In recent years, I have given less and less attention to online theological debates, and this for a few reasons. In the first place, as I'm a graduate student in theology at Harvard Divinity School (where the workload is-to say the least-demanding), I simply don't have the time to follow (still less to interact with) such. And, in the second place-and more importantly-when in the past I actually did participate in online exchanges, I increasingly found them to be intellectually futile or spiritually destructive. Not infrequently, one will encounter brilliant insights and arguments set forth with a degree of rigor and cogency that should mark all intellectual inquiry; and, almost without exception, one finds a level of zeal that exceeds that which is to be found even in the academy. Yet, more often than not, it seems to me that the participants in the debates simply wish to advance their own views (or, to rejoice in having those of similar persuasion congratulate them with regard to how right they are in holding them) rather than to engage others in a spirit of charity, or to explore an issue with that objective, Augustinian sense of disinterestedness which is guided by a pure desire for Truth which verges on the erotic. The result is a deluge of "posts," the zeal with which the arguments are set forth far exceeding their worth, and which quite often result in more invective than substance.

That said, J.P. Holding has been a close personal friend of mine for some years, and I still do check out 'What's New' at Tekton when opportunity allows. Thus, when the most recent edition of the Harvard Divinity Bulletin noted that one of its alumni-Hector Avalos-had recently published a work, I was surprised to see that our paths had once again crossed, and I decided to pay attention to the Holding-Avalos debate. Having now read some (but not all) of the offerings of both at their respective sites of posting, I wanted to make a few comments in passing, and to defend Holding on a point that seems to have received a substantial amount of attention in the exchange (even though, I believe, the argument would be much more productive for both parties were the point simply dropped).

At the outset, I admit that I have yet to read the work of Avalos in question, and, from what I've gathered (both pro and con), I do not intend to. That said, after reading the following, if Avalos wishes, I invite him to recommend to me a portion of his work which pertains to the aspects of theology with which I am most competent (viz., the doctrines of the Trinity and Christology, historical theology, and philosophical theology), and I'd be willing to have an exchange with him on the matter, whether at TWeb, or at another place where he feels more comfortable. I assure him that I will be utterly civil in dealing with him, and that he will receive from me none of the name-calling, etc., which he finds so distasteful in Holding.

That said, returning to the subject at hand, the point I wish to defend Holding on concerns the notions of academic "specialization" and "competence." Part of Holding's criticism of Avalos' chapter on textual criticism is that he (Avalos) is no "specialist" in this area, which further supports Holding's claims to the effect that his (Avalos') arguments are to be regarded as defective. Avalos has replied by claiming that he is indeed a "specialist" in this field, and that this is proven by: 1) his training in such at Harvard, and; 2) his having published a few articles which deal, to some extent, with matters pertaining to the discipline of textual criticism (in passing, I mention that I'm not sure whether Avalos himself would view such as sufficiently establishing one as a 'specialist,' or, rather, whether he's simply trying to run the gauntlet as it has been thrown by Holding). Holding has replied that such is not sufficient to establish one as a "specialist," and that, at best, it proves only that Avalos has "dabbled" in the field.

Again, I mention that I don't believe that anything essential to the debate turns on it, but, that said, I believe Holding to be correct on this point. I have done a search for Avalos' journal, etc., publications at the ATLA Religion Database, and out of 49 articles (some of which, I mention, were reviews of Avalos' work by others), the vast majority treated of the subject of health care (from a religious perspective), a decent number dealt with the Latino experience of Christianity, and just a few pertained to matters closely related to textual criticism. In addition, I also found the abstract of Avalos' doctoral dissertation ('Illness and Health Care in Ancient Israel: A Comparative Study of the Role of the Temple'), and while textual criticism is not wholly unrelated to such an enterprise, it is clearly not the principal object of focus. The same can be said with regard to the topics of his published books.

Of course, this is not to say that Avalos' curriculum vitae at all implies complete incompetence with regard to textual criticism; it is, however, to say that-unless I'm missing something-he is no expert in the field (he appears rather to be an expert on the topic of health care within the Judeo-Christian tradition). In defending this claim-which may seem counterintuitive to many, especially given Avalos' resume, and his having obtained both a master's and doctoral degree in theology from Harvard-I submit the following for the reader's consideration.

In the first place, while 'theology' may seem to be a rather unified concept to many people, at the academic level, it is a highly diversified subject with an extraordinary number of subdisciplines. Thus, although a university will (hopefully!) assure that its theology students have at least a familiarity with the whole, the student is usually able to claim competence (= "is able to teach the subject to undergrads, at least") in one of the broader fields (historical theology, comparative theology, systematic theology, scriptural interpretation, etc.), one becomes a specialist on one of the topics in their respective field (e.g., I'm in the field of systematic theology for the most part, and-God willing-if I am accepted to a Ph.D. program, I'll specialize in the doctrine of the Trinity), and, being expert on this particular subject, one then goes on to write a doctoral dissertation on an even narrower subject.

