What is a university for?

Universities have changed dramatically over the course of my lifetime—a lifetime which has included 9 years as a student and 32 years as an academic, across 6 universities in Australia and the USA. Australian universities are receiving increasing media attention due to failures in management and governance, including a recent ABC Four Corners documentary.  Numerous books by academics lament the state of Australian universities.  They appear to be all about four M's: money, marketing, management, and metrics. Learning, understanding, and discovery for its own sake seems alien and marginalised. Questions that need more attention include What is a university for? and What values should a university embody? In the New College Lectures for 2025 Peter Harrison went much deeper than the public debates and considered the role of secularisation, values, and virtues. 

This is the beginning of an article I wrote What is a university for? A Christian Vision for the Modern Secular University 

CASE subscribers can read a nicely formatted, illustrated, and hyperlinked article here.

Science begins and ends with theology

In Ancient Greece, science was intimately connected with philosophy. Aristotle wrote about physics and metaphysics. They informed one another. Until the nineteenth century, science was known as natural philosophy. Peter Harrison has argued that theological ideas were central to the emergence of modern science. In that sense, science began with theology. However, due to the influence of Modernity, including naturalism, theology came to be considered irrelevant to science. But, scientific knowledge raises philosophical questions. Why does science work? What is the relationship between theory and reality? Why is there something rather than nothing? What is the relationship between mind and brain? Do we have free will? Can science provide meaning, purpose, and values? Hence, science begins and ends with philosophy.

Sean Carroll claims that science leads to naturalism, which has the ultimate lesson:  “Purpose and meaning in life arise through fundamentally human acts of creation, rather than being derived from anything outside ourselves” (p. 9, The Big Picture). This creates a need for “existential therapy” and leads to “the hardest problem of all”, which is “how to construct meaning and values in a cosmos without transcendent purpose” (p. 5). Hence, he ends up back at theology, in the sense of finding ways to avoid it.

Another atheist physicist who could not escape theological questions was Fred Hoyle. He resisted the idea of the Big Bang theory because he could not accept the idea of “creation” and of “causes unknown to science.” Yet, in the end he had to accept where science led: there was a beginning to the universe. Furthermore, his own work on the synthesis of carbon in stars led to the concept of fine-tuning. The questions it raises struggle to avoid being theological in nature.

I claim these ultimate philosophical questions are also theological, as Christian theology can address them. It does not provide definitive answers, but neither does philosophy.  

The atheist philosopher Thomas Nagel caused a controversy in 2012 with his book Mind and Cosmos: Why the Materialist Neo-Darwinian Conception of Nature Is Almost Certainly False.  Nagel published a helpful short summary of the book in The New York Times. He noted how the scientific revolution “depended on a crucial limiting step at the start: It depended on subtracting from the physical world as an object of study everything mental – consciousness, meaning, intention or purpose.” Consequently, physics is not a “theory of everything” as it cannot describe the mental dimension to reality. Nagel argued that there is a need to move beyond the current materialist presuppositions of science.

“This means that the scientific outlook, if it aspires to a more complete understanding of nature, must expand to include theories capable of explaining the appearance in the universe of mental phenomena and the subjective points of view in which they occur – theories of a different type from any we have seen so far.

There are two ways of resisting this conclusion, each of which has two versions. The first way is to deny that the mental is an irreducible aspect of reality, either (a) by holding that the mental can be identified with some aspect of the physical, such as patterns of behavior or patterns of neural activity, or (b) by denying that the mental is part of reality at all, being some kind of illusion (but then, illusion to whom?). The second way is to deny that the mental requires a scientific explanation through some new conception of the natural order, because either (c) we can regard it as a mere fluke or accident, an unexplained extra property of certain physical organisms – or else (d) we can believe that it has an explanation, but one that belongs not to science but to theology, in other words that mind has been added to the physical world in the course of evolution by divine intervention.

All four of these positions have their adherents.  I believe the wide popularity among philosophers and scientists of (a), the outlook of psychophysical reductionism, is due not only to the great prestige of the physical sciences but to the feeling that this is the best defense against the dreaded (d), the theistic interventionist outlook. But someone who finds (a) and (b) self-evidently false and (c) completely implausible need not accept (d), because a scientific understanding of nature need not be limited to a physical theory of the objective spatio-temporal order. It makes sense to seek an expanded form of understanding that includes the mental but that is still scientific — i.e. still a theory of the immanent order of nature.

That seems to me the most likely solution. Even though the theistic outlook, in some versions, is consistent with the available scientific evidence, I don’t believe it, and am drawn instead to a naturalistic, though non-materialist, alternative. Mind, I suspect, is not an inexplicable accident or a divine and anomalous gift but a basic aspect of nature that we will not understand until we transcend the built-in limits of contemporary scientific orthodoxy. I would add that even some theists might find this acceptable; since they could maintain that God is ultimately responsible for such an expanded natural order, as they believe he is for the laws of physics.”

My goal in raising the views of Nagel here is modest. It is not to claim that of his four options (d) is the correct option, i.e., that the only possible explanation for the existence of mind is divine intervention. That is a God of the Gaps perspective. Rather, my point is that science leads to theological questions and that theological answers to the philosophical questions should be seriously considered. Again, there are competing traditions at play and ultimately, which we choose to give authority to is a matter of trust (faith).

Facing my pride and my prejudice

I used to think of Jane Austen as a writer of soppy romance novels, which have since been adapted into popular movies and TV series. I had watched some but had never read the novels. I thought of it as "chick lit" that has stood the test of time. Well, my pride and prejudice deceived me! In our extended family book club, we have been reading Pride and Prejudice. I now see that Austen uses romance as a backdrop for biting social satire,  insights into human folly, and the development of virtue.

This is illustrated in the following quotation, considered to be key to the novel. The heroine Elizabeth Bennett becomes aware of her own lack of virtue.

 "She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd. How despicably have I acted!" she cried; "I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself."

        Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 36.

Austen's narrative beautifully illustrates two important truths: we are social beings, and money significantly influences many aspects of our lives. On one level, we may think these are fairly obvious truths. However, we need Austen to show their profundity, depth and subtlety. In Austen's time and context, these truths played out in specific ways that may seem alien to us. Nevertheless, they are still true today.

We are social beings

Being children of the Enlightenment and living in a culture of individualism, we love to believe that we are rugged independent individuals who can do as we please. An important and controversial question in sociology is the relationship between personal agency and social structure. How does the latter constrain the former?

The moral philosopher, Alasdair MacIntyre, wrote in After Virtue:

“We enter upon a stage which we did not design and we find ourselves part of an action that was not of our making. Each of us being a main character in his own drama plays subordinate parts in the dramas of others, and each drama constrains the others.”  

[This important book is discussed more below.]

We desire social relations and sometimes enjoy them. We may crave social affirmation in the form of status and acclaim. We fear social censure.

Pride and Prejudice is a story about social relations. All the characters, regardless of their wealth, seem to do is socialise. It is an endless stream of balls, dinners, visits, and parlour games.

People are judged based on their wealth, family heritage, property, dress, physical appearance, social etiquette, conversational skills, moral character, musical performance, ... What a burden! Furthermore, these judgements may be made hastily and with prejudice, particularly towards those of a different social class.

The moral failure of one family member may forever condemn others to social censure.

