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Monday, May 20, 2013

In the day that you eat of it...

A quick note on a Genesis question I have had and that you might not even know you had. Genesis 2:17-18 reads:
And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”
You know the story: Adam and Eve do eat the fruit, and then...don't die that day? Does this mean God lied to them, and the serpent was only guilty of correcting His lie? I've heard (and used) a number of responses. Some commentators focus on His mercy in letting them live--but this basically says of the lie, "it's no big deal, God can lie as long as He's merciful about it". Others, eager to fit the narrative into the evangelical narrative of salvation by grace through faith, interpret it as meaning spiritual death as separation from fellowship with God--nevermind that this dimension of death is not clearly seen until the New Testament. (And that it seems very likely that Genesis was supposed to explain the phenomenon of physical death) But there is a better way.

The Hebrew word translating to "in the day" is yowm, the same word used to give the "days" of creation in Genesis 1, which takes a variety of other temporal meanings throughout the OT including by not limited to a general "age" or period of time. (e.g. the "day of the Lord", which is really a new era of history) Because no two languages correspond exactly in their lexicons, yowm, while most often translated "day", should not be assumed to always have the same meaning as our English word "day"; we need to allow for a more flexible definition to account for the translational ambiguity.

Of course, lest you think Hebrew is just a sloppy language, the relationship can go the other way; for instance, Greek has two main words for "time", chronos, meaning a more specific length of time or specific point of occurrence and kairos, meaning an age or season similar to yowm. Now imagine a fictional first-century Greek person somehow listening to "Turn! Turn! Turn!" by the Byrds (nevermind that it it itself based on Ecclesiastes translated from Hebrew), assuming every instance of "time" meant chronos, and doing an intensive study to determine what the exact times to be born, die, plant, reap, etc. the song is talking about are. This person would be missing the point.

Or, of course, Biblical Greek has two words for "love": agape, meaning selfless love in the pattern of God's love for us, and philos, meaning love between friends, both contrasted with eros, meaning romantic love. I think a lot of the modern evangelical confusion with overly emotional spirituality and "Jesus is my boyfriend" songs comes from the fact that these three drastically different concepts are translated to the same word in English. Suppose a Greek individual, reading an English translation of 1 Corinthians 13, insisted on reading "love" only as eros love.

So, in this understanding, Adam's eating the fruit can be seen as inaugurating a new era in history in which people die. While I no longer believe this is literally/historically true (see my posts on the Fall), I think it's exactly what the text is saying in context--no trickery or double speech on God's part.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Metatheology, Part III: A Theology of Diversity

Other questions:
What is truth?
What is the purpose of the Bible?

In this final part of the series, I ask the question that gave rise to the previous two:

How do we, as Christians, "do" theology lovingly and truthfully in the midst of significant theological disagreement?

Let me unpack what I mean by this question, which has been a burden weighing on my heart and my mind. Regardless of who is right, the simple fact is that God-loving Christians throughout the world and the ages, earnestly seeking to teach the truth and correctly understand scripture, have come to significantly differing theological conclusions on myriad subjects, and these differences have led to a great deal of the strife and division which has scarred this history of the church. This is the problem that Christian Smith in his book The Bible Made Impossible calls "pervasive interpretive pluralism". As Christians we affirm that God's will is for the church to be united in "mind and thought" (John 17:21, 1 Corinthians 1:10), yet we are also told to guard our doctrine closely (1 Timothy 4:16) and rejoice in the truth (1 Corinthians 13:6).

It seems like seeking the truth and being united in Christ should be complementary goals, but nothing about the church is as it really should be. Today we see these goals more often working against each other as churches and denominations clash and divide over points of doctrine. One of the primary issues of the "Great Schism" that divided the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches was the "filioque" clause in the Nicene Creed and the issue of whether the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son or just the Father. More closely to my own background, the main driving force behind the increasing number of Protestant churches and denominations is doctrinal disputes causing previously whole groups to splinter over baptistic theology, the nature of the bread and wine Jesus said to take "in remembrance of me" (1 Corinthians 11:23-26), and more practical things informed by the Bible like church leadership and worship styles.

And these divisions are not merely institutional in nature. Even today I see Arminians denounced by Calvinists for being semi-Pelagian, baptismal regenerationists as legalists, questioners of the historicity of Adam and Eve as revisionists, and liberal Christians as postmodern, all because their views are considered to be false (along with their faith) according to the sound doctrine of the Bible. This book review espouses the pursuit of sound doctrine as essential for church unity and the antidote to divisions: "If bitterness, gossip, and slander are tearing your church apart, sound doctrine is one of the most necessary tools for sewing it back together. If rivalries and divisions are suffocating the church’s love, it needs to breathe anew the rich air of sound doctrine." Yet all too often, it is the quest for sound doctrine that is the source of these divisions. How can the desire to know and obey God's word be so damaging to the church? But how can we give it up as we are reminded that all scripture is God-breathed and useful for teaching (2 Timothy 3:16)?

The pat evangelical answer to doctrinal disputes is that sin blinds us from correctly discerning the plain and simple word of God (Psalm 19:7) and prevents us from loving our neighbor as we should, so such divisions are sad but unsurprising to the Christian. In other words, "sin" becomes a blanket excuse to just keep trying what we've been doing, because if and when we fail it's sin's fault. (With the implied hope that this time, with this theology book or doctrinal statement or blog post we'll finally get it right and everyone will agree and join us and there will be no more disunity) Well, is holding to a definition of "truth" that is primarily propositional rather than Christological (as I tried to show in the first post) and expects to find one exactly right answer a sin or isn't it?

