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A Peculiar Orthodoxy: Reflections on Theology and the Arts
World-renowned theologian Jeremy Begbie has been at the forefront of teaching and writing on theology and the arts for more than twenty years. Amid current debates and discussions on the topic, Begbie emphasizes the role of a biblically grounded creedal orthodoxy as he shows how Christian theology and the arts can enrich each other. Throughout the book, Begbie demonstrates the power of classic trinitarian faith to bring illumination, surprise, and delight whenever it engages with the arts.
224 pages, Paperback
Published February 4, 2020
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About the author
Jeremy S. Begbie
20 books31 followersDr Jeremy Begbie is Thomas A. Langford Distinguished Research Professor of Theology at Duke Divinity School, Duke University, where he directs Duke Initiatives in Theology and the Arts. His primary research interest is the correlation between theology and the arts, in particular the interplay between music and theology. he is also an Affiliated Lecturer in the Faculty of Music at the University of Cambridge.
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October 9, 2018
What Jeremy Begbie offers in A Peculiar Orthodoxy might best be described as “music therapy for theologians” (146). Although there has been a “flourishing of activity at the interface of theology and the arts” over the past 30 years, Begbie still believes many of these conversations have settled for vague illusions to spirituality rather than discussing the doctrinally specific and accurate revelations that can come through the arts, especially music (which is his specialty) (v). However, Begbie shows how music can offer “fresh modes and models of thought” to those who have been overly dependent on verbal and visual models to make sense of theological concerns (147).
For example, he uses the idea of a musical chord (2 or more musical notes played simultaneously) as a helpful way of imagining how divine and human agency might work together. In a chord “two audibly distinct sounds can interpenetrate without diminishing each other” and this provides an “extraordinarily apt aural analogue of the Spirit’s work” in the poet or other creative artist (125). The interpenetration of the chord might offer a helpful metaphor for those looking to describe the interpenetration and unity of the Trinity. “If we are to think oneness and threeness together in a manner appropriate to the New Testament but at the same time in a way that is not attentive to the dangers of being overdetermined by visual thought patterning,” using musical concepts might allow for new understandings. Begbie argues that “strenuous attempts to maintain threeness typically result in some form of precarious equilibrium” as we try to visualize how three beings might occupy the same space. On the other extreme “repeated appeals to ‘mystery’ in this context sound decidedly thin and unsatisfying, especially when compared to the fulsome and dynamic interpenetrative interplay of Son and Father.” And “heavily ‘socialized’ (near tri-theistic) trinitarianism” leads to its own dangers. In each instance, Begbie sees how “conceptual frameworks that favor spatial visualization and its associated language have likely aggravated and…perhaps generated a range of problems that have repeatedly frustrated and distorted” theology. All the while, audible imagery could offer us greater theological clarity (160).
Over the past several years, I’ve been in search of books that celebrate art and orthodoxy at the same time, since most books on creativity tend to focus on only a vague spirituality. Begbie has noticed the same trend where people “run to the arts for refuge.” In contrast to the “overly secure, oversystematized, word-imprisoned Protestantism,” the arts seem to “promise…an allusiveness and openness that the discourses of doctrinal orthodoxy seem to disallow” (206). What Begbie models, however, is a celebration of all the ways that orthodoxy offers more than just a generic idea of a higher power when we approach the transcendent power of the arts. Instead, he offers piercing clarity through his insights into the arts. His thorough understanding of Bach allows him to see evidence the dynamic and specific saving work of Jesus Christ in Bach’s arrangements. While the arts do help us “avoid the linguistic imperialism that insists all meaningful activity be capable of reduction to declarative assertions,” he sees more in artistic expression than just rumors of transcendence (87); in his research into Bach, he has discovered that art can truly express “God’s graceful, reconciling action” in specific and orthodox ways (88).
