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Dialectics

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction. Eph 5:17  Proverb 1:7

In studying Western philosophy it is tempting to get caught up in the minutia of the various philosophic theories. I honestly believe that all of the theories that received widespread European or American circulation since the Renaissance have a bearing upon our culture’s worldview. The two great threads of modern Western philosophy are part of the reason for the current “culture” wars. On the one hand, there was and is a call for a worldview that is based upon reason and empirical observation of the materialistic world. On the other hand, there was and is a call to embrace that which is spirit and transcendent and to base one’s knowledge of this world upon emotional resonance. These two extremes of the philosophical movement are dialectics, which of course brings German idealist philosopher George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831) to mind. Hegel was one of the most influential thinkers of the 19th Century and, frankly, I think he was one of the few philosophers who “got it right.”

Brought up in Stuttgart in an atmosphere of Protestant pietism and thoroughly acquainted with Greek and Roman classics while in preparatory school, Hegel attended seminary for a while but didn’t enter the ministry. Strongly influenced by Greek ideas, Hegel also read the works of Spinoza, Rousseau, Kant, Fichte, and Schnelling. Although he often disagreed with these philosophers, their influence is evident in his writings.

 

Hegel had grand aims for explaining the universe through a full account of reality itself. He called this reality the “Absolute” and felt it was the task of philosophy to make clear the internal rational structure of the Absolute, demonstrate the manner in which the Absolute manifests itself in nature and human history, and explicate the teleological nature of the Absolute, thus showing the purpose toward which the Absolute is directed.  He agreed with Parmenides of ancient Greek, “what is rational is real and what is real is rational.” He conceived of the process of coming to know the Absolute as dialectic. Consider there is a thesis – an idea or movement that is not fully developed. (Science calls that a hypothesis. Philosophy calls it a thesis. It’s basically the same.) To answer that incompleteness an opposition, or antithesis, arises as a conflicting idea or movement. To resolve the conflict, a third point of view, a synthesis, attempts to reconcile the conflict by reaching for a higher level of truth that is contained in both the thesis and antithesis. The synthesis becomes a new thesis which generates another antithesis which gives rise to a new synthesis and ….  The Absolute (or the sum total of reality, what we might call the unifying theory of everything) develops through this dialectical fashion toward an ultimate goal.

Hegel understood reality as the Absolute unfolding dialectically in a process of self-development that would manifest itself in nature and human history. Nature is the Absolute objectifying itself in material form. Finite minds and human history are the process of the Absolute manifesting itself as spirit or consciousness.  The Absolute was thought as progressing toward full self-knowledge. Although Hegel gave lip service to Christianity, the God he envisioned was limited by the degree of self-knowledge it possessed.

Hegel made significant contributions in a variety of philosophical fields, particularly history and social ethics. He saw human history as the development of human freedom from restricted to liberty.  At the level of morality, Hegel envisioned right and wrong (duty) as a matter of individual conscience, but individuals are complete only in the midst of social relationships; thus, the only context in which duty can truly exist is a social one. Hegel considered membership in the state one of the individual's highest duties. Ideally, the state is the manifestation of the general will, which is the highest expression of the ethical spirit. Obedience to this general will is the act of a free and rational individual. Hegel emerged as a conservative and, while his philosophy was used to undergird communism, he should not be interpreted as sanctioning totalitarianism, for he also argued that the abridgment of freedom by any actual state is morally unacceptable.

His views were widely taught and his students highly regarded. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his followers soon divided into opposing (dialectical) camps. Right-wing Hegelians offered a conservative interpretation of his work, emphasizing compatibility with Christianity and political orthodoxy. Left-wing Hegelians eventually moved to an atheist position and many became political revolutionaries. Friedrich Engels and Karl Marx were particularly influenced by the idea that history moves dialectically, but they replaced Hegel’s philosophical idealism with materialism.

Hegel’s dialectics actually holds resonance with reality. Consider the history of Western philosophy.  Starting with Anselm – there is a God and the very idea that we can conceive of a deity is proof that there is a deity.  That was a thesis. Then, materialism was presented as an antithesis that didn’t really do away with God, but tended to put Him off in a corner somewhere. A synthesis came about that said that materialism was valid, but it couldn’t touch metaphysical issues. That became a thesis of its own that had an antithesis in wondering if reality was even real. The synthesis following affirmed that reality is real in so far as we correctly interpret what our senses tell us. That thesis spawned an antithesis that we could know reality by trusting our gut over and above our reason. And the cycle continues….

For all of history, at least as far back as Solomon, human beings have been presenting theses and antitheses which over time developed into syntheses. Wise people follow God’s instructions; fools hate it. Somewhere in the middle are probably those of us who want to be wise but have difficulty following instructions. Hegel tapped into that. For that, thinking Christians in the 21st Century should be grateful to him and forgive him for how later people misused his great thinking.

 

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Contradictory Reason

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky proclaims the work of His hands.” Psalm 19:1

Since the 15th century modern philosophy has been marked by a continuing interaction between systems of thought based on a mechanistic, materialistic interpretation of the universe and those founded on a belief in human thought as the only ultimate reality.

Efforts to resolve the dualism of mind and matter, a conflict started by Descartes, continued to engage philosophers during the 17th and 18th centuries while at the same time, the division between science and religious belief also occupied them. The aim was to preserve the essentials of faith in God while also defending the right to think freely. One view called deism saw God as the cause of the great mechanism of the world, a view seen as more harmonious with science than with traditional religion. Natural science at this time was striding ahead, relying on sense perception as well as reason, and thereby discovering the universal laws of nature and physics. Such empirical (observation-based) knowledge appeared to be more certain and valuable than philosophical knowledge based upon reason alone.


After Locke and the empiricists stated their case for logical reasoning processes, philosophers became more skeptical about achieving knowledge that they could be certain was true. Some thinkers who despaired of finding a resolution to dualism embraced skepticism, the doctrine that true knowledge, other than what we experience through the senses, is impossible. Others turned to increasingly radical theories of being and knowledge. Immanuel Kant, 
probably the most influential of these, sett Western philosophy on a new path it follows today. Kant’s view that knowledge of the world is dependent upon certain innate categories or ideas in the human mind is known as idealism.


Voltaire
was the assumed name of François Marie Arouet (1694-1778), a French writer and philosopher, who was one of the leaders of the Enlightenment. Educated by Jesuits, he chose literature as a career, moving in aristocratic circles where he was known for his brilliant and sarcastic wit. His public contempt for the monarchy won him time in the Bastille where his subsequent writing gave eloquent expression of both his anti-Christian views and his rationalistic, deist creed. Although in his earlier works he called for religious toleration, he increasingly attacked French ecclesiastic institutions, bringing him into conflict with powerful church leaders. By 1756, he wrote a study of human progress in which he decried supernaturalism, denounced religion and cursed the power of the clergy, while at the same time declaring his belief in the existence of the deist God. A passionate defender of the persecuted of any belief, Voltaire rejected any form of religion that that constituted fanaticism. He sought to substitute deism, which he considered a purely rational religion, for Christianity, which he considered to be irrational fanaticism. He blamed the world’s woes upon traditional religion.  He did not believe that absolute faith, based upon any particular religious text, tradition or revelation was needed to believe in God. Voltaire envisioned a universe based on reason and a respect for nature.  He wrote, "What is faith? Is it to believe that which is evident? No. It is perfectly evident to my mind that there exists a necessary, eternal, supreme, and intelligent being. This is no matter of faith, but of reason."

Voltaire viewed the Bible as an outdated legal and/or moral text that was by and large metaphorical, but could still teach some good lessons. He further asserted that it was a work of humans, not a divine gift. These beliefs did not hinder his religious practice, however. He built a chapel on his estate in Ferney and regularly attended religious services. He wrote “If God did not exist, He would have to be invented. But all nature cries aloud that he does exist: that there is a supreme intelligence, an immense power, an admirable order, and everything teaches us our own dependence on it.”

All of Voltaire's works contain memorable passages distinguished by elegance, clarity, and wit. Voltaire's contradictions of character, reflected in his writings, were also noted by his contemporaries. Seemingly able to defend either side of any debate, his contemporaries disagreed whether he appeared distrustful, avaricious and sardonic or generous, enthusiastic, and sentimental. He rejected everything he considered irrational and incomprehensible and called upon his contemporaries to act against intolerance, tyranny, and superstition. His morality rested on a belief in freedom of thought and respect for all individuals. His views made him a central figure in the 18th-century philosophical movement and, as he pleaded for a socially involved type of literature, Voltaire is considered a forerunner of such 20th-century writers as Jean-Paul Sartre and other French existentialists.

Although Voltaire hated Rousseau and saw himself as a rationalistic alternative to Rousseau’s romanticism, it must be noted that both were cited by the French revolutionaries as the “fathers” of their movement. In some ways, this seems odd as Voltaire perceived the French merchant class too small and ineffective, the aristocracy to be parasitic and corrupt, the commoners ignorant and superstitious, and the church as a static force useful only as a counterbalance since its "religious tax" (tithe) helped to create a strong backing for revolutionaries.

