The Gospel of Peace in a Violent World is a collection of essays centered around the defense of Christian pacifism. The essays are broadly arranged around five parts- biblical reflections, learning from others, war and violence, race, gender, and disability, and finally immigration and environment.
Reviewing a large, important collection like this forces a reviewer to skim across or even past many fascinating topics. We must select from among numerous excellent essays and highlight just a few for our readers. And that is the unenviable task to which I now turn. Suffice to say, this collection as a whole is well worth readers’ time.
Part one turns to biblical reflections on pacifism. I was somewhat surprised to see the very first essay by Eric A. Seibert come out and say bluntly that Christians should push back on the notion of God as warrior and indeed reject that portrayal. In response to the question of what to do with passages which simply state God is warrior, Seibert writes, “some Christian pacificstts will find it difficult to state publicly their rejection of the image of God as warrior…” for reasons such as personal cost or simply personal pre-commitment to seeing how the Bible is read. However, Seibert responds, “these assumptions about God’s very active role in determining the content of the Bible do not match the evidence at hand. It appears that ancient Israelites were free to write about God in ways that made sense in their particular historical and cultural context…” (19). This full on confrontation with biblical texts often used to undercut pacifism is a significant difference from even the next essay by T.C. Ham, who instead argues broadly that the Bible’s broad teaching on shalom is the focus. The difference between these two approaches–direct acknowledgement of difficult passages and reading of them as reflections of the culture from which they sprang vs. attempted integration–starts the book with a clear message: Christian pacifism is broader than one may think.
Part two introduces the concept in one essay of a “Pentagon for Peace” in which Randy S. Woodley argues for resources being committed to peaceful undertakings rather than the warfare/mutual destruction that seems to be the national priority today (79ff). Other essays show MLK Jr.’s passionate peace-giving activism, other historical examples of nonviolence, integration of nonviolence into human rights advocacy and more. Part three reflects upon war and violence in a number of essays. Perhaps the most shocking essay here (at least for one not as well versed in pacifism) is Ted Grimsrud’s “Christian Pacifism and the ‘Good War'” in which he notes that World War II is often taken for granted as a paradigm case of just war theory, but that upon examination, much of the justice behind the war can find cracks in the façade. This essay alone was worth reading the book for, and while I’m not totally convinced by it, I found it incredibly deep and challenging. Those who scoff at pacifism and use paradigm cases like this to argue against it should contend with such a well-reasoned argument. Other essays in this section push back on certain kinds of Christian peacemaking through violence and contend that Christianity can be a light in the darkness in the midst of violence.
Part four turns to questions of nonviolence in race, gender, and disability, bringing forward numerous surprising topics and insights to these important topics that go beyond what this reviewer would have typically associated with pacifism. These essays show the breadth of the question of violence and peace in Christian theology and how one’s theology of those questions certainly has an impact beyond the simple question of whether war is just. Part five continues that theme, applying it to questions about immigration and the environment.
My overall impression coming away from the book is that the case for pacifism is much stronger than I’d thought. I still believe that Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s ethic of peace and violence is likely the best approach, however. In that ethic, Christians may engage in violent resistance while also acknowledging the guilt which they are taking in while doing so. As Bonhoeffer wrote- “Everyone who acts responsibly becomes guilty.” Interestingly, Bonhoeffer is cited multiple times in this collection, largely as a voice for pacifism or at least a way to lean towards it. I would agree, as Bonhoeffer has plenty written that could lean that direction. A holistic reading of Bonhoeffer doesn’t portray him as a committed pacifist, however, and I maintain that position myself–peace is preferred, but resistance is allowed, while acknowledging the guilt and sinfulness that involves.
The Gospel of Peace in a Violent World provides one of the most robust defenses of pacifism I’ve read. It’s highly recommended.
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SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
Teach Your Children Well seeks to provide a guide for discipling children. It has activities, stats, and ideas for forming faith throughout the lives of kids.
The first few chapters cover some issues the author sees as important for readers. It starts with “bad news” about faith retention rates, but then goes into good news of faith retention being higher when faith is modeled and practiced at home. This all makes sense, but it also was a little off-putting. I am likely from a different theological stream from the author, and that made some of the comments about children’s faith and the extreme fear of some kind of falling away or even certain moral questions difficulties for me in the book.
Sarah Cowan Johnson then breaks out a bunch of practical things to do with kids, even breaking them down into age-appropriate chapters. Some of these activities were really surprising to me. One example was the practice labeled Ignatian Prayer. In this practice, readers settle into a comfortable position and imagine themselves with Jesus and in conversation with Jesus, ultimately writing down things that strike them and “testing” it against Scripture. I thought this was certainly an interesting way to go about the practice and learn more about oneself while praying and imagining with God. Concrete examples like this are abundant in the book, and provide readers with real ways to integrate faith into the lives not just of children but also themselves.
I do have a few concerns with the book. I mentioned already the fear-inducing method of the first chapter. It seemed an odd way to start off a book that also potentially places a lot of the responsibility and implied liability for the faith of children on their parents instead of on God’s grace. I also am concerned about the somewhat rigorous way several ideas are enforced or implied to be necessary. For example, pages 44-45 feature a “family time audit” broken down into 8 segments and all 7 days. Parents are told to fill in the “audit” with initials of kids or F for family time so they can see what and where they could do differently. It’s presented in a non-judgmental tone, but the “feel” of it is off. It reads kind of like “if you don’t have enough family time built in, that’s bad.” And it may be… but I’m not sure this is the way to convey that. Only one page later, on 46, the author writes, “In addition to time, the other thing parents have is spiritual authority. One simple definition of spiritual authority is the right to make use of God’s power on earth.” I am quite leery about this terminology and the drawn conclusions about where that authority goes. It’s not necessarily seen as an authoritarian way to go over your children’s head on spiritual matters, but again, I’m wondering about the direction. The author writes specifically of confronting “shrieking demons” in Uganda, but then doesn’t build upon what that is supposed to mean in day-to-day life for the readers. A final difficulty is things like the Ignatian Prayer above–some of the suggested activities seem to go against the grain that they appear initially to do. Ignatian prayer at first seems to suggest a calm, meditative conversation with an imagined Jesus, building spiritual muscle by doing so. But then this imagined Christ has to be painstakingly evaluated against Jesus in Scripture, which isn’t bad, but does imply that something is wrong with oneself if one imagines, well, wrongly.
