Just How Augustinian is Bonhoeffer?

 

Eberhard Bethge’s definitive biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer runs to over 1,000 pages in length, and contains only three references to St. Augustine.  Bethge first mentions that Bonhoeffer took a seminar on Augustine’s City of God from Adolf von Harnack in the winter semester of 1925-1926.[1]  During the same period, Bonhoeffer was reading Reinhold Seeberg’s Textbook of the History of Doctrines, from which Bonhoeffer first gained his knowledge on Augustine.[2]  Lastly, Bethge mentions that Bonhoeffer had an affinity for Augustine’s saying that “the heart is restless until it rests in God”; while an assistant pastor in Barcelona in 1928-1929, Bonhoeffer used this quote in several different sermons.[3]  By Bethge’s account (and there is little reason to take issue with it) Martin Luther and especially Karl Barth played a much more prominent role in the shaping and development of Bonhoeffer’s theology.  This seems to suggest that Augustine is present in a number of ways, especially early in Bonhoeffer’s development, but does not readily stand out as a key figure that had a direct and lasting influence on his theological formation.

            Bonhoeffer does make explicit and significant use of Augustine in his doctoral dissertation, Sanctorum Communio, but the great Church Father seems to fade quickly into the background of his subsequent theological work.  Bonhoeffer scholarship at large consequently limits the discussion of Augustine to the early period.[4]  Yet, careful analysis of the primary sources reveals a lasting Augustinian influence in Bonhoeffer’s thought.  The direct citation and appropriation of Augustine retreat after the Barcelona sermons, but the foundations are set for a lifetime of creative and direct application of Augustine’s theology.

            Augustinian influence on Bonhoeffer’s work is particularly evident in regards to his consideration of the Psalms – his favorite portion of Scripture.  The Psalms helped shape his devotional life and influenced his theology, especially during times of considerable hardship and anxiety.  Bonhoeffer was particularly attentive to the message of the psalmist during his time as director of the preacher’s seminary at Finkenwalde from 1935 to 1937.  Life Together and the short essay Prayerbook of the Bible were both composed during this period and both contain significant reflections on praying the Psalms.  Here, Bonhoeffer employed a decidedly Augustinian approach to exegesis and hermeneutics; he placed Jesus Christ and the church at the very center of interpretation.  This was Augustine’s approach, in common with many of the Church Fathers, and even Luther much later, but entirely out of step with Bonhoeffer’s education at the University of Berlin, where historical-critical methodology was commonly (if not universally) employed.

            This paper proposes that Bonhoeffer’s commitment to a Christ-centered interpretation of the Psalms derives in part from his continuing appreciation of – and interaction with – Augustine.  Admittedly, Augustine is not the only or even the most important influence upon Bonhoeffer’s Christ-centered approach to exegesis; surely both Barth and Luther played a more active role in this regard.  But to minimize (or overlook altogether) Augustine’s influence on Bonhoeffer’s theological development would lead to a distorted view of Bonhoeffer’s own theological reflections and constructions, especially in regards to Bonhoeffer’s work on the Psalms.  More specifically, the unique meaning of his Prayerbook of the Bible and a pastoral document titled “Meditations on Psalm 119” from 1939-1940 is revealed only when they are read alongside Augustine’s Expositions of the Psalms.  Not only is Bonhoeffer’s interpretive methodology for the Psalms clearly elucidated through the lens of Augustine, but Augustine’s own exegesis of Psalm 119 finds surprising parallels in Bonhoeffer’s “Meditation on Psalm 119.”  Scholars have recognized that Bonhoeffer had in his possession a marked-up copy of Augustine’s Expositions on the Psalms from 1936.  Even though Bonhoeffer neglected to make reference to (or cite) Augustine in his work on the Psalms, this paper will illustrate that Augustine remained a faithful and vital theological and pastoral interlocutor for him at this crucial time in his life.

