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By the Renewing of Your Minds: The Pastoral Function of Christian Doctrine
This book develops the thesis that classical Christian theology seeks to help believers flourish by knowing and loving God. Ellen Charry argues this premise by example, offering a close reading of a number of classical texts, from the New Testament era to the Reformation, including works of Paul, Augustine, Athanasius, Basil of Caesarea, Anselm, and Calvin. She points out the pastoral and moral aims that shape the teachings of these theologians on a wide range of topics, including the Trinity; human beings as created in the image of God; the incorporation of Jews and Gentiles into the body of Christ in baptism; the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Christ; and the divinity of the Holy Spirit. Charry explains that the very logic of their arguments is shaped by the author's concern for the goodness and happiness that should result from living into the doctrines. She further shows that although the spiritual and pastoral purposes of these writings are many and complex, they
are invariably concerned to foster what modern people can, without difficulty, recognize as human dignity--what she calls "excellence"--in action, affection, and self-appraisal.
are invariably concerned to foster what modern people can, without difficulty, recognize as human dignity--what she calls "excellence"--in action, affection, and self-appraisal.
280 pages, Paperback
First published July 3, 1997
16 people are currently reading
150 people want to read
About the author
Ellen T. Charry
14 books6 followersEllen T. Charry (PhD, Temple University) is Margaret W. Harmon Professor of Theology at Princeton Theological Seminary in Princeton, New Jersey. She is the author of several books, including God and the Art of Happiness, and serves as an editor-at-large for the Christian Century.
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
January 10, 2015
Unlike modern theology that has often divorced the study of theology from spirituality, a study of theologians from the Patristic, Medieval, and Reformation periods reveal that theology has always been wedded together with Christian piety. Ellen Charry seeks to make this case in her By the Renewing of Your Minds: The Pastoral Function of Christian Doctrine (Oxford, 1997). As Charry writes of Augustine, it could be said that her aim is “to persuade the reader that revelation and doctrine work together to reshape our mind and affections and thereby our identity” (133). For her study Charry coins a new term, “aretegenic” (“conducive to virtue”); and each chapter seeks to put forward the “aretegenic” value—or character-shaping function—of each theologian, from early apostles like Paul to Basil of Caesarea to Anselm of Canterbury to John Calvin.
For evangelical readers, her thesis is well received but not entirely new. Theologians like J. I. Packer and others have for decades been beating this drum. But Charry, writing from a unique context (she is a professor of systematic theology at Princeton Theological Seminary), seeks to reintroduce this classical emphasis in the academy. It is hard to overstate the influence of John Locke, David Hume, and Immanuel Kant on the ejection of sapience (or wisdom) from categories of truth and knowledge (6-10). In contrast, the theologians of the past “based their understanding of human excellence on knowing and loving God, the imitation of or assimilation to whom brings proper human dignity and flourishing” (18). Indeed, much of the theological inquiry of these theologians was necessitated because of pastoral concerns. Far from ivory-tower musing, this was theology birthed in the often messy realities of life—whether in defense of the Holy Spirit’s deity because of its practical import for the believer’s growth in sanctification or Calvin’s affirmation of biblical authority for the Christian’s growth in discernment. These theologians sought to “do” theology not merely for mental titillation but for a “richer life with God” (242). Charry, in sum, drives her thesis home and makes an unassailable case: theology, when done rightly, is always virtue-shaping; it is a biblical truth and one best embodied by theologians of the past.
Finally, I should note two criticisms. Charry is theologically “conservative” in comparison to many of her peers in the academic guild, but at times she makes statements that many evangelicals will find troublesome. For example, she puts forward the apostle Paul’s “aretegenic” theology but sees his teaching of a wife’s submission to her husband as a failure to fully embody Christ’s lordship. According to Charry’s egalitarian understanding, “these biblical writers . . . were unable to visualize a social structure that both honored the lordship of Christ and distributed responsibilities and skills necessary for preserving family and society evenly” (57). One other criticism is her writing style. Charry is a clear but dense writer. Some sentences are longwinded while others contain needless qualifiers, a common weakness of academic writing. The book could have used more sub- and sub-sub headings to aid the reader in tracking with the various arguments and trains of thought. That said, I whole-heartedly endorse her thesis and commend it to all who engage in the most noble study: God himself.
