Journal articles on the topic 'Dogme language teaching'

English language teaching has become a global industry where the teaching materials sector is an important component. In many language learning contexts, the textbook is as much an integral part of the school environment as the teacher and students themselves. The textbook itself is usually supplemented by at least a workbook and a DVD. In addition to the textbook, the student is expected to use a variety of teacher-provided handouts in the classroom, and in the digital age will also use a laptop or interactive whiteboard. Therefore, among the professional community, questions have long been raised and continue to be raised about the extent to which educational materials should determine the content of teaching a foreign language, and about the extent to which such ready-made materials really contribute to the creation of an environment of authentic communication. In this context, Thornbury published an article in 2000 challenging the very use of teaching materials in language classes. This is how the term Dogme appeared, which began to be used in the field of teaching foreign languages. He suggested that a foreign language should be taught in the form of authentic communication with minimal reliance on such means as textbooks and the use of information and communication technologies. In such an environment, the students themselves and the teacher are the ones who create the language. Since its inception, the Dogme method has been used by many practicing English teachers around the world. However, it also drew significant criticism from many teachers. This article attempts to review Dogme's approach to teaching English, highlight its advantages and disadvantages, and provide examples of classes based on the Dogme method.

This paper aims to make a critical discussion of Dogme ELT, an innovative pedagogy in English language teaching first developed by Thornbury (2000). This paper first provides a comprehensive review of second language acquisition and pedagogical theories as well as post-methods era perspectives in English language teaching. After that, the authors discuss different aspects of Dogme ELT and figure out the room for Dogme ELT in English language teaching in the post-methods era. Dogme ELT is rooted in a conglomerate of compatible theories in second language learning and teaching. The most noticeable perspective may be that the language teachers should not rely mainly on prescribed coursebooks, but teach design tasks based on learners’ problems and interests. There should be more studies on various aspects of Dogme ELT, although it satisfies most, if not all, basic principles in English language teaching theoretically. The authors also figure out gaps in research and recommendations for English language teachers and learners.

English language has been a pressing need of people all over the world; so, the experts are making efforts for effective and successful teaching and learning of different language skills through innovations in teaching approaches and methods. As a new teaching approach, Dogme ELT was introduced in 2000, which claimed success and better outcomes in different language teaching areas. Focusing on the claim of this new teaching approach, this study was conducted to explore the effectiveness of Dogme ELT to enhance English language competence in academic writing skills. For this purpose, a Classroom Action Research (CAR) was conducted, and the data was collected through a diagnostic assessment test on the very first day and a final test after Dogme ELT treatment. The collected data was analyzed through qualitative and quantitative methods to record the results of the study. The research participants’ performance in the diagnostics test and in the final test after Dogme ELT treatment shows that this new teaching approach is very effective and successful to enhance English language competence in academic writing skills.

This critical review looks at the present state of ESL/EFL activities in the Kurdistan region of Iraq, with particular attention to the English speaking abilities of students enrolled in English Medium Instruction (EMI) courses in the region's 13 universities, and calls for the consideration of "Dogme" types of communicative language curricula. The critique, based in large part of a recent survey by the British Council, clearly shows that most college freshmen entering EMI classrooms are not adequately prepared to meet the challenges and rigor of studying in the English language. As a consequence, the paper offers a background about the theories and ideas of an alternative communicative language pedagogy known as Dogme. The critique reviews the ideas of Dogme founder Scott Thornbury and provides both a rationale and four-point plan about how a "Dogme Lite" type of curriculum may be introduced into the present English language curriculums used in public schools in the region.

Despite the emergence of Dogme ELT in the 2000s, only small numbers of academic research employing this approach were documented, especially in the context of teaching English Speaking skills in Indonesian higher education. Also, as a response to Indonesian students’ unsatisfied performance in English skills, this study was aimed to introduce and propose an instructional framework using "Snapshot" for college students. As one of the Dogme ELT activities, it hopefully can boost students' motivation, participation, and ability to use the target language orally. Following the scoping study method by Arksey and O’Malley (2005), we gathered data by deriving and concluding theories and practices of research published in 2016 until 2020. As a result, there are thirteen studies on Dogme ELT. From those studies found, we derived and cultivated the implementation of the approach, the perspectives of teachers and students toward the activities, and then presented the proposed framework in teaching English speaking using Snapshot in three stages. Furthermore, the findings indicate that only five out of thirteen studies that empirically utilized and described Dogme ELT in the classroom with mostly favored by both teachers and students. In sum, the proposed framework hopefully can benefit educators in general, ELT teachers, and lecturers in particular.

Scientific teaching requires scientifically constructed, field-tested instruments to accurately evaluate student thinking and gauge teacher effectiveness. We have developed a 23-question, multiple select–format assessment of student understanding of the essential concepts of the central dogma of molecular biology that is appropriate for all levels of undergraduate biology. Questions for the Central Dogma Concept Inventory (CDCI) tool were developed and iteratively revised based on student language and review by experts. The ability of the CDCI to discriminate between levels of understanding of the central dogma is supported by field testing (N = 54), and large-scale beta testing (N = 1733). Performance on the assessment increased with experience in biology; scores covered a broad range and showed no ceiling effect, even with senior biology majors, and pre/posttesting of a single class focused on the central dogma showed significant improvement. The multiple-select format reduces the chances of correct answers by random guessing, allows students at different levels to exhibit the extent of their knowledge, and provides deeper insight into the complexity of student thinking on each theme. To date, the CDCI is the first tool dedicated to measuring student thinking about the central dogma of molecular biology, and version 5 is ready to use.

The tasks and aims of the Bochum Observatory are popularization of astronomy and space sciences, and adult education. In general, as a cultural center for natural sciences we must translate scientific nomenclature into the language of the nonspecialist. Astronomy is ideal for presenting the basic facts of scientific methodology and reasoning to the publicA planetarium is the most versatile instrument for teaching basic astronomy and space sciences to the general public as well as to school groups. We take great care to avoid a lecture-like style in the programs. Audience surveys have shown that most visitors don’t want to get the feeling of being educated as in school. Nevertheless, we first have to motivate before we can educate. Instead, most visitors want merely to enjoy astronomy in the pleasant atmosphere of the dome. Consequently, our public planetarium shows contain elements of entertainment. We use many special effects, panoramas, and all-sky projections for a most precise simulation of astronomical phenomena. The audience should get the thrilling impression of witnessing things from close up. For example, they all become passengers on an imaginary spacecraft visiting the rugged terrain of Valles Marineris on Mars, the swirling clouds in Jupiter’s atmosphere, or even the vicinity of a whirlpool-like accretion disc around a supermassive black hole in the core of an active galaxy. We use the potential of the planetarium as an “illusion factory” to increase the visitors’ positive attitude towards astronomy and space travel. Special music, sound, and noise effects add to the impression.

