I am continuing to read Crisp’s and Rea’s Analytic Theology; should complete it sometime tomorrow. Many of you don’t know, and don’t care to know, that there is 
a difference between analytic theology and what has been called ‘Continental Theology’ (which is the influence you get here when you read my blog). The foremost example of Continental Theology is Karl Barth. ‘CT’ takes its cues from following the philosophical paths ofΒ European philosophers like: Hiedeggar, Husserl, Hegel, [Einstein, for good measure — even though not a philosopher, per se]Β and Kant; to name a few. Analytic Theologians follow in the footsteps of Hellenistic philosophy, and other European philosophers; like: Aristotle, Plato, Descartes, and a host of others. Ultimately, I really have no empathy for Analytic Theology. When I read it, or try to think it; it actually upsets me! I think it represents an abject loss for providing fruitful and creative ways for thinking about and articulating who God is. I would suggest that the reason this is the case is primarily because of their metaphysics (substance), and their method (mathematical). To this end, let me give you an example of what I mean. The following is from Thomas Crisp’s (an Analytic Theologian-Philosopher who teaches Philosophy at Biola University in La Mirada, CA — very close to where I grew up) chapter in the book ‘Analytic Theology’ (his chapter is entitled: “Believing the Scriptures Divinely Inspired). HereΒ he is doing some preliminary work that I am hoping will set up the rest of his chapter in some comprehendible way; he is sketching Alvin Plantiga’s critique of natural theology’s capacities to provide something helpful for establishing the justification for “Believing the Scriptures Divinely Inspired.”
[P]lantiga has argued that attempts to argue for ‘the great things of the gospel’ (i.e. incarnation, atonement, Jesus’ resurrection) on the basis of natural theology and historical argument suffer from a problem he dubs the ‘Principle of Dwindling Probabilties’.
The Principle of Dwindling Probabilities afflicts arguments with a certain structure. Suppose you want to show some proposition P probable on our background knowledge K. You might do that by producing some other proposition A, showing that P (A/K) and P (P/A&K) are high, and concluding that, by the probability calculus, it follows that P (P/K) is high.
You might however, try to show that P (P/K) is high by iterating the above procedure, arguing that some proposition A is probable on K, that some other proposition B is probable on A&K, and that P is probable on A&B&K, concluding that, therefore, P is probable on K. But such an argument is subject to Plantiga’s Principle. If all you’ve said is that P (A/K), P (B/A&K), and P (P/A&B&K) are high, say around .8 each, then, so far, all that follows from the probability calculus is that P (P/K) is greater than or equal to .8 x .8 x .8, a tad higher than .5. Though the conditional probabilties P (A/K), P (B/A&K), and P (P/A&B&K) are each high, the probabilties ‘dwindle’ when you multiply them through.
This Principle of Dwindling Probabilties (PDP), then, makes trouble for arguments with the foregoing iterative structure, arguments that attempt to motivate the claim that P (P/K) is high for some P by arguing, for some Q1 . .Β . Qn, that P (Q1/K), P (Q2/Q1&K), . . . , P (Qn/Q1& . . . Qn-1&K), and P (P/Q1& . . . &Qn&K) are high. [Thomas Crisp in “Analytic Theology,” eds. Oliver Crisp & Michael Rea, 190-91]
I know that was complex; let me explain for the dense of heart. So if ABCDEFGHIJK then LMNOPQRSTUVWXY&Z. Further there are some who like to use A1 on their KFC; which for others equals a no go in their 300Z.
Just today I made a cryptic comment on my Facebook wall that I was sure that most ‘Analytic Theologians’ must’ve been engineers or something in their former life. Ironically, I checked out Thomas Crisp’s CV; and his undergrad degree is in Civil Engineering from UCLA.
As I have mentioned before, doing theology as math should have no place in the theologian’s mode of operation. In my view, the effect this has when done, supposedly in the service of God, is to depersonalize Him through using cold formulaic apparatus that does not befit the Christian God of love. I would love to see an Analytic Theologian go home to his wife, and describe his love for her through calculus formula, statistics, and mathematical theorems and equations; that probably wouldn’t go over to well. If this is the case, why do said ‘Analytic Theologians’ feel justified when talking about humanties’ relationship to the Greatest Lover of all, God, in this way? No thank you . . .
Bobby, as you know I share your frustration and occasional mystification at the discipline of analytic theology. I’ll leave it to the analytic theologians to defend their methodology and its value for theological inquiry. I won’t say that it has no place, but I do think that each and every time this tool is pulled out of the toolbox its use ought to be explicitly justified and delimited.
