Christianity

Methodological Naturalism: A Practice in Self-Affirmation?

I recently read a fantastic article in the latest Philosophia Christi by Stephen C. Dilley entitled “Philosophical Naturalism and Methodological Naturalism: Strange Bedfellows?” and I just had to share its central thesis here.

Dilley argues that “philosophical naturalists who draw epistemic support from science for their worldview ought to set aside methodological naturalism in certain historical science” (118).

Methodological Naturalism (MN) is generally the position that within science, one should never appeal to a supernatural explanation. Philosophical Naturalism (PN) is broadly defined as the belief that the world consits only of the natural, that is, that there are no supernatural entities (and thus theism is false). Here, of course, astute readers will almost instantly notice the problem with utilizing such a position to try to gain epistemic support for PN. The problem is, as Dilley points out, that using MN to epistemically justify PN is circular.

Let us examine this problem more fully. One consequence of MN is that “God hypotheses… cannot receive evidential confirmation within the context of science” (127). Of course, this doesn’t mean that “…God hypotheses do not receive scientific confirmation… but that they cannot… No possible emphasis can confirm God hypotheses within a scientific context, no matter what the evidence actually is. That is just what MN entails” (127, emphasis his).

Again, readers will probably already see where this is going. The problem of circularity here rears its ugly head. On the one hand, hypotheses which would disconfirm PN are ruled out a priori from scientific investigation. On the other hand, adherents of PN seem to want to utilize scientific evidence to confirm PN and disconfirm rival hypotheses. But then, while MN is in effect, PN cannot be criticized scientifically (129). This is because the central thrust of MN is to rule out supernatural hypotheses, which, in turn, rules out any kind of rival position for PN. Again, this doesn’t even appeal to any kind of scientific evidence for God or lack thereof, because such evidence isn’t even considered, a priori.

And then, following from this, PN will always receive confirmation from MN, because it cannot be otherwise. This is because MN rules out any rival hypotheses by definition. Again, it doesn’t even matter if naturalistic explanations would be superior to theistic explanations, because, given MN, there cannot even be a side-by-side comparison!

Thus, those who wish to utilize MN as some way to draw epistemic support for PN are sadly misguided. It simply cannot be done, because MN can’t even consider rival hypotheses. Instead, the joint usage of PN and MN show just another reason that naturalism is a practice in self-affirmation. Obviously, naturalism is going to appear superior to theism if we rule out theism before we even begin to investigate! Clearly, those who wish to justify PN cannot utilize MN to do so.

Source:

Dilley, Stephen C, “Philosophical Naturalism and Methodological Naturalism: Strange Bedfellows?” Philosophia Christi, 12-1, 2010, p. 118-141.

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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.

The Life Dialogue: Matt Moss Guest Post Part 3

This is part 3 of a series of guest posts by Matt Moss on the Genesis Creation account. Check out the first post here, and the second here.

Thesis 5– Genesis 1 – 2 describes the whole of creation as God’s (pre-fall) Temple.

When examining the seven days of creation we see several factors that indicate something cultic (meaning religious) taking shape. The first three days show a forming of the earth which (in v. 2) was “without form.” In the second set of three days you see a filling of the earth which (in v. 2) was “void.” Walton, in keeping with his functional model suggests a better translation of these words tohu and bohu (without form and void). Similar to bara’ he provides a survey of tohu’s use in the Bible (bohu occurs three times, always with tohu) and shows that the word “describes that which is non-functional, having no purpose and generally unproductive in human terms (48-9).” In light of this, the state of tohu and bohu means that the earth has a functional non-existence. Thus, when God begins His bara’ work, the functional bringing into existence of all that He does, Genesis 1 wants us to see what purpose everything serves.

Examining the functions in Genesis 1 we will find many parallels to the religious life of ancient Israel as studied in Exodus, Leviticus, and the rest of the OT. I’d like to turn now to days 4 – 7 of the Genesis 1 account (1:14 – 2:3) to examine the indicators that the Genesis 1 cosmology is a temple cosmology.

