Saturday, June 29, 2013

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

…or, Something to keep you busy over the weekend…

…or, The Past Fortnight in the Theoblogosphere.

It’s actually been more like three weeks since the last link post, primarily because I was on vacation. But lots of good posts went up in the meantime here at DET and around the theoblogosphere. As usually, I’ll give you the DET material first so you can catch up on that before moving on to the wider richness of the interwebs.


So that’s the housekeeping. Here’s what’s going on in other necks of the woods…


There you have it. Enjoy! Until next time . . .

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Thursday, June 27, 2013

Google Reader's Impending Demise (repost)

By now I'm sure most folks have heard that Google will but shutting down its Google Reader system on July 1, 2013. If you are interested in that sort of thing, here is one piece of analysis concerning this move that I thought was interesting.

"But wait, why are you talking about this on DET, the theoblog known for its dry, boring, but none-the-less incredibly stimulating theological fare?"

I know in my spirit that some of you, dear readers, are reasoning thusly in your hearts. The answer is because DET has always had a substantial Google Reader subscribers list. From very early on I made it a priority to ensure that the DET rss feed publishes the full text of posts here, rather than just a teaser that requires you to click through for the content. My own feeling is that I care less about you coming to my site (which is more important for people who have aggressively monetized, anyway) than I care about making the content available to you in as easy a manner possible. At the same time, I would hate to lose contact with that deep rss subscriber base once Google Reader shuts down.

Never fear, I hear you - gentle readers - crying out as did the crowds after Peter's Pentecost sermon: "But what should we do?!?!"

My solution has been to switch over to The Old Reader, and rss subscription system patterned on an older version of Google Reader that was a bit more versatile than the one we have for a little while longer. I'm still getting the feel for it, but I was able to export my subscription list from Google Reader (even if it a little more complicated than it really had to be, and I had to wait a while in the queue on the The Old Reader side as they are doing quite a bit of importing these days...) and am now happily reading away. But if you want more options, I would direct you to this handy list of options. And here's another one. Of course, you can always use the buttons at the end of this post to keep track of DET by subscribing to my Twitter stream or the DET Facebook page.

So I hope that you will be proactive and that you'll keep on reading here at DET even after July 1st!

UPDATE: You can now subscribe to DET and have posts delivered to your e-mail account. Look for the widget at the top of the right sidebar!

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Tuesday, June 25, 2013

"Creation and Reality": "The Reacting God"

So far I've tried to outline the general character of Welker's thought in Creation and Reality, and show how it works out in criticizing one way of approaching the doctrine of creation. In this final post I want to highlight Welker's alternative. He begins by arguing for a more nuanced understanding of God in Genesis 1-2.

As noted in the previous post, Welker concedes that a complete denial of the "model of causation and production" is impossible (11). That said, "the texts are full of instances that emphasize and develop God's reactive experiencing and acting as God reacts to the presence of what is created," whereas the God of the "model" is present only minimally (9). Instead of unpacking his scriptural evidence in depth (though it is certainly worth doing), here's a few examples to support this claim that "the texts describe in a differentiated way God's reacting through perception and evaluation" (Ibid):

  1. "Twice God intervenes in what is already created in order to separate it (Gen. 1:4b, 7b)" (Ibid).
  2. "Seven times the later creation account emphasizes God's evaluative perception: 'And God saw that it was good'" (Ibid).
  3. Finally, according to Welker "The creation account thus emphasizes that divine and human initiative coincide (Gen. 2:5)" in its discussion of "vegetation" (9-10).

For Welker, these examples lead one to believe that "the creating God is not only the acting God, but also the reacting God who responds to what has been created," and "only a distorting abstraction can block out . . . God's action as action that reacts, as action that lets itself be determined"(10).

Going further, Welker argues that "The creature's own activity . . . is embedded in the process of creation and participates in that process" (Ibid). For Welker, "in the classical creation texts" the "anxiety" of the "model" noted earlier (see the previous post) is replaced by an understanding where "repeatedly the creature's own differentiated activity is practically set parallel with God's creative action, without ceasing to be the creature's own activity." And as before, Welker finds this understanding in Genesis 1-2 (11, emphasis mine).

