Another Giveaway: Over 30 Books by NT Wright and Greg Boyd

Howdy fellow theologians,

I just got back from a late afternoon run in the summer heat and was happily surprised to find a link to another giveaway. (If you missed the last one, there is still time to enter the Homebrewed Christianity giveaway!)

This time around, it’s Theology Curator who is offering quite the lot. They are giving away over 30 books (worth $550) written by N.T. Wright and Greg Boyd. You can sign up for the giveaway by clicking here.

N.T. Wright (left) and Greg Boyd (right) are two of today’s most influential theologians.

While you’re at it, give some of Theology Curator’s podcasts a listen and follow them if you like it!

Until next time,
Zen

Giveaway: Ten Walter Brueggemann Books

The good folks over at Homebrewed Christianity are giving away TEN books by renowned Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann. Whether you want to read them for yourself or give them to your nerdy friends (like me!), this is a giveaway worth entering.

Click here to enter the giveaway (you will be redirected to Homebrewed Christianity’s website). While you’re at it, subscribe to their podcast!

We are always beginners: Barth on discipleship

For Barth, the Christian life is all grace from beginning to end, so the Christian is always a “beginner,” leaning upon God’s grace in all things.

[T]hose who through grace (because Jesus Christ became and is their Brother) karlbarthpipehave the freedom to call upon God as their Father will never once, when they make use of this freedom, encounter God except as those who are inept, inexperienced, unskilled, and immature, as children in this sense too – little children who are totally unprepared for it. The invocation “Our Father,” and all the Christian life and ethos implicit in this invocation, can never at any stage or in any form be anything but the work of beginners. Even at the most advanced stage and in the ripest form it can never be anything better, for in this field what is supposedly better can only be worse, indeed, it can only be evil. What Christians do becomes a self-contradiction when it takes the form of a trained and mastered routine, of a learned and practiced art. They may and can be masters and even virtuosos in many things, but never in what makes them Christians, God’s children. As masters and virtuosos they would not live by God’s grace. … In invocation of God the Father everything depends on whether or not it is done in sheer need (not self-won competence), in sheer readiness to learn (not schooled erudition), and in sheer helplessness (not the application of a technique of self-help). This can be the work only of very weak and very little and very poor children, of those who in the littleness, weakness, and poverty can only get up and run with empty hands to their Father (Church Dogmatics, IV.4, 79-80).

Neighborly Theology: A Review of Amy Laura Hall’s “Writing Home, With Love”

On the day that I read Professor Amy Laura Hall’s Writing Home, With Love, I was sent home three hours early from work. In Greenville, South Carolina, things start shutting down not when the snow starts to fall, but when people are adequately convinced that the snow might actually fall. This is also, more or less, true of Durham, North Carolina. I remember sitting in the Divinity Library one evening and receiving an e-mail informing the Duke community that classes were cancelled for the night and until 10AM the next morning. I looked out the window and, to my surprise, the snow had not yet started. In my hometown of Huntington, Indiana, school was only cancelled if the roads were basically impassable.

Hall’s new collection of essays is an important effort to remind those of us doing the work of theology that we must resist the desire to make our theology somehow universal — one size fits all, if you will. “Blizzard,” “white out,” and “treacherous conditions” do not mean the same thing to people in Greenville and Durham as they do to people in Huntington and Chicago. Likewise, our theology should be localized. If “local” is too much of a buzzword, perhaps I should say our theology should be “neighborly.” And, throughout this collection of essays, written for Durham’s local newspaper The Herald-Sun over the course of two years, Hall tries “to weave the gospel through all of the essays…in ways that will be useful politically and personally for my neighbors of faith and my neighbors who think faith itself is the primary problem” (p. 4). Continue reading

What is theology on about? A response from J.I. Packer

I am not a systematic blogger. I  blog about whatever is going on at the time. I’ve tried series, but they don’t suit me. So during the semester, I blog about classes and teaching. On breaks from teaching, I tend to write about whatever research sits before me. And since I’m collecting and editing selections for my anthology this summer…well, expect to see much on that over the next couple months.

This morning had me working on J.I. Packer. There are few more thoughtful and articulate examples of Protestant Evangelicalism in the twentieth century (nor many more fluent in the Christian tradition). Though it won’t appear in the anthology, his brief summary of theology’s subject matter is beautiful. For Packer, the subject of theology sets the terms for how the theologian carries out her work. But when wrongly conceived, a host of dangers lurk at the ready.

The proper subject-matter of systematic theology is God actively relating in and through all created things to human beings; God, about whom those biblically revealed truths teach us, and to whom they point us; God, who lives, loves, rules, speaks, and saves sinners; God, who calls us who study him to relate to him through penitence and faith and worship as we study, so that our thinking about him becomes an exercise of homage to him.

From this basis (if one accepts it) it follows that the proper state of mind for us as we come to synthesize the exegeted teaching of Scripture will be one not of detachment but of commitment, whereby we bring to our theologizing the attitude not of a critic but of a disciple; not of one who merely observes God, but of one who actively worships him.

