Book Review: Philip Goodrich - A Theology of Money

Philip Goodchild, What is Wrong with the Global Financial System?

Published on Aug 18, 2014

Philip Goodrich discusses the power of money to subordinate all political aims and more. Since money is both a means of payment and a unit of account, the best way to achieve one's goals is to obtain money first. Thus, money posits itself as the universal, supreme value and the means of access to all other values.

"[Philip Goodchild] analyzes this myth in terms of four kinds of instabilities:physical,

conceptual, economic, and market. The physical instability is due to a conflict between

economy and ecology that will inevitably lead to catastrophe: 'We are consuming our

own collective body.'"

- David Congdon, review

Click here for Amazon Link to book

Read Introduction, part of Chapter 1, and Conclusion - 

http://www.amazon.com/Theology-Money-New-Slant-Religion/dp/0822344505

Book Review

Theology of Money, Philip Goodchild, Duke University Press, 2009(ISBN 978-0-8223-4450-6), xvi

+296 pp., pb $23.95

Philip Goodchild’s Theology of Money was prescient in its timing. It was first released in England in 2007 (SCM Press), followed by a US editionin 2009. The latter edition comes with a preface dated ‘February 2008’.What this means is that, while the book appeared in the midst of the recent financial crisis, it was written before that crisis was ever publicly known. This makes the book doubly remarkable – not only because of its many keen insights about the market and modern society, but also because of its particular relevance to the present situation.

First, however, a word of clarification regarding the title. Some will no doubt pick up this book expecting to find a ‘theological’ (as in [a] Christian systematic theology) reflection on the nature of money. One who does not know Goodchild’s work might expect the book to be an exercise in theological ethics or political theology, comparable with, say,M. Douglas Meek’s God the Economist

or Kathryn Tanner’s Economy of Grace. That person would likely be disappointed. Goodchild’s book is  not a Christian theological account of money; it is not faith’s treatment of money in light of christology or the doctrine of the trinity. One will not find any of the usual doctrinal loci in this book. Instead, Goodchild is attempting to offer the theology that accounts for the modern ‘religion of money’. If money is our god, then Goodchild seeks to articulate the theology that ‘explain[s] the distinctive nature of this spectral power in the modern world’ (p. 14). So while the book is a kind of ‘political theology of money’ (p. 25), words like ‘theology’ and ‘metaphysics’ refer to the being of money rather than the being of God in relation to money. There is no distinction here between theology and philosophy.

Even though students of Christian theology might be disappointed (due to the non-standard use of the word ‘theology’), that does not mean in the least that they should be disappointed. On the contrary, there is much in Theology of Money that demands a wide audience. In order to understand the book’s significance, it is necessary to first gain clarity about its purpose. From the ‘US Edition’ preface: ‘The aim is to show what devotions, sacrifices, and convictions lie at the basis of contemporary existence, and to call for a new effort of devotion, sacrifice, and conviction that may evoke another social order’ (p. xvi). Money is part of the essential fabric of modern existence, according to Goodchild. It is impossible to isolate a purely ‘economic’ realm without touching on matters of political agency, ecology, anthropology, and moral theology. The future of money is, in an important sense, the future of society itself.

After an opening chapter on power – in which he argues that ‘money is the political body par excellence’ (p. 39) – Goodchild launches into an assault on the myths of modernity in his second chapter. ‘Modernity has always been a utopian myth’, he begins (p.43). He analyzes this myth in terms of four kinds of instabilities: physical, conceptual, economic, and market. The physical instabilityis due to a conflict between economy and ecology that will inevitably lead to catastrophe: ‘We are consuming our own collective body’(p. 47). Goodchild makes the point that any economic analysis that only focuses on human labor without accounting for the physical resources upon which such labor depends is ‘deficient’ (p. 49). Conceptually, modernity is built upon abstract concepts, such as‘democracy’ and ‘freedom’, which are intrinsically aporetic and self-contradictory, and thus open to propagandistic manipulation. In the case of democracy, the only way to resolve its internal conflicts is to‘appeal to passions and immediate interests’, which explains why modern democracy has become a corporate oligarchy, because ‘the creation of wealth alone has universal appeal to immediate interests’(p. 51). Because of these and other instabilities, the myth of modernity is sustained by a ‘utopian faith’; it depends on ‘nothing less than a secular theology’ (pp. 53–4). But this faith cannot last. Goodchild concludes this chapter with some dire statements about the coming economic collapse and modernity’s imminent end. His claim is that a new social order will not come from taking a principled stand in absolute opposition to contemporary credit capitalism, as that merely reinstates the same modern myths of individual autonomy and sovereign power. Progress will come ‘only from passing through the internal logic of the political body of money, appropriating its soul and distinctive power while subordinating it to newly created ends’ (p. 69). This is precisely what he sets out to do in the rest of the book.

Part Two of Theology of Money (‘A Treatise on Money’) is the heart of the book and is composed of three chapters on the ecology, politics, and theology of money. By ‘ecology’, Goodchild means the whole process of economic production, the network of relations involved in the ‘accu-mulation, invention, and assembly’ of capital (p. 73). This ecology refersalso to the earth’s ecological systems, in that ‘economy and ecology are mathematically incompatible’ (p. 81). Primarily, although, this chapterdetails the complex web of relations established by the global capitalisteconomy, driven as it is by promise and desire. He concludes by notingthe paradox that the freedom established by capitalism ‘offers very littleeffective freedom’ (p. 120). The following chapter on the politics of money extends this critical analysis of money to the institution of themarket. This includes problems of distribution, wealth accumulation,and class differences. Goodchild levels some of his most trenchantcriticisms against capitalism in this section. He calls the market ‘adespotic social institution founded on violence’, one that ‘proclaims atotal and universal war’ (p. 128). Money has a spiritual power, one thatappeals to those who benefit from it. For this reason, the only way totransform the injustices of the market is by ‘a stronger spiritual power’(p. 129).

The third chapter within the ‘Treatise on Money’ turns towards Goodchild’s constructive argument for how to reform the modern capitalist economy. While this chapter claims to be a ‘theology of money’, what he addresses under this title is the question of money’s value; theology refers to the evaluation of money, and thus to the complete ‘revaluation of value’ itself. Goodchild develops this argument through an assessment of the ‘morals’ of accounting. In contrast to the ‘culture of individualism, of threat, and of righteous revenge’ that is a constitutive feature of modern economic practices (p. 180), he argues for a change to the practices of accounting that would give rise to a new culture. Accounting is a means of directing one’s attention. A new ethics of accounting would direct attention to what truly matters; it would involve recognizing that value is external to the ecology of money and market forces. A ‘new kind of value’ would be able to assess the production of capital in new ways (p. 185).

The final section of the book (‘Of Theology’) develops the constructive proposal. He begins with a dense reflection on metaphysics and ontology, arguing that the current financial system is marked by a‘metaphysical failure’ and that economic reform can only arise through a new political theology with an alternative metaphysics (p. 214). His basic point is that money and God both compete for the same meta-physical territory today: both claim to be the ‘source of the value of values’ (p. 218), and thus both are ‘competing sources of credit’(p. 211). This leads to his ‘modest proposal’ for economic reform. In the present system, evaluation is subordinate to the desire for profit, because profit alone is able to command a general consensus. Goodchild proposes developing ‘a secondary tier of the economy concerned solely with the production and distribution of effective evaluations’ (p.243). In this way, investment and the production of credit would be subordinate to evaluation. Credit would flow to what is valuable, rather than value being attributed to what is profitable. He identifies several problems that have to be addressed. For example, how will these ‘banks of evaluative credit’ be funded?

