Christian Tradition, part 3

This is the third and final post in the series on Christian tradition.

In my first post on this topic, I said that Christianity includes a number of aspects that cannot be reduced to any single one of them (Stories, Teachings, Calendars, Practices, Structures). In my second post I said that the word tradition (from Latin, 'handed over') carries a double meaning: on the one hand, the aspects of Christianity have been handed over to us so we can shape them (and this is legitimate); on the other hand, we have been handed over to these aspects so they can shape us (and this is also legitimate).

In this final post on the topic, I will try and show how many internal debates in the church take place within the 'framework' sketched out in part 1 and 2 together. The point I want to make is that many conflicts we typically tend to think of in terms of the 'old' versus the 'new', really are not about this at all. In fact, they are fundamentally about the question of the legitimacy of human contribution to any set 'order' of things. In other words, what can humans legitimately take part in shaping, and in what areas are human contributions merely violent intrusions and deviations on something 'pure'?

So for example, some would say that the annual season of Lent is not really essential to Christianity as such, because it is a ‘merely human’ invention, and not a God-given decree traceable to the texts in the New Testament. These texts, however, they would treat as absolutely unalterable - to such a degree that their authority is seen to lie in the correct translation of the 'original' language. They firmly believe that a stable point around which everything can be constantly organized lies in eternal principles that can somehow be 'revealed' through approaching the surface text in particular ways (whether by 'personal revelation' or 'historical criticism').

But others might take Lent as a God-instituted period of fasting that does constitute an essential part of Christianity, and with which they cannot imagine humans could interfere without deviating from God’s set order of things. On the other hand, the scriptures are simply part of this structural and calendrical order, and not constitutive of it. They are human writings about the divine, and so, for example, humans (certain humans legitimated by the structural order) may legitimately re-order the scriptural canon - an unthinkable action on the first view.

Now, these two examples are of course caricatures (one would hope). But the point here is that the debates over what can be changed and not is not really a question of some being more attached to the past than others. We all value some past, and we are all pretty selective of the pasts we value. Rather, the reason for our disputes, if we take the ‘double’ view of tradition I have described in part 1 and 2, is that we all tend to fetishize certain aspects of Christianity, and at the same time devalue other aspects. Some fetishize the structural aspects of Christianity, such as those in the second example. Others fetishize the aspect of teachings and principles, as those in the first example.

On one level, this is of course a matter of us always being tempted to protect our own interests and our own feeling of safety, often being far too willing to behave in very destructive ways in order to preserve ourselves and what we like (on that note, what would happen if we began considering our personal taste as something changeable...?). But on a another level, I think this is a case of what I described in part 2 - the question of whether human action is creational and constitutive or a violent and alien intrusion upon Reality. It is for example not the 'oldness' of the New Testament that is supposed to guarantee its 'authenticity', but rather the absence of human contribution. It is not the 'oldness' of the hierarchical structure of the church that guarantees its supposed legitimacy, but the imagined fact that this structure is somehow untouched by human hands. Anything else we allow to be molded and changed, because we consider it 'merely human'. The same is true of views of the scriptures as the 'final authority' - the reason we invoke them as the most 'authentic, is because the farther removed from 'merely human' intervention, the 'purer' they are. And so we imply that if something bears the mark of human contribution, it is second-rate, stained, impure. Thus we actually fail to appreciate the very human contribution that the God described throughout all aspects of Christianity enjoys. We all have our favourite aspects of Christianity, and we all have some sense that certain aspects are human contributions, while other aspects are part of an unalterable order of things unstained by human contribution.

Here I want to point out an interesting paradox: In many (modern evangelical?) contexts, the word 'tradition' is most often seen as referring to the 'old'. However, it doesn't refer to an unchangeable order of things. On the contrary, for modern evangelicals, the word 'tradition' refers to precisely that which is constructed by humans, and so can (and perhaps should) be changed on a regular basis. It has no fundamental legitimacy; it isn't "really real".

