The Point of a “Non-dialectical dialectic”

Those somewhat familiar with the secondary literature on Karl Barth know that at least since the mid-1990’s (and especially in the English speaking world since the publication of Bruce McCormack’s ground-breaking work) he is commonly understood as exhibiting a “thoroughgoing dialectical theology.” Now, for those who may scratch their heads at what exactly a “dialectic” is, I would suggest that the two poles of a magnet provide a good analogy.  That is, there is no magnet without both a North pole and a South pole. You cannot ask, “Which pole is more important–North or South?” (Well, I suppose you can ask it, but sometimes there are wrong questions!) This is because you can’t reduce a magnet to either pole; its nature as a magnet depends upon upholding the reality of these supposedly ‘opposite’ ends. (I would say that another a good example of a dialectic is the nature of humanity, which consists of both male and female; you can’t reduce humanity beyond this irreducible minimum of the male and female gender. Human is to be male and female, different yet indivisibly one.)

The more you read Karl Barth, the more you see this “dialecticism” at work throughout his thought, and one is in danger of misinterpreting Barth if one fails to see how consistently Barth upholds two sides, two perspectives, two poles, etc. on many given issues. Consequently, works like the “pre-McCormack” book by Charles Waldrop (Karl Barth’s Christology: Its Basic Alexandrian Character) ultimately fail to convince because of a failure to see Barth’s thorough going dialecticism. (Waldrop asks whether Barth’s Christology is more Antiochene or more Alexandrian in character, and concludes in favour of the Alexandrian. But as Hunsinger points out, “When Barth’s theology has been classified as other than Chalcedonian, it is alleged that he succumbs to one or another of [the Antiochene or Alexandrian] extremes.” (Hunsinger, Disruptive Grace, 134))

But as “predictable” as Barth’s dialecticism may be, there are times when Barth concsiously seems to be grasping to find other ways to speak of these “double elements.” An example of this occurs in CD IV.3.2. Barth points out that traditional scholastic discussions distinguished  between vocation (or more accurately, “calling”) as “internal vs. external,” “mediate vs. immediate,” or “once-for-all vs. continuous.” He then goes on to say that these distinctions, while perhaps helpful to an extent, cannot be allowed to be separated in the unity of vocation as a unified, single work of God. To speak of an external calling isolated from an internal is empty; to speak of a mediate calling apart from immediate sets up an extra level of mediation apart from the one mediator. But especially when it comes to the “once-for-all” vs. the “continuous” aspects of calling, Barth is adamant that both are true. Yes, there is a time in the life history of a human in which he or she is awakened from the slumber of death, and yet it is also true that this awakening continues throughout that person’s life. Both are true, and denial of either element, or favoring one over the other, leads one down an errant path. Yet, as Barth says, “To call them paradoxical or dialectical does not help to clarify them” (CD IV.3.2, 520). It is as if, Barth says, that we are dealing with a case of “non-dialectical dialectic” (which, come to think of it, is an unusual kind of dialectic in itself!).

But why is this “dialectic” non-dialectical? It is because, Barth says, vocation–calling–has to do not with our experience of being called, but with the One who calls.  Yes, it is true that we can differentiate and “put into tension” (as we are so apt to say) the once-for-all moment in time of our calling in our history with the ongoing process of being called again and again in our lives. But this differentiation, Barth says, is no tension at all. It is not a “dialectic” nor a “paradox.” This is because vocation is, first and foremost, about the one who calls more than the one who is called: “The living Lord Jesus Christ in the power of His Word and therefore in His Holy Spirit is the Subject who acts in this event” (CD IV.3.2, 519) And, as Barth concludes,

Whether or not we call these statements paradoxical and dialectical, this whole mode of calling . . . is obviously necessary once we consider, and do not cease to consider, that we are concerned with the vocation which is nothing other than the function and work of Jesus Christ in His prophetic office” (CD IV.3.2, 520).

So what is  Barth trying to say when he refuses to call this “dialectic” a “dialectic”? What is the point of a “non-dialectical dialectic”? I think there are two things (of course!) that Barth can help us  to understand:

1) Endless focus upon theological tensions may be an indicator that we have become overly anthropocentric in our outlook. In other words, just because something seems to us as humans to be a tension, a paradox, a dialectic, does not mean that it actually is. In essence, for Barth to point to the limits of dialecticism is to point to our own anthropological limits. Our perception and comprehension of an issue can never be the arbiter for what is ontologically true.

