Remembering the “Terrorist” Attack

FORGIVE. He did.

James McClendon and Christology

For Incarnation class, we have to present on a theologian. I heard the word “Anabaptist” and jumped on it. It turned out to be James McClendon. I do have some significant sympathies with him, but I am unsure I would follow him all the way. Below is a short description from the designated reading, with specific emphases, and partial analysis, followed by three questions. Let me know what you think.

Christology as a Connective Narrative of Action, Authority, and Actionable Remembrance: The Narrative Incarnation of McClendon, an Ecclesiodemic

“The theologian, therefore, is not an academic but an ecclesiodemic. He may work in a university but he is not of the university. He must be multilingual, but he must remember that is hometown is Jerusalem, not Athens.” ^[1]

Before diving quickly into James McClendon’s work, to appropriately understand his work, we must see that this work of doctrine is a connective work by an ecclesiodemic. This volume is written after the Ethics volume and before Witness; however, it is all written to form the church for witness. This is for the church as it seeks to live within the story of the Lord. It is in this context that McClendon’s three formative questions are intelligible: “How Christ-like must disciples’ lives be?”; “How can monotheists tell the Jesus story?”; and “What Right has Jesus to be absolute Lord?” ^[2]

Also, McClendon finds crucial the notion that Christologies must speak to their time. This will be addressed in part later.

The Christological Models
Before moving into his own Christology, McClendon takes account of three formative Christological models: the Logos model, the two-nature model, and the historical models. The Logos model is rooted in “[t]he early formulations of Jesus’ identity…worked out in the context of the missionary expansion of the Christian movement in the Roman Empire.” The missionary expansion of Christianity had a theopolitical quality to it, challenging modes of life, and subsequently their politics, in addressing two questions: How ought a Christian behave? – specifically, “what sort of participant in the wider society was a Christian to be?” or fundamentally “who or what was Christ” the redeemer? – and the second, how could the Christians make a direct connection between a widely accepted belief in “a one high God” and faithful witness. ^[3]

It is this missionary expansion that found itself theologically between the Ebionites – who seemed to have had a correct understanding of Jesus but did not stay within the Christian majority for whatever reason – and the Gnostics – who thought of matter as evil, the spirit as good, conceived of divine emanations, maintained a secret revelation, and denied the actual death of Jesus. The Logos Christology worked amidst its context, that of the Ebionites and the Gnostics, and McClendon concluded: “In retrospect, the value of the Logos Christology lay not in its aptness for later times but in its liberating role when it first appeared: Despite the subordinate place it assigned to Christ, it answered the question of Christ’s rightful authority (question one) better than Ebionites had, while it overcame the dualism of the Gnostics by affirming the identity of the (spiritual) Logos and the (human) Jesus.” ^[4]

The two-natures model, the conclusion of Nicea I and Chalcedon, McClendon addresses next. Citing the discussion between Arius and Athanasius (heteroousious vs. homoousious) McClendon moves into Nicea I, ultimately concluding that “Jesus’ right to Lordship was grounded in his substantial nature”; however, Nicea I was unable to sufficiently answer, “how was this high claim about Christ to be related to the very human Jesus story related in the Gospels?” ^[5]

By way of the discussion between Nestorious and Cyril of Alexandria, McClendon moves next into Chalcedon. Chalcedon maintained the Nicean two-nature model, proclaiming the perfection of Christ in “humanhood” and “Godhood” while still hoomousios “both with the Father and with us.” ^[6] This conclusion rejected both the monophysites and the Nestorians. McClendon concluded that while Chalcedon “affirmed a transcendent ground for the Lordship of Christ… [it] seems remote indeed from the humble Savior.”^[7] Chalcedon in its quest for “rational coherence” in the face of its proclaimed paradox may have even contravened their fifth century notions of rationality.^[8] As for meeting the concerns of the monophysites and the Nestorians around the Jesus stories, understood as a “viable model of conduct for the disciples”, Chalcedon seemed to fail.^[9]

In Chalcedon’s attempt to answer questions, it raised more questions than it could answer. This fault of Chalcedon, McClendon notes, provoked later theologians to attempt to rescue it, namely Menno Simons and Pope Pius IX, but they ultimately failed. In response McClendon concludes that both Simons and Pius IX attempted to work within the two-natures model from their own contexts and so we could move on rather than rehabilitate them and their conclusions.

McClendon divides the historical model – socio-historical criticism – into two main schools, the eschatological and the mythic. He names Immanuel Kant, Hermann Reimarus, Albert Schweitzer, Georg Hegel, and the history of religions school (Albrecht Ritschl and Adolf von Harnack) as those who developed the eschatological stream. With two epistemological assumptions, privileging independent critical judgment and history as an objective tool, a scholar could reach the truth. The eschatological tradition also noted the forward looking direction of early Christianity, and its perceived dishonesty or incompetence, and so put history in tension with eschatology. Thus this tradition understood itself as a rescue operation, shedding misconceptions and untruths, even at times what may have been the very founder(s) held, in favor of a recognized transcendent or generalized set of truths that were understood to last through future ages.

