Christian Doctrines

Book Review: “On a Complex Theory of a Simple God” By Christopher Hughes

Christopher Hughes’ work, On a Complex Theory of a Simple God: An Investigation in Aquinas’ Philosophical Theology (hereafter CTSG), is part of a series of books (on independent topics by different authors—meaning one can jump in on whichever book one wants) called the “Cornell Studies in the Philosophy of Religion.” It is the first book in the series which I have read (though I have 5 more sitting on my shelf), but if it is any indicator of things to come, I highly recommend this series.

CTSG mostly focuses on Thomistic Philosophy, but it specifically highlights St. Thomas Aquinas’ arguments for Divine Simplicity and his discussions of the Trinity and the Incarnation. I must admit that initially I found it hard to maintain interest in this work. Thomistic Philosophy is by no means a specialty of mine, and I got the book mostly because I was vaguely interested in whether or not Divine Simplicity—that is, the idea that God is “omnino simplex”, altogether simple, and “in no way composite” (Hughes, 4). Hughes, however, manages to make a topic in which I displayed only a passing interest into a page-turner of a philosophical work.

Divine Simplicity was appealing for a few reasons. First, if God is composite in no way, then it seems as though many objections to the compatibility of properties of God—say, of omnipotence and omniscience—fail to be objections at all. For if God is absolutely simple, omnipotence just is omniscience (following the example) and vice versa, and if this is the case then to object that omniscience and omnipotence are incompatible would be to object that two things which are identical are incompatible. Aquinas holds to this very view. On Aquinas’ view, “His [God’s] existence is also His goodness, wisdom, justice, omnipotence, and so on” (22). Second, if God is perfectly simple, then it seems as though God as a hypothesis, if you will, increases in merit, granting Occam’s Razor. For, if God is absolutely simple, then to object to God’s existence as being too complex (as some do) is entirely specious, as God is not complex at all. Third, philosophical interest in Divine Simplicity had me longing to learn more about it.

Hughes’ analysis and critique of the arguments for Divine Simplicity are fantastic. His capabilities in discerning and detailing the complexities involved in Thomistic Philosophy are spectacular. It is his unbiased analysis, however, which most characterizes CTSG. Throughout pages 28-57, he destroys (in my opinion) Aquinas’ arguments for Divine Simplicity. Then, he argues that God cannot be identical to His insular attributes, which counters the argument in defense of Divine Simplicity that, roughly, ‘omnipotence and omniscience may appear to be different, but perfection of either quality shows that they are actually the same’ (60-68).

Yet despite his rather convincing arguments against Divine Simplicity as drawn out by most proponents, Hughes also outlines a possibility for a defense for that very idea. For if 1) God exists necessarily in the logical sense, and 2) if all things are contingent upon God’s existence (two premises Hughes disagrees with, but does not offer an argument to refute per se—instead he refers to Humean thinking as a reason not to accept 1)), then

“[b]y 2), any individual substance in world w distinct from B exists there only at the sufferance of B, and would not have existed if B had exercised its will in a way it might have. By 1), we know that there is an individual substance—the individual in our world which is (a) God—which exists in w, and does not exist at the sufferance of B, that is, could not have failed to exist through any possible exercise of B’s will. It follows that the  individual who is a God in our world is identical to B. Since B and w were chosen arbitrarily, we may conclude that nothing actual or possible could have the specific nature Deity without also being the very same individual as God. In other words, God’s individual essence is no different from His specific essence” (99).

This allows the defender of Divine Simplicity a “way out,” if you will. For she can hold that 1) and 2) are both true, and then argue (though, as Hughes notes, in “a flavor more Leibnizian than Thomistic” [100]) that God exists and his specific and individual essence must be identical. This allows for a modification of Divine Simplicity which avoids the downfalls Hughes points out in the other formulations.

Another fantastic section of Hughes’ work is his defense of omniscience. He suggests (following David Lewis) that omniscience can be defined as “X is omniscient if and only if X knowingly (that is, in such a way as to satisfy the conditions for knowledge) self-ascribes all and only those properties that X exemplifies” (126). This suggested definition of omniscience has much to recommend it. First, it clearly avoids any problems with the supposed incompatibility of a timeless deity and knowledge, thus allowing those who favor Divine Timelessness (such as myself) to have an adequate, defensible view of omniscience. Second, it allows for the compatibility of a timeless, changeless, and omniscient deity (127).

