A Look Behind the Curtain, or: why I was silent on the blog for several weeks

So, as I have already mentioned, I recently wrapped up my "Rigorosum", the final examinations for a doctoral degree here at the Protestant Theological Faculty, and I thought I should write a bit about how it all went down. I am usually big about recommending graduate study in Germany, because, hey, I paid a whole 42€ in fees (not including printing the dissertation) for the whole degree, and because I think the academic climate here is at least comparable to leading schools elsewhere (LMU is in the top 50 worldwide, by the way, and the humanities such as theology rank higher).

So I had officially submitted my disseration at the beginning of April, which was officially accepted without revision on the 19th of June. Unlike other programs, the faculty here requires an "Examen Rigorosum" rather than a defense - this consists of one major and two minor subject areas. As my dissertation was written in Systematic Theology, that was my major; for the minor subjects I had to choose from two constellations: Old Testament or New Testament, and Practical Theology or Church History or Science of Religion. I went with NT and Church History. I was also officially informed on the 20th that the examination would be on the 26th, though I knew the date about a week before that unofficially. Preparation was brutal, mostly because I over-prepared, but I certainly won't be lacking the knoweldge later should I ever need it.

In the examination for Systematic Theology, I was examined on the topics of Christology and Justification (Prolegomena wasn't an option, as that was the area of my dissertation - the idea is to ensure a breadth of knowledge and prevent over-specialization) by my advisor, Prof. Jan Rohls. Prof. Harry Oelke examined me in Church History, on the topics of the social, political, and eccelsial situation prior to Reformation as well as on the life and work of the Pietist Philipp Jakob Spener. Prof. Loren Stuckenbruck examined me in New Testament on the righteousness of God in Paul's letter to the Romans. The whole thing took about three hours, and was actually quite a lot of fun (but, then, I'm strange and enjoy these things). I'm also quite pleased to say that I know my overall grades: I received the (latin) grade of cum laude (A side note here: this is not comparable with other grading schemes in other countries, nor is it totally standardized in Germany, not even in the same subject or the same university - each faculty of each uni has its own rules, and there is only a rough guide for the country-wide assesment. For the curious, it's about a 3.5 on an American-style scale).

In my opinion, this sort of examination is the perfect balancing mechanism for the fact that there is not a course of study in the program. One "merely" has to write a dissertation (I've heard the rumor that our give up + nonacceptance rate is 80-90% here, but I don't know if that's true), but there also has to be a concentrated period of broad theological learning, not just specific research. Lectures and seminars here are rarely (for now) divided by standing (aside from proseminars), so it's not uncommon to have doctoral candidates, folks in the early semesters, senior-students, and even professors from other departments in the same course.

And I still can't call myself "Dr." until I turn in a certain number of copies of my dissertation - when the secretary comes back from vacation...

I'm a wizard!

So I have just wrapped up the last bit I have to do for my doctoral degree here in Munich (side note: I can't call myself "Dr." officially until I get the diploma, for legal reasons in Germany, so this is not to be understood as such), and in honor of that I offer the following argument that I am a wizard:

The -ard suffix in English is an old holdover which turns an an adjective into a noun (example: drunk -> drunkard). A wiz-ard, then, is someone who is wise (*wiseard). Now, it's long been a claim of Christianity that theology isn't just a scientia, but a sapientia: not just knowledge, but wisdom. Now, achieving the requirements of a doctoral degree in "wisdom" seems to make one qualified as "wise" - one is doctus (learned) in wisdom, which is basically saying the same thing. That being the case, I lay claim to being a wizard. Bam!

(The only spell I seem to know is "transmute money to book", though)

Cloning and Theological Ethics

The recent discussions regarding the advances in cloning technology have recently led to quite a bit of discussion, as well as ethical critique. Initially, I should note that the recent developments are not a matter of reproductive cloning – nonetheless, the technique pioneered would significantly simplify the process of reproductive cloning. This, of course, gets people quite uncomfortable. From a theological standpoint, what is there to say about reproductive cloning?

Well, to start with, one could take the standpoint of Jürgen Habermas: that the idea of all humans being naturally endowed with rights ends where some humans are no longer natural or no longer come about in a natural manner. Thus, the fundamental equality is endangered by reproductive cloning, which is therefore declared unethical. This is, however, not theologically satisfying. The fundamental rights which one wishes to ascribe to humans are from a theological standpoint not rights of the human qua natural human, but of the human qua God’s creation. This is to say that the human-ness of the human and the value of the human are not derived from a sort of naturalness, but rather from the fact that God takes an active part in the determination of that individual as a person and human. If this route were the only one available, it would be all too easy to argue that clones, as non-natural humans, don’t have souls and are deserving of treatment as such.

What about the fundamental inequality, if, as a recent edition of the weekly newspaper “Die Zeit” points out, we have at some point in the future the ability to genetically determine talents and abilities? If Christianity be a religion in which the slave can love the master and the master can love the slave, without requiring external equality, this is not something which cannot be overcome. So-called “natural” talents are also not equal, and it would be foolishness to wish them so. God does not gift all equally, so this can’t in itself be a basis for a theological critique – or should we call it sin to send a child to a better school, for a better education? The difference in the action is only a matter of degree.

