An appropriate quote, I think, for this blog:
"I bear in my life of faith today the drama of Israel, the fruit of the costly discussions of Nicaea and Chalcedon, what Francis of Assisi mined in the mysteries of evangelical poverty, what thousands of obscure believers have affirmed of the power of hope in their responses to persecutors. And our successors will, in their time, be enriched by what African and Latin American Christianities in their contexts are working out before our eyes. The communion of saints is not relegated to the register of merits or of prayer. It already involves the fundamental plan of faith."
-Jean-Marie Roger Tillard
Friday, September 28, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Inspiration (1)
It seems to me that the church and her theologians spend an inordinate amount of time these days on the doctrine of inspiration. The idea that Scripture is inspired has, in fact, taken first place in the confessional statements of many churches (and seminaries for that matter), particularly those churches of the non-denominational/evangelical/megachurch variety. I find this odd, given that a doctrine of inspiration is not even present in the historic creeds; they, rather, all address the nature of the God who was revealed in Christ. To be sure, the Fathers believed that the Scriptures were inspired, they just did not feel the need to logically define how that mysterious process took place. In general, pre-moderns are much more comfortable with mystery than moderns are.
I suspect that the doctrine of inspiration has been so elevated in recent times because it has come under so much fire from more liberal (in the original sense of the word) sects of the church and those outside the church who hold a priori (or without even arguing for it) that such a doctrine is impossible. Thus, the great dividing line - what makes one a Christian or not - is shifted from what one believes in Christ (the historic definition) to what one believes about the inspiration of the Scriptures.
In one sense, this shift may be appropriate because unless one believes that the Scriptures indeed come from God, then one will not believe in the truth of the things which are said in them, and thus the entire faith crumbles. But in another sense, this shift is entirely inappropriate for it entails the addition of a creedal component that was not agreed upon by the Fathers when the church was still one entity; and, therefore, a creedal component which all parts of the church cannot agree upon. (Again, the church has always believed in the inspiration of her Scriptures, but not in the manner that it is defined by certain sects.) Moreover, this shift gives the disastrous impression of elevating belief in the inspiration of Scripture as the most important aspect of our faith.
Friends, this is simply not the case, and if this is how you have been taught, then you have been taught a faith that, at least in this respect, is in no way consistent with Christianity as passed on from the apostles. The truth is that the most important aspect of our faith, the aspect which Jesus came to earth to witness to is who God is. And all the creeds agree that God is Trinity - Father, Son, Holy Spirit - and, as such, a relational God who desires relation with his creation and will one day restore that creation to himself. All other creedal points - including the inspiration and authority of Scripture - flow out of this point. And as far as I know, you and I can agree on who God is without being completely in agreement on the nature of the word which tells us this. If the Fathers felt no need to define the great mystery of inspiration, I see no reason why we should.
I suspect that the doctrine of inspiration has been so elevated in recent times because it has come under so much fire from more liberal (in the original sense of the word) sects of the church and those outside the church who hold a priori (or without even arguing for it) that such a doctrine is impossible. Thus, the great dividing line - what makes one a Christian or not - is shifted from what one believes in Christ (the historic definition) to what one believes about the inspiration of the Scriptures.
In one sense, this shift may be appropriate because unless one believes that the Scriptures indeed come from God, then one will not believe in the truth of the things which are said in them, and thus the entire faith crumbles. But in another sense, this shift is entirely inappropriate for it entails the addition of a creedal component that was not agreed upon by the Fathers when the church was still one entity; and, therefore, a creedal component which all parts of the church cannot agree upon. (Again, the church has always believed in the inspiration of her Scriptures, but not in the manner that it is defined by certain sects.) Moreover, this shift gives the disastrous impression of elevating belief in the inspiration of Scripture as the most important aspect of our faith.
