courtesy of Brad Holland. This was published in 1996, so more has happened since then, but mostly, it still applies.
Category Archives: Philosophy
A point of perspective
In the face of the resurrection it becomes finally impossible to think of our Christian narrative as only “our point of view,” our perspective on a world that really exists in a different, “secular” way.There is no independently available “real world” against which we must test our Christian convictions, because these convictions are the most final, and at the same time
the most basic, “seeing” of what the world is.—John MilbankMy thanks to the Rev. Dr. Ray Ortlund for posting this quote from Dr. Milbank’s book The Word Made Strange. It’s a profoundly important point; in particular, it’s a crucial rebuke to any purely subjective understanding of Christianity. We’re dealing here with a reality which is far greater and wilder than our subjectivity, and which shatters our comfortable reductionism.At the same time, the logic underlying Dr. Milbank’s argument is also a stiff challenge to secular pretensions of greater objectivity; for secularists, too, their convictions “are the most final, and at the same time the most basic, ‘seeing’ of what the world is.” We cannot, any of us, get outside ourselves to measure ourselves against reality apart from any presuppositions; we cannot see from no point of view.
Wise words on pride
Pride is a blossom of ashes—bitter in the mouth, sharp to the nose, stinging to the eyes, and blown away on the first wind from the mountains. Plant no pride, lest you harvest shame.—Proverb of AltiplanoThis proverb (and the whole society of Altiplano) comes from Elizabeth Moon’s novel Once a Hero; Moon’s one of the better writers of military science fiction around, and this is one of her best. I note the irony of posting a proverb from a fictional society so soon after posting the title sequence for a non-existent sitcom, but for all that it was created in the service of a Secondary World (to use Tolkien’s term), it has the ring of old truth, and is well worth remembering.
Interesting comment on being right
from this comment thread over on Lookout Landing (on a post well worth reading if you’re a baseball fan), from a commenter named Milendriel:
Bottom line is, there are people who want to be right and approach new information objectively, and then there are people who don’t want to admit they’re wrong—which is necessary to eventually be right; none of us were any good at evaluating from the outset.
Beautifully put, that. To be fair, I think we all need to realize that even the best of us spend at least some time in the second category—this isn’t a justification for beating up on people; we need to keep in mind that this isn’t about better people vs. worse people (which tends to mentally devolve to “us vs. them,” which is completely counterproductive), but rather about differing mental attitudes and approaches. As long as we do that, though, this formulation does as good a job of contrasting the approach that produces real growth and understanding (the former) with that which merely produces pride and folly (the latter) as anything I’ve seen. It’s not that we shouldn’t be concerned about being right; it’s that our concern should be for the real value of truth, and should thus be essentially disinterested and not about ourselves, rather than for being believed to be right, which is not about truth at all but rather about ego.
The order of decrees
For those who aren’t theology wonks, “the order of decrees” is a theological catchphrase dealing with a disagreement among Calvinist theologians. The phrase relates to the order in which God decided to decree, or determine, certain things; the dispute relates to the question of whether God decided to create people, then decided to permit the fall into sin, and then set the plan of salvation in motion, or whether he decided to create human beings in order to save some and not others. (That’s a very rough sketch of the difference between the positions, and not really fair to either of them, but I think it’s the best way to capture their difference for those who aren’t familiar with this discussion. If you are, my apologies, and I’ll be happy to have a serious conversation on the subject with you at some other point. If you aren’t but would like to be, go read the chapter for Boettner linked above.)It seems to me, though, that this is a concept and a question which is of value beyond simply the Reformed understanding of the Christian doctrine of salvation by grace. In particular, I think this is valuable in evaluating our political positions and our political philosophy if we apply it to ourselves: what is our own “order of decrees” with regard to the positions we choose to take and defend?What got me thinking about this was Chris Matthews (he of the tingly leg), and specifically his comparison of the first presidential debate and the VP debate: as Mary Katherine Ham pointed out, he argued that the Democrat won both—for mutually contradictory reasons. Had he been consistent, he would have had to score one of them as a win for the GOP ticket; so he scrapped consistency for the sake of ideology.Now, Matthews’ performance here is easy to mock, as a particularly blatant (and particularly ludicrous) example of bias trumping logic; but it’s also, I think, a valuable pointer to an approach to politics that we see all over the place. To borrow the “order of decrees” language, his decree of support for the Democratic Party and its candidates is prior to all his other decrees in this instance, and controls them. Therefore, his chain of reasoning and consequent analysis of the situation in front of him (the debates, in this case) is not independent, but is dictated by his a priori commitment to do what is best for the Democratic candidate; what matters is not that what he says is logically coherent or represents a rationally consistent position, but that it serves his agenda.As I say, though this is an especially obvious and risible example, I believe it’s something most of us do: we put our decree of which side we’re on ahead of our evaluations of people, positions, and situations. Rather than putting our governing principles first and trying to reason independently from them in each instance to determine what we think of this candidate or that, of this position or that, of this bill or that (and, yes, of this debate or that), we have the tendency to decide who we’re rooting for and who we’re rooting against and let that shape, or even determine, what we think about all those other matters. Chris Matthews did it in his debate analysis. More than a few people on both sides of the political aisle have done it with respect to Hillary Clinton and Sarah Palin—we’ve seen some of the arguments over Sen. Clinton reprised over Gov. Palin, only with the sides switched. Scads and scads of folks did it over the Paulson plan, because they’d already decided they were against “Wall Street fat cats.” It’s certainly a faster and more efficient way to come to conclusions, because it cuts out the need for all that time-consuming thought; that’s an especially strong temptation given the speed with which our world moves these days. What it isn’t, however, is a good way to build politics with integrity—or indeed, to build integrity in any area of life.
