How Could We Not Sin in Heaven?

I've often wondered how God will bring it about that we will not sin in heaven. If God can bring it about that we not sin and yet retain our free will, then why did He not make it that way from the beginning? I think I've hit upon a partial solution, or perhaps a complete one. But first it is important to note that there is a distinction to make. In heaven, it will not simply be the case that we will not sin, but that we will be unable to sin. Does this crucial point mean that our choices will be somehow restricted, or even taken away altogether? How can we be free and obey God without the possibility of disobedience?

I would like to begin by making an analogy that will perhaps explain a bit of the situation. Each person, though all totally corrupted by sin (Romans 3), has differing desires for sin. I, for example, have no desire to indulge in drunkenness, though for others it is a serious temptation, and all have their own weaknesses. It could be the case that just as I have no desire to become drunk on my own, and that if anyone offered me the opportunity, I would reject it, in heaven this would be the case for all sins. Our inclinations would be such that if offered the chance to sin, we would freely reject it. But we can go even further. Only the righteous/saved will dwell with God in heaven (Revelation 21). Just as I will not only not choose drunkenness if it is offered to me, but will also not offer the choice to another (because of my own inclinations), no one in heaven will offer temptation to anyone else, because no one will be inclined at all toward any sin. So not only would we freely choose every time not to sin on our own, but the choice or temptation will never even be offered because no one will have sinful inclinations.

Does this capture the inability to sin, or is it simply a very strong form of the ability not to sin, which Christians (and only Christians) possess right now? I think that while the above may be helpful in imagining our state of mind in heaven, it does not quite capture our total inability to sin before God. Lenny Esposito points out (http://www.comereason.org/phil_qstn/phi039.asp) that God is unable to sin, though no one doubts He is totally free. Therefore it is indeed possible to be free and have an inability to sin. It could be that just as I (as a Christian not bound by my sin nature) am totally free (in the Sartrian sense of never being totally unfree), I do not have the ability to fly unaided. This does not essentially restrict my freedom (since we are not claiming a sort of radical freedom).

Granted, though, flying and making moral choices are not quite the same. For a complete understanding we must look to the Bible. 1 John 3:5-6, 9 state :

You know that He appeared in order to take away sins; and in Him there is no sin. No one who abides in Him sins; no one who sins has seen Him or knows Him. … No one who is born of God practices sin, because His seed abides in him; and he cannot sin, because he is born of God.

It is our partaking in the nature of God that provides us with the inability to sin, because God cannot go against His own nature, namely, absolute holiness. Esposito writes:

Because we have two natures that are at odds with each other, there is an inner struggle that exists in every believer. Romans 7 is dedicated to showing this struggle. However, upon death, the old man will pass away leaving only the new, divine nature. One of the most important passages to understanding this is found in Romans 6:4-7:

Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have become united with Him in the likeness of His death, certainly we shall also be in the likeness of His resurrection, knowing this, that our old self was crucified with Him, in order that our body of sin might be done away with, so that we would no longer be slaves to sin; for he who has died is freed from sin.

The last verse is key - "he who has died is free from sin." When we're saved and choose to be baptized, we die to ourselves and receive a new nature. This nature is in conflict with our old fleshly nature. When our bodies die, that old nature perishes completely as well, leaving the divine nature alone.

Now we return to one of the big questions I raised at the beginning: If God can bring it about that we not sin and yet retain our free will, then why did He not make it that way from the beginning? There is no easy answer to this question, and in the end we must trust God's wisdom. But Christian philosopher William Lane Craig writes that perhaps the only way heaven could exist would be as a result of our life on earth (http://www.origins.org/offices/billcraig/docs/craig-bradley0.html). He says:

Heaven may not be a possible world when you take it in isolation by itself. It may be that the only way in which God could actualize a heaven of free creatures all worshiping Him and not falling into sin would be by having, so to speak, this run-up to it, this advance life during which there is a veil of decision-making in which some people choose for God and some people against God. Otherwise you don't know that heaven is an actualizable world. You have no way of knowing that possibility.

There is also the very old concept of the felix culpa, or the happy fault. This idea, briefly stated, is that God allowed the Fall in order to bring about a greater good through the Incarnation of Christ and the salvation of our souls. As Aquinas writes in his Summa Theologica,

But there is no reason why human nature should not have been raised to something greater after sin. For God allows evils to happen in order to bring a greater good therefrom; hence it is written (Romans 5:20): "Where sin abounded, grace did more abound." Hence, too, in the blessing of the Paschal candle, we say: "O happy fault, that merited such and so great a Redeemer!" (http://www.newadvent.org/summa/4001.htm#3)

We see in the world that God allows some evil to occur in order to bring about a greater good, and so it can be inferred that if our relating to Christ in the way that we do now is the greatest and ultimate good, God might permit the entry of sin into the world in order to accomplish it.

This article in the New York Times points out that pantheism is the reigning religion of Hollywood, and makes good points toward the end about its tenability.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/21/opinion/21douthat1.html?_r=2

Beauty as a Property: Exploring God’s Role in the Beautiful

I have attempted all semester to lay out a convincing case for the objectivity of the beautiful. It has encouraged me to discover that I am not alone in my opinions, and that great philosophers and aestheticians like Hegel and Schelling also believe in beauty as an objective property of the object. And while I believe that a somewhat cogent argument can be made from a purely philosophical position for the objectivity of beauty, an entirely new and useful set of tools and evidences is opened up when we look at beauty through its place in philosophy of religion, or theology generally. I will therefore attempt to explore the existence of beauty through an assumption that God exists. If this assumption is true, what is the significance for the beautiful? Does God’s existence necessitate beauty’s role as objective or subjective, as property or reaction? Philosophical arguments in the mode of Hegel are generally undertaken from a position which, if not atheistic, is at least not based within a theistic worldview. It is my hope that through an evaluation of the characteristics of God I can demonstrate the objectivity of the beautiful and show that in a theistic universe beauty must be seen as a property.

Before we can attempt to answer questions about the role of the beautiful, we must first discuss what we mean when we speak of God. Generally, within the realm of philosophy of religion and in practical, street-level discussion, God is envisioned as “omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent,” shortened to “3-O.” This of course means that God is absolutely powerful, all-knowing, and perfectly good. This fits in well with the conception of God in any of the major monotheistic religions. I would expand on this definition and state that God is, as Kierkegaard defines Him, the absolute. He is the eternal source of all things and the Creator of the universe. He is at the same time personal and not a vague force or principle. This still falls within the generic monotheistic framework, but excludes deist gods and the anthropological gods of many modern theologians and philosophers. We will take this God as our starting point.

If God is the absolute, and the source of all that is good, as well as the creator of the universe, then it stands to reason that any and all good things find not only their source in Him, but their maximization. As Anselm of Canterbury states, God is “that-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought.” As a Person, God possesses certain attributes of character and qualities of being. Falling under the heading of absolute goodness, we find that God possesses qualities such as justice, mercy, love, peace, happiness, majesty, wisdom, and (most important for us) beauty, all of which are found in their maximal state. Since God exists forever, and has always been God, we can therefore see that He has always possessed these properties, and that they were never technically created, but existed from eternity in the attributes of God. Beauty, as an attribute of God, has therefore existed forever, independent of humanity’s experience of it. We will revisit this later.

If God is the possessor and absolute exemplar of all good-making properties, then God must be absolutely beautiful. This implies two things: that whoever looks upon God must recognize and feel Him to be beautiful, and that beauty is made up of degrees. Taking the first point first, we must now ask the question, “If there is an object (even if it be the only object) which all agree to be beautiful, then does this prove that the object has what we would call objective beauty?” And in response to the second point, we can ask, “If beauty admits of degrees, possessing an absolute maximum and an absolute minimum (nothing at all), is this the sort of thing we would expect to find were beauty a subjective reaction?”

