“Those who believe that they believe in God, but without passion in their hearts, without anguish in mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, without an element of despair even in their consolation, believe only in the God idea, not God Himself” (Unamuno).
This is a hero of mine, above all for his honesty when dealing with subjects as serious and profound as this one. And he makes me think... perhaps an important part of believing in God is doubting God; perhaps part of being a believer is being an atheist. I certainly would like that, and I think (or want to think) that's what Bonhoeffer discovered in prison. Perhaps part of God's personality consists of hiding himself; and if it is, he is certainly very good at it.
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Interesting idea. How do you cope with the tension of belief and unbelief?
ReplyDeleteA few thoughts:
Bonhoeffer’s “religionless christianity” is definitely a thought provoking concept. Especially because he was never able to elaborate on what he meant prior to his tragic death. His theology is left tantalisingly open – perhaps the reason for its lasting appeal.
In the Letters and Papers from Prison, Bonhoeffer seems to separate himself from the idea of “personal salvation” (I would try find the quote, but the book is in the bottom of a box somewhere). He doesn’t deny the possibility of this, but treats the question as somewhat irrelevant, or something we have passed by. This, I think, offers an insight into his theology.
Even in his later writings, Bonhoeffer’s thought remains ecclesiologically focused. That is to say: a religionless Christianity has less to do with existential questions of belief, but a comment on what the church does, or should do. So I think the theology religionless Christianity is an aspect of his other great theme, a church that “exists for others.”
I don’t think questions of belief-unbelief were irrelevant to Bonhoeffer, but I think one way he got past (or simply dealt with) the tension was to move beyond the question. I don’t think it’s far from the liberation theologians’ instance on the pre-eminence of orthopraxis (maybe one of the reasons we find Bonhoeffer cited so often in liberationist texts).
Thanks for that. I might need to find my copy of Bonhoeffer's book as well.
ReplyDeleteI'm interested in separating myself from such concepts as 'personal salvation', but I'm not sure where this separation might lead. Besides, if I am honest, when I separate myself from many such doctrines (doctrines that, on the other hand, seem to define Christiniaty itself) I can't find many reasons to go to a church where all those doctrines are assumed.
Lastly, I am not sure what it means to move beyond the question of belief-unbelief. Does it not sound as a way to avoid having to decide whether you belief or not?
There is a danger that looking for a “third way” can actually be a way to avoid the question. While I am sympathetic to contemporary strains of post-modern theologising, I sometimes feel that talking about dialectics can be a fancy way of saying nothing (if such philosophising is done lazily). A long way to say, I hope that I’m not seeking easy answers here.
ReplyDeleteWhat I mean by moving beyond the idea of “personal salvation” is not denial that it exists, but to move away from it as a defining characteristic / framing story of Christian faith. An example of this is the current heated debate about the nature of the atonement – to question in this area is to deconstruct what many view as the lynchpin of faith. I am not certain, however, that the notion of personal salvation (in isolation) defines pre-modern Christianity or forms of non-Western Christianity. For example, the spirituality found in the likes of G. Gutierrez’s “We Drink from Our Own Wells” has primarily to do with praxis, community, and worship. This does not mean that personal belief is rendered irrelevant (to worship, some degree of belief is necessary) – but the Christianity presented is not defined in the binary terms of “being saved / unsaved”. I’m aware that one can move to far in this direction: modern evangelicalism was a reaction to a system of belief that neglected the self-aware individual.
An idea the gospels present us with is that the activity of justice and the love of God cannot be separated (e.g. Lk. 11:42). Engaging in hopeful praxis can assist belief, and vice versa. My problem the modern idea of “personal belief” is that it places too much emphasis on what I simply think. My thoughts are not belief, but one aspect of a holistic activity of faith.
Sorry, I feel that I’m getting tangled up in my language here. To finally attempt an answer your question, “to move beyond the question of belief-unbelief” is hopefully not avoiding a decision, but moving away from the equation of belief as a presupposition.
