"Analytic" and "Continental" as Theological Categories

A note to begin: this has very little to do with the differences between Analytic and Continental Philosophy, their possible reconcilation, or anything of this sort. This is only about how theology takes concepts from each.

Quite a lot of modern Protestant theology has recourse to modern continental thought, at least insofar as modern Protestant theology is critically reflective and admits of its philosophical underpinnings. This is an interesting phenomenon in the English-speaking world, as most of the philosophy departments (even at the same universities!) belong to the analytic tradition. The use of analytic philosophy is, in my experience, more often done or conditioned by Roman Catholic theologians (this is admittedly excluding those individuals who are in the and/or category: for example, do Plantiga and Craig do philosophy or theology, and are they philosophers or theologians?).

So as a Protestant whose philosophical background lies primarily in the analytic tradition, I have had several experiences which shed light on the relationship between theology and the two traditions:

First, many theologians hear "analytic theology", think "analytic philosophy", and understand "logical positivism". I grant that at one point this might have been an acceptable inference, however, it is certainly no longer the case. There is a great deal of work to be done in theology so that we as Christians do not simply repeat the animosities of philosophy departments, and so that we can critically appropriate analytic methodology (as well as perhaps making our critical reflection on other philosophical traditions a bit more critical).

Second, still on the topic of analytic theology, if the former connection is not made, it seems that folks hear "analytic theology", think "English-speaking Roman Catholics", and understand "Neo-Thomism". Yeah, so, see above on methodology. Not only that, there are enough historical examples to be had of systematic Protestant thinkers, even those who operated on much the same (philosophical) foundation as Aquinas (for example, the Lutheran Johann Gerhard), that we don't need this sort of blanket category. The Neo-Thomists can remain so, but let's not lump everyone in there, shall we?

Third, in regard to the relationship between theology and philosophy period (I may take some heat for this): there was a time when one was expected to have a solid philosophical foundation (in the sense of a wide understanding of the broad strokes) before even doing theology - this was for a long time the case in European universities, and it is some of the root reason why in America today we have an MDiv which one can begin despite having a Bachelor's degree in something else. With the exception of between 5-10% (and excluding all of the "let's get philosophy out of theology" people, oy), I would not hestitate to claim that most theologians (and pastors) do not adequately understand the intellectual foundations upon which they base their theology. The fact of the matter is, that theology requires the thought-categories and critical reflection of philosophy even to be reasoned discourse - and the attempt to appropriate that which we do not understand is detrimental to the endeavour of theology. This is not something that can be remedied with two semesters of survey classes in a Master's program, either! One can become a good theologian without understanding philosophy, but not only is this very rare, one is also an extremely limited theologian. This is a matter of the intellectual responsibility of the Christian - one may say that this is too much, a prospective pastor can't learn good theology, and philosophy, and the ancient languages, and how to use modern languages, and how to engage with literature (the subject of a post yet to come); I say to that individual that the calling to serve God's people is not preparation to do a professional job, but a calling to this level of preparation for interaction with the Word and the world. Especially in today's society, a lower standard is simply inadequate preparation (to be sure, God uses the inadequate, for we are inadequate to His task even when held to a higher intellectual standard; let us not sin that Grace may abound!)

As Christians, of whom to some extent each is a theologian, let us keep clear the differences between methodology in theology and intellectual tradition in philosophy, let us heed the call to develop ourselves enough to be able to differentiate that which we appropriate, and let us above all learn that our commitment to God is not a snatch-time-around-the-edges or a go-home-at-5 obligation, but rather a 100% release of self to the One who reforms (and re-forms) our very being.

God in the Forst

I have been lucky enough that this week I have been able to start a couple of my days by taking a walk in the forest with my dog. I am fortunate in that I live about ten minutes' walk away from the "Perlacher Forst" (yes, the title of this post is not a typo), so it's pretty convenient, when I have an hour to an hour and a half, to walk over there and get out in nature. It's the type of forest that this American is still amazed by, the sort that a Floridian only sees in movies and reads about in books - little undergrowth, and in some places pretty old growth.