To provide an example, Begbie celebrates how Bach’s music offers “consistency interlaced with directionality, unique interruptions that issue in fruitful subsequent change, an irreducible open-endedness that resists complete closure” which are “quite congruent with a vision of human history as being drawn toward a fulfillment by the God of Jesus Christ” (91-92). Unless readers are as familiar with Bach as Begbie, they will likely have to trust his insights. But anyone can admire his willingness to seek out specific, orthodox revelations in art. Although the arts rely on “allusiveness for much of their potency,” Begbie demonstrates how doctrine can enrich the arts and the arts can enrich doctrine. “Doctrine’s prime ministry to the artist is to direct our eyes and ears to that skandalon (of the gospel)…and the artist’s ministry to the doctrinal theologian is perhaps above all to remind him or her that no formal or technical language can ever encompass or contain its subject matter” (viii). His vision for a robust relationship between arts and doctrine should excite anyone who longs to see the gospel get the attention of our waiting world.
The only shame, both for other potential readers and for me, is that Begbie’s A Peculiar Orthodoxy is not more accessible to a non-academic audience. This book is a collection of essays written in response to other academic essays and for specific audiences. Thus, it presumes a level of familiarity with academic language in his discipline. No doubt it is a treasure for those in his discipline, but I look forward to reading some of his other recent works that were written for more casually interested readers on these subjects such as Redeeming Transcendence in the Arts and Resounding Truth.
Review originally appeared at Servants of Grace.
For example, he uses the idea of a musical chord (2 or more musical notes played simultaneously) as a helpful way of imagining how divine and human agency might work together. In a chord “two audibly distinct sounds can interpenetrate without diminishing each other” and this provides an “extraordinarily apt aural analogue of the Spirit’s work” in the poet or other creative artist (125). The interpenetration of the chord might offer a helpful metaphor for those looking to describe the interpenetration and unity of the Trinity. “If we are to think oneness and threeness together in a manner appropriate to the New Testament but at the same time in a way that is not attentive to the dangers of being overdetermined by visual thought patterning,” using musical concepts might allow for new understandings. Begbie argues that “strenuous attempts to maintain threeness typically result in some form of precarious equilibrium” as we try to visualize how three beings might occupy the same space. On the other extreme “repeated appeals to ‘mystery’ in this context sound decidedly thin and unsatisfying, especially when compared to the fulsome and dynamic interpenetrative interplay of Son and Father.” And “heavily ‘socialized’ (near tri-theistic) trinitarianism” leads to its own dangers. In each instance, Begbie sees how “conceptual frameworks that favor spatial visualization and its associated language have likely aggravated and…perhaps generated a range of problems that have repeatedly frustrated and distorted” theology. All the while, audible imagery could offer us greater theological clarity (160).
Over the past several years, I’ve been in search of books that celebrate art and orthodoxy at the same time, since most books on creativity tend to focus on only a vague spirituality. Begbie has noticed the same trend where people “run to the arts for refuge.” In contrast to the “overly secure, oversystematized, word-imprisoned Protestantism,” the arts seem to “promise…an allusiveness and openness that the discourses of doctrinal orthodoxy seem to disallow” (206). What Begbie models, however, is a celebration of all the ways that orthodoxy offers more than just a generic idea of a higher power when we approach the transcendent power of the arts. Instead, he offers piercing clarity through his insights into the arts. His thorough understanding of Bach allows him to see evidence the dynamic and specific saving work of Jesus Christ in Bach’s arrangements. While the arts do help us “avoid the linguistic imperialism that insists all meaningful activity be capable of reduction to declarative assertions,” he sees more in artistic expression than just rumors of transcendence (87); in his research into Bach, he has discovered that art can truly express “God’s graceful, reconciling action” in specific and orthodox ways (88).
