2 Mere theology: the landscape of faith (2)
Mere theology: the landscape of faith (2)
Theology maps the landscape of faith, enabling the richness of the Christian faith as a whole to be enhanced by a deeper appreciation of its various components. How might some theological analysis help us in this process of appreciation? Let’s look at an example to help us explore this point. What is the significance of the Eucharist? (Christians, of course, have used a wide variety of terms to refer to this, including Mass, Holy Communion and Lord’s Supper.) How can attending, taking part in or leading the Eucharist help enrich personal faith? We can easily identify four different levels of meaning within this sacrament, each of which is important theologically.
1. Recollection – looking backwards
The Eucharist invites Christians to look backward into the past, and recalls the saving acts of God in general, and above all, the cross and resurrection of Christ. The general principle of recollecting God’s saving acts is firmly established in the Old Testament. For example, many of the Psalms (such as Psalm 136) invite Israel to remember how God delivered them from Egypt and led them into the Promised Land. The basic theme is simple: the God who acted faithfully in the past may be relied upon to do the same in the present and the future.
The recollection of the past also emphasizes the continuity between the Church and Israel, the New and Old Covenants. It has often been pointed out that the Eucharist can be seen (though the parallel is not exact) as the Christian equivalent of the Passover. According to the Synoptic Gospels, the ‘Last Supper’ was a Passover meal, suggesting that Jesus wished his followers to make a connection between the past act of delivering Israel from Egypt, and the greater act of deliverance that was about to take place.
2. Anticipation – looking forwards
Having invited Christians to look backwards in remembrance, the Eucharist then points to the future, inviting Christians to anticipate what has yet to take place. This theme is deeply embedded in the New Testament. For example, Paul’s account of the Eucharist makes specific reference to its anticipation of the return of Christ in the future (1 Corinthians 11.23–26): ‘For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.’ And we find the theme too in the vision of the New Jerusalem offered by the book of Revelation, which speaks of ‘the marriage supper of the Lamb’ (19.9). The reference here is to Jesus Christ as the ‘Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world’ (John 1.29). It is important to see the Eucharist as a present celebration of this future event. For this reason, the Second Vatican Council referred to the Eucharist as a ‘foretaste of the heavenly banquet’. The early Church writer Theodore of Mopsuestia (c. 350–428) wrote that the Eucharist allows us to glimpse the realities of heaven and anticipate our future presence there. We peer through the portals of the New Jerusalem, and yearn to join its praise.
3. Affirming individual faith
Another function of the sacraments is to affirm the present faith of individual believers. This process of affirmation takes place through the mind and imagination. The believer, who is located in the present, is able to reflect on what God has done in the past, anticipate what God will do in the future, and deepen his or her faith and trust in God as a consequence.
This understanding of the role of the Eucharist in supporting individual faith is found throughout Christian history. It became particularly significant during the sixteenth-century Reformation, as leading Protestant thinkers emphasized the importance of trusting God, even in situations of great uncertainty. For the first generation of Protestant reformers, the sacraments were God’s way of providing reassurance to believers, despite their weakness and lack of trust. The sacraments represent and reinforce the gracious promises of God, using objects of the everyday world to help us grasp and cling on to the faithfulness of God.
4. Affirming corporate belonging
Sacraments can be regarded as strengthening the mutual support of members of the Christian community. In a sense, this can be seen as the original meaning of the Latin word sacramentum – a solemn oath of obedience and commitment. For a society to have any degree of cohesion, there must be some act in which all can share, which both demonstrates and enhances that unity. This point was developed by Augustine of Hippo in the early fifth century: ‘In no religion, whether true or false, can people be held together in association, unless they are gathered together with some common share in some visible signs or sacraments.’
Theological analysis helps us to identify and explore these four different levels of meaning of the Eucharist. It allows us to see the individual trees, rather than being overwhelmed by the wood. It offers us a map which enables us to make sense of, and get more out of, our pilgrimage of faith. Like a guide to a great work of art, theology points things out that we might otherwise miss, enabling us to notice them, appreciate them, and ultimately benefit from them.
It is important to realize the potential of this theological unpacking for Christian preaching, pedagogy and spirituality. For example, let us consider the themes of ‘remembering’ and ‘anticipating’ in a little more detail. Both played a pivotal role in the Old Testament understanding of the significance of the exodus from Egypt. Israel is constantly reminded to remember her exile in Egypt, and recall all that God has done for her since then (Psalm 135.5–14; Psalm 136.1–26). Israel looked back to her deliverance from Egypt and remembered the faithfulness of the God who had called her into being. She looked ahead with an eager hope to the final entry into the land which flowed with milk and honey. As Israel struggled through the wilderness, these were anchors which secured faith in times of doubt.
