After the nuns, now, maybe they'll decide to rein him in a bit.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Bryan Cross makes the New York Times for his “Bubble” View of the Atonement
My blog post on Bryan Cross's “bubble” view of the Atonement of Christ, Put it in a bubble, and let it float away, was picked up by the NYTimes Blogrunner and was associated with a story on the US Catholic Bishops.
After the nuns, now, maybe they'll decide to rein him in a bit.
After the nuns, now, maybe they'll decide to rein him in a bit.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
It's all a matter of perspective
I’ve discussed this issue on other occasions, but I’ll return to the issue from a somewhat different angle. According to liberals like Paul Seely, the ancients judged by appearances. They thought the world was flat because, to all appearances, it seemed to be flat, and given their prescientific ignorance, they had no reason to question their naked-eye perception. Hence, we’re treated to that widely circulated diagram of the triple-decker universe.
I grew up in the Greater Seattle area. That’s a hilly, mountainous region. Depending on weather conditions, and where you’re facing, you can see rows of hills–hills behind hills. These turn into foothills, behind which you can see mountains or mountain ranges, like the Olympics, Cascades, Mt. Hood, and Mt. Rainier.
It looks like mountains are the most distant objects. There’s nothing between the mountains and the sky. The mountains appear to be right up against the sky. So it looks like mountains ring the outer edges of the flat earth. The only thing beyond the mountains is the sky.
But there’s a problem with that inference. For sightlines depend on the vantage-point of the observer. If you stayed in the same area all your life, I suppose you might labor under the illusion that you were at the center of the world, while the mountains marked the outer limits of the world.
But, of course, ancient people also traveled by boat or by foot. If you took a boat down the Pacific coast, if you saw Mt. Hood looking East rather than looking South, then you’d see that Mt. Hood wasn’t the end of the world. The world continued on the other side of Mt. Hood. There was something between the mountain and the sky. That wasn’t the edge of the world. Your perspective undergoes a radical shift. The viewpoint is relative to your particular position.
Surely lots of Indians did that sort of thing. Moreover, explorers like to brag about their discoveries. So is it realistic to think ancient people were that clueless about the world they inhabited? And that’s even before we bring inspiration to bear.
Here’s another thing to consider: before the invention and popularization of three-point perspective, how could the ancients accurately depict a landscape even if they knew better? Many of us have seen geometrically inaccurate Medieval paintings. But lack of foreshortening doesn’t mean the painter lacked depth perception. He knew that what’s farther looks smaller.
And even if a painter knew three-point perspective, he might still paint objects out of scale because that’s a way of indicating the comparative importance of different objects: bigger is better. His culture assigns great importance to some objects.
Doctrinally, nuns in US are “situation ... grave and a matter of serious concern”
It seems as if the organization of the women in leadership of 80% of the 55,000 nuns in the US -- (the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR)), the ones who should be (and used to be) doing most of the "teaching" and "catechizing" in the US have gotten a bit off track. The Vatican’s “Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith” (formerly the “Holy Office” and “the Inquisition” prior to that) has decided that “the current doctrinal and pastoral situation of LCWR is grave and a matter of serious concern”. The organization is said to be “stunned”.
Ahh, unity of doctrine. That's what the Catholic Faith is all about. Come home to Rome, and learn all of the correct things to believe. From dedicated, celibate “brides of Christ” who have devoted their lives (a) to learning that unified church doctrine, and (b) actually passing it along to the next generation of devout Roman Catholics.
Ahh, unity of doctrine. That's what the Catholic Faith is all about. Come home to Rome, and learn all of the correct things to believe. From dedicated, celibate “brides of Christ” who have devoted their lives (a) to learning that unified church doctrine, and (b) actually passing it along to the next generation of devout Roman Catholics.
Must we always forgive?
I’m going to comment on this post:
More importantly, all of us need to meditate a whole lot more on the first thing Jesus said as he was excruciatingly nailed to the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
i) An obvious problem with Blomberg’s argument is that his prooftext is anchored in a verse of questionable authenticity. Blomberg is surely aware of the fact that scholars are divided over the authenticity of this verse. It is therefore precarious for him to build his entire case on what may well be a scribal interpolation.
ii) Moreover, it’s deceptive of Blomberg to center a whole post on this particular verse without bothering to inform his readers regarding the text-critical issues. Many of his readers aren’t aware of the problem.
iii) Finally, Blomberg acts as if there’s only one side to this question. But fellow NT scholar A. B. Caneday has taken issue with unconditional forgiveness in his monograth Must Christians Always Forgive? So it’s not an open-and-shut case.
