Sunday, April 03, 2016
Wise as serpents and harmless as doves
This is a sequel to my earlier post:
i) I've now skimmed a number of articles by people on both sides of Trump's statement (about the need to punish women who procure an abortion), viz. David French, Joe Carter, Ted Cruz, Doug Wilson, Denny Burk, Robert George, Ross Douthat, Scott Klusendorf, Russell Moore, Albert Mohler. Some are better than others.
Then you have the critics of the critics, viz. AHA, Marcus Pittman, Jordan Hall, R. C. Sproul, Jr., and Bnonn Tennant. Of these, Bnonn's response is easily the most intelligent–which comes as no surprise.
Regarding AHA, Abolitionists indulge in moral showboating to make themselves feel pure and spotless. The same mentality as Social Justice Warriors.
Ironically, it reminds me of nominally prolife Republicans who vote for prolife bills when the bills have no chance of passage, or when they know the bill will be vetoed. A free vote. They vote prolife when they are in the minority. But when they have to take a vote that will actually stick, they balk.
ii) The problem with critics of Trump's statement like Doug Wilson and Russell Moore is how they infantilize women. It's very paternalistic. They use minimizing arguments in reference to women that they'd never use in reference to a (male) teenage thug who shoots the 7/11 cashier. Isn't this the classic "victim of tragic circumstances" defense? No doubt the thug's behavior reflects deficient moral formation. No doubt that often reflects his upbringing. But conservatives don't think that's exculpatory. It's not the absence of moral formation that makes people evil. Rather, moral formation suppresses our natural inclination to commit evil.
iii) Abortion apologists sometimes try to put prolifers on the spot with the following question: If you believe abortion is murder, and if you believe in in capital punishment, don't you think mothers who consent to abortion should be executed?
That line of questioning is designed to make them squirm, blink, backpedal, and expose their inconsistency.
I see AHA accusing prolifers of pulling their punches in response to Trump, but I haven't seen AHA run on a plank of executing mothers who consent to abortion. Maybe I missed it. But given how AHA attacks prolifers for their (alleged) inconsistency, isn't that the logical alternative that AHA ought to take and advocate? And if AHA isn't doing that, then isn't AHA pulling its punches?
There's no statue of limitations on murder. Just since Roe v. Wade, there've been nearly 60 million abortions in America. Some mothers have multiple abortions. And some of those women have died.
But do AHA, Jordan Hall et al. think we should execute about 50 million American women (give or take)? Is that what AHA is proposing?
There's no statue of limitations on murder. Just since Roe v. Wade, there've been nearly 60 million abortions in America. Some mothers have multiple abortions. And some of those women have died.
But do AHA, Jordan Hall et al. think we should execute about 50 million American women (give or take)? Is that what AHA is proposing?
iv) The attacks of AHA in the wake of Trump's statement are opportunistic. What AHA is too blind to appreciate is that that prolifers face a genuine dilemma. The establishment is always itching for a chance to discredit the prolife movement. Always spoiling for an opportunity to remove the one obstacle to killing babies.
The quandary this creates for prolifers is how to respond when too much candor will hurt the innocent. Prolifers are in a situation somewhat analogous to sheltering Jews from Nazis. If you're too forthright with the Nazis, they will use it against the Jews. You can't hang a sign outside your home that says:
Jewish refugee center
If you're living under Nazi occupation, and you wish to shelter Jews, discretion trumps outspokenness. Likewise, the French and Italian resistance didn't aid the Allied war movement by standing on street corners denouncing Hitler, Vichy, and Mussolini.
By the same token, if a prolife politician says mothers who consent to abortions deserve to be punished, his candor endangers the innocent. It's no virtue to be frank and forthcoming when the innocent will suffer as a result. Just as Nazis are not entitled to the truth if they exploit the guileless to murder Jews, prolife politicians have no obligation to make statements that expose babies to even greater risk of harm. There's no duty to say things that are counterproductive to the cause of saving innocent lives–anymore than good Samaritans who wish to hide Jews from Nazis have an obligation to engage in self-defeating behavior.