The picture is the British ten-pound note, featuring Jane Austen, issued in 2017, and the subject of some controversy. I find it ironic that Austen's image is now on currency, given that money features so significantly in her novels.

The power of money

In Pride and Prejudice, money defines social status and the suitability of potential marriage partners. The famous opening sentences of the novel capture this.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters."

However, the power of money goes beyond this. It shapes attitudes, anxieties, and action. The value of a person is equated with their monetary wealth. The potential future lack of money creates anxiety. Potential financial windfalls motivate action, including manipulation. Money is used to solve problems, such as Wickham eloping with the young Lydia Bennett.

Again, our context today is different from Pride and Prejudice. In marriage, money plays less of a role, but not an insignificant one. On the other hand, money shapes politics, religion, and education profoundly. Perhaps more than Austen's era. 

The Economist recently had a nice article, How Jane Austen revealed the economic basis of society: Some unacknowledged truths about money

John Dickson's podcast Undeceptions has a wonderful episode on Jane Austen. Interestingly, Dickson reveals that the title of his podcast, Undeceptions, was inspired by a C.S. Lewis essay on Jane Austen.

The episode includes a discussion of Alasdair MacIntyre and After Virtue.  For perspective, according to Wikipedia, this work 

"is one of the most important works of Anglophone moral and political philosophy in the 20th century.^[3] "

In it, MacIntyre pays homage to Jane Austen as providing the narrative form needed to resolve the modern problems that he identifies, such as morality being rooted in emotivism and subjectivity.

“C.S. Lewis saw in her an essentially Christian writer. It is her uniting of Christian and Aristotelian themes in a determinate social context that makes Jane Austen the last great effective imaginative voice of the tradition of thought about, and practice of, the virtues which I have tried to identify.”

Finally, Why Cornel West loves Jane Austen 

"Cornel West views "Sistah Jane" as a radical revisionary whose promotion of courageous truth-speaking amid a tragicomic theater of humanity challenges us to change society by changing ourselves, by cultivating simple but now revolutionary virtues." 

I thank my daughter for bringing to my attention that Cornel West is an Austen fan.

Problematic translations of book titles

There is a world of difference between "A Christian view of science" and "The Christian view of science." The latter implies that there is only one possible view. However, publishers love The rather than A in book titles.

It turns out that translators do too. In Territories of Science and Religion, Peter Harrison discussed how the translated title of John Calvin's most influential work changed with time, reflecting underlying shifts in views about what Christianity was. 

unlike English, Latin has no article—no “a” or “the.” Accordingly, when rendering expressions such as “vera religion” or “christiana religio” into English, translators had to decide on the basis of context whether to add an article or not. As we have seen, such decisions can make a crucial difference, for the connotations of “true religion” and “christian religion” are rather different from those of “the true religion” and “the Christian religion.” The former can mean something like “genuine piety” and “Christlike piety” and are thus consistent with the idea of religion as an interior quality. Addition of the definite article, however, is suggestive of a system of belief.

 The translation history of Protestant Reformer John Calvin’s classic Institutio Christianae Religionis (1536) gives a good indication both of the importance of the definite article and of changing understandings of religion in the seventeenth century. Calvin’s work was intended as a manual for the inculcation of Christian piety, although this fact is disguised by the modern practice of rendering the title in English as The Institutes of the Christian Religion. The title page of the first English edition by Thomas Norton bears the more faithful “The Institution of Christian religion” (1561). The definite article is placed before “Christian” in the 1762 Glasgow edition: “The Institution of the Christian religion.” And the now familiar “Institutes” appears for the first time in John Allen’s 1813 edition: “The Institutes of the Christian religion.” 

The modern rendering is suggestive of an entity “the Christian religion” that is constituted by its propositional contents—“the institutes.” These connotations were completely absent from the original title. Calvin himself confirms this by declaring in the preface his intention “to furnish a kind of rudiments, by which those who feel some interest in religion might be trained to true godliness.”

Problematic translations of book titles continue today. Here are more examples.

"The Presence of the Kingdom'' is a wonderful book by Jacques Ellul. The title of the original French edition was Présence au monde moderne: Problèmes de la civilisation post-chrétienne. The literal translation is "Presence in the Modern World: Problems of Post-Christian Civilization''. I wonder if something is being lost in the English title.

A similar concern applies to Ellul's book, La Technique. The English edition has the title "The Technological Society.''
L.M. Sacasas states

Ellul defined Technique (la technique) as “the totality of methods rationally arrived at and having absolute efficiency (for a given stage of development) in every field of human activity.” It was an expansive term meant to describe far more than what we ordinarily think of as technology, even when we use that term in the widest sense.

In the next two examples, the English titles are not problematic but have a different sense from the original German. The first took away something, and the second added something.

In 1955, Hans Urs von Balthasar  published Das Betrachtende Gebet, "Contemplative Prayer"). The English edition has the title Prayer.

The Cost of Discipleship, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, had the title Nachfolge, which translates literally as "succession" or "following".

Faith and reason are not easy to separate

One definition of faith given by the Mirriam-Webster dictionary is “firm belief in something for which there is no proof.” This is consistent with popular conceptions of faith that place it in conflict with reason and evidence. Richard Dawkins stated, 

“Faith is the great cop-out, the great excuse to evade the need to think and evaluate evidence. Faith is the belief in spite of, even perhaps because of, the lack of evidence… Faith is not allowed to justify itself by argument.”  

[The Magic of Reality, 1992]

This view is similar to Sigmund Freud’s vision that “reason will replace faith in God.” These views present a false dichotomy between faith and reason, and between faith and evidence. They also misrepresent what Christian faith is,  as I discuss below, and how science is practised.

The ideal of only believing things that we can be certain of, based on incontrovertible evidence, is appealing. It would be nice to eliminate subjectivity and the risk of believing things that may not be true. 

Faced with the challenge of deciding what to believe and how to act in any given situation, we can rationally explore different options. Nevertheless, at some point our exploration ends because we run out of time, lose interest, or get tired. Then we decide what is “reasonable.” However, often this means, possibly sub-consciously, trusting and accepting a particular authority, whether it is intuition based on our own experience or a specific tradition. This is also true even if we remain “undecided” and to “keep an open mind.” This trust is in some sense “faith” and involves personal commitment and risk. This is true whether we embrace Christianity, science, conservatism, Marxism, feminism, or atheism. We cannot escape traditions and their influence, for better or worse. 

I now consider what “faith” means in the Christian tradition.    The Greek word translated as faith in New Testament is pistis, which means trust or allegiance. A Christian is to trust Jesus to save them and to change them. They are to commit their allegiance to Jesus who was born, lived, taught, crucified, and rose from the dead. In the Gospel of John the verb pisteuō is translated as “believe” and is inextricably linked to love. Faith, hope, and love cannot be separated. Hence, Christian faith is not a leap in the dark, believing something without any evidence, or just intellectual agreement. It is not wishful thinking. Christian faith is not primarily about intellectual assent to specific theological, doctrinal, political, cultural, philosophical, or scientific positions. Christian faith requires humility. It acknowledges humans are finite and prone to error, including in thinking. 

The Bible leaves room for doubt. Authors of many Psalms wrestle with their doubt about whether God is actually present and acting in the world. Jesus did express his disappointment at the “lack of faith” of some of his disciples, but nevertheless accepted them. A father brought his sick son to Jesus, who then told him, “Everything is possible for one who believes.” Jesus responded positively to the man’s response, “I do believe. Help me overcome my unbelief.” 