To provide an example, Begbie celebrates how Bach’s music offers “consistency interlaced with directionality, unique interruptions that issue in fruitful subsequent change, an irreducible open-endedness that resists complete closure” which are “quite congruent with a vision of human history as being drawn toward a fulfillment by the God of Jesus Christ” (91-92). Unless readers are as familiar with Bach as Begbie, they will likely have to trust his insights. But anyone can admire his willingness to seek out specific, orthodox revelations in art. Although the arts rely on “allusiveness for much of their potency,” Begbie demonstrates how doctrine can enrich the arts and the arts can enrich doctrine. “Doctrine’s prime ministry to the artist is to direct our eyes and ears to that skandalon (of the gospel)…and the artist’s ministry to the doctrinal theologian is perhaps above all to remind him or her that no formal or technical language can ever encompass or contain its subject matter” (viii). His vision for a robust relationship between arts and doctrine should excite anyone who longs to see the gospel get the attention of our waiting world.
The only shame, both for other potential readers and for me, is that Begbie’s A Peculiar Orthodoxy is not more accessible to a non-academic audience. This book is a collection of essays written in response to other academic essays and for specific audiences. Thus, it presumes a level of familiarity with academic language in his discipline. No doubt it is a treasure for those in his discipline, but I look forward to reading some of his other recent works that were written for more casually interested readers on these subjects such as Redeeming Transcendence in the Arts and Resounding Truth.
Review originally appeared at Servants of Grace.
January 8, 2019
Summary: A collection of essays exploring the intersection of theology and the arts.
In recent years there has been an upsurge of conversation relating theology and the arts. One of the leading lights in this conversation is Jeremy S. Begbie, both a trained theologian, and gifted pianist. This work is a collection of essays given as academic presentations, and thus, the reader will encounter some overlap of ideas and themes, but also a rich appreciation of both art and orthodox theology.
Begbie begins with Bach and the subject of beauty. Beauty as one of the transcendentals is often related back to Platonic thought, but Begbie argues for an understanding of beauty in light of the Trinitarian God and then uses Bach's Goldberg Variations to explore how Bach's religious beliefs are evident in his music. A companion essay follows dealing with the resistance to an idea of beauty that often reduces to sentimentality, and doesn't deal with the existence of ugliness, evil, suffering and pain in life. Begbie argues that the Triduum of Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter reveals a perspective in which God enters into human suffering fully and works redemptively. This is a beauty that does not hide from or hide evil, but works restoratively.
A fascinating essay follows, "Faithful Feelings," that explores the connection between music and emotion and suggests that music may concentrate, indeed purify emotion. Likewise in worship, our emotional lives are concentrated and purifies in the worship of the Triune God, and that the use of music in worship ought to be shaped by a congruency between music, and the theological truth being expressed.
Both the fourth and seventh essays address music and natural theology using the work of David Brown who has written extensively on classical music and belief. Begbie would contend for the specificity of orthodoxy in these discussions rather than the more inclusive theism of Brown. Begbie argues that our thinking about the arts must be shaped by a trinitarian, indeed Christ-centered understanding.
Between these essays are two focused on particular works, one of music, one written. The musical work is Edward Elgar's Dream of Gerontius, in which Begbie explore the ambivalence in John Henry Newman's portrayal of purgatory in the words, carried over into the musical setting of these by Elgar--a movement between confidence and anxiety. This is followed by an analysis of George Herbert's poem, "Ephes. 4.30", and the link Herbert portrays here between the arts and the Holy Spirit.
Perhaps the essay I found most fascinating was the eighth, exploring the ideas of music, space, and freedom. He proposes that often we have difficulties with questions of the one and the many, or the intersection of divine and human freedom because of perceiving these in terms of either visual or material space. He observes that music opens up another way of conceiving of these in which multiple tones may occupy the same aural space simultaneously, with none being cancelled out, and if anything, producing a richer and more interesting sound than a single tone, whether harmonious or dissonant.
The collection concludes with Begbie's thoughts on the contribution of Reformed theology to the arts. His discussion of Reformed perspectives on "beauty" and "sacrament" help sharpen the creature, Creator distinction, and clarify the fuzziness with which these ideas are often thrown around in art and theology discussions. He addresses the Reformed commitment to the word as both significant in God's self-communication, and yet also complemented by other media that communicate realities for which words alone are inadequate.
