I am part of a community of students in theology (http://www.theologysalon.org) exploring the question: Why theology? No doubt, we all have different answers to this question. I, myself, have more than one answer.
The largest and simplest answer (for me) is: Because I want to make the world a better place. It is not always clear – even to me – how theology can make the world a better place. Conversely, it is, unfortunately, often clear how theology has made the world a more divisive, a more hostile, and even a more violent place to live. Too often, theologies have marginalized human persons or even entire communities of persons. I suppose, then, that one way that theology can improve society is simply by deconstructing some of these “bad” theologies. I would like to think, though, that theology can also (re)construct the world in which we live in positive, life-affirming, diversity-affirming, and justice-affirming ways.
These days, as I prepare for my comprehensive exams, I am (re)reading the ancient theologies and philosophies of Plato, Plotinus, Proclus, Gregory of Nyssa, Dionysius the Areopagite, Eckhart, and others. As I read, it is not merely the agape-love of the Bible that is affirmed, but also the intellectual philos-love and passionate eros-love of Greek philosophy, which these theologians also find throughout the Biblical corpus – certainly in the Song of Songs, but also in the writings of Paul and others.
Few would debate that theology is concerned with love – but debates enflame when we begin to discuss the nature, quality, and content of love. Are we speaking only about love of god (objective genitive), god’s love (subjective genitive), the agape-love between husband and wife, agape-love among our fellow human persons, the intellectual love (philos) of god (subjective and objective)… or might we also be speaking of the erotic love between husband and wife, or even the erotic love between two men or two women?
What has theology to do with bodies? With sex? Are we to be ashamed of our bodies – to escape the ‘prison of the body’ and ascend to the realm of pure soul, of pure spirit, of pure immateriality? Or are we to affirm our bodies? Are we not created in god’s image – the imago dei of Genesis 1:26?
Suppose that we were to take this seriously. Suppose that we consider humans – mind, soul, and body – to be divine, as Genesis 1:26 attests and as the ancient Christian theologians affirmed. Suppose that we acknowledge that agape-love can lead us to do wonderful things, such as laying our life down for those we love, but also horrific things, like taking the life of another in defense of those we love. Suppose also that we acknowledge that erotic passion can lead us to do horrific things, such as rape, or wonderful things, such as the physical manifestation of human sexual union. Suppose, also, that what constitute the imago dei are not simply those qualities/traits that make us all the same – but also human diversity itself. In other words, it is not that there is some quality within us that makes each of us divine despite our diversity… rather, what makes each of us unique is precisely what makes us divine. Perhaps we might even read Genesis 1:26 literally – “And the gods (elohim is plural, as are all the verbs and pronouns in this verse) said, ‘Let us make humanity in our image after our likeness’.”
If, then, a human person is mind, soul, and body – and if what makes a person a person is one’s uniqueness, then one is the imago dei – the image of god – not in spite of, but because of one’s unique mind, unique soul, and unique body. To love another person – to truly love them – is to love what makes that person unique in mind, soul, and body. It follows that this would include intellectual love (philos), spiritual/soulful love (agape), and erotic love (eros).
This month, we at SoF come together – not in spite of but because of our diversity – to discuss the rampant hostility and marginalization of homosexual and transgendered persons in our communities and to speak out against it. For my part, I have taken a step back, to consider more broadly the issues of human diversity and physical sex in relation to Genesis 1:26 and the notion that we are made in the image of god. When we love another person for who they are – for what makes them unique in mind, soul, and body – then we love the very thing that makes them divine – their uniqueness. If that love is genuine and true – if it is intellectual love (philos), agape-love and erotic-love shared by two unique persons, each made in the image of god – then how can it be other than divine?
Note: The image above derives from the cover of Toward a Theology of Eros: Transfiguring Passion at the Limits of Discipline, edited by Virginia Burrus and Catherine Keller, which explores love and theologies of the body.
Brad, thanks for this post. You write a topic far too infrequently discussed.
Brad,
This us great. I echo Honna in the sentiment that this subject needs to and must be addressed more often. If we are made in the image of God, then we are made to enjoy our bodies, to feel sexual and to be sexual. We, as humans, are sacred beings, therefore our sexuality, and even our sex, is sacred. There, I said it.
Thanks again,
Karen
I’m curious what the motivation was behind using Munch’s Madonna as an image for this article. I’m not sure that Munch thought of sex as sacred. Certainly a part of nature, but he was mostly terrified of everything, especially women and their pending liberation.
It seems both fitting and ill-advised depending on the intentions. Good article though! Very interesting!
Megan
It is a great question, Megan – and I’m sorry to say that I am quite embarrassed… I didn’t even realize it was Munch’s Madonna! I often stress over what images to use for these posts. The image is actually the book cover of “Towards a Theology of Eros”, and anthology on the topic (which I am also embarrassed to say that I have not read!). However, I’ve studied closely with most of the contributors and editors of the volume, so I assume (I hope!) that they would have a good answer for you. They, no doubt, would have been particular about something like that. I, however, can only plead ignorance and desparation to find an image.
I will, though – try to find out why they used the image.
Thanks for a great question! Mea culpa!
Thanks for the info Brad! No need to apologize, I just think it’s interesting to think about the art on book covers sometimes.
I will be curious to find out what the authors of that book were thinking!
Megan
Megan – I’ve given it some more thought and I think I have a better response that resonates well with Steph’s comments below on the canvas that we receive and interpret… I am so used to thinking about textual hermeneutics and so very NOT used to thinking about visual art hermeneutics, that I failed to see that perhaps the two are not all that different.
