Pretending To Leave Modernity Behind

Just finished Who’s Afraid of Postmodernism? by James K.A. Smith. In some ways this was a very helpful book, but at the center, the place where the door moves on the hinge, this door squeaks in as annoying and exasperating a way as all the others.

The tone is set in the introduction to the series, where it says the line of books is dedicated to providing “accessible introductions to postmodern thought with the specific aim of exploring its impact on ecclesial practice” (p. 10). This means the whole project is bass-ackwards from the start. No problem deciding how to present the gospel to a postmodern generation. Lots of problems when you decide the task is to let that generation explain to you how they would like the gospel to be presented to them. So there is trouble on the threshold.

But at first glance, Smith seems to be different from some of the other evangelical cheerleaders for “grappling with” postmodernism. He skipped the pom-poms for starters, and, for another, he says things like “insofar as the emerging church shrinks from an unapologetic dogmatics . . . it remains captive to the dreams, ambitions, and skepticism of modernity” (p. 25). This seems promising, but later in the book, we see it all slip away.

Smith helpfully shows that some of simplistic “bumper-sticker” understandings of Derrida, Lyotard, and Foucault are, well, simplistic. And his explanation does show that they are simplistic, but this is not the same thing as showing that they are not justified. But more on that later.

For example, Derrida’s dictum that there is “nothing outside the text” is shown by Smith to not be a claim that there is no outside world. “When Derrida claims that there is nothing outside the text, he means there is no reality that is not always already interpreted through the mediating lens of language” (p. 39). Sure, the world might be out there, but there is no way to get at it through any uninterpreted means. This means that for Derrida there is nothing epistemolgically outside the text. But this means the bumpersticker understanding of Derrida has a point. “There is nothing knowable outside the text” is functionally equivalent to “there is nothing outside the text.” And if we are talking espistemology, how many epistemic centers are there? Well, how many readers are there, and why should we privilege any one of them over another? This introduces real problems, and we see them start to affect Smith himself.

“If we say that the gospel is an interpretation, then it is not objectively true in the traditional or modern sense of being self-evident or universally demonstrable” (p. 48).

Yes, I know. This kind of talk gives conservative believers, me included, the screaming fantods. But Smith would defend himself by saying he is talking about Cartesian objectivity. Notice the qualifiers — “self-evident” and “universally demonstrable.” But in addressing these issues, why don’t these men deal with Van Til? It is all there in Van Til. Here is a bumpersticker: “Van Til, now more than ever!”

Look at it this way. Why can’t we agree with Derrida that all is interpretation — there is no such thing as an uninterpreted fact. No such thing as reality raw. Out of all these interpretations, we may then divide them into two categories: the false ones and the true one. Since God is the only one in full possession of the true interpretation, He graciously revealed to us what He wanted us to know of that true interpretation. So what happens when we define objectivity, not as autonomous access to “self-evident and universally-accessible” truths, and instead define objectivity as obedient access to the one true and unchanging interpretation of reality? Uncertainty is corrosive, not only of Cartesian objective truth, but also of biblical obedience. More on certainty in a minute.

In postmodernism there is this constant assumption that language does nothing but murk things up, and because language is everywhere, everything is murky. But what if God created language in order to enable His creatures to understand what He reveals to them? And what if the murkiness comes, not from language, but from lies? Suppose the problem is sin, and not creaturely speech? Just a thought.

But Smith, once he clambers out of the Cartesian boat, promptly sinks to the bottom. Comparing the Christian with with Buddhist account of reality, he says that neither is objectively true. But remember that by “objective” he is talking about Descartes’ idea of objectivity. “In fact, both are interpretations; neither is objectively true” (p. 50). The real problem here is what Smith does not go on to say. He does not say that even though Cartesian certainty is an idolatrous pipe dream (which it is), it remains the case that the Buddhist interpretation of reality is false, sinful and idolatrous, and that the Christian interpretation, being just as much an interpretation of reality as Buddhism, is nonetheless true and right. The question is not whether all human knowledge is interpretive in nature. Of course it is. (Van Til! Van Til!) The question is whether or not God will eternally judge false interpretations. If God will judge false interpretations of reality, then that is the only objectivity we need. There is nothing more objective and universally applicable than the Last Judgment. That judgment will be objective enough for all of us. Man will not be the standard there. Self-evident and universally-accessible knowledge will not be the judge. All such standards are not objective enough. And all that foolishness will be in the dock, not behind the ultimate bench. Christians must believe that objectivity is defined by what God says and does, not by us. So Smith throws down the Cartesian idol. But because he does not immediately turn to a word from the living God which is universally binding upon all men, in all their interpretive communities, he must allow another idol to quietly replace the disgraced Cartesian one.

