FAIR OR FOUL?

CONTEXTUAL THEOLOGY AND CRITERIA FOR ORTHODOXY

The Brown Lecture Series—Center for Practical Theology

Boston University School of Theology

November 1, 2012

Stephen Bevans, SVD

Catholic Theological Union

INTRODUCTION

Three experiences over the last twenty years have challenged me to engage

in the research and reflection that makes up my lecture this evening, and so in a

very real sense what I say tonight will be an exercise in practical theology.

The first experience took place almost twenty years ago. I had just published

my book Models of Contextual Theology,1 and I had been invited to give a workshop

on the book at the Maryknoll Mission Institute in Maryknoll, NY. At one point early

on in the workshop I was talking about how I thought that, in contextual theology,

experience functioned as a criterion basically equal to the traditional two criteria of

1 Stephen Bevans, Models of Contextual Theology (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1992). A “Revised, Expanded Version” was published in 2002.

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Scripture and Tradition, when a student literally shouted from the back of the room:

“You have simply caved in to postmodern relativism!”

A second experience took place a few years later. Well-known practical

theologian Kathleen Cahalan had written a paper on varieties of practical theology,

and she asked me to respond to it at the annual meeting of the Catholic Theological

Society of America. When I read the paper I was rather shocked that she had linked

my colleague Robert Schreiter and me together in a category of postmodern

theologians. I was shocked on one level because then, as now, I was not exactly sure

what “postmodern” meant. But on another level I was shocked that I was once again

linked to a kind of relativism—and one that I believed I didn’t at all espouse.

A third experience was actually a series of similar experiences that took place

in the fall of 2009 when I served for the fall term as “Missiologist in Residence” at

the headquarters of the Church Mission Society—a missionary agency of the

Evangelical wing of the Anglican Church—in Oxford, England. During my time at

CMS I gave a number of lectures throughout England on contextual theology, and at

the end of each of them someone would ask the same questions: “How did I know

that a particular contextual theological expression or practice was in accordance

with the scriptural witness?” “If experience is such a strong factor in a contextual

theology or practice, how do I know that it did not succumb to syncretism, and so

betray the very gospel message it was trying to make relevant?”

When Professors Dana Robert and Claire Wolfteich invited me to deliver this

lecture in the Brown Lecture Series, I thought that this was the opportunity to think

all of this through more carefully and thoroughly.

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What I am about to present to you is certainly the result of a lot of thought,

worked out as carefully and thoroughly as I am capable of over the last year or so,

but I need to say at the outset that what I present here, therefore, is very little more

than a modest outline, a heuristic if you will. I am not convinced that it will answer

the huge question of criteria in a completely adequate manner, but I do hope that it

will get us all thinking together, which for me is the essence of the theological

process itself. It is this thinking together, in dialogue with a number of criteria for

orthodoxy, which is the practice I will advocate at this lecture’s conclusion.

I’m going to divide my reflections this evening into three parts. A first part

will reflect on the innate pluralism of theology because of the nature of doctrine..

Part II will suggest that any knowledge of the orthodoxy of any theological

expression or Christian practice needs to be laced with a good dose of humility.

Finally, Part III will lay out a number of criteria that could be used to ascertain the

orthodoxy of a contextual theological expression or practice.

So let’s begin.

DETERMINING THE FOUL LINES:

THE NATURE OF DOCTRINE AND THE PLURALISM OF THEOLOGY

As I wrote this lecture in late September and early October, it became clear

that neither the Boston Red Sox nor the Chicago White Sox would be in the World

Series this year. Chicago, at least, certainly had had a chance, but they blew it at the

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end of September. Nevertheless, in these days after the World Series has just

concluded, and here at Boston University in the shadow of Fenway Park, it might be

appropriate to have recourse to Justo González’ wonderful explanation of the nature

of doctrine as the foul lines on a baseball field.2 Clearly inspired by George

Lindbeck’s “cultural-linguistic model” of doctrine,3 González writes that “there is no

rule that forces the shortstop to stand to one side of second base, and the second

baseman to the other. There is no rule that says that the ball must be hit to a

particular area of the field. As long as they stay within the foul lines, players have a

great deal of freedom.”4 There is, as it were, a virtually infinite number of plays that

can be made, strategies developed, places a ball can be hit. The art of the game is in

the players’ attention to what is going on the field, and their often amazing athletic

responses to that. A good player and a good team, if you will, is the way he or she or

they respond to experience.

