Monthly Archives: December 2006

Benedict XVI on the Word and Eucharist

For man, the will of God is not a foreign force of exterior origin, but the actual orientation of his own being. Thus the revelation of God’s will is the revelation of what our own being truly wishes – it is a gift. So we should learn anew to be grateful that in the word of God the will of God and the meaning of our own existence have been communicated to us. God’s presence in the word and his presence in the Eucharist belong together, inseparable. The eucharistic Lord is himself the living Word. Only if we are living in the sphere of God’s Word can we properly comprehend and properly receive the gift of the Eucharist.

Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, God is Near us: The Eucharist, the Heart of Life (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2001), 104-105.

Von Balthasar on Kenosis and The Trinity

The immanent Trinity must be understood to be that eternal, absolute self-surrender whereby God is seen to be, in himself, absolute love; this in turn explains his free, self-giving to the world as love, without suggesting that God “needed” the world process and the Cross in order to be himself . . . The Father, in uttering and surrendering himself without reserve, does not lose himself. He does not extinguish himself by self-giving, just as he does not keep back anything of himself either. For in this self surrender he is the whole divine essence. Here we see both God’s infinite power and his powerlessness; he cannot be God in any other way but in this “kenosis” within the Godhead itself. (TD IV, 323, 325)

. . . God can simultaneously remain in himself and step forth from himself. And, in thus stepping forth from himself, he descends into the abyss of all that is anti-divine . . . This is Christ’s descent into hell, into what God has utterly cast out of the world. This descent can take place in obedience (the uttermost, absolute obedience, of which only the Son is capable) because absolute obedience can become the economic form of the Son’s absolute response to the Father . . . because he is triune, God can overcome even what is hostile to God within his eternal relations. . . However wide the dramatic acting area may become, we can have confidence that no abyss is deeper than God. He embraces everything: himself and everything else. (TD III, 530-531)

Am I an Evangelical?: Interlude

Some months back I started my ‘Am I an Evangelical’ discussion with some opening descriptions of what I take evangelicalism and evangelicals to be. That post engendered a lot of discussion that I found most helpful in thinking through what it might mean to “define” evangelicalism. In so many ways evangelicalism really defies any attempt to be defined This is, I think in part due to how “evangelical” has become a social-political term in contemporary society.

One of the crucial issues in defining evangelicalism is the question of who is allowed to define it. Do we rely on the self-description of those who identify themselves as evangelicals to define their “tradition“? Do we rely on self-proclaimed “non-evangelical” Christians? On sociology? Politics? “Evangelical” could clearly be defined differently through any of those mediums and all of them get at aspects of what I think all would agree is a very complex and diverse social-political-cultural-theological phenomenon.

Many of the comments on my earlier post on this issue pointed out some of the weak points in the different definitions that were discussed. On a fundamental level my descriptions of evangelicalism were attempting to get at the theological essentials of the evangelical ethos. The question that I would raise now is if there really could be a definition of evangelicalism that is formed on the basis of some essential “evangelical theology.” In looking at historians of evangelicalism such as D.G. Hart, it seems clear to me that evangelicalism is theologically minimalist. While the E.T.S. may be a very antiquated version of evangelicalism, I still take its doctrinal basis to be at least a part of what characterizes evangelical thought and practice.

Another crucial point that was brought up is that, given the radical diversity of proclaimed evangelicals, the only thing that seems to unite them is the fact that they have had an immediate experience or encounter with Christ. Thus, Schleirmacher ironically becomes the central theologian for evangelicals. I think there is a lot of truth in this statement. In most forms of evangelicalism (though I would contend not all, especially certain brands of conservative Reformed churches who deride religious experience) this is indeed the case. What separates evangelical pietism from Schleirmacher is the way in which the Bible is understood by evangelicals to “police” and regulate the form of religious experience that is valid. In other words, while the essence of evangelicalism may be pietism, the shape of it is biblical literalism (practiced obviously to different degrees).

All of this is to say that while there can be no easy definition of evangelicalism, especially from a theological point of view, there does seem to be some kind of center involving biblicism and an existential conversion experience. Likewise there are consistent emphases placed on sexual ethics, a vast bent towards political conservatism, and generally an affirmation of central orthodox Christian doctrines such as the Trinity, the virgin birth, substitutionary atonement and so on.

While a precise definition of evangelicalism will always elude us, I do think there is enough here for us all to make an intelligent answer to the question of whether we can really associate ourselves with “evangelicalism.” And that will continue to be the focus of this series.

Tillard on Communion and Witness

Based on the perspective that the early centuries adopt, the Church finds its initial form in a “communion” whose profound, invisible link is none other than the Spirit of the Lord, but it is the apostolic group in the act of witness that makes up the visible nucleus. The apostolic witness – words and “semia” – centered entirely on the Risen Lord and associated with his Name takes on the aspect of the experienced physical presence of the One who prior to Easter was listened to or “followed” but whose saving work is proclaimed from this moment on. This apostolic martyria manifested and transfigured by the Spirit represents the “visible manifestation” of a God no longer limited to hanging over history but encompassing it, invading it. On the basis of what is acomplished in the Lord Jesus, there is a passionate invasion of human existence, of the personal destiny of every believer but also of Israel’s fate as such and “of all those who are far away, all those whom the Lord our God will call to himself”.

To enter into “communion” is to have a share in this work of God, so as to belong to the mystery of the eschatological period, that which is to be found in the “future” of the human adventure.

J.M.-R. Tillard, Church of Churches: The Ecclesiology of Communion (Collegeville, MN: Michael Glaizer Books, 1992), 6-7.

Theology and Science in the Postmodern World: Outline

Here are all the posts in my Theology and Science series so they can be accessed more easily:

Prelude

I. Introduction

II. The Evangelical Love Affair with Modern Science

III. The Poetic Imagination of Objectivity

  1. Michael Polanyi (Part 1)
  2. Thomas Khun (Part 2)

IV. Theological Perspectives

  1. Walter Brueggemann (Part 1)
  2. Lesslie Newbigin (Part 2)
  3. Stanley Grenz (Part 3)

Conclusion (In Progress)

Theology and Science in the Postmodern World: Theological Perspectives (Part 3)

3. Stanley Grenz: Science and Eschatological Realism

Stanley Grenz has done much in the way of exploring the resources of Christian theology to engage the concerns of the postmodern culture. One key issue that comes to the fore in this discussion is epistemology, particularly the question of epistemological realism. This question has doubtless been floating at some level in the mind of the reader throughout this essay. As Grenz points out, “Christian theology maintains a certain undeniable givenness to the universe.”[1] How then can Christian theology reckon with the postmodern recognition to the situatedness and intersubjectivity of all knowledge? Moreover given the fact that what the dominant rationality presents as objective is often a cloak for ideology as Brueggemann has pointed out, is there any true epistemic access into reality at all?

In answering this question Grenz makes the helpful suggestion that the givenness of the universe “is not that of a static actuality existing outside of, and co-temporally with, our socially and linguistically constructed reality. Rather, seen through the lenses of the gospel, the objectivity set forth in the biblical narrative is the objectivity of the world as God wills it.”[2] Thus the ultimate objectivity of the universe must not be seen in some form of naïve realism in which he have a God’s-eye view of the world as it is now, but “ultimately the ‘objectivity of the world’ about which we can truly speak is an objectivity of a future, eschatological world.”[3] Thus as Grenz argues, the biblical narrative “leads to what we might call an ‘eschatological realism.’”[4]

Viewed through Christian lenses, there is indeed a real universe “out there.” But this reality lies “before,” rather than “beneath” or “around” us. And it is discovered through anticipation, and not merely experimentation…Therefore, the only ultimately valid “objectivity of the world” is that of a future, eschatological world, the “actual” universe is the universe as it will one day be.[5]

Grenz’s proposal offers significant resources toward constructing a viable version of theological realism that deals both with the implications of postmodern thought and preserves the Christian theological emphasis on the givenenss of the universe. We do indeed “see in a mirror darkly” (1 Cor. 13:12) prior to the eschaton.

However, could not Grenz’s proposals be further augmented by a partially realized eschatology in which the age to come has broken into the present in Christ which thus gives us an ‘inaugurated eschatological realism’? Such an understanding of epistemological realism is able to take stock of the noetic effects of sin, creaturely situatedness and intersubjectivity while maintaining that world can indeed be known not only in the future, but also through the presence of the future wrought in the work of Christ and continually made present to the church through the Spirit. Thus an eschatological epistemology is always an ecclesial epistemology in which knowledge of God and the world takes place in the community of the Spirit, which is united with the Son, thereby coming to know the Father. And it is in this dynamic of being brought into the self-knowledge of the Triune God that the church comes to know the world “as it really is” in the Triune life which is its eschatological telos. Thus, in the ecclesial anticipation of the eschaton that is the church we are able, albeit incompletely and imperfectly to know God and the world, purely through the self-gift of the Father in Christ and the Spirit. Thus the social reality we actively receive through the Spirit does indeed allow us to truly know reality, but only as pure the pure gift of the Triune God.[6]

Thus, theologically it should be clear that the resources of biblical eschatology both in its inaugurated and future dimensions offers resources to safeguard a chastened and nuanced from of epistemological realism.[7] Such a paradigm should be sufficient to allay the fears of those that think the position sketched here requires relativism and subjectivism.

