In defence of doctrine

My article In Defence of Doctrine has just been published in The Briefing - you can purchase on-line as well as hard copies from Matthias Media here.

Love to have your feedback!

Terry Eagleton: Reason, Faith and Revolution

Terry Eagleton's latest book is a stinging attack on all things Dawkins and Hitchens, or 'Ditchkins' as he calls them.

In amongst the ridicule he rightly heaps on them, there is some fantastic prose about the essence of Christianity. Not surprisingly, this bit caught my eye:

The most radical form of self-denial is to give up not cigarettes or whiskey but one's own body, an act which is traditionally known as martyrdom. The martyr yields up his or her most precious possession, but would prefer not to; the suicide, by contrast, is glad to be rid of a life that has become an unbearable burden. If Jesus wanted to die, then he was just another suicide, and his death was as worthless and futile as a suicide bomber's messy finale. Martyrs, as opposed to suicides, are those who place their deaths at the service of others. Even their dying is an act of love. Their deaths are such that they can bear fruit in the lives of others. (p. 26)

Eagleton, a socialist from way back, can see the radicalism of the New Testament in clear focus: 'The New Testament is a brutal destroyer of human illusions. If you follow Jesus and don't end up dead, it appears you have some explaining to do.' Quite... And here's more:

The Christian way of indicating that faith is in the end a question of choice is the notion of choice. Like the world itself from a Christian point of view, faith is a gift. This means among other things that Christians are not in conscious possession of all the reasons why they believe in God... (p. 138)

Intriguingly, Eagleton has also noticed that some of the most vigorous intellectual discussion taking place in the West is being done by theologians (to the great surprise of Ditchkins)

...theology, however implausible many of its truth claims, is one of the most ambitious theoretical arenas left in an increasingly specialised world - one whose subject is nothing les than the nature and destiny of humanity itself, in relation to what it takes to be its transcendent source of life. These are not questions one can easily raise in analytic philosophy or political science.

Eagleton describes Christianity as a kind of 'tragic humanism', a type of thinking that holds that only 'by a process of self-dispossession and radical remaking can humanity come into its own'. (p. 169). By George, I think he's got it...

How to read theology - a guide for the perplexed

Let's face it - not everyone's a natural reader. Not everybody finds reading an easy or pleasurable task. And reading theology is not an exception.

In fact things may be worse. For one thing, even though the subject matter is glorious, writers of theology are not necessarily good writers. It is often translated from Latin or German. And it is also the case that, like its cousin philosophy, theological writing can be highly abstract, deploying a specialised vocabulary, and requiring the reader to juggle several mental items at once.

So: here's some help.

1 - Orient yourself to the writer and his or her work by using Wikipedia. It is not definitive, but it is very useful as an introduction.

2 - Ask 'what is the purpose or occassion of the work?' And 'who was this written to convince?' Much of the best theology is written out of controversy, or to suit the historical occassion. We need to know how important Pelagius was for Augustine, for example.

3 - Now - you want the potted version. So: look for where in the work the author summarises what they are trying to say. With a more modern work, find online reviews of the work that boil it down to a couple of paragraphs. This is not a substitute for reading of course!

4 - Try to get a sense of the outline of the argument or the structure of the work. Flip forward to passages that might stand out as offering this help - to headings, conclusion and introductions.

5 - Check the indexes. You get a really good sense of what is most important for an author this way - and you might be guided to some purple passages.

6 - Have to hand a work like Grenz's Dictionary of Theological Terms or McGrath's Christian Theology An Introduction, and don't be afraid to pause and clarify in your own mind what you don't get.

7 - Use a pencil and write all over the text. Go on! This helps with memory and with re-reading. And you have to decide what is important in the text. It is less effort than making summaries but increases your attentiveness.

8 - Join a reading group that is committed. There's nothing better than helping each other at the level of comprehension. Don't be afraid to invite an expert to share every now and then.

Addendum: 9 - you have to learn to read with your ears. That is, reading anything, not leasts theology, is about hearing the author's own distinctive voice. This isn't just a matter of their style: it is about picking up the shape of their thought, their favourite expressions, and the habits of their mind.

David Bentley Hart on Theology as an academic discipline

This makes me feel so much better... David Bentley Hart points out that theologians should never have holidays, really:

...theology requires a far great scholarly range than does any other humane science. The properly trained Christian theologian, perfectly in command of his materials, should be a proficient linguist, with a mastery of several ancient and modern tongues, should have a complete formation in the subtleties of the whole Christian dogmatic tradition, should possess a considerable knowledge of the texts and arguments produced in every period of the Church, should be a good historian, should be thoroughly trained in philosophy, ancient, medieval and modern, should have a fairly broad grasp of liturgical practice in every culture and age of the Christian world, should (ideally) possess considerable knowedge of literature, music and the plastic arts, should have an intelligent interest in the effects of theological discourse in areas such as law or economics, and so on and so forth. This is not to say that one cannot practice theology without these attainments; but such an education remains the scholarly ideal of the guild...

He's right of course... theology is a meta-discipline in many ways. Very interesting to think about in the light of current debates about theological education.

The Common Room episode 2

David Hohne and I have a gasbag about theology and what it is good for:

What is Theology?



We realised afterwards that we forgotted to say that theology is about God... oops.

