So, here's Cox's way of dividing Christian history into three periods.
The first is the Age of Faith. Starts with Jesus and his immediate followers. "'Faith' meant hope and assurance in the dawning of a new era of freedom, healing, and compassion that Jesus had demonstrated. To be a Christian meant to live in his Spirit, embrace his hope, and to follow him in the work that he had begun."
The second is the Age of Belief which began as early as a few decades after Jesus lived, when church leaders began "formulating orientation programs" where a set of beliefs were created in order to initiate new recruits. The way Cox puts it, these sets of beliefs grew into something that replaced "faith *in* Jesus with tenets *about* him." A clerical caste formed to assert one set of beliefs over another, yet to an extent the different Christian communities were still held together by a common "Spirit". And the real turning point came when Emperor Constantine made Christianity legal and Emperor Theodosius made it the official religion of the Roman Empire, in the 4th century. Tenets were codified and belief became synonymous with membership, and hence with political/legal status. "Heresy became treason and treason became heresy." We know the rest of that story.
The third is what Cox calls the "Age of the Spirit". Cox goes into the history of that phrase, tracing it back to a Christian mystic in the 13th century. But basically the idea is that people today (beginning, say, 50 or 60 years ago) are increasingly distancing themselves from "religion" and describing themselves as "spiritual". So, they are more interested in "a way of life rather than a doctrinal structure". Cox claims that this is a wide and increasingly common sentiment that's mostly developing within/out of religious traditions including Christianity. This is why charismatic congregations are one of the few groups growing in the U.S., and why Christianity in Asia, a Christianity that emphasizes experience rather than doctrine, is growing like gang-busters.
Cox is saying that we are going through a transition, where Christian fundamentalism is declining and faith is no longer synonymous with believing the right thing as much as living a certain kind of life. A sort of return to the Age of Faith.
Sounds familiar.
Thanks for these two postings; they've led me to buy Cox's book. Karen Armstrong's The Case for God makes much the same point. The greatest theologians have always talked much more about "faith" than "belief."
ReplyDeleteAs you know, I'm a practicing Christian, but I don't "believe" in any particular conception of God. I don't even believe God "exists" in the only way I know to think about existence. Rather, I use the word "God" (I even prefer the Jewish construction "G-d") to refer to the ground of all existence.
Instead of "believing," I know--based in part on the wondrous knowledge science has given us--that the cosmos has an ultimate meaning. What that meaning is is the ultimate Mystery, but the cosmos exists, and for that I feel a need to express gratitude. (It's only polite, after all.) I choose to do so within the Judeo-Christian tradition, probably because I know it best.
Yes, I recite the Nicene Creed every Sunday, with its string of "I believe" clauses. But like many, perhaps most, Christians, I know that its language is metaphorical--a human attempt to express the inexpressible.
(Incidentally, even the most vehement Biblical literalists, when pressed, will concede that when Jesus is quoted as saying "I am the door," he isn't speaking literally. I differ from them in thinking that all the Bible's language is like that.)
Humbly,
Ken
I agree with Cox. I do think that there is definitely a movement to get back to orthopraxy rather than being so concerned with orthodoxy. And, of course, there's a counter-movement too. What really interests me is what has created this shift to the Age of the Spirit. I wonder if he discusses this at all.
ReplyDeleteI also wonder what Cox would say holds religion together in the Age of the Spirit? That is, what makes someone a Christian if there's no belief or doctrine? Does it just become a bunch of people who enjoy singing certain kinds of songs together? Or--more significantly--a group of people who are committed to some way of living together--perhaps a way that challenges some of the fundamental ideals of their society. That would begin to sound more like the first stage of Christianity. It seems like one might distinguish the Age of Faith from the Age of the Spirit by saying that that Age of Faith was more of a social and political movement whereas the Age of the Spirit isn't as much about changing the world. I wonder how Cox distinguishes the first from third phase?
