Author Archives: christa

by Sarah Lane Ritchie

Each month Blogos features an article created in partnership with the Logos Institute’s Logia initiative. This month’s Logia post is by Sarah Lane Ritchie. More information about Logia and additional articles are available here.

“Is there a God? Who is God? Why do humans exist? Is there anything more to reality than the earthy stuff of the physical world? How do I know what is true?” I can’t remember a time when these sorts of questions didn’t keep me awake at night. Even as a child, I hungered to explore the limits of human knowledge, and to encounter the God who existed beyond the borders of the physical and the finite. This pursuit of the real, whatever it might be, found a natural expression for me in two parallel pursuits: science and theology. While I quickly learned that much of the world views religious thinking and knowledge to be at war with the sciences, even from a young age I intuitively sensed that both science and theology are reality-seeking enterprises. As I pursued education and training in Christian theology, biology, psychology, physics, philosophy, and Biblical studies, I did so with the assumption that each of these pursuits were legitimate sources of knowledge, which needed to be “read” against and in light of each other. In other words, my theology has always been engaged with the empirical realities of the physical world, and my scientific interests have always existed in theological context and within theologically-informed metaphysical frameworks.

This might sound like a nice, tidy academic biography, but as with most things in life – the reality is far messier and more complicated! Perhaps most significantly, my identity as a woman has been both a source of difficulty and conflict on one hand, and inspiration and opportunity on the other. When I was a young girl lying awake at night and wondering whether those intense spiritual longings had been put there by a loving God, the question of gender never crossed my mind. My philosophical, theological, and scientific questions were (and are!) fundamental to my sense of being human. It came as quite a surprise, then, to learn that my femaleness could be problematic for my pursuit of both theological and scientific knowledge. As a young girl growing up in an extremely conservative evangelical church and community, women were given little freedom to lead or pursue difficult and theologically challenging questions. Similarly, I quickly learned that my scientific questions were unwelcome within my church context, and the pursuit of empirical knowledge of Creation was often seen as detrimental to the spiritual quest. At the very least, I saw no women in positions of leadership (theological or otherwise); and if it is true that “you can be what you can see,” then this alone was certainly troubling. And after my mother tragically died when I was 16, I felt a complete disconnect from women role models more generally. Additionally, though, I also received implicit and explicit messages that not only was it wrong for me to be in positions of theological influence, but it was irrelevant to pursue training in divinity. This, added to my community’s visceral reaction against the sciences, made my academic path in theology & science a lonely one indeed.

But, of course, there is more to this all-too-common story. While I have certainly experienced relational and structural challenges on my academic journey, I have also experienced my femaleness as deeply generative for my theological creativity. In a field where women are so grossly underrepresented, I find that my perspectives and experiences bring something truly different to the theological table, and afford me certain insights or modes of questioning that might have been unavailable to me if I my path had not been so coloured by my gender. While being female did not necessarily affect or lead to my decision to pursue theology & science, it has certainly affected how I operate, exist, and push up against boundaries within that field.

Specifically, my personal and academic journeys have both consisted of a constant and intentional pursuit of integration. The ecclesial and theological settings in which I have participated have often felt unnatural to me, and integrating my mind, personality, and gender into these settings has required conscious engagement. Similarly, my research is inherently interdisciplinary: I seek to integrate work in neurobiology and cognitive science within theological contexts, in an effort to address specific questions about human flourishing and experience of God. For example, I am fascinated by the theological question of belief, and the Christian emphasis on experiencing a relationship with God that is rich, vibrant, and transformative. For me, this is a question that requires to be addressed not only with theological tools, but by interdisciplinary engagement with empirical research on the neurobiology of religious experience, the cognitive science of religious belief, and also with various insights from evolutionary psychology. Through such interdisciplinary engagement, it becomes possible to ask further science-engaged theological questions, such as: “Given what we know about how the brain works, and how the embodied human person experiences God, how might humans become active participants in the development of their own religious beliefs and experiences?” The answer to such a question must necessarily integrate not only scientific research and philosophical frameworks, but also the lived experiences of real people. It is this sort of integrative process that marks not only my work in theology & science, but my identity as a woman in theology as well. And it is this sort of holistic, integrated theological engagement that I see at work in the Logia initiative and the Logos Institute. The women and men involved with these projects are indeed paving the way for a new generation of scholars, creating a theological culture that truly embodies the reality that “You can be what you can see.” For that, I am thankful.

