James Alison on Truth and Violence
Commonweal’s January 30th issue had Christopher Ruddy’s fine introductory article about the English theologian, James Alison. Here’s how Ruddy begins the article:
It is said that there are two kinds of theologians: those whose subject is theology, and those whose subject is God. James Alison studies God. Best known as a “gay theologian,” for his extensive writings on homosexuality, Alison is a priest no longer attached to a diocese or religious order-in his own word, a “nonperson” canonically.
Ruddy continues:
Alison can also be a frustrating writer. Here is a theology that lifts one up out of one’s chair in excitement and drops one to one’s knees in prayer-and also makes one bang one’s head against its sometimes maddening inability to get to the point. Alison is a master of circumlocution; one must sift to find the golden nuggets, of which there are many, amid the torrents of words and ideas.
Alison’s baroque brilliance is on display in a reflection he posted on his website (my thanks to Robert Mickens for bringing it to my attention). It is a long and detailed analysis of some recent Vatican statements that Alison actually reads as both painful and promising for Gay Catholics.
One need not be convinced by Alison’s arguments to find them helpful, both as the considered expression of a passionately committed Christian thinker and as a spur for refining one’s own discernment.
What is typical of Alison (and here his Dominican heritage and his love for Thomas Aquinas show themselves) is his single-minded focus upon truth. But Alison is also instructed by the work of his other great mentor, René Girard. At the end of his article Alison transcribes a quote from Pascal that appears in Girard’s latest book. It deftly unites Aquinas and Girard:
What a long and strange war it is where violence tries to crush truth! Hard as it may struggle, violence cannot weaken truth, and its efforts only make truth stand out more clearly. Truth, however brightly it may shine, can do nothing to stop violence, and its light only irritates violence even more. When might is ranged against might, the stronger defeats the weaker. When discourse is ranged against discourse, what is true and convincing confounds and dissipates what is based only on vanity and lies. But violence and truth can do nothing, the one against the other. Nevertheless, don’t be fooled by that into thinking that they are at the same level as each other. For there is this extreme difference between them: that violence only has a course marked out for it by God’s command, such that its effects redound to the glory of the truth which it is attacking, while truth subsists eternally, and triumphs in the end over its enemies. Because it is as eternal and powerful as God himself.
To which words Alison utters a heart-felt “Amen.”
It probably goes without saying that truth and violence aren’t the only players on the field. Error is entirely possible.
Kathy,
thank you for making explicit what was implicit in my reference to “discernment.”
Reading Alison’s piece is quite an experience. Along the way there are so many windows opened on new perspectives. But about Alison’s central point, I have mixed feelings. His picture of a world in which violence is weakened and revealed to be what it is by every assault it makes on truth may be the case in the long run. The very long run. But we live in the here and now, and unless we recognize and resist violence against truth in our own moment, aren’t we responsible for tragic delay in the development of any future consensus for truth?
No doubt my uneasiness on this point is my own fault. I remember reading Jane Eyre when I was a child and instinctively agreeing with the unregenerate Jane when she is counseled (wisely) by a saintly friend whose Christian philosophy sounds a bit like Alison’s here. The poor child bursts out: “If people were always kind and obedient to those who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it all their own way; they would never feel afraid, and so they would never alter, but would grow worse and worse.” The character in the novel seems to end up with a broader perspective (though conveniently triumphing over all who caused her grief) but I still see her point. In the short run.
I should be explicit myself, Fr. Imbelli. I think Girard’s theology makes at least two serious errors of reduction. First, Jesus is reduced to a teacher, and his salvation is reduced to the unlocking of the scapegoat mechanism. Secondly, Girard’s reading of Scripture is extraordinarily accommodated. He reduces very complex mysteries of revelation to this one particular idea of the scapegoat. As one example, in his discussion of the story of Cain and Abel in Violence and the Sacred, God is effectively made a non-actor in the story, and God’s refusal to accept Cain’s offering is a myth, and a mere statement of a human reality–the murderousness of Cain.
Baruch Levine makes a similar criticism about Girard’s theory’s failure to account for the sufferings of Job: “Rene Girard on Job: The Question of the Scapegoat,” Semeia 33.01, pp. 125-33.
I think Girard also makes a large phenomenological error by holding that all desire is mimetic. But my real beef is his reduction of revelation to this one thin theory.