The examples could be multiplied. “Father, I can’t have a wholesome relationship with ‘M’ or ‘N’ unless they show signs of true repentance and change. But please forgive them, and help me not harbor a grudge, plot retaliation, blame you, lose faith, or do anything else that keeps me from growing in imitation of my true Master, Jesus Christ.”
Did we learn anything this year on Good Friday? Did we even bother to worship with God’s people on it? Or did we just jump straight to the joy of Easter? And then how much of our Easter celebration was truly Christian?
In my experience, Blomberg is a good example of somebody who harbors grudges.
Someone needs to give people like these Desmond Tutu’s book on the Truth and Reconciliation movement in South Africa.
I’m no expert on S. African political history, but based on my recollection of news coverage at the time, The Truth and Reconciliation Commission was a pragmatic, even cynical way to avert civil war.
It wasn’t practical to prosecute all the culprits. Not only did you have the white-on-black crime, but you also had the black-on-black crime. Black gangs who’d “necklace” (i.e. put burning tires around the necks of) other blacks. Even Winnie Mandela was complicit in the death of a boy.
So the new gov’t created The Truth and Reconciliation Commission as a way of sweeping many atrocities under the rug and putting the past behind them. It wasn’t idealistic or Christian. It was just a way of moving ahead.
Someone needs to introduce them to men and women in the Middle East or West Africa who have been mutilated and partially dismembered by attacking forces in ethnic wars, who nevertheless reach out to their attackers with forgiveness through the Christian gospel.
Actually, African and Middle-Eastern Christians have a perfect right to defend themselves.
Also, notice how Blomberg uses the politically correct, airbrushed term “ethnic wars,” when so much of the violence is fomented by Muslims.
Someone needs to immerse them in the Amish community for awhile, where forgiveness of enemies is routine and genuine.
Let’s consider a few examples, shall we?
This week, "Primetime: The Outsiders - The Amish" looks at people who are radical believers. Elizabeth Vargas reports on a disturbing side of the Amish community and interviews Mary Byler, a woman who broke the Amish code by reporting sexual abuse to authorities. Byler became the center of the scandal that rocked her tight-knit Amish home in Wisconsin when she told the Sheriff's office that she was raped hundreds of times - by eight or nine men, including her own brothers, who did confess to the crime. According to sociologist Donald Kraybill, confessing in the Amish Church for wrongdoings is the key step to forgiveness, and the standard punishment for any infraction is banishment from church activities for six weeks. Byler, on the other hand, felt the punishment was not enough. "You're being grounded for six weeks," she says. "It's just really ridiculous punishment. The funny thing is that they view drinking alcohol until you puke as bad a sin as raping somebody." She also speaks out about what brought her to her final decision to go to the authorities and what life after leaving the Amish community is like. This report originally aired in December 2004.
Amish Woman 4: My mom was a very gentle soul. She was always a servant to everybody else. She always made sure everybody was taken care of, except mom. She always tried to be the submissive woman. And already then I wasn't sure about that word "submissive." And then I married an abuser, and then the word "submission" just became a monster.
I was so proud of my first child. But I also remember, I would sit at the window rocking my baby. And sitting there alone, and I cried a lot. I knew things were not as they should be, but I kept telling myself, it's okay, it'll be all right. But I would cry a lot. I talked to my husband, and he'd say, "We're married, and I'm the head of the house." I'd say, "You know, the Bible says the father is the head of the home as Christ is the head of the church. But we also need to remember that Christ was not up here like a master with a big whip." Well, that didn't work well, because I was confronting him, and I was doubting his words of wisdom. I soon learned not to say those things.
They always say that we need to go to the church first, which I did. I went to the church and I asked for help. The very first thing that the minister said to me when I said, "We've been struggling with a lot of abuse, and I need help," he looked at me and he said, "So what did you do that caused your husband to treat you this way?" That was such a blow. That was such a blow. In fact it came to the point where the church actually had both of us not be able to go to communion until we can see where we have failed. And I felt like an outsider looking in.
