My recent exchange with some Catholics over at Justin Taylor's blog:
[Bryan Cross] “Jason, Is it even possible, in your mind, that you have misinterpreted St. Paul’s words in his letter to the Galatians?”
Since that objection cuts both ways, it’s self-refuting. We can all entertain the hypothetical possibility of error. However, that, of itself, doesn’t create any presumption of error. And it’s clear that Bryan is very one-sided in his skepticism. Jason ought to be skeptical about his evangelical interpretation of Galatians, but Bryan ought not be skeptical about his Catholic interpretation of Galatians. Jason should doubt his evangelical faith, but Bryan’s Catholic faith is indubitable.
“You are not making any distinction between the works of the ceremonial law as part of the Old Covenant, and works of the moral law, done in a state of grace in the New Covenant, out of love [agape] for God. In his letter to the Galatians, St. Paul wasn’t condemning (or even referring to) growth in justification through good works done in a state of grace; he was condemning a return to the Old Covenant by Christians, because that was a rejection of the New Covenant and implicitly a rejection of Jesus as the Messiah who established the New Covenant in which the requirement of those ceremonial laws is done away. If you don’t understand the distinction between the ceremonial law and the moral law, then you have entirely misunderstood Paul’s point in his letter to the Galatians. Then your whole warrant for calling the Church’s teaching a ‘false gospel’ is based on a misinterpretation of Scripture.”
Actually, it’s far more likely that Bryan has “entirely misunderstood” Paul’s point in Galatians. As Gordon Fee explains, in his exegesis of Gal 3:10-12,
“Paul thereby moves from the blessing of Abraham in Genesis (vv7-9) to the curses of Deut 27-28 on those who do not obey the law (vv10-13). He does so by citing the final, summarizing curse in Deut 27:26–as it appears in the LXX, but with some verbal modifications from 29:19-20: ‘Cursed is anyone who does not abide in all the things written in the book of the law, to do them.’ Paul has chosen his citation carefully, as the addition from Deut 29:20 and the citation of Lev 18:5 in v12 make certain. At issue for Paul is the Judaizer’s selectivity with regard to the law…Paul’s point is that those who choose to live by the law thereby exclude themselves from the blessing, because they must now ‘abide in the whole law, to do it,’ and they are cursed if they do not so ‘abide.’ What Paul is thus setting out to demonstrate is the total incompatibility of living on the basis of faith while also trying to live on the basis of doing the law…First, if the Galatian men allow themselves to be circumcised, they are making a choice ‘to live by the law’; and because people must ‘abide in [continue to live in] everything written in the law,’ they are thereby excluding themselves from living by the Spirit, based on faith in Christ Jesus. What the Galatians must recognize is that these two ways of living are mutually exclusive; one lives one way (by faith) or the other (by law); and to live by the other (the law) only partially is to be under a curse. Therefore, second, they cannot be partial in their obedience: to choose to live by the law means of necessity to live by the whole law; partial obedience (just circumcision, food laws, and Sabbath observance) is not permissible. So this too is part of the curse; it is either no law or the whole law. Third, to abide in the law carries with it the necessity of ‘doing the law,’ which automatically means that one is not trusting Christ for salvation. The logical consequence of all this is that the one who chooses to live by the law is thereby excluded from Christ, cut off from salvation altogether; and this is the real concern for Paul in all of this argumentation…Paul’s’ Gentile converts in Galatia cannot pick and choose what they will obey from the law. Rather, to go the way of the Torah is to go the whole way; there is no provision for partial obedience. Here, then, is the paragraph that puts all of this in its starkest form…His point now is, and it is the crucial point in the entire argument with the Galatians, that one cannot add ‘works of law’ to faith as a basis of ‘living’ before God. To the contrary, the law itself is quite plain on this matter…The ‘logic’ is thus certain and forceful, and Paul’s point is clear: You Galatians cannot have it both ways; it is an either/or situation. One either comes to life, and continues to live, on the basis of faith, or one is condemned to living by the law and that alone, and that quite excludes living by faith. To make this mean something else theologically is not only to do injustice to what Paul actually says, but takes the argument out of Paul’s’ context in order to make it fit another concern altogether,” Galatians (Deo Publishing 2007), 117-21.
Ironically and unwittingly, Bryan is siding with the Judaizers.
[Bryan Cross] “You claim that ‘passages like Romans 3:27 and Galatians 3:21-25 illustrate [that] Paul wanted works of every type excluded.’ But the texts don’t demand that interpretation.”
Well, according to the Catholic NT scholar Joseph Fitzmyer, commenting on the follow-up verse (3:28):
“[Paul’s] emphasis falls on pistei, ‘by faith,’ as Kuss, Bardenhewer, and Sickenberger recognize. That emphasis and the qualification ‘apart from deeds of (the law)’ show that in this context Paul means ‘by faith alone,’” Romans (Doubleday 1993), 364.
[Bryan Cross] “But that shouldn’t be interpreted as ruling out the ability to store up a righteous reward in heaven for good works done here: ‘every man shall receive his own reward according to his own labor.’ (1 Cor 3:8), and ‘Behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to render to each man according to what he has done.’ (Rev 22:12) The reward for our good works is based on the law, not on some arbitrary standard God just makes up on the Day of Judgment.”
Two problems:
i) As a point of exegetical method, it’s methodologically erroneous to use John to gloss Paul. The usage of each author needs to be construed on its own terms. After we’ve established what each writer meant, we can then proceed to systematic theology.
But until you interpret each writer on his own terms, it’s circular to assume that two different authors are even talking about the same thing. You need to exegete each writer on his own terms to know what he’s talking about in the first place before you’re in any position to relate what he says to what another author says.
ii) The fact that Scripture has a doctrine of heavenly rewards doesn’t mean that good works are justificatory (in the Pauline sense). Bryan is assuming the very conclusion which he needs to prove.
[Bryan Cross] “Steve, You’re conflating initial justification and growth in justification.”
Bryan, you’re interpolating a distinction between initial justification and final justification without first having established the existence of said subdivision in the text. You need to demonstrate through suitable exegesis that Paul conceived of justification as gradual process with different stages.
“Fitzmeyer’s comment, whether true or not, is fully compatible with works being excluded from initial justification, and yet not excluded from growth in justification or from final justification.”
Compatible under the tendentious assumptions that (a) justification is phased in over time, and (b) works contribute to final justification. You keep assuming what you need to prove.
“And Fee gets St. Paul wrong in the quotation you cited, because he doesn’t understand that it is through agape that we fulfill the whole law, as Jeremiah foretold (Jer 31:33) and St. Paul teaches in Rom 2:29.”
Which doesn’t establish that law-keeping is justificatory. You constantly anticipate your conclusion–minus the supporting argument.
“This is precisely why to break one point of the law is to break the whole law (James 2:10), because by doing so one has abandoned agape.”
It’s fallacious to use James to gloss Paul. To begin with, that prejudges the meaning of James. In addition, unless you already know what Paul means, you don’t know whether the two statements are even conceptually related.
“And by contrast, to retain agape is to fulfill the whole law, as St. Paul teaches. (Gal 5:14) Fee presents us with an either/or [all the OT law, or faith alone]. But that’s not St. Paul’s either/or. St. Paul’s either/or is Old Covenant or New Covenant.”
Several problems;
i) Gal 5:14, with its appeal to Lev 19:18, accentuates the continuity between the old covenant and the new at this juncture. That’s not either/or.
ii) Moreover, it’s in the context of the new covenant that Paul accentuates the inadmissibility of law-keeping as a basis of justification before God. So that’s not a contrast between the old covenant and the new. Rather, that’s a contrast within the new covenant itself.
iii) Do you think law-keeping was justificatory under the old covenant? Were Jews saved by works while Christians are saved by grace?
“With regard to the moral law and faith, in Christ they are both/and, by the supernatural gift of agape. The law is not abolished in the New Covenant; it is written on the hearts of men by the Spirit.”
The internalization of the law doesn’t mean the law is justificatory. You keep presuming the very thing you need to demonstrate. Is that because you’re reading everything through a Catholic lens–which superimposes Catholic concepts onto the text? Unfortunately, your conclusions are etched on your lens rather than your prooftext. Remove the lens and the conclusion disappears.
[Francis Beckwith] “Well, some us actually believe that it does not ‘harmonize the data’ as well as you think, if you mean by ‘harmonize the data’ a theory that best accounts for the data of scripture (including the teachings of Jesus), requires fewer ad hoc hypotheses, and best accounts for the development of the practices and beliefs of the ante-nicean and post-nicean church. After all, the first readers of Scripture should be accorded great deference since it is in their communities that canon developed and was eventually recognized, its parts recited and read in their liturgical practices, and they were the closest to the Apostles and their immediate successors (including Ignatius and Polycarp).”
i) Is Beckwith telling us that Roman Catholicism has ad hoc hypotheses, but fewer ad hoc hypotheses than Protestantism?
ii) Notice the slippage as he goes straight from the “first readers of Scripture” through the subapostolic fathers and ante-nicean fathers to the post-nicean fathers–as if all these different generations enjoy the same privileged epistemic situation. But that’s’ clearly not the case. Consider a court of law. If you subpoenaed a witness to offer testimony on the state of the NT church, would you subpoena Papias or John Chrysostom? Clearly Papias. No court of law would summon a “witness” who lived centuries after the fact. That would be hearsay evidence many many many times removed from the event in question.
iii) There are other obvious distinctions. While an eyewitness may well know more about an event he saw than somebody living 100 years after the event, it’s possible for a historian living 500 years after the event to know more about the event than somebody living 100 years after the event. That’s because the historian may consult more sources of information. Likewise, a modern Egyptologist knows more about ancient Egypt than St. Anselm, even though Anselm was born hundreds of before the Egyptologist.
iv) And we also know from reading the NT epistles that it was quite possible for contemporaries of the apostles who sat at their feet to misconstrue apostolic teaching. That’s why Paul is forced to write a follow-up letter to correct their misunderstanding. And that’s despite the fact that he also taught them face-to-face.
v) Finally, does the church of Rome consistently defer to the church fathers? Or does the church of Rome pick and choose which patristic teachings to follow?
Who was closer to NT times: Marcion (c. 85-160) or Gregory the Great (c. 540-604)? Does this mean, using Beckwith’s chronological yardstick, that Marcion takes precedence over Gregory the Great? Does that represent Catholic priorities? I don’t think so.
“To do a word study on the word ‘work,’ for example, as if that can ever settle this sort of question is lexical gnosticism, reminiscent of the sort of exoteric/esoteric reading of classical texts found among the followers of Leo Strauss in political philosophy. People write in sentences, embedded in paragraphs of which letters and books are composed.”
Of course, that’s just a straw man argument.
