"Let there be light" (Gen 1.3)

The two creation stories are fundamental to Christian faith because they mark the beginning of humanity. Whether we believe them or not, these stories have been passed down orally and chosen to be recorded in the Bible. Upon closer examination of these texts, we have come to an understanding that God created the heavens and the earth specifically for humanity.

In the first story, for example, God separates light and darkness on the first day, calling the light "day" and the darkness "night." Yet He appears to do so again on the fourth day through the creation of the sun, moon and stars. He says, "Let there be lights in the dome of the sky, to separate day from night" (Genesis 1.14). Why do we see this repetition?

It is also interesting that with the creation of day and night came these rational concepts known as time and seasons. These were established before the creation of man. Can we then say that God had intended for everything to be catered to humanity?

Another example that points to a human-centric perspective is God's agency in the creation of the world. While the animals and plants are brought forth from the earth (Genesis 1.24), humanity was created directly by God in the "divine image"(Genesis 1.27).

The second story also contains instances of God's intent for the earth as created for humanity. Man was created first by God, who "blew into his nostrils the breath of " (Genesis 2.7). After creating man in His image, He then created the earth with all of the animals and plants to be used for man.

Though the two versions recount creation in different ways, they fundamentally contain the same theme- that God created the universe for humanity. Given this, how then can we understand the two stories as one interpretation of our beginning? And what is the reason behind having both stories included in the Bible? Please shed some light on this topic? :)

This blog was posted by Anika Aquino, Meagan Koeth, and Hannah Welz.

What's Professor Berry's deal with these theological cliches?

In order to help you get a better sense of why I am so adamant about these terms (and terms like them), I am pasting here a passage from George Orwell's essay "Politics and the English Language." I think it will help you understand my position. Also, notice that he mentions the Catholic Church and one of his examples is from The Book of Ecclesiastes.

"Meaningless words. In certain kinds of writing, particularly in art criticism and literary
criticism, it is normal to come across long passages which are almost completely lacking
in meaning. Words like romantic, plastic, values, human, dead, sentimental, natural,
vitality, as used in art criticism, are strictly meaningless, in the sense that they not only do
not point to any discoverable object, but are hardly ever expected to do so by the reader.
When one critic writes, "The outstanding feature of Mr. X's work is its living quality,"
while another writes, "The immediately striking thing about Mr. X's work is its peculiar
deadness," the reader accepts this as a simple difference opinion. If words like black and
white were involved, instead of the jargon words dead and living, he would see at once
that language was being used in an improper way. Many political words are similarly
abused. The word Fascism has now no meaning except in so far as it signifies "something
not desirable." The words democracy, socialism, freedom, patriotic, realistic, justice have
each of them several different meanings which cannot be reconciled with one another. In
the case of a word like democracy, not only is there no agreed definition, but the attempt
to make one is resisted from all sides. It is almost universally felt that when we call a
country democratic we are praising it: consequently the defenders of every kind of
regime claim that it is a democracy, and fear that they might have to stop using that word
if it were tied down to any one meaning. Words of this kind are often used in a
consciously dishonest way. That is, the person who uses them has his own private
definition, but allows his hearer to think he means something quite different. Statements
like Marshal Petain was a true patriot, The Soviet press is the freest in the world, The
Catholic Church is opposed to persecution, are almost always made with intent to
deceive. Other words used in variable meanings, in most cases more or less dishonestly,
are: class, totalitarian, science, progressive, reactionary, bourgeois, equality.
Now that I have made this catalogue of swindles and perversions, let me give another
example of the kind of writing that they lead to. This time it must of its nature be an
imaginary one. I am going to translate a passage of good English into modern English of
the worst sort. Here is a well-known verse from Ecclesiastes:

I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the
strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet
favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.

Here it is in modern English:

Objective considerations of contemporary phenomena compel the conclusion that
success or failure in competitive activities exhibits no tendency to be commensurate
with innate capacity, but that a considerable element of the unpredictable must
invariably be taken into account.

