My friend Amod Lele writes posts that engage me far more often than I comment. I want to record here a response to his criticism of this remark of C.S. Lewis':
Christianity is a statement which, if false, is of no importance, and, if true, of infinite importance. The one thing it cannot be is moderately important.Unlike a lot of philosophers (and theologians!) I know, I am a fan of CSL, but (like Lele) I've never thought much of his "trilemma" (Jesus: either liar, lunatic, or Lord). And like that argument, this one clearly aims at pressing a mild sympathy into a decision. What Lewis means to do is to rule out the middle-of-the-road, noncommittal view that sees Jesus as "a good man, a great moral teacher," and nothing else. A "great moral teacher" would not say "the sorts of things Jesus says" in the Gospels, Lewis contends. The trilemma does not work very well partly because it leaves out of account a host of vexed questions about the reliability of the Gospels themselves, but mostly because it presumes we are in a position to know what Jesus meant, when even the Gospels go out of their way to insist that we don't know what he meant. It may still be that the trilemma is meaningful under some circumstances (for instance, once you identify as a Christian and are satisfied that the tradition does reliably communicate an identifiable meaning, you may find it so), but as a compelling argument for persuading the sympathetic (to say nothing of the unsympathetic), it fails badly.
The argument of Lewis that Lele has in his sights this time seems, however, a little bit (even if just a little) more defensible. Lele's critique is straightforward:
Christians ... can put you in jail for your choice of sexual partners. They can make it impossible for you to access abortion or even contraception. And [on the other hand] they can fight for – and achieve – the equality of people of all races amid a society that denies it. In the past century, Christians of various sorts have done all these things many times, and done them because they were Christians: because they believed in, identified with and/or practised Christian tradition.This leads to the obvious conclusion, for Lele: when it comes to Christianity (and I assume that it goes without saying that one could insert the name of any other religious or non-religious tradition here), its ultimate truth or falsity is one of many things that might be "important" about it, but its real this-world consequences show that, true or false, there are plenty of other important things about it as well.
Bearing in mind the caveat offered in the Lele's comments section by Michael Reidy (to wit, Lewis is writing a popular article and not a learned treatise or an academic paper), I'd venture to say that Lewis just means that if you are satisfied for yourself that Christianity's claim is false, you can simply leave it alone and go on your way. Yes, it matters in one sense -- often a far-reaching sense -- that people believe and act upon falsehoods or nonsense. But you don't need to concern yourself with Christianity -- just with people making "christian" arguments. You aren't engaging with it (not on an existential level) -- it is no longer, as William James would put it, a "living option" for you. If someone tells me the earth is flat, this claim content-wise makes no difference to me, even though the person claiming it may be in a position to impose the view on all the public schools, burn me at the stake for denying it, or build hospitals and orphanages in the name of flat-earthism.
I won't argue that there is a bright and obvious line in every case between such "existential" engagement and merely prudential negotiations with those who maintain something I don't. And if there isn't, perhaps Lewis' claim cannot be defended even on these grounds. But the distinction I take him to be making is not prima facie silly. For Lewis, there really is a bifurcation here, but not because of the claims of Christianity per se; rather, it's because of the arena in which the relevance is being assessed. This arena is existential. As Lessing said, and Kierkegaard riffed on, one can't generate a claim of eternal force from any historically contingent fact. Within that arena there are (per hypothesis) no "moderately important" claims. This argument may seem surprisingly Manichean, and I have some sympathy with such a counter-argument. (My usual default way of negotiating it is via Tillich's articulation of "ultimate concern," re. which see here.) But then, philosophy too (not just theology) has insisted that there are things of ultimate importance, in comparison with which everything else becomes trivial. Socrates chastened his fellow Athenians for precisely this, neglecting their souls. The fact that he likely didn't mean exactly what Lewis would have meant by "soul" shouldn't distract us overmuch here. Philosophy, also, requires decision.
