Yesterday I finished reading Placher, The Domestication of Transcendence: How Modern Thinking about God went wrong and began reading Gavrilyuk, The Suffering of the Impassible God: The Dialectics of Patristic Thought. This brief reflection stems from my trying to connect the end of the former and the beginning of the latter.
I was quite taken by Placher's description of "how modern thinking about God went wrong," perhaps because he is right, or because I was already pretty sure that modern thinking about God has, as a whole, gone wrong, and Placher gave an articulate, logical argument from Aquinas, Luther, Calvin, and a handful of modern thinkers that I know even less well than these medieval and Reformation theologians. One of my strongest hopes is that, as I continue reading Thomas, I will still be convinced of Placher's (minority) reading of him: that Thomas's rigorous logical arguments took place within the context of his denial that humans can, in our current state, understand how the claims that we make about God are true. We know what "good" is, and we, by faith, claim "God is good", but we do not fully understand what we mean when we say this. God's goodness is beyond all created goodness, not in the sense of having the greatest amount of goodness but of goodness on a different plain. God is still good--this is a true statement--but we know it to be true only by faith. This is the most important thing I learned from Placher, and I hope that he is right that this is what Thomas meant.
In the last two chapters of the book, Placher moves into suggestions for contemporary retrieval. In this process, he discusses biblical narratives as mode of revelation in a section worth quoting at length:
To say that the biblical narratives constitute revelation, then, is to say (1) that they claim to be defining of all reality, and (2) that their internal sense of things is in turn defined by the identity of the character they call "God," about whom they claim to provide trustworthy language to use, even as the divine nature remains utterly mysterious. If God's identity has this defining role in the stories, and the stories claim a defining role for all things, then to read these stories is to be addressed by a claim on one's life from this God. This is how things are, they say; this is the context in which your life, or anyone's life, has whatever meaning it possesses--in the context shaped by the character called "God" whose identity is herein narrated and who is the transcendent, sustaining beginning and end of all things. Scripture constitutes revelation from a subject both because it presents God as an agent acting in its stories and [...] because the personal agency of the Holy Spirit shapes our acceptance of them. To accept scripture as revelation of God, however, is not to think that we have grasped the divine nature, but to trust that, in ways we cannot understand, we will be speaking rightly of God if we tell the stories these texts recount and cautiously note, in creed and theology, some of the character traits we perceive of this God, without ever letting the results of such reflection take the primary place of the stories themselves (189).
I'll make a really shocking move here and say that his points would be better served if he actually read some texts and demonstrated how this is true. I think, in the process, he would find not only that there are a variety of genres that might confuse exclusive reference to "narrative" (which he recognizes but concludes that narrative seems to be the one form of writing that can, in a way, absorb the others), but also that a challenge of not "domesticating the transcendent" in modern exegesis is that the character Yahweh really does walk around and talk and act like one character among many in the narrative. While statements like "Yahweh is good" appear in scripture on the level of derivation from claims like "Yahweh brought us out of the land of Egypt, the house of slavery," Placher seems to leave our knowledge of the latter without qualification. He asks that we cannot trust that we know the divine nature fully from this act, but he doesn't seem to say that we don't really know even how it is that Yahweh acts in this instance. What do we imagine when we read, "God sent Moses to Pharoah"? Do we not imagine something similar to when a mother sends a child to the neighbor with a message? It seems that we shouldn't, if we want to avoid presuming that God acts as one agent among many. But how do we avoid such reduction in our reading of "God sent Moses to Pharoah," and does "narrative as revelation" finally help us accomplish this?
