Over ninety Letters. No separate narrative. All conversations, scenarios, and plot told from the perspective of either the main character or her sister. And yet, in the Color Purple, Alice Walker paints a near-perfect portrait of the struggle to survive in situations of oppression and hardship. The novel is entertaining, enriching, and at times, excruciatingly beautiful. At the end, the reader finds his or her soul lifted up and offered a shining ray of hope in spite of the apparent darkness and brokenness of the world. And in the midst of this, the author clearly delineates a theological argument that resonates through all sorts of people, time and place.
Question: The primary question asked by the author through the story is, “How can I have hope and joy when I am abused, marginalized and broken in two?” Furthermore, the question succeeding the question is what that hope and joy might look like and lead to if indeed they can be discovered. The author speaks these questions to whosoever will listen.
Answer: In the words of Shug, “everything want to be loved” (Walker 198). Through the loving-kindness of Shug, and the ripples that spread from this love, Celie discovers hope and joy. This is foreshadowed through Celie’s initial impressions, glimpses and first encounter with the Blues singer (6, 8); and this fact is cemented as Shug becomes the lover and teacher of the broken and marginalized Celie (115). Celie does not discover this hope and joy on her own; she is taught to appreciate the gifts of life by someone who herself has learned to do so. Through this telling, the author argues that all of us are responsible not only to notice “the color purple” but also to point it out to others as well (197). This answer to the second question is elaborated on in the second half of the book as the ripples of loving-kindness spread outward from Celie and Shug to the rest of their family and community, until in the end the very soul of Celie is rejoined in an Utopian setting as her sister and children are verily resurrected from the dead (291).
Method: Through the use of narrative and poetic language, Alice Walker lays out her perspective on how to find joy and happiness in the midst of trial. The narrative of Celie and her sister demonstrate the divided heart; part of us has been torn asunder, and only after years of living and loving and healing can this deep rift be restored. The narrative of Celie and Shug puts on display the boundless nature of love as societal conventions and even other loves themselves cannot lessen or break the bond between the lovers. The various narratives of family members and in-laws demonstrates over and again the marginalization of a people that will not give up hope, whether it be African-Americans in the South or women in an abusive marriage; all these narratives are resolved with hope and optimism. The broken family is restored, the destitute find prosperity, the lost return home, and the ugliness of life is turned to beauty. In the end, through the resolutions of these narrative conflicts, the author clearly announces that this same hope and optimism are within all of our grasps.
Further, Walker employs dialectic to establish her theology in key moments. Whether it is Celie ‘arguing’ with Shug, Sofia fighting with her husband (and whoever else is stupid enough to mess with her), or even Nettie talking with Celie’s children and the tribe in Africa, the author continually uses dialogue to move towards the deeper truths hinted at in the narrative.
Significance: Since the message is one of hope, anyone who experiences a dark time can take solace in the notion of the eventual good; all ends well for Celie and her family, so why should it not end well for the reader? Also, this hope extends outward to a broken world that can’t seem to get it right. Maybe, Walker seems to say, we can fix this whole thing if we learn to love each other as equals in the scheme of things.
Evaluation: Walker’s novel is superb, her characters rich, and her tale engrossing. Even her theology, as implied in the book, is full of sparkling hope for the eventual unity and equality of the human race. However, the only flaw is that Walker’s story does not seem to imitate the way life actually ends up. The author’s utopian vision is jarring when contrasted with the unfair nature of the poverty cycle, the un-repentance of many abusive partners, and the death of many loved ones. It seems clear to me that the author was not naïve; every scenario seems to play out for the best in spite of all the odds for failure. Perhaps this is the vision of Walker: to present an absurdly hopeful picture. Maybe the author is saying that the world doesn’t look like this at all, and we all know it. But maybe it should. And maybe it can.
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
10.03.2007
Post on scripture as metaphor
this was from my New Testament class. We were supposed to first read the passage in Luke about the calming of the storm, and view it as metaphor. Then we were tasked with engaging with it personally. Lastly, we were to pick our favorite scripture and explain why...
Scripture as metaphor:
Crossing to the other side - we are a part of a new exodus, leaving the old for the new; we have set out on this journey at the behest of our teacher/messiah/Lord; he has begun a new creation, and we are ready for the glorious journey...
(the ascension) - Jesus falls asleep.
The storm - wow, this journey is tough. Immediately, things have taken turns for the worse. What was promised is not being fulfilled. We are fighting against not only our own spiritual failings but against what seems to be the very bent of creation.
The calm - Jesus wakes up. He fixes it. (Implied: we make it to the other side).
My personal view:
Well, I always try to run away (far far away) from my built-in, Sunday school, canned responses that are so interwoven with the language and narrative of scripture that I have trouble distinguishing my own thought from that of Cokesbury Publishing. Here, after clearing my head as much as possible, I felt afraid. This story is deeply connected to my own struggle in this present day. I am much like the disciples, pre-calm.
We (humans/Christians in general) are stuck in a nasty storm. The waves are terrible. The wind is powerful and chaotic. There was little to no warning. We are in danger, constantly. So what do we do? I believe that we must read between the lines to understand the space between the storm and the waking up of Jesus (else, why the comment regarding little-faith?). The disciples first tried to bail out. They tried to sail away, or sail through. Some might have wanted to turn back. Others began doing what I find myself doing on a daily basis: accusing. "Peter, I thought you knew how to sail this thing!" "Andrew, you said those clouds wouldn't put us in danger!" "James, it was your turn to check the boat for leaks!" "Thaddeus, it's your job to get this boat bailed out!" "C'mon guys, we suck, we need to fix this boat!! We are failing! This isn't how we were supposed to sail!! How do you expect to get to the other side like this!" "Jesus, you ... you. are. sleeping."
Where are you, Lord? How strongly does the storm rage.
The promise is there in the text. I do not feel inclined to read this passage in a individualistic/salvation light. So I ask that dreaded question. Why? Why are you sleeping? Do you not care that we are perishing?
Now. My choice of text.
Revelation 22:17, 20.
"The spirit and the bride say, 'Come.'
And let everyone who hears say, 'Come.'
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift...
The one who testifies to these things says,
Surely.
I am
coming
soon.
Amen. Come Lord Jesus."
I echo the words again, in my soul.
Amen.
Amen.
Come Lord Jesus.
Come.
Scripture as metaphor:
Crossing to the other side - we are a part of a new exodus, leaving the old for the new; we have set out on this journey at the behest of our teacher/messiah/Lord; he has begun a new creation, and we are ready for the glorious journey...
(the ascension) - Jesus falls asleep.
The storm - wow, this journey is tough. Immediately, things have taken turns for the worse. What was promised is not being fulfilled. We are fighting against not only our own spiritual failings but against what seems to be the very bent of creation.
The calm - Jesus wakes up. He fixes it. (Implied: we make it to the other side).
My personal view:
Well, I always try to run away (far far away) from my built-in, Sunday school, canned responses that are so interwoven with the language and narrative of scripture that I have trouble distinguishing my own thought from that of Cokesbury Publishing. Here, after clearing my head as much as possible, I felt afraid. This story is deeply connected to my own struggle in this present day. I am much like the disciples, pre-calm.
We (humans/Christians in general) are stuck in a nasty storm. The waves are terrible. The wind is powerful and chaotic. There was little to no warning. We are in danger, constantly. So what do we do? I believe that we must read between the lines to understand the space between the storm and the waking up of Jesus (else, why the comment regarding little-faith?). The disciples first tried to bail out. They tried to sail away, or sail through. Some might have wanted to turn back. Others began doing what I find myself doing on a daily basis: accusing. "Peter, I thought you knew how to sail this thing!" "Andrew, you said those clouds wouldn't put us in danger!" "James, it was your turn to check the boat for leaks!" "Thaddeus, it's your job to get this boat bailed out!" "C'mon guys, we suck, we need to fix this boat!! We are failing! This isn't how we were supposed to sail!! How do you expect to get to the other side like this!" "Jesus, you ... you. are. sleeping."
