(Ir)religiosity

I’m taking an online class this semester called “The Way of Emergent Church and Ministry,” taught by the one and only Tony Jones.  This week we read John Caputo’s book/essay Philosophy and Theology.  It’s a great, short, and thought provoking read.  I imagine I’ll be rereading it and using it for reference often.  In less than 100 pages, Captuo provides a concise history of continental philosophy whilst suggesting the theology and philosophy need not be completely divorced as modernity has insisted.  On page 14 Caputo writes:

“Religion needs theology and theologians need philosophy if they are going to anything more than tell us that God told them so when pressed about their faith.”

Several pages prior he states the same thing in a different way:

“If we think of philosophical thinking and thoelogical thinking as two different acts or modes of thinking, as two different dimensions of a whole human life, then we can imagine the two acts cohabiting happily in the same head, yielding a person who would be a thinking believer, or a believing thinker, a person of learning and faith.”

The overall thrust of Caputo’s thesis is that orientation and turn toward the postmodern is opening up many new — or not so new if you look back prior to the Enlightenment, which he does – possibilities for the playful interaction between philosophy and theology.  The two are usually pitted against one another, a mistake Caputo credits to the overall modernization and fragmentation of disciplines.  But for him, the two overlap more than not.

What do you think of this idea?  How are philsophy and theology related?  And, for you, which one comes first?  That is, to which act or mode is your thinking fundamentally rooted?

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The Germans versus the Greeks.  Brilliant!

Peter Rollins has an excellent post on why/how he denies the resurrection that has been bouncing around the blogosphere over the last week or so.  If you haven’t read it you should, he has some good food for thought.  Ultimately, insisting on rigid assent to the factuality and historicity of the resurrection misses the point.  Indeed, one could assent to such propositions and still unashamedly deny the very existence and power of the  resurrection. The point is not so much what may or may not have happened in the past, but what is happening now in the continued present and on into the im/possible future.

This strikes to the very root of belief.  Todd Littleton offers a great comment:

We cannot say what we believe. We only do what we believe.

Jonathan Brink has two excellent posts that address this very thing.  Our true, and often hidden belief, it seems to me at least, lies not in our creedal propositions or our elaborate systematic theologies (though those are not without some merit) but in our naked encounters with the other and our willingness to allow oursleves to be transformed by such a meeting.  It is in that moment and through that event that our true belief, birthed through vulnerability and empathy and with complete disregard for dignified formulation, is laid bare for all to see.

We simply cannot rightly speak of what we truly believe.  It evades the very extremities of our language and discourse.  For true, transformative belief — and in theology I cannot think of any legitimate belief except that which truly transforms — can only be made known within the realm of relationship and the sphere of praxis.

Most people usually have strong opinions has to the nature of God, specifically whether God is personal or impersonal, transcendent or immanent.  I wonder if this is really just another false dichotomy that we have constructed for ourselves to put us at odds with one another.

What if it’s not either/or?

What if there is some truth to both positions and by recognizing that we come even closer to wrapping our heads around God?

It seems to me that that is the case because God is beyond our conception, beyond our images, and beyond our language.  All of these can only begin to point to God.

I wonder what happens when we insist that others adopt the same names and images for God that we do?

Recently I was commenting on a blog post about inclusive language and the use of personal pronouns and gender references for God.  As I read and commented I was struck about something.  By insisting that God is completely personal and that others must refer to God in the same way that we do (same pronoun, gender, etc.) are we not essentially de-personalizing God for someone who may have a different connection than we do?

Here’s another way of putting it.  In our overly zealous contention that God must personal for all in the way that S/He is personal to us, are we not making God impersonal for others? Does the act of personalization reverse itself here?

I think it may.  What do you think?

I really wish I had more time to do substantive blogging these days (like finishing my thoughts on The New Conspirators!), but I’m swamped on the home front with reading and writing for school. Hopefully I’ll have more to offer soon. In the meantime, I’ve been watching stuff like this: a talk given earlier this month by Slavoj Žižek on ideology, power and civility. Watch it if you have the time — it will blow your mind…or something.

We’re beginning to see more and more signs that the old traditional form of evangelicalism is slowly dying and with its death we are witnessing the emergence of something new.  According to the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, 70% of evangelical Christians agree  that “many religions can lead to eternal life” and 57%  believe theirs is not the only path to salvation. This is good news. [Ht. Ben]