Voltaire distrusted democracy, which he saw as encouraging the idiocy of the masses. Far from supporting an American-type experiment, Voltaire believed only an enlightened monarch or absolutist, advised by philosophers like himself (what we might call enlightened despotism), could bring about change as it was in the king's rational interest to improve the power and wealth of his subjects and kingdom and was key to progress and change.

His hatred of religious institutions and his faith in an impersonal God who does not dictate morality may be seen as partially encouraging the Reign of Terror’s execution of church leaders and essentially anyone they deemed unreasonable. Unmoored from objective and transcendent morality, the French revolutionaries found no issue within their conscience against what they were doing. They found resonance for this in Voltaire’s writings for even as he derided violence and war, he advocated for the overthrow of authority without regard for a personal and concerned deity that might judge human actions.

Although Voltaire embraced reason to a much greater degree than Rousseau, his conflicted worldview is just as obvious. Rousseau did not truly believe in God, but he believed church institutions could be used to reshape society to a more naturalistic (and, he thought, healthier) ethos. Voltaire believed in a deity, but hated religious institutions.  Yet, oddly, both are sighted as great Enlightenment philosophers and “fathers” of democratic ideas.

Voltaire was a good deal more rational than Rousseau. He recognized that God is visible in the world if we will just admit to His existence. However, whatever his personal issues were, Voltaire felt an intense hatred for the clergy and for all restraining morality that comes from a transcendent source.  His another example of great intellect turned to bent purposes and feeding frightening results.

 

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Worldview is Everything!

"An angry man stirs up conflict, and a hot-tempered man increases rebellion." Proverbs 29:22

Modern day atheists, particularly ones who write scathing books against Christianity and faith in general, love to invoke the Age of Enlightenment as their touchstone. "We are enlightened men," they boast. Some even call themselves "brights" to assure that we know how smart and "enlightened" they are.

One of the most eloquent writers of the Age of Enlightenment, Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778), in reality rejected reason.  He expounded the view that science, art, and social institutions had corrupted humankind and destroyed our natural (or primitive) state which was morally superior to our civilized state. He wielded a powerful influence on the learned people of his day.  Advocating for social contract as a form of government, Rousseau developed a case for civil liberty and helped prepare the ideological background for the French Revolution by defending the popular will against divine right. He expounded a new theory of education emphasizing creative expression rather than "repression" to produce a "well-balanced and freethinking" child. While he was influential with regards to individual freedom and opposition to the absolutism of church and state, his conception of the state as the embodiment of the abstract will of the people and his arguments for strict enforcement of political and religious conformity trouble some historians who see the source of future totalitarian ideology.  His final treatise, which provided a penetrating self-examination and revealed intensely personal and moral struggles introduced a new style of writing embodying extreme emotional expression, intense personal experience, and exploration of conflicts between moral and sensual values.  His insistence on free will, his rejection of the doctrine of original sin, and his defense of learning through experience rather than analysis had profound influence on romanticism in literature and philosophy as well as psychoanalytic theory and even existentialism in the 20th Century.

The 18th Century Enlightenment had passionately defended reason and individual rights while the 19th century romanticism defended intense subjective experience over against rational thought.  Rousseau stood midway between these two ideological camps.  It is in his writing that we can predict the rise of the Reign of Terror.

The Age of Reason had put forth an idea – that man could know the world and trust what he knew.  Counter-philosophers had called those foundational beliefs into question. Could we truly know the world and trust our perception of it? Rousseau and others championed the idea that you could validate your sensory experience by emotional resonance.  When you couldn't completely trust your sensory apparatus or your reasoning, you could trust your gut. Let intuition be your guide.

Having read Rousseau, Hobbes and others, the French revolutionaries had embraced the idea of individual rights as the product of reasoned thinking. They knew their cause was right.  Reason told them that reasonable people could govern themselves without an overlord king.  They started from the purest and most reasoned of motives. Yet, they found themselves surrounded by "unreasonable" people. The king didn't want to share with the commoners. The churchmen didn't want to give up their lands nor have church leaders elected by irreligious people. The merchants didn't want to hand over the fruit of their labors. The commoners wanted their way – bread, land, the right to vote, control of the church, the best of society. What were reasonable men to do but get rid of the unreasonable folk standing in their way?  The guillotine provided the means for this. Their gut had told them that their cause was right and their methods the only sure way to attain victory and now, with the resounding silence of the dead and those who feared to be dead, their gut once more told them that theirs was a right cause and their methods were working.

Some historians allege that Rousseau's idea of human beings being good at their core but corrupted by society may have led to the Reign of Terror. In Rousseau's philosophy, the revolutionaries turned government assassins weren't to blame for their crimes. They had been corrupted by the unreasonable men and women they were killing. They were simply trying to institute reasonable change and any unreasonable person standing in their way must be removed.

When I was in high school, our school did a teacher exchange. One of our government teachers spent a year in England and his counterpart spent a year in our school. I know nothing about the man's personal beliefs one way or another. He was a good teacher. Four days a week he taught the traditional American government curriculum.  On Fridays, he'd change it up a little by going British on us. He taught that America didn't win the American Revolution; Britain lost it. Britain was at war with France and basically the American Revolution was an offshoot of that, caused by French spies stirring up the colonists. Britain didn't devote enough resources to the American theater and thus couldn't quell the uprising, but they returned in War of 1812 to bring us to heel, then discovered we were tougher than they had thought, even without French help. As a political science minor, I came not to really believe what this teacher taught, but he gave me an interesting perspective on American History that I would not have wanted to do without.

At one point, he asked us why the American Revolution hadn't turned out like the French Revolution. We named the Founders as good solid citizens who had perhaps inspired our population to peaceful cohabitation rather than civil war. Partial reason, he said. We named that nobody was really going hungry in the Americas. Okay, partially right, he said.  We struggled and fumed until the son of a local minister raised his hand. "The First Great Awakening?" he said.  BINGO! our British instructor said. (Years later when I subbed at my alma mater, another teacher told me that the British teacher had actually been surprised that any of us had known anything about the First Great Awakening). He quoted Tocqueville and "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God."  The majority of the men and women in the American Revolution were influenced by the Enlightenment thinkers like Hobbes, but that was balanced by the religious thinkers like John Edwards and the Bible that was available for all who wanted to read. The Enlightenment and the Reformation share much in common, not the least of which is that individuals are capable of reasoned conclusions based upon available evidence. Like Enlightenment thinking, Christianity teaches that we can know the truth and the truth can set us free. Unlike the Enlightenment, however, it teaches that we are not good at heart. We are corrupt from the outset and in need of guidance by God and government. Recognizing that, our leaders mistrusted one another and the people and sought to protect us from our own corrupt nature and even from their own corrupt natures. The Bible and the Awakening preachers it inspired also teach that we are to use our heads to discover the depths of God and control our passions. My British instructor suggested, and I have since read other like-minded scholars, that this morality acted as a restraint upon Americans so that they resorted to political rhetoric rather than guillotines to resolve their differences.

Rousseau, whose ideas hadn't been well-circulated in the Americas prior to the American Revolution, believed that human nature had been so corrupted by unreasonable society that it required strict regulation by reasonable government, which should also be in charge of churches so that churches could be restructured to best serve the needs of reasonable society.  His ideas, fully in circulation during the French Revolution, gave the French revolutionaries reason to believe that they were acting for the good of society even as they sharpened the blades on the guillotines.  If individual rights and property and power redistributions were reasonable things to expect from society, then anyone standing in the way of that was unreasonable and simply needed to go. As corruption of the pure natural self was considered hopeless, death was a reasonable solution. It doesn't appear that those in charge ever questioned their own capacity to make that sort of judgment. They were right and reasonable and all others were wrong and unreasonable. The rightness of their cause gave them liberty to remove obstacles to creating a reasonable society.

I am not saying that the Americans were all Christians or even all good people and the French were all horrible and insane. I am saying that ideology in the form of different philosophies plays a powerful role in our thinking. At the time of the American Revolution, the twin influences of the Enlightenment and the First Great Awakening tempered our passions and allowed cooler heads to prevail most of the time. At the time of the French Revolution, the singular Enlightenment  idea that human beings were good at their core and your gut wouldn't lead you wrong if you were truly passionate propelled the destructive impulses of passion and rage into leadership. One forged a government and society that, though flawed, persist to this day. The second collapsed into chaos calmed only by worse tyranny than the king they had sought to be shed.

Though outwardly civilized, the French ideology of the day was to seek the natural (and uncivilized) man within. Christians might have told them that the truly natural man within is usually someone with whom we don't really want a close acquaintance. The French people discovered that the hard way. The Americans discovered it in a much gentler way through the preaching of Great Awakening, and thus, avoided turning our revolutionary zeal upon ourselves after we'd rid ourselves of the British.

Philosophy has enormous power in the minds of people because it speaks to worldview. If our worldview tells us that we are the highest and brightest and good at the core there is a risk that our true natures, which are not good, will overwhelm our civilized manners and allow the monster to reign. Certainly those who claim Christianity's title have allowed the monster of ego to control their actions with horrible results; however, such loss of control has had far greater sway and produced far greater sway among those who professed atheism or secularism as their highest ideal. Starting with the best of intentions and a belief in the goodness of man, the French revolutionaries devolved into mob rule and several thousand murders. Starting with the best of intentions and suspicious of the motives of mere mortals, the American revolutionaries evolved into statesmen and ambassadors.  The underlying ideologies of the two separate revolutions made all the difference in the outcome.