We might also take the classic path of criticism, that scientists are “playing God” – whatever that means. After all, it can’t possibly mean new creation, but rather the mere new ordering of existing created things; God as the only one with the capacity to genuinely create new life in the proper sense of the word makes that a theological dead end. Perhaps it refers to the arrogation to oneself of power which is reserved for God. This is familiar territory – after all, what else was the Fall, if not such arrogation of something reserved for God? The thing about the Fall is, the arrogation didn’t work. Satan promised “becoming like God”, yet man’s rebellion against God is only the projection of himself into the place of God, not genuinely taking God’s place. Milton’s Paradise Lost even empties what gain there was when it notes that Adam “his knowledge of Good lost, and Evil got”  (Bk XI Ln. 87) – the gain of knowledge in the attempt at arrogation is truly a loss. Furthermore, if one is arrogating to oneself God’s power by engaging in reproductive cloning, it must not be something reserved only for God, as if He is an earthly ruler whose security system might be bypassed by the clever thief. The conclusion here is, unfortunately, that if it works, it isn’t “playing God”, but rather something which God has obviously allowed humans to do.

So what are we left with? Free self-development. A part of what it means to be human is to be determined by God alone – indeed, through the mediums of culture, society, education and so forth, but in the initial setting of conditions the only one who has a choice in the matter is God. Upon these conditions, the fundamental freedom of the human is to develop himself in whatever direction he might so choose – he is free to be what he will. Factually, the condition of sin determines our choices, but even the allowance of sin in the first place lies with the determination of God; the freedom offered by Christ to turn from sin even more so. The determination by another human of one’s predisposition (genetic altering) amounts to an objectification of an individual, as does the determination by another human of one’s lot in life merely on the basis of origin (clones as non-holders of rights). This objectification of the other is where theological ethics can critique reproductive cloning – but it must do so in the full awareness that this critique applies elsewhere: in the market economy which takes advantage of many for the inordinate gain of the few, in unjust immigration politics, in consumption-oriented behavior which supports the objectification of people across the globe and/or ignores the environmental consequences for others, and even in the day-to-day encounters of those “not like us”: other races, ideologies, opinions, genders, sexual orientations, and so forth.

Theology can critique reproductive cloning when the fundamental relation between humans is held to be that of neighbor-love – yet we as Christians must look to ourselves and our communities, that we live this neighbor-love out. Only from a standpoint of radical difference is this critique justified; perhaps it shows our need for thorough self-critique as well.

Restarting - Again

So this is the second or third time I have had to explain a long dearth of posts, though I think this hiatus has been the longest. There is a good reason, as well as reason to believe that I will be posting more regularly in the future. To the explanation:

At the end of last year, after all the annual conferences, several things occured. I was rather ill for quite some time, and barely made it to my work obligations, and I finished my dissertation at the LMU. The latter, of course, did not mean that I was finished here, oh no - for the German University has little to do with the real world, and has wonderful rules like "submission only in April or October, and presence of printed work for an entire semester before Rigorosum", which means that I still have to wait until July for the final bit (what would normally be a defense in the Anglo-American world is here one major and two minor examinations; in my case Systematic Theology as the major and New Testament as well as Church History as the minors). I've also begun a temporary position lecturing here at the LMU (at the Catholic Faculty) and hope to get a research grant near the end of the year. Interestingly, I should manage to wrap up my philosophy DA at HMU around the same time as the D.theol. at the LMU, which should make this summer most interesting.

In short, I failed to blog and email and do social networking, but it looks like that period should end. If you were in email correspondence with me and haven't heard from me prior to reading this, it's coming (this week is vacation).

"Analytic" and "Continental" as Theological Categories

A note to begin: this has very little to do with the differences between Analytic and Continental Philosophy, their possible reconcilation, or anything of this sort. This is only about how theology takes concepts from each.

Quite a lot of modern Protestant theology has recourse to modern continental thought, at least insofar as modern Protestant theology is critically reflective and admits of its philosophical underpinnings. This is an interesting phenomenon in the English-speaking world, as most of the philosophy departments (even at the same universities!) belong to the analytic tradition. The use of analytic philosophy is, in my experience, more often done or conditioned by Roman Catholic theologians (this is admittedly excluding those individuals who are in the and/or category: for example, do Plantiga and Craig do philosophy or theology, and are they philosophers or theologians?).

So as a Protestant whose philosophical background lies primarily in the analytic tradition, I have had several experiences which shed light on the relationship between theology and the two traditions:

First, many theologians hear "analytic theology", think "analytic philosophy", and understand "logical positivism". I grant that at one point this might have been an acceptable inference, however, it is certainly no longer the case. There is a great deal of work to be done in theology so that we as Christians do not simply repeat the animosities of philosophy departments, and so that we can critically appropriate analytic methodology (as well as perhaps making our critical reflection on other philosophical traditions a bit more critical).