It’s no surprise that many analytic theologians, in turn, find dogmaticians like Karl Barth so equally mystifying. Dialectical theology is the polar opposite of analytics: it expresses theological concepts in mathematically (or “logically,” if you prefer) irreconcilable terms. And yet dialectics has proven to be profoundly useful for the contemplation of Christian theology. For those of us sympathetic with what you’ve identified as continental theology, and therefore skeptical of analytic philosophy, demonstrations of the failure of logic on the part of dialecticians and other systematic theologians simply betrays the fact that the analytic theologian has failed to understand her subject at a most basic level.
“There are some who like to use A1 on their KFC” … now that one is going down in the history books!
Bobby,
I can see (and partly share) your perplexity with this technical side of philosophical theology. However, I’m not sure you are doing justice to the whole project of analytical theology. So, I offer three reasons for a more positive view:
1. The whole project of this philosophical theology was born in philosophical circles! That’s important, because in that days (the early days of Plantinga and Wolterstorff), there was no space for talk about God at the philosophy departments. What they did, and others in their trail, was talking about God with a philosophical ‘toolbox’ and by doing that defeating the main objections against christian faith. (You can read this story in Wolterstorff’s chapter).
2. In judging the quality of this book I feel you should take, not the worst (in this case in the sense of the most technical) of the authors, but the best! I’m sure there are chapters in the book that are far more intelligible, but also sensitive, than this one. I think of the chapter written by Eleonore Stump. She argues for the need of stories while dealing with the problem of evil.
3. The argument that this kind of reasoning is not fitting with God’s love, has an initial plausiblity. But one could ask: why then doing theology and the hard work of thinking about God and his love at all?
So, your criticism might be understandable, but according to me it’s too easy-going… π
@Darren,
You’re much more the diplomat than I π .
I’m not saying that ‘Analytics’ in general has “no place,” but when Analytics devolves into literally doing calculus and math; then I suggest it has no place.
I have no problem with engaging modal logic, but that again is not equal to (pardon the pun) literally doing math; and Thomas Crisp’s whole argument and chapter turns out to hinge on calculus. This obviously doesn’t make his conclusions false, per se; but it definitely privileges his mode of discourse in a way that allows his practice to be the only viable method for producing a ‘justified belief’ for believing in the inspiration of the Scripture. And in this sense I would say that his initial supposition about methodology and argument is wrong; because it is theologically aloof, and philosophically (Analytically so) on steroids.
I grew up around those who mocked Karl Barth, and in a sub-culture (Southern California) that was given shape by the influence of Talbot Theological Seminary and Biola; ironically where Thomas Crisp now teaches. Back then it was just JP Moreland, and a few others. What you call dialectics (which is a good way of polarizing these two), for me, has provided a breath of fresh air. I used to believe, until seminary, that the only “way” to do scholarly academic theology was through the lens provided by Analytics. I was depressed (seriously), and knew there was something wrong with this. Thankfully I was introduced to a better way. Through exposure, at first, through Colin Gunton; but then finally with meeting Barth, Torrance, and a whole host of others who have provided me with hope for the task at hand. That is Christian Theology.
@Arjen,
Some context (as I briefly alluded to with Darren). At least in America, and in the Evangelical sub-culture I have grown up in (and continue to inhabit); Analytic Theology is the only game in town (or so it has been portrayed!). I grew up under the constraints that the suppositions of Analytic Theology produce theologically proper (and every other subsequent ology that follows). Analytic Theology is highly prominent where I grew up geographically (right next to Talbot and Biola where Thomas Crisp teaches). As a result I felt the weight and influence of this mood for years and years (I myself two separate times, after undergrad was on my way to Talbot to do their MA in Philosophy of Religion — I have good friends, and one former prof who have done this program — in fact one of those friends is one of the editors for Philosophia Christi journal out of Talbot/Biola). As you can see, this has all left a very bad taste in my mouth, which sometimes results in me spitting (like this blog post) in order to get it out.
1) You: The whole project of this philosophical theology was born in philosophical circles! Thatβs important, because in that days (the early days of Plantinga and Wolterstorff), there was no space for talk about God at the philosophy departments. What they did, and others in their trail, was talking about God with a philosophical βtoolboxβ and by doing that defeating the main objections against christian faith. (You can read this story in Wolterstorffβs chapter). Me: Which to me is part of the problem. I understand how AT got started, and from whence it came; but all that does is describe the history of its origin, it does not comment on its “justification” for continuing to exist as its own discipline and entity. It is apologetics then, and not a proper Theological discipline in itself. It is seeking a way to find respectability amongst its other academic peers [a theology of glory]. It is continuing the Fundamentalist mantle, allowing the academy to define the arguments to which the Analytic Theologian feels burdened to answer. I don’t find the genetics of AT to be persuasive, or even to provide perspective for their continued and supposed distinct role as a Christian Theological Discipline. What is their guiding theological anthropology, for example? It is intellectualism of one form or another.
