Lately I've been reading a lot about grace, salvation, predestination, etc for various classes as well as social justice. Additionally, recent conversations I have had have led me to consider also whether or not ethics are sufficient for salvation or whether piety or correct worship are part and parcel as well. In the end, this has led me to consider that perhaps heaven is not what we think it is.
First of all, I should like to suggest that there are no "hell" or "purgatory" as we traditionally conceive of them. This is by no means a novel assessment of my part. In fact, many theologians have suggested this. Most recently the pastor Rob Bell became quite famous for suggesting this, but the Catholic Church itself does not teach that there is necessarily anybody in hell and other theologians have suggested (such as Ed Vacek) have suggested that since God is love, God would not allow God's children to suffer for all eternity.
I do not mean, however, that I think there will be no suffering. I think there will be no hell. I think the concept of a firey pit and lake of brimstone might be a helpful heuristic for some, the same way thinking of God as a glowing person might, but by no means do I think there will be a place where the damned are literally dipped into molten pitch. Rather, I think those who "are in hell" will endure an eternity of self-imposed suffering.
Everyone who has ever lived will be there. Everyone from our ancestors, our close loved ones, the saints, the sinners, etc. This will be the first opportunity for people to inflict on themselves their suffering. Many people who are proud, pugnacious, self-righteous or easily-offended will find it intolerable to go through eternity with some of the other people. Thus, a man like Dante Alighieri, who ascribed all of his personal enemies various torments in hell, was probably shocked to see them all in heaven, as I'm sure they were shocked to see him. Here Jesus' "hard sayings" become especially applicable. The commandments to love our enemies, to forgive others, to make up with those who wrong us, etc, become particularly relevant when they all show up at the Lord's banquet. We can think of the parable of the workers of the vineyard who complained to the master when the people who worked the least got equal pay. God will save all of us, but that's because that's what God wants to do. If we can't accept that, then the problem lies in us.
This also has applications for those who have low-self esteem. Those who have a hard time accepting or forgiving themselves may stand in disbelief when they are in heaven. Those whose lives have been scarred by abuse, whether emotional, physical, verbal or sexual, might not think they deserve heaven. In the love commandments, Jesus commands us implicitly to love ourselves. This idea often falls on deaf ears within Christianity, but it is important for us to forgive and love ourselves just as we do for others. This is where the next important part comes in. In heaven, God's grace is freely given to all people.
God's grace has the power to heal and nurture. Those whose lives are marred and whose sense of self is broken will be redeemed by God's love as it rains down freely upon all souls. Furthermore, as we are filled with God's grace and love, we will share it with others. Thus, those who have an easier time accepting their position in heaven will share God's grace with others, especially those whose image of self is damaged. As others' lift these people up in God's love, their wounds will be healed and they will find it easier to love and forgive themselves. The same is true for those who have a hard time forgiving or loving others, thought it might take longer for this to occur as we are most in touch with ourselves. Only those with the most stubborn hearts (ie, with no will to change whatsoever) will endure "hell."
Because God's grace will be freely distributed, those whose lives were devoted to acquiring fame, power, money, or other limited commodities will find themselves shocked and offended that all of their "hard work" was for nothing. On the other hand, those who strove hard just to survive will be overly gladdened to find themselves in a place where they do not have to worry about scraping by. Those who have learned to give and share in this life will also find themselves in a state of incredible joy for they will be able to give God's grace to all without worrying about running out. In short, all the limits we have in this world due to limited resources will be removed and those who found themselves happy in that scheme will be miserable while those who found themselves miserable will be happy. Hence, "the last shall be first and the first shall be last."
Concerning piety and unbelief: I imagine that all of us, to one degree or another, will find heaven to be different from what we expected. Since I am a Christian, I imagine heaven will be a place where we spend time with the God, especially Jesus. However, I assume that since we all will be there, there will necessarily be different people from different religions. I assume that they may not all see God as we do. However, keeping in the spirit of Rahner's "anonymous Christians," I think that there will be some who accept their fate more easily than others, as I expect will be the case for Christians. Personal piety might help us become more ready for the beatific vision but only inasmuch as we do not neglect our neighbors. The dual love commandments do say that we need to love God, so I think even the most virtuous atheist will find himself troubled for awhile, but I also think that those who think God has very specific favorites (eg, Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses) will be shocked when they see Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Taoists, etc all in heaven.
So, to recap: I think that God will save us all. I think, however, that God will not alter our wills, or our dispositions. Those who find "happiness" in temporal things will find themselves lost. Those who think they have exclusive rights to heaven will find themselves offended. Those who cannot learn to forgive or love, will find themselves surrounded by enemies. Thus, our "works" in this life can help us prepare for heaven, but they will not "earn" heaven for us. Furthermore, our personal faith might help us prepare for being with God, but it will not determine whether or not we are. Thus, the teaching that those who are in hell choose it still follows, since those who will suffer in heaven will be those who choose to reject God's providence rather than embrace it.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Bonus et Malus?
It occurs to me that today, we don't properly understand fully what "right and wrong" or "good and evil" mean. Without going into a lengthy discourse on the proper meaning of the terms (Jim Keenan defines actions as being "right" or "wrong" and people as being "good" or "evil"), and without going into questions of relativism (the endless debate among philosophers is what "good" is versus "evil" (Nietzsche says that "evil" is a cheap word to use in order to make what is "bad" universally so in The Genealogy of Morals)), I would like to discuss the simple fact of what seems to be ignorance.
In American culture, our obsession with the two-party political system dominates much of the rest of our lives. It used to be that Catholics were supposed to be good Democrats while Protestants though this has changed in recent years. People classify themselves as "conservative" or "liberal" (drawing from the old British party system) and often times allow themselves to be conscientiously defined as such or ideologically determined this way. People on the "right" tend to be more religious, and support more autonomy and less interference. People on the left tend to be more agnostic or atheistic and support more governmental interference. These stereotypes become so ingrained in people's minds that many Protestant Christians will be shocked to find Democratic Christians while anti-war protestors might be surprised to find in their midst registered Republicans. This is the problem of our system--we tend to polarize values and expect that people cannot be strongly in favor of one thing or another.
The very greatest problem with this is that our two political parties are full of blatant contradicting values. For example, Democrats tend to be against war and the death penalty, but are more likely to favor more relaxed abortion policies and even allow assisted suicide or euthanasia. Similarly, Republicans tend to be against increased taxation, but also tend to support military efforts which cost the nation billions, even trillions of dollars. This problem for the simple reason that political parties are comprised of politicians, each of whom has his own political agenda. The agenda upon which they agree is the basis for their party, but the remaining agenda on which they do not, they must compromise upon for the sake of party unity. Thus, though Catholicism's strong pro-life ethic had been a part of the Democratic Party's platform for many years, after Roe vs Wade Democratic politicians tended to favor looser abortion policies and Catholics, as a result, began to switch party allegiances. Because of many political decisions and compromises, neither political party represents a solid or coherent ethic.
Take, for example, Libertarianism. Libertarianism is a political stance closest to Nietzsche's philosophy. The main idea of libertarianism is "live and let live." In other words, Libertarians favor small government (or no government), and laissez faire economics, similar to Republicans. However, Libertarians also tend to oppose war and religion in political situations, similar to Democrats. Their stance draws from values in both parties, but is entirely consistent, unlike either the Republicans or Democrats. Similarly, Cardinal Bernardin, former archbishop of Chicago, proposed a theology many Catholics today embrace called "the Seamless Garment" or "The consistent Ethic of Life." The main focus of this ethic is that life is sacred and thus anything that attacks it, be it abortion, euthanasia, the death penalty, or war, is evil. This stance draws from both political parties but is entirely outside of them and is, as the name suggests, entirely consistent.
Whether or not one agrees with the Seamless Garment or the Libertarian ideology, what is impressive is their consistency. Unlike the two parties which we follow now, which are riddled with contradictions. The critical observer will realize the incongruencies within the parties. Those with strong convictions will ally themselves with and vote for whichever politician best represents their beliefs while those with less conviction will ally themselves wholeheartedly with a party. Often times, however, we confuse our own beliefs and ethics with those of political systems. This is the case not simply with political parties but even with political bodies.
Consider for example, if I ask the question, "Is America good?" The patriotic reading this will answer wholeheartedly "Yes!" The subversive reading this will answer with just as much gusto, "No!" If I ask the follow-up question, "Why?" however, the answers will be more muddled. The first camp will say things like "Because we have freedom," while the second camp will answer "Because we're doing X (keeping out immigrants, going to war, taxing the poor, denying gay marriage, or whatever hot-button issue one wants to use)." I could ask further follow-up questions, but I think the solution lies in something more basic. Those who think America is good do so because America is a very powerful nation, one in which any person (theoretically, though not practically speaking) can rise through the ranks of society and even become the leader. Those who think America is not good do so because with the power America possesses, there ought to be more efforts to create more good in the world.
However, America is not necessarily "good" or "evil." Just now I labeled the US as "powerful," but power can be used in various ways. For most American citizens, life here is better than it would be in any other nation. For many other nations, America is not doing enough globally. However, even in the midst of all this, America itself is not a moral agent. The citizens of the country are. "America's policies" cannot be defined as all necessarily right or wrong. In other words, the United States is a conglomeration of compromising political figures, each of whom influences the nation in either a positive or a negative fashion. The US itself is not a moral authority nor a moral actor.
We often historically forget this fact. World War I erupted as a result of strong nationalistic feelings in Europe. The aftermath of both World Wars resulted in the nation of Germany twice being punished as if a moral agent, first by essentially bankrupting the country and second by dividing it. Similarly, when Muslim extremists attacked a few prominent American buildings, the nation went to war against the entire nation of Afghanistan. Since the rise of the nation state, "national values" have often been confused with ethical systems. I have mentioned before that positive law is not identical or necessarily based on ethical norms, but I think that it bears repeating. The policy of a nation cannot be confused with what is good.