But there are limits. These virtually infinite number of plays, strategies, and

placements will only be valid when the ball is hit within the foul lines, or only when

the ball is judged as “fair,” not “foul.” Again González writes, “You may hit a ball as

hard as you wish; but if it is foul it is not a home run. To try to legislate where each

player must stand, and where the ball must be hit, would destroy the game; but to

2 González sketches this model in A Concise History of Doctrine (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2005), 6-7.3 George A. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and Theology in a Postliberal Age (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1984). González does not cite or refer to Lindbek in his text. However, it is cited in his list of further readings at the end of the introductory chapter where he introduces his baseball analogy.4 González, 6.

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try to play without any sense of limits, without any foul lines, would also destroy the

game.”5

Such is the role of doctrine in the doing of theology. It does not forbid or

inhibit the myriad ways that theology can be done. Theology, indeed, by its very

nature is contextual, and so enjoys an innate pluralism. A good theologian, like a

good batter, is one that responds adequately and creatively to experience. But

theology needs foul lines. Not every expression of theology or Christian practice is a

home run. Not every theology or practice is adequate or true. While there is amazing

pluralism in theology, it is not relativistic. It is not enough to be sincere or religious.

Theologies need to be true. Theological expressions or Christian practices can be

either “fair” or “foul.”

Theology is done properly, to borrow Schubert Ogden’s terms, according to

the criteria of credibility on the one hand and the criteria of appropriateness on the

other.6 One the one hand, a theological expression or Christian practice needs to be

credible. It needs to make sense in a particular context. It has to be done in response

to human experience. This needs to be so because, as Evangelical anthropologist

Charles Kraft argues, when a theology is perceived as irrelevant, it is in fact

irrelevant.7 Just because a theological expression is objectively orthodox doesn’t

necessarily make it good theology. Just to speak about “transubstantiation” or even

“Jesus as Lord” and not relate it to people’s experience is not what theology is

supposed to do. Christians need to strive to make the gospel credible, as Methodist

5 González, 6-7.6 Schubert M. Ogden, On Theology (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1986), 4-6.7 See Charles H. Kraft, Christianity in Culture (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1979), 296.

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anthropologist Darrell Whiteman says powerfully, so that, if people reject the

gospel, they reject it for the right reasons.8 A stunning example of this, even though

fictional, is the character in Barbara Kingsolver’s novel The Poisonwood Bible who

intends to preach that “Jesus is Lord,” when what he says is “Jesus is poison!”9

On the other hand, a theological expression or Christian practice needs to be

appropriate in that it needs to conform to the original witness of the Scriptures that

is also expressed in the Christian tradition and—in the Catholic tradition—

interpreted by the church’s Teaching Office. The experience that legitimizes a good

theological expression, in other words, must match in some way the original or

ongoing experience of the Christian community. The Council of Nicea claimed, for

example, that the term “homoousios,” though not a biblical expression, did actually

correspond to what the Scriptures said about Christ, and corresponded as well to

the church’s ongoing practice of praying to Jesus as to God. African theologians

today who speak of Jesus as Healer or Ancestor need to do the same. The criteria of

appropriateness set the foul lines of the theological game, and yet both criteria will

determine whether, in a particular context, a theological expression or practice

actually expresses the reality to which the tradition points.

CALLING IT “FAIR” OR “FOUL”:

A METHOD OF CONVERGING PROBABILITIES

8 Darrell L. Whiteman, “Contextualization: The Theory, The Gap, The Challenge,” International Bulletin of Missionary Research21, 1 (January, 1997): 3.9 Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible: A Novel (New York: HarperFlamingo, 1998).

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But how can we know whether a ball—a theological expression or Christian

practice—is fair or foul? I have been pondering this question for some twenty years,

but especially in the last two or three, and my answer is that, ultimately, we really

don’t know. My answer may seem a bit disappointing at one level, especially for

those Christians who crave clear and certain answers, but it is not as agnostic as it

might seem at first. What I want to say by this is that, while I think we can come to a

very good idea of whether a theological expression or Christian practice is fair or

foul, this is something that we should approach with deep humility.