This is a parody, but not a very gross one. Exhibit (3) above, for instance, contains
several patches of the same kind of English. It will be seen that I have not made a full
translation. The beginning and ending of the sentence follow the original meaning fairly
closely, but in the middle the concrete illustrations -- race, battle, bread -- dissolve into
the vague phrases "success or failure in competitive activities." This had to be so, because
no modern writer of the kind I am discussing -- no one capable of using phrases like
"objective considerations of contemporary phenomena" -- would ever tabulate his
thoughts in that precise and detailed way. The whole tendency of modern prose is away
from concreteness. Now analyze these two sentences a little more closely. The first
contains forty-nine words but only sixty syllables, and all its words are those of everyday
life. The second contains thirty-eight words of ninety syllables: eighteen of those words
are from Latin roots, and one from Greek. The first sentence contains six vivid images,
and only one phrase ("time and chance") that could be called vague. The second contains
not a single fresh, arresting phrase, and in spite of its ninety syllables it gives only a
shortened version of the meaning contained in the first. Yet without a doubt it is the
second kind of sentence that is gaining ground in modern English. I do not want to
exaggerate. This kind of writing is not yet universal, and outcrops of simplicity will occur
here and there in the worst-written page. Still, if you or I were told to write a few lines on
the uncertainty of human fortunes, we should probably come much nearer to my
imaginary sentence than to the one from Ecclesiastes. As I have tried to show, modern
writing at its worst does not consist in picking out words for the sake of their meaning
and inventing images in order to make the meaning clearer. It consists in gumming
together long strips of words which have already been set in order by someone else, and
making the results presentable by sheer humbug. The attraction of this way of writing is
that it is easy. It is easier -- even quicker, once you have the habit -- to say In my opinion
it is not an unjustifiable assumption that than to say I think. If you use ready-made
phrases, you not only don't have to hunt about for the words; you also don't have to
bother with the rhythms of your sentences since these phrases are generally so arranged
as to be more or less euphonious. When you are composing in a hurry -- when you are
dictating to a stenographer, for instance, or making a public speech -- it is natural to fall
into a pretentious, Latinized style. Tags like a consideration which we should do well to
bear in mind or a conclusion to which all of us would readily assent will save many a
sentence from coming down with a bump. By using stale metaphors, similes, and idioms,
you save much mental effort, at the cost of leaving your meaning vague, not only for your
reader but for yourself. This is the significance of mixed metaphors. The sole aim of a
metaphor is to call up a visual image. When these images clash -- as in The Fascist
octopus has sung its swan song, the jackboot is thrown into the melting pot -- it can be
taken as certain that the writer is not seeing a mental image of the objects he is naming; in
other words he is not really thinking."

From : http://mla.stanford.edu/Politics_&_English_language.pdf where you can read the entire text if it interests you. I highly recommend the entire essay.

Interpretations Of God

In the article by Karen Armstrong there was a lot of discussion of the various interpretations of God. She discussed differences between modern and ancient interpretation and also how the difference between mythos and logos play into interpretation.

Mythos and logos, at least in the past, go hand in hand. Logos (reason) helps man explain external reality. It's essential to discovery, invention, and the like. To explain the inexplicable, those in the past utilized mythos; stories which did not necessarily occur, but which explained things which always occur. It explores the human psyche, his soul, and what he cannot fully and empirically understand. Mythos used to be equally as useful as logos, but it has lost it's hold to logos, especially in the practice religion and in the interpretation of God (He who was once "Nothing" in the medieval times and now some sort of powerful being which people seek to define).

We believe that this excerpt from Armstrong seeks to point out the negative aspects of modern faith and interpretation and bring us back to the times before science and logic over analyzed the mysteries of faith. Though she did not directly state this, we feel, and agree, that our era has drifted from being enveloped and inspired by those mysteries to fundamentalism which seeks to, again, over analyze and use sacred scripture, tradition, and ritual to its own benefits. As Dei Verbum tries to convey to readers, scripture must not be literally interpreted due to changing times, and Armstrong appears to be backing the proclamation by the Vatican II Council.

But has the current way we worship, through rites and practice, really taken us away from true faith? Has the climate of the modern world made God seem smaller or more insignificant since some believe they narrowly define Him?

