Dickens' "Carol Philosophy"

But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas
time, when it has come round -- apart from the
veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything
belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a
good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant
time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar
of the year, when men and women seem by one consent
to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think
of people below them as if they really were
fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race
of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore,
uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or
silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me
good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!

This is what Dickens referred to as the "Carol Philosophy" and we would do well to adhere to it. Dickens was often written off as overly sentimental and A Christmas Carol may seem to some a perfect example of this. Even many Christians may be inclined to consider the 'Carol Philosophy' an overly 'bourgeois' conception, failing to address the deep horror of sin in the world and thus failing to recognise the immensity of its "sacred origin": a God descending into the midst of the world in order to be crucified for our sins. Perhaps Dickens' optimism clouds this from view, perhaps A Christmas Carol is simply a 'feel-good' story that warms our hearts without us having to stare too deeply into the misery of the world and realise the radical social changes necessary to bring about greater justice.

Yet such thoughts would be, in my view, mistaken. Of course, the vast scale of poverty on earth requires more than just almsgiving and charitable interventions at Christmas time. But if we focus only on grand-scale achievements it is all too easy to neglect the possibilities we have to exercise charity in the here and now, in our very own spheres of life.

A Christmas Carol is not a mere 'feel-good' narrative at all. It mirrors the Christian belief that for man to be redeemed, a supernatural intervention is necessary. No less than the visitation of the three spirits could redeem Scrooge. Without the spirits it would be inconceivable that Scrooge should undergo the massive change of heart which occurs at the end of the story. A man like Scrooge, who has cut himself off from fellowship with humankind and hardened his heart against joy needs a tremendous 'jolt'. And this is precisely what Christianity proclaims: metanoia, a complete turning of one's whole being, is possible only through grace.

To close oneself off from the source of all love and joy is to condemn oneself to the hellish misery of those spirits who find themselves condemned to walk abroad in death as they failed to do in life."It is required of every man," the ghost returned, "that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and, if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death". The agony they endure as in the afterlife is a direct consequence of their failures to be charitable towards their fellow man in this life: "the misery with them all was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters, and had lost the power for ever." This is a stark warning for us all not to waste our opportunities in the here and now to truly love our neighbour. This does not mean we need to embark on grandiose plans to 'save the world'. As Dickens puts it through the medium of Jacob Marley: "any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness."

So we would all do well to heed the message that A Christmas Carol imparts. And, in whatever sphere of life we find ourselves in, to endeavour to be kind and charitable to our neighbours - our friends, family, workmates, all those we encounter in our daily lives - and know that even should we do this for the rest of our lives, it would still not exhaust our capacity for good. Let us then "honour Christmas in [our] hearts, and try to keep it all the year."

Merry Christmas.

Aquinas' Mariology (2)

From the earlier post looking at Aquinas’ and the popular view of Mary, significant differences will already have been noticed. Indeed one can sense Aquinas’ impatience with the popular views prevailing during his time in certain of his words. One such example can be found in Aquinas’ discussion of whether Mary was cleansed completely from the ‘inflammation of sin’ (she was not says Aquinas, though its effects were rendered harmless), when he remarks: “We can, then, ascribe to the blessed Virgin perfect virtue and grace’s full intensity without having to claim for her every occasion of perfect virtue.”(S.T. 3a, 27, q.3) Aquinas keeps the scriptural accounts of Mary always in view, and all the grace given to her is always given to her in such a way that its use is always “consonant with her way of life.” (S.T. 3a, 27, q.5) Thus Aquinas is clearly not representative of the popular view which would attribute to Mary every possible “occasion of perfect virtue” such as describing her as full of Biblical knowledge and so forth, in fact regarding this point, Aquinas expressly states that she did not have the use of wisdom as regards teaching for this did not befit her female sex (!). (S.T. 3a, 27, q. 5) Aquinas' 'sexism' (in scare quotes because it's a bit of an anachronism) notwithstanding, the principle feature of his Mariology is that he does not wish to attribute anything to Mary which would not accord with her own admission that she is but a “lowly handmaid” of the Lord.

A reply given to a certain Friar Gerard when asked whether it was true that the Blessed Virgin repeated the words “a sword will pierce my heart” is characteristic of Aquinas’ attitude to what he saw as the excessive Marian devotion of his time: “In my opinion such frivolities ought not to be preached, seeing there are so many subjects for preaching that are absolutely true.” (quoted in H. Graef, 'Mary: A History of Doctrine and Devotion') Aquinas follows his teacher St. Albert the Great whose Mariology represented the authentic tradition and who maintained the close link between Mariology and Christology: “the cause of her veneration, of her glorification, is not her own person, but Christ.” (quoted in Graef) In this Aquinas differs greatly from the popular view which increasingly developed an emphasis on Mary as an individual with no attention paid to either her union with Christ or with the Church. On the other hand, whilst Aquinas’ Mariology clearly differed significantly from the popular view there are certain points of contact between them. His Mariology may have been far more restrained but he certainly had a strong devotion to her. He had no problem placing her above the angels and would surely have been happy to call her the ‘Queen of Angels’ and ‘Mother of Mercy’. She was ‘in some way’ Mediatrix of all graces and one could profitably pray to her to intercede on one’s behalf.

Having surveyed both Aquinas’ Mariology and the popular view, typical in his time and perhaps paralleling the excesses of Marian devotion that Protestants so fear, it is clear that Aquinas cannot be said to be a representative of the latter. He did not share the popular enthusiasm for the various myths and legends associated with the person of Mary and he was theologically far more reticent about Mary’s role in salvation, always wishing to maintain the union with Christ that gave Mary her significance. The popular view on the other hand concentrated more and more on Mary as an individual in her own right, to the extent that she appeared at times to take on a role of equivalent value to that of Jesus Christ. It might not be going to far to say that had Aquinas’ more sober approach been able to better infiltrate the popular mindset, the Reformers’ backlash against what they saw as the excessive and unbiblical attention given to Mary may not have been so great, and may not have caused them to abandon Mariology altogether as they eventually occurred in the Protestant tradition (Luther at least, had quite a 'high' Mariology). Aquinas’ entire attitude towards Mariology is encapsulated perfectly in his closing sentence from his lecture in Naples: “So therefore is the Virgin blessed, but far more blessed is the fruit of her womb.” (Exposition of the Angelic Salutation)

A Sober Mariology: Thomas' view of Mary (1)

Medieval man’s attitude towards Mary was one of great devotion, she was seen as the ‘Mother of Mercy’ and mediator between them and Christ. It was felt that they could unreservedly commend themselves to her as their advocate. This view of Mary as the Mother of Mercy arose in part due to the emphasis on Jesus as judge, who was often portrayed as stern and unyielding in regard to sinners. This notion grew to such an extent that Mary was apparently seen as, having power over the bestowal of divine Mercy itself, as is shown in the 13th century Mappa Mundi in Hereford Cathedral. In fact, Mary was held in such high esteem that she was considered second in dignity only to God himself. With the growth of the Marian cult it is not surprising that various myths should have grown up around her. The rather scant account of her one can find in the canonical gospels was supplemented by various other stories which were taken from such works as the Book of James.

One can find far fuller accounts of her life in works such as The Golden Legend by Jacobus de Voragine. These accounts present Mary’s life in such a way as to parallel certain gospel narratives. This can be seen in the account given of Mary’s parents Anne and Joachim. Joachim receives an ‘annunciation’ of his own with an Angel telling him that his wife shall bear a child and that “she will be consecrated to the Lord from infancy and filled with the Holy Spirit from her mother’s womb.” Popular belief in Mary’s Immaculate Conception was unequivocal. Some theologians such as Aquinas rejected it, as had others including St. Anselm and even St. Bernard of Clairvaux who was otherwise renowned for his Marian devotion. Thus a popular legend arose sometime after the death of Bernard of Clairvaux that after his death there appeared upon him a black mark and it was widely believed that he was in Purgatory for having, in this case, spoken ill of the Virgin Mary. There are also tales of Mary’s childhood which of course does not feature at all in the New Testament: at the age of three she was presented at the temple and was able to mount “to the top without help from anyone, as if she were already fully grown up” and thereafter remained at the temple and had daily divine visions and visitations from angels. Mary had every possible perfection attributed her, despite there being no scriptural warrant for the myths that grew around her. During her life too, Mary excelled in every way and was even considered a great teacher of wisdom, proficient in knowledge of the Bible.

As well as the various stories about her life, there were also myriad stories about miracles that had been worked by the Blessed Virgin which fit in with the popular view of her as the ultimate intercessor. One such tale is that of a thief who had a deep devotion to the Blessed Mary and was miraculously kept from execution by the Virgin, after having being caught red-handed. Upon being released he is said to have entered a monastery and lived out his life in service to her. It is not surprising that such a tale would evoke a great sense of trust in Mary as Intercessor, seeing as she goes to the aid even of criminals who show devotion to her. In these folktales and miracle stories, however, it can be seen that Mary “undeniably usurps the unique privileges of Christ.” (Maria Warner, Alone of All Her Sex). These tales about Mary infiltrated the popular imagination, in particular through the medium of art, the visual image being readily accessible to all people regardless of education. The Scrovegni Chapel in Padua, Italy features various frescos by Giotto which detail the story of Mary and her infancy as elaborated in The Golden Legend.

