Gregory of Nyssa on the Nearness of Heaven

I came across this passage in a letter of Gregory of Nyssa to a friend of his, and immediately wanted to share it:

“It does not seem to me that the Gospel is speaking of the firmament of heaven as some remote habitation of God when it advises us to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect, because the divine is equally present in all things, and, in like manner, it pervades all creation and it does not exist separated from being, but the divine nature touches each element of being with equal honor, encompassing all things within itself.”

If there is a heaven, it is to be seen in the dignity borne by each bit of being; not infinitely elsewhere, but breaking out from within the dishonor and decay with which we are more familiar.

Call for Papers :: Fordham Graduate Theology Conference

I’m helping to organize a regional graduate student conference that will take place at the end of April at the Lincoln Center campus of Fordham University, midtown Manhattan.

The call for papers is below; if you know of anyone who might be interested, please pass this along or print off a copy for yourself by clicking here: FGTC call for papers.

_______

:: Call for Papers ::

Marginal Persons and the Margins of Personhood

 

Fordham Graduate Theology Conference

Saturday April 30th, 2011

Fordham University, Lincoln Center, NYC

Keynote Address: Virginia Burrus (Drew University)

The Theology Graduate Student Association at Fordham warmly invites submissions from graduate students in the disciplines comprising religious studies and theology. Students whose research is primarily textual/biblical, sociological, historical, philosophical, ethical, or constructive are all invited to submit and attend. Examples of topics within the scope of the theme include:

The dynamics of marginalization: the involvement of religion in economic, political, or colonial exploitation/liberation; religious hybridity or self-location at margins; boundaries drawn with religious rhetoric—past and present; the exclusion and erasure of people from the historical record; the value, function, and criteria of orthodoxies and heresies.

The notion of ‘personhood’ in religious contexts: the definition and significance of personhood as a category; the propriety of conceiving of God as personal; controversy over the “persons” of the Trinity; the relation of animals and angels to personhood; the unique rights of persons, and the politics of recognizing personal rights; religion as a “personal matter,” not a public concern; personhood as rhetoric or ontology.

Abstracts, no longer than 350 words, should be sent via email to fordhamtgsa@gmail.com by Monday, March 21st.

Presentations will be 15-20 minutes, with subsequent time for questions/discussion. The conference will conclude with a keynote address from Virginia Burrus. Professor Burrus is a scholar of late-ancient Christianity at Drew University. She is a former president of the North American Patristics Society and the author or editor of eight books, including Saving Shame: Martyrs, Saints, and Other Abject Subjects and The Sex-Lives of Saints: An Erotics of Ancient Hagiography.

Complete conference schedule and further information will be available at the conference website (click here).  Questions may be directed to fordhamtgsa@gmail.com.

The Hippopotamus

It just might be the case that T.S. Eliot beat me to my dissertation by about 90 years. Here is a poem published in 1920:

The Hippopotamus — T.S. Eliot

THE broad-backed hippopotamus
Rests on his belly in the mud;
Although he seems so firm to us
He is merely flesh and blood.

Flesh-and-blood is weak and frail,
Susceptible to nervous shock;
While the True Church can never fail
For it is based upon a rock.

The hippo’s feeble steps may err
In compassing material ends,
While the True Church need never stir
To gather in its dividends.

The ‘potamus can never reach
The mango on the mango-tree;
But fruits of pomegranate and peach
Refresh the Church from over sea.

At mating time the hippo’s voice
Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,
But every week we hear rejoice
The Church, at being one with God.

The hippopotamus’s day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a mysterious way–
The Church can sleep and feed at once.

I saw the ‘potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,
And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.

Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.

He shall be washed as white as snow,
By all the martyr’d virgins kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.

 

Eliot works out a fantastic reversal over the course of the poem. As Mary Midgley (whose book Beast and Man: The Roots of Human Nature led me to Eliot’s poem) points out, we have a tendency to think about animals in their actual behavior  and humans in their ideal behavior. Hippopotami are bloated, awkward, and fartsome, while human beings intone immaculate hallelujahs.

