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    The Ultimate and the Ordinary: A Profile of Langdon Gilkey
    by Joseph L. Price


    Joseph L. Price is associate professor of religion at Whittier College, Whittier, California.

    This article appeared in the Christian Century, April 12, 1989, p. 380. Copyright by the Christian Century Foundation and
    used by permission. Current articles and subscription information can be found at www.christiancentury.org.
    This material was prepared for Religion Online by Ted & Winnie Brock.

    When the winter quarter ended this year at the University of Chicago Divinity School, Langdon Gilkey,
    the Shailer Mathews professor of theology, retired after a quarter-century at the school, where he had
    been a colleague of such eminent theologians and scholars of religious studies as Paul Tillich, Mircea
    Eliade, Paul Ricoeur and David Tracy.

    Although he will continue to teach occasionally -- at both the University of Chicago and the Lutheran
    School of Theology -- Gilkey has formally closed his teaching career, which began almost four decades
    ago. He has taught at Vassar and Vanderbilt and at universities in Japan and the Netherlands. He has
    lectured to academic and ecclesiastical groups on four continents, taught Sunday school classes and
    delivered sermons in Baptist churches in the North and South, attended sessions of Vatican II and
    participated in tantric yoga sessions sponsored by the Sikh movement in America. His experience,
    presence and influence bridge the often artificial chasm between the academic study of religion and the
    parish, between northern and. southern cultures in the U.S., between Protestantism and Catholicism,
    and between Christianity and other religions.

    Throughout his career, Gilkey’s theological interests have ranged from traditional theological concepts,
    such as creation and providence, to theology’s dialogues with the natural sciences, social sciences, and
    arts. And recently his interests have turned to Christian theology’s conversation with other religions.
    Among his enduring achievements have been the publication of ten books and a hundred essays, a term
    as president of the American Academy of Religion, and the teaching of thousands of students who now
    lead in the study and practice of religion.

    Students and friends remember him most vividly for his adventurous spirit, sense of humor, love of
    sports, devotion to family and skill as a storyteller. With typical humor and sensitivity, Gilkey tells of his
    pleasure at being named to the Shailer Mathews chair in theology. His daughter, then in early grade
    school, was delighted too. "I am so glad, Dad, that you have somewhere to sit down." He realized that he
    was introducing her to Platonic ideas. Disappointed with the abstractness of his chair, she presented to
    him a dollhouse-size wicker chair with the comment, "Here is a real chair." He keeps the little chair in his
    office as a reminder that the significance of the title is relative to one’s respect for Platonic ideas and the
    nature of higher education.

    Gilkey’s stories are more than vivid anecdotes. They expose his existential vulnerability and exemplify
    how the human condition is fallible, humorous and potentially compassionate; they also provide the
    ground for meaningful theological discourse.

    Gilkey has repeatedly written about the mutual formation of his life and thought, first in Shantung
    Compound (1966) and most recently in an intellectual autobiography, "A Retrospective Glance at
    My Work," the introduction to the festschrift volume The Whirlwind in Culture (1988).
    In Shantung Compound, he reflects upon his internment in a civilian war camp. After graduating from
    Harvard, Gilkey began teaching English at Yenching University in China, then under Japanese
    occupation, and while he was in Beijing the United States entered World War II. As a precautionary
    action, the Japanese rounded up Americans and other Allied civilians in China and interned them in
    Shantung Compound. Confined in a small space with 1,500 to 2,000 other people, he had an oppor-
    tunity to observe the world in a microcosmic form. "This internment camp reduced society, ordinarily
    large and complex, to viewable sizes and by subjecting life to greatly increased tension laid bare its
    essential structures." He suggests that what makes this story so interesting and enlightening is not its
    extraordinary character but its concern with ordinary life. For the problems that he and his fellow captives
    experienced were caused not so much by their Japanese captors as by their own behavior. For example,
    they defended their space allocation, making sure that beds were not moved a few inches to create
    unequal space. Craving eggs, they began to smuggle them into the camp and trade them in a black
    market. They sought status and influence based on ability to work ‘rind think rather than on an inherited
    position of privilege. They desired fair distribution of Red Cross packages -- even when the entire
    contents were ill-fitting shoes of a single size.

    Through these events, Gilkey explores the fallibilities and possibilities of the human condition. He
    discerns the fundamental character of human beings -- their needs, greed, anxieties, fears, hopes,
    egos and capacity for humor and generosity. The book is more than a religious autobiography: it is
    autobiography as theology, and as such it provides a contemporary example of the sort of theological
    reflection found in Augustine’s Confessions.

