Monthly Archives: September 2010

Karl Barth Blog Conference in Full Swing

For those of you who may not have noticed yet, the main theoblogging event of the year is well underway at Der Evangelische Theologe. A notable recent entry is yesterday’s post on Barth and Bonhoeffer. Also recently posted are entries placing Barth in conversation with Schleiermacher, Bavinck, and Tillich. So far all the posts and comments have been really top notch. Definitely worthy of your attention.

Is there a postliberal theological project?

I was having a conversation the other night with a couple friends about the respective theological perspectives of Hans Frei and George Lindbeck regarding to what degree we can really classify them together as constitute a common school of thought (i.e. the “Yale School”). This conversation led me to think further regarding the whole notion of “postliberalism” which folks from Lindbeck to Hauerwas have claimed as a descriptor of their theological orientation.

What I’m fundamentally wondering about is whether or not there really is/was a coherent theological movement or sensibility that we can truly classify as “postliberalism.” If so, what is it? If there is such a thing as postliberalism what is its ultimate aim? What, if anything is the “postliberal project” if there is one? I find myself without a ready answer. It is by no means clear to me how or if Lindbeck, Hauerwas, and Frei (to simply name three commonly-mentioned examples who are often associated with the moniker) were working on a unified theological project of some sort. Thoughts?

9/11 and fear

Gil Anidjar has an excellent article up at the ABC Religion and Ethics page, which speaks well to the culture of fear that continues to be inculcated in America after 9/11. Well worth a read. Here’s a segment:

One thing the prophets, poets, and philosophers of old did not endlessly rehearse is, “Be afraid, be very afraid! There is danger everywhere. Remember what was done to you and how it has hurt and, above all, frightened you. Build onto yourself higher walls, therefore, make bigger bombs and better security gates, for your own exclusive care and protection. And make sure those immigration laws are tighter than what is inflicted on them bankers!”

It should be obvious that, though we can all-too easily be persuaded otherwise, we are not all vulnerable in the same manner. We are not exposed to the same risks and we do not all have the same life expectancy.

Those among us who are more privileged, more protected, as it were, may or may not have a choice in the emotional response we experience with regard to the state of the world. But it does seem like we might have some choice in what we embrace and condone by way of our collective behaviour, our politics.

On the anniversary of 9/11, therefore, I remember the schoolchildren who, over the course of the Cold War, were taught fear on their flesh by crouching under their desks. And I remember the role played by shoes today in the pedagogy of fear.

That is why I want to believe that the American president might address the nation and the “international community” with the following words:

“My fellow Americans, and fellow Westerners, do not be afraid. Verily, I say unto you: Do not fear the shoes of our neighbours. Do not fear them at airports first. Perhaps, you will learn not to fear them at the entrances of mosques. For the love of God, or that of the poor (the downtrodden), the widow (the refugee), and the orphan (the immigrant).”

Louie and Jesus

A brief plug: the best combination of hilarity and profundity on TV right now for my money is Louie (the brainchild of the star, comedian Louis C.K.). The most recent episode, “God” deals in a shockingly profound way with theological issues related to growing up with Catholic guilt, and the all-too-common (across confessional lines) abusive fixation on the suffering of Jesus.

Very much worth a viewing. Intended for mature audiences, etc.

The evangelical-vampiric construction of femininity

Among the new articles just published at TOJ, one of the most helpful is K.J. Swanson’s critique of the various evangelical Christian responses to the Twilight series. Given all the evangelical (and Catholic, lets be equal opportunity offenders here) uproar over the Harry Potter series it is pretty amazing that most Christian responses to the Twilight series has been at at most neutral and often glowingly enthusiastic.