By the end of the poem, however, the rarified hubris of the pure Church has turned to an isolating fog. Building a community, or a spirituality on the principle of excluding the animal (whether one’s own human animality or the animal others whom we meet face to face) may also thwart God’s love, which bends to bodies as bloated and fartsome as our own.

Animality and the Word of God :: John 1:1-4

I have been dwelling for quite some time at the boundary between humans and animals, thinking through the way that this boundary is imagined and presented, and especially thinking through the way that this boundary is infused with theological significance or drawn in theological terms.

This afternoon I was reading through Derrida’s final seminar (now published as The Beast and the Sovereign) and in the 12th session of that seminar came a discussion of the first chapters of both Genesis and the Gospel of John. Of course, both of these texts are heavily freighted so far as the relationships among God, humans, and other animals are concerned. Derrida’s circuitous thinking inspired a (theologically loaded) translation of John 1:1-4 that I’d like to try out (significant elements italicized).

Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν θεόν, καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος. οὗτος ἦν ἐν ἀρχῇ πρὸς τὸν θεόν. πάντα δι’ αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο, καὶ χωρὶς αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο οὐδὲ ἕν. ὃ γέγονεν ἐν αὐτῷ ζωὴ ἦν, καὶ ἡ ζωὴ ἦν τὸ φῶς τῶν ἀνθρώπων· καὶ τὸ φῶς ἐν τῇ σκοτίᾳ φαίνει, καὶ ἡ σκοτία αὐτὸ οὐ κατέλαβεν.

“In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God. This word was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through this word, and apart from this word not one thing came to be. That which came to be by this word was animality, and this animality was the light of humanity. The light appeared in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

Now, clearly this is pushing the usual semantic range of ζωὴ, at least as we are accustomed to hearing it. Still, I think that this translation has some merit.

Etymologically, ζωὴ [life] is the animating force of the ζωόν [living being, animal]. ζωὴ is emphatically not something that is exclusive property of human beings, but is the animating force in which both humans and animals are alive. Classically, when someone comes to define just what it is that an ἀνθρωπος [human] is, being human is described as being some kind or another of ζωόν [animal] (for two famous examples, ζωόν πολιτικόν [the political animal], ζωόν λογον εχων [the animal having speech/reason/discourse]. ζωὴ, then, is a necessary element of being human, but can’t belong to humanity alone.

Furthermore, John is most certainly quoting and riffing on Genesis here. The λόγος [word] is clearly the speech of Elohim, at which all creation emerges (not just the human mode of being).

All that to say, to imagine that the life of which John speaks here is something that belongs only to human beings precisely as human beings (e.g. a “spiritual” life that has nothing to do with animals) is a stunning bit of prejudice. The life which is the light of humanity is not a life that excludes, or comes in distinction from the life which is the life of animals. In order to reinforce this point, we might remember the oft-made point that the λόγος becomes σὰρξ [flesh] in order to dwell among us, not (literally, at least) ἀνθρωπος [human].

If this line of reading is viable, then one of the first things that we need to theologically reconfigure is the significance of God’s λόγος, and of God’s being as λόγος.

Traditionally, in both Greek philosophy and much of the Christian tradition, among creatures λόγος  has been an exclusive property of humanity, and a direct connection with God which excludes all other creatures. The human is rational, articulate, speaking, discursive [all valid translations] whereas other creatures are not. This is so much the case, that one can name the class of living beings which are not humans (every non-human living being that falls under the label “animal”) simply by saying “ὁι ἀλογοι” [those who lack λόγος].

Now, if the divine λόγος can be thought as animating creatures other that humans as Genesis and John perhaps suggest, then using λόγος as the boundary that divides humanity from all other creatures is a stunning bit of hubristic appropriation. To claim λόγος as something that belongs to us and to us alone is to cut ourselves off from the rest of creation, and perhaps, from God’s presence to the rest of creation.

I can’t and won’t argue it out here in full (beyond what I’ve already tried to indicate in John’s text), but I’m laboring to work out a theological thesis. Namely, that it is the concern to foster and defend an exclusively human λόγος (our own rationality, our own speech, our own mode of thought) which actually cuts us off from the divine λόγος which is present in animals (and everything that has come to be). The “rationality” which we imagine as the dividing line between “us” humans and “them” animals is also the pathology that cuts us off from God’s activity in and for creation. Our autonomous λόγος is not the opposite of, but is precisely the expression of our παθος. In (my [per]version of) John’s terms, the darkness that cannot and will not overcome the light is the autonomous human λόγος that cannot and will not eradicate the ζωὴ [life, both animal and human] which is God’s work.

