the mess we call Baptists

It is no secret that the Baptist (specifically the American Baptists) are organizationally a mess. It is no secret that without a central power, an administrative hierarchy with power and authority over the local churches one will find chaos. This is not a secret because of the recent hullabaloo over the stance, or lack of a stance that the denomination has or has not taken via homosexuality. If only we had a bishop, or a pope, or even a governing board that could make doctrinal decisions, then we would be more streamlined, more focused, and would be better able to witness to the world; or at least some would argue.
What is a secret are the reasons why we (Baptists) exist in the manner in which we do. We claim to ideals and “distinctives” as if they were given to us by Christ, but seldom speak to the social-historical context from which they derive, or to the theological foundations upon which they are based. Such a weak claim to central identifying characteristics will make it easy to chip away at such ideas as church autonomy and priesthood of the believers (which I believe a hierarchy would be opposed to).
Enter the recently deceased Paul Harrison’s book Authority and Power in the Free Church Tradition. While this book was originally published in 1959, it still is relevant in many ways today. Harrison speaks of the idea of freedom, reminding the reader that the original focus of the Baptists was to focus on the freedom of God; he analyzes the confession to demonstrate this early stance of the Baptists. He then offers a sociological study of the Convention (now it is a denomination). The weakness is that his study was done in the 1950s, before the infamous, (and deadly) SCODS decision, yet his analysis of the 1907 formation of the denomination is apt and still current. Harrison is looking at the role of the executive minister in the denomination, but his analysis goes beyond that focus. Harrison questions the very foundation and nature of the denomination. Based on his analysis of the 1907 denominational formation, I wonder if he would be celebrating the centennial of the ABC, or instead scoffing and quoting Francis Wayland’s spiteful description of the festering carcasses of institutions on the landscape of Christendom. The sociological descriptions and sharp and to the point, his historical analysis is brilliant, and his overall analysis of Baptist polity of worth reading by every seminary student, pastor, and denominational stooge (executive).
In his conclusion, Harrison states that the priesthood of the believer, soul freedom, and local church autonomy must be held in tension with associational interdependence, and the rule of the community. It is a both/and, not an either or. So the mess is necessary and appropriate. It is a way to ensure not that we are allowing the believer to be free, but that we are staying out of the way of God. If God is not free, then we cannot be free. To ensure that the church does not become an burden, a barrier to the movement of the Lord, we need the chaos and the mess. Only then can the Holy Spirit be free.

a diversion

This is a prayer that a Luthern friend shared with me. I thought it was pretty good...

"A Sacristy Prayer" by Martin Luther

Lord God, you have appointed me as a pastor in your church, but you see how unsuited I am to meet so great and difficult a taks. If I had lacked your help, I would have ruined everything long ago. Therefore I call upon you: I wish to devote my mouth and my heart to you; I shall teach the people. I myself will learn and ponder diligently upon your word. Use me as your instrument - but do not forsake me, for if I should ever be on my own, I would easily wreck it all. Amen

How do you know?

How do we know what we know? The question of epistemology has been bantered back and forth, back and forth. It is a question that has been left to the philosophers, the Cartesians (we know because we think), the realists (we know what we see) the Kantians (we can conceive of the possibility…. and see glimpses of things), the linguists (we know what the grammar of the community gives us language to know), and on and on. It is a question that theologians seem to stay away from because what can we say – we know because God said so. We know that creation is good because God said it is good, or at least we have decided to take the Bible as a source of knowing the words of God. Philosophically, this sounds weak. Yet William Abraham, in Crossing the Threshold of Divine Revelation, suggests that theologians should embrace the question of epistemology and discuss how we know what we know.
Abraham is not a novice to the conversation in philosophical circles, nor is he unaware of theological conversations. He footnotes offer a wonderful side-conversation around the meat of his text. Yet he seems to set his bar to high and then offer the platitude that we know about God through the divine revelation of God. We believe because God told us to believe, we saw God, we had an experience, etc. This seems weak.
Abraham claims that we know our faith through “canonical theism” – the knowledge of Christianity is based upon scriptures, early Christians, and tradition. It is almost Catholic (Scripture and Tradition). Yet that one crosses the threshold of that knowledge via divine revelation. We come to believe the substance of canonical theism because of a revelation of the Lord. Terry Tilley, suggests in Inventing Catholic Tradition that we come to know our faith through the grammar and rules of our faith. One does not need an intervention from on high to believe, one only needs to learn the language. Abraham is suggesting that someone could learn the who language, but will not have complete knowledge of God without God’s intervention – which he claims is rational. I find nothing rational about looking to a higher power for knowledge. Just as we mock those who look to aliens for that greater knowledge, I think it is appropriate for others to mock Christians who look to God for greater knowledge. When we are all on the rooftop, with our arms outstretched, asking for guidance, is there a difference? Our faith and knowledge of our faith is foolishness to the world (I think Paul said something about this…).
What I think Abraham is offering that is useful is a way to speak of epistemology from within the community. How do we know what we know? If we approach the issue from simply a philosophical standpoint, or even from a Wesleyian standpoint, all we have are tradition, reason, experience and scripture. Yet there is something that brings us to a point when we can say, “I believe in God, and thus view scripture, tradition, etc… as agents of the divine revelation.” Tilley would not look for that moment of revelation for knowledge, claiming that a part of our grammar is to claim a divine revelation. Abraham is claiming that the divine revelation is necessary for us to be able to speak and understand the grammar. Hence the issue, is the revelation of God necessary for knowledge or a part of the tradition? Chicken or egg?

A Subversive text

I have finally read some Ellul (for a book group that I belong to). A friend of mine has been bugging me for about three years to read the dead frenchman. The Subversion of Christianity is an interesting text which make broad and powerful claims about Christianity today. Ellul is arguing that all has been marred in Christianity (kinda) and that what we call Christianity is really just an “ism”, “denoting an ideological or doctrinal trend deriving from a philosophy” (pg. 10). He claims that true Christianity is;
1. the revelation and work of God accomplished in Jesus Christ
2. the being of the church as the body of Christ
3. the faith and life of Christians in truth and love

