Despite the renaissance of trinitarian reflection during the last half-century of Christian theology, the doctrine of the immanent Trinity – God's triune being in se as distinct from God's acts or operations ad extra – has suffered significant neglect. Following Karl Rahner's now famous axiom that ‘the “economic” Trinity is the “immanent” Trinity and the “immanent” Trinity is the “economic” Trinity’, contemporary theologians have focused primarily on the economy of salvation as the means by which God's triune being is known. Speculation about the inner life of God, abstracted from God's own self-revelation, has been eschewed for its tendency to turn the immanent Trinity into a rarified, esoteric doctrine with little influence on practical piety. Thus for most contemporary theologians, the neglect of the doctrine of the immanent Trinity is quite benign.

In remarks offered in 2006 at a conference at Princeton Theological Seminary, inaugurating a National Religious Campaign against Torture, the legal philosopher Jeremy Waldron observed that Christian leaders have contributed relatively little to the recent debate over the use of torture. This is regrettable, in his view, because secular morality does not have resources sufficient to address the question of torture, and a Christian perspective emphasising the absoluteness and divine character of the relevant moral norms would represent an important contribution to our reflections on this question. This article offers a response to Waldron's timely and important challenge, setting forth a Christian theological argument that the practice of torture is categorically prohibited. The basis for this prohibition does not rest, however, on the absoluteness of moral norms as such – rather, it rests on the distinctive character of torture as an egregious assault on the human person regarded as image of God.

Theological discourse on the doctrine of the attributes of God has lacked a clear sense of its purpose within the doctrine of God. It has far too often led one into an abstract realm in which an incipient naturalism is present concerning who God is and what God is like: the attributes resemble those of a supreme being rather than the triune God of the gospel. If the doctrine is to perform the salutary theological work for which it is capable, it would be to its advantage to describe, as does Barth, God's attributes in terms of a series of short-hand descriptions which agree with God's enacted identity in the history of Israel as fulfilled in Jesus Christ. In doing so, Barth offers a tremendously creative re-inhabitation of the doctrine. It is creative precisely because Barth avoids many of the shortcomings of the historical shape of the doctrine, as exemplified for him in Protestant Orthodoxy's tendency toward semi-nominalism, by attending anew to the declarative and communicative character of the glory of the Lord, a glory which is inclusive of a multiplicity of perfections. The result is a rearticulation of the doctrine of the divine attributes that is truly concrete, inasmuch as it eschews not only a false apophaticism, which would deflect attention away from the resplendent contours of God's saving self-display in the economy of salvation, but also attests the extent of God's propensity to ever give of himself as he is and to evoke a form of creaturely life commensurate with his self-giving.

What has ‘emerged’ in the ‘emerging church’ movement, through writers such as Brian McLaren, is merely a new form of correlational theology – or what I will term ‘neo-correlational theology’. This ‘emergent’ movement aligns itself with Paul Tillich's systematic presentation of what he termed a ‘theology of culture’ addressed in his 1919 lecture ‘Über die Idee einer Theologie der Kultur’ and is deeply rooted in theological essentialisms aligned with Friedrich Schleiermacher and Don Browning. While many adherents of the Emergent movement have recently attempted to catalogue its theological legacy, this article will address three key emphases which haunt the corners of its discourse yet remain largely unacknowledged. First, the heritage of Schleiermacher's notion of ‘feeling’ as an authentic categorical form of knowledge forged through radical reflexivity which is the proper domain for authenticity in the Emergent movement. Second, as underscored in Tillich's Theology of Culture, the church as ‘emergent’ is profoundly imminent and therefore necessarily social, positivistic and historical. Third, theological anthropology is understood primarily through our freedom over and (at times) against the necessity of redemption. The question this article will address is whether or not such an approach reimagined as ‘neo-correlational theology’ and actualised through the ‘emerging church’ movement tacitly relies upon a more traditional theology which it explicitly rejects.

The category of ‘gift’ has become one of the central constellating themes for discussion in recent post-modern theology. This paper (originally given as an address at the AAR meeting in Atlanta, November 2003) first sets out to explain how and why the theme has come to exercise such fascination since the original appearance of Marcel Mauss's anthropological monograph, The Gift, in 1924. It goes on to provide a critical comparison of the recent treatments of ‘gift’ in the systematic work of John Milbank and Kathryn Tanner. Arguing that questions of economic justice, inner-trinitarian relations and human gender hang together in Milbank's and Tanner's rather different approaches to ‘gift’, a critique of both authors is then essayed from this systematic perspective. Whilst Milbank's attempt to ‘ground’ the gender binary in the Trinity causes question-begging claims about gendered ‘difference’ in God, and a texture of seeming assent to economic inequalities, Tanner's obliteration of any sense of reciprocity or exchange within the divine economy veers in the opposite direction, seeking merely the suppression of difference. Returning finally to the New Testament, to the Cappadocian insistence on radical donation to the poor, and to Augustine's insistence that donum applies specifically to the Spirit, it is concluded that the patristic heritage presents a more demanding and subtle account of divine ‘gift’ and human response than is found in either of these contemporary authors, for all their insight and flair.

I argue that Lindbeck's notion of religion as a cultural-linguistic system may be profitably considered in the light of contemporary socio-linguistic concerns orientated towards the critical analysis of real-world language usage. Examples drawn from observation are used to show how, by combining Lindbeck's approach with Critical Discourse Analysis (Critical Postliberalism), extrasystemic features of religion and religious language can be perceived which link with a basic (R1–R2) dialectic. The latter can be correlated not only with the observable product of socio-theological grammars in believing communities today, but also with salient features of the gospels. Regional and other culturally related variations appear within limits to be accommodated by the model.

Let me begin by thanking Jeff Hensley for taking the time and expending the effort to respond to my book on the Trinity. Naturally I appreciate his positive assessments offered in the opening pages of his paper. As any reader might expect, I was less enthusiastic about his Rahnerian proposals, together with his other two critical questions. As Hensley mentioned, it might very well be helpful to discuss these issues in greater depth so that we might come to a deeper appreciation of how and why a properly conceived doctrine of the immanent Trinity might help us recognise more clearly both divine and human freedom at a time when God's freedom for us so frequently takes the form of a purely economic trinitarianism which leaves no room for God really to act for us within history in his own distinctive way. And it is worth noting, of course, that the purpose of my book was not to discuss any and every possible implication of a properly conceived doctrine of the immanent Trinity; my purpose, rather, was to clear the ground of misconceptions of divine freedom, in order that any theology claiming to be based on sound trinitarian doctrine could be seen to be grounded in God rather than being the product of human projection. My book, then, was not a book about social justice, which certainly is a worthy topic of discussion in its own right, even though it seems Hensley would have preferred such a work.