Tony Jones probes the question along with Jonathan L. Walton.
The problem, it seems to me, has to do with social boundaries of legitimation. On the one hand, the church has its own explicit and implicit categories to legitimate what "good" theology is. This is a theology that lends itself to some correlation in good strength to a given religious organizations creeds and doctrines that define that group. In other words, I know of know theologian who would be understood as a legitimate theological voice in a Catholic Parish who does not conform to the basic teachings of the Nicene Creed.
On the other hand, theologians are by nature part of an academic enterprise. Therefore, to be a legitimate academic, while not an absolute, one should have a terminal degree in the field. Moreover, membership in an academic society is a plus. What is a non-negotiable in order to be enjoined to "the company of scholars" as it were, is knowledge production that passes the scrutiny of ones academic community of scholars through the peer review process. This is why journals and refereed conference presentations are what establish the identity of someone as a member of the community of scholars.
The theologian is thus situated between two communities that demand certain attributes of a person in order to legitimate their identification of this or that community. What I want to make clear is that this sense of legitimation for either community is one of scale based on a correlation. To be sure there are theologians who find their home on the margins of both of these communities, but through other means maintain significant legitimacy in both (see Diogenes Allens book Three Outsiders (2006) for three significant examples in Blaise Pascal, Soren Kierkegaard, and Wimone Weil). But as the correlation of ones work and participation in a community weakens, so does the claim for that theologian to be a legitimate scholar in either.
This is why Waltons quote makes a lot of sense:
Prophets work from the margins. And their voice, when at its best, is rejected by the mainstream.
What we do learn from someone like Kierkegaard is that what is now on the margins is likely to become part of a transformed mainstream at some point in the future. This is likely to have been Jones point. Sectarian movements become mainstream if they persist – an argument made by H.R. Niebuhr as far back as 1929 which has only been supported by example over example since. It is no different with those theologians on the margins. If their ideas persist over time, their impact will resonate long after the social situations that prompted their often strong critiques fade away. Paradoxically, ideas that once had no legitimacy in either church or academia will instruct the academics and pastors of the future. And the cycle of transformation from the margins, to normalization in the center will continue.
Lest you now say, "Oooohh thats Hegel!", there is one other piece to the equation. Transformations from the outside – from the prophetic voice – are not necessary outcomes from a given circumstance; these are intentionally driven claims with the purpose of transforming something that is not working from a given point of view. The question is if there are those with equal legitimation in both the ecclesial structures of Christianity and in the halls of academic rigor, who are also making radical claims to change things in both. In other words, where are the Soren Kierkegaards, the Catherine of Sienas, the Simone Weils, and the Niebuhrs of the future on the Northern Hemisphere of the world? Or, and heres a thought, are they all south of the equator in positions where the North feels no need to lend an ear of legitimacy?
I close with an apropos quote from Umberto Eco in his book Travels in Hyperreality (1983). This is his response to an American inquiry on how he reconciles his academic work with his work writing in populist formats like newspapers:
My answer was that this habit is common to all European intellectuals, in Germany, France, Spain, and, naturally, Italy: all countries where a scholar or scientist often feels required to speak out in the papers, to comment, if only from the point of view of his own interests and special field, on events that concern all citizens. And I added, somewhat maliciously, that if there was any problem with this it was not my problem as a European intellectual; it was more a problem of American intellectuals, who live in a country where the division of labor between university professors and militant intellectuals is much more strict that in other countries.
It is true that many American professors write for cultural reviews or for the book page of the daily papers. But many Italian scholars and literary critics also write columns where they take a stand on political questions, and they do this not only as a natural part of their work, but also as a duty (pp. ix-x; my emphasis).
In academia, blogging, newspaper articles, etc. do not gain you credit or legitimacy in America. So who among those in both circles feel that public communication of their ideas is a duty, not just something for fun, or an added stream of personal revenue? For Kierkegaard, critique was more than a duty, it was a vocation he received from the calling of God. So where is the next Kierkegaard? That might be the best way to frame the question.
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