Despite the obstacles, Goodchild is to be commended for writing a political theology that makes a robust, concrete, and theoretically viable proposal for how to implement actual economic reform. Unlike most political theologies, this work is neither utopian nor separatist: it is not limited to a future eschatological kingdom, nor is it limited to the community of faith. He provides a way of reforming the global capitalist economy from within capitalism. Put differently, he has sketched a way to bring the alternative evaluation of socialism into the present economic system. One can only hope that this work will gain a wide and interdisciplinary – not to mention also non-academic reading.

David W. Congdon

Princeton Theological Seminary

Book Review

CLAYTON CROCKETT

University of Central Arkansas

MONEY AND CREDIT, THEOLOGICALLY SPEAKING

http://www.jcrt.org/archives/09.3/crockett.pdf

Review of Philip Goodchild, Theology of Money.

SCM Press, 2007. 271 pp. ISBN 978-0-334- 04142-9

(American edition forthcoming from Duke University Press)

Philip Goodchild is the most constructive and original philosopher of religion in the UK, and his Theology of Money succeeds and builds upon the themes opened up by his important book Capitalism and Religion: The Price of Piety (2002). In this extraordinary new work, Goodchild offers a sustained analysis and critique of how money functions as the value of value, and how it determines our metaphysics, our ethics, our politics, our economics and our theology. Money is directly theological insofar as “money replaces God as the metaphysical source of truth, value and power” in the modern world (221).

What Goodchild offers is both a critique of money and a theology of money, and part of what makes this book so fascinating is the significance of calling what he is doing here a theology of money as opposed to simply a critique of money. At the beginning of the book, in the Introduction, Goodchild elaborates Jesus’s attack on money, and states that “theology can have no neutrality here” (3). This framing may suggest that Goodchild is offering us a theological critique of money by opposing a bad contemporary theology of money that functions implicitly and insidiously, with a Christian theology that offers the only true alternative to the supreme value of money. And this reading would be wrong, because Goodchild exposes and critiques a political theology of money, in order to offer an alternative theology of credit that does not look to restore traditional theology or metaphysics.

This does not become entirely clear until the end of the book, but the crux of Goodchild’s argument is to distinguish and separate credit from money, in order to construct a more effective theology. He claims that “theology consists in the ordering of time, attention and devotion” in a broad sense rather than the determinate faith in Jesus Christ or any other particular religious tradition (261- 62). Goodchild argues that in order to oppose the pervasive injustice of money, “the divorce between the secular and the religious, between attending to treasure on earth and attending to treasure in heaven, must be overcome” (243). Theology concerns treasure and wealth, and this is an uncommonly rich book, because Goodchild strains to provide alternative measures of accounting and accreditation from the ones that overwhelm our deeds and our thought.

Goodchild opposes credit and capital to profit and exchange, and argues that we need strategies and institutions to help us evaluate credit and resist the compulsion to value time and attention solely in terms of money. In the Introduction, Goodchild claims that “money exercises a spectral power that exceeds all merely human power” because it creates and shapes desire (12).

In Part 1, “Of Politics,” he suggests that money is a kind of dispersed sovereignty which wields supreme political power in the modern world.

Part 2 is “A Treatise on Money,” which successively lays out an ecology of money, a politics of money, and finally a theology of money. In many respects, the ecology of money is the most illuminating and insightful, because Goodchild delineates the material basis of life and value in terms of energy and nutrition, time and capital.

Finally, Part 3, “Of Theology,” deals directly with credit, and proposes an alternative metaphysics and theology of credit to our current theology and metaphysics of money, and includes a striking reading of Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice.

The last chapter sketches out a proposal for institutional reform, a bank of evaluative credit that would regulate “the production and distribution of effective evaluations” (246). This evaluative economy would constitute a secondary tier to the existing economy, and it would function distinctly in a separate but related realm to the broader monetary economy. I do not have the evaluative expertise to say whether or not such a proposal would work or would work well, but I do think that we urgently need to experiment with alternative ways to distribute and evaluate capital and credit.

Ultimately evaluative credits provide a different way to measure and evaluate capital. Capital, according to Goodchild, “is the means of production that has itself been produced” (77). Capital is negentropic, and it is the source of all wealth. The problem is that money has exchange value only measures rates of profit. Capitalism is “the social system in which capital is measured as an accumulative quantity in terms of exchange value,” and it is more profitable in the short term to consume the means of production of capital itself than to preserve them for the production of future capital (84). The primary value of capitalism is money, because everything can be expressed in terms of exchange value, as a commodity. Money as credit is created as a debt, but debt must be calculated and repaid at usurious rates of interest that ultimately comes at the cost of human life and liberty, flesh and blood (228-29). Capital and credit must be liberated from their capture in systems of exchange and debt, which is what redemption is all about, if it is possible. Redemption, as Goodchild claims at the conclusion of his book, depends upon the creation of new value.

Goodchild’s emphasis upon the overwhelming significance of money to create and sustain value seems both correct and over-stated. That is, given the prevalence and predominance of our theology of money and its sovereignty, it seems impossible to offer any alternative vision or value unless this value is limited in some respect. So Goodchild’s case appears to totalize the ubiquity of money and its effects. I would tentatively suggest a competing value, something like glory, which is not an oppositional value but one that often works in coordination with money. Glory appeals to the surplus of value above and beyond exchange value, the desire for fame and power that is not immediately or directly connected to money’s intermediary capacity. This is a difficult issue, because of course glory and money reinforce each other, but I would argue that there is a distinction, and that glory provides the most significant alternative value for contemporary human beings, although I agree with Goodchild that money is the over-arching force and value.

In some ways Goodchild’s reading of Merchant of Venice and his argument that money veils flesh and blood provides evidence for my counter-claim. The value that we ascribe to the flesh is economic as well as aneconomic. Flesh offers a sensuality, a romantic and political form of life that Michel Foucault and Giorgio Agamben call bio-political, and I think that bio-politics is not divorced from a monetary economy and its sovereignty, but works in conjunction with it. I just think that flesh or life possesses an aspect of glory that cannot be reduced to or conflated with money’s role in establishing a universal value. One way to phrase this understanding, using Deleuze’s terms, would be to suggest that glory (as flesh or as life or as power) deterritorializes the world, opening it up to a reterritorialization of and by money. Or, we could say that glory is the halo of money, its shining which allows it to appear as other than money, which is closer to Goodchild’s own analysis. At the same time, glory offers a competing value and allows for an evaluation of money otherwise than simply on its own terms.

In terms of contemporary capitalism, money works because it is a form of capital as well as a means of exchange. Money as credit is lent to create money in the form of debt, and these loans allow for capital are tied to the ability of money to replace and represent things that then become commodities. What is easily missed is the fact, as Goodchild notes, that money and capital are grounded in physical, material and organic processes, including the excavation and exploitation of cheap energy via fossil fuels.

