What is Love?

I love a whole lot of things -- my wife, my son, my mother, the Giants and the Ducks.  I love pizza and burritos.  You can see where I'm going with this.  The reality is that too often we speak of love without defining it. 

For Christians, one way of defining love has been to appeal to the word agape, which is supposedly the distinctive form of Christian love.  This love is sacrificial and unconditional, and according to Anders Nygren, it is a love that comes only from God, without any human interaction (why else would it be unconditional)?  Nygren didn't believe that any other form of love, especially eros, was appropriate for Christians.  Unfortunately, this definition is very passive.  We don't enter into the equation at all?  Well, if love is to be central to our theology, we're going to have to do a better job of defining the word.

I'm reading Tom Oord's excellent book, The Nature of Love:  A Theology, (Chalice, 2010), and Oord gives a definition of love that is quite helpful.  He defines love this way:

To love is to act intentionally, in sympathetic/empathetic response to God and others, to promote overall well being. (p. 17).

Oord goes on to provide other nuances and expansions, but this is the basic definition.  It is upon this basic definition that he builds his definition of agape. 

Agape is "acting intentionally, in response to God and others, to promote overall well-being in response to that which produces ill-being."  (p. 56). 

He goes on to write that the easiest way to define agape is to call it "in spite of Love." 

Agape is the form of love promoting overall well-being in spite of the negativity the lover faces.  Agape does good in spite of evil previously inflicted.  Just as God loves us in spite of our rebellion, complacency, and sin, so we ought to love others and ourselves in spite of the pain, suffering, and destruction others and we have done. (p. 56).

What is love?  It has many meanings and nuances, but ultimately it is a commitment to pursuing the well-being of the other (and of ourselves).  Can we commit ourselves to this calling?  Can we put this at the center of our theology? 

Mark (Belief) -- Review

MARK (Belief).  By William Placher.  Louisville:  WJK Press, 2010.  272 pages.

If your commentary budget has not yet run dry, check out William Placher's new book on the Gospel of Mark, the first in a new series of theological commentaries from Westminster John Knox. Placher, who died in 2008, was to be the co-editor of this series with Amy Plantinga Pauw. This volume, the last thing he wrote, is a fitting legacy.

I appreciate a commentator with deep theological sensitivity, someone who can build a bridge from the ancient text to the present faith experience. Though a theologian by training and not a biblical scholar, Placher demonstrates a keen understanding of the critical issues--but without letting this overwhelm the text's theological insights. As he notes (tipping his hat to Barth), critical scholarship is but the first step toward commentary. In Placher's hands the text comes alive as he interacts with it in the company of Augustine, Calvin and Barth.

Although Mark is the briefest teller of Jesus' story, Placher suggests that we should attend to Mark's presentation because of its historical, political, literary and theological perspectives. Mark's Gospel is closest to Jesus' own lifetime; it demonstrates awareness of the political issues of the day. While it might in some ways lack literary polish, its storytelling is sophisticated. As for theology, in the text we encounter a God who is a fellow-sufferer, one who understands our situation.

Placher takes us through Mark passage by passage, drawing from other theologians as needed and offering occasional "further reflections" on specific topics (Satan, ransom theory). The commentary begins by noting that Mark's original audience was familiar with a "book that started with archē (beginning)." Mark's opening lines suggest "a comparison between this story of a recently crucified teacher and the story of God's creation of the whole universe, the beginning of God's sacred Word." This gospel of a new beginning concludes with Mark's shorter ending (16:1-8), which leaves us at the empty tomb, hanging, needing more information.

Placher finds confirmation of the resurrection in Mark's inclusion of the women as witnesses. But the end of Mark is consistent with what Placher calls his "cryptic, dark theology"--which other gospel writers couldn't tolerate. Mark ends without appearances or commissions, offering only an ambiguity that might fit well our contemporary age, "when a Gospel that ends with Christ triumphantly present is harder to reconcile with the horrors of the world around us and doubts within us. Mark throws the ball to us, as he did to his first readers." Having heard the story, it's our responsibility to keep it alive in our lives and in our testimony.