Susan,
thanks for the reference to Jane Eyre. I think your “long run/short run” distinction holds true. The challenge, I think, is how do we, in the short run, “resist” in a way that is inspired by the Gospel?
Kathy, your critique of Girard is as succinct and neat a one as I’ve seen.
Thank you–it”s a term paper, condensed, I suppose, over time.
Susan, I don’t think the statement means that truth should never resist, the issue is how it should resist violence. However, I find the entire statement problematic because it sets up a juxtaposition between two qualities that are not necessarily mutually exclusive (who says truth can’t be violent — people rioting out of hunger and desperation are most definitely asserting a kind of truth) and is so devoid of context that it is almost meaningless. Maybe the rest of the chapter provides more practical detail.
The trouble is that Our Lord always complicates things.
“Put up your sword” to Peter;
“Turn the other cheek” to all of us.
Even more complicated: “I have not come for peace but for the sword,” and “The one who has no sword must sell his cloak and buy one.”
Gabriel–
I agree with your point that Christ doesn’t make it easy to be a Christian (Flannery O’Connor makes that clear in the Christian realism found throughout her writing), but I think Christ’s command to Peter to “put up” his sword was actually an order to put it down (or at least to return the sword to a non-threatening posture). I could be wrong, but repeated viewings of “The Three Musketeers,” “The Man in the Iron Mask,” etc. have made me an armchair expert in fencing terminology. :)
Off topic a little, I want write a little about Alison on the topic of the Spirit.
On May 13, 2007, theologian Alison spoke at the London Centre
for Spirituality. It was a day of ecumenical discussion and
exploration about the use of the word ‘spirit’. It was organized by
the Quaker Retreat Group of London. Alison along with Timothy Peat
Ashworth (tutor in Biblical Studies at Woodbrooke Quaker study
centre) gave short presentations to begin the day.
I want to summarize a little of what James Alison had to say. He
realized after he read Ashworth’s handout that he actually was going
to say about the same thing but in different language. To be
original Alison decided to let his Catholic systematic theologian
come out. Alison admitted to having a “little Ratzinger within” who
really always wants to come out. He is not talking about Ratzinger
the Pope but before Ratzinger became the Pope. Alison’s Ratzinger
who wants to come out is a Germanic systematic theologian. So
Alison decided to make more systematic “points” about the Holy Spirit.
Alison reminds us than we are talking about the Holy Spirit we are
not talking about an ‘add on’. When we talk about the Holy Spirit we
are talking about God. We are often betrayed by little bits of
grammar and think of the Holy Spirit as an “it”. Alison tells us
that the Holy Spirit is ‘I AM – a quality of I AM’. He wanted to
make this point clear.
Now, God doesn’t have qualities – any quality of God is God. He
asks us to think of God as a verb and the adverb is the Holy Spirit.
“Because we’re talking about ‘I AM’, and the whole point of ‘I AM’ is
that it’s not a ‘he’ or an ‘it’ or a ‘she’ that can be grasped, but
is a coming-towards-us-out-of-nowhere, and we are the peripheral
bits, if you like. We’re the object, not the subject…When we’re
talking about God we’re talking about the protagonism, the real
protagonism, behind everything that is, and of which we are the
symptoms – rather than an object within our field of vision…”
http://www.jamesalison.co.uk/texts/eng47.html
Yikes.
Kathy,
What is the yikes about?
I feel as though Alison has asked the Quakers to paint God’s toenails by candlelight.
Kathy,
I have no idea what point you are trying to make.
First I would have to say that Alison’s grammatical categories make zero sense to me. AM is not a verb of motion: it is a verb of being. Why would I AM mean I AM ooomphing?
Further, verbs of being are not modified by adverbs but by adjectives.
Later in the talk Alison mentions God in Himself, and says that God has a life, and creation is gratuitous–all well and good. But why wouldn’t I AM be a proper name for that life, instead of the description of ad extra activity?
(I have more to say but it will have to wait until I’m not typing on a phone.)
Kathy,
Beliefs in God should never be based upon the limits of our vision or grammar. Our beliefs should always be a means of expanding that vision. When a man’s relationship to God changes radically, his life and mind open in ways that he could not imagine. Normally we are inclined to think of transformation as a progression.