Let me explain. What might seem outrageous and clearly against the gospel

and Christian tradition in one time or in one context may be judged to be perfectly

orthodox at another time and situation. Consider the practice of taking interest on a

loan in the middle ages, the Chinese Rites controversy in the seventeenth and

eighteenth centuries, of the possibility of ordination of women in some

denominations up until our own time. And what had been considered normal

Christian doctrine or Christian practice at one time might be judged in quite another

way at another time. Think, for example, of the morality of slavery, the place of the

wanton use of fossil fuels, or—for Catholics—the existence of Limbo. Because of

this, judging whether neuralgic issues of today—ranging from new images of Jesus

emerging in the majority world, to new Catholic understandings of the doctrine of

transubstantiation in the light of virtual reality, to the morality of same sex

marriages in the light of contemporary biology and psychology, need, I think, to be

approached with both caution and openness. If a call is contested, an umpire might

consult the other umpires on the field to get their own opinions from other

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perspectives. New technologies like “instant replay” might help us determine more

accurately in the future what is indeed fair or foul.

But what do we do in the meantime? What I’d like to suggest is that we adapt

a stance analogous to the position of the nineteenth century churchman and

theologian John Henry Newman (1801-1890). In his monumental work, An Essay in

Aid of a Grammar of Assent,10 Newman attempted to lay out a theory of knowledge

that would lead him, not to rational certainty but to reasonable grounds for making

an act of faith. For Newman, one comes to faith not through a process of rational

argument. Rather, one comes to faith through the use of what he called the “illative

sense,” a kind of phronesis or practical wisdom “which tells us when to discard the

logical imperfection and to assent to the conclusion which ought to be drawn . . .”11

And yet, says Newman, “I am arguing against the principle that phronesis (Greek

characters in the original) is a higher sort of logic.”12 Indeed, writes Nicholas Lash,

“for Newman, the structure of personal religious faith is the structure of ‘personal

knowledge’ in respect of any subject matter whatsoever.”13

Such an approach to knowledge makes use of what Newman called “informal

inference” or what might be called a “method of converging probabilities”—a

method to be distinguished from “formal inference” or syllogistic logic.14 As

Newman wrote to a lay acquaintance: “My main proposition, in my Essay is, that by

10 John Henry Newman, An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1979). Originally published in 1870.11 C. S. Dessain and Thomas Gornall, S.J., ed., Letters and Diaries of John Henry Newman, Volume 24, 124-25, quoted in Nicholas Lash, “Introduction” to Newman, An Essay, 8.12 Dessain and Gornall, 25, quoted in Lash, 8.13 Lash, 5.14 Newman, 230.

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the nature of the human mind we assent absolutely on reasons which taken

separately are but probabilities.”15 The method of argument, then, is one by which a

person gradually comes to recognize something as true or false not by one forceful

argument, but by a number of weaker or partial arguments that gradually converge

to persuade him or her to affirm or deny an issue or fact.

Newman offers a number of analogies that illuminate his method. His

favorite example16 is the statement that “Great Britain is an island.”17 How do we

know that for certain? Have we actually circumnavigated Britain to find out for

sure? Newman does not think this is necessary, because we can offer good reasons

for our opinion: “first, we have been so taught in our childhood, and it is so in all the

maps; next, we have never heard it contradicted or questions; on the contrary, every

one whom we have heard speak on the subject of Great Britain, every book we have

read, invariably took it for granted; our whole national history, the routine

transactions and current events of the country, our social and commercial system,

or political relations with foreigners, imply it in one way or another.”18 The

proposition, Newman would say, is not a certain one, but we can nevertheless assent

to it with certitude.19

Newman gives other examples. For example, a cable is made from strands of

metal that by themselves could not hold up a bridge, but plaited together have very

considerable strength. A polygon inscribed within a circle, when its sides are

15 Dessain and Gornall, 25, quoted in Lash, 11.16 Lash, 15.17 Newman, 234.18 Newman, 234-35.19 Newman, 271.

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continually shortened, will eventually be wholly contiguous to the circle. At a certain

point one grasps this fact even before the actual occurrence takes place.20

Putting our question—how do we know if a theological expression or

Christian practice is fair or foul?—over against Newman’s method of converging

probabilities, I’d like to suggest that the answer lies in the convergence of the

fulfillment or not of a number of criteria that can be laid out. None of these criteria

by itself, or even a few of them together, would be understood as complete

arguments one way or another for an expression or practice’s orthodoxy. But it

seems to me that as one criteria after another is fulfilled or not, it becomes more and

more obvious that the expression or practice is or is not fair or foul. This method, of

course, is analogous to Newman’s method. We would not be doing the same thing

that Newman was trying to do, nor do I think that we would have the certitude that