The statements of AHA, Marcus Pittman, and Jordan Hall play straight into the "war on women" narrative. And that endangers babies. That brings the effort into disrepute. The abortion lobby lies in wait for any damaging action or statement it can twist to tar the movement as a whole.
v) Now, just to forestall any misunderstandings, I'm not suggesting that prolifers need to lie about their true agenda. There is no hidden agenda to punish mothers. That's not in the cards. To say mothers who murder their babies deserve to be punished is an ethical statement about just deserts, not a plan of action.
vi) Moreover, prolife politicians who are asked that question don't have to dissemble. To begin with, the question is academic. There's no reason a prolife politician should allow himself to be drawn into that particular debate. A politician is a man of action. The only pertinent questions are policy questions. Whether mothers who consent to abortion should be punished is a question that's designed to foment unfounded prejudice against the prolife movement.
There's no general duty to say whatever you think. Indeed, there's sometimes a duty to say less than you think. To be tactful. To cover for the innocent.
Rather than answer that hypothetical question, a prolife should simply reformulate the question. Instead of debating that counterfactual proposition, he should say the real question is about protecting babies from harm. That's an entirely legitimate way of framing the issue. And that's a strong way to frame it. That puts abortion apologists on the defensive. "You mean, you don't think we should protect babies from harm?"
vii) Finally, I'd distinguish between politicians and pundits. There needs to be a division of labor in the prolife movement. Because social commentators aren't running for public office, they can get away with making impolitic statements. It is important for some Christians to discuss the culpability of all consenting parties to an abortion. Unwelcome truths need to be spoken–especially when they are unwelcome. But everyone doesn't have the same responsibilities in that regard.
By the same token, a high-level advisor to a prolife executive, lawmaker, or judge may need to be more circumspect in his public statements than a garden-variety pundit.
By the same token, a high-level advisor to a prolife executive, lawmaker, or judge may need to be more circumspect in his public statements than a garden-variety pundit.
Saturday, April 02, 2016
Just build a wall
I'll like to make a brief observation about Trump's proposal to build a wall to keep illegal aliens out. Presumably, the idea is to build a wall across the US-Mexico border.
There's one little logistical hitch: last time I checked, the USA was not a landlocked country. So Trump's wall would have to extend across the West Coast, Gulf Coast, and East Coast to seal our borders. The US shoreline is about 95,500 miles long. (The US-Mexico border is about 2000 miles.)
That presents some intriguing engineering challenges. To begin with, the wall has to be deep enough to reach the continental shelf.
In addition, a coastal seawall would completely impede fishing, shipping, naval operations, &c.
Furthermore, a border wall would dam the Colorado and Rio Grande Rivers.
Then there's the question of what to do about pesky illegals who try to sneak in through the northern border via Alaska. Admittedly, that's not a big deal right now, but if we wall off the East coast, West coast, Gulf coast, and US–Mexico border, that will make other points of entry more popular.
An alternative might be a build a geodesic dome or plexiglass dome over the continental US. Make the US a giant terrarium. Of course, that would eliminate international air transport, &c. But it's a small price to pay for sealing the border.
Standing Bear
1. To infidels, the talking "snake" in Gen 3 is all you need to know to know that Scripture is ridiculous mythological fiction. I've discussed the identity of the tempter on various occasions. Now I'd like to approach the issue from two new angles.
2. When we read a book from a different culture, it's easy for us to think we know what something means even though we are way off the mark. Likewise, the things that strike us as the most palpably false may seem that way because we misunderstand it. It didn't seem false to the original audience.
Suppose a Biblically and theologically illiterate college student were to pick up a copy of The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan. There's a lot that still comes through. The plot still works. Our reader can still appreciate the psychological characterizations.
However, consider some of the names of the characters, viz. Christian, Evangelist, Worldly Wiseman, Formalist, Prudence, Piety, Charity, Apollyon.
Bunyan is an evangelist as well as a storyteller. He isn't subtle. He gives the reader very broad clues by how he names the characters.
Even so, for a biblically and theologically illiterate reader, these names would be opaque. There are lots of things a reader will miss if he lacks the requisite theological background.
3. The frame of reference that a modern, Western, secularized reader brings to Gen 2-3 doesn't necessarily equip him to catch certain nuances. Suppose we compare that to a storyteller from a very different cultural milieu. For instance, suppose a village atheist read a traditional American Indian story. The story has characters with names like Raven, Black Elk, Black Hawk, Black Fox, Standing Bear, Running Eagle, and Lone Wolf. In addition, the characters speak.