Because of this, we are unlikely to see recognize the good when the good is presented to
us. Jesus was killed by his own people. Martin Luther King, Jr was shot by an American. Dorothy Day was disliked by many Catholics. Harvey Milk was killed for his efforts to further gay rights. We tend to only be able to see goodness in the mirror. The same is true for evil. We recognize now that Hitler was evil, though we did not stop him before 1944. The United States and the Soviet Union built up massive stockpiles of nuclear weapons before anyone protested. We were in Vietnam for nearly ten years before pressure from both within and without convinced congress to stop. The point is, we are not always good at recognizing what is good and what is evil when it happens, though we are always good about seeing it later.
Thus, it seems to me that within our nations policies and cultural norms, we often ignore what is good and embrace what is evil.
Rather than seeking to follow party lines or obey orders, we should be willing to evaluate our decisions and our judgment calls based on the question, "How will this support the good?" Things that encourage life are good. Things that bring about justice are good. Things that encourage people to serve others are good. Things that increase oppression or poverty are bad. Things that prevent education or increase ignorance are bad. Things that cause harm or illness or increase the risk of such things are bad.
The world may not be "black and white," but individual actions can be evaluated as such, and personal action ought to be determined more on this criteria than on anything else.
In American culture, our obsession with the two-party political system dominates much of the rest of our lives. It used to be that Catholics were supposed to be good Democrats while Protestants though this has changed in recent years. People classify themselves as "conservative" or "liberal" (drawing from the old British party system) and often times allow themselves to be conscientiously defined as such or ideologically determined this way. People on the "right" tend to be more religious, and support more autonomy and less interference. People on the left tend to be more agnostic or atheistic and support more governmental interference. These stereotypes become so ingrained in people's minds that many Protestant Christians will be shocked to find Democratic Christians while anti-war protestors might be surprised to find in their midst registered Republicans. This is the problem of our system--we tend to polarize values and expect that people cannot be strongly in favor of one thing or another.
The very greatest problem with this is that our two political parties are full of blatant contradicting values. For example, Democrats tend to be against war and the death penalty, but are more likely to favor more relaxed abortion policies and even allow assisted suicide or euthanasia. Similarly, Republicans tend to be against increased taxation, but also tend to support military efforts which cost the nation billions, even trillions of dollars. This problem for the simple reason that political parties are comprised of politicians, each of whom has his own political agenda. The agenda upon which they agree is the basis for their party, but the remaining agenda on which they do not, they must compromise upon for the sake of party unity. Thus, though Catholicism's strong pro-life ethic had been a part of the Democratic Party's platform for many years, after Roe vs Wade Democratic politicians tended to favor looser abortion policies and Catholics, as a result, began to switch party allegiances. Because of many political decisions and compromises, neither political party represents a solid or coherent ethic.
Take, for example, Libertarianism. Libertarianism is a political stance closest to Nietzsche's philosophy. The main idea of libertarianism is "live and let live." In other words, Libertarians favor small government (or no government), and laissez faire economics, similar to Republicans. However, Libertarians also tend to oppose war and religion in political situations, similar to Democrats. Their stance draws from values in both parties, but is entirely consistent, unlike either the Republicans or Democrats. Similarly, Cardinal Bernardin, former archbishop of Chicago, proposed a theology many Catholics today embrace called "the Seamless Garment" or "The consistent Ethic of Life." The main focus of this ethic is that life is sacred and thus anything that attacks it, be it abortion, euthanasia, the death penalty, or war, is evil. This stance draws from both political parties but is entirely outside of them and is, as the name suggests, entirely consistent.
Whether or not one agrees with the Seamless Garment or the Libertarian ideology, what is impressive is their consistency. Unlike the two parties which we follow now, which are riddled with contradictions. The critical observer will realize the incongruencies within the parties. Those with strong convictions will ally themselves with and vote for whichever politician best represents their beliefs while those with less conviction will ally themselves wholeheartedly with a party. Often times, however, we confuse our own beliefs and ethics with those of political systems. This is the case not simply with political parties but even with political bodies.
Consider for example, if I ask the question, "Is America good?" The patriotic reading this will answer wholeheartedly "Yes!" The subversive reading this will answer with just as much gusto, "No!" If I ask the follow-up question, "Why?" however, the answers will be more muddled. The first camp will say things like "Because we have freedom," while the second camp will answer "Because we're doing X (keeping out immigrants, going to war, taxing the poor, denying gay marriage, or whatever hot-button issue one wants to use)." I could ask further follow-up questions, but I think the solution lies in something more basic. Those who think America is good do so because America is a very powerful nation, one in which any person (theoretically, though not practically speaking) can rise through the ranks of society and even become the leader. Those who think America is not good do so because with the power America possesses, there ought to be more efforts to create more good in the world.
However, America is not necessarily "good" or "evil." Just now I labeled the US as "powerful," but power can be used in various ways. For most American citizens, life here is better than it would be in any other nation. For many other nations, America is not doing enough globally. However, even in the midst of all this, America itself is not a moral agent. The citizens of the country are. "America's policies" cannot be defined as all necessarily right or wrong. In other words, the United States is a conglomeration of compromising political figures, each of whom influences the nation in either a positive or a negative fashion. The US itself is not a moral authority nor a moral actor.
We often historically forget this fact. World War I erupted as a result of strong nationalistic feelings in Europe. The aftermath of both World Wars resulted in the nation of Germany twice being punished as if a moral agent, first by essentially bankrupting the country and second by dividing it. Similarly, when Muslim extremists attacked a few prominent American buildings, the nation went to war against the entire nation of Afghanistan. Since the rise of the nation state, "national values" have often been confused with ethical systems. I have mentioned before that positive law is not identical or necessarily based on ethical norms, but I think that it bears repeating. The policy of a nation cannot be confused with what is good.
Because of this, we are unlikely to see recognize the good when the good is presented to
us. Jesus was killed by his own people. Martin Luther King, Jr was shot by an American. Dorothy Day was disliked by many Catholics. Harvey Milk was killed for his efforts to further gay rights. We tend to only be able to see goodness in the mirror. The same is true for evil. We recognize now that Hitler was evil, though we did not stop him before 1944. The United States and the Soviet Union built up massive stockpiles of nuclear weapons before anyone protested. We were in Vietnam for nearly ten years before pressure from both within and without convinced congress to stop. The point is, we are not always good at recognizing what is good and what is evil when it happens, though we are always good about seeing it later.Thus, it seems to me that within our nations policies and cultural norms, we often ignore what is good and embrace what is evil.
Rather than seeking to follow party lines or obey orders, we should be willing to evaluate our decisions and our judgment calls based on the question, "How will this support the good?" Things that encourage life are good. Things that bring about justice are good. Things that encourage people to serve others are good. Things that increase oppression or poverty are bad. Things that prevent education or increase ignorance are bad. Things that cause harm or illness or increase the risk of such things are bad.
The world may not be "black and white," but individual actions can be evaluated as such, and personal action ought to be determined more on this criteria than on anything else.
Monday, May 2, 2011
My views as a moral theologian and Arabist
Last night President Obama announced that Osama bin Laden, the FBI's most wanted (criminal?) terrorist had been killed in a raid. I was out at the time and only heard the news about an hour after the news broke. My first reaction was, 'Why does this matter?'
In the first place, I think Osama bin Laden has been out of America's popular imagination for quite some time now. With the 9/11 attacks, we promised to "never forget" but the super-patriotism that arose from the death of nearly 3000 American civilians (out of 300,000,000, that is, only .001%), but I would argue that by the 2006 we had, essentially forgotten. By 2003, our attention was completely focused on Iraq, where Osama bin Laden was NOT, and our efforts were focused on fighting the War in Iraq (which, by comparison, resulted in the deaths of 860,000 Iraqi civilians in a country whose population was only 7,000,000, that is, more than 10%). Once Saddam Hussein was tried and executed, the American people, for the most part, began to focus on our exit strategy. We needed to get out of the Middle East. People had forgotten about the War in Afghanistan. To date, that war has been the longest waged war in American history, though with a much smaller casualty rate than most (1,140 American troops, mostly killed by friendly fire).
All this is to say, when did we begin to care about Osama again? The number one thing that affects Americans on any sort of regular basis since September 11, 2001 is increasingly higher security measures at airports due to foiled, poorly planned terrorist plots. I normally only think about 9/11 out of frustration when I have to buy a smaller tube of toothpaste, or have to wait to stand in an x-ray machine, or have my bags "randomly searched" because I put my Arabic-English dictionary in my check-on luggage. As far as I knew, we had given up on bin Laden and were only still in Afghanistan for the same reason we were still in Iraq--we couldn't figure out how to get out correctly.
So it came to me as some surprise to hear about the death of Osama bin Laden. It was first of all a surprise because I did not know we were still actually trying to find him. Moreover, it was also a surprise because of the reaction of many of my friends who were reacting as if they had just found out that everyone was getting a massive tax rebate. Chants of USA!! were the norm, apparently, both at Notre Dame and at Boston College, as if we had won a sporting event and not simply killed a man. The attitude around the country was one of jubilation.
But why?
In the first place, killing Osama bin Laden has likely done nothing to stop the supposed "War on Terror." In the US, aside from some very poorly planned terrorist plots, there has been no terrorism activity since 2001. I have read posts by people mentioning the "climate of fear" that bin Laden has put the country in, but has that really been bin Laden? The TSA's increased security measures were not implemented by al Qaeda insurgents. The phone taps and email scanning of the supposed "Patriot Act" were not lobbied by Afghan anti-American lobbyists. And though, I would agree, the morale of the United States was very much affected by what happened nearly ten years ago, I think that the general feeling of Americans in the last few years has been one of security. I find it difficult to believe that the death of bin Laden was the morale boost that this country needed. Our attention since 2003 has been on Iraq, Katrina, Indonesia, the Recession, the BP oil spill, and lately Japan, Africa and other Western Asian countries and finally the tornadoes in the South. We've moved on, or so I had thought.
But furthermore, I do not see how this will end conflicts in the Middle East. In the first place, Osama bin Laden, and al Qaeda in general, represents a branch of political power in Middle Eastern politics that Westerners often don't understand. He represents the people, largely. He has followers that are very loyal to him because he addresses what they see as real problems. Bin Laden was not fighting "America." He was fighting the materialistic capitalism embodied by the US and other nations. That was his rallying cry. That's what his followers believe. If anything, we did not assassinate Osama bin Laden, we martyred him.
