Against (Theological) Method

Paul Feyerabend’s book, Against Method: Outline of an Anarchistic Theory of Knowledge, questioned the notion of a singular scientific method. This countered the concerns we students had about ‘methodology’ in our subjects (mine was history). Looking back we were interested, not so much in the nuts-and-bolts of how to do history, as the overarching philosophical worldview employed to understand it.

When I came to teach theology (a short-lived disastrous enterprise), I was surprised to discover an infatuation with ‘method’. Deriving from Third World Liberation Theology, this approach was designed to promote action, rather than abstract academic debate. Perhaps the most influential instance, in Britain, is Laurie Green’s ‘Spiral’ (in Let’s Do Theology. Resources for Contextual Theology):  a circular process involving stages of Experience, Exploration, Reflection, and Response; which then spirals off into fresh experience for later reflection, in a continuing process of action-learning.

Transition, Contingency, and the Revelation of God

 

Just as we are successfully re-opening our church building for services, respecting social distancing and cleaning regulations, comes the possibility that we may have to close down again. The government scheme of Tier 2 and Tier 3 rules will not mean places of worship shutting again, as happened during the lockdown. But it appears that they are considering a short-term ‘circuit breaker’ for a couple of weeks; and if this follows the example of the Welsh government, it could involve prohibiting services in church buildings again.

Sacrifice!

Jesus often asked, “To what shall I compare the Kingdom of heaven?” It’s a common task of theology, apologetics and preaching, to search out new metaphors, analogies, to explain Christian truth, in ways that communicate to cultures far-removed from the first century.

One notion, unpopular these days, is ‘sacrifice’: the idea of someone dying for another, an innocent person assuming someone else’s suffering. It seems unfair, a case of cosmic child abuse, which has been used to justify oppression and exploitation, political and personal.

Holy Corona Communion, Batman!

I got embroiled in a Twitter brawl by accident, when I happened upon a Tweet, by someone I didn’t know, and responded. He complained he was not able to take Communion, in his home, because there was no authorised person. I asked, why he didn’t do it himself? I shouldn’t have said it. I felt like an internet troll. And the thread eventually involved famous theologian John Milbank no less. A High Anglican, he defended needing a priest to officiate at Communion.

For me, this re-opened debates from when I taught at Spurgeon’s College – could we have sacraments online? Are they not necessarily physical events? I’ve seen, for example, baptisms in a MUD site, where people’s avatars are ‘dunked’ in virtual water. Is this a valid baptism? What about Communion, with virtual bread-and-wine, in “Second Life”? It seems to me, nevertheless, that sacraments do need physical embodiment. As Woody Allen said: “80% of life is turning up”. While I sympathise with those wounded by their church experience, that’s what the incarnation teaches: the essential bodied nature of Christian life.

Plague and Providence

I had two dreams last week. In one, I was with my son in France, trying to find our way by train with a map. In the other, I was interviewing a comedian on why he got into comedy, but he wasn’t interested in exploring his origins. In both, my subconscious was searching for answers to ‘Where?’ and ‘Why?’ No wonder, given the days we’re living in.

Coronavirus & Its Social Effects

As I cycle through semi-deserted streets of London, I’m reflecting on the state of our planet. I feel a little like Frodo in ‘Lord of the Rings’ – a very small person, moving amidst giant forces at work in the world. For this is not a small problem, affecting one country, but an entire way of life.

We have built our civilisation on sand, instead of the rock. I don’t believe it is situation of God’s direct judgment, as some Christians are claiming. But we are reaping, as a species, what we have sown, in a kind of Christian version of karma.

A Catholic Jesus

Last week I met an old friend. He used to be my spiritual director, some years ago, and is now retired. He is (still) a Catholic Priest. You don’t actually retire from this, but remain a ‘priest for ever’. Nevertheless, he is now adapting to life without responsibilities, although still able to conduct Mass in several local churches, to keep his hand in.

We had a coffee and catchup chat in Costa, and reminisced. But what I really like about him is his cheerfulness and positivity, and above all, his infectious love for Jesus and the Gospel. I reminded him of an ecumenical conference he had been to, where, he had observed, none of the speakers once spoke about Jesus. And that is his abiding concern for the church, in general not just Catholics, that although we discuss many worthy subjects, we’ve stopped talking about Jesus – the Lover of Our Souls.

Prosperity Theology: The Materialisation of Faith

Prosperity Theology contains a dirty little secret – that it possesses a kernel of truth. And this is an intuition that God cares – about our personal and material lives; which entails an active Divine opposition to everything that demeans our existence – in this case: illness and poverty.

Here it’s similar to another Twentieth Century theological development – Liberation Theology. Together, these re-introduced a ‘materialisation of faith’. While Prosperity Theology was individualistic and politically conservative, and Liberation Theology collectivist and left-wing, both highlighted the rediscovery of eschatology, specifically the doctrine of the Kingdom of God.

Prosperity Theology's Dirty Little Secret

It’s common for evangelicals to decry so-called ‘prosperity theology’ or ‘health and wealth teaching’. Many of us have had to pick up the pieces of people, whose hopes have been raised, and then dashed, by false promises of financial provision or physical healing. For some, this has led to a rejection of Christianity as such, because they now identify the faith with this particular distorted deviation.

Among the Polemicists?

I’m surprised that my two latest blogposts propelled me into the realm of polemics, criticising the views of other Christians. I feel uneasy with that. I don’t enjoy conflict, and shy away from it, whenever I can. I also don’t like it when people criticise me; this made me decide not to respond to negative comments on social media.

I do think, however, that we must confront error when we see it. And not only concerning issues of obvious error. There needs to be robust debate within the church about the application of truth. We must not be afraid of respectful discussion and dialogue. The only problem is that if we are ready to dish it out, we ought also to be able to take it as well: myself included.

How Heresy Happens

I don’t like public controversy, and the kind of arguments Christians get into. This kind of divisive sectarianism gives Christianity a bad name. Plus, I don’t like it when people criticise me, and so I don’t want to do the same to others. However, sometimes we come across such a significant theological error, which also highlight problems influencing the church’s teaching today, that we have to speak out.

I came across a church recently where doctrinal error combines with ethical compromise. Their Pastor was describing the vision of the church, and explained that, as a Christian Church, they believed in one God, ‘in three parts’.

Why Essays?

Why does the title of this blog mention ‘essays’? Brian Dillon gives a brilliant answer in his book, Essayism: On Form, Feeling, and Nonfiction. This short-form style is aptly suited to expressing opinions on a variety of issues, shifting focus regularly rather than delving down deeply into any particular subject. This suits my personality. I am not a specialist, but a dilettante, who likes searching around for interesting stuff. 

It’s like Edward De Bono’s concept of ‘lateral thinking’. He compares thinking to digging holes. The expert, he says, is someone who likes digging deep holes, with nice smooth walls. The lateral thinker, however, likes to dig lots of holes, new ones, without necessarily going deeply into any single one. He also leaves lots of mess, when he moves on to a new enthusiasm.