end p.474
child of the Enlightenment, disavowing out of one side of his mouth its illegitimate claim
to intellectual hegemony over anything bearing the marks of tradition, particularity, and
historical contingency, while out of the other side insisting on maintaining monopoly
rights for philosophy as pure reason? No wonder Jean-Luc Marion (1991) complains so
bitterly. Heidegger would free theology from the clutches of metaphysics (read: Cartesian
modernity) only to impose on it a thralldom just as pagan and idolatrous (25–107).
Without questioning the force of Marion's critique, two points can be made in
Heidegger's defense. First, he says that although it belongs to the essence of philosophy
to serve as this ontological corrective for all the other ontic, positive sciences, this is not
true in the case of theology. Heidegger does not say why, but perhaps the reason is the
relation of theology to revelation and faith, which distinguishes it from the other sciences
and makes its autonomy vis-à-vis philosophy unique. In any case, the demand that
philosophy must serve as a corrective to theology “is not made by philosophy as such but
rather by theology” (1998, 53). In other words, it is for theological reasons that theology
turns to philosophy for “correction.”
But what might these reasons be? This second point is crucial. Ontology “functions only
as a corrective to the ontic, and in particular pre-Christian, meanings of basic
theological concepts” (1998, 52–53). According to Heidegger's hermeneutics, every
interpretation is guided by preunderstanding. Thus, the Christian theologian, who hasn't
dropped straight down from heaven, brings to the task of interpreting the Christian faith
presuppositions from “pre-Christian” sources, some of which may be quite pagan or
secular. Examples might include the impact of Greek philosophy or scientific rationalism
or materialistic consumerism on the culture in which the theologian has been socialized.
In focusing especially on the way these pre-Christian (if not purely rational) ideas have
found their way into theological thinking, Heidegger suggests that theologians might
want all the help they can get in weeding out the ways secular presuppositions may have
distorted their interpretations. Read this way, Heideggerian ontology does not dictate the
language theologians must use but offers a tool they can use when and insofar as they
find it useful by their own criteria.
But Heidegger himself keeps us from becoming too irenic about the relationship. The
theologian is inspired by faith and in the service of faith, which is “the mortal enemy of
the form of existence which is an essential part of philosophy” insofar as there is a
fundamental opposition “between faithfulness and a human's free appropriation of his
whole Dasein” (1998, 53). Once again Heidegger identifies with the Enlightenment and
its aspiration toward the autonomy of human thought. Theology should be aware of the
danger of turning to Heidegger for help. It is like going to the Philistines to sharpen one's
tools (1 Samuel 13:19–22) or, to use an example more popular with spiritual writers, like
plundering the Egyptians (Exodus 12:33–36). Some of the jewelry given to the Israelites
doubtless ended up adorning the tabernacle, but some if it ended up as the golden calf
(Exodus 32)!