This sort of hyper-mariology is of course one which many protestants tend to attribute to Catholics. Of course, nowadays, Marian devotion has decreased a great deal, but it isn't difficult to find protestant polemics which focus on such excesses and it must be said that it is probable that some Catholics do in fact tend towards superstition when it comes to Mary.

In this sense then, it is fruitful to look at Thomas' Mariology as a paradigm for Catholic views on the Mother of God: one which is always christocentric.

Aquinas’ Mariology is planted firmly within the context of his Christology - there is no separate section devoted exclusively to Mary – and is to be found in the Tertia Pars of the Summa. This in itself is a significant factor which points the way to an understanding of his entire Mariological outlook. Aquinas’ treatment of the theological importance of Mary cannot be divorced from his Christology – Mary is never spoken of other than in terms of what relation such and such a doctrine about her has to Christ. His Mariology is also based firmly on the accounts of Mary given by the Evangelists, and the opinion of Church Fathers, he does not look to apocryphal accounts of Mary in order to supplement his work.

Perhaps the best known aspect of Aquinas’ Mariology is his rejection of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. It was a much debated issue during the thirteenth century as it was not yet a dogmatically defined article of faith for Catholic believers. It was of course dogmatically defined in 1854 by Pope Pius IX. Aquinas rejects the doctrine that Mary was sanctified from the very moment of her conception and was instead sanctified whilst still in the womb (S.T. 3a, 27, 1) Now, at first sight it may seem that it matters little whether she was sanctified from the moment of conception or whether this took place a short time after, and indeed the controversy of the time was sometimes characterised as a 'controversy about a few moments' (Karl Rahner). The issue at stake, however, was indeed one of importance. Aquinas’ difficulty lay in his inability to see how if Mary was indeed sanctified from the moment of conception, she could still be said to have been redeemed by Christ. If she had never been subject to original sin, she could not be said to have been liberated from it. This, Aquinas felt, would “derogate from the dignity of Christ” who is the universal Saviour. (S.T. 3a, 27, 3) Likewise in his discussion over whether Mary was completely cleansed from the ‘inflammation of sin’ he objects on the grounds that whilst this assertion may seem to be part of the dignity of Mary it is somewhat demeaning to Christ, for only he can be declared to be completely free from sin. (He does state, however, that whilst it was not wholly removed, it was rendered harmless.)(S.T. 3a, 27, 3)

Whilst Aquinas was unable to see how Mary, despite being immaculately conceived, could still be said to have been redeemed (It was the Franciscan John Duns Scotus who championed the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, arguing that the Blessed Virgin Mary was indeed redeemed by Christ and in fact could be said to have been the person most radically redeemed of all for to prevent someone from falling is better than to pick them up once they have fallen), he nevertheless asserted without hesitation that the Blessed Virgin committed no actual sin whether mortal or venial. Aquinas also states that she received a greater fullness of grace than all others and also argues that Mary was Mediatrix of all graces insofar as “by giving birth to him she brought, in a certain way, grace to all.” (S.T. 3a, 27, 5) In this minimal sense, I don't think many could have serious problems with the notion of Mary as mediatrix of grace.

Aquinas’ Exposition of the Angelic Salutation (Ave Maria), a Lenten Sermon probably dating from 1273, also helps illuminate our understanding of his Mariology. Aquinas states that the Angel’s salutation reveals her to exceed even the angels in fullness of grace, purity and familiarity with God. Mary is also said to be above all other saints for “she performed the works of all virtues whereas the saints exhibit particular ones.” Aquinas’ discussion of Mary’s virginity also reflects his Christological concerns and one of his principle arguments for Mary’s virginity is that it is fitting that Christ should be born of a virgin. He holds that Mary was a virgin when she conceived Christ and also in partu (during the actual birth of Christ) and this is because it was appropriate that it should be so when one considers whose birth is in question, and because to lose her virginity would lessen the honour due to the Mother of God. Mary is also held to have remained a virgin throughout the rest of her life.

The whole discussion concerning Mary’s virginity shows clearly Aquinas’ concern to place Mary within a Christological context, that she was a virgin throughout her life has more to do with her being the Mother of God than with any considerations about her own person and any ‘honour’ due to her, although this too is taken into account. Aquinas states that it was fitting that Mary should have been espoused and that she truly was married against those who would claim otherwise. His final section on Mariology concerns the Annunciation to the Blessed Virgin, wherein he tells us that the Annunciation was made to inform Mary so that her free consent “which was petitioned during the course of the announcement” should stand “for the consent of all men.” (S.T, 3a, 30, 1) Mary is seen here as acting on behalf of the whole of mankind, not acting in her own right, so to speak. Aquinas can be seen to hold a ‘high’ view of the Blessed Virgin Mary, but it remains strictly within Biblical bounds and he makes sure always to subject her to Christ, who is the Universal Redeemer.

New Encyclical

Spe Salvi

Pope Benedict XVI's new Encyclical has been released. A quick skimming reveals references to Aquinas, de Lubac, Adorno and Horkheimer, Kant and Marx.

Historical Jesus and Theology (3)

To finish up this series of posts on the quest for the Historical Jesus and its relation to theology I'd like to point to another argument in favour of the position which holds that the quest is essential is the danger of ideological appropriation of Jesus. If theology ignores the historical Jesus it leaves the path open to the ‘hijacking’ of the Jesus of history for propagandist reasons as occurred with the ‘German Christians’ in the Nazi era who denied that Jesus was a Jew and presented him as an Aryan. In the face of such a perverted ‘kerygma’ of a group’s own making is it not of the utmost irresponsibility of theology to ignore the vital question of the historical Jesus? From the perspective of Fundamental theology (apologetics) it therefore becomes of paramount necessity to demonstrate that the kerygmatic Christ is not divorced from the earthly Jesus but that there exists a fundamental thread linking the two. Further theological reasons for maintaining the essential nature of the quest for theology is the understanding of ‘faith’ itself. For faith is not merely an assent to various propositions but is first and foremost a question of trust and trust needs to be directed towards another person not a mere proclamation. The quest is therefore essential in order to enable theology to build up a picture of the Jesus in whom people believe, historical study can contribute to the “faith-image” believers have of Jesus, as Norman Perrin expresses it. It also allows for a constant critical self examination by the Christian churches to ensure that their comfortable Christian domestications of Jesus are challenged by disclosing the historical Jesus’ nonconformist aspects. (John Meier) Study of the historical Jesus can thus be seen as an essential corrective to a theology which might otherwise lose sight of the fact that Jesus was a particular human being in history. The argument that questing for the historical Jesus eliminates the risk of faith must also be seriously questioned, it is not the case that Jesus’ disciples were exempt from having to take a risk of faith: there was a decision to be made as regards Jesus even then and just as there were some who accepted him, there were others who rejected him. It is also to be pointed out that Bultmann’s position is to a large extent a result of his Lutheran perspective (i.e., an aversion to anything that might seem like “righteousness from works” rather than faith alone), and one filtered through existentialism at that. A final reason to regard the quest for the historical Jesus as essential to Christian theology is that provided by Joachim Jeremias, who is on the opposite end of the spectrum to Bultmann and who could be regarded as holding a somewhat ‘extreme’ position. Jeremias argues that Christian theology takes its impetus primarily from the words of the earthly Jesus himself, and that these words are the basis of the Kerygma. The quest is therefore seen as absolutely essential to Christian theology for it could not really exist without it.

The quest can thus be seen as an important and necessary to Christian theology. It is not however, the basis from which to build theology and faith cannot be made dependent on historical research as Jeremias’ position might seem to suggest. Neither could the theological enterprise truly flourish it were made constantly to refer back to what exegetes are now saying about Jesus of Nazareth. Theology is fides quaerens intellectum, ‘faith seeking understanding’, the quest is a ‘secondary’ consideration for the theologian for whom the faith of the church must remain the principle starting point, as it is found already in the New Testament and in the creeds of the church. I would suggest that the best way for theology to regard the quest is as an aspect of apologetics. A theologian cannot be expected to undertake a task as great as a reconstruction of the historical Jesus as a sort of prolegomena to his theology. It is enough that two aspects of Jesus are regarded as pertaining to the earthly Jesus himself: that he regarded himself not simply as one amongst a long line of prophets but as the eschatological prophet and that the resurrection of Jesus can be shown to be historically credible. Whilst this notion of carrying out research for the historical Jesus will obviously be regarded by some as simply an attempt to legitimize Christian faith and thus be compromised by being in a certain sense ‘predetermined’, one can answer that claims to complete objectivity in scholarship are somewhat spurious and unattainable, as Crossan himself remarks and that much of the work of those who ‘discover’ a Jesus not particularly amenable to Christian theology is often compromised by the adoption of a post-Enlightenment worldview. The complaints, for example, that the work of someone like N.T. Wright simply present a ‘biblical Christ’ reveal a great deal about those critics, for such a complaint could come about only from those who set out with the presupposition that the historical Jesus simply could not be the biblical Christ. This also really begs the question whether a Christian theology can from the outset even regard the separation between ‘Christ of faith’ and ‘Jesus of history’ as legitimate. Of course one must then consider the importance at the very least of engaging in an attempt to prove the historicity of the gospels. The issue cannot simply be dismissed and theology cannot insist on the historical validity of the gospel accounts of Jesus without answering those who claim to be discovering a historical Jesus quite different from that proclaimed by Christian faith. This bears certain parallels to the debate over the relationship between theology and philosophy. Whilst one can take a ‘Barthian’ approach and insist on the self-sufficiency of theology and present it in an almost positivist way, the Christian tradition has for the most part acknowledged the need to dialogue with the ‘secular’ world in a manner which allows for an intellectually respectable expression of the Christian message, and which is thus capable of engaging with those ‘outside’. The fact that groups such as the Jesus Seminar have their findings entering the mainstream through the media requires that theology undertake historical research of its own, lest it leave the field entirely open to those who are finding a Jesus who has little affinity which that preached by faith.

