25 October 2008

On the other hand, maybe what theology needs isn’t just patience but a bit more recklessness too. Maybe it’s patience—trying to take everyone everywhere into account, and to understand them in perfect accuracy—that has sometimes made theology such a dreary discipline, “right” perhaps but still totally uninteresting and easy to ignore. When theology is at its most patient or most cautious (attributes which don’t always have to go together but often seem to), it fails seriously to confront people in all our unfailing stupidity and cruelty.

At theology’s very heart is a declaration of pure nonsense: God became a destitute human being who wept before being tortured and executed, and going to hell. And as John tells the story, he did all of this on purpose, being in full control of the situation. That’s God’s recklessness. God being God, her recklessness is bound to come out right (though why and how has bewildered Christians for millennia, and will for more). Ours won’t. Our recklessness will be proven wrong, stupid, and careless again and again. But if we keep trying, maybe our recklessness will occasionally prove to be in the same spirit that provoked God’s recklessness: the Spirit of fathomless and desperate love, according to which we would give ourselves up completely even for someone who hates us with a perfect hatred.

Properly understood, I’m sure this recklessness isn’t really opposed to patience. But forgive me; I’m being a bit reckless.

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Tags: Method