Christianity as I Have Encountered It
I came into a certain intimate contact with Christianity already in elementary school: the first four years of my primary education were spent at Sichuan South Road Primary School in Shanghai. The campus of that school was extraordinary: an iron-gated entrance with openwork filigree, with the three large characters “天主堂” (“Catholic Church”) engraved on top; beyond the gate was the playground; on the right stood a row of three-story Romanesque buildings of alternating red and gray brick, which were our classroom building; and straight ahead, solemn and stately, was a great cathedral. Although throughout my entire primary-school life I never once entered the church gate, every day I did calisthenics and had classes beneath the church and the cross, and played during recess beside stained glass. Catholicism unquestionably exerted a subtle influence on my growth.
I now know that this was precisely Shanghai Bund’s first Catholic church—St. Joseph’s Church, built around 1849—and that the church school of that time, the “Laisi” Primary School, was founded in 1857 and was not renamed Sichuan South Road Primary School until after it was taken over by the People’s Government in 1953.
But in elementary school I did not know what “Catholicism,” or even what so-called “religion,” actually was; nor did I know what significance the cross on the pointed spire that I looked up at every day during calisthenics had. Yet the feelings I had toward the church back then—solemnity, mystery, intimacy, and so on—are still the feelings I have toward religion today.
By junior high, after undergoing the usual indoctrination that “science = wisdom = progress = good, religion = ignorance = backwardness = bad,” my impression of religion was much the same as everyone else’s. It was not until high school that my impression of religion and Christianity began to change gradually.
In high school I read a great many miscellaneous books, mostly of two kinds: first, history books (mainly various general histories); second, popular science books (mainly on the new physics). Reading history did not initially make me think much better of Christianity. Indeed, however one looks at it, Christianity in history has always been associated with endless strife; in contrast, Islam won more of my sympathy. (Of course, what truly fascinated me most was the near-miraculous civilization of ancient Greece, and one important reason for my admiration for Arab civilization was precisely that it preserved the Greek tradition.) The rise of Arab civilization was astonishing. The expansion of the Islamic world was not as drenched in blood as that of Christian civilization, but its peoples were if anything even more formidable. The Arab empire displayed its tolerance and enlightenment in a particularly distinctive way. If the tolerance of the Chinese empire was a feminine sort of character, then the Arab empire was masculine tolerance… I seem to be wandering off a bit, but for religion, the issue of “tolerance” has from ancient times to the present always been a perplexing problem.
What I read most in high school were popular science books, and the set that influenced me most was The First Push series (the famous A Brief History of Time was one of the less impressive volumes in it), along with several other books on quantum mechanics. These popular science books simultaneously stirred my interest in science, philosophy, and religion. I discovered that many scientists, though not exactly praising religion, also rarely had anything fiercely negative to say about it. I learned that among scientists today there are still quite a few Christians; indeed, the more one goes into the most basic and most “pure” scientific fields such as mathematics and physics, the more Christian believers one finds. For me, after long years of education in the notion that science and religion are irreconcilable enemies, this was unquestionably astonishing. I began to understand that science and religion can not only coexist, but may even promote one another (to be precise, religious feeling promotes scientific exploration).
By the time I entered the philosophy department, I had begun to acquire a more comprehensive understanding of Christianity. At first, I came to understand its significance indirectly, through environmental ethics and philosophy of science:
On the one hand, the Christian tradition’s contempt for “this-worldly existence,” along with the implicit ideas of conquering nature and enslaving nature, are directly related to the rise of modern instrumental rationalism and to modern humanity’s guiltless destruction of the natural ecology. On the other hand, Christianity has also played an important role in contemporary environmental movements: not only have multiple doctrines of “ecological theology” arisen from it, but central figures in environmental movements such as Thoreau, Schweitzer, and Rolston all had profoundly Christian backgrounds.