“But, remember, for those of us who are many generations removed from the founders of that theology, we are reading the text with those background beliefs firmly in place, situated in the center of a well-regarded theological tradition with some of wonderful Christian thinkers who advocate for it…some people are going to come to the theological table with a different plausibility structure than others, and this is why some of us find some arguments and reasons better than others…Suppose, also, that the person has been a life-long member of a Baptist Church that has a wonderful pastor and loving and charitable Christians who live out the words of Christ. These people, who he knows and trusts, teach him that the proper way to look at the Lord’s Supper is that it is symbolic. This person’s plausibility structure (or ‘evidential set’) will make it difficult for him to accept the Catholic position, even if one can make a church history argument for it. So, this person is going assess counter-arguments from Catholics and Orthodox partly on the resources of his plausibility structure.”
i) Of course, the problem with this objection is that it cuts both ways. A cradle Catholic will have a Catholic plausibility structure or evidential set. So that objection either proves too much or too little.
ii) Moreover, it’s misleading to suggest that Catholic exegetes arrive at Catholic conclusions while Protestant exegetes arrive at Protestant conclusion. If you actually read modern Catholic exegetes (e.g. Raymond Brown, Joseph Fitzmyer; John Meier, Luke Timothy Johnson), they frequently challenge traditional Catholic interpretations of Scripture and offer more “Protestant” interpretations in their place.
iii) And as far as church history is concerned, let’s remember that Protestants can be church historians, too. Protestant church historians are also “deep into church history.” They know the same primary and secondary source materials as Catholic theologians.
“On the other hand, there are other people, such as Scott Hahn, Jimmy Akin, Richard John Neuhaus, Avery Cardinal Dulles, John Henry Cardinal Newman, Robert Louis Wilken, and R. R. Reno, who have found the Reformed account less plausible than the Catholic one.”
Sure you want to use Newman to prove your point? As a recent historical monograph has documented, “it was events in Newman’s life that changed his interpretation of the Fathers, not the interpretation of the Fathers that caused Newman to change his life. King argues that Newman tailored his reading, ‘trying on’ the ideas of different Fathers to fit his own needs.”
Cf. B. King, Newman and the Alexandrian Fathers (OUP 2009).
Continuing with Beckwith:
“After all, these gentlemen, after careful study and reflection, though it no longer possible to embrace the Reformed view in good conscience. Are they irrational?”
But, of course, that’s misleading. Beckwith isn’t vying for epistemic parity between Catholicism and Protestantism. He doesn’t content himself with the even-handed notion that both sides are rational. Rather, Beckwith is vying for the superiority of Catholicism.
“However, there are other aspects of Catholic theology–apostolic succession, Eucharistic realism, the importance of avoiding the sin of schism, its ancient patrimony, etc.–that tip the scales for me in favor of Catholicism.”
i) That’s a makeweight. Unable to justify your Catholic interpretation of Scripture on exegetical grounds, you leverage your Catholic interpretation by lobbing a kitchen sink of extraneous considerations at the text. But how does that ascertain the meaning of the Bible writer? Do we simply vacate the meaning of Scripture if it comes into conflict with extrascriptural precommitments?
ii) And, of course, it’s not as if astute Protestants never evaluated the “other aspects” of Catholic theology.
[Francis Beckwith] “On the other hand, there are other people, such as Scott Hahn, Jimmy Akin, Richard John Neuhaus, Avery Cardinal Dulles, John Henry Cardinal Newman, Robert Louis Wilken, and R. R. Reno, who have found the Reformed account less plausible than the Catholic one.”
i) I’m unclear on why Beckwith is casting the debate in terms of Calvinism v. Catholicism (since “Reformed” is synonymous with “Calvinist”). Belief in sola fide is hardly limited to Calvinism.
ii) Of the names he ticked off, Newman and Dulles are clearly the most distinguished of the lot. I’ve already commented on Newman. So what about Dulles? Well, let’s take a few test-cases, shall we?
a) Consider his articles on the topic of salvation and damnation: “The Population of Hell,” “Who Can Be Saved?” (both of which are available online). On a related note is his article on the Jewish question: “The Covenant With Israel” (also available online).
As he rummages through church history, notice how he traces out the checked history of this central issue in Catholic theology. Notice the sea-change in Catholic theology.
On a different topic, but illustrating the same theological instability, consider his article on “Catholicism & Capital Punishment” (available online).
b) Then we have his article “From Ratzinger to Benedict” (available online).
On the one hand, it documents the way in which Karol Wojtyła and Joseph Ratzinger arrive at divergent interpretations of Vatican II. This despite the fact that both men were participants at the council, worked side by side for a quarter century, and ascended the papacy (one right after the other.
On the other hand, it also documents the divergence between early Ratzinger’s interpretation of Vatican II and late Ratzinger’s interpretation of Vatican II.
c) I’d also recommend that people read the book by Dulles on the Magisterium, which details the difficulties in arriving at a definitive statement of Catholic theology.
Catholicism is a sea island, the boundaries of which keep shifting.
“This person’s plausibility structure (or ‘evidential set’) will make it difficult for him to accept the Catholic position, even if one can make a church history argument for it.”
Keep in mind that Catholic church historians like Ignaz von Döllinger, Klaus Schatz, and Robert Eno challenge the official version of Catholic church history.
Indeed, Döllinger was excommunicated for his refusal to rubberstamp the historical revisionism of Vatican I.
[Francis Beckwith] “How do you know that this author is not mistaken as well?”
i) Why do you pose a self-defeating question? If you can ask me that question, then I can ask you the same question in return. So what does that move accomplish for you?
Have you settled for mutual skepticism? How does that give anyone a reason to be Roman Catholic rather than Lutheran or Anglican or Presbyterian or Baptist or Anabaptist?
For example, you earlier cited Cardinal Dulles. What if I replied by saying, “How do you know Dulles isn’t mistaken as well?” Surely you don’t think that’s an adequate response.
ii) Moreover, the possibility that so-and-so could be mistaken doesn’t ipso facto create a presumption that he is mistaken, or probably mistaken. And some folks are less likely to be mistaken than others. Benjamin King is a church historian who’s obviously made a specialized study of Newman. His monograph is published by a leading academic press. Is he infallible? No. But if we were to choose between his interpretation and yours, doesn’t he bring more expertise to the subject than you do?
Sure, you can challenge his interpretation. You might even be right. But you’d have to bring some counterevidence to bear. Not simply float the abstract possibility that he might be mistaken.
“One of the things you learn over the years…”
That line might work with one of your 19-year old students at Baylor. But since you’re about one year my junior, that just doesn’t fly.
“If I may offer a pastoral note here, it is really unhealthy to always be worrying about arguments as the woof and warp of your faith and walk with Jesus. Arguments are, of course, important. And I suspect less important than you think.”
Well, that disclaimer is rather duplicitous in this setting, don’t you think? Both you and Bryan are trying, kinda sorta, to argue for Catholicism. To argue against the Evangelical alternative.
So why do you suddenly introduce this disclaimer? Is that a fallback maneuver because you sense you’re losing the argument?
Disclaimers like this simply boomerang on yourself. It looks like you’re trying to preemptively minimize the value of arguments against Catholicism while, however, we’re supposed to take your arguments against evangelicalism (such as they are) far more seriously.
“Parts of the Development are clearly better than others, but in general I think he makes a good case.”
But that’s in tension with your initial appeal to “the first readers” of Scripture, the subapostolic fathers, &c.
As Mozley pointed out in his 19C review of Newman’s essay, if you’re going to invoke primitive tradition to validate Catholic dogma, then the dogma should be more evident upstream, not downstream.
“For example, Steve cites the B. King book, published in 2009. Are we to actually believe that prior to 2009 he was just waiting for the B. King book or something like it in order to not be tempted to cross the Tiber.”
I was merely responding to Beckwith on his own terms. A tu quoque argument. That doesn’t mean I have a dog in that fight one way or the other as far as Newman is concerned.
[Francis Beckwith] “Yikes Steve. I wrote this right after I dealt with King’s book. It was just a kind word to point out that none of us waits for the next issue of Theology Today or the next OUP catalog to see if its still rational to believe what we believe. For if we did, it would be a horrible and creepy (and thus, unhealthy).”
No, you just wait for the next papal encyclical to see if what you were required to believe the day before is what you’re forbidden to believe the day after, or vice versa.
[Phil Buster] “The great irony here: Justification by faith alone being turned into self-justification and a means for boasting, in this case, ways to justify oneself against the Catholic church and boast in the superiority of Protestantism. And therein lies the shallowness of evangelical Protestantism, it loves to wield doctrines but seldomly takes them to heart.”
First of all, I notice that you don’t rebut a single thing that Jason and I have said. So, to judge by your own performance, you regard your Catholic faith as indefensible.
Beyond that, your statement is a study in confusion. Whether we, as sinners, can merit our justification before God is a completely different question than providing an intellectual justification for our belief-system. An intellectual justification is not a question of personal merit, much less personal merit in relation to God. That’s hardly the “boasting” which Paul had in mind. Don’t you know the difference? And there’s nothing essentially “boastful” about an intellectual justification.
And if you think that providing an intellectual justification for one’s faith betrays the shallowness of one’s faith, then you condemn the Roman Catholic tradition of fundamental theology and polemical theology. Likewise, doesn’t Catholicism claim to be superior to evangelicalism? Why are you Roman Catholic rather than Protestant if you deem the two positions to be coequal?
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
SGU
SGU is a new series which premiered last month. It’s the third franchise spawned by the 1994 film. Roger Ebert subjected the film to a witty and scornful review. While I basically agree with him as far as he goes, it’s a rather lopsided review. I think he takes the film too seriously. If you treat it as pure entertainment, then I think it works fairly well on its own level. A fun popcorn movie.
In particular, Kurt Russell is enjoyable in all the films I’ve seen of his. He brings a down-to-earth, all-American presence to his film work which is increasingly rare in Hollywood. That lends a deadpan humor to his role in this outing.
I saw the first few episodes of SG-1. However, it was too campy to retain my interest. I never saw SGA, which had some aging retreads from other SF series. For all I know, it may have been a fine series.
Thus far, SGU is promising, although it’s promise may be limited. Unfortunately, the female characters seem to be fairly bland, so I don’t see much potential for character development in that department.
Two of the male characters play conflicted loners. There’s Dr. Rush, an obsessive and somewhat misanthropic scientist. He’s not exactly evil. However, he’s prepared to sacrifice human life to satisfy his scientific curiosity.
Then there’s Lt. Scott, a lapsed Catholic. He’s an idealist who fell short of his ideals.
Thus far, these are the two most compelling characters. And they have the most dramatic potential.
You also have “Math Boy,” who exists for comic relief.
Col. Young is played by Louis Ferreira, a Canadian actor with proudly aristocratic Iberian features. To my recollection, he’s the at least the third Latino actor to play the commander of a star ship. Thus far he’s rather low-key. A steady hand at the helm. He lacks the dramatic range of Eddie Olmos or the melodramatic flair of Ricardo Montalbán.
Of primary interest is to see the way in which, if at all, a SF series deals with religious themes. Thus far, SGU strikes that chord on two different registers. There’s a Christian or Catholic subtext involving some of the characters. This is exemplified by the Lord’s Prayer.
There is also a “living dust cloud” (reminiscent of the Exodus) which guides Lt. Scott to an oasis in the desert.
The dust cloud is some sort of (intelligent) alien lifeform. However, aliens often represent the transcendental dimension in the SF genre. A secularized version of God.
We’ll see how the series develops–for better or worse.
In particular, Kurt Russell is enjoyable in all the films I’ve seen of his. He brings a down-to-earth, all-American presence to his film work which is increasingly rare in Hollywood. That lends a deadpan humor to his role in this outing.
I saw the first few episodes of SG-1. However, it was too campy to retain my interest. I never saw SGA, which had some aging retreads from other SF series. For all I know, it may have been a fine series.
Thus far, SGU is promising, although it’s promise may be limited. Unfortunately, the female characters seem to be fairly bland, so I don’t see much potential for character development in that department.