(On a second note, this problem is of course not limited to Christian contexts - as argued in part 2, the tension between human creation and a 'given; order seems to be a universal predicament. Perhaps this is only more articulated in contexts and communities where such a final legitimizing order is articulated more consciously - though not necessarily more successfully)

Now, the problem is, that when Christians argue over what is essential to Christianity, they often end up arguing over what can be changed (since it is ‘merely human’) and what has to remain as it is (because it is instituted by God once and for all). We find our favourite aspects of Christianity, whether that be teachings or structures, stories, particular practices, principles or any other aspect, and fetishize it. In this we end up degrading the human participation in God’s creating and sustaining act.

The real challenge, I belive, is rather to find ways of thinking human action and creativity as something other than a violent intrusion upon Reality, a Reality that is nevertheless given as a whole. For it is this dynamic that lies at the very heart of tradition.

Christian Tradition, part 1

On this the first day of a new church year (1st Sunday in Advent), I thought I would post some thoughts on Christian tradition.

But first, it might be worth saying a little something about the two words Christian' and 'tradition' themselves, and how I understand them. In the final part of a three-part series on this topic, I will argue that many of the disputes between Christian denominations, as well as the internal arguments over form and content, the 'traditional' and the 'emerging', have a similar inner structure. In this first part, however, I will focus on the word 'Christian', as denoting something belonging to Christianity. Rather than defining where one could draw the line between 'Christian' and 'non-Christian', or between the 'inside' and the 'outside' of Christianity, I will simply state several aspects that the term 'Christianity' at the very least must include. Many people, even confessing Christians, find it hard to define clearly what Christianity actually is, and so I am only taking a very broad approach because I am not out to upset anyone. The second part will elaborate on the different, and in some ways contradictory, meanings of the word 'tradition'. Hopefully, one thing that will emerge after these three long posts is a more helpful (yet challenging) way of viewing differences between Christian denominations and movements.

First, then, what is included in the term 'Christianity':

One aspect of Christianity is its stories. Christianity consists of a multitude of stories on many levels. There are myths of the origins of reality, humanity and nature. There are historical narratives of the people of Israel, and of individuals connected to this narrative. There are the four accounts of the life of Jesus. There is the story of the early church and the acts and journeys - individual or collective - of the first apostles. Then there are local, regional and global church histories. Christianity is also full of parables and educational stories, such as the story of the Good Samaritan or of the Prodigal Son, or stories of the desert fathers or various saints. There are also the personal testimonies and life stories of the disciples - past and contemporary. Big stories and little stories, all interwoven, and none of them can be removed without altering the whole. Christianity can never be described apart form its stories.

A second aspect of Christianity is its teachings. Christianity consists of a set of concepts and categories that are constructed as if they were a-historical and more or less ‘timeless’. There are the creeds, and there are the doctrines, which are a kind of models or frameworks for thought and reflection, such as ‘Creation’, ‘Trinity’, ‘Incarnation’, etc. These are not necessarily sharply defined in a set of propositions, but function more as places to stand from when we engage with Reality. There are concepts such as ‘sin’, ‘redemption’, ‘atonement’, ‘repentance’, ‘salvation’, ‘theosis’, etc, which are not explicitly defined in any sacred text, are extracted from contexts and developed in relation to each other.  There are principles such as ‘pray and you shall receive’, ‘God cannot lie’, and  ‘if you do this and that, then so and so will happen’. There are logics, that is, systems of thought, such as ecclesiology, eschatology, soteriology, etc., all interwoven, and none can be removed without altering the whole. Christianity can never be described apart from its teachings.

A third aspect of Christianity is its practices. Christianity consists of sets of practices, individual and series of actions that the people of the church do together and individually. There are individual and communal practices that we would perhaps associate with collective gatherings: baptism (immersion or sprinkling of water), communion (sharing a meal consisting of bread and wine), singing together, exchanging gifts in the form of words and objects. There are also actions such as kneeling, lifting hands, bowing before alter, making the sign of a cross on one’s chest, laying hands on one another. On a wider view there are also Christian actions that take place in a ‘wider’ context, such as performing daily work to sustain one’s living, retreating to quiet places to rest and restore one’s strength, travelling to visit places that have historical significance for Christianity or to serve others (‘missions’). Christianity can never be described apart from its practices.

