Transforming Faith: Individual and Community in H. Richard Niebuhr

Transforming Faith

Individual and Community in H. Richard Niebuhr

Joshua Daniel

TRANSFORMING FAITH

Individual and Community in H. Richard Niebuhr

Copyright © 2015 Joshua Daniel. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.

Pickwick Publications

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ISBN 13: 978–1-4982–0448-4

EISBN 13: 978-1-4982-0449-1

Cataloging-in-Publication data:

Daniel, Joshua

Transforming faith : individual and community in H. Richard Niebuhr / Joshua Daniel.

x + 216 p. ; 23 cm. —Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 13: 978–1-4982–0448-4

1. Niebuhr, H. Richard (Helmut Richard), 1894–1962. 2. Christianity and culture. I. Title.

BR115.C8 D37 2015

Manufactured in the U.S.A.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Acknowledgments

1. Introduction

2. Loyalty Atoning through Interpretation

3. Democratization through Novelty

4. Radical Faith and Responsible Transformation

5. The Transformation of Faith, to Transform Faith

6. Conclusion

Bibliography

For Megg,

Agnes, and Isaiah

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank those who read earlier versions of this work and provided me constructive criticism: Kristine Culp, Hans Joas, Kathryn Tanner, and in particular William Schweiker, whose severe humanity has taught me the shape of responsibility. I would also like to thank those friends and colleagues who have wittingly and unwittingly contributed to the final form of this work: Mandy Burton, Kristel Clayville, Rick Elgendy, Michelle Harrington, David Newheiser, Myriam Renaud, Mike Sohn, Elizabeth Sweeny Block, and Michael Turner.

I am grateful to all of those at Wipf and Stock and Pickwick who have played a role in ushering my work into published form.

Finally, I would like to acknowledge my family, who are all responsible for shaping me into the sort of person who is able to write a book in the first place. Thank you.

1

Introduction

Recovering the Individual, Chastening Community

After a number of conversations concerning this book—a motivating factor of which is to restore the individual to a significant place within Christian moral reflection—I have found that many react to the word individual with the same discomfort and antipathy that often greet words like modernity and liberalism. Isn’t excessive individualism the problem to which the restoration of a tradition-rich morality, such as can be discerned in historical Christianity, is the solution? And isn’t such individualism the deliverance of modernity and the symptom of a lingering liberalism that has run its course but refuses to die? These interlocutors have been well meaning and supportive, and so rather than advise me to abandon the project in which I had invested so much time and energy, they exhorted me to add a qualifier every time I utter individual. To discuss the individual as adjectivally unencumbered has been depicted as a sort of academic faux pas: Haven’t you received the telegram that the Enlightenment is over?¹ Better to say complex or situated or multidimensional individual. Continually surprising is that there seems to be a conceptual short-circuit from individual to individualism, triggered by the common-sense-status of a narrative in which modernity and liberalism are responsible for unmooring us from the personal bonds that compose families and local communities, and for insisting that intellectual truth, moral validity, and political legitimacy can only be secured by appeals to universal, impersonal norms. According to this narrative, the individual is a self-enclosed, autonomous entity whose intellectual aspirations, moral motivations, and political obligations necessarily remain self-referential. Descartes’s search for certainty and Kant’s account of morality both entail the dismissal of tradition, as well as a focus on the resources of the individual’s own capacities, while Hobbes’s political vision is simply the best of all possible avenues for atomistic individuals to achieve self-preservation. On the one hand, the individual is understood to be a theoretical construct; in fact, humans are dependent and encumbered, such that the intellectual and moral ideals of Descartes and Kant are necessarily inhuman. On the other hand, insofar as the individual is what the social constructs of modernity and liberalism intend to support and promote, we are all being formed according to its image. Ultimately, the unencumbered individual and its stunted, vacuous mode of life are hardly worth restoring, especially as a moral resource.

Thankfully, other interlocutors have responded to my project less suspiciously, even positively. The main reason for this difference is that these interlocutors agree with me on the character of the individual. Our shared assumption is that the individual, and particularly the human individual, is constitutively situated, complex, and multidimensional. Without such qualities there is no individual properly speaking, just an example or an item. A human is constituted as an individual by her distinction from other humans; yet a distinction is not a separation. The human individual is distinct in and through, not despite or outside of, her various communal ties. Individuality is achieved by the manner in which we occupy our communal memberships. In this case, there is no fundamental contrast between the individual and the communal member or participant. Instead, the significant contrast is between manners of membership. All members occupy a posture within the community; individuals take on a posture towards the community.