2) But anthropological limits need not be understood simply as something “fallen” or coming about as a result of sin. After all, it is not that we fail to see the “sides” of the issue; indeed, we have often graciously been given revelational glimpses into both sides of an issue, and for that we can be grateful. Rather, it is that we simply cannot grasp the two sides of a dialectic in a single moment of knowing or comprehension. And I contend that we need not blame sin for this limitedness, but simply that we have not been designed, from the beginning, to be able to uphold a dialectic in a non-dialectical way! Nor will we ever be able to do it, even in the eschaton! In other words, our anthropological inability to uphold what appears to be two apparently contradictory (dialectical) ideas together in unity is by no means proof that one must decide for one side or the other.  On the contrary, our inability to uphold a dialectic non-dialectically speaks to our built-in Created need to be reminded, again and again, that our limits have less to do with fallenness or evil, but more to do with what God has created us to be: creatures who are not to live in accordance to our own understanding, but rather creatures who are created to trust and lean upon God’s Word (Cf. Prov. 3:5-6). Eve fell, in other words, when she tried to reconcile how fruit, which was beautiful to the eye, (Gen. 3:6) could be something that God had said was not to be eaten. How can both of these be true?! But of course, both were true, even though Eve couldn’t comprehend the unity of their truth. Thus,  Eve’s failure was to allow one “side” (the beauty of the fruit) of the dialectic to overturn the other (the prohibition to eat of the fruit). Likewise, our failure is not in our inability to overcome the “dialectic”; indeed, we are not created to overcome it in the first place. Rather, we fail when we refuse to allow the dialectic to be an instrument by which we are turned toward, and worship and rely upon, the One in whom Truth is fully unified.

Karl Barth: Reflections on “Revival”

The awakenings of which we might think were not always, and

above all did not always remain, what they were meant to be and

very largely were within their limits and in their own way. It was not

merely that the dynamic of awakening did not always or usually last

long enough, but generally passed quite quickly into a new state of

slumber which made necessary new and often very different

awakenings. More particularly, the dynamic of the newly

experienced and proclaimed process of vocation often forced itself

into the forefront as such even [Page 514] in the initial stages. In

face of the static condition of popular Christianity, it could thus

* practice of piety

assume the form only of the power of generally religious and to that

extent “secular” feelings, excitements and explosions, of particular

experiences of the numinous in terms, e.g., of the majesty of God,

the stringency of a moral commandment or fear of the judgment of

God in death and hell. And in not a few cases it could even take the

form quite simply of the magic fluid of specific personalities

(evangelists, pastors, rulers of deaconesses etc.) and their influence,

and occasionally their lust for power. In such cases there was little

place for the call of the Lord, for dynamic illumination by the

Gospel, or for awakening by His revelation and to His knowledge.

The awakenings could become a ground of offence to both

Christians and non-Christians, obscuring instead of enlightening,

confusing instead of clarifying, leading away from the light of Jesus

Christ instead of to it, and thus bringing new sickness to Christianity

instead of restoring it to health.

Yet even in the worst cases we must not condemn or reject

without asking the following question. Even in the most strange and

perhaps bizarre of such awakenings, is there not concealed and

borne, at least potentially, something of the genuine awakening, of

the real illumination to “the knowledge of the glory of God in the

face of Jesus Christ,” by which we should be stimulated and

reminded, and in which it is more important that we should

participate than simply criticise because of the weak and confused

way in which it is represented? Even the most dreadful conceivable

instances of enthusiastic extravagance surely do not alter the basic

necessity of the concern which they undoubtedly proclaim and may

impart in face of a Christianity, Church and theology continually

overcome by slumber. What would have become of mediaeval

Christendom with all its domes and altars and stained glass and

scholasticism and corpus christianum* so wonderfully represented in

its spiritual and secular head, if Francis and his followers had notentered the scene and initiated such a movement with all its healthy

and less healthy features? What would have become of earlier and

more recent Protestantism on the Continent and in England and

Scotland, and what could it possibly be to-day, without the great and

little stirrings and disruptions occasioned by dissenters and

enthusiasts and sectarians of many different kinds? It must not be

forgotten that in respect of its positive substance the Reformation

itself bore very clearly the marks of a revival in its early years, that

Luther and Karlstadt were at first good friends, and that Calvin could

talk of a subita conversio*. Many things would have been very

different and much better to-day if this forward-reaching motif had

not been lost so quickly when the Reformers and their successors

became afraid of their own rashness in the need to secure themselves

and out of aversion to the so-called fanatics.

Karl Barth is not remembered as having had too much good to say about Pietist and Revivalist traditions. But…ok, so he didn’t. (For more on this, see Eberhard Busch’s excellent book on Karl Barth and the Pietists.) However, I came across this fascinating passage in preparation for our weekly Barth reading group. Read on…!

The awakenings of which we might think were not always, and above all did not always remain, what they were meant to be and very largely were within their limits and in their own way. It was not merely that the dynamic of awakening did not always or usually last long enough, but generally passed quite quickly into a new state of slumber which made necessary new and often very different awakenings. . . And in not a few cases it could even take the form quite simply of the magic fluid of specific personalities (evangelists, pastors, rulers of deaconesses etc.) and their influence, and occasionally their lust for power. In such cases there was little place for the call of the Lord, for dynamic illumination by the Gospel, or for awakening by His revelation and to His knowledge. The awakenings could become a ground of offence to both Christians and non-Christians, obscuring instead of enlightening, confusing instead of clarifying, leading away from the light of Jesus Christ instead of to it, and thus bringing new sickness to Christianity instead of restoring it to health.

