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.

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.