Prelude to Practical Theology
Variations on Theory and PracticeBy Jeanne Stevenson-MoessnerAbingdon Press
Copyright © 2008 The United Methodist Publishing House
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-0-687-64729-3Chapter One
Warming Up: Practical Theology-in-relationship
Introduction
An orchestra consists of musicians in relationship. This connectedness results in sonatas, concertos, symphonies, and requiems that are distinct from a solo performance. Theology is the music of religious inquiry. Theology is also the formal study of faith, doctrine, history, religious education, sacred texts, and spirituality. Theologians, like musicians, are given the opportunity to create beyond the formal disciplines in which they have been trained. In community, they create a religious rhythm that can be organically and structurally related to others in ministry, in theological investigation, in academic research.
This book will look at one discipline, or area, of theology: practical theology. Instead of regarding practical theology as a "soloist" or "guest musician," this book will consider how practical theology plays in concert with other disciplines or areas in theology. As the discussion "warms up," Stanza One presents practical theology-in-relationship to other theological disciplines using an image that I found in the early works of German theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher. It is an organic image that has much potential for theology. Unfortunately, Schleiermacher discarded the image after it was severely criticized. He failed to underscore the circular and revitalizing movement among the areas of theological inquiry that he aptly depicted in his "scandalous" model. The model that occasioned such a strong reaction was that of a tree:
The vertical thrust of the tree, of course, placed practical theology at the top as the crown, or highest part, of the structure. The "scandal" of this image grew out of the hierarchical interpretation of the tree analogy in which the sap or "living substance of reflection" flowed only upward, from the roots to the crown. Contemporary theologians have noted other examples of Schleiermacher's "hierarchical thinking." I do not know whether Schleiermacher intended such an inference of superiority with his positioning of practical theology at the top of the tree. I do know that the "hierarchical representation" of the crown as the highest point of theological reflection neglected both the equality and mutuality of all three parts of the tree as well as the circular pattern of movement among the various parts, including the earth. The branches, the foliage, the fruits, the leaves, and the flowers all continue to fall and to flow to the ground to replenish the soil from which the roots and trunk grow. Leonardo Boff, in Cry of the Earth, Cry of the Poor, has stated the cycle of enrichment in a similar but unique way: "The forest remains lush because the chain of nutrients is closed. Materials are decomposing on the soil, its covering, which is composed of leaves, fruits, small roots, and animal excrement. These things are enriched by the water dripping from the leaves and running off the trunks. It is not the soil that nourishes the leaves, but rather the trees that nourish the soil."
Thus, "the crown" can be interpreted nonhierarchically as the upper extremity that is connected organically to the whole. In the following pages, I will reclaim and recycle this organic image of the tree because of the unexplored possibilities it has yet to offer.
Background
In 1946, while theologian Karl Barth was spending the summer semester at the University of Bonn, he found in the rubble and ruins of war a bust of theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher. In some ways, it may seem that I am doing the same in this book—lifting an old image of Schleiermacher's writings out of the remains of theological forays. These contemporary forays or discussions often delve into the much-discussed "clerical paradigm" attributed to Schleiermacher. The "clerical paradigm" grew out of a German context in the nineteenth century that envisioned the pastor or cleric as the "product" of the five-year, rigorous course of theological study. This, a controversial assessment, will be explored later in this chapter.
Authors such as Keith Clements suggest that feminist theology, with its emphasis on interconnectedness, could well offer additional insights on the images offered by Friedrich Schleiermacher. This suggestion follows mention of the startling admission that Schleiermacher made to Charlotte von Kathen: "If ever I find myself sportively indulging in an impossible wish, it is, that I were a woman." According to one editor of his works, "this confession has provoked wry smiles or raised eyebrows from later commentators who are inclined to commend Schleiermacher to a psychiatrist without further ado." Nevertheless, as a feminist theologian interested in healthy interdependency, I have chosen to delve into this discarded image, that is, Schleiermacher's tree of theology, an image critiqued by others and that he later discarded in the second edition of the Brief Outline of the Study of Theology (Kurze Darstellung des theologischen Studiums).