In conclusion the Quest can be said to be essential to Christian theology but primarily as a minimalist task. It is enough for Christian theology to demonstrate that between the historical Jesus and later Christology there is a fundamental link which ensures that one does not think of theology as having simply invented a ‘Christ-myth’. A wholesale reconstruction of the historical Jesus by biblical scholars is perfectly legitimate and may prove an aid to theology but is not in and of itself an essential aspect of theology for which the gospel portraits of Jesus must serve as the norm. For it is these portraits which give us Jesus as he was seen through the eyes of faith and which present to theology the Jesus who is the object of Christian faith.

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Free Journal Access

Just a heads up for those who may be interested in reading scholarly theological articles but aren't at University and have no access to online databases, or maybe even those at University who don't have access to Sage Publications: if you sign up now you will have free access to all their journals until the 30th November and can download articles and so forth.

There are some theology journals there such as Studies in Christian Ethics, Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus, Ecclesiology etc.

Might be of interest to some.

http://online.sagepub.com/

The Historical Jesus and Theology (2)

The 'idealist' position denying the quest for the Historical Jesus any theological relevance was adopted by the dialectical theologians of the 20th century such as Karl Barth and Rudolf Bultmann for whom any attempt to ground faith in historical certainty was theologically impermissible on the basis of the Sola Fides of the reformers. There is also the influence of Soren Kierkegaard, the ‘father’ of modern existentialism who stressed the either/or aspect of Christian faith, with the Christian message presenting itself as a challenge demanding existential commitment or rejection, not as an assertion to be historically verified before one made a decision. Bultmann expresses it thus: “The word of preaching confronts us as the word of God. It is not for us to question its credentials [by historical research]. It is we who are questioned.”

From this perspective then, it is theologically unnecessary to inquire into the details of Jesus’ life; moreover it may also be theologically impermissible as doing so would be an attempt to remove the risk of faith in response to the ‘preached Christ’. There is no possibility of absolute certainty, the only historical assertion necessary is that Jesus lived and died on a cross. This position frees theology from the contingent nature of historical research, and allows it to reflect on the Christian proclamation without fearing that its death knell might be pronounced at any moment by historical research: such a faith. as Karl Adam remarks, would be “useless”. A contemporary exponent of this view is Luke T. Johnson who argues in a similar manner to Kahler that the Gospel narratives are written with a focus primarily on Jesus’ death and resurrection. Whilst they are evidently concerned with Jesus’ humanity and aspects of his life and teaching, the emphasis does not lie there. Thus the proper object of theology is the Resurrected Christ as portrayed in the Gospels; for Johnson the quest for the historical Jesus cannot therefore be undertaken with primarily theological motives. The testimony of the Gospels themselves is that the death and Resurrection of Jesus are the normative basis for Christian theology.

This position, however, is one that is open to serious criticism. There are strong reasons to suppose that research into the life of Jesus is not only relevant but essential to Christian theology. One of the principle dangers inherent in denying the historical Jesus any relevance for theology is that theological affirmations become mere mythical assertions. Although one can affirm with Bultmann the independence of theology from historical research, one cannot go to the extreme that Bultmann went to, for if there was no objective historical event which correlates to theology’s assertions there would exist only a mythological idea. Thus even Karl Barth. who shared to a large extent similar convictions to Bultmann, became increasingly concerned at his existential approach to the Resurrection which appeared to suggest that it had no historical foundations and came to emphasise the empty tomb narratives (Barth however, maintained despite this that the resurrection remained closed to historical investigation). It is this apparent collapse into myth if one rejects the role of history in theology which justifies the Quest for theology.

The centrality of the notion of the incarnation to Christian theology is another reason why the Quest must be given attention. Christian faith is “an act of faith in the historical Jesus as the manifestation of God” (Crossan) and thus the words and deeds of the historical cannot be of no interest to theology which believes that the ‘Word was made flesh’ and entered history. This is pointed out by Ernst Kasemann, a student of Bultmann who inaugurated the ‘new quest’ in his 1953 lecture at Marburg. He remarks that even the Gospel of John, which is the most theological of the four and has developed its Christology further than the synoptics in the light of the resurrection faith, is nevertheless concerned with Jesus’ earthly history as the sphere wherein revelation takes place. The Easter experience did not render the experience of the earthly history of Jesus superfluous; it confirmed it. If this were not the case the Christian faith could be charged with creating “the Christ of salvation ‘on the occasion of’ Jesus of Nazareth”. If theology does not wish to become mythological but remain firmly grounded in history as the sphere of God’s revelation it must take account of the historical Jesus: “This inescapable Jesus-centeredness [for theology] is the result of the incarnation: it not only permits but demands historical study.” This concern with the implications of the doctrine of the incarnation for theology’s relationship with history is exemplified in the work of Pannenberg and his insistence on the resurrection of Jesus as an historical fact open to investigation. It is the contention of those theologians who stress the importance of the historical Jesus for theology that any dismissal of the earthly life of Jesus is a lapse into the heresy of docetism, where the Logos only has the appearance of being a human being.

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History and Theology: Is the Historical Jesus essential to Christian Theology?

Historical-critical research on the Gospels has, in the eyes of many, rendered an uncritical acceptance of the Gospel texts as completely historical accounts documenting the words and deeds of Jesus of Nazareth, impossible. It has long been acknowledged that the Gospels (our principle source for information on the historical Jesus) are not objectively neutral accounts of the life of Jesus in the manner one might expect of a modern biography but confessional documents written in the light of the faith of a community which believed Jesus to have risen from the dead after his crucifixion therefore being vindicated and exalted by God. This recognition lead to the distinction being made between the ‘historical Jesus’ and the ‘Christ of faith’. The question Christian faith and theology must face is whether the search for the historical Jesus is in fact of importance, perhaps even essential to theology or whether theology need only be concerned with the Christ of faith. The theological issue lies in the ambiguous nature of historical research which does not produce definitive results; the question is therefore naturally raised about whether these results can serve as the base for theological assertions, or whether theology is essentially independent of historical investigation.

One approach to this problem is to deny the quest for the historical Jesus any theological relevance. This position can take a basically ‘idealist’ form in which the question of the historical Jesus is regarded as irrelevant due to the fact that it is the symbol of Christ as a source of religious and ethical guidance and challenge which is considered of utmost importance. This position is not one which can be adopted by theologians who would wish to classify themselves as essentially Christian. The most common approach which pays little heed to the historical Jesus as a source for theological affirmations is that which affirms the historical Jesus as a presupposition for the kerygma of the Christian community but is not concerned about learning the details of Jesus’ life. This position can be seen as having originated with Martin Kahler, the first great critic of the ‘life of Jesus’ research, in his lecture ‘The So-Called Historical Jesus and the Historic Biblical Christ’. It was Kahler’s contention that “the historical Jesus of modern authors conceals from us the living Christ”. For Christian faith which believed Jesus to be the “unique sinless person” there could be no use of historical analysis which uses analogy to determine its results. Whilst Kahler’s argument was directed against the original ‘liberal’ quest for the historical Jesus and thus may not actually apply to the newer quests which can be viewed as possible and legitimate, he makes extremely pertinent points which must be answered by Christian theology. His concern about how one can come to know Jesus Christ is of great importance: would humanity need recourse to historical-critical methods in order to believe? The point being made is that historical research cannot be normative for faith, or as Kahler expresses it: “I cannot find sure footing in probabilities or in a shifting mass of details the reliability of which is constantly changing”.

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Some More Reflections on Rahner

Recent expositions of his work have called into question the idea that the transcendental philosophy which Rahner adopts is crucial to his theology. The rather ad hoc approach of Rahner to theology has been pointed out; he preferred essays rather than systematic treatises. Even Fergus Kerr, who in an earlier post was referred to as pointed out a basically Cartesian starting point for Rahner has come to Rahner's defence. He does this in the final chapter of his Immortal Longings where he discusses Balthasar's critique of Rahner. According to Kerr, Balthasar is striking out at phantoms so to speak, when he charges Rahner's theology with reducing the particularity of the Christian faith to the mere expression of the human subject's self transcendence. I'm afraid I can't elaborate further on Kerr's analysis as I read the chapter some years ago and no longer have access to the book. I would definitely recommend that anyone interested in a defence of Rahner read this chapter.

Now, it need not be denied that the language in which Rahner expressed his conviction that the human person reaches beyond himself to an answer to which he is the question is not particularly felicitous and there is always the danger that such a theology will be all too anthropocentric. However, is it really all that different to the Augustinian emphasis on man's desire for God? "Thou hast made us unto thyself [ad te], and our heart is restless, until it find rest in thee."

