A comment on yesterday’s post raised the question of whether I was really talking about theology or whether doctrine was more the source of my own fears and the exercise that, itself, operates out of certain fears. The question of theology or doctrine is a good one, and perhaps a good segue into some further reflections on what biblical theology is and how it’s useful to the theology of the church.
The first thing that’s been on my mind for the past couple of weeks as I’ve wrestled with these questions here is that Christians tend to assume that doctrine is inevitable, that something resembling systematic theology will always be the outcome of our engagement with the Bible, and that these doctrinal statements will inevitably determine what it is to faithfully speak of God and live in the world.
But I don’t think this is the case.
In the Jewish and Christian traditions, the move toward doctrine and systematic theology has been much more of a Christian enterprise than a Jewish one. Yes, Jews believe things, and there are things that they will say are wrong to believe. But “doing theology” has never become the dominant way of expressing faithful Judaism.
I have heard it said on several occasions (although, of course, this is a generalization amenable to numerous counter examples) that early Judaism was a religion of orthopraxis rather than a religion of orthodoxy. Again, even if this is not entirely true, it is an indication that there is a different way to judge the faithfulness of a religion other than the doctrines put down on paper. Whereas evangelical Christianity tends to live as though we can do any old thing we want to as long as we believe the right things, there is no inherent reason why it couldn’t be the opposite–that a group could pretty much decide that you can believe any old thing you want to as long as you do the right things.
I know, I know, believing and doing are not so neatly separated. But (I hope) you get my point. There are cultural and historical factors at work in generating a sense of plausibility around claims that doctrine is inevitable. Given the Bible we have, I’d say that stories are inevitable. Given the Bible we have, I’d say that good enactments and bad enactments, good responses and bad responses, are inevitable. But I’m not as certain that doctrine is inevitable–necessary in the sense of something that will be inherently generated by this collection of texts.
Among the myriad things it testifies to is this: the people of God did not feel any particular compulsion to create a [systematic] theology for over a thousand years. I’m not sure we take that seriously enough.
This is bringing us right up to the edge of what the Bible is (and isn’t) and what that might tell us about what we should (and shouldn’t) be doing with it. I’ll save that question for tomorrow, at which point I’ll mourn and lament the work of J. P. Gabler.
Good thoughts, Daniel. It is so interesting to me to think about how the early church (and Jewish community before?) was identified not (primarily) by what they believed, per se, but by what they did (i.e., witnessing to the Christ event by word and deed). I really hope we are able to become more aware of the fact that our identity is wrapped up in the story of God, and not in our systematic theologies. Keep ‘em coming!
In working on a book on evangelism I discovered that the NT has its own “ortho”-word that I believe ought to replace the non-biblical “ortho’s” we regularly use. It’s found only in Galatians 2:14 – “orthopodousin” (“orthopodeo): to walk right. In the highly significant context of Paul’s rebuking Peter over his failure to either understand or practice “the truth of the gospel,” in his table fellowship in Galatia, this word seems to capture both the practice of and reflection on faith together. To WALK right, one has to actually do something; to walk RIGHT, one has to reflect on the direction of one’s feet. I may be reading too much into this verb but I’m going to try it out with folks for a while and see if it helps bridge the orthodoxy/orthopraxy divide.
Peace,
Lee Wyatt
Some interesting and helpful thoughts here. I (as always) appreciate the critique of evangelicalism that poses too stark a priority of doctrine over behaviour.
I’ve heard it explained that the reason Christians do systematic theology while Jews don’t is that it took the Word objectifying itself, becoming flesh in Christ, to give humans the opportunity to (subjectively, yes) respond to that revealed objectivity of the Word by seeking to articulate its (His) inner coherence. I’m married to that thesis, but I’m flirting with it, thinking about asking it out to dinner.
You imply that doctrine didn’t exist until Thomas wrote the Summa. I certainly don’t buy that. The Apostle’s Creed might not be a multi-book all encompassing theology, but it is definitely doctrine.
Not sure how I communicated that theology didn’t exist until the Summa. Didn’t mean to.
Why do Christians say, “I believe in God…” while the Jews cover much the same ground by praying the Eighteen Benedictions?
I think there’s more to the idea that Christianity turns to credo because it quickly became post-Jewish than folks are sometimes willing to countenance. The difference has more to do with culture and tradition than content.
“the people of God did not feel any particular compulsion to create a [systematic] theology for over a thousand years.”
I’m suggesting the early creeds demonstrate just such a compulsion toward systematic theology.
Ah… I was thinking more in terms of the timeline of the Bible’s composition: OT to the end of the NT, not NT to Thomas.
I think you’re right about the early creeds demonstrating such a compulsion.
Look! Everyone! Adam and I agree!