Augustine considered that reason and faith were inseparable. He stated that “I believe so that I may understand” and “I understand so that I may believe.” Christian faith is predominantly trust and commitment, not intellectual assent. It is not against reason but is a response to uncertainty and the limitations of reason. Faith versus reason is a false dichotomy.

Bonhoeffer as a model for an integrated Christian life

This month at the theology reading group, we are discussing a recent book by our leader.

 In the Shadow of a Rugged Cross: Reflections on the Spirituality of Dietrich Bonhoeffer by Charles R. Ringma

Like most of Charles' books, this one is best read as a devotional book. There are ten chapters, each of which has six sections of about two pages in length. Each section begins with a Bible verse and ends with a short prayer. Most of the prayers are taken from the Celtic Daily Prayer book from the Northumbria Community or Liturgies from Below: Praying with People at the End of the World by Claudio Carvalhaes. Each section has a reflection on a specific topic, drawing on multiple short quotations from Bonhoeffer.

The book helped me appreciate how Bonhoeffer's Christian life was integrated in two senses. Bonhoeffer did not compartmentalise or over-emphasise one dimension of the Christian life.

First, in both his theology and his life, for Bonhoeffer, there was no separation or isolation of head, heart, and hands. They all matter. What we believe, what we love and worship, and how we serve are intertwined. 

Second, living as a Christian is not just an individual or private spiritual experience. It is intertwined with our relationships with family, church, society, and nation. On the one hand, the church is distinct from society and should not conform to its values, ethics, and priorities. On the other hand, the church is to be salt and light in society, loving and serving the marginalised, and speaking truth to power.

Most importantly, Bonhoeffer was Christ-centric. On any matter, in the end, he went back to the life, teaching, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. This meant the Bible, and particularly the Gospel narratives, were central to his theology and ethics. He wrestled, both intellectually and in prayer, to understand his life and context, what they meant in light of Scripture, and how to move forward in faith and obedience.

Here are a few quotations from Charles' book that I found helpful and challenging.

    "When we embrace the great gift of the Holy Spirit, we need to be discerning, what is most precious can be easily distorted.

If the Spirit we are following is not binding us to the Word and the person and work of Christ, we can be led into the side-alleys of subjectivism. We can make all sorts of claims that the Spirit "told" us to say or to do something, when in fact we are over-riding the ever-gentle Spirit, or letting our own imagination run rife."

page 63 

    "Prophetic spirituality has nothing to do with iron clad certainties. It is birthed in the contested space of discernment. It is the place of struggle – do I really understand what is happening in our society when so many seem to think that everything is good? Have I really “heard” the voice of God? And are my actions of proclamation and resistance consistent with my beliefs? And will there be good outcomes?"

page 120

Charles begins Chapter 9, "Celebrating the Good in our World," stating

 "I have been around radical Christians for much of my life. There is much to admire: their vision for a better world, their willingness to practice the good they hope for, their courage to proclaim truth to power, and their willingness to embrace suffering.

But radical Christians are often overly idealistic, unfairly critical of others, and over time, their projects can run out of steam. Another difficulty is that radical Christians don’t give much attention to the “ordinary” realities and structures of life. 

What is surprising is that the radical Bonhoeffer is different. He practices radical alternatives, while at the same time maintaining a vision for the continuance of the more ordinary realities of life – family, work, church, governance, among other themes. This is both refreshing and challenging. And importantly, this calls us to live a more dynamic dialectic. Church, yes. But also, community. Word, yes. But also, Spirit. Prophecy, yes. But also, maintenance."

page 146 

Memorial statue of Bonhoeffer in Westminster Abbey.

A metaphor for traditions

Traditions are a reality. We are immersed in them. We cannot escape them. We need to be aware of them and see their strengths and weaknesses. Previously, I introduced tradition as a potential guide (along with experience, reason, and transcendence) to help make sense of science, God, and life. In this chapter, I explore in more detail different dimensions of traditions, including culture, worldview, narratives, institutions, and hermeneutics. Culture shapes the way we see things, how we do things, and what we think makes sense.

A good metaphor for traditions may be farms. Farms are a reality and won’t go away, as we need food, and they are a means to provide it. Each farm has an origin and history. But even with diligent historical investigation, there will be some level of uncertainty about that origin and history. For example, where does one begin? With the first owner of the land? Or indigenous people? Or the ecological history of the land? Farms are dynamic as they continually change due to both internal and external forces. Farms are diverse in scale, crops, animals, buildings, workers, institutional structure, types of engagement with the external world, sense of identity, and goals. They are multifaceted and can be described in terms of agriculture, ecology, biology, economics, politics, and culture. 

The value assigned to different types of farms, from a small family organic farm to a megafarm owned by a multinational corporation, is subjective and contested. Farms can be associated with idealism, romanticism, or a harsh struggle for survival. The value of farms is tied up with the knotty concept of efficiency. It is unrealistic for most of us to individually grow all our own food, and so we choose to benefit from the hard-won experience and expertise of farmers. We cannot start from scratch. Modernity in the form of science, technology, and capitalism threatens the existence and viability of many types of farms.

Over time, a farm might remain fruitful, or it may become barren and unproductive. Some farms produce wonderful and nutritious food. The produce of other farms may be toxic because of disease, pesticides or contaminated soil. Remember mad cow disease? Farms cannot be separated from their context: the climate, environment, adjacent farms, economics, culture, and politics. Interactions between a farm and its context may be positive or negative. To be productive and sustainable, farms need custodians who both preserve them and adapt to their context. Successful and productive farms may be taken over by people who see them as a means of personal gain and have little interest in preserving the history or what the custodians saw as valuable.

In the paragraphs above, the word “farm” could be replaced with “tradition.” Like models, all metaphors are wrong, but some are useful. Farms are simpler and less controversial than traditions. I like the metaphor because it provides insights into the multifaceted character of traditions and the issues they raise, while possibly protecting us from our strong feelings, either positive or negative, about specific traditions. 

Living and dying for your country

 I recently read Patriot, an autobiography by Alexei Navalny, as a part of an extended family book club. I thank my sister-in-law and her husband for choosing the book, selecting it and giving us a copy for Christmas.

Navalny was a Russian activist, campaigning against corruption in the Putin regime. He became well known through a blog that led to the formation of the Anti-Corruption Foundation. It made extensive investigations that were publicised through beautifully crafted videos that revealed the ridiculous wealth that Putin and his cronies acquired through the looting of state-owned enterprises. Navalny was poisoned in 2020, spent 6 months recovering in Germany, and then courageously returned to Russia, even though he knew he would probably be arrested and die in prison. Unfortunately, this is what happened.

I highly recommend the book, even though it is long and at times distressing and depressing. Navalny is a gifted writer and storyteller. I learnt much about life in the former Soviet Union from someone who grew up in the context of the Chernobyl nuclear accident and the war in Afghanistan, leading ultimately to the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Whereas Gorbachev and Yeltsin are often seen as heroes in the West, Navalny does not see them that way. Gorbachev was well-meaning but indecisive. He became unpopular as his first initiative was one banning alcohol, to combat widespread alcoholism. Nevertheless, in hindsight, Navalny developed a great respect for Gorbachev because he was incorruptible. He never gained financially from his position.