In biblical theology, widespread observation that Yahweh moves and acts like an agent among many is often contrasted with the so-called "Greek" understand of God as immutable or impassible. As Gavrilyuk rightly notes in his Introduction, this has led modern scholars to denounce the immutable God "of Greek philosophy" in the name of the impassioned Yahweh who loves, repents (nahams), and becomes angry. Gavrilyuk suggests that the binary of biblical-God-who-is-passionate vs. Greek-static-God is not true to the church fathers, who believed that divine impassibility was consonant with biblical narratives. Moreover, Placher would suggestion that this modern contrast is inconsistent with how pre-seventeenth century theologians viewed theological language. In Placher's terms, I might suggest that it is precisely at the point of divine impassibility that the church fathers were the most clear: the word "impassibly" in "God suffers impassibly" functions precisely to say that what we declare to be true of God is not true by way of a comprehensible analogy to other things. "God suffers, but God does not suffer as we do" seems very similar to "God is good, but we do not now understand what 'good' means with respect to God." If I'm right that these statements are extremely similar, then an appropriate question is, "Why did the church insist upon being so precisely clear on this point rather than another point?" To that question, I don't yet have an answer.
I was going to write more here, but I'm beat! It's been far too long since I've written thoughts that aren't meant to be lecture notes or grading comments.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Classes--background
I've decided to resuscitate the old blog, and it's been suggested that I try posting about my various experiments in teaching this semester. As I'm now teaching my fourth and fifth classes, I've accepted my strengths and weaknesses at the job and am not too embarrassed to admit what goes well and what doesn't.
As an introductory post, I should give some background about my two courses this semester. I'm teaching an upper-level Bible class called "Jesus and the Gospels," which is populated by 44 sophomores, juniors, and seniors of a variety of majors, including a handful of Bible majors. I have one student in this course who is doing an additional credit hour of independent study research... on the Gospel of Thomas, about which I know absolutely nothing, as I told him. The course is a combination of Bible and theology; we're studying the gospels and also their reception history. My second course is an upper-level philosophy course in ethics. I have thirteen bright students in this class, and a few of them are exceptionally brilliant. Moral philosophy is not my field, and I'm not always sure what I have to teach them.
In the former course, I'm trying to learn how to lecture in a way that is memorable and meaningful to students. In the latter, I'm trying to learn how to facilitate discussion that engages everyone and that allows the students to help me supply course content, because I know they can.
An opening comment about what didn't work: near the beginning of the semester, I tried to emphasize to my students in Jesus and the Gospels that the "Gospel" is the one, good news of Jesus Christ, and that Matthew, Mark, Luke and John are all accounts of the Gospel. Thus, I have tried to prefer "the Gospel According to Luke" to "the gospel of Luke" or even "Luke's gospel." This is exceptionally tricky to be consistent about. My hope for them is that they will appreciate the diversity in these accounts but not feel a need to choose between them or to be overly specific about harmonizing them, so I want to stress their unity. Perhaps I need to relax and hope that my students will know, if I say "Luke's gospel," that there is a lowercase "g"; I don't know.
As an introductory post, I should give some background about my two courses this semester. I'm teaching an upper-level Bible class called "Jesus and the Gospels," which is populated by 44 sophomores, juniors, and seniors of a variety of majors, including a handful of Bible majors. I have one student in this course who is doing an additional credit hour of independent study research... on the Gospel of Thomas, about which I know absolutely nothing, as I told him. The course is a combination of Bible and theology; we're studying the gospels and also their reception history. My second course is an upper-level philosophy course in ethics. I have thirteen bright students in this class, and a few of them are exceptionally brilliant. Moral philosophy is not my field, and I'm not always sure what I have to teach them.
In the former course, I'm trying to learn how to lecture in a way that is memorable and meaningful to students. In the latter, I'm trying to learn how to facilitate discussion that engages everyone and that allows the students to help me supply course content, because I know they can.
An opening comment about what didn't work: near the beginning of the semester, I tried to emphasize to my students in Jesus and the Gospels that the "Gospel" is the one, good news of Jesus Christ, and that Matthew, Mark, Luke and John are all accounts of the Gospel. Thus, I have tried to prefer "the Gospel According to Luke" to "the gospel of Luke" or even "Luke's gospel." This is exceptionally tricky to be consistent about. My hope for them is that they will appreciate the diversity in these accounts but not feel a need to choose between them or to be overly specific about harmonizing them, so I want to stress their unity. Perhaps I need to relax and hope that my students will know, if I say "Luke's gospel," that there is a lowercase "g"; I don't know.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
just like riding a bike
I awoke on Thursday to 43 degrees, cloudy but lovely and rode to Goshen for class without much difficulty, despite some considerable headwind. (Why does it always feel like there's headwind both ways?) What a relief to find that bicycle commuting is an extremely reasonable activity. Also, the Millrace path provided me with the company of a large flock of ducks for the final two miles of my ride.
