Category: Theology & Faith

  • Disappearing act

    Apparently there was some controversy about the remains of John Henry Newman. The Catholic Church wanted to exhume the remains of the soon-to-be-sainted cardinal (and famous convert from Anglicanism) and display them for veneration. But Newman had explicitly requested burial next to his longtime friend Father Ambrose St John, which is further complicated by the fact that many people think that Newman was gay and that he and Fr. Ambrose were in love (though probably celibate).

    Whatever the truth, Cardinal Newman seems to have taken matters into his own hands by disappearing from the grave altogether!

  • Tagged!

    From Rick Ritchie – five people (living or dead) who have been a positive influence on your spiritual life. It’s kind of tricky question for a few reasons. For one, I don’t know that my spiritual life is anything to write home about. For another, I’m sure that what spiritual life I do have has been formed in large part by influences I’m not always consciously aware of (participating in the liturgy on a regular basis, for instance). But here goes:

    1. C.S. Lewis: Probably my biggest theological influence at the end of the day. I’ve read plenty of theologians and philosophers who make tighter and more sophisticated arguments, and I don’t agree with Lewis on everything, but more than anyone else, his writing (both fiction and non-fiction) imparted to me a sense of what it would actually be like to inhabit a Christian universe.
    2. Andrew Linzey: Helped show me that you could, and should, incorporate concern for animals and the rest of the non-human world into an orthodox, trinitarian theology. This has greatly enlarged my vision of what the gospel is.
    3. Miguel de Unamuno: I don’t know that this Spanish Catholic existentialist philosopher is much read anymore, but his passionate case for the Kierkegaardian leap of faith (laid out in his Tragic Sense of Life and elsewhere) left a permanent mark on me. There are plenty of times when I find myself doubting the truth of Christianity or the existence of God, but Unamuno emphasized that when we can’t believe that it’s true, we can hope that it is, and try to live accordingly. Being a skeptical, ironic Christian is undoubtedly not ideal, but sometimes it’s the best I can manage.
    4. I doubt he would even remember me, but the campus Lutheran minister when I was in grad school was extremely helpful to me when I was taking my first, tentative steps back toward church life and my first steps into Lutheranism period. He was very welcoming and also provided sound counsel during a personal crisis of sorts.
    5. My wife. Probably the most significant influence on my life, period.

    I tag, should they wish to participate, Chris, Derek, Jennifer, Marvin, Christopher and anyone else interested in playing.

  • More thoughts on omnipotence and creation

    In the previous post I talked about Jay McDaniel’s proposal for a revised account of divine omnipotence and creation based on the suggestion of a primordial chaos that coexists with God, a chaos out of which God creates the world and which limits the divine ability to shape creation.

    I agree with McDaniel about the need to re-think some traditional notions of divine omnipotence, and that the Old Testament is ambiguous in affirming creation ex nihilo, but I’m not persuaded to go all the way with him. First, for Christians at least, the prologue to John’s Gospel and other New Testament passages do seem to affirm creation ex nihilo, and this should carry significant weight.

    Second, the idea of a primordial chaos co-existent with God throughout all time seems ill-justified. Is it more parsimonious to posit two uncreated realities than one? McDaniel suggests that there may have been a series of universes, contracting and expanding, as suggested by some astrophysicists, and that the chaos of energy events is the remnants of the previous cosmos, but why should there be any cosmos at all? This is the question at the base of the cosmological argument: why is there anything rather than nothing?

    Christians should only let themselves be pushed to such a drastically revisionist stance if there are no better alternatives available. And I think there are better ways of dealing with the problem of theodicy available. One is, instead of positing a primordial chaos that limits God’s ability to shape creation, to think in terms of the possibilities that exist in the divine mind. This sea of possibility, if you will, is not an actually existing “stuff” alongside God, but is comprised by the concepts of all the possible worlds that could self-consistently exist.

    To create, God can only choose to actualize a world that is, in fact, possible. And, as we saw in the discussion of Southgate’s book, there are reasons for thinking that complex life as we know it is only possible by means of a process that also involves suffering and frustration. So, what limits God is not the recalcitrance of some primordial stuff, but the very logical structure of reality, as expressed by the divine mind.