As you might expect this divergence has everything to do with sex, particularly Twilight’s portrayal of female sexuality. Says Swanson:

Beth Felker Jones explains in Touched by a Vampire, “the themes of Twilight are all about what it means to be female.” This question of what it means to be female is one evangelicals have been trying to help girls answer for years. Whether it’s the formidable Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood or the franchised Every Man series, the evangelical media has produced an entire industry of relationship advice books that are not primarily about managing one’s love life, but are, rather, instructional guides to help readers personify “authentic” masculinity and femininity. And with the publication of books about Twilight written by evangelical Christian authors for adolescent girls, the evangelical conversation about Twilight has actually merged with the genre of evangelical relationship texts for young women. The manner in which such books respond to the cultural impact of Twilight follows the evangelical trajectory of placing gender at the heart of Christian faith, normalizing and spiritualizing patriarchal interpretations of femininity.

Be sure to check out the whole article and the two forthcoming installments which will complete the series. One final parting shot from Swanson’s apropos critique:

It is ultimately fitting that Twilight should be so often called a “guilty pleasure,” for at the very core of its narrative, we find guilt being linked to pleasure; a teenage girl wooed into physical intimacy but denied that intimacy the very moment she acts on her feelings. The mixed message of Edward’s pattern of seductive arousal, followed by shaming rejection, puts Bella in the position of needing to break Edward’s rules in order to honestly express what she feels. Bella is called a “bad girl” not because she is kissed, but because she kisses back. Kurt Bruner worries that Twilight will teach young readers that “even good girls are eager to have sex before marriage,” but he has no words of critique for Edward’s erotic pursuit of Bella. The cost of evangelical praise for Twilight is a deepening of the split between sexuality and spirituality wherein young girls have no recourse but to remain frozen like an obedient Bella would or become “bad” by reciprocating as Bella actually does. Either choice allows shame to reign where dignity should abide.

New Issue of TOJ Out

The Other Journal has just launched their latest issue, this one focusing on the matter of “celebrity.” There are a number of new articles. Definitely worth checking out.

Blogging and patience

Earlier this summer at the Annual Gathering of the Ekklesia Project, and in subsequent conversations I’ve had about the nature of theological blogging the question of patience has been raised a few times. Normally the objection/question is couched in terms of the proposition that blogging, by virtue of its relatively immediate, easy-access nature is fundamentally antithetical to patient and reflective theological discourse.

I’ve thought a bit about this question and I think that, fundamentally, this concern is ill-founded. More precisely it is ill-founded in that the way in which the question is formed tends to reflect too hasty a view of the sort of discourse that actually happens on blogs. Clearly if one were to just look at a given thread of comments one could make the case that there is regularly a lot of speaking too soon, emoting, and irresponsible speech — much like there is in countless normal face-to-face conversations. So if we were to judge blogging simply by this I suppose we could say that it does not foster patience.

But this would be just as short-sighted as deciding that personal conversation is too heated, immediate, and emotional to be a viable mode of communication on the basis overhearing one argument. Blogging, like any other mode of conversation must not be evaluated merely on a micro scale, but rather from the standpoint of an extended series of discourses that unfold over time as various people have conversation after conversation with one another.

Certainly blogging does not “foster patience” in the sense that participating in once comment thread will inculcate patience into its participants — any more than one argument between friends will immediately teach them how to communicate better to one another. Rather it is precisely by bearing with the impatience over numerous discussions that patience is fostered and mutual understanding is cultivated. Again, this is strikingly similar to how patience is learned in most other modes of interpersonal discussion. Couples learn to be patient with each other, not through one or two arguments, but over a long shared history of  being impatient with each other.

To my mind the reaction to blogging that fears it to be incapable of patience reflects a misunderstanding of this fundamental point. Blogging is, in fact, a great way to learn about patience in that, if you wish to be in it in a sustained way, you must work, over the long haul through misunderstandings, disagreements, and flare-ups of inappropriateness. You learn patience by bearing with the impatience, remaining in dialogue and continuing to write, comment, and converse. Precisely as such blogging, far from being antithetical to patience is actually a superb venue for cultivating it.

UPDATE: Brad East’s latest post, Personal Reflections on Two Years of Blogging seems to me to make a similar, and supporting point to what I have tried to say in this post.