Newman argued for in his Essay.21

But I think the analogy works. Using Newman’s method to answer the

question of the orthodoxy—the fairness or foulness—of an expression or practice,

we are approaching a reasonable judgment on the issue. But we are doing this not

by a kind of one-on-one correspondence of an expression or practice to Scripture or

Tradition. That is fairly impossible, given that the expression or practice we are

testing possibly comes out of an entirely different kind of experience or culture. And

so our judgment of orthodoxy or heterodoxy is made in an indirect way, making use

of Newman’s “illative sense.”

20 Newman, 253.21 See, for example, Newman, 270-71.

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And rather than certitude in any absolute way, using Newman’s method will

produce a judgment more akin to the kind Bernard Lonergan—who was highly

influenced by Newman’s Essay—speaks of as a “probable judgment.” On this

Lonergan writes: “Probable judgments differ from guesses. In both cases knowledge

is incomplete. In both cases reflective understanding fails to reach the virtually

unconditioned. But the guess is a nonrational venture beyond the evidence . . . [and]

the probable judgment results from rational procedures.”22 Other facts may emerge,

other perspectives may change the way we understand the question, and so we

should be humble before our judgments. They are, however, made reasonably, with

less than sufficient evidence, perhaps, but with enough that we can make a

considered decision. In many ways this is the same kind of decision umpires make.

They could be wrong, but because of their knowledge of the game, their years of

experience, their basic integrity we usually accept their calls.

FAIR OR FOUL?

CRITERIA FOR ORTHODOXY IN CONTEXTUAL THEOLOGY

If a method of converging probabilities is a valid way of proceeding in

determining the orthodoxy of a particular theological expression or Christian

practice, what might these criteria be? In this section I would like to sketch out a

number of criteria that could be used in coming to a probably but nevertheless real

22 Bernard J. F. Lonergan, Insight: A Study in Human Understanding, Collected Works of Bernard Lonergan 3, Frederick E. Crowe and Robert Doran, ed. (Toronto: Lonergan Research Institute, University of Toronto Press, 1992). First published 1957.

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judgment of fair or foul. Here I would like to rehearse the five criteria offered by

Robert Schreiter, along with one from Lode Wostyn and José de Mesa, that I

originally incorporated into my book Models of Contextual Theology. Then I would

like to offer several other criteria as well. I am fairly sure that there are more

criteria that could be suggested here. However, as I said in the beginning of this

paper, this is only an exploratory venture on my part.

My sense is that, after almost thirty years, the five criteria that Robert

Schreiter sets out in his Constructing Local Theologies and the three that José de

Mesa and Lode Wostyn offer in their Doing Theology: Basic Realities and Processes

are still very valid today. Schrieter says, in fact, that the criteria that he lists are not

new, and are well known within the Christian tradition. The same may be said for

those proposed by de Mesa and Wostyn. We might call them the classical criteria.23

The first criteria is the most abstract—that of “cohesiveness.” This criterion

is based on the fact that Christian doctrines and practices are not a kind of “laundry

list” of ideas or things to do, but form a coherent system in which one affects all and

all affects one. Should a theological expression or Christian practice have the affect

of altering that system significantly, it would be questionable as to whether it is a

true expression of the gospel message. Schreiter gives an example from the Arian

controversy, which I have come to think is the most important controvery of

contextual theology in Christian history. Arius’ theology that “there was a time when

the Word was not” was probably the theology more in touch with contemporary

23 See Robert J. Schreiter, Constructing Local Theologies (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1985), 117-21; José M. de Mesa and Lode Wostyn, Doing Theology: Basic Realities and Processes (Quezon City, Philippines: Maryhill School of Theology, 1982), 103-17.

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culture than that of Bishop Alexander in Alexandria. Steeped in the philosophy of

neo-Platonism, there would be no way for Arius to accept that God would ever

involve Godself in the physical world. But Alexander’s and later Athanansius’

theology of Jesus’ full divinity, expressed in the term homoousios, was the better

Christian theology. Were Arius’ idea to be accepted as orthodox, the whole Christian

understanding of revelation would need to be revised, as well as the theory of

redemption—what has not been assumed has not been redeemed, Athanasius

insisted.