Yet even in the worst cases we must not condemn or reject without asking the following question. Even in the most strange and perhaps bizarre of such awakenings, is there not concealed and borne, at least potentially, something of the genuine awakening, of the real illumination to “the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ,” by which we should be stimulated and reminded, and in which it is more important that we should participate than simply criticise because of the weak and confused way in which it is represented? Even the most dreadful conceivable instances of enthusiastic extravagance surely do not alter the basic necessity of the concern which they undoubtedly proclaim and may impart in face of a Christianity, Church and theology continually overcome by slumber. What would have become of mediaeval Christendom with all its domes and altars and stained glass and scholasticism and corpus christianum [Christian society] so wonderfully represented in its spiritual and secular head, if Francis and his followers had notentered the scene and initiated such a movement with all its healthy and less healthy features? What would have become of earlier and more recent Protestantism on the Continent and in England and Scotland, and what could it possibly be to-day, without the great and little stirrings and disruptions occasioned by dissenters and enthusiasts and sectarians of many different kinds? It must not be forgotten that in respect of its positive substance the Reformation itself bore very clearly the marks of a revival in its early years . . . . Many things would have been very different and much better to-day if this forward-reaching motif had not been lost so quickly when the Reformers and their successors became afraid of their own rashness in the need to secure themselves and out of aversion to the so-called fanatics.

Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV.3.2, pp. 513-4.

Professors’ Availability in Graduate Theology Programs

Though already a few months old, I just stumbled upon R. R. Reno’s musings on what to look for in a graduate program in theology as found in the online edition of First Things. (Reno is associate professor of theology at Creighton University). In essence, Reno advocates for a program that will keep you breathless academically, i.e., one that won’t let you settle into mediocrity.  But he also rightly cautions:

Graduate students need professors they can trust to give time and attention to mentoring.

And right after this,

The moral character of a program matters a great deal. An uneven academic climate can be overcome by the special chemistry that can develop between an excellent mentor and a few really good professors and fellow graduate students. A culture of selfishness among faculty that leads to the neglect and poor treatment of graduate students—this is fatal.

As I’ve talked to students at various points who are either looking at a Masters or Doctoral program in one of the theological disciplines, I’ve made a similar point. While there is no doubt something fantastic about big theological departments or faculties that can offer dozens of advanced and specialized electives (I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit covetous about those situations!), in the end all of those electives can begin to taste a bit sour in the academic mouth if your professors don’t have the time of day for you. The size of the school doesn’t necessarily mean anything here. I’ve heard from students in large schools with dozens of professors report about the good one-to-one relationships they have with some of their professors, and I’ve also heard of students in very small schools where the professors lock themselves up in their office (or aren’t in their office at all) and seem to excel at avoiding students. What matters is, as Reno calls it, the “chemistry” or “academic climate” of the school. This is extremely important to discern long before you enroll.

So if you are one of those people looking for a grad program in theology or biblical studies, let me just build a little on Reno here: In addition to finding out about the faculty’s areas of specialty, locate and have  a conversation with some students who have studied with the professors under which you are interested in studying. Find out how often the professors were able to meet with them, and to what extent they were truly personally, intellectually and spiritually available to their students. Of course, professors are usually busy, busy people, and so you need to be realistic on what you can expect; almost no one has an extra dozen hours a week to hang around with you for one-to-one mentoring. Nevertheless,  if the professors can only see students on the rarest of occasions, that factor alone should be enough to give you pause. Is it the definitive factor? Not necessarily. But in the end, if you do a graduate degree in a theological discipline and come out feeling isolated and more individualistically inclined than you may already be–you might want to think twice.

When I was looking for a doctoral program, I sought to meet the professors who I was interested in studying under long before I applied at her or his school. I had about 6 names in mind, and had opportunity to sit down for a meal with 3 of those. Though it was not the only consideration, having had spent time with my supervisor over a meal was a significant factor in helping me decide to apply at the university where he was.

Galatians 6:6 says, “Anyone who receives instruction in the word must share all good things with his instructor” (NIV). By all means! But at least part of the ability to share all good things with the instructor must come from the instructor’s availability to her or his students. If a professor doesn’t appear to be willing to be available to you, why would you want to study with her or him?

Frustration with Biblical scholars–and theologians

For a fantastic quotation from A. H. N. Green-Armytage about “the world of biblical scholars” in contrast to the rest of the world, I encourage you to  jump over to Eric Ortlund’s blog.

But lest I become a bit too smug or look too far down my nose at the biblical scholars, I admit that there is significant parallel to what could be said about theologians as well. Though I’m not entirely sure how to represent the perspective of “the rest of the world” in contrast to the theologians’ world, I do sometimes feel similar frustrations, as a theologian, with the “theologians’ world” in which I find myself living.  For example:

• In our theologians’ world, precision over the meaning of a word means life and death, salvation or damnation. In the rest of the world,  everyday synonyms and roughly equivalent ideas work just fine in daily conversation and in living the Christian life.
• In our theologians’ world, we are apt to evaluate an idea on the basis of its theological provenance, designating an idea flawed (or even heretical) if it even it only remotely smacks of in similarity to our perceived theological enemies. (“It is clear you have been unduly influenced by Origen/Schleiermacher/Hegel/Calvin/Barth/Augustine/Luther/[insert one's own theological enemy here]“!) In the rest of the world, ideas are rarely accepted or rejected with such a critical eye on their origin.
• In our theologians’ world, we are ever mindful of being the ones who carefully traverse the blessed middle way (precipice?) between those fundamentalist radicals over there vs. the dangerous liberals over there. (I’m convinced that all of us assume that our theology is a perfect middle way between those on our right and left. For a recent example of this tiresome “via media” approach, see here. )
• In our theologians’ world, we tend to worry a whole lot more about what 10 or 20 other theologians  might think of what we say or write than making sure that the 3 or 4 people in our family, or the 50, 100 or 200 people in our congregation have a better knowledge of the God whom they serve.