Salvation, then, would be imagined not as a process whereby one’s animality (desire, lust, embodiment, etc.) is overcome and abandoned in an approach to God (who is perceived the opposite of all of these things), but rather as a forsaking of the autonomous human λόγος (which can only end in death) for the life-giving λόγος of God. Perhaps the λόγος of God saves human beings by integrating them more deeply into the life [ζωὴ] which is the life of all creation. Perhaps becoming a child of God (John 1.12) entails becoming more animal rather than less.

2010 Pages Turned :: A Year of Books

Here is a list of the books that I read cover-to-cover in 2010. I did not include articles or books which I read only in part. They are grouped loosely according to categories which, like all categories, are fluid and disputable. Within each category, I’ve put the texts that I found most illuminating, inspiring, or intriguing in bold-face print. In some categories, I’ve also indicated the text that I found least appealing (for any number of reasons) by putting the title in brown print.

I would enjoy conversing about any of these books if anyone has thoughts or opinions to share.

 

Theology:

James Keating and Thomas Joseph White, eds., Divine Impassibility and the Mystery of Human Suffering, 357.

Paul Tillich, Systematic Theology I, 300.

Friedrich Schleiermacher, On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers, 223.

David Tracy, The Analogical Imagination: Christian Theology and the Culture of Pluralism, 467.

James H. Cone, A Black Theology of Liberation, 254.

Sallie McFague, The Body of God: An Ecological Theology, 274.

Ernst Troeltsch, The Absoluteness of Christianity and the History of Religions, 174.

Arthur D. Yunker, Toward a Theology of Pipesmoking, 73.

Mary Daly, Beyond God the Father: Toward a Philosophy of Women’s Liberation, 225.

Adolf von Harnack, What is Christianity?, 301.

Rosemary Radford Ruether, Sexism and God-Talk: Toward a Feminist Theology, 285.

Robert W. Jenson, Systematic Theology I: The Triune God, 245.

Vladimir Lossky, The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church, 252.

Walter Rauschenbusch, A Theology for the Social Gospel, 280.

Robert W. Jenson, Systematic Theology II: The Words of God, 380.

Karl Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith: An Introduction to the Idea of Christianity, 470.

Paul Tillich, The Courage to Be, 197.

Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics I.1: The Doctrine of the Word of God, 503.

Graham Ward, Barth, Derrida and the Language of Theology, 258.

Johann Baptist Metz, Faith in History and Society: Toward a Practical Fundamental Theology, 287.

Wolfhart Pannenberg, Anthropology in Theological Perspective, 552.

Karl Barth, The Humanity of God, 96.

Paul F. Knitter, One Earth Many Religions: Multifaith Dialogue and Global Responsibility, 218.

Marjorie Hewitt Suchoki, The Fall to Violence: Original Sin in Relational Theology, 168.

Rosemary Radford Ruether, Gaia and God: An Ecofeminist Theology of Earth Healing, 310.

Alastair McFadyen, Bound to Sin: Abuse, Holocaust, and the Christian Doctrine of Sin, 255.

Jean Daniélou, Philon D’Alexandrie, 214.

Anna-Stina Ellverson, The Dual Nature of Man: A Study in the Theological Anthropology of Gregory of Nazianzus, 113.

Thomas H. Tobin, The Creation of Man: Philo and the History of Interpretation, 197.

Simone Weil, Waiting for God, 151.

Celia Deane Drummond and David Clough, eds., Creaturely Theology, 294.

 

Philosophy:

Slavoj Zizek, The Ticklish Subject: The Absent Centre of Political Ontology, 499.

Georgio Agamben, The Open: Man and Animal, 102.

Kelly Oliver, Animal Lessons: How They Teach Us to Be Human, 364.

Catherine Osborne, Dumb Beasts and Dead Philosophers: Humanity and the Humane in Ancient Philosophy and Literature, 262.