Two of the male characters play conflicted loners. There’s Dr. Rush, an obsessive and somewhat misanthropic scientist. He’s not exactly evil. However, he’s prepared to sacrifice human life to satisfy his scientific curiosity.
Then there’s Lt. Scott, a lapsed Catholic. He’s an idealist who fell short of his ideals.
Thus far, these are the two most compelling characters. And they have the most dramatic potential.
You also have “Math Boy,” who exists for comic relief.
Col. Young is played by Louis Ferreira, a Canadian actor with proudly aristocratic Iberian features. To my recollection, he’s the at least the third Latino actor to play the commander of a star ship. Thus far he’s rather low-key. A steady hand at the helm. He lacks the dramatic range of Eddie Olmos or the melodramatic flair of Ricardo Montalbán.
Of primary interest is to see the way in which, if at all, a SF series deals with religious themes. Thus far, SGU strikes that chord on two different registers. There’s a Christian or Catholic subtext involving some of the characters. This is exemplified by the Lord’s Prayer.
There is also a “living dust cloud” (reminiscent of the Exodus) which guides Lt. Scott to an oasis in the desert.
The dust cloud is some sort of (intelligent) alien lifeform. However, aliens often represent the transcendental dimension in the SF genre. A secularized version of God.
We’ll see how the series develops–for better or worse.
Called to Communal Naval-Gazing
“Called to Communion” is a Catholic website that Francis Beckwith frequently plugs. It consists of dropouts from evangelicalism (with a Reformed accent).
What's ironic about this is that, on the one hand, they convert to Catholicism because sola scriptura doesn't afford them the degree of guidance they say they need. There's no substitute of a divine teaching office, ya know.
On the other hand, as soon as they convert, who do they turn to for theological advice? Do they consult their parish priest? No. Their local bishop? No.
Instead, they form a circle of Catholic converts (or reverts) and then proceed to gaze at their collective navals for theological enlightenment. Francis Beckwith gazes at the navel of Bryan Cross, who gazes at the navel of Neal Judisch, who gazes at the navel of Taylor Marshall, who gazes at the naval of Tim Troutman, &c.
They turn to each other for theological insight. This is just like a schismatic sect in which disgruntled members split with their church and form a breakaway church–consisting of themselves. By and for themselves.
What's ironic about this is that, on the one hand, they convert to Catholicism because sola scriptura doesn't afford them the degree of guidance they say they need. There's no substitute of a divine teaching office, ya know.
On the other hand, as soon as they convert, who do they turn to for theological advice? Do they consult their parish priest? No. Their local bishop? No.
Instead, they form a circle of Catholic converts (or reverts) and then proceed to gaze at their collective navals for theological enlightenment. Francis Beckwith gazes at the navel of Bryan Cross, who gazes at the navel of Neal Judisch, who gazes at the navel of Taylor Marshall, who gazes at the naval of Tim Troutman, &c.
They turn to each other for theological insight. This is just like a schismatic sect in which disgruntled members split with their church and form a breakaway church–consisting of themselves. By and for themselves.
"Zero-sum" salvation
When I was a Reformed Protestant, I viewed salvation as a “zero-sum” situation. This led to the question, “How much does God do and how much do I do in salvation?”
Clearly it can’t be God does 50% and I do 50%. Then there was the Arminian position that came down to God does 99.9% and I do 0.1%. The Calvinist position rejects all this and states God does 100% and I do 0% – entirely monergistic.
The Catholic position (which I argue is the Pauline position on this site and in the book) is that the “zero-sum” paradigm is misleading. If you start with a scale ranging from zero to one hundred percent, you never get to the truth…We are not completely passive. Scripture NEVER speaks like that.
Calvinism only has it half right. So the right answer is that salvation is 100% divine and 100% human – the divine grace being prior to human faith and works. That’s the Catholic position and I would challenge you to read the New Testament with this Catholic paradigm in mind. I think that you will find that it sheds light on passages, brings about a cohesive whole, and clarifies those “difficult passages” that Protestants avoid or dismiss (e.g. James 2, Hebrews 6).
http://pauliscatholic.com/2009/08/the-zero-sum-paradigm-and-the-catholic-view-of-salvation/
This is incompetent from start to finish:
1.Reformed soteriology never was “entirely monergistic” (in the sense of human passivity).
2.We need to draw an elementary distinction between subjective grace and objective grace. If, according to Paul, justification is an objective divine act, then, for that reason alone (not to mention other reasons), Christians can make no personal contribution to their own justification. It’s not a subjective process, but an objective state or standing. Forensic rather than dynamic. God imputes the merit of Christ to his elect. Something done to us and for us, not in us or with us.
Justification is monergistic because (among other reasons) the grace of justification is objective to the recipient.
3.By contrast, it’s possible for subjective grace to have a cooperative dimension. However, that also depends on the initial state of the recipient.
The unregenerate cannot give their consent their own regeneration. For a fundamental feature of their unregenerate state is their implacable enmity to the things of God. Therefore, regeneration must be monergistic.
As a result of regeneration, the regenerate are then able to make productive use of the means of grace in their sanctification. While they are passive in regeneration, they are not passive in sanctification. Of course, their perseverance in the faith is ultimately dependent on God’s gracious, sovereign preservation. The outcome is not in doubt.
Clearly it can’t be God does 50% and I do 50%. Then there was the Arminian position that came down to God does 99.9% and I do 0.1%. The Calvinist position rejects all this and states God does 100% and I do 0% – entirely monergistic.
The Catholic position (which I argue is the Pauline position on this site and in the book) is that the “zero-sum” paradigm is misleading. If you start with a scale ranging from zero to one hundred percent, you never get to the truth…We are not completely passive. Scripture NEVER speaks like that.
Calvinism only has it half right. So the right answer is that salvation is 100% divine and 100% human – the divine grace being prior to human faith and works. That’s the Catholic position and I would challenge you to read the New Testament with this Catholic paradigm in mind. I think that you will find that it sheds light on passages, brings about a cohesive whole, and clarifies those “difficult passages” that Protestants avoid or dismiss (e.g. James 2, Hebrews 6).
http://pauliscatholic.com/2009/08/the-zero-sum-paradigm-and-the-catholic-view-of-salvation/
This is incompetent from start to finish:
1.Reformed soteriology never was “entirely monergistic” (in the sense of human passivity).
2.We need to draw an elementary distinction between subjective grace and objective grace. If, according to Paul, justification is an objective divine act, then, for that reason alone (not to mention other reasons), Christians can make no personal contribution to their own justification. It’s not a subjective process, but an objective state or standing. Forensic rather than dynamic. God imputes the merit of Christ to his elect. Something done to us and for us, not in us or with us.
Justification is monergistic because (among other reasons) the grace of justification is objective to the recipient.
3.By contrast, it’s possible for subjective grace to have a cooperative dimension. However, that also depends on the initial state of the recipient.
The unregenerate cannot give their consent their own regeneration. For a fundamental feature of their unregenerate state is their implacable enmity to the things of God. Therefore, regeneration must be monergistic.
As a result of regeneration, the regenerate are then able to make productive use of the means of grace in their sanctification. While they are passive in regeneration, they are not passive in sanctification. Of course, their perseverance in the faith is ultimately dependent on God’s gracious, sovereign preservation. The outcome is not in doubt.
Justification by the numbers
Is the Bible 100% God's Word? The answer, according to Dei Verbum, is "yes." And yet, the Bible was written by human beings, with their own distinct writing styles and personal touches...So, even though the authors of Scripture cooperated with the production of Scripture, and even though their cooperation was a necessary condition for the Bible that resulted, the Bible is 100% God's Word. In order to make sense of this, one must bring to bear on this analysis the distinction between secondary and primary causality. That is, in the work of inscripturation, God is the primary cause of Scripture, but he is not the secondary cause. In fact, the secondary cause consists of all the human authors of the Bible. Because what resulted is precisely what God intended, the fact that he employed secondary causes in order to achieve this end, means that the final product is 100% God's Word. But, in a sense, we can also say that because the secondary causes he employed were human agents with rational powers, therefore, St. Paul wrote Romans, I Corinthians, and Galatians, St. John penned the Gospel of John, I, II, and III John, and other Bible writers authored the other books, and so forth. This understanding does not diminish the divine authorship of Scripture, but neither does it diminish the human contribution to it. So, the Bible is 100% God's Word, even though it is entirely authored by human beings.
If you can understand this, then you can understand the Catholic view of justification. Here's what the Catholic Catechism states:
"The merit of man before God in the Christian life arises from the fact that God has freely chosen to associate man with the work of his grace. The fatherly action of God is first on his own initiative, and then follows man’s free acting through his collaboration, so that the merit of good works is to be attributed in the first place to the grace of God, then to the faithful...Since the initiative belongs to God in the order of grace, no one can merit the initial grace of forgiveness and justification, at the beginning of conversion. Moved by the Holy Spirit and by charity, we can then merit for ourselves and for others the graces needed for our sanctification, for the increase of grace and charity, and for the attainment of eternal life."
So, if one mistakenly insists that Catholicism embraces "works righteousness" because justification requires human cooperation (though performed in sanctifying grace), then one must be prepared to abandon the idea that the Bible is 100% God's Word, since the theory of inscripturation requires human cooperation. Conversely, if one accepts the theory of inscripturation while insisting that the Bible is still 100% God's Word, then one must abandon the idea that Catholicism is semi-Pelagian because its view of justification requires human cooperation (though performed in sanctifying grace).
One can, of course, reject Catholicism for a variety of other reasons. But the semi-Pelagian (or "work's righteousness") charge simply cannot be one of them, unless one is willing to abandon one's theory of inscripturation.
http://romereturn.blogspot.com/2009/11/justification-and-analogy-with_02.html
There are some glaring problems with this comparison:
1.Beckwith has given us an argument from analogy minus the argument. He takes for granted that justification and inspiration are analogous. He takes for granted that justification and inspiration are both synergistic.
At no point, however, does he even attempt to show, through serious exegesis, that Pauline justification is synergistic. So all Beckwith has done here is to assert an analogy without arguing the point. Where is the exegetical spadework to warrant the comparison in the first place?
2.In addition, there are some pretty conspicuous disanalogies. Since human beings are rational agents, God can use the medium of human agency to reveal himself in and through the written word or spoken word.
Is that parallel to justification?
i) To begin with, human beings are sinners. We stand guilty before the bar of God. So how can culpable human beings merit, even in part, their own acquittal? How can they merit divine acceptance and approval on the partial basis of their personal virtue?
For example, a Mafia Don might be a wonderful family man. A devoted husband and father. Loving, caring, considerate.
He attends every ballgame his son plays. Attends every dance his daughter performs. Always remembers the anniversary of his marriage.
Yes, he murders his business rivals, but he keeps his business life separate from his family life. So, if he’s indicted on 20 counts of murder, should he get partial credit for being such a swell guy at home?
ii) And even if human beings were sinless, in what sense could they accrue merit with God? How could they ever put God in their debt? Since they owe their being and wellbeing to God, how could God owe them anything in return? Isn’t that patently absurd?
If you can understand this, then you can understand the Catholic view of justification. Here's what the Catholic Catechism states:
"The merit of man before God in the Christian life arises from the fact that God has freely chosen to associate man with the work of his grace. The fatherly action of God is first on his own initiative, and then follows man’s free acting through his collaboration, so that the merit of good works is to be attributed in the first place to the grace of God, then to the faithful...Since the initiative belongs to God in the order of grace, no one can merit the initial grace of forgiveness and justification, at the beginning of conversion. Moved by the Holy Spirit and by charity, we can then merit for ourselves and for others the graces needed for our sanctification, for the increase of grace and charity, and for the attainment of eternal life."
