As I continue retracing where I have come from in my thinking, especially in my theological views, I realize that I began this process because I was recalling how much my views had changed over past 30 years. And, I wanted to be fair to viewpoints that I might have once held just as tenaciously as those I disagree with now hold such viewpoints. I didn't come from liberalism, but from conservatism, though I was raised with an ethical protest (in favor of mercy) against harsh conservatism. I was raised with a certain enlightened protest against liberalism, but I found myself in college coming to a personal, existentialist protest against liberalism and conservatism. In seminary, I was confronted with the core documents and traditions of Christianity, and began to experience different ways in which people made sense of these core documents and traditions and applied them to the living of life as individual, social and political beings.
In my next post, I want to tell a story or two to show my post-college, pre-seminary retrenchment in a neo-orthodox type of conservatism. This didn't last too long, but it was the last time I tried to be a conservative. So, maybe it is worth remembering.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Picking up where I left off two posts ago
I can't remember how I first heard about Soren Kierkegaard, and I can't remember whether I had started reading Kierkegaard before, during, or after my first semester at Wake Forest (Spring of 1981). I do know that I was reading everything by Kierkegaard that I could find by the summer of 1981: Fear and Trembling, and a Sickness unto Death, Unscientific Postscript, the Concept of Anxiety, Journals, and right at the center of it all, "Attack on Christendom."
I read these books with a great deal of identification with the author, who had written in the middle of the 19th century. I identified with Kierkegaard's intellectual protest against the liberal scientific approach of his day that left little room for subjectivity and the individual. Kierkegaard wrote and addressed others by emphasizing "the individual standing before the Eternal." He criticized the herd mentality (the crowd) and asserted the power of the individual who was authorized by the Eternal, to find his or her way. Kierkegaard was very sharp in his attack on organized Christianity in Denmark where he lived. Over against the popular view of the Christian life in Denmark, Kierkegaard set the actual text of the New Testament which described a much different version of what it meant to be a Christian. Many times in his works, he pauses to say that in light of the New Testament view of what it means to follow Christ, he can't say that he is a follower of Christ. Kierkegaard used to say that amidst all the deception of Christendom in his land, he sought to tell the truth, whether that exposed his lack or not.
I was reading the Bible very much around this time, and reading theology for the first time, and studying the Bible also from the historical-critical perspective for the first time as well. I was also in an intellectual, academic environment for the first time that was very much persuaded in the superiority of a scientific, historical critical view of all things in life. In Kierkegaard, I found a wise friend who gave voice to many tensions I was feeling in trying to find my place in all of this. First, he was a close reader of scripture who clearly was moved by its power, as something that could shake and awaken to new meaning, but also disturb the status quo. Second, he paid attention to his own experience as he tried to make sense of things, and would not allow anyone to convince him that his own experience was irrelevant to finding the truth in life. Third, he was different from the crowd, and had a peculiar way of making sense of life, and he refused to conform to what was considered normal either intellectually, religiously or personally. Fourth, he had a lot of confidence in his own intellectual ability and in his sense for what is true, and he was just as comfortable taking on the scientific, philosophical rulers of his day as he was taking on the Bishops and religious leaders of his time. And, finally, what Kierkegaard wrote had such a strong ring of truth to it, that I read and read and felt comforted by the genuineness of his search for the truth in life, and inspired by the courage with which he undertook this search.
Kierkegaard was like a priest or pastor without a parish, or with parishioners that he would never see or know. He was in a sense my pastor through college and seminary and after that to some extent. Because he could speak to me where I was, and he could encourage me in the way of faith, even as I felt repelled by the religious culture around me. And, as I felt provoked by the academic, irreligious culture as well, that thought it could understand all things from the perspective of science but didn't even know the first thing about what it meant to be human.
I was still very apolitical, very much focused on personal relationships as opposed to any commitments to social issues or organizations. I might be involved at this time or that with helping a stranger, but it was never part of some focused effort. I think I attended worship services at a local church maybe three or four times a semester, and I attended some parachurch Bible Studies or meetings a two or three times a semester as well. But, I had long and regular discussions with individuals about religion and series issues of life on a daily basis.
These thoughts describe what was going on for me in many ways during the middle of my last two years of college, however, as I moved along and read more of the later Barth, I tried to take up more of a positive view of institutional Christianity, and became more dogmatic towards the end of college and right after. I was trying to figure out my role as an adult. I looked up and realized that I was married, was going the seminary, needed to figure out how to make a living, etc. During this stage, I read the entire scripture, and all of Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion, and then came seminary in the summer of 1984. I remember reading the Bible and Calvin's Institutes every day during my lunchbreak when I was working as a cook at Buckhead Baptist Daycare Center in Atlanta from Sept, 1983 through June of 1984. At that time, I started Greek School at Columbia Theological Seminary. And, I loved it. To be able to read the New Testament in the original language was great, and by the end of Greek School that summer, I was beginning to do just that. My seminary education began on a very positive note.