Worldview matters!
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Philosophical Schizophrenia

"The instruction of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul; the • testimony of the Lord is trustworthy, making the inexperienced wise."  Psalm 19:7

Western philosophy has in the last few centuries been two strands of thought that sometimes intermingle.  Modernist philosophy spawned materialistic, rational philosophies. Reason can be used to understand all knowledge and observe the world around us. We can find absolute truths and know what is right and wrong.  Post modernist philosophy arose as a reaction to this structured system of thought. Post modernism asked "How do we know reality is real?"  Both systems spawned later thought systems that are really natural continuations of their parent philosophies.

Something they rarely tell you in school is that the Renaissance (14th-16th centuries) and the Reformation (15th - 16th centuries) overlapped.  The Renaissance is often seen as the precursor to the Enlightenment of the 18th Century, but the Reformation provided the breeding ground for many of the ideas that would guide men like Hobbes to write what they would write.

The Renaissance was a time when human beings were really impressed with their own intelligence. This wasn't a necessarily bad thing. We should be impressed with our intelligence. My daughter's cat was chasing her tail a few minutes ago and watching her actually catch it made me glad I'm a human and able to reason that chasing my tail might end in pain. However, the Renaissance gave us ideas we're still working out. The universe was envisioned as a large machine that worked just because it worked. Science took precedence over spirituality. The aim of human life ceased to be salvation, but satisfaction of natural desires. Individualism and humanism were encouraged. In this environment, the human mind seemed an inexhaustible reality on par with the physical reality of matter.  Individuals were encouraged to seek knowledge for themselves and search for truth with their own reason.

Descartes separated the material world from the mind, which has ever confused philosophers since. Most subsequent philosophical systems since then have debated the difference and the importance of matter and the mind.  Descartes and others believed in the ability to achieve knowledge through reasoning and logical deduction. Hobbes and later John Locke believed that knowledge can be gained from observation and sense perception rather than from reason alone. This eventually spawned a movement known as utilitarianism. That which is useful is considered good and whatever obtains happiness for the greatest number of people is useful. People don't really do good things because they were inspired by someone else or God, but because of enlightened self-interest. "I scratch your back, and you'll scratch mine."  From it came the concept of the social contract and many other good ideas that were embraced by our founding fathers.

Also, from this movement came many great scientific advances. The idea that one could know the world through ones' reason was essential for the great discoveries during and since the Renaissance. That one could also know the world through one's senses and observations opened a world of learning that has provided us with incredible things in terms of thought, technologies and understanding of our world.

The rationalistic, materialistic view of the world left little room for faith unless it was held apart from reason.  Ultimately, such pragmatism also led to the behaviorism of BF Skinner, whose main emphasis was on all behaviors being a function of physiology that can be observed and quantified and adjusted by applying the right sort of stimuli. We'll discuss him later.

It is from this school of thought that we hear arguments for the insanity of religious belief. So wedded to deterministic thought processes, those who subscribe to materialism are often unable to even consider nonmaterial reality as a possibility. Their antecedents would be shocked to know they had drawn these conclusions from their philosophies. Rene Descartes was a devout Catholic who sought to reveal God's universe, not to do away with God. Galilee Galileo, who brought mathematics to the subjects of science, also would not have sought to eliminate God from the universe. John Newton wrote more about faith than he did science, though much of our science is based on his observations. These men thought of themselves as "unlocking the secrets of God," as James Faraday would say several centuries later.

Within the realms of materialism, there had always been disagreement between those who held that we could know the world through pure reason (Descartes, for example), and those who held to empirical observation as a means to know the world. Men like Francis Bacon and Thomas Hobbes believed that we must experience the world in order to understand it. While they valued reason, they didn't think it could stand on its own as a method for understanding the world. They championed empiricism, a method for testing their observations and validating their theories.

While we owe much to the modernistic philosophers who virtually gave us our science, their disagreements spawned a counter-philosophy we call post-modernism. From their dialogue grew skepticism. While earlier philosophers discussed how we could understand reality, David Hume wondered if we could know reality at all.  The 18th-century Scottish philosopher questioned the existence of the mind itself, cast doubt on the idea of cause as understood by all previous philosophies and seriously disputed earlier arguments for the existence of God. He asserted that all metaphysical explanations that could not be directly perceived by the five senses should be "committed to the flames."  He saw no logical justification for believing that any two events which occur together are connected by cause and effect and he didn't believe one could make any inferences about the future based upon the past. Whereas the empiricist doctrine of Bacon taught that experience teaches us what particular things belong together as cause and effects, Hume argued that this attempt to learn from experience is not at all rational. He doubted the reliability of our memories, reasoning processes and our ability to learn from past experience or make any sort of predictions about the future. Hume was not absolutely certain the sun would rise tomorrow.

Immanuel Kant, appreciating Hume's scepticism, but perhaps a bit more rational, made a thorough and systematic analysis of the conditions for knowledge. Using Newtonian physics as his story-pole, he noted that reason seemed to have done an effective job of understanding the world as perceived by the senses. He wondered, however, "How is our experience possible in the first place?" Prior philosophers had taken experience for granted. Kant basically said our knowledge must conform to our mind's essential ways of perceiving and understanding. He believed that reality in and of itself is not truly knowable to us, but only our experience of reality is knowable. Kant proposed that we can only really know the material world. Matters of faith, which transcend human experience, were not (according to Kant) knowable.

Further, Kant held that moral principles are absolute commands of reason that permit no exceptions and are not related to pleasure or practice benefit. Perceiving God to be a moral ideal rather than a deity, Kant postulated freedom of action based upon moral order and equality, championing reason and liberty against tradition and authority. In his religious writings, he stressed individual conscience rather than moral code.

The foregoing philosophers were often considered the fathers of the Age of Enlightenment, but most of us never consider the individual philosophies that were at work within this Age.  On the one hand, philosophers postulated a materialistic and mechanistic worldview that sees everything as just a cog in the universal machine (regardless of whether God created it or not) and, on the other hand, philosophers wondered if reality was even real, but increasingly they were sure that metaphysical reality was not real. From a Christian perspective, it's odd that the one thing post-modern philosophers are sure of is that God does not exist.

Personally, in that schizophrenic intellectual environment, I am not surprised that things went haywire. Although the Age of Enlightenment brought us many wonderful ideas like democracy and empiricist science, it also culminated in the French Revolution with its Reign of Terror. It's worth exploring the cause and effect of that tragic twist of good thought.

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Gratitude

Coming up on Thanksgiving, I always plan for gratitude. I remind my family and my Sunday School teens that they should be grateful to God and their family and friends for all sorts of things.  The teens of my Sunday School class started partial gratitude lists in class. Mostly they were thankful for being able to play soccer and their parents giving them things. One boy said he was thankful that his father stepped up to the plate when he was a baby and raised him after his mother's suicide. Another boy said he was thankful his mother married his step-father, who has been a stabilizing influence in his life since he was two.  My daughter was grateful for the most patient little brother in the world.

I am grateful for a great many material things, but this morning I'm going to go drive the van for the day treatment program of the community mental health center where I work. It's not my usual gig, but we're short-handed and mentally ill people deserve a good Thanksgiving too, so I'm doing my part. My recent series on philosophy has caused me to reflect deeply on the place of reason in my life. I can say unequivocably that I am grateful to be rational.

God gave me intelligence and parents who nurtured that. He gave me a normal brain that is best able to make use of that intelligence. He brought ideas to me that I might use my reason to consider them.  I was not born a Christian. I came to that on my own without parental guidance in my teens. Reason brought me to the point of considering faith because faith is extremely reasonable. There is evidence of God all around us in the world in which we live, if we would just open our eyes to it. Reason caused me to open my eyes and examine the evidence. It caused me to follow the evidence to its logical conclusion.  The evidence does not positively prove the existence of God, but no other conclusion others have drawn from the evidence has satisfied me in the same way that the God conclusion has. Sometimes you just have to have faith and then your reason will be satisfied. It was that way with me.

Accepting Jesus as Savior at 16 meant I took the road less traveled and could not return to take the other road at a later time in the same way, so that I have no way of knowing how my life would have turned out if I had chosen differently, but it doesn't really matter because when I think about the satisfaction I have with life even in the face of difficult times, I am content with what the Lord has given me.  I do not believe I would be so content if I thought I was facing the abyss without God.

A question came up yesterday. What do those who only believe in the material world give thanks for or to? I can't answer that because I believe in a reality that isn't just material; thus I give thanks for the blessings (and sometimes the trials) God gives me and I give thanks for those to Him.  In the act of thanking God, I find suddenly that I am grateful to others for what they have done for me as well.  I have many wonderful Christian friends who have supported me during difficulty times. Some of them teach me things they don't even realize they're teaching. Some of them make me laugh. Some of them grieve my spirit and help me to grow. My family of origin are not Christians and even from their secular standpoint, they sometimes find themselves acting in God's stead.

There is so much to be grateful for and I for one am glad to have Someone toward whom to direct my gratitude. Christians are not facing the abyss alone. God is here with us, as He is here with everyone who is willing to acknowledge Him.