Teach Your Children Well has plenty of activities and ideas for building faith alongside kids. Parents from various Christian traditions will likely find at least something to take away and build upon in the book.
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SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
The question of what Christians ought to do when it comes to war is one that has a long, deep history of thought in historical theology. It’s one of those questions that can seem incredibly straightforward, depending upon one’s proof texts, only to become increasingly complex as the discussion goes on. War, Peace, and Violence: Four Christian Views attempts to introduce readers to the debates about these questions by providing four major points of view on the topic.
Reviewing a multiview book is always a challenge, as summarizing each point or view is difficult in the limited time of a review. Broad comments are all one can do in this case, and so that’s what I’ll offer. The views presented in the book are a just war view by Eric Patterson, a nonviolence view by Myles Werntz, a Christian realist view by A.J. Nolte, and a church historical view by Meic Pearse. Each author is careful to say their own presentation is not the extent of the type of view they’re presenting. Indeed, each is a typology. This especially seems the case with the nonviolent view, in which Werntz explicitly notes differences from his approach and others related to Christian nonviolence, as well as the vast landscape of possibilities contained within the family of views about nonviolence.
I admit a little bit of confusion over the views of “church historical” and “Christian realist.” The latter seems not much different from a just war theory, basically saying that the realities of the world in which we live mean that we must use violence at times to act justly. The former doesn’t attempt a consensus view of the church on violence, but rather offers a kind of composite of the author’s perspective of at least one strand of historical Christian thought on the topic. Perhaps the sharpest interaction is that of Patterson’s (just war) response to Pearse, in which he asserts that Pearse fails to reference the best historians or theologians on violence and war in Christian history, and then Pearse fires back noting that it’s not his fault Patterson has read different books–continuing on to note that Patterson’s own perspective seems to lean towards only modern American theologizing on the topic (216-217; cf. 197). Because of the limited space in a book like this, though, the point-counterpoint barely had time to get off the ground before it had to be brought to a close. I appreciated later in Pearse’s response his note of the difference between his preferred method–that, he says, of Bonhoeffer as approaching the necessity of violence with repentance and weeping, knowing it is sinful–versus that of Neibuhr, which is a more coldly rational approach. All of that said, there seems to be little at least here to distinguish between those two views, and I suspect it is more my own lack of knowledge on the topic than it is the authors’ fault.
The hardest questions raised are against pacifism, again raised in Pearse’s essay in which he lays out gruesome scenarios that truly did happen and continue to happen. What is one supposed to do when faced with relentless evil and violence with no possible right answer. Pearse notes that the only response is total horror even as one takes action. Yet it seems to simple to face the view of nonviolence with holding up violent questions. Here is where I personally lean into Bonhoeffer myself, seeing that he had a kind of sliding scale of necessity of action, with a strong preference for pacifism that ultimately gave way to violent resistance–despite him still holding it to be sinful (see, for example, this work). While I don’t hold to pacifism, I find it an appealing view, and Werntz did an excellent job noting the different ways it can be presented and thought about.
Just war is one of the simpler to understand positions, but that doesn’t make it the right one or the strongest. However, reading Patterson’s essay may sway some towards his view. He notes that “Christians are called to serve in the time and place where God has put them…” and that could include “fighting on the frontlines to stop genocide” (40-41). But such a view also runs into difficulty, effectively having to go beyond Jesus’s command to turn the other cheek and reason from that to participating in drone strikes on potentially violent targets. I kind of wish some of the others had pressed harder against this position in the responses.
War, Peace, and Violence does a good job introducing readers to the major topics related to Christianity and war. Readers interested in the topic should view it as a good way to pick up discussion and further reading recommendations on the topic.
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SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
An Artful Relic: The Shroud of Turin in Baroque Italy by Andrew R. Casper is an impressive study of the impact of the Shroud of Turin on art, artists, and society in the 1500s-1600s. Not only is it lavishly illustrated, it also provides excellent historical data for those interested in the Shroud of Turin.
The thesis of the book is simple: the Shroud of Turin was immensely important in shaping art and even culture in Baroque Italy. That said, the work touches upon many important aspects for those interested in Shroud research. One aspect is the debate over its authenticity in history. While the debate over the Shroud’s authenticity continues today, the historical debate should inform those interested in the question. Casper notes that the acceptance of the Shroud’s authenticity in Italy (and elsewhere) was at least partially due to the immense influence of the House of Savoy. Their vested interest in making the Shroud a focal point for veneration and cultic worship greatly raised its esteem in Europe. Additionally, its survival of a fire in 1532 was seen as only explicable by miraculous intervention, thus leading more to accepting the Shroud as authentic (10). Neither of these, of course, will fully tilt opinion in modern minds regarding the Shroud’s authenticity. For people interested in that question, though, they should take into account the fact that the Shroud’s authenticity only became cemented in this time, and that its appearance in history cannot be traced to earlier than the latter half of the 1300s.
Casper draws attention to the way artists and others commented upon the supposed miraculous nature of the Shroud’s image in Baroque Italy. This included much comment on the way blood formed the image. The notion that the Shroud was explicitly a work of art made by God arose in this time period. It was insisted that God’s handiwork was shown with Christ’s blood as the pigmentation (57-58). These contentions had to deal with earlier Christian theology that argued against the possibility of Christ’s blood being left behind in the resurrection. For example, Aquinas had argued that because Christ’s body was true and complete in the Resurrection, the blood all rose with Christ “without any diminution” (73). Of course, not all Christian theology held to this view, and others argued that not all the blood had to be back in Christ’s body at the resurrection (74). The notion that it was the blood that formed the image stands in contrast to some modern arguments that radiation from the energy of resurrection formed the image. While it might be too strong to suggest that these two interpretations are irreconcilable, the inability to agree upon the formation of the Shroud remains an open question in research. Casper notes the blood as central to the veneration and worship of/around the Shroud in Baroque Italy, however. This would suggest that any modern explanation that does not hold to the same view has shown evolution from and important differences with earlier thought on the Shroud.
