The very best in collaborative theology blogging these days is going on at Women in Theology (WIT), who have been on a roll of fantastic posts lately. Also be sure to check out Memoria Dei for other top quality stuff from a great group of bloggers.
Also, people should keep their eye on the most recent solo blog to be added, that of Michael Gibson of IVP. There looks to be more good stuff coming our way from him as well.
I’m a staunch defender of blogging as a mode of theological discourse. However, to deny that there are some pathologies that its easy for us bloggers to fall into would be a tad irresponsible. To that end, I give you the first of hopefully several unveilings of theoblogging “strategies” that we sometimes fall prey to in an effort to win favor for our supercool ideas and projects.
One great one is to say, sort of as an aside in the course of talking about something, “I’m tempted to take a swipe at ______, but I will refrain.” This is one of those great ways to sneak in a backhanded “Oh snap!” moment in your campaign to express your theological cleverness. Not only do you get to take your jab, you get to valorize your magnanimous restraint at the same time! Too often we never stop to wonder, is saying that you are tempted to take a cheap shot at a theological idea and then stating that you are resisting said temptation, simply a convenient way of taking said cheap shot? Might this not be a way of avoiding speaking critically in a way that would involve the kind of in-depth theological discussion that might betray one’s own ignorance and misunderstanding of that very idea?
I’m afraid this is often the case. But this tactic definitely helps up one’s theoblogging coolness quotient and allows you to rest assured that all the people who already agreed with your perspective on the issue in question got a good chuckle out of your witticism.
While I’m a little bit late to the party, I want to make sure to direct folks to the excellent new blog, Women in Theology (WIT). Boasting nine different authors writing from various academic and disciplinary theological contexts, this blog helps to fill a still-wide lacuna in the theological blogosphere. There are plenty of fascinating posts from the last couple months that merit attention, but please take special note of the most recent posts which properly point out some of the mind-numbing madness involved in Milbank’s latest post on sex. Thank you!
I look forward to more great posts from this important blog. Keep up the good work!
I’ve recently published an interview with Nate Kerr over at TOJ that delves into some of the issues that have surfaced in recent discussions about Christology, ecclesiology, and mission. Check it out.
Here’s one segment:
My contention is that the focus upon the singularity of Jesus Christ forces us to rethink what we mean by the task of theology as being both dogmatic and missionary in today’s context. By dogmatic I mean to say that Christian theology is to be given to the confession of the praise of the doxa, the glory of the Lord, that shows forth in the apocalyptic singularity of Jesus Christ. And that glory is that Jesus, as the eternally sent One, has liberated the world from its oppressed laboring under the powers and principalities and, by way of this liberation, has reconciled the world to Godself. That is the gospel; that is the good news. By missionary I mean to stress that theology can only be faithfully dogmatic insofar as it is forged in the ongoing encounter and solidarity with the world’s hearing of and response to this singular gospel.
This, it seems to me, means two things primarily for how theology is to be rethought and practiced today. First, it means to insist upon the apocalypse of Jesus Christ as the singular dandum from which all theological thought must emerge. Bruce McCormack’s reading of Barth has been most important for keeping me focused upon this point. Theology determined by the singular revelation that is Jesus Christ cannot at any point or in any degree make recourse to an assumed cultural or revelational datum (a “given”) but must think in the train of that One who gives himself “anew in each new moment” as a singular dandum (“to be given”). Second, we must not forget that the singular identity of Jesus Christ as the resurrected crucified one is the identity of that one who was not afraid to lose himself in abandonment to and in identity with the marginalized and oppressed of this world. Insofar as such oppression is the work of idolatrous powers, such identification and solidarity with the oppressed is the very condition of the interruption and overcoming of these powers by the doxa, the glory of God. And so insofar as Jesus is the singular dandum of theology who gives himself to be given, we must insist that we only ever encounter Jesus, as Kierkegaard would say, in the forgetfulness of himself in the suffering world, in the giving of himself incognito in the poor and suffering neighbor. Mission, as such, thus becomes that movement of self-giving whereby we are given ever-anew to receive that one Christ who gives himself precisely by giving himself ever-anew in what Bonhoeffer calls the “strangeness” of the other. But this means that mission is itself a certain kind of preferential option for the poor. For it is precisely as this singular Jesus turns to give himself to and identify with the dying and soon-to-be-dead poor of this world (and we find this movement all throughout the Gospel of Mark, for example) that Jesus makes his way to the cross. And it is as he moves to the cross with, for, and as these poor that Jesus is given to receive the genuinely new and irruptive doxa of God’s coming reign—resurrection. In turn, it is precisely as our thoughts and words give us to live and speak in solidarity with the dying and soon-to-be-dead poor of this world, to eat and drink with them, that we theologians are given with, for, and as these poor to receive, and to bespeak, the genuinely new and irruptive doxa of God’s coming reign.
If you want to read something incredibly stupid, make sure to check out Mark Tooley’s dreck, “Mennonite Takeover.” This lovely piece of “writing” wonders if the malignant Neo-Anabaptists of today will someday repent of all the mean things they say about “traditional American Christianity,” you know, since mainline Christians have apologized profusely for killing all those Anabaptists back in the day it seems only fair. . .
On the other hand if you want to read something incredibly good, check out the second part of K.J. Swanson’s three-part article critiquing the politics of gender in evangelicalism and the Twilight series.
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.
Dave Horstkoetter has a send-up of blowhard and all around terrible human being, Glenn Beck, and his comments about James Cone and black liberation theology at The Other Journal. Check it out.
