SYMPHONIA IN THE SECULAR: AN ECCLESIOLOGY FOR THE NARTHEX By David J. Dunn Dissertation Submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Vanderbilt University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in Religion August, 2011 Nashville, Tennessee Approved: M. Douglas Meeks J. Patout Burns Paul DeHart John Thatamanil Paul Valliere, Butler University Copyright © 2011 by David J. Dunn All Rights Reserved For Stephanie ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I began asking the questions that the following essay addresses nearly ten years ago, as a youth pastor, finding my Hauerwasian retorts about the “politics of the gospel” and Milbankian talk about the “triumph of the church” inadequate responses to my fellow congregants’ seeming inability to draw lines within themselves between their faith and their increasingly nationalist environs. Which is to say: it has been a long time since I started thinking about the boundaries between church and culture. Fallen creature that I am, I will surely forget some of the countless people who helped me along the way. Therefore I begin, as all good theology must, by begging forgiveness. I wish to acknowledge the financial support Vanderbilt University has given me over the years, both for the scholarship and stipend that helped make my studies possible, several travel grants, and an award I received at the end of my comprehensive exams. I also wish to thank my committee: Doug Meeks, Paul DeHart, Patout Burns, Paul Valliere, and John Thatamanil. Though each is an expert in his field, he is also a good teacher. Dull student that I sometimes am, this essay is better because of their patient, yet demanding pedagogy. The errors are my own. I am beyond grateful to Travis Ables and Joshua Davis, who read and provided helpful comment on parts of this essay. Their encouragement helped keep me writing. I wish to thank our departmental colloquies and the Graduate Theological Society for comments I received on early works that later were converted into parts of this essay. Michael Gibson and I had many good conversations that shaped the way I thought about history, Bulgakov, and Augustine. Sean iv Hayden’s knowledge of Hegel and Schelling helped inform my understanding of Bulgakov’s sources. I am also grateful for other partners in dialogue such as Craig Keen, Tony Baker, Doug Harrison, Brandon Gallaher, Maria Mayo, Nathan Kerr, David Belcher, Jodi Belcher, Kira Dault, Timothy Eberhart, Brad Pepper, Lee Jefferson, and Steven Sorrell. Finally, there are not enough words to express my appreciation for David Dault, who has been an unceasing wellspring of theological inspiration, encouragement, and friendship, quite literally from the very beginning of this process. I want to thank the faculty and staff of the Graduate Department of Religion. In particular, Jimmy Byrd and Marie McEntire have patiently explained the “ins and outs” of essential graduate school policies and procedures when I was too distracted or forgetful to remember the first time. I also want to thank Elizabeth Schoenfeld, Tamra Stambaugh, Jay Watson, Jennifer Pitts, and all the faculty and staff of Programs for Talented Youth for the opportunity to turn dissertation research into valuable experience teaching their incredible students. I am grateful for the intercessions of St. Augustine, Fr. Stephen Rogers, and all my sisters and brothers at St. Ignatius Antiochian Orthodox Church. Karissa Sorrell is an author and poet who helped edit this essay. Whatever eloquence the reader discerns in the following pages likely owes to her careful eye. Researching projects such as this produces knowledgeable scholars, but not always pleasant human beings, so I need to acknowledge some of the innumerable people who helped keep me sane throughout this process. Writing this dissertation has made me distracted, forgetful, self-absorbed, too busy to help, and too engrossed in my own thoughts to listen. Perhaps the v mark of a true friend is her willingness to put up with such behavior in the knowledge that, “This too shall pass.” The Smiths, Algoods, Sorrells, Beazleys, and Clymers (among many others) have been such friends to me. I appreciate the moral support of my sister, Joan of Dark, her husband, Dill Hero, and my stepfather, Greg Dunn. I also want to thank Jonathan Gish, Shawn Hammonds, his team, and Ray Casias, for helping me stay grounded throughout this process. Where they fail, I know I can count on my sons. When I spend too much time in my head, Connor will clap for me as I walk by him. If that fails to get my attention, George is always willing to hit me in the head with a remarkably painful foam sword. I thank my sons for refusing to let me forget what is most important in life. They have not yet invented