ON THE SHELF
Three New Titles in Theology and the Arts
by Mark McInroy
Three New Titles in Theology and the Arts
by Mark McInroy
In every issue, book review editor Mark McInroy supplies notes on books recently released in theology and the arts. He is an associate professor of systematic theology at the University of St. Thomas, and has published academic examinations of Origen of Alexandria, Martin Luther, Karl Barth, Karl Rahner, and Hans Urs von Balthasar. He is the author of Balthasar on the Spiritual Senses: Perceiving Splendour (Oxford University Press, 2014), and was a 2015 recipient of the prestigious Manfred Lautenschlaeger Award for Theological Promise.
Jeremy Begbie, Redeeming Transcendence in the Arts: Bearing Witness to the Triune God (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2018).
Jeremy Begbie begins Redeeming Transcendence in the Arts: Bearing Witness to the Triune God with a challenge to treatments of transcendence in the theology-and-the-arts conversation to date. Begbie explains that, "in a proper eagerness to make common cause with those of little or no explicit faith, we have too frequently lost a sense of the disturbing particularities and disruptive power of the vistas presented in the Old and New Testaments" (3), and Begbie questions the assumption that emphasizing those particularities is disadvantageous for appealing to divine transcendence in the contemporary setting. In a move that bears strong affinities with the approach of George Lindbeck and other post-liberal theologians, Begbie suggests that the path forward does not consist of diluting distinctively Christian claims in the hope that they will become palatable to the non-Christian; instead, Begbie advocates careful attention to the "historically grounded particularities of biblical faith" (3), as he sees in them rich resources for discussions of divine transcendence in theology and the arts.
Begbie advances his argument through the volume’s four chapters, the first of which ("Stirrings of Transcendence?") demonstrates the prevalence of concern with divine transcendence among modern artists, art theorists, and philosophers, many of whom have no particular interest in Christian theology. Begbie’s singular range is on full display in this chapter, as he examines the "stirrings" of transcendence found in painting, music, film, and architecture as discussed by major figures such as William Dyrness, David Brown, Mark Johnston, Russell Re Manning, and George Steiner, among others. These treatments, disparate though they are, all see the arts as especially conducive to treating divine transcendence, yet according to Begbie they share assumptions that he will challenge in later chapters: first, that human limits should determine how divine transcendence will be imagined; second, that specifically Christian elements should be set aside in order best to understand divine transcendence; third, that human beings have an "innate and intact capacity" for responding to the transcendent God; and fourth, that "a unitarian deity, an undifferentiated God" should be posited, to which any subsequent Trinitarian musings might be added with no substantial change.
In Chapter 2, "Sublime Transcendence," Begbie deepens his portrayal of the problem through his treatment of the sublime, which serves as a powerful and prevalent tool for theorizing transcendence in the modern period. The difficulty with such an approach is that sublimity becomes increasingly "hollowed out" (52) during the course of modernity, and in the contemporary setting it joins forces with a highly problematic version of apophaticism to characterize God’s transcendence as sheer unknowability. As a result, one has great difficulty in avoiding agnosticism or atheism since that which lies in this absolutely unknown realm can be cast in any number of ways, from plenitude to void.
With an acute sense of the problems that can attend appeals to transcendence in our contemporary setting, Begbie turns in Chapter 3, "Disturbing Transcendence," to the biblically grounded way of imagining transcendence at which he hints in his introduction. Begbie reserves his reflections on the arts for the final chapter of the book, and as a result the reader observes in this chapter Begbie’s considerable skill and inventiveness purely as a theologian (i.e., without, for a moment, reference to the arts). The central insight around which the chapter is organized consists of the notion that the Triune God, a God in which the Father generates the Son in the Spirit, is a God of uncontainable love, possessed of a "generative outgoingness" that leads to the creation of the world, not as necessary, but certainly fitting as an expression of God as love (97). For Begbie, this notion of God unavoidably inflects an understanding of divine transcendence with unsurpassable love.
