Abstract: This article discusses the sources and significance of religious language and religious knowledge. The author first compares religion with questions of scientific cognition and experience, pointing out that the ability to grasp and use concepts in thought is the precondition for cognition, and that analogy and metaphor are crucial to any system of knowledge. Simply put, these preconditions of knowledge are “language,” and language is grounded in a form of life, so it is necessarily finite. Language cannot possess truth; even the language of science or religion is no exception. However, the significance of language lies in facilitating communication rather than flaunting truth, and the purpose of communication is understanding, which in turn recommends to others a way of life. Finally, if “truth” is understood as something beyond language, if truth is a “process” rather than a proposition, then we can say that religious language, while recommending a way of life, also hopes to lead people toward truth; the two are consistent. Truth will disclose itself to people in the process of life, but it will never be put into anyone’s pocket.
Keywords: religious language religious knowledge science and religion
I
With the linguistic turn in modern philosophy, the question of religious language has also received increasing attention from philosophers of religion. Is the language of religion nothing but “myth”? Or is religious language symbolic and poetic in function, yet unrelated to reality and truth? Or does religious language, like scientific language, possess cognitive significance? John Hick said: “One of the core questions before the philosopher of religion is the question of religious language: does religious discourse belong to the cognitive use of language or the non-cognitive use?”[①]
To answer this question, the first thing that cannot be ignored is: how is the cognitive use of language possible at all? Only after examining the cognitive problem of ordinary language and scientific language can one further discuss the similarities and peculiarities of religious language.
Hick insists: “Religion is concerned with reality, and its central assertions are ultimately fact-claims that are either true or false.”[②] Yet the problem is: first, what is “reality”? Second, what is the significance of true-or-false fact-claims in religion?
People are inclined to think that science is concerned with reality, and that scientific language is a description of reality. Yet this naive realism has long been battered by currents such as instrumentalism and historicism, and has nearly lost its footing in the philosophy of science. Religious philosophers such as Hick and Ian Barbour tend toward “critical realism” in an effort to reconcile the opposition between realism and instrumentalism—of course, this effort at mediation can be traced back at least to Kant.
This article mainly discusses philosophy of religion, and cannot embark on a thorough exploration of the relevant issues in the philosophy of science. In order to get to the topic quickly, I shall cite a few examples of scientific cognition to lead into the discussion of language and reality.
First, in the mainstream modern scientific worldview, “elementary particles” are regarded as the ultimate structure of the real world. So how can we cognize the reality of elementary particles?
Obviously, we cannot directly perceive atoms with the ordinary senses. If we asked a physicist to demonstrate the existence of atoms to us, he might take us into a laboratory, open some complex and precise instruments (perhaps a “Wilson cloud chamber” or a “Geiger counter” and the like), and then perform some profound and obscure operation—very much like a magician’s mysterious ritual. Sometimes he would also recite some enigmatic incantations, such as “excited state,” “beta decay,” “transition,” and so on. Then, for example, we would see a vague track appear on the screen, or hear a clicking sound from the Geiger counter. The physicist would then tell us: look, this is an electron! And because of our boundless trust in the “priest” dressed in a white coat and looking sacred and solemn—the physicist—and our deep reverence for his profound and wondrous “ritual”—the scientific experiment—we would then say: oh, how amazing, I have seen an electron!
But from beginning to end, we have merely seen a mysterious track, or only heard a click. When did we ever see an electron? The reason we think we have seen an electron has to a large extent to do with the authority of the “priest” and the mystery of the “ritual.” And the reason scientists “see” electrons is the theory they have learned, a theory that claims to reveal the mysteries of the world. Yet to those who have not thoroughly studied and mastered this “science of mysteries,” and who at the same time have no trust at all in the sanctity of the “priest” and the “ritual,” the tracks in the cloud chamber or the clicking of the Geiger counter have no meaning whatsoever, much less can they serve as a demonstration of the so-called “electron.”
