And I quote:

The confessional polemics of the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries consisted very largely of attacks upon, and apologies for, Luther the Reformer. In an interesting and illuminating study of Roman Catholic polemical literature Adolf Herte (Das katholische Lutherbild im Bann der Luther-kommentare des Cochlaeus, 1943) has shown that the character assassination perpetrated by Johann Cochlaeus' biography of Luther continued to pass from one Roman Catholic writer to another for centuries after the Reformation, making an objective assessment of Luther and his work almost impossible. On the Lutheran side objectivity was also difficult, for the discussion of Luther's personal virtues and vices was more often a confessional issue than a biographical one. Lutheranism was defending itself, but in so doing it was defending Luther.

Such a congruence between the biographical issue and the confessional issue was due in part to the circumstance that Lutheranism was -- or at least thought it was -- faced with the same set of opponents against whom Luther had contended. The Roman Catholicism with which it had to deal was post-Tridentine both chronologically and theologically, and the Reformed thought it confronted was Calvinistic rather than Zwinglian. Both of these transformations should probably have brought about a revision of Luther's judgments; in any case there is considerable ground for such a contention. But most confessional theologians continued to interpret Trent in the light of Luther's Roman Catholic antagonists and to read both Calvin and Beza as Zwinglians. Engaged as it was in this confessional polemic during the centuries following the Reformation, Lutheranism tended to develop a stereotype of Luther as well as of his opponents. Luther at Worms was its answer to Rome; Luther at Marburg, its answer to Geneva. And against both Rome and Geneva Lutheranism continued to hurl many of the charges Luther had voiced at Worms and Marburg.

--- Jaroslav Pelikan, Luther the Expositor, pp. 38-39.

Wot Pelikan sez (it b tru):

On the history of dogma and its relationship to the history of the interpretation of the Scriptures...

It is also -- as the orthodox theologians of past and present have often neglected to realize -- the history of how theology has sometimes avoided or even abused the interpretation of the Scriptures in the defense of a personal theological whim or of an ecclesiastical party line. A study of the history of theology reveals that the exegesis of the Scriptures has profoundly influenced Christian thought, but it also shows that many theologians have been unable to hear the testimony of the Scriptures because of their personal or denominational prejudices have foreclosed the possibility of any exegesis that would change their minds about anything.

Helping to foreclose such a possibility is the polemical stance of many theologians. The press of polemics has often helped a theologian to a more profound understanding of a Biblical text which he had been taking for granted or interpreting in a superficial and conventional manner. ... In short, polemics has helped theologians to see deeper menaings in a text; but it has sometimes helped them to see meanings that were not in the text or to overlook meanings that were.
(Pelikan, Luther the Expositor, pp. 18-19)

It's tru, dat.

The interpretation of the history of theology as the ongoing record of the way in which the church has interpreted the Scriptures is an attractive one to me, especially as it has been put forth by Ebeling. As a postmodern cynic to the core, I would add that this history of interpretation is quite often the history of eisegesis and misappropriation of Scriptures for the purposes of establishing power, authority, and authenticity within the various factions and divisions which have marked Christianity from the outset. With respect to the issue of church polity, Niebuhr's observation is most certainly true:

Opinions as to church polity, varying from denomination to denomination, have been based in theory on New Testament reports of primitive church organization. The episcopal, the presbyterian, and the congregational forms have each been set forth as representing the original and ideal constitution of the Christian church. Yet the relationship of these forms to the political experience and desire of various groups is considerably more pertinent than is their relationship to the New Testament. (The Social Sources of Denominationalism, pp. 14-15.)

It merely remains to be pointed out that "political experience" and "desire of various groups" is also often "considerably more pertinent" to the formation of what is considered (by the various groupings in question) to be a sound, true, authoritative interpretation of the New Testament texts on this and other matters than is a critical, dispassionate attempt at interpretation.

Just sayin'.

So here are (will be) some notes on the Greek text of Romans coming up. This will kind of be like scrapbooking. Got it? OK, let's begin.

Here is something of a manifesto. I'll make it also my own. Ernst Käsemann on the task and duty of exegesis:

It must be asserted, explicitly and pointedly, that Paul must be understood, historically and theologically, from the point of view of the Reformation's insight. Any other perspective comprehends at best parts of his thinking, but not its centre.