So, if one mistakenly insists that Catholicism embraces "works righteousness" because justification requires human cooperation (though performed in sanctifying grace), then one must be prepared to abandon the idea that the Bible is 100% God's Word, since the theory of inscripturation requires human cooperation. Conversely, if one accepts the theory of inscripturation while insisting that the Bible is still 100% God's Word, then one must abandon the idea that Catholicism is semi-Pelagian because its view of justification requires human cooperation (though performed in sanctifying grace).
One can, of course, reject Catholicism for a variety of other reasons. But the semi-Pelagian (or "work's righteousness") charge simply cannot be one of them, unless one is willing to abandon one's theory of inscripturation.
http://romereturn.blogspot.com/2009/11/justification-and-analogy-with_02.html
There are some glaring problems with this comparison:
1.Beckwith has given us an argument from analogy minus the argument. He takes for granted that justification and inspiration are analogous. He takes for granted that justification and inspiration are both synergistic.
At no point, however, does he even attempt to show, through serious exegesis, that Pauline justification is synergistic. So all Beckwith has done here is to assert an analogy without arguing the point. Where is the exegetical spadework to warrant the comparison in the first place?
2.In addition, there are some pretty conspicuous disanalogies. Since human beings are rational agents, God can use the medium of human agency to reveal himself in and through the written word or spoken word.
Is that parallel to justification?
i) To begin with, human beings are sinners. We stand guilty before the bar of God. So how can culpable human beings merit, even in part, their own acquittal? How can they merit divine acceptance and approval on the partial basis of their personal virtue?
For example, a Mafia Don might be a wonderful family man. A devoted husband and father. Loving, caring, considerate.
He attends every ballgame his son plays. Attends every dance his daughter performs. Always remembers the anniversary of his marriage.
Yes, he murders his business rivals, but he keeps his business life separate from his family life. So, if he’s indicted on 20 counts of murder, should he get partial credit for being such a swell guy at home?
ii) And even if human beings were sinless, in what sense could they accrue merit with God? How could they ever put God in their debt? Since they owe their being and wellbeing to God, how could God owe them anything in return? Isn’t that patently absurd?
Faith Alone In Romans 10:9-10 And Why It's Important
The issue of how "work" is to be defined came up in a recent thread. What I want to do here is link to a couple of other articles I've written on related themes.
We don't have to know why justification is received through faith alone in order to know that it's received in that manner. But scripture gives us some explanations, and we can think of possible reasons apart from what the Bible explains. There has to be a human response to God in order to have a relationship between the person and God, and faith effectively minimizes the human role while maximizing the Divine role. See here for some quotes of Biblical and extra-Biblical sources addressing this subject.
What about Romans 10:9-10, though? Does it contradict justification through faith alone by involving an outward act that follows faith? Here's an article I wrote on the subject a few years ago for the Real Clear Theology blog.
We don't have to know why justification is received through faith alone in order to know that it's received in that manner. But scripture gives us some explanations, and we can think of possible reasons apart from what the Bible explains. There has to be a human response to God in order to have a relationship between the person and God, and faith effectively minimizes the human role while maximizing the Divine role. See here for some quotes of Biblical and extra-Biblical sources addressing this subject.
What about Romans 10:9-10, though? Does it contradict justification through faith alone by involving an outward act that follows faith? Here's an article I wrote on the subject a few years ago for the Real Clear Theology blog.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Sometimes a light surprises
-i-
Dean and Dizzy were the best of friends. Friends from the cradle. In a small-town like Hennessey Oklahoma, everybody knew everybody else. Knew them, their parents, grandparents, cousins–second-cousins. You name it. You saw the same folks every day. One big extended family.
Dean and Dizzy went to the same school, the same church, the same A&W–where all the local kids hung out.
Sang in the choir. Played on the same football team.
Of course, that was no great distinction. In a small-town like Hennessey, Coach Brawler couldn’t be too finicky. It was all he could to do just to fill the positions. But they had heart. And great camaraderie.
Of course, “Dizzy” wasn’t his real name. But that’s what everyone called him for as long as Dean could remember.
They were best friends in grade school, junior high and high school. Well, until their senior year of high school.
That’s when they both fell for Anita. Anita was a cheerleader. And the homecoming queen. Voted most likely to succeed. By all accounts the most eligible girl in town.
Dean and Dizzy loved each other like brothers, but they also loved Anita, and they couldn’t both have her.
Anita dated both of them at one time or another. When she dated Dean, that made Dizzy jealous. When she dated Dizzy, that made Dean jealous.
But that was bearable. Their friendship could withstand a dash of jealousy. At first they even enjoyed the rivalry. They’d always been a bit competitive. Daring each other. Upping the ante.
It was all good fun until Dean found out from one of Anita’s classmates that Anita and Dizzy were engaged.
Dean felt betrayed. Felt that Dizzy had stolen her away from him. And, what is worse, Dizzy didn’t have the guts to tell him to his face. Of course, his reaction was why Dizzy didn’t break the news to him in the first place.
-ii-
Dean had always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. He had a short fuse, but he didn’t hold grudges.
Forgiveness came easy–as long as there wasn’t much at stake. But this was the first time in his life that he was deeply hurt. Try as he might, he couldn’t bounce back. He maintained a chipper façade–as best he could–but underneath it all, something very different was brewing.
Dizzy sensed a change. All of a sudden, Dean was moody and aloof. And he suspected the cause. But he was afraid to ask. Afraid to bring it out into the open. After all, what could he say? He hadn’t done anything wrong. But trying to defend himself wouldn’t make Dean feel any better. Indeed, it might make it worse. Rub it in.
Of course, there was a part of Dean that knew his resentment was unfair. He knew deep down that Dizzy hadn’t stolen his girlfriend. She made her own choices.
But what he thought and what he felt were two different things. His head told him one thing, but his heart told him something else, and–right now–he went with his heart. If Dizzy hadn’t stabbed him in the back, then why did he feel that stabbing pain in his back every time he saw his old friend? And why did the stabbing pain multiple every time he saw his old friend with Anita? He just couldn’t get over it.
Hennessey didn’t have a whole lot going for it. Anita was the best thing that every happened to him–while it lasted.
He deeply resented Dizzy’s glib indifference to the pain he was causing him. Not that Dizzy meant to be callous. Dizzy was so bowled over by Anita that he didn’t even notice the effect that had on Dean.
-iii-
But if he couldn’t get over it, he could at least get even. This was a new experience for Dean. An act of self-discovery. He wasn’t a naturally vindictive kind of guy. He didn’t know until now that he had it in him. It put him in touch with a side of his personality he never knew existed. Was that stranger there all along, just waiting to come out of the shadows? He could scarcely recognize his new self. Or was this his old self? Was this the real Dean?
He decided to frame Dizzy for a crime he didn’t commit. It wouldn’t be hard to do. Dean knew Dizzy inside and out. Had access to all his personal affects. Could predict his every move.
Planting evidence was easy. Making him show up in the wrong place at the wrong time was easy to orchestrate.
Dean knew it was wrong. Unchristian. It’s almost like he was watching stranger in action. Could this really be him?
Sitting in church, with murder in his heart every time he caught sight of Dizzy out of the corner of his eye–over there in the next row–where he always sat with his family, year-after-year, since they were both toddlers–made Dean feel like a hypocrite. Because he was.
As for the sermon, Pastor Joe might as well have been reciting the phonebook for all the difference it made to Dean. His ears were brass.
-iv-
The hallway was abuzz when Dean went to school that day. Nothing very newsworthy ever happened in a place like Hennessey. It gave him a grim sense of satisfaction to hear the fervid rumors about Dizzy’s arrest last night. Revenge was sweet.
Of course, he had to feign surprise. Utter disbelief. Shake his head on cue. Feign ignorance. Play dumb. Ask questions he knew the answer to. Layer upon layer of deception.
He was especially curious to find out how Anita would react. He sought her out. Was she going to see Dizzy in jail? Rush to his defense? Stand by her man?
As it turned out, Anita dumped her fiancé at the first sign of trouble. Hearing from her own lips how she broke up with Dizzy gave Dean yet another grim sense of satisfaction. He’d have her back. The plan was working. Or so he hoped.
Only she didn’t fall into his waiting arms. Indeed, after graduation, she moved to Oklahoma City and tied the knot with some enterprising young oilman. Married up. That’s the last they ever saw her. She moved out of their lowly orbit. The wedding was an invitation-only affair, and her old friends from Hennessey didn’t make the cut.
-v-
Dean’s satisfaction lasted for a day or two. But the sweet taste of revenge had a bittersweet aftertaste. At least for him.
He felt torn. His very success triggered misgivings. It was fun to plot and scheme. It was fun to imagine the outcome.
But when it really happened, there was a concrete finality to the outcome that bothered him. The sharp, hard-edged aspect of reality.
He felt betrayed. But to use his intimate knowledge of Dizzy, acquired over a lifetime of daily companionship, of confidences shared in mutual trust, to use all that to trap him, to turn friendship against itself–what was that if not the Judas kiss?
He’d been hurt, so he struck back. He hurt the person who hurt him. But after the initial satisfaction wore off, he was still hurting inside. He set out to do as much harm to his best friend as he could get away with. But having succeeded, the ugliness of the deed he set into motion slapped him in the face.
It stung when he had to bluff his way through a conversation with Dizzy at the jail. Of course, Dean had to go. That was part of the act. That’s what friends are for. Visit your best friend in jail.
And, really, how could he blame Dizzy for being smitten by Anita when Dizzy saw the very same thing in her that he did? They were both smitten by Anita.
Yet even if he wanted to, what could he do at this point to undo the damage? Turn himself in? But to frame someone for a crime was, itself, a crime. He didn’t want to take Dizzy’s place in the jail cell. He still resented the fact that Dizzy got the girl. On top of that, to then be imprisoned for Dizzy’s sake while Dizzy went free and lived happily ever after was a bit much.
And even if Dizzy chose to drop the charges for wrongful imprisonment, Dean would be a pariah once the news leaked out–as it was bound to in a gossipy small-town–of Dean’s complicity. He’d never live it down. He’d be shunned by one and all. What was he to do? What do you do when you know the right thing to do, but the price is too high? Sky-high?
Was it too late to turn back? Too late to recall the irrevocable deed?
-vi-
Dizzy was stunned when the sheriff arrested him. He was innocent. And he never imaged that his life would take such a fickle turn.
He didn’t think anything more shocking could possibly happen. That’s until he found out that his best friend was the culprit. His best friend set him up.
Now he was the one who felt a surge of steaming hot vengeance bubbling in his veins. To be betrayed by his best friend. His friend from as long as he could remember. He wanted his pound of flesh. Wanted Dean to get his comeuppance.
And for some unfathomable reason. So he paid Dean a visit in jail. He had a one-word question: “Why?”
When Dean explained the situation, Dizzy could have kicked himself. How could he miss anything that obvious? What would he have done were the tables turned?
Mind you, he was still smarting over the public humiliation. The arrest. The interrogation. The time in jail. His parents’ unspeakable shame. Not to mention losing Anita forever. Part of him still wanted to retaliate.
But it hadn’t dawned on him that both of them felt betrayed by the other. Felt as though each went behind the other’s back. He considered what it took for Dean to fess up. How hard that must have been. How much that cost him.