“Yahweh is the God of freedom and there are to be no other gods… The
important thing is not just to be religious, to worship something
somehow. The important thing is to find, or be found by, the right God
and to reject and struggle against the others… This God of freedom
will allow you none of the comforts of religion. Not only does he tear
you away from the old traditional shrines and temples of your native
place, but he will not even allow you to worship him in the old way.
You are forbidden to make an image of him by which you might wield
numinous power, you are forbidden to invoke his name in magical rites.
You must deny the other gods and you must not treat Yahweh as a god, as
a power you could use against your enemies or to help you to succeed in
life. Yahweh is not a god, there are no gods, they are all delusions
and slavery. You are not to try to comprehend God within the
conventions and symbols of your time and place; you are to have no
image of God because the only image of God is man…”
~ Herbert McCabe, OP
(James Alison was a student of the late Herbert McCabe,OP)
Gabriel –
Yes, the Lord is confusing ! The sayings of Jesus you quote starkly present the horns of the Christian dilemma: whether to act justly or charitably. It’s the same sort of opposition we found in the indulgences thread — pay/do not pay your debts.. It’s Jane Eyre’s problem — speak/do not speak unpleasant truths.
We know that Jesus exaggerated to emphasize His points, but that doesn’t help us discern what to do. Surely there must be some Christian moral principles that could help with the dilemma. But what are they?
I keep thinking that we must do what is fitting given the circumstances. But what do I mean by “fitting”? I’m not at all sure just what I mean by the word. The sad fact is that sometimes we have only a very fuzzy consciousness of what we intend to say, yet paradoxically we know that that is *exactly* what we do mean.
Michael –
James Alison was first recommended to me as a Thomist and linguistic analyst. Sometimes they’re called “analytic Thomists”. Unsurprisingly, they tend to be English, and include the conservative Elizabeth Anscombe as well as the liberal Alison. That’s not surprising — linguistic analysis is not a *school* of philosophy but a method of doing philosophy and theology and social science and. . . and. . . ..
Alison’s analysis of “I AM” is a good example of just how LA can help us understand *our own* meanings of words and why we use them as we do. While the analysts have the reputation of being lingjistic geeks, wallowing in philosophical and linguistic technicalities, I think you can see from Alison’s Australian paper that an analyst can approach a problem with as much passion as anyone.
I say all this by way of encouraging any young theologians or philosophers on the blog to get into linguistic analysis. It can be very, very revealing.
Kathy –
If you limit your understanding of what language does and how it does it to what the grammarians teach, you will miss a whole revolution in linguistic studies that began 150 years ago. It’s not just contemporary science that has progressed in leaps and bounds. I recommend John Austin’s tiny “How to Do Things with Words”. It’s a mind-opener. Follow that by some of John Searle’s early work on language. Then, you might reward yourself with Wittgenstein’s “Philosophical Investigations”, and you’re off to the races :-)
AM can be construed as a verb of motion in Exodus 3.14 “ehyeh asher ehyeh.”
Thanks to Fr Imbelli for drawing attention to Alison’s essay. I found it extraordinarily thought-provoking, and felt that my own jottings on the same topic have been merely reactive in comparison with his deeply reflective piece. His discussion of the Pope as ‘Peter’ may be overoptimistic in the short term, but it is a model of how we should all have sought to dialogue with the papacy, over the last 30 years, instead of nagging in bull sessions and blogfests.
I agree that Girard’s theory has limits when applied to the complexities of Scripture or of Greek culture, but nonetheless it has proven extraordinary suggestive and illuminating to scholars as well as to its lay adherents; it is an un-bypassable reference in works such as Charles Segal, “Dionysiac Poetics and Euripides’ Bacchae” in which he figures alongside Detienne and Kerenyi as one who has laid a valuable foundation fo”r a critical reevaluation of the Bacchae”.
Fr. O’Leary,
It seems to me that when a theory fails significantly when applied to the complexities of Scripture, it fails to be a viable theology, whatever its effects. (In this case, the effect of making the bacchanal and the Gospel comfortable bed-fellows, so to speak, is dubious in itself, but that’s another question.)
If someone wanted to say that Girard is an interesting social commentator, that’s fine by me. But to take the entire scriptures and bend them to your own theory is a serious power grab. Girard is an influence: his theory is easy and attractive and apparently earnest. Although it can’t lead to world peace–because of just the power vacuum problem that Susan describes–I do believe that Girard and his followers are earnest about that. But I don’t think it can be described as a Christian theology.
