HannaReichel, <i>After Method: Queer Grace, Conceptual Design, and the Possibility of Theology</i>. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2023, 277pp. $40.00

Hanna Reichel has written the book that I wished I had twenty years ago when I began teaching introductory theology courses at Columbia Seminary. Today, even more than twenty years ago, I seek to draw on insights from both ‘systematic’ and constructive theologies, for the sake of the diverse students in the classroom. In the introduction, Reichel states, ‘I confess that to this day I do not understand the distinction and division between liberation theology and systematic theology’ (p. 12), prompting in me a relieved ‘hooray!’ They proceed to develop an approach that does not conform to a single theological method, but instead consider theology as ‘conceptual design’. Using design principles, theologians are free to use a variety of methods depending on context and uses, without imagining that consistently applying a particular method will ever save us. Reichel, professor of theology at Princeton Seminary, organizes this book as a sly ‘conversation in two voices’: Karl Barth (representing the ‘systematic-theological, dogmatic, confessional voice’) and Marcella Althaus-Reid (‘the constructive-theological, queer, decolonial voice’). As host of the conversation, Reichel summarizes, clarifies, juxtaposes, and illumines both theologians with equal affection and equal precision, ultimately showing how their methods are not mutually exclusive but can learn from each other. Eventually, they move toward a ‘better’ (never ‘good’) theology that attends to local, contextual analysis rather than universal truth-claims. The heart of this project rests on the incisive connection between the problem of theological method and the theological topic of the ‘law’. Drawing on Reformed theological analysis of the law's threefold use, Reichel displays how method (similar to law) can be ‘used’ in three ways: (1) guarding against ‘bad theology’ (corresponding to the first, ‘civil’ use of the law), (2) exposing our inability to follow method/law perfectly (the second, ‘convicting’ use of the law) and (3) instrumentally to guide the work of building ‘better’ theology, knowing that neither method nor theology can save us (Calvin's third and principal use of the law). As Reichel explains in the conclusion, ‘I am arguing for a desoteriologized understanding of method, a mindful and threefold use of it as an instrument of grace rather than its condition’ (p. 248). Along the way, they demonstrate the contingency of both systematic and constructive approaches to theology, showing how both are ‘ecologically fitted ways of doing theology’ (p. 64). By ‘provincializing’ both methods, Reichel enables the reader to appreciate the context for which each is best fitted, thus inviting readers to consider the context for which we each seek to do theology, and what method might work best for each given situation. Reichel's work will delight readers steeped in Reformed theology, liberation theology, and queer theology, as well as open unexpected doors from one to the other. This Reformed theological reader found particular joy in the use of Barth's threefold analysis of sin (as hubris, sloth, and falsehood) in Part II (on the second, convicting use of the law). There, Reichel uses Barth's analysis to point out the impossibility of achieving ‘good’ theology, displaying the truth that ‘method’ (like law) cannot save us (p. 104). By exposing the way in which all theological method is bound up in sin, Reichel frees us to recognize that grace alone – not the law – can save us. In so doing, Reichel also sounds a recurring theme: the good news of total depravity as a ‘comforting idea that binds us together in God's grace rather than separating people by degrees of their righteousness’ (p. 205). This is but one example of how a classical doctrine (sin in this case) brings new life through ‘queer use’. In another unexpected move that sparked a scribbled ‘hallelujah!’ in the margin of my book, Reichel highlights the similarity between Barth's doctrine of election and liberation theologians' ‘opción’ for the marginalized (the Spanish conveying more than the common English translation ‘option’ (see p. 111)). Both election and the ‘opción’ for the marginalized gesture toward God's fundamental commitment to become real, to be with human beings in our messy material reality. Reichel returns to this insight repeatedly, insisting that theology take seriously the full implications of incarnation. Following this line of thought, they go on to suggest that the queer virtues of excessive faithfulness, messy solidarity, and indecent honesty mark the theologically realistic process of ‘becoming real’ – or what classical Reformed theology has called the ‘path of sanctification’. Reichel does not use language of sanctification (perhaps because of the problematic association of ‘holiness’ with notions of moral ‘purity’ and decency), but the familiar image of the path shows up again in their discussion of the third use of the law. In the provocative chapter ‘Cruising, or: the end of redemption and the beginning of ethics’, Reichel affirms Althaus-Reid's image of walking as a metaphor for doing theology, because it portrays theology not as a sedentary activity, but a dynamic movement that connects also with protest marches. Reichel suggests that in the image of walking, we might ‘find theological realism's version of a theologia viatorum: not a dialectical resolution or Aufhebung, not a celebration of movement for movement's sake, but the necessary suspension in concrete motion by a commitment that is ethical as much as it is epistemological’ (p. 159). In the final chapters of the book, Reichel turns to the proposal that, rather than embracing a single method, we practice theology as conceptual design, ‘structuring and reshaping given materials for an intended purpose, discovering and attending to material, agential, contextual, and ecological possibilities and constraints’ (p. 213). Such an approach can attend both to coherence (like systematic theology) and context (like constructive theology), drawing on the concepts available at any given time to develop theologies that witness more faithfully to the reality of God, who is always beyond our theological concepts. My only (minor) criticism of this book is that Reichel deferred the discussion about ‘conceptual design’ until Chapter 8. While this term appears in the introduction, and while some terms related to design theory surface early on, substantive discussion and definitions do not appear until page 182. I wonder: could this have come earlier or could footnotes (or hyperlinks) lead an eager reader to the later discussions to stave off bewilderment? For readers like myself who come with no prior familiarity with this field or its terminology (such as ‘affordances’), it will be necessary to practice patience until the fullness of the argument becomes clear in the final chapter. I never thought that a book on theological method could bring so many chuckles of joy and so many shouts of ‘amen’. From now on, when I enter the theology classroom, I will take this motto with me: ‘What if we gave up the aspiration of saving theology or justifying its endeavor, and instead (at the risk of sounding naïve and pious), we sought for ways of using it that furthered love of God and love of neighbor?’ (pp. 165–6).