In this chapter, I am assuming, first, that there is something that beckons persons into connectedness. Every embryo begins in relationship in utero. After birth, infants thrive on the beam or gleam in the eyes of the beholders and caretakers. As normal development moves into self-differentiation, there is a concurrent need for healthy relationship to others. Second, I am working on the additional assumption that, underlying our endeavors of self-differentiation in denominations, disciplines, and guilds, we are created to be organically related to others in ministry and theology. By organically, I mean more than having systemic coordination as a conductor would coordinate or assemble an orchestra. Organic is, according to Webster's, "possessed of complex structure comparable to that of living beings." This concept is not so far removed from the Hebrew Bible's portrayal of creation through narratives that portray people as descendants of Adam and Eve. We are the family of humankind or the family of faith. Third, I am assuming that practical theology is an interdisciplinary enterprise and as such, is also interrelated with other theological disciplines.
With these assumptions, I have been drawn to reconsider Schleiermacher's image of the organic unity of the theological disciplines in his Brief Outline of 1811, the image of the "tree" of theology. Finding an original copy of the Brief Outline of 1811 (Kurze Darstellung des theologischen Studiums zum Behuf einleitender Vorlesungen, [Berlin, 1811]) in Tuebingen, Germany, I reexamined this image. Such a sense of organic unity is not to be taken for granted in theological education. Without such an articulation of the interplay and interdependence among the disciplines, what theological institutions like seminaries and divinity schools offer will be at best a creative collection and combination of courses.
Schleiermacher reorganized the theological disciplines into three areas of inquiry: philosophical theology, historical theology, and practical theology. Philosophical theology dealt with the essence, the concepts, the first principles, the "Idea" of Christianity. Thus, Schleiermacher in 1811 wrote: "Philosophical theology is the root of all theology." Thus, the description of the "root" of theology is given. Historical theology, which included biblical studies, church history, dogmatic or systematic theology, and church statistics, was an inquiry into the Christian faith community, past and present. "Historical theology is essentially the trunk of theological study and encompasses in its own way the other two parts within itself." Thus, the picture of the body, or trunk, is given to the paradigm. In addition, historical theology includes in its own way both philosophical and practical theology. Practical theology, accordingly, is "the crown of theological study." From these depictions of roots, trunk or body, and crown came the image of the tree, a living organism, illustrative of the organic unity of the three areas of theological inquiry.
Schleiermacher anticipated that the attack on this image would come from his placement of practical theology as the crown. After all, practical theology as a theological science had come under suspicion since G. J. Planck had relegated it to the appendix of his popular encyclopedia in 1795. However, the main attack on his image came from its vertical construct: "the image of a tree implies that the sap, the living substance of reflection, moves from the roots through the trunk to the crown, but never in the other direction." What was missed, of course, in this analysis was the circular movement, from living water in the earth, to sap in the tree, to fruition and flowering among the branches, to the shedding of foliage to replenish the soil. It is the old argument of who is the greatest in the kingdom, who may sit at the right hand. However, we too easily forget the organic unity, the attempt to see the areas of theological inquiry as interdependent, once the image is discarded. Perhaps, we do not see the theological disciplines divided in the threefold way Schleiermacher constructed. Perhaps, there are other criticisms to engage with his image of the organic unity of the disciplines. Perhaps, as a practical theologian, I like Schleiermacher's image because it offers my discipline a way to be vitally related to the other disciplines from whom my fellows and I often feel severed. Using Schleiermacher's image, practical theology bears fruit, offers shade for sojourners, provides a nesting place for wayfarers, and connects its branches to other trees as in the Black Forest near Tuebingen, Germany. Perhaps, you, like me, will like an image such as this because it appeals to the part of you that expresses itself in images, metaphors, pictures, and symbols. Without some way to articulate our interconnectedness among theological disciplines, what we offer will only be a collection of materials and resources—like piles of hardwood, firewood, pine, or timber—to be constructed and reconstructed as needed.
