http://calvinistinternational.com/2012/05/07/protestantism-and-liberalism/
HT: John Bugay
Tuesday, May 08, 2012
First Century Fragment from Lost Epistle of Paul to the Galatians Found
Dr Daniel
Wallace has posted a new audio at his blog site, revealing a bit more about
the first century fragments that have been found. Special thanks to Brill
Publishing for releasing this first-ever look at the Lost Epistle from Paul to
the Galatians.
This is only a fragment, but this is what we found, but we
are greatly blessed by this new word from Scripture:
I am astonished that you are so quick
to assume that the prima facie contradiction that seems to be being preached by
the Judaizers is in fact an actual contradiction. You must have humility toward
the Tradition of the Judaizers. The appearance of an actual contradiction, in fact,
is due to your own ignorance or misunderstanding….
Before certain men came from James,
I applauded Cephas for eating with the Gentiles. But when they arrived, he
began to draw back and separate himself from the Gentiles because he was afraid
of those who belonged to the circumcision group. But I took him aside like a
brother, and said Brother, we ought never to assume as part of our theological
methodology that a prima facie contradiction within the Tradition is an actual
contradiction. Out of humility toward the Tradition, we instead assume as a
working hypothesis that the appearance of a contradiction is due to our own
ignorance or misunderstanding. So from a Catholic point of view, if we have at
hand an explanation that integrates the apparently conflicting pieces of
evidence, we already have a good reason to accept it rather than conclude that
there is an actual contradiction… The other Jews joined him and Barnabas as
being led into all truth. I said, “We who are Jews by birth and not sinful
Gentiles know that sometimes a person is not justified by the works of the law,
but sometimes they are also saved by the works of the law, if they obey the
voice of God in their consciences. In this way, in virtue of our “both/and”
theology, all the many more may be saved …
Of course, these are merely fragments, but we are blessed to have discovered such a rich first-century resource. Dr. Michael J. Kruger has taken
the position that, given that these fragments could not be admitted to the
canon at this late date. “To state the obvious, the church cannot respond
(positively or negatively) to a book of which it has no knowledge. Christ’s
promise that his sheep will respond to his voice pertains only to the books
that have had their voice actually heard by the sheep (John 10:27, pgs 94-95).
Roman Catholic view of Eucharist not only contradicts, but violates Hebrews “ἐφάπαξ”
While I was
looking up something else, I came across this passage from Oscar Cullmann’s “The
Christology of the New Testament” and I thought I’d pass it along, as it really
is central to the differences between Protestants and Roman Catholics:
Before we examine more closely this
correspondence between the perfection of the High Priest and the perfection of
the brothers, we must first consider an aspect of Jesus’ high priestly work
which … indicates the chasm between the theology of Hebrews and all Gnosticism
and mythology. We think of the once-for-all
character (ἐφάπαξ) of the high priestly work. It stands in express
opposition to the necessity of the continual repetition of the Old Testament priest’s
work. We see again in this respect how Jesus not only fulfils the Old Testament priesthood, but also overcomes all its
inadequacies.
The writer of Hebrews emphasizes the ἐφάπαξ
so strongly in order to demonstrate this opposition. He describes a final and
decisive act which in its very uniqueness brings salvation to men. This
uniqueness points primarily to the idea that the act of salvation will not be
repeated by Jesus the High Priest himself, but it also suggests that the
brothers cannot repeat the act, despite the solidarity of the High Priest with
their humanity. This ‘one time’ means ‘once for all time’: ‘…he entered once
for all into the Holy Place, taking not the blood of goats and calves but his
own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption’ (Heb. 9:12); ‘…he has appeared
once for all at the end of the age to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself’
(9:26); ‘…we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus
Christ once for all’ (10:10). Corresponding to ‘once for all’ we read in 10:14,
‘for all time’ (εἰς τὸ διηνεκὲς). The saving character of this historically
unrepeatable fact is decisive and unending. What the High Priest Jesus
completed on the human level is therefore the centre of all events, the decisive
midpoint of time. Every cultic event from now on is concentrated on the
historical event of this High Priest’s human life, lived at one single time,
with its one crowning climax in his atoning death.
Christian worship is therefore possible
only on the basis of unreserved respect for this ἐφάπαξ. As I have previously
pointed out, Protestants are incorrect in describing the Catholic mass as a ‘repetition’
of the sacrificial act of Jesus. Catholic theologians have always rejected this
interpretation. They speak rather of ‘making
present’ Christ’s act. But does not also this description of the mass violate
the ἐφάπαξ of Hebrews—above all when one designates the mass a ‘sacrifice’? It
is just the sacrifice as such which cannot be made present in the way it is
supposed to happen in the Catholic mass.
The danger of falling back to the level
of Old Testament priesthood arises when the high priest must always present the
sacrifice anew. Christian worship in light of that ‘one time’ which means ‘once
for all time’ is possible only when even the slightest temptation to ‘reproduce’
that central event itself is avoided. Instead, the event must be allowed to
remain the divine act of the past time where God the Lord of time placed it—at
that exact historical moment [when it occurred]. It is the saving consequences
of this atoning act, not the act itself, which become a present event in our
worship. The Lord present in worship is the exalted Kyrios of the Church and the world, raised to the right hand of
God. He is the risen Lord who continues his mediating work on the basis of his
unique, completed work of atonement. The words εἰς τὴν ἐμὴν ἀνάμνησιν (in
remembrance of me, 1 Cor 11:24. 25) describe the connection between his
crucifixion and the celebration of the Lord’s supper. This means ‘in
remembrance of that which I have completed, on the basis of which I now dwell among
you as the resurrected Lord’.
