(** Scroll to the bottom for an index of all the progressive Christians I've blogged about **)
When I was seeking instead of avoiding
a spiritual community 20 years ago I believed there was some value to
scripture and to calling for some other worldly powers. I read
Michael Lerner’s The Politics of Meaning, a book by a rabbi that
applied some very traditional values from Judaism to modern problems
in a very politically liberal fashion. I still like that book, but it
was the high point of my searching. Every other modern scriptural
interpretation has been a dead end that looked a lot like
fundamentalism.
John Shelby Spong,
Dominic Crossan,
C.S. Lewis,
Alvin Plantiga,
Tony Jones,
Nadia Bolz Weber,
Jonathan Sacks,
Phyllis Tickle and pastors at churches that I attended, all
have failed rather spectacularly. They may
do great things,
but their reasons make no sense. Their connection from what they say
are decent values to the precepts of Christianity are tangential at
best. I’ve never really stopped looking, and I occasionally find
someone making a bold statement about non-belief in miracles or the
possible non-existence of Moses or that writings of Paul were forged,
but never a coherent, positive use of scripture and the stories of
the Bible that inspires anything that couldn’t be arrived at easier
and better using rational, natural means.
There are some former pastors, like
Dan Barker, who can describe how they built community and counseled
people in need, but they are former pastors because they got tired of
making excuses for parts of the Bible they knew were not true, or
worse, promoted bad behavior. Ryan Bell is a recent addition to that
list. After being fired from his ministry work for “theological
differences”, he took a year to decide if belief in God was right
for him. It wasn’t. He recently tried to explain where he is at
today by using the term “human flourishing”.
I’ll give Volf some credit for
pointing to some flaws in Christianity and religion in general, but
those credits have no value when he solves the problems by telling us
we must believe in Jesus. This is typical of liberal Christian
teachings and sermons. They start out with an analysis of the
outdated system and how it doesn’t work for us anymore. We know
that, that’s why we’re listening to the new guy. Then it says
something about modern philosophy or The Enlightenment and how it
reacted to the old system, and makes the case that it failed too.
At this point a transitional theologian
like Spinoza or Maimonides might be brought in to sharpen the
comparison to Hume or Freud. And the magic moment, back to a common
quote from Jesus or some wisdom from the 4th century. Volf
wraps up his essay by telling us we must relate God to current
ethical issues, make him plausible by showing he is good for us, and
we must believe God is fundamental to human flourishing. I’ll go
into more of the detail, but once you’ve heard that, do you need to
know any more? He’s shown the problems with belief in God, then
offered the solution of really, really believing in God.
He starts out talking about hope. He
says hope is expecting something good that doesn’t come along every
day. For Christians, hope comes from “outside”, not just an
extrapolation of what could be based on what we have seen. It is the
gift of God’s love. Then he asks, how this is related to human
flourishing.
To answer that, he needs to look at the
contemporary Western view of human flourishing. He says this is
mostly about satisfaction. In the West, this is more strongly
pronounced as “feeling happy” in the moment rather than a more
stoic sense of having done well in the long run. Volf contrasts this
with Augustine who said “human beings flourish and are truly happy
when they center their lives on God, the source of everything that is
true, good and beautiful.” Augustine says it’s okay to want
things, but only if you want “nothing wrongly”. That is, want it
in accordance with the Creator.
Well, okay, that was 360 AD or so.
That’s how they talked then. Let’s see what happens when he
starts applying this to modern times.
Skipping quickly over 1,500 years of
history, Volf talks of the “anthropocentric shift” from God to
humanism that doesn’t reference higher powers. The moral
obligations were retained. Tribalism was transcended, at least in
theory. And skipping to the 20th century Volf finds
flourishing defined increasingly in terms of the self. He sums up
this movement from love of God and neighbor to universal beneficence
to experiential satisfaction paralleling it to the diminishing of
hope, saying, if hope is love stretching itself into the future of
the beloved object, when love shrinks to self-interest, and
self-interest devolves into the experience of satisfaction, hope
disappears as well.
That’s kinda beautiful. I can get
that, because I have some sense of what hope and love are. He’s
right, if we center our love only on ourselves, where is our hope? We
can hope for a better car, but that’s not very satisfying.
Volf quotes
Andrew Delbanco when he
talks of what happens when we decouple pleasure from the love of God
or hope for a common future. In Delbanco’s words, we are left “with
no way of organizing desire into a structure of meaning.” We are
“meaning-making animals” says Volf, so this must leave us
unsatisfied.