At the start of the 2013 academic year, Japan’s Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology (MEXT) implemented the guideline set forth in their latest Courses of Study, dictating that English classes “should be conducted principally in English in high school” (MEXT, 2009, p. 8). The new Courses of Study, although not imposing a strict target-language-only rule, are still reflective of the past dogma that takes what Macaro (2001) calls a maximal position wherein the L1 is a necessary evil rather than a pedagogical resource. Teachers and institutions espousing such a view undermine language learning progress by engendering undue guilt for responsive and responsible teaching decisions, inhibiting creative pedagogy, and discouraging teachers from acting as positive and realistic bi/multilingual role models. 日本の文部科学省は、現行版学習要領に記載された「高等学校の英語教育授業を原則として英語で教えること」（文部科学省, 2009, p. 8）という方針を2013学年度に施行した。対象言語のみの使用を徹底するという厳格な規則にはなっていないものの、新学習要領は、Macaro（2001）がmaximal positionと呼ぶ「母語（L1）の使用は教育上の必要悪である」とする考えを反映している。このような見解を広める教師及び教育機関は、柔軟かつ責任ある教育的決断に対して過剰な罪悪感を生み、独創的な教授法を抑制し、教師が積極的で現実的に対応できるバイリンガル・多言語が使いこなせる模範者として活躍することを阻害し、それによって外国語教育の進歩を妨害する。

<p>Language in a literary work facilitates authors conveying motives in their works. Through language, the authors send messages to the readers. Therefore, a literary discourse analysis with limitless meanings could reveal the author’s motives. This analysis used a semiotic approach which focuses on literacy analysis through language as a symbol. A short story called <em>Godlob</em> by Danarto has a dimension of a communal language that is immediately digestible. But it does not mean that the author’s motives can be easily grasped by the readers. This might happen because the implicit purposes lie within the uncommon language used in this short story. With that, the story contains a logical path that needs to be analyzed which prioritizes language as a symbol with certain meanings. Based on a semiotics approach, <em>Goldlob</em> addresses critical issues relating to a Christian faith -- how Jesus was killed and nailed on the cross was God’s way to cleanse the sin of man. This issue is a way to explain and share the history of Jesus’ death to save the world and becomes the truth and a Christian doctrine. A Christian literacy teaching sustains a Christian faith. </p><p>BAHASA INDONESIA ABSTRAK: Bahasa dalam karya sastra merupakan sarana pengarang untuk menyampaikan motif dalam karya-karyanya. Melalui bahasa, pengarang menyampaikan pesan yang ingin disampaikan kepada pembaca. Dengan itu, pengkajian sastra sebagai tanda (sign) yang memiliki kekayaan makna tersebut menjadi penting dilakukan untuk menyingkap maksud pengarang. Analisis ini menggunakan pendekatan semiotika yaitu pendekatan yang memfokuskan analisis sastra melalui bahasa sebagai tanda. Cerita pendek berjudul Godlob karya Danarto memiliki dimensi bahasa komunal yang dapat dicerna sesekemudian mungkin. Namun bukan berarti bahwa maksud pengarang juga sedemikian cepat ditangkap oleh pembaca. Hal itu dimungkinkan karena cerita ini memiliki maksud yang tersirat dengan penggunaan bahasa tak lazim seperti yang tertuang dalam judul cerita pendek ini. Dengan itu, jalinan kisah cerita ini juga mengandung logika yang harus dikaji secara semiotika dengan mengutamakan bahasa sebagai tanda yang memiliki maksud-maksud tertentu. Berdasarkan pendekatan semiotika isi cerpen Godlob mengarahkan kepada pertanyaan kritis pokok iman Kristen yaitu apakah Yesus yang dibunuh dan disalibkan adalah cara Tuhan menebus dosa manusia. Pertanyaan ini menjadi sarana untuk menjelaskan dan mewartakan sebuah sejarah kematian Yesus untuk menyelamatkan dosa manusia yang telah menjadi kebenaran dan dogma Kristen. Pengajaran sastra secara Kristen dapat memperkokoh iman kristiani.</p>

This study focuses on cases where EFL students do not produce the required words and phrases in their written production (i.e. semantic nonuse). To the best of the researcher’s knowledge no quantitative studies have been conducted so far to show the magnitude and the various reasons of nonuse. To fill this gap, this study attempts to quantify and analyze such instances with examples. Data were collected from 71 Arabic-to-English translations dome by university English majors as one of the tasks of an introductory course in translation. They wrote an essay in Modern Standard Arabic at the beginning of the semester and translated it into English at the end of it. Cases of nonuse where students did not use any English words were categorized and analyzed. The students were consulted to justify such cases. Accordingly, three reasons of nonuse were identified: (1) ignorance and perceived difficulty (65%), (2) perceived redundancy (33%), and (3) memory lapse (2%). ‘Avoidance’ accounted for words and expressions that were not produced due to difficulty and redundancy. The distinction between ‘ignorance’ and ‘avoidance’ may give language instructors a deeper insight into the learners’ production problems and help them in planning strategy-based teaching. The findings may also help researchers classify and explain cases of nonuse more rigorously.

