Can Good Theology Change the World? Part 3: Embodied Theology by Carol P. Christ

carol p. christ photo michael bakasIn an earlier blog I asserted that one of the hallmarks of good theology is understanding that the only valid source of authority is to be found in individuals and communities that continually interpret and reinterpret texts and traditions in new situations.

For most of its two thousand year history, Christian theology was understood to involve rational reflection on revealed truths. It was assumed that revealed truths found in the Bible, the decisions of church councils, and church traditions are a fixed set of facts (such as the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ) and doctrines (such as the Trinity) that are eternally true. It was further thought that the theologian is able to rise above his body and history in order to contemplate these eternal truths. Thus, it was said, theology considers eternal truths from an objective and essentially unchanging vantage point.

For the past several hundred years, theologians have begun to realize that both of these traditional assertions are false. There is increasing recognition that the Bible can no longer be understood as having been dictated by God. Instead, revelation (if it exists at) comes through the minds and bodies and experiences and histories of those who write the sacred texts and doctrinal statements. Revelation can only be expressed in the language or languages known to the individual or group who receive it, and experiences and ideas will inevitably be conveyed using symbols and metaphors taken from a wider cultures.

As “the process of interpretation” is acknowledged, it is also understood that theologians can never reflect on eternal truths in any simple way. They must consider the circumstances in which facts and doctrines are received and written down. Some seek to remove the wheat from the chaff, hoping to discover a kernel of eternal truth encased in language and symbols that are relative. Thus, for example, it has become commonplace for liberal theologians to say that the kernel of truth in Genesis 1 is that God created the world, while the story that He created it in 6 days is not literally true.

While non-fundamentalist theologians generally understand that the process of interpretation of revealed truths is complex, they have been less eager to turn a critical eye on the standpoints from which they carry out the process of interpretation themselves. Many theologians recognize the relativity of all standpoints in principle, yet do not hesitate to assert that they have found “the true” meaning of a particular text or tradition. Rosemary Radford Ruether believes that her reading of the Bible from a liberation perspective is more true to the original meaning of the texts than alternative readings. Elizabeth Schussler Fiorenza, in contrast, always qualifies her readings, stating that what she asserts about the early Jesus tradition is true from the perspective of “wo/men seeking liberation.”

Schussler Fiorenza’s position is rooted in “standpoint theory,” which argues that every interpretation of a text or tradition is influenced by the standpoint of the interpreter. Taking standpoint theory seriously means that we cannot make statements like “the message of Jesus was concern for the poor” without adding that this interpretation is made “from a liberation perspective.” This qualification makes a lot of people—and not only fundamentalists—uncomfortable, because it means that all so-called “truths” are in fact relative to those who assert them.

It is not surprising that those whose voices are relatively new to the theological conversation are more likely to acknowledge their standpoints than those writing from traditional white male European perspectives. Many white male theologians continue to believe that they are writing “theology,” while theologians of color and female theologians of all colors are writing from particular perspectives. When theologies are acknowledged to be perspectival, more often than not, the perspective is a general one, such as “black,” “Asian,” “African,” “feminist,”  “womanist,” or “queer.” But even standpoint thinking can fail to be inclusive. A ground-breaking book on black women’s studies pointed out that All of the Women Are White, All of the Blacks Are Men, But Some of Us Are Brave. By the same token, some have wondered why all of the feminist theologians (who are invited to contribute to books and conferences) are Christian. And so on.

In our new book Goddess and God in the World, Judith Plaskow and I reconsider the question of standpoint in theology. We have been engaged in a theological argument about the nature of divinity that we could not resolve through rational argument for a number of years. We have discussed the general differences in our standpoints as reasons for our differences. Both of our theologies are “feminist” and both of us are “white.” As white and feminist, our theologies have certain commonalities, yet they also diverge.

My view that divinity is a loving and personal but not omnipotent is based in Goddess Spirituality, yet it is virtually identical with the views of Christian process theologians such as John Cobb and Monica Coleman and Jewish process theologians like Bradley Shavit Artson. Judith’s view that divinity is an impersonal creative power that is the ground of both good and evil is as likely to be shared with Neo-Pagans as with other Jews. Thus, we found that it would not do simply to further locate Judith’s position as “Jewish feminist” and mine as “Goddess feminist.”