Being true to his French roots, Ellul decides to call true Christianity “X” and Christianity is the bastardized practice that many of us are involved in today. It all started with the entrance of philosophy into Christianity, or actually into Judaism. Ellul almost one-up’s Milbank Theology and Social Theory (posthumously and preeminently) claim that Christianity lost its way with the Reformation. Ellul claims that Hellenization of Judaism and Christianity was the beginning of the end. From there, even a rightly thought out idea or theory would still veer in the wrong direction because of the rotten foundation. Yet further in the book Ellul uses scripture from the Hellenized New Testament to argue against other subversions of Christianity (the drive for political power, for example). Hmmm, can one use flawed sources to argue against a flawed system? Ellul makes some great critiques of Christianity’s compromise with the state, with Islam (a fascinating chapter), with the separation of the sacred and the secular (again driving one to think of Milbank), with morals, and a drive for power. Ellul also has a great chapter about powers, and evil akin to Walter Wink’s work on the Powers and principalities.
Where I am unsettled is with Ellul’s conclusion. The Holy Spirit will make everything right, even if it is just for a moment. Is this a realized Eschatology resting on a wholly pnumatological causality? Or in other words, if we have f**ked up Christianity so much, do we have any hope of getting it right, or do we have to completely relay upon the actions of God, specifically the Holy Spirit, to experience the true Christianity that was intended? How much can we do, and how much is out of our hands? I think it is important to rely upon the Holy Spirit. I think it is important to get messy, not have things under control, to let go of our own desires and see where things lead. Yet I would also like to think that there is a relational nature to the Holy Spirit. I would like to that that not only does the Holy Spirit act, but we respond. I would also like to think that at times, despite ourselves, we act in a good and almost pure way, and the Holy Spirit can respond. It is a messy ecclesiology, theology, eschatology, but it is one where we can’t place all of the control in the hands of humans who have a tendency to screw up everything that is touched.

Flannery O'Connor - Dirty, gritty Spirituality

Here is my first official post post-exams. Maybe not exciting for anyone else, but for me….. So, to relax, I read the complete stories of Flannery O’Connor. I have already written about one of O’Connor’s stories (a Good Man…), but I think the entire volume deserves some attention. I will not presume to write as a critique, for that is not my training. I cannot speak to O’Connor’s literary style, influences, technique, etc… I will not presume to think that I really have anything to offer to the world of literature concerning O’Connor, so I write about her book with some humility. I do write as a Baptist theologian who has been studying the American Catholic experience for a number of years, and I think that brings a specific insight to O’Connor’s writings (a catholic who uses Baptist as her subjects in the south). The only thing I am missing is the Southern background, but I can only do so much.
Before I go any farther, I should remind the reader(s) and myself that we cannot try to read O’Connor’s mind. After writing my bit on “A Good Man…” I realized that I was working hard to try to understand what O’Connor was trying to say in her powerful story. This is a pursuit that will drive all mad, including the author. Need I remind the post-modern audience that the writer’s intent is a modernistic truth that is illusive. Read Stanley Fish (early or late) and you will know what I mean (hopefully). I cannot read O’Connor’s mind, nor can I ask her (she is in no position to answer) what she intended (she may not know herself). All I can do is react to her writings from my own horizion of experience.
It is good to get that off my chest.
I don’t think any of the stories were bad, but a couple really stood out as I read them:
The Turkey
Enoch and the Gorilla
A Good Man Is Hard to Find
The Life You Save May Be Your Own
The River
The Displaced Person
Good Country People
A View of the Woods
Everything The Rises Must Converge
The Partridge Festival
Revelation
Parker’s Back

O’Connor seems to end many of her stories with a sacramental moment when reality blurs with the kingdom of God; sometimes this feels forced, and sometimes this moves well. Her Catholicism is clear and obvious in a subdued (and sometimes not so subdued) kind of way. Her theology is deeply sacramental, often occurring in the mundane and the profane. It seems that O’Connor is putting down those who see themselves as religious and pious and lifts up the honest and authentic. The Misfit in “A Good Man….” may actually be the good man as he kills the grandmother. There is something gritty and earthy about O’Connor’s spirituality that transcends to the kingdom of God.
After reading the volume, I find a picture of the Kingdom of God challenged, deconstructed and reconstructed by O’Connor’s stories. The Kingdom of God does not seem to be a place where the pious, the holy, the socially acceptable will live, but a place where the poor, the cripple, the simple and the sinful will be found (see the end of Revelation). When I talk to some of my parishioners, I hear an image of heaven that is all white and perfect and full of only the holy people. O’Connor is challenging this. O’Connor is challenging the gritty and dirty and profane aspects of life as places where God’s presence can actually be found. O’Connor is challenging the sanctuaries as clean places and showing them as only half-saved. O’Connor is challenging the class, economic, societal structure that is so prevalent in the church as something that is upside down when it comes to the Lord’s economy of grace and salvation. Her stories are rich, engaging and challenging. Someone once told me (I think it was my sister-in-law) that a good writer can be read again and again. O’Connor is this kind of writer, who I know will continue to challenge and push me again and again.

New Feature - Library

You'll notice on the right (my left...) a random selection of books from my library. I haven't entered all of my books in the program yet, but am working on it. If you are interested in one of the books that I have, let me know and I'll share a bit about it. I have books to give the impression that I might know what I am talking about.

VICTORY!

I passed the exam!!! Now I am officially a Doctoral Candidate! ABD (all but dead)

A Good Analogy is Hard to Find

I am in the midst of exams – on Thursday I took the written section of the exam, and I will take the oral on Monday. All the while, in order to hold onto some semblance of my sanity, I have been reading some of the stories of Flannery O’Connor. She writes with power, depth, and sacramentality (and good, dark humor).
One of the stories that has really stuck in my head is her well known, “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” I recommend reading it – it shouldn’t take to long. With my first read of the story, I had to get over the shock of the ending – something in me really wants the best for people, and didn’t want the family to die. Something in me wanted the Misfit to make a radical decision and not kill any of the family. No doubt there is something to be said for the desire to find the good in people. Perhaps that is one of the driving points of the story, and something to keep in consideration. I have read the story a couple of times since then, I have talked to others about the story, and have read one review online (which I will try to keep out of my head so that it will not unduly influence my own musings).
I am sure that many, many people have written volumes and could offer a very thorough analysis of the story (and I invite your interpretations via comments), so I offer my thoughts with humility. The Misfit doesn’t fit. He went into the “hole,” the solitary confinement and came back the same person. He is in prison paying for some sin which he doesn’t remember but is sure that he committed and when he emerges from the hole he is still paying for the sin. Christ went into the hole and came up a new person – the Misfit didn’t fit. Or, Christ went into the hole and forgave all sins, and now all sins are equal – all people deserve to be punished/forgiven regardless if they kill someone or steal a tire iron. I know there is more but I am intrigued by the consideration of Christ. If Christ makes all sins equal, then should we start to treat all sinners in an equal way? Should we offer the harshest punishment for the smallest crime, or should we look at the other side of the coin and offer the greatest forgiveness to the greatest crime?
Or, should we assume that after going through a “rehabilitative” experience of one sort or another that we should be changed. The Eastern State Penitentiary was designed with the theory that if one would only take some time to sit and think about the wrongs he or she committed, then the person would change his or her ways. Time in isolation, in “the hole” should lead towards change.
These are just some initial thoughts that are rough and brief. Hopefully, when this hell of exams passes, I will be able to offer more substance and coherence. In the meantime, I will continue to study, read, and every now and then think more about “A Good Man is Hard to Find.”

New Baby

We had a new Baby on August 6, and I am still planning on taking the exam... I think I am crazy.

now I am committed

Well, my questions, prospectus and reading list have all been sent to my committee. So I have to keep on studying and be ready for the fateful date. I am a little nervous.