One way to picture the contrast between more and less individualized members is through that between reflective and non-reflective members. Reflective members occupy a critical distance from their community’s norms, which enables them to articulate a reasoned account of those norms that can serve as a critique or endorsement of those norms. Non-reflective members, on the other hand, follow communal norms mechanically, critically neither motivated nor honed enough to judge them. Individuality refers to a reflective manner of communal membership, whereby one stands within and outside the community at the same time, orienting one’s life within the community according to what is discerned from one’s external stance.

There are two advantages of picturing the contrast between individual and non-individual this way. First, it suggests that individuality is an achievement. Socialization into any community or communal endeavor almost always requires a period of trusting acceptance. In order to enter the community of chess players, I have to accept my chess instructor’s account of the moves that the individual pieces are allowed to make, and it is reasonable to accept his account of the best moves to make in common situations. However, if new members are going to carry their community forward over time, into novel circumstances that community elders are unlikely to have faced, then communal fidelity requires getting some critical purchase on community norms, in order to make them responsive to new situations. A chess player who achieves individuality will be able to account for why certain moves are better than others in common situations, which both entails an ability to critically reflect on the competence of his instructor, and provides resources for succeeding in new situations. Picturing the contrast between individual and non-individual as that between reflective and non-reflective membership also prevents a premature moralizing of the conceptual distinction between individual and community. Individual/community is equivalent to neither good/bad nor bad/good. We can affirm that individuality and community are goods of human life while recognizing that particular individuals and communities lack goodness. Something similar can be said about critical reflection. It too is a good of human life, and achieving it ideally enables us to recognize bad aspects of communal life. However, this recognition does not necessarily lead us to engage in internal critique of our communities, especially when we are perceived to be in competitive, hostile relations with other communities. It is hasty to characterize zealous patriots in a time of war as un-reflective nationalists, for they are just as likely to be reflective nationalists, able to rationally justify the bad aspects of their own national life—Sure, it may be technically illegal to hold a certain population in prison without bringing charges against them, but [insert justification here]. These two points—that individuality can be understood as the final achievement of communal formation, and that the critical distance that characterizes such an individual is not unambiguously good—will be essential for my argument throughout. For immediate purposes, I mean to show that the individual is necessarily encumbered, and that its mode of life is neither stunted nor vacuous.

Or rather, if the individual’s mode of life is stunted and vacuous, then the culprit is just as likely to be community as individuality. This is a third point, equally crucial for my argument. I will articulate it with the help of sociologist Randall Collins, whose work stands in a theoretical tradition that can be traced back to George Herbert Mead, a social theorist to whom my argument is heavily indebted. Collins remarks, We are historical products of a period that has developed an increasingly widespread and increasingly penetrating cult of individuality; thus we are constrained to think of ourselves as autonomous, inward, individuals.² Those suspicious of the individual would agree. The individual is the result rather than the author of social and historical factors. The cunning of these (modern, liberal) factors is to have erased their tracks, beguiling us into thinking that the individual is self-evident or a priori, something to take for granted such that community becomes the contentious task of assembling members rather than a given good of human life. To valorize the individual is to be complicit in the project of jettisoning historical particularities, and can have no place in a form of ethics that is anchored in the historical life of a particular person, himself anchored in the historical life of a particular community. In short, to appeal to individuality is to cease doing distinctly Christian ethics.

I have just said that this view presumes a misleading depiction of the individual. Just as significant, it presumes a misleading depiction of the community, whereby the point of socialization, of induction into a particular community, is to ensure a certain sameness of experience among its members. If the individual is understood as a self-enclosed, autonomous monad, and if the existence of such entities is the problem of modern moral life, then the easy solution lies in community, in binding us together to undertake common tasks. What makes this solution even easier is that an uncontroversial reading of the history of Christian ethics yields community as a predominant good to be pursued.

