Scroll down to the analysis:
http://wenatcheethehatchet.blogspot.com/2015/10/peter-leithart-and-carl-trueman-on-this.html
Monday, October 12, 2015
Lutheranism and Assurance
I left a comment on this post arguing against both Calvinist and Arminian views of assurance. It seems that the comment was not allowed past moderation. (EDIT: Sometime after this post appeared, the comment was allowed through moderation.) Whatever the reason, I'll repost the essence of my comment here, for posterity's sake. Of course, I'll only be defending Calvinism here, and not Arminianism. They'll have to defend themselves.
The author writes that,
But given the epistemological brush the author chose to paint with, the same applies to Lutheranism. Here's how: So the idea is that a Calvinist cannot tell anyone, himself or herself included, that Christ died for them. Why? They don't know "with 100% certainty"(the redundancy is in the original) that they, or those they speak to, are elect. So let's grant this. The Lutheran is in the same position. How? The Lutheran claims to know with certainty that Jones (who could even be the Lutheran him or herself) is saved. But how does the Lutheran claim to know this? Why, it's because it's entailed by the Lutheran view of the atonement. But then, the Lutheran must know that the Lutheran view of the atonement is true "with 100% certainty." But how does the Lutheran know that? I dare say that a healthy dose of the noetic effects of sin, coupled with the fact that the Lutheran's epistemic peers (those who are appraised of the same set of facts as is the Lutheran, takes an opposing position out of good faith, is just as "smart" as the Lutheran, etc.) disagree with him, is enough to throw a wet blanket on that idea!
This reply is different than the typical Calvinist reply. Typically, Calvinists respond to this sort of argument by countering that the Lutheran can't be assured, confident, know with certainty, etc., that the Lutheran will persevere until the end, so it's a wash—that is, there's no real advantage for Lutheranism here. My objection is different. I'm meeting them on their own ground. I'm claiming that if philosophical or epistemological certainty is required to know that Christ died for some particular person, the Lutheran doesn't have that. And that's because the Lutheran could only have that if the Lutheran knew the basis for making that judgment "with 100% certainty." And the Lutheran can't, of course, have that—hence, the Lutheran can't, of course, know that Christ died for him or her or anyone "with 100% certainty."
P.S. I say this because I think it's right, not because I'm bitter; but even if I were bitter, the argument would stand all the same. ;)
P.P.S. In other words, if Calvinists have to worry about the "possibility" that they're not elect, Lutherans have to worry about the "possibility" that Calvinism is correct (i.e., it's not *impossible*).
The author writes that,
Calvinism cannot preach consistently to the sinner that Christ died and rose for them until after they are certain that the person is truly saved. But in Calvinism, how does one know who is truly saved? The only way one can make a judgment on this is by looking for a totally changed life. But then, who is to say that the person is not deceived if they fall away and reject Christ later in life? Calvinism desires to uphold monergism, but due to the doctrine of limited atonement, they rip the heart out of the Gospel. There is no surety of Christ for you no matter what in Calvinism. How do they know that Christ died for them? How can they objectively know this, with 100% certainty, if Christ only died for the elect? Pretty much they have to be certain they are elect. And in Calvinism, without a 100% certainty in Word and Sacrament and the atonement, they must look to their own faith to an extent.
But given the epistemological brush the author chose to paint with, the same applies to Lutheranism. Here's how: So the idea is that a Calvinist cannot tell anyone, himself or herself included, that Christ died for them. Why? They don't know "with 100% certainty"(the redundancy is in the original) that they, or those they speak to, are elect. So let's grant this. The Lutheran is in the same position. How? The Lutheran claims to know with certainty that Jones (who could even be the Lutheran him or herself) is saved. But how does the Lutheran claim to know this? Why, it's because it's entailed by the Lutheran view of the atonement. But then, the Lutheran must know that the Lutheran view of the atonement is true "with 100% certainty." But how does the Lutheran know that? I dare say that a healthy dose of the noetic effects of sin, coupled with the fact that the Lutheran's epistemic peers (those who are appraised of the same set of facts as is the Lutheran, takes an opposing position out of good faith, is just as "smart" as the Lutheran, etc.) disagree with him, is enough to throw a wet blanket on that idea!
This reply is different than the typical Calvinist reply. Typically, Calvinists respond to this sort of argument by countering that the Lutheran can't be assured, confident, know with certainty, etc., that the Lutheran will persevere until the end, so it's a wash—that is, there's no real advantage for Lutheranism here. My objection is different. I'm meeting them on their own ground. I'm claiming that if philosophical or epistemological certainty is required to know that Christ died for some particular person, the Lutheran doesn't have that. And that's because the Lutheran could only have that if the Lutheran knew the basis for making that judgment "with 100% certainty." And the Lutheran can't, of course, have that—hence, the Lutheran can't, of course, know that Christ died for him or her or anyone "with 100% certainty."
P.S. I say this because I think it's right, not because I'm bitter; but even if I were bitter, the argument would stand all the same. ;)
P.P.S. In other words, if Calvinists have to worry about the "possibility" that they're not elect, Lutherans have to worry about the "possibility" that Calvinism is correct (i.e., it's not *impossible*).
Homosexuals in church
I'd like to compare and contrast the question of homosexuals in church with pedophiles in church. I'm no expert on psychopathology, but since I doubt most seminaries discuss these issues, it's something that needs to be hashed out in formulating church policy and pastoral ministry:
i) As a rule, I think outright unbelievers should be welcome in attend church. In that regard, active homosexual are no exception. I'm referring to homosexuals who make no pretense to be Christian. Indeed, they are well aware of the fact that their lifestyle is contrary to Christian ethics.
