Being a formerly "conservative" evangelical myself, I take special interest in the tendencies of the growing tribe of mostly young white males who have the same, or a similar, history. Many call themselves "emergents," which indicates the narrative they like to tell about themselves: they "emerged" from something, and are, perhaps, still moving away from it; but to what?
The problem, it seems to me, is that what they typically take with them from conservative evangelicalism (hereafter "CE") is as important, if not more so, than what they leave behind. And these aspects of CE are not, in my view, positive aspects. Their new found liberalism rests on a very similar foundation to their old conservatism.
This foundation has three interconnected aspects. The first aspect shared in common between both CE and this "emerging" liberal evangelicalism (hereafter "LE") is anti-intellectualism. This claim will, no doubt, be surprising to many, since often the favored claim or assumption is that the "emergence" is based, in part at least, on a new openness to, and acquisition of, scholarly and scientific knowledge. However, I think the tendency toward anti-intellectualism is still prevalent even in and beyond this emergence. To explain this, it is necessary to distinguish between two similar types of anti-intellectualism. The first, obviously more prevalent in conservative circles (including CE) is the "I don't need no book larnin'!" type. Adherents of this type take pride in not being one of those stuffy intellectual types, openly or secretly relishing in the belief that knowledge, so sought-after by these intellectuals, is actually gained by the simple-minded wisdom they themselves exhibit. But there is a second type of anti-intellectualism, more subtle but nonetheless real. Adherents of this type like to pride themselves on joining the ranks of the intelligentsia--or perhaps only wisely appropriating the results of their efforts--without having to do any difficult work themselves. They read one book and presume suddenly to know what "the experts" or "scholars" think about a topic. Never mind that there may be significant disagreements even among the experts. Never mind that the position taken by the author of the book in question may be a minority opinion in the guild.
Both types of anti-intellectualism are basically forms of pride. This is why questioning the knowledge of either type of evangelical will get the same sort of huffy response. Not, "Oh, that's interesting; I haven't thought about that!" Rather, you get, "What do you know anyway?" Here we arrive at the second, related common aspect of CE and LE: a supremely self-confident bravado toward just about any kind of subject matter. Like all of us, they come to a subject matter with presuppositions. What sets them apart is the fact that no amount of investigation can get them to question these presuppositions in any depth. Granted, when an adherent to CE moves toward LE, some, at least, of the presuppositions do change, and undoubtedly this happens in connection with some measure of encounter with the subject matter or thought about it. But in general, this tends to happen at a very shallow level. Again, reading one book might overthrow an entire worldview and replace it with another. What they can't stand is the difficult, painful process of re-thinking a particular topic and its relation to their whole way of thinking in an integrative manner. So they "convert" quickly from one to the other (usually from CE to LE), so as not to have to spend any significant time studying or asking any questions.
Finally, there is the aspect (again, deeply related to the other two) of tending toward membership in one or another "in" group. Let's not be too hard on this tendency; after all, converting away from CE often involves many difficulties with parents, other family members, and/or friends. CE is often found in its own kind of in groups, forming quite unhealthy levels of enforced conformity. As bad as this is, it seems to be somewhat addictive. Finding another such group is understandably a felt need when one breaks with one of them. In these groups, one rarely or never has to question one's presuppositions, or to tolerate it when someone else questions them. The group feeds off of and reinforces the aforementioned bravado. After all, when all of one's peers think the same thing, then why look into the matter any more? And this brings us back to anti-intellectualism. This final tendency is well-illustrated by this joke:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_cGB7RnjdLI
What CE and LE have in common, in summary, is a tendency to think about the doctrines of the faith, not with them. It is their underlying, unquestioned, liberal or conservative ideology which constitutes the perspective from which they consider the Christian faith. Admittedly, adherents of LE do seem to realize this to some extent. Formerly, as adherents of CE, they had thought that their way of thinking simply was Christianity, read more or less directly from the Bible. Moving toward LE, they find that this is not the case. But what to do once this realization comes? Simply reject CE (in favor of....?), because it is unaware of its own contingency? But this, it seems to me, is no solution, just a (probably partial) recognition of the problem. A solution can only be found in sustained confrontation with the subject matter of the faith, in such a way as to discover not only its superficial contents but also its deeper, underlying unity. But to do this would mean to reject CE at a much deeper level than "emergents" typically wish to reject it. It means committing oneself to the hard intellectual work, with patience and humility, and in such a way as to require that one learn to be in conflicted and conflictual community with others.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Action and Reflection
Though this is ultimately a blog about Christian radical politics, we have been spending a lot of time so far on conceptual issues, and will continue to do so. This brief post will explain why we think this is a necessary task, and how we perceive this task.