Thanks, Skholiast, very interesting post. As for Amod's post (and many other similar usages of Lewis, I suspect) it seems that they are not distinguishing between different sorts of claims. I have discussed this topic with Amod already many times and I know he disagrees, but I cannot be convinced that Hegel and Kierkegaard (for instance) are not saying different things from different points of view. It would not make sense to try to validate the idea of Kierkegaard's Don Juan according to ontological principles. Christianity (and Lewis as quoted by you and Amod) make claims which are ontologically irrelevant (it does not affect Christianity whether swans are black or not) but soteriologically relevant. I know that there are some Fundamentalist Christians who try to make also ontological claims. I think they are just missing the point and are trying (vainly) to compete with Natural Sciences, as if a religion could even win on a field which is not its own…
ReplyDeleteOn a similar vein, you might want to check this post, whose author contends that Catholics cannot believe that "life" is a mistery and that we should not interfere with it and at the same time refrain from legally banning abortion. I think the author confuses two different sorts of claim: http://blog.practicalethics.ox.ac.uk/2012/10/roman-catholic-doctrine-and-abortion/
Elisa, "ontologically irrelevant, but soteriologically relevant" -- what a useful and succinct formulation! Thank you. Though to me, the whole question is whether ontology can be different from soteriology. I might even suggest that for a certain kind of Christian, ontology is soteriology. So I'd have to venture that a great deal turns upon how we distinguish the senses of relevance here.
DeleteThis post resonates with my own recent experience. Christianity became real for me while reading the precise passages in Kierkegaard you speak of. I realized that (and told myself that) to really understand Christianity, I'd have to test it out myself. This meant going beyond the cursory details of having been baptized, confirmed, etc. I needed to DO what it says to DO in order to "experience the reality of Jesus Christ in the world and in my heart." In other words, I had to start praying, worshiping, studying scripture, tradition, etc... but more than that, I genuinely had to BELIEVE in the God it all (and therefore, increasingly, my own life) "referred" to.
ReplyDeleteFrom then, my experience took two roads. First, I discovered that, with belief, the evidence of this God does come, and the truth of the scriptures is revealed to you (I won't deny having had moments of clarity and peace that made me weep for being forgiven). But then I discovered how clearly these two operations-- believing it and it being believable (indeed, while also remaining unbelievable, otherwise, what need for faith?)-- depended on the illusion that no chasm separated them (and so, if the faith seemed weak, it could only be my fault).
The revelation deemed eternal (and necessary) turned out to be a construct in time (and so contingent). Prayer would have continued operating a conversion from contingency to necessity (transforming Idea into existential), but that I could no longer do. I finally saw how my speech had fallen into a cage of theology and apologetics, my life into a weak groveling for the sake of "inner peace". My sneaking suspicions and my sobriety, intensified by actual cracks in the construct's foundation, left me feeling like no more than another liar and hypocrite, servile and in a dream.
There's no easy way to articulate faith in the existential sense that your post is trying to distinguish from the ontological or epistemological sense most associated with "Christianity". However, complications with the latter (if you throw in its politics) made the fiction of the former crumble apart. Perhaps my experiment lacked faith, but the faith could not hold up to the test either. Much like Aquinas, it all turned to straw in my eyes; but I was not already on my way to canonization. I had no Christian reputation to uphold...
I think there's rarefied spiritual heights that belief in God makes possible, as well as some admirable behaviors; but I'm skeptical as to the necessity of belief when it comes to cultivating those existential heights and habits. For me there reached a point where the belief-structure became a chain and the "raw faith" had to break free, breathe free, and live outside. And with the existential possibilities rooted out (along with, I admit, the peace of mind ("reality of Christ") they allow), all that's left are some relative truth claims and inspirational speaking.
Whereas what was left to me was to make a decision -- my own.
Tim.
Tim,
Deletesee my reply to Elisa above. But I'll just add: you write,
"I think there's rarefied spiritual heights that belief
in God makes possible, as well as some admirable behaviors;
but I'm skeptical as to the necessity of belief when it
comes to cultivating those existential heights and habits."
and I can only say, Amen. I don't think belief, or assent, or "right views," or doctrine, or (insert term here) is irrelevant, but I gladly file all of these under "skillful means."
Beautifully put, Skholiast. I think your reading of CSL is exactly right in that if you genuinely reject Christianity's' claims on a factual level, then he's not going to gripe with you.
ReplyDeleteI'd love to see you take up Chesterton's somewhat parallel claim sometime, which (if I remember right) stated that because Jesus is God incarnate, Christianity puts all comparative religion out of business--it's not just "one religion among others" but rather a (the) singular religion of genuine merit. I think GKC's point is about as successful as Lewis' trilemma--i.e., it's unsuccessful because it leaves too much out. (By his logic, shouldn't Hindu avatars equally put other religions out of business, since they comprise a direct line to divinity?) It's a better argument than Lewis' disastrous one that Islam is merely a Christian heresy or Buddhism a Hindu heresy--and that both deserve dismissal as a result (for Christianity could likewise be dismissed as "merely" a Jewish heresy), but it's still a nonstarter for me.