I read these books with a great deal of identification with the author, who had written in the middle of the 19th century. I identified with Kierkegaard's intellectual protest against the liberal scientific approach of his day that left little room for subjectivity and the individual. Kierkegaard wrote and addressed others by emphasizing "the individual standing before the Eternal." He criticized the herd mentality (the crowd) and asserted the power of the individual who was authorized by the Eternal, to find his or her way. Kierkegaard was very sharp in his attack on organized Christianity in Denmark where he lived. Over against the popular view of the Christian life in Denmark, Kierkegaard set the actual text of the New Testament which described a much different version of what it meant to be a Christian. Many times in his works, he pauses to say that in light of the New Testament view of what it means to follow Christ, he can't say that he is a follower of Christ. Kierkegaard used to say that amidst all the deception of Christendom in his land, he sought to tell the truth, whether that exposed his lack or not.
I was reading the Bible very much around this time, and reading theology for the first time, and studying the Bible also from the historical-critical perspective for the first time as well. I was also in an intellectual, academic environment for the first time that was very much persuaded in the superiority of a scientific, historical critical view of all things in life. In Kierkegaard, I found a wise friend who gave voice to many tensions I was feeling in trying to find my place in all of this. First, he was a close reader of scripture who clearly was moved by its power, as something that could shake and awaken to new meaning, but also disturb the status quo. Second, he paid attention to his own experience as he tried to make sense of things, and would not allow anyone to convince him that his own experience was irrelevant to finding the truth in life. Third, he was different from the crowd, and had a peculiar way of making sense of life, and he refused to conform to what was considered normal either intellectually, religiously or personally. Fourth, he had a lot of confidence in his own intellectual ability and in his sense for what is true, and he was just as comfortable taking on the scientific, philosophical rulers of his day as he was taking on the Bishops and religious leaders of his time. And, finally, what Kierkegaard wrote had such a strong ring of truth to it, that I read and read and felt comforted by the genuineness of his search for the truth in life, and inspired by the courage with which he undertook this search.
Kierkegaard was like a priest or pastor without a parish, or with parishioners that he would never see or know. He was in a sense my pastor through college and seminary and after that to some extent. Because he could speak to me where I was, and he could encourage me in the way of faith, even as I felt repelled by the religious culture around me. And, as I felt provoked by the academic, irreligious culture as well, that thought it could understand all things from the perspective of science but didn't even know the first thing about what it meant to be human.
I was still very apolitical, very much focused on personal relationships as opposed to any commitments to social issues or organizations. I might be involved at this time or that with helping a stranger, but it was never part of some focused effort. I think I attended worship services at a local church maybe three or four times a semester, and I attended some parachurch Bible Studies or meetings a two or three times a semester as well. But, I had long and regular discussions with individuals about religion and series issues of life on a daily basis.
These thoughts describe what was going on for me in many ways during the middle of my last two years of college, however, as I moved along and read more of the later Barth, I tried to take up more of a positive view of institutional Christianity, and became more dogmatic towards the end of college and right after. I was trying to figure out my role as an adult. I looked up and realized that I was married, was going the seminary, needed to figure out how to make a living, etc. During this stage, I read the entire scripture, and all of Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion, and then came seminary in the summer of 1984. I remember reading the Bible and Calvin's Institutes every day during my lunchbreak when I was working as a cook at Buckhead Baptist Daycare Center in Atlanta from Sept, 1983 through June of 1984. At that time, I started Greek School at Columbia Theological Seminary. And, I loved it. To be able to read the New Testament in the original language was great, and by the end of Greek School that summer, I was beginning to do just that. My seminary education began on a very positive note.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The Will to Communicate
From time to time, I get frustrated and start feeling that it is not really worth trying to put my ideas into words and print, because what does it really lead to anyway? But, something in me continues to believe in the importance of communication and something inside rekindles my will to communicate with others.
And, I get the idea that many people just don't share that desire to really communicate with people about what is most important to the heart and mind. For me, it is part of my will to live. The desire to think, understand and communicate what I am thinking and understanding or not understanding - this is a desire that is really at the heart of life for me.
I guess that's why I keep getting back up to teach another Bible Study or preach another sermon or type another email to someone or post on this blog or have another open conversation with friend or someone from my family to share my confusion or clarity and to be able to see and hear their thoughts and feelings. There is a drive inside me to engage with others in the process of seeking understanding. Even when I get tired and feel like it's not worth writing and thinking and listening and talking, I still go right on thinking of why it is I feel that way. Pretty soon, I am back to writing and listening and reading and talking, trying to make sense of things again. It is like breathing for me. It is just something I do. I do it much better sometimes than others, but seeking to understand: others, social forces, myself, and the One above all beings is what keeps me going in life.
One of the old saints (I think it was Anselm) spoke of "faith seeking understanding" as being at the heart of theological work. And, I remember the words of the spiritual: "Sometimes I get discouraged, and feel my work's in vain. But, then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again . . . " Maybe that is a lot of what faith is, a perservering movement in the heart to seek understanding, even when misunderstanding and confusion are all that you can feel.
And, I get the idea that many people just don't share that desire to really communicate with people about what is most important to the heart and mind. For me, it is part of my will to live. The desire to think, understand and communicate what I am thinking and understanding or not understanding - this is a desire that is really at the heart of life for me.
