good morning

Good morning
Look at the valedictorian scared of the future
While I hop in the De Lorean
Scared-to-face-the-world complacent career student
Some people graduate, but we still stupid
They tell you read this, eat this, don't look around
Just peep this, preach us, teach us, Jesus
-Kanye West, "Good Morning"

I had breakfast with Tim today, and after some good conversation and a trip to Target to pick up some fun for my man R.J. who is giving one of his kidneys to his cousin today, I was driving home and listening to Kanye's new album. I think the combination of the two classes I have on Tuesday nights is a recipe for some big change...I am taking a Mystical Theology class where we are studying the early Desert Fathers, followed by a class on preaching. While I am wrestling with both in very different ways, the readings and the classes are wonderful explorations of my most personal and communal theologies. Union with God and community, and the event of preaching.

As I was listening to the first track on Kanye's album "Good Morning", this morning, this verse (above) struck me in a way as another perspective of the promise I made to myself this year. I promised myself to start putting forth more of my own ideas, new theologies and perspectives that I am wrestling with and trying to articulate. Even though the teachers and preachers are often trying to convince me of "the" way to preach, view baptists, understand the reformation, or new theologies or expressions of church, I promised to start speaking up, questioning out loud more, and find my voice amidst the chorus around me. I'm not going to disregard or stop listening to these voices, these teachers and preachers, but I don't want to wake up years from now, and feel like I never digested what I was told or instructed or learned. I might just join Mr. West for a trip in the De Lorean this year...so good morning.

Bright Sadness

Lent is well on its way, and thus far it has been a great experience. Soda hasn't been nearly as hard not to drink as I anticipated, although not buying any new music has been harder than I thought...I forgot that Arcade Fire's Neon Bible was coming out...anybody gotten their new album? It's gotten great reviews thus far...

As I mentioned before, Lent is traditionally called "Bright Sadness" in the Orthodox tradition, and after a few weeks of exploration into apophaticism, this notion of Bright Sadness has come to more adequately explain this time of Lent during this season of the church year for me. It has marked a period of my life rampant with dramatic change during the last few years and last few months. The Bright Sadness of this time of advent (or Lent), this time of waiting and participating in joining Christ in his sufferings, has brought great illumination, and yet sadness too. There have been moments of recognition and brightness that have reminded me of the importance of spiritual disciplines and obedience, rooted in humility, and a deep reverential silence that have shaped my life since childhood. Yet there have been periods of sadness and grief over the changes from where I've come from, and the loss of former perspectives. There has also been sadness in the changed relationships that have stemmed from deep theological shifts in the last five years, that have made it difficult to continue to perpetuate perspectives that no longer urge me along the journey of faith. And while I grieve in a way the loss and change of certain relationships in that they don't remain the same or rooted within a particular time and place, I also rejoice, for the journey of faith is also bright and illuminating. There is truly a sense of Bright Sadness right now--i.e. I am seeing life in new ways, yet there is a sense of loss, and I am changing and finding God in new ways, yet the relationships around me are also changing.

I've realized that it is important for me to wrestle with some more of these thoughts, and so I've decided to start blogging through Peter Rollins' book How (Not) to Speak of God. This book has been a breath of fresh air, and has helped put into words many of my thoughts that I had yet to find words for, and also stretched me in new ways. Combine this book with some of the best lectures and discussions of my seminary experience on Apophatic Theology from the last few weeks, especially as seen expressed in Pseudo-Dionysius, and bright sadness takes shape in powerful ways.

This should be fun and challenging, and for my friends and family reading this, if there are words that don't make sense, let me know. I know that I have yet to "define" apophatic theology (or for a Wiki definition, click here), and I will come to that, but for now, I'd like to quote a bit of the introduction of Rollins' book, that I won't even comment on tonight, but would simply like for it to ruminate and give shape to the coming discussion. This is found in Rollins' introduction, and explains his reasons for being drawn to mystical theology, which shapes a large part of the book and which illuminates much of my own perspective of how this dialogue about faith, church, the kingdom of God and so much more should take shape. This quote is in reference to Rollins trying to explain why how we (don't) talk about God is important:

"Each time I returned to the horns of this dilemma, I found myself drawn to the Christian mystics (such as Meister Eckhart), for while they did not embrace total silence, they balked at the presumption of those who would seek to colonize the name 'God' with concepts. Instead of viewing the unspeakable as that which brings all language to a halt, they realized that the unspeakable was precisely the place where the most inspiring language began. This God whose name was above every name gave birth, not to a poverty of words, but to an excess of them. And so they wrote elegantly concerning the limits of writing and spoke eloquently about the brutality of words. By speaking with wounded words of their wounded Christ, these mystics helped to develop, not a distinct religious tradition, but rather a way of engaging with and understanding already existing religious traditions: seeing them as a loving response to God rather than a way of defining God (Rollins, xii)."




amen.

semi-pelagian?

We're down to the end of the semester, with class tonight and finals next week. Things never seem to quite slow down as much as you think they could or should...but I'm looking forward to being on the other side of next Thursday when I take my last final and turn in my Historical Theology paper on Origen and his method of biblical interpretation.

Two things I've come to realize thus far in Historical Theology I (which is the class where we study the development of theology and doctrine during the patristic time period, i.e. Augustine, Origen, Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria, Pelagius and many more) are:
1) I tend to enjoy studying the theologians and church leaders who were declared heretical on certain doctrines.
2) I think Pelagius got a bad rap.

I'm reading a lecture on Augustine's perspective on foreknowledge and predestination and it reminds me of all the great "conversations" that took place in college about this stuff. Really...reading all this stuff stirs up a desire to read more Eastern theologies...anybody know some good books? (I'm getting How (Not) to Speak of God by Pete Rollins for Christmas...which should be a good look at some apophatic theology.)