On the somewhat lighter side, as a physicist, I was intrigued by

“I firmly believe that all the best things on earth have been created by brave nerds. (I have on the wall of my office a photograph of the 1927 Solvay Conference on Physics. My heroes are those brave nerds who brought about a revolution and enabled the progress of all humankind. I find them so inspiring that I have hung a copy of that photo in the rooms of both my children.)"

An important question is how did Navalny sustain his activism, stay courageous, and endure the suffering of prison?

While in prison, Navalny memorised Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, all 111 verses in Russian, English, French, and Latin! He discusses how this sustained him. It was central to one of the speeches he gave during one of his "criminal trials" in prison.

“It’s not always easy for to do what this book [the Bible] says, but I try. And that’s why it’s easier for me than for many other people who do politics in Russia. Recently someone wrote to me. ‘Navalny,’ he says, why is everyone telling you to “stay strong,” “don’t give up,” “stick out,” and “grit your teeth”? What is it you’re having to put up with? Didn’t you say awhile back in an interview that you believe in God, and it says in the Bible, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be fulfilled.” Well, that’s great. You’ve got it made!’ And I thought, How about that! How well this person understands me. I’m not sure I’ve got it made exactly, but I’ve always accepted that particular precept as pretty much an instruction on how to act. 

That’s why I feel, while of course I’m not particularly enjoying my present situation, I feel no regret about having returned here and what I’m doing. Because everything I did was right. On the contrary, I feel, well, a certain satisfaction… 

I don’t [feel lonely], and let me explain why. Because those words — ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness’ — seem exotic and a bit weird, but they actually express the most important political idea in Russia at this moment.” (pages 326-327) 

The book ends with his testimony of how his simple trust in Jesus sustained him. It did not require

"fervent prayer by the prison barracks window three times a day (a very common phenomenon in prisons). 

I have always thought, and said openly, that being a believer makes it easier to live your life and, to an an even greater extent, engage in opposition politics. Faith makes life simpler.

… ask yourself whether you are a Christian in your heart of hearts. It is not essential for you to believe some old guys in the desert once lived to be eight hundred years old or that the sea was literally parted in front of someone. But are you a disciple of the religion whose founder sacrificed himself for others, paying the price for their sins? Do you believe in the immortality of the soul and the rest of that cool stuff? If you can honestly answer yes, what is there left for you to worry about? … Don’t worry about the morrow, because the morrow is perfectly capable of taking care of itself. 

My job is to seek the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and leave it to good old Jesus and the rest of his family to deal with everything else. They won’t let me down and will sort out all of my headaches. As they say in prison here: they will take my punches for me.” (page 479)

A helpful book review that explores the above themes more is by Andrew DeCort 

Happy 50th Birthday Papua New Guinea!

 Fifty years ago, Papua New Guinea became an independent nation after years of colonial rule by Australia.

There is much to celebrate!

Here are a few sample postings.

Ten Things I will be Celebrating, by my son Luke.

In Praise of Papua New Guinea, by myself.

Comparing ourselves to 100+-year-old countries is unfair, by Kingtau Mambon.

The centrality of marginality to Christian theology and life

This month at the theology reading group, we are discussing Marginality: The Key to Multicultural Theology by Jung Young Lee.

How do we make sense of our life experience in terms of theology? How do we make sense of theology in terms of our life experience? Given our humanity (finitude and egoism), it is impossible to completely separate our theology and our experience. Will they enrich or distort one another? Previously, I have written about the challenges of contextual theology.

Jung Young Lee was born in North Korea in 1935, escaped to South Korea during the Korean War, and immigrated to the USA as an undergraduate student. He then worked as a librarian, obtained a Ph.D., taught in a secular university, became a minister in the United Methodist Church, was active in its Korean-American congregations, and became a Professor of Systematic Theology at Drew University. Over the years, he experienced racism, prejudice, and stereotyping as an Asian-American.  Not feeling he belonged in the USA, he returned to South Korea at one point with the intention of staying. However, he discovered that he felt he no longer belonged there either.

Lee makes sense of his life through three lenses: historical, sociological, and theological. He recounts the historical experience of immigrants to the USA from Japan, Korea, and China, beginning in the nineteenth century. It is a sad and disturbing history of exploitation, discrimination, and humiliation. He discusses the sociological concept of marginality that was introduced to describe the "integration" of immigrants into the American "melting pot." He contests some of these definitions as they are developed by those in the centre and assume that being on the margins is bad and that the marginalised should move towards the centre. The centre is characterised by a concern with "wealth, power, and glory." (page 31)

"Immigration is the most vivid and profound symbol of marginality for us." (page 110).

Lee claims that "Theology is autobiographical so I reflect on my praxis and context." (page 33).

Lee discusses how marginality is central to the Biblical narrative. The Tower of Babel "was the symbol of centralisation" (p. 110). 

Lee suggests that in Old Testament narratives there are three acts (p,111). 

1. God's call to be a marginal people

2. Faith

3. "The promise which includes  receiving land, becoming a powerful nation, and making a great name (Genesis 12:1-9)."

"These three acts are inseparable. The first and third acts seem to contradict one another, but they are connected in the second act. The order of these acts cannot be reversed.... Tragedies in the history of Judaism and Christianity were due to the reversal this order... The coexistence of both marginality (the first act) and centrality (the third act) is possible in faith (the second act), the connecting principle..."

There is a dialectic. It is both/and rather than either/or.

God called Moses from his marginal status to lead the Israelite slaves out of Egypt. They wandered in the wilderness for forty years. Jesus was born in a stable, the son of a teenage unwed woman, and grew up in Galilee. In the wilderness, he resisted the temptation to embrace "wealth, power, and honour." He was scorned by the centre: the local religious and political leaders. The focus of his ministry was on the marginalised: the poor, sick, ritually unclean, hungry, lame, beggars, prostitutes, and tax collectors.  Jesus' death on the cross was the ultimate symbol of marginalisation. His disciples were not drawn from the social, political, or religious elites.

Humility, service, and love are the dominant characteristics Jesus said his followers should have. The early church did this and lived on the margins. Yet, following Constantine and the rise of Christendom, the church embraced centrality and scorned marginality. It was characterised by wealth, honour, and power. Today, the church, in all its diverse forms, still aspires to centrality. It is hierarchical, bureaucratic, and exclusive. Dogma does not recognise multiple shades of grey. (p. 125) "Centralism is the cardinal sin that destroys the authentic church." (p.142)

Lee presents a radical alternative vision for the church, including for seminaries. He argues that cell groups should be the core structural element of the church. Structures should be characterised by flexibility, local autonomy, and informality.

I have sympathy for his proposals, but sometimes I find he is idealistic and overly optimistic. Some of his proposals may work for a marginalised community such as Korean-Americans (who tend to be disciplined, well-organised, and highly educated). However, for groups of people such as the homeless and those with addictions or traumatic backgrounds, it is extremely challenging for them to develop structures and leaders. Such challenges are helpfully described in an earlier post by my wife, Robin.

