Book Review
Dynamics of Faith. By Paul Tillich. New York:
Harper & Row, 1957. 147 pages.
Reviews by JBH and
SL
[Note: This review references the pagination of the
2001 Perennial Classics version of the original text.]
Dynamics of Faith, along with The Courage
to Be, proves to be one of Paul Tillich’s more
accessible texts for a popular audience without
technical training in theology or philosophy of
religion. Tillich himself seems to have written the
text with such intentions noting in his introductory
remarks that the word “faith” has become so trivialized
and diluted in the public sphere that one may well be
tempted to expunge it from theological discourse
altogether. Against this inclination, Tillich argues
that “there is as yet no substitute expressing the
reality to which the term ‘faith’ points” (xxi). The
aim of the book, then, is to reinterpret and re-situate
this contested term such that readers come to know “the
hidden power of faith within themselves and of the
infinite significance of that to which faith is related”
(xxii).
In the first chapter, Tillich succinctly delineates
his own definition of faith. Put quite simply, faith is
“the state of being ultimately concerned,” the dynamics
of which are “the dynamics of man’s ultimate concern”
(1). While faith may certainly involve rationality and
emotion, for Tillich it transcends them both without
destroying either, thereby overcoming the gap between
subjectivity and objectivity (7, 12). In one of the
more interesting passages of the book Tillich claims
that the holy mysterium tremendum et fascinans —
that which grasps a person ultimately — lies in a
substratum below good and evil, appearing as both
creative and destructive (16ff.). “Our ultimate concern
can destroy us as it can heal us,” Tillich writes,
“[b]ut we never can be without it” (18). Likewise,
faith also involves the risk or wager of existential
courage, i.e., the acceptance of uncertainty within the
element of certainty. Under the conditions of
existential estrangement, the only certainty is
“ultimacy as ultimacy, the infinite passion as infinite
passion” (19).
Chapter two explicates Tillich’s assertions of what
faith is not. Here he explores three primary
distortions of the meaning of faith as the centered act
of being ultimately concerned with one’s whole
personality, i.e., of one’s whole being. For Tillich,
each of these misunderstandings of faith stem from the
tendency to collapse the whole of faith within only one
of the functions that constitute the whole personality
(36). The first and most pervasive distortion of faith
is the penchant to identify or conflate faith as an act
of knowledge with little evidence. When this occurs it
is almost certain that one is referring to cognitive
belief rather than faith itself. The second distortion
assumes and builds upon the first. If faith means
belief with little or no evidence then it must be
supplemented or complemented by a subjective act of the
will. This is what Tillich calls the voluntaristic
distortion of the meaning of faith. In Roman
Catholicism this amounts to an act of the will enabled
by grace and contingent upon assent to the teachings of
the church; in Protestantism the will to believe is also
enabled by grace and is directly connected to personal
piety and moralism. Against these tendencies, Tillich
claims that insofar as it involves the existential
weight of that which is ultimate “no command to believe
and no will to believe can create faith” (44). Finally,
there is the emotionalistic distortion of faith. Rather
than embracing faith as either a matter of the intellect
or the will alone this misunderstanding relegates faith
to the sphere of subjective feeling “without a content
to be known and a demand to be obeyed” (45). For
Tillich, such a view dilutes the potency of religion to
the point that “no claims to truth can be made by it”
(Ibid.).
Chapters three and four outline the symbols of faith
and delineate between different types of faith. Here
Tillich explains that any expression of ultimate concern
must be expressed symbolically “because symbolic
language alone is able to express the ultimate” (47).