In philosophy of science, I came to understand the historically complex relationship between science and religion. At the same time, in reflecting on what science actually is, I increasingly discovered the intrinsic common ground between science and religion; perhaps it would not be overstating things to regard science as a very special kind of religion.
Through these indirect contacts, my interest in religion gradually took shape. So I began taking elective courses on religion and reading related books, and came to know more about Christianity. Below, I will give a brief sorting-out of my current, rather superficial understanding of Christianity:
Christianity as I Understand It
Christianity, as the name suggests, is centered on “Christ.”
Who is Christ? Again, as the name suggests, he is the “savior.”
Thus, Christianity is precisely a religion organized around the theme of “the Lord Jesus Christ’s salvation of the world.”
Broadly speaking, all religions contain the meaning of “salvation,” because religion is always meant to guide people out of the secular world. But Christianity alone embodies the theme of “salvation” most completely.
Once one speaks of salvation, several layers of meaning are already implied: human beings are in a dangerous or mistaken condition, and external force is needed to pull humanity out of the abyss; the savior stands above the one saved, and bestows salvation as grace…
By comparison, some religions do not emphasize that human life in this world is sinful or in need of transcendence; they merely provide sacralized explanations for the real world and social order. Other religions (such as Eastern religions), though they also stress the need to transcend this world, place more emphasis on inner power—that is, on individual inner cultivation. The significance of those gods, Buddhas, or sages is more often simply to reveal truth to the world; once people have recognized truth, they can wholly attain transcendence through their own conduct. But Jesus Christ is not merely an instructor or a mighty being. Without Jesus, and relying only on one’s own efforts, salvation is absolutely impossible; this is one of Christianity’s major characteristics.
The absolute distinction between savior and saved also reflects the Christian division between God and human beings. In Eastern religions, anyone can become a Buddha, an immortal, or a sage, because what is supreme is the “dharma,” the “Dao,” or “principle,” and the sacred is merely the one who comprehends, masters, and reveals truth. In Christianity, however, what is supreme is God, and truth is identical with God, nothing but God’s “word.” Human beings, no matter what, can never be compared with God.
In sharp contrast to the preaching of Eastern religions, Christ did not come to transmit “truth,” but to spread “the gospel.” The so-called “gospel” means “good news.” That is to say, Christianity does not especially emphasize teaching people the rules of spiritual cultivation, because cultivation by itself cannot save one. In reality, human salvation does not come from our own cultivation, but from Christ’s sacrifice; people need only know this one piece of good news: “we have been saved.”
This is the meaning of Paul’s “justification by faith” in the Epistle to the Romans. First, the word is “justify” rather than “become,” precisely to express the absolute distinction between God and human beings: no one can become righteous by virtue of his own cultivation; God’s authority is supreme, and the standard by which one counts as righteous cannot exist beyond God, therefore only God has the right to “justify” someone as righteous. Second, justification is based neither on knowledge nor on action, but on “faith.” Because salvation is one-way, the one being saved need not do more. To be justified is to receive grace “freely” (Romans 3:24); one need only give thanks and accept Christ’s salvation.
Although the essence of Christianity may be said to be “I am saved if and only if I believe that I am saved,” in concrete terms it is of course not that simple; otherwise any kind of religious cultivation would be unnecessary. In Christianity, cultivation is a process of “from faith to faith” (Romans 1:17): faith is both premise and goal, and the ultimate meaning of the entire cultivation process lies precisely in strengthening faith. Moreover, religion is always related to morality or ethics. Christ is certainly not a moral teacher, but Christianity, no doubt like other religions, exhorts people to do good. Only, in Christianity, doing good is also subordinate to faith; doing good is precisely the manifestation of faith. As Romans says, even if Gentiles do not know the law, some of them adhere to “their own law,” obey the “sense of right and wrong” in “nature,” and thus do what accords with the law, because “the work of the law is written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness” (Romans 2:14–15). In other words, God did not merely reveal the law to Moses; he had already inscribed the law in everyone’s heart. Thus, the devout should unquestionably also believe in the moral law within the heart; how could one who disregards, or even desecrates, the moral law be a believer?