2. Conclusion: Theology and Science as Inter-Religious Dialogue?

At this point a final reflection should be sufficient to bring this essay to a close. I submit that dialogue between theology and science should more closely resemble inter-religious dialogue than anything else. Given that both disciplines consist of particular socially embodied traditions with particular ideological commitments, there is little reason to suppose that there should be a great degree of continuity and commensurability between the theological-scientific tradition embodied in the church and that embodied in the scientific community.[8] As Brueggemann has noted, science and theology cannot be dichotomized with one being objective and the other subjective. Rather both forms of discourse are poetic construals of the world that give their allegiance to a particular set of ideals and ideology. In the postmodern context where the poetic and rhetorical basis of all forms of human reasoning are becoming apparent, the poet will become more and more epistemologically basic.[9] While this will again almost certainly sound like rank relativism to modernists, both evangelical and liberal, perhaps this is more due to the fact that our theological articulation of the nature of the world has been so bound to the culture of modernity that what should have sounded like a poetic, imaginative counter-narration of the world based on the revelation of God in Christ, was instead nothing more than a domesticated legitimation of the status quo. That such has been the case will doubtless be denied by those holding to such positions, but that is the normal response of people whose perceived monopoly on rationality and power is called into question. Nevertheless, I maintain on the basis of the above argument that it is important for the church to give up on the modern scientific worldview and it’s conceptualities of objective truth, not because we do not believe our convictions are ultimately and absolutely true, but because such an understanding of truth as being that which any objective, rational person can apprehend has let us off the hook from having to be witnesses. For a Christian understanding of truth must always begin and end with the peculiarity and particularity of Jesus Christ who proclaims “I am the truth” (Jn. 14:6) and that we come to know the truth in and through discipleship that begins with the words, “Follow me” (Lk. 6:27) and ends with the cross. For it is on the cross that the dominant rationality rages against the Crucified. Nevertheless, for those of us who claim that the Crucified has been raised to resurrection life, the dominant rationality need no longer hold sway over our strivings after truth. “Behold, I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5)

—————————————–

[1] Grenz, Renewing the Center
, 245.

[2] Grenz, Renewing the Center, 245-246.

[3] Grenz, Renewing the Center, 246.

[4] Grenz, Renewing the Center, 246.

[5] Grenz, Renewing the Center, 246.

[6] For a helpful supplement to Grenz’s eschatological realism, see Middleton and Walsh, Truth is Stranger, 141-171.

[7] Consider this in conversation with Brueggemann’s prophetic epistemology. The prophetic epistemology is again connected with eschatological realism in that in the Spirit’s revelation to the prophet the world to come is revealed to the prophet and breaks into the present in the form of a counter-‘as’ in Brueggemann’s terminology.

[8] For what is perhaps the most nuanced, if I think a bit overly optimistic attempt to engage in a critical interdisciplinary approach to theology and science, see Alister McGrath, A Scientific Theology: Three Volumes, Nature, Reality, Theory (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001-2003).

[9] See Brueggemann, Finally Comes the Poet for an exploration of this theme.

Theology and Science in the Postmodern World: Theological Perspectives (Part 2)

2. Lesslie Newbigin: Proper Confidence in a Pluralist Society

As noted above, Newbigin’s work has achieved much attention and acclaim, particularly his work on pluralism and the issue of certainty in the Christian faith. Newbigin provides in many ways the theological application of Polanyi’s insights to the dialogue between theology and science. Newbigin notes that in the current post-Christendom situation the church finds itself by and large marginalized in public discourse with its convictions being relegated to the sphere of the “private.”[1] Newbigin protests this relegation and takes the modern conception of science and politics to task in arguing against the idea that “facts” and “beliefs” are actually distinguishable. “Every exercise of reason” Newbigin argues, “depends on a social and linguistic tradition which is, therefore something which has the contingent, accidental character of all historical happenings.”[2]

Newbigin presses home this point through the example of the famous statement of the American founding fathers, “we hold these truths to be self evident…” As Newbigin points out, “it is obvious to us that the statements which follow these words are by no means self-evident. What we call ‘self-evident truths’ are not the starting point for rational argument, but the product of a long history of rational argument.”[3] All reasoning, Newbigin argues is constituted in a social and linguistic tradition which gives it shape and intelligibility. Therefore, science cannot be seen as an objective, neutral transcendent discipline to which theology must give an account.[4] Rather both science and theology are socially embodied forms of human reasoning and faith which must be judged on their own terms. Thus,

the true opposition [between theology and science] is not between reason and
revelation as sources and criteria for truth. It is between two uses to
which reason is put. It may be put to the service of an autonomy which
refuses to recognize any other personal reality except its own; which treats all
reality as open to the kind of masterful exploration that is appropriate to the
world of things, where the appropriate phrase is “I have discovered.” But
it may equally be put to the service of an openness which is ready to listen to,
be challenged and questioned by another personal reality. In neither kind
of activity can we engage except as rational beings. When reason is set
against revelation, the terms of the debate have been radically confused.
What is happening is not that reason is set against something which is
unreasonable, but that another tradition of rational argument is being set
against a tradition of rational argument which takes as its starting point a
moment or moments of divine self-revelation and which will continue to say, not
“We discovered,” but “God has spoken and acted.”[5]

When viewed in this light the confrontation between theology and science is seen not as a conflict between faith and reason but between different forms of socially embodied rationality and faith. Thus, on Newbigin’s view the standard evangelical approaches to science are tragic mistakes in that they fail to realize the true nature of the scientific tradition.

The scarcely concealed assumption is that he word “scientific” refers to a kind
of study which has no prior commitments about the nature of truth but has a
totally open mind, as thought the scientific mind were a sort of empty page on
which nothing had yet been written. The truth, of course is that both
approaches – the confessional and the scientific – presuppose (as all rational
inquiry must presuppose) a long tradition of thought and practice that
determines which beliefs are plausible and which are not.[6]

Thus, Newbigin recognizes that theology has no interest in seeking to accommodate scientific reasoning on its own terms. Science and theology stand on equal footing as socially embodied traditions of rational inquiry that each have constitutive narratives about the nature of reality. The idea of scientific certainty propagated by the Enlightenment turned out to be a chimera. All knowing entails faith, indeed it is “an illusion to imagine that there can be available to us a kind of certainty that does not involve personal commitment.”[7]

Newbigin notes that the affirmation that Jesus was crucified and proclaimed to be alive by his disciples, which is unquestionably accepted as a historical fact is not in principle different from the disciples’ affirmation that through Christ God was reconciling the world to himself. “Both statements are interpretations, the one being the interpretation of the disciples and the other being the interpretation shaped by the contemporary, modern worldview. Facts are not entities that simply implant themselves in a vacant mind; they are grasped by a mind trained in a particular culture to grasp them.”[8]

Thus, Newbigin rightly affirms in the same vein as Brueggemann that the encounter between theology and science must look radically different that has tended to be the case. Rather than domesticating the Christian message “within the reigning plausibility structure”[9] the proper theological response to science is to present an alternative plausibility structure which is embodied in the Christian story. It is pertinent on this point to quote Newbigin at length,

The business of the church is to tell and embody a story, the story of God’s
mighty acts in creation and redemption and God’s promises concerning what will
be in the end. The church affirms the truth of this story by celebrating it, interpreting it, and enacting it in the life of the contemporary world. It has no other way of affirming its truth. If it supposes that its truth can be authenticated by a reference to some allegedly more reliable truth claim, such as those offered by the philosophy of religion, then it has implicitly denied the truth by which it lives. In this sense, the church shares the postmodernists’ replacement of eternal truths with a story. But there is a profound difference between the two. For the
postmodernists, there are many stories, but no overarching truth by which they
can be assessed. They are simply stories. The church’s affirmation is that the story it tells, embodies and enacts is the true story and that others are to be evaluated in reference to it…It is if you like, a counterhistory, interpreting the same evidence in a different way.[10]

There will doubtless be objections that such a view of the nature reason and rationality leads to relativism and irrationalism. However such an objection begs the question by simply presupposing the view that Newbigin’s work calls into question. Moreover
, following Polanyi, Newbigin affirms the reality of objective truth, but simply recognizes the fact that there is no access to reality except on the part of knowing subjects who are socially and linguistically constituted in their patterns of rationality. This understanding necessarily rejects the “bogus objectivity” that has been exemplified in the definition of truth as

the correspondence of between a person’s beliefs and actual facts. This definition is futile since there is no way of knowing what the actual facts are except by the activity of knowing subjects. The definition implies a standpoint outside the real human situation of knowing subjects – and no such standpoint is available.[11].