Then we come to Lyotard. Against the common claim that Lyotard regarded all metanarratives with suspicion, Smith shows that Lyotard has a particular definition of metanarrative in mind. “What is at stake for Lyotard is not the scope of these narratives but the nature of the claims they make” (p. 64, emphasis added). In other words, we are talking, not about the subject matter of the story, but rather the way we tell them, and why we tell them. For example, Homer’s Odyssey “is not a metanarrative because it does not claim to legitimate itself by an appeal to a supposed universal, scientific reason; rather, it is a matter of proclamation, or kerygma, which demands the response of faith” (p. 65). Ah, the “response of faith,” but it is a response made in the fixed “given” of a pluralistic culture. More about this shortly.

“Narrative knowledge is grounded in the custom of a culture and, as such, does not require legitimation” (p. 66).

But this is only true if all the interpretive communities agree to keep their narratives to themselves, contained within their own culture. But narrative certainty does require legitimation if Christians do as they are told, and proclaim their narrative as universally binding. We were commanded to disciple the nations. We were told to command all men everywhere to repent, and this means that they are summoned by the kerygma to repent of a great deal of nonsense resident within their interpretive communities. Kerygmatic proclamation is speaking the authoritative word to an initially unwilling world. Kerygmatic proclamation is not a big phrase to make liberal preachers feel a little less guilty about their loss of faith — in the mouths of liberals and other kinds of unbelievers, kerygmatic is a smoke-screen word designed to cover the retreat.

To his credit, Smith recognizes the problem — “no one story can claim either universal auto-legitimation (because of the plurality of ‘the people’) nor appeal to a phantom universal reason” (p. 70). But he does not solve the problem. Because the central sin of man is the claim to autonomy, a challenge to autonomous reason which allows autonomous “other stuff” to remain is not a true challenge at all. It is a kerygmatic pulling of the punch.

But this is how Smith thinks he has solved the problem. Because postmodernism has dethroned Enlightenment reason as the arbiter of all stories, we are freed to tell our story. “As such, we no longer need to apologize for faith — we can be unapologetic in our kerygmatic proclamation of the gospel narrative” (p. 71). Yes, we are freed to tell our story alongside all the other stories — one particular story among others. But are we freed to tell our story as the real arbiter of all stories? Not a chance. That would present a challenge to pluralism, and might get a story-teller into trouble.

“We must be careful, however, not to continue to propagate that witness in modernist ways: by attempting our own rationalist demonstrations of the truth of Christian faith and then imposing such on a pluralist culture” (. 73).

How about if we skip the rationalist demonstration, and proceed straight to the imposition on a pluralist culture?

Smith likes the challenge to Descartes. “By calling into question the idea of an autonomous, objective, neutral rationality . . .” (p. 72). But the problem is that postmodernism calls into question the innocent noun, and leaves the sinful adjective (autonomous) completely alone. This means the central idolatry is untouched.

This book seeks to make Foucault serviceable to the Church by turning him upside down. “The critical point is that Foucault is absolutely right in his analysis of the way in which mechanisms of discipline serve to form individuals, but he is wrong to cast all such discipline and formation in a negative light” (p. 99).

Smith does object to affirmations of individual autonomy (p. 99), but he takes away with his right hand what he gave with his left. He wants Christians to submit to discipline voluntarily, as a legitimate private choice. He does not want discipline imposed on anyone. But this reveals a key deficiency in this project. Discipline that is constantly voluntary is not discipline at all. He likes the word “robust” but it is always robust within the voluntary system. “We confess knowledge without certainty, truth without objectivity” (p. 121). This makes sense because within the system you don’t have to answer the challenges that arise when you seek to disciple the nations. The kerygmatic proclamation thunders away behind the walls of our voluntarily-arranged interpretive community.