Second, Schreiter offers the criterion of what I might call “prayability.” This

criterion is based on the ancient dictum “lex orandi, lex credendi,” or “the law of

prayer is the law of belief.” In this context, however, Schreiter reverses the dictum,

suggesting that if something is proposed for belief it should be able to be prayed,

ritualized, expressed in liturgy. Here again the Arian controversy is illustrative,

since one of the arguments against Arius is that “but we have always prayed to Jesus

as we pray to God.” Arius’s understanding of Jesus as the Platonic demiurge just

didn't quite do it. We might also ask here whether African images of Jesus—Proto-

Ancestor, Chief, Healer, Master of Initiation—or a Native American image like Christ

the Pipe, or a feminist image, borrowed from the medieval mystics, of Jesus as

Mother would help or hinder a community’s prayer.24

24 See, for example, Robert J. Schreiter, ed., Faces of Jesus in Africa (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1991); William Stolzman, The Pipe and Christ: A Christian-Sioux Dialogue (Chamberlain, SD: Tipi Press, 1986); Caroline Walker Bynum, Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1982).

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In the third place is the criterion of “orthopraxis,” or whether an expression

or practice leads to authentic Christian behavior. New Zealand Maori theologian

Jenny Te Paa offers a stunning example of the use of this criterion when she talks

about the need to be wary of uncritical acceptance of certain cultural images into the

theological enterprise. Her example is the use of the New Zealand cultural icon of

the Maori Warrior, which, while very much at the center of Maori culture, would be

a disaster to bring into a Maori contextual theology as an ideal—she doesn’t say it,

but I think if this image as a possible image of Christ, or an ideal of full human

flourishing. Such an image, she says, does not match the reality of “young Maori foot

soldiers/warriors” who are being systematically marginalized in New Zealand

society. “Even more tragically,” she writes, “neither does the narrative match the

contemporary criminal statistical reality of just who it is that Maori women—indeed

any women—too often need protecting from.”25

Schreiter’s criterion number four is what I would call the criterion of

“openness.” In Schreiter’s words, “Is a local church willing to stand under the

judgment of other churches in the matter of its Christian performance or does it

close itself off, assured of its own truth?”26 This criterion, he says, is based on the

dual principles of catholicity and unity: on the one hand there needs to be

communication among Christians and among churches, a real give and take of

opinions; on the other hand there needs to be a sense and practice of unity—not

25 Jenny Te Paa, “Context, Controversy, and Contradiction in Contemporary Theological Education: Who Bene ‘Fits’ and Who Just Simply Doesn’t Fit?” in ed. Stephen B. Bevans and Katalina Tahaafe-Williams, Contextual Theology for the Twenty-First Century (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Books, 2011), 83.26 Schreiter, Constructing Local Theologies, 119-20.

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uniformity, of course. If a theologian or church would simply say “Well, we are

simply ______ (add an ethnic group or social location) and nobody else understands

us” there is a good chance that practices and expressions have to be judged

negatively. On the other hand, a theologian or local church that is willing to be

flexible, in dialogue, with others needs to be judged in a more positive light. Filipino

theologian José de Mesa’s concern to put his efforts of Filipino theology in dialogue

with “theological constants” in a process of “inter-traditionality” is an example of

this latter stance of openeness.27

Schreiter’s fifth criterion might be called the criterion of “challenge.” The

point of this criterion is that a particular theological expression or practice out of a

local situation, if it has the power to challenge other theologies with new and fresh

perspectives, could very well be one that is truly evangelical. The immense influence

of Latin American liberation theology in the last four decades, giving birth to other

theologies of liberation like Chicano/Hispanic/Latino/a theologies, Asian and Asian-

American theologies of liberation, feminist theologies, and the like point to its

validity as theology and practice. From another perspective, feminist theologies like

that of Elizabeth Johnson and theologies from the perspective of evolution like that

of Ilia Delio are strong challenges to the whole of theological enterprise, along with

ethics, and Christian spirituality.28

27 José M. de Mesa, “Theological Constants and Theological Reflections: The Question of Truth in the Pastoral Circle,” in The Pastoral Circle Revisited: A Critical Quest for Truth and Transformation, ed. Frans Wijsen, Peter Hernriot, and Rodrigo Mejia, 89-107. (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2005); José M. de Mesa, Bakas: Retieving the Sense of Sacramentality of the Ordinary (Manila: Anvil Publishing, 2008), 78-79.28 See Elizabeth A. Johnson, She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse (New York: Crossroad, 1992) and Ilia Delio, The Emergent Christ: Exploring the Meaning of Catholic in an Evolutionary Universe (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis

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Of de Mesa and Wostyn’s three criteria let me focus on their criterion of

“reception,” one that is sanctioned by the “sensus fidelium” or “sense of the faithful.”

