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Category: Public Theology

Public theology explores how Christianity can work for the common good. It is concerned with translating religious virtues, ideals, and values into a secular framework for the public square.

Jesus Christ: Divine Healer but Mediocre Carpenter

I love the meme above! So much so, that it inspired me to write this blog. This will be different from my usual posts that tend to focus on theology, technology and science. Instead, I offer here a personal reflection. It is not inspired in a biblical passage per se but on the idea suggested above. Namely, that Jesus was a mediocre carpenter. Judging by the chair and Joseph’s thoughts, Jesus decision to go to ministry had more to it than simply being the son of God.

An enduring claim of Christian tradition is that Jesus is fully human and fully divine. Why is that? The Church fathers did not arrive at that overnight. It was borne out of a long process that included disputes, prayer, endless councils and a few heretics that helped steer Christian theology towards truth. What is unclear, however, is how this dual nature worked together in Jesus’ time on earth. On that question, the only issue the church was concerned with was to state that Jesus could have sinned but did not.

Furthermore, the Gospel writers don’t help on this question either. In all four gospels we get very little about Jesus’ life prior to his ministry. Apart from birth narratives and few childhood anecdotes, we really get nothing from that formative time of Jesus life. This leaves us today to sheer speculation. That is what I proceed to next.

What does it mean to be divine-human?

Setting the question of sinfulness aside, I would like to speculate precisely about that period when Jesus was , between the age of 12 and 30 years of age, not fully into his calling but maturing as a person. I want to take the suggestion from the meme above, namely that Jesus was a mediocre carpenter, while still holding faithful to the church confession that he was both divine and human. Does a mediocre carpenter fit into this picture? I think that depends a lot about how we think of humanity and divinity.

My first impulse for many years was simply to reject this possibility. In my mind, sinless humanity meant perfection. That is, it wasn’t just that Jesus resisted temptations for cardinal sins but that he was literally perfect. Hence, I would have rejected such suggestion and instead would have speculated that the son of God was an excellent carpenter. Probably, the best of his kind who ran a successful business only to leave it all for ministry when the time came. He knew all along carpentry was not his “calling” but because of his perfect nature, he could not help himself but do an excellent job.

Because we have no way of knowing, this could very well be true. Yet, now I wonder if my previous assumptions were actually undermining Jesus’ humanity. Does a divine-human nature really mean perfection not just in doing what is right but also in ability, talent and competence? Could God be well represented by a lousy carpenter? Could the very idea of perfection be a false assumption of God’s nature?

The Mediocre Carpenter

Surprisingly, now the thought of a mediocre carpenter actually draws me closer to Jesus. Let me explain. First, for full disclosure, I am terribly challenged with manual labor. No, this is not an excuse to get out of hard work. I really suck at it. I am grateful to live in an age where one can make a living with their brain rather than their hands. Also, it goes without saying that I admire all those enlightened human beings who have a gift of crafting things with their hands. In an age of computers and automation, their gift is being undermined which is a sad development.

Yet, the thought of Jesus as a mediocre carpenter is not just appealing because I can relate to sucking at carpentry. To me it has a deeper meaning. It means that the human-divine being was truly subject to limitations. This was not just a statement of basic human needs. It included limitations in ability, talent and competence. It means that God was comfortable inhabiting a less than perfect body and mind.

Furthermore, it could suggest that Jesus did not always know his calling in ministry. Maybe, he too had to struggle through the arduous road of maturity that we all go through. Maybe he started off thinking he would be a good carpenter like his dad only to see God call him through his failure to be a good one. This also sounds a lot like my own journey towards calling. One where failure was more clarifying than success, pain more profitable than joy.

Human Frailty is not a Sin

My point here is not to paint a Jesus that looked like me, sharing my own experiences. While that could have its value, it undermines the deeper truth of this reflection. The mediocre carpenter is not simply an image to make us feel good about ourselves. It is a step towards de-coupling divinity from perfection. It is a step further in taking seriously God’s act of incarnation. It was not just in the humble manger but also in the limited human being that God chose to dwell.

To me this amplifies the message of God’s salvation through Jesus. The point of the cross was not simply to show our dependency on God to fix us and this world even as both are part of salvation. It was also to include an affirmation that human frailty is good enough for God. Frailty, limitation, imperfections are not sin. They are part of nature that we learn to accept and learn from. They are the very conduits for growth and even revelation of who God is.

This week, as you are working from home or homeschooling your kids (or doing both at the same time), remember the mediocre carpenter. In the times where you mess up, lose our cool, grow discouraged or simply gets gripped with anxiety – know that the mediocre carpenter is also the divine healer. He likes to meet us in our worse, is comfortable with our frailty and sanctifies it with his divinity.

He also says that it is ok to mess up every now and then.

Looking for the Bright Side in the Corona Pandemic

I would like to step aside from my usual lane of writing to reflect on how the Corona pandemic is affecting us in unexpected ways. As I write this from the US, my kids will be homeschooling starting on Monday while myself and many other co-workers will be working from home. To be fair, I already worked from home but having the kids at home with limited choices of public places to go will certainly be a change in routine. I am also blessed to have my wife be a stay-home mom which makes our change in routine less dramatic.

Yet, I can only imagine how many other families, especially those where both parents work are coping with this new situation. Rarely have I seen a global event have such wide-spread routine-braking impact like this one. Certainly local communities have experienced much worse tragedies, yet, their impact was more localized.