This was one
of the things that struck me most, when I read through the New Testament at age
19. Roman Catholic doctrine on the Eucharist, arguably its most central
doctrine, is at odds with what the writer to the Hebrews is not only saying
clearly, but emphasizing. This is a clear case of biblical perspicuity vs Roman
Catholic obfuscation.
Look at this
contradiction through the Bryan
Cross paradigm, through the Roman
Catholic Hermeneutic:
From a Catholic point of view, we never
assume as part of our theological methodology that a prima facie contradiction
within the Tradition is an actual contradiction. Out of humility toward the Tradition,
we instead assume as a working hypothesis that the appearance of a
contradiction is due to our own ignorance or misunderstanding. So from a
Catholic point of view, if we have at hand an explanation that integrates the
apparently conflicting pieces of evidence, we already have a good reason to
accept it rather than conclude that there is an actual contradiction…
Jesus
had a word for this, too: “Thus you
nullify the word of God by your tradition that you have handed down. And you do
many things like that” (Mark 7:13).
Monday, May 07, 2012
The sun behind the shadow
When Calvinists, honoring God’s self-revelation in Scripture, say God predestined everything that happens, including the Fall, and other evils, Arminians are livid. They think that’s blasphemous.
But to say God stands behind evil is just another way of saying good stands behind evil. Behind evil, no matter how bad it gets, lies good. Ultimate good. Supreme good.
On this view, evil isn’t ultimate. On this view, evil contains the seeds of its own destruction. If good underlies evil, then good blossoms from evil. A blessing in disguise.
But on the Arminian view, it’s evil all the way down to bedrock. Evil as its own source. Evil as its own ultimate. You have two ultimates: good and evil. God doesn’t backstop evil.
On this view, evil is evil. Nothing more and nothing less. Pure, undiluted evil. That’s all it is. All it ever was or will be. It has no meaning, reason, purpose. No redeeming value. No compensatory good within itself. Just a bottomless pit.
Paul Newman’s son died of a drug overdose. Years later, Newman said: “It’s an event that never gets better. It gets different but it never gets better.”
Not surprisingly, Newman hit the bottle after his son died. It never gets better. Merely bad in a different way.
A shadow that tails you wherever you go. Darkens everything you do.
Roger Olson’s entire life has been overshadowed by his mother’s death when he was young. And that’s because he can only see it as an unmitigated evil. He can never thank God. Never see the sun behind the shadow.
That’s the Arminian view of evil. If we can’t see God behind evil, we can’t see good behind evil. In that sense, we never get beyond it. Behind evil is evil. Through-and-through.
Whatever hope there is can only be in spite of evil, not because of evil. Evil itself is a dead loss. Incurable. Intractable. At most, we can replace it with something good.
The weakness of “the living voice” in the 2nd century, and the integrity of the New Testament canon
This blog post is in response to some comments over at Green
Baggins. Trosclair
wrote:
Correct me if I’m wrong, but it
appears that your method would require us to find out, with some level of
certainty (more than just a plausible hypothesis), whether a particular epistle
or gospel was written by an Apostle before we accepted its inspiration. Given
such a method, each Christian would have to investigate the Apostolic origin of
each book of the NT and then determine his/her own canonical list.
I’ve repeated this several times, but Remember Kruger’s
premise. He is not writing a work that will prove to skeptics that the
Christian New Testament canon is what Christians say it is [the “self-authenticating”
model he outlines]. He is rather arguing that, given the process by which the
canon developed, Christians do have adequate grounds for believing the “self-authenticating”
model.
Trosclair wrote:
Assuming such a method, my personal
canonical list would probably be about half of the New Testament’s 27 books. If
we wish not to rely on the 2nd century witnesses, we must rely on current
scholarship or our personal intuitions. I don’t put much faith in either one of
these. Do you find this method acceptable? What other method would you
recommend?
As you might expect, there is a discussion of this. First of
all, it’s not the case that Kruger doesn’t rely on the 2nd century
witness. The point of Cullmann’s treatment is not that the 2nd
century witness was unreliable. It was that “oral tradition” as a bearer of the
“Apostolic witness” was unreliable. And much in the fashion of a game of “telephone”,
the early church realized that a fixed written source was needed in order to
become reliable. That’s the point of the creation of the canon. After that,
theologians like Irenaeus and Tertullian are considered to be far more reliable
theologians than some of the Apostolic fathers.
For example, it should be noted that the second century writer
Papias said “I did not think that information from books would profit me as
much as information from a living and abiding voice” (cited from Michael W.
Holmes, “The Apostolic Fathers”, 3rd edition, Edited and Translated
by Michael W. Holmes, Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic ©2007, “Fragments of
Papias”, pg 735).