 

Religious Studies:

John Esposito, Islam: The Straight Path, 335.

 

Ancient/Medieval texts:

Nemesius of Emessa, On the Nature of Man, 273.

Gregory of Nazianzus, Festal Orations [1, 38, 39, 40, 41, 45], 195.

Augustine, Confessions, 347.

Gregory of Nazianzus, On God and Man: Theological Poetry, 176.

Gregory of Nazianzus, On God and Christ [Orations 27-31 and Letters 101, 102], 175.

Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory Nazianzus [Orations 8, 14, 20, 26, 38, 39, 42, 44, and asst’d poems/letters], 273.

Evagrius of Pontus, Evagrius of Pontus, trans. Robert Sinkewicz [Includes: Foundations of the Monastic Life; To Eulogios; On the Vices Opposed to Virtues; On the Eight Thoughts; The Monk: a Treatise on the Practical Life; To Monks; To Virgins; On thoughts; Chapters on Prayer; Reflections; Exhortations; Thirty Three Ordered Chapters; Maxims], 369.

Evagrius of Pontus, Antirrhetikos, trans. David Brakke, 190.

Evagrius of Pontus, Evagrius Ponticus, trans. A.M. Cassiday [Includes: On the Faith; Great Letter; Letters 7,8,19,20; Foundations; On Thoughts; A Word about Prayer; Scholia on Job; Scholia on Ecclesiastes; On the ‘Our Father’; Scholia on Luke; To the Virgins; Excerpts; Aphorisms; Definitions; On Prayer], 250.

Origen, De Principiis/ Peri Archon, 342.

Philo of Alexandria, De Mundis Opificio, 60.

Philo of Alexandria, De Gigantibus, 10.

 

Biblical Studies:

Martin Kähler, The So-Called Historical Jesus and the Historic Biblical Christ, 154.

Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins, 357.

 

Ethics:

Larry Rasmussen, Earth Community, Earth Ethics, 364.

Wesley Smith, A Rat is a Pig is a Dog is a Boy: The Human Cost of the Animal Rights Movement, 310.

 

Biography/Memoir:

Sara Miles, Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion, 285.

Dorothy Day, The Long Loneliness, 286.

 

Fiction/Literature:

Chaim Potok, The Chosen, 272.

Chaim Potok, My Name is Asher Lev, 369.

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, 90.

Marilyn Chandler McEntyre, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies, 242.

Toni Morrison, Beloved, 277.

C.S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength, 382.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude, 458.

Shusaku Endo, Silence, 201.

Danielle Ganek, Lulu Meets God and Doubts Him, 275.

Charles Johnson, Oxherding Tale, 176.

 

Self-Help (Self-defeat?):

Marty Nachel, Home Brewing for Dummies, 391.

 

Conversion Narratives :: A Very Belated Update

Now that I’ve finished grading the final exams from my first course as a “real” professor (not the “actually paid” kind, but the “actually standing at the front of the classroom” kind), I’ve got a bit of time to talk about the conversion narratives assignment for which I requested help about six months ago (see the previous post).

First things first. The books that I settled on, after so much assistance from friends were:

o      Sara Miles, Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion (New York: Ballantine Books, 2007).

o      Augustine of Hippo, Confessions [Read books 1-10, skip 11-13] translated by Maria Boulding (New York: New City Press, 2001).

o      Dorothy Day, The Long Loneliness (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1997).

o      Shusako Endo, Silence, translated by William Johnston (New York: Taplinger, 1967).

o      Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha, translated by Susan Bernovsky (New York: Random House, 2008).

o      Simone Weil, Waiting for God, translated by Emma Crawford (New York: Harper Collins, 2001).

o      William L. Andrews, ed. Sisters of the Spirit: Three Black Women’s Autobiographies of the Nineteenth Century (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1986).

I was really pleased with the way that the whole project turned out. While some of the students had a hard time with their texts (predictably, those who were coming to Augustine for the first time), the vast majority of them brought some insightful analysis to the stories that they encountered. It was a lot of work to write prompts for each of the books that would lead the students into the sort of critical thinking I was hoping for, but that work seemed to have paid off in some really great papers.

