Category: Theology

Over the next few days, I’ll be blogging my thoughts about the Moltmann conversation. I’m not a theologian, and I’ve read very little of Jurgen Moltmann (although now I want to read a lot more), so I will just be reflecting on what I heard at the Emergent Theological Conversation.

I think one of the poignant soundbites from the Moltmann conversation came during the rapid fire round. Tony Jones would throw out a name and Moltmann would give a one sentence response. While this of course brought out some moments of praise (“Pope John Paul II – “He was a good pope” and Miroslav Volf – “dear friend, gifted theologian’), it also brought a few criticisms (Augustine – “ask his wife” and Pelagius – “he is the saint of American Christians”). I found his reply to what he thought about Hauerwas to be significant – “The New Testament speaks not about a peaceable kingdom, but a peace-making kingdom.”

Moltmann is very insistent on the need to have an active faith. Apathy is the enemy of faith, and can lead one to passivity. But if we are serving Christ and truly looking towards the hope of the Kingdom, we will be actively engaged in the faith. A peaceable kingdom is not one of action, there must be deliberate attempts made to established the hope-filled world that Jesus calls us to.

In a later session, Moltmann then expanded on what he meant by that idea of a peace-making kingdom. He likes the future idea of a peaceable kingdom where swords will instead be plowshares, but he also reminds that peace-making is what does the actual work of transformation. He said, – we need communities that anticipate this peaceable kingdom, and communities that work for peacemaking in this world. A double strategy so that peacemakers do not become too violent themselves without this ideal vision or people end up not preventing any war by living in their own peace. He captures the dangers of both the peaceable and the peace-makers, the former can be so afraid of conflict that they are frozen in inaction and the latter so committed to a goal that they adopt the tactics of the violent to achieve their ends.

I’ve seen the dangers of those that think the best route to peace is to do nothing, who believe that even words create too much conflict. And I’ve also seen the beautiful examples of peace-makers actively taking a stand for what is good and right without fear of their own safety or intention to harm oppressors. The women of the Niger River Delta who stood up to Chevron to protest the destruction of their homes, or the women of Liberia who peacefully ended a bloody civil war (as depicted in Pray the Devil Back to Hell) demonstrated this active peacemaking. And Moltman himself felt the tension as well, after he was released from the WW2 POW camp he vowed to never again take up arms in a military, but he also vowed that if given the chance to kill an evil dictator like Hitler he would take it. It’s complicated, but it’s also a good reminder that peace has little to do with passive pacifism, and everything to do with actively seeking justice and peace.

Over the next few days, I’ll be blogging my thoughts about the Moltmann conversation. I’m not a theologian, and I’ve read very little of Jurgen Moltmann (although now I want to read a lot more), so I will just be reflecting on what I heard at the Emergent Theological Conversation.

One of the things I appreciated most in the conversations with Moltmann, was his insistence on returning to the simplicity of the gospel. Often he was asked a question on some controversial issue in the American church, and he simply scoffed at how we make such a big deal over it. His thought is that God is God and the gospel is the gospel – how we keep trying to manipulate and add things to it seemed preposterous or even heretical. Take for example his response to two such hot topic issues much discussed lately in America – gender language for God and homosexuality.

Moltmann was asked about the difficulty in “coming up with pronouns that are appropriately intimate and personal for God and yet don’t anthropomorphize God with a gender.” His response was that God is neither he nor she nor it – God is God. We should not use God’s divinity to justify the domination of men over women. The image we have of the trinity is not one of hierarchy or domination, but of unity. This unity can be reflected in our church communities – being in community the image of the communal identity of love. I found his view of allowing God to be God to be refreshing. Too often God is used for that very purpose of domination that subverts and destroys community. Sometime we get so wrapped up in the complexities of our own opinions that we paint elaborate portraits of God in our own personal images.  Moltmann proposes instead a simplicity that doesn’t fall into idolatry by reducing God to gender, and yet remains intimately connected to God through the use of multi-gendered pronouns for God.

Same thing with homosexuality. When the schismatic nature of sexuality in the American church was brought up, Moltmann replied that the whole discussion isn’t a problem in Germany. He said they have never had a struggle about this in the churches and in between the churches, because the church is about the gospel and not about sex. Christians believe in the justification of human beings by faith alone, not by faith and homosexuality. That, according to Moltmann, is adding heresy. I find this tendency, especially in the American church, to add things to the gospel to be disturbing. I’ve recently been told that I obviously am not a true Christian if I, say, read gender neutral Bible translations, do yoga, refuse to spank my kids, or become a vegetarian. As farcical as it sounds to turn the gospel into “believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and continue to eat meat and you will be saved,” it is unfortunately representative of a growing trend in the church these days. When prominent church leaders regularly question the salvation of those who don’t follow the teachings of Calvin, the warped idolatry in the church is apparent.

