Theologia et Vita

The problem runs through every serious theology without exception. Paul tells the Philippians to work out their salvation with fear and trembling, and then immediately grounds the command in God's sovereign working in them both to will and to do (Phil. 2:12–13). He doesn't pause to explain the relationship. He doesn't seem troubled by the juxtaposition. That exegetical fact alone should tell you something about the nature of the debate: the tension is not an oversight Scripture corrects elsewhere. It is structural. The same phenomenon appears in John 6, where Jesus says that all the Father gives him will come to him and that everyone who comes to him he will never cast out, in consecutive breaths, without apology. Or in Isaiah 10, where Assyria is simultaneously the rod of Yahweh's anger and a nation that will be punished for its own pride. Scripture doesn't treat these as problems awaiting philosophical resolution. It lets them stand, which is either an invitation ...

Origen of Alexandria was almost certainly the first serious theologian to argue for universal salvation, and he paid for it eventually; his views were condemned at the Second Council of Constantinople in 553, more than three centuries after his death. That gap osn’t meaningless. It took the church a long time to formalize the condemnation because the arguments were not simple, and Origen was not a lightweight. His doctrine of apokatastasis , the "restoration of all things," drew on Acts 3:21 and 1 Corinthians 15:28 ("that God may be all in all"), and it was embedded in a cosmological vision of souls cycling back toward their divine origin through purification and growth. The modern universalist tradition looks quite different on the surface, as it tends to run through Schleiermacher, then Karl Barth's reworked election theology, then figures like Thomas Talbott, Robin Parry writing as Gregory MacDonald, and David Bentley Hart, whose 2019 polemic That All Shall B...

  Who Am I, Indeed, Lord? Seek not what is too difficult for you, nor investigate what is beyond your power. Reflect upon what has been assigned to you, for you do not need what is hidden. Do not meddle in matters that are beyond you, for more things are shown to you than men can understand. For many have been led astray by their own opinion, and an evil suspicion has caused their judgment to slip. (Sirach 3:21-24) Though I do not regard Sirach as canonical Scripture, there is a timeless wisdom here that has been following me around lately. It feels almost uncomfortably personal. Am I being presumptuous in trying to tackle the projects I have undertaken? There are plenty of men and women with better credentials, sharper minds, broader platforms, and far greater influence. Is this a legitimate calling, or just a subtler form of pride dressed up in theological clothing? I am not looking for reassurance. I am not fishing for compliments. I am simply trying to get these thoughts out of...

  Ussher's reputation has suffered the strange fate of being reduced to a single number. The exact date of creation, October 23, 4004 BC, sits in the margin of old King James Bibles like a punchline waiting for a more enlightened age to arrive and laugh at it, and for two centuries that age obliged. But the man who arrived at that date was Archbishop of Armagh, Primate of all Ireland, a friend of Selden and Camden and Laud (when he could stomach Laud, which was not often), and by most accounts the finest biblical chronologist Europe produced. Born in Dublin in 1581 to a family of some standing, he entered Trinity College Dublin at thirteen, which sounds precocious until you remember the institution was barely two years old itself and still finding its feet. He stayed associated with Trinity for most of his life, eventually as vice-chancellor, and the library he helped build there became one of the great theological collections of the British Isles. The chronology for which he's...

The word "race," applied to human beings as a biological taxonomy, comes to us largely through François Bernier, a French physician who published a 1684 classification of humanity into four or five distinct types based on physical appearance. The church did not produce this framework. Scripture certainly did not produce it. A traveling doctor sorting people by complexion produced it, and the colonial enterprise found it enormously useful, and it spread. That history matters because Christians sometimes speak as though racial categories are simply there, given in the nature of things, when they are a relatively recent intellectual invention that served specific political and economic functions. Genesis knows nations and languages and families. It does not know races. What the Bible does know is that every human being descends from Adam and Eve, which is a theological claim about solidarity before it is anything else. Acts 17:26 puts it with unusual directness: from...

  The parable of the wheat and tares (Matt 13:24–30, 36–43) appears only in Matthew and sits just a few verses after the parable of the four soils in the same discourse on the shore of Galilee, which I posted about recently. The two parables are frequently read together, and there is good reason for that; both deal with the response to the word of the kingdom, but they address different questions. The soils parable asks about the receptivity of individuals. This one asks about the visible community that the kingdom creates in the world and what God is doing with its mixed character. The Greek word rendered tares or weeds is zizania , which refers almost certainly to Lolium temulentum , darnel, a weed so closely related to wheat in its early stages that Palestinian farmers called it "false wheat." The two plants are genuinely indistinguishable until the grain head begins to form, at which point the darnel is visible by its smaller, darker seed. This agricultural specificity is...