Where are you, Lord? How strongly does the storm rage.
The promise is there in the text. I do not feel inclined to read this passage in a individualistic/salvation light. So I ask that dreaded question. Why? Why are you sleeping? Do you not care that we are perishing?
Now. My choice of text.
Revelation 22:17, 20.
"The spirit and the bride say, 'Come.'
And let everyone who hears say, 'Come.'
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift...
The one who testifies to these things says,
Surely.
I am
coming
soon.
Amen. Come Lord Jesus."
I echo the words again, in my soul.
Amen.
Amen.
Come Lord Jesus.
Come.
9.27.2007
Descriptive Review of The Essential Tillich, Ch 5
Engaging with Paul Tillich’s writing has been refreshing and challenging to my soul. So, as I attempt to do a descriptive review of his chapter on “The Nature of Religious Language,” I am certain that my own enjoyment of Tillich will show through; however, I also will attempt to be as honest and critical of Tillich’s arguments and methods as I would of any other author.
Question: The question for this chapter is illuminated by the title of the essay from which it was collected: “Religious Symbols and Our Knowledge of God” (Tillich 44). Tillich attempts to answer the dilemma that he has created in previous chapters, as he has established that God is the being beyond being, or Being-Itself. If God is beyond being, then how can we speak of God? Tillich writes this piece in 1955, in America, at a time when the world was picking up the pieces from a foundation-shaking war (44).
Answer: Tillich answers this question through his description of symbols over against signs, then through his refinement of the specifically religious symbols. To the author, one obviously cannot understand any reality without some kind of sign or symbol to point to that experienced reality (45). Tillich differentiates between signs and symbols, and this is the key to his answer. A sign can only represent something, but it is arbitrary (45). The letters in this sentence have no internal significance; if they had any originally, it has since been lost. Symbols, however, “participate in the meaning and the power” of the reality which they represent (45). Furthermore, a religious symbol both participates in and points to the “fundamental level … of being itself” (49). Therefore, the concept of God, while insufficient, is the religious symbol for the transcendent reality of the Being-Itself (51). Not only this, but all of the materials that make up our conception of God are from our own experienced reality (52); therefore, our conception of God can only be a symbol, since God, by definition, is greater than all of our experienced reality.
Method: Tillich engages in a philosophical method aptly named dialectic. All of Tillich’s syntheses in this chapter are forged from the theses and antitheses that Tillich brings up. First, Tillich juxtaposes the concepts of sign and symbol (45); his synthesis states that symbols are those concepts that participate in the reality to which they point, and he arrives at this conclusion by illustrating that signs are excluded from this definition, in that they are arbitrary. Next, Tillich holds up symbols to a more specific religious symbol (49). Symbols in general point to a deeper reality, but religious symbols point to the ultimate transcendent reality. Then the theologian holds up the transcendent reality itself as an antithesis to the previous thesis in order to arrive at this synthesis: “participation is not identity; they [the religious symbols] are not themselves the Holy” (49). This kind of logic and approach intermingled with existential language and reasoning drive Tillich’s arguments.
Significance: For all those who have suffered under the yoke of existentialism, and for any and all who feel infinitely distant from a transcendent God, this chapter offers a light unto the path back to speaking of God. We must be careful, Tillich notes, but we must still attempt to point to the deep dimensions of reality with symbols and to the ultimate dimension of Being-Itself with religious symbol. For any and all who have become worshippers of the symbols themselves, this chapter is a warning and a reminder of just how limited our symbols actually are.
Evaluation: Following Tillich’s lead, the thesis is that this chapter logically demonstrates for us how we can and why we should still attempt to speak of the Holy; the antithesis is that the very arguments made are made with signs, rather than symbol. We can then move to our synthesis that this chapter examines language with language, and thus is limited; but Tillich acknowledges this limitation in his tone and structure. One weak point in Tillich’s chain of reasoning is the seemingly simple dichotomies that the author moves through to get to his point. We must ignore all gray in order to clearly delineate the black and white. Sign and symbol, we are led to believe, are the only ways to communicate reality. Conversely, Tillich’s method of differentiating between the two is one of degrees and personal judgment, leaving much open ended and unclear. Furthermore, Tillich appears to work in a world of universals – there is little room in these arguments for different perspectives. Overall, a great chapter that is effective and important; but like all reasoned arguments, it has its flaws.
Question: The question for this chapter is illuminated by the title of the essay from which it was collected: “Religious Symbols and Our Knowledge of God” (Tillich 44). Tillich attempts to answer the dilemma that he has created in previous chapters, as he has established that God is the being beyond being, or Being-Itself. If God is beyond being, then how can we speak of God? Tillich writes this piece in 1955, in America, at a time when the world was picking up the pieces from a foundation-shaking war (44).
Answer: Tillich answers this question through his description of symbols over against signs, then through his refinement of the specifically religious symbols. To the author, one obviously cannot understand any reality without some kind of sign or symbol to point to that experienced reality (45). Tillich differentiates between signs and symbols, and this is the key to his answer. A sign can only represent something, but it is arbitrary (45). The letters in this sentence have no internal significance; if they had any originally, it has since been lost. Symbols, however, “participate in the meaning and the power” of the reality which they represent (45). Furthermore, a religious symbol both participates in and points to the “fundamental level … of being itself” (49). Therefore, the concept of God, while insufficient, is the religious symbol for the transcendent reality of the Being-Itself (51). Not only this, but all of the materials that make up our conception of God are from our own experienced reality (52); therefore, our conception of God can only be a symbol, since God, by definition, is greater than all of our experienced reality.
Method: Tillich engages in a philosophical method aptly named dialectic. All of Tillich’s syntheses in this chapter are forged from the theses and antitheses that Tillich brings up. First, Tillich juxtaposes the concepts of sign and symbol (45); his synthesis states that symbols are those concepts that participate in the reality to which they point, and he arrives at this conclusion by illustrating that signs are excluded from this definition, in that they are arbitrary. Next, Tillich holds up symbols to a more specific religious symbol (49). Symbols in general point to a deeper reality, but religious symbols point to the ultimate transcendent reality. Then the theologian holds up the transcendent reality itself as an antithesis to the previous thesis in order to arrive at this synthesis: “participation is not identity; they [the religious symbols] are not themselves the Holy” (49). This kind of logic and approach intermingled with existential language and reasoning drive Tillich’s arguments.
Significance: For all those who have suffered under the yoke of existentialism, and for any and all who feel infinitely distant from a transcendent God, this chapter offers a light unto the path back to speaking of God. We must be careful, Tillich notes, but we must still attempt to point to the deep dimensions of reality with symbols and to the ultimate dimension of Being-Itself with religious symbol. For any and all who have become worshippers of the symbols themselves, this chapter is a warning and a reminder of just how limited our symbols actually are.
Evaluation: Following Tillich’s lead, the thesis is that this chapter logically demonstrates for us how we can and why we should still attempt to speak of the Holy; the antithesis is that the very arguments made are made with signs, rather than symbol. We can then move to our synthesis that this chapter examines language with language, and thus is limited; but Tillich acknowledges this limitation in his tone and structure. One weak point in Tillich’s chain of reasoning is the seemingly simple dichotomies that the author moves through to get to his point. We must ignore all gray in order to clearly delineate the black and white. Sign and symbol, we are led to believe, are the only ways to communicate reality. Conversely, Tillich’s method of differentiating between the two is one of degrees and personal judgment, leaving much open ended and unclear. Furthermore, Tillich appears to work in a world of universals – there is little room in these arguments for different perspectives. Overall, a great chapter that is effective and important; but like all reasoned arguments, it has its flaws.