This recognition, however does not entail subjectivism, because all belief is, as Polanyi has argued, personal commitment that is held with universal intent. Thus,

the alternative to subjectivity is not an illusory claim to objectivity, but the
willingness to publish and to test. And this has obvious relevance to the
Christian claim that Jesus is the true and living way, the master clue by
following whom we shall be led into the truth. We do not validate this claim by
calling to our aid some philosophical system based on other grounds. There are
no more reliable grounds than what are given to us in God’s revelation. The
proper answer to the charge of subjectivity is world mission, but it is not
world mission as proselytism but as exegesis.[12]

It should be very clear at this point the resources that Newbigin offers toward constructing a properly theological response to science that avoids the problems of the standard evangelical approaches. However, there remains the issue of epistemological realism should also be engaged. Newbigin is certainly right about the provisional, subjective and tacit dimensions of all knowledge. However, Christian theology seems inherently to maintain some level of givenness or reality to the universe. Toward explicating how those two elements can be held together I turn briefly to the work of Stanley Grenz.

—————————————

[1] See Lesslie Newbigin, The Gospel in a Pluralist Society (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989), 57-65; see also Foolishness to the Greeks, 95-100.

[2] Newbigin, The Gospel, 57.

[3] Newbigin, The Gospel, 58.

[4] Newbigin notes the similarities in the descriptions of scientific discovery and divine revelation. The descriptions of both of these events are strikingly similar, rendering invalid the epistemic distinction between reason and revelation. See Newbigin, The Gospel, 60-61.

[5] Newbigin, The Gospel, 62.

[6] Lesslie Newbigin, Proper Confidence: Faith, Doubt and Certainty in Christian Discipleship (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 46.

[7] Newbigin, Proper Confidence, 67.

[8] Newbigin, Proper Confidence, 75-76.

[9] Newbigin, The Gospel, 10.

[10] Newbigin, Proper Confidence, 76-77.

[11] Newbigin, The Gospel, 22.

[12] Lesslie Newbigin, Truth to Tell: The Gospel as Public Truth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 33; see also The Gospel, 126.

Theology and Science in the Postmodern World: Theological Perspectives (Part 1)

IV. Regaining a Theological Perspective on Objectivity and Knowledge

A critical point is being reached in constructing a theological response to the challenge of science. We have noted that science is considerably more limited and less intimidating than the standard evangelical approaches have often thought. Science, like theology is a particular, situated discipline embodied in a community, bound by a common faith and worldview. Thus, as has been stated above, dialogue between theology and science when seen in this light is analogous to inter-religious dialogue.

However, prior to explicating this claim in its fullness, I will articulate the theological rationale for so doing. I will engage with three different strands of the Christian theological discipline as represented by three important areas of theological study, biblical theology, missiology and theology of culture. First I will examine the biblical theology of noted Old Testament theologian, Walter Brueggemann whose numerous works in biblical studies engage significantly with issues of ideology, objectivity and epistemology. Following this, I will examine the thought of missiologist, Lesslie Newbigin who in many ways provides a theological exposition of Polanyi in attempting to rework the question of theology and science. Finally, I will breifly engage with the work of postconservative evangelical theologian, Stanley Grenz, who has sought to engage the questions of epistemology and theological method in the postmodern context.

1. Walter Brueggemann: Prophetic Criticism and Objective Ideology

Walter Brueggemann is almost unquestionably the most influential Old Testament theologian in the United States today. His many works hit on countless Old Testament themes, always with a vigorous application to contemporary living. One of the key features that pervades all of Brueggemann’s thought is the confrontation between the world (view) articulated in the biblical narrative and the ideological forms of dominant rationality[1] that it speaks against and deconstructs. Given what we have seen thus far through the work of Polanyi and Kuhn, science is not an objective, disinterested discipline, but is in fact particular, sectarian, and ideologically driven. When modern science is seen in this light, Brueggemann’s work can be seen as a very helpful commentary against the accommodation of theology to science. When theology and science encounter one another, we witness not simply a conflict of abstract disciplines, but a collision of communities, each with distinct ideological-theological commitments.

As Brueggemann makes clear, following key postmodern thinkers, scientifically ‘objective’ facts that purport to describe the world as it ‘really is’ are in fact acts of imaginative construal, that is of the imaginative application of a particular, partisan paradigm (read: worldview) for viewing reality on the basis of a particular political-ideological agenda. “Thus all knowing,” Brueggemann argues, “is imaginative construal, even if disguised as something else. The world we take as ‘given’ is a long established act of imagination that appears to be and claims assent as the only legitimate occupant of the field. It follows, then, that long-imagined ‘givens’ can indeed be challenged and a ‘countergiven’ is entertainable.”[2] Brueggemann goes on to argue that

the long-established ‘givens’ will prevail because they are accepted as beyond
criticism. They will prevail until a counter-‘as’ is imagined and
voiced. It is astonishing how a long-established ‘as’ can keep people in
their social place, how a daring an alternative ‘as’ can be in changing social
relationships and the power that keeps them unchanged.[3]

Brueggemann explicates this notion of the ‘as’ and the counter-‘as’ through the exhortation of 1 Corinthians 7:29-31 where Christians are enjoined to live “as free persons.” Brueggemann notes that on one level this injunction to live ‘as’ on the basis of faith is precisely contrary to “facts.” However, this is only so because “facts” have been co-opted by the dominant rationality which seeks to taut itself as objectively true. The Christian injunction to live as free persons then, is not simply a fiction, but is a counter-‘as’ which gives way to a new reality. “It accepts an alternative construal of reality as a legitimate and valid one, thereby displacing another ‘as’ that is the imposed work some other act of imagination.”[4] Thus for Brueggemann, “the Christian gospel is a counter-‘as’ to the long accepted ‘as’ that is widely and uncritically accepted as objectively real.”[5]

Ultimately, this perspective must be seen as deriving from an alternative epistemology that is particular to the Christian narrative and community. The Christian community – to the extent that it is faithful – operates not on the basis of the dominate ideology that masquerades as objective truth but on the basis of a prophetic epistemology that is grounded in the reality of the work of God that the community has witnessed in its common life. Put another way, there is nothing ‘objective’ about the Exodus.[6] The Exodus is a reality to which there is no objective access apart from how it is seen on the basis of the reigning paradigm (worldview) of the observer. The higher critic imaginatively construes this event to be a myth-shrouded story of a small group of slaves escaping from Egypt on a well-placed sandbar.[7] This imaginative, poetic, ideological interpretation of the Exodus is one that has obtained dominance and thus presents itself as ‘objective historical fact.’ However, when it is recognizes that this assertion is nothing more than the commitment of a community to a particular form of life and interpretation in the world, it becomes apparent that it is possible to articulate a “counterworld” which offers new and imaginative possibilities that the previous ideology sought to suppress.[8]

This can be further illustrated through Brueggemann’s expositional work on the historical Psalms (Ps. 78, 105, 106, 136). Here Brueggemann points out that these Psalms “articulate a counter-world, offered as a subversive alternative to the dominant, easily available worlds that are ever present in and tempting for Israel.”[9] In contrast to the ‘objective’ views of higher critics, the Psalms do not articulate a primitive worldview, which needs to be superceded by a scientific one. Rather, “’salvation history’ is in fact a counter-history, a recital ‘from below’ the royal, established account of social reality.”[10]

All of this culminates in Brueggemann’s vision of a prophetic epistemology that should undergird Christian theology. Over-against the dominant, ‘objective,’ ‘scientific,’ royal rationality, “‘a more excellent way’ had been given to us in narrative mode, the only mode available outside royal rationality. O
nly stories lie beyond royal reason.”[11]

Moreover, as Brueggemann points out, the biblical presentation of an alternative epistemology grounded in the prophetic paradigm does not oppress and suppress the other as the royal rationality does. Rather, the world seen through the eyes of prophetic epistemology ultimately seeks to reconcile the enemy, rather than to overcome and dominate him either through ideological or technological manipulation.[12] This is portrayed most clearly in Brueggeman’s reading of the narrative of 2 Kings 6:8-23. In this situation, the people of Israel are under the oppression of Syria, who seemingly raids Israel at will. However, Elisha the prophet is constantly thwarting Syria’s raids by foretelling when and where they will attack (6:8-10). Thus, the Syrian king dispatches his army to apprehend Elisha. However, when the army surrounds Elisha, the eyes of his terrified servant are opened to see that the armies of God far outnumber the power of the dominating, hegemonic enforcers of Syria (6:17). Then, as blind eyes are opened, the eyes of the Syrian army are struck blind (6:18).[13] Elisha then proceeds to lead the entire army to Jerusalem. Once there, the king asks Elisha if he should put them to the sword (6:21). Elisha, however, denies the king any such opportunity to meet the Syrian threat with violence. Instead food is set before the former invaders and what was meant to be violent conflict erupts into a joyous feast. The narrative goes on to note that after this event, Syria stops raiding Israel (6:23).

