Dr. Roger Haight has taught for over 30 years in Jesuit schools of theology in Chicago, Toronto, Manila, and Cambridge (Massachusetts). He currently teaches at Union Theological Seminary in New York City.
Dr. Haight is Past President of the Catholic Theological Society of America. His book Jesus Symbol of God (Orbis) won first place in the Catholic Press Association's 2000 Book Award for Theology. Some of his other books include: Dynamics of Theology and Christian Community in History (in two volumes).
His most recent book The Future of Christology was published by Continuum. I reached him in New York City to speak about the book and other matters.
Gerry McCarthy: In The Future of Christology you write that: "This culture of postmodernity, as I have depicted it, appears threatening to Christian faith in its catechetical form. But it is no more challenging than Hellenistic culture appeared to the Christian movement at the dawn of the second century. This culture should not be viewed only as a threat, but also as a lure to create new construals of Jesus Christ and the church that meet the temper of the time." Do you think postmodernity is misunderstood today? Why does the Vatican view it as a threat?
Roger Haight: Yes, postmodernity is misunderstood today, and I hope that I have helped to clarify an appreciation of it. In fact the terms "postmodernity" and "postmodernism" convey quite different meanings, much like "secularity" and "secularism" did in the 1960s. The first meaning in both cases is more neutral and descriptive; the second is more like a doctrine and a set of principles that together are hostile to Christian faith. The terms also operate in different fields of meaning, such as architecture, or philosophy, or the social sciences, and thus each usage will combine different valuations with the different shades of meaning. As a result, anyone using the terms in theology should give a general indication of the meaning being assigned them.
I have used the term "postmodernity" to distinguish a vaguer sense of a culture from a more precise set of doctrines. I also want to give it the broad connotation that the term "culture" enjoys in --for example-- the discipline of cultural anthropology. This usage frees the term from strong subjective, and frequently negative, valuation and allows it to be discussed dispassionately. This usage implicitly entails the positive task of inculturation that mission theology has developed constructively.
I don't really know exactly why the Vatican conceives postmodernity, as distinct from postmodernism, a threat unless they are not aware of the distinction I introduced and confuse the two. For example, the authors of the Notification directed at my work Jesus Symbol of God took my description of the culture of postmodernity as a description of my own ideas, rather than an objective characterization of a prevalent culture. Why did the author (or authors) make such a basic mistake? One can only guess that they did not understand the distinction or were so frightened by some of the principles and doctrines of postmodernism that they overreacted. The Vatican is correct in seeing the set of doctrines and truth claims often associated with postmodernism as a threat to Christian beliefs.
But, finally, the church also has to enter into dialogue with postmodernism as well. In the 1970s, Pope Paul VI asked the Jesuits to make it their special concern to study the logic of atheism and enter into dialogue with it. What could be more antithetical to Christianity than atheism? And that's the point. For the church to avoid sectarianism, it must reach out to and explain itself in dialogue with the whole world in the various languages of the world. This has been the strength of Roman Catholicism over the centuries.
GM: I enjoyed your chapter "Notes for a Constructive Theology of the Cross." Can you talk to me about how a "Christology from below" finds that what's positive in Jesus' ministry is not self-negation but self-gift, dedication, self-transcending obedience, and commitment to the cause of God?
RH: One of the defining characteristics of a theology from below consists in a turn to the human subject as a place to begin (but not to end) one's reflection. But the human subject is almost as vast and mysterious as the transcendent order; especially freedom's profundity can be probed from so many different perspectives. But a distinction between two levels of freedom that all can appreciate helps illumine what I'm getting at in that essay.
At one level, freedom manifests itself in actual free choices that we make every day; at another level freedom appears as commitment to something --for example-- another person or a cause. On the first level, freedom is like the butterfly going from flower to flower; Kierkegaard called it the freedom of the aesthete who is attracted by whatever pleasure comes along. On the deeper level, freedom as commitment seems paradoxical; but when someone actively dedicates the self to something, he or she creates a new self by embracing a value higher than the self. The first kind of freedom easily lends itself to self-seeking while the second is in its first impulse self-transcending. But just as the first may lead to loss of self, the second usually augments the self with enhanced self-actualization. So, ironically, in what appears as self-negation by a commitment to one thing, such as a noble cause, a person may experience an increment of meaning and being, while the endless choices of things attractive, which on the surface seem to define freedom itself, may end up being an addiction. So what is self-negation, and what self-fulfillment?