Bonhoeffer and the body of Christ

Too often we tend to talk about the church as the body of Christ in a way that occludes the distinctly Christological and soteriological importance of this biblical image. The way the image tends to function in much theological discourse is to append Christ to the church in such a way as to bolster the church’s own institutional self-confidence and certainty. It simply functions to assure us that the church is in continuity with Christ and is therefore in the right.

But as Bonhoeffer points out beautifully in Ethics, the body of Christ language in Scripture serves first and foremost to point us to Christ and his act for the salvation of all humanity in the cross and resurrection:

Above all we must turn our eyes to the image of Jesus Christ’s own body — the one who became human, was crucified, and is risen. In the body of Jesus Christ, God is united with humankind, all humanity is accepted by God, and the world is reconciled to God. In the body of Jesus Christ, God took on the sin of all the world and bore it. There is no part of the world, no matter how lost, no matter how godless, that has not been accepted by God in Jesus Christ and reconciled to God. Whoever perceives the body of Jesus Christ in faith can no longer speak of the world as if it were lost, as if it were separated from God; they can no longer separate themselves in clerical pride from the world. The world belongs to Christ, and only in Christ is the world what it is. It needs, therefore, nothing less than Christ himself. Everything would be spoiled if we were to reserve Christ for the church while granting the world only some law, Christian though it may be. Christ died for the world, and Christ is Christ only in the midst of the world. It is nothing but unbelief to give the world — for well intentioned pedagogical reasons to be sure, which nonetheless leave an aftertaste of clericalism — less than Christ. It means not taking seriously the incarnation, the crucifixion, and the bodily resurrection. It means denying the body of Christ. (pp. 66-67)

Bonhoeffer goes show how understanding the church as the body of Christ means not that “the church-community is first and foremost set apart from the world. On the contrary, in line with the New Testament statements about God becoming flesh in Christ, it expresses just this — that in the body of Christ all humanity is accepted, included, and borne, and the the church-community of believers is to make this know to the world by word and life” (p. 67).

Thus the church is understood as the body of Christ first and foremost in terms of soteriology and Christology. In Christ’s incarnation, death, and resurrection God has taken on the flesh of all humanity (or rather all people participate in Christ’s own distinct humanity) and the church is the proleptic sign and sacrament of this reality. Thus, the church as the body of Christ is neither a metaphor or something to be explained in mystical terms. Rather it is a Christological reality. The church is the body of Christ in that it is the sign and sacrament of the event of Christ in which all human flesh, indeed the whole world is united and transfigured in the love of the triune God.

Kingdom-World-Church and Liberation Theology

Among the many discussions that ensued after Nate, Ry, and I posted Kingdom-World-Church, one of the more interesting ones (to me) involved the precise nature of the relation between our theses and Liberation Theology. That there was some important connection was clear from the theses themselves, both in the citations and content, especially regarding the church as the church of/for/with the poor. But questions were raised regarding whether or not the affinity between the project the three of us are undertaking is engaged with Liberation Theology in more than a merely apparent manner.

A thorough exploration of the connection between this project in Liberation Theology will certainly be made clear in the course of the future developed work, but for now, it may be helpful for us to take note of this passage from the first pages of Leonardo Boff’s Church: Charism and Power, which, please note, none of the three of us had encountered prior to our writing of the theses:

Kingdom-World-Church [this is the actual subtitle!]

In order to go beyond mere phenomenological analysis, we must identify the theological poles that enter into our understanding of what it is to be Church. The Church cannot be understood in and of itself because it is affected by those realities that transcend it, namely the Kingdom and the world. World and Kingdom are the two pillars that support the entire edifice of the Church. The reality of the Kingdom is that which defines both the world and the Church. Kingdom–the category used by Jesus to express his own unique intention (ipsissima intentio)–is the utopia that is realized in the world, the final good of the whole of creation in God, completely liberated from all imperfection and penetrated by the Divine. The Kingdom carries salvation to its completion. The world is the arena for the historical realization of the Kingdom. Presently the world is decadent and stained by sin; because of this, the Kingdom of God is raised up against the powers of the anti-Kingdom, engaged in the onerous process of liberation so that the world might accept the Kingdom itself and thus achieve its joyous goal.