Significantly, Collins resists this move. He admits, We are deeply socially constituted beings, from the moments as babies when we begin to make noises and gestures in rhythm with our parents, through the adult networks that induct us into cults of experience that we elaborate in our inner lives. Symbols make up the very structure of our consciousness. Symbols are the lenses through which we see. And yet, he appreciates, We do see something through [these symbols]. That experience is a reality, concrete, particular, individual; sometimes of the highest value to ourselves. That the pathway to those experiences is deeply social does not take anything away from them.³ Socialization into a set of normative symbols is a pre-requisite for our capacities, not only for experiencing anything at all, but also for irreducibly individual experiences, the sort of things that cannot be communicated to others, that are often best savored alone. Regarding such experiences, Collins asserts, being with someone else at these moments is often a distraction, and attempting to relate the experience in the clichés of conversation tends more to destroy the experience than to expand it.⁴ The suggestion is not only that there are individual experiences, which are funded yet ultimately unable to be captured by communal norms, but also that the attempt to submit these experiences to communal circulation can violate them. The demand that one articulate such individual experiences so that they are easily communicable to one’s fellows within a particular community can be a form of tyranny, especially if such articulation eradicates the individual qualities of these experiences. In these cases, it is community that stunts our life and renders it vacuous.

While Collins’s point seems to be more about the relationship between experience and language than that between individual and community, it does help address the latter tension. On one hand there is a concern about whether or not language can adequately capture experience, and on a related hand there is a concern about whether or not a community can adequately recognize or appreciate the individuality of its members. To be sure, we cannot neatly align individual with experience and community with language, but Collins’s comments imply a triadic structure of human experience that will animate the argument of this dissertation. At the first pole is the individual self, socially constituted and thereby encumbered, but irreducible to communal membership. At the second pole are the individual self’s social companions, those others through whom the community represents itself and socially constitutes us. At the third pole is what we experience, or more simply, reality. The point of this triadic structure is to disarticulate reality from social inheritance. The individual self has two kinds of relations, irreducible to each other though connected: to reality and to its self-constituting community. The individual’s relations to her social companions enable her to negotiate relations with others, through patterns of response and imitation that culminate in the acquisition of language and conceptual inheritance by which she is able to cooperate with others as they transact with reality. Thus, the individual’s relations to social companions include relations to reality, since the point of most social relations is to deal better with an impinging world. In this sense, we can talk about social experience as a function of what a particular community’s language and conceptual inheritance enable its members to experience individually.

Meanwhile, according to this triadic structure, the individual has a relation to reality irreducible to her socially mediated relation to reality. If the community is responsible for initiating the individual self into organized relations with reality, there will come a time when an individual’s experience of reality grates against, or does not quite match, social experience. My wife and I agree that blue and purple are two distinct colors, and we do not worry that our daughter will fail to discern their difference in our collective, pedagogical hands. Still, sometimes we see a shade on a work of art or piece of clothing that provokes disagreement, one of us discerning blue, the other purple. If our social inheritance has the final word on reality, if our only true relation to reality is socially mediated, then one of us is right and the other wrong. Our shared community would simply pass judgment and settle our controversy. On the other hand, if we each do have an irreducibly individual relation to reality, which is to say, if our socialization conditions but does not determine our experience of reality, and if our shared community recognizes this, then our conflicting discernments would be allowed to stand together. Collins might say that compelling one of us to see the color the other sees, or compelling both of us to see some compromise color, say blue-purple, would strip the personal significance from our own experience of that color.

The stakes become higher once we move to moral and religious contexts. Earlier I cautioned against being pejorative about patriots: we should not assume they are unreflective. We should also not be pejorative about patriotism. According to the triadic structure of human experience, service to one’s own nation can be understood as devotion to some moral cause that one’s nation is understood to represent and exemplify. The patriot serves his own nation because he perceives it as the best available agent for promoting the moral cause to which he is devoted. Again, it is possible that the individual’s experience of that moral cause will grate against social experience of it, and so disagreements can arise regarding, e.g., what America stands for. Prosperity or freedom? What sort of prosperity, and what sort of freedom? Freedom rendered by prosperity, or freedom understood more severely, as a moral cause indifferent to the prosperity of its agents and promoters? How those in power answer these questions, and the institutional policies they recommend and promote, can have a serious, concrete impact on social life and experience. Even disagreements among citizens not in power effect social life. If my neighbor and I radically disagree about America’s purpose, can I trust her? And if I decide I cannot trust her, how healthy can my domestic life be? More is at stake at this level of human life than the personal significance of individual experience.