Don’t hear me wrongly: Professional theologians (and biblical scholars) are required, and ought to, worry about theological issues in ways that ‘everyone else’ doesn’t have to. My point isn’t to denigrate the work of theologians (I am one, after all!), but simply to remind us (and my theological students and colleagues) not to be surprised when the average Christian raises a suspicious eyebrow about what it is that we do! (If that is your concern, then I recommend one of John Stackhouse’s recent posts entitled, “What good are theologians?”)

How do (Canadian) evangelicals vote?

A new article from the online journal Church and Faith Trends examines Canadian evangelical voting “intentions” from 1996-2008. (The author notes that the data being used is taken from pre-election polls that indicate “voter intention” rather than actual “voting practice.”  i.e., We do not have access to data of for which parties evangelical voters actually end up voting, but pre-election polls about what a voter intends to vote surely tells us something important, even if some people change their mind in the voting booth!)

Among various observations, at least three in the study are worth noting:

1. Canadian evangelicals vote very much in accord with the larger regional trends, with only slight preferences given toward “right of centre” parties. The article breaks down voting preferences from four national regions (Western, Ontario, Quebec, and Atlantic) and shows that by and large, the evangelical vote is proportionally distributed amongst the major political parties relative to larger voting preferences.
2. The Liberal Party of Canada has seen a significant drop in evangelical support in the last four years, but not necessarily for reasons one might expect. That is, the author of the article argues that loss of evangelical support for the Liberal Party probably has more to do with ways in which the Liberals have alienated evangelicals than what right of centre parties (such as the Conservatives) are doing to gain evangelicals’ confidence.
3. Evangelicals who have left their support for the Liberal Party behind do not automatically go the Conservative Party, despite the fact that much of the mainstream media would like us to believe this. In fact, many evangelicals have thrown their support behind the NDP, Green Party, and in Quebec, the Bloc.
4. As one might expect, evangelicals do place “moral issues” (like abortion and same-sex marriage) high on their list of priorities as an election approaches. However, it is also true that, for example, in 2008 50% of evangelicals polled cited the “economy” as being one of the most important electoral issues.

So what do we make of all this?

On the one hand, this study clearly demonstrates that generalizations about Canadian evangelical voters at large are difficult to make. As the author notes, “Canadian Evangelical Christians do not vote as a bloc.”

On the other hand, the study also indicates that evangelicals vote pretty much like the rest of the populace, with only a small measure of them voting with greater preference for the right of centre parties. I don’t know whether that says something about the heterogeneity of evangelical political perspectives, or whether that says something about the homogeneity of the political platforms of the major Canadian political parties, all of which are, at the end of the day, clustered pretty much at the centre of the political spectrum. Evangelicals, in other words, vote across the whole spectrum of political parties because they are, after all, so much alike.

Of course, there are alternative parties for evangelicals to vote for. The Christian Heritage Party (CHP), for example, claims to be “Canada’s only pro-Life, pro-family federal political party.” Yet that does not seem to be enough to persuade evangelicals to vote enmasse for them. Why? It’s hard to say for sure, but I suspect that it is at least because most evangelicals would view it as nigh unto impossible ever to see a government formed under such a platform as the CHP. Or it might simply be that evangelicals, by and large, as interested as they might be in the so-called “moral issues” are also interested in the broader economic, international, health, and environmental issues. True, a party like CHP does in fact have a platform on some of these issues, but again, I suspect most evangelicals are wary of voting for these candidate because they are unconvinced that their vote would actually result in elected MPs, let alone a government.

The greater point, I think, is that evangelicals vote much like the general populace because we all have, to one extent or another, been duped into thinking that the best way to enact political change is accomplished through the exercise of political power. It seems to me that “getting elected” is the number one priority of every major political party these days. Their platforms are designed, in other words, first to get elected, and only secondarily to accomplish political ends. In this sense, we have actually moved backward in our political understanding toward a more hierarchical monarchist view of government. That is, the monarch traditionally “ruled” and had a council of advisers who were an extension of the accomplishment of his or her political political agenda. Similarly, it seems that much political maneouvering in Canada (and I suspect in an even greater way for our neighbors to the south) is about forming a government that can be a political extension of the party, rather than viewing parliament as a government and opposition which is meant to be a forum of what Oliver O’Donovan calls “public deliberation.”