Alf,
DeleteThanks, and good to have you comment. It nay or may not raise your eyebrows to know that I think GKC's point is actually a good one, in a qualified sense. It's the matter for a post (or more) of it's own, but in brief, I rather think that Christianity maintains something that neither Buddhism nor "Hinduism" (mind the scare quotes) maintains. (I guess I take the scandal of particularity seriously). To me this means that one can make room for them both because they are talking about different, not the same, things. In short, it doesn't put comparative religion out of business, but clarifies what we are comparing, and what we are not. (This has been a topic of conversation for us before -- see this comment thread). But I don't presume this answers the whole conundrum.
Thanks, Skholiast. That's a charitable way of reading Lewis, and probably close to his intent. I suspect I would disagree with it even at that level, though. Philosophy does require decision, yes - but I think this is one of those cases (not so many as postmodernists would tell you) where the plural is better. It requires decisions, which interweave in subtle ways. It is not merely a matter of Christianity vs. not-Christianity. Moreover, it seems to me that every falsehood - at least, every falsehood that people have believed for generations - contains within it some degree of truth. Atheists can learn from Christian ideas without becoming Christian and vice-versa - and they can make decisions based on that learning.
ReplyDeleteAmod, never let it be said that I denigrated the significance of dialogue! Besides, I must say I enjoy the moment of you articulating the po-mo, pluralist cause ;) (Indeed, I clearly enjoy it so much, it called for an emoticon -- a rare occasion indeed.)
DeleteSince I pretty much have gone on record as saying that the truth of spiritual traditions is ineffable with a capital Ineff, I am bound to agree that overt doctrine inherently has some tincture of falsehood to it. I hope this doesn't commit me to an abject relativism or shallowly negative theology (there's a deep kind too)... But in the present context, I'd wager that it means that one can't just split things up into two non-intersecting sets, "Important" and "Non-important." I am thinking of decision here in close to the Badiouian sense, "fidelity to the event," and as re. philosophy and Christianity, I'd say we can decide that there is some "There" there, or we can assume ( / decide) that there is none. (We need not specify it much further -- though this probably would leave CSL unsatisfied.) In the former case, we may wind up allying with each other, being real comrades, and discovering a rapport with each other that is deeper than our apparent disagreements. In the latter, we will find ourselves perhaps only allies-of-convenience, what one might call "[strange] bedfellows", in temporary coalitions that tend to fall apart. It's a difference of the degree of respect one accords one another. Such respect need not preclude the refusal to pull punches. But I note that when I try to get too specific about the difference I'm trying to point to, it starts to slide out of my grasp.
There's a lively thread on Facebook right now responding to my post, which is relevant to this. (Friend me on Facebook if you'd like to see it.) The diversity within Christianity itself is so great that I am not sure what kind of alliances it really makes for. Is there common ground between Jerry Falwell and Gustavo Gutierrez? Less, probably, than between the left- and right-wing Americans who (in a way that never ceases to amaze me) continue to sincerely cite Constitutional scripture for their purposes.
DeleteYes. I often wonder what people (Christian or non-) surmise about me when I identify as Christian. My wondering this may also be part of the problem, of course. (Will I ever reach the end of vanity...?) But my guess is that most folks are not immediately thinking of Gutiérrez. In any case when I was writing the comment you are responding to, I was thinking in part of this post by Larry Moran, in particular this:
Delete"Like all my atheist friends, I have no problem working with theists of all stripes when it comes to making our society a better place—just as I have no problem working with conservatives, homeopaths, anti-abortionists, people who favor capital punishment, pro-gun lobbyists, and even misogynists and racists if the issue is important enough.
The point is that people differ on all kinds of issues but that doesn't prevent them from forming alliances and getting along. My theist friends don't agree with my stance on the existence of god(s) but most of them tolerate my position even though they will argue passionately against it when we debate. Similarly, I think they're dead wrong about the existence of god(s) but that doesn't mean we can't work together to support the same political candidate."
I'm just contrasting these sort of prudential "alliances" -- which I do not sneer at -- with something else, a rapport that is much harder to characterize, but which at minimum I think entails a curiosity about one's interlocutors and about what it is like to be them -- including what it's like believing what they believe. (This "curiosity" is not sufficient for what I'm talking about, and may not even be the right word, but to even begin to sketch this rapport would be an entire post.)