The best part of the project, however, was the class discussion day. Regardless, it would have been hopeless to expect the students to have read anything else the day that their papers were due, but I wanted to give the students an opportunity to share the results of their hard work anyway. So I had the students sit down in groups with the others who had read the same text and share their own unique arguments; Is Simone Weil “religious” or “spiritual” in her intense devotion to Catholicism and simultaneous refusal of baptism? Does narrating your conversion through the metaphor of hunger and filling rather than pollution and cleansing  (as does Sara Miles), and participating in Communion prior to being baptized change the actual experience of being converted? The students had some productive disagreements here.

They then split up into groups with students who had read different texts, in order to summarize the plot of their story and reprise their own argument once again. At the end of this group work, having encountered a wildly diverse range of “conversions”, we were able to have a great conversation as a class about what takes place in a conversion, and more fundamentally, about the boundaries of what counts as  “religion” and “religious” and what it takes to cross those boundaries.

There are a number of things that I’ll change as I teach the course again this Spring, but this assignment will remain as a central element.

crowd-sourcing :: women’s conversion narratives

For the introductory theology course I’m teaching this fall, I’m not using any single text for the day-to-day readings because no text could be quite so impossibly broad as the range of issues I’m hoping to get into (from historical-criticism to liberation theology), and because I’d rather have the students read the nitty-gritty “real thing” on these issues  than some 30,000 foot overview. But, I think that it’s important to work through a whole book as well. So one of the assignments will have the students read a literary or biographical conversion narrative (somewhat broadly conceived) and write a fairly lengthy review essay on the questions raised.

The students will have the opportunity to choose between a range of texts, and I want there to be a pretty broad representation. At this point, here are the texts I have listed for them to choose from:

Augustine of Hippo, Confessions [books 1-10]

David James Duncan, The River Why

Shusako Endo, Silence

Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha,

Mother Teresa, Come Be My Light

Malcolm X, The Autobiography of Malcolm X

I would like to add another text (and perhaps replace Duncan, though it’s a phenomenal book), one authored by a woman, because the list is a little dude-heavy at the moment. Being thoroughly embedded in an androcentric/patriarchal atmosphere, I have not been able to think of another good woman’s conversion narrative (preferably penned by a woman) that I’d like to include, and so I’m asking for help. Do you have any that come to mind?

frozen by demons :: a new excuse for failing to finish your reading

I wanted to pass along this gem from Evagrius of Pontus, a fourth-century Christian whose life took him from his native Cappadocia (where he was friends with Basil of Caesarea and a close associate of Gregory of Nazianzus) to the desert of Egypt. He fled to the desert to avoid temptation after falling in love with a married woman. Also, he had trouble staying awake while reading.

“There are certain impure demons who always sit in front of those engaged in reading and try to seize their mind, often taking pretexts from the divine scriptures themselves and ending in evil thoughts. It sometimes happens that they force readers to yawn more than they are accustomed and they instill a very deep sleep quite different from usual sleep. Whereas some of the brothers have imagined that it is in accordance with an unintelligible and natural reaction, I for my part have learned this by frequent observation; they touch the eyelids and the entire head, cooling it with their own body for the bodies of the demons are very cold and like ice; and the head feels as if it is being sucked by a cupping glass with a rasping sound. They do this in order to draw to themselves the heat that lies within the cranium, and then the eyelids, relaxed by the moisture and cold, slip over the pupils of the eyes. Often in touching myself I have found my eyelids fixed like ice and my entire face numb and shivering. Natural sleep however normally warms bodies and renders the faces of healthy people rosy, as one can learn from experience itself. But the demons provoke unnatural and prolonged yawning, and they make themselves small enough to touch the interior of the mouth.”

From On Thoughts, chapter 33.