A fourth aspect of Christianity is its calendars. Christianity consists of temporal rhythms. These rhythms are daily, weekly, and annual. There are particular times for certain stories, tasks and practices during the year (liturgical year), seasons of working and resting, rejoicing and mourning. There are Sabbaths, holidays, festivals, fasts and feasts (Advent, Christmas, Annunciation, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, etc.), set times for particular things in particular places. So-called ‘ordinary time’ is also part of this – there is no moment of the year or the week or the day that is not somehow touched by the Christian calendar. Christianity can not be described apart from its calendars.

A fifth aspect of Christianity is its structures. Christianity consists of structures. It includes institutions, organizational systems, hierarchies of leadership and responsibility, lines of authority. In all human relationships there are certain structures of status - of domination and submission - like it or not, that is simply the case. There is a diversity of roles according to different criteria; there are roles with different status in every relationship (servant-king, flock-pastor, etc). There are many different tasks and ministries, structured in particular ways. Christianity can never be described apart from its structures.


I have gone through these aspects really quickly, and we all realize that much more could be said about each section here. My point right now is that the term 'Christianity' includes all of these, on both macro- and micro-levels. Christianity cannot be reduced to something less than all of its aspects. In other words, everything above is somehow included in the term. More could be included, but not less.  This might seem obvious, but taken together with part 2, it becomes quite radical and, for some, hard to swallow.

In Part 2 I will discuss the term 'tradition', and how I think it relates to the aspects of Christianity.

A crash course in contemporary thinking...

...with no name-dropping and as free of technical vocabulary as possible.

(If any professional philosophers read this, I apologize sincerely. Then, on the other hand, why are you, a professional philosopher, reading this blog?)

Philosophy books can be very intimidating for some of us. The vocabulary can be so specialized, and just when you think you have understood a sentence, the next sentence proves you wrong. So here is a quick crash course in contemporary thinking, without any pretentious dropping of French-sounding names, no assumptions about how updated you should be on philosophical debates or terms such as ‘Immanence’, and no implication that you have be a scholar do some good thinking. That does not mean that it will be easy to understand the implications of everything here, this is a crash course after all. There will also be no real answers here, only a way of asking questions, of posing problems, of thinking. That’s kind of the point.

THE big question is 'What is Reality?'

Imagine Reality as a circle, outside of which is nothing. Everything that is, is inside this circle. That seems simple enough, but remember that even lies, misunderstandings, and false ideas cannot be outside the circle. In Reality, there must be a place for the false as well, or we would have to draw two circles. But false ideas do not exist in a parallel reality, but in this one. Therefore, everything that is, is included in Reality, even if its nature is ‘false’.

Enter you, the philosopher.

(Model 1)

Here you are, looking at Reality, tasting it, smelling, feeling, hearing it, thinking of it. What is Reality like? How can you describe it? For many philosophers these are the important questions. How can we know anything about Reality, what are the limits to our understanding, and so on.

But for others another question becomes important: Isn’t it true that you can’t describe Reality as it is anyway, that you only see it from your particular perspective? It’s like you are wearing glasses that are coloured, and so Reality seems to have that colour. Reality seems to be a particular way, but really this is only because of your perspective. And no perspective is perfect. So how then can you see further than your own perspective?

(Model 2)

Some philosophers like the first model of the philosopher looking at Reality, whereas others really get into model two, and the critique of perspectives. The latter have sometimes called the former “modern” and themselves “postmodern”, since they see themselves as coming ‘after’ (post) the ‘moderns’, somehow being aware of (and maybe avoiding) the mistakes of their forerunners. The ‘moderns’ would sometimes respond by calling the ‘postmoderns’ irrational (that they weren’t really all that clever) or relativists (that a result of their thinking would be that anything is equally OK) or inconsistent (that their actual lives could never match up to their theories, since the phrase ‘everything is relative’ could not itself be relative).

I think it is fair to say that neither side represented the other in a very generous way.

But there is another question that arises from both model 1 and 2, that has become more important to some contemporary thinkers.


