Another question for you today, dear readers.
How could this blog be useful, helpful, interesting, for you?
To put it another way, what would you like to see in this blog?
30 August 2012
29 August 2012
what place is there?
No odd theological ideas today. Just a question of personal significance:
I have a doctorate in theology. I've taught in Finland as a professor of church history, and as a lecturer in Orthodox systematic theology and patristics. I've been the head of an Orthodox theological institute affiliated to Cambridge University. I've got twenty years' teaching experience at the postgraduate and undergraduate levels.
It appears that there is no place in Finland, in either academia or church, where I can use my education and experience. The doors appear to be closed to me. I have not worked in academic theology since July 2007. I have been unemployed for the greater part of the past five years.
Is there a place here where I can offer what I have to give? Or should I admit defeat and give up theology for something else?
I have a doctorate in theology. I've taught in Finland as a professor of church history, and as a lecturer in Orthodox systematic theology and patristics. I've been the head of an Orthodox theological institute affiliated to Cambridge University. I've got twenty years' teaching experience at the postgraduate and undergraduate levels.
It appears that there is no place in Finland, in either academia or church, where I can use my education and experience. The doors appear to be closed to me. I have not worked in academic theology since July 2007. I have been unemployed for the greater part of the past five years.
Is there a place here where I can offer what I have to give? Or should I admit defeat and give up theology for something else?
28 August 2012
anthropology, prophecy, ethics
More thinking out loud . . .
Christians believe that human beings are created in the image of God. Is there a place for the prophetic as much as the sapiential in an Orthodox theological anthropology? In other words, is it possible to speak of God, wisdom, and prophecy when delineating what it means to be made in God's image? Of course, Orthodox theology makes a distinction between the image and the likeness of God, which adds, it seems to me, a teleological dimension to the discussion.
Christians believe that human beings are created in the image of God. Is there a place for the prophetic as much as the sapiential in an Orthodox theological anthropology? In other words, is it possible to speak of God, wisdom, and prophecy when delineating what it means to be made in God's image? Of course, Orthodox theology makes a distinction between the image and the likeness of God, which adds, it seems to me, a teleological dimension to the discussion.
27 August 2012
Orthodoxy and modernity
Is it possible for Orthodox theology to come terms with modernity, other than through rejection? I think it is, though the black hole of the culture wars makes the task more difficult than it already was.
26 August 2012
expected knowledge
Realistically, how much knowledge of the Bible and theology do we have the right to expect of church members? Sure, the answer will vary by tradition to some extent.
For me this is a question of how the church does or does not shape or inform the worldview of church members. For example, for Orthodox believers, what does it mean in everyday life that the Eucharist is a sacrifice? That they feast on the Word of God made flesh? Does it have any everyday significance?
For me this is a question of how the church does or does not shape or inform the worldview of church members. For example, for Orthodox believers, what does it mean in everyday life that the Eucharist is a sacrifice? That they feast on the Word of God made flesh? Does it have any everyday significance?
25 August 2012
Anabaptist Orthodox?
In the past twenty years a few people in the Anabaptist tradition began a dialogue with the Catholic church. Some of those people eventually became Catholics but without feeling that their having become Catholic was a betrayal of their Anabaptist heritage or theology.
Is such a dialogue possible between Orthodoxy and Anabaptism? The chasms to bridge would of course be different as the Protestant Reformation would not be a shared historical experience to be revisited. But perhaps ecclesiology, relation between church and state, liturgy, and asceticism would be good places to start.
Maybe there's already a dialogue like this happening somewhere? If so, let me know.
Is such a dialogue possible between Orthodoxy and Anabaptism? The chasms to bridge would of course be different as the Protestant Reformation would not be a shared historical experience to be revisited. But perhaps ecclesiology, relation between church and state, liturgy, and asceticism would be good places to start.
Maybe there's already a dialogue like this happening somewhere? If so, let me know.
23 August 2012
more on solitude
We are all "networked" today, in one way or another. To consider solitude is to ask ourselves what sort of connectedness do we live within, and what kind of connectedness it is that we want.
22 August 2012
solitude
I know I'm not the first to say this, but I think it still bears repeating: the problem of solitude is more important than ever in this time when networking and being connected have become the norm for many, and the goal for many more.