Sarah Lane Ritchie has recently been appointed Lecturer in Theology & Science at New College, University of Edinburgh. She has been a Research Fellow in Theology & Science at St Mary’s, working on the Science-Engaged Theology initiative. Her PhD is in Science & Religion and was completed at the University of Edinburgh, titled With God in Mind: Divine Action and the Naturalisation of Consciousness. Sarah also holds an MSc in Science & Religion from the University of Edinburgh, an MDiv from Princeton Theological Seminary, and a BA in Philosophy & Religion from Spring Arbor University. Current research interests centre on the intersection of neuroscience, theology, and philosophy of mind.

by Karen McClain Kiefer

Each month Blogos features an article created in partnership with the Logos Institute’s Logia initiative. This month’s Logia post is by Karen McClain Kiefer. More information about Logia and additional articles are available here.

More than anything, a call to living a more meaningful life influenced my decision to make a transition from my previous corporate and consulting careers.  But if asked to identify a particular inspiration that prompted me to turn toward theology and biblical studies and ultimately pursue a postgraduate divinity degree, I have one definitive response: Mary of Bethany and her extravagant anointing act from the Gospel of John (12:1-7).

This one woman and her gesture innocuously blew open the door to a new world for me.  Like most church-going Christians, I had heard this anointing passage dozens of times.  But then I read a reflection on it by a pastor I knew in Sedona, Arizona, who was also my first guide to the Holy Land in 2008.  I still have the book –  John’s Rabbi by Paul Wallace.  I read the familiar passage, in which Jesus visited the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha, and Mary poured precious perfumed nard on Jesus’ feet, wiped them with her hair and the fragrance of the nard filled the house.  As I was imagining the scent wafting up through the home, I read a stunning comment further connecting this anointing event with Jesus’ imminent final entry to Jerusalem where he would be crucified six days later.  The proximity of these two events prompted a ponderance by Wallace that, because of the purpose of nard for burial, the fragrance, powerful enough to fill a house, might have lingered throughout the rest of that week – on Jesus. . . all the way to Golgotha.  This notion left my mouth gaping and forever changed the way I thought of Mary and her anointing act.  I realized then that the fragrance might also have lingered on her, inimitably linking the two of them during his triumphal entry and passion.  The image of the two being connected by the fragrance from her extravagant gesture has never left me and, like the perfume, has wafted into my thoughts, imagination, study and conversations, as well as into other areas of interest.

It awakened a part of me that longed to journey with Jesus during his ministry and his passion – at least through those I could relate to in the Gospel narratives.  I needed to encounter Jesus through a woman’s lens.  But I had not been exposed to many, other than the figure of Mary Magdalene who will seemingly forever be unjustly mired in a prostitute’s web woven by a sixth-century pope.^[1]  And so I kept reading – this narrative and others – seeking to know more about the women in the Gospels who encountered Jesus.  And while I realized the richness awaiting anyone wishing to dive into these texts, I also began to discover a prevailing, underlying, unnerving theology of women in their portrayal in some church teachings and preachings, which I would later call a ‘theology of the harlot’.

I was encouraged by Jesus’ encounter with women but disappointed in the ways they have been portrayed or ignored throughout history.  I fell in love with Jesus’ response (also in the Johannine anointing narrative) to the man (Judas) who chastised Mary for her ‘wasteful’ act.  “Leave her alone,” Jesus said.  He acclaimed her act and stood up for her to a man in authority.  Oh, how I had longed to hear that admonition in my own defense as I had navigated leadership roles in an androcentric corporate and ecclesial world – one in which many of my ideas were only recognized when proclaimed  by a man well after I had first suggested them.  But Jesus not only recognized what Mary was doing and intimating through her gesture, he acclaimed her for it, announced it to all present, and defended her from attack.

My inroads with Mary of Bethany and my encounter with other biblical narratives gave me reassurance that I very much had a role to play in the church – a role to give women in these narratives a voice, to liberate their stories, and in so doing perhaps liberate the voices of women in the current church.  This was the focus of my master’s degree.  I enrolled as an enthusiastic Johannine student, and emerged as a reluctant feminist theologian.