Derrida’s “Signature Event Context” comes to mind – the (written) text “goes without saying” (“Il semble aller de soi”) – once the author births it and releases it, the envoy seems to go of itself – the intention of the one who crafted it remains with the craftsman – not with the creation. The text (or the canvas) means what it means. It is not disconnected or severed from its creator any more (or any less) than an infant from its mother. Whatever meaning Munch intended is but one of the canvas’ meanings – an important one to be sure! – but not the only one. The canvas that we receive, to borrow Stephanie’s language, is at once much less than and much more than what Munch intended.
I think I have to give this some more thought – but you have got me thinking! The imago dei of Gen 1:26 – the text that we receive today – the text that ‘goes without saying’ – means much less than and also much more than it did millennia ago. Il semble aller de soi – it seems to go of itself, of its own accord, by its own will – the spirit blows where she wills.
I don’t know – what do you think?
I think Munch’s Madonna (which I adore) was well chosen. Primarily I think art has more to do with audience reception than artist intention. Despite his own self expression as he explored these themes of love, death and fear, through his creations, and his anxieties and cynicism in a climate of sexual revolution, the paint on Munch’s canvas is what we receive and it is that which we interpret. The Madonna image appears to almost oppose his own character and perhaps express what he repressed. Pure, open, complete, and unconditional love. For me, the image is perfect. And Brad, your theology is wonderful. It’s perfectly defined, well supported and makes perfect sense in view of the earlier creation story. May your influence be great! (or Kia Kaha, as we say down under). Recognising natural sexual diversity is imperative to equal love.
Thanks Steph, for your very generous words and great reflections – see my response above, riffing on your insights.
Exactly – it’s the same thing. Both writing and painting are artistic creation and Derrida expresses the relationship between crafter, craft and receptor, perfectly.
Thanks for the post, Brad. A worthy topic of discussion indeed. You quote Gen 1:26 to include what being created imago dei has do with created diversity. Why not 1:27 in which said diversity includes first of all sexual differentiation as male and female (arguably the most important text for the discussion)? Given the nature of the kind of diversity being discussed this month, is the omission intentional? Asking us to ponder created diversity in a way that is intentionally divorced from the way Christian scripture speaks of it in the context you cite? Which, of course, you are free to do!
Also, I am no Hebrew scholar, but I am pretty the first verb in Gen 1:26 is in the singular (wayomer) which justifies reading elohim as a singular (the way it has been read by both Jews and Christians for quite some time, “And God said, Let us…”).
Ben, thanks, indeed, for your response. I certainly didn’t mean to imply anything by limiting my reflection to 1:26, nor did I intend to divorce the text from its context. My intention was more anthropological than exegetical. As for the Hebrew – I certainly welcome being called out on it. I confess that my Hebrew muscles have atrophied over the years from limited use! I think that my point still stands, though, that the plural language implies a nonhomogenized divine diversity – a sentiment further echoed in 1:27, as you point out. Is that the only way to read the text? No, I don’t mean to imply that.
All-in-all, though, I don’t feel as if I have, in any way, ‘proven’ anything in this reflection. I do think there is a problem, of sorts, with many neoplatonist Christian readings of the imago dei that tends towards essentialism and reductionism. If there is some essence of humanity that is divine, then essentialism seems to inevitably follow. If, though, it is our uniqueness – our singularity – that makes us truly human, then could this be what is referred to by the imago dei? The text – 1:26 and 1:27 – simply tell us that humans are created in the image of god – but there is much ambiguity there, no? I think there is more diversity in interpretations of this text within the heart of Christian orthodoxy than we might realize – and understandably so. My post simply reflects on the imago dei from a vantage of tri-fold Pauline anthropology (mind-soul-body) and what that might mean in terms of love (philos-agape-eros). I don’t see any Biblical, textual justification for saying that only the soul is divine (Augustine), only the mind is divine (Dionysius?), or only the body is divine. If the text doesn’t give us any reason for excluding one or another of the three, then don’t we have to accept the possibility of any or all three?
Sorry – my response meandered into another reflection! Should I hit delete or submit? I think I’ll hit…
I rather like this. If only religious institutions had been more consistently positive regarding erotic love I believe a lot of sexual prejudice would never have arisen.
Brad and Steph,
I hope you didn’t get the impression that I was trying to argue AGAINST the use of Munch’s painting. I think it fits well for the purpose of the discussion of erotic love as well.
I was merely trying to point out that the images we place on books, articles etc…deserve the same exegetical attention we give to the words inside those books. I guess that is why I was curious as to what the author’s exegetical thoughts about Munch’s painting in this context might be.
It sounds like we are in basic agreement though. I agree there is a time and a place (art history class perhaps) to really try to understand the point of view of the artist, and then there is a time and a place to take what we experientially know as viewers and apply it to the work of art.
I hope this conversation leads future authors of all future books to take into consideration the exegesis of their cover art and perhaps even comment about their choices in the forwards of their books!
Hi Megan,
No, I didn’t get the impression that you were arguing in favor or against the choice of Munch. Your question did make me think quite a bit. I had not really given art exegesis that much thought prior to your question – and now I have, so I was very pleased with the question you posed.
I did hear from the editor/authors of the book about their reasons for choosing the image. They asked that I not post their response here, however. I do think that there are some authors who just leave that up to the publisher – but these authors certainly chose the image carefully. I was the one who hadn’t given it sufficient thought — but now I have, so thanks!
I hope you are happy with it – I think it’s perfect … although I haven’t read the book I’m basing my biased judgement purely on the basis of this article! 😉
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