Friends, this is simply not the case, and if this is how you have been taught, then you have been taught a faith that, at least in this respect, is in no way consistent with Christianity as passed on from the apostles. The truth is that the most important aspect of our faith, the aspect which Jesus came to earth to witness to is who God is. And all the creeds agree that God is Trinity - Father, Son, Holy Spirit - and, as such, a relational God who desires relation with his creation and will one day restore that creation to himself. All other creedal points - including the inspiration and authority of Scripture - flow out of this point. And as far as I know, you and I can agree on who God is without being completely in agreement on the nature of the word which tells us this. If the Fathers felt no need to define the great mystery of inspiration, I see no reason why we should.
Monday, September 17, 2007
The Communion of Saints - One Year Later
I am happy to announce to all of my readers that the Communion of Saints blogspot (hereafter CoS) has officially been in existence for a year today. I am carefully to add "blogspot" to the previous statement for I in no way want to imply that the Communion of Saints has been around for just a year. As I hope this blog has witnessed to, the Communion of Saints is a living communion that has existed since that original Pentecost nearly 2000 years ago. And according to Hebrews, our Fathers and Saints (that great cloud of witnesses) extends back into Israel's story, the communion of saints in potentia perhaps.
We have seen and, hopefully, experienced a bit of that communion here as I have tried to bring to the table pertinent topics for discussion and debate. I have also tried to represent significant voices from our past who we might not have been aware of, voices of the great Fathers like Irenaeus and Augustine. And we have heard from the living saints - you my readers, if there are any of you left. :) Of course, communion in cyber space is less than perfect for it is disembodied and the church, if anything is an embodied entity. Yet reading one another's thoughts and dialoging here can be a form of communion and can encourage us to seek out our local communities and foster embodied relationships there.
In honor of the passing of the year, I would like to offer you a few of my favorite posts from this past year. Enjoy! And as Babu Bhatt (of Seinfeld fame) said: "Tell your fliends!"
First Post: A Communion of Bloggers
Post which generated the most comments: Authentic Community
Most meaningless post: A Bit of Levity
Post with the biggest rant: Let's Leave THEM Behind
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The Experiment
In a previous blog, I related the classes that I will be taking this semester. The astute reader, and I know that you are all astute readers, will surely realize that the majority of my blogs this semester will have something to do with either Romans, Thomas Aquinas, or the church, as we tend to think about (and some of us) blog about the things that we are learning. There is one other area from which I will probably be crafting a lot, perhaps the majority, of my blogs. For this past Sunday a great experiment began.
Julie and I began teaching the senior high Sunday School class at our church, Trinity Pilgrim United Methodist Church. Some may call it an adventure (you never know what those kids are going to say), some may call it foolish (nothing short of three people approached me on Sunday to tell me that they had tried teaching the high schoolers and they had quit), but I prefer to call it an experiment. It is an experiment to see if the wonderful theological training I have received over the last five or six years actually "works" in church and, moreover, in the youth culture.
I am here reminded of a story that one of my seminary professors told me. Several years ago, there was an African tribe who had come to Christ through the ministry of a missionary from North America. After several years, there grew a desire that the tribe begin to lead themselves, and so they sent one of their promising young men to an American seminary in order to learn from the great minds about the bible so that he could then teach these truths to the tribe. After an absence of over four years, the tribe anxiously awaited the young man's return. When he did, they put him right into the pulpit to preach. But he was speechless. After standing there for a long time, the missionary pulled him aside and asked what the problem was. The young man said that he was not sure how to preach what he had learned to his tribe. How does "expiation" or "transubstantiation" translate? This man had to go through another course to relearn the Christian faith in his own language.
It strikes me that Julie and I are in a similar position here. We've spent the last few years learning a language and learning how to meaningfully discuss things in terms of that language. Specifically, I have spent the last few days in a quite interesting debate over the first few chapters of Romans. But this all means nothing in the context of senior highers. We, like the missionary, might be speechless in front of these kids. Unless we find a way to translate it into their language and their culture. And this is why I call it an experiment. I believe that our learning can be translated; it has to be, otherwise the academy has lost all touch with the church and has therefore become a useless entity. We have evidence that it has been translated through the years - this is why the Apostle Paul wrote in Greek (the language of the people) instead of Hebrew (the language of the faith). The question is, and the experiment will be, whether we can find the effective means to make that translation happen. If we can, then we have a chance of reaching these kids and impacting their lives with the truth of God's story. If we can't, then we might as well not waste their time - and I might as well start thinking of another profession.
