A few years ago in a, perhaps feverish, reflection on a hospital bed, I thought of the first example we have of a theological discussion. In Genesis 3 the serpent asked the woman,
"'Did God really say you were not to eat from any of the trees in the garden?' The woman answered the serpent, 'We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden. But of the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden God said,"You must not eat it, nor touch it, under pain of death"'. Then the serpent said to the woman, 'No! You will not die! God knows in fact that on the day you eat it your eyes will be opened and you will be like gods, knowing good and evil.' The woman saw that the tree was good to eat and pleasing to the eye, and that it was desirable for the knowledge that it could give." (Gen.3:1-6, Jerusalem Bible)
The J.B. titles the chapter "The Fall" and it occurred to me that the Fall already happened in their theological discussion, for they were talking about God
as if God was not present. Adam, by the way, is not off the hook, as he was "with her" (v.6) and his
silence was a distinct and complicit participation, as was clear from what followed.
One thing our first theologians do get right (for all their bad faith and rationalisation of desire) is that they understand their discussion to be leading to decisive and momentous action. Their discussion is guiding their
way forward and is an integal and decisive part of their human process forward in time (their moral or spiritual
journey).
The early Christians called their sect "the Way" (
Acts 24:14) and considered themselves "followers of the Way" (
Acts 9:2). Not surprising, as Jesus did a lot of purposive travelling and called his disciples to "follow", to take up their cross and follow. The great advantage of this metaphor is that it leads us to consider our whole self, in all its activity, over a whole lifetime, as moving towards a full union with our loving God. We are not asked (and graced) to do just this or that, we are asked (and graced) to do everything in and towards God. Already in
Acts the metaphor is supple enough to embrace this deepest of spiritual meanings and also to evoke the destiny of the whole community. Jesus had brought his "good news" to a people who understood themselves as saved by an Exodus and a Return from Exile, two Ways. This all culminates in Jesus' offer to be the Way (for us) (
John 14:6).
There is a great advantage in seeing theology as a "via", as a part or one form of the Christian Way. It reminds us that theology, to be part of the Christian Way, must have all the character of total engagement, must be done in the presence of God, must be a discourse about the way forward and about the God who draws us to union. On this Way and in the Way (Jesus), we are spoken to, addressed. Our hearing, the work of understanding, and the discourse of our response happen in faith, confession, liturgy, contemplative prayer and theology. (Our full hearing issues in "doing" the works of necessity, creative works, and the works of love and justice). In my first fervour about this, I concluded that theology to be true to its nature should always be in the second person, an address to God in the manner of St. Augustine's
Confessions. I'll write later about why I don't think so now.