If every single person experiencing a particular thing considers it to be beautiful, we could reasonably conclude that there must be something that all of these experiences have in common. If beauty were merely subjective, it would be almost statistically impossible for every single person to have ever lived to have the exact same sort of reaction (I do not say the exact same reaction, for reasons I will discuss below). There will always be those like Hegel who see the majesty of the Swiss Alps and are unfazed. But my intuition is that upon seeing God, one would be justified in stating, “He is objectively beautiful.” I would argue that the thing held in common, the thing that unites all beings in the recognition of the object as beautiful, is in fact the recognition of the property of beauty within the object.

Addressing now the second question, I would assert that a thing with a maximum and minimum, and gradations in magnitude between the two, is more readily described as a property than as a reaction. Reactions are subjective, and are quite similar to feelings, in that one cannot assign truth or falsity to its possession. One does not say, “I am incorrect in having such and such a reaction,” as one would say, “I am incorrect in identifying such and such a property.” Reactions (fright, nervousness, disgust) do not have points at which they could not be more than they are. However, properties (brightness, hardness, generosity) have definite maximums. This leads me to believe that beauty is a property and not a reaction.

It is therefore understood in what way beauty must be objective. But how are we to account for the widely varying tastes and aesthetic judgments which we see in the world? We can again look to God in order to provide an answer. God, as has already been established, is infinite and absolute. It is impossible for any single human being, with their limited capacity for reflection and understanding, to comprehend the totality of God’s existence. We can only begin to grasp the tiny portion of His character which He has demonstrated in our own lives, and (for any of the major monotheistic religions) trust in the communication of His attributes through direct revelation.

We can understand that God has many characteristics, each one of which is maximally present. We can have propositional knowledge of this, but experiential knowledge is problematic at best. God’s beauty can therefore be thought of as a great multi-faceted jewel, each side of which reflects light in a different and unique way. Humans are positioned all around this jewel so that there is a facet most easily visible to each person, and through which the light interacts and reflects to give an experience of the jewel. The experiences of each person looking at the jewel will be different, because each one sees a different facet of the great and cohesive whole.
In the same way, viewing some facets from a certain position may not be optimal, so that while the person positioned for one facet cannot fully enjoy or even appreciate another facet, viewed from the right perspective it becomes properly beautiful. Beauty remains objective, but the experience of it can differ wildly depending on the aspect of ultimate and perfect beauty which one is oriented toward. The aesthetic experience is then an intensely subjective reaction, manifested in a feeling, but triggered by an objective property. The experience of the beautiful is indeed subjective, but that subjectivity is a response to something that is really there.
Much of the arguments towards beauty as subjective lie in the equation of the experience of the beautiful with the beautiful itself. Many of our reactions to things such as properties which objectively exist can vary widely. For example, I dislike the taste of cheese, but I know many people love it. The taste is objective, even to the point of being scientifically reproducible, but my reaction to it is completely different than my brother’s. However, by equating the taste of the cheese with my reaction to that taste, I would be making a mistake. The taste remains the same and exists independently of my reaction to it. The same is true of beauty. Subjective reactions are engendered by objective impressions.

Some may object that beauty cannot be defined or rearticulated as other objective properties can. I would argue, though, that there are numerous objective properties which cannot be independently articulated or defined, but the insufficiency of language to account for an object does not in any way affect whether that object continues to exist outside of our perception of it. One would be hard-pressed to define being, for instance, at least not without devolving into a Heideggerian jumble of deliberate syntactical gymnastics. This does not make being subjective. There are simply some things which one is directly aware of, and are so obvious and pervasive that attempting to attach words to them becomes a challenge.

A final argument against the subjectivity of beauty is one I have made before, but believe to have some merit, if solely as a method of testing our intuitions about what we call beautiful. As stated above, if beauty is an attribute of God it has always existed. If beauty is a subjective reaction within the mind of a human being, then without human beings there would be no such thing as beauty. And since we have already established that beauty has always existed, and so existed before humans, beauty cannot simply be humanly subjective. God could, it may be argued, experience His own beauty, but I am hesitant to assign such a close parallel between human subjectivity and the Absolute of all that exists. In any case, beauty as reaction occurs not in the world but inside a mind. Without a mind, there is no reaction, and therefore no so-called beauty. If a flower blooms in the forest and no one sees it, is it beautiful? The answer would have to be no. It would of course have the potential to trigger a reaction within a mind, but until a mind experiences it the flower remains passive, aesthetically neutral.

My intuition revolts against this concept. The flower should be beautiful whether anyone sees it or not. And that is just the sort of occurrence that would arise if beauty were a property of things and not simply a mental reaction. The flower, or the mountains of a distant planet, or the face of God, all of these things are beautiful independent of human experience of them. This rings true to me, and I find it fits well within the preexisting theory of the objectivity of beauty.
In conclusion, there are points which, taken together, make what I believe to be a reasonable case for the objectivity of beauty: (1) Beauty is an attribute of God and is therefore an implied property; (2) beauty has existed eternally in God and therefore cannot simply be a human reaction; (3) there is something which everyone would admit to be beautiful once seen, namely, God (implying objectivity); (4) beauty admits of an absolute maximum and minimum, in the way reactions do not; (5) beauty and the experience of beauty are not identical, but the experience of beauty is the subjective reaction to an objective property; and (6) the inability to clearly articulate beauty does not rule out its objectivity. If one then see beauty as an attribute of God, one can argue for the objectivity of beauty in ways which pure philosophical discourse is unable to utilize.

Pietism and Early American Theology

The practice of Evangelicalism in the United States has become a touchstone of American culture and religious practice. But Evangelicalism did not emerge from a vacuum. As with any religious movement, it arose in response to many factors, including but not limited to previous religious systems of thought, cultural needs, and political positioning. While this essay cannot chart the complete course of Evangelical development in the United States, it can attempt to outline the possible influence of continental Pietism in shaping the theology of America’s early colonial evangelical leaders, such as Jonathan Edwards and George Whitefield. Similarities between the two movements cannot be denied, and will be briefly pointed out: particularly an emphasis on a changed life; the need for qualified, confessing ministers; contributions to mission work; and a revitalization of religious concern among ordinary men and women. Though it seems that many colonial Evangelicals (particularly Lutherans) were originally strongly opposed to Pietism, the passage of time and the situation in the Colonies softened this resistance and resulted in a significant mingling between the two groups (Tappert, passim). An examination of the thought of Jonathan Edwards, the most significant early American theologian, will perhaps yield insight into growing similarities in emphasis between Evangelicals and Pietists.

F. Ernest Stoeffler writes about Pietism, “Wherever it is found its ethos is manifested in a religious self-understanding which the author has characterized elsewhere as experiential, biblical, perfectionistic, and oppositive” (Stoeffler 9). Pietism can generally be described as a movement which stressed the importance of ethical, upright behavior by the Christian, in order to distinguish the saved person from the unsaved world. Philipp Jakob Spener is widely considered to be the one of the most important figures in early Pietism (Mullin168). He outlined in his most famous work, the Pia Desideria, his “proposals to correct conditions in the Church.” A short glance at the table of contents gives us the following suggestions: more extensive use of the Scriptures, exercise of the spiritual priesthood of all believers, emphasis on practice versus mere knowledge of Christianity, a change in the conduct of religious controversies, the reform of schools and universities, and preaching for the purposes of edification (Spener vii). He writes:

We do not understand the perfection which we demand of the church in such a way that not a single hypocrite is any longer to be found in it, for we know that there is no field of grain in which there are no weeds. What we mean is that the church should be free of manifest offenses, that nobody who is afflicted with such failings should be allowed to remain in the church without fitting reproof and ultimately exclusion, and that the true members of the church should be richly filled with many fruits of their faith. Thus the weeds will no longer cover the grain and make it unsightly, as is unfortunately often the case now, but the weeds will be covered by the grain and made inconspicuous (Spener 81).