Philosophers of science have already realized that observation is inevitably “theory-laden.” Although the construction and refinement of theory of course depend on observation, without prior theory we would know nothing at all about what to observe or what is being observed. Hick’s theory of “experience as,” inspired by Wittgenstein, expresses a similar point: “The way in which we experience our environment depends on the conceptual system we employ, and it is transmitted in our language from generation to generation according to what we think, say, and do.”[③]
A person who has never heard of a “rabbit” will not experience anything as a rabbit; “electron,” “God,” and any other concept are similar. Whether one says that a certain “experience” is real or illusory, in order to “experience” an experience as something, we must take as a premise an a priori understanding of the concept of that thing. As Kant said, “Without sensibility no object would be given to us, and without understanding no object would be thought. Thoughts without content are empty, intuitions without concepts are blind.”[④] Or, from another angle, first mastering a set of “language”—that is, mastering the ability to think with concepts—is the precondition for cognition.
So how is “reality” related to language? How, or rather can religious language or scientific language describe “reality” at all?
II
Before further discussing the source and significance of language, let us briefly digress and continue the discussion from above about the “electron.”
Notice that the naming of “electron” carries a certain connotation of analogy or association—in fact, any naming based on existing words always involves a kind of symbolism: for example, “electron” is associated with “lightning” and “particle”; “God” is associated with “above” and “emperor.” To a certain extent, such symbolism helps people understand these concepts, yet it will undoubtedly also cause misunderstandings and prejudices. Thus, people sometimes prefer to use meaningless symbols to designate certain concepts; for example, scientists use “e” to represent “electron,” and Jewish theologians use the unpronounced symbol “YHWH” to designate God. Yet a mere symbol cannot ensure a connection between concept and reality; for example, the unit imaginary number i posited in mathematics has no counterpart to be found in the real world.
The Platonic strategy is simply to designate the world of pure concepts—the kingdom of mathematics—as “real,” while the actual world of life is instead a copy of reality. Yet this worship of the realm of Ideas is no different from Plato’s “theology”; that is to say, it relies on theological presuppositions to explain reality. For example, Cantor, the founder of set theory, explicitly claimed to be a Platonist[⑤], thereby not only appealing to the “kingdom of Ideas,” but directly invoking God to defend himself. He said: “The reality of mathematical objects does not exist in the actual world, but in the infinite wisdom of God: the intrinsic truth of mathematical objects, namely logical consistency, guarantees that such objects are ‘possible,’ and the absolutely infinite essence of God guarantees the eternal existence of these ‘possible objects’ in God’s thought.”[⑥]
If one is unwilling to appeal to Platonism, then the language of modern science is bound to face a huge predicament: for the world of elementary particles, on the one hand we can measure them with mathematical precision, yet on the other hand we cannot describe them in a “real” language. As Ian Barbour puts it: “The loss of describability is a striking feature of new physics. We are accustomed to picturing atomic components as things observed by our senses, but we must give up this tendency. Atomic structures are not only directly unobservable; not only cannot they be described in terms of sense qualities, they cannot even be imagined in terms of time, space, and causality. The very small atomic realm seems to be a reality fundamentally different from the realm of ordinary experience, and our common-sense notions do not apply to it. We can use mathematical equations to depict everything that happens in experiments, but we cannot impose our familiar properties on the atomic world. The difficulty of establishing a unified pattern of events in the submicroscopic realm is great; wave-particle duality is only one example.”[⑦]
The reason elementary particles are called “particles” is that in many respects they can be analogized to the impression of rigid little spheres in the macroscopic world. Yet when we say strange things such as “a particle is also a wave,” “a particle passes through multiple paths at once,” or “the spin number of certain particles means they must turn through two full rotations before returning to their original state,” then ordinary language can no longer make sense of them.
It is clear, then, that analogy also plays an irreplaceable role in scientific language. Analogy of course inevitably brings ambiguity, but without analogy, even if people could “calculate,” they would still be unable to “understand” science.
