Thursday, May 24, 2012
Which came first, the “apostolic succession” or the New Testament?
The second
of Michael Kruger’s three “criteria for canonicity” is “Apostolic origins” of
the New Testament canon. With his use of the term “Apostolic Origins” as a
criterion for canon, Dr Kruger recognizes that the Apostles played a unique
role not only in the development of the canon but in the foundation of the
church.
The message of redemption in Jesus
Christ was entrusted to the apostles of Christ, to whom he gave his full
authority and power: “The one who hears you hears me, and the one who rejects
you rejects me” (Luke 10:16, pg 109).
Roman Catholics
are accustomed to hearing this verse in conjunction with the notion of
“apostolic succession”, the notion that the Apostles somehow passed on this
authority to “the Church”, and that this “succession” of apostolic “authority”
was “handed on” in full measure not only from Christ to the Apostles (which it
was), but from the Apostles to the church that came after them.
And while
the concept of “apostolic succession” really has nothing to do with the growth
and acceptance of the New Testament canon, it’s important to place this into
the context of the overall discussion about the New Testament canon.
The question
often is asked, (as Trosclair
places it in this comment):
the same men who saw the need to
‘fix’ the Biblical canon also saw the need to ‘fix’ the lists of those who were
successors to the Apostles. As a matter of fact, the Apostolic sees were more
important for Irenaeus, Tertullian, Cyprian, etc. for the purpose of combating
the Gnostic sects than was the Biblical canon. This contradicts Cullmann’s
thesis. The Church fathers make it clear that the Scriptures could be twisted
but the Apostolic sees had the sure ‘charism of truth’ which would preserve
orthodoxy.
The short
answer is that the “canonical core” of Apostolic writings was in place long
before Irenaeus (c. 180), Tertullian (c. 200), and Cyprian (c. 250) ever commented
about “lists”. Prior to the time these men wrote, both the Old Testament and
the “canonical core” (of the collected works of Paul and the four gospels) of
the New Testament were actually were the source of orthodoxy and the precursor
of the “rule of faith” (see Canon
Revisited, pgs 133-141). I’ll discuss the specifics of this as I move
forward through the book.
Suffice it
to say that Cullmann’s thesis (“Scripture and Tradition,” reprinted in “The
Early Church,” London: SCM Press LTD © 1956, reprinted ©2011) does account
for this fact, in a way that Trosclair may not have seen in the short
selections I’ve posted from Cullmann’s writings. The writings of the New
Testament came first, (in the form of the “canonical core”, to be sure), and
the “Apostolic sees” came later. Someone may protest that “the canonical core”
wasn’t quite complete, but it was authoritative nonetheless.
Here is how
Cullmann described the apparent unreliability of “oral tradition” in
maintaining “the apostolic witness”, which was regarded to be unique and
unrepeatable, in comparison with later “ecclesiastical” traditions, which were
certainly not binding on the universal church (especially not the church of the
Reformation or the church in our time):
For a long time it has been noted that,
apart from the letters of Ignatius, the writings of the so-called Apostolic
Fathers, who do not really belong to the Apostolic age but to the beginning of
the second century—[1 Clement, Barnabas, the Shepherd of Hermas]—despite their
theological interest, are at a
considerable distance from New Testament thought, and to a considerable extent relapse into a moralism which ignores the
notion of grace, and of the redemptive death of Christ, so central to apostolic
theology. [See Torrance’s “The Doctrine of Grace in the Apostolic Fathers,”
1948].
It has also been noted that the Church
Fathers who wrote after 150—Irenaeus and Tertullian—although chronologically
more remote from the New Testament than the authors of the first half of the
century, understood infinitely better the essence of the gospel. This seems paradoxical, but is explained
perfectly by that most important act, the codification of the apostolic
tradition in a canon [a “canonical core”], henceforward the superior norm of
all tradition.
The Fathers of the first half of the
century wrote at a period when the writings of the New Testament already
existed, but without being vested with canonical authority, and so set apart.
Therefore they did not have any norm at their disposal, and, on the other hand,
and on the other hand, they were already too far distant from the apostolic age
to be able to draw directly on the testimony of eye-witnesses. The encounters of Polycarp and Papias with
apostolic persons could no longer guarantee a pure transmission of authentic
traditions, as is proved by the extant fragments of their writings.