These two processes, the financial and energetic, allow for the incredible production of goods and material enrichment of human existence, at least in rich countries, over the last two centuries. Unfortunately, we are now experiencing the collapse of the largest financial bubble ever created, and the ongoing credit crunch is destroying money faster than it can be created in a process of global deflation of value. At the same time, world oil production is peaking (51), making energy more expensive and scarce, which increases commodity prices and prevents the creation of a new investment bubble, such as the investment in the development of alternative energies that is urgently needed. These two trends occur against the background of global warming, or the accelerating of global climate change and the straining of the earth’s resources caused by human over-population and over-production.

Goodchild offers an understanding of this situation that articulates what is most important about it, including its theological significance. He appreciates that it is not simply the critique and re-circulation of ideas but the production of value that is theological, because it allows for the re-ordering of time, attention and devotion. Furthermore, Goodchild understands that there is no real change possible without institutional reform, that evaluative credit can only work if there are institutions to support and foster the generation of evaluative credit.

Theology appears to offer only two alternatives to our current situation, in contrast to the accommodation to predominance of money which is liberal or neo-liberal. On the one hand, fundamentalism provides an apocalyptic resignation by affirming the catastrophic state of affairs but then offers itself up to an incredible fairy-tale god who will punish the wicked and save the righteous. On the other hand, genuine conservative and neo-orthodox theologies offer counter-values based upon Abrahamic, biblical and/or medieval (nonmodern) values to oppose modernity and its political theology of money. Goodchild’s Theology of Money, however, sketches a radical theological vision of credit that promises the potential for a future theology as well as a future humanity. He admits that he does not fully develop a metaphysics of credit in this book, but he provides vital resources of thought and capital for theological and practical human beings to put to work.

CLAYTON CROCKETT is Associate Professor and Director of Religious Studies at the University of Central Arkansas, as well as an Editor of JCRT. He is a co-editor, along with Slavoj Zizek, Creston Davis and Jeffrey W. Robbins, of the book series "Insurrections: Critical Studies in Religion, Politics and Culture," published by Columbia University Press. He is currently working on a book on radical political theology.

© Clayton Crockett. All rights reserved. Crockett, Clayton. “Money and Credit, Theologically Speaking,” in Journal for Cultural and Religious Theory vol. 9 no. 3 (Fall 2008): 7-10.

Book Review - John Caputo, "Hoping Against Hope"

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Amazon Book Description

John D. Caputo has a long career as one of the preeminent postmodern philosophers in America. The author of such books as Radical Hermeneutics, The Prayers and Tears of Jacques Derrida, and The Weakness of God, Caputo now reflects on his spiritual journey from a Catholic altar boy in 1950s Philadelphia to a philosopher after the death of God. Part spiritual autobiography, part homily on what he calls the "nihilism of grace," Hoping Against Hope calls believers and nonbelievers alike to participate in the "praxis of the kingdom of God," which Caputo says we must pursue "without why."

Caputo's conversation partners in this volume include Lyotard, Derrida, and Hegel, but also earlier versions of himself: Jackie, a young altar boy, and Brother Paul, a novice in a religious order. Caputo traces his own journey from faith through skepticism to hope, after the "death of God." In the end, Caputo doesn't want to do away with religion; he wants to redeem religion and to reinvent religion for a postmodern time.

Amazon Book Reviews

Most helpful positive review

By Phil on October 21, 2015

In a market saturated by religious books that try to avoid the difficult and complex questions of life and faith, John D. Caputo's book is a breath of fresh air. He writes from the heart, and dares to ask questions about God and faith that so many of us have yet aren't sure we are allowed to ask. He's honest about the fact that we frequently live our lives somewhere between belief and doubt. This book takes religion in a new direction altogether. Caputo doesn't seem to think it possible or wise to give superficial answers to complex questions, and he goes against the grain by not trying to settle the debate once and for all regarding the existence of God. What he does, however, is write with a passionate sense of hoping, sighing, dreaming and longing that in so many ways marks the human condition, whether we believe in God or not. In that sense, believers, skeptics, inquirers, agnostics and even atheists will find great resonance in this book. I can't recommend it enough.

Most helpful critical review

By Amazon Customer on November 1, 2015

Hoping Against Hope is a book that I really enjoyed reading despite disagreeing with the author's conclusions. Caputo is a wonderful writer and has a deep understanding of the history of philosophy which he uses to masterfully craft short vignettes as he interacts with himself and the great western philosophers. It is this interaction with his younger self and philosophers which I particularly enjoyed. In fact, at times I found myself not wanting to allow myself to think about where he was going but couldn't help but read on due to the pure delight I experienced in his interaction with philosophy. It was not unlike watching a horror movie in which you have become deeply involved with the plot and yet experience a sense of dread as you realize exactly where it is leading.

The basic premise of Hoping Against Hope is that it doesn't matter so much if God exists... we ought to live as if he does. Not because we are duty bound to honor him as God, but simply because the themes of the kingdom (mercy, forgiveness, etc) are worthy pursuits of which no one can bring a charge against. Consider the following,

"if the unconditional does not exist, and if the name of God is the name of something unconditional, then God does not exist -- just in virtue of the unconditional purity of the gift, of forgiveness, of everything unconditional . . ." - JC

This is what Caputo refers to as the "nihilism of grace" and is a central theme in Hoping Against Hope. To live this way . . . to live a life of compassion, mercy and forgiveness is only rightfully lived (according to Caputo) without why. To live without why is to live a virtuous life divorced from the virtue's relation to God. An act of compassion is only truly compassionate if it is done simply for the sake of compassion and not under the auspice of God's favor or displeasure.

I understand what Caputo is getting at and in part agree with him. Mercy is only merciful when it is enacted for the sake of another and not when motivated by fear of God or an alternative motive of gaining favor with God. This is certainly true. But I think Caputo is too quick to dismiss that we often times do the right thing not to find favor with God, but simply because we desire to please him as a child desires to please his mother or father. In other words, our good works are acts of worship (not merit) that we do out of gratitude toward God. Furthermore, Caputo seems to dismiss (or at least neglects to address) the idea that the only possible way that sinful man can possess true virtue is by the grace of God. Our compassion, our forgiveness, and our mercy all have their origin in God. They are foreign and not naturally born properties within the heart of man.

Overall I really enjoyed Hoping against Hope. I found Caputo easy to read and sincere. However, as a theology, it fails to answer the deeper questions of why we do what we do. Simply doing them without why sounds good enough, but upon reflection, is inadequate to tame the sinful heart of man.

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A joyful affirmation contra New Atheists and Long Robes alike

By David W. on October 31, 2015

Does God exist? Is there a heaven beyond the skies? Does religion offer an escape hatch from the temporality and finitude of human existence? To these Big Questions, John Caputo offers answers that are emphatically, if not dogmatically, in the negative. Nevertheless, Caputo's philosophically textured and deeply personal memoir, Hoping Against Hope, in which he presents a radically unorthodox interpretation of the Christian (Roman Catholic) tradition that formed him, is no amicus brief on behalf of the warrior atheists in their case against God and religion. Caputo has always been and remains convinced that the question of God is, in the words of Paul Tillich, a matter of ultimate concern. Moreover, he does not simply equate religion with superstition, but rather sees it as a "form of life", a way of being-in-the world, without which, despite its dubious history, the world would be a less hopeful place.