It's good for unbelievers to attend church. To be exposed to the Gospel and Christian fellowship.
ii) In addition, it's possible for someone who struggles with homosexual impulses to make a credible profession of faith. They can be church members. And that's distinct from active homosexuals (see above). In Christian ethics, single men and women are supposed to be celibate.
iii) There's the increasingly popular category of "gay Christians." I don't think that's helpful. If I'm a Christian who's a recovering drug addict, should I call myself a "junkie Christian"?
iv) From what I've read, homosexuals and pedophiles are distinct, but sometimes overlapping categories:
a) Some pedophiles prey on kids of either sex. It's about kids, not about gender.
But there's a subset of pedophiles who prey on kids of the same sex. So some pedophiles are homosexual.
b) In the technical sense, pedophiles prey on preadolescents whereas homosexuals are drawn to adolescents or young adults.
c) Although some pedophiles seem to be sexually attracted to kids, pedophilia appears to be a subdivision of sociopathology/psychopathology.
From what I can tell, the primary motivation for some or many pedophiles is to harm children. It is not, in the first instance, about sexual gratification. Rather, molestation is just one way of harming children. The general impulse, the deeper impulse, is to do harm. They hate children.
So it's more like serial killers. The difference is the age range of the target group. Although serial killers may rape or sodomize the victim, it seems to be less about sex than violence, humiliation. Harming the victim psychically and psychologically. Same thing with pedophilia.
By contrast, homosexuals are motivated by sex, albeit deviant sex.
d) In general, I don't think the presence of homosexuals in church is hazardous in the way that pedophiles would be.
For one thing, I'm not sure that homosexuality is as compulsive as pedophilia. Pedophiles, like psycho/sociopaths in general, take extreme risks. It's not clear to me that homosexuals are usually prepared to take the same risks. When necessary, they can exercise more restraint. But I could easily be mistaken about that.
e) Another factor is that, by definition, pedophilia is coercive. There's no such thing as consensual pedophilia. By contrast, there is such a thing as consensual homosexuality. And because consenting partners are readily available, a homosexual isn't tempted to resort to the expedients of the pedophile. In that respect, homosexuals are safer to be around.
f) In addition, it is easy to quietly subdue a young child. And it's easy to intimidate the young victim into silent through dire threats.
By contrast, it is not easy to subdue a teenage boy, or compel his silence. To attempt that when many people are around puts the perpetrator at tremendous risk of detection.
For these reasons, I don't think the presence of homosexuals in church presents the same risk factors.
v) Homosexuals are dangerous to minors in situations where homosexuals are put in positions of trust and authority over minors. Where minors are temporarily separated from parents, or heterosexual supervisors. If you give homosexuals power over minors, then that's an invitation to sexual abuse. Examples include the orphanages, involuntary commitment, youth detention, all male boarding schools, queer Boy Scout leaders on retreat, and the clerical abuse scandal in the church of Rome. I'm not saying abuse always occurs in these settings–just that the opportunity is greater.
I'd add that this isn't confined to teenagers. In the military, homosexual superior officers have an opportunity to force themselves on adult subordinates.
Born of water and the Spirit
In a new essay, Richard Bauckham rejects the sacramental interpretation of Jn 3 & 6: "Sacraments?," Gospel of Glory: Major Themes in Johannine Theology (Baker 2015), chap. 5.
To summarize some key details in his argument:
i) He rejects the baptismal interpretation of Jn 3 in part because that's anachronistic. Indeed, he quotes scholars who support the baptismal interpretation, but admit that it's anachronistic:
[Raymond Brown] If we posit some kind of historical tradition behind the Nicodemus incident, then we must allow a primary nonsacramental meaning to Jesus's words, a meaning which Nicodemus could have understood. Ibid. 82n24.
Ignace de la Potterie maintains a primary reference to Christian baptism that does not have to be intelligible to Nicodemus because the author of the Gospel added the words "water and" only at a later stage of composition. Ibid. 84n33.
ii) For scholars like Brown, they don't think the historical anachronism is problematic because they don't think the conversation ever took place. For them, it's a retrojection. A fictional dialogue.
However, Bauckham thinks that's mistaken even if you deny the historicity of the account. For even if it's fictional, it was still meant to be realistic:
A plausible interpretation must make sense in its narrative context, which is Jesus's conversation with Nicodemus, a Pharisaic member of the Jewish ruling council, in Jerusalem at an early stage of Jesus's earthly ministry. This criterion should not be confused with the assumption that the narrative is a historical report of a conversation that actually took place. Even if the narrative is entirely fictional, the criterion applies because it is entailed by the literary genre of the text as a narrative set in the past. Ibid. 82-83.
Although I disagree with the fictional classification, this is a way of rebutting liberal scholars on their own grounds.
iii) Bauckham argues that the "water" is a reference to amniotic fluid. This picks on up Nicodemus's reference to childbirth, then builds on that to create a parallel. Everyone who enters the kingdom must be twice-born: naturally born and spiritually reborn. Born of the flesh and born of the Spirit.
iv) Concerning Jn 6, he argues that Isa 54:9-55:5 function as a key interpretive filter:
As well as the explicit quotation (v45=Isa 54:13), there are a series of allusions to Isa 55:1-3 ("thirst…come…eat…bread…come to me…so that you may live") in vv 35,37,40,44,45,47,51,54,57,58.
Jesus here identifies himself not only with the bread of the Exodus text, but also with the divine speaker in Isa 55, who offers both food and drink to those who come to him…When Jesus says that "my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink," there is probably an allusion to Isa 55:2, where "that which is not bread" and "that which does not satisfy" are contrasted with the food and drink that God gives. Ibid. 96.
iv) Although he rejects the eucharistic interpretation of Jn 6, Bauckam thinks the discourse employs some eucharistic language to explicate the sacrificial import of Christ's impending death. The eucharist is, itself, an interpretation of the cross, which unpacks the death of Christ in sacrificial terms (i.e. to atone for sin). Bauckham thinks that Jn 6 trades on eucharistic connotations, even though it is not, in itself, eucharistic.