Genesis 1:14-19 (ESV) – “And God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night. And let them be for signs and for seasons, and for days and years, 15 and let them be lights in the expanse of the heavens to give light upon the earth.” And it was so. 16 And God made the two great lights—the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night—and the stars. 17 And God set them in the expanse of the heavens to give light on the earth, 18 to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good. 19 And there was evening and there was morning, the fourth day.”

So let’s look at what functions these lights in the sky are given:

1) to separate the day from the night

2) to be for signs and for seasons (moed) and years

3) to give light upon the earth

4) to rule the day & night

5) to separate the light from the darkness

Now you may be asking yourself, “I don’t see anything here that is particularly temple focused. First I would like to point out that in a society where watches & clocks are not present, the Sun, Moon, and stars are what tell you when it is time to worship (they did so much more often than once a week). Second, we can see throughout the OT that specific days of specific months are given festivals and holidays. These were mapped out by using these very lights, after all that is their given purpose in point two, “to be for signs and for moediym and years.”

The word moed occurs 223 times in the OT, so we have a large cross section of uses to help us nail down the possible meanings and the intended meaning within this context. The basic lexical entry is “appointed time.” However it is important to note that in Exodus 23:15, God says, “You shall keep the Feast of Unleavened Bread. As I commanded you, you shall eat unleavened bread for seven days at the moed in the month of Abib, for in it you came out of Egypt.” At the very beginning of the cultic/religious life of Israel upon exiting Egypt this word is tied to their religious festivals! Throughout Exodus, Leviticus, & Numbers moed is unanimously used in the phrase “tent of meeting (moed)” for the tent in the centre of the Tabernacle (the travelling version of the Temple before Solomon builds the first Temple). Now, beyond this there are countless uses of moed as “appointed time” in the worship life of Israel. I would thus maintain that Genesis 1 claims the functional purpose of the Sun, Moon, and stars is to indicate the daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly worship schedules of God’s people. In other words, when the ancient Israelite children asked their parents, “why is that moon shining in the sky?” the parents would answer in accord with Psalm 104:19 and say, “God made the moon to remind us when to observe the Feast of Passover and the other feasts/festivals.”

There is one more minor indicator that I would like to bring up when discussing the functional creation of Light. When we examine Genesis 1 as a Temple cosmology we realize just why something seemingly inconsequential like the Golden Lampstand (Ex. 25:31ff) is present in the Temple. Not only does it serve to light the room, but it is absolutely necessary to have this light in the Temple because this Temple reflects the Cosmic Temple corrupted in the Fall. If the Cosmic Temple has Light (Gen 1:3-5, 14-19) so must the Tabernacle/Temple have that Light (Ex. 25:31-40; 2 Chron 4:7).

Genesis 1:20-23- “And God said, “Let the waters swarm with swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the heavens.” 21 So God created the great sea creatures and every living creature that moves, with which the waters swarm, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. 22 And God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” 23 And there was evening and there was morning, the fifth day.”

Granted, there is not much here that we would directly relate to the Temple if we did not first see that days 4-6 are paralleling days 1-3. Now, when we look back to verses 6-8 and read it in the light of other ancient Near Eastern cosmologies we see that on days two and four more than any other we find the physical shape of a temple. The Lutheran Study Bible footnote on these verses is very helpful in pointing out the structural/functional aspect of how the “expanse” works and the image it evokes. “The point of the image is the function rather than the substance: the sky serves as a divider. The Israelites often used figurative terms to describe the cosmos as it appeared to them (cf. Is 40:22, where the sky is described as a “curtain” and a “tent”).”

[Further expansion of thesis 5 coming later this week]

The Impossibility of a Neutral Worldview

There is no such thing as a “neutral worldview.”