In philosophy of religion, the problem of analogy, symbol, or metaphor in language has already been widely and deeply discussed by philosophers. Simply put, the issue here is extremely similar to that of scientific language—people inevitably have to use everyday vocabulary to describe God, such as “benevolent father,” “good,” “love,” and so on. None of these descriptions is strict or exact; or rather, describing the transcendent—whether God or elementary particles—in finite discourse is itself a kind of trespass. Yet in order to allow these beings to be in some measure comprehensible to finite human intellect, this trespass is unavoidable. Although people know that light is neither particle nor wave, and that even when it exhibits wave-like behavior it differs from water waves in ordinary experience (for example, it does not require a medium of propagation), we still speak cautiously of “photons” and “light waves,” because we use our language to describe them not merely in order to calculate, but even more in order to understand.
Although the Bible warns people not to try to conquer heaven with human knowledge and not to call upon the name of God directly, people still must speak of God. This is because human beings are, after all, rational creatures; to tear reason and faith apart and set them against one another is hardly the way out for theology. And rather than saying that intellect seeks “knowledge,” it would be better to say that intellect seeks “understanding.”
III
An analogy in itself may not be “knowledge,” yet analogy, symbol, or metaphor is probably indispensable to the construction of knowledge. From the examples of electrons and light waves mentioned above, analogy is important for the advancement of science. On the other hand, the entire scientific system also depends on certain “metaphors.” “Pepper believes that every philosophical system has a core ‘root metaphor’—for example, the world is likened to a ‘machine’ or an ‘organism’; such a ‘root metaphor’ cannot be proven by experience, but it can be compared with other ‘root metaphors’ in terms of adequacy or appropriateness. Any such system embodies important judgments and conveys a ‘landscape of reality’ through its own conceptual categories.”[⑧]
The “root metaphor” of mainstream modern science is the mechanical (that is, physical) view of nature. In fact, the abstract concept of “force” did not exist in ancient times; at most there were meanings such as “power” or “compelling force.” It was only in modern times that “force” became the umbrella term for all the various “interactions,” becoming a mysterious thing that pervades everything and constitutes the entire world. Yet what force actually is, and where it actually comes from, are questions that are difficult to explain or prove further. Newton, as the completer of modern mechanics, was also deeply troubled by the source of “force.” Newton’s famous saying, “I frame no hypotheses,” was uttered precisely in discussions related to the essence of force. Ultimately Newton still had to appeal to God, invoking God to uphold this mechanical world. Later people no longer appealed to God, not because they had solved the mystery of “force”; in fact, people gradually became accustomed to the language system of modern science and forgot the mystery of force. Force became a metaphor at the root of knowledge; in a certain sense, “force” (and its twin brother “matter”) replaced the position of God.
It should be noted that saying that the mechanical worldview is the foundation of modern science does not imply, as in the axioms of Euclidean geometry, that the knowledge system of modern science needs to take certain mechanical principles as the starting point for deduction and derivation. As Wittgenstein said: “Whether a system is based on first principles or whether it is simply developed from them is one thing; the following two cases are also completely different: whether it is like a house built on its lowest wall, or whether it is like a celestial body freely floating in the air above us while we are beginning construction below, although we could also build somewhere else.”[⑨] The mechanical metaphor as the foundation of knowledge refers to the “landscape of reality” it conveys—or, in the common term, the “worldview”; further still, the foundation of knowledge lies in “culture,” or “a form of life.”
In fact, apart from knowledge as systematized as science, any language provides an entire system of knowledge. Knowledge of natural history also appears as a whole set of methods of naming. It is precisely natural history that provides the “conceptual system” people can use. As mentioned earlier, for the same experience, people of different cultures may “experience” it as different events.