We discovered that the ways in which our theological viewpoints are rooted in our experiences cannot be explained through a simple application of standpoint theory. Thus, we took the radical step of combining autobiography and theology in our new book, Goddess and God in the World, exemplifying a new method we call “embodied theology.” Embodied theology is rooted in personal experiences in our individual bodies. At the same time, we all live in a relational world, shaped by social and historical events and forces that are shared. The relationship between theologies and experiences is embedded in complex webs, with the precise factors that lead to the differences in view being impossible to untangle from the whole.

Still, we found that theological views can be judged by criteria that are in the broadest sense rational and moral: do they make sense of the world we share; and do they promote the flourishing of the world? Though different experiences may lead to different views of divinity, we can enter into conversation with each other about them, based on criteria that are shared. In the process of debating our views, Judith and I concluded that both of our views make sense of the world we share (though we each remain committed to our own view) and that both promote the flourishing of the world. At the same time we agree that other views such as the notion that divinity is exclusively male, or omnipotent and totally transcendent of the world, not only make less sense of our shared experience, but also hinder and obstruct the flourishing of the world.

At the end of our book, we invite others to join with us in a fully embodied theological dialogue that heretofore has been unimaginable, unthinkable, unspeakable. In an embodied theological discussion, we will be able to identify relatively more and less adequate theologies, but we will not be able to prove the truth of particular views.

Also see: Part 1 and Part 2.

This is discussed further in the newly published Goddess and God in the World: Conversations in Embodied Theology by Carol P. Christ and Judith Plaskow–order now. Ask for a review copy (for blog or print) or exam or desk copy. Please post a review on Amazon.  Share with your friends on social media using the links below.

Listen to Judith and Carol’s first interview on the book on Northern Spirit Radio.

Carol P. Christ leads the Goddess Pilgrimage to Crete. Space is available on the fall tour October 1-15. Join now and save $150. With Judith Plaskow, she is co-editor of Womanspirit Rising and Weaving the Visions. Carol wrote the first Goddess feminist theology, Rebirth of the Goddess and the process feminist theology, She Who Changes.

 

Can Good Theology Change the World? Part 2 by Carol P. Christ

Carol P. Christ by Michael Bakas high resoultionIn the first blog in this series, I argued that one of the hallmarks of a good theology is recognizing that the source of authority must be located in individuals and communities who interpret texts and traditions as they encounter divinity anew in the present. In our new book Goddess and God World, Judith Plaskow and I suggest that a second hallmark of good theology is the “turn to the world.” What we mean by this is not only that divinity is immanent in the world, but also that the purpose of human life is to be found in this world—not the next.

The God of traditional theologies is pictured as an old man with a long white beard who rules the world from heaven. It is commonly assumed by those familiar with this picture that the purpose and meaning of human life is not to be found in this world—but rather in heaven. This assumption is increasingly being challenged. Many people no longer believe in life after death. The purpose of morality is increasingly being understood as improving the conditions for the flourishing of human and other forms of life—not on gaining the approval of a God who has the power to assign individuals to heaven or hell in the next world. Continue reading “Can Good Theology Change the World? Part 2 by Carol P. Christ”

Thinking about Goddess and God by Judith Plaskow and Carol P. Christ

Goddess and God in the World final cover design

Talking about our deepest beliefs and feelings can be surprisingly intimate. In our new book Goddess and God in the World, we discuss our different theologies and challenge each other’s views. In the conclusion, we consider whether there is any way to judge between our positions. While we believe that theologies are rooted in experience, we also insist that they must make sense of the world we share and provide the orientation we need as we face the social, political, and environmental crises of our time.

Theologically, we disagree on two fundamental issues: whether divinity is personal or impersonal; and whether divinity is good or inclusive of good and evil. Does one of our views meet our criteria for adequacy more fully than other?

Does the notion of a personal or impersonal deity make more sense of our experience of the world? Carol argues that if consciousness and intelligence is a fundamental aspect of human existence and is found in varying degrees throughout the web of life, then it makes sense to think of divinity as also having consciousness and intelligence. Judith responds that the notion of a personal deity seems to her a holdover from the biblical picture of God and that she can find no evidence in her experience or reflection that a divine individual who is conscious and intelligent exists. We seem to be at a standoff here. There is some consolation in recognizing that this is a fundamental divide in the history of religions, but this insight does not resolve our disagreement.