On the surface, Caputo's idea of God, which will not be entirely new to those familiar with his ongoing work in hermeneutical-deconstructive philosophy and so-called “radical theology”, appears to be purely and simply atheistic. He rejects out of hand any notion of God as a Supreme Being, Eternal Father, Unmoved First Mover, Ultimate Ground, or the like. Does God exist? Caputo says no, and as far as that goes, Caputo agrees with the New Atheists. Yet where Atheism (with a big A) new and old ends, Caputo’s postmodern religious project is just getting started. “God does not exist,” Caputo asserts, then, with a greater insistence, in the same breath, affirms, “God insists.” The complex and difficult notion of God’s spectral yet compelling “insistence”, as opposed to metaphysical existence, is the subject of Caputo’s longer and more densely philosophical study, The Insistence of God: A Theology of Perhaps, and is not developed in Hoping Against Hope. Instead, Caputo focuses our attention on a subtle and evocative concept drawn from the work of the French deconstructionist Jacques Derrida: the unconditional.

The unconditional signifies for Caputo an affirmation of life and the world without strings attached, a gift given, received, and enjoyed outside the economies of exchange. In theological terms, the unconditional is God emptying himself into the world and disappearing without remainder, and without expectation of thanks, much less worship. Caputo acknowledges that the theology of the unconditional will cause pious brows to furrow, a furrowing in which he clearly takes an impish delight. Yet those “long robes”, as Caputo calls the guardians of orthodoxy, are not his primary audience. Caputo writes for those of us who are willing to put our piety at risk, who still care deeply about God and “his” future, and yet might find it difficult to fully embrace the notion of a God as mortal as the world into which “he” has vanished.

C. S. Lewis would be aghast, but I’m tempted to call John D. Caputo a “joyful Christian”. To be sure, Caputo’s is a joy more Nietzschean than “properly” Christian, yet one cannot read Hoping Against Hope without becoming infected by Jack Caputo’s joy of life, a joy that is surely not unlike the joy of the one whom Caputo calls, with deep affection, Yeshua the Earthman.

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Hoping Against Hope Review

By Amazon Customer on October 31, 2015

SUMMARY

In Hoping Against Hope, John D. Caputo shares his spiritual journey which began early on in his youth and simultaneously puts forth what he calls a “religion without religion,” or the “religion of the rose.”

He begins by explaining that based upon the scientific evidence of the continuous expansion of the sun, the world will literally end. He calls this “inhuman”, because all people will literally be no more, along with their stories and their thought. He admits that as a young boy and later, as “Brother Paul,” -- another name he’s given himself from a previous stage in his life in which he was committed to Catholicism – he would have readily pointed to religion to find comfort in this coming doom. However, he points out that much of what is going on in religion, or what he likes to call “in the name of God,” is full of ugliness and hatred that don’t seem to offer a sense of hope in the face of a looming “nihilism.”

All of this is what leads to his venture into arguing for a religionless religion, which includes his main ideas of the religion of the rose, the nihilism of grace, living without why, and the pure gift. Each of these ideas feed into the other and are tightly woven together. The religion of the rose is that it blooms simply because it blooms. Of course there are many biological factors that cause its blooming, but ultimately, the rose is not blooming for any reason. It is simply being a rose. Therefore, Caputo sees the rose an example for us, as it “lives without why,” selflessly and essentially, purposelessly. This is the perfect example of his “nihilism of grace,” which he says to think of “as depending on the power of nothingness, something that is because it is, nothing more, without why” (p. 44). The rose and the way it simply exists gives way to Caputo’s idea that ultimately, God does not exist, rather He “insists.” As he explains in great detail, if God first exists and demands our allegiance to Him, all of His gifts are no longer pure, and neither are ours, because He gave to us in order to indebt us to Himself, and we give gifts and do good works in order to secure our own heavenly rewards (which brings up another concept in the book, the economy of salvation). If a gift is known at all, then it is no longer pure, no longer grace. Therefore, God does not exist, rather He insists, and we, humans, give God existence with our good works. In fact, Caputo even says that our good works are the kingdom of God; that our “pure gifts” to the world which we do without why are the existence of God in the world themselves.

Fundamentally, this book is Caputo’s offer of a hope that is not in Jesus Christ or in any other god or super being coming to save us from the eventual destruction of this world, but that hopes that this indeed is not the case; that the Day of Judgment is not what we believe it to be, because hoping in Christ’s return to save us into eternity with Him would mean that those who do not hope in Him would be doomed for eternity. The only thing to do, then, is to live without why, bringing God to life with our pure gifts of grace, and embracing the world as it is, chaotic and perishable.

REVIEW

John D. Caputo is an extraordinary writer. His eloquence and witty humor make Hoping Against Hope a challenging yet fun and engaging read. He makes excellent points, for example, about the danger of the “economy of salvation”; that many do good works only to inherit eternal life, ultimately for selfish gain, or even out of pure obligation without love. He is clearly an intelligent man with extensive knowledge in many areas. However, Caputo lacks a few beliefs that are fundamental to Christianity, which steer most of his concepts in the wrong direction.

First, he doesn’t believe that there is one objective Truth, and therefore does not believe that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life (John 14:16). On page 98, he writes, “I do not think that there is an underlying, universal, cross-cultural religious truth that can finally be unearthed with enough empirical digging into the different traditions. The only universal I embrace is the universality of difference.” On page 99 he goes further to say, “I imagine a meeting of Jesus and the Buddha, in which each bows before the other, each confessing what he has to learn from the other…” This is clearly in stark opposition to God’s commandments to have no other gods beside Him (Exodus 20:3) and to love Him above all else (Matthew 22:37-38).

This leads me to another core problem with Caputo’s theology: he doesn’t believe that God is who He’s revealed Himself to be throughout the Scriptures, nor who God reveals us humans to be in the Scriptures either. This is a seam that can be traced all through the book. On page 62, he speaks of the work of Mother Teresa and writes, “Her work stood, with or without God; her work stood, without why. Her work was the work of God, which is what the rabbis mean when they speak of loving the Torah more than God.” With such a statement and concept, Caputo has either forgotten or disagrees with Scripture – and therefore with God – that we are sinful and incapable of doing any truly good thing without the help of God Himself. We have no good nor any value in and of ourselves. On page 82, he explains his agreement with Meister Eckhart and writes, “Eckhart went so far as to say that God needs human beings in order to be God. This is the mystical predecessor of what I am calling the ‘insistence of God,’ where God needs us to be provided with existence…the world is the place where God gets to be God.” This statement sums up clearly enough that he believes that God needs us. Again, this is exactly the opposite of what the Bible teaches. God doesn’t need us at all, not only because we’re fallen, imperfect people, but also because He is perfect, and not to mention – Creator. He created us; we’re His creations. Yet He needs us?

This takes me to my final main finding in the cracks in Caputo’s concepts, and it’s a bit of a two and one: I believe it’s safe to say that Caputo neither believes in the Scriptures as the infallible Word of God, nor the final and ultimate authority concerning Truth, which makes me wonder: is he a Christian at all?