This is made explcit where Smith objects to Christians who end up “committed to ‘Constantinian’ strategies” (p. 28). It is here he gives the game away.

“To assert that our interpretation is not an interpretation but objectively true often translates into the worst kinds of imperial and colonial agendas, even within a pluralist culture” (p. 51).

In other words, if you are certain enough to act on others, in a way that could be interpreted as an imposition, then this is (in his eyes) a dead giveaway that you must be a Cartesian Constantinian.

Against all this kind of thinking, Peter Leithart offers a devastating judgment.

“On the contrary, opposition to Christendom arises from adherence to Christianity. Those who are hostile to Christendom are still in the grip of modernity. Renouncing Christianity thus entails embracing Christendom” (Leithart, Against Christianity, p. 124, emphasis mine).

Smith quotes Leithart approvingly (p. 29), but it is clear he has not followed his argument all the way out. Leithart “deconstructed” Christianity (as an abstract system of thought) in order to get to his last chapter — “For Constantine.” And this is how we should measure certainty. Are we certain enough of our interpretation to believe that it ought to be imposed? But one of the rock bottom commitments held by evangelical apologists for various forms of postmodernity is the commitment to societal pluralism. Smith clearly shares this, and this is why he is still, in the judgment of Leithart “still in the grip of modernity.” Not “affected by,” but “in the grip of.” This is a fair assessment.

All this said, it has to be confessed that the bumpersticker assessments of these gentlemen (Derrida, Lyotard, and Foucault) remains an accurate “bottom line” evaluation. Cash it out and count the change. What you have, at the end of the day, is a sustained postmodern commitment to individual autonomy, and its showcase, the pluralistic society. This necessitates relativism.

Postmodernity, and all its evangelical explainers and handlers, is therefore hypermodernity. The problem is not autonomous reason, the problem is the autonomous self. Moving the seat of that autonomy from the head to the gut, and from the gut to the gonads, is not what I would call dealing with the root issues. Rearranging the candles in front of the idol is not repentance.

Because evangelical explainers of postmodernity do not speak an authoritative word, binding on all men, they are not really confronting modernity at all. This is what I mean, and this point is a very important one. When they presuppose and defend our pluralistic society, the society within which postmodern emergent churches can thrive, presenting yet another choice for religious consumers, already glutted with choices, what are they presupposing? Modernity created and sustains the hyper-markets of the modern world, in which everything reduces to consumer choices for shoppers within the empire. Faith options are stocked on the shelves, right alongside the fifty-eight different kinds of shampoo. Postmodernity exults in how they arrange options there on the shelves. But modernity is the global superstore, and they make the rules for the store.

In this context, who makes the laws? All law is imposed morality. Which morality is it? What standards are being reflected in the laws, and in the necessary violence imposed in the name of those laws? We are told ad nauseam that we have now been ushered into the postmodern era. Really? So, what is the standard of law? These laws impose on people, and for creatures, this is the standard of certainty — not the amount of bombast a person might generate in a seminar room somewhere.

On the basis of our laws, we execute. We incarcerate. We fine. We seize property. We go to war. We decide to drop bombs or not. In the current set up, modernity makes all our laws, and so-called postmodern Christians have not really challenged modernity at all until they have challenged this. But to challenge the existing laws requires that you have an alternative, and if that alternative is not biblical, why do it? But if it is biblical, then you are some kind of theonomist, and an advocate of Christendom. This is why Leithart’s assessment of this is a bull’s eye. Those who want postmodernity in their discussion groups are just fooling around.

The Christian faith is a public faith. The Christian faith requires that all men everywhere abandon their idols in repentance and faith. The Christian faith requires Christendom. The Christian faith makes universal and binding claims. The Christian faith is genuinely robust. But the Christian faith has its modernist and hyper-modernist knock-offs, sects that believe their responsibility is to function within the structures (and strictures) created for them by modernity. And from this compromising accommodation with modernity, Smith (and the others like him) have not budged an inch.