On a personal level, I found the book challenging and discomforting. I am a child of the centre, in terms of family background, race, education, wealth, social status, and profession. Most of my life, I have been involved in churches and ministries that value and focus on centrality and marginality. This has not involved a blatant seeking after wealth, power, and honour. It has been much more subtle and subconscious, reflecting the surrounding culture and background of the participants and leaders. Too often I have been attracted to the centre and seduced by it. Only over the last fifteen years, I have a moved to a more marginal outlook and focus, stimulated by experiences in the Majority World. Yet the pull back to the centre is there day after day, particularly towards comfort, safety, and predictability.

The orientation and main messages of the book are largely not new to me. Nevertheless, it is a message I need to keep hearing. Lee's description of the immigrant experience, both his own and his historical predecessors, increased my imagination and empathy towards the immigrants I interact with. He gives seven characteristics of the experience of marginality: rejection, humiliation, alienation, loneliness, nothingness, allness, and a vision of new life.

Visualising the church in first century Rome

 I watched the movie, Paul, Apostle of Christ, on Netflix. Here are a few things that I found helpful about the movie. Overall, it provided me with a clearer picture of what it may have been like to be a follower of Jesus in Rome during the reign of Emperor Nero. 

The Gospel was for "losers": the poor, oppressed, orphans, weak, powerless, children, widows, cripples, and dying. They were held in contempt by the Roman rulers, who were arrogant, ruthless, proud, heartless, pagan, and lovers of money and power. Being a Christian meant living in community, serving the marginalised, being willing to suffer, renouncing violence, and every day facing the possibility of a violent death.

There is a wonderful scene where Paul has a discussion with Mauritius, the Roman soldier who is the prison prefect. Mauritius cannot understand why Paul is a respected and influential leader of the Christians, is willing to suffer, does not gain financially from his ministry, and believes in truth.

A heartfelt reckoning with Australia's history of colonialism, racism, and Whiteness

Life experiences shape us, for better or for worse. They can be rich, meaningful, and beautiful. They can be awful and scar us for life. Much of our experience is shaped/determined by the family, culture, and moment we were born into. 

Both Stan Grant and I were born in Australia in the early 1960s and went to high school in the Canberra suburb of Belconnen. Besides, living many years outside Australia, perhaps that is the sum total of our common life experience. He has been successful as a journalist, both internationally and in Australia.

Stan Grant is a Wiradjuri man. His grandparents' home was bulldozed by the Police with the authority of the British crown. His family was dirt poor, always lived on the fringes of towns, and moved continually as his father sought itinerant work. He never stayed in one school for more than a year. No one in his family finished high school, let alone attended university. He says his family was characterised by love. His grandfather fought for Australia in World War II, but when he returned, he was not allowed to go to the local pub to share a drink with his mates. Other returned soldiers were entitled to housing. His grandfather was not. Family members were often harassed by the police. One was put in prison for speaking his native language. Until his family moved to Canberra when he was a teenager, most of his peers were indigenous.

In contrast, I spent the first 22 years of my middle-class life in the same house, my father had the same job that whole time,  both my parents had a Ph.D., and the schools I attended were "lily white".

Literature can be powerful because it can create empathy. It can help us see and feel the world through the eyes and experiences of another person. Incidentally, this is one argument for the importance of the humanities and a liberal arts education. 

Grant is a gifted writer, and his book, The Queen is Dead gave me a glimpse into a world so different to my own, even though it is spatially close and overlapping. The emotions I experienced included sadness, confusion, shock, anger, embarrassment, powerlessness, despair, frustration, and guilt. I guess that my emotional responses are tame and transient compared to the raw emotions that Grant lives with, day in and day out.

Most chapters begin with the refrain. "The White Queen is dead."  The book is prompted by the death of the British monarch in 2023. It is not about her as a person. "The White Queen is a metaphor". (page 9). The book is a personal reckoning with the legacy of colonialism and racism in Australia.

"How do we live with the weight of history? How do we not fall prey to soul-destroying vengeance and resentment, yet never relent in our righteous demand for justice?" (page 5).

Reflecting on his and others' response to the death of the White Queen, he states:

"And in my anger I am confronted again by the two consuming questions of my life: what is Whiteness? And what is it to live with catastrophe?" (page 54)

While in primary school, a white student asked Stan, "Why are you so Black?" (page 84). This incident has tormented him his whole life, and he keeps coming back to it in the book.

Grant reflects painfully on public events over the past quarter of a century that have attracted media attention and have a racist dimension. This includes the significance of the Sydney Olympics in 2000 for Australian identity, Cathy Freeman's gold medal in the 400 metres at that Olympics, the abuse of footballer Adam Goodes, the sponsorship of the Australian women's netball team by Hancock Prospecting, Hawthorn Football Club's treatment of indigenous players, and  Grant's experience working for and eventual departure from the public broadcaster ABC News. He helped me see these events in a raw and painful way.

Grant provides a helpful critique of modernity and the Enlightenment. White men "invented modernity as a place of endless possibility." (page 19). The freedom promised often degenerated into tyranny. Modernity provided an intellectual framework and justification for racism and colonialism. 

"Identities can nourish us. They can give us community. Identities can give us voice. That notion of identity is a conceit of the West - identity as freedom. But identity can also - and far more often than not, in fact - be a pathway to tyranny." (page 23).

"Modernity has supplanted god with its own faith in progress and reason. The liberalism that emerged out of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Enlightenment imagines that we can wash ourselves clean of the past. But there can be no redemption without atonement." (page 214)

We discussed the book this month in the theology reading group. At first glance, the book might not appear to have much theology, particularly if you read the publisher's blurb

Grant dedicates the book :

To Baiame, my creator

To Jesus Christ, my saviour

To Yindyamarra, the Spirit

"Vindicate me, O God. And plead my cause against an ungodly nation" (Psalm 43:1)"

Theological allusions are scattered through the book. Two short sections (pages 207-211 and 272-278) focus on theology. He engages with Simone Weil, the mystic who had a strong solidarity with the oppressed, and Miroslav Volf.

The first section reflects on his experience of church while growing up. A similar reflection is in a beautiful and powerful article, “This is the way healing begins”: Recovering the language of lament in a disenchanted age 

"For me, Easter is not a time of resurrection. I don’t rush to Easter Sunday but dwell in the darkness of Holy Saturday — the day after the crucifixion, when those closest to the crucified Christ shivered in fear. On that day there is no promise of tomorrow. There is no hope. It is the day when faith itself feels destitute.

It was the darkness of Holy Saturday that I felt — deep in my bones — when I was a little boy. I felt it in the church on the mission on the outskirts of Griffith in New South Wales that was a home, spiritually and physically, to my family. It could have been any of the missions scattered across our country. The places to which we were banished, and yet managed to find refuge.

There was a tiny wooden church on the mission. I remember cramming into the pews, with my best Sunday clothes on and my hair spit down.

My uncle was the pastor. He was an old-time fire-and-brimstone preacher. Not long into his sermon, his white shirt would be stained with sweat. He would constantly mop his brow with a handkerchief. He clutched a tattered black leather-bound copy of the King James Bible under one arm, yet never needed to read from it. He could recite the scripture from memory. With his other arm he would point. Each word landing — and I felt always landing on me.

My head would ache in that church. I would twitch and look out the window. I felt a heavy weight in that church. I have felt it in other black churches, places where our people come to worship. We pray differently. We sing differently. Our hymns are songs of sorrow...

Ours, you see, was the church of the forsaken.