A concern for proper Christian conduct was therefore motivated by a desire to present the Church as both appealing and effective in the presentation of the Gospel to the secular world. We can see in this a similarity to the emphasis placed upon godly living in modern Evangelical churches. Evangelical alternatives to worldly activities and entertainment such as music or movies, as well as the growing movement among conservative Evangelicals to home-school their children, all point to a desire to be distinct from the world in the same way that early Pietists advocated, and often for the same motivation.

In regard to the selection of ministers, Spener and the Pietists believed that only those who are called to ministry should be allowed to fill positions in the church. Spener wrote:
Since ministers must bear the greatest burden in all these things which pertain to a reform of the church, and since their shortcomings do correspondingly great harm, it is of the utmost importance that the office of the ministry be occupied by men who, above all, are themselves true Christians and, then, have the divine wisdom to guide others carefully on the way of the Lord. It is therefore important, indeed necessary, for the reform of the church that only such persons be called who may be suited, and that nothing at all except the glory of God be kept in view during the whole procedure of calling. This would mean that all carnal schemes involving favor, friendship, gifts, and similarly unseemly things would be set aside (Spener 103).
In a letter to Moses Lyman responding to the news that Lyman had taken it upon himself to preach to a congregation as a layman, Jonathan Edwards revealed his position, much like that of the Pietists, that the ministry is a calling and not a simple profession. Edwards reproved Lyman, writing:

And if there be no certain limits or bounds, but everyone that inclines may have liberty, alas! what should we soon come to? If God had not seen it necessary that such things [the ministry] should have certain limits and bounds, he never would have appointed a certain particular order of men to that work and office, to be set apart to it, in so solemn a manner, in the name of God (Edwards 302).

Most significant about this letter is Edwards’ approving mention of Gilbert Tennent, a Presbyterian Pietist then ministering in New Jersey (Edwards 303, footnote 9). Edwards notes that Tennent and he were of the same position in this matter. But more than this, the mention shows that Edwards was familiar with Pietist thought.

Randall Balmer writes that, “The most profound influence of Pietism is, once again, incalculable—its effect upon ordinary believers. For anyone reared within the evangelical subculture in America, with its parietal rules, its emphasis on personal piety, its proscriptions against alcohol, tobacco, and dancing, and its sabbatarian scruples, the continued influence of Pietism is self-evident” (Balmer 27). Pietism began as a movement to revitalize Protestant faith, and succeeded to a large extent. Spener’s emphasis on personal Bible study and devotionals (McGrath 146) as a method for growing in faith and applying Christianity to daily life would not make waves in any Evangelical church today. Edwards, of course, as a leader of the first Great Awakening, also greatly emphasized a personal, intimate relationship with God rather than an abstract intellectual knowledge.

It is a well-known fact that Evangelicals exert a great deal of effort and expense in their support of and participation in worldwide and localized missionary activities. While Evangelical Protestants did not begin to focus on missions in earnest until the Nineteenth Century, Moravian Pietists from Germany had established small missionary communities in Greenland, America, and Africa by 1750 (McGrath 178). As McGrath writes, “Pietistic and Evangelical forms of Protestantism, which emphasized personal conversion, were naturally oriented toward the idea of reaching out to those who were not converted. . . [they] saw this work as the natural extension of their calling as Christians” (McGrath 178). Jonathan Edwards also participated in missionary activity, working with communities of American Indians, especially Mohican and Mohawk groups (Smith xxiii).

Scholars such as Randall Balmer and F. Ernest Stoeffler have argued for the significance of Pietist influence on American Evangelicalism, and the views of both groups on four large issues have been shown to have been, if not identical, at least quite similar. Philipp Jakob Spener, the “father of Pietism,” and Jonathan Edwards, figurehead of the Evangelical Great Awakening, wrote and worked approximately fifty years apart—Spener in Germany and Edwards in the upper American Colonies. We know from correspondences that Edwards was familiar with Pietist thought to a certain extent, and that he approved of the work being done by Pietist ministers such as Gilbert Tennent and Theodore Frelinghuysen (Edwards). Whether Edwards ever read Pia Desideria is not known, much less how much explicit influence Pietism had on the development of Edwards’ theology. It could well be that Evangelicals and Pietists are similar because of an underlying commitment to Biblical values and principles, which worked themselves out in similar ways independently of one another. However, Tappert demonstrates that as time progressed and ministry positions became vacant, colonial Americans grew more and more accepting of small doctrinal differences. George Whitefield was even warmly welcomed to preach in Lutheran Pietist churches (Tappert 27). It is therefore not unreasonable to assume that Edwards and contemporary Pietists would hold substantial common ground.
Balmer argues that Evangelicalism in the United States emerged from a blending of two streams of Protestant thought: Puritanism and Pietism (Balmer 14). While it seems as if every American knows of their Puritan religious heritage, one seldom hears much about the debt American religious thought owes to Pietism. Indeed, one would be hard-pressed to find a non-specialist that has even heard of the Pietist movement. But it would seem as if, as much as the famous Jonathan Edwards, Philipp Jakob Spener had a hand in forming modern American Evangelical doctrine—a doctrine that seeks to uphold orthodoxy while boldly calling Christians to live out their faith in a real and effective way.


Works Cited

Balmer, Randall. Blessed Assurance: A History of Evangelicalism in America. Boston: Beacon Press, 1999. 13-30. Print.

Edwards, Jonathan. The Great Awakening. The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 4. Ed. C. C. Goen. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1972.

Edwards, Jonathan. "Letter to Moses Lyman, May 10, 1742." A Jonathan Edwards Reader. Ed. John E. Smith, Harry S. Stout, and Kenneth P. Minkema. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1995. Print.

McGrath, Alister. Christianity's Dangerous Idea: The Protestant Revolution--A History from the Sixteenth Century to the Twenty-First. New York: HarperOne, 2007. Print.

Mullin, Robert Bruce. A Short World History of Christianity. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008. Print.

Smith, Stout, and Minkelma, "Editor's Introduction." A Jonathan Edwards Reader. Ed. John E. Smith, Harry S. Stout, and Kenneth P. Minkema. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1995. Print.

Spener, Philipp Jakob. Pia Desideria. Fifth Printing. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980. Print.

Stoeffler, F. Ernest. "Introduction." Continental Pietism and Early American Christianity. Ed. F. Ernest Stoeffler. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1976. Print.

Tappert, Theodore. "The Influence of Pietism in Colonial American Lutheranism." Continental Pietism and Early American Christianity. Ed. F. Ernest Stoeffler. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1976. Print.

Blog is on indefinite hiatus.

Christ required "followers" and defined precisely what he meant: that they should be salt, willing to be sacrificed, and that a Christian means to be salt and to be willing to be sacrificed. But to be salt and to be sacrificed is not something to which thousands naturally lend themselves, still less millions, or (still less!) countries, kingdoms, states, and (absolutely not!) the whole world. . . And this in my opinion is the falsification of which official Christianity is guilty: it does not frankly and unreservedly make known the Christian requirement--perhaps because it is afraid people would shudder to see at what a distance from it we are living, without being able to claim that in the remotest way our life might be called an effort in the direction of fulfilling the requirement.

Soren Kierkegaard, "Attack Upon 'Christendom'"

We are always prevented from accepting total scepticism because it can be formulated only by making a tacit exception in favour of the thought we are thinking at the moment-- just as a man who warns the newcomer "Don't trust anyone in this office" always expects you to trust him at that moment....Everywhere, except in theology, there has been a vigorous growth of scepticism about scepticism itself.

