Tag Archives: heterodoxy

Deleuze Conference Abstract

I forgot to mention this presentation which I’ll be making at the annual International Deleuze Studies Conference in New Orleans this June. Here’s the successful abstract…

‘The Evolution of Theologies, or Opening the Histories of Hermeneutics’

The history of Christian theology is filled with changes, adaptations, and improvisations. To speak of theology as a singular notion imparts a level of orthodoxy which is impossible to maintain as a simple unity within an increasingly fragmentary religious traditions. The question of orthodoxy, then, presupposes a question of authority and answers it in a circular-but-arboreal manner: the orthodoxy — as defined by the authority — defines the authority. By changing even the slightest bit of scriptures, tradition, or institution, the entirety of orthodoxy splits into two parallel structures. Theology — and any kind of thought which establishes an analogue to ‘orthodoxy’ — is a process of mitosis. Unity, such as the appeal to a universal ‘body of Christ’ within Christian ecumenism, is most acutely realized through the very process of separation which creates multiple orthodoxies that are unable to be resolved. In other words, the desire for orthodoxy as an arboreal structure creates within theology a rhizomatic structure that resists the centralization of orthodoxy.

In this paper, I wish to present an argument for heterodoxy as a contingency of authority within theology. Heterodoxy in this case should not be seen as the opposite of orthodoxy but rather as the condition which makes ‘orthodoxy’ possible as an instance of a universal and singular authority. I shall argue that the assertion of orthodoxy is only possible when there is more than one valid claim. My argument will follow a largely Deleuzian approach as one way of interpreting authority through the play of sense. The Reformation era will serve the historical point at which the issue of authority was brought to the forefront of theology, and I shall argue that the most important question of modern ecumenism (still) revolves around this single issue. However, the tendency towards absorbing dissident groups back into one ‘Mother Church’ can only end in failure because heterodoxy — that is, the plurality of orthodoxies — is what makes ecumenical dialogue and reconciliation possible. Rather than suggesting that ecumenism must ultimately accept a single set of positions as properly authoritative from which all deviations move towards heresy, I suggest that there can never be such an orthodoxy for it is based on a gross misperception of the historical development of orthodoxy. To be orthodox, then, is to become something other-than-orthodox because orthodoxy is a semiotic play between theological sense and nonsense.

Common Sense

Perhaps I’m the only one who thinks this, but we give too much weight to facts. In many conversations — politics, science, religion, you name it — one often suggests that if we could only get down to hashing out the facts, they would speak for themselves and only one interpretation would be possible. I’m not so sure.

When one speaks of these facts, one actually means quantifiable and verifiable observations (how scientific!). While I readily accept that, such sentiment often misses the more important part of the equation: one still reads and interprets those facts, removing them from their original contexts and placing them in a ready-made context which often reinforces one’s own viewpoint. This is why, for example, those who claim that Obama was not a ‘natural-born’ citizen of the United States (and therefore disqualified from being President) continue to insist the truth of their claims despite the evidence provided precisely because they consider that evidence (birth certificate forms) to be fabrications on the basis of his not being born on U.S. soil. While the people who either don’t care or don’t agree with these ‘birthers’ accept the evidence as factual proof that Obama was a ‘natural-born’ citizen, the ‘birthers’ take that evidence as factual proof that he wasn’t.

This kind of logic has developed from two different psychological effects which are based in the Common Sense Realism of the eighteenth century. The first effect is the belief that one will change one’s beliefs when sufficient evidence is presented. The second is the belief that one welcomes divergent views. Both are illusions. Together, these two create the understanding that one has more knowledge of the subject at hand than other dialogue partners and, if only those partners were rational, they would change their minds by the sheer force of evidence presented. The harsher reality is that all the participants in the dialogue are enmeshed in their own reality and refuse to accept evidence contrary to their beliefs as facts. Either the science is biased, the presenter misinterpreted, or the context from which those facts were ripped is inaccurate (or unrealistic!). Whatever the case may be, people (including myself!) do not take new, contrary facts easily (if it is even possible).