This morning, I was walking with the dog and just looking at the trees (and what animals stuck around long enough to be seen), and I was thinking about natural theology. Now, me thinking about natural theology is not an unusual fact, I've kind of been thinking about it pretty steadily for years now due to the research. This was not so much an theoretical consideration, though. My major project for a while has been defining what natural theology is, and how Christians can use it - in a nutshell, as part of the revelatory framework for thinking about God, but not as a method to get to knowledge of God in the first place. There have been some decent modern takes on this, though I note that, aside from a section of time following the Enlightenment, the modern views are more of a ressourcement than original ideas.

Anyway, the point is not the theoretical concept. The point is, that it hit me that in may cases there is still a lot of discussion about the possibility of finding God in nature, given that the Christian knows where to look - there's not been so much discussion about actually doing it. While there is a great deal of need for the theoretical underpinnings (otherwise, I wouldn't have a dissertation), I am also thinking a bit about what a practical application of these sorts of concepts actually looks like. I know I am a couple steps ahead of the game, here - as a movement, it's still on theoretical possibilty, and some of the next steps are things like the nature of the presence of God in the sublime and the beautiful, and interpreting general revelation in the context of particular revelation. Nonetheless, I think that doesn't mean that we can't, in a hands-on manner, begin to think about and act on the how of seeing God in nature, where He has given Himself to be known. A couple of churches here do "Waldgottesdienst", a worship service in the forest every now and then, but I'm not sure if transplanting the liturgy to a different setting is qualitatively the same as genuinely engaging with God's revelation in nature (not that I am arguing for a new liturgy, mind you!). And I am sure that we are not expected by God to go out as individuals and try to interpret our subjective experience. So what does it look like for the community of Christ to reflectively engage with Creation? How can we seek God where He may be found? Perhaps I'm trying to analyze the intuitive, but I think we need to at least ask the questions in our church communities and families. How are we the body of Christ in community, in society, and in Creation?

Making a Comback

So this is essentially the official announcement that I am attempting to start blogging again.

I made it through my comprehensive exams in philosophy (yay!), and am quite pleased with the result (also yay!). Additionally, I have sent the manuscript for the translation off to the publisher, and got all my footnotes in my dissertation, so in theory I have time again.

A piece of advice for anyone writing a dissertation: be very very sure that you have the format right at the beginning. No, asking your advisor is not enough, see it on paper. Moving around 1,000 quotes from inline citation to footnote citation is decidedly not fun.

What Happened?

So what happened? Why the dearth of posts for such a long time?

Well, frankly, I'm swamped. I'm in the process of banging out another draft of this dissertation (add two full chapters, strike one, insert two background-transitional chapters), for starters. Added to that, my comprehensive exams for the philosophy doctorate are in progress, culminating by the end of July. And, I'm reworking an article for publication (there was not enough historical background for the German audience), I have three English articles in progress (one co-authored! I know you read this, I haven't forgotten!), and my monograph translation is supposed to be done by the 15th of June.

So no, I'm not actually dead, just internet-dead. Regular programming will resume when I have more time, or in the eschaton, whichever comes first.

Truth Claims and Doctrine

Something I have encountered recently is the radical hermeneutic reduction of each area of human knoweldge. This is the idea that a discipline, like, say, theology, need not take the sciences seriously, because the natural sciences are (individually and collectively) just another interpretive paradigm, with no privileged position. The careful reader will notice that not taking something seriously does not necessarily follow from denying something a privileged position...

In any case, I was thinking about this idea, and had the following conclusions:

Let's imagine for a moment that this is the case, and no method of knowing or interpreting reality need take serious the truth claims of any other. If this is so, then a radical reduction of this ends up in an individually relative truth standard, i.e. what is true for me is not true for you, and so forth. What content I give to the term "dog" need not correspond to the content you might give the term, and we use words so equivocally that communication is impossible.