    Further, rather than restricting divine power to the ability to “lure” by presenting possibilities (a notion of dubious coherence when applied to inorganic matter), it might make more sense to see God as intentionally choosing to limit the divine power in order to allow creatures a certain autonomy. This “kenotic” understanding of divine power emphasizes that God wants and chooses to allow creatures to live and develop according to their own divinely-given natures. In restricting the divine power to that of persuasion, the process understanding doesn’t seem to do justice to the biblical and Christian picture of God, which is that of, among other things, a sovereign creator.

  • Creation and omnipotence: a process perspective

    As a follow-up of sorts to my reading of Christopher Southgate’s The Groaning of Creation, I picked up Jay McDaniel’s Of God and Pelicans: A Theology of Reverence for Life, which Southgate refers to a number of times in his book.

    McDaniel is a process theologian who has also been influenced by feminist theology, as well as Zen Buddhism. His goal is to develop–as the subtitle suggests–a “biocentric” theology and ethic for what he calls a “postpatriarchal” Christianity.

    Like Southgate, one of the issues that concerns McDaniel is the problem of animal suffering. However, McDaniel goes further in revising the concept of God than Southgate would. Along with several other process theologians, McDaniel questions the traditional notion of creation ex nihilo (or creation out of nothing).

    Instead McDaniel suggests that, alongside God, there existed at the time of creation a “primordial chaos” out of which God forms patterns of order and complexity, ultimately giving rise to the world as we know it. The chaos has its own internal principle of energy and spontaneity, which also sets limits to what God can do in creating the world.

    …for [process theologians], God did not create the world out of nothing. Rather he–or, better, she–created the world out of a chaos of energy events present at the beginning of our cosmic epoch. […] At that stage the chaos was within her as part of her body, and while it was devoid of order and novelty, it was nevertheless possessive of its own ability to actualize possibilities, its own creativity. By availing the chaos of possibilities for order and novelty, god gave birth to the universe within herself, and the birth process continues. (p. 36)*

    Thus the world should be seen as at least partly independent of God and outside of strict divine control. Indeed, God’s power is conceived by McDaniel not as determining events unilaterally but as presenting possibilities that are creatively actualized (or not) by finite beings. Drawing on quantum theory he contends that, even at the subatomic level, “pulses of energy” may go in more than one possible direction and are not strictly predictable or determined. And as matter becomes more complex, and eventually gives rise to living beings, this principle of creativity and unpredictability becomes ever more pronounced.

    This explains, according to McDaniel, why the creation proceeds along paths that seem inimical to the will of an all-loving God. God can creatively respond to what happens in creation and try to “lure” it along more life-giving paths, but cannot strictly determine what happens. Hence creation tends toward ever more complex forms of life, but also contains a great deal of apparently pointless suffering.

    McDaniel argues that, even though it departs from tradition, his approach is justified because it takes God’s love, rather than power, as its starting point. While much traditional theology has understood God’s power as the ability to unilaterally determine events, many have had trouble reconciling this kind of power with the love that Christians attribute to God. If God is love, does it make sense to attribute a unilateral determining power to him, or do our notions of power need to be re-thought in light of the kind of self-giving love we see in Jesus?

    More thoughts on this in the next post…
    —————————————————————–
    *McDaniel writes, “I use the feminine pronoun purposefully, though I do not mean to imply that masculine language cannot also be helpful. Within contemporary Christian communities, different images can and should be used to indicate the all-loving God of Christian faith, female as well as male” (p. 36).

  • Anarchy, church, and utopia

    Marvin describes and interesting-sounding book comparing the situation of Christianity in contemporary Africa to the young Christian movement in the ancient world. One issue both face(d) is deciding which aspects or elements to preserve of the religious outlook that preceded Christianity. Christians in the ancient world divided between those, like Tertullian, who drew a bright line between Christianity and pagan wisdom, and those, like Justin Martyr, who sought to preserve and transfigure the truths of pagan religion and philosophy. Likewise, the church in Africa faces a similar debate with respect to its pre-Christian indigenous traditions.