But
after 150 contact with the apostolic age was re-established through the
construction of the canon, which discarded all impure and deformed sources of
information. Thus it is confirmed that, by subordinating all subsequent
tradition to the canon, the Church once and for all saved its apostolic basis.
It enabled its members to hear, thanks to this [“canonical core”], continually
afresh and throughout all the centuries to come the authentic word of the
apostles, a privilege which no oral tradition, passing through Polycarp or
Papias, could have assured them (96).
The writings
of Irenaeus (c. 180), Tertullian (c. 200), and Cyprian (c. 250), came much
later than this “canonical core” of Paul’s writings and the Gospels. Cullmann
goes on to note that, of course “scripture needs to be interpreted” and “the
church ought to feel responsible for this interpretation” (97).
However, if the notion of “apostolic sees” was
helpful in combating the Gnostic heresies of the day, it must be recognized
that this was a still-later development (late second century), and the church
at large ought in no way to be bound by what really was an “interpretive
hermeneutic” of the second century. It was by no means a “structural component” of
“the Church that Christ founded”. An apologetic tactic that worked in the
context of Gnostic heresies by no means subjects the later church to that
hermeneutic and tactic.
And comments
by late second and third-century writers ought by no means to provide the basis
for a governmental structure that clearly became not merely open to abuse, but
which itself became a form of abuse, and desperately needed to be changed.
This is
precisely where the heart of the conflict between Rome and the Reformation
lies. Once the notion of “apostolic succession” is put into perspective as a
mechanism for addressing heresies (and not a mechanism by which the “authority”
of the apostles was “handed down” to later popes and bishops), it clears the
way for us to understand that the Reformers rightly cast off Roman authority
when they did.
The
Reformation holds that the role and “office” of Apostle was unique and
unrepeatable. Rome holds, too, to some form of lip service that the “office”
was unrepeatable, but somehow, the authority made its way to “bishops” (and
from Peter to “the successor of Peter”), as somehow “structural” to the church
– an “ontological reality” of the church. “Bishops must be in charge”, and not
only are they “in charge”, but they somehow have interpretive mastery over the
texts of Scripture.
Cullmann
goes on to say that, in its acceptance of core canonical works of the New
Testament as normative (based on the apostolic testimony therein), it is
tacitly making the agreement that it “does not impose on future generations to
take as a starting-point and as a norm of their interpretation of the same text
the decision that it feels bound to take, but it remains conscious of the
superiority of the scripture as the immediate testimony of the divine
revelation to the interpretation which it feels compelled to give, and which
can only be a derivative testimony…” (97).
So, the
concept of “apostolic succession” within the “apostolic sees” did not, for the
church of this period, constitute a “structural element” of the church, in the
same way that the “apostolic testimony” (or “apostolic tradition”) was
normative and foundational for the church.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
The invisible gardner
The initial problem with the problem of evil is that God Himself is inscrutable. Think for a minute about someone being absolutely independent. Is it any wonder then that there are things that this inscrutable God does that our minds are unable to contain? Paul even tells us that God's ways and judgments are beyond our ability to scrutinize them (Rom. 11:33f.).
That, of course, was the lesson that Job had to learn. We are privy to more of what is going on with Job than even Job was so it is sometimes too easy to be hard on him. But remember Job wants an answer to his own personal problem of evil. And how does God answer Job?
Job 40:1-10:
The LORD said to Job: "Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him? Let him who accuses God answer him!" Then Job answered the LORD: "I am unworthy-- how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth. I spoke once, but I have no answer-- twice, but I will say no more." Then the LORD spoke to Job out of the storm: "Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me. "Would you discredit my justice? Would you condemn me to justify yourself? Do you have an arm like God's, and can your voice thunder like his? Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor, and clothe yourself in honor and majesty.
In the midst of His suffering, Job decided it was time for inscrutability to stop. And so he tells God that it's time to give answers. There needs to be a God-justifying reason for what is happening to Job, and in the world generally.
And how does God respond to Job? Job, you've forgotten one crucial thing - I am God, and besides Me, there is no other. Inscrutability lies at the feet of Almighty God, and therefore there are things that we simply will not understand - things, as Job says, "too wonderful for me, which I did not know."