Peoples on snowy mountains may have a series of words to describe the different “whites” of snow; the languages of certain African tribes may be able to distinguish even the subtlest differences in the colors of plants, yet be unable to find words for distinguishing red from blue. As Wittgenstein said: “Language is connected with a form of life.”[⑩]
Language is part of human activity, and people always learn language in the course of life. One cannot learn a language merely by means of a dictionary, without first mastering the language. If a language or a system of knowledge is to be understood by people, it is obviously impossible to understand it forever through the mutual interpretation of word by word. At the most fundamental level, understanding language cannot do without “ostensive definition,” that is, pointing to things in life, naming them, and repeating this in different situations.
It is worth mentioning that “naming,” on the surface, directly corresponds a word to a certain class of entities or their properties; yet in fact, the correspondence between word and entity is already the result of a high degree of abstraction, and the reality of such correspondence can only be sought in the kingdom of Ideas. If language always corresponds to certain basic things, then this thing as being probably is not “object—property” either. According to the early Wittgenstein, the world is less the sum of objects than the sum of facts—though this statement is still partial.
Not to mention that concepts not belonging to nouns or adjectives do not directly correspond to a certain class of entities or their properties; even for nominal concepts, if we merely say that they correspond to a certain class of entities, we cannot understand them in any meaningful way. For a noun—for example, “slate”—to be understood, only when it is repeatedly mentioned in certain situations—for example, as shorthand for sentences such as “there is a slate over there” or “pass me the slate”—can a person who has never heard this word before possibly grasp its meaning. Therefore, some commentators’ claim that “in the history of language, sentences appeared before words” is reasonable. As John Macquarrie said: “When an ordinary child or a primitive man says a single word like ‘horse,’ this is actually an elliptical sentence. It means ‘that is a horse,’ or ‘I want to see the horse,’ or some other meaning that can be inferred from the context of the speech, that is, some other meaning inferred from what, as we say, is ‘understood.’ To utter the word ‘horse’ alone, without affirming anything or requesting anything, merely in order to imagine the image of a horse or the concept of a pure equine animal, seems indeed to require a real effort of abstraction.”[11]
Therefore, simply emphasizing that words such as “God” correspond to some reality does not solve any problem. Without analogy and symbol, without a form of life as a basis, a symbol in itself will be utterly meaningless.
IV
What the above discussion aims to say is simply this: all language depends on the form of life of a human community, and is therefore necessarily finite; even the language of science or religion is no exception. As Barbour said: “Scientific language is not a copy of nature but a symbol system; this system is abstract, selective, and deals only with some limited aspects of things for particular purposes.”[12]
Language, as an abstract symbolic system, does not have its meaning in accurately reproducing reality. More importantly, language exists to promote “understanding” — first, human beings’ understanding of things, and more importantly, the transmission of “understanding” between people. This is the fundamental meaning of language. Simply put, language is the medium of communication. As McQuarrie put it: “Speech is significant as far as it successfully illumines or explains the matter spoken about so that it can be understood.”[13]
“The view that regards nouns merely as labels is the result of an abstraction; it concerns itself only with the relation between words and things, without considering the role of words as a medium of communication. Only within the sphere of communication and interpretation existing in a community of discourse does the entire potential background of nouns become active, and the relations of names enter the field of activity within the background of the human existence of those who use them.”[14]
For a Christian, the word “cross” is not merely a noun referring to some instrument of torture; behind it lies an entire set of “stories,” from human original sin to Jesus’ sacrifice. What a Chinese “idiom” contains also always far exceeds the literal meaning of the words, and must always be associated with certain allusions. But these are only extreme examples. In fact, behind any word there are implied enormous background “stories” — either explicit allusions, myths, history, or more hidden culture, custom, worldview, and so on. Any word will bring these backgrounds into play, and can only be understood and used by people within these backgrounds. These backgrounds all belong to the community.
As Barbour said: “All language is learned and used in the context of interpersonal relationships. Language is a means of communication, a function of community. Likewise, discourse language used for specific purposes is the product of specialized communities. These specialized communities have symbolic languages with which to interpret certain aspects of their experience. The types of concepts employed, and the patterns of thought embodied in language, are determined by the assumptions and interests of the community.”[15]
Thus, the differing customs, ideas, and interests of different communities produce diverse linguistic forms, and thereby also produce different forms of knowledge.
