There is an old Christmas hymn that I love:
Kenosis is one of those theological words that come from the Bible, but then does a lot of work outside of that context. It is very similar to the concept of the imago Dei because it occurs rarely in scripture yet has a very broad and varied theological history. Kenosis, throughout the centuries, has captured the imagination of many theologians and pastors.
Lord, you were rich beyond all splendor,Yet, for love’s sake, became so poor; Leaving your throne in glad surrender,Sapphire-paved courts for stable floor: Lord, you were rich beyond all splendor,Yet, for love’s sake, became so poor.[1]This hymn captures the heart of kenotic Christology, that Jesus became human and set aside the power and privilege of divinity. Within the Christian tradition, this concept is understood in different ways, and however we think about Kenosis is often how we think about the shape of the Christian life.
Kenosis is one of those theological words that come from the Bible, but then does a lot of work outside of that context. It is very similar to the concept of the imago Dei because it occurs rarely in scripture yet has a very broad and varied theological history. Kenosis, throughout the centuries, has captured the imagination of many theologians and pastors.
The word, Kenosis, comes from the Christ hymn in the second chapter of Philippians. Kenosis comes from verse 7: “but made himself nothing.” It can also be translated as “he emptied himself.” The King James translates it as “made himself of no reputation.” Kenosis, in this passage, talks about Jesus' move from divinity to humanity. Jesus becomes one of us, to the point of death on the cross. It is the wonder of this mystery that has lead to the development of a theology of Kenosis. Moreover, it is also about what it means to be humanity in the light of the God who became human.
Thus, how we understand Kenosis shapes our theology of discipleship—the ‘how’ and ‘what’ of being the people of God. Often the language used around Kenosis is joined with Christ’s command to pick up your cross and follow him. Narrative theologian, Michael Gorman, refers to this as the ‘cruciform’ life: our lives should have a cruciform shape.[2] In other words, to be true Christ followers, we must sacrifice ourselves. In this context, Kenosis is often translated ‘to empty out’. Thus, Christ empties himself out for us, and, as Paul says at the beginning of the Christ hymn, we must be of the same mind as Christ. In this way, we too must empty out ourselves or make ourselves nothing or of no reputation. We must die on our own cross.
But there has been some critique in the last 20 years with regard to the translation of Phil 2:7. Feminists, in particular, have wondered if a discipleship model based upon the sacrifice or the death of the self can ever be a positive model for women or marginalized peoples. Some feminist theologians (e.g., Radford Ruether, Bondi, and Coakley) point out that this understanding of Kenosis can perpetuate cycles of abuse and violence in the name of Christ. Those who are powerless are told that they must give up what little power that they have in order to follow in the way of Jesus. As Robert Bondi articulates this problem:
Hence, a discipleship model that focuses solely on the necessity of the death of the self will result in the harmful patterns for certain people. If you come from a place of power, perhaps discipleship models that are solely shaped by concepts of cruciformity and the death of the self can be empowering. However, discipleship models should be empowering for all people, in one way or another, because it is about how we are as the people of God in the world. If you do not come from a place of power then this kind of model could actually burn you out or even tear you down to the point of self-destruction or self-annihilation. As Roberta Bondi argues, “there cannot be love of others, much less love of God, where there is no self to do the loving.” [5]
The core of this kind of sin is really the underdevelopment of the self. And, if a self is required for the Christian life then in order to die to the self or to empty yourself out you must first have a self to give. I would also argue that no matter your definition of Kenosis, the self always remains intact. You must be you in order to be a disciple of Christ. Self-negation or self-dissolution is not the model that is consistent with scripture. If we really are to put on the mind of Jesus Christ, then we need to know something of the God who comes to us in the incarnation.
(Part II: Gordon Fee’s definition of Kenosis; Part III: Sarah Coakley’s contemplative solution.)