I lost my kitchen

Nothing to do with anything, but we are adding onto our home - with child number four, we need more space! To build up, we must tear down, and now my kitchen is gone.

Righteous Pricks

I’m working on my sermon, while preparing for my Comp’s. So I am a little bit stressed. This is one of the times when it would be nice to take a break from church and just focus on studies. But, I need to pay the bills, so I will continue to work.

Thoughts on Psalm 52 – a psalm of a bitter person.

When I read this psalm, I get a vision of a righteous-pious person preaching “I’m better than you” to the sinful bastards of the world. I get a vision of some tie-wearing, bible toting person standing on a rock, looking down at the mightaly wicked and saying – “I told you so.” This is not a great picture of Christianity in my mind.
Who would want to worship with this kind of prick, who is always looking for ways to put people in their place? I know I am not that righteous, and I am certainly not that pious. I don’t think the psalm is giving us permission to act high and mighty, but gives a real view of a common human reaction. Some people are better off in life with finances, etc than other. Some people gain their possessions through underhanded and evil ways. We need to name the acts as evil, but when we name the person as evil, then we lose a part of the essence of Christ. Yet even as I write this, I have a dream that someday I will be standing up on that rock, looking down on those who were the pious, righteous pricks and say “I told you so.”
Catch 22?

One final thought – Baptists have a spirituality/theology/liturgy, it just has not been articulated

sermon thoughts: good samaritian

The sermon text I am pondering is from Luke 10:25-37

A man is walking down the road, and is accosted by robbers…. A familiar story, perhaps to familiar, because it is very easy to just hear the story and respond with a surface, acceptable kind of response. It is very easy to just say, “yes, yes, I will be kind to other people.” It is easy to just read the word on one surface level and not go any deeper.
Yet we are called to let the text engage us, and we need to let the text take us to a deeper place that challenges us, forms us and shapes us. So we could stay safe with the story or let the story be dangerous in our lives. We could let the danger of the bible enter into our lives.

Here is an outline:

We are comfortable with this familar story
We are comfortable with a familar faith
We are called to take a deeper, more dangerous approach to the story
Really love the Lord your God.....
A dangerous love of the neighbor
A dangerous faith that one engages again and again

freedom and memory

Note: Currently working of a sermon based on Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20; influenced by Metz (dangerous memory), “Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation” by the CDF (Ratzinger), and the upcoming 4th of July

What do we have to lament in our nation today? Is it the just out of reach feeling we have as a church influencing the society? Is it the supposed lack of freedoms we enjoy (although I don’t think I could list any right now… liberal mush). Is it the supposed lack of religious freedoms we enjoy (although I don’t think I could list any of those right now… conservative mush). What do we have to lament in our nation today. For what does the memory of the Fourth of July give us hope? For what does the idea of independence, sacrifice, and nationalism give us courage?

Are we free? If we are held down by any physical illness than we are not free. If we are held down by any mental malaise or spiritual malcontent than we are not free. We walk as if held down by borders, held down by our own inadequacies and misfortunes; we are not free. But can we blame the leaders of our nation for such shackles? Can we blame the politicians for such barriers?

Are we free? If we hold back in questioning and critiquing, than we are not free. If we fear criticism and judgment for our budding beliefs and growing faith than we are not free. If we cannot challenge the government from our foundation of faith, even as others reject our challenge from their foundation of faith than we are not free.

Are we free? If we believe that “I” am important, the be-all, end-all and community is secondary than we are not free. If we believe that the nation serves us, and not us the people of the nation (watch the wording there), than we are not free. We cannot be free as “I”. We cannot be free as individuals. We cannot be free without the support, the demands and the relationships of communities. Alone we are not free.

Where can we look to remember our freedom? Look to our memory. Remember the passion of the English Separatists who desired a higher standard of the government. Remember the typological vision of Roger Williams who say Rhode Island as the Kingdom of God becoming. Remember the passion of Madison and Jefferson who believed that religion, practiced freely, could be a positive and necessary moral influence on government. Remember the Baptists who believe that God’s salvation must be accepted freely. Look to the Lord God who freed the Israelites from the bondage of Israel, who parted the waters and let the shackles of oppression fall into the hardship of Egypt.

Remember Christ who calls us to transcend our malaise, our malcontent, our illness, our shackles of sin and truly live. Remember Christ who calls us, sends us, and directs us to be free. Remember Christ, let the memory of Christ be our future banner, and we will begin to be free.

Thoughts on a Title

The title “theosnob” is a bit pretentious. It is a title that almost begs a fight. Yet it is something that I think is true to who I am as a person. All through college, seminary, and in my doctoral work, I have been someone who would live passionately. In college, my passion was music. I could talk to someone for hours about composers, methods of composition, and the philosophical implications that one could consider in music. I was (and still am to a lesser degree) very passionate about music. My passion was at times annoying. I would call others to a high level of appreciation, of enjoyment. I never liked crap, and would scoff at composers like Susa or John Williams. I was a music snob.
Then I went to seminary, and began to study theology, history, bible and ethics. My passion for thinking about God and speaking about God grew, developed and emerged in a similar, annoying way as my passion for music. I would expect that others would have a high level of theological sophistication, understanding and appreciation. I especially expected this of other pastors (boy was I let down!).
But here is the thing. Not everyone needs to understand the difference between polyphonic modal counterpoint, and harmonic fugues in the style of Bach. Yet people think about God. People ask the infinite questions, struggle with the caverns of the divine and think theologically. Whether we want to or not, we think from time to time theologically.
In those moments of anguish and despair, when one looks for hope and the presence of the divine, if all one has in his or her arsenal of theological thoughts is crap, then the theological understanding is crap. “God has a plan for killing you son” – that’s crap. So I am going to be a snob and call people, especially other pastors, to a higher level of theological competency. Be consistent with your crap if you really need to hold onto it, or take a chance, trust in God, and try to find something that might just deepen your relationship with the Lord.
So hopefully I will be annoying with my theological snobbery, with a large dash of humility, because a lot of the ideas I have are also crap and I have a lot of learning and growing to do. What I will look to and rest upon is a consistent passion to learn and grow with the Lord.

Something New

I think I am going to try a different approach to my blog. I’ll continue to write about the works that I have read (although I have missed a couple), but I feel as if my blog is not as honest or as helpful as it could be. I have been compartmentalizing my doctoral work, separating it from the rest of my life, and I feel as if I am starting to wear myself out. I am finding that I am tired more and more, and that one part of my life is not necessarily fueling the other – this is the road to burn-out. One of the reasons I decided to pursue the doctoral track was because I felt it would positively influence my ministry. Yet in the past couple of months I do not feel as if this has been the effect. So, I am going to try to have a little more breath over all of my life, as well as some more depth over my own struggles and concerns, challenges and joys.
My hope is that it will offer a platform for me to express my own questions in an honest way, and at the same time offer more to the public (all 5 of you) an approach to ministry.