This narrative shows forth that the biblical vision is one in which the reality of the prophetic counter-epistemology does not lead to the violent overthrow of the dominant rationality, but rather to a communal feast which brings forth a peace that the rationality of kings cannot understand. As Brueggemann points out,

the prophetic narrative embedded in these royal recitals of certitude is a
strange idiom. It protests against and undermines royal certitude with its
power for life. Royal power could only lead to death and endless
hostility. The narrative proposes another way that breaks the vicious
cycle of death and hostility.[14]

This alternative epistemology that breaks the vicious cycle of the dominant rationality is grounded in radically new way of seeing the world, namely through the eyes of the prophet who recognizes that “those who are with us are more that those who are with them” (6:16).

To be drawn into this new and different way of knowing the real world around us involves a radical reeducation that teaches us

  • The cruciality of prayers of petition which resubmit life the One with
    life-giving power, to be weaned from the promise of kings;
  • To perceive and experience the world differently, apart from the royal
    ideology and slogan;
  • To watch, expect and participate in the shift of power which the gospel
    works in the world…
  • To be present, as we are able, with the communities from below who treasure
    subversive narratives, who know differently…
  • To participate in the transformation to a more excellent way in which our
    wars may turn to feasts, our killing becomes feeding[15]

What then are the implications of Brueggemann’s work for understanding the relationship between theology and science? Brueggemann proposes that “our evangelical infrastructure…will in the first instance not seek to accommodate scientific learning, but will make its own statement about the character and quality of the world.”[16] This could be taken as an essential summary of the thesis of this essay. For anyone who takes the radically counter-ideological thrust of the biblical metanarrative seriously, it seems difficult to hold that there will ever be a comfortable relationship between theology and science.[17] As Brueggemann states concisely, “Israel’s elemental suspicion regularly notices that what appears to be rational is in fact interested, that what appears to be objective is in fact self-serving.”[18] The counter-world articulated through the prophetic epistemology can never be easily amenable to the dominant rationality of kings and empires. “Israel’s alternative memory notices that what passes for public discourse is in fact a new sectarian proposal of an ideological kind.”[19] As such I submit that theology must not approach science in an attempt to show that it has ‘scientific’ validity. Such an approach ignores the ideological roots of science that are decidedly anthropocentric and commissioned by the powers of the dominant empire.

Some will doubtless object that such a view is nothing more than fideism and sectarianism.[20] This objection is self-refuting however in that it fails to recognize the inherent fideistic and sectarian characteristics of the scientific tradition itself. Descartes’ proclamation of cogito ergo sum is not a statement of objective fact, but of fideism. So also were the canons of Baconian science, Newtonian physics and Einstein’s theory of relativity (which is not to say that all of these are false or equally false, only that they came about through creativity and faith, not disinterested rational analysis). As Polanyi and Khun have shown, all acts of knowing, scientific or otherwise depend on the fiduciary structure, or paradigm through which the knower sees and reasons. To the extent that theology fails to recognize the inherently fideistic and particular dimensions of science, it will simply be giving a foreign and often incommensurate system of belief a monopoly over what counts as admissible truths in the public arena. This argument has been made at length by noted missiologist, Lesslie Newbigin whose substantial work on pluralism had achieved much attention. It is to his work that I turn now.

———————————————————–

[1] This idea is prevalent throughout Brueggemann’s writings. See for example Interpretation and Obedience: From Faithful Reading to Faithful Living (Minneapolis: Fortress 1991), 35-39, 54-56; Texts that Linger, Words that Explode: Listening to Prophetic Voices (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 41-44.

[2] Brueggemann, Texts Under Negotiation, 13.

[3] Brueggemann, Texts Under Negotiation, 15.

[4] Brueggemann, Texts Under Negotiation, 14.

[5] Brueggemann, Texts Under Negotiation, 15.

[6] In discussing the Exodus, or any other event depicted in the Bible a distinction must be made between the event itself (to which there is no access) and the imaginative, theological-ideological interpretation of that event. The biblical text itself is one such interpretation and the investigations of higher critics is simply another. On this point see Walter Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 102-105, 726-729; see also John H. Sailhamer, Old Testament Theology: A Canonical Approach (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1995), 36-85.

[7] It should be noted that these same criticisms of higher criticism could also be made against the evangelical doctrine of the historical-grammatical hermeneutic. Both attempt to get ‘behind the text’ to the ‘actual event’ so as to support a particular ideological-theological perspective that is not that of the biblical text itself. On this point, see Brueggemann, Texts Under Negotiation, 64-67; see also Murphy, Anglo-American Postmodernity, 87-129.

[8] See Brueggemann, Texts Under Negotiation, 26-56 for a description of the idea of a “counterworld.”

[9] Brueggemann, Abiding Astonishment: Psalms, Modernity and the Making of History (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox, 1991), 28; see also Texts that Linger, 73-87 for an excellent account of the different imperial “worlds” (Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Persia) with which Israel had to contend throughout its narrative history.

[10] Brueggemann, Abiding Astonishment, 43.

[11] Brueggemann, Interpretation and Obedience, 35.

[12] On this point see Jacques Ellul, Propaganda: The Formation of Men’s Attitudes (New York: Random House, 1973); The Technological Society (New York: Vintage Books, 1964); see also Middleton and Walsh, Truth is Stranger, 20-22.

[13] Perhaps one of the archetypal paradigm shifts.

[14] Brueggemann, Interpretation and Obedience, 31.

[15] Brueggemann, Interpretation and Obedience, 38-39.

[16] Brueggemann, Texts Under Negotiation, 33.

[17] On this point see Middleton and Walsh, Truth is Stranger, 87-107.

[18] Brueggemann, Interpretation and Obedience, 54.

[19] Brueggemann, Interpretation and Obedience, 54.

[20] On the issue of sectarianism, see Brueggemann, Interpretation and Obedience, 41-65.

Barth and de Lubac on the Church

The following sections are just a couple fragments from an essay I recently finished for an advanced ecclesiology seminar. In the paper I engage the ecclesiologies of Henri de Lubac and Karl Barth and try to show how both offer mutual correctives toward constructing an ecclesiology that is both Christological and Logocentric (Barth) and sacramental, Trinitarian, and participatory (de Lubac). Your comments are welcome.

—————-

In light of the contributions of the ecclesiology Barth and de Lubac it is necessary to explore the relationship between the divine action of God in Christ the Logos and the ongoing action of the embodied soma of Christ, the church. Barth teaches us that the divine Word must in some sense be a genuine novum which is external and unprecedented. De Lubac, however challenges us to explore more deeply the expansive gratuitous nature of divine action which not only precedes but also includes and incorporates the response of the church into its triune movement.

What is central to properly explicating an ecclesial perspective that is informed by Barth and de Lubac is to note the different ways in which they construe the shape of redemption. For Barth, redemption is a matter of the restitution and restoration of the relation between humanity and God that has been disrupted by sin. [1] For Barth, the essence of redemption is ultimately a restoration of created humanity to its proper vocation as revealed in Christ, the true human. The church then is given the role of bearing witness to this reality.

For de Lubac, however there is no such thing as “pure nature” and that the grace of God is ubiquitous, orienting all creation toward its telos which is communion with the triune God whether it rejects that vocation or not.[2] Thus, the church is the place where that communion is realized in anticipatory form. The church then is the reality of redemption taking shape in the world. For de Lubac, in contrast to Barth the church is not instrumental to God’s purpose of redeeming the world, rather the world is instrumental to God’s purpose of fashioning a body and bride for his Son. Simon Chan’s contention accords with de Lubac’s, “The church does not exist in order to fix a broken creation; rather, creation exists to realize the church.”[3]

What is clearly central to properly exploring the dramatic interplay between divine and ecclesial action involves negotiating the trinitarian and ecclesial issues that Barth and de Lubac address differently. Ultimately, I contend that de Lubac needs to be informed by Barth’s christocentricism while Barth’s understanding of the ontological discontinuity between nature and grace and divine and human action needs to be corrected by de Lubac’s understanding of the ubiquity of grace and the expansive and non-competitive nature of divine action.