However, Bauckham admits that in OT sacrificial system, "flesh" and "blood" terminology was used (e.g. Lev 1:3-9). So eucharistic allusions are unnecessary to evoke the sacramental significance of Jesus' impending death in Jn 6.
Sunday, October 11, 2015
Who would Jesus deport?
I've done a number of posts on illegal immigration. I won't repeat all that in this post. This post is focussed on the so-called "Syrian refugee" crisis.
i) To begin with, there's a basic problem with how the issue is framed. Some professing Christians cast the issue in terms of "Who would Jesus deport?"
Certainly Christians should be concerned with what Jesus actually did teach. And it's proper to extrapolate from his actual teaching to analogous cases.
But frequently, the people who ask what Jesus would say are the very people who haven't bothered to study what he did say. They have a very casual and careless understanding of the Gospels.
What is worse, their posture often borders on blasphemy. What it amounts to is the person putting themselves in Jesus' place and saying, "If I were Jesus, this is what I'd do!" They presume to speak on his behalf.
Well, you're not Jesus! You don't have divine wisdom. You're no substitute for Jesus. So don't act as if you're in any position to tell us how he'd answer that question, unless you can logically infer that from something he actually said.
ii) In addition, that framework is counterproductive. Take the picture of the little boy that drowned. A picture that went viral.
Jesus was in a position to do something I wasn't. He was able to save that little boy from drowning. But he didn't lift a finger to prevent that tragedy. If you're going to cite Jesus as precedent for how Christians should respond, that would suggest nonintervention. A do-nothing policy, because Jesus did nothing. Appealing to the example of Jesus is a two-edged sword.
People who invoke the example of Jesus act as if he's just an inspirational figure from the past. But in NT Christology, he's very much alive. All power in heaven and earth was conferred on him. He sits at the right hand of the Father. Rules the world from heaven. Yet in many cases, he does not intercede, even though he has the power to do so.
iii) Appealing to Jesus can be counterproductive in another respect. For instance, Jesus spoke of the duty to care for your dependents. In particular, to care for needy elderly parents (Mk 7; Mt 15).
If, however, unregulated immigration destroys the national economic infrastructure, then you may be unable to discharge your duty to aging parents. It isn't possible to give equal care to everyone. Resources are limited. There's a point at which you must take from one to give to another. Caring for one comes at the expense of another–because there's not enough to go around.
Consider what Paul says the duty of a Christian husband to love his wife (Eph 5), or the standing duty to care for dependents (1 Tim 5:8). If you have prior obligations, you can't just assume a new set of social obligations in competition with your prior obligations. And certain social obligations take precedence. Certain social obligations are primary. What's left over can go to strangers, but they aren't entitled to cut in line.
iv) Then you have professing Christians who cite OT passages on "immigrants." A potential problem with that appeal is cherry-picking. The same law code which talks about the treatment of "immigrants" also contains the laws of warfare, including the holy war injunctions. If you're going to analogize from the Mosaic law, are Muslim refugees equivalent to immigrants to be welcomed or combatants to be destroyed?
v) In addition, the "social justice" appeal to OT passages on "immigrants" fails to take into account a number of caveats. For instance:
vi) I'm very sympathetic to the plight of persecuted Middle Eastern Christians. They need to be distinguished from Muslim invaders. We need a screening process. If you give everyone asylum, then there will be no place left on earth for Christians to escape from their persecutors. If you allow jihadists to overrun the West, they will pursue fleeing Christians wherever they go. There's nowhere left to hide.
All you've done is to import Islamic terrorism onto your own soil. It's not a Christian duty to turn the US into another Beruit or Mogadishu.
Muslims have a habit of bringing their dysfunctional values with them. They destroy what they came for. When they settle in a new country, they introduce Sharia, rape, honor killings, female genital circumcision, &c., into the new country. The vicious cycle repeats itself.
This isn't hypothetical. Even in the US, see what has happened with Somali immigrants. Likewise, Jews are no longer safe in Paris. For instance:
vii) To take another example, the US presently has the finest teaching hospitals in the world. And they train many international students who return to practice medicine in their country of origin. The world at large benefits from American med schools. If, however, you have an immigration policy that destroys the national economic infrastructure, then that will be a loss to everyone. Not just Americans. The whole world will suffer.
viii) Some Christians don't know the difference between defending oneself and defending another (or others). To illustrate, suppose an armed intruder breaks into my house while my wife and I are at home. Consider two options:
a) I put my wife between the intruder and me
b) I put myself between the intruder and my wife
One is self-defense, the other is endangering myself to protect another. It's a fundamental moral distinction.
Here's an exchange I had a while back with some well-meaning but sappy-headed Christians who are woefully nearsighted, who have a half-baked grasp of Christian ethics:
The Day of the Lord
There are some who maintain that the Day of the Lord will be a literal twenty-four hour day, mostly those holding to a variant of posttribulationism, as well as amillennialism.
In contrast, the prophets often used “day” to denote the epochal time when God would break into history in glory and judgment, bringing the ungodly to account.
In those contexts, it is clearly a figurative expression denoting an epoch of [millennial blessings, not a twenty-four hour day.
http://www.alankurschner.com/2011/12/04/the-day-of-the-lord-is-not-a-literal-24-hour-day/
i) I agree with Alan that yom has a wider semantic range. Same applies to its NT counterparts, which carry over from OT usage.
Also, it's not the meaning of yom in isolation, but the meaning of yom in a stereotypical phrase ("day of Yahweh")–which may be idiomatic.