One thing all the New Testament scholars seem to agree on is that at the heart of Jesus' public ministry was a dedication to the cause of what he called the kingdom of God. The kingdom of God, which means the way things would be according to God's wisdom and reign, serves as a point of convergence defining what Jesus taught; it contains the set of values by which he directed his life. For Jesus, the kingdom of God expressed his commitment to God's will for human life in society. Would one say that this commitment of Jesus to the kingdom of God was an act of self-denial? I think not: That would be to interpret it within the context of the first and relatively low level of the exercise of freedom. Rather I regard Jesus' commitment to the kingdom of God as a full possession of himself, which he then commits fully to God's cause in human history.
The significance of this interpretation appears when one begins thinking of being a Christian in the classical terms of an imitation of Christ or following Jesus' pattern of life. In the view I've suggested, Christianity is not fundamentally ascetic, except insofar as the asceticism is absorbed into the dedication to the cause. Christian spirituality consists rather in a higher level of freedom and commitment to something bigger than the self, but which, in living for it, becomes part of the self. Our own Christian language has become infected with what I call Mel Gibson christology: The more Jesus suffered, the better it is. That is wacky. Christianity is a positive self-transcending commitment to the humane values of the kingdom of God revealed as such by Jesus' own commitment to them.
GM: In the book you write about a pluralist consciousness. How would Benedict XVI view this? Does he really believe a society should have an organic unity with a common set of values?
RH: As I understand it, Benedict XVI's long-time concern is directed against relativism, which I take to be a philosophical position that denies absolutes: Nothing enjoys a status of unrelated validity, because everything is related to everything else. Meaning and value so continually shift that the human has no solid ground to stand on. In the end, what is true in one situation may not be in another context. Like some brands of postmodernism, of which it may be a part, this metaphysical position calls the reality of Christian beliefs into question, or subverts the universal relevance of a Christian conception of things.
I understand pluralist consciousness not in a metaphysical way, but in a historical, political, and sociological framework of meaning. What I am getting at has two dimensions: Differences within a common field; or unity amid differences. It begins with plurality. This is verified by simply attending to what is going on in the world and in particular societies: People of the best possible will, simply understand things differently because of the innumerable factors that govern all our thinking. But, secondly, what I mean by pluralism also has the quality of being diverse within a common sphere: All the differences mark a human understanding, in response to a common reality (human existence) that is shared, so that we can in some measure communicate with each other. Thus what I mean by pluralism is not sheer diversity, but differences within a communion or shared sphere of meaning. This basic idea is radically different than relativism.
Beyond that abstract statement, what is possible in a society? I was happy with the way the American Catholic bishops addressed all Americans, that is, in our pluralism, with their document Economic Justice for All in 1986. The bishops showed how many of our American ideas and values, and the ideals for which we strive, are in some cases aligned with those of Christian faith which in turn supports them. At certain points, Christian faith, which is a particular religion but with universal relevance, can enhance our common existence together across differences, just as those same ideals may also severely criticize society.
GM: In The Future of Christology you address the criticism directed at Jesus Symbol of God. Do you think there still some confusion about using symbol as a christological category? Why do you think the choice of "symbol" is a good one?
RH: Early in his career Edward Schillebeeckx's classic neo-scholastic work on the sacraments was entitled Christ the Sacrament of the Encounter with God. In this pre-Vatican II theology, "Christ" meant the pre-existent Word of God incarnate as Jesus of Nazareth now risen. "Christ" was a proper noun and not the title "Messiah" it began as. Because the Word was incarnate in Jesus making him the Christ, Christ became the primal Christian sacrament, the visible sign or mediation of invisible Grace, the Word of God in concrete form of Jesus of Nazareth. In and through this primal sacrament, human beings encountered God. This book was not an apologetic work, but an intra-Christian text, written in insider language, appealing to the believers in the common terms of their beliefs. It did, however, introduce new themes such as interpersonal encounter with God in and through the historical person of Jesus. After Vatican II, Schillebeeckx changed his method of theology to one that began the understanding of Jesus Christ with a consideration of the way Jesus appeared in history; he wrote apologetically in an effort to make contact with a northern Europe that was rapidly becoming secularized. The majority of Catholic theologians eventually followed Schillebeeckx in this shift of approach.