2) This post does not represent my forthcoming book review. This post is a bloggy jab at one particular chapter in this book. If I worked in the PR department for Analytic Theology, I wouldn’t allow a chapter like Thomas Crisp’s out of the Analytic faculty break room. There are better chapters in the book. I found Wolsterstaff’s to be insightful for example. I just finished Crisps. I realize AT represents a continuum. McCall’s chapter sought to appropriate Karl Barth for the Analytic Theologian, but he only does so, I think, by misconstruing Karl Barth’s theory of revelation. Yet, this whole book ultimately, in mostly soft ways, represents an attack on what Darren has called dialectic theology. And that’s fine, but then AT shouldn’t be surprised if folks who follow Continental modes respond (and truly my response comes from my personal context and experience with AT). Anyway, my review won’t even come close to sounding like this post; that’s why I have a blog π .
3) I don’t think thinking hard and Analytic Theology are synonymous. That seems to be the supposition of your point. And I am afraid that that is what people who are predisposed toward Analytic Theology believe as well.
Just read Richard Swinburne or Wolterstorff and all will be well. They have a nice mix of logical formulas and normal sentences. All in all I agree that it is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo boring to read this type of theology, but some of the conclusions they make are a bit more exciting, especially when they speak in plain language.
Kenny,
I agree with you. I’m not saying, through this post, that reading mathematical formulas represents all of Analytic Theology; but as you know, it does represent a large bulk. I do agree that some of the conclusions (even some of Crisp’s at the end of his chapter) are more exciting. I would just much rather see Analytic Theology be named Analytic Apologetics; I would have much less of a beef with it that way. I have read Wolterstorff and a bit of Swineburne. Wolterstorff’s chapter in this volume, for example was very readable. So all things aren’t exactly equal. My gripe was primarily provoked, thus far in this volume, by Crisp’s argument; it evoked bad memories of such things.
Bobby,
A short answer, because I’m under my way to a Bible group.
The most revealing answer to my points, was your reply to Darren. I do understand there is a personal story to tell. That was illuminating for me. My story is different: I owe a lot to this AT, especially by reading Wolterstorff, the best of them all, because he is writing in a personal and existential way.
Arjen
Arjen,
Wolterstorff’s chapter, in this volume, was good. I liked it as well; because he didn’t have any footnotes in his chapter π .
To be clear, I am not saying that these Analytic Theologians aren’t Christ followers, aren’t real people with real feelings, and aren’t genuine and passionate about what they are doing. It is just that there are certain things about this approach that evoke a visceral response from me, at points. Truth be told, for the most part, until this chapter, I was actually enjoying this book. Crisp’s chapter just reminded me in full force why I don’t ultimately appreciate Analytic Theology.
You’ll also have to understand, that I have heard Barth and others like him (Torrance) cajoled and demonized over and again. And either this comes from Analytic Theologian types and/or Federal Calvinists (Van Tilians); and/or just plaine ole’ American Evangelicals.
Bobby,
I think you are converting your feelings for logical and mathematical language and explanations into a flawed prescription against the discipline. You mentioned that an analytic theologian would not express his love for his wife in mathematical and logical statements because it is too cold. But your description of the math and logic as cold is your statement of preference. There are many people who find math and logic beautiful and comforting and would find such expressions of love wonderfully comforting. Math and logic are simply other languages that people can use to discover and express the truth God has revealed in Scripture and the world.
There is a danger amongst analytic theologians to start with natural revelation for descriptions of God instead of scripture, but there is no need to disparage a God created language and thought system because you do not express your love for God through it. Claiming that God cannot be worshiped or explained in mathematical or logical language because you find it cold compared to narrative or poetic language is akin to saying God cannot be described or loved in German or Russian because they are not as orally fluid as French or Italian.
I don’t think so, Daniel. The real point is that math represents static, fixed, determinative and even positivistic outcomes and realities. God is none of these, at least not according to who He has revealed himself to be in Christ.
I never said anything about usage of logic; that seems to be a given. Of course “how” its used is not a given.
Daniel,
And I also never said that I don’t think math is beautiful or elegant, or what have you; only that I don’t think it should be used to prove something about God, or to prove God.
Bobby,
You wrote: “Youβll also have to understand, that I have heard Barth and others like him (Torrance) cajoled and demonized over and again. And either this comes from Analytic Theologian types and/or Federal Calvinists (Van Tilians); and/or just plaine oleβ American Evangelicals.”
As I said: that personal side was new to me. Here in the Netherlands, we have also a separation between ‘Barthians’ and ‘analytic theologians’, but it is not quite like your description (at least according to my experience).
According to me, the discussion between these two ‘camps’ is helpful for both. For the analytics in order not to forget about Whom we are talking, the wholly Other. For the Barthians in order to to be reminded to the question whether their dialectical utterances make somehow sense…
Arjen,
Your relationship in the Netherlands sounds much healthier than in the US; at least in my experience of it, largely in the Evangelical world.