With that said, I would like to join others in the blogosphere who are choosing to shed light on the upside of this crisis. By doing so, I don’t mean to trivialize the suffering of those affected by the virus or the disruptions stemming from it. Quite the opposite, I would hope that what I say here will signal that their suffering is not in vain. Maybe this is the crisis that will bring us together in surprisingly beneficial ways.

Grateful for Technology

I am thankful for the technology available to us in this time. Those facing the Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918 were not as lucky. Over tens of millions died and millions more had their lives severely disrupted. I am grateful for communication technologies that have allowed news of this virus to spread quickly. Government and other institutions that undergird our society had the ability to coordinate with some lead time.

In spite of the misinformation spread through social media, this vehicle also brought quality and accurate information to the general public. “Flattening the curve,” a term only familiar to statisticians, soon became popular jargon to explain why we need to practice “social distancing.” In fact, many of the voluntary closures are not result of top-down management mandates but the collective action of an intelligently informed population. We quickly learned that to love our neighbor, especially the elderly, meant to stay away physically.

Furthermore, I am grateful for screen and phone technologies that now allow a large portion of the population to work or study remotely. Businesses, schools and government organization were able to quickly pivot to a remote workforce diminishing the already pervasive impact in the economy. To be fair, it is still very likely the global economy will enter a recession but it could have been much worse. As many become homeschoolers and remote workers, society does not have to stop completely.

The Advent of Global Cooperation

Rarely have I seen such display of global cooperation as in this crisis. Governments are talking to each other, businesses are offering paid-sick leave even when not required, schools are offering lunches even in days they are closed and neighbors are offering to buy groceries for those who cannot do it for themselves.

In American politics, we have experienced even a limited time of bipartisan cooperation to address this crisis. Corona is bringing together even the left-most Democrat with the right-most Republicans. They are realizing that their petty differences must recede when our whole livelihood is at stake. Certainly the federal response to the crisis could have been much more swift and effective but fortunately I see a society rising to shore up for the deficiencies of governmental action.

Even more encouraging has been the responsible self-quarantining of high-profile leaders, showing by example what we can all do to mitigate the Corona virus’ impact. From Justin Trudeau to Senator Ted Cruz, leaders are stepping up with their personal lives encouraging many to follow suit. Furthermore, Delta CEO announced that he would forgo his salary for 6 months in order to contain layoffs from this crisis. These are all examples of leadership that are worth celebrating.

Hope in Unexpected Places

Many have now heard about the singing in the streets in quarantined towns in Italy. People who are now confined to their homes found unexpected ways to show solidarity to each other. They can’t meet but their voices can connect them through empty space. It only highlights the fact that we humans are wired for community. We may often fight but we can’t live isolated from each other.

Apparently, Earth is grateful for this virus too. CO2 transmissions have fallen drastically globally as people self-quarantine or and avoid public gatherings. In a surprising twist, a deadly virus to humans is proving to be life giving to our beloved dirt home. My wife even speculated that this virus was simply Mother Nature screaming at us to emit less pollution and slow down global warming. She may well be right. This may be Earth’s plot to stop our insatiable pursuit of destructive technological progress.

Indeed, the Corona pandemic will continue to affect us in unexpected and enduring ways. Above all, this crisis is forcing us to stop, rest and do less. It could have paradigm shifting effects in how we relate to each other especially through cyberspace. I am particularly curious on its impact in the thousands of churches that will be holding services online in this period of social distancing. Could cyber connection become a dominant form of communicating ideas and enacting rituals? Could virtual church become part of mainstream rather than a fringe movement?

It is too early to say. Yet, my encouragement to all reading is to look for the opportunities arising from this crisis. Life will be different for a while but it may very well be a lot more beautiful than you expected.

Learning to Breathe and Stretch: Yoga as a Spiritual Practice

Greatly encouraged by my lovely wife, I decided to start taking Yoga classes in the local gym this year. I must say my first classes were long painful lessons in my body’s inflexibility. Yet, as I stuck with it, I come to enjoy it and sense an impact not just in my physical but also mental and spiritual health. In this blog, I reflect on how practicing Yoga as little as twice a week has come to be an important practice in my spiritual walk.

I Suck at Yoga and that’s Good

For starters, I am not the athletic type. I would much rather read than go to the gym. Yes, I am a bona fide nerd who realized I was more than a head on a stick. Recently, I’ve been reluctantly taking on physical exercise because I know it is good for me. It feels like eating raw vegetables. As I get older, I realize that sedentary behaviors won’t help me live long. Also, I come to enjoy the endorphins that get released after an exercise session.

It goes without saying that my flexibility is fairly limited. In class, doing some of the poses move muscles I didn’t even know I had. Furthermore, I still cannot tell left from right without looking at my hands. So, when the teacher describes the next pose, it might as well be Greek. I get by through watching more advanced practitioners beside me. Often times, I find myself turning right when everybody else it turning left. That is when I delicately and slowly correct my position.

Needless to say, it is a humbling experience to join a class where people are lot more advanced than I am. As I am straining to balance or simply stretch, I am surrounded by master Yogis who turn their bodies into pretzels. That is when I think to myself: “Are you fu&%$ing kidding me?” Yes, lately most of my spiritual experiences have been accompanied by under-breath cussing.

