This may not seem purely intellectual, as it is also a very practical reflection. It is on fame, fortune, and success. How do we define it? As Christians, what role, if any, should these play in our lives? What do they mean to me?

Honestly, to be very direct, I believe fame has no role in the life of a Christian. Christians ought not to strive for fame--it simply does not fit into the Gospel message. I came to terms with this as I was considering grad schools, and as they were considering me. Long before I got the decision letters, I had already chosen not to apply to certain schools. More specifically, there were several top-quality, very selective schools that I sought not to pursue. Why? Because the only motivating factor in applying to those schools was the notoriety that could come from it. Then, I realized some things. I do not need to teach at Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Emory, or the University of Chicago. I do not need everyone to know my name. While there is something inherently thrilling and edifying about people knowing who I am and being a top scholar in my field, ultimately, it means nothing. My hope, as a scholar, is that my ideas will be taken seriously by those who read them and that somehow the work I do is liberating--helping to free people from oppression and to free people from being oppressive. Nothing more. Nothing less.

There is an old hymn that says, "Little is much when God is in it. Labor not for wealth and fame. There's a crown, and you can win it. When you go in Jesus' name." Although I am not sure about this crown-thing we are trying to win, it does resonate the point that we are not called to work toward wealth and fame. We are called to take up our cross. We are called to give everything we have to the poor. We are called to deny ourselves. We are called to be servants of Christ, the Gospel, and the world. Considering this paradigm into which we are called, there is simply no room for wealth and fame within the lives of Christians. To seek fame is to seek to promote one's self above promoting the Gospel and Christ. If you think about it, Christ was kind of an incognito kind of guy. He tried to hide the fact, in some sense, that he was the Messiah. He lived among the poor and the outcasts. He was ultimately recognized through death on the cross, not a celebratory banquet.

Of course, this makes me think about our lives and our careers. I am not saying that we should have no money whatsoever. Yet, recently Brad and I have been talking about what life will be like when we are a two-income home. We are committed to not raising our level of spending to match our earnings. We are committed to still being faitful stewards of our money, saving where we can, and not being frivilous. We also talk about the ways in which our careers could play into the notion of oppression. My husband's father works for the military divison of a major aircraft manufacturer. By virtue of this, his work supports the acts of the military and the injustice of war. Don't get me wrong--I love my father-in-law. I am not being condemning toward him. Largely, the difference lies in the values we hold dear. I am not calling my father-in-law a war monger or lover of injustice. Rather, he likely would not identify himself as a pacifist or anti-war. Therefore, his job does not negate his values. Yet, we have to ask ourselves what is the bigger picture of which I am a part? (This is NOT about my father-in-law...he just came up in the course of conversation.) How do my jobs, my hobbies, my interests, and my lifestyle fit into the chain of injustice and oppression of those around the world?

In a capitalistic society, it is so easy to see something merely as a job--something to pay the bills and to make money. Yet, nothing is ever that simple. Brad and I talked about what if the firm he works for in the future asks him to work on a project directly supporting a cause that he is against? As we talked about explaining that you cannot go against your convictions, he said, "What if I get fired?" My response was, "Well, then you find another job, but know that you did the right thing." Often, to move up in certain companies, you have to do things that might not jive with your ethical system. While some people think you have to play the game to get the money, I disagree. We aren't called to be the CEO. We aren't called to be a millionare. In fact, if you are have power or wealth that you aren't using for others, then you are violating the covenant and life into which God has called us.

Recently, in class, we were talking about the concept of Ivory Towers--the positions of power in the world. Someone said, "It's not that you find yourself at the desk. Rather, it's what you do and for whom you do it that matters." This isn't some lame copout to say, "Well, I can push my way to the top and I'll do nice things for people so that makes it okay." Instead, it's recognizing that often we find ourselves in positions of power, by virtue of corporate position, gender, race, nationality, or geographical location. Sometimes we are called to abandon it all completely. Other times, we are called to use that condition to go against certain systems and communal values.