Jacques Derrida, Gregory of Nyssa, and the Human-Animal Distinction in the Song of Songs

Just yesterday I received the welcome news that my submission to the Animals and Religion consultation at the 2010 AAR in Atlanta was accepted. I’ll be presenting the paper at a session entitled “Thinking Animals, Rethinking Theology: Abrahamic and Indigenous Traditions.” I’m very excited for the opportunity to present my thoughts and looking forward to the ensuing conversation. The proposal which was accepted is below:

Though it is an undeniably erotic text, Solomon’s Song of Songs is also undeniably strange. In large part, the text’s strangeness is attributable to its enthusiastically zoological imagery, which strikes contemporary readers as anything but erotic. The very metaphors praising the bodily beauty of a woman and a man and celebrating their union simultaneously release an abundance of flapping, leaping, grazing animals into the space between two naked human bodies. These animals—doves, deer, sheep, horses, goats—pervade the imagery of the Song to the extent that animal bodies are caught up in the erotic interaction of the two lovers and animal eyes seem to peek through every look of longing.

The fourth-century Christian bishop Gregory of Nyssa found this canonical text no less strange than we do on account of both its sexually explicit content and its disconcerting animal metaphors. Nevertheless, Gregory lauds the Song of Songs above every other text in Scripture for setting forth the profoundest wisdom for prayer and ascetic contemplation. Gregory’s reading depends upon a powerful sublating hermeneutic which transforms the Song’s erotic energy into the driving impulse for a spiritual ascent. His Commentary on the Song of Songs presents the fruit of an assiduous attention to the many figurative valences latent in every image and a careful effort to explain the manner in which the cumulative effect of this imagery elicits the reader’s desire for God. Remarkably, however, despite Gregory’s vigorous distaste for any carnal understanding of the Song—readily visible in oft-repeated warnings—the animals of the Song populate Gregory’s higher meaning no less pervasively than its literal level, and indeed take on an even greater theological role.

Reading Jacques Derrida’s The Animal That Therefore I am alongside Gregory’s Commentary on the Song of Songs provides a critical lens through which to explore the human-animal distinction in Gregory’s theology. Derrida’s text traces an “immense disavowal” of the animal in the Western philosophical tradition wherein all the differences between animals are discarded in favor of a single catch-all category—“the animal.” Politically, the maneuver to sum up all animals in a single term underwrites a notion of human exceptionalism (“the human” over against “the animal”), and justifies regimes of maltreatment, modification, restrictive confinement, over-production, and slaughter. Derrida summons Descartes, Kant, Lacan, Heidegger, and Levinas as exemplary theoretical offenders.

There is no shortage of reasons to see Gregory’s allegorical treatment of animals in the Song of Songs as part and parcel of this same trajectory of disavowal—the impulse to spiritual sublation has rarely worked to the advantage of animals. Nevertheless, Gregory’s relationship to animals is more complex than would initially appear. I argue that although Gregory labors to disavow “the animal” (as a single bounded set) in his interpretation of the Song of Songs, particular animals continue to creep back into his text through gaps in the fence he erects, troubling the purity that Gregory is laboring toward. The re-entry of the animal into Gregory’s text, I argue, is inevitable and necessary, not simply because of the presence of animal metaphors within the text under his consideration, but more significantly, because of the ineradicable function of (animal) desire within Gregory’s understanding of theological exegesis and spiritual ascent. Thus, Gregory adopts the blurred lines between humans and animals in the text of the Song of Songs within his own spiritual exegesis because doing so sheds light on the contemplative path of the Christian in a way that would be impossible were his disavowal of the animal more thorough.

The first part of my paper examines the complex of shame, exposure, modesty, nakedness, and clothing (one of many lines along which the human-animal distinction is cut, and a theme central to Derrida’s text), querying the nakedness of the bride in the Song relative to the nakedness of the animals which mediate the description of her body. I ask whether the bride is naked as an animal, naked as an animal, or actually naked at all. Gregory’s squeamish allegorizing hastily weaves a cover for the bride’s nudity, but she is still exposed in and through the animal imagery that describes her contours.

The second part focuses on the distinguishing human “proper” of reason and speech (logos for Gregory). While Gregory differentiates humans from animals (the alogoi) on the basis of their capacity for reason, in the economy of Gregory’s theological exegesis and in his account of spiritual ascent, reason is actually secondary to the faculty of desire that pervades human and animal life alike. The text of the Song of Songs functions anagogically (that is, one layer of its meaning leads the reader toward God) precisely because it incites a propulsive desire within the reader that motivates and focuses her contemplation. Likewise, on the path of spiritual ascent, the Christian’s ever-increasing desire for God carries him beyond any comprehension of reason or language. Thus, for Gregory, (animal) desire finally outstrips discursive rationality in its theological importance, calling into the question the purity of his initial distinction between the human and the animal.