Rahner's own evaluations of his work should also be taken into account. His disavowals of being a 'systematic' theologian and of actually being something of a dilettante should be taken as more than just false humility on his part. In later interviews he also distanced himself from certain aspects of his work and did not like being pigeon-holed into the philosopher-theologian niche based on readings of his early work and called Spirit and Hearers "lopsided works of my youth" (Faith in a Wintry Season). Rahner also became increasingly aware of the plurality of philosophies, the impossibility of one, single unifying philosophy - what he called "gnoseological concupiscence". These evaluations by Rahner of his own work militate against 'foundationalist' readings of Rahner.

I think no clearer statement can be found on the centrality of Jesus Christ for theology than this one by Rahner:

"Christianity's concretissimum for which alone it stands, is Jesus Christ, who in accepting death and suffering for us (and in no other way) has created our relationship of immediacy before God, and the Church, which looks for the Kingdom which is yet to be fulfilled and which is not identical with the humanism we ourselves have produced or shall produce in the near future."

Rahner thus emphatically affirms the capacity for the Christian faith to disrupt and transform as much as he affirms its power to complete and intensify our deepest spiritual longings.

But although grace may disrupt nature but whilst it overturns the creature's expectations it also fulfils their deepest desires. Grace is first and foremost God's self-communication, the gift of himself. This is not something 'alien' to human nature, but humanity's self-fulfilment, the bringing to completion of the human being's desire for God. To reject this is to reject an entire strand of Christian tradition.

For those who feel that Rahner's theology is too 'universal' it is perhaps worth bearing in mind what Rahner says here: "Just because grace is free and unmerited this does not mean that it is rare (theology has been led astray for too long already by the tacit assumption that grace would no longer be grace if God became too free with it)." (Nature and Grace, Dilemmas in the Modern Church)

As for Rahner's much contested Vorgriff auf Esse - the pre-apprehension of being: does not Balthasar require this too? He admits it himself, otherwise the human being would not be able to recognise the coming of beauty. To an extent then, the differences between Rahner and Balthasar are a difference in emphasis.

Given Rahner's views on God's offer of himself as a constitutive element of humanity, it becomes clear that reflection on human experience is not going to provide merely the structures of a 'purely' human nature, but of a human nature already historically engraced and existing in the presence of the divine.

Rahner also introduces the notion of "negative philosophy" by which he meant that all philosophical reflections on human experience are inadequate to the task. This along with his emphasis on the pluralism of philosophies once again undermines the idea that Rahner adopted one particular philosophy to serve as the foundation of his theology. He explicitly rejected this possibility.

Other writers have highlighted the principle source for Rahner's theology: his spirituality. Rahner's work is ultimately rooted in his Ignatian spirituality, with its emphasis on "finding God in all things." I think this emphasis on Rahner's sprituality is salutary. One book on Rahner aptly describes him as a "mystic of everyday life" and this is one of the principle reasons I am drawn to Rahner. He speaks to the situation ordinary men and women find themselves in during the daily struggles and also joys of life. One can read many a brilliant theologian and wonder how on earth all they say relates to their own life. Not so with Rahner. He writes on sleep, on work, on eating. Anyone new to Rahner could do no better than start with his writings on prayer and the spiritual life, for these are the wellspring of his theology, not his early philosophical works.

It is also important to bear in mind the context in which Rahner formulated his ideas about "anonymous Christians". First of all, he was not the first, Barth and de Lubac had already begun considering this. Barth in his assertion that in our dealings with those to whom we are directed to preach the gospel we are not encountering an 'actual' Christian but "certainly a virtual or potential Christian" (!) Balthasar too, would not wish to deny it. The notion of an implicit "baptism of desire" could also be seen as belonging to this tradition. One of the occasions when the idea of an "anonymous Christian" comes up is in an essay entitled "The Christian and Unbelieving Relations" - as one can see just from the title, there is a very practical starting point here; it arises from a specific, concrete situation that many Christians find themselves in and the purpose of the essay is to develop the idea that a Christian need not remain in agonising anxiety as regards the eschatological fate of relations who do not believe. The starting point for all these reflections was, again, NOT his transcendental philosophy, but the Christian doctrine of God's universal salvific will. Rahner recognises this hope for all when he says that all people “including the good Christians, enter silently into the darkness of God, and no mortal eye follows them there on their way, no earthly ear listens to the judgment of their eternity. But this uncertainty can be contained within the hope for all.” (The Christian among Unbelieving Relations, TI 3)

Could this not have come from the pen of Balthasar himself? Consider for example Balthasar's impassioned defence of the possibility of the salvation of all men in Dare we hope? This issue was one of supreme concern for Balthasar. Could the difference between the two lie in the fact that Balthasar sees no need for the development of a formal scheme for how the salvation of non-Christians can take place? Or rather, that he sees the inherent dangers in doing so? (i.e. the possible relativisation of Christianity). But is it not the task for Christian theology to work out these issues in its reflection on the faith? Nostra Aetate perhaps is a pointer: it remained silent on the issue - but is this just a matter of leaving it open to theologians to work it out? Rahner thought so.

Balthasar's theology of Holy Saturday provides powerful hope for the salvation of all men, but I'm worried it remains somewhat 'gnostic' and fails to account for how grace is encountered in this life. Human beings are socio-historical beings, how is grace encountered if not through concrete practices? Thus Rahner's assertion that grace can be encountered in lawful religions and that the religions themselves are the means by which grace becomes available seems necessary. Of course, Rahner never said that all religions were necessarily lawful or that they were not in a gravely deficient situation as opposed to Christianity. He explicitly does argue this and never goes as far as one of his followers such as Jacques Dupuis who calls the religions "paths of salvation" and refuses to accept that they are merely "transitory" as Rahner insisted.

Rahner also addressed the issue of whether his speculations rendered Christianity a mere superfluous and explicit manifestation of what is already there implicity: "Anonymous Christianity does not render explicit Christianity superfluous, but rather itself demands it, and that there would no longer be any anonymous Christianity . . . if he upon whom it is bestowed as offering were radically to close himself to any explicit Christianity" - (Anonymous Christianity and the Missionary Task of the Church, TI 12)

As Rahner put it: a seed has no right to refuse to grow into a plant. One could not choose to remain in the implicit depths of faith once encountered with the explicit offer of Christianity existentially efficacious - to do so would be to reject grace.

Rahner was adamant that Christianity was the one, true valid religion and that "wherever in practice Christianity reaches man in the real urgency and rigour of his actual existence, Christianity - once understood - presents itself as the only still valid religion for this man, a necessary means for salvation." (Christianity and Non-Christian Religions, TI 5)

As regards the charge that the theory of "anonymous Christians" does away with the Church's missionary imperative I'd be inclined to suggest that the theory behind the terminology is in fact helpful in explaining how mission may even be possible! Look, in contrast, at post-liberal theories of "incommensurability": if it is really true that different religions are wholly incommensurable then the missionary has a serious problem in addressing what is going to be a completely alien language to those he wishes to 'win over'. If it is really the case that non-Christians have no experience of the grace which flows from Christ, then any preaching of the Christian message will be falling on deaf ears. They will not be able to understand and they will see no reason why this message relates to them at all.

The terminology is perhaps unfortunate and Rahner did not pretend otherwise. It was never meant to signify that Christianity could ever forego its character of proclamation and witness. Likewise from the perspective that it is a somewhat 'arrogant' or 'imperialistic' appelation: he did not intend it to be used in inter-religious dialogue. That said, I find the criticism that the term is problematic because it is in some way offensive an odd one. It is the consequence of a resolute adherence to the truth that Jesus Christ is the absolute, universal saviour, that all grace flows from him. One cannot really take issue with the principle of the matter without also taking issue with a central truth of the Christian faith.

It is not the case that 'special revelation' is merely one instance of general revelation as has been claimed. For Rahner, 'general revelation' (or transcendental revelation as he puts it) flows from the special revelation in Jesus Christ. This is obviously not a chronological dependence.

There is obviously a tension between the two different visions represented by two theologians such as Rahner and von Balthasar, but I do neet feel that they are wholly incommensurable, and what is needed is not the opting for one over the other, but a means by which to hold the two in balance as two different 'poles' of the same Christian faith. We must definitely not"genuflect before the world" as Jacques Maritain had it. But neither should the relationship between Christianity and 'the world' be construed in too dialectical a fashion. In uniting the two poles, we ought to aim at a Christian humanism, that whilst giving due emphasis to the transformative power of the Christian message, does not thereby cut off all ties with the religious element of humanity as such. The religious strivings of humanity are not simply a "fabrica idolorum" (as Balthasar affirmed).

Considering there are 23 volumes of Rahner's Theological Investigations available in English, which cover countless different topics related to doctrine, ecclesiology, spirituality and various other questions that address themselves to Christians today, the idea that Rahner is somehow 'overrated' and not really worth reading any longer needs to justify itself more fully. Rahner is not best read as the author of a 'system' which must either be accepted or rejected wholesale. Dip into his essays, focus on matters that interest you at any given moment, you are sure to find incisive creative wisdom from the man whom von Balthasar himself considered "to be, on the whole, the strongest theological power of our time."

Charles de Foucauld Quote

"To love anyone is to hope in him for always. From the moment at which we begin to judge anyone, to limit our confidence in him, from the moment at which we identify him with what we know of him and so reduce him to that, we cease to love him and he ceases to be able to be better."

