I've had this debate raging in my head for a few weeks now, and sometimes it rages outside my head: Is systematic theology worth anything? My department went to a conference a couple of weeks ago, and this was a major topic of conversation. One main presenter is done with systematics. The other two are hanging on, although one has a redefinition of the word "systematic" that doesn't help a bit. Systematics is so dogged with baggage, I'm not sure it's fruitful to try to redeem the word.
Here's my short assessment: Systematics as traditionally conceived doesn't seem to have any merit. It takes all sorts of diverse moments of Scripture and lists them out so we can handle the concepts. So take the idea of God's immutability. From Hebrews, systematics says, "God doesn't change. He is the same yesterday, today and forever." But if they're honest, they have to see that God "repented" of making humans when he flooded the earth in the time of Noah and that Moses convinced God not to destroy the Hebrews and make his Name a laughingstock. If we engage the stories (and more importantly perhaps, the Story), we will have an enigmatic view of God emerge, but one that we can engage in faith. Otherwise, if we live according to a list of God's attributes, we have to pick our favorite characteristics: "God obviously never changes! It says so in Hebrews!" Or: "Look how God listened to his servant! I don't care what Hebrews says!" Now if we read in context, many of these contradictions will vanish, but we need to be able to live with the tensions in the story.
The only (almost) value of systematics is that you can memorize a bunch of references to locate stories. But I think getting familiar with your Bible through frequent reading will accomplish that. I guess my current opinion is that systematics doesn't help.
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I'd be interested in more detail as to your understanding of "systematics as traditionally conceived," as I'm finding your post to be a bit paradoxical. I read your post and thought to myself that the question of whether or not God changes is an interesting one. I'd like to see a more complete listing of examples than just the two you listed. Are you saying that this type of systematic examination is not interesting? That's not what I'm picking up from your post.
A systematic look does require some familiarity with the narrative context of the passages that are being looked at. Unfortunately, this fact does get lost. For many Christians, a systematic look at Scripture becomes pasages looked at devoid of context. Perhaps you saying there is no way around this problem in actual practice?
I'm a big fan of Cormac McCarthy novels (and of Coen Bros. films based on his novels). Having read every book he's ever written (some more than once), I'll instintively read something in one book and start thinking about how the same theme is addressed elsewhere in his writing. I don't find this to be counterproductive. It actually reveals things that I missed earlier. Reading topically helps me to understand the stories better. Yet, the reason I obsess about his writing so much still goes back to my experience of reading *The Crossing* for the first time--it's the only time I can ever remember a book leaving me completely emotionally spent. This will always be why I keep coming back, but to block me from considering how he addressed a particular topic in other works seems to limit my ability to purse a greater degree of intimacy with his work.
I would argue the same with the Bible. Loving the story must come first, but thinking topically is a natural and useful avenue for a reader to purse.
Very good points, all. I think your example of reading McCarthy's novels (which I am not familiar with, sadly) is the sort of way we should read the Bible. Cross-referencing stories within the big Story is essential to knowing the Story. If that's how systematic theology has worked for you, that's amazing, because I think that's perfect.
However, my experience of systheo was the old form of notes that the professor had lithographed for thirty years that had a list of God's attributes in "Theology Proper." The list included immutability, omnipresence, immanence, transcendence, among others. There were one or two verse references next to each attribute, and maybe subpoints. I drank it all in at the time, but later realized that this construct yielded mere facts about God without much encouragement to get to know him. I have no doubt that Dr. Mayer had a robust relationship with God. To see him break down in tears talking about his Savior was beautiful. But to us poor students, the important thing was memorizing his awful notes for very tricky tests. I didn't get to know God at all through those lists of attributes. In retrospect, I think telling the stories of how God interacted and interacts with his creation would build students' worldviews and relationships with God. I don't have any lesson plans for that, but I'm intrigued by it.
Systheo for most does turn into words from the Bible devoid of context. I think it may be a rather broken vessel, where it carries a bit of water, but there are better vessels around. Or, an awesome picture quoted in NT Wright's "Jesus and the Victory of God" in another context: They're carrying water from a well hundreds of yards away in badly leaking watering cans to water a garden located right next to a babbling brook.
I would say systematic theology (as traditionally conceived in my educational experience as lists of verses jumbled together to make a point that the stories/Story of Scripture may or may not make) is no longer interesting to me, and I think it harms how people read the Bible, because there is usually no way around the hurdle of verse-jacking. If someone has a healthier engagement with the text and wants to call it systematics, they're free to do so. I feel that the moniker is probably tainted beyond use. Does all that make sense?
