This turned out to be a very interesting class discussion. I thought the last one was, too, but this one seemed (to me) more fruitful. The major theme that I thought emerged from the discussion was the surprisingly problematic nature of religious diversity -- or, to be more precise about the phrasing, the coexistence in a single society of people or groups with different religious identities, practices, and/or beliefs. Following Diana Eck, it makes sense to argue that religious diversity, or religious pluralism, in the form that most of us are likely to encounter it has a uniquely American quality to it, though, again, exactly what that means in practice is going to be hard to pin down (and it might not be that important a question for the time being). The point is just to remember this: that when we talk about themes like diversity and pluralism, we are not talking about them in some abstract, disembodied, timeless sense; rather, we are talking about them as they exist here and now, locally and immediately, and how they simultaneously both shape and respond to a unique, complex set of social, historical, cultural, political, economic and legal conditions. That's a mouthful. 
Anyhow, that's really just preface. Just a short while ago Mohsin posted another thought-provoking mini-essay on his blog talking about the difficulty of separating out religious principles from irrelevant cultural baggage (for example, the idea that wearing certain types of clothes -- gabardines in the popular style of the eighteenth-century Jewish ghettos of Poland if you're a Hasid, or an Egyptian-style jalibiyya if you are a Muslim traditionalist -- makes you holier). His point is that in America, the fact that religious communities are growing up, in some cases, over generations with only a distant memory of cultural specifics -- styles of dress, foods, customs -- means that religious identity can focus on what he calls "original principles." I'd argue, as he acknowledges, that there is often less agreement than one might think about what gets to count as an original principle, or, more to the point, who gets to decide what counts. My suspicion is that an awful lot of people would assume that the original principles are the nice parts that everyone can agree on, like treating other people decently, honoring God, etc. This is all fine, of course, until people start disagreeing about what that means in practice. For example, do Christian principles imply equality for women? male privilege? economic justice? respect for authority? Such questions don't go away as quickly as one might hope.
Anyhow, though, my goal in writing this post was to work through (1) what of value happened in today's class and (2) what needs to happen next. What was valuable was the opening-up of certain questions as sketched, very briefly, above. What needs to happen next -- that's trickier. First, I need to try to make sure we don't get too far behind, too fast. We need to work through the next batch of materials, the short theoretical essays, in the next class. The key question here, I feel, is this: what do Yearley, Proudfoot, Paden, and Boyer imply for how we ought to seek to understand other people's religious lives? It's easy to miss the fact that they are actually recommending very different approaches and emphases. In order to be able to answer this, I am going to want to be confident that people understand what those authors are actually saying, which might be something of a tall order for people who don't have much experience yet with this kind of material. I see that as I've been writing, Erica posted some interesting and highly relevant thoughts on Yearley, suggesting a connection to a sort of civil religion -- very perceptive, something we'll get into pretty soon with Bellah and Gleason. I guess what I need to do is get people to come to class prepared to talk about the concrete implications of each of these writers for understanding someone else's religion. Imagine you were interviewing someone about their religious views. How would the theoretical positions of each of the four writers discussed here affect your approach to, and your interpretation of, this project?
That's all for now. Bedtime. Way past bedtime, in fact.
Anyhow, that's really just preface. Just a short while ago Mohsin posted another thought-provoking mini-essay on his blog talking about the difficulty of separating out religious principles from irrelevant cultural baggage (for example, the idea that wearing certain types of clothes -- gabardines in the popular style of the eighteenth-century Jewish ghettos of Poland if you're a Hasid, or an Egyptian-style jalibiyya if you are a Muslim traditionalist -- makes you holier). His point is that in America, the fact that religious communities are growing up, in some cases, over generations with only a distant memory of cultural specifics -- styles of dress, foods, customs -- means that religious identity can focus on what he calls "original principles." I'd argue, as he acknowledges, that there is often less agreement than one might think about what gets to count as an original principle, or, more to the point, who gets to decide what counts. My suspicion is that an awful lot of people would assume that the original principles are the nice parts that everyone can agree on, like treating other people decently, honoring God, etc. This is all fine, of course, until people start disagreeing about what that means in practice. For example, do Christian principles imply equality for women? male privilege? economic justice? respect for authority? Such questions don't go away as quickly as one might hope.
Anyhow, though, my goal in writing this post was to work through (1) what of value happened in today's class and (2) what needs to happen next. What was valuable was the opening-up of certain questions as sketched, very briefly, above. What needs to happen next -- that's trickier. First, I need to try to make sure we don't get too far behind, too fast. We need to work through the next batch of materials, the short theoretical essays, in the next class. The key question here, I feel, is this: what do Yearley, Proudfoot, Paden, and Boyer imply for how we ought to seek to understand other people's religious lives? It's easy to miss the fact that they are actually recommending very different approaches and emphases. In order to be able to answer this, I am going to want to be confident that people understand what those authors are actually saying, which might be something of a tall order for people who don't have much experience yet with this kind of material. I see that as I've been writing, Erica posted some interesting and highly relevant thoughts on Yearley, suggesting a connection to a sort of civil religion -- very perceptive, something we'll get into pretty soon with Bellah and Gleason. I guess what I need to do is get people to come to class prepared to talk about the concrete implications of each of these writers for understanding someone else's religion. Imagine you were interviewing someone about their religious views. How would the theoretical positions of each of the four writers discussed here affect your approach to, and your interpretation of, this project?
That's all for now. Bedtime. Way past bedtime, in fact.
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