- Charles de Foucauld

The Charge Against Rahner (Part 2): Anonymous Christians?

Man’s implicit knowledge of God is a ‘transcendental revelation’ which remains somewhat shadowy and moves towards an explicit, categorical revelation. This revelation is Jesus Christ. Other religions, however, can be seen as legitimate means of salvation insofar as they have not yet encountered the truth of Christianity in an existentially meaningful way. He states that his view of other religions is analogous to the religion of Israel which was a lawful religion which enabled its faithful adherents to attain salvation. If non-Christians are to be saved then they must be able to receive grace through their religious traditions (for man is a socio-historical being). All this does not relativise Christianity which remains the absolute religion and Jesus Christ the final mediator of grace. For Rahner then, adherents of other religions can be viewed as “anonymous Christians” because they receive grace which ultimately derives from Christ himself even though they remain ignorant of this fact. Rahner is opposed to the approach of “dialectical theology” to the theology of religions which posits a sharp distinction between the revelation of Christianity and the unbelief and humanly constructed character which permeates the other religions. This is so because of his transcendental anthropology wherein all humanity is implicitly seeking God.

One of the major criticisms of Rahner’s “anonymous Christian” is that it seems to do away with the salvific efficacy of Christ’s death on the cross. Karl Rahner asks the question of how Jesus Christ can be said to be present in the lives of non-Christians. He affirms that Christ is present in the lives of these individuals through the presence of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is present through the “merits of Christ.” Here Rahner, however, encounters a problem. He does not wish to assert that Christ’s death in anyway ‘changes the mind of God’ – he appears to have a somewhat crude atonement theory in mind wherein the mind of a capricious God is appeased through the sacrifice of his Son. He wants to steer clear of any such notions and also maintain the basic continuity of the revelation of Christ with general, transcendental revelation – it is simply a fuller revelation of what was already implicit – the historical and dramatic aspect of the Christ-event is downplayed. Thus Rahner posits that rather than being an ‘efficient cause’ of God’s grace (i.e. it actually brings it about), the Cross is to be seen as the ‘final’ cause of God’s grace – the sign of his irrevocable and tangible gift of the Spirit for our salvation. It seems clear that Rahner has abandoned the traditional Christian emphasis on the salvific efficacy of the Cross of Christ of which the New Testament is replete. In so doing he also seems to minimise the tragic aspects of life and the brokenness and sinfulness of our human condition. In a sense his theory can appear overly optimistic – he downplays the extent to which human beings reject God’s offer of Himself for a far more optimistic notion that in confronting adherents of other religions one should approach them as if they were already living a life of grace and so are “anonymous Christians”.

This leads on to a second major criticism of Rahner’s “anonymous Christian” and that is that it appears to render mission somewhat superfluous. If God’s universal salvific will (and this cannot be denied regardless of what position one takes regarding Rahner) means that humanity is already ‘enveloped’ in grace and on the path to salvation – the necessity of preaching the gospel “to the ends of the earth” appears to lose its urgency. As the then Cardinal Ratizinger points out, all individuals now seem to be able to be saved simply by virtue of fully accepting their humanity and the Christian “plus” is merely that he realises he is grasped by God’s love. This seems apparent in the following passage by Rahner: “anyone who courageously accepts life…has really already accepted God.” The particularity of Christianity, the necessity of the Church, the sacramental system and so forth no longer appear absolutely necessary. The explicit proclamation of having heard Jesus’ call and responded to it are of the essence of Christianity and the formation of disciples and preaching the word is absolutely necessary for this to take place. If others are “anonymous Christians”, however, this urgency is lost, for by becoming Christian, people would merely be moving into the realm of the explicit and visible sign of God’s self-communication. The notion of conversion seems to disappear. Rahner is sensitive to these criticisms and argues that implicit faith is always striving to be made explicit and so all people are still called to become members of the Church. He also adds that Christians have a greater chance of salvation than those who remain outside. Despite these attempted assurances (and Rahner’s basically orthodox intentions cannot be doubted) it is difficult to dismiss the charge that the notion of the “anonymous Christian” does certainly make mission seem far less of an important issue than the major task of the Church which it has long been held to be. Rahner does state, however, that anyone who closed himself off to ‘explicit faith’ could not be justified by implicit faith and so the basic problem may lie to an extent in Rahner’s use of ‘implicit’ and ‘explicit’ which certainly tends towards a misunderstanding of Rahner’s position as making the ‘explicit’ superfluous. Von Balthasar charged Rahner with basically positing an Enlightenment version of religion, a general theory of religion – universally applicable to all men and doing away with particularity.

Or so the story goes. But is it a fair account of Rahner's position? Does his theology ultimately end up with Christians annihilating themselves, as Balthasar has it in his dialogue between the commissar and the Christian (a Rahnerian) in The Moment of Christian Witness? "You've liquidated yourselves and spared us the trouble"...

Another criticism of Rahner has been directed at him from both so-called ‘pluralists’ and ‘exclusivists’. This is that the term “anonymous Christian” is in fact ‘imperialistic’ and an impediment to dialogue. John Hick is one who has thus accused Rahner – stating that if one regards the adherents of non-Christian religions as basically ‘crypto-Christians’ then one is simply imposing a Christian identity on them whether they like it or not. Rahner, however, never meant for the term to be used in the confrontation with other religions, rather it was an intra-Christian term. The force of the argument is somewhat nullified when one considers that Hick basically tells adherents of all religions (including Christianity) that their beliefs and practices are simply expressions of a common religious experience of man and that he knows better than all of them what their fundamental beliefs really are. Rahner is working within a Christian dogmatic framework and any charges of ‘arrogance’ are simply misplaced – they are essentially arguments against the claims of Christianity to be the absolute religion – one can argue against this if one wishes but in doing so one ceases to be a Christian. Similarly Lindbeck argues that any notions of “implicit faith” such as the “anonymous Christian” are a hindrance to dialogue. It is better, says Lindbeck to dispense with any such designations and treat the other religions as they would like to be treated – as distinct readings of being. “The otherness of the other” (Milbank) is thereby respected and an authentic dialogue can commence. There is certainly some force to this argument and it certainly appears more honest than when Hick levels it at Rahner.

Balthasar Blog Conference

I'm not sure if this is the first theology 'blog conference' but it's certainly an interesting idea. It's being hosted at the Fire and the Rose blog.

The topic is “Von Balthasar’s Theological Interpretation of Scripture.” Not something I'm terribly familiar with so it should prove to be enlightening.

A NT scholar whilst I was in University did however, in the course of lamenting the divorce between theology and biblical studies, point to Balthasar as an example of a theologian who proof-texts scripture without due regard to historical criticism and so forth.

Hopefully the conference papers will provide a more nuanced view of von Balthasar's approach to Scripture. Though the issue of Biblical studies' relation to theology is obviously one that needs to be worked out more completely. The same lecturer also complained about Karl Rahner, in an essay in a rare compilation that he owned, telling off Biblical scholars and letting them know that their findings had to conform to the ideas that dogmatic theologians were discussing! I read the essay and found myself agreeing with Rahner for the most part!

The Charge against Rahner (Part 1)

Rahner has been labelled a 'transcendental thomist'. His failed doctoral thesis on Thomas Aquinas (later published as Spirit in the World) read Thomas through the lens of the German idealist tradition. His account was inspired in part by earlier philosophers such as Maurice Blondel and Joseph Marechal. His basic philosophical presupposition is that all categorical knowledge is possible because of an openness to being itself as the horizon for this knowledge. Being here is taken to be God. For Rahner, humankind is ‘transcendental’ in that it searches for answers to the question of its own finitude – in the long run this answer can only be “the mystery of being” itself. This openness to being is prior to any categorical knowledge (since it is its presupposition). It can be described in a “nutshell” by saying that in recognising his finitude, man has an implicit knowledge of the infinite (God). It is on the basis of his early work in Spririt in the World that Rahner is seen to build the edifice of his theology. Rahner's position is held to be a form of the 'experiential-expressivist' approach to religion which George Lindbeck identifies. Thus he begins with the subject, conceived as existing within a noumenal realm divorced from the phenomenal world and thus ultimately transcending such factors as culture, language, and history (the Kantian inheritance). Indeed, Fergus Kerr, in his Theology after Wittgenstein, points to what he views as the basic Cartesian position that Rahner holds, presenting us with a self which has a "standpoint beyond his immersion in the bodily, the historical and the institutional."