It is common in left-leaning circles, theological or non, to insist that action is primary, with reflection coming afterward and leading back to action. In this view, presumably, right action is something we know about a priori, and reflection is to be understood and judged based on this already existing knowledge. Jesus' statement that "you will know them by their fruit" (cf. Matt. 7:16) is taken as confirmation of this view.
Along these lines, one never ceases to hear complaints about Karl Barth's theology that charge this "Red Pastor of Safenwil" with being too conceptual and not practical enough in his ethics (for a recent example, see here).
Finally, it is common today to find theologians espousing what has been called "strategic essentialism" on issues of sex and race. This method, while accepting the philosophical criticism of all "essentialisms," nevertheless makes use of essentialist thinking to advance (what is thought to be) liberating practice.
However, I think it not only possible but preferable to problematize, if not completely reverse this ordering. Reflection (theory, etc.), it seems clear to me, accompanies, if it does not always preexist, all action worthy of the name. Of course, in our individual and corporate lives we tend to do a lot of things without thinking about them critically, from bodily functions such as breathing, to the use of language and symbols, to a whole host of more or less significant activities like engaging in commerce and the arts. But is this the kind of "action" that accords with liberation? I think not. Rather, that kind of action is done under a conscious interpretation, some sort of reflective construal of events and their significance.
Admittedly, and as a matter of simple fact, we are always already acting in our social lives under an interpretation, whether we are aware of it or not. But that would make the presciptive call to begin with action unnecessary. What is needed is always careful and perspicacious reflection. Only then can true action take place.
This is by no means to demean or belittle action, nor is it to minimize its importance or make it unnecessary. Rather, it understands action in such a way that reflection cannot be minimized or made unnecessary.
In the case of Barth, he was active in leftist politics before he was a professional theologian. The case of the philosopher Badiou is very similar: he, too, has been involved in political action about as long as he has been a philosopher. In both cases, these thinkers recognized more and more in their work that reflection and theory are absolutely necessary tasks to be undertaken in their own right. Otherwise, we lack the tools to see how it is that action so often goes astray, and we begin to lose any self-critical consciousness of our own goals and methods.
The Christian faith, interestingly enough, is in my view an idea about an action, specifically the action of God in Christ reconciling the world to himself. But even this action was done under an interpretation; it was a willfully chosen act. Here I think one can split the difference, as it were, between Hegelian and more traditional theology (for a discussion, see here). Hegelian theology sees the second person of the Trinity as the man Jesus, simply. Traditional theology sees the divine Son not only in the man Jesus (the logos incarnantus) but also always standing behind and to be understood in abstraction from the life of this man (the logos asarkos, defined as that which is neither incarnatus nor incarnandus). The middle way, and preferable to both of these alternatives, is to see the divine Son as always incarnandus. That means the divine Son as God's Word to the world is completely given in God's act of reconciliation in the man Jesus, but never to be reduced to this man. The Word is only in the humanity, relating to it in a way that is analogous (and more than analogous) to the relation between text and interpretation.
If, on the other hand, we think action is to be taken as absolutely primary, the inevitable result, I think, is that we assume a certain interpretation of events that will control both the action and the subsequent reflection, and never in such a way that it can be self-critical. I see this again and again in political and religious discussions. It is always assumed that what "we" (Americans, Presbyterians, etc.) did in the (recent or distant) past was obviously the right thing to do, so that further action must always be along the same lines and done under the same interpretation. Unfortunately, what appears again and again in these discussions is a battle over who gets to interpret the interpretation; that is, all seem eager to foist onto the past their preferred interpretation for the present and future. So whether we like it or not, we are always brought back to reflection.
Therefore we will continue on this blog to deal with the conceptual framework in its own right, working from that to the actions, political and otherwise, that are called for by that framework.
It is common in left-leaning circles, theological or non, to insist that action is primary, with reflection coming afterward and leading back to action. In this view, presumably, right action is something we know about a priori, and reflection is to be understood and judged based on this already existing knowledge. Jesus' statement that "you will know them by their fruit" (cf. Matt. 7:16) is taken as confirmation of this view.