The point here is that having a Ph.D. in theology does not at all imply that one can speak authoritatively on all of theology's subdisciplines, nor still that competence in one area translates into competence with regard even to areas closely related to that in which one specializes. In my time at Harvard, this has become apparent to me more than once. Sometimes, this comes in the form of an overly confident professor who happens to make a claim-significant in its implications-which I just happen to know to be wrong in point of fact, or, who attempts to articulate some doctrine and either misconstrues it or misses its central point; sometimes, it comes in the form of a Ph.D. student (who has already passed his or her general exams) who confesses ignorance on a point which undoubtedly should be known, given their area of concentration; but, most often, it is shown when a professor-who is very learned in his or her own field-simply admits uncertainty with regard to what is about to be claimed. For example, one of my professor's, who is a world authority on the history of Christianity, admitted that he was unable to provide us students with a theological assessment of the doctrinal controversy, the history of which he had just covered so thoroughly. In other words, he did not presume to speak authoritatively on something beyond his expertise, and I have found this learned humility to be characteristic of the vast majority of Harvard's theology professors: although they can append from memory a page-long footnote to every sentence they write, they are aware of their limitations, and, when they meet them, they are more likely to point you in the direction of someone (or book) that can address the matter more satisfactorily than they themselves could, rather than attempt to venture a claim and pass it off as competent to the question at hand.

I cite another example, this time more directly from my own academic career. Harvard Divinity School has three areas of concentration: scriptural interpretation, Christianity and culture, and world religions. Each student is to specialize in one field, but to take at least two classes in each of the others. As I mentioned above, my area of focus is systematic theology (which falls under Christianity and culture), and the majority of my classes and written work have focused on various aspects of the doctrine of the Trinity. That said, I have taken classes in other fields, and can claim a basic knowledge of them. Thus, with regard to world religions, I have taken classes from world authorities on Zoroastrianism and comparative theology; more still, one of my final essays for studies in this field has recently been accepted for publication by a peer-reviewed academic journal. The essay focuses on an aspect of Zoroastrianism, comparing its doctrine of metaphysical dualism with those of the Christian and Platonic traditions, respectively.

The point I wish to make here is that, although an essay of mine on Zoroastrianism has indeed been accepted for publication, and although I learned of Zoroastrianism from a world authority on the subject, I do not at all see this as implying that I am competent with regard to that tradition, still less that I can be regarded as a specialist in the field. Rather, I see such as implying only that I have grasped an aspect of Zoroastrianism, and have shown that this aspect of the tradition has noteworthy implications and resonances and, as such, is perhaps worthy of further exploration, whether by those who indeed are expert in the field, or, merely those who find the subject interesting and worthwhile. And, if my future academic studies prove to be as fortunate as those of my past, and God sees fit to allow me to gain a mastery of the theological topic that I am most interested in and with which I have the best claim to competence (i.e., the Trinity), I cannot imagine that, were I to look back upon my first publication on Zoroastrianism, I would cite such as proof that I am a specialist also in comparative theology in general, or Zoroastrianism in particular. I rather think I would be inclined to adopt Holding's phraseology, and say that I have merely "dabbled" in the field.

Thus, from the vantage point of my own limited experience in academic theology, I believe Holding to be in the right on this point, and Avalos to be in the wrong (unless I have severely misunderstood Avalos here, that is). Both competence and specialization in a given field of theology are hard to come by, and claims to such oughtn't be made on the cheap. I do not approach a work by J.D.G. Dunn and expect its claims with regard to Christology to have the theological coherence and rigor of those to be found in a work by the likes of a Christopher Schwöbel, and I would regard someone who uses a citation from even a towering theological giant like Hans Urs von Balthasar to buttress a strictly exegetical claim to be misguided-and this not simply for committing the academic sin of prooftexting. And, so too, while I have every reason to believe that Hector Avalos has a right to claim expertise with regard to an aspect of theology, I think we would do well to caution ourselves against assuming that such translates automatically into competence or specialization in others.

That said, I believe Avalos can rightly claim to be a biblical scholar. As such, his arguments ought be greeted initially with the degree of respect that his education invites, and, if they are found wanting, they can be challenged on their own terms. I have mentioned in the preceding areas of theology in which I feel myself to be somewhat competent, and, in the event that Avalos is willing, I welcome him to notify me of those portions of his work which correspond, and we can then debate the matter civilly.

All best,

Matt Paulson