Also, it's not the meaning of yom in isolation, but the meaning of yom in a stereotypical phrase ("day of Yahweh")–which may be idiomatic.
ii) I think "epoch" is misleading. Even making allowance for the semantic range of yom, "epoch" has different connotations than "day."
iii) In the OT, a "day" can denote a "time" of deliverance, judgment, disaster, &c. There it's synonymous with an "event."
iv) An interesting example is Jn 8:56, where "my day" seems to be equivalent to the inauguration of the Messianic age.
v) I don't see how amillennialism entails that the day of the Lord must be a 24-hour period. In amil theology, the following things happen when Jesus returns:
a) Christians who are alive on earth at the time of his return will be glorified.
b) Christ will decisively and finally subjugate his enemies (unbelievers).
c) The general resurrection
d) The final judgment.
I don't think amillennialism requires all those things to happen within a 24-hour interval. Rather, I think "the Day of the Lord" has an inceptive sense. If Jesus literally returns, then by definition, he will return on a calendar day. So I think the "Day of the Lord" marks a terminus ad quo, but not a terminus ad quem–in the sense of a 24-hour span of time. When will these things happen? When Jesus returns. They are time-indexed to his return.
vi) To take one example, Scripture doesn't spell out the mechanics of the final judgment. Will that involve a past life regression in which your life is replayed like a movie? Will it select for your private sins? Will that be on display for everyone to see? Will every human be judged in that sense, or only unbelievers?
Even if it's confined to unbelievers, that's a somewhat time-consuming event, although it might be a psychological experience, like a dream, where the passage of time is accelerated. If this is a serial judgment, where everybody is judged one at a time by that process, it would be extremely time-consuming. There are billions of unbelievers, past and present, to judge.
Perhaps separate concurrent judgments are in view. And maybe the point is not that spectators see this unfold in real time, but that there's a public record. A record that's available for viewing. For instance, consider all the things that Josef Mengele did behind closed doors. Things that view people, except his victims, ever witnessed.
vii) I think the larger point Alan is angling at is that in amil eschatology, the final events at the Parousia are synchronized so that all these things either overlap or happen in rapid succession. They needn't be strictly simultaneous. But they cluster in a brief interval, all triggered by the return of Christ.
In premillennialism, by contrast, the same events are spaced out. That's because premils use Revelation as a chronological framework. Events must happen in that sequence. Other endtime events not recorded in Revelation are intercalated in the framework.
In amil eschatology, it could take longer than a single day. Point is, though, premil eschatology requires a lot of extra time in a way that amil eschatology does not. It's not so much that the interval can't be longer on an amil timetable, but that the interval can't be shorter on a premil timetable.
There is, though, another sense in which, in amil eschatology, endtime events are spread out over the course of the church age. The first advent of Christ inaugurates the final phase of world history.
So to some extent it's a question of where to put these events. When they begin. In amillennialism, the countdown begins sooner. In premillennialism, it's more backloaded.
In amillennialism, it starts out slow but picks up speed at the end. The pace accelerates heading into the final stretch. The key events take place close in time. In premillennialism, by contrast, the countdown begins much later, but once the stopwatch clicks, there's more spacing between events.
The Grand Age of Apologetics
I mostly, though not entirely, agree with his observations and reflections:
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2015/july-web-only/os-guinness-interview-welcome-grand-age-apologetics.html
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2015/july-web-only/os-guinness-interview-welcome-grand-age-apologetics.html
Saturday, October 10, 2015
Eyewitness to history
A cliche of critical Bible scholarshio is to treat history and theology as antithetical categories. For instance, they may regard John as the least historical of the Gospels because it contains the most theological interpretation.
Conservative scholars have, of course, made the banal observation that critical scholars are guilty of erecting a false dichotomy. But I'd like to put a sharper point on that observation.
It's true that the Gospels are more than a record of events. They are interpreted events. But not only is that consistent with their historicity, but that's to be expected if they are based on eyewitness testimony.
Most everyone is a historian. I'm a historian with respect to my own time and place. What I myself have seen. People I personally knew.
When historians and biographers write about public figures or events in the recent past, they try to interview close acquaintances. That's because a close acquaintance can be an invaluable source of information. Parents know a lot about their kids, and vice versa. Siblings know a lot about each other. Childhood friends know a lot about each other. And this involves two types of information:
i) What the subject thought, said, did.
A close acquaintance may have a detailed knowledge of part, most, or even all of the subject's life. In many cases he has firsthand knowledge of what the subject said and did. He was there when it happened. He saw it or heard it.
Likewise, that subject may have told him about things he did in the past. So the close acquaintance is getting that straight from the horse's mouth.
ii) Why the subject thought, said, did what he did.
In addition to knowing what he thought, said, and did, a close acquaintance may know why that's the case. And these typically go together. There are several factors that may motivate people to think, say, and believe in certain ways:
a) If you know a person well enough to know their character traits. Their temperament. Their values. Their likes and dislikes. If you've been around them often enough and long enough to observe a pattern. That makes them predictable. You usually know what to expect. We are creatures of habit. We have formative influences. We rarely act out of character.
b) They may tell a close acquaintance why they did something, why they like or dislike sometime. They will explain their actions.
c) If you know the events leading up to a particular decision in his life. Circumstances constrain our field of action. We choose from the available options.
One thing leads to another. What we think, said, or did is in response to prior events. It has a context in a larger chain of events.
As a result, a close acquaintance is in privileged position to interpret the subject's action. Give a reason for why the subject thought what he thought, said what he said, and did what he did. This isn't the fictional omniscient narrator; rather, this is realistic.