Along these lines, one never ceases to hear complaints about Karl Barth's theology that charge this "Red Pastor of Safenwil" with being too conceptual and not practical enough in his ethics (for a recent example, see here).
Finally, it is common today to find theologians espousing what has been called "strategic essentialism" on issues of sex and race. This method, while accepting the philosophical criticism of all "essentialisms," nevertheless makes use of essentialist thinking to advance (what is thought to be) liberating practice.
However, I think it not only possible but preferable to problematize, if not completely reverse this ordering. Reflection (theory, etc.), it seems clear to me, accompanies, if it does not always preexist, all action worthy of the name. Of course, in our individual and corporate lives we tend to do a lot of things without thinking about them critically, from bodily functions such as breathing, to the use of language and symbols, to a whole host of more or less significant activities like engaging in commerce and the arts. But is this the kind of "action" that accords with liberation? I think not. Rather, that kind of action is done under a conscious interpretation, some sort of reflective construal of events and their significance.
Admittedly, and as a matter of simple fact, we are always already acting in our social lives under an interpretation, whether we are aware of it or not. But that would make the presciptive call to begin with action unnecessary. What is needed is always careful and perspicacious reflection. Only then can true action take place.
This is by no means to demean or belittle action, nor is it to minimize its importance or make it unnecessary. Rather, it understands action in such a way that reflection cannot be minimized or made unnecessary.
In the case of Barth, he was active in leftist politics before he was a professional theologian. The case of the philosopher Badiou is very similar: he, too, has been involved in political action about as long as he has been a philosopher. In both cases, these thinkers recognized more and more in their work that reflection and theory are absolutely necessary tasks to be undertaken in their own right. Otherwise, we lack the tools to see how it is that action so often goes astray, and we begin to lose any self-critical consciousness of our own goals and methods.
The Christian faith, interestingly enough, is in my view an idea about an action, specifically the action of God in Christ reconciling the world to himself. But even this action was done under an interpretation; it was a willfully chosen act. Here I think one can split the difference, as it were, between Hegelian and more traditional theology (for a discussion, see here). Hegelian theology sees the second person of the Trinity as the man Jesus, simply. Traditional theology sees the divine Son not only in the man Jesus (the logos incarnantus) but also always standing behind and to be understood in abstraction from the life of this man (the logos asarkos, defined as that which is neither incarnatus nor incarnandus). The middle way, and preferable to both of these alternatives, is to see the divine Son as always incarnandus. That means the divine Son as God's Word to the world is completely given in God's act of reconciliation in the man Jesus, but never to be reduced to this man. The Word is only in the humanity, relating to it in a way that is analogous (and more than analogous) to the relation between text and interpretation.
If, on the other hand, we think action is to be taken as absolutely primary, the inevitable result, I think, is that we assume a certain interpretation of events that will control both the action and the subsequent reflection, and never in such a way that it can be self-critical. I see this again and again in political and religious discussions. It is always assumed that what "we" (Americans, Presbyterians, etc.) did in the (recent or distant) past was obviously the right thing to do, so that further action must always be along the same lines and done under the same interpretation. Unfortunately, what appears again and again in these discussions is a battle over who gets to interpret the interpretation; that is, all seem eager to foist onto the past their preferred interpretation for the present and future. So whether we like it or not, we are always brought back to reflection.
Therefore we will continue on this blog to deal with the conceptual framework in its own right, working from that to the actions, political and otherwise, that are called for by that framework.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Radicalism and the Idea
I have been engaging in a discussion over at Clavi non defixi. The author, in a post, brings up an old, particularly German tradition of thought that sought after the essence of Christianity, sometimes finding it to be an idea, only to at least minimize its contemporary relevance. I thought at first he was against "essentialism" as such, but in the discussion he clarified that he did not think the search for essence was wrong-headed, just the equation of the essence with an idea.
It is our contention here that part, if not the lion's share, of the contemporary Church's problems lies precisely in a facile dismissal of the task of articulating just such an "essence" of Christianity, particularly as an idea. As we suggested in the previous post, this problem affects both the evangelical/fundamentalist "right" and the liberal/postmodern "left." On the right, the assumption is that the Bible and/or the Church's tradition is to be accepted uncritically, without any necessity of understanding (and therefore being able to criticise) what deeper assumptions, arguments, principles, and the like may have caused the tradition to be what it is. On the left, the mere, factual diversity of viewpoints and opinions, old and new, is thought to be the inescapable matrix within which we constantly have to (or get to) renegotiate what we think and who we are as the Church. In both cases, no attempt is made to articulate the essence of the faith in such a way that new understandings can actually be judged as better, other than by the mere fact of them being new.