story, prophecy, and discernment
I'm reading Prophecy and Discernment, by RWL Moberly. The book begins with a revealing of modern tendencies to believe that prophecy is the expression of a subjective reality whose truth it is impossible to discern. Moberly then constructs an argument on Jeremiah, John, and Paul, that discernment requires transformation on the part of the one discerning as well as on the part of the prophet, and that words from God necessarily include a call to justice-and-righteousness/love, and that the coming of Christ is definitive for this process of transformation.
A question arising within the Institute of Mennonite Studies at AMBS (where I am a "student assistant" who takes minutes, sends book orders, and performs other blah tasks), is, how can we decide which stories will influence us, which stories we will tell and re-tell? Moberly is right that the biblical material casts the question in terms of speech on behalf of God (prophecy) and discernment between those who speak truly on behalf of God, and those who speak falsely on behalf of God.
Perhaps my first question about these "stories" is what we presume their function to be. I am afraid that we understand human stories as things which must be weighed against claims of scripture or other theoogical claims. In Christ, God became flesh, and therefore, we must mediate between, integrate, or at least stand in the tension between various theological claims and the claims of our friends and neighbors. We reinterpret traditional theological statements and canonical texts on the basis of our friends' stories. The stories we tell and retell are stories that either affirm, in some sort of exemplary way, claims of scripture, perhaps claims that our own stories do not affirm, or they challenge our previous understanding or canon in some particular way that is transformative for us. Either way, stories are seen as valid in and of themselves (there are no false stories), and whether or not we tell and re-tell them is based on personal preference or usefulness.
Finally, I'm not convinced that the decision-making process I described above, which depended on a particular description of the theological function of "stories," can be considered "discernment." It doesn't adjudicate between stories, so much Discernment requires that we identify stories as more or less true and false, where "true" and "false" are defined according to being of God or not of God. The Christian criteria for determining whether or not and how they are true or false are still scripture, still theological and ethical.
Alternatively, stories may be conceived as the relationship between our lives and the biblical text. God is doing something in the world, and we know what this is by story; what God has done in scripture, God continues to do in particular communities which are formed and sustained according to a particular history and particular experiences. If conceived this way, stories are discerned according to membership; if one is a member of a community, then his or her story is valid, and vice versa (if his/her story is valid, then one may be a member of a community). Only our community is able to fully know us, to weigh the theological and ethical content or our stories according to scripture. Does story, so defined, allow us to engage in discernment? Does membership provide the appropriate context for discernment, or does it make discernment a surface formality, lacking the substance that membership has monopolized?
A question arising within the Institute of Mennonite Studies at AMBS (where I am a "student assistant" who takes minutes, sends book orders, and performs other blah tasks), is, how can we decide which stories will influence us, which stories we will tell and re-tell? Moberly is right that the biblical material casts the question in terms of speech on behalf of God (prophecy) and discernment between those who speak truly on behalf of God, and those who speak falsely on behalf of God.
Perhaps my first question about these "stories" is what we presume their function to be. I am afraid that we understand human stories as things which must be weighed against claims of scripture or other theoogical claims. In Christ, God became flesh, and therefore, we must mediate between, integrate, or at least stand in the tension between various theological claims and the claims of our friends and neighbors. We reinterpret traditional theological statements and canonical texts on the basis of our friends' stories. The stories we tell and retell are stories that either affirm, in some sort of exemplary way, claims of scripture, perhaps claims that our own stories do not affirm, or they challenge our previous understanding or canon in some particular way that is transformative for us. Either way, stories are seen as valid in and of themselves (there are no false stories), and whether or not we tell and re-tell them is based on personal preference or usefulness.
Finally, I'm not convinced that the decision-making process I described above, which depended on a particular description of the theological function of "stories," can be considered "discernment." It doesn't adjudicate between stories, so much Discernment requires that we identify stories as more or less true and false, where "true" and "false" are defined according to being of God or not of God. The Christian criteria for determining whether or not and how they are true or false are still scripture, still theological and ethical.