It is often proposed that some worldview is “basic”, in the sense of being “the worldview from which all others should be judged.” This proposition is wholly false. Within any worldview (which will be interchangeably referred to as a “noetic structure”), certain premises are taken in some sort of presupposed form. For example, within Christianity, the existence of God, on that worldview, is a presupposition. This isn’t to say that one can’t argue for the presuppositions within one’s worldview. One can certainly argue for the validity of one’s presuppositions, but this in itself doesn’t change the fact that every worldview is built upon some background.

I have seen it claimed that atheism does not or cannot constitute a worldview. This is also false. Any human being has his or her own noetic structure from which he or she judges the probability of propositions. Various atheists are not immune from having noetic structures or beliefs.

As Stephen Parrish writes, in God and Necessity, “…there are differences in the way people judge the probability or plausibility about the truth of certain propositions, and these judgments are made on the basis of the noetic and probability structures which are believed in” (147). It is simply not possible to divorce oneself from one’s presuppositions.

Thus, it is impossible to declare some worldview “neutral” and determine that from this worldview, all others should be judged. I would call this the height of self-edification. Christians, Buddhists, atheists, agnostics, etc. all have certain presuppositions within their worldviews which will make the propositions of other worldviews more or less likely. One cannot retreat to, say, agnosticism and argue that one will then judge everything from that “neutral” worldview, for everyone is going to maintain some kind of noetic structure which will, in turn, define what propositions are to be believed–or even considered.

Further, it’s not as if retreating from belief in all gods or affirming that there is no god–that is, atheism in its varied forms–will allow one to stand on “neutral” grounds in order to judge worldviews. Instead, the presuppositions within an atheistic worldview will serve to confirm that noetic structure. Again, as Parrish writes, “[r]ealistically, for many thinkers, no amount of evidence would ever be enough to justify a belief in God or miracles” (157). This, of course, is due to the noetic structures which are presupposed.

Further, writes Parrish,

“Every person capable of considering or having an opinion on issues brings with them a specific noetic structure or world-view accompanied by a corresponding probability structure. If a person did not bring this component to the debate he would be unable to formulate an opinion, as he would have no way of judging probability. So before considering the evidence on a particular issue, there must already be in place a noetic and probability structure. Probability  is inherent in one’s world-view and thus is used in judging the evidence” (158).

The same, of course, applies to Christians or believers in various faiths. Their own presuppositions guide their thinking and discernment of probability structures. Again, there is no neutral worldview.

Cornelius Van Til, one of the great apologists of the last century, was well known for his own views on how presuppositions affect judgment of worldviews. He wrote, “In spite of th[e] claim to neutrality on the part of the non-Christian, the… apologist must point out that every method, the supposedly neutral one no less than any other, presupposes either the truth or the falsity of Christian theism” (Christian Apologetics, 129). Furthermore, Van Til goes on to make the point that in some sense, then, all reasoning is circular,

“To admit one’s own presuppositions and to point out the presuppositions of others is therefore to maintain that all reasoning is, in the nature of the case, circular reasoning. The starting point, the method, and the conclusion are always involved in one another” (130).

This is not to say that we should be relativists when it comes to worldviews. There are ways (logical reasoning, scientific exploration, philosophy, etc.) to explore the validity of the claims of worldviews, and thus serve to confirm or disconfirm various presuppositions found within these noetic structures. The point, rather, is twofold:

1) It is question begging to assume that one’s own worldview is “neutral” or basic, and that all other worldviews should be judged from within this structure

2) We should be modest when comparing our worldview to that of others’, realizing that our presuppositions cannot be the basis for rejecting the claims of competing noetic structures.

Sources:

Parrish, Stephen. God and Necessity. University Press of America. 2001.

Van Til, Cornelius. Christian Apologetics. P & R Publishing. 2003.

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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.

The Life Dialogue: Matt Moss Guest Post Part 2

This post is the second guest post in my series on the “Life Dialogue” within Christianity. See Part 1 here. See other posts in the series here.

PART 2

Thesis 4– Genesis 1 does not address the specific method that God used in material creation, therefore (given T1-3) no specific answer to the questions of how or when is necessary to salvation.