Obviously, there are problematic kinds of "essentialism." The question is whether that means the way forward is giving up on the question of truth and remaining at the level of opinions. The wager of this blog is that this is not the case.
The "essence" of Christianity cannot be the Bible or orthodoxy or any specific tradition. Clearly all of these things contain contradictions within them, some more significant than others. That means articulating that essence must be an ongoing, critical and constructive task. The right seems to accept that the task should be critical, without accepting that it must be ongoing. The left seems to accept it must be ongoing, but fails to see how it must be critical. Neither side accepts that it must be constructive. We are talking in generalities here, but precisely in general these things seem to hold true.
So what is the idea of Christianity? My hypothesis is that it is the idea of God's reconciling act in Jesus Christ. Three points will help to show how this is one idea: (1) following Karl Barth's actualism, we insist that the being of God and of humanity is found only in this act, not in some static essence lying behind it, (2) following Barth's understanding of election, as Bruce McCormack has explained it, we insist that this act in time, by an eternal divine decision, "constitutes" God's triune being such that there is nothing behind or before the decision for this act, and (3) because this act is a purposeful act, done under an interpretation, there is no room for interpretive arbitrariness on our part. It is an idea in action, and thus our ideas about it are appropriate, and can, as it were, participate in its singularity.
Obviously, in this format we cannot explain or defend all of this comprehensively. Nevertheless, it seems possible to see this articulation as the "essence," or, if you will, the "subject matter" of the Bible and of orthodox theology. Obviously this reading is constructive and critical. Particularly with regard to the orthodox tradition, it leaves behind the doctrine of impassibility. However, as McCormack has shown, it is possible to see some inherent difficulties and contradictions within the Chalcedonian formula and tradition which are helped by this reading. The assumption is that there is a subject matter about which the tradition tried to speak, and did so with relative success.
With regard to the Bible, do we not find a critical and constructive Biblical hermeneutic within scripture itself? The New Testament includes, and in many senses is an interpretation of the Old Testament. But it is obviously a critical and constructive hermeneutic; Jesus Christ is, in a way that often seems shameless to us, simply read into the Old Testament texts. Paul defends this hermeneutic explicitly in 2 Corinthians 3, insisting that one must lift the "veil" over the Old Testament by turning--not to the New Testament--but to "Christ." We are saying the same thing about the New Testament, the Bible as a whole, and the theological tradition. Christ is hermeneutical key, the subject matter, and the essence of these things. If you do not deal with this subject matter, a veil of incomprehension will blind you to what these things are really "about."
As we may explain in more detail in later posts, it seems possible to articulate all Christian doctrines as "categories" (to use a term of Sylvain Lazarus and Alain Badiou) of the one truth of God's reconciling act in Christ. That is, they are not independent ideas, but merely ways of understanding the one idea. Obviously Christology, and, through election, trinitarian doctrine, are included in that. As we will repeat again and again, it is particularly important, given both traditional and modern difficulties, to insist that the doctrine of creation be understood this way (i.e., not independently).
Because all doctrines are categories of this one truth, it is not necessary to appeal to any authoritarian sources which purport to speak about the subject matter of the faith as if from outside of it. Rather, the one truth speaks for itself.
All of the theological and ecclesial squabbles going on right now will never make one tiny step of progress until and unless the debate becomes an earnest inquiry into the subject matter of faith.
It is our contention here that part, if not the lion's share, of the contemporary Church's problems lies precisely in a facile dismissal of the task of articulating just such an "essence" of Christianity, particularly as an idea. As we suggested in the previous post, this problem affects both the evangelical/fundamentalist "right" and the liberal/postmodern "left." On the right, the assumption is that the Bible and/or the Church's tradition is to be accepted uncritically, without any necessity of understanding (and therefore being able to criticise) what deeper assumptions, arguments, principles, and the like may have caused the tradition to be what it is. On the left, the mere, factual diversity of viewpoints and opinions, old and new, is thought to be the inescapable matrix within which we constantly have to (or get to) renegotiate what we think and who we are as the Church. In both cases, no attempt is made to articulate the essence of the faith in such a way that new understandings can actually be judged as better, other than by the mere fact of them being new.