All this is to say that perhaps we (evangelicals and Canadians at large) have to be re-taught about why it is that we elect a government, and politicians need to be recalled to be reminded that their role is not ultimately to gain power, but together as government and opposition to deliberate political proposals in light of fundamental questions about the public’s common good. As long as politicians and political parties have as their main goal the attainment of political power, evangelicals (and all Canadians) will continue to vote on their perceptions of which party will serve me as an individual best, rather than on the basis of which political party and candidates are most likely to do a good job of critically assessing and judging political options in order to enact those measure which are truly best for the country’s citizens.

Why all the little beards?

Here’s something a little off the theological track: An analysis of the “new evangelicalism” from the perspective of…facial hair. The article is entitled, “Icons of the New Evangelicalism” and is subtitled, “Why all the little beards?”

In this provocative little article over at Killing the Buddha (subtitled, “the medium is the messiah”), author John D. Boy reflects upon the meaning and significance of the presence of goatees on the chins of influential evangelicals such as Rick Warren, Brian McLaren (yes, he’s included!) and Doug Pagitt (and formerly Mark Driscoll, who apparently has now ditched the whiskers). Boy cites the French literary critic Roland Barthes as his theoretical starting point:  “Among priests, it is not due to chance whether one is bearded or not.” According to Boy, Rick Warren’s choice not to shave at the inauguration ceremony of Barack Obama, “suggests a pointed attempt to remake the evangelical iconography.”

Though I encourage you to take a few minutes to read the article yourself (some pretty probing and intelligent questions are asked here), in the end Boy echoes the question of Theodor Adorno, the German social critic, whether “the beard is the oppositionist costume of juveniles acting like cavemen who refuse to play along with the cultural swindle while in fact they merely don the old-fashioned emblem of the patriarchal dignity of their grandfathers.” Ouch!

There is an old saw  (that I could not source–anyone?) that says you could discern the theological bent of a theologian by what he did or didn’t smoke. (And yes, the pronoun is “he” here, because at the time the joke was making its rounds, well, there just weren’t a lot of “she” theologians) So, the maxim goes, if a theologian didn’t smoke at all, he was clearly fundamentalist.  If he smoked cigarettes, he was liberal. Pipe-smokers, of course, were neo-orthodox, cigar smokers were Chestertonian, and those who smoked cigarettes only with a cigarette holder, were influenced by French existentialism. So is there is a new saying emerging that tells us something of one’s theology by the amount or type of facial hair one sports? (It would be interesting experiment to figure out the categories!)

As an aside, it is an interesting phenomenon that historically, beards and moustaches were generally forbidden here in 1960’s and 1970’s when Briercrest College and Seminary was Briercrest Bible Institute (founded in 1935). Indeed, facial hair was generally frowned upon amongst fundamentalists in North American during the hippy era when facial hair represented rebellion against authority. But by the time I entered the college as a student in the mid-1980’s, beards were just beginning to be accepted on faculty, though I clearly remember some basic “do’s and don’ts” about facial hair in the student handbook, along with prohibitions of jeans in the academic building. But I clearly remember that the dean who hired me in 1993 sported a goatee! My how times changed! The question is, is that good or bad?

Oh, by the way, I recently shaved off the ends of my “horseshoe mustache” (though now I’m not sure what style it is). Amazingly, no one seems to have noticed, or else, no one is brave enough to say anything about it to me! My kids haven’t even said anything, even though once they cried when I shaved my moustache off! But my (only half-serious) question to myself is this: Does this act also signal a change to my theology? I’ll expect those who know me well to tell me in the coming months whether behind this recent decision to change my moustache lies an unconscious attempt to reinvent myself and my theology. In other words, is it true, to paraphrase Barthes, “Among theologians, it is not due to chance whether one is moustached/ goatee’d/bearded or not”?

P.S. I was just thinking about how many theologians I know with goatees…eery!

p.s. to 10 Commandments for Theological Students

I’ve had several requests for re-posting and use of the “10 Commandments for Theological Students” post. So I’ve slightly edited it and moved it to a separate page. You can link to it from the “Pages” sidebar, or simply go here.

P.S.S.  I’m not sure why the page title appears at the top above the regular posts. I simply want it listed on the right hand sidebar under “Pages.”  Does anyone know how to change that?

The Calvin Quiz

I came across this fun little “Calvin Quiz” over at Calvin500.com. I admit I guessed at a couple of the questions, but I did not bad (as evidenced below)! I guess I learned something in Seminary after all. Maybe it helped to lead a senior seminar on Calvin a few years ago, as well.

To jump directly to the Calvin quiz, go here. See how you do!

More about John Calvin at Calvin 500

10 Commandments for Theological Students

I will always remember with fondness the German theologian Helmut Thielicke’s (pronounced, “tea’-lick-ah”) little classic entitled, A Little Exercise for Young Theologians. On the opening page, Thielicke explains, “I must see and hear my listeners not only as students but also as souls entrusted to me.” (p. 1)

As I reflected on this, I was reminded once again, as I begin my 17th (!) year of teaching in a theological college and seminary, that those people who sit in my classes are not only students, but souls entrusted to me. As I thought about this, I wondered, “What might I be able to offer to my students at this particular time of year–when everything is fresh and exciting?” Although it may have been done before, I offer here my own version of the 10 Commandments for Theological Students.