So, I loved that Moltmann simply scoffed at America’s adolescent stupidity and encouraged us to get back to the gospel. Let God be God. Let the gospel be the gospel. Of course, opinions and theologies will always affect our faith, but sometimes we just need a good reminder to get over ourselves and stop manipulating God for our own ends.

Over the next few days, I’ll be blogging my thoughts about the Moltmann conversation. I’m not a theologian, and I’ve read very little of Jurgen Moltmann (although now I want to read a lot more), so I will just be reflecting on what I heard at the Emergent Theological Conversation.

At one point Moltmann, spoke about the two crosses of Christianity – the real cross at Golgotha and Constantine’s dream cross (a discussion I assume he develops further in his book, The Crucified God). The cross that appeared to Constantine in his vision was the cross of empire and violence. It was used to conquer, oppress, and destroy opposition. His cross is one of power and domination, not of response and reconciliation. But it is Constantine’s cross, and not the cross of Golgotha, that the church has most readily accepted through the ages. Moltmann mentioned that it was the precursor of the Iron Cross and Victoria’s Cross – crosses that spoke not of the sacrifice of Jesus, but of empire and political maneuvering. We place that cross on flags to demonstrate the forced acceptance of a political interpretation of Christ. Accepting Christ and his cross has become about accepting the empire’s official version thereof.

Moltmann suggested instead that we need to go back to the origins of our faith to find a new future for Christianity in the world outside of imperialism. We have so confused the cross of Constantine with the real cross of Christ that we fail to understand and honor what the cross truly means. We honor our idea of a powerful, vindictive cross instead of a suffering cross. Unless we break from this idolatry, the probleofm  the Church causing pain in this world will continue.

I found the image fascinating. When the cross becomes our shield and sword instead of a symbol of hope, our faith becomes about struggle with the Other instead of love of the Other. Instead of acknowledging that through Christ’s suffering, all can be reconciled, we desire to forcibly make others think as we do. But conversion through coercion is not a reflection of hope and love, but of fear. If we cannot let the other be who they are and encounter the cross on their own terms, then we have forsaken the cross in favor of empire (be that a political or ideological empire). I fully agree that we need to return to the real cross, but I also do wonder what the future would look like apart from this need to use the cross to justify our disrespectful and inhumane treatment of others. A cross that embraced the suffering of others and helped them develop hope from that suffering instead of causing that very suffering is a vastly different sort of cross; and a church that shunned the cross of empire in favor of Jesus himself would be a very different church.

So yesterday I was able to get out and go hear Phyllis Tickle speak at St. David’s church here in Austin. It was nice to get out of the house and pretend for a few hours that I am still a thinking adult and not just a spit-up depository. Phyllis discussed the ideas in her new book The Great Emergence (which I blogged on recently here). She of course is brilliant in her understanding of religious trends and the transformative impact of historical events. I am really looking forward to reading the book, and wish I could attend The Great Emergence conference in December to explore these ideas further.

One thing she brought up yesterday that really stood out to me was the idea that the major controversial issues the church deals with (slavery, women’s rights, homosexuality…) are significant mainly because they challenge the Protestant notion of Sola Scriptura. For most people it doesn’t matter if their reading of the Bible on those issues is perhaps wrong or biased – they interpret the Bible a certain way and anything that challenges that interpretation is a direct challenge to scripture. One could argue until one is blue in the face that the Bible really doesn’t condone slavery or support the subjugation of women, but any challenge to their preconceived notions is a death blow to Sola Scriptura. There are of course all sorts of discussions regarding foundationalism and theories of truth that relate to this idea, but her discussion connected to me on a more visceral level in relation to basic underpinnings of faith.

Recently Mike and I have had numerous conversations on how one approaches the Bible. In seminary he is mildly irritated at the either/or approach one is offered when it comes to Biblical interpretation. Either one is a literalist or one is a historic liberal. It’s one or the other. Which is of course annoying to those of us who take a slightly more middle ground. But in discussing the good parts of historical source criticism, I’ve seen that often my gut response is not to explore the truth behind such claims, but to react to how they change my faith. The good moral lessons or words of encouragement that I was taught were the core meaning behind certain bible stories no longer exist when those stories are approached from a different perspective. I find myself uncomfortable not because such things challenge truth, but because they challenge the cultural trappings of my religious tradition. I have to ask if my faith is truly in God or if it is in the presentation of the christian faith as it has been given to me.

I have no problem exploring that question and rethinking what I believe. But others see such questioning of biblical interpretation as questioning the Bible itself. It is all about our faith in Sola Scriptura as Phyllis mentioned. It is about an idea – a constructed way of being – more than it is truly about the Bible or truth. Questions and doubts challenge the superiority of our intellect and undermine our egotistical perceptions of self. We spin it other ways, but it comes down to basic posturing and the inability to admit we are wrong.

So I have to ask myself if I would rather place my faith in a false god than have that faith challenged. Is my comfort with the familiar more important than following and serving God?