In a similar vein, I’ve found A. Perriman’s work in this area quite helpful (though I’m still getting my head around a lot of it). A few links below:
http://www.opensourcetheology.net/node/925
http://www.opensourcetheology.net/node/1487
I must confess that, although I have indeed been very sympathetic to post-modern ways of thinking about theology in the past, I am personally finding them increasingly disappointing. I read some time ago a book called, ‘What is Truth?’ by Peter Vardy, and I found it quite enlightening in the way he dealt with the apparent conflict between modern and post-modern ways of thinking. According to Vardy, there is a way to defend a belief in truth (believe that there is Truth) without falling into the modern way of thinking (blinded by my own presuppositions): just be aware that ‘your truth’ might be wrong, give your own reasons for believing it and listen to alternative ways of thinking that may challenge your view of the world. Rather than finding a ‘third way’, which sometimes sounds to me a little bit too Hegelian (both/and), try to be honest enough to openly articulate where you are, without having to necessarily imply that you will always be there. Perhaps I am wrong, but a lot of post-modern thinking sounds to me very much like trying to avoid that articulation. I think that Unamuno (the man of the quote) wanted ‘belief’ to be something pointing to reality, to existence, to flesh and blood, and I think he found the Hegelian middle-way very disappointing. That’s why I think that doubting God and even confessing our unbelief are important parts of a faith based on reality, a faith that doesn’t try to fit any idea into an abstract concept of God into which anything seems to fit.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I tend to think that ‘personal belief’ has always been an important factor in this whole Christian way of thinking. Perhaps it’s true that our individualistic world has over-emphasized faith over the praxis side of faith, but I think that both ‘faith’ and ‘praxis’ are, to some extent, two sides of the same coin (I think you meant that as well, didn’t you?): my ideas usually are reflected in the way I act, in the same way that my actions might help me learn from experience and change my ideas. However I am not so sure that this is such a modern problem: I remember when I learned about the controversy between Paul’s and James’ interpretation of what was really important in Jesus’ message, and can still find that debate between faith and works a fundamental one even then. Perhaps we have always had with us the tension between belief(s) and praxis (it was James who said that ‘the demons also believe’, which makes me think he is pointing at a similar problem). Being this so, I still think that the need to decide between ‘belief-unbelief’ stands and we shouldn’t escape into the ‘praxis side’ in order to avoid it. Perhaps, to make it easier, we should consider this question on its own without mixing it with the ‘saved-unsaved’ one, which is I think a rather different one (in fact I think the ‘saved-unsaved’ question adds more problems to the issue, bringing God’s own opinion about our beliefs into play).
Wow, lots to think about here. Just waiting on the tea to brew, before I have to get back to some work (work?!) so this will be a bit rushed.
ReplyDeleteYou said: “but I think that both ‘faith’ and ‘praxis’ are, to some extent, two sides of the same coin (I think you meant that as well, didn’t you?)”
Yeah, I did mean that.
As for the debate between Paul and James re: faith and works... after reading E.P. Sanders, I always took these “works” as referring those external religious markers that the Judaizers had set up as preconditions for involvement in the people of God (I know this point is subject of some debate, but I think the scholarly flow is still moving this direction?). This is not without current parallels, but it remains a specific 1st C debate that had to do with entrance into a community, as opposed to the questions raised by modern individualism. While we still need to choose between belief and unbelief, I’m not so sure how applicable the works debates of the 1st C are directly applicable to this question.
Sort of related, an interesting interview with Sanders: http://www.philosophyandscripture.org/Issue2-2/Sanders/Sanders.html
And sorry about bringing the saved / unsaved thing in... slip of the tongue (keyboard?). I realised that I opened another can of worms after I re-read the posted post!
Tea is ready, got to go!
Hi again,
ReplyDeleteRe: my post above...
One can get involved in praxis in a way that neglects or ignores the cognitive elements of belief. This could be a form of escape, or it could point to a false dichotomy. If faith and praxis are part of the same side of the coin, I see no hierarchy between the two; I can set a coin down on the cashier’s counter with the heads or tails side up, but the coin is still worth the same amount.
I want to shift away from the understanding of belief as (correct?) thoughts alone. In praxis there can be experience of the divine. I also think of many ancient spiritual disciplines – that in pushing into mystery there is an experience of the divine. These things are difficult to articulate in argument, but they remain an aspect of belief. This is not say that we can ignore pressing intellectual questions, but admitting that belief is about more than finding qualifiable answers. It is not unlike trying to describe love – we can explain why we love somebody, but that love cannot be reduced to a cognitive argument.
This is where I find post-modern thought quite helpful. It seems to be the recognition that “pointing reality, to existence, to flesh and blood” is sometimes beyond articulation or argument (thus the post-modern stress importance of narrative). The truth of loving somebody is not arguing that I love them, but in the act of love.
Hello again!
ReplyDeleteFirst, Paul and James: yes, you are right in pointing out about Sanders, or even better, Stendahl. They changed the paradigm of emphasizing the introspective conscience of the West over the real problems that a Jew would have had in the first century. However, as some scholars have also pointed out, we shouldn’t go now to the other extreme and forget that ‘works’, even ‘works of the (Jewish) Law’, have a meaning to which we can easily find parallels today (some people would treat going to church or reading the Bible every day as the ‘new works of the Law’). So I don’t think that we can brush away the real tension between faith and works by using Sanders and Cia. The problem is still with us, although not in the same external forms. I think that Paul’s words when he says: “So we, too, have put our faith in Christ Jesus that we may be justified by faith in Christ and not by observing the law, because by observing the law no one will be justified” (Galatians 2:16), apply quite interestingly and radically to our days.
Your second message, however, brings us closer to the heart of the matter, I think. I sense (although you can correct me if I am wrong) that your intention is to integrate ‘faith’ and ‘works’ (or praxis) as parallel (not alternative) paths to God’s knowledge. In this sense, ‘faith’ would be a disposition towards God (whatever or whoever God is), rather than a set of affirmations to which we must assent. And again in this sense that disposition of faith can be translated, through praxis (or experience), into some kind of knowledge about God (which is usually expressed in negative terms; i.e. God is not this nor that…).
