In reading Elaine Graham's Between a Rock and a Hard Place, I quickly realised how little I know about the world of practical theology and its work on the appropriate public role for religion in pluralist societies. I am well acquainted with the conversations on this topic in other fields, like political philosophy, Christian ethics and law, but Graham introduces a world quite different, though she draws on a number of the same sources. Here is some of what I learned.
Graham hopes to help theology speak with a clear public voice, yet in a way which avoids two pitfalls. One is the ‘micro public sphere’ of conservative religion, which tends to perceive itself as the victim of a secularist crusade. The other is radical orthodoxy and post-liberalism, which consider public speech a risky proposition when it encourages speakers to give too much linguistic ground to their audience. She is not exclusively critical of either, and finds some things to admire in both. As she writes, ‘one of the charges levelled against public theology has been that its commitment to dialogue and apologetics represents a capitulation to human autonomy, rather than authentic obedience to God. While I have defended the bilingual and apologetic nature of public theology, I have also wanted to learn from those critics’ (p. 221).
Graham suggests, as an alternative, that we see public theology as a form of apologetics – though one that is revitalised, stripped of its ‘rationalist, modernist’ baggage, and open to the imagination. In offering such an alternative, she draws on a variety of writers outside practical theology, including Habermas, Sandel, Wolterstorff and others. Her chief hero, however, is Max Stackhouse, who provides a very complimentary endorsement.
The book is largely theoretical rather than, say, historical or practical. Because her criticisms of her opponents are relatively mild, it has the tone of a survey more than analytic critique. The book is at its best when it steps out of the theory and shows what she has in mind in concrete terms, though she doesn't do this often. One notable example is her account of Bishop James Jones’ leadership in the Hillsborough Independent Panel, which brought to light police culpability for the 1989 football disaster.
One feature of the book struck me and, the more I read, the more it began to trouble me. Graham consistently uses the word theology as a subject of action, as in ‘public theology speaks’ or ‘theology must address multiple publics’ (or ‘must take account’ or ‘must choose’). The more I read, the more I wondered why theology, as such, really needs to do all those things – and who this theology is that's doing so much. For example, she writes of public theology seeking the welfare of the city. I agree that Christians should seek the welfare of the city, but theology? Isn't that politics’ job? That, I think, is what the classical tradition, including Aquinas, would have said. Of course, how Christians pursue politics will, sometimes, differ from how non-Christians pursue it, sometimes because of differing theological presuppositions. But that doesn't make it theology.
Take the case of Bishop Jones and Hillsborough. Was this theology doing something? Not in any obvious sense. This doesn't mean Jones shouldn't have led the panel or, afterwards, joined the victims’ families in the chapel. Indeed, I’m glad he did, but the reason is not that he's doing theology; it's that Jones can serve his city by exercising social responsibility, fair-mindedness and empathy in the face of suffering. Part of why he's good at the task is that he has learned those virtues from the Christian tradition, through prayer and so on. But that still doesn't make it theology.
I wonder why Graham prefers to call it theology. My guess, and it is nothing more than that, is that there is an ambivalence in her thought; one which can be brought to light by noting a tension between two different strands within radical orthodoxy. She invokes Graham Ward approvingly and, in one of the more robust critiques in the book, finds much fault with Philip Blond. Blond, she says, fails to be open about his theological presuppositions and this makes his readers suspicious that he's hiding something. Ward, by contrast, is openly theological – but it is not at all obvious what the political implications of his theology are. Thus, after quoting Ward, she writes, ‘In the postmodern urban context in which global economics and virtual reality have dissolved communities and bodies, Christianity can correct this drift away from materiality with an account of an alternative body’ (p. 126). That sounds like theology, even though I couldn't begin guess at what it means politically; on the other hand, we know what Blond wants politically even though it's anyone's guess how it connects to his theology. Maybe Graham is taking a touch too much from both Ward and Blond: suggesting that we do politics but sound like theologians. For my part, I’d be satisfied if Christian theologians were good theologians and Christian politicians were good politicians.