Here I should mention in passing that I especially favor Kant’s philosophy and theology. Kant places morality “before” religion, but not “above” it. Kant did not downgrade Jesus into a moral instructor; on the contrary, he raised morality to the level of religion and bestowed religious sacredness upon morality. In addition, although often regarded as a subverter of tradition, Kant, as a Catholic, still emphasized the significance of the church. It is just that Kant believed that normative prayer and church ritual “have only methodological value.” For believers, the church’s duty and role are “to stimulate his spirit of earnestness, so that he takes the initiative to revere God and follow his own duty, that is, to follow God’s commandments.” (See Kant’s letter to Christian Heinrich Wolke, March 28, 1776)
Although Christianity’s entire doctrine can be summarized in the single sentence “believe in Christ,” that is, “believe in the savior,” “believe in salvation,” it contains much more within it. For example, first comes belief in the Lord as savior; second, once one believes in salvation, one must also believe that human beings are sinful. Christianity’s salvation does not merely mean freeing humanity from suffering; more precisely, Christianity’s “salvation” refers to “redemption,” to atoning for one’s sins on another’s behalf. Third, to believe in salvation also means to believe in the other world. Since we are lifted up out of the mire, it is also to ascend into another world and obtain a new life—that is the kingdom of heaven, eternal life. Belief in “God,” “sin,” “the kingdom of heaven,” and “eternal life” are all contained within “believe in Christ.”
“Sin” was committed by Adam; that is, Adam and Eve’s disobedience to God’s command. At the same time, it is precisely sin that caused human beings to descend into the mortal world. Sin is the precondition for human beings becoming human beings; hence it is called “original sin,” meaning that anyone who is human is fated to be sinful. What does this mean? We see that in Genesis, because Adam and Eve ate from the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, their eyes were opened, they knew that they were naked, and they covered themselves with fig leaves. When God discovered that they understood shame, he knew that they had eaten the fruit of wisdom and discerned good and evil, and therefore punished them by casting them down into the mortal world to become human beings… Here, the four concepts of discerning good and evil, wisdom, shame, and human being are linked together! Genesis reveals to us that precisely because one discerns good and evil, wisdom comes into being; because wisdom comes into being, one understands shame; because one knows to cover oneself, human beings become human beings.
Discerning good and evil is part of what it means to possess wisdom, while understanding shame is the sign of possessing wisdom. Human beings began to feel shame for their own flesh and desires—and therefore covered themselves with fig leaves (Genesis 3:7)—and came to recognize their own disobedience—and therefore, upon hearing God, ran into the trees to hide (Genesis 3:8)—because human beings had obtained divinity: “you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:6). This also caused human beings to be expelled from God’s side and gain independence.
Thus Christianity reveals to people that the sense of right and wrong, the sense of good and evil, is the beginning of humanity (this is similar to Mencius’s teaching). The sense of good and evil itself is not sin, but it allows people to know sin. Human beings should not despise the inborn sense of right and wrong; after all, discerning good and evil belongs to both humanity and divinity. What Christianity calls “atonement” and “repentance” certainly does not mean teaching people to abandon the sense of right and wrong, but rather to transcend the self on the premise of having obtained that sense. “Repentance” means “returning to God’s side,” but that does not mean returning to the state of Adam and Eve in Eden. Note that Adam and Eve in Eden were still mortal; the reason they did not die was that they depended on the “fruit of the tree of life” in the garden (Genesis 3:22). Only by completely freeing oneself from material dependence can one be immortal. Therefore, for humanity to seek immortality, it must necessarily undergo the baptism of sin; it must pass through “death,” sacrifice the flesh, and only then can it transcend the body and obtain eternal life—something Jesus Christ personally demonstrated to the world.