[1] CD IV/1, 22; 36. Cf. Bender, Karl Barth’s Christological Ecclesiology, 130-131.

[2] Brief mention should be made of de Lubac’s definition of grace. While his exact definition is not entirely clear, his emphasis throughout is that grace is God’s complete gift of himself through the Spirit to the church. Clearly for him this is experienced most intensely in the Eucharist, though de Lubac speaks only rarely of infusion. Rather the emphasis is on the relationality of grace as the love of God which makes peace between humankind and God and between human persons. See A Brief Catechesis on Nature and Grace, 119-121; 132-137.

[3] Simon Chan, Liturgical Theology: The Church as Worshipping Community (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 2006), 23.

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The Word and sacraments are at once the divine verbum externum (vera visibli) and the gratuitous inhabitatio dei. They are the sovereign work of God extra nos and simultaneously the divine condescension en nobis. This is to appropriate the best insights of Barth and de Lubac in the construction of a truly theological ontology. Thus, the church bears witness to and corresponds to Christ (Barth) because as his body she stands in contiguous relation to the head, thus participating in the reality of his hypostatic person and thus in the triune life of God (de Lubac). The church and Christ exist as one body in contiguous relation, intimately connected, yet distinct.[1] Therefore, through the sacramental base-practices of the church the Son and Spirit continually actualize the reality of divine-human communion as the church, the totus Christus participates and is transformed in and through the depths of the triune love mediated therein. The sacramental mediation of the church is indeed an extension of the soteriological mediation of the Son, but the church is only that extension in the mode of pathos, of receptivity, humility, and poverty before the sheer gratuity of God’s action pro nobis in the cross and resurrection of Christ.[2] Thus, the expansive and ubiquitous outpouring of the pneumatic love of God in and as the totus Christus draws the entire creation into the ecclesial communio such that in the eschaton all things are found within the infinite communio that is the Trinity.

The church then in its practice of proclaiming the Word and celebrating the sacraments participates in and extends the movement of the Trinity into the world. Not in any way because of what she is in herself, for in herself she is nothing. But rather because of the gracious outpouring of the love of God by the Holy Spirit which enflames and enlivens, drawing the church into the expansive movement of God into the world. For God’s saving action in the world is not static, but gratuitous and infinitely expansive. Thus, through Christ and the Spirit God “makes room” for the church within his action for the salvation of the world, allows us at once participation in his eternal communion and participation in his trinitarian mission to drawn all persons into sacramental, spousal communion with God in the ecclesial communion.[3]

[1] Contiguity here refers to a deep connection based on proximity and interpenetration. Thus, to borrow an analogy from biology (which is strikingly appropriate) the brain is contiguous to the spinal column and the spine is contiguous to the pelvis.

[2] See Hütter, Suffering Divine Things, 115-128 and de Lubac, Catholicism, 225-226.

[3] See Schindler, Heart of the World, 20-23.

Theology and Science in the Postmodern Word: The Poetic Imagination of ‘Objectivity’ (Part 2)

III. Scientists Deconstructing Science: The Poetic Imagination of ‘Objectivity’ (Part 2)

2. Thomas Kuhn: Paradigm Shifts and the Priority of Worldview

If Polanyi is responsible for laying the foundation of a new understanding of science, Thomas Kuhn must be recognized as the most influential voice to extend and articulate this new understanding of the nature of scientific progress and inquiry. Kuhn’s book, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions exploded onto the contemporary scene in 1962. As David Naugle puts the matter, ”The damage reports or victory pronouncements, depending on your perspective, are still coming in. Kuhn’s concept of scientific revolutions as paradigm shifts has been remarkably influential (as well as controversial), being nothing less than a frontal attack on the traditional understanding of the authority, rationality and indeed the very nature of modern science.”[1]

It should be noted from the outset that Kuhn seems to be implicitly dependent on Polanyi’s work for much of his articulation of the nature of science, particularly Polanyi’s development of the role of tradition and community in scientific understanding and practice.[2] Kuhn however goes on to describe at greater length the nature of scientific discovery, exploring how scientific revolutions actually take place in the history of science. Contrary to the standard assumption of modern science that scientific discovery consists in the steady accumulation of data, Kuhn argues powerfully that scientific discoveries emerge through the shifting of paradigms or worldviews.[3] Scientific discovery takes place through one paradigm overtaking another as the dominant scientific way of looking at the world. Throughout his treatment Kuhn extensively traces this phenomenon historically through examining scientific revolutions such as the shift from Newtonian to Einsteinian physics and the shift from Aristotelian theories of motion to Galileo to Copernicus. This phenomenon is entirely contrary to the ‘science as accumulation’ view. As Kuhn points out, “Cumulative acquisition of unanticipated novelties proves to be an almost non-existent exception to the rule of scientific development. The man who takes historic fact seriously must suspect that science does not tend toward the ideal that our image of cumulativeness has suggested.” [4]

Over-against the standard view of science as the progressive accumulation of knowledge, Kuhn shows through both historical and philosophical argument that scientific advancements take place through the ascendance of new paradigms of scientific inquiry, which recognize inherent anomalies and crises in the previous paradigm and offer new and preferable prospects for scientific inquiry if adopted. “Confronted with anomaly or with crisis, scientists take a different attitude toward existing paradigms, and the nature of their research changes accordingly.”[5]

Moreover, paradigms are not simply ways of interpreting the world according to Kuhn, but function much more as lenses through which the scientist observes the world. “Rather than being an interpreter, the scientist who embraces a new paradigm is like the man wearing inverting lenses. Confronting the same constellation of objects as before and knowing that he does so, he nevertheless finds them transformed through and through in many of their details.”[6] Thus, paradigms do not function actively so much as tacitly (Kuhn borrows Polanyi’s phrase on this point[7]). Paradigms are not ways of interpreting so much as ways of seeing. Interpretation is a central aspect of exploring a paradigm, but it is not technically possible to interpret a paradigm. The interpretive enterprise is key,

But the interpretive enterprise…can only articulate a paradigm, not correct
it. Paradigms are not corrigible by modern science at all. Instead,
as we have already seen, normal science ultimately leads only to the recognition
of anomalies and to crises. And these are terminated, not by deliberation
and interpretation, but by a relatively sudden and unstructured event like the
gestalt switch. Scientists then often speak of the ‘scales falling from
the eyes’ or of ‘the lightning flash’ that ‘inundates’ a previously obscure
puzzle, enabling its components to be seen in a new way that for the first time
permits its solution.[8]

Thus, Kuhn argues that scientific revolutions are not the result of objective reasoning and rationally adjudicating between different pieces of data, but rather the ascendancy of new paradigms that come to prominence through the conversion of scientists from the old paradigms to the new. The vocabulary of conversion is central for Kuhn (and for the Christian!). “The transfer of allegiance from paradigm to paradigm is a conversion experience that cannot be forced”[9] declares Kuhn. “Conversions will occur a few at a time until, after the last holdouts have died, the whole profession will again be practicing under a single, but now different, paradigm.”[10] The fact that scientific discovery and knowledge is ultimately dependent not on objective data, but on paradigms through which all data is seen means that faith has primacy in all knowing. This faith is necessary because long established and largely functional paradigms are difficult things to dispense with. The scientist must “have faith that the new paradigm will succeed with the many large problems that confront it, knowing only that the older paradigm has failed in a few. As decision of that kind can only be made on faith.”[11]

It is important to note that for Kuhn this faith is not groundless. Rather it is grounded in the conviction of the scientist that the new paradigm has good hope of being the one that best views reality, having both personal and aesthetic appeal.[12] However, ultimately the faith of scientists in the new paradigm is best established through the faithful and fruitful scientific life and practice that emerges in the scientific communities committed to the new paradigm. The acceptance of a new paradigm cannot of course be based on empirical facts or rational reasons because paradigms that govern how facts and reasons are seen and understood are prior to any rational or empirical investigation. Thus paradigms can ultimately be accepted only on faith that is grounded in the personal, aesthetic and conceptual appeal of the paradigm and whether or not it is persuasively articulated and embodied by the scientific communities already practicing the paradigm. There are clearly significant continuities between this understanding of paradigm-conversion and the Christian understanding of conversion and entrance into the Christian community.
/>Kuhn’s seminal work holds many implications for theology. His erudite argument that all forms of scientific reasoning are governed by paradigms and that scientific revolutions occur only when paradigms shift is extremely persuasive. Many have objected that Kuhn’s view of the nature of scientific enquiry leads to relativism and antirealism. Naugle notes that many have argued that “Kuhnian paradigms are incommensurable, relative, arational and antirealist.”[13] Kuhn denies that his position entails relativism in the postscript to the second edition of The Structure of Scientific Revolutions.[14] Moreover, even if such charges are correct, that does not mean that Kuhn’s view is wrong. Such criticisms do not actually engage with the substance of Kuhn’s argument and as such constitute a poor objection.

