Dialogue of Dissent

Ever have those days when life gets in the way of studying? This has been my experience the last couple of days, but I should have expected this in the midst of the holidays. So I feel like I have slowed up a bit, but hopefully after this last festival (New Year’s Eve), I can get back to the routine.
I have recently finished Michele Dillon’s work, Catholic Identity: Balancing Reason, Faith, and Power. Dillon is looking at “pro-change” groups in the American Catholic context, and they ways in which they stay connected with, interact with, and try to differentiate from the greater Catholic tradition. All of the groups are more progressive, groups (gay rights, women’s ordination, and reproductive choice). What Dillon concludes is that it is not reason which allows small groups to stay connected and to continue to push for change (contra Habermas). Nor are groups relegated to silence, or risk being undermined in attempting to forge new ideas and practices while staying connected to a larger institutional tradition (contra Foucault). Dillon concludes that faith and power along with reason fuel, drive, and keep the efforts of these groups alive.
I found the work to be well research and done, but with a noticeable progressive bias. Dillon makes it seem like there are not any pro-change conservative groups. It is as if the Catholic tradition is so monolithic in its conservative leanings, that never would a less progressive individual want to push for change. Granted, the issues that Dillon is considering have been controlled by the conservatives, yet one could not argue that they are completely satisfied with change. Since Vatican II, many conservative thinking individuals have been pushing for a change in doctrine, liturgy, and hierarchy. Perhaps the most recent Pope, and his predecessor have pushed for much of that change, yet not all are satisfied.
A strength of Dillon’s work is that one could apply similar questions and conclusions to pro-change conservative groups (to a degree).
Now for a Baptist reflection. There are many point that have caused me to wonder. Dillon looks at the use of doctrine to counter doctrine among groups. I suppose Baptists do that with scripture, and to a lesser degree with our distinctives. The problem with using scripture is the variety of hermeneutics. Unless all are reading scripture in the same way, one cannot compare different passages, readings, or ideas. A literalist may quote a scripture, while a non-literalist would speak of the overall ethos and focus of the gospel. This is comparing apples to oranges.
The problem with the dinstictives is that they do not hold an authoritative place in the Baptist movement. They are guiding, and telling. They tell who we have been and where we have come from, and they can guide where we are going. Yet one does not often hold up church autonomy with the same doctrinal weight as a Catholic might. Clearly we need to continue the conversation among Baptist concern who we are and how we can understand and identify ourselves.
Finally, I hold up the idea of dissent. The dissenters in Dillon’s book (the pro-change group) are not willing to leave the church. They love Catholicism enough to put themselves through the strain and the challenges to try to change the institution. As Baptists we claim to tolerate dissent (I use the word “tolerate” deliberately). Ideas will prevail, but we will always tolerate the dissenting voice. I criticize those who claim to be Baptist, but will not continue in the dialogue of dissent. I question if they truly love the history and the ideals found within the Baptist movement. I also criticize the denomination that does not create a true platform where a dialogue of dissent can occur. Unity is important, but not at the expense of the whole body. Dissent is also important, but not at the expense of the whole body. We must find a way to give those who dissent full voice and a place at the table. We must continue to stay committed to the movement and the church enough to stay in dialogue with our dissent. So many of us have failed in so many ways.

the grammer of Baptists

I have just finished reviewing Lindbeck’s The Nature of Doctrine. It is a book that has become a classic of sorts for many theologians in the last decade. I planned on using it as a secondary or supplemental source, but things have changed. I have heard from one of my professors that my understanding of Wittgenstein is not up to par. He suggested that I look more at Lindbeck than at Wittgenstein – Witt is a dangerous person to us, because it is very easy to get him wrong. This was disappointing news, but I think my professor is right. Now, what I need to focus on is getting this !#*(& degree. So I can forgo Witt for now. I do not plan on forgetting about him, because I did think that Witt offers a powerful method to do theology that would have great implications for the Baptists.
But for now I turn to Lindbeck, who offers much to work with. Lindbeck is looking at doctrines within particular communities, and they ways in which those doctrines emerge. One of his concerns is towards the ecumenical movement, (which is not a concern of mine right now), but his theories are brilliant. Lindbeck looks to Geertz’s understanding of a “thick description” as a way to discern the doctrines and the theological grammar of a particular community. This is exactly what the Baptists need to do; we need to look closely at ourselves currently and historically to discern our doctrines and our theological grammar. It seems bold to claim that the Baptists actually hold doctrines, and it is something that needs to be considered. This is where I struggle; do Baptists actually hold to doctrines? I would venture to say “yes,” and even suggest that they come out of our baptism. A believer’s baptism suggest that the individual has the soul competency to make his or her own decision – freedom. It means that the churches must be free to allow the individual to discern his or her own call from God – Church autonomy. It means that the minister (priest) cannot tell the individual if he or she is or is not saved – priesthood of the believers. Yet there is a flaw in believer’s baptism if one ascribes to the doctrine of original, or at least there is a weakness. How soon until you gently persuade the individual to be baptized? Now we run the risk of sacramentiality. Lindbeck’s rule-theory et al offers much to consider for the Baptists. I will let Wittgenstein rest for a while, and follow the path Lindbeck sets before me (understanding full well that Wittgenstein influences Lindbeck).