Casper goes over the influence of the Shroud on art in detail, noting the care with which copies were made, contrasting that with the apparent carelessness (or at least, lack of caring for) selection of artists to copy the Shroud was sometimes conducted. The Shroud and veneration thereof appeared all over in artwork, and influenced how illustrations of Christ were made. Casper forcefully makes the point that the Shroud as an artwork hasn’t been explored enough, and that its influence on contemporary artwork (here going with the assumption that it did not exist earlier than the 14th century) is quite strong.
Indeed, this raises a question for those who argue in favor of the Shroud’s authenticity: why did it not influence art so heavily before? While some arguments insist upon coins or certain icons being based upon the Shroud, no artwork exists depicting the Shroud qua Shroud prior to this time period. If the Shroud existed and was venerated in the 4th century or earlier, as some argue, why did artwork not depict it as such? No argument about the alleged secret history of the Shroud could work here, because if other artworks depicting Christ were widely distributed that depict a Christ allegedly based upon the Shroud of Turin, why could not the Shroud itself exist in such artworks? And why is it that only once an imminently powerful European family, the House of Savoy, threw their weight behind it that the Shroud rose in cultural prominence? One could anticipate various answers to these questions, but for this author, the answers are insufficient to demonstrate the Shroud’s actual existence prior to the 14th century. Indeed, the ubiquity and influence of the Shroud in and upon art in Baroque Italy seems an argument against its earlier existence.
Casper’s work is not, I should clarify, an argument for or against the authenticity of the Shroud. While he touches upon the question, his focus is almost entirely on the way the Shroud was depicted in art. nd this itself is a fascinating question. Casper presents many firsthand accounts of the Shroud, explanations of its depiction, and specific inquiries into artworks based upon it. The book therefore is of great interest to anyone interested in the Shroud of Turin.
An Artful Relic is a highly recommended read. It clearly demonstrates the influence of the Shroud in Baroque Italy and raises many questions and paths of research into religious art and the Shroud specifically. Those interested in the question of its authenticity should also read the book and see what questions and answers may come to mind based upon Casper’s thorough research.
Links
The Shroud of Turin- An Apologetics Sinkhole? – My first post in the series on the Shroud of Turin in which I comment broadly about my interest in it and why I think it demonstrates so many problems.
Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!
SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
A Supreme Love by William Edgar explores the history of jazz music and sets it alongside questions about the meaning of and hope found in Christianity.
I was surprised to find as much historical background as Edgar provides here, and I must say the surprise was a pleasant one. Indeed, the entire first part (of three) is dedicated to historical context, and shows not only how jazz music arose from spirituals, but also how Christianity was leveraged by the enslaved to find hope and even find acts of resistance against the enslavers, who themselves claimed Christianity as their faith. The juxtaposition of the two Christian-ities is stark at times. The colonialism and evils found therein is starkly displayed, such as the discussion of hope found in music even on board slave ships (23).
Later in the book, Edgar whisks readers past a who’s-who of jazz musicians, showing the evolution of the sound, the use of language, and the way it is intertwined with Christianity. Edgar demonstrates a total knowledge of the topic, effortlessly skimming lyrics from a variety of artists to demonstrate his points and cultural milieus that he is discussing through the book. That knowledge and intimate detail Edgar displays makes the book constantly readable, and, as odd as it sounds, turns it into something of a page-turner. This reader was happy to go along for the ride one afternoon, looking up the references Edgar provides for sampling the music as he goes (youtube links, largely, with wonderful renditions of jazz tunes from various artists and styles) even as I enjoyed the theological tenor of the book.
A Supreme Love is a fantastic read by someone who clearly loves the subject and knows it inside and out. I recommend it highly for basically anyone interested at all in music, justice, or Christianity. It’s a great all-around read.
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Book Reviews– There are plenty more book reviews to read! Read like crazy! (Scroll down for more, and click at bottom for even more!)
SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
One category of claims made in favor of the authenticity of the Shroud is that other artwork reflects the image of the Shroud. Often, this is linked to legal status for points of congruence. Thus, for example, it is argued that legally, 14 points of congruence between a suspect’s fingerprint and a fingerprint from a crime scene are necessary to determine a match. But with the Shroud, there are allegedly many icons and coins and other objects with a huge number of points of congruence well beyond the legal standard. Thus, in a video on Shroud3D (linked to me by one apologist interest in the Shroud), it is stated that there are “250 points of congruence between [the] Shroud and icon,” which is left as an argument for the clear link between the icon and the Shroud.
There are a number of problems with this species of argument related to the Shroud of Turin. I don’t have the time nor the expertise to analyze individual alleged points of congruence. Indeed, most of the sources I found making claims like this cited other sources, which in turn cited other sources, which in turn I was either unable to find or unable to determine the specific alleged points of congruence. The video I linked above shows someone waving a mouse icon on a screen at some alleged similarities between the Shroud and an icon, but that, with the claim on screen of “250 points of congruence,” does not do nearly enough to allow for any kind of detailed analysis. And, again, I am not any kind of expert in forensics of icons or the like. Instead, what I’m going to focus on are some broader problems with the argument.
Why It Matters
The reason this argument matters is that apologists of the Shroud claim that because coins, icons, and possibly other artworks reflect attempts to imitate the Shroud, this allows them to place the date of the Shroud much earlier in history than the earliest historical mentions of it (14th century). The logic is simple: if coins from earlier than the 14th century show that they are copied from or based upon the Shroud, it follows that the Shroud existed prior to the 14th century. I’ll have more to say about this argument in the future.
Points of Congruence
I mentioned above that claims are made about these alleged “points of congruence” or similarities between the Shroud of Turin and other objects. What I’ve struggled to track down are both the actual diagrams showing these exact points of congruence, the methodology used to detect these alleged points, and the linkage between those points and actual forensic evidence. After some deep searching online on the website of the Department of Justice, I was able to find a number of articles about fingerprint analysis. One of these, an abstract of a chapter of a book about forensics and fingerprinting, notes that identification of similarities involves: “perception, similarity judgments, memory, and decision making. These abilities vary among individuals and can be improved with training and experience.” This raises far more questions than it answers regarding the alleged proof of the earlier dating of the Shroud of Turin based upon its alleged “congruencies” with icons, coins, and the like.