But there has been some critique in the last 20 years with regard to the translation of Phil 2:7. Feminists, in particular, have wondered if a discipleship model based upon the sacrifice or the death of the self can ever be a positive model for women or marginalized peoples. Some feminist theologians (e.g., Radford Ruether, Bondi, and Coakley) point out that this understanding of Kenosis can perpetuate cycles of abuse and violence in the name of Christ. Those who are powerless are told that they must give up what little power that they have in order to follow in the way of Jesus. As Robert Bondi articulates this problem:
The difficulty comes at the point where we are tempted to think that real Christian love is of such a self-sacrificial nature that Christians ought not to have a self at all. Instead they must give themselves away extravagantly for the ones they love, pouring themselves out like water into sand for the sake of those they love and serve. This does not work.[3]We might say that this pattern of discipleship as self-abnegation can be thought to be a path to salvation. But feminist point out that this model for discipleship actually reinforces negative patterns of living for some people and as Bondi so boldly puts it, “This does not work.” In the fall we talked about different models of sin that focus on pride, with a solution found in humility. To apply this to a model of atonement we can say that if sin is pride, then we must live into a place of humility in order to be saved. But if, for some people, sin is defined more as negation or the disappearance of the self (what some feminists talk about as ‘sloth’), then a discipleship model of humility would actually reinforce one’s sin, resulting in self-destruction.[4]
Hence, a discipleship model that focuses solely on the necessity of the death of the self will result in the harmful patterns for certain people. If you come from a place of power, perhaps discipleship models that are solely shaped by concepts of cruciformity and the death of the self can be empowering. However, discipleship models should be empowering for all people, in one way or another, because it is about how we are as the people of God in the world. If you do not come from a place of power then this kind of model could actually burn you out or even tear you down to the point of self-destruction or self-annihilation. As Roberta Bondi argues, “there cannot be love of others, much less love of God, where there is no self to do the loving.” [5]
The core of this kind of sin is really the underdevelopment of the self. And, if a self is required for the Christian life then in order to die to the self or to empty yourself out you must first have a self to give. I would also argue that no matter your definition of Kenosis, the self always remains intact. You must be you in order to be a disciple of Christ. Self-negation or self-dissolution is not the model that is consistent with scripture. If we really are to put on the mind of Jesus Christ, then we need to know something of the God who comes to us in the incarnation.
(Part II: Gordon Fee’s definition of Kenosis; Part III: Sarah Coakley’s contemplative solution.)
[1] Tune: French Traditional; Words: F. Houghton (1894-1972).
[2] See Michael Gorman, Cruciformity: Paul’s Narrative Spirituality of the Cross; idem, Inhabiting the Cruciform God.
[3] Roberta Bondi, To Pray and To Love, 76.
[4] “The temptations of woman as woman are not the same as the temptations of man as man, and the specifically feminine forms of sin – ‘feminine’ not because they are confined to women or because women are incapable of sinning in other ways but because they are outgrowths of the basic feminine character structure – have a quality which can never be encompassed by such terms as “pride” and “will-to-power”. They are better suggested by such items as triviality, distractability, and diffuseness; lack of an organizing center or focus; dependence on others for one’s own self-definition… – in short, underdevelopment or negation of the self…[T]he specifically feminine dilemma is, in fact, precisely the opposite of the masculine” (Saiving Goldstein, ‘The Human Situation’, p#?).
[5] Roberta Bondi, To Pray and To Love, 77.
Hey Chelle,
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading this series. But, I think we through this in class, what are we responding to with the protection of the self? How are people using the notion of "self-negation" in the sense that you are talking about? And when does a notion of the self or protecting of the self become unhelpful? Where does the denial of oneself come into the equation?
I guess for the me the door swings both ways which is why I avoid language of the self but I am interested in why it plays such an important role in your theology. I do think this comes up in Eccentric Existence and I am still dying to get your thoughts on that book. I know some faculty groups have read it together and maybe it would be a good thing for the TSS because it theological anthropology cuts across both lines (theology and psychology).
Hey Matt,
DeleteGood to hear from you and thanks for your thoughts. This is a lecture that I wrote last year and put it up because we missed class on Wednesday (snow day!!). My intent was to take another week on this lecture in order to add some other research I am doing right now, and then introduce Pneumatology this week. It was just easier to put this lecture up on the blog, and I can't skip introing Pneumatology!