Second, still on the topic of analytic theology, if the former connection is not made, it seems that folks hear "analytic theology", think "English-speaking Roman Catholics", and understand "Neo-Thomism". Yeah, so, see above on methodology. Not only that, there are enough historical examples to be had of systematic Protestant thinkers, even those who operated on much the same (philosophical) foundation as Aquinas (for example, the Lutheran Johann Gerhard), that we don't need this sort of blanket category. The Neo-Thomists can remain so, but let's not lump everyone in there, shall we?

Third, in regard to the relationship between theology and philosophy period (I may take some heat for this): there was a time when one was expected to have a solid philosophical foundation (in the sense of a wide understanding of the broad strokes) before even doing theology - this was for a long time the case in European universities, and it is some of the root reason why in America today we have an MDiv which one can begin despite having a Bachelor's degree in something else. With the exception of between 5-10% (and excluding all of the "let's get philosophy out of theology" people, oy), I would not hestitate to claim that most theologians (and pastors) do not adequately understand the intellectual foundations upon which they base their theology. The fact of the matter is, that theology requires the thought-categories and critical reflection of philosophy even to be reasoned discourse - and the attempt to appropriate that which we do not understand is detrimental to the endeavour of theology. This is not something that can be remedied with two semesters of survey classes in a Master's program, either! One can become a good theologian without understanding philosophy, but not only is this very rare, one is also an extremely limited theologian. This is a matter of the intellectual responsibility of the Christian - one may say that this is too much, a prospective pastor can't learn good theology, and philosophy, and the ancient languages, and how to use modern languages, and how to engage with literature (the subject of a post yet to come); I say to that individual that the calling to serve God's people is not preparation to do a professional job, but a calling to this level of preparation for interaction with the Word and the world. Especially in today's society, a lower standard is simply inadequate preparation (to be sure, God uses the inadequate, for we are inadequate to His task even when held to a higher intellectual standard; let us not sin that Grace may abound!)

As Christians, of whom to some extent each is a theologian, let us keep clear the differences between methodology in theology and intellectual tradition in philosophy, let us heed the call to develop ourselves enough to be able to differentiate that which we appropriate, and let us above all learn that our commitment to God is not a snatch-time-around-the-edges or a go-home-at-5 obligation, but rather a 100% release of self to the One who reforms (and re-forms) our very being.

God in the Forst

I have been lucky enough that this week I have been able to start a couple of my days by taking a walk in the forest with my dog. I am fortunate in that I live about ten minutes' walk away from the "Perlacher Forst" (yes, the title of this post is not a typo), so it's pretty convenient, when I have an hour to an hour and a half, to walk over there and get out in nature. It's the type of forest that this American is still amazed by, the sort that a Floridian only sees in movies and reads about in books - little undergrowth, and in some places pretty old growth.

This morning, I was walking with the dog and just looking at the trees (and what animals stuck around long enough to be seen), and I was thinking about natural theology. Now, me thinking about natural theology is not an unusual fact, I've kind of been thinking about it pretty steadily for years now due to the research. This was not so much an theoretical consideration, though. My major project for a while has been defining what natural theology is, and how Christians can use it - in a nutshell, as part of the revelatory framework for thinking about God, but not as a method to get to knowledge of God in the first place. There have been some decent modern takes on this, though I note that, aside from a section of time following the Enlightenment, the modern views are more of a ressourcement than original ideas.

Anyway, the point is not the theoretical concept. The point is, that it hit me that in may cases there is still a lot of discussion about the possibility of finding God in nature, given that the Christian knows where to look - there's not been so much discussion about actually doing it. While there is a great deal of need for the theoretical underpinnings (otherwise, I wouldn't have a dissertation), I am also thinking a bit about what a practical application of these sorts of concepts actually looks like. I know I am a couple steps ahead of the game, here - as a movement, it's still on theoretical possibilty, and some of the next steps are things like the nature of the presence of God in the sublime and the beautiful, and interpreting general revelation in the context of particular revelation. Nonetheless, I think that doesn't mean that we can't, in a hands-on manner, begin to think about and act on the how of seeing God in nature, where He has given Himself to be known. A couple of churches here do "Waldgottesdienst", a worship service in the forest every now and then, but I'm not sure if transplanting the liturgy to a different setting is qualitatively the same as genuinely engaging with God's revelation in nature (not that I am arguing for a new liturgy, mind you!). And I am sure that we are not expected by God to go out as individuals and try to interpret our subjective experience. So what does it look like for the community of Christ to reflectively engage with Creation? How can we seek God where He may be found? Perhaps I'm trying to analyze the intuitive, but I think we need to at least ask the questions in our church communities and families. How are we the body of Christ in community, in society, and in Creation?

Making a Comback

So this is essentially the official announcement that I am attempting to start blogging again.

I made it through my comprehensive exams in philosophy (yay!), and am quite pleased with the result (also yay!). Additionally, I have sent the manuscript for the translation off to the publisher, and got all my footnotes in my dissertation, so in theory I have time again.

A piece of advice for anyone writing a dissertation: be very very sure that you have the format right at the beginning. No, asking your advisor is not enough, see it on paper. Moving around 1,000 quotes from inline citation to footnote citation is decidedly not fun.