(Ir)religiosity

If I had to pick one point where Jürgen Moltmann has made the most significant impact on my own theology it would be his social doctrine of the Trinity.¹  In fact, it wasn’t until I read The Trinity and the Kingdom of God that I was actually excited about being Trinitarian!  Moltmann is not interested in the old heresies and old debates surrounding substance, or essence, or autonomous personhood.  Instead he is interested debunking monarchical monotheism, which inscribes domination and hierarchy into the very nature of God (not to mention humanity!) where God the Father — and here nobody would have a problem with the masculine, phallocentric language — sits at the top of the order, below him sits the Son, and last (and more often than not least!) sits the Spirit — because by this logic it only makes sense that the more feminine of the persons be at the bottom of the hierarchy!  Moltmann claims that all Trinitarian formulations at least since Augustine and surely since the insertion of the filioque into the Nicene Creed by the West are captive to this type of monarchical monotheism.

Obviously this creates all sorts of problems, especially if you believe that the human order should, more or less, mirror the divine order.  Then you have domination and subjugation writ large.  Enter Moltmann who, as we can already see, is more interested in the social and political implications — in other words, what all this means for the Imago dei — of the Trinity than modalism, Arianism, or any other ancient -ism that really has no bearing on contemporary theology.

Over against the hierarchical models, Moltmann imagines² a more egalitarian approach (I don’t know that he uses that word himself and I don’t know if he would take issue with it; I certainly don’t) which emphasizes the “community of God” that is comprised of the three persons and the perichoresis, the mutual indwelling, that binds them together as one.  For Moltmann, kenosis is not limited to the second person and the incarnation alone, indeed it is such kenotic love that holds the Trinity together, each person giving and emptying itself for the sake of the other.  In this relationship the identity of each person is inextricably linked to each of the other persons and through that bond each person sees the other as part of the Other and in the process sees itself as (an)other.³

In Moltmann’s larger theology this has deep political and social implications.  If the divine hierarchy is deconstructed then the human hierarchy must be too, and a radically new community — an order steeped with kenotic love and perichoretic unity that jettisons any form of domination — replaces it.  To be created in the image of God is to be a relational being, a mirror image of members of the the divine community.

You probably already see where this is going.  My question is what might happen if we not only took Moltmann’s social doctrine of the Trinity seriously but let it infiltrate our eccelsiology as well. What would happen if our ecclesial structures and our relationships with one another in the community we call the church were guided not by hierarchy and power but self-emptying, kenotic love and perchoretic egalitarianism?  What if we reversed the polarities of the order of power in the church and not only upheld our responsibility to the other but saw ourselves as (an)other too and deeply dependent upon the embodied connection between our subjectivity and the other’s subjectivity?  Is that not what Moltmann was getting at in his book title — “The Trinity and the Kingdom” — where the church doesn’t mirror the power structures and regimes of domination that rule this world but the very community of God in which persons are persons only in self-emptying relationship with other persons?  Is it just me or is it hard, if not impossible, to do that when the church is beholden to uneven power dynamics?

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• The relational Image of God: embracing the other (blakehuggins.com)

1. His argument in The Crucified God apropos to God’s suffering is a very close second, but I’m not sure Moltmann goes far enough.  The suffering, abandoned God in Christ on the Cross would be much more salient and radical if Moltmann let go of omnipotence, but he wants to hold on to it.  I think we have to let go of that idea.  Not to mention the residual theodicy issues that are still very much at work under the surface.  I may take this up later at some point. [↩]
2. This is really is nothing new.  Eastern Orthodoxy has always held this view and it dates back to at least the Cappadocian Fathers.  I think it is fair to say, though, that Moltmann certainly popularized it, especially in the Western tradition, and extrapolated its political and social effects a bit further. [↩]
3. Ok, Moltmann doesn’t exactly use this sort of postmodern accent, but I can’t help it.  I hear when I read him — especially on the Trinity. [↩]

I think the best way for me to reflect on the Moltmann Conversation will be in a series of posts on a few key thoughts that were brought up over the course of the conference and have stuck with me.  Before going I figured I would just post my notes but I can’t do that because, well, I don’t really have any “normal” notes.  I wasn’t really able to take notes like I normally do because the conference was, more or less, a sound byte conference, which would be interesting to talk about in itself.  Free wifi was provided so just about everyone was either tweeting or liveblogging.  A screen was up behind the stage displaying some of the #moltmann tweets.  Then there wast the twub.  So the whole time I was trying to listen to the questions, listen to Moltmann’s answers (many of which were gems and very tweet-able), watch the Twub, watch the screen and tweet.  So in a sense my tweets ended up being my notes.  Weird, I know.  But that’s how it worked out.