            To make this argument, it will be necessary first to set out the specific origins of Augustine’s thought on Bonhoeffer.  Of particular importance will be Bonhoeffer’s discovery of the Augustinian use of the concept sanctorum communio.  Not only did this become the title of Bonhoeffer’s doctoral dissertation, the concept became a defining aspect of his entire theology.  Next, the investigation will describe how Augustine and Bonhoeffer each came to significant interaction with the Psalms.  Their similar, yet distinct, interpretive methods will then be displayed in a comparison of their exegetical work on Psalm 119:1-3.  Finally, the conclusions of Bonhoeffer’s work with the Psalms will be applied to a larger theological project that is seeking to describe the development of Bonhoeffer’s theology of discipleship.  For Bonhoeffer, praying the Psalms was an integral aspect of the “action of discipleship,” which found its true form as Christ-centered belief-obedience.

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[1] See Eberhard Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Biography, rev. ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 67.

[2] See Bethge, Bonhoeffer, 70.

[3] See Bethge, Bonhoeffer, 112.

[4] See Barry Harvey, “Augustine and Thomas Aquinas in the Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer,” in Bonhoeffer’s Intellectual Formation: Theology and Philosophy in His Thought, ed. Peter Frick (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 11-18.

Is Pride the Root of All Sin?

Pride and Sin in the Augustinian Tradition

            Augustine argues that pride is the root of every sin.  In Book XII, chapter 6 of City of God, pride is identified as the cause for the evil angels’ misery; in Book XIV, chapter 13, writing of the first human sin, Augustine similarly asks, “could anything but pride have been the start of the evil will?”[1]  In both sections, Augustine employs the logic behind Ecclus. 10:13: “the beginning of all sin is pride.”[2]  Fallen angels and the first humans both turn their gaze inwards, towards themselves, and in doing so they demonstrate a longing for “a perverse kind exaltation.”[3]  Instead of fixing their gaze upon the immutable God, these creatures – created ex nihilo[4] – seek a change within themselves.  This prideful desire is the beginning of the evil will and quickly leads to the first evil act of disobedience.  Conversely, then, the sign of obedience is humility, and it is humility which in actuality exalts.  For Augustine, this is because, “devout humility makes the mind subject to what is superior.  Nothing is superior to God; and that is why humility exalts the mind by making it subject to God.”[5]  This dichotomy between humility and pride are defining characteristics of Augustine’s two cities.  Love of God is the first prize in the heavenly city, while those abiding in the temporal city seek only to love themselves.[6]

            Augustine’s understanding of pride establishes what becomes a classic theological formulation of sin.  The notion that pride caused the original rebellion against God can be traced from Augustine, through theologians like Thomas Aquinas,[7] and well into twentieth century theology.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer, for example, works from the same Ecclus. 10:13-14 passage in his 1939 book Life Together to argue that “the spirit and flesh of human beings are inflamed by pride, for it is precisely in their wickedness that human beings want to be like God.”[8]  Like Augustine before him, Bonhoeffer claims that confession of our inherently selfish pride only comes through identifying with the humiliation of the cross of Jesus Christ.  This theological tradition certainly has its merits; it seems quite clear that pride plays a crucial role in humankind’s rejection of God.  However, recent feminist theology offers a needed critique of the simple notion of equating “pride” with “sin.”

A Necessary Critique

            Bonhoeffer scholar Lisa Dahill points to the abuse and exploitation of women as a warning against a simplistic insistence that one must always humble oneself to overcome any and all sin.  She recounts the story of Shirley, who attended a lecture at her church that explained how Bonhoeffer’s concept of loving one’s enemy involved complete and utter surrender to the “other,” even to the point of surrendering one’s life.  Afterwards, Shirley remarked to the lecturer, “if I had been hearing this theology thirty years ago, I would be dead right now.”[9]  Bonhoeffer’s specific historical and contextual theological expositions on the necessity of self-denial had been universalized by the lecturer to suggest that someone like Shirley, who one night found herself being strangled by a male aggressor, could only overcome the evil through selfless humiliation.  Fortunately that night, Shirley forcefully exerted herself and was able to flee to safety.  Dahill’s point is that Bonhoeffer’s (and thus Augustine’s) unchallenged notions of the relation between selfhood, pride, and sin need to be reassessed, particularly taking into account the experience and theology of those outside a tradition that is so often dominated by Western males.

