Is God on a Team?
A philosopher contends that God isn’t on a team—I respond.
A well-known philosopher has recently embraced some form of Christianity (don’t ask me for my thoughts on this; I haven’t looked into it, nor do I plan to), which has sparked a lot of conversation. One response I saw on Facebook came from a philosopher friend—a smart and perfectly nice guy—who reminded everyone that "God is not on a team." To paraphrase (I’ll leave the person unnamed since this sentiment is widely shared): he doubts that God cares about your particular theology or religious identity. Instead, he suggests that what really matters to God is how you act—so, just go out and love the world. His attitude leans toward being more inclusive, less tribalistic, or “team-like.”
What do I make of this sentiment? Well, obviously, it’s some version of religious pluralism, which broadly assumes that all particular religions or religious claims are false, but possibly useful in getting us to act a certain way or grope toward the transcendent. Contrast this with religious particularism—such as Christianity, which claims that God definitively revealed Himself and His purposes particularly and exclusively through the person of Christ, the incarnate Word. (Note: the particularist need not deny that there are truths in other religions, but they claim that their religion—Christianity, in this case—is the actual, full, "true" religion.1 Where certain religious claims clash, the particularist asserts that their position is correct).
There are, of course, sophisticated defenses of religious pluralism (before becoming Catholic I was inclined to this position myself), but I don’t think approaching it this way is particularly fruitful, for several reasons.
First, religious pluralists are—quite obviously—their own team. So, this approach is hardly less team-like or tribalistic than any other (if anything, it’s just better at hiding it initially). To claim that God has no team—that religious pluralism is true—is, in the end, to be just as much of an exclusivist about religious truth as anyone else. The pluralist claims to be on "team truth," while, in their view, the religious particularist is on "team error." I’ve emphasized this before: truth is exclusive, my friends, and we need to accept that. If Islam is true, Christianity is necessarily false; both cannot be true, though both could be false (and something like pluralism or atheism could be true). Either God exists, or God does not exist—there’s no way to accommodate both options. The truth is one way or the other, so either the theist or the atheist is right.
To some of the other points: obviously, what you believe often strongly influences how you act and the kind of person you become, so the two cannot be neatly separated. (For example, what you believe about human zygotes, personhood, human dignity, and competing ethical systems will strongly determine whether you think abortion is morally permissible or a grave sin, which in turn will shape whether you would ever get one or advocate for its legality.) Moreover, the platitude of “just go out and love the world,” with its candy-coated sentimentality, doesn’t tell us much. To love someone is—I would say, anyway—to will their good, and different systems—including religions—have competing ideas about what that good is. If Christianity is true, then it’s loving to evangelize and attempt to facilitate conversion—evangelization is, in fact, commanded by Christ.
Not only that, but one doesn’t need to look far to encounter religious beliefs and, by extension, practices—both past and present—that many would consider deeply immoral, at least according to their system of belief. So, whose beliefs are right and whose are wrong? These are not always easy questions to answer—I believe they are answerable—but they’re matters that can’t simply be glossed over with pleasant sayings. To say that one should just love the world (and that this is all God cares about) assumes—I would hope—a particular code of conduct, which will inevitably include or exclude codes of conduct promoted by other religions. or systems of belief. It also assumes a particular truth about God that many others would strongly reject.
Now, with all that said, there are certain sentiments I share—or at least think I share—with people who hold the attitude I’m responding to. First, I agree that exceedingly tribalistic exchanges are often unproductive, frustrating, annoying, and condescending. Stupid, as well. But just because you’re on a “team”—that is, just because you believe a position is true—doesn’t mean you have to act that way. There are many people firmly committed to various positions, religious or otherwise, who are wonderful listeners, great dialogue partners, and exceedingly gracious people to engage with. I know because I’ve interacted with many of them. So, yeah, don’t be rude or downright dimwitted (if you can help it!!) when it comes to presenting your belief. This is also in the Gospel. St. Peter tells Christians to always be ready to give a reason for their hope, but to do so with gentleness and respect (1 Peter 3:15). That strikes me as the right balance: don’t shy away from stating what you believe is the truth, but also be prepared to defend it in a way that isn’t annoying, insulting, off-putting, or otherwise inappropriate.
If you ask me whether I believe in God, I’ll say that I do. And if you ask me why, I’ll say because I think there are good reasons to, and I’ll try to explain what those are (mostly through philosophy). If you ask me if I think any religion is true, I’ll say that I do. If you ask me which one, I’ll say the Catholic faith. And if you ask me why, again, I’ll say because I think there are good reasons to, and I’ll try to explain what those are (through philosophy, tradition, history, and Scripture). Along the way, I’ll emphasize that these reasons seemed good to me, and I often understand why people see things differently—in fact, I used to see things differently myself—and I’ll try to address those differences in perspective and objections.2
So, right. That’s about it, then: don’t shy away from taking a stance, even a firm stance, on a position you believe is true, even as it necessarily excludes other positions. Just, you know, don’t be a jerk about it if you can help it. Do we really need to say more than that? I mean, in general? If we keep going, then I think we risk swinging from one set of vices—being overly tribalistic, condescending, presumptuous, arrogant, etc.—to another: not committing to much of anything, being inherently wishy-washy, trying to please everyone, and inadvertently displeasing many, while never truly engaging in the struggle to discover, as best we can, what the truth is.
In case the obvious needs to be stated, the Christian answer to whether God is "on a team" depends on what exactly is meant by that. If "being on a team" means that God only likes or loves people who are Christian, that’s obviously silly. God desires that all people be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth, meaning He loves all of humanity and wants everyone for Himself. The idea, rather, is that God has definitively revealed Himself in Christ, and Christ offers the means of salvation.
Moreover, since this concern was and still is important to me, I could emphasize, as a Catholic, that I don’t believe—because the Church doesn’t teach—that anyone who isn’t Catholic is simply going to Hell. The Catholic Church is particularist, yes—she claims to hold the fullness of God’s revelation and means to salvation (CCC 816)—but she also acknowledges that there is much truth and goodness to be found in competing religions. The Church also has much to say about the possibility of salvation through desire, implicit faith, and so on. In other words, it seems to me that Catholicism strikes a nice balance between particularism and inclusivism, if we want to put it that way. But that’s ultimately a conversation for another time, as I’m not intending to make the case for Catholicism here.