Chris E. W. Green - 25 Sept

It is exceedingly difficult to write an adequate introduction or companion to a theologians work. This is perhaps especially true in cases where the theologian has written as much as Robert Jenson has written, and when their thought is as demanding and unusual as his certainly, and perhaps notoriously, is. Some would argue that writing about anothers work is also inevitably complicatedif not compromised from the beginningby either intense dislike for or intense devotion to it. All to say, it is virtually impossible to represent someones work fairly. So why try such a thing?

In the first place, there is no better way to honor a theologians contribution than by offering a critical and appreciative interpretation of it. I certainly mean to do just that: I owe a debt to Robert Jenson and his theology, and this book is one way of acknowledging that debt. Writing an introduction or companion to anothers work also provides readers who happen to be interested in Jenson the opportunity to gain new perspective on or insight into his work. Anyway, I know that I have learned from others readings of Jensonincluding those readings I find incredible and appalling, as well as those I find persuasive and enchanting.

On that note, I have to say that I find much of the criticism of Jensons work not only unfortunate but even unwarranted. It is something like criticizing the Brooklyn Bridge for not being in London or Saint Pauls Cathedral for not being built over water. Of course, it goes without saying that I do find serious problems with some of Jensons theological claims and maneuvers. But in this book I am trying to describe his work as charitably and faithfully as I can so that it appears in its own best light and as a gift to the church. It may very well be, as Jenson has said, that every theologians system is destined to be dismembered piece by piece and used up in ongoing debates. However, this is my attempt to envision the system as a whole and to recommend it as a beautiful, glorious word about the God we adore and the gospel we have been entrusted with. I have, as I said, a debt to him. If I can draw some others into the same indebtedness, then I will be doubly pleased.

Writing about a theology is inseparably bound up with what happens to you when you are reading it. What did the reading do to you? How did it wound? How did it heal? How did it bother? How did it enthuse? How did it confound? How did it illuminate? Thes e are the things that move one to write. What is more, writing a book like this one is perhaps the best way to learn truly how a theology works, how it hangs together as a whole. Readers of Jenson already know that he himself did it with Karl Barth and Jonathan Edwards; so, on this score I am merely imitating him.

I would not have been able to begin this project, much less complete it, without the constant encouragement of my wife, Julie, and feedback from friendsin particular, Steve Wright and Fr. Al Kimel. While on sabbatical, I met weekly with a group of students, colleagues, and friends for an informal seminar on Jensons theology. I am deeply indebted to them as well, for their remarks on and proofreading of early drafts of these chapters. In no particular order, then, thanks to Zach Bennett, Justin Arnwine, Fr. Kenneth Tanner, Silas and Abby Sham, Christopher Wayne Brewer, and Danielle Larson. This work is dedicated to you.