Medical Ethics and Truths

I am working slowly, but moving forward because my exam date is set for August. With that said, I just read some clippings from the New England Journal of Medicine, in the Correspondence section (May 3, 2007, 1889-1891) "Religion, Conscience, and Controversial Clinical Practices." They were in response to an article about doctors choosing or not choosing to provide options for treatment if they had a "conscienciance objection" I have not yet read the article, but plan to. Anyway, here was my response to the person who gave me the articles:


I just read the “Correspondence” from the NEJM that you sent to me. Very interesting stuff asking a very good question. The way I think of it is in terms of “truth.” Which “truth” should prevail in patient-doctor relationship. One of the contributors stated that an individual should not have to forfeit his or her conscience when joining a profession. Yet another stated that there is a class difference between the physician and the patient, and the onus is on the physician to assume the mantle of responsibility in offering the very best care (M. Foucault would have some interesting insights on the relational power differential).
Here are my thoughts. As far as I know, there is a code of ethics for the medical profession, starting with the Hippocratic oath and developed through time and tradition. If this is the case, than this code, as it has been passed down, is a kind of “truth” under which one practices medicine. While that “truth” may at times be vague and amorphous, it is still present in the practice of medicine. At the same time, a physician may come from a faith or community context where another set of “truths” are practiced (Christianity, Judaism, Jehovah Witness, etc). The values and ideals of the two “truths” may overlap and at times they may clash. When a patient visits a physician he or she may not come from the same community context as that individual physician, but may be expecting that the “truth” of the medical profession will be observed and practiced. This is why Jews should be able to use Muslim doctors without worry – the “truth” of the medical profession prevails in that particular context. Thus, I would argue that a physician can hold onto his or her “truths” as long as they do not clash with the “truth” of medicine, realizing that in the context of the exam room, the “truth” of medicine prevails over the “truth” of the physician’s particular faith community.
In my own context, I have had to compromise what I hold as my own “truth” for the sake of the larger community. When I took on the vows of ordination, I realized that I would not be able to fully and freely speak the truth of Christ as I understand it. Instead I would have to speak it in a way that the community can hear it and grow into it. The truth of my profession (to help lead churches, and share Christ) prevails over the particular truths found within my own relationship with Christ. (With that said, the dissonance is far less than the congruence; otherwise I would not be able to serve at all. When finding a church, one needs to find something that matches up fairly well, realizing that a perfect match will only be found in heaven.)
This may not seem do different from what others have in the clipping, except that I have used the word “truth” instead of “conscience.” This is a deliberate choice in terms. Conscience suggests that the individual physician is just that, an individual physician who thinks on his or her own without any input from any outside source. I would argue that one does have a conscience, but only within the context of a community. Within that community are truths, and the individual conscience dictates how he or she interacts with those truths. I wonder if naming the truths of the medical profession, the truths of the individual’s community and then comparing will help the physician prepare for those moments when he or she is faced with the individual ethical dilemma.
Just some thoughts, feel free to reply – thanks for the articles!

Peace,
Jonathan

Moving right along - McGreevy's work Parish Boundaries: The Catholic Encounter with Race in the Twentieth-Century Urban North. This is an excellent work, a great example of a "thick description" of a large part of our Nation's history. McGreevy takes the issue of race relations and focus in on Catholics in the Urban North and their reactions and tensions. It is a great reminder that none of us have clean hands, and how systematic racisism can be. It is also a great example of considering closely how one group of people were involved in a larger event. I strongly recommend.

Next up, John Mahoney's The Making of Moral Theology: A Study of the Roman Catholic Tradition. As far as a historical work goes, this one was fine. Mahoney showed the conflicts withing the tradition and the development of moral theology that emerged out of those conflicts. The whole idea of "moral theology" is still a little new to me as a Baptist. We are so focused on the word that the idea of developing understandings of morality seem different. Yet we do have a developing moral theology that has ememrged through our particular readings of scripture. It would not be bad to look at the development of the Baptist moral theology based upon interaction with scripture and see what has changed and what has stayed the same over time.

What Paul might have meant if he had a good advocate

It’s been a while – I’ll blame Easter. I’m going to try to catch up with the works that I have read/reviewed as best as I can. First, let’s look at What Paul Meant by Garry Wills. Harvey Cox wrote a review of this work that I think was kinder than necessary. After reading Wills’ work, I am left wondering what his agenda might be, and who his audience might be. Wills is trying to make Paul out to be a decent person, but doesn’t use any substantial scholarship or background to support his claim. He continually trashes Luke as historically suspect, unless it supports his own claims that he wants to make about Paul. Wills’ use of scholarship is weak at best (Cox makes this point), and his exploration of issues is surface level and quickly jumps to conclusions. It feels like Wills is making a classic interpretation error, forcing a text (or in this case a cannon of texts around a person) into a category that fits his agenda. Not quite scholarship, nor is it devotional, nor is it inspirational. I wouldn’t recommend the book to anyone.

That tricky, tricky Bible

The Bible is a tricky thing. It is devious, misleading, contradicting, and tends to add fuel to the fire of violence. Yet it also teaches a profound love, a profound sense of justice, mercy, grace and peace. It is a tricky thing. Hyper-conservatives who lean towards reading the Bible literally tend to take the literal words that are convenient to his or her life situation, or agenda. Wishy-washy liberal who hold the Bible like a hot-potato tend to hold up the aspects and parts of scripture that will lead toward that idealist picture of everyone in the world holding hands and singing some kind of throw-back greasy song like “Give Peace a Chance,” or “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing.” As a Baptist, I strive to hold the Word as an authoritative source for my faith, yet I come out of that wish-washy background, and read with a hesitancy towards the “dangerous” texts.
Here is the book that I read – The Moral Vision of the New Testament by Richard B. Hays. This work offers a comprehensive methodological approach to the NT that avoids the flawed and irresponsible approach of literal inerrancy. Yet Hays does not fall into the whining liberal trap of only historical context as the balm for the “dangerous” texts. Hays considers the rules, the practices, the paradigm and the symbolic world that is offered, holding reason, tradition and experience (Methodists rejoice!) in tension with the text. It is an approach that looks to the canonic value of the entire NT and does not let one text trump over another (this means you can’t hate the homosexual… sorry Phelps, but you are just an --- ---- who is misusing the text).
Yet I wonder if bias still plays a part in interpretation. Hays considers the issues of divorce, homosexuality, Jewish-Christian relationships and abortion. He gives us the impression that he is approaching the text with an objective eye to let the Bible guide him in his discernment. In his conclusions, while well reasoned, and consistent with his methodological, he falls on the conservative side of the issues. Now I must wonder if he fell on those sides because that is where the “moral vision” of the NT is leading him, or because it was where he started. Or, is my pause to find myself completely embracing Hays’ conclusion because of where I have started? Hays critiques Hauerwas’ claim that the Bible is read within one’s tradition, claiming that the Bible should always lead and guide tradition (that is a good Baptist claim). Yet can we ever escape our context? I read Hays chapter on abortion, and I read it as a stronger indictment against poverty – that is due in large part to the context from which I emerge.
The Bible is a tricky thing, one that I strive to hold as an authority. Yet I do not believe it is possible to remove the Bible from the context of the reader and life it up as an objective source guiding us in all that we do. In the end, as Hays suggests, we must rest on the Holy Spirit to guide our reading of these dangerous and liberating text.

afterthought: I read this text for my book group, not the doctoral work - but it is still a worthwhile book to read

Speaking of God...

