(Ir)religiosity

If you don’t read Religion Dispatches you really should.  A great “progressive” (for lack of a better, more unambiguous term) religion blog that consistently posts good content.  Case in point: yesterday’s post on interfaith dialogue in a — thanks to social media and other forms of new technology — increasingly globalized world.

What if we thought of religion (and even science and philosophy) as a type of language or dialect?

If the “Nones” are a rapidly growing category (as the surveys suggest), then “religion” will need to change in order to remain relevant and viable in the complex world we’re heading into. To begin with, the idea that only one religion is true, while all the others are not, will have to be abandoned. Perhaps one way of hastening this process is to think of religion as being like language. Languages are not true or false. Rather, each different language seeks to express the shared history and life experiences of those people who speak it. In a rapidly globalizing world, people will increasingly need to be fluent in more than one language. [...] Likewise, it will become necessary to speak more than one religious language; not just for the sake of communication, but in service of human spiritual growth and enrichment.

Since my first real and meaningful encounter with the presence of other religious ideas besides evangelical Christianity in “Introduction to World Religions” fall semester of my freshman year in college — the first of many experiences which radically altered my view of interfaith dialogue and religious pluralism — I’ve thought it best to think of religion(s) as a type of language or linguistic structure.  A language or dialect isn’t completely wrong, but it’s not absolutely right either.  It conveys meaning to a particular community, a characteristic that makes it true, but no single language enjoys a monopoly on meaning or truth.  And any claims to complete hegemony are essentially illegitimate and equivalent to, for example, an American demanding that all the world immediately begin using English as a means for global communication.  It just wouldn’t work.  Communication couldn’t happen and some pieces of truth and meaning would die along with the lost languages.

Language, by its very nature, is limiting.  As a native speaker I can’t escape English.  No matter how many languages I learn in my lifetime (it won’t be many, it’s not my strong suit!) I will never be able to liberate myself from thinking in English.  It is my mother tongue.  Likewise as a Christian, I am, in some sense, limited in my religious thinking.  True, Christianity offers its own unique and helpful insights into the penetrating questions of meaning and truth, but like every other religion, it does so at the expense of others.  Understanding the double-nature of that reality — its benefit and its limitation — will go a long way in understanding and making room for other religious tongues in the future.

The bilingual and multilingual person is more of an asset than the one who is not.  Christianity will always be my mother tongue, but understanding and becoming fluent and conversant in the other prominent languages of the religious landscape will be vital and of the utmost importance in the future if we are to have meaningful interfaith dialogue.  Not only that, but becoming comfortable with and using more religious languages instead of merely “knowing about them” and assuming the superiority of one’s own — a modern symptom if there ever was one — will be the hallmark of mutual understanding and respect as religious “emergence” really begins to take root in the future.  To be sure, I don’t think that dilutes my Christianity at all, contrary to the usual accusations of syncretism — in fact I think it enriches it.  Not to mention it helps me become a more well-rounded human being.

We must acknowledge that we live within an inescapable language that is no better or worse than the others — it simply is.  We must become familiar and fluent in other languages so we can become conversant.  And, most of all, we must welcome and become comfortable with the presence, importance, and enriching value of other languages — not merely tolerate their existence.  The first two come fairly easy, it is the last one that is tough.  Yet I think the success and efficacy of future dialogue and evolution depends upon it more than anything.

In my mind, language is the best way to think about this.  It helps me understand it better.  What do you think?  Does it help to think of religion as a language?

I’ve been doing a lot of Moltmann reading in preparation for the Moltmann Conversation in Chicago next month.  Today I read Religion, Revolution, and the Future, an early collection essays and lectures.  I ran across a passage in the last article, “Hope and History,” that is very poignant given John Piper’s latest snafu.

The cosmological proofs for the existence of God, in which the divinity of God and his presence were brought into an analogical relationship to the experience of the world accessible to everyone, have lost their persuasive power, since modern man no longer understands himself as a part of the cosmos, but has placed the world as material of his scientific and technical possibilities over against himself. He no longer lives in the house of ordered being but in the open history of a technical transformation of the world. The old cosmological-theistic world view which spoke of God in relationship to the cosmos of the natural world is antiquated and is experienced as mythical by man who has become the master of his environment. But it is naive pathos of the enlightenment to discard the fundamental question which was to be answered by the old world view. Behind the cosmological-theistic world views lies the real misery of man which expressed itself in the manifold forms of the theodicy question: Si deus, unde malum? (If God exists, whence evil?). The old world view answered this fundamental question in the vision of the orderly and wisely steered cosmos and used the image of the divine cosmos in order to do battle against chaos threatening everywhere. Even though this answer no longer persuades today, since we experience reality as history and no longer as cosmos, the fundamental theodicy question is still with us and is more pressing than before.

The core problem with Piper’s view — aside from the outdated cosmology — is theological determinism.  Such a view makes things very simple to understand:  X happened because God caused it and thought it should happen, there is a moral reason for everything that happens in the cosmos so we shouldn’t worry too much, it will all work out in the end.  It is an easy way to make sense of tragedy but I must effectively excuse myself from wrestling with the moral ambiguities of reality.  Not to mention that must ascribe to a premodern cosmology and assume that God is, at best, amoral.

The point of theology (and philosophy), in my view, is not to offer simple answers — which always posits certainty — but to continually wrestle with the questions and to learn to live with the inherent ambiguities of reality.  Piper, in suggesting that the tornado was a “firm but gentle warning,” not only singles an entire group of people for blame and judgment or supposes a vengeful and angry God beholden to an antiquated cosmology, but also claims to be certain about the nature of reality.  It is an easy answer to a complicated problem and, as I and others have pointed out, it presents disturbing problems of its own.

So, according to Moltmann, Piper’s answer for why the tornado happened is no longer persuasive; however, the core issue is still just as pressing as it ever was.  My question is this: how do we respond?  For those of us who do not ascribe to theological determinism or a premodern cosmology, what is our alternative, our “answer?”  Or, better yet, how do we wrestle with the question?

UPDATE: Drew has published a great post discussing Barth’s answer to this very question.  And at almost the exact same time I published mine!

I ran across this thought by Moby reading something else last night and I can’t get it out of my head.

i actually think that the teachings of christ accomodate most of the new ways in which we perceive ourselves and our world.
the problem is that although the teachings of christ accomodate this, contemporary christianity does not.
here’s more seriousness dressed up as flippancy:
christ: acknowledging quantum realities.
christiantiy: depressingly newtonian.
does that make any sense?
well, to me it does.
and to some of you it might make sense, also.

That’s rich.  And interesting.  What do you think?