Morgan Guyton points out this tendency much more skillfully than I can in a lengthy post, "Communion or Correctness? The Underlying Question". He debunks an idea of correctness held by Christians which he defines as "a way of thinking about behavior and opinions in which there is one right answer and the goal is absolute uniformity." In other words, believing that there is one correct way of thinking about God that we're supposed to uncover through the Bible just as there is one correct way to do math. (Though my one and a half years as a math major have lead me to question whether this is true either) With this definition, he somewhat conflates theological correctness and perfect moral performance, but it's still an amazing piece of writing. Some favorite quotes:
God’s holiness comes to mean His pickiness about our imperfection rather than God’s willingness to “cause his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and send rain on the righteous and the unrighteous” (Matthew 5:45). God’s righteousness becomes God’s demand for perfect correctness that is canceled out by the cross, rather than God’s willingness to bear our sins through His Son on the cross (Romans 3:25) and pay for our mistakes unilaterally in order to “reconcile the world to himself in Christ” (2 Corinthians 5:19). God’s justice becomes the damnation that we deserve and get rescued from rather than the moment for which those who are oppressed and cheated and slandered have longed (Revelation 6:10) all of their lives: when “everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:13) 
The task of the theologian under this orthodoxy [of perfect correctness] is to find the one correct way of interpreting the Bible and write an exhaustive systematic theology that dispels all the so-called “mystery” once and for all so that every Christian will be able to read their Bibles correctly and thus ensure that they have indeed accepted Christ into their hearts correctly so that God will accept their acceptable acceptance (which somehow isn’t justification by works even though people have to work very hard to convince themselves that they have the fruits of regeneration). 
I believe that a certain threshold of correctness is important for the sake of establishing communion between God’s people, but if correctness means chasing after an elusive goal of absolute ideological conformity, then it is a source of schism in the body of Christ and as such a heretical pursuit.
That last quote absolutely nails it. While obviously there are true things that God wants us to believe about Him, the more we try to pin down in fine detail what those things are, one of two things must happen. Our disagreements and even differences of opinion between us and our brothers and sisters may be magnified and blown up as implicit threats to the sacrosanct correctness of your own beliefs (and, by implication, the authenticity of your faith) until they tear us apart. Or some kind of a centralized authority must exert more and more influence to answer the disagreements and define what is "correct" to short-circuit this process, as in the Catholic and Orthodox church (and, arguably, certain more conservative parts of Protestantism with a clearly defined range of "orthodox" beliefs). And as Christ is the head of the church (Ephesians 5:23) and the Truth we are after in the first place (John 14:6), I don't think this is the solution.

Consider someone who has just become a Christian. Do we expect him to hold the "right" view on predestination, or baptismal theology, or atonement theories, or eschatology? Hopefully not. We're fine with Christians being ignorant of what we believe scripture teaches about certain things (though we have trouble defining exactly what those things are). This indicates that we're not so concerned with doctrinal correctness as we are with a lack of error (which, I would argue, is a mistaken idea of perfection to hold). This could indicate at least as much of a fear of bad doctrine as a desire for good doctrine at work.

As I said last time, one of the main ways we evaluate churches and individual as authentically Christian is whether they hold beliefs consistent with the "authority of scripture" to tell us how to believe and live. So we look for "Bible-believing" churches to attend or warn about X liberal theologian as "unbiblical" in his doctrine. But hear this: if we make doctrinal correctness our definition of authentic Christianity, then irreconcilable differences in doctrine inevitably lead to irreconcilable divisions--and if church history has taught us anything, it's that irreconcilable differences can happen, and have already happened.

Does this mean that the "true church" has been lost, the body of Christ broken into fragments, never to repair unless we can somehow merge all the denominations and factions back into one whole like the early church? No--because love, not doctrinal correctness is the definition of authentic Christianity, as Jesus says: "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." (John 13:35) If we know and are known by God through the atoning sacrifice of Christ love our neighbors, and especially our brothers and sisters of any denomination and creed, as Christ did, then we are part of the body of Christ, the church He started and that has continued unbroken to this day.

Of course this doesn't mean that theological disagreements should all just be ignored or that seeking to know Truth rationally doesn't matter. What I am saying is that correct doctrinal belief need not be, cannot be, the foundation for our religion or our churches. It must proceed from a deep and abiding love for God, the Truth; and for one another, not the other way round. For it is love, not orthodoxy, that is absolutely crucial for binding together human diversity into the unity God has called the church to have. I'll leave you with Paul's instructions to the Christians in Colossae, verses 3:1-17 (emphasis added):
If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.
Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. On account of these the wrath of God is coming. In these you too once walked, when you were living in them. But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all, and in all.
Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

The Meaning of Synergism and the Glory of God

The following is an abridged version of a response I made to a Redditor who accused my semi-Arminian theology of being semi-Pelagian, and asked whether the lessons I'd drawn from my struggle with doubt are really focused on the glory of God:

There is no tension but unity between God's grace and our "willful cooperation" in our salvation. The Bible indeed affirms that faith is a gift from God (Romans 12:3, Hebrews 12:2), as is repentance (Acts 5:31, 11:18, 2 Timothy 2:25), but referring to them in this way is only a piece of the picture it paints. Much more often faith (Matthew 8:10, Mark 4:40, Romans 9:30-32, 1 Corinthians 16:13, 2 Timothy 2:22) and repentance (Matthew 3:2, Matthew 21:32, Acts 2:38, Acts 8:22, Revelation 2:5) are presented as things are are responsible for, in such a way that it is very difficult to read them as having nothing to do with our own agency without seriously twisting the words of the passage. An especially strong example is Luke 7:50, where Jesus says to a prostitute, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace." No mention of God giving her this faith or even granting salvation because of the condition of faith, but "*your* faith has saved you." Was Jesus speaking to her in Romans-code, or did He literally mean what He said?