As a Roman Catholic, I had few female role models in positions of leadership, other than medieval saints who lived lives very different than mine, and Mother Teresa, with whose Missionaries of Charity I was already working.  I had been normalized to this sometimes female-unfriendly culture in many ways.  However, one day near the end of my master’s program, I was confronted with why it was important for me to continue as I crossed the threshold of the sacristy before Mass.  I was the lector and was going to retrieve the lectionary from its usual place.  At this Mass a new organ made by local monks was going to be blessed by the bishop and they were all gathered in the sacristy – all male, even the altar servers.  As I crossed the threshold, I was met with stares from 8 males whose conversation ended abruptly as I entered.  I stopped, startled at the sight.  The bishop, a kind and good man, said, ‘You must be the lector.’  Without thinking or missing a beat, I said, ‘I must be.’  The pastor pointed toward the doorway I had just entered through, and said, ‘Everything is already set up,’ which I knew really meant, ‘You do not belong here.’  But I knew that I did.  And so I persisted.  I left the sacristy but pursued further study.

That study has led me here to the Institute for Theology, Imagination and the Arts at the University of St Andrews where I am researching theological, cosmological and theatrical notions of empty space.  As a ‘mature’ postgraduate student, I have quite a bit of lived experience, some which has taken me to the brink of utter desperation at times and to my knees, or lower, frequently.  Through many difficult transitions in my life I have come know a profound emptiness that we humans naturally resist.  Mystics like John of the Cross and Thérèse of Lisieux encourage us to enter into it, into the depths where that abyss meets the deep abyss of God’s love and mercy.  Encountering that love and mercy has also helped me find meaning that first prompted my call to theological and biblical study… and first introduced me to a woman named Mary.

Karen McClain Kiefer is a PhD student in the Institute for Theology, Imagination and the Arts studying theological, cosmological and theatrical notions of empty space.

[1] The first documented account of Mary Magdalene being considered a prostitute is from a sermon in 591 (Sermon 33) by Pope Gregory I (Gregory the Great) in which he stated that the unnamed repentant sinner in Luke 7 who anointed Jesus’ feet was Mary Magdalene, and that the ointment had previously been used by her “to perfume her flesh in forbidden acts” (“Liquet…quod illicitus actibus prius mulier intenta unguentum sibi pro odore suæ carnis adhibuit”).

by Tamara J. Knudson

Each month Blogos features an article created in partnership with the Logos Institute’s Logia initiative. This month’s Logia post is by Tamara J. Knudson. More information about Logia and additional articles are available here.

Ever since the early days of my undergraduate career, I have had a passion for studying the Hebrew Bible. My husband and I share this passion, and we met as two eager sophomores in an entry level Hebrew class and built a firm friendship in the hours spent pouring over charts and translations in the years that followed. Nerdy—it’s true. But as our love for the rich and complex Hebrew language grew, so did our fascination with the intricate and beautiful literature of the Hebrew Bible, and, coincidentally, our love for one another. By the time we were married, we had both become concerned with what seemed to be a prevailing lack of robust teaching on the Old Testament, particularly in ecclesial settings, where these texts were frequently ignored or handled out of their literary context. We were inspired by teachers such as Karl Kutz, Rebekah Josberger, Ray Lubeck and Tim Mackie, who brought the texts of the Hebrew Bible to life for audiences in both academic and church settings, and we hoped to do the same together someday.

A PhD had long been one of Ethan’s goals, but I had never imagined pursuing an academic career this far. Even when we moved to St Andrews for our master’s degrees, it didn’t cross my mind to research PhD programs; I had always looked forward to being a mother and assumed that bearing and raising children and completing a doctoral degree were two mutually exclusive aims. It wasn’t until I encountered mothers here in St Andrews who are also outstanding doctoral students or faculty members that this imaginary boundary was lifted; as the Logia motto states: “You can be what you can see.” Certainly, in my own experience, interacting with women who excel in both their academic and maternal roles changed the parameters by which I envisioned my future and its possibilities. Once my perspective was no longer hampered by these limitations, I realized how excited I was by the prospect of pursuing a PhD in Hebrew Bible, and I haven’t looked back since.

Inspired by the work of biblical scholars such as Meir Sternberg, Robert Alter, Adele Berlin and Shimon Bar-Efrat, my research focuses on the poetics of biblical narrative as an avenue by which to discern meaning in the text. With this approach, the literary structure and nuance of a narrative (such as plot development, repeated words, characterization, and setting) are all taken into consideration in elucidating the overall import of a textual work. Beginning with this methodology, I have chosen to focus primarily on narratives in the Hebrew Bible involving prominent female characters. The troubled role of women in the Hebrew Bible has long been the subject of critical debate amongst scholars and continues to be an important issue for the Church today. Indeed, the agency and dignity (or lack thereof) afforded to female characters throughout the text of the Hebrew Bible bears much significance for its readers, both male and female, and particularly for those whose belief system is founded on these texts.