Reposted from the Century Blog

A GOOD ENOUGH THEOLOGICAL DIET: Silence, Vision, and Action (Bruce Epperly)

Having stated in last week's post the need for a "good enough theology," Bruce Epperly begins today what will be a series of posts that offer a sense of what that might look like.  This week he looks to the Quakers for guidance, and in future posts will explore the contributions of evangelicals, Pentecostals, and others.  It should be a most enlightening series.  After you read Bruce's ponderings, I invite you to join in the conversation. 

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A GOOD ENOUGH THEOLOGICAL DIET:

SILENCE, VISION, AND ACTION

“Polydox in character, a good theology makes room for many theological possibilities and discovers wisdom in a variety of theological perspectives – the embodied and dynamic theology of process thought; the intimacy of evangelical theology; the open-endedness of liberalism; the liveliness of Pentecostalism; the non-violence of mimetic, Quaker, and Anabaptist theologies; the stability of fundamentalism; the unrest and challenge of liberation theology; the diverse wisdoms of womanist, feminist, and indigenous theologies; the incarnational spirit of Orthodox Christian theologies; the sacramental character of Catholic theologies; the wild adventurousness of Celtic theology; and the fiery spirit of mystical theology…and more. All these are part of a good enough theological diet.”  (Bruce Epperly, “A Good Enough Theology,” in Ponderings on a Faith Journey, August 10, 2010).

Last week, I asserted that a good enough theology requires a balance of many perspectives.

Just as a good diet requires different food groups, healthy theology requires varied foods for the spirit. A healthy theological diet has what Bernard Loomer described as “size,” it embraces diversity around an evolving center. In the weeks ahead, I will explore different aspects of a healthy theological diet, recognizing that no one perspective is all inclusive. While I believe that process theology provides the most holistic and inclusive basis for a healthy moderate and progressive theological perspective, I recognize that there are other perspectives that shape the theological journey.

Today, I will reflect on the integration of silence, vision, and action, characteristic of the Quakers or Friends. My words will be evocative and practical, rather than scholarly. I will be relating how Quaker spirituality and theology has shaped my journey and belongs in good enough theological diet.

When someone from a liturgical church asks me what happens in a Quaker meeting, I often humorously reply, “nothing.” We sit around a circle in chairs, we listen for God’s voice, and now and again, someone stands up and shares words that they feel have emerged in the silence. Quakers remind us that God speaks in a still, small voice – that God’s Spirit intercedes for us in sighs too deep for words. God’s Spirit intercedes and speaks within, however, all of us, not an elect or chosen few. Within every life shines an inner light, the light that John’s gospel describes – the light that created the universe and enlivens each person. We live in a God-filled, God-inspired universe, in which the least likely – the vulnerable, outcast, youthful, or physically or mentally challenged, reveal God’s presence.

Now, that’s a big vision: God is present in everyone’s life. There is a democracy of revelation that embraces both slave and master, outlaw and law abiding-citizen , alien and resident , poor and wealthy. This big vision leads to big political and cultural consequences: if God is present in every life, then every life is precious and deserves justice and fairness – this affirmation included in early Quaker history, African slaves and First Americans. Slavery and genocide are “heresies” because they deny God’s image in our brothers and sisters. (Later, Bishop Desmond Tutu was to call apartheid a heresy for the same reason.) Deep down, we are “friends” of everyone, recognizing the divinity in others is at the heart of the Christian journey.

Vision leads to action, and so does contemplation. In many progressive and moderate churches, contemplation and action, and spirituality and justice are placed in opposition. You can’t do both – social action is combative and disturbs our spiritual equanimity; spirituality is naval gazing that turns us away from justice and equality. The Quakers saw contemplation and action as interdependent, complementary, and requiring one another. Without contemplation, activism polarizes, repeats the sins of the oppressors, and leads to personal burn out. Without action, contemplation becomes “so heavenly minded that it’s no earthly good.”

In this brief reflection, I hope that you have gotten a first course in a good enough theology – we need a spiritual vision – a vision of God’s omnipresent care, revealed in each creature; we discover that vision by taking time for silence that awakens us to the divine light in ourselves and others; we complete circle by visionary action aimed at enabling all persons, indeed, all creatures, to have the opportunity to experience God’s inner light as their deepest reality.

This first course can be preached, prayed, and practiced, and be part of a balanced theological diet.