            It would not be historically and theologically fair to assert that the entirety of Bonhoeffer’s and Augustine’s understanding of sin can be reduced to pride.  Certainly both theologians argue that pride ushered in the first acts of sin, and they both frame their argument around the claim in Ecclus. 10:13 that the root of all sin is pride.  However, William Mann points out that Augustine “is careful to insist that pride is not a component in all sins.”  Some sins, for example, “are committed in ignorance or desperation.”[10]  Mann cites Augustine’s De natura et gratia in offering this clarification.  In City of God, on the other hand, Augustine does not seem to find it necessary to explore conceptions of sin beyond the inherent connection with pride.  And it is this exposition in City of God that serves, at least in part, to establish a dominant and lasting theological understanding of sin. 

Context is the Root of Application

Bonhoeffer certainly relies on this Augustinian tradition of interpretation, but Dahill is right to insist on the necessity of critical contextualization in the appropriation of Bonhoeffer’s theology, especially around the issue of selfhood.  She argues that such a claim “is consistent with Bonhoeffer's own lifelong insistence that truth is never abstract, absolute, or fixed, but requires prayerful, concrete discernment in every new context within the flow of highly complex social-historical circumstances.”[11]  Contemporary theology would then do well to appropriate the likes of Augustine and Bonhoeffer’s claim that pride is the root of all sin with careful nuance.  Application of this theology must be met with deliberate awareness of the potentially disastrous consequences that an unfettered equation of “pride” with “sin” could wreak on the life of someone like Shirley.

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[1] Augustine, City of God, trans. Henry Bettenson (Penguin Classics, 2003), 571.

[2] Augustine, City of God, 477.  The translator renders the verse as “pride is the start of every kind of sin” in the second instance, 571.

[3] Augustine, City of God, 571.

[4] For Augustine, that God creates ex nihilo – out of nothing – is decisive in explaining how sin could have entered the world through God’s good creation: “But only a nature created out of nothing could have been distorted by a fault.  Consequently, although the will derives its existence, as a nature, from its creation by God, its falling away from its true being is due to its creation out of nothing.”  See Augustine, City of God, 572.  William Mann explains that Augustine’s concept of good creation ex nihilo is especially important to Augustine’s work in resolving the problem of evil.  See Mann, “Augustine on Evil and Original Sin,” in The Cambridge Companion to Augustine, eds. Eleonore Stump and Norman Kretzmann (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 41-42.

[5] Augustine, City of God, 572.

[6] Augustine, City of God, 573.

[7] The editor references Aquinas’ Summa Theologica, 2a-2ae, q. 162, a. 7 and Augustine to illustrate the trajectory of this doctrine in Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, volume 5 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, English edition, ed. Geffrey B. Kelly (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 111.

[8] Bonhoeffer, Life Together, 111.

[9] Lisa Dahill, “Reading from the Underside of Selfhood: Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Spiritual Formation,” Journal of Lutheran Ethics 3, no. 8 (August 2003), para. 3, http://www.elca.org/What-We-Believe/Social-Issues/Journal-of-Lutheran-Ethics/Issues/August-2003/Readings-from-the-Underside-of-Selfhood-Dietrich-Bonhoeffer-and-Spiritual-Formation.aspx (accessed April 17, 2012).

[10] Mann, “Augustine on Evil and Original Sin,” 47.

[11] Dahill, “Reading from the Underside of Selfhood,” para. 6.