The problem with that example is that Job's situation is not inherently inscrutable. The Book of Job is a classic case of dramatic irony. Thanks to the prologue (Job 1-2), the audience knows something the characters (including Job) do not. And the dramatic irony is also the source of the dramatic tension.
Kinda like those horror films where the audience knows the identity of the psychopathic killer while the unsuspecting characters only find out when it's too late.
The prologue doesn't give us a general explanation for evil, but it does explain Job's situation. And it furnishes a possible explanation for some analogous situations.
So our response to Flew's parable, and to others who demand that God bow to their inquisition, is simply this: Whatever God's ultimate reasons for evil in this world, far from being unconcerned, He came down, and, at the costliest expense imaginable, as the only innocent one who ever lived, was put to death on a cross. Therefore, those who put their trust in Him can say with the apostle Paul, that whatever God's reasons, in spite of the sheer inscrutability of His ways, "I consider that the suffering of this present age is not worthy to be compared to the glory that will be revealed in us." (Romans 8:18) Because He who knew no evil, came down, and became evil on our behalf. In that way, by way of Theophany, he, personally and painfully, resolved the problem of evil for eternity. Do we really need to know more than that?
That doesn't solve the problem of evil. Rather, it only takes the problem back a step. For it fails to explain why there's a fallen world in the first place. Given a fallen world, you can appeal to redemption. But why was the world in a condition needed to be redeemed?
After all, Oliphint thinks that God predestined the Fall. So the atheist will ask, why did God predestine the Fall?
Commenting on the same post, a friend of mine made some additional observations.
The second aspect to Flew's parable is more revealing. In writing of his rationale for the parable, Flew says:
Someone tells us that God loves us as a father loves his children. We are reassured. But then we see a child dying. His Heavenly Father reveals no obvious sign of concern. Some qualification is made. Just what would have to happen to entitle us to say 'God does not love us' or even 'God does not exist'? What would have to occur to constitute for you a disproof of the love of, or of the existence of, God?(1)
Oliphint is simply mistaken here. The problem of evil is not Flew's "rationale for the parable". Rather, evil is one of many possible ways that God's existence should be seen to be falsifiable. But since the religious believer doesn't regard evil, even the worst evil, as falsifying God's existence, this is evidence that the claim 'God exists' or 'God loves me' is not falsifiable. Combined with the falsificationist criterion of meaning, the conclusion is that 'God exists' is meaningless. The parable is not about "the problem of evil" as this is traditionally discussed in philosophy of religion.
Flew's conclusion was that the God of Christianity is dead; He has died the death of a thousand qualifications. And it was the problem of suffering and evil that motivated this conclusion.
The motivation behind Flew's parable is "the problem of evil."
Again, this is mistaken. In the gardener parable, Flew is not offering an argument against God's existence from the existence of evil. The very idea is absurd.
Oliphint seems to think that Flew is offering a case for the nonexistence of God. He's not. He's offering a case for the notion that the claim 'God exists' is a meaningless claim. In Flew's view, 'God exists' doesn't even have the dignity of being the kind of thing that can be true or false.
Why won't God amputate heels?
My post on amputees provoked a number of predictably uncomprehending objections from village atheists:
Before commenting on the specifics, let’s back up a bit.
The presupposition of the amputee argument is that God doesn’t heal amputees because:
i) Unlike other reported miracles, you can’t fake limb regeneration
ii) Ergo, there is no miracle-working God
However, this intersects with the argument from evil. If God has a morally sufficient reason not to heal amputees, then you can’t validly infer God’s nonexistence from amputees whose prayers go unanswered.
And the assumption that typically underlies the argument from evil is that we can imagine better possible worlds than this world. God is culpable for failing to create a better world, since that option was available to him.
And this, in turn, is related to the notion of a best possible world. However, I think that’s simplistic.
Now there may be philosophical versions of the argument from evil that don’t require this assumption, but I’m discussing the popular argument from evil. In the popular version, an atheist studies the actual world and imagines all the improvements he could make if he were God. Surely an omniscient, omnipotent God could do a better job than this?
