Basic Modern Philosophy of Religion

Frederick Ferré

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN: 9780415822145
• eBook ISBN: 9781135976484
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Philosophy History & Theory

This book provides a reasoned, comprehensive understanding of what religion is as well as a clear and critical assessment of whether, in the light of modern developments in philosophy, contemporary thinking people can responsibly maintain religious belief in God.

The book is divided into three major sections: the first deals with what all religions may be said to have in common; the second discusses theistic religion and the issue of intellectually responsible belief in God; the third examines current developments within a particular theistic religion, Christianity.

Originally published in 1968, the book is basic, both in the nature of the issues it discusses and in the clarity and comprehensiveness of its presentation; it is varied in the arguments and perspectives dealt with; it provides an introduction to philosophical thinking through the problems of philosophy of religion; and it deals seriously with controversial movements in theology.

Part 1

Meanings and Methods

Chapter 1

What is Philosophy of Religion?

The study we are about to engage in should not be confused with other activities that have sometimes been labeled “philosophy of religion.” We had best begin by being clear about what this discipline is not and what it is.

I Sharpening our Focus on Philosophy

The easier job is to say what philosophy of religion is not. It is not a particularly religious pursuit. Unfortunately it is still necessary to point this fact out to many people; but the very name of this discipline—“philosophy of …” as in “philosophy of science,” “philosophy of history,” or “philosophy of law”—should give warning to those who suppose that philosophy of religion is an aspect of religion rather than a study about it. All the fields, indeed, which are labeled “philosophy of …” operate at one or more removes from the boundaries of their subject matter. They are found on what has come to be called the “meta-level”; that is, the level “after” or “behind” the level of the subject in question. Thus philosophy of science, in recent days, has in some quarters been termed “metascience.” It is not itself an inquiry located in any science, but it takes the sciences as its object for reflection and analysis. Philosophy of religion might analogously be called “metareligion.”

Metareligious studies must be distinguished, then, from apologetics. The word “apologetics” comes originally from the Greek expression for a “speaking back,” or a “defense.” Plato’s Apology, for example, recounts the defense made in court by Socrates for his entire life’s mission. In the same sense the essential task of apologetics is the defense or “answering back” of religion, and particularly the Christian faith, against the doubts or accusations of its “cultured despisers.” To the extent, however, that apologetics is motivated by a fixed interest in defending certain established positions against all attacks, it is not qualified to be considered “philosophy” at all. If the ruling motive of apologetics is not the spirit of free inquiry, the commitment to unhindered argument wherever it may lead, it lacks the dominant concern of philosophy. Apologetics to that extent is fundamentally the expression of a religious interest rather than a philosophical one. Its resemblance to philosophy is in appearance only; it is not a metareligious study so much as a defensive weapon of religion.

Philosophy of religion is also to be distinguished from “philosophical theology” on at least one standard divinity school interpretation of the latter expression.¹ Like “biblical theology” and “systematic theology,” philosophical theology is a species contained within the theological genus. Insofar as its specific difference is that it makes use of philosophical methods and techniques to explicate the meaning or to discover the implications of theological doctrines, it continues to stand within what Paul Tillich has called the “theological circle.”² Philosophical theology, in this sense, becomes a part of the subject matter of philosophy of religion. They are not identical.

Describing, on the other hand, what philosophy of religion is poses greater difficulty. It is simple enough to say that philosophy of religion is a special area of interest, attending to the subject of religion, within the general discipline of philosophy. That is correct as far as it goes. But this simply postpones the issue: What is philosophy, of which philosophy of religion is a subdivision?

Attempts to get clear about the nature of philosophy are complicated by the strange fact that the question “What is philosophy?” is itself a philosophical question. This is an oddity not shared by fields like chemistry, mathematics, or the like (“What is chemistry?” is clearly not itself a chemical question). Those fields deal with fairly well-delimited areas, but philosophy has no such specific subject matter. Anything may become a subject of philosophical interest if only the questions are pushed far enough and treated in the proper way.

This gives us an important clue: philosophy is more essentially a way of thinking than a special subject area. It is a way of thinking (1) beyond the boundaries of any of the special disciplines but (2) still in a rationally disciplined way. Both aspects of this last statement need attention.

We must Think Comprehensively

First, philosophy asks questions that do not appear in any of the specialized departments of human inquiry. That does not necessarily mean that philosophical questions are “higher” or “better” than those of the other fields, but it does mean that philosophic thinking performs an important function that none of the specialized fields of inquiry is equipped to handle. Historians seek knowledge of history; mathematicians work for mathematical knowledge; physicists want to gain physical knowledge; but none of these (in their special capacities of historian, mathematician, or physicist) asks such boundary-indifferent questions as “What, if anything, do we mean by ‘knowledge’ in all these contexts?” “Is there any single set of criteria for ‘knowing’?” These typical sorts of questions are equally relevant to all possible specialized fields of knowledge but are within the exclusive province of none. Anyone may raise them, they are important to all; and those who do raise them and are willing to think about them by means of the disciplines of rational inquiry are acting as philosophers, whether or not they acknowledge the title. The professional philosopher is simply one who works at these “omnirelevant” questions full time, and one who probably has spent a good deal of effort to learn the skills and to master the tools of critical inquiry.