During the first session Moltmann spoke to his own life experience (something he develops on a large scale in his autobiography, a book you should really read if you get a chance) and I was immediately struck by the notion of theology as biography.  His personal experiences as a POW and instances of deep tragedy and suffering led him to questions similar to those of Christ on cross:  where is God in the face of death and suffering?  In many ways, these experiences send Moltmann on theological trajectories that determine the bulk of his life’s work.  A Theology of Hope and The Crucified God are two of the most prominent examples.  The former views the whole of theology from an eschatological perpsective in which the church looks with hope to the future while standing firmly in the confidence of the resurrection and eagerly anticipating the incoming of God’s promise of a new heaven and a new earth; the latter is, of course, the other side of this hope: the cross of Christ through which God enters into the suffering of the world and identifies with the victim not as the stoic deity of Greek philosophy who is disaffected by the cries of the oppressed, but the God of the Hebrew scriptures, the God of pathos who is capable of deep suffering and likewise capable of deep love.  It is in this way that Moltmann re-frames the theodicy question, not as something to be answered — because as he stated at the conference “no answer will satisfy us” — but something to be wrestled with; indeed as something to be wrestled with together with God.¹

The theological particulars of each of these are interesting in their own right, but for me, after hearing Moltmann tell his story, the fact that both emerged from his personal experiences and his desire to develop a theology “after Auschwitz” cannot be overstated.  His is a perfect example of theology as biography and biography as the working out of theology.  Of course this happens both individually and collectively.  In that vein I appreciated Tripp Fuller (who I was finally able to meet in person!) raising the question in the panel of how 9/11 has effected the biography of younger (and even older) Americans in the same way WWII did for Moltmann’s.  At this point I think it may be too early to tell exactly how theology in the 21st century will take shape in the aftermath of that event.  But I think Moltmann provides us with a good model. I think we will be and are presently asking some of the same questions he did in response to suffering and tragedy.  And I think the way in which he poses those questions and attempts to re-frame them may be helpful too.

But the larger point for me is still theology as biography and biography as the incarnational outworking of theology.  And the more I think about the more I realize that is always our “background music” whether we realize it or not.  Perhaps our becoming conscious of it will make us better theologians.

1. Here I will resist the temptation to put Moltmann in conversation with John Caputo’s “weak God.” [↩]

This time tomorrow I’ll be in Chicago for the much anticipated Moltmann Conversation.  I’m pretty stoked.  Not only will I get to see one of the world’s foremost living theologians, I’ll also get to finally meet some really cool people I’ve been following online for a while now (wow, that sounded really stalkerish).

I doubt that I will liveblog much, unless I change my mind.  Tweeting should be much easier and I’d rather contribute to the larger conversation that will be going on the Twub, rather than make up my own.  That being said, if you follow me on Facebook it will be easier to keep up with everything if you follow me on Twitter.  I’m not going to feed all my tweets into Facebook because I don’t want to spam a bunch of people.  I’ll double up on some things but not all.  If you follow me on Twitter and aren’t interested in any of this, well, I apologize.

To make things super easy, I’ve embedded the Twub below so you can keep up with everything that is going on from here if you like.

Hopefully sometime over the weekend, or maybe early one next week, I’ll post my final thoughts on the whole experience.

I feel somewhat obligated to comment on the the latest “death of emergent” meme looping its way around the blogosphere. If you know what I’m talking about, you’re probably tried of hearing and talking about it — if you don’t, Tony has the most comprehensive link list I’ve seen. Just be sure you check out the post (and the comments) by Nick Fiedler that started it all, whether he wanted it too or not: “The Great Disappointment (A Post About Emergent). To be fair, Nick has further clarified his feeling in a later post, and perhaps best in a video chat with Zach Lind.

I’ve read/listened to all of these posts and commented on most of them, floating my thought on the whole thing. But after reading and commenting and re-reading and getting too upset and deleting comments I had typed up and ready to submit, I think I’m ready to publicly reflect.

I’ve expressed some of my own “disappointment” (as I originally called it) in some of my comments, but for different reasons. I said more than once and in a few different ways, that I’d like for the movement at large to move past a rejection of traditional Christianity and on to a different stage of the conversation. In other words, I’d like for us to get over the baggage that comes along with traditional evangelicalism and maybe even engage some fundamentalists from the other side of the spectrum who seem to think they have a monopoly on the prophetic voice.

Now I’m beginning to see that that’s not really disappointment at all. It’s my hope for the future of the conversation. That there is never any stasis in our dialogue and that we’re always pushing the envelope with a creative imagination.

And now you know where I stand. Read the rest of this entry »

Last week I posted an article over at Emergent Village titled “What Happens After Sola Scriptura?” exploring what I believe is viable alternative to a traditional view of Scripture.  An alternative that maintains a deep respect for Scripture and takes it very seriously while admitting our limitations as human beings who cannot read Scripture (or anything for that matter) in a vacuum.  My contention was that reading is always already interpretation and interpretation is always already situational.  The history of hermeneutics is indicative of that and I think it demonstrative that Scripture is not infallible or inerrant.  Even if it was, our ability to read it without biases or prejudices is permanently inhibited — we are human after all.  And I believe that is part of the human condition.