I think I sympathize very much with this understanding of ‘faith’. However I am not sure what would be the interplay between that kind of faith/praxis/experience with the other side of Christianity, the creed-side, the fact that you usually have to show your agreement and defence of some affirmations which most Christians consider normative for the Christian faith (if you want to call yourself a Christian, that is). I find it hard to understand how my experimental knowledge of God may lead me to accept, for example, that Jesus was born of a virgin. It seems to me that there is some kind of unbridgeable gap between those two quite different understandings of faith. Should we just try to divide the brain into the questioning side (which tries to walk beyond itself towards the mystery of God) and the unquestioning side (which accepts some affirmations just because they are part of the tradition we happen to have grown up)? I agree with you: I can see the usefulness of post-modern thought in helping us rediscover the truth that reason is not the only path to knowledge. However, I can’t see how it helps us to answer the questions I just asked.
Hi
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comment re: Sanders and Stendahl. You said: “some people would treat going to church or reading the Bible every day as the ‘new works of the Law’”. Very true. I don’t think that we can brush away the tension between faith and works via reference to Sanders. Mainly, I wanted to bring attention that the biblical debate is more multi-faceted than poplar individualised interpretations of this debate. Again, I don’t want to downplay individual concerns, but I have the feeling that context of a challenge to the community is important here (the reason I like you put “going to church” in as one of your examples).
As for normative Christian faith and the creed-side, that is very difficult. However, I am not without hope that churches can move beyond stifling creedalism. I know this is not the most scholarly resource, but Rob Bell has a helpful metaphor about the trampoline. Here is a gross oversimplification: all the springs (i.e. doctrines) are not necessary if we are to continue jumping on the trampoline (quite contentious for many people is that he makes direct reference to the virgin birth here). When I first heard this, I thought this was yet another attempt to avoid difficult questions by playing the post-modern trump card (and maybe it is for some people). Yet when I looked at the church he is a part of, the ecclesiological flesh-and-blood, I was rather impressed (cf. www.marshill.org). The sermons that I’ve heard are more biblically and theologically aware than most I’ve heard in my time attending evangelical churches. This is not to say that I think this is a perfect example of church (e.g. I’m slightly uncomfortable with BIG American churches the hint of consumerism that size seems to bring with it), I think it remains a creative attempt to be a distinctly Christian community while moving away from homogenising creedalism as a defining characteristic.
Looking at some of the venomous and slanderous comments that R. Bell and his church receive in online discussions, my hopefulness of the possibility of moving forward is tempered by the knowledge that this can be grossly misunderstood and feared.
Perhaps you are right in suggesting that we should just try to “divide the brain.” I don’t think the gap is unbridgeable (I think NT Wright or J. Dunn wrote an article about that, but I can’t find it at the moment). Maybe this act of division is what I’ve been doing for a while -- and I’ve grown accustomed with the struggle that it brings. Yes, a thorn in the flesh, but one I’ve learned to live with (maybe my thorn has its benefits?). While I would look for a place that I can be intellectually honest, I found that this has slipped in my priorities – I once found a community of intellectual openness, but it felt devoid of love (especially in practical forms), diversity (surprising that, but the lack of creed became a creed), and open community. In that context, the intellectual openness felt shallow (I can be open with my questions, but I was left asking, “what’s the point?”). So I’ve started to look for definition beyond the written “statements of faith” but how word is made flesh.
I know that doesn’t resolve much and I’ve moved into the realm of personal experience, which is a difficult thing to argue. Reading your blog is probably one of the ways I satisfy that desire to engage in open theological discussion...
That’s an interesting web page (Rob Bell one) – I am downloading a sermon and will tell you what impressions I get from it.
ReplyDeleteYou are certainly right in saying that the debate is multi-faceted. And it is probably true that my own context brings a very personal tone (sometimes quite bitter) to the debate, a tone which is perhaps too personal to identify with Paul’s or James’. However, as you point out at the end of your message, even if it doesn’t resolve much, maybe the realm of personal experience is the right place to be when discussing complex subjects such as this one. And if this is so, then we must consider the personal experience of some Christian people (my own included) who find it very hard to belong into a faith community where faith means a lot more than just positive personal disposition towards God which leads to personal experience of God. Although I would like not to lose hope that other kind of communities might exist, the fact that I haven’t found any makes me doubt.
I understand why some people (I take it you would be in this group) would prefer to learn to live with the thorn you have mentioned – I have no doubts that it might bring benefits to your life. In fact, I have probably done that at some moments in my life (certainly did something like that when I was a pastor), but I am finding it increasingly more difficult to do. I would even say that dividing my mind in that way, at the moment, would be counter-productive for my faith. I suppose, if I had to choose a middle ground, I would be happy enough to find a church which holds some beliefs as important but still allows for other people within the group who might not accept them or even challenge them openly (in a civilized way) without considering them ‘less Christian’. And yet, as I am writing this, I feel uneasy even with that idea, which makes me think that maybe I am not ready yet to start looking for any church (will I ever be?).