A discourse of embodied interactivity traverses “religion,” in the study of both social movements and cosmological constructions.  Theological narrative also comes enmeshed in its material ecologies—of creation, incarnation, ritual,  resurrection.  How then do theological and religious studies intersect new scientific stories of  relationality, as of quantum entanglement, emergence, complexity, and neuroscience?  Might “new materialist” and affect theories help to instigate transdisciplinary alliances of  “intra-active becoming”(Karen Barad), resistant to both anthropocentric theologies  and reductive modernisms? In other words, might fresh entanglements of science and religion, extending across several fields, intensify attention to the fragile bodies of our creaturely interdependence?

It is the hope of the 2014 Transdisciplinary Theological Colloquium at Drew that such a conversation might elude the standard stand-offs of “religion and science,” or of spirituality and materialism, discourse and bodies, theory and politics, and even religious studies and constructive theology. In the interest of an ethics of embodied responsibility, might the entanglement of many fields work to energize a paradigm of planetary nonseparability?

Presenters

• Karen Barad, University of California, Santa Cruz
• Jane Bennett, Johns Hopkins University
• Loriliai Biernacki, University of Colorado, Boulder
• Philip Clayton, Claremont School of Theology
• William Connolly, Johns Hopkins University
• W. Anne Joh, Garret-Evangelical Theological Seminary
• Catherine Keller, Drew University
• Spyridon Koutroufinis, University of California, Berkeley
• Elias Ortega-Aponte, Drew University
• Mayra Rivera, Harvard Divinity School
• Mary Jane Rubenstein, Wesleyan University
• Manuel A. Vásquez, University of Florida
• Theodore Walker, Jr., Southern Methodist University
• Carol Wayne White, Bucknell University

Each year, the Tipple-Vosburgh Lectures feature distinguished scholars and theologians who energize the shared community of the Drew Theological School and the Graduate Division of Religion (GDR). This year’s lecture series, entitled “The Global Bible: Why People and Place Matter,” highlighted the tensive connection between two phenomenon in our present historical moment: global/universal and local/particular. In addition to scholarship, the artwork of He Qi demonstrated how we image—and imagine—the Bible’s presence in the world.

He Qi’s artwork selected for the cover page of the brochure, Finding Moses, is telling—and compelling. The Bible, like the baby Moses in the basket, has come to many different countries of the non-Western world as a foreign presence. In Asian countries such as China and Korea, those with power at their indigenous ideological center tried to burn, confiscate, and eradicate the book. But, some people drew it out (to use the word, “Moses,” etymologically)—whether from the waters of persecution or the pockets of missionaries—and started reading it. What would this foreign presence—namely, the book/Moses—do to them? Would it save them? Or, would it destroy them? They did not have the answer. The global Bible sat ambiguously on the riverbank of the non-biblical world in the history of colonization, Westernization and, more recently, globalization.

However, the image suggests that it is not only the text/Moses that is foreign to non-Western readers/Egyptian women. Having come apart from the bosom of its own mother-interpreters, the text/Moses is now surrounded by the eyes of strangers. In his plenary presentation, Dr. Kenneth Ngwa made us rethink the ethnic and cultural identity of Moses. The identity of the Bible as Western Scripture is equally complicated and is in need of careful interrogation. When it comes to engaging the global Bible, do people and place of its arrival matter? The scholars who were invited for the lectures and workshops would answer tentatively, “Yes, but not without challenges.” The global Bible is a cultural artifact that has met challenges from inside and outside its disciplinary boundaries.

Dr. Tat-Siong Benny Liew noted in the third plenary lecture: “[As] racial/ethnic minorities in the US began to emerge in the world of biblical scholarship,” they also began to recognize “various identity differences within and among each racial/ethnic minority group,” and consequently, “began to read and work across different racial/ethnic minority groups to form minority alliances.” In the first plenary lecture, Dr. Fernando Segovia also asserted that our understanding of “diversity” must be challenged through new interactions.

On the other hand, as a cultural artifact in the present age, the global (-ized) Bible begs us to ask ourselves about the role of biblical scholarship with regard to contemporary economic issues of globalization and neo-liberalism. As biblical scholars, what is our role in a landscape where fusion and fissure of cultures and identities constantly shift our practices of reading? This year’s Tipple-Vosburgh Lectures series has left us with such difficult questions, ongoing reflections, and tensions.—Dong Sung Kim, PhD student in Hebrew Bible

Drew’s Transdisciplinary Theological Colloquium began in 2001. The formula was simple but effective: settle on a topic that pushes the envelope of contemporary theological discourse; invite a dozen or so scholars associated with that topic to Drew; seat them around a table with Drew faculty who pursue related research; and discuss pre-circulated papers in a public forum with opportunities for audience participation. Other features of TTC that quickly became standard were the one-day graduate student colloquium; supplementation of the scholarly colloquium with public lectures, when the colloquium topic warranted it; and publication of the colloquium proceedings most years, mainly in a special series created by Fordham University Press.

