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467 - Trademarks of Theology |
Trademarks of Theology
Fifty years ago, theologians and religious analysts of all kinds treated us regularly to discussions of current trends in theology. We don't hear much of such surveys today, and it would take a daring soul to attempt even a profile of contemporary theological trends. But in the midst of the diversity and pluralism of our day, certain obvious trademarks can be detected and sorted out for classification. They can't be expected to tell all, or go very deep, but, as trademarks, they may be informative and suggestive.
Much of so-called scholarly theological work these days appears not in books but in quarterly journals, abstracts of graduate dissertations, and in such specialized titles associated with Scholars Press and a few university presses. The trademarks of this scholarship are easily identifiable but not often noted. We can mention three.
I
Contemporary scholarship almost without exception depends on comparative analysis as the basis and structure of its composition. Theologians today rarely put forth innovative ideas of their own; they are more interested in comparing and contrasting this authority with that, making critical evaluations of what has already been done by others. Carl Raschke of the University of Denver calls this "descriptive pluralism," and someone, more caustically, dubs it "analysis paralysis." This is, of course, the dominant methodology of virtually all graduate schools, and the system is self-perpetuating. As most professors were schooled in this derivative approach, so their doctoral candidates are expected to follow the convention.
This comparative, attributive schema slips over into more popular religious literature. In a recent issue of The Christian Century, three books are reviewed, illustrating this trademark. The first, we are told, "contains lucid discussions of Dorothy Day, theology as narrative, black liberation theology, John Updike, Alasdair Maclntyre, process theology, John Yoder, Stanley Hauerwas, and much more" (italics added but perhaps unnecessary). The second book, so we read, includes discussion of critics ranging from "Northrop Frye and Frank Kermode to Propp, Bremond and Greimas to Gunther Miller and Gerard Genette." The
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468 - Trademarks of Theology |
third tells us that the author "draws from a wide range of sources, texts distant from one another in form, cultural and historical setting, and field of inquiry." The reviewers' comments are meant not in criticism but as commendation.
Part of the sub-structure of this kind of scholarship involves what has been called "the trumpeter effect" whereby the author announces what is to come, what has been said, and where we go next, like a homeroom teacher posting blackboard notices for laggard pupils.
Fred Hechinger of The New York Times, commenting on a recent survey by the American Council of Learned Societies, notes the discrepancy between the received impression of a published scholarly article and the actual contribution made. It is widely assumed that published articles explore new intellectual ground, but a majority of the scholars polled by the ACLS were skeptical. One respondent complained that much of what passes for scholarship is "ignorant drivel." More significant was the impression among scholars themselves that comparative analysis overrides and discourages "pioneering voices."
And it seems inevitable that this derivative trend will not only continue but increase at an alarming rate. An obvious reason is the availability and retrieval capabilities of computer technology. Seminarians, graduate students, and professors all now know how to operate online database systems that immediately and immeasurably multiply the references and sources for any topic and any author.
The Association of Research Librarians (Washington, D.C.) in a recently printed pamphlet on "The Changing System of Scholarly Communication" notes in the now-familiar computer jargon what this data glut involves:
New technology is contributing directly and indiscriminately to the productivity of scholars, while indirectly adding to communications overload. The computer has simplified countless investigative processes and calculations.... A scholar sitting at a personal, multifunction workstation can easily manipulate large blocks of data or text; can store, test, and rapidly revise it through word processing systems; can have online access to bibliographic and informational databases; and can communicate with scholars on a worldwide basis.
We already see one consequence of this informational excess, namely the vastly extended documentation apparatus in articles and books. The temptation for the future will be to include just about everything that gets turned up, whether it is pertinent to the research or not.
II
A second trademark of religious studies, as everyone knows, is the multiplication in our day of "single issue" theologies. Critics frequently deplore "religion and" topics, but the trend continues. We have narrative theology, black theology, feminist theology, process theology, liberation theology, evangelical theology, canonical theology, and anthropological-sociological theology.
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Those who press special issues, such as in the abortion debate, the sanctuary movement, the creationism controversy, peace and antinuclear protests, gay and lesbian rights advocacy, and all the possibilities clustering around the "preferential option for the poor" vigorously campaign for unilateral theological attention. From very different perspectives, Christianity and Crisis and Sojourners can be counted on to keep us informed of the latest issue demanding immediate consideration.
Presumably, the perspective from within a single issue theology provides a lens not available to the rest of us. "When I was in Latin America," an interpreter writes, "I lived among the poor and oppressed people. I suddenly realized they were not fearful people. Where I found poverty, I found more joy and a sense of peace, less fear than among those who have so much." Another article, this time on the increasing teen-age suicide rate, begins: "Once again the church has been caught napping." Again on Central America, a reporter identifies his audience as "those of us who are striving to prevent an all-out U.S. war." A member of an Africa Awareness Team tells of her conviction that "the Christians of Africa have much to tell us about telling the truth." A pro-life essay states: "By accepting the alternative of abortion as a society, we say that we don't intend to make any effort to bring about justice for women."