I hope you had a good Bible study! π
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Wow, I am shocked, surprised and amused, all at once. Allow me to explain. I am personally not only for analytic theology, but I also think that it is necessary and good. I suppose I feel something like the Scholastics must have felt when adopting Aristotle’s philosophy and synthesizing it with their Christian beliefs. I submit that clear and cogent thinking is the only way for Theology to remain an intellectually live option today, especially after Bonaventure’s prophesy about the end of rational theology. I also have a strong aversion to people like Barth who would have nothing to do with Natural Theology in principle.
“doing theology as math should have no place in the theologianβs mode of operation.” – I can think of no good reason why this should be the case. Moreover, I hope you aren’t suggesting that Mathematicians cannot love their husbands or wives because they employ logic.. Indeed, what of Logicians? Haven’t the very best and most loving of the saints often been logicians? As the English Vita of St. Anthony of Padua reads “can an angel in behavior be other than an angel in wit?” Of course I don’t propose that dogmatically, but think of the examples we have on hand. What of Peter Abelard, St. Augustine, Boethius, Bonaventure, Thomas Aquinas, (and the list goes on)? I see nothing in them which betrays sanctity or theology. I see no reason why employing logical rigor should challenge faith, hope or love. In fact, I see only ‘faith seeking understanding’ which is, after all, the classical definition of Theology from Anselm.
Perhaps it should suffice to say that I find myself in solid disagreement with you on this point, though I hope to be respectful in my present reflection. I am not surprised to find myself in disagreement with others on this point. What surprises me most, perhaps, is that I can think of no good reason why some critics, such as yourself, oppose analytic theology. I have absolutely no sympathy. Perhaps a contributing factor here is the fact that I am strongly informed by my Catholicism?
Hi Tyler,
Based on your comment, I don’t think you have carefully read what I have already written. Reread my post and the comments that precede yours. I have already addressed “math and love” (which you have really misread me, or you haven’t read me), and also the nature of modal logic (and my appreciation for it) V. your supposition that Analytic Theology=rigor and logic, which it doesn’t (you can have logic and rigor w/o Analytic Theology). As far as Barth, sorry. If you’re Catholic then you’re probably quite Thomist; again, sorry π . Btw, Barth is very Anselmian, and his analogy of faith, in my mind, fits much better with the Fides Quaerens Intellectum than does the scholastic/Thomist analogy of being.
Anyway, reread what I already wrote and see what you think.
Maybe, Tyler, I should just say that I don’t like substance metaphysics (instead of Analytic Theology, even though AT imbibes these metaphysics). Substance metaphysics, of necessity, depersonalizes God and Christian Theology; it requires a methodology of abstraction and logical-deduction wherein we end up with a God who must relate to his creation through impersonal decrees (absolutum decretum), or through “Law.” None of this jives with the Triune God we meet in Jesus Christ! I follow what TF Torrance has called an ‘onto-relational’ metaphysic which takes shape through God’s self-revelation in Christ (a ‘being-in-subject’ metaphysic).
I don’t want to totally bad-mouth Thomas. He helped moved Christian theology towards thinking analogically, for example; but his metaphysics simply weren’t intended for Christian Theology, simpliciter.
I think this must be where we part ways: your aversion of Substance metaphysics, which is necessary for any Catholic theology by definition. I myself am quite fond of St. Thomas, but I would actually say that I might incline more towards Bonaventure than Aquinas on a number of issues, not least of which is epistemology and broad construal of metaphysics. Perhaps, though, you would be interested in Bonaventure’s system where he retains the Augustinian position of Exemplarism, according to which God is not only psychologically first known but also that which in turn provides for the intelligibility of the world. I certainly see no problems with that and I suspect you might appreciate reading about it. (Check Andreas Speer in particular).
I should note in defense of substance realism that any suggestion to the contrary is, I suspect and submit, ultimately going to stand under the verdict of incoherence. I often find I hit a wall with those who are inclined to agree with continental lines of reasoning precisely because I cannot make sense of them, and I suspect at bottom it is because they don’t make much sense. Karl Barth, for instance, seems to want to do away with the language of analogy applied to God, without realizing that since no univocal statement about God can be coherent, this means that not only is all predication in theology meaningless, but more significantly the proposition “God exists” is meaningless. Of course Duns Scotus thought that was a univocal statement, but that’s clearly not true, as the definition of God involves existence necessarily, making the predication redundant unless it is issued in a language of analogy. Therefore, it seems to me, God can only be related as a subject is to a predicate by a logic of analogy.
Finally, having taken a closer look at your comments, I would like to submit, with respect, that apologetics is not only a proper sub-discipline of theology, but that if Analytic Theology is really one way of doing apologetics then it ought to be judged by it’s apologetic success.Certainly there are some people who, if they had no contact with analytic theology, would not understand theology to be intellectually live in the William James-ian sense. This also implies that an Analytic theologian may be interested in doing much of their theology without employing AT, and may only employ it when they find it particularly helpful or useful.