John Milbank is another influential theologian who does not have much time for Rahner, believing that he was not as successful in overcoming the dichotomy between nature and grace that had developed in neo-scholasticism. In Theology and Social Theory, Milbank characterises Rahner's 'solution', in a self-confessed "crude" fashion as "naturalising the supernatural" whereas de Lubac "supernaturalised the natural". The distinction may seem slight to many, but according to Milbank it has disastrous consequences: no less than the relegation of religious faith to a private realm which allows the public and secular realm to continue its reign unabated. In fact it it this factor which undergirds Milbank's critique of Liberation Theology, which he sees as having followed Rahner's line. Rahner's solution to the nature/grace problematic retained the concept of a "pure nature" as a formal distinction in order to guarantee the gratuity of grace. For Milbank this entails an undermining of the rejection of extrinsicism despite Rahner's insistence that in concrete history this "pure nature" is nowhere to be found. The "Supernatural existential" which is a constitutive element in all human beings is already a gift of grace. The desire for the beatific vision is itself already grace, it is not a 'natural' aspect of human beings. But this "remainder concept" ensures the retention of a dual end for mankind, one supernatural, the other natural and the way towards secularisation remains open. Milbank acknowledges his debt to Balthasar's reading of Rahner: once again, it is Rahner's "transcendental" approach which is identified as the cause of the problems. The philosophical presuppositions Rahner is alleged to hold are responsible for the downplaying of the concrete in this theology, for "the encounter with grace is situated at the margins of every individual's knowing" and not in specific texts and images (as for de Lubac and Balthasar).J.B. Metz also shares these reservations about Rahner, arguing that his theology is too individualistic and too privatised to render a truly effective political theology possible.

The transcendental approach adopted by Rahner, therefore, trades on a Cartesio-Kantian understanding on the self, it fails to locate the site of God's revelation in concrete beings within history and is therefore prone to a relativisation of the specific revelation of God in Jesus Christ, the importance of the Church and so forth. It is also too individualistic, failing to truly ground humanity's inter-subjective nature, in a way that Balthasar's theology of the person does (e.g. his emphasis on the mother's smile as the awakening of the experience of love in the child etc).

As regards the question of other religions; the self is seen to share a common religious experience with the rest of humanity and the religions are seen to be expressions of this prior experience. Although Rahner would never have gone as far as someone such as John Hick in this direction, it may be asked whether Rahner's theory of the "anonymous Christian" does not already tend in that direction. It is the notion of the "anonymous Christian" which drew the most ire from Balthasar. I will explore the problems with the notion of "anonymous Christians" in my next post.

The Continuing Relevance of Karl Rahner

It is a common to encounter the opinion that Karl Rahner, once the most influential theologian in the Catholic Church, is now somewhat passé. While Rahner's influence was great during the debates leading up to and after Vatican II, his theology is now often looked upon as overly dependent on his transcendental anthropology. A major reason for this reversal in opinions has been the asendency in influence of Hans urs Von Balthasar. He was one of Rahner's most vocal critics, his objection to Rahner's project being most forcefully expressed in his short book Cordula oder der Ernstfall, translated in english as The Moment of Christian Witness. I am a great fan of Balthasar and feel that he levelled some extremely telling criticisms at Rahner's theology and in so doing all theologies which take as their point of departure 'the turn to the subject' characteristic of modern philosophy. This attitude is clearly expressed in an interview with theologian Werner Loser (which doesn't seem to be available online any longer). In it he states that "One morning while reading one of his books, it suddenly struck me that Rahner's theology was limited by his philosophy." This is a common criticism. In theological discourse Rahner is often presented as a sort of 'Catholic Schleiermacher' (with Balthasar the Catholic Barth).

I do, however, retain a soft spot for Rahner, his 'Foundations of Christian Faith' was the first 'heavy' book of theology I read, and it seems unfair that a theologian of his stature, one whom Balthasar himself acknowledged to surpass him in speculative capacity, should be quite so easily written off. Yet this is unfortunately the sort of view prevalent amongst many orthodox Catholics. Indeed, it was on my first forays into the world of the theology on the internet that I first became aware of the attitudes of many 'conservative' Catholics to Rahner: he is habitually written off as a "modernist" and a "heretic". There still are, however, some excellent expositors of Rahner, who while not trying to pretend that his theology is in some ways problematic, attempt to secure Rahner's legacy by demonstrating his continuing relevance.

Such readings of Rahner by Karen Kilby and Richard Lennan reveal a different Rahner from the 'transcendental' theologian so harshly criticised by Balthasar, one who, it could be argued, is actually non-foundationalist (i.e. he doesn't build him entire system on a questionable transcendental anthropology) and of whom the defining characteristic should rather be said to be his ecclesiological emphasis. His writing on the Church far outweighs any other theological theme. These are important developments for they do not allow an easy dismissal of Rahner on the grounds that his entire theology is built on shaky foundations, that these foundations have been destroyed and thus Rahner's theology too, is merely a matter of historical interest. I will offer a series of posts in the coming weeks examining the critiques of Rahner and arguing that his theology does have a future although many criticisms against him are valid.

A Nutty Take on La Nouvelle Théologie

This series of articles hosted on a SSPX website (Society of Saint Pius X - 'traditionalist' schismatics) are illuminating in the perspective they offer on 'la nouvelle théologie' of the last century. It's the story of the battles which raged between the proponents of the 'new theology' and the members of the old guard written from the point of view of those who would now be viewed as 'the losers'. Of course, the term 'new theology' was originally one of opprobrium and thus 'réssourcement' is to be preferred. As de Lubac and company argued, the theology was not 'new': it was there in the Fathers and Thomas Aquinas.

For those who know French, the article by Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange which originally coined the term 'nouvelle théologie' can be accessed here.

The article by Aidan Nichols on 'Thomism and La Nouvelle Théologie' is a useful historical look at the issues at stake in the debates.

Although it is hysterically negative (and wrong) (the SSPX series. not Aidan Nichols' article!) it is interesting in that it really demonstrates just how radical such theologians as Henri de Lubac and von Balthasar were. The series 'investigates' major theologians and philosophers from Maurice Blondel to Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI and if one is sick of the portrayal of the latter two as unyielding conservatives one is treated here to a diametrically opposed view of them as fiery radicals! In the chapter on Balthasar he is portrayed as having some crazed obsession with ecumenism. Aside from the novelty interest in the articles they do include quite a number of direct quotes from the theologians and passages from correspondence between them which are of interest.

Newman's Ecclesiology

Newman’s ecclesiology encompasses such issues as the role of the laity, the relationship between theologians and the magisterium and the role of authority. Certain dimensions of his ecclesiology drew fire from his critics although the suspicions of his orthodoxy (levelled at him by other Catholics) were unjustified and the Vatican II declaration on the Church vindicates his arguments. Nevertheless certain of his views are somewhat dangerous in that they appear to reflect an overly positive view at times such as, for example, the notion that the laity ought to be consulted on matters of faith - quite what this entails is of supreme importance.

The concept of the threefold office of the Church comprises Newman’s ecclesiological views. He articulates this view in his 1877 preface to ‘Lectures on the Prophetical Office of the Church’, written when he was atill an Anglican. This threefold office corresponds to the threefold ministry of Christ, whose body the Church is. The three offices – prophetic, priestly and kingly – correspond to three offices in the Church, respectively: theology (prophetic), the worshipping community (priestly) and governance – the provenance of the Pope and the hierarchy (kingly). Even during his period as an Anglican Newman had developed an ecclesiology which, although conceived of as a ‘Via Media’ between Protestantism and the Roman Catholic Church, was heavily indebted to the Church Fathers. He wanted to return to the Catholicism of the Church. Newman was utterly opposed to the protestant notion of ‘private judgement’ wherein each individual judged revelation of his accord. The simple historical fact that so many diverse opinions resulted through this emphasis on ‘sola scriptura’ was enough to show forth the need for the authority of the Church which correctly interprets scripture (does not ‘invent’ it, although development of doctrine may occur, i.e. a making explicit of what was already implicit in revelation). This notion of development can be seen as the result of Newman’s division of tradition into ‘Episcopal’ (derived from the apostles) and ‘Prophetical’ (derived from the interpretation of revelation. In this preface Newman also sought to explore the relation between the formal teaching of the Church and its popular manifestation. Thus Newman was able to both acknowledge that there was corruption in the Church as well as assert that this cannot be attributed to the official teaching of the Church. The role of the theologian is to attempt to regulate the teaching of the Church, although he was also sensitive to popular devotion and felt theology needed to let this seep through so that it may not become cold and rigid. Newman even went so far as to express his doubts that, were any nation to completely do away with superstition, faith could still be said to exist there.

This brings us to the issue of the role of the Laity – something that brought about suspicions of his orthodoxy. Newman’s experiences as Rector of the Catholic University of Ireland (1851-1858) made him aware of the little regard with which the hierarchy regarded the laity. Newman wrote an article in the liberal Catholic publication ‘The Rambler’ (of which he had been made editor – a ‘compromise’ choice, it was hoped he would reign in the more radical aspects of the paper whilst still contributing to the task of creating an educated laity) entitled “On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine”. In this work he argued that the Church ‘consults’ the laity (in the sense of inquiring into a matter of fact, not of asking its opinion) before defining a doctrine. The ‘consensus fidelium’ was an indicator of the faith of the Church. Newman had first explored this idea in his work ‘The Arians of the Fourth Century’ in which he argued that it had been the laity, not the Bishops, who had upheld orthodoxy. Newman argued that the Church had to take into account the faithful and that this was necessary for its well-being. This did not go down well with members of the Roman curia nor with Catholics closer to home such as Cardinal Manning. It was considered that Newman was endangering the notion of authority and his statement that "there was a temporary suspense of the functions of the Ecclesia docens" in the fourth century appeared to many that Newman was calling into question the infallibility of the Church’s magisterium by claiming that it had failed over the Arian controversy. Monsignor Talbot in Rome interpreted Newman’s invocation of the “consensus fidelium” as meaning a consensus of the faithful in opposition to the clergy. As Ian Ker points out, Newman’s terminology – his use of the word consult – was certainly the cause of much confusion. These arguments, however, do not stand up when one considers Newman’s respect for authority (more will be said on this in due course). What they reflected was an inflated view of the hierarchy which was seen as the ‘real’ Church whilst the laity were simply ‘passengers’. Vatican II’s decree on the dogmatic constitution of the Church, ‘Lumen Gentium’, vindicates Newman’s approach by seeing the Church as ‘The People of God’, that is both clergy and laity whose role was given much greater emphasis than in the past. On this, as with many things, Newman can be seen to have been ahead of his time.