Alternatively, stories may be conceived as the relationship between our lives and the biblical text. God is doing something in the world, and we know what this is by story; what God has done in scripture, God continues to do in particular communities which are formed and sustained according to a particular history and particular experiences. If conceived this way, stories are discerned according to membership; if one is a member of a community, then his or her story is valid, and vice versa (if his/her story is valid, then one may be a member of a community). Only our community is able to fully know us, to weigh the theological and ethical content or our stories according to scripture. Does story, so defined, allow us to engage in discernment? Does membership provide the appropriate context for discernment, or does it make discernment a surface formality, lacking the substance that membership has monopolized?
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
bicycle commuting
The snow has melted and the days are getting longer. Tonight may be the eve of the first bicycle-commute of the season between Elkhart and Goshen, IN. In the fall, teaching one day a week in Goshen, I made it riding until mid-November. Now it is time to start again. The thought is mostly exciting; slow afternoon rides after class under the warm sun and in the cool breeze... but until I'm thoroughly in some sort of routine, my being revolts such shifts. Will I ride down in the morning and back in the afternoon on my first day? Should I take the trolley with my bike in the morning and ride back when it's warmer and the wind is at my back? Will a friend need to borrow my car in the afternoon, and if so, should I ride down and spend the evening in Goshen and watch The Office before driving back to... I hate hate hate lack of routine.
I'm also a little nervous that the ride might be tougher than I remember. It's only ten miles, but at 32 degrees with a decent headwind, it sure can feel longer. A year ago, when there were ten extra pounds of me in the world, I recall the ride taking an awful long time. There was a 15-20 mph headwind that day as well. It absolutely must feel better this time...
I'm also a little nervous that the ride might be tougher than I remember. It's only ten miles, but at 32 degrees with a decent headwind, it sure can feel longer. A year ago, when there were ten extra pounds of me in the world, I recall the ride taking an awful long time. There was a 15-20 mph headwind that day as well. It absolutely must feel better this time...
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
settling in discipline
A few factors this spring have caused me to settle a bit, regarding an over-arching question of theological discipline that has occupied my mind for the last year: am I a theologian or a biblical scholar? The tricky part of the question is that the answer is simply, "yes." Of course I am both. Unfortunately, I have felt the need to choose one, for the purposes of further graduate study as well as future employment. Ideally, I would not have to choose, but realistically...
Well, I haven't chosen, not between biblical studies and theology as distinct but related fields of research and knowledge. However, lately I have been settling into the idea of a particular discipline--not a field of research and knowledge, but a very simple task: reading the Bible. There are reasons for this:
1. My Students. When I committed to teaching peace studies at Goshen College this year, I knew that it would be good for me, in a this-will-look-good-on-a-resume, and a I-should-get-teaching-experience, sort of way. What I have discovered is that my students challenge me in more ways than I could have imagined. One significant challenge they pose is the zeitgeist phenomenon of what I like to call "biblical illiteracy." By "biblical illiteracy," I do not mean that students do not know passages of scripture, or that they are unable to read the text in original languages. I mean that students don't know what texts mean, once they do read them. They have no sense for how texts fit together, where they overlap, how they are disconnected. They don't understand the significance of texts for faith. They read the words, but they don't understand them. Case in point: We are talking about Isa 11, the lion lying down with the lamb, in explicit eschatological perspective. A student interjects, "But the lion can't lie down with the lamb. The lion will eat the lamb, and if it doesn't eat the lamb, then it will starve." The student read the words of the text, but had no idea what they meant, or to what they referred--biblical illiteracy. My students are the products of this--my own--generation. If they are biblically illiterate... than it is the challenge of theology now and for the text 10 years at least to be disciplined by the reading of biblical texts.
