Postmodernism as the Vindication of Modernism

I have sometimes said that Postmodernism vindicates Modernity. Here's what I mean (with thanks to Frederick Bauerschmidt): Modernity is a quest for autonomy and freedom. It accomplishes this, in part, by elevating reason which, in turn, elevates the hard sciences. Postmodernity, hating any metanarrative, especially one that purports to be neutral and verifiable like the knowledge of the hard sciences, throws down these things that are elevated. As such, there is no overarching story in which the individual must find themselves limited. There is complete unfettered freedom.

Mocking but Missing the Point

Unfortunately, Warren Kinsella has (possibly) missed the point. And it's a big one to miss. And he's missed it the same way those he's mocking did, as well.

Kinsella mocks the confession that Tony Blair considered God in his decision to invade Iraq. His mocking is not directly about considering religion in one's political decisions, but that the belief in WMD was so ludicrous that one might be considered crazy to have believed in their existence. However, if Kinsella wanted to consider reasonably the merits of that belief, then why bring up Blair's recent admitted religion? Methinks Kinsella is most interested in poking fun at those who think religion could be involved in political decisions. If this is the case, and I remain open that it might not be, then Kinsella has missed the same point that Bush and Blair missed, as well: 9/11 was extremely religious and its solution must be religious, as well. That being said, to the extent that Blair and Bush did consult God, then they did the right thing, though perhaps with the wrong outcome. But to the extent that Bush and Blair believed a secular solution (development and promotion of Western democracy) was the answer, then they themselves disregarded the motivations of the attackers and missed the point. This disregard that perhaps the attackers did in fact take their religion seriously, rather than simply being extremists/terrorists, ultimately removed religion from being part of the public solution. (So, we had military answers to those pesky Christians who went and got themselves captured.)

Anyway, I think the ridicule of those who purport to take their faith seriously is the same mistake as those who disregarded religion in the problem to begin with. I also think the result is fundamentalist atheists (Dawkins, Hitches, etc.) living and writing in this religionless world, but that's a little tougher to flesh out.

Some Thoughts on "Whose Afraid of Postmodernism?"

James K.A. Smith has written a great little text on postmodernism put to Christian use. "Whose Afraid of Postmodernism" (Baker, 2006) avoids, for the most part, all the abstract rhetoric that I think dominates some emergent conversations. In the book, Smith looks at three faces of postmodernism and the "bumper sticker slogans" associated with each one.

He first looks at Derrida and the claim that "there is nothing outside the text." I find this an impossible claim to ignore with the genesis of so many news stations--some even "fair and balanced"!--and even a compelling claim to believe. Smith defends Derrida's slogan, saying he is not a liguistic idealist--that all the world is language--but that there is nothing outside interpretation. The world is even something that is interpreted--it is a text. Hence, the slogan could be considered as saying something like "There is nothing that is not a text." Smith then examines how this denudes the modernistic idea of neutral reason that can adjudicate between truth claims, instead grounding interpretations in certain communities. Because nothing is outside interpretation, everything can be deconstructed and reconstructed. (Derrida says that the only thing that cannot be deconstructed is deconstruction.) From my own research, deconstruction is a very helpful category for what happens in some tellings of personal narratives in the presence of a critical, but gracious listener.

Second, Smith examines Lyotard's idea that postmodernity is incredulity toward metanarratives. This was the claim I wanted to hear defended the most. Smith says that modern epistemology, dominated by science, appeals to neutral, mythologically free, data. This overarching narrative justifies the modern notions of truth, objectivity, etc. Smith says that Lyotard's beef is not with the bigness of narratives, but with the nature of the claims they make. The problem is legitimation of worldviews based on overarching truth claims that should be accessible to any who think hard (or clearly) enough. Smith says, instead, that all claims (even scientific ones) are grounded in narratives which are culturally and temporally conditioned. Because all claims are such does not negate whether or not one is true; only the certainty with which truth is known. So, because of this, Christianity can boldly proclaim its historical, cultural, temporal, etc. story without appealing to something beyond it. It can preach in humility and confidence.

Third, Smith examines Foucault and his claim that "power is knowledge." What Foucault means by this is that communities, which have power necessarily, form truth claims based on the strucutures already found therein. Power has a role in determining what the truth is. Knowledge is not neutral. Now, one can read Foucault as a Nietzschean--meaning power is neither good nor bad, but just there, or as a Liberal--meaning power is bad and please take your hands of my individual autonomy. Smith reads Foucault as the latter, and proceeds to defend power, but with a dose of skepticism to the structures even the church can idolize and through which become abusive.

The final chapter was (unfortunately) the most abstract and will take too long to unpack it here and now.

The Almost Modern Augustine

I realized this morning that Augustine is almost, in at least one way, a modern thinker. Here's how.

For Augustine, language is not before thought. Language is always a symbol of a thought, the thought always preceding language. Of course, this can sound very modern to some Postmodernists, like Lyotard, who believe that the belief in a legitimization of a grand-narrative outside language, perhaps in "reason," is the mark of modernity. Lyotard believes that all knowledge is linguistically based and so language comes before thought. It can appear that Augustine has put language before though, which could point to a universalistic reason which could ground a metanarrative. However, for Augustine it is not reason which grounds language, but rather God who grounds language. Just as the word, when used properly, accurately captures the thought, so does the Word accurately capture the Father. The relationship between language and thought is a pointer, inadequate most assuredly, but a pointer nonetheless to God.

Book Review: Atonement for a Sinless Society

Alan Mann, in Atonement for a ‘Sinless’ Society, applies narrative from theological, therapeutic, and liturgical vantage points to a chronically shamed culture. In sum, Mann presents the ontologically coherent narrative of Jesus as the invitation to the chronically shamed individual to join the bonded community of the church, which enjoys “mutual, intimate, undistorted relating” (19) through the Eucharist. Mann unpacks this thesis over four sections.