First, what kind of actual training do those marking these supposed similarities have? From what I can tell, the people making these types of claims do not have any training in forensic analysis of photographs, art, or fingerprints. While expertise is not absolutely necessary in order to make identification of similarities (I’m fairly sure that without a degree in art, I could identify a painting by or in the style of Salvador Dali, for example), it certainly would give more credence to the claims being made. And, it’s possible that I, being fairly new to this discussion, am missing people with relevant degrees or job experience. But I do know how often I’ve seen online apologists making these claims without citation, and those doing that certainly do not have the relevant expertise, nor are they citing sources with that expertise. This alone should be enough to urge skepticism about said claims.
Second, what about making judgment calls? If I have an image with a crown of thorns and another image with a crown of thorns, how do I make a judgment call of how many similarities there are? One has a thorn piercing the forehead directly in the middle of the left eyebrow? That could be evidence of congruence, but it could also be happenstance–the thorns had to hit the head at some points, after all. It seems somewhat obvious to me that those making these judgment calls in favor of the Shroud may have significant bias in favor of finding more congruence than there may actually be. And without degrees or expertise to back them up, this becomes even more likely. It’s easy to multiply points of congruence when one wants them to be there. And, as I will note below, this is even more problematical because of the nature of what is being alleged about, anyway (see the section on Baseline below).
Third, it’s clear that nearly every aspect of these points of congruence regarding the Shroud and various artworks are matters of opinion. But when the subject being depicted has many features that are generally well-known (crucified figure, scourged, with crown of thorns, etc.), how does one determine whether a point of congruence is evidence of actual copying or whether it is just happenstance based upon the known circumstances of the subject being depicted? It seems like sorting that question out would be nearly impossible. It would rely so much upon judgment calls it would start to become absurd. Indeed, one would have to constantly assume intent into the depictions on the coins or icons–that they were intended to look like the Shroud, rather than happening to follow the same general outline of an image. But that brings us to the argument below.
There is a Baseline
Perhaps the most severe problem with claims about the supposed congruence between the Shroud and various artworks, coins, etc. is that these arguments fail to note the works are not independent. What I mean by this will take a little explaining. Going back to the example that is being cited–fingerprint analysis–the example has no independent goal towards which to aim. If I have a fingerprint from a crime scene, and I have the fingerprints of the suspect, I can compare them and conclude that if there are enough similarities–whatever that standard is legally–then that means they’re a match.
With the Shroud, however, we have two objects, the Shroud, and some other item, say a coin, which are not independent of each other. This isn’t like plucking a fingerprint from somewhere and hoping to find a match. Instead, it is taking two objects, each of which has a goal oriented towards depiction of a specific subject, and then declaring that because they have similarities to each other, they are necessarily connected. Icons, coins, and the like are all intended to depict Jesus, at least in some sense. Obviously, they didn’t have a photograph, and details about what Jesus looked like in the Bible are totally scarce, but there are very early artistic depictions of Jesus, some with significant variation. There are also obvious features of a crucified human being with a crown of thorns that would lead to points of similarity in depiction of a human in that state. Two people trying to show a crucified Jewish man from the first century would likely align on many “points of congruence” without having any other knowledge of each others’ works.
The history of iconography of Jesus is its own separate subject, but by the time the artworks like the coins and icons being discussed by Shroud apologists were created, there was already an established baseline for what Jesus was supposed to look like in such iconography. So if you have an established representative style for what a subject, Jesus, is supposed to look like, and you have an icon and a coin that match that style, having another object–the Shroud–have many dozens or even hundreds of “points of congruence” with those other objects does not prove that those objects are based upon the Shroud. At best, it just proves the Shroud is consistent with the established baseline representation of Jesus in that era, but that would hardly be surprising whether it is a copy or genuine. But if I have three independent things, Bob, a coin that is supposed to depict Bob, and something that allegedly is the cloth Bob was buried in, it would hardly be surprising that both the burial cloth and coin are similar, given that they are both trying to aim at Bob as an image. That would be true whether the cloth is genuine or not.
One example of this was found in a podcast I was listening to about the Shroud of Turin [and, of course, my apologies as I have been unable to find the exact time stamp, but it was the Backstory on the Shroud of Turin Podcast, “The Stories Coins Can Tell with Justin Robinson,” August 11, 2022]. In that podcast, the person being interviewed noted that the way a strand of hair came across Jesus’s face matches the Shroud of Turin. In fact, it gets better, said Robinson, because the coin had to be printed in reverse, and so the artist was intentionally matching how that strand of hair came across the face to the Shroud of Turin! But this argument is specious. If you have two depictions intentionally aimed at a long haired Jewish man crucified, it would hardly be surprising for there to be a strand of hair dangling across the face, no matter which side the strand of hair falls upon. And the argument about the image having to be flipped for a coin does nothing to strengthen the attempt to link it to the Shroud, apart from making a supposed link to intention that cannot be proven. But these types of arguments are put forth as if they give definitive proof of (or at least, strong evidence for) the notion that these artists were copying the Shroud. Even as one who would love to have such evidence, this rings hollow and reads as attempted justification for something tenuous at best.
Fingerprints and Coins?
Similarly, those making claims about coins, icons, and the like fail to recognize the goal-directed nature of artwork. These aren’t just someone’s happenstance fingerprints or something; these are intentional depictions of a figure purported to be a representation of Jesus. The people making the argument about forensic evidence in court of law and applying that same style of evidence-gathering to questions about the Shroud of Turin seem to be engaging in a category error.
Fingerprints, as one might note, are not coins. Fingerprints are subjects of nature, possibly subject to scarring, and have numerous other aspects that are quite different from coins or icons. Icons and the faces on coins are intentional depictions of something. They are meant to appear as whatever vision the artist intended. Not only does this make it problematic as an argument because there is a baseline, as noted above, but it also means that trying to establish a 1:1 correspondence between what is required to demonstrate in court of law that a suspect and a piece of fingerprint evidence are the same and what is required to establish that a coin was specifically based upon the Shroud at least requires some kind of argument to establish. But that argument is never made. It’s just noted that in court of law there is some number of similarities required for fingerprints, and then because there are allegedly even more similarities between the Shroud and some piece of artwork, that establishes the artwork was copying the Shroud.