Walton makes an important distinction between material creation and functional creation. Material creation is what modern debates obsess over. How did the material (the animals and people) get here: did they evolve or were they created or both? When did they come about? A quick reading of Genesis 1:1 – 2:3 shows that good, solid answers to these questions are not given. “In the beginning” is hardly a round number. Even those who attempt to date the earth using the various genealogies of the Bible prove their ignorance of ancient Near Eastern family lists which often “telescope” or skip generations of individuals and focus on the most notable. In other words, no one should think that the genealogy from Adam to Abraham is intended to tell us exactly how old the earth is. That was not the purpose of the genealogy and that is not what the genre allows a modern reader to do either.

Now, as for the “how material was created.” Walton argues very convincingly that Genesis 1 remains silent on this. With our modern biases we immediately object, “how can that be!? It says plainly, ‘and God said let there be light.’” Walton backs up to Gen 1:1 and addresses the Hebrew word bara’ (to create). In our understanding we always attach an ex nihilo understanding onto this word. That alone shows how materially minded we are, we have a very material focused cosmology. Walton first demonstrates that all ancient Near Eastern cosmologies were ‘function’ oriented, not material oriented. This means that the neighbouring creation accounts are concerned with the gods assigning functions to what comes about. How and when was not the question they were asking.

Walton then shows a similar mindset in ancient Israel. Even the word bara’ is a functional word. Walton provides a survey (p. 42) that outlines every use of the verb in the Hebrew Bible. The first thing of note is that God is always the subject. The second thing of note is that it nearly always is used in a functional sense, where God is giving something a specific purpose or function. Let’s look back to that light example. Genesis 1 does not stop with, “And God said let there be light.” No, Genesis 1:3-5 says “‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. 4And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness. 5Godcalled the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. (italics mine)”

More than making light is taking place. God is assigning functions to the light and the darkness, he is naming them for their functions! This is seen even more specifically when God creates the Sun and Moon. “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night. And let them be for signs and for seasons (A more accurate translation is “festivals”- a temple word), and for days and years, 15and let them be lights in the expanse of the heavens to give light upon the earth. (underlining mine)” How and when is not important. Why are they present? That is the question God chose to answer for the people.

Walton does go through these days in detail and then gives brief critiques of the various models out there. The first thing worthy of note is that yom (Day) does mean day… not age. Walton would argue that this hardly seals the deal for Young Earthers since they are completely fixated on material models of creation. Walton seems to take the side that the seven days of Genesis 1 are the seven days in which God assigned all creation its specific function, indeed without function one might hardly say that they exist at all (he uses the analogy of a company- before it is certified it cannot be said to exist even if it has a building and equipment and workers). Thus, Walton, like Genesis 1, remains mute on the hows and whens of material origins before the days when God assigns the functions and Walton sticks with what Genesis 1 does give us, which is the next thesis [coming next week in part 3].

Rising Above the Dogma: A Call to Christian Fellowship

Dogmatics. Too often this word is seen as a “dirty” word. We don’t want to deal with stuffy theology books or learning about doctrine. It is my sincere belief that Christianity has unfortunately traveled two paths when dealing with Christian doctrines:

1) Christians simply don’t care about doctrine. They abandon systematic theology, and in turn abandon the soul of Christianity.

2) Christians emphasize soundness of doctrine with such zeal that they alienate and make enemies of fellow Christians. In doing so, they abandon Christ’s teaching.

I just finished reading the book Christ Among the Dragons by James Emery White, and I must say it should be required reading of all Christians. Among the wonderful points made by White throughout this work, I found the most important to be his discussion of our interactions with fellow Christians. Too often, I found myself literally in tears, either because I stood convicted by the words he wrote or because fellow Christians had wronged me in the ways he outlined. He writes concerning debates over doctrinal issues:

“Truth be told, we should have enough theological humility to admit that we may all be wrong. The greater issue is refusing to make our theological viewpoint the test of orthodoxy, the agenda for which we exist and the basis of our community… And our rhetoric isn’t helping. ” (126).