How do we speak of God? I have just finished two works that approach the question from different points of view. Peter Rollins' book, How (Not) to Speak of God suggests that we really can’t say anything about God, and at the same time we need to strive to say something about God. He is coming out of the emergent church movement, and seems to be offering a theology for that movement (which is interesting for a movement that claims to be a-orthodox). Maybe because I previously read Caputo’s work and had that in my mind, or maybe because Caputo recommended the work that I have this feeling, but it seems to be Caputo, light. Specifically The Weakness of God. Rollins offers a nice view of his favorite theologians and theological movements, but does not seem to be offering any deep or profound kind of thoughts. While he does not reference the idea of apophatic and cataphatic theology (he does reference Dionysius), this seems to be the theology that Rollins is advocating. He claims to be apolitical and atheological specifically with different movements, but considering the way he treats the fundamentalists and the evangelicals, and the fact that he would consider talking about “queer” folk in Christianity suggests that he leans towards the progress, open side of theology. Not that their’s anything wrong with that. What I enjoyed about Rollins work is this emphasis on the journey and the space between the words in finding God. God is not found in our concepts, ideas or boxes. We cannot speak of God, and so must rest in the yearning to speak of God. It is a humbling reminder to all of us who strive to do theology.
On the other hand, a bunch of Catholic feminist theologians are trying to suggest different ways to speak of God. I am referring to the work, Freeing Theology, edited by Catherine Mowry LaCugna. It is not specifically the content of the book that is fueling my musing, but the agenda of the feminist movement (and many other theological movements for that matter). They are arguing about how to speak of God. Is God a “He” or a “She?” Elizabeth Johnson suggests that Jesus Christ needs to be understood as the incarnation of the spirit. Mary O’Neil argues that the relationship between many and woman needs to be lifted up over the idea that man and woman complement each other. They are arguing for a specifically way to speak of the church and to speak of God.
Even with Rollins book in mind, I cannot find fault with the feminists. They are not so much trying to define God, but trying to change the language that speaks about God. Language that is confining and demeaning effects the spirituality and the experience of many women in the church. To say that we must change the way we speak about God is not to try to force God into a box, but to free people from boxes. To go immediately to silence ignores the experience of the oppressed. I believe that one must move from the language of restriction to the language of liberation to the silence of God. The feminists are making that move towards the silence of God by first freeing their own experience.

a weak posting

Caputo – The Weakness of God. I finished this book about a week ago, but haven’t had a chance to mention it. It is for my book group, so I haven’t felt the same kind of necessity to write about it. It is a great book with some interesting points. Basically – God is weak, Process Theology, French deconstructionism, and fun writing style. Our group meet with Caputo and find him to be very passionate about topic. That is always encouraging.

Dirty Sources

I have finished two different works, but I put each in their own post. One is “Instruction on Certain Aspects of the ‘Theology of Liberation’” It is a document that comes out of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and written by then Ratzinger.
The main concern for the CDF is the source of Liberation theology, which they consider to be Marxism. In the CDF’s estimation, Marxism can only lead to despair. As an alternative, the CDF suggests that the liberating nature of the Gospel be enough for those theologians who might be looking for more.
I’m not going to get into the argument between the CDF and liberation theologians, but I am going to consider this idea of sources. Can one use an idea that is secular in nature, and use it for the good of Christianity? Does the source ruin the product? The Baptists have had this argument with the Modernist/Fundamentalist debate. The Fundi’s argued that the Modernists were being corrupted by the ideas of the secular world. Yet the irony is, so were the Fundi (see Fri’s Eclipse of Biblical Narrative). The Reformers yelled sola scriptura, but also gathered around nominalistic philosophies. Can one connect only to the Gospel? Can one have the purest of sources? Probably not. Yet I do not think we want to move to an ends focused consideration of theology as well.
There is no way I am going to solve this in one posting, but here is a suggestion. We are part of something larger – historically, socially, politically, theologically, etc. We can neglect that of which we are a part, or we can connect, and be true to where we come from, how we are influenced and where we are going. We are a part of a narrative. And if we are even going to divert course of the narrative, we need to be clear why. I believe the Liberation Theologians were offering a course change to the Catholic Church, that was not accepted because of sources. Liberation theologians were not trying to become Marxist, but were trying to stay true to their context, their narrative, and were using the best tools they could find to offer a change. The story, the story, the story.

the way of life

Ever find yourself mired in the muck and you ask, “what am I doing here?” As I struggle with this expletive degree, every now and again, I find myself asking just that question. It is a question that also emerges as I struggle as a pastor (have I mentioned that I am a pastor?), trying to balance my studies and my ministry. Granted, my studies are a part of my ministry, but there is a separation between the two.
A question of vocation, or of life, was thrust upon me as I read Parker Palmer’ Let Your Life Speak. It is not an academic work, and not for my exam. I read this book in preparation for a gathering of young clergy serving small churches called the First Parish Project. It is a short book with some good insight. While I disagree with the Quaker influenced theology (God is our inner-light), I think Palmer does offer some good points. Primarily the emphasis on doors closing, ways closing and death. Palmer claims that out of death, new life emerges. Out of closure and rejection new paths open. Not only is Palmer right, but it is refreshing to hear this idea in a way that does not look for the “silver lining” on every cloud. That is weak. Palmer, instead, is looking to stay with the cloud until the necessary time passes. That is better.
It reminds me of an essay in the book The Ties that Bind comparing Glenn Hinson’s works with Blackbury’s work (I think). The point I remember is Hinson focusing and staying with the despair, hurt and darkness. Blackbury looked to the sin that caused the despair and how to “fix it.” Hinson stayed with the despair.
So, when I am in the muck and wondering why I’m here, I’ll try to stop wondering and just keep moving. Studying for a doctorate will cause pain, there is no way to avoid it. Having children will cause pain. Serving a church will cause pain. Yet, we look for the presence of God in the pain, the joy in the tears, and the moment when the pain passes. This is the way life leads.

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?