9.11.2007
Descriptive Review of Church Dogmatics in Outline, Ch 12
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline – Chapter 12
As we wrap up our analysis of Karl Barth’s Dogmatics in Outline, I am compelled to note that this study has proven to be tremendously beneficial to me, both as a reminder of the core of Christian doctrine as passed down through history as well as an inspiration to pursue my own theology as it develops. For Barth did not need to write in the tongues of philosophy or existentialism or postmodernism, but wrote simply to the common Christian theologian, and in doing so left a permanent and powerful mark upon Christendom.
On the chapter in question, “God’s Only Son,” Karl Barth asserts the divinity of Christ, and the implications found therein. The four adjectives that stand out in the epigraph – and hence, in the text – are helpful, adequate, compelling and exclusive. These four words define the boundary of the argument being attempted. Barth does not attempt to determine what divinity actually is in an ontological sense; instead, Barth seeks to claim the divinity of Christ as exclusive, compelling, helpful and adequate.
Question: Why do Christians say they “believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only son?” What do they mean when they say this? These two primary questions are addressed by Barth in this essay, and they are addressed to the Christian church as it does confession. This starting point, within the church, is made clear when Barth states that “starting from the Christian faith” (83).
Answer: The statement of Jesus as God’s only son means that the “revelation” of God is “compelling and exclusive,” and the “work” of God is “helpful and adequate” (82). These two statements and four terms define what Barth means when he claims that God is “uniquely living through” Jesus (82). The Incarnation of God in Jesus is compelling and exclusive in that in Jesus, there is the supreme and final Revelation of God. If Jesus is God made human (which Barth has spoken of in the previous articles), then there can be no other God made human – Jesus’ Revelation is exclusive. If Jesus is God made human, then we are compelled to seek and understand this Revelation. Furthermore, Barth claims, if Jesus is God made human, then this Revelation has shown us a God that if for us; this God made human is both helpful and adequate.
Method: Barth again uses the primary tool of exegesis and reasoning based on his prior assertions. Barth does not engage in questions of substance and essence, of eternity and time, but Barth affirms the definitions and answers of the early church fathers as they struggled with these issues. Barth commends them for not being “afraid to fight” (86); indeed, Barth confesses that “all we men do is problematic, shameful and joyless,” a caveat for the reader declaring that even Barth’s assertions must be held in the same understanding. Barth does not claim any special revelation or power – he only stands with the church, claiming what the church claims.
Significance: To those who have experienced abuse of power in Christ’s name and to those who have “reduced” Jesus to simply a man/teacher/great thinker, Barth stands for Christ’s divinity, over against these things. For one, to those in Barth’s era who had seen people lay claim to the special Revelation and even the divinity of God (Heil, Hitler = Heil, Marie), and subsequently experienced terrible acts of inhumanity at their hands, Barth reminds us that Jesus as God is both helpful and adequate. And to those in Barth’s time who spoke of the Christian message as powerless and empty in the face of evil and death, the theologian offers us hope in that Jesus as God is compelling and exclusive. This work of God, according to Christian faith, is both final and for our good.
Evaluation: It is now quite clear that Karl Barth is not concerned with abstract theology and questions, but with practical Christian theology, as can be determined from the bible and from the creeds. I believe that Barth accomplishes this to a certain degree, as is evidenced from his longevity. More importantly, I believe Barth offers up a new criteria for faith and progress; we must not discard or discredit the past, but instead we must look searchingly for truth where it is to be found, and then determine what is helpful and adequate, compelling and exclusive in the work of God as “He wills to be for us in His only-begotten Son, Jesus Christ” (87).
As we wrap up our analysis of Karl Barth’s Dogmatics in Outline, I am compelled to note that this study has proven to be tremendously beneficial to me, both as a reminder of the core of Christian doctrine as passed down through history as well as an inspiration to pursue my own theology as it develops. For Barth did not need to write in the tongues of philosophy or existentialism or postmodernism, but wrote simply to the common Christian theologian, and in doing so left a permanent and powerful mark upon Christendom.
On the chapter in question, “God’s Only Son,” Karl Barth asserts the divinity of Christ, and the implications found therein. The four adjectives that stand out in the epigraph – and hence, in the text – are helpful, adequate, compelling and exclusive. These four words define the boundary of the argument being attempted. Barth does not attempt to determine what divinity actually is in an ontological sense; instead, Barth seeks to claim the divinity of Christ as exclusive, compelling, helpful and adequate.
Question: Why do Christians say they “believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only son?” What do they mean when they say this? These two primary questions are addressed by Barth in this essay, and they are addressed to the Christian church as it does confession. This starting point, within the church, is made clear when Barth states that “starting from the Christian faith” (83).
Answer: The statement of Jesus as God’s only son means that the “revelation” of God is “compelling and exclusive,” and the “work” of God is “helpful and adequate” (82). These two statements and four terms define what Barth means when he claims that God is “uniquely living through” Jesus (82). The Incarnation of God in Jesus is compelling and exclusive in that in Jesus, there is the supreme and final Revelation of God. If Jesus is God made human (which Barth has spoken of in the previous articles), then there can be no other God made human – Jesus’ Revelation is exclusive. If Jesus is God made human, then we are compelled to seek and understand this Revelation. Furthermore, Barth claims, if Jesus is God made human, then this Revelation has shown us a God that if for us; this God made human is both helpful and adequate.
Method: Barth again uses the primary tool of exegesis and reasoning based on his prior assertions. Barth does not engage in questions of substance and essence, of eternity and time, but Barth affirms the definitions and answers of the early church fathers as they struggled with these issues. Barth commends them for not being “afraid to fight” (86); indeed, Barth confesses that “all we men do is problematic, shameful and joyless,” a caveat for the reader declaring that even Barth’s assertions must be held in the same understanding. Barth does not claim any special revelation or power – he only stands with the church, claiming what the church claims.
Significance: To those who have experienced abuse of power in Christ’s name and to those who have “reduced” Jesus to simply a man/teacher/great thinker, Barth stands for Christ’s divinity, over against these things. For one, to those in Barth’s era who had seen people lay claim to the special Revelation and even the divinity of God (Heil, Hitler = Heil, Marie), and subsequently experienced terrible acts of inhumanity at their hands, Barth reminds us that Jesus as God is both helpful and adequate. And to those in Barth’s time who spoke of the Christian message as powerless and empty in the face of evil and death, the theologian offers us hope in that Jesus as God is compelling and exclusive. This work of God, according to Christian faith, is both final and for our good.
Evaluation: It is now quite clear that Karl Barth is not concerned with abstract theology and questions, but with practical Christian theology, as can be determined from the bible and from the creeds. I believe that Barth accomplishes this to a certain degree, as is evidenced from his longevity. More importantly, I believe Barth offers up a new criteria for faith and progress; we must not discard or discredit the past, but instead we must look searchingly for truth where it is to be found, and then determine what is helpful and adequate, compelling and exclusive in the work of God as “He wills to be for us in His only-begotten Son, Jesus Christ” (87).
Church Dogmatics in Outline, Chapter 10
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline – Chapter 10
In chapter 10 of Karl Barth’s Dogmatics in Outline, the author tackles the portion of the Creed that contains the phrase, “Jesus Christ.” In doing so, Barth illuminates his Christ centric tendencies. This chapter makes the audacious claim to be expositing the “heart of the object of Christian faith” (65). The author makes his point very clear, that in the second article, “I believe in Jesus Christ,” we find the foundation of all Christian belief and theology.
Question: Barth asks the simple question, “Why must we confess that we believe in Jesus Christ?” Why not say, “I believe in God, but not in Jesus,” or “I believe in the movement Jesus started?” Barth is concerned here with positing that Christians confess that they believe in Jesus Christ, the historical person (69), as the actual and literal center of all else they claim to believe. Why is this so, asks Barth?