<p>There is no shortage of support for the idea that ethics should be incorporated into the academic and professional curriculum. There is a difference, however, between, on the one hand, teaching professionals about ethics, and, on the other, demanding that they give ethical expression to the range of professional skills they are expected to apply daily in their work. If this expression is not to be perfunctory, ethical judgement must be genuinely integrated into the professional skill set. The mark of integration in this regard is the capacity for autonomous judgement. Ethical autonomy cannot be achieved by a mechanical, rule-bound and circumstance-specific checklist of ethical do’s and don’ts, and it is only partially achieved by a move from mechanistic rules to ‘outcome based’ processes. Rather, professional ethical autonomy presupposes not only a formal understanding of the requirements of an ethical code of conduct, but a genuine engagement with the substantive values and techniques that enable practitioners to interpret and apply principles confidently over a range of circumstances. It is not then, that ethical skill is not valued by the legal profession or legal education, or that the shortfall of ethical skill goes unacknowledged, it is rather that the language of professional ethics struggles to break free from the cautious circularity that is the mark of its formal expression. To require a professional to ‘act in their client’s interests’, or ‘act in accordance with the expectations of the profession’ or act ‘fairly and effectively’ are formal, infinitely ambiguous and entirely safe suggestions; to offer a substantive account of what, specifically, those interests might be, or what expectations we should have, are rather more contentious. Fears of dogma and a narrowing of discretion do, of course, accompany the idea of a search for ethical substance, and caution is to be expected in response to it. Notwithstanding these anxieties, there would appear to be no coherent alternative to the aspiration to substantive autonomy, and this must remain the goal of teaching legal ethics. In light of this, the problem facing educationalists is then perhaps expressed more diplomatically in terms of how ethical skill might be substantively developed, imparted, and integrated into a genuinely comprehensive conception of professional skill.</p><p>Clinical education can go a long way to solving this problem: exposure to the practical tasks of lawyering is the surest and best way of raising consciousness in this regard: ‘Hands-on’ is good - and consciousness-raising is a step in the direction of autonomy, but raw experience and elevated awareness is not enough. We know that our most influential theories of learning tells us that it is in the process of reflection upon problem solving that the practitioner begins to take autonomous control of skill development. In the view of the author, reflection, requires content and direction, and in this paper, with the aid of three models of skill integration inspired by Nigel Duncan’s detailed analysis and video reconstruction of the ethical and technical skill deficiencies brought to light by R v Griffiths, we attempt to specify what might be understood in this regard: Reflective content refers to the discrete interests and values that compete to produce tension in what we will refer to the ‘matrix’ of concerns that feature in all forms of dispute resolution; reflective direction points to an engagement with the resources and techniques that can empower critical and autonomous judgment. In the context of a clinical process broadly structured by the insights of Wenger and by Rest’s model of ethical skill, guided reflection so specified thus serves as an interface between on the one hand, indeterminate ethical form, and, on the other, the substantive ethical wisdom to be found in the repository of values that underpin the very idea of the legal enterprise.</p>

Background:Intra-articular therapy (IAT) is routinely used in rheumatic and musculoskeletal diseases (RMDs). In order to improve the effectiveness and safety of IAT, it is essential to understand patients’ perceptions and needs.Objectives:To assess the perspective of persons who have experienced IAT, including perceptions on benefits and safety.Methods:A steering committee (including a patient research partner) prepared a 44-item questionnaire based on the information needs of a Taskforce on IAT in adult patients with RMDs. The questionnaire was translated into 11 languages and disseminated via EULAR PARE associations and social media. Persons who had experienced at least two IAT procedures were eligible for the survey. Descriptive statistics were used to summarise results as well as inductive codification of open-ended questions.Results:The survey was answered by 200 individuals diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis (66%), osteoarthritis (21%), spondyloarthritis (10%), psoriatic arthritis (9%), and others (16%). The mean number of IATs received was 7 (SD 8), mainly in the knee (66%), shoulder (42%), and wrist (28%), and primarily with corticosteroids (83%) or hyaluronic acid (16%). Twenty-seven percent had not been informed about benefits or potential complications of IAT, and 73% had not been asked whether they wanted local anaesthetic. Consent was deemed necessary by 82 (41%). Most (65%) had never received an ultrasound (US)-guided injection, and of those who had experienced blinded and guided injections, 42 (63%) preferred US-guided because of increased perceived accuracy and confidence in the procedure. Only 50% reported a clear benefit of IAT, mainly in terms of reduced pain and increased joint mobility, but also perceived reduced inflammation, with effect from immediate to 36 hours or even 3 weeks post-injection, and that lasted from as little as less than one week to years. Regarding safety, 40 (20%) had experienced some complications from IAT, including but not limited to increased pain, impaired mobility, rashes, or swelling.Finally, the respondents suggested improvements in the procedure, including: (1) wider availability; (2) less painful procedures; (3) greater efficacy, faster and longer-lasting; (4) fewer side effects; (5) a clear diagnosis beforehand; (6) better shared decision-making, including better information; (7) follow-up, (8) better accuracy; and (9) more expertise.Conclusion:The survey has identified gaps in the IAT procedures, such as a need for clearer information. Patients perceive IAT as relatively safe, though painful, and with varying effect. Suggestions for improving the procedure, including more expertise, should be relayed to professionals and relevant organisations.Acknowledgments:Eular Taskforce grant CL109Disclosure of Interests:IRENE Pitsillidou: None declared, Jenny de la Torre-Aboki: None declared, Jacqueline Uson Jaeger: None declared, Esperanza Naredo: None declared, Lene Terslev: None declared, Mikael Boesen Consultant of: AbbVie, AstraZeneca, Eli Lilly, Esaote, Glenmark, Novartis, Pfizer, UCB, Paid instructor for: IAG, Image Analysis Group, AbbVie, Eli Lilly, AstraZeneca, esaote, Glenmark, Novartis, Pfizer, UCB (scientific advisor)., Speakers bureau: Eli Lilly, Esaote, Novartis, Pfizer, UCB, Hemant Pandit Grant/research support from: Glaxo Smith Kline (GSK) for work on Diclofenac Gel, Speakers bureau: Bristol Myers Squibb for teaching their employees about hip and knee replacement, Ingrid Möller: None declared, Maria Antonietta D’Agostino Consultant of: AbbVie, BMS, Novartis, and Roche, Speakers bureau: AbbVie, BMS, Novartis, and Roche, Willm Uwe Kampen: None declared, Terence O’Neill: None declared, Michael Doherty Grant/research support from: AstraZeneca funded the Nottingham Sons of Gout study, Consultant of: Advisory borads on gout for Grunenthal and Mallinckrodt, Francis Berenbaum Grant/research support from: TRB Chemedica (through institution), MSD (through institution), Pfizer (through institution), Consultant of: Novartis, MSD, Pfizer, Lilly, UCB, Abbvie, Roche, Servier, Sanofi-Aventis, Flexion Therapeutics, Expanscience, GSK, Biogen, Nordic, Sandoz, Regeneron, Gilead, Bone Therapeutics, Regulaxis, Peptinov, 4P Pharma, Paid instructor for: Sandoz, Speakers bureau: Novartis, MSD, Pfizer, Lilly, UCB, Abbvie, Roche, Servier, Sanofi-Aventis, Flexion Therapeutics, Expanscience, GSK, Biogen, Nordic, Sandoz, Regeneron, Gilead, Sandoz, Valentina Vardanyan: None declared, Elena Nikiphorou: None declared, Sebastian C Rodriguez-García Speakers bureau: Novartis Farmaceutica, S.A., Merck Sharp & Dohme España, S.A., Sanofi Aventis, UCB Pharma, Raul Castellanos-Moreira: None declared, Loreto Carmona Grant/research support from: Novartis Farmaceutica, SA, Pfizer, S.L.U., Merck Sharp & Dohme España, S.A., Roche Farma, S.A, Sanofi Aventis, AbbVie Spain, S.L.U., and Laboratorios Gebro Pharma, SA (All trhough institution)

