Read John Calvin in 2009

Are you interested in reading John Calvin’s Institutes in 2009? Princeton Theological Seminary has set up a reading schedule to follow along which you can access here. While you’re at it, you might want to check out the helpful Calvin primer entitled, So, You Want to Read John Calvin? over at Der Evangelische Theologe.

Karl Barth and Canadian Evangelicals

I’ve been notified that the Center for Barth Studies at Princeton Theological Seminary has posted a PDF copy of the “talk” I gave at the June 2007 Karl Barth conference. The title of my talk was “An Unscientific Analysis of Perceptions of Karl Barth among Canadian Evangelical Theologians.”  

If you are interested in reading it, you can go to the online article list here, then scroll to the bottom and click on the appropriate link. Or you can go directly to the pdf by clicking here. I’ll also add the pdf to my “Shared files” list.

One more file I added in the “Shared Files” box is  a PowerPoint outline of a lecture I gave in mid-December on “Karl Barth and Evangelicalism.” Sorry, I don’t have a manuscript for this, but you can get the “gist” of it from the outline.

Theology of Trust?

I have a colleague who is looking for a good theological work on the theme of “trust.” I am looking for your input. Have you read a good theologically oriented book on the theme of trust? What would you recommend?

If you are thinking of mentioning Volf’s Exclusion and Embrace, no need. That one is already on the list. I’ve also seen Martin Marty’s 2003 book, Speaking of Trust,  but don’t have access to it. Has anyone read it and can say something about it? 

Beyond that, any other suggestions?

collected reflections on Christmas

Here are some various online theological reflections I have stumbled over in the past while. Enjoy!

• I’d recommend you drop on over to “…A Resch Like Me” to read the thought- provoking and challenging reflections on “A Wal-mart Christmas.” I love Dustin’s concept of the “broken witness” to Christmas.
• On a more technical side of things, you might be interested in the article by Ross Hastings on Christianity.ca entitled, “What DNA Matter Did the Baby Jesus Have?” Hastings follows Calvin on this question over Zwingli or Barth (though I wonder whether he got Barth’s position exactly right…I’ll have to look further into this). 
• Last year Philip Yancey provided a brief review of an ancient debate between Duns Scotus and Thomas Aquinas on whether Christmas would have occurred if humanity had not sinned. See his article on the Christianity Today website called Ongoing Incarnation. You can also find an article there reviewing some of the current astronomical theories about what the star of Bethelehem may have been.
• In terms of Christmas hymns, did you know that the original lyrics and music to “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” (written by Charles Wesley in 1739) were not the same as the ones we sing? In fact, the opening verse is, 

Hark, how all the welkin rings,

“Glory to the King of kings;

peace on earth, and mercy mild,

God and sinners reconciled!”

 

(You can find all 10 of the original stanzas here.)

What in the world is a “welkin” you ask? Why, I’m glad you asked! It is the celestial sphere in which the astronomical objects like stars are planets were believed to reside. So for Wesley, it is not “herald angels” that are singing glory to the King, but the celestial heavens! (Apparently it was George Whitefield who changed the words to “Herald angels”!) As far as the tune, it is attributed to Felix Mendelssohn.  For more on this, see here  and the Wikipedia article  here.

• In lieu of me personally coming up with anything new on the topic, you might also be interested in some “Xmas reflections” I had and which were published online for  a couple of years ago. Let me know what you think of my “In defence of ‘Xmas.’” 
• Last, my collection of Christmas reflections would be incomplete without at least one Christmas joke. 

A Rabbi and a Catholic priest had spent hours debating the theological legitimacy of Christmas. Not surprisingly, neither was won to the other side. However, as Christmas Day approached, the priest was surprised one day when he received a Christmas Card in the mail from none other than the Rabbi. When he opened it up, he read:
Roses are red
Violets are bluish
When the real Messiah comes
You’ll wish you were Jewish!

If you have any further interesting Christmas links (whether serious or not so serious), let us know!

mathematics and theological role models

An Oxford researcher by the name of Dr. Iphu B. Leevit has been studying the relationship of mathematics and theology. His study revealed that there is a sub-conscious mathematical element to an individual’s theological preferences. In order to demonstrate this, he came up with a simple mathematical formula that will reveal which theologian you are most likely to follow as a “theological role model.” The key to this working, of course, is that you answer the first question with what immediately comes to mind. If you don’t, the final result may be skewed.