Two seldom discussed implications of single issue theologies come to mind, one psychological, the other theological. Why do advocates of single issues seem so angry, pretentious, and intolerant? They would doubtless respond that the issues involved are urgent and crucial. But not far beneath the surface, there is often the implication that "we see this and you don't, and we're here to instruct and edify the blind, the ignorant, and the self-satisfied, lukewarm church members." What psychodynamic are at work here?
More importantly, what is the locus of single issues within the grand theological orbit of the Bible as a whole, of Christian tradition past and present, and of the universal church everywhere? The kind of symmetry that theology was once supposed to imply may not be a viable option among theologians in our day, but it still must be true that any portion of the gospel belongs within an implicative network of the whole of God's plan and purpose. Advocates of single issues tend to avoid such wider theological ramifications. Why?
III
If what has been said about contemporary theology sounds like a jeremiad, the reason does not stem from lack of appreciation for the enormous activity and productivity of a continuing and growing association of teachers, preachers, and writers of all sorts. Religious publishing flourishes; papers in superabundance are presented at conferences; seminaries and graduate departments of religion find more than enough to keep them busy.
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The trademarks of theology, after all, are only surface impressions. Nevertheless, from an editorial, behind-the-desk perspective, what we would like to see in theology is more creativity, innovation, and risk-taking. Much academic writing these days seems timid, selfeffacing, and deferential. What we noted earlier as the derivative, comparative character of religious writing is, of course, protective and secure writing for those who are professionally vulnerable.
Every theological age generates its own vocabulary. Complaints are frequently voiced that theological language has become too technical and arcane. In response, it can be claimed that theology tries to deal with the mysteries of heaven and earth, and that a precise, specialized vocabulary is required to express the inexpressible.
Whether the current theological lingo is a case in point or a mere miscellany of buzz words, we don't pretend to know. But the following linguistic trademarks, gathered casually from reading many unsolicited manuscripts, will be familiar to many:
Construal, salvific, tensive, arguably, warrants, nuanced, flawed, faulted, clichéd, perspectival, congruent, heuristic, praxis, ecclesial, specificity, facticity, falsifiability, legitimated, liminal, textuality, reify, modalities, parameters (misused for perimeters), centers (verb), thematic (noun), problematic (noun), impact (verb).
We hear much these days about narrative, biography, the creative imagination, and the poetic metaphors of the Bible. But theologians today are not noted for their own literary grace or their image-full verbal cadences. Most of the current buzz words relate to methodology and philosophical analysis. Now that we desperately need them, where are the heirs of G.K. Chesterton, Dorothy Sayers, Martin Luther King, Jr., and C.S. Lewis?
Is it any wonder that when analysis paralysis reigns uncontested and our vocabulary becomes stolid and ponderous that titles of books and articles get longer and more descriptive? In the October 1, 1986, issue of the Library Journal, the bi-monthly reviews in nineteen categories from "Art" to "Theater" add up to 143 short evaluative review-notices. Of these, 87 (more than half) carry titles with subtitles. Here are three random examples: Riches Without Risk: A Worry-Free Investment Strategy for Good Times and Bad; The Whiskey Rebellion: Frontier Epilogue to the American Revolution; Modern Madness: The Emotional Fallout of Success. In the last two issues of THEOLOGY TODAY, 32 out of 56 books reviewed (again, more than half) contained a subtitle.
What is the meaning of the proliferation of subtitles? Are we becoming more precise or only more didactic? With longer titles, added subtitles, extended documentation and attributions, captions for subdivisions, are we being helpful for our readers or are we really saying we don't credit them with enough intelligence to figure out what it's all about?
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IV
Two categories in the Library Journal, mentioned above, do not fit into what has been said, namely "Poetry" and "Fiction." And of 39 reviews in these two departments, excluding collections and anthologies, among original contributions there is not a single subtitle entry. Much of the Bible, as Robert Alter and others tell us, is poetry. Narrative, if not fiction, is at the heart of the Scriptures and the biographies of Christian history.
Perhaps we are making the wrong assumption in expecting theologians to write like poets and novelists. But if our religious authors are not about to sign up for creative writing classes, we hope they might pay some attention, for example, to the work of Walter Ong on orality and recent studies on the many forms of human intelligence beyond the simply linear and analytic.
In the meantime, we will publish a few poems and that rare kind of lyrical piece that comes our way from time to time.
Hugh T. Kerr