Monday, October 26, 2015

Moltmann, Whitehead, & Process Theology

For the last few years, I have done a fair amount of work with the theology of Jurgen Moltmann and the process philosophy of Whitehead. I even wrote my masters thesis on the ecotheologies of Moltmann and John Cobb. Before that, I wrote a paper for a course on Whitehead that explored the ways that Moltmann appropriated the former's cosmology in various ways. It was a paper that I was proud of, but it needed quite a bit of work before I was comfortable sharing it. I did, however, post a portion of the paper on this blog (until recently), which was titled "Is Moltmann a Process Theologian?" (the short answer: no, but he does affirm open theism and elements of Whitehead's cosmology).

I have finally had a reason to thoroughly rewrite that paper over recent weeks and have decided to share it on my Academia profile. It now includes a more substantive analysis of Moltmann's post-Barthian methodology and what I think is a far more nuanced reading of Whitehead's metaphysics (thanks largely to my studies with both Catherine Keller and Roland Faber). For Moltmann and Whitehead nerds: while the paper draws most heavily on the former's God in Creation and the latter's Process and Reality, I engage most of their major publications in the paper.

In just one month, I'll be at AAR in Atlanta and am really looking forward to hearing Moltmann speak at the Homebrewed Christianity event on Friday and the open and relational theologies group over the weekend. Especially if you plan to be there too, maybe this essay will prove interesting or even helpful for you as you gear up to engage one of the world's greatest living theologians.

READ THE ESSAY HERE: "God & Creation in Process: Moltmann's Critical Appropriation of Whitehead's Cosmology"

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Altizer's Death of God Theology

It was in the spring of 1966 that radical death of God theology broke through the academic barrier and into the awareness of the general public in the United States. On the cover of what turned out to be its best-selling issue at the time, Time Magazine featured the controversial words, “Is God Dead?” The magazine article explored the challenges that modernity posed to faith and theology, including the rise of secularism and the natural sciences, which seemed to increasingly make God an unnecessary idea to make sense of the world. The leading death of God theologian, Thomas J.J. Altizer (b.1927) was also briefly mentioned in the article as proceeding to do theology without God. Altizer even received death threats in response to his theological claims, which are perhaps most clearly expressed in his 2002 book, The New Gospel of Christian Atheism (a revision of his 1966 manifesto, The Gospel of Christian Atheism). As Altizer explains in the book’s preface, his goal is to explicate the “most radical ‘dogmatic’ theology, one that attempts to discover the death of God as the very essence of the Christian faith, and to do so by unveiling a uniquely Christian crucifixion as apocalypse itself” (viii). But despite the negativity that drives Altizer’s project (a concept that is indeed crucial for him), he argues that the apocalyptic negation of the transcendent God makes “possible an ultimate affirmation and an ultimate joy” in life (x, my emphases). Perhaps more surprising is that Altizer’s work is not only joyful, but profoundly Christocentric – and arguably just as much as Barth’s theology. For in Altizer’s thinking, the Crucified Christ is indeed the very center of history and the absolute Incarnation of the Godhead.

The central philosophical sources for Altizer’s theology are undoubtedly Hegel and Nietzsche, followed by Heidegger and Kierkegaard. He often draws on the poetry of William Blake, Melville’s Moby Dick, and Joyce’s Finnegans Wake. Altizer also engages three of the most revolutionary Christian theologians: Augustine, Luther, and Barth. His radical theology is thus a critical synthesis of some of the most challenging thinkers in Western philosophy, literature, and theology. While this can make for difficult reading at times, if one can discern the basic narrative at the core of Altizer’s project – which is inspired by his radical interpretation of the bible – the essence of his death of God theology can be grasped.

It is important to note that Altizer does not oppose Christian faith, but rather “manifest” Christianity (i.e., “Christendom”). He is a radical theologian for the sake of a “new Christianity” that challenges the “old Christianity” of orthodoxy. For Altizer, orthodoxy is profoundly reactionary, and even anti-Christian in its efforts to cling to a primordial ground. It is thus a denial of the apocalyptic origins of Christianity, the very opposite of the orthodox desire to return to a primordial ground: it is the forward-moving affirmation of the radically new in history, the “absolute novum” (26). Focusing on the crucifixion, Altizer claims it reveals “death [as] absolute in Christianity…only the ending or death of the old creation makes possible the new creation, and Paul knows that ending as occurring in the Crucifixion, a crucifixion thereby manifest as apocalypse itself. This is the very apocalypse that is renewed in a new Christianity…but now death is total as it never is in…ancient Christianity, a totality of death inaugurated by the very advent of the modern world, and one only consummated in our world” (30). Despite the Christocentric particularity of this death, it is only with the birth of the modern world that the death of God becomes truly universal. Indeed, secular modernity is to be understood as “a repetition or renewal of the Crucifixion [that] universalizes the Crucifixion” (31). This points to the Hegelian-Nietzschean narrative of Altizer’s theology: in the Incarnation, the transcendent Godhead absolutely empties Godself (kenosis) into the human Jesus, and literally dies in the Crucifixion (contra the orthodox belief that only the human nature of Jesus suffered and died). God thus becomes absolutely immanent Spirit in the world after the negation of abstract “heavenly transcendence” in the Crucifixion (45, 54).