Cullmann puts forth this argument about Papias and the
weakness of “the living voice”:
1. For Paul, the paradosis (“oral tradition”), in so far
as it refers to the confession of faith and to the words and deeds of Jesus,
has a parallel in the Jewish concept of paradosis.
2. This tradition relates to the
direct apokalypsis of the Lord to the
Apostles. That is, the office of the Apostles was unique because they provided
unique eyewitness testimony to the life of Christ.
3. This “Apostolic tradition” was the definitive, eyewitness testimony of
the Apostles. This “tradition” lived and died with the apostolic office. No
other source had the eyewitness authority of the Apostles. The later church
did maintain an “ecclesiastical tradition”, or “traditions of the church”. There
was a clear difference in authority between the “Aposotlic tradition” and the “ecclesiastical
tradition”. However, that did not prevent the church, at a later date, from
mixing the two.
4. The development of the canon was
a conscious decision on the part of the earliest church, born from the
consciousness of the heresies spinning out of control, to establish a superior
written norm, and to stake out the boundaries of orthodoxy and heresy.
Cullmann makes the case that the canon of the New Testament
became fixed, as a necessity, because of the damage that was being inflicted by
various Gnostic heresies: “oral” tradition was no longer reliable because it
was becoming an admixture of too many things. The only reliable “apostolic
tradition” was that which had been written down by the apostles and their
associates during the lifetimes of the apostles.
This is the place to speak about
the establishment of the canon by the Church of the second century. This again
is an event of capital importance for the history of salvation. We are in
complete agreement with Catholic theology in its insistence on the fact that the Church itself made the canon. We
even find in this fact the supreme argument for our demonstration. The fixing
of the Christian canon of scripture means that the Church itself, at a given time, traced a clear and definite
line of demarcation between the period of the apostles and that of the Church,
between the time of foundation and that of construction, between the apostolic
community and the Church of the bishops, in other words, between apostolic and
ecclesiastical tradition. Otherwise, the formation of the canon would be
meaningless.
We must recall the situation that
led the Church to conceive the idea of a canon. About the year 150 there is
still an oral tradition. We know this from Papias, who wrote an exposition of
the words of Jesus. He tells us himself that he used as a basis the viva vox and that he attached more
importance to it than to the writings. But
him we have not only this declaration of principle; for he has left us some
examples of the oral tradition as he found it, and these examples show us well
that we ought to think of an oral tradition about the year 150! It is entirely
legendary in character. This is clear from the story that Papias reports
about Joseph Barsabbas, the unsuccessful candidate, according to Acts 1:23 f.,
for the post of twelfth disciple rendered vacant by Judas’s treason. Above all
there is the obscene and completely legendary account [in Papias] of death of
Judas Iscariot himself.
Regarding this, Papias says: Judas
walked about in this world a sad example of impiety; for his body having
swollen to such an extent that he could not pass where a chariot could pass
easily, he was crushed by the chariot, so that his bowels gushed out.
The period about 150 is, on the one
hand, relatively near to the apostolic age, but on the other hand, it is
already too far away for the living tradition still to offer in itself the
least guarantee of authenticity. The oral traditions which Papias echoes arose
in the Church and were transmitted by it. For outside the Church no one had any
interest in describing in such crude colours the death of the traitor. Papias was therefore deluding himself when
he considered viva vox as more
valuable than the written books. The oral tradition had a normative value in
the period of the apostles, who were eye-witnesses, but it had it no longer in
150 after passing mouth to mouth (Cullmann, 88-89).
What Cullman relates here is that the church (as reported by
Papias) had greatly valued the living voice of the Apostles. But they
recognized the thing that we (Protestants) have all along been saying: the
“living voice” is not a reliable transmitter, after a point. Over time, the
value of this “living voice” had seriously degraded.
* * *
Regarding the second portion of Trosclair’s comment, in
response to modern scholarship, Kruger asks, “Are Christians rational to
continue their belief in the canon in light of these claims of modern
[critical] scholars? He says, “several considerations suggest that the answer is
yes”. Paraphrasing for brevity:
1. There are many other scholars outside the “critical
consensus” who affirm the apostolicity of these New Testament writings. So much
so, one wonders whether the critical consensus can be called a “consensus” in
the first place. These scholars have made an an impressive historical case for
the apostolic origins of the New Testament books.
2. Modern historical methodologies used to reach these “critical”
conclusions rest on on-Christian and enlightenment assumptions. “It comes as no
surprise then, that its conclusions are at odds with traditional belief”
3. Kruger argues that not only is there a lack of reasons to
accept the certain critical positions, but there are compelling reasons to
think they are false.
4. See also my
previous post on the whole topic of the possibility that some New Testament
works were pseudepigraphical.
Trosclair wrote:
Of course the 2nd century witnesses
themselves would disagree with your rejection of the “Roman Catholic view”.
You don’t know this to be the case. The “Roman Catholic view”
is actually, still, a work in progress. I’ve noted this in my blog post on “The
Roman Bait-and-Switch on [Holy] Orders”.
The 2nd century church developed an apologetic
which included succession – it is clear from the writings of even Roman Catholic
writers like Raymond Brown and Francis Sullivan [not to mention Protestant
writers] that “succession” itself was a 2nd century development. As
a second century development, it is no way “instituted by Christ”. And I
outlined the implications of this.
