n theology, as in any academic discipline, there are games that ‘skilled’ practitioners sometimes play. One such is theological ping-pong, amusingly and ably described by Basil Mitchell in his essay “How to Play Theological Ping-Pong.”

He writes: “Theological ping-pong, as I conceive it, consists in stating two alternative positions… with the stipulation or the assumption that one or the other of them is true but not both.”

Of course, unless there really are two and only two alternatives, this is a logical fallacy (a particularly subtle form of begging the question). So though it may be fun for academic heavy-weights, playing the game of theological ping-pong should not really be good form. But it seems irresistible for many.

Examples fall into the hand for any student of theology. Mitchell gives a number of examples including some excerpts from Bultmann and Niebuhr.

“Revelation, they both, in effect, argue, is either (ping) a relationship here and now with the living God or (pong) a bare report in historical documents about something dead and done with. That it is the latter no one can seriously maintain (not pong). Therefore it is the former (ping).”

Nonsense, we’d want to say. Of course it’s nonsense. But it’s effective nonsense, that–being subtle–can carry a reader far along its path before depositing him, stunned, in some theological backwash filled with dirt and debris.

Mitchell further identifies a number of ‘advanced strategies’ in this theological game. Particularly noteworthy is the strategy of transcending ping and pong. Here Mitchell cites Tillich as example. Mitchell writes,

“Indeed it is doubtful if theological ping-pong has ever presented a more dazzling spectacle than Tillich transcending… [Tillich writes,] ‘If you start with the question whether God does or does not exist, you can never reach Him; and if you assert that He does exist, you can reach him even less than if you assert that He does not exist…’ Theism is ping, atheism pong; and the truth, known to Tillich, transcends both of them.

Well put, Mitchell! A particularly helpful tonic for those who encounter this sort of thing frustratingly often.