Ours is not the first networked age; human beings have lived within complex social networks before now. But the nature of the networks we have now makes solitude more difficult to practice than it already was before the rise of the Internet.
But the issue isn't simply one of it becoming more difficult to find and practice solitude. We need to ask ourselves what the purposes of solitude are today. For whom, and for what purpose, do we seek solitude? How do we relate solitude to connectedness? Is solitude opposed to being networked, or is it complementary? How does solitude relate to the selves we create in our several networks?
Ours is not the first networked age; human beings have lived within complex social networks before now. But the nature of the networks we have now makes solitude more difficult to practice than it already was before the rise of the Internet.
But the issue isn't simply one of it becoming more difficult to find and practice solitude. We need to ask ourselves what the purposes of solitude are today. For whom, and for what purpose, do we seek solitude? How do we relate solitude to connectedness? Is solitude opposed to being networked, or is it complementary? How does solitude relate to the selves we create in our several networks?
18 August 2012
punk prayer 2
To put it in positive terms: the two words can go quite well together. Some of the Psalms can be interpreted in such terms.
And sometimes in the life of the church they must be so linked.
And sometimes in the life of the church they must be so linked.
17 August 2012
Pussy Riot verdict 2
Apparently the Orthodox ecclesiastical authorities in Russia have forgotten about the venerable tradition of the iurod (holy fool). But maybe this is the way the church treated earlier holy fools as well.
16 August 2012
does anybody really want it?
Tonight I took from the shelf a book entitled Mary is for Everyone. As you might gather from the title, it's a collection of essays from authors across a range of Christian traditions on the ecumenical significance of Mary.
I looked through it with some sadness. Its ecumenical orientation is necessary and laudable, but I wondered why all the effort put into this area, as in so many others in the ecumenical arena, have borne so little fruit.
One reason is that most churchgoers really don't want church unity. They fear losing their identity. Another is the persistence, at the grassroots, of stereotypes of other churches. Another is the simple fact that church unity does not equal church growth. When congregation size is fetishized, anything that doesn't increase church membership is eventually dropped like the proverbial hot potato.
I looked through it with some sadness. Its ecumenical orientation is necessary and laudable, but I wondered why all the effort put into this area, as in so many others in the ecumenical arena, have borne so little fruit.
One reason is that most churchgoers really don't want church unity. They fear losing their identity. Another is the persistence, at the grassroots, of stereotypes of other churches. Another is the simple fact that church unity does not equal church growth. When congregation size is fetishized, anything that doesn't increase church membership is eventually dropped like the proverbial hot potato.
15 August 2012
Dormition
Today is the feast of the Dormition of the Mother of God. Marian piety is one of those hot-button issues, for many different theological, historical, philosophical, and sociological reasons. I remember being taught as a youth that we Methodists, unlike our Catholic neighbors, didn't "worship Mary." I think now that comments like that reflected both passing acquaintance with some of the extreme forms of veneration of Mary, and ignorance of what Catholics actually taught about her (this was after Vatican II, mind you).
It's worth pointing out that the magisterial Reformers did not completely do away with devotion to Mary, though over time it died out in the churches of their heirs - though more slowly than one might imagine.
For me, today's feast points to the reality of Christ's humanity. The history of Christian thought shows again and again that the temptation to downplay, relativize, and even deny Christ's full humanity is strong. It seems easier to accept a less-than-human Savior than it is to face the implications of Christ's really being fully human.
As both Catholics and Orthodox teach, and as has also been affirmed by many bilateral and multilateral dialogues on Mary and the saints, authentic Marian piety ultimately points us to Mary's son.
It's worth pointing out that the magisterial Reformers did not completely do away with devotion to Mary, though over time it died out in the churches of their heirs - though more slowly than one might imagine.
For me, today's feast points to the reality of Christ's humanity. The history of Christian thought shows again and again that the temptation to downplay, relativize, and even deny Christ's full humanity is strong. It seems easier to accept a less-than-human Savior than it is to face the implications of Christ's really being fully human.
As both Catholics and Orthodox teach, and as has also been affirmed by many bilateral and multilateral dialogues on Mary and the saints, authentic Marian piety ultimately points us to Mary's son.