Don’t get me wrong; Caputo is, as I said, a wonderful writer, incredibly intelligent, and he makes many good points. The issue I found is that his good points veer off into a direction that I, as a devout believer and follower of Jesus Christ, would say work in opposition to what we find in Scripture. All in all, I would say that this book is an excellent read in terms of eloquence, entertainment, and even for the challenging of one’s mind and faith. However, I strongly question to what extent, if to any extent at all, he writes from a Christian perspective.

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A confusing, unorthodox approach to God

By Joe W. on October 31, 2015

I don't think I can rightly claim to be a philosopher in any sense of the word. As such, I tend to find works of philosophy more difficult to digest, and this work is no exception. If a work is to be graded on its ability to be read and understood, I would have to give this book a "D" at best. The flipping back and forth between personalities and having two entities with the same name (one the child version of the author, the other a French philosopher) added to the confusion as I read through this book.

While I may be able to agree to some extent with the author that much done in the name of Christ is not truly done according to the will of Christ, his talk of reclaiming or reinventing religion paints a picture that does not match what I know of who Christ is. I suppose that should not be surprising because it appears that the author has reached a point to where he denies the existence of the God of the Bible (in doing a little bit of research, the author supports what is called "weak theology," one of the outpourings being the denial of God as a being who can and will intervene in the events of the universe).

The author most definitely does not fit the picture of orthodoxy, denying special creation as recorded in Genesis and seeing homosexuality as acceptable. Whether intentional or not, he also gave me the impression of declaring all religions as equally valid (again, the lack of clarity in writing did me no favors in understanding his point). His disparaging of the orthodox understanding of Christ was disturbing; instead, he references a few isolated instances in Scripture that, taken by themselves, give a distorted view of who Jesus is, camping on His love while ignoring His justice.

All in all, I cannot rightly recommend this book.

Note: I received this book through Cross Focused Reviews in exchange for my honest appraisal

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PostHope Hope

By James R. V. Matichuk on October 31, 2015

Can Hope survive with the collapse of epistemology certainty? Is God necessarily existent for spiritual experience? Can the nihilism of our age open us up to the possibility of grace? Phenomenologist and deconstructionist John D. Caputo wrestles with these questions and more in his intellectual memoir, Hoping Against Hope (Confessions of a Postmodern Pilgrim). The book is a spiritual autobiography of sorts, but it only reveals the broad contours of Caputo's life, focusing on the development (or deconstruction?) of his thoughts on God, faith and certainty.

Caputo was raised in a devout Catholic family. He spent four years as a De LaSalle monk, before his illustrious career as a philosopher and theologians (thirty-six years as professor of Philosophy at Villanova University and professor of philosophy of religion at Syracuse University for seven years). In Hoping Against Hope he gives voice and personality to these various stages of his intellectual development. As a child Caputo was an altar boy in pre-Vatican II Catholicism who had memorized the Baltimore Catechism. Caputo refers to this younger self as "Jackie." "Brother Paul," is the monk Caputo who grew callouses on his knees in an attempt to learn prayer and had a love for the mystics. The professor, "John D.," is the the philosopher who's tongue was loosed by Jacques Derrida (the other Jackie) and the French Postmodernists.

Caputo writes:

"My life as a philosopher has taken place in the distance between theology and philosophy. Like everyone else, however far forward I thought I moved, I was always circling around my origins. I soon found that the audacity of the philosophers who "dare to think" according to the Enlightenment motto, fails them when it comes to theology. There they panic, in fear of contamination. They treat the name of God like a terrible computer virus that will corrupt all their files, or like a real one, like the Ebola virus, where the odds of recovering are against you. So, mostly at the beginning of my professional life, when "John D." stepped forth and responded to the title "professor," while telling Jackie to stay at home, I was worried that they would say, "This is not philosophy, this is just his religion." But my religion is between me and Brother Paul and Jackie and several others. How can they know anything about that? (104-105)."

With the Continental Philosophers, Heidigger, Derrida, Lacan, Lyotoard, Levinas, and others, Caputo thoroughly rejects the narrative of the Christian tradition and the official line of the Roman Catholic church. He dismantles dogma, expresses his antagonism toward the afterlife and a God that is either ' the Prime Punisher and the Royal Rewarder (64). He also regards the arguement between atheism and theism to be wrong-headed. With a Zen-Koan-like-air he proclaims, "God does not exist. God insists" (114). He gives fresh and unique interpretations of scripture and imagines the textual variants he wishes to one day uncover. Caputo's thoughts run far a field from classic Christian orthodoxy.

But his project isn't wholly negative. Caputo upholds active service to the poor and marginalized and the non-religious religion of love. He says his idea of nihilism is stolen from the mystics and he employs insights from Miester Eckhardt and Marguerite Porete (both mystics ran a foul from official church teaching). What Caputo proposes is a religion of the Rose--"The rose is without why; it blossoms because it blossoms; It cares not for itself, asks not if it's seen" (27). He brings this verse from Angelus Silesius into conversation with Lyotard's religion of the smile and posits a nihilism where all of life is received as a gift (with or without a giver), where all of life is received without condition (181).

As an intellectual memoir/spiritual autobiography I give this three stars and thought it was an interesting read. I especially loved the 'short nocturnal dialogue' where Caputo imagines a dialogue with himself at his different stages of faith and intellectual development. I appreciate how Caputo's postmodernity leads him to pluralism and relativism without the need to posit an underlying universal faith in God. However, I am unconvinced by Caputo's theological vision and see his radical (or weakness) theology as incompatible with the Christian gospel of grace. I was aware of Caputo before reading this book, so wasn't particularly surprised by what he says here. I have read him before and have seen him lecture. I find him fascinating. I also find it ironic that I received this book from Cross Focused Reviews. If Caputo mentions the cross at all (and I don't remember that he does in this book), it is clearly not his focus. Anyway, I received this book in exchange for my honest review.

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The God of love should keep an infinite distance from the economy of salvation

By Matthew Hisrich on October 26, 2015

I cannot overstate the profound impact Jack Caputo's writing has had upon my faith and my life. His earlier "Insistence of God" helped provide me with the language to articulate in a big picture sense of a God of insistence rather than existence, and a theology centered on the possibility of the event. With Hoping Against Hope he has done this for me once again, this time particularly regarding heaven and its implications for life here on Earth. His description of the beauty and value of life not based on the economy of heaven is beautiful and moving. I highly recommend this book for fans of Caputo and others interested in wrestling with orthodox Christian understanding.

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Touching and Personal- A great read. One of Caputo's best!

By Joseph Candito on October 21, 2015

For those readers who are familiar with Jack’s work in The Weakness of God and The Insistence of God, this is a deceptively simple book. Maybe because the Professor had to share the stage with young Jackie and Brother Paul. I found this a touching and personal read. There is a circumfession here. Even if it is subtle. I am not a philosopher and have no training as such. This book gives life to many things Jack has written in other places. If you are looking for a confirmation of eternal security, you are not going to find it in these pages. Living without why (The Theology of the Rose) can be risky business. In Professor’s own words, “The name of God is the name of a way to be, a way of living in the world, where things are a lot risker than we all thought. Life’s a beautiful risk”. To which a young Jackie adds, “And a frightening one.”

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I enjoyed the musings, the interaction with thinkers, and the illustrations.