Citing the Roman Catholic theologian Edward Kilmartin: “In
Trent’s Decree on Holy Orders, Canon 6 states that there is in the Church ‘a
hierarchy instituted by divine ordination, which consists of bishops, presbyters
and ministers.’” The Vatican II formulation steps back from this and notes, ““Christ
the Lord” … “set up a variety of
offices”. And other writers have further clarified this: “Biblical and
patristic studies make clear that historically
a gap occurs at the point where it has been claimed ‘the apostles were careful
to appoint successors in’ what is called ‘this hierarchically constituted
society,’ specifically ‘those who were made bishops by the apostles . . .,’ an
episcopate with an ‘unbroken succession going back to the beginning.’ [citing
Lumen Gentium 20]. For that, evidence is lacking…”
Trosclair wrote:
Cullmann is a fine source, I agree.
But his reasons for accepting the canon yet rejecting the Apostolic authority
found in the 2nd century Church rests on his assumption that Christ was
ignorant about his own Church. Even the greatest of scholars can base their
ecclesiology on what is a faulty assumption, i.e., Christ’s ‘ignorance.’
I haven’t read all of Cullmann, but you’ll have a hard time
convincing me that he argued for this. More likely, given that he was arguing
against Bultmann, who was asking questions about, and making comments on, what
Jesus actually knew. But this is the place for a whole ‘nother discussion.
On the possibility that Pseudonymous and Pseudipigraphical works made it into the New Testament Canon
D.A. Carson and Douglas Moo, in their “Introduction to the
New Testament” (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan ©2005), discuss issues of
pseudonymity and pseudipigraphy (“the practice of ascribing written works to
someone other than the author”), as these issues have been brought up in
connection with the canon of the New Testament. They say, “although ‘pseudonymity’
and ‘pseudepigraphy’ are today used almost synonymously, only the latter term
has been traced back to antiquity…. By what criteria do scholars decide that a
document makes false claims regarding its authorship?—its bearing on New Testament interpretation arises
from the fact that a majority of contemporary scholars hold that some of the
New Testament books are pseudonymous. The list of ostensibly pseudonymous books
varies considerably, but a broad consensus would label Ephesians and the
Pastoral Epistles (attributed to Paul) pseudepigraphical, as well as 2 Peter
(attributed to Peter). Some would add other books: Colossians, 2 Thessalonians,
1 Peter (337).
Here are a couple of working definitions:
Pseudonymity: Works that are
falsely named.
Pseudipigraphy: Works that are
falsely attributed.
Literary Forgeries: Works written
or modified with the intent to deceive.
Anonymity: No formal claim is made
to authorship (e.g., Matthew, John, and Hebrews are all anonymous).
Even though some New Testament writings are said to be
pseudepigraphical (and that case is not proven), it is clear that many scholars
consider all of the potentially pseudepigraphical works in the NT to be
authentic. On a case-by-case basis, there is very good attestation for each of
the individual books. For
example:
• The Pastoral Epistles (1 and 2 Timothy and Titus): While these are
held by some to have been written pseudonymously, according to Thomas
Schreiner, recent commentators who have defended their authenticity include
J.N.D. Kelly, Joachim Jeremias, Donald Guthrie, Gordon Fee, George Knight III,
Philip Towner, L.T. Johnson, and William Mounce.
• Ephesians: Harold Hoehner traces sources historically and, as
Carson and Moo say, “his detailed work demonstrates that [Raymond] Brown’s
assertion that 70-80% of scholars have adopted the view that this letter was
not written by Paul is impressively mistaken.”
• 2 Peter: According to Scrheiner, “if one were inclined to doubt the
authenticity of any letter in the New Testament, it would be 2 Peter. … Indeed,
Petrine authorship is still the most credible position,” and he begins with 16
pages of analysis to say why this letter is authentic (“1, 2 Peter, Jude”, The
New American Commentary, Vol 37, Nashville, TN: Broadman and Holman Publishers ©2003,
pgs 260-276).
Schreiner goes further: “I am persuaded that evidence is
lacking that any canonical document is actually pseudonymous” (pg 273). He
cites R.L. Donelson, “Pseudepigraphy and Ethical Argument in the Pastoral
Epistles,” saying “there is no evidence that pseudonymous documents were ever
accepted as authoritative.”
* * *
Some of what I’m about to cite from Carson and Moo has a
direct relation to the process of canonization, that is, determining whether or
not a writing was to be included in the Canon of the New Testament.
“About the middle of the second
century AD, pseudonymous Christian works began to multiply, often associated
with a great Christian leader. We are not here concerned with works that
purport to tell us about esteemed Christian figures without making claims as to
authorship, but only with those that are clearly pseudepigraphical. Some of
these are apocalypses (e.g., the Apocalypse of Peter, the Apocalypse of Paul);
some are gospels (e.g., Gospel of Peter, Gospel of Thomas, which is really no
gospel at all, but mostly a collection of sayings attributed to Jesus). Several
are letters claiming to be written by Paul: 3 Corinthians, Epistle to the
Alexandrians, Epistle to the Laodicians. The latter was almost certainly
written to provide the document mentioned in Colossians 4:16. It is a brief and
rough compilation of Pauline phrases and passages (primarily from Philippians).