The rest of CTSG is made up of Hughes analyzing Aquinas’ view of the Trinity and the Incarnation. This covers approximately half the work, but I feel the need to sum up Hughes wonderful analysis simply by saying that it seems he has shown there are serious problems with Aquinas’ formulation of the Trinity, granting Aquinas’ presuppositions about identity, simplicity, etc., but it seems that Hughes “way out” for the defender of Divine Simplicity outlined above could potentially be a “way out” for those desiring to defend the Trinity and the Incarnation on a modified account. Hughes himself offers possibilities for defending each of these doctrines which may not necessarily require abandoning Simplicity (cf. 251-253 for one example). As it stands, however, it seems that Aquinas himself has not provided an adequate defense of the propositions he wishes to claim as “compossible.” Rather, defenders of Thomistic philosophy must turn outside of that realm–towards analytic or Liebniz–to reconcile those doctrines which Aquinas wishes to defend.

Hughes does a simply fantastic job of outlining Aquinas’ arguments, analyzing them, critiquing them, supplementing them, and then providing a final analysis. Hughes remains fair and, I would say, unbiased throughout his work. He allows for the possibilities that central theses of Aquinas’ “philosophical theology” are indeed correct, granting formulations Hughes himself does not share. I, however, do share many of the premises of those who can defend Divine Simplicity, and therefore continue to find it a “bruised, not beaten” doctrine. Hughes’ insightful work should command a place of care on any philosopher of religion’s bookshelf, as he has not only written a wonderfully compelling investigation into Aquinas’ philosophical theology, he has also contributed to modern Thomistic and analytic philosophy, but most of all he demonstrated a willingness to concede possibilities on the “other side” of the debate and a rigorous approach to analytic philosophy of religion which one can only hope will be emulated.

Source:

Hughes, Christopher. On a Complex Theory of a Simple God: An Investigation in Aquinas’ Philosophical Theology. Cornell University Press. 1989.

Book Review: “Revelation” by Richard Swinburne

“Revelation: From Metaphor to Analogy” by Richard Swinburne is one of those rare books which forces one to think about and analyze every argument it contains, whether one agrees or disagrees with the conclusions. It addresses claims of revelation. Can it be true that a religion’s books or creeds contain truth?

The book starts off with a section on “Meaning” which analyzes terminology, presupposition, analogy and metaphor, and genre in turn. This section is fantastic reading for the philosopher of religion as it takes some higher notions found in philosophy of language and applies them to religious studies. The chapter on presupposition was the first part I found particularly striking. It is here that Swinburne first begins to lay the groundwork for his overarching argument about the Christian Revelation and Scripture. He argues that presuppositions are not contained in the message conveyed in spoken or written word. He writes, “In order to separate statement from presupposition, we must ask, whatever the speaker’s actual beliefs, are there any common beliefs of the clture presupposed in the utterance which can be siphoned off, leaving what the culture would naturally suppose to be its message intact?” (30). This “siphoning” of meaning is necessary because “[a]lthough speakers may use declarative sentences for many different purposes… the paradigm job of such sentences is to convey information, to ad to the hearer’s stock of beliefs” (29). Swinburne offers the following example to demonstrate his argument. Suppose a Roman historian wrote that “The divine Augustus traveled to Brindisi.” This sentence is not intended to convey the information that Augustus is divine. That Augustus is divine is presupposed by the author of the sentence. Rather, the sentence is intended to tell the reader that Augustus traveled to Brindisi (29). Swinburne also outlines and describes various genres and how they can relate to a religious revelation.

The next part of the book argues for four possible tests to determine whether a divine revelation has occurred. These tests are 1) whether the content is the “kind of thing which God would have chosen to reveal to humans” 2) “whether the method of expression is one to be expected of God,  3) whether “the church has developed the original revelation in a way which plausibly brings out what was involved in it …”, and 4) “whether the interpretations provide the sort of teaching which God would have chosen to give to humans” (107-108). He argues convincingly for each of these tests applying to the Christian Revelation.

The third part of “Revelation” examines the Christian Revelation specifically. Swinburne argues that Jesus and His message were the “original revelation” provided to believers (145ff). It is in his discussion of the Church and the Bible, however, wherein he forwards his most controversial claims.