A new theology or practice might emerge in the writings of a theologian or the

practice of a community, and it might be—especially over time—accepted or

rejected by that community. A classic example of this is found in John Henry

Newman’s short work On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine, in which he

describes how the laity’s reception and acceptance of Nicea’s doctrine of Jesus’

divinity actually saved the church from becoming Arian, which was the theological

preference of many bishops.29 Less serious, but quite important nonetheless, is the

reception by many U. S. Catholics regarding the practice of holding hands during the

recitation of the Lord’s Prayer during the celebration of the Eucharist.

Over the years, and especially over the past year, I have tried to identify

other criteria that might also be used, in a method of converging probabilities, to

identify the orthodoxy of contextual theological expressions. I am sure there are

others, but these are the ones that I have discovered.

One very powerful criterion, I think, I have adapted from Rosemary Radford

Ruether’s groundbreaking 1983 book, Sexism and God-Talk.30 It is what she calls “the

critical principle of feminist theology,” or what I have called the “critical feminist

principle.” Ruether presents it both negatively and positively. Negatively, she says,

“Whatever denies, diminishes, or distorts the full humanity of women is . . .

Books, 2011).29 John Henry Newman, On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1961).30 Rosemary Radford Ruether, Sexism and God-Talk: Toward a Feminist Theology, Tenth Anniversary Edition (Boston: Beacon Press, 1993).

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appraised as not redemptive.” Because of this, it does not “reflect the divine or an

authentic relation to the divine, or . . . the authentic nature of things, “ nor can it

pretend “to be the message or work of an authentic redeemer or a community of

redemption.” Positively, whatever “does promote the full humanity of women is of

the Holy, it does reflect true relation to the divine, it is the true nature of things, the

authentic message and the mission of redemptive community.”31

While not wanting to dull the edge of this criterion for women, in the light of

today’s ecological consciousness, in a way that I am quite certain Ruether would

approve, I propose to amend this criterion as the “critical cosmic principle.” Such a

principle would include the feminist principle articulated by Ruether, but expand it

to include any oppressed person and the earth and entire cosmos as well. As such,

the criterion would suggest that any theological expression or Christian practice

that would deny, diminish, or distort the full flourishing of the cosmos could not be

an adequate expression or practice, whereas any that does promote such flourishing

would most likely be a true Christian theological expression or practice. Such

ecological practices, therefore, like the “war of the trees” in Zimbabwe, described by

Inus Daneel in his book African Earthkeepers,32 would be a truly Christian contextual

practice. On the other hand, images of God that would reward women and men with

a “health and wealth” that just focused on their potential to consume more, in

imitation of U.S. consumerism, could in no way present God’s true image.

31 Ruether, 18-19.32 Marthinus L. Daneel, African Earthkeepers: Wholistic Interfaith Mission (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2001).

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A second criterion I would propose is the criterion of “community.” What I

mean by this is that the more a theology or practice comes out of a community, and

is not just the result of an individual’s theologizing, the better chance it has of being

on the mark. Justo González speaks of this as “Fuenteovejuna Theology” after a play

by the sixteenth century Spaniard Lope de Vega in which a whole village takes

responsibility for an act of justified killing of a tyrant. González writes that “to the

degree that it is true to the faith and experience of that community, to that very

degree will it be impossible for any of us to speak of ‘my’ theology or ‘your’

theology.33 This is a criterion that relies on the guidance of “the God of the

Gathering,” as Mary Benet McKinney names it. For her, there is a power of the

“shared wisdom” of a group gathered in which every one has a “piece of the

wisdom.”34 The theology and practices emerging from the several Encuentros of U.S.

Catholic Latino/as might be an example of how this criterion could function. A

product of discernment, prayer, and discussion, such a rich contextual theology is

one that may well be a true reflection of the gospel for today’s U. S. society.