1) You shall have no other god before God. I cannot bring myself to alter the substance of this first commandment. As Karl Barth put it in a famous article in 1933, the first commandment is in fact the first axiom of all theology. In other words, theological students must never forget that God is the central object of our study in theology. As important as Scripture, tradition, history, and ancient texts are, in the end, theological study that forgets that theology is about God has lost its way already. In short, the first commandment for theological study is to remember that God is a Subject who freely gives himself in Jesus Christ as an object of our study and reflection, but that a proper response must be finally one of worship–worship before  the Incomprehensible, Immeasureable Holy One who cannot be captured in our words, sentences, and theological papers, and yet who condescends to be known by sinning humans.  We dare not forget this most important of all axioms: The focus of study for theological students is–God. Yes, theological students will face the demands of long hours of poring over the biblical text, memorizing Greek conjugations, deciphering the difference between enhypostasis and anhypostasis, and learning how to do exegesis, homiletics, and administration. But a theological student should never forget that all of this is for naught if theology is not ultimately concerned about–God.

2) You shall not create a theological idol. Anyone who engages in formal theological study for any amount of time realizes that one’s preferences for some authors, scholars, theologians, or exegetes tend to narrow significantly over time. This is, at least in part, the practical reality of the theological disciplines: No one can master or read the work of everyone even within a narrow sub-discipline. Consequently, we tend to have our favorites. Now, you’ve either been under a rock, or you simply don’t know me all that well if you haven’t figured out that my favourite theologian is Karl Barth. Yours might be N.T. Wright or John Calvin or Augustine or Walter Brueggeman. The point is, beware of allowing that favourite to become a theological “pin up”–an idol, to use the biblical parlance.

True, I have no problem confessing my great admiration for the work of Karl Barth, and I read him more than any other theologian. But I also have learned that the best way to avoid idolizing a theologian is to read the opponents as well. For all my disagreements with Brunner, for example, I think that at several crucial points he had things more clearly thought out than Barth. And that helps me to remember that for all his genius, Karl Barth, too, was a sinner and was, like us all, prone to error.

But most importantly, see commandment #1 above: theological study must finally be about God, not about Barth or NT Wright, or John Zizioulos, however thankful I am for these faithful scholars. Unfortunately, it is the case that sometimes theological students become “experts” on theologians and scholars and consequently miss the main point of all theological study: to know God and his benefits, and to proclaim him to others, like us, in need of his grace.

3) You shall not take the name of other sub-disciplines in vain. It is almost inevitable that theological students will eventually assume that their chosen sub-discipline (whether systematic theology, historical theology, biblical exegesis, pastoral theology, church history, ethics, liturgics,  or some other sub-discipline) is in some way superior to all others. At such points, it can be easy for theological students to become contemptuous toward students in other disciplines; but this should not be so. For in the end, the compendium of theological disciplines is analogous to the Body of Christ: Every member ultimately needs the other, even if we might secretly think that some parts are more honorable than others.  Theologians need exegetes, and exegetes need historians, and historians need ethicists, and ethicists need homileticians. Rather than peering/sneering down our noses at those in other disciplines and scorning their work, I would encourage you to learn to discipline yourself to read at least one book in a discipline not your own for every ten that you read in your own. You might be surprised that they have something to teach you!

4) Remember to  put to rest–temporarily–your critical theological skills while worshipping. Even though the object of inquiry in theological study is ultimately none other than God himself (see Commandment #1), theological students must learn the discipline of worshipping God while temporarily suspending their newly emerging theological critical skills. This is especially important when the sermon is being delivered Sunday morning. Though you might see all your pastor’s exegetical fallacies, call into question his intertextual references, and be puzzled by the lack of good homiletical structure in his sermon, you must learn to temporarily put to rest your critical acuities, and try to remember that like everyone else gathed together in the Lord’s House on the Lord’s Day, the Person on display is God in Jesus Christ, not the pastor or the worship leader or the Sunday school teacher. You have, after all, come to worship God and to hear from him, not to assign a grade. Of course, your training will inevitably train you to see theological problems. That is a good thing. But remember that God has appointed pastors and teachers to have  spiritual charge over us, and theological discipline includes the ability to learn from even imperfect preachers. Because after all, you may well be one of those imperfect pastors and teachers yourself someday as well.
Oh, and while I’m at it: Remember the exhortation from Hebrews 10:25: “Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” For some reason, theological students can be easily deceived into thinking, “I study Scripture and think about God all week long. I don’t need to be involved in a local body of believers on Sunday as well.” This is simply wrong, and I encourage you to resist the temptation to be a “Bedside Baptist” during the course of your theological study.  If anything, regular involvement in a local church keeps our feet grounded in the community where the theologically educated are most needed. If there is a suspicion amongst the rank and file church goers of our day about formal theological education, it may in part be because of how often theological students account for so many of the empty spots in the pews on Sunday morning. The logic may be flawed, but it is hard to avoid the connection that so often, theological students are the least likely to be in Church, so therefore, theological education must be bad. Don’t contribute to that flawed logic. Be in Church next Sunday!