The leaps in logic here are over vast chasms. Criminal forensic evidence just is not the same as analysis of art and vice versa. Expert analysis simply does not exist for comparison of the coins with the Shroud imagery, so far as I can tell. Forensic analysis would not be the correct category to make this comparison with anyway. What possible correspondence could there be between an artwork and a supposedly genuine image of a body and between a naturally occurring phenomenon–a fingerprint–and the discovery of a fingerprint at the scene of a crime? They’re entirely different fields of study with entirely different backgrounds, contexts, and levels of intent. While it sounds like a good argument to cite one to defend the other, when one examines the actual arguments, they fall apart.
Conclusion
There are more problems that could be raised with the supposed similarities between the Shroud and various icons or coins or other artworks, but many of them would need to focus on specific artwork. I have left aside analysis of specific, individual claims to focus more upon methodology. Because of this, my argument may be dismissed by some as being to vague or broad. That may be, but I think that the points I’ve raised here should cause some to pause and urge caution about claims related to the Shroud of Turin. So often, it’s not experts doing this analysis, the arguments are vague, or categories are confused. Apologists should hold ourselves to a higher standard, and I don’t think this is happening with the Shroud.
Links
The Shroud of Turin- An Apologetics Sinkhole? – My first post in the series on the Shroud of Turin in which I comment broadly about my interest in it and why I think it demonstrates so many problems.
Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!
SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
Ministers of a New Medium: Broadcasting Theology in the Radio Ministries of Fulton J. Sheen nd Walter A Maier by Kirk D. Farney reads in part as a biography, in part as a love letter to radio broadcasting, and finally as a deep look at the impact of broadcasted theology in the rising popularity and height of radio.
Before Farney dives into the radio ministers themselves, he briefly draws out the history and surging popularity of radio. He notes the penetration of radio into American homes and the way it was essentially set up to be a purveyor of truths to the masses. Broadcasters were seeking religious programing and as radio continued to soar in popularity, they became more specific about that which they were seeking. Enter Sheen and Maier.
Fulton J. Sheen was a Catholic priest and Walter A. Maier was a pastor of the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod. Though they came from different theological backgrounds, their focus on bringing Christianity to the masses through radio was shared. Farney first gives deep background for each of the radio ministers. Then, he draws out extensively the content and tone of their messages. For Maier, for example, there’s some discussion of continuity and shifting tone during World War II as he integrated more patriotic themes into his prayers and messaging (237ff). But Maier also did not shield the United States from criticism, drawing parallels between the Nazi treatment of the Jews and the United States’ towards Native and African Americans (239). Sheen bemoaned the state of universities and the alleged elitism of the intelligentsia (158). One could see easily how messages like these could resonate broadly.
I would have liked to have more critical interaction with the material presented. The strength of Farney’s work is in the lengthy, detailed presentation of the beliefs of the radio ministers. There is no shortage of anecdotes, quotes, and specificity related to the messages Sheen and Maier conveyed to the masses. But there is very little by way of analysis. It’s a kind of “just the facts” approach that left me longing for some analysis. That said, it’s clear that analysis is not the focus of the work. Instead, Farney is focused upon cluing readers into the broad messages and background of these two radio giants.
Ministers of a New Medium is a fascinating read, cluing readers into a somewhat forgotten era of broadly popular evangelism. Recommended.
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Links
Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!
Book Reviews– There are plenty more book reviews to read! Read like crazy! (Scroll down for more, and click at bottom for even more!)
SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
The immensely popular Avatar begged for a sequel nearly from release, and after 13 years, it’s finally arrived. “Avatar: The Way of Water” landed in theaters, and I won’t make a secret of being a huge fan of the franchise. But what might the movie have to say about worldview? Quite a bit, actually. Here, I’ll take a look at the movie from a worldview perspective. There will be SPOILERS throughout this post.
Family
It would be impossible to write about the film without reflecting on the way it discusses and represents family.
Jake seems obsessed with the notion of a father protecting his family. One of the later lines in the movie reflects this, and is a repeated comment: “A father protects his family.” The line, repeated near the end of the film, is somewhat ambiguous. Is James Cameron trying to put forward this line as a truism, or is he offering a subtle critique of Jake’s patriarchal tendencies, as with the critique of his militarism? I lean towards the latter. After all, Jake himself acknowledges his failure to protect his family, but still hangs together as a family and acknowledges the strength of that. Additionally, Neytiri did a huge amount of the protecting of family, especially in the final few scenes.
The importance of familial attachment is a major theme in the film. “Sullys stick together” is a recurring theme. But what does it mean? There are so many scenes that reflect on this. Neytiri tells Jake at one point that the family is not a squad–it’s not a military unit. It’s a unit based upon love, relationship, and bonds that go beyond those even of a squad. Jake’s attempted military style leadership isn’t working, and it is what causes some of the rifts in the family.
The loss of Neteyam was one of the most impactful scenes in the movie. When Jake and Neytiri bond with Eywa towards the end of the film, they see a younger Neteyam frolicking and playing with Jake years before. It’s both healing and unbelievably sad all at once. We know that we will see our loved ones again, but the time in between is one for healing and sorrow.
Colonialism and Peacemaking
The question of pacifism looms throughout the film. The people of the water aren’t involved in the conflict with the sky people (humans). They keep to themselves, living lives that remain tranquil despite conflict on the other parts of the planet. But can they ignore the plight of other peoples? Such a question must rank among the deepest in philosophy, and even the whale stand-ins, the tulkun. The tulkun shun even their own if they participate in a conflict, weighing the damage done by any conflict against those who decided to participate in it.
Colonialism from the sky people–the humans–is what drives the conflict. It’s impossible to miss the major themes here contrasting the peaceful nature of the people of Pandora with the militant, capital-driven humans. And as Christians, I wonder about lines like no one can serve God and money or what good is it to gain the world but lose one’s soul?