2. The Bible, Theology, and Faith, by RWL Moberly. This year, I have read this, which might be the best book I have ever read. Moberly writes a profound and persuasive defense of theological exegesis, if by "defense" I can mean a defense by example rather than a pure apology or explanation. The brillance of his work is that his theological and ethical remarks are so wonderfully disciplined by careful reading of scripture. It is beautiful, brilliant, and attractive. He moves between Emmaus, the adekah, and Jesus as the Son of God in Matthew's Gospel with ease as well as depth of insight. I don't want to do a formal book review here, but only to say that I was smitten, and convinced that what makes this work so immensely valuable is its careful attention to the details of the biblical texts. If I am going to be a good scholar, I need this sort of discipline.
Well, I haven't chosen, not between biblical studies and theology as distinct but related fields of research and knowledge. However, lately I have been settling into the idea of a particular discipline--not a field of research and knowledge, but a very simple task: reading the Bible. There are reasons for this:
1. My Students. When I committed to teaching peace studies at Goshen College this year, I knew that it would be good for me, in a this-will-look-good-on-a-resume, and a I-should-get-teaching-experience, sort of way. What I have discovered is that my students challenge me in more ways than I could have imagined. One significant challenge they pose is the zeitgeist phenomenon of what I like to call "biblical illiteracy." By "biblical illiteracy," I do not mean that students do not know passages of scripture, or that they are unable to read the text in original languages. I mean that students don't know what texts mean, once they do read them. They have no sense for how texts fit together, where they overlap, how they are disconnected. They don't understand the significance of texts for faith. They read the words, but they don't understand them. Case in point: We are talking about Isa 11, the lion lying down with the lamb, in explicit eschatological perspective. A student interjects, "But the lion can't lie down with the lamb. The lion will eat the lamb, and if it doesn't eat the lamb, then it will starve." The student read the words of the text, but had no idea what they meant, or to what they referred--biblical illiteracy. My students are the products of this--my own--generation. If they are biblically illiterate... than it is the challenge of theology now and for the text 10 years at least to be disciplined by the reading of biblical texts.
2. The Bible, Theology, and Faith, by RWL Moberly. This year, I have read this, which might be the best book I have ever read. Moberly writes a profound and persuasive defense of theological exegesis, if by "defense" I can mean a defense by example rather than a pure apology or explanation. The brillance of his work is that his theological and ethical remarks are so wonderfully disciplined by careful reading of scripture. It is beautiful, brilliant, and attractive. He moves between Emmaus, the adekah, and Jesus as the Son of God in Matthew's Gospel with ease as well as depth of insight. I don't want to do a formal book review here, but only to say that I was smitten, and convinced that what makes this work so immensely valuable is its careful attention to the details of the biblical texts. If I am going to be a good scholar, I need this sort of discipline.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
PhD Programs, part II: The Short List
Today's agenda: a short list--a draft, anyway--of schools I will consider applying to.
UVA: Friends have told me of their consideration of UVA, so I've moved it out of the "definitely not" category. I am somewhat drawn to their Judaism and Christianity in Antiquity option, because I could combine interests in Scripture with Patristics, but it doesn't appear to be a very theologically-centered program. The website description of the "historical theology" option is extremely brief and lame, which is both disappointing and curious. I want to be doing historical theology, even if I would choose to focus on Judaism and Christianity in Antiquity--is such an approach possible (or to what degree is it encouraged)? For the Theology, Ethics, and Culture option, none of these quite fit what I'd be interested in doing, I don't think... except for maybe the "religious, theological, and philosophical"... how interested am I in the history of "culture and thought"? I am more interested in the relationship between Scripture and theological tradition through the ages than in the relationship between theological tradition and culture or philosophy through the ages... if those are distinct... The examination process appears more extensive than I would expect.
Fordham: The next school on the Council for Graduate Schools in Religion list. Reno writes that Jesuit schools are stuck in the 1970s, but if there's a feminist theologian anywhere in the world that I would be interested in taking a course from, it's got to be Elizabeth Johnson. I'm also encouraged that there is opportunity to cross-enroll at other NYC schools, including St. Vladimir's. I'm impressed with the number of young-looking people on faculty. Are things changing here? Michael Lee, Judith Kubicki, George Demacopoulos, and Harry Nasuti all intrigue me, for very different reasons. (Where is Brian Daley?)
Catholic University of America: On Reno's list, but not on the Council list. The website is lacking, and I'm not particularly intrigued. At the moment, it's not making the short list.