It is at this point that one runs into a temptation according to Welker which he calls "yes-but" (12). Essentially, the "yes-but" seeks "to rescue the conventional model of causation and production" by giving determinative priority to the "differentiated activity" of either the creature or God (11-2). What I really appreciate about Welker here is that he rejects "this false alternative into which the model of production and dependence has pressed us," arguing instead that one should affirm "the connectedness and cooperation of creator and that which is created" as well as the potential to "differentiate sufficiently God's activity and the particular activities of the creature" (12-3). This is a great example of a key aspect of Welker's thinking I discussed in the first post: his resistance to "a single form/theme," to massaging or "fixing" "discontinuities" (3). This is also evident in his concluding discussion of the "limits" in his examination of Genesis 1-2; in other words, there is more work to do, further "rich description[s]" to discover and outline (11, 20)!

Here I must also impose a limit, though an examination of Welker's attempt to address the above dynamic I ended with remains. My hope is that in this brief series you're motivated to check Welker out for yourself. My posts aren't able to capture all that he's up to, especially since my knowledge of his writing is still growing. Or, since I will be posting on him in the future, you could keep visiting DET!

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Friday, June 21, 2013

Dan Migliore on the Lord’s Supper and Economic Justice

Barth observes an important distinction between what he calls centrifugal and centripetal conceptions of the Christian life (in CD 4.3, I want to say that it’s in the neighborhood of page 575, but I can’t be bothered to walk across my office to check…). The former structures the Christian life as a matter of possession and accumulation of grace (salvation, blessings, spirituality, sense of one's "personal relationship with Jesus" being strong, etc.), whereas the latter structures it in terms of missionary witness. Generally speaking, churches that focus on the Supper as opposed to preaching tend toward a centrifugal rather than centripetal conception. This is not exclusively the case, however, and it is also not necessarily the case. What I like about this following paragraph from Migliore is how he lifts up the important role that the Supper can play in a centripetal conception. The political edge is nice, too…

Daniel L. Migliore, Faith Seeking Understanding, 294-5. Emphasis mine.
The Lord’s Supper is therefore also the sacrament of human participation in the divine life by sharing life with each other. As a public, open, joyful, hopeful meal, the Lord’s Supper is a foretaste of a new humanity. Christians cannot eat and drink at the table—where all are welcome and none goes hungry or thirsty—and continue to condone any form of discrimination or any social or economic policy that results in hunger or other forms of deprivation. The Lord’s Supper is the practice of “eucharistic hospitality,” in which strangers are welcomed into the household of God. Christians cannot share this bread and wine while refusing to share their daily bread and wine with the millions of hungry people around the world. There is an intrinsic connection between responsible participation in the Lord’s Supper and commitment to a fairer distribution of the goods of the earth to all its people.
When one remembers this (or makes the connection for the first time), one is rudely shoved toward the conclusion that thousands (tens of thousands? hundreds of thousands?) in the United States who consider themselves to be devoted Christians in fact "eateth and drinketh damnation" to themselves insofar as they fail to "discern" Christ's body. . . .

It never hurts to read 1 Corinthians 11.23-29 and Matthew 25.31-46 together.

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Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Peter Thompson on the Frankfurt School

I’ve said it before and I’m sure that I’ll said it again at some point, but – if you are not yet regularly reading Peter Thompson’s column in the Guardian, then you are intellectually impoverished. I’ve mentioned Thompson here at DET a number of times, both in link posts and in highlighting a series he did on Marx.

Lately I’ve been recommending that folk read Thompson’s series on the Frankfurt School. So I thought that I would index that material to make it easier for you to access. So, without further ado:

  1. The Frankfurt school, part 1: why did Anders Breivik fear them?
  2. The Frankfurt school, part 2: Negative dialectics
  3. The Frankfurt school, part 3: Dialectic of Enlightenment
  4. The Frankfurt school, part 4: Herbert Marcuse
  5. The Frankfurt school, part 5: Walter Benjamin, fascism and the future
  6. The Frankfurt school, part 6: Ernst Bloch and the Principle of Hope
  7. The Frankfurt school, part 7: what's left?
  8. The Frankfurt school, part 8: where do we go from here?
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Friday, June 14, 2013

"Creation and Reality": Creation and "the Model of Causation and Production"