Seizures and Religious Experience
Kiri, the daughter of Dr. Grace Augustine’s Avatar, is imbued with unknown power and skills. She seems to commune with many aspects of Pandor’as natural world in ways no one else does–or even notices at times. Late in the film, she is able to bond with anemone-like things in the coral reefs and cause them to fight against a human incursion. Fish gather around her. Glowing sea creatures do her bidding even without a direct bond.
But in the midst of all this, she makes a bond with Eywa which leads to seizure-like symptoms no one else experiences. The human scientists are brought in to assess and help, but they are ultimately powerless to awaken the comatose Kiri. However, they do discern it was a seizure that caused her state and warn Jake that Kiri must not bond with Eywa in that fashion again, because she could have another seizure underwater and die. They also directly link seizures to the part of the brain that is active in religious experiences. I have an interest in religious experience and neuroscience, but certainly no expertise in it. With that caveat, I found this an extremely interesting and specific point for Cameron to raise in the film. As viewers, we have privileged access to Kiri that the scientists did not, and we also know there’s more going on than what seems a physicalist explanation. While it is true that activating certain parts of the brain can yield religious-like ecstasy and experience, that in itself does not demonstrate that no genuine religious experiences happen. Indeed, the later parts of the film with Kiri genuinely interacting with the world in seemingly unexplainable ways seems to show Cameron agrees here, and that something more will loom larger later. For now, though, we’re left not knowing where it’s going.
One last note on this, though. In the first film, we had the groundwork laid to see a kind of unity of science and religion. The “direct line to Eywa” of the tree, detected by scientific means in the roots and throughout Pandora and the clear way there is some kind of unifying intelligence on Pandora shows more is going on here. Is Eywa going to be depicted as deity? Or will there be some kind of unifying theory presented in the future? In our world, some try to unify science and religion quite a bit. There are many views about how to and even whether to do this (see my post on differing positions here). We know that God works in the world, but whether science can or even should detect that work is an open question.
The Way of Water and Eywa
The Way of Water itself is a central theme of the film, and certainly one of the driving aspects of its worldview.
“The way of water has no beginning, and no end.
“The sea is your home before your birth and after your death.
“The sea gives and the sea takes.
“Water connects all things. Life to death. Darkness to light.”
The way of water certainly seems connected to the previous film’s depictions of Eywa, the balance of all life, and the harmony and disharmony. It’s easy to contrast this with traditional Christianity, but parallels may also be found. Interestingly, the contrast can mostly be found with platonic views of the human soul, which hold that human souls are imbued with objective eternality after creation. In some Christian beliefs, all humans are eternal by virtue of creation, not by virtue of God granting immortality. The debate over this would go beyond what I’m trying to discuss here, but it’s interesting to see the parallels with eternality of the soul here. However, as depicted in both this film and the previous one, there’s not a sense of reincarnation or eternality of necessity here. The Way of Water, instead, is a kind of way of being, living in harmony with nature rather than attempting to dominate it. It’s acknowledgement that we all share commonalities. And that, I believe, is something Christians can embrace–the knowledge that we all, as God’s creation, share in the broader creation God has made. Thus, when we harm creation, we harm God’s good order and work against what God brought forth.
Interestingly, the humans who are hunting the tulkun are seeking immortality. A substance from the brain of the tulkun stops aging for humans, thus granting a kind of immortality that is seen as valued above all else. The disordered seeking of self-immortality is one aspect of humanity the film highlights very well.
Eywa is in the background throughout the movie, and I still wonder where James Cameron is going to go with this plotline. Above, I mentioned some more specific aspects of the religious and scientific aspects of the film. But we don’t learn much regarding where Cameron is taking this specific aspect of the plot beyond that. It will be interesting to see in the next several films what happens.
Conclusion
There is much more that could be discussed about “Avatar: The Way of Water.” I found it a deeply provocative film, reflecting the best science fiction which both enthralls with mesmerizing visuals and asks big questions about humanity. It feels to me like a kind of “Empire Strikes Back” middle movie, in which the “bad guys” have much more power than the “good guys,” and we’re left with a somewhat ambiguous ending. I cannot wait for the next one.
I’d love to read your own thoughts on the movie. Let me know what you think in the comments.
Links
“Avatar” – A Christian reflection on the film– 7 years ago I wrote about worldview level issues in the original movie. Note that some of my views may have changed.
Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!
Caring for Creation: A discussion among evangelicals– I write about creation care from a number of perspectives offered at a recent panel of prominent evangelical thinkers in this area.
Also see my other looks into movies (scroll down for more).
SDG.
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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
Paul D. Miller’s The Religion of American Greatness is a conservative pushback against Christian Nationalism. Miller is a professor at Georgetown, was on staff for the National Security Council, served in the Army, and has background in a number of related topics. He’s written for The Gospel Coalition, The Washington Post, and others.
Miller’s perspective is valuable because he’s a sympathetic reader. He clearly understands and has read the material related to Christian nationalism, but as a conservative he doesn’t just remain unconvinced, but rather clearly believes that Christian nationalism is fatally flawed on a number of levels.
Chapters in the book explore cases for and against Christian nationalism, look into the Bible and nationalism, and even explore more current events like the Trump phenomenon. Miller’s views on things like identity politics reflect his more conservative starting point, which may make him more sympathetic to readers already starting on the right end of the political spectrum. Yet even for readers of a more liberal bent, this book serves up a number of excellent analyses and insights into Christian nationalism that will provide them with discussion points that may resonate with those with whom they disagree.
There are numerous excellent insights found throughout the book. For example, Miller notes repeatedly that one issue with nationalism is that it tends to define nation states by shared cultural heritage, but this does not reflect the actual composition of nations that exist. That means that Christian nationalism must either advocate for a kind of voluntary or force dividing of people along preconceived cultural lineages or modify its proposals related to nationalism (see, for example, page 33ff). Some readers may wish Miller would drill down into that argument further–after all, the Christian nationalist definition of nations seems to almost demand a kind of ethnocentric division of humanity and, combining that with its belief that Christian culture would be some kind of inherent feature of some nations, would inevitably yield ethnic hierarchy–but Miller’s argument is more focused than that, and, as noted above, is directed in such a way as to convince some who might not listen to those arguments from implication. Miller does, however, note many of the difficulties inherent in such definitions, such as the existence of people who cannot be placed neatly within any of the broad cultural categories nationalists use. Of course, on this latter point, one again may wish for some kind of note that nationalists then almost have to be forced to a kind of kin-ism, in which only people from certain ethno-cultural groups should interact or, at the least, have children together. But what Miller does is place the arguments of nationalists on the table, where the implications can be drawn out. He nails them down with words from their own writings, and notes the problems even from within their own perspectives. Miller’s analysis thus avoids the head on [and, in my opinion, accurate] accusations of racism and related problems that may drive off some readers while still showing the implications are there.