13 August 2012
without end
Any theological anthropology written today must necessarily be incomplete. This is because no one work can capture in its entirety the mystery of the human person. Thus theological anthropology must always be a work in progress. This is important to state up front when considering the question of how to write about the human person today. I am starting to think that philosophers who strive for describing diversity rather than static unity are correct. The stuff of human life is too complex and rich to capture in one neat vision.
12 August 2012
anthropology, continued
A theological anthropology today must also take seriously the fact that people are economically determined today. People live their lives demarcated by economic forces that shape their identity as human beings. A theological anthropology is no good if it proposes a vision of human beings alone. It must also take into account the forces today that would define humanity in a very different way than that preached and taught in the church.
11 August 2012
anthropology
I've heard it said that theological anthropology is the subject requiring the most attention in the coming decades. In the context of this conversation, I think that current debates over computationalist views of the human person will be important to take into account. Lanier versus Kelley is what I'm thinking here. More in another post.
10 August 2012
origins
Every person has formative experiences that shape her or his thought. One of mine took place at a Christian summer camp when I was fifteen. Already then I had an interest in liturgy, and had gone to this camp (called Summer Assembly) because a professor of theology was going to give a series of lectures on "Worship in Spirit and in Truth." I ate up the lectures. At the end of the week there was to be a love feast in the evening. It seemed a fitting conclusion to the lectures.
I was the only one from my congregation at the love feast. The professor instructed the class members to divide into small groups to share the bread and cup of the love feast, the better to intensify the fellowship among the class members.
As people split up into groups, I nervously looked around for a group that would welcome me. I moved from group to group. Everyone was so involved in their intimate "fellowship," nobody noticed the lanky kid looking for a welcome. Heartbroken, I left.
You can read this as a story of teen awkwardness, I suppose. And to be sure, I wasn't the most socially adept teen. ;-) But the lesson I took away from that experience was that worship can exclude, can alienate. This experience helped shape my own views on the importance of welcoming the stranger, of hospitality in the liturgical assembly.
I was the only one from my congregation at the love feast. The professor instructed the class members to divide into small groups to share the bread and cup of the love feast, the better to intensify the fellowship among the class members.
As people split up into groups, I nervously looked around for a group that would welcome me. I moved from group to group. Everyone was so involved in their intimate "fellowship," nobody noticed the lanky kid looking for a welcome. Heartbroken, I left.
You can read this as a story of teen awkwardness, I suppose. And to be sure, I wasn't the most socially adept teen. ;-) But the lesson I took away from that experience was that worship can exclude, can alienate. This experience helped shape my own views on the importance of welcoming the stranger, of hospitality in the liturgical assembly.
08 August 2012
feast and fast
To be honest, dear readers, I'm not entirely sure myself where I'm going with all this, so bear with me . . .
Feast and fast, dionysian and apollonian, dance together in the complex rhythm of life. How do we teach that balance? Or is there a balance at all?
Feast and fast, dionysian and apollonian, dance together in the complex rhythm of life. How do we teach that balance? Or is there a balance at all?
07 August 2012
subversive
Two ideas have been in the back of my mind for the past couple of years. Time to get them out of my system and see where they go.
First (and not so new), the act of gathering for Sunday worship as a subversive act, the constitution of the body of Christ in the face of the powers of the world. I know this sounds apocalyptic - perhaps eschatological is a better term? If you've read my posts up till now, maybe asserting this idea about liturgy seems like it flies in the face of what I've said earlier about the goodness of the material world. I don't think the two ideas are in conflict; they're merely in tension. ;-)
Second: in the Byzantine tradition there is a long history of writing commentaries on the Divine Liturgy. It goes back at least as far as Germanos of Constantinople, and it has roots in earlier commentaries on the liturgy of the Eucharist.
Bringing the two together, I want to write a commentary on the Divine Liturgy interpreting it as a subversive act of resistance. Exploring how its materials, texts, gestures, movements use the languages of power, materiality, majesty, kingship, and transcendence to subvert "normal" notions of power and authority, in order to praise the kenotic God who humbled Godself and became human.
First (and not so new), the act of gathering for Sunday worship as a subversive act, the constitution of the body of Christ in the face of the powers of the world. I know this sounds apocalyptic - perhaps eschatological is a better term? If you've read my posts up till now, maybe asserting this idea about liturgy seems like it flies in the face of what I've said earlier about the goodness of the material world. I don't think the two ideas are in conflict; they're merely in tension. ;-)
Second: in the Byzantine tradition there is a long history of writing commentaries on the Divine Liturgy. It goes back at least as far as Germanos of Constantinople, and it has roots in earlier commentaries on the liturgy of the Eucharist.