I guess that's why I keep getting back up to teach another Bible Study or preach another sermon or type another email to someone or post on this blog or have another open conversation with friend or someone from my family to share my confusion or clarity and to be able to see and hear their thoughts and feelings. There is a drive inside me to engage with others in the process of seeking understanding. Even when I get tired and feel like it's not worth writing and thinking and listening and talking, I still go right on thinking of why it is I feel that way. Pretty soon, I am back to writing and listening and reading and talking, trying to make sense of things again. It is like breathing for me. It is just something I do. I do it much better sometimes than others, but seeking to understand: others, social forces, myself, and the One above all beings is what keeps me going in life.
One of the old saints (I think it was Anselm) spoke of "faith seeking understanding" as being at the heart of theological work. And, I remember the words of the spiritual: "Sometimes I get discouraged, and feel my work's in vain. But, then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again . . . " Maybe that is a lot of what faith is, a perservering movement in the heart to seek understanding, even when misunderstanding and confusion are all that you can feel.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Growing up in the Southern Presbyterian Church
I grew up going to church at Cedar Springs Presbyterian Church in Knoxville, TN. At that time, Cedar Springs Presbyterian was in the old P.C.U.S. denomination, which was known as the "Southern Presbyterian Church." Our ministers were Rev. Capel, and then Rev. Robert Ferguson, a Scottish pastor.
To be a Southern Presbyterian Church meant two things: one, that you were Presbyterian, and two, that you were not "Northern Presbyterian."
Looking back on it, there was a strong sense of being Presbyterian in a Scottish sort of way as the sermons and service were shaped by our Scottish minister, who was the pastor in the years I remember best. The best I can describe it is that it was a Presbyterianism that had a strong sense of celebration of the goodness of life, a deep sense of trust in God's goodness and sovereignty, together with a strong sense of personal, individual piety. There was also a certain intellectual character as well, though not in the rationalistic sort of way, more in a poetic sort of way.
These are just some feelings I have as I remember what it meant to grow up in the church that I did. Most of the influence when I was young came through my mother's way of being a church member, and through the Sunday School teachers I had. As I grew older, the sermons themselves were important. I remember listening quite carefully most of the time to Rev. Ferguson, who was always an interesting and meaningful speaker from the pulpit. He would tell the stories of the Bible in a way that I could identify with, and I got the sense that these stories were very important and sacred to him.
In a Southern Presbyterian Church, as I said above, it was clear that you were not one of the Northern Presbyterian churches, which meant that you didn't go in for too much politics or talk of social reform in church, though you still were reasonably open to consider social movements individually. And, I have learned through later experience, it meant that we weren't too interested in liturgical services (a lot of responsive readings) or the church calendar (emphasis on what special church holy days were being observed, other than Christmas or Easter).
I was very much influenced by the positive experience I had with communicants class as I prepared to be baptized and become a church member at age 12. I was in a class with two other children, and we were taught by Rev. Ferguson. Our pastor got along very well with us, and encouraged us to ask any questions we wanted, and he would respond very freely with his answers. I got the sense of the openness of faith and the intellectual part of it as well. And, I think I got a sense that our pastor was a genuinely good and deeply spiritual person as well.
One other influence was very strong and that was my parents teaching by word and example that deeds were most significant in religion, and that concern for those in need was the first matter of a genuine religious faith.
As I endured my high school years, I distanced myself at first from church and then came back to matters of faith with a powerful awakening to an adult faith towards the end of high school. As I came back to my roots, I did so through engagement with some very conservative movements of Christianity, much more conservative than the church I had been raised in. But, my roots in the Presybterian Church always caused me to have certain misgivings about the conservative parachurch groups I was participating in from time to time. I was deeply influenced by the broad reading of the Bible from my Presbyterian tradition, so that where one passage was over-emphasized by this group or that, I would go to my Bible myself, and figure that I would find another passage or other passages that would give a more clear picture of the issue at hand. I was also deeply influenced by my Presbyterian upbringing in that I believed in the graciousness of God, and I didn't believe in the need of an impressive religious leader or emotional appeal in preaching. Which is another way of saying that I was immune to the revivalistic techniques of many preachers. As they appealed to me to come forward and make sure I was saved, something in me rested and rejoiced and trusted in God's Word deep within me that couldn't be messed with by human beings.
These are just some of the things I went to college with. And, in college, I had an awakening to the "life of the mind." My background allowed me the freedom to really read and study religion and philosophy, no reading I did was very more important than the reading of Soren Kierkegaard's books. I will try to trace that influence next time.
As I go through this exercise in trying to remember where I came from religiously, I do so to understand better how I have come to believe as I do, and also so that i might begin to understand the deep influence that our experiences have upon us. Then, instead of assuming I have all this common ground with people, I might listen a while to where they came from, and come to understand what ground is common and what is not.
To be a Southern Presbyterian Church meant two things: one, that you were Presbyterian, and two, that you were not "Northern Presbyterian."
Looking back on it, there was a strong sense of being Presbyterian in a Scottish sort of way as the sermons and service were shaped by our Scottish minister, who was the pastor in the years I remember best. The best I can describe it is that it was a Presbyterianism that had a strong sense of celebration of the goodness of life, a deep sense of trust in God's goodness and sovereignty, together with a strong sense of personal, individual piety. There was also a certain intellectual character as well, though not in the rationalistic sort of way, more in a poetic sort of way.