Obviously, there are problematic kinds of "essentialism." The question is whether that means the way forward is giving up on the question of truth and remaining at the level of opinions. The wager of this blog is that this is not the case.
The "essence" of Christianity cannot be the Bible or orthodoxy or any specific tradition. Clearly all of these things contain contradictions within them, some more significant than others. That means articulating that essence must be an ongoing, critical and constructive task. The right seems to accept that the task should be critical, without accepting that it must be ongoing. The left seems to accept it must be ongoing, but fails to see how it must be critical. Neither side accepts that it must be constructive. We are talking in generalities here, but precisely in general these things seem to hold true.
So what is the idea of Christianity? My hypothesis is that it is the idea of God's reconciling act in Jesus Christ. Three points will help to show how this is one idea: (1) following Karl Barth's actualism, we insist that the being of God and of humanity is found only in this act, not in some static essence lying behind it, (2) following Barth's understanding of election, as Bruce McCormack has explained it, we insist that this act in time, by an eternal divine decision, "constitutes" God's triune being such that there is nothing behind or before the decision for this act, and (3) because this act is a purposeful act, done under an interpretation, there is no room for interpretive arbitrariness on our part. It is an idea in action, and thus our ideas about it are appropriate, and can, as it were, participate in its singularity.
Obviously, in this format we cannot explain or defend all of this comprehensively. Nevertheless, it seems possible to see this articulation as the "essence," or, if you will, the "subject matter" of the Bible and of orthodox theology. Obviously this reading is constructive and critical. Particularly with regard to the orthodox tradition, it leaves behind the doctrine of impassibility. However, as McCormack has shown, it is possible to see some inherent difficulties and contradictions within the Chalcedonian formula and tradition which are helped by this reading. The assumption is that there is a subject matter about which the tradition tried to speak, and did so with relative success.
With regard to the Bible, do we not find a critical and constructive Biblical hermeneutic within scripture itself? The New Testament includes, and in many senses is an interpretation of the Old Testament. But it is obviously a critical and constructive hermeneutic; Jesus Christ is, in a way that often seems shameless to us, simply read into the Old Testament texts. Paul defends this hermeneutic explicitly in 2 Corinthians 3, insisting that one must lift the "veil" over the Old Testament by turning--not to the New Testament--but to "Christ." We are saying the same thing about the New Testament, the Bible as a whole, and the theological tradition. Christ is hermeneutical key, the subject matter, and the essence of these things. If you do not deal with this subject matter, a veil of incomprehension will blind you to what these things are really "about."
As we may explain in more detail in later posts, it seems possible to articulate all Christian doctrines as "categories" (to use a term of Sylvain Lazarus and Alain Badiou) of the one truth of God's reconciling act in Christ. That is, they are not independent ideas, but merely ways of understanding the one idea. Obviously Christology, and, through election, trinitarian doctrine, are included in that. As we will repeat again and again, it is particularly important, given both traditional and modern difficulties, to insist that the doctrine of creation be understood this way (i.e., not independently).
Because all doctrines are categories of this one truth, it is not necessary to appeal to any authoritarian sources which purport to speak about the subject matter of the faith as if from outside of it. Rather, the one truth speaks for itself.
All of the theological and ecclesial squabbles going on right now will never make one tiny step of progress until and unless the debate becomes an earnest inquiry into the subject matter of faith.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Zizek on multiculturalism, etc.
Check out this article by Slavoj Zizek:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/jan/25/european-union-slovenia
Keep in mind what I said in my first post: radicalism is a form of thought. Zizek is a radical; his work embodies that form. But what is the content of this form, for Zizek? In the comments after the article, this question is raised in not so many words. Some complain that Zizek is not clear on the kind of emancipatory ideal that Europe can come together around. Others complain that Zizek is a closet Christian. Maybe both are true to some extent, besides the possibility of some other (liberal?) content filling out his radicalism. In any case, Zizek's work is invaluable for all radicals, including Christian ones. Therefore we will see many more references to his articles and other work in the future on this site.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/jan/25/european-union-slovenia
Keep in mind what I said in my first post: radicalism is a form of thought. Zizek is a radical; his work embodies that form. But what is the content of this form, for Zizek? In the comments after the article, this question is raised in not so many words. Some complain that Zizek is not clear on the kind of emancipatory ideal that Europe can come together around. Others complain that Zizek is a closet Christian. Maybe both are true to some extent, besides the possibility of some other (liberal?) content filling out his radicalism. In any case, Zizek's work is invaluable for all radicals, including Christian ones. Therefore we will see many more references to his articles and other work in the future on this site.