I also like the point about Christianity's moving into the belief stage and how that was brought about by the need to have a body of doctrine for the purpose of distinguishing members from non-members. I've often been struck by the amazing the transition of Christianity from persecuted sect to religion of the Roman Empire. And I've often thought that this must have radically changed the very essence of Christianity. I do agree with Cox on that. That transition seems a more likely candidate for tracing and understanding its details. The transition from the second to third phase seems much more nebulous.
Back to the survival of Christianity in the Age of the Spirit. If Dawkins and Dennett are right, then what matters for the survival of a religion are that the religious beliefs and doctrines are passed on from generation to generation. The memes survive. Dennett makes the point (in chapter 8 of Breaking the Spell) that in order for the memes to survive those who pass them on don't even have to understand them--a fortiori they don't have to believe them! But if we are indeed on the cusp of an Age of the Spirit, where doctrinal beliefs don't matter, then it seems that Christianity would cease to exist. That is, according to the Dawkins-Dennett meme model of religion.
I also want to say something about what Ken said. Surely it's a mistake to say that the "Bible" is 100 percent metaphor. Perhaps one might take it as 100 percent metaphor and try to find metaphorical meanings in the mistaken factual claims. But whether the "Bible" contains factual claims, metaphors or something else is surely not something that one can just decide. Rather, that is itself a factual question that good historical and critical research about those texts attempts to reveal. For example, what did Jesus mean when he spoke of the Kingdom of Heaven? Or was the Psalmist speaking literally or metaphorically--or both, as seems likely--when he suggests a geocentric view of the heavens?
ReplyDeleteI can decide to try to find metaphorical meanings in the scriptures (like I can try to find different shapes and patterns in clouds). But I cannot decide factual questions about texts. Whether one agrees with the "Bible" once we come up with the most historically sensitive, most likely accurate understanding of the text is another question. Perhaps I won't. Perhaps I will reject what the text actually (most likely) says but will nevertheless find a metaphorical interpretation that suits me. That's fine, although I'm not sure what the significance of the "Bible" is in that case.
Thanks, Silentio, for the careful, thoughtful response to my comment. I hope my response is worthy of yours.
ReplyDeleteAs "reader response" criticism holds, a work is created out of the transaction of a text and a reader. The intention of the writer may be interesting but not essential or even productive to that transaction.
The Bible is a library of texts, in a number of genres, by a large number of writers, mostly unknown. Even the few writers who can be reasonably known may not have intentions we can clearly discern--although, of course, we can attempt to do so.
Most critical readers of Genesis, for example, agree that the unknown writers of that book were not trying to write science--which didn't really exist then--but to record myth. Most critical readers of the Gospels agree that the unknown writers of those books were not trying to write biography--which didn't really exist then either.
Most critical readers of the Bible--myself included--simply don't read it as a source for scientific or historical knowledge (except, in the case of textual scholars, scientific/linguistic and historical knowledge about the texts themselves). To do so would a rather silly mixing of genres. After all, we don't read Aesop's Fables for their zoology, or Titus Andronicus for its recipes. (Or Dawkins for his theology, for that matter. :-) )
To critique the Bible because it gets its history or cosmology wrong is like critiquing the Odyssey because one-eyed monsters don't really exist.
The Bible is the establishing library of a worshiping community, a collection of early attempts to express a people's relationships with each other and with the divine. It's a very mixed library, containing myth, legend, song, erotic poetry, letters, sermons, and more--all of which, I argue, almost demand a metaphorical reading.
The Bible's significance comes from its influence for thousands of years on millions of readers, each of whom necessarily interprets it in his or her own way--but, of course, always within the context of the entire community's traditional interpretations (whether supporting or opposing them). No central authority has ever successfully enforced an "official" Biblical meaning--and for that, we should all give thanks.