This post is by Chris Hudson and Meghan Creane (on Brook's blog since we can't figure out how to publish it on ours, we took ages trying to figure it out)

Living the Questions

I was thinking about this quotation in our last class discussion when were talking again about questions. It's from one of my favorite texts (not a theological text), and I thought that I would share it with you:

"You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now." ~ Rainer Maria Rilke in Letters to a Young Poet

Anselm and Aquinas

In the first two reading passages (excluding the Robinson article), we are presented with two very different methods of theological thought. Whereas Thomas Aquinas primarily discusses theological issues in a manner that is structured and to the point, Anselm's writing, the Proslogium, is more characterized by an internal "discourse" that delves into personal theological struggles. For most of us, Aquinas' method is closer to what we are used to, as it is more academically oriented. Therefore, it is important to examine more closely the Proslogium, as though it might be more foreign to us, it nevertheless contains great insight. So, how does Anselm's method of writing and "doing" theology impact the content and issues with which he is dealing? In other words, how does his style affect the reader's understanding of what he is trying to communicate.

Then in regards to Aquinas, in Article 1, the first objection brings up philosophical science and how "we have no need of any further knowledge." Aquinas, later on, refutes this point and disproves it. Yet, this point brings a different question: what is the relationship of philosophy and theology? Last semester, a similar question arose in our reading of "The Philosophical Act" by Josef Pieper. Pieper maintains that theology and philosophy seek answers to the same questions, but have different approaches. If this is the case, then which method of seeking answers do you feel is more effective?

Both Aquinas and Anselm hold that faith is the starting point of theology, which then leads to reason and hopefully to understanding. Anselm states this almost directly and Aquinas says that divine revelation is necessary to know certain truths, thereby implying it. Since faith is a gift, not a product of man's own work, how is it that some people are apparently born with faith, while others it can take years to find, and still others may never gain it. How does this fit in with the Christian understanding of God's love and His desire for all His creation to seek Him and find Him?

Dan Grabowski, Andrew Krema, Rhodes Bolster

Religious Thought vs. Religious Propaganda

In order to continue the very good conversations that we were having in class today, I wanted to open up a blog discussion on this topic. Robinson says, "In our strange cultural moment it is necessary to make a distinction between religious propaganda and religious thought, the second of these being an attempt to do some sort of justice to the rich difficulties present in the tradition." Please post any thoughts that you had during class and weren't able to say. As you do, and as this conversation takes shape, in might be worth looking at the second part of Robinson's sentence, where she refers to religious thought as "an attempt to do some sort of justice to the rich difficulties present in the tradition." Today, in class we talked about some of those difficulties. How would religious thought treat these better than religious propaganda and why? What would religious propaganda looked like that did not deal with these difficulties in a just way? Is that a problem?

More on Marilynne Robinson

For those of you who enjoyed Marilynne Robinson's article, here is a review of her book Gilead, which won the Pultizer Prize. I can honestly say that it is one of the most beautiful books that I have ever read. Here is a sentence from the review that sums up why: 


"What elicits tears at the book's close, I think, is a highly unusual literary experience: Robinson (in her role as author of this creation) allows even a faithless reader to feel the possibility of a transcendent order, thanks to which mercy can reign among people on Earth."

What is Faith?

A lot of what we will do in this class will hinge on definitions: faith, belief, religion, Christianity, understanding, church, priesthood, and even, Jesus himself. So as a means of getting the discussion started, I thought I would share a quotation from one of my favorite novels: Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry. I wouldn't really call it a "religious" novel. Not in the sense that we usually think of them. Jayber himself is not that "religious" in the traditional sense. But he does have faith and spends a great deal of the book working out that faith in a kind of fear and trembling, working out what it means to love and what it means to sacrifice because he loves. It's a stunningly beautiful book. Here is a window into how Jayber defines faith, which I think sets us up nicely to begin talking about "faith seeking understanding."


"But faith is not necessarily, or not soon, a resting place. faith puts you out on a wide river in a little boat, in the fog, in the dark. Even a man of faith knows that we've all got to go through enough to kill us.... Listen. There is a light that includes our darkness, a day that shines down even on the clouds.... His belief is a kind of knowledge beyond any way of knowing. He believes that the child in the womb is not lost, nor the man whose work has come to nothing, nor is the old woman forsaken in a nursing home in California. He believes that those who make their bed in Hell are not lost, or those who dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, or the lame man at Bethedsa Pool, or Lazarus in the grave, or those who pray, 'Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani.' Have mercy." ~Wendell Berry in Jayber Crow