From
the Editor:
The Pope Provokes
by
Mark Silk
It
is hard to resist seeing the commotion stirred up by Pope Benedict XVI’s
speech at the University of Regensburg as an example of the perils of
putting professors in positions of power. The temptation to value
provocation over discretion, to wing it on subjects outside your proper ken,
to show that you’re the smartest guy in the room—these would appear to have
gotten the better of a pontiff returning to the academic podium where he
discoursed on theology to all comers 35 years ago.
What got
Benedict into trouble was his quotation of a nasty put-down of Islam by the
learned Byzantine emperor Manuel II Paleologus, delivered in a debate with a
Persian professor on the relative merits of Christianity and Islam near the
end of the 14th century. But even before trotting out the quote, which he
culled from a modern edition of the emperor’s account of the debate, the
pope took aim at the principal proof text used today to claim that Islam is
committed to religious tolerance.
Manuel,
Benedict mused, must have known the Koranic verse (Sura 2.256) that
proclaims, “There must be no compulsion in religion.” Explained the pope,
“According to the experts, this is one of the suras of the early period,
when Muhammad was still powerless and under threat.”
Snap!
Actually, the
pope’s own expert begged to disagree. “The consensus of scholars, both
Muslim and non-Muslim, is that Sura 2 is from the Medinah period, when
Muhammad had increasing political power,” said Kevin Madigan, S.J.,
president of the Institute for the Study of Religions and Cultures at the
Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome, in an interview with Commonweal
Magazine September 25. Perhaps Benedict was thinking of the early
Christian church, which argued strenuously for religious toleration
until, in the late fourth century, it was sufficiently powerful to bring the
hammer down on Jews and pagans.
As for the
emperor’s now world-famous put-down, it went like this: “Show me just what
Muhammad brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and
inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.”
This has “a
brusqueness that leaves us astounded,” Benedict said, yet he did not venture
an opinion on its accuracy. One could be forgiven for concluding that he
considered it really bad manners by our lights but not untrue.
(To be sure,
after the firestorm broke, he explained that what he’d quoted from the
emperor did not “in any way express my personal thought.” And on October 9,
the official text of his speech was altered to say that Manuel II had spoken
with “a brusqueness that we find unacceptable.”)
In the debate, Manuel goes on to criticize holy
war as displeasing to God because it is contrary to reason (logos)—and
“not to act with reason (to m¯e
syn logo poien) is alien to God.” He continues:
“Faith is a
fruit of the soul, not of the body. He who undertakes to lead someone to
faith needs a skillful tongue and right thinking, not violence….For just as,
when there is need to compel an unreasoning nature, one would not have
recourse to persuasion, so in order to persuade a reasoning soul, one cannot
have recourse to the fist, nor the whip, nor any other death threat. Nor can
one pretend that one has recourse to violence in spite of oneself, because
God ordered it.”
Now, Manuel’s
devotion to the cause of reason may have been enhanced by the fact that he
was writing up the debate several years after the fact during a lengthy
siege of Constantinople by the Turks. Be that as it may, the text’s modern
editor, Théodore Khoury, opines in a footnote that the sentiment came
naturally to him because he had been raised on Greek philosophy. By
contrast, the Persian professor would have held to the Muslim doctrine that
God “is absolutely transcendent, his will is not bound by any of our
categories, including that of reason.”
This was
enough for Benedict to embark on an extended riff celebrating the Christian
intellectual tradition for applying the rationalist categories of Greek
philosophy to biblical faith. Epitomized in the writings of Augustine and
Thomas Aquinas, this commitment to a reasoned approach to faith stems,
according to the pontiff, from the first sentence of the Gospel of John: “In
the beginning was the logos...” It is the absence of such commitment
that, he implies, accounts for the Muslim doctrine of jihad.
Benedict did
admit that there were medieval Christian theologians who succumbed to the
view that God transcends the categories of human reason. But moving quickly
on to the post-medieval era, he launched into a critique of what he claimed
was a progressive de-Hellenization of Western thought, beginning with the
Protestant Reformation and ending with modern secularism. His polemical
purpose was to show that only classical Christian thought can sail safely
between the fideist Scylla of the Muslims and the atheist Charybdis of the
secular rationalists.
Let us leave
aside the pope’s de-Hellenization thesis and focus instead on the critique
of Islam that created all the commotion. For starters, a look at the text of
Manuel’s dispute shows that, far from rejecting a reasoned approach to
faith, the Persian professor is at pains to show that it is Christianity,
not Islam, that is unreasonable. For example, he argues that, by
contradicting what God intends for men and women, Christianity’s
preferential option for celibacy is exo te logo—“contrary to reason.”
More
importantly, the flat claim that Islam is in thrall to an image of God as
utterly beyond our rational categories paints a varied religious tradition
with far too broad a brush. Precisely the opposite point of view came to
characterize Shiite (in contrast to Sunni) theology. As Roy Mottahedeh
emphasizes in his widely acclaimed book on Shiism in contemporary Iran,
The Mantle of the Prophet, “The Shiah in general believed that human
ways of reasoning were not essentially different from God’s ways of
reasoning and that humans could therefore decode much of the reasoning
behind the construction of the natural and moral world.”
Indeed, what led Mottahedeh, a scholar of medieval Islam, to write his book
was the realization that the mullahs and ayatollahs of contemporary Iran are
schooled in the very same Hellenism that once shaped the entire “Abrahamic”
intellectual world. “Here,” he writes, “was a living version of the kind of
education…that had produced in the West men such as the saintly and
brilliant theologian Thomas Aquinas…and in the East thinkers such as
Averroes among the Muslims and Maimonides among the Jews.”
Not to put too
fine a point on it, but if Pope Benedict wants to see the kind of
intellectual formation in action that he celebrated at Regensburg, he would
be best advised to pay a visit to Qom, the capital of Shiite education in
Iran.
However, the
problem with the pontiff’s discourse is not so much that he fails to reckon
with intellectual diversity within Islam as that, German theologian that he
is, he grants religious abstractions far more efficacy in the world than
they deserve. Can a proper theoretical balance between faith and reason
really be proof against the use of violence to advance a religion’s cause?
To take but
one notable medieval Christian counterexample, it was Aquinas’ own religious
order, the Dominican, that provided the religious muscle for the crusade
against the Albigensian heretics in the early 13th century—just the time
when faith that human categories of reason could capture God’s intentions
was at its apogee in Western Christiandom.
More to the
present point: By Benedict’s lights, Shiites should be just the sort of
reasonable folk for whom violent jihad is a dead letter. But you couldn’t
make the case on the evidence of the words and deeds of such current Shiite
luminaries as Muqtada al-Sadr, head of the Mahdi Army in Iraq; Hassan
Nasrallah, leader of Hezbollah in Lebanon; or Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, president
of Iran. Would that you could. |