The topic of TTC XI, which ran from September 29 through October 2, was “Divinanimality: Creaturely Theology.” The neologism of the main title was borrowed from Jacques Derrida, whose philosophical work on animality, together with that of other prominent theorists, notably Donna Haraway, has catalyzed the emergence of a transdisciplinary endeavor variously termed “animal studies,” “animality studies,” or “posthuman animality studies.” TTC XI was conceived as an attempt to triangulate these novel reflections on humanity and animality with reflections on divinity. The resources for such reflection seemed considerable, since all Christian scripture and most Christian theology predates the epochal Cartesian realignment of human-animal relations in terms absolutely oppositional and hierarchical, as do most Jewish and Muslim traditions.  Prior to the Cartesian revolution in philosophy, there were no “animals” in the modern sense, and hence no “humans” either. To begin to think the human/animal distinction differently, however, is also to begin to think the divine/human/animal distinctions differently, and engage in a “creaturely” theology with profound implications for ecotheology and animal activism.

The “public” portion of TTC XI began with a memorable chapel service, with Heather Murray Elkins of the GDR as celebrant and preacher and Norman Lowrey of the CLA contributing a “singing animal masks” performance and film. Public lectures followed from three of the distinguished visiting scholars, Kate Rigby (Monash University, Australia), Jay McDaniel (Hendrix College), and Laura Hobgood-Oster (Southwestern University). The latter also led a workshop, as did Fletcher Harper of GreenFaith. Meanwhile, the graduate student colloquium had begun. For the first time, the student colloquium preceded rather than followed the main scholarly colloquium. Ten GDR students read papers—An Yountae, Christy Cobb, Jake Erickson, Amy Beth Jones, Beatrice Marovich, Peter Mena, Erika Murphy, Stephanie Powell, Matt Riley, and Terra Rowe—together with two PhD students from other schools, Brianne Donaldson (Claremont School of Theology) and Eric Daryl Meyer (Fordham University).

The main scholarly colloquium began the next day, in an atmosphere already crackling with intellectual energy thanks to the exceptional quality of the student papers. The cohort of visiting scholars who participated in it included Denise Buell (Williams College), Laura Hobgood-Oster, Jennifer Koosed (Albright College), Glen Mazis (Penn State Harrisburg), Jay McDaniel, Kate Rigby, Mary-Jane Rubenstein (Wesleyan University), Robert Paul Seesengood (Albright College), Ken Stone (Chicago Theological Seminary), and Carol Wayne White (Bucknell University). They were joined by the GDR’s Virginia Burrus, Danna Nolan Fewell, Laurel Kearns, Catherine Keller, Stephen Moore, Elías Ortega-Aponte, and Althea Spencer-Miller, with GDR alumnae Antonia Gorman (Humane Society) and Mayra Rivera (Harvard Divinity School) and CLA faculty Edward Baring and Mark Boglioli.  This TTC also had a participating artist, Jan Harrison, whose luminous animal paintings provided a mesmerizing visual backdrop for the colloquium, and who also delivered a presentation on her art.

The organizing committee for TTC XI was made up of Catherine Keller, Stephen Moore, and Laurel Kearns, with Beatrice Marovich and Terra Rowe as the (superbly capable) student organizers responsible for all the practical details of the colloquium, in conjunction with a team of fellow student volunteers.  As in previous years, Geoff Pollick worked his web magic to conjure up a visually arresting website, on which further details of the colloquium may still be accessed.—Stephen D. Moore, Professor of New Testament 

We began at The Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine. Its entrance, called the “Portal of Paradise,” includes 32 sculptures of biblical matriarchs and patriarchs positioned amongst carved references to New York City landmarks, Kabbalah spirituality, and philosophy. These sculptures were crafted using local residents or homeless individuals from the area as models.

We then visited the campus of Columbia University, where we paused at Philosophy Hall. We noted that the building is named for the field of study it houses rather than after a wealthy donor to the university, perhaps implying recognition of the discipline’s autonomy. There we saw another icon, a large cast of Auguste Rodin’s “The Thinker.” Rodin’s sculpture depicts the figure of the poet Dante Alighieri, hand under chin and naked, contemplating a view through the gates of hell. Our second stop on campus was St. Paul’s Chapel, where we saw John La Farge’s stained glass depiction of the apostle Paul preaching to the Athenians on Mars Hill. The three paneled window shows Paul at the Parthenon proclaiming a faith in need of virtue, just as the chapel itself, so its designers hoped, would provide a moral voice in their neighborhood of Morningside Heights.