The immortal is absolute freedom, freed from all restraints. In Eden, however, Adam and Eve had no awareness or self-awareness of the self, of good and evil; they did not understand what choice meant, and freedom could not be spoken of. But to obtain freedom, the first step is precisely disobedience: when Adam and Eve faced God’s command and the serpent’s temptation, two opposing opinions, and made the choice of disobedience, that was the first freely made decision in human history. If from beginning to end there were only simple obedience, there would be no “freedom.” Yet in the end human beings still must obey God and thus return to God’s side. But this final obedience is different from the initial obedience. Human beings, having gained freedom through sin, acquire the capacity for autonomous choice—will one continue to fall, or repent and return to God’s side? At this point, if one chooses repentance and once again obeys God, that obedience is no longer due to ignorance or constraint, but due to freedom; only thus can one obtain eternal freedom, which is “eternal life.” The “not dying,” the “living forever,” of Adam and Eve in Eden was not eternal life; it was only eternal ignorance and eternal bondage. Therefore, the reason why the all-knowing, all-powerful God tacitly permitted the serpent’s temptation was precisely to fulfill human freedom.
Of course, all discussion can only proceed on the premise that “God exists” and “immortality exists.” Proofs of God’s existence have long been one of theology’s themes. Yet as Kant pointed out, the ontological, cosmological, and physico-theological proofs are all unsuccessful. So how could the existence of God possibly be proved?
In fact, God’s existence does not need to be proved. The death and resurrection of Jesus Christ manifest God’s power, but this is meant to manifest the existence of redemption, not to prove the existence of God. People should have already known of God’s existence: “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible attributes, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, so that people are without excuse” (Romans 1:20). Here Paul seems to be referring to some sort of natural-theological argument, but in fact “the things that are made” include not only nature, but also human beings themselves, including the moral law in the human heart. Following the moral commandment, everyone needs and is obliged to promote the highest good; and as Kant points out, a person who is moral and at the same time sufficiently rational must inevitably turn toward religion. For only by believing in God and immortality as “the two postulates of practical reason” (Critique of Practical Reason, Book II, Chapter II, 4) can the highest good as an end become possible, and only then can people claim to be “free.” “If we do not view the world and ourselves in this way, then in moral matters we shall fall into contradiction and irrationality.” (Garrett Thomson, Kant, Zhonghua Book Company, p. 107) — “Our duty is to promote the highest good, and thus we not only have the right, but also the necessity, bound up with this duty as a need, to presuppose the possibility of this highest good as a premise; since the highest good can occur only under the condition of God’s existence, it inseparably connects this presupposition with duty, that is, it is morally necessary to assume the existence of God.” (Critique of Practical Reason, p. 144)
Moral philosophy can tell people only “What ought to be done?” The third basic question faced by Kant’s philosophy—after I have done what I ought to do, “What may I hope for?”—requires religion to answer. Kant believed that we may hope for happiness; however, only when the moral desire to promote the highest good is awakened, “and after it has taken a step toward religion for the sake of this desire, can this ethical doctrine also be called a doctrine of happiness, because hope for happiness begins only from religion.” (Critique of Practical Reason, p. 150)
Kant points out that an honest person who does not believe in God and the afterlife may indeed, under the guidance of the sacred moral law within, “promote the good selflessly,” but his efforts are limited, because he cannot transform the moral imperative in his nature into rational ethical maxims. Moreover, this real secular world is cold and merciless: “violence and envy will always rage around him”; “and those honest people he encounters outside himself, however worthy they may be of happiness, are nevertheless, because of uncaring nature, still subject like all other animals on earth to poverty, illness, and premature death, and all such misfortunes, and will remain so until a vast grave swallows them all up (where, whether one is upright or not, it makes no difference).” Thus, if this good person wishes both to continue doing good and not to deny his own reason—that is, not to blindly obey the summons of the inner law and thereby deny that he possesses “freedom”—then, in practical terms, he must “assume the existence of a moral world-creator, that is, assume the existence of God: he may certainly make this assumption, because at the very least it is not self-contradictory in itself.” (Critique of Judgment, §87)
To say that practical reason needs postulates is not some extreme claim. In fact, theoretical reason also requires “postulates.” Postulates are basic tenets that are difficult to prove and no longer need proof. The postulates of theoretical reason become the core of science; all scientific discussion must proceed on the basis of these irreducible basic tenets. Similarly, religion may be organized around the postulates of practical reason. Practical reason cannot be reduced to theoretical reason, because in all the derivations of theoretical reason one can never obtain the word “ought”; therefore practical reason itself must also need irreducible basic tenets, and these are God, immortality, and freedom.