A High Catholic Imagination

Just finished reading Greeley’s The Catholic Imagination. Greeley is making an interesting argument that Catholicism infuses one with an “imagination,” or an awareness of a “haunted presence of the Holy Spirit and grace in all of creation.” He claims that this awareness shows up most clearly in high culture. Greeley spends an entire chapter on just the church building as an example of this Catholic imagination in high culture.
Greeley also makes the distinction between high tradition and popular tradition. High tradition is what comes from the leaders and the theologians of the religious movement. Popular tradition is what one learns as one is “coming home from school.” This work is a good example of sociology taking the front seat to theology. There is a theology implicit in Greeley’s work, but the cultural studies have become more important that the idea itself of a “sacramental consciousness.” All Greeley cites is David Tracy’s Analogical Imagination; a good work, but only one in the field.
I wonder if Greeley is closing his sample set when he is looking only at “high culture” for the Catholic imagination. Granted, Greeley is looking at movies as well, but leans towards those which may be less accessible. What about the Catholic imagination in Notre Dame Football – not a high culture endeavor? Or what about the Catholic imagination in neighborhood ethnic club in Chicago or Philadelphia? These would have been primarily Catholic strongholds in the 1920s and on, but ones that would have been separate from the Catholic church. It is interesting that Greeley holds up “popular tradition” as, in a sense, the true Catholic religion, but does not look at “low culture.”
Finally I wonder if these implications carry into the Baptist movement. Greeley makes a lot of general Protestant claims in comparison to the Catholic claims, yet because of the scope of the work, does not look more closely at the different strains of the Protestant movement. What would the Baptist imagination look like if there is one? What aspects of the Baptist movement would be found in the popular tradition? Perhaps, we need to look seriously at that which Greeley argues maintains the Catholic tradition – the story tellers. People to pass on the stories, the narrative and the values of the Baptist movement encourage and enrich the popular imagination. We need to claim our movement as just that to tell the stories of who we are, and why we are as Baptists.

Baptist and Dissent

Been busy for a couple of days. I wanted to note that I am not planning on writing any more about the religion and postmodernism conference, because it has been so long since the conference. The ideas have become fuzzy in my head, and notes are not enough.
This past weekend, I went to the AAR annual meeting, for the day. I only got to attend on paper reading on ecclesiology, which was interesting. I did have an interesting conversation with my dissertation director. Among other things, we talked about the Baptist identity of dissent. Wm. Brackney, among others, argue that dissent is an essential aspect of Baptist identity. Not only are Baptists known to dissent from the popular or prevailing opinion, but Baptists also make the room for dissent of all peoples. We considered the catophatic (spelling?) representation of the apophatic (spelling?) understanding of dissent. In other words, how does one display this thread of dissent, as it is understood, in the concrete life of the church? Further, how much does dissent shape the Baptist movement and the particular church? One could argue that many churches do not, in fact, make room for the voice of dissent. Rather, churches look for uniformity amongst the members. Would one still consider those churches Baptists? If there is room for dissent, then there is always room for soul freedom. Perhaps, then, we could consider the non-dissenting churches and not really Baptists churches. A stance I am leaning towards embracing more and more. Unless these churches are dissenting from the stance of dissent. Then it becomes circular, and still moot if the churches do not leave a space open for dissent. Finally, how is dissent displayed, or practiced, liturgically? Some good things to think about.

choose your own adventure ethics

I have just finished re-reading Time Past, Time Future by John Gallagher. The work is basically an historical survey of Moral Theology. While the beginning of the work seems fairly harmless, by the end of the work, Gallagher is clearly presenting and pushing a specific theological agenda. But first, a couple of thoughts on the historical survey. It is interesting that Moral Theology arrives from the pastoral rather than the academic context. I wonder what a theology of ethics would look like if it was purly formulated in an academic context. Granted, Gallagher points out the influence of Thomism as Moral Theology emerged and evolved, but it is clear that it began with the priests and confession. Perhaps a better question would be, what is the difference between Moral Theology, in its basic historical root, and Liberation Theology. Both seem to start with the experience of the people, but Moral Theology has had enough years to be sanitized by the academy and the Magisterium. Yet on a deeper level, Moral Theology is responding to the sin of the people and the way to achieve salvation, while Liberation Theology seems to be addressing the salvation of the people and the sin of society. This is a fundamental difference between focusing on the “rule” of God vs. the experience of the people. I am not sure where I would fall with the two – probably somewhere between the two.
Another point that Gallagher makes is the unique nature of American theology. It is something that emerges in the 1890sm, is squished, and then again after VII. Gallagher seems to cautiously be pushing proportionism (the Catholic version of situation ethics al la Fletcher). In proportionism, the individual chooses based on the teological end, the means to the end and the motive of the individual. The magisterium has more or less condemned this approach, but Gallagher still seems to embrace it. I can understand the Magisterium’s caution – such an approach could lead one to make decision leading to things like….abortion (shudder?) or use of birth control (gasp), or who know what else. Yet moral truisms that leave little room for negotiation can (as the proportionists argue) lead to other sins. Ah the muddy realm of ethics… didn’t Wittgenstein say something about the inarticulate nature of ethics?

Sharing hope

I just finished re-reading Gaudium et Spes. As a Baptist, I find reading Catholic works interesting. It is difficult for me to give authority that was written by a bunch of men in pointy hat, but I guess millions of Catholics like what they do (or at least they accept the writings). Every time I read GS, I am stirred to dream about the ideal church and the ideal Christian. We have a picture of a church that works towards the betterment of all humanity, that pushes toward economic justice, family values, and the development of science, art, and reason (all within limits). The Christian is the person who has a family, educates the children, pays taxed, and considers the neighbor, all in a days work. It is a nice idea. Of course I need to remember what a breakthrough this work was in 1965. It is a big deal for the OTC (one true church, as my Catholic friend would claim) to say that it is actually interested and connected with the hopes and joys, grief and sorrow of the world. It was as if the church, after 2000 years finally decided to start interacting with the world… well not quite, but close. I wonder if the church can work with society towards the betterment of the individual without losing its own identity (this is a critique I have of liberalism). In this case, GS continues to state that the truth of Jesus Christ is the driving force and the focus of all progress. I suppose that focus would keep one honest. It is an interesting position to take in interfaith dialogue, but probably an authentic one.

Religion and Postmoderism part 4

Moving right along, next we have Robert Bernasconi, “Why Athens and Jerusalem”
This paper looked at the debate between Derrida and Lebiniz, using it as a starting off point to consider the difference and similarity between Jewish thinking and Greek thinking. Bernasconi considered the tension towards Jewish thinking, and its separation from Greek philosophy – or at least the impression that there was a separation. He showed how Lebiniz did not try to separate the two, but looked to a synthesis similar to the Greek translation of the LXX. The works would be Greek in form but Hebrew in context. For example, the Greek concept of justice is a way to articulate the justice that is found in the prophets. I have hardly touched the depth of the paper, and I know I am not even coming close to giving Bernasconi justice in the work he did, his point in the end seemed to be, “why Athens and why Jerusalem?” Why do we need to have these two poles in particular set up? In the current context, we may wonder about Washington D.C. and Tehran, and a pole such as this one has very different philosophical and theological implications. Bernasconi showed that the poles of Athens and Jerusalem no longer seem to hold, but have been synthesized. So, the question that I pull from Bernasconi’s work is, what are the poles today that shape and direct our thinking, politics, theology, and other?

