Why is the Church with a capital C across Catholic and Protestant reluctant to innovate? Does it resemble destabilization or a betrayal of something powerful, perceived as divine truth?
Throughout history, the Church has regarded “change” as disquieting and even idolatrous. This posture assumes what the Church has already discerned contains all the truth there is ever to discover, eternal and unchanging. Yet this world that the divine has created shifts at a pace we can hardly comprehend, becoming growingly more incompatible with some of these eternal truths set in stone by the institution. The world in flux calls for responsive innovation.
With the expanded concept of agency and dignity, the demands of our time outpace existing theological frameworks of many congregations around the globe. We often imagine the Church as a unified body, but it has never been monolithic. From its earliest days, it has represented rays of perspectives, shaped by tension and transformation, inclusion and exclusion. In our post-Enlightenment, postwar era, we are faced with further multiplied plurality: Catholic and Protestant, Orthodox and Pentecostal, complementarian and egalitarian, queer-affirming and not, plus more in between.
A number of denominations delayed responding to the demands where the human rights convention[1] confronted entrenched Christian dogma; e.g. participation of women in leadership roles including ordination, same-sex marriage, and nonbinary members of religious communities and the greater society.
This internal complexity should not be seen as a weakness, but a witness. The question is not whether the Church must change, but in which direction. Before we attempt to answer such question, we need to first do an honest assessment of the realities by listening to those who have been suppressed within and beyond the Church.
Should we define these emerging realities as heretical as subjugated knowledges to be dismissed, permitting history to repeat itself?[2] Or could we pause the polemical impulse and ask ourselves, “Do I, as a person of faith, have the grace to truly hear the voices left outside the spotlight with compassion?”
Lay theology, public theology, and elite theology arrive from various facets of life. While theology is often crafted in the academy and the pulpit, it belongs just as much to the people in the pews, at protests, and around dinner tables. For centuries, however, elite theology, confessional or secular, has been primarily eurocentric and male-dominated, claiming authority over Christian imagination and acting as the “agents of reception.”[3] This meant that the perspectives of less equitable demographics were systemically shunned.
An undeniable pattern of many theologies that are normalized as tradition is that they were once perceived antithetical, labeled as heresies. In the first few centuries CE, Christianity itself as a radical Jewish movement, was deemed heretical by religious authorities. Then came the Reformation, fiercely contested, condemned at the cost of numerous lives, then eventually institutionalized. What then, might we ask, are the heresies of today? How long will they remain labeled as such?
For over two thousand years, Christian elites have resisted subjugated theologies, faith expressions that arise from non-normative groups within the Church or at the borderlines of faiths, including secular worldviews construed as faith. Such expressions consistently challenged the responsibility of critical reflection. Foucault reminds us that it is these very unconventional perspectives that make critique possible.[4] These voices ask different questions, birthed from experiences of exclusion, resistance, and survival, often neglected in dominant discourse. Today, they expose hard issues regarding gender, sexuality, race, the body, and most importantly, belonging—revealing limitations of the current religious discourse that fail to serve dignity of all of humanity.
The thought of “change” stirs up much anxiety in the contemporary milieu of Christian theology. Some may feel provoked, offended, defensive, or even self-righteous. It can feel like losing control of the cultural dominance traditional Christian norms once held. But truly, isn’t the core of Christian faith to love, not to dominate, our neighbors and also enemies? What might such testimony of faith require of us in this age?
Innovation is not a call to disregard tradition, but to lean into the rising unfamiliarity within our vicinity. Tradition can thrive alongside innovation when we recognize that it is not something dead or static, but alive. And what is living grows and renews itself—not to betray God, but precisely because that life comes from God.
Among examples of tradition and innovation working collaboratively is the Church of Sweden, where they are integrated as mutual participants in praxis.[5] Several other traditionally national churches in Northern Europe exhibit a comparable orientation, indicating that such integration represents not an isolated phenomenon but part of a broader ecclesial movement. I hope to share more realities of church life in this sphere in future postings.
Perhaps we can begin with curiosity, listening to understand what had been undermined. This is not about leniency, but clarity. Why were particular voices excluded in the first place? Fear of the unknown, coupled with imagination, justifies the rushed pursuit of counterfeit peace where those voices become suppressed without consent.
If faith is the assurance of things unseen, this very uncertainty could lead us deeper into faith. Tradition and innovation, in their co-creation, can give rise to the guardians of what has been and witnesses of what is emerging. This current invites us to turn toward what was muted, not because it was irrelevant, but because we were not yet ready to accept the evidence of the vibrant humanity.
[1] United Nations, Universal Declaration of Human Rights, https://www.un.org/en/about-us/universal-declaration-of-human-rights.
[2] On “subjugated knowledges,” see Michel Foucault, Society Must be Defended (London: Penguin Books, 2003), 7f.
[3] Richard Pleijel, “Resisting Wirkungsgeschichte: Bible Translators as Agents of Reception,” Journal of the Bible and its Reception 12, no. 1 (2025), https://doi.org/10.1515/jbr-2023-0021.
[4] Foucault, Society, 6-11.
[5] Svenska kyrkan, Reflektion om bildning i Svenska kyrkans sammanhang [Reflection on Education in the Context of the Church of Sweden] (Uppsala: Svenska kyrkan, 2021).
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