    Gilkey has consistently interpreted the ordinary character of life with extraordinary clarity and depth.
    In the footnotes of his 1964 book How the Church Can Minister to the World Without Losing Itself --
    a title that Gilkey neither proposed nor liked -- he comments on the character of religious life in the
    South and his interaction with it during the late 1950s and early 1960s. "Several years of Sunday-
    school teaching in a Nashville church, and the frequent researches of students into the religious
    habits, capacities, interests, and learning of their parishioners, long ago convinced [me] that even
    in the ‘Bible Belt’ the Bible is a relatively unknown book -- sacred, of course, but quite unfamiliar."
    Similarly, he tells about the occasion when he delivered a lecture at a major Baptist university in the
    Southwest. Thinking that his presentation would be received more sympathetically if he delivered it in
    sermonic form, he selected an appropriate biblical text to read at the beginning of his speech. Since
    he had not taken a Bible with him, he planned to use one from the university chapel. Surprisingly, he
    discovered that there was no pulpit Bible in the chapel, so he had to use the Bible from his hotel room.
    Creationism on Trial: Evolution and God at Little Rock (1985) continues his autobiography as theology.
    It describes his involvement in the trial that challenged the constitutionality of the Arkansas law prescrib-
    ing the teaching of "scientific creationism" in public schools. He examines the conflicts between some
    scientists and religious leaders, observing the ironies that distinguished this trial from the Scopes trial a
    half-century earlier. In the Arkansas trial the suit was filed by an ecclesiastical coalition, while the defense
    called scientists to support the "scientific creationist" theory. The religious leaders argued for the non-
    preferential treatment of their religious traditions, while the scientists sought to expand the aegis of
    science to include the religiously based premises of "scientific creationism."

    Gilkey consummates his published reflections on the mutual formation of his life and thought in his
    festscrift essay. Here he charts the development of his theological method and concerns from neo-
    orthodox propositions to a Christian pluralism that accepts the "rough parity" of Christianity with other
    religions. What interests him most now is "dialogue among religions and of religions in their interface
    with cultures." Though reluctant to offer predictions, which he regards as statements "mostly [about]
    where we think things ought to go, particularly in the direction of the interest of the speaker," he projects
    that "the plurality of religions will become more of an issue as we become conscious of more variety
    among religions. The problem of pluralism is going to grow.
    In their dialogues with other religions, Gilkey cautions, Christian theologians will face a fundamental
    problem: retaining that which is essential to the Christian faith while remaining open to genuine dialogue
    with other faiths. Gilkey suggests that Christians "must hang on to the character of the mystery of the
    divine. We do know that the divine requires justice and that the divine is love. That is the uncompromis-
    ing foundation for Christian theology in its dialogue with other traditions."

    These projections, however, are subject to the vicissitudes of history. As Gilkey emphasizes, "Events
    are always the clue. Who knows what Bush will do, how the Ayatollah will act, or where Japanese
    developments will take us?" The course of theology will be integrally connected with political, cultural
    and economic events in the coming years, even as Gilkey’s own theology has developed out of the praxis
    of his life.

    As a champion competitor in tennis, Gilkey toured France in the late 1930s with a Harvard-Yale team,
    barely escaping the outbreak of war. Upon his return to Harvard for his senior year he collaborated with
    Avery Dulles to organize a Keep America Out of the War Committee. But as the horror of Hitler’s advances
    continued to mount and as the committee tried to align British colonialism with Hitler’s conquests, Gilkey
    and Dulles withdrew from the organization. The moral complexities surrounding the war seemed irresolv-
    able to the young, liberal philosopher. On the one hand he aspired to a pacifist position; on the other he
    upheld the ideals of justice and freedom. The two conflicting urges seemed to pull him in opposite
    directions -- one toward staying out of the war and the other toward joining the fight for freedom and
    justice. Increasingly uncertain about how he could respond to American involvement in the war, he
    heeded his father’s suggestion that he hear "Reinie" preach. On a Sunday in early April 1940, Gilkey
    went to the Harvard chapel to listen to Reinhold Niebuhr, who offered an analysis of international power
    struggles. "Suddenly, as the torrent of insight poured from the pulpit, my world in disarray spun completely
    around, steadied, and then settled into a new and quite firm and intelligible structure. . . . My conversion --
    and that is the right word -- was quick and complete." Within two weeks he read all of Niebuhr’s works,
    and revised his anticipated course on "Modern Western Thought" to include Niebuhr’s answers to the
    queries of the progressive humanism that was popular among liberal philosophers. It was a Niebuhrian
    perspective that provided the framework for interpreting the Shantung experience -- through neoorthodox
    categories of transcendence, sin, revelation and grace.

    At the close of the war Gilkey returned to the U.S. to prepare for a career in international law. But he
    found the course work boring and turned to the study of philosophy and theology at Columbia University
    and Union Theological Seminary, where Niebuhr taught and where he was to meet Tillich. Their influences
    would pervade his entire career. Like Niebuhr, Gilkey has had a prophetic sense of justice and political
    awareness; for 40 years he has worked for civil rights, justice and peace. He even risked his own
    professorial appointment in the early ‘60s when he protested the expulsion of a black activist student
    from Vanderbilt University. And like Tillich, Gilkey has identified and explored the depths of theological
    and cultural symbols, finding in them clues to the fundamental religious underpinnings of existence.
    Historical events and personal relationships prompted Gilkey to write Naming the Whirlwind (1969),
    an extended prolegomenon for theological method. During the mid-1960s, the death-of-God theology
    had denied the meaningfulness of theological discourse in our modern, secular, technological age. Gilkey
    himself was the midwife at the birth of death-of-God theology. Intrigued by the common concern about the
    seeming meaninglessness of theological language, Gilkey had introduced William Hamilton, Thomas J. J.
    Altizer and Paul van Buren to one another’s works. But Gilkey’s critiques of the death-of-God position were
    also frequent in the following months and years, and his arguments in Naming the Whirlwind performed the
    euthanasia on the movement. This may have been the first time in history that a single theologian helped
    both form and dissolve a major theological position.