We are only at the beginning of p. 10
of a 24 page essay, and he’s already lost me. I followed the
historical movement from God to self, but he never offers anything
about meaning coming from anything except God. He left a glimmer of
that in the 18th century with a sense of community, but
it’s gone as far as he is concerned by the 1960’s. Can he build a
way out of this abyss? Let’s see.
He states this with no debate, “The
most robust alternative visions of human flourishing are embodied in
the great faith traditions.” Although in a moment of honesty, or
maybe comic relief, he says, “True, you cannot always tell that
from the way faiths are practiced. When surveying their history, it
seems on occasion as if their goal were simply to dispatch people out
of this world and into the next.” But he sees no alternative, he
must look to thinkers from those great faith traditions.
He quotes
Al-Ghazali and
Maimonides,
two major players, one from Islam, one from Judaism. He talks of how
these traditions taught that we must know where we fit in with the
ultimate reality. I don’t argue with that as a pursuit, even though
many people get by perfectly well without even understanding what the
equinox is or where babies come from. For these great religious
thinkers, there is no escaping God. When quoting Maimonides, to have
knowledge, is to know God, perfection consists “in the acquisition
of the rational virtues—I refer to the conception of intelligibles,
which teach true opinions concerning divine things.” So, knowledge
leads to God.
Volf gives a little ground to
non-theological intellectuals of the past, but immediately laments
that an education formerly included a pursuit of life’s meaning. I
think Volf misses that education today is specialized and we can’t
acquire the breadth of knowledge that people used to have because
there is so much more knowledge to be known. Where it was once normal
to understand all that was known about literature, the cosmos and
math, by sheer volume, that is no longer possible.
Also, this idea, that we can find our
place in the universe by understanding it is an idea that didn’t
die because we became more concerned with personal satisfaction, it
died because we found out the universe is 13.7 billion years old and
much larger than anyone could have imagined. What Volf fails to
mention is that we also found out that the particles that were cooked
in the first generation of stars are now part of us. We never found
the connection he is looking for, but he ignores the one we did find.
The problem is not that science ruined
the quest for a connection to the universe by finding we are just a
little planet on the edge of just one of many galaxies, the problem
was always with the looking for that connection out there. That
connection is right here in the faces of people we care about. I make
that connection, as Frank Schaeffer puts it, by getting my wife a cup
of tea and then going on to the next mundane, simple act of kindness.
Volf only mentions Darwin in terms of
the negative influence of the “survival of the fittest”. But
Darwin wrote extensively of cooperation in Origin of the Species. In
Darwin we find an explanation for how we climbed down from the trees
and worked together so intelligence and skill could survive against
larger and stronger predators. Through Darwin, we found we could look to nature to
learn where we came from. Nature wasn’t a frightening and brutish
place that we were separated from after all, it was where we
belonged. It wasn’t given to us by God, we evolved with it and we
are here now because our ancestors had the traits that matched their
ever evolving environment. One of those traits was hope for the
future. Volf is right, hope is love extended beyond the horizon. Each
of us was loved by many people long before we were born. If you care
enough to leave this planet in better shape than you found it, then
you are part of that chain.
Volf doesn’t mention anything like
that. He does give a nod to secular versions of philosophers trying
to find a fit for humans within the larger reality we find ourselves.
He does this to compare these secular visions to the religious
tradition of seeking where we fit in reality. He doesn’t use the
word “utilitarian”, but he alludes to the more utilitarian forms
of morality that were discussed in the years of the enlightenment,
and I have no problem pointing out the problems with that. You can’t
simply add up the happiness in a society to decide what is right. If
you do that, you miss Martin Luther King Jr’s words that if there
is injustice anywhere it is a threat to justice everywhere. But
unlike Volf, I don’t have to justify the words of 17th
century philosophers like John Locke or anyone from an earlier
century. I can evaluate their words and provide reasons for
discarding them or building upon them based on everything known
today.
Volf instead covers
Seneca’s “Cosmic
Reason” and
Nietzsche’s “higher humans”. Then he returns to
his theme about the modern sense of how we fit into culture, saying,
“Satisfaction is a form of experience, and experiences are
generally deemed to be matters of individual preference.” I don’t
think that’s true for everyone but here Volf goes somewhere I
didn’t expect. He applies this to his fellow believers.
