At a recent panel discussion of the legacy of 4 theologians (two men and two women; Protestant, Catholic and Jewish), we were asked, “what kind of theology do we need in order to meet?”

(1) Etsi theologia non daretur: What would it mean to live, “as if there were no theology”?

“Theology” can facilitate our meeting with each other, but more often it serves to hinder or even prevent it. Living “as if theology did not exist” does not mean renouncing theology, any more than living “as if there were no God” means announcing that God is dead. Rather, both statements urge us to live fully, passionately, humanly, in the here and now. “God” can be an excuse to release us from the responsibility of living freely and acting responsibly in this life. “Theology” can take the place of human solidarity, compassion, understanding, dialogue.

If we come together as theologians to talk about people, and to debate conflicting ideas, then we have come to deal with a subject, to resolve a problem, to fight for “truth”, to defend our interests, to exert control – anything but to meet with fellow human beings.

The Synagogue and the Gentile Question: Bonhoeffer’s article, “The Church and the Jewish Question”, was a powerful and important voice against the rising tide of anti-semitism in the Third Reich. But, perhaps unavoidably, his answer was framed in the flawed dialogue of his day. Why do we need to “do something about the Jews?”We don’t need to solve “the Jewish Problem”, or any more than Jews need to solve “the Gentile Problem”! Why not meet for meeting’s sake, rather than to explain, solve, defend or control?

My daughter Amelia just checked The Adventures of Tom Bombadil out of the Library. Reading together spurred many questions: Who is Bombadil? Where did he come from? Why is he here, and “what are we supposed to do with him”? I came across this quote from Tolkien about Bombadil and his place in Middle-Earth.

“I might put it this way. The story is cast in terms of a good side, and a bad side, beauty against ruthless ugliness, tyranny against kingship, moderated freedom with consent against compulsion that has long lost any object save mere power, and so on; but both sides in some degree, conservative or destructive, want a measure of control. But if you have, as it were, taken ‘a vow of poverty’, renounced control, and take your delight in things for themselves without reference to yourself, watching, observing, and to some extent knowing, then the questions of the rights and wrongs of power and control might become utterly meaningless to you, and the means of power quite valueless…”

I’m not sure I can live this way everyday, all day, or even that I should. But I have determined to practice renouncing control, to “take delight in things (and especially people) for themselves without reference to myself” at every available opportunity.

Perhaps then the real question we should ask is this: “Do we need theology to meet with each other?”

When we meet, first and foremost, as human beings, the chance will come in due time to talk about theology.

(2) “Who is Dietrich Bonhoeffer for us today?”

Our spiritual masters either live for us, with us, and in us, or else they walk among us as Zombies. I decidely prefer dealing with a living person than even the most well preserved (or even animated) corpse.

Powerful, significant ideas have a life of their own. Bonhoeffer had a knack for expressing deep thoughts in pithy, well-turned phrases. Being faithful to Bonhoeffer does not mean to repeat his bon mots word for word, like some magical spell or mantra. As we understand his context and our context, as we consider the challenges and opportunities he faced and embrace the ones we face today, insights both old and new will be framed in new words, and worked out in new ways.

Christ is “God-for-us” and the “man-for-others”. Therefore, argues Bonhoeffer, to follow Christ means to live for others, and we are only Christ’s Church when we exist “for-others”. We are familiar with these words, which are a powerful re-statement of the Gospel. To the religious leaders of his day, Christ told the story of the Good Samaritan. He rebuked his disciples for lording it over each other, and embodied his command to serve one-another by washing their feet. Yet when he asked the woman at the well for a drink of water, he was not demanding she serve him, but offering to serve her, by inviting her to ask him for living water.

What would Christ (or Bonhoeffer for that matter) say today to the less-priviledged, to the masses of people unfortunate enough to be manipulated and exploited by those in power? Or to those who are so busy caring for others that they neglect caring for themselves? In the propaganda and program of the powerful, declaring “you must live-for-others”, really means “you-must-live-for-us”. Instead of repeating the “man-for-others” mantra, Bonhoeffer today might declare:

“A woman must first be “for-herself”, before she can she be “for-others.”

How do we feel about that? Does it make us uncomfortable, does it question our theology and our practice, revealing contradictions and forcing us to rethink male-female roles and responsibilities in the home, family, church, society? Might Bonhoeffer (and Christ) be asking us to (work to) change those structures and roles?

Joel Burnell

May, 2014