March 4, 2000
Vulnerable God Theology: An Emerging New Orthodoxy?
God is powerful. Few theists would deny that statement. In Christian churches, children are taught songs to reinforce the idea:
My God is so BIG, so STRONG, and so MIGHTY;
There’s nothing my God cannot do!
Children emphasize the adjectives, posing as weightlifters, clearly conveying their muscular image of God. Christian adults are no different. It is no surprise that one of the most oft quoted verses of Scripture is Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through him [Christ] who strengthens me” (NRSV). Christians historically have viewed God as a deity enveloped in power. Theologies emphasizing the God’s strength have constituted the majority of opinion for the better part of two thousand years.
However, the twentieth century witnessed an uprising of the opposite concept: the weakness of God. In fact, as the twentieth century drew to a close, the majority of theologians began to espouse such a God. This concept knew few boundaries, drawing in such varied theologians as James Wm. McClendon, James Cone, Gustavo Gutiérrez, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, William Placher, and Peter Hodgson. From Liberation Theology to Reformed Theology to “baptist” theology, the concept of a weak God gained popularity. As Placher notes in his book, Narratives of a Vulnerable God, a weak God seems to have become the “new orthodoxy.”1 If popularity is the measure of orthodoxy, then Placher may be correct.
However, the theology of a vulnerable God is not without its critics. Theologians such as Elizabeth Johnson, Robert Jenson, and Herbert McCabe have noted some difficulties with the concept of a weak God. This paper asks with these critics: Should vulnerable God theology be a new orthodoxy? I will test Placher’s Narratives as a representative of vulnerable God theology. Following the brief look at Placher, I will point out some of the problems with vulnerable God theology in general; and I will then note one specific doctrinal dilemma.
One question consistently emerges while reading Placher’s work: What are the advantages of a vulnerable God? Placher asserts that a vulnerable God is closer to the biblical narrative. He argues that God is seen most fully in the person of Jesus Christ who must have been vulnerable as he was nailed to a cross. If God was pushed “out of the world and onto the cross” in Jesus, then, Placher reasons, God must be vulnerable in the same way outside of Jesus.2 After all, why would God choose a self-revelation inconsistent with the rest of the Godhead?3
Placher believes that the vulnerable God better empathizes with humanity. The biblical God, Placher states, is not a far-removed God. On the contrary, God is in the midst of humanity, working in creation. In addition, God did not merely observe humanity, but God participated in humanity by becoming human. God took on human characteristics in order to save humanity, and Placher believes those characteristics include vulnerability. Placher argues that only in being vulnerable in love can God empathize with humanity’s vulnerability.4
There are three basic tenets in Placher’s thesis that God is vulnerable. First, Placher proposes that God is vulnerable because God is love.5 Love, an unconditional giving of self, requires risk from the human perspective. Placher reasons that if God truly loves, then God must experience some element of risk. A vulnerable God is quite anthropocentric in appearance, especially with respect to love. This risk implies God’s vulnerability, for risking love would open God to vulnerability. However, while the vulnerable God is anthropocentric in many facets, Placher attempts to remain Christocentric. Placher’s Trinitarian argument focuses on the premise that the second person of the Trinity is the best representation of God for humanity.
Second, Placher emphasizes the triune nature of God. Placher notes that Jesus “wanders with nowhere to lay his head, washes the feet of his disciples like a servant, and suffers and dies on a cross.”6 Placher argues that this is “God’s own self come as self-revelation to humankind.”7 Thus, Placher argues, if the eternal Son of God is represented in the God-man Jesus, the God-man Jesus can be viewed as the second person of the Trinity. While the Trinity is composed of distinctly different persons, those persons cannot be separated from one another. Placher reasons that if Jesus experienced suffering, the remaining two persons of the Trinity must be vulnerable (or experience suffering) as well. The tension between anthropocentricity and Christocentricity is highest in this regard. Obviously, Placher wants to use Jesus as the primary example of what it means to be a vulnerable lover. At the same time, the very nature of Jesus (God-man) inherently limits the divine representation that Jesus can put forward. As a result, Placher is Christocentric in intent, but more anthropocentric in argument.