In Chapter 4, "Redeeming Transcendence," Begbie returns to the arts with his newly developed notion of divine transcendence, and he reframes the question that has animated discussion of transcendence in the arts such that it is not simply, "How might the arts bear their own kind of witness to divine transcendence?" but more precisely, "How might the arts be caught up in the self-witness of God to God’s own transcendence?" (129). When transcendence is recast such that it does not stand for detachment from the world, but instead dynamic presence to the world from a vantage point of unfathomable love, the arts can, as Begbie puts it, "testify to the transcendence (otherness) of God most potently when they are fully creaturely, when, through the agency of the Holy Spirit, they point to, share in, and contribute to the created world becoming more fully itself" (131). Most promising here are Begbie’s meditations on music, particularly his observation that music has an "edgeless" character; that is, a single note does not occupy simply a portion of our "aural environment," but instead permeates the whole, thus demonstrating "uncontainability" of a certain sort. Further, when additional notes are introduced, they do not compete with the initial note, but instead often complement and enrich it, as in a major chord. Begbie remarks, "What is a major triad if not a resonance of life-in-three—the three reciprocally interpenetrating without exclusion or merger?" (177). Music, then, gives a this-worldly expression to the uncontainability that characterizes the Triune God and this God’s relation to the world; entities do not vie for priority in a zero-sum game of occupying more space than their counterparts, but instead elicit harmonies from each other through mutually interpenetrating relations.
The book makes a significant contribution to current discussions of theology and the arts; Begbie’s highly original treatment will appeal to those who have engaged this interdisciplinary field in the hope of finding robustly Christian resources with which to think about the role of the arts and theology in our contemporary setting.
Jeremy Begbie begins Redeeming Transcendence in the Arts: Bearing Witness to the Triune God with a challenge to treatments of transcendence in the theology-and-the-arts conversation to date. Begbie explains that, "in a proper eagerness to make common cause with those of little or no explicit faith, we have too frequently lost a sense of the disturbing particularities and disruptive power of the vistas presented in the Old and New Testaments" (3), and Begbie questions the assumption that emphasizing those particularities is disadvantageous for appealing to divine transcendence in the contemporary setting. In a move that bears strong affinities with the approach of George Lindbeck and other post-liberal theologians, Begbie suggests that the path forward does not consist of diluting distinctively Christian claims in the hope that they will become palatable to the non-Christian; instead, Begbie advocates careful attention to the "historically grounded particularities of biblical faith" (3), as he sees in them rich resources for discussions of divine transcendence in theology and the arts.
Begbie advances his argument through the volume’s four chapters, the first of which ("Stirrings of Transcendence?") demonstrates the prevalence of concern with divine transcendence among modern artists, art theorists, and philosophers, many of whom have no particular interest in Christian theology. Begbie’s singular range is on full display in this chapter, as he examines the "stirrings" of transcendence found in painting, music, film, and architecture as discussed by major figures such as William Dyrness, David Brown, Mark Johnston, Russell Re Manning, and George Steiner, among others. These treatments, disparate though they are, all see the arts as especially conducive to treating divine transcendence, yet according to Begbie they share assumptions that he will challenge in later chapters: first, that human limits should determine how divine transcendence will be imagined; second, that specifically Christian elements should be set aside in order best to understand divine transcendence; third, that human beings have an "innate and intact capacity" for responding to the transcendent God; and fourth, that "a unitarian deity, an undifferentiated God" should be posited, to which any subsequent Trinitarian musings might be added with no substantial change.
In Chapter 2, "Sublime Transcendence," Begbie deepens his portrayal of the problem through his treatment of the sublime, which serves as a powerful and prevalent tool for theorizing transcendence in the modern period. The difficulty with such an approach is that sublimity becomes increasingly "hollowed out" (52) during the course of modernity, and in the contemporary setting it joins forces with a highly problematic version of apophaticism to characterize God’s transcendence as sheer unknowability. As a result, one has great difficulty in avoiding agnosticism or atheism since that which lies in this absolutely unknown realm can be cast in any number of ways, from plenitude to void.
