What types of images does your mind seem to evoke when you hear the term “theology?” Do you picture some old man sitting in an ivory towering, contemplating lofty ideas, which seem to pass over the minds of simpletons? Or perhaps more positively, you picture a great theologian (such as Augustine) sitting in solitude and reading big dusty books. Or maybe more negatively, you imagine some unidentified blogger taking cheap-shots at your favorite minister or preacher. Unfortunately, these are the some of the activities done under the guise of theology. If this is so…then it should come to no surprise that most Christians find little to no interest in doing theology. On the hand, theology does constitute reading, studying, increasing one’s vocabulary to include multi-syllabic words, and of course—a good deal of contemplation as well. However, doing theology is not tantamount to living the monastic life or committing oneself to being a social recluse.
When I think of theology, I typically think of Starbucks (where I do most of my reading). I also think of having great conversations about God with some of my closest Christian friends as well as with some of the great saints of the past. In a sense, what I am doing is defining “theology” as simply “God-talk,” rather than taking the more typical definition, “study of God.” However, defining theology as simply “God-talk” seems to me to reek of postmodern naiveté. This is where my post heading, “Dialogical Theology” comes into play. The aim of dialogical theology is to retain the rigorous study of theology, while at the same time, bringing that study into conversation with others.
In his book, How to Read Karl Barth, George Hunsinger states:
“Barth’s theology in the Church Dogmatics could be compared to the cathedral of Chartres. Once one’s eyes get used to the light, one discovers that one is inside an awesome and many-splendored structure, soaring with vaulted arches, arrayed with intricate passage-ways, adorned with exquisite statuary, and crowned above all by rose windows dancing with fire. The problem, then, is for one’s eyes to get used to the light. But once they do, no other architecture, no other theology, is likely to be quite the same. Back in the light of day, some contemporary theologies will begin to look more like lecture halls than cathedrals, others will stand out as respectable but limited sanctuaries, still others perhaps as monuments to suburban kitsch. There will of course be other cathedrals to visit, but they will have been constructed long ago. One effect of getting to know the cathedral of Barth’s theology is that it can help one appreciate the older cathedrals and make one want to spend time in them, too. But none of this will happen if one leaves the cathedral before one’s eyes get used to the light.” (Hunsinger, 27-28)
Hunsinger’s statement concerning the theology of Karl Barth is pertinent to our discussion of dialogical theology. What Hunsinger is essentially saying is this: Karl Barth is a good conversation partner for anyone desiring to discuss theology. This brings up an interesting point in that most theologians we read about, had at some point, a theologian that they were in constant dialogue with. For example, John Calvin constantly quotes and converses with Augustine throughout his works (some four thousand times in the Institutes alone). Today many theologians and ministers take Calvin, Luther, Barth and others as their conversation partners.
Who is your conversation partner? Who is your theological heavyweight?