We need your prayers in this experiment.
Julie and I began teaching the senior high Sunday School class at our church, Trinity Pilgrim United Methodist Church. Some may call it an adventure (you never know what those kids are going to say), some may call it foolish (nothing short of three people approached me on Sunday to tell me that they had tried teaching the high schoolers and they had quit), but I prefer to call it an experiment. It is an experiment to see if the wonderful theological training I have received over the last five or six years actually "works" in church and, moreover, in the youth culture.
I am here reminded of a story that one of my seminary professors told me. Several years ago, there was an African tribe who had come to Christ through the ministry of a missionary from North America. After several years, there grew a desire that the tribe begin to lead themselves, and so they sent one of their promising young men to an American seminary in order to learn from the great minds about the bible so that he could then teach these truths to the tribe. After an absence of over four years, the tribe anxiously awaited the young man's return. When he did, they put him right into the pulpit to preach. But he was speechless. After standing there for a long time, the missionary pulled him aside and asked what the problem was. The young man said that he was not sure how to preach what he had learned to his tribe. How does "expiation" or "transubstantiation" translate? This man had to go through another course to relearn the Christian faith in his own language.
It strikes me that Julie and I are in a similar position here. We've spent the last few years learning a language and learning how to meaningfully discuss things in terms of that language. Specifically, I have spent the last few days in a quite interesting debate over the first few chapters of Romans. But this all means nothing in the context of senior highers. We, like the missionary, might be speechless in front of these kids. Unless we find a way to translate it into their language and their culture. And this is why I call it an experiment. I believe that our learning can be translated; it has to be, otherwise the academy has lost all touch with the church and has therefore become a useless entity. We have evidence that it has been translated through the years - this is why the Apostle Paul wrote in Greek (the language of the people) instead of Hebrew (the language of the faith). The question is, and the experiment will be, whether we can find the effective means to make that translation happen. If we can, then we have a chance of reaching these kids and impacting their lives with the truth of God's story. If we can't, then we might as well not waste their time - and I might as well start thinking of another profession.
We need your prayers in this experiment.
Friday, September 07, 2007
God's Definition of 'Reward'
"Now this is our highest reward, that we should fully enjoy him, and that all who enjoy him should enjoy one another in him." -St. Augustine
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
An unorganized discourse on classes and Labor Day
I have one week under my belt and it looks to be a good, and quite busy, semester. I am taking three classes this semester, as opposed to two classes (which I took each of my first two semesters) and which is the standard thoroughfare for doctoral students. My reason for increasing my class load is twofold: 1) I received a scholarship for 18 credits this year, and any credit unused would simply go to waste; as I might not be awarded the same scholarship next year, it behooves me to use all of the credits; hence, 9 credits, or 3 classes, each semester; and 2) my lovely wife has assured me that she will in fact kill me if I do not hurry up and finish. Taking three classes each semester will mean that I will finish my coursework this year - and everyone involved will be happy. So, though it will be busy and, perhaps, a little insane at times, I am committed to it. Let's just hope they don't commit me when I am done.
My classes this year are as follows: 1) Romans, a biblical studies course taught by a first year professor. I took the course primarily because of this professor. He studied under Richard Hays, a Wesleyan biblical scholar at Duke, of whom I greatly admire his exegetical practice. As I have lamented in previous posts, modern biblical scholars, in my humble opinion, tend to spend their time carving up the text until it resembles a large pile of meaningless scraps and in no shape to be edifying to the church. My hope (and experience thus far) is that this class will not be like that or that if it is, I would have the strength and intelligence to stand for a different approach;
2) Ecclesiology (which is just a fancy way of saying "study of the church"), a systematics course on, you guessed it, the study of what the church is, how it functions, etc. This course is taught by a Catholic nun whose primary focus, in her work, is what is called ecumenism. This means the work of finding what is similar in different denominations and working toward greater unity in the entire church. She is on several national "church dialogues" including one between the Catholics and Lutherans and another between the Catholics and Orthodox. She is also on the editorial board of an ecumenical periodical which I love called Pro Ecclesia ('for the church'). I am probably most excited for this class, as I hope that the main thrust of my own work, once I attain my PhD, will be the working toward greater unity in the church;
and 3) The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, a historical course studying the life and work of Thomas Aquinas, a medieval Catholic monk and theologian whose theological thought has had, arguably, the most influence of any Catholic thinker in the life of the church. I have been told that if you are a history major than you will have to deal with Thomas Aquinas at some point. It is taught by a middle ages scholar who has already shown in subtle ways that she is brilliant (she spoke to a student in both Swedish and Norwegian on the first day). This class will be more of what I am used to, as it is a historical course; however, I am fairly weak in knowledge on the middle ages so it is going to be a challenge. It should improve my Latin skills, however, as she expects us to read his work in Latin. We'll see.