McGill: too small.
Southern Methodist University: has their share of folks doing "biblical theology." Charles Wood (systematics), Richard Nelson (OT hermeneutics), and Bruce Marshall (historical) might interest me. But--eek!--who wants to live in Dallas?
Marquette: Falls under Reno's critique of Jesuit schools. William Kurz and Rodrigo Morales are interesting theological hermeneutics and biblical theology folks. Michel Barnes and Mickey Mattox look interesting on the historical end (Mattox is a Luther scholar interested in exegesis?). Wanda Zemler-Cizewski is also interested in medieval exegesis. How exciting! The protestant research interests of faculty in historical theology appeal to whatever principles make me nervous about ND, and Lutheran-Catholic dialogue appears strong there. Systematics: D. Stephen Long, Del Colle, Susan Wood... and WI is very eco-friendly. Ladies and gentlemen, we might have a winner.
Vanderbilt: No historical folks.
It is now time for the drum roll....
And The Short List North America goes to:
Marquette
Princeton Seminary
Toronto
Notre Dame
UVA
Trinity Evangelical Divinity School
Southern Methodist
Fordham
The list is a bit longer than I intended, but I'll consider the Mission accomplished. Marquette is a surprising, and very exciting, thought, and that alone makes the day a success.
UVA: Friends have told me of their consideration of UVA, so I've moved it out of the "definitely not" category. I am somewhat drawn to their Judaism and Christianity in Antiquity option, because I could combine interests in Scripture with Patristics, but it doesn't appear to be a very theologically-centered program. The website description of the "historical theology" option is extremely brief and lame, which is both disappointing and curious. I want to be doing historical theology, even if I would choose to focus on Judaism and Christianity in Antiquity--is such an approach possible (or to what degree is it encouraged)? For the Theology, Ethics, and Culture option, none of these quite fit what I'd be interested in doing, I don't think... except for maybe the "religious, theological, and philosophical"... how interested am I in the history of "culture and thought"? I am more interested in the relationship between Scripture and theological tradition through the ages than in the relationship between theological tradition and culture or philosophy through the ages... if those are distinct... The examination process appears more extensive than I would expect.
Fordham: The next school on the Council for Graduate Schools in Religion list. Reno writes that Jesuit schools are stuck in the 1970s, but if there's a feminist theologian anywhere in the world that I would be interested in taking a course from, it's got to be Elizabeth Johnson. I'm also encouraged that there is opportunity to cross-enroll at other NYC schools, including St. Vladimir's. I'm impressed with the number of young-looking people on faculty. Are things changing here? Michael Lee, Judith Kubicki, George Demacopoulos, and Harry Nasuti all intrigue me, for very different reasons. (Where is Brian Daley?)
Catholic University of America: On Reno's list, but not on the Council list. The website is lacking, and I'm not particularly intrigued. At the moment, it's not making the short list.
McGill: too small.
Southern Methodist University: has their share of folks doing "biblical theology." Charles Wood (systematics), Richard Nelson (OT hermeneutics), and Bruce Marshall (historical) might interest me. But--eek!--who wants to live in Dallas?
Marquette: Falls under Reno's critique of Jesuit schools. William Kurz and Rodrigo Morales are interesting theological hermeneutics and biblical theology folks. Michel Barnes and Mickey Mattox look interesting on the historical end (Mattox is a Luther scholar interested in exegesis?). Wanda Zemler-Cizewski is also interested in medieval exegesis. How exciting! The protestant research interests of faculty in historical theology appeal to whatever principles make me nervous about ND, and Lutheran-Catholic dialogue appears strong there. Systematics: D. Stephen Long, Del Colle, Susan Wood... and WI is very eco-friendly. Ladies and gentlemen, we might have a winner.
Vanderbilt: No historical folks.
It is now time for the drum roll....
And The Short List North America goes to:
Marquette
Princeton Seminary
Toronto
Notre Dame
UVA
Trinity Evangelical Divinity School
Southern Methodist
Fordham
The list is a bit longer than I intended, but I'll consider the Mission accomplished. Marquette is a surprising, and very exciting, thought, and that alone makes the day a success.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