Finally I reached the point where spiritually I just said, "I'm just done. I've just had it, Lord. I don't know what to do. But I have to be connected with the church again." I told my husband, "I'm going to go back to the ministers, and I'm just going to lay myself out and say, 'Here I am. I'll take any punishment you give me. I'll do anything. I just need -- I need the church so bad.'" And he said, "Well, if you do, you're on your own because I'm not going to do it that way." And so that's what I did. I went back to the ministers, and I just cried, and I just said, "I'll just do anything you tell me to." I acknowledged anything and everything that I could think of under the sun. And yeah, say yes to things that I didn't really think were maybe exactly right to say yes to. But I did it out of obedience because I felt God nudging me that way. And I got back in the church, without my husband. Obedience is not easy.
Does Blomberg think we should emulate that way of addressing domestic violance?
Let’s take another example from the PBS special:
Slate: On October 2, 2006, a non-Amish man entered an Amish schoolhouse in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania.
Slate: The gunman shot ten Amish girls. Five died.
Slate: That same day, Amish neighbors visited the killer's family.
Slate: More than 30 Amish attended the burial of Charles Roberts. Among them were the parents of several victims.
That probably illustrates the sort of thing Blomberg thinks Evangelical Christians ought to practice, but let’s step back and consider that for a moment.
i) Blomberg says Amish “routinely and genuinely” forgive their enemies. But is that true? I’m no expert on the Amish, but his claim strikes me as a hasty generalization.
I’m sure some Amish routinely and genuinely forgive their enemies (whoever that might be). However, in a fairly closed society like the Amish, I also assume there’s a degree of coercive conformity. You do what’s expected of you. You do what’s required of you. If you buck the system, you’re banished. Indeed, I just quoted two examples of that (see above).
So I’m guessing that some (many?) Amish go through the motions of forgiving others to continue functioning in the community. Forgiving under duress. Grudging forgiveness.
ii) Moreover, consider the case of the murdered girls. The surviving family members have had absolutely no time to emotionally process that utterly devastating tragedy before they are duty-bound to forgive the killer. Has Blomberg ever stopped to consider the psychological damage that might do?
Wouldn’t the survivors naturally be flooded with a range of emotions: shock, rage, hatred, and sorrow? Or the nagging afterthoughts–“If only I’d done something different, maybe this would never have happened.”
Suppose Caneday is right and Blomberg is wrong. Suppose the survivors are made to feel guilty about not wanting to forgive the killer? They’re already overcome with grief. They’ve suffered an irreparable loss.
Wouldn’t that place even more unbearable pressure on them? Aren’t they choking down their real feelings? Internalizing their true feelings? Masking their real feelings? Isn’t that likely to result in bitterness?
Indeed, isn’t there the considerable risk that some of them will end up hating God and losing their faith because they suffer from false guilt? Redirect their resentment at God because their elders taught them that it’s their solemn obligation to instantly and unconditionally forgive the killer of their children, and they just can’t bring themselves to do that?
Isn’t that an utterly merciless way to treat the surviving family members? Doesn’t that brutalize them all over again?
Shouldn’t they be allowed to work through their grief and loss at their own pace, without making inhuman demands on them? As it is, they will never recover. It will be an open wound.
Damien's playmates
JD WALTERS SAID:
On this model, what we do does make a difference, in that it results in a different version of 'God getting his way'. For instance, it is guaranteed that there will be a new heavens and a new Earth, and a redeemed resurrected people on it, but we may or may not be in that group, depending on our choices.
The new heavens and earth presuppose a situation in which the consequences of one’s decisions in this life are finalized for all time.
Yet libertarian agents still retain the freedom to choose between good and evil, do they not? On the open theist model, what happens to you if you make the wrong choice? Do you get other chances down the line to change your mind?
If you don’t make the first cut for the new heavens and earth, what’s your fate? Are you annihilated? But what if, given libertarian freedom, you were going to repent at a later date?
You can’t live on the new earth if you’re still choosing evil. Are you incarcerated somewhere?