Does one or the other of our views offer better guidance in making moral decisions? Judith argues that her view places moral responsibility firmly in human hands, which is where it belongs. Carol agrees with Judith that humans and other individuals are the ones whose decisions will determine the fate of the world, and she finds recognition of the interdependence in the web of life sufficient grounds for moral decision-making. But she would add that the love and understanding of a divine individual inspires her to love and understand the world and to promote its flourishing. Judith believes that the idea of one divine presence that enlivens and unites the universe is a sufficient basis for ethical action.

Our other major theological difference concerns whether divinity is good or inclusive of good and evil. Judith argues that if divinity is inclusive of the world, it must be inclusive of both good and evil. Carol counters that if divinity is reflective of what is best in ourselves and in other individuals in the world, then divinity must be good, not evil.

Does one of our views provide better moral guidance? Carol argues that a divinity who is good inspires us to try to make the world better. Judith replies that the notion that divinity is good leads us to idealize ourselves and to forget or deny our capacity to do evil. Carol feels that a clear focus on the world is sufficient to remind us of our capacity for evil.

Does one of our views offer a more adequate account of the existence of evil in the world? Judith asserts that the idea that divinity is the ground of both good and evil provides a better answer to the problem of evil: the potential for both good and evil are inherent in the creative process that is the foundation of life. Carol believes that the world is created by a multiplicity of individuals, including the divinity. The capacity for good and evil is inherent in the creative process that structures the world. The divinity is good but not omnipotent. What we call evil is created by individuals other than the divinity. Judith replies that this view does not adequately account for the origin of evil.

Is there any way to choose between our different positions? Each of us is firmly convinced that her view is clear, consistent, coherent, and comprehensive, that it takes full account of the complexity of human experience, and that it provides the moral orientation we seek….Each of us has tried without success to win the other over to her perspective. In the process, we have gained a deeper appreciation of each other’s views and clarified our own. This is as far as we have been able to go. We acknowledge that, in the end, we cannot know which, if either, of our theologies expresses the nature of ultimate reality or provides the crucial ethical guidance we need. Our views have been shaped by our standpoints, including personal, communal, cultural, and historical factors, and this means that they are relative and partial. Because we cannot see into the future, we cannot know the long-term effects of either of our theological worldviews.

At the same time, we are unwilling to throw up our hands and declare that all theological perspectives are of equal value. We firmly reject the fundamentalist insistence that particular texts, traditions, or truths are universally and eternally valid. This position denies that people create and interpret traditions, and it has repeatedly led to intolerance and violence. We continue to insist that the views of divinity we have articulated make more sense of the world as we know it and provide better orientation as we face the problems of our time than the traditional views we have criticized. On the one hand, all theologies—and all worldviews—are relative to experience and limited by human finitude. On the other hand, they can be examined, evaluated, and debated in relation to their understanding of the world and the kind of life they make possible for both the self and others.

Excerpted from Goddess and God in the World: Conversations in Embodied Theology–order now. Ask for a review copy (for blog or print) or exam or desk copy. Post a review on Amazon.  Share with your friends on social media using the links below.

carol p. christ photo michael bakas

Carol P. Christ and Judith Plaskow are co-authors of Goddess and God in the World and co-editors of Womanspirit Rising and Weaving the Visions. Judith wrote the first Jewish feminist theology, Standing Again at Sinai, while Carol wrote the first Goddess feminist theology, Rebirth of the Goddess. Judith is co-founder of the Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion. Carol leads the Goddess Pilgrimage to Crete. Space available on the fall tour!

The Emergence of Feminist Theology: Remembering our Roots by Judith Plaskow and Carol P. Christ

Goddess and God in the World final cover designThis blog is an excerpt from our new book Goddess and God in the World which will be published by Fortress Press in just one week — on August 1. As we look forward to its release, we remember the critical works that started us on a journey of discovery that continues to unfold. In a jointly written chapter, we describe the beginnings of feminist theology.

Feminism was welling up from under during [the late 1960s]. We became feminists early in graduate school but did not discover feminist theology until we were preparing for our comprehensive exams. As Judith was later to write, feminism placed a question mark over absolutely everything for us: the maleness of God, the male authorship of the Bible, and the male perspectives from which virtually all theologies had been written. Three key essays set the stage for future work in the field, including our own. We have already mentioned these essays, but it is important to address the challenges they posed to traditional theology, and our own responses to them, in more detail here. Continue reading “The Emergence of Feminist Theology: Remembering our Roots by Judith Plaskow and Carol P. Christ”

The Dog and the Divine by Ivy Helman

20151004_161012When I was in high school, I once gave a speech summarizing what I had learned about G-d through my dog.  I still chuckle at the idea.  I cringe sometimes and wonder what others thought of the piece.  Oh, the seeming immaturity of such an idea and perhaps naiveté.  I’m still embarrassed by my high school self.