Moreover, a particular danger arises here: the collapse of the moral cause that America serves, with American life itself, that is, the collapse of the third and second pole of the triadic structure. In this case, American life itself becomes equated with freedom, prosperity, or whatever its moral cause is understood to be. The danger here concerns international life. If other nations believe that America is not serving some moral cause that exceeds it, but rather promoting its own interests and rhetorically dressing it up as a moral mission, America’s international reputation will become increasingly eroded. This danger also concerns individual life. If individual citizens devoted to the moral cause that America claims to serve, do not believe that America is living up to the cause, they should be motivated to critique American life in light of their individual devotion to that cause. If American life has collapsed its moral cause into itself, this critique will be taken simultaneously as treason and immorality, as the betrayal of America itself and of freedom, prosperity, etc., rather than as concern for the moral character of America. In fact, such critique must be taken so in this case. The collapse of moral cause into social life effectively invalidates the possibility of an individual experience of that moral cause that might contest social experience of it.

Consider religious life, in a broadly Christian context. Individual Christians come together and form communities of like-enough-minded Christians to worship a God they understand to have created, to presently sustain, and to ultimately redeem, the universe. Such worship involves agreed-upon language and behavior that somehow refers to God, though God is simultaneously understood to be essentially un-capturable by such communal norms. As with patriots and patriotism, so with religious believers and belief: no need to be pejorative. Religious believers may submit themselves to communal norms, but the point of such submission is an individual devotion, to a God whose power operates beyond those norms but which is best expressed through those norms. Yet again, there is the possibility that individual experience of God will grate against the social experience of God institutionalized in communal norms, and disagreements may arise regarding the appropriateness of religious language and behavior. If one experiences God as primarily caring, is it appropriate to refer to God as Father, or can we allow God to be invoked as Mother? If one experiences God as impersonal power bearing down on all of reality, is it even appropriate to use personal language at all in God-talk? Similarly, if one experiences God as primarily empowering, is it appropriate to kneel and bow, or should we worship with our heads held high and our eyes fixed on heaven? If the latter, shouldn’t the religious demeanor expressed in the rest of our interpersonal lives be one of confidence rather than acquiescence, especially if we are women? Again, more is at stake here than the personal significance of our experience. These sorts of disagreements fracture religious communities and often alienate individuals from such communities.

Meanwhile, the danger of collapsing reality and social inheritance here is nothing less than the danger of idolatry. If communal norms of religious language and behavior are understood as sufficient for relating to God, then being an obedient member of a particular religious community becomes equated to being in relation with God. This danger concerns the life and mission of the church. If those to whom God is witnessed by the religious believe that the church is not serving the God who exceeds it, but rather witnessing to themselves in elevated language, then the purpose of the church’s mission will become radically undermined. Again, this danger also concerns individual religious life. If individual believers do not discern that their religious community is witnessing to the God it claims to worship, then they will be motivated to submit its communal norms to critique, in light of their individual experiences of God. If the religious community has collapsed God into its norms, this critique will likely, and in fact must, be taken simultaneously as betrayal of the community and of God, rather than as critical concern for the religious community’s relation to God. Again, the collapse of God into social religious life effectively invalidates the possibility of an individual experience of God that might contest social experience of God. Stated religiously, such a collapse means that a religious community will discern idolatry in the criticism from its own individual members, as well as in that from other communities, but not in its own activity.

This is the spiritual problem that motivates my book: the tendency of religious communities to idolatrize themselves. As my example of American life and its moral cause should attest, I believe there are secular versions of this problem, whenever some community that claims to serve some reality beyond itself effectively collapses its mode of service with all legitimate service to that reality. Thus, I expect that my argument would have resonance outside of religious communities. Still, the motivating problem of this project and my own attempt to address it, are thoroughly theological. With the rise of secularizing social processes and the apparent decreasing influence of religious institutions in public life, a persistent worry of recent Christian thought has been the accommodation of Christian communities to prevailing social forces and norms, which is understood to radically undermine the churches’ existence and mission. Arguably, this worry was initiated by the work of Karl Barth, who discerned a connection between the crest of nineteenth-century liberal theology, which attempted to make Christian claims answerable to prevailing intellectual and moral standards, and the rise of German nationalism.⁵ Barth responded with his Church Dogmatics, an understanding of theology as a dogmatic inquiry that serves the church, rather than as a general intellectual inquiry that serves the public. Broadly speaking, its theme is the priority of Christ as the norm of theological inquiry and human existence, which functions to cut off accommodation at the root: God’s Yes to human life only arrives after God’s No to all human attempts to live righteously before God. John Howard Yoder, who studied under Barth, spun this christological priority in a sociological direction, using the term Constantinianism to refer to the state of Christian communities who have accommodated their mission to align with the purposes of the powers that be, whether that be the Roman Empire or the United States of America.⁶ Barth and Yoder have given impetus to a trajectory in recent Christian thought, often called post-liberalism, two of whose most renowned articulators I will discuss briefly below, which aims to stave off accommodation by calibrating the task of Christian thought and ethics as the recovery and explication of the distinctively Christian mode of life and reflection. Consider the flourishing of trinitarian theology in the twentieth century and into the twenty-first.⁷ Whether or not all of the thinkers who contribute to this trend understand themselves to be post-liberal, it helps differentiate Christianity both from the other monotheisms and from surrounding social and cultural practices. Such trends are signs of the power of the worry over accommodation.