In order to understand the meaning of the sense of faith, it is necessary to distinguishbetween sensus fidei (a person’s ability to believe), sensus fidelium(competent to the Church as congregatio fidelium, and is based on sensus fidei)and consensus fidei – fidelium (points to the unity of the Church, which is expressedin a common confession of faith, credo).Sensus fidei is expressed as intuition or understanding of faith. is meansthe potential ability of a person to hear God’s Word addressed to them andto accept it as God’s Word. is makes it possible for members of the Churchto “grasp” the revelations. is charism or ability to discern was given to thewhole Church by the Holy Spirit. It is one of the ways in which the faithfulbear witness to their faith and discover the tradition of the Church. e historyof the development of dogma shows that God’s people also contributeto a deeper understanding of the truths of faith. Consensus fidei has always hadvalue in Catholic theology. e testimony of God’s people helps to recognisethe revealed truth.e Holy Spirit gives believers the ability to understand the supernaturaltruth revealed by Christ. In this way supernatural reality is becoming increasinglybetter known and expressed more precisely through new language formulations.Sensus fidei is born from the Christian experience of participatingin the life of grace, and leads to a clearer understanding of the mystery thanlogical discourse is able to do. e theology of sensus fidei, stressing the activerole not only of Ecclesia docente, but also discente, has enlivened reflectionson the Church as a “living organism” whose global growth, especially in faith,is realised in the vital function of the whole organism.In order to make a reliable judgement on issues that affect the senseof faith, it is necessary to appeal and to base it on the teaching of the Magisteriumof the Church. Only then the understanding of revelation through sensusfidei can be expressed through linguistic expression in a way that is certain andappropriate to the reality being expressed.Between sensus fidei and the teachings of the Magisterium of the Churchthere are mutual relationships. Sensus fidei needs the Magisterium, similarly theteachings of Magisterium should also take into consideration the fruits of sensus fidelium. We can therefore speak of the interpenetration of these two realities.“Mutual reciprocity” – the coordination between laity and Shepherds of theChurch must lead to many benefits, including the proclamation of revealed truth.Sensus fidei seems to point to people who are above all “poor in spirit.”It is true that God o%en gives to simple people, but deeply believing, the abilityof the “eyes of faith” of supernatural reality. A%er all, Jesus Christ Himself says:I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have covered these thingsfrom the wise and prudent, and revealed them to the simple ones. Yes, Father,because that was your liking (Luke 40:/4). Indeed, a true believer has this wisdom,even without profound theological knowledge. e more intensely a person livesa spiritual experience, the more fruitful he or she will participate in the senseof faith. At times, however, too much detachment of sensus fidei from the needfor systematic intellectual formation is sought. It is necessary to be aware thata person open to the grace, instructed by the teaching of the Magisterium, theteaching of theology, is thus in a more advantageous situation in relation to thecharism of sensus fidei. For man “juxtaposes,” analyses facts and words, andunderstands them according to his own experience and his cognitive abilities,according to the principle: ad modum recipientis recipitur. e Holy Spirithelps to evaluate what is understood. However, it does not miraculously replacea proper understanding of facts and words, which are, a%er all, the subjectof this judgementQ|.Post-conciliar theology places sensus fidei above all in the context of theinfallibility of the whole Church. In addition, it sees it as a charism handeddown from the Holy Spirit to the Church. Considering sensus fidei, as “intuition,”“instinct” or “autonomous judgement” we do not mean irrational aspect.However, theologians emphasise that it is not possible to overestimate sensusfidei, too much, because it has its limitations. It is difficult to define a consensusof faith. e faith of much of God’s people is, unfortunately, weak, limited,prone to one-sidedness, and certainly cannot be the foundation for precisedeliberations, although it does inspire them in a way.