Or what if you made the cut, but then fell off the wagon? After all, glorified saints retain their libertarian freedom, don’t they?
What keeps the world to come from reverting to the conditions of a fallen world?
God does give us significant freedom, but of course with the intent that we will freely choose him and his ways.
So he gives us freedom of choice on condition that we only do it his way. Kind of like a mother who gives her daughter the freedom to choose the boyfriend that her mother approves of.
But isn’t libertarian freedom generally freedom to choose between alternatives?
The consequences of either playing with or against God are very real for the player, indeed they have eternal significance.
So we have to play a game to be saved? We have to win a game to be saved? Sounds more like The Hunger Games. Whatever happened to salvation by grace?
How do you 'just don't like' God?
Because Rhoda’s God isn’t very likeable. He isn’t admirable or praiseworthy. I don’t respect Rhoda’s God. He’s too much like Trelane or Damien.
But choosing to play against God is evidence of a perverted, irrational, self-destructive will.
To play against Rhoda’s God would be irrational and self-destructive, although it wouldn’t be perverted.
It would be imprudent in the way it was imprudent for Prometheus and Diomedes to challenge the gods. You’re bound to lose.
So it’s wiser to be obsequious. Like people who have to serve under a tyrant.
This is a bit unfair. The freewill theist God certainly cannot be tricked or outwitted. The omniscience possible for the freewill theist model includes the constant, perfect awareness of the state of each person's soul, down to the very core. Rhoda's God is not subject to anything near the limitations of Trelane or Damien.
Open theists like Rhoda stipulate that God knows all possibilities, that God has exhaustive contingency plans, but that stipulation is in tension with open theist hermeneutics.
When open theists prooftext their position from Scripture, the God that emerges from their interpretation of Scripture is a short-sighted, short-tempered deity who has to improvise on the fly.
Rhoda is trying to combine some attributes of a Zeus-like God with a God who shares some attributes of classical Christian theism. That’s an unstable hybrid.
God loves all his image-bearers deeply. It is a significant loss to lose any of his image-bearers to eternal perdition.
Except that Rhoda’s God puts his image-bearers at risk. It’s a bit disingenuous to put them in harm's way, then lament the consequences–especially when that’s a “foreseeable possibility.”
Also, allowing part of world history to unfold according to human and spiritual free-will may result in more suffering and struggle than God would prefer, but He considers that trade-off worth it for the precious prize of the rest of his image-bearers freely and gratefully conforming to His will.
That’s very utilitarian. Crush the few for the good of the many. Sacrifice a few peons for the common good.
How is that more compassionate than what freewill theists find so objectionable in Calvinism?
Again, this is quite unfair. The freewill theist God is not childish and impulsive. As the Bible teaches, God is slow to anger and eager to be merciful. Nothing in the freewill theist model implies that God would be impulsive or vindictive.
That’s a very selective appeal to Scripture. But remember how open theists prooftext their position. Indeed, Rhoda himself appeals to the exegesis of Boyd, Sanders, Pinnock et al (footnote 41).
Very well, then. When open theists prooftext their position, they contrast their hermeneutical approach with classical Christian theism. They don’t make allowance for irony or anthropomorphism. The God they prooftext is a mercurial, high-strung deity. A God prone to wild mood swings. A forgetful God. A God who’s on a learning curve. A God who’s often blindsided by events. Who flies into a rage. Lashes out. Then, after cooling off, regrets his impetuous destruction of human life. A God whom humans have to calm down–like a SWAT team negotiator who’s trying to talk down a hostage-taker with a dead man’s switch.
In sum, a child God. An omnipotent kindergartner. A godlet whose power vastly exceeds his understanding or maturity. Just like Trelane or Damien.
See the Lewis quote above for a better understanding of why God might play a Creation game with creatures whose choices are not predetermined.
To my knowledge, Lewis’s view of God was much closer to classical Christian theism than open theism.
Again, what leads you to think that the freewill God would be easily frustrated, any more than a master chess player would be easily frustrated by a novice, or a martial arts master would be easily frustrated by a new pupil?
Based on neotheist narrative theology.
When God expresses frustration in the Bible, it is only after long periods of God trying to guide His people in the right direction, only to have them disobey again and again.