This is why a good historian or biographer will seek out people who knew the subject well, and question them, not only on the facts, but on the motivations. A close acquaintance has that interpretive frame of reference.
Poor Benjamin's Almanack
Dr. Ben Carson is full of plain-spoken wisdom and common sense. For example, see this article.
(I'm not necessarily suggesting this means he'd make for a good president though. I think that remains to be seen.)
Friday, October 09, 2015
Told you so!
Because no one could possibly see that coming:
http://www.thestar.com/news/crime/2015/10/05/university-of-toronto-alters-bathroom-policy-after-two-reports-of-voyeurism.html
http://www.thestar.com/news/crime/2015/10/05/university-of-toronto-alters-bathroom-policy-after-two-reports-of-voyeurism.html
The cosmography of Revelation
i) Dante is famous for his landscape of hell. Although he wrote a trilogy, it suffers from the dubious distinction that most readers find his imaginative depiction of hell to be far and away the most compelling section. The raw materials for Purgatory and heaven were less promising. He did the best he could, but what ought to be a climax is more of a letdown.
Likewise, scholars have popularized a notion of Gen 1 as a three-story universe. As I've discussed on many occasions, I think that reflects a deskbound interpretation that's out of touch with the world which an anciet audience would actually experience. They spent lots of time out of doors. The details of the three-story universe don't comport with what they were in a position to know, as a matter of common observation.
Despite scholarly preoccupation with the alleged cosmography of Genesis, I'm struck by scholarly neglect in reference to Revelation. For centuries, this book has captivated readers. It has produced an immense body of exegetical literature.
Yet in spite of that, there is, to my knowledge, no monograph on the cosmography of Revelation. Yet based on various literary notices in the Apocalypse, you can piece together a picture of the world in Revelation. It would be interesting if somebody produced a mock-up or simulation.
This post is not intended to be exhaustive. I'm just going to highlight some elements:
ii) In Revelation, "heaven" is largely a vast divine throneroom or temple. It even has a door (4:1; 11:19).
Inside the throneroom there's an artificial rainbow. I say it's artificial because there's no rain or sunshine inside the throneroom.
You also have lightning. From an ancient perspective, lightning might be interesting in part because it's a natural light source that's independent of sunlight. And, of course, it's especially dramatic after dark, when it momentarily lights up the night sky.
You also have the "sea of glass." That might suggest a reflective floor that mirrors the ceiling.
ii) In 8:8-9 you have what we'd describe in modern terms as a giant astroid plunging into the sea. Its rapid descent through the atmosphere would make it white hot. The result is to make the ocean boil on contact.
This is reminiscent, both of doomsday science fiction scenarios as well as craters that bear witness to actual impact events in earth history.
iii) 8:12 might be a case of occultation or transit, where one celestial body temporarily obscures another, without covering it completely.
iv) In 9:1 you have an angel depicted as a shooting star. The abyss seems to be the prison for fallen angels. It is distinct from Hades (in Revelation).
v) In 12, the Devil is depicted as an ancient constellation. Candidates include Draco, Scorpio, Hydra, and Serpens. I doubt John intended a precise astronomical identification in mind. I suspect the terminology is impressionistic.
At the same time, he's alluding to the primordial "snake" in the garden. That raises the question of whether the original audience for Genesis would associate the "snake" with constellations and shooting stars. How far back in time does that thinking go? Obviously, that stellar symbolism dovetails nicely with the identification of the tempter as a fallen angel, where it is named after constellations with reptilian designations.
vi) In 13 you have the beast from the sea. This isn't the normal ocean, but an ocean that's been contaminated by natural disasters. So if this were science fiction, the beast would be a mutant sea monster.
vii) In 16:20, the islands disappear. In theory, that could be caused by an astroid raising the sea level. I'm not stating for a fact that that's what John intends. But there is a potential narrative connection between 8:8-9 and 16:20, where the latter might be a side effect of the former. The islands were submerged by rising oceans, caused by the astroid impact.
viii) In general, Revelation depicts an ecological disaster on a global and even cosmic scale. The flora is firebombed. The natural freshwater sources are poisoned. Marine life is destroyed by boiling water and contaminants. The sun ceases to shine. Record meteor showers empty the sky.
Recast in modern terms, the sky is reduced to white dwarves, supernovae, and neutron stars.
The earth in general is rendered uninhabitable. The only "natural" source of heat and light is the lake of fire, which is reminiscent of magma or lava.
The earth in general is not restored to its pristine, Edenic condition. Just the opposite: it is made inhospitable to natural lifeforms.
ix) There is a singular exception: the New Jerusalem, which comes down from heaven.
It's like the domed city in science fiction. A residential greenhouse. A self-contained, self-sufficient ecosystem;
Because there is no sunlight, the New Jerusalem is illuminated by artificial (supernatural) lighting (21:23,25; 22:5), evoking the Shekinah and the pillar of fire.
It has its own fresh water supply: a stream that's fed from a spring under the divine throne (22:1). This, in turn, waters the "tree of life" (22:2). Possibly a bank of fruit-trees on either side of the river. In principle, the river might have fish (Cf. Ezk 47).
x) The only other source of heat and light is the lake of fire (19:20; 20:10), beyond the confines of the domed city.
The damned exist outside the domed city (21:27; 22:14:15). In John's cosmography, hell isn't under the earth, but on the surface of the earth. The distinction is horizontal, not vertical. Inside the city or outside the city.
The damned are like zombies. Alive, but with nothing to live on. No sunlight. No vegetation. No livestock, fish, or game.
xi) Finally, we might ask how realistic this is. Three options:
a) Symbolic
b) Literal
A problem with (b) is that unless you suppose John thought angels were literally dumping buckets of brimstone over the railing of the celestial city, it's hard to treat the imagine as consistently realistic.
c) Lifelike
If you take Bible history seriously, then some natural disasters are divine judgments. Although John is using stock imagery, this could be analogous to a future cataclysm.