The other historical model, myth and the historical Jesus, was developed by David Strauss, Rudolf Bultmann, and the writers of The Myth of God Incarnate. The myth model often combined two definitions of myth – a “story of the gods (or of God)” and “a story of events outside our time and space” – and resulted in creating a dichotomy between God and history.^[10] God and history became an either/or instead of a both/and. The implication of this concerning Jesus, either makes Jesus historical and not mythical, therefore not divine, or mythical and not historical, therefore not existent in a tangible sense – not incarnate.

McClendon, in an aside, understands Wolfhart Pannenberg within the historical model, but concludes that the historical model has had its day. McClendon citing Hans Frei, surmises that the historical model was terribly flawed even on its own terms: it could not adequately deal with the divinity of Jesus and therefore had little to say on the incarnation. However, on the positive, “[i]t brought the confession of Christ’s humanity into its own day.” ^[11]

McClendon’s Narrative Christology
From the beginning of McClendon’s Christology, he outlines the purpose of Christology (an outline of orthodoxy if you will): “(1) A teaching church must teach the Lordship of Christ…. (2) A teaching church must teach the unity of God…. (3) A teaching church must teach the authenticity of life in Christ.”^[12] McClendon judges that “[e]very Christian generation must respond to these demands” because it is upon these three points that the “possibility of authentic spiritual life depend[s].” ^[13]

McClendon next briefly recites three contemporary Christologys: Karl Barth in both his revelation and reconciling models, Paul van Buren’s Christ to the gentiles but not a messiah to the Jews, and John Cobb Jr.’s double-belonging, psychological work of a new humanity. Presumably McClendon notes the above three, and lists numerous others, to show that his work is not out of the ordinary. After all, he asserts that Christology “remains a creative theological task in this and every generation.” ^[14]

And so, McClendon begins his narrative Christology, because “the models on which earlier approaches were formed now appear partly incoherent”: “all deserve respect; none can take the place of Scripture—or of hard work now.”^[15] In light of this assertion, he begins with Phillipians 2:5-11 and the divestment of ontological high and low Christologies in favor of task and achievement.^[16] Tellingly, McClendon next summarizes the story of Jesus, resting heavily on the vocations of prophet (expectancy), priest (openness), and king (creativity), and as a result, Jesus’ counter politics to the status quo and subsequent death. But where does this authority to challenge the systems of the day come from? Is the point of Jesus’ life the incarnation of God’s authority, God’s politics, God’s basileia? The miracles, specifically the conception and resurrection, are addressed next by McClendon.

The miraculous conception, McClendon asserts, is obviously a virginal conception, but not a virgin birth or immaculate conception. He next points that the stories of Jesus “do not say or suggest” Jesus’ divinity was because of the miraculous birth, nor the “cause or source of Jesus’ sinlessness”, nor “a touchstone of Christian orthodoxy”; instead the virginal conception is a sign of faith, faithfulness to the God of Israel, and the work of the Spirit in humanity.^[17] It is “the full presence of God in the full story of Jesus.”^[18] Likewise the resurrection is a sign, not an adoption. It “is nothing less than God’s (re)identification of the entire earthly life of Jesus of Nazareth, from conception to its last breath, with God’s own immortal life.”^[19]

As Jesus does not remain dead, the story likewise continues – missionary expansion and church formation by remembrance (anamnesis) – in acts like baptism and the meal, and the witness to the defining titles of Jesus. It is in this that two-narrative Christology lays; where the story of Adam and Eve’s fall is dialogically juxtaposed with Christ born, crucified, and risen. These two stories “are at last indivisibly one. We can separate them for analysis, but we cannot divide them; there is but one story there to be told. Finally, this story becomes gospel, becomes good news, when we discover that it is our own.” ^[20]

However, McClendon is not without perceivable problems. First, “[w]hat right has this Jesus, the Jesus rendered in this one narrative that is two, to be Lord of us each and all? … Jesus, the risen Jesus upon whom the story concenters, has this right if (and only if) in this very story we are confronted, as by an unimpeachable authority, with God’s own claim upon our lives.”^[21] Importantly, I want to note that McClendon roots his answer in Jesus as promise maker and promise fulfiller: “Luke’s gospel captures this well with its anticipation themes: a life of promises made and promises at great price kept.”^[22] There is a second problem of coherence and particularity, however, it is out of this particularity that we can recognize that there are “always two stories—God’s and ours—told together.”^[23] The third problem is the question: “How Christ-like are disciples lives to be?”^[24] But this is the easiest to answer. A two-narrative Christology moves us straight into action, into participation. It works well with anamnesis as the stories form the community of actionable remembrance, and so the action of the community is always tied back into the stories and the authority of God. Action, witness, faith, and the church are all wrapped inseparable.