Our village atheist shakes his head: "Those poor primitive Indians with their superstitious belief in talking animals!"
That illustrates the danger of interpretation when you don't know the cultural code language. The reader thinks the storyteller is ignorant when, in fact, it's the reader who's ignorant. The patronizing reader makes himself look foolish.
The fact that an American Indian story has characters with animal names doesn't mean these were talking animals. Rather, it means Indians gave people animal names. Real people!
I think that's the kind of thing we should keep in mind when we read Gen 3. We need to make allowance for these interpretive options.
4. When reading the Bible, it's useful to appreciate the emblematic significance of venomous snakes in the ANE and Roman Empire. The connotations of snakes in cultures that practice ophiolatry and ophiomancy.
However, that's not just a thing of the past. Venomous snakes (as well as constrictors) exert a perennial fascination. That's transcultural.
Lots of boys like to collect snakes, including venomous snakes–much to the consternation of their mothers. Some of these boys grow up to be herpetologists. And some of these boys grow up to be private snake collectors.
They import the most dangerous snakes on the planet. Mambas, cobras, kraits, Bushmasters, gaboon vipers, golden lancehead vipers, &c. For some men, venomous snakes have a magnetic appeal: the more death-defying, the more appealing. So the aura that venomous snakes had in the ancient world isn't culturebound.
5. I'd add that this can illustrate the limitations of Bible scholarship. Boys who grow up to be Bible scholars tend to be nerdy, bookish boys. I daresay few Bible scholars are herpetologists or private snake collectors.
When they write commentaries on Gen 3, there's a dimension to the "snake" that's apt to elude Bible scholars–a dimension which a herpetologist or snake collector might naturally tune into.
6. This, in turn, may help explain why the narrator gave the tempter a serpentine name. He's trading on popular connotations of snakes.
i) A venomous snake is a natural symbol of death. To call a character a snake clues the reader into the fact that this is a threatening character. A potentially deadly character.
Indeed, I think that's what motivates some snake collectors. They are literally staring death in the face. In fact, some of them take it to the next level by handling venomous snakes with their bare hands. You have the same dynamic with Appalachian snake-handling cults. Tempting fate.
The fact that Eve is oblivious to the malevolent character of the tempter generates dramatic tension. The reader knows something she doesn't. Notice that she doesn't address the tempter as a snake. That's between the reader and the narrator.
ii) Not only are venomous snakes natural symbols of death, but uncanny death. Except for pythons and anacondas, snakes don't look dangerous. It's only their reputation that makes them fearsome.
Especially for a prescientific audience, there's something mysterious about how snakes kill their prey–or humans. What makes a snakebite fatal? If you're bitten by a house cat, that won't kill you. But if you're bitten by a venomous snake, you may pine away in a few hours, or less.
Of course, we have some understanding of venom, as well as different kinds of venom (e.g. haemotoxic, neurotoxic). But ancient people weren't privy to that information.
There's nothing mysterious about how a lion, bear, or crocodile kills its prey. And predators like that look dangerous! There's nothing inexplicable about the lethality of a lion or crocodile, but there is something inexplicable about the lethality of a snake, if you lack scientific knowhow.
So that may be an additional reason why the narrator gave the temper a serpentine name. That triggers magical associations.
Friday, April 01, 2016
Prolife strategy
Trump blundered into the abortion this week by remarking on the need to punish women who have abortions. Of course, Trump doesn't really believe that. It did, however, make an old issue resurface, and I see some confusion on the part of Christians in responding to Trump.
i) Certainly there are women who have uncoerced abortions. There are women who have abortions for convenience. There are men and women who have no compunction about killing somebody who's an obstacle to their ambitions, so long as they can get away with it.
ii) That said, laws have more than one function. Some laws are designed to exact justice. Conversely, some laws are designed to deter certain kinds of social behavior. And many laws attempt to do both.
iii) As a practical matter, it isn't politically feasible to pass laws that punish women who have abortions. Not only do such laws have no possibility of passage, but the very effort to sponsor bills to that effect would backfire. It would play right into the hands of the abortion lobby.