With an acute sense of the problems that can attend appeals to transcendence in our contemporary setting, Begbie turns in Chapter 3, "Disturbing Transcendence," to the biblically grounded way of imagining transcendence at which he hints in his introduction. Begbie reserves his reflections on the arts for the final chapter of the book, and as a result the reader observes in this chapter Begbie’s considerable skill and inventiveness purely as a theologian (i.e., without, for a moment, reference to the arts). The central insight around which the chapter is organized consists of the notion that the Triune God, a God in which the Father generates the Son in the Spirit, is a God of uncontainable love, possessed of a "generative outgoingness" that leads to the creation of the world, not as necessary, but certainly fitting as an expression of God as love (97). For Begbie, this notion of God unavoidably inflects an understanding of divine transcendence with unsurpassable love.
In Chapter 4, "Redeeming Transcendence," Begbie returns to the arts with his newly developed notion of divine transcendence, and he reframes the question that has animated discussion of transcendence in the arts such that it is not simply, "How might the arts bear their own kind of witness to divine transcendence?" but more precisely, "How might the arts be caught up in the self-witness of God to God’s own transcendence?" (129). When transcendence is recast such that it does not stand for detachment from the world, but instead dynamic presence to the world from a vantage point of unfathomable love, the arts can, as Begbie puts it, "testify to the transcendence (otherness) of God most potently when they are fully creaturely, when, through the agency of the Holy Spirit, they point to, share in, and contribute to the created world becoming more fully itself" (131). Most promising here are Begbie’s meditations on music, particularly his observation that music has an "edgeless" character; that is, a single note does not occupy simply a portion of our "aural environment," but instead permeates the whole, thus demonstrating "uncontainability" of a certain sort. Further, when additional notes are introduced, they do not compete with the initial note, but instead often complement and enrich it, as in a major chord. Begbie remarks, "What is a major triad if not a resonance of life-in-three—the three reciprocally interpenetrating without exclusion or merger?" (177). Music, then, gives a this-worldly expression to the uncontainability that characterizes the Triune God and this God’s relation to the world; entities do not vie for priority in a zero-sum game of occupying more space than their counterparts, but instead elicit harmonies from each other through mutually interpenetrating relations.
The book makes a significant contribution to current discussions of theology and the arts; Begbie’s highly original treatment will appeal to those who have engaged this interdisciplinary field in the hope of finding robustly Christian resources with which to think about the role of the arts and theology in our contemporary setting.
Gerald C. Liu, Music and the Generosity of God (Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave MacMillan, 2017).
Gerald C. Liu organizes Music and the Generosity of God around the claim that "all sounds instantiate the gen-erosity of God" (1), and he radically expands the category of "music" to include a remarkably wide array of sonic phenomena in the interest of demonstrating the highly variegated and incomprehensibly generous way in which God relates to creation.
After an introductory first chapter, Liu treats in Chapter 2, "A Silent Prayer," the work of John Cage, especially his infamous 4’33". Although many have dismissed Cage’s piece as a "silent stunt," Liu insists on the artistic integrity of the performance, in part by claiming, "what listeners failed to notice were the missing notes provided by nature" (23). These elements transformed Maverick Concert Hall into "a gateway for music without boundary or distinction from life" (23). Liu gestures toward the theological significance of his reading as follows: "Soundscapes undetermined by human intention and authorship exemplify a radical freedom active in the world" (32).
Chapter 3, "Theological Stocktaking with Pierre Boulez," similarly seeks to rehabilitate Boulez in response to contemporary critics, many of whom find his "total serialism" irresponsible, monotonous, unintelligible, and worse. In contrast to these assessments, Liu maintains that Boulez’s music leads to a number of theologically fruitful avenues, not least of which involves its example of "reform driven by an unrelenting sense of freedom and belief in a new future" (46).