    Marvin sides with the modern-day Justin Martyrs and Origens:

    If all things are held together by the Word, as the scripture says, then there are echoes of the Word in every time, place and ideology. If in fact God has revealed his will to us for the purpose of gathering all things unto Christ, then a move like Justin’s and [Kwame] Bediako’s seems not just warranted but mandatory. Obviously we must test the spirits and not be led astray by what is false, but we can also test in the confidence that something valuable will precipitate.

    In short, there is no Christianity, no theology, and no line of interpretation that is pure and unsullied by the accretions of time or the infestations of alien ideologies. The Incarnation and the Lordship of Christ over all creation simply demand an admixture of Christ and culture.

    He says this has implications for us in the “post-Christian” west (or north) too:

    Origen didn’t fear building with Greek philosophy, and neither should we fear building with anew with the brick and mortar of liberalism.

    What’s different about our situation, though, is that we’re living in a society that has been (to some extent) penetrated and shaped by the Christian message. Indeed, liberalism can’t be understood (or so I’d argue) apart from European Christianity. Some of its key elements are (often barely) secularized imports from Christianity: the freedom and dignity of the person, an emphasis on the limited and fragmentary nature of human knowledge, and a recognition of irreducible pluralism in society.

    And yet, as critics have pointed out, liberalism has some significant flaws. I’d say this can be summed up as liberalism’s apparent inability to provide a check or limitation on human appetite and self-will (whether individual or collective) due to a tendency toward relativism about the good that sees human desire as the final arbiter of right and wrong.

    “Reductive” liberalism denies that there is any good for humans as such, beyond what they prefer. Fundamentalisms of various sorts uphold an overly specified and dogmatic vision of the good that ignores the valuable contributions of liberal thought. What we need instead is a vision of a shared good that is objective and independent of the human will, but is also freely chosen. What the church should want is a space of civil freedom in which to preach and live the gospel, providing such a vision of human flourishing that, if true, ought to be inherently attractive to people.

    A church that witnesses for the good, while being open to insights from contemporary culture, science, and other religions, is necessary in a society that seeks to provide its members with the maximum amount of freedom. Just as the nascent church learned from Hellenistic philosophy and Stoic ethics, the postmodern church can learn to permanently put aside dreams for a “pure” community–a dream based ultimately on fear–and joyously offer to share what it has received from its Lord.

  • Humane Society steps up its religion and animals program

    A report from the Boston Globe (via Episcopal Cafe).

    With a rising concern about things like fair trade and global warming within a lot of churches, will animal welfare start to make inroads? My sense is that this is still not on most churches’ radar screens. Perhaps out of a concern that focusing on animals will shortchange human suffering? (A false dilemma, I’d argue.)

  • The Groaning of Creation 9: Concluding thoughts

    As a wrap-up to this series, I thought I’d offer some concluding thoughts on Christopher Southgate’s The Groaning of Creation.

    Just to briefly review: the problem of animal theodicy as Southgate sees it is that the evolutionary process seems to grind so many sentient creatures under its wheels and to doom so many species to extinction (something like 98 percent of the species that have ever existed are extinct). Given what appears to be a vast and pointless waste of life, can we believe that this process is intended by a good creator?

    As we’ve seen, Southgate’s response has three main components:

  • The evolutionary process, or something very much like it, was the only way (or at least the best way) for God to bring a variety of finite selves into existence, given the constraints imposed by a law-like universe.
  • God is present to, and participates in, the suffering of every creature; this reaches its turning point in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus where God identifies by “deep incarnation” with all creaturely life and inaugurates an age of redeemed existence.
  • Those animals who were denied any chance at a flourishing life will, we can coherently hope, be given a chance for a redeemed and fulfilled existence in some kind of postmortem state, and extinct species will be represented as well.
  • The question is: has Southgate made his case? Has he justified God’s ways (with animals) to man?

    Southgate is appropriately modest about what he has shown and admits in several places that he’s speculating, so let me just offer some questions about things that might need to be pursued further. (Hey! Possible topics for future posts!)