For evangelical readers, her thesis is well received but not entirely new. Theologians like J. I. Packer and others have for decades been beating this drum. But Charry, writing from a unique context (she is a professor of systematic theology at Princeton Theological Seminary), seeks to reintroduce this classical emphasis in the academy. It is hard to overstate the influence of John Locke, David Hume, and Immanuel Kant on the ejection of sapience (or wisdom) from categories of truth and knowledge (6-10). In contrast, the theologians of the past “based their understanding of human excellence on knowing and loving God, the imitation of or assimilation to whom brings proper human dignity and flourishing” (18). Indeed, much of the theological inquiry of these theologians was necessitated because of pastoral concerns. Far from ivory-tower musing, this was theology birthed in the often messy realities of life—whether in defense of the Holy Spirit’s deity because of its practical import for the believer’s growth in sanctification or Calvin’s affirmation of biblical authority for the Christian’s growth in discernment. These theologians sought to “do” theology not merely for mental titillation but for a “richer life with God” (242). Charry, in sum, drives her thesis home and makes an unassailable case: theology, when done rightly, is always virtue-shaping; it is a biblical truth and one best embodied by theologians of the past.
Finally, I should note two criticisms. Charry is theologically “conservative” in comparison to many of her peers in the academic guild, but at times she makes statements that many evangelicals will find troublesome. For example, she puts forward the apostle Paul’s “aretegenic” theology but sees his teaching of a wife’s submission to her husband as a failure to fully embody Christ’s lordship. According to Charry’s egalitarian understanding, “these biblical writers . . . were unable to visualize a social structure that both honored the lordship of Christ and distributed responsibilities and skills necessary for preserving family and society evenly” (57). One other criticism is her writing style. Charry is a clear but dense writer. Some sentences are longwinded while others contain needless qualifiers, a common weakness of academic writing. The book could have used more sub- and sub-sub headings to aid the reader in tracking with the various arguments and trains of thought. That said, I whole-heartedly endorse her thesis and commend it to all who engage in the most noble study: God himself.
June 19, 2017
Heavy book, not one for the casual or new believer.
August 4, 2018
Academic-historical treatment on the need for theology to be “artegenic” in nature. Have a dictionary close by!
June 17, 2022
Not that engaging. Charry has a few insights, but basically, she could make her points in the last chapter instead of going over patristic, medieval, and reformation history.
June 20, 2012
I think this is an important book, and I’m very glad it’s been written. I still believe it will prove useful for my research, though now that I’ve actually sat down with it, I’m a little disappointed.
I love that the Preface begins, “This book arose from reading classical texts of Christian theology slowly.” From that reading emerged the thesis that “when Christian doctrines assert the truth about God, the world, and ourselves, it is a truth that seeks to influence us” (viii). This would seem to be an uncontroversial statement, but Charry argues that, after the 17th century, modernity disjoined truth, beauty, and goodness, undermining the pastoral function of doctrine in the process.
To demonstrate her thesis, Charry examines a handful of “the most distrusted of Christian theologians,” looking at “unlikely texts for demonstrating the salutarity of doctrine.” Those figures include Athanasius, Basil the Great, Augustine, and Calvin. Some biblical themes and medieval theologians are also discussed, but, like a good academic, I skipped over the chapters that weren’t directly pertinent to me…
Earlier Christian tradition stressed sapience (not just knowledge, but engaged, emotionally attached knowledge) as the foundation of human excellence. Charry goes through each theologian to show how their writings attempted to form readers in Christian excellence, i.e. a life shaped by knowledge and love of God. She follows what she calls the “salutarity principle,” that “Christian doctrines function pastorally when a theologian unearths the divine pedagogy in order to engage the reader or listener in considering that life with the triune God facilitates dignity and excellence” (18). From the Greek, she also coins the terms aretology/aretegenic—“conducive to virtue.”
Of the patristic chapters, I liked the one on Basil of Caesarea the best. Charry gives a close reading of On the Holy Spirit to uncover Basil’s argument that spiritual transformation testifies to the truth of orthodox trinitarianism. For Basil, the language used about God in public worship must be theologically precise and accessible in order to be pastorally salutary. I really like how she uses an apparently theoretical work to demonstrate that dogmatic exegesis has practical ends (105). Though I agree that cognitive assent is only one part of what “sapience” entails, I didn’t completely follow how dogmatic exegesis goes as far as to help us “become loving by being loved” (115).