Bonhoeffer's 1933 Christology Lectures: Liberal and Dialectical Theology on the Way to Discipleship

            The 1933 summer semester at the University of Berlin opened with a massive bonfire of burning books.  Students and professors joined the SA in celebrating May 10 as national “will to live” day by tossing the works of Einstein, Freud, Rathenau, Heuss, and others into the flames; the same spectacle could be observed in university towns all across Germany.  Joseph Goebbels, Adolf Hitler’s Minister of Propaganda, concluded the anti-intellectual ceremony in Berlin by exclaiming, “Oh century, oh scholarship, it is a joy to be alive!”[1]  Among those whose name was ritualistically shouted by the crowd as his book went up in flames was Heinrich Heine.  A century earlier he had written: “When they burn books, they will ultimately also burn people.”[2]

            Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945) was a junior lecturer at the University of Berlin that summer, and he offered a lecture series on Christology.  He considered the course his most demanding and difficult because, as his biographer Eberhard Bethge explains, “he had to bring together all of his thoughts, statements, and experiments and test their validity and foundation.”[3]  Bonhoeffer was now at the high point of his academic career, and the series on Christology forced him to articulate succinctly this aspect of his theology.  However, the course was not carried out in theological isolation.  The stirring events around the rise and rule of Hitler and Nazism were a constant combatant against the core of Bonhoeffer’s being and beliefs.  At one point during the semester, Bonhoeffer chose to cancel a lecture in order to organize and prepare leaflets for church elections.  He led a group of students and German Evangelical church sympathizers in forming the Young Reformation movement to act against the rising influence of the so-called German Christians in church leadership.  The church election was largely rigged in favor of the German Christians, who were swept into power in July of 1933.[4]

            In the midst of these early tumultuous months of Hitler’s rule, Bonhoeffer presents an original and cohesive Christology.  The Christology lectures certainly build and work from concepts developed in earlier works, like his dissertation Sanctorum Communio and his habilitation Act and Being, but they also offer a clear way forward for Bonhoeffer’s emerging theology of discipleship.  Bonhoeffer addresses the central question “who is Jesus Christ” in the lectures.  In doing so, he provides insights that, as was noted by Bethge above, work to bring together all of his experimental thoughts and ideas.

Two sources specifically force Bonhoeffer into the creative work of theological construction: liberal theology and its nemesis dialectical theology both exert a strong influence on Bonhoeffer’s development.  The Christology lectures afford the opportunity to examine how successfully Bonhoeffer appropriated the two divergent theological traditions.  Liberal theology, espoused by his eminent teacher and mentor Adolf von Harnack, relied solely on the science of historical study to discover the human Jesus of Nazareth.  Theologically, however, Bonhoeffer was much more drawn to the emerging work of dialectical theology and its commitment to revelation, represented by Karl Barth.  But Bonhoeffer was never so critical of liberal theology as to dismiss its insights.  Instead, he works, especially in the Christology lectures, to coherently incorporate liberal theology into dialectical theology.  The result, this paper argues, are critical Christological formulations that serve to frame Bonhoeffer’s larger development of a theology of discipleship.  This theology of discipleship acts as both a summary of Bonhoeffer’s driving question, “who is Jesus Christ,” and it provides a compelling way to help formulate a contemporary theological construction of discipleship.[5]

            The paper will proceed in three phases.  First, it will address the historically decisive divide between the liberal theology of Harnack and the dialectical theology of Barth in order to show how Bonhoeffer seeks to provide a critical but fair incorporation of liberal into dialectical theology.  Second, it will show how this move of incorporation propels his construction of a “positive” Christology in the lectures.  Finally, the paper will argue that this positive Christology in turn provides an important framework for Bonhoeffer’s emerging theology of discipleship.

(Excerpt from Winter 2012 seminar paper)

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[1] See Eberhard Bethge, Bonhoeffer: A Biography, rev. ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress: 2000), 279-80 and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Berlin: 1932-1933, vol. 12 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, English edition, ed. Larry L. Rasmussen (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 4.  Subsequent references to the English edition of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works will be abbreviated as DBWE.

[2] Bonhoeffer, DBWE 12, 4.

[3] Bethge, Bonhoeffer, 219.

[4] See Bethge, Bonhoeffer, 293-95.

