.. Christian
Faith and the
Discipleship
of the Mind
.
by
Alister
McGrath
Faith is fundamentally a relational matter; it
is about trusting God. Yet part of the inner
dynamic of the life of faith is a desire to
understand more about who and what we trust.
Anselm of Canterbury (c. 1033−1109) famously
remarked that theology is basically ‘faith
seeking understanding’. The great Christian
theologian Augustine of Hippo (354−430) was also
clear that there is a genuine intellectual
excitement to wrestling with God. Theology is a
passion of the mind, a longing to understand
more about God’s nature and ways, and the
transformative impact that this has on life. Our
faith can be deepened and our personal lives
enriched through theological reflection. So how
do we set about developing this passion of the
mind?
We cannot explore the relevance of theology,
however, without first noting how bad a
reputation it has developed within the churches
in the last few decades. For some Christian
leaders, theology is irrelevant to real life. It
is about retreating into ivory towers when there
are more pressing things to worry about. Yet
rightly understood, theology is about enabling
informed Christian action. It makes us want to
do things, and do them in a Christian way. It
helps us make judgements about how best to act;
it encourages us to engage with the real world.
Other Christian leaders express anxiety
concerning the tendency of theology to create
division and conflict within the Church. J. I.
Packer, one of evangelicalism’s most influential
and wise voices, has written of the problem of
‘entrenched intellectualists’
– ‘rigid,
argumentative, critical Christians, champions of
God’s truth for whom orthodoxy is all’. I think
we all know people who seem to have an obsession
with what Packer calls ‘winning the battle for
mental correctness’ and little interest in any
other aspect of the Christian faith. They may
love God, but they seem to have problems loving
other people
– especially
when they disagree with them. It’s not always
easy to discern how this fixation on theological
correctness links up with the Gospel accounts of
the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth. Surely the
better way is to pursue a generous orthodoxy,
seeing disagreements in the context of the
greater agreements which bind us together?
The heartbeat of the Christian faith lies in the
sheer intellectual delight and excitement caused
by the person of Jesus of Nazareth. Here is
someone who the Church finds to be
intellectually luminous, spiritually persuasive
and infinitely satisfying, both communally and
individually. While Christians express this
delight and wonder in their creeds, they do so
more especially in their worship and adoration.
Centuries ago, Augustine of Hippo reflected on
the way in which communities were unified by the
objects of their love. The surest way of
enhancing the identity, coherence and cohesion
of a community is to help it see what it loves
more clearly, and thence to love it more dearly.
That is why worship is so important for
Christian identity. It focuses our attention on
what really matters, and proclaims that the
Christian faith has the power to capture the
imagination
– not
merely to persuade the mind
– by throwing
open the depths of the human soul to the
realities of the gospel. It sustains a great
passion for Jesus Christ, which nourishes the
theological task, even as it calls into question
its capacity to live up to the brilliance of its
ultimate object.
Yet while the appeal of the Christian vision of
Jesus of Nazareth to the baptized imagination
and emotions must never be neglected or
understated, we need to appreciate that there
remains an intellectual core to the Christian
faith. We cannot love God without wanting to
understand more about him. We are called upon to
love God with our minds, as well as our hearts
and souls (Matthew 22:37). We cannot allow
Christ to reign in our hearts if he does not
also guide our thinking. The discipleship of the
mind is just as important as any other part of
the process by which we grow in our faith and
commitment.
The defence of the intellectual credibility of
Christianity has become increasingly important
in recent years, not least on account of the
rise of the new atheism. We must see ourselves
as standard-bearers for the spiritual, ethical,
imaginative and intellectual vitality of the
Christian faith, working out why we believe that
certain things are true, and what difference
they make to the way we live our lives and
engage with the world around us. Above all, we
must expand our vision of the Christian gospel.
For some, realizing how much more there is to
know about our faith can seem intimidating. But
it can also be exciting to anticipate the
discoveries that lie ahead, as the rich
landscape of the Christian faith unfolds before
our eyes.
Let us explore this image of the ‘landscape of
faith’ a little further. Imagine that you are
standing on a mountain ridge. Below you, spread
out like a tapestry, is a beautiful landscape,
stretching into the far distance. Woods,
streams, fields, villages are all lit by the
gentle radiance of a late afternoon sun. It’s
the sort of thing that made Romantics like
William Wordsworth want to rush off and write
poetry. So how would you describe such a
stunning vista to a friend back home?
It’s actually quite hard to do this, except in
the most superficial way, because words are just
not good enough to express our experience of
reality. You could tell your friend that you saw
a wood
– but
that little word ‘wood’ is never going to convey
your vibrant memory of a green mass of trees,
their dappled leaves shimmering in the sunlight,
and your emotional reaction to such beauty.
You could draw a map of the landscape, which
helps you see how its elements related to each
other
– woods,
mountains, streams and villages. But it was not
a map that moved you to wonder and delight, but
the landscape itself
– the
beautiful view, the cool wind, the fragrance of
flowers and resin, the distant tinkling of
cowbells as the herds wander around, seeking the
best pastures.