The third part takes up an ethical/political question from Derrida’s text: What happens to the fraternity among brothers (or alternately, relations in human society) when an animal enters the room? I argue that the presence of animals in the text of the Song is what launches Gregory’s theological interpretation in the first place (because the literal reading remains woefully inadequate). Paradoxically, it is the pervasiveness of animal imagery within this erotic poem that opens the text up for an allegorical reading that excises the “animal” content of straightforward sexuality. Thus, on Gregory’s reading, the bride and bridegroom loosen their sexually passionate embrace, and instead are bound up in the intimacies of prayer, forgiveness, and spiritual transformation. The presence of the animal in the text marks an excess that allows for the attempted erasure of the “animal” in the human. Finally, however, insofar as Gregory’s disavowal is incomplete, his gesture imaginatively endues animals with spiritual agency—the dove with her longing eye and the deer leaping across the hills in pursuit of the divine.

In the end, Gregory cannot banish animals from his interpretation of the Song while at the same time sublating the generative power of its metaphors. Gregory succeeds only in folding the animal into the human; redeeming the animal by directing its energy. Equally, the obverse is true, that the human has been folded into the animal whose drives are powerful and determinative. At any rate, what remains are spiritual animals—with equal stress falling on both words. Over the course of Gregory’s Commentary on the Song of Songs the “proper” traits of humans and animals (nakedness, shame, clothing, reason, language, passion, desire) lose the precision whereby they mark a hermetic and exclusive distinction between animals and “the human.” The animals creep in the backdoor of Gregory’s commentary, undermining his disavowal by showing themselves to be integral to the highest human good that he can conceive.

Apologies

The dearth of posts recently is regrettable. I’ve got a few lined up on the bond between eco-theology and humanism that I need to get around to editing and posting, but time has been shorter than usual as of late.

A good part of this is due to the fact that it looks as if Carolyn and I will be moving home-base from Albany down to NYC this summer. This will be a welcome step towards ending our bi-local routine over the past two years, consolidating our lives into a single apartment. This is exciting, but consuming lots of my time and spare thoughts (of which I have all too few in the first place!)

A Hymn for Holy Week

Go to Dark Gethsemane

Go to dark Gethsemane, all who feel the tempter’s pow’r

your Redeemer’s conflict see. Watch with him one bitter hour;

turn not from his griefs away; learn from Jesus Christ to pray.

Follow to the judgment hall, view the Lord of life arraigned;

oh, the wormwood and the gall! Oh, the pangs his soul sustained!

Shun no suff’ring, shame, or loss; learn from him to bear the cross.

Calv’ry’s mournful mountain climb; there, adoring at his feet,

mark that miracle of time, God’s own sacrifice complete.

“It is finished!” hear him cry; learn from Jesus Christ to die.

Early hasten to the tomb where they laid his breathless clay;

all is solitude and gloom. Who has taken him away?

Christ is ris’n! He meets our eyes. Savior, teach us so to rise.

— James Montgomery

Jenson on the Origin of Trinity as Doctrine

Reading Jenson, I came across this bit and thought it a particularly helpful glimpse of the development of Trinitarian teaching. I’d tried to gesture toward something of this sort in comments on an earlier post.

“Typical of the titles is ‘Lord.’ Initially the disciples’ unproblematic form of address for their rabbi, it was naturally resumed after the Resurrection. But now their Lord was enthroned at the Father’s right hand and was the giver of the Spirit. In these circumstances, the address could not but resonate with the Bible’s use of ‘Lord’ for God himself—to whom is one speaking when one says ‘Lord’ to the heavens? This resonance is itself the doctrine. Only when Greek theology appears as interlocutor will or need it be asked what kind of ‘being’—divine, human, or mediating—the risen Jesus must have to be truly addressed as Lord.”

Robert W. Jenson, Systematic Theology: The Triune God (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 92.