Chapter 4, "The Epistle of 4’33"" examines Cage’s famous piece in detail with an eye toward its theological significance. Among the promising reflections in this chapter is Cage’s mention in a letter to Helen Wolff that 4’33" "is not actually silent," and that "recognizing the sonic density of 4’33" depends upon ‘our own emptiness, our own receptivity; we receive to the extent we are empty to do so’" (54). Liu connects these and other insights to the Asian philosophy and religion in which Cage took an interest. Additionally significant for Cage was Robert Rauschenberg’s work, especially his White Paintings, which Cage described as "never empty," and as a "poetry of infinite possibilities" (65). Liu further holds that Cage offers "proto-phenomenological language" in his descriptions of Rauschenberg’s art, a claim that serves as the foundation for Liu’s turn to the thought of Jean-Luc Marion.
Chapter 5, "The Ubiquity of Music and Sacramental Life," moves to phenomenology, in particular that of Jean-Luc Marion, out of the conviction that Marion’s thought "provides more detailed language for thinking about how, within the realm of finite possibility, on blank canvases, or through a quiet composition, divine encounter becomes perceptible" (70). Specifically, Liu holds that Marion’s famous account of the saturated phenomenon augments reflection on 4’33" in that Marion helps one to understand "the surplus of music overwhelming the rational structures we place upon music in the world" (86). To Liu, this overwhelming quality of music means that even those aspects of existence that seem distant from God are in fact "infiltrated" by music, demonstrating the unstoppable generosity of which God is possessed.
Chapter 6, "The Spook of Modern Technology and the Generosity of Music," uses Cage and Pierre Schaeffer to challenge Theodor Adorno’s claim that modern technology—radio, in particular—degrades the authenticity of music such that it becomes "a phantom-like presence—a ‘spook’" (94). Using Heidegger as a frame of reference, Liu insists, "The postwar ingenuity of Schaeffer and Cage . . . suggests how so much more . . . signals itself in the interplay between music and technology" (114). Whereas technology might seem to threaten music as a whole, Liu holds that Cage and Schaeffer manage to oppose this broadly deleterious influence. Tellingly, in fact, Liu points out that Adorno himself acknowledges that Cage’s music resists the technological age (117).
Chapter 7 concludes the volume, and here Liu gestures toward further outworkings of his central claim that all sounds instantiate the generosity of God. One such implication involves following through on the widened definition of music with which Liu begins his study. If music involves not simply humanly produced sounds, but instead the entire aural environment that is continually performed by both the human and natural worlds, then Liu holds that the very definition of culture itself must be reconsidered and expanded. Additionally, the emphasis on listening that emerges from Liu’s study promises fruitful engagement with recent works by Jean-Luc Nancy and Carol Harrison, titled Listening and The Art of Listening in the Early Church, respectively. Ultimately, Liu holds that his study invites the reader to consider and take seriously the notion that "invisibly, but perceptibly, sounds saturate everywhere as a gift of a holy elsewhere" (131).
Gerald C. Liu organizes Music and the Generosity of God around the claim that "all sounds instantiate the gen-erosity of God" (1), and he radically expands the category of "music" to include a remarkably wide array of sonic phenomena in the interest of demonstrating the highly variegated and incomprehensibly generous way in which God relates to creation.
After an introductory first chapter, Liu treats in Chapter 2, "A Silent Prayer," the work of John Cage, especially his infamous 4’33". Although many have dismissed Cage’s piece as a "silent stunt," Liu insists on the artistic integrity of the performance, in part by claiming, "what listeners failed to notice were the missing notes provided by nature" (23). These elements transformed Maverick Concert Hall into "a gateway for music without boundary or distinction from life" (23). Liu gestures toward the theological significance of his reading as follows: "Soundscapes undetermined by human intention and authorship exemplify a radical freedom active in the world" (32).