In a roundabout way, Dean had done him a favor. If Anita was that quick to leave him in the lurch, it was better that he found out now–before they tied the knot.
Now it was up to Dizzy to choose between vengeance and forgiveness. Would he press charges or drop the charges?
-vii-
Dean and Dizzy moved to Davis Oklahoma. With Anita out of the picture, there was nothing much to keep them nailed down in Hennessey. So they went into business together, renting boats and horses for sun-parched tourists drawn to Turner Falls.
There they met their wives–two nice college girls from Edmond on spring break. Dean and Dizzy’s boys frequently went horseback riding in the Arbuckles. Their two families often went on picnics together at Turner Falls Park. Dean and Dizzy both sang in the choir–with their wives.
Dean and Dizzy were the best of friends. Friends from the cradle. In a small-town like Hennessey Oklahoma, everybody knew everybody else. Knew them, their parents, grandparents, cousins–second-cousins. You name it. You saw the same folks every day. One big extended family.
Dean and Dizzy went to the same school, the same church, the same A&W–where all the local kids hung out.
Sang in the choir. Played on the same football team.
Of course, that was no great distinction. In a small-town like Hennessey, Coach Brawler couldn’t be too finicky. It was all he could to do just to fill the positions. But they had heart. And great camaraderie.
Of course, “Dizzy” wasn’t his real name. But that’s what everyone called him for as long as Dean could remember.
They were best friends in grade school, junior high and high school. Well, until their senior year of high school.
That’s when they both fell for Anita. Anita was a cheerleader. And the homecoming queen. Voted most likely to succeed. By all accounts the most eligible girl in town.
Dean and Dizzy loved each other like brothers, but they also loved Anita, and they couldn’t both have her.
Anita dated both of them at one time or another. When she dated Dean, that made Dizzy jealous. When she dated Dizzy, that made Dean jealous.
But that was bearable. Their friendship could withstand a dash of jealousy. At first they even enjoyed the rivalry. They’d always been a bit competitive. Daring each other. Upping the ante.
It was all good fun until Dean found out from one of Anita’s classmates that Anita and Dizzy were engaged.
Dean felt betrayed. Felt that Dizzy had stolen her away from him. And, what is worse, Dizzy didn’t have the guts to tell him to his face. Of course, his reaction was why Dizzy didn’t break the news to him in the first place.
-ii-
Dean had always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. He had a short fuse, but he didn’t hold grudges.
Forgiveness came easy–as long as there wasn’t much at stake. But this was the first time in his life that he was deeply hurt. Try as he might, he couldn’t bounce back. He maintained a chipper façade–as best he could–but underneath it all, something very different was brewing.
Dizzy sensed a change. All of a sudden, Dean was moody and aloof. And he suspected the cause. But he was afraid to ask. Afraid to bring it out into the open. After all, what could he say? He hadn’t done anything wrong. But trying to defend himself wouldn’t make Dean feel any better. Indeed, it might make it worse. Rub it in.
Of course, there was a part of Dean that knew his resentment was unfair. He knew deep down that Dizzy hadn’t stolen his girlfriend. She made her own choices.
But what he thought and what he felt were two different things. His head told him one thing, but his heart told him something else, and–right now–he went with his heart. If Dizzy hadn’t stabbed him in the back, then why did he feel that stabbing pain in his back every time he saw his old friend? And why did the stabbing pain multiple every time he saw his old friend with Anita? He just couldn’t get over it.
Hennessey didn’t have a whole lot going for it. Anita was the best thing that every happened to him–while it lasted.
He deeply resented Dizzy’s glib indifference to the pain he was causing him. Not that Dizzy meant to be callous. Dizzy was so bowled over by Anita that he didn’t even notice the effect that had on Dean.
-iii-
But if he couldn’t get over it, he could at least get even. This was a new experience for Dean. An act of self-discovery. He wasn’t a naturally vindictive kind of guy. He didn’t know until now that he had it in him. It put him in touch with a side of his personality he never knew existed. Was that stranger there all along, just waiting to come out of the shadows? He could scarcely recognize his new self. Or was this his old self? Was this the real Dean?
He decided to frame Dizzy for a crime he didn’t commit. It wouldn’t be hard to do. Dean knew Dizzy inside and out. Had access to all his personal affects. Could predict his every move.
Planting evidence was easy. Making him show up in the wrong place at the wrong time was easy to orchestrate.
Dean knew it was wrong. Unchristian. It’s almost like he was watching stranger in action. Could this really be him?
Sitting in church, with murder in his heart every time he caught sight of Dizzy out of the corner of his eye–over there in the next row–where he always sat with his family, year-after-year, since they were both toddlers–made Dean feel like a hypocrite. Because he was.
As for the sermon, Pastor Joe might as well have been reciting the phonebook for all the difference it made to Dean. His ears were brass.
-iv-
The hallway was abuzz when Dean went to school that day. Nothing very newsworthy ever happened in a place like Hennessey. It gave him a grim sense of satisfaction to hear the fervid rumors about Dizzy’s arrest last night. Revenge was sweet.
Of course, he had to feign surprise. Utter disbelief. Shake his head on cue. Feign ignorance. Play dumb. Ask questions he knew the answer to. Layer upon layer of deception.
He was especially curious to find out how Anita would react. He sought her out. Was she going to see Dizzy in jail? Rush to his defense? Stand by her man?
As it turned out, Anita dumped her fiancé at the first sign of trouble. Hearing from her own lips how she broke up with Dizzy gave Dean yet another grim sense of satisfaction. He’d have her back. The plan was working. Or so he hoped.
Only she didn’t fall into his waiting arms. Indeed, after graduation, she moved to Oklahoma City and tied the knot with some enterprising young oilman. Married up. That’s the last they ever saw her. She moved out of their lowly orbit. The wedding was an invitation-only affair, and her old friends from Hennessey didn’t make the cut.
-v-
Dean’s satisfaction lasted for a day or two. But the sweet taste of revenge had a bittersweet aftertaste. At least for him.
He felt torn. His very success triggered misgivings. It was fun to plot and scheme. It was fun to imagine the outcome.
But when it really happened, there was a concrete finality to the outcome that bothered him. The sharp, hard-edged aspect of reality.
He felt betrayed. But to use his intimate knowledge of Dizzy, acquired over a lifetime of daily companionship, of confidences shared in mutual trust, to use all that to trap him, to turn friendship against itself–what was that if not the Judas kiss?
He’d been hurt, so he struck back. He hurt the person who hurt him. But after the initial satisfaction wore off, he was still hurting inside. He set out to do as much harm to his best friend as he could get away with. But having succeeded, the ugliness of the deed he set into motion slapped him in the face.
It stung when he had to bluff his way through a conversation with Dizzy at the jail. Of course, Dean had to go. That was part of the act. That’s what friends are for. Visit your best friend in jail.
And, really, how could he blame Dizzy for being smitten by Anita when Dizzy saw the very same thing in her that he did? They were both smitten by Anita.
Yet even if he wanted to, what could he do at this point to undo the damage? Turn himself in? But to frame someone for a crime was, itself, a crime. He didn’t want to take Dizzy’s place in the jail cell. He still resented the fact that Dizzy got the girl. On top of that, to then be imprisoned for Dizzy’s sake while Dizzy went free and lived happily ever after was a bit much.
And even if Dizzy chose to drop the charges for wrongful imprisonment, Dean would be a pariah once the news leaked out–as it was bound to in a gossipy small-town–of Dean’s complicity. He’d never live it down. He’d be shunned by one and all. What was he to do? What do you do when you know the right thing to do, but the price is too high? Sky-high?
Was it too late to turn back? Too late to recall the irrevocable deed?
-vi-
Dizzy was stunned when the sheriff arrested him. He was innocent. And he never imaged that his life would take such a fickle turn.
He didn’t think anything more shocking could possibly happen. That’s until he found out that his best friend was the culprit. His best friend set him up.
Now he was the one who felt a surge of steaming hot vengeance bubbling in his veins. To be betrayed by his best friend. His friend from as long as he could remember. He wanted his pound of flesh. Wanted Dean to get his comeuppance.
And for some unfathomable reason. So he paid Dean a visit in jail. He had a one-word question: “Why?”
When Dean explained the situation, Dizzy could have kicked himself. How could he miss anything that obvious? What would he have done were the tables turned?
Mind you, he was still smarting over the public humiliation. The arrest. The interrogation. The time in jail. His parents’ unspeakable shame. Not to mention losing Anita forever. Part of him still wanted to retaliate.
But it hadn’t dawned on him that both of them felt betrayed by the other. Felt as though each went behind the other’s back. He considered what it took for Dean to fess up. How hard that must have been. How much that cost him.
In a roundabout way, Dean had done him a favor. If Anita was that quick to leave him in the lurch, it was better that he found out now–before they tied the knot.
Now it was up to Dizzy to choose between vengeance and forgiveness. Would he press charges or drop the charges?
-vii-
Dean and Dizzy moved to Davis Oklahoma. With Anita out of the picture, there was nothing much to keep them nailed down in Hennessey. So they went into business together, renting boats and horses for sun-parched tourists drawn to Turner Falls.
There they met their wives–two nice college girls from Edmond on spring break. Dean and Dizzy’s boys frequently went horseback riding in the Arbuckles. Their two families often went on picnics together at Turner Falls Park. Dean and Dizzy both sang in the choir–with their wives.
Ersatz paradise
As technology continues to advance, we have the increasing ability to turn our fallen world into a simulacrum of long-lost Eden. Through landscape engineering, we can turn a desert into a tropical paradise. Through plastic surgery, cosmetic surgery, cosmetic dentistry, and “Follicular Unit Extraction,” we can not only birth defects, but make ordinary men and women look like fashion models.
It wasn’t always so. Look at artwork from the past. Look at Da Vinci’s drawings of men and women with various deformities.
It the past, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to have buckteeth or bat ears, a big nose or hairlip.
My point is not to complaint about these developments. Technology can be a blessing.
But I suspect that our modern obsession with physical perfection and the illusory pursuit of perpetual youth is fostering social intolerance for the inevitable effects of the fall. Intolerance for the elderly and the disabled. Intolerance for men, women, and babies who commit the unforgivable sin of physical imperfection.
Why are most babies with Down Syndrome routinely aborted? Is it just because of their substandard IQ? Or is it simply their appearance? Because many parents are ashamed to have abnormal looking kids? The social stigma of physical imperfection.
A corollary to this simulacrum of long-lost Eden is the studied avoidance of those “soul-building” virtues which loom large in Christian sanctification. We avoid personal suffering. And, by the same token, we avoid the suffering of others. We don’t want to be around them.
Therefore, we don’t cultivate the sanctified virtues which are seeded by adversity and watered by grace.
In a combat situation, you want to have a comrade who will watch your back. A comrade who, if you were wounded, won’t leave you behind.
In the past, a measure of self-sacrifice was only to be expected. Many people suffered from incurable illnesses. There were no painkillers. Suffering was a normal part of life. The strong cared for the weak. The weak cared for the weaker.
That was underwritten in part by faith in the future. Heavenly-mindedness. The hope of better things to come.
But the loss of heavenliness mindedness makes people stingy. If this life is all there is, then they can’t waste precious time on the weak and needy. They can’t afford to take a personal-risk. Instead of building character, we rebuild bodies and engineer resort communities.