White later quotes two other theologians, John Stott and the Lutheran theologian Peter Meiderlin. Stott wrote:

“Perhaps our criterion for deciding which is which [that is, which doctrines are essential and which are matters of liberty]… should be as follows. Whenever equally biblical Christians, who are equally anxious to understand the teaching of Scripture and to submit to its authority, reach different conclusions, we should deduce that evidently Scripture is not crystal clear in this matter, and therefore we can afford to give one another liberty” (127-128).

Meiderlin said, “In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.”

These powerful calls to Christian unity too often fall on deaf ears from those who adhere to either of the views I described above. Those who believe doctrines are unimportant criticize those who attempt to stress the essentials. Those who emphasize doctrinal purity too often attack fellow Christians for matters which should be of liberty.

I hope and pray for a day in which we can move past such disturbances in the body of Christ. No longer will Christians feel “second class” because they are of a different denomination. No longer will Christians abandon the Creeds of the Catholic Church (meaning the whole Church at large, not just the Roman Catholics). No longer will Christians accuse their fellows of rejecting Scripture for having different views on matters of “liberty.” No longer will Christians abandon the message of Christ in favor of ethical teaching.

We Christians are a Body. We must stick together. Divided we fall, united we stand.

I’d like to add that when we deal with our fellow man, and particularly our fellow Christian, the most important thing we should remember is that our message is Christ, and our witness is our deed. I close with another quote from White in Christ Among the Dragons:

“When we condescendingly say that our position is simply the ‘gospel,’ as if it’s not really a debate worth having, then we are being arrogant. When we make our view the litmus test of orthodoxy, or even community, we are being neither gracious nor loving. When we say that our view alone upholds God’s sovereignty or that our perspective is the only one that cares about lost people, we are not being truthful. When we exhibit a haughty smirkiness, or we so state our position that we divide churches, student ministry groups or denominations, then we are sinning.” (126-127)

Source:

White, James Emery. Christ Among the Dragons. InterVarsity Press. 2010.

The Life Dialogue: Matt Moss Guest Post Part 1

This post is the first guest post in my series on the “Life Dialogue” within Christianity. See other posts in the series here.

This post was written by my dear friend, Matt Moss, who has just returned from studies in England. Here we go:

JW has asked me to write this guest post for a long time now and I have delayed and delayed due to school and general business. So now I begin what he has asked me to do: present an explanation of creation as it is presented in Genesis 1. One reason this post was delayed was because I came across a book by John Walton entitled “The Lost World of Genesis 1,” which tackled Genesis 1 in a similar way in which I had hoped to. I decided to study it before attempting to write my own piece. While I do not agree with every direction he takes, the work is insightful and challenging. In the end it served to be a very formative work in helping me develop what others (professors) were beginning to form in my mind. Namely, that the cosmology of Genesis 1 is not intended to address 21st century scientific debates on the origin of species and to make it address such debates is shoddy exegesis and an abuse of Scripture.

Precisely speaking, the cosmology of Genesis 1 is a Temple cosmology, a religious document that tells us so much more than how the material of this world came into existence. As this post will hopefully show, Genesis 1 goes beyond the pithy question of how and when everything came into being. Genesis 1 answers who brought it about and why! The when and the how are not answered which tells us two things. 1) The ancients might have been smart enough to realize that the important questions are ones of metaphysical importance: why are we here? And/or 2) God did not tie salvation to having a 100% perfect scientific cosmology and therefore did not deem it necessary to provide the ancients (or us) with a fail-safe scientific model for how and when He did what He did.

Given our ever-present desire to know all things, this will hardly be greeted with joyful ears, but hopefully by the end of this post you will see that there are much better discoveries in the Genesis 1 than what the scientific harmonizers try to glean from the text.

PART 1

Thesis 1: The Bible does not tell us everything we want to know.