How can this be? How does God actively involving us in our having faith not amount to salvation by works? Because synergism does not mean God doing some of the work and leaving the rest to us, His junior partners-in-salvation. It means God working *in* us, through our will, our decisions, and our actions to accomplish His purposes. (Philippians 2:12-13) God's actions in us need not be discrete from our own; our believing His promises in faith is *how* He grants us faith and brings us to life. To assume otherwise is to incorporate the dualistic notion that God's *spiritual* work in us is wholly incompatible with our *mundane* thoughts and actions. Who is Christ if not a total union of the heavenly and the mundane?

The Greek word for "perfect", *teleios*, is based on the root *telos*, meaning end, goal, purpose, or plan, and is contrasted not with impurity or stain but with the state of being a part (1 Corinthians 13:10) or lacking something (James 1:4). It is essentially synonymous with "complete". The perfection for which we are saved and for which we strive is not a total cleansing from toxic works that taint and destroy the grace of God in us, but a completion of both our faith and the works that spring from it (James 2:22)--the image of God being completely and fully manifested in our flesh, in a reflection of Christ.

Neither is there any tension between God's ultimate goal/*telos* (His glory, 1 Corinthians 10:31, 2 Corinthians 4:15, Philippians 2:11, Revelation 21:23) and more immediate things that serve this end. How can salvation be about God glorifying Himself and *not* be about His loving me and me loving others likewise, when love is God's very essence (1 John 4:16) and we bear His image as we are completed in love?

You say, "But those are merely means to the end, not the end itself," which is compatible with this, and yet you call me out for appealing to 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 rather than directly to the glory of God. Do you mean that because God's glory is our ultimate end, we must then hold it consciously in mind as our motivation at all times? I disagree. It is entirely possible to glorify God without consciously thinking, "Here is how I am going to bring glory to God in this situation?" When I study God's word, or encourage a brother or sister, or play with my kids in Sunday School, I am not worried about whether I am glorifying God in this moment; my focus is in the moment, and like a child I trust my heavenly Father to work His goals as only He knows how to do through my simple expressions of faith. God's desire for us is for us to glorify Him not through our conscious pursuit of an abstract spiritual goal but in our very natures, by being the kind of "little Christs" He has made us to be.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Metatheology, Part II: Biography, not Textbook

Previously I explored the fundamental question, "What is truth?" and concluded that, rather mysteriously, God as most fully revealed in Jesus Christ is both the Word of God and the truth. I hope to keep working out more implications of these bare conclusions for years. For now, though, this provides a somewhat-stable base from which to consider the next question:

What is the purpose of the Bible?

Again, this is an utterly basic question for anyone wishing to "do" theology in a Christian context. The expectations we bring to a book will shape how we experience it. If we read an advanced algebra text expecting it to be a gripping page-turner, we will (most likely) be disappointed.  If we read Twilight hoping to learn something and have our perception of the world shaken, we will probably pick up some terribly shallow values. If we approach Moby Dick as a book on human hubris, or the tragedy of monomaniacal obsession, or high-seas adventure, or 19th-century whaling practices, we will come away from it with correspondingly different conclusions. As the book becomes less straightforward, the expectations we bring into it become more and more influential to the conclusions we draw from it. There is no better example of this than the Bible.

A popular view of the Bible in America, which Christian Smith's book The Bible Made Impossible critiques, is that the Bible is the straightforward, unique transmission from God to us made to instruct and guide us through life--a divine handbook for all of life's difficulties, questions, and uncertainties. Smith gives dozens of examples of slogans and mission statements that treat the Bible as a sort of instruction manual for life and "Biblical" guides to everything from stress management to gardening. Smith pretty well shows how silly and me-centered this view of the Bible is, so I won't deal with it further.

A more mature, but not unrelated purpose of the Bible with a much stronger theological grounding is that the Bible is the written Word of God given through human authors to teach Christians how and what to believe, especially concerning the salvation we have through the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Or, in a nutshell, the purpose of the Bible is to teach correct belief about and in God, or to set the standard of what Christians must believe; to disbelieve scripture is to disbelieve God. Just as we learn about math in a math textbook, in the Bible and the Bible alone we learn about who God is, how He reveals Himself to us, and what His will for us is. This article describes the Bible as settings the boundaries for belief and experience of God which faithful Christians must not cross; "the Scriptures are our final authority because the Scriptures are what God says."

For me, this looked like viewing the Bible as our only fully trustworthy source for a complete, coherent theology (view of God) and for the truth in which I, as a Christian, believed. My goal was to assemble all of the "raw data" of scripture into a structured, contradiction-free body of knowledge about God. The Bible as a source of true belief does not make reading it a purely inward or theoretical venture, because the Christian life is supposed to be founded on true belief in God. Since I will spend much more time on this view and it may not closely resemble your own belief on the purpose of the Bible, let me give some examples of how I see it.

