Catherine Keller’s Face of the Deep: A Theology
of Becoming is a groundbreaking work of constructive theology that
reimagines the doctrine of creation through the lens of biblical exegesis,
process theology, feminist thought, poststructuralist philosophy, and
ecological awareness. The book takes as its central text the opening verses of
Genesis—particularly the enigmatic image of the tehom, the deep, watery
chaos that precedes God’s creative act. Rather than interpreting the creation
story as a linear narrative of divine imposition of order over a hostile chaos,
Keller engages the text in its poetic and multivalent complexity, revealing the
deep as a site of divine creativity, relationality, and ongoing becoming. She
seeks to unsettle the theological tradition that has often portrayed creation
in terms of ex nihilo, or creation out of nothing, preferring instead a vision
that affirms creation as emerging from a fecund depth that is neither
nothingness nor evil, but a generative source.
Keller begins by situating her project within the
broader history of Christian theology and its treatment of Genesis 1:2. She
notes that the traditional interpretation—solidified in early church theology
and classical metaphysics—frames tehom as an inert or threatening
formlessness that must be subdued by divine fiat. This reading, she argues,
aligns with patriarchal and imperial logics that prize control, domination, and
hierarchical order over relational dynamism. By recovering the Hebrew text and
exploring its resonances with ancient Near Eastern myths of primordial waters,
Keller reopens the possibility of reading the deep not as an adversary but as a
partner in creation. She emphasizes that tehom is not personified in
Genesis, unlike the combat myths of Babylonian or Canaanite traditions,
suggesting a more intimate, cooperative relationship between God and the deep.
Central to Keller’s argument is the reconfiguration
of creation as creatio ex profundis—creation out of the deep—rather than
creatio ex nihilo. This shift allows her to envision God’s creative act
not as a one-time event that eradicates chaos, but as an ongoing process of
ordering and reordering in relationship with the depths of potentiality. This
interpretation is deeply informed by process theology, particularly the thought
of Alfred North Whitehead, for whom reality is constituted by events of
becoming, each shaped by the interplay of novelty and order. Keller adapts this
metaphysical vision to the biblical context, portraying God not as an
omnipotent sovereign imposing fixed order but as the lure toward relational
complexity, beauty, and justice.
Keller’s reading is also shaped by feminist
theology, which challenges the association of formlessness and fluidity with
disorder, weakness, or femininity. She points out how Western metaphysics has
often constructed a binary opposition between the stable, rational, masculine
principle and the chaotic, bodily, feminine other. In revaluing the deep,
Keller resists this dichotomy, affirming fluidity and openness as integral to
the creative process. Her theological poetics embraces ambiguity, multiplicity,
and interdependence, refusing the impulse to foreclose meaning in favor of
rigid systematic closure. This makes her work not only a reimagining of creation
theology but also a critique of the epistemological and political structures
that have supported exclusionary forms of order.
Interweaving biblical scholarship with literary and
philosophical resources, Keller draws from figures like Jacques Derrida, Gilles
Deleuze, and Luce Irigaray to deepen her engagement with the themes of
difference, relationality, and becoming. Derrida’s deconstruction informs her
resistance to totalizing accounts of creation that erase the traces of the
deep; Deleuze’s philosophy of difference and becoming resonates with her
portrayal of creation as an open-ended process; Irigaray’s work on sexual
difference and the fluid metaphors of feminine subjectivity help Keller reclaim
water as a theological symbol beyond domination. These interlocutors allow her
to craft a theology that is dialogical and porous, attentive to the limits of
human language and the mystery that exceeds conceptual grasp.
The image of the deep also becomes, for Keller, a
way to address ecological concerns. She reads tehom as a reminder of the
Earth’s watery origins and the interconnectedness of all life. This ecological
dimension critiques anthropocentric theologies that view creation solely in
terms of human dominion and control. Instead, Keller’s theology invites a
posture of humility and reciprocity toward the nonhuman world, recognizing that
creation’s flourishing depends on honoring its relational depth. The deep is
thus both a cosmic and ecological symbol, encompassing the generative matrix of
life and the mystery of its ongoing transformation.
Keller’s approach to Genesis resists the temptation
to read the text as a simple blueprint of the universe’s origins. Instead, she
treats it as a theological-poetic narrative that speaks to the patterns of
God’s relation to the world across time. This hermeneutic opens space for
thinking about creation not as a completed past event but as a present and
future reality. The Spirit hovering over the deep becomes a figure for God’s
continual engagement with the possibilities latent in the world’s depths. This
image encourages an eschatology that is not escapist or triumphalist but
grounded in the ongoing transformation of the world toward greater justice and
beauty.
A significant theological move in Face of the
Deep is Keller’s rethinking of divine omnipotence. She challenges the model
of God as a unilateral cause who determines all outcomes, instead emphasizing
God’s persuasive power. This relational power works through attraction,
invitation, and response rather than coercion. Such a vision reframes the
problem of evil: if creation is an open process involving real freedom and
novelty, then chaos and suffering are not simply defects to be eliminated but
conditions of possibility for genuine becoming. God’s role is to draw creation
toward its fullest potential, not to override the autonomy of creatures or the
generative unpredictability of the deep.
Keller also engages the mystical tradition,
particularly the apophatic strand that speaks of God as the ungraspable mystery
beyond all names. In this light, the deep becomes a metaphor for the divine
unknowability that underlies and sustains all reality. This mystical dimension
resonates with her poststructuralist influences, where meaning is never
exhausted and reality always exceeds the conceptual frameworks we impose. The
interplay of light and darkness in the creation narrative becomes, for Keller,
a symbol of the tension between the revealed and the hidden in God’s relation
to the world.
Throughout the work, Keller’s style is marked by a
poetic and allusive quality that mirrors her subject matter. She refuses to
resolve tensions prematurely, instead inviting readers into a contemplative
engagement with the text and its theological implications. Her theology is
performative as much as propositional, modeling a way of thinking that is
itself fluid, relational, and responsive to the deep. This style embodies her
conviction that theology must be attentive to the multiplicity and complexity
of reality, resisting the impulse to reduce it to a singular, closed system.
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