The worry over accommodation does instantiate a worry over a form of idolatry. If the Christian community’s mission simply aligns with prevailing social practices and norms, then those practices and norms have been effectively elevated to a divine status. The worry is that, for example, ultimate concern is less a way to construe God than a divinization of some human phenomenon, or that the liberation of human life from forces of oppression is less a way to construe discipleship than the replacement of Jesus’ teachings with a secular political agenda. The worry that motivates this book is a response to these sorts of worries. The attempt to overcome accommodation by focusing on Christian distinctiveness easily leads to a focus on forms of thought and life rather than on God. With the addition of an appreciation of humans as socially constituted, the focus on Christian distinctiveness becomes a focus on the Christian community, such that formation and membership in that community is understood to provide the only significant access to God. Meanwhile, if the prevailing social practices and norms from which we are supposed to differentiate Christianity, are understood to instantiate a form of invidious individualism, then the turn to community is further bolstered. Ultimately, membership in Christian community becomes the distinct alternative to the individualistic mode of life somehow (demonically?) held together by liberal society. This solution to accommodation bequeaths its own spiritual problem, namely, a tendency for the Christian community to idolatrize itself.

The problem is two-fold. First, this turn to community performs a turn away from God. Obviously the Christian tradition includes a number of reasons for understanding the church to serve a decisive, irreplaceable function in God’s economy. Still, a turn to the Christian community that is focused on distinctiveness can easily become more concerned with how its practices and norms compare to those of other communities, than with how its practices and norms contribute to life before God; or worse, that distinctiveness will be understood to ensure worshipfulness. Ironically, we need a renewed Barthian turn, toward God and away from humanity.⁸ Second and unsurprisingly, the turn to Christian community as the fundamental antidote to liberal individualism performs a turn away from legitimate individuality. In particular, this turn to community occludes recognition, much less appreciation, of individual relations to God. The Christian tradition includes a number of ways to articulate a plural divine relation to the world: two cities, two kingdoms, two governments, law and gospel, reason and revelation, etc. I would argue that we can understand God to relate to each human individual in a direct, unique, and particular way, without neglecting or denying that God relates to humans on a social level as well, whether generally, through the ordering of human life in communities from families up to global orders, or more specifically, through the church whose head is the divine son and whose purpose is more divinely distinctive than those of other communities.⁹ Scripture supports this: the patriarchs, Moses, and the prophets are paradigmatic instances of God relating to individuals directly. These can be distinguished from instances in the wisdom literature where God is characterized as ordering creation on a more general level, providing the basic structures of human sociality. Moreover, the point of God’s individual relations are social. God covenants with the patriarchs and Moses to create God’s people; God calls the prophets to call that people back to that covenant.

The prophetic example illustrates well the dynamic I articulate in this dissertation. Prophecy presumes a social relationship between God and humans. God has made a covenant with a particular people, and those people are carrying out their end of it through social actions, e.g., sacrifices. However, these social actions are missing the point of the covenant, and so warping divine-human relations as well as human social relations: instead of doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with their God, God’s people are engaging in oppression and attempting to cover it over with luxurious sacrifices (e.g., Micah). In response, God calls an individual prophet to reorient them to the point of their original covenant. This provides a good model for articulating God’s direct relation to individual humans. Just as prophecy presumes a socially mediated relation between God and the Israelites, since God’s covenant is with Israel, so the socially mediated relations between God and Christians as borne out in church life. Individual Christians come to learn who God is through the reading of Christian scriptures, participation in the liturgy, and the various other activities connected to the life of particular church. Since human life before God is meant to be social, it is essential that we create and order a form of social life dedicated to living before God. At the same time, church life teaches us about the ineradicable character of human sin, both individual (e.g., Cain murdering Abel) and social (e.g., Israel neglecting the oppressed, but sacrificing to God). Moreover, we have learned that the church