Answer: As the author claims on page 65, the “original Christian confession consisted of three words, ‘Jesus Christ (is) Lord.’” If Barth holds to the idea that the closer to the original faith we get, the closer we get to God (and it seems that this is most undoubtedly the case), then a priori the original creed of the Church is most likely to have essential truths therein. So, to Barth, the answer to the previously noted question of why is answered by the voice of the early church, as they proclaimed the Christian message of Jesus Christ as supreme.
Method: One does not arrive at Barth’s conclusion by speculating or philosophizing. Barth’s methodology once again is clearly an exegetical approach to first scripture, and then creeds (the closer to the Incarnation, the better). The reason that Barth accepts and lifts up the creeds and doctrines of the Reformation is that Barth believed, as the reformers did, that they were returning to the more original understanding of the Christian message. Barth, like the reformers, is concerned with refining our theology regarding God and Word, and is focused on the evangelical nature of this confession. As is evident in this chapter, the author speaks of Jesus Christ as God becoming man for our good. This is absolutely good news, claims Barth.
Significance: The significance of this chapter is primarily noted in demonstrating how Barth is Christ centric. By understanding Barth’s point of view regarding the Incarnation, one can more clearly understand the whole of Barth’s theology and dogmatics (65). Accordingly, this chapter is significant to any who might agree with the author regarding the nature of theology, scripture and Christian confession. To any and all reformed theologians, this chapter is a significant statement of belief, couched in modern terms and context, and paves the way for future hope and proclamation regarding the Event of God made man.
Evaluation: According to the measure of philosophers and historians, this chapter does not stand up. Barth does not prove, in fact, does not make an attempt to prove, why Jesus must be declared as central to the Christian faith. To Barth, that Jesus is central is established in the fact that Jesus Christ is central. There is no argument around or against this. Barth has declared, since the beginning, that we are playing with his rules, and these rules dictate that Jesus Christ is central. In fact, this is the very starting point for the theology and expositions that the author has engaged in.
Socrates and Plato might have decried this work as a work of rhetoric, as a work of a Sophist; to many, Barth does nothing more than try to convince the reader of his rightness, disregarding any truth that might be discovered outside the revealed truth already in the mind of this sophist. I would wager, however, that Barth did not perceive his work as sophistry, but instead as exposition of history – a history based in the work of God as done in and through Jesus. I stand in the middle, both admiring Barth for his boldness and clarity of thought as he engages in admittedly Christian theology, but also shuddering at the arrogant and dismissive ways that Barth seems to disregard all other arguments against his reasoning.
In chapter 10 of Karl Barth’s Dogmatics in Outline, the author tackles the portion of the Creed that contains the phrase, “Jesus Christ.” In doing so, Barth illuminates his Christ centric tendencies. This chapter makes the audacious claim to be expositing the “heart of the object of Christian faith” (65). The author makes his point very clear, that in the second article, “I believe in Jesus Christ,” we find the foundation of all Christian belief and theology.
Question: Barth asks the simple question, “Why must we confess that we believe in Jesus Christ?” Why not say, “I believe in God, but not in Jesus,” or “I believe in the movement Jesus started?” Barth is concerned here with positing that Christians confess that they believe in Jesus Christ, the historical person (69), as the actual and literal center of all else they claim to believe. Why is this so, asks Barth?
Answer: As the author claims on page 65, the “original Christian confession consisted of three words, ‘Jesus Christ (is) Lord.’” If Barth holds to the idea that the closer to the original faith we get, the closer we get to God (and it seems that this is most undoubtedly the case), then a priori the original creed of the Church is most likely to have essential truths therein. So, to Barth, the answer to the previously noted question of why is answered by the voice of the early church, as they proclaimed the Christian message of Jesus Christ as supreme.
Method: One does not arrive at Barth’s conclusion by speculating or philosophizing. Barth’s methodology once again is clearly an exegetical approach to first scripture, and then creeds (the closer to the Incarnation, the better). The reason that Barth accepts and lifts up the creeds and doctrines of the Reformation is that Barth believed, as the reformers did, that they were returning to the more original understanding of the Christian message. Barth, like the reformers, is concerned with refining our theology regarding God and Word, and is focused on the evangelical nature of this confession. As is evident in this chapter, the author speaks of Jesus Christ as God becoming man for our good. This is absolutely good news, claims Barth.
Significance: The significance of this chapter is primarily noted in demonstrating how Barth is Christ centric. By understanding Barth’s point of view regarding the Incarnation, one can more clearly understand the whole of Barth’s theology and dogmatics (65). Accordingly, this chapter is significant to any who might agree with the author regarding the nature of theology, scripture and Christian confession. To any and all reformed theologians, this chapter is a significant statement of belief, couched in modern terms and context, and paves the way for future hope and proclamation regarding the Event of God made man.
Evaluation: According to the measure of philosophers and historians, this chapter does not stand up. Barth does not prove, in fact, does not make an attempt to prove, why Jesus must be declared as central to the Christian faith. To Barth, that Jesus is central is established in the fact that Jesus Christ is central. There is no argument around or against this. Barth has declared, since the beginning, that we are playing with his rules, and these rules dictate that Jesus Christ is central. In fact, this is the very starting point for the theology and expositions that the author has engaged in.
Socrates and Plato might have decried this work as a work of rhetoric, as a work of a Sophist; to many, Barth does nothing more than try to convince the reader of his rightness, disregarding any truth that might be discovered outside the revealed truth already in the mind of this sophist. I would wager, however, that Barth did not perceive his work as sophistry, but instead as exposition of history – a history based in the work of God as done in and through Jesus. I stand in the middle, both admiring Barth for his boldness and clarity of thought as he engages in admittedly Christian theology, but also shuddering at the arrogant and dismissive ways that Barth seems to disregard all other arguments against his reasoning.
9.06.2007
Descriptive Review of Church Dogmatics in Outline, Ch 5
In my Introduction to Theology class, we have to do at least one "descriptive review" paper a week. The second week was on "Church Dogmatics in Outline" by Karl Barth. This paper is on the fifth chapter, entitled "God in the highest"
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline – Chapter 5
As Barth moves through the Apostles’ Creed in his book Church Dogmatics In Outline, the author spends a varying amount of time on each phrase and concept. For instance, Barth spends three chapters on “I believe,” trying to establish what it means for a Christian to say this in the context of doctrine. In chapter five, Barth tackles the beginning of the first article of faith, “… in God.”
Question: To begin with, Barth asks, what is the content of the proclamation of the gospel? In this context, the sub-question that this chapter deals with is, what does a Christian mean when he or she says “God?” The audience is the same as before; the students at Bonn, the nation of Germany and the rest of the world. Barth is also specifically speaking to a group of people who have recently placed their allegiance with a “god” in Hitler.
Answer: In answer to this question, Barth posits that the Christian is speaking of “God in the highest” (henceforth, God in excelsis). This phrase, in excelsis, captures what Barth feels to be the differentiating factor between humanity’s concepts of God and divinity (gods) and the God of Christianity. Barth expands on this by explaining that by in excelsis, he also means the God “who exists, lives, acts, and makes himself known to us … in Jesus Christ” (35). Barth goes even further, declaring that God in excelsis is “the One who stands above us,” is established in God’s self, and is “made manifest … only through Himself” (37). If God is only made manifest through God’s own actions and the Holy Scriptures (as Barth describes them) are a record of God’s “mighty acts,” then Barth has reiterated his earlier point that the only source of knowledge of/about God is through the Word (38).
Method: Barth speaks in the language of apophasis (negative theology) and uses the reasoning frame of an existentialist to arrive at his primary point, and then uses the logic to reach the conclusion that God is God in excelsis. Perhaps due to the abuses Barth has witnessed in the name of reason, the author’s launching point for the discussion of God is summed up in this statement, “if we glance at the history of human … assertion about this being [God] … [the] impression we receive is … of human waywardness and human violence with this concept, this idea of God” (35). Barth’s response to this troubling observation is that “when Christians speak of ‘God’, we may and must be clear that this word signifies a priori the fundamentally Other, the fundamental deliverance from that whole world of man’s … speculating” (36). It is clear that Barth believes it impossible to methodically and philosophically “reach” up to this God in the highest.