A common way in which we discern whether people and churches are really "Christian" is if they believe the words of the Bible, and especially the main point of the Bible, also known as the "Gospel". We speak of submission to the "authority of scripture"; that is, authority as the Word of God to tell us how to believe and live. If someone does not submit to this authority and disbelieves or disputes the words of the Bible, no matter how "Christian" their life seems, we rest assured that their profession of faith is hollow and view them as "nonbelievers". If we hear a Christian teaching we consider to be false, we call it "unbiblical"--the Bible is our litmus test for discerning true belief from false. "For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart." (Hebrews 4:12)

Another common term in Protestantism is the terms "open-hand" and "closed-hand" to separate differences of doctrine that will be tolerated among the attendance of a church or between churches or denominations. Open-handed issues are those about which the Bible's teaching is sufficiently open that multiple views are allowed and considered equally biblical. Closed-hand issues are those which the Bible teaches unambiguously, and differences of doctrine about them are considered to be a rejection of the truth taught in scripture worth dividing over in order to protect the truth. (Of course, various denominations disagree on the answers to many of these issues or which issues are closed-hand) If someone deliberately disagrees with a closed-hand issue, they are thought of (if not branded) as unorthodox or a heretic and seen as not only wrong or misinformed, but dangerous because of their refusal to believe the Bible. Again, in this view the function of the Bible is to teach God's truth and inspire correct belief, and disagreement with what it teaches is treated as a rejection of what God has to say.

Or consider the whole discipline of systematic theology. In his well-known book of the same name, Wayne Grudem defines it as "any study that answers the question, 'What does the whole Bible teach us today?' on any given topic." Through systematic theology we can arrive at doctrine, which is "what the whole Bible teaches us today about some particular topic." He says "the emphasis of systematic theology is on what God wants us to believe and know" which is in a symbiotic relationship with more practical disciplines like Christian ethics where the emphasis is on attitudes and doing. So in this model, the Bible shows us what to value, what attitudes to take, and ultimately how to live by being correctly interpreted into sound belief through the lens of theology.

I don't like making totalizing statements, but I must here: I suspect that your own view of the purpose of the Bible comes down to something similar to this: that it is to inspire right belief (orthodoxy) in the person of God and the truth of the Gospel, which is the basis for the Christian life of faith. Don't be too quick to conclude that your take on the Bible is nothing like this. If it really does differ significantly, I'd love to hear what it is in a comment.

The Bible itself does not offer any kind of totalizing mission statement to hand us its purpose on a silver platter. So if you take nothing else from this post, please hear this: your belief about the purpose of the Bible is not a necessary truth read out of the Bible, but an (unavoidable) assumption taken into it, open to revision by the Bible itself, at least. The remainder of this post is to describe what this revision looks like for me.

Warning Signs

I would hope that all evangelicals at least feel a bit uneasy dividing with other professing Christians over doctrinal matters, but they have little trouble feeling justified in doing so because of the Biblical precedent for doing so. There are repeated calls to guard your doctrine (1 Timothy 4:16) against false teachings and beware of false teachers (Galatians 1:6-10, 1 Timothy 1:3-7, 6:3-10, 2 Timothy 3:1-9, Titus 3:9-11, 2 Peter 2, 1 John 2:18-27, 2 John 7-11, Jude 3-23), with specific instructions to:
  • "Let him be eternally condemned!" (Galatians 1:8,10) In other words, tell false teachers to go to Hell!
  • Command them not to teach false doctrines any longer (1 Timothy 1:3)
  • Avoid foolish controversies, genealogies, arguments and quarrels about the law (Titus 3:9); warn a divisive person twice and, if he doesn't listen, "have nothing to do with him". (v10)
  • No specific commands in 2 Peter 2, but i can almost picture him frothing at the mouth while delivering this rant against false teachers.
  • "See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you" (1 John 2:24)
  • "Watch out that you do not lose what you have worked for" (2 John 8); do not welcome anyone who does not profess the teaching of Christ or allow him into your house (v10)
  • "And have mercy on those who doubt; save others by snatching them out of the fire; to others show mercy with fear, hating even the garment stained by the flesh." (Jude 23-24)
These verses seem pretty stern about false teachers who make their way into the fellowship of the church and teach false doctrine, up to and including suspending the command of love toward them (which John talks about extensively in his first epistle) and telling them to go to Hell for the protection of doctrine. Shouldn't we be just as concerned for the truth of the Bible today?

Well, there is one small detail that should affect our understanding of these passages: there was no Bible to defend when these letters were written. Not the New Testament, at least. Early Christian churches would have been lucky to have a subset of the gospels and epistles by the end of the first century as they had just begun to be circulated and copied, and they weren't compiled into anything resembling a New Testament canon until hundreds of years later. What, then, was the basis of the doctrine Paul was so emphatic about guarding? Why were the Judaizers wrong to teach that early Christians had to obey the Mosaic law to be saved, when all the scripture available at the time (the Old Testament) supported their teaching? With no New Testament, what was the litmus test for deciding whom to throw out of the church as a false teacher? Heck, no New Testament books at all were written for two decades after Christ's resurrection; did the churches preach only from the Old Testament until then and ignore everything Jesus had said and done because it wasn't yet within the bounds of scripture?

A Different Kind of Knowledge

This reasoning led me to realize that the early church got along just fine (and is still used as an example today) despite having no New Testament canon. Which leads me to believe that the Bible can't be as central to Christian doctrine as it is made out to be. What I think served as the focal point of their doctrine was the thing that made the apostles unique: not the ability to write scripture (their letters wouldn't become scripture until later), but direct, revelatory knowledge (personal, not factual) of Jesus, which they were able to pass on. If, as I pontificated last time, Jesus really is the Word of God and the Truth (even if the churches didn't yet have the gospel of John to tell them so), this is so unsurprising as to be almost predictable--if anything about the "truth-trinity" as I'm going to call it is predictable.