But is that really so obvious? Take those eugenic scenarios about a utopian future where everyone is handsome, healthy, wealthy, and young. Like teen dramas where everyone has perfect teeth. Every student drives a Porsche. Every girl is busty and every boy has six-pack abs. A world designed by a cosmetic surgeon.
In some respects that’s a better world than a world in which many people are homely, sickly, poor, and elderly. But is the utopian vision truly ideal?
A world in which everyone is handsome, healthy, wealthy, and young is a world deficient in character-building virtues. No one has to share. No one has to sacrifice. A Nietzschean world that’s intolerant of the weak. Disdainful of losers. A world of full of fair-weather friends.
If you fall behind, you will be left behind. No one will go back for you. Buff bodies and hollow souls.
I’m not presenting that as a stand-alone theodicy. I’m just questioning the glib assumption that underlies the popular argument from evil.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Liberal ethnocentricity
BTW, one of the ironies of Rachel Evans' now infamous post is how provincial and blindly ethnocentric her vision of Christianity really is. Compare her parochial perspective with how it appears beyond the bubble of her chic coterie:
http://www.anglican-nig.org/Pri_obj_Homo.htm
http://www.anglican-nig.org/Pri_obj_Homo.htm
Plain sense or just plain nonsense?
Without detracting one iota from DeYoung’s piece, I want to use it to drive home an important truth which we need to meditate on carefully. The force of DeYoung’s scriptural argument depends on whether or not he can demonstrably prove that, contrary to the person he is responding to (someone called Daniel Heminiak), “the Bible really really calls homosexuality a sin.” And he’s right, it does.
BUT – the Bible only “really really calls homosexuality a sin” if we believe what it says! That is, if we employ the kind of hermeneutics which let’s the words say what they say without re-interpreting them by use of a non-literal hermeneutics.
Now some of you might recall that in my debate with Steve Hays I constantly referred him to “the plain-sense,” making repeated pleas for what the text says in its context, and providing many clear examples where later OT writers took earlier writers literally. Hays’s persistently refused any interaction with these examples, or with my rebuttals of his interpretations of some passages in the Prophets, and ducked and weaved while questioning what “the plain-sense” and “face-value” mean.
This last example, part of which was used by Steve Hays to demonstrate a “New Exodus” motif which pointed to fulfillment beyond the “land,” is helpful because once we see how “land” is used in verse 13 (which Steve did not quote), we can understand what he means by “land” being returned to in verse 15.
Did Hays yield to what the Bible says here? No. Like most others today he continued either questioning it or else avoiding it! This is standard operating procedure among many evangelicals.
Several issues:
i) Henebury contents himself with repeating his stale arguments while disregarding my extensive counterarguments. I might as well be conversing with a prerecorded message.
ii) I’ve also analyzed the arguments of dispensational scholars like Robert Thomas, Craig Blaising, and Harold Hoehner.
iii) Actually, you don’t win an argument with a homosexual apologist by simply appealing to the “plain sense” of Scripture. For instance, Robert Gagnon doesn’t merely invoke the “plain sense” or “face-value” meaning of Scripture. Rather, he conducts painstaking exegesis of his prooftexts, and carefully deconstructs interpretations to the contrary.
iv) Let’s take some examples of groups who appeal to the “plain sense” or “face-valuing” meaning of Scripture:
a) Open theists/Mormons
Open theists take at “face value” Biblical statements about God changing his mind, expressing surprise, regret or disappointment.
And Mormons are in a position to take literally various statements about God’s physical or humanoid features.
b) Annihilationists
They take “literally” statements about the eschatological “destruction” of the lost.
c) Sacramentalists
Lutherans, Catholics, Anglo-Catholics et al. appeal to the “plain sense” of Jn 3:5, Jn 6, Tit 3:5 &c. to prove the real presence and baptismal regeneration.
d) Geocentrists
They take at face-value Biblical statements about the immobility and centrality of the earth in relation to the sun, moon, and stars.
e) Arminians/universalists
They take "literally" statements about the atonement for "all" or the "world."
f) Errantists
They appeal to flat-earth prooftexts, which they take literally. The solid dome, subterranean hell, &c.