Scientific knowledge is established on the form of life of the laboratory. It is based on a worldview of mechanics and mathematics. And the rigor of mathematics and its quantitative character, together with the standardization and repeatability of laboratory life, give scientific knowledge its characteristics of precision and universality. Religious knowledge, by contrast, is established on the form of life of religion, based on a theological worldview. Because theology is characterized by transcendence and sanctity, and because religious life is private and difficult to repeat, religious knowledge has more obvious characteristics of uncertainty and personalization.
That is to say, the reason religious knowledge is somewhat lacking in universality and rigor is not that it is weaker or more inferior than scientific knowledge, but that it results from differences in the basic concerns of scientific life and religious life.
Of course, this does not mean that science and religion, or different religions, are unable to communicate. The diversity of human forms of life supports the plurality of knowledge; yet the similarity of human forms of life makes translation between different languages possible. The fact that language can be translated means that systems of knowledge do after all have common ground, though translation cannot be carried out by a purely logical, mechanical method. After all, in general the commonalities of human forms of life far exceed their differences, so linguistic communication is always possible, and consensus to a certain extent may also be formed.
However, the fundamental meaning of communication is not the pursuit of consensus, but the pursuit of “understanding.” If some people still hope to persuade others further to accept their knowledge or views, what they need to strive for is not merely “seeking consensus.” The key is that the other person, as someone in a different form of life, can never truly, literally accept an assertion under a linguistic system whose concerns are radically different; while recommending that others accept certain assertions, we must also recommend that they accept some of our forms of life.
Braithwaite rightly pointed out: “Religious propositions are neither true nor false, but recommend a way of life. … Religious statements are ‘statements of adherence’ to a way of living, or ways of expressing approval of a course of action.”[16]
However, as Hick reminds us: “In order to provide a distinctive way of life that is both attractive and rational, religious belief must be viewed as statement of fact and not merely imaginative fiction.”[17]
Yet what Braithwaite and Hick both failed to mention is that “true,” “false,” “fact,” “fiction,” and so on, as words, also belong to “language.” Religious belief of course requires that religious knowledge be regarded as statements of “fact”; yet for the other, the understanding of what counts as “fact” may itself be entirely different.
It is worth noting that philosophers such as Kant, Wittgenstein, Heidegger, and others emphasized to people from different angles the limitations of language. Heidegger, for example, stressed that “correctness” is not the same as “truth.” He once pointed out that “technology is a tool of human beings” is entirely correct, yet if one clings to this, one will miss “truth.” We may also say: the view that religion is a form of human culture is “entirely correct”; yet if one sticks to that, one will also miss truth.
“Correctness” depends on the rules internal to a language game, whereas “truth” must transcend language. According to Heidegger, truth is a “process,” a process of some kind of “bringing forth” or “things showing themselves.” In this sense, although “truth” can never be absolutely grasped or possessed by any one person, and still less can it be written down in black and white on paper, “truth” can be touched and “experienced” by people.
Religion seeks truth; religious language, while recommending a way of life, also hopes to lead people toward truth. The two are consistent. Truth will disclose itself to people in the process of life, but it will never be put into anyone’s pocket.
References
[Ian G. Barbour] *Science and Religion*, trans. Ruan Wei et al., Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 1993
[Mac] Peterson et al., *Reason and Religious Belief: An Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion (3rd ed.)*, trans. Sun Yi and You Bin, Beijing, China Renmin University Press, 2005
[John Macquarrie] *Talking about God: An Examination of the Language and Logic of Theology*, trans. An Qingguo, proofread by Gao Shining, Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 1997, 2nd ed.