It may be helpful to think of theology as a map,
and the gospel as a landscape. This helps us
grasp that theology tries to describe in words
what we encounter through faith. When we
understand theology properly, it helps us
articulate, deepen and communicate the Christian
vision of God in all its fullness and wonder. On
the other hand, when theology becomes
preoccupied with the relation of ideas, it loses
sight of the vision of God, which gives vitality
to the life of faith. The worshipping community
is the crucible in which much of the best
theology is forged, even though it may be
refined by academic reflection.
We will remain with the image of the landscape
for a moment longer, as there is another point
we need to consider. As we try to take in our
vast, rich and beautiful panorama, most of us
will find ourselves concentrating on one part of
the view that we especially like or are
particularly struck by, filtering out the rest.
This ‘selective attention’ or ‘cognitive bias’
is helpful in some ways. It allows us to focus
on what we think really matters. Yet all too
often, it means that we miss out on other
things. We fail to see other features of the
landscape, or appreciate their importance.
Now imagine that you are joined by a group of
friends, all looking at the same panorama. In
one sense, all of you will see the same view.
Yet the observational dynamic is quite
different. As you start talking to each other,
it soon becomes clear that others have noticed
things that you missed
– a
fork in a stream, a small lake, or some cattle
finding shade from the hot afternoon sun under a
tree. A corporate view of the landscape emerges,
which is far more comprehensive and reliable
than any individual account of it. Not only will
a group see more than any single individual; a
group may also correct an individual’s account
of the landscape of faith. What one person
thought was a stream running through a wood
might actually turn out to be a trail.
The significance of this point is that we need
theology to give a comprehensive, critical
account of faith, rather than being limited to
one individual’s often very subjective
perception of things. A number of theologians
– such
as Cyril of Jerusalem (313–86) and Vladimir
Lossky (1903–58) – have emphasized the
‘catholicity’ of Christian theology. Their point
is that the theologian is not a lone maverick,
but someone who works collaboratively within the
Body of Christ to build up a fully orbed
understanding of the gospel.
We can take this a stage further. Theology
values the perspectives and insights of those
who have mapped and travelled the road of faith
in the past, and have now arrived at their
journey’s end. Augustine of Hippo, Thomas
Aquinas (c. 1225–74), Martin Luther (1493–1546)
and Karl Barth (1886–1968) are all dead. But
they are widely recognized in theological
reflection and debate today as authoritative,
living voices, who have the capacity to enrich,
stimulate and challenge us as we think through
issues for ourselves. One of the senses of the
theological term ‘tradition’ is learning to
respect those who have reflected on the great
questions of theology before us. What many call
‘the great tradition’ is both a resource and
challenge to us: it puts at our disposal
theological treasures that we may value and make
use of today, but it also questions whether our
theological generation understands and
communicates the gospel as well as our
forebears.
This naturally leads us to reflect on the
sources of theology. Christians have quite
distinct ideas about who God is and what God is
like. But where do they get these ideas from? It
is generally accepted that there are three major
sources for theology: the Bible, reason and
tradition. Each merits further discussion.
Excerpt from Mere
Theology: Christian Faith and the
Discipleship of the Mind, Chapter 1
Faith, pages 3-8, © 2010 Alister E. McGrath,
first published in Great Britain by SPCK
Publishing. Used with permission.
See previous article by Dr Alister McGrath in
Living Bulwark:
Roots
that Refresh: The Vitality of
Reformation Spirituality
 Alister
E. McGrath, born in Belfast, Northern
Ireland, holds the Chair in Theology,
Ministry and Education at King’s College
London. He was previously Professor of
Historical Theology at Oxford University
and Director of the Oxford Center for
Christian Apologetics.
Originally a student of science, in 1977
McGrath was awarded a PhD in Biochemistry
from Oxford University for his work on
molecular biophysics. Following his
conversion from atheism to Christianity,
he studied divinity at St. John's College
at Cambridge (1978-80). It was during this
time that he studied for ordination in the
Church of England. McGrath was elected
University Research Lecturer in Theology
at Oxford University in 1993, and also
served as research professor of theology
at Regent College, Vancouver, from 1993-9.
He earned an Oxford Doctorate of Divinity
in 2001 for his research on historical and
systematic theology.
McGrath has written many books on the
interaction of science and faith and is
the producer of the 'Scientific Theology'
project, encouraging a dialogue between
the natural sciences and Christian
theology. McGrath is a strong critic of
Richard Dawkins, Oxford biology professor
and one of the most outspoken atheists. He
has addressed Dawkins' criticism of
religion in several of his books, most
notably in Dawkins Delusion published in
2007 by SPCK and IVP.
More
information on his websites: alistermcgrath.net
and Professor
Alister McGrath
top photo credit: Bible study photo from
lightstock.com
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