Chapter 3, "Theological Stocktaking with Pierre Boulez," similarly seeks to rehabilitate Boulez in response to contemporary critics, many of whom find his "total serialism" irresponsible, monotonous, unintelligible, and worse. In contrast to these assessments, Liu maintains that Boulez’s music leads to a number of theologically fruitful avenues, not least of which involves its example of "reform driven by an unrelenting sense of freedom and belief in a new future" (46).
Chapter 4, "The Epistle of 4’33"" examines Cage’s famous piece in detail with an eye toward its theological significance. Among the promising reflections in this chapter is Cage’s mention in a letter to Helen Wolff that 4’33" "is not actually silent," and that "recognizing the sonic density of 4’33" depends upon ‘our own emptiness, our own receptivity; we receive to the extent we are empty to do so’" (54). Liu connects these and other insights to the Asian philosophy and religion in which Cage took an interest. Additionally significant for Cage was Robert Rauschenberg’s work, especially his White Paintings, which Cage described as "never empty," and as a "poetry of infinite possibilities" (65). Liu further holds that Cage offers "proto-phenomenological language" in his descriptions of Rauschenberg’s art, a claim that serves as the foundation for Liu’s turn to the thought of Jean-Luc Marion.
Chapter 5, "The Ubiquity of Music and Sacramental Life," moves to phenomenology, in particular that of Jean-Luc Marion, out of the conviction that Marion’s thought "provides more detailed language for thinking about how, within the realm of finite possibility, on blank canvases, or through a quiet composition, divine encounter becomes perceptible" (70). Specifically, Liu holds that Marion’s famous account of the saturated phenomenon augments reflection on 4’33" in that Marion helps one to understand "the surplus of music overwhelming the rational structures we place upon music in the world" (86). To Liu, this overwhelming quality of music means that even those aspects of existence that seem distant from God are in fact "infiltrated" by music, demonstrating the unstoppable generosity of which God is possessed.
Chapter 6, "The Spook of Modern Technology and the Generosity of Music," uses Cage and Pierre Schaeffer to challenge Theodor Adorno’s claim that modern technology—radio, in particular—degrades the authenticity of music such that it becomes "a phantom-like presence—a ‘spook’" (94). Using Heidegger as a frame of reference, Liu insists, "The postwar ingenuity of Schaeffer and Cage . . . suggests how so much more . . . signals itself in the interplay between music and technology" (114). Whereas technology might seem to threaten music as a whole, Liu holds that Cage and Schaeffer manage to oppose this broadly deleterious influence. Tellingly, in fact, Liu points out that Adorno himself acknowledges that Cage’s music resists the technological age (117).
Chapter 7 concludes the volume, and here Liu gestures toward further outworkings of his central claim that all sounds instantiate the generosity of God. One such implication involves following through on the widened definition of music with which Liu begins his study. If music involves not simply humanly produced sounds, but instead the entire aural environment that is continually performed by both the human and natural worlds, then Liu holds that the very definition of culture itself must be reconsidered and expanded. Additionally, the emphasis on listening that emerges from Liu’s study promises fruitful engagement with recent works by Jean-Luc Nancy and Carol Harrison, titled Listening and The Art of Listening in the Early Church, respectively. Ultimately, Liu holds that his study invites the reader to consider and take seriously the notion that "invisibly, but perceptibly, sounds saturate everywhere as a gift of a holy elsewhere" (131).
Cia Sautter, The Performance of Religion: Seeing the Sacred in the Theatre (Abingdon, Oxon; New York: Routledge, 2017)
In The Performance of Religion: Seeing the Sacred in the Theatre, Cia Sautter holds that the academic examination of the performing arts (i.e., "performance studies") offers an invaluable—though often neglected—lens through which to examine religion. After an introductory first chapter, Chapter 2, "Performing religion," frames Sautter’s inquiry by challenging the widespread assumption that religion and theatre are opposed to one another, and in particular that religion squelches artistic expression. To the contrary, Sautter insists that religion and theatre have a long, interrelated history, and she goes so far as to claim that "theatre can be an aid to discerning how to perform one’s sacred reality" (52).