[John Hick] *God and the Universe of Faiths: Essays in the Philosophy of Religion*, trans. Wang Zhicheng and Zhu Caihong, Beijing, China Renmin University Press, 2006
[John Hick] *Faith and Knowledge*, trans. Chen Zhiping and Wang Zhicheng, Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 2003
[H. Ott] *The Speech of the Unspeakable*, trans. Lin Ke and Zhao Yong, Beijing, SDX Joint Publishing Company, 1994
[Mailer?] Stewart, ed., *Contemporary Western Philosophy of Religion*, trans. Zhou Weichi, Hu Zixin, and Wu Zengding, reviewed by Zhao Dunhua, Beijing, Peking University Press, 2006
John Macquarrie, *Twentieth-Century Religious Thought*, trans. He Bosha and Zhou Tianhe, Beijing, Religious Culture Press, 2006
Wittgenstein, *Philosophical Investigations*, trans. Chen Jiaying, Shanghai, Shanghai People’s Publishing House, 2005
Tu Jiliang, ed., *The Complete Works of Wittgenstein*, Shijiazhuang, Hebei Education Press, 2003
Kant, *Critique of Pure Reason*, trans. Li Qiuling, Beijing, China Renmin University Press, 2004
Kant, *Kant on God and Religion*, ed. and trans. Li Qiuling, China Renmin University Press, 2004
[①] [John Hick] *God and the Universe of Faiths*, trans. Wang Zhicheng and Zhu Caihong, Beijing, China Renmin University Press, 2006, p. 1, p1
[②] [John Hick] *God and the Universe of Faiths*, trans. Wang Zhicheng and Zhu Caihong, Beijing, China Renmin University Press, 2006, p. 17, p18
[③] [John Hick] *Faith and Knowledge*, trans. Chen Zhiping and Wang Zhicheng, Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 2003, p. 28, p26
[④]Kant, *Critique of Pure Reason*, trans. Li Qiuling, Beijing. China Renmin University Press, 2004, [B75]
[⑤] See [M] Klein, *Mathematics: The Loss of Certainty*, trans. Li Hongkui, Changsha, Hunan Science and Technology Press, 2003, p. 203
[⑥] See Zheng Yuxin, *A New Theory of Philosophy of Mathematics*, Nanjing, Jiangsu Education Press, 1990, p. 61
[⑦] [Ian G. Barbour] *Science and Religion*, trans. Ruan Wei et al., Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 1993, p. 358, p284
[⑧] [Ian G. Barbour] *Science and Religion*, trans. Ruan Wei et al., Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 1993, p. 333, p263
[⑨] Tu Jiliang, ed., *The Complete Works of Wittgenstein (Volume 4, “Philosophical Grammar”)*, trans. Cheng Zhimin, Shijiazhuang, Hebei Education Press, 2003, p. 277, §12
[⑩] Tu Jiliang, ed., *The Complete Works of Wittgenstein (Volume 7, “On the Foundations of Mathematics”)*, trans. Xu Youyu and Tu Jiliang, Shijiazhuang, Hebei Education Press, 2003, p. 255, VI§34
[11] [John Macquarrie] *Talking about God*, trans. An Qingguo, proofread by Gao Shining, Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 1997, 2nd ed., p. 77, p85
[12] [Ian G. Barbour] *Science and Religion*, trans. Ruan Wei et al., Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 1993, p. 222, p172
[13] [John Macquarrie] *Talking about God*, trans. An Qingguo, proofread by Gao Shining, Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 1997, 2nd ed., p. 67, p75
[14] [John Macquarrie] *Talking about God*, trans. An Qingguo, proofread by Gao Shining, Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 1997, 2nd ed., p. 82, p90
[15] [Ian G. Barbour] *Science and Religion*, trans. Ruan Wei et al., Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 1993, p. 201, p156
[16] [Ian G. Barbour] *Science and Religion*, trans. Ruan Wei et al., Chengdu, Sichuan People’s Publishing House, 1993, p. 311, p244
[17] [John Hick] *Philosophy of Religion*, trans. He Guanghu, Beijing, SDX Joint Publishing Company, 1988, p. 185
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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