Questions:

1. The two-narrative Christology, does it work? Is it compelling?

2. Does the urge to make the life of Christ intelligible within one’s context, admittedly a different context than the Mediterranean in the fourth century, break our connection to the past, or should we re-understand our connection to the church/believers past? In other words, does this epistemological turn, which is in part clearly obvious, allow some to too easily establish their own terms for orthodoxy or faithfulness?

3. Is the step towards the descriptive work of Jesus’ ontological nature, the two-nature Christology, an effort to explain more of the mystery than we ought, although it hopes to function as an abstract way of retelling the stories, and therefore the authority, of Jesus? In other words, might we begin to understand the two-nature language around Jesus as an attempt to control – or lock the identity of Jesus into ontological stasis, rather than the interruptive dynamism of narrative that must be continually retold to different contexts – in a Constantinian fashion (to be Yoderian about this, see Precarious Peace) that forms a controlling discourse and therefore a controlling church and controlling theology?

__________
[1] Kim Fabricius, Propositions on Christian Theology: A Pilgrim Walks the Plank (Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2008), 127.
[2] James Wm. McClendon Jr., Systematic Theology: Doctrine Volume 2 (Nashville, TN; Abingdon Press, 1994), 250.
[3] Ibid., 251.
[4] Ibid., 252.
[5] Ibid., 254.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Ibid.
[10] Ibid., 260.
[11] Ibid., 263.
[12] Ibid.
[13] Ibid.
[14] Ibid., 265.
[15] Ibid.
[16] Ibid., 268.
[17] Ibid., 270.
[18] Ibid.
[19] Ibid., 271.
[20] Ibid., 276-277.
[21] Ibid., 277.
[22] Ibid., 278.
[23] Ibid.
[24] Ibid.

News Flash: Modern News Story Incites Populist Fears

From the New York Times:

JERUSALEM — A three-foot-tall tablet with 87 lines of Hebrew that scholars believe dates from the decades just before the birth of Jesus is causing a quiet stir in biblical and archaeological circles, especially because it may speak of a messiah who will rise from the dead after three days.

If such a messianic description really is there, it will contribute to a developing re-evaluation of both popular and scholarly views of Jesus, since it suggests that the story of his death and resurrection was not unique but part of a recognized Jewish tradition at the time.

Now, I’m not a Biblical Scholar, but as a “theologian” I can say… woo hoo? It seems that the Times just doesn’t get it when it comes to Christianity. God died, not a sole human. This was scandalous then as it is now. Likewise, it was equally, if not more, scandalous that in the resurrection, Jesus did not exact revenge.

It is important to note that what this article legitimately brings up is the existence of a stone that counters other historical discoveries. This is quite specific, important, and something to be dealt with. However, even if one can establish a long tradition of Messiahs dying, it doesn’t explain a great deal about the Jesus story. I expect that the majority of the scholars in the article understand this, but I’m not surprised with the tone of the article. Its right up there with the rigorous journalism of the history channel.

Theologians aren’t being thick headed or stubborn. Theres just a lot more too Christianity than it is given credit for.

Edit: Oh and anyone looking for a longer treatment, I see now that D. W. Congdon has a post on this as well, a longer one at that.

So Close, but so Far

I’m “home for the holidays” and going to church with friends. (By the way, Union’s J-term, which means for me no school in January, is sweeeeet.) This last sunday was… interesting. Apparently the pastor was stuck somewhere in the lower 48 because his plane flight was canceled and so they showed a Nooma video, specifically the one named breathe. Now other than a being constantly reminded about that crazily catchy, techno song (honestly, that song is worse than “Its a Small World After All”), I was a bit conflicted over the video and the following discussion.

Rob Bell, of Velvet Elvis fame, does these videos that are contemplative and artsy. I like that they’re short, eloquent and generally touch on an interesting topic. In short, they’re accessible and very helpful for High Schoolers with short attention spans and College students with little time. The production people know what they’re doing and doing a good enough job at it.

But I had a beef with the content of the video: it did not go far enough and because it did not go far enough, it missed the ability to really go after Christological change. The video is on breathing, the significance of breath and looking around one’s self at the daily actions of God. I do not mean to say that this is irrelevant, in fact, one must attempt to be constantly aware of their surroundings to make much difference. However, this video was on breathing and the theological theme of breathing in the Bible. Yes he covered God breathing in breath/life and yes he covered the literary connection between breath and Spirit (ruah and numa). He even went onto the name of God which he says sounds like breath – ya know, the one that isn’t pronouncable and you’re supposed to substitute Adonai (but he still tries to pronounce it anyways). But Bell left it at that: we should notice God all around us, even in our breathes we are dust and yet also created creatures by the creator God. You say, isn’t that good? Sure its good, but not good enough. How do we recognize God acting in the world around us? Bell leaves his content up to the whims of the audience.

We recognize God acting around us when we know well the story of Jesus – the one who gave up his breath (Luke 23:46). Fundamentally breathing for a Christian is about giving up our breath, not living on life support. We do not jealously guard our breath, but constantly breath our last. Bell didn’t address the glaring Christological implication and thematic connection and in so doing, I think he hamstrung his video. How do we notice God around us? By seeing others give up their breath. Where can we breathe our last for the sake of the basileia?

