Theology is Creative Writing

Religion has two faces: a public and a private.

Private experiences are just that: experienced. A person knows he or she has had the experience, no debate. We can certainly debate the interpretation of the experience: Was it really an angel; was it really Jesus; was it really an alien abduction. Mystics, however, have long claimed that their experiences are not expressible in words. That is the private face of religious experience.

It may be irritating for theologians to dwell upon, but the zaniest self-help book, based as it is in recommending doing something that feels some way, is downright scientific compared to theology.

The public face of religion is all about words, or, if you prefer, all about symbols, of which words are one subset, and pictures, statues, and incense others. The hidebound tomes that heap up around religions are also symbol sets. Word sets. And they are creative writing.

Where, after all, is their basis? Other books. Mentors. The tradition.

But wait! Isn’t tradition based in experience? Somewhat. Just as novels do not spring full-blown from abstraction. But that’s my point: a book of theology is very much like a novel.

I have written novels. And I have tried my hand at theology. What I have come to believe is that theology may best be written as poems are written—much closer to experience.