C.S. Lewis, Christian Reflections

Yet, true though this is, it is not the whole matter. As we have already noted, it was unthinkable that God, the Father of Truth, should go back upon His word regarding death in order to ensure our continued existence. He could not falsify Himself; what, then, was God to do? Was He to demand repentance from men for their transgression? You might say that that was worthy of God, and argue further that, as through the Transgression they became subject to corruption, so through repentance they might return to incorruption again. But repentance would not guard the Divine consistency, for, if death did not hold dominion over men, God would still remain untrue. Nor does repentance recall men from what is according to their nature; all that it does is to make them cease from sinning. Had it been a case of a trespass only, and not of a subsequent corruption, repentance would have been well enough; but when once transgression had begun men came under the power of the corruption proper to their nature and were bereft of the grace which belonged to them as creatures in the Image of God. No, repentance could not meet the case. What—or rather Who was it that was needed for such grace and such recall as we required? Who, save the Word of God Himself, Who also in the beginning had made all things out of nothing? His part it was, and His alone, both to bring again the corruptible to incorruption and to maintain for the Father His consistency of character with all. For He alone, being Word of the Father and above all, was in consequence both able to recreate all, and worthy to suffer on behalf of all and to be an ambassador for all with the Father.

St. Athanasius, De Incarnatione

How have we learned Christ? It ought to be a startling thought, that we may have learned him wrong. That must be far worse than not to have learned him at all: his place is occupied by a false Christ, hard to exorcise! The point is, whether we have learned Christ as he taught himself, or as men have taught him who thought they understood, but did not understand him. Do we think we know him—with notions fleshly, after low, mean human fancies and explanations, or do we indeed know him—after the spirit, in our measure as God knows him? The Christian religion, throughout its history, has been open to more corrupt misrepresentation than ever the Jewish could be, for as it is higher and wider, so must it yield larger scope to corruption:—have we learned Christ in false statements and corrupted lessons about him, or have we learned himself? Nay, true or false, is only our brain full of things concerning him, or does he dwell himself in our hearts, a learnt, and ever being learnt lesson, the power of our life?

George MacDonald, Unspoken Sermons Second Series

A short quote from the very beginning of the book. It nicely summarizes what should be all of our attitudes to our own beliefs.

"I have attempted in a vague and personal way. . .to state the philosophy in which I have come to believe. I will not call it my philosophy; for I did not make it. God and humanity made it; and it made me."

G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

Why Do Christians Suffer? What About the Prosperity Gospel?

From John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, Book III, ch. 8

The pious mind must ascend still higher, namely, whither Christ calls his disciples when he says, that every one of them must “take up his cross,” (Mt. 16:24). Those whom the Lord has chosen and honoured with his intercourse must prepare for a hard, laborious, troubled life, a life full of many and various kinds of evils; it being the will of our heavenly Father to exercise his people in this way while putting them to the proof. Having begun this course with Christ the first-born, he continues it towards all his children. For though that Son was dear to him above others, the Son in whom he was “well pleased,” yet we see, that far from being treated gently and indulgently, we may say, that not only was he subjected to a perpetual cross while he dwelt on earth, but his whole life was nothing else than a kind of perpetual cross. The Apostle assigns the reason, “Though he was a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered,” (Heb. 5:8). Why then should we exempt ourselves 2017from that condition to which Christ our Head behoved to submit; especially since he submitted on our account, that he might in his own person exhibit a model of patience? Wherefore, the Apostle declares, that all the children of God are destined to be conformed to him. Hence it affords us great consolation in hard and difficult circumstances, which men deem evil and adverse, to think that we are holding fellowship with the sufferings of Christ; that as he passed to celestial glory through a labyrinth of many woes, so we too are conducted thither through various tribulations. For, in another passage, Paul himself thus speaks, “we must through much tribulation enter the kingdom of God,” (Acts 14:22); and again, “that I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death,” (Rom 8:29). How powerfully should it soften the bitterness of the cross, to think that the more we are afflicted with adversity, the surer we are made of our fellowship with Christ; by communion with whom our sufferings are not only blessed to us, but tend greatly to the furtherance of our salvation.

In the root of the word "faith" itself... there is implicit the idea of confidence, of surrender to the will of another, to a person. Confidence is placed only in persons. We trust in Providence, which we perceive as something personal and conscious, not in Fate, which is something impersonal. And thus it is in the person who tells us the truth, in the person that gives us hope, that we believe, not directly or immediately in truth itself or in hope itself.

Miguel de Unamuno

This is an excerpt from the apology of the Syrian patriarch Timothy before the Muslim Caliph Mahdi in Baghdad in 781. Among many other things, Timothy presents a parable about the true religion.

I replied to his Majesty: "O our victorious King, in this world we are all of us as in a dark house in the middle of the night. If at night and in a dark house a precious pearl happens to fall in the midst of people, and all become aware of its existence, every one would strive to pick up the pearl, which will not fall to the lot of all but to the lot of one only, while one will get hold of the pearl itself, another one of a piece of glass, a third one of a stone or of a bit of earth, but every one will be happy and proud that he is the real possessor of the pearl. When, however, night and darkness disappear, and light and day arise, then every one of those men who had believed that they had the pearl, would extend and stretch his hand towards the light, which alone can show what every one has in hand. He who possesses the pearl will rejoice and be happy and pleased with it, while those who had in hand pieces of glass and bits of stone only will weep and be sad, and will sigh and shed tears.

"In this same way we children of men are in this perishable world as in darkness. The pearl of the true faith fell in the midst of all of us, and it is undoubtedly in the hand of one of us, while all of us believe that we possess the precious object. In the world to come, however, the darkness of mortality passes, and the fog of ignorance dissolves, since it is the true and the real light to which the fog of ignorance is |89 absolutely foreign. In it the possessors of the pearl will rejoice, be happy and pleased, and the possessors of mere pieces of stone will weep, sigh, and shed tears, as we said above."

And our victorious King said: "The possessors of the pearl are not known in this world, O Catholicos."—And I answered: "They are partially known, O our victorious King."—And our victorious and very wise King said: "What do you mean by partially known, and by what are they known as such?"—And I answered: "By good works, O our victorious King, and pious deeds, and by the wonders and miracles that God performs through those who possess the true faith. As the lustre of a pearl is somewhat visible even in the darkness of the night, so also the rays of the true faith shine to some extent even in the darkness and the fog of the present world. God indeed has not left the pure pearl of the faith completely without testimony and evidence, first in the prophets and then in the Gospel. He first confirmed the true faith in Him through Moses, once by means of the prodigies and miracles that He wrought in Egypt, and another time when He divided the waters of the Red Sea into two and allowed the Israelites to cross it safely, but drowned the Egyptians in its depths. He also split and divided the Jordan into two through Joshua, son of Nun, and allowed the Israelites to cross it without any harm to themselves, and tied the sun and the moon to their own places until the Jewish people were well avenged upon their enemies. He acted in the same way through the prophets who rose in different generations, viz.: through David, Elijah, and Elisha.

"Afterwards He confirmed the faith through Christ our Lord by the miracles and prodigies which He wrought for the help of the children of men. In this way the Disciples performed miracles greater even than those wrought by Christ. These signs, miracles, and prodigies wrought in the name of Jesus Christ are the bright rays and the shining lustre of the precious pearl of the faith, and it is by the brightness of such rays that the possessors of this pearl which is so full of lustre and so precious that it outweighs all the world in the balance, are known."

"This is why I often find myself living at such cross-purposes with the modern world: I have been a converted Pagan living among apostate Puritans."

C.S. Lewis,Surprised By Joy

"Christ laid down one definite system of truth which the world must believe without qualification, and which we must seek precisely in order to believe it when we find it. Now you cannot search indefinitely for a single truth. You must seek it until you find, and when you find, you must believe. Then you have simply to keep what you have come to believe, since you also believe that there is nothing else to believe, and therefore nothing else to seek, once you have found and believe what He taught who bids you seek nothing beyond what He taught."

Tertullian, Apology

"So the soul, in some strange and evil way, is held under this kind of voluntary, yet sadly free necessity, both bond and free. It is enslaved because of the necessity, and free because it is a will. What is stranger and sadder still, it is guilty because free, and enslaved because guilty, therefore enslaved because free."