Again, the same themes kept the people of Israel’s hopes and faith alive during the long captivity of Jerusalem in Babylon during the sixth century before Christ. The familiar words of Psalm 137 capture the sense of longing felt by the exiles for their homeland:
By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept
When we remembered Zion.
The thought of returning to the homeland sustained the exiles throughout the long and harsh years of exile. It can also sustain us today. We live on earth; our homeland is in heaven. The Christian journey is thus poised between past and future, and is sustained by memory on the one hand and anticipation on the other.
So how is the theologian to share and apply such insights? How can theology serve the community of faith? Let me offer some reflections on the calling and role of the theologian, using a series of four loose categories to help us in our explorations.
1. A resource person for the local Christian community
The theologian is called to anchor the Church to its rich past, to identify and apply approaches, insights and practices from the long tradition of Christian reflection on Scripture to present situations. The theologian is like the householder ‘who brings both new and old things out of his treasure chest’ (Matthew 13.52). The study of theology prevents endless reinvention of the wheel on the part of those who recognize the need to engage a situation or issue, but are unaware that the Church has already developed the tools needed to cope with them.
Most clergy, through no fault of their own, have little more than a superficial acquaintance with the richness of the Christian tradition. How could contemporary approaches to theological education ever allow more than a highly selective surface reading of the tradition, when something approaching total immersion is really needed? The theologian, on the other hand, ought to be able to see how past insights can inform and nourish the contemporary Church, and help clergy to discover and apply this rich resource to their ministry.
Those of us who are theologians may wish to take this idea further, and think of developing a ‘local theology’ – a vision of the Christian faith as it is best expressed for our community. This will mean getting to know its preferred ways of speaking and thinking, and the situations it faces. We are likely to have to take into account important issues of culture, class, ethnicity and history as we frame the gospel proclamation for the people we know and serve. I explore this in greater depth in Chapter 6.
2. An interpreter of the Christian tradition to the Church
How is the theologian to interpret the tradition to the Church? An answer is readily to be found by looking at the approaches of those who have visited the treasure chests of the past and found jewels to enrich contemporary spirituality and church practice. Thomas Merton (1915–68), for example, reworked some themes from the monastic writer Bernard of Clairvaux (1090–1153) to engage with the concerns of the modern Church. Many in the West in the late 1960s were turning to Eastern religions for insight into spirituality. Merton saw this growing cultural interest in Zen Buddhism as a symptom of a cultural yearning for something that Christianity already possessed yet seemed to have forgotten or lost. Merton’s attempts to revive and restate these traditions are regarded by many as representing a landmark in Christian spirituality.
Similarly, the English evangelical writer J. I. Packer’s long study of the Puritan tradition persuaded him that, though it had to be approached critically, this important period in Christian history had much to offer the contemporary Church. Both Merton and Packer offer a theology of retrieval: we reach into the theological past in order to bring greater depth and stability to the present. Obviously these two examples are selective. There are many other treasures from the past waiting to be appreciated and applied to our present Christian concerns, to help us cope with things as much as to understand them.
We do theology in company – in conversation with others who have thought about these things before us. Think, for example, of the question of suffering. Those who wrestle with this question intellectually might look to writers such as Augustine or C. S. Lewis or Richard Swinburne to help us find workable answers. There are many others who do not necessarily expect to be able to understand everything, but who want to be able to deal with suffering as an existential issue. Seeking reassurance that God remains real in their lives, despite their pain and grief, they are more likely to read Martin Luther or Jürgen Moltmann, two writers who show how the suffering of Christ enables the believer to cope in times of personal crisis.
3. An interpreter of the Christian tradition to the world
The theologian is also called to interpret the Christian tradition to the world. Christian withdrawal into ‘cosy clubs’ or ‘safe places’ is not acceptable. We are called to be salt and light to the world – to be a redemptive, transforming and renewing presence in our communities.
The need for a Christian presence and voice in our culture has never been greater. As the recent rise of the new atheism has made clear, apologetics is of increasing importance to the Church. Theology informs apologetics, enabling the apologist to have a full and firm grasp of the richness of the gospel, and hence an understanding of which of its many facets might be the most appropriate starting point or focus when faith is challenged. By refreshing our vision of God, theology ensures that we constantly present faith as a dynamic, transformative reality to our culture. We speak of God, not in terms of the wooden repetition of the past, but with the excitement and passion of discovery and commitment.
4. A fellow traveller within the community of faith
Theology is often seen as a discipline that lacks connections with the life and witness of the Church. I have no doubt that this can be the case; I have no doubt that it ought not to be. To appreciate this point, let us consider some of the giants of Christian theology. Athanasius of Alexandria, Augustine of Hippo and Martin Luther were all passionately committed to the life and well-being of the Church, while C. S. Lewis regularly attended his local Anglican church in Headington, Oxford.
