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Lay theology November 14, 2009

Posted by Damian in Relating to God, Roman Catholicism.
2 comments

I’m both perplexed and impressed by a recent post by Arturo Vasquez:

I could never take the writings of a “lay theologian” very seriously. True enough, there will always be exceptions, but the idea that the person I look to for ideas about God also has a family, deadlines, and has to punch a clock seems to me profoundly disturbing. How is one “good at theology” when she or he has to live his/her life like anyone else? How is this person closer to God than I am when he or she has the same trials and consolations, and has made the same decisions in life? What makes him or her a “real theologian” rather than just an “academic expert” who specializes in certain religious topics? How responsible / obedient must he or she be to the being of the Church as it exists throughout time and space?

He notes, of course, the irony of himself being a lay theologian and writing this. But his perspective leaves me torn: Why is someone who does not have family, deadlines, et cetera any holier or more able a theologian than someone who does not? Why is a person closer to God simply because they have made different decisions, undergone different trials and consolations?

I understand, of course, that Arturo writes from within the Catholic church, where the clergy are devoted to God and God alone. One could say they are professional theologians, but the truth is their time is taken as much with pastoring, paperwork, and I’m sure a million things I’m unaware of. If difference from me is the definition of a true theologian, then does that make an Indonesian Imam a truer theologian than I?

However, I’m also impressed: If someone is “good at theology”, if they are closer to God than I, surely it should be reflected in their lives? Perhaps in their trials, their decisions? In the choices they make about family or work?

So I’m both perplexed and impressed. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?

Unity and Protestantism October 19, 2009

Posted by Damian in Living Christianity, Roman Catholicism.
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The other day I was in a conversation where I mentioned the fact that I was not a ‘proud Protestant’. Why? Because I feel the disunity in the church caused by Protestantism has done far greater damage to the church than any correction of doctrine could ever balance. So, when Peter Kirk wrote about this in his recent post, I tuned in:

It still seems to me that there are two logical positions here, the same ones Newman outlined. One is to follow the authority of tradition which leads to Rome, or perhaps to Eastern Orthodoxy. The other is to follow the authority of sola scriptura which leads, whether we like it or not, to the kind of free for all which Robbie Low caricatured. There is, it seems to me as it did to Newman, no logically tenable middle way by which, for example, we reject the authority of the church up to 1517, accept the right of a few Reformers to their private judgment, and then imply that suddenly in about 1611 or 1662 everything changed and we have to abandon sola scriptura and follow the authority of a new Protestant magisterium and inquisition.

The conversation I mentioned took part because I consider myself Anglican, go to an Anglican cathedral, spend my time with Anglicans, and yet haven’t signed up for it. I don’t think I’m trying to walk the middle way that Peter mentions; what I’m doing is sitting on the fence hoping (with probably foolishness – but I keep my eye on the news on Principium Unitatis) that the Catholic and Orthodox conjoin and I can be a part of a united church. But I often wonder, as Peter says, is this foolish? And then he says this:

It is of course very sad when these informal groupings start bickering in public, and they should be encouraged not to. Nevertheless the system is not disastrously bad. Of course some of them have come off the doctrinal rails. But this is where the Gamaliel principle comes in: in most cases congregations which have become seriously liberal gradually decline and die, even though Anglican system tries its hardest to keep these dying congregations alive. The congregations which grow and divide are almost always those which are faithful to the word of God.

To me, you see, it is more important that groupings of Christians do not bicker in public (as they do), than whether or not they have come off the doctrinal rails; especially in todays saturated media, where every statement made can be and is broadcast to every corner of the globe. In a world where disunity is very, very public, I feel that the priority is to present a united Christianity, not to be right in every aspect of doctrine.

Now, perhaps this is foolish: Definitions of ‘Christianity’ then become very important. I, after all, define ‘Christian’ as following the basic historical creeds. But I have friends who do not. And is it disunity to reject these friends? May be. There are plenty of issues with Christian unity. But I nevertheless feel that a unified church, with numerous schisms and heretics, is preferable to schisms without count, and no church to speak of. The church isn’t supposed to be ’survival of the most faithful’. It’s supposed to be all-in-one.

I believe in Christian Unity October 4, 2009

Posted by Damian in Eastern Orthodoxy, Living Christianity, Roman Catholicism.
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Jeff and Joel both linked to this ridiculously short Christianity Today article regarding an ecumenical meeting hoping to bring unity among the churches. An excerpt:

Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I will open the meeting to be attended by 120 members of the commission in Kolympari, Crete from October 7 to 14.

The meeting will not only address issues that have traditionally divided Christian denominations, but also matters that have become divisive in more recent times, such as questions of moral discernment.

This new approach will be rooted in a reflection on how churches relate to their sources of theological authority.