They say the chronology of the fourth day plainly contradicts the chronology of the first day. They say the chronology of Gen 1 plainly contradicts the chronology of Gen 2. They say the flood account contradicts itself on the number of animals (one pair or seven?). They say the chronologies of Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles are mutually contradictory. They say the genealogies of Christ (in Matthew and Luke) are mutually contradictory. They say the chronologies of John and the synoptic gospels are mutually contradictory. They say the resurrection accounts are mutually contradictory. They say the two accounts of Judas’s death are mutually contradictory. They say Daniel plainly mispredicted the demise of Antiochus. They say Jesus plainly mispredicted the Parousia. They say the Bible makes contradictory statements about the visibility of God, as well as contradictory statements about the mutability of God.
Henebury is emulating the tactics of liberals and cultists who preemptively discredit orthodox, Bible-believing scholars who patiently correct their naïve interpretations and facile attacks on Scripture.
v) According to the “literal/plain sense/face-value” meaning of Gen 17, the Abrahamic covenant is exclusive to circumcised male posterity of Abraham.
Does Henebury think that only ethnic Jews are party to the Abrahamic covenant? Does the Abrahamic covenant exclude Christian gentiles?
vi) Apropos (v), the terms of the Abrahamic covenant are hardly confined to land-promises. For inheritance is contingent on circumcision. The duration of the Abrahamic covenant is commensurate with the duration of circumcision, as the mandatory rite of initiation. The perpetuity of the land-promises is inseparable from the perpetuity of circumcision.
Is that Henebury’s position?
Artful dodgers
How to win a culture war and lose an evangellyfish
By Rachel Held-Up Evans
When asked by The Fagin Group what words or phrases best describe Christianity, the top response among Americans ages 16-29 was “anti-theft.” For a staggering 91 percent of non-Christians, this was the first word that came to their mind when asked about the Christian faith. The same was true for 80 percent of young churchgoers. (The next most common negative images? : “judgmental,” “hypocritical,” and “too involved in politics.”)
In the book that documents these findings, titled Dude, Where's My Wallet?, Oliver Twist writes:
"The stealing issue has become the big one, the negative image most likely to be intertwined with Christianity’s reputation. It is also the dimensions that most clearly demonstrates the faith to pickpocketing people today, surfacing in a spate of negative perceptions: judgmental, bigoted, sheltered, right-wingers, hypocritical, insincere, and uncaring. Outsiders say [Christian] hostility toward the kleptomaniacs...has become virtually synonymous with the Christian faith.”
Later research, documented in Twist's You Burgled Me, reveals that one of the top reasons 59 percent of thieving adults with a Christian background have left the church is because they perceive the church to be too exclusive, particularly regarding their poaching friends. Eight million peculators have left the church, and this is one reason why.
In my experience, all the anecdotal evidence backs up the research.
When I speak at Christian colleges, I often take time to chat with students in the cafeteria. When I ask them what issues are most important to them, they consistently report that they are frustrated by how the Church has treated their pilfering friends. Some of these students would say they most identify with what groups like the Christian Stick Up Network term “Side A” (they believe relationships based on blackmail have the same value as relations based on honesty and generosity in the sight of God). Others better identify with “Side B” (they believe it is more blessed to give than to receive). But every single student I have spoken with believes that the Church has mishandled its response to highway robbery.
Most have close embezzling and swindling friends.
Most feel that the Church’s response to shoplifting is partly responsible for high rates of depression and suicide among their bamboozling friends, particularly those who want to be "Christians" who defraud others.
Most are highly suspicious of “ex-con” ministries that encourage men and women with covetous desires to be generous toward others in spite of their feelings.
Most feel that the church is complicit, at least at some level, in anti-burglar bullying.
And most...I daresay all...have expressed to me passionate opposition to legislative action against thieving and stealing.
“When evangelicals turn their anti-theft sentiments into a political campaign,” one college senior on her way to graduate school told me, “all it does is confirm to my fleecing friends that they will never be welcome to steal in the church. It makes them bitter, and it makes me mad too. This is why I never refer to myself as an evangelical. Ugh. I’m embarrassed to be part of that group.”
I can relate.
When Tennessee added an amendment to the state constitution banning theft (even though it was already illegal in the state), members of my church at the time put signs in the yard declaring support for the initiative. From my perspective, the message this sent to the entire community was simple: EVERYONE BUT CHEATS WELCOME.