At which point, according to open theists, he loses his temper and does things in the heat of the moment that he may later regret.
Didn't Edwards argue that the end for which God created the world is that it would be more fitting for God to demonstrate all His attributes, and have sentient creatures bear witness to them, including His great mercy as well as His fearful judgment? John Piper argues that the rationale for everything God does is to maximize His glory.
I’ve often pointed out the limitations of Piper’s view. So has Jeremy Pierce.
On the contrary, I think the freewill theist model is the best conceptualization of God as overflowing goodness.
The God of open theism is a moody, mercurial godling who overflows with many conflicting emotions and rash actions.
On Calvinism, world history as the result of the predetermined choices of creatures is the 'Grand Demonstration' of God's attributes (Jay Adams).
That’s true. However, Jay Adams presents a very simplistic version of the argument.
Bryan Cross version of the atonement
Isaiah 53:10: Yet it was the LORD’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer (NIV);
Isaiah 53:10: Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him; he has put him to grief (ESV).
Bryan Cross on the atonement, speaking of Isaiah 53, says:
Isaiah 53:10: Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him; he has put him to grief (ESV).
Bryan Cross on the atonement, speaking of Isaiah 53, says:
This means that Christ carried in His body the sufferings that sin has brought into the world, and that Christ suffered in His soul over all the sins of the world, and their offense against God. He bore our iniquities not in the sense that God punished Him for what we did, but in the sense that He grieved over them all, in solidarity with us. That is what it means that the Lord laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
Bryan Cross on Sin-Bearing: Put ‘em in a bubble, and let ‘em float away
Bryan Cross says,
Jesus is your bubble. Cast your sins upon him, and it’s like you put them in a bubble, and let them float away!
The Catholic paradigm is so foreign to you, that you have not yet grasped it. But you don’t realize this, so you keep misconstruing it in a Reformed way. I’ll try once again to explain it. In the Catholic doctrine of satisfaction, it is not the case that “the just penalty for sin is directed towards Christ.” Instead the arrow of sacrifice is upwardly directed from Christ in His human nature, not downwardly in the sense of wrath from the Father being poured out on His Son.Then for emphasis (i.e., not only do you “really not understand”, but you “really really really don’t understand”), he says,
The statements in the Catholic Catechism about Christ “bearing our sins” are not talking about bearing them in the sense of being the object of God’s wrath. Christ bears them in His heart as priest, second Adam, and mediator, in love offering Himself to God on our behalf to make reparation for our sins, bearing them in the sense of sorrowing in His human nature over each sin in its offense against God and detraction from His glory. Likewise, the statement, “Jesus atoned for our faults and made satisfaction for our sins to the Father” is talking about atonement and satisfaction in the Catholic sense, not in the sense of Christ being the object of divine wrath.
In Catholic theology, that Christ was numbered among the transgressors does not mean that God saw Christ as a transgressor, or conceived of Christ as guilty in any way. God ordained the events, but men numbered Him among the transgressors: “we esteemed him not,” “we esteemed him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted,” “they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death.”In Bryan’s world, here’s what “atonement” means: Christ is like a bubble for sin. He “bears it” away, as shown in the video:
The problem, however, is that you don’t yet understand the Catholic doctrine, and don’t know that you don’t understand it. So you keep misinterpreting it through your Reformed lenses, and then calling it “what all faithful Catholics believe.” In order for us to make progress, you have to let Catholics tell you what Catholics believe, rather than attempting to tell Catholics what Catholics believe while they keep telling you that that’s not what the Catholic Church believes and teaches. Otherwise, you could never come to see when you have misunderstood it.
Jesus is your bubble. Cast your sins upon him, and it’s like you put them in a bubble, and let them float away!
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Name that Nancy boy!
Are long-haired men effeminate? They always say a picture is worth a thousand words.
I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair
I’m going to comment on TFan’s response:
To avoid repeating pedantic qualifications, in this post “long hair” is shorthand for long hair on men.
Before delving into the details in my response to TFan, I think we need to step back and reconstruct the argument. He has cited 1 Cor 11:14 to disprove the authenticity of the Shroud.
(Keep in mind that I have no opinion about the authenticity of the Shroud.)
