Archive for the 'Religion' Category

The New Christian Values

In an op-ed article a few years back, Zizek mentions the following story:

During the Seventh Crusade, led by St. Louis, Yves le Breton reported how he once encountered an old woman who wandered down the street with a dish full of fire in her right hand and a bowl full of water in her left hand. Asked why she carried the two bowls, she answered that with the fire she would burn up Paradise until nothing remained of it, and with the water she would put out the fires of Hell until nothing remained of them: “Because I want no one to do good in order to receive the reward of Paradise, or from fear of Hell; but solely out of love for God.” Today, this properly Christian ethical stance survives mostly in atheism.

From the perspective of social change, Christianity — especially that in America — has largely lost its humanitarian mission to the world to show love. This isn’t to say that American Christians do not participate in mission work or give to humanitarian causes. However, Christianity has done so largely to ‘save lost souls’, or out of a fear of some kind of tormented Hell. The pockets of people that do humanitarian projects solely because of some profound ‘love’ or for humanitarian reasons happen to largely be nonreligious. Christianity has been succeeded by the post-Christian, secular world which has promoted ‘Christian’ values better than the Christians. To put this in a more provocative way: in order to love humanity because of divine love, one must be an atheist.

Notes on Techno-Religion

I was involved in an ESF-sponsored workshop on technology and religion this past week. While the discussion focused on communicative technologies and media, we did drift at times beyond that. Here are some scribbles and notes of mine from the various sessions.

Mediation

Our first session started with Birgit Meyer and Bengt Kristensson Uggla. Conceiving of media as something external to religion makes questions regarding the intersection of the two unanswerable. However, if media is seen as being embedded within religion, these issues are transformed into understandable practices. Media, then, is able to mediate religious thoughts and beliefs. In this way, media become sacralised so that mediation is made immanent and the gap between and believer and the transcendent is significantly reduced. This immediacy, mitigated through semiotic ideology, denies media as media and leads to its being externalised. It may be a good idea to think of theology as a theory of mediation. Lastly, technology makes globalisation immediately local (again, mediation).

Identity

The second session was led by Siegfried Zielinski and Jan-Olav Henriksen (sorry, this one is in Norwegian). One important thing to keep in mind is that media as a generalised concept did not arise until the mid-20th century (i.e. the last 50-60 years). Communicative technologies existed prior to that (obviously), but these were particulars. Today’s globalisation is seeing the harmonisation and unification of media so that the different technologies appear seamless. Electricity has become the ‘soul’ of ‘new media’, animating it as a machine. Machines always reduce complexity and mediate between two objects. It used to be that we humans had to believe in machines in order for them to work (i.e. by turning a switch, etc); but now machines have returned the favour by believing in us to animate them (e.g. interactive games, television, etc). On the other hand, religion provides a chain of memory–however fragmented and disjointed it may be. This is mediated by technology. However, technology can create a sensory excess that creates a feeling of divine presence without that chain of memory. In other words, technology has made it possible for one to participate in a religious community without ‘really’ participating in that community (e.g. Yoga videos in YouTube that provide simple instruction without the ‘full Yoga experience’). As Zielinski noted,  one is ‘always the same, never myself’ (his own reversal of the Calvin Klein tag line ‘Always myself, never the same’).

Secularisation

The third session was presented by Ola Sigurdson, Jayne Svenungsson, and Lieven Boeve. It is quite clear that religion isn’t ‘returning’ because it never left in the first place. The ‘privatisation’ of religion has led to a loss of body and particularity as religion loses its institutional form (c.f. Olivier Roy’s Globalised Islam). This ‘private religion’ turns religion into a fetish. In fact, this new ‘personalised’ religion has transformed religious pilgrimages such that the relics now go to the people instead of the people going to the relics. Technology isn’t showing us a ‘post-secular’ world (as in a ‘return of religion’) but rather a transformation of religion in the public space, particularly in the cases of extremist religious groups which have found new solidarity and strength in the techno-globalised world.