Four biblical narratives serve as the focal points for my research: the book of Ruth, 1 Samuel 25 (David and Abigail), Judges 11 (Jephthah and his daughter), and 2 Samuel 1 and 2 (Hannah). Each of these stories allows for a close examination of female characters within a rich literary context, rife with poetic significance. For example, each narrative bears a common feature: a binding statement, or—more specifically—an oath or vow. On closer examination, it becomes apparent that these emphatic statements fulfill multiple literary ends, such as increasing plot tension and enhancing characterization, thereby shedding helpful light in my analysis of female characters and their roles. With poetic analyses such as these, I hope to provide a cogent literary reading of each of these narratives and the female characters they employ. Overall, I am immensely thankful for the opportunity to study here in St Andrews and for relationships with colleagues and faculty alike, which have spurred me on to greater heights in my own academic career.

Tamara J. Knudson is a PhD candidate in Biblical Studies at the University of St Andrews.

by Amy Peeler

Each month Blogos features an article created in partnership with the Logos Institute’s Logia initiative. This month’s Logia post is by Prof. Amy Peeler. More information about Logia and additional articles are available here.

I was captured by the complexity and beauty of Biblical Studies as a junior in college. I had taken Old and New Testament Introduction classes, and enjoyed them, but it was the more in-depth classes, Life of Christ and Beginner’s Greek, that arrested my attention. One can study the Bible in its original language as an academic pursuit? I could not imagine anything better. Truly it was in the first week of these classes that I had made my decision to make this my major.

Almost immediately, a concern arose in my mind: How can I as a woman study the Bible and then teach it to men, even to college-age men? Did that not conflict with passages that prohibited women from teaching? I initially spoke with a friend, a passionate and talented male senior student. “How would you feel about having a woman teach you the Bible?” (We had no female faculty, so this was only a hypothetical.) He thought about it for a moment and concluded that if the woman was faithfully learning and faithfully teaching, he would not find it threatening. I appreciated his openness, for that encouraged me to continue to ask the question to my own satisfaction. My New Testament professor allowed me to write my Hermeneutics paper that next semester on 1 Timothy 2. Instead of giving me some preformed answer, he, with great patience, allowed me to make the discoveries on my own. I wrestled with that text, as Jacob wrestled with the angel, and would not let it go until I understood it and submitted myself to its authority. My first discovery was that the educational difference between women then and women in my own time was a striking (and game-changing) difference. Those women in Ephesus were not prepared, so how could they teach? I, however, was being afforded the opportunity to study God’s word with all the same resources given to my male colleagues. Context mattered, and a different context meant a different result. I still had a thousand more questions, some I didn’t even know I could ask at that point: what about marriage, what about leadership, what about ministry? But as a 20-year-old young woman, after experiencing exegesis for the first time, arrived at a confidence and peace that God allowed women to learn and to teach the Word.

I have since danced with that text a thousand times, and asked more questions, seen more facets, arrived at more answers, but that first realization has never changed. God can and does call women to the vocation of teaching the Scriptures.

Currently, my favorite thing to teach is the Scriptural theme of kinship. In my PhD work, I focused on Hebrews, a complex, beautiful, and powerful document in the New Testament. In a class on ancient rhetoric, I learned the importance of developing one’s character or ethos through speech, and it struck me that the author of the letter to the Hebrews, whomever that may be, has God do a great deal of speaking (the Scriptures of Israel) and in so doing portrays the character of God. I argued that God’s paternal character, as presented in God’s first speech in the letter, shaped the author’s argument in vital ways. The same is true of much of the New Testament. What these authors say about God as Father, Jesus as Son, and the relationship between them in the Holy Spirit, as well as the story of salvation through a human mother, and Christian identity as daughters and sons offers fresh and exciting insights into these texts. I have already discovered that my role as a daughter and mother have provided helpful perspective into this analysis. My hope is that this project will offer new insight for all readers, for everyone comes from a family and all are invited into the family of God.

Amy Peeler is an Associate Professor of New Testament at Wheaton College, former Research Fellow with the Logos Institute, and Associate Rector at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Geneva, IL. Her primary research centers in the Epistle to the Hebrews, which has prompted her to explore ancient rhetoric, the use of the Old Testament in the New, Israel’s sacrificial system, atonement, family & inheritance in the Ancient World, and theological language. 

Check out our newly produced video capturing the vision of Logia.