    In this work he provides a foundation for the reasonability of theological language. To accomplish this,
    he pursues the limits, significance and possibilities of ordinary, personal, secular experience. He identifies
    in the structure of existence a latent dimension of ultimacy; this dimension is found beneath and through
    the contingent, temporal and relative character of existence itself. In turn, the indeterminate character of
    existence constitutes the basis of human freedom in which people have distorted and aborted the
    possibilities for doing good that the structure of existence itself affords. Restoration of the full possibility
    for good, he concludes, cannot emerge from the ambiguous and contingent possibilities in existence itself.
    Renewal or healing must come from some dimension beyond the limits of the ordinary, secular order.
    This line of reasoning does not prove the existence of God or the adequacy of Christianity. What Gilkey
    does establish is the reasonability of theological language and the reasonability of people’s quest for
    meaning and queries about the significance of history. Having established the feasibility of theological
    discourse, Gilkey recognizes that the challenge for the Christian theologian is to interpret and apply
    Christian symbols to the problems and hopes of the present age. Like Tillich, Gilkey calls this method of
    theology "correlational." The theologian explores the hidden depths of historical experience and relates
    the biblical witness to God as creator, providential caregiver, savior, judge and transcendent mystery to
    the questions that emerge from the latent dimension of existence.

    Gilkey attempted to implement this process while still a graduate student. He attended a conference for
    American Baptist ministers and theologians at Green Lake, Wisconsin. The denomination, he recalls,
    had long been divided between conservative evangelicals and liberals. At the meeting a group of young
    theologians, like Gilkey, supported the kind of theological perspective espoused by the evangelicals,
    one that focused on revelation, sin and grace. Gilkey pleaded that to interpret modern history one must
    use such specifically theological motifs as divine judgment and the Second Corning. After the meeting,
    much to Gilkey’ s surprise, a conservative sought him out and remarked, "I can’t tell you how wonderful
    it is to hear the younger men talking this way about the Second Coming! It’s going to come soon, isn’t it?
    And where do you think it will be? Just outside Jerusalem?" Astonished that the man was projecting literal
    expectations into his symbolic framework, Gilkey realized that theologians must clarify the nature and
    meaning of theological symbols, as well as employ them appropriately in discourse.

    Some 40 years after that experience, Gilkey continues to reaffirm that "the perennial task of theology
    is so to state the Christian faith that it is a help to the people of the church." But having established the
    ground for theological discussions in the nature of ordinary experience, Gilkey does not limit theology’s
    influence to the realm of believers. As he puts it, "Theology has an inner and outer role."’ In a recent
    conversation he commented about theology’s "outer" or public role: "It should set in its own terms the
    best ideals of the culture that it is in." but it should not merely advocate the cultural ideals. "At its best,"
    he concluded, "theology should be a prophetic critic of church and culture."

    Whereas in the aftermath of World War II Gilkey emphasized Christian themes of crisis, he now calls
    for a renaissance of thought on the mystery of God, because "reality is pretty much a mystery." In its
    dialogue with modern science, in exploring the structure and sustenance of reality, and in its encounter
    with other religions, theology constantly confronts dimensions of divine mystery. "The mystery of the
    divine is crucial for understanding" the nature of reality and the goal of theology.More than any theolo-
    gian since Tillich, Gilkey has addressed the existential, cultural, social and political issues that our "time
    of troubles" (one of his favorite descriptions of our era) has pressed upon us. In this regard, his work
    has been significant not only for Christian theology’s understanding of reality and its relation to the
    divine, but for Western culture as a whole, since he has repeatedly and creatively examined the struc-
    tures and meaning of groups, events, actions and art.

    With grace and perception, Gilkey has explored the ordinary anxieties and fallibilities that perplex us.
    Through his analysis of ordinary experience, he has Uncovered and surveyed the ground for theological
    discourse. Through personal testimony, historical analysis and biblical awareness, he has established a
    contemporary foundation for a Christian interpretation of the dimension of ultimacy within ordinary
    experience. In so doing, he has made theology intelligible for our secular and troubled age.


    Langdon Brown Gilkey (1919 – November 19, 2004)
    was an American Protestant Ecumenical theologian.
    A Harvard graduate, he moved to China to teach English
    in 1940 and was imprisoned by the Japanese in 1943.  
    He was Professor of Theology at the University of Chicago
    Divinity School from 1977 till March 1989.
    --Taken from 'Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia'
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