In the end, it seems impossible to avoid the force of Kuhn’s argument. The fact of paradigms that at least partially determine how we see and understand the world is almost unanimously undeniable in contemorary philosophy and theology. For those that fear that Kuhn’s argument will lead to relativism and antirealism, there are numerous ways to avoid such implications while recognizing the force of Kuhn’s case. This is especially possible when Kuhn’s dependence on the work of Polanyi is recognized. Polanyi’s commitment to both the situatedness of the scientist and the reality of a genuinely “other” reality that is engaged with in the process of knowing undergirds a reading of Kuhn’s doctrine of the paradigm that is able to avoid such difficulties. In contrast to the reading of Kuhn’s doctrine of paradigms as incommensurable, relative, arational and antirealist, a properly theological reading of Kuhn will yield an understanding of paradigms that is better termed as semi-commensurable, situated, supra-rational and eschatologically realist.

3. Conclusion: The Hermeneutic of Scientific Faith

At this point is should be clear that Polanyi and Kuhn offer much in the way of revolutionizing theological approaches to science. Both substantially refute the notion that science is an objective, disinterested, non-ideological discipline that holds a monopoly on facts. In contrast to such a modernist conception of science, Polanyi and Kuhn show that science is ultimately an intersubjective and situated discipline which is embodied in a community of practitioners bound by a common faith and sustained by a tradition.[15] Moreover, in addition to being an intersubjective, fiduciary, communal, and tradition-mediated discipline, science is also governed by presupposed paradigms (worldviews) which determine the nature of scientific inquiry and discovery.

In light of this understanding of science the standard evangelical responses to science must be reevaluated. The practice of seeking to show that Christian belief could conform to scientific reasoning was based on the conception of science as objective and disinterested that Polanyi and Kuhn have refuted. Such approaches ultimately are both theologically and scientifically bankrupt in that they are unable to account for the distinctive and in many cases incommensurate presuppositions of theology and science. In order to move beyond such approaches, it is necessary to return to the resources of Christian theology itself to see what resources it offers to facilitating a proper response to the challenge of science. It is to that task that I turn now.

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[1] Naugle, Worldview, 196.

[2] See Thomas Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, 3rd Ed., (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 191-198; see also Alasdair MacIntyre’s explication of the relationship between Polanyi and Kuhn in “Epistemological Crises, Dramatic Narrative and Philosophy of Science,” in Why Narrative?: Readings in Narrative Theology, Stanley Hauerwas and L. Gregory Jones, eds. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1990), 138-157. MacIntyre makes some fascinating criticisms of Kuhn’s view of scientific revolutions in that it does not sufficiently account for the narrative dimension of human rationality and inquiry. Such a criticism is, I think well founded. However, it does not diminish the substantial contribution of Kuhn’s notion of the paradigm.

[3] See Kuhn, Structure, 94-97.

[4] Kuhn, Structure, 96.

[5] Kuhn, Structure, 90.

[6] Kuhn, Structure, 122.

[7] See Kuhn, Structure, 191-198; see also Michael Polanyi, The Tacit Dimension (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1966).

[8] Kuhn, Structure, 122.

[9] Kuhn, Structure, 151.

[10] Kuhn, Structure, 152.

[11] Kuhn, Structure, 158. One cannot help thinking here of the Jesus’ metaphor of new wine and new wineskins (Matt. 9:17).

[12] See Kuhn, Structure, 158-198.

[13] Naugle, Worldview, 205.

[14] See Kuhn, Structure, 205-207.

[15] MacIntyre would add that science presupposes a particular narrative identity as well. See above, n. 42.

Theology for Beginners

Ben Meyers at Faith and Theology has now completed his series “Theology for Beginners.” I cannot recommend it highly enough. For all the introductions to theology and primers out there, I have not seen anything like what Ben has done in these posts. They capture the heart of the gospel in its cruciform and trinitarian beauty in a way that I have never seen done in such succint treatments.

Well done, Ben! This is a great service to us all.

And a Merry X-Files Christmas to All

Theology and Science in the Postmodern World: The Poetic Imagination of Objectivity (Part 1)

III. Scientists Deconstructing Science: The Poetic Imagination of ‘Objectivity’ (Part 1)

It should now be apparent that any theological approach to science must attempt to move beyond the standard modernist account. The modernist account of science pictures it as an objective, universal discipline that operates impartially on the basis of the scientific method, which is a disinterested, non-ideological endeavor. Thus, scientific practice is the objective application of the scientific method and scientific discovery, the gradual progressive accumulation of scientific data.

It is this perspective of science as objective inquiry and steady accumulation of data that must be called into question. To engage in this question, I will enter into dialogue with two of the most prominent and influential philosophers of science of the twentieth century, Michael Polanyi and Thomas Kuhn. Their work offers a serious challenge to modernist understanding of science which is parallel to a proper theological critique of the modernist conception of science.

1. Michael Polanyi: Personal Knowledge and Ecclesial Science

As early as the 1940’s philosophers of science have been calling into question the modern, objectivist understanding of science. Perhaps no one has been more influential in this challenge than the Jewish Hungarian chemist-turned philosopher of science, Michael Polanyi.[1] Polanyi’s work radically calls into question the modernist ideal of scientific objectivity. Polanyi rather argues that science is inescapably value-laden, with every scientific claim involving personal commitment. In scientific knowing, like all forms of knowing, the knower is intimately involved in at all points. This is a direct challenge to the objectivist conception of science where the knower was required to disengage from the act of knowing in order to be ‘objective.’[2] According to Polanyi, the modernist ideal of the objective knower is simply an illusion. There is no detached, disinterested standpoint from which to look at the world ‘objectively.’ Rather, all knowing is perspectival and subjective – that is to say, it requires a knowing subject. That all knowing involves subjectivity by no means requires complete relativism or subjectivism. While some have accused Polanyi of subjectivism, such criticisms miss the mark. For Polanyi, the fact of the subjective, personal dimension of knowledge does not entail antirealism or relativism, rather it simply recognizes the seemingly self-evident point that the knowing subject can never be dismissed. As Polanyi points out,

Such is the personal participation of the knowing in all acts of understanding.
But this does not make our understanding subjective. Comprehension is neither an
arbitrary act nor a passive experience, but a responsible act claiming universal
validity. Such knowing is indeed objective in the sense of establishing contact
with a hidden reality; a contact that is defined as the condition for
anticipating an independent range of yet unknown (and perhaps yet inconceivable)
true implications.[3]

Thus, Polanyi’s recognition of the personal and subjective does not entail relativism or antirealism, but rather simply chastens science (and indeed all modes of inquiry that claim objectivity), forcing it to recognize its proper and limited nature. All acts of knowing are inextricably value-laden, theory-laden and must to some extent rely on uncritical assumptions without which no form of understanding would be possible. The modern objectivist ideal of the detached knower is, Polanyi argues, simply a myth.

It goes without saying that no one – scientists included – looks at the universe
this way, whatever lip-service is given to ‘objectivity.’ Nor should this
surprise us. For, as human beings, we must inevitably see the universe from a
centre lying within ourselves and speak about it in terms of a human language
shaped by the exigencies of human intercourse. Any attempt rigorously to
eliminate our human perspective from our picture of the world must lead to
absurdity.[4]

Polanyi goes on to engage in a rigorous examination of the actual practice and nature of science to determine a proper understanding. Science cannot be understood as a disinterested, value-free, objective form of detached reasoning. Rather it always involves the personal commitment of the knower to the object known. Thus, science has an inescapably moral dimension. This is based on the fact that in the end all scientific theorizing is subject to the personal interpretation of the scientist. “Viewed from the outside as we described him the scientist may appear as a mere truth-finding machine steered by intuitive sensitivity. But this view takes not account of the curious fact that he is himself the ultimate judge of what he accepts as true.”[5] Thus, the act of scientific knowing inescapably involves the conscience of the scientist. Therefore there is, “the presence of a moral element in the foundation of science.”[6]