Therefore, Barth elaborates on the act of God “descending” as the definitive characteristic (to humankind’s perspective) of the God of Christianity. This proposition is forcefully stated on page 38, where Barth speaks to those who would attempt and prove God’s existence; “I speak of a God who proves Himself on every hand: Here am I, and since I live and act it is superfluous that I should be proved” (38). These “mighty acts of God” are shown to be in three categories (or strata): the work of creation, the covenant between God and humankind, and the work of redemption (39). It is through these acts that God descends, and thus, is God in excelsis.
Significance: To anyone in Barth’s time, the problem of usurpers has become a pressing issue; Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini among others have placed themselves in power in such a way as to steal the ‘title’ of Lord from God. Barth speaks vehemently against this, decrying any and all attempts to claim divinity outside of the three mighty acts of God found in the Holy Scriptures. This chapter’s definition of the God of Christianity is a pronouncement against any person who claims divinity for his/herself.
Evaluation: Outside of the context of the situation (indeed, outside the context of the book), this chapter stands on its own as a ‘natural negative theology.’ Barth comes to the “obvious” conclusion that we cannot know God, therefore God must reach us. The flaws in the author’s arguments can be illuminated by the very idea that we can claim to know God in the highest in spite of all the author’s posturing on the side of apophasis. Barth seems to say, we cannot know God, but we must know God. In spite of this apparent contradiction, the author eloquently speaks to the concept of the God of Christianity as a non-concept; he speaks about God as an acting, living being that is made known to us in Christ. Overall, one might still argue that to this day, we have not grasped the Otherness of God, instead continuing the pretentious ideas and concepts of divinity that allow us to continually reshape God in our own image. Barth stands against it.
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline – Chapter 5
As Barth moves through the Apostles’ Creed in his book Church Dogmatics In Outline, the author spends a varying amount of time on each phrase and concept. For instance, Barth spends three chapters on “I believe,” trying to establish what it means for a Christian to say this in the context of doctrine. In chapter five, Barth tackles the beginning of the first article of faith, “… in God.”
Question: To begin with, Barth asks, what is the content of the proclamation of the gospel? In this context, the sub-question that this chapter deals with is, what does a Christian mean when he or she says “God?” The audience is the same as before; the students at Bonn, the nation of Germany and the rest of the world. Barth is also specifically speaking to a group of people who have recently placed their allegiance with a “god” in Hitler.
Answer: In answer to this question, Barth posits that the Christian is speaking of “God in the highest” (henceforth, God in excelsis). This phrase, in excelsis, captures what Barth feels to be the differentiating factor between humanity’s concepts of God and divinity (gods) and the God of Christianity. Barth expands on this by explaining that by in excelsis, he also means the God “who exists, lives, acts, and makes himself known to us … in Jesus Christ” (35). Barth goes even further, declaring that God in excelsis is “the One who stands above us,” is established in God’s self, and is “made manifest … only through Himself” (37). If God is only made manifest through God’s own actions and the Holy Scriptures (as Barth describes them) are a record of God’s “mighty acts,” then Barth has reiterated his earlier point that the only source of knowledge of/about God is through the Word (38).
Method: Barth speaks in the language of apophasis (negative theology) and uses the reasoning frame of an existentialist to arrive at his primary point, and then uses the logic to reach the conclusion that God is God in excelsis. Perhaps due to the abuses Barth has witnessed in the name of reason, the author’s launching point for the discussion of God is summed up in this statement, “if we glance at the history of human … assertion about this being [God] … [the] impression we receive is … of human waywardness and human violence with this concept, this idea of God” (35). Barth’s response to this troubling observation is that “when Christians speak of ‘God’, we may and must be clear that this word signifies a priori the fundamentally Other, the fundamental deliverance from that whole world of man’s … speculating” (36). It is clear that Barth believes it impossible to methodically and philosophically “reach” up to this God in the highest.
Therefore, Barth elaborates on the act of God “descending” as the definitive characteristic (to humankind’s perspective) of the God of Christianity. This proposition is forcefully stated on page 38, where Barth speaks to those who would attempt and prove God’s existence; “I speak of a God who proves Himself on every hand: Here am I, and since I live and act it is superfluous that I should be proved” (38). These “mighty acts of God” are shown to be in three categories (or strata): the work of creation, the covenant between God and humankind, and the work of redemption (39). It is through these acts that God descends, and thus, is God in excelsis.
Significance: To anyone in Barth’s time, the problem of usurpers has become a pressing issue; Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini among others have placed themselves in power in such a way as to steal the ‘title’ of Lord from God. Barth speaks vehemently against this, decrying any and all attempts to claim divinity outside of the three mighty acts of God found in the Holy Scriptures. This chapter’s definition of the God of Christianity is a pronouncement against any person who claims divinity for his/herself.
Evaluation: Outside of the context of the situation (indeed, outside the context of the book), this chapter stands on its own as a ‘natural negative theology.’ Barth comes to the “obvious” conclusion that we cannot know God, therefore God must reach us. The flaws in the author’s arguments can be illuminated by the very idea that we can claim to know God in the highest in spite of all the author’s posturing on the side of apophasis. Barth seems to say, we cannot know God, but we must know God. In spite of this apparent contradiction, the author eloquently speaks to the concept of the God of Christianity as a non-concept; he speaks about God as an acting, living being that is made known to us in Christ. Overall, one might still argue that to this day, we have not grasped the Otherness of God, instead continuing the pretentious ideas and concepts of divinity that allow us to continually reshape God in our own image. Barth stands against it.
9.05.2007
Descriptive Review of Church Dogmatics in Outline, Ch 1
In my Introduction to Theology class, we have to do at least one "descriptive review" paper a week. The second week was on "Church Dogmatics in Outline" by Karl Barth. This paper is on the first chapter, entitled "The Task."
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline – Chapter 1
Any time a theologian attempts to convey their beliefs, one must take into consideration the context in which the beliefs were forged. Karl Barth was deeply affected (like many others) by the great wars, and especially by World War II and the rise of Nazism. That said, Barth expounds theological treatises that still hold sway in many communities, and his contribution to theology cannot and, indeed, must not be ignored or dismissed. This paper will attempt to analyze the first chapter of Barth’s book, Dogmatics in Outline, and offer an evaluation of its significance and continuing value.
Question: Barth begins very clearly in this chapter (a prolegomena of sorts) to explain to the reader to what task he has set out to accomplish. In the preceding preface, the author has already told us that these lectures are given to students at the University of Bonn immediately following the war (in 1946). Barth’s purpose in this chapter is to answer the question, “What is church dogmatics?” This is made unequivocally clear by his summary statement “dogmatics is…” (9). The rest of the sentence and this chapter attempt to finish this phrase satisfactorily for both the students and the rest of the world (both of whom were still reeling in the aftershock of WWII and the Holocaust).
Answer: Barth posits, “Christian dogmatics is an attempt … to state definite facts … and present them in the form of a doctrine” (9). He goes on to say that the subject of dogmatics (that which does the study) is the church and that the object (that which is studied) is the “proclamation of the Gospel” (9-10). According to Barth, the church alone can attempt dogmatics. Barth also clarifies that this dogma is “not a thing which has fallen from Heaven to earth” (10), which implies his acknowledgement of erroneous interpretations. Moreover, Barth insists that what we are concerned with is not simply theory, but instead is the very proclamation of the gospel: “what as Christians do we really have to say?” (11) In summary, dogmatics is the act of weighing critically the content of what the church says to the world about G-d. This leads to the next question, how must we go about this process?
