Luther On Being a Theologian II
August 10, 2010
The first thing that makes a theologian, according to Luther, is the grace of the Spirit. This is the foundation on which all else rests, as it is this which defines the theologian as a human being. I noted yesterday that, for Luther, theology is personal action, the response human beings to the words that God has already spoken in addressing them. And those words of God actually define who human beings are: those whom God speaks into existence and addresses with his words.
Luther stood at the end of a developing medieval theological tradition which had slowly but surely eroded the idea that reality was primarily defined by substances (the innate `whatness' that things had, in and of themselves) in favour of the idea that reality was really constituted by words, primarily the words of God. For Luther, things are what God says they are, the obvious application of this being justification: the righteous man is not the one whose substance has been made righteous, but the one whom God has declared to be righteous. In speaking that word, God determined the reality. In speaking that word, God revealed himself as having priority, being sovereign, and showing grace.
The theologian, then, is one whose identity is determined by the grace of God: God's sovereign declaration that he or she is who God says they are; and that word comes from outside, is spoken by God and applied by the Spirit.
So who then is a theologian? One who understands his or her God-declared identity as a creature of the creator, as a fallen sinner, and as one righteous only in Christ. This is fundamental to all that follows, for it situates the theologian in the world, it determines the nature and foundation of the theological task, the means for carrying out the task, and the end of the task.
For Luther, then, theology can never be `other worldly' for the theologian is nothing if not a creature. It can never be abstract, because it deals with God's defining address to his creatures. It can never be less than human because it deals with human beings precisely as human beings, with all of their joys, sorrows, despair, surprise and disappointment, a point made in the Bible itself in the extraordinary richness of the Psalms. But while experiential in this sense, it also can never be reduced to pure subjectivity because the experiences of the Christian are always experiences of the word, the word that comes from outside, and not merely the internal psychological pathologies of individual or community.
Perhaps one might capture the essence of what it means to be a theologian for Luther in saying that it is the personal discovery of finding God hanging on the cross, his grace and mercy revealed under the dirt and brokenness of Christ's humanity -- something, from a human perspective, completely unexpected and thus joyous beyond comprehension.
Luther stood at the end of a developing medieval theological tradition which had slowly but surely eroded the idea that reality was primarily defined by substances (the innate `whatness' that things had, in and of themselves) in favour of the idea that reality was really constituted by words, primarily the words of God. For Luther, things are what God says they are, the obvious application of this being justification: the righteous man is not the one whose substance has been made righteous, but the one whom God has declared to be righteous. In speaking that word, God determined the reality. In speaking that word, God revealed himself as having priority, being sovereign, and showing grace.
The theologian, then, is one whose identity is determined by the grace of God: God's sovereign declaration that he or she is who God says they are; and that word comes from outside, is spoken by God and applied by the Spirit.
So who then is a theologian? One who understands his or her God-declared identity as a creature of the creator, as a fallen sinner, and as one righteous only in Christ. This is fundamental to all that follows, for it situates the theologian in the world, it determines the nature and foundation of the theological task, the means for carrying out the task, and the end of the task.
For Luther, then, theology can never be `other worldly' for the theologian is nothing if not a creature. It can never be abstract, because it deals with God's defining address to his creatures. It can never be less than human because it deals with human beings precisely as human beings, with all of their joys, sorrows, despair, surprise and disappointment, a point made in the Bible itself in the extraordinary richness of the Psalms. But while experiential in this sense, it also can never be reduced to pure subjectivity because the experiences of the Christian are always experiences of the word, the word that comes from outside, and not merely the internal psychological pathologies of individual or community.
Perhaps one might capture the essence of what it means to be a theologian for Luther in saying that it is the personal discovery of finding God hanging on the cross, his grace and mercy revealed under the dirt and brokenness of Christ's humanity -- something, from a human perspective, completely unexpected and thus joyous beyond comprehension.