So his followers will rise up against us for what we've done. The war will likely escalate, as new energy has been given to those loyal to bin Laden's ideals. As we use various portions of the Middle East to suit our advantages in various wars (read: WWI, WWII, and most of all various Cold War proxy wars), it's hard to imagine that the peoples of these regions will not resist our efforts. We see them as the aggressors, but to them, we are. They killed 3000 people in 2001 on our soil. We've killed 17,000 Afghans since then on their soil.
Finally, the cheerful reaction of many young people is very inappropriate. In 2001, we were shocked and morally offended that there were people cheering in Afghanistan when the WTC buildings were attacked. We talked about standing up for righteousness and justice and truth. We responded that we were going to fight back for freedom. Instead, our government is responsible for putting the entire country into various states of panic, of making the citizens of both Iraq and Afghanistan constantly in fear of their lives and of killing nearly 900,000 people in Iraq and Afghanistan (in other words, 300 times as many as they killed here).
What with the recent budget crisis and Head Start losing its funding, my only celebration will be that perhaps the United States will now devote much more money to social programs rather than military efforts. I will only take joy if bin Laden's death means we permanently leave Afghanistan. I will rejoice if the supposed assassination of this man means racism against Arabs (who, by the way, are ethnically distinct from Afghans). When the government gives us back our liberty, when ecumenical efforts for Christian-Muslim dialogue become more commonplace, when the blatant militaristic attitude that is synonymous with patriotism is erased from our minds, then I will rejoice. Until then, I shall take the events of yesterday as a sign of how truly we, as a supposedly Christian nation, needs to repent.
In the first place, I think Osama bin Laden has been out of America's popular imagination for quite some time now. With the 9/11 attacks, we promised to "never forget" but the super-patriotism that arose from the death of nearly 3000 American civilians (out of 300,000,000, that is, only .001%), but I would argue that by the 2006 we had, essentially forgotten. By 2003, our attention was completely focused on Iraq, where Osama bin Laden was NOT, and our efforts were focused on fighting the War in Iraq (which, by comparison, resulted in the deaths of 860,000 Iraqi civilians in a country whose population was only 7,000,000, that is, more than 10%). Once Saddam Hussein was tried and executed, the American people, for the most part, began to focus on our exit strategy. We needed to get out of the Middle East. People had forgotten about the War in Afghanistan. To date, that war has been the longest waged war in American history, though with a much smaller casualty rate than most (1,140 American troops, mostly killed by friendly fire).
All this is to say, when did we begin to care about Osama again? The number one thing that affects Americans on any sort of regular basis since September 11, 2001 is increasingly higher security measures at airports due to foiled, poorly planned terrorist plots. I normally only think about 9/11 out of frustration when I have to buy a smaller tube of toothpaste, or have to wait to stand in an x-ray machine, or have my bags "randomly searched" because I put my Arabic-English dictionary in my check-on luggage. As far as I knew, we had given up on bin Laden and were only still in Afghanistan for the same reason we were still in Iraq--we couldn't figure out how to get out correctly.
So it came to me as some surprise to hear about the death of Osama bin Laden. It was first of all a surprise because I did not know we were still actually trying to find him. Moreover, it was also a surprise because of the reaction of many of my friends who were reacting as if they had just found out that everyone was getting a massive tax rebate. Chants of USA!! were the norm, apparently, both at Notre Dame and at Boston College, as if we had won a sporting event and not simply killed a man. The attitude around the country was one of jubilation.
But why?
In the first place, killing Osama bin Laden has likely done nothing to stop the supposed "War on Terror." In the US, aside from some very poorly planned terrorist plots, there has been no terrorism activity since 2001. I have read posts by people mentioning the "climate of fear" that bin Laden has put the country in, but has that really been bin Laden? The TSA's increased security measures were not implemented by al Qaeda insurgents. The phone taps and email scanning of the supposed "Patriot Act" were not lobbied by Afghan anti-American lobbyists. And though, I would agree, the morale of the United States was very much affected by what happened nearly ten years ago, I think that the general feeling of Americans in the last few years has been one of security. I find it difficult to believe that the death of bin Laden was the morale boost that this country needed. Our attention since 2003 has been on Iraq, Katrina, Indonesia, the Recession, the BP oil spill, and lately Japan, Africa and other Western Asian countries and finally the tornadoes in the South. We've moved on, or so I had thought.
But furthermore, I do not see how this will end conflicts in the Middle East. In the first place, Osama bin Laden, and al Qaeda in general, represents a branch of political power in Middle Eastern politics that Westerners often don't understand. He represents the people, largely. He has followers that are very loyal to him because he addresses what they see as real problems. Bin Laden was not fighting "America." He was fighting the materialistic capitalism embodied by the US and other nations. That was his rallying cry. That's what his followers believe. If anything, we did not assassinate Osama bin Laden, we martyred him.
So his followers will rise up against us for what we've done. The war will likely escalate, as new energy has been given to those loyal to bin Laden's ideals. As we use various portions of the Middle East to suit our advantages in various wars (read: WWI, WWII, and most of all various Cold War proxy wars), it's hard to imagine that the peoples of these regions will not resist our efforts. We see them as the aggressors, but to them, we are. They killed 3000 people in 2001 on our soil. We've killed 17,000 Afghans since then on their soil.
Finally, the cheerful reaction of many young people is very inappropriate. In 2001, we were shocked and morally offended that there were people cheering in Afghanistan when the WTC buildings were attacked. We talked about standing up for righteousness and justice and truth. We responded that we were going to fight back for freedom. Instead, our government is responsible for putting the entire country into various states of panic, of making the citizens of both Iraq and Afghanistan constantly in fear of their lives and of killing nearly 900,000 people in Iraq and Afghanistan (in other words, 300 times as many as they killed here).
What with the recent budget crisis and Head Start losing its funding, my only celebration will be that perhaps the United States will now devote much more money to social programs rather than military efforts. I will only take joy if bin Laden's death means we permanently leave Afghanistan. I will rejoice if the supposed assassination of this man means racism against Arabs (who, by the way, are ethnically distinct from Afghans). When the government gives us back our liberty, when ecumenical efforts for Christian-Muslim dialogue become more commonplace, when the blatant militaristic attitude that is synonymous with patriotism is erased from our minds, then I will rejoice. Until then, I shall take the events of yesterday as a sign of how truly we, as a supposedly Christian nation, needs to repent.
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Lord's Supper (Eucharist Redux)
Thus far, we have established that, unfortunately for those who are ecumenically minded, sharing the table of the Lord seems more like a fantasy than a reality. We have established that between Catholicism and Protestantism the theology surrounding the Lord's Supper is too much for the different factions to be reconciled.
But the question ought not to be, "How do you view communion?" but rather "Who would Jesus eat with?"
Consider the following. We often talk about how Jesus went out to the poor, the despised, the sinners. We sometimes emphasize Jesus' work among the oppressed and Jesus himself says "I came not for the righteous but for the sinners."
However, when we look around our Churches, what do we see? I've talked about religiosity before, but that's not what I am going for today. How do we see the Lord's table?
Last post I mentioned the way the Roman Church treats the Eucharist. Our theology views it more of the Body of Christ, as a sacrifice. Until Vatican II our tradition was reminiscent of ancient Jewish practices, where only the priest was allowed to enter the sanctuary for the sacrifice and all the people were left in wonder and awe about what he was doing. Now, the priest faces the congregation, but we still treat the Eucharist with the same amount of sacred fear.
This, of course, is why there is so much emphasis on sanctity and holiness. In the Middle Ages, the peasantry were afraid of blaspheming by taking the Eucharist unworthily. The Church said that they needed to take it once a year, but the people were afraid of damning themselves. Thus the practice of lifting up the host became popular, as many of the common people were reluctant to partake but felt that at least seeing the host would be enough. This is also why the cup was inaccessible to people until after the Reformation. Were some of the Blood of Christ to spill on the ground, the person who spilt it would have committed a grave sin. The risk of damnation was too great.
Of course, Luther's understanding of Eucharist was very different. Luther viewed it more of communion, as the Lord's Supper. Thus, to deny people would be too exclude them, rather than to save them. Such a view of the Eucharist, I think, is more in line with Jesus' own teaching.
When Jesus gathered with his disciples for the Last Supper, consider briefly whom he did invite and whom he did not. At the table with him were Judas, his betrayer; Peter, who would deny him three times in one night; Thomas, who would not believe Jesus was resurrected until he was with his own eyes; and the two apostles who did not even recognize Jesus on the way to Emaus. Forget Levi the tax collector and the rest of the fishermen and shepherds, Jesus ate dinner with people who were not genuinely loyal to him. He did not eat with his mother, who would weep at the foot of his cross; Mary Magdalene, who would be the first to his tomb Sunday morning; Joseph of Arimathea, who would bury him; or any of the other disciples who were faithful to him when his apostles fled the garden.
Today, in the Roman Church, we tend to think of communion as a gathering of saints. When Jesus broke bread for the last time before his death, he was communing with anything but a gathering of saints. We restrict and shun and emphasize "worthy" participation. Of course, we do not limit it the same way that Mormons do, but nonetheless we do not allow outsiders to partake.
Jesus granted grace to any who had faith enough. The early Christian Church, because of their justified fears, restricted participation in the community to those who proved their loyalty (usually through a catechetical program that lasted three years). Today, we have no such fears. Today, the Christian Church is not in danger of spies or traitors, at least not from without. Perhaps Eucharist should be extended to any and all who have faith, and our scrutiny should not be to those who would sit at the table of our Lord, but those, namely the bishops and priests, who sit in the Lord's seat at the table.
But the question ought not to be, "How do you view communion?" but rather "Who would Jesus eat with?"
Consider the following. We often talk about how Jesus went out to the poor, the despised, the sinners. We sometimes emphasize Jesus' work among the oppressed and Jesus himself says "I came not for the righteous but for the sinners."
However, when we look around our Churches, what do we see? I've talked about religiosity before, but that's not what I am going for today. How do we see the Lord's table?
Last post I mentioned the way the Roman Church treats the Eucharist. Our theology views it more of the Body of Christ, as a sacrifice. Until Vatican II our tradition was reminiscent of ancient Jewish practices, where only the priest was allowed to enter the sanctuary for the sacrifice and all the people were left in wonder and awe about what he was doing. Now, the priest faces the congregation, but we still treat the Eucharist with the same amount of sacred fear.