That isn't fair, but in a just world, we wouldn't have abortion on demand in the first place.
iv) In addition, the dispensation of justice is ultimately up to God. Up to a point, it's good to have laws that punish wrongdoing, but at the end of the day, no one will elude justice. That's what the final judgment is about.
v) In the meantime, the primary goal of the prolife movement is to prevent as many abortions as possible, given the political realities. With that in mind, we focus on deterrence rather than retribution. The priority is to save lives, not exact justice.
Moreover, given the political climate, these are competing values. Ideally, it's good to have laws that deter wrongdoing and punish wrongdoing alike. But if you can't do both, then you should prioritize saving babies, and leave it to God to right the scales of justice. We have no duty to engage in futile, counterproductive tactics.
Mao v. Stalin
Trump v. Clinton is often framed in terms of the lesser-evil principle. I think that’s a valid principle.
However, I think the principle becomes worthless if it never bottoms out. If there’s no threshold below which a candidate, however atrocious, can ever be out-of-bounds, then the comparison is morally compromised beyond recognition.
For instance, some people say not voting for Trump is a vote for Clinton. In a sense.
But suppose you had a choice between Stalin and Mao. Suppose you concluded that Mao was marginally better than Stalin (or vice versa). But when two candidates are as bad as Stalin and Mao (in my hypothetical), is the lesser-evil principle even germane anymore?
What if you said, not voting for Mao is a vote for Stalin. Even if there’s a sense in which that’s the case, so what?
The real problem of evil
It's funny how atheist philosophers are unconsciously conditioned by a particular way of viewing issues. Because the problem of evil is conventionally framed in certain terms, atheist philosophers are stuck in that rut. They just keep moving in the same groove.
I've already noted this in reference to the God who's targeted by the argument from evil. Even though atheist philosophers are usually training their guns on Christianity, albeit tacitly, they don't formulate the argument of evil in terms of Yahweh. Instead, it's much more generic.
Part of the reason is that some (or many) atheist philosophers don't take the Bible as their frame of reference–despite the fact that they are usually targeting Christianity.
Now let's consider another example. To my knowledge, the argument from evil is always formulated in general terms. Human suffering generally, or even animal suffering.
It's striking to contrast that orientation with the viewpoint of Scripture. In Scripture, the problem of suffering isn't about human suffering in general–much less animal suffering–but the suffering of God's people in particular. The issue of why God doesn't intercede more often to deliver his people from suffering. From a Biblical perspective, that's the real problem of evil.
To the extent that Scripture indicates a tension between God and suffering, it's not in reference to suffering in general. Moreover, it's not about God's existence, but God's benevolence. Atheists fail to engage the argument where Scripture engages the argument. If you wish to attack Christian theism, you must assume the viewpoint of Scripture for the sake of argument.
Of course, the very fact that Scripture is filled with believers who complain to God about their dereliction goes to show that while the plight of believers may seem inexplicable, it is not unexpected. In that practical sense, it's consistent with God's existence, even if that's not an explanation.
The tension is exacerbated by certain divine assurances that seem to promise more than they deliver, viz. unqualified prayer promises.
Is there any way to relieve the tension? A few suggestions:
i) The soul-making theodicy has something to offer. That's not a complete answer, but it makes a contribution. For instance, suppose you have two high school buddies who go hiking. One of them sprains his ankle. Of course, that will slow them way down. Because we're bipedal creatures, we can barely walk with a sprained ankle. That one injury almost immobilizes a man.
Suppose there's a storm in the forecast. If they are overtaken by the storm, there's the risk of death by exposure. If the uninjured hiker leaves his companion behind, he can make it to shelter in time. But that will mean leaving his companion to fend for himself.
If the injured hiker knew that his buddy was going to abandon him in a pinch, they'd never be friends in the first place. If he had a premonition that this was going happen if they went hiking that day, he'd never look at his classmate the same way. The crisis reveals something that was always missing, but only came to the fore when their friendship was put to the test.
Conversely, suppose his buddy hazards his own prospects for survival by remaining with his injured companion. That, too, taps into something hidden. Something only a crisis brings out into the open.
ii) When believers and unbelievers suffer alike, when they experience the same kinds of afflictions, how believers cope with suffering can be a witness to the world. And that's a biblical theme. Unless believers and unbelievers were in comparable situations, it would not be possible to compare and contrast how they deal with the same challenges.
iii) You also have the principle of eschatological compensations, viz. "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us" (Rom 8:18); "For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison" (2 Cor 4:17).
