Nov 15, 2012
One of the most insightful and poignant moments in Myers’ book is when he links Williams’ theology to the church season of Lent. Lent is the moment in the church’s calendar in which Williams’ theology seems most at home. During the forty days leading up to Easter, we practice abstinence, we repent and discipline our desires, placing our hands over our mouths, partaking of what Bulgakov calls the “luminous sorrow” of the preparatory fast. If we recognize the legitimacy of this pentitential discipline, perhaps we can better appreciate what Williams aims to achieve in his theology. But at the same, recognizing that Lent eventually yields up its shadows to the brightness of Easter, perhaps we can also find room to criticize Williams’ choice to linger over Lent. Darkness and fasting can’t be the whole story. “A theology of Lent is a great thing,” writes Myers, “but one cannot live by ash alone.” Reading this comment, I found myself recalling W. H. Auden’s criticism of Kierkegaard’s theology: “like all heretics, conscious or unconscious, he is a monodist, who can hear with particular acuteness one theme in the New Testament—in his case, the theme of suffering and self-sacrifice—but is deaf to its rich polyphony …. The Passion of Christ was to Kierkegaard’s taste, the Nativity and Epiphany were not.” Might the same be said of Williams?
me, reviewing a new book about the theology of Rowan Williams
My name is Wesley Hill. I am an assistant professor of New Testament at Trinity School for Ministry in Ambridge, Pennsylvania.

This is my commonplace book and sometime-journal.

I blog at

My book is here: Washed and Waiting: Reflections on Christian Faithfulness and Homosexuality.

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