Nevertheless, it must be said that on this issue one can see why many would have had qualms. For example, today many Catholics (mistakenly) appeal to this notion in defense of their dissenting views against the magisterium. If the Church were to consult the faithful on matters of doctrine today, she may be given a rather odd, if not downright heretical, view. This, of course, is to look on one aspect of Newman’s ecclesiology to the neglect of others such as the authority of the Church. As already noted, Newman felt all needed to co-exist in a creative tension for the Church to function correctly. Also Newman’s conception of the ‘faithful’ was one which tried to reflect the earlier Church’s conception – that of all faithful, baptized Christians – before a stark division had been made between clergy and laity.

It is said to reflect that these suspicions on his orthodoxy had such an effect that Newman ceased to publish until spurred into action by Charles Kingsley’s attack on him which gave rise to Newman’s classic ‘Apologia pro vita sua’. With this work Newman endeared himself once again to English Catholics. When one considers Newman’s views on authority, however, it is difficult to understand how one could have doubted his orthodoxy. He was, to be sure, no ‘ultramontane’ such as Cardinal Manning, yet neither could he be seen as a liberal Catholic who despised tradition. This can be seen in his rejection of the principle of private judgment and his emphasis on the need for an authoritative protection of the “deposit of faith”. Thus he was a defender of infallibility and was particularly pleased with the decree when it eventually came out for it was fairly restrained. He championed the rights of conscience but this had a role in the practical sphere in which infallible judgements could not be pronounced. Conscience could not simply go against authority without due consideration and the need for an informed conscience.

As against theologians who would make martyrs of their being silenced (a la Hans Kung), he asserted that even when in a particular case the hierarchical Church may be wrong there is a need for the theologian to abide by the decision out of the “obedience of faith” even though he may hope that in time his opinion may be vindicated: one can see this sort of attitude in such theologians as Yves Congar and Henri de Lubac - their insights ultimately being taken up into the purview of the Church. That said, he did desire greater discussion amongst theologians that an opinion may either be vindicated or eventually condemned and looked to the Middle Ages as an ideal when the Church ‘let things go’ for a period of time until it finally made a decision. But submission to authority was not something which Newman wished to downplay, even when it may be unjust, for challenging it only does greater damage to the Church as a whole.

Newman’s ecclesiological views did not warrant the suspicions with which certain members of the Church looked upon them. He was ahead of his time and his influence can be seen in Vatican II documents. His being chosen as a Cardinal is also a vindication of his orthodoxy even in his own time.

New Wintersleep album

My first non-theology related post (although is there any aspect of existence in which theology has no role to play?). Anyway, one of my favourite bands Wintersleep have a new album due on the 2nd October.

Checking out the lyrics, the song "Dead Letter & The Infinite Yes" contains a line which would have made a great name for a theology blog..."Whispers of an Infinite Yes".

If anyone chances upon this post I would definitely recommend checking them out, especially if you're an afficionado of alternative rock (though I wouldn't like to pidgeon-hole them like that, they display other influences such as folk as well).

Theology Lessons with Herbert McCabe

Herbert McCabe was a truly remarkable theologian. I could not think of anyone better to recommend to someone looking to learn some theology. McCabe can be recommended because his writing is so different to the jargon filled, tortorous prose that many modern theologians produce, yet without losing anything in terms of profundity. An example of this can be seen in an article he wrote for New Blackfriars (which may also appear in one of the volumes that comprise various of his articles, I'm not sure). He has the superb ability to really capture an important theological idea with a simple turn of phrase, a perfectly understandable analogy and retains great wit and informality throughout. Below is a discussion of his essay.

God:

He opens with the ever-important reminder that our conceptions of God are only ever approximations to the divine. That the terms in which we speak of God can only ever be used analogously. Or as he puts it:
"He is always dressed verbally in second-hand clothes that don't fit him very well". When we speak of God we only ever speak in terms which are familiar to ourselves and which do not reveal who or what God is but nevertheless are essential if we are to talk of God at all. McCabe thus tells us that clearly metaphorical terms such as 'the Father' are preferable to more abstract terms such as 'God' since they are clearly metaphorical and not likely to be confused for the real thing. That this is of paramount importance becomes clear when one considers the dangers inherent in talk of God as 'Being': the perils of making God a mere 'god' (or as it has been fashionable to say since Heidegger, the dangers of 'onto-theology') are always close at hand and must be carefully guarded against.

The Divinity of Christ:

McCabe then links our understanding of the divine to the radical change that Jesus Christ has brought about to it. Our understanding must begin "from what we have come to call the Trinity". McCabe puts paid to the Barthian-inspired fears that Thomist theology tacks on Christian doctrine to a pre-existing, 'pagan' understanding of God. The importance of Jesus is the radical change he made in our understanding of what 'love' means. Thus the Christian emphasis on charity or agape: that understanding of love which is differentiated from eros in its universality, its insistence on equality. The claim by Jesus that the Father loved him is the most radical of all.

McCabe then proceeds to explain Christ's divinity from this claim. "Love begins and ends in equality", says McCabe, and from this goes on to explain how God could not 'love' his creatures. There is abolutely no equality between us and the Creator. At most then, God could be kind to us, He could take pity on us, He could be caring towards us, but He cannot love us. Even a master/slave relationship can involve affection and kindness, but there can be no mistaking this for a relationship of love in which two equals must be presupposed. Hierarchical structures, although they have always existed and in human society are a necessity can never be love (although that is not to say that they are necessarily unloving).

And yet the problem remains: does God not then love us? Must God remain in an infantile relationship of authority with his creatures? Both Marx and Nietzche saw this and felt the need to reject the existence of God, for the sake of mankind. Man could never be free, if this God were accepted: he would always remain a kind of 'slave'. Thus Jesus' claim, that the Father loved him, is a claim on behalf of his divinity: "To say that Jesus is divine and to say that God is capable of love is to proclaim one and the same doctrine." An Arian view of Christ, marking him as only a supreme creature, destroys the possibility of love. If Jesus is truly loved, then he must be more than a creature. To say that "God is love" requires the doctrine of the Trinity.

Grace:

It remains the case, however, that we ourselves are but creatures and thus God cannot love us equals. Here the doctrine of grace comes in, so clearly explained by McCabe: "'In Christ' we are taken up into the exchange of love between the Father and the incarnate and human son, we are filled with the Holy Spirit, we become part of the divine life. We call this 'grace'. By grace we ourselves share in the divine and that is how God can love us."

Deification:

The issue of sin has not yet even been alluded to. It is first and foremost our creaturehood that prevents us from being genuinely loved by God. And so "we need not only to be forgiven from sin but to be divinised from simple creaturehood." Sin, therefore, is nothing but our settling for our creaturely status, refusing the risk of being drawn up into the life of the Triune God. The gift of the Holy Spirit allows us to share in God's own love.

Freedom from Sin and the Law:

Although laws are a necessary institution in human society, to live under the law is ultimately to be a sort of 'slave'. The essence of man is freedom and "it is a mysterious fact about human beings that even to conform to the law of our own being is to be restricted. We naturally tend beyond ourselves". (Here McCabe echoes the key insight of the ressourcement movement in Catholic theology last century). Man is a 'graced creature', there never has been any 'pure nature' and thus, as a matter of fact, the only way to be without grace is to reject it: not only are we slaves, we are guilty ones. To be forgiven is thus to be brought back around to the fact that God loves us unconditionally, we need no longer labour under the mistaken conception of a "punitive" judge, who changes his mind about us only once we have repented. This insight from McCabe brings our attention to the 'immutability of God's love - His love for us is unwavering: we need only, like the prodigal son, return to the arms of our loving Father, who is already waiting to greet us. McCabe argues that it is this realisation that frees us from the bondage of sin.

God as Lover, God as Creator:

For McCabe then, the radical Christian insight into the nature of God is that He is primarily a lover, wishing to draw us into His love - the Christian doctrine of the Trinity is necessary if we are to make sense of scripture's statement that "God is Love". But it is equally important not to lose sight of the notion of God as creator, for although we are to be 'divinised', we are to do so as human beings. For McCabe, grace does not elide nature and he points out how this is a specifically Catholic (and Jewish) concern. This is clear, for example, when one considers the Canon Five of the Council of Trent's decree on Justification:
"If any one saith, that, since Adam's sin, the free will of man is lost and extinguished; or, that it is a thing with only a name, yea a name without a reality, a figment, in fine, introduced into the Church by Satan; let him be anathema." Humanity's natural faculties, though impaired, have not been completely destroyed and the grace sent to us perfects our nature, raising it to the supernatural level which it naturally (!) tends to.

