Part IV in the JI?s ongoing series on secularism and religious education

I feel honored (and intimidated) to continue a worthwhile discussion on the relationship between secularism and religion in academia. While Taylor, Matt, and Ryan have each provided poignant contributions that explore the ideas, tensions, and environments of this issue, my post is designed more as a reflection on my own experience.

I?ve always had a tough time determining my course of studies. I originally wanted to be a professor of literature, but after three years of English professors critiquing my papers as ?too historical,? I finally got the hint that I should consider something more historical. Not fully learning my lesson, however, I then decided to try my hand at religion and was admitted to a graduate program in historical theology; but, after each of my papers this last year being critiqued as ?too historical,? I realized that my home is truly in a history department. Yet, beyond this interdisciplinary background shaping my methodological and scholarly interests, this path has also shaped my view of how to approach the humanities in general, and the study of religion in particular. Specifically, I?ve come to appreciate secularism for two distinct reasons: the creation of a ?neutral? (a complex term that I promise to unpack below) arena of discussion, and an emphasis on the complexity, multiplicity, and problematic nature of the human experience.

If, as Ryan put it in his secularism post, the University of Chicago?s Divinity School ?epitomizes the evolution of the Divinity School? by integrating the school into the rest of the University, the University of Edinburgh is on the other side of that evolution (I imagine even more so than Harvard); many British Schools of Divinity are based on the traditional theology-focused programme, and Edinburgh is definitely a model of that approach. Indeed, even the building in which we study is set apart from the rest of the campus, on the opposite side of the ?Royal Mile,? and is housed, appropriately enough, in a two-century-old Church of Scotland complex. Though this has been a wonderful experience for me, it has opened my eyes to both the possibilities and limitations of this traditional, and to a certain degree pre-secularized, approach.

Most pertinent are my experiences of being in a ?German Theology? class with four other students (a Presbyterian, an Anglican, a Catholic, and an Agnostic) debating the virtues of Feuerbach?s theology and how it relates to our own belief. The discussion vacillated from informative to awkward as we shared things that I typically kept private (at least in an academic setting) due to my previous training. The others were very respectful of my religious background, but it was obvious they were somewhat shocked to find someone learning Christian theology who still felt comfortable within the parameters of Mormonism. Most interesting to me, though, was realizing that I was the most hesitant out of everyone to actually discuss my belief; despite being raised in a proselyting church and even serving a mission, it was as if there were elements of my religiosity that I did not feel comfortable sharing in such a setting.

And this is where Rudolf Otto came in, almost as a relief toward the end of the semester. Otto, a German Lutheran theologian, penned the classic text The Idea of the Holy which outlined what he believed to be reasonable boundaries for the study of religion, and which took a softer approach to the secularization of the academy. He explained that religious scholars must acknowledge two different ingredients of religion: the ‘rational,’ which can be conceptually understood by any observer, and the ‘holy,’ or ‘numinous,’ which ‘remains inexpressible…in the sense that it completely eludes apprehension in terms of concepts.’ This experience of the divine, which can only be felt by those within the movement, always remains a mystery that is terrifying, fascinating, and, most importantly, beyond description. While such an approach can sound like a cop-out for believers, and appears to make communication nearly impossible between participants and observers—indeed, Otto tells his audience that whoever has not experienced this divine manifestation ‘is requested to read no further’—these boundaries are established in order to define and encourage what can be discussed; by separating the sacred from the profane, ciphering the understandable from the mysterious, presents a possibility of a ‘neutral’ plane of dialogue.[1]

The ?neutral? arena of discussion that I feel is a positive product of secularization is one that not only enables dialogue, but encourages it. It acknowledges the epistemological differences that Matt B succinctly pointed out, and keeps the academic discussion of religion within, to borrow Kant?s influential title, ?the boundaries of reason alone.? This is where the focus of education is on understanding, and not necessarily empathizing. It is in this type of setting, made possible by secularization, that I personally, and I imagine others agree, feel more comfortable discussing religion. By categorizing faith as ‘irrational’ in the sense that it is outside the boundaries of rational, academic discourse, it both reassures my own belief and makes discussion more possible.