Her reading of Calvin is fairly sympathetic, all things considered. While she appreciates that Calvin wants Christians to take comfort in God’s love for them even though they deserve only wrath, she doesn’t think it effectively outweighs the Calvinist emphasis on self-despair (i.e. despairing of one's sins) and self-denial. In fact, she traces back to Augustine a shift of concern from sapience to the quest for certainty and assurance; i.e., before the medieval period really, the questions “does God love me?” and whether and how one’s sins can be forgiven were not foremost in people’s minds. While we might worry that an ancient Platonic worldview risks blurring the line between creator and creature, Charry sees the medieval rise of belief in enmity between humans and God as at least equally damaging. (Shockingly, I find the above claims problematic… :) )
All the same, this book is helpful for my purposes in its call for a renewal of a pastoral theology of doctrine, and its encouragement to read the Fathers in that light. Charry is clear that not all Fathers wrote “aretegenically” and that the answer for our day isn’t a wooden adaptation of their worldview(s). But she provides a helpful reminder of the Fathers’ eminently pastoral concerns and of how they understood the nature of the theological task and use of doctrine. I especially appreciate her comments (229) that moderns find the ancient use of Greek categories problematic because our epistemology doesn’t understand the relationship between happiness, goodness, and truth in the same way.
I’ll probably want to come back and mull over pp. 228-233 further. I can’t help but think there’s more to what the patristic writers were doing than “doctrine shows people that God is loving and thereby inspires them to practice virtue,” but I’ll need to do some more digging…
I love that the Preface begins, “This book arose from reading classical texts of Christian theology slowly.” From that reading emerged the thesis that “when Christian doctrines assert the truth about God, the world, and ourselves, it is a truth that seeks to influence us” (viii). This would seem to be an uncontroversial statement, but Charry argues that, after the 17th century, modernity disjoined truth, beauty, and goodness, undermining the pastoral function of doctrine in the process.
To demonstrate her thesis, Charry examines a handful of “the most distrusted of Christian theologians,” looking at “unlikely texts for demonstrating the salutarity of doctrine.” Those figures include Athanasius, Basil the Great, Augustine, and Calvin. Some biblical themes and medieval theologians are also discussed, but, like a good academic, I skipped over the chapters that weren’t directly pertinent to me…
Earlier Christian tradition stressed sapience (not just knowledge, but engaged, emotionally attached knowledge) as the foundation of human excellence. Charry goes through each theologian to show how their writings attempted to form readers in Christian excellence, i.e. a life shaped by knowledge and love of God. She follows what she calls the “salutarity principle,” that “Christian doctrines function pastorally when a theologian unearths the divine pedagogy in order to engage the reader or listener in considering that life with the triune God facilitates dignity and excellence” (18). From the Greek, she also coins the terms aretology/aretegenic—“conducive to virtue.”
Of the patristic chapters, I liked the one on Basil of Caesarea the best. Charry gives a close reading of On the Holy Spirit to uncover Basil’s argument that spiritual transformation testifies to the truth of orthodox trinitarianism. For Basil, the language used about God in public worship must be theologically precise and accessible in order to be pastorally salutary. I really like how she uses an apparently theoretical work to demonstrate that dogmatic exegesis has practical ends (105). Though I agree that cognitive assent is only one part of what “sapience” entails, I didn’t completely follow how dogmatic exegesis goes as far as to help us “become loving by being loved” (115).
Her reading of Calvin is fairly sympathetic, all things considered. While she appreciates that Calvin wants Christians to take comfort in God’s love for them even though they deserve only wrath, she doesn’t think it effectively outweighs the Calvinist emphasis on self-despair (i.e. despairing of one's sins) and self-denial. In fact, she traces back to Augustine a shift of concern from sapience to the quest for certainty and assurance; i.e., before the medieval period really, the questions “does God love me?” and whether and how one’s sins can be forgiven were not foremost in people’s minds. While we might worry that an ancient Platonic worldview risks blurring the line between creator and creature, Charry sees the medieval rise of belief in enmity between humans and God as at least equally damaging. (Shockingly, I find the above claims problematic… :) )
All the same, this book is helpful for my purposes in its call for a renewal of a pastoral theology of doctrine, and its encouragement to read the Fathers in that light. Charry is clear that not all Fathers wrote “aretegenically” and that the answer for our day isn’t a wooden adaptation of their worldview(s). But she provides a helpful reminder of the Fathers’ eminently pastoral concerns and of how they understood the nature of the theological task and use of doctrine. I especially appreciate her comments (229) that moderns find the ancient use of Greek categories problematic because our epistemology doesn’t understand the relationship between happiness, goodness, and truth in the same way.