Bernard of Clairveaux

John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, Book II, Ch. 1

In examining ourselves, the search which divine truth enjoins, and the knowledge which it demands, are such as may indispose us to every thing like confidence in our own powers, leave us devoid of all means of boasting, and so incline us to submission. This is the course which we must follow, if we would attain to the true goal, both in speculation and practice. I am not unaware how much more plausible the view is, which invites us rather to ponder on our good qualities, than to contemplate what must overwhelm us with shame—our miserable destitution and ignominy. There is nothing more acceptable to the human mind than flattery, and, accordingly, when told that its endowments are of a high order, it is apt to be excessively credulous. Hence it is not strange that the greater part of mankind have erred so egregiously in this matter. Owing to the innate self-love by which all are blinded, we most willingly persuade ourselves that we do not possess a single quality which is deserving of hatred; and hence, independent of any countenance from without, general credit is given to the very foolish idea, that man is perfectly sufficient of himself for all the purposes of a good and happy life. If any are disposed to think more modestly, and concede somewhat to God, that they may not seem to arrogate every thing as their own, still, in making the division, they apportion matters so, that the chief ground of confidence and boasting always remains with themselves. Then, if a discourse is pronounced which flatters the pride spontaneously springing up in man’s inmost heart, nothing seems more delightful. Accordingly, in every age, he who is most forward in extolling the excellence of human nature, is received with the loudest applause. But be this heralding of human excellence what it may, by teaching man to rest in himself, it does nothing more than fascinate by its sweetness, and, at the same time, so delude as to drown in perdition all who assent to it. For what avails it to proceed in vain confidence, to deliberate, resolve, plan, and attempt what we deem pertinent to the purpose, and, at the very outset, prove deficient and destitute both of sound intelligence and true virtue, though we still confidently persist till we rush headlong on destruction? But this is the best that can happen to those who put confidence in their own powers. Whosoever, therefore, gives heed to those teachers, who merely employ us in contemplating our good qualities, so far from making progress in self-knowledge, will be plunged into the most pernicious ignorance.

http://www.ccel.org/ccel/calvin/institutes.iv.ii.html

But precisely this is the misfortune, and has been the misfortune, in Christendom that Christ is neither the one nor the other — neither the one he was when living on earth, nor he who will return in glory, but rather one about whom we have learned to know something in an inadmissible way from history — that he was somebody or other of great account. In an inadmissible and unlawful way we have learned to know him; whereas to believe in him is the only permissible mode of approach.

Soren Kierkegaard, Preparations for a Christian Life

Why Would an All-Powerful God Care About Me?

It has often been contended that it is rather arrogant of us to assume that God, the Creator of the universe, should be interested at all in the life or problems of an insignificant mote in the eye of existence such as a single human being, or even humanity as a whole. However, it can easily be shown that this concern is unfounded and even contains within it the seed of its own demise.

An all-powerful God, which He must be if He exists (otherwise He is no God, but simply a very powerful being), should also be One of infinite intelligence and infinite powers of observation. He could comprehend at once the arrangement of every particle in the universe, and still have infinite mental power left over with which to perform any and all mental processes, separately or even all at once.

If such is the case, it is completely understandable that God should be intimately concerned with the 44,675,883rd grain of sand in the Sahara Desert, much less a rational being such as a human. This becomes even more the case when we remember that we are the only beings we know of with such powers of rational thought. God could of course concern Himself with humans, as it would be no exertion on His part whatsoever. Why should He not care about us?

"Christianity does not involve the belief that all things were made for man. It does involve the belief that God loves man and for his sake became man and died."

C.S. Lewis, Miracles, ch. 7

From John Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion, Book I, Chapter 2.

1. By the knowledge of God, I understand that by which we not only conceive that there is some God, but also apprehend what it is for our interest, and conducive to his glory, what, in short, it is befitting to know concerning him. For, properly speaking, we cannot say that God is known where there is no religion or piety. I am not now referring to that species of knowledge by which men, in themselves lost and under curse, apprehend God as a Redeemer in Christ the Mediator. I speak only of that simple and primitive knowledge, to which the mere course of nature would have conducted us, had Adam stood upright. For although no man will now, in the present ruin of the human race, perceive God to be either a father, or the author of salvation, or propitious in any respect, until Christ interpose to make our peace; still it is one thing to perceive that God our Maker supports us by his power, rules us by his providence, fosters us by his goodness, and visits us with all kinds of blessings, and another thing to embrace the grace of reconciliation offered to us in Christ. Since, then, the Lord first appears, as well in the creation of the world as in the general doctrine of Scripture, simply as a Creator, and afterwards as a Redeemer in Christ,—a twofold knowledge of him hence arises: of these the former is now to be considered, the latter will afterwards follow in its order. But although our mind cannot conceive of God, without rendering some worship to him, it will not, however, be sufficient simply to hold that he is the only being whom all ought to worship and adore, unless we are also persuaded that he is the fountain of all goodness, and that we must seek everything in him, and in none but him. My meaning is: we must be persuaded not only that as he once formed the world, so he sustains it by his boundless power, governs it by his wisdom, preserves it by his goodness, in particular, rules the human race with justice and Judgment, bears with them in mercy, shields them by his protection; but also that not a particle of light, or wisdom, or justice, or power, or rectitude, or genuine truth, will anywhere be found, which does not flow 41from him, and of which he is not the cause; in this way we must learn to expect and ask all things from him, and thankfully ascribe to him whatever we receive. For this sense of the divine perfections is the proper master to teach us piety, out of which religion springs. By piety I mean that union of reverence and love to God which the knowledge of his benefits inspires. For, until men feel that they owe everything to God, that they are cherished by his paternal care, and that he is the author of all their blessings, so that nought is to be looked for away from him, they will never submit to him in voluntary obedience; nay, unless they place their entire happiness in him, they will never yield up their whole selves to him in truth and sincerity.

2. Those, therefore, who, in considering this question, propose to inquire what the essence of God is, only delude us with frigid speculations,—it being much more our interest to know what kind of being God is, and what things are agreeable to his nature. For, of what use is it to join Epicures in acknowledging some God who has cast off the care of the world, and only delights himself in ease? What avails it, in short, to know a God with whom we have nothing to do? The effect of our knowledge rather ought to be, first, to teach us reverence and fear; and, secondly, to induce us, under its guidance and teaching, to ask every good thing from him, and, when it is received, ascribe it to him. For how can the idea of God enter your mind without instantly giving rise to the thought, that since you are his workmanship, you are bound, by the very law of creation, to submit to his authority?—that your life is due to him?—that whatever you do ought to have reference to him? If so, it undoubtedly follows that your life is sadly corrupted, if it is not framed in obedience to him, since his will ought to be the law of our lives. On the other hand, your idea of his nature is not clear unless you acknowledge him to be the origin and fountain of all goodness. Hence would arise both confidence in him, and a desire of cleaving to him, did not the depravity of the human mind lead it away from the proper course of investigation.

For, first of all, the pious mind does not devise for itself any kind of God, but looks alone to the one true God; nor does it feign for him any character it pleases, but is contented to have him in the character in which he manifests himself always guarding, with the utmost diligences against transgressing his will, and wandering, with daring presumptions from the right path. He by whom God is thus known perceiving how he governs all things, confides in him as his guardian and protector, and casts himself entirely upon his faithfulness,—perceiving him to be the source of every blessing, if he is in any strait or feels any want, he instantly recurs to his protection and trusts to his aid,—persuaded that he is good and merciful, he reclines upon him with sure confidence, and doubts not that, in the divine clemency, a remedy will be provided for his every time of need,—acknowledging him as his Father and his Lords he considers himself 42bound to have respect to his authority in all things, to reverence his majesty aim at the advancement of his glory, and obey his commands,—regarding him as a just judge, armed with severity to punish crimes, he keeps the Judgment-seat always in his view. Standing in awe of it, he curbs himself, and fears to provoke his anger. Nevertheless, he is not so terrified by an apprehension of Judgment as to wish he could withdraw himself, even if the means of escape lay before him; nay, he embraces him not less as the avenger of wickedness than as the rewarder of the righteous; because he perceives that it equally appertains to his glory to store up punishment for the one, and eternal life for the other. Besides, it is not the mere fear of punishment that restrains him from sin. Loving and revering God as his father, honouring and obeying him as his master, although there were no hell, he would revolt at the very idea of offending him.