Even religious people can use their
religious experience for personal satisfaction! Not surprising to me,
but surprising to hear it from a theologian. By doing this, he says,
they transform the “Creator and Master of the Universe” to
“Divine Butler” and “Cosmic Therapist”. Volf now brings in
the much more liberal Terry Eagleton, who blames this malfunction of
religion on the “post-Nietzschean spirit” of the culture. Neither
of them ever consider that the religious narrative has failed and can
never again provide the type of transcendent experience it once did
to those who had no idea what was above the clouds. He just keeps
blaming some general decline of culture, and post-modern relativism
caused by all these philosophers.
But again, he makes a statement that I
completely agree with, “It is a mistake—a major mistake—not to
worry about how well our notion of flourishing fits the nature of
reality. If we live against the grain of reality, we cannot
experience lasting satisfaction, let alone be able to live fulfilled
lives.” This is in perfect agreement with The Amazing James Randi,
who says, “wouldn’t you rather live in the real world?” Then
Volf immediately returns to looking to religion for the solution, to
find this “grain of reality”. It seems to never to occur to him
that we now know how what we buy in the grocery store affects the
farmer in Ethiopia. We know so much more about this “grain of
reality” than any time in history. What is sad is he has the
resources to meet a farmer from Ethiopia who sees these connections
much clearer than I.
This is classic liberal sermon stuff
right here. First, talk about the religion of your grandparents and
say that’s not the right way. Then throw in some philosophers and
show how they failed. Then bring in modern
theologian/philosophers and start working your way back to a new way.
At this point, I used to be on the edge of my seat, thinking all my
time wasted singing hymns and washing dishes for the fundraisers was
about to pay off. But as we’ll see, in the end, you walk off
wondering if you’ve missed something. At least I did. I was a slow
learner. Eventually I figured out there’s nothing there to be
missed. What I was missing was the poetry of the cosmos and the
beauty of the cycles of nature. And more important that there was a
system for discovering the truth about that nature, things that my
ministers weren’t integrating into our spiritual education.
Next Volf again tells us something we
shouldn’t do, another malfunction of religion. We shouldn’t
start with our preferred account of human flourishing and then
construct an image of God to go with it, as if we are measuring
ourselves for a pair of slacks. Volf knows that this is what
Nietzsche says Christianity already did. He disagrees with Nietzsche
who said they started out with perverse values and built a structure
that supported them, but he agrees that even if you begin with
decent, healthy values, it is still the wrong approach to God. He
says “[this] divests faith of its own integrity and makes it simply
an instrument of our own interests and purposes.”
Of course it does. That’s what people
see churches doing and that’s why they are leaving. These are words
Richard Dawkins could have said.
This is the point in any modern liberal
theology that completely baffles me. He has so thoroughly and
eloquently analyzed two major problems with religion. And he’s done
it with minimal shaming of anyone in the present. He’s shown how we
got here and how the invention of these traditions was a natural
process driven by historical dynamics. But his very next sentence, on
page 20, is the one where my heart sank. He says, “Let’s return
once more to Augustine”. Let’s roll back 1,700 years of progress.
Fine.
To Augustine, God is not impersonal, it
is loving. And to be human is to chose to love. To live well we love
both God and neighbor, aligning ourselves with God. That’s how we
flourish. He applies these ideas back to the earlier mentioned
philosophies and shows how they just can’t work without God. That
“tranquil self-sufficiency” of the Stoics or Nietzsche “noble
morality” just won’t cut it. He even throws in Augustine’s
comment on Epicurus, instead of “Let us eat and drink”, it should
be “Let us give and pray.”
I should at this point offer some
alternative. The language of morality and flourishing is difficult,
and it’s unfair and too easy to simply bash the weaknesses of
theology. I’ll give Volf and Jesus some credit for including “the
least of these” in their philosophy. Most moral theories don’t
talk much about the value of charity and the long term satisfaction
of a life of sacrifice. If Christians actually embodied those notions
and spent more time doing them rather than conquering land in the
name of Christ or torturing those who wouldn’t profess his name,
maybe the whole endeavor would have worked out for them.
And I know Christians hate it when we
mention the worst aspects as if they are the norm. But when were they
at their best? From the 5th to the 14th century
they ruled Europe. What advances in democracy happened in those
years? Science advanced for a while not in Christian Central Europe
but in Baghdad and Muslim Spain because a few Caliphates listened to
the few lines in the Koran that talked about acquiring knowledge.