The largest collection of pseudonymous epistles from the early period of the
church’s history is the set of fourteen letters of correspondence between the
apostle Paul and Seneca. They are referred to by both Jerome (De vir. ill. 12)
and Augustine (Epist. 153). The Muratorian Canon (c. AD 170-200) refers to the
Epistle to the Alexandrians and the Epistle to the Laodiceansas “both forged in
Paul’s name (Mur. Can. 64-65) and thus will not allow them to be included (“Introduction
to the New Testament,” 341).
Regarding the process of determining the Canon, the case may
be pressed further. According to Schreiner:
Paul specifically criticized false
writings in his name in 2 Thess 2:2 and ensured the authenticity of the letter
in 2 Thess 3:17 . The author of Acts of
Paul and Thecla was defrocked as bishop even though he wrote out of love
for Paul (Tertullian, De Bapt. 17).
In addition, Gospel of Peter was
rejected in A.D. 180 in Antioch because the author claimed to be Peter and was
not. Serapion the bishop said, “For our part, brethren, we both receive Peter and
the other apostles as Christ, but the writings which falsely bear their names
we reject, as men of experience, knowing that such were not handed down to us”
(Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. 6.12 .1-6 ).
Evidence that early Christians accepted pseudepigraphic documents as
authoritative Scripture is completely lacking. Some argue that Acts of Paul and Thecla and Gospel of Peter were only rejected for
deviant teaching, not for pseudepigraphy. But both of the texts [cited] say
otherwise, specifically indicting the writers for falsely ascribing the
writings to another. Bauckham sees a parallel in Hebrews where the theology
dreives from Paul but a disciple wrote it. The parallel is not apt, bof no
author is named in Hebrews. The Muratorian Canon rejected Letter to the Laodicians and Letter
to the Alexandrians because they were suspected to be forgeries. Origen
says that he rejects Doctrine of Peter since it was “not included among the
books of the Church and … not a writing of Peter nor of any one else inspired
by the Spirit of God. (Schreiner, 270-271).
Most recently, Michael Kruger wrote:
Typical arguments [for pseudonymity
in NT books] from literary style, vocabulary, and the like tend to be
inconclusive, subjective, and, in the end, unpersuasive. It seems that there
are many factors that could explain such stylistic differences other than a
pseudonymous author, such as the author writing at a different time in his
life, under different circumstances, and with different goals and different
audiences, even drawing on earlier preformed traditions. All of these factors
woud imply different vocabulary, varied themes, and a distinctive authorial
tone. Moreover, there is always the possibility that authors used an amanuensis
at some points and not others—which could be an additional explanation of
stylistic differences. (Michael J. Kruger, “Canon
Revisited: Establishing the Origins and Authority of the New Testament Books”,
Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books © 2012).
Carson and Moo say, “all sides agree ... that pseudepigraphy
was common in the ancient world.” They also cite Donelson, saying “‘No one ever
seems to have accepted a document as religiously and philosophically
prescriptive which was known to be forged. I do not know a single example.’
This is virulently the case in early Christian circles” (342).
Sunday, May 06, 2012
Called to inferno
- RefProt
April 9th, 2012 9:56 pm :Krister Stendahl, J.D.G. Dunn, N.T Wright, Mark Seifrid, Peter O’Brien, Seeyon Kim, etc,.Guess what all these guys who have written on STJ (from varying perspectives) have in common?I understand you believe this is what the creed teaches, but what evidence do you have to substantiate this? Then you say,None of the passages you have quoted require the interpretation you present. Many Catholic scholars would disagree. For example, William Dalton, SJ, has written the definitive treatment of 1 Peter 3:18-22 and disagrees that this in anyway refers to the descensus.Finally, you say,You don’t treat Piper’s primary text in Luke, you assert that Jesus couldn’t mean what Piper says. There is no compelling reason to accept your argument. Lexically, Louw and Nida say, “this word [is] generally equated with ouvrano, or ‘heaven.’” παραδείσῳ typically means Garden and in the NT is used with reference to the kingdom of God (harkening back to the Garden of Eden). From the biblical and apocryphal literature you do not find the distinctions you are making regarding παραδείσῳ. - RefProt April 9th, 2012 10:08 pm :Adrienne,Taylor did not mention this for some reason but the reason to “edit” the Creed is because there is discussion about the originality of the phrase in the creed. There is widespread doubt in the academic community regarding the authenticity of the “descensus” view. That does not mean that it was not there, but there are some (and there are Catholics among their number) who believe that it was added to the Creed at a later date.Popular articles are available here:http://www.christianitytoday.com/ch/asktheexpert/nov15.htmlThis quote from Britannica, “This phrase was probably the last to be added to the creed. Its principal source in the New Testament was the description in I Pet. 3:18–20 of Christ’s preaching to the spirits in prison. ”Here is an article in favor of the position which relates some of the historical ambiguity (and mentions Grudem):http://www.etsjets.org/files/JETS-PDFs/35/35-1/JETS_35-1_091-099_Scaer.pdf
Anglo-Mormonism
Paul Owen April 13th, 2012 11:41 am :
One point which Grudem and Piper fail to account for is John 20:17, where Jesus says on Easter Sunday, “I have not yet ascended to the Father.” In fact, we know from Acts 1:1-11 that Jesus did not ascend to the Father for a period of 40 days. Yet he promised the repentant thief that he would be with him that day in Paradise (Lk. 23:43). Obviously then, Paradise is not “heaven” (Acts 2:34), if by heaven we mean the place of God’s throne and Jesus’ present rule at God’s right hand (Heb. 1:3), from whence he makes intercession for us (Rom. 8:34).
