Thursday, March 23, 2017

I SHALL NOT WANT

“I Shall Not Want”
From the love of my own comfort
From the fear of having nothing
From a life of worldly passions
Deliver me O God
From the need to be understood
From the need to be accepted
From the fear of being lonely
Deliver me O God
Deliver me O God
From the fear of serving others
From the fear of death or trial
From the fear of humility
Deliver me O God
Deliver me O God
May we find the courage to kneel before the cross offering our murk, our darkness, our brokenness this Lenten season. And may we be so bold as to open our hearts and minds to the ways God is desiring to work in and through us to bring the bright light of Christ to our dark and messy world.
“So watch your step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. These are desperate times!”

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

SECULAR HUMANISM TODAY

                                      SECULAR  HUMANISM TODAY

The modern world is often said to have turned its back on religious belief. But secular morality is rooted in Christianity and the two creeds should work together to resist the rise of populism
One of the things I have always found fascinating and maddening about Christianity is its political slipperiness. Is it basically progressive or is it basically reactionary? It is more progressive, more radical than any secular form of politics. As an undergraduate I was excited by the prophetic vision of universal peace and justice; it felt like a more benign version of the Marxism that one or two of my peers espoused, and more substantial than the vague socialism that almost all the rest of them subscribed to.

But how could one counter the argument that Christianity is essentially backward-looking? Its strongest forms are often defiantly opposed to certain liberal causes, and the Anglicanism that I vaguely affirmed was steeped in nostalgic traditionalism. Should one try to reform Christianity, which would make it more attractive to one’s liberal friends – or would that mean watering it down, reducing it to little more than a desire for political progress with a tinge of religiosity?

As a postgraduate student of theology, I found that liberal reformism was very much out of fashion. The sharpest thinkers strongly rejected liberal Protestantism, arguing that it merged the Gospel with Enlightenment rationalism. I largely agreed, but quietly harboured a rather liberal concern: shouldn’t we also affirm Christianity’s affinity with liberal values with the humanism of our day? Instead of scorning it as a rival creed, shouldn’t we argue that, in fact, the humanist vision largely derives from Christianity? It seemed that there was a delicate knot to unpick here, and that the usual answers were too blunt.

After 9/11, the polarisation between religion and secular liberal values seemed to sharpen. Atheist secularists were driving this polarisation, but church leaders were often adding to it. But Christianity is actually deeply involved in the ideal of universal human rights, and in the idea of “secularism”, in the sense of the separation of Church and state. This can be expressed without the old wet liberalism intruding – but only if we tell a bold new story of how Christianity relates to modernity and its dominant creed, “secular humanism”. 

This public ideology gets lost amid the complexity and partisan bickering. It arose on Christian, mainly Protestant, soil. Even if secular humanism rejects religion in the name of “rationalism”, its moral assumptions derive from the Christian centuries. The key to this dynamic is the little word “deism”. For most of the architects of the Enlightenment were deists – believers in a rational God. They rejected, or sidelined, revealed religion but inherited Christian moral assumptions and often adapted Protestant zeal against superstition and empty ritual. It was these thinkers, whose heyday was about 1680-1790, and who include Spinoza, Locke, Voltaire, Thomas Paine, Thomas Jefferson and Kant, who established the creed of the modern West. And subsequent thinkers, such as Marx and John Stuart Mill, were no less indebted to Christian moral tradition. So the humanist principles of liberty and equality are rooted in Christianity. 

It does not come naturally to us to believe that we can move towards a world of ever-greater justice for all, that all lives are of equal worth, that oppression and discrimination must end. It comes far more naturally to see drastic inequality as inevitable, and distant others as inferior to us.

And secular humanism has continued to be shaped by its Christian basis. In the mid-twentieth century the ideal of universal human rights was launched by mostly Christian thinkers and statesmen. And Christianity was central to the civil rights movement in America. 

To point out the Christian basis of modern moral assumptions is hardly a new argument – Nietzsche was perhaps the first to make it, from his hostile perspective. It is widely accepted by academics in various disciplines and, over the past decade a few authors have, often tentatively, raised the issue. It was a major part of Terry Eagleton’s response to the new atheists, for example, and Nick Spencer, of the think tank Theos, has made the case, drawing on the American historian of ideas, Larry Siedentop. Paradoxically, even the “secular” aspect of secular humanism has Christian origins, for it was Protestants who pioneered the separation of Church and state. 

Our affirmation of secular humanism must be balanced by criticism of it. It is limited. It does not offer people meaning, or have the same power to inspire or sustain them, or to help them form strong social bonds. There is a “thinness” to secular humanism.

But it would be a mistake to reject it in favour of the true thickness of religious culture. Instead, I suggest, secular humanism must necessarily be expressed in thin terms, so that it can unite almost everyone in a diverse society. That does not make it a dangerous thing, as neoconservative thinkers say. But it does make it an incomplete thing: it has no coherent account of why we should seek the good of all, for example, or of why moral universalism is a sacred ideal. 

It feebly claims – with little evidence – that this ideal comes naturally to all rational people; the reality is that secular humanism derives its moral vision from Christianity. This explains its goodness, and its inadequacy: for in secularising the Christian vision it thins it out. Rejecting secular humanism feels straightforward and brave, if one is a Christian – but this is a temptation. The task is to affirm it, and point to its Christian roots.

Secular humanism remains the West’s core creed, in spite of the current rise of illiberal populism in the US and Europe. But it lacks self-awareness and self-confidence. A half-baked populist movement, with a ­muddled message, has the power to discombobulate it utterly. There is little sense that secular humanism knows how to define itself, or defend itself. Strange though it may sound, I think that Christians have a special role in helping secular humanism through its present wobble. It is a tradition with deeper roots than it knows.