I’m pretty sure someone wrote a response to Gil Baillie (another popular Girardian) in Communio along those lines.
I think it’s a flawed social theory as well, but again that’s another story.
Ann,
Wittgenstein is definitely someone I should read. Maybe the reason I haven’t yet is because of one bad example: there was this guy in my senior seminar in college who was into Wittgenstein for a long period. He would say something unintelligible in class, put his hand to his head for a minute, and then say, “Language.”
There was another guy who did the same thing in philosophy when we were studying Kant. He would talk for maybe 20 minutes and then say, “Concepts.”
For myself, ordinarily I need content for thinking.
I was very happy to see Christopher Ruddy’s article. I’ve been thinking for quite awhile that Alison’s thought needed some sort of introduction to the wider Catholic world (it seems that often he’s mostly known only in gay Catholic circles).
I agree with Kathy on the limitations of Girard’s theory when applied to theology. Specifically, I always wonder what it does to Israel. It seems to make the the Old Testament into as much a perpetrator of social violence as any other. Importantly, it certainly does not single it out as anything out of the ordinary, that is, there is not greater violence there than anywhere else in our fallen world. It is certainly not anti-Semitic. And it has the advantage of helping to understand such disturbing elements as the ban. However, it does not seem to be able to tell what makes it revelatory, especially more so than any other social or textual artifact.
That being said, James Alison is one of the most stirring thinkers that I’ve encountered. Not only does his theology delve into the deepest core of the faith, it does so with an unswerving hope that I consistently envy. Alison has suffered much at the hands of the institutional church, but the hope which is still evident in his writings is best described, perhaps, as miraculous. To see the current climate in the Catholic Church towards gays and lesbians as hopeful requires a confidence in God’s spirit that I only hope and pray I might one day possess.
As an aside, I find that the liberal/conservative dynamic falls apart with someone like Alison. He certainly rejects the official teaching on homosexuality, but in matters that pertain to the deepest contents of the faith, the revelation of God as Trinity in Jesus Christ, there are few theologians more unremittingly orthodox. I find this an interesting trait among many who could be considered Queer Theologians: Alison, Gerard Loughlin, Graham Ward, Mark Jordan, Elizabeth Stuart, among others. Orthodoxy and dissent seem to merge quite fruitfully in their thought.
Ann-
Thanks for your comments. I appreciate them and I learn from them. In fact I am constantly learning from you. Faith is not faith in something beyond change. Faith is faith in change. Faith is forged in the messy encounters we have with the world and with each other. The more the abundance and prodigality of reality is revealed by us, the truer and more fruitful our faith will be.
I don’t know if I would call Alison a “stirring thinker,” but he is very engaging. Here is a video from his website: http://www.trinitywallstreet.org/multimedia/webcast.php?id=123
“In the book of Ecclesiastes, part of the Wisdom of Solomon, to whom it
was traditionally ascribed, you get an indication of how things should
be, as set out by Wisdom. When Wisdom orchestrates, there is a time for
dancing and a time for mourning: each has its proper place, and they
flow into each other, like the children’s game when it is working. But
when vanity gets in the way, and vanity is described as like the wind,
going round and round, going nowhere, you get the breakdown of the
proper time for things, and people shouting at each other instead. So
Jesus is pointing to something about how ‘this generation’, his
contemporaries, have got bogged down into vanity, going nowhere at all,
with their culture breaking down into mutual recrimination. Yet,
nevertheless, he says, Wisdom is at work, bringing all things to be the
way that is artful, full of meaning and vitality, the very opposite of
vanity, where everything goes round and round in ever more cantankerous
circles, grinding down into paralysis.”
~James Alison.
I am grateful to all for their comments and to James Alison for prompting the thoughtful exchange.
I was moved by Father O’Leary’s winning “confession”: “I found it extraordinarily thought-provoking, and felt that my own jottings on the same topic have been merely reactive in comparison with his deeply reflective piece.”
And by Andy Buechel’s cogent assertion: “in matters that pertain to the deepest contents of the faith, the revelation of God as Trinity in Jesus Christ, there are few theologians more unremittingly orthodox.”
I think that only in the spirit of these remarks, and guided by God’s Holy Spirit, can we move forward with fidelity and creativity.
The following piece just appeared on the James Alison’s website:
http://www.jamesalison.co.uk/texts/eng54.html