[5] This paper is part of a larger historical and constructive theological project that offers the development of a theology of discipleship as a key hermeneutic in the life and thought of Bonhoeffer.

Fully Human and Fully Divine: Searching for Reasonableness in the Mystery

One of the classic challenges of Christology is trying to articulate how Jesus Christ is both and at once fully human and fully divine.  There have been 2000 years of debate on this issue, and much effort was expended especially in the early church to preserve the truth of this seeming contradiction.  One of the classic definitions of the Christian faith came at the ecumenical council of Chalcedon in 451, with the affirmation of the "hypostatic union," wherein it was upheld that the one person Jesus Christ fully maintained a divine nature and a human nature.  Since that declaration, theologians and philosophers have been trying to metaphysically explain this reality.  And some have been more convincing than others.

Marc A. Hight and Joshua Bohannon are two contemporary philosophers who claim that the metaphysical philosophy of the immaterialist George Berkley (an 18th century Anglican bishop) is the best way to explain the nature of reality and the nature of the Incarnation. (Immaterialsim claims that there are no material things; everything is immaterial, consisting of ideas.)  However, they offer, in my estimation at least, a curious rationale for their study and adoption of an immaterialist ontology.  In their article, “The Son More Visible: Immaterialism and the Incarnation,” they aim to employ Berkeley’s immaterialist framework to offer a “more reasonable way” to explain the mystery of the Incarnation of Jesus Christ.  Doing so, they claim, will show that, “there are strong reasons for thinking that if one wants to be a Christian one ought to be an immaterialist.”[1]  I find their rationale curious because they want to affirm the mystery that is inherently necessary to the Christian faith, but they insist on guarding against any hint of absurdity (i.e. anything that is contrary to reason).  Immaterialism, they argue, provides enough reason to explain the mystery of the Incarnation (and by extension the Christian faith), while leaving enough of the mystery intact for faith to fill the gap.  Just what constitutes “enough” reason and “enough” mystery to be palatable is not explicated.  And I find this curious (if not unsatisfactory).

I am much more sympathetic to an understanding of the Incarnation that is willing to fully embrace the mystery of, in the phrasing of Chalcedon, the hypostatic union.  That Jesus Christ is fully human and fully divine is indeed perplexing, and there is certainly room for reasonable debate about how this mysterious union could come about.  But this union is a mystery which no amount of reasoning can satisfy.  I certainly am not advocating for abandoning the theological, historical, and philosophical task of investigating the mysteries of the Incarnation, but I want to be careful to remember that they are first and foremost mysteries.  In this sense, I find a theologian like Dietrich Bonhoeffer helpful.  His “Lectures on Christology,”[2] delivered in the summer semester of 1933 at the University of Berlin, are careful to affirm the mystery of the hypostatic union while offering compelling (and reasonable) explanation and critique of pertinent historical and philosophical issues.

So I return to the question of finding the balance between the mystery and the reasonableness of, specifically, the Incarnation.  Both Hight and Bohannon and Bonhoeffer operate within an internal threshold of what is appropriately reasonable and what should be left to mystery in the Christian faith generally, and the Incarnation specifically.  Both offer thoughtful and coherent arguments, and both offer something productive to the present conversation on models of the hypostatic union.  Just how convincing their arguments are, I suppose, are left to how much mystery I can stomach.  The issues that Hight and Bohannon present really come down to identifying one's level of commitment to reason and mystery as governing principles.  Hight and Bohannon offer important (and largely cohesive and coherent) inner arguments in favor of immaterialism, but I believe their argument is flawed from the beginning because of their assumption that the hypostatic union as traditionally conceived is "absurd."  Bonhoeffer, on the other hand, makes as his starting point the "incomprehensibility" of the Incarnation.  He searches and strives to understand the comprehensible, always knowing that it is most reasonable to grant mystery the upper hand.  In a very real sense, Hight and Bohannon (following Berkeley) are most interested in the "how" question of the Incarnation.  However, if we take our cue from Bonhoeffer, we keep our focus on the "who" question, and that which is absurd and incomprehensible becomes not only reasonable, but alive and at work in the reality of our world here and now.