5) Honour your theological fathers and mothers. At one level, theological students simply need to learn to respect and honour the wisdom of their professors, even at times when it sounds like they might seem to be completely off-base and, indeed, theologically suspect in comparison with one’s pastor or mentor back home. Don’t get me wrong here: I’m not saying that theological professors are perfect–by no means. I know too many of them myself, and I happen to see one in the mirror every morning when I shave! But beyond honouring your teachers (they, after all, have typically committed something like 8 or 12 years after high school of study to prepare for their role) be sure also to honour your theological fathers and mothers back home as well. It can be an awful show of disrespect, after a year or two of theological education, to begin to look down one’s nose at those pastors and elders back home who may not have had the same privileges you have had, and to begin to judge them harshly for their lack of theological and biblical sophistication. In such cases, never forget that it these same “simple” pastors and teachers and elders and parents back home who are truly your spiritual fathers and mothers. It is far too easy to become a theological critic; it is far more difficult (and the sign of theological maturity) to be able to appreciate and still learn from those from whom you may have already passed in theological sophistication!

6) You shall not verbally, intellectually, or rhetorically murder your theological opponent. For the most part, theological students seem to manage to avoid physically killing one another in the heat of a theological debate. (Although in the history of Christianity, there have been some exceptions!)  But my experience tells me that almost all of us (including me) will not hesitate to pull out all the stops in the heat of a theological argument. We will use every resource at hand to squash (“metaphorically murder”) our opponents. It is during those intense moments of theological debate (which, by the way, I happen to think can be very healthy) that one needs constantly to check oneself to make sure that it is the truth that one is after, and not simply the desire to win the argument at all costs. To paraphrase the Apostle, “If I decimate my theological opponent in the pursuit of truth, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or clanging symbol.” (Cf. 1 Cor 13:1) Unfortunately, in 17 years of theological education, I have more than once seen Christian fellowship broken over what really amounted to either a trivial, or unwinnable theological argument. This isn’t to commend avoiding theological arguments at all costs: Indeed, we probably need more theological debate these days than less!  But always remember that ultimately, the goal of a theological argument should be more often irenical than polemical: It is for the building up of the Body, not the utter destruction of our theological detractors.

7) Do your utmost to say out of bed with the “spirit of the age.” In 1 Tim 4:1, Paul warns, “the Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons.” This is one of those commandments that is of uttermost importance to heed, but so easy to fall into breaking. Just as we live in an age where we are bombarded daily in the media with images and suggestions to follow our base sexual desires, so, too, theological students enter a realm where daily (or at least more often than the average layperson) there is a temptation to chase after the latest theological, philosophical, or cultural fads–all in the name of being “theologically relevant” or “up to date” or “theologically sophisticated.” Of course, it is not always easy to sort out which ideas are truly “things taught by demons” from “the truth of the Spirit.” Subtlety is, of course, one of Satan’s own tools of deception. Most of us are not caught off guard by the obviously false things, but all of us are, from time to time, tempted to get into bed with the spirit of the age, and to commit theological adultery.

So how do we avoid this falling into this temptation? Well, at one level, this is what theological education is all about–learning to discern truth from error, and to use Scripture properly to make those judgements. But in the end, keeping commandment #6 means, at least in part, learning whom to trust, and that means listening to the wisdom of teachers whom you know have demonstrated a consistent walk with the Lord, and from whom you can also learn. Oh, and pray a lot, too! As the ancients used to say, “Lex orandi, lex credendi” [The Law of Prayer is the Law of Belief].

8 ) You shall not steal time from others which is rightfully theirs. You might have thought that the eighth commandment  for the theological student might be a good place to mention something about plagiarism. As all students quickly learn, it is an academic sin, whether in Christian or secular settings, to steal ideas from others and to call them your own. That’s a good thing to remember. So don’t plagiarize.

But I think that far too often, theological students can easily end up stealing something other than just others’ ideas. What? Their time. Speaking from personal and painful experience, I did two theological degrees while married, and I can without any pride at all confess that sometimes, my theological work simply was an excuse to steal time from my wife–time that really was rightfully hers, but which I justified as being not as important as time spend studying theology. Fortunately, I have an awesome and forgiving wife who has taught me much (though I am still learning) about what it really means to give of one’s time for someone else. Practically, this means that even though you are doing something really, really important (I can’t think of many more things more important in life than to set aside a portion of one’s life in focused study of Scripture and of the knowledge of God), being a theological student does not give you license to steal time from your spouse or family. If you are married, it is better to end up as a “B” student with a strong marriage, than an “A” student and divorced. In short, be prepared to resist the temptation at times to steal time from your loved ones, even though the studies you are engaged in are all about God. Here I think of Malachi’s lament:

Another thing you do: You flood the LORD’s altar with tears. You weep and wail because he no longer pays attention to your offerings or accepts them with pleasure from your hands. You ask, “Why?” It is because the LORD is acting as the witness between you and the wife of your youth, because you have broken faith with her, though she is your partner, the wife of your marriage covenant. (Mal. 2:13-14)

We may think we are pleasuring God with our wonderful theological papers and argument, and I want to affirm that indeed, God is pleased with such offerings when offered in faith. But such offerings can quickly become a stench in God’s nostrils when we break faith with our spouses in order to produce them. It is then that, fearfully, the Lord will act as a witness against us. Lord, help us!