Wag the Dogma: Opinions, Truth, and Ecclesiolatry
As a self-styled "radical Christian," I find myself fighting what seems to me to be a theological/intellectual disease very deep and prevalent in our contemporary situation, including in the churches. This disease has its heart and origin in the denial, on the one hand, of a subject matter capable of defending itself against the constructive manipulations of ideologies, and on the other, of a subject capable of standing on its own intellectual feet against communitarian embeddedness.
This disease has two dominant forms. The first form insists that because there is no such subject matter and subject, the only solution is to defer absolutely to the opinion of an authoritarian source or some collection of authoritarian sources. The second form of this same disease insists that the solution is to defer to every opinion equally. And anyone who, like myself, refuses one of these solutions is always presumed to be accepting the other one.
It is rather like trying to defend oneself against two tribes of zombies. One tribe angrily yells at you "GIVE ME YOUR BRAINS NOW!" The other asks, pleads, and manipulates, saying, in effect, "If you are a nice person and want to avoid having your brains devoured by the first tribe, just let each of us take a little nibble. If you do not, we will be very hurt and disappointed with you."
In the churches today, one constantly encounters pleas to be "humble" by giving up one's own view and going along with everyone else. No charge is considered more damning than that of "individualism." Individualism is criticized as being "modern," "western," etc. In direct opposition to this, radical Christianity, as I conceive it, is irreducibly individualistic.
First, let's define the term. "Individualism" as I define it does not mean selfishness, a refusal to be in community with others, or the like. Rather, it is a way of being in community, of being in relation to others, and of responsibly acting with and toward one's neighbors. It means being a self, a definite locus of thought and activity. Additionally, it is more of a prescriptive than a descriptive idea. I do not doubt that, as a matter of descriptive fact, everyone finds him- or herself in a community or a nexus of overlapping communities, which bring with them all kinds of assumptions, biases, and so on, not all of which we can resist perfectly, or even be clearly aware of. But a person ought to work to own up to his or her own thoughts and take responsibility for them. In fact, everyone is responsible, in the sense of morally or ethically culpable, for what he or she thinks, regardless of where the idea comes from. At least to an extent, and a significant one at that, taking responsibility for one's own thoughts is possible. That is what I mean by "individualism."
It is my view that, contrary to popular opinion, this kind of individualism is prevalent in the Bible, especially in the New Testament. It is the corrolary of the move, apparent especially in the Apostle Paul's letters, against settled communitarian distinctions that would divide the Church or order it hierarchically. This is how I read the famous "neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free" from Galatians.
This kind of individualism means that each person is responsible for his or her own faith. By no means do I intend here to downplay the role of the Holy Spirit; in fact, this role dovetails nicely with individualism. Because we believe by an act of God in our hearts, we are never bound directly to, nor dependent upon, anyone else for our faith.
Finally, this kind of individualism does not contradict, but actually supports socialist, even communist collectivism. It is because we, as individuals, have our own thoughts, that when our common thoughts agree, we can act in egalitarian unity.
Ecclesiologically, this means that our churches ought to embody this kind of individualist collectivism. We come together, as the Gospel of Matthew puts it, in Jesus' name. In my view, that does not mean we use the name of Jesus as a mere word, void of definitive reference, waiting to be filled in by our opinions. Rather, "in Jesus' name" means according to the truth of God's act and being in the irreducible particularity of the human life, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. In other words, it is our common idea, which each person holds individually, that brings the Church together.
The usual assumption today is quite different. It is often assumed that whenever people are together in an ecclesiological institution, they are duty-bound to hold onto some kind of unity no matter what happens, and no matter how superficial this unity turns out to be. Strangely, perhaps, this idea seems more prevalent in the so-called "left wing" of denominations more than the right wing. But in the final analysis, this move is inherently right wing.
Therefore our determination is to be individuals, not so that we can avoid collective activity, but so that our collective activity, when it happens, will not be superficial but deep and authentic. Doctrine, or ideas, should lead here, not unity for its own sake. Otherwise, the tail is wagging the dogma.