Bringing the two together, I want to write a commentary on the Divine Liturgy interpreting it as a subversive act of resistance. Exploring how its materials, texts, gestures, movements use the languages of power, materiality, majesty, kingship, and transcendence to subvert "normal" notions of power and authority, in order to praise the kenotic God who humbled Godself and became human.
06 August 2012
anniversary
I preached my first sermon on Sunday, August 6, 1978, in the United Methodist church of Lyons, Kansas. The congregation, my captive audience, took it well. ;-) I preached on the Transfiguration, which remains one of my favorite narratives in the gospels.
I have to admit that I miss preaching. I have been invited to preach in the Divine Liturgy a couple of times here in Finland; there is a tradition of lay preaching in Orthodoxy as there is in Methodism.
It cannot be emphasized enough: sacrament and preaching are not opposed. To use a common patristic metaphor, the table of the Word is as important as the table of the Eucharist. Unfortunately, in few places today does that balance actually appear. Another way to put it is that sermon and Eucharist require each other.
Today is the feast of the Transfiguration. What does the Transfiguration really mean? Perhaps in the Transfiguration narrative there are overtones of the angelic transformation one finds in I Enoch, perhaps echoes of the translation of the prophet Elijah, the face of Moses shining after his meeting God, the glory of God on Mt. Sinai. However, unlike either Enoch or Elijah, Jesus doesn't leave the earth - yet. It is the revelation of something previously hidden, something that leaves its witnesses awestruck and prostrate on the ground . . . prefiguration, sign of hope for some, sign of fear for others. Cause of trembling for all . . .
I have to admit that I miss preaching. I have been invited to preach in the Divine Liturgy a couple of times here in Finland; there is a tradition of lay preaching in Orthodoxy as there is in Methodism.
It cannot be emphasized enough: sacrament and preaching are not opposed. To use a common patristic metaphor, the table of the Word is as important as the table of the Eucharist. Unfortunately, in few places today does that balance actually appear. Another way to put it is that sermon and Eucharist require each other.
Today is the feast of the Transfiguration. What does the Transfiguration really mean? Perhaps in the Transfiguration narrative there are overtones of the angelic transformation one finds in I Enoch, perhaps echoes of the translation of the prophet Elijah, the face of Moses shining after his meeting God, the glory of God on Mt. Sinai. However, unlike either Enoch or Elijah, Jesus doesn't leave the earth - yet. It is the revelation of something previously hidden, something that leaves its witnesses awestruck and prostrate on the ground . . . prefiguration, sign of hope for some, sign of fear for others. Cause of trembling for all . . .
05 August 2012
liturgy and ecclesiology
Big topic, brief post.
At its core, the Liturgical Movement was about ecclesiology. Christian liturgy articulates a particular vision of the church - every Christian liturgical tradition does this. One of the central arguments of the Liturgical Movement was that liturgical practice reflected ecclesiology. Problems in liturgical life were more than problems with texts and practices; they reflected ecclesiological problems.
I'm not suggesting a simplistic one-to-one correlation between the two. Rather, I'm saying that questions about liturgical practice ultimately have to do with ecclesiology.
At its core, the Liturgical Movement was about ecclesiology. Christian liturgy articulates a particular vision of the church - every Christian liturgical tradition does this. One of the central arguments of the Liturgical Movement was that liturgical practice reflected ecclesiology. Problems in liturgical life were more than problems with texts and practices; they reflected ecclesiological problems.
I'm not suggesting a simplistic one-to-one correlation between the two. Rather, I'm saying that questions about liturgical practice ultimately have to do with ecclesiology.
Schmemann, White
I mentioned the Liturgical Movement in an earlier post. Alexander Schmemann and James F. White were two of the most influential theologians of the Liturgical Movement for North American audiences and beyond. Both sought to address the problems of contemporary liturgical practice in their respective traditions, and argued ceaselessly for a return to the roots of Christian liturgical practice. I was privileged to count Jim White as a teacher and a friend.