On an unrelated note, does anyone else feel that Labor Day comes at the worst possible time? Last Sunday, I went through the entire grieving process of acknowledging that summer was over (Julie said to me: "See you at Christmas.") and that going back to class and getting back into the swing of things was in fact a good thing. This was very difficult, yet somehow I managed to do it, and by the end of the week and all of my classes, was starting to feel excited once again. And then all of the sudden, you are hit with this three day weekend, this mirage in the desert, summer's last, dying gasp. And you enjoy it! You love it! It makes you feel once again like you have no worries. But lo and behold Monday evening roles around and you are right back to where you started a week ago, trying to convince yourself that it is a good thing to be back. It is a little unfair - might have liked a three day weekend more at the beginning of October. But since when have students had any say?
My classes this year are as follows: 1) Romans, a biblical studies course taught by a first year professor. I took the course primarily because of this professor. He studied under Richard Hays, a Wesleyan biblical scholar at Duke, of whom I greatly admire his exegetical practice. As I have lamented in previous posts, modern biblical scholars, in my humble opinion, tend to spend their time carving up the text until it resembles a large pile of meaningless scraps and in no shape to be edifying to the church. My hope (and experience thus far) is that this class will not be like that or that if it is, I would have the strength and intelligence to stand for a different approach;
2) Ecclesiology (which is just a fancy way of saying "study of the church"), a systematics course on, you guessed it, the study of what the church is, how it functions, etc. This course is taught by a Catholic nun whose primary focus, in her work, is what is called ecumenism. This means the work of finding what is similar in different denominations and working toward greater unity in the entire church. She is on several national "church dialogues" including one between the Catholics and Lutherans and another between the Catholics and Orthodox. She is also on the editorial board of an ecumenical periodical which I love called Pro Ecclesia ('for the church'). I am probably most excited for this class, as I hope that the main thrust of my own work, once I attain my PhD, will be the working toward greater unity in the church;
and 3) The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, a historical course studying the life and work of Thomas Aquinas, a medieval Catholic monk and theologian whose theological thought has had, arguably, the most influence of any Catholic thinker in the life of the church. I have been told that if you are a history major than you will have to deal with Thomas Aquinas at some point. It is taught by a middle ages scholar who has already shown in subtle ways that she is brilliant (she spoke to a student in both Swedish and Norwegian on the first day). This class will be more of what I am used to, as it is a historical course; however, I am fairly weak in knowledge on the middle ages so it is going to be a challenge. It should improve my Latin skills, however, as she expects us to read his work in Latin. We'll see.
On an unrelated note, does anyone else feel that Labor Day comes at the worst possible time? Last Sunday, I went through the entire grieving process of acknowledging that summer was over (Julie said to me: "See you at Christmas.") and that going back to class and getting back into the swing of things was in fact a good thing. This was very difficult, yet somehow I managed to do it, and by the end of the week and all of my classes, was starting to feel excited once again. And then all of the sudden, you are hit with this three day weekend, this mirage in the desert, summer's last, dying gasp. And you enjoy it! You love it! It makes you feel once again like you have no worries. But lo and behold Monday evening roles around and you are right back to where you started a week ago, trying to convince yourself that it is a good thing to be back. It is a little unfair - might have liked a three day weekend more at the beginning of October. But since when have students had any say?
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