But direct personal experience dies with the holders of its memory, which I think is why the New Testament had to be written to effectively crystallize the knowledge of the apostles and other early church leaders. Several posts ago, I hypothesized that "maybe the purpose of the Bible is to allow future generations of Christians to have that same experience of the cross on which all of history turns." This theory was incredibly compelling when I first arrived at it and I have become even more convinced of it since.

So, a bit more clearly, I would now say that the purpose of scripture is not primarily to tell Christians what to believe, but to allow them to encounter Christ. This is very similar to the "Christocentric hermeneutic" I was so skeptical about at first. I am not saying that the Bible has nothing to do with correct belief--only that it has a deeper and greater purpose: the knowledge of the Truth. This knowledge, not the scripture itself, is the center for our doctrine, just as it was for the first-century church.

Correct belief is an outworking of this knowledge, not the goal we actively pursue in studying scripture. The Bible-as-doctrine view mistakes a penultimate purpose of the Bible (orthodoxy) for the "whole show" (conformity to Christ's image). In his new book Prototype, Jonathan Martin of Renovatus Church asks, "What if the ultimate goal of everything Jesus said and did was not just to get us to believe certain things about Him, but to become like Him?" I would add that Jesus probably wanted us to do more than cling to His exact words (as we have received them), seek to live according to them as closely as possible, and refuse to venture beyond them, which was much more like what the Pharisees were doing with the Law and the Prophets and which was what ultimately blinded them to who He was. I think it's equally possible for an excessive focus on the scripture can blind us to Jesus showing up today.

I see this as a great relief. If the purpose of the Bible is to transmit correct belief, then in light of what Christian Smith calls "pervasive interpretive pluralism"--all the myriad conclusions God-loving Christians have come to from reading the same book with no goal other than to understand it--it has failed miserably. And indeed, if theological correctness were its purpose, God's method for giving it to us through human authors in a distant cultural context and countless of fallible scribes and translators over three thousand years makes no sense. Why not dictate it in every language necessary, Muhammad-style, or reveal it all through visions or divine skywriting? Why not give it all at once? The only source for our knowledge of God seems a bit too important to entrust to so many human hands (we're still not totally sure what the original Greek New Testament said)!

At the risk of becoming just as much a mouthpiece for John's theology as others are for Paul's, he explicitly confirms this purpose for his own gospel, at least: "But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name." (John 20:31) We must rule out the possibility that the purpose of God's word has failed because of pervasive interpretive pluralism; more on that next post. Belief in Jesus and life in His name--that's something that transcends denominational lines and doctrinal divisions!

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Metatheology, Part I: A Second Trinity

This year has been a huge one for the relationship between my intellect and my faith. Last Fall, through a process of increasingly deep and intense questioning I dismantled some wrong and harmful expectations I had of the Bible that had been eating at my faith. This Spring I've been picking up the pieces of my view of God and reassembling them into something new, a process that has coincided roughly coincided with the recent renaissance of this blog where I've been doing a post every two or three days, if not more often.

I consider these recent posts some of my best work ever (on a blog that's always learning and growing, the most recent work is always the best ever). These posts have been on some pretty important subjects to modern Christianity: the doctrine of the Fall, the relationship of science and scripture, the tension between Old and New Testaments, and Hell, among other things. But lately I've been kicking around some even bigger questions that are not just important outworkings of theology but are foundational to the very pursuit of theology. Seeing as how I'm about to begin a Master of Arts in theology in the Fall, now seems like a great time to ask them. The first is this:

What is Truth?

As far as questions go, "what is truth?" is one of the most basic. Your answer to this question affects how you will answer any other question, and indeed how you handle the very answer to the question itself. Everyone already has some kind of an answer to this question, because an answer is necessary in order to believe anything at all. This answer may range from straightforward to the postmodern "there is no single 'truth'", the statement of which actually presupposes a different nature of truth than the one it gives.

For years and years, I would have answered, "that which agrees with reality". I can't precisely remember where I picked this definition up, but it seemed perfectly reasonable so I stuck with it. I think many Christians, especially those of a more intellectual disposition like mine, would give a similar answer. Others might recognize that "truth" should not be some external standard that God merely conforms to, but that our view of truth should be based on our view of God, so whatever God says (as revealed in the Bible) is the very standard of truth by which we are to judge everything else.

It so happens that this very question crops up in the Bible. In John 18:38, Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor overseeing Jesus' trial at the hands of the Jews, asks it of Jesus after questioning Him. This is it: Jesus' chance to clear up the governor's surprisingly postmodern confusion and make this man of power and influence into His devoted follower! But he doesn't tell Pilate, "Truth is that which agrees with reality", or even "truth is the words of God as revealed in the scriptures". His actual response is much more challenging:

He says nothing.

Now, this could have been because Pilate was asking a rhetorical question that Jesus didn't feel like answering, or because he left the room too quickly for an answer, but for me, Jesus' silence here is deafening. I have a working theory for why He remained silent at this question: He was about to demonstrate the answer to Pilate and to the whole world in an answer infinitely more satisfying than a mere definition. Truth is not simply the body of all correct statements or even all the words of God: truth has a center, and that center is the capital-W Word of God who became a man, lived among us, and was crucified and resurrected for us.

