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The Mystery of Evil: Benedict Xvi and the End of Days by Giorgio Agamben, translated by Adam Kotsko, Stanford University Press, Stanford, 2017, pp. xi + 69, £12.99, pbk - The Prince of This World by Adam Kotsko, Stanford University Press, Stanford, 2017, pp. ix + 225, £15.35, pbk

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The Mystery of Evil: Benedict Xvi and the End of Days by Giorgio Agamben, translated by Adam Kotsko, Stanford University Press, Stanford, 2017, pp. xi + 69, £12.99, pbk

The Prince of This World by Adam Kotsko, Stanford University Press, Stanford, 2017, pp. ix + 225, £15.35, pbk

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  01 January 2024

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Abstract

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Copyright © 2019 Provincial Council of the English Province of the Order of Preachers

For a long time it seemed that there were two ways in which one could do political theology. Either, one subscribed to Carl Schmitt's sociology of juristic concepts that held that every significant concept of modern political theory is a secularised theological concept (1922), or one started from the theological end, by saying that Political Theology analyses and criticises political arrangements from the perspective of differing interpretations about God's ways with the world (Cavanaugh/Scott, 2004). However, in recent years the Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben has introduced a new way of doing political theology in which both strands seem to merge. It started with his widely acclaimed Homo Sacer-series, in which Agamben explored the problem of power and (political) ethics in a world that seems to have lost its previous religious, metaphysical, and cultural grounding. In the margins of that series he produced some more overtly theological works like The Time that Remains (2005), The Church and the Kingdom (2012), and Pilate and Jesus (2015). Agamben's latest contribution: The Mystery of Evil: Benedict XVI and the End of Days fits within the more openly theological strand of his work. In it Agamben tries to understand Pope Benedict XVI's decision in 2013 to resign from the papacy, by situating this resignation in the theological and ecclesiastical discussions on the katechon, the power that holds back the end of days. Most of Agamben's work has been translated into English by Adam Kotsko, assistant professor of Humanities at Shimer College in Chicago. Recently, Kotsko produced The Prince of this World, a discussion of the challenge to reconcile three apparently incompatible propositions: God is all-good, God is all-powerful, and evil happens. The book is an impressive archaeology of the emergence and development of the devil in theological thinking, and how this figure has remained with us in our ostensibly secular age. What links both books is the authors' fascination with the Eschaton and its delay.

What makes both books interesting for theologians? Both books are, as Kotsko is ready to admit (pp. 8–9), not works that develop a constructive theological position. Nor are they extensive scholarly genealogies of the phenomena that they study, although Agamben has certainly proven his skills in that field (see: The Kingdom and the Glory, 2011). In fact, what we are seeing here is how philosophers are using theology as an experimental laboratory in which they pursue an idea. But they are doing so unhindered, in a way, by theology itself. They are constructing new narratives, claiming that these have always been hiding in plain sight (Kotsko, p. 14).

This method is not unproblematic. Kotsko acknowledges that he does not attempt to position his argument in terms of existing literature on the study of evil (p. 14). In other words, whatever (modern) theology has come up with, it does not really matter. What matters is the treasure trove of materials that can, and are being used, at will. In a way, we can see the same thing happening in Agamben's argument on the resignation of Pope Benedict XVI. This argument hinges on an early theological work on the Eschaton (1956) by the thirty-year-old theologian Joseph Ratzinger, as the key to unlock the mystery of his resignation as Pope. But Agamben then ignores the fundamental role of eschatology in all of Ratzinger's later thought, stating instead, citing Troeltsch, that the Church closed its eschatological office some time ago (Agamben, p. 13). Benedict's resignation is, according to Agamben, a decisive crisis that brings to light the paradox of the Church that, from an eschatological point of view, must renounce the world, but it cannot do this, because, from the view of its governance, it is of the world, which it cannot renounce without renouncing itself (p. 16). Be that as it may, Benedict's own reasons seem to have been less dramatic, as can be read in Peter Seewald's interview Last Testament (2017).

The underlying problem of both works is not that they mine theology for data, although one could raise the question here whether there is a serious risk of cum hoc ergo propter hoc? And I am also not too worried by both Agamben's and Kotsko's focus on the mysterium iniquitatis instead of on salvation history or, more popular in recent times, mercy. Theologians of any school can agree that it is important to think about evil, judgement, the end of time, and the time of the end. But what is problematic here is the apparent lack of sensitivity or active awareness in both authors of the importance of the Nexus Mysteriorum. This principle, formulated by the First Vatican Council (1869-1870), recommended theologians to see the connection of the mysteries of faith with one another and with the Eschaton. It is against this horizon that we can understand individual elements of the theological treasure trove. Honouring the Nexus Mysteriorum could have prevented some of the more wild speculations in both works, because seeing the connections between the various ‘treasures’ that the authors find, would have prevented them from presenting a ‘part’ as representing the whole.

Nevertheless, serious (political) theologians should engage with Agamben and Kotsko. Firstly, because they open up the Christian theological tradition to a new, secularised, public. The chances are that the little theology non-religious political thinkers will have in future, is more influenced by people like Kotsko and Agamben then anyone else. Secondly, they open up new perspectives on theology, looking in from the outside, without having a direct stake in the, often very inward-looking, comfortable, theological debates. In doing so, Agamben and Kotsko present us with almost forgotten treasures from the tradition and dare to raise new questions in the context of a post post-modern society. Even though our new interlocutors might not always immediately convince us, they challenge us to re-think our often-held assumptions, both philosophically and theologically, and do better, making treasures from the tradition once again fruitful for the challenges of today and tomorrow.