In the age of digital transformations of images, communications, and storytelling, Marshall McLuhan's insight that "the medium is the message" can be augmented with the corollary that the media is the mix. Digital forms of narrative are not only characterized by their mixed, hybrid forms and content, but their recombinations 1 draw the spectator into the mix in unforeseen ways. By mixing varying degrees of non-linearity and interactivity in what are ultimately animations, digital narratives create new kinds of digital spectatorship. The examples I'll explore here are three films, Conceiving Ada, Gamer, and Time Code. In different yet interconnected ways, each privileges the mix of media over content, or rather, foregrounds the mix as content. These digital narratives divert the reader/spectator/ participant from the traditional ways of making meaning--or at least sense--of narrative. One way to illuminate the examples is to explore how they mix linearity and interactivity. In teaching The Theory and Practice of Digital Narrative, my students and I developed a model for analyzing how different works create new modes of storytelling, and fresh relations of looking at and within the frame.2 Extending some of the terms that Janet Murray develops in Hamlet on the Holodeck: The Future of Narrative in Cyberspace, the diagram posits an x axis of linearity and a y axis of agency.3 Click here for an animated version of this graph. The linearity axis spans narratives from most linear (one plot line that progresses chronologically through time and space to one outcome through a series of cause and effect occurrences represented from a singular point of view) to non-linear (narratives that could be circular, rhizome-shaped, achronological, synchronic, multiple plotlines, multiple points of view, multidimensional).4 The agency axis spans media that call for very little active participation from the reader/spectator/listener to media that demands a high level of interaction. Of course, all "reading" is in some way active, both in the physical acts of seeing and turning pages/clicking a mouse 5 and in comprehending, imagining, remembering, and making meaning. Nevertheless, there is a distinction between page-turning and making choices in a hypermedia work, and Murray uses the term agency to suggest an "active creation of belief" (as opposed to Coleridge's "willing suspension of belief"). Digital environments require that belief be created and reinforced; as William Gibson posited in Neuromancer, the imagined place of cyberspace is a "consensual hallucination," a social agreement to act as if the places in cyberspace exist. The willing creation of belief is a social agreement that relies on a like-minded community. The more self-reflexive and unconventional the narrative, the more it calls for the will to believe. These examples of digital cinema "interpellate," or hail, their spectators as willing agents in the common project of the creation of belief. The subjectivity that these films seek to create for their viewers is one of being an active, technologically-savvy spectator. Instead of encouraging participation in, to use Guy Debord's phrase, the society of the spectacle, these digital narratives perform a Brechtian function in a distinctly technological manner that derives from the mix of media that is digital cinema. The term "digital cinema" has acquired many meanings, ranging from movies shot on digital video in a manner we associate with film (i.e.: single camera) to digital exhibition of media in digitally-equipped movie theaters and streaming video on the web. Lev Manovich defines digital cinema as "a particular case of animation which uses live action footage as one of its many elements."6 Manovich's historical argument suggests commonalities between the earliest moving images and current developments in digital media; animation was marginalized in the development of cinema, and although some of its techniques were adopted by the avant garde, only now animation returns at the very center of digital cinema.7 Lynn Hershman Leeson's film Conceiving Ada explores digital media in both form and content. In the film Emmy, a contemporary computer software engineer, uses technology to make contact with Ada Lovelace, who invented the first computer language in Victorian England. The narrative moves between Emmy in the present day and Ada in the past as Emmy figures out how to send a software agent into the past to retrieve information. Although the plot doesn't really make sense scientifically, it resonates emotionally; despite the 150 years separating their lives, Emmy and Ada face some of the same issues as women working with technology. Instead of building sets, Leeson developed a technique of blending live action footage shot against a blue screen with digitized photographs of Victorian inns. As she explains in the technical notes of the DVD of the film (and also on the Conceiving Ada website): I felt it important to use the technology Ada pioneered. Virtual sets and digital sound . . . provided environments in which she moves freely through time, becomes liberated and, ultimately, moves into visibility. The actors and filmmaker collaborated in what amounts to a consensual hallucination: On the set, these images were maneuvered through several computers where mattes were added and images were put into perspective or enlarged. They were then laid onto digital videotape while the actors were performing. Actors could reference their location through a monitor that showed them their "virtual" environment. . . . The immediacy of shooting live action while simultaneously manipulating digitized backgrounds in real time was, remarkably, exhilarating. By mixing past and present, fact and fiction, personal and professional, digital and analog, live action and animation, Conceiving Ada tells its powerful story in both form and content. Although it is not immediately obvious that the sets are virtual rather than actual, much of the story takes place in front of and inside Emmy's computer equipment. There are many shots of Emmy gazing into the computer, trying to make her programs work, and when she does make contact with Ada, she can see her memories and talk with her on the computer screen. The film frame often encompasses the computer screen, so we too see the graphic interfaces Emmy designs and animates. By mixing some of the techniques of video art with film style and the malleability of the digital image, Leeson extends her trailblazing career in many directions at once in a work that is a mix about mix. A representation of intense digital interactivity, Conceiving Ada's heroines, creators, and spectators use technology, and specifically digital imaging technology, to create agency. Like Conceiving Ada, Time Code is also an example of digital cinema that calls attention to the digital techniques used in its production, and enlists its spectators as accomplices in creating the narrative. Time Code is itself the product of improvisation, and uses digital technology to capture "real time." Director Mike Figgis divides the screen into four frames; each quadrant contains a continuous 90-minute take of an unscripted, improvised performance, all shot simultaneously with four Sony Dvcam DSR-130s; the film was blocked out on music paper. Figgis describes his movie as a "black comedy about a 90-minute slice of life in Hollywood," and it takes filmmaking as one of its subjects along with jealousy, infidelity, and a fin-de-siecle philosophical and artistic exhaustion. The audio mix of the theatrical release of the film shifts its emphasis between the quadrants, thus directing the spectator's attention to a certain quadrant. Choosing to focus on a quadrant is a kind of spectator-editing. Looking at the entire frame means seeing a new kind of animation, created by multiple screens, encompassing multiple points of view. (See Time Code clip here.) The film folds in on itself self-reflexively. The plot centers around the intersecting lives