The signs of late summer are many here in the Wallowas. The berries on the Mountain Ash tree are turning orange. Robins feast on the intoxicating berries, which leads to some reeling redbreasts on the grass. In the mountains the thimble berries are bright red and tasty. The mosquitoes are mostly behind us now. The sun is visibly moving south. Soon the bright red and orange of the spawning Kokanee Salmon will brighten the blue-green waters of the Wallowa River. After a very warm July, August is cooler, a welcome change.
I have been reading Tolstoy’s masterpiece Anna Karenina. Tolstoy’s insights into the human heart are staggering. Last night I read a section about Anna’s 9-year-old son, Seryozha, whom she had left behind to be with her lover, Vronsky. Now, as she seeks to re-connect with him, there’s some concern about the boy’s education and eagerness to learn.
Tolstoy writes, “He was nine years old, a child; but he knew his own soul and it was precious to him, he guarded it as the eyelid guards the eye, and he would allow no one into his soul without the key of love. His instructors complained that he didn’t want to learn anything, while his soul was overflowing with a thirst for knowledge.”
We learn, do we not, from those we love and those who love us? Were I a college psychology instructor, I think I would make Anna Karenina my introductory text and devote the entire term to it.
To swing the pendulum the other direction . . . while I’ve missed the last three weeks of “Adventures in Barth,” I hope to return to the panel tomorrow. I’ve continued to read Barth and my new favorite interpreter, Marty Folsom and his, The Church Dogmatics for Everyone.
It occurs to me that it may be possible to put the essence of Barth this way: so-called “natural theology” (the bane of Barth’s existence) begins with me, with us, with things like “the human condition,” and whatever matters seem most relevant at the moment. Barth’s theology rejects all that as the starting point. For Barth the starting point (and ending point) is Jesus Christ. This sounds simple but the consequences are profound and enormous. Most all liberal theology is “natural theology,” which has left the church with too little to say about God’s nature and purposes.
Well, which is it: the human condition or God’s revelation? As an irenic friend likes to say, “Can’t we do both?” Yes, and we must. That said, the inward turn, and the turn away from God and revelation, has left many today in an abyss of subjectivity. In a recent essay on the pursuit of human happiness, “Are We Happy Yet?” (answer, “No!”), author Jessica Gorse writes the following:
“The youngest adults, who have been marinating in a positive psychology culture since they left the womb, may be the most deeply affected by the inward shift of the search for happiness. A recent survey from Harvard’s Graduate School of Education makes the case that we are, as a culture, over-focusing on the ‘psychological talk and a self-help culture’ that has ’caused many people to look inward to find meaning and vitality. Yet the self by itself is a poor source for meaning.’”
In my blog item, “On The River of No Return,” I described rafting the Salmon River in Idaho last month. Here’s a recent painting of mine from that experience. The title is “Storm on the Salmon River.” Readers may recall my description of a magnificent thunder and lightning storm one evening. The lightning set fire to a distant hilltop. We watched the wildfire grow rapidly . . . until the rains came and put the fire completely out, to our great relief. Here’s a thumbnail of that painting.
I thought I was as ignorant of the theology of Barth as the most innocent freshman entering their first Western Phil 101 class, but because I have long felt drawn to a sense of “natural theology”, I know what he doesn’t think we ought to believe.
When we are surrounded by Nature, we feel at one with it, a connectedness. I believe that may be where “natural theology” comes from.
RH, thanks for your comment. I don’t think I did a very good job explaining what I, or Karl Barth, meant by “natural theology.” Despite the term, “natural theology,” is not theology inspired by nature and its beauty, an appreciation of which I deeply share. Natural theology takes its cue from our human observations and enthusiasms to draw conclusions about God. With natural theology God and God’s will become what we regard as true and normative. Barth was distressed by the way his liberal theological mentors all caved into supporting Germany in WWI, claiming that supporting for the Kaiser’s war was their Christian duty. He was even more appalled when most of the German church adopted MGGA, Making Germany Great Again under Hitler. Natural theology means that our human agendas define God and God’s will in place of what God has revealed as his will in Jesus Christ. Another example of NT at work: we observe that men are generally physically stronger than women, so conclude based on our observation that men should “rule over women.” The reference point is our observations and agendas, not Jesus and his way of life.
I recently re-read Anna Karenina, which I first read many years ago as a 20-something college student, chosen as a required ‘summer reading’ book. I spent weeks reading it this time, marveling at all the characters, all the incidents, the beautiful and evocative descriptions of the Russian countryside — which I did not remember from my first reading — and Tolstoy’s insights into the complexities of human beings. Although I can’t identify any reason for choosing to re-read ‘Anna’ (as I’ve called it these past weeks), I think that I’ve honored myself by having done so. Thanks, Rev. Robinson, for mentioning these authors and their books.