T. S. Eliot's Small Boat of Thought
Rent from DeepDyve. . . The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands—The Waste Land, V (1922)
Not fare well,
But fare forward, voyagers.—The Dry Salvages, III (1941)
"The small boat of the thought of many Christians has often been tossed about by these waves—flung from one extreme to another." So Cardinal Ratzinger told his colleagues aboard their truly awesome ship of thought. He defined relativism, for their reflection, as letting go at sea ("letting oneself be 'tossed here and there, carried about by every wind of doctrine'"). The metaphor suggests a voyager who has refused passage on a safe ship, a large craft inured to squalls. This wanderer is weak, perhaps inept, unconsciously self-destructive. Meanwhile, though steadfast, the absolutist is not at rest in port—this "apostle," like the unnamed [End Page 337] wanderer, is on the move, but with purpose and resolve, "enlivened by a holy restlessness: a restlessness to bring everyone the gift of faith." The apostle here is, briefly, any Christian of adequate devotion, including naturally the speaker. Then suddenly, the "we" narrows: "We have received the gift of faith to give it to others—we are priests." Apostles by virtue of Apostolic Succession, these men sail forth to fish for souls, bring them aboard the ship of Christ, protect them from abounding harm. Smaller craft go under. But the Absolute, prepared to rescue them, remains constantly at sea.
Absent the image of "many Christians" rowing their small boats, an eavesdropper on this homily (it was addressed to candidates for the Fisherman's shoes and ring) might assume the homilist was speaking of non-Christians, missionaries, and conversion. For how, after all, could the relativist and Christian be one and the same? Is not "Christian relativist" an oxymoron? And can so "many Christians"—figured as fishermen, in this homily as in the Gospels—be lost at sea?
David Bloor, in this symposium, agrees with what he takes to be Cardinal Ratzinger's understanding of relativism—and of absolutism, its antimatter opposite. "Relativism is epistemological atheism," Bloor writes, "while antirelativism is theology in disguise." All relativist thinking is by definition, on this account, godless; all absolutist thinking is ultimately theological. Going by the logic of images and figuration in this homily, however, it would seem that the present pope shares no such view; and if I understand the philosophical implication of Pope Benedict's view, I must say that, to an extent, I concur in it. The relativists in those small boats of his are Christians, even if ill equipped to navigate profound waters. Hence the homily is saying that relativism is not a stopping place, not a position. It is a metaposition, rather—a position about holding positions. A relativist Christian would presumably be one who holds that the truths of Christianity, in which he or she does believe, are relative to other truths. A Christian of this sort is not necessarily among those who say that religion must "keep up" with the times, must make room for the findings of psychology, biology, or feminist theory. What a relativist holds is that the idea of absolute truth is an incoherent idea and that, therefore, no truths, including those of Christianity, should be regarded as absolute. Many a sophomore has left the church (whichever church) after a class in modern philosophy. But the recondite modern arguments about "truth" as incoherent do not class religious truths as exceptionally incredible. Relativism, if properly defined, and theism are not mutually exclusive. Montaigne's essays give every indication of his having embraced both at once, with no more cognitive dissonance than he wanted to experience.
Aware of such considerations, Joseph Ratzinger nowhere implies that one cannot be simultaneously a relativist and Christian. It is clear that the combination does not appeal to him, and his...