The article received a quite a bit of feedback, some positive and some negative.  However, I great deal of the responses fell into one of two categories, both of which I feel missed the larger point I was trying to get across.  So I want to take a minute and address each of them.

First, the original post was not written from a historical perspective nor was it meant to evaluated as such.  I understand that Luther and other Reformers posited a different idea of Sola Scriptura than what I delineated.  I also understand that Luther lived in a different time than we do, more specifically a period prior to the Enlightenment.  I’m sure that Luther et al. meant well and I believe that Sola Scriptura was helpful and useful for them during the Reformation.  But as post-Enlightenment individuals, I don’t believe we can hold such ideas in the same manner as we once could.  And I think the various ways in which Sola Scriptura has been abused and misused since then are demonstrative of that fact.  We have a different type of consciousness and Sola Scriptura today means something wholly different than it did in the 16th century.  We can’t help that.  There is no going back in my view.  And because our understand has changed, so must our response.  Which is why I suggest Prima Scriptura as an alternative to Sola Scriptura as it has come to be understood.  I have no desire to take on the entire Reformation.  I believe it was helpful and I admire it, which is why I refuse to let it crust over into dogma.  I believe we must always be reforming.  For some of us who can no longer hold Sola Scriptura, I suggested a different alternative (an alternative that is by no means new by the way) as a means why which we can continue to reform.

Which leads me to the second point I want to make and one that may be the most important. I have absolutely no interest in imperialism of whatever form, be it cultural, historical, social, or theological.  I can say that without equivocation.  I find such an idea to be not only arrogant and destructive, but also decidedly un-Christians and completely counter-intuitive to the way of Jesus.  So when I privilege Prima Scriptura over Sola Scriptura I am by no means suggest that anyone who holds the latter dearly should immediately reject it for the sake of the former.  Not at all.  What I am trying to do is speak for those of us who can no longer hold Sola Scriptura and wish to explore another alternative.  I am not out to win everyone over to my side.  In my view, if Sola Scriptura works for you, if it helps you to better love God and neighbor in your context, if it helps you to participate in God’s kingdom of restoration and renewal, if it helps you bear witness to the good news, and if it helps you embody the fruits of the Spirit in your life, then I have no reason to dismantle it for you.  I would say the same of the alternative.  In the words of William Barclay, “No man can disregard a religion and a faith and a power which is able to make bad men good.”  If that involves Sola Scriptura, more power to you.  Go in peace to bear witness to God’s kingdom.  If it doesn’t, my hope in the original article was that I provide an alternative (again, not at all an original one!) that might you to do that.

My point here is that we should hold our views of Scripture, whatever they are, honestly understanding that they are only efficacious insofar as they push us toward transformation and restoration into the image of God.  If you can hold Sola Scriptura honestly and it does that, wonderful. Let us join together to do the work with which we have been charged.  Personally, I cannot hold Sola Scriptura in such a way.  And it is my hope that others who cannot will find a useful alternative.  For me, that alternative is Prima Scriptura, it is that sentiment that I sought to convey in the original post.

I wrote an article exploring a viable alternative to Sola Scriptura over at the Emergent Village blog.  Here’s a little taste.

“You emergent-y, postmodern-ish types just want to do away with Scripture! You don’t want to take the time to seriously wrestle with the Bible!”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard those lines or something similar. You would think I developed a good answer a long, long time ago but I didn’t. For far too long I only spoke about the ways I didn’t want to view Scripture, which really only exacerbated the problem. Too many of us do that. I would like to suggest an alternative descriptive to our view of Scripture, something that is both positive and constructive.

Phyllis Tickle has suggested that it’s not if Sola Scriptura ends, but when. So what comes next? As much as I love to tag the “p word” before words, I’m not so sure it is sufficient for us to simply say we are post-Sola Scriptura. The Bible is too important for us to only strike-through the “sola.” And I think that many of us who resonate very deeply with Tickle’s sentiment take Scripture too seriously to only be reactionary. Frankly, we can’t afford to.

Read the rest at Emergent Village.

About six months ago, Emergent Village asked anyone and everyone who cared about the future of the organization to participate in a survey.  The purpose was to discern what direction the organization should take in the future.  There where four possible scenarios (you can read the descriptions in full as well as the entire letter of the board of directors here).