I say this not just to amuse but to highlight the fact that doing something I suck at is actually a good thing. It serves to humble me while also destroying my illusions of competency and self-reliance. Slowly, I am learning to embrace the suckiness as I drench my mat with sweat while others stretch much further with little effort. Besides, I am not setting out to be a master yogi. I just want to learn to breathe.

Yoga is not Just Exercise

I suspected that there was more to Yoga then uncomfortable stretches. This only became more clear as I started practicing it. The class starts and ends with mindfulness exercises where we are quieting ourselves and focused on breathing. This is no “transcendental meditation” but it is baby steps to help us connect mind and body. As mentioned above, now that this nerd is discovering that he is more than a head, connecting with the body is becoming an important centering activity. It is so easy to ignore our bodies are when we forget that we are above all breathing beings.

Often times I have experienced a strong sense of peace and calm after a class. I’ll move slower, be less worried and at times become a better human to my wife and kids. This has been a great antidote for the anxiety I feel on the weekends. Usually, my week is intense between family, work, reading and writing. Yet, when the weekend comes, I feel a bit lost not knowing what to do with myself. Hence, doing Yoga on Saturday mornings has really helped smooth out anxiety and help structure the weekend.

I also sense that the effects of it lingers. First, I usually feel sore for the rest of the day but it is a satisfying soreness. It is like I pride myself in making these muscles work. At times, I have also noticed being more aware of what is going on emotionally with myself and even be more present. For someone who often lives in the clouds of ideas and future plans, anything that helps me be in the present is a big positive.

Walking into Uncharted Territory

When I wonder why I didn’t try this before, I know exactly why. In my evangelical upbringing, Yoga was considered a dangerous practice from a competing religion. What I experience today could scarcely classify as that. My Yoga teacher does not emphasize its Hindu roots. Just like Chinese food in America, it is a westernized, secularized, watered down version of the original Hindu practice.

Yet, regardless of that, I still catch myself feeling jealous by the fact that it came from a different religion than Christianity. Why couldn’t our traditions figure this out? Why did we insist on head-knowledge practices that do little for the body? There is historical precedent for meditation in the practices of Middle Age Christian mystics. Yet, that is not the same as full body practice that helps connect mind, body and spirit. In view of this realization, I wish I had discovered this earlier.

In this spiritual journey, sometimes I am finding the answers outside of the gates of familiar Christian teachings. I don’t see this is an endorsement of Hinduism as a religions but a recognition that they know something we don’t. I would be spiritually poorer if I ignored their contribution and wisdom.

In all sincerity, I found that practicing Yoga has made me a healthier human being. In some ways, it has also helped my relationship with God. As I become more self-aware, I am also better able to hear the Spirit’s voice who often whispers quietly. That whisper can often be drawn out by the noises around and inside me. It is in learning to slow down and breath again that I am also finding my way back to the Giver of breath.

Defining Public Theology for a New Decade (Part II – Moving Outward)

In the previous blog, I described the move inward exploring the first part of the following statement:

Public theology is prayerful reflection flowing out of love of God for the world as a way to instill hope and longing for the good planet.

The “public theology is prayerful reflection flowing out of love of God” section spells out the move inward through contemplation, prayer and reflection. It defines not just what it is but also its motivation, which in this case it is divine love, or charity. In this blog, I want to explore the second portion of the description above that traces a path outward towards our planet.

For the World

One of the most overlooked failures of evangelical (and mainline to a certain extent) theology in the last century is its inability to connect people with the world they live in. For the most part, it has built its main argument on the premise that we live in a fallen world beyond hope of repair. It does that so in the second breath, it can say that God is the only solution. In other words, it exacerbates the problem so it can better sell a solution. After all, a world that is intrinsically good needs no saving.

By building its argument as a sales pitch for the salvation of the soul, Christian theology left a legacy of disengagement. It has often produced disciples as the saying goes: ‘too heavenly minded to be any earthly good.’ It is great for filling stadiums and auditoriums but terrible for producing civic engagement. This is not to say that Christians in general, and evangelicals more in specific, have not engaged in productive action to help the common good. It is, however, to recognize that this came in spite of not because of this prevailing ethos that narrowly focuses on after-life fire insurance.

Oftentimes, civic engagement was a means to the goal of preaching salvation. Hence, public theology for this new decade, must re-define and re-orient this ethos of service away from being a means to being an end. Instead, it should see serving the world as the goal, a tangible incarnated reflection of our worship to the Creator. Because God ‘so loved’ the world, we, in turn, love the world too.

The world here is not just human beings but our whole planet, everything about this rock in our galaxy. Hence, we love this planet enough to work with people from all faiths to address human-generated climate change. We need to include notions of sustainability in our concept of holiness. The righteous person is the one who not only cares for their human neighbor but also for the global neighborhood. If we fail at loving the ground we live on, loving other humans may be a mute point if our planet cannot sustain life.

Of course, turning our gaze to the world also means loving other humans. I believe this we demonstrate this best by how we love both the marginalized and the very people that oppose us. Let’s also be honest: to be opposed for supporting or failing to challenge systems that oppress the poor, the different and the stranger is not the type of persecution we should be after. Yet, regardless of how or why we are opposed, loving our adversaries is at the heart of the Christian faith.

As a Way to Instill Hope and Longing

As I mentioned in the last blog, we do not live out this public theology without expecting to persuade others. Yes, I dare say, we do look for followers. We do seek to evangelize and to persuade those outside our institutional gates to consider their ways. We proclaim a message to build the common good also praying for metanoia – change of minds.