Revolutions

The fourth session was led by Caroline Vander Stichele, Ward Blanton, and Edmund Arens. Echoing the sentiment of the first session of technology being closely tied to religion, this session dealt with looking at religious revolutions based on technological revolutions. One example is that of Yoga in the West as a practice originally separated from its Hindu roots. However, it has become its own consumer-driven religion in which one can get meditative tranquility instantly. Another example, is Augustine’s discussion of the divine postal network (e.g. messenger angels, etc) in relation to his understanding of the Roman Empire’s postal network. Religion needs to be addressed as a communicative practice of memory and narrative. The danger of a consumer-driven religion is, as I mentioned above, the kind of (private) participation without (public) participation. Religion must occur in both the public and the private sphere.

Subjectivity

The final session was led by Arne Grøn and Anne Kull. Subjectivity is the key notion to formulate the problems above (between religion and society) as it gets directly at the concept of identity construction both in relation to the world and the self. In expressing oneself, one exteriorises oneself and bridges the divide between the public and private spheres. Public life is only possibile if it acknowledges a private life as well. Religion, as a public activity, is a meta-sphere of visibility of publicised figures (i.e. private individuals). However, one should be wary to use the term ‘virtual’ in describing religion in the new media (e.g. online churches) because in one very real sense, all churches are ‘virtual’ as they represent the ‘real’ church in a locality. There must be a hermeneutics of subjectivity as it is implied by a phenomenological ontology (a la Heidegger).

Difference and Pluralism

This is a followup of sorts to a previous post, Against Exclusivism.

In David Tracy’s On Naming the Present, he follows Ricœur in arguing for a ‘second naiveté allied to a genuine openness to otherness and difference’. This is a call to pluralism with the alternative leading to a ‘Hobbesian state of war of all against all’.  Naiveté is exactly what it is, as this pluralism subjugates difference to identity so that difference itself is lost. Difference does not just exist; it exists outright and on its own (conceptual) merit. Deleuze argues early on (in Difference and Repetition) that being is difference. Tracy’s argument (and presumably Ricœur’s as well) rests on the philosophical framework that unites the concept of difference with the concept of distinction. In other words, it is a comparison of two different entities; in short, a comparison of identities. Deleuze’s philosophy of difference conceives of difference as something that exists prior to comparison and distinction (c.f. Levi Bryant). A call to pluralism must first conceive of difference in itself, as something intrinsic to an entity’s act of self-identification, as an ontological concept. Pluralism must be open to both simple distinction as well as difference as the ‘prior ground of distinction‘.

However, when this occurs, inter-religious dialogue (i.e. pluralism) itself becomes problematic. This is because openness to such dialogue requires a level of understanding that is not easily possible. Such level of understanding is based on the ability to relate distinctions to known concepts and identities. In other words, communicative understanding takes place within analogies at the contextual level, not within the words expressed at the textual/discursive level. Here is where the problematic of pluralism emerges. If other religious traditions are truly other, that is different, the comprehension at the contextual level is always flawed because it ultimately rests on a conceptual identification where difference is reduced to distinction. Historically, we can see this in the colonial period of religious studies where examples such as Western influences in India created Hinduism as a consolidated tradition, including the ‘trinitarian’ concept of Trimurti.* In the 1970s, Edward Said published Orientalism in which he argues that the Western representation and understanding of other cultures is flawed for reasons similar to what I have noted above. While many pluralists seem confident that we are able to move past these flaws, I take a more critical approach. Even contemporary postcolonial religious studies have kept these flaws. As Ian Almond recently wrote, ‘we have seen how the use [a religious tradition] is going to be put to automatically creates the identity it is going to have…The “otherness” control of [that tradition], like the volume control of any stereo or radio, can be turned up or down according to the required context’ (The New Orientalists, 195).

While pluralism may be possible, it seems clear that we have not yet been able to see other traditions as different. I believe this may be in part because inter-religious dialogue can only treat otherness as objects of apprehension. As an object of apprehension, difference is readily replaced with distinction as we attempt to relate to another tradition through our own identity. It is an implicit action that changes the dialogue into an excercise of relations (i.e. comparison and distinction). Perhaps a better avenue for such discourse is not to relate to other traditions but to discourse with them without apprehension. In other words, by following Blanchot’s remarks about reading and writing*, we can (re-)discover that comprehension occurs after the dialogue, after the discourse—not during. Understanding occurs after the event of communication.