The Theological Interpretation of Scripture

I am interested in compiling a reading list of works to do with 'theological interpretation of Scripture. It is a growing field of theological investigation. What's exciting about it is that biblical studies and systematic theology are ending their turf war over who can and can't read scripture.

Can you add to this list? (Francis Watson's works are an obvious addition).


Scripture's Doctrine and Theology's Bible: Howthe New Testament Shapes Christian Dogmatics ed Marcus Bockmeuhl

Introducing Theological Interpretation of Scripture: Recovering a Christian Practice by Daniel Treier

The Theological Interpretation of Scripture: Classic and Contemporary Readings ed Stephen Fowl

Dictionary for Theological Interpretation of the Bible ed Kevin Vanhoozer

Stout on academic theology

While I wait for my copy of Charles Taylor's book The Secular Age to arrive, I have been dipping in to Stout's book Ethics After Babel. He some very perceptive comments to make about the disconnection between seminary professors and their students (on the American scene anyhow). The problem for the seminary prof is that constituency in the classroom (ie, the fee-paying students) are on the whole embarassingly pietistic and dogmatic (from Stout's perspective). And yet they long for academic credibility - so they have distance themselves from their own students. Stout continues:

...secular intellectuals have largely stopped paying attention. They don't need to be told, by theologians, that Genesis is mythical, that nobody knows much about the historical Jesus, that it's morally imperative to side with the oppressed, or that birth control is morally permissible. The explanation for the eclipse of religious ethics in recent secular moral philosophy may therefore be rather more straightforward than I have suggested so far. It may be that academic theologians have increasingly given the impression of saying nothing atheistis don't already know.

Theology as pure method?

This summer I obtained two books for my 9-year old son to read - The Philosophy Files 1 and 2 by Stephen Law.

They are quite brilliantly conceived books, using a dialogical style to introduce kids to the great issues of philosophical debate. Law is able to give the arguments for both sides in most instances, and then prompts some further questions. We had great fun talking about whether eating meat was ok, for example.

My thought was, why aren't there similar books on theology for Simon's age group: books that are fun, stimulating, don't talk down, don't provide cheap easy answers and have cool pictures in them?

But then a further realisation: Law is able to do what he does because he presents philosophy as a method of thinking rather than any particular set of thoughts. Essentially, as he offers it, philosophy means developing your skill in rational thinking (it's a very English view!). What answer you come to on the various questions is in the end irrelevant pretty much: it is the process of thinking them through that concerns him. And it makes for a more interesting book because it is open-ended in this way.

Can theology be presented like this? Can we say 'this is good theological thinking' without actually resolving some of the questions the philosopher is happy to leave unresolved? How could you then present theology to intelligent 9-13 year olds as not merely a set of answers but a way of thinking?

Alasdair MacIntyre on disagreement

Simon and Sacha at Nantes Chateau, where the Edict of Nantes was signed (so they say).

Alasdair MacIntyre's Gifford Lectures Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry begins with an observation about the experience of delivering the lectures themselves: that the debate elicited responses that varied according to the rational systems deployed by the participants. As he notes:

...nothing is more striking in the contemporary university than the extent of the apparently ineliminable continuing divisions and conflicts within all humanistic enquiry ... p. 6

What we really experience I guess is more like a 'multi-versity', where the clash of theoretical commitments rings out accross the campus. Or, perhaps, as MacIntyre suspects, the only engagements that occur are between people who already share the same rational commitments. This might be accross disciplines - and the disagreements may run through individual disciplines. MacIntyre goes on:

Hence debate between fundamentally opposed standpoints does occur; but it is inevitably inconclusive. Each warring position characteristically appears irrefutable to its own adherents; indeed in its own terms and by its own standards of argument it IS in practice irrefutable. But each warring position equally seems to its opponents to be insufficiently warranted by rational argument.

And then, the interesting bit:

It is ironic that the wholly secular humanistic disciplines of the late twentieth century should thus reproduce that very same condition which led their nineteenth century secularizing predecessors to dismiss the claim of theology to be worthy of the status of an academic discipline. p. 7

This attack on theology still goes on of course...and yet, is political philosophy any different (for example)?

The Holiness of Theology - or otherwise

In a recent discussion with friends, this passage from John Webster's Holiness book came under particular focus:

...talk of the sufficiency of Scripture is a warning against allowing theology's imagination to be enticed into giving attention to all manner of sources of fascination; for however enriching and fruitful they may present themsevles to , in the end they nearly always constitute a distraction. Theology cannot be and do and say everything; when theology does strive to relate itself to all kinds of other fields of intellectual and cultural activity, then - however much it may do so in good faith and with praiseworthy intentions - it risks losing its determincy, integrity and stability as the attempt to hear and repeat the one Word of God. (p. 21)

This comment was debated on the grounds that it allowed no room for prevenient or common grace (depending on whether you were a Wesleyan or a Calvinist!); and conceded far too much to secular disciplines such that it could not call them to account or be informed by them at all. We speculated as to what vices Webster was excoriating. What I think he has in mind is the Tillichian correlation of theology to culture, which of course within a decade becomes no more than a curiosity of history. Personally, I am stirred by Webster's vision here: I think theology's inattentivity to its own singular and decisive source - the Word of God - and its own task leaves it incapable of saying anything credible about these other disciplines in any case. At least I guess Milbank is trying: but I think he leaves far too much space for a philosophy which, like a cuckoo in the nest, soon ejects the true children and grows to become bigger than its 'parents' (see photo...)