Head full of sermons, mouth full of spiders.

If one could create a pie chart that displayed the amount of mental energy spent on certain intellectual topics at my school, I'm sure that "postmodernism" would constitute a fairly big piece of the pie. "Postmodernism" is a pluriform subject, and the ways in which folks in my classes attend to it are equally diverse. While a significant portion of the student body has embraced the social aspects of the theory as being especially helpful in matters of ecclesiology, the response to its philosophical claims on the part of the faculty has largely been one of scorn.

The reason why the faculty tends to treat postmodernism as a dubious philosophy becomes apparent when one considers Jean-Francois Lyotard's dictum that postmodernism is essentially "incredulity toward metanarratives." If we are to understand metanarratives as discourses that are universal and totalizing in their scope, then it would seem that the Christian narrative is perhaps the most famous (some would say infamous) metanarrative in history. As such, it's a prime target for the anti-totalizing work of postmodern theory.

If such an understanding of postmodernism is correct, and it is affirmed that postmodernism is a trenchant philosophy, then it is obvious that there are huge ramifications for Christianity. From the vantage point of this kind of postmodern theory, the affirmation of the Christian narrative implies hegemony and its offspring - violence (be it physical or cognitive). If that is the case, then incredulity toward Christianity is the right course to take; if it is not pursued, then one is guilty of supporting an intellectual and spiritual regime that inevitably leads to terrible things.

In this light, it's easy to see why members of the CTS faculty earnestly want to reject postmodern theory out of hand - it's a direct threat to the very faith that they and their students hold so dear.

But perhaps all the worry is rooted in a misunderstanding of what Lyotard means in his assessment of metanarratives. James KA Smith thinks so, and in a cogent and compact essay in this wonderful book, explains why:

"For Lyotard, metanarratives are a distinctly modern phenomenon: they are stories which not only tell a grand story (since even premodern and tribal stories do this), but also claim to be able to legitimate the story and its claims by an appeal to universal reason... What is wrong with this is that such a modern grand récit fails to see that it, too, is grounded in a myth and faith commitments." (125)

The acknowledgement that metanarratives are propped up by Reason is liberating for Christianity, because though reason is one of the pillars upon which it stands, its ultimate foundation is that of faith. Since the Christian narrative is primarily legitimated by faith and not reason, it is not subject to the critique of metanarratives that postmodernism offers.

In fact, according to Smith, postmodernism is then a boon to Christianity, at least in academic circles, because it lends it an epistemic foothold similar to that of Reason. The postmodern project has left in tatters the Enlightenment conceits of "disinterested," "universal," and "autonomous" Reason as the premiere epistemic base. It exposes the language games, the surreptitiously agreed-upon narratives of legitimation, and the struggles for power that underpin supposedly neutral and secular Enlightenment Rationality, and its most significant product - scientific knowledge. Not only are these narratives and games exposed, but they are exposed for what they really are: myths necessary for Reason and science to legitmate themselves. One of the hallmarks of a myth is that, while it may be true, it isn't proven as such by empirical methods or "universal" Reason. To argue that these myths both legitimate Reason and science and are legitimated by Reason or science presents us with a rather dizzying circular argument. Because myths are not susceptible to empirical proof, they must be accepted in another way - through faith. Since these myths require faith commitments, they are, in the broadly Augustinian sense, religious.

Here one can see how the postmodern incredulity toward metanarratives is actually a help to the Christian story. Smith explains:

"Lyotard relativizes (secular) philosophy's claim to autonomy, and so grants the legitimacy of a philosophy which grounds itself in Christian faith. Previously, such a distinctly "Christian philosophy" would have been exiled from the "pure" arena of philosophy because of its "infection" with bias and prejudice. Lyotard's critique, however, demonstrates that no philosophy - indeed no knowledge - is untainted by prejudice or faith-commitments. In this way, the playing field is leveled, and new opportunities to voice a Christian philosophy are created."(134)

This gives me hope for a future that is full of honest discourses which acknowledge the presuppositions and faith commitments behind all systems of thought. Yet my hope is tempered by the fact that it seems that only those who are ostensibly religious have owned up to this idea.