As an academic trained in theology, I am rather ambivalent to the practice of academic theology, as I have said elsewhere. Too much of the discipline is aimed for academic honors, not theological insight. More often than not, while information is disseminated, meaning is not. The demand to entertain some new topic, or to find a new way of engaging old themes, creates an abundance of new material, but it fails to reach out and help the average person looking to understand their faith. Theology proper should be about two things, and can only be done when they are combined together: faith seeking understanding and the reflective fruit of one’s religious devotion, of one’s talk with God. Both, if properly applied, can lead to rather engaging works that will help the scholar and the non-scholar alike; but if either one is lacking, then what is provided is empty words, and with it, religious confusion to those who try to engage such material.
It is for this reason I’ve tried, as much as I can, to avoid academic conferences, such as the AAR. Knowing that it is time for me to start looking for an academic position as I continue to work on my dissertation, and hopefully finish it up sooner than later, it was time for me to go, and to start making contacts which will help lead me to find such a position. It also provided me the opportunity to listen to several scholars as they reflected upon their various religious pursuits; some papers which I went to bored me to death, others I found interesting, but would have been better if I read it myself and did not have someone read it to me, and a few panels I went to were interesting because of the people who were involved with them.
The last panel I went to was probably the most lively: Theology and Religious Reflection: Saving Paradise: How Christianity Traded Love of This World for Crucifixion and Empire. The discussion was over a new book (Saving Paradise) examining the transformation of Christian thought through the centuries, especially as it developed an understanding of the crucifixion and how this development was used for empire-building; or, as a description of the book puts it, “Saving Paradise offers a fascinating new lens on the history of Christianity, from its first centuries to the present day, and asks how its early vision of beauty evolved into one of torture.” Having not read the book, it sounds to be overly critical, and very unorthodox in its interpretations. Nonetheless, the panel seemed to praise it, and thought that it did well in stressing how orthodoxy and its systematization has been useful for authoritarian regimes, but rarely for Christian liberty. The most important and second most lively speaker on the panel was James Cone; I was able to listen to him in person and see how much his academic and theological career has developed beyond his older, often quoted, works on Black Liberation Theology. Overall, my impression on him was mixed; on the one hand, he is very engaging and personable; once he starts speaking, he is willing to go on and on and on with what he has to say, without any real notion of how much time he is taking. But some of what he said I found personally disturbing: he affirmed the rejection of the idea of orthodoxy. This is problematic, because, as should be clear, if one says orthodoxy when professed in a systematic, theological enterprise is wrong, the only way one can say so is the creation of a new orthodoxy, the unorthodox-orthodoxy, and it seems that many people, Cone included, ignore this ramification of such reflection. While his motive, as he made clear, is valuable – that we must recognize that what was said in the past, by previous thinkers, can not be exhaustive of the truth — this does not mean we can abandon their guidance as we try to engage the truth and learn more about it in the future; tradition provides the base by which we can engage Christ, and without it, we are cut off from the Christian tradition, and we will end up going around in circles, needlessly arguing the same issues over and over again. And this ties to his second point: he does want to keep to a kind of Christian orthodoxy, despite his claims to the contrary. At the end of his talk he went about explaining why the cross is important and cannot be rejected or ignored: the cross reminds us of human cruelty, of the extent of evil in the world. More importantly it puts us, and our suffering, in connection with Christ, which Cone has consistently emphasized over the years: the suffering of black men, killed for being black, being hung on a tree, unites them to Christ, also hung on a tree, for all of humanity. Without the cross, this connection to Christ, making meaning out of suffering, is lost. And the cross is the ultimate sign of orthodoxy, where suffering is overcome by love, and defeat is turned into triumph. It is here, where James Cone speaks of the suffering of the black men and women he knew, where he is at his strongest and most poignant; but it is here where he needs to step back and think, for it is here he should realize orthodoxy proves its ultimate validity.
Beyond a few lively panels, much of AAR, with its hundreds of papers being presented, seems to affirm my general inclinations about academic theology and its problems. Many of the people there were there for the sake of religion and religious faith, but it is also clear, academic theology, no matter which faith one embraces, requires one to limit the positive, theological reflection, and aim for a more neutral, academic discussion. One has to show they know the talks of the past, but one is not encouraged to create new talks for the future – unless one is a person of high repute. While I myself will have to be giving papers sooner than later, I am struggling with the fact that I don’t want to be boxed in by the expectations of academic theology. I want to do theology proper, and not be stifled by the demands of academia. One of the reasons why I do the posts I do on Vox Nova is to give me an outlet, to let some of my trapped thoughts out, so they can be given voice, one which I hope to return to later, but some of which I know academia will never appreciate. AAR has confirmed my fears of academia, but, on the other hand, there seemed to be a few others, like myself, with such complaints. It’s not the fault of AAR itself; it’s the fault of the discipline, and indeed, I think AAR does much service by trying to be as diverse as possible. But that diversity has a limit, and that limit is capable of turning a theologian into an academic, of turning someone’s love for God into an occupation and nothing else. That is what I must strive against as I continue my journey into academia. I would ask for the prayers of anyone who likes what I have to say, or those who do not, so that I do not fall into this trap. I fear it will be ever before me.
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