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His exploration of the philosophy of religion covers the historical discussions of the nature and existence of evil, the importance of the concepts of failure and eternity to the religious impulse, the relationship between skepticism and mysticism, and the place of reason, understanding, and in models of religious thought. He examines why people, throughout known history, have cherished the idea of eternity and existence after death, and why this hope has been dependent on the worship of an eternal reality. He confronts the problems of meaning in religious language.
232 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2009
A well-trained sceptic may see with his own eyes all the miracles reported in Jacques de Voragine’s Golden Legend and remain as untouched as a stone in his incredulity. He may always plausibly state that any natural explanation, however unlikely, of the supposed miracles is more likely, after all, than an explanation in terms of God’s interventions. This is a quaestio iuris, not facti: the point is not that some inveterate sceptics might, in fact, foolishly turn their eyes away from the irresistible evidence, but that they would have a perfect right to do so in terms of the intellectual patterns of modern knowledge which simply cannot assimilate such an event as a ‘miracle’. Consequently one is bound, in terms of this way of thinking, to assume that any explanation from ‘natural’ causes, no matter how implausible, is better than a supernatural one. (76-77)
Throughout the history of scepticism and of empiricism the legitimacy of this concept has been questioned. It has been repeatedly pointed out that the signs whereby we recognize truth and falsity are governed by normative rules which in their turn require justification; these rules cannot be inferred from the empirical material which, precisely, is subject to epistemological examination. Therefore, in defining an operative notion of truth we face an unpleasant choice: either an infinite regress or a discretionary decision, and in the latter case everything is indeed permissible. Consequently an empirical epistemology founded on psychological or physiological investigation is in principle, and not just contingently, ‘inconceivable’; strictly speaking it is an absurdity. (83)
But seemingly analogous trends in modern times usually pursue the opposite end: to shield the Sacred from the rapacity of the Profane, to uphold the legitimacy of faith in its encounter with rationalist doctrines, to assert the rights of religious life within a culture which has canonized its own secularity… Apart from those who–like the Modernist thinkers just mentioned–drew a line of demarcation between two realms in the hope of their future non-interference, our saeculum illuminatum et illuminans has begotten more searching and rebellious spirits who realized that the clash was real and not merely the result of conceptual misunderstanding or logical sloppiness. They opted for God against, and not in addition to, the world. They did not try to appease secular Reason by finding a modest enclave sheltered from its voracity and by begging for permission to survive, they attacked its intrinsic inability for to cope with worries which are bound to be crucial in our life–unless they are concealed mala fide–and they expressed the revolt of faith, well aware of its status as a foreign body, indeed a fearful disease, in this civilization. The Russian Jew, Leon Shestov, and the Spaniard, Miguel de Unamuno, belong to this category; their way had been paved by the great nineteenth-century foes of Enlightenment–Kierkegaard, Dostoyevski, Nietzsche–people who refused to negotiate with a self-satisfied rationalism and progress, who refused to patch up the antagonism. (135)
Thus the language of myth is in a sense closed or self-supporting. People become participants in this communication system through initiation or conversion and not through a smooth transition and translation from the secular system of signs. Whatever people say in religious terms is understandable only by reference to the entire network of signs of the Sacred… Whoever says seriously ‘I have sinned’ does not mean merely that he has committed an act which is contrary to a law, but also that he has offended against God; his words are not meaningful unless they are referred to God and thus to the whole area of faith, hence they are bound to be considered unintelligible by a consistent non-believer… This is not to say that the sense of such a sentence is purely ‘expressive, ‘exclamatory’ or ‘prescriptive’; it does include a ‘factual’ statement, an assessment of the ‘fact’ in the full context of faith, and a personal emotional attitude. These three aspects of meaning can be singled out analytically, yet they are not separated in the speaker’s mind, they are merged in one undifferentiated act of worship.
To admit that the language specifically designed to express the realm of the Sacred cannot be translated without distortion into the language of the Profane does not suggest at all that the latter, as opposed to the former, is natural, genuine, objective, descriptive, presuppositionless and apt to convey the truth. First, everyday profane speech teems with words which are value-laden or refer to unverifiable facts, in particular to our ‘inner’ states. A strictly ‘empirical’ or behaviourist language has never existed, it is an artificial concoction of philosophers and psychologists… The moral qualities of human actions as well as their intentional background are not intellectual supplements to perception, they are perceived directly as aspects of a human sign system (my perception may be wrong, of course, as no perception is by its very content safeguarded against error). (178-179)
Everything goes back to the same anxiety: is the world of our perception the ultimate reality which people have embellished with a non-existent ‘meaning’ according to their various psychological and social self-defence mechanisms, thus preventing themselves, by those artificial adornments, from seeing the world as it is? Is the eternal reality a dreamy fabrication of our yearning after security? Or is the world more like a screen through which we dimly perceive a meaning and an order different from that which rational investigation can provide us with? Is the very quest for security, far from being a phantasmagoric sublimation of the natural and universal fear of suffering, a sign of our share in the eternal sense-endowed order, of our status as meta-physical beings, a status we may almost, yet never entirely, forget? Does a phantom-God blur our vision of things or, on the contrary, does the world veil God from our sight? (209-210)