This disease has two dominant forms. The first form insists that because there is no such subject matter and subject, the only solution is to defer absolutely to the opinion of an authoritarian source or some collection of authoritarian sources. The second form of this same disease insists that the solution is to defer to every opinion equally. And anyone who, like myself, refuses one of these solutions is always presumed to be accepting the other one.
It is rather like trying to defend oneself against two tribes of zombies. One tribe angrily yells at you "GIVE ME YOUR BRAINS NOW!" The other asks, pleads, and manipulates, saying, in effect, "If you are a nice person and want to avoid having your brains devoured by the first tribe, just let each of us take a little nibble. If you do not, we will be very hurt and disappointed with you."
In the churches today, one constantly encounters pleas to be "humble" by giving up one's own view and going along with everyone else. No charge is considered more damning than that of "individualism." Individualism is criticized as being "modern," "western," etc. In direct opposition to this, radical Christianity, as I conceive it, is irreducibly individualistic.
First, let's define the term. "Individualism" as I define it does not mean selfishness, a refusal to be in community with others, or the like. Rather, it is a way of being in community, of being in relation to others, and of responsibly acting with and toward one's neighbors. It means being a self, a definite locus of thought and activity. Additionally, it is more of a prescriptive than a descriptive idea. I do not doubt that, as a matter of descriptive fact, everyone finds him- or herself in a community or a nexus of overlapping communities, which bring with them all kinds of assumptions, biases, and so on, not all of which we can resist perfectly, or even be clearly aware of. But a person ought to work to own up to his or her own thoughts and take responsibility for them. In fact, everyone is responsible, in the sense of morally or ethically culpable, for what he or she thinks, regardless of where the idea comes from. At least to an extent, and a significant one at that, taking responsibility for one's own thoughts is possible. That is what I mean by "individualism."
It is my view that, contrary to popular opinion, this kind of individualism is prevalent in the Bible, especially in the New Testament. It is the corrolary of the move, apparent especially in the Apostle Paul's letters, against settled communitarian distinctions that would divide the Church or order it hierarchically. This is how I read the famous "neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free" from Galatians.
This kind of individualism means that each person is responsible for his or her own faith. By no means do I intend here to downplay the role of the Holy Spirit; in fact, this role dovetails nicely with individualism. Because we believe by an act of God in our hearts, we are never bound directly to, nor dependent upon, anyone else for our faith.
Finally, this kind of individualism does not contradict, but actually supports socialist, even communist collectivism. It is because we, as individuals, have our own thoughts, that when our common thoughts agree, we can act in egalitarian unity.
Ecclesiologically, this means that our churches ought to embody this kind of individualist collectivism. We come together, as the Gospel of Matthew puts it, in Jesus' name. In my view, that does not mean we use the name of Jesus as a mere word, void of definitive reference, waiting to be filled in by our opinions. Rather, "in Jesus' name" means according to the truth of God's act and being in the irreducible particularity of the human life, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. In other words, it is our common idea, which each person holds individually, that brings the Church together.
The usual assumption today is quite different. It is often assumed that whenever people are together in an ecclesiological institution, they are duty-bound to hold onto some kind of unity no matter what happens, and no matter how superficial this unity turns out to be. Strangely, perhaps, this idea seems more prevalent in the so-called "left wing" of denominations more than the right wing. But in the final analysis, this move is inherently right wing.
Therefore our determination is to be individuals, not so that we can avoid collective activity, but so that our collective activity, when it happens, will not be superficial but deep and authentic. Doctrine, or ideas, should lead here, not unity for its own sake. Otherwise, the tail is wagging the dogma.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Communism and Christianity, Together at Last
Welcome to a new blog! I have not been blogging for years. Back in the day, I used to blog occasionally at The Gordian Knott. Now I'm starting over. This post will discuss what this blog is about, why it is needed, and what distinguishes it from alternatives.
Red Fish is dedicated to radical Christian thought. "Radical" names a formal quality of the thought, and "Christian" names the material content.
There are plenty of blogs out there already for the kind of thought which combines a "radical" (leftist, communist, socialist, etc.) political stance, informed by content other than the Christian gospel, with an understanding of Christianity, synthetically. There are also blogs which, seemingly, wish to simply be "Christian" in a radical sense, but in such a way that their Christianity is apparently informed (in part, at least) by external content. Finally, following the thought of Slavoj Zizek and Alain Badiou, others seemingly wish to understand Christianity strictly formally, in terms of its subjective disposition, while ignoring, down-playing, or denying Christian content altogether.