Bruce Epperly is a seminary professor and administrator at Lancaster Theological Seminary, pastor, theologian, and spiritual companion. He is the author of seventeen books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living, a response to Rick Warren’s Purpose Driven Life. His Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry, written with Katherine Gould Epperly, was selected Book of the Year by the Academy of Parish Clergy.  His most recent book is From a Mustard Seed: Enlivening Worship and Music in the Small Church, written with Daryl Hollinger.

Living Under the Big Tent --Christianity that is!

In my last post I entered the synchro-blog conversation about Big Tent Christianity.  In that post I lifted up the premise of Christian unity, one that has been with the church from the earliest days.  Even though Jesus is pictured calling for unity (John 17) and Paul and his successors urge it, unity has never been a reality that has been easy to live out in practice.  It seems as if we humans like to split off and do our own thing.  Christianity has, as is true of most social and religious forces, been driven by centrifugal forces rather than centripetal ones.  It is no wonder that political forces have felt it necessary to tame these forces with coercive laws -- whether it's Constantine, Justinian, or Elizabeth I.

So, how do we live together under the Big Tent?  Philip Clayton has noted the presence of two ever more distant poles that are driving religious life.  Of course these forces aren't just driving the church, they're driving society in general -- see the current political scene.

The image of a big tent is helpful, however.  Consider that a big tent is centered on a main center pole.  If we are to live together under a Big Tent, we'll need that center pole.  John Locke, who proposed a model of toleration for 17th/18th century Britain, suggested a minimalist creed.  My tradition, the Disciples, followed that lead and suggested that our creed by that of Peter --  "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God" (Matthew 16:16).  To follow this lead suggests that we embrace a common faith (trust) in the person of Jesus, who reveals to us the way and purpose of God.  Of course that simple creed leaves a lot of room for debate/discussion -- but is it enough?  No Trinity there (although that concept isn't fully developed in the New Testament).  No atonement theories either or even sacramental ones).  So what makes for a sufficient pole?  Is Peter's confession sufficient for us to live under the same big tent?  

Theology and Liberty; or, How do you think theologically but not dogmatically?

Icon of Gregory of Nyssa
4th cent. theologian

I am a Disciple of Christ.  In making that claim, the confession is two fold.  First of all, I am a follower of Jesus Christ, as are all Christians.  I confess him to be the Christ and Son of God (Matthew 16:16) and name him  Lord and savior.  I am also a Disciple of Christ by denominational affiliation.  The Disciples emerged on the 19th century frontier as a reform movement concerned about the unity of the body of Christ.  The founders were disturbed by the fragmentation that was experienced on the frontier.  Being influenced by a number of factors, including the emergent democratic feelings after the founding of the American nation along with the Enlightenment ideas of John Locke and others, they embraced the idea of a simple biblical Christianity, a faith founded on a commitment to New Testament Christianity.  This led to a rejection of creeds and official faith statements.  Unfortunately, over time, many in this tradition confused this commitment to non-creedal Christianity rooted in a commitment to recovering the New Testament understandings of faith with being non-theological.  That is, many in the Disciples concluded that since we're non-creedal it doesn't matter what you believe.  You're free to do what you want, without any touchstone at all -- in other words, something akin to what you'll find in many Unitarian Universalist churches.   But that is not how the earliest members of this tradition understood their task.

Although not as well known today as he was in earlier years, British Disciple theologian William Robinson, was one of the most thoughtful of Disciple theologians.  He was influenced by Karl Barth, but sought to go beyond Barth to the biblical text itself.  He understood that we are non-creedal, but he pushed Disciples to think theologically.  In a book written in the 1940s entitled What Churches of Christ Stand For, Robinson gave a definition of what this work might look like (Churches of Christ here is the British equivalent of the Disciples and not to be confused with the more conservative American portion of the Stone-Campbell Movement).