(And I do love that you told me a story about your favorite author. That makes me want to read Cormac McCarthy, in exactly the same way a list of verses does not make me want to get to know God.)
Systematic Theology is merely a tool that allows us feeble minded humans to categorize and 'attempt' to define the concept of God. Just as we ineffectively attempt (some with more success than others) to put into words our experiences and relationships with each other and with God's creation. For example: Can words ever justify the beauty of a sunset cast upon the mountains? Or, could our descriptions ever begin to articulate the depths of emotions that falling in love produce? No way!!! The actual seeing the sunset will always out do words. And there is nothing like the actual experience of being in love.
When one even comes close to describing these things we hail them as geniuses.
Will we ever begin to scratch the surface of explaining who God is? Never!
The real problem then comes when we exalt our 'systematic theology' as the end all of understanding God. And sit around at our schools of theology and argue about whose feeble attempt is a bit more descriptive than the next person. As the title of Rob Bell's book so adequately describs our attempts - they are 'Velvet Elvis'.
Then is there benefit in attempting to describe God? Some. But it will never compare to actually experiencing God.
Very well said, Dan. I should stop there, but since I'm incapable of saying only four words, I'll go on. I like your point about trying to describe sunsets, etc. It won't do it justice. But part of the calling and creativity of humanity is to try to describe, and even *gasp*, systematize. I think these activities are appropriate in different spheres.
For instance, my wife is one of the most systematic people on the planet. But when I think of our relationship, there's not much system there. There's enjoyment and storytelling and magic (non-Harry Potter style). To be fair, she may like more system, but she hasn't pushed for it. Interestingly, in the counseling world, there's the concept of "family systems." Who plays what role when? Is Mom the one who always tells you what to do, and Dad always silent, but when he goes off, he goes off!? That's part of the family system. But it's all latent until there's a need for diagnostics (counseling, for instance). Same with my wife and me. There's surely a system under there (if that's how you see the world), but it's a woefully inadequate way of describing the relationality of relationship. It does describe relationship in a dry, mostly inhuman sense. When she does that, I do this for this reason. But that can be a storied description as well. Point being, God doesn't deserve the indignity of being talked about as a list of propositions. Think of the Bush-bashers out there. They may make a "proposition" that "Bush is stupid." But they never stop there. They always go on to describe some faux pas or three to much laughter. (I do realize he must not be stupid; he just maybe . . . sometimes . . . does silly things. Whether in a speech or with foreign policy or the environment or the economy or something. Totally beside the point.) Bush-bashers tell stories. Clinton-bashers tell stories. Why do so many people avoid them with God?
Part of the calling to systematize has to do with ordering the creation. We needed Adam to name the animals and Linnaeus to invent binomial nomenclature. We need engineers to build bridges to carry well-systematized cars. But God never called us to systematize him. Our fallen inclination is to take control of things (contrast that idea with stewarding them), and I think taking control yields the dark side of systematizing. When we do that garden of Eden thing (which happens every day), we try to control God. God give me this, God works this way, etc. In humility, we can tell stories of how God works. But lists of propositions don't work. Even if you list out the instances where, for instance, God appeared in person to people in the Bible, the stories are nearly bursting out of the list.
Maybe this is all a problem in semantics (see my first post). It's okay to put people and places and things and God in categories; that's what we do. It's a gift from God that we don't have to know everything about everything; indeed, that seems to be how God and only God is. (Note a small category/system there.) But when this ever (unfallen) human tendency to categorize gives way to the Modernist arrogance that we now have God figured out (and if we don't, we'll add that new attribute to our list), that's where systematic theology goes awry. (That is waaaay overstated. I think the sys theo books I used went awry, but they were written by men who loved God. Their perspective was skewed, as surely as mine is skewed in other ways.)
The other side is story. We tell stories. It's what we do. Even nerds (see xkcd.com) in their seemingly propositional way tell stories. They have the background/backstory so that they only have to state something in one sentence, and they all get it because the story was previously told. The apostle Paul was the same way. He was able to make short, pithy statements to churches, because he was calling to mind something he said in person or some First Testament quote. He used shorthand versions of stories to be economical with his words (unlike you know who). And story can be as unrefined as something spoken at the lunch table or as refined as some of the finest love poems ever written. There are varying degrees of talent, but we all engage in story, because it's what we do. And we revere good story-tellers. Why Garrison Keillor? He's a good story-teller.
We categorize and tell stories to varying degrees based on our personalities. There is some of each in the other. I can use a story to tell you about my subconscious categories, or I can list my categories. But I would still contend that the way humans communicate and relate is through story.
Sorry for bending your e-ear.
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