Logia hopes to increase the visibility of women in the Academy and the Church so that women’s voices may be more valued in these contexts. Thus, supporting women pursuing post-graduate divinity education is a means to Logia’s primary end: to encourage women’s full participation in the Academy and Church according to each woman’s convictions and conscience. Furthermore, we welcome scholars engaging in concerns related to women’s roles across any religious or non-religious perspective.

Christa L. McKirland is a Ph.D. candidate in the Logos Institute for Analytic and Exegetical Theology and the Director of Logia. Her research is focusing on the concept of fundamental human need as an untapped resource for understanding theological anthropology.

Introducing Logia by Christa McKirland

For those following the Logos Institute blog, you will also see the Logia monthly post featured on this platform. As the Director of Logia, I am introducing Logia and setting the tone for what our posts will look like this coming semester.

Recently, I had a strong and unexpected emotional experience while walking down a toy aisle in a large department store. We were in the superhero section—the place I would always run to first when I was a little girl—and instead of only finding Batman, Superman, and Ironman, I saw the costumes for Wonder Woman and Rey. I was first struck with sadness as I reflected on my childhood of longing for strong women role models and how anomalous I felt as I wanted to be a commander, a visionary, and a leader. And yet, equally as powerful, came the opposite feeling of joy as I looked down at my two-year-old daughter and knew that she would have those role models herself.

While theologians and biblical studies scholars don’t wear capes or have special powers, they are still influencers of culture. Acting on this, the Logos Institute was founded to be a constructive voice of influence by bringing several divinity disciplines together into one conversation. However, as Logos sought to include scholars from biblical studies, theology, and philosophy, there was a glaring lack of women. Such scarcity was further highlighted by the smaller number of women applicants for the Logos Institute, and divinity in general, resulting in fewer women than men in the M.Litt., M.Phil., and Ph.D. programs. The reasons for this are many, but one of the most obvious contributors is that it’s difficult to be what you can’t see—and, historically, women have not often reached the upper echelons (or even the lower echelons) of these disciplines. The result is not only an impoverished academy, but also an impoverished Church. The founders of Logos and I began to ask how we might address this dearth of women in the divinity disciplines. We started to talk about how we might endeavor to turn things around, to establish a better balance between women and men in both the academy and the Church. The answer was Logia—an intentional initiative spotlighting women already in these disciplines, helping this next generation to see what they can be.

Since our context is the University of St Andrews, the most logical place to begin to address this has been at St Mary’s School of Divinity. The hope is that many of the ideas we implement here will be transferable to other contexts. From informal mentorship to specialized workshops, to inviting women to present their research, the opportunities to increase their visibility and implicitly recognize the value of women are many. However, not all contexts are as supportive of women as St Mary’s. We are fortunate to have the backing of the School and to have stellar women in both biblical studies and theology. While there is still room for growth here, the ground is fertile for this project to flourish and grow beyond St Andrews.

One of the ways such growth can happen will be through this blog. By sharing more narratives of women who have pursued and are pursuing postgraduate degrees in divinity, we can continue to model the possibilities for others. Just recently, the University published an e-book chronicling the academic journeys of over forty women who are professors here.

The diversity of ways in which women have taken these career paths is encouraging to see and provides a clear source of inspiration for other female scholars. For this semester, the women who contribute to Logia’s blog channel will be asked if and how being a woman has affected their decision to pursue post-graduate divinity education, as well as being asked to provide a brief entrée into their own research.

Beyond the blog, Logia has many aims. The future hopes of this initiative include: addressing the “leak” which seems to occur between undergraduate divinity enrollment and postgraduate divinity enrollment for women; consulting for the benefit of institutions, organizations, and individuals about strategies for improving the environment for women in their specific contexts; engaging with women of color who have additional barriers to their scholarly success; working with publishers to help produce more theological resources written by women; organizing “academy meets the church” conferences to support women in the local community; hosting educational workshops to encourage women and men to collaborate in bringing about meaningful change; having a presence at major theological and biblical studies conferences to help women network with one another and with men who want to encourage this effort; and learning from and equipping women in the majority world to pursue postgraduate divinity degrees. These ideas are only the tip of the iceberg and, as progress is made, other avenues for development will be pursued, allowing this initiative to continue to evolve.

Logia’s motto: You can be what you can see is also an invitation to be what you want to see. We hope you will walk with us as this initiative takes root and that you too will be a part of this change as it begins and as it continues.

Christa L. McKirland is a Ph.D. candidate in the Logos Institute for Analytic and Exegetical Theology and the Director of Logia. Her research is focusing on the concept of fundamental human need as an untapped resource for understanding theological anthropology.