We in America have a great deal for which to be grateful.  We should acknowledge that and recognize that we are not the source of all the good things in our lives.  There is Someone to Whom we owe our thanks.
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Revisiting A Bridge

There’s a bridge in the Alaskan forest that leads to a friend’s remote cabin. Over the last 20 years, my husband and I have hiked the miles in from the highway on several occasions. When we were younger and didn’t have children in tow, we would wade the river. Some years the river is calm and knee-deep; wading is no problem.  Some years we would turn back because of high water. Other years, we’d risk our lives in water that was too fast and too treacherous (though obviously we lived). One year, when we were on the cabin side and needed to get home to work, we sent our Labrador retriever through the suddenly rain-swollen river with a rope tied to her saddlebags. Using hand commands for hunting, I convinced her to walk around a boulder to tie off the rope and allow us to cross clinging to the upstream side. Our friend finally decided to quit risking his friends’ lives by improving access to his cabin.

When we first saw the bridge it didn’t inspire our confidence.  It consists of a cable of multiple ropes bound together for a foot path, two ropes at waist height for hand rails and cross bracing of shorter ropes to keep everything swaying in the same direction. Somehow when he said he’d built a bridge, we’d thought he meant something sturdy and of wood.  We’d brought the kids. One of the major problems with trusting the bridge was that we couldn’t see the attachment on the other side. He’d had to tie off back in the woods because the bank-side trees were unstable.

We eventually crossed the bridge, but before doing so, we examined the attachment we could see, assuring that it was well engineered. We discussed that this particular friend is a craftsman who doesn’t do things halfway. We decided we could trust him. Then, we put our faith in his creation by crossing the bridge.

Reason could only take us so far. We could use our intelligence to decide if the bridge was safer than the rain-swollen river. Our dogs had already jumped in and swam it, but had disappeared around the bend before they gained the other side. The bridge was definitely our best option, especially with our seven-year-old in tow. But reason could only take us so far. At that point where it ran out of steam, we had to gamble on our friend’s skills at bridge-making and trust our fate to three ropes and a tie-off we couldn’t see.

Obviously we survived. And, we returned to the bridge this last summer.  Coming upon it, we briefly glanced at the tie-off on our side of the river to assure it had been well-maintenanced and then we set off across the bridge. Gone was the debate, the angst, the fear. We had faith in the bridge. The uninitiated friend with us was not so certain and he ended up wading the river rather than trusting the bridge. Even after seeing us do it, he was certain we were nuts for trusting the bridge. Watching our Labs rescue him when he lost his footing in the rapids, we weren’t convinced he was the wise one.

This analogy speaks to faith. In faith, we can follow reason so far, but at some point, we must trust what we cannot wholly know.  We must gamble that God is Who He says He is and that He will keep His promises if we do what He asks.  We can’t be wholly certain of the outcome until we’ve placed our faith in Him. At the outset, we have doubts. Maybe this is foolishness, believing in a deity. We’ve seen evidence for Him, but we can’t be absolutely certain of our interpretation of the evidence until we trust Him. We can’t examine all of the evidence until we reach the other side of the bridge. As Blaise Pascal noted, however, unlike the bridge, we have nothing to lose if we believe and are wrong and everything to lose if we choose not to believe and are later proven wrong.  Trusting to faith is a whole lot safer than trusting in woodland bridges.

Yet, once we have placed our trust in God, it is easier the next time to again place our trust in God, because He shows Himself to be reliable whenever we let Him do so.  Faith gets easier with practice and in time, one comes to understand that faith is an easier path than the path of total reason.  God knows the better way.

There are people, like our distrustful friend, who refuse to trust God and even mock those of us who do. Our friend remained convinced that his way was better even after he’d taken a dunking and been allowed to view the other tie-off. He remained agnostic about the bridge and, probably because he doesn’t know the friend who built it, distrustful of the workmanship that went into it.  This reminds me of many atheists – who insist upon believing only in what they can see, feel, hear, taste and touch – at least in regards to God (they will take gambles in other things quite readily). They stand and mock what they do not trust and insist that they have the better way, even as they stand knee deep in rushing ice-cold water and are about to need rescue from their choices.

Faith accepts that there is something beyond the point where reason is no longer useful. It examines by revelation that to which reason cannot give access.  It’s the only way to gain access and understanding into the part of reality that is not quantifiable through reason alone. On the other side of faith, however, we can pick up the reason that had guided us to the point of faith and continue to use it to examine the new and better reality into which we have now entered.

Faith is not an escape from reason. It is an enhancement of it!

 

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The Big Picture

Call us "trans-modernists".  I joke, but only a little.

Christians vote with modernist thinkers and agree that reason is the primary way we know the world and it is through reason that the material world is best revealed to us. This is why Christians often are perplexed when atheists like Richard Dawkins accuse us of throwing reason out the window. We don't see ourselves as doing that in any way. It is reasonable to use our senses and our intelligence to explore God's creation and we do.  How is that an abandonment of reason?

Christians also vote with post-modernist thinkers and agree that there are limits to reason. Because our perceptual apparatus can only know the world that is accessible to our five senses and what we know may be subject to our interpretation, we agree that we can never be completely certain that what we call reality is truly real and all there is. Oddly, we think this was an outgrowth of Enlightenment observations, but the apostle Paul wrote this almost 2000 years ago.

"When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put aside childish things.

"For now we see indistinctly, as in a *mirror, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I will know fully, as I am fully known."  1 Corinthians 13:11-12

*Modern-day people have a hard time understanding this reference to a mirror because we're so used to shiny surfaces, but take a look at your reflection in a spoon sometimes and you'll get a brief glimpse of what Paul meant when he was discussing mirrors.

The post-modernists came to a place in their thinking where reason ran out of steam. Christians understand this point of departure. We also came to the end of what we could accurately perceive with the naked eye. At that point, many post-modernists  said (and still do) that what we could not know didn't matter or else they despaired of knowing and still sat upon the question – Is this all there is? Believing that reason is the only way to know anything, they sank into existentialist angst, assured there is nothing beyond this life and wondering if this life is even worth living. Christians, however, acknowledge there is something just beyond what we know through reason and we seek to discover it through other means. Rather than simply saying "it doesn't matter if I can't perceive it through reason" (as many post-modernists have done), we embrace faith as a means to knowing the invisible realm our limited perceptual apparatus cannot reveal for us.

Reason is like viewing the world with our naked eye. Imagine the beauty and wonder we can take in!  Faith, however, is like donning a perfectly calibrated set of glasses that allow us to see what is invisible to the naked eye. Men like Richard Dawkins don't reject the microscopic world because they can't see it without special apparatus. Why do they then reject faith as a means toward experiencing the metaphysical world?

Christians don't consider faith as an abandonment of our intellectual abilities, but rather an augmentation. We don't leap into faith with our eyes squeezed shut. We've exhausted what our physical sight can tell us of the world and now we're using an available alternative means to see the world beyond the limits of our physical sight.

Let's be honest. Just about everyone can agree that something peeks out beyond the metaphysical veil. It's usually fleeting and unquantifiable and not to be known by reason, but it's there. We've all felt the wonder of looking at a sun-blushed dawn or looking into the unknowing eyes of an infant. There's something there that is beyond reason. Christians acknowledge that and move beyond reason because reason cannot explain what we're investigating, but we don't leave reason behind altogether. We simply recognize its limitations and act upon that knowledge.

Blaise Pascal perhaps embodied best the act of faith. He observed that life is full of choices. We wake up every morning and get out of bed not knowing what the day will bring. We gamble that it will be good, thought sometimes we find out it's bad. Yet we make the choice every morning to get up and face the day.

Christians do the same in the act of faith. Coming upon a place where reason no longer provides all the answers to the world, we find ourselves with a choice – remain wedded to reason and refuse to accept anything else or acknowledge a world beyond the veil of our five senses and explore it. We gamble that betting on the God proposition will give us access to that "other part" of reality.  For most of us, at the outset, we're not wholly convinced that He exists. He's peeked through the metaphysical veil from time to time and we think He might exist, but a characteristic of God's character appears to be His unwillingness to force Himself upon those who would rather not know Him. This makes sense in that He deliberately created Adam and Eve with the capacity to sin and He didn't interfere with their right to choose.  Thus, Christians are those who decide to check out the metaphysical evidence for God.  Perhaps faith will allow us to glimpse the world to which reason will not give us access.

Those who would be interested in knowing God take the gamble that He might exist and in doing so, God reveals more of Himself and His world to us, validating our choice to make the gamble of faith.

It is perplexing to most Christians when atheists claim we have abandoned intelligence to embrace faith. That's not our experience. We saw small amounts of evidence for something beyond the world that reason can show us and we embraced faith to improve our intellectual functioning. Faith guides our cognition, it hones our senses. It allows us to deal with the world as it is, not as we would like it to be.

If you will allow me to mangle a proverb here – reason is like lighting a candle in a dark room. It illumines a circle around us that allows us to see that there might be something beyond the circle of light in which we stand. Faith is like using the candle to light a lantern which reveals the whole room to us. It does not necessarily tell us what is beyond the door, but it certainly makes it easier to see the whole room.
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What Is Real?