Yet, this is no longer a sales pitch to ask them to make a public confession of allegiance to our savior, nor an appeal for them to join our community and be baptized. If that happens, then we rejoice and receive them with open and hospitable arms. However, we aim for a much more audacious transformation. We dare, and are naive enough to believe that the whole Earth will be filled with the glory of God. That is, we dare believe the world can and will get better. The glory of God is Shalom, all living beings co-existing in mutual love and harmony. All living beings working to preserve, improve and develop this earth towards a better future.

Words are empty and often ineffective conduits to produce hope and longing. That is why this public theology must transcend mere proclamation and translate into concrete actions that in fact instill hope for a better world. It should manifest itself in grand visible gestures that run counter the narrative of death and disillusion propagated by our screens. It also happens in small personal acts of sacrifice. Small but enduring acts that demonstrate that we love those near and far well. Acts that express that we love this earth well.

For the Good Planet

The word “good” is often associated with the inferior option of excellent. That is not what I mean here. Goodness here (with a capital G) has to do with a vision of a planet where life flourishes, justice rolls down like rivers and all creatures live in harmony. To me, that is what it means to work for the common Good. It is not simply a flimsy notion of seeking compromise at all costs. Instead, it entails a vigorous negotiation in which all parties involved come out better than they started. Furthermore, I believe it is inspired in the vision of the Jewish prophet Isaiah as demonstrated in the painting below and in the quote right under it:

Edward Hicks (American, 1780-1849). The Peaceable Kingdom, ca. 1833-1834

In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together;
    the leopard will lie down with the baby goat.
The calf and the yearling will be safe with the lion,
    and a little child will lead them all.
The cow will graze near the bear.
The cub and the calf will lie down together.
The lion will eat hay like a cow. The baby will play safely near the hole of a cobra.
    Yes, a little child will put its hand in a nest of deadly snakes without harm.
Nothing will hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain,
    for as the waters fill the sea,
    so the earth will be filled with people who know the Lord

Isaiah 11:6-9 New Living Translation

Isaiah envisions a world in which reconciliation is not just a human affair but one that encompasses all creatures. The enmity that was the modus operandi for the survival of the fittest gives way to cooperation and solidarity. It is the belief that we do better together than divided; produce more when in peace than in war; and flourish brighter when cooperation replaces domination. That is at the heart of Isaiah’s vision – a world where all creation peacefully coexist.

This is not a utopian vision of human progress. It is a radical, and even illogical, hope that God can use anything and everything to the flourishing of life in this planet and beyond. It is not only a hope of an event in the distant future but a patient longing that each day we inch closer to this reality.

To me, that is the vision of the good planet: one where life flourishes and love is the rule.

Do we dare believe in the Jewish prophet’s vision?

Defining Public Theology for a New Decade (Part I: Moving Inward)

In the previous two blogs, I cleared the way for defining theology by first explaining what is not and then emphasizing the importance of location. These entries serve as a necessary preamble to the definition provided at the end of the second. In this blog, I will break down this definition to further flesh out what it means. By doing so, I intend to establish some markers of what I think is the key task of public theology for our time.

Let me begin by re-stating the definition:

Public theology is prayerful reflection flowing out of love of God for the world as a way to instill hope and longing for the good planet.

Public Theology

Why add a qualifier to theology? As I demonstrated in the previous blog, the context from which theology emerges is crucial. It will define the audience, concerns and scope of the task. In this case, by calling “public”, it becomes clear that this is speaking beyond the institutional church and even beyond the Christian community. It means that its language must transcend traditional Christian symbols or at least make an attempt to translate them to a common language.

Furthermore, it aims to enhance the common good. In that way, it cannot be sectarian or simply exist to support or strengthen the church’s institutional influence in society. If it extends the Christian church influence as a byproduct, then that is a bonus. It cannot be, however, its primary goal. Yet, it must assume that by working towards the common good, most will benefit, including the Christian community.

Consequently, it should communicate through humble persuasion as one voice in a larger dialogue. The humility means that it must be willing to listen and learn from others believing that God often speaks through those outside the Christian community. That humility should not diminish its desire to persuade. If it is to speak in the public square, the theologian must believe that what they say is worth listening and even following. That is, it must not be void of conviction, but instead should seek to invite others into a new understanding.

Prayerful

Prayer is not a monologue or just speaking to an “imaginary friend”. It is, at its essence, a communal act. While one can pray alone in a room, when the individual prays, they are never alone but are supported by others through a human chain that connects them through time and geography. Beyond that, prayer is about accessing deeper sentiments in silence. It is about a turn inwards and a letting go of thoughts and rationality. It is an invitation to operate below consciousness.

Yet, prayer is not always about quiet reverence. It can also be about pleading loudly with others in lament, protest or even desperation. Many in the North are not accustomed to this type of disruptive prayer yet our brothers and sisters in the South practice that daily. For them, it is simply a way of life.

Moreover, prayer, within the Christian tradition, entails believing in a personal God that is invested in the fate of this world but also transcends it. It is trusting in a God that both suffers with but also rescues his creation. Because of that, prayer also invites us to both suffer with and take action on behalf of the poor, oppressed and the lost. When we act like the God we pray to, we also pray.