Third, Placher employs ethical examples to demonstrate theological points. The last section of the book is devoted to a church that is governed by vulnerable love. If humans live in vulnerable love instead of in pursuit of power, Placher maintains that a greater humanity will be attained.8 If vulnerable love creates a better humanity, then this better humanity serves as an example that vulnerable love must be the love of God, according to Placher. If vulnerable love works, then it is the best love in existence, and therefore must belong to God. This method of reasoning clearly follows from the idea that Jesus teaches humanity the best way to love, and that method of loving is vulnerable love. Placher deduces that if Jesus the God-man loves vulnerably, the Triune Godhead must also be one that loves vulnerably. Again, the tension between the Christocentric and the anthropocentric are visible.
While Placher’s theology is refreshingly Christocentric, it has three major weaknesses: First, Placher’s understanding of God’s relation to time works against his thesis that God experiences risk; second, Placher avoids the resurrection accounts in Jesus’ narrative; and, third, Placher deems God’s suffering necessary for God’s empathy.
The first weakness addresses Placher’s chapter entitled, “The Eternal God.”9 In this chapter, Placher answers an apparent paradox of a vulnerable God. If God is vulnerable, what assures believers that God cannot be overcome with vulnerability? Placher says that God cannot be overcome with vulnerability because God is eternal—God simultaneously exists in all of time.10 (This method of noting God’s relationship to time appeals to the idea that the Creator and the creature are two distinct creatures, posing entirely separate problems for Placher and his anthropology/Christology tension.) If God could be overcome with vulnerability, humanity would have already witnessed that downfall, for God’s future would be God’s present as well. However, since God has not fallen, Placher argues that God cannot be overcome with vulnerability.11 This argument seems logical on the surface, but it raises an important question about the relationship of risk and eternity.
Placher’s primary argument is that God is vulnerable in love. God is vulnerable because he is freely “at risk.”12 He states, “God can help because God acts out of love, and love risks suffering.”13 God’s risk comes from humanity and the love that God has for humanity, Placher argues. His argument seems logical: True love requires an element of risk. One’s love could be rejected at any moment. God truly loves us; therefore, God must risk this rejection as well. Any Christian could attest to the fact that God has been rejected at one time or another by some element of humanity. It seems fair to say that Placher is right: God risks vulnerability in love.
However, risk necessarily includes some element of surprise. One is not risking anything if the outcome is certain. Is God surprised by humanity’s rejection of God? From what we know about God, it seems doubtful that God has been surprised. Humanity’s definition of love must include risk, because humanity cannot exist eternally as God can. But Placher argues that God exists in eternity simultaneously. If God knows the outcome of love, then God is not really risking vulnerability. Risk is not the primary element of God’s love; rather, willingness in spite of certain rejection is. Humanity loves hoping that it will not be rejected. God loves fully knowing that rejection is unavoidable. And yet God continues to love.
The second weakness is less complicated. By writing a theology of a vulnerable God, Placher focuses on the love of God found in the person of Jesus, specifically in Jesus’ crucifixion, for this is the ultimate representation of God’s vulnerability. However, due to his Markan focus, Placher does not address the resurrection. As a result, the Crucified One becomes the singular pose for God in Placher’s theology. A triune theology, like Placher’s, ought not to ignore the crucifixion, but it also ought not to ignore the theological significance of Easter. If the narrative of Jesus is the focus of theology, as Placher maintains, then the resurrection should be addressed. If the resurrection is addressed, then the emphasis moves from God’s vulnerability to God’s triumph over death and suffering. The crucifixion and other “vulnerable” moments of Jesus’ earthly ministry are still important in understanding God, but they cannot become the only filter for viewing God’s love.
The resurrection accounts portray God’s love as more than vulnerable. The resurrection adds a supernatural dimension to the Divine love, moving love from a necessarily anthropological viewpoint. Vulnerable love succeeds in its mission, yes; but the resurrection, which is beyond the anthropological, supplements vulnerable love with a love that no longer must be vulnerable. Instead of being subject to the power of others, the resurrection paints the Divine love as a love with triumph. If the crucifixion is the final account, love seems pointless. The resurrection adds hope to the narrative of love.