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[1] Marc A. Hight and Joshua Bohannon, “The Son More Visible: Immaterialism and the Incarnation,” Modern Theology 26.1 (2010): 120.

[2] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “Lectures on Christology,” in Berlin: 1932-1933, DBWE 12, ed. Larry L. Rasmussen (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 299-360. 

What's the connection between the Sermon on the Mount and religionless Christianity?

This weekend I will be presenting a paper at the annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion in San Francisco to the Bonhoeffer: Theology and Social Analysis section.  I have time to present just the final section of an almost 50 page paper that traces the development of the Sermon on the Mount throughout the entirety of his writings.  My presentation will focus on how the Sermon on the Mount is a key to understanding Bonhoeffer's concept of religionless Christianity in a world come of age.  The full version of the paper will be archived in the Bonhoeffer Collection at Union Theological Seminary in New York.

I've included a paragraph from the paper below.

... The previous sections of the paper demonstrate that the Sermon on the Mount occupies a prominent place throughout much of Bonhoeffer’s theological thought.  It forms the foundation of his peace ethic, helps him describe the life of discipleship, and nuances his understanding of a Christian ethic.  Moreover, the Sermon continues to influence and shape Bonhoeffer’s emerging theological direction, especially as it is worked out in Letters and Papers from Prison.  To be sure, in Bonhoeffer’s later writings, the Sermon on the Mount itself is not nearly as dominant and pressing an issue as, say, the implication of religionless Christianity.  At this stage in Bonhoeffer’s thought, the application of the Sermon may not have remained of much concern to him.  At times, Bonhoeffer himself wonders at his own previous understanding and interpretation of the Sermon.  In a letter to Eberhard Bethge, for example, he admits that he cannot learn to have faith simply by living a saintly life, and “I suppose I wrote Discipleship at the end of that path.”[1]  Has Bonhoeffer, then, finally found it necessary to move beyond the Sermon in order to articulate his new theological direction?  On the contrary, the Sermon retains a vital position in his writings both leading up to and during his time in prison.[2]  It is the fact that Bonhoeffer’s theology is founded on the Sermon on the Mount that allows him to press for the emerging concept of religionless Christianity in a world come of age.

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[1] Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison, 486.

[2] Cf. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Conspiracy and Imprisonment: 1940-1945, vol. 16 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, English edition, ed. Mark S. Brocker (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006).

Almost Christian

As I continue to reflect on the urgent task of discipleship formation, I am taking some time to revisit the work of Kenda Creasy Dean, one of my professors from Princeton Seminary.  I appreciate her research, writing, and teaching because it focuses on youth ministry as a vital indicator of the wider church's faith practice.  She rightly understands the too-often mediocre faith of our youth not as a symptom of teenage apathy and indifference, but as the reflection of our own faith communities.  Basically, she says that a hip youth pastor is not the most important factor in the development of faith obedience in our youth; rather, the faith of the particular church community as a whole is a reflection of the adults' and parents' faith, and this often low-commitment faith is reflected in the low-commitment faith of the youth.  But the tragedy is not just that this faith is apathetic; what is happening instead is that a new form of spirituality is replacing traditional and orthodox Christianity in our youth ministries and churches.  The Christian Faith is rapidly disintegrating into Moralistic Therapeutic Deism.

In her book Almost Christian: What the Faith of Our Teenagers is Telling the American Church, Dean summarizes the five guiding beliefs of Moralistic Therapeutic Diesm: (Note that this entire book is based on the ground-breaking National Study of Youth and Religion)
1. A god exists who created and orders the world and watches over life on earth.
2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.
3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.
4. God is not involved in my life except when I need God to resolve a problem.
5. Good people go to heaven when they die. (See page 14).