Chapter 3, "Faustus and being good: Ethical choices," focuses on Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, especially as performed at London’s Globe Theatre, and here Sautter suggests that the manner in which the performance displays ethical decisions on the stage stands to open up the viewer to discuss issues that are otherwise under tight constraints in everyday life.
Chapter 4, "All’s well: Choice, responsibility, and dialogue," examines the portrayal of Helena in Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well. Sautter is interested in this chapter to look closely at the manner in which intelligent women are treated in theatre. Using Martin Buber’s dialogical personalism (with some reservations), Sautter holds that "performance of stories aids us in learning to treat those of differing views, and even differing morals, as human beings worthy of dignity, respect, and compassion" (123).
Chapter 5, "Ending in dance: Ethics, religion, and staged movement," begins with the observation that many of Shakespeare’s plays end in dance, and Sautter pays particular attention to the ways in which dance functions in Macbeth. Sautter expresses support for Richard Schechner’s notion that "there is always a flow between ritual and theatre" (131), and she goes on to characterize ritual "as an embodied form of communication of values" (131). The chapter develops a number of intriguing connections between bodily movement and ethical formation. "If we want to create a space for plural voices of relationship, caring, and concern, then perhaps we should be more attentive to our movements" (159).
Chapter 6 concludes the volume, and here Sautter notes the ways in which religious values are being enacted in our world today, from young Muslims entering synagogues in Europe to express solidarity with Jews after the murder of a Jewish security guard to religious leaders organizing protests against the killing of African-American men by police. Although she recognizes that theatre is often seen as a "fantasy realm" that facilitates escape from the world, Sautter nevertheless holds that the embodied stories told in theatre can transform viewers and lead to shifts in consciousness that stand to benefit our world.
In The Performance of Religion: Seeing the Sacred in the Theatre, Cia Sautter holds that the academic examination of the performing arts (i.e., "performance studies") offers an invaluable—though often neglected—lens through which to examine religion. After an introductory first chapter, Chapter 2, "Performing religion," frames Sautter’s inquiry by challenging the widespread assumption that religion and theatre are opposed to one another, and in particular that religion squelches artistic expression. To the contrary, Sautter insists that religion and theatre have a long, interrelated history, and she goes so far as to claim that "theatre can be an aid to discerning how to perform one’s sacred reality" (52).
Chapter 3, "Faustus and being good: Ethical choices," focuses on Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, especially as performed at London’s Globe Theatre, and here Sautter suggests that the manner in which the performance displays ethical decisions on the stage stands to open up the viewer to discuss issues that are otherwise under tight constraints in everyday life.
Chapter 4, "All’s well: Choice, responsibility, and dialogue," examines the portrayal of Helena in Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well. Sautter is interested in this chapter to look closely at the manner in which intelligent women are treated in theatre. Using Martin Buber’s dialogical personalism (with some reservations), Sautter holds that "performance of stories aids us in learning to treat those of differing views, and even differing morals, as human beings worthy of dignity, respect, and compassion" (123).
Chapter 5, "Ending in dance: Ethics, religion, and staged movement," begins with the observation that many of Shakespeare’s plays end in dance, and Sautter pays particular attention to the ways in which dance functions in Macbeth. Sautter expresses support for Richard Schechner’s notion that "there is always a flow between ritual and theatre" (131), and she goes on to characterize ritual "as an embodied form of communication of values" (131). The chapter develops a number of intriguing connections between bodily movement and ethical formation. "If we want to create a space for plural voices of relationship, caring, and concern, then perhaps we should be more attentive to our movements" (159).
Chapter 6 concludes the volume, and here Sautter notes the ways in which religious values are being enacted in our world today, from young Muslims entering synagogues in Europe to express solidarity with Jews after the murder of a Jewish security guard to religious leaders organizing protests against the killing of African-American men by police. Although she recognizes that theatre is often seen as a "fantasy realm" that facilitates escape from the world, Sautter nevertheless holds that the embodied stories told in theatre can transform viewers and lead to shifts in consciousness that stand to benefit our world.