This means we must distinguish between Paradise and Heaven (or the highest heaven) at least. In Luke 16:19ff. we have a description of the Bosom of Abraham where Lazarus went after his death. While this could be the “paradise” Jesus spoke of, the term Paradise is not used in Luke 16, and the imagery employed there does not echo the Garden of Eden. Furthermore, Paul identifies “Paradise” with the Third Heaven (2 Cor. 12:2-3). If Paul is using the term Paradise to speak of the same place Jesus spoke of on the cross, then it would appear that Paradise is a lower realm of heaven, not the place of Christ’s enthronement.
The term Hades is broadly equivalent to “the realm of dead spirits,” and is an appropriate term for describing the abode of all souls beneath the highest heavens (Eph. 1:20-21), such as where Jesus accompanied the thief after he died, as well as the “lower regions” where Christ set free the captives (Eph. 4:8-9) and visited the spirits in prison (1 Pet. 3:19) during the 40 days between his resurrection and his ascension.
Anglo-Mormon Paul Own fails to draw an elementary distinction between the intermediate state and the final state. When Jesus and the thief went to “heaven,” on Holy Saturday, their souls went to heaven.
But when Jesus ascended to “heaven” after the Resurrection, that was Jesus in his glorified state. Jesus embodied. So Owen is equivocating.
Birth defects
The first point immediately confirmed in my heart was theological: God did not do this to my child. God is not the author of evil. God does not terminate sweet lives with a pulmonary embolism. Pulmonary embolisms are a result of the bent nature of this world. As Ann kept repeating, "God is not the problem; he is the solution."
One primary reason I am not a Calvinist is that I do not believe in God's detailed control of all events. Why? First, because I find it impossible to believe that I am more merciful or compassionate than God. Second, because the biblical portrait shows that God is pure light and holy love. In him there is no darkness, nothing other than light and love. And third, the words, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away," from the lips of Job (1:21), are not good theology. According to Job 1, it was not God but the Devil who took away Job's children, health, and wealth. God allowed it to happen, but when Job said these words, as the rest of the story shows, he was not yet enlightened about the true nature of the source of his calamity and God's actual will for his life. God's will for him was for good and not for harm.
The beginning of "good grief" starts with the premise of a good God. Otherwise, all bets are off. If God is almighty and malevolent, then there is no solace to be found in him. If God is the author of sin, evil, suffering, the Fall, and death, then the Bible makes no sense when it tells us that God tempts no one, that God's will is that none should perish but have everlasting life, and that death is the very enemy of God and humankind that Jesus, who is life, came to abolish and destroy.
The phrase, "It's all God's will," is cold comfort.
i) In this post I’m not going to pounce on Witherington. He’s suffered an irreparable and desolating loss. So I’d never initiate an argument with him over what he wrote. I make allowance for his state of mind.
ii) That said, I’m quoting his statement because, if you don’t cite a specific example from a respected spokesman, you’re often accused of burning a straw man. Quoting him documents the fact that I’m not caricaturing contemporary Arminianism. Roger Olson has made many similar claims. I'm simply using Witherington's statement to illustrate a position that seems to be gaining ground in contemporary Arminian circles.
iii) I’m not going to comment on his prooftexts. That’s an argument for another day.
iv) Instead, I’d like to ask a question:
What do Arminians tell kids with serious birth defects?
I have in mind birth defects like spina bifida, Autism, Down syndrome, Prader-Willi syndrome, Fragile X syndrome, blindness, deafness, phenylketonuria, hypothyroidism, adrenoleukodystrophy, Rett syndrome, Ebstein’s anomaly, pulmonary stenosis, muscular dystrophy.
Suppose a Calvinist has two kids: one in perfect health, but the other has a serious birth defect. The Calvinist can tell them that God made them both. God had a good reason for giving one child a serious birth defect. Your life is meaningful. Even your genetic condition is meaningful. It’s ultimately for the best.
God could make a different you, but it wouldn’t be a better you. You are good the way you are, right now.
God was able to make you healthy, but even a birth defect can be a source of good, a kind of good that wouldn’t exist if God hadn’t made you this way.
If you die in Jesus, God will heal you, but having gone through this ordeal makes you a better person than if you didn’t have to cope with this ordeal. And it can be a blessing to those around you.
Whether God cures you in this life or the next, you are just what God meant you to be at this point in his plan for your life. You’re not a cosmic accident. You’re not a mistake.
But an Arminian parent, who shares the viewpoint of Olson and Witherington, can’t tell his child that God made him that way. He can’t tell him that God made him that way for a wise and worthwhile purpose.