The connection, on which I drew, included some of the ways I had come to love my four-legged friend as well as the way I interpreted his actions as love for me.  I remember I had a list of ten things my dog had taught me about the divine.  There was definitely a mention of unconditional love, being happy to see me, probably something about not being angry or ever holding a grudge, sharing secrets, perhaps a lesson on patience, and, of course, many more which I can’t remember.  This is beginning to sound like my blog post about Hanukkah, isn’t it? What were the other two nights?  What were the other six comparisons?  Oh, never mind. Continue reading “The Dog and the Divine by Ivy Helman”

A New Covenant by Joyce Zonana

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“The Seder Table” by Lynne Feldman

As the Jewish High Holiday of Passover draws to a close, I have been reflecting on this seasonal ritual so central to collective Jewish identity and so significant to me personally.

The Haggadah, the script for the Seder gathering, enjoins all Jews to experience the Exodus—the liberation of the ancient Hebrews from slavery in Egypt —as if it were happening to each of us in our own time.  Because I was born in Cairo to an Arab Jewish family that left Egypt when I was two, I always felt Passover to be mine.  No need for “as if”: our Exodus was all too real. Yet, from my parents’ accounts, life in Egypt had been delightful. I could not reconcile the Haggadah’s dreadful representation of ancient Egypt with my family’s treasured memories of contemporary Cairo: I could not understand why we celebrated deliverance from an Egypt we loved.

Continue reading “A New Covenant by Joyce Zonana”

Pesach, Toilets, and Clean, Local Water: Seemingly Mundane Yet Necessary Components of an Embodied Liberation by Ivy Helman

20151004_161012Despite all of the ways Western society has separated the spiritual pursuit from the material and deemed spirituality superior to physicality, the religious holiday of Pesach doesn’t.  In fact, it is the physical liberation of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt that starts them on their path toward the covenant and an even deeper spiritual connection to the divine.  The Exodus story overflows with images, tales and situations in which: bodies are not ignored; nourishment, comfort and care is addressed spiritually as well as physically and the divine’s spiritual gift, so to speak, to the Israelites is not some other-worldly paradise but a this-worldly land flowing with milk and honey.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that the story is perfect: it is replete with war, murder, militarism, forms of colonialism and other manifestations of patriarchal violence.  Patriarchal influences encourage androcentric tellings of events and sexism as well.  Three examples are the all-male priesthood, the tenth plague “death of the first-born” (of course the only first born that counts are boy children), and the over-the-top covenantal concern about women as menstruators, adulterers, untrustworthy and so on. These aspects are important to acknowledge and critique, but we cannot stop there.  We must cherish the story for its insights as well. Continue reading “Pesach, Toilets, and Clean, Local Water: Seemingly Mundane Yet Necessary Components of an Embodied Liberation by Ivy Helman”

The Hebrew Priestess: A Book Review by Joyce Zonana

Hebrew Priestess coverWeaver, Prophetess, Shrinekeeper, Witch; Maiden, Mother, Queen, Midwife; Wise-Woman, Mourning-Woman, Seeker, Lover, Fool . . . . Thirteen possibilities for the female self, thirteen aspects of the Goddess, thirteen archetypes for the Hebrew (or any other) Priestess . . . thirteen fact- and dream-filled chapters in Jill Hammer and Taya Shere’s thrilling—and much-needed—new book, The Hebrew Priestess: Ancient and New Visions of Jewish Women’s Spiritual Leadership.

Nearly fifty years ago, anthropologist Raphael Patai introduced readers to the Hebrew Goddess, documenting the influence of Near Eastern Goddess religions on the practices and beliefs of the ancient Israelites. Since then, feminist scholars of religion, along with poets and novelists, have offered brilliant new interpretations of Torah and Talmud, creating feminist midrash and liturgy that open the ancient patriarchal faith to modern (and perhaps also ancient) notions of female authority and autonomy. At the same time, the increasing presence of women rabbis has transformed the congregational, communal Jewish experience for many women and men.

