Otros artigos deste número | Versión en inglés | Versión en francés
Secularization
Gregory Baum
The difference between Jewish thought and Christian theology need not always be due to the essential distinction between the two religions. What happens very often is that the difference reflects the different social and cultural situation in which theological thought arises. In this article I wish to show that while Christian thought has, for very good reasons, moved in the direction of secular theology, Jewish thinkers have shown very little sympathy for this trend. The reasons for their caution have to do with their actual historical situation.
Secularization is a word that stands for many trends in Christian life and thought. It refers, first of all, to the historical development by which the Christian Church gave up, or was made to give up, the authority she held over many aspects of secular life. At one time the Church participated in all areas of civil life, and as representative of the spiritual order she claimed a special power over them. Thanks to secularization Christians began to recognize more clearly the autonomous character of secular values. (Since the Jewish community never held power over the world, there is no strict parallel to secularization in Judaism.)
This socio-political transformation led Christians to a new, spiritual appreciation of the secular aspects of life. Secular life was important in itself, and not because of a special relation to the sacred world of the Church. Christians began to look upon the secular as the area of life where in fact they spent most of their energies, where they made the important decisions, where the Gospel had meaning for them, and where they encountered both sin and divine grace. These Christians no longer wanted to look upon the Church as the place where they meet the gracious God and from which they move into the world to do his will: for them the world itself became the locus of the divine. It was there, in conversation and action with others, that God addressed them, convicted them of sin, delivered them to a new freedom, and initiated them into abundant life. These Christians went to the Church to celebrate the mystery of grace present in their secular existence.
This new Christian experience raised many questions about the strict separation of the sacred and secular. Is it really true that the sacred, man's encounter with the living God, takes place in an area distinct from day-to-day life, in a special sphere set apart by rites and rituals? A growing number of Christians began to feel that the secular is not as secular as it appears: its deepest dimension is in fact religious. The deepest meaning of friendship, reflection, work, love and the effort to transform this world, is man's participation in God's redemptive action operative in human history. To the extent that secular activities reveal a transcendent dimension and link people in a more conscious way to the mystery at the heart of the universe, they are no longer simply secular: they become the locus of the sacred. Contemporary theology has, therefore, rejected the radical distinction between the sacred and the secular.
For the Church this sort of theology is often threatening. It takes away some of her power. For according to this theological trend the first means of divine grace is not the sacramental system but life itself. Life itself mediates the conviction of sin and the entry into new vitality: for God is redemptively present in it.
Secular theology, finally, has come to understand the Gospel as a message having to do with the transformation of life on earth. The promise of the kingdom that is to come is not to make people other-worldly: on the contrary, the promised kingdom presses in upon us now, it manifests itself in God's victory over evil and sin, it summons us to wrestle against powers and principalities, and it makes us impatient so that God's will be done on earth as it is in heaven. The promised future does not make Christians shrug their shoulders about human history: on the contrary, it heightens their expectation of what earthly life should be like and engages them in a common struggle against injustices and social evil.
These few remarks about the theology of secularization reveal that this is not something that the Jewish community needs. As I mentioned before, it never held the power of an established Church and hence there was no need for it to withdraw. Nor did Jews separate as much as Christians the sacred and the profane. Ritual and life were interwoven, they belonged together. Judaism was always earthy, concerned with life and goodness on this earth, and while Jewish liturgy expressed faith in the world to come, it never encouraged an other-worldly spirit. Judaism has always been secular, in the sense in which we have used the word above.
The concern of the Jewish thinkers is, therefore, quite different. In the first place they are concerned with Jewish identity. Secular theology makes it more difficult to define the self-identity of a religious group for it sees all people together, under God's saving influence, summoned to renew life on this earth. Since Christians are in the majority, this presents no threat to them. But Jews are a small minority. To survive they must define themselves more clearly. Ritual, liturgy, practice became for them necessary elements of their religious survival. Attachment to their particular calling, to their land, to their religious past are indispensable elements of the Jewish faith.
Secondly, Jewish thinkers take for granted the secular outlook. What they are concerned with is the contrary: they wish to preserve in the Jewish community a greater sense of divine transcendence, a strongly felt desire to step back from life, to reflect, to be open to God in prayer. Since theological thought is usually a corrective for present trends in the religious community, it is not surprising that Christian theologians in a community with a strong other-worldly piety stress the secular aspect of divine salvation, while Jewish thinkers in a community that has never neglected the secular as significant stress the otherness of God.
Thirdly, we note that Christians today like to speak of God in terms of his reconciling, healing and transforming work among men. They wish to speak of a God who makes sense. He explains their life to them. The Jewish community, on the other hand, wrestles with the incomprehensible suffering that has been inflicted on it. Jews reflect, as Christians ought to do, on Auschwitz and the horrors of human sin. To speak of a God who makes sense, who heals and transforms, does not fit into their historical experience. God does not make sense: he is transcendent, and Jews are called to be faithful to their call even if the pieces do not add up, even if their tragic history is incomprehensible. They want to be faithful to God, not because of the humanization which his presence induces, but simply because he is God.
This is the kind of language Jews have come to use. Since Christians have often used the language of God's otherness to defend the irrational in their ecclesiastical organization and protect the power of sacred persons, they feel the need to stress that God is concerned with human growth and freedom. God is the mystery out of which we draw our vitality and thanks to which we overcome the obstacles to social and personal transformation.
Father Gregory Baum is professor at the Toronto Graduate School of Theology, Canada, and editor of The Ecumenist.