Such is pure and genuine religion, namely, confidence in God coupled with serious fear—fear, which both includes in it willing reverence, and brings along with it such legitimate worship as is prescribed by the law. And it ought to be more carefully considered that all men promiscuously do homage to God, but very few truly reverence him. On all hands there is abundance of ostentatious ceremonies, but sincerity of heart is rare.

http://www.ccel.org/ccel/calvin/institutes.iii.iii.html

"If war is ever lawful, then peace is sometimes sinful."

C.S. Lewis, God in the Dock

I've decided to start posting a bit more regularly, but the problem is I don't have the time to think up and write a new post every day. I will, however, try to post some quote or link or verse which I think is good. So here's one for today, taken from C.S. Lewis's The Problem of Pain, chapter 10:

Each of the redeemed shall forever know and praise some one aspect of the divine beauty better than any other creature can. Why else were individuals created, but that God, loving all infinitely, should love each differently?

Is There Truth in Beauty?

The relationship between truth and beauty is in some ways similar to that of beauty and goodness. But when we ask ourselves whether there is truth in beauty, we are usually saying not that beauty is a signpost to truth, as is the case with goodness, but that the higher principle (truth) is in some sense contained within the concept of beauty. Therefore the relationship between truth and beauty is not identical to that of goodness and beauty, but is if anything more intimate. Beauty and truth may be related in two ways, each of which depends on the metaphysics with which we deal with beauty. Is beauty a property of a thing, or a reaction to that thing? That is, is it objective or subjective? While it seems as if most philosophers would come down on the side of subjectivity, it can be beneficial to consider both sides of the issue.

If beauty is a property, then the truth contained within it is truth about the world. At the very least, the beauty which is evident demonstrates the truth of itself. Beauty, if a property, becomes demonstrable in the very fact that it exists and is experienced, and so through the very fact of experience it reveals truth about the beautiful object. The truth “this is beautiful” is communicated in the same instance that we recognize the beauty in the object. Much the same as the truth “this is red” or “this is nine inches wide,” beauty-as-property contains the minimum of truth in the demonstration of itself, thus communicating a fact about the object being experienced.

Beauty-as-property means that beauty is objective. It is, by its very definition, not something which exists in our minds but something which exists in the object. We then recognize that property we call beauty in the object, that is, in the universe outside our own heads (or in a specific part of that universe). As a result of this, any truth contained within the beautiful is a truth about the world, as stated above. What we find to be true in the beautiful exists, as it were, independently of our experience of it. What sorts of truths would we then find?

Delving into philosophy of religion, we find a common conception of God as possessing three “transcendental properties:” truth, goodness, and beauty. Peter Kreeft, in his essay “Lewis’s Philosophy of Truth, Goodness and Beauty” writes: “Our minds want not only some truth and some falsehood, but all truth, without limit. . . Our desires, imaginations, feelings or hearts want not just some beauty and some ugliness, but all beauty, without limit. . . For these [truth, goodness, and beauty] are the only three things that we never get bored with, and never will, for all eternity, because they are three attributes of God” (Baggett 23).

It seems, therefore, that the truths we find in beauty could be truths about God. God is revealed through His attributes. God, the Truth of all truth, that which is more true than any other thing and which would be true were all other things false, is God, Beauty of all beauties, beside which all other beautiful things are ugly and the source and reflection of beauty in all lesser things. The experience of beauty-as-property could therefore be an experience of God, and if it is an experience of God then it is also an experience of truth, and quite possibly of absolute truth.

If beauty is a reaction, the truth within beauty is subjective, and is truth about ourselves. We experience an object and do not see it to be beautiful, but see it to be beautiful. That which we experience does not possess the property ‘beautiful,’ but engenders the reaction within the subject which is identified as an experience of beauty. Therefore the aesthetic experience occurs not between an object and subject, where the subject identifies facts about the object, but instead within the subject’s consciousness, with the object acting as a catalyst or spark through which to undergo the beautiful reaction.

This means that, if beauty is a reaction, when and if we experience truth in beauty, we are not given access to truths that exist anywhere but inside our own minds. There is nothing about the object which admits of the descriptor “beautiful,” and so whatever truth we see within it is either a truth about the reaction taking place, i.e. “I am having an experience of beauty,” or contained and directed toward our own consciousness, which is the ultimate source of the reaction to the object. Note that if beauty is a reaction, there is nothing beautiful without human experience of it. An object’s beauty is dependent upon our evaluation of it. There is no proposition “This is beautiful;” there is only “I think this is beautiful.” When the “I think” of the statement is removed (or before it arrives) objects merely exist without aesthetic properties. The first sunrise over a newly-formed Earth and the wheeling of undiscovered galaxies are not beautiful, because we never experience them.

It would seem that beauty-as-reaction lends itself to the expression of truths such as “I enjoy x” or “y is aesthetically pleasing to me,” but those truths are intensely subjective, and are in point of fact more like opinions than meaningful truth claims. To put it simply, we may discover truths about ourselves through beauty-as-reaction, but those truths will be only facts about our preferences. An aesthetic experience will amount to a recognition of the world as a lens through which our minds impose meaning upon the universe, assigning values of beauty and pleasure to objects totally devoid of such attributes, truly shaping the way we view existence.

So while the truth contained within beauty is far more limited than the truths received through ordinary experience, they are in a certain sense more unassailable. When beauty is a property, we may indeed mistake our awareness of something for an awareness of beauty, but the fact is firmly planted in the outside universe and independent of our experience of it. However, if beauty is a reaction, our sense of the beauty of something is always true, and we cannot be mistaken. Just as one cannot be mistaken that they are in pain (only perhaps confused regarding language), one cannot be mistaken in regards to subjective beauty. In other words, beauty-as-property can be doubted/mistaken by the subject, but true independent of that subject; while beauty-as-reaction cannot be doubted/mistaken by the subject, but is only true as long as the subject experiences that reaction.

Values in Light of Eternity: The Language of Death

We often speak about death as an ending, or a cessation of life. I would wager that death as an end is what we are referring to in over 90 percent of the instances in which we talk about it. And it's understandable. Our most present example of death is physical death. And the most evident property of physical death is its physical effect, and the (apparent) cessation of consciousness. But according to Christianity, that is not the whole story. In fact, there is no instance in which a person ceases to exist in Christian theology. We must reformulate our language of death.

There are in general three types of death (I do not take credit for these categories or definitions, though I don't remember whose they are): spiritual death, physical death, and eternal death, also called Hell. In none of these deaths does a person cease to exist. Death is instead a separation, whether from the body or from God. Only the third is permanent. All of these deaths result from sin, and without sin we would not experience any of them.

Death as separation rather than cessation obviously has implications for how we live our lives. But what are they? We are all eternal entities, so there is really no such thing as death-as-cessation. An unbeliever suffers all three deaths-as-separation. Christians, however, are cured from one kind of death (spiritual), saved from another (eternal), and conquerors of the last (physical). Christ's atoning death on the cross turned the greatest fear of this world into the gateway to the next one. Death is no longer a punishment for sin, but a method of uniting with Christ (see Grudem, Systematic Theology, chapter 41). The separation of our spirits from our bodies becomes the uniting of our spirits with God. We therefore subsume death into Life.

To a Christian, there is no form of death over which we do not have victory. However, the absence of death-as-cessation means that what we choose in this life does not end at physical death, but carries on into eternity. While believers will be perfected no matter what they do in this life, this consequence means that non-believers are left to grow in their sin for eternity, as their faults and iniquities grow gradually larger and larger. It is obviously essential that they be saved and so be removed from death.

Christians, though, can be encouraged and say with I Corinthians 15:54-55, "Death has been swallowed up in victory. O Death, where is your victory? O Death, where is your sting?"