Reflection

To develop theology, one must take this prayerful life and engage it in reflection. In age where information flickers in front of us at light speed, reflection is about slowing down and thinking deeply. It is about pondering on intractable questions that plague the community. While it includes personal reflection, it transcends the individual and tends to be others-oriented. Even as we consider our own struggles we do so in the hope that our reflection may help others who are facing similar struggles.

This process of prayerful reflection cannot stay in one’s individual interiority but must flow out through writing, speaking or artistic expression. The reflection is not complete until sincerely and effectively communicated to others in the public commons. The communicator lives in the tension of urgency and limited understanding. There is a constant sense of unfinished task in crafting the message along with a persistent call to speak out. They communicate as they gain clarity and as events call for responses.

Flowing out of Love of God

The animus of the prayerful reflection described above must be love. As the Apostle Paul reminds us, all the work we do without love would be meaningless. Because the word love in English lost its meaning through multiple applications, it is important first to define what it is. Here we borrow the Greek term agape, often translated as charity. Charity is a self-less love that puts other’s benefit before our own. It is actually a higher goal than loving one like oneself. I also believe we humans cannot do this exclusively even as we strive for it continuously. It is, therefore, a transhuman type of love.

Hence why in the definition I speak of “love of God,” using the multiple meanings of the preposition “of” in that sentence. First, it is a love that emanates from God, from a Being that is beyond human limitations. Second, it is love directed to God as a response to God’s love to us humans. It is God loving God in and through us. Just sit and ponder on that. It does not make sense at face value forcing us to go deeper than a logical understanding.

Another point I want to make is that how we do theology matters. We must be often vigilant of our motivations and passions animating our action. This does not mean we must “feel” love every time we do theology only that we often remember why we do what we do. Losing sight of motivations that do not flow out of love is often where we get lost. The how and the what are important in this activity.

Conclusion

Let me end here for part 1. So far, I have reviewed how public theology is prayerful reflection flowing out of love of God. There is so much more that could be said but the paragraphs above act as a starting point to this definition. In the next blog, I’ll go over the remaining parts, summing up a complete sketch of a vision for a non-clerical, Christian, earthly-grounded theology for our time.

What is Theology? (Part II: Location Matters)

In my previous blog, I started on this path to define theology by first outlining what is not. In short, while associated with ministry, biblical studies and doctrine, theology cannot be confined to any of these. You would think I would be ready to define it but there are few more items to clear before getting to that. Before I risk losing you with a long preamble, let me jump right into it.

The Question of Context

For many centuries, the underwriting assumption was that theology was absolute and universal. That is, it spoke of a timeless truth that could be expressed uniformly in every context. In the late 19th century, there was even an attempt to make theology an exact science based on facts. The idea was to paint theology in a frame of objectivity in order to prove its legitimacy. While this eventually proved to be a misguided enterprise, some segments of the Christian church especially the more conservative parts of evangelicalism, still hold on to that notion. In part this stemmed from the need to defend theology from the challenges coming from science and historical criticism.

if theology is not Bible interpretation, or doctrine, then it no longer needs that rigid legitimacy that these theologians sought. In other words, because theology is a solidly human endeavor it has the freedom to make mistakes, postulate tentative ideas and even push the boundaries of Christian knowledge into what in the past would be classified as heretical. By dissociating itself from institutional obligations, theology can be a rigorous but free pursuit of knowledge and understanding of God, humanity and all of creation.

Under this new terms, theology does not aim to be objective but instead to start with an awareness of its preconceived assumptions. Hence, there is a “where and a “who” behind every theological proposal. Throughout history, theology was mostly done by middle-aged Euro-descendant clergy. Inevitably, that shaped and formed the content and transmission of theological thinking. For one, it often meant that theologians were writing for their peers who were male clergy like them. This theology was then transmitted as divine knowledge and often times used as a tool to legitimize the authority of the group that created it.

This who and where (and when) of theology can be aggregated under the term of location. All theology is developed in a milieu of culture, geography, socio-economic and political factors, namely, its location. Theological thinking, pursuing the knowledge of God, occurs in the theater of human existence. Inevitably that experience shapes, guides and forms the message.

This earthiness of theology is not a reason for concern but joy. It celebrates the gift of incarnation, when God decided to make a home among us, sanctifying all of the material world. That gives us the confidence that even our human thoughts about God can somehow be divinely inspired.

If in the 19th century, the aim was to achieve a pure truth the emanated from a perfect God, a 21st century planet steeped in ecological crisis yearns for a theology made of star dust, sweat and blood.

Introducing Public Theology

What is the location from which theology emerges from today? While the institutional church will continue to influence and nurture theological thinking, I believe the location of theology is moving to the public square. For one, even pastor theologians, developing thinking for their congregation will no longer be free of outside scrutiny. That is, they won’t be able to afford preaching a worldview that is shielded from the societies and communities surrounding that congregation.

In a globally connected age, all theology is public theology.

Public theology happens outside of church walls. Now, that does not mean that it loses its commitment to the Christian faith and its traditions but developed for the human community. That includes but is not limited to the church community. It is not done in opposition of church theology but as a dialogue partner who listens but also speaks truth to it. It proclaim its message in the public square as an invitation to all who are willing to listen.

It does not impose itself as the only legitimate source of truth. However, it is also not afraid to speak truth. It is committed to the Creator and to creation. It is open to science, technology and other religious thinking while still rooted in a Christian foundation.