First, Mann’s analysis of contemporary hamartiology unmasks the prevalence of shame in a society that believes in neither sin nor guilt, offering it as a more accurate category for the sin experience of the “post-industrialized.” Shame has a double-edged effect on society. While countered with deep, mutual relationship, shame leads individuals to present “cover stories” of the self, to hide their real identity (81), thus negating the possibility of relationship. Further, contemporary society encourages self-realization, so that sin, if it exists, is failing this attainment. As a result, the post-industrialized self, looking in the mirror, says, “Against you alone have I sinned” (21). Though considered “virtuous,” such self-serving attitudes negate mutual relationship—the very thing needed to combat chronic shame. Mann believes we need a “more biblical account” of sin that speaks “about the atonement as a restoration and reconciliation between relational beings, both human and divine, who too often live with an absence of mutual, intimate, undistorted relating” (49).

In section two, Mann unpacks narrative therapy vis-à-vis shame. The chronically shamed individual, who feels they are “utterly deficient as a human being, incapable of maintaining…self-coherence and inner-relatedness” (32), needs a counter-narrative. Because the chronically shamed presents a false-self (or an “ontologically-incoherent self,” which describes the fundamental nature of narrative to personhood), a coherent counter-narrative must be presented, accepted, and abided in by the individual. Such counter-narratives are presented by “Other(s),” whom the chronically shamed avoids. Mann suggests that listening to the narratives of the chronically shamed, may produce intimacy (88) by providing a sense of accountability and allowing a merger of narratives. This merger of narratives is a conversion—a reconsideration of a person’s identity by reworking their personal narratives (90). Christian salvation includes such conversions around Jesus Christ’s narrative.

But how is this salvific? How does Jesus save? Mann, in section three, presents his answer: the Jesus’ narrative is salvific/atoning, because Jesus is at-one with himself; Jesus’ obedience to Golgotha shows “mutual, undistorted, unpolluted relationship” with his Father (112). Jesus refuses to present a false-self, and presents an ontologically-coherent self, providing hope that the chronically shamed can be liberated from their own narratival incoherence (113), to enjoy similar relationship with God. The cross displays Jesus’ bravery by his literal and figurative exposure—something the chronically shamed avoids at all costs. Here Jesus’ at-one-ment with his story is revealed (136-37). Participating in this story makes the individual ‘at-one.’

In section four, Mann examines the Eucharist as an act in which the counter-narrative of Jesus might be indwelled. First, it connects the individual’s story with God’s story. Jesus’ narrative, displayed in the Eucharist, calls the celebrants to reorient their lives with Jesus’ story (159-60), so that as individuals may enjoy mutual, undistorted, unpolluted relating, as well. The Eucharistic table, then, mirrors the symbolism of the cross (167).

Atonement for a Sinless Society is both theologically creative and practical. Mann’s work takes seriously contemporary culture, attempting its intersection with atonement theology. The category ‘chronic shame’ facilitates Mann’s desire for a “new Pentecost” (2), facilitating better speakers and listeners in this culture.

In spite of these plusses, its abstractness hinders encouraging evangelistic believers to nuance their spiritual conversations with unbelievers and can lead to rhetorical flourish. For example, Mann writes,

…as Jesus stretches his arms out along the crossbeam, he is…symbolically holding together his own story and ‘exposing’ his real-self without fear of incoherence or…chronic shame that haunts the postmodern self; for he is, at this moment, ‘at-one’ (136-37).

Such rhetoric risks ignoring and abstracting the physical pain of the cross. This may be connected to Mann’s belief that atonement is “concerned above all” with mutual relationship rather than “appeasing…a God angered by the misdeeds of his creatures” (94). However, Mann does refer to Jesus’ “substitutionary death” (144)—one that demands our own response—and does not deny penal substitution explicitly. Overall, Mann’s deep concern for shame leads to his abstract reflection of the cross.

Mann’s concern, however, overemphasizes individuality. Mann writes, “The self-stories [the post-industrialized] tell, which isolate them from meaningful, human interface, effectively turn them into a-moral or, perhaps more accurately, pre-moral, beings.” This pre-morality also means they are pre-social (53). Contra Mann (and Rousseau), the pre-social individual is nonexistent. No individual has ever emerged into being by herself, but is always produced by another human; birth is necessarily social. Without community, the shamed individual could not learn a language by which to express their story and so any telling is already influenced by some community.

In all, Mann has written a valuable book for contemporary atonement studies, certainly pertinent to an upper-level undergraduate course on evangelizing post-moderns. While its abstractness forces a careful read, this practice may develop listening skills for conversing with the chronically shamed who struggle to concretize personal narratives. Therefore, Mann’s work will benefit those at the intersection of counseling/therapy and theology, and those interested in a psychologically sensitive praxis of atonement.

Shame, Violence, and Communion

I will be heading to the Wesleyan Theological Society in March to present my paper, "Bind us Together: Exploring the Day of Atonement and Communion as Counteractions to Shame and Violence." Recent studies show that one cause of shame is disbondedness (disconnectedness) and that one symptom of shame is violence. My thesis is that in light of these considerations of shame and violence, we can consider the Day of Atonement as providing a place for violence otherwise prohibited, emptying shame of this effect, and restoring community, counteracting the cause of shame. Communion can be considered in a similar way: By celebrating the death of Jesus, the community sees the end of sacrificial violence, and is bound together, thereby emptying shame of one of its effects, even while the continued practice of communion further binds its celebrants together.