of four characters involved personally and/or professionally with Red Mullet, Inc., a movie studio (which is the real-life name of Figgis's production company; see www.red-mullet.com), and becomes increasingly Brechtian as the movie builds to the climactic scene in which a hot young independent filmmaker pitches a movie that, like the one we are watching, splits the screen and follows the interactions between four characters. In what could be taken as a manifesto for digital cinema that counters the "chastity" of DOGME 95 with the passionate embrace of technology, the filmmaker announces, "Montage has created a fake reality. . . . Technology has arrived, digital video has arrived, and is demanding new expressions, new sensations. . . . It's time to say again: Art, Technology: a new union." She shows the studio executives storyboards of how four cameras will follow four characters, who are really four aspects of the same character at different points in their lives. But the filmmaker's passionate and theoretical speech is undercut by the context of black comedy that infuses the film: artistic praxis clashes with business practice, and all the plotlines peak as Stellan Skarsgard's Alex bursts into laughter and exclaims, "This is the most pretentious crap I've ever heard. . . . Do you think anybody around this table has a clue about what you're talking about?" Figgis assumes his audience does, that Bauhaus, Soviet montage, and Guy Debord are not as foreign to his spectators as they are to the executives; the filmmakers both within and outside the frames show their theoretical orientation. Time Code is the first major work of digital cinema. It creates a new kind of animation based on subjectivity and point of view, and calls for an active creation of belief from the spectator-editor who takes in and ultimately creates the narrative of the film. The DVD extends the spectator's agency even further. Among its special features is a documentary about how the film was shot 15 times, all four cameras operating simultaneously around the actors' improvisation. Figgis chose the fifteenth version for the theatrical release, but also includes the first version on the DVD. Because the making of the film, and how it uses digital technology, is so central to the spectator's experience, the director's commentary and interviews with the cast reinforce the spectator as an active creator of belief and meaning in the film. Moreover, by including a special audio mixing feature, the DVD gives the medium a new level of interactivity. Using the remote control of a DVD player, the spectator/participant can switch between the audio of the different quadrants. Because the audio is a major aspect of directing the spectator's attention (in addition to visual elements such as movement and stasis), being able to make choices in the audio mix is, to use the music metaphor that the film is based on conceptually, to become the conductor of the film.8 The medium is the mix. Like Time Code and Conceiving Ada, the new French film Gamer is also a particularly digital mix. Gamer moves between live action and digital environments as its main character Tony gets the idea for, designs, and then is swindled out of a computer game. The first time the film environment switches to the game environment is when the hero is in a car chase and his car morphs into a game graphic of a car. The shift between a reality created by conventional film style and the unconventional use of game graphics style reveals the main character's subjectivity, for his reality (and other characters' as well) are constructed through their interaction in the playing and making of games. Gamer is aesthetically and viscerally ambitious in the range of live action and computer graphic interfaces it moves between. The adrenalized state of game-playing mixes with a fictionalized account of game design. Gamer succeeds in creating an immersive text about two differently immersive mediums, film and computer games. When the film depicts how live action can be made digital, and both shows and denies the indexicality of the digital image, it explores the nature of digital cinema in a way that is complementary to the projects of Conceiving Ada and Time Code. In addition to fostering new relations of looking, these digital narratives make forays into nonlinearity. Conceiving Ada and Gamer both have discursive plots that revise the conventions of the linear plot, moving between nested narrative frames in time, space, and subjectivity. Time Code is in one way relentlessly linear, but its synchronic depiction of multiple physical and emotional points of view ruptures the cinematic conventions of time and space constructed by the dominant style of continuity editing. Taken separately, these three films hover around the center point of my diagram, raising the issues of agency and linearity that will continue to be at the center of digital narrative. Taken together the films offer a model of digital transformation that points the way to what is bound to be a medium that increasingly involves its audience in thinking about and then participating in increasingly immersive, nonlinear, and interactive experiences. Notes 1. In the “renew” issue of M/C, David Marshall suggests that one of the areas Cultural Studies can look to is how the culture industries that produce “recombinant culture,” make efforts “to incorporate new technologies into different forms in order to reconstitute audiences in ways that in their distinctiveness produce value that is exchangeable as capital.” This essay is part of a larger work that attempts to open up some of the avenues suggested by Marshall. P. David Marshall. "Renewing Cultural Studies." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.6 (2000). [22 February 2001] . 2. This diagram is a work in progress. My students and I have had much discussion about what to term the bottom of the agency axis. “Passive” seems too simple, yet other terms we’ve come up with such as structured, controlled, limited, voyeuristic, or (my favorite) enslaved don’t seem to work. Special thanks to my students Elliott Davis, Tom Mannino, and John O’Connell, for such discussions. 3. Janet H. Murray, Hamlet on the Holodeck: The Future of Narrative in Cyberspace, MIT Press, 1999, esp. 128. 4. For an interesting discussion and diagramming of story shapes, see Katherine Phelps, “Story Shapes for Digital Media.” [3/7/01] < http://www.glasswings.com.au/modern/shapes/>. Steven Johnson’s assertion that the hyperlink is the “first significant new form of punctuation to emerge in centuries” is an intriguing one for thinking about the connections possible in hypermedia. (Interface Culture: How New Technology Transforms the Way We Create and Communicate (San Francisco: HarperEdge, 1997), 110-111). 6. Lev Manovich, “What Is Digital Cinema?” http://jupiter.ucsd.edu/~manovich/text/digital-cinema.html 7. In a footnote, Manovich makes an interesting point on avant-garde strategies such as collage, painting on film, combining print with animation and live action footage, and combining many images in a single frame: “what used to be exceptions for traditional cinema became the normal, intended techniques of digital filmmaking, embedded in technology design itself.” Innovative forays into the mix of digital media like my examples illuminate not only the emergence of exceptional techniques but also of innovative narrative and spectatorial strategies. 8. Figgis is using the quadrant method once again in a new film, Hotel, which recently finished production in Florence. During the filming, there was a brilliant site that every day had a new page with the four-quadrant split. In addition to quicktimes of footage of the shoot and the actors in the hotel where the film is set, there were some of the cleverest animations I have ever seen on the web. Unfortunately the site shut down after the shoot finished, but it will be up again in May, most likely at www.filmfour.com/hotel, but check www.red-mullet.com as well.