The real result of these effects and the presentation of facts is that the very definition of facts is up to interpretation. Take, for example, the general scientific consensus that there is sufficient evidence to support the claim that modern human activity has contributed significantly to global warming. As far as scientific evidence goes, this is confirmed observation, but yet those who disagree speak about believing in climate change. The same also goes with the general scientific consensus on evolution. In other words, even evidence facts must be believed for them to have any degree of truth.

Where this leaves human dialogue, then, is in the realm of debate between orthodoxies. In many (if not all) cases, we have two or more dialogue partners who have their own ready-made realities and every discussion of substance without agreement is a clash of these realities that can never be harmonised. Instead, what normally happens is that the partners end their dialogue (at best, by ‘agreeing to disagree’) with further confirmation of their own set of beliefs as truth and their partners’ set of beliefs as heterodoxy (which is also often equated with heresy).

If this can be overcome, it is through the embrace of pluralism which doesn’t just welcome divergent views but expects them. Such polydoxy can be found in some ecumenical dialogues which find an important point around which agreement can be centered and friendly relationships established. It can also be found in religiously plural environments where people practise multiple faith traditions simultaneously (e.g. Buddhist Christians) as well as in religious groups like the Marranos and Messianic Judaism which also hold two different faiths in tension. In other words, the way out of entrenched orthodoxies is to become, in essence, a Marrano and find a new harmony in the discordance of beliefs.

Counterfactuals

After my presentation on heterodoxy and ecumenism at the Society for the Study of Theology conference, one of the questions posed was how to draw borders around Christianity to differentiate it from (1) other religions and (2) heresy. My response was ambiguous as one of my points was that the borders have always been blurry despite being treated as hard edges (e.g. early Christianity declaring something as heresy in an ecumenical council then later appropriating and absorbing that heresy later on — see Mark Edward’s Catholicity and Heresy in the Early Church).

Much later in the day, I was approached by someone who was present at my paper. She had commented that clear boundaries are necessary such as the case of the early church. Her argument was that without ‘proper’ conceptions of God, Christ, etc, Christian thought would be laughable. As a proof case, she pointed to Arianism: how would theology have been today if we didn’t have a sufficiently divine Christ?’ While I didn’t answer her very directly, I began thinking that her case wasn’t a very good one. She had said that if Arianism was popular today, Christ would be a superman rather than God.

However, that’s not as bad as it first seems. We have numerous ‘superhero’ stories, books, and films in which the single superhero saves the world, wins the love interest, and keeps her secret identity a secret. This is even the case when the superhero is not imbued with super strength or magical properties (e.g. Batman). In fact, it seems that a ‘merely’ superhero non-divine (or demi-god) character is exactly how Christians treat God: please rescue me from this, please prevent it from raining, please let this computer work!

In other words, I challenge her critique that Jesus as ‘merely’ human is at all convincing. What seems to be more accurate is that this theologian was more worried that the powerlessness of God might be exposed like the Wizard of Oz without seeing that the Wizard really wasn’t powerless as he does what Dorothy and the gang believe he can do. The Tin Man does get a heart, the Scarecrow does get a brain, etc. The only possible difficulty is that he doesn’t do it with a magic wand or while wearing a cape. Rather, we find that he’s entirely normal like us ‘mere’ humans and his magic lies in getting people to realise that they’ve already possessed what for which they were searching.

Returning to the theological issue, that’s one way of seeing salvation: that the person who repents publicly in order to experience Christ has already done so by taking that first step towards the confessional (or the altar/front for evangelical-minded). Salvation always occurs before it is accepted, announced, or even observed. The power of God is the observation which undercuts our magical expectations more so that anything else. More bluntly, so what if Christ is ‘merely’ human. Perhaps the more interesting question would be to ask what else can Christ be? And then, we may have an interesting dialogue as to what it means that Christ was also (perhaps ‘merely’) divine.