While this is a certain kind of “atheism”, Altizer specifically argues for the death of every “given or manifest God” (52, my emphases). Having become absolutely immanent, the resurrected Spirit is now “truly all in all” and “identified with actuality itself,” Altizer writes (53). His Christian atheism is thus difficult to distinguish from pantheism. Indeed, Altizer claims that Spinoza’s pantheism becomes truly “comprehensive” with Hegel’s Absolute Spirit (54, 77-78). Thus in Altizer’s reading of Hegel, the concept of Resurrection is rendered “unrecognizable” for Christian orthodoxy (56), because it is inseparable from Crucifixion and now signifies “an absolutely transfigured God, a God who is pure and total immanence as opposed to pure and total transcendence” (57). This is the final “ending [of] every beyond” (61), of every primordial ground: an absolute “No” to the nihilistic powers of transcendence and an absolute “Yes” to embodied life (66).

Barth’s “Christomonism” also prepared the way for Altizer’s Christian atheism. Barth made “impossible any Neoplatonic understanding of the Godhead” because he banished “every understanding of God that is not an understanding of Christ” (82). And yet Altizer believes that Barth did not go far enough, because he still remained partly Neo-Platonic with ancient Christianity in his view of “Godhead itself as absolutely primordial…whose primordial movement is understood as the movement of eternal return, as manifest in the Trinity itself.” By contrast, Altizer claims that it was Hegel who thought the Trinity most purely in terms of absolute apocalypse rather than primordial ground: “a death of the Father releasing the totality of the crucifixion of the Son, and one wherein the Father passes wholly into the Son, but whose culmination is that resurrection that is the advent of the final age of the Spirit…an absolutely immanent Spirit” (83-85). Following Nietzsche’s critique of Christianity as the reversal of the “life-giving” gospel of Jesus – because its logic produces extreme guilt and impotent passivity in humanity, rather than freedom and empowerment – Altizer argues that the self-annihilation of God releases the liberating gospel of Jesus from oppressive and alienating theistic transcendence, which Altizer identifies as “Satan” (following Blake, 94-96).

There is much to admire in Altizer’s radical theology, although I found myself struggling with his frequent use of words like “absolute,” “total”, “complete”, “purely”, “ultimate”, “comprehensive”, “wholly”, “final”, etc. To be sure, this totalizing style flows out of his Hegelian-apocalyptic thinking. But I do not share his confidence that history has “absolutely” moved toward secularism, or that modernity “finally” killed God. Not only are such teleological metanarratives difficult to maintain from a postmodern perspective, but religion is also a more complex phenomenon than Altizer acknowledges. Furthermore, the concepts of transcendence and immanence remain unclear in his work. I wonder: in what sense is God now immanent in the world? Why would the death of the transcendent God lead to pan/atheistic immanence rather than a finite God of some sort (as in William James or Henry Nelson Weiman)? Is it really the case that God must totally die for the sake of human liberation? Or is the problem less that God is transcendent (in some sense) than that God is often uncritically viewed as an all-determining, moralistic, and exclusively male despot? This continues to be the response to Altizer’s work from many process and feminist theologians, who are otherwise sympathetic with much of his thinking. As Catherine Keller has suggested, perhaps “God is not dead, but becoming.” With this in mind, perhaps "radical theology" - broadly defined - need not depend on the absolute death of God.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Reflecting on Karl Rahner's Theology

In the 20th century, Karl Rahner (1904-1984) was for Roman Catholic theology what Karl Barth was for Protestant theology, and some have even placed him in line with the greatest theologians, such as Aquinas and Schleiermacher (see Roger Olson, The Journey of Modern Theology, 550). His work continues to be discussed throughout the Catholic world, beyond the context of Europe and North America. For example, during my visit to El Salvador in early 2015, a number of Catholic activists who I spoke to referenced Rahner (alongside liberation theologians like Sobrino and Gutierrez, of course) as crucial to their own Christian thinking. Indeed, both Catholics and Protestants are often impressed by Rahner’s efforts to strike a balance between traditional Catholic dogma and modernism (i.e., post-Enlightenment philosophies, biblical criticism, history of religions, the natural sciences, etc.). Like Paul Tillich, Rahner was therefore a mediating theologian who recognized the “pluralism” and “fragmentation” of theology in modernity, while nevertheless arguing for a robust conception of Christian existence (FCF, 7). As such, Rahner hoped to give “an intellectually honest justification of Christian faith” (FCF, xii), and claimed that theology succeeds only when it makes “contact with the total secular self-understanding which man has in a particular epoch” (FCF, 7-8). As these quotes indicate, Rahner and Tillich share strikingly similar theological positions. This is due in part to their common philosophical sources, namely the works of Martin Heidegger and German idealists, which infuse their theologies with certain existentialist and mystical sensibilities (FCF, 24).

Perhaps Rahner’s most well known position is that persons of other religious traditions can be considered “anonymous Christians”, and thus ultimately included within salvation through Christ. He is also frequently quoted for his embrace of Christian mysticism: “In the days ahead, you will either be a mystic (one who has experienced God for real) or nothing at all.” Rahner’s inclusivism and mysticism point to one of the defining characteristics of his theology: a core concern to overcome any sharp dualism between God and creation. Rahner thus offered an intriguing doctrine of God in Foundations of Christian Faith that aimed to balance revelation and reason, transcendence and immanence. This did not result in a loss of God’s radical otherness. On the contrary, although Rahner viewed God as the “innermost center of our existence” (FCF, 12), he also spoke of God as absolute “mystery” and “abyss” (FCF, 2-3, 42).

Like most Catholic theologians, Rahner affirmed a certain kind of natural theology: that God can be partially known outside of special revelation: “theology itself implies a philosophical anthropology which enables [the] message of grace to be accepted” (25). For Rahner, there is indeed an essential “point of contact” between God and the creature. He thus disagreed with Barth’s “too narrowly Christological approach,” and advocated a transcendental theological method that begins with an analysis of human existence. This existential analysis ultimately demonstrated for Rahner that all humans have an “unthematic” knowledge of divinity as the absolute mystery of existence (FCF, 13, 18, 21). This is not an “objectifying” knowledge of God, and it is insufficient without the explicitly “thematic knowledge” of God derived from religious activity (FCF, 53). But thematic knowledge (i.e., revelation) requires an unthematic ground in order to be received, Rahner believed. He even claimed that this existential argument for the existence of God is “the one proof” that is legitimate, while all other “reflexive” arguments for God (whether cosmological, moral, etc.) only serve as necessary pointers to or clarifications of God as existential ground (71).

Thus Rahner paradoxically concluded that “holy mystery” is that which is “most self-evident,” because it is the presupposed ground for human knowledge of anything. Without this mysterious ground that gives everything existence, human comprehension of the world would be impossible: “Man is a transcendent being insofar as all of his knowledge and all of his conscious activity is grounded in a pre-apprehension of ‘being’ as such...” (33). But with Heidegger, Rahner maintained that this pre-thematic awareness of the ground of existence is always indirect and “never captured by metaphysical reflection.” It can be approached “if at all, in mystical experience and perhaps in the experience of final loneliness in the face of death.” (35). Thus in God’s radical immanence as the ground of existence, God remains simultaneously transcendent to the creature (58).

But why must this ground be named “God”? Part of Rahner’s surprisingly simple answer is that “God” is that enduring historical name for the uniting ground of reality, which humans necessarily wonder about as finite beings. In other words, “God” provides the most reasonable answer to the ontological question: “why is there something rather than nothing?” While Rahner thus identified God with Being-itself – as “holy mystery” – he admitted that one might call the ground of being “a thousand other names,” apart from thematic knowledge of God in Christ (60). This point raised some questions for me at this crucial moment in Rahner’s argument: why is it necessary to view the world as grounded in an original “unity” of Being at all, as Rahner claimed? Why not a differential abyss (Derrida), an unconscious ocean of virtual singularities (Deleuze), or a process of becoming without origin or final goal (Whitehead)? Why must existence be grounded in an original cosmic purpose, as Rahner claimed, rather than ungrounded in sheer chance? Can Rahner truly justify his Christian appropriation of Heidegger’s nontheistic ontology while yet transforming it into a kind of panentheism (this is always a problem for Heidggerian theologians – e.g., John Macquarrie)? I simply do not see how any existential analysis of humans “proves” that either God or unity grounds all of reality.

Although Rahner claimed to have avoided ontotheology by denying explicit conceptual knowledge of Being-itself (much like Tillich), he nevertheless attributed to it – without any apparent justification – a quasi-teleological function of unity (FCF, 64). How is this not thematic/conceptual knowledge of Being/God? This logocentric assumption that the world’s finite multiplicities are ultimately grounded in and derived from an original unity remains highly contestable, to say the least. I actually found this same rationalistic assumption in Wolfhart Pannenberg’s Systematic Theology I, in which he appropriates Rahner’s notion of an unthematic knowledge of God as uniting ground of being. Perhaps this is the enduring legacy of Hegel’s rationalism in so much European theology: that unity must be primordial, while difference is derivative. But in my view, this rationalistic-monotheistic assumption can only be defended (if at all) on the “grounds” of special revelation – and thus on a groundless risk of faith. Even so, I am not convinced that theology necessarily collapses into either total fideism or chaotic relativism when it departs from Rahner by more thoroughly resisting ontotheological temptations.