(Originally posted here.)
From what I have read of N.T. Wright I gain a sense not so much that the Jesus of history is authoritative, as much as he is instructive. And this instruction comes through the symbolism that Wright creates.
(To say that Wright creates his symbolism is neither to suggest or reject the possibility that he may have exaggerated his claims in order to make a point.)
Wright, in my experience, is fundamentally an artist. His pen can simultaneously draw broad brush strokes and pick out fine detail. He attracts us with some stunning feature and then lures us into the complexities of his world, or rather his window on a 1st Century Palestinian world.
I have found his images of Jesus to convey three things:
1) Expectation of Israel 2) Challenge to Israel 3) Meaning
His writing on Jesus and the Temple is an example. 1) Israel expected a restored Kingdom with the coming of the Kingdom of God, of which the Temple would be a central symbol, particularly of the dominance of the Jews. 2) Jesus identifies himself with the Temple and says it will be destroyed, and then himself dies. He then rises, rebuilding the ‘Temple’, as he said he would. 3) Jesus is now the place to meet God and He is no longer confined to Israel as a national or geographic phenomenon.
But we behold these facts as one examines a work of art. We receive from Wright (amidst a considerable mass of words!) a ‘sense’ of who Jesus is and how that might be immediately relevant.
I believe it is the images and the ensuing intuitive reaction created by critical realism, of which Wright is a master, that define this method’s true value. This is why I am not so concerned about the differences in opinion between Wright and other critical realists or indeed the possibility that they may possess exaggerated claims and a hypnotically persuasive quill. One does not appreciate art in the same way one dissects a Systematic Theology.
Theology and art
Matt, thanks for this – it takes the discussion in a very important direction (which is why I took the liberty of moving it to a new thread). A theology for the emerging church must (I think) be developed on the foundation of good historical and exegetical method, and Tom Wright’s work is proving to be exemplary in this respect – though it would be good to bring some other theologians into the frame!
But clearly there is also a need for a more creative, imaginative process that runs alongside the scholarly task, interacting with it, feeding off it, retelling the story in new ways, working it into the fabric of our lives and into the popular imagination. I guess it is the centrality of story in Wright’s work that makes this possible. Some counterpart is needed to the pervasive culture of traditional evangelicalism – something to give identity and coherence, that holds together the different stories that we tell, or the one story told at different levels, in a complex, multifaceted culture that defines what it means to be authentically Christian in a postmodern, post-Christian world.
A critical-realist theology that does not inspire love, compassion, worship and mission, that does not directly motivate a grounded personal and corporate spirituality, will remain a barren bookish thing. But equally, a shallow, vain postmodern Christian aesthetic that has broken loose from any compelling core narrative will do little to sustain the life of any church, emerging or otherwise.
Everything is both Science and Art, especially Theology
Thank you, Andrew, for your reply. I am inspired by your conclusion that balances freedom and community life in the theological task.
My perspective on scholarship is that unless it can be understood artistically, it is lifeless. Yet equally if arguments are not made with rigorous credibility then they are worthless.
As a musician (an average one, you understand), I have become aware of the interplay between what we might label ‘art’ and ‘science’. The science of an instrument is in the technique learned to create the intended note, the desired effect etc. The art element is elusive, non-rational and the bit that makes music inspiring. It is the ‘soul’ of music. I studied at school with many a pianist who could play Rachmaninov like it was a civil engineering project. It was impressive, but boring.
But what is the ‘right’ way to play Rachmaninov? If I hit all the notes correctly and in the right order, but have not art, I am nothing, just a resounding hammer and a clanging frame!
But in fact, to play the piano with soul involves nothing more than my fingers hitting the notes correctly and in the right order. At the end of the day, metaphors or art and science aside, it is exclusively the hammer hitting the strings on the frame that creates the most beautiful, captivating music as much as the most boring dirge.
It is actually in the interplay of art and science that beauty and power is created. The art affects the science and releases it from something rigid and empirical to something free. And the science constrains the art and gives it the discipline it needs to breed greatness.
So it is, I contend, with theology. We employ rigorous discipline in our academic endeavours, but allow our work to be infused by imagination and creativity. It is in this collaboration, marriage, even, of science and art that powerful transforming theology emerges.
You suggested, helpfully I feel, that ‘some counterpart is needed to the pervasive culture of traditional evangelicalism’. I would propose that what is needed is more intrusive. Not counterpart, but heart. A life force of creativity that can resuscitate a dead form of anti-scientific theology expressed in starved scientific terms. And as the blood of imagination refills evangelical veins, the creature will change, because it has been made alive.