Our next stop, Riverside Church, boasts an impressive arch lined with numerous icons just below its nearly 400 ft. bell tower. Not to be outdone by St. John’s “portal,” Riverside’s entryway is bordered on each side by five rows of ascending stone sculptures. Biblical prophets and heavenly angels reside next to scientists such as Hippocrates, Galileo, Darwin, and Einstein; philosophers like Socrates, Plotinus, Spinoza, Hegel and Emerson; and religious leaders as various as Confucius, Buddha, Luther, and John Bunyan. This eclecticism, Dr. Rubinstein said, has both inspired and dismayed those who have taken the time to notice. This commitment to notice, our group remarked, is one of the hallmarks of scholarship.

As scholars, we make a commitment to notice the icons around us. Sometimes these icons are inscribed on marble and stone. Often we find them on the printed pages of the books assigned to us for class. And if we are truly attentive, as Simone Weil suggested, we will discover them on the faces of the human beings in our midst, the same human beings who inspired the icons in the first place.—Wade Mitchell, PhD student in Theological and Philosophical Studies

Jake Erickson (Theological and Philosophical Studies)

Our gathering this past summer is on my mind a lot, persistently, and queerly of course.  It keeps firing my imagination about what could be, about what kinds of scholarly communities could exist, and about what kinds of new scholarship could exist for and from queer folks.  Mostly, I’ve been thinking about what it means to write differently as a queer scholar of religion, as a queer theologian.  This is the question that keeps beckoning me to follow: What might queer writing and queer theopoetry look like?  And the possibilities expand…

Over the course of the week, Kent Brintnall’s mentorship, in particular, inspired me to take the fragile call to writing seriously again.  Taking seriously the politics of writing and writing as a vital dimension of our politics is one of the most important and difficult tasks of a scholar in general and queer theologian in particular.  Later discussions with Emilie Townes and Laurel Schneider on “the writing life,” of the practicalities and passions of writing in communities, and on telling stories that change worlds lured me onwards.  Truly, one of the queerest things queer theology does, what this summer did, for me, is take the messiness of our ordinary lives seriously—seriously in ways that meditate on justice, communities, ecologies, and everyday thoughts.

I could not be more grateful for every day of this program and the friendships and unexpected possibilities it fostered.

Natalie Williams (Religion and Society)

“You are going to make mistakes.” This sentence was repeated often during the Institute, and I cling to it now as a hopeful lesson for moving forward in my work. The point is not to instill fear—but to encourage brave action. The point is to come to a place where we cannot NOT act—to say something we  might not have said, to think creatively and imaginatively, and in short, to take risks.

Many inspiring, insightful, and risk-taking scholars spent time with our group. Mary Hunt, of WATER (Women’s Alliance for Theology, Ethics, and Ritual) was one whose talk I have returned to again and again in my memories of the mentoring week. Dr. Hunt spoke about the possible constraints of the academy on our thinking. She warned us not simply to follow the path that seems most attainable, but to think creatively about the ways scholars, religious leaders, and activists can work for sexual justice.

Moving forward, I am hopeful and excited about the work that will arise from each participant. I know the conversation did not end when we hugged goodbye. Rather, the conversation is just beginning as we strengthen networks of academic and institutional support across the country.

The conference was about history as well as historiography, as scholars from all over the world, both junior and senior, discussed and debated the interpretation of ancient texts, figures, and events.  It was also about history in the making for some of us first time presenters!  The experience of giving a paper in the span of only 12-15 minutes—a tradition at Oxford—permitted us merely to gesture toward our topics. However, the brevity of presentation time allowed for further dialogue on the perfectly groomed lawn of Christ Church College, in the echoing corridors of the Examination Schools, or at nearby pubs. These longer conversations fostered new collegial relationships and collaborations for future projects.

Finally, we appreciated the rich historical associations of our surroundings as well as the inescapable beauty of Oxford.  Dame Averil Cameron, Professor of Late Antiquity and Byzantine history, noted in her closing address that this sense of history contributes to the Oxford experience– to stand at the podium where John Wesley preached or in the place where Thomas Cranmer was tried for treason, for example. We had carried this sentiment with us throughout the week at Oxford and returned to Drew refreshed and inspired.—Jennifer Barry and Peter Anthony Mena, PhD students in Historical Studies

I moved out of the archive and left behind the not-so-cooperative microfilm machines. My next summer destination was a conference at Indiana University’s Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture. The university is known for its innovative journal, Religion and American Culture: A Journal of Interpretation. The Center in particular foregrounds “change” in conversations between political scientists, sociologists, scholars of religion, and historians within their respective fields.  The conference discussions pushed me to reflect on why many scholars are nervous about studying the biblical text; how the field of American religious studies understands itself relative to American religious history; and in what ways the notion of “imperial democracy” reframes discussions of race and religion in North America.  These questions revealed the volatile disciplinary grounds upon which my field rests, shifting the key of scholarship to include another—a key of methodological and disciplinary identity.