Another excellent section is Miller’s chapter on the Bible and nationalism. Here, for example, he analyzes the claims of nationalists related to the nation of Israel, often seen as a kind of model for what Christian nationalism ought to be. The Bible itself vitiates against Christian nationalism, for it undercuts the very definitions nationalists attempt to use in order to construct their perspectives. Israel, the Bible teaches us, was a mixed multitude from the time it emerged from Egypt (121). This directly contradicts nationalist tendencies to demand shared cultural background for the formation of nation states and identity. Going on, Israel intermingled languages (Hebrew and Aramaic, among others), mixed familial bonds, and more. The thing that set it apart was merely its relationship to its God; not any kind of shared cultural background (121-122). Insights like this can be found throughout the chapter, and, indeed, the book.
The Religion of American Greatness is a needed response to Nationalism from a background that at least some people within that movement will listen to. It’s the kind of book well-worth reading for people of any background, and certainly could be recommended or bought and given to people who are interested in the topic. I recommend those interested in the topic have a copy on their shelf for reference or lending whenever possible.
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Be sure to check out the page for this site on Facebook and Twitter for discussion of posts, links to other pages of interest, random talk about theology/philosophy/apologetics/movies and more!
Book Reviews– There are plenty more book reviews to read! Read like crazy! (Scroll down for more, and click at bottom for even more!)
SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from quotations, which are the property of their respective owners, and works of art as credited; images are often freely available to the public and J.W. Wartick makes no claims of owning rights to the images unless he makes that explicit) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
I am writing a series of posts about the problems I see in apologetics related to the Shroud of Turin. Check out my introductory post here.
Tracing the Shroud in History
A number of claims are made about the Shroud historically and the alleged trail that can be pieced together in order to get it from Turin back to Palestine. Most apologists I’ve read or watched in videos are careful to say that we know with a fairly high degree of certainty where the Shroud was in the 14th century, but before that it becomes murkier. That doesn’t stop many apologists from then turning to making extremely specific claims about the Shroud in history. Here, I’ll be starting an examination of “The Shroud of Turin: Photograph of the Resurrection,” a video from Duran Smith, an apologist with Ratio Christi, an apologetics organization.
Even referring to a “murky history of the Shroud” prior to the 14th century begs the question in a way, by assuming the Shroud did exist and so would have had a history at all prior to the 14th century. I wrote in my introductory post that I’m not convinced by the evidence for the Shroud. In fact, I think the apologetics related to the Shroud of Turin generally show many of the issues I have identified with apologetics more broadly.
Duran Smith, in this video, goes over a wide swathe of arguments about the Shroud of Turin. Here, I’ll be focusing only on how he traces the Shroud in the earliest periods of its supposed existence.
The Discipline of the Secret?
Smith alleges that the Discipline of the Secret is something that can be applied to discussions of the Shroud. In the video at 8:24, you can see a slide in which he writes about the Discipline of the Secret: “It was used until the 5th century.” Intentionally or not, this slide and the discussion surrounding it make it seem as though the Discipline of the Secret is both an established fact of history with a specific lineage and that it persisted in Christianity from the beginning “until the 5th century.” Neither of these are true as stated that way. The Discipline of the Secret is, like many assignations from historians, a categorization of something they observed in the past, rather than a specific Discipline. Hopping again over to Wikipedia, one can trace the historical origins of the phrase and that it was a categorization invented in the 17th century to describe something happening in the 4th and 5th centuries, but not before. So it is technically true that the practice was “used until the 5th century,” but not true that it was persistent throughout Christianity until then, and certainly doesn’t appear to be some kind of strict practice as Smith makes it out to be.
I belabored the above point because it is important to see that it is easy to throw out terms, phrases, and dates and start piecing a case together based upon them. The untrained eye may find it very easy to go along with this. However, on examination, it makes the case pretty thin to have it based on a 17th century categorization of something that was 4th-5th century, especially when it’s applied in this way. Smith specifically says that the Christians after Jesus’s resurrection “had to keep a lot of things hidden,” which strongly implies he is saying that this was a 1st century discipline. “There were things that they couldn’t… write down,” Smith says (about 8:35).
Smith actually goes on to make a number of claims about the Discipline of the Secret. Starting around 8:50 into the video, he claims: “the Apostles and the disciples spoke in a secret code… it was called The Discipline of the Secret. That’s [a/the] name given to it by some of the early church fathers. It was a code language that the early Christians used to protect themselves [from] being found out by the oppressive government. And it was used until the 5th century.” He goes on to imply this may be why we don’t have exacting evidence of the Shroud’s existence in this early period. The problem is that each of these claims, so far as any research I can do, appears to be false. There is no church father that talks about the “Discipline of the Secret,” falsifying the claim that that name was “given to it by some of the early church fathers.” Web searches turn up many, many sites talking about the discipline, but even in the corners of Catholic Encyclopedias, one finds time and again that they say that term did not originate until the 17th century or so, and the practice itself may have had earliest origins with Tertullian (3rd century) but didn’t solidify until the time of Basil (early 4th century) or Gregory of Nazianzus (mid-late 4th century). Not one of these church fathers used the phrase “Discipline of the Secret.” Where Smith found a source for his claim is unclear, and I understand YouTube is not an easy place for citations, nor are lectures like this, but I am curious as to exactly what source Smith is basing this claim upon. There doesn’t appear to be a foundation for it anywhere.