In some measure, promises of divine deliverance are ultimately about what's ultimate. Not about deliverance in this life, but deliverance from this life.
Bergoglio’s Gig: Siding With the “Progressives” on Sexuality?
 |
| Cardinal Christoph Schönborn of Vienna |
ROME – In a move possibly hinting that Pope Francis will side with progressives on some contentious matters regarding family life, the Vatican announced Thursday that a keenly anticipated document from the pontiff will be released April 8 and presented by Cardinal Christoph Schönborn of Vienna, Austria.
The document, technically known as an “apostolic exhortation,” is designed to draw conclusions from two tumultuous summits of Catholic bishops from around the world, called “synods,” on issues pertaining to the family held in October 2014 and October 2015.
Thorns and thistles
We don't know a lot about the Garden of Eden. According to Gen 2, it was located somewhere in Mesopotamia. It was irrigated by river water. It contained fruit trees and tame animals.
It's interesting to compare Eden to an oasis. For instance:
The oasis presents a drastic contrast involving a miniature "paradise" embedded in the vast, enveloping desolation. This is a very extreme example.
One can imagine a little paradise that's utterly idyllic on the inside. If you're within the confines of the enchanted sanctuary, it will be lush in all directions. A thin rim of trees obstructs the view of the outside world. Yet only that ring of foliage a few trees deep partitions paradise from desolation. If you were to take a few steps into the verdant barrier, then step outside and see the world from the other side, your impression would be completely different. There's so little that separates you from the wasteland. An oasis, fringed by fruit trees and shade trees. An eye drop of life in a sea of sand.
Imagine if you were banished from the oasis. Nothing but desert as far as the eye can see.
I'm not suggesting that the buffer between the Garden of Eden and the world beyond was quite that tenuous. For one thing, the Garden was a riverine setting rather than an oasis. Still, the Garden may well have been situated in a narrow river valley. The countryside just over the ridge might be arid and barren. The Garden was a gift.
Crossing the finish line
Scroll down to the interview with Paul Helm:
http://ashfieldpresbyterian.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/AP1002.pdf
http://ashfieldpresbyterian.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/AP1002.pdf
Persons and policies
So the National Enquirer accuses Cruz of having affairs. Thus far, this story doesn't seem to have any legs. I think there are several reasons for that:
i) The National Enquirer lacks credibility. That doesn't necessarily mean it's wrong, but there's no presumption that it's right. Every week, as you wait in line at the checkout stand, you're subjected to hyperbolic headlines. The print equivalent of clickbait.
ii) I've read that two of the named women in the story have denied the allegations.
iii) Another problem is how the allegations cut against the grain of Cruz's dorky image. These aren't accusations of harassment, but affairs. Sexual harassment involves unwanted overtures, but affairs are consensual. Cruz's dweebish demeanor makes him an implausible ladykiller. I'm not saying it can't be true, yet he seems miscast for the role that the National Inquirer has assigned to him.
iv) But suppose, for the sake of argument, that the charges are true. Let's further assume that Hillary will be the Democrat nominee:
Given a choice, I'd vote for a vicious candidate with virtuous policies over a vicious candidate with vicious policies.
What is more, I'd vote for a vicious candidate with virtuous policies over a virtuous candidate with vicious policies.
When I vote for a candidate, that's not an endorsement of the person. That just means I think they have better policies. The pertinent question is not, in the first instance, is he (or she) a good or bad person, but will he do good things for Americans or bad things to Americans. It's less about his personal morality than the morality of his presidential initiatives.
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Calvary
One of Bart Ehrman's stock examples of alleged discrepancies in this Gospels is his contention that Mark and Luke present contradictory accounts of the Passion. I'll make a few observations:
i) Part of the problem is with his illogical assumption that if one account includes information not mentioned in another account, that must be fictional or unhistorical.
ii) It doesn't occur to Ehrman that if someone is in a state of extreme physical and emotional distress, that person may well be subject to mood swings. Surely that's a commonplace of human experience. People in that condition may oscillate between hope to despair. It's perfectly realistic for the same person to have conflicting feelings–especially when traumatized. It would be surprising of Jesus did not experience a gamut of emotions during this crisis.
iii) In addition, a subjective feeling of divine abandonment is entirely consistent with an objective reality of divine provision. That's a common motif in the Prophets and Psalms. A sense of utter desolation doesn't mean the sufferer has in fact been deserted by God.