The third weakness of Placher’s vulnerable God has been alluded to throughout the paper. Placher puts anthropocentric boundaries on Divine love, thus continually conflicting with his intent of being Christocentric. Placher argues that God must be vulnerable, for if God was not vulnerable, God could not love humanity.14 But is this true? Herbert McCabe argues against such necessary suffering. McCabe follows Thomas Aquinas’ belief that God is at once fully transcendent yet is fully involved in creation. Aquinas argues that God must be transcendent because God is other than creation, yet God must be intimately involved in creation for God serves to sustain and hold all of creation together. God is larger than human understanding, McCabe says. Too often, God is placed within the logic of human thinking, and as a result, God is placed in an either/or dilemma. McCabe argues that the either/or dilemma has been this: Either God is transcendent and indifferent to the sufferings of humanity, or God is affected by suffering and is capable of loving us. Such logic, McCabe points out, limits God unnecessarily.15 McCabe goes on to say, “It does not follow that if God is not affected by human suffering, he is indifferent to it.”16 Instead, God is fully transcendent because God is not created. However, God is involved because God is the Sustainer. McCabe argues that God can be transcendent and compassionate simultaneously.
Given these criticisms, let us now turn in conclusion to a case study. The vulnerable/weak/suffering God paradigm has another problem: petitionary prayer. Prayer has been traditionally understood as communication between God and human, and petitionary prayer is communication when the believer asks God for Divine intervention in any number of cases. But if God is vulnerable, what good is it to ask such a God for help? Joan Northam has noted that if she found herself at the bottom of a pit with a broken arm that she would “want and urgently need . . . a Rescuer with a very bright light and a long ladder, full of strength, joy and assurance who can get me out of the pit, not a god who sits in the darkness suffering with me.”17
Who is God if God is not Helper? Few logical options remain. One of those options says God would not be omnipotent, but God would merely be the most powerful being in existence. If this option were true, prayer would have limits, as God would become a being and therefore be finite. However, those limits are not clearly set forth in the biblical narrative. In fact, quite the opposite seems to be the norm according to Scripture. The biblical narrative tells that prayer yields a harvest of healings, miracles, and the like. In addition, there are no boundaries drawn for legitimate prayers. The impression given believers through the Bible is that God can answer any request. As W.T. Conner notes, Abraham pleads for the sinful Sodom, Moses begs for the fickle Israelites, and Paul prays for those who reject the gospel.18 Prayers can be offered for most any reason, and the Bible tells that God answers some of the most impossible requests. While personal experience may tell differently, most Christians would still argue that God can answer any prayer, but that sometimes God simply chooses not to answer, or to answer differently than was requested.
Another option presents God as the “fellow-sufferer who understands.”19 Like the idea of the most powerful being, this option limits prayer as well, probably more severely than the previous option. If God is the fellow-sufferer, then it sounds as if God has no more strength than a human does. In this case, prayer not only loses some of its influence, but it loses all. One must ask why prayers should be offered at all to a God that suffers in the same capacity as humanity. The only other option that seems to be available is that of a God who is vulnerable yet still retains all power in prayer. If this is the case, neither Placher nor any of the other vulnerable God theologians have theorized how this happens, nor how the biblical narrative works into this idea.
Placher clearly believes that a vulnerable God will help, but the “how” remains questionable. Placher says, “God can help because God acts out of love, and love risks suffering. A God defined in terms of power is precisely not a reliable rescuer, because power provides no guarantee of concern.”20 Prayers should be answered out of love, not power, according to Placher. Are love and power mutually exclusive? Placher thinks so; for he says that God cannot both love and be powerful. Placher instead argues that God only acts out of the power of love—the risk of vulnerability. However, McCabe’s argument from above indicates that power and love can coexist in God.21 Placher writes of a God free from the constraints of power in order to free God from the limits that human thought has imposed. But Placher is guilty of the same offense by determining that God’s power and love must be separate, or at least serve to qualify one another. By giving dogmatic priority to love over power Placher’s doctrine of God becomes constrained and finite. If petitionary prayer is to be effective, then God must be both loving and powerful. God must have power to intercede on behalf of humanity; God must have power, or humanity would not pray unto such a God.