I hope this one is self-explanatory, thus I will not waste any more space on it.

Thesis 2: The Bible tells us what it does so that we might believe in Jesus Christ as God’s Son and have life in His name.

For the Christians who read this blog entry, I sincerely hope that this too is unanimously affirmed and needs no more addressing. (Jn 20:30-31)

Thesis 3: Therefore, nothing on which the Bible is silent will negatively or positively affect your salvation.

The implication being- if the Bible is silent on the mechanics of the material creation (as we will explore below) then modern debates over young earth, old earth, design, and all other scientific cosmologies fall into a level of importance far below what the text actually seeks to tell us. Now, I am fully willing to acknowledge that many in the scientific field will take evolution and other aspects of theoretical cosmologies and use them to offer proofs that deny God’s existence. Thus, apologetics serves a valiant purpose in refuting this and affirming the truth that God is creator. However, this post’s main focus is on Genesis 1, which is the chief text wrestled over by all who place themselves under the large umbrella of “creationists.” If Genesis 1 is truly silent on the how and when of creation by God, then Young Earth Creationists should not use Genesis 1 to brow beat Old Earthers into accepting their 21st century model (and vice versa, et al). Let science do its job with integrity, clarity, and truth and let the Bible say what it says. Unduly harmonizing them does injustice to both. 100 years from now science may have developed a cosmology that is 180 degrees different than anything we have today. Think then of how much time would have been wasted force-fitting Genesis 1 into a 21st century cosmology. We would have nothing to show for it but a need to start all over and try and force Genesis 1 into a 22nd century cosmology. I think the better option is to (1) adopt as best we can an ancient Israelite cosmology while we read the text, (2) take out (exegete) what it is truly saying, and (3) learn the lessons that God communicated to His first audience which is what He still desires to tell us.

Part 2- Coming later this week.

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.

God and Logical Priority

Logical priority, broadly defined, is the way things are ontologically ordered. That is, to say that for two factors, x and y, x is logically prior to y if and only if x takes precedence over y. An example could be to use miracles and God (note this is just for the sake of example, I realize that some would argue miracles can exist without God, but I’m simply using it as an illustration). The existence of God is logically prior to miracles in the sense that if God does not exist, then miracles do not. In this case, God would be x, while miracles would be y. In order for y to be the case, x must also be the case, thus making x logically prior to y.

So what does this have to do with God? Very much, I would say. For one of the most common objections to the existence of God is that there is no (or not enough) scientific evidence to demonstrate God’s existence. I have addressed such objections before, but now I would like to take a completely different approach. That is, I believe that the existence of God is logically prior to the question of scientific evidence.

The reason I take the existence of God to be logically prior to scientific evidence is be cause logic is prior to science. Take the case of necessity, for example, and combine it with the case of scientific laws. Now, in science, a law is generally something like “if x occurs, then y will occur.” But it is not the case that such laws operate on a logically necessary level. For it is not the case that “Necessarily, If x occurs, then y will occur” (or, □(x⊃y) for those who enjoy ‘logic-ese’). It is simply the case that this is what happens in all observed cases. It could even (possibly, but not modally) be said that “If x occurs, then, necessarily y will occur” (again, logic-ese: x⊃□y), but this does not establish logical necessity in the modal and broader sense.

The type of necessity which can therefore be ascribed to scientific laws is a contingent or “accidental” necessity. They operate in a necessary sense in that in this world (out of all possible worlds) it is the case that if x then y, but they do not operate necessarily in the sense that in every possible worlds it is the case that “if x then y.”

Logical necessity, however, is prior to this. For, on logical necessity, that which is necessary is necessary in all possible worlds. Logical necessity is the very thing which scientific necessity lacks.

