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What happens when a new philosophy emerges from a supposedly non‐philosophical field? Must it follow the norm whereby a form of philosophy is recognized to be at work in this area (by a recognized philosopher, but one operating as an outsider), or by some kind of philosopher manqué (a native within the field) being discovered at work there (by this same outsider)? In other words, can something only be deemed “philosophical” in view of an implied subject who thinks in a particular way, discovering thoughts similar to those found in established positions of philosophy? What, alternatively, would it mean to think of a supposedly non‐philosophy realm, such as process organization theory, as immanently philosophical? This chapter explores the conditions by which, far from merely illustrating or applying extant philosophy (“Theory”), Process Organization Theory might actually be seen to create its own novel philosophical thoughts, immanently. By examining the non‐philosophy forwarded by François Laruelle, and the manner in which time and process resist any attempts to theorize them (to make sense out of them), we will outline a way of seeing process as a kind of resistant thinking (an idea first put forward by Henri Bergson) and, therewith, Process Organization Theory as a new form of philosophy. Interdisciplinary thought, on this view, is not about applying philosophy, but consists in philosophy renewing itself (making itself unrecognizable) by acknowledging how non‐philosophical realms (art, technology, science) might be capable of creating new philosophical thoughts. With that, however, must also come a transformation of what we mean by philosophy and even thought itself.

This chapter responds to the three preceding analyses of Prayers and Tears, which it says can be reduced to Augustine's question, “When I love God, what do I love?” As a practical response to that question, Caputo responds to key points raised by the three analysts. First, David Wood's criticism of autobiographical philosophizing is countered by the possibility of universal truths, while his point about deconstructionism voiding religion is valid for nihilists, but invalid for affirmative deconstructionists seeking the existence of the impossible. Second, Edith Wyschogrod has made valuable clarifications regarding: the irreducibility of ethics to a mere social contract; the legitimacy of Nietschean–Levinasian dualism; the meta-phenomenological nature of Caputo's deconstruction; and Caputo's preoccupation with seeing the sublime in everyday life. Finally, Francis Ambrosio's comparison of Derrida and Dante is essentially correct, but Derrida's chora derives from darkness, not light, and this difference may be systemic.

This chapter reflects Jacques Derrida's growing attention to ethical questions in the 1990s, at a time when the author was beginning to study the work of Emmanuel Levinas. For Søren Kierkegaard, Abraham is the prime exemplar of the knight of faith. Like Kierkegaard, Derrida is horrified by the story of Abraham and Isaac. There is a long way from the terrible encounter with the almighty on Mount Moriah, and Derrida might seem to risk accusations of trivialising the Biblical narrative in translating it into this common domestic scene. David Wood's response does point to the extravagance of Derrida's depiction of responsible choice and resultant sacrifice as everyday, in fact second-by-second, occurrences. Kierkegaard's writing in Fear and Trembling and Derrida's in The Gift of Death stress that the responsibility to the other which concerns them cannot be explained or conveyed in philosophical language.

This chapter aims to present philosophy as a practice of responsibility that takes from religion resources for expressing and clarifying such responsibility. Building on the works of Heidegger and Derrida, Christian apologist David Wood puts forward a version of J. Z. Smith's approach to maps and territories, stating that even as our concepts allow us to understand the world, they do so at the expense of also hiding it from us. Philosophy's responsibility consists in dealing with that which the concepts conceal. However, theorizing philosophy through religion demands thinking the study of religion in terms of the pilgrim, which is problematic since a pilgrim hesitantly approaches his object of concern and is able only to make “fleeting contact.” Citing the works of Hent de Vries, Eric Santner, and Stanley Cavell, along with religion and theology, the chapter shows what such fleeting contact might look like and how it helps in rethinking the critical enterprise.