Theology Made Flesh
I am a student-theologian, which means that although I do not yet have a degree in theology, I do spend quite a bit of time learning from theologians as we think about God and what God means in our current context, both academically and practically.
Recently, I have been pondering what the words “Theologian” and “Theology” mean. My evangelical friends often tell me that anyone who thinks about God is a theologian, thus theology, as they would define it, is simply the act of thinking about God. In their mind, everyone is a theologian.
My more High-Church friends offer perhaps a different definition. A theologian is someone who has academic credentials in theology and theology is not just thinking about God broadly but thinking about God critically. Therefore, everybody can’t go around calling themselves a theologian because not everybody has the academic standing to label themselves a theologian, nor does everyone think critically about God.
I find that both of these definitions are insufficient, because the bar that they set for what makes “theology” and a “theologian” is far too low on one hand and elitist on the other.
Anyone of able mind, with or without a theology degree can conceivably think about God, and there are many people with theology degrees who think critically about God from the safety of their academic offices and classrooms, but who don’t actually have to live out the consequences of their theologies.
Thus, I view theology as not only thinking about God, or thinking about Him critically, but rather theology is the human discipline of thinking about God within the context of human flourishing and right relationship with God.
As aforementioned, anybody can think about God, but the question is, what god are they thinking about? Is their god the god of capitalist interests, prioritizing the protection of the so-called “free market” over the dignity of workers. Is their god the god of racist and white supremacist imagination, by which systems of white domination become tantamount to holiness? Is their god a homophobe and a transphobe who equates the sanctification of their creation with becoming more and more heteronormative and cisgendered?
If this is, indeed, the god that some theologians speak of, then pardon me for being totally uninterested in that god.
And what theology is being perpetuated? Is it a theology of whiteness, of heterosexism, of capitalism, of power and domination? Because if this is what some folks mean when they talk about their “theologies”, then I am not interested in this either.
For me, theology must be an intimate and human discipline. As Queer Theologian Marcella Althaus-Reid says, theology must be “indecent”. It must be concerned with the well-being of human beings and how they experience the world around them in the context of Divine revelation. It ought not be subservient to systems of domination and oppression, but rather it must seek to abolish such systems in the name of human flourishing.
It can’t be concerned with protecting institutions that cause harm but must radically go after the harmed. After all, didn’t Jesus say that He was the “good shepherd”? Did He not promise to leave the flock of 99 sheep for the one who was lost? Must not theology be about doing exactly this, providing a philosophical framework for people to understand their social context in light of what God is doing?
It can be so tempting, especially for theologians who come from a position of privilege, to view theology in the abstract, safely removed from the lived experience of real human beings as though it were an entity entirely composed of rationale. This view of theology inherently benefits those whose theologies are oppressive, because all they have to do is frame their theology as though it were objective fact in order to justify the systems they benefit from.
Take the often-repeated conservative evangelical argument that experience should not be the primary point of theological departure, for example. We should just read the Bible at face value first, and your experience will matter later, or not at all, they say. How does this theological mindset fit into the homophobic, racist, sexist, and classist society in which we live? This is more of a rhetorical question, because anybody not married to fundamentalist Biblical thinking can see clear as day that it is precisely this kind of thinking that has allowed rampant abuse to persist in churches and colleges and other institutions for decades.
It is no wonder that the people who don’t view the embodied experiences of LGBTQ people, people of color, and poor people as important enough for theological introspection and alteration are the same people who downplay or deny the high suicide rates of Queer and Trans people due to discrimination, who deny that systemic racism exist, and who participate in the unholy union of ecclesial and capitalistic interests. Their theology is divorced from the human experience, and it is callous and indifferent to human suffering at best, while actively participating and perpetuating suffering at worst. It is, to be blunt, bad theology.
I propose a radically different kind of theology, one that takes the human experience and actually values it enough to be transformed by it. It is a theology of my enslaved ancestors, who, as the Rev. Dr. James H. Cone brilliantly points out, weren’t interested in whether or not Genesis was scientifically accurate or whether Calvin or Arminius was right about salvation, or which atonement theory was the correct one. They were concerned with Jesus’ role as a Divine liberator, who both identified with their oppression and gave them hope of liberation.
It is a theology that focuses little on conceptual ideas and hypotheticals about God, but rather focuses on God as interacting with and being intimately involved with His beloved Creation. It is a theology that carries with it the tradition of liberation theologians like Cone, Guitierez, Williams, and Althaus-Reid. Rather than believing the body to be either entirely fallible, entirely sinful, entirely secondary or tertiary to theological formation, the theology most informative to my thinking is that which views the body as sacred, and views experience as finite in its most basic form but transcendent in its optimal form.
As Christ is the Word made flesh, I propose a Theology made flesh. As Jesus Christ dwelt among us, as the Scripture says, theology too must dwell among us, entering the most intimate parts of our being and holding it up as significant enough for God to care about.
Theology must be embodied, because there is something significant and beautiful about experiencing God in our senses. The Eucharist points us to this truth, because in giving His body and blood to us, Our Lord demonstrated that His revelation is one that cannot simply be thought of or theorized about, but it can be tasted and seen, also. That is why Jesus told Thomas to touch His pierced hands and feet, so that St. Thomas would feel His resurrection. Jesus wants us to taste and see His goodness, and when we do that, we are embodying good theology.
As the Psalm 34:8 says,
Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.