Still farther, to avoid someone allowing their cultural individualism to interpret “breathing their last” as praying on their own or something equivalent, a plurality of uncomfortable questions should be raised. What annoys me about the discussion questions in popular Christian works are how open ended they can be. Questions shouldn’t merely reiterate questions from the film but should drive the audience farther: “What is Christ’s sacrifice? He was marginalized, where can you sacrifice for the marginalized?” “What about sacrifice in terms of the disparity in America between wealth and poverty? Will just giving a tithe really do anything to solve the issue? Is a tithe really sacrifice? What about life style change?” “What about white privilege?”

Fundamentally I think when it comes to functioning pastorally, uncomfortability is the constant state of theological exhortation. And here I think I must confess. I did not speak up about the Christ’s breathing. I was visiting this smallish night service and I said to myself, “I’m not here to be an ass. Don’t be an ass, David. Don’t be elitist. We’re about people, not arguments.” Which raises another question, those of us who spend our lives in theology, how are to we substantively approach people? I felt I needed to be a part of their community to really speak up and picking fruitful times, not just arguing with everyone, is the name of the game, but not saying anything feels pretty crappy as well. I didn’t speak up and lost the opportunity. How does one approach this delicate kind of situation?

At least here on the blog I can raise this issue of Christ’s breathing and discussion can continue.

Beginning a Thesis

This post is partly a response to Religion, Politics, and the Christian Right: Post-9/11 Powers and American Empire by Mark Lewis Taylor, but it also begins the outlining work for the preface of my MA thesis.

Mark Lewis Taylor quite frankly stated his thesis for the book: “9/11 is best interpreted as a ‘mythic moment’ that temporarily ruptured the great myths of American Greatness by which many U.S. residents live” (xi). But the popping of the American bubbles of innocence and safety is not the end for the scope of the book, Taylor continues on to summarize the American response to such an attack: “groups already steeped in cultures of felt defeat and embattlement [i.e. the Christian Right] have harnessed the fear and patriotism of the post-9/11 moment for their ends” (69). Within this context of perceived violation and violent response, Taylor follows the Christian Right as it powers its way through politics, primarily through yoking with the neocons, the rich of wallstreet, and to whom the rich give money – Bush. Taylor then puts forth a response founded in his conception of prophetic spirit and a spirit that is inclusive for both Christian and non-Christian alike.

I liked this book, but that comes as no surprise since Taylor touched on the foundation for my thesis. On one hand I am actually annoyed someone already put this together in a similar way as I have planned, after all I spent a lot of time and my own thought getting to my position without the aid of Taylor. But on the other hand, it is reassuring to see someone else making similar moves, particularly someone who has a readership, and I realize the differences between Taylor and I can only make my argument stronger.

The first difference I noted was that Taylor hardly, if ever, mentions memory, instead he starts with the myth believed, characterizes it and moves on. I plan to start at deeper assumptions like memory and willful self-blindness. It seems from this distinction alone, that Taylor is writing to a different audience; he is writing about those Christians who believe the myths (interestingly he calls them Constantinian Christians a couple of times) while I will be writing both at and about. Also, without talking about memory, it does not leave him the thematic connection to use Metz and his conception of dangerous memory, which I think functions very well within prophetic spirit. Taylor, I suppose, did not have to talk about memory for his argument to hold, but it does feel less substantial.

Taylor also seems to collapse the myths that the Christian Right believes, and while I think there is greater value in distinguishing the myths, Taylor in a very short time and in his own way still summarizes the over all effect of the myths and explicitly makes the connection between Reagan’s hope. Despite Taylor’s seemingly simplification of the myths, he still describes the big picture well and so I do not think I can fault him for the simplicity.

I will write a thesis that cuts across both conservative and liberal movements, as opposed to Taylor’s critique of the Christian Right and some Liberalism, then again, I will be speaking in explicit Christian categories, while Taylor was choosing to address a broader audience. My thesis will cut both ways also because I do not plan on making a Constantinian turn in my argument and faulting the Christian Right alone, rather I will put forth William Cavanaugh’s critique of the nation-state and its anthropological implications for both conservatives and liberals. Despite how much I value the prophetic spirit – which I also see as the viable response to the state and culture – still latent within the prophetic spirit, as explicated by Taylor, seems to be an anthropology derived from our individualizing, enlightenment social contract (the constitution) as opposed to a Christian anthropology of organic relationship.

I also noticed that Taylor mentioned next to nothing about American terrorism. I do not think it a coincidence that because Taylor did not address innocence, or lack there of, Taylor did not also address American terrorism. However, Taylor did mention the idea of American righteousness, and this seems to be a move that covers similar ground at a quicker speed. For Taylor’s vision of the book, with a simplified version of American myths, talking of righteousness begins to strike at what innocence covers without all the argumentation. This was a good way to shore up his arguments, but I still wish he had talked about it to fill out both an explication about the Christian Right and his argument.