But as we perfect our physical environment, we hollow out the soul. Handsome on the outside, ugly on the inside. Strong bodies clothing sick souls.
It wasn’t always so. Look at artwork from the past. Look at Da Vinci’s drawings of men and women with various deformities.
It the past, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to have buckteeth or bat ears, a big nose or hairlip.
My point is not to complaint about these developments. Technology can be a blessing.
But I suspect that our modern obsession with physical perfection and the illusory pursuit of perpetual youth is fostering social intolerance for the inevitable effects of the fall. Intolerance for the elderly and the disabled. Intolerance for men, women, and babies who commit the unforgivable sin of physical imperfection.
Why are most babies with Down Syndrome routinely aborted? Is it just because of their substandard IQ? Or is it simply their appearance? Because many parents are ashamed to have abnormal looking kids? The social stigma of physical imperfection.
A corollary to this simulacrum of long-lost Eden is the studied avoidance of those “soul-building” virtues which loom large in Christian sanctification. We avoid personal suffering. And, by the same token, we avoid the suffering of others. We don’t want to be around them.
Therefore, we don’t cultivate the sanctified virtues which are seeded by adversity and watered by grace.
In a combat situation, you want to have a comrade who will watch your back. A comrade who, if you were wounded, won’t leave you behind.
In the past, a measure of self-sacrifice was only to be expected. Many people suffered from incurable illnesses. There were no painkillers. Suffering was a normal part of life. The strong cared for the weak. The weak cared for the weaker.
That was underwritten in part by faith in the future. Heavenly-mindedness. The hope of better things to come.
But the loss of heavenliness mindedness makes people stingy. If this life is all there is, then they can’t waste precious time on the weak and needy. They can’t afford to take a personal-risk. Instead of building character, we rebuild bodies and engineer resort communities.
But as we perfect our physical environment, we hollow out the soul. Handsome on the outside, ugly on the inside. Strong bodies clothing sick souls.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
A Papacy In Irenaeus?
There's a passage in Irenaeus that's often brought up in disputes over the papacy (Against Heresies 3:3). I addressed the passage in the comments section of a recent thread.
Mapping the map of Scripture
Debates involving the particular interpretation of Scripture frequently graduate to debates involving hermeneutics in general. And these, in turn, often involve the use of metaphors, like the “hermeneutical circle” or “interpretive grid” or “lens,” &c.
What these metaphors have in common is the suggestion that interpretation is a purely subjective process in which we simply project our preconceived methods and assumptions onto the text. We find what we were looking for. We take from the text what we brought to the text.
As a matter of human psychology or group psychology, that’s often true to one degree or another. Some readers are systematically guilty of doing just that. Indeed, some readers consciously do that very thing.
However, this type of metaphor tends to be overdrawn. For one thing, those that use it usually do think they know what Scripture means. They exempt themselves from the skeptical metaphor they apply to their opponents.
Every metaphor has its limitations. But if we’re going to use a metaphor to capture the hermeneutical process, my preference would be a cartographic metaphor.
There are different kids of maps. Different maps focus on different features, or combine different features. Maps can be general, thematic, topographic, topological, or orienteering. Maps can be up to date or out of date. Maps can be local, regional, or global.
In principle, you could use one map to find another map. Suppose you hid a map, like a treasure hunt. If you already had a map, you could use that map to locate the other map.
Which brings me to another point: you could use one kind of map to locate another kind of map. Perhaps the map you were using in your treasure hunt is not a very good map. Sketchy. Dated. Barely adequate. You make a few wrong turns.
Still, by using that map, you are able to find the other map. The map you discover is a much better map. More current. More detailed. Now that you have a better map, you can discard the inferior map.
You use your inferior map to discover a superior map. Once you have your hands on the superior map, you no longer need the inferior map. You can now use the superior map to find what you need.
We all bring different maps to our reading of Scripture. But Scripture is, itself a map. And we can compare one map with another. We can begin to observe the differences.
Once we study the Scriptural map, we become less dependent on the extrascriptural map we initially brought to the quest. Even if we needed an extrascriptural map to locate the Scriptural map, once we discover the Scriptural map, we can transition to the Scriptural map. The Scriptural map can correct for mistakes on the extrascriptural map.
What we start with is not what we end with. You can use one map to search for another. You don’t have to keep using the same map from start to finish. It’s possible to trade-up.
Or, to return to the lens metaphor, you can use an old pair of glasses to find a new pair of glasses. Even if you can’t see without a pair of glasses, and the old pair has an old prescription, it may be adequate to help you locate the new pair. Once you find the new pair, you don’t need to keep wearing the old pair.
What these metaphors have in common is the suggestion that interpretation is a purely subjective process in which we simply project our preconceived methods and assumptions onto the text. We find what we were looking for. We take from the text what we brought to the text.
As a matter of human psychology or group psychology, that’s often true to one degree or another. Some readers are systematically guilty of doing just that. Indeed, some readers consciously do that very thing.
However, this type of metaphor tends to be overdrawn. For one thing, those that use it usually do think they know what Scripture means. They exempt themselves from the skeptical metaphor they apply to their opponents.
Every metaphor has its limitations. But if we’re going to use a metaphor to capture the hermeneutical process, my preference would be a cartographic metaphor.
There are different kids of maps. Different maps focus on different features, or combine different features. Maps can be general, thematic, topographic, topological, or orienteering. Maps can be up to date or out of date. Maps can be local, regional, or global.
In principle, you could use one map to find another map. Suppose you hid a map, like a treasure hunt. If you already had a map, you could use that map to locate the other map.
Which brings me to another point: you could use one kind of map to locate another kind of map. Perhaps the map you were using in your treasure hunt is not a very good map. Sketchy. Dated. Barely adequate. You make a few wrong turns.
Still, by using that map, you are able to find the other map. The map you discover is a much better map. More current. More detailed. Now that you have a better map, you can discard the inferior map.
You use your inferior map to discover a superior map. Once you have your hands on the superior map, you no longer need the inferior map. You can now use the superior map to find what you need.
We all bring different maps to our reading of Scripture. But Scripture is, itself a map. And we can compare one map with another. We can begin to observe the differences.
Once we study the Scriptural map, we become less dependent on the extrascriptural map we initially brought to the quest. Even if we needed an extrascriptural map to locate the Scriptural map, once we discover the Scriptural map, we can transition to the Scriptural map. The Scriptural map can correct for mistakes on the extrascriptural map.
What we start with is not what we end with. You can use one map to search for another. You don’t have to keep using the same map from start to finish. It’s possible to trade-up.
Or, to return to the lens metaphor, you can use an old pair of glasses to find a new pair of glasses. Even if you can’t see without a pair of glasses, and the old pair has an old prescription, it may be adequate to help you locate the new pair. Once you find the new pair, you don’t need to keep wearing the old pair.
Saving Faith Prior To Baptism
From the discussion at Justin Taylor's blog, linked earlier:
Bryan Cross wrote:
"If what you were saying were true, then every catechumen who died prior to his baptism would be damned. But the Church has never believed that. A person who claims to have faith, and knows that Jesus Christ has established baptism as the sacrament of faith through which we are born again, and yet refuses to be baptized, does not have faith. But faith comes *through* the sacrament of baptism, even when the reception of faith precedes the reception of the sacrament of baptism."
I said, earlier in this discussion, that I was addressing the normative means of justification in Catholicism. Catechumens who die prior to baptism, a category I mentioned as an exception before you mentioned them, are an exception, not representatives of what's normative.
Your assertion that faith comes through baptism is a claim you don't support, and it's one that's contradicted by the evidence. Nobody in the Biblical era is described as having faith, yet needing to wait until baptism to have that faith enhanced in some manner and thereby attain justification. Rather, people are justified as soon as they come to faith, and every instance in which it's narrated for us occurs prior to baptism (Mark 2:5, Luke 7:50, 18:10-14, Acts 10:44-48, Galatians 3:2, Ephesians 1:13-14, etc.). Even in the unusual context of Acts 19:1-6, the people in question receive the Spirit at the time of the laying on of hands, not at the time of baptism, and Paul's question in verse 2 suggests that he considered it normative to receive the Spirit at the time of faith, not at the time of baptism. To dismiss one of these passages as an exception to the rule would be unreasonable. To dismiss all of them as exceptions would be even more unreasonable. Some of the passages occur in contexts that are treated as normative (Acts 11 and Acts 15 treat the method of receiving justification in Acts 10 as normal; it's doubtful that all of the Galatians and Ephesians to whom Paul was writing were exceptions to a rule; etc.). And even the passages that aren't described as normative can't be dismissed as exceptions unless we have evidence to that effect. And we don't.
Furthermore, asserting that these passages are including baptism when they mention faith, or are assuming baptism without mentioning it, would also be an insufficient argument. We don't normally assume that the term faith includes baptism, and some of the relevant contexts can't reasonably include such a ceremony. There wouldn't have been a baptism in the Jewish temple in Luke 18. The people in Acts 10 are described as being baptized after receiving the Spirit through faith. Etc. Even in a passage like Galatians 3 or Ephesians 1, where reading baptism into the passage would be less unreasonable, it's still unreasonable to do so. Not only is baptism not mentioned (despite being mentioned explicitly in so many other contexts), but Paul even tells us that these people were justified at the time when they heard the message and believed. He's referring to the preaching of the gospel, and to interpret that as a reference to people being baptized as they hear the preaching would make little sense. Rather, the image Paul presents us with is reminiscent of what we see in Acts 10 and elsewhere in Acts, where people believe a preached message prior to baptism. Those who hear the preached word in Acts and accept it are said to believe, even though they haven't yet been baptized (15:7-9). Baptism is sometimes mentioned, but it's distinguished from faith (Acts 8:12-13, 18:8). It's not just assumed that any mention of faith includes baptism.
Baptism does unite us to Christ. But so do other activities that occur after the attaining of justification (Romans 13:14, 2 Corinthians 4:10-11, Philippians 3:10-12).
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Is Catholicism Christian?
Here's a recent thread at Justin Taylor's blog in which I discuss whether Catholicism should be considered Christian and some common objections to my view on the subject.
Reformation Day
Here's a collection of many of Triablogue's articles about the historical roots of the Reformation and Evangelicalism.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Don't Overestimate The Empty Tomb
You may think I meant to say "underestimate" rather than "overestimate". But the title of the post is correct. Here's something I recently wrote at the Stand To Reason blog:
I agree with your main point. The case for Jesus' physical resurrection is made significantly stronger by bringing in the empty tomb. I would include the empty tomb if I were to debate the subject, and I would include other evidence often not mentioned by people like Mike Licona and William Lane Craig in their debates.
But I think you're underestimating the strength of the argument without the empty tomb. It's not as though non-physical supernatural appearances of Jesus would be consistent with Bart Ehrman's view. You refer to "apparitions", but something like a supernatural vision could serve as evidence for Christianity. A non-physical appearance of Jesus could be inconsistent with naturalistic theories. The data Licona cited concerning the nature of hallucinations would be relevant even if every appearance of Jesus had been non-physical.
