Unapologetic Theology

A Christian Voice in a Pluralistic Conversation

William C. Placher

• Publisher: Westminster John Knox Press
• Year: 1989
• ISBN:
  9781611642315
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Christian Theology

In Unapologetic Theology, William Placher examines religion and the search for truth in a pluralistic society. Among the issues he considers are science and its relation to belief, dialogue among various religions, and the theological method.

1

INTRODUCTION

Contemporary pluralism and three problems for theology

This volume bears the title Unapologetic Theology. I hope it was not a mistake to begin with a bad pun. “Apologetics” traditionally constitutes the part of Christian theology devoted to defending Christian faith to a non-Christian audience. It can be an honorable enterprise, but it always risks becoming “apologetic” in a bad sense: defensive, halfhearted. Christian apologists can adopt the language and assumptions of their audience so thoroughly that they no longer speak with a distinctively Christian voice. As a result, they not only cease to give a faithful account of the Christian tradition, they cease to be interesting to their non-Christian listeners because they do not seem to have anything new or different to say.

Contemporary Christian theology often seems to adopt such an “apologetic” tone.¹ Perhaps one reason is that ever since the Enlightenment in the seventeenth century, many forces in our culture have taught that “being rational” meant questioning all inherited assumptions and then accepting only those beliefs which could be proven according to universally acceptable criteria. “Tradition” and “authority” were bad words. If Christians wanted to join the general conversation, it seemed that these were the rules by which they would have to play. If that meant there were some things they could not say, or some ways they could not say them, then they would have to adjust accordingly—or else find themselves in increasing intellectual isolation. Those Enlightenment ideals remain strong today, whether in politically liberal suspicions of any traditional authority—especially if it is religious in origin—or in neoconservative polemics like those of William Bennett and Allan Bloom, which set forth a somewhat secularized version of “the Western tradition” as the only viable standard of intellectual respectability.

In the last several decades, however, the search for universal starting points and standards for rationality so characteristic of the Enlightenment and its heirs has come under attack from many sides—from philosophers, philosophers of science, literary critics, and anthropologists among others—and there seem to be new possibilities for a richer kind of intellectual pluralism, a pluralism that would also welcome voices unwilling to accept the Enlightenment’s assumptions. Critical thinking would not have to begin by questioning all our previous beliefs at once; indeed, that seems impossible. Dialogue would not have to await universally acceptable starting points before it could begin; particular conversations could start with whatever their participants happened to share and go from there. We could admit that of course we all stand within traditions and can never achieve an “objective” point of view; we could try to learn from one another’s traditions rather than casting them all aside.

Such a wider intellectual pluralism is particularly welcome just now because of the mess our society is in. Even the wealthiest young people often seek escape from reality through drugs, homeless people wander our cities, and ecological catastrophe and nuclear devastation threaten us all. It seems plausible that we need some major changes in our values and ways of thinking. Some would argue that we have only failed to press forward far enough with the projects of modernity. Perhaps so. But we should look for answers wherever we can find them. Maybe some non-Western cultures can suggest some alternatives to our competitiveness and materialism; maybe some societies we once would have dismissed as “primitive” can give us lessons in how to live more in harmony with nature. Many people are exploring such possibilities these days.

The Christian gospel too can offer a kind of countercultural critique of the values and beliefs of our times, but these days, at least in the world of universities and “high culture,” those dissatisfied with secular modernity most often turn to the East or to the distant mythic past. One reason seems to be that Christianity cannot criticize our culture very effectively if it has already accepted many of the assumptions of that culture as the price of intellectual respectability. Perhaps the time has come for a more “unapologetic” theology.

My claim is that a new pluralistic model of conversation now being discussed in many quarters could encourage such theology. Two challenges, one from either side, would undercut such pluralism. One side would claim that the Enlightenment was right, and we really do have to find universally acceptable common ground for rational conversation. The other side would insist that we cannot find such common ground, and as a result people from different traditions cannot talk to one another at all.² Either way, genuinely pluralistic conversation would become impossible. I want to argue for some kind of middle position between those extremes of universalism and radical relativism and see what it implies for Christian theology.

Chapters 2, 3, and 4 will trace some of the philosophical developments I have mentioned—the end of an Enlightenment dream of universal rationality. Chapter 3 will look at the case of science in particular and at questions about its claims to a special authority and objectivity. By the end of chapter 4, I will have introduced my own point of view. I have described it as a middle position, and the best way to clarify it seemed to be by contrasting it with the extremes between which it lies. The next two chapters will undertake that task: chapter 5 looking at two strong defenders of Enlightenment ideals, and chapter 6 at two prominent relativists. Chapter 7 will then develop further the idea of pluralistic conversation, and chapter 8 will discuss what Christians might mean by claiming that their beliefs are “true” in a pluralistic context. Chapters 9 and 10 will then turn to three specific issues—religion and science, interreligious dialogue, and theological method—in the light of the intervening discussion in order to show some concrete implications of my proposals. In addition to arguing my own thesis, I hope to introduce interested readers to a good bit of recent philosophy along the way—to help students, teachers, and pastors find out something about what is going on in philosophy these days.

The argument of this book may seem paradoxical. I will be maintaining that Christians ought to speak in their own voice and not worry about finding philosophical “foundations” for their claims. Yet a good bit of my evidence will be drawn from the work of philosophers. Am I contradicting myself? Obviously, I do not think so, and that for two reasons. First, philosophers and theologians may sometimes wrestle with analogous problems, and when that happens, they can on occasion learn from one another without thereby presupposing any general theory about the relation of philosophy and theology. If something a philosopher has said happens to give me as a theologian a good idea, nothing necessarily follows about the priority of philosophy to theology.

Second, the claims I want to make for how Christian theology ought to go about its work need not ultimately depend on my philosophical evidence. Christians must remain faithful to their own vision of things for reasons internal to Christian faith, and if, in some contexts, that means intellectual isolation, so be it. In the contemporary intellectual context, I want to argue, it need not lead to such isolation. If one can make wider connections while still speaking faithfully in one’s own voice, then that has some important implications for how to get on with the job at hand.

As examples of such implications, three issues will be considered—the relation between religion and science, dialogue among different religions, and theological method. As already noted, the last two chapters will examine these in detail, but it may be helpful to introduce them now as reminders of how the more abstract questions I will be discussing arise in practical contexts.

1. Religion and science. Since the beginning of the Enlightenment, the natural sciences have provided many in our culture with the model of good, clear thinking. Scientists, after all, seem to base their beliefs on evidence and argument: they don’t believe what they can’t prove. Religion, on the other hand, seems to rest on “faith.” It is hard to imagine “proving” a religious claim, and therefore religion seems false, meaningless, or at least very peculiar. Quite apart from any other problems about “dialogue between science and religion,” given this account, it is hard to think why a scientist would want to bother talking to a theologian.

The philosopher A. J. Ayer speaks for many when he proclaims, “I believe in science. That is, I believe that a theory about the way the world works is not acceptable unless it is confirmed by the facts, and I believe that the only way to discover what the facts are is by empirical observation.”³ Many of us grow up learning an account of modern intellectual history as the story of the steady triumph of science over superstition and ignorance.

Theology fares badly in such a story; indeed, one classic account of these matters is frankly entitled A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom,⁴ and its author consistently and vividly paints scientists as the war’s heroes and theologians as its obscurantist villains. As one of the few scholars well trained in both fields describes “the popular stereotype”: “The scientist makes precise observations and then employs logical reasoning; if such a procedure is to be adopted in all fields of enquiry, should not religion be dismissed as prescientific superstition?”⁵ Little surprise, then, that a good number of the leading scientists and social scientists of our time should have signed a Humanist Manifesto declaring, “We believe . . . that traditional dogmatic or authoritarian religions that place revelation, God, ritual, or creed above human needs and experience do a disservice to the human species. Any account of nature should pass the tests of scientific evidence; in our judgment, the dogmas and myths of traditional religions do not do so.”⁶

When one talks to philosophers of science or sophisticated working scientists these days, however, one discovers that many such contrasts between science and religion assume far too simple a picture of scientific method. Science itself turns out to be a surprisingly pluralistic affair, and some of those who talk about its methods even use terms like “faith” and “conversion.” It does not follow that science is “just like” religion, but at least science too begins with assumptions and operates within a tradition or traditions. No one can escape the problems of pluralism and discover “universality” and “objectivity” simply by appealing to scientific method.

2. The “other religions.” Increasingly in Western societies, we get to know people with a wide range of religious beliefs or none at all: not just Christians and Jews, but Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, atheists, and others. At least some from each group seem intelligent, thoughtful folk. In such circumstances, members of any religious community o...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half title
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface
• 1. Introduction
• 2. Foundations
• 3. Science
• 4. Witchcraft
• 5. Liberalism
• 6. Relativism
• 7. Conversation
• 8. Truth
• 9. Dialogues
• 10. Theology
• Index of Names