These are just some feelings I have as I remember what it meant to grow up in the church that I did. Most of the influence when I was young came through my mother's way of being a church member, and through the Sunday School teachers I had. As I grew older, the sermons themselves were important. I remember listening quite carefully most of the time to Rev. Ferguson, who was always an interesting and meaningful speaker from the pulpit. He would tell the stories of the Bible in a way that I could identify with, and I got the sense that these stories were very important and sacred to him.
In a Southern Presbyterian Church, as I said above, it was clear that you were not one of the Northern Presbyterian churches, which meant that you didn't go in for too much politics or talk of social reform in church, though you still were reasonably open to consider social movements individually. And, I have learned through later experience, it meant that we weren't too interested in liturgical services (a lot of responsive readings) or the church calendar (emphasis on what special church holy days were being observed, other than Christmas or Easter).
I was very much influenced by the positive experience I had with communicants class as I prepared to be baptized and become a church member at age 12. I was in a class with two other children, and we were taught by Rev. Ferguson. Our pastor got along very well with us, and encouraged us to ask any questions we wanted, and he would respond very freely with his answers. I got the sense of the openness of faith and the intellectual part of it as well. And, I think I got a sense that our pastor was a genuinely good and deeply spiritual person as well.
One other influence was very strong and that was my parents teaching by word and example that deeds were most significant in religion, and that concern for those in need was the first matter of a genuine religious faith.
As I endured my high school years, I distanced myself at first from church and then came back to matters of faith with a powerful awakening to an adult faith towards the end of high school. As I came back to my roots, I did so through engagement with some very conservative movements of Christianity, much more conservative than the church I had been raised in. But, my roots in the Presybterian Church always caused me to have certain misgivings about the conservative parachurch groups I was participating in from time to time. I was deeply influenced by the broad reading of the Bible from my Presbyterian tradition, so that where one passage was over-emphasized by this group or that, I would go to my Bible myself, and figure that I would find another passage or other passages that would give a more clear picture of the issue at hand. I was also deeply influenced by my Presbyterian upbringing in that I believed in the graciousness of God, and I didn't believe in the need of an impressive religious leader or emotional appeal in preaching. Which is another way of saying that I was immune to the revivalistic techniques of many preachers. As they appealed to me to come forward and make sure I was saved, something in me rested and rejoiced and trusted in God's Word deep within me that couldn't be messed with by human beings.
These are just some of the things I went to college with. And, in college, I had an awakening to the "life of the mind." My background allowed me the freedom to really read and study religion and philosophy, no reading I did was very more important than the reading of Soren Kierkegaard's books. I will try to trace that influence next time.
As I go through this exercise in trying to remember where I came from religiously, I do so to understand better how I have come to believe as I do, and also so that i might begin to understand the deep influence that our experiences have upon us. Then, instead of assuming I have all this common ground with people, I might listen a while to where they came from, and come to understand what ground is common and what is not.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The Divine No Containing the Yes: Barth's Experience and Crisis Theology
With Barth, there was a deep sense of celebrating the JUDGMENT OF GOD. There is a sense of being shaken to the core by a reality beyond us but somehow concerned with us. It was an awakening to sanity, a deep realization of our creatureliness, and a confession that we were not the "masters of our fate," nor free to command on the earth. For Barth, it was a profound experience of the Otherness of God and the reality of that otherness as something that could be experienced both in prayer, thought, and deed that changed his course in life, and changed the course of many in the 20th century through his influence.
And, in contrast to Nietzsche who took any signal that human beings were not the gods of the earth as movement against life, Barth received this message of judgment upon human arrogance and presumption with gladness. Having gotten used to standing on the shaky plank of human wisdom and learning, Barth rejoiced as the plank had broken and he found himself falling into the deep waters of God's grace. Waters chaotic and powerful, but waters that were commanded by the One who ruled wind and waves.
For Barth, God had unveiled the falseness and emptiness of human wisdom, presumption and confidence. And, to receive this judgment put a man or woman in a crisis of the soul, because there was no going back to a vision of life that was not broken, no going back to a world in which human learning and science would get us through.
I have almost always experienced God's judgment as redeeming, as good news. It may be hard, but it is real and restores life and a sense of reality. In my next post I am going to back up a little, and trace where I came from religiously before encountering this new word from Barth and the existentialists, especially Kierkegaard.
And, in contrast to Nietzsche who took any signal that human beings were not the gods of the earth as movement against life, Barth received this message of judgment upon human arrogance and presumption with gladness. Having gotten used to standing on the shaky plank of human wisdom and learning, Barth rejoiced as the plank had broken and he found himself falling into the deep waters of God's grace. Waters chaotic and powerful, but waters that were commanded by the One who ruled wind and waves.
For Barth, God had unveiled the falseness and emptiness of human wisdom, presumption and confidence. And, to receive this judgment put a man or woman in a crisis of the soul, because there was no going back to a vision of life that was not broken, no going back to a world in which human learning and science would get us through.