Jeff thought this was a foolish idea; for myself, I’m a great believer in Christian unity. I’m not a proud protestant. I honestly believe, whilst Protestantism had an honorable (and perhaps necessary) foundation, it has, in its multitude of disagreeing denominations, become a joke on Christianity. I think that Paul at least (from his letters to the Corinthians) was a great believer in a church united and visible, whereas Protestantism has been forced (in order to accept itself for what it is) to believe in a solely invisible and spiritual church (which I don’t think scripture supports in the absence of a united and visible one).

I know that Orthodox and Catholic leaders have been in discussion for the past few years, trying to reconcile the differences between their churches; the main barrier, of course is Papal authority (incidentally the main reason I’m not Catholic). But if they can reconcile, then I most certainly will join that Catholic Orthodox church, because I believe that a united and visible church is a testimony to Christ, and the splintered and bickering Protestant church is not.

This is why I think that this is worth spending time on.

Am I saved? I’m not sure. But I continually hope for salvation… September 12, 2009

Posted by Damian in Roman Catholicism.
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As any reader here knows, I’m sympathetic to Catholic and Orthodox traditions. I appreciated, therefore, Jon Sweeney’s short post:

When I was a Protestant, I viewed salvation in very different ways than I do now. We used to discuss salvation in terms of: how durable was it? could it ever be lost? was it ever earned, or was it always a gift of grace? how does the human will accept salvation, or cooperate with it?

Today, I see salvation in different terms. I will now continually hope for salvation. That’s the work of one who follows Christ: continually living for, and hoping for, salvation. Salvation is summed up in love: God’s, for us, and ours, in response. My job, as a Christian, is to try to learn to accept God’s love, to feel comfortable in that overwhelming love.

I like the humility that’s found in the continual hope for salvation, instead of assurance that it has been obtained, and the fear it could be lost.

Is there something to be learned from Catholic Syncretism? August 26, 2009

Posted by Damian in Church and Christian History, Relating to God, Roman Catholicism.
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Arturo Vasquez writes about popular Catholic syncretism. On one hand, he describes cases where it seems like previous attitudes were simply absorbed into Catholicism, which is something I feel a little uncomfortable with:

there could be numerous images of the Virgin of Mary [...] Each represented her and was deemed to take its power from her. But that did not mean that they were all the same. They would often “fight” amongst each other, competing for devotees by granting more miracles to supplicants than others. Others would literally kill people if looked at directly, as one bishop of Pisa found out when he wanted to take a peak of the image unveiled [...] Just because the Virgin didn’t cure you when you went to that shrine doesn’t mean that she won’t cure you. Maybe you went to the “wrong Virgin”.

This, for example, seems to me exactly how gods were treated and spoken of in non-Christian religions, even to the point where different Virgins patronised different locations, situations or vocations. I find this a little uncomfortable, namely because whilst the orthodox Catholic understanding of Sainthood (including prayer with Saints) is a fairly logical conclusion (even if you don’t agree with it), the concept of a Virgin plurality (or any other human plurality) seems to me to be foreign to scripture as I understand it. However, I think this is interesting, especially when images of God are treated differently than orthodox theological understandings would dictate. There seems to be a disjunct between doctrine and application concerning these images and the things they represented (be they saints or God himself):

If you interogate our imaginary devotee further, he wouldn’t know why this is the case. In the back of his head, he may know that all these “Virgins” are the same as the woman described as the mother of Jesus in the Bible. But it would not matter that much on a practical level. The same is the case with my great-grandmother who took an image of the Holy Face and hung it outside in the cold in order to blackmail it into granting her wish. Did she have in mind that she was “messing with” the Incarnate Word of God, an image of the eternal splendor of the Father of Lights made flesh? Maybe, but that didn’t stop her from presenting it with an ultimatum…

But on the other hand, there are aspects of this Catholic syncretism that I think shed a little light on some of the flaws of our orthodox western traditions (specifically protestant ones). Namely:

…an idea that there are forces at work that transcend the personal and are infused with the divine. It is a theurgy for the uneducated Catholic masses, similar to a Hindu devotee bathing in the Ganges or Aymara shamans praying towards a sacred mountain. The Christian universe may be one governed by a personal God, but that personal God does not behave in the same way that we behave.

Whenever I’m alone in nature, I feel closer to God than I do when I’ve spent a day in prayer, or a few hours in Evensong, or even a season in Worship. The same thing happens during communion; immediately surrounding my taking of bread and wine, I feel closer to God than at any other time. We often lose track of the fact that God, whilst personal, does not communicate or behave in the same way that we behave. There are forces at work that transcend the personal and are infused with the divine.

I pride myself (probably foolishly) on my open-mindedness, but I suspect that there is much to learn from this popular Catholic syncretism, just as there is much to learn from other varieties of Christianity. I look forward to Arturo’s further posts on the subject (which he entitles ‘on the Margins of Theology’).