By James B. Pate on October 21, 2015

John D. Caputo is a philosopher, a theologian, and an author. Hope Against Hope contains some of his musings about religion. Caputo dialogues with different aspects of himself: Jackie, who was Caputo as a child; Brother Paul, who was involved in a religious order; and Caputo as an academic. Caputo also interacts with a variety of thinkers: Meister Eckhart, Marguerite Porete, Martin Heidegger, Paul Tillich, Jacques Derrida, and others.

Caputo expresses a number of views that would probably be controversial among evangelicals. For example, Caputo expresses doubt about (maybe even disbelief in) eternal torment in hell, and perhaps even the afterlife, for that matter. This is surprising to me, since I received a review copy of this book through Cross Focused Reviews, which strikes me as conservative Christian.

Overall, I enjoyed this book. It has a musing quality to it, and I appreciated that Caputo wove different thinkers into the discussion, while sharing his own faith journey. Caputo also has a sense of humor, and I laughed out loud at some of his wry reflections.

I did not find some of his main points to be particularly new. For example, Caputo essentially says that God has no hands but our hands, and no feet but our feet. It was not entirely clear if Caputo even believes that God exists, for, on the one hand, Caputo seems to suggest that God makes Godself aloof to give us choice and the opportunity to act, yet, on the other hand, Caputo addresses the question of why we should even pray when we are unsure if someone is really listening. Still, for Caputo, we, through our actions, make God present.

While I was not particularly floored by Caputo’s main point, I did enjoy some of his illustrations: the priest who had doubts about God yet remained a priest because he was helping people; how Martha may have been serving because she was spiritually secure and did not need to sit at Jesus’ feet listening (the text is Luke 10:38-42); how hope is not allowing past negative experiences to get one down (Caputo said this in discussing whether artificial intelligence could ever have hope); that Derrida, an atheist, was a man of prayer; and how the Bible is a book of suggestions that paints a picture of what life under God’s rule could be like.

Caputo discusses other issues, such as inter-religious dialogue and the question of whether we have the religion that we have on account of where we were born. Caputo believes that different cultures may have received their own revelations, and that we should celebrate differences. Caputo’s approach is rather post-modern.

Some parts of the book resonated with me, and some parts did not so much, but I found that being in a critiquing (or heresy-hunting) mode was not the best way for me to read and appreciate this book. A poet on a movie that I recently watched told a friend that she should not worry whether she understands the poetry or not, but should simply let it wash over her. That was how I approached Caputo’s musings.

I received a complimentary review copy of this book through Cross Focused Reviews, in exchange for an honest review.

Foundations for a Radical Theology, Part 8 - A Radical Re-Examination of the Christian Faith

Radical Theology is a philosophical conversation without biblical input to its conservation except for its existential contributions of cultural belief sets drawn from past and present religious communities. What this means is that radical theology is ideally an neutral (not atheistic) conversation of all things religious, irreligious, and all points in between.

For the Christian believer this would present an immediate conundrum and one not easily sorted out and yet, if considered as an hermeneutical tool, may present to the Christian the possibility of examining the underpinnings of the church's faith while attempting to launch a post-Christian, post-secular, (post)post-modern conversation with society at large. One that is very much needed in this day and age of religious argument and cultural wars.

The value then for Christian theology might be found in the opportunity to re-examine the church's hermeneutical belief set lately based upon Western Analytic thought since the age of Enlightenment through a combination of Continental Philosophical thought utilizing radical theology's newer development as an existential / phenomenological dissecting tool to re-right Christian hermeneutic thought and convention back into contemporary conversation with society once again.

Alone, present day church culture has gone along its own (secular) trajectories that have not seemed very "biblical" but more "culturally ingrained" and as such, have departed from the "biblical traditions" of the bible to its own re-interpretation of them. However, through continental philosophy and radical theology a return to a biblical hermeneutic laced with possibility and expanded thought might be discovered again. And in the finding re-discover the Person and Work of God in His missional outreach to today's turbulent societies.

Admittedly, using radical theology as an hermeneutical tool may seem incongruous with the overall attempt of examining God's Will and Word through the bible. However, it is through this dispassionate tool set that the possibility of hearing God's testimony again with new ears and new hearts may be reached. How? By breaking down the non-essentials of one's faith and casting these into the fires of darkness so that categories like doubt and uncertainty might be allowed to live in the hearts of the broken to rediscover Jesus' salvific work afresh.

Nor should radical theology be considered simply an atheistic study but rather a non-religious study (or, an a/religious study) that will challenge Christian beliefs at their core. And in the challenging help the Christian church rediscover its faith-life once removed from its culturally-based religious belief sets pre-determining what that faith-life now looks like to what it may become stripped of its religious dogmas and re-focused (or centered) upon Jesus Christ.

Radical theology can therefore be a useful tool both for both the atheist in examining a world without God (or, in Jack Caputo's sense, a world which has absorbed all that God is into its very bones, as a world where God has died and now "divinely insists" within its secular structures). Or, for the Christian church, in examining a world where God may have died in one sense to then "insist within its very structures" while in another sense continues to live as the God we know risen from death with renewed power and vigor to export salvation fully to all the world both intrinsically and extrinsically.

Without radical theology one cannot form a foundation of understanding that would include this "both-and, either-or" sublimity of God's divine work of imputing His sovereign will and Spirit-infused power into humanity's structures (nor even that of the cosmos, inanimate and indeterminately determined as it now exists). But with radical theology a Christian theologian may fully exert a theistic approach above the "roar of religiosity" with an empirical knowledge that even within the nature of nature itself - or, the nature of social structures and humanity itself - that God is there, partnered with us, to bring about His glory and will, however we describe it.

To be sure, an atheistic approach to radical theology would not admit this; or rather, would tell the Christian church that this is an abomination to the usage of radical theology itself. But, this would then portend to the atheistic belief the more superior approach when in fact it is but one approach based upon internal subjectivity prejudiced towards a kind of atheistic "neutrality." For the Christian believer, that prejudice is not his or her internal choice, being smitten by the opposite conviction that God is here and is not dead. That He has been radically transformed by death and resurrection and now made alive in desperately new ways as a Living Being extending throughout the cosmos of His creation. That despite claims of His ontological death, God is very much alive to rule over the evil of this world presenting its generations with existential despair and uncertainty. For the Christian then, radical theology can be a tool set to recover the church's sight - as well as this lost world's vision - of the God who rules and is higher than the wisdom of men and the power of evil.

Used in this sense then, radical theology ironically allows for hope, which is a hope that Jack Caputo looks for too in his own secular, a/theistic approach, though in a different sense from the Catholic tradition he had grown up with - first in naivety as a child, and then as a fervent believer in religious training. A unique training that allowed him to investigate the hermeneutical structures of his faith so that he might do the hard work of examining not only his beliefs, but that of the church's too, as it cross-sects with normative Christian theological structures.

