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I was still in college during the 2000 presidential election, when the American democratic process was seemingly dissolving in front of our eyes. While it was spoken about several times in a religion course I was taking, a friend of mine told me that the professor of his “Introduction to Political Science” class had yet to mention it and, instead, had stuck to the outline of his old yellow notes. Given the events of this week, and the focus of this blog since its recent inception, I must warn you that this post is at risk of doing much the same, sticking to what I had planned to write on and excluding myself from the more pressing and important conversations of the day.
Yet, this backdrop of political concern and engagement is not something that is limited to this week or this blog, but it seems to have become the primary focus of scholarship at the fruitful nexus of continental philosophy and theology for the last couple of years (if not decades). While I have followed this trend with great interest, I would like to propose a new (and I would argue complementary) agenda or project for this field.
Simply put, it seems as though continental philosophy and theology have much to learn from some recent developments in cultural and historical studies. Such theologians and philosophers will most likely find themselves quite at home with these insights, as it was continental philosophy (read as “theory” in other departments) that loosened up the categories of historical and cultural analysis. While these other “fields” have attempted to return the favor, these contributions seem to often fall on deaf ears. It is as though the philosophical dynamism of Derrida is replaced by the categories of Harnack when one begins to speak about particular religious identities or historical situations.
Though this is undoubtedly an oversimplification, I would argue that the treatment of religious and historical categories and traditions is often a largely neglected aspect of the theology of this vein and that a more intentional consideration and interaction with these studies would be greatly beneficial. (Readers of the JCRT will certainly detect that there is nothing new about this, as Clayton Crockett and Jeffery Robbins made similar suggestions in their manifestos for the journal in 2004. More on this below.)
I am primarily interested in the manner in which a number of central categories are being rethought and de-naturalized. The most obvious of these is the category of “religion.” While this has certainly not been lost on continental philosophers and theologians (as exemplified by the work of Derrida and Hent de Vries), the work of Talal Asad and others has still not received the attention that it deserves. Despite several notable and varying exceptions, the uncritical use of the category of religion still seems to be defining and limiting the task of theology behind its back.
Questioning the concept of religion as it relates to theology opens up an entire nest of interrelated categories. Among them I would list “orthodoxy” (see Daniel Boyarin, Rebecca Lyman, and Virginia Burrus), “Europe” (see Edward Said, Dispesh Chakrabarty, and Gil Anidjar), “secularism” (see Asad again), “philosophy” (see Pierre Hadot and Andrea Nightingale), “the mystical” (see Richard King and Grace Jantzen) and “Platonism” (see Patricia Cox Miller and Michael Sells).
In arguing for the importance of these works I am not merely advocating that theologians and philosophers update their libraries or make their work conform to the trends and content of “social theory.” These cultural and historical studies seem to often import contradictions of their own, as the norms of scholarship (meaning the conformity to a certain structure, method, and authorial voice) seem to rely on an epistemological schema that is antagonistic to the complications and ambiguities with which they characterize their “content.” Therefore, I am not arguing for a simple division of labor in which theologians update their data with the newest historical findings. Instead, I am hoping that such a focus will demand a more direct treatment of the division between form and content that often trips up philosophy of religion and theology.
An example of this can be found in a criticism often waged against modes of theology that follow the lead of Derrida. This critique declares that he has a largely formalized account of religion, and that any work following his account can never be properly theological because it will always assume the emptying out of any “confessional content.” So long as one maintains 19th century religious and theological categories, this risk seems to remain quite serious. If one, however, rethinks the very parameters of religious identity, orthodoxy, etc. then such a charge seems to lose its footing. (I would argue that this understanding of “confessional religion” is not itself “natural” or “universal”, but that it too can be historically and culturally located. This does not preclude its viability or persuasiveness, but it does mean that it is not the only option.)
Not only could this work begin to de-sediment a number of rigid categories that are inimically antagonistic to many aspects of the larger projects of continental philosophy and theology, but it can also serve to open up a positive space in which these theological voices can begin to both speak more freely and be attentive to the textures and complexity of traditions. Such a project remains largely in line with Crockett’s and Robbins’ aforementioned formulations. The primary difference here seems to be that what I am calling for draws from sources beyond the Chicago school of the History of Religions (Crockett) and is more concerned with a transformed relationship with theological traditions rather than moving into an entirely new and theoretical space (Robbins).
Rather than emphasizing the theoretical role of theology, I see a practical and performative opening which extends theology beyond the private sphere to which it has been relegated under many modern frames. This is particularly relevant in regards to those traditions and aspects of theology that have been compartmentalized under the headings of “mysticism” and “spirituality.” By contesting the frames listed above, one may find a new opening for constructive theologies that have “spiritual,” political, and public importance. If I am able to make this move, perhaps sticking to the old yellow notes and addressing the issues of the day need not be mutually exclusive activities.
Wilson Dickinson is a PhD candidate at Syracuse University.