I have almost always experienced God's judgment as redeeming, as good news. It may be hard, but it is real and restores life and a sense of reality. In my next post I am going to back up a little, and trace where I came from religiously before encountering this new word from Barth and the existentialists, especially Kierkegaard.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Living in the Faith of Jesus, the Christ: listening to the early Karl Barth
In this post I am continuing the reflection about what it means to share the faith of Jesus. That may sound a little different to you as you might have expected me to say: "what it means to believe in Jesus as the Son of God," or "what it means to be a Christian." I certainly could have used either of those other phrases, but I purposefully choose "what it means to share the faith of Jesus, the Christ."
And, it will take me some clarification to say what I mean by this phrase. First, by share the faith of Jesus, I mean to "participate in the faithful response of Jesus to God, but also to participate in the faithful response of Jesus to humanity on behalf of God." It is this two way faithfulness of Jesus that creates the reality that we participate in, which we call "faith." In several parts of the New Testament, Paul writes that our reconciliation with God and our redemption from destructive forces depends on the faithfulness of Jesus, and our participation in that faithfulness which begins with complete dependence and trust in God's faithfulness towards us and in the miracle of Jesus' human faithfulness to God (and, humanity). Somehow,Jesus, whether acting for humanity towards God or acting for God towards humanity, is the revelation of true God and true humanity. What Jesus opens up for all people is a pathway to a deep communion between God and human beings. What human beings come to share in is the relationship between the Father and the Son. It is like humanity is being adopted into this close and genuine communion between the Father and the Son, with human beings being the adopted brothers of Jesus.
This sounds less like science fiction, or if it still sounds like science fiction, it has such a sense of family and intimacy that it begins to feel very "close to home" for us human beings. Maybe it just begins to sound "too good to be true." For, now we are talking about the Creator of the Universe treating small, limited creatures like us 'like family.' From outside the community of faith, and maybe also from inside, this might sound delusional, or at least like the imaginings of humans who greatly exaggerate their importance in the cosmic scheme.
But, this familial language really gets to the heart of the experience of faith. Paul says that we no longer have a spirit of bondage and fear, but that God's Spirit cries out from within us, "Abba, Father!" expressing the ecstatic love of a little child for his or her Daddy (or Mommy). This is written in Romans, chapter 8 in the New Testament.
But, in the early days of neo-orthodox preaching and writing (at the end of the First World War), this biblical image of the profound experience of unity between God and humanity was emphasized to reveal (expose) the depths of alienation that we experience between ourselves and God. And, this existentialist emphasis on alienation went further to describe the alienation between human beings and the alienation even within individual human beings from their own self. I think Heideggar(not a theolgian, but existentialist philosopher) used the term "thrownness" to describe the consciousness of 20th century human beings in the West. Thrownness is something like finding yourself on the ground in a strange place, not knowing how you fit in, how you got there, where you are going or how you really relate to anyone or anything around you or how to understand yourself.
For Barth, and the early 20th century existentialist thinkers, whether Christian or not, it was this deep sense of alienation that we all shared in the depths of our beings. For them, the confidence in modern science was shaken, the confidence in traditional religious orthodoxies was shaken as well. And, Barth thought that the sense of alienation was experienced in an even deeper way when a person caught a glimpse of this profound unity and meaning expressed in Paul's preaching about God's gracious embrace of humanity in Jesus, the Christ. Because, as Barth said, this profound sense of meaning and unity is exactly what we don't have in modern life, within or without the Church. And, Barth experienced and believed that it was in facing this existential crisis or truth of our existence that the way towards "faith" was opened for us.
As I have studied more about mystical writers in Christianity, and as I have become more and more drawn into the tradition of apophatic theology (deep emphasis on the experience of "unknowing," and of being "undone" and entering into a darkness of thinking and knowing and believing as the way of faith), I feel more and more that the early Barth was really giving expression to a deep "apophatic" experience, and that he was clearly and faithfully in the old sacred "negative theological experience" in the Church, but living it out in a new age.
When the young Barth spoke of this deep sense of alienation as it related to faith, and as the expression of a faith that so many 20th century human beings could relate to, he protested against the prevailing theologies of his day. Barth's position was overagainst the confident academic liberal theologians who felt their beliefs fit comfortably within the modern scientific culture, and overagainst the dogmatic and somewhat less academically secure conservative theologians who felt that their beliefs, though not well accepted by scientific culture, were nonetheless true to the old tradition, whether that tradition was found relevant or not by the modern world. And, Barth's position clearly arose from a powerful sense of the reality of God in conflict with the modern age, but also deeply in conflict with the Church in the modern age. And, there was no retreat from this reality of God, either by hiding out in some worn out orthodoxy of days gone by or by hiding out in some new orthodoxy of the contemporary culture. For Barth, who was shaken by his experience of the living God as he "reread" scripture and re-experienced what it was to live before God and with his fellow human beings, there was no avoiding this earthshaking, soulshaking reality of God's presence. And, the first thing Barth heard from God to himself and the modern world was a profound 'NO," a NO to human arrogance and presumption that had thought it was above God, or at least, thought it was self-sufficient. What Barth saw in the 20th century was at the very point that human beings thought they had conquered the mysteries of the world through science, human beings were on the verge of destroying themselves. In the most cultured, scientifically advanced country on earth had arisen the greatest enemy and evil of humanity, the Nazi regime. Barth's theology arose out of this experience as he was teaching in Germany at the time, and as he was exiled from Germany for his teachings against the way of the Nazis.