I agree with you that Licona would have to take on an added burden if he were to appeal to "the Gospel accounts that speak of Jesus' appearances as being physical in nature". But he could argue for the physical nature of the appearances without even doing that. The gospels and other early sources reflect an underlying theme in first-century Israel that would have to be addressed even if the gospels didn't exist. The reports of physical evidence for Jesus' resurrection are found in every gospel and in Acts (Matthew 28:9, Mark 16:4-6, Luke 24:42-43, John 21:9-13, Acts 10:41, etc.), as well as in a possibly independent passage in Ignatius of Antioch (Letter To The Smyrnaeans, 3; note the added detail in Ignatius as compared to the gospels). That widespread early concern for physical evidence is consistent with what we know of the mainstream view of resurrection in the Judaism of that time. How likely is it that so many people (hundreds referred to in 1 Corinthians 15 alone) would think they had seen the risen Christ without seeking physical evidence and without coming into contact with physical evidence regardless of whether they were seeking it?
What Matthew's gospel mentions in passing, the incident in which some women touch Jesus' feet (Matthew 28:9), is the sort of thing we would expect to happen at some point, probably multiple times. The idea that hundreds of people living in the context of first-century Israel would think they had seen a resurrected man, yet have sought no physical confirmation of it or sought it and never received it, is unlikely. Peter may have been present during three of more appearances (the appearances to Cephas, the Twelve, and all of the apostles in 1 Corinthians 15). Did he hallucinate three times, and did he never successfully seek physical confirmation? The more people and appearances there are, in a setting like first-century Israel, the more difficult it is to argue that there probably wouldn't have been any physical evidence involved. Documents like the gospels make the case stronger, but the case can be made to some extent even from a passage like 1 Corinthians 15.
I would add that defending the gospel accounts (and the accounts of Paul's experience in Acts, which also have physical elements) is less difficult than is often suggested. The earliest Christians were highly concerned about eyewitness testimony (Richard Bauckham, Jesus And The Eyewitnesses [Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 2006]). The highest church office, that of apostle, was reserved for eyewitnesses. The most prominent churches of the second century were churches that had been in historical contact with the apostles (Rome, Smyrna, Ephesus, etc.), since the early Christians valued eyewitness testimony so much. Etc.
How likely is it that none of the eyewitnesses' accounts of seeing the risen Jesus would have been preserved? Or that some were preserved, but that every reference to physical evidence within those accounts is inauthentic? A skeptic could assert such a position, but on what convincing basis would he expect others to agree with him? And, of course, a Christian could argue for the traditional authorship attributions of the gospels and Acts. For example, there seems to have been widespread corroboration of those attributions among the early enemies of Christianity. The early Christians were honest about the doubts they had concerning other authorship attributions, and we have other reasons for trusting what they said about gospel authorship. There are so many reasons to trust what the gospels and other early sources report about physical evidence for the resurrection. It would place an added burden on somebody like Mike Licona to argue for such data in a debate, but I think people often underestimate how successfully it could be done.
Barnac the Magnificent
I was never a regular viewer of the Tonight Show, but from time to time I’ve seen little clips of Johnny Carson doing his Carnac the Magnificent act.
Carson retired in 1992, and died in 2005. However, I see that Barack Obama has assumed the mantle of Carnac the Magificent.
Obama gives a speech a day. He’s the all-seeing oracle who knows the answer to everything. An instant expert on anything and everything. The Carnac-in-Chief.
Bring all your questions to Barnac the Magnificent, and watch him do his billet-reading routine.
Carson retired in 1992, and died in 2005. However, I see that Barack Obama has assumed the mantle of Carnac the Magificent.
Obama gives a speech a day. He’s the all-seeing oracle who knows the answer to everything. An instant expert on anything and everything. The Carnac-in-Chief.
Bring all your questions to Barnac the Magnificent, and watch him do his billet-reading routine.
The Failure Of The Both/And Approach To Justification
Francis Beckwith, quoting Taylor Marshall, wrote:
Works (including involvement in baptism and other sacraments) are 100% absent in the paradigm case of Abraham (Genesis 15:6) and 100% absent in the historical descriptions of how others were justified (Mark 2:5, Luke 7:50, Acts 10:44-48, Galatians 3:2-9, etc.). Works were present in Abraham's life, a point made in James 2, and they would have followed faith in cases like those in Mark 2, Luke 7, etc. But justification occurs at the time of faith, not at the time of baptism or any other work. Not only would it be a less natural interpretation to dismiss these passages as exceptions to a rule, but some of these passages are presented in contexts that are about what's normative, not what's exceptional. People like Abraham, the tax collector of Luke 18, Cornelius, and the Galatians are treated as if the means by which they received justification was normative. Every one of them received justification through faith alone, without the presence of baptism or any other work.
Paul often points back to how people were initially justified (Galatians 3:2, Ephesians 1:13-14, etc.). The Judaizers couldn't argue that while justification is initially attained through faith alone, works could be added as means of maintaining or increasing justification later. It seems that Paul viewed the initial means of attaining justification as evidence that works couldn't be added to the process, as a means of justification, afterward.
But let's set that point aside for the moment. Assume, for the sake of argument, that works might become a means of maintaining or increasing justification after justification is received. The fact would remain that scripture contradicts Roman Catholic soteriology on the issue of how justification is initially attained. Passages like Genesis 15 and Acts 10 don't reflect a Catholic view. They reflect an Evangelical view.
Yes, Catholicism teaches that "the divine grace [is] prior to human faith and works", as Taylor Marshall puts it. But scripture teaches that justification occurs, normatively, prior to baptism and other works, which is inconsistent with Catholic teaching. To use Marshall's examples, scripture does suggest that Jesus is both God and man and that Peter was both empowered by God to walk on water and walked by his own power. Thus, we have to account for both. But when baptism and other works are absent from passages of scripture like the ones discussed above, there are no works to account for. You don't need an explanation that includes both faith and works. To the contrary, an explanation that includes works is wrong. It includes too much. It's more reasonable to read passages like Hebrews 6 and James 2 as Evangelicals do than it is to include works in passages like the ones I've discussed above or to dismiss those passages as exceptions to a rule.
So the right answer is that salvation is 100% divine and 100% human – the divine grace being prior to human faith and works. That’s the Catholic position and I would challenge you to read the New Testament with this Catholic paradigm in mind. I think that you will find that it sheds light on passages, brings about a cohesive whole, and clarifies those “difficult passages” that Protestants avoid or dismiss (e.g. James 2, Hebrews 6).
Works (including involvement in baptism and other sacraments) are 100% absent in the paradigm case of Abraham (Genesis 15:6) and 100% absent in the historical descriptions of how others were justified (Mark 2:5, Luke 7:50, Acts 10:44-48, Galatians 3:2-9, etc.). Works were present in Abraham's life, a point made in James 2, and they would have followed faith in cases like those in Mark 2, Luke 7, etc. But justification occurs at the time of faith, not at the time of baptism or any other work. Not only would it be a less natural interpretation to dismiss these passages as exceptions to a rule, but some of these passages are presented in contexts that are about what's normative, not what's exceptional. People like Abraham, the tax collector of Luke 18, Cornelius, and the Galatians are treated as if the means by which they received justification was normative. Every one of them received justification through faith alone, without the presence of baptism or any other work.
Paul often points back to how people were initially justified (Galatians 3:2, Ephesians 1:13-14, etc.). The Judaizers couldn't argue that while justification is initially attained through faith alone, works could be added as means of maintaining or increasing justification later. It seems that Paul viewed the initial means of attaining justification as evidence that works couldn't be added to the process, as a means of justification, afterward.
But let's set that point aside for the moment. Assume, for the sake of argument, that works might become a means of maintaining or increasing justification after justification is received. The fact would remain that scripture contradicts Roman Catholic soteriology on the issue of how justification is initially attained. Passages like Genesis 15 and Acts 10 don't reflect a Catholic view. They reflect an Evangelical view.
Yes, Catholicism teaches that "the divine grace [is] prior to human faith and works", as Taylor Marshall puts it. But scripture teaches that justification occurs, normatively, prior to baptism and other works, which is inconsistent with Catholic teaching. To use Marshall's examples, scripture does suggest that Jesus is both God and man and that Peter was both empowered by God to walk on water and walked by his own power. Thus, we have to account for both. But when baptism and other works are absent from passages of scripture like the ones discussed above, there are no works to account for. You don't need an explanation that includes both faith and works. To the contrary, an explanation that includes works is wrong. It includes too much. It's more reasonable to read passages like Hebrews 6 and James 2 as Evangelicals do than it is to include works in passages like the ones I've discussed above or to dismiss those passages as exceptions to a rule.
Do Catholics worship Mary?
For some odd reason, Victor Reppert has chosen to defend the cult of Mary against the charge of idolatry. And a couple of Catholics have rushed to his aid.
The basic argument seems to be that Catholics can’t be guilty of worshipping Mary since they don’t regard her as God. Therefore, they don’t venerate Mary in the same sense that they venerate Jesus or the Trinity.
There are several basic problems with this argument:
i) To be an idolater, you don’t have to ascribe to your “god” the same set of attributes you ascribe to Christ or the Trinity.
For example, if a Viking worships Thor, this doesn’t mean that Thor is given the same attributes as Christ or the Trinity. Indeed, by Christian standards, if a Thor-like being existed, he’d be more like a fallen angel. A finite being with superhuman powers.
So it’s not as if the Viking is transferring to Thor the attributes of the true God. Yet the Viking is still an idolater.
Let’s take a limiting-case of idolatry: Satanism. Does a devil-worshiper apply to Satan the same attributes as a Christian applies to Jesus or the Trinity? Obviously not.
In the mind of the Satanist, the devil is the polar opposite of God. A supernatural antihero. The devotion of a devil-worshiper stands in conscious, defiant contrast to Christian piety.
Yet Satanism is a very aggravated for of idolatry. Idolatry taken to its logical extreme.
ii) Likewise, in polytheistic idolatry, the “gods” range along a continuum. High gods and lesser gods. A wood nymph doesn’t have the same attributes as Zeus. A pagan worshiper can distinguish between the attributes of one “god” and another. You pray to different “gods” for different favors.
But whether a Greek priest prays to Zeus or a lowly wood nymph, it’s still idolatry.
iii) This brings us to the final issue. The question is not whether Catholicism is able to concoct some face-saving distinctions which shield the cult of Mary from the charge of idolatry. The question, rather, is whether Marian devotions constitute worship in the way the Bible describes the nature of worship–as well as various perversions of worship. Is she the functional equivalent of a patron goddess?
The basic argument seems to be that Catholics can’t be guilty of worshipping Mary since they don’t regard her as God. Therefore, they don’t venerate Mary in the same sense that they venerate Jesus or the Trinity.
There are several basic problems with this argument:
i) To be an idolater, you don’t have to ascribe to your “god” the same set of attributes you ascribe to Christ or the Trinity.
For example, if a Viking worships Thor, this doesn’t mean that Thor is given the same attributes as Christ or the Trinity. Indeed, by Christian standards, if a Thor-like being existed, he’d be more like a fallen angel. A finite being with superhuman powers.
So it’s not as if the Viking is transferring to Thor the attributes of the true God. Yet the Viking is still an idolater.
Let’s take a limiting-case of idolatry: Satanism. Does a devil-worshiper apply to Satan the same attributes as a Christian applies to Jesus or the Trinity? Obviously not.
In the mind of the Satanist, the devil is the polar opposite of God. A supernatural antihero. The devotion of a devil-worshiper stands in conscious, defiant contrast to Christian piety.
Yet Satanism is a very aggravated for of idolatry. Idolatry taken to its logical extreme.
ii) Likewise, in polytheistic idolatry, the “gods” range along a continuum. High gods and lesser gods. A wood nymph doesn’t have the same attributes as Zeus. A pagan worshiper can distinguish between the attributes of one “god” and another. You pray to different “gods” for different favors.
