When I was in seminary, I spent a lot of time reading Lutheran theologian Robert Jenson. I was entranced by the way Jenson engaged the Christian tradition. As someone who became Anglican largely through reading the Church Fathers, mostly Augustine, I believed the theological job of the Church was to listen to the theology of the past and to learn from it. I believed we were meant to join the great conversation of Christian theology. Jenson was comfortable being a part of the great conversation. In fact, what was startling about Jenson was just how comfortable he was; he disagreed, he set aside theological convictions I thought of as being undeniable, he took theological maxims and reworked them to mean something different, he contributed his own voice. For Jenson, it was a conversation in which he was allowed to speak.
He never, in my estimation, left theological orthodoxy. He was always firmly in the bounds of the conversation, but many would disagree. And at the very least, Jenson has controversial opinions and often admitted to taking the minority line of the tradition. When I entered ministry as a priest, this led to an interesting dilemma: As someone enamored with Jenson’s theology, to what extent do I use it in the parish? To what extent do I present his more controversial ideas? Of course, these questions are bigger than just Jenson. It could be asked in a more general sense: To what extent do I use any theologian in the parish? I believe I know how Jenson would answer these questions. He would say, “You use my theology (or anyone’s theology) to the extent that it communicates the gospel.”
In his Systematic Theology, Vol. I, Jenson defines theology as thinking about how to speak the gospel. Or to put it differently, theology asks, “What do we need to be saying to be saying the gospel?” This definition makes theology both an act of reception and an act of proclamation. Theology asks, “Given what we have received as the gospel, how do we now speak it?” The assumption behind this way of thinking about theology is that an act of critical thinking is needed to speak what you have received. The gospel can’t simply be repeated because it is always being preached in new contexts to new people.
In the context of pastoral ministry, one must ask, “How do I effectively communicate the gospel to this person?” If Jenson’s definition of theology is correct, then when pastors ask that question they are doing theology. They are engaging in the task of reflecting on the gospel they have received and working out how to speak it. This means that theology is a tool for speaking the gospel.
When I need to communicate the reality of prayer to parishioners, I use Jenson’s theology that describes prayer as participation in the triune life of God. I tell them that God responding to prayer is not to be read as deficiency, but as Jenson puts it, “a divine perfection.” In other words, the belief of classical theism that a “change” in God would signal something less than God is misguided; God’s perfection is shown by his ability to change in his mind and remain who he is.
When parishioners come to me with existential crises or questions about faith and doubt, or issues of predestination, or feeling as if they can’t have assurance of salvation, I use Martin Luther’s theology. I talk to them about how the grace of God comes to us through external means: baptism and Eucharist. God gives us a word of promise in these sacraments and draws us out of ourselves so the object of our trust is Jesus.
When people ask questions about grace and free will, I always reach for Augustine. I use ideas from his anti-Pelagian writings to explain how grace makes sinners free by pouring the love of God into their hearts so they can become the sort of persons who desire God and therefore make the correct choices. I talk about how grace heals our wills.
I have often used the classical doctrine of impassibility to express to parishioners that God cannot be affected or impugned by evil. Here I draw from David Bentley Hart’s wonderful article “Impassibility as Love.” God is such perfect and free love that evil or sin can’t even become part of the equation. I often use this language to explain why sin, evil, and death are defeated by the cross of Christ.
To describe God’s oneness, I often use Katherine Sonderegger’s theology—in particular, the way she describes God’s oneness as his absolute uniqueness. God has no form. He is not a thing in the world. He is not a thing at all. And as the absolutely unique God, he demands our obedience.
The examples could go on, but I hope this illustrates what I mean. Someone familiar with these theologians may be uncomfortable. By using Jenson, Hart, Luther, Augustine, and Sonderegger in these ways, I give my parishioners competing theological narratives. In some cases, I give them completely contradictory ideas. At times I utilize classical theism, other times some kind of revisionary view of God. At times I utilize a deeply Protestant external perspective on grace, and other times a more Catholic understanding of grace as something inward and infused. I do this because I have discerned in the moment that this is what I need to be saying to be saying the gospel. This is what I need to be saying to help the gospel provide comfort. This is what I need to be saying to help explain a passage of Scripture.
Others may be uncomfortable because I have instrumentalized theology. Isn’t theology all about the knowledge of God? Don’t we pursue that for its own sake? Absolutely. I would never want to deny that. But I don’t know what to say other than theology is inevitably instrumentalized in the task of proclaiming the gospel.
And finally, one could be uncomfortable because this idea requires you to almost hold your theological views at arm’s length, to be critical of them. It means you can’t try to communicate a theological vision that is purely Anglo-Catholic, or Lutheran, or Evangelical, or whatever. To which I say amen. Pastors use theology to communicate the gospel. If the theological shoe fits, wear it.
The Rev. Tyler Been serves as the curate at Episcopal Church of the Holy Cross in the Episcopal Diocese of Dallas. Tyler is married to Laken and they have two children, Margaret and Julian.