So let’s unpack the argument. What assumptions might be feeding into the argument:
i) Either Paul takes the position that long hair (on men) is (a) inherently shame or else (b) culturally shameful.
ii) Assuming (ex hypothesi) that long hair is inherently shameful, TFan can extrapolate from 1 Cor 11:14 to Jesus. If it’s inherently shameful, then 1 Cor 11:14 is a special case of a universal principle.
iii) Even in that case, it wouldn’t be sufficient to disprove the Shroud. After all, crucifixion was shameful. Yet Jesus voluntarily underwent crucifixion. Indeed, the shamefulness of crucifixion was an essential ingredient of the atonement.
iv) If, however, long hair is only culturally shameful, then TFan can’t automatically extrapolate from 1 Cor 11:14 to the case of Jesus. For what’s shameful in one culture or subculture, place or time, may be culturally acceptable in another.
If the shamefulness of long hair is culturally-conditioned, then it’s culturally-variable. Even if long hair is shameful for Gentile Christians in Roman Corinth, this doesn’t entail or even presume that long hair is shameful for a Palestinian Jew.
Dress codes have many variations. What’s shameful for a noblewoman isn’t necessarily shameful for a slave girl. What’s shameful for an aristocrat isn’t necessarily shameful for peasant, fisherman, or carpenter. What’s shameful to wear at a wedding isn’t necessarily shameful to wear in a fishing boat. And hairdos are part of the dress code.
Larry Hurtado on N.T. Wright on Romans 9-11
http://larryhurtado.wordpress.com/2012/04/18/paul-and-israels-salvation-in-dialogue-with-tom-wright/
“I’ve re-read his essay on Romans 9–11 several times now, and my copy is heavily marked with indications of my puzzlement and disappointment at numerous points.”
The association fallacy
The first comes from Mark Shea (trying to defend Cardinal Pell), who tries to associate a literal understanding of Scripture with Atheistic and Fundamentalist advocates (and them with each other). The second comes from my dear friend Steve Hays (trying to respond to something I wrote) who tries to associate a particular argument with naturalism in the form of the non-overlapping magisteria of Stephen Jay Gould and philosophical naturalism with the example of Bart Ehrman. Ultimately, both posts serve a similar rhetorical purpose. "You say X, but that sounds just like the bad guys."
The exceptionally bright reader has already noticed that this post does the same thing, by associating Steve Hays with Mark Shea (or vice versa, if you are in a mirror universe where Mark Shea is a good guy). Of course, I'm employing that device while calling attention to it, for the deliberate purpose of making the point that this sort of rhetoric is really a fallacious appeal.
i) I didn’t commit the association fallacy. To commit the association fallacy, I’d have to argue that TFan’s position is wrong because it’s a position he shares with guys like Bart Ehrman and Stephen Jay Gould. But I didn’t say or suggest that his position is wrong because Gould and Ehrman take the same position.
In fact, I didn’t even say if his position was wrong, much less that it was wrong becomes it’s something he shares in common with unbelievers like Ehrman and Gould.
Rather, I asked if he had the same basic position as they do, and then quoted them to illustrate what I mean.
The position isn’t problematic because they hold it. The position is problematic on its own grounds.
Of course, unbelievers hold problematic positions. That’s what makes then unbelievers. So the two naturally go together.
ii) Finally, there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with invidious comparisons. For instance, Michael Patton and Daniel Wallace recently raised objections to Protestantism which are similar to stock objections raised by Roman Catholics. It’s not fallacious to point out the similarity.
The point of that comparison is to draw attention to a potential inconsistency. Given that Wallace and Patton are Protestant, it’s inconsistent for them to raise typically Catholic arguments against Protestantism.
Likewise, it seems inconsistent for TFan to take the same basic approach to miracles as Ehrman or Gould.
Again, that doesn’t mean he is, in fact, taking the same approach. I was asking a question, and I quoted Gould and Ehrman to explain or define what I meant.
It's surprising that Steve does not know what I mean by what I wrote (in this earlier post). I mean just what I said. I didn't say that by definition supernatural events cannot be historically or scientifically confirmed. I said that "The shroud could be the artifact of a supernatural process, and there is no way that this hypothesis could be completely ruled out, because it is not as though supernatural activity would leave any tell-tale marks."