Shortly we must examine the general nature of these tools, but first it will be instructive to survey the kinds of boundary-indifferent questions that the philosophical way of thinking tends to raise. We have already mentioned one such set of questions, dealing with knowledge in general; and those familiar with philosophical terminology will have recognized in this a reference to epistemology.³

Another set of questions arises when people press their questions about what may count as “real” beyond the level of any particular discipline. Then they may want to know not merely whether some specified entity should be thought to exist or not but what, if anything, we mean by “existence” or “a being” or “being” in general. Leaving it to the physicists to determine what shall constitute being qua physical entity, leaving it to the biologist to determine what shall constitute being qua living thing, and so on, it is still possible to ask the boundary-indifferent question, what constitutes being of any sort. Do all sorts of beings share certain basic properties? Or, putting the same question differently, are there certain common criteria present for every application of the term “being”? Of what kinds of things shall we say that they exist? In this class of questions we find the study, as Aristotle put it, of “being qua being”; and such a study is still likely to be given the name used since soon after Aristotle, metaphysics.⁴

Besides the boundary-spanning problems of epistemology and metaphysics, a set of questions involving value arises for anyone who is determined to think beyond the limits of any speciality. The arts stimulate discussion of aesthetic value; economics turns attention to monetary value; reflection on deliberate human behavior makes us wrestle with moral value. But what, if anything, do we mean by “value” in and of itself? Is there any single set of criteria for “value qua value”? Here such problems for philosophical thinking have been given the name axiology.⁵

We have now noticed three broad families of typically philosophical problems: epistemology, metaphysics, and axiology. Does this not mean that philosophy as a field does have a specialized subject matter after all? Have we not contradicted what we began by saying?

The appearance of contradiction vanishes when we recall what these problems are; they are simply the outcome of an attempt to think comprehensively. By their very nature such questions cannot become “specialized,” because they impinge on every thinker to the extent that he wishes to think comprehensively.

They further manifest their comprehensiveness by impinging on one another. Reflection on values, for example, must at some point ponder the legitimacy of attributing “existence” to values, or relating them to what is held to be “real.” And at this point axiology and metaphysics are inseparably intertwined. Can we say that the problem is exclusively one of determining one’s ontological commitments and, consequently, is an issue for metaphysics and not for axiology? Manifestly not, since the status of value is precisely what is at issue. But can we then say that the question, being one of axiology, excludes metaphysics? Again this is impossible, since the problem is manifestly one of determining our views with regard to existence. But how does one know what a value is? And how do the limits of human knowledge relate to our ontological commitments? The questions of axiology-cum-metaphysics can hardly be answered—or even asked responsibly —apart from epistemological considerations as well. Thus, classifying these boundary-spanning questions may be seen to be more than a little artificial. For convenience it is possible to abstract emphases and to sort out types of issues from one another. But this must be done with a large dash of salt, since comprehensiveness in thinking—if it is really to be comprehensive in the boundary-spanning fashion being described here—vaults over (or digs beneath) even its own rough fences.

The philosopher is properly seen, then, as a man who thinks about questions that inherently defy being compartmentalized. He may or may not engage in this pursuit as his primary occupation. If he does, he may be said to “concentrate” on philosophy; it would be something of a solecism to speak of a philosopher as a “specialist.” Philosophy, therefore, may be at least partially described as a way of thinking comprehensively.

We must Think Critically

But this is not enough. Just to be comprehensive is not necessarily to be philosophical. Some kinds of daydreaming may be “comprehensive”; primitive mythologies may qualify as “comprehensive.” Also, philosophers, though not specialists, are not dilettantes. Professional philosophers are technically trained individuals with a literature, method, and vocabulary of their own. What distinguishes philosophy from all specialized disciplines is the unlimited scope of its questions; but what distinguishes philosophy from other ways of dealing with questions of such scope is the rational discipline of its method. Philosophy is one’s way of thinking most comprehensively and critically.

The crucial notions of “critical” and “rational” must not remain uselessly vague. Some of the more important disputes among philosophers arise at the point of specifying in complete detail the procedures and concepts involved, but let us venture as uncontroversially as possible to take note of at least the minimal essentials of what must be involved in “critical thought.”⁶

1. The rule of consistency. Our first general methodological principle is that critically disciplined thought, whenever found, must at least be consistent. It must not, in other words, be guilty of contradiction. Since we cannot always readily tell whether or not inconsistency is present in a complex thought, the powerful technical tools of formal logic have been developed to provide dependable procedures for deciding such issues. Consistency of thought alone is not enough, as we shall see, to assure rationality;⁷ but apart from consistency critical thought cannot even begin.

