In the “Nuts and Bolts” series, I lay out some of the fundamental ideas and terms used in philosophy and theology for the lay person.

This time I’m looking at kenosis (also referred to less elegantly as kenoticism). Unfortunately, this is one of those terms which in some contexts generates more heat than light. If you search the internet for the term it’s likely that some of the first results you’ll find are extreme statements about the “heresy of kenosis.” Today I found one gem, for example, which claims that “The doctrinal heresy known as Kenoticism originated in the nineteenth century by the German theologians.”

Kenosis, however, is neither heretical nor German, and certainly did not arise in the nineteenth century, even though some nineteenth century German theologians may have formulated the idea in ways that others had not. Far from being an invention of modern Europe, kenosis has a long history in Eastern Orthodox Christianity, a significant branch of the church that many moderns are frankly ignorant of (moderns often including myself).
Interested? Read the rest.

Although I’m often dissatisfied with the distinction between philosophy and theology, and precisely where the line is drawn, I realise that there is a proper distinction between the disciplines. You wouldn’t expect to sit down in a systematic theology class and hear a lecture on the B theory of time (even if for some reason God got a mention), in spite of the fact that some ideas in theology (for example, foreknowledge) might involve presuppositions about time. Similarly it’s unlikely that you’ll hear a lecture on the doctrine of the inspiration of Scripture in a course on philosophy of language, even though the doctrine of the inspiration of Scripture may at times make assumptions about language use. This is just one reason why I think a well rounded education in theology ought to have a philosophical component (and similarly, I think that anyone wanting to study philosophy of religion or to look at the religious implication of other areas of philosophy really needs to invest time studying theology).

To serve this end, I want to recommend with utmost enthusiasm this book, Philosophy for Understanding Theology by Diogenes Allen with Eric Springstead (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007, second edition), paperback, 267 pages. I finished reading the book quite some months ago now and I’ve been meaning to recommend it to my readers.

The book is a sweeping historical introduction to the major schools of thought in philosophy (primarily metaphysics and epistemology) that have a bearing on the study of theology. A real strength of the book is that it doesn’t try to make the theologian a philosopher. The authors don’t try to cover everything in philosophy (an impossible task!). Instead, the key ideas that inform theological issues are unpacked throughout their historical development, and the reader comes away with a brilliant introduction to philosophical worldviews that are responsible, directly or not, for issues in theology. For example, if you bought the book for no other reason, the explanation of classical metaphysics and the basis of categories is simply outstanding – without a doubt the best overview I have come across anywhere. The relationship between Aristotle and medieval scholasticism is covered, as is the scientific revolution and the rationalism / empiricism divide. In order to be a good theologian, all of this is material that you simply need to be familiar with, and here it is presented with great clarity and succinctness.

To be perfectly honest, the later chapters on existentialism and postmodernism lacked the ability to hold my attention that the rest of the book did, but I don’t blame the authors. What can I say – existentialism and postmodernism just doesn’t do it for me.

If I teach a course on systematic theology there’s no doubt that this book will be high on my recommended reading list, and if your interest is in theology but you don’t have an undergrad background in the history of theology, metaphysics or epistemology, you should definitely give this one the time to read. Even if you’re just someone who reads the history of ideas for pleasure, you’ll get plenty of pleasure here.

Even better, if you use this link, you’ll get a great price from the Book Depository, free shipping worldwide, and the bookstore will send a few pennies to Say hello to my Little Friend.

I wasn’t sure whether I would share this or use it as an opportunity for comment. I’ve decided to do so, albeit with some fear and trembling. Somebody has to say things like this. If you think I shouldn’t have done so, or if you’re personally (or professionally) connected to the circumstances I describe here, don’t use the comments section to point this out. If you’re concerned enough, contact me privately.