It's possible that the earth will be a worldwide ecological disaster zone. The damned will survive, but linger on. Supernaturally sustained, like immortal zombies. Life will only flourish inside the New Jerusalem, where the saints reside forever.
Of course, this is visionary literature. Some things that are physically impossible can happen in a dream-like vision, where natural laws don't apply.
The mythical solid dome
Here's a challenge to conventional wisdom:
The author has a doctorate from Hebrew Union college.
Thursday, October 08, 2015
Manual of church discipline
Recently I've done a number of occasional pieces on church discipline. I'll take the occasion in this post to systematize that. This is not meant to be exhaustive by any means. By "church," I mean a generic Bible-believing church.
I. Church attendance
As a rule, the church has an open door policy on attendance. We welcome just about anybody who wants to attend. About the only condition is that you not be disruptive. There are roughly two reasons for that:
1. Christianity is a missionary religion. We welcome strangers. We welcome seekers. Church attendance is a way for some unbelievers to become evangelized.
2. Churches typically consist of families. And families typically consist of one or more believers along with one or more undecided. Due to the familial structure of the church, the average church is bound to have some unbelievers.
II. Church membership
1. Formal church membership is an ecclesiastical tradition rather than a Biblical mandate. In the NT, baptism was the basic rite of church membership. In a missionary setting, that was typically administered to adults. There were no denominations back then, so you didn't join a denomination.
2. However, formal church membership has some potential value:
i) If, say, you have a congregational polity, then it's important for those who vote on church policy, hiring and firing, &c., to be Christian. That's important for maintaining the Christian identity of the fellowship. Without a distinction between voting members (who are Christian) and attendees, unbelievers might have too much sway in setting policy. Lacking that distinction dilutes the spiritual integrity of the fellowship.
ii) Likewise, membership simplifies excommunication. There are basic standards, and identifiable men or women who violate the standards.
That's important for distinguishing beween the professing Christians, who are held to a Christian standard, from non-Christian attendees, who are not.
And excommunication is necessary to maintain the fidelity of the fellowship. To be a church is not just to be something, but to not be something else. There must be boundaries.
iii) The condition for membership is a credible profession of faith. That includes both orthodoxy and orthopraxy. It's not enough to say you believe the right things. You must make a good faith effort to live according to Christian ethics. That rules out flagrant hypocrites. It's not sufficient believe the truth, you must "do the truth" (as St. John puts it).
iv) Of course, there are kids who are born into the church. Raised in the faith. But to become "communicant members," there comes a point where they must personally reaffirm what they've been taught. Communicant members must be believers.
v) The doctrinal standard is higher for church officers.
vi) It is understood that many men and women had a checkered past before they came to the faith. Likewise, some cradle Christians backslide before returning to the faith.
As a rule, the church is quite tolerant in that regard. In the nature of the case, Christianity is a very forgiving religion. The past is past,, so long as you are contrite. So long as you "turn from your wicked ways."
III. Preemptive discipline
1. Psycho/sociopaths
i) By "sociopath," I mean a person who has a compulsion to commit heinous deeds. That includes serial killers, serial rapists, serial pedophiles, &c. People with an irrepressible urge to harm others.
These are dangerous people. Antisocial in the extreme. Antithetical to the communal ethos of the church. They don't belong in church. They don't belong is society.
Now, there are people who struggle with addiction, viz. gambling, pornography, substance abuse. They may fall off the wagon. But they aren't generally a threat to others.
Someone might object that this denies the transformative power of the Gospels. By way of response:
a) The Gospel has transformative power for those whom the Gospel empowers. Born-again Christians.
But there's no presumption that a sociopath is genuine in his profession of faith. Indeed, manipulating others is a common feature of sociopathology.
Normally, we can accept a credible profession of faith at face value, but in the case of known sociopaths or psychopaths, the stakes are too high if you are wrong. It is too risky to admit them into the fellowship.
b) People can be morally or psychologically damaged in this life in a way that can't be repaired in this life. Sanctification doesn't cure all pathologies. In this life, sanctification has limitations. Some people are twisted to a degree that can't be straightened out in the here and now. Some of them may sincerely wish to do better, but they lack self-restraint.
An alcoholic may swear off the bottle today, but be right back in the bar tomorrow. He meant what he said today, but he lacks the willpower to stay true to his resolve.
I'm not saying alcoholics can't come to church or be part of the church. I'm just using that to illustrate the fact that even those who mean well, who struggle with temptation, may fail.
To some degree, that's true for every Christian. But every Christian isn't dangerous. I'm referring to people who just aren't safe to be around. These are extreme cases, but they do exist.
(For convenience, I'm using sociopathology and psychopathology interchangeably. Whether we count them as one or two makes no difference for my purposes.)
2. Excons
i) Excons can be church members and church officers. They can be pastors. However, depending on what they did and how long ago, they made need to earn the trust of the church. "Fruits of repentance."
ii) It would be imprudent to hire a convicted arsonist to be the church custodian. It would be imprudent to hire a convicted embezzler to be the church treasurer. That's asking for trouble. Tempting fate.
Courting the court of public opinion
I'm going to comment on a provocative post by Peter Leithart:
http://www.firstthings.com/blogs/leithart/2015/09/before-unbelievers
Leithart's arguments are not all of a piece.
i) I think complaints like this are useless, in part because it's about something that you can't say is generally right or generally wrong. It all depends on the particular case.