God functions as the most fundamental symbol for
ultimate concern. Regardless of whether one accepts or
rejects “God,” the symbol of God is always affirmed
insofar God is a type of shorthand for what concerns
humanity ultimately (52-53). Myths in this view serve
as the language and narrative through which ultimate
symbols are communicated or transmitted. Through symbol
and myth faith is tangibly manifest in the life of the
individual ontologically and morally. Ontologically,
that which grasps a person ultimately is experienced as
being present, here and now, and in the act of faith one
“see[s] in a concrete piece of reality the ultimate
ground and meaning of all reality” (66). Drawing a
distinction once again between the structure of faith
and its determinate content, Tillich claims that this
ontological type of faith is universal, sacramental, and
present in all formal religions. It is “the state of
being grasped by the holy through a special medium” and
not “the belief that something is holy and other
things are not” (67, italics original). Conversely, the
moral type of faith “demands moral obedience,”
conceiving of God as the one who “gives law as a gift
and as a command” (74). Thus, the content of faith is
emphasized over its ontological structure. Because each
type of faith — the ontological and the moral — are
incomplete in themselves, Tillich claims that while one
may certainly gain precedent over the other in the life
of faith, persons should seek to unite both in dynamic,
“mutual participation” so that each might experience the
transcendence of itself through the aid and supplement
of the other (80).
In the final two chapters, Tillich outlines what he
calls the truth of faith, i.e., its relationship to
other disciplines (reason, science, history, and
philosophy, etc.) and the life of faith as the
integration of the totality of one’s personality within
the religious community. For Tillich, faith and reason
are not incompatible nor are they mutually exclusive.
Rather, the latter is the precondition of the former.
Faith is “the act in which reason reaches ecstatically
beyond itself” such that reason rises above its own
finitude within the conditions of subjective existence
(87). Likewise, epistemologically, the truth of faith
is not contradictory to the truth of science, history,
or faith — and vice versa. Since faith is the religious
structure of that which grasps a person ultimately, its
truth cannot be completely confirmed or validated by the
truth of history or science, nor can it be denied.
Faith functions more as an interpretive discourse in
relation to science, history or philosophy; it asks
questions of ultimate meaning and is therefore in no
position to pass judgment upon the validity of
historical investigation or scientific experimentation.
Finally, the life of faith is one marked with various
tensions — between doubt and courage, estrangement and
wholeness, individual and community — and the attempt to
maintain balance such that faith, hope and love are
concretely present within the totality of the human
personality. Faith then, in Tillich’s view, is
eternally present within the life of the human being
insofar as it is the symbolic apprehension of that which
concerns one ultimately (146).
This slim but rich little volume is perhaps the best
introduction to Tillich’s work and his overall
contribution to theology outside of his Systematic
Theology itself. It succinctly and concisely
delineates Tillich’s understanding of the symbol, his
method of correlation, and provides a basic schematic
for his ontology and his doctrine of God. For its time,
Dynamics of Faith stands among works such as H.
Richard Niebuhr’s Christ and Culture in its
attempt to reincorporate religious language and
symbolism within a shifting, so-called “secular”
culture. For his part, Tillich appears to have
succeeded were Niebuhr, and certainly Karl Barth,
failed, i.e., in constructing a theology of culture that
views the world as a text to be exegeted for its latent
yet rich religiosity rather than a monolith to either be
rejected (Barth) or transformed a priori
(Niebuhr). Moreover, in our time, when one of the
fastest growing religious demographics in North America
are those who call themselves “spiritual but not
religious,” Tillich’s broad understanding of faith as
ultimate concern provides an interesting and fecund
basis for theological discourse unrestricted by a rigid
dogmatics.
Its laudable merits notwithstanding, Tillich’s work
in Dynamics of Faith highlights a few issues
which strike to the heart of Tillich’s theological
system, issues which, for some, may not surface without
an intensive study of the system itself. This, too, is
significant insofar as it affords the reader the
opportunity to engage Tillich in a singular volume, to
catch a glimpse into the heart of his immense and
intense theological edifice in an uncharacteristically
crystallized form. The question at hand, however, is
whether a few key problems raised in Dynamics of
Faith are revelatory of Tillich’s own theological
nearsightedness and his indebtedness to the Neoplatonic
tradition. For brevity’s sake, I will only mention the
single problematic here which I believe drives to the
very foundation of Tillich’s entire theological
enterprise. For Tillich, faith involves a fundamental
dynamic between several different sets of existential or
ontological polarities, the culmination of which is best
seen in the difference drawn, though not explicitly in
this work, between existential and essential being.