So go ahead and try this simple exercise. Make sure you do all the calculations correctly and don’t “peek” ahead at the answers before finishing. 

1) Pick the number which first comes to mind between 1-9.

2) Multiply that number by 3. 

3) Add 3.

4) Multiply the answer by 3 (it’s ok if you have to use a calculator…no one will know!)

At this point you will get either a 2 or 3 digit number

5) Add the 2 or 3 digits together to get your final answer.

 Now with that number in mind, click here to see who your THEOLOGICAL ROLE MODEL is. Then enter the password “test” to see results. Quite astounding, isn’t it?

Protected: theological role model list…

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the metamorphosis and Incarnation

I just finished reading Franz Kafka’s novella The Metamorphosis. I’ve had it on my shelf for some time, but finally read it this weekend. (It doesn’t take long–it’s only about 60 pages long).  Warning: plot summary ahead, so if you haven’t read the novel yet and don’t want it spoiled, I suggest you read it online here first.

The opening line of the story is indicative of Kafka’s idiosyncratic style: “When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself  changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin.” From there, there’s not a whole lot more to the story’s plot development or even changes of setting. In fact, the whole story takes place in Gregor’s family’s apartment and consists of nothing more than a painful recounting of how Gregor’s father, mother and younger sister, Grete, have to learn to deal with this “unfortunate” turn of events.

Not surprisingly, initially everyone is shocked and traumatized to see that Gregor has turned into a bug, though there is no investigation of why this happened or any attempt to find out if there is any way to reverse the change. In fact, it’s unsettling to see how fast the family turns from initial shock and revulsion to simply trying to figure out how to carry on as if nothing has happened!

Gregor’s transformation has earth-shattering implications for the family, especially since Gregor is the sole breadwinner. Yet, somehow the family “adapts” to the metamorphis, if you could call their constant “dis-ease” with Gregor’s presence ”adapting,” despite all the awkwardness that comes with a big bug son/brother in the next room. They quickly turn to the family savings which Gregor himself has supplied and settle in for the long haul, without any apparent sense of gratitude or awareness that it was Gregor the vermin that had the foresight to set this “rainy day fund” aside in the first place. Much more sadly, though Gregor hopes and dreams for some semblance of a relationship with his sister who at least shows some initial mercy toward him, it is not long before all familial relationship to Gregor is practically severed, not least because of the family’s inability to hear what Gregor is saying, even though he is able to continue speaking and hearing them. Thus, through the remainder of the story, Gregor remains more or less confined to a corner in an increasingly crowded room (they keep moving things that are in their way into his room since he doesn’t need the room anymore anyways) as his family continued to find ways to cope with his presence. Not surprisingly, they increasingly treat him as  a pitiful but grotesque animal, with occasional “sacrifices” of  food left in his room and an occasional quick, but careless, cleaning of his room. The family, it seems, hopes that this is enough to keep things basically “normal.” Otherwise,  life goes on with the rest of the family finding jobs, along with bringing in three boarders to help pay the bills. Ironically, Gregor spends some of his days looking out his bedroom window at the hospital right across the street, yet neither he nor his family seems to think that perhaps they should seek advice or help there for their situation. Indeed, no one seems to have the presence of mind even to ask the question of how this extraordinary thing could have taken place in the first place.

To begin with,  Gregor’s transformation into a big dung beetle is a source of irritation to the other family members. But as the story progresses, his presence more and more becomes a source of bitterness and despair for all involved. Finally, Gregor’s presence becomes catastrophic for the family when one day the three boarders discover Gregor creeping out from his room (the family had managed to keep him hidden from their sight) as he was drawn to the sound of the violin played by his sister. Pandemonium erupts: the boarders threaten legal action and father counter-threatens to throw them out. However, all is settled when, one day, Gregor’s beetle-like body is found by the cleaning lady–dead. Though Gregor had been a loyal son, a hard-working employee, and a loving brother who had supplied all the family needs, his death brings no mourning, but only great relief. It is as it is only by his death that the three, father, mother and Grete, finally are “saved” from their perpetual awkwardness. Upon being discovered dead, Gregor’s father simply proclaims, “Well, now we can thank God!” It is then, and only then, that Mr Samsa summons the courage to fire the troublesome housekeeper, evict the boarders, and find enough energy (he is pictured as sleeping for most of the novel) to take his wife and daughter for a trip into the country side. The novel’s last lines end with Mr and Mrs Samsa marvelling at their young daughter, “communicating almost unconsciously through glances, . . . that it would soon be time, too, to find her a good husband. And it was like a confirmation of their dreams and good intentions when at the end of their [trolley] ride their daughter got up first and stretched her young body.” Tragically, it is as if it is only through the final forgetting of the hideous son Gregor that they are finally set free to live life with joy themselves.