I know what he said. Indeed, I quoted what he said. And what he said gave rise to my question. For the question is how far he takes that principle.
It seems that Steve's questions are mostly about positions I haven't taken. For example, my post does not take a position regarding whether we can ever infer supernatural agency from experience - my post does not deal with answers to prayers, or whether we can infer that God answered our prayer (whether by supernatural or natural agency).
Likewise, my post does not deal with the cosmological or teleological arguments or the argument from religious experience, or intelligent design theory, or the argument from miracles or the argument from prophecy.
In fact, my post doesn't address those things at all. I may have opinions about all those things, but I don't express my opinion about them in the post.
It’s not unusual to consider if someone’s position on a particular issue is a special case of a more general principle. Indeed, it’s often more efficient to cut to the chase. More efficient to evaluate the underlying principle rather than a particular application of the principle. For his position on the Shroud is no better or worse than the underlying principle by which he judges any case of that sort.
But to clarify, since I should do my best to help my good friend Steve understand what I wrote, methodological naturalism has limits as to what it can establish. Methodological naturalism, also referred to as science, can only provide or eliminate natural explanations of phenomena. Methodological naturalism can (and did) prove that Jesus was dead, and it can (and did) prove that Jesus was alive at a later time. It cannot explain the resurrection itself - the way Jesus got alive, because the resurrection was supernatural. Thus, methodological naturalism could (and does) provide premises that lead one to infer a supernatural resurrection.
If the Shroud had existed in the 1st century (which it definitely didn't), if it had been used to cover Jesus' body (which it definitely wasn't), and if the resurrection had produced the image (which we can be sure it did not) it would have been hypothetically possible for an observer to use methodological naturalism to examine an ordinary shroud beforehand and a shroud with an image on it afterwards. These premises might lead to an inference that the resurrection produced the image. But methodological naturalism cannot explain how such an image was produced, if it was not produced naturally.
Likewise, methodological naturalism could have demonstrated that the linen of the shroud was very ancient linen (in fact, it demonstrated that it was medieval linen), but it could not have demonstrated that the image on the shroud was supernaturally produced. Such would simply have been an inference that people might draw.
All that scientific investigation of the shroud can do is tell us what the shroud is, and how it became what it is through natural processes, if it came to be through natural processes. Much like science could only determine that the risen Jesus was first really dead and then really alive and well, not that he was supernaturally resurrected.
i) I’m afraid that’s still unclear. If methodological naturalism can rule in or rule out natural explanations (“can only provide or eliminate natural explanations of phenomena”), then, by process of elimination, once natural explanations are excluded, that leaves a supernatural explanation as the only remaining explanation. So in principle, methodological naturalism (as defined by TFan) could prove that Jesus was supernaturally resurrected.
ii) I’m also not clear on TFan’s apparent distinction between drawing inferences and proving, determining, or demonstrating something.
a) For one thing, inductive or deductive inferences are the way we normally prove, determinate, or demonstrate something. TFan says methodological naturalism can supply the premises for an argument. Well, as long as the premises are true, and the conclusion validly follows from the major and minor premises, then that’s a sound argument.
b) Is Tfan using “inference” in a weaker sense than “demonstration,” where drawing inferences is probabilistic whereas a demonstration rises to the level of apodictic proof?
But even if that’s what he had in mind, probable explanations are preferable to improbable explanations.
iii) Finally, Tfan seems to distinguish between inferring that something happened or what happened in contrast to how it happened.
Perhaps he’s alluding to his further distinction between different sources of supernatural agency. For instance, he’s suggested that even if the Shroud was supernaturally produced, that doesn’t entail divine production–for it might be demonic production.
However, I assume he doesn’t want to lay down as a general proposition that we can never tell whether or not a miracle was the result of divine or demonic causation. After all, didn’t the Jews accuse Jesus of being a sorcerer–not only in the Gospels, but the Talmud?
Likewise, what if someone said the miracles of Moses, Elijah, Elisha, Peter, and Paul were demonic? How would TFan distinguish his answer to that question from his position on the Shroud?
As I recall, TFan deploys the argument from miracles to disqualify religious claimants who lack miraculous attestation for their message. So he must have some criterion independent of the message itself.
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