Should a vulnerable God be the new orthodoxy? In spite of its theological weaknesses, a vulnerable God does have advantages. It moves thinking about God from the sphere of raw power to the power of love; it makes the picture of God Christocentric; it focuses on the Bible as its source of understanding about who God is; and it gives multiple ethical examples for the church to follow in vulnerable love. These strengths set the idea of a vulnerable God apart as one of the most important theological contributions of the twentieth century. However, vulnerability, like any other single-faceted theology, misses some of the other aspects present in the biblical narrative. Placher and his colleagues cannot ignore the narratives of Jesus that demonstrate the power of God. From healing to feeding, from walking on water to transfiguration, from virgin birth to resurrection, no narrative theology can ignore the importance of these scenes in the self-revelation of God. Placher should be commended for emphasizing the vulnerable love of which God is capable. However, Placher needs to balance this vulnerable love with the other narratives that demonstrate God’s supernatural power as well.
Specifically, the vulnerable God portrayed by Placher is Christocentric, as the story of Jesus becomes the story of God. However, Placher’s Christology is so “low” that it casts God beyond participating in humanity; it casts God as human in every respect. God risks; God is forced to either become loving or impassible. These human limitations culminate in a God that is eternally crucified and never resurrected. As stated above, if the narrative model is to have merit in determining the character of God, the resurrection must be included. The story of God cannot end with Good Friday. As Ralph Martin has noted, “The Resurrection is by common consent the decisive element in the kerygma and its note runs through the early chapters of Acts like a haunting refrain.”22 Perhaps Placher would benefit by recognizing that some of the “vulnerable love” in the biblical narrative of Jesus is love that is peculiar to the human situation. Elizabeth Johnson fears the doctrine of a vulnerable God for this very reason. “The ideal of the helpless divine victim serves only to strengthen women’s dependency and potential for victimization . . . the image of a powerless, suffering God . . . must be resisted.”23 In other words, perhaps God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ has more than a singular purpose. Jesus tells humanity who God is, but Jesus also tells humanity what it can be. Jesus’ crucifixion may have been more than Divine vulnerable love. Perhaps it was meant as an example for his followers, not to be martyrs, but to love like only humanity can: with risk.
In conclusion, the vulnerable God is not yet ready to be presented as a new orthodoxy. The ideas of God loving and risking may be appealing to humanity and specifically to Christians, but the desires of humanity cannot determine the character of God. Placher himself wants to be true to the narrative. God may indeed be vulnerable, and God indeed may risk. Those qualities seem obvious in the person of Jesus. However, until vulnerable God theologians further systematize their thought, the rise of the vulnerable God paradigm must cease. Currently, vulnerable theology is a theology without actualization. Until is has been fleshed out more fully in some sort of a systematic framework, it will continue to have problems. My hope of this paper is not to detract from the work of Placher and other theologians, but instead to prompt such an actualization. Specifically, the issue of prayer and the narratives that demonstrate qualities other than, or quite opposite to, vulnerability must be answered. God is clearly a loving God, but the vulnerability of God and the power of God cannot be understood as mutually exclusive.
Ronald Goetz, “The Suffering God: The Rise of a New Orthodoxy,” Christian Century 103 (April 16, 1986): 385-89, quoted in William C. Placher, Narratives of a Vulnerable God: Christ, Theology, and Scripture (Louisville: Westminster-John Knox Press, 1994), 6.
Quoted from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers From Prison, trans. Reginald H. Fuller (New York: Macmillan, 1972), 360-61.
Placher, 7-9.
Ibid., 20.
Ibid.., xiii.
Ibid.
Ibid., xiv.
Ibid.
Ibid., 27-52.
11 Ibid., 45.
13Ibid., 18.
Ibid., 19.
Herbert McCabe, “The Involvement of God,” God Matters (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1987), 41.
Ibid., 44.
Joan Northam, “The Kingdom, the Power and the Glory,” Expository Times 99 (1988):302 quoted in Placher, 18.
Walter Thomas Conner, Christian Doctrine (Nashville: Broadman, 1937), 234.
Alfred North Whitehed, Process and Reality (New York: Free Press, 1969), 413.
Placher, 18.
Cf. pages 6-7.
23 Elizabeth Johnson, She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse (New York: Crossroad, 1992), 254.