This extreme sense of alienation (thrownness in Heideggar), was an expression of life in the modern western world, and was an important part of how Barth and neo-orthodox theologians were finding their way to an authentic understanding of faith that they were communicating to people both within and outside the Church.
I'll continue these ramblings later in a third part, and with the next part I will try to say how Barth experienced the great "NO" of God to himself and humanity as the beginning of meaning in the modern world, as the beginning of a new creation from the ashes of the old.
If you have time to look on the internet, see if you can find a copy of Barth's sermon which reflects on the sinking of the Titanic. It was around 1916, I think,and he was a young pastor at the time.
And, it will take me some clarification to say what I mean by this phrase. First, by share the faith of Jesus, I mean to "participate in the faithful response of Jesus to God, but also to participate in the faithful response of Jesus to humanity on behalf of God." It is this two way faithfulness of Jesus that creates the reality that we participate in, which we call "faith." In several parts of the New Testament, Paul writes that our reconciliation with God and our redemption from destructive forces depends on the faithfulness of Jesus, and our participation in that faithfulness which begins with complete dependence and trust in God's faithfulness towards us and in the miracle of Jesus' human faithfulness to God (and, humanity). Somehow,Jesus, whether acting for humanity towards God or acting for God towards humanity, is the revelation of true God and true humanity. What Jesus opens up for all people is a pathway to a deep communion between God and human beings. What human beings come to share in is the relationship between the Father and the Son. It is like humanity is being adopted into this close and genuine communion between the Father and the Son, with human beings being the adopted brothers of Jesus.
This sounds less like science fiction, or if it still sounds like science fiction, it has such a sense of family and intimacy that it begins to feel very "close to home" for us human beings. Maybe it just begins to sound "too good to be true." For, now we are talking about the Creator of the Universe treating small, limited creatures like us 'like family.' From outside the community of faith, and maybe also from inside, this might sound delusional, or at least like the imaginings of humans who greatly exaggerate their importance in the cosmic scheme.
But, this familial language really gets to the heart of the experience of faith. Paul says that we no longer have a spirit of bondage and fear, but that God's Spirit cries out from within us, "Abba, Father!" expressing the ecstatic love of a little child for his or her Daddy (or Mommy). This is written in Romans, chapter 8 in the New Testament.
But, in the early days of neo-orthodox preaching and writing (at the end of the First World War), this biblical image of the profound experience of unity between God and humanity was emphasized to reveal (expose) the depths of alienation that we experience between ourselves and God. And, this existentialist emphasis on alienation went further to describe the alienation between human beings and the alienation even within individual human beings from their own self. I think Heideggar(not a theolgian, but existentialist philosopher) used the term "thrownness" to describe the consciousness of 20th century human beings in the West. Thrownness is something like finding yourself on the ground in a strange place, not knowing how you fit in, how you got there, where you are going or how you really relate to anyone or anything around you or how to understand yourself.
For Barth, and the early 20th century existentialist thinkers, whether Christian or not, it was this deep sense of alienation that we all shared in the depths of our beings. For them, the confidence in modern science was shaken, the confidence in traditional religious orthodoxies was shaken as well. And, Barth thought that the sense of alienation was experienced in an even deeper way when a person caught a glimpse of this profound unity and meaning expressed in Paul's preaching about God's gracious embrace of humanity in Jesus, the Christ. Because, as Barth said, this profound sense of meaning and unity is exactly what we don't have in modern life, within or without the Church. And, Barth experienced and believed that it was in facing this existential crisis or truth of our existence that the way towards "faith" was opened for us.
As I have studied more about mystical writers in Christianity, and as I have become more and more drawn into the tradition of apophatic theology (deep emphasis on the experience of "unknowing," and of being "undone" and entering into a darkness of thinking and knowing and believing as the way of faith), I feel more and more that the early Barth was really giving expression to a deep "apophatic" experience, and that he was clearly and faithfully in the old sacred "negative theological experience" in the Church, but living it out in a new age.
When the young Barth spoke of this deep sense of alienation as it related to faith, and as the expression of a faith that so many 20th century human beings could relate to, he protested against the prevailing theologies of his day. Barth's position was overagainst the confident academic liberal theologians who felt their beliefs fit comfortably within the modern scientific culture, and overagainst the dogmatic and somewhat less academically secure conservative theologians who felt that their beliefs, though not well accepted by scientific culture, were nonetheless true to the old tradition, whether that tradition was found relevant or not by the modern world. And, Barth's position clearly arose from a powerful sense of the reality of God in conflict with the modern age, but also deeply in conflict with the Church in the modern age. And, there was no retreat from this reality of God, either by hiding out in some worn out orthodoxy of days gone by or by hiding out in some new orthodoxy of the contemporary culture. For Barth, who was shaken by his experience of the living God as he "reread" scripture and re-experienced what it was to live before God and with his fellow human beings, there was no avoiding this earthshaking, soulshaking reality of God's presence. And, the first thing Barth heard from God to himself and the modern world was a profound 'NO," a NO to human arrogance and presumption that had thought it was above God, or at least, thought it was self-sufficient. What Barth saw in the 20th century was at the very point that human beings thought they had conquered the mysteries of the world through science, human beings were on the verge of destroying themselves. In the most cultured, scientifically advanced country on earth had arisen the greatest enemy and evil of humanity, the Nazi regime. Barth's theology arose out of this experience as he was teaching in Germany at the time, and as he was exiled from Germany for his teachings against the way of the Nazis.