Both were vilified by those in their churches who saw their work as a threat to the liturgical status quo. On the Orthodox side, one still hears dismissive remarks about "Schmemannism," and I can still remember a United Methodist district superintendent sarcastically describing a United Methodist Sunday service in which the Eucharist was celebrated every Sunday as "worship a la James F. White." The irony in both cases is that both Schmemann and White were not advocating their personal, idiosyncratic views of Christian liturgy; they were arguing for a return to the deepest sources of Christian liturgical tradition in the practice of the churches of the apostles and their successors.
The vision of neither Schmemann nor White has come close to being fulfilled. We may have renewed liturgical texts, but so much of the heart of the church's liturgical life remains unrenewed. Texts can be changed - much more difficult to change the way the church lives its life.
Perhaps the time is coming for a second Liturgical Movement?
Both were vilified by those in their churches who saw their work as a threat to the liturgical status quo. On the Orthodox side, one still hears dismissive remarks about "Schmemannism," and I can still remember a United Methodist district superintendent sarcastically describing a United Methodist Sunday service in which the Eucharist was celebrated every Sunday as "worship a la James F. White." The irony in both cases is that both Schmemann and White were not advocating their personal, idiosyncratic views of Christian liturgy; they were arguing for a return to the deepest sources of Christian liturgical tradition in the practice of the churches of the apostles and their successors.
The vision of neither Schmemann nor White has come close to being fulfilled. We may have renewed liturgical texts, but so much of the heart of the church's liturgical life remains unrenewed. Texts can be changed - much more difficult to change the way the church lives its life.
Perhaps the time is coming for a second Liturgical Movement?
03 August 2012
Shestov, philosophy
A short post tonight, I'm beat. Yesterday I was reading some of the work of the Russian philosopher Lev Shestov. This post isn't about Shestov per se (another time soon, I hope).
But reading Shestov made me think about the place of philosophy in teaching for the church. Some might say that "ordinary" church members don't need to think about philosophy or ponder their own worldview. However, if the church doesn't help its members to do this, others certainly will. The church might not like the results.
But reading Shestov made me think about the place of philosophy in teaching for the church. Some might say that "ordinary" church members don't need to think about philosophy or ponder their own worldview. However, if the church doesn't help its members to do this, others certainly will. The church might not like the results.
01 August 2012
there is no despair
I've mentioned Reb Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810) before, here and elsewhere. I recommend Arthur Green's biography of Nachman to anyone interested in issues of religion and modernity.
Nachman went through a crisis of faith in the last year of his life, as he lived among advocates of the Haskalah (the Jewish Enlightment, and opponents of Hasidism), dying of tuberculosis. In mid-August 1810, a few months before he died, he emerged from the depths. On Shabbat Nahamu he taught his disciples, as was his custom. From Green's study:
[His disciple Nathan related that Nahman taught:] 'Why do you come to me? I don't know anything at all now. When I teach Torah, there is some reason to travel in order to be with me. But why have you come now? I don't know anything now; I'm just a simple person.' He kept on in this manner, repeating two or three times that he was just a simple person who knew nothing at all. He then said that he lived now only by virtue of his one time journey to Erez Israel. From this he went on to explain the whole awesome matter of how he sustained himself, in time of 'simplicity,' by his journey to Erez Israel . . .
The zaddiq therefore must go down and fall into this state of simplicity, and become a truly simple man for some time. In this way he brings life to all the simple ones, whoever they may be . . . All of the simple ones get their life through him, each in accord with how near he is to holiness, and to the zaddiq . . .
The main thing is this: It is forbidden to despair! Even a simple man who cannot study at all, or one who finds himself in a place where he is unable to study, or the like, should in his very simplicity be strong in worship and in the fear of God. Even at that very moment he is receiving life-giving sustenance from the Torah, through the great simple one, the great zaddiq, who has himself undergone that simplicity and therefore can sustain them all.
Even he who stands on the very bottom rung, God forbid, or in the very depths of hell, may God protect us, should nevertheless not despair. He should fulfill the Scripture: 'Out of the belly of the deep I cried' (Jonah 2:3), and be as strong as he can. Even he will be able to return and receive the Torah's sustenance, by means of the zaddiq. The main thing is to strengthen yourself in whatever way you can, no matter how far you have fallen. If you hold on even just the slightest bit, there is yet hope that you will return to God . . . .