If a child suffers from a serious birth defect, that’s the result of the Fall, or autonomous natural laws.
God made your healthy brother the way he is, but God didn’t make you the way you are. You’re the defective product of a defective process.
If God is only the source of the “good” stuff, while the “bad” stuff (i.e. natural evil) comes from something or someone other than God (sin, evolution, the fall, a stochastic process), then you didn’t come from God the way your brother did. At most, only a part of you–the "good" part–came from God–unlike your brother. You’re not as good as your brother. God didn’t do as much with you. The rest of you may even be Satanic. You didn't come from God–unlike your healthy brother.
Both Calvinism and Arminianism trace birth defects to the fall, but for Arminianism, that’s as far back as it goes. And nowadays, some Arminians deny the fall of Adam. They chalk it up to evolution. Or the laws of nature.
Columbo
As a kid I used to watch Columbo. Like many detective dramas, the show had a gimmick. After you got used to the gimmick, the show lost some of its charm. You knew exactly what to expect.
The gimmick involved a studied contrast between appearance and reality. Columbo, with his jalopy, slovenly, disheveled appearance, rambling delivery, and absentmindedness, seemed to be a blithering idiot. As a result, murder suspects underestimated him.
This is a classic case of dramatic irony, where the audience knows something a benighted character does not.
One of the better episodes (“By Dawn’s Early Light”) I remember had Patrick McGoohan (of The Prisoner fame) play Col. Rumford, commandant of a military academy, as Columbo’s wily antagonist.
Rumford’s first impression of Columbo was the antithesis of everything that Rumford represented. Rumford was a model of efficiency, whereas Columbo was a stumblebum. Or so it seemed.
However, upon subsequent encounters, Rumford caught on to the fact that this was just an act. In reality, Columbo was a formidable opponent. At that point it became a test of wits.
When I read open theists interpret the Bible, they remind me of the clueless murder suspects in Columbo who didn’t realize–until it’s too late–that Columbo’s demeanor was a ruse which lulled them into letting their guard down.
Few things are funnier than watching somebody who thinks he’s smarter than he is talking down to somebody else who really is smarter, but plays dumb and makes the other guy look like a fool by drawing him ever deeper into the coils of an argument he can’t win. Exposing his arrogance, ignorance, and stupidity.
Indeed, some people who overestimate themselves never figure out that they’ve been taken for a ride. The performance is for the benefit of onlookers.
The divine ironist
Today’s post is a sequel to this post:
Here I’m presenting an alternative framework.
I. Divine accommodation
i) Traditionally, Christians regard these depictions as cases of divine accommodation. God comes down to our level. Since we can’t relate to God on his level, he relates to us on our level–like a grownup talking to a child–or a specialist explaining technicalities to a layman.
ii) Open theists regard that as special pleading. An ad hoc excuse that disregards the plain sense of the text. An interpretation (or reinterpretation) driven by philosophical theology.
However, that’s not a fair characterization. Although traditional Christian theology was influenced to some degree by Greek philosophy, so is open theism. As Jeremy Pierce points out:
Now some classical theists who are philosophers will also give philosophical arguments for classical views about God. It might also be that some of them give arguments like the one you give. But that doesn’t mean it’s their basis, and it doesn’t mean that anyone giving such an argument is a classical theist. The neo-Platonists clearly were not, as Augustine would be quick to correct you on.
Open theists don’t derive their philosophical view from Plato as much as from Aristotle’s sea battle passage (an argument that I think Aristotle ends up rejecting when he shows its ridiculous consequences as he discusses it). I also see its antecedents in the ancient world in Alexander of Aphrodisias and Cicero.
Augustine explicitly contrasts his view of divine being with that of the neo-Platonists. That’s in fact the main place where he thinks they get it wrong. He regularly speaks of how they fail to capture some crucial elements of God when they say things that he does think amount to gesturing in the right direction of God. They just don’t get it remotely right, as he sees it (and I would agree).
iii) Moreover, the Bible itself ascribes lofty attributes to God, like omniscience, omnipotence, eternity, and immutability. To take a few examples:
God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should change his mind. Has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken, and will he not fulfill it? (Num 23:19).
He who is the Glory of Israel does not lie or change his mind; for he is not a man, that he should change his mind (1 Sam 15:29).
Before the mountains were born
or you brought forth the whole world,
from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
(Ps 90:2).
25 In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth,
and the heavens are the work of your hands.
26 They will perish, but you remain;
they will all wear out like a garment.
Like clothing you will change them
and they will be discarded.
27 But you remain the same,
and your years will never end.
(Ps 102: 25-27)
I make known the end from the beginning,
from ancient times, what is still to come.
I say, ‘My purpose will stand,
and I will do all that I please.’
(Isa 46:10).
Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account (Heb 4:13).
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows (Jas 1:17).
So when Christian theologians interpret certain passages anthropomorphically, they are still using a Biblical frame of reference.
iv) And this isn’t merely an inference from Scripture, although there’s nothing wrong with logical inferences. We also have concrete examples in Scripture. For theophanies (e.g. Isa 6; Ezk 1) present a paradigm-case of divine accommodation. Since God is imperceptible in himself, he reveals himself to human perception through symbolic manifestations.
