Dwarfs and Giants Podcast

 

“Philosophy without the history of philosophy, if not empty or blind, is at least dumb.”

- Wilfrid Sellars, Sciene and Metaphysics: Variations on Kantian Themes (1965)

My good friend Angus Courtney has started his own podcast! It’s very good, and can be found either on iTunes under ‘Dwarfs and Giants’, or on his website http://www.dwarfsandgiants.com/

The podcasts seem to be about history and theology, particularly about how history may have subtly shaped theological ideas and our reactions to them. If you are into either of these topics, or are into listening to smooth, calming baritones speak to you through your iPod, you should check it out!

I’ll be listening.

Rowan Williams on Liberal Theology

What characterizes theological liberalism is its habit of cultural sensitivity and intellectual flexibility that does not seek to close down unexpected questions too quickly.

– Rowan Williams, ‘The Challenge and Hope of Being an Anglican Today’ (2006)

A hallmark of evangelicalism’s self-identity is its separation from theological liberalism. However, when the distinction is leaned on, it can sometimes be hard to see exactly what this distinction consists in, and what is virtuous about the evangelical position.  Without, of course, wanting to detract from evangelicalism, I found this quote from the current Archbishop of Canterbury to be quite thought-provoking. Meeting unexpected questions with patience and care sounds like something  pretty good, and isn’t incompatible with creedal fidelity.

Dogmatism, Anathema Theories, and the ‘Handmaiden of Theology’

A friend recently introduced me to an article by the Australian philosopher Bruce Langtry. Langtry is also a Christian, and in a brief piece attempts to sketch ways in which Christianity and philosophy may come together and come apart. Here is a quote I agree with:

The intellectual vice of dogmatism enters in only when one is unwilling to subject one’s beliefs to critical scrutiny, and when one is in principle closed to the possibility of abandoning one’s beliefs in the light of good objections. But there is no reason why a Christian must or should be dogmatic in this sense.

– Bruce Langtry ‘A Christian and a Philosopher’, The Briefing #121, p.7

I totally agree with this statement, and I suspect Saint Paul would too. Paul seemed open to abandoning his faith in the light of good objections. He wrote ,’If Christ has not been raised [from the dead] our preaching is useless and so is your faith…If only for this life we have hoped in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men.’ (1 Corinthians 15.14, 19) If someone could convince Paul that Jesus did not in fact rise from the dead, then he says he would not be a Christian.

However, I like this statement less:

Certain philosophical theories are incompatible with Christianity. For example, cultural relativism is the doctrine that moral statements correspond merely to the conventions of a particular society and possess no universal validity. We Christians must reject cultural relativism at many points, for example, in what we say about God’s nature and about sin.

Let me first say what doesn’t bother me about this, so that I’m not misunderstood. It is not that Langtry switches from a tolerant stance to a dogmatic stance; that at one moment is saying that Christians shouldn’t be dogmatic, and then at the next he is saying that there are views Christians can never endorse. I don’t think this second statement interferes with his earlier one about freedom from dogmatism. You can, of course, reject viewpoints thoughtfully and fairly without being a dogmatist – philosophers do this all the time.

What bothers me about this second statement is the way philosophical theories can cloud the message of Christianity, and can sneak their way into the centre. Since when was the message of Christianity: ‘that moral conventions are not merely the conventions of a particular society and possess universal validity’? Since when was Jesus concerned about cultural relativism? I thought he was on about the Kingdom of God being near.

This approach to Christianity and Philosophy carves the intellectual world into good and bad theories – good theories which explain and justify Christian belief; bad theories which are incompatible with Christianity or which call it into question. The picture seems far too simplistic to me, and rejects outright the possibility of the anathema philosophical theories calling into question the theories which the Christians happen to hold onto.

This approach mistakes theories which people formulate as an attempt to articulate their Christian belief with their Christian belief itself – they mistake their theories for gospel truth.

Imagine you are a Nineteenth-Century British Evangelical who is quite sure, though you have never really looked into it, that it is good and proper for women not to vote. Are you ever going to read John Stuart Mill’s The Subjugation of Women and think that it could have anything of value to tell you? Probably not, since it would most likely fall into the anathema philosophical theories camp.

I suspect that the reason something like this view gains any force is because many Christian philosophers and theologians think that the only purpose of philosophy is to help theologians to do their job – to clarify concepts and provide forms of reasoning. That is, it has no particular contribution to make, outside of how it can be helpful for theology. Langtry says something like this when he says:

Insofar as theology has this broad scope, it cannot avoid philosophy…Theologians have little option but to use philosophical premises in developing their theological theories…Theologians must have recourse to philosophical arguments.

In the same magazine another writer, Phil Dowe, writes:

Studying philosophy…can teach you to think logically. It can train you in the art of convincing people with reasons. It can unlock for you…the way people think.

– Phil Dowe, ‘Philosophy? You Mustn’t Be Serious?’, p.8

If your conception of the proper purpose and function of philosophy is limited to ‘helping theology do it’s job’, then it makes sense to divide the intellectual world up into good and bad theories. But what if philosophy is much more than this? Christians try to listen to scientists for reasons other than it will help them do theology, Christians often listen to political commentators and art critics for other reasons than it will help them do theology, Christians often listen to educational and medical theorists for reasons other than it will help them do theology – why is philosophy then mostly only thought of by Christians as being worthwhile and helpful insofar as it will help you do theology?

This, of course, begs far more questions than it answers. But don’t all good blog posts…

Johannine Philosophy: John Calvin and John Paul II on the Purpose of Philosophy

One of the reasons for my starting this blog was to try to think through what the best relationship between Christianity and an activity like philosophy could be. See my first post here. It’s my hope that this question interests not only those who dabble in philosophy, but other Christians who may be curious whether there is a relationship between their vocations or areas of work; their hobbies or ‘regular/neutral’ activity, and their belief that Jesus Christ rose from the dead and is now Lord. Art, sport, commerce, music, law, government, medicine, media – you name it! – how should anything like this fit with my faith? This is the question of integration.

Anyway, this big question which motivates my blogging is sometimes obscured by all the small, fragmented posts which tip-toe around this issue and poke it with a stick.

But here is a quote which tackles this central question head on. And it’s from none other than – the Pope! Or at least, a previous Pope. Read this quote a few times, and think about whether

1) You think this is a good picture of faith and philosophy, and

2) Whether this principle that John Paul II is espousing is one that throws any other areas of your life into a helpful light. The quote is somewhat bizarre, but pretty stimulating I think.

Put your thinking caps on…

Just as the Virgin was called to offer herself fully as human being and as woman that God’s Word might take flesh and come among us, so too philosophy is called to offer its critical and rational resources that theology, as the understanding of faith,  may be fruitful and creative. And just how in giving her assent to Gabriel’s word, Mary lost nothing of her true humanity and freedom, so too when philosophy heeds to the summons of the Gospel’s truth its autonomy is in no way impaired. Indeed it is then that philosophy sees all its enquires rise to their highest expression. This was a truth which the holy monks of Christian antiquity understood well when they called Mary ‘the table at which faith sits in thought’.

– John Paul II, Fides et Ratio (1998)

To my lights, this quote walks a tightrope which many theories of integration walk. On the one hand, it affirms that God exists, and that all good things are created by God – including abstract human activities like philosophy. On the other hand, it wants to say that this human activity is at its best when it is orientated towards God, when it is talking about Christianity, when it is coming to the aid of the more important activity which is theology. This amounts to saying: created things are kinda good, but they need to be explicitly and fruitfully giving themselves over to the causes of God to be their best. From my (quite limited) reading, the most well-known Christian philosophy buys into this approach – such as Alvin Plantinga, William Lane Craig, J. P. Moreland, Norman Geisler etc.

What troubles me about this is the small place that this theory has for philosophy qua philosophy as a part of life. What troubles me about this is the implicit spiritual elitism which carves the world up into ‘religious’ and ‘secular’ categories and then maintains that the secular things are actually only good when they get a bit of the religious in them, or when they subordinate themselves to the religious. Implicit in this view is the idea that if you aren’t working full-time in ministry, theology, charity or some such endeavour, then you are doing something second rate.

This is a view which can then colour a whole outlook on life.

I think Calvin’s mysterious, restrained and humble remark is gesturing more in a direction I’m comfortable with. Calvin wrote,

Shall we say the philosophers were blind in their fine observation and artful description of nature? Shall we say that those men were devoid of understanding who conceived the art of disputation and taught us to speak reasonably?

– John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (1559), II.ii.15

We Don’t Solve Philosophical Problems, We Just Get Over Them.

Old ideas give way slowly; for they are more than abstract logical forms and categories. They are habits, predispositions, deeply engrained attitudes of aversion and preference. Moreover, the conviction persists – though history shows it to be a hallucination that all the questions that the human mind has asked are questions that can be answered in terms of alternatives that the questions themselves present. But in fact intellectual progress usually occurs through sheer abandonment of questions together with both of the alternatives they assume - an abandonment that results from their decreasing vitality and a change of urgent interest.

We don’t solve them: we get over them.

– John Dewey, The Influence of Darwin on Philosophy and Other Essays (1910), p. 19

The philosophical approach known as Pragmatism, of which John Dewey was a famous proponent, holds that not every philosophical questions is a good question. In fact, philosophical questions should not be seen as timeless logical problems which demand to be solved, but as issues which arise for a specific people, at a specific time. Philosophy should address the actual felt needs of a society.

In reading this quote it occurred to me how this could be a helpful insight into a possible relationship between Christian theology and philosophy. If we follow this pragmatist kind of method, Christians are free to reject many questions which philosophy may wish to bother it with. Next time a pointy-headed person presents you with a tangential problem which distracts from the actual felt need which Christianity addresses, tell them that you are so over answering questions like that.

This way of thinking is helpful in keeping Christianity from attempting to provide comprehensive answers to every philosophical question – some of which are ridiculous and outdated – and reminds it to keep focused on the present needs of real people. People that Christianity claims to have good news for.

Kierkegaard on Faith and Philosophy: IV. Theology

The God-man (Jesus) is not the union of God and Man – such terminology is a profound optical illusion. The God-man is the unity of God and an individual human being. That the human race is or is supposed to be in kinship with God is ancient paganism; but that an individual human being is God is Christianity, and this particular human being is the God-man. Humanly speaking, there is no possibility of a crazier composite than this either in heaven or on earth or in the abyss or in the most fantastic aberration of thought…The God-man is the paradox, absolutley the paradox.

Therefore, it is altogether certain that the understanding must come to a standstill on it…The possibility of offense is the crossroad, it is like standing in the crossroad. From the possibility of offense, one turns either to offense or to faith, but one never comes to faith except from the possibility of offense.

– Soren Kierkegaard, Practise in Christianity (1850), in The Essential Kierkegaard (Princeton UP, 2000), pp. 373-375.

Kierkegaard thought that theology, by nature, was in the business of producing paradoxes. The above quote on the Christian belief in the incarnation of God in the man Jesus illustrates this vividly. Kierkegaard rejects a philosophical abstraction which could do some work to tidy up the Christian belief, in order to embrace the messiness and confusion of the theological proposition. God did not, in some sense, become one with humankind, but the one person Jesus was a man and the one God. Confused?

Kierkegaard held that this is crazy, that this is a paradox, and that it is something which the understanding can only get so far with. He held that the Christian faith was full of such paradoxes, and the particular field of inquiry of theology was suitable to look into these things in a very limited sort of way, and not in a way which aspired to philosophically abstract or synthesize away the paradoxes.

However, he thought these were extremely significant and fruitful paradoxes, and were in fact not to be overcome. The reason for this is because paradox contains offense and offense leads to authentic choice.

When the mind is presented with a paradox and furthermore told that it is true, it is reasonable for the mind to be offended – to feel intellectually insulted. Kierkegaard thought that this is exactly what theology should be striving to do. Once such an offense is produced in the mind of the hearer, the hearer is faced with a choice: to either accept the paradox and move in faith towards to partly-known Other, or to remain offended and be done with religious things and especially their paradoxes. Kierkegaard believed that making such a choice was of extreme importance in religious matters, and theology ought to be of instrumental importance in functioning as a kind of antagonist which pushes an individual to such a moment of choice. Only out of such a moment could someone come to faith.

This conception of the role, aim, method and abilities of theology is far from uncontroversial in religious communities. Some vehemently oppose it, arguing that it combines a kind of pseudo-humility with mysticism and sacrifices a commitment to Truth. Many Christians insist that theology ought not be satisfied with paradox, but ought to strive after clarity and accuracy, or to act as a sort of translator which is able to translate the divine things into ordinary language. What do you think? Has Kierkegaard hit on something important, or is he totally off track?

This is the last post in the series on Kierkegaard. Check out also Knowledge, Ethics and Politics here.