In my last post I introduced Michael Welker's book Creation and Reality, noted his disdain for "abstraction" and "reduction," and said that I'd next demonstrate Welker's approach. Welker's first chapter, entitled "What is Creation? Rereading Genesis 1 and 2" serves as a good place to begin to do just that, because here he observes "misleading, distorting definitions of creation," "false abstractions," which he wants to "shake up." (6)

In chapter 1 Welker wants to shake up "the model of causation and dependence" (11). This model defines "Creation as an ultimate process of being produced by a transcendent reality and as absolute dependence," and is based on a very narrow reading of Genesis 1-2; according to Welker "God's creative action corresponds in only a few ways to the pattern of causation and production" (9). Moreover, and more importantly at this point, this model "has fortified and passed on a simple pattern of power," (7-8). It "connects images of production and of the exercise of power," and there's no avenue "behind" this "process of production" (8).

Thus according to this model one must accept "the absolute dependence of the creature on God" (9). This however raises problems, like "anxiety about the creature's own power" in Genesis 1-2 and in the doctrine of creation (11). Furthermore, given this model's "focus upon one-sided hierarchical arrangement and absolute dependence," concerns of feminist thinkers likely begin to appear at this point (13).[*]

Now if I've garnered much of an understanding of the audience here at DET, I'm sure that by now you're screaming (at least in your head), "go to Christology!" However, Welker does not address this by going to Christology, but rather by going back to Genesis 1-2. It is important to recall the previous post, perhaps this statement in particular; "it is necessary not to give up the christological, pneumatological, and other debates with classical theism but to supplement them in the area of the theology of creation" (2). Welker believes the doctrine of creation still has a major role to play, and as I argued in the previous post, Welker wants to move away from utilizing "a single theme" to solve all our theological ills (3). Of course this does not mean that Welker wants to downplay the role of Christ; rather, it means that Welker sees that texts like Genesis 1-2 have much more to them than this "model of causation and dependence." In the next post I will try to show what it is that Welker sees.

[*] While Welker doesn't explicitly mention it in this chapter (aside from possibly pgs. 14, 17), from other writings it seems fair to assume that he wants to argue against "hierarchical arrangement(s)" for at least some of the same reasons as feminist thinkers (see writings on and by Welker here and here).  I was stimulated to make this connection due to some recent discussions around the blogosphere and on twitter regarding Tony Jones.

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Wednesday, June 12, 2013

KBBC Book Update - Manuscript Submitted!

I'm sure that long-time DET readers will remember the Karl Barth Blog Conference of 2010. It was epic - three weeks of top-shelf interaction on different themes in Barth's thought put into conversation with other important thinkers and themes. And now the revised and expanded proceedings of that conference are one step closer to gracing your coffee table or bookshelf.

It has been a little over a year since the last update. But as those who follow the KBBC on Facebook know, I submitted the manuscript and related documents to the publisher on Monday. Now they will work their magic, what with typesetting and other production issues.

So, join me in waiting to see when this book will hit the booksellers' shelves! I'll be sure to pass the news on as soon as I know.

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Monday, June 10, 2013

The Inexhaustible Problem of Sola Scriptura - a guest post by Collin Cornell

[Ed. note: Collin Cornell writes the always interesting blog, Kaleidobible, which I have featured previously on link posts here at DET. He also writes semi-regular guest posts here at DET.]



Brevard Childs’ magisterial Biblical Theology kicks off with a quote from Gerhard Ebeling’s 1955 article, “The Meaning of Biblical Theology.” Childs – infamously cantankerous – lavishes rare praise on Ebeling’s article, calling it “a major contribution” and “a classic essay” because of its helpfulness in diagnosing the deep problems then rocking the discipline of biblical theology. Even beyond its analytical power, however, Childs commends it for its positive suggestions, “[making] a valuable start toward reconstituting the field [of biblical theology]” (7). In fact, Childs envisions his own project as an attempt to fulfill Ebeling’s proposal.

Childs didn't always smile on the so-called “New Hermeneutic” school of thought associated with Ebeling’s name. In his Biblical Theology in Crisis, Childs renders this judgment: “The fundamental esoteric quality of much of the discussion [concerning the New Hermeneutic] has made the possibility of any new consensus between Bible and theology highly unlikely” (102). Besides its uniquely German obscurity, Childs also anathematized Ebeling’s and Fuchs’ appeals to the “linguisticality of being” as a “form of positivity behind the text,” in contrast to approaches that take the canon per se as the context for biblical theology.