Does any of this sound familiar?  More and more youth in more and more churches are defining their "Christian" faith in these terms.  And, with Dean, I believe that this trend must be stopped with a clear and deep theology and practice of discipleship.  At the center of this change will be the distinct affirmation of the mission of God.  To participate in God's ways means to love others as God loves; it means a turning away from self and a turning towards the world.  This is an easy thing to say and write, but it will take an immense paradigm shift in the culture of our churches. 

I am full of hope - because of the promise and power of God's Spirit to move among us.  My prayer is that as God's Spirit moves, we will learn to listen, and we will learn to believe and obey - not only understanding but also living in the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  When we take seriously the call of following-after Jesus Christ, the life and witness of our churches will shine the bright light of hope and redemption.  God will continue to pour out his Spirit, and "Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams" (Acts 2:17). 

Discipleship needs the raw reality of friendship

One of my dilemmas in thinking about a theology of discipleship is the very practical "what" question.  What does this actually look like in the life of a church, for a small group ministry, even within an academic institution like a seminary or college?  This often ultimately comes down to a question of curriculum - a group after all needs something to do when tackling issues of discipleship.  However, I am often quite dissatisfied with the standard "discipleship" curriculum that is in current use.  Now, I believe that such curriculum has its place, and I am sure that it has played a crucial role for people in establishing key components of the Christian life.  But most discipleship curriculum also runs the grave risk of perpetuating a very narrow and limited view of discipleship, often just schooling people in the basic spiritual disciplines of Bible reading, prayer, worship, and fellowship.  These disciplines certainly must never be neglected, but they can also never be simply the end of our "discipleship" training.  And my fear is that when we lead people through these types of discipleship workbooks, we perpetuate a tragically limited practice and theology of discipleship.

The argument of course is that people need to start somewhere, and so they need to start by building good spiritual habits.  Again, you won't hear me saying that there is anything wrong with personal spiritual disciplines - but when we talk about discipleship, we are talking about something much greater, something that encompasses the entirety of our lives.  We are, after all, talking about what it means to follow-after Jesus Christ.  And I certainly hope that a life of following Jesus Christ means more than reading my Bible everyday. 

But what do we teach people to do in their following Jesus?

Here we come to the heart of the issue - that is the wrong question.  Discipleship is not a task; it is how we live life.  It is a worldview.  It is a set of beliefs that so permeate our lives that every decision we make is a part of our discipleship.  After all, if discipleship is following-after Jesus Christ, how could our every move and every relationship be anything but another unique aspect of the life of discipleship?

I want, then, to propose that discipleship requires much more than a curriculum and workbook.  It needs relationships; and more, discipleship needs dear friendships.

This hit me the other night talking with - who else - some friends.  There we were, informally hanging out, but I would say quite formally talking about the real hardships, joys, and questions of life.  As friends, we could be honest and share hurts and struggles.  As friends, we could laugh and relax.  As friends, we offer prayers and encouragement.  And I want to say that as friends we were in that moment growing in the life of discipleship.  We were not only learning from each other, but experiencing quite tangibly what it means to live life following-after Jesus Christ.

I went home that evening with a renewed energy to read and meditate on scripture and pray - and I had this desire not because of a curriculum workbook, but because I had, through my friends, pressing issues to pray and think on.

So, what I want to say is that when we are teaching people about discipleship, we really need to teach them how to be a good friend.  As disciples, we are called to journey with each other and be with and for each other.  Bonhoeffer describes Jesus as the man-for-others, and so we as Christians are called to be ultimately for-others - for our friends, our neighbors, and ultimately for all the world.  This is the "loving more" theme that I wrote about last time.

I wonder if discipleship can be separated from friendship?  It's curious - Bonhoeffer participated in the conspiracy against Hitler in large part because his close family and friends were deeply involved in the plot.  So, Bonhoeffer's discipleship was intricately linked to his relationships/friendships.

I guess I am trying to get at the fact that discipleship is most potent when it rubs up against others in our life.  And life is not a series of habits.  Life is the journey of discipleship, best experienced in the raw reality of friendship.

The "what" question of teaching people about discipleship just got a lot more complicated and nuanced.  And more fulfilling.