words to express the debt of gratitude I owe to the women in my life. Everything good in me I owe to them. Three days after I finished the second chapter, my “surprise child” decided to be born a month early, and my mother, Linda Dunn, dropped everything and drove down to help us. That is but one example of the selfless caritas that has kept our family afloat in so many ways over the years. Kyla, my oldest daughter, who knows of no other job for daddy than “student,” has probably suffered more than most. I could not have written this if she had not been willing to spend many a snow day playing quietly in her room instead of sledding with her dad. She loves me anyways, which teaches me a lot about the love of Christ. I find myself groping for the right words to express my thanks to Stephanie, who is more responsible for this essay than anyone. Since I have had the privilege of loving her for over half my life, I would expect such words to flow quite freely. My present stupefaction reminds me of what the saints have said about God – that increasing love decreases words. The same is true of vi you, Stephanie. You deserve more than a cliched sentence or two about your “ceaseless support.” You deserve a halo or perhaps lines of verse from Gregory Nazianzen. I can give you neither. So my gratitude will have to be apophatic. The following words, such as they are, I dedicate to you. For the rest, in the face of such overwhelming grace that I am blessed to see in you every day, I can only stand in humble and silent awe. vii TABLE OF CONTENTS Page DEDICATION iii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS iv Chapter I. INTRODUCTION: AN ECCLESIOLOGY FOR THE NARTHEX? 1 Ecclesial Presuppositions 3 The Development of Ecclesial Symphonia 12 PART I CHURCH V. SECULAR: ANALYZING AN ECCLESIOLOGICAL IMPASSE II. “POSTLIBERAL” ECCLESIOLOGY AND CHRISTIAN COGNITIVE DISSONANCE 22 Intratextualism and the Interpretive Community 25 Intratextualism Applied: Sectarian and Triumphalist Postliberal Ecclesiology 34 Postliberal Ecclesiology and Christian Cognitive Dissonance 51 Conclusion 55 III. THE KINGDOM OF GOD AND THE CHURCH: REINFORCING CHRISTIAN COGNITIVE DISSONANCE 58 Refusing the “Invisible” Church 61 The Necessity of the “Invisible” Church 78 The “Invisible” Church and Postliberal Ecclesiological Extremes 92 Conclusion 100 PART II ECCLESIAL SYMPHONIA:A CONSTRUCTIVE ALTERNATIVE IV. SYMPHONIA: THE ECCLESIOLOGICAL POTENTIAL OF THE BYZANTINE POLITICAL IDEAL 106 viii Byzantine Symphonia 109 Triangulating Church, World, and Kingdom 124 Symphonia as Theory of Culture: The Russian Sophiologists 128 Conclusion 140 V. HISTORY AS BASILEIA FOR AN ENGAGED CHRISTIANITY 143 The Foundation of Symphonia in the Secular 146 God, Encompassing the World for the Kingdom 153 What Sophiology Means for the Church 162 Conclusion 173 VI. ECCLESIAL SYMPHONIA: FINDING IDENTITY IN THE NARTHEX 176 Jesus Christ: The Wisdom of God 179 Jesus Christ: The Presence of the Kingdom 187 Conclusion: Symphonia in the Narthex 204 BIBLIOGRAPHY 213 ix CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION: AN ECCLESIOLOGY FOR THE NARTHEX? And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God. Romans 12:2 The narthex is a liminal space, if, indeed, it is a space at all. It is neither the church nor the world, but both places at once. It is where we “leave the world behind” as we walk into church, and where we pick it up again on our way out.1 Of course, we never really leave the world behind. Christians do not stop being Americans or consumers or political party members or employees when they walk into church. In and of itself this fact would pose no problem for discipleship were it not for some sense that we are supposed to be “different,” at least if we take Paul seriously. Often, however, the nature of modern American society (my context) renders obedience to the biblical command to be not-conformed an act of tragic irony. Once upon a time, the church was a minority religion, a persecuted sect standing against the devil’s proxy (Rome) and its idols. Back then, it was possible to be not-conformed because one could lean on other members of a 1 I am going to make what some might consider a rather bold move in academic theological parlance and sometimes refer to the church in first person. By opting for this designation I do not intend to say something about what should be the religious affiliation of my readers. It is, rather, that I cannot help but refer to the church in this way. As David Tracy says, the theologian’s vocation is normed by the internal coordination of three publics: society, the academy, and the church. Though I am in the academy, and probably should write like it, as an ecclesial theologian, I am ineluctably formed by the people in the pews next to me.