the theology of religious freedom

Is religious freedom a theological construct? Or is religious freedom merely a political necessity to keep different religions from killing each other. After reading John Noonan’s book, The Lustre of Our Country, I find myself asking this question. First, let me say that Noonan’s book of superb. He looks at religious freedom in the American context from a number of different perspectives and in a number of different ways. He offers a fun diversity in styles that pulls out different nuances of the question. Great book, I highly recommend it!
Noonan argues that religious freedom is a theological construct. First, in arguing against Durkheim, Noonan claims, “You shall substitute neither State nor society for God nor suppose that religion may be analytically reduced to the self-worship of society.” Noonan is arguing that religion is more than a “unified system of beliefs and practices relating t sacred things,…set apart and forbidden, beliefs and practices which unite into a single moral community…” (Durkheim). Noonan argues against Bellah’s concept of a civil religion. And while he does not criticize it overtly, Noonan does not seem to fall within the understanding of Geertz’s “system of symbols.” Instead, Noonan claims that religion is a relationship to God, that there is a necessary personal aspect to religion that transcends the corporate understanding of civil religion. Not because an individual cannot love his or her country, but because a country cannot love back. While he does not cite the work, Noonan seems to be taking up an argument that Milbank is making in Theology and Social Theory, that theology cannot be explained through observation and social analysis. Noonan refuses to let religion be explained as a phenomenon of society; God exists, and humanity is striving to connect with God.
It is here that the conscious comes into play. To allow the individual to fully and freely connect with God, he or she must have complete freedom of that consciousness. This is the $20 word of the work – consciousness (or at least the word that Madison loves). Noonan states, “You shall acknowledge that religion itself requires religious freedom. Heart speaks to heart, spirit answers Spirit, freely.” On cannot help but notice the Rahnerian influence of transcendence and individuality. The individual will be drawn to the divine, and hopefully the Christian understanding of the divine. We must stay out of the way.
Yet can we say with all authenticity that the political construct, the 16 words in the First Amendment, are indeed theological? If the Catholics were in control, wouldn’t they want to make sure that people are free to choose God, but the God as they understand it? Even if it was without overt coercion, wouldn’t a Catholic state really want to increase its numbers in the pew? This was the idea that John Courtney Murray was arguing against as Noonan nicely illustrates. Or let’s be honest with the Baptists. While some Baptists, like Leland, wanted strict separation for theological and typological reasons (the state was never to be understood as the realm of God… back to Milbank), others like Backuus (whom Noonan lifts up) would like a looser separation, with ultimately a Baptist influenced and run state. For Backuus, the separation was a necessity, but not a theological necessity.
If it is theological, then how do we understand freedom in contrast with evangelism? Evangelism, by nature, is meant to coercive and persuade. If you think you have found the best thing, do you really think it is best to sit back and hope others are attracted to your movement? Or, to consider the abolitionist movement, if you see the State moving in a direction that is country to every moral fiber in your faith informed understanding, shouldn’t you try to change the direction of the state, and those religious movement which support it (Noonan considers these questions with slavery, polygamy, and temperance)?
This is an issue that Baptists are struggling with in a very real way right now. Freedom, to what extent? Even in the individual churches, freedom to what extent? Can we take a chance and allow churches to move in the way they see as best, even if it is against what we hold dear? Now we are entering into the realm of ecclesiology.
With the experiment of religious freedom, it seems that one could consider it in at least two ways. (1) From a non-theological point of view, the separation is a political necessity to avoid bloodshed among the various groups. Yet it is appropriate for religious movement to have influence over the political machine, policies, and direction. As long as other movements are tolerated, then it would be appropriate for one to have more power than others. Case in point – the recent political aspirations of the Religious Right. (2) We need to trust that God will lead us as a people working through the variety of religious groups. We need to influence the government, but understand when we unduly influence the faith and practice of another group we have gone to far. We are to be persuasive with each other, to try to influence each other, but never enforce one view over the other; the Holy Spirit will lead us to truth.
In a pluralistic society, the second option has a number of problems theologically, unless you understand the state as sanctioned by God, and guided by God.
I now understand why Noonan wrote his work, and why it was not a brief work – this is a question/issue that is complex. To solve it, or even understand it briefly would be an amazing (impossible) feat!

