Theology and Difference: The Wound of Reason.

Cunningham, David S.

By Walter Lowe. Indiana Series in the Philosophy of Religion. Bloomington: Indiana University, 1993. Pp. xiii + 181. $29.95.

Commentators lament the failure of theology to engage the work of Derrida. While deconstruction has affected biblical studies, its theological appropriation has been largely limited to those intent upon proclaiming the "death of God" or otherwise dismantling religious belief. We have needed an exposition of deconstruction as a tool which could be adapted for use by traditional systematic theologians.

Such an exposition has now been written, and it is a tour de force. Lowe, professor of systematics at Emory University, believes Derrida's work can operate in the service of Christian theology. But he knows that few would be convinced if he spoke only the insider's argot and ignored traditional concerns; instead, he focuses on Derrida's affinities with perhaps the most important modern philosopher (Kant) and theologian (Barth). Theologians who have put off engagement with Derrida because "he's just too different" no longer have an excuse.

L. argues that the Enlightenment metaphysic ignored human limitations and sought to provide a complete, coherent, definitive metanarrative of origin, separation, and restoration. This metanarrative fails because it does not adequately account for the reality of human suffering, especially the violence that is the hallmark of our century. The alternative is a "radical hermeneutics" that admits the limits and brokenness of the human condition. Deconstruction provides an appropriate method, because it testifies, "directly or indirectly, to the reality of human brokenness" (xi). Deconstruction recognizes the reality of evil and sin.

Consequently, suffering is a focus of the book. Following J. B. Metz, L. argues that suffering provides us with a critical standard against which experience can be tested, as well as a common vision of the human condition and an awareness of our need for redemption. But unlike Metz, who focuses mainly on praxis, L. is concerned with theoretical reason as well: "that crucial, broken but perceptive thinking represented by the memory of suffering" (11). L.'s subtitle takes full advantage of its ambiguous genitive: reason may indeed inflict wounds, but it also bears a wound. "A reason aware of its own brokenness might prove, in the end, a better guide than one committed a priori to healthy-mindedness" (11).

L. begins with a fine discussion of Barth's Romerbrief, arguing that its emphasis upon the "qualitative difference" between God and humanity is not so much a minimization of human striving (as a Nietzschean critic might suppose), but a leveling of the playing field. In asserting the significant difference between God and humanity, Barth cautions us against attributing an inflated importance to the less significant (but always impinging) differences within the created order. Derrida is brought into the conversation, along with Freud and Husserl, in order to develop a splendid critique of traditional hermeneutics.

L. now returns to Kant, whose early work on theodicy echoes Barth's emphasis on the qualitative difference between God and humanity. This is nicely contrasted with Enlightenment optimism; and here readers, fearing a lengthy account of Leibnizian theodicy, are surprised by a delightful account of Alexander Pope's "An Essay on Man" instead. The contrast could not be greater, and it demonstrates the rhetorical appeal of linking humanity to God via "the great chain of being." By contrast, Kant appears almost Barthian: "On the terms which Kant has explicitly prepared, to speak of fundamental difference is to speak of one difference and one difference only, namely the difference between that which is finite, however grand, and that which is infinite" (90). Kant's metaphysics, rationalistic though they may be, nevertheless operate coram Deo; and this view continues, though implicitly, into the critical writings and especially the Second Critique. Consequently, the categorical imperative appears increasingly relevant for Christian ethics. And this is an important claim, for the ethical implications of deconstruction have not been adequately explored in the contemporary theological engagement with Derrida. Hence L. concludes with an incisive critique of the work of Mark C. Taylor, and reiterates the claim that genuine thought is broken thought, and that a genuine human life is a suffering life.

My only significant complaint is that L.'s account of brokenness and suffering is fairly abstract. His occasional nods toward a passion-centered Christology and a fleeting reference to The Brothers Karamazov suggest that L. has the resources to offer a more concrete account of this "wound of reason." A more Christological focus would also have made his concluding reflections on ethics more persuasive. Finally, suffering here is primarily a white, Western, male enterprise (the favorite example is of a platoon leader). Yet L. is generally sensitive about matters of inclusivity, and his larger claims need not be as limited as his examples.

L. sees his work as offering a possible alternative to the method(s) of correlation currently popular among theologians. For this alone, he deserves commendation. Moreover, he has produced a fine work of philosophical theology, inviting systematic theologians with traditional concerns to learn more about deconstruction and employ it in the service of the gospel. That the book will likely be attacked by deconstructionist "insiders," who will resent L.'s unwillingness to play their game and make sacrifices to their gods, only makes it all the more inviting.