Curing the Religious Disease, Part 2: The Protestant Principle

Thanks to Tracy (who has guest posted here before) I've started reading some Paul Tillich. Given my existential bent, it should come as no surprise to those who know Tillich that I like what I'm reading.

Relevant to this series, I have been struck by Tillich's notion of embedding criticism into the very fabric of faith. Tillich calls this the Protestant Principle honoring how Protestantism during the Reformation was able to criticize the Roman church. Tillich takes this event of "protest" to be more than just a historical one-off phenomenon, but rather an illustration of a reoccurring mechanism that should be built into the fabric of communal faith. In his Dynamics of Faith, after discussing the role of doubt in personal faith, Tillich turns his attention to communal faith:

The second step in the solution of the problem deals with faith and doubt within the community of faith itself. The question is whether the dynamic concept of faith is incompatible with a community which needs creedal expressions of the concrete elements of it ultimate concern. The answer is that no answer is possible if the character of the creedal excludes all presence of doubt. The concept of the "infallibility" of a decision by a council or a bishop or a book excludes doubt as an element of faith in those who subject themselves to these authorities. They may have to struggle within themselves about their subjection; but after they have made the decision, no doubt can be admitted by them about the infallible statements of the authorities. This faith has become static, a nonquestioning surrender...In this way something preliminary and conditional--the human interpretation of the content of faith from the Biblical writers to the present--receives ultimacy and is elevated above the risk of doubt...

So we stand again before the question: how can a faith which has doubt as an element within itself be united with creedal statements of the community of faith? The answer can only be that creedal statements of the ultimate concern of the community must include their own criticism. It must become obvious in all of them--be they liturgical, doctrinal, or ethical expressions of the faith of the community--that they are not ultimate. Rather, their function is to point to the ultimate which is beyond all of them. This is what I call the "Protestant principle," the critical element in the expression of the community of faith and consequently the element of doubt in the act of faith. Neither the doubt nor the critical element is always actual, but both must always be possible within the circle of faith. From the Christian point of view, one would say that the church with all its doctrines and institutions and authorities stands under the prophetic judgment and not above it. Criticism and doubt show that the community of faith stands "under the Cross," if the Cross is understood as the divine judgment over man's religious life, and even over Christianity though it has accepted the sign of the cross. In this way the dynamic faith which we first described in personal terms is applied to the community of faith. Certainly, the life of a community of faith is a continuous risk, if faith itself is understood as a risk. But this is the character of dynamic faith, and the consequence of the Protestant principle.

Recall from my last post the symptoms of the religious disease:

Disease = Static + Insular + Moral Conviction (an objectively experienced, emotionally laden, moral universal)

Given this "disease" I think Tillich's comments go a fair distance in helping break the fever. Here are some of, in my opinion, Tillich's important insights:

1. Even creedal expressions need to be held tentatively.

2. We should be wary of "infallibility" as it locks in the belief system, shutting down further exploration, questioning, and critique.

3. We must be consistently reminded that the trappings of our religious environment (and this includes the contents of my mind) are provisional human constructions. Gestures toward the Divine but not, in themselves, the Divine.

4. To keep faith fluid and searching entails risk.

5. Most importantly, faith must build in a mechanism of criticism.

I think this idea of embedding mechanisms of criticism within the faith community (and in your own life) is the key insight. I don't see many faith communities building in these mechanisms. Why not? Well, as Tillich notes, faith is inherently risky. And people don't like risk. It's uncomfortable. Thus, we avoid criticism. And as we avoid voices of critique our faith becomes more and more insular. Which means the faith congeals and grows static. And the illness sets in.

So how would you know if a faith community was allowing critique? I'm still thinking about this, but here's my guess:

Do they listen?

Pick a church and ask these questions: Do they listen to the poor? Do they listen to the Democrats? Do they listen to the Republicans? Do they listen to the Iraqis? Do they listen to the culture? Do they listen to the homosexual community? Do they listen to the feminists? Do they listen to the gang leaders? Do they listen to the criminals in prison? And on and on.

Do they listen? Truly listen?

My hunch is that if they listen, honestly listen, then that church will hear plenty of critique, tales of how the church and religion have failed people, overlooked people, damned people, and abused people. And if Tillich is right, to listen is to risk. And my guess is, if the church takes that risk, then God just might find a way to speak to that church.