Within Tillich’s theological system the latter functions
as the original and most fundamental state of reality, a
state in which the conditions of the latter, i.e., of
existential estrangement are once and finally overcome.
Again, though Tillich does not explicate this
distinction in detail in Dynamics of Faith, the
irreducible gap between essence and existence is the
foundation upon which his understanding of faith as
ultimate concern is erected. Indeed, the supposition
that essential being is an actually existing reality
toward which human beings are ontologically driven
enables Tillich to make the claim that the risk of faith
involves the totality of the human personality such
that, in the final instance, the “cleavage between
subject and object” is overcome and the conditions of
“existential disappointment” ultimately conquered (13).
The crucial question here is whether Tillich, despite
all his important work to free Christian theology from
myopic dogmatism, is still tacitly reliant upon a linear
and indeed Neoplatonic theological trajectory still
pervasive in Christianity, even in many
liberal-progressive quarters. This structure unfolds
thusly: humanity and creation initially existed in a
state of perfection from which they are now estranged.
The ultimate telos toward which all creation,
including especially humanity, is oriented is the
restoration of this original, essential state of being.
Whether one interprets this trajectory literally
vis-à-vis the biblical text matters very little if at
all. Tillich certainly does not and for that
theologians can be very grateful. However, it is
unclear, especially in the present text, as to whether
his theological enterprise is buttressed by this linear,
triumphalistic trajectory such that the ultimate
eschatological end involves the final and indeed
terminal realization of essential being over and against
existential estrangement. Insofar as Tillich privileges
the eventual triumph of one side of all the various
ontological and existential polarities in Dynamics of
Faith and elsewhere it would seem that this may be
the case. Would it not be more true to the vicissitudes
of existential reality as such to suggest that the
dynamic between essence and existence is not one of
linearity, but of oscillation? Rather than forcing
experience into a theological structure which seems to
prescribe final reconciliation and restoration a
priori perhaps Tillich’s distinction between essence
and existence might be better interpreted as a true gap
or aporia, one which is never fully overcome or mended
but always remains open as a fissure inscribed into the
heart of reality and the ground of being itself.
Essence may indeed eclipse existence but such a
transfiguration is only momentary, always fleeting and
never final or complete. Thus, these two concepts —
essential being and existential being — would function
not as total opposites on the spectrum of experience but
as symbols of reality which are always implicated in one
another, presenting themselves as inextricable aspects
of human nature, not as phases or stages through which
one progresses straightforwardly. To be fair, there
instances in Dynamics of Faith where Tillich,
whether he realizes it or not, creates the possibility
for such a reading, namely his insistence that faith is
always an act of courage and risk from within the
conditions of existence (19-20ff.). Nevertheless,
Tillich’s Neoplatonic proclivities and his reliance upon
the linear trajectory outlined above cannot be
overlooked. Thus, Tillich’s own conviction that
tradition and the thinkers which form and constitute it
much be met with a constructive “yes” and a critical
“no” must surely be applied to himself.
In sum, Tillich’s Dynamics of Faith, while
assuming some potentially problematic theoretical
background better explicated in his Systematic
Theology, is undoubtedly one of his more accessible
(and successful) works, solidifying his position as one
our last 20th century public theologians.
His recovery of faith as the existential dynamic or
structure of that which apprehends and grasps a person
ultimately regardless of particular form or content is
an important theological achievement in itself. This
combined with his salient discussion of the function of
symbols within theological discourse and religious
experience constitute the enduring legacy of Dynamics
of Faith as a text which aims to crystallize an
intricate, erudite and indeed robust theological system
in a succinct yet compelling manner for the
non-specialist.
[Note: This review references the pagination of the
First Harper Torchbook edition published in 1958.]
