Prolegomena to a Philosophy of Religion

by J.L. Schellenberg

"There is no attempt here to lay down as inviolable or to legislate certain ways of looking at things or ways of proceeding for philosophers of religion, only proposals for how to deal with a range of basic issues―proposals that I hope will ignite much fruitful discussion and which, in any case, I shall take as a basis for my own ongoing work in the field."―from the Preface Providing an original and systematic treatment of foundational issues in philosophy of religion, J. L. Schellenberg's new book addresses the structure of religious and irreligious belief, the varieties of religious skepticism, and the nature of religion itself. From the author's searching analysis of faith emerges a novel understanding of propositional faith as requiring the absence of belief. Schellenberg asks what the aims of the field should be, setting out a series of principles for carrying out some of the most important of these aims. His account of justification considers not only belief but also other responses to religious claims and distinguishes the justification of responses, propositions, and persons. Throughout Prolegomena to a Philosophy of Religion, Schellenberg is laying the groundwork for an elaboration of his own vision while at the same time suggesting how philosophers might rethink assumptions guiding most of today's work in analytic philosophy of religion.

Genres: Philosophy, Religion

242 pages, Hardcover

First published September 29, 2005

About the author

J. L. Schellenberg (born 1959) is a Canadian philosopher best known for his work in philosophy of religion. He has a DPhil in Philosophy from the University of Oxford, and is Professor of Philosophy at Mount Saint Vincent University and Adjunct Professor in the Faculty of Graduate Studies at Dalhousie University, both in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Schellenberg’s early development of an argument from divine hiddenness for atheism has been influential.[2] In a subsequent series of books he has arrived at a form of religion called ‘skeptical religion’ which he regards as being compatible with atheism.[3] In 2013 the Cambridge University Press journal Religious Studies published a special issue devoted to critical discussion of Schellenberg’s philosophy of religion.

Reviews

[John Martindale · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am aware that Schellenberg is an atheist (due to viewing theism as untenable), and yet he is open to ultimism. But I found his discussion of the ultimate to be very vague. I still cannot get my head around exactly what he is proposing. Though being aware of his book, Evolutionary Religion, it would seem that he thinks it is too early in human exploration (from an evolutionary time standpoint) to rule out the possibility that there could be something that is Ultimate behind the nature of things, the good, and the beautiful. So, I suspect his failure to be clear on what the ultimate is is intentional.

One thing I appreciate is that Schellenberg argues for the idea that belief is involuntary, while faith is voluntary. He does not, like other atheists, define faith as believing in what you know is not so. Instead, he takes a deeper look at how the word is used in religious and non-religious contexts.
Faith comes easily for people who have certain beliefs. Suppose I have been told that person X is trustworthy, and I have repeatedly confirmed that person X is trustworthy; it will be pretty easy to put my faith in them and trust them. However, if that person betrays my trust, the easy belief in their trustworthiness is now compromised. That delightful certainty is gone, making the faith part all the more a matter of choice, as I wrestle with whether I give person X another chance.
When I was young, I believed what I was told by those I assumed trustworthy; my evangelical upbringing meant I believed it all. Much of it was a given. Early on, when I investigated things, I found the arguments supporting what I already believed, firming it up. My faith was the natural outflow. Much of what I believed rested upon authorities, and honestly, I was unaware of most of the problems and counterarguments, and the weakness of some of the evidence. When I became a Christian missionary (which would be an example of faith), I had to raise a lot of support; I was aware of other Christians who took this step and found the funds, and I took this step of faith, and I received what I needed (in what seemed supernatural ways). Faith came easily because of belief. But as the years went on, the discordance between what I believed and what I experienced and observed on matters of sanctification resulted in cognitive dissonance. It became harder and harder to trust God to provide me victory over my besetting sins. The poems, art, songs, anguish, prayers, and hopes throughout this time show that despite the loss of confident belief, I chose to act in faith, I tried to give God the benefit of the doubt, excuse him, blame myself, and create elaborate explanations. Eventually, in this matter, I did lose faith. Having lost faith, I readjust my expectations to better fit reality. While I still believe there may indeed be a God, I have no expectation of what the New Testament promises those who believe. To do so would seem to be like choosing to put my trust in someone who has always and only let me down. It would be foolhardy. I suppose I could consider what I DID when I still had faith, and I could consciously decide to DO those things again (stepping out in faith). But I could NOT simply believe God is trustworthy in this way; few things are more obvious to me now than the fact that what Paul claimed was to be the normal Christian life, is not normal. Thus, why would I step out in faith? I suppose faith seems to require the belief that X is a possibility. For much of my life, knowing the power of perspective and believing God could be testing me meant I continued to hope and push forward in faith, despite increasing uncertainty.

Anyhow, I see I initially confidently believed X (because of childlike trust) and this made faith easy; but as things became complex and uncertain, I only believed X was a possibility and faith became hard; but eventually I found I no longer believed X and I am like, “uh… no… I wouldn’t put my faith in X again. Why would I do that to myself again? Insanity is trying the same thing again and hoping for different results… I did that for years,”

I wouldn’t think it virtuous to revert to faith in X. Reality, as C.S. Lewis said, is “iconoclastic”: it was a way of smashing to bits the images we fashion of God and dashing our expectations to pieces. Why piece one of these shattered icons together again? Instead, it seems better to attempt to form expectations and beliefs that are more aligned with what seems to be reality.
On Christian propositional claims, such as the incarnation, virgin birth, resurrection, Trinity, and second coming of Christ, all these things are beyond verification. When I was young, I simply and easily believed these things. But now, confidence has been shattered—knowing history and development, and the humanness that permeates the biblical corpus and ugliness of doctrinal struggles in the early church, I have absolutely no grounds for the confidence I had when I was wrong. These things can only be believed as possibilities. The bible, church tradition, and reason cannot provide enough to regain confidence—I suppose some mystical experience, some first-hand revelation would be needed. Anyhow, that is unlikely. This means belief (in the sense that I know doctrinal propositions are true) is impossible. I am left with nothing but faith without belief. Because I can still affirm that the gospel is a possibility, I can continue in this tradition. I suppose this is faith. I do have a choice here. I can only have faith in those things that I can still believe are possibilities. I do not believe things like eternal conscious torment in hell, or extremely exclusionary versions of Christianity are possibilities—for such I neither have faith nor belief.

[Ethan Zimmerman · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this for my philosophy of religion course. This is a provocative read if you're interested in a philosophical approach to religion, belief, doubt, and faith. I was especially interested in Schellenberg's arguments regarding the possible coexistence of faith and complete unbelief for a skeptic.

This is very dry analytic philosophy. So don't read it for beautiful prose or profound literary engagement. I found it helpful to read this in the context of a college seminar with a professor who is also a professional philosopher.

[Ethan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is both a nice overview of a lot of contemporary philosophy of religion and an interesting statement of the author's views on the topics at hand, especially the concepts of religion, belief, skepticism, and faith. It's supposed to be prolegomena both to the author's own work and the direction he thinks the field should take. It's part of a trilogy with two followup books on skepticism and faith respectively, both of which I'm interested to read.