The Church, argues Swinburne, is responsible for more than simply establishing the canon of Scripture. He argues that the Church has a central place alongside Scripture in the Christian Revelation, for without the church, interpretation could not happen. The creedal statements central to Christian faith may not have been derived had it not been for the Church (see page 189ff). Further, the Church acts as a method for assessing “rival interpretations” of various Scriptural truths (200). It is undeniable that Swinburne advocates the Church as a high authority–perhaps even on a higher level than Scripture, for he argues that many conflicting interpretations of Scripture can receive almost equal footing on Scripture alone, so the Church is required to determine which of these should be approved (again see p. 200 for an example of this). Swinburne’s view of the Church is one of the most important things in this book, in my opinion, for the Christian to read and digest, regardless of whether one agrees or disagrees. For one’s view of the authority of a church body is vastly important with regards to how one views other doctrines. As Swinburne writes, “Which doctrines are to count as central Christian doctrines… depend[s] very much on which ecclesial bodies we judge to be part of the Church. The wider our Church, the fewer such doctrines there will be” (214). This is undoubtedly true, for if one takes only the Roman Catholic Church, for example, as a valid ecclesial body, then one’s net of central Christian doctrines can include everything sanctioned by the Roman Catholics. But let us say that one takes both the Lutheran Church and the Roman Catholic church to be authoritative, or perhaps they take the Orthodox, Roman, and Reformed churches as authoritative. Well then it seems that only those doctrines which all these bodies agree on can be regarded as central, or essential to, true faith. For if one church contains a doctrine which the others do not, it cannot be regarded as absolutely essential if the other churches are still legitimate. If it were essential and the other bodies disagreed, then those other bodies would not be legitimate, by the criterion of not agreeing on an essential Christian doctrine.

This then provides a valuable springboard for thought about central Christian teaching and what doctrines and ecclesial bodies one regards as valid or central. Swinburne’s discussion on this topic cannot be downplayed. He goes into various criteria which can be used to determine whether a Church body is legitimate. These arguments are incredibly in-depth and interesting. His arguments force the reader to consider his ideas.

The Bible is the final major topic Swinburne addresses in “Revelation.” Here we see all the groundwork laid in Part 1 come into play. What do genre, presuppositions, etc. tell us about the meaning and interpretation of Scripture? This section is another which the Christian would do well to ponder. Swinburne argues that we must take Scripture as being entirely true, but he qualifies this claim by arguing we must also realize what Scripture is–a collection of books written with divine approval but by human hands. Thus, he argues, we should take great care to realize the difference between presupposition and message, history and allegory, etc. While I do not agree with Swinburne on every point, I find his insights particularly interesting. He notes that “[t]he falsity of the presuppositions does not, therefore… affect the truth-value of a sentence which uses them” (244). This kind of argument can be of direct worth to the apologist, for example. He utilizes Genesis 8:2(“The fountains of the deep and the windows of the heavens were closed, the rain from the heavens was restrained” ESV) as an example: “The sky has no windows out of which the rain comes, but the quoted sentence is just the author’s way of saying, within the presuppositions of his culture, that the rain ceased” (244-245). This is a different approach apologetically than the one I would tend to favor, which would argue that the word “window” is used here in a metaphorical or analogous way.

Swinburne’s high view of the church is necessary alongside his view of Scripture. Swinburne writes that “The slogan of Protestant confessions , ‘the infallible rule of interpretation of Scripture is the Scripture itself’, is quite hopeless” (255). For it is the Church which determines acceptable interpretations of Scripture.  He writes that “Scripture belongs to the Church” (256). Reading and interpreting Scripture requires a guide. This guide “…is the Church’s theological definitions and other central teaching, its tradition of the proper way to interpret the Bible, and its tradition of how particular passages should be interpreted” (256).

Swinburne’s final chapter seeks to discuss and interpret moral teaching found in Scripture.

Swinburne’s central argument is strong. God has given us a Revelation and has given us the tools to discover what it means. This Revelation is found in Scripture and historically in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. It is the nuances of Swinburne’s argument which make the book so wonderfully useful. I found myself at times nodding, agreeing with everything Swinburne wrote. At other times I shook my head, jotting rebuttals alongside his text. But the vast majority of the book found me engaged on a new level with topics I thought I had addressed and laid to rest. While I disagree with details of Swinburne’s argument (i.e. he accepts the JEDP view of Scripture, denies the historicity of the person of Jonah, etc.), I found his core arguments compelling. We do need to remember the genre(s) we read as we read Scripture. We need to realize that the ultimate author of Scripture is God, but that Scripture was written within a set of presuppositions distinct from our own.