Above all, it cannot count on legitimacy from the patronage of political power, the longevity of tradition or even by economic value. Instead, it must prove its relevancy by the merits of its claims and also by how it responds to criticism. It is by default open to scrutiny, and must always flow out of love. The last point is crucial. Without love, public theology is a pointless exercise in speculative knowledge.

A Working Definition

After a long preamble that began in the previous blog, I am now ready to finally answer the question: what is (public) theology? More specifically, how do I define it and use it here in this blog. I don’t claim that it is the authoritative definition but a working definition nonetheless. So here it goes:

Public theology is prayerful reflection flowing out of love of God for the world as a way to instill hope and longing for the good planet.

I submit this definition for consideration as a starting point. In the next blogs, I’ll break down this definition to expand on each part.

What is Theology? (Hint: it is NOT what you think)

In my seminary years, I was often amused by people’s reactions when I told them I was studying theology. Some looked confused, others elated, some indifferent while others awkwardly tried to change the subject. The standard assumption was that I was training to be a pastor or a priest. That is true for about half of those who enter seminary today. However, theology is much more than preparing to serve in a Christian church. In this series of blogs, I would like to dive into defining this term in a hope to set a baseline of understanding on the topic while also dispelling some myths.

Christian or Religious

As I step into a multi-cultural cyber space, I cannot start defining theology without first addressing the question of sources. At face value, theology means “the study of God” or the “divine.” This immediately begs the question: which conception of God? Different cultures speak of a higher being through diverse conceptions. We often assign this type of thinking to the broad term of religion. So, is theology religious thinking?

I would contend that it is not. Theology proper as a discipline emerged in the West within the Judeo-Christian school of thought. This is not take away from thinking emerging from other religious contexts. In fact, one could argue that theology has been developed in at least all the Abrahamic faiths (Christianity, Islam and Judaism). For the purposes of this blog, I am narrowing it to Christian theology. It would be disingenuous not to do so when that is the tradition from which I am rooted in and have studied for all my life. This is not a matter of legitimacy but only of narrowing the scope and of expertise.

Does that mean that theology is irrelevant to non-Christians? I would disagree. It is true that Christian and a non-Christian will approach theology differently. However, I firmly believe that theological thinking has something to say to all humanity, regardless of ethnicity or religious background. That also means that it must be open to scrutiny from the outside as well. If cannot be transmitted as an imposition but as a proposal at the common table of humanity. It cannot be the ultimate arbiter of truth in a multicultural public place but it certainly can and should have a voice.

What (Christian) Theology is NOT

Theology is not ministry. As my anecdote above illustrates, the most common misconception is to associate theology narrowly with the pastoral profession. Candidates to the ministry do study theology along with other disciplines. However, studying theology does not in itself prepares one for ministry. At its best, it offers a mental framework that undergirds the work of ministry. It can provide a cohesive worldview from which the minister can operate from. Yet, to do that well, the minister needs practice, mentoring and other skills beyond what theology offers.

If theology is not ministry, one can often confuse it with doctrine (church teaching) or dogma. This is especially true in reformed circles. Doctrine has to do with teachings of the church passed on through time. While not always, they often denote rigid statements of belief which serve primarily to define the boundaries of what is Christian and what is not. Also, they often emerged through the the history of the church when disagreements arose about a new idea or practice.

This is not to say that theology and doctrine are mutually exclusive. Doctrinal statements both spring from and inform theological thinking. The main difference is not as much of content but of orientation. Doctrine is meant to be a conclusion while theology is meant to be a question. That is, doctrines are often developed to settle debates. Theology, and healthy theology at that, aims to continually raise questions. It is constantly evolving and it is often times independent from the institutional church.

Finally, theology is not biblical interpretation. This is a common misconception in the evangelical culture I grew up in. In fact, in some circles, theology was seen as unnecessary given that all we need is in the Bible. That is gross myopic misconception of both what theology is and what the Bible is for. Christian theology often flows from, emerges and in some cases start from the biblical text. However, healthy theology also wrestles with and challenges the text. While the Bible is crucial source for theology it certainly not the only one. They both seek to make sense of the divine and the Bible carries a historical legitimacy and authority that theology often lacks. With that said, it is important to differentiate the two.

Theology is a way to make sense of the Biblical text. In fact, I believe no one approaches the Bible without some theological framework. Theology is the path to connect the dots of areas that the Bible is silent or even where the text transmits diverging ideas. Theology enriches biblical interpretation while the Bible grounds theology.

Conclusion

So far, I have only described what theology is not. You may wonder: “So, what is it?” I will present a working definition in the next blog. Yet, that would have not been possible before addressing the confusion around this term. I hope this short listing of what is not can clear the way for re-discovering theology anew. I firmly believe in re-introducing theology in the public sphere as we move towards a Post-Christendom society (one where Christianity is no longer the official religion). In order to do that, the first step is rejecting assumptions that are often taken for granted. Only then can we start formulating it as a source hope and wisdom for our planet.

AI Theology Goes to Brazil Part 4 – Postmodernity and AI

In part 3, I described my learning experience with holistic ministry in Brazil after meeting with local pastors in Caratinga. In this blog, closing the series on my Brazil trip, I describe in more detail the last talk I gave in the university. Unlike previous talks, this time I was there more to listen than to speak. The event consisted of a panel discussion entitled: “AI and Postmodernity.” The plan was for me to give a 15 minute introduction and then pass on the discussion to a panel of professors.