Admittedly, we can no longer assert this on the basis of an unbroken confessional tradition or the inner logic of a dogmatic system. Anyone slightly acquainted with the history of the more recent study of Paul knows that also here exegetical research has brought confessional traditions face to face with difficult problems and has profoundly shaken those traditions. That happened necessarily, in so far as no tradition simply lets itself be conserved. Every generation alters the heritage of its fathers as it undertakes to transfer it to its own historical situation. As a consequence, the theology of the cross has been made shallow, narrow, and hard by [Lutheran] Orthodoxy, Pietism, and the Enlightenment equally. That necessarily provoked exegesis to examine anew, from its side, the underlying facts. In its reaction to the prevailing church doctrine and congregational piety - exegesis arrived at other - often even contrary - possibilities of understanding [the Pauline data]. Exegesis has the right and duty to experiment, because otherwise there is no thinking. Thus the relationship between the life of the church and theological research - as in every genuine partnership - is fruitful only when it remains filled with tension. Dialogue has the task of leading its participants out of traditional perspectives [horizons] onto paths previously not travelled, without shying away from the inevitable conflicts. Here, as in life in general, nothing happens without sacrifice, error, and offence. Dogged defence of the status quo kills life and thought. It makes us inhuman, in that it keeps us from confronting the promise and the claim of our own present situation.

-- Translated from "Die Heilsbedeutung des Todes Jesu nach Paulus," Zur Bedeutung des Todes Jesu, Exegetische Beiträge, ed. F. Viering (Gütersloh: Verlagshaus Gerd Mohn, 1967) p. 13, by JF Grothe and quoted in the preface to the latter's 2 volume commentary The Justification of the Ungodly: An Interpretation of Romans, p. iv-v.

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The millions will certainly be thrilled with this announcement that I've decided to actually read a book, the whole thing, all the way through from cover-to-cover, and then blog about the experience.

The question of personal salvation affects the believer in his whole existence. Not surprisingly, therefore, it has become an issue of fundamental importance in the theological controversies of Christendom, particularly since the Reformation. Until recently it has generally been assumed that the answers to this question as given by Catholics on one side and Protestants on the other were radically different. The divergence of opinion has been maintained for some four hundred years.

The author was therefore all the more astonished when he took a closer look some time ago at the theology of hope as developed by St. Thomas Aquinas. He reread what the "Common Doctor of the Church" - as Catholics like to call him - had written on the Christian's hope of personal salvation and the certainty of this. He put it alongside the teaching of Luther on the believer's certainty of salvation. And the more he extended his points of comparison, so much the more pressing became the question: Have the confessions hitherto properly understood one another and given perceptible expression to their appreciation of the other's view on this point of doctrine, so important for the theology of faith and justification? It became more and more clear to him that a very different picture from that offered by the controversial theology of the past would emerge if the real content of the teachings of both confessions were once given expression.

So writes Stephen Pfürtner in the Foreword to Luther und Thomas im Gespräch. Unser Heil zwischen Gewissheit und Gefährdung (1961) translated by Edward Quinn and published in the British Commonwealth as Luther and Aquinas - a Conversation (1964). As a classic work in that rare species of book concerned with Roman Catholic-Lutheran ecumenical understanding, it might be fun around these parts to give the thing a little read-through. Why not? It's short and the typeface is not that small. Besides, it's worth coming to grips with Aquinas to some degree what with Aeterni Patris and the Thomism which dominated the 20th century and all. Now I realise I'm rather late to the whole Thomist house party, what with there nowadays being an Augustinian at the helm of the good ship Romulus, all schooled up in the latest fads like aggiornamento and ressourcement and whatnot. But since no one sent me an invitation, late I am, so I'll just see what remainders from the cheezie bowl I can scrape out while drinking down this last of the warm beer. Then I'll leave and turn out the lights, OK?

Yes. That's the plan. And I'll blog about what little nuggets I discover/fail to discover. For those of you who have been there-done that with Pfürtner, no spoilers please.

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It's roughly two years now since the Times circulated a bit of a rant on a purportedly proposed rehabilitation of Luther by Benedict XVI, as you all might recall. Of course you can trust the Times reportage on Roman Catholicism, or Lutheranism for that matter, like you can trust a leprechaun on waymarks to the pot of gold. Not that any of this should be scandalous. It's a news-paper for goodness' sake. But anyhow Catholic watchdogs at the time were quick to offer a corrective. As watchdogs do. Whatever. More helpful, I found, was this informed response by Carl Olson who is somewhat clued-in on Ratzinger's actual theology and approach to Luther.

