From the Editor's Desk
Myths have been on my mind lately. Actually, myths are regularly on my mind, because they enter into courses I teach, and this carries over into how I think about cultures and current events. The term myth is used for stories, metanarratives, belief systems, or interpretations of history. We humans live by myths. They enable us to subsume our lives into meanings greater than ourselves, meanings that signify some kind of heroic apotheosis, some kind of salvation.
Not all myths are created equal. Some are creative and enhance life and full personhood; others are oppressive and destructive. We are born into myths, usually a multiplicity of myths. Myths can be cultural, religious, even antireligious. In the United States, we are familiar with such secular/religious myths as Manifest Destiny, “Westward ho!” “a city on a hill,” a chosen people, a divinely blessed land of unlimited resources, and consumerism—all singly or corporately designed to give adherents a sense of heroism, star-power, or salvation.
Myths are fundamental components of belief systems, whether religious or secular. They comprise anyone (e.g., priests, angels, Hollywood/TV/sports stars) or any practice within the belief systems that gives adherents a sense of transcendent fullness of life.
Some myths might be invented during our lifetimes, but most come to us ready-made. We are thrust into them. And because we grow up within myths, they can become part of our psyches without our becoming aware of them: they are what make us Catholic, or Lutheran, or Jewish, or Muslim, or American, or French, or Iraqi. My teaching experience tells me that most people grow up without becoming self-reflective and critical about the myths by which they live. Indeed, people often resist—sometimes violently so—reflective criticism of their myths. Unawareness can lead to a comfortable, untroubled life, depending on how one’s dominant myths jibe with those endorsed by the dominant culture. For example, those who live by the myths of Al Qaeda will likely find their myths conflicting with those of the dominant secular and religious cultures, thus leading adherents to an alienated existence.
It may seem shocking to many believers to say that Christians live by the myth of Jesus Christ, the incarnate Word of God, who inaugurated the reign of God open to all—sinners and social outcasts as well as the religiously observant—because of which he was betrayed, arrested, tried, and crucified, but rose again and now reigns eternally at the right hand of the Father. But theologically literate Christians who think in such terms hold that the Christian myth is not, as they say, “just a myth,” but the story of the deepest truth of God’s creative and saving action in history, realized in Jesus of Nazareth and continuing in the power of his Spirit throughout time and space. Told in different ways from the very beginning, it has assumed a grand, mythic structure and scope and Christians interpret their lives and reflect on the meaning of historical events in the light of it. But the reverse is also true. Sometimes, as once for two disciples on the road to Emmaus, historical events and the unpredictable action of the Spirit force us to become more self-reflective and critical of how we have understood—or failed to understand—the story.
Articles published in this journal are always more or less self-conscious efforts to bring historical experience and critical reflection into the Christian myth, that is, to explain what difference that belief in the mysteries of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection makes relative to the articles’ subject matter. Occasionally, however, an article appears that primarily and self-consciously trains this method onto a major historical event and seeks to explain how the lived Christian myth entered into and critically affected, or even effected, that historical event. Such an article appears in this issue of Theological Studies—Christina Astorga’s on the Filipino People Power Revolution of 1986. Astorga reflects theologically on that event to show how religiously inspired civil disobedience ended a cruel dictatorship and inaugurated an era of representative government without a single shot being fired. As such, this article exemplifies how theologians can self-consciously theologize about the immanent and transcendent power of the Christian myth to work in and through historical events to foster what the Creator God desires for all humanity: liberation from sin, oppression, and death. Other articles might less explicitly engage in this kind of theological reflection, but all more or less do so.
A point that Astorga makes in passing is that there is ongoing need gracefully and respectfully to criticize and purify the myths by which Christians live, because unhealthy accretions can easily turn myths into superstitions. Vatican II can be seen as an inspired effort toward repristination of the Christian myth as embodied in church structures.
In the same vein, sometimes this journal receives articles that contribute to an ongoing discussion or debate about church structures or about the nature of the human person, Christian freedom, and behavior consonant with it. Such articles tend to find place in the journal’s section called “Quaestiones Disputatae,” a category that Thomas Aquinas made standard fare in the church’s philosophical and theological tradition. Two such articles appear in this issue—Todd Salzman and Michael Lawler’s and Patrick Byrne’s. Their appearance affords me the opportunity to remind our readers of a consistent editorial policy that holds for all our articles, not just those on disputed questions: publication of an article does not necessarily imply editorial agreement with the article; it implies merely that the article was judged theologically important and of a high enough scholarly standard to warrant inclusion in our pages. Responsibility for the content of articles in Theological Studies rests solely with their authors. The editors, board of directors, and editorial consultants invite scholarly responses that contribute constructively to the church’s self-critical reflection.
David G. Schultenover, S.J.
Editor in Chief