Examining Presuppositions of Kierkegaard's Existentialism

I originally posted this on the Rhodes Existentialism blog, found here. I decided to re-post it along with the comments it received.
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Perhaps I am not familiar enough with the school, but it seems to me that there may be an underlying presupposition to existentialist thought that I would like to examine. Why is the individual more important than the collective? Why is it important that we are free? Are we so sure that meaning must be created and not found? It seems that some people may, in their eagerness to rid themselves of Hegel and his System, swung to the opposite extreme and not considered the reasons for the assumptions that they make. Then again, perhaps I am simply missing an obvious point, or I have yet to come across it. I would appreciate any clarification.

I do, as a matter of fact, think that the individual is more important than the government, or the state, or most collective groups, because it is my belief that the individual will exist forever, and to the life of a single soul the history of states is a passing dream, but I would not be so quick to discount all collective interests. For me, the Christian church would be an instance in which sometimes (and perhaps many times) the interests or desires of an individual should be subjugated to that of the collective. Personal autonomy may be a good thing, but it is not the only thing, and our freedom is not for me our highest good.

But again, I have an extremely limited knowledge of existentialist thought, and would appreciate correction.

Values in Light of Eternity: Body Image

Paul says in Romans 8:18, "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us." In light of the eternal duration of our lives, the extent of our present condition is so comparatively brief as to be virtually nothing. We must keep this in mind when evaluating what is truly important. We will begin with body image.

Society obviously places a great deal of emphasis on physical appearance and consequently gives some people unrealistic expectations about body image and their own self-worth. What this post will attempt to do is provide a new perspective on body image which will hopefully be of some help to those dealing with such issues.

The Bible tells us that the body is good, contrary to many other religions and schools of thought. God made us to be both physical and spiritual beings, and we will remain that way. The Christian hope is in a bodily resurrection, that is, physical and not only spiritual. We know that Jesus is the "firstfruits of them that slept," or the first sort of new Man. His body was a physical one, capable of eating fish, but it also exerted new power over the physical world. I Corinthians 15, and especially verses 35-58, tell us that the spiritual body will be perfect, incorruptible, glorious, and powerful.

In light of the point made above in Romans, we see that our current physical bodies are ephemeral-- fleeting and impermanent. The bodies Christians will have for the vast majority of their lives will be perfect and glorious ones. In essence, being overly concerned about the appearance or state of my current body is comparable to being overly concerned about food stuck in my teeth.

We must be careful, however. This realization should not lead us to abuse or misuse our bodies. The Bible says in I Corinthians 6:19 "Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own?" We must care for our bodies as temples, but we must not make them gods.

Values in Light of Eternity: Introduction

As the mood strikes me, I will periodically post an installment in this series, Values in Light of Eternity. What this series aims to do is reconsider what we deem important in light of the fact that we live forever. Certain things will take on far more gravity, and some things which we think crucial now will seem trivial. As far as I am able, I will provide Scriptural backing for why we should reconsider these things.

The first installment will most likely be posted tomorrow, and will deal with body image and physical appearance.

How Can I Know Souls Exist?

A poll was taken in class today as to whether we believed in something in us that is not simply our bodies (a soul, or something similar). A large number of people raised their hands to indicate that they didn't believe they had an immaterial soul. The question of how one can know if one has a soul or not was, I thought, a good one to write about.

The gospel is coming up against some rather unusual attacks in recent decades. One finds, more and more, that people do not believe themselves to be sinners, and that if they do, they don't admit it. It is a serious problem for the presentation of the gospel as a means of life if people don't believe they're dead. But another criticism of what was once presupposed to be self-evident is physicalism.

Physicalism simply means that the physical is all there is, and that all there is can be explained in terms of physical means. The consequence of this is elimination of souls (sometimes minds) and the supernatural in general. How can a Christian defend against this?

I think the first thing to do is to present the physicalist with some examples of things which are self-evidently true without physical instantiation, or things which must be true in all possible worlds. For example, the fundamental laws of logic are not only true in this world, but must be true in any possible world. They require no physical evidence for us to see their truth, and do not depend in any way on the physical world for their truth. Once you admit that something cannot exist and not exist at the same time and in the same sense, you will have established that there are things which exist independent of the physical universe (and if you take the case of mathematical propositions, an infinite number of things, at that).

So we are agreed that the soul is immaterial, and that immaterial things exist. But what exactly is a soul, and how do we know that that particular immaterial thing exists? I would define the soul as the (immaterial) seat of reason, intelligence, and personality. Some would argue that all of these can be explained physically, but Lewis shows in his argument from reason that rationality cannot be purely explained by physical causes without removing the basis for rationality itself. I do not have the space here to make a full account of his argument, but it can be found throughout his book Miracles.

I am not saying that there is no physical element in the explanation of these properties, only that it is not the full explanation. If we can even only establish that reason or our capability to comprehend truth cannot (and never can be) fully explained in terms of physical causes we have a large hole in our view of self, something which the Christian faith (and others) offer to fill.

Christianity gives us a theory regarding that gap in our selfhood, and at that point the question becomes probabilistic to a certain extent. If there are no other satisfying explanations, and Christianity (or any other religion) offers an account which provides one, we must weigh which of these accounts seems most likely, and we will be epistemically justified in believing that account.

Is There Objective Beauty?

As I mentioned in my previous post, I am currently taking a class on aesthetics, which, for those of you not familiar, is the philosophy of beauty (more or less). As I also mentioned, I've never taken a course in this area before and it's raising some very interesting questions. For example:

The Bible says in Colossians 1:15 that Christ is the "image of the invisible God, the firstborn of every creature." Is an image necessarily inferior to the thing being represented? Or should we reject the ancient Greek notion of mimesis altogether and hold that images do not have to have implied referents? What does that mean for this verse?

Why does beauty transcend language? Dr. Kyle Grady says that at the same time that beauty compels us to speak it robs us of our words. Can we find a justification for this in Christian thought?

Is there such a thing as objective beauty? From whence would it be derived, and how could we know it? What does Christianity have to say about this?

I'll be responding to each of these questions in upcoming posts, but I want to begin with the last one, which in a way rather shows my hand in regards to my personal philosophy of beauty.

I believe that beauty is indeed objective, though it comes to us subjectively. Beauty is an attribute of God, and as all Divine attributes is eternal, absolute, and universal. God's other attributes (truth, goodness, justice, power, etc.) are all the source from which we draw our conceptions of these things in the world, and I think it is the same with beauty. Just as all of these other attributes have an absolute (and thus objective) reality or fulfillment in God, so absolute (and thus objective) beauty can also be found there.

We see reflections of this perfect beauty in the world, in varied and diverse places, all of which give us a glimpse of that true, perfect beauty beyond this world (forgive me for sounding Platonic), in God. So the different reflections of this attribute, each impacting us in different ways and to different degrees, are all facets of ultimate and objective beauty. So while it may seem that beauty is subjective on one level, of we "zoom out" and consider God, we can see that objective beauty exists because it finds its absolute in Him.

Something About the Tone/ Pro-Life Dialogue

I just wanted to let readers know that not all of my posts are going to be quite as academic as the last one. I will periodically be posting some of my papers which I think most appropriate for this blog, and those may have a bit more verbose or technical language than more casual posts. They will also be rather longer, so don't feel like you have to free up your calendar to read this blog.

Classes start tomorrow, and I'm fairly excited to be learning more about existentialism and aesthetics, two fields in which my knowledge is somewhat limited.

My roommates and I were talking today about the abortion controversy. We agreed that one of the reasons the two sides of the debate have such trouble talking to one another is the divergence in definition of certain terms, namely: life, person, body.
Pro-choice advocates feel as if they have a right to choose what happens to them and to their own bodies. Pro-life proponents would most likely agree with that simple idea, but disagree on the referent. To a pro-life person, the fetus is a person, not a part of the mother. It is not a question of what the mother is doing to her own body, but what she is doing to the other inside of her.