The Schleiermacheian "clerical paradigm" lures us to look again. In a European environment the theological disciplines can be divided today as follows: biblical studies, dogmatics or systematics, church history, and practical theology. Just as law schools train men and women to exit as lawyers, so theological schools train men and women to function as pastors—and to reflect as theologians. Thus, the much-critiqued "clerical paradigm" in the Schleiermacheian tradition created and creates pastor theologians who enter the parish after five years of theological study (the Lizentiat), which involves an examination after two years of study (Zwischenexam) and a state exam after the entire five years of study (Staatsexam). Preceding this theological training a European has thirteen years of rigorous high school (Gymnasium); only the top students enter high school to begin with, as some less-serious students are channeled into trade schools. Thus, the theological student has had previous exposure to not only the classical disciplines in Gymnasium but also numerous languages, including Latin. The five-year course of theological study includes a mandatory intern year (Vikariat). When I hear the "clerical paradigm" under attack for turning out clerics, I must remind myself how well-trained the average European pastor is for theological reflection. They have not simply acquired ministerial skills and techniques for their ministry. Quite the contrary, the European pastor has been described as Mann des Nachdenkens, or as a theologian, concerned with content and proclamation. The American pastor has been described as a pragmatician, Mann der Tat. According to one Dutch theologian, Heije Faber, the emphasis on ministry is different. When you ask an American pastor to show you "the church," he or she will show not only the pulpit but also the kitchen, Sunday school rooms, fellowship hall, activity building or family life center, lounge, and so on. In Europe, when asked to conduct a tour the church, a pastor will show the sanctuary with pulpit, that is, the place of worship. Thus, the emphasis is on teaching and proclamation. The European divinity student graduates from five years of training with a "clericalism" that is profoundly reflective and integrated with all four classical areas in theology.
A Case in Point
From a feminist and womanist perspective, practical theology is seen as a discipline-in-relationship. A case study out of a subdiscipline, pastoral theology, illustrates the type of interplay among areas of theological inquiry that creates critical interaction.
One of the founders of the Clinical Pastoral Education movement, H. Flanders Dunbar, in her article "Mental Hygiene and Religious Training," documented a case study of a young man named James Roe, whose image of God contributed to an emotional breakdown. Dunbar, a Yale-trained M.D. with a Ph.D. in comparative literature from Columbia University and a B.D. from Union Theological Seminary, with additional work under Anton Boisen, Helene Deutsch, and Carl Gustav Jung, was well trained to detect the relationship between mental health and religious teachings. In her case study of James Roe, she particularly focused on a suffering God as a model for development. Young James was an obedient, passive, only child. At age seven, he lost his father and devoted himself to being good for the sake of his widowed mother who, he thought, had suffered enough in her loss. James's pastor encouraged all these behaviors in the dutiful child. At age fourteen, due to financial misfortunes, he had to support the mother and abandon his plans for education. "The pastor, his constant friend and adviser, talked to him about the discipline of the Cross, and the Christian character that is gained through disappointment." Because of his gentle ways, James became a laughingstock among his peers. At these times, he identified with Christ, the mocked one. James lost one job after another and faced God and the memory of his father with a sense of failure. The pastor continued to speak to him of Christ. Sometime later, in the mental hospital, James told the superintendent that he, James, was Christ.
In this case of James Roe, H. Flanders Dunbar documents the damaging effect of an overarching portrayal of the God of the New Testament as a suffering God. Dunbar challenged teachers of religion to use dynamic symbolism. "Dynamic symbolism points to the infinite and incomprehensible; the use of multiple symbols can prevent an overbearing focus on or concretization of any one of them."
Using the case of James Roe as a springboard to interdisciplinary conversation, I would ask these questions: How do our images of God impact pastoral theology? How do the doctrines of suffering, sin, grace, and atonement play themselves out in this case? What exactly is the New Testament understanding of suffering? For that matter, what was the Hebrew Bible's understanding of suffering as it affected the faithful? Is there no greater love than this, that a man lay down his life for his mother? What is the discipline of the cross? What is Christian character? What are the ethical issues in this case? How would you critique the pastor's role in the life of James Roe? What is the history of pastoral care in the church? Is this case a period piece? If so, what is pastoral care in our moment of history? From a developmental perspective, did James even have a (sense of) self to sacrifice?
The questions engaged by this case study out of the annals and archives of pastoral theology demonstrate the potential interconnectedness and organic unity among all the modern theological areas: New Testament, Old Testament, systematic theology, church history, and practical theology. This case activates questions in each discipline. For the practical theologian, the case study helps concretize this interdisciplinary communication.
From the viewpoint of a feminist theologian, practical theology-inrelationship to other theological disciplines is a vital concern. The issue has some parallels to a depiction of the individual as a "self-in-relation." This theory posits that we as individuals all begin in-relationship before birth. Much contemporary research out of the Stone Center in Wellesley, Massachusetts, reorganizes developmental theory around this relational context of the person.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Prelude to Practical Theologyby Jeanne Stevenson-Moessner Copyright © 2008 by The United Methodist Publishing House. Excerpted by permission of Abingdon Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