This, of course, is why there is so much emphasis on sanctity and holiness. In the Middle Ages, the peasantry were afraid of blaspheming by taking the Eucharist unworthily. The Church said that they needed to take it once a year, but the people were afraid of damning themselves. Thus the practice of lifting up the host became popular, as many of the common people were reluctant to partake but felt that at least seeing the host would be enough. This is also why the cup was inaccessible to people until after the Reformation. Were some of the Blood of Christ to spill on the ground, the person who spilt it would have committed a grave sin. The risk of damnation was too great.
Of course, Luther's understanding of Eucharist was very different. Luther viewed it more of communion, as the Lord's Supper. Thus, to deny people would be too exclude them, rather than to save them. Such a view of the Eucharist, I think, is more in line with Jesus' own teaching.
When Jesus gathered with his disciples for the Last Supper, consider briefly whom he did invite and whom he did not. At the table with him were Judas, his betrayer; Peter, who would deny him three times in one night; Thomas, who would not believe Jesus was resurrected until he was with his own eyes; and the two apostles who did not even recognize Jesus on the way to Emaus. Forget Levi the tax collector and the rest of the fishermen and shepherds, Jesus ate dinner with people who were not genuinely loyal to him. He did not eat with his mother, who would weep at the foot of his cross; Mary Magdalene, who would be the first to his tomb Sunday morning; Joseph of Arimathea, who would bury him; or any of the other disciples who were faithful to him when his apostles fled the garden.
Today, in the Roman Church, we tend to think of communion as a gathering of saints. When Jesus broke bread for the last time before his death, he was communing with anything but a gathering of saints. We restrict and shun and emphasize "worthy" participation. Of course, we do not limit it the same way that Mormons do, but nonetheless we do not allow outsiders to partake.
Jesus granted grace to any who had faith enough. The early Christian Church, because of their justified fears, restricted participation in the community to those who proved their loyalty (usually through a catechetical program that lasted three years). Today, we have no such fears. Today, the Christian Church is not in danger of spies or traitors, at least not from without. Perhaps Eucharist should be extended to any and all who have faith, and our scrutiny should not be to those who would sit at the table of our Lord, but those, namely the bishops and priests, who sit in the Lord's seat at the table.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Eucharist
A friend of mine and I were out a couple nights ago and at some point, as we were waiting for a movie to start, the conversation came to the topic of the Eucharist. I had pointed out to her that since she is Presbyterian, she ought not to take the Eucharist at Mass. This deeply troubled her. She felt that taking the body of Christ, as the body of Christ, was important, and that since only a few Christian traditions, Roman Catholics among them, have theologies which make the Eucharist the real presence of Christ, she should like to partake of the Eucharist at Catholic Masses.
As Easter approaches, a look at the Eucharist and what it means is, I think, appropriate.
To begin with, I think examining the historical development of Eucharistic theology is appropriate. The word "transubstantiation," used primarily to describe Roman Catholic Eucharistic theology, was invented by Martin Luther in an attempt to critique Catholic theology. Luther proposed that the "actual presence" of Christ was not present in the Eucharist, but that it was merely the representation of Christ. Because of this emphasis, Lutheranism moved from a focus on the "Body of Christ" to the "Priesthood of Believers." This distinction is an important one because it reflects the Christology of Lutheranism versus Catholicism. Luther understood the importance of the Eucharist symbolically while the Catholic Church continued to understand it actually. Luther did, however, still emphasize the importance of Communion and saw it as one of the three sacraments, the other two being baptism and confirmation, that were essential for Christian life.
John Calvin, however, took an even more skeptical view of the Eucharist. Calvin did not see any real importance to it and argued that the only sacrament was baptism. Communion was a purely symbolic act of union with the rest of the Church and none of it reflected our relation to Christ. For this reason, some Protestant Churches, following in the tradition of Calvin, do not even have Communion available every Sunday.
Thus we have sharp contrasts between main stream Christian faiths in the West. Every other Protestant denomination has Eucharistic theology that usually lies somewhere between the Catholic understanding of the actual presence, to the point where spilling the consecrated wine literally means spilling Jesus' blood on the ground, to Calvinism, where Communion is a nice gesture, but nothing more than that.
Because of the Catholic understanding of the Eucharist, the requirements for partaking in it are quite stringent. As a convert to Catholicism, I was not permitted (theologically, nobody was physically preventing me) from taking the Eucharist because I had not been properly initiated into the community. Since Catholics see themselves as the Body of Christ, and since they see the Eucharist as the actual physical presence of Christ, one may not partake of the Eucharist unless he or she is a member of the body of Christ. For those baptized into the Catholic Church (ie, baptized by a Catholic priest), the Eucharist is available, even before confirmation. For those baptized outside of the Catholic Church (ie, by another Christian minister) or not Christian (Mormons included), the Eucharist is only available after completing the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults, a sort of catechesis. I went through this program myself two years ago, which culminated in my baptism, confirmation and first Eucharist. I am currently a volunteer for the Boston College RCIA program and those who are going through the program, with the exception of one of the candidates who was already baptized Catholic, must wait until confirmation for first Eucharist.
For those not in the know, the sacraments of baptism, confirmation and first Eucharist are considered the "sacraments of initiation." Catholicism is a "sacramental religion," meaning that the sacraments, or what we refer to as the sacraments, are given high priority. St Thomas Aquinas, in the Summa, lists seven sacraments: baptism, confirmation, Eucharist, confession, last rites, priesthood and matrimony. Because priests in the Roman rite are required to be celibate most people will never receive all seven sacraments and the only ones that were ever considered necessary for salvation were the three sacraments of initiation. As a sacrament of initiation, however, partaking in the Eucharist is an act of intentional communion. First communion, then, is the final step in "becoming Catholic." It is a wonderful celebration for those participating and symbolizes a celebration of having new members in the community.
For this reason, then, issues of the Eucharist can be quite divisive. Consider, for example, the fact that some American politicians have been denied the Eucharist for their political stances concerning abortion. This is quite a "big deal" because the act of denying Eucharist is a symbolic act of denying communion or friendship in the Body of Christ.
On the other hand, since Vatican II, the Roman Church has extended a hand of communion to the Orthodox Church and to the various Middle Eastern Churches that over the years became separated from Rome due to various conflicts, both theological and political. Currently, a Greek Orthodox, or an Assyrian Catholic alike can come up for Eucharist at any Roman liturgy in the world. This extension of communion represents the Roman attempt toward reconciliation. Granted, shared Eucharist does not heal all wounds, but the act of joining together in the Body of Christ is a start.
This leads, finally, to the question of ecumenism with Protestant Churches. It is one thing for Rome to finally reconcile with Constantinople, but it will be quite another thing to be restored to Western Protestantism. As mentioned before, both Luther and Calvin had radically different views of Communion from Rome, so it will be difficult for the Roman Church to allow Christians who do not believe the host to be the actual Body of Christ to participate in the Body of Christ. The Christian Church in the West, then, is at an impasse. If Rome allows communion with Lutherans and Calvinists, it denies its Eucharistic theology and its Christology. If Rome denies communion with Lutherans and Calvinists, we remain a divided Church. And somewhere in the middle, we, the members of Christ's Church get caught. We are prevented from full communion with our brothers and sisters in Christ.
As Easter approaches, a look at the Eucharist and what it means is, I think, appropriate.
To begin with, I think examining the historical development of Eucharistic theology is appropriate. The word "transubstantiation," used primarily to describe Roman Catholic Eucharistic theology, was invented by Martin Luther in an attempt to critique Catholic theology. Luther proposed that the "actual presence" of Christ was not present in the Eucharist, but that it was merely the representation of Christ. Because of this emphasis, Lutheranism moved from a focus on the "Body of Christ" to the "Priesthood of Believers." This distinction is an important one because it reflects the Christology of Lutheranism versus Catholicism. Luther understood the importance of the Eucharist symbolically while the Catholic Church continued to understand it actually. Luther did, however, still emphasize the importance of Communion and saw it as one of the three sacraments, the other two being baptism and confirmation, that were essential for Christian life.
John Calvin, however, took an even more skeptical view of the Eucharist. Calvin did not see any real importance to it and argued that the only sacrament was baptism. Communion was a purely symbolic act of union with the rest of the Church and none of it reflected our relation to Christ. For this reason, some Protestant Churches, following in the tradition of Calvin, do not even have Communion available every Sunday.
Thus we have sharp contrasts between main stream Christian faiths in the West. Every other Protestant denomination has Eucharistic theology that usually lies somewhere between the Catholic understanding of the actual presence, to the point where spilling the consecrated wine literally means spilling Jesus' blood on the ground, to Calvinism, where Communion is a nice gesture, but nothing more than that.
Because of the Catholic understanding of the Eucharist, the requirements for partaking in it are quite stringent. As a convert to Catholicism, I was not permitted (theologically, nobody was physically preventing me) from taking the Eucharist because I had not been properly initiated into the community. Since Catholics see themselves as the Body of Christ, and since they see the Eucharist as the actual physical presence of Christ, one may not partake of the Eucharist unless he or she is a member of the body of Christ. For those baptized into the Catholic Church (ie, baptized by a Catholic priest), the Eucharist is available, even before confirmation. For those baptized outside of the Catholic Church (ie, by another Christian minister) or not Christian (Mormons included), the Eucharist is only available after completing the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults, a sort of catechesis. I went through this program myself two years ago, which culminated in my baptism, confirmation and first Eucharist. I am currently a volunteer for the Boston College RCIA program and those who are going through the program, with the exception of one of the candidates who was already baptized Catholic, must wait until confirmation for first Eucharist.
For those not in the know, the sacraments of baptism, confirmation and first Eucharist are considered the "sacraments of initiation." Catholicism is a "sacramental religion," meaning that the sacraments, or what we refer to as the sacraments, are given high priority. St Thomas Aquinas, in the Summa, lists seven sacraments: baptism, confirmation, Eucharist, confession, last rites, priesthood and matrimony. Because priests in the Roman rite are required to be celibate most people will never receive all seven sacraments and the only ones that were ever considered necessary for salvation were the three sacraments of initiation. As a sacrament of initiation, however, partaking in the Eucharist is an act of intentional communion. First communion, then, is the final step in "becoming Catholic." It is a wonderful celebration for those participating and symbolizes a celebration of having new members in the community.
