I’ve received an e-mail from someone asking for the connection between relativism, subjectivity and Protestant Fundamentalism. Here’s the relevant section of the e-mail:

 

In your talk on education, and addressed in some of your books, you talk about objective thinking verses subjective and relative thinking. Most often people debate the arguments between Christians and secularists, but I have often been curious about the debates between Catholics and other Christians denominations. In regards to being objective, subjective, or relative, how do these apply to the arguments of the Fundamentalists? In Looking into it I found it difficult to specifically accuse them of being subjective or relative, since it seemed so distorted.

 

Here’s my response:

 

Please forgive the scattershot nature of this response to your query about the subjective nature of the reading of Scripture by Protestant fundamentalists. Time does not permit me to respond at length with anything new but I thought I’d cut and paste some pertinent parts of Through Shakespeare’s Eyes in which I address this issue.

From Through Shakespeare’s Eyes:

Yet Bassanio’s words must be seen within the context of the times in which Shakespeare was writing, and must be read in the light of the philosophical backdrop of nominalism and realism which colours the whole of his speech. If this is done, it is clear that Bassano is condemning the implicit nominalism and de facto relativism of the Protestant doctrine of sola scriptura. The inevitable consequence of this doctrine, which was championed by Martin Luther and is a cornerstone of the Reformation, was that Protestant Christians began to read the Bible subjectively, which is to say that they interpreted its meaning in light of their own presuppositions and prejudices, without the requirement of subjecting such subjectivity to the touchstone of objectivity inherent in the teaching authority of the Church. Under the doctrine of sola scriptura the Bible becomes a text disembodied from its context and from the authority inherent in its Author. From a Catholic perspective, the Church, as the Mystical Body of Christ, had stamped its authority on the Bible, editing the scriptures in the light of the Holy Spirit and deciding which of the ancient texts should be incorporated into the divinely sanctioned Book and which were to be omitted. This being so, the truth of scripture, i.e. its objective and authentic meaning, was to be found in the teaching of the Church, in its unique position as the divinely appointed authority sanctioned by the Book’s Author. By contrast, the Protestant doctrine of sola scriptura can be seen as the root and archetype of all forms of subjective reading, even if this was not the intention of its original advocates.

 

Also from Through Shakespeare’s Eyes:

Chesterton’s comparison of Shakespeare with Milton sheds some intriguing light on our present discussion of sola scriptura, indicating that, in Chesterton’s judgment, the former conformed to the objective teaching of the Catholic Church whereas the latter had embraced sola scriptura, employing it with implicit relativism to construct a custom-built or personalized faith. Whereas there is nothing in Shakespeare’s work that indicates non-conformity with the teachings of Catholicism, Milton, in Paradise Lost, renounces the Trinity and relegates Christ to the role of a mere creature created by the Father after the creation of Satan.

It is, therefore, in the context of the heated debate over the consequences of sola scripturathat Bassanio’s words should be judged. From a Catholic perspective, his complaint that “damnèd error” was being approved “with a text” encapsulated the very nub of the Church’s objection to the plethora of subjective interpretations of scripture that had followed in the wake of the Reformation.

 

Also from Through Shakespeare’s Eyes:

In the discussion of the morality or immorality of lending money at interest Shylock quotes from the book of Genesis to justify his actions, thereby rooting the whole issue in the realm of theology. Antonio, unimpressed with Shylock’s argument from Scripture, responds in a way that appears to be an implicit attack on the Protestant new theology of sola scriptura:

Mark you this, Bassanio,

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.

An evil soul producing holy witness

Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,

A goodly apple rotten at the heart.

O what a goodly outside falsehood hath! (1.3.94-99)

This apparent allusion to the contemporary theological divisions between Catholics and Protestants has led several scholars, including Clare Asquith, John Klause, Peter Milward and Velma Richmond, to suggest a metadramatic allegorical dimension whereby Shylock is a thinly-veiled personification of a Puritan and Antonio an equally thinly-veiled personification of a Jesuit.

Finally, a discussion of the difference between objective and subjective reading from an interview I gave a year or so ago:

Although it is true that there is a deep and veritable wealth of good Catholic literature, it is equally true that there is sometimes a cognitive barrier preventing today’s readers from fully appreciating and comprehending the great works of Christian civilization. As T. S. Eliot remarks in “The Hollow Men”, “between the potency and the existence falls the shadow”. A shadow of misperception falls between the power and potential of the work of art and the receptiveness of the reader. For this reason, it is important that readers are aware of the difference between purely recreational reading, what might be called reading for fun, and the objective reading that endeavours to engage the work on its own terms which, in reality, are the terms intended by the author himself. Recreational reading is fine (and fun!) but we need to acknowledge that it is deficient and more often than not defective. It is the literary equivalent of sola scriptura and is as dangerous in terms of the errors that are sometimes its consequence. If we believe that we can fully understand a work of literature purely subjectively, without reference and deference to the author, we are fooling ourselves. At best, such reading is harmless enough, bestowing upon the reader an enjoyable experience and perhaps even an edifying one, albeit somewhat superficial in its grasp of the deepest meaning inherent within the work; at worst, it becomes a narcissistic experience whereby we see our own pride and prejudice reflected back to us, reading meanings into the work that are plainly not there in any integral and objective sense. This literary narcissism has poisoned the academy over the past century or so, transforming works of creative Christian genius into the Frankenstein monsters of Marxist and feminist criticism or subjecting them to the quicksand quagmire of queer theory.

In order to avoid the dangers of subjective reading, I would urge readers to learn how to see a work through the eyes of the author, thus objectifying the reading experience by the perception of it through the eyes of the most authoritative Other.