—-

NB 1: cf. Susan Bayly, Caste, Society, and Politics in India: From the Eighteenth Century to the Modern Age and David Smith, Hinduism and Modernity

NB 2: Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of the Disaster

Against Exclusivism

In a recent discussion I had elsewhere, the topic of (Christian) salvation came up in the context of the Jewish people living before Christ. It seems to be a common Evangelical argument that at least some of these people (e.g. David, Moses, etc) were saved by Christ. However, I now take issue with this for a few reasons.

First and foremost is that the method by which ‘salvation’ is dispensed changed between OT Judaism and NT Christianity. To put it another way, the ‘OT saints’ did not believe that ‘accepting Christ as Lord and Saviour’ was the way. Sure, they may have believed in a forthcoming Christ, but their idea of this Christ would have been fundamentally different, as the Gospels clearly show that the Jewish people were not looking for a spiritual salvation but a political one. The Christian NT (and subsequent theology) fits with interpretations of OT texts only by re-interpreting these texts in light of the Christ-event. It is an intellectually dishonest claim to argue that the people up to the time of Christ read the texts in that light; it’s an anachronism. As a result of this, the OT beliefs regarding ‘salvation’ (if there were any at all) are very likely to be different than their NT counterparts.

Secondly and subsequently, if some people before the time of Christ were ‘saved’ (in the Christian sense), the person arguing such must admit she is not an exclusivist.* She must admit that people outside of the Christian religious faith are ‘saved’ in order to remain consistent. There are a few options that work, each of which I wish to address: (1) argue that ‘salvation’ comes from something other than a religious belief/faith, (2) accept some form of inclusivism,* (3) accept some form of pluralism.*

Real Faith Isn’t a Religion

I believe this may be the most popular opinion in Evangelical Christianity, as it seeks to differentiate between religious practices (which may be flawed) and ‘true saving faith’. This is a hybridisation of exclusivism and inclusivism by arguing that only people who follow the real faith (exclusivism) are ‘saved’ but that this real faith is not a single religious tradition (inclusivism). It is a short step from C.S. Lewis’s inclusivism he describes in The Last Battle.* However, there are two issues here that make this position untenable in my opinion. First, it can’t maintain its position as nonreligious with its call for proselytism/evangelism. If one must convert in order to ‘be saved’, then that set of beliefs are, in fact, religious. In other words, conversion is only necessary if there are wrong beliefs. Secondly (and less importantly), it must extend this position beyond just a few groups of people (i.e. post-Christ Christian and pre-Christ Jewish believers). In other words, it must also accept that Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, Jains, etc can be ‘true believers’ while remaining within their religious traditions both before and after Christ. The combination of these requires a view very close to that of pluralism, which has had some Evangelical Christian expressions recently from figures such as Brian McLaren.

Pluralism

In a nutshell, this position argues that no religious tradition is ‘more correct’ than another. Unlike its hybrid cousin above, it does not need to explain a particular notion of salvation for another tradition. Its one major fault is that it is incompatible with the history and traditions of Christian belief. Attempts to integrate it within some kind of ‘orthodox Christian belief’ ultimately fails because it must eject important pieces of historical Christianity or reinterpret them in order to succeed. As such, I am unable to accept it as a plausible resolution to the above situation.*

Inclusivism

In this context, inclusivism takes a form very similar to the hybrid position, as it argues that salvation comes only from ‘Christian’ belief. Its argument for OT Jewish believers, however, is quickly dissolved as it relies on the anachronistic reading of theology. It still has another option in arguing that even though these believers were not ‘Christian’, they happened (either by chance or by some divine intervention) to get enough concepts right to somehow have fallen into ‘Christian’ salvation before ‘Christianity’ existed (in the same way that one could argue that Augustine had fumbled into semiotics centuries before it was treated as such). Like the hybrid position, however, it must extend this belief to all people. However, unlike the hybrid, it is able to stand firmly within the field of inclusivism and accept a call to proselytism/evangelism without being backed into an intellectual corner. In other words, faith comes from some kind of theological revelation that is most easily found within the Christian tradition but not exclusively (either because of freak chance or by divine intervention). It is this position that I believe to be the only tenable response to the original situation. It is able to accept the possibility of people outside of the influence of the Christian tradition to have received the ‘right’ revelation while also being able to accept proselytism/evangelism.