For a person who is faithful to the moral commandment and yet longs for freedom, only faith in God and immortality can ensure that one has hope even unto death. The Bible is precisely meant to enable people “to have hope” (Romans 15:4). Fundamentally speaking, religion neither provides knowledge nor ethics; rather, it provides “hope.”
December 6, 2006
Christianity as I Ideally Conceive It
Moltmann points out: “The crisis of the modern world, which has arisen mainly under Western influence, is not merely a crisis of technology and morality, but also a crisis of religion. But what I mean is the crisis of the basic beliefs and values of modern society.” (Moltmann: *God in Creation*, SDX Joint Publishing Company, p. 22 [preface to the Chinese translation])
In modern times, in the industrial age and even in the information age, the earth has become smaller and smaller, yet the distance between people has grown farther and farther; the number of species people recognize is greater than at any previous time, but species extinction is occurring faster than ever before; people work harder than in any earlier era, yet understand the purpose of labor less than ever; people’s lifespans are longer than in any previous era, yet the meaning of living is less clear than ever; people are more capable than in any previous era of exploring the essence of matter, yet understand human nature less than ever……
People are laboring over something, and they also know how to do it, yet they have forgotten why they do it; exploration and labor have lost their original meaning, yet they continue on as a kind of habit…… To use a simple analogy: medicine has meaning, and its meaning is to cure illness. When one uses medicine in order to treat some disease—that is, for the sake of some goal—its value is brought into play. But if one forgets the purpose of using medicine and uses it merely out of habit, for the sake of medicine itself, then medicine becomes a drug, causing one to lose oneself and fall deeply into it, unable to extricate oneself. Modern technology likewise continues to explore nature, and the modern economy continues to pursue productivity, but they have forgotten why! “Exploration” and “development” are by no means problems in themselves; the problem lies in people’s attitude and spirit! As Moscovici said, “If one day our civilization no longer believes in the essence of reason, yet preserves its formal use, like a person who has lost faith in what he is doing and simply continues out of habit, then once such a situation arises, everything created by human civilization will in turn become destructive. No matter how perfect the equations created by Einstein may be, in the end they will also endanger life on earth.” (Moscovici: *The Enchantment of the Natural World Restored*, SDX Joint Publishing Company, p. 27)
The above passages are directly quoted from a paper I wrote more than a year ago; I only want to reiterate one view: modern society is facing a crisis of belief, and in such a situation, the role religion will play is crucial. As Whitehead put it, the future direction of human history will depend on how modern people view the relationship between science and religion.
Religion is certainly dangerous; it can drive people mad, and it may provoke hatred and bring about conflict. But is technology not dangerous as well? The weapons of mass destruction brought about by technology, the severe destruction of the ecological environment, abnormal climate, frequent disasters, species extinction, the ravages of new diseases, human alienation…… How much less dangerous are these, compared with the dangers brought by religion?
People can see that the conflict between Christianity and Islam continues to this day, but on the other hand, is the turmoil in the Arab world not more a result of “oil”? Isn’t the bloodshed involved in the development of industrial civilization and the technological age itself already enough?
In an age when the power of technology expands without limit, religion’s strength is long gone. Perhaps this is precisely the time for religion to further purge itself of violence and bloodshed and to give greater play to its peaceful and tolerant side.