Thus to suggest that to do analytic theology “is to depersonalize [God] through using cold formulaic apparatus that does not befit the Christian God of love” is at least a crude and at most incoherent. I hope this point is well received, as it is all well intended.
Tyler,
I’ve read some of Bonaventure, and about his theology; and I liked him.
Barth and Torrance follow the analogy</strong of faith (‘analogia fidei’). Your point on analogy is misdirected.
It is true that there is a self-referential value to apologetics within the AT construct. I am not suggesting that there is no place for AT; just that there is no place for it with me.
When the God is construed, by way of methodology, as a “substance;” then by definition this is not personal. That does not mean that an analytic theologian can’t try to make a substance a person, for she does; but it does still mean that a substance (like stuff or concrete) will never be an animate person by definition. And thus a substance is impersonal, and thus my point is not incoherent. It is incoherent to think that a substance and a person can be mutually implicating things; which is why substance metaphysics has no verve.
But you’re right, Tyler, we depart at a very fundamental level.
I wonder what you make of Boethius’ definition that “a person is just an individual substance of a rational nature”?
Also, I don’t think my comment about Barth was misdirected. I was trying to show that while Barth believed in something he wanted to call analogy, his system is ultimately incoherent. Perhaps I should point out that I am assuming the Thomistic definition of analogy in my critique (perhaps that should have been more clear). In any case, I submit that Barth has failed to realize that his ‘analogia fidei’, his entire approach to theology, is fundamentally logically self-referentially incoherent.
Perhaps we do depart at a very fundamental level, but that is, to my mind, a fantastic reason for me to try to better understand where you are coming from. I suspect that ultimately there is hidden incoherence which has to be smoked out – but whether or not there is, it is certainly still interesting to explore a radically different approach to faith, theology and philosophy.
Hi Tyler: I haven’t commented on this thread in a while, but as you may have seen in my comment above, it doesn’t surprise me at all that an analytic theologian would find Barth mystifying. May I ask, why do you think his approach to theology is “logically and self-referentially incoherent?” This may help get to the bottom of why analytic theologians and ‘dialecticians’ have trouble seeing eye-to-eye.
Let’s take the Incarnation, as an example. In my reading of analytic theology, this is generally 1) taken to be a metaphysical ‘puzzle’ of how to logically account for the presence of two natures, two wills, etc. within a single subject of attribution. All well and good, I think, and a helpful place to begin to think about God’s presence with humanity and as a human. But the problem of the union of divinity and humanity, as I see it, is finally not logical: as Barth says, we stand before a mystery, something which from a human point of view is finally impossible, and yet we confess that God has done this. When the Incarnation becomes metaphysically explainable, I fear, it is no longer a divine miracle — the overcoming of the gap between creation and a Creator who is essentially wholly Other.
Darren,
First, I should refer you to my above posts for my explanation of why Barth is being incoherent, as I tried to briefly explain there – see what you think after reading it.
In response to your comments, I would say that it is, I submit, unhealthy to think that mysteries must be logical paradoxes. Mysteries are things which we can analyze, but which we cannot completely fathom. I take it that nothing in Christian theology is logically impossible. Indeed, if we are Christians we ought to be committed to at least a weak form of rationalism (that is, that there is an objective external world, and that our minds have the means, in principle, to re-cognize that world because they have been endowed with the rational faculty). Thus, when one demonstrates that things like the incarnation are logically possible they open the way for people who are not irrationalists to recognize the suggestion as intellectually live. If the incarnation were logically impossible, then I would not know how to believe it, since I would not have any idea what it was – just the same way as I cannot imagine, try as I might, a square circle. To say that God can create square circles, and then when reproached for being logically inconsistent responding “yeah, but it’s a mystery, that’s the whole point” you are violating the Gospel in the most tremendous way. Nobody (with the noted exception of Rene Descartes) has ever thought that God could do the logically impossible, since the logically impossible simply doesn’t ‘exist’.
Obviously Catholics are committed to the idea that any similarity between creator and creation is tempered by a much greater dissimilarity in the act of creation (fourth Lateran Council), still this doesn’t exclude being able to do things such as prove the existence of God (yes, I do mean prove in a strong sense). Knowing God remains a mystery, and this mystery is in no way challenged by the demonstration that it is logically possible for a subject to know God personally. Similarly things like the Eucharist being logically possible, or the incarnation or the Trinity or (and the list goes on) being possible does not challenge Christianity’s being a mystery.
I disagree with the idea of this article. Too many people are sentimental about religion; believing that the “heart” will inevitably guide them to the truth. But? The Bible often warned that “the heart is deceitful above all things” (Jer.).
So mere sentiment is not enough.
Instead? We should develop the “mind of Christ.”
“Come, let us reason together.”
@Tyler,
I am curious; how much of Barth have you read? (or what of?)