This extreme sense of alienation (thrownness in Heideggar), was an expression of life in the modern western world, and was an important part of how Barth and neo-orthodox theologians were finding their way to an authentic understanding of faith that they were communicating to people both within and outside the Church.
I'll continue these ramblings later in a third part, and with the next part I will try to say how Barth experienced the great "NO" of God to himself and humanity as the beginning of meaning in the modern world, as the beginning of a new creation from the ashes of the old.
If you have time to look on the internet, see if you can find a copy of Barth's sermon which reflects on the sinking of the Titanic. It was around 1916, I think,and he was a young pastor at the time.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
What does it mean to be a follower of Jesus, the Christ?
I am thinking now about how we live out our lives and don't take the time to examine the meaning of our lives. One part of the meaning of our lives that is extremely important is what we believe about the universe, human beings, the reason and destiny of both. As I think of these things, I think from the experience of faith.
But, what is this faith that I feel a part of as it is a part of me? As I start to explain, some images come to mind: Jesus, the prophets of the Bible, the Holy Scriptures, and a long line of witnesses to a living faith that began with holy experiences on earth. But, how do I know about these holy experiences on earth? What is the source of my knowledge? There is certainly a living tradition that has been passed down in the Church, written and oral; there are the Holy Scriptures that are at the core of this tradition, but represent a norm to guide the tradition; and there is my individual and communal experience of "the Holy One." The Holy Scriptures speak of foundational events such as the Creation of the Earth, the creation of a people out of Abraham, the redemption of the Hebrew people from their bondage in Egypt, the calling of prophets and the witness that they bore before the people about the truth and will of God on earth. And, with the books written about Jesus and following his witness on earth in Judea around 2,000 years ago, we hear of a creative act of God of a new sort, the calling of a prophet like the old, but also unlike those who had gone before, and then we hear of the destruction of Jesus by the authorities of his day, but this destruction/execution/death becomes the revelation of God and the unveiling of a new relationship between God and human beings. The resurrection of Jesus is celebrated as the dawning of a new age, as God's Spirit comes to the earth among human beings in a new and personal way.
For someone listening to all of this from outside the religious tradition, it might sound a lot like science fiction. Someone might think: "this sounds a lot like some of the ancient mythologies . . . can a person in our day really believe that this "holy history" describes reality?"
In the 20th century, there were two basic approaches taken among Protestant theologians who responded to questions like these. One approach was the approach of liberalism which was to apply the tools of modern historical research and literary criticism and discern the kernel of truth in the ancient traditions and documents from that tradition. Often, all that was left was some moral teachings, with no real claims to truth about the basic core of reality. The other approach was that of neo-orthodox theology, which arose out of liberal theology but in protest against it, relying on a new dynamic way of reading the scriptures. This theology had its precursors in both the Reformation and in an existential type of theology like that of S. Kierkegaard in modern times, which rejected liberal theology while not reverting to a fundamentalist type conservative theology. To understand neo-orthodox theology, you need to read Karl Barth's writings, especially his early ones like his first edition of his commentary of Romans or some of his early essays like 'The Strange New World of the Bible,' and you also need to study some about the political and social circumstances out of which this neo-orthodox protest arose. Liberal theologians in Germany actually provided support for the Third Reich as did the conservative theologians, whereas neo-orthodox theologians formed subversive movements seeking to undermine the Nazis and remain true to the way of "Jesus, the Jew," as they called him in protest and claimed that this Jesus was the unparalleled revelation of the very being and truth of God and the truth about humanity as well. But, later in the movement when it came to explaining their beliefs to those outside their religious community, the neo-orthodox answer that Barth gave was that none of it made any sense until you had taken the "leap of faith" and were standing within the tradition. You either take that leap or not, but no one can give you any assurances or guarantees about truth before you face this crisis in your own soul, a crisis about the depths of existence, both within and without you.
However, I really think that the early Barth was talking to the world both within and outside the Church in the same way in the beginning when he spoke of "Crisis Theology," as an existentialist theologian (although he later distanced himself from existentialist thought). And, I want to go back to his early writings and the holy history of this movement of neo-orthodox or crisis theology in the early 20th century. Because, in those days, Barth bore witness to an emptiness of meaning in human thought and life, and he bore witness to it in such a powerful way that something holy was opened up - a new way was opened between the human and the divine, a new way that was a very old way, grounded in the troubling claim that God was not just involved in some way, but had revealed the Divine Self and Character in the execution of Jesus of Nazareth.