The Urtext and textual criticism
Traditionally, the aim of OT and NT textual criticism has been to determine the original text (or autograph) of the canonical books. However, some contemporary critics have challenged the operating assumption. Take Bart Ehrman:
Assume, for a second, just for the sake of the argument, that chapter 21 and 1:1 — 18 were not original components of the Gospel. What does that do for the textual critic who wants to reconstruct the "original" text? Which original is being constructed? All our Greek manuscripts contain the passages in question. So does the textual critic reconstruct as the original text the form of the Gospel that originally contained them? But shouldn't we consider the "original" form to be the earlier version, which lacked them ? And if one wants to reconstruct that earlier form, is it fair to stop there, with reconstructing, say, the first edition of John's Gospel? Why not go even further and try to reconstruct the sources that lie behind the Gospel, such as the signs sources and the discourse sources, or even the oral traditions that lie behind them? B. Ehrman, Misquoting Jesus (HarperCollins, 2005), 61-62.
There are many problems with that example:
i) Textual criticism is scarcely unique to the Bible. Producing critical editions of Shakespeare's plays involves the same notion–an original text.
ii) It's true that words like "original" or "autograph" are vague without further definition. These are terms of art in textual criticism.
iii) Ehrman's statement is silly and confused. It willfully confounds textual criticism with source criticism. But there's no good reason to conflate the two. A preliminary, unpublished draft is not a different edition of the same book, but an earlier compositional stage. The question at issue is not the stages of composition, or sources (if any) which may have fed into the composition, but the final product. Not a rough draft, but a final draft. The text that the Bible writer issued and intended for popular consumption.
iv) Here's how one textual critic defines it:
When we speak of the original text, we are referring to the "published" text–that is, the text as it was in its final edited form and released for circulation in the Christian community. For some books of the NT, there is little difference between the original composition and the published text. After the author wrote or dictated his word, he (or an associate) made the final editorial corrections and then released it for distribution. Philip Comfort, "Texts and Manuscripts of the New Testament," P. Comfort, ed. The Origin of the Bible (Tyndale, 1992), 183.
If that involves collaboration between the author and a scribe, we could dub the original or autograph the authorized text. Say a scribe takes dictation in shorthand. After he writes it out in longhand, the author reviews the transcript, edits it, the scribe then produces a final draft, incorporating the corrections. If the revision meets with the satisfaction of the author, he signs off on that. If we postulate that the scribe is inspired, then that simplifies the process.
v) This is not an arbitrary definition. The books of Scripture aren't diaries. The author isn't writing to and for himself. Rather, he produces a text for wider circulation. The autograph doesn't consist of his notes, but the edition he intended for popular consumption and issued for general distribution. That's how it was meant to function.
vi) But suppose, for the sake of argument, that there was more than one authentic edition in circulation, or more than one authorized copy in circulation. Why does Ehrman think that would be a problem? They'd all be authentic literary products of the writer. All of them would meet with his approval. They'd all be authoritative. It's not as if the prologue and epilogue of John contradiction what's in-between.
vii) However, we can approach the identification from the other end: Instead of asking, What is the original?, we can ask, What is not the original?
The traditional objective of textual criticism is to strip away changes in the text that were introduced by subsequent scribes. What is unoriginal, what is not the autograph, are changes or variations added to the text by someone other than the author or the author in collaboration with his amanuensis. That's a clear-cut distinction. A principled distinction, not an ad hoc distinction.
To take a secular illustration, consider an editor who tampers with The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to eliminate the racist slurs, without alerting the reader to his changes.
viii) I'd mention a further qualification. Some changes don't affect the sense. Suppose a 4C scribe spelled a few words differently than the author or his amanuensis. Recovering the autograph hardly requires us to recover the original spelling. It's the same word. I don't think there was standardized spelling back then. It would be mindlessly pedantic to insist that restoring the autographic text requires us to identify and "correct" changes that have no bearing on the semantic content of the text.