Back to the sub-sub-librarian's previous post: There's a story of a group of Jewish prisoners in a Nazi concentration camp who put G-d on trial for allowing such evil to happen. After much examination, cross-examination, and deliberation, they find G-d guilty. They then adjourn court so that they can begin their evening prayers. That, to me, seems a perfectly reasonable day's work.
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ReplyDeleteKen,
ReplyDeleteThanks for your response. I think the residual point of contention that I have is that the writer's intentions do matter for what the text says. That doesn't mean that the writer's intentions are some mysterious entity that we have to try to decipher. But I do think that what, for example, John meant when he wrote his revelation to the early church matters. What is needed to reveal these intentions are extrabiblical sources. As it turns out, all the strange imagery in Revelation has mostly to do with the Roman Empire. It's thinly veiled in these strange images most likely so as to mask the treason in that letter, lest it be discovered by the Romans or the pawns they'd set up to rule over certain parts of the empire. Revelation is carefully constructed and so it does matter what the author intended.
No canonical reading has ever been enforced and that is indeed a good thing. But this doesn't mean that some readings aren't flat out mistaken. I suggest as one such example of a misreading of the text the Jenkins-LaHaye reading of Revelation. Now this doesn't mean that the Jenkins-LaHaye reading hasn't been very influential in various communities of faith. It indeed expresses the attempts of certain worshipping communities to express their relationship with the divine. But it isn't supported by the text.
Why does this matter? Perhaps it doesn't. Perhaps we just let different communities use the Bible to justify whatever theology they have. I'm not vehemently opposed to that. But at that point we've let go of a connection to the life and meaning of Jesus and the early church. I don't for a second think that there's Jesus or the early church had everything right. I think that "the Spirit still moves" and that there is plenty of stuff in the Bible and even in the New Testament that I (and my community) would say supports immoral practices. God's work in the world didn't end with the New Testament, in my opinion. But I still think that inasmuch as Christians point back to the life and work of Jesus then it matters what Jesus actually did and said and MEANT. This is why I think the search for the historical Jesus matters.
John Dominic Crossan does some great work where he traces a tension through the pages of the Bible itself. The tension is that of peace through justice vs. peace through victory. Crossan sees Jesus as turning the ideology of the Roman Empire (Pax Romana) on its head. But the notion of peace through victory (i.e. violence) doesn't die easily and we see that sentiment rear its ugly head again and again in through the pages of the Bible. The story of humanity's struggle to overcome the tendency towards violence plays itself out within the Christian tradition and thus within the pages of our sacred texts themselves. Jesus' message was indeed radical. I think it matters what that message is. Otherwise it is all too easy for it to be domesticated within a community that has its own purposes. Hitler liked the Bible too. He had his own critical response to the texts, I'm sure.
Interpretation is indeed a messy business. And there are many ways that one can try to domesticate the Bible for one purpose or another. But my current feeling is that once one uncovers some aspect of the Bible one rejects, rather than trying to find a metaphorical meaning its probably best just to reject it. Then you can go on and develop your own alternative. Perhaps this occurs best when in dialogue with one's own community of faith and also when in dialogue with Christian tradition.
Sorry I was MIA there...
ReplyDeleteSilentio-
Regarding the Dawkins/Dennett meme thing. From what I remember, it wouldn't seem that hard to reconcile what Cox is saying with a continued memetic transmission and the survival of Christianity as a religion. Memes aren't just theoretical ideas, as I understand it. They are also akin to Dennett's free-floating rationales. So, as you put it, this is a shift from an emphasis on orthodoxy toward orthopraxy, but the orthopraxy-ish stuff is still the stuff of memes. Right?
Ken-
I like the story of a group of Jewish prisoners putting god on trial and then breaking for prayer. I just read Philip Roth's *Operation Shylock*. Highly recommend it if you haven't read it. It is the 20th century Jewish experience put on trial.
