Deconstruction, Classical Theism, and Abraham’s Silence: Conceptual Connections between Three Blog Posts

I had a revelation about the last three blog posts I’ve written, specifically about how they are all connected.

One post was on deconstruction and reconstruction of faith. One was on why I am not a classical theist. And the third was my creative proposal for what Abraham should have said to God in Genesis 22 (instead of his silent attempt to sacrifice Isaac).

I have come to realize there are multiple connections between these blog posts. I was aware of some of them at the time, but other connections seem to have been subconscious.

Deconstruction and Reconstruction of Classical Theism and Abraham’s Silence

I already understood that I was “deconstructing” classical theism and the traditional interpretation of Abraham’s silence.

My “reconstruction” of the former was to suggest that a relational view of God was more faithful to Scripture than a view of God as unmoved by anything outside of the divine nature.

My “reconstruction” of the latter was to argue that Abraham should have protested God’s command for him to sacrifice his son and prayed for Isaac, rather than silently attempting to obey the command (that was the basic argument of my book Abraham’s Silence).

God’s Relationality as the Basis for Critiquing Abraham’s Silent Obedience

In Abraham’s Silence, among the reasons I gave for why Abraham should have pleaded with God for his son was the prominent biblical pattern of vigorous prayer (found in the lament psalms, Moses’s intercession for Israel, Job’s protests, Abraham’s bold intercession for Sodom, and Jesus’s teaching on prayer in the New Testament).

This understanding of prayer is grounded firmly in a relational view of God—a God who is impacted by the human dialogue partner, in distinction to the the immovable God of classical theism.

I guess that this view of God is so ingrained in me that I didn’t have to consciously think about it.

(Neo)Platonism and Abraham’s Silence

Then, some comments by Brian Walsh and Sylvia Keesmaat in response to my blog about classical theism suggested a further connection between the three posts—namely, Neoplatonism, or at least the traditions of Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy that preceded Neoplatonism proper.

It was in those traditions of Greek philosophy that we get the idea that God is unaffected by emotion or by any outside influences.

And if humans are made in the image of this God, then we would naturally valorize (in Sylvia Keesmaat’s words) “the strong silent male who doesn’t demonstrate any emotion when asked to do something that should tear his heart out, and who believes that God is not open to dialogue and challenge.”

This is remarkably similar to how Abraham is thought of in many traditional interpretations of Genesis 22.

So—wonder of wonders—it actually looks like there is some coherence to my thinking about disparate subjects (even when I am not aware of it).

On Deconstruction and Reconstruction of the Christian Faith

There has been a lot of talk over the past twenty years or so about “deconstructing” the Christian faith (especially its evangelical versions). The problem, however, is that sometimes there is no substantial reconstruction that aims to recover the authentic, classical faith tradition—beyond its distortions.

I Began Deconstruction as an Undergraduate Theology Student

Although I would not have described it that way at the time, I was engaged in deconstruction (and reconstruction) of my faith from the very start of my undergraduate theological studies in Jamaica. I was blessed with a pastor at Grace Missionary Church and with professors at Jamaica Theological Seminary who welcomed healthy questioning and modeled an open and generous—fully orthodox—Christianity.

I have come to realize that this openness to questioning inherited traditions was also a function of doing theology in the Majority World, since both professors and students were vividly aware of the need for contextualization of the faith for the sake of the Caribbean church. We were thus prepared to challenge received versions of our church traditions, especially when they were shaped by Eurocentric or American biases. Professors and (especially) students in my Jamaican context were unafraid to dismantle what we thought was unhelpful, while seeking to be grounded in a better version of the core tradition of our faith.

As a result of my formative theological education in Jamaica, the deconstruction-reconstruction dialectic has been central to all my teaching and writing over the years.

Deconstruction and Reconstruction in My Writing

As a biblical scholar, committed to the renewal of the church, I have typically challenged received interpretations of Scripture in my books and articles. My approach has been to try and show that these interpretations are not rooted in a best reading of Scripture nor are they helpful for faithful living in our complex world.

To that end I have written books on a holistic Christian worldview (The Transforming Vision), the relevance of the Bible in our postmodern context (Truth Is Stranger than It Used to Be), humanity created in God’s image (The Liberating Image), new creation eschatology (A New Heaven and a New Earth), and Abraham’s silent attempt to sacrifice Isaac in the context of the Bible’s prayers of vocal protest (Abraham’s Silence).

In each case, I have attempted to propose better interpretations of these topics than what I found in the received tradition—better in that they arise from more careful reading of Scripture and that they have transformative implications for human life in the real world.

Deconstruction and Reconstruction in My Teaching—Toward a Christian Worldview

This dialectic of deconstruction and reconstruction is at the core of a signature course on a Christian worldview that I have been teaching (and constantly developing) for many decades, focusing on biblical theology in dialogue with the contemporary world.

The early versions of this course (which I taught when I was a campus minister in Southern Ontario, Canada) led to a co-authored book with Brian Walsh, called The Transforming Vision: Shaping a Christian World View (IVP, 1984).

Next year I will begin working on a new version of that book, based on the way the course has evolved over the years. My tentative title for the new book is Shaped by God’s Story: Christian Worldview in a Global Key (also with IVP, set to be released on the fortieth anniversary of The Transforming Vision).

The course challenges students to rethink their orientation to life by re-reading Scripture as a grounding story that takes seriously our pain and our hopes. The course combines engaged biblical interpretation with historical analysis of the church’s sacred/secular dualism, the western myth of conquest and progress, and the postmodern condition, while encouraging students to explore their calling in God’s world.

I’ve been teaching this course since 2002 for undergraduates at Roberts Wesleyan University under the title “Exploring the Christian Worldview.” I’ve also taught a version of the course since 2011 for graduate students at Northeastern Seminary, where it is called “Being in the Story.”

More than any other course, this one often leads to student disorientation. As the course progresses, it is common for students to exclaim with dismay, “Oh no, I need to unlearn everything I have been taught!” I usually point out that they may need to unlearn some things, but that they typically have a pretty solid and stable core of faith to build on.

Starting with Trust, before Deconstruction

I have learned not to begin with deconstruction. A hermeneutic of suspicion is an important second step in the learning process; but we need to start with a hermeneutic of trust (and trust is where we end too). First, I offer students a more excellent way; then comes the critique of unhelpful tradition.

The metaphor that I use to explain my pedagogy is as follows: I begin by offering students the rich, plush carpet of biblical faith, then I gently begin to pull the threadbare rug of bad theology and inadequate biblical interpretation out from under them. They usually step quite eagerly onto the plush carpet.

At the end of one memorable course in Old Testament theology, which I taught at the Caribbean Graduate School of Theology in Jamaica while on sabbatical, a student stood up on the last day of class and said (with a huge smile on his face): “Professor, you destroyed my theology!”

Of course, he had found something better. That’s the way deconstruction ought to work.