Why, you may be wondering, am I talking about God, about the church, about Christianity? Is that not the religion of empire? Isn’t Christianity the legacy of colonisation? Certainly since the time of the conversion of the Roman emperor Constantine, Christianity has been wielded as the divine right of kings. It has interwoven itself with power and tyranny.

Yes, those proclaiming the word of God came to this land with a Bible in one hand and a gun in the other. The doctrine of discovery, of terra nullius, was itself a sort of decree — that any land not belonging to a Christian monarch was free for the taking.

Yes, God sat astride empire. But that was not our God. That is Christendom, not Christianity. God did not arrive here with the first fleet. We knew God. We walked in God’s creation, in the land that God had given us. We told stories to God. We painted God on our rocks and on our bodies. We had our word for God: Baiame.

When we heard the stories of Jesus, we heard the story of a dark-skinned man in a land of empire. Oppressed and colonised. A tribal man. We heard the story of someone speaking back to power. We heard the words of an ancestor. And in the crucifixion. We felt the wounds. We felt the shame. We felt the abandonment."

This is how theology should be done: personal and contextual, rather than impersonal and abstract. 

Stan Grant writes some wonderful columns every fortnight for The Saturday Paper. There is also a beautiful episode, "Disenchanted Age" of the Undeceptions podcast, where he is interviewed by John Dickson.

In Praise of Papua New Guinea

Papua New Guinea is a beautiful and fascinating country. It has incredible biological, cultural, and linguistic diversity.

The island of New Guinea has more than 18,000 described plant species, an estimated 150,000 insect species, 740 species of birds, 276 species of mammals, 641 species of amphibians and reptiles, 600 species of coral and 3,000 species of reef fish. PNG is a magnet for research biologists. A glimpse of this beautiful diversity is captured in the book, New Guinea: Nature and Culture of Earth's Grandest Island by Bruce M. Beehler and Tim Laman.

I love this video about the mating ritual of one of the iconic birds of paradise.

New Guinea has around 840 living languages, making it the most linguistically diverse country in the world. This is more than ten per cent of the world's living languages. 

Papua New Guinea (PNG, the political entity that covers the eastern half of the island) and Australia have a long and intertwined history. Australia inherited it as a colony from Britain and ruled it until 1975 when it gained independence.

Port Moresby, the capital, is only a three-hour flight from Brisbane, where I live. But, it is a different world.

I have visited PNG five times to visit my son, who works there. Next month I will be there for his wedding! 

Recent experiences and reading have increased my appreciation of PNG and of the challenges that it faces. Unfortunately, there is a lot of negative media coverage in Australia. Most focuses on problems such as crime, tribal violence, corruption, and political instability. These are real problems but should be put in the context of positive achievements, the role of outside actors, and history.

Only one hundred years ago, most people in PNG lived in villages and had not even encountered white people, let alone have any awareness of Western culture, democracy, or economies. Since becoming independent of colonial rule, PNG has maintained a parliamentary democracy, free elections, a free and independent press, an independent judiciary, and the army has not interfered in politics. PNG has not suffered from a civil war, a military coup, or political repression. This is incredibly impressive, considering how after the end of Western colonial rule, so few countries in the world have avoided such failures.

Australian actors have played a significant role in some of the challenges that PNG faces. For example, the Australian branch of the bank UBS, charged the PNG government hundreds of millions of dollars to arrange a loan for a dubious investment that led to the PNG government losing hundreds of millions of dollars.

The closest thing to a civil war has been the conflict on Bougainville Island, which seeks to become independent of PNG, something the national government is not keen to allow. Unfortunately, Australian actors helped create this problem, as it all began with the establishment of the hugePanguna mineby the Australian company Conzinc Rio Tinto . The conflict ultimately led to the Sandline affair, where the PNG tried to hire mercenaries to "resolve" the conflict.

Like many Majority World countries, PNG is plagued by corruption. This occurs at multiple scales from the small to the large. An example of the small is a government bureaucrat taking a small bribe to speed up the processing of some paperwork. An example of the large is a politician diverting millions of dollars from a government bank account into their own personal bank account in Switzerland or Panama.

Large scale corruption would not be possible without Western enablers. On Britain, The Economist, stated, based on the book Butler to the World: How Britain Became the Servant of Tycoons, Tax Dodgers, Kleptocrats and Criminals.

"No other country offers a comparable array of enablers; from banks and lawyers to public-relations firms and other “reputation managers”."

The rapid change of PNG is beautifully captured in the autobiography of Albert Kiki Maori, Ten Thousand Years in a Lifetime. It also describes how he experienced discrimination and racism by Australians, but was empowered to have a political vision for independence from his brief time studying in Fiji.

The Embarrassed Colonialist (2016) is a helpful and short book by Sean Dorney It does not gloss over PNG's problems but emphasises how there is much to celebrate and nationals should be proud of what they have achieved since independence. 

A helpful discussion of Australia's fraught relationships with its Pacific neighbours is discussed in a podcast by Gordon Peake, Statecraftiness. 

The power of saying sorry

Richard Flanagan is an esteemed Australian writer. My son recently gave our family a copy of Flanagan's recent book, Question 7. It is a personal memoir that masterfully weaves together a wide array of topics, from nuclear physics to the Tasmanian wilderness. The most striking part of the book was the following beautiful passage (page 140).

"Three Japanese women to see my father many years later. They came with gifts. They asked him to tell his story and they listened they said they were sorry.

There was a sense of strange ceremony, the awkwardness of ensuring something exquisitely fragile was not dropped before being given and received. There was a reserve on the part of both my father and the women, perhaps explicable as a nervousness about giving offence when none was intended.

They were part of a group of Japanese women committed to exposing Japanese war crimes. Two were middle-aged. One was elderly. They were brave and dignified. The eldest was their leader. She had survived the the Tokyo fire bombing. My father expressed his sorrow.

His children and his grandchildren were all there. We watched this with its strange weight of human dignity and goodness. I could not ever have believed that saying sorry might mean so much. None was the government. None bore responsibility. No one spoke for anyone other than themselves. Nothing said had had any national consequence. Yet in that strange communion lay liberation. What other answer can any of us make to the terrible question of history?"

Did Jesus believe in miracles?

A legacy of the Enlightenment was the notion of a divide between the natural and supernatural. Miracles can only happen if God intervenes in the natural world.

There was a nice discussion of these issues in a podcast episode, The Intelligible Universe, where John Dickson has a discussion with Peter Harrison and two astrophysicists, Sarah Sweet and Luke Barnes. 

[Aside: It was a treat for my wife and I to be in the audience where this episode was recorded live in Brisbane earlier this year.]

Peter Harrison recently published Some New World: Myths of Supernatural Belief in a Secular Age

Here is a summary of one of the relevant chapters

This chapter gives an account of the origins of our present understanding of the natural/supernatural divide, showing how the terminology of the ‘supernatural’ first emerged in the Middle Ages and gradually assumed its modern form between the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries. The attendant ‘isms’—naturalism and supernaturalism—arrive at the end of this period, during the 1800s. The original context for the naturalism/supernaturalism distinction was neither science nor philosophy, but the sphere of biblical criticism. From there it was imported into a scientific context. The nineteenth century also witnessed attempts to reconstruct the history of science with a view to arguing for a long-standing alliance between naturalism and science. A more accurate portrayal of the relevant history shows, to the contrary, that ‘science’ had been consistently aligned with theistic assumptions about the regularities of nature. These regularities were formalised as laws of nature in the seventeenth century, at which time they were understood as divinely authored imperatives to which nature necessarily conformed. In the nineteenth century, what had originally been understood as expressions of the divine will were simply redescribed in purely naturalistic terms by advocates of naturalism. Ironically, they were now claimed to represent evidence against theistic readings of nature.