With such a loaded title, I struggled to develop a suitable introduction. Postmodernity is such a broad term which does not lend itself to simple definitions. Moreover, it is not something usually discussed alongside a technology. The task before me was to elucidate points of correlation that would spark fruitful conversation. The preparation forced me to think deeper about some assumptions inherent in AI technology. After some careful thought, I came up with the following:

  1. All problems have a technological solution
  2. Nature (including humanity) is an algorithm that needs to be decoded
  3. Data reveals the truth and shows the way to solutions
  4. Every activity can and should be optimized

The more I reflect on these, the more I see them informing the development of Artificial Intelligence. Without these assumptions in place, I don’t see AI attracting the attention, funding and research needed to develop further. This is only happening because business leaders, politicians and investors have bought into these claims.

For Postmodernity, I framed the topic around four key implications that I found to be relevant for the panel discussion. They were the following:

  1. The acceptance and celebration of diversity
  2. Skepticism towards institutions or any power structure
  3. Increase in both nihilism and fatalism
  4. Openness to all narratives especially those coming from the margins

Bring the two together, I formulated four questions to spark the discussion among panel participants. Here were the questions:

  1. What is the socio-cultural dominant narrative in Caratinga?
  2. How can AI empower groups in the margins?
  3. How can AI foster human flourishing in the local level?
  4. Could the development of AI be a sign of a return to Modernity?

The panel consisted of professors in engineering, law, computer science, theology and social service. Their answers stayed mostly around themes of ensuring technology is used to enhance not diminish humanity. For example, the Social Service professor expressed the hope that data collection could improve their work with vulnerable populations. The Computer Science professor emphasized the differences between the human brain and AI. The Theology professor talked about the potential of AI for furthering ministry opportunities and addressing income inequality.

When hearing their answers, I sensed a bit of a disconnect on where I expected the discussion to go and where it actually went. While I set up the stage preparing for a more philosophical discussion of AI and postmodernity, the professors mostly avoided such approaches preferring instead to speak of concrete ways they understood that technology could affect their work. The panel ended up being about impact of AI applications rather than how it could change our view of humanity and the world we live in.

This disconnect only highlighted the importance of context. I noticed how my North-American academic context was dominated by deep specialists while the particular academic context I encountered in Brazil was run by generalists. This was not limited to academia but reflected more how the local society worked. People tended to rely on a broader more general level of knowledge rather than simply consulting the specialist for each field at hand.

I realized that such environment made them more receptive to the message of integration that I was proposing. In a place where people tend to rely on generalized knowledge, they already are doing the integration I suggest between faith, science and technology. They may not be doing directly on those topics but are practicing it in other areas.

On the flip side, reliance on a generalized knowledge can hinder more in-depth reflection on a specific topic. So, while I mostly agreed with the professors that technology should not replace humanity, I hoped to hear more nuanced arguments on how that could be the case in their context. I was hoping for new insights of how technology could integrate with their environment to solve deeply entrenched social problems. I was hoping for more layers of “why” and “how” in their answer. With that said, the panel was still fruitful in that it sparked discussion on how technology is impacting diverse segments of society. That in itself is an important step forward.

I left Caratinga deeply impacted by my time there. As the old adage goes, I came here to teach but ended up learning more. In fact, there were times where I wonder whether my talks were even relevant to their context. This was not just personal insecurity, though there was probably some of it , but it came from accepting that the assumptions that I operate under do not necessarily hold here. In many ways, I found a community where technological change was not as voracious as I have witnessed in the US. Even if many of these AI breakthroughs come to pass, they may not necessarily upend the social order there as it will in my own community. This is not to say that they will be immune from it. Just to realize that technology adoption is not as inevitable as we make it to be. The issue is not just whether something is technically possible but whether people will openly adopt it.

From what I saw, smart phones has become a integral part of their lives. Yet, in many other areas, the way they study, work, eat and relate to each other has remained unchanged. That is not a sign of being “backward” but of resistance. Caratinga show that there isn’t only one way to integrate technology into the fabric of a society. This realization led me reflect on how I can live a life, in a techno-dominant society, that is more in tune with my humanity and of those around me. That is the question I take home with me, hoping to not let the lessons I learned here go into oblivion.

AI Theology In Brazil – Part 1: A Personal Address

That’s me getting ready to kick the soccer ball with my dad.

How do I encapsulate 2 intense weeks in a short summary? How can I do so by providing enough detail to take the reader with me but also without making this a long drawn-out memoir? Hard task but one worth engaging in. In the previous blog, I gave my overall reflections on Brazil but did not go much in detail on what happened in my time there. This is what I will attempt to do in the following series of blogs. Here is the first installment.

First, it is important to disclose how this trip came about. For those who do not know me, I was born in Brazil and lived there until I was 15. My parents and my sister still live there. Since I had not been there since 2015, I thought it was about time to go back even if I could not bring my whole family with me. As I discussed my visit with my dad, he suggested I give some talks on Artificial Intelligence to the seminary and university he is involved in. It is a growing institution, founded by my grandfather, situated in a small town in Brazil’s interior. Because my visit, they organized a theology forum on the topic of Artificial Intelligence which consisted of 4 events:

  • Sunday School in a Presbiterian church entitled: “How to transmit our faith to our kids in a technological age”
  • A lecture open to the public in the university entitled “How Artificial Intelligence is changing relationships, professions and religion”
  • A talk with a group of pastors in the city entitled “Artificial Intelligence: How do we receive it and use it in our communities”
  • An open debate with professors in the University about “Artificial Intelligence and Post-Modernity.”