The third chapter of my summer began in nearby Princeton, New Jersey at the Hispanic Theological Initiative’s (HTI) summer workshop.  Established to “provide a forum for the exchange of information, ideas, and the best practices to address the needs of Latina/o faculty and students,” HTI welcomed me into the community as one of its newest members. Having finally found a language suitable to my mestizo or mixed ancestry (Mexican-American and Jewish), I embraced the moment in a newfound way.  I discovered a diverse community of motivated students and professors from all over Latin America. I thoroughly enjoyed the seminars, lectures, and discussions on publishing, clearer writing, and the pedagogy of Paulo Freire.  The days, and nights, were packed with fellowship, intense dialogue, and organic connection between friends and colleagues.  Tuned in the keys of scholarship and identity, my HTI experience added yet another component to an already melodious creation—community, or la comunidad.

My summer culminated in a course at the Hispanic Summer Program in Mundelein, Illinois.  Titled, “Religion and Race in the History of the Americas,” the seminar introduced me to literatures examining the legacy of modernity in Latin America through Spanish exploration, literature, Christianity, and “religion.”  De-colonial scholarship added complexity to this story, as world capitalist systems gave way to racial formations, nationalism, and internal colonialism in North America.

Looking back on my summer, I realize that one’s scholarship and experiences of various identities and communities do not represent discrete sources of individuality. Rather, they are co-constituted in a blend of individual choice and intersubjective sociality.  My own braided story emerged in this reflection with the help of musical metaphors, images of ancestral combination, and a language of self-identification that embraces both chotchkies and home-made guacamole. Despite this country’s collective unease with thoughts of racial and ethnic miscegenation, in many ways, my story, like countless others, is the nation’s story. In light of this history, I am deeply grateful for my new community, and for Drew’s support in furthering my commitment to rigorous exploration.—L. Benjamin Rolsky, PhD student in Historical Studies

In 1999, I received the MPhil in Theological and Religious Studies from Drew’s Graduate School. Since I was writing my dissertation on early American Methodism, I needed to travel to repositories in distant places. The Edwards-Mercer Prize enabled me to visit the John Rylands Library in Manchester, England.  While searching for correspondence from English Methodist Jabez Bunting, I discovered original documents written by John Wesley, apparently torn from his journal. These holographic entries were misfiled in a box of letters for almost one hundred years. Curiously, they were not included in the Jackson and Bicentennial editions of Wesley’s Works. My wife Thelma, also a Drew alumnus, helped me transcribe the journal entries, which were published in Methodist History July 2000. I later received my PhD in 2004.

Subsequently, I was invited to apply for the position of director of studies at the Charles Wesley Heritage Centre (CWHC) in Bristol, England. Scott Kisker, another Drew alumnus, and his wife were leaving the post to have their second baby. During my eighteen- month tenure at the CWHC, Thelma provided hospitality at Charles Wesley’s house while I guided several ex-patriot researchers through the terrain of Wesleys’ Bristol. I convened two major international consultations, the Orthodox-Methodist dialogue and En Su Propria Lengua: Wesley’s Works in Spanish. The latter conference raised many issues, one of which was the near absence of a current body of Wesley studies by Spanish-speaking scholars. Living in the historic home of Charles and Sarah Wesley, Thelma and I were concerned with telling their story. We wrote the drama, “Love Divine: The Story of Charles and Sarah Wesley,” which involves audience participation in the hymn singing. We have performed the drama/hymn-sing dozens of times in character. We presented it entirely in Spanish at PROBITEM seminary extension in Huancayo, Peru, and Colegio Maria Alvarado Prep School in Lima.

At the John Wesley Tercentenary celebration at SMU-Perkins School of Theology, I presented a paper on the impoverished state of Wesley scholarship in Spanish. As a result, we established the Hispanic Wesleyan Society (Sociedad Wesleyana) to promote Wesley studies in the Spanish-speaking world. I have served in the office of president since 2003. Our virtual membership uses social media to link constituents across the USA, in the Caribbean, and South America.

The Hispanic Wesley Society has opened many unexpected doors to ministry. I have been the conference Wesley teacher for the Wisconsin Annual Conference, a contributor to the Wesley Study Bible, and commissioner of the General Commission on Archives & History. On occasion, I also teach historical theology or Christian social ethics for Perkins School of Theology. Thelma also briefly returned to England to do advanced graduate studies in Wesley spirituality at Nazarene Theological College-University of Manchester. We are both ordained United Methodist clergy appointed to a small Hispanic congregation in the Rio Grande Conference.

This year, we both traveled to Durban, South Africa, where I officially joined the World Methodist Council. None of this exposure to the World parish would have been possible without the generous gift of that first Edwards-Mercer Prize, for which I will always be grateful. —Daniel F. Flores