E.O. Wilson noted that “outside of our heads there is a freestanding reality” whereas “inside our heads is a reconstitution of reality based on sensory input and self-assembly of concepts.” By linking the two, he hoped to achieve “the Enlightenment dream of objective truth based on scientific understanding.”

Most modern-day atheists rely on Cartesian philosophy with its presupposition that the rational scientific approach gives us full access to external reality. However, philosophers who followed Descartes noted that reason is limited. The objects we observe are things in and of themselves, but we observe them through the filter of our senses. We perceive reality based on what our senses communicate to us. Therefore, reality does not come to us directly, but is filtered through a lens that we ourselves provide.

George Berkeley asserted we have no experience of material objects that exist outside of the perceptual apparatus of our minds and senses. Skeptic David Hume asked “Are we absolutely certain we even exist?”

Post-modern philosophy still has not provided an answer to that question. In the Matrix movies, we see the theme – human beings who are actually constructs of a computer perceive themselves as living lives that are factually complete delusion. The rebels believe they have broken free to live in the real world, but could that not also be a construct of the computer? We simply do not, and cannot, know and the series ends as up in the air on that question as it was in the first movie. Art imitates life, because the world as we know it is truly a construct of our minds and not reality itself.

Immanuel Kant understood the consequence of this dilemma.  He asserted that it is irrational to presume that our experience of reality corresponds with reality itself. Human knowledge is limited by the vastness of the knowledge available to us, but also by the limited sensory apparatus we bring to that reality.  I can enjoy the company of a cat, but I cannot actually know what it is like to be a cat. Therefore, I do not have access to some part of reality and cannot know reality with complete certitude, which is the rigor demanded by Cartesian philosophy, the basis of modern thought.

We can apprehend reality only through our five senses; there is no other way for us to perceive it in a rationalistic manner. Because we are limited to our perception of reality, we cannot know for certain that what we perceive is accurate. This is not the same thing as being delusional. Kant rejected the argument that our senses are unreliable. We perceive well enough. We simply have no basis to assume that our perceptions ever resemble reality as it really is. This is because what we call reality is really only a copy of reality constructed by our perceptions.

It’s a heady concept, made headier because Kant was not diminishing the importance of perception and human experience. A recognized science and mathematician, Kant did not degrade the value of science which is largely based upon observation. He simply drew the conclusion that we cannot wholly know reality and we should be aware of that.

Human reason can only operate in the reality we perceive. Being a copy of true reality reconstructed by our reason, reality can be distorted by our perceptions.

One wants to resist Kant’s philosophy. Reality is objective, we insist. Yet, Kant made a salient argument. Reality is our subjective perception of objective reality.  That it flies in the face of our common sense makes it no less true. Common sense said the sun revolved around the earth and that the earth was flat. Scientific discoveries have shown common sense to sometimes be incorrect. In fact, most of the great discoveries from Copernicus to Heisenberg have been huge violations of common sense that often labeled the scientific geniuses positing these theories as crackpots, at least initially.  As the Theory of Relativity shows, reality is sometimes very strange and common sense does not always give us an unfailingly accurate picture of the world. Noting that, Bertrand Russell wrote “Common sense is the metaphysics of savages.”

Empiricists like Richard Dawkins and Daniel Dennett assume without any evidence or proof that their experiences somehow give them magical access to reality, never considering this an unwarranted leap toward the embracement of illusion.

Don’t we all perceive the same reality? Don’t we all see the same objects in a given room, for example? Obviously, these things must exist then! Ah, but don’t we all have the same sensory apparatus that is designed in the same way? Maybe we all perceive reality the same way because we are all afflicted by the same flaws of perception.  Kant’s conclusion was that there are permanent and inescapable limits to human reason and it is foolish to pretend otherwise.

It should be noted that this concept was not completely new to Kant, but had been posited by Plato. It should also be noted that it is a concept that is not at odds with the world religions. Hinduism, Islam, Judaism and Christianity all share a doctrine that this world is not the only one there is. We live in an illusory, transient world dependent upon a higher, timeless reality that will one day supercede the temporary one we live in.

Sociologist Peter Berger noted “the religious impulse, the quest for meaning that transcends the restricted space of empirical research in this world has been a perennial feature of mankind.”

Some would deem this “a God-shaped hole. Almost all societies across the planet seek to understand something more than just the bricks and trees of reality. We all seek somewhat that is just outside the realm of perceived reality.

Kant’s recognition that there are two types of reality – one objective and the other subjective, while confirming core elements of religions, were entirely secular. He arrived at them by reason alone, employing no religious vocabulary or any reliance on faith. Kant did, however, acknowledge that by recognizing the limits of reason he had provided room for faith.

 

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Philosophies

René Descartes (1596-1650), French philosopher, scientist, and mathematician, sometimes called the father of modern philosophy. Descartes attempted to apply the rational inductive methods of science, and particularly of mathematics, to philosophy. Before his time, philosophy had been dominated by the method of Scholasticism, which was entirely based on comparing and contrasting the views of recognized authorities. Rejecting this method, Descartes stated, "In our search for the direct road to truth, we should busy ourselves with no object about which we cannot attain a certitude equal to that of the demonstration of arithmetic and geometry." He therefore determined to hold nothing true until he had established grounds for believing it true. This hard-edged rationality was often at cross-purposes with his Roman Catholic faith, for as he demanded certainty in material observations of the world, he did not always prove his philosophical stances to the same degree. His base assumption was "I think, therefore I am."  In other words, because man can rationally observe reality, we must be real.  That was something of a leap considering that his central philosophic statement was that nothing can be held as true unless it can meet the same standard of certain as mathematics.  His motto might have been "Show me the proof." It seems he required less proof of his own existence and that of God than he did for other thoughts and material objects.

Religion remained a strong influence throughout Descartes' lifetime.  Even as he called for a technological system in which man becomes the master of nature, he made his case in terms of rediscovering the bounty of the Garden of Eden.  While his scientific theories were often in error, he contributed much to science by calling for observation of nature to determine effects and trace causes. His was an initial break from the Scholaticism of earlier generations that had primarily postulated ill-defined and unsupportable ideas about how the world worked.  Because he truly wanted to know how the world works, Descartes worked toward establishing methods to determine that.

He inspired many Enlightenment thinkers with the idea that we can seek and know truth, however, his emphasis on absolute proof would become a major issue for later thinkers.

To Descartes, the power of human reason and its ability to observe and understand the world was completely unlimited. Oddly enough, this stance of a devoutly religious man is also the stance taken by modern-day atheists who essentially say "We are the smartest and most rational beings on the planet; therefore, we understand reality best."  While Descartes sought to use reason to discover God, modern-day atheists believe reason disproves God. Interesting to consider the dichotomy of these two philosophies.

I intend to consider the impact and conclusions of modern philosophies in the next few posts.
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Determining Truth

Over the course of this blog there have been several discussions concerning the formation of the Biblical canon(s).  One reader insisted the books of the Bible were assembled by the Roman Catholic Church. Another reader contended that the Catholic Church – meaning both the Roman and Orthodox branches of ancient Christianity – were responsible for the canon.  I answered them hit and miss at the time, but it seems like archeology and history can tell us a great deal, so I thought to make a comprehensive statement. I owe my answers, in part, to my friends Alan and Paul who are professional Biblical scholars and to recognized authoritative study aids as needed.

The Biblical canon defines the authoritative and normative teachings for the Church, thus it is vitally important to understand how the canon was determined and by whom. Most people envision a council of churchmen sitting around a table pouring over the books and deciding which were in and which were out. I think everyone who doesn't know otherwise envisions something like that and Dan Brown certainly popularized the idea in The Da Vinci Code. He told the whole world that Constantine and the electors to the Council of Nicea looked over all the available texts, including the so-called Gnostic Gospels, and decided what would be in and what would be out of the Bible.

Dan Brown is a mediocre writer and a terrible historian.  The Biblical canon was not discussed or voted on at the Council of Nicea (AD 325).  A working canon had already been in use for centuries before the meeting at Nicea, though official lists of recognized canonical books were produced by the regional councils of Laodicea (AD 363), Hippo (393) and Carthage (397). In a very real sense, these councils merely certified a canon that had been developed centuries before.

Christian communities in the 1st Century gathered for worship which included readings from the Old Testament (the canon of which was set by the Jews centuries before) and those text recognized as authoritative, usually because they had been written by an apostle or close associate of Jesus. Peter, writing his second letter, hinted at a familiarity with multiple letters of Paul and even elevated them to equality with the Hebrew scriptures (2 Peter 3:36).

Around AD 180, the heretic Marcion attempted to exclude acceptance of any other text than what was standard among Christians of that day. His list of canonical books included the Gospels, Acts and  most of Paul's writings, but excluded most of the general epistles. However, the early Church fathers widely quoted from books they considered authoritative. They were not always in complete agreement, but there is enough agreement to suggest that the basic canon as we know it had been set by around AD 160.

In the councils that considered the official canon (these were primarily established not because the Church lacked a canon, but to make the canon official, and thus, protected from heretics who might try to add to it), some basic considerations were made for determining canonicity.

* Writing in the canon had to reflect orthodox teaching. Text that were determined to contain teachings that didn't line up with that of the earliest Christians were not to be included.