What then did Childs appreciate so much about this article? On Childs’ read, Ebeling accurately plumbed the dereliction of biblical theology: the untenability of proposals for theological unity between the testaments and, indeed, within each individual testament; the historical artificiality of separating out the canonical writings from their ancient cognates for special treatment; and the confusion over whether or not the contents of the Bible can rightly be called “theology” (rather than “religion”).

Childs also found Ebeling’s constructive suggestions helpful. According to Ebeling, biblical theology must not only be a historical and descriptive task, but a theological and normative one, “a modern theologian’s reflection on various aspects of the Bible.” Without turning back the clock on Enlightenment discoveries about the distinctiveness of each biblical testament and each scriptural unit, a fresh start in biblical theology would re-connect these, discerning “the inner unity [within] the manifold testimony.” Above all, Childs loved Ebeling’s use of the concept “witness” or “testimony” to describe the Bible. This metaphor positions the Bible not only as “a cultural expression of ancient peoples, but as a testimony pointing beyond itself to a divine reality to which it bears witness” (9). Each of these points remained near and dear to Childs’ whole enterprise.

Before re-reading Childs this spring, I had forgotten he made such a fuss over Ebeling. In fact, I read Ebeling’s essay for this first time this past summer, and heard in it a very different concern. Amongst other things, Ebeling revisits the history of the term “biblical theology,” and makes explicit that it is, at its roots, polemical: aimed against competing forms of theology (212). “Biblical theology,” in a word, brackets “theology proper.” Though the term “biblical theology” does not occur in Reformation writings, it depends on Luther’s attack on the authority of ecclesial tradition and scholastic theology. The catchphrase “Scripture alone” contains within itself the shudder of these mighty intellectual exclusions. The Pietists of a subsequent generation would marshal “biblical theology” against the stultifications of Protestant orthodoxy, and yet later, rationalist biblical critics (some of them Pietists) would extend and complicate this contrast. At all stages, “biblical theology” was polemical, exclusionary, and critical: a jealous younger sibling to the accumulated mass of churchly reflections on subjects of divinity. Ebeling points out the self-contradictions inherent to the discipline: at once emancipated from the tradition of systematic theology, yet covetous of its normative function; critical of the history of interpretation and disdainful towards verbal inspiration, yet parasitic on the theological importance accorded by theology proper to the Bible.

Ebeling does call in his article for a renewed cooperation between theological disciplines; Childs heard this loud and clear. Childs also, like Ebeling, does not set aside the body of critical biblical scholarship. However, the posture of the two scholars varies. Childs sees critical research as basic to contemporary interpretation, a non-negotiable if perhaps regrettable horizon. But Childs’ main energies went into reuniting biblical theology with theology proper, and contemporary exegesis with the resources of the Christian past, to overcome the modern quarantine on “pre-modern” readings. Ebeling on the other hand sees “the problem of theological method posed by the Reformation” as an enduring surd, an unanswered and, importantly, still productive question (224). For him, the contradiction of biblical theology is ongoing, even irresolvable: a discipline whose own inexorable logic of abstracting the Bible from its tradition ultimately leaves the Bible as a privileged text vulnerable and unjustifiable. But for all that self-refuting history of the concept, Ebeling understands the exclusionary starting point – the Reformation sola – more optimistically.

In an era of biblical interpretation awash in the influence of Childs, and in a field enamored with the history of reception, I fear that increasingly fewer people are able defend the theological productivity of critical, historical methods, i.e., the characteristically Protestant “bracketing” of churchly readings ingredient in “biblical theology” is viewed as misguided or passé. I understand and sympathize with much that informs this intellectual moment. But still my own confidence is that Ebeling’s essay, quite beyond Childs’ treatment of it, highlights a dynamic that still deserves appreciation and exploration: namely, the unfulfilled and inexhaustible invitation of sola scriptura.

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Saturday, June 08, 2013

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

…or, Something to keep you busy over the weekend…

…or, The Past Fortnight in the Theoblogosphere.

Ok, so it’s been more like a month since the last installment. The primary reason for that period of blog silence we had in May was - as I noted - that my semester was ending and the task of getting final grades together and helping to graduate a bunch of students (not to mention the year’s end bureaucratic crunch) kept me pretty busy for a while there.

