Again, the original goal of existential theology was to replace metaphysical beliefs with accounts of human experience. The goal was to demythologize. What I'm suggesting isn't a replacement like this but using human experience to name our Augustinian longing for God. Naming this existential restlessness brings God back into view in a world where God has gone missing.
So, what might this look like? Let me illustrate how an existential description can help us talk about God in a post-Christian world.
I'll use here, as an illustration, material from a series of posts I shared not too long ago about the soul.
To start, the soul can be hard to believe in for disenchanted, doubting, post-Christian people. From a materialistic perspective, the soul, as a spooky, ghostly thing, doesn't exist. Given that skepticism, we might, at this point, try the positivistic, lump it or leave it, horse pill approach, insisting that the soul exists and you must believe in its existence. You could try that positivistic approach, but I don't think shouting at doubters is all that effective.
A different approach, though, would be to borrow from existential theology to share with skeptics an existential description of the soul. That is, don't describe the soul as a spooky "thing" that exists, but describe the soul as a location of human experience and Augustinian restlessness.
For example, as I recently shared, when we say "soul" one of the things we are describing is the arena where the moral drama of our lives plays out. We feel our "soul" to be at risk in this life. We can save our soul or lose our soul. Parents will describe trying to "save the soul" of a child who is struggling. We all feel this, the pathos of trying to become the best version of ourselves in light of the darkness always close at hand. Doing the next right thing isn't easy, and our struggles here aren't really about our brain. We're fighting to save our soul.
We also feel that that our soul can be hurt and damaged in this struggle. Psychologists call this moral injury. Note that this injury isn't neurological or biological. The damage is moral and spiritual in nature. When we do things that scar or wound our conscience the soul, and not the brain, is what is damaged.
Finally, we all sense that at the end of life our souls will be weighed in the balance. Our lives will be judged. The content of our character will be evaluated. Perhaps by God at Judgment Day. Maybe by karma or reincarnation. Perhaps it will be the verdict of history or in the stories told about us by those we leave behind. Did we, in the end, do more harm than good? Was my life wasted? Did I make a positive difference?
Now notice what I'm doing here. I'm not trying to get you to believe in a spooky object called the soul, something you think may or may not exist. I'm sidestepping that conversation. I'm not forcing a belief upon you. I am, rather, using evocative existential descriptions of human experience that point toward what most of us think of when we think about the soul. And yes, if you're paying attention, I am demythologizing, replacing an ontological belief (i.e., the soul is a spooky thing that exists) with a description of human experience (i.e., the pathos of our moral lives). And yet, and this is the critical point, I'm not doing this to replace the one for the other. I am, rather, using an evocative existential description, leaning into existential theology, for evangelistic purposes. I'm making the soul plausible and believable in a post-Christian culture.
To be sure, perhaps an existential description of the soul is as far as people bewitched by materialism can go. But that need not be the default expectation. Demythologization need not be the end, but can serve as a means, an evangelistic tool useful in talking about God in an unbelieving world.
This is how we reclaim existential theology. Without God, our hearts are restless. And in the face of that restlessness we could start a conversation about God by opening up a Bible or fussing about the tradition and creeds. We could try that positivistic, lump it or leave it, approach, forcing metaphysical horse pills down the throat of a post-Christian world. Or, we could speak directly into our Augustinian restlessness to evoke a longing and desire for God.
If that strikes you as a good idea, take a look at existential theology.