Swinburne’s analysis of the authority of the church was equally compelling. While he holds a higher view of church authority than I do, his view intertwines the Church with Scripture in compelling ways which absolutely must be considered.

It has been over a month since I finished this work by Swinburne, yet I have found myself consistently turning back to it, and even while writing this review, I found myself contemplating his arguments and drawing truths from him while still disagreeing with him on other areas. I reiterate that I find this work absolutely essential reading for the Christian philosopher. It will challenge and reward the reader in ways that may be entirely unexpected.

Source:

Swinburne, Richard. Revelation: From Metaphor to Analogy. 2nd Edition. Oxford. 2007.

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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author.

Christian Doctrines and Analytic Philosophy

I’ve been pondering the possibility for analytic philosophy to explore Christian Doctrine. Clearly, the prospects aren’t terribly dim, for some (such as Alvin Plantinga and, to a greater extent, Richard Swinburne) have done this exact thing. I think it is important to utilize philosophy and theology in a mutually beneficial relationship, and I personally find the results when this happens to be singularly beautiful.

Why undertake this project? First, because I’ve seen a number of objections to core Christian theology which have been disturbing to me. This includes challenges to the doctrine of the Trinity, redemption/atonement, baptism, etc. Second, because I think it is necessary–or at least expedient–to outline doctrines in forms that can be analyzed. Objections to Christianity often come in the form of “X doctrine of Christianity is unintelligible, so it’s false.” If it can be demonstrated that X is intelligible, then such objections fail.

Is such a defense Scriptural? I believe so. Paul often utilized philosophy in his witnessing (see Acts 17:28 for an example). He argued from Scripture, but also utilized philosophical insights to witness to the Greeks. Not only that, but Jesus instructs us to love God with all of our mind (Mark 12:30).

How might such a defense look? It will look AWESOME. Okay, seriously, it will look something like this:

Sin (hereafter s) is broadly defined as any act which distances one from God. Now, on Christianity, s is that for which we must be atoned, for all have committed at least one act that can be classified as s. However, all who commit such acts are to be held accountable. But before God, who can stand (Psalm 130:3)? Therefore it must be an act of God to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

I put that together just now for the sake of an example, but I’ll be going into more depth as I explore various Christian doctrines in light of analytic philosophy and Scripture.

I’m excited for this project, though I must admit it will likely take quite a bit of time to put anything together for it, as one must not only utilize analytic philosophy, but also doctrine and exegesis for this kind of project.

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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author.

God and Time: Initial Thoughts

God’s relationship to time is a topic of vast philosophical import. I can honestly say I didn’t even know it was so hotly debated until very recently. The topic has served to show me once again that the  more I read, the more I learn, the more I will realize I have so much more to learn.

So why the heated debate? What are the sides? How do we research such a topic?

The sides of the debate are (probably not limited to):

1. God is timeless- on this view, God transcends time altogether (Craig, 29). It is also defined by saying, “God… exists, but exists at no time” (Leftow, xi)

2. God is temporal (or, keeping with the trend of listing God’s attributes as the omni-‘s–omnitemporal)- on this view (usually), God existed timelessly before the creation of the world, but is temporal once time and the world have come into being. “God co-exists only with the present moment or ‘now.’ He is eternal in the sense that He endures forever” (Craig, 77).

Why the heated debate? Again, it may be surprising that I have never been attuned to this debate once the implications of God’s relationship with time become clear. Indeed, God’s relationship with time is almost basic to any understanding of God’s attributes. God’s omnipotence, omniscience, etc. will be entirely different if God is temporal as opposed to timeless and vice-versa. How so? Let’s look at just one example. Take the conjunction “God is omniscient and omnipotent” (hereafter O). Now, if God is temporal, O seems to have a few problems that need working through. For if God is omniscient and temporal, then He knows in advance what He is going to do, which seems to limit God’s power, thus making O seem unlikely. However, if God is timeless, then He doesn’t really know anything in advance, He just knows all things tenselessly (in other words, He knows things in advance from our, temporal view, but because God is outside of time, such temporal terms simply do not apply to God). This means there is no limit on God’s omnipotence because such a problem relies on a tensed, temporal view of God (there is much more to be said on this issue, but I am simplifying it for the sake of an example). Further, any view on God’s relationship with time will also involve God’s relationship with His creation.

Thus, it seems extremely important to develop a view on God and time, which is exactly what I intend to do in this series of posts. I will be exploring the issue by looking through Bible passages which discuss God and time, by reading books and articles on the subject, and by condensing my studies into posts.