What I really enjoy about the Olson piece, beyond its principal function of directing people to some sources for Ratzinger's actual theology, is the quotation from Fr. Aidan Nichols' (my nearly next-door neighbour; rumour has it that they do a good Mass there but, not being a monk myself I find 7:30 am a bit to early and so I can't verify this) The Theology of Joseph Ratzinger (more recently is this offering):

[Ratzinger] "finds two figures within the Wittenberg Reformer. First, there is the Luther of the Catechisms, the hymns and the liturgical reforms: and this Luther can be received by Catholics whose own biblical and liturgical revivals in this century reproduce many of Luther's own criticisms of the late medieval Church."

This ought to cause Lutherans to take notice. Think about what Nichols is saying here (though whether it is defensible is another issue, obviously). The Luther which can be received by Catholics is the Luther of the hymns, the catechisms, and even [!] the liturgical reforms. (The last striking assertion perhaps especially calls for scrutiny.) In fact, taken as it stands, this soundbyte says in effect the Luther which can be received by Catholics is the Luther of the actual existential, catholic and evangelical, Lutheran church. For this is the very heart and soul of the Lutheran reformation of worship and spirituality, ultimately grounded upon these three pillars - the catechisms, the evangelical Mass, and the Kernlieder.

There is of course "another" Luther:

"...the radical theologian and polemicist whose particular version of the doctrine of justification by faith is incompatible with the Catholic understanding of faith as a co-believing with the whole Church, within a Christian existence composed equally of faith, hope, and charity."

This of course, is will cause any self-identifying Lutheran to immediately bristle. Any attack on a so-called "particular version of the docrine of justification" as incompatible with catholicity is in effect a kick to the bollocks (at least Lutherans are groomed from an early age to react viscerally as if this is the case). But is the "version" of justification being critiqued here that which is actually other than what is expressed in the piety of catechism, mass and hymnody? Or is the "version" itself a caricature? Does Lutheranism know of a justification apart from a "co-believing with the whole Church"? I won't presume to speak on what such a co-believing might mean to Fr Nichols, but classical Lutheran dogmatics does articulate the two-fold fides qua and the fides quae. Which is to say, personal existential faith, insofar as it is faith, "that which believes" is co-extensive with the objective faith "that which is believed" of the whole Church, or else it is not faith. Similarly, does Lutheranism know of a justification apart from a Christian existence expressed in faith, hope, and charity? I'll leave it as an exercise for the reader to glean from the Augustana that the simple answer is "No" - although the Augustana has, I believe, a very important insight into how faith stands in relationship to hope and charity.

None of this is to say "Lutheranism = Trent" or any such nonsensical thing. Obviously that is not the case. Rather it is to say this: Nichols' summary of Ratzinger is worthy of consideration in a genuine and prayerful ecumenical spirit. As for me, I take it as an invitation to further study and reflection on the nature of the division which separates Roman Catholicism from the [countless, mutually-incompatable versions of] Lutheranism, and the right, Gospel-centred response to this division. I, for one, was heartened by the Pope Benedict's words to the Lutheran congregation in Rome yesterday (can someone please find me a full text of the address - I've been googling for like 20 minutes!):

"We have divided the one path into many, so the witness we should give has been obscured."
"I think we should first be thankful that there is so much unity. It's nice that we can pray together today, sing the same hymns together, hear the same word of God together, that we can interpret and try to understand it together."
[Only God can forge true unity because] "a unity we negotiate ourselves would be human-made and as fragile as everything that humans make."

Roman Catholicism. It's not your grandfather's church any more.

Here's the prayer for Unity of Faith from the Lutheran Service Book:

O God, Your infinite love restores to the right way those who err, seeks the scattered, and preserves those whom You have gathered. Of Your tender mercy pour out on Your faithful people the grace of unity that, all schisms being ended, Your flock may be gathered to the true Shepherd of Your Church and may serve You in all faithfulness; through Jesus Christ, our Lord.

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Just making sure that nanoblogger won't mangle whatever unicode I throw at it...

:ץראה תאו םימשה תא םיהלא ארב תישארב

Εν αρχη εποιησεν ο θεος τον ουρανον και την γην.

Am Anfang schuf Gott Himmel und Erde.

Au commencement Dieu créa les cieux et la terre.

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So I've been reading this Christopher Marlowe fellow. Now the long game is that I intend to study Faustus as a literary and theological trope throughout the centuries - and have a specifically Lutheran-cultural-theological angle that I wish to explore. Since this is a totally sideshow pursuit it could be a very long game indeed. Never mind. Better to spread the waxen wings and overreach - that, if anything, is a lesson worth learning from Marlowe. The inevitable catastrophic fall is epic, and epic is totally fun.

