411 - For Twenty-Five Years-Doing Our Own Thing

For Twenty-Five Years-Doing Our Own Thing
By Hugh T. Kerr

THIS issue of THEOLOGY TODAY completes volume twenty-five, and so an anniversary celebration is in order. Birthdays italicize time. Past, present, and future-from the perspective of any one of the three-become polarized. Nostalgia for yesterday, today's confrontations, hope for the future-these three tend to pull and push against each other.

I

Yesterday, theologically speaking, we were rediscovering the kerygma, the essential and normative message of the gospel; doctrinal, biblical, and ecclesial traditions from the past seemed to come alive and point the way forward. Writing on the occasion of our twentieth anniversary, we noted: "The restoration of theology in the past generation, the revival of biblical studies, the centrality of Christology, the ecumenical renewal of the church, the recognition of the church's obligation to be in, if not of, the world-these comprise the theological trust funds of the recent past which have been bequeathed to our generation" (January, 1964, p. 462).

The early volumes of THEOLOGY TODAY were mostly concerned with the then-exciting rediscovery of doctrine, the Bible, and the church. We were convinced that the past was speaking anew, and that the cornucopia of tradition could be drawn upon and distributed through diligent research, investigation of authentic resources, faith-


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ful witness to the revivified gospel, and committed service in the church reformed and reforming.

But today all that seems a long time ago. Not that this theological endowment from twenty-five years ago has been mismanaged or wasted; it just does not meet today's needs. The current decline, everywhere, of interest in things historical and traditional is the clue to our massive disenchantment with the past. For increasing numbers today, the past is something to forget, to move away from, to repudiate, to confess with shame. Tradition, culture, civilization, liberal education, the humanistic ethos, democratic institutions, integration and reconciliation, brotherhood and goodwill, free enterprise and the American way of life-these words and phrases border on obscenity for many today. And the present wide use of four-letter dirty words, as well as the spread of hard-core pornography, may serve in our day as a direct confrontation with yesterday's moralistic hypocrisy.

Theologically, this means that in the relatively short span of twenty-five years, we have moved from renewal to revolution, from change to confrontation, from faith (doctrine and creed) and love (service and ethics) to hope (Moltmann, et al.). Recent issues of THEOLOGY TODAY have tried to assess this radicalizing mood, and at no time in our history have we received more letters and comments expressing apprehension about the apparent drift away from the conventions and amenities of recognized theological scholarship. Only a few of our readers have bothered to comment, one way or another, on the unannounced inclusion of Catholic writers and reviewers, the occasional critiques of the arts, the film reviews, or other recent "Innovations." No matter-editors do not live by bread alone, and most writers of letters-to-the-editor (so I'm told) tend to be "older, richer, better-educated, and more conservative than the general population."

II

The really big question today, of course, is not related to the past or even the present, but to the future. "Where are we going?" and "Where should we go?" are more pertinent in these turbulent days than "Where have we come from?" or "What is the actual situation?" Every age has had to ask itself the question about tomorrow; our special assignment demands that we anticipate the possibility of


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really radical changes taking place, and in the midst of this upheaval contribute some measure of authenticity or clearheadedness, both of which seem likely to be in very short supply in the days ahead.

Some feel deeply these days that the only proper authentic note to sound is one of apocalyptic. The foundations of the establishments have been shivered, we are told, and it is only a matter of time until they topple in ruin. This is the fate, presumably, of American politics, of higher education in the universities, and of the church. Student radicals are now trying to precipitate the calamities that must precede the apocalypse, abetted by black militants and-indirectly-by hippie drop-outs. If this seems to be a sell-out to despair and abdication of responsibility, it should be remembered that "apocalyptic" is in good, if somewhat irregular, standing so far as the biblical vocabulary goes.

In a recent experimental morning chapel service, a first-year divinity student presented for a student and faculty congregation of more than a hundred an original anthem based upon the text in Luke 23: 28-31 ("Daughters of Jerusalem weep not for me, but weep for yourselves.... 'Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never gave suck ...' "). The brief mimeographed order of service noted that "we have not assembled to read, hear, or remember again these apocalyptic words of Christ, but to experience them symbolically in sound."

