As difficult as it is, given the sea of tossed opinions which never ceases, one has to come down somewhere. And, having surveyed the options, I must confess that I am altogether smitten with phenomenology /fuh-naah-min-AAH-luh-jee/ as a philosophical method. It doesn't hurt that phenomenology is the largest and most important philosophical movement of the last 100+ years, either. Granted, it may not overcome Immanuel Kant (and actually could presuppose him); nevertheless, without resorting to pure fideistic assertion (where one's only proof is that one believes it to be so), it opens a window out of the iron-trap of empiricism (naturalism). Phenomenology does not make the mistake of forgetting that there are not just things, but persons. We do not simply run into rude objects during the wanderings of our lives, like blind bumper-cars, but consider ourselves, what we are up to, and what is about us. We value. We disregard. We consider, and are subject ourselves to the same such investigations made by other minds (nil est in intellectu quod non prius fuerit in sensu, nisi intellectus ipse.)
There are limitations, of course. Phenomenology can serve atheists as well as theists. It is just an instrument of the human mind. And, indeed, because it is so, it cannot ask from above. Phenomenology, as a method, doesn't have a divine point of view. It begins from where we stand; an earth-bound telescope for human eyes. Phenomenological questions are a human way of putting the problem. Its mechanism does not presuppose revealed truth.
Phenomenology is a tool, and, like any tool, one can use it sparingly or ruthlessly. Heretics, fools, the deluded, madmen, saints and scientists all use the same tools: it is in the manner of use that they differ (and suffer that difference.) The scientific method, to use a common example, is a perfectly good tool, yet, when overused, it becomes naturalism. Theology itself, no matter how good its intention, can fall into the same error. It, too, can forget that God is not a thing (das Seiend) among things (die Seiende). Indeed, phenomenology is not theology. It isn't a creed or confession. It doesn't, thus, protect against "the process option" or various Marxist theologies of liberation. It doesn't inoculate against panentheism.
So, what does it do? It does what it is: it is a method, a tradition of problems. It is the sonnet form to the Elizabethan poet. Yes, but what does it do for me? Ah! It allows me to pray with Augustine:
Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and Thy wisdom infinite. And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle of Thy creation; man, that bears about him his mortality, the witness of his sin, the witness that Thou resistest the proud: yet would man praise Thee; he, but a particle of Thy creation. Thou awakest us to delight in Thy praise; for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose in Thee. Grant me, Lord, to know and understand which is first, to call on Thee or to praise Thee? and, again, to know Thee or to call on Thee? for who can call on Thee, not knowing Thee? for he that knoweth Thee not, may call on Thee as other than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that we call on Thee that we may know Thee? but how shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? or how shall they believe without a preacher? and they that seek the Lord shall praise Him: for they that seek shall find Him, and they that find shall praise Him. I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached. My faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry of the Preacher. Confessions 1.1 trans. E.B.Pusey; emphases mine.)