(Back to) Silentio-
OK, if I understand you correctly, you're saying that you agree with Ken, except you think that "Christians" ought to in fact be concerned about trying to discover the "historical Jesus." That makes sense, I guess, but I'm left with the impression that what Ken's doing appears illegitimate to you. Maybe not illegitimate, but something like it. Ken's approach looks like a good example of the sort of shift Cox is talking about. Ken seems to be someone who feels very comfortable in an Age of the Spirit. You and I, who were raised in conservative Christian communities, will probably find ourselves often distrusting a position like Ken's, thinking to ourselves "I know what religion is, and this isn't it." But, if we are to allow (and even encourage) people to be more "spiritual" than dogmatic when it comes to religion, then Ken is saying something that makes a heck of a lot of sense.
So the issue is, how can Christianity accommodate people like Ken? Can Christianity do this? Should Christianity do this? Is that what you're saying? Because, although I sympathize with your concern about discovering the historical Jesus, I'm much more sympathetic towards Ken's position. Or, maybe I should say, I feel more confident that Ken's kind of spirituality will not lead to fundamentalist-type-beliefs-and-behaviors. The attempt to discover the historical Jesus is still an attempt to use the authority of an ancient text to determine how people should live in the 21st century. Know what I mean?
SSL,
ReplyDeleteYou’re right, memes need not be only thoughts (which require the relevant concepts) but also practices and skills (like a way of building a boat or climbing a tree, which do not require the relevant concepts). So if the kind of praxis oriented religion we’re talking about were a set of skills or practices then, yes, it could be passed on in the way the memeticist postulates. But then what are the skills and practices we’re talking about? And whatever they are, why think they’re in any way unique to Christianity? Here’s a kind of dilemma. Either the practices are doctrine oriented or they aren’t. If they are then they don’t fit the age of the spirit way of thinking about religion. If they aren’t then they won’t allow us to clearly distinguish Christianity from other religions or perhaps even from nonreligious practices.
I’m not against this latter option. In fact, I support it. In the words of Bishop Spong, I think that Christianity must either change or die. And if it changes, I think that it will lose much of its old identity. This is just as we should expect were we to successfully rid Christianity of its doctrines.
I do think that learning about the historical Jesus is important. I do disagree with you, though, that good historical critical study of Jesus is the attempt to use ancient texts to tell us how to live. Many scholars in that tradition aren’t even religious. And certainly none of them are saying that these ancient texts should be normative for us. I agree with those like Borg or Crossan see Jesus as an important historical figure that is of interest to us because he was such an individual who lived an exemplary life which we can learn a lot from and who (if you so believe, as I do) was in contact with God in a special way. But he wasn’t God. He is important to know about in the same way that Gandhi is important to know about. These are human beings who (if you so believe as I do) were God-filled in a special way. The criterion for determining these is, I think, moral. It is important to see how such individuals lived their lives, what they fought for, what they fought against, and how they handled the kinds of situations that we all face in some way or another.
And I think there are plenty of relevant things that, e.g., Jesus’ nonviolent confrontation with Empire in his day could have to say to our own confrontation with Empire today.
I don’t distrust Ken’s position at all. The only thing I take issue with is turning interpretation into a free for all. I just don’t think that what works for literary theory works for everything. My point is just that when we figure out something that the Bible is likely saying and we don’t agree, we should just flat out reject it. The thing doesn’t have to be right on everything for it to have some value.
I’m not sure how believing that there is something the Bible is meaning to say leads to fundamentalism. Bill Mahr believes the Bible makes certain claims (perhaps incorrectly) but he’s no fundamentalist. I reject all of the traditional Christian doctrines (divinity of Jesus, atonement, virgin birth, etc.). I could try to say that all of those doctrines are really just metaphor, but I prefer just to reject them outright.
Also, Dennett himself (in Breaking the Spell) takes doctrines to be essential to organized religion. And his point (esp. in chapter 8) is that the doctrines can be passed on even if the devout don't even believe them (they just have to profess them), even if they don't understand them.
ReplyDelete