Boethius’ statement is fine as far as it goes, but of course that statement by itself needs more context. But, as is, even in this statement there is a problem; that is that there is an ‘apparent’ distinction being made between substance and person; of which the person subsists from the substance (whatever that is). This same kind of defunct thinking is applied to God wherein the persons of God subsist from the substance known as ‘God’ or ‘godness’. This places a rupture between God’s person[s] and being that disjoints the integrity of God’s self-revelation which is Triune; because God’s integrity as God is contingent upon the mutual coinherence of the Father in subject with the Son in subject with the Holy Spirit. In a Boethiusian world (as I read your little quote from him) God’s being does not of necessity need his persons; they simply subsist (along with the rest of creation).
I enjoy the opportunity to dialogue with you–my analytic brother–don’t be too scarce.
@Brett,
There is no one here, as I gather, who wants to disparage the heart or mind. I see this dichotomy as false; instead I see humanity as an integrated whole (e.g. I am not as interested in the tripartite faculty psychology as I once was—although it is helpful to understand when discussing historical theology, esp. Medieval theology). Other than that, I don’t think anyone here, me included, is anti-thinking; in fact that is the presupposition of this post and everything that I do—i.e. that we need to love God rightly that we might think God rightly—and these two realities mutually inform the other in dialectic relation. And of course I don’t believe we can do any of this, dogmatically, without (but only from within) the vicarious humanity of Christ.
concerning Karl Barth: I have read little to nothing by him, I must admit, though he’s on my schedule for my Honors Theology program. Still, I agree fundamentally with the Critiques of him offered by such theologians as Cardinal Ratzinger, the now Pope Benedict XVI, for whom I have tremendous respect and admiration. Obviously I know enough about Barth to think I can at least take part in a conversation about him – but I have not committed myself to reading him yet. The particular critique I am leveling against him here comes in part as a product of my views as they have evolved in discussion with atheists about natural theology, the definition of theism, and predication in analogous language games.
In response to what is said about Boethius, I think Aquinas does a marvelous job of dissolving the concern you raise when he raises the question of how substance-language and metaphysics stand in the face of the reality of the Trinity in the summa (question 27, Pars Prima). I also think Bonaventure does an even better job in his commentary on the sentences of Peter Lombard, in Book 1, Distinction II, Article I, Questions 1,2,3,4: http://www.franciscan-archive.org/bonaventura/opera/bon01053.html). The point is that from an exemplarist perspective, or else a more aristotelian-scholastic perspective, substance metaphysics poses only a superficial challenge to the mystery of the Trinity. God does indeed require his persons, as is proved in Bonaventure, and God’s persons do not relate to God as a substance in the way you imagine, as Aquinas explains.
Moreover, Substance-metaphysics is necessary if we wish to speak coherently about propositions. Substances are simply ‘things’. To deny that things exist in the mind of God would be catastrophic. How would we ever make sense of God’s omniscience? Of course, I suspect my view on this particular point will change and evolve as I continue to read Bonaventure some more, but that’s my impression currently.
Tyler,
1) This is a point of prolegomena that we simply are far apart on; that is the rationale for theology to begin with. Your point on discussion with atheists is illuminating, and illustrates a distinction between doing ‘Christian’ theology V. Analytic Theology that can be ‘Christian’ (or whatever other religion one wants to fill in the blank with).
2) I’ve interacted with a Protestant scholastic in the past who was doing his PhD on Thomas, and I understand Thomas’ approach to this question; and I simply don’t buy it, even with his sophistication. I’ll read Bonaventure over when I have the chance, thanks for the link.
3) But you’re not suggesting that logical coherence requires substance metaphysics are you? I think logical coherence comes from the object of disclosure under consideration, and in our case that logical coherence is a subject who imposes himself upon us so that our knowledge of the object we are considering provides his own set of categories and emphases so that We aren’t making the sense of God’s omnis; this can be called an epistemological inversion. We are acted upon by God through Christ, and taken up into his own self-revelation which is always opened up to a fuller grasping of him. This comes from an onto-relational metaphysic, a personal metaphysic, definitionally. Anyway, we really disagree about this.
Hi, Tyler — It is indeed difficult to have regard for a critique of Barth from one who has not engaged him directly. I imagine the sources of the criticisms are other thinkers whose work you respect and trust (such as Ratzinger); in that case, I’d only ask you to consider that if Barthians don’t think a charge sticks, be wary of adopting them. Barth can be (and has been) legitmately critized on many fronts — but to say, for example, that he has no room for analogy in his thought is simply false. But when Barthians think you are getting Barth right, then there is at least ground for legitimate differences of opinion.
