Is There Such a Thing as “Theological Humility”?
Theological humility would be admitting profound ignorance about god(s)
When I was in seminary, Boston University School of Theology, during the 1960s, the Swiss theologian Karl Barth had gained world recognition—he was even featured on the cover of Time magazine in 1962. Over a thirty-five-year period (1932-1967) he wrote a 13-volume work titled, Church Dogmatics. Thus Barth had to be one of the major Christian thinkers for us to study as aspiring theologians. But one of my professors had a sense of humor, and one day quipped, “No one knows eight thousand pages about God—not even in German.”
This got a good laugh from the class, but for me it was a major stop-and-think moment.
How does anyone know even eight pages about god? Or how about even one page? The key word here, of course, is KNOW. If anyone claims to fill just one page with true knowledge/information about god(s), our most appropriate response would be: please tell us where you found the reliable, verifiable, objective data to back up your claim.
I was too curious, too skeptical. I grew up on the flat prairie of northern Indiana—flat all the way to the horizon in all directions. Thus our view of the night sky was awesome indeed, with very little light pollution from Chicago, about eighty miles to the north. Hence I had a passionate interest in astronomy—and curiosity: what—and maybe even who—is out there? About two decades before I was born, Edwin Hubble had determined that the Andromeda Galaxy is just that, another galaxy, about 2.5 million light years away. This discovery helped settle a debate among astronomers at the time, some of whom argued that the Milky Way Galaxy was the entire universe. Indeed, our galaxy is but one of billions of other galaxies. We also know that our sun completes one orbit around the Milky Way galactic center in 230 million years.
Hence one of the thoughts that plagued me in seminary—as we claimed to be so sure what our god was like—was our total isolation as humans in the Cosmos. We have no clue, no idea whatever, what other thinking creatures out there may have speculated, concluded about god(s). Yet here we are on this tiny planet posturing confidently about the supposed divine realm. Talk about arrogance! One of my seminary buddies became angry when I discussed these facts. “You’re hung up on astronomy!” Not at all: I was hung up on the realities about the Cosmos that astronomy had revealed.
There were several other such stop-and-think moments in my seminary experience. By the time I graduated with my PhD in Biblical Studies, I had abandoned belief in god. Nothing I had been taught held up under careful scrutiny. I had become an atheist.
Yet I still receive notifications and publications from the BU School of Theology. Its magazine is called Focus, and one 2024 issue was titled: Theological Humility: For the Sake of the Church, the Academy, and the World. Part of the motivation for this issue seems to have been the perceived need to get along with other religions, other cultures. But is there really any such thing as theological humility—or is it all just word games?
The issue opens with a brief essay by the dean of the school, G. Sujin Pak, in which she makes this statement:
“Theological humility is a brave space. It is not about being indecisive. It is not lack of conviction about what one believes. It does not require one to embrace an “anything goes” perspective. On the contrary, theological humility navigates a space between profound convictions (deep beliefs we hold about God and the world) and divine, sacred mystery—the sacred mystery of God, the sacred mystery of an other, the sacred mystery of even one’s own self—recognizing and affirming the fragile sacredness and mystery that saturates life.” (p. 2)
Coming from the dean of one of the most prestigious schools of theology, we may be tempted to overlook that this is theobabble. She offers no reliable, verifiable, objective data for us to take seriously the “deep beliefs we hold about God.” Nor does she provide the data to support the “divine, sacred mystery—the sacred mystery of God…” These are age-old theological assumptions based on guesswork and speculations derived from ancient writings (e.g. the Bible), supposed revelations, meditations and prayers. The folks who attend seminaries have had such ideas imbedded in their brains since they were toddlers. I can say that because it was what happened with me.
The dean comes close to true confessions when she then states: “Theological humility—much like faith—is anchored by conviction while embracing the unknown. It never loses sight of the limits of one’s knowledge.” (p. 2) As our knowledge of our place in the Cosmos has become bluntly, starkly real—human theological speculations have happened in total isolation on this tiny planet—the limits of our knowledge in this area are difficult for us to grasp. Her comparison of theological humility to faith is especially disappointing. Faith is embracing something unsupported by solid evidence, or as Mark Twain put it, ““Having faith is believing in something you just know ain't true.”
Yet I still receive notifications and publications from the BU School of Theology. Its magazine is called Focus, and one 2024 issue was titled: Theological Humility: For the Sake of the Church, the Academy, and the World. Part of the motivation for this issue seems to have been the perceived need to get along with other religions, other cultures. But is there really any such thing as theological humility—or is it all just word games?
I wonder which Christian denominations could justifiably brag that they are “more humble than all the others?” Another article in Focus, written by Bryan Stone, a professor at the school of theology, includes this statement:
“…perhaps no Christian practice is as likely to neglect humility as evangelism. After all, it’s pretty hard to be humble when you are absolutely certain in your beliefs, and one of your highest priorities is getting others to think and believe as you do.” (p. 48)
Tim Sledge, an evangelical preacher for thirty years, made this observation in his book, Four Disturbing Questions with One Simple Answer: Breaking the Spell of Christian Belief:
“Take a group of these born-again, new creations in Christ—to whom God is giving directions and guidance for day-to-day life—put them in a church and wait. Eventually, some of them will get into a disagreement about something. Sometimes, they work it out, but often, no matter how much prayer takes place, one group gets angry and leaves, often to start a new congregation. Wait a little longer and the process will repeat—over and over—and that’s one reason we have not only thousands of churches, but thousands of Christian denominations.” (p. 16)
It would be impossible for the Catholic Church to lay claim to humility, given its obsession with building magnificent churches to impress the gullible masses—and the excessive costuming that goes along with their spectacular sets. Truly, they follow the dictum, “There’s no business like show business.”
· Guessing About God (2023),
· Ten Things Christians Wish Jesus Hadn’t Taught: And Other Reasons to Question His Words (2021). The Spanish translation of this book is also available.
· Everything You Need to Know About Prayer But May Not Want to Admit (2025)
The Cure-for-Christianity Library©, now with more than 500 titles, is here. A brief video explanation of the Library is here.
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