Theology > Everything Else?

I've heard many a pastor & theologian make a comment that, despite their best intentions, really irks me.

It goes something like this: "Theology is the Queen of the Sciences."

They're referring back to an adage used centuries ago by the founders of the original American universities, who wanted ministry preparation to be their most important goal. They saw every other field of study as ultimately existing to support & further the field of theology.

I respectfully disagree, for three reasons.

1. Perhaps most importantly, I see no reason for such a conclusion in Scripture. There is no dichotomy between sacred and secular, no higher versus lower callings.

2. Theology is an applied science. It draws on the resources of literary analysis (to be able to read the sacred text), history (to understand the context of the sacred text), philosophy (to logically reason through & assimilate the principles learned from the text), psychology (to analyze the concept of the human as developed by the sacred text), and the physical & biological sciences (to understand the metaphors & creation description of the sacred text). (There are probably other relationships that I'm missing.) If theology is a queen, then she is rather dependent on her subjects for her survival.

3. I think those who make such a statement are making the classic mistake of confusing the glory of God with information about God. Every field that humans study exists for the purpose of glorifying God in worship from His people. Reading a physics book is not an act of worship unless I respond to the God who created physics; in the same way, reading a theological book is not an act of worship unless I respond to the God described in it. The reformers, after all, longed for "the glory of God alone," not "the knowledge of God alone."

I would, therefore, like to submit the following revised version of this well-meant sentiment: "Doxology is the goal of the sciences."

Have you heard similar statements? How do you think Christian scholars should respond to such statements?

Justice, kindness, and humility, with a side of academic success

He has told you, O man, what is good;
   and what does the LORD require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
   and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

I think about this verse whenever I write my syllabi for the semester, or when students request an extension of a homework deadline, or when I have to respond to an act of academic dishonesty. Managing a course well requires justice, kindness, and humility---and it often feels like pursuing one will obviate another.

It also makes me think of my annual faculty evaluation (and ever-building tenure & promotion evaluation), which has its own triad of requirements: teaching, scholarship, and service (plus the ubiquitous "collegiality" metric). I think that, ultimately, doing justice, loving kindness, and walking in humility are the keys to succeeding at those requirements; in other words, I have an arena in which to pursue the virtues that God wants me to develop, and I'll get good marks from my institution along the way.

A few textual thoughts:

1. I think it's significant that God calls for us to do justice, but love kindness. I think it helps us approach people & situations with the right attitude, and gives us an insight into God's character, as well.
2. Micah doesn't seem to think this triad is very weighty. "What is it that's so hard that God wants you to do?" he seems to be asking. "Why would you not want justice, kindness, and humility?"
3. In the context, Micah has just asked, "How will I come before God [in the temple] and please Him? How can I possibly bring enough to sacrifice [even my own firstborn] to satisfy Him?" Then he answers by describing how he should seek to live these virtues in his life in relationship to others; i.e., it's not how he performs in the worship arena, but in the workaday world and in the community.
   

What "Reformed Christianity" Used to Mean

It amazes me how words can transform meaning so drastically. Take "google," the sound uttered by the young son of a mathematician seeking to come up with a name for 10^100, now the name of a culturally savvy technology giant. Or take the word, "crash;" probably originally an onomatopoeia describing the sound of a tree falling (or the like), this word has expanded to include the failure of abstract or technical systems that are supposed to function, like the economy or a computer, which may not include a recognizable sound. Many words, it seems, gain meaning as time progresses.

Unfortunately, some words lose meaning, like "Reformed Christianity." When a Christian today says that they're "Reformed," they usually mean that they're a Calvinist--i.e., they agree with the synopsis of soteriology described by TULIP, which was formed as a clarification of an aspect of reformed doctrine in response to a group of dissenters.

But the reformed worldview originally was so much more than this. Being reformed meant that you believed that all of human experience was sacred, under the sovereign care of Christ. Being reformed meant you valued people being able to read God's word in their own language. Being reformed meant that you believed that the world was created good, the world was corrupted by sin, and that the world was being redeemed by Christ. Being reformed meant that you believed that the word "world" meant the physical "world" of rocks and trees and skies and seas, the "world" of human beings, and the "world" of cultures and institutions that those people created. Being reformed meant that you believed there was no separation of human life into sacred and secular.

Abraham Kuyper summarized it well when he said, "There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry: 'Mine!'"

That's what "Reformed" used to mean. I hope that we Christians in the academic world can reclaim at least some of this meaning, as our lives and ministries intersect with diverse people and institutions and ideas from all over the world.