The argument of incoherence (not simply with respect to Barth) also won’t get you very far. Of course we non-analytic theologians are not arguing for incoherence when we suggest that theology deals with divine mysteries. ‘Analytic’ or not, we are all seeking to apply the tools of reason to theological inquiry. In my experience, the charge of incoherence from analytic theologians directed at their non-analytic peers usually stems from two-dimensional (what Bobby calls “mathematical”) thinking: the conviction that one has sorted out all logical possibilities and correctly described the position in question without remainder. But theology is rarely so conceptually tidy.
Here is the (or: a) difference, as I see it: systematic or dogmatic theology, as it has typically been undertaken in the Christian tradition, begins with the presumption that human speech about God is possible only because God has made it to be possible. God has 1) revealed God’s self; and 2) sanctified human thought and speech to be able to utter true things about God and His relation to creation. In this respect, as Bobby suggested, the Subject of theology determines not only the method of inquiry but the very possibility of inquiry.
Analytic or philosophical theology, as I see it, may agree that all of this is well and good; but its more basic starting point is with human (rational) capacity. God may have revealed to us this or that, but even if He had not we would still be able to say a great deal about God and God’s relation to creation based on the created capacity of human reason. Of ourselves, for example, we can comprehend logical contradictions (God cannot be simultaneously both X and Y, where X and Y are mutually exclusive — e.g. finite and infinite). The analytic approach is anthropocentric. Will all due respect to its rigor and its apologetic value, such approaches to theological inquiry are vulnerable to theological critiques which cannot be easily dismissed (see also: what the twentieth century thinks of the nineteenth).
On the Incarnation, then, the point is not to affirm a logical impossibility, but that the union of divine and human natures in a single subject is a divine act. From a human point of view, it appears to be an impossible thing. Yet it is not “logically impossible,” to borrow your phrase, precisely because we affirm it to be a divine act. What is impossible with man is possible with God. This is not a mystery that can be comprehended by anthropocentric theology.
On the topic of substance metaphysics, versus other options, I may be getting sidetracked by your statement that such is “necessary for any Catholic theology by definition.” Would you say this is also true of any Christian theology, or any orthodox theology? If so, what reason would you give for suggesting that a theology could not follow another metaphysic (or “post-metaphysical” ontology), such as Hegelianism (often suggested of Barth), and remain Christian?
Perhaps I will try to respond to both of you at once, in turn. First, to Bobby,
1) Perhaps there is that relevant difference between Christian theology and analytic theology which happens, accidentally, to be Christian. What I would suggest is that a Christian Theology can always in principle be open to the analytic method so as to be issued in its language and explored according to its means.
2) I am glad that you will read Bonaventure, and I would love to hear your thoughts when you do, though it may not be a ‘game-changer’ as far as the present conversation is concerned.
3) I suspect that logical coherence may imply substance-metaphysics, though perhaps we mean different things by substance-metaphysics, since what you are proposing sounds very much like a de-Catholicized version of Bonaventure’s Exemplarism. I would love (really actually) to hear what you specifically think of Bonaventure’s epistemology as it relates to the question of metaphysics.
Even if we do disagree fundamentally, and the conversation would have to take place on a different level (I suppose on the level of whether Catholicism is entailed by Christianity as a necessary cognate or not, which as a convert I maintain that it is – though I do not intend to be presumptuous or rude by that statement here – and since Catholicism requires for the Eucharistic logic something like a substance-metaphysic ergo etc.) the conversation is still enjoyable.
To Darren;
I would like to reiterate that, although I haven’t read Barth yet, my criticism of him presented here is quite uniquely mine (at least to my knowledge) and I suspect that it expresses a legitimate concern. My argument is simply that although Barth implies analogy, his rejection of the whole project of natural theology, and therefore rejection of the necessary ‘analogous’ language-game upon the assumption of which Natural theology is built, is self defeating. Since the only way for the proposition “God Exists” to be intelligible it requires the strong sense of analogous language which logically entails the legitimacy of Natural Theology. This is my contention. Of course, I respect your option to dismiss this criticism until I’ve actually read Barth, but I present this criticism tentatively only because I strongly suspect that reading him will only solidify my conviction that this is a legitimate criticism.
In any case, concerning how conceptually tidy theology is – it seems to me it is as tidy as one chooses to make it using logical rigor.
I strongly agree with your point expressed here: “[that Theology] begins with the presumption that human speech about God is possible only because God has made it to be possible. God has 1) revealed Godβs self; and 2) sanctified human thought and speech to be able to utter true things about God and His relation to creation. In this respect, as Bobby suggested, the Subject of theology determines not only the method of inquiry but the very possibility of inquiry.” The point of departure, if there is one at all, seems to be with the degree and quality of the first or the second. Catholics will often appeal, for instance, to general revelation as expressed by St. Paul in Romans 1:20 (Quoting, incidentally, Wisdom 13:5 – recommend Wisdom 13:1-9). However, when you say that, according to analytic theology “God may have revealed to us this or that, but even if He had not we would still be able to say a great deal about God and Godβs relation to creation based on the created capacity of human reason.” – I feel this is a misrepresentation of analytic theologians. Rather, human reason is presumed to be a product of God’s grace, and the demonstrations which the method yields simply don’t involve that presupposition. This commitment of what might be called tempered Rationalism is a properly theistic and Christian conviction, not being vainly anthropocentric, but trusting in the faculties of man on the supposition of the rational faculty existing in man as a vestige of God’s image.