Photograph by Gonzalo Echeverria (2010)“I must plunge again and again in the water of doubt” (Wittgenstein 1e). The Holy Grail in the phenomenology of religion (and, to a lesser extent, the sociology of religion) is a definition of religion that actually works, but, so far, this seems to have been elusive. Classical definitions of religion—substantive (e.g. Tylor) and functionalist (e.g. Durkheim)—fail, in part because they attempt to be in three places at once, as it were: they attempt to distinguish religion from non-religion; they attempt to capture what religions have in common; and they attempt to grasp the “heart”, or “core”, of religion. Consequently, family resemblance definitions of religion replace certainty and precision for its own sake with a more pragmatic and heuristic approach, embracing doubt and putting forward definitions that give us a better understanding (Verstehen) of religion. In this paper, I summarise some “new” definitions of religion that take this approach, before proposing and defending another one, defining religion as non-propositional and “apophatic”, thus accepting that doubt is central to religion itself, as well as to the analysis of religion.The question of how to define religion has had real significance in a number of court cases round the world, and therefore it does have an impact on people’s lives. In Germany, for example, the courts ruled that Scientology was not a religion, but a business, much to the displeasure of the Church of Scientology (Aldridge 15). In the United States, some advocates of Transcendental Meditation (TM) argued that TM was not a religion and could therefore be taught in public schools without violating the establishment clause in the constitution—the separation of church and state. The courts in New Jersey, and federal courts, ruled against them. They ruled that TM was a religion (Barker 146). There are other cases that I could cite, but the point of this is simply to establish that the question has a practical importance, so we should move on.In the classical sociology of religion, there are a number of definitions of religion that are quite well known. Edward Tylor (424) defined religion as a belief in spiritual beings. This definition does not meet with widespread acceptance, the notable exception being Melford Spiro, who proposed in 1966 that religion was “an institution consisting of culturally patterned interaction with culturally postulated super-human beings” (Spiro 96, see also 91ff), and who has bravely stuck to that definition ever since. The major problem is that this definition excludes Buddhism, which most people do regard as a religion, although some people try to get round the problem by claiming that Buddhism is not really a religion, but more of a philosophy. But this is cheating, really, because a definition of religion must be descriptive as well as prescriptive; that is, it must apply to entities that are commonly recognised as religions. Durkheim, in The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, proposed that religion had two key characteristics, a separation of the sacred from the profane, and a gathering together of people in some sort of institution or community, such as a church (Durkheim 38, 44). However, religions often reject a separation of the sacred from the profane. Most Muslims and many Calvinist Christians, for example, would insist strongly that everything—including the ostensibly profane—is equally subject to the sovereignty of God. Also, some religions are more oriented to a guru-pupil kind of relationship, rather than a church community.Weber tried to argue that religion should only be defined at the end of a long process of historical and empirical study. He is often criticised for this, although there probably is some wisdom in his argument. However, there seems to be an implicit definition of religion as theodicy, accounting for the existence of evil and the existence of suffering. But is this really the central concern of all religions?Clarke and Byrne, in their book Religion Defined and Explained, construct a typology of definitions, which I think is quite helpful. Broadly speaking, there are two types of classical definition. Firstly, there are substantive definitions (6), such as Tylor’s and Spiro’s, which posit some sort of common “property” that religions “have”—“inside” them, as it were. Secondly, functionalist definitions (Clarke and Byrne 7), such as Durkheim’s, define religion primarily in terms of its social function. What matters, as far as a definition of religion is concerned, is not what you believe, but why you believe it.However, these classical definitions do not really work. I think this is because they try to do too many things. For a strict definition of religion to work, it needs to tell us (i) what religions have in common, (ii) what distinguishes religion on the one hand from non-religion, or everything that is not religion, on the other, and (iii) it needs to tell us something important about religion, what is at the core of religion. This means that a definition of religion has to be in three places at once, so to speak. Furthermore, a definition of religion has to be based on extant religions, but it also needs to have some sort of quasi-predictive capacity, the sort of thing that can be used in a court case regarding, for example, Scientology or Transcendental Meditation.It may be possible to resolve the latter problem by a gradual process of adjustment, a sort of hermeneutic circle of basing a definition on extant religions and applying it to new ones. But what about the other problem, the one of being in three places at once?Another type identified by Clarke and Byrne, in their typology of definitions, is the “family resemblance” definition (11-16). This derives from the later Wittgenstein. The “family resemblance” definition of religion is based on the idea that religions commonly share a number of features, but that no one religion has all of them. For example, there are religious beliefs, doctrines and mythos—or stories and parables. There are rituals and moral codes, institutions and clergy, prayers, spiritual emotions and experiences, etc. This approach is of course less precise than older substantive and functional definitions, but it also avoids some of the problems associated with them.It does so by rethinking the point of defining religion. Instead of being precise and rigorous for the sake of it, it tries to tell us something, to be “productive”, to help us understand religion better. It eschews certainty and embraces doubt. Its insights could be applied to some schools of philosophy (e.g. Heideggerian) and practical spirituality, because it does not focus on what is distinctive about religion. Rather, it focuses on the core of religion, and, secondarily, on what religions have in common. The family resemblance approach has led to a number of “new” definitions (post-Durkheim definitions) being proposed, all of which define religion in a less rigorous, but, I hope, more imaginative and heuristic way.Let me provide a few examples, starting with two contrasting ones. Peter Berger in the late 1960s defined religion as “the audacious attempt to conceive of the entire universe as humanly significant”(37), which implies a consciousness of an anthropocentric sacred cosmos. Later, Alain Touraine said that religion is “the apprehension of human destiny, existence, and death”(213–4), that is, an awareness of human limitations, including doubt. Berger emphasises the high place for human beings in religion, and even a sort of affected certainty, while Touraine emphasises our place as doubters on the periphery, but it seems that religion exists within a tension between these two opposites, and, in a sense, encompasses them both.Richard Holloway, former Bishop of Edinburgh in the Scottish Episcopal Church and arch-nemesis of the conservative Anglicans, such as those from Sydney, defines religion as like good poetry, not bad science. It is easy to understand that he is criticising those who see religion, particularly Christianity, as centrally opposed to Darwin and evolution. Holloway is clearly saying that those people have missed the point of their own faith. By “good poetry”, he is pointing to the significance of storytelling rather than dogma, and an open-ended discussion of ultimate questions that resists the temptation to end with “the moral of the story”. In science (at least before quantum physics), there is no room for doubt, but that is not the case with poetry.John Caputo, in a very energetic book called On Religion, proposes what is probably the boldest of the “new” definitions. He defines religion as “the love of God” (1). Note the contrast with Tylor and Spiro. Caputo does not say “belief in God”; he says “the love of God”. You might ask how you can love someone you don’t believe in, but, in a sense, this paradox is the whole point. When Caputo says “God”, he is not necessarily talking in the usual theistic or even theological terms. By “God”, he means the impossible made possible (10). So a religious person, for Caputo, is an “unhinged lover” (13) who loves the impossible made possible, and the opposite is a “loveless lout” who is only concerned with the latest stock market figures (2–3). In this sense of religious, a committed atheist can be religious and a devout Catholic or Muslim or Hindu can be utterly irreligious (2–3). Doubt can encompass faith and faith can encompass doubt. This is the impossible made possible. Caputo’s approach here has something in common with Nietzsche and especially Kierkegaard, to whom I shall return later.I would like to propose another definition of religion, within the spirit of these “new” definitions of religion that I have been discussing. Religion, at its core, I suggest, is non-propositional and apophatic. When I say that religion is non-propositional, I mean that religion will often enact certain rituals, or tell certain stories, or posit faith in someone, and that propositional statements of doctrine are merely reflections or approximations of this non-propositional core. Faith in God is not a proposition. The Eucharist is not a proposition. Prayer is not, at its core, a proposition. Pilgrimage is not a proposition. And it is these sorts of things that, I suggest, form the core of religion. Propositions are what happen when theologians and academics get their hands on religion, they try to intellectualise it so that it can be made to fit within their area of expertise—our area of expertise. But, that is not where it belongs. Propositions about rituals impose a certainty on them, whereas the ritual itself allows for courage in the face of doubt. The Maundy Thursday service in Western Christianity includes the stripping of the altar to the accompaniment of Psalm 22 (“My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me”), ending the service without a dismissal (Latin missa, the origin of the English “mass”) and with the church in darkness. Doubt, confusion, and