Overall, the pressing question for me is not so much about 'the self' as an entity to be discovered or developed but about how selves are 'personed' before God and with others.
I think some of the research I have been doing more recently helps, but I don't have enough room in a short comment to get into this. Perhaps I should do another post... The core of what I have been reading is that the combination of prayer and our ongoing relationships helps us to see ourselves more honestly. We gain self-knowledge so that we can be more fully ourselves (we can no longer self-pretend or self-deceive). In being more fully ourselves we can be content before God and neighbor, and in that peace we are more free to be reconciling agents in the world.
The biggest paradox of the Christian life is that we have to lose ourselves to gain ourselves, but what we lose is our distorted view of what it means to be happy and content. In all of this, we need God. The mediation of the Holy Spirit and of Jesus is vital. We all want to claim the imago Dei for ourselves, but we rarely want to allow God in to our lives so that we can be transformed by the Spirit into the likeness of Christ. This is the shape of redemption in our lives.
Of course these are complex issues that I can't do just to in this short response. Perhaps I should do another post on all of this...
Peace-
Interesting. I guess I am not sold on what you are thinking needs to guarded is worth guarding. But I also think the only thing we can really claim the Imago Dei for is Jesus and how image that in our lives is where we are becoming most like ourselves, or maybe better put "find" ourselves (if I had to us self language). But I will look forward to hearing more.
DeleteBut that is exactly the point. It is only through Christ that we can truly become ourselves (that is the great paradox). This is why mediation is so important for my theology. Actually, the mediation of the Holy Spirit and Jesus is much more important for me than the doctrine of the imago Dei. All of this has to be taught layer by layer and even then it is difficult to pull apart and explore well. Ultimately, the goal is not to find ourselves or become self actualized, it is to live freely in love and communion with God and neighbor. (However, defining 'freedom' is just as difficult and precarious.)
DeleteRowan Williams, in his *Wound of Knowledge*, articulates well the tension between who we are and who we are becoming: "Men and women live between the two poles of ‘image’ and ‘likeness,’ call and response, opportunity and fulfillment: each human life is, therefore, a continuous story, a history, unified by its direction towards the promised communion with God for which it is created." I would say that it comes down to relationship, not the development or even the finding of the self. We are called to live into communion.
Thanks for keeping me on my toes. I'll think a bit more about all of this and check out Kelsey's book.
The way you explain it at the end of the first paragraph makes complete sense to me, and I guess what I was trying to say the end of that sentence hardly revolves around the word "self." I just read Tokens of Trust by the ArchBish and loved it. It actually would be a good Theology 1 book for the psychology students. I have being meaning to check out the Wound of Knowledge.
DeleteHere is Martyn quote that had got me thinking about freedom in Galatians. I like the idea of a "freeing of the will."
“Christ’s faith is not only prior to ours but also causative of it. The point is put beyond doubt when Paul says that the proclamation of Christ’s faithful death is what has the power to elicit our trusting faith (3:2). All of these passages, in a word, reflect Pal’s keen interest in the issue of the genesis of human faith. Those who believe in Christ are not puppets, moved about and made to speak by others … But, just as these persons are not puppet believers, so they are not believers as a result of an act of their own autonomous wills, as though the gospel were an event in which two alternatives were placed before an autonomous decider, and faith were one of two decisions the human being could make autonomously. On the contrary, for Paul faith does not lie in the realm of human possibility. Even to speak of faith as a ‘possibility granted by God’ can be misleading. For faith is not an option human beings can choose. Thus, when Paul speaks about placing one’s trust in Christ, he is pointing to a deed that reflects not the freedom of the will, but rather God’s freeing of the will. In Christ, the Son of god whose faith is engagingly enacted in his death, God invaded the human orb and commenced a battle for the liberation of the human will itself. And in the case of believers, that apocalyptic invasion is the mystery genesis of faith in Christ (cf. Phil 2:12-13; Gal 4:4-6).”