Method: Barth’s method appears at surface level to be ‘sola scriptura.’ To some, Barth appears to ignore reason for an extremist view that ONLY the bible can provide truth. Barth’s background in existentialism, alongside his criticism of the so-called “German Christians,” is key here to understanding his desire to jump immediately to Scripture and Confession as the only relevant sources for critical dogmatics over against reason and philosophy. If G-d exists, Kierkegaard posited, then G-d cannot be objectively known (Grenz 7). This theologian believed that since this is true, the starting point is an individual’s “leap of faith.” Barth echoes this sentiment (and goes into greater detail in the next three chapters) along with the theology of Calvin; Barth’s foundational claim is that we cannot find G-d, only G-d can find us.
Therefore, the event of G-d’s incarnation is the only real Revelation. Furthermore, “Holy Scripture is… the document of the manifestation of the Word of God in the person of Jesus Christ” (13). Barth is offering a way of doing theology that is rooted and anchored in the line of succession from the Event of Jesus down to our present day. The fact that the world of theology is still fresh off of the first real wave of biblical criticism comes into play here; Barth’s understanding of scripture is filtered through the previous century’s attempt at understanding the bible better.
Significance: In a time of groundlessness, angst, and foolishness that had recently led to genocide and war, Barth provides an anchor – don’t just ‘feel’ your way through it, that only leads to perversions like National Socialism – instead, the church must take account of its own proclamations by the standards of scripture and confession. Barth’s statements echo down to today, when Christian doctrine is still twisted and co-opted for worldly and quite evil purposes. Don’t let your reason fool you, Barth beseeches, but trust in the revealed G-d found in Jesus.
Evaluation: Barth’s theology is good for what it is. He does not attempt to engage in certain questions, such as proving G-d’s existence. Instead, the author claims that we just can’t know objectively about G-d and therefore, once we have taken that leap of faith, then we must examine that faith against the Revelation found in Jesus Christ. My only qualms with this approach are that for one, Barth seems to trust rather completely in the scriptures’ accuracy regarding the Incarnation. Also, Barth does not seem to have a plan to address the problem of evil, which in my humble opinion, might have been a necessary task in the face of the holocaust.
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline – Chapter 1
Any time a theologian attempts to convey their beliefs, one must take into consideration the context in which the beliefs were forged. Karl Barth was deeply affected (like many others) by the great wars, and especially by World War II and the rise of Nazism. That said, Barth expounds theological treatises that still hold sway in many communities, and his contribution to theology cannot and, indeed, must not be ignored or dismissed. This paper will attempt to analyze the first chapter of Barth’s book, Dogmatics in Outline, and offer an evaluation of its significance and continuing value.
Question: Barth begins very clearly in this chapter (a prolegomena of sorts) to explain to the reader to what task he has set out to accomplish. In the preceding preface, the author has already told us that these lectures are given to students at the University of Bonn immediately following the war (in 1946). Barth’s purpose in this chapter is to answer the question, “What is church dogmatics?” This is made unequivocally clear by his summary statement “dogmatics is…” (9). The rest of the sentence and this chapter attempt to finish this phrase satisfactorily for both the students and the rest of the world (both of whom were still reeling in the aftershock of WWII and the Holocaust).
Answer: Barth posits, “Christian dogmatics is an attempt … to state definite facts … and present them in the form of a doctrine” (9). He goes on to say that the subject of dogmatics (that which does the study) is the church and that the object (that which is studied) is the “proclamation of the Gospel” (9-10). According to Barth, the church alone can attempt dogmatics. Barth also clarifies that this dogma is “not a thing which has fallen from Heaven to earth” (10), which implies his acknowledgement of erroneous interpretations. Moreover, Barth insists that what we are concerned with is not simply theory, but instead is the very proclamation of the gospel: “what as Christians do we really have to say?” (11) In summary, dogmatics is the act of weighing critically the content of what the church says to the world about G-d. This leads to the next question, how must we go about this process?
Method: Barth’s method appears at surface level to be ‘sola scriptura.’ To some, Barth appears to ignore reason for an extremist view that ONLY the bible can provide truth. Barth’s background in existentialism, alongside his criticism of the so-called “German Christians,” is key here to understanding his desire to jump immediately to Scripture and Confession as the only relevant sources for critical dogmatics over against reason and philosophy. If G-d exists, Kierkegaard posited, then G-d cannot be objectively known (Grenz 7). This theologian believed that since this is true, the starting point is an individual’s “leap of faith.” Barth echoes this sentiment (and goes into greater detail in the next three chapters) along with the theology of Calvin; Barth’s foundational claim is that we cannot find G-d, only G-d can find us.
Therefore, the event of G-d’s incarnation is the only real Revelation. Furthermore, “Holy Scripture is… the document of the manifestation of the Word of God in the person of Jesus Christ” (13). Barth is offering a way of doing theology that is rooted and anchored in the line of succession from the Event of Jesus down to our present day. The fact that the world of theology is still fresh off of the first real wave of biblical criticism comes into play here; Barth’s understanding of scripture is filtered through the previous century’s attempt at understanding the bible better.
Significance: In a time of groundlessness, angst, and foolishness that had recently led to genocide and war, Barth provides an anchor – don’t just ‘feel’ your way through it, that only leads to perversions like National Socialism – instead, the church must take account of its own proclamations by the standards of scripture and confession. Barth’s statements echo down to today, when Christian doctrine is still twisted and co-opted for worldly and quite evil purposes. Don’t let your reason fool you, Barth beseeches, but trust in the revealed G-d found in Jesus.
Evaluation: Barth’s theology is good for what it is. He does not attempt to engage in certain questions, such as proving G-d’s existence. Instead, the author claims that we just can’t know objectively about G-d and therefore, once we have taken that leap of faith, then we must examine that faith against the Revelation found in Jesus Christ. My only qualms with this approach are that for one, Barth seems to trust rather completely in the scriptures’ accuracy regarding the Incarnation. Also, Barth does not seem to have a plan to address the problem of evil, which in my humble opinion, might have been a necessary task in the face of the holocaust.
Descriptive Review of Surviving the Blight by Cannon
In my Introduction to Theology class, we have to do at least one "descriptive review" paper a week. The first week was on "Inheriting Our Mothers' Gardens" and I chose to review an essay by Katie Geneva Cannon on "Surviving the Blight."
With a title as consciously ambivalent as Inheriting Our Mothers’ Gardens, one may expect to find a wide swath of perspectives on the symbol of garden as it relates to “inherited” theology and worldview. In chapter four of this collection, Katie Geneva Cannon understands the metaphorical garden as related to the blighted plants of her African-American roots. In this, her main theme is the survival of a people and culture in spite of inhuman oppression and systemic de-humanization.
1. Questions/Audience:
Cannon, like the rest of the authors in the book, is writing to a global audience of women, and she is writing, in one sense, to inform others of her unique perspective. The author perceives her audience to be unaware to some degree of the “blighted” gardens of the African-American people who have suffered from the institution of slavery (and its effects) as it existed in the United States.
The questions that necessarily must be answered by all the authors in this book are (1) “from what history and culture does my version of feminist theology spring,” and (2) “what can I offer to the global dialogue as I examine this heritage.” Cannon’s unique take on these questions is apparent in her summary of the stories of oppression that begin her chapter; the author states that “hovering over all my cultural inheritance is the devastating reality that chattel tenure excluded any sort of social recognition of Black people as thinking, religious and moral beings” (83). Cannon must not only answer the first two questions, but she must do so with the reality that her cultural heritage is one that suffered under a conscious attempt at eradication.
2. Answer:
“Even with cultural self-expression outlawed, my ancestors never surrendered their humanity or lost sight of a vision of freedom and justice they believed to be their due” (84). With this statement, Cannon transitions from a recounting of the “blight” to a telling of the “surviving.” This is done with three specific “flowers” from her garden: folklore, spirituals, and prayer. In her accounts of all three, Cannon demonstrates that her heritage is full of the struggle for “freedom, resistance and self-determination” (85) and the “unflinching faith that they, too, were the people of God” (87). Both narrative and music are tied together in prayer, which the author describes as a “living bridge” (88).