Note: If you read the title and are concerned I've embraced heresy, this is what I was referring to by "second trinity", so scroll to here

This is another observation from my read through John in Greek. In John, Jesus (and the narrator) makes three powerful statements:
  • In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. (John 1:1) Later this Word is revealed to be Jesus. (1:14)
  • Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." (John 14:6) In context, Thomas just asked Jesus, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" Answer: "the way" Jesus is going is not a separate piece of information they have to find; Jesus Himself is the way they must follow.
  • [Jesus prayed,] "Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth." (John 17:17)
Jesus is the Word is truth is Jesus. It's hard to understand from a modernist perspective on truth like I used to hold. The resemblance to the doctrine of the Trinity is so strong here that I couldn't resist making a similar diagram to show it. (And if you combine the two, you get that this trinity also applies to God the Father and the Spirit)
The objection next question is, "What does this mean?" What does it mean that the ultimate revelation of God's Word and truth is a person--and that this person is also God? I think this is a great example of a Christian "mystery"--not at all meaning that drawing conclusions from it is impossible, but that they are inexhaustible; we can never fully understand it any more than we can drink an ocean. For starters (and this is a big tie-in to the other big questions), it means that truth is a lot more than correct statements about theology, the world, or anything else, no matter who makes them.

This makes much sense of the quote frequently misattributed to St. Francis of Assisi: "Preach the gospel. If necessary, use words." The closest real quote to it this is: 
...love one another, as the Lord says: "This is My commandment, that you love one another, as I have loved you." And let them show their love by the works they do for each other, according as the Apostle says: "let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth."
1 John 3:18, which Francis cites, is another crucial look at what truth is: John specifically contrasts "word or talk" with "deed and truth". So "truth" can be demonstrated in a show of love in imitation of Christ (as in 3:16) just as much as it can be in speaking the truth, if not more so. Of course words and talk are not devoid of truth--if they were, why would John be writing a letter?--but if all they represent is the transmission of correct information, I think John would say they are devoid of truth.

The Christians I know have a general sense of the need for truth-as-words to be pervaded by love, as in Ephesians 4:15, which gives us the language of "speaking the truth in love" and how we need both. But John does one better by pointing out that true actions can speak louder than true words, and if correct words are spoken without love, they are no truth at all and we would be better off saying nothing (see also 1 Corinthians 13:1-3).

Saturday, May 11, 2013

A Confusion of Analogies

A quick thought I had on another argument I hear Christians use against evolution. It goes something like: "Just as Christians believe Jesus was raised from the dead, which contradicts the laws of science, so we shouldn't let the scientific claims of evolution get us to give up our belief in a created world. ("Created" here meaning by some means other than evolution) In other words, if we're willing to believe in one unscientific miracle, why not another? Those Christian evolution-believers are being selective in how they hold God's word above science!

I'd like to point something out: I think this argument is comparing apples and oranges. We have specific evidence that Jesus rose from the dead, both from scripture and circumstantially from extrabiblical sources (Jewish/Romans historians mentioning that Jesus' followers believed He rose from the dead). However, there is no comparable evidence that Jesus did not rise from the dead. Skeptics who dispute this point don't marshal their own counterevidence; they try to show why the evidence Christians use to draw their conclusion is insufficient. What the belief in the resurrection is contradicting is not specific counterevidence, it is the generally observed principle that dead people don't come back to life.

Now compare the case of evolution. In this case, we have evidence in the fossil record that, while less unambiguous than the historical evidence that Jesus rose, still accommodates evolution as the best scientific theory we currently have to explain it. What more literal readers of Genesis are doing is not providing a better scientific theory to explain the evidence; they are trying to show why the evidence evolutionists use to draw their conclusion is insufficient. What the belief in evolution is contradicting is not specific counterevidence; it is the generally assumed principle that the Bible should be read as literally/historically true.

Sound familiar?

So I don't think the parallel in this argument goes the way its proponents would like it to. The analogy to be drawn is not God's word trumping the claims of this world (which, as I have argued in my first post on the Fall, is not a healthy view of truth). Instead, it is new evidence trumping a preexisting, inductively drawn theory that is better treated as descriptive than prescriptive. The laws of science are descriptive by nature; we can use them to try to look for patterns and make predictions, but if new observations don't match the predictions, we don't say, "the observations must be mistaken because they contradict the law"--no, we change the law to explain the new observation. Likewise, the literal/historical method for reading scripture is not given to us as a prescriptive law that all of scripture is supposed to comply with, and applying it prescriptively to disregard things is a mistake.

Friday, May 10, 2013

Two Responses on the Historicity of Adam

Because of the high value I place on originality in my posts, I try to avoid writing direct responses to other articles, but this one on Justin Taylor's blog caught my eye. It critiques the view advanced by Peter Enns, Denis Lamoreux, and others that, in light of what we know about evolution, it's reasonable to conclude that Adam was not a historical person. There has, of course, been considerable pushback from evangelicals on this point, and Taylor himself links to two other articles which I'll address here.

Adam versus Claims from Genetics, by Vern Polythress

This fairly academic paper examines the claim that "voluminous data about the information contained in human DNA...demonstrates our ape ancestry." It seems to do a fairly faithful job of reporting scientific evidence brought to bear in support of evolution; unfortunately, it restricts itself to a tiny subset of the evidence: the resemblance of much of the human and chimpanzee genomes (he devotes a few pages to showing why this evidence can be misleading). Obviously there is much, much more that could be said for evolution than this point, but Polythress doesn't mention it.

He makes the excellent point that the raw data supporting evolutionary theory says nothing about any purpose behind it or the lack thereof; i.e. that evolution being true doesn't mean it's random and unguided as Dawkins and other secularists would say, and that God could have used it as a means to create. He then proceeds to ignore this point for the rest of the paper (at least for human origins) as he conflates Darwinism, gradualism, and evolution into one fuzzy package that is supposed to be opposed to good Biblical hermeneutics. (See the very title of the paper, which sets doctrine and science on opposing sides) He treats "gradualism" as the claim that God is somehow bound to natural laws and could only have created life via gradual processes, which he then proceeds to rebuke by demonstrating that God could have created Adam and Eve specially. Since I doubt any Christian holding to evolutionary creationism would consider God to be subject to the law of natural selection, this isn't very helpful.