What followed was an apparent haphazard bombardment of voices, sustained single organ notes, a trumpet blast, a woman keening, a centrally placed "preacher" who tried above the noise to say something, all the while a half-dozen students in the aisles stood and read from a paper held in front of them. After fifteen minutes of this, all the participants exited, and a tape recorder was turned on with an endless replay of the sound; eventually, members of the congregation got up and left the building.

Apart from the format and technique of this service, surely the biblical passage chosen as a text is significant. In biblical studies and expository preaching, I daresay Luke 23: 28-31 is an oddity. Look it up, for example, in The Interpreter's Bible, and see how unedifying and remote the comments are. Whether much should be made of one student chapel service is an open question, but clearly this particular emphasis, however symptomatic, represents a radically different approach to the Scriptures from the traditionally recognized


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scholarship of recent years. What previously seemed peripheral, exegetically speaking, has now become central. Christology, so long normative, has been dethroned ("weep not for me"), and the only appropriate response is wailing and crying and gnashing of teeth. These are not the sounds of silence but the sounds of catastrophe, Armageddon, the four horsemen, and the inevitable holocaust.

If this is an authentic expression of current concern, and the revival of mysticism fits in here, it will become increasingly urgent to spell out the implications of this apocalyptic mood for theology, church, worship, and mission. Almost nothing is being written or even projected on this edge of tomorrow, if indeed it is an option, and editorial responsibility for THEOLOGY TODAY will be severely challenged to find interpretive voices and helpful guides if we are to expound and communicate this experience.

III

Clearheadedness, in the midst of apocalyptic upheaval, may be asking for too much, but some would argue that precisely because the times are so unsettling, it is imperative for some at least to keep their heads. This is the burden of Peter Berger's incisive article, "Between Tyranny and Chaos" (The Christian Century, October 30, 1968). He describes as his basic contention, and as an "heretical opinion," that "the first duty of a Christian in a time of turmoil … is to see things clearly and to keep a sober head" (p. 1365).

For those who believe that the apocalyptic mood is the only authentic expression for our times, the call for clearheadedness must seem fatuous. To "keep a sober head" when confronted with Viet Nam, the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, Biafra, white racism and black separatism, a Nixon-Humphrey-Wallace "choice," public education paralysis as in New York, etc.-this is not only to ask for too much it is to be wrongheaded, not clearheaded.

IV

But it can be argued that if this is a time for wailing, it is also a time for innovation. If lamentations and denunciations are in order, so too are imagination and wit. Frustration at the intractable and seemingly insoluble problems of today must be matched with insight into the more far-reaching issues which will not be felt until tomorrow.


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To take the last point-much of our current confusion today relates to surface disturbances which are distressing in themselves but which point to more subtle and radical developments which usually go unnoticed. Viet Nam, for example, whatever emerges from the peace negotiations, must eventually provoke basic rethinking of American foreign policy, especially in Asia; so far there has been little disposition to get into this. This election year seemed to many a disappointment and a let-down because the real issues never got presented, much less debated. Even more disturbing is the possibility that the electoral college, the party conventions, and the two-party system itself are all obsolete. Once again, we are not being apprised of this deeper issue. In education, especially at the higher levels, the student rebellion seems to oscillate between demanding more power and participation, on the one hand, and threatening to pull the whole establishment down, on the other. But behind the unrest, uncritically received assumptions about higher education, faculty scholarship, and campus isolation are beginning to come to the boil. Law and order may be advocated because of crime in the streets, but in the meantime our cities and communities become increasingly uncontrollable and unmanageable.

Now the point is that it ought to be somebody's business to spot the underlying issues and movements, whether in politics and education or in theology and the church, to present the really basic questions, and to provide creative interpretation of those far-reaching matters that will not emerge fully until tomorrow. Something like that could provide theology, church, and religious journalism with a full docket for at least the next five years ahead.

THEOLOGY TODAY hopes to draw up such a docket and get on with the assignment. A quarterly journal cannot report the daily or weekly news and ought not to do so. But it can take the longer view and sponsor in-depth analysis. Even more important than reporting and analyzing is editorial instinct for tomorrow's developments today. It is not for us to tally hits, misses, and errors over the past quarter century, but it is our duty to promise that THEOLOGY TODAY will continue to do what we do best and to do it better. Only so can we do our own thing.