None of these theologians were ‘outsiders’, dispassionate external observers; rather they shared in the life of the Church, and regarded it as vital to their own mission and ministry. They saw no tension between the intellectual exploration of the Christian faith and its practical outworking in spirituality, preaching, ministry and pastoral care. The growth in the number of books with titles such as Pastoral Care in the Classic Tradition has alerted us to the profoundly theological yet simultaneously profoundly practical approach of these theologians, which has much to offer the Church of today.
Of course, there is nothing wrong with theology being taught and studied in universities! But we have to be careful that it does not lose its rooting in worship, prayer and adoration. The great American poet and naturalist Henry David Thoreau (1817–62) once complained that ‘there are nowadays professors of philosophy, but not philosophers’. If we can see what he means by that, we can probably also see how to avoid becoming detached theologians. Theology is at its best and at its most authentic when it is put into practice in ministry, mission and worship.
Studying theology is like a voyage of discovery: we find spectacular new vistas opening up for us. But as we become more familiar with the great ideas, words and images of faith, there is a danger we will begin to take them for granted. Part of our theological journeying will be to keep them fresh and alive. We must try to maintain an outsider perspective, ask ourselves: what is there about these ideas and images that could transform the outlook of someone who presently knows nothing about the life of faith? Are there new ways of presenting and visualizing these themes, which will help others appreciate them? The Church’s intellectual pilgrimage has always included exploring new ways of presenting old truths – truths which sometimes become trapped, like flies in amber, in language and imagery of long-bygone days.
And that brings us to a point of no small importance. Those of us called to be theologians need to study theology with the needs of the community of faith in mind: What difference does this idea make to the way we see the world? How could I preach this idea? How does it inform pastoral care? Long ago, I took to heart these words of C. S. Lewis: ‘I have come to the conclusion that if you cannot translate your own thoughts into uneducated language, then your thoughts are confused. Power to translate is the test of having really understood your own meaning.’ How, for example, would we explain the term ‘salvation’ in ‘uneducated language’? What stories would we tell to get the idea across? What images and analogies would we use to engage the imagination of our audience?
Each of us needs to work the angles of the rich theological heritage of faith, interpreting and applying this great tradition for our community. We will come to know its way of thinking and speaking, its concerns and aspirations, and learn to relate to it the Christian gospel using language and imagery that are transparent.
Finally, we must emphasize the link between theology and worship. Theology has done its job well when it leaves us on our knees, adoring the mystery that lies at the heart of the Christian faith. There is a sense in which worship provides a context and offers a corrective to theology.
Worship provides a context for theology, in that it represents a vigorous reassertion of the majesty and glory of God. It reminds us of the greater reality behind the ideas and language that theology can be over concerned with getting right. When theology becomes dull and stale, worship can rejuvenate it: worship is the fiery crucible of joy, in which theology can reconnect with its true subject. In this way, worship corrects inadequate conceptions of theology, especially those which treat theology simply as a set of ideas.
Yet theology can also act as a corrective to worship. Worship can too easily be seen as a purely human activity, capable of enhancement and adjustment by appropriate techniques. But true worship is not improved by whipping up the emotions or turning up the music; rather it is enhanced and authenticated by reflecting on who God is, and thus naturally yearning to respond in praise and adoration. If I could borrow a phrase from John Henry Newman, it is through the devotional, spiritual, prayerful practice of Christianity that we come to have a ‘real apprehension’ (rather than a purely ‘notional apprehension’) of what theology is all about.
To conclude: the Church is a community of vision, given its identity and mission by the gospel of Christ. Without a clear idea of its calling and purpose, the Church will fade away, the custodian of cultural memories that fewer and fewer want to recall. We cannot live on memories; we can, however, live and act on the powerful and energizing vision that has been passed down through the apostles to us. Theology can help us appreciate its vitality, proclaim its excitement, and live out its joy and delight in the world.
Yet the Christian faith is about far more than making sense of this world; it is about holding out the hope of something better – a new creation, and the New Jerusalem. Theology does not merely help us appreciate the landscape of faith in this world. It gives us a vision of another landscape over the horizon, a new world that is yet to be born, and assures us that we shall be part of it. Mere theology is about sustaining the Christian hope for the future, not just fostering the Christian understanding in the present. Like Moses, we can climb the mountain to see over the river to the Promised Land, where one day we shall dwell. Theology helps us to see this world in its proper perspective.
Many medieval theologians stressed that there was no greater privilege or pleasure than finally to be able to behold God face to face. This privilege was reserved for heaven, when the limitations imposed upon human nature by its creatureliness and sinfulness would be thrown aside. Bernard of Cluny (c. 1100–c. 1150) expressed this hope as follows – a hope which theology helps sustain, articulate and communicate:
There God, our King and Portion,
In fulness of his grace,
Shall we behold for ever,
And worship face to face.1