This can be solved by positing communities of understanding, in which multiple persons agree on the content of terms and their methods for interpreting reality. Then communication becomes possible again, on an "interpersonal" standard (which is still not an objective one - but it is held to be subjectively universal, at least for members of that community). This looks like a solution, and may well be the case, if we concede the lack of ability to take a third-person perspective. The problem with this is that none of us belong exclusively to one community of understanding. As individuals in the communities, we must either have a way of communicating between the communities, or exist in permanent cognitive dissonance. The latter seems not to be the case, so we can, I think, safely posit that the communities of understanding (within which hermeneutics of reality are agreed upon) are not fully isolated.

Taking a page from hermeneutic thought, speech itself is the translation of concepts between interlocutors - so the "translatability" of the concepts, at least partially, between communities of understanding is kind of presupposed as discourse, either between individuals or between our (non-schizophrenic!) "parts" of ourselves. If this is the case, then while it is the case that no manner of understanding the world should have a privileged position, but each individual interpretation of reality should take the claims of all others seriously, and they should be at least partially communicable between one another. This doesn't give any sort of ground to say who is right and who is wrong, but it certainly means that, and here it comes, theology has to take the sciences seriously - not as reality defining, but as a part of modern western culture, and as a hermeneutic of reality that, let's face it, to which we belong at least partially.

Another thought is that we all seem to presuppose the rules of logic. While we might posit that a logic-less discourse is possible, I have yet to encounter any statement whatsoever that does not presuppose at least some basic logic (despite claims to the contrary - any sentence with propositional content presupposes logic, so I challenge anyone to present my with non-logical communication). I will close with Wolfhart Pannenberg: "...no argumentation is possible, even in theology, unless there is recognition of the basic principles of identity and contradiction. These principles have always been especially presupposed in efforts to present the systematic unity of Christian doctrine. The scientific nature of theological work rests on their thorough application, even if int he process their concrete form seems more like that of an argument of convenience than that of rational deduction." (ST I, pg. 21 in the English version, can be found on pg. 31 of the original) (My thanks to Gunter Wenz for making me aware of this passage in regard to this discussion)

God on a Cross

Someone once told me, "you Lutherans need to be careful, or you have God on the cross".

I've been thinking a bit about this lately, and, since it's Good Friday, I'd like to note that "God on a Cross" is exactly what we have. "God" is not a term that describes the set to which the members of the Godhead belong - it is perfectly predicated of the Son as well as of the Father and of the Spirit. God is on the cross, in the same manner that God is become flesh.

Present tense? Aren't we commemorating a historic event? Well, yes and no - we think on a historic event today, but it is a historic event that is present with us even now. The crucified Christ is the one who is with us today when we are in church, in our homes, or wherever we might be, as it is of His body that we are members. We are cautioned from thinking of the cross without the resurrection, but also we should take care to not think of the resurrection without the cross - it is the crucified one who is resurrected, and the resurrected one who is crucified (careful readers will notice I've been reading Moltmann again).

In the same way that His resurrection is proleptically present to us as believers, and as members of His body, His crucifixion and death is present to us, His pain and suffering. God's eternal decision was the giving of Himself, and that means that God's suffering and death on the cross is as much a part of who God is for us eternally as His overcoming of death is.

We don't have a God who cannot suffer - we have a God who does suffer, and who suffers with us, because (yes, because!) we have a God who snatches us from the jaws of sin and death and who takes us into His kingdom. And as real as the kingdom is for us now, we remember today, so real is the suffering of God for us and for our sakes.

For this reason, I am humbled by the filled cross and the empty tomb - let us not confuse the two, for all that they are inseparable.

Thoughts about Marriage

So, back from the Society for the Study of Theology meeting and (mostly) recovered from the cold that got shared around there, I give you: thoughts I had in the coffee shop in the airport on the way back.