Again, we may ask, what does this have to do with God? Well, if it is the case that it can be demonstrated that God exists out of logical necessity, then the question of scientific evidence is irrelevant. For logical necessity is prior to scientific necessity. This is not to say that scientific evidence is not useful when exploring the “God question”, if you will, but it is to say that if it can be demonstrated that God is logically necessary, then demands for scientific evidence to demonstrate or even make probable the existence of God are misplaced. For if God is logically necessary, then to deny the existence of God is incoherent in the strong sense (that is, it is illogical). The logical demonstration would be prior to and therefore supersede the scientific evidence or lack thereof (I believe that there are at least some reasons scientifically to believe God exists, but that is off topic).

But then, we must ask, can it be demonstrated that God is logically necessary? Well yes, I believe so. I have argued this at length elsewhere, so I won’t reiterate it (see here). If any of these arguments are sound (as I believe they are), then the question of scientific evidence for God’s existence is simply a non-factor. Certainly, the scientific (and other) evidences may be seen  as providing further justification for believing that God exists, but if it is the case that the arguments for God’s logical necessity are sound, then such arguments are the only tools needed to defend the claim that God exists. Further, to dispute such a claim (that is, God’s existence) would be incoherent in the strongest possible sense.

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God and Moral Obligation, or Euthyphro, rethought

Euthyphro’s dilemma is so frequently discussed in philosophy that I don’t see a need to thoroughly present it. The horns, however, are going to be the topic of this post, so I’ll outline them below:

It seems that if God makes commands which create moral duties for humans (and others), then there may only be two options for the theist:

1) We ought to do what God commands because God commands it (and thus he could have commanded any random thing to be dutiful–i.e. torturing cute rabbits)

or

2) God commands us to do things because they are what we ought to do (and therefore there is some standard to which even God answers–see Richard Swinburne’s Revelation for an interesting description of a potential way around this problem)

If these are the only two options, it seems as though theists are in an uncomfortable position indeed! Normally, most theists would attack one of the horns of the dilemma or hit between the horns and find a way out. The late William Alston, however, ingeniously argues in Divine Nature and Human Language that the theist can accept both horns of the dilemma, albeit with some interpretation (DNHL 255).

The most important part of Alston’s solution is to assume that God is perfectly good essentially, that is, necessarily, God is perfectly good (257). In other words, God cannot perform a morally imperfect action. Alston makes no argument for this position, though I think that Stephen Parrish argues this rather well in God and Necessity. Regardless, I’m going to follow Alston’s assumption for the presentation of his argument, for now ignoring the potential problems with removing libertarian free will from God.

If it is the case that God is essentially perfectly good, then moral “oughtness” words such as “required”, “forbidden”, “duty”, etc. do not apply to God. This is because these terms “apply to a being only if that being has a choice between doing or failing to do what it ought to do” (257). But if God cannot fail to do good, then  His own nature “prevents him from acting freely in a way that is required for moral obligation… it is metaphysically impossible that God should do anything that is less than supremely good” (257). But then this means that horn 1 of the dilemma serves as no problem–God can not order things which would be arbitrarily evil, but it also means horn 2 is no problem either–God is not restricted by any “ought” statements.

Further, implicit in the dilemma is the idea that some form of Platonism is correct, that is, there are some objective morals as ideas somewhere. But again the theist can adapt this to theism and say that instead of some morals that just exist of necessity on their own (though again see Swinburne, Revelation for a defense of this very idea of theistic morality), God Himself is the “supreme standard of goodness. God plays the role in evaluation that is… assigned… to Platonic Ideas or principles” (268). Moral obligations are what we ought to do (horn 2 of the dilemma) because they are features of God (269).

Therefore, by accepting that God is essentially perfectly good, and further supposing that God Himself is the standard for goodness, the theist can accept the horns of the dilemma while arguing that they don’t really serve as objections to theism as classically supposed. God, having no “ought” statements apply to him, cannot be the subject of 2), while his very existence as essentially perfectly good means that 1) cannot apply to him either.

Sources:

Alston, William P. Divine Nature and Human Language. Cornell University Press. 1989.

Parrish, Stephen. God and Necessity. University Press of America. 2001.

Swinburne, Richard. Revelation. Oxford University Press. 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.