A couple of weeks ago, I attended a lecture on the Humanities and Pentecostalism. Dale Coulter (professor from Regent) shared about 12th century scholasticism and the role that the ecstatic experience played in the study of the liberal arts. It definitely qualified me for a stamp on the nerd card.
I won't attempt to summarize his entire lecture, but he was attempting to show a compatibility with the study of the liberal arts and the Pentecostal experience. Sharing how many of the academics were seeking a supernatural encounter ultimately found by people like St. Francis and Catherine of Avila. Therefore, Scholasticism and Pentecostalism should be a match made in heaven right?
Then Cheryl Johns spoke up. She mentioned how for many centuries the academic world only let "certain people" into their little circle. St. Catherine would not have been allowed to attend one of the universities teaching the liberal arts. She said something to the effect of: the ecstatic experience of tongues was not given as the end goal of liberal arts or scholasticism, it was given as a prophetic critique of our systems of scholasticism. It was given to "confound the wise".
I've been thinking about the idea of this "divine gibberish" as a "critique" against human reason and intellectual ability. Much has been written on this in theological circles. But in my own thoughts: It is like punk music. It is ketchup on a steak, tennis shoes with a tuxedo, the #16 seed making it to the Final Four. It is the cry of a people overthrowing a corrupt government, a glaring defiance in the face of the status quo and all that we think we know. It is the great oxymoron. It flies in the face of the intelligible. It shouldn't made sense, which is why it does.
Last Sunday in our church service, we had a demonstration of this "theological punk rock." During the time of prayer, someone began praying in tongues. Suddenly they were yelling in tongues. It became very loud and went on for several moments. I'm sure it was uncomfortable for some.
For me, it became beautiful.
Unable to pray that morning, or to even know where to start, the Spirit interceded on my behalf through another. It was the pronouncing of a prophetic critique against my situation. I was being defended. It wasn't through a well thought out, rehearsed prayer with clever phrasing and relevant points. It was deep calling to deep. It was raw and divine. It was the Spirit saying, I know what you're feeling, and I feel it too and we're not gonna take it (punk rock reference for those who get it). It was God stepping in front of the bullies in our lives and uttering them a stern rebuke.
I just let it wash over me. My prayer during this Lent has been "Lord be my advocate, defend me and fight for me". At times, it has been hard to hear my advocate and see my defender.
"...the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words...." Romans 8:26
1 comentarios:
Good stuff. Thank you.
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