Roger HAIGHT, S.J.  The Nature of Theology: Challenges, Frameworks, Basic Beliefs.  Orbis Books (Maryknoll, NY 10545, 2022). Paperback, xiv, 170 pages. $23.49. Reviewed by Joseph A. BRACKEN, S.J., Xavier University, Cincinnati, OH 45207.

 

Roger Haight, distinguished Jesuit systematic theologian and visiting professor at Union Theological Seminary in New York City, in the Introduction of this book reviews four issues currently troubling the self-understanding of many educated Christians in the Western world: dialogue with science which often seems indifferent, if not hostile, to traditional Christian beliefs,  liberation theologies with their focus on the needs of the poor and reform of the social order, acceptance of other religious traditions in terms of their belief and practice, the role of Christ as Savior of all humankind (viii-ix). Haight’s own vision of Christian systematic theology is to replace terms like ‘reflection on God’ and ‘faith seeking understanding,’ with an interpretation of the world from the perspective of the symbols of the Christian faith tradition. (viii-xi).  Haight is thereby implicitly setting aside the metaphysics of Aristotle with its strictly rational approach to physical reality in favor of a set of metaphors with their strong personal appeal to religious imagination. But would it not be more in line with the methodology of contemporary science to study the available material data, compose a hypothesis that makes sense of the data, and apply the hypothesis to the data until such time as the original hypothesis has to be either revised or rejected?

For example, Thomas Aquinas began Part One of his Summa Theologiae with the question whether God exists and, if so, how God is to be defined. For that purpose, he uses the pre-existing metaphysics of a secular thinker (Aristotle) but with some reservations about the full applicability of Aristotle’s categories to the understanding of basic Christian beliefs. Haight, however, describes God as Creator of heaven and earth but then claims that the nature of God is pure activity and nothing else: “God’s act of creation is better thought of as a simple act outside of time. The eternal act of God’s being and creating is totum simul, everything all at once” (109).  But, if God is simply an activity, who is the pre-existent Actor to initiate the action and then provide guidance for its ongoing mode of operation? Furthermore, if Activity is all that exists, God becomes a “creature,” an effect of some antecedent higher-order cause. Turning to Christology, Haight refers to Jesus of Nazareth as Mediator (117-138). But how does Jesus mediate between His divine nature and His human nature if He is not already a Person who has to make a choice between working miracles for others and feeling hunger and fatigue at the end of a busy day? The bigger issue here, of course, is intersubjectivity.  How does one “mix and match” two quite different historical processes, one divine and one human?  Appeal to one’s own spiritual experience is only “the tip of the iceberg” if one wants to understand the workings of intersubjectivity on the divine, the human and the non-human levels of existence and activity within the cosmic process.  That is, an Aristotelian substance exists in its own right with an agency proper to itself in dealing with other entities. By way of contrast, processes are readily combined with one another to produce a higher-order effect (e.g., the mind-body relation in an adult human being).  For, as Aristotle and Aquinas earlier realized with their appeal to the notion of matter and form, a human being is both mind and body, namely a higher-order unity-in-diversity of parts or members in which unity plays the leading role.

Haight next suggests that the metaphor of Spirit protects God’s transcendence by making a clear distinction between God and the effects of God’s presence in the world. (142)  But is God then a transcendent Actor or a transcendent Activity? Actors are by definition distinct from one another; but activities as fluid realities merge with one another to produce a higher-order entity with multiple functions. Admittedly, Augustine and Aquinas identified God’s Spirit with grace: “God as Spirit is an interior presence, influence, influence, and empowering energy within the human person.” (143).  But could not the same be said of an evil entity or at least a human being with some serious mental disorder? Discernment of spirits is a key factor in Ignatian spirituality. But how to discern one spirit from another is quite elusive.
Lest I be accused of being overly critical of the life-time work of a brother Jesuit and old friend, I end this review with reference to a celebrated comment of Paul Ricoeur on the use of symbolic language: namely, “the symbol gives rise to thought” (The Symbolism of Evil, 1967). Symbols convey more than one meaning. They are needed to spark the imagination of the believer, but they must be carefully evaluated to determine their meaning and value in any given context.  Presumably for the same reason, science works with concepts and principles that are more sharply defined even though they are still subject to revision or in some cases complete rejection.  For, only in agreeing on the precise meaning and value of key concepts and principles in shaping a hypothesis is everyone assured of being “on the same page.”