But what we have not had is a shamanic, visionary form of Jewish practice—“earth-based, embodied, ecstatic, energetic” (9)—that integrates ancient and contemporary Goddess spirituality with Judaism: while we have had female rabbis, we have not had formally trained and recognized Hebrew Priestesses.

Jill Hammer
Jill
Taya Shere
Taya

Enter Jill Hammer, who in the compelling Introduction to her book recounts with passion and precision her own meandering but steady journey to the Goddess and her establishment, with co-author Taya Shere, of the Kohenet Hebrew Priestess Institute, a school dedicated to ordaining contemporary Hebrew Priestesses, kohanot. “Kohenet,” although it does not appear in the Bible, is the ancient Hebrew word for “priestess.” Continue reading “The Hebrew Priestess: A Book Review by Joyce Zonana”

Mazel Tov Tzidkaniyot of the Wall by Ivy Helman

20151004_161012I have never understood the logic behind sexism. Why is half (or so) of the human race better than the other half? Of course, patriarchy and patriarchal religious traditions offer various seemingly logical reasons, sometimes even divine explanations for the inequality between the sexes. Still, the –isms of patriarchy, whatever their “reasons” or perhaps better excuses, puzzle me.

Even more puzzling are the steps patriarchy-orientated men and women take to preserve these distorted systems. Violence usually goes hand-in-hand attempting to control others in order to preserve the status quo. Obviously if you need to resort to violence to keep people in their place, there is something horribly wrong with society. That being said – one could say that almost no society, nation or culture in our modern times doesn’t have some form of patriarchal violence within it. One would be correct to attribute some measure of the increase of violence to globalization, capitalism, fear, past colonialism and/or neocolonialism. Nonetheless one is hard pressed to find a culture without sexism, without patriarchy and without the need to keep the system in place through violence. Continue reading “Mazel Tov Tzidkaniyot of the Wall by Ivy Helman”

Stealing the Yarn: Jewish Women and the Art of Feminist Dreaming (Part 2) by Jill Hammer

Jill HammerIn my last post, I discussed the uses of dreamwork for Jewish women who are uncovering their own spiritual language. The protagonists of recorded Jewish dreams, from Joseph to the dream interpreters of the Talmud to the kabbalists, tend to be male. Yet there is a legacy of Jewish women dreaming, occasionally documented, and painstakingly uncovered by researchers. This hidden history offers us resources for understanding the women of the past, and for connecting to women in the present.

The Roman poet Juvenal (2nd. cent. CE) mocks a poor Jewish woman of his time for sitting under a tree and telling the meaning of dreams, calling her “high priestess with a tree as temple.” Much later in history, Hayyim Vital, the disciple of master kabbalist Isaac Luria, records in his diary that Jewish women in the city of Sfat (Jewish holy city in Galilee known as a center for Kabbalah) in the early 17th century were actively engaged (along with men) in recording, sharing, and interpreting dreams. Vital mainly records women’s dreams when the women dream about him! He saves these dreams from the dustbin of history, ironically, because he sees the dreams as prophecies of his greatness.

For example, Vital records the dream of a friend and patron, Rachel Aberlin. In the dream, Aberlin watches Vital eat a feast of vegetables at a table full of sacred books. Behind Vital, a fire rages, yet does not consume the pile of straw in which it burns. When Aberlin shares the dream, Vital understands this dream to be a manifestation of a biblical verse: “The house of Jacob shall be fire, and the house of Joseph flame, but the house of Esau shall be straw” (Obadiah 1:18). Aberlin, however, responds to Vital’s interpretation: “You quote me the words as they are written, but I see them as a reality.” (Between Worlds: Dybbuks, Exorcists, and Early Modern Judaism, p. 106ff).

Vital sees the dream’s fire as his own spiritual fire, witnessed by Aberlin. Yet we might read the dream differently. In our dream of Aberlin’s dream, we might imagine that Aberlin’s dream encodes her experience of watching Vital consume the nourishment of sacred books, which she, as a woman, is denied. Yet, the dream suggests, the fire of revelation is behind Vital, eluding him. Within the dream and in waking life, Vital is focused on text, but Aberlin, like Moses, perceives the fire that does not consume. Aberlin, not Vital, is the prophet in the dream— and the waking Aberlin says so. Vital records the dream, without recognizing Aberlin’s implicit criticism of his way of knowing.

Continue reading “Stealing the Yarn: Jewish Women and the Art of Feminist Dreaming (Part 2) by Jill Hammer”