In an effort to convince readers of their power and
significance in relation to faith, Paul Tillich, in his
book Dynamics of Faith, redefines and
reinterprets the meaning of the term “faith,” a highly
contested and distorted word in religious language (ix).
From the outset, Tillich defines faith as “the state of
being ultimately concerned” (1). Something that holds
ultimate concern for us must meet two criteria: it must
demand unconditional acceptance of the claim and it must
look forward with “the promise of ultimate fulfillment.”
If the demand is not adhered to, exclusion from the
ultimate fulfillment would result (2).
Tillich moves on to describe faith as a centered act
of the whole individual. It is an act, a conscious
decision largely influenced by the subconscious elements
of an individual’s personality (5). In this regard, it
is a decision in which “both the rational and the
nonrational elements of his being are transcended”. (6)
Thus, the act of faith is ecstatic. It transcends the
rational and nonrational structures of personality to
allow one to “[stand] outside of oneself—without ceasing
to be oneself—with all the elements which are united in
the personal center” (7). This ecstatic element allows
the individual to turn to the most truly ultimate of
concerns, which “unites the subjective and objective
side of the act of faith” (10). Doubt, especially in
existential forms, plays a vital role in relationship to
faith as it serves as the opposite pole in the state of
ultimate concern (22). Doubt requires the individual to
show courage in order to accept doubt as a part of the
existential condition. The expression of faith and doubt
within communities is imperative, for language is
necessary in the development of an individual’s
spiritual life. However, communities of faith must not
be bound by legalistic ties to doctrinal statements of
belief, but rather assert the freedom of faith within
the community (29).
In the second chapter, Tillich addresses what faith
is not. In the intellectualistic distortion of faith,
faith becomes belief rather than the state of being
ultimate concerned (31). He also contests the widely
held conception of faith as “knowledge with a low degree
of probability” (35). A second distortion comes in the
form of “voluntaristic faith.” Here Tillich contradicts
the “will to believe” in which faith is dependent upon
teachings of the church (Catholicism) and morality of
the individual (Protestantism) (36-7). The final
distortion of faith is emotionalistic. For Tillich,
faith is not “a matter of merely subjective emotions,
without a content to be known and a demand to be obeyed”
(39). Through negating these three distortions—faith as
matter of intellect, matter of the will, or matter of
emotion—Tillich reasserts that faith “is a centered act
of the whole personality” (30).
Tillich explains in the third chapter the
relationship between faith and symbols. He asserts, “[An
individual’s] ultimate concern must be expressed
symbolically, because symbolic language alone is able to
express the ultimate” (41). Symbols are different than
signs, and important to theological language, because
they participate in the “reality to which they point”
(42). “God” functions as the primary symbol for ultimate
concern (45). “God is a symbol for God” in that it is
ultimate and has concrete manifestations in “ordinary
experience” (46). Other symbols for ultimate concern are
used with different concrete manifestations from
existential experience (47). Tillich then connects the
concept of symbols to the ways myths are created through
language and narrative to describe “divine-human
encounters” (49).
In the fourth chapter, Tillich describes two types of
faith: ontological and moral. In the ontological type of
faith, an individual’s ultimate concern is manifest in
present and concrete interactions with reality (58).
This “sacramental” character of faith “is the state of
being grasped by the holy through a special medium”
(58). The moral types of faith are largely influenced by
the gift of the law given by God, which “demands moral
obedience” (65). Tillich explains that the structure and
protection of the law make life “possible and
satisfying,” allowing for “continuous actualization” of
the ultimate concern in the existential reality (67). He
sees the two types of faith, ontological and moral, as
both incomplete, and the “mutual participation” of the
two as the “complex, dynamic, and self-transcending”
goal of faith (70).
