Centuries of Back and Forth
I recently read the opening lines of an article in a preacher's magazine in which the question was being raised about Jesus and knowledge of the end times. Given the fact that in Matthew Jesus says that even the Son doesn't know the hour, the question being raised was this: does this deny Jesus' omniscience and/or divinity?
My initial reaction was to sigh, roll my eyes, and put the magazine down. That's because this is an old argument...like centuries old. While I don't mind hearing these debates or reading about their initial formulation (usually between the 2nd and 4th centuries AD), I find the need to re-argue or re-hash them to be a bit tiresome.
That has to do with the fact that there is the need felt by some to keep defending particular theological ideas (this is called apologetics). In and of itself, no big deal. I am certainly an apologist for the traditions of the United Methodist Church. But even being a supporter of Wesleyan theology, I have to acknowledge that some of Wesley's ideas, while good, do not rest as solidly on scripture as I might like.
It is, therefore, usually these very points that become subjects of contention. Which is why, after a while, they can become rather tired subjects. That's because they move into the realm of faith rather than fact as well as far into the realm of theoretical. Usually the passages, such as this one in Matthew, seem to be at odds with a doctrine of faith because the doctrine holds a particular idea regarding Jesus. In this case, the idea is the divinity of Jesus and his subsequent omniscience. If that is the posited point of beginning, then a passage in the Bible that suggests otherwise, even if they stem from the words of Jesus, have to be wrestled into submission to the overarching theological presupposition.
This sets in motion a series of balancing acts where we can't deny our presuppositions, nor can we deny the scriptures which both support and (it sometimes seems) deny our stance. Suddenly the text can not necessarily mean what it says and the theological presupposition has to be re-formulated to encompass the passage.
For some, apologetics can quickly deteriorate into a house of cards - shaky structure upon shaky structure. And the reason we have these centuries long arguments is that (a) there is no clear text to which one can point for definite proof for or against a particular doctrine and (b) there is no specific answer to these arguments. Hence the need for them to be affirmations of faith.
I don't know if these kinds of arguments sway people one way or another. Even within the fold of a particular faith tradition there is little consensus. A need for the insistence of the fundamentals points to the ambiguous nature of doctrines and theological constructs. And even fundamentalists disagree.
I do find it fun to have these discussions with friends or in respectful arguments with others. But when we begin to use them as black and white litmus tests for "true" belief, we find ourselves right back at the 4th century ready to exclude and brand heterodox those ideas and persons who think differently, even from the same source material, and that isn't really a place many of us want to b
My initial reaction was to sigh, roll my eyes, and put the magazine down. That's because this is an old argument...like centuries old. While I don't mind hearing these debates or reading about their initial formulation (usually between the 2nd and 4th centuries AD), I find the need to re-argue or re-hash them to be a bit tiresome.
That has to do with the fact that there is the need felt by some to keep defending particular theological ideas (this is called apologetics). In and of itself, no big deal. I am certainly an apologist for the traditions of the United Methodist Church. But even being a supporter of Wesleyan theology, I have to acknowledge that some of Wesley's ideas, while good, do not rest as solidly on scripture as I might like.
It is, therefore, usually these very points that become subjects of contention. Which is why, after a while, they can become rather tired subjects. That's because they move into the realm of faith rather than fact as well as far into the realm of theoretical. Usually the passages, such as this one in Matthew, seem to be at odds with a doctrine of faith because the doctrine holds a particular idea regarding Jesus. In this case, the idea is the divinity of Jesus and his subsequent omniscience. If that is the posited point of beginning, then a passage in the Bible that suggests otherwise, even if they stem from the words of Jesus, have to be wrestled into submission to the overarching theological presupposition.
This sets in motion a series of balancing acts where we can't deny our presuppositions, nor can we deny the scriptures which both support and (it sometimes seems) deny our stance. Suddenly the text can not necessarily mean what it says and the theological presupposition has to be re-formulated to encompass the passage.
For some, apologetics can quickly deteriorate into a house of cards - shaky structure upon shaky structure. And the reason we have these centuries long arguments is that (a) there is no clear text to which one can point for definite proof for or against a particular doctrine and (b) there is no specific answer to these arguments. Hence the need for them to be affirmations of faith.
I don't know if these kinds of arguments sway people one way or another. Even within the fold of a particular faith tradition there is little consensus. A need for the insistence of the fundamentals points to the ambiguous nature of doctrines and theological constructs. And even fundamentalists disagree.
I do find it fun to have these discussions with friends or in respectful arguments with others. But when we begin to use them as black and white litmus tests for "true" belief, we find ourselves right back at the 4th century ready to exclude and brand heterodox those ideas and persons who think differently, even from the same source material, and that isn't really a place many of us want to b
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