A while ago, I applied for an academic job at a Christian college of higher learning. I describe it vaguely that way so as not to give any clues which college this was, but I’ll say that it was in New Zealand. Reading the job description, it looked to me like I was ideally qualified for the role, and given the profile of the college, which was not as high as some, I thought I might even have stood a good chance. I was interviewed, but I didn’t get a the job. That was a bummer, but it happens. I figured I would just keep doing what I do, doing my time in my job that I had always said I would just keep doing until I landed the sort of job I was looking for, trying to squeeze out of the rest of my schedule the time and space to work very hard at raising my profile to improve my chances of getting this sort of job.
Interested? Read the rest.

Episode 42 presents the “minimal facts” approach to the resurrection of Jesus.

This episode doesn’t just present the argument in order to persuade you, it’s also meant to show you what the argument is like so that you can use it yourself (if you find it persuasive of course). It starts out with four facts granted by the majority of New Testament critics, and then works towards an explanation of those facts.

In this episode I refer to other blog posts and podcast episodes, and as promised here are links to those:

Merry Mithras!
Episode 19: Osiris and Jesus
Is there No Evidence that Jesus Even Existed?
Is there No Evidence that Jesus Even Exited? Part 2
Is there No Evidence that Jesus Even Exited? Part 3

Episode 042: The Minimal Facts Approach to the Resurrection of Jesus [ 1:04:14 ] Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

I’m a bit late in noticing this. On the fourth of May 2010, Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, preached a sermon at Charterhouse, London (the text of that sermon is here). Charterhouse – now a boarding school – is a former Carthusian monastery in London (the Carthusians were a Catholic order), and that’s why Williams was speaking there. Now, why would the Archbishop of Canterbury speak at a Catholic monastery?

The cynical (and often correct) side of me says this: It’s just another case of feel good, watered down ecumenicalism, right up there with “inter-faith” prayer meetings. But it’s not. Williams spoke there because it was the 475th anniversary of the execution of John Houghton, the prior of the monastery, along with fifteen other monks who lived there. Along with a public acknowledgement of the evil of what was done here, Williams threw in this gem: “If Henry VIII is saved (an open question perhaps) it will be at the prayers of John Houghton.”

That’s right, the Archbishop of Canterbury suggested that perhaps the head of the English Church, the King, might in fact be lost after all.
Interested? Read the rest.

This week I’m in Auckland taking part in a couple of speaking events as part of Jesus Week at the University of Auckland. On Wednesday the 4th of August I really enjoyed taking part in a panel discussion with Matt and Madeleine Flannagan, called “A Godless Public Square”? The broad subject area was the legitimate role of religious convictions in public life, law and politics – certainly a topical area of discussion today. Pat Brittenden did a great job as moderator/ facilitator of discussion, providing a relaxed and really open forum for conversation.
Interested? Read the rest.

I was raised in the Roman Catholic church. Now, I’m a Protestant. I am most definitely not one of those Protestants who believes that part of apologetics means telling everyone that the Catholic church is evil. I find that flavour of Evangelicalism frankly embarrassing. The truth is that I have a great respect for the Catholic intellectual tradition, in spite of the disagreements I have with the doctrines of that church. I would gladly work with Catholics, fellowship and worship with them, and in fact I’d rather like to work at a Catholic College/University. I wanted to get that out in the open right away. I am an ecumenical Christian, and I cherish the idea that I am part of the catholic (small c, meaning worldwide or universal) Christian faith. Disagreements that I have with Catholics are disagreements among family.

That being said, every now and then I am exposed to a reminder – quite apart from my doctrinal disagreements – of why I could not become a Roman Catholic again. I was having a discussion recently with a friend about the Canon of Scripture – the list of books that are included in the Bible. My friend – a Protestant – was under the impression that the “Apocryphal” books of the Old Testament (called the “deutero-canonical” books by Catholics, when means “second canon”) were actually part of the Hebrew Bible, and that is why they ended up in the Septuagint. I was able to point out for him that actually, the apocryphal books gained their separate status in part because they are the ones that appear in the Septuagint but which are not found in the Hebrew Scripture.

Bear in mind – the point that I am getting to has nothing to do with which books actually do belong in the canon of Scripture. For my purposes here, it doesn’t matter to me what you think about the answer to that question. This issue just provides the backdrop for what I’m about to say.
Interested? Read the rest.