As with most Kafka stories, there are numerous lines of interpretation begging to be explored. But I was struck by the parallels between the Gregor’s metamorphosis and the mystery of the Incarnation of the Son of God. Of course, there is a clear contrast between the two: in Gregor’s case, the metamorphosis involved a man being transformed into something clearly and wholly other than man, even while retaining his essential humanity,while in the incarnation God is transformed into a man, even while retaining his essence as divine. But beyond these inverted images,  I see a parallel between how the family reacts to Gregor’s metamorphosis and how humanity has historically reacted to the incarnation. Though the extraordinary miracle of God becoming human in Jesus Christ has actually happened, like Gregor’s family, the human family finds such a happening, well, frankly, irritating. (I think of Herod here who hears of the birth of the annointed child and reacts out of fierce irritation).  And in some respects, a good portion of the history of humanity since Christ’s coming  has been a history of trying to “adapt” to this irritating fact of the Incarnation while trying to do everything in our power to resist having to change anything in our comfortable lives. Put another way, though the Incarnation has happened, we humans have tried our best to try not to allow it to disrupt or disturb us too seriously. Perhaps we can pretend it never happened, or simply see it as a bad dream or out-of-date myth. Or perhaps we can respectfully theologize it to the point where its extraordinariness is no longer quite so extraordinary. Like Gregor’s family,  we have “tried our darndest” to go on living as if the Grand Metamorphosis of God becoming man never happened.

Again the contrast between Gregor’s metamorphosis and the Son of God’s incarnation is vitally important because, after all, it is frankly so much easier to deal with man becoming a “a god.” Indeed, this is so easy that we have a tendency to do this over and over again (Cf. Rom 1:25). We’re happy to promote even our peers to godlike status, whether moviestars, sports stars, politicians, or even friends and family.  But for God to become man? This is just so inconvenient for us. For it means that no longer can we keep God locked up neatly in “heaven,”  (cf. the room where Gregor’s family kept him locked up) while we can keep on living our “normal lives” here on earth. Instead, we  have this “irritating” reminder (especially at Christmas time!) that not only has God refused to remain splendidly isolated from us in glory, but that he has come and dwelt among us in flesh (John 1:14). He came as Immanuel (Matt 1:23) and now promises to be with us, even until the end of the age  (Matt 28:20). Yet we continue to live in darkness, even though this great light has dawned upon us.

Where The Metamorphosis ends, however, is not where the Christian story ends. Even though it is only upon Gregor’s death that Grete’s young body can finally be stretched out for the first time in her existence, her “resurrection” must be judged to be a farce; for all that she has gained is what she and her family secretly desired from the start: freedom from the irritating presence of Gregor. How quickly they forgot how much he had supplied for them! How quickly they forget that his payments kept the debtors away! How quickly they forget that it was he who stowed up savings for the future! How quickly they forgot that he was–one with them in blood! But of course, such “forgetful freedom” is no freedom at all, but biblically, the illusory fallen life which is only death and decay. And in many respects, that is what the Fall represents for us–a “forgetful freedom” of  “independence” from God. The Fall represents forgetting God and getting what we want–forgetting that God, from the beginning, walks with us, and getting the fruit of what we want as if God hadn’t supplied our needs from the beginning. And in the depravity of our think, we even begin thinking we are better off without him.

Fortunately, our God has not only metamorphosized into a living man who dies, but is transfigured, transformed, and exalted through his death, resurrection and ascension to the right hand of the Father. And because of this “metamorphosis,” we, too, live in hope of that day when our bodies, though inevitably to become a carcass like Gregor’s, will be “stretched out” anew when our Lord returns.