3. Method:
The author approaches this task with the double-edged sword of narrative as her primary means of analysis. On the one hand, the reader can read the essay and feel as if all Cannon did was tell tales of her past; on the other hand, the tales of injustice and oppression allow the reader to see the garden from the author’s eyes. Cannon seems most concerned with placing the reader in the midst of the “blighted” garden, and letting the reader then appreciate more fully the beauty and strength of the surviving flowers.
4. Significance:
In a world where there are many injustices, the American enslavement and de-humanization of African-Americans stands out as one of humanity’s bleakest moments. If Cannon can effectively demonstrate for the global reader how her ancestors survived these times with a culture of “freedom, resistance and self-determination,” then hope can be offered to those in the world still suffering under the many facets of institutional and systemic oppression.
5. Evaluation:
As my tone may have indicated, I value both the author’s stories and approach. Cannon’s use of narrative is an effective tool as she first establishes why her ancestors’ history is unique in the magnitude and scale of the oppression. Next, her answers sufficiently demonstrate that “despite” the inhumanities, her culture retained its humanness and religion.
My only criticism is that Cannon does not go into much detail as to how exactly these “flowers” might be planted in someone else’s garden. Understanding one another is good, but contributing substantive answers to each other’s questions could be considered the true task of dialogue in theology. The author either does not have room or does not find it necessary to interpret her inherited culture for the non-African American. This, once again, is a double-edged sword; if any person so chooses, they could interpret the author’s history as similar to their own. Overall, I personally felt closer to an understanding of the author’s situation, and appreciated her task, method, and her application of the method.
With a title as consciously ambivalent as Inheriting Our Mothers’ Gardens, one may expect to find a wide swath of perspectives on the symbol of garden as it relates to “inherited” theology and worldview. In chapter four of this collection, Katie Geneva Cannon understands the metaphorical garden as related to the blighted plants of her African-American roots. In this, her main theme is the survival of a people and culture in spite of inhuman oppression and systemic de-humanization.
1. Questions/Audience:
Cannon, like the rest of the authors in the book, is writing to a global audience of women, and she is writing, in one sense, to inform others of her unique perspective. The author perceives her audience to be unaware to some degree of the “blighted” gardens of the African-American people who have suffered from the institution of slavery (and its effects) as it existed in the United States.
The questions that necessarily must be answered by all the authors in this book are (1) “from what history and culture does my version of feminist theology spring,” and (2) “what can I offer to the global dialogue as I examine this heritage.” Cannon’s unique take on these questions is apparent in her summary of the stories of oppression that begin her chapter; the author states that “hovering over all my cultural inheritance is the devastating reality that chattel tenure excluded any sort of social recognition of Black people as thinking, religious and moral beings” (83). Cannon must not only answer the first two questions, but she must do so with the reality that her cultural heritage is one that suffered under a conscious attempt at eradication.
2. Answer:
“Even with cultural self-expression outlawed, my ancestors never surrendered their humanity or lost sight of a vision of freedom and justice they believed to be their due” (84). With this statement, Cannon transitions from a recounting of the “blight” to a telling of the “surviving.” This is done with three specific “flowers” from her garden: folklore, spirituals, and prayer. In her accounts of all three, Cannon demonstrates that her heritage is full of the struggle for “freedom, resistance and self-determination” (85) and the “unflinching faith that they, too, were the people of God” (87). Both narrative and music are tied together in prayer, which the author describes as a “living bridge” (88).
3. Method:
The author approaches this task with the double-edged sword of narrative as her primary means of analysis. On the one hand, the reader can read the essay and feel as if all Cannon did was tell tales of her past; on the other hand, the tales of injustice and oppression allow the reader to see the garden from the author’s eyes. Cannon seems most concerned with placing the reader in the midst of the “blighted” garden, and letting the reader then appreciate more fully the beauty and strength of the surviving flowers.
4. Significance:
In a world where there are many injustices, the American enslavement and de-humanization of African-Americans stands out as one of humanity’s bleakest moments. If Cannon can effectively demonstrate for the global reader how her ancestors survived these times with a culture of “freedom, resistance and self-determination,” then hope can be offered to those in the world still suffering under the many facets of institutional and systemic oppression.
5. Evaluation:
As my tone may have indicated, I value both the author’s stories and approach. Cannon’s use of narrative is an effective tool as she first establishes why her ancestors’ history is unique in the magnitude and scale of the oppression. Next, her answers sufficiently demonstrate that “despite” the inhumanities, her culture retained its humanness and religion.
My only criticism is that Cannon does not go into much detail as to how exactly these “flowers” might be planted in someone else’s garden. Understanding one another is good, but contributing substantive answers to each other’s questions could be considered the true task of dialogue in theology. The author either does not have room or does not find it necessary to interpret her inherited culture for the non-African American. This, once again, is a double-edged sword; if any person so chooses, they could interpret the author’s history as similar to their own. Overall, I personally felt closer to an understanding of the author’s situation, and appreciated her task, method, and her application of the method.
7.18.2007
Orthowhatsy?
Update on what's happenin:
* workin and blorking.
* still trying to find my rhythm up here.
* excited about thursday small group! Starts tomorrow. have no friggin clue how it will go.
What I'm readin:
* Still on the PNHotW.
* Am really ready to finish and start my books for next semester!
Random thoughts on my PVM:
Just listened to an interview with Phylis Tickle and Tony Jones. They said some neat stuff, but the thing that stuck with me was some terms that I really like. Orthonomy and Orthoparadoxy. I'll start with some background for you 'uninformed' theologians out there...
Orthodoxy:: right or straight; correct <-doxy> from doxos; teaching, understanding. >>>
Orthodoxy is the foundation upon which the church of history has stood upon. There is no heresy without the opposing orthodoxy. Orthodoxy is the standard by which lines are drawn in the sand; orthodoxy allows one believer to say to another, "you are wrong, and I am right."
I would argue that this idea has been essential in the formation of the faith. Without the idea of orthodoxy, Christianity might have been assimilated into any number of previous religions or philosophies. Without this idea or rightness, the early Christian might have floundered about, and the confidence and assurance of knowing G-d that made Christianity so appealing in a time of great change and uncertainty might have dissipated. The movement of G-d's kingdom among the earth might have slowed down or flickered out without the idea of orthodoxy... might have.
Orthonomy:: right or straight; correct <-nomy> from nomos; originally harmony, later law (which meant harmony with G-d) >>>
Orthonomy is an appealing idea, one that is perhaps best captured in the phrase attributed to Keats, "beauty is truth, truth beauty." Phylis Tickle speaks of a time when she was lecturing to some Presbyterians regarding the validity of the virgin birth - the issue is apparently hotly debated in some of these circles. The story goes that as she was speaking, a youth stopped what he was doing in another room, and slowly drew closer to the talk. When she was done, the youth approached her and asked her about the whole topic - why was she talking about it? After explaining herself and why it was important to discuss this historical event, the youth said, "I don't know... It just seems too beautiful to not be true."
When examining the scope of history, the movement of G-d through history, the stories of salvation, redemption and restoration, and the beauty of all that G-d has done, sometimes (perhaps often) my response is - It's just too damn beautiful for it to be false. There's no way I can simply dismiss it out of hand. Even with hard proof to the contrary, my soul would speak out otherwise.
Unfortunately, this idea is centered and anchored around the idea that beauty defines truth, and beauty, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder. This idea also does not resonate with me, as pure relativity is too open to distortion and perversion. In my limited perspective, I cannot imagine that all truth is relative...
Orthoparodoxy:: right or straight; correct from para and doxos; para- meaning beyond or against and doxos meaning understanding, or teaching. Hence... orthoparodoxy = rightly beyond understanding... or a correct paradox.