Yes, some people are unjustly convicted in the court of public opinion. And that antedates the Internet by generations. However, other people are unjustly acquitted in civil courts or church courts but justly convicted in the court of public opinion.
ii) Nowadays, a trial is not about getting at the truth, but checking all the boxes on the defendant's due process rights. Oftentimes, probative evidence is excluded because that would be "prejudicial" or "inflammatory." Likewise, incriminating evidence is excluded because it was obtained without a search warrant. Oftentimes, jurors don't ever get to hear crucial evidence.
Right now I'm not saying if that's good or bad. That's an argument for another day. Certainly the police should face some official sanction to deter them from violating 4th amendment rights. My point, though, is that a trial is not about getting to the bottom of things.
iii) Likewise, the media and internet sometimes do the investigative spadework that official channels ignore. And sometimes that attention then inspires an official investigation.
iv) Survivor blogs are a mixed bag. Some raise legitimate grievances. Others are by disgruntled former church members who have no right to be disgruntled. So you can't say in general that these are either good or bad. It varies. You can't render a broad, fact-free value judgment. It depends on the actual content. Where the truth lies.
Finally, there's Leithart's appeal to 1 Cor 6. That's the most significant part of his post. It's a neglected text. Most Western Christians don't know what to do with it, so they ignore it.
iv) As scholars like Winter, Garnsey, Keener, Clarke, Rapske, and Ciampa/Rosner have documented, Paul's discussion is embedded in the context of Roman law and socioeconomic structures, so we need to take into account the discontinuities as well as continuities when we apply this to our own situation. We must untangle the culturebound elements from the transcultural elements.
v) The discussion presupposes an honor/shame culture. In the Corinthian context, slighted honor could become the basis for a lawsuit. Analogous to defamation suits, only what was actionable in the Roman legal system was far broader.
Likewise, only the rich could afford litigation. So there's the subtext of upperclass Christians oppressing lower class Christians. Wealthy Christians throwing their weight around.
Added to that, the system was heavily stacked against lower class litigants. So there was enormous potential for abuse of power.
Much of this falls under what today we'd term "frivolous" lawsuits. Petty, spiteful, vindictive litigation that can be financially ruinous to the defendant.
To suggest that Paul rules out Christians ever seeking legal remedies is likely an overextension of what he had in mind. Rather, Christians should be prepared to lose face, even when they are wronged. Don't get even. Don't avenge your slighted honor by resorting to the courts. From a theological perspective, saving face is worldly and trivial. Get your priorities straight.
vi) There is, though, the remaining issue of scandalizing unbelievers. Giving Christianity a bad reputation by very public, very acrimonious infighting. Should all that be kept behind closed doors?
One question involves the potential distinction between small-town pastors and prominent Christian leaders or Christian institutions. Are these disputes which would become a matter of public record anyway if the participants are sufficiently high-profile figures or institutions?
There's a difference between unbelievers learning about a dispute that would remain private unless Christians publicized it, and Christians publicly commenting on a dispute that has already become a matter of notoriety.
vii) Apropos (vi), public Christian commentary can put a dispute into perspective. Offset scandal by correcting secular misrepresentations of the dispute. Or distancing themselves from ecclesiastical misconduct to demonstrate that it's unfair to tar all Christians with the same brush. There's no Christian omertà.
viii) The official channels of church discipline are sometimes a mechanism to coverup misconduct. Sometimes the Internet functions as an independent accountability system: an external check when official channels are derelict.
ix) That said, this can be a pretext for malicious gossip, character assassination, and scurrilous rumor-mongering. Some people just want a forum in which to vent, to unload.
However, Leithart's admonition will fall on deaf ears where they are concerned. So it's a familiar conundrum, where the people who need to hear it won't listen while those who listen don't need to hear it. Responsible people don't need lectures on responsibility while irresponsible people won't heed it.
x) The Internet is a megaphone that amplifies the good and the bad alike. It's a form of self-publishing. In the past, you needed a publisher to do what anyone can now do with a computer and internet access. Nothing is new in principle: it's a difference in scale.
Feeding time at the herpetarium
A carryover from this post:
Andrew W:
"So do unrecognised pedophiles. At what point do you want to shoot on sight?"
You're moving the goalpost. The question at issue is how the church should deal with known pedophiles.
One of your sophistries is to shift the discussion from the actual issue at hand to borderline cases. But you can't extrapolate from borderline cases to clearcut cases, precisely because the latter lack the same conditions as the former. We could spend time finessing hypothetical borderline cases, but that's a diversionary tactic.
I don't need to answer every hypothetical case before I'm allowed to address a specific concrete example. That's a recipe for moral paralysis. Chasing an infinite regress of hypothetical examples and counterexamples, while ignoring the actual case at hand.
"Yes, that's a reduction-ad-absurdum."
No, that's trivializing a grave moral issue.
"It's also a completely logical consequence of saying 'prevention at all costs.'"
Which is not what I said.
"And if you're not saying 'prevention at all costs', then you need a metric to decide how to balance a risk of recidivism versus genuine protection."
I need no metric inasmuch as there are no competing rights to be balanced. The pedophile has no right to be in church in the first place.
"Note that an unrecognised pedophile actually poses a far greater risk to your child than a recognised one; you just have much less information to evaluate the risk."
A red herring. The issue is how to deal with someone with a rap sheet. In particular, a serial pedophile. Naturally we can't act on purely unknowns. That's a distraction.
"Would I let a once-pedophile near my child? Sure."
Then you're a fool who's derelict in your paternal duties.
"Would I leave them alone? Most likely not."
"Most likely?"
"Would I let them father a child of their own given a willing wife? Well, that's the tricky question, isn't it?"
That's not the question. The question is whether a pastor should marry them. Likewise, whether a pastor should recommend to a single women in his church that she marry a pedophile.
"Except at this point I'm not discussing what *I* think."
In which case both of us reject your premise.
