In a press conference the morning after the conclave, Cardinal Francis George of Chicago aptly remarked, “In 1978 when John Paul II was elected the primary challenge to the Catholic Church came from the east in the form of Soviet Communism. Today however the most difficult challenge comes from the west. Benedict XVI is a man who comes from the west and who understands the culture and the history of the west.” The challenge to which Cardinal Francis George refers is sometimes called relativism, the fashionably postmodern view that truth is itself a ‘construct’ and the dangerous legacy of the meta-narratives of the enlightenment, narratives founded upon the audacious Judeo-Christian notion that human history is not only profoundly meaningful, but is also going somewhere. Rather than holding onto such claims, postmodern orthodoxy rejects the entire spiritual and intellectual heritage of the west, replacing it with the concept that human identity, experience and culture are simply constructs entirely dependent upon our subjective, linguistic, cultural and historical horizons. In short, the only truth is that Truth (capital T) is untenable: a good postmodernist will only go so far as to politely acknowledge ‘competing truth claims.’ Not exactly fertile soil for the gospel.
Here in Canada we have seen first-hand the near collapse of Catholicism in Quebec, while English speaking Canada appears to be following the footsteps of Europe towards what has been called the ‘spiritual collapse of the west.’ And this problem is compounded by the dynamics of global power and communications; the west now stands poised to disseminate this mentality to the rest of the world.
This summer I had the good fortune of reading ‘God and the World’ (Ignatius Press 2002), Pope Benedict XVI’s book length interview with Peter Seewald, and was heartened to discover that we have a Pope that truly appreciates the gravity of this problem (I would not be surprised if grappling with this challenge will come to one day define his pontificate). Even the name ‘Benedict’ refers to the great St Benedict, the father of western monasticism who built the foundations of a new civilization within a crumbling Roman Empire.
But in order to grasp the problem, a nuance is in order. This is not a descent into a pragmatic atheism that characterized the political ideologies of the 20th century. Benedict sees this not as a ‘religious crisis’ but clearly as a ‘God-crisis’: “The formula today is ‘no to God, yes to religion.’ People want to have some kind of religion, esoteric or whatever it may be. But a personal God, who speaks to me, who know s me personally, who has said something quite specific and who has met me with a specific demand, and who will also judge me—people don’t want him. What we see is religion being separated from God.” Reading this called to mind the countless times in conversation I have heard people characterize themselves with the phrase; “I’m not ‘religious’, but I consider myself spiritual.” For Benedict, this is the result of western philosophical relativism having been ‘baptized’ by eastern religious agnosticism.
What’s the fuss, you ask? The divorce between religion and spirituality has major spiritual and social consequences. The dynamic of spiritual healing involves overcoming our pride and self-deception by submitting to God, which is not what happens when we tailor an image of God to suit our specifications, as Benedict observes, “they have wandered away from God and now only turn to refracted images in which they see reflected only themselves.” We are made in God’s image, not vice-versa. If ideologically driven atheism was the heresy of the 20th century, religion-without-God may in fact be the reigning heresy of our time.
Socially, the consequence of this erosion is that we live in a time where everything appears to be up for grabs, from the definition of marriage to the very status of human life. When the very ground of truth erodes the given-ness of things is called into question, which is why it seems fairly obvious that the reason gay marriage has become such a burning issue is because it hinges upon this matter, that is, Is our social reality to be oriented towards a horizon beyond our own? Is there a divine order, revealed in the Judeo-Christian tradition, to which the human order must be attuned?
Ironically, a major obstacle towards realizing that there is a deeper truth is often good intentions. Benedict acknowledges that people who resist the notion of truth in an absolute sense are often motivated by the suspicion that such a position leads to violence, whereas relativism is thought to produce a tolerance and peace. However having lived through the Nazi rule of Germany, Benedict has seen first-hand the danger of anchoring truth in anything less than God alone. Despite the claims that relativism is superior because it produces a type of peace, the truth of the Christian faith actually protects human freedom and dignity by elevating it beyond the whims of popular opinion and the authority of the state. The ultimate foundation of democracy and human rights is guaranteed—not compromised—by the truth of our loving creator.
But even if pluralism does create a type of peace, this is only a negative virtue. It is not enough to adopt a philosophical system because fails to provide us with something to kill for: it must give us something to live for. That something is that Christ is the incarnate meaning of history and the self-manifestation of truth itself. Christians in this post-Christian era must walk a fine line between proclaiming the truth of our faith, while humbly realizing that the truth has too often been co-opted for evil. Perhaps a humble but firm witness to the truth will show others that the truth of our faith is life-giving and redemptive. With plenty of grace, this may be enough for truth with a capital ‘T’ to penetrate the cynical (but well-intentioned) postmodern heart.
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