The claims about this Discipline continue, as Smith says a lot of research goes into decoding this secretive language and says that “this is where the fish comes from” referring to the symbol of a fish as a symbol early Christians used. Once again, there is no source cited or concrete evidence to suggest that this is in any way connected to an actual discipline that any church father referenced or named anywhere.
Note that I have not used the word “lying” here in regards to what Smith is saying about the Discipline of the Secret. I don’t know Smith’s intentions or mindset and believe one should always assume others are sincere unless you have direct counter-evidence. Instead, what I’m observing is that Smith is making a number of explicit claims about the origins of the Shroud and this “Discipline,” none of which appear to be backed by reliable historical data. So where did it come from? It is possible Smith made it up, but in my own experience in academic apologetics as well as apologetics circles online, it seems more likely that Smith has fallen victim to what I’ve seen as a kind of group re-affirmation process in which a claim is made and then others pile on more supposed evidences to back up that claim, whether through anecdotes or other experiences, which are then taken to be true and real evidences, which then back up the claim, until an kind of circle of evidence is made such that the original claim seems unassailable. I could see someone reading about the Discipline of the Secret, and then having a kind of enthusiastic discussion about that related to the Shroud and how it could explain why there aren’t explicit writings about the Shroud or evidence referring explicitly to it prior to the 14th century. How you get from that to making an explicit claim that the church fathers explicitly gave the practice the name is conjecture on my end, but I could see it being inferred and then taken as true at some step along the way.
However it happened, Smith’s discussion of the Discipline of the Secret shows some gaps in understanding, along with several claims that, upon examination, cannot hold weight.
The Lost Gospel of the Hebrews?
Smith then turns to an allegedly lost Gospel of the Hebrews. Again, digging around online turns up that this lost Gospel may in fact be three separate Gospels, that it may have had its origin in the Gospels in the Bible today, and a number of other tidbits. There’s not a lot there, just some fragmentary quotes, including one from Origen (a favorite of mine) that hedges bets a bit when he writes “And if any accept the Gospel according to the Hebrews” before citing a fragment in his On John. Anyway, all of this is to say we don’t have much by way of established fact here, either.
After noting that the Gospel is lost and we don’t have it at all, Smith claims that “We use it to kind of get insight into what those early Christians were thinking… It’s used for some theological purposes, but it also has some historical details…” [around 10:20 and following]. Then he quotes it, “and when the Lord had given the linen cloth to the servant of the priest, He went to James and appeared to him.” I was able to confirm this is a quote from Jerome attributed to the Gospel of the Hebrews. Smith then states that the “servant of the priest probably refers to Peter, who was traditionally known as the Priest.” Going on, he says “it’s very likely that, according to the Discipline of the Secret, that the Gospel of the Hebrews is indicating that Jesus gave the linen cloth to Peter.” Going on, Smith notes that Peter is the head of the church, and the rock upon which the church is founded, and that it would then make sense that Peter would have this “very important relic” (the Shroud). Peter then spent quite a bit of time in Antioch.
There are problems with many of the claims made in this section. First, Peter wasn’t traditionally known as “the Priest.” He was known as the Rock. I don’t have comprehensive knowledge of or access to early church writings, but I struggle to find any reference to any tradition in which Peter is known as “the Priest.” Some believe he was known to the High Priest. Several Roman Catholic claims about Peter being the first Pope would then make him a priest, but having him referred to as “the Priest” is different from that claim. Again, I found no referent anywhere in searches online or through books on church history. I’m willing to be corrected here, of course, but it seems to me that if a claim can offhandedly be made that Peter “was traditionally known as the Priest” then that tradition should be fairly easily associated with Peter, and it is not. But suppose Smith is right, suppose Peter was known as “the Priest.” The passage he cites says that the “linen cloth” was given to “the servant of the priest.” So the passage would in fact be saying that the linen cloth was given to Peter’s servant, not to Peter himself. Of course, one might surmise that that would then mean that the linen made its way to Peter, but that is another step of transmission that Smith needs to establish. He also needs to establish that the linen cloth is, in fact, the Shroud.
Second, given the problems with Smith’s interpretation of the Discipline of the Secret noted above, it is highly problematical for him to deduce anything from that analysis. But he explicitly states that it is “according to the Discipline of the Secret” that the citation from the Gospel of the Hebrews is telling readers that the linen cloth is given to Peter. Note the shift here. It’s subtle, but it happens. In just a few minutes in the video, Smith has moved from saying that there is such a thing as a Discipline of the Secret in which Christians secretly communicated with each other to making that very Discipline the actor in interpreting passages from a fragmentary text available only through quotations from others. It isn’t that it is possible that there is a secretive explanation of a passage; no, Smith states that it is “according to” that secretive discipline that we may then infer that the passage is referring to the Shroud. In no small amount of time, and without argument, the Discipline of the Secret has moved to a broad way to explain that Christians spoke secretively to a means by which we may infer truths. I really can’t belabor this point enough because it’s a major shift. It is according to the Discipline, which is by no means established by a discipline and which did not exist even according to sources writing about it in this time period, that we may then conclude that a fragmentary passage from a book that is not extant to this day is explicitly referring to none other than the Shroud of Turin. This is such a massive leap, but is made without even an argument.
The shift from “there’s a secretive discipline in the early church” to “we may infer from that secretive discipline conclusions about what they were saying in specific texts” is huge. Again, careful examination of Smith’s arguments make it clear they come up quite short when it comes to whether they can actually support the conclusions he’s drawing.
Conclusion
Duran Smith has demonstrated here a number of problems I find in apologetics more generally. He makes claims that are unsupported by evidence, other claims are, upon closer examination, false. He shifts from argument to evidence without enough evidential support to make the conclusions he does. It also seems that he’s not as fully versed in the claims he’s making as someone giving a lecture on a topic ought to be. Whether it’s the claims about what Peter is traditionally called or about the actual dates and extent of the Discipline of the Secret, there are a number of errors that a bit more research could have prevented. But these errors are integral to the case Smith has made so far. If they are indeed errors, most of his case to this point falls apart. We’ll be examining more of the historical evidence Smith claims exists for the Shroud in the next post in this series.
Links
What’s Wrong with Apologetics? – I raise a number of pitfalls apologists ought to avoid.
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SDG.
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