In the episode, John Dickson makes the following provocative argument.

Jesus probably didn't believe in miracles. Jesus probably didn't believe in the supernatural. If what we mean by supernatural and miracle is the invasion of an outside alien force into nature, that definition of course comes from the enlightenment.

It assumes a dualism, a spiritual ethereal world and the physical one. And every now and then the spiritual injects itself into the material. The gospel writers didn't share this outlook from their viewpoint, which was really the Jewish viewpoint. There aren't two worlds. There's just one world. There is just the creation that comes from the creator.

Everything that happens in the universe from the regular rising of the sun to the very surprising sight given to the blind person. It's all the powerful Work of the one creator working in and through nature. What we call miracles are not invasions from a parallel world. They are just powers, God's powers in and through creation.

And this is why the gospels describe Jesus baffling deeds, not as supernatural events, not even as miracles. They see them as special examples of power. And as signs of the future. The Greek terms in the Gospels are Dunamis, which means strength or power, and Semea, which means sign. Powers, that's easy enough to comprehend.

But what about signs? What are they signs of? It'd be tempting to think that what Jesus means when he describes his powers, his healings, his signs, that what he means is these are signs of the spiritual world. If only you could pull the veil, you would see a spiritual world invading the natural. But actually that's not what Jesus says. 

He says they are signs from the future. They are little displays in the present of God's intentions with all of creation...

Don't portray a supernatural world as distinct from a natural one. There is just one world, God's world, where the creator acts powerfully in every moment, and wherein the moments of Jesus healings, the creator gave a preview that one day he will mend all things. 

Balance and emphasis are the impossible but necessary tasks of theology

Christian theology is talking and writing about the triune God (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit). It has a history of two thousand years. There are multiple traditions: Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Protestant, Reformed, Liberal, Evangelical, Feminist, Black, Liberation, Conservative... 

There are multiple sub-disciplines of theology:  Biblical, Old Testament, New Testament, Trinitarian, missional, spiritual, historical, pastoral, practical, political, ...

There are multiple topics: Trinity, creation, sin, redemption, revelation, the Cross, the Incarnation, soteriology, ecclesiology, Christology, eschatology,...

Denominations, churches, parachurch ministries, and careers are often built on making one of these theologies central and dominant.

There is endless jockeying and competition within the church and the academy for the relative importance and priority of one of these theologies. Fashions come and go. The "breakthrough" or "paradigm" of yesterday is today seen as a mistake or irrelevant or simplistic... However, it is amazing how in the long run people keep coming back to something basic that centres around the Bible and the theology of the early church, such as in the Apostles Creed.

Different factions critique one another, sometimes carefully and graciously. Sometimes critiques are harsh, aggressive, dogmatic, selective, and ill-informed. People talk past one another. Individuals and groups and their voices get marginalised within certain communities if they do not conform to the favoured "theology".

How do we make sense of all these competing voices?

Much of the difference between these theologies is of emphasis. One particular topic, concept, method, perspective, Biblical passage, doctrine, creed, or historical figure is claimed to be the most important and to provide the key to making sense of everything else. The problem is whether the emphasis is helpful overall or whether the emphasis distorts the overall picture in an unhelpful way.  

Where does this diversity come from?

We should not be surprised by this diversity of perspectives and emphases as the diversity reflects the nature of the object under study and the nature of the subject studying it.

The objects under study are God, humanity, the world, and their interplay. This is a multi-faceted reality. The complexity of these objects requires descriptions at multiple levels and perspectives. This leads to a multiplicity of questions, methods, and conclusions.

Just consider the Bible. It has multiple authors, and possibly editors, who wrote in diverse contexts over two thousand years. There is a multiplicity of genres: history, law, poetry, prophecy, pastoral letters, and apocalyptic. How is this canon of literature to be interpreted? Naturally, the text will mean different things to different people at different times and in different contexts. The text does not interpret itself. Readers will interpret the text drawing on a complex interplay of interplay of reason, experience, and tradition. Even interpreters who claim to be drawing on a specific tradition have to also interpret that tradition. Given our diversity of personalities, life histories, and contexts it should not be surprising that we disagree about questions of meaning and significance on the most profound topic of all: God.

Everyone is a theologian. We are all human and this means that our theology is constrained by our limitations, individually and corporately. On the one hand, human language is incredibly powerful and a testament to what makes humans different from other animals. On the other hand, language, particularly formal academic language, cannot fully capture complex and subtle realities. That is why we have poetry!

Given our finite mental and linguistic capacities we need simplicity. This leads us to develop models, metaphors, frameworks, doctrinal statements and creeds. All models are wrong, but some are useful. 

Theologies can reflect the fallen nature of humanity. Our reason and communication are corrupted by sin. This can lead to the narcissism of small differences. Eugene Peterson says "a sect is a front for narcissism."

What do we really need? 

Humility, grace, and love. We need to be humble about our own abilities, individually and collectively, to discern the truth. We need to be gracious towards those who have different views. We need to be driven by love, love for God and love for others.

That there is a plurality of theologies does not mean they are all equally valid. On the one hand, we should not deny subjectivity. On the other hand, a careful comparison and critique of theologies different to our own may show their respective limitations. Commonalities that transcend our contexts may be a signpost to the essential truths to emphasise. Our focus should be on being more faithful to the centre, rather than trying to determine and enforce the boundaries of acceptable belief.

We need dialectic. A problem with many theologies is that they are dualistic. They are either/or. They embrace false dichotomies. There is room for both/and. Consider the following pairings: the humanity and divinity of Jesus, free will and predestination (human agency and God's sovereignty), faith and works, grace and judgement, redemption now but not yet, creation and fall (humans being made in the image of God versus corrupted by sin), faith and reason, special and general revelation, ... They need to be held in creative tension. Finding such a balance is impossible to do perfectly. But it is necessary if we are to be faithful to our subject.

Balance and emphasis are the impossible but necessary tasks of theology.

Lectures on science and Christianity: part 2

 I have uploaded to YouTube part 2 of my lectures on Science, Christianity and Apologetics

Historical and Philosophical Perspectives

0. Overview of Part 2 

1. Do ancient religious texts contain modern scientific knowledge? 

2. The Christian origins of modern science 

3. Science and philosophy 

4. Some landmark historical conflicts between science and Christianity 

5. Science, Christianity, and mission in the context of colonialism

Integrated mission for global historic Christianity

This month at the theology reading group we discussed Integrated Mission: Recovering a Christian Spirituality for Evangelical Integral Transformation by Sarah Nicholl and published by Langham.

Sarah is a member of the reading group. The book is based on her recent Ph.D. thesis. She recently gave a talk on the book at Theology on Tap Brisbane.

Sarah considers the Lausanne Movement through the statements issued at their three global congresses: Lausanne (1974), Manilla (1989), and Cape Town (2011). [The book was completed because the most recent congress, held in Seoul last month]. 