Religion and Postmodernism part 3

Moving right along, the next paper was presented by Simon Critchley, titled “The Catechism of the Citizen” (this was a change from his original title “The Need for Civil Religion in Politics, Law and Religion in and after Rousseau”).
I have not read much Rousseau at all, so my knowledge of the paper is weak at best. Yet I will still try to give some kind of summary of what I heard.
One of the points that Critchley made which stood out for me was the idea of the law in the social contract. According to Critchley, Rousseau did not agree with Locke or Hume, but saw law as a way to hold the tensions of society together. The law is something that is learned from an early age. Citizens have to be formed to obey the law, and to participate with the general will. Thus a love of law is essential. The law must rule the citizen’s hearts and form the passions. Critchley stated that laws are acts/expressions of the general will. Religion is not a necessary part of the law, but can be used to shape the hearts of the people (or can be a deterrent to call the people away. I know there is much more, but I was nodding off during this presentation, and I am not a Rousseau scholar. A point that I think Critchley was making was that politics can shape a person to obey the law, and can be seen as a form of religion. Or religion can take the form of politics to shape the heart of the individual. The point (if I got it right) is well put. The way we shape individuals in the churches can shape the way they follow (or not) the law. If nothing else, it puts a great deal of power in the hands of politics. I know I missed much in this paper, but this is what I have.

Where does faith come from, Kierkegaard?

Let’s take a little break from the Villanova conference. I just finished reading Philosophical Fragments by Soren Kierkegaard. I have to admit, this is not directly for my doctoral work, but is for a reading group I belong to… but then again, everything I read will in one way or another influence my doctoral work.
I also have to admit that I have not read much Kierkegaard – Fear and Trembling in seminary (btw, I am an Andover Newton Theological School alum). So it was a pleasant experience. I particularly liked the idea of a suffering love, and that God makes God’s self become like us out of love. I like the idea of the paradox as the source of one’s passion in learning and growing. What I am stuck on is the idea that faith is given by God. I may have not read closely enough, but I seemed to get the impression in the last chapter that we are not born with faith (a ludicrous thought!), and that we cannot gain faith by just learning about the historical event. The only way we can receive faith is from God. Yet, doesn’t that immediately make the relationship unequal. For Kierkegaard, the suffering love is God becoming one of us, to fully enter into a relationship where we have the opportunity to say “yes.” But how can we say “yes” if we aren’t given the faith from God? I suppose one could take a universalism approach and claim that God has given faith to everyone, and we just need to realize that faith. We would need to be careful to avoid claiming that the faith is a part of our nature – again something that Kierkegaard would see as ludicrous. We can’t share our faith but only out of our own experience. The individual needs to be free to receive the transformation on his or her own. So where does faith come from, if not our own inner-experience.

Religion and Postmoderism part 2

The next paper was presented by Stanley Hauerwas, A Haunting Possibility: Christianity and Radical Democracy
Hauerwas started out with a description of R. Coles’ understanding of “radical democracy.” Coles’ stated that his understanding of democracy was haunted by Yoder… we’ll get to that.
Some of the key points (as I understood them) in Coles’ RD are that democracy is a process that we are in search of, it is an activity, and is always beyond the actual democracy as we practice/know it. RD occurs when we go beyond the dominant forms to practice radical hospitality especially to the least of the society. This evokes the idea of preferential option of the poor – a concept that is often found in Liberation theology. The radical hospitality first to the least is a concept that Goizueta suggests. But I digress…
A community that practices RD works on listening, establishing stories, and making space at the table for all stories – similar to the idea that Welch presented.
Hauerwas then turned to Yoder. Yoder claims that politics creates the crucial ground for radical democracy, but it is politics based upon the cross – this is where Coles is haunted. (See Yoder’s Politics of Jesus) Yoder’s idea is connected to tradition, but is still open to others. It strongly challenges what it means to be a disciple of Jesus, it comes out of a community gathered (church), and has to stay connected to Jesus.
This politics is against the politics of Constantine – which is when the church works to learn and see from the world. It is in a level of engagement where the world tells the church what it needs to be.
RD works best on at the local level against the hierarchal. I think this is a very Baptist idea (but then again, Yoder is an Anabaptist), but Hauerwas connected to Augustine. Hauerwas claims that the speech of the empire is an orientation to death that looks to the significance of life. (Also Augustine) In the empire lying, self-deception, and a love of glory are held up. The best response that comes from Christianity is the martyr that does not depend on glory but on the glory of the communion of the saints.
The church is to challenge the world to what it can be, as a people who seek justice rather than glory.
Overall, I think we find a kind of Christ above culture typology (thanks Neibuhr!). The “haunting” challenge is that the politics which Coles is seeking, and many other secularists is only offered by Christianity. Yet where is the space for the other faith? This approach seems to go to the other extreme from Welch’s approach. I like the idea of staying true to the cross, but does staying true to the cross mean you must leave room for other stories. Again, where is the space for evangelism? But I may be missing something…

Religion and Postmoderism part 1

This past weekend I attended the Religion and Postmodernism conference at Villanova University. The focus of the conference was Athens and Jerusalem – Politics and Religion. It was a very engaging conference with a number of great papers presented. Since I am still a kind of neophyte in the field, I found myself struggling at times to follow the discussion, and at other times I was able to keep up with the discussion. Partly it depended on the topic of discussion – I can only study so much. I was happy to see that my tweed jacket fit in well with other’s tweed jackets.
What I plan to do in the next couple of entries is reflect on the papers presented. I missed the first paper which was presented on behalf of Metz, so I will start with Sharon Welch’s presentation. I do not presume to have the capacity to fully explain, or even partially explain the works, but I hope in reflecting I can engage some further thoughts, and sort some of the cobwebs out that were formed in my own mind.
Paper 1 – Sharon Welch – “Politics after Empire: Dangerous Memories, Cultivated Awareness and Enlivening Engagement”
Welch started with the question of power in American politics, citing Kane’s The Power of Story, claiming that we are stories. For example we have the story of EuroAmerica and the story of Indigenous America, and while the two overlap, they are not necessarily the same. In thinking about story, we are drawn to the question of evil in the story of politics. Welch suggests that destroying evil is insanity, and cannot be accomplished. She also rhetorically wondered if peacekeeping is also helpful with the question of evil in politics.
The story in American politics that engaged evil in a positive way is the Civil Rights movement. In that movement, direct action coerces evil in a way that could be positive or negative. (I think that what was Welch was saying, but I may be getting it wrong). Welch seemed to suggest that a dualist view of evil is not helpful, but a non-dualist approach offer another view. She turned to Buddhism for insight into this approach, specifically “Engaged Buddhism.” In this approach, emptiness and knowing versus non-knowing are emphasized. This is an approach that views knowledge as a gift to share and to receive. The ideal story is to share the emptiness where speech can be heard and shared.
At this point I was nodding off, and I very well may have missed one or two major points Welch was trying to make. I think Welch is trying to find a way for different stories to influence each other in a non-coercive way. Further, for a way for one group of people with one story to name an evil that comes from another group of people’s story. The Buddhist approach offers a way for engagement and sharing of knowledge that does not force or coerce. I do not think one can truly share without “persuading” (that sounds nicer than coercing). What if an Evangelical Christian was sharing with a Jew? It is the story of the Evangelical to try to convince the other (in this case the Jew) to convert. If the Evangelical did not try to do this, then he or she would not be true to his or her story. Further, by suggesting a method of interaction that comes from a specific story (in this case Engaging Buddhism), is in essence forcing one story upon other stories. I admire the idea, but wonder if it would work in reality.
Regardless, one should start with truly knowing one’s own story, otherwise one could be swept up into someone else’s story.
I’m sure I bungled up a lot of the details, but that was the basics of what I took from Welch’s paper.