Christianity is undoubtedly the most influential religion today, and also the most mature religion, whether in terms of doctrine, dogma, and theology, or in terms of church, systems, and institutions. Christianity ought to set an example for how religion in the new era should play a role in society.
However, I am not trying to advocate some slogan like “Christianity must keep pace with the times.” On the contrary, I oppose this slogan! Religion ought not to be “progressive” in the first place; it should more properly play a “conservative” role. Our age has been far too thoroughly intoxicated by “forward, forward, and forward again”; those who stop and think are mocked and cast aside. People only know how to keep moving ahead, at most occasionally looking back to sneer at the ignorance and backwardness of the ancients, and to flaunt their own brilliance and advancement……
Especially in China, it is now hard to imagine—could “conservative” possibly not be a pejorative term? I remember that in high school, when the class discussed the meaning of left and right, the teacher explained that the right wing meant “conservatives,” and nearly all the students found it incomprehensible: why would there be so many “right-wing” parties abroad? How could conservative parties possibly have supporters?…… We are precisely suffering from a collective childishness.
Because modern people have already abandoned “hope,” and know only how to measure value with numbers and quantities, thus, in any case—more is better, higher is better, more forward is better…… But Christianity absolutely must not be led by this restless way of thinking. Christianity is meant to establish values, not to revise doctrine in order to cater to the values of consumerism.
Christianity of course must keep up with the times—it must face the new problems and new challenges of this era. Reinterpretations of doctrine and dogma are of course always underway, but this is in order to “respond to” the new era, not to “cater to” it.
December 7, 2006
Latest Comments
Ding Ding
2006-12-07 10:05:51 [Reply]
Fundamentally speaking, religion does not provide knowledge; nor does it provide ethics, but rather it provides “hope.” I very much agree with this statement.
But this hope must be founded on faith, and it likewise cannot withstand rational scrutiny; how are we to trust something that cannot be clearly explained? Yet what can truly be seen through by human reason, in fact, cannot transcend human nature to give people hope either. It is a bit like trying to lift yourself up with one hand.
Gu
2006-12-07 11:10:29 [Reply]
Indeed, saying that hope cannot withstand rational scrutiny is true, but what does “reason” mean here? In the present day, what ordinary people understand as “reason” has been confined to theoretical reason, or rather, a variant of theoretical reason: technical reason. As for practical reason, it has also been reduced to technical reason, that is, “seeking advantage and avoiding harm.” For example, the rational person in economics is: choose A and get 100 yuan, choose B and get 10 yuan; a rational person will choose A. But if there is no element of “hope,” then this kind of “reason” itself cannot withstand scrutiny—what, after all, is the pursuit of more money or more benefit for?
For instance, ask someone, “Why do you run?” If he clearly and explicitly gives an answer, such as “to exercise,” “to get to class on time,” and so on, then the act of running may be said to be his rational choice; conversely, if he answers, “I don’t know why I’m running, I’m just running, with no purpose, anyway I’m just running……,” then we will judge that his running is not the result of a rational choice. If a person does every single thing in such a vague and muddled way, it even suggests a kind of nervous derangement.
But if the purpose of “I run” is “to get to class on time,” we can further ask, “What is getting to class on time for?” The answer may be “to not miss the lecture”; ask again, “What is listening to lectures for?” The answer may be “to pass the exam”; and the purpose of the exam is to graduate successfully, the purpose of graduating is to find a job, the purpose of finding a job is to make money, the purpose of making money is to get married and support a family, and so on and so on.