But anyhow, Faustus for other days. This short ramble is about the two Tamburlaines. Not being an English-litty type of guy I'd not read these plays before. Understandable. Since I've inevitably approached these plays from the centre of the canon (Shakespeare) sailing out, they slapped me in their face as malformed and odd. The poetry is great and Marlowe is a prodigy who has mastered the classical ground and he richly mines it in his allusions. But, why are we so lustily celebrating what is effectively the ultimate brutal, warlike, monstrous tyrant that is Tamburlaine? What is this? The voice is the voice of Elizabethan verse drama but the hands are all hairy like a pagan Homer. Who can help this blind old non-litty man figure out what's going on here?

Not the tenured English professors I found out. Again, reading from inside the centre of the canon (Shakespeare) sailing out, they had many clever and knowedgeable things to say about it, so I discovered one evening. But reading lit-crit got kind of tired kind of fast. It is not my thing.

But then I stumbled upon a few paragraphs by Frances Yates, who I love and adore, and who enlightened me. Furthermore, since Yates was an astoundingly knowledgable and insightful Renaissance historian whatever she says, compared to an English professor, is 99% more likely to be true. Call me old-fashioned but I think authorial intention and whatnot is a cool way to think about texts. Historians are pretty good at that.

In fine, she has convinced me that the whole celebration of Tamburlaine's rise from a shepherd boy under the star of Saturn to a predestined imperial military dominance and universal, and blood-curdlingly, master of the world - and celebrate is what the vaunted verse does - is satirical. (O.K. time for the inevitable quote-fest, you knew this was coming because this is blogging, right?)

The imperial theme according to Marlowe needs to be compared with other Renaissance imperial themes in order to bring out its peculiarities. The Empire of Charles V aroused visions of world empire for the House of Hapsburg. The propaganda of Guillaume Postel in France aroused visions of the Monarchy of the East for the French king. The imperial theme and its imagery was adapted for the propaganda of Queen Elizabeth I and was very familiar to the Elizabethan public. In Marlowe's use it there is a striking absence of the main accessory of the imperial theme, namely that it represented the establishment of a just rule and the maintenance of peace and all the virtues.
Tamburlaine's rule, though it is adorned with all the glorious trappings of imperial pageantry, is not just. He is a cruel tyrant and there is no word about virtue in all the play. The horrors of his cruelty are displayed on the stage. He spreads war and no peace.
Marlowe would appear to be undermining imperial themes through his presentation of the tyrant Tamburlaine. ... [The effect] would be to devalue the imperial idea, and to dismiss any suggestion of connection of imperial triumphing with the establishment of justice and virtue. Raleigh's and Spenser's poetic cult of Elizabeth as representative of the religious and reforming aspect of empire is in sharp contrast to Marlowe's frenzied emphasis on imperial cruelty and tyranny. Since there is so much in the pageantry of the play which an Elizabethan audience would recognise as reflecting pageantry in honour of the queen, this contrast may even have been intended to be dangerously subversive.
---Yates, Frances, The Occult Philosophy in the Elizabethan Age, p. 144.

So, yeah. What's this blog post about? Well, it's unlikely you are still reading this so, does it really matter? But if you've stumbled across this blog post via Google because you're writing a school essay I suggest you check out Yates on Marlowe. Heck, I'd give you a B+.

Oh that reminds me, I was watching that 24 show on DVD over a period of months a while back (a late-night diversion from thesis-writing, you know the drill) and at the time I harboured a secret suspicion about the writers of that series; they were amping up this sort of militaristic, presidential-cultish, neo-fascist "Freedom versus the Terror of the Other" worldview - amping it up to infinity as a profound, ironical critique. The alternative I did not want to contemplate - that the world of 24 was an acceptable imaginative reflection of reality for the American viewer. I'm probably wrong about that. Even if I'm not, the irony appears to have been completely lost on the audience. Maybe this is why I'm clinging to Yates' reading. What the world needs today is a Marlowe working for the Fox Network. But one who can keep his head down and steer clear of Deptford.

That's all for now.

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How cool is nanoblogger, eh?

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago I had a blog. But then I had to finish my thesis and so I put blogging on hold. Now I've finished the thesis. During the interim Twitter was invented. Twitter is really, really easy. But blogging, well, that's a different story. We'll see how it goes. Blogging nowadays is really, really hard.