A third criterion I would propose is the criterion of “robustness.” If a

theological expression or practice is “robust” enough, it can inspire all kinds of other

theologies and practices. This is what I see happening to Roger Schroeder’s and my

understanding of mission as “prophetic dialogue.”35 This idea has inspired a number

33 Justo L. González, Mañana: Christian Theology from a Hispanic Perspective (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1990), 30.34 Mary Benet McKinney, Shared Wisdom: A Process for Group Decision Making (Valencia, CA: Tabor, 1987).35 Stephen B. Bevans and Roger P. Schroeder, Constants in Context: A Theology of Mission for Today (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2004), 348-95; and Prophetic Dialogue: Reflections on Christian Mission Today (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2011).

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of Catholic religious communities (e.g. Glenmary, the Redemptorists, the Oblates of

Mary Immaculate) to deeper reflection on this idea for their own pastoral and

missionary practice, and has inspired some creative thinking in at least one other

field—that of ethics—as well.36 Similarly, the Filipino word loob—one’s deepest self

—has inspired much rich theological reflection in the Philippines.37

Fourth, there is the criterion of “intelligibility.” Right at the beginning of his A

Concise History of Christian Doctrines, Justo González writes that if a doctrine is

important, he should be able to explain the meaning of that doctrine “in words that

the average believer can understand.”38 It seems to me that this should be the case of

any contextual theology or Christian practice. Anthropologist Aylward Shorter

writes about how powerful is Thomas Christiansen’s image of the soré tree in

Cameroon to capture the reality of God and grace in people’s lives.39 José de Mesa

has often remarked to me how Filipinos are amazed at and renewed in their faith

after his explanation of grace and revelation in terms of the concept loob.

Finally, Vietnamese-American theologian Peter Phan speaks of “harmony” as

a way of recognizing the truth of a particular expression or practice. Phan’s proposal

is that rather than speaking of a theological expression as “faithful” to the tradition,

36See Thomas Nairn, “Bioethics as Missionary Work,” Health Progress (July-August, 2012): 70-72 (www.chausa.org).37 For example see José M. de Mesa, In Solidarity with the Culture (Quezon City, Philippines: Maryhill School of Theology, 1991), 43-74; Why Theology is Never Far from Home (Manila: De La Salle University Press, 2003), 132-33; Dionisio Miranda, Buting Pinoy (Manila: Divine Word Publications, 1993).38 Justo L. González, A Concise History of Christian Doctrine (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2005), 1-2.39 Aylward Shorter, in Mission and Culture: The Louis J. Luzbetak Lectures, ed. Stephen B. Bevans, (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2012), 109-110, referring to Thomas Christiansen, An African Tree of Life (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1990).

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we should ask whether it is in harmony with it.40 Phan, as I recall, spoke of the Asian

value of harmony, but also harmony in the musical sense. In this regard, he said, that

sometimes a beautiful piece of melodic harmony is made more interesting by the

introduction of moments of dissonance and counterpoint. I would like to read and

hear more about this criterion, but it strikes me as quite intriguing.

CONCLUSION

I began this lecture claiming that it would be an exercise of practical

theology. Let me conclude by outlining what this practice would be.

This past August I attended a meeting of the International Association for

Mission Studies in Toronto, and I asked one of the speakers who had talked about

the danger of “overcontextualizing” what criteria he would propose to determine

that something had indeed been “overcontextualized.” His response to me was

“constant dialogue,” something that I have been convinced of for some time. That

dialogue has to be, first of all, I think, with both Scripture and tradition. Second, it

has to be among the people concerned. Determining whether a theological

expression or Christian practice “fair” or “foul” is not an easy call. It probably should

not be the call of a single person, no matter how much authority she or he claims to

have. Rather than the call of one umpire, it should be the result of all of them in

consultation. In the case of the Christian church, all of us are umpires, since all of us

40 Phan’s remarks are summarized in a report by Robert Lasalle Klein in The Catholic Theological Society of America: Proceedings of the Fifty-sixth Annual Convention, Vol. 56 (2001): 192.

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have been gifted by the Spirit in Baptism. Using a method of converging

probabilities, practicing dialogue with the criteria I have proposed and others that

may prove helpful, the Christian community can come to a pretty good idea whether

a theology or a practice is in the ballpark or not.

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