But this line of questioning cannot go on endlessly; if a person’s practical reason is to withstand scrutiny, it will inevitably have to appeal to some “ultimate concern,” or, in other words, the final “hope.” Therefore, before using reason to “scrutinize” hope, one should be clear-minded: if hope is abandoned, reason itself cannot withstand scrutiny—how can one then speak of scrutinizing anything else?
unic
2006-12-07 20:03:52 [Reply]
“Therefore, before using reason to ‘scrutinize’ hope, one should be clear-minded: if hope is abandoned, reason itself cannot withstand scrutiny—how can one then speak of scrutinizing anything else? ”
Can this reason be thought about from both microscopic and macroscopic perspectives?
Gu
2006-12-07 21:58:26 [Reply]
There are ways of dividing reason into speculative reason and practical reason, and into ontological reason and technical reason, but I have never heard of dividing it into macro and micro—this…… is not economics…… Do you mean that technical reason is aimed at “micro” behavior? You can try explaining your wording~~
Gu
2006-12-11 10:15:24 [Reply]
Today’s WF class made me realize a mistake: Kant should have been a Protestant rather than a Catholic. But strangely enough, I clearly remember seeing in some book before that Kant was a Catholic; when I first saw it, I even found it a bit odd and stared at it for a while to make sure I wasn’t seeing things…… Could it be that senility has already reached such a degree……
But in terms of thought, it really doesn’t matter where Kant is classified. Kant did in fact continue the Protestant critique of religious tradition and ecclesiastical authority, but his opposition to some of the major tendencies within Protestantism was equally intense. An interpretation of Kant from a Catholic standpoint is also entirely feasible. Just as Kant synthesized empiricism and rationalism, Kant does not belong to any one school; he himself is a basin that gathers waters.
Ding Ding
2006-12-20 08:57:31 [Reply]
Using the scrutiny method above, even Solomon would only arrive at vanity. If one relies on God, one will have incomparable courage and boundless power (if God exists and is loving), and even if not, for human beings themselves, the heart is the source of strength. Finding likewise an impeccable and immovable thing to deceive oneself with can also lead one to achieve fruition. But I always feel that in that way something of a human touch is missing; I always hope that human beings can rely on what is called wisdom to establish a hope they will possess for life.
But this hope must be founded on faith, and it likewise cannot withstand rational scrutiny; how are we to trust something that cannot be clearly explained? Yet what can truly be seen through by human reason, in fact, cannot transcend human nature to give people hope either. It is a bit like trying to lift yourself up with one hand.
Gu
For instance, ask someone, “Why do you run?” If he clearly and explicitly gives an answer, such as “to exercise,” “to get to class on time,” and so on, then the act of running may be said to be his rational choice; conversely, if he answers, “I don’t know why I’m running, I’m just running, with no purpose, anyway I’m just running……,” then we will judge that his running is not the result of a rational choice. If a person does every single thing in such a vague and muddled way, it even suggests a kind of nervous derangement.
But if the purpose of “I run” is “to get to class on time,” we can further ask, “What is getting to class on time for?” The answer may be “to not miss the lecture”; ask again, “What is listening to lectures for?” The answer may be “to pass the exam”; and the purpose of the exam is to graduate successfully, the purpose of graduating is to find a job, the purpose of finding a job is to make money, the purpose of making money is to get married and support a family, and so on and so on.
But this line of questioning cannot go on endlessly; if a person’s practical reason is to withstand scrutiny, it will inevitably have to appeal to some “ultimate concern,” or, in other words, the final “hope.” Therefore, before using reason to “scrutinize” hope, one should be clear-minded: if hope is abandoned, reason itself cannot withstand scrutiny—how can one then speak of scrutinizing anything else?
unic
Can this reason be thought about from both microscopic and macroscopic perspectives?
Gu
Gu
But in terms of thought, it really doesn’t matter where Kant is classified. Kant did in fact continue the Protestant critique of religious tradition and ecclesiastical authority, but his opposition to some of the major tendencies within Protestantism was equally intense. An interpretation of Kant from a Catholic standpoint is also entirely feasible. Just as Kant synthesized empiricism and rationalism, Kant does not belong to any one school; he himself is a basin that gathers waters.
Ding Ding
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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