Phew, clearly this vacation turned out to be quite some work but very gratifying. Since I had little time to prepare prior to flying to Brazil, I spent a my first few days there gathering material for the talks and discussing the topic with friends and family. I had a lot to say on the topic but I wanted to contextualize it to the local reality. Attitudes and beliefs toward technology can vary widely depending on the context.

For example, it was illuminating to learn that while most of my audience did not have a computer at home, almost all of them had smart phones. Most were not familiar with terms like “machine learning” or “data science” but could see that in action when they typed a letter to send a text to a friend. I also learned that Whatsapp was the application of choice even more used than email in some cases. To my surprise, the town had Uber service even as they still had newstands in their main square. Wifi was widely available as well as small mom and pop stores that I visited while I was a kid. No Amazon and Wall-Mart nearby leaving most of commerce to local businesses. I witnessed The old and new living side-by-side in an interesting mixture. I learned of people who harvested coffee in the morning but looked up answers in google at night to help their kids to do homework.

How then should I speak of a disruptive technology in an environment where technological change was so uneven? It was important to keep my assumptions in check.

The first talk in the church inaugurated my time in Caratinga on a personal note. I was there in the church my parents married and also the one where my grandparents and some uncles had been buried. I was there to speak first as a father and husband, not as a data scientist. I started by using an analogy. I showed them first on a screen a typewriter and then a 3-D printer. While most were familiar with the first, few could recognize the latter. There lied the challenge of sharing our faith with our kids. It felt as if we were teaching faith like typewriting in a world of 3-D printers. That is, our teaching carried assumptions from bygone era, failing to address the needs, fears and questions of our time. That did not mean we had to use more technological means for sharing our faith, but it required different approaches.

I shared from my heart that in a world of noise and fast technological change, it is crucial we teach our kids the gift of silence. Furthermore, in a world of multiplying screens, nothing speak louder than a loving gaze, a warm embrace and words of affirmation. Only when we practice those, can we even begin to transmit our faith to the next generation. If our faith reflects a God of love, the best way to introduce God is through loving action.

I believe this applies not just to a small town in the interior of Brazil but it is indeed a message of global relevance. In a world of instant digital connections, physically visiting different places still matters . The learning I got being there for two weeks could not be assimilated through reading or VR. If anything, physical presence will only become more impactful than before.

Therefore, let’s cherish every chance we get to see, touch and embrace our loved ones.

AI Theology Goes to Brazil: Initial Reflections on my trip

Contemplating Bom Será Falls in Caratinga, MG Brazil / Contemplando a cachoeira do Bom Será em Caratinga, MG

The way there was long! It took more than 28 hours in all, one sleepless night on the plane, two connections and hundreds of curves on winding roads until I reached my parents’ home. All the effort was worth it! The sound of the waterfall, the cozy house and the my parents’s warmth reminded me that I was returning to a familiar place. Being there allowed me to recuperate and prepare for the marathon of talks scheduled for the following week.

The first days consisted mostly of spending time with a sister and her husband, nephews, uncles and cousins. There is always that initial strangeness when re-connecting with others we have not seen for so long. At first we are reminded that we live in parallel realities of different customs, values and habits. However, there are also memories of joint experiences that show how we are deeply related despite distance and time. Visiting family and old friends often brings a mix of nostalgia, awkwardness, joy and anxiety.

Beyond connecting with family I hoped to witness examples in Brazil that gave me hope. It is very easy to see and focus on what is wrong and what needs to be changed. But I wanted to find reasons to be grateful and proud of our country. I was looking for points of light even in a sea of ​​darkness.

Luckily, this trip did not disappoint. First I was impressed with my meals. Every lunch and dinner was a mixture of local fruits and vegetables and home made products. In an increasingly globalized world, nothing is more precious than local taste. Not only is it healthier as it promotes a greater connection with the land, and what a land!

I had forgotten the beautiful hills of these Minas Gerais. In the car trip, in the sites and even in the cities, you can see spacious pastures, closed forest and spectacular landscapes. The highlight was to contemplate the powerful waterfall of the Bom Será, a paradise found in the middle of a valley surrounded by closed forest. Sitting on its edge, listening to its noise and feeling the steady moist breeze from its waters was a spiritual experience – a multi-sensory reflection of the Creator’s beauty.

Finally, I was impressed with the existing social capital in Caratinga. In a world marked by isolation and loneliness, it is refreshing to visit a place where people talk to each other on the street without ceremony. A place of deep, intertwined relationships for generations. Seeing that was a lesson in humanity and spiritual wealth.

I came to talk about how technology is transforming the world but ended up getting a lesson on how human warmth builds community. While technologies like AI have much to offer to a place like Caratinga, it should not come at the cost of what they have already built there. My prayer is that my visit sparked conversations that can help further strengthen the existing social capital already there.

Later this week, I’ll be publishing a more detailed summary of my time and talks there. For now, I leave you with this picture that only offers a glimpse of the natural beauty of Minas.

Standing with my cousin Felipe in the Bom Será water fall.