Roman Catholics in America

Utah Phillips laments the grouping of history in decades (i.e. 80s, 90s, 50s, 60s), because time doesn’t fit that well into neat ten year packages. Patrick Carey avoids the grouping of decades in his book Roman Catholics in America – the recent book that I read. Instead, Carey groups the time by the movements that occurred over the dates through which they occurred. For example, 1776-1815 is “A Free Church in the Republic,” and 1866-1899 is “Towards Americanism.” It is a good way of looking at time that tends to the story of Catholicism rather than the bland meta-narrative of America that tries to force things into decades.
With that said, Carey’s book is good… very good. He is through, organized and focused. What I am trying to figure out is what is Carey’s agenda. What was Carey trying to push, or argue with his book? I would first suppose that Carey is arguing that there IS an American Catholic history. Carey is suggesting that there is a story to tell, but we’ve heard that before. I think Carey is arguing that Catholicism was always a reaction to Protestantism. For example, the Trustee controversies was partially caused by the republican context of the culture. Constantly, Catholics are reacting to American culture. Along with that, I think Carey is pushing a more “progressive” understanding of Catholicism. While Carey goes to great lengths to be fair, there seem to be more emphasis on the left side of Catholicism than the right.
Overall, it was an excellent book that give a great look at the history of the Roman Catholics in America.

Well, I just finished reading and taking the notes on Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. It is a slow read for such a short book (108 pages). Part of the reason why it took so long to read Witt’s work is that he writes in aphorisms (short and compact sentences). It is not something you can glance over, but something that demands a lot of time and attention. It was difficult reading this work because I know that Witt rejected a lot of the content in he later teachings and in the Philosophical Investigations. Yet I still found some interesting and useful ideas.
One idea is that everything must make some kind of consistent sense with everything else. In a church setting this is something that I think we neglect due to laziness. For example, we say it means something to be ordained, but we do not hold onto that meaning unless we find it helpful at the time. That is inconsistent. Or we say that we are called to a certain way of living as Christians, but we do not hold closely to that way of living. When we are inconsistent, we are projecting the true picture of Christianity that we ascribe to. Either we change the picture or we change our “grammar.” We need to be consistent. Witt broke down the parts to the bare examples, but I think we can apply his ideas to church life and beyond.
The other thing I (and other scholars) am interested in is Witt’s idea of the ethical. In 6.421 he claims that “ethics cannot be expressed. Ethics is transcendental” In 6.422 he states “ethics has nothing to do with punishment and reward in the ordinary action.” It seems like Witt is trying to connect with something greater than he can articulate. Why do people do good things? He then moves to the mythical, which he describes as inexpressible. I think this is a good description of God. Yet the problem arises when we still try to talk about God, knowing that we cannot talk about God. How can we talk about God when there is nothing we can say? In other writings, Witt claims that we are showing the nature of God when we talk about God. I wonder if this is true of all religious speech. When we claim that we are to love our enemies, are we showing the nature of God? When we claim that we go to church to praise God, what does that say about the nature of God, and our relationship with God. Finally, what would it mean if we claimed that all religious language falls short and only expresses the divine through a glass dimly? Then do we have any truth we can claim?
Are you lost yet?

Popular Baptists?

I just finished reading Roberto S. Goizueta’s Caminemos Con Jesus: Toward a Hispanic/Latino Theology of Accompaniment. It is a good work with a lot to glean. One of the points that Goizueta makes is the influence of popular Catholicism. The terms itself is interesting because it suggests that there is a different Catholicism then just “popular Catholicism” (PC). PC is what is practiced by the people, it is the rituals and customs that are particular to a group.
I wonder if there is a “Popular Baptists.” Actually, I fear that there is a “popular Baptists.” My impression is that the “popular Baptist” movement consists of a herd of people waving their arms in the air, voting the way that Dobson or Falwell suggests and loving the bible more than they love Jesus. I am a Baptist that believes in soul freedom, in dissent, in church autonomy, in the authority of scripture (but never over the authority of Christ) and so on and so on. I am probably not a “popular Baptist” for a lot of reasons. When I consider Goizueta’s idea of PC I wonder if I should stop calling myself a Baptist. It seems to me that PB have gone to far from the original, basic ideas of the Baptist movement, so either they have stopped being Baptist, or I can no longer be understood as a Baptist. The difference is that Goizueta’s PC still have a connection with the greater tradition of Catholicism. My gut feeling is that part of my role is to call the PB back to the greater tradition of the Baptist movement (which suggests that we do have a tradition). It is a cause that will no doubt end up in martyrdom, but what else do I have to do?

finishing my crazy rant of what I hope to do

Ok, lets try to finish my prospectus and then onto other thoughts. Baptist ordination – it does mean something, it is just that most Baptists haven’t done a good job articulating ordination. So here I am, with all of the answers (hardly). My theory is that Baptist theology is not something that we can particularly say but something that can be shown (see early Wittgenstein). The way Baptist act around the minister, talk about the minister and treat the minister shows the theology of ordination. What I aim to do (if I ever get to that point) is to look at one or two churches, and consider how they have treated the minister over time – always comparing with the “teachings of the tradition” – the manuals and writings of the time. This is really very cursory, but hopefully you get the idea. If not, leave a comment.
My hypothesis is that one changes in ordination via one’s relationship to the church/community. No longer is the individual just a member of the congregation, but is now a leader of the congregation. Yet there we still hold to the idea of Priesthood of the believers, so the change is not one of hierarchy. Instead it is of relationship. The minister now represents something greater, something more profound than him or her self. The Catholic idea of Sacramental Consciousness offers a good way to articulate this change. We just need to change the word from Sacrament to Sacred so people in the pews wont freak out.
That’s it. Make sense?