In any case, we’re back to full steam here at DET, and there’s been a decent bit of action since the last link post, and it is all worth checking out if you haven’t done so yet. Here are the links:


“But wait!” – I hear you plead – “What if I’m all caught up on my DET reading? In fact, I’ve read each of those posts multiple times. What else should I read?”

I’m glad you asked! Because I have a huge collection of links for you. Here they are:


Enjoy! Until next time . . .


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Thursday, June 06, 2013

A Funeral Sermon

My grandfather, George William Schafer, died this past February, and his funeral followed soon after. My mother asked me to preach a sermon that witnessed to the faith of her father. So I did. It was the first time I had preached a family funeral. A large section of my family doesn’t attend Church, and some, like my brother, are avowed atheists. In my message I tried to capture the essence of the Christian faith in the face of death. The writings of Tom Long and Karl Barth are in the background of this homily. The text I preached on was 1 Corinthians 15:1-8,12-19, 51-58. The reactions were varied, the majority of serious feedback was positive. My mother and grandmother cried, my atheist brother said it made him feel uncomfortable, and my youngest brother told me that my sermon said what everybody already knew, but needed to hear again. I hope that my words were an honorable testimony to the life, death, and promised resurrection of my grandfather, George William Schafer.



My grandfather was a Christian until the day he died. Born into the Church, he made the choice to become a Christian and serve his Lord. He did not live a perfect nor spotless life, but to be a Christian one has to accept that we aren't perfect, that we will and do mess up, but that the Good News is that Jesus won't abandon us because of our screw-ups. My grandfather was a man saved, and he lived in a total state of thanksgiving of this reality. And now he has died. And now we grieve. But for him, as it is for all people who are in Christ, this isn't the end of the story.

In the passage read from 1 Corinthians moments ago, we hear the central declaration of the Christian faith. Jesus of Nazareth, carpenter and man of the soil, was murdered. But his murder, his violent killing wasn't the end of his story. God raised Jesus from the dead, and Jesus appeared to many. And because God raised Jesus from the dead, he is what Paul calls the First Fruits of the resurrection. The fact that there is a First Fruit of the resurrection implies that, you know, there will be a second. And that is what Christians hold as the General resurrection, what the Apostles Creed calls The Resurrection of the Body.

And this is all well to do. I'm telling this story, and I'm being real, but there is someone in this room with a louder, and perhaps more persuasive story/voice. Death stares us in the face at all funerals, all memorial services, although sometimes he goes unacknowledged. But we know he's there. Death is what killed my grandfather. For the Christian, there is a distinction that sometimes gets lost. There is biological death, which is sometimes a sweet mercy, that frees folks suffering from their pain. But then there is Death, capitol D death, our enemy who is an ever pervasive reality who laughs in our face, steals our loved ones away from us, and who claims, loudly that he is the last word, that he has the last laugh. I've won, death silently screams, and look upon me and despair. This is what will happen to you. And there is nothing you can do about it.

In the midst of this silence, the church offers its testimony.

Christians accept death. They accept that yes, we will die, that this battle will be won by Death. But we know the Truth. We know that Death doesn't have the last laugh. Because of Jesus and his resurrection, we know that this battle may belong to death, but the war has already been won by God. My grandfather is dead. He is well and truly gone, but that doesn't mean he is lost, that he still doesn't have hope. The eternal life that Christianity promises, that Jesus' resurrection points to, isn't some after life insurance policy. It isn't, "I'll protect you from death, you will never truly die." God did not spare his own Son, Jesus Christ, from death. Jesus died. We die. The Hope of the Christian is the truth that even in Death, Jesus will never let us go. God is with us. This is the promise that the Resurrection makes real. Jesus will always hold onto us, grab us close, and envelop us in his love. My grandfather knew this. My grandfather now experiences this. The story isn't over. Love wins, even in the face of Death. And Death shall be destroyed.

So the trumpet will sound, and we shall be changed. The trumpet will sound, and we will be transformed. The trumpet will sound and the dead will be raised and we will be with God and God will be with us. God raised Jesus from the dead. We shall know life, and know life eternally because of this Jesus. The truth that the Christian faith pivots on is that in this Jesus, in his resurrection, Death has lost. We say with confidence in the face of our enemy that Death, you have lost. We will ask, Death where is your victory? Where is your sting? We declare to you, Death, you who are in this room that you do not have the last word. Jesus is the victory, and this victory is ours because of who Jesus is. God has given us the victory.