* The canon sought to include the earliest, most accurate accounts about Jesus and the early Church by selecting texts that had been written either by the apostles themselves or by those who were closely associated with them. Texts claiming apostolic authority were critically inspected. If authorship claims were suspect, the texts were rejected. The Gospels of Mark and Luke receive canonical status because they were written by a companion of Peter and a coworker of Paul, for example. The Book of Acts, also written by Luke, was also accepted as canonical. The other two Gospels, the Epistles and the book of Revelation all have clear apostolic connection.

* Texts that were popular in only one region were viewed as doubtful, while those that had found widespread acceptance both in the east and in Rome, were included in the canon. The writings chosen for the canon were understood to have universal application. For instance, although Paul addressed his letters to specific communities, others quickly acknowledged that his teaching was relevant to them as well.

Other Christian writings circulated alongside the canonical texts. Among these, the Shepherd of Hermas and the Epistle of Barnabas were held in high esteem by some Christians, but were eventually rejected from the canon because of their distance from the apostles and the apostolic age. The Epistle of Barnabas was written too late to actually have been written by Barnabas, for example. Although these texts were not canonized for reading in the public assembly of the churches, they were not condemned as heretical. Texts of this sort continued to be used by Christians for personal devotions and reflection, but without the same authority as the canonical writings.

Still later writings were summarily condemned by the early Church, as evidenced by the writings of the early Church fathers. They recognized that the "gospel" taught by certain groups was not the same gospel as that taught by the apostles.  This was particularly true of the gnostic writings. The Gnostics claimed to provide secret knowledge about God and its adherents considered the Biblical God, the creator of the world, to be an inferior deity. Gnostics taught the material world was innately evil and that the creator of this world must also be evil. The Gnostic Savior, rather than providing forgiveness of sin, brought the knowledge of humanity's "true" divine origins, freeing people from their ignorance and enslavement to the material world and the god of the material world (the God of the Bible).  Some Gnostics cited a belief in "the Christ" as a sort of spiritual presence that came upon the very human Jesus at his baptism and departed before his crucifixion. One branch of Gnosticism, the Docetists, believed that Jesus was actually a divine spirit who only appeared to be physical. His body, they argued, was not truly flesh, but was only an illusion.  This is refuted by John 4:2 "Every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God." It is possible that those John countered were forerunners of those who wrote the later Gnostic texts.  John's warnings indicate that heresy can come in many forms, sometimes even in the guise of apostolic teaching. Those who deny the humanity of Jesus are equally as heretical as those who deny the deity.

In addition to purely heretical texts from the Christian era, the Church also dealt with the pseudepigraphical literature.  Meaning "false title", these were Jewish books that falsely claimed to have been written by Moses, Enoch, Abraham or some other ancient hero of the faith. The Jews of Jesus' day rejected those they knew as non-canonical and some actually date to the Christian era.  Most were written between AD 250 and 200. These included: The Testaments of the 12 Patriarchs; Testament of Solomon; Testament of Moses; Psalms of Solomon; Jubilee; and First Enoch.  As a rule, the New Testament authors avoided this material, with the exception of Jude, who cited The Assumption of Moses and I Enoch 1:9.  It is possible that the pseudepigrapha have preserved some genuine traditions and that Jude was able to discern the true from the false. However, given the nature of these books, scholars have viewed them as unreliable as sources of Biblical truth. Also, it should be noted that quotation by a Biblical writer of any ancient text does not automatically imply endorsement. Paul, for example, cited pagan poets (Acts 17:28; 1 Corinthians 15:33; Titus 1:12).  Jude's reference to 1 Enoch does not imply he thought the book was canonical.

Catholics include in their version of the Bible writings Jewish writings that were included in the Septuagint, an early Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures.  Used by Hellenistic Jews and the early churches (who were mostly Greek speakers), most scholars believe the Septuagint was produced by Jewish scholars in the city of Alexandria around the 3rd Century BC, though it may have taken a couple of centuries to complete. The original Hebrew text seems to have varied somewhat from the Masoretic text, which was the standard for Hebraic Jews in Jesus' day. Because the early Church was populated with many Greek speakers, most of the Old Testament quotes in the New Testament are from the Septuagint. Most modern-day translations of the Old Testament are from the Masoretic text, which accounts for variants in comparing quotes from the Old Testament with what is written in the New Testament. In the overwhelming majority of the cases, the variant reading does not affect the meaning of the text and should not be a cause for concern for anyone.

The concerns lies not with the New Testament quotation of Old Testament verses, but with the use of the Apocrypha: Tobit; Judith; Ecclesiasticus (Sirach); Wisdom of Solomon; Baruch; 1 and 2 Maccabees; 1 & 2 Esdras; Epistle of Jeremiah; Prayer of Manasseh; and additions to Esther and Daniel. As the early Church developed, Gentile believers needed to be taught "sound doctrine" (Titus 2:1). Although the apostolic writers exclusively used the Old Testament as the canonical Bible, Gentiles were also encountering many other Jewish religious texts. Many Gentile believers undoubtedly embraced these books as authoritative. Debate about their role within the churches has raged ever since. Early copies of the Septuagint included the books we now call the Apocrypha and they were widely read and came to be regarded by some early Christians (Augustine, for example) as canonical. Christian scholars, however, were aware of the discrepancies between the Greek and Hebrew Bibles. When Jerome published his Latin translation of the Bible (the Vulgate), he worked directly from the Hebrew Bible and carefully distinguished between what he considered canonical writings and the grouping of writings that he first designated as "the Apocrypha". Martin Luther in the 16th Century opposed certain Apocrypha passages (such as 2 Maccabbees 12:45, which the RCC had used to support the dogma of purgatory and the selling of indulgences), so in his 1534 German translation of the Bible, Luther printed the books of the Apocrypha in a separate appendix rather than interspersing them among the canonical books. The RCC Council of Trent in 1546 rejected Luther's destinction by decreeing the books of the Apocrypha are "Deuterocanonical" (or the second canon). These essentially have the same weight in the RCC as canonical books.

They were not viewed that way by the Jews of Jesus' day, however. They were not permitted to be read in synagogue, for example. Jews were permitted to read them, as well as other extra-canonical writings, but a clear line was drawn between that which was Scripture and that which was "less than" Scripture. A rule of thumb among Bible-believing Christians is that Jesus is our guide to what we believe. As a good Jew, He would not have considered the Apocrypha to be Scripture. Therefore, we cannot accept the Apocrypha as Scripture. Like anything else, it might make interesting reading, but it isn't truth as defined by Jesus.

Ultimately, the canon was and is a standard for writings that define the Christian Church. The Church had a genesis – in Jerusalem in about AD30-33 (depending on whose calendar you use). The Church had progenitors – men and women who are our founding members. What Peter, James, John, Paul, Barnabas believed and taught are of utmost importance to what we should believe. The earliest Christians understood this. Writing in the late 1st Century and early 2nd Century, the early Church fathers stated which Christian writings they hold to be Scripture – the gospels we know today, the epistles of Paul, Revelation, the epistle of James, the first two epistles of John, the first epistle of Peter. In time, within the lifetimes of the successors of the apostles (Timothy, for example), wide-spread acceptance came to 3 John, Hebrews, and 2 Peter. Very early Christians recognized the Old Testament and 27 books we today call the New Testament as Scripture. The canon evolved as the Church evolved, based upon the practical application of Holy Spirit discernment. This is "truth" the early Christians said. This "other" is not.

Today it is fashionable to assume that a committee selected the 27 books from a much larger body of available texts and said "we like these, let's make them our official set of beliefs", but that's not what happened.  The councils merely agreed with the long-standing usage of these books.  While it's tempting to include extra-Biblical writing for one reason or another, we must always be circumspect with regard to what we except as communication from God. If we truly say we love God and want to obey Him, then it is vitally important that we know what He has said to us so that we are correct in our obedience.  What the early Church though was Scripture is what we should consider to be Scripture if we say we are their successors. All else is merely interesting fiction, fun to read, but not to be taken too seriously.
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The Fool and the Philosopher

I started blogging with a commitment to present the word of God as found in Scripture. As such, my primary focus has always been that. The thoughts of mere human beings, how ever bright, are interesting to me, but only as the relate to the Bible.  Though I might sometimes rely on contemporary authors and the topics they present, I want always to be careful not to wander far from Scripture.  This is because I believe that philosophy has limits in understanding the nature of God. He has spoken and what He was spoken has been written down. We have only to seek out what He has written in order to learn the thoughts of God. Therefore, while I might learn a great deal from the philosophies of Augustine, Aquinas, or Anselm, I must always weigh their human wrought philosophies against the God-given theology of the Bible. Sometimes, the two coincide and for that, I am grateful.

"The fool says in his heart, "God does not exist." They are corrupt; their actions are revolting. There is no one who does good. (Psalm 14:1, Psalm 53:1)

"In all his scheming, the wicked arrogantly thinks: (according to the height of his nose)  "There is no accountability, since God does not exist."  His ways are always secure;Your lofty judgments are beyond his sight; he scoffs at all his adversaries" (Psalm 10:4)


Wow, but does that describe the current crop of atheist and antitheist writers?!  Haughty and self-assured of their own intelligence, they cry loud and long that "there is no God" and anyone who believes otherwise is stupid and illogical. They decry the lack of "reason" in people of faith and beg for a return of thought to public discourse.  It should surprise no one that theirs is not a new argument. Philosophers have answered them down through the past two millennia. King David obviously had encountered them more than 3000 years ago. Some of the men whom we consider the greatest philosophers would have considered Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens and Sam Harris to be "fools".  And, if the fathers of Western philosophy – those who taught us what logic is -- saw the folly of the arguments of 21st Century atheists, should we not be asking ourselves if perhaps those arguments are as fallacious now as they were then.