The Church is that part of the world that, in the strength of the Spirit, has accepted the Kingdom made explicit in the person of Jesus Christ, the Son of God incarnated in oppression. It preserves the constant memory and consciousness of the Kingdom, celebrating its presence in the world, shaping the way it is proclaimed, and at the service of the world. The Church is not the Kingdom but rather its sign (explicit symbol) and its instrument (mediation) in the world.

These three elements–Kingdom, world, and Church–must be spelled out in their proper order. First is the Kingdom as the primary reality that gives rise to the others. Second is the world as the place where the Kingdom is concretized and the Church is realized. Finally, the Church is the anticipatory and sacramental realization of the Kingdom in the world, as well as the means whereby the Kingdom is anticipated most concretely in the world.

There is a danger of too close an approximation, or even identification, of the Church and the Kingdom that creates an abstract and idealistic image of the Church that is spiritualized and wholly indifferent to the traumas of history. On the other hand, an identification of the Church and the world leads to an ecclesial image that is secular and mundane, one in which the Church’s power is in conflict with the other powers of the world. And there is the danger of a Church centered in on itself, out of touch both with the Kingdom and the world, such that it becomes a self-sufficient, triumphal, and perfect society, many times duplicating the services normally found in civil society, failing to recognize the relative autonomy of the secular realm.

These dangers are theological ‘pathologies’ that cry out for treatment; ecclesiological health depends on the right relationship between Kingdom-world-Church, in such a way that the Church is always seen as a concrete and historical sign (of the Kingdom and of salvation) and as its instrument (mediation) in salvific service to the world.” (pp. 1-2).

Now, I should say that we would probably need to qualify what we mean when we speak of the church as the “mediation” of the kingdom in the world, but the affinity between Boff’s account here and the account we have gestured towards in the theses should be more than apparent in this quote. The point, if it needs to be said, is that for us, a sustained re-engagement with Liberation Theology is much, much more than merely a surface-level, or apparent concern. Indeed, one of the key concerns we have about about the state of much of contemporary ecclesio-concentric theology is the way in which it relies on a sort of back-door rejection of the specific concerns and critiques of Liberation Theology in favor of exalting ecclesial and sacramental practices cast in theopolitical verbiage (e.g. Bell’s Liberation Theology After the End of History and Cavanaugh’s Torture and Eucharist).

Milbank, Islam, and Mission

My long silence around here must now come to an end. As folks get back to school and other such pursuits, I will do my part to send some distractions peoples’ way via the blog.

For now, folks would do well to check out a recent post by Tim McGee about John Milbank’s inherently imperialistic theology and its detrimental relation to Christian mission and Christian approaches to Isalm (I would also suggest browsing through the old posts at Rwanda and Theology — there’s a lot of good stuff there). McGee rightly points out that, for all Milbank’s talk of an ontology of peaceable difference, for him “the form of harmonic difference is simply a nondifferential difference, an irrelevant difference, for they will basically become like us (and thus the binary still reigns supreme).”

McGee concludes, rightly, that for Milbank:

For the sake of a better Islam, Islam must be subjugated to Euro-Catholic cultural forms.  Since there are some small strands of this culture within Islam, Euro-Catholic Christians can and ought to form them in this way.  Since they are small and minor traditions, such a transformation can only be secured by Euro-Catholic rule.  Finally, since the differences between Islam and Christianity are irreducible, such Euro-Catholic rule must be perpetual:  Muslims must be continually coerced into striving to become what will forever escape them, that is, a proper (Western, Christian) human community.  That is missions-qua-Milbank, which is utterly incompatible with missions-qua-scripture (Acts).

Switch to our mobile site