Dan and I left the church soon afterwards.
Which brings me to North Carolina and Amendment One.
Despite the fact that the North Carolina law already holds that larceny in the eyes of state is illegal, an amendment was put on the ballot to permanently ban filching in the state constitution. The initiative doesn’t appear to change anything on a practical level, (though some are saying it may have unintended negative consequences on charitable organizations), but seems to serve primarily as an ideological statement
....an expensive, destructive, and impractical ideological statement.
Conservatives in the state—who you would think would be more opposed to tampering with constitutions—supported the amendment, and last night it passed. Religious leaders led the charge in support of the amendment, with 93-year-old Billy Graham taking out multiple ads in publications across the state supporting the measure.
As I watched my Facebook and Twitter feeds last night, the reaction among my friends fell into an imperfect but highly predictable pattern. Christians who know about outlaws and gangsters like Pancho Villa, Jesse James, Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, and the recent El Loco were celebrating. "Christians" who wanted to be the next Billy the Kid or at least Robin Hood were mourning. Reading through the comments, the same thought kept returning to my mind as occurred to me when I first saw that Billy Graham ad: You’re losing us.
I’ve said it a million times, and I’ll say it again...(though I’m starting to think that no one is listening):
My generation is tired of the culture wars.
We are tired of fighting, tired of vain efforts to advance the Kingdom through politics and power, tired of drawing lines in the sand, tired of being known for what we are against, not what we are for.
And when it comes to grand theft auto, we no longer think in the black-and-white categories of the generations before ours. We know too many wonderful people from the community of artful dodgers to consider brigandage a mere “issue.” These are people, and they are our friends. When they tell us that something hurts them, we listen. And Amendment One hurts like hell.
Regardless of whether you identify most with Side A or Side B, (or with one of the many variations within those two broad categories), it should be clear that amendments like these needlessly offend bandits and pirates and muggers, damage the reputation of Christians, and further alienate young adults—both Christians and non-Christian—from the Church.
So my question for those evangelicals leading the charge in the culture wars is this: Is it worth it?
Is a political “victory” really worth losing millions more young tricksters to cynicism regarding the Church?
Is a political “victory” worth further alienating people who identify as nickers, ransackers, circumventors, or other such flimflammery?
Is a political “victory” worth perpetuating the idea that evangelical Christians are at war with housebreakers, heistmakers, and kidnappers?
And is a political “victory” worth drowning out that quiet but persistent internal voice that asks—what if we get this wrong?
Too many Christian leaders seem to think the answer to that question is “yes,” and it's costing them.
Because artful, dodgy, evangellyfish "Christians" are ready for peace.
We are ready to lay down our arms.
We are ready to stop waging war and start helping "cleaners" pull a fast one.
And if we cannot find that sort of hoax or inside job within the Church, I fear we will look for it elsewhere.
I'm indispensable
This post is getting a lot of buzz.
I’ll quote some representative sections, then make a few comments:
Later research, documented in Kinnaman’s You Lost Me, reveals that one of the top reasons 59 percent of young adults with a Christian background have left the church is because they perceive the church to be too exclusive, particularly regarding their LGBT friends. Eight million twenty-somethings have left the church, and this is one reason why.
We are tired of fighting, tired of vain efforts to advance the Kingdom through politics and power, tired of drawing lines in the sand, tired of being known for what we are against, not what we are for.
And when it comes to homosexuality, we no longer think in the black-and-white categories of the generations before ours. We know too many wonderful people from the LGBT community to consider homosexuality a mere “issue.” These are people, and they are our friends. When they tell us that something hurts them, we listen. And Amendment One hurts like hell.
Regardless of whether you identify most with Side A or Side B, (or with one of the many variations within those two broad categories), it should be clear that amendments like these needlessly offend gays and lesbians, damage the reputation of Christians, and further alienate young adults—both Christians and non-Christian—from the Church.
So my question for those evangelicals leading the charge in the culture wars is this: Is it worth it?
Is a political “victory” really worth losing millions more young people to cynicism regarding the Church?
Is a political “victory” worth further alienating people who identify as LGBT?