Reflecting Begbie's musical training, the essays tend to focus more on musical than other forms of art. As a choral singer and lay theologian, I did not mind this. His thoughts about beauty and sentiment reminded me of singing the second movement of Bernstein's Chichester Psalms in which the pastoral beauty of Psalm 23 is juxtaposed with Psalm 2 and the dissonant raging of the nations against God. The evocative power of music and the alignment of music and words to express truth in worship was powerfully apparent when we performed Ola Gjeilo's Dark Night of the Soul that seems to capture the stillness of the soul facing the dark, and the wonder of the sheer grace of God that one finds in this setting of St. John of the Cross's meditation. There is the wonder (when it happens) of many voices singing different parts coming together as a single entity--where the singing of individuals didn't cancel out each other but create something more than our separate voices.
Begbie's essays made me reflect on these experiences and gave theological content to them. The essays are written at an academic level, for academic conferences, but reward careful reading with insight. This is a great service for artists, who seek not merely technical proficiency, but to write, or sing, or play, or dance, or act, or paint with an authenticity that reflects our deepest loves, and for the Christian, the connection of our work with the Creator's story.
___________________________
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own
In recent years there has been an upsurge of conversation relating theology and the arts. One of the leading lights in this conversation is Jeremy S. Begbie, both a trained theologian, and gifted pianist. This work is a collection of essays given as academic presentations, and thus, the reader will encounter some overlap of ideas and themes, but also a rich appreciation of both art and orthodox theology.
Begbie begins with Bach and the subject of beauty. Beauty as one of the transcendentals is often related back to Platonic thought, but Begbie argues for an understanding of beauty in light of the Trinitarian God and then uses Bach's Goldberg Variations to explore how Bach's religious beliefs are evident in his music. A companion essay follows dealing with the resistance to an idea of beauty that often reduces to sentimentality, and doesn't deal with the existence of ugliness, evil, suffering and pain in life. Begbie argues that the Triduum of Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter reveals a perspective in which God enters into human suffering fully and works redemptively. This is a beauty that does not hide from or hide evil, but works restoratively.
A fascinating essay follows, "Faithful Feelings," that explores the connection between music and emotion and suggests that music may concentrate, indeed purify emotion. Likewise in worship, our emotional lives are concentrated and purifies in the worship of the Triune God, and that the use of music in worship ought to be shaped by a congruency between music, and the theological truth being expressed.
Both the fourth and seventh essays address music and natural theology using the work of David Brown who has written extensively on classical music and belief. Begbie would contend for the specificity of orthodoxy in these discussions rather than the more inclusive theism of Brown. Begbie argues that our thinking about the arts must be shaped by a trinitarian, indeed Christ-centered understanding.
Between these essays are two focused on particular works, one of music, one written. The musical work is Edward Elgar's Dream of Gerontius, in which Begbie explore the ambivalence in John Henry Newman's portrayal of purgatory in the words, carried over into the musical setting of these by Elgar--a movement between confidence and anxiety. This is followed by an analysis of George Herbert's poem, "Ephes. 4.30", and the link Herbert portrays here between the arts and the Holy Spirit.
Perhaps the essay I found most fascinating was the eighth, exploring the ideas of music, space, and freedom. He proposes that often we have difficulties with questions of the one and the many, or the intersection of divine and human freedom because of perceiving these in terms of either visual or material space. He observes that music opens up another way of conceiving of these in which multiple tones may occupy the same aural space simultaneously, with none being cancelled out, and if anything, producing a richer and more interesting sound than a single tone, whether harmonious or dissonant.
The collection concludes with Begbie's thoughts on the contribution of Reformed theology to the arts. His discussion of Reformed perspectives on "beauty" and "sacrament" help sharpen the creature, Creator distinction, and clarify the fuzziness with which these ideas are often thrown around in art and theology discussions. He addresses the Reformed commitment to the word as both significant in God's self-communication, and yet also complemented by other media that communicate realities for which words alone are inadequate.