But whether a Greek priest prays to Zeus or a lowly wood nymph, it’s still idolatry.
iii) This brings us to the final issue. The question is not whether Catholicism is able to concoct some face-saving distinctions which shield the cult of Mary from the charge of idolatry. The question, rather, is whether Marian devotions constitute worship in the way the Bible describes the nature of worship–as well as various perversions of worship. Is she the functional equivalent of a patron goddess?
Thursday, October 29, 2009
"Why I Believe in God"
From John Mark Reynolds:
In one comment thread on this blog, someone asked why I believe. Here is a short answer.
It is an odd thing to be called on to defend something you think you know. It is disturbing at first, because it makes you simultaneously wonder about your own mental clarity and that of your questioner. Why would he ask such a question? Isn’t the truth of the matter obvious?
Unfortunately, there are few things we believe that some other person, seemingly rational, cannot doubt. After a bit of reflection, the doubts of others about my beliefs are less disturbing, because it is a chance to exercise wonder. Not surprisingly it is wonderful to wonder and a chance to wonder why I think God exists has proven an excellent opportunity for healthy Socratic doubt leading to a sense of His presence.
I am thankful for the process.
God exists, but what God? I mean the God that is all-powerful, all knowing, the God who is the Creator of the cosmos. By definition if such a God exists, there is only one God, because only one being could logically be omnipotent.
Some of my atheist friends assert that since I don’t believe in many gods, I am just an atheist who has refused to go all the way. After all, having given up on the worship of Zeus why do I cling to the worship of the God of the Bible?
My friends are mistaken, however. I don’t reject Zeus, because he does not exist, but because he is evil. The Zeus revealed to me in Homer is not worthy of worship, because he uses his power for evil. Now my friends who are atheists might immediately reply that the God of the Old Testament also commands or does things that appear evil to us, but this is different. The God of the Old Testament is presented as good and some of His reported actions are difficult to square with that goodness. At the worst a believer need only doubt the report, but the gods of the Greeks are presented as intentionally acting for our harm.
There is no giving Zeus the benefit of the doubt, because he and his worshipers do not ask for it!
Of course, in any case Christians do not deny that Zeus might exist as a spirit, though he clearly does not (at present) physically dwell on the top of Mount Olympus! We do not claim to know every supernatural being that exists and for all I know the supernatural world is very complex place indeed. I have it on good authority that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in Richard Dawkins and my philosophy.
So why do I know God exists?
Given the limits of a short essay, I will only be able to point in the direction of my favorite reasons, but there are many books that provide deeper justification and further explication of these reasons. On a popular level favorite books that were helpful to me include J.P. Moreland's Scaling the Secular City and A.E. Taylor's Does God Exist? Readers looking for something more difficult would do well to check out the work of Richard Swinburne of Oxford University.
Of course, I don’t believe in God at first because I sat and thought about Him. I believe in God, because I encountered Him. I prayed and had an experience of Him from a very early age. He has answered my prayers and forced me to change my behavior. This every day direct mental experience of His existence is fundamentally why I know God is real.
If I did not have it, I would have little motivation to wonder about Him, but I sought Him and I found Him . . . or better He found me! Of course, despite my apparent sanity (from my own biased point of view!), I might be mad or deceived. God might be an illusion in my head, despite the sense that there is a different mental texture to what His voice is saying.
Once challenged in his beliefs by reasonable questions, only a fool or a saint would be sure that he was not deluding himself. I know I am no saint and I hope not to be a fool, so I had to ask if my experiences were real and if I had correctly interpreted them.
It is important, therefore, that I have every day indirect experience of His existence. The community of believers around me matters. I am not alone in thinking God is real or speaks to people. This does not prove that God exist, but the billions of people over long periods of time who have believed in God does suggest that at the very least I am not the victim of some private delusion!
So I speak to God and He speaks to me and millions of living and otherwise rational human beings share this experience. It is what I would anticipate if God is out there. Why do some people fail to share that experience?
I don’t know, but absence of evidence in a few does not suggest the problem is in those who believe.
Third, there are philosophical arguments that suggest the existence of God is either necessary or reasonable. For example, the existence and nature of the cosmos suggests the existence of a rational God. The universe appears to have order and design and I am not persuaded that merely naturalistic processes can account for this order and design. Whatever the process God used to create, and only the arrogant believe they have this all worked out, the fundamental nature of that creation suggests a plan.
Fourth, morality persuades me that God exists. The long trajectory of human history demonstrates a common morality behind the blind spots of any particular culture. There is a common way that most people in most places and most times have followed. This law suggests a lawgiver.
Fifth, the existence of gratuitous beauty convinces me God exists. When I traveled above the clouds for the first time with my oldest son, he told me that it was beautiful and neither of us was surprised. Wherever we looked, we saw beauty and this was not a beauty that could have been hardwired into us by any natural process. Wherever we look as humans even to the furthest reaches of the cosmos beauty is there waiting for us.
Sixth, the world of Ideas points in the direction of the existence of the Mind of God. As a Platonist, I am convinced that numbers and ideas are real. There is a metaphysical world that cannot be reduced to the material. This does not prove God exists, but makes His existence more plausible to me.
Finally, love suggests to me that God is real. As Plato points out in his masterful dialogue Symposium love is surely of something. Humanity possesses a love for the Good, the True, and the Beautiful that demands a proper object. Only God is great enough to be a sufficient end for all the longing in the human heart. It might be that the universe is perverse and has given us this great longing without any means of fulfilling it, but there is no good reason to take this withering view. The sensible, indeed the hopeful response, is to assume that like hunger or thirst this longing too can find satisfaction in reality.
My friends who don’t believe in God might claim that I believe in God, partly, because I want to do so. This is true. The existence of a good God is such an awesome, exciting, and hopeful idea that I am rooting for it. There is nothing irrational with giving good news the benefit of the doubt, if you don’t sacrifice your mind to do so.
You ask me how I know He lives? He lives within my heart.
Mandatum novum
I was recently asked to comment on Yoder's use of Jn 13:34 as a prooftext of pacifism. Here is my reply:
1.Yoder is assuming that love is incompatible with violence. However, that’s far from obvious. In a fallen world, it isn’t possible to be loving to everyone every time. For in a fallen world, people do harmful things. If you’re loving to the perpetrator, then your unloving to his past or prospective victims. If you refuse to restrain the perpetrator by force, then how is your pacifism loving to the victim? And if you refuse to punish him, that’s unloving to his victims since it denies them a just recompense.
Or, to take another example, we might spank a 2-year-old who runs out into a busy intersection. He’s too young to be amendable to reason. But he understands pain. The fear of corporal punishment deters him from repeating that risky behavior. It’s “violent,” but loving.
2.Jn 13:34 couldn’t furnish a prooftext for pacifism since, in context, it’s referring to in-group love rather than out-group love. Christians are commanded to love one another. So the scope of the command is restricted to members of the covenant community.
Of course, that doesn’t preclude the possibility of out-group love. But Yoder will need to find a different prooftext to swing that argument. A prooftext for pacifism would require a reference to one’s enemies–not fellow Christians. And even then, it would be subject to other qualifications (see above, #1).
3.What makes the new commandment new?
i) The explicit differential factor is a new standard–the example of Jesus.
Indeed, it’s more than exemplary. It’s grounded in his redemptive death for his own (cf. 13:1). Christians love one another as the reflexive response to God’s love for them.
There are likely one or two implicit differential factors as well:
ii) This is a command for members of the new covenant community.
iii) And Ridderbos thinks that this is new, in part, because the coming of the Paraclete will create a new ability (through spiritual renewal) to keep this commandment.
I’m not sure about that interpretation, but it’s worth considering. (Hard to prove or disprove since we can’t enter into the experience of pre-Christian believers.)
4.BTW, the command is outward looking (v35) as well as inward looking. It includes a missionary dimension. However, even that is oriented to members of the in-group. To those the Father gave Jesus. Present and prospective members of the new covenant community. The ingathering of God’s elect.
1.Yoder is assuming that love is incompatible with violence. However, that’s far from obvious. In a fallen world, it isn’t possible to be loving to everyone every time. For in a fallen world, people do harmful things. If you’re loving to the perpetrator, then your unloving to his past or prospective victims. If you refuse to restrain the perpetrator by force, then how is your pacifism loving to the victim? And if you refuse to punish him, that’s unloving to his victims since it denies them a just recompense.
Or, to take another example, we might spank a 2-year-old who runs out into a busy intersection. He’s too young to be amendable to reason. But he understands pain. The fear of corporal punishment deters him from repeating that risky behavior. It’s “violent,” but loving.
2.Jn 13:34 couldn’t furnish a prooftext for pacifism since, in context, it’s referring to in-group love rather than out-group love. Christians are commanded to love one another. So the scope of the command is restricted to members of the covenant community.
Of course, that doesn’t preclude the possibility of out-group love. But Yoder will need to find a different prooftext to swing that argument. A prooftext for pacifism would require a reference to one’s enemies–not fellow Christians. And even then, it would be subject to other qualifications (see above, #1).
3.What makes the new commandment new?
i) The explicit differential factor is a new standard–the example of Jesus.
Indeed, it’s more than exemplary. It’s grounded in his redemptive death for his own (cf. 13:1). Christians love one another as the reflexive response to God’s love for them.
There are likely one or two implicit differential factors as well:
ii) This is a command for members of the new covenant community.
iii) And Ridderbos thinks that this is new, in part, because the coming of the Paraclete will create a new ability (through spiritual renewal) to keep this commandment.
I’m not sure about that interpretation, but it’s worth considering. (Hard to prove or disprove since we can’t enter into the experience of pre-Christian believers.)
4.BTW, the command is outward looking (v35) as well as inward looking. It includes a missionary dimension. However, even that is oriented to members of the in-group. To those the Father gave Jesus. Present and prospective members of the new covenant community. The ingathering of God’s elect.
Splitting the difference
On the one hand, Francis Beckwith says:
"In fact, virtually every Christological heresy in the history of the church is the consequence of someone trying to split the difference."
http://firstthings.com/blogs/evangel/2009/10/a-question-for-professor-moore/#comment-162
On the other hand, he also says:
"It [Roman Catholicism] rejects as artificial bifurcations the 'dilemmas' that are the woof and warp of most Protestant theologies: God's sovereignty v. Man's autonomy, faith v. works, Scripture v. tradition, body v. soul, nature v. grace."
http://romereturn.blogspot.com/2009/10/me-and-sola-scriptura-my-reply-to-guy.html
Looks like Catholicism is trying to split the difference Scripture and tradition, nature and grace, sovereignty and freedom, &c. But isn't that like...you know...heretical?
"In fact, virtually every Christological heresy in the history of the church is the consequence of someone trying to split the difference."
http://firstthings.com/blogs/evangel/2009/10/a-question-for-professor-moore/#comment-162
On the other hand, he also says:
"It [Roman Catholicism] rejects as artificial bifurcations the 'dilemmas' that are the woof and warp of most Protestant theologies: God's sovereignty v. Man's autonomy, faith v. works, Scripture v. tradition, body v. soul, nature v. grace."
http://romereturn.blogspot.com/2009/10/me-and-sola-scriptura-my-reply-to-guy.html
Looks like Catholicism is trying to split the difference Scripture and tradition, nature and grace, sovereignty and freedom, &c. But isn't that like...you know...heretical?
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