What then, is this moral base that undergirds the practice of science and the scientific community’s adherence to scientific ideals? At this point, a proper understanding of tradition and community become indispensable for understanding the nature of science, as Polanyi argues. As Alasdair MacIntyre has demonstrated at great length, it is virtually irrefutable that communities and traditions are the carriers of ethics and rationality.[7] Polanyi would heartily approve this recommendation. The moral and rational basis for scientific reasoning is founded ultimately in the scientific community, the members of which are bound by a common tradition.[8] The fact of the role of community and tradition in the nature and practice of science is made explicitly clear in Polanyi’s work. No one is born a scientist. Rather, one becomes a scientist through a process of training in which the student submits uncritically and trustingly to the tutelage of the teacher. “The naturalistic view held by scientists and other modern men to-day has its origin in their primary education.”[9] Polanyi goes on to argue that,

this training can be supplemented by precept, but the imitative practice must
always remain its main principle. The same is true of the process by which the
elements of the higher arts are assimilated. Painting, music, etc., can be
learned, only by practice, guided by intelligent imagination. And this applies
to the art of scientific discovery.[10]

Thus, Polanyi argues, the practice and survival of science depends on the scientific community and students who can be persuaded to enter into that community, apprenticing themselves to scientific practitioners so as to learn the doctrines and practice of the scientific tradition. In a very real sense, then the continued existence of science is predicated on s
tudents of science who do not commit themselves to thinking ‘objectively.’ The students of science must simply submit to the process of indoctrination in scientific doctrine and practice in faith that their teachers are not deceiving them. If they were to ‘question everything’ as the objective knower must, then no learning could actually take place and the scientific tradition would cease to exist.

Therefore, science must be understood in the Augustinian sense of “faith in search of understanding.”[11] Moreover, it is not simply the students of science that must participate in the scientific tradition on the basis of faith, but all scientists. The continuation of science is predicated upon the scientific community’s continued assent of faith to unproven and unprovable assumptions about the nature of reality that legitimate the scientific agenda. As Polanyi states,

It would thus appear that when the premisses [sic] of science are held in common
by the scientific community each must subscribe to them by an act of devotion.
These premisses [sic] from not merely a guide to intuition, but also a guide to
conscience; they are not merely indicative, but also normative. The tradition of
science, it would seem, must be upheld as an unconditional demand if it is to be
upheld at all. It can be made use of by scientists only if they place themselves
at its service. It is a spiritual reality which stands over them and compels
their allegiance.[12]

Polanyi elsewhere argues,

We must now recognize belief once more as the source of all knowledge. Tacit
assent and intellectual passions, the sharing of an idiom and of a cultural
heritage, affiliation to a like-minded community: such are the impulses which
shape our vision of the nature of things on which we rely for our mastery of
things. No intelligence, however critical or original, can operate outside such
a fiduciary framework.[13]

Thus, science is not in fact an objective, value-free discipline, but is rather a tradition embodied in a community that is bound by a common faith in certain doctrines and ideals. The propagation of science is dependent on the conversion of persons to the scientific tradition of the basis of its attractiveness as a means of understanding and interpreting the world. Such a conversion to the scientific tradition is strikingly similar to the reception of a person into the Christian community. Polanyi describes the process of conversion to science (which he calls “emotional and moral surrender”[14]) in terms that are strikingly similar to Christian discipleship.

The first approach of the youthful mind to science is prompted by a love of science and a faith in its great significance which precedes any real understanding of it. This primary surrender to the intellectual authority of science is indispensable to any serious effort of assimilating science. As a next step the youth aspiring to become a scientist will have to accept the examples of great scientists, some living and many dead, and seek to derive from it an inspiration for his own future career. In many cases he will join a master and give him freely his admiration and trust.[15]

This understanding of conversion to science bear a striking resemblance to Christian discipleship in which the convert is drawn to Christianity through a love of God and Christ having great faith in their reality, prior to an in-depth understanding of those concepts. Moreover, the idea of exemplars to guide the new convert is certainly a very Christian idea, with its emphasis on the examples of the saints (Heb. 11). And of course the seeking out of a master in the faith to guide the new convert is also a distinct component of Christian discipleship.[16]

Moreover, ecclesial language seems to pervade Polanyi’s articulation of the nature of science. Science must ultimately be seen as a tradition embodied in a community of committed practitioners bound by a common faith. The scientific tradition is, on Polanyi’s reading inescapably ecclesial in nature. This should give us pause when we begin to examine how theology should engage science. If science and scientific inquiry is best understood, not as an objective disinterested discipline undertaken by enlightened individuals, but rather the commitment of a particular community to a specific faith and practice, then the form of dialogue between theology and science should look much different that the standard evangelical responses to science which have simply sought to make theology and science amenable bedfellows. Given the moral, fiduciary, ecclesial and ultimately spiritual and religious elements of the nature and practice of science, I would propose that dialogue between theology and science should be seen and practiced in much the same way as inter-traditional dialogue rather than inter-disciplinary dialogue. This distinction will prove crucial later. The common assumption in regard to the question of ‘science and theology’ has been that the nature of the relationship is one between different abstract, disembodied disciplines, rather than between different embodied traditions.[17]

The implications of this proposal are many, but prior to spelling out such implications, it is necessary to further deconstruct the modern objectivist conception of science. Polanyi’s work has gone a long way toward refuting the notion that science is a disinterested, objective application of the scientific method. However, another central element to the modernist conception of science is that science is the continual, gradual accumulation of data through the implementation of scientific methodology. This idea of gradual scientific progress is another key element of the modernist conception of science that needs to be deconstructed prior to articulating a proper theological perspective on science. Thomas Kuhn’s groundbreaking work on the nature of scientific revolutions offers extensive resources toward just such a construction of a proper understanding of the scientific tradition. It is his work that will occupy us in the next section.

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[1]For a brief introduction to Polanyi, see David K. Naugle, Worldview: The History of a Concept (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 188ff.

[2] See Michael Polanyi, Personal Knowledge: Towards a Post-Critical Philosophy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958), vii-viii, 3-6.

[3] Polanyi, Personal Knowledge, vii-viii.

[4] Polanyi, Personal Knowledge, 3.

[5] Polanyi, Science, Faith and Society (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1946), 38.

[6] Polanyi, Science, Faith and Society, 41.

[7] See MacIntyre, After Virtue, 218-225. In many ways the theological analogue of MacIntyre has been Stanley Hauerwas.

[8] See Polanyi, Science, Faith and Society, 52.

[9] Polanyi, Science, Faith and Society, 42.

[10] Polanyi, Science, Faith and Society, 43.

[11] See Polanyi, Science, Faith and Society, 45; Personal Knowledge, 264-268.

[12] Polanyi, Science, Faith and Society, 54.

[13] Polanyi, Personal Knowledge, 266.

[14] Polanyi, Science, Faith and Society, 55.

[15] Polanyi, Science, Faith and Society, 55.

[16] For such an account of discipleship, see Stanley Hauerwas, After Christendom?: How the Church is to Behave if Freedom, Justice and a Christian Nation are Bad Ideas (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1991), 93-111.

[17] See for example J. Wentzel van Huyssteen, The Shaping of Rationality: Toward Interdisciplinarity in Theology and Science (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999). Notwithstanding a many helpful observations, van Huyssteen consistently assumes that ‘theology’ and ‘science’ designate disciplines which must be harmonized rather than different socially embodied traditions that may or may not be entirely commensurate with one another. Van Huyssteen rightly notes that science should not occupy a place of epistemic privilege in relation to theology, but he does not adequately account for the embodied character of both the scientific and Christian traditions.

Theology and Science in the Postmodern World: The Love Affair of Evangelicalism and Modern Science

II. Outdoing the Scientists: The Love Affair of Evangelicalism and Modern Science

Theology and science in the modern world have not seemingly had a happy coexistence. Issues of ‘creation v. evolution’ have cast the relationship between evangelicalism and science into a light that seems clearly to be one of contention. Thus, it seems hardly appropriate to claim that the evangelical relationship with modern science has been a “love affair.”[1] Nevertheless, I contend that, despite the different conclusions regarding the origin of the universe, evangelical theology has enthusiastically adopted the same canons of scientific reasoning that their Darwinist opponents claim. To that end a brief overview and evaluation of some of the most nuanced theological approaches to relating theology and science is needed.

1. The (Evangelical) Modernist Critique of Darwinian Science

The fundamental response of Christian theology in its more conservative circles has been to show that modern science – particularly in its Darwinist expression – is not true science at all. Rather, scientific naturalism and evolutionary theory is simply unsound and illogical science and as such should be rejected simply on scientific grounds prior to even bringing theological or biblical issues into the debate. One of the foremost proponents of such a view is Phillip E. Johnson. Johnson’s works are many, but all feature the same themes.[2] Johnson argues consistently that Darwinism is simply unsound science. Johnson argues throughout that Darwinian theories are beset with logical fallacies, dogmatic biases, inconsistencies and a profound lack of empirical evidence.