9) You shall not misrepresent your opponent’s theological position. We all have theological opponents, and we seem to get more of them the more we engage in theological study. But theological students must learn the very difficult discipline of speaking and writing truthfully of the position of those with whom we disagree. The problem is that the opponents we most want to debunk are likely guilty of breaking this commandment themselves. The reason we are so adamantly opposed to them is because they have misrepresented us, or our favourite theologians or authors, in some way. So the temptation is to fight fire with fire. Rather than carefully showing where our opponents are indeed right on some accounts, and wrong in others, we have a built-in carnal desire to present their work as something reprehensible and utterly false. Philosopher’s call this “constructing a straw man.” Theologically, it simply is called “lying” or “bearing false witness.”  While theoretically, it may in fact be possible that there are utter liars and heretics writing and teaching out there, those aren’t usually the one’s that concern us the most. Indeed, it is the ones who have elements of truth in what they are saying that we can be the most tempted to label and libel. On the contrary, the sign of theological maturity is the ability to concede and acknowledge the truth of parts of our opponents’ arguments, even while patiently recounting why the other parts of their argument are faulty. Unfortunately, such an approach takes great patience, lots of time, and a great deal of Spirit-enabled love–something that most of us are in all too short supply.

10) You shall not covet someone else’s library. I may be speaking only from personal experience here, but I suspect that a common temptation, especially among theological students, is to surpass your neighbor’s library, either in quantity (“I have more commentaries on John’s Gospel than George”) or at least in quality (“Henry may have a lot of books, but most of it is fluff! I only buy books of enduring value”).  This isn’t to say that you ought not to buy books. In fact, I have a hard time understanding how some students (and even pastors) are proud of the fact that they have so few books! Books are, after all, the tools of the trade for those seeking to be engaged in the ministry of the Word. But those same necessary tools can so easily become a snare and a trap. We see our neighbor’s library shelf, or the latest theology text, or yet another book on Barth (guilty!) and we think we need to have it. Let’s face it, folks: This is the sin of coveteousness more often than we may care to admit.

So what am I commending here? I’m not saying stop buying books, but I am saying, get in the habit of counting to at least 10 (or 20 or 30!) before plunking down the cash for yet another book. I speak here of one who is guilty of having many too many books on my shelf that I have not yet read! Or better yet, see if you can borrow the book from a library instead of buying it. If after reading it you still think you need it, fine–go ahead and buy it if you can. But don’t get trapped into buying books for the sake of buying books. Take this from one who has been learning this lesson the hard way over the past years!

Dissertation to monograph: Some lessons

I’m pretty happy to be able to report that today I submitted the indices and final corrections on the galley proofs of my book entitled, Karl Barth on the Filioque. The book is part of a larger series simply called “Barth Studies.” If all goes well, the book should be rolling off the press in the next month or two!  For a description of the book from the Ashgate site, go here.

So here are five things (three a bit more serious, two less so) I learned about transforming a dissertation into a published monograph:

1)  Start thinking about and planning for the Index from day one of the process if you are required to supply it on your own.  I wish I had kept track of how many hours I spent completing this laborious task! I just know it adds lots and lots of hours at a point in the project when you think that you are nearly done! In other words, you really shouldn’t say, “Oh, I’m done the book. All I have to do is create an index.” That’s like saying, “Oh, I have the wood for the house. All I have to do is nail it together!”

Oh, and don’t assume that indexing software will necessarily make the job go likety-split. I did use a demo version of a program called Textract that helped get me going, but even after the software has done its initial magic, there is still a lot of work to do.

2) Even if you are only going to be doing minimal editing (rather than extensive revising or adding of sections), be prepared for some surprises that will take a lot longer than you expect. My own project was actually on the “minimal editing” end of the spectrum, but I still ended up doing significant revision of a couple sections, and adding a new six or seven page section that I felt simply couldn’t not be included. Again, this meant a significant number of hours.

3) Between the time that you finish the dissertation and the time that you begin working on the monograph, keep a separate bibliography of new sources that come up that may need to be incorporated. Even though the gap between completion of the dissertation and the publication of the monograph for me was only three years, I still ended up having to do some significant searching through my own files and additional research to ensure I wasn’t missing something significant that had come up in the meantime. Even though I didn’t add too many more sources, I still did end up appending some. Had I kept an ongoing bibliography in the intervening time, this would have saved me a lot of work.

As for a couple less serious things I learned and recommend to you:

4) Take at least some time to marvel at how it is possible for a manuscript to have been read dozens of times by several different sets of eyes (including professional editors), and yet still end up with over 50 corrections needed in the final galley proofs! Nevertheless, despite the marvel of this impossible possibility, I won’t be surprised if there are still a few errors in the final copy!

5) Try not to cry too much when you find out that Amazon.ca is listing your book to retail at $117.31! (But here’s the good news, folks: If you pre-order a copy of my book today, you can get it for $68.61! What a steal of a deal! So you might as well  buy an extra copy the kids and grandkids, too!)