"The argument that known pedophiles pose a greater risk to children than unknown pedophiles falls prey to the same poor reasoning…"
That wasn't the argument.
"The offence in rape is against the woman, not the child. Where the child becomes an issue is when it is subsequently killed because it was conceived in the wrong way."
I answered you on your own terms. Now you change the subject. Your original objection was about preempting their existence. After that argument failed, you rewrite your objection.
"Let me make one final remark on the case involving Wilson before I turn to the general case. A majority - but not all - of the supervisory board agreed that marriage was a positive move towards the man's rehabilitation. Assuming the subsequent crime, was that decision wrong, or was there a failure of supervision? If so, is this based on the benefit of hindsight, or was the evidence there already?"
It's wrong to enable a known serial pedophile, then wait and see what happens.
"(1) Imagine that some number of pedophiles are rehabilitated post-incarceration and go on to be good fathers, and some do not."
"Imagine"? So let's just make up some fake statistics to becloud the issue?
"What statistical likelihood of reoffense would one be willing to tolerate if the situation was generally good? If your answer is zero, how do you reconcile that with the knowledge that some proportion of (non-criminal) parents will end up abusing their offspring?"
This isn't about comparative stats. And my argument was always much broader than the particular case you've fixated on.
From what I've read, pedophiles range along a continuum. They fantasize about harming children. The stimulus may involve watching kiddy porn or watching kids at a playground. That sort of thing. Not all pedophiles act out their fantasies.
However, a percentage of pedophiles take it to the next level. This can involve abduction, molestation, mutilation, torture, and/or murder.
We don't know in advance what the propensity of any particular pedophile is. And that, of itself, is a huge risk factor. It is wrong to test the propensity of a known pedophile by giving him access to kids, then waiting to find out how dangerous he is. It is inexcusable to put children in that situation.
A church has no obligation to give a known pedophile a chance to reoffend or not. Indeed, it has an obligation not to give him that chance. He should be nowhere near their kids. He should not be allowed to come to church. He should not be in physical proximity with kids.
A church can't control what he does on his own. That's up to the authorities. But a church is responsible for events that fall within its purview.
It's like asking how you know when it's time to feed a reticulated python. Well, one way to find out is to put a child in the snakepit and see if the python eats the child. If he doesn't, then you know he wasn't hungry. But that would be amorally impermissible way to answer the question.
In the situation under consideration, on the one hand you have a known pedophile. On the other hand you don't know in advance the extent of his propensities. You know what he did in the past (or at least what's a matter of public record), but you don't know what he will do in the future. Is it proper to discover his full propensities by exposing him to children, then observing what happens next? That would be inexcusably reckless and evil.
This shouldn't be a difficult issue. There's no reason for professing Christians to tie themselves into knots regarding the right policy. It isn't complicated–at all. It is evil to treat children as bait to sort out the "safe" pedophiles from the dangerous pedophiles. Who in their right mind thought the church should give him that opportunity?
"Or does this have nothing to do with rehabilitation and is purely a matter of justice?"
It's a matter of prudence.
Finally, you're someone who likes to argue for the sake of arguing. You take a morally grave, clearcut concerning the protection of defenseless children, then try to fuzz it up. That's an evil tactic. Don't come back.
Talent's temptations
I'd like to make one last observation on the Wilson affair. I'm using this occasion to make a larger point.
From what I've read, Wilson acts as if he's the victim, he's the one who was wronged in this whole dispute.
In my observation, most pastors are pretty ordinary people. They aren't especially gifted. They don't have any great knack for what they do. And I don't say that as a criticism or putdown.
Because most pastors don't have a deep well of natural talent to dip into, they can't rely on their personal facility in the way a truly gifted person can. To be a good shepherd, the average pastor must rely one things which aren't based on his special endowments, because he never had all that to draw upon. Instead, he must simply be studious, faithful, prayerful conscientious, know his parishioners, visit the sick, &c. Plodding, mundane things that anyone dutiful person can do.
However, Doug Wilson is a big talent. Talented people rely on their outsized abilities. And there's nothing wrong with that. Make the most of it. Put it to good use.
However, talented people are prone to a danger that average people are not: pride. Egotism.
Because they have talent, because they rely on their natural talent, it is easy for a gifted person to be self-centered. And this is reinforced by the fact that charisma is a drawing card. People come to hear and see you. They read you for style as much as substance. You have starpower. You become the sun of that solar system.
It's easier for a talented person to see himself in his work, because he did put more of himself into his own work. He's less dependent on the work of others. He has a personal flair for doing things. He plunges the big dipper into the well of his own overflowing talent.
Hence, gifted people, including–or especially–gifted Christians, must make an extra effort to guard against vainglory.
Wednesday, October 07, 2015
Wolves, sheep, and sheepdogs
A follow-up post to this:
Among other things, pastors have a duty to protect the flock. That's not a question of forgiveness, but wisdom. A prudential question.
In risk-assessment you have paired factors:
i) What are the odds that x will happen?
ii) What's the harm if x happens?
Take this anecdote:
He became even more of a distraction when he produced equations that showed the possibility that a fission weapon could ignite the world's atmosphere. It was later discovered his calculations were wrong -- and a dozen other men made similar mistakes later -- but work stopped until the flaw was found.
http://news.stanford.edu/news/2003/september24/tellerobit-924.html
Suppose there'd been a tiny risk of that eventuality? Even so, if global annihilation had been a live possibility, that's an unacceptable risk, even if the chances are very low.
Likewise,
i) What's the risk of doing x?
ii) What's the risk of not doing x?
Take vaccination. That carries a low risk of harm. But it's generally riskier not to vaccinate. As a rule, not to vaccinate does more harm. The benefit outweighs the risk.
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