Pluralism Without Relativism: Religious Studies à la Mode
By Joseph C. McLelland
Toronto: Clements Academic
Joseph C. McLelland needs no introduction to Record readers. He is a long time contributor and presently involved in the magazine’s Theology 101 series. He is also professor emeritus at McGill University and Presbyterian College, Montreal, not to mention a past moderator of the church. I tend to think of him as the Presbyterian’s Presbyterian, but for the very reason that he is far from the languid type society loves (sometimes justifiably) to ridicule. There is levity to the man that seeps through his work. Only the philosophically dyspeptic miss it. His love of irony and sportive turn of phrase is evident in everything he writes. This recent book is no exception—note the McLellandesque subtitle.
Where to begin? Pluralism, one of the main terms in the title, signifies to many how a cacophony of ultimately irreconcilable worldviews can peacefully co-exist. It trumps competitors as religious exclusivism and inclusivism. Unlike them, pluralism, in the best possible sense, celebrates difference while honouring uniqueness. As one would expect, McLelland discusses this issue but inflates it. Indeed, the book is an odyssey into a plurality of viewpoints from theology and philosophy to science, art, and literature. What is especially valuable (for those with ears to hear) is the intermittent chorus about the irreducible nature of truth, hence the phrase “without relativism” in the title. Being a collection of essays, the book has an oscillating focus. But rather than a mere publishing coincidence, this says something about the style and breadth of vision of its author. McLelland loves to traffic in ideas much like a wonderstruck child unaffected by the jaded perceptions of adults. A “second naivete,” Paul Ricoeur called it, a learned ignorance, if you will, that is hard won and especially refreshing to see in a professor emeritus. Where some are threatened by pluralism in all its dizzying forms, McLelland is challenged by its revelatory potential.
I cannot rehearse all discussed in the book. The intended audience is academic; the many topics specialized. A common theme is the tension faced by religions and their study in a postmodern world: to assign an absolute claim to a particular religion or to reduce religions to their lowest common denominator. It’s an issue of integrity and McLelland guards religions’ integrity by “escaping between the horns” of the dilemma, not as the idiom has it, “taking [it] by the horns,” that is, simply rebutting it. Religions make absolute claims. The trick is to recognize their scope and function. All absolute claims are incomplete, those of the various religions included. Their incompleteness, however, does not mean that absolute claims are false or all (competing ones) “true,” which basically amounts to the same thing. Religious claims envision a state of affairs that cannot be limited to planet earth, as oddly “sci-fi” as this sounds. As they are universal, religious claims attend to “possibilities on a cosmic scale.” Standard forms of logic fail here. Modal logic, McLelland’s hobbyhorse, is the promising alternative. Not only does it aim at a path through dilemmas, but modal thinking forces us to see past our noses, to explore alternative forms of universal validity. The call is nothing short of “a renewal of youth.”
For the religiously weary the proposal is exciting. Christians are not exempt from confessing the square circle of Jesus’s humanity and divinity. But our parochial outlook often robs us of the riches of this admittedly strange logic. In other words, an important point about the doctrine is not to confirm us in our sensibilities about what is real or plausibly believed, how, for instance, Jesus’ person conforms to our understanding of humanity and divinity. It is the exact opposite: Jesus’ person tests our understanding, puts it into question, as it were. “[W]e might say that to call Christ ‘divine’ has things the wrong way round. An independent definition of divinity is impossible for the Christian; rather, ‘Jesus the Christ’ is what ‘divine’ means.” This may explain why for McLelland Christian or any other exclusivism and inclusivism are feeble attempts at interreligious dialogue. They are too parochial and modernist to manage the radical possibilities of universal salvation. Modal theory rectifies the situation, interestingly, by plumbing the depths of the Christian tradition in particular. McLelland does consider his modal approach to be relevant to other religious traditions and examines some in the book. His principal audience and orientation, however, is Christian. He has no qualms about this “relative absoluteness”: “Christianity is absolute for [the] Christian, as other religions are for their adherents.” In any case, he detects a universal intention in the Christian scriptures that has always, oddly enough, been moot.
Pluralism Without Relativism is a gift to the Christian and scholarly communities. “À la mode” is an apt designation. The book ingenuously merges contemporary society’s profound skepticism over artificial absolutes and assurances with what is best in religious traditions, past and present. Iconoclastic is another term one could use, although McLelland’s version is entirely in keeping with his mien: courteous yet firm. Whether everyone following the Theology 101 series should acquire the book as a handy companion is a tough call. Make no mistake, the language can get thick at times and the presentation, while understandable, is fast-paced, much like this review. For graduates of the series up to the challenge, their effort will be well-spent. I, for one, consider the volume to be an invaluable landmark in a field desperately in need of insight and direction.