I’ll probably want to come back and mull over pp. 228-233 further. I can’t help but think there’s more to what the patristic writers were doing than “doctrine shows people that God is loving and thereby inspires them to practice virtue,” but I’ll need to do some more digging…
March 30, 2016
This scholarly survey of several theologians, from Paul to Anselm to Calvin, seeks to show how theology has been, and ought to be, done with a strong awareness of how it shapes people and causes them to think and act. As Charry says, "...the point is simply that as these major shapers of the Christian tradition formulated, reformulated, and revised Christian doctrine, its moral, psychological, and social implications were uppermost in their minds" (p. 233).
In examining these theologians, she looks at what she calls the "aretegenic" focus of their writings (aretegenic = "conductive to virtue," p. 19). How does each writer seek to motivate his readers through theology? While each writer varies, a common theme is how knowing and relating to God is good for us, leading to excellence, enjoyment, and love (rather than guilt-racked fear, a result of theological error which some of these theologians sough to correct).
This is an insightful book, as well as a very academic book. Some parts were easier to follow than others (I found the chapter on Augustine one of the more difficult). The author comes from Princeton Seminary, and thus I am not surprised that the revelatory aspect of Scripture doesn't seem to play a large role. For example, her helpful comparison of theology and medicine (p. 11) breaks down when it is noted that theology has an inerrant source to draw from, unlike medicine. She recognizes that a possible critique (one that was forming in my mind) was that her approach seems to make theology utilitarian or pragmatic, but she is right in her response that it is wrong to pit usefulness and truth against each other (p. 233).
Charry ends this this book with some suggestions on how to shape a distinct Christian character and identity. As she notes, this is more important than ever with an increasingly secular and invasive culture. By default, we are shaped according to the character and identity of the secular worldview around us. It will take self-conscious Christian practices framed around "prayer, study, and practice" to cultivate distinct character and identity (p. 241-242). Aretegenic theology plays a chief role in this formation (p. 240). It will take disciplined training to develop the skill of knowing God and self, but "the more training, the deeper the involvement, and the deeper the involvement, the greater the enjoyment; and the greater the enjoyment, the greater the dignity and nobility of life" (p. 244).
In examining these theologians, she looks at what she calls the "aretegenic" focus of their writings (aretegenic = "conductive to virtue," p. 19). How does each writer seek to motivate his readers through theology? While each writer varies, a common theme is how knowing and relating to God is good for us, leading to excellence, enjoyment, and love (rather than guilt-racked fear, a result of theological error which some of these theologians sough to correct).
This is an insightful book, as well as a very academic book. Some parts were easier to follow than others (I found the chapter on Augustine one of the more difficult). The author comes from Princeton Seminary, and thus I am not surprised that the revelatory aspect of Scripture doesn't seem to play a large role. For example, her helpful comparison of theology and medicine (p. 11) breaks down when it is noted that theology has an inerrant source to draw from, unlike medicine. She recognizes that a possible critique (one that was forming in my mind) was that her approach seems to make theology utilitarian or pragmatic, but she is right in her response that it is wrong to pit usefulness and truth against each other (p. 233).
Charry ends this this book with some suggestions on how to shape a distinct Christian character and identity. As she notes, this is more important than ever with an increasingly secular and invasive culture. By default, we are shaped according to the character and identity of the secular worldview around us. It will take self-conscious Christian practices framed around "prayer, study, and practice" to cultivate distinct character and identity (p. 241-242). Aretegenic theology plays a chief role in this formation (p. 240). It will take disciplined training to develop the skill of knowing God and self, but "the more training, the deeper the involvement, and the deeper the involvement, the greater the enjoyment; and the greater the enjoyment, the greater the dignity and nobility of life" (p. 244).
June 24, 2016
While this book is a bit dry in places, the last chapter sums up the author's argument well. In short, she is trying to challenge our modernistic understanding of truth by contrasting it with the way significant church leaders have regarded truth throughout the centuries. In short, the church has traditionally regarded truth as being sapiential (i.e. contributing to wisdom and character), but modernity regards truth as scientia, or empirical facts that don't change us. From a pastoral perspective this is a significant distinction.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews