In my previous posting I said some negative things about relativism, and now I am writing more about why I think relativism is objectionable and should be rejected.
First, a definition of the term: Relativism is the idea that there is no absolute truth and that, consequently, all truth is relative to the culture or the religion to which a person or group belongs. I take this as more of metaphysical statement than an epistemological one; that is, it refers primarily to the nature of reality not to the way one knows what is real. That distinction is important, because I do not think that one can be absolutely sure he or she knows the absolute truth--and I will be addressing that problem in a latter posting.
There certainly is relativity apparent in the way reality is understood. The way any of us view the world is largely dependent upon the culture or the religion to which we belong, that is, upon the community, large or small, which has formed the "plausibility structure" which informs our judgments.
But while affirming epistemological relativity, I reject the idea of pluralism that renounces the making of value judgments among different cultural or religious views because since all are relative all are (potentially) of equal validity. According to metaphysical relativism, there is no absolute Truth that people or groups just understand to varying degrees or in diverse ways.
Relativism is a growing phenomenon in the contemporary world. It is a central tenet of the postmodern worldview. But is it compatible with Christianity--at least Christianity as it has been generally understood and believed for the last two thousand years? I think not.
"The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church," it has been said (by Terullian, who died around 220 A.D.). But if through the centuries Christians had embraced relativism, there would have been no (or at least very few) martyrs. People don't willingly die for relative truths. If they had been relativists, Stephen, Peter (if the legend about his crucifixion is basically true), Polycarp, and a multitude of other Christians through the centuries would not have become martyrs--and Christianity would likely not have survived. If Luther and the other Reformers of the sixteenth century had been relativists, there would have been no Protestant Reformation.
Of course, some might say that Christians were martyred because of the absolutism of those who killed them--and that is, no doubt, partially true. But the absolutism of the Roman Empire--or the Roman Catholic Church--was opposed by those who believed that they had apprehended the Truth and who were willing to die, if necessary, for the sake of that Truth. That’s something no thoroughgoing relativist would likely do.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Saturday, September 5, 2009
What About Conflicting Truth Claims?
The question about conflicting truth claims was raised by the reader of this blog who has commented most often. It is an important issue, and one that merits careful attention.
There are three main ways that individuals or groups can respond to conflicting truth claims: (1) With criticism, rejection, and attacks upon truth claims that conflict with one's own. (2) With a "live-and-let-live" attitude that basically accepts truth claims different from one's own as more or less equally valid, and (3) With dialogue in which the nature of the conflicting claims is clarified and serious attention is given to the differences being discussed.
The first of these three approaches was the most common in the past, but it is an approach that should be rejected, as it has often led to animosity and to bloodshed. I reject any action in the name of truth that leads to violence.
The second approach is becoming more and more common, and certainly it is good for fostering peaceful relations with other people. But I have serious questions about and problems with the relativism and pluralism it spawns. (This is such a timely and important issue that I want to deal with it further in a later posting on this blog.)
The third, I believe, is by far the best position. It does not reject other truth claims to the extent of causing harm, but neither does it accept them without question. Except for cases where conflicting truth claims are clearly injurious to others, there is an openness to listen and even to learn from those espousing opposing views. For a Christian believer, this is especially true with regard to the faithful adherents of the main religious traditions of the world.
As I wrote in my comments posted on August 31, "dialogue is only possible where there are different viewpoints shared freely." Dialogue involves talking about differences more than about similarities. Careful analysis of those differences may show that some of them are superficial and can be harmonized. But other differences may well turn out to be substantial and unable of being disposed of easily.
John Hick, one of the examples of Christian liberalism that I introduce in my forthcoming book "The Limits of Liberalism," has a chapter called "The Conflicting Truth Claims of Different Religions" in his Philosophy of Religion (third edition, 1983). Hick concludes his chapter with these words: ". . . the great religious traditions of the world represent different human perceptions of and response to the same infinite divine Reality" (p. 121).
Hick's conclusion is no doubt true in many ways. But it does not answer all the questions. There are contradictory and conflicting claims that remain. As most of us know well, there are some remarkable conflicting truth claims between, say, fundamentalist and liberal Christians. So there are, naturally, often even greater conflicts between Christians and those in other faith traditions and especially between Christian believers and those who are atheists and/or complete secularists.
For the Christian thinker, to lash out against conflicting views with belligerence is not acceptable. But, neither, is a relativistic acceptance of conflicting or contradictory views. The hard work of dialogue and the continual search for, and witness to, the Truth is our obligatory task.
There are three main ways that individuals or groups can respond to conflicting truth claims: (1) With criticism, rejection, and attacks upon truth claims that conflict with one's own. (2) With a "live-and-let-live" attitude that basically accepts truth claims different from one's own as more or less equally valid, and (3) With dialogue in which the nature of the conflicting claims is clarified and serious attention is given to the differences being discussed.
The first of these three approaches was the most common in the past, but it is an approach that should be rejected, as it has often led to animosity and to bloodshed. I reject any action in the name of truth that leads to violence.
The second approach is becoming more and more common, and certainly it is good for fostering peaceful relations with other people. But I have serious questions about and problems with the relativism and pluralism it spawns. (This is such a timely and important issue that I want to deal with it further in a later posting on this blog.)
The third, I believe, is by far the best position. It does not reject other truth claims to the extent of causing harm, but neither does it accept them without question. Except for cases where conflicting truth claims are clearly injurious to others, there is an openness to listen and even to learn from those espousing opposing views. For a Christian believer, this is especially true with regard to the faithful adherents of the main religious traditions of the world.
As I wrote in my comments posted on August 31, "dialogue is only possible where there are different viewpoints shared freely." Dialogue involves talking about differences more than about similarities. Careful analysis of those differences may show that some of them are superficial and can be harmonized. But other differences may well turn out to be substantial and unable of being disposed of easily.
John Hick, one of the examples of Christian liberalism that I introduce in my forthcoming book "The Limits of Liberalism," has a chapter called "The Conflicting Truth Claims of Different Religions" in his Philosophy of Religion (third edition, 1983). Hick concludes his chapter with these words: ". . . the great religious traditions of the world represent different human perceptions of and response to the same infinite divine Reality" (p. 121).
Hick's conclusion is no doubt true in many ways. But it does not answer all the questions. There are contradictory and conflicting claims that remain. As most of us know well, there are some remarkable conflicting truth claims between, say, fundamentalist and liberal Christians. So there are, naturally, often even greater conflicts between Christians and those in other faith traditions and especially between Christian believers and those who are atheists and/or complete secularists.
For the Christian thinker, to lash out against conflicting views with belligerence is not acceptable. But, neither, is a relativistic acceptance of conflicting or contradictory views. The hard work of dialogue and the continual search for, and witness to, the Truth is our obligatory task.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
A Southern Baptist Creed?
In 2004 my wife and I were forced to resign as missionaries with the International Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) because we would not--could not in good conscience--sign that we would work "in accordance with and not contrary to" The Baptist Faith and Message (BF&M), 2000.
Our problem was not just with the content of the revised BF&M, we objected to it being used like a creed. As I wrote earlier, I have never been much of a supporter of creeds, especially when they are used for forcing conformity and getting rid of deviants. But that certainly seemed like the way the BF&M was being used. SBC employees either had to agree with it or resign, retire, or be terminated.
So, refusing to sign, we became Southern Baptist heretics--although, to my knowledge, that term was never used. It did mean, though, that we were unilaterally placed on retirement status, lost a year's salary, and also lost no telling how many invitations to preach in Southern Baptist churches back in Missouri and elsewhere.
So even though I wrote about creeds and heresy in my previous posts, creeds should not be used as the BF&M was--as a weapon to force conformity (or duplicity, as some signed the necessary statement in order to continue their missionary work while not agreeing with the revised content of the BF&M). Nor, as I suggested in the previous posting, should heretics be punished (although our "punishment" was certainly light compared to that of many considered heretics throughout the history of the church).
Actually, the use of the BF&M as a creed was worse than using the historical creeds as statements of orthodoxy. The addition of the words "the office of pastor is limited to men" was the main (but not the only) objection we had to the revised and amended BF&M. Unlike the creeds, though, which can be interpreted on different levels (such as the Ascension, which does not have to be affirmed as literal or physical), there is no interpretation possible for the statement denying the possibility of women in ministry.
So, even though the Southern Baptist Convention was my church home for sixty years, now that is is operating with a creed, I am glad to no longer be a part of that organization. (But, still, I feel some sadness, too, as it was my denominational home for so long.)
Our problem was not just with the content of the revised BF&M, we objected to it being used like a creed. As I wrote earlier, I have never been much of a supporter of creeds, especially when they are used for forcing conformity and getting rid of deviants. But that certainly seemed like the way the BF&M was being used. SBC employees either had to agree with it or resign, retire, or be terminated.
So, refusing to sign, we became Southern Baptist heretics--although, to my knowledge, that term was never used. It did mean, though, that we were unilaterally placed on retirement status, lost a year's salary, and also lost no telling how many invitations to preach in Southern Baptist churches back in Missouri and elsewhere.
So even though I wrote about creeds and heresy in my previous posts, creeds should not be used as the BF&M was--as a weapon to force conformity (or duplicity, as some signed the necessary statement in order to continue their missionary work while not agreeing with the revised content of the BF&M). Nor, as I suggested in the previous posting, should heretics be punished (although our "punishment" was certainly light compared to that of many considered heretics throughout the history of the church).
Actually, the use of the BF&M as a creed was worse than using the historical creeds as statements of orthodoxy. The addition of the words "the office of pastor is limited to men" was the main (but not the only) objection we had to the revised and amended BF&M. Unlike the creeds, though, which can be interpreted on different levels (such as the Ascension, which does not have to be affirmed as literal or physical), there is no interpretation possible for the statement denying the possibility of women in ministry.
So, even though the Southern Baptist Convention was my church home for sixty years, now that is is operating with a creed, I am glad to no longer be a part of that organization. (But, still, I feel some sadness, too, as it was my denominational home for so long.)
Saturday, August 29, 2009
What about Heresy?
If people now have trouble with creeds, as some of us do, many have even much more trouble with the idea of heresy. In fact, heresy is now generally seen as something so odious it is seldom mentioned in "polite" Christian circles.
"Whatever Became of Heresy?" is the title of one subsection in my forthcoming book "The Limits of Liberalism." As I write there, "throughout most of the history of Christianity, the treatment of heretics has been so harsh and so many 'heretics' have suffered so much that most of us in this age of tolerance and humane treatment for all naturally shy away from those pathetic practices of the past." But should we do away with the concept of heresy altogether?
Carl E. Braaten is a contemporary theologian who has dared to write about the necessity of keeping the concept of heresy. Braaten (b. 1929), an eminent Lutheran theologian who is conservative but not a fundamentalist, is the author of "That All May Believe: A Theology of the Gospel and the Mission of the Church" (2008). (I have a review of that book in the July 2009 issue of "Missiology: An International Review.")
In his book Braaten forwards what he calls “Evangelical Catholicism.” With that emphasis, he speaks for many (conservative) theologians and church leaders who believe that everything is not permitted. He thinks there are scriptural and creedal norms that must be regarded with utmost seriousness. I agree.
If there is a central Christian Story, as I have repeatedly affirmed on this blog, then believing Christians, as opposed to cultural Christians, can surely be expected to agree with the basic expression of that Story--as, perhaps we could say, expressed in the creeds. Those who do not or cannot in good conscience agree with that basic expression may then rightfully be labeled with that odious word "heretic."
Then the question becomes, What does the church, or what do Christian institutions, do with regard to those who appear to be "heretics"? Certainly, I do not believe that they should be punished, mistreated, or harmed in any way. Regardless of what people do or do not believe, they should be treated with respect, kindness, and consideration.
Because of all the negative baggage carried by the word “heretic,” perhaps a different term should be used altogether. But surely there needs to be some way to distinguish between those who are Christians because of what they believe and those who are Christians because of their cultural identification but who do not, or who no longer, hold to the central Christian beliefs.
One final caveat: it must be remembered that while the word "creed" comes from the Latin "credo," meaning "I believe," the New Testament perspective on belief has far more to do with a life commitment to Jesus Christ as Lord than to intellectual assent to doctrinal propositions.
"Whatever Became of Heresy?" is the title of one subsection in my forthcoming book "The Limits of Liberalism." As I write there, "throughout most of the history of Christianity, the treatment of heretics has been so harsh and so many 'heretics' have suffered so much that most of us in this age of tolerance and humane treatment for all naturally shy away from those pathetic practices of the past." But should we do away with the concept of heresy altogether?
Carl E. Braaten is a contemporary theologian who has dared to write about the necessity of keeping the concept of heresy. Braaten (b. 1929), an eminent Lutheran theologian who is conservative but not a fundamentalist, is the author of "That All May Believe: A Theology of the Gospel and the Mission of the Church" (2008). (I have a review of that book in the July 2009 issue of "Missiology: An International Review.")
In his book Braaten forwards what he calls “Evangelical Catholicism.” With that emphasis, he speaks for many (conservative) theologians and church leaders who believe that everything is not permitted. He thinks there are scriptural and creedal norms that must be regarded with utmost seriousness. I agree.
If there is a central Christian Story, as I have repeatedly affirmed on this blog, then believing Christians, as opposed to cultural Christians, can surely be expected to agree with the basic expression of that Story--as, perhaps we could say, expressed in the creeds. Those who do not or cannot in good conscience agree with that basic expression may then rightfully be labeled with that odious word "heretic."
Then the question becomes, What does the church, or what do Christian institutions, do with regard to those who appear to be "heretics"? Certainly, I do not believe that they should be punished, mistreated, or harmed in any way. Regardless of what people do or do not believe, they should be treated with respect, kindness, and consideration.
Because of all the negative baggage carried by the word “heretic,” perhaps a different term should be used altogether. But surely there needs to be some way to distinguish between those who are Christians because of what they believe and those who are Christians because of their cultural identification but who do not, or who no longer, hold to the central Christian beliefs.
One final caveat: it must be remembered that while the word "creed" comes from the Latin "credo," meaning "I believe," the New Testament perspective on belief has far more to do with a life commitment to Jesus Christ as Lord than to intellectual assent to doctrinal propositions.
Monday, August 24, 2009
What about Creeds?
As a "born and bred" Bible-believing Baptist, I never had much use for the Christian creeds--and in many ways I still don't. I have never been the member of a church that regularly, or even occasionally, used one of the Christian creeds as a part of worship.
Actually, my problem with the creeds has been not in what they say but in the way they have been used. When creeds are used as summaries of vital Christian doctrine and expressions of common faith, they are not only acceptable but also valuable. But when creeds are used to enforce conformity and to eliminate diverse views they become problematical.
The Apostles' Creed is widely used in the Roman Catholic, Anglican, and many Protestant Churches. The longest part of that creed is about Jesus:
I believe in Jesus Christ, God's only Son, our Lord,
That statement, as well as its amplification in the Nicene Creed, expresses the heart of the Christian Story--and it is hard to see how people could really be considered "believing" Christians if they do not affirm this central part of the creed. But does that mean we all have to interpret each part of it in the same manner--in a literal, factual manner? I think not.
How many of us today could possibly affirm, for example, that Jesus ascended in a physical body from this earth to a physical heaven in some sort of "three-story" universe? But does that mean that we should remove that phrase from the creed? Again, I think not. While we now will need to interpret it in a metaphorical rather than a literal manner, the assertion of Jesus' ascension is not without significant theological content.
So, the creeds are good as summaries; they are dangerous as weapons. The use of the creeds must allow room for diverse interpretations, but they are to be affirmed as valuable expressions of the core of the central Christian Story.
Actually, my problem with the creeds has been not in what they say but in the way they have been used. When creeds are used as summaries of vital Christian doctrine and expressions of common faith, they are not only acceptable but also valuable. But when creeds are used to enforce conformity and to eliminate diverse views they become problematical.
The Apostles' Creed is widely used in the Roman Catholic, Anglican, and many Protestant Churches. The longest part of that creed is about Jesus:
I believe in Jesus Christ, God's only Son, our Lord,
- who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
- born of the Virgin Mary,
- suffered under Pontius Pilate,
- was crucified, died, and was buried;
- he descended to the dead.
- On the third day he rose again;
- he ascended into heaven,
- he is seated at the right hand of the Father,
- and he will come to judge the living and the dead.
That statement, as well as its amplification in the Nicene Creed, expresses the heart of the Christian Story--and it is hard to see how people could really be considered "believing" Christians if they do not affirm this central part of the creed. But does that mean we all have to interpret each part of it in the same manner--in a literal, factual manner? I think not.
How many of us today could possibly affirm, for example, that Jesus ascended in a physical body from this earth to a physical heaven in some sort of "three-story" universe? But does that mean that we should remove that phrase from the creed? Again, I think not. While we now will need to interpret it in a metaphorical rather than a literal manner, the assertion of Jesus' ascension is not without significant theological content.
So, the creeds are good as summaries; they are dangerous as weapons. The use of the creeds must allow room for diverse interpretations, but they are to be affirmed as valuable expressions of the core of the central Christian Story.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Are Historical Religions Better?
This is my response to the second issue raised by a "thinking friend"(TF) on August 13 (and repeated in different words in another e-mail message of August 20). My response to the first issue was in "Is There One Christian Story" posted on August 18.
In part, my TF wrote: "There seems to be a hint of judgment in noting the story-less tradition of Buddhism as compared to our 'decisive' faith story. Is an 'historical' religion better? If so, why?"
Regardless of what I think about the merits of "the Christian story"--and I continue to maintain that in spite of all the differences there is an overarching story which not only unites all Christians at some level but also definitely makes Christianity a historical religion--I in no way think that being historical in itself makes Christianity superior to non-historical religions.
On the other hand, those who are adherents of non-historical religions (or a mystical, non-historical version of "Christianity") are usually clear in their contention that religious faiths focussing on "eternal truths" are superior to any religion based upon historical events. The Buddhist scholars with whom I regularly had dialogue in Japan left little doubt about direct contact with Ultimate Reality bring better than any reliance upon historical events.
As I write in the seventh chapter of my forthcoming book "The Limits of Liberalism," "Gotthold Ephriam Lessing (1729-81) was one of the outstanding philosophers of the Enlightenment era. In an essay published in 1777, he wrote that 'accidental truths of history can never become the proof of necessary truths of reason,' and he went on to declare that such a situation is 'the ugly, broad ditch which I cannot get across, however often and however earnestly I have tried to make the leap.'”
In other words, Lessing denies that historical events can lead to universal or ultimate truths. And so do many who are not adherents of a historical faith such as Christianity.
So, regardless of my personal beliefs, Christianity has through the centuries been considered a historical religion by most people who have a thorough understanding of it. This says nothing, though, about the relative value of that position. It does mean, though, that many who have a non-historical religious faith are often dismissive of Christianity partly, or largely, because it is a religion based upon a historical story.
In part, my TF wrote: "There seems to be a hint of judgment in noting the story-less tradition of Buddhism as compared to our 'decisive' faith story. Is an 'historical' religion better? If so, why?"
Regardless of what I think about the merits of "the Christian story"--and I continue to maintain that in spite of all the differences there is an overarching story which not only unites all Christians at some level but also definitely makes Christianity a historical religion--I in no way think that being historical in itself makes Christianity superior to non-historical religions.
On the other hand, those who are adherents of non-historical religions (or a mystical, non-historical version of "Christianity") are usually clear in their contention that religious faiths focussing on "eternal truths" are superior to any religion based upon historical events. The Buddhist scholars with whom I regularly had dialogue in Japan left little doubt about direct contact with Ultimate Reality bring better than any reliance upon historical events.
As I write in the seventh chapter of my forthcoming book "The Limits of Liberalism," "Gotthold Ephriam Lessing (1729-81) was one of the outstanding philosophers of the Enlightenment era. In an essay published in 1777, he wrote that 'accidental truths of history can never become the proof of necessary truths of reason,' and he went on to declare that such a situation is 'the ugly, broad ditch which I cannot get across, however often and however earnestly I have tried to make the leap.'”
In other words, Lessing denies that historical events can lead to universal or ultimate truths. And so do many who are not adherents of a historical faith such as Christianity.
So, regardless of my personal beliefs, Christianity has through the centuries been considered a historical religion by most people who have a thorough understanding of it. This says nothing, though, about the relative value of that position. It does mean, though, that many who have a non-historical religious faith are often dismissive of Christianity partly, or largely, because it is a religion based upon a historical story.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Is There One Christian Story?
I received some significant responses to my blog entry for August 11, and one "thinking friend" raised questions about two issues so important I feel I must respond to them--to one in this post and to the other later.
The first issue is concerning the great diversity within Christianity. Is, as my respondent wrote, Christianity so diverse with so many different interpretations that, "just like other traditions," Christianity has many stories rather than being a story? Thus, "rather than our strength being in a common, singular story, our strength may be in the multiple 'stories' understood by the various Christian traditions, denominations, sects, etc."
Certainly, there is no question that there is great diversity within Christianity. There are multiple differences between various forms of the faith now and there are great differences between the bulk of Christians now and Christians of one hundred, five hundred, one thousand, or fifteen hundred years ago--to say nothing of the differences between Christians now and those of the early Church.
But, are there multiple stories? Or is there only a great variety in the way one central story is understood, explained, and followed? In spite of all the diversity, I am firmly convinced that there is, in fact, a central Christian story. Moreover, it is belief in and commitment to that story that makes one a Christian, in the sense of being a Christian believer. (There is and has been for a very long time "cultural Christians," people who are Christians because of their birth and cultural connections; the multitude of people like that are to be distinguished from those who are Christian believers, that is, people who have committed their lives to the lordship of Jesus Christ and are seeking to live accordingly.)
The Bible, for all its diversity, is primarily one overarching story much more than a book of teachings, of "eternal truths." The classic Christian creeds have been used and are used today by millions of Christians. Interpretations of the creeds vary greatly, but there is allegiance to the centrality of the creeds as summaries of the Christian faith--of the one, central Christian story.
For the past three years I have taught one of the required theology courses at Rockhurst University in Kansas City. The textbook I have used is Hans Küng's massive "Christianity: Essence, History, Future" (1995). He writes about the six different Christian paradigms and the great differences between those six basic expressions of Christianity. But he continually emphasizes the commonality that is found in all types of Christianity in all eras.
I think Küng is entirely correct in his assertion about the essential commonality of Christianity. In spite of all the variance in the way it is interpreted and explained, there is, indeed, one overarching Christian story.
The first issue is concerning the great diversity within Christianity. Is, as my respondent wrote, Christianity so diverse with so many different interpretations that, "just like other traditions," Christianity has many stories rather than being a story? Thus, "rather than our strength being in a common, singular story, our strength may be in the multiple 'stories' understood by the various Christian traditions, denominations, sects, etc."
Certainly, there is no question that there is great diversity within Christianity. There are multiple differences between various forms of the faith now and there are great differences between the bulk of Christians now and Christians of one hundred, five hundred, one thousand, or fifteen hundred years ago--to say nothing of the differences between Christians now and those of the early Church.
But, are there multiple stories? Or is there only a great variety in the way one central story is understood, explained, and followed? In spite of all the diversity, I am firmly convinced that there is, in fact, a central Christian story. Moreover, it is belief in and commitment to that story that makes one a Christian, in the sense of being a Christian believer. (There is and has been for a very long time "cultural Christians," people who are Christians because of their birth and cultural connections; the multitude of people like that are to be distinguished from those who are Christian believers, that is, people who have committed their lives to the lordship of Jesus Christ and are seeking to live accordingly.)
The Bible, for all its diversity, is primarily one overarching story much more than a book of teachings, of "eternal truths." The classic Christian creeds have been used and are used today by millions of Christians. Interpretations of the creeds vary greatly, but there is allegiance to the centrality of the creeds as summaries of the Christian faith--of the one, central Christian story.
For the past three years I have taught one of the required theology courses at Rockhurst University in Kansas City. The textbook I have used is Hans Küng's massive "Christianity: Essence, History, Future" (1995). He writes about the six different Christian paradigms and the great differences between those six basic expressions of Christianity. But he continually emphasizes the commonality that is found in all types of Christianity in all eras.
I think Küng is entirely correct in his assertion about the essential commonality of Christianity. In spite of all the variance in the way it is interpreted and explained, there is, indeed, one overarching Christian story.
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