We decrease!

A working axiom: On the far end of anti-intellectualism is enthusiasm; on the far end of rationalism is Pelagianism. Faith and faithlessness are of a different category than these. Why then do we spend so much time debating the merits and demerits of what has no bearing on faith?

"And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God. Yet among the mature we do impart wisdom, although it is not a wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age, who are doomed to pass away. But we impart a secret and hidden wisdom of God, which God decreed before the ages for our glory. None of the rulers of this age understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory" (1 Corinthians 2:1-8).

Christians ought to repent of seeking our own glory if we consider ourselves wise in our insightfulness, and also repent of considering ourselves wise in treating insightful Christians with indifference or disdain simply because we haven't known them as authorities. In my view, if something is insightful, then it at least indirectly implicates everyone who shares our world. And yet I find that nobody cares about what anyone else has to say about anything if it doesn't directly involve them. Instead of acknowledging the universal utility of insights, I watch as people sort of triage the information given to them by appealing to authority in themselves or in others whom they've identified as being sufficiently credentialed to proffer real insight. This might be characterized as a sort of anti-intellectualism, given that it betrays a sophist-like cynical dependence on the authority of the speaker to know whether it is worthwhile to listen to him.

Many theologians disparage philosophers and then in the next paragraph make philosophical arguments for fire support. Do they miss the irony of using philosophical argumentation to defend their anti-philosophical stance? Do they know that every time they try to think clearly that they're doing philosophy? Or do they only know philosophy as the prototypical Protestant bugbear? It's really irritating to sift through pages and pages of this stuff when I picked out a book for its theological content—especially when these would-be philosophers wade into political philosophy. At least Roman Catholics acknowledge their use for philosophy as a handmaiden to theology; that's wrong—but at least it's self-aware. Listen, I'm not a theologian and won't pretend to be (not yet, at least). So, theologians: Theology has its source in divine revelation. That's a good enough lane for you to stay in. All I ask for is consistency!

At any rate, setting aside theologizing from divine revelation, a pure anti-intellectualism is ultimately impossible; all one does is eschew or hand-wave away the intellectual output of some while embracing that of others. This is a trap for hypocrites who dismiss only those writings which aren't crude regurgitations of the vast and complex works of rational thought by properly credentialed obscurantists. Where this trickles down to the laity, it may manifest in a lazy maxim like, "I am a simple Christian. I go to Him in the Sacrament. I cannot say much else, except to ask and answer the questions my priest/pastor teaches me." Thinking this way plainly conflates humility and obsequiousness.

Now, all of the above is certainly true; nevertheless, I would be wrong to dwell on it, grouse about it, find enemies in those who do it, or allow it to distract me from what I find to be truly good and beautiful in this tradition of Word and Sacrament in the Church. There's a passage in John that strikes me as entirely relevant to this issue of terribly prevalent (dis)trust in teachers of doctrine on the wrong grounds: "The Jews therefore marveled, saying, 'How is it that this man has learning, when he has never studied?' So Jesus answered them, 'My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me. If anyone's will is to do God's will, he will know whether the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own authority. The one who speaks on his own authority seeks his own glory; but the one who seeks the glory of him who sent him is true, and in him there is no falsehood" (John 7:15-18). This reading came to me as good news, affirming the gospel message that though I die to the world, I live in Christ.

Reputation is an idol. Although the preceding gripes about reigning credentialism may be true, complaining about them isn't a properly Christian response but one made in bitterness at being slighted or even entirely unseen. And why should any philosopher be seen as anything other than a sinner saved in Christ? Here's a thought experiment: What if everyone loved you no matter how awful, stupid, and hypocritical you are? What if everyone hated you no matter how good you are? Doubtless you'll immediately prefer the former; in fact, I am totally certain that I would do an even better job at any task if I knew I'd be loved having done nothing good at all because there's freedom in that. That's by design. That's God's way of loving us: we do terribly and he still loves us just the same. That's how we're to love others, too. Every one of us is already set free from reputation.

We all intuit, deep-down, that judgment is simply a feature of life no matter what we might want or need. The good news is that someone was judged, in real life, in our stead, and judged perfectly righteous. So this isn't an enjoinder to ignore the gnawing sense that reputation—which boils down to judgment—actually matters; it does matter. It's already taken care of, that's all. And Christians are allowed to walk in that freedom.

As I walk in Christian freedom, I find that I spend a lot of time admiring art, praising creativity, creating my own, and even at my most self-aware I'll consider how artists somehow participate in God's creative powers and beauty. I don't spend nearly enough time considering God's artistry, however, which is not only sufficient, but abundant, even without our participation. The same applies to creative thinking, philosophical musings, or theological pondering. Maybe we should consider how Christians want God to outlast everything else! That thought gives us joy. When it comes to more intellectual pursuits, it's normal to explore our thoughts as though we could fully explain or justify any of our beliefs with a foundational axiom or web of beliefs. We should remember, though, that God is our foundation. This is something I hadn't given much thought before: Our capacity to discover truth is not the foundation for discovering what we need to know. The Lord is that foundational guarantor of not only the arts, the sciences, and whatever else may pique our interests, but also of our discoveries within them.