For this reason, then, issues of the Eucharist can be quite divisive. Consider, for example, the fact that some American politicians have been denied the Eucharist for their political stances concerning abortion. This is quite a "big deal" because the act of denying Eucharist is a symbolic act of denying communion or friendship in the Body of Christ.
On the other hand, since Vatican II, the Roman Church has extended a hand of communion to the Orthodox Church and to the various Middle Eastern Churches that over the years became separated from Rome due to various conflicts, both theological and political. Currently, a Greek Orthodox, or an Assyrian Catholic alike can come up for Eucharist at any Roman liturgy in the world. This extension of communion represents the Roman attempt toward reconciliation. Granted, shared Eucharist does not heal all wounds, but the act of joining together in the Body of Christ is a start.
This leads, finally, to the question of ecumenism with Protestant Churches. It is one thing for Rome to finally reconcile with Constantinople, but it will be quite another thing to be restored to Western Protestantism. As mentioned before, both Luther and Calvin had radically different views of Communion from Rome, so it will be difficult for the Roman Church to allow Christians who do not believe the host to be the actual Body of Christ to participate in the Body of Christ. The Christian Church in the West, then, is at an impasse. If Rome allows communion with Lutherans and Calvinists, it denies its Eucharistic theology and its Christology. If Rome denies communion with Lutherans and Calvinists, we remain a divided Church. And somewhere in the middle, we, the members of Christ's Church get caught. We are prevented from full communion with our brothers and sisters in Christ.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The Question of Authority Pt 2
In the previous post, I described the overall phenomenon of authority as well as the specific context of academic or scholastic authority. In this post, I would like to examine political authority as well as ecclesial (Church) authority--specifically wherein the authority lies, who acknowledges this authority, what is good or bad about it and how we ought to be aware of these things.
The state has been the subject of much philosophical thought and writing. Philosophers from as far back as Plato to even contemporary political scientists and philosophers have taken up the task of understanding political authority. Most college students are familiar with, even if they haven't read, works such as The Republic, Leviathan, Treatise on Government, The Communist Manifesto, etc. Nearly every "Civics" student has read the Declaration of Independence as well as the US Constitution and probably the Magna Carter as well. It would be pointless and futile to attempt to discuss what all of these documents state, but let it suffice that they all treat of proper governance.
All history (written history) speaks of the existence of political powers. However, what is not made clear by much history is how or why political entities exist. What is much more clear, based on histories about wars or revolutions, is that governments are subject to overthrow or replacement if occasion arises and necessitates. Such occasions are usually a matter of unjust governing, though sometimes they are mere facts of more powerful entities entering into conflict with the powers that be.
Suffice it to say, then that no single government, as history has shown us, has been unimpeachable. The revolutions in France throughout the nineteenth century as well as the rise and fall of Communism in Russia in the twentieth are two recent examples of this fact. Our own nation seems stable and solid. It is, however, important to realize first that the United States is only 235 years old (give or take) and that if there is anything to be learned by assassinations, political protests and riots, it is that we do not live in a utopia. Granted, we are not undergoing political unrest like Egypt is currently, but that is no indication of the permanence of the relative peace we have.
It should be acknowledged, then, that political authority is arbitrary authority. The fact of it is that the people ruled by the powers that be accept it as authoritative. As previously mentioned, from time to time the people reject the forces in power. When this takes place on a large enough scale, revolution is the general course of action. Political authority, then, lies, in a certain way, in the complacency of the people.
However, in the United States, unlike many other nations, national identity is of chiefest importance. The notion of "being American" is one of the most widely touted virtues of our society. The War in Iraq was a highly controversial military campaign in which anti-partiotism was a chief charge used against those who would not support the invasion. Similarly, radio, TV, and billboard ads suggest that we ought to vote, join the military, pay our taxes and do other things that connect us with the state. We don't always realize it, but this subtle psychological manipulation shapes our attitudes and our dispositions. Being "un-American" is almost the worst thing a person can be in our society. The question we ought to ask, however, is why that is the case and what exactly it means to be such.
There is also a bit of intimidation in practice. Normally when we think of political intimidation we think of tyrannical "democracies" (such as the political structure in Iran) or fascist regimes.We should also think of any case of police or military brutality. Even without the brutality, is it not true that we often obey certain laws, not because we believe they're correct or just, but merely because we fear the consequences?
The effect of the state as authoritative can be seen most clearly in American culture. As I said above, patriotism is, perhaps, the highest virtue in American popular consciousness. Because of this, certain positions taken by the state or actions done by state agencies can be justified in the name of patriotism. The "Patriot Act," for example, is an instance in which Americans allowed their privacy and freedom to be restricted in exchange for a sense (note: no guarantee) of safety. Similarly, at US airports, passengers trade their sense of decency and privacy for an imagined peace of mind. True, there are some protests, but the voices are nearly muted.
Additionally, any skilled rhetorician can appeal to patriotism with the vigor of Cicero and use it to bolster his case, however unsound or irrational it may be. Take Glenn Beck, for example. This talk show host never attempts to provide real evidence or logical arguments for his positions, yet he constantly attacks "left-wing nutjobs" as being inherently anti-American (and often with the implication that some dramatic course of action ought to be taken against the targets of his rage).
Furthermore, we can lose sight of our other virtues or values if we attend to closely to our allegiance to political authorities. Take, for example, the Cold War, wherein the entire American psyche was focused on building more armaments than our supposed enemy, the Soviet Union. How many people questioned the fact that the US and the USSR were enemies? What was the ground for the dispute? Was an economic system really a viable excuse for threatening the debilitating and dehumanizing act of war? Finally, was there any viable excuse for building enough weapons of mass destruction to destroy the entire world? Few were the voices of protest during this time, and often they were blacklisted or otherwise shunned. The rational mind SHOULD have realized that the political structures in place were a liability to not just Americans or Soviets, but to the entire human population.
The risks, then, of adhering too closely to political authority can range from a mere wrong order of virtues to the much more pernicious risk of global annihilation. Often a voice of dissent is in order. John Locke, one of the foremost thinkers on political theory suggested that should a government become a liability to the people, the people are obligated to overthrow it. On the other hand, for the time being, many governments help bring peace and order to certain regions. It is important to remember, however, as I have stated in previous posts, that anarchy itself is not necessarily an evil, though chaos, some of which exists within, and sometimes because of, political structures, is.
Much of what has been said about political authority is applicable to ecclesial authority. There are a few points to be observed, however. While history AND political theory agree that political power is subject to the agreement of the people, as far as ecclesial authority is concerned, history suggests it requires agreement while theology, canon law and ecclesiastical documents suggest otherwise.
Ecclesial authorities claim that their authority is divinely imbued. Religious figures, such as popes, prophets, caliphs, archbishops, high priests and dalai lamas all claim a privileged authoritative role granted by supernatural powers. The extent to which people follow a specific religion or at least adhere to the religious leaders of their faith shows how much they believe their specific ecclesial authorities have this divine call.
Ideally, a person will follow a specific faith because, after rational inquiry and investigation he finds that the faith provides for him whatever it is he feels he needs in his life. With his conversion, a person will also grant his religious leaders a certain amount of authority. One does not become Catholic if he thinks the pope has no credibility.
However, more often than not, people are born into a specific faith, and, because of their upbringing and the amount of indoctrination they experience, the authority of religious leaders will be a result of psychological manipulation. The unquestioning Catholic, for example, who thinks every word from the pope's mouth is the word of God, is a product of this psychological manipulation. Fortunately, many religions are increasingly emphasizing informed dissent and genuine investigation of authoritative positions. Thus, Catholics are encouraged to follow their conscience, even when it stands against official Church teaching, and are also advised to question any magisterial teaching. Unfortunately, some religions, such as Mormons and Evangelicals, believe that the leaders of the faith must be correct 100% of the time and to doubt their veracity is a grave sin.
Which leads to the use of intimidation in authoritative positions for religious leaders. While religions don't often use actual violence, especially in the last couple centuries, to reinforce authority, they do often use soteriological (salvation-oriented) intimidation. Points of faith that must be taken as undeniable or infallible for one's salvation illustrate the use of intimidation as a tool of retaining authority. The very notion that the pope can be infallible is enough to keep many Catholics from questioning magisterial teachings. No one wants to go to Hell. Some religious leaders, however, use the threat of Hell to give weight to their teachings or positions.
Of course, there are also many who are simply complacent in their faith. I've met many Jews who maintain their Jewish faith as part of their ethnic identity as well as a marker of who they personally feel that they are. Many Irish Catholics stay Catholic because of this, and many Utah Mormons also fit in this category. Family history and tradition can be a major influence on one's trust in one authority over another.
Religious authorities increasingly seek to promote rational thought and dialogue over unquestioned obedience. The Catholic Church, since Vatican II has encouraged questioning. The Dalai Lama has consistently promoted rational and informed decision making. Protestant churches, since the time of Martin Luther, have always questioned the notion of being unquestionably correct. There is nothing wrong with informed obedience. As followers of whatever faith we follow, it is our duty, as rational beings, to try to understand the tenets of our faith.
On the other hand, blind obedience can have detrimental effects. One has only to think of David Koresh, Jim Jones or the Heaven's Gate Cult to realize how blind obedience to religious authorities can have deadly effects, even today. Because of instances like this, or Imams encouraging their faithful to perform "suicide bombings," many have turned a skeptical eye towards religious authority in general, some even labeling it as wholly destructive.
It is important to understand that if we believe that God COULD have given authority to a certain person or institution, we also ought to believe that God endowed us with a spirit of discernment and rationality. If something seems to be counter-intuitive, it ought to be questioned. If something flat out rejects the precepts of reason, it ought to be rejected. If something seems right, it might be. Just like a political authority there are times when we ought to support the authority and follow it, and times when we need to realize the error of choosing such a path.