Red Fish will assume and advocate a distinct perspective and method. It is our view that Christianity itself is a definable singularity of thought, neither needing nor allowing any foreign content to be smuggled into it or added to it synthetically. This singularity concerns God in Jesus Christ (crucified), and as such it concerns the whole of the ethical life. That means there is a distinctively Christian understanding of (the ethical dimension of) politics, economics, sexuality, etc.; in short, everything that concerns our embodied existence.
The reason we distinguish our perspective on the Christian faith with the term "radical" is that we are convinced that this quality of thought is inescapably inherent in the content of this singularity. That is, we are radical because we are Christians, full stop. It is because of this, and in this, that we find common cause with other radicals (communists, etc.).
However, we do not simply agree with other, non-Christian radicals. The form/content distinction is helpful here. Non-Christian radicals share the radical form of Christian thought, and as such are to be seen as allies. But their radicality is the form of a different content than ours. Therefore it is not a matter of agreeing with the communists on "political" matters whilst disagreeing with them on "religion." We sometimes disagree with them on political and/or social matters as well. And insofar as other Christians are not radical politically, it will be seen that they disagree with us theologically.
Other times, of course, we agree with non-Christian radicals on particular issues. This does not mean we are secretly really not Christians, or something in addition to Christians, on those issues. Nor does it mean that other radicals are "anonymous Christians" on those issues. Our agreements can be seen as ad hoc agreements; we can acknowledge agreement on issues which we reach by different paths. There are also, of course, theological issues to be dealt with in future posts, including natural theology, general revelation, parables, and the like, but we cannot deal with them here. The point is that we think all of ethics from Christianity itself, acknowledging and making use of agreements with non-Christians where they appear, but ultimately not driven by a desire for these agreements.
That, we think, will make Red Fish distinct. Hopefully some will find it helpful.
Red Fish is dedicated to radical Christian thought. "Radical" names a formal quality of the thought, and "Christian" names the material content.
There are plenty of blogs out there already for the kind of thought which combines a "radical" (leftist, communist, socialist, etc.) political stance, informed by content other than the Christian gospel, with an understanding of Christianity, synthetically. There are also blogs which, seemingly, wish to simply be "Christian" in a radical sense, but in such a way that their Christianity is apparently informed (in part, at least) by external content. Finally, following the thought of Slavoj Zizek and Alain Badiou, others seemingly wish to understand Christianity strictly formally, in terms of its subjective disposition, while ignoring, down-playing, or denying Christian content altogether.
Red Fish will assume and advocate a distinct perspective and method. It is our view that Christianity itself is a definable singularity of thought, neither needing nor allowing any foreign content to be smuggled into it or added to it synthetically. This singularity concerns God in Jesus Christ (crucified), and as such it concerns the whole of the ethical life. That means there is a distinctively Christian understanding of (the ethical dimension of) politics, economics, sexuality, etc.; in short, everything that concerns our embodied existence.
The reason we distinguish our perspective on the Christian faith with the term "radical" is that we are convinced that this quality of thought is inescapably inherent in the content of this singularity. That is, we are radical because we are Christians, full stop. It is because of this, and in this, that we find common cause with other radicals (communists, etc.).
However, we do not simply agree with other, non-Christian radicals. The form/content distinction is helpful here. Non-Christian radicals share the radical form of Christian thought, and as such are to be seen as allies. But their radicality is the form of a different content than ours. Therefore it is not a matter of agreeing with the communists on "political" matters whilst disagreeing with them on "religion." We sometimes disagree with them on political and/or social matters as well. And insofar as other Christians are not radical politically, it will be seen that they disagree with us theologically.
Other times, of course, we agree with non-Christian radicals on particular issues. This does not mean we are secretly really not Christians, or something in addition to Christians, on those issues. Nor does it mean that other radicals are "anonymous Christians" on those issues. Our agreements can be seen as ad hoc agreements; we can acknowledge agreement on issues which we reach by different paths. There are also, of course, theological issues to be dealt with in future posts, including natural theology, general revelation, parables, and the like, but we cannot deal with them here. The point is that we think all of ethics from Christianity itself, acknowledging and making use of agreements with non-Christians where they appear, but ultimately not driven by a desire for these agreements.
That, we think, will make Red Fish distinct. Hopefully some will find it helpful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)