Sources:

Craig, William Lane. Time and Eternity: Exploring God’s Relationship to Time. Crossway. 2001.

Leftow, Brian. Time and Eternity. Cornell University Press. 1991.

Omniscience, Necessity, and Human Freedom

I’m continually frustrated when the concept of freedom of the will comes up among people, even in Christian circles, because it seems that inevitably people start to deny that freedom of the will is incompatible with the God of Classical Theism. I am a firm believer in human freedom of the will and I believe it is fully compatible with omniscience. (Though I do not deny that our human will is corrupted by the fall into sin and that salvation is the act of God, not a work of man… These things are most certainly true.)

Generally the objection is something like this: If God knows everything and is all-powerful, then everything is pre-determined.

I still have not seen any solid argument for why this should be the case whatsoever. The key, as I understand it, is the connection between foreknowledge and causation.

I don’t see any reason to believe that if a being that is omnipotent and omniscient knows that x will happen, that being somehow causes or determines that x must happen. Why should this be the case? Simply knowing with certainty what will happen in the future does not somehow mean that this being has somehow made a causal link between its knowledge and the future, rather, it just means that this being knows what any other being is going to do.

What connection is there between knowledge of an event in the future and determining it? I’d like any kind of analytic argument to try to deny that human freedom and omniscience are compatible.

I’ve argued elsewhere that these concepts are compatible, and I’d like to make this point more clear now.

Take “P” to mean “God [in Classical Theism–i.e. omniscient, omnipotent, etc.] knows in advance that some event, x, will happen”

Take “Q” to mean “some event, x, will happen”

1. □(P⊃Q)

2. P

3. Therefore, Q

I wanted to draw it in symbolic logic to make my point as clear as possible. It is necessarily true that if God knows x will happen, then x will happen. But then if one takes these terms, God knowing x will happen only means that x will happen, not that x will happen necessarily. Certainly, God’s foreknowledge of an event means that that event will happen, but it does not mean that the event could not have happened otherwise. If an event happens necessarily, that means the event could not have happened otherwise, but God’s foreknowledge of an event doesn’t somehow transfer necessity to the event, it only means that the event will happen. It could have been otherwise, in which case, God’s knowledge would have been different. The problem many people make is that they try to make the syllogism:

1. □(P⊃Q)

2. P

3. Therefore, □Q

This is actually an invalid argument. The only thing that follows from □(P⊃Q) is that, “necessarily, if P then Q,” not “if P, then, necessarily Q.”

It is true that “necessarily, if God knows that some event, x, will happen, then some event, x, will happen”… but then it doesn’t follow from this that some event, x, happens necessarily. Thus, the event x is not predetermined simply by God’s foreknowledge of an event.

The objection is sometimes simply put forward as: Necessarily, God cannot error in his knowledge. If God knows some event x, will happen, then x will happen. Therefore, necessarily, x will happen.

Take P and Q as above

Take R to be “God cannot error in his knowledge”

1. □R

2. P⊃Q

3. Q

Again, this simply is an unsound and invalid argument. Simply stating that □R doesn’t show that for every event x that God knows, □x. It simply means that □R. R does not have a causal link to x (or Q above). It is true that □R on Classical Theism, but this does not mean that □Q or □P. There must be some argument to make P or Q necessary in order for there to be some kind of predetermined future, and I have no idea how an argument like that might go.There are ways that I can think of to formulate it, but it involves simply assuming that □R means that □P or □Q, so it would then be question-begging.

Perhaps I could take an example. Let’s say that I’m going to go to classes tomorrow (and I do hope I will, I don’t like missing classes!). God knows in advance that I’m going to go to classes tomorrow. His knowledge of this event means that it will happen, but it doesn’t mean that I couldn’t choose to stay in and sleep for a while, or play my new copy of Final Fantasy XIII, or do something more useless with my time. If I chose to, say, play Final Fantasy XIII (a strong temptation!), then God simply would have known that I would play FFXIII. His knowledge does not determine the outcome, His knowledge is simply of the outcome.

I’m open to hearing any analytic argument that manages to show how necessity can be transferred to events simply by God’s knowledge of them, but I’m skeptical as to the prospects of whether it can be done.

This argument can be seen in William Lane Craig’s writings like The Only Wise God and also in his podcast episodes on the doctrine of God.

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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author.