"Priggishness" is an excessive or self-righteous adherence to propriety, moral correctness, or social conventions, often in a way that comes across as smug, prudish, or overly rigid. A priggish person tends to judge others harshly for not following their standards of behavior, appearing narrow-minded or lacking in warmth and flexibility.
Open and relational theology is, to my mind, non-priggish. Part of its openness is a gentle acceptance of ourselves and others in our gorgeous finitude, We can laugh with others and laugh at ourselves. We can dance and sing, and sometimes go a little crazy. We don't have to be "perfect' in order to be loved by God or by others, and others don't need to be 'perfect,' either. We are saved by faith in a God of love, who is, as Whitehead put it, "a little oblivious as to morals." Here's how Whitehead puts it in Process and Reality:
Love neither rules, nor is it unmoved; also it is a little oblivious as to morals. It does not look to the future; for it finds its own reward in the immediate present.
Here's the good news. We can, if we wish, go to theology beer camps.
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I mention theology beer camps because, indeed, a certain sector of Christians is drawn to theology pubs in their local settings or, as offered by Homebrewed Christianity, a theology beer camp. I attended one such camp in 2024, and it was one of the most enjoyable, theologically alive, and multi-generational forums I have ever experienced. I didn’t drink a drop, but I enjoyed the coffee, the friendships, the talks, the music (especially the music!), the relaxed atmosphere, the new ideas, and the fun. It was carnivalesque in spirit—or, as you might say, Falstaffian. I claimed my inner Falstaff in a beer-less way.
Sir John Falstaff, you may recall, is one of Shakespeare’s most beloved and larger-than-life characters, a boisterous, witty, and delightfully irreverent knight who values pleasure over propriety. He appears in several plays, including, and perhaps most notably, Henry IV, Part I. He is a master of wordplay, a lover of ale, and a shameless rogue who mocks authority, embraces indulgence, and turns life into a grand, improvisational performance. Though often cowardly and self-serving, Falstaff exudes a deep, almost philosophical joy—revealing that wisdom is not always found in seriousness, but sometimes in laughter, excess, and the art of living fully. He gives us fresh eyes for theology beer camps and related "theology pubs."
A Celebration of Embodied Joy – Falstaff relishes life’s physical pleasures, from ale to laughter. Beer camps symbolize a theology that embraces the goodness of embodiment—good drink, good food, and good company—as part of a sacred, celebratory existence.
The Art of Witty Banter – Falstaff is a master of wordplay, turning conversation into a playful, often mischievous art. Theological beer camps evoke this same spirit—spirited debates, theological puns, and lively discussions where intellect meets humor.
Rejection of Priggishness – Falstaff mocks self-seriousness and moral rigidity. The idea of a theological beer camp resists overly pious, humorless theology, suggesting a faith that is joyful, honest, and willing to laugh at itself.
A Safe Haven for Theological Rogues – Just as Falstaff attracts misfits and merrymakers, a theological beer camp gathers thinkers who don’t quite fit into traditional religious spaces—people who take theology seriously but not themselves.
Theology in the Pub, Not the Tower – Falstaff’s world is the Boar’s Head Tavern, not the royal court. Likewise, a beer camp suggests theology done in relaxed, real-world settings—pubs, campfires, and back porches—rather than the stiff formality of academia.
A Love of Improvisation – Falstaff thrives on improvisation, spinning stories and shifting tactics on the fly. Theological beer camps, especially those influenced by process thought, revel in open-ended, evolving conversations rather than rigid doctrinal formulas.
Resistance to Authority (But Not to Wisdom) – Falstaff mocks kingship, just as beer camp theologians critique rigid dogma and top-down religious authority. Yet both still seek wisdom—just in less pretentious ways.
Hospitality as a Theological Act – Falstaff always makes room for more revelers. The idea of a theological beer camp suggests this same spirit—pulling up a chair, offering a pint (or a coffee), and creating spaces of radical welcome.
A Theology of Abundance – Falstaff believes in an abundant, overflowing life, not a stingy, ascetic one. The phrase "theological beer camp" suggests a faith that sees grace, love, and even beer as gifts to be enjoyed rather than feared.
Honesty About Human Frailty – Falstaff is deeply flawed, but he never pretends otherwise. Theological beer camps symbolize spaces where theologians can be honest about their own doubts, struggles, and imperfections—where authenticity matters more than appearances.
The Subversive Power of Laughter – Both Falstaff and theological beer camps recognize that laughter can be a form of resistance. In the face of oppressive systems, fundamentalism, and rigidity, humor keeps the soul alive and theology fresh.
Living Theology, Not Just Talking About It – Falstaff doesn’t just theorize about life; he lives it (sometimes to excess). The phrase "theological beer camp" suggests a theology that is not merely academic but embodied—lived out in community, in conversation, and over a shared drink.
A Joyful Rebellion
Beer Camps as Acts of Resistance
A theological beer camp or theology pub is more than just a space for laughter, good conversation, and a well-poured pint—it is also an act of resistance. Not only does it push back against priggish forms of religion that reduce faith to rigid moralism and joylessness, but it also subtly defies political and institutional powers that seek to control thought, behavior, and even the body itself.
Resistance to Religious Rigidity – Many people who gravitate toward beer camps have been shaped by religious traditions that overemphasized righteousness and obedience while downplaying joy, embodiment, and communal celebration. A theology pub resists this narrow vision by affirming that faith is lived, felt, and shared—not just believed in a detached, disembodied way. It says that laughter is sacred, pleasure is not sinful, and the body is not a burden but a gift.
Defying Political and Institutional Power – Falstaff does not take kings too seriously. His irreverence is a form of rebellion, mocking the solemnity of authority and exposing the absurdities of power. Likewise, theological beer camps resist the idea that theology must serve the interests of empire, nationalism, or authoritarian control. They are spaces where faith is freed from its entanglements with coercion and instead becomes a practice of mutuality, justice, and subversive joy.
A Space for Unfiltered Thought – Institutions of power—whether religious or political—often discourage free, open-ended, and boundary-pushing conversations. Theological beer camps create space for precisely this kind of thinking, where people can challenge oppressive dogmas, deconstruct harmful ideologies, and imagine new ways of being faithful in the world.
The Table as a Radical Space – In many religious traditions, sharing a meal or a drink is a sacred act of hospitality. Jesus himself dined with outcasts and sinners, upsetting the religious and political elites of his time. A theology pub follows in this tradition—it reclaims the table (or the bar) as a place of inclusion, not exclusion; of belonging, not hierarchy.
Improvisation as Liberation – Just as Falstaff is an improviser, evading capture and reinventing himself constantly, theological beer camps embrace improvisation in theology. They refuse to be boxed into rigid categories of belief, practice, or affiliation. In doing so, they mirror a deeper theological truth: that faith is a process, always evolving, never fully settled.
In short, a theology beer camp is a joyful rebellion—a place where people can think freely, live fully, and refuse to let either religious legalism or political control dictate the shape of their faith. It is a space where the sacred and the playful, the critical and the celebratory, the serious and the lighthearted, all come together in one great conversation—perhaps with a pint in hand.