Her focus is on the lack of discussion of the role of Christian spirituality in mission. She creatively addresses this by listening to four voices: John Wesley, Ignatius of Loyola, Orlando Costas, and Segundo Galilea. 

Major themes in the book. These themes are to varying degrees explicit and implicit. 

Integration. Since its origin, Lausanne has stimulated debates about the relationship and relative priority for Christians of evangelism (defined as the verbal proclamation of the Gospel to those who do not identify as followers of Jesus) and social action, such as serving the poor and addressing unjust social structures. These debates led to the concept of integral mission, which does not prioritise one but integrates them. This perspective was pioneered by some attendees, including Costas, who are sometimes identified as "radicals".

The book explicitly focuses on the integration of spirituality and mission (being and doing, acts of piety and of mercy, heart and hands,...). Implicit is a broader perspective on the need for integrative thinking and action in other areas. Dualities such as public/private and secular/sacred are briefly mentioned.

Ecumenical. Both Lausanne and Sarah identify as evangelical and Protestant. Nevertheless, unlike some, Sarah considers there is much to learn about mission, spirituality, and the Christian life from Catholics. Two of her dialogue partners, Ignatius and Galilea are Catholic. Ignatius pioneered The Spiritual Exercises, including the Examen, that are increasingly used by Protestants. Sarah is also sympathetic to a form of sacramentalism.

Sacramentalism. This sees all of life as sacred and considers that engagement with even mundane aspects of life can lead to a rich experience of God, just as for acts that are explicitly identified as sacraments, such as baptism, the Eucharist (holy communion), or marriage. Sarah explicitly discusses a sacramental view of mission in terms of Matthew 25. In that passage, Jesus says that those who feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and provide shelter, are actually doing it to him. Hence, such acts of mercy are encounters with Jesus.

Ministry at the margins should be central. Jesus was a friend of sinners, tax collectors and prostitutes. He embraced lepers, cripples, the demon-possessed, Samaritans, and Gentiles. He came from Galilee and commenced his ministry there. Jesus was scorned by the religious establishment and warned of the dangers of wealth, social status, and worldly power. In summary, Jesus operated on the margins and embraced those on the margins. 

Yet, the history of Christianity has been characterised by an unrelenting desire and embrace of power, wealth, social status, and formal institutionalisation. People on the margins (social, economic, health, political, ethnic, geographical, educational, theological, gender,...) have been and are marginalised. Nevertheless, again and again, in the long term, at the centre the church dwindles, loses vitality, and diminishes in influence. In contrast, on the margins, the church grows in numbers, dynamism, and influence. Shifts and struggles in Lausanne are a reflection of the Majority World involvement.

All four voices engaged by Sarah testify to the importance of ministry from and to the margins. This was most clearly articulated by Orlando Costas, who emphasised the Galilee roots of Jesus' ministry.

Similarity in difference. The four voices came from vastly different contexts, spanning 400 hundred years, from Europe to Latin America, and from Catholic to Protestant. Yet they were all involved with mission, albeit in different ways. Furthermore, they all believed in and practised integrated mission. Their outreach was sustained and influenced by a personal spirituality and visa verse. Sarah follows David Tracy who considered that such "similarity in difference" can be a pointer to truth. 

A person or community's perspective on any matter is influenced by their own context and life experience. Assessing the level of influence is difficult, especially whether the context is determinative of the perspective. This is important because if context is determinative it means the perspective may not be valid or helpful for other contexts. On the other hand, different contexts producing similar perspectives may be suggestive of truth.  

A major theme in the background

The fraught legacy of modernism for mission. Sarah briefly mentions the views of David Bosch. His classic book, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission,  has a chapter that is 90 pages long, Mission in the Wake of the Enlightenment. Bosch identifies seven contours of the Enlightenment worldview:

1. The supremacy of reason

2. Subject-object dichotomy

3. Elimination of the idea of purpose

4. Optimism in Progress.

5. Distinction between facts and values

6. All problems are solvable in principle

7. Humans are emancipated and autonomous individuals

These issues are also explored in depth in next month's book, Mangoes or Bananas? The Quest for an Authentic Asian Christian Theology, by Hwa Yung

Implications for me

There were several things that the book challenged me on personally. These were not necessarily new ideas, but rather the struggles of practical and regular implementation. Hearing from the four voices was helpful and challenging.

Be engaged personally, especially with the poor. Just giving money is not adequate.

Spiritual practices and mission are communal and not just individual.

Contemplative reading and prayer. 

Minister on the margins. Listen to marginal voices. Engage with the suffering of those on the margins. Empower those on the margins. 

Formulation of the doctrine of the Trinity was an intellectual revolution

The way we think about any manner of topics has been shaped by our experiences and contexts, including family, education, friends, churches, and culture. We all have an intellectual history and are embedded in contexts with an intellectual history. The way I think today in Australia is probably quite different to how a Gentile in the time of Jesus thought. Political histories are sometimes marked by revolutions, such as in China, Russia, France, and America. Intellectual histories also involve revolutions, such as the Renaissance, Enlightenment, and Protestant Reformation.

Colin Gunton has argued that the formulation of the Christian doctrine of the Trinity was an intellectual revolution, in his book, The Promise of Trinitarian Theology Until I read this I thought of the Trinity as purely an issue in Christian doctrine, not an issue that addressed fundamental issues in philosophy.

The philosophical concept [and field of study] of ontology concerns the nature or being or existence. In other words, what is real?

It was the function of the homoousion, the teaching that the Son is ‘of one being’ with the Father, to express the ontological relation between the Son and God the Father. 

It is to establish a new ontological principle: that there can be a sharing in being. According to Greek ontology, to be is either to be universal or to be individual: to be defined by virtue of participlation in universal form or by virtue of material separation from other beings...

the Nicene theologians introduced a note of relationality into the being of God: God's being is defined as being in in relation...

God is being in communion. "The substance of God, "God", has no ontological content, no true being, apart from communion" [This is a quote from John Zizioulas, Being as Communion]

page 9 

The crucial move in the process was to distinguish between two words whose meaning until then had been virtually synonymous, ousia and hypostasis, both meaning `being'.

page 10 

They had previously meant the same - being or substance. Their use in the doctrine of the Trinity made possible the distinction and yet holding together of the unity and plurality of God.

Scientific aside: there are similarities here to how a material is not the same as a state of matter, e.g. water (H20) is a material but atmospheric pressure is found in three different states: gas, liquid, and solid (ice).

This intellectual (theological) revolution opens up new conceptual possibilities.

at the heart of the doctrine of being a four concepts: person, relation, otherness, and freedom...

Central will be the point that a person is different from an individual, in the sense that the latter is defined in terms of separation from other individuals, the person in terms of relations with other persons.

page 11 

A relation is first of all to be conceived as the way by which persons are mutually constituted, made what they are. (That does not mean, as will be argued in chapter 8, that the concept is limited to the concepts that we call personal. On the contrary, it is also fruitful for an understanding of the character of the whole of reality).

But we cannot understand relation satisfacturally unless we also realize that to be a person is to be related as an other. One person is not the tool or the extension of another, or if he is his personhood is violated. Personal relations are those that constitute the other person, as other as truly particular.

page 11. 

By free is not meant by the reigning conception of the term, freedom from others. It has to do with a free and mutually constitutive relation with other persons, as well as with a way of being in the world.