Polythress explains that there are two ways to interpret the human-chimpanzee genome evidence: "Darwinism, with its purposelessness and gradualism" or a Christian framework. We see that he doesn't consider any separation between the domains of science and religion; theology can and should be used to interpret scientific data, not just results: "We cannot presume to say just how he did it without looking both at the data and whatever we have come to know about God." By this reasoning, theological reasoning should be brought to bear to control the interpretation of any evidence that could lead one away from sound doctrine. Having "science" in the name of my degree, I would argue that theology should affect scientific reasoning through basic, Christlike values like honesty, integrity, and fair-mindedness, not by steering our reasoning process to support preexisting theological conclusions.

Polythress goes into some other arguments about Jesus turning water into wine and population bottlenecks, but they all fall under the common head of establishing that, no matter the evidence, an original human pair could have existed at some point. (Which could be earlier than 4004 BC due to gaps in the genealogies) The implied conclusion, then, is that a faithful reading of scripture is enough to establish that they did exist: "If we receive the Bible’s instruction, we must be cautious about such assumptions." ("That the past is like the present, and that the rates of mutation and other genetic processes remain the same") He seems to be saying that we can trust our God-given intellect and intuition in the realm of science to the glory of God, until we start moving toward conclusions that cast doubt on our theology at which point even the most basic assumptions (like the regularity of nature) are no longer sound.

Overall, this paper assumes what I consider to be a rather unhealthy view towards scientific knowledge, as I have attempted to demonstrate above. It exploits whatever wiggle room there is in current conclusions to clear a place for its interpretation of scripture as it pertains to history, even if the evidence seems to be leading in a different direction. A quote towards the end worries me: "What looked like firm conclusions in the excitement at an early stage may be modified later. We need patience to assess the research." In other words, there is still plenty room for authentic Christian belief (in a historical Adam) in the uncertainty of the present scientific conclusions--a restatement of the "God of the gaps" view that proposes God as the explanation for what we don't know about the universe, rather than what we do know. The tricky thing about scientific gaps is that they close.

What Depends on an Historical Adam, by Steven Wedgeworth

This article incisively states the theological problem with evolution I observed a few months ago, namely that it casts doubt on our means of explaining sin and death, and even somewhat implies that God created death. Even more than Polythress above, Wedgeworth gets at the incompatibility between evolution and Christian belief in a historical Adam and original sin. he goes directly after the claims of Peter Enns in particular.

He uses several of the same tactics I disagreed with Polythress on (check the context if you like), such as conflating the scientific theory evolution with the secular worldview of "Darwinism":
The reason that evangelicals are losing the historical Adam are several, but they all reduce down to the dominance of the Darwinistic evolutionary theory, both in the academies and in the media.  
Or only allowing other scripture to be used as a reason for interpreting Genesis nonliterally (that is, the literal-historical hemeneutic is the "default" for faithful interpretation), and assuming that the only alternative to Genesis being historically true is its authors simply being wrong:
It is clear that only Biblical exegesis remains in the dock. Indeed, what we are seeing in theological circles is a new refusal to exegete at all. Instead of demonstrating the ways in which the rest of the Bible supports a figurative or mythical reading of Genesis, we are told that it doesn’t matter if even the Old and New Testament writers were mistaken.
His main argument, though, is somewhat more fundamental than Polythress': if we deny the historicity of Adam, we also deny the historicity of the Bible in general and the Gospel. Paul uses Adam as the counterpart to Jesus in Romans 5:12-19, and if the historicity of Adam is lost, then Jesus' work loses its meaning:
If the first Adam was mythical, then the nature and work of the Second Adam, precisely as Second Adam, would have to be mythical as well. This does not mean that the Judaean man whom Paul identified as the Second Adam was himself a myth, nor that his life did not unfold in real history. Rather it would mean that his redemptive identity, along with the nature of what He said was his work, was merely mythical, not an objective event with objective effects. He would have been seeking to fulfill a myth.
After mentioning Peter Enns almost as a kind of theological boogeyman at the beginning of the article, Wedgeworth never mentions him again or shows evidence of having read his book The Evolution of Adam, which devotes an entire chapter to the question, "What do we do with Romans 5:12-19?" Besides ignoring all of the arguments (both intra- and extrabiblical) that Enns uses to make his case, this also means he ignores Enns' response that, in far fewer words, Paul understands Adam as distant history and Jesus' as resurrection as a current event that had become central to his understanding of everything--that is, Paul is interpreting the Genesis account in light of the present reality of the death and resurrection of Christ, not the other way around. And not just interpreting, but reinterpreting (the OT and Jesus themselves significantly make no mention of Adam as the root of the human predicament).