I patterned the title of my book Jesus Symbol of God on Schillebeeckx's earlier title, but with the adjustments called for by the new post Vatican II situation and the council's mandate for Catholic theology to dialogue with the world. Thus the term "Christ" was shifted to Jesus, someone that all people can relate to as a fellow human being. This allowed me to introduce the extensive results of Jesus research that has so enriched our imagination when it comes to remembering Jesus Christ. Instead of "sacrament" I wrote, "symbol," because people in so many and such diverse disciplines as literature, history, sociology, philosophy, psychology, the history of religions, and indeed theology know the potentialities of the symbol. This gave me a language to address people both inside and outside the church. "Symbol" is the secular word for sacrament: Symbols mediate deep levels of reality and transcendent dimensions of our experience that cannot be reached without them. And, finally, I named that which the symbol that is the person and ministry of Jesus mediates and makes present, namely true God.
Many have suggested that had I entitled my book "Jesus Sacrament of God" no one would have questioned it. I hope that is not true; it is not a positive reflection on my reviewers. My explanation of its title is contained in the work itself and implicitly in other works as well. It is quite deliberate and it has a deeper significance than a popular use of language might suggest. It is --after all-- a work in theology and not catechetics.
GM: Toward the end of The Future of Christology you write about the need for a "broad, sympathetic, mutually enriching and implicitly self-critical conversation" in the Church. Do you see any signs of this occurring?
RH: Since the late 1970s, the theological and ecclesiastical discussion in the Roman Catholic Church in the U.S. has been in large part polemical in character. When Cardinal Bernardin suggested civil conversation on sensitive issues, several of the most prominent members of the American hierarchy broke the Episcopal code and publicly attacked the idea of discussing central issues of faith. Since polemic is such a distasteful medium of communication, one which, in fact, rarely succeeds as communication, most theologians I know converse with like-minded theologians. It is easier. It is less public and one runs less risk of being delated to Rome and investigated by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF).
On a more positive note, however, there is a good deal of quiet crossing between ideological camps among theologians. The Catholic Theological Society of America (which meets annually) prizes objectivity, evidence, and civil discourse. Another positive consideration turns to the obvious periodicity in human affairs, which reaches into the church as well. It should not take too much more time before pluralism, understood as diversity within unity, begins to appear as a strong human value within the church. The ecumenical movement has helped in this regard and so has the continuing encounter with other world religions. Most of the churches outside the West are working at inculturation. All this is happening quite decisively on the ground.
GM: Is it possible to talk about the "Notification" you received from the Vatican in 2005 on your book Jesus Symbol of God?
RH: Yes, I suppose it is possible for me to speak about the "Notification" on my work issued by the CDF in 2005. But I do not know how I could do so without appearing self-interested. It is far better for the issues raised by the Vatican to be discussed more objectively by other parties. The Vatican ordered that the Notification be published at the back of future printings of Jesus Symbol of God and this in a way enhances the work for a real student of theology, because he or she can compare the censure with the actual text and measure the accuracy of the criticisms. This promotes discussion of the issues, which is the point of publishing such a work.
GM: Do you see any signs of hope in the Catholic Church today?
RH: I have two set responses to this question: For those too optimistic I point to several major problems in the church in the United States today. Just to mention obvious examples without trying to be complete: The loss of public authority on the part of our bishops, the lack of vocations to ordained and religious ministry, the poor quality of education in Catholic seminaries, the small pool of talent from which future bishops will be drawn, the low level of Christian literacy among the faithful at large, a lack of free public conversation among theologians. For those overly pessimistic, I point to the vibrant quality of parish life in many parishes, the spontaneous assumption of responsibility for ministry on the part of the laity, the dramatic birth and development of a Catholic feminist theology in the United States and elsewhere, extraordinary examples of lay ministry in all sectors of church life and in society, and a general rise in mature and autonomous faith among the laity. There has never been a more educated Catholic Church than exists in the United States today, and in some ways, on the ground, Catholic spirituality has never been more intentional and vital.
On the whole, I would offer a split-level assessment of the church with regard to the signs of hope or discouragement. On the institutional level the church seems to be on a course of downsizing, defensiveness, sectarianism, and a loss of vitality to disciplinary control. But on the communitarian level of the people of God, Catholics who remain interested and engaged, curious, active, spontaneously discerning, and free with the freedom of the Spirit of which Paul speaks, are finding that there has never been a better time to be a Catholic Christian.
Gerry McCarthy is Editor of The Social Edge.
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