  • Divine action: Southgate holds that God is deeply involved in the evolutionary process (see the post on his trinitarian theology of creation). But he doesn’t really specify the nature and extent of God’s involvement and how it relates to a scientific or purely naturalistic understanding of the process. If God can shape and guide the process, at least to some extent, then why can’t God reduce the amount of pointless suffering and frustration? Not to fault Southgate for not offering a complete theory of divine action, but the extent to which God can or does intervene in creation seems like an important question.
  • Possibility and omnipotence: Southgate commends the “only way” argument as a plausible assumption. That is, it’s reasonable to think that a loving God would only choose this means of creating life if there was no other way to do so with less suffering. But are there stronger reasons for thinking that it really is the only way? Answering this question would seem to require more developed thinking about what philosophers call “modality” (i.e. the nature of possibility and impossibility) as well as the nature of God’s omnipotence.
  • Redemption and eschatology: As I mentioned in my last post, Southgate has a strongly eschatological reading of history; he thinks that the resurrection of Jesus inaugurated a new age in history in which creation is moving toward a reconciliation of all things in Christ. How does this sit with the fact that life on earth will eventually become extinct? Should we expect that God will miraculously intervene before that happens? Or will the forms of beauty and goodness we create now will be “taken up” into the divine life in some trans-historical fashion?
  • Animal selves and animal immortality: One of the biggest challenges for believers in animal immortality is that it’s unclear whether animals have the kinds of “selves” about which it makes sense to say that they can survive death. Even if we grant, as most modern theologians are wont to do, that human selves (or souls) have no natural immortality but are entirely dependent on God for their continued existence, the problem with animal selves/souls is a distinct problem. That’s because it’s uncertain whether many animals have a unified self connecting their experiences and therefore whether there’s any “self” that even could persist beyond the death of the body. Does this threaten to undercut animal immortality as a strategy for theodicy?
  • Overall, I think Southgate’s study points in the right direction for thinking about animal theodicy; this is more a matter of filling out the details in a convincing way. This general perspective allows us to see the evolutionary process as the creative intention of a good God and as in need of redemption.

    Index of posts in this series is here.

  • The Groaning of Creation 8: The ethics of the Ark

    Throughout this series we’ve seen two intertwining themes. First, death and suffering are necessary parts of the process–perhaps the only possible process–by which finite selves are brought into existence. Second, however, this process involves the (seemingly) permanent thwarting of many of those selves as well as the disappearance of entire ways of being (species). And humanity, in partnership with God’s redemptive purposes, has an obligation where possible to alleviate these side-effects of the evolutionary process.

    In the last post we saw how Southgate applies this insight to our practices of raising animals for food. Any system–like our current factory farming system–that permanently frustrates the abilities of billions of sentient creatures to live lives according to their kind perpetuates (and indeed exacerbates to a tremendous degree) the natural ills of creaturely frustration and suffering. As participants in God’s healing of creation, we should work to reform or abolish such systems.

    Next Southgate turns to the ethics of extinction, considering what role human beings have in preventing the disappearance of entire species. Most non controversially he contends that we are obliged to prevent the extinction of species threatened by human activity (anthropogenic extinction). But he goes beyond this with a confessedly “bold” proposal: “a sign of our liberty as children of God starting to set free the whole creation would be that human beings, through a blend of prudential wisdom and scientific ingenuity, cut the rate of natural extinction” (pp. 124-5, emphasis in the original).

    This intriguing suggestion is based on a heavily eschatological reading of natural history:

    […] the Resurrection of Christ inaugurates a new era of redemption, in which all creation is to be renewed. Extending this thought, I hold that the phase of evolution in which new possibilities are explored via competition and extinction is coming to an end, and it is to be superseded by the final phase in which new possibilities of reconciliation and self-transcendence among already existing species will be explored. The hymn in Colossians 1 stresses that this transformation is first and foremost the work of Christ. However, the enigmatic passage from Romans 8 that has informed this study implies that human beings have a key role in this phase; the labor pains of creation await our coming to live in freedom. And a sign of that freedom would be that we seek to prevent any species presently companioned by the Spirit from disappearing from the network of possibilities within creation. (p. 127)

    In practice this requires an extremely ambitious project of conserving what E.O. Wilson calls the “hotspots” of biodiversity and the “frontier zones” of existing wilderness; a vast transfer of resources from rich nations to poor ones, enabling the latter to preserve the biodiversity where they live while escaping grinding poverty; and a determined scientific investigation to catalogue existing species in order to understand how best to preserve them.

    My biggest worry here has to do with Southgate’s apparent optimism about what large-scale human management of the natural world can accomplish. Preserving species threatened by anthropogenic extinction makes perfect sense to me, as does preserving existing wilderness areas to the greatest extent possible. But can we rely on the comprehensiveness of our understanding and the purity of our intentions to micro-manage competition between species in the wild?

    This may stem from a difference in theological opinion: I’m less confident than Southgate seems that we can unambiguously enact the possibilities for transformed ways of living made available by the death and resurrection of Jesus. We remain, in other words, simul justus et peccator, and I think our persistent fallibility and self-serving tendencies need to be taken into account when considering such ambitious schemes. That said, it’s clear we have a mandate to reduce our impact on the natural world to make room for the species that we threaten to crowd out. It may be that we can do far more good this way than by trying to bring to an end a fundamental process of natural selection.

    I’ve probably got one, maybe two, more posts before I wrap up this series.

    Index of posts in this series is here.

  • The Groaning of Creation 7: The (vegetarian) restaurant at the end of the universe

    We saw in the previous post that Southgate thinks humans should play an active role in “healing” the creation by ameliorating some of the negative effects of the evolutionary process. And we’ve also seen that chief among those effects, in his view, are the problem of animal suffering and the problem of extinction.

    Turning to matters of practice, he discusses our relationship with the animals we raise for food and the question of what our response should be to the extinction of species. In this post I’ll discuss the first issue, leaving the discussion of extinction for the next one.

    With respect to food animals, Southgate considers Andrew Linzey’s proposal for what Southgate calls “eschatological vegetarianism.” In Linzey’s view, animals have God-given rights (he calls them “theos-rights”) to live lives according to their kind. Further, he argues that vegetarianism is a way of living in anticipation of God’s peaceable kingdom where there will be no more killing or exploitation between species.

    Southgate reads Linzey as saying that predation is inherently evil and due to the fall of creation, but I’m not sure this is entirely fair. Linzey does flirt with the idea of the cosmic fall, but he allows that the story of the fall may be an imaginative picture that gives us hints of what a redeemed creation will look like, but does not necessarily depict an actual historical state of affairs. (See, for example, the discussion in chapter 3 of his Animal Gospel where he talks in terms of an “unfinished” creation; Linzey seems rather close to Southgate’s own position here.)

    That said, Soutgate agrees with Linzey that the biblical vision of a redeemed creation also condemns many of our current practices toward animals, in farming, science, and industry:

    […] the great proportion of current killing of animals is not reverent but casual, the final act in a relationship with confined animals who know no freedom to be themselves, or healthy relationships either with each other or their human owners. And “owners” is the key word here, because much of this problem stems from the reduction of animal nature to a mere commodity, which in its rearing and killing alike must be processed as cheaply as possible into products. (p. 118)

    However, Southgate thinks that some forms of farming–of the pastoral, free-range variety–can create a flourishing life for animals and genuine community between animals and humans. If we were to stop breeding these animals for food, he contends, this valuable form of community would disappear. He’s therefore unwilling to categorically deny that killing of animals for food can sometimes be done reverently.

    Nevertheless, he recognizes that vegetarianism might still be a sign of kenosis, a self-limiting for the sake of the other. In particular, he says, Christians might feel called to abstain from meat that has been “sacrificed” to the idols of mechanized efficiency and profit that our factory farming system serves, and to avoid animal flesh that wasn’t humanely raised and slaughtered (which would be nearly all of it).

    Southgate’s and Linzey’s positions actually seem rather close here. Both oppose the practices of factory farming and would see free-range alternatives as vastly superior. Moreover, Linzey acknowledges that there are people living today who have to eat meat to survive. Where they may differ is in evaluating the goods of pastoral farming–the form of community it makes possible–and whether that good justifies rearing animals for slaughter when doing so isn’t required for human survival and flourishing. It’s also far from clear whether a large-scale shift to humane animal husbandry could meet current (and future) demand, especially in the context of the current environmental situation, in which case vegetarianism might be embraced by some as a special vocation, even if not a duty.

    Index of posts in this series is here.