He shows just how much doctrine evangelicalism has staked on its reading of Genesis 1-3 (emphasis added on the last sentence):
If Adam was not a historical individual, and if instead the Genesis account is a sort of mythical story which was employed in order to make a uniquely religious point, then Christianity is necessarily rendered merely metaphorical, expressing truths of the human condition through symbols. The Bible in this case is no longer an authoritative account of human origins, history, and final destiny. It no longer addresses all men in all places and times, but rather expresses one faith-narrative the seeks to convey a meaningful but wholly internal truth.
Put more simply: if Adam is mythical, then so is redemption. While it does not follow that if Adam is mythical, then the historicity of Jesus must also be denied, it does follow that if Adam is mythical, then the historicity of Jesus as Second Adam must be denied. And Christianity is founded on Jesus as Second Adam.
Apparently the only reason to believe in the historicity of Jesus is the historicity of Adam (nevermind the fact that there is actual historical evidence for the existence and ministry of Jesus): "The progressive evangelicals certainly believe in the historical Jesus. But apart from an earlier historical Adam, they have no coherent need to." I'd like to defer to N.T. Wright who provides an excellent explanation (which I've already linked to) about how the significance of Genesis 2 and 3 can be independent of its historicity. And not just the core of the gospel, but the very fabric of religious truth itself, and reality with it:
What exactly does this reimagining accomplish? The none-too-insignificant answer is that it changes our narrative of reality altogether. The Scriptures, and our religion, no longer tell a story about the structure of reality, but rather only of a particular subset of experience within it. In short, this retelling and reimaging also accomplishes a significant privatization of religious truth.
His interpretation of Romans 8: 20-25 is also interesting:
For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body. For we were saved in this hope, but hope that is seen is not hope; for why does one still hope for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.
To which Wedgeworth says, "Sin is not only an internal and personal problem for the Apostle Paul. It is an ontological issue, affecting the very creation itself, the entire cosmos. Because of Adam’s sin, 'the creation was subjected to futility.'" He seems to be interpreting "him who subjected it in hope" here as Adam, not God; this is unbelievable to me. I have already tried to show how interpreting God as "him who subjected it" not only allows Christians to accept evolution, but results in a better hope and a better picture of God (which I am still working out) than the "Adam broke everything" narrative (which, again, begs the question of how on earth Adam's sin could have had such far-reaching consequences as changing the tectonic structure of the earth, creating disease, and apparently planting a bunch of old dead things in the ground that couldn't have died before?).

With all of that being as it may, Wedgeworth's article really falls short in that it doesn't address the view of evolutionary creation by looking at its chain of reasoning, pointing out weak points, and offering superior interpretations of the evidence it uses. (Which is exactly what I tried to do with the Fall narrative in my two-part post on it) Instead, it argues against it based on the perceived consequences of its being true, using an argument that is based on fear--fear of incorrect doctrine. (Which I no longer think is a good idea for Christians to follow) He says, "In light of what we already know, this can't possibly be true" rather than asking "This looks like it might be true; what would that mean?" Rather than dissecting the viewpoint of evolutionary creation, he fights it based on what lies at the bottom of the slippery slope of Biblical interpretation: the denial of the redemptive work of Jesus Christ. The tricky thing about slippery slopes is that they're rarely as slippery as you'd like.

The heart of the matter?

I'll say one more thing about an interesting quote by (of all sources for a Calvinist website) Pope Pius XII (emphasis added):
14. In theology some want to reduce to a minimum the meaning of dogmas; and to free dogma itself from terminology long established in the Church and from philosophical concepts held by Catholic teachers, to bring about a return in the explanation of Catholic doctrine to the way of speaking used in Holy Scripture and by the Fathers of the Church. They cherish the hope that when dogma is stripped of the elements which they hold to be extrinsic to divine revelation, it will compare advantageously with the dogmatic opinions of those who are separated from the unity of the Church and that in this way they will gradually arrive at a mutual assimilation of Catholic dogma with the tenets of the dissidents.
15. Moreover, they assert that when Catholic doctrine has been reduced to this condition, a way will be found to satisfy modern needs, that will permit of dogma being expressed also by the concepts of modern philosophy, whether of immanentism or idealism or existentialism or any other system. Some more audacious affirm that this can and must be done, because they hold that the mysteries of faith are never expressed by truly adequate concepts but only by approximate and ever changeable notions, in which the truth is to some extent expressed, but is necessarily distorted. Wherefore they do not consider it absurd, but altogether necessary, that theology should substitute new concepts in place of the old ones in keeping with the various philosophies which in the course of time it uses as its instruments, so that it should give human expression to divine truths in various ways which are even somewhat opposed, but still equivalent, as they say. They add that the history of dogmas consists in the reporting of the various forms in which revealed truth has been clothed, forms that have succeeded one another in accordance with the different teachings and opinions that have arisen over the course of the centuries.
Wedgeworth comments: "Pius’s concerns about viewing dogma as the reporting of mere forms or as intellectual clothings which only exist over and around the true reality is precisely the problem we are dealing with today." He seems to be saying, at least implicitly, that Biblical doctrine is absolutely true and not clothed in any particular intellectual or philosophical context. This is interesting because I directly and completely disagree with it. In any disagreement, I strive to understand exactly where the two parties diverge, which may be hidden under multiple layers of inference and rhetoric, and I suspect that in this case the above statement may be it.

So I'd be interested to hear other peoples' thoughts on this question, which has more than two answers--basically, how contextualized the truth in the Bible is. In the case of human origins or in general, what are the "elements [that are] extrinsic to divine revelation"--where does the human side of scripture end and the divine begin? Or, to push Enns' incarnational analogy to its logical conclusion, is scripture somehow 100% human and 100% divine? This is a fascinating question that I'll have to explore more in future posts.

As I said at the beginning, directly critiquing the work of anyone, let alone two men with several times as many years of life and degrees than me, gives me the heebie-jeebies--even if there is realistically no chance of their ever reading this post unless it is the one that finally breaks me into the Christian blagosphere. All I ask, faithful reader, is that you consider our words and not our credentials. I pray that these responses were not written out of selfish ambition or a disdain for those I disagree with, but of love for the truth. A healthier faith is one that encompasses and transforms more of our experience, and so we should seek a view of creation that explains our external knowledge instead of pushing it aside.