Much of Johnson’s approach is appreciable. He viciously applies scientific and logical reasoning to Darwinian orthodoxy and shows many of the inconsistencies and difficulties with evolutionary theory. It is not my intention to berate or completely dismiss Johnson’s critique of Darwinism, however, there are certain pressing flaws in his argument that should be noted. The first is that he completely brackets out theological or biblical considerations. He seeks to “distinguish the evidence itself from any religious or philosophical bias that might distort our interpretation of that evidence.”[3] But in so doing, Johnson simply accepts the canons of the scientific tradition without question. We see here nothing more than a philosophic theistic account of modern science that holds unquestionably to the naïve realism that has characterized the scientific tradition since the Enlightenment. Johnson’s belief that he can rise above his “religious or philosophical bias” and objectively arbitrate between competing scientific claims is one that should certainly be viewed with skepticism by the responsible theologian. That a person can simply by an act of will transcend their theological and philosophical presuppositions is a claim that has been amply demolished by the postmodern critique (and in truth, it was demolished long before that by the Apostle Paul in Romans 1). Such an assumption of a God’s eye perspective on reality is naïve and question-begging.[4]

Despite Johnson’s adept use of logic and the scientific tradition to question Darwinism, he does not offer a properly theological way forward. While Johnson does point out some of the problems with evolutionary theory, he by no means goes to the root of the problem, but is merely content to prune off the branches. (Of course there is the pressing question of whether Johnson’s critique can really hold water, which I leave aside in this treatment.) This problem is shared by the recent ‘intelligent design’ movement, which is in many ways Johnson’s project come of age. This movement likewise merits analysis.

2. ‘Intelligent Design’ and Bridge Building

Intelligent design (hereafter ID) is a movement that is somewhat in vogue in certain scientific and theological circles today. Mathematician and theologian, William Dembski has been central in promoting and popularizing this perspective in evangelical circles.[5] It shares with Johnson’s project the rejection of Darwinian evolutionary theory.[6] The key difference lies in its desire to ‘bridge the gap’ between theology and science through the use of the ‘design inference,’ namely that the inherent designed-ness of the world is “empirically detectable.”[7] ID posits itself as a “scientific research program that investigates the effects of intelligent causes.”[8] Through scientific observation of the world (the effect), proponents claim that they can logically infer the existence of God (the cause). As such ID posits itself as “the bridge between science and theology.”[9]

It is this bridge-building metaphor to which I would like to call attention. In Dembski’s view science and theology operate as “two different windows on reality.”
[10] Thus, theology and science offer mutual support for one another if they are done properly. Theology’s claims will not contradict science and science’s claims will not contradict theology. They form complementary perspectives that mutually enforce and illumine one another. To the extent that science is truly done in a proper scientific manner, science and theology will be “bridged” and there is the potential of convergence and illuminating dialogue between the two disciplines.

There are many shortcomings of such an approach of “bridge-building” as Dembski tries to establish it. As with Johnson’s “scientific” critique of Darwinism, ID does not step back to question the very presuppositions that undergird the modern understanding of science in the first place. Dembski’s characterization of theology and science as “two different windows on reality” does not seriously reckon with the questions of epistemology that are quite pressing in light of the postmodern critique. Dembski, like Johnson continues to assume the ability of science to give direct insight into the nature of reality through empirical observation. However, this presupposition is never examined or de
fended.[11] It seems hard to see how this perspective can sustain itself epistemologically unless one holds to a naïve realism in which the content of reality is immediately accessible to the human mind. This position is incredibly problematic in light of the postmodern recognition of the situatedness and intersubjectivity of all knowledge,[12] and the theological recognition of the noetic effects of sin on human cognitive functioning.[13]

Moreover, the entire intelligent design project is based on investigating “the effects of intelligent causes.” However, this is very problematic epistemologically. Cause and effect cannot be empirically proven, it can be inferred, but only on the basis of a fiduciary committment. Moreover, such an understanding of the world solely based on a concept of causality is more Aristotelian and Newtonian than Einstienian, though that avenue of critique cannot be persued here. Dembski’s argument for ID as a bridge falters on numerous points, but most centrally because of its theological bankruptcy. It seems hard to believe, then that ID can do the work that its proponents want it to do. Even if proponents of ID are able to convincingly infer the existence of an intelligent designer from an empirical investigation of the world, there is no reason to assume that theology and science have been effectively bridged, let alone Christianity and science. Or most importantly,that the indelligent designer will have any connection to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

ID, then seems deficient in its epistemological and scientific underpinnings as a means of relating theology and science. Its failure to reckon with the postmodern critique of objectivity, the noetic effects of sin and its uncritical adoption of modern understandings of science put it in a distinctly poor position to serve as a means of bringing theology and science into dialogue. However, perhaps the most glaring weakness of both Johnson’s proposal and the more sophisticated forms of intelligent design lies in their failure to question, or even chasten the viability of science as a reliable source of knowledge. All such approaches simply assume the autonomy of science as a viable, objective and rational way of gaining accurate knowledge about reality.

Perhaps even more problematic is the theological bankruptcy of such approaches. Even if they are able to dismantle Darwinian evolutionary theory and establish beyond any reasonable doubt the existence of an intelligent designer, none of these approaches can establish that this creator is the Triune God of the Bible. They start where modernism starts, with the autonomous individual, and they end where modernism ends, in a shallow and ultimately presumptuous and overconfident view of humanity’s ability to know and master nature.[14]

Considerations such as these show forth the importance of finding another paradigm for relating theology and science. Rather than the standard approaches that simply seek to prune off aspects of modern science – normally its conclusions rather than its methodology – a theological approach that seeks to go to the root of the problem of modern science is needed. Rather than simply granting the scientific tradition autonomy and writing it a blank check on what can be considered epistemologically viable, instead theology must engage more foundational questions abut the nature of science and scientific reasoning and engage in proper theological evaluations of the presuppositions of modernist conceptions of science. To that task, I turn now. Such an undertaking will require the construction of a new paradigm for understanding science and theology and the nature of their relationship. In light of the preceding criticisms of other approaches, the one articulated here will attempt to be distinctly theological and wary of the common tendency of evangelicalism to simply seek to accommodate the scientific tradition on its own terms.

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[1] On this point see George M. Marsden, Understanding Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 122-152.

[2] For his paradigmatic treatment of this issue, see Phillip E. Johnson, Darwin on Trial (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1993).

[3] Johnson, Darwin on Trial, 14.

[4] On this point see Phillip D. Kenneson, “There’s No Such Thing as Objective Truth, and It’s a Good Thing Too,” in Phillips and Okholm, eds., Christian Apologetics in the Postmodern World, 156-170.

[5] See for example, William Dembski and James Kushiner, eds., Signs of Intelligence: Understanding Intelligent Design (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2001).

[6] In fact, Johnson has jumped fully onto the ID bandwagon. See

[7] Dembski, Intelligent Design, 105-109.

[8] Dembski, Intelligent Design, 13.

[9] The subtitle of Dembski’s book.

[10] Dembski, Intelligent Design, 187.

[11] Indeed, Dembski never engages postmodern criticisms in any significant way throughout his book. His mentions of postmodernism typically consist of mere assertions that postmo
dernity has not really had any major impact. He touts ID as being “premodern” (Intelligent Design, 44-48), but that way of putting the matter is anachronistic and overlooks the radical dependence of the ID project on forms of scientific reasoning that are distinctly modernistic. Despite such claims, there seems to be no way for Dembski to persuasively deny that his use of mathematics and information theory is dependent on Enlightenment forms of scientific reasoning and epistemology.

[12] On the issue of the “interpretedness” of all forms of human activity and knowing, see James K.A. Smith, The Fall of Interpretation: Philosophical Foundations of a Creational Hermeneutic (Downers Grover: InterVarsity Press, 2000).

[13] On the issue of the noetic effects of sin, see Alvin Plantinga, Warranted Christian Belief (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 199-240.

[14] See Middleton and. Walsh, Truth is Stranger than it Used to Be, 20-27.

Moltmann on America and Apocalypse

“Politically, humanity cannot afford more than ‘one America’, and the same can be said ecologically of the earth. If the whole world were ‘America’, the whole world would already have been destroyed. If all human beings were to drive as many cars as Germans and Americans, and drive them as much, the atmosphere would already be mortally poisoned. The American millenium can be the downfall of the world. There is awareness of this ambiguity in America, inasmuch as ‘the American nightmare’ (Malcolm X) is following hard on the heels of the American dream, and American messianism is closely pursued by American apocalyptic.”

 

Jurgen Moltmann, The Coming of God: Christian Eschatology (Minneapoolis: Fortress, 1996), 177.

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