My last observation is not a compare and contrast, but noting once again that I was struck at how similar 9/11 and the Christological event of the cross function similarly. In fact I would venture to say, within the nation-state’s myth, creed and liturgy, 9/11 functions theologically as Christ’s cross – deaths of the innocent at the hand of this great monolithic, terrorist evil. I would also continue to say that this “messianic vision” subverts the Christian story and the Christian cross (44). 9/11 as used by the nation-state is a theological subversion of Jesus Christ. And as the Christian story of cross does not end with death, so to does the nation-state supply a hope of the grand future – however an anthropocentric future – most vividly seen in Reagan.

Bonhoeffer and Moltmann

Note: I wrote this paper some months back for a Cone class on Liberation theology. It was part of my attempt to get credit for a study I really wanted to do – to find a Christology that answers questions from both my conservative undergrad and my current liberal gradschool. Here is my logic for why the Christological dialectic of Moltmann is so helpful to me.

Suffering, Hope, Blood, and Guts: The Suffering Christ of Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Jürgen Moltmann in Conversation with Liberation Theology

Given that theology has shifted from a focus upon the believer/atheist dichotomy to the person/non-person, Professor Cone has made the point in recent classes that many theologies have lost their relevancy insomuch as they address an old question. However, there is a motif within European-born theology that was only hinted at in the readings for class that holds promise for continuous relevancy between old and new theology: the suffering Christ.1

Two strikingly similar theologians of recent importance – Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Jürgen Moltmann – center their theology upon a suffering Christ. This paper compares the two theologian’s contexts, views of Christ, and the influences a suffering Christ has on their ecclesiology to depict their pertinence to both the theology of old and the theology of today.

Suffering Christ
The theme of the suffering Christ is a rich vein within Christianity and is crucial for Christology, both in abstract and pragmatic thought. Importantly, a Christ who suffered can be both transcendent and immanent; within a strong trinitarianism a suffering Christ is socially rooted in transcendence, while at the same time entirely immanent and receptive to the pain inherent in the human world. It is this immanent Christ – whipped, bruised, and crucified – who extends understanding and hope – “justice, truth, humanity and freedom.”2

A suffering Christ is also important for shaping and informing other aspects of Christianity, beyond the human suffering within Christology. The church universal, an extension of Christ to the world, is shaped by an understanding of who Christ is. Thus, a suffering Christ shapes a church towards sensitivity to human suffering, therefore creating a space in which Christ tangibly exists and from which Christ can then reach the world and its distress.

Bonhoeffer’s Context
While Bonhoeffer lacks the cohesive direction of a grand systematic theology, his thought is still consistently characterized by a focus upon the centrality of Christ.3 In the late 1930s Bonhoeffer helped lead a seminary for the Confessing Church at Finkenwalde that was declared illegal by the Nazis. The school “followed the innovative format of engaging in theological education within the context of a close-knit community.”4 Beyond regular theological courses, “the participants in the school sought to learn to live the Christian life in genuine brotherhood and in total dedication to the Lord.”5 It was out of this marginal and oppressed experience that Bonhoeffer wrote Life Together and The Cost of Discipleship, both of which are works heavy with a focus on relational community born from a suffering Christ.

To read Bonhoeffer outside of his context or as a systematic theology would be problematic at best, at worst it would do injustice to his writings. To view Bonhoeffer’s Christology of a suffering Christ is to view a suffering church and amazing grace, for Bonhoeffer inextricably ties together the identity of Christ and the church. Christology is ecclesiology; the two cannot be split or considered separately: Christology is inherently wound into the themes of “creation, community, and costly discipleship.”6

Bonhoeffer’s Christology
Bonhoeffer is perennially concerned with answering the question, “Who is Christ for today?”7 His answer is simply that God suffered for us.8 “If we speak of Jesus Christ as God…we must speak of his weakness, his manger, his cross. This man is no abstract God.”9 Thus the incarnate one is humiliated and exalted, and yet, in between lies the hope of the empty tomb.10 His flesh is like our flesh; however, Bonhoeffer does not leave much room to talk simply about Christ suffering, but leads into the suffering as relevant for humanity. “The Law of Christ is a law of forbearance. Forbearance means enduring and suffering.”11 Thus Christology, Christ’s nature and actions, ushering in the Kingdom of God, informs the church.12

Bonhoeffer has a specific idea of the make-up of the body of Christ. Importantly, “the Church is not a religious community of worshippers of Christ”; rather, the church is a space within a community of humanity where “Christ has really taken form.”13 However, the church’s hope or the appearance of Christ in church is not based on only a messiah or even a human messiah, but specifically a suffering messiah. “‘Christians stand by God in his hour of grieving’…thus creating Christ in us by participating in his suffering.”14 It is because Christ suffered that the church can visibly extend Christ and his hope and justice to the world because the church is Christ. It is here that Bonhoeffer’s answer for the question “Who is Christ for today” is found, not only for him over half a century ago, but still the answer is relevant for today. Christ, as his church, suffers for creation. Because of Christ’s suffering, death, and resurrection, the church’s hope and call for justice never dies.

