A rambling rebuttal of Martin Hagglund's intro to This Life.
To start, I don't think that the dichotomy Hagglund makes between the finite and the infinite is necessarily as solid as he affirms. God or Nature or the Infinite can be seen as a ground of being out of which a finite world arises and in which both existence and experience are possible (think of the Kabalistic conception of tsimtsum). In addition, that existence and experience is arguably all about relationships (this idea is embedded within the theology of social trinitarianism), and as such, our fragile life together in this place where the infinite is paradoxically transcendent and immanent is the stage on which these relationships are acted out and performed. The connection often made between art and the divine is made, I think, in relation to this creative activity, of striving to create and to connect with others or something greater. And it can be further argued that our ultimate purpose is fulfilled in and by these relationships.
Take Christianity, for instance. This idea of fulfillment through relationships is made explicitly in places like the New Testament, where Jesus compares what we do to one another to what we do to God, connecting not only the finite (secular) and infinite (religious) together, but making what we do within the context of our finite, shared lives together the centerpiece of religious life. To dismiss this is to dismiss the true heart of many, if not most, religions. In Christianity, once again, we have lines such as: "Love your neighbor as yourself." "Do to others whatever you would have them do to you." "What you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me." Etc.
In essence, instead of seeing the secular and religious, or finite and infinite, as two separate, antagonistic, and ultimately incapable categories, they should be seen as complementary, as two sides of the same coin. Buddhists might say things like samsara and nirvana are the same. Christians might say things like all are one under Christ. It's a nondual POV in which we find a synthesis between these two seemingly contradictory ideas or realities.
Another criticism Hagglund has with eternity or the infinite is the lack of motivation one would have once it was realized or immanent. But in a sense, the quest for eternity is never-ending, always unfolding, giving us an endless motivation, much like with the idea of progress. We are always striving towards this idealistic goal that may never be fully realized by us finite beings, nevertheless we strive on. And this motivation translates to the finite world precisely because that is the world in which we live and breathe and are stewards of. Because of the intimate connection between the finite (secular) and the infinite (religious), to disrespect the finite world and harm it or anything in it is to disrespect the divine and harm our connection to it. If God is love, and God is immanent in the world, then our love must extend to that world and each reflection of God contained therein, finite or otherwise. If the earth and all life on it is sacred, then even religious life (as opposed to secular life) can care about and be committed to the flourishing of finite life as we conventionally experience it as an end in itself. I'd even go so far as to say that, to live a truly religious life, you must learn to truly love others regardless of their finitude or eternal nature (assuming that's even a thing). Not out of fear or obedience or for some reward, but as an end in itself. "Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love." That is where I think both secular faith and religious faith meet. An immature understanding of religious faith is individualistic, transactional, and/or focused mainly on the infinite. A mature understanding of the religious, on the other hand, is communal, relational, and focused on interconnectedness.
Hagglund states that freedom requires finitude, and eternity equals unfreedom. But I think that's a false dichotomy in many ways. For one, as human beings, in terms of our bodies and personalities, we are finite, conditioned beings, and it's our surroundings and our own actions that condition and shape us. And I think religious faith is ultimately the same as Hagglund's secular faith in that the primary question of religious faith is the freedom and ability to ask what ought to be done with our time. The difference to me is that religious faith specifically asks a more pointed question, in my opinion, best articulated by the Buddha as exemplifying the beginnings of wisdom: What when I do it will be for my long-term welfare and happiness? In addition, eternity is better understood as lying outside of time. And while we are subject to time in these finite forms we call minds and bodies, regardless of whatever our innate nature may be, it is certainly not unintelligible to ask either question, particularly the latter. In fact, it is eminently intelligible to ask what will lead to long-term welfare and happiness and seek to do those things as religiously (i.e., consistently) as possible. Moreover, there's no guarantee of reaching the other shore of nirvana or union with God from our POV, only the possibility of achievement or realization of this independently existing reality or dimension, assuming such an experience itself is possible.
In the end, I look at this secular vs. religious dispute dialectically. The religious or philosophical 'musts' that Hagglund rails against are for the spiritually immature (children/synthesis), the 'oughts' that he champions are for the spiritually mature (adults/antithesis), and the experience of nondual consciousness is the domain of the awakened (wise elder/synthesis). And freedom also has its levels or dialectical relationships. The freedom of the undisciplined person, of a conditioned agent that lacks an ethical framework, is an immature kind of freedom. The freedom of a disciplined person, of a conditioned agent informed by an ethical framework, is a more mature kind of freedom. And the unconditioned transcends even the very idea of freedom or agency or time and space itself.
From the religious POV, it's not so much that eternity is absent; it's more so that our vision of it is obscured and we strive to no longer have to strive to glimpse it. And a large part of that striving is precisely what Hagglund argues we should do: use our freedom to ask what we ought to do, acknowledge our interconnectedness with those around us and embrace our shared vulnerability, and to act with love. Ultimately, however, either approach can be used skillfully or unskillfully. A secular approach can lead to nihilism and indifference as easily as a sense of responsibility. And a religious approach can lead to worldly indifference as easily as it can that same sense of responsibility born out of love.