Saint Anselm of Canterbury (1033-1109) was the outstanding Christian philosopher and theologian of the 11th century. He is best known for the celebrated "ontological argument" for the existence of God in chapter two of the Proslogion, but his contributions to philosophical theology (and indeed to philosophy generally) go well beyond the ontological argument (which was actually not-very-helpful title given it by Kant, writing much later and rejecting the argument). In his writings, Anselm relied on theistic proofs, his conception of the divine nature, and his account of human freedom, sin, and redemption.

Anselm, history records, was born near Aosta (northern Italy) in 1033. Denied access to a religiously-based education by his father, he set about wandering until he came to Normandy in 1059 and studied under Lanfranc, the prior at the Benedictine abbey at Bec. He became the abbot in 1078 and it was under his direction that Bec gained a wide reputation as an intellectual center. In 1093, Anselm became the Archbishop of Canterbury – a position fraught with struggles with the English monarchy.  During all of his administrative career, he kept up a career of writing about theological/philosophical matters.

It should be noted that all philosophers of that day were men of the church.

Anselm's motto is "faith seeking understanding". This motto has been misunderstood in two ways by later philosophers. First, many have taken it to mean that Anselm hoped to replace faith with understanding. If one takes ‘faith' to mean roughly ‘belief on the basis of testimony' and ‘understanding' to mean ‘belief on the basis of philosophical insight', it is easy to regard faith as an epistemically substandard position.  If faith as seen as an absent of reason and understanding as achievement of reason, any self-respecting philosopher would surely want to leave faith behind as quickly as possible. Philosophers who misunderstand Anselm's definitions of faith and understanding, then interpret the theistic proofs as the means by which we come to have philosophical insight into things we previously believed solely on testimony. However, there's nothing in Anselm's writings to support that interpretation. Anselm was not hoping to replace faith with understanding. Faith for Anselm was more a volitional state than an epistemic state: it is love for God and a drive to act as God wills. In fact, Anselm described the sort of faith that "merely believes what it ought to believe" as "dead". So Anselm's "faith seeking understanding" meant something like "an active love of God seeking a deeper knowledge of God."

Other philosophers have noted that "faith seeking understanding" begins with "faith," not with doubt or suspension of belief.  Hence, they argue, the theistic arguments proposed by faith seeking understanding are not really meant to convince unbelievers; they are intended solely for the edification of those who already believe.  This misreads Anselm's motto in the extreme. For although the theistic proofs are borne of an active love of God seeking a deeper knowledge of the beloved, the proofs themselves were intended to be convincing even to unbelievers. Anselm opened the Monologion with these words:

    If anyone does not know, either because he has not heard or because he does not believe, that there is one nature, supreme among all existing things, who alone is self-sufficient in his eternal happiness, who through his omnipotent goodness grants and brings it about that all other things exist or have any sort of well-being, and a great many other things that we must believe about God or his creation, I think he could at least convince himself of most of these things by reason alone, if he is even moderately intelligent.

And in the Proslogion Anselm sets out to convince "the fool," that is, the person who "has said in his heart, ‘There is no God' " (Psalm 14:1; 53:1).

Having clarified what Anselm thought he was doing in his theistic proofs, we can now examine the proofs themselves. In the first chapter of the Monologion Anselm argued that there must be some one thing that is supremely good, through which all good things have their goodness. Now we speak of things as being good in different degrees. So by the principle just stated, these things must be good through some one thing. Clearly that thing is itself a great good, since it is the source of the goodness of all other things. Moreover, that thing is good through itself; after all, if all good things are good through that thing, it follows trivially that one thing, being good, is good through itself. Things that are good through another cannot be equal to or greater than the good thing that is good through itself, and so that which is good through itself is supremely good. Anselm concluded, "Now that which is supremely good is also supremely great. There is, therefore, some one thing that is supremely good and supremely great—in other words, supreme among all existing things". In chapter 2 he applies the principle of chapter 1 in order to derive (again) the conclusion that there is something supremely great.

In chapter 3 Anselm picked apart the logic of one supreme being, arguing that while we can conceive of multiple supreme beings, the argument always leads back to one supreme being

In chapter 4 Anselm began with the premise that things "are not all of equal dignity; rather, some of them are on different and unequal levels". For example, a horse is better than wood, and a human being is more excellent than a horse. Now it is absurd to think that there is no limit to how high these levels can go, "so that there is no level so high that an even higher level cannot be found". The only question is how many beings occupy that highest level of all. Is there just one, or are there more than one? Suppose there are more than one. By hypothesis, they must all be equals. If they are equals, they are equals through the same thing. That thing is either identical with them or distinct from them. If it is identical with them, then they are not in fact many, but one, since they are all identical with some one thing. On the other hand, if that thing is distinct from them, then they do not occupy the highest level after all. Instead, that thing is greater than they are. Either way, there can be only one being occupying the highest level of all.

Anselm concludes the first four chapters by summarizing his results:

    Therefore, there is a certain nature or substance or essence who through himself is good and great and through himself is what he is; through whom exists whatever truly is good or great or anything at all; and who is the supreme good, the supreme great thing, the supreme being or subsistent, that is, supreme among all existing things.

He then spent the next 60 chapters examining the attributes that must belong to the being who fits this description. But before we look at Anselm's understanding of the divine attributes, we should turn to the famous proof in the Proslogion.

Looking back on the 65 chapters of complicated argument in the Monologion, Anselm found himself wishing for a simpler way to establish all the conclusions he wanted to prove. As he tells us in the preface to the Proslogion, he wanted to find a single argument that needed nothing but itself alone for proof, that would by itself be enough to show that God really exists; that he is the supreme good, who depends on nothing else, but on whom all things depend for their being and for their well-being; and whatever we believe about the divine nature.

That "single argument" is the one that appears in chapter 2 of the Proslogion. Anselm's argument goes like this. God is "that than which nothing greater can be thought"; in other words, he is a being so great, so full of metaphysical awe, that one cannot conceive of a being who would be greater than God. The Psalmist, however, tells us that "The fool has said in his heart, ‘There is no God' " (Psalm 14:1; 53:1). Is it possible to convince the fool that he is wrong?

Anselm thought it was. All we need is the characterization of God as "that than which nothing greater can be thought." The fool does at least understand that definition. We know he understands it because he rejects it.  There is no supreme being, according to the fool. Ah, but he can conceive of a supreme being, because he must conceive of it in order to reject it.  Anselm used an example from another sphere -- art.  My daughter is an artist. Before she draws, she conceives of what she wants to draw in her mind.  Until she actually puts it down on paper, the idea exists only in her mind. It might be a great idea, but it is merely an idea. When she draws it, it becomes reality.  The reality of the drawing is greater than the idea of the drawing.  Therefore, in Anselm's argument, God cannot exist merely in the understanding.  He must exist in reality if He is to be the supreme being.

Versions of this argument have been defended and criticized by a succession of philosophers from Anselm's time through the present day . I'm not going to review those arguments because frankly Anselm's argument is hard enough to wrap my mind around. It should be noted that Anselm offered a reply to a monk named Gaunilo who, in Anselm's own day, mounted a pretty good refutation of Anselm's original premise. Gaunilo basically said that it was illogical to assume that you cannot always think of something greater than what you just thought of. He used the idea of an island. Anselm rejected his argument, basically saying Gaunilo hadn't understood the premise.

   1. That than which nothing greater can be thought can be thought.
   2. If that than which nothing greater can be thought can be thought, it exists in reality.

Therefore,

   3. That than which nothing greater can be thought exists in reality.

I tend to agree. Arguments that I have heard to the contrary always start out with the premise that Anselm was trying to reject faith or that he was preaching to the choir. Anselm was doing neither. He sought a more passionate love of God through greater understanding of God and, since he was answering the fool in Psalms, he was also seeking to reach out to the fools of his own generation who said "there is no God."

We face the same fools today.  They are certain of their own intelligence and certain that they do not need a supreme being. Since they are the highest form of intelligence upon the planet (some would like to be called Brights) they are not about to be subordinate to a supreme being.

Yet, they struggle to answer Anselm's original premise. They can conceive of a supreme being. They must if they are to reject Him. So, if they can conceive of it in their minds, in order for it to logically be supreme, it must also exist in reality. In rejecting Anselm's premise, they resort to illogical arguments because that which exists is always greater than that which is merely thought. By the very act of conceiving of a supreme being in order to reject its existence, the atheists of our day are offering proof of God's existence. The Bible actually foresaw this quite some time ago.

"Now faith is the reality [or assurance] of what is hoped for, the proof [or conviction] of what is not seen. For by it our ancestors were approved. By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word [or voice, utterance] of God, so that what is seen has been made from things that are not visible."  (Hebrews 13:1-3)
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Reviewing the Facts

Reviewing the points of Strobel’s book has not brought me to an end of the questions that it caused me to entertain, but I figure I’ll close one chapter before I open the next.