Moltmann’s Context
While Bonhoeffer was “probably the most influential German theologian of the generation immediately following Barth’s,” Moltmann is “probably the most influential German theologian active at present.”15 Moltmann is largely known for reviving eschatology from the trash bin of theology, as it were. It is slightly lesser known that he was also “one of the first theologians seriously to study Bonhoeffer’s work” – it is in fact this is one of the sources from which Moltmann inherited his focus upon incorporating both social ethics and the dialogue between the church and the world.16 As a prisoner of war (not unlike Bonhoeffer), Moltmann experienced both “God as the power of hope and of God’s presence in suffering,” two themes that made their way later into his works.17 Also like Bonhoeffer, Moltmann retains a theological core of themes and through the rest of his life’s work progressively addresses them to create a mature theology in contrast to Bonhoeffer’s inchoate theology.18

Moltmann has found a sophisticated, mature theological voice open to multiple influences, writing volumes, with at least nearly 20 works translated into English, and teaching scholars like Miroslav Volf. Nine major works comprise Moltmann’s theology: the first set, a trilogy, comprised of Theology of Hope, The Crucified God, and The Church in the Power of the Spirit; and the second set of six, The Trinity and the Kingdom of God, God in Creation, The Way of Jesus Christ, The Spirit of Life, The Coming of God, and Experiences in Theology. The first set is described as “complementary perspectives on Christian theology”; however, he chooses to see the second set, though it is similar to a systemic theology, as “‘contributions’ to theological discussion.”19

The themes Moltmann addresses are numerous. Aside from eschatology and suffering (also related to theodicy), he produces a complete Trinitarian view of God, formulates “the relationship of God and the world as reciprocal and as internal to God’s own Trinitarian relationships”, and departs from “the modern paradigm of reality as human history and giving theological weight to the reciprocal relationship of humanity and the rest of Nature.”20 Despite the diversity of the themes, the controlling, meta-theme lays within the trilogy – the dialectic between Jesus’ suffering death of cross and the hope filled resurrection – only to be rooted within the thorough trinitarianism of his later work. In fact, Stanley Grenz and Roger Olson state, “Taking his cue from Bonhoeffer’s statement that ‘Only the suffering God can help,’ Moltmann opened up a veritable new chapter in theology, in which the suffering of God is almost a new orthodoxy.”

Moltmann’s Christology
As already stated, Moltmann views Christology dialectically, holding in tension the cross and resurrection – both the suffering and hope inherent to God in history. The cross represents the current condition of humanity of “subjection to sin, suffering and death,” while the resurrection is God’s promise and humanity’s hope of redemption or creation made anew.21 Thus Moltmann grasps the suffering Christ of Bonhoeffer, and builds upon it the dimension of a hopeful future.

For Moltmann, Jesus is the Christ of both God and the human race. “The Christ of God represents God himself in a still unredeemed world.”22 And speaking in Trinitarian terms, “the Son of God represents the Father in a godless and forsaken world.”23 It is only through the resurrection that Jesus could be “the Christ of God.”24 Thus the suffering and death of Jesus is the “suffering and death of the Christ of God.”25 Simply put, the identity of Jesus as Christ is only fulfilled in hope; a suffering Jesus without the resurrection would not have embodied the fullness of God. Nevertheless, the resurrection does not wrap the cross in glory; instead, the cross is always the point where God suffered, filled “with eschatology and saving significance.”26

In Christ’s resurrection preceding the resurrection of all humanity, the Christ of God becomes Christ for humanity.27 “Thus the cross of Christ modifies the resurrection of Christ under the conditions of the suffering of the world so that it changes from being a purely future event to being an event of liberating love” – Christ anticipates the future bodily resurrection and so ushers in the kingdom of God.28

The relevance of Moltmann is just as clear as Bonhoeffer, if not more so. Moltmann frankly declares that the Crucified God is for all people: the divine is “stateless and classless” – “He is the god of the poor, the oppressed and the humiliated.”29 This is a God who is clearly accessible to the non-person, and yet at the same time transcendent; He/She is located in a lofty position operating in the suffering world through the body of Christ (the church) as part of the basileia.30

Answering the Needs of Liberation Theologies
It may appear on first glance, that the Christ of Bonhoeffer and Moltmann do not meet the needs of black, feminist, and womanist liberation theologies. Not only do they not address the particular needs of liberation theologies, but as is typical of older theology, Bonhoeffer and Moltmann in their silence do not even mention the possibility of an either black or female Christ. Presumably, this Christology remains white and inaccessible to liberative modes of Christian thinking; however, little could be farther from the truth.