My favorite Justice
I meant to post this months ago, back when Phil first posted these on The Thinklings, but somehow or other I forgot to do so. I have tremendous admiration for Justice Antonin Scalia as a brilliant moral and legal thinker, a man of deep and strong principles, and a Catholic of deep Christian faith. I also appreciate his wit, and from what I’ve seen of him, I think he’d be an enjoyable and fascinating person to know. He is, of course, unpopular with the Left, since a) they don’t agree with him on much and b) he doesn’t pull his punches (and in fact, he often lands them pretty hard); but like him or hate him, he’s truly one of the major figures in the history of American constitutional jurisprudence, and so deserves to be considered and understood on his own terms.
The atheism of presumption and the case for God
The “New Atheists” have sold a lot of books and spun up a lot of media coverage; what they haven’t done, particularly, is make a very good case for atheism. Mostly, they preach to the converted and mock those who disagree with them; along the same lines as C. S. Lewis’ observation (in The Screwtape Letters) that not everyone can make a joke but anyone can talk about something as if it’s funny (which is how he defines flippancy), they’ve demonstrated that it’s easier to act as if something’s already been proven than it is to go out and prove it. Remove their assumption that atheism is the only intellectually respectable position, and there’s not a whole lot left.
Now, this wouldn’t matter if their assumption were correct; but it isn’t. In truth, as William Lane Craig notes in a recent article in Christianity Today, that point of view is behind the times. The relative weakness of the intellectual case for atheism was underscored when the world’s most important atheist philosopher, the man who first argued for “the presumption of atheism,” Dr. Antony Flew, abandoned atheism (a change of mind he discussed in interviews with Dr. Gary Habermas and Dr. Benjamin Wiker). Perhaps in part consequence, more and more of the younger generation of Christians have become interested in apologetics (the study of the defense of Christianity on rational grounds); as I’ve posted before, I wouldn’t be surprised if the primary long-term effect of the “New Atheists” and their work is not the growth of atheism but the growth of the church.
Skeptical theism
I linked to this by the by in my previous post, having discovered that it was up while I was looking for something else, but it really deserves its own: Edward Tingley has a stellar article in Touchstone called “The Skeptical Inquirer: If Only Atheists Were the Skeptics They Think They Are,” which I commend to your reading. It is, drawing on Pascal, a devastating frontal assault on the idea that the absence of scientific evidence for God is an argument against the existence of God. As Dr. Tingley says, “Skepticism raises the question, Is there any way forward after we have given up on material evidence? It certainly doesn’t answer it.”
Here are a few brief excerpts from the essay to whet your appetite:
Unbelievers think that skepticism is their special virtue, the key virtue believers lack. Bolstered by bestselling authors, they see the skeptical and scientific mind as muscular thinking, which the believer has failed to develop. He could bulk up if he wished to, by thinking like a scientist, and wind up at the “agnosticism” of a Dawkins or the atheism of a Dennett—but that is just what he doesn’t want, so at every threat to his commitments he shuns science.
That story is almost exactly the opposite of the truth. . . .
There are skeptical theists; Pascal was one. Skepticism and theism go well together. By a “skeptic” I mean a person who believes that in some particular arena of desired knowledge we just cannot have knowledge of the foursquare variety that we get elsewhere, and who sees no reason to bolster that lack with willful belief. . . .
Evidence is just not available to demonstrate the existence of God, said Pascal, who called himself one of those creatures who lack the humility that makes a natural believer. In that, he was of our time: We are pretty much all like that now. Three hundred and fifty years ago he laid out our situation for us: Modern man confronts the question of God from the starting point of skepticism, the conviction that there is no conclusive physical or logical evidence that the God of the Bible exists. . . .