If you intended this weaker sense of impossibility (impossible for man by any of the means at his disposal for achieving the incarnation), rather than logical impossibility, then I apologize for my misunderstanding – it was not intentional.
Finally, I would say that protestant theologies do not require a substance-metaphysic. One of the reasons, apart from commitments to a broad and tempered rationalism (certainly more modest than a robust rationalism such as characterize the 17th century thinkers) which Catholicism implies a substance-metaphysic is that it is required for the doctrine of the Eucharist. Of course, it may be variously expressed, but the fundamental commitment to the doctrine involves necessarily a substance-accident distinction in such a way that it becomes difficult to imagine another metaphysic (even, say, phenomenological realism) as providing the Catholic Church the means for expressing the same mystery. Remember that even Leibniz’s monadology failed to capture the precise sense of transubstantiation required for Catholic dogma. The discussion must, as I have suggested above to Bobby, continue on a different level – on the level of broad Christian theologies. I am committed to the idea that Catholicism is not merely one among other possible Christian ‘options’ but rather represents the only coherent way to make sense of Christianity (again, apologize for dropping a bombshell for which I cannot afford, here, to spend time in developing an argument). Thus, there is no necessity to maintain a substance-metaphysic on protestantism, but there is one on Catholicism, and thus to the extent that I think Catholic theology just ‘IS’ reflective of Christian theology, to that extent I simply cannot imagine Christianity without a substance-metaphysic.
I hope this message meets you both well.
@Tyler,
1) I am not closed to rigor of thought or even usage of modal logic for example. But, I still believe there is more to this, and Analytic Theology, than that. There is a metaphysic; which I already noted, and one that I disagree with for various reasons.
2) I will read Bonaventure at some point. I’ll probably post something on him when I do.
3) I can see how you think that Catholicism necessitates substance meta., and indeed its history is readily shaped by that. But I don’t think this is a necessary adjunct for Catholicism, simplicter. Hans Urs von Balthasar took a different route (although I haven’t read enough of him to be dogmatic on this) through his ‘theo-drama’ thesis.
But either way, Tyler, I look forward to further interaction.
Tyler: That’s a big help in figuring out where you are coming from, and the sort of analytic theology you are advocating. (Perhaps there are various strands of this subdiscipline, and the modern Protestant versions Bobby and I have come across are methodologically somewhat different.)
When you do get to studying Barth on analogy, might I recommend a couple of titles? Keith Johnson’s Karl Barth and the Analogia Entis, and also the collection of papers from a Catholic-Evangelical conference in Washington, D.C. on the topic (titled The Analogia Entis: Inventions of the Antichrist or the Wisdom of God?) are both important stops on the way to coming to terms with just what Barth does (and does not) think about the validity of analogy language.
Best to you in your future studies.
I’m sorry my response comes so late; I’ll be brief.
Thank you both for the suggestions and the charitable tone of conversation. I look forward to learning more about Barth, and perhaps I’ll be better able to give my thoughts and reflections after such a time. I also look forward to any posts which you, Bobby, might write about Bonaventure.
I do think you’re right to say, Bobby, that Catholicism doesn’t require substance metaphysics necessarily, but that’s why I was trying to say that it requires something like it. I simply cannot think of an alternative, but any alternative would have to preserve a real distinction between what a thing is, and the sum of all its accidents. I also note that other views which seem promising on first blush, such as Leibniz’ monadology, do not provide a strong enough version of transubstantiation to satisfy Catholic dogma. Even if Van Balthasar tried to suggest something different (which I may know less about then you do) to be acceptable it would have to satisfy Catholic doctrine even more strongly than Leibniz could. I, for my part, just do not know of any philosophically live alternative for a Catholic theology than a substance metaphysics – hence why I find it so comfortable, so to speak.
In any case, I look forward to further interactions and I will try to peruse your blog as time permits.
As a parting thought, I wonder if you guys could take a peek and tell me what you think of an analytic philosopher who does analytic theology on the ‘Catholic’ side of things, though he teaches as Baylor. Alexander Pruss, whose blog is here: http://alexanderpruss.blogspot.com/
He’s somebody who I respect a great deal, and who I discovered through William Lane Craig’s podcast, actually. Ever since stumbling upon him I have been periodically reading and greatly enjoying his blog posts and his papers. Let me know what you think.
God bless.
Hi Tyler,
I’ll check out Pruss, who I’ve heard of, when I get the chance. Thanks again for the engagement, and God bless you too!