It is exactly the suffering nature of Bonhoeffer and Moltmann’s Christology that makes it relevant to these newer particularized communities. Indeed, when Cone formulates a Christology around a black Christ, he does not require a physically black Jesus; rather, Cone is describing a suffering Christ contextually in light of current oppression.31 In fact, Cone explicitly asserts that it is the suffering nature of Christ that enables him to be a “black Christ.” In A Black Theology of Liberation he states, “The Jesus of history is… the Christ of today as interpreted by the theological significance of the death-resurrection event.” When he declares “Black theology certainly agrees with this emphasis on the cross and resurrection,” Cone is confirming the consonance between Moltmann’s Christological focus and the needs of liberation theologies.32

Theology of Hope
Insomuch as they are theologians of hope, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Jürgen offer a focus as desperately needed in Nazi Germany and its aftermath as in our contemporary culture of cynicism and oppression. Bonhoeffer first sketched out a theology of God’s suffering which was able to speak to the suffering of many particular situations, but which lacked a necessary second dimension – future. Moltmann completed this view of the cross by raising the hope of the resurrection to equal prominence in this suffering Christology. The suffering Christ – and subsequently the church, when it focuses upon this Christ – is able to engage, share, and heal the pain of even the most oppressed, both with an existential understanding and a tangible eschatological hope for the future.

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1.Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, translated by R. A. Wilson and John Bowden (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), xi.

2.Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics, translated by Neville Horton Smith (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1995), 61.

3.Stanley Grenz and Robert Olson, 20th-Century Theology: God and the World in a Transitional Age, 149. Wayne Whitson Floyd, The Modern Theologians: An Introduction to Christian Theology since 1918, edited by David F. Ford and Rachel Muers (Downers Grove, Illinois: Intervarsity Press, 1992), 56.

4.20th-Century Theology, 148.5.Ibid., 148.6.Wayne Whitson Floyd, The Modern Theologians, 55.

7.20th-Century Theology, 149. John W. De Gruchy, “Bonhoeffer, Dietrich (1906-45),” The Dictionary of Historical Theology, edited by Trevor A. Hart (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 81.

8.Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together; Prayer Book, edited by Geffrey B. Kelly, translated by Daniel W. Bloesch and James H. Burtness (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005), 100. Also see footnote 14: “The sufferings of God in Jesus Christ and Jesus’ sufferings in and for God’s people are major themes in Bonhoeffer’s theology.”

9.Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Christ the Center, translated by Edwin H. Robertson (New York: Harper and Row, 1978), 104.

10.Ibid., 112.

11.Life Together,100.

12.Christ the Center, 111.

13.Ethics, 84 and 85.

14.Letters and Papers from Prison, 361.

15.Justo L. González, A History of Christian Thought: From the Protestant Reformation to the Twentieth Century, vol. 3, revised ed. (Nashville: Abingdon, 1987), 447 and 452.

16.Richard Bauckham, “Jürgen Moltmann,” The Modern Theologians, edited by David F. Ford and Rachel Muers, ed. 3 (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2005), 147.

17.Ibid., 147.

18.The Dictionary of Modern Historical Theology, 376.

19.Richard Bauckham, The Modern Theologians, 148.

20.The Dictionary of Historical Theology, 376.

21.The Dictionary of Historical Theology, 377.

22.The Crucified God, 179.

23.Ibid., 179.

24.Ibid., 182.

25.Ibid., 182.

26.Ibid., 182.

27.Ibid., 184.

28.Ibid., 185.

29.Ibid., 329. Also see the quote a few lines below, “Christians will seek to anticipate the future of Christ according to the measure of the possibilities available to them, by breaking down lordship and building up the political liveliness of each individual.”

30.In using the Greek word for the “kingdom of God” (basileia), I hope to avoid master/slave presumptions that feminists have pointed out are connoted by the phrase, while still retaining the sense of transcendence that the alternate “kindom” seems to lack. All previous uses in the text of the term “kingdom” have been part of the process of quoting and in the spirit of retaining the author’s language.

31.James H. Cone, A Black Theology of Liberation (New York: Orbis, 2006), 119-120.

32.Cone, 118.

33.The Crucified God, xi.

Roger Haight’s Christology

I debated putting this post up, but decided against it. Then saw halden’s question on Christology and debated again because these seems to address some questions put forth, but again decided against it. Then Halden does this and now I figure, what the hell. So here is my thousand word summary of Father Roger Haight’s Christology (using his three books on the subject: Dynamics of Theology, Jesus Symbol of God, and The Future of Christology).

By the way, you will probably pick this up as you read, but I’ll just make it clear – his Christology is conversant with pluralism. However, Haight defines pluralism as something similar to unicity, that is, unity and diversity, not simply loads of diversity and relativism. The man is sharp and nuanced, so don’t short shrift his argument on simple things you encounter in my summary. Haight’s Christological work is nearly 1,500 pages of intense, coherent thought. However, after reading it all, I do think that he lives or dies by symbol and I’m not sure he has done enough language work on symbol to back up this hermeneutical device. But enough of that, heres the summary:

The Symbolic Nature of Communicating between the Finite by the Infinite
A symbol is “through which something other than itself is made present”; through which all experiences with God and talking about God is mediated (Dynamics 130). A symbol can be one of two things, concrete (material) or conscious (within the intellectual realm of speech and psyche), but is always dialectical. A symbol is always located within this world of time and space; all symbols are finite (Dynamics 133). However, the finite symbol attempts to convey to a human’s imagination the transcendent God. As the symbol points to God, it envisions the transcendent, and while the symbol is a flawed envisioning, it is an envisioning nonetheless.