So then, this subject of a "Christian radical theology" can be a hard one to discover, uncover, and move forward given its many premises. But it can be done so long as it is known that what lies ahead is the Scylla and Charybdis of academic biblical criticism:

"Biblical criticism is perennially caught between the Scylla of interpretive freedom

and the Charybdis of irrelevance. Too much hermeneutic freedom and the tradition

disintegrates, losing its epistemological appeal. Too little interpretive freedom and

the Bible becomes merely an irrelevant historical artifact, rather than the living

Word of God." Inherently, evangelical biblical interpretation is unquestionably

caught between a need for relevance and the need for textual validity." - anon

Philosophers of the world, and especially Christian-based philosophers such as Jack Caputo, give to Christian theologians the gift of insight set apart from the church as they are. The church itself has enough of its own burdens let alone to carry the weight of skepticism and disbelief upon its shelf of self-examinations and opportunities. But each theological era must bear its yoke and into this post-Christian era has come radical theology's contemporary insights which may be either (i) demonized by apologetic discourse and excised away or, (ii) addressed with the solemnity and gravity that it deserves. For readers here we would encourage the latter approach in the power and wisdom of the Spirit of God as is possible upon those few men and women expert enough in theology to carry forth this battle of self-examination to the greater good of God's Spirit.

Peace,

R.E. Slater

November 2, 2015

Below are several kinds of definitions

and portrayals of Continental Philosophy

Below are several examples of what a Christian

Radical Theology may mean. However, this would

be incorrectly used of that philosophic discipline and

more typical of an Evangelical meta-physic of theology

Roger Olson - Christian Thoughts About Halloween

Christian Thoughts about Our (American) New National Holiday: Halloween

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2015/10/christian-thoughts-about-our-american-new-national-holiday-halloween/

by Roger Olson

October 29, 2015

Comments

Of course, it’s not really a “national holiday” in any formal or legal sense; schools, banks and government offices don’t close on October 31. By “new national holiday” mean that, in recent years, what used to be an evening for kids to go door-to-door “trick or treating” has evolved into a popular festival day with television, schools and clubs devoting much time and attention to…whatever it is that Halloween celebrates.

Many Christians, especially conservative evangelicals, have reacted vigorously and critically to the rise of Halloween. They point out that it often involves what philosopher Paul Ricouer labeled “the symbolism of evil” (although he meant something much more than the mostly silly occultism that accompanies a lot of Halloween celebrations). That is, as neo-paganism, Wicca and serious occultism have become more popular, or at least better known publicly, many Christians have shied away from any observance of Halloween because it often includes symbolism drawn from those sources.

Indeed, there are pagan and occult roots of Halloween. “Samhain” (pronounced “saw-win” or “sow-han”) is a pagan festival that allegedly goes back to pre-Christian European, especially Celtic, cultures. There are other terms for the same festival in other European languages. At least according to Wiccans and other neo-pagans, this is the night of the year (October 31-November 1) when the “veil” between the realms of the living and the dead is thinnest and the possibility of the spirits of the dead crossing over is greatest.

This may be why ancient European Christians “baptized” October 31 as “All Saints Eve”—the night before All Saints Day (November 1)—to counter pagan celebration perceived by Christians as opening the door to a demonic realm of activity.

Martin Luther, of course, nailed his “Ninety-five Theses” to the church door in Wittenberg on October 31, so many Protestants celebrate October 31 (or the Sunday nearest to it) as “Reformation Day.”

Some evangelical churches in America have “adopted” October 31 as a special opportunity for a kind of evangelism: “Hell Houses.” During the 1990s and first decade of this century, especially, numerous churches around the country have held religious-themed haunted house events promoting fear of hell.

When I was a kid growing up among conservative evangelical Christians in the Upper Midwest Halloween was simply an evening for children to get candy by dressing up in costumes and going door to door doing some kind of little “trick” (nothing mean or harmful—except for a few rogue teens later at night) and asking for a “treat”—usually a piece of candy. My parents, Pentecostals pastors both, didn’t discourage that, but frowned on using any occult symbolism in costumes or decorations. Ironically, though, some of my most vivid memories of childhood are of our church’s rather elaborate “haunted house” events around Halloween.

During the 1980s and 1990s a new awareness of the reality of serious occultism arose in America. Many newspapers, for example, featured “real witches” (Wiccans) in front page articles and described their covens and “Samhain” rituals. My first exposure to this was in 1980. I may have been dimly aware of it before then, but it seemed like such an obscure subculture that it wasn’t worth taking seriously. In 1980 I was co-teaching a university course (at the university where I was working on my Ph.D. in Religious Studies) entitled “Deity, Mysticism, and the Occult.” We used Ricoeur’s bookThe Symbolism of Evil to give the course serious scholarly content but also required students to read sociologist of religion Robert Ellwood’s Alternative Altars—a survey of non-traditional religions in North America including neo-pagan and occult religions (taken very seriously). The course was wildly popular among the undergraduates of the university partly because we invited guest speakers from various little-known and non-traditional religious movements to visit the class to speak.

The chairman of the Religious Studies Department of the university, who was also my supervisor and “official” teacher of the course (although he rarely attended it), offered me a relatively large sum of money to invite a scholar of “deity, mysticism and/or the occult” to fly in from virtually anywhere to speak to the class. I already knew whom I wanted to invite. A well-known researcher into neo-paganism and Wicca lived in suburban Chicago and I called him up and he agreed to come. I knew him to be a Christian, an ordained Methodist minister, as well as perhaps the most informed non-neo-pagan, non-Wiccan about those phenomena in America.

I met him at the airport when he arrived to speak to the evening class. He knew his assignment—to talk to the class about his research—and the first thing he said to me was “Let’s go find some real witches.” Needless to say, this then still “Pentecostal boy,” was shocked and bit afraid. I asked him how we would do that and he said “Where’s the nearest city phone directory yellow pages?” We found one and he looked under “Occult” in the yellow pages and found two entries. One was near the airport: “The Occult Shoppe.” So we drove there. It was a non-descript store front in a mostly industrial neighborhood. The only indication of its nature was a small sign that said “Occult Shoppe” over the entrance. It had a large plate glass window that was covered inside with curtains.

The scholar and I simply walked in; I stayed near the door. I was almost shaking with trepidation. He walked up to the glass counter containing all kinds of occult-related objects and began a conversation with the two women who owned the store. I listened and looked around. The one room open to the public (there were back rooms for “readings”) had a large pentagram inside a circle on the floor. The scholar informed me later that indicated it was a site for neo-pagan rituals; a coven met there. After he mentioned the names of some nationally-known neo-pagan/Wiccan leaders he knew personally, the women relaxed and answered his questions. They claimed the store “served” about fifty Wiccan covens of several kinds (not Satanists) in the northern part of that large city. They said there were many more covens than that in that city of about two million people. As I examined the not-very-light room I saw pictures of the Mother Goddess and her consort the “horned god,” many jars of herbs and potions and numerous books about the occult.

The scholar informed me that such stores existed in most major cities in America and that some are open to the public and some are not. Since then I have seen many similar stores in cities around the country. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s Wicca, especially, became more “exoteric” and less “esoteric.” Eventually, at one college where I taught an annual course on America’s Cults and New Religions I became acquainted with two Wiccans—a priestess of a “Dianic” coven (women only) and a member of a mostly gay coven. Both spoke to my class about neo-paganism and Wicca. Both insisted their religion has nothing to do with Satanism. I became convinced that, while they were serious and meant what they said, the “line” betweensome Wicca and some Satanism is rather thin—at least from a Christian point of view.

(Sidebar: My Wiccan priestess speaker told my class that her Dianic coven met in the basement of a large downtown church—with the church’s “blessing.” She also said that they did not sacrifice animals but vegetables. What vegetables? Pomegranates. I’ll leave it to you, dear readers, to figure out why.)