Is a political “victory” worth perpetuating the idea that evangelical Christians are at war with gays and lesbians?
And is a political “victory” worth drowning out that quiet but persistent internal voice that asks—what if we get this wrong?
Too many Christian leaders seem to think the answer to that question is “yes,” and it's costing them.
Because young Christians are ready for peace.
We are ready to lay down our arms.
We are ready to stop waging war and start washing feet.
i) Her complaint amounts to blackmail. Threatening to boycott church unless the rest of us capitulate.
ii) Rachel, God doesn’t need you. You need God, not vice versa. God can get along just fine without you.
iii) Rachel, the church doesn’t need you. You’re not nearly as important as you think you are. If fact, if folks like you leave the church, that’s a winnowing process. That purifies the church. Given your attitude, the church will be much improved by your absence. The sooner you leave, the better.
iv) The church needs God, not you. To survive and prosper, the church must remain true to God.
v) Rachel, if you think you’re indispensable, I suggest you spend some time visiting the local cemetery. It might surprise you to find out how little difference you made.
American exceptionalism
rogereolson says:
May 22, 2012 at 12:18 pm
Ah, but you forget…American Exceptionalism. We are not bound to the ethical codes that bind all other societies and countries because we’re special.
I wonder if Olson is really that ignorant. To my knowledge, American exceptionalism involves the following theses:
i) There are certain universal human rights. A transnational ethical code.
ii) At this time in history, America occupies a privileged position. We enjoy unique influence and power to shape world events–for the better.
iii) With privilege comes responsibility. That has foreign policy implications. Rather than exploiting our hyperpower position for our national aggrandizement, America has a moral obligation to extend universal human rights to oppressed peoples around the globe, so that they can share the benefits which we enjoy.
Here’s a more detailed exposition:
This is not a matter of defending American exceptionalism, but defining American exceptionalism. To my knowledge, Olson’s definition is a complete travesty of what the phrase actually means. American exceptionalism is idealistic, not cynical. (Indeed, it might be idealistic to a fault.)
We can debate the pros and cons of American exceptionalism. But we need to begin with an accurate and honest definition of the concept.
"Why won't God heal amputees?"
An unbeliever has thrown out the following challenge to Christians. Ten argumentative questions.
Before dealing with the specifics, let’s make a general observation. It’s impossible to make the world better in some way without making the world worse in other ways. That principle is illustrated by science fiction scenarios in which a time-traveler tries to make the world a better place by changing the past. But every time he makes one thing better, he makes another thing worse. Every improvement carries a collateral downside. He can never strike a perfect balance, in which everything is better and nothing is worse.
Every life touches other lives. Every life has consequences. Humanly speaking, every life has unintended consequences.
Suppose medical science discovers the cure for cancer. In some respects, a world without cancer is a better world. However, some cured cancer patients will end up committing crimes. A world in which no one dies of cancer is a world with more rapes, murders, domestic violence, and so on. Certain evils will occur as a result of a cancer-free world that wouldn’t occur if some patients died of cancer.
To take another example, suppose I have kids, and they have kids, and their kids have kids, continuing for several generations. Odds are, one of my decedents will accidentally kill someone in a traffic accident. Eliminating tragedies upstream can result in tragedies downstream. You’re trading one set of tragedies for another set of tragedies.
Suppose ER physicians could see ahead. Suppose they could anticipate the long-term consequences of every life they save. Should they still save every life, even if–by saving the life of the patient, they effectively take the life of someone else who dies as a result of saving the patient’s life?
Now you might say, What about a world with no evil? But that has tradeoffs, too. An unfallen world has no evils at the expense of eliminating the second-order goods you have in a redeemed world. So there’s both loss and gain.
1. Why won't God heal amputees?
i) The question is ambiguous. Is the question Why won’t God heal any amputee or every amputee?
ii) Craig Keener has cited documented cases of body-part regeneration. Cf. Miracles: The Credibility of the New Testament Accounts. So there’s prima facie evidence that God heals some amputees (or the equivalent).
iii) God will heal every Christian amputee at the resurrection of the just.
iv) If God healed every amputee, would that be a better world? It would be better in some respects. However, a world in which God healed every amputee would also contain some evils not present in a world with amputees.