The power of Barth's early language and protest was so strong that it convinced many that his critique of modern thought and life came from "The Truth," from God. I am convinced of this too, and was stunned when I started reading Barth in college, along with the reading of Kierkegaard. There is something in the modern soul that feels a genuineness and a freedom in Barth's protest. I don't know how to discuss belief in our day without talking about Barth's thinking and preaching.
Well, to bring this to a close for now, I had meant to say that the neo-orthodox answer to explaining faith to those outside the religious community was that the neo-orthodox just quit trying to make sense of faith to the world. But, as I was about to write that, I remembered that early on there was some real and earnest communication going on with those within and without the Church about the foundation of what it means to be human and what it means to live before God. So, I want to start with this, when I continue to speak of what it means to be a follower of Jesus, the Christ in the next post.
But, what is this faith that I feel a part of as it is a part of me? As I start to explain, some images come to mind: Jesus, the prophets of the Bible, the Holy Scriptures, and a long line of witnesses to a living faith that began with holy experiences on earth. But, how do I know about these holy experiences on earth? What is the source of my knowledge? There is certainly a living tradition that has been passed down in the Church, written and oral; there are the Holy Scriptures that are at the core of this tradition, but represent a norm to guide the tradition; and there is my individual and communal experience of "the Holy One." The Holy Scriptures speak of foundational events such as the Creation of the Earth, the creation of a people out of Abraham, the redemption of the Hebrew people from their bondage in Egypt, the calling of prophets and the witness that they bore before the people about the truth and will of God on earth. And, with the books written about Jesus and following his witness on earth in Judea around 2,000 years ago, we hear of a creative act of God of a new sort, the calling of a prophet like the old, but also unlike those who had gone before, and then we hear of the destruction of Jesus by the authorities of his day, but this destruction/execution/death becomes the revelation of God and the unveiling of a new relationship between God and human beings. The resurrection of Jesus is celebrated as the dawning of a new age, as God's Spirit comes to the earth among human beings in a new and personal way.
For someone listening to all of this from outside the religious tradition, it might sound a lot like science fiction. Someone might think: "this sounds a lot like some of the ancient mythologies . . . can a person in our day really believe that this "holy history" describes reality?"
In the 20th century, there were two basic approaches taken among Protestant theologians who responded to questions like these. One approach was the approach of liberalism which was to apply the tools of modern historical research and literary criticism and discern the kernel of truth in the ancient traditions and documents from that tradition. Often, all that was left was some moral teachings, with no real claims to truth about the basic core of reality. The other approach was that of neo-orthodox theology, which arose out of liberal theology but in protest against it, relying on a new dynamic way of reading the scriptures. This theology had its precursors in both the Reformation and in an existential type of theology like that of S. Kierkegaard in modern times, which rejected liberal theology while not reverting to a fundamentalist type conservative theology. To understand neo-orthodox theology, you need to read Karl Barth's writings, especially his early ones like his first edition of his commentary of Romans or some of his early essays like 'The Strange New World of the Bible,' and you also need to study some about the political and social circumstances out of which this neo-orthodox protest arose. Liberal theologians in Germany actually provided support for the Third Reich as did the conservative theologians, whereas neo-orthodox theologians formed subversive movements seeking to undermine the Nazis and remain true to the way of "Jesus, the Jew," as they called him in protest and claimed that this Jesus was the unparalleled revelation of the very being and truth of God and the truth about humanity as well. But, later in the movement when it came to explaining their beliefs to those outside their religious community, the neo-orthodox answer that Barth gave was that none of it made any sense until you had taken the "leap of faith" and were standing within the tradition. You either take that leap or not, but no one can give you any assurances or guarantees about truth before you face this crisis in your own soul, a crisis about the depths of existence, both within and without you.
However, I really think that the early Barth was talking to the world both within and outside the Church in the same way in the beginning when he spoke of "Crisis Theology," as an existentialist theologian (although he later distanced himself from existentialist thought). And, I want to go back to his early writings and the holy history of this movement of neo-orthodox or crisis theology in the early 20th century. Because, in those days, Barth bore witness to an emptiness of meaning in human thought and life, and he bore witness to it in such a powerful way that something holy was opened up - a new way was opened between the human and the divine, a new way that was a very old way, grounded in the troubling claim that God was not just involved in some way, but had revealed the Divine Self and Character in the execution of Jesus of Nazareth.
The power of Barth's early language and protest was so strong that it convinced many that his critique of modern thought and life came from "The Truth," from God. I am convinced of this too, and was stunned when I started reading Barth in college, along with the reading of Kierkegaard. There is something in the modern soul that feels a genuineness and a freedom in Barth's protest. I don't know how to discuss belief in our day without talking about Barth's thinking and preaching.
Well, to bring this to a close for now, I had meant to say that the neo-orthodox answer to explaining faith to those outside the religious community was that the neo-orthodox just quit trying to make sense of faith to the world. But, as I was about to write that, I remembered that early on there was some real and earnest communication going on with those within and without the Church about the foundation of what it means to be human and what it means to live before God. So, I want to start with this, when I continue to speak of what it means to be a follower of Jesus, the Christ in the next post.
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