Professor Harold Wells, who teaches Systematic Theology in Toronto at Emmanuel College, has written a big book with a simple message: The Christic Center: Life-Giving and Liberating (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 2004). In fact, the message appears clearly in the title. Wells articulates a Christology which places Jesus clearly in the center of Christianity; and the criterion by which he calls us to judge our faithfulness to this center, whether in our ethics, or scriptural exegesis, or worship, is to inquire whether these activities of faithfulness yield something which is life-giving and liberating. And, as the reader might suspect from the title, Wells draws heavily upon liberation theologies and their younger cousins such as feminist, black, minjung and other prophetic voices of the oppressed and marginalized.
The book has many virtues, some of which I note here:
1. Professor Wells does what the very best teachers do: he teaches by example. And so, even if the reader rejects his thesis in its entirety, nevertheless, his methodology is impeccable and demands careful attention. First, he devotes more than a third of his book to laying down the foundations, asking: what are the criteria for an adequate theology? Clearly, he tips his hat to Paul Tillich’s Systematic Theology, which opens in precisely this manner. And when he raises the matter of rationality, he proceeds at length to define his understanding of rationality when applied to theology. He vents his (friendly) annoyance at Jürgen Moltmann for his failure to articulate criteria until long after he had published many significant works. (I note that this is my primary objection to John Cobb, jr.’s Progressive Christians Speak which I reviewed in an earlier rant.)
Second, Wells devotes much attention to hermeneutics and the dialectical and dynamic environment of theological discourse. And so, in that spirit, he sprinkles his chapters with imagined dialogues between people of varied cultural, ethnic and spiritual points of view. These dialogues illustrate how real people grapple with theological questions—such as the authority of scripture and of church tradition—while they remain tied to the particularity of their circumstances. The lesson is clear: “theological thought is never finished …. ” Dialogue is not a theological activity for believers with too much time on their hands; in its broadest sense, dialogue is the central activity of believing in community (perhaps even in solitude, since prayer is also dialogue). Dialogue enriches us, it chastens and corrects us, it becomes an essential tool of discernment as we strive to live faithfully.
The third example reveals itself in the dialogue which Professor Wells continues with a vast assembly of theologians. No doubt, Wells does not regard his own writing as a static, monolithic statement to be inspected by dispassionate readers much as an archeologist might inspect an artifact. Instead, I suspect he hopes readers will engage his text (and perhaps him directly) in lively debate (part of the living Word). Professor Wells himself provides a wonderful template for such engagement. He ranges over a wide expanse of theological writing. In this respect alone, he does the student a great service by presenting a synthesis of belief running from the tensions of the early church to contemporary concerns arising in response to globalization and our faltering ecosystem. But it is not the scope of his synthesis which is so remarkable as the even-handed and compassionate accounts he gives even of those with whom he finds himself at odds. For example, he provides a wonderful road map of post-Enlightenment skepticism, from Descartes down through Kant to the recent efforts of continental philosophers like Foucault and Derrida, acknowledging their wisdom while gently bringing to light what he views as their shortcomings.
2. Elsewhere in this blog, I have discussed my recent encounters with Progressive Christianity, both through books and through worship. At the risk of overgeneralization, progressive movements tend to be theocentric, de-centering Christ in their expressions of belief. Typically, they do this by enlisting the support of skeptical philosophy in their interpretation of scripture and of modern science in their interpretation of the cosmos. Still, I suspect that some progressives direct their critique at “straw men,” statements of simplistic and oppressive Christologies. However, Professor Wells offers a christology which is neither simplistic nor oppressive. If progressives ever hope to articulate a theology which is both spiritually satisfying and intellectually cogent, then it is to such theologians as Wells that they must direct their objections—and to whom they must deliver their proposals.
Perhaps everything pivots on the one matter which remains unavailable to Wells as a subject of dialogue—the bodily resurrection of Jesus. This is the sine qua non of Christian believing and, therefore, also of Christian identity. Without this simple act of faith—namely that, however absurd it may seem, Christ, as God, overcame death—Christianity crumbles to dust. Here, Wells draws upon Kierkegaard, who embraced the absurdity of faith, arguing that faith would not be faith (and so would be without value) if its claims could be proved to the satisfaction of our rational faculties.
Perhaps I am spiritually thick-headed, or perhaps I am denied the grace of insight. Elsewhere, I have indicated my inability to see the import of death’s conquest through Christ’s resurrection. Perhaps I should be labeled a functionalist, since I seem to need a utility in the promise of eternal life. Instead, I see only an opportunity for abuse and oppression. (e.g. talk of an afterlife belongs to the discourse of the powerful who persuade their subjects to accept suffering with the promise of an accounting at the end of time; but, as noted above, even Wells acknowledges that “theological thought is never finished” which seems to call into question at least one version of an apocalyptic delivery of justice.) Perhaps it is this one thing only which impedes my faith. Perhaps, like the father of the epileptic child, I should cry out: “I believe; help my unbelief!” Perhaps.
3. Professor Wells speaks directly to me in the particularity of my circumstance, as one white male Anglo-saxon protestant raised in southern Ontario to another. And, in spite of my declared “unbelief,” I feel a strong affinity for liberation theologies, certainly for the ethic that calls for solidarity with those who live on the margins, that calls for social justice—an orientation endemic to white suburban congregations of the United Church of Canada. I wonder …
I wonder if, underlying my “unbelief,” there lurks a fear that I might be accused of hypocrisy for the apparent disjuncture between the relative peace and comfort I enjoy and that of those with whom I seek to declare solidarity. I wonder if the only effective liberation theologies are those voiced from within the contexts of suffering. God didn’t call an Egyptian to lead Israel out of Egypt; nor did God instruct a cherubim to set a live coal on the lips of a Babylonian when inspiring a prophetic voice to rebuke the chosen people. It was from the midst of poverty and political oppression in Latin America that Gustavo Gutiérrez arose to articulate a theology of liberation, just as from the long suffering of Afro-Americans culminating in the violent deaths of his mentors, James Cone wrote his seminal piece, “God is Black.”
Nevertheless, I find a third virtue in The Christic Center which may support me here … precisely because it is life-giving and liberating: it is this innocuous-seeming matter of grace. In this, I can unburden myself from my self-condemnation. There is an amazing symmetry here: I can avail myself of God’s irrational act of love through my irrational act of belief. That, I believe, is where my expression of solidarity begins to find a sure footing. And for a hero, as Wells makes clear, I can avail myself of none less than Paul. It is Paul’s conversion which is pivotal for someone like me. Think how impoverished the Church would have been if Paul had been wracked by guilt for his association with the ruling class when he was a younger man. Instead, through God’s grace, through the power of love, Paul was able to leave his history firmly in the past and he was able to muster new energy to change not only himself, but the whole world with him.