I love this. It captures to me, more than any other idea, the thought that G-d is other-than, beyond our comprehension. It is time, in my humble opinion, for us to return to the mystery of our faith. Reason has helped us along. However, reason cannot carry us to the throne. Only pressing into the mystery, the beauty, and the presence of a living G-d can be our path.
I will dwell on this thought and post more later...
* workin and blorking.
* still trying to find my rhythm up here.
* excited about thursday small group! Starts tomorrow. have no friggin clue how it will go.
What I'm readin:
* Still on the PNHotW.
* Am really ready to finish and start my books for next semester!
Random thoughts on my PVM:
Just listened to an interview with Phylis Tickle and Tony Jones. They said some neat stuff, but the thing that stuck with me was some terms that I really like. Orthonomy and Orthoparadoxy. I'll start with some background for you 'uninformed' theologians out there...
Orthodoxy::
Orthodoxy is the foundation upon which the church of history has stood upon. There is no heresy without the opposing orthodoxy. Orthodoxy is the standard by which lines are drawn in the sand; orthodoxy allows one believer to say to another, "you are wrong, and I am right."
I would argue that this idea has been essential in the formation of the faith. Without the idea of orthodoxy, Christianity might have been assimilated into any number of previous religions or philosophies. Without this idea or rightness, the early Christian might have floundered about, and the confidence and assurance of knowing G-d that made Christianity so appealing in a time of great change and uncertainty might have dissipated. The movement of G-d's kingdom among the earth might have slowed down or flickered out without the idea of orthodoxy... might have.
Orthonomy::
Orthonomy is an appealing idea, one that is perhaps best captured in the phrase attributed to Keats, "beauty is truth, truth beauty." Phylis Tickle speaks of a time when she was lecturing to some Presbyterians regarding the validity of the virgin birth - the issue is apparently hotly debated in some of these circles. The story goes that as she was speaking, a youth stopped what he was doing in another room, and slowly drew closer to the talk. When she was done, the youth approached her and asked her about the whole topic - why was she talking about it? After explaining herself and why it was important to discuss this historical event, the youth said, "I don't know... It just seems too beautiful to not be true."
When examining the scope of history, the movement of G-d through history, the stories of salvation, redemption and restoration, and the beauty of all that G-d has done, sometimes (perhaps often) my response is - It's just too damn beautiful for it to be false. There's no way I can simply dismiss it out of hand. Even with hard proof to the contrary, my soul would speak out otherwise.
Unfortunately, this idea is centered and anchored around the idea that beauty defines truth, and beauty, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder. This idea also does not resonate with me, as pure relativity is too open to distortion and perversion. In my limited perspective, I cannot imagine that all truth is relative...
Orthoparodoxy::
I love this. It captures to me, more than any other idea, the thought that G-d is other-than, beyond our comprehension. It is time, in my humble opinion, for us to return to the mystery of our faith. Reason has helped us along. However, reason cannot carry us to the throne. Only pressing into the mystery, the beauty, and the presence of a living G-d can be our path.
I will dwell on this thought and post more later...
6.02.2007
Back in D-town
Update on what's happenin:
* I'm back in Dallas, and getting ready for my first weekend leading worship that is NOT an audition. Looking forward to getting back in that groove.
* I've been reorganizing all my praise stuff. After a few years of doing this praise thang, I feel like I have the organization process down pat. Once I get all the songs put into powerpoint format (should take me three-four days), I'll begin the process of going through the songs and powerpoints, checking for glaring errors, and begin numbering the songs so as to make the slides easily retrievable. This allows for an incredible amount of flexibility.
* Saw the movie Once with Jaimie last night. I loved it. But I love the Frames. Like, A LOT. So, a movie that had Glen Hansard (the lead singer) in a role in which he sang about 50% of the movie was a pretty good setup for me. The movie delivered. It was short and sweet, cute and not too sappy, and the music was gorgeous and Irish.
Random thoughts on my PVM:
I talked about the divergence of the 'church front' and the real life experience a little bit last week. I've read over it and want to talk a little more about this. I feel like there are many ways that we do this, and most of them are extremely subtle. We say things like, "I'll pray for you" and don't actually pray; we say we want to seek G-d wholeheartedly but still choose selfish things, and then we justify these choices without facing our self-servedness. I am not condemning these actions; they are very human actions. However, when we in the church begin to gloss over these things and pretend like they aren't happening, it's the first divergence. It grows further when people stop being accountable for larger decisions, like how we spend our money or how we treat our family. This is a common trend among Christians. Seems like Paul might have been addressing these issues in the very beginning of the whole Church thing.
We constantly swing to and fro regarding these things, but when you are in leadership, the split seems to grow larger and more blatant. Due to the holiness we ascribe to church leaders (or perhaps the holiness they ascribe to themselves), there is extra demand for perfection, perseverance and G-dliness. This demand, unfortunately, does not often lead to increased levels of these characteristics; instead, it seems to cause them to find new and creative ways to hide their own sinful natures, or perhaps new ways to point away from their own flaws by focusing on the flaws of others.
Maybe a better solution would be to begin each relationship with two things in mind: our own broken soul with all of its needs, weaknesses and failures AND the cross of Christ that both offers us any hope of justice and shows us how G-d wants us to make our choices. We put others first, always, everywhere in every situation. We trust that although we don't know the answers, we have hope in this G-d who died. And hopefully, we learn to be honest and open always, not hiding behind our sunday school answers and shiny fake smiles...
* I'm back in Dallas, and getting ready for my first weekend leading worship that is NOT an audition. Looking forward to getting back in that groove.
* I've been reorganizing all my praise stuff. After a few years of doing this praise thang, I feel like I have the organization process down pat. Once I get all the songs put into powerpoint format (should take me three-four days), I'll begin the process of going through the songs and powerpoints, checking for glaring errors, and begin numbering the songs so as to make the slides easily retrievable. This allows for an incredible amount of flexibility.
* Saw the movie Once with Jaimie last night. I loved it. But I love the Frames. Like, A LOT. So, a movie that had Glen Hansard (the lead singer) in a role in which he sang about 50% of the movie was a pretty good setup for me. The movie delivered. It was short and sweet, cute and not too sappy, and the music was gorgeous and Irish.
Random thoughts on my PVM:
I talked about the divergence of the 'church front' and the real life experience a little bit last week. I've read over it and want to talk a little more about this. I feel like there are many ways that we do this, and most of them are extremely subtle. We say things like, "I'll pray for you" and don't actually pray; we say we want to seek G-d wholeheartedly but still choose selfish things, and then we justify these choices without facing our self-servedness. I am not condemning these actions; they are very human actions. However, when we in the church begin to gloss over these things and pretend like they aren't happening, it's the first divergence. It grows further when people stop being accountable for larger decisions, like how we spend our money or how we treat our family. This is a common trend among Christians. Seems like Paul might have been addressing these issues in the very beginning of the whole Church thing.
We constantly swing to and fro regarding these things, but when you are in leadership, the split seems to grow larger and more blatant. Due to the holiness we ascribe to church leaders (or perhaps the holiness they ascribe to themselves), there is extra demand for perfection, perseverance and G-dliness. This demand, unfortunately, does not often lead to increased levels of these characteristics; instead, it seems to cause them to find new and creative ways to hide their own sinful natures, or perhaps new ways to point away from their own flaws by focusing on the flaws of others.
Maybe a better solution would be to begin each relationship with two things in mind: our own broken soul with all of its needs, weaknesses and failures AND the cross of Christ that both offers us any hope of justice and shows us how G-d wants us to make our choices. We put others first, always, everywhere in every situation. We trust that although we don't know the answers, we have hope in this G-d who died. And hopefully, we learn to be honest and open always, not hiding behind our sunday school answers and shiny fake smiles...
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