bewilderment are the heart and soul of this ritual, not orthodox faith as defined propositionally.That said, religion does often involve believing, of some kind (though it is not usually as central as in Christianity). So I say that religion is non-propositional and apophatic. The word “apophatic”, though not the concept, has its roots in Greek Orthodox theology, where St Gregory Palamas argues that any statement about God—and particularly about God’s essence as opposed to God’s energies—must be paradoxical, emphasising God’s otherness, and apophatic, emphasising God’s essential incomprehensibility (Armstrong 393). To make an apophatic statement is to make a negative statement—instead of saying God is king, lord, father, or whatever, we say God is not. Even the most devout believer will recognise a sense in which God is not a king, or a lord, or a father. They will say that God is much greater than any of these things. The Muslim will say “Allahu Akhbar”, which means God is greater, greater than any human description. Even the statement “God exists” is seen to be well short of the mark. Even that is human language, which is why the Cappadocian fathers (Saints Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory Naziansus) said that they believed in God, while refusing to say that God exists.So to say that religion is at its core non-propositional is to say that religious beliefs are at their core apophatic. The idea of apophasis is that by a process of constant negation you are led into silence, into a recognition that there is nothing more that can be said. St Thomas Aquinas says that the more things we negate about God, the more we say “God is not…”, the closer we get to what God is (139). Doubt therefore brings us closer to the object of religion than any putative certainties.Apophasis does not only apply to Christianity. I have already indicated that it applies also to Islam, and the statement that God is greater. In Islam, God is said to have 99 names—or at least 99 that have been revealed to human beings. Many of these names are apophatic. Names like The Hidden carry an obviously negative meaning in English, while, etymologically, “the Holy” (al-quddu-s) means “beyond imperfection”, which is a negation of a negation. As-salaam, the All-Peaceful, means beyond disharmony, or disequilibrium, or strife, and, according to Murata and Chittick (65–6), “The Glorified” (as-subbuh) means beyond understanding.In non-theistic religions too, an apophatic way of believing can be found. Key Buddhist concepts include sunyata, emptiness, or the Void, and anatta, meaning no self, the belief or realisation that the Self is illusory. Ask what they believe in instead of the Self and you are likely to be told that you are missing the point, like the Zen pupil who confused the pointing finger with the moon. In the Zen koans, apophasis plays a major part. One well-known koan is “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” Any logical answers will be dismissed, like Thomas Aquinas’s statements about God, until the pupil gets beyond logic and achieves satori, or enlightenment. Probably the most used koan is Mu—Master Joshu is asked if a dog has Buddha-nature and replies Mu, meaning “no” or “nothing”. This is within the context of the principle that everything has Buddha-nature, so it is not logical. But this apophatic process can lead to enlightenment, something better than logic. By plunging again and again in the water of doubt, to use Wittgenstein’s words, we gain something better than certainty.So not only is apophasis present in a range of different religions—and I have given just a few examples—but it is also central to the development of religion in the Axial Age, Karl Jaspers’s term for the period from about 800-200 BCE when the main religious traditions of the world began—monotheism in Israel (which also developed into Christianity and Islam), Hinduism and Buddhism in India, Confucianism and Taoism in China, and philosophical rationalism in Greece. In the early Hindu traditions, there seems to have been a sort of ritualised debate called the Brahmodya, which would proceed through negation and end in silence. Not the silence of someone admitting defeat at the hands of the other, but the silence of recognising that the truth lay beyond them (Armstrong 24).In later Hinduism, apophatic thought is developed quite extensively. This culminates in the idea of Brahman, the One God who is Formless, beyond all form and all description. As such, all representations of Brahman are equally false and therefore all representations are equally true—hence the preponderance of gods and idols on the surface of Hinduism. There is also the development of the idea of Atman, the universal Self, and the Buddhist concept anatta, which I mentioned, is rendered anatman in Sanskrit, literally no Atman, no Self. But in advaita Hinduism there is the idea that Brahman and Atman are the same, or, more accurately, they are not two—hence advaita, meaning “not two”. This is negation, or apophasis. In some forms of present-day Hinduism, such as the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (commonly known as the Hare Krishnas), advaita is rejected. Sometimes this is characterised as dualism with respect to Brahman and Atman, but it is really the negation of non-dualism, or an apophatic negation of the negation.Even in early Hinduism, there is a sort of Brahmodya recounted in the Rig Veda (Armstrong 24–5), the oldest extant religious scripture in the world that is still in use as a religious scripture. So here we are at the beginning of Axial Age religion, and we read this account of creation:Then was not non-existent nor existent: there was no realm of air, no sky beyond it.Death was not then, nor was there aught immortal.Darkness there was: at first concealed in darkness this All was indiscriminated chaos.All that existed then was void and form less.Sages who searched with their heart's thought discovered the existent's kinship in the non-existent.Who verily knows and who can here declare it, whence it was born and whence comes this creation?The Gods are later than this world's production. Who knows then whence it first came into being?He, the first origin of this creation, whether he formed it all or did not form it,Whose eye controls this world in highest heaven, he verily knows it, or perhaps he knows not.(Rig Veda Book 10, Hymn 129, abridged)And it would seem that this is the sort of thought that spread throughout the world as a result of the Axial Age and the later spread of Axial and post-Axial religions.I could provide examples from other religious traditions. Taoism probably has the best examples, though they are harder to relate to the traditions that are more familiar in the West. “The way that is spoken is not the Way” is the most anglicised translation of the opening of the Tao Te Ching. In Sikhism, God’s formlessness and essential unknowability mean that God can only be known “by the Guru’s grace”, to quote the opening hymn of the Guru Granth Sahib.Before I conclude, however, I would like to anticipate two criticisms. First, this may only be applicable to the religions of the Axial Age and their successors, beginning with Hinduism and Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism, and early Jewish monotheism, followed by Jainism, Christianity, Islam and so on. I would like to find examples of apophasis at the core of other traditions, including Indigenous Australian and Native American ones, for example, but that is work still to be done. Focusing on the Axial Age does historicise the argument, however, at least in contrast with a more universal concept of religion that runs the risk of falling into the ahistorical homo religiosus idea that humans are universally and even naturally religious. Second, this apophatic definition looks a bit elitist, defining religion in terms that are relevant to theologians and “religious virtuosi” (to use Weber’s term), but what about the ordinary believers, pew-fillers, temple-goers? In response to such criticism, one may reply that there is an apophatic strand in what Niebuhr called the religions of the disinherited. In Asia, devotion to the Buddha Amida is particularly popular among the poor, and this involves a transformation of the idea of anatta—no Self—into an external agency, a Buddha who is “without measure”, in terms of in-finite light and in-finite life. These are apophatic concepts. In the Christian New Testament, we are told that God “has chosen the foolish things of this world to shame the wise, the weak to shame the strong…, the things that are not to shame the things that are” (1 Corinthians 1:27). The things that are not are the apophatic, and these are allied with the foolish and the weak, not the educated and the powerful.One major reason for emphasising the role of apophasis in religious thought is to break away from the idea that the core of religion is an ethical one. This is argued by a number of “liberal religious” thinkers in different religious traditions. I appreciate their reasons, and I am reluctant to ally myself with their opponents, who include the more fundamentalist types as well as some vocal critics of religion like Dawkins and Hitchens. However, I said that I would return to Kierkegaard, and the reason is this. Kierkegaard distinguishes between the aesthetic, the ethical and the religious. Of course, religion has an aesthetic and an ethical dimension, and in some religions these dimensions are particularly important, but that does not make them central to religion as such. Kierkegaard regarded the religious sphere as radically different from the aesthetic or even the ethical, hence his treatment of the story of Abraham going to Mount Moriah to sacrifice his son, in obedience to God’s command. His son was not killed in the end, but Abraham was ready to do the deed. This is not ethical. This is fundamentally and scandalously unethical. Yet it is religious, not because it is unethical and scandalous, but because it pushes us to the limits of our understanding, through the waters of doubt, and then beyond.Were I attempting to criticise religion, I would say it should not go there, that, to misquote Wittgenstein, the limits of my understanding are the limits of my world, whereof we cannot understand thereof we must remain silent. Were I attempting to defend religion, I would say that this is its genius, that it can push back the limits of understanding. I do not believe in value-neutral sociology, but, in this case, I am attempting neither. ReferencesAldridge, Alan. Religion in the Contemporary World. Cambridge: Polity, 2000.Aquinas, Thomas. “Summa of Christian Teaching”. An Aquinas Reader. ed. Mary Clarke. New York: Doubleday, 1972.Armstrong, Karen. The Great Transformation. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2006.Barker, Eileen. New Religious Movements: a Practical Introduction. London: HMSO, 1989.Berger, Peter. 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