Second, my experience in Edinburgh?s Divinity School has also taught me the importance of understanding religion as just one of many interrelated human elements. While I have had wonderful professors who remind us continually of non-religious factors, the temptation is always present to label subjects as purely ?religious? or ?secular? (this is mostly at the student level, I should make clear). I?ve seen this dichotomy take place in both religious and non-religious settings, with either side attempting to diminish the influence of one arena in favor of another. This was especially the case in a class I sat in on last semester that had a mix of Philosophy and Anthropology majors from the main campus and Theology majors from the Divinity school; let’s just say most classes ended up in heated discussions with all sides speaking past each other. Such outlooks simplify the human mind and human experience.

This idea has been driven home in my own thesis work, where I am focusing on the religious responses to Thomas Paine in the 1790s. Paine, a militant deist, drew much contempt from American ministers with the publication of his Age of Reason. Yet most scholarly treatments of these responses to Paine fall in two distinct categories: first, those historians who claim that American ministers despised Paine due to his theological blasphemies, or second, those claiming that the ministers despised him because he epitomized the radicalism of the French Revolution.[2] Yet, the more one gets into the topic, the more one sees these two approaches as inseparably connected; that in the eyes of American religionists, the two threats were one and the same. To me, this is a reaffirmation that we, as human beings, are always a complex mixture of multiple impulses, desires, and allegiances, which often renders categorization as a fruitless, if still necessary, endeavor.

The implications of this idea are twofold. First, that the old model of Divinity Schools and religious education, where religion is separated and distinct from other University studies, has severe limitations. In this paradigm, the ?modern? model of Schools of Divinity that Ryan T. depicts has distinct advantages because it highlights the point that religion is just one of many approaches to understanding the human experience, and should thus have a close working relationship with all other University genres. (And, I would personally argue, Departments of Religion are even better equipped for this approach.) Religious Studies, by nature, has to be interdisciplinary. Second, it means that, even from a secular point of view, religion is an intricate part of studying humanity and cannot be isolated as ?wholly other? when compared to ?secular? approaches. Contra to what scholars like Steven Pinker or Richard Dawkins would like us to think, religion, whether natural or not, is an ingredient that cannot be dismissed.

Yet, after mentioning the virtues of secularization?even if it is only my own tempered version of secularization?I should still mention that there are distinct elements of the ?secularization? process that trouble me, and especially the ?neutral ground? idea I present above; most particularly, the distance it places between the academy and the rest of the nation (I speak specifically of America here). One of the most influential pieces of scholarship I read as an undergrad was Stephen Prothero?s ?Belief Unbracketed,? where he pleaded for religious scholars to ?tear down?the barrier against our own judgments,? whether religious or moral. He urged us to ?resuscitate religion as a moral enterprise, make bracketing a temporary strategy rather than an eternal imperative.?[3] This message has been repeated, if in a less dramatic way, in Louis Menand?s recent Marketplace of Ideas, where he encouraged a closing of the gap between the ivory tower and the populace.[4] In brief: does the secularization of the academy outpace by too much of a distance the larger American community, causing a separation that makes fruitful interaction impossible?

These are important questions for scholars studying religions, especially those within a School of Religion, and I?ll enjoy watching how it plays out from the comforts of a history department. 🙂

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[1] Rudolf Otto, The Idea of the Holy: An Inquiry into the Non-Rational Factor in the Idea of the Divine and its Relation to the Rational, translated by John W. Harvey (London: Oxford University Press, 1950), 1,5, 9. Perhaps Otto’s biggest relevance is his influence on Mircea Eliade, who has received some attention lately in the Mormon community.
[2] For an example of the former camp, see Holifield?s Theology in America; for the latter, see Wood?s recent Empire of Liberty.
[3] Stephen Prothero, ?Belief Unbracketed: A Case for the Religious Scholar to Reveal More of where He or She is Coming From,? Harvard Divinity Bullitan, here. See ensuing responses to Prothero, as well.
[4] Louis Menand, The Marketplace of Ideas: Reform and resistance in the American University (New York: W. W. Norton Company, 2010). It should be noted that Menand was among the Harvard professors mentioned in Lisa Miller?s Newsweek article that fought for a class titled ?Reason and Faith.?