The state has been the subject of much philosophical thought and writing. Philosophers from as far back as Plato to even contemporary political scientists and philosophers have taken up the task of understanding political authority. Most college students are familiar with, even if they haven't read, works such as The Republic, Leviathan, Treatise on Government, The Communist Manifesto, etc. Nearly every "Civics" student has read the Declaration of Independence as well as the US Constitution and probably the Magna Carter as well. It would be pointless and futile to attempt to discuss what all of these documents state, but let it suffice that they all treat of proper governance.
All history (written history) speaks of the existence of political powers. However, what is not made clear by much history is how or why political entities exist. What is much more clear, based on histories about wars or revolutions, is that governments are subject to overthrow or replacement if occasion arises and necessitates. Such occasions are usually a matter of unjust governing, though sometimes they are mere facts of more powerful entities entering into conflict with the powers that be.
Suffice it to say, then that no single government, as history has shown us, has been unimpeachable. The revolutions in France throughout the nineteenth century as well as the rise and fall of Communism in Russia in the twentieth are two recent examples of this fact. Our own nation seems stable and solid. It is, however, important to realize first that the United States is only 235 years old (give or take) and that if there is anything to be learned by assassinations, political protests and riots, it is that we do not live in a utopia. Granted, we are not undergoing political unrest like Egypt is currently, but that is no indication of the permanence of the relative peace we have.
It should be acknowledged, then, that political authority is arbitrary authority. The fact of it is that the people ruled by the powers that be accept it as authoritative. As previously mentioned, from time to time the people reject the forces in power. When this takes place on a large enough scale, revolution is the general course of action. Political authority, then, lies, in a certain way, in the complacency of the people.
However, in the United States, unlike many other nations, national identity is of chiefest importance. The notion of "being American" is one of the most widely touted virtues of our society. The War in Iraq was a highly controversial military campaign in which anti-partiotism was a chief charge used against those who would not support the invasion. Similarly, radio, TV, and billboard ads suggest that we ought to vote, join the military, pay our taxes and do other things that connect us with the state. We don't always realize it, but this subtle psychological manipulation shapes our attitudes and our dispositions. Being "un-American" is almost the worst thing a person can be in our society. The question we ought to ask, however, is why that is the case and what exactly it means to be such.
There is also a bit of intimidation in practice. Normally when we think of political intimidation we think of tyrannical "democracies" (such as the political structure in Iran) or fascist regimes.We should also think of any case of police or military brutality. Even without the brutality, is it not true that we often obey certain laws, not because we believe they're correct or just, but merely because we fear the consequences?
The effect of the state as authoritative can be seen most clearly in American culture. As I said above, patriotism is, perhaps, the highest virtue in American popular consciousness. Because of this, certain positions taken by the state or actions done by state agencies can be justified in the name of patriotism. The "Patriot Act," for example, is an instance in which Americans allowed their privacy and freedom to be restricted in exchange for a sense (note: no guarantee) of safety. Similarly, at US airports, passengers trade their sense of decency and privacy for an imagined peace of mind. True, there are some protests, but the voices are nearly muted.
Additionally, any skilled rhetorician can appeal to patriotism with the vigor of Cicero and use it to bolster his case, however unsound or irrational it may be. Take Glenn Beck, for example. This talk show host never attempts to provide real evidence or logical arguments for his positions, yet he constantly attacks "left-wing nutjobs" as being inherently anti-American (and often with the implication that some dramatic course of action ought to be taken against the targets of his rage).
Furthermore, we can lose sight of our other virtues or values if we attend to closely to our allegiance to political authorities. Take, for example, the Cold War, wherein the entire American psyche was focused on building more armaments than our supposed enemy, the Soviet Union. How many people questioned the fact that the US and the USSR were enemies? What was the ground for the dispute? Was an economic system really a viable excuse for threatening the debilitating and dehumanizing act of war? Finally, was there any viable excuse for building enough weapons of mass destruction to destroy the entire world? Few were the voices of protest during this time, and often they were blacklisted or otherwise shunned. The rational mind SHOULD have realized that the political structures in place were a liability to not just Americans or Soviets, but to the entire human population.
The risks, then, of adhering too closely to political authority can range from a mere wrong order of virtues to the much more pernicious risk of global annihilation. Often a voice of dissent is in order. John Locke, one of the foremost thinkers on political theory suggested that should a government become a liability to the people, the people are obligated to overthrow it. On the other hand, for the time being, many governments help bring peace and order to certain regions. It is important to remember, however, as I have stated in previous posts, that anarchy itself is not necessarily an evil, though chaos, some of which exists within, and sometimes because of, political structures, is.
Much of what has been said about political authority is applicable to ecclesial authority. There are a few points to be observed, however. While history AND political theory agree that political power is subject to the agreement of the people, as far as ecclesial authority is concerned, history suggests it requires agreement while theology, canon law and ecclesiastical documents suggest otherwise.
Ecclesial authorities claim that their authority is divinely imbued. Religious figures, such as popes, prophets, caliphs, archbishops, high priests and dalai lamas all claim a privileged authoritative role granted by supernatural powers. The extent to which people follow a specific religion or at least adhere to the religious leaders of their faith shows how much they believe their specific ecclesial authorities have this divine call.
Ideally, a person will follow a specific faith because, after rational inquiry and investigation he finds that the faith provides for him whatever it is he feels he needs in his life. With his conversion, a person will also grant his religious leaders a certain amount of authority. One does not become Catholic if he thinks the pope has no credibility.
However, more often than not, people are born into a specific faith, and, because of their upbringing and the amount of indoctrination they experience, the authority of religious leaders will be a result of psychological manipulation. The unquestioning Catholic, for example, who thinks every word from the pope's mouth is the word of God, is a product of this psychological manipulation. Fortunately, many religions are increasingly emphasizing informed dissent and genuine investigation of authoritative positions. Thus, Catholics are encouraged to follow their conscience, even when it stands against official Church teaching, and are also advised to question any magisterial teaching. Unfortunately, some religions, such as Mormons and Evangelicals, believe that the leaders of the faith must be correct 100% of the time and to doubt their veracity is a grave sin.
Which leads to the use of intimidation in authoritative positions for religious leaders. While religions don't often use actual violence, especially in the last couple centuries, to reinforce authority, they do often use soteriological (salvation-oriented) intimidation. Points of faith that must be taken as undeniable or infallible for one's salvation illustrate the use of intimidation as a tool of retaining authority. The very notion that the pope can be infallible is enough to keep many Catholics from questioning magisterial teachings. No one wants to go to Hell. Some religious leaders, however, use the threat of Hell to give weight to their teachings or positions.
Of course, there are also many who are simply complacent in their faith. I've met many Jews who maintain their Jewish faith as part of their ethnic identity as well as a marker of who they personally feel that they are. Many Irish Catholics stay Catholic because of this, and many Utah Mormons also fit in this category. Family history and tradition can be a major influence on one's trust in one authority over another.
Religious authorities increasingly seek to promote rational thought and dialogue over unquestioned obedience. The Catholic Church, since Vatican II has encouraged questioning. The Dalai Lama has consistently promoted rational and informed decision making. Protestant churches, since the time of Martin Luther, have always questioned the notion of being unquestionably correct. There is nothing wrong with informed obedience. As followers of whatever faith we follow, it is our duty, as rational beings, to try to understand the tenets of our faith.
On the other hand, blind obedience can have detrimental effects. One has only to think of David Koresh, Jim Jones or the Heaven's Gate Cult to realize how blind obedience to religious authorities can have deadly effects, even today. Because of instances like this, or Imams encouraging their faithful to perform "suicide bombings," many have turned a skeptical eye towards religious authority in general, some even labeling it as wholly destructive.
It is important to understand that if we believe that God COULD have given authority to a certain person or institution, we also ought to believe that God endowed us with a spirit of discernment and rationality. If something seems to be counter-intuitive, it ought to be questioned. If something flat out rejects the precepts of reason, it ought to be rejected. If something seems right, it might be. Just like a political authority there are times when we ought to support the authority and follow it, and times when we need to realize the error of choosing such a path.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
The Question of Authority Pt 1
If there is anything that most non-Catholic Christians accuse Catholicism of wrongly being, it's excessively papal. The Magisterium is, for many Protestants and Orthodox, a stumbling block and a scandal. The fact that most Catholics believe that "infallibility" means the pope is never wrong and that everything that comes out of the Vatican is the word of God only helps make this problem worse. This raises, for non-Catholics, the question of authority. Many Catholics, myself included, even question the authority of a body of old, celibate, European clerics when it comes to life in the regular world.
It is my goal to look briefly at examples of authority and attempt to make sense of what really goes into them. This post will examine both the nature of authority and discuss intellectual authority. The next post will discuss political and ecclesial authority.
There are many factors that contribute to what exactly authority is. Different disciplines would even give different definitions and different explanations for it. The political scientist would provide an explanation of power dynamics. The social Darwinist could explain strength and how different attributes, such as brute force, intelligence and charisma affect authority. We will begin our discussion, however, with a look to political philosophers.
John Locke and Thomas Hobbes place the authority of governing structures in the human necessity for protection. For Locke, the authority of a political structure only lies in its ability to successfully benefit the populace. For Hobbes, the political structure necessarily requires authoritative figures to protect us from ourselves. For Friedrich Nietzsche, authority is much more complex and is attributable to several competing factors. One such factor is brute strength and violence, an attribute he gives to the now infamous "blond beast" of ancient Europe. Another such factor is cunning and intellectual manipulation, which he attributes to the "weaker" faiths of Judaism and Christianity.
It seems to me that Nietzsche is partially right, at least when it comes to the intellectual portion. People see some agency or person as an authority because they see that person as well-versed and competent in whatever it is he or she is doing. This attribution may be due to intimidation, psychological manipulation, rational evaluation, or simply complacency.
Intimidation, or fear-based authority, is respect for a person or organization due to what one is afraid that person or agency might do. For example, I might consider the king's authority to be legitimate because he killed the previous king, and if I refuse to cooperate, he could kill me as well. Similarly, a child might be afraid of her parents' anger. This is often the authority that binds more vicious people to the law, but can also be seen in examples of harsh teachers, whom students might not respect intellectually but might fear poor marks, or some preachers, who might preach Hell and damnation for disobedience.