—-

NB 1: For these terms, see here for my usage.
NB 2: For an description of this, see here.
NB 3: For a more sympathetic view to integrating Christianity with pluralism, I highly suggest reading John Hick’s works (e.g. God Has Many Names).

Atheigulous

I recently watched Bill Maher’s documentary Religulous. I had been interested in it for a while because I have a good deal of respect for Maher and both of his TV series (Politically Incorrect and Real Time). In one aspect, this show did a great analysis of the fundamentalist variety of religion. However, Maher also extends this analysis to all varieties of religion; and this argument follows the same reasoning that he criticises.

I take the main focus of the film to be that religious faith and objective science is incompatible. In fact, religious faith is now an absurdity in these modern times. Maher travels quite a bit throughout the US, Europe, and Israel interviewing people who would generally be classified as fundamentalists in their approaches to theology. At one point, he is interviewing Ken Ham (of Answers in Genesis and its Creation Museum fame). He takes Ham to task in resolving huge differences between scientific evidence and the “common sense” literal reading of creation espoused by young Earth creationism. From my perspective, Ham’s creationism here has already lost its sense of direction by adopting the language and system of scienctific observation that negates the teleological goal of creationism. In oversimplified terms, Ham’s creation science is much like trying to raise freshwater fish in salt water; the freshwater fish behave at the cellular/organic level differently than saltwater fish. The language and goals of the creation story in Genesis, much like the stories of Christ in the Gospels, are not meant to adhere to modern-day scientific (or biographical) literature. In this respect, Maher is spot on with his critique of faith. If one holds religious faith to be coterminal with empirical science, faith will always lose because it centers on phenomena that exceed the bounds empirical science has made for itself.

On the other hand, Maher’s critique is the the “atheist version” of the very thing he critiques. In one segment, he is asking a few Muslims (including an imam) about the Qur’an. His questions fall along the lines of “the Qur’an says to kill infidels, is this true?” Every Muslim asked answers the question along the lines of “that is not how we interpret that text because it was linked to a particular historical context that no longer exists.” Maher pushes his point by denying the possibility of interpretation, setting himself up as the more accurate interpreter than the believers who study the text! This is the same thing that he critiques people such as Ken Ham (and others). In other words, Maher wants religious/theological hermeneutics to be a closed event ripped from any context and made into an absolute ideological framework in order to reject religion. He then rationalises his work by claiming its standpoint of doubt is the best position.

Ironically, it is here that Maher again falls prey to the very thing he criticises. If doubt is the best place to stand, he hasn’t doubted enough! The “true” sceptic is the one that doubts everything, not just what one is prejudiced against. Maher emphasis empirical science as the strongest evidence for his position, yet he never doubts the framework of assumptions that undergird the empirical sciences. He never suggests that empirical evidence itself may be already tainted by a predisposition to certain beliefs (namely, that an external world exists and is discernable). Obviously, then, Maher should insist that some kind of belief is “acceptable” without entering into fundamentalism or scepticism. It seems, then, that the rational position is somewhere between the fundamentalism he decries while using and the scepticism he touts while evading.

One last thing of interesting note is that Maher suggests in his film that science has discovered a gene that is linked to belief in God. Ironically, the original researcher said that it was linked to spirituality and “feeling God’s presense” and not to simple belief in God. Further, these findings were never published in peer-reviewed literature. Even more striking is that this gene can also be associated with the feeling of beloning to a political party. In other words, it isn’t a very strong theory and it doesn’t suggest that belief in God is a genetic trait. Perhaps if Maher had utilised more of his “scepticism,” he would have noticed that.