There are sure to be those who will object to such a flat statement. “Are you not begging the question against the possibility of an inconsistent universe?” they will demand. “If this methodological principle is accepted at the outset, have you not straightaway eliminated every metaphysic that proclaims reality to be ‘absurd’ and every epistemology that acknowledges the possibility of truth through paradox?”

This objection must be met squarely, for if it cannot be laid firmly to rest there will be little likelihood of finding any methodological common ground. The challenge, however, is not fatal; it rests on the unexamined supposition that the alternative to consistency is a thinkable option. But this supposition is false. Long ago Aristotle pointed out that even in order to reject the rule of consistency one would have to conform to it (to accept it, that is, in practice) in order to make sense of one’s rejection.

Imagine a dialogue on this question, as follows:

CONTRA: The rule of consistency is bunk.

PRO: Do you mean that we are free to violate it at will?

CONTRA: That is exactly what I mean.

PRO: Then I may understand you as saying that the rule of consistency is eternal and inviolable?

CONTRA: No! Of course not. I was specifically insisting on the opposite.

PRO: But what is to prevent me from interpreting your words as saying both that the rule of consistency is bunk and that it is not bunk?

CONTRA: Use your head. That would make sheer nonsense out of my denial.

PRO: Exactly! Even to deny the rule, you have to depend on it to preserve the meaning of your denial. In order to call it “bunk,” and mean anything, you have to presuppose it. Your denial is self-refuting. You cannot violate it at will, even when you try.

Consistency, we find, is the indispensable condition of intelligibility. Without meaning there can be no thought; inconsistency undercuts the very possibility of thought by proffering a conjunction of mutually exclusive meanings. Such mutual destruction of meaning precludes—in principle—our even considering as a hypothesis any demonstrable contradiction. A contradiction will not be a hypothesis at all.

Consequently it is not in the least question-begging to insist on consistency as a minimum standard for rational thought. On the contrary, the criterion of consistency is question-permitting, rather than question-begging. Without consistency no question could be meaningfully asked, much less answered well or badly. And so we need not fear accepting this as a basic methodological principle for philosophical thinking. No intelligible suggestion about the nature of things will be ruled out by so doing. Even the proposal to consider the universe as in some sense “absurd” or somehow “inconsistent,” if it is to be made at all, cannot be made by means of gibberish. And even the defense of paradox as somehow a source of truth must say something rather than nothing. To avoid gibberish, to succeed in providing a thought to be considered for possible adoption or rejection, consistency is a fundamental prerequisite.

2. The rule of evidence. Assuming, then, that any thoughts put forward for our acceptance as rational men will need to be internally consistent, a second methodological principle is needed to guide our choice among consistent thoughts offered as candidates for our belief. Simply to be consistent, we can readily see, is not enough. Every thought, to be a genuine candidate for our belief, must be at least this well qualified. But a lunatic, too, may be the most consistent of men. Lunacy sometimes consists in being consistently wrong.

Thus the rule of consistency must be supplemented by a rule of evidence. Most generally stated, the rule of evidence simply requires that rational thinkers should give consent (“accord belief”) only to such candidates-for-belief (“propositions”) as are adequately warranted by appropriate evidence. This statement is obviously too general for immediate application to the specific fields of human inquiry, but our present concern has to do not with the methods of any specific field—in which the character of an “adequate” warrant and the nature of “appropriate” evidence will need to be spelled out in detail by workers in the field—but, rather, with rational methodology in general. And at this boundary-spanning level, we are reminded by this rule of certain precautions that all critical inquiry must take in the face of the human tendency to indulge in the “pleasure principle” of primitive dogmatism.

For some people, perhaps most, the easy and comfortable state of mind is the believing one. Human suggestibility is an amply demonstrated fact, as is social pressure for acceptance of conventional belief. More, the all too human tendency to conserve effort—of all kinds, mental as well as muscular—allies itself with the other forces tending toward the discouragement of critical thinking. For all these reasons, the tendency is not that such men will believe too little but that they will be caused to believe too readily and too much. It is not, in the ordinary psychological course of events, necessary to have a reason for believing something; rather, human minds of this mold need some reason not to believe what is presented to them.

There are, on the other hand, individuals who have “overcompensated,” as it were, for this ten...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Original Title Page
• Original Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Table of Contents
• Prologue
• Part One: Meanings and Methods
• Part Two: Modern Philosophy and Belief in God
• Part Three: Contemporary Issues of Metareligious Thought
• Epilogue
• Index