Psychological manipulation, it seems to me, is the most common form of authoritative respect. Buzz words to look out for in this style of authority are "brainwashing," "propaganda," "peer-pressure" and "coercion." While intimidation relies on threats and fear, psychological manipulation does better and relies on people actually believing the authority of a subject based mostly on words. The proper way to garner this trust in authority is rhetoric. Generally, a person we trust, one whose authority we already have established, shares with us her trust in another person or institution. Because we respect the judgment and the authority of the person who tells us this, we, in turn, begin to trust the authority of whatever it is she is promoting. Commonly, one hears, "Becky swears by it," or "Joe says she's a great professor," however it is not strictly limited to choosing an authority. Once we have placed our trust in an authority, the rhetoric of that authority, as long as we have no reason to doubt it, will only strengthen its authoritative power over us. This, then, is the arena that people often find patriotism, ecclesiastic loyalty, partisanship, and brand loyalty. Often the authority is not a person, but a group, thus, it holds more sway by sheer numbers.
Rational Inquiry is the most basic form of trust in authority and occurs mostly on the level of persons. As I get to know a person and his or her ideals, I begin to question whether or not he is worth my confidence. As happens sometimes, this could be prevented by my trust in other authorities, perhaps because I belong to a certain religious of philosophical school and he belongs to another, or because our political views are influenced by different political camps. This, then, is the tragedy of the psychological manipulation mentioned above. If our cultured biases interfere with our ability to rationally judge the veracity of a supposed authority, then we have failed to truly understand what authority is. Notable examples of this are Conservatives who dismiss the authority of Ecologists or atheists who dismiss Christian Ethicists. A truly rationally curious approach would examine the technique and the motivation of the authority. A talk-show host who utilizes irrational accusations, baseless claims and appeals to the Ethos is most often less trustworthy than the biologist who utilizes the scientific method and produces results open to scrutiny and replication. The problem, however, of rational inquiry is that it requires a discerning spirit as well as a hard work.
Then there are instances where people are not swayed by appeals to the Pathos, Ethos or Logos. Due to laziness, confusion or apathy, some people attribute authority to those whom they think "probably just know better." This is often the case with people like the lapsed Catholic or the discontent American. He might not agree with the Church on many issues, but because he feels a certain loyalty to it, he will follow regardless, and likely not attempt to reconcile the cognitive dissonance he feels. Similarly, he might regard the decisions and politics of the government as foolish and futile, but going to the ballot box he'll choose the candidate that he thinks will be less likely to make a mess of things. This is the trust of the pessimist. He thinks nothing good will arise, but he sees no preferable alternative.
These four sources, it seems to me, are the main ways in which we decide which authorities to listen to. They appeal, as previously mentioned, to the Pathos, the Ethos and the Logos and often struggle against other competing voices.
In the intellectual world, our trust in authority often depends on matters of psychological manipulation and rational inquiry. We trust a person or an institution as an intellectual authority usually because we have studied its tenets and found them reasonable. We distrust others because we have found them lacking, or because we have been convinced by other authorities that they are wrong.
In academia, this is most often found in the subjects of philosophy and theology. Theologians often have differing theologies, many of which are incompatible with others, but the average theologian will attempt to achieve "balance" by not decrying those of differing mindsets. However, due to the breadth of theological query, which covers two thousand years of thought and most cultures of the world, there are many times when theories compete. Philosophers, on the other hand, are less likely to gingerly talk about their opponents. Since philosophers are usually not operating under a pre-determined set of doctrines or rules, they experience much more freedom to outwardly deny other philosophies and to freely label other philosophers as fools.
Disciplines where one does not usually see competing schools of thought tend to be the hard sciences, though physicists often argue about string theory versus quantum mechanics versus special relativity. The arts and humanities, such as literature, psychology and linguistics often have differing and opposing views, but, at the end of the day their differences aren't of the same sort of soteriological (saving) or eschatological (end of the world) significance as philosophers and theologians tend to think of their differences.
Often times, when a person decides one school of intellectual thought is right for her, she normally decides so on the basis of what she is used to, what seems most rational or simple to her, or what seems to validate her experience. The mystic is less likely to embrace a purely rationalistic theology than he is an ascetically oriented one, and the existentially curious reader will be more likely to read Sartre than Jane Austen.
Of course, as mentioned before, there is also a great deal of psychological manipulation that influences our decision in intellectual matters as well. Someone raised in a staunch, conservative Baptist household is probably not going to give much credence to the radical Catholic theology of Michael Baxter. On the other hand, a student raised to value empiricism and scientific methodology is more likely to respect Thomas Watson and Albert Einstein as intellectual authorities than he is to respect Jerry Falwell or Billy Graham.
It is my goal to look briefly at examples of authority and attempt to make sense of what really goes into them. This post will examine both the nature of authority and discuss intellectual authority. The next post will discuss political and ecclesial authority.
There are many factors that contribute to what exactly authority is. Different disciplines would even give different definitions and different explanations for it. The political scientist would provide an explanation of power dynamics. The social Darwinist could explain strength and how different attributes, such as brute force, intelligence and charisma affect authority. We will begin our discussion, however, with a look to political philosophers.
John Locke and Thomas Hobbes place the authority of governing structures in the human necessity for protection. For Locke, the authority of a political structure only lies in its ability to successfully benefit the populace. For Hobbes, the political structure necessarily requires authoritative figures to protect us from ourselves. For Friedrich Nietzsche, authority is much more complex and is attributable to several competing factors. One such factor is brute strength and violence, an attribute he gives to the now infamous "blond beast" of ancient Europe. Another such factor is cunning and intellectual manipulation, which he attributes to the "weaker" faiths of Judaism and Christianity.
It seems to me that Nietzsche is partially right, at least when it comes to the intellectual portion. People see some agency or person as an authority because they see that person as well-versed and competent in whatever it is he or she is doing. This attribution may be due to intimidation, psychological manipulation, rational evaluation, or simply complacency.
Intimidation, or fear-based authority, is respect for a person or organization due to what one is afraid that person or agency might do. For example, I might consider the king's authority to be legitimate because he killed the previous king, and if I refuse to cooperate, he could kill me as well. Similarly, a child might be afraid of her parents' anger. This is often the authority that binds more vicious people to the law, but can also be seen in examples of harsh teachers, whom students might not respect intellectually but might fear poor marks, or some preachers, who might preach Hell and damnation for disobedience.
Psychological manipulation, it seems to me, is the most common form of authoritative respect. Buzz words to look out for in this style of authority are "brainwashing," "propaganda," "peer-pressure" and "coercion." While intimidation relies on threats and fear, psychological manipulation does better and relies on people actually believing the authority of a subject based mostly on words. The proper way to garner this trust in authority is rhetoric. Generally, a person we trust, one whose authority we already have established, shares with us her trust in another person or institution. Because we respect the judgment and the authority of the person who tells us this, we, in turn, begin to trust the authority of whatever it is she is promoting. Commonly, one hears, "Becky swears by it," or "Joe says she's a great professor," however it is not strictly limited to choosing an authority. Once we have placed our trust in an authority, the rhetoric of that authority, as long as we have no reason to doubt it, will only strengthen its authoritative power over us. This, then, is the arena that people often find patriotism, ecclesiastic loyalty, partisanship, and brand loyalty. Often the authority is not a person, but a group, thus, it holds more sway by sheer numbers.
Rational Inquiry is the most basic form of trust in authority and occurs mostly on the level of persons. As I get to know a person and his or her ideals, I begin to question whether or not he is worth my confidence. As happens sometimes, this could be prevented by my trust in other authorities, perhaps because I belong to a certain religious of philosophical school and he belongs to another, or because our political views are influenced by different political camps. This, then, is the tragedy of the psychological manipulation mentioned above. If our cultured biases interfere with our ability to rationally judge the veracity of a supposed authority, then we have failed to truly understand what authority is. Notable examples of this are Conservatives who dismiss the authority of Ecologists or atheists who dismiss Christian Ethicists. A truly rationally curious approach would examine the technique and the motivation of the authority. A talk-show host who utilizes irrational accusations, baseless claims and appeals to the Ethos is most often less trustworthy than the biologist who utilizes the scientific method and produces results open to scrutiny and replication. The problem, however, of rational inquiry is that it requires a discerning spirit as well as a hard work.
Then there are instances where people are not swayed by appeals to the Pathos, Ethos or Logos. Due to laziness, confusion or apathy, some people attribute authority to those whom they think "probably just know better." This is often the case with people like the lapsed Catholic or the discontent American. He might not agree with the Church on many issues, but because he feels a certain loyalty to it, he will follow regardless, and likely not attempt to reconcile the cognitive dissonance he feels. Similarly, he might regard the decisions and politics of the government as foolish and futile, but going to the ballot box he'll choose the candidate that he thinks will be less likely to make a mess of things. This is the trust of the pessimist. He thinks nothing good will arise, but he sees no preferable alternative.
These four sources, it seems to me, are the main ways in which we decide which authorities to listen to. They appeal, as previously mentioned, to the Pathos, the Ethos and the Logos and often struggle against other competing voices.
In the intellectual world, our trust in authority often depends on matters of psychological manipulation and rational inquiry. We trust a person or an institution as an intellectual authority usually because we have studied its tenets and found them reasonable. We distrust others because we have found them lacking, or because we have been convinced by other authorities that they are wrong.
In academia, this is most often found in the subjects of philosophy and theology. Theologians often have differing theologies, many of which are incompatible with others, but the average theologian will attempt to achieve "balance" by not decrying those of differing mindsets. However, due to the breadth of theological query, which covers two thousand years of thought and most cultures of the world, there are many times when theories compete. Philosophers, on the other hand, are less likely to gingerly talk about their opponents. Since philosophers are usually not operating under a pre-determined set of doctrines or rules, they experience much more freedom to outwardly deny other philosophies and to freely label other philosophers as fools.
Disciplines where one does not usually see competing schools of thought tend to be the hard sciences, though physicists often argue about string theory versus quantum mechanics versus special relativity. The arts and humanities, such as literature, psychology and linguistics often have differing and opposing views, but, at the end of the day their differences aren't of the same sort of soteriological (saving) or eschatological (end of the world) significance as philosophers and theologians tend to think of their differences.