This is where the modern person usually starts in his assault on the question, Is God real or imaginary?
This is base camp, above the tree-line of convincing reasons and knock-down arguments, at the far edge of things we can kick and see, and it is all uphill from here. Thus, it is astounding how many Dawkinses and Dennetts, undecideds and skeptical nay-sayers—that sea of “progressive” folk who claim to “think critically” about religion and either “take theism on” or claim they are “still looking”—who have not reached the year 1660 in their thinking. They almost never pay attention to what the skeptic Pascal said about this enquiry.
Instead, the dogmatic reflex, ever caring for human comfort, has flexed and decided the question already, has told them what to believe in advance of investigation and rushed them back to the safety of life as usual.
The modern thinking person who rightly touts the virtues of science—skepticism, logic, commitment to evidence—must possess the lot. But agnostics are not skeptical, half the atheists are not logical, and the rest refuse to go where the evidence is. None measures up in these modern qualities to Pascal.
I encourage you to read the rest—it’s truly a superb piece.
Dawkins, analyzed
I’ve written on Dr. Richard Dawkins and the rest of the “new atheists” once or twice (or maybe three times, or even four), so I was interested to see Dr. John Stackhouse reflect on a recent appearance Dr. Dawkins gave at the University of British Columbia (UBC, pronounced “you-bys-sey”). His comments are in three parts, evaluating Dr. Dawkins as rhetor, ethicist, and mirror (of the style and flaws of a certain type of Christian apologist and preacher); he has some interesting things to say, especially regarding Dr. Dawkins’ encounter with West Coast vegetarianism.
The God who speaks
“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you had known me, you would have known my Father also.
From now on you do know him and have seen him.”—John 14:1-7 (ESV)These words are much loved and much quoted, and I’m sure have been for as long as there has been a church. Perhaps the most interesting thing about this passage, though, is the basis for Jesus’ promise: it isn’t based on what he’s taught them so far, or even on his crucifixion and resurrection, but on the fact that he’s going to leave them. It’s his going away that makes the fulfillment of his promise possible. There are various aspects to this, but perhaps the most reassuring is that when Jesus ascended, when he returned to heaven, he wasn’t leaving us, he was leading us; he was going ahead of us to prepare our way, to show us the way, to be our way. That’s why he says, “If I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to myself, that where I am, there you may also be”; and that’s one reason why he sent us his Spirit, as the agent through whom he leads and guides us in this life, on the way toward the kingdom of his Father. Remember, “the earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it,” and he’s actively at work in and through all of it. Thus for us, the world is not silent, nor is God silent; rather, God is always speaking to us, and all of life is the medium through which he speaks.Most basically, of course, and most importantly, God speaks to us through the words he inspired, which include the record of the life he lived for us on this earth; it’s through the Bible first and foremost that Jesus leads us by his Spirit, as he continues to speak to us by his Spirit through these words, and he will not say anything that contradicts what he has already said. But that’s not the only way he speaks to us; it’s not the only way he guides us. He speaks through us sometimes as we talk with each other, making us agents of his wisdom; sometimes he may speak truth to us through people outside the church; he touches our minds and hearts through his creation, the natural world; and sometimes he speaks to us directly, in the back of our minds and the quiet of our hearts. I’ll never forget one time I was absolutely furious at someone—a couple someones, actually—and in my mind I heard Jesus say, “Show them grace.” I knew it was God, since it wasn’t what I wanted to hear, and I protested angrily, “They don’t deserve it.” To which he responded, “I know. That’s why it’s called grace.”Granted, most of the time God doesn’t speak to us quite that clearly; I suspect I was being unusually dense that day. But he does speak to us, and he does lead us, and we can trust that fact no matter what; what’s more, we can trust that he’s good enough at leading us to overcome how bad we often are at following him. We don’t need to worry or be anxious about that, for we can trust God for his grace; we simply need to do our part. We need to spend time with him, in reading his word (the main way we come to know him and recognize his voice) and in prayer—not just talking to him, though that’s important, but also being silent, listening for his voice—so that we learn to know him when he speaks; and we need to learn to expect him to speak, because he is at work leading us by his Spirit every day, in every moment. Christ came down to seek us out in our sin and rescue us from the power of death, and he’s busy right now bringing us home; and what he starts, he finishes. Period. End of sentence.(Note: those with a philosophical bent might find Edward Tingley’s article “Gadamer and the Light of the Word” a valuable reflection on this matter; though Gadamer was not a believer, he gives a better account of the Spirit’s work than many Christians, and Tingley has some excellent things to say on this.)