Love thy Neighbour:

To love someone is to give them the gift of freedom; the freedom and 'space' to be themselves. Of course, as McCabe points out, indifference seems to be very much the same thing. One can see this in modern day attitudes that wish to equate Christian love with the liberal principle of "live and let live". But this attitude is a counterfeit, what it manifests is a complete lack of care about other human beings. God loves us unconditionally but this does not mean he is indifferent to sin.

The difference of creation:

In one sense, the doctrine of creation makes no difference whatsoever to things. Science, for example, can study natural phenomena without any need to consider whether the world was created out of nothing. But in another sense, creation makes, quite literally, all the difference in the world. It makes all the difference between there being something or nothing at all. And for McCabe, although he does not particularly address it in this essay, the question "why is there something rather than nothing?" is the first step to recognising that the entire world's existence is a mystery to which God is ultimately the answer. I hope to write about this some other time.

Quote for the day

"When God forgives our sin, he is not changing his mind about us; he is changing our mind about him."

- Herbert McCabe, 'Forgive us Our Trespasses' (a sermon)

Hans urs Von Balthasar on the Petrine Office

The loud-mouthed, Christian, mostly clerical rogues who take such pleasure in attacking Rome can study their own physiognomies in the satirical pictures of Bosch and Breughel…They have all the laughs on their side. But Peter must have seemed fairly laughable too when he was crucified upside down; it was simply a good joke…therefore, blessed the office—whether it’s the Pope or the bishops or simple priests who stand firm, or anyone else who feels responsible when people start saying ‘the Church should do this and that’—which offers itself to fulfill this function, to be the seat of the illness. There is no honor to be won in this role, but if the crowd is to have its fun, a face is needed which one can slap in order to try one’s own strength: the oscillation of the needle tells one infallibly how strong one is. And that too is a form of infallibility.

- “The Pope Today”, Elucidations, trans. John Riches, (London: SPCK, 1975), quoted in the following article http://www.ignatius.com/magazines/hprweb/cleaveland.htm

On the notion of a Cosmic Fall

Having thought a bit about the question of evolution and suffering and having reflected on the discussion that ensued, I thought I'd delve a little further into the idea of a "cosmic fall". The notion is not alien to Christian tradition but I suppose it does create some tension as regards the other, equally important doctrine to be affirmed: that the world was created good.

Traditionally, Christianity has worked with a two-fold typology for thinking about evil. Thus evil can be considered in its two forms - natural or ontological evil and moral/ethical evil. With this division in place, moral evil has typically been explained with recourse to the Christian doctrine of the fall. Man's nature, though not completely corrupted, has been wounded and his will, though free, yet tends to evil. A horror as monstrous as the holocaust, for example, is attributable to humanity's free will. The question of 'natural evil' presents a different problem for it appears to be no agent through which it comes about.

However, in this post I wish to investigate one avenue for explaining the evil that appears so rife in the 'natural' world: that natural evil itself can be attributed to the nefarious influence of malign spiritual beings. That this will appear an 'outdated' idea, one not fit for 'modern' men and women, I contend that such an understanding is necessary if Christians are to remain free from the sort of rationalizations of evil that seem so repulsive to 'protest' atheists and should seem equally so to Christians.

Of course, I do not wish to revive the ancient heresy of Manichaeism. Orthodox belief has always affirmed that creation is a gift from God who viewed it as "very good". Thus what I am maintaining here is not that creation is the result of the workings of a demiurge, or that it is the product of a pre-cosmic fall from the Pleroma. The doctrine that the world was created ex nihilo is a safeguard against such postulations. But the notion of a cosmic fall does not endanger this. "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth": the angels too, were created ex nihilo. And even if such an emphasis on a catalcysmic fall strikes some as far too gnostic, it may well be that we need to discern the kernel of truth that gnosticism contains. As it is, I do not think that this element of truth is something which cannot be found with orthodox Christian belief in any case.

Aquinas deals with the problem of natural evil by arguing that from the perspective of God's perfect ordering of the universe these deficiencies in being are necessary. Now, I would not wish to say that a finite and limited being is in any sense 'evil'. Aquinas does not argue that in any case, rather he argues that evil signifies a privation in being. For a man not to be able to fly is not 'evil', but for a man to be born blind is, as the gift of sight constitues part of his nature. Thus in the passage cited in the discussion on the problem of evil, Aquinas states his view:

"God and nature and any other agent make what is best in the whole, but not what is best in every single part, except in order to the whole, as was said above (47, 2). And the whole itself, which is the universe of creatures, is all the better and more perfect if some things in it can fail in goodness, and do sometimes fail, God not preventing this. This happens, firstly, because "it belongs to Providence not to destroy, but to save nature," as Dionysius says (Div. Nom. iv); but it belongs to nature that what may fail should sometimes fail; secondly, because, as Augustine says (Enchir. 11), "God is so powerful that He can even make good out of evil." Hence many good things would be taken away if God permitted no evil to exist; for fire would not be generated if air was not corrupted, nor would the life of a lion be preserved unless the ass were killed. Neither would avenging justice nor the patience of a sufferer be praised if there were no injustice." (ST 1, 48, 2, rep to obj. 3)

For Aquinas then, such evils as cancer, whilst causing untold pain and suffering for the victim and those close to him, from the point of view of the ultimate perfection of the universal order, are not 'evil' in any meaningful sense, on the contrary, they themselves can contribute to this ultimate perfection by, for example, being the catalyst for someone to display great patience in their suffering, for another to visit the sick person in hospital and so forth.

Now, Aquinas is a theologian I very much admire, but in this instance I simply cannot agree with him. Does not Aquinas' rationalization of evil as a constituent part of a perfect cosmic ordering fall prey to Ivan Karamazov's argument against God? As D.B. Hart points out in The Doors of the Sea: Dostoyevsky's Christian genius lies not in the perception that the suffering and death in the universe is not morally intelligible but that it would be far worse if it were!

Aquinas' theology was forged to a large extent in the battle against Manichaeism which had reared its ugly head in the heresy of the Cathars. However, whilst it was entirely necessary for Aquinas to do battle on behalf of the doctrine that God's creation is good, it may be the case that in defending it, he underplayed the truth from which the Cathar heresy was a deviation: heresy being an overemphasis on one aspect of a truth.

It is not difficult to affirm Creation's goodness. One experiences countless instances of it in nature: a glorious sunset, a peaceful sea, the majestic flight of an eagle (as you can probably tell, I'm no poet). But it is far less easy to affirm it when one sees, for example, a young mother's body ravaged by cancer: I simply cannot accept that it is entirely natural and part of God's good creation that this should be the case. I believe that a stress on the goodness of creation whilst recognising said creation's fallen nature is absolutely necessary to avoid the Scylla of a cosmic order which entails suffering and death for its ultimate perfection and the Charybdis of Manichaeism.

As regards the question of how all this relates to evolution, it might be said that the fall need not have been an actual, temporal event but a 'mythological' expression for what we recognise to be creation's bondage. Thus whilst there may never have been a literal, 'golden age', the story of the Fall symbolises a cosmic catastrophe that has brought creation to its knees. Thus in Scripture, the enmity which exists in the animal kingdom is not what God intended and the Prophet Isaiah's eschatological vision of nature's redemption involves the cow and the bear grazing together and the lion eating straw with the ox. (Is 11:7-8) Man's redemption has ontological consequences for the whole of creation - as he will once again rule over nature without enmity either between himself and the animal kingdom or within the animal kingdom itself. A "cosmic fall" calls for a "Cosmic Christ" to redeem us. But even here the notion of a literal fall does not need to be discarded quite so easily as the fall of man could have occurred in the context of an already disordered creation (due to the rupture of sin into creation with the rebellion of the angels).

And before it is objected that this is simply a return to a mythological mindset we have long since left behind, the notion that animal predation is not 'natural' was held by none other than C.S. Lewis who associated it with the ancient Satanic rebellion in his book, The Problem of Pain. Lewis is especially interesting in this context because he saw there really was a problem with animal suffering. Again, Aquinas on this score, was unfortunately in tune with his age and saw no real issue with the suffering of animals, for they were merely dumb brutes, devoid of reason and placed on earth for the use of humans. Lewis also ties this in with the notion that humanity may have had a redemptive role to play in "subduing" nature and restoring its original order. Of course, the fall of man can only have exacerbated this problem.

I think it is also important to point out that the view of a Satanic distortion of nature and its processes is not necessarily inconsistent with a Thomist position. As E.L. Mascall (an Anglo-Catholic thomist) points out:

"Insofar as the evolutionary process may have been distorted before the advent of man, it is reasonable to explain this distortion by the common Christian doctrine that one of the functions which God has committed to the angels is the supervision of the lower creation, so that the defection of certain of the angels has had as one of its consequences a disorganization of the material world and the dislocation of its functions." (quoted in Andrew Linzey's Animal Theology). Aquinas held that creation was chiefly governed by angels.

Modern philosophers such as Alvin Platinga also subscribe to this view so one can see that it is not the sole preserve of "fundamentalists".

As I remarked in my post on evolution, the acceptance that God's will for creation includes predation, suffering and death leaves us with a very strange God indeed and one that will inevitably tie us up in theodicies that ought to leave us cold.

In an age where there are abundant calls for theology to shed its "false humility", to no longer let itself be cowered into proclaiming only what is deemed acceptable to secular reason, it may be time to bring the notion of a "cosmic fall" back.