1. In 2011, having fulfilled its mission, Emergent Village has ceased operations.
2. In 2011, Emergent Village functions as a provocateur/prophet on the ecclesial landscape by linking and convening thought leaders and organizing a significant two-part event each year.
3. In 2011, Emergent Village has decentralized into many emergent neighborhoods. Many of these neighborhoods are local or regional cohorts which organize and present monthly meetings, events, websites, etc.
4. In 2011, Emergent Village has grown into a vibrant network. It supports and convenes cohort leaders and denominational network leaders, maintains publishing partnerships, and is a key partner in producing an annual national Christian faith, art, and social justice festival.

The clear winner among those surveyed where the last and second options, with the last being the winner.  Earlier today, EV posted a letter stating the direction of the organization over the next several years.

[W]e need to continue, but not institutionalize. We need to promote self-organizing neighborhoods yet maintain a kind of “village green” or commons for their to be cross-pollination and interaction among these different neighborhoods. We need to provide safe space for newcomers to the conversation and space for new ideas and provocative challenge to be shared as well. The question for us has been how to integrate these inherent tensions, insights, and agreements in a coherent plan.

The “coherent plan” consists of four main points that will be pursued (again, the expanded version can be read here).

1. To streamline, decentralize, and reduce expenses by discontinuing the role of National Coordinator.
2. To re-emphasize the importance of the website in creating space and supporting the network.
3. To decentralize by depending on friends of emergent—individuals, non-profits, and for-profits—to continue to seize new opportunities.
4. To reconfigure the board in 2009.

I am happy and impressed with this decision.  In the past I have been worried have institutionalization, centralization and homogenization, which, in my view undercuts the beauty of the network.  The statement from EV clearly asserts that his in not the intention.  Rather, the mission is to create intentional, organic space in which persons can interact and “cross-pollinate” (I love that image) while remaining faithful to the context space created in their particular locales.  It seems to me that this is the best and most effective way to participate in Missio dei not as another institutional monolith among many, but as an organic, grassroots, network allowing local freedom of expression and diversity.

I would encourage everyone to read the entire statement here.

What do you think?

There’s been a lot of noise going around the blogosphere over the past week or so concerning Emergent Village and their going mainstream, or selling-out, or whatever and by doing so losing the veracity of their marginal and thereby prophetic voice.  

Behold the great dilemma we all must face. Do we compromise ourselves only to lose our integrity and our voice, or does our voice change and evolve as we try to become marginally persuasive within the belly of the beast, or to put it another way and to echo someone we’re all familiar with, are we to be “in the system, but not of the system?”  Tough, tough, call.  

But that’s not really what I want to talk about (though it’s something we had all better be talking about, at least with ourself, before we’ve decided without even knowing it. Plus, I just got through talking about it, and my failing to do it).

What I want to talk about is the future of Emergent Village.  Ironically — and I have no idea of this is connected to the blogging I mentioned above, Read the rest of this entry »

I’ve never met Tony Jones. I’ve never even spoken to him (well, not verbally anyway, he did comment on my blog once, it was like having a celebrity dropping by my house). And yet, I wouldn’t hesitate to call him a friend. I think that captures the essence of Emergent. Friendship. Generative friendship that transcends physical proximity and traditional definition. Emergents have friends all over the place some of which they’ve never met. They find them on blogs, at conferences, in books, and at coffee shops. They join the larger conversation through email, instant messaging, and other forms of new media. It’s a brave new world out there and emergents are eager to explore. Tony embodies that.

His latest book, The New Christians: Dispatches from the Emergent Frontier, for the first time, authoritatively describes what it means to be emergent. And of all people, Tony is perfectly positioned to make such a judgment. His candid story of the beginnings of what is now Emergent Village is absolutely fascinating and his writing style is wonderful as he weaves in and out of encouraging, hopeful stories and tangible examples of persons living missionally in their contexts.

I know that I echo others when I say that TNC picks up where Brian McLaren’s early writings left off. Brian put into words that feeling, that deep, visceral intuition that we all had about the church and our culture. And now, finally, Tony has come along to add the meat and potatoes, so to speak, the substance, the theology, and the rationale behind what we’ve all wanted to be a part of for several years now. He has written the book we’ve all been waiting for. Some of us knew what it meant to be emergent, but we couldn’t tangibly describe it, we couldn’t quite place our finger on it, and in that respect Tony has done us all a great favor. He has set out to show what an emergent Christian looks like and he has done a wonderful job. TNC is the emergent book to date and I have a hunch it will remain the emergent book for quite some time. And now, instead of stammering and sounding cryptic and elusive when someone asks me what this “emerging church business is about,” I finally have a single book to give them!

I’ve always said that emergent is the last hope for the church in our post-Christian age. And quite frankly it has saved Christianity for me. That being said, I’m very, very glad that Tony wrote this book. It desperately needed to be written and I am confident that 20-30 years from now we will all point back to TNC as a defining moment in the history of emergent. If you consider yourself an emergent or you’re curious, this is most definitely a must read.

If you haven’t, do yourself a favor and go pick up a copy.