tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77896441311356313692011-09-17T08:29:57.655-04:00Rennoreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7789644131135631369.post-63247409444412105942010-08-09T09:28:00.010-04:002011-01-25T14:18:31.795-05:00It sometimes disturbs me that I can theorise about God in one way and yet encounter and believe in God in a wholly different way. I might think of and describe God as the omnipotent Other-being who stands outside of time and space, and yet live a faith in which God is intimately close and accessible through prayer. That "theory" and "practice" can be so disconnected raises a question of priority: which is more important?¹<br /><br />Of course, the issue isn't quite that simple. Both theory and practice are rooted in a common, centuries-long tradition, making them hard to distil. This also makes them difficult to reject or revise, and theory in particular -- if we're to equate it with doctrine -- is even less negotiable because it's tied to the unchanging divine revelation. Furthermore, there's the potential problem of internal contradiction in practice, as it's not uncommon for elements of practice to be in conflict with each other. I might, for example, encounter a profoundly feminine aspect of God, and yet still retain the masculine pronouns for God in my religious language.<br /><br />Finally, it's clear that theory and practice influence each other. Well, maybe it's not entirely clear. Most people are at least willing to affirm that theory shapes practice, or, to put it differently, that doctrine shapes ritual. I think the reverse is just as true -- although again, since doctrines are supposed to be derived from the divine revelation, the thought that these doctrines might change is scandalous to some. Just as a person's initial religious experience brings about a new confession of faith, so too do successive new experiences reaffirm, revise, or add to this confession.<br /><br />So when theory and practice come into conflict, which takes priority? If there's an answer to this question, I haven't figured it out yet. On the one hand, lived religious experience can't be ignored, and I can't sincerely affirm with words a reality that I haven't seen. Neither can I uncritically accept a doctrine as true without first testing it against my own experience. On the other hand, the doctrines of a tradition -- and often also the tradition itself -- represent the experiences and insights of the entire community of faith, and I can't simply ignore these, either.<br /><br />This is undoubtedly a question I'll be revisiting later, but I wanted to lay it out as one of the questions of fundamental concern for me.<br /><br />Notes:<br />¹ In future discussions, I'll most likely gravitate away from the language of "theory" and "practice." I've resorted to it here because of its familiarity and ease of use, but the labels are misleading in this context and, moreover, are much better suited to others.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7789644131135631369-6324740944441210594?l=antilegomena.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Rennoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7789644131135631369.post-53548879832007597202010-08-06T12:44:00.004-04:002010-08-06T16:51:19.820-04:00I should like to pose the following questions to God:<br /><br />- If faith can seek understanding, can understanding seek faith?<br />- Which takes priority: the authenticity of experience or the soundness of belief?<br />- Can there be theological reflection in the absence of commitment to any one particular religious tradition?<br />- Can theology enact justice, alleviate suffering, end oppression, and restore hope?<br />- Is the academic vision of God irreconcilable with the God of practised faith?<br />- Can there be no God?<br />- What's faith without love?<br />- What's love without faith?<br />- Can theological reflection and its subsequent practise change God?<br />- Should theology be secondary to love, pain, and forgiveness?<br />- How is faith compatible with violence, enmity, competition, jealousy, power, and pride?<br />- Is anything absolute? Do I have a soul?<br />- <em>Not a single thought arises; is there any fault, or not?</em><br /><br />Presuming an answer to the first question, this blog will operate on the premise that understanding can, eventually, seek out faith. It will primarily explore Christian theology, though without any real preference for one or another doctrinal formulation. Tangentially, it will also examine aspects of East Asian Buddhism, as well as the prominent cultural, economic, and political religions of North America.<br /><br />If you're reading through this blog and you have questions, critiques, or other ideas, please feel free to engage me in dialogue. Clarifying questions are especially welcome, as I may inadvertently leave important details out.<br /><br />A bit about me: I am a Japanese student of Christian theology living in North America. I have soft spots for Zen, socialism, process theology (at times), and Martin Heidegger (at other times), but I don't think these preclude me from exploring other ideas. I spent four years as an evangelical Protestant before reacting against that tradition, and I'm not sure where to situate myself now. I suppose that part, if not all, of the purpose of this blog is to figure that out.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7789644131135631369-5354887983200759720?l=antilegomena.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Rennoreply@blogger.com0