Because we live in a post-modern world where people truly want to believe that truth is relative, the points of “The Case for the Real Jesus” sometimes are easy to ignore. After all, isn’t it the primary goal of all Christian scholars to prove the existence of Jesus Christ?

I would say that it is also the primary goal of all atheist scholars to prove the non-existence of God. How are they anymore reliable in their conclusions than Christian scholars?

I submit they aren’t.  I submit that we can look at the facts and let the facts speak for themselves. Conclusions are much less subjective that way.

Scholars have found a radically different Jesus in recently discovered ancient documents. However, as the documents in question date from a century and a half after Jesus’ death, they are not as credible in their portrayal of Jesus as the New Testament documents, which were written within 30-70 years of his death – within the lifetimes of eye witnesses to the events documented.  The Gospel of Thomas, though a darling of Gnostic scholars, was written after AD 175 and sheds no significant new light on the historical Jesus. The Secret Gospel of Mark turned out to be a 20th Century hoax that embarrassed the scholars who hailed its authenticity. The Jesus Papers are not taken seriously by any historians. All the so-called Gnostic gospels lack connection with the historical Jesus, having been written too late and by those not in a position to know the historical Jesus or anyone who knew Him.

We have so many copies of the New Testament dating back to AD 100 in a few cases and those manuscripts reveal textual variants affecting the meaning of the text account for only 1 percent of variants, none having to do with central doctrines of Christianity.

Using historical methods, the resurrection of Jesus still best accounts for the belief in His resurrection.  The majority of Biblical scholars both liberal and conservative accept as true that Jesus died by crucifixion, that His disciples believed he rose from the dead and appeared to them, and that His tomb was indeed empty or the authorities of the day would have produced the body.  Other theories simply do not account for all the details.

Christian beliefs are not derived from pagan religions. In fact, some pagan mystery religions might have borrowed ideas from Christianity. Most of the key doctrines of Christianity were established well before similar myths appeared in contemporary mystery religions.  Careful scholars discredited this theory decades ago.

A compelling case can be made that Jesus – and Jesus alone – matches the Messianic prophesies. Only Jesus managed to fulfill the prophesies that needed to happen before the destruction of the Jewish temple in AD 70. Consequently, if Jesus isn’t the predicted Messiah of Judaism, there will never be one.  He has not fulfilled all the prophesies yet, but because He fulfilled the ones that needed to be fulfilled by AD 70, it is reasonable to consider that He can fulfill the final ones at the appropriate time.

Obviously we have the freedom to believe whatever we want. Just because the US Constitution gives equal protection for all religions doesn’t mean that all beliefs are equally true. Whatever we believe about Jesus does not change the reality of Who He is.  So why bother to cobble together a make-believe Jesus of our own design when we can experience the real Jesus of history and faith?

Strobel’s book provided me with facts to go with my convictions, but my mind had already been made up over 30 years of God revealing Himself to me through Jesus Christ. I already knew that historical fact provides a strong foundation for the faith claims of Christianity.  Yet, if the case for Jesus is so convincing, why do so many critics rely on flimsy evidence and feeble arguments in order to build a much weaker case for a fabricated Jesus? Why do they ignore or denigrate the first-century, eyewitness-based Gospels of the New Testament and instead manufacture a different Jesus from second-century (or later) documents that lack historical credibility?

Ultimately, I agree with Strobel – most critics are uncomfortable (feeble word!) with a transcendent and all-powerful Deity, so they try to bring Jesus (the human face of God) down to their level.  Some do this by reducing Jesus, rejecting His uniqueness, miracles and obvious divinity, transforming Him into a prophet and wise teacher, rather than the Son of God.  Others elevate themselves.  It’s okay with them if Jesus is God, so long as they can be gods too.  The result of both activities is that Jesus becomes our equal and therefore doesn’t deserve our allegiance or our worship. He cannot judge us or hold us accountable. The 10 Commandments become the 10 Suggestions.  Jesus isn’t our Savior; he’s our friendly guide.

In Mere Christianity C.S. Lewis wrote:

The Christian way is different: harder and easier. Christ says ‘Give me All. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want You. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half-measures are any good…. Hand over the whole natural self, all the desired which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked – the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours.

Surrender of that kind is terrifying to many people! I know people who simply could not imagine letting go of their will to that extent. Yet, if Jesus really is God – if He really sacrificed Himself so that we could be forgiven and set free to experience His love for eternity – why would we hesitate to give every bit of ourselves to Him?

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The Truth is Out There!

As I found with the chapter on Judaism, this chapter was chockfull of discussion points and I eventually decided only to touch upon a couple of the issues discussed.  I think I may touch on these other issues at a later date and at my leisure.

The United States has probably never had more people claiming to be Christians in its population and yet, so many who claim this title have no idea what they are proclaiming.  We live in an age of do-it-yourself spirituality, where people believe that you can mix and match religions to take what you like and create a god of your own making. You can even be your own god if you want to be. Truth is relative and theological terms are subject to reinterpretation. It’s a post-modern worldview and it’s all around us.

Modernism is best defined by the philosophy of Descartes of “I think, therefore I am” fame.  Descartes wanted to be certain of everything.  Modernist thinkers insisted on 100 percent certainty in all spheres of knowledge. Of course, this was not possible. There are many things we can know in part, but we cannot have 100 percent certainty on.  If you asked a modernist “What is truth?” as Pilate famously asked 2000 years ago, the modernist would go out to try and find the answer – and possibly never return.

Post-modernism was a reaction to the modernist viewpoint. Basically, it says we can’t know anything for certain, all things are relative, and truth claims are oppressive.

Strobel interviewed Paul Copan, PhD., chair of philosophy and ethics at Palm Beach Atlantic University. He has impressive academic credentials and has edited books with contributions from conservative and liberal scholars. Strobel posed Pilates famous question to Copan and he explained post –modernism as a suspicion of metanarratives – a ‘world story’ that’s taken to be true for all people in all cultures and which ends up oppressing people.

Suspicious of sweeping truth claims, postmodern thinkers believe no fact is true in all times and all places. Objective relativism says that my beliefs might be “true” for me, but not for anyone else. My opinion can completely conflict with someone else’s opinion and still be considered valid. Yeah, and people find it hard to understand the Trinity?

Religious relativism says a religion can be true for me or for my culture, but not for someone else or their culture. No religion provides a “big picture” for everyone.  Jesus is, of course, a flexible concept.

Moral relativism says more values are genuine for some, but not for others. Cheating spouses of the world, please note, your spouse may not agree that adultery is okay for you, but not for them.

Historical relativism says we can’t know for certain what happened in the past, so it is subject to interpretation – and reinterpretation.  Dan Brown subscribes to historical relativism.

Relativism falls apart logically when you examine it too closely.  “As a worldview, it simply doesn’t work,” Copan said.

A relativist believes that relativism is true not just for himself, but for everyone else. The problem with this is that an honest relativist cannot apply his own beliefs about relativism to relativism itself. “[If] every belief is as good as every other belief … it becomes self-refuting … self-contradictory. They self-destruct under examination.”

Copan admitted that postmodernism has its good points. It reminds us that absolutely certainty is impossible.  “Between absolute, mathematical certainty and utter skepticism are degrees of knowledge – the highly plausible, the probable, and the reasonable, for instance.  We rely on these standards every day. Certain beliefs are more plausible or likely than others. We can know truly, even if we don’t know exhaustively, or with absolute certainty.”

Copan defined truth as “a belief, story, ideal, or statement that matches up with reality or corresponds to the way things really are.”

Something can be true even if people don’t believe it. The world was round even when people believed it was flat. The false belief did not render the truth invalid. Truth is true even if people don’t acknowledge it.

Postmodernists generally want to rely on their gut in what they choose to believe. Of course, feelings are tricky, fickle things. They are only one part of who we are. “The capacity to feel is a God-given gift,” Copan said, “but so is the capacity to think, to act in a morally responsible way, to discipline ourselves … and to shape our character into something better than it presently is. If we follow only our feelings, then we’re being false to all of who we are and what we were designed to be.”

Francis Shaeffer, who wasn’t mentioned in the book, once showed this example. If morals are relative, it not really wrong if I pour a pot of boiling water over your head. It’s okay for me, so what’s the problem?

When it comes to postmodern relativism, we see it no clearer than when we approach Jesus Christ. What does it matter if we create our own Jesus?

Christianity is not primarily about subscribing to a set of doctrines, Copan explained. We’re called into a relationship with Jesus, rather than into a doctrinal system.  The Bible is a narrative of God’s interaction with us. If we lose this notion of relationship, we risk losing the heart of Christian faith. Doctrines flow from relationship, but faith is putting our belief in someone, not agreeing with a set of predetermined statements.

“What we believe about Jesus doesn’t really affect Who He is,” Copan explained. “Our beliefs can’t change reality. Whether we choose to believe it or not, Jesus is the unique Son of God.  He convincingly demonstrated the trustworthiness of His remarkable claims through His resurrection.”

Jesus is Who He is. It doesn’t matter what I or anyone else thinks.  My belief has nothing to do with Who He is.  The sooner postmodern man figures that out, the sooner we can honestly examine truth.

 

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