So we bury George William Schafer. We bury him with sadness in our hearts, but in the hope of Christ. Burial isn't the end of his story. Resurrection is. And my grandfather, who finds himself now in the arms of Jesus, shall be raised. It is in this truth, and in this hope, that we offer Thanksgiving to God. Thank you for this life, and thank you for never letting him go. Not even in Death.

So let us all now rise, and in the spirit of Thanksgiving of a life well lived in Christ, let us recite together the Apostles Creed.

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Tuesday, June 04, 2013

My Most Recent Publication: “The Sign of the Gospel: Toward an Evangelical Doctrine of Infant Baptism after Karl Barth”

This is the big one, folks. Devoted readers will be aware that I defended my doctoral dissertation back in December of 2011. Shortly thereafter I posted the dissertation’s abstract as a way to let folk in on the work.

It has been a considerable process since then, replete with multiple trips through the ms for editing purposes, creating an index, expanding various points, etc. But now the end is in view. And in approximately two months, gentle readers, the work can be in your hands.

The good folks at Fortress offered me a contract as part of their (thus far very successful) attempt to revitalize their catalog with an influx of constructive theological scholarship. Specifically, Mike Gibson was instrumental here. So many thanks to him and to all the others who have been part of the process.

In any case, I invite you to surf over and pre-order the book, so that you can be sure to be among the first to read what will no doubt be a breathtakingly deep and original work (*coughs).

W. Travis McMaken, The Sign of the Gospel: Toward an Evangelical Doctrine of Infant Baptism after Karl Barth (Fortress Academic, 2013)

And, yes, you can expect quite a few more posts about this in the coming months... What's the point of having a blog if you can't engage in some shameless self-promotion?

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Saturday, June 01, 2013

June Book o' the Month - Michael Welker's “Creation and Reality”

Over the past several months I have been reading Michael Welker, professor at the University of Heidelberg. I’ve become enamored to the point of being confident that he will be one of my "comp and dissertation theologians," so I’m excited to introduce him to the DET audience with his book Creation and Reality. In this first post I want to limit myself to a couple introductory remarks about Welker’s project that are also articulated in the introduction to this book.



In Creation and Reality, Welker appears to see himself within the continuing quest to do theology after “the collapse of classical bourgeois theism,” yet he argues that “it is necessary not to give up the christological, pneumatological, and other debates with classical theism but to supplement them in the area of the theology of creation" (1-2). Welker believes that the doctrine of creation still has a major role to play in theology after the collapse in creating “a pre- or post-theistic understanding of God’s creative power and of the creation intended by God" (2).

To do so Welker employs a kind of “Biblical Theology…developing in interdisciplinary and interconfessional collaboration since the 1980s, particularly in Germany and North America" (2-3). He immediately goes on to describe this biblical theology, and given my other reading of Welker, it seems important to quote this description at length:
These approaches depart from all earlier attempts to take a single form—for example, personalism, existentialism, social criticism—or a single theme—for example, reconciliation, covenant, reign of God, God’s glory—and to highlight it as the form or the content of the biblical traditions, or to read it into those traditions. Instead these approaches are consciously pluralistic. They take seriously the diverse biblical traditions with their different situations in life, with the continuities and discontinuities in their experiences and expectations of God, since those experiences and expectation are sometimes compatible with each other and sometimes not directly so. (3)

Part of the reason Welker is “interested in these differences” is because “Precisely those tensions between relative commonalities and relative differences in the expectations and experiences of God in the different biblical traditions are essential to theological self-criticism” (4). The upshot of all this (as I've observed and gleaned from here, here, here, and here, in addition to Creation and Reality) is that some traditional “problems” with the bible are turned into strengths (ibid), and throughout much of his writing Welker wants to stress that problems with how we read the bible or do theology occur when we employ “abstraction,” “reduction,” or "common sense" to handle these tensions (see pp. 3-4 and ch. 1). For Welker tensions and discontinuities aren't problems, they're "tools of the trade."

Hopefully this sets the stage for a coming post where I will examine Welker's reading of Genesis 1-2, where one can see some of how Welker's approach actually fleshes out.

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