So, now that I am immersed in theological education, once again, full time, I have decided to start posting here again. A lot of questions are raised in my mind, so I am going to try to sort through them here. Feel free to join me on the journey. Below is a paper I submitted that addresses some of the questions that my most recent reading has brought to mind. Hopefully it is clear enough so that even if you have not read these particular pieces, you can at least understand the questions that push their way to the forefront and maybe join me in a dialogue of how we are to make sense of it all. So, here are my most-recent thoughts: (EDIT: This is showing up a bit funky on my screen. Why? I don't know. It might just be the resolution of the laptop, but forgive me for any unnecessary line breaks.)

The concept of suffering, according to William Placher, is central to
Christianity. Placher identifies Christianity as a religion rooted in
vulnerability, evidenced in the life of Christ, and as a religion that calls us
to be vulnerable and to suffer. Jon Sobrino also highlights the role of
suffering within Christianity, particularly in Christian theology.
Sobrino, focusing on “the sufferings of people who are being crucified,” asserts
that the role of theology is “to take these people down from the cross.”
Although both of these authors put the concept of suffering at the forefront of
their writing, they seem to be suggesting different things. Therefore,
this raises the question: To what extent do we “take up our cross” to be
“crucified with Christ,” and to what extent do we aim to end suffering?
Perhaps the call on one’s life when becoming a Christian is different depending
upon one’s social position. Am I—a white, middle-class, woman living in
the United States—called to step down from my position of privilege in the world
and suffer among the suffering? It is scripturally evident that the
systems we live in are turned upside down by Christ, as it states “The last
shall be first and the first shall be last.” Therefore, the call to
suffer—to come and be crucified—is to those who, previously, have done the
crucifying. I am called to suffer, and in turn, to live among the
suffering. Yet, how do I enter into a life of suffering? Jürgen
Moltmann speaks of “suffering God,” as God hides God’s face from us and forsakes
us as Christ was forsaken on the cross. However, how does this speak to
those who have already suffered? Does it only speak to those who, directly
or indirectly, have caused others to suffer? Trying to make sense of this, my
tentative conclusion is that any power my social location gives me is not my
own; it is not to promote myself. Instead, any power I possess due to my
race, wealth, or geographical location is used on my neighbor—to touch the
suffering and free them from the elements that cause them to suffer.

Just as the idea of suffering appears to take on different meanings
depending on one’s social location, the response to plurality and difference
also elicits different responses. For example, María Pilar Aquino
recognizes the role of Latina women in feminist theology, but she does not
advocate branching off by identifying oneself as a mujerista. She
advocates the intensified impact feminist theologians of all backgrounds can
have when they stay within the broader, diverse category of feminist theology.
Under this one umbrella of feminist theology, there are many voices and a
variety of experiences. Yet, ultimately, they are all speaking toward one
goal. In contrast to Aquino, Peter C. Phan seems to emphasize the idea of
difference within liberation theology. He goes as far as not suggesting a
single theology of liberation, which brings freedom to all people, but instead,
he refers to liberation theologies. Phan notes black theology, white
feminist theology, mujerista theology, and queer theology. He identifies
them all as theologies of liberation, but he seems to preserve their
distinctiveness rather than their commonalities. Therefore, questions
emerge. To what extent do we work within a larger group for greater
effectiveness? To what extent do we preserve the factors that make us
different from others by setting ourselves apart from a group and to what extent
do we merge them with others’ differences? The dilemma lies in the
importance of acknowledging one’s self—one’s race, gender, sexual orientation—in
theology, versus isolating one’s self from other groups who are working toward
the similar goal of inclusion and liberation.

The aforementioned issues are intricately woven together as we engage in
theology. How a woman, a Latina, or a gay or lesbian does theology in one
location might look differently than a woman, Latina, or gay or lesbian in
another location. The role of suffering within my own life, might,
therefore, be different than the role of suffering in the life of a woman living
in Middle Eastern culture. It appears that we approach theological
discourse with a goal in mind—the goal of promoting love, liberation, and
justice. However, the methodologies and strategies in achieving this goal
are dependent upon our social location—where we are and when we are there.

Feel free to give me some insight.