language allows for a wide variety of images, metaphors, and symbols to be used in religious language, not all of which necessarily derive from a single tradition. This opens up the possibility of using figures of speech (along with their semantic horizons) deriving from “foreign” language games, resulting in hybrid or creole predication. This is indeed the case for Christian tradition itself, as the first few centuries of its theological development show a synthesis of Jewish and Greco-Roman concepts, language, images, narratives, and symbols: the marriage of Jerusalem and Athens. So if, following George Lindbeck,9 we understand the relationship of theology to religious belief, practice, and tradition on the model of the relationship of grammar to its natural language, then a thoroughly pluralistic theology can be forged through explicit and implicit synthesis of ideas, images, and concepts derived from a variety of religious forms of life. What begins with a humble recognition of fallible and limited human abilities to know the divine leads to a freedom to borrow from a variety of languages and conceptual schemes in order to express what can usefully be said. A humble, creative, pluralistic theology must therefore leave space for such hybridity.
Radical Flexibility: The Principle of Indeterminism
I expect some may be rather queasy about the skeptical trajectory of the principle of fallibilism just described. If we must resist the drive toward certain knowledge and conviction, maintaining, rather, that when all is said and done we might be significantly wrong about central beliefs and practices of a tradition, then in what sense could we hold religious beliefs and practices to be true? Surely, contends the critic, even a theology thoroughly inflected by the facts of religious plurality must have some criteria of justifiable belief? Pushed too far, does not the principle of fallibilism lead to Pyrrhonian skepticism?
The question of truth in theological discourse is, of course, still much debated, and a thorough discussion of it is beyond the scope of this chapter. However, I suggest that a pluralistic theology of religion must avoid the scylla of a strict correspondence theory of truth, and the charybdis of mere coherence theories, opting, rather, for a pragmatic theory.10 The principle of indeterminism at work here describes a position which maintains that the truth of religious propositions is constructed, negotiated, dynamic, and provisional. Religious truth refers to what particular, historic, and changing religious communities, broadly construed, accept as valuable, constitutive, and trustworthy. “True” is what such communities label the propositions which, generally, work for them; that is, help to deliver the kinds of goods and forms of life commonly valued by those communities. For pluralistic theology, religious truth cannot be fixed forever in objective certitude, for, as Kierkegaard reminds us, objective facts per se do not impinge on our lives. Facts about the universe must be appropriated subjectively in order to have meaning for us.
In his journal of 1835 Kierkegaard writes (see Box 1.7):
Box 1.7
In this description of the second characteristic notice how he goes back to the original sources when outlining the views of Kierkegaard. He does not draw on secondary sources, or descriptions of Kierkegaard’s views, but quotes the actual relevant section of Kiekegaard’s journal.
What would be the use of discovering so-called objective truth, of working through all the systems of philosophy and of being able, if required, to review them all and show up the inconsistencies within each system […] what good would it do me if truth stood before me, cold and naked, not caring whether I recognised her or not, and producing in me a shudder of fear rather than a trusting devotion?11
Subjectivity is thus the tell-tale of religious truth, as Kierkegaard makes clear through his definition of truth as an “objective uncertainty held fast in an appropriation process of the most passionate inwardness.”12 However, to function as a general theory of truth, this subjectivity must be tested through negotiation and contestation within the relevant religious communities.13 These negotiated settlements shape subjective truth toward the ends valued by particular communities at particular times and places. Truth is thus at the same time the product of contingent, historical processes while being held fast to subjectivity with the greatest trust. It plays an essential and foundational role in the creation and maintenance of a religious community while at the same time continually arising from and responding to the needs, desires, best practices, and values of that dynamic, interactive community. Religious truth understood pragmatically is a continual work in progress, much as even the most established scientific theories are always provisional. Insofar as religious beliefs and practices continue to be effective in bringing about the forms of life cherished by communities, exemplified in their narratives, performed in their rituals, made relatively more permanent in their institutions, held fast to in subjectivity, they are thereby labeled “true.”
This picture of truth as it pertains to religious statements demonstrates the flexibility and indeterminacy at the heart of a pluralistic theology. The test for such a theology will focus on how the “grammar” of the beliefs and practices of a community facilitate its shared ends and values. Where a question arises as to the truth or legitimacy of a particular belief, doctrine or practice, the final arbiter must be the community itself, and as communities are by nature dynamic, so too will its reflected picture of religious truth. A pluralistic theology cannot be ossified since the negotiation of what counts as “true belief,” i.e. “warranted practice,” will necessarily emerge from contestation, negotiation and provisional acceptance. Within this framework, again, lies an openness to new possibilities and hybrid expression.
Radical Openness and Poesis: The Principles of Contingency and Attraction
I will consider the next two characteristics together as they form two sides of the same coin. Pluralistic theology must be both expansive and comprehensive in terms of its creative power and potential, as well as integrative and discriminative in terms of its manifestation or instantiation into particular, beautiful, and useful forms. Openness and contingency here refer to the scope and freedom of this creative power: there is an effervescence, an overflowing nature to pluralistic theology which reflects the plethora of creative possibilities made possible following the loosening of theological strictures wrought by the principle of indeterminism. At the same time this centrifugal openness and expansiveness is (not so much restricted as) given form and structure, through a parallel, contrary pressure toward “felicitous particularity.” Importantly, this centripetal, poetic14 pressure is guided, as we shall see, by aesthetic criteria. These two forces work together through a tense dialectic: a fecund mutual interanimation encompassing a simultaneous centrifugal expansion shaped by a centripetal particularization. Energized by this dialectic, pluralistic theology is opened up to the voice of the religious Other in ways that recognize the creative and indeterminate potential of mutual engagement, while at the same time kenotically offering its own tradition as a substrate for differentiation. The effect is that theology, characterized by radical openness, tempered by radical poesis, invites the creation of novel insight, greater solidarity, and a more comprehensive consolation.
It is worth elaborating these mutually opposed yet creative forces further, not only to clarify their activity but also to intimate the ironic nature of pluralistic theology we shall describe later. Two processes are at the heart of the centrifugal /centripetal tension I have described: the centrifugal, creative revelation of metaphorical predication, and the centripetal, coalescing manifestation into forms regulated by aesthetic attraction. This dialectic both/and movement between creatively opposed forces recapitulates the dynamics of metaphor. Indeed this dynamic is the fountainhead at the center of creative theologizing. It will be useful to rehearse Paul Ricoeur’s highly influential “interactionist” account of metaphor in order to describe this dynamic.
Following Ricoeur, we can define metaphor as a figure of speech whereby one thing is referred to in terms which evince another.15On this view, metaphor is a semantic generator whereby the terms of the metaphor – importantly understood as statements rather than individual words – work to redescribe each other in a hermeneutic spiral. Furthermore,