a feminist offering

Just finished reading She Who Is, by Elizabeth Johnson, and I would describe it as an excellent work of theology that happens to have a feminist focus. It is a work that does not overly push a feminist agenda to a degree that loses its academic credibility. I would highly recommend the last couple of chapters for those who are wrestling with the idea of the nature of God in the trinity, and in the unity. Johnson does some excellent work with language in trying to find a name for God that would include the woman’s experience. Overall, it is an excellent work.
Here’s where I am in my thoughts. Johnson claims that her theology begins at the experience of the woman. I understand how theology can emerge from such an experience, yet how can I enter into this particular level of theological discourse? Can I rest on a Kantian epistemology and just conceive the possibility of the experience? Would such an attempt be seen and accepted as valid? Most likely not. I recognize how Johnson is trying to hold up the diversity of all humans, yet the name Johnson suggests for God, “She Who Is,” is a name that is truly coming out a woman’s experience. I understand how this name for God can resonate with women, and may even move towards freeing their theology. Yet, is it a name that I could also use? Probably if it is not the only name of God that I employ. If I use a variety of names to describe God, then I am not longer confining God to one specific attribute or theological method of thought. Thus, I could claim that God is the holy creator, She Who Is, the one who calls us into Being, the Spirit-Sophia, and on and on. Even then, I imagine I would still circle around the names that I am most comfortable with.
Perhaps that is the challenge, to always be critically considering the names one has for God, and questioning is those names are still appropriate. Or, more broadly, to always be questioning and developing one’s theology, looking for the holes, and the constrictions one has placed upon God. Maybe then theology moves from and academic endeavor to a spiritual endeavor.

Two sources for one!

How can we use our sources of scripture and tradition? As I reread Jamie Phelps article “Communion Ecclesiology and Black Liberation Theology” (found in Theological Studies, December 200, vol. 61 no. 4, pg. 672-699), this question came to mind. The focus of Phelps’ article on the broader spectrum to include the Catholics in the Black theology movement, and more specifically, to consider the Catholic understanding of Communion Ecclesiology as a way to inform and liberate the blacks in America (specifically Black Catholics). Phelps offers a good survey of Black theology from the Protestant camp, and begins to offer some challenging theological ideas for Black liberation, yet nothing that is earth-shattering or grossly profound. Yet what Phelps does do is demonstrate a turning to the sources of tradition and scripture. For example, Phelps surveys some encyclicals offered through Catholic tradition that compels Catholics to work for a society of justice, mercy, and equality (Populorum progression, Octogesimo advenies, and Rerum novarum for example). She doesn’t emphasis scripture as much, but does reference Cone’s Thurman’s and King’s understanding of the compelling message of Christ resurrection as found in scripture. The majority of Phelp’s article is based on Catholic tradition.
It is no surprise to me that the bulk of Phelps’ article reaches to tradition – she is Catholic, after all. If we were to read a Protestant theologian’s account it would most likely be rooted in scripture. What I am wondering is if there is a way to use both? In the Baptist movement, we have no problem looking at the scriptural basis. Yet what would we find from our tradition? The ABC/USA has a number of statements of concern, resolutions, and other “official” statements which hold very little power or punch. Can we use the examples of individuals as sources of our tradition? Can we use the statements of one or two theologians? Perhaps this is an example of a moment when our diversity (especially the diversity of the ABC/USA) can be a true strength. As a white Baptist, I have little history to look to and swell with pride – I have plenty to be ashamed. Yet can I be so bold as to turn to the heritage of my Black Baptist brothers and sisters, and clam that history as an informing history. It is a risky endeavor, but one that needs to be considered.

just an "ok" history

What makes a history book good, and what makes it excellent? This is something I was thinking about as I read The History of Black Catholics in the United States by Cyprian Davis. It is a good history that tells a through and detailed story of the history of black Catholics, but it is not excellent. The majority of Davis’ attention is spent on the role and actions of leadership with the back Catholics and the leadership in the Catholic church. It seemed that Davis we more concerned with the acceptance, or lack of, the evangelization, or lack of, and the integration, or lack of, of black Catholics with the larger Catholic movement in America. What I found missing was a story of the Catholics who joined and stayed with the Catholics. How did it feel to be isolated from White America due to race, and isolated from Black America due to religion? Did Black Catholics face the same kind of persecution and suspicion that white Catholics faced from Protestants? These are questions that Davis neglected to answer. It is good to tell the story of Black Catholics, but the surface has only been scratched by Davis. We have a good history book, why not an excellent one?