Then we shall be in less danger of speculative extrapolations that go beyond Scripture, which it is almost impossible to keep out of theologies that the detached intellect…puts together. We shall be in less danger of forgetting the transcendent mystery of God’s being and action, and of putting him in a box constructed out of our own concepts which the detached intellect, longing to master that which it studies, is very prone to do. We shall be in less danger of the irreverence of treating God as if he were an impersonal object below us, frozen fast by us for the purposes of our study, and of failing to remember that he is the great personal Subject, far above us, apart from whose ongoing life we should not exist at all. And we shall be shielded from the further irreverence of allowing ourselves to grade God’s work in connection with the sovereign mysteries of predestination and evil, and to conclude that if we ourselves were God we could do a better job. ‘Your thoughts of God are too human,’ said Luther to Erasmus. He might have said, your theology has too little worship in it; whichever he had said, the point would have been the same.

In short, we are called to make our study of theology a devotional discipline, a verifying in experience of Aquinas’ beautiful remark that theology is taught by God, teaches God, and takes us to God. So may it be, for all of us (“An Introduction to Systematic Spirituality,” in Serving the People of God, p. 315. Breaks inserted).

Not long ago, Steve posted a nice review of a recently published biography of Packer. Read it here.

Cyril of Alexandria on the Christian life

I am working this summer on my next book project: an anthology. The collection is focused on the Christian life and will include selections from across the Christian tradition, starting with the earliest post-apostolic Fathers to the present. I am collaborating on this project with two super-talented editors, and as I see it starting to come together I am so pleased! (Watch a short video about the book here).

This morning was fascinating. I worked on the selection from Cyril of Alexandria at Concordia Theological Seminary (Just down the road from me. A great library, really beautiful!). From Cyril’s many works I chose a selection from his commentary on the Gospel of John. I began with Pusey’s translation from the 19th century which was, let’s say, more than a little wooden. Thankfully the recent translation from David Maxwell is superb. Here’s a short outtake from the selection that will appear in the anthology:

st-cyril-of-alexandriaThe Son, by his authority, gives what belongs to him alone by nature and sets it forth as a common possession, making this a sort of image of the love he has for humanity and for the world. We who bore the image of the earthly man could not escape corruption unless the call to sonship placed in us the splendor of the image of the heavenly man [1 Cor. 15:49]. We became participants in him through the Spirit. We were sealed into his likeness, and we ascend to the archetypal form of the image according to which Holy Scripture says we were also made. Once we recover the ancient beauty of our nature in this way and are refashioned in relation to the divine nature, we will be superior to the evils that befell us because of transgression. Therefore, we rise up to an honor above our nature because of Christ […]

[T]hose who rise to divine sonship through faith in Christ are baptized not into anything originate but into the holy Trinity itself through the Word who is the mediator. He joins what is human to himself through the flesh that was united to him, and he is joined by nature to the Father since he is by nature God. In this way, the slaves ascend to sonship through participation in the true Son since they are called and so to speak raised to the honor that is in the Son by nature. Therefore, we who received the new birth through the Spirit by faith are called born of God, and that is what we are.

Notice what Cyril does. In order to ground the Christian life he traces its origin back behind Christ’s atoning work to his “nature” as God the Son, consubstantial with the Father. The life which the Son offers to us is his to give because he shares it with the Father by nature. By “nature” Cyril means that the Son shares in the same stuff that constitutes the Father as God. They are both God by “substance,” or by nature (it took the church centuries to find adequate words for this). We are creatures and therefore not God by nature. That is key for Cyril. As creatures we are fundamentally needy, dependent on another for life. We are saved only because we share God’s life by grace, through adoption in the Son. What we have in the Son is the very Life of God, ours through adoption.

Protestant Evangelicals have often stressed the atoning work of the Son nearly to the exclusion of the Son’s origin in the Godhead (thanks to our revivalist heritage). The resulting portrait of the Christian life typically hangs on the doctrine of justification, or more tenuously on sanctification in the Spirit. Cyril, however, ably reminds us that a strong theology of the Christian life requires grounding in a strong Christology and doctrine of the Trinity.

Green Idolatry

Indiana morningI have often said that living in Colorado ruined me for everywhere else. I mean that it’s just so shockingly beautiful that everywhere else pales in comparison. I fell in love with Colorado in junior high, every spring break skiing Summit County. And as a college student I spent my summers guiding mountaineering trips across Colorado and California. Every chance I had I got to the wildest places I could find!

Given my love for wild places, I was immediately interested when I read Norman Wirzba’s warning about “green idolatry”:

It is tempting to think that genuine desire or affection is realized when we become worshipers of nature. But this is not so. To make the trek to beautiful vistas (often at considerable expense) runs the risk of a “green idolatry” in which mountains or lakes or species are commodified to fulfill an aesthetic desire. Too often the nature we seek in a “wilderness experience” is made to fulfill expectations about beauty. That places are beautiful is not the problem. But when we desire our relationship to nature to be mediated by the expectation that only places deemed pretty or spectacular are worthy of our attention, then we do witness an idolatry that condemns much of the world to neglect or even disparagement. What we often fail to realize is that our worship of nature’s beauty, especially our designations of certain kinds of landscapes or creatures as beautiful, is also fundamentally a reduction of the world to expectations that we bring to it. In this reduction great stretches are abandoned by us as unworthy and thus unlovable” (From Nature to Creation: A Christian Vision for Understanding and Loving Our World, p. 58).

Have I fully engaged the beauty of Indiana? Here in the flat places of the Midwest, have I looked at the earth in the same way I did in Colorado? Nope. Sure, out in the morning for a long run when the mist is rising I praise God, but the wild places startle me – catch me up short – in a different way.

But Wirzba’s diagnosis has made me pause, and I think I will look at the flat places differently. And I think I will look at me differently too.