The model shows the philosopher standing outside of Reality looking in. If so, then why don’t we draw 6 billion little people looking ‘into’ Reality? But the problem here is, of course, that for the philosopher – or for you, for that matter – all other people are part of the Reality she/you is trying to explain. All other people belong inside the big circle, and you look ‘in’ on them. But if they are included in the circle, then the philosopher herself should also be included. If nothing that is, is outside of Reality, then the philosopher and all her thoughts must also be included within it.

(Model 3)

 
This is where much contemporary philosophy takes its starting point (I just call it contemporary, because it isn’t really ‘modern’ or ‘postmodern’ – it doesn’t call itself anything). The thinker, her thoughts, and Reality are parts or aspects of the same ‘thing’ – so what is this thing? How do differences between the thinker and the rest of Reality emerge? How ‘solid’ are the boundaries between different things in Reality? How ‘solid’ are the boundaries of Reality itself? How do new things come into being? What is change? What is that thing we call ‘thought’, and what is its relation to the rest of Reality?

This can make some contemporary philosophy books seem quite strange. While trying to answer the question of what Reality is, the philosopher’s is at the same time trying to fit her own thinking itself (not only her ‘finished’ thoughts, but the process of thinking where more or less fully formed thoughts emerge) into the picture – the book she is writing must be included in the Reality it describes. It is like stories that have stories within them – imagine that the bigger story was to be fitted into the smaller story that is within the bigger story…that’s right, it gets complex and strange.

A few notes on the 'God question':

For those particularly interested (and not turned off by the above simplifications), I want to suggest how the ‘God question’ fits into the three models outlined above.

In the first model, God often figures in two places at once: On the one hand, God is a kind of external assurance that the philosopher will be able to understand Reality as it is, or approximately so. As she is looking at Reality, God hovers above her as the Designer of Reality, who makes sure its laws and principles remain stable and universal. On the other hand, God is a ‘still voice within’, nearer the self than rationality, emotions or any conscious idea. God is either 'out there' to be proved, or 'within' to be experienced. Behind all ‘postmodern’ perspectives, the God of the ‘moderns’ always guarantees the unity and essential stability of Reality, whether from far ‘outside’ or from deep ‘inside’.

In the second model, God often figures as the Other perspective, the Voice that interrupts your story of what Reality is. There is no access to any Reality outside of perspectives, no shortcuts through the known purposes of a grand Designer. Here, God is that nudging sense that all is not complete, the whispering Voice of the voice-less outcasts of any seemingly flawless description. In the face of all ‘modern’ claims of underlying structures and stabilities, the God of the ‘postmoderns’ always interrupts the flow of anything that seemed complete and ‘closed’.

In the third model, the ‘God question’ becomes paradoxical and loses much of its sting altogether. Asking whether God exists or not is very much like asking whether God (whatever is meant by the term) is included in Reality. Now, for Christian theology (since it is here the ‘God question’ is most often debated) this is not really a question that makes sense. On the one hand, God is seen as Creator of the world, and so not a simple part of that world, so it seems the answer should be ‘no’. But, if one answers ‘no, God should not be included in Reality’, this amounts to saying that God does not exist, even while affirming that God is Creator. On the other hand, if one answers ‘yes, God should be included in Reality’, this seems to align God with creation, reducing God to merely one of many things that are ‘out there’ in the world.

In this third model the question whether God exists or not, is a question that makes no sense. What some do, then, is to show that Christian theology has a long history of distinguishing between the ‘existence’ of creation and the ‘Being’ of God. Created things ‘exist’ only by participating in the ‘Being’ of God, they say. Therefore, to affirm that God ‘exists’, is actually technically wrong from a theological point of view. The answer to the ‘God question’ in the third model, is neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no’, but something entirely different than the available alternatives. In a sense it is the question itself that is wrong, since it only makes sense if it first ignores theology – and then demands a theological answer. On this perspective, both model 1 and 2 ask the wrong question. In the third model, then, the question of God is thrown wide open, even though many ‘moderns’ and ‘postmoderns’ do not like it, and so are trying to shut it down again.