Whilst Churches of Christ have, like Catholic Christianity in general, always placed great emphasis on the Church as a Divine Society, on Church unity, and on the sacraments of Baptism and the Lord's Supper as real channels of grace; yet they have differed significantly from Catholic Christianity in rejecting creeds and confessions and have regarded them as divisive in their influence.  In this their attitude has been nearer to that of Quakers.  It must not, however, be understood that they have been unconcerned about belief itself, regarding it as a matter of indifference what was believed.  No! they have contended earnestly for the "faith once for all delivered to the saints," but they have ever been opposed to the summing up of that faith in a creed or confession, regarding the New Testament itself as a sufficient basis of union for all Christians.  Moreover they have always been suspicious of metaphysical explanations of the facts of Christianity, and have refused to make them binding upon men's consciences.  Thus they have never regarded theories  of inspiration, of the entrance of sin into the world, of predestination, or the Atonement, of the Incarnation, and of the Trinity, as of the Faith.  . . . They declared that they themselves were neither Arminian nor Calvinistic, neither Unitarian nor Trinitarian but simply Christian; and they saw clearly enough that such confessions were divisive in their effects.  Their attention seems not to have been directed at all to such a simple statement of facts as the Apostle' Creed.  There is no doubt that they would have accepted every clause of it, but only because they could have found these clauses within the New Testament itself, and because the expressed the facts  of the Faith and not abstract theological dogmas.   (William Robinson, What Churches of Christ Stand For, (Balsall, Heath, UK:  Berean Press, 1946, pp. 63-64)

Although the use of the word "facts" might be off putting for some, the point here is that there is freedom to wrestle with the biblical text and from that make theological affirmations.  Disciples have, for the most part, shied away from what he refers to at "metaphysical explanations," speculative statements that are more rooted in Greek philosophy than biblical understandings.  Thus, he might affirm the "facts" of the Trinity without choosing to embrace any particular theory of the the Trinity.  

What we learned over the years, as Disciples committed to unity among Christians, is that it is difficult to abandon abstract summations.  It's difficult to throw off traditions long passed on.  If you throw off some, you have a tendency to adopt others, perhaps new ones.  So, how do we think about our faith (which is what theology involves) without becoming "dogmatic"?  

Sun of Righteousness, Arise! -- Review

SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS, ARISE! God’s Future for Humanity and The Earth.  By Jürgen Moltmann.  Minneapolis.  Fortress, 2010.  254 pp.

Too often we’re presented with theological “choices” that are either so narrow that they exclude a vast number of those who call themselves Christian, or so broad that there is little substance left. Jürgen Moltmann walks down a middle path, not too light or too heavy, not to narrow and not so broad as to leave the faith empty. For many modern Christians, Moltmann has been and continues to be a faithful theological companion, opening new vistas, offering new ways of seeing God and God’s relationship with humanity and the world. His is a theology that is both evangelical in the truest sense of the word and ecumenical. It recognizes the suffering present in the world, but it also foresees a time when God will be all in all, so that suffering will be no more. When a new book emerges from his pen, many gravitate toward it, hoping to find something that will help sustain one’s faith journey.

In The Sun of Righteousness, Arise! Moltmann takes up many of the issues that have been close to his heart over the years – the future of the world, the resurrection of Christ and humanity, justice, the Trinity and creation. The chapters in this book, seventeen in all, are not original creations; rather this book is a gathering together of lectures, meditations, sermons, and essays that were either presented at the meetings of the Gesellschaft für Evangelische Theologie or published in the journal Evangelische Theologie over the past the past ten years. They may have previous incarnations, but they are available for the first time in English translation (ably provided by Margaret Kohl).

In presenting these essays to the world, Moltmann has a specific goal in mind. He wants to present that which is “specific, strange and special about the Christian faith” (3). He wants to engage the broader world, including the various religious traditions, from an open but confessional standpoint, sharing both what Christians believe and don’t believe. And at the heart of his confession is, for him, “the confession of Christ and belief in the resurrection” (3).

Moltmann lays out his book in four parts: “The Future of Christianity;” “The God of Resurrection”; “God is Righteousness and Justice” (under which he places much of his discussion of the Trinity); and “God in Nature.” There is something here for everyone, whether one’s questions center on the resurrection, justice or evolution.