Of course, open theists have their own prooftexts. My immediate point is that it’s deceptive to suggest that classical Christian theism has no biblical basis, and has to import its distinctive tenets from outside Scripture.
v) Furthermore, the Bible was revealed in a pervasively pagan culture with many humanoid or even bestial gods. Yahweh stands in contrast to the false gods of the pagan pantheon.
vi) What’s more, if God were the God of classical Christian theism, how would such a God interact with human beings? Wouldn’t he have to come down to our level and relate to us the way Yahweh is depicted in Scripture? Isn’t that what we’d expect from Scripture if classical Christian theism is true?
So I think the traditional explanation is fine as far as it goes. But it can be supplemented.
Saturday, May 05, 2012
The Walking Dead
This is a deliberately meandering post, but it has a common thread.
Roger Ebert recently updated his list of the greatest films of all time:
What’s striking, but not surprising, about his list is that most of the films on the list don’t seem to be very entertaining. Rather, these are generally “serious” films. Artistic films.
If he were asked to compile a list of his favorite films, rather than the greatest films, I suspect the list would be quite different. And that raises a question: should great art be dull and difficult? Is it wrong to judge a film by how enjoyable it is to watch?
If he was stranded on a desert island, would he rather have Apocalypse Now or That Man From Rio in his satchel?
Mind you, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with art that’s intellectually stimulating. That stretches us.
But at the end of the day, this is fiction. These aren’t real people. And even when it’s based on a “true story” (e.g. historical novel), these aren’t people who are a part of your life or mine.
Now, in fairness to art, one function of art is to vicariously broaden our experience. My life is just a sliver, a random sampling of human existence. Plays, movies, novels, and TV dramas give us a chance to imaginatively live many lives within a single lifetime. And that extends to things that don’t even happen in real life–like time-travel, or magical worlds, or your counterpart in an alternate universe.
And I think that’s a legitimate expression of the human imagination. But it’s still fictitious. So that limits how seriously we should take it.
Again, one theoretical justification is that fiction, even though it’s not real life, is about real life. Life-like. And so we can analogize to our own experience.
And I think that’s valid, too. But a vicarious experience is still vicarious. So that still limits how seriously we should take it.
Speaking for myself, my TV and movie viewing is basically recreational. A way to unwind after a long day. When I’m too tired to do anything more important, but not tired enough to go to bed. A way to slow the mind down.
For instance, I’ve seen a few episodes of The Killing (an AMC crime drama). But it’s not something I view regularly, and that’s because it’s just not very entertaining. What it does, it does well, but it’s like a rainy day that never ends.
Now that might strike some people as frivolous criticism. It’s not the sort of drama I’m supposed to enjoy.
But it’s not like I have a duty to watch it. I really don’t care if a fictitious character is murdered. I really don’t care if her fictitious murderer is apprehended. And why should I spend my time watching depressed imaginary characters in depressing imaginary situations? Is this remedial punishment for the viewer? Is it supposed to be virtuous to put yourself through all that?
Which is a build-up to The Walking Dead. Here’s a tribute to The Walking Dead:
Honestly, I find this a bit pretentious. Like an elaborate effort to justify a guilty pleasure. I don’t think it’s wrong to view The Walking Dead. I just don’t think that requires you to make it more important than it really is.
The zombie genre ranges along a continuum. Some are cheap spatter films. Some are black comedies. And some are serious explorations of the human condition.
The zombie genre also fudges on some practical issues. Do zombies eat their victims alive, or do they turn their victims into zombies? It can’t be both. Likewise, wouldn’t zombies starve to death after a few months?
I’ve seen some episodes of The Walking Dead, but I’m not a regular viewer. For one thing, it’s no pleasure to watch. Again, someone might object that that misses the point, but for me, that is the point. It’s not that significant.
In addition, you don’t have to view many episodes to get the moral of the story. So it’s fairly repetitious. Variations on a common theme.
But from a Christian standpoint, The Walking Dead raises some hypotheticals that are useful to reflect on.
i) Do you, or should you, keep on living when you have nothing left to live for? Does the survival instinct prevail, or does loss of hope result in losing the will to live?
What would happen if you suddenly lost everyone who made life worthwhile? What would happen if your future was utterly bleak?
Losing the will to live doesn’t mean you die. Short of suicide, the body may keep you alive for years, even if you’re just going through the motions.
ii) Speaking of suicide, that’s an issue in zombie drama. If it’s just a matter of time before the zombies get you, is it preferable to take your own life? It’s one narrow escape after another. Sooner or later your luck will run out.
iii) It’s also a study in how people cope, and disintegrate, under constant fear. You’re never safe. You can never let your guard down. The danger is unrelenting. You never again enjoy a good night’s sleep. You’re wakeful. You have nightmares.
Of course, human beings can’t maintain a state of heightened alertness. It wears you down.
iv) In addition, it’s a study in how the survivors get along. Total strangers are thrown together. Do they bond, or do they turn on each other from the unbearable strain?
This is fictitious, but there are real-world counterparts, like POW camps.
v) Finally, a zombie drama can also model those pragmatic dilemmas that ethicists like to toy with. Do you risk the few for the many, or do you risk the many for the few?
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