As a result of the “going public” of Wicca and other neo-pagan religions, and as a result of greater awareness (including some outright paranoia) about Satanism, many conservative evangelical churches dropped Halloween entirely and substituted other, more Christian-themed, events (always with candy, of course) to discourage their kids from even going trick-or-treating. Of course, the public paranoia about “poisoned candy” and candy bars with razor blades in them contributed to that phenomenon. Some hospitals went so far as to offer free X-ray examinations of trick-or-treat candy—to expose any razor blades or other harmful objects that may have been inserted in them.

Through all of that, my wife and I took our daughters trick-or-treating—sometimes in the snow! (One Halloween evening that city received thirty-four inches of snow! We took them trick-or-treating anyway—at their insistence, of course—but only until the snow was knee deep.) We dampened down on the occult symbolism but didn’t abandon Halloween altogether.

However, if I’m not mistaken, it seems to me that public schools, television, and even businesses have recently gone overboard celebrating Halloween. When I was as kid there may have been some minor Halloween observance at school, and that was the case when my daughters were in public schools, but now many public schools devote the whole day (October 31 or the day before if it falls on a Saturday as this year) to the it. Nearly all prime time network television programs devote the episode before or on Halloween to it. It has become an unofficial national American holiday. Why? Because America has bought into occultism? I don’t think so.

The reason is because it is one “holiday” without overt religious content or connotation. In our political correctness and out of desire not to offend non-Christians, we, to a very large extent, have put the brakes on Christmas—especially in public schools but also in many businesses (except insofar as they can use it to make money, but without any religious symbolism). I think we, as a culture and society, have tended to hype Halloween because it is perceived as a non-religious holiday so no one should be offended.

I once was asked to attend a public school board’s special meeting to discuss the observance and celebration of Halloween in its schools. A group of fundamentalist parents had objected to a school’s requiring students to role play being witches and wizards in a certain “fun” learning event. The kids didn’t want to and then parents tried to make their case that this was no different, really, from requiring atheist students from pretending to be saints or apostles or priests—because Wicca and neo-paganism are real religions, not mere fantasy. I spoke for them on that particular point—revealing the reality, the seriousness, of neo-paganism and Wicca as religious forms of life. That particular school board treated the complaining parents and me as would-be fundamentalist censors and controllers of curricula. They were extremely hostile to us. All the parents were asking is that their kids, and others, be offered the opportunity to “opt out” of such events insofar as they offended their religious sensibilities. The school board scoffed at the idea and basically rejected the whole plea. I was appalled.

(Sidebar: When I invited Wiccans to speak to my class I always offered students the opportunity to be absent without any penalty. A few usually opted for that and stayed away that day. I also forbid the speakers from doing anything other than explaining and answering questions. The priestess once attempted to get the class to participate with her in a ritual of “earth healing.” I stopped her. Occasionally a parent or two would call to complain about that aspect of the course. I routinely asked them if they wanted their student to encounter Wiccans and other neo-pagans in a Christian environment where we examined their beliefs and practices critically and prayed for them and where I explained why they are mistaken in their beliefs from an evangelical Christian point of view, or to encounter them first outside such an environment. That usually, perhaps always, stopped them from objecting to the president. I no longer teach any similar course; my teaching for the past sixteen plus years had focused solely on Christian theology. Then, in the 1980s and 1990s, it included religion and culture classes such as “America’s Cults and New Religions” which I advertised to students as it was an elective, as “Unsafe Sects.” One young male student had only heard, not seen, that unofficial title of the course and walked out when he discovered it was a religion course! Figure it out.)

So, to wrap it all up. I have no objection to “trick or treating.” In fact, I am looking forward to going trick or treating with my grandchildren this Saturday. Nor do I object to “haunted house” events so long as they do not go overboard and traumatize children. I do worry, however, that our culture may be going overboard with Halloween observance and celebration to the detriment of other, perhaps more culturally serious, holidays. I am ambivalent about Halloween. The rule I would suggest to Christian parents and pastors is: no occult symbolism. I do think occultism can become obsessive for some young people and it can be (from my evangelical Christian perspective) a door into a demonic realm. That’s a door best not opened.

Note to potential commenters: I do not permit people to “take over” my blog to promote their own religions, philosophies or worldviews. This is admittedly and openly and evangelical Christian blog; that is the perspective from which it is written and the section of Patheos where it appears. Feel free to correct anything that is factually in error, but I will not approve and post comments that attempt to “preach” or promote alternative religions, philosophies or worldviews. I always welcome sincerely asked questions.

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Select Comments

from Roger's Post

Kristen Rosser

I don't think the fact that some religions celebrate Halloween as a religious holiday needs to be a problem for Christians. Here are some of my thoughts from a blog post of my own:

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The modern secular celebration of Halloween really doesn't include any divination or witchcraft. It has nothing to do with sun-worship; in fact, it's not about worship at all...

Facing our fears by laughing at them or playing with safe versions of them is a very human thing to do, and it seems to be a healthy coping mechanism. Our English idiom "whistling in the dark" encapsulates the concept, which takes other forms such as jokes about death and dying....

John Santino was interviewed on the TheoFantastique blog in October 2007, and he shared these further insights:

"The study of ritual, festival, and celebration offers concepts for understanding large public events such as Halloween. The idea that there are certain periods when the everyday rules are meant to be broken is one. Also, the idea that during times of transition (in the life cycle or seasonal), all bets are off–the dead can mingle with the living; children are allowed to demand treats from adults, people dress in special costumes; things are turned upside-down and inside-out. These ideas help us to see Halloween for its importance. It is a time when we face our taboos (death being a major one) and playfully accept them as part of life."

Halloween is about facing our fears through the joint vehicles of pretend and partying. It's about recognizing that while we live on this earth we are part of the cycles of this earth, and that "seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease (Gen. 8:22)." To celebrate the harvest is also to accept the dying of the year. Halloween is about both. Christ has taken the sting of death; why not let Halloween help take some of its still-remaining fear?

[Historically, this is a] holiday that upends our rules and usual patterns. The kingdom of God is like that too: the child is the first to enter, the greatest shall be the servant, we save our lives by losing them. Halloween is the day when we open our doors to whoever knocks and give of our substance to "the least of these" who is standing there with an open bag. Isn't this a picture of the kingdom? Why, then, shouldn't we let it teach us its simple lesson?

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I agree that we shouldn't participate in actual pagan religious rituals. However, except for a small minority of the population, Halloween isn't about religious ritual-- it is, as you said, Roger, largely a secular celebration. But as Christians we can find our own meaning in it. It's a Romans 14-type thing, I think-- if we observe the day and glorify God, that's fine; if we don't observe it, that's also fine.

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Kon Michailidis

Halloween is a lot of fun. That is the problem. Christmas and Easter are not times of fun (mainly) but they are times of joy. There is a world of difference. Halloween will never be a time of joy. The spirit behind it is totally different. Christmas and Easter need to be specially taught, but Halloween seems to come naturally into an environment devoid of Christian teaching, with teachers and students picking up on the many dark, death- related symbols of it as if it was second nature. That at least has been my observation as a teacher and adviser.