Reflecting Begbie's musical training, the essays tend to focus more on musical than other forms of art. As a choral singer and lay theologian, I did not mind this. His thoughts about beauty and sentiment reminded me of singing the second movement of Bernstein's Chichester Psalms in which the pastoral beauty of Psalm 23 is juxtaposed with Psalm 2 and the dissonant raging of the nations against God. The evocative power of music and the alignment of music and words to express truth in worship was powerfully apparent when we performed Ola Gjeilo's Dark Night of the Soul that seems to capture the stillness of the soul facing the dark, and the wonder of the sheer grace of God that one finds in this setting of St. John of the Cross's meditation. There is the wonder (when it happens) of many voices singing different parts coming together as a single entity--where the singing of individuals didn't cancel out each other but create something more than our separate voices.
Begbie's essays made me reflect on these experiences and gave theological content to them. The essays are written at an academic level, for academic conferences, but reward careful reading with insight. This is a great service for artists, who seek not merely technical proficiency, but to write, or sing, or play, or dance, or act, or paint with an authenticity that reflects our deepest loves, and for the Christian, the connection of our work with the Creator's story.
___________________________
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own
October 1, 2025
In one provocative chapter, Begbie—a professionally trained musician and professor of theology at Duke Divinity School—turns his attention to the worship music increasingly common in North American churches over the past few decades. Begbie describes “the burgeoning of a certain kind of devotional song, often directed to the risen Christ, a direct and unadorned expression of love, with music that is metrically regular, harmonically warm and reassuring, easily accessible, and singable.”
Clearly these comfortable, reassuring songs have their place in worship services, as Begbie himself acknowledges. But it’s not an especially well-rounded diet. When these are the only songs we sing when we come together, our shared sense of the range of what’s valid (and vital) in gathered worship is greatly restricted . . .
Continue reading at timhoiland.com.
Clearly these comfortable, reassuring songs have their place in worship services, as Begbie himself acknowledges. But it’s not an especially well-rounded diet. When these are the only songs we sing when we come together, our shared sense of the range of what’s valid (and vital) in gathered worship is greatly restricted . . .
Continue reading at timhoiland.com.
January 22, 2023
A collection of sterling essays on theological aesthetics from a thoroughly refreshing classical Protestant perspective. The book doesn't really contain a contiguous argument, and most of the pieces are either reprinted from Begbie's academic work or lectures he had given at some point. But this is the book that first got me into the relationship between faith and art, and forced me to think about these things in what were for me at the time, quite mind-blowing ways. It was a principal source for me when I wrote my high school thesis on Bach's music as exemplary of art as evangelism. Revisiting it a few years later, I still think it is top-notch, and especially helpful for those like myself who are interested in the theology of music, as most books on this subject tend mostly to relegate their exploration to visual art and literature. Begbie is one of the finest Bach scholars alive today, and his essay on Elgar's Dream of Gerontius is an unexpected bonus. Anyone interested in culture, theology, and imagination needs to be familiar with Begbie; although perhaps he has written slightly more accessible works.
July 3, 2024
A collection of thoughtful, if not accessible, readings on theology, faith, and art. Being a collection of essays (usually taken from lectures or talks Begbie has given) it is a mixed bag. Some are ones that have really helped shaped my thinking (like the final chapter on Reformed Theology and the arts and Begbie’s wonderful discussion of sentimentality in chapter 2,) but the rest occupy a middle ground with some thoughtful things but nothing that stuck out to me. I think the difficulty with Begbie, and many who focus on the arts in the academy, are really only focusing on high arts. The difficulty is can we take these thoughts and apply them to popular music, film, literature, or video games? I think we can, but the academy hasn’t reached that point yet.
In any case, has some good essays in here so if you are interested in the interaction of faith and art on a scholarly level this would be a good read.
In any case, has some good essays in here so if you are interested in the interaction of faith and art on a scholarly level this would be a good read.
April 21, 2025
I’ll remember the last two essays the best, but my main thought after reading this is that I don’t think I’ve ever read this much about music in my life. I am grateful to Begbie for his insightful analysis of a medium of art I’ve often avoided.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews