Faith is belief in something concerning which doubt is theoretically possible. Since doubt is theoretically possible with respect to any belief, we cannot live or think at all without some degree of faith.
– William James, ‘The Sentiment of Rationality’ (1879), p. 79
Christians believe that faith is one of the most significant dimensions of human life. We think that faith ought to colour a person’s whole outlook, such that they can say that they walk by faith and not by sight. We think that faith is more significant than being a good person, since a person is in the end justified by faith alone. We think that faith will actually lead to a person living a loving, selfless and courageous life, since faith without good works isn’t really what we’re talking about. Perhaps most importantly, we think that our faith picks out and latches onto a very specific object – the risen Lord Jesus.
The above quote from Nineteenth-Century American philosopher William James (a founder of the philosophical tradition known as pragmatism, brother of Henry James the novelist, and one of the few philosophers that the great Ludwig Wittgenstein actually read) catches nothing of the richness of the Christian conception of faith, and nothing of its quite specific orientation. But it is a helpful quote since the very idea of ‘living by faith’ is a confusing and laughable notion to many people today. James suggests that every human life has movements of faith running through it.
Christianity doesn’t ask people to give up certainty, to give up questioning, in the name of blind faith. It asks them to have faith in a certain way, and particularly, to have faith in a certain person. It asks people to have faith differently to how they have faith now.
A paper of mine has been accepted for a conference! Admittedly, I do know the conference organizers and the conference is being held at Sydney University, but cause to blog nonetheless I think. You can check out my abstract here (scroll down towards the bottom) if you are interested. The conference in called New Horizons in Political Philosophy and will be held at Sydney University on 26-27 November, 2009.
There is no place for ‘isms’ in philosophy. The alleged party issues are never the important philosophic questions, and to be affiliated to a recognizable party is to be the slave of a non-philosophic prejudice in favour of a (usually non-philosophic) article of belief. To be a ’so-and-so ist’ is to be philosophically frail.
– Gilbert Ryle, ‘Taking Sides in Philosophy’ (1937)
Someone who has different views about the subject matter of a particular science is simply not engaged in that particular field. And although there is methodological debate during scientific revolutions, someone with radically deviant methods, who for example totally disregards observation and experiment in favour of aesthetic considerations, simply ceases to be a scientist. In contrast, disparate intellectual activities, tackling different problems by incompatible methods and with different aims are still called philosophy. There are, for example, philosophers who would maintain that philosophy should strive neither for knowledge nor cogency or argument but for beauty and spiritual inspiration.
– Hans-Johann Glock, What is Analytic Philosophy? (2008), p.7
Long time readers of this blog will no doubt be aware that I’m intrigued by the question, ‘What is Philosophy?’ A brief glance over to the subject list will show that the ‘metaphilosophy’ cloud looms large over its little portion of the sidebar. I think the reason why this question is so interesting to me is that if we are going to delineate philosophy from theology and then have a theory about why the former is of value (a project I am quite interested in), then we ought to have some kind of conception of what philosophy is.
The remark above from Glock is the right first step to take. The question, ‘What is Philosophy?’ is an open one, because philosophy seems to have the unique characteristic of academic disciplines in having surprisingly large and porous borders – there is much more activity which passes for philosophy, then there is which passes for astronomy or medical research. Philosophy, somehow, is able to traverse an enormous ground of subject matter (mind, matter, medicine, morals, meaning, just to mention the ‘m’’s) and deploy extremely different conceptual instruments to get its work done.
Part of the reason for my starting this blog was to attempt to make philosophy interesting, accessible, useful, and non-threatening to people who may not have studied philosophy at university or read many philosophy books. It occurs to me that I have probably been getting sidetracked from this goal. In order to correct this, I’ll be starting a new series of posts called: Philosophy 101. In each post I’ll explain basic philosophical ideas and questions, specifically focusing on foundational and basic concepts, and trying to make them interesting, relevant and useful. Stay tuned!
A central part of philosophy is the reading of books, and the attempt to understand these books. This can be tricky business. Often philosophical books are old, vague, odd, complicated, hung-up on by-gone issues, or not directly speaking to the question you are concerned with. In the work of contemporary philosopher Robert Brandom I have recently come across a handy two-fold method for understanding philosophical books and concepts: Brandom calls this the de dicto/ de remethod. This method is basically two different sets of questions you can ask a text in an effort to understand it. I think this method could be helpful because it distinguishes two different questions which often get entangled with one another, but need not.
De Dicto (Latin: Of the word). We understand what a concept in a particular text means by seeing how it is used by an author, what moves it licenses and what it prescribes, and how it would be understood and deployed in the community at the time. When investigating this dimension of texts/concepts, ask questions like, ‘What did the author think he was illuminating by talking this way?’, ‘What does the author thinks follows from this?’, ‘How was this used in the practices of communities of the time?’ This is essentially a task of trying to understand the book as a whole and within its immediate landscape.
De Re (Latin: Of the thing). We try to understand how an original concept could be used in a later context, such as ours, being concerned with what really does follow from the author’s premises (according to our lights), not what the author took to follow from them. This method focuses on what the concept is about, and what the author must be committed to now, given what we now know or what logical resources we now have. When investigating this dimension of texts/concepts, ask questions like, ‘What do we now know about this concept?’ ‘Is this additional body of knowledge something which detracts from or supports the author’s original intentions?’ This is essentially trying to understand how any ideas could be extracted from the way the author thought she was using them and the way the community whom she wrote for deployed them.
Christians, being people of the book, have the dual concern of textual fidelity and textual relevance – of wanting to understand the Bible thoroughly and accurately, and of wanting to allow it to speak to contemporary people and issues. Could this two-fold method from Brandom be handy in reading and applying Scripture?
My wonderful girlfriend bought me an Iron and Wine CD for my birthday, which finishes with this amazing song. Check it out. I’d love to hear what you think about the lyrics in which the singer seems to be thinking through Christian ideas about heaven and hell. Lots of songs contain references to Christian ideas of eternity and judgment etc., but for some reason I’ve found this song especially thought-provoking.
“Ethics” is not the name of a descriptive science, like “chemistry” or “sociology”. There is no slice of reality in which it specializes. Ethics is the explication of the logic of practical reason that directs our conduct, individual and collective. It terminates not in a descriptive judgment about how the world lies, or a slice of the world, but in a practical judgment on how we shall conduct ourselves.
– Oliver O’Donovan, Church in Crisis: The Gay Controversy and the Anglican Communion (2008), pp. 37-38.
This remark from O’Donovan cuts straight to the heart of a latent fogginess in my own thinking. Is ethics primarily a task of description or of judgment? That is, when we make ethical claims – when we say that ‘hate is wrong’ and ‘generosity is good’ – are we first and foremost recommending a certain course of action, or are we describing the way the world is? As a Christian, I often think it is the later: there are objective moral realities and God has given us insight into them through the gospel of Jesus Christ. So when we make moral claims we are describing the world truthfully as we know it be thanks to God’s revelation, and we are also, indirectly, describing what God is like.
O’Donovan clearly recommends the other option, that ethics ought to be a task of judgment, but for me this raises a host of other questions, not least, is this judgment then independent of any descriptive account we give of the world – a descriptive story which can either include reference to God or not?
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.
A blog devoted to thinking through the relationship between philosophy and Christianity. If you're a Christian who is curious about things philosophical, or a philosophical type who is curious about things Christian you're in the right place. Read. Think. Comment. Enjoy!
Now I can hear you ask - why 'Insane Angels?' See below.
ON PHILOSOPHERS:
"It seems as if heaven had sent its insane angels into our world as to an asylum, and here they will break out into their native music and utter at intervals the words they have heard in heaven; then the mad fit returns and they mope and wallow like dogs."
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1841