After the teaching he became very joyous, and told the people to begin singing 'Azamer bi-Shevahin immediately . . . Afterwards he spoke with us, very happily, and with an awesome and wondrous grace. He sat through the meal with great joy, talking with us and strengthening us greatly . . . Then he shouted from the very depths of his heart:
'Gevalt! Do not despair!' He went on in these words: 'There is no such thing as despair at all!'
He drew forth these words slowly and deliberately, saying: 'There is no despair.' He said the words with such strength and wondrous depth that he taught everyone, for all generations, that he should never despair, no matter what it is that he has to endure.
- Arthur Green, Tormented Master: The Life and Spiritual Quest of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav (Woodstock, Vermont: Jewish Lights Publishing, 1992), 264-265.
Nachman went through a crisis of faith in the last year of his life, as he lived among advocates of the Haskalah (the Jewish Enlightment, and opponents of Hasidism), dying of tuberculosis. In mid-August 1810, a few months before he died, he emerged from the depths. On Shabbat Nahamu he taught his disciples, as was his custom. From Green's study:
[His disciple Nathan related that Nahman taught:] 'Why do you come to me? I don't know anything at all now. When I teach Torah, there is some reason to travel in order to be with me. But why have you come now? I don't know anything now; I'm just a simple person.' He kept on in this manner, repeating two or three times that he was just a simple person who knew nothing at all. He then said that he lived now only by virtue of his one time journey to Erez Israel. From this he went on to explain the whole awesome matter of how he sustained himself, in time of 'simplicity,' by his journey to Erez Israel . . .
The zaddiq therefore must go down and fall into this state of simplicity, and become a truly simple man for some time. In this way he brings life to all the simple ones, whoever they may be . . . All of the simple ones get their life through him, each in accord with how near he is to holiness, and to the zaddiq . . .
The main thing is this: It is forbidden to despair! Even a simple man who cannot study at all, or one who finds himself in a place where he is unable to study, or the like, should in his very simplicity be strong in worship and in the fear of God. Even at that very moment he is receiving life-giving sustenance from the Torah, through the great simple one, the great zaddiq, who has himself undergone that simplicity and therefore can sustain them all.
Even he who stands on the very bottom rung, God forbid, or in the very depths of hell, may God protect us, should nevertheless not despair. He should fulfill the Scripture: 'Out of the belly of the deep I cried' (Jonah 2:3), and be as strong as he can. Even he will be able to return and receive the Torah's sustenance, by means of the zaddiq. The main thing is to strengthen yourself in whatever way you can, no matter how far you have fallen. If you hold on even just the slightest bit, there is yet hope that you will return to God . . . .
After the teaching he became very joyous, and told the people to begin singing 'Azamer bi-Shevahin immediately . . . Afterwards he spoke with us, very happily, and with an awesome and wondrous grace. He sat through the meal with great joy, talking with us and strengthening us greatly . . . Then he shouted from the very depths of his heart:
'Gevalt! Do not despair!' He went on in these words: 'There is no such thing as despair at all!'
He drew forth these words slowly and deliberately, saying: 'There is no despair.' He said the words with such strength and wondrous depth that he taught everyone, for all generations, that he should never despair, no matter what it is that he has to endure.
- Arthur Green, Tormented Master: The Life and Spiritual Quest of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav (Woodstock, Vermont: Jewish Lights Publishing, 1992), 264-265.
expectations
If we were to ask church members - not necessarily only ones who show up on Sundays - what they expect to get out of the Sunday liturgy (I mean this in a broad sense to include both the Divine Liturgy and forms of Sunday service in Protestant and Catholic churches), I wonder what we would learn.
Putting the question that way is crass and even offensive, I know. We worship God out of thanksgiving, gratitude, acknowledgement. However, in a consumerist culture I think this is the approach many people take to their liturgical participation.
Putting the question that way is crass and even offensive, I know. We worship God out of thanksgiving, gratitude, acknowledgement. However, in a consumerist culture I think this is the approach many people take to their liturgical participation.
ecosystem
The answer to the question "are the clergy allowed to worship too?" will not be found in a new or better "spirituality of ministry" or "theology of the priesthood." We have to think more broadly and ask ourselves what has happened to the life of the church that such a situation could arise in the first place.
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