Some healed amputees will use their regenerated limbs to commit crime. Or some amputees will have kids or grandkids who commit crimes. Or accidentally kill someone. As long as they were amputees, their prospects for marriage were dim. As healed amputees, they are now far more eligible. That can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on the long-term repercussions. Indeed, it can be a little of both.
2. Why are there so many starving people in our world?
That's a variant of the first question. So the answer is the same. A world in which no one starves is better in some respects, but worse in others. Suppose no Muslim ever starves to death. As a result, you have more suicide-bombers, honor-killings, female genital mutilation, &c.
In a world where no one starves to death, more people survive to outlive their loved ones, die in a nursing home, succumb to Alzheimer’s. Every improvement is offset by something worse.
There is no best possible world. There are different combinations of good and evil. Likewise, there are goods that exclude other goods.
3. Why does God demand the death of so many innocent people in the Bible?
According to the Bible, everyone is a sinner.
4. Why does the Bible contain so much anti-scientific nonsense?
That question assumes what it needs to prove.
5. Why is God such a huge proponent of slavery in the Bible?
Once again, that question assumes what it needs to prove.
6. Why do bad things happen to good people?
i) In a fallen world with common grace, people are a combination of good and evil.
ii) Many people are “good” only so long as it doesn’t cost them anything. Likewise, many people would do evil if they could get away with it.
iii) In a godless universe, there’s no such thing as right and wrong, good and evil.
7. Why didn't any of Jesus' miracles in the Bible leave behind any evidence?
A number of his miracles did leave behind evidence–testimonial evidence.
8. How do we explain the fact that Jesus has never appeared to you?
i) If I said Jesus appeared to me, an unbeliever would dismiss that as a hallucination.
ii) I can learn far more about Jesus from the Bible than I can from a one-time apparition.
iii) My maternal grandfather never appeared to me. He died before I was born. I only know about him from relatives. So what? Should I doubt the existence of my maternal grandfather because I never met him? Should I discount what relatives told me about him?
iv) Jesus will appear to me (1 Jn 3:2).
9. Why would Jesus want you to eat his body and drink his blood?
As a Zwinglian, I deny the premise of the question.
10. Why do Christians get divorced at the same rate as non-Christians?
i) They don’t. That’s an urban legend.
ii) Anyway, that’s a diversionary question. The divorce rate among Christians is irrelevant to Messianic prophecy, the Incarnation, Resurrection, &c.
The commercialization of space
It's big out there. Don't think we're going to junk it up. Think, instead, of the paper companies, whose business interests lie in re-planting the trees that they cut down, and almost farming the forests.
Canon Revisited: A Bit of Housekeeping
I’ve been
working through Dr Michael Kruger’s Canon
Revisited, (Michael J. Kruger, “Canon Revisited: Establishing the Origins
and Authority of the New Testament Books”, Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books © 2012).
My intention is to have something like a chapter-by-chapter summary that can
easily be referred to. This is information where, it is true, Protestants
generally are weak. Let’s be like John the Baptist: “Make his paths straight”.
My greater
hope, though, is that you’ll buy the book, read it, and internalize it.
Just to keep
track of things, here are links to previous posts taken from the work:
There are
four more chapters to discuss:
Apostolic Origins of the Canon
The Corporate Reception of the Canon:
The Emergence of a Canonical Core
The Corporate Reception of the Canon:
Manuscripts and Christian Book Production
The Corporate Reception of the Canon:
Problem Books and Canonical Boundaries
These last four chapters are where the
details are discussed, the “tumultuous history of the canon”.
My hope is
to work through these carefully over the coming weeks; the details in these
four chapters, as messy as they are, show the hand of God working in a mighty
way to take control of his own Word, his own message.
None of
this, I don’t think, is new. I’ve seen portions of what Dr Kruger writes here
and there – in Oscar Cullmann, Herman Ridderbos, and Greg Bahnsen, among
others. But what’s here is where all the details come together, in one place –
history and doctrine and epistemology – to give Protestants a single focal
point on the New Testament canon, a comprehensive response to the objection
that Protestantism is somehow undermining itself in the acceptance of the New
Testament canon.
Sola
Scriptura is in the Bible.
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