Often times, when a person decides one school of intellectual thought is right for her, she normally decides so on the basis of what she is used to, what seems most rational or simple to her, or what seems to validate her experience. The mystic is less likely to embrace a purely rationalistic theology than he is an ascetically oriented one, and the existentially curious reader will be more likely to read Sartre than Jane Austen.
Of course, as mentioned before, there is also a great deal of psychological manipulation that influences our decision in intellectual matters as well. Someone raised in a staunch, conservative Baptist household is probably not going to give much credence to the radical Catholic theology of Michael Baxter. On the other hand, a student raised to value empiricism and scientific methodology is more likely to respect Thomas Watson and Albert Einstein as intellectual authorities than he is to respect Jerry Falwell or Billy Graham.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Verbosity as a tragedy
If there's one thing I cannot stand about theologians, it's how removed they often are from ordinary life. On one level, it's easy to see that the priest, who is taken care of financially by the diocese, who is not married, who spends all day studying theology and whose every move is checked and instructed by the Church, cannot truly relate to most of his parish on many levels. But this is a topic for another day and, perhaps another rant (as a theology student, it can be extremely frustrating knowing that there's no money to be made in theology, so while I put myself in debt there's no financial pay-off while people in religious orders often get tuition and living expenses covered).
What I mean to say is that often the things we talk about in theology classrooms are so far removed from both comprehensibility and practicality that it seems like we're talking for our own benefits. I've had plenty of professors who seem to just enjoy the sound of their voices. So the problem is, I think, twofold. First, I think there's a problem of actually seeing how what we're studying has any real application. Luckily, since I study at the School of Theology and MINISTRY, there are a lot of ministers in my classes who make the professors aware of this problem. Additionally, in moral theology classes, at least, the very subject matter is of such a nature that it is supposed to be directly applicable. While there is a lot of talk of theory and formulae, moral theology is really where the aetherial musings of theologians materialize. Abortion, gay marriage, suicide, euthanasia, politics, work and wages, the plight of the poor--essentially the actual happenings in the lives of the faithful--are the real topics of moral debate.
The second problem, however, is much harder to address and fix. Theologians often like to use and incorporate language that is often confusing and usually unnecessary. Then, they often use the terms as if they're obvious when, in fact, they often mean different things depending on the person.
Take, for example, objectivity and subjectivity, two terms which, I believe, were started by the ever-so-confusing German philosopher Immanuel Kant. Objectivity, in one usage, means what is actually the case. Subjectivity, on the other hand, is "just your opinion." However, another usage of objectivity is looking towards the object, in other words "your perspective" and another usage of subjectivity is looking towards oneself, in other words "introspection." However, rather than using terms that are much easier to remember and follow, theologians often opt to interchange objectivity and subjectivity in such a way that one finds himself reading the same passage multiple times to tease out the meaning only to realize at the end that the solution was simple and just confusingly worded.
One of my roommates, in her zeal to show her enthusiasm for Systematic Theology purchased a fridge magnet with one of those quotes on it, the kind that normally are supposed to either inspire, comfort or amuse. On the magnet was a quote from Bernard Lonnergan, a Jesuit theologian, and the quote said, "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity." While I would first rather have something like a quote about teamwork posted on my fridge rather than some out of context quote that means nothing to the average person, I decided to actually ponder the meaning. It seems to me that what is meant by this quote is that objectivity, according to my first definition, is the result of subjectivity, according to the second definition. In other words, seeing the way something is happens when we practice introspection. I don't know about the other readers out there, but I would rather read something like that as an inspirational quote over "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity" any day.
but those borrowed philosophical terms aren't even the extent of it. Within theology, especially "systematics" (already NOT a self-apparent term) there are several smaller branches whose meanings are just as cryptic or non-apparent. There's ecclesiology, or the way the Church runs, soteriology, or how we're saved, christology, or Jesus and the Trinity, apologetics, or defending the faith, eschatology, or the end times, exegesis, or interpreting Scripture, and others. Most of the terms are fanciful but unnecessary. It's almost as if theologians feel the need to come up with specific terms for anything that they might find interesting just in order to give it more credibility as a discipline. The problem, of course, comes when one tries to actually relate it to anybody who hasn't studied theology for years.
Then, of course, the terms get put into buzz-word formulas. In business meetings one might hear, "We need to actuate more synergy by cooperative endeavors" but in theology it's even more confusing. One of my professors this week made a joke about St Paul and stated, "His christology is his soteriology." Would it not be much easier to simply say, "He believed our salvation was only through Christ?" Another professor of mine gave a homily today in which he stated we need to make the subjunctive into the indicative. Not only was that a reference that only a theologian would understand, but he would also have to be grammatically familiar with a language that has both subjunctive and indicative like Latin. It occurred to me that the priest, God bless him, was trying more to impress with his knowledge of grammar and the liturgy than he was trying to give an actual lesson.
Alasdair MacIntyre, no small name in his own right, once said in a class that one should not pretend to have mastered a concept until he can explain it to his grandmother who only has a third grade education. This seems quite applicable, as I can't even understand some of what these elite professors are talking about, even with a grad student's level of understanding.
The cultured despisers of the world often criticize theists for being ignorant and uneducated. Truth be told, most of the theologians I have met have been legions more intelligent than the likes of Christopher Hitchens, Charles Dawkins, Samuel Dennet et al. How, though, is anybody in the world supposed to know this when we theologians use overinflated language and tend to confuse rather than explain. I'm not saying the content needs to be watered down or lightened, heaven forbid, but rather that rather than using bombastic terms like "objectivity" or "soteriology," why is it that we cannot actually say what we mean?
What I mean to say is that often the things we talk about in theology classrooms are so far removed from both comprehensibility and practicality that it seems like we're talking for our own benefits. I've had plenty of professors who seem to just enjoy the sound of their voices. So the problem is, I think, twofold. First, I think there's a problem of actually seeing how what we're studying has any real application. Luckily, since I study at the School of Theology and MINISTRY, there are a lot of ministers in my classes who make the professors aware of this problem. Additionally, in moral theology classes, at least, the very subject matter is of such a nature that it is supposed to be directly applicable. While there is a lot of talk of theory and formulae, moral theology is really where the aetherial musings of theologians materialize. Abortion, gay marriage, suicide, euthanasia, politics, work and wages, the plight of the poor--essentially the actual happenings in the lives of the faithful--are the real topics of moral debate.
The second problem, however, is much harder to address and fix. Theologians often like to use and incorporate language that is often confusing and usually unnecessary. Then, they often use the terms as if they're obvious when, in fact, they often mean different things depending on the person.
Take, for example, objectivity and subjectivity, two terms which, I believe, were started by the ever-so-confusing German philosopher Immanuel Kant. Objectivity, in one usage, means what is actually the case. Subjectivity, on the other hand, is "just your opinion." However, another usage of objectivity is looking towards the object, in other words "your perspective" and another usage of subjectivity is looking towards oneself, in other words "introspection." However, rather than using terms that are much easier to remember and follow, theologians often opt to interchange objectivity and subjectivity in such a way that one finds himself reading the same passage multiple times to tease out the meaning only to realize at the end that the solution was simple and just confusingly worded.
One of my roommates, in her zeal to show her enthusiasm for Systematic Theology purchased a fridge magnet with one of those quotes on it, the kind that normally are supposed to either inspire, comfort or amuse. On the magnet was a quote from Bernard Lonnergan, a Jesuit theologian, and the quote said, "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity." While I would first rather have something like a quote about teamwork posted on my fridge rather than some out of context quote that means nothing to the average person, I decided to actually ponder the meaning. It seems to me that what is meant by this quote is that objectivity, according to my first definition, is the result of subjectivity, according to the second definition. In other words, seeing the way something is happens when we practice introspection. I don't know about the other readers out there, but I would rather read something like that as an inspirational quote over "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity" any day.
but those borrowed philosophical terms aren't even the extent of it. Within theology, especially "systematics" (already NOT a self-apparent term) there are several smaller branches whose meanings are just as cryptic or non-apparent. There's ecclesiology, or the way the Church runs, soteriology, or how we're saved, christology, or Jesus and the Trinity, apologetics, or defending the faith, eschatology, or the end times, exegesis, or interpreting Scripture, and others. Most of the terms are fanciful but unnecessary. It's almost as if theologians feel the need to come up with specific terms for anything that they might find interesting just in order to give it more credibility as a discipline. The problem, of course, comes when one tries to actually relate it to anybody who hasn't studied theology for years.
Then, of course, the terms get put into buzz-word formulas. In business meetings one might hear, "We need to actuate more synergy by cooperative endeavors" but in theology it's even more confusing. One of my professors this week made a joke about St Paul and stated, "His christology is his soteriology." Would it not be much easier to simply say, "He believed our salvation was only through Christ?" Another professor of mine gave a homily today in which he stated we need to make the subjunctive into the indicative. Not only was that a reference that only a theologian would understand, but he would also have to be grammatically familiar with a language that has both subjunctive and indicative like Latin. It occurred to me that the priest, God bless him, was trying more to impress with his knowledge of grammar and the liturgy than he was trying to give an actual lesson.
Alasdair MacIntyre, no small name in his own right, once said in a class that one should not pretend to have mastered a concept until he can explain it to his grandmother who only has a third grade education. This seems quite applicable, as I can't even understand some of what these elite professors are talking about, even with a grad student's level of understanding.
The cultured despisers of the world often criticize theists for being ignorant and uneducated. Truth be told, most of the theologians I have met have been legions more intelligent than the likes of Christopher Hitchens, Charles Dawkins, Samuel Dennet et al. How, though, is anybody in the world supposed to know this when we theologians use overinflated language and tend to confuse rather than explain. I'm not saying the content needs to be watered down or lightened, heaven forbid, but rather that rather than using bombastic terms like "objectivity" or "soteriology," why is it that we cannot actually say what we mean?
Friday, January 14, 2011
The Published Article!!
After waiting the better part of a year, my article is finally out! In December's edition of Interreligious Insights, under the title "The Mormon Godhead and the Christian Trinity" my research article was finally published.
Link to the article
Link to the article
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