Craig Keen

After Crucifixion


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that come with the fetish character of goods.” Kierkegaard, Works of Love, 321: “Oh, when you think of God, never forget that he does not have the least understanding about money.”

      1

      The Root from Which They Spring

      Introductions

      Take off your old coat and roll up your sleeves,

      I have been a university teacher for about a third of a century. My area of presumed expertise is theology. Theology is, if it is anything at all, a way of giving attention to God. Simply put, professors of theology profess God. That is why good people send their children off to college to study with theologians, with people like me. And I—professor that I am—do profess God, overtly, loudly, passionately. What is so embarrassing, though, is that I have such a hard time saying what it is that God means. You would think that someone laboring in this field for so long would have at least that much nailed down! Yet I must confess that I do not.

      The problem is not that I am a closet infidel, hiding behind some plastic mask of public piety (like a candidate running for office). I try very hard to be honest and open, particularly where I am most professional. That is, my comprehension-failure is no secret. In fact I would think nothing would be more evident, as I go on and on in class, than that I strain just to get that black hole of a little three-letter word out. But, of course, my task as a professor of theology is not just to get that one word out; I am to throw out a whole galaxy of words and ideas and images and passions and practices that are agitated by and drawn into that black hole.

      Of course, speaking of God in this way is hopeless. To say “God” in the field where I labor is surely not to say “a compressed and compressing density, that heaviest, darkest phenomenon of orthodox physics.” And though there are speculative physicists and writers of science fiction who think of a black hole as a portal to another, distant point in space-time—and it might not be out of the question to think of one as an exit portal to some altogether different configuration of space-time, some new cosmos even—I have for a long time now been unable to speak of God as a way out of this earthy world. Speaking of God seems rather to be a way into it, even if as an alien.

      There, I have already said too much. My location is showing. Yet there is nothing surprising about that. Every college sophomore knows that God is tradition-specific.