Tillich’s fifth chapter gives insight into the truth
within the symbols and myths of faith. Reason—understood
as the human capacity that fosters creativity and growth
for humanity within the structures of reality—gives rise
to faith, in which “reason reaches ecstatically beyond
itself” (76). Tillich makes it clear that science and
faith should not interfere with each other, in that
neither can prove nor deny the other; they operate on
different dimensions of meaning (85). In terms of
historical truth, faith can assert that events of
ultimate concern occurred in the past, but cannot assert
the historical truth of any particular events where
ultimate concern is supposedly revealed. Thus, those of
faith are free from the burdens of determining the
veracity of historical occurrences (89). The
relationship between philosophical truth and the truth
of faith are more interconnected, in that elements of
each exist in the other. However, neither determines the
course of the other (95).
Tillich turns in his final chapter to the
manifestation of faith in the life of an individual. He
describes the experience of faith as a “tension between
participation and separation, between the faithful one
and [his or her] ultimate concern” (99). This is most
explicitly experienced through doubt, which is overcome
by courage to assume doubt into the experience of faith
(101). Tillich asserts that the “concern of faith is
identical with the desire of love: reunion with that to
which one belongs and from which one is estranged”
(112). Love serves as the manifestation of the state of
being ultimately concerned within the conditions of
existence.
In this text, written in the same year in which the
second volume of his Systematic Theology (ST)
appeared, Tillich offers a sample of his theology with
an eye toward the non-academic community. Dynamics of
Faith (DF) hits on major theological points from the
ST: ultimate concern, non-being, estrangement, and
tensive polarities, to name a few. While the tone of the
book has a far more popular appeal, Tillich does not shy
away from wrestling with grand theological questions. In
addressing concepts such as creeds in the church, the
role of reason in relation to faith, and the function of
doubt in the life of the faithful, among others, Tillich
serves his audience well by confronting problematic
issues within religious communities.
Several specific points deserve praise in DF. The
first is the nature of Tillich’s definition of faith,
which leaves open the opportunity to define faith in
terms of other religions. In fact, Tillich states in his
discussion of moral types of faith: "The question of
faith is not Moses or Jesus or Mohammed; the question
is: Who expresses most adequately one’s ultimate
concern? The conflict between religions is not a
conflict between forms of belief, but it is a conflict
between expressions of our ultimate concern" (66).
He goes on later to point out that the perspective
from which the discussion is arising will inevitably
produce a response that justifies the ultimate concern
in that perspective (70-71). Tillich acknowledges the
many expressions of ultimate concern that exist in the
world. And while he would assert that Christianity, in
its unified form in ontological and moral faith, would
“fulfill the dynamics of the history of faith in the
past and future” (73), he gives credence to other
manifestations of being ultimately concerned. We have to
wonder if this publication had anything to do with
Tillich’s late-in-life discovery of the veracity of
other faiths, and his later desire to revise the ST with
an eye toward a more religiously inclusive theology.
The second accolade due to Tillich in DF is his
depiction of faith as action in the final chapter. With
references to the third volume of the ST, Tillich lays
out the concept of faith in manageable and practical
ways for the individual. His connection of faith to
love—explicitly in terms of the combination of agape and
eros, which proves to be a fruitful description of his
vision of ultimately concerned love—allows the reader to
get a sense for the direction in which this faith takes
us.
It is along these same lines, however, that Tillich also
should be criticized. His definition of love and its
identification with faith in the final chapter revolves
around, and is predicated upon. the notion of being
separated and estranged from one’s essence. While
someone who has read the second volume of the ST would
know what estrangement entails, those who have not—and
it is assumed that the majority reading this would have
not—would have only a vague idea of what the state of
estrangement means, based on Tillich’s slim description
in DF. Thus, the point of faith, that which is concerned
with what is truly ultimate, and its connection to love,
through reunion from what humanity is separated, would
be lost. While Tillich acknowledges that faith is a
universal component in the human condition, and thus all
individuals experience it, the lack of a specific
explanation of estrangement leaves the action in
Tillich’s conclusion hanging.
While his treatment of estrangement leaves much to be
desired, Tillich gives a compelling reinterpretation and
illumination of faith. He strengthens a term that
carries much baggage throughout the history of religious
understanding, leaving the reader with a renewed sense
of integrity and purpose appropriate to his vision of
faith.
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