What great Christian literature came out of that time? When Erasmus
wrote what are considered the earliest humanist writings, he wasn’t
praised, he was suppressed. When Jan Hus tried to take it further, he
was burned at the stake. When Galileo tried to teach what he
observed, he was given a tour of the dungeon in the Vatican. So, why
was there a dungeon in the Vatican? Sorry, it’s hard to get any
distance from those worst aspects.
And how did we come out of those dark
ages? We created nations that had religious freedoms instead of Kingdoms anointed by Popes. We created constitutions with words that
can be directly traced to enlightenment philosophers and just barely
mention a deist type of creator. We abolished slavery, which is too
much to cover here, but there were and still are religious arguments
for both sides of that issue. We created systems where you have a
right to say that you have a special friend who is telling you
something is true, but I have the right to say I think something else
is true.
Those are the alternatives I have to
offer. Words like “right” and “love” are the highest words we
have. Poets have tried to help us express these words forever. You
kinda just have to get them when you're young, not just understand
them but let them become part of you. If you don’t, you just don’t
quite fit. We have enough trouble trying to figure out what is right
for a few dozen people in a room, figuring out a caring system for 7
billion is going to involve some arguments. So the question is not
“what is the answer”, the question is “how do we deal with the
questions”?
Volf instead, returns to the prophetic
tradition, the fundamental movement of ascent to God to receive a
message and the return to the world to bring the message to this
mundane reality. He offers 3 aspects: 1, We must relate God to
current ethical issues. 2, Make God plausible, by showing he is good
for us. And 3, Believe God is fundamental to flourishing. And he puts
that in italics, you have to “really mean” that God is our
hope. That’s it.
This closing message, after all the
history and philosophy and admitting the failures, is the same
message of Jerry Falwell, Rick Warren, Torquemada, and Oprah Winfrey.
It’s your worst High School coach. I know part of any difficult
task is to have faith but at some point you have to say, coach, maybe
we need a strategy, maybe we should have practiced more instead of
listening to that Knute Rockne speech over and over. But if you say
that, you become the problem, you’ve shown your lack of faith, so
you are now the cause. So you just play along.
Even his first two suggestions seem so
transparent, they are about the outward appearance, not the
underlying structure that makes a system work. He says to apply this
belief in God to current issues. But the Bible is not even a good
source for ending slavery, let alone determining what we should do
about anthropogenic climate change. I can easily use the Bible to
make a case FOR laws against homosexuality. I wouldn’t do that by
the way, I’m just saying it’s easy. Making the case for something
like living with our Islamic neighbors, that’s not so easy.
When discussing the idea of making it
plausible that the love of God is key to human flourishing, Volf
shows a strong awareness of non-believer arguments. We non-believers
have “railed against God’s nature”, which means “against
theistic accounts of how humans ought to live”. He notes that we
don’t believe God is good for us. He could be talking about a
strident atheist, or someone just complaining about Sunday’s
sermon. He notes that this idea that God is good is contested, but
says it’s because Christians haven’t done a good enough job of
showing God’s goodness. But isn’t that what every organization or
philosophy tries to do? To produce results? That’s how you grow an
idea, if it appears to be working, people will notice, then some will
look into how you’re doing it and you build the next generation of
leaders.
What Volf doesn’t address is the 99%
of people in human history who were told God made them serfs and
servants and soldiers and that’s just the way it is. That’s not a
system that can survive outside pressure. It’s not a system that
can progress. Of course people have contested these ideas. Through
most of history they just had no power to do anything about it. Now
that we have that power (and mean everyone, believers and
non-believers), people like Volf are struggling to find other ways to
get it back.
Volf never suggests that modern systems
of listening to voices that traditionally were marginalized have
anything to do with how the world is today. He never says that
teaching more people math, reading, biology, history and ALL the
philosophies has made the world more complicated but also has made it
better. He never admits that we just don’t know how best to love
our neighbor. We, like Christians since the earliest days, are still
arguing about who exactly is our neighbor. He believes this
one idea that has been tried a thousand times will finally work, if
we just believe. He never considers we might be better off letting
thousands of ideas be heard in the hopes that we find more ideas that
have merit.
Other liberal theologians (or theologian types) I have written about:
Frank Schaeffer
Brian McClaren
Thich Nhat Hahn
John Shelby Spong
Terry Eagleton
The Shack (a book)
Nadia Bolz Weber
Mere Christianity
Greg BoydKaren Armstrong
Joseph Campbell