Ok, I’m back. After a week in Chicago for EP and then another week vacationing in California with the always-dangerous Andrew Kooy, I am back. Stay tuned to the Valdenkor blog for some forthcoming recountings of the culinary chronicles of Andrew and myself from the past week.
In the meantime, here is a segment from the conclusion to the presentation I gave with Jana Bennett at EP on “blogging as theological discourse”:
So, in conclusion if I were to venture some guesses about how we might best go about this open-ended and uncertain work of “seeing how this will work”, I would offer four guidelines, which I offer no less to myself than to others:
- Blogging as a mode of faithful discourse must be open to critique, re-formation, and revision in light of the voices of others. Blogging, by its very nature is open and participatory towards a variety of discursive voices. Moreover, blogging tends to generate a variety of discussions outside of the medium of blogs themselves.
- Blogging generates a multi-level discussion. It is precisely in attending to these discussions with care for the voice of the other and allowing them to shape future discussions and explorations of the themes discussed that we blog faithfully. In short, blogging must be shaped by the conversation it generates if it is to be truly fruitful.
- Blogging as a mode of faithful discourse must embrace its open-ended and fundamentally itinerant nature. Blogging, if it attempts to accomplish the work of books and journal articles, will simply be a poor exercise. Blogging’s piecemeal, fragmentary, and dynamic nature must be embraced, and precisely so, be discovered as a mode of open and unpredictable discourse. It is a dialogical space for pilgrims, wayfarers, and strangers who are enabled in this space to discover unexpected conversations about the call of God on our lives. In this sort of itinerant space we have the opportunity to allow ourselves to be known, in all our facileness, haste, and vulnerability, and to simply be conversationally present without pretension to over-importance, establishment, or self-validation. This, at least, is what I believe theological blogging must aspire to be.
- Blogging as a mode of faithful discourse ought always to be shaped and birthed from a life of lived prayer in the context of the church in its mission to the world. Blogging, at its best should arise from reflection on the concrete life of the church for and in the world, and, precisely as such, it must be grounded in prayer, that is, in the cry for the kingdom which gives the church its shape, life, and calling. To seek any form of faithful theological discussion outside of a common life of prayer for the coming of the Triune God to transfigure, renew, and interrupt us, is to engage in false and futile pursuits. This is not a pious gloss. Prayer is essential for good conversation about God. This applies to blogging no less than to any other mode of theological conversation. Perhaps more so.Blogging as a mode of faithful discourse must, by the Spirit, learn proper patience in the midst of the immediacy of response that blogging tends to generate. Haste is perhaps the greatest temptation of blogging. Only by being given over to patience, the fruit of the Spirit which takes shape in our life together under Christ’s lordship, can we pursue this sort of discussion in a truly fruitful manner.
The discussion in the workshop was, I think, quite good, especially in that it allowed a number of folks who have been involved in the online discussions on this blog to engage in face-to-face conversation about the whole dynamic of theological discussion in the medium of blogs.
Well, I’m taking off this morning for Chicago to attend this year’s gathering of the Ekklesia Project, where I’ll actually be presenting at a workshop on . . . you guessed it: theology and blogging. I hope to see many of you guys in Chicago, and if I have internet access, maybe I’ll even do a little live blogging play-by-play for you for the plenary papers. Maybe . . .
Sorry for the sparsest April I’ve ever given you folks. I do intend to rectify the situation soon, rest assured. My time has been spent of late with family, hectic work, and as much rest and exercise as I can squeeze into the mix. But I promise you are not forgotten. For the moment I’ll leave you with the words of Craig Keen, which, of late, have been ruling, shaping, and transforming whatever theological thoughts come through my head:
Agape–and here I must ask one to listen hard to what must remain counterintuitive–agape opens wounds, it doesn’t heal them. It opens the walls of communities, it doesn’t guard them. It tells a story that even the most far-reaching and flexible narrative cannot get its arms around. It lives not for us, but for them. It is not a perfection that is hard to come by. It is a gift, even if a rare gift. It is not taught by hard times, but in spite of hard times; just as it is taught in spite of good times. It is an openness that prevails even when one can no longer cope with the chaos of another day, cannot say how the events of one’s life are steps on a journey. Agape is perfection, holiness, because it is a kind of ek-stasis that unravels every communitarian fabric, every story, every virtue, every habit.
Does this mean that “community” is to be jettisoned in some lonely return to individualistic pietism? Is there no story of the holy life? Does virtue, does habit, have no complicity with perfection? No. Not this. There are indeed a community and a story and a habituation that are hallowed. However, this community is ecclesial, gathered–and gathered by what can never be lodged in that community–gathered by what will only disruptively dwell there. And so, the story of the community, however wordy it gets, however effectively it appropriates the events that befall it, must always come to silence–before an ex-propriating mystery that cannot be said. So, too, one’s habits, as helpful as they are as a kind of collection of our worldly goods, are to be offered–in the freedom of the gift, the gift that is the Holy Spirit.
~ Craig Keen, “The Human Person as Intercessory Prayer,” 6-7. In Embodied Holiness.
Sorry about the dearth of posts lately. Real life is real life.
In the meantime here’s a lively interview with John Milbank at The Immanent Frame. Definitely worth a read.
Thanks to all who commented this week on the stream of posts about the body of Christ. I’m certainly not done with this topic, though after this week there will be posts on other topics as well. Also this coming week I plan to extend this conversation in dialouge with John Zizioulas’s work, which I have found very helpful this week, as well as in more biblical study of the Pauline texts themselves, especially in regard to the political nature of the body imagery. In the meantime, thanks to all for the discussion. I found it immensely helpful, I hope you did too.
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