Moltmann begins by offering a vision for the future of the church as it emerges from Christendom and the optimism of the nineteenth century, an age in which the European “Christian” nations took on a messianic identity and sought to impose a new “Christian” world order, what came to be known in Germany as Culture Protestantism. That world came crashing down in 1914, but the post World War I era has offered the potential for a rebirth of the church. As with other writers, such as Phyllis Tickle and  Harvey Cox, Moltmann envisions historically-rooted paradigms of the church, beginning with the hierarchical, which he rightly dates back to as early as Ignatius of Antioch and not to the Fourth Century, wherein the priest is the symbol of Christ’s presence. The Reformation offered a Christocentric Paradigm, where the church as a whole becomes the sign of Christ’s presence in the world. In this new age hierarchical understandings begin to give way to a may egalitarian one, where the division between priest and laity disappears. As with Cox, Moltmann sees the beginnings of an age of the Spirit, which he calls The Charismatic Paradigm. In this new age, the focus is on releasing the gifts present in the community. It is a “trinitarian argument for unity in diversity and diversity in unity” (24). The difference between Moltmann’s vision and other contemporary critiques of the history of the church is that he doesn’t take a condemnatory position. Rooted in a social Trinity view, he is able to bring these paradigms together, recognizing that they may not always appear together, but all have aspects to them that are valuable, for ultimately the Triune God is the church’s dwelling place, while the church is “God’s living space on earth” (26). What is powerful about this perspective is that it both challenges and encourages. It’s not a restorationist perspective, but one that sees the Trinitarian God reaching out to creation, and drawing Creation into the future.

Moltmann offers a vision of a substantive Christianity that embraces the Resurrection and the Trinity without become narrow in his perspective. He believes that without the resurrection we know nothing about Jesus, and that the resurrection is an essential part of the Christian faith, something that will prove challenging to many Progressives who find it difficult to embrace resurrection. But, Moltmann shall not be deterred. Writing of the liberal quest for the historical Jesus, he opines:

It pushed out the raising of Jesus from the dead, and came to terms with death as the natural end of human beings. The historical Jesus became “historical” through his death in the way that all human beings are subjected to transience through their deaths, and with their deaths become people who are past and gone. All that is left of him is a passing remembrance” (40).

This is not sufficient for him. For him, the resurrection is key to the future, to the Trinity, and to God’s justice. Through the Resurrection, Jesus becomes the “leader of the new humanity.” (41). In light of this commitment, Moltmann lays out his vision of the nature of resurrection in several essays, insisting that in Christ’s death and resurrection, death has ended and hell has been destroyed. Why is resurrection important? It is central because the heart of the Christian message is the pursuit of a life worth living. It beckons us to commit ourselves to a common world struggle “for life , for loved and loving life, for life that communicates itself and is shared, life that is human and natural – in short, life that is worth living in the fruitful living space of this earth (77).

Rooted in this commitment to resurrection life, Moltmann moves on to righteousness and justice. Interestingly, it is in this section that he places his discussion of the Trinity. In the course of this discussion, Moltmann makes it clear that Trinitarianism isn’t like any other form of monotheism. The Christian embrace of the Trinity transforms one’s understanding of monotheism, and if pursued in the direction he believes one should, it can move away from patriarchy, which is rooted in the Roman vision of God. Returning to Israel’s understanding of God, he envisions a view of God that seeks to liberate the people and, who through God’s Shekinah, is an indwelling God. Because God is a community of persons, the church is invited to participate in this community, even as God as Trinity indwells both church and people through the Spirit. The fellowship that is shared within the Trinity isn’t a closed circle, but one that opens up to include the world within the circle. In light of this confession, Moltmann envisions true Christianity as a “movement of hope in this world, which is often so arrogant and yet so despairing. As a movement of hope, it is also a movement of healing and liberation.

Because of Moltmann’s commitment to life and to justice, he views of evolution and even nature from a theological perspective. He doesn’t dispute the science behind evolution, but he’s insistent that the science isn’t ultimate. This is especially true of some interpretations of human evolution, that have given rise to unfettered capitalism and the abuse of others, for if we are mere brutes, with the fittest alone deserving to survive, then we have fallen far short of the Christian vision of humanity and nature itself.

As is true of any compilation of texts, this one has its peaks and valleys. There is a sense of a whole here, but it is more Moltmann’s theological vision rather than a specific outline. Readers will gravitate to the texts that interest them the most. For this reviewer, it was the chapters on resurrection and Trinity that proved to be the most compelling sections, others might find others equally compelling or more so. If you are like this reviewer, and see Moltmann as one of the great Doctors of the Church, ranking with Augustine, Aquinas, Calvin, and Barth, then you will find this to be a most welcome gift. We need theologians whose perspectives are broad, and yet are deeply rooted in the Christian faith. Herein one will find much of substance, that which is “specific, strange and special about the Christian faith” (3).

Reposted with permission from the Englewood Review of Books