Avery Cardinal Dulles (1918-2008)

As reported over at Faith and Theology, Roman Catholic theologian Avery Cardinal Dulles [pronounced "Dull-us", I believe] has passed away at age 90. I have used and refer to Dulles’ book, Models of the Church often in my own ecclesiology classes. His method of using “models” helps to give a broad picture to differing ways of viewing the Church. I also enjoyed his Models of Revelation. The New York Times obituary can be found here. Avery Dulles was the son of John Foster Dulles, the secretary of state under President Dwight D. Eisenhower.

Some Karl Barth humor

Yesterday, I commemorated the 40th anniversary of Barth’s death. Yet Christians know that death is not the end; we anticipate the joyful day of the resurrection of the body. Karl Barth, I think, anticipated that the kingdom of God will be a place filled with joy and laughter!

Humor and joy aren’t precisely the same thing, but as Prof. Migliore has argued (in his excellent little article entitled, “Karl Barth: Theologian with a Sense of Humor,“),  humor arises out of the partial presence of the Kingdom as we recognize that things still aren’t entirely as they should be. As Migliore puts it, “Joy will find its fulfillment in God’s new heaven and new earth; humor belongs to a world between the times.”  (See also Prof. Hunsinger’s article on Barth’s wit and wisdom)].

I especially liked Migliore’s insightful description of the nature of humor: 

Humor often arises from the experienced discrepancy between reality and appearance, from the distance between what we pretend we are and what others know us to be, or between what others imagine us to be and what we know of ourselves.

In the spirit of humor so described above, I attach below a couple of “Karl Barth photo mash-ups” which I offer as examples of the “experienced discrepancy between reality [the historical context of the original photos themselves] and appearance [how they could be mistakenly understood in humorous ways].”

Or maybe you can suggest some better captions??? Enjoy! 

Barth in America, 1962

Barth and M. L. King, Jr., 1962

Commemorating Karl Barth’s Death (1886-1968)

It was on this day exactly 40 years ago, on December 10, 1968, that Karl Barth died. So, I come out of hiding today briefly to pay tribute to this date.

I’ve been asked to give a guest lecture in a “History of Modern Evangelicalism” class this Friday on “Karl Barth and Evangelicals.” As I planned for this, I was reminded of Barth’s final written words, found on a manuscript he  was working on the evening before. I think that what Barth wrote here is entirely fitting to be applied in tribute to him.

In the church that is in the process of turning round the saying is true that ‘God is not the God of the dead but of the living.’ ‘All live to him,’ from the apostles to the earlier and later fathers. They have not only the right [but also the relevance] to be heard today, not uncritically, not in automatic subjection, but still attentively. The church would not be the church in conversion if, proud and content with its sense of the present hour, it would not listen to them, or would do so only occasionally, loosely, and carelessly, or if it were to rob what it has to learn from them of all its effect by [accepting] what they want to say to it . . . {The sentence breaks off here, incomplete}

-Karl Barth, Final Testimonies, ed. Eberhard Busch, trans. Geoffrey Bromiley, Eerdmans, 1977, p. 60.

Karl Barth was not, to put it mildly, overly impressed with American evangelical/fundamentalist critics who denounced his work. Fortunately, there were a few exceptions such as E. J. Carnell of Fuller Seminary who was the only “evangelical” theologian allowed to ask a question of Barth at his Princeton lectures in 1962. And though Carnell did so respectfully, it was, to use Barth’s own words above, “not uncritically, not in automatic subjection, but still attentively.”

I believe this is how evangelicals need to hear and read Barth today. Not uncritically, and not in automatic subjection to this theological giant, but with an attentiveness to learn. We need not agree with everything that Barth said, and we can even loudly disagree with him where we need to, but listen we should.

Thank you, Dr. Karl Barth, for the evidence you left of your belief in the truth that God is a God not of the dead, but of the living. This is especially meaningful to me as I remember my own father’s passing in December 2003. My Dad also believed in this God, and I, too, confess my belief in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

So thank you, Dr. Barth, for your magnificient vision of the self-revealing God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ as we find it in your Church Dogmatics. The angels may laugh when they remember old Karl’s wheelbarrow of Dogmatics, but we who remain marvel still at their breadth, depth, and insight. Thank you. And to cite a favour epilogue of your own: Veni Creator Spiritus!