Collective Imaginary Theology

Last fall and winter I visited quite a few evangelical blogs in an attempt to increase awareness of my alternative literal reading of Genesis 1. I didn’t even have much success introducing the topic, let alone engaging in fruitful or persuasive exchanges. Nevertheless, I became a regular visitor and commenter on a few blogs, and some of the people I encountered there remain regular contributors here at Ktismatics.

For awhile I spent quite a bit of time at Open Source Theology, a blog run by an Oxford-educated Englishman that serves as a public forum for exploring “emergent” or “post-evangelical” ideas about Christianity. Anyone who registers as a user can post, and the level of discourse is usually pretty darned good, mostly involving pastors and “amateurs” rather than theological academicians. While a fairly wide range of beliefs is represented there, they still fall within the expanding but still rather narrow constraints imposed by evangelicalism. Being a recovered evangelical myself I could usually find room to maneuver at OST without being harangued or entirely ignored. Anyway, at some point Peter, one of the regular contributors, put up a post about a trip he and his wife took to Prague, where they enjoyed a pleasant stay at Sir Toby’s Inn. For some reason I found this amusing: what the heck did this little travelogue have to do with theological discourse? So I wrote a comment asking if Sir Toby’s was actually the gathering place for a cabal of theologians who were hashing out an emerging evangelical theology. Over the next few months Peter and I were the main architects of the Sir Toby’s alternate reality (our friend Sam also contributed), a sort of post-medieval inn occupied by a strange collection of monks, bishops, nuns, flagellants, pilgrims and other strange personages. Much beer is drunk at Sir Toby’s, and under the tables dogs scuffle for food scraps dropped by the rather slovenly theologians who gather there. Either Peter or I would launch an idea for a conversation, then we would take turns adding to it until the episode reached a natural conclusion. Occasionally others (including Sam) would join in. After a few rounds of fairly whimsical discussion expressed in rather baroque verbiage, Sir Toby’s faded into the mists from which it had emerged.

The other day I got an email from Peter. He’s compiling materials about the various interesting characters who have visited OST since its inception, and he wanted to know if he could use some of the Sir Toby’s stuff I’d written. I said that was fine with me. Then I asked Peter whether he’d be interested in revisiting Sir Toby’s with the aim of possibly writing enough episodes to create a book. He thought that might be a good idea. I suggested that we do it either by email or on a dedicated blog. Peter says he finds that the OST crowd inspires him; I said that I find myself somewhat alienated there. Anyhow, this morning I wrote the beginning of another Sir Toby’s episode and posted it at OST. Readers of Ktismatics are more than welcome to go there and add to the story; however, if that’s not your cup of tea I’ll reproduce the first installment here.

I’m wondering a few things about Sir Toby’s. Can the episodes float free of the disputational polemics that usually characterizes online theological discussions? Does setting the discussion in a fictional heterotopia, with discussants adopting fictional alter-egos (Peter is the Trappist; I, the Old Man), encourage a more playful and imaginative approach that isn’t hampered by fears of being perceived as heretical? Is this sort of communal storytelling likely to generate better or worse ideas than the usual single-author approach? And if you don’t want to contribute to the string at OST, do you have any ideas for where the conversation could go next?

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Sir Toby’s: Invisibility Cloak

“With interest I have been reading the stories told of your Jesus.” The Old Man occupied his usual place by the fire, the thin trail of smoke that rose from his pipe adding to the perpetual haze which enveloped the coarse yet voluble theologians gathered at Sir Toby’s. His long and bony finger hovered above the scroll, begrimed and creased and rendered flexible by much use, that lay spread open before him on the table. “Tell me, by what good fortune did this valuable piece of correspondence from Luke to Theophilus come into your possession?”

“What?” Returning from the kitchen with yet another flagon of beer, the Ethiopian hermit glanced over the Old Man’s shoulder. “Oh yes, the letter is widely distributed among the Christians.”

“Ah, of course, a copy.” His finger traced a line of text. “In this particular story Jesus is teaching in the synagogue. Though I am not yet familiar with his particular wisdom, apparently it provoked no small controversy among his contemporaries.” Leaning back from the table the Old Man squinted at the scroll. “After reading from his holy book Jesus offers a brief observation about the text. His listeners marvel at the words that proceed from his mouth. Then, immediately after this success, he recounts an incident from the days of Elishah the prophet – apparently the incident was well-known among the people, for Jesus calls attention only to certain very specific features of what must have been a far longer account. Now those who but a moment before praised Jesus are enraged by him. Luke writes that they dragged Jesus from the synagogue to a precipice at the margins of the village, their intent being to cast him down, to his death perhaps.”

“You must understand the historical context,” pronounced the Alexandrian scholar, his words strongly accented but precise. “Though the Book of Kings is not specific about the duration of the drought, the three years and six months specified here by Jesus and later by James assume a well-known oral tradition that…”

“Excellent, well said,” the Old Man interjected loudly; the Alexandrian, stunned, held his tongue for a change. “Now look here,” the Old Man said, jabbing the text with the long nail of his index finger. “Jesus survives this assault. Does the mob relent? Do other voices rise up in support of Jesus? Does Jesus himself elaborate on the words that had provoked his listeners to such drastic measures? No indeed. I quote: ‘But passing through the midst of them he went away.’

With surprising agility the Old Man sprang to his feet. “Passing through the midst of them! Powerful magic indeed. Of course there are distractions and subterfuges available to even the least gifted of wizards. But the more powerful means of enchantment, the spells, the cloaks… well it’s unusual, isn’t it? To have performed this feat in such trying conditions, witnessed by so many people… And he seems to have used neither words nor devices to achieve the effect. Remarkable. Tell me: did Jesus ever reveal this secret magic by which he rendered himself invisible? Perhaps he passed this knowledge on to his apprentices?” Still standing, the Old Man leaned with both hands on the table and swept his expectant gaze around the inn.