Within symbol lays the ultimate source for envisioning the transcendent, one’s own imagination. Symbols spark the human conscious as it opens the mind and pushes the vision of relating to God beyond the now and into an open future. Through this imagination the symbol becomes the point at which the transcendent touches the particular as the symbol become the focal point for the human. The symbol undergoes a transformation in the eyes of the beholder as it opens the particular, human mind to the mystery of the transcendent God and pulls the human into the mystagogical. God becomes both immanent and transcendent in our experience.

Symbol to Salvation: Hermeneutically Forming a Christology from Below
“To understand anything is to interpret it…to be human is to interpret” and it is from this anthropology that interpretation can begin mediating the Christian symbol of God, Jesus of Nazareth (Symbol 41). To understand the symbol and its conditioned past, a method of critical correlation is necessary to compare and contrast past and present contexts so as to understand where the context ends and the symbol begins (Symbol 45). It is after the nature of the symbol is identified, only then can the symbol be brought to our own space and time with a specific relevance and intelligibility to the current audience (Symbol 46).

However, critical correlation or historical understanding cannot be done without imagination. Imagination is necessary whether one talks of ontology or anthropology and the relationships between subjects. Simply put, in order for a human to reach back through time, they cannot re-experience and nor can they actually meet the transcendent from a position of finitude, rather, imagination is mandatory in our particular for we construct (Symbol 39). The imagination of a Christology from below is not superficial or incomplete at conceiving the duality of Jesus, but has the ability to be mature and encompassing of all parts in Christology (Future 28).

Christian Salvations and the Jesus Therein
Salvation specifics, as in what humans are saved from, have never truly been agreed upon (Symbol 335); however, one statement that can be said is that salvation is liberative. Salvation saves humanity from evil and meets human needs with the mediated God through Jesus and God’s kingdom (Symbol 365-382). Salvation is pervasive; a salvation of the individual person extends into the social, as a social salvation affects the individual (Symbol 356). Salvation also has a progressive character, moving eschatologically as it is informed by creation and the history of salvation, reaching and moving human freedom into an expanding horizon of greater liberation (Symbol 392).

Salvation is the point at which humanity meets with the divine for it is salvation that lifts us beyond our unfulfilled humanity and captivity (Symbol 455). And, in the Christian context, Jesus is the Christian mediation of the transcendent God: “insofar as Jesus Christ is the central medium for Christianity’s conception of ultimate reality, it is impossible by definition for Christ to be less than normative for a Christian appropriation of ultimate reality” (Symbol 407). This Christological focus has two dimensions: the objective, “the work of Jesus Christ,” and subjective, “the appropriation of this salvific effect by human beings” (Symbol 336). Historically Jesus preached and lived the Kingdom of God, extending the divine to his immediate context; however, as contexts change, both in space and time, the liberative, salvific Kingdom of God must be translated from the dynamic symbol of God (Symbol 337). It is within the context of the need for salvation that Jesus of Nazareth mediates the liberative, transcendent God.

The Dialectical Nature of Jesus as Symbol
Jesus Symbol of God recognizes that it was not Jesus alone who was the symbol, but rather, Jesus was empowered. Quite simply stated: “Empowerment presumes the indwelling of god as Spirit to the human person” (Symbol 455). As a deduction from Jesus’ empowerment, no matter which Christology one chooses, a Logos or Spirit, Jesus was indwelt by “nothing less than God” (Symbol 451). This is also how Jesus saved, by being the mediating revelation of God in act and being. To speak about divinity of Jesus Christ is to also speak of his humanity. It is quite simply a dialectical relationship of divine and human in one and any explanation of divinity will also be an explanation of humanity (Symbol 462).

A Pluralistic Christology and Christology with Pluralism
According to Haight, an orthodox Christology must be: intelligible, faithful to tradition and empowers the Christian life (Future 159-160, Symbol 428-429). It must be all three of these characteristics, a careful combination of the three criteria in balance (Future 163). However, these three criteria are not necessarily in competition with each other and more importantly do none of the criteria – the dialectic between Nicaea and Chalcedon, intelligibility, faithfulness and empowerment – actually work in competition to one another. There is no seemingly guiding principle that states one Christology must be chosen, and likewise none of the criteria assumes one Christology, instead the criteria function as boundaries in which to explore Christology. Also, this Christology is not necessarily in competition with other religious truths about the transcendent God that are similarly mediated by symbol. Instead, a pluralistic Christology identifies both the unity in religious truth and the necessary diversity through which the truth is mediated.