John said that he thought the pro-life position was more suited to the liberal side than the conservative, by the fact that protecting the helpless/defenseless is a defining trait of the leftist camp, and opposing abortion is simply carrying the idea further. Something interesting to think about, but it still comes down to the definition of terms. A respectful explanation of what each side means by certain words may help a little in conversations between the two groups.

Agent Causation and Frankfurt-Type Examples

In his article, “Alternate Possibilities and Moral Responsibility,” Harry Frankfurt presents his argument that the principle of alternate possibilities is false. This principle, simply put, states that for a person to be held accountable (morally responsible) for an action, they must have been able to do otherwise. This seems to hold in the event that a person is coerced into an action, or that that action was the only one available to them, or that they were in some other way “forced” into that action. However, Frankfurt presents what has come to be known, appropriately, as a “Frankfurt-type” example, in which he seems to demonstrate that a person should at the same time be held morally responsible while being unable to do otherwise. Frankfurt, being a compatibilist, wishes to show that determinism and free will can coexist. But what happens to the principle of alternative possibilities if we are not compatibilists? What if we are instead proponents of agent causation? Does Frankfurt’s example still hold? It is my contention that while Frankfurt does indeed prove that the law of alternative possibilities is not logically necessary, an agent-causation view of free will creates problems for Frankfurt’s example.

Let us first examine Frankfurt’s example and what it shows before altering it to fit our purposes. In the most appropriate iteration of his Jones case, Frankfurt has a certain unsavory character named Black hiding in the background, waiting to intervene in Jones’s life if Jones does not do as Black desires. Once Jones begins to seem as if he will perform a certain action that Black is opposed to, then Black will intervene in whatever way necessary to bring it about that Jones does as Black desires. The way in which Black intervenes is not important; it could be anything from magic to neurosurgery. Whatever the method, the success of the intervention is guaranteed. When the fateful choice is made, though, Jones instead decides on his own to choose that outcome which Black desires, and therefore Black does not intervene at all. This example is supposed to show that Jones is morally responsible for his action because he performed it based on his own choices, though at the same time he could not have done otherwise because of the Black’s intervening in the event that Jones seems as if he will choose differently.

This example obviously demonstrates that it is logically conceivable that there can be a case in which a person is morally responsible and yet at the same time unable to do otherwise. Let us set aside the problem of how Black determines when Jones will decide on a certain action and simply take it for granted that Jones does indeed decide on his own to do as Black wishes. We can very easily conceive of such a situation’s coherence, and thus the point that Frankfurt is trying to prove becomes logically possible. All it takes is conception.

Let us now consider an alternate example, one in which a formulation of agent causation comes into the picture. Let it also be the case that the agent is immaterial, for example a soul. Black desires that Jones performs a certain action, and will do whatever it takes to make certain that the desired action does indeed come about. At the moment of choice, Black prepares to intervene if necessary, but Jones decides on his own initiative to do as Black wishes, and so Black does not do anything. The example seems, on the surface, to be exactly the same.

But let us look more closely at the moment of choice. At that moment, Jones-as-Agent deliberates on the options and comes to a decision based, in part, on his character as it exists. In the agent’s consideration, there are alternative possibilities, each of which is decided against in favor of the one the agent does in fact choose. As such, the agent assents to be held accountable to the choice it makes, from the very fact that it makes a positive choice against other actions. Zooming out a bit, though, we find that in fact Black stands ready to force the choice upon the agent in some inexorable manner.

If the agent does not become aware that Black is prepared to intervene, then the choice-making process runs as described above, in which the agent makes a positive choice against alternative possibilities and for others. But if the agent is in fact aware of Black’s plan, then the ability to make a positive assent toward a certain choice and against others is removed. The agent must, as it were, simply carry out the action as if scripted. And even if the agent still decides to perform the action Black wishes, that decision is impacted by the fact that its options are limited to that one action. What does the agent assent to? It conceives of itself as only having one option (let us say that Black will intervene in the case that the agent also decides to refrain from acting). The possibility of choice is gone. Whether the agent would have decided on its own to carry out the action Black wished is irrelevant at this point. Its hand is forced, and it cannot assent or refrain, only act in the specific manner proscribed. There can be no moral responsibility here. In short, the example fails if the agent becomes aware of the intervention. One must at least believe there to be other options for moral responsibility to be given.

But we can go even further. It is not clear whether something can compel an immaterial agent in any other way than intellectually, in the manner of some sort of threat. If that is the case, then the agent has no choice but to be aware of the intervention. As a result, given an immaterial agent such as a soul, it seems as if we must inevitably conclude that the Frankfurt-type example fails.

What if we modify the example to include some sort of self-forming action or character-defining decision such as those which Kane proposes? Let us say that Black is far more dedicated than we thought, and that rather than waiting until the moment the act takes place Black arranges that during Jones’s youth he is presented with certain choices that form in Jones a certain character which is more likely to decide in a certain instance in the way Black wishes. Let us assume that Black succeeds in shaping in Jones a certain character which is likely to choose to act in the way Black wants. However, as an added precaution, Black also plans to watch Jones and intervene at the moment of choice if necessary. As it turns out, Jones does in fact act according to Black’s wishes, and so Black does not intervene at that moment.

Is Black still controlling Jones’s decisions? Jones-as-Agent is in fact acting according to his character, but that character has been formed by Black’s machinations. The agent, it appears, is still being controlled. But because he is acting in accordance with his character, is Jones morally responsible? It appears to me that while in the previous example there is no moral responsibility, because there is no possibility of choice with the knowledge of compulsion, in this example Jones is at least partially morally culpable.

While the responsibility is mitigated, because Jones makes the decision on his own, he should be held partially accountable. Despite the fact that Black has formed Jones’s character, the agent still assents to the choice and as such must be held responsible to some degree. If Jones were to find out that Black had formed his character in the past, it would then be up to Jones whether to follow his character, which would mean that he would be following Black’s conditioning, or to act outside of his character. Would acting outside his character in this instance be considered free, because it is not under Black’s control?

Now let us assume that Jones is not only aware of Black’s character-forming actions in the past, but is also aware that Black plans to intervene at the moment of decision, in order to force Jones to act. In this instance, Jones loses moral responsibility as stated above because he cannot assent to the particular choice over other choices. Not only this, though, but Jones is actually not able to assent to following his own character. If he follows his character and acts on his own as Black wishes, he is not fully free; if he does not follow his character Black intervenes and forces the choice. Either way, Jones is not free. In the previous example Jones did not have moral responsibility. In this one, he does not have alternative possibilities.

To conclude, while Frankfurt showed in his example that moral responsibility and alternative possibilities are not logically necessarily connected, it seems as if the example only holds if we do not accept agent causation. The principle of alternative possibilities still holds true in an incompatibilist universe.



Works Cited

Frankfurt, Harry. “Alternate Possibilities and Moral Responsibility.” The Journal of Philosophy, Vol. 66, No. 23. (Dec. 4, 1969), pp. 829-839.

Obligatory Introductory Post

Hello all, and welcome to my little piece of the internet. I've been urged to start up a blog on apologetics, so I thought I would oblige. This blog will incorporate Christian theology, apologetics, philosophy, and good old opinion into what I hope will be a cohesive and engaging whole. It may or may not be updated regularly, so we'll see how that goes.

A little about me for those who don't know: I am, as of this writing, a junior at Rhodes College in Memphis, Tennessee. I am double-majoring in Religious Studies and Philosophy, and I plan on perhaps pursuing a professorship [Alliteration Bonus +10!] someday. My passion is for Christian apologetics, engaging and discussing the important ideas and beliefs of the system and pointing out what I see to be flaws in our thinking.

C.S. Lewis, more than any other (non-biblical) thinker, has influenced me the most, and for those of you familiar with his thought you will assuredly see echoes in my writing. It is my hope and prayer that Christians will find this blog a source of confidence and encouragement, and that non-Christians will find it challenging and engaging.