So is it possible that marriage has something to do with (or is similar to) the sort of unity that we’ve got in the eschaton? I mean, here’s why: I don’t want to say that the marriage happens in the ceremony, like the Roman Catholics do, because I have trouble with that picture forcing God’s hand. A marriage happens whether God wants or not (or it’s annulled and was never a marriage) on that account. As a Lutheran, when I got married, our pastor mentioned at the beginning that this is asking God’s blessing on what we hope He has done. After all, God makes two one flesh, God does the putting together. Now, that didn’t happen in the signing of the civil document, either, because that would be really strangely sacramental about the act of signing papers at the courthouse. So it had to happen as some other point, and it has to be a little bit different than asking God to bless the civil document entering us into a contract or the civil union before the law, because if it were that, then I need a church wedding about as much as I need a church service asking God to bless the signing of the lease on my flat or on my getting a new business contract (plus, it takes away the agency of God in making two into one). 

Now, some people have suggested to me that a covenant is formed in the sex act, that we then present to God and ask God’s blessing on it. Two problems I have with this idea: one, that in cultures like the US it makes celibacy before marriage nonsensical, because we end up asking for a blessing on a covenant that isn’t supposed to exist yet. Two, it kind of presents God with a situation He has to deal with: Hey, look, God, at the covenant we made, bless it, yes/no? So what happens if He says no? He has to be free to say no, or we are back in the RC mode of thinking about it, just using a different act. And where is His agency in the matter? If it’s not a marriage until He confirms it, what happens if we never ask (casual sex and unconfirmed covenants?)? If it is a marriage because it’s a covenant and God can choose not to bless it, where does that land you on divorce (it seems like this can be the beginning of a story in which God wills a divorce, “I have something better for you”)? And if God is presented with things that He can’t make different, this is kind of the same challenge to His omnipotence that emanations in Neo-Platonism or chaos interdependence in process theology has, insofar as our temporal presentation of the situation to God is “present” to Him in eternity. 

This all looks really messy to me. So here’s a better picture, for me: God ordained “at some point” that there was an ontologically interpenetrating unity of two who “become” one – quotations, because it’s probably eternally ordained and we are subjectively realizing it in our lives (in both senses of “realize”, to become aware and to make real to us). Now, we don’t know for sure, as limited creatures, what God has eternally ordained, but we can have indications through God’s presence to us and guidance in our lives, and we can have a proleptic presence of this unity as well as a part of God’s eternal decree. So we hope (Pannenberg-style hope) that we are right about this other being the one who isn’t really other in God’s eternal decree for us, and ask God to bless us in the hope on what He has “already” done – so the marriage happened from eternity, we just make it subjectively real through legal contracts and blessing services (interestingly, this gets me soulmates, too, but that wasn’t the whole point, promise!). So if we are wrong, then we carry moral guilt for misinterpreting God and treating what wasn’t a marriage like a marriage, and if we are right, that was proper anticipation of the eschaton. It gets me a marriage that is as strong and indelible as RC marriage is supposed to be, without the human-action-sacramentality-means-of-grace-stuff. I still want to call it a quasi-sacrament, because we do have an experience of God in the decree and in the ontological unity of two-to-one, but not a sacrament in the sense that every member of the Body of Christ is experiencing it or needs it at all, and I’m doubtful that it is a means of grace. And there’s no reliance on any sort of human action to bring it about. 

So I know that’s a rather strange way to look at marriage, but I think there might be something here. It’s how I see it anyway, at the moment. I’m influenced by Pannenberg on this, a bit, but more by his account of Baptism than anything else. Actually, the whole nature of Baptism in Lutheran theology is what got me here, because the core of this thought happened when I was reading Bo Giertz’s novel (of all things!). I’m also really thankful for the discussion with Joe McGarry at the recent SST meeting in York regarding some of these ideas, where he really challenged me one evening about how I was using the word “quasi-sacramental” (and endured with me the strange assumptions of some eavesdroppers who only heard a few lines discussing the covenant-sex-act-picture and prostitutes…one can only imagine what they thought of us).