Chuck Hill on the original text
Bart Ehrman raises questions about the identity of the original text. How's how one scholar delineates the issue:
In The Early Text of the NT, you suggest that David Parker “gives the impression that concern for the original text is simply a religious phenomenon, driven by pressure from churches who desire an ‘authoritative text’” (p. 4). You point out, rightly in my opinion, that religious belief is hardly the only motivation for seeking a work’s original text. But what is the relationship between a high view of Scripture (as found, say, in the Westminster Confession) and the quest for the original text? Is such a view of scripture viable without the concept of a single original text?
Having a high view of Scripture, as you pointed out, is not the only motivation for seeking an original text. I don’t know why anyone would make that assumption. But is a high view of Scripture viable without ‘the concept of a single original text’? The short answer, I suppose, has to be ‘yes’, but it depends, of course, on what is meant by ‘the concept of a single original text.’ You can, of course, make a distinction between the original text (let’s just define it as the text as it left the author’s hands for the last time, with the author’s intent for release) and the ‘Initial text’ or Ausgangstext (the text we reconstruct as the source of all the known readings). But even the ‘Initial text’ is a form of the text that originated with the author. Different compositional stages of a book (e.g., a book before the author added a prologue, or decided to insert new material, etc.) are not different editions of the book, and it just seems like obfuscation to bring them into the picture.
The main, possible complication, I suppose, would be if the author did make a second edition (as some people have argued for the text of Acts). Let’s say (for the sake of argument) Paul sent a letter to the Roman church and kept his own personal copy, then later modified his copy in some way, intending to make this revised copy the basis for copies that would be more widely distributed to the churches, perhaps along with a collection of his letters. In this case you could say there are two ‘original’, authorial texts of Romans, essentially two editions.
Each of these would have originated with the author with his intention to be ‘released’ or published. Each one, I think we would have to say, was inspired, written by Paul in the exercise of his apostolic ministry. So here we would have two ‘originals’. In my opinion, the natural standard we would be seeking (if we could tell the difference) would be the final version that left Paul’s control, as representing the author’s final, intended ‘original’, even if it was not the ‘original’ original.
Or, let’s say that the ‘release’ of a book like Revelation, or even one of the Gospels, for that matter, was marked by the sending out of several ‘initial’ copies as part of the release. What if there were minor scribal differences between them? In this case, presumably there was still one single master copy from which other copies were made, which would be the logical ‘original’. But what if this, or any other, first exemplar itself contained errors that were made and somehow not corrected, in the inscription process? Then the ‘original’ text, or the normative text, would presumably go back to the author’s intention, no matter what happened between thought and words appearing on a page. This is why Warfield, in his book on NT textual criticism, identified the original text as the text intended by the author.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
If at first you don't secede, try try again
Looks like the South has found a way to win the Civil War after all. If Southern states pass laws against unisex restrooms and locker rooms, blue states will secede from the union by splitting from the South:
It's secession in reverse. The effect is the same, but without the body count and destruction of infrastructure. Red states now have a nonviolent method of indirectly seceding from the union by provoking blue states to suspend interstate relations between blue state governments and red state governments. All red states have to do is pass laws against unisex restrooms and locker rooms, then sit back and watch blue states break with red states.
The evangelical flotilla
I recently did a post on folk Catholicism. There is, of course, such a thing as folk Protestantism. Does it have the same problems? Is it a double standard to attack folk Catholicism, but act as though folk Protestantism isn't in the same (sinking) boat? Should we put our own house in order before we presume to take aim at Catholicism?
i) Catholicism and Protestantism share some generic problems in common, apart from problems distinctive to Catholicism (or some particular branch of Protestantism). Due to human sin and human foibles, to some degree you'd have similar problems in any human organization. Put the same people in different organizations, and the same problems will resurface.
ii) In addition, specific theological traditions, and denominations which exemplify those traditions, can have problems distinctive to defects in their traditions. This can be true for Catholicism and Protestantism alike, although it's variable across the spectrum of Protestant belief and practice. That's not a uniform problem in Protestantism.
iii) As a blogger, I focus on the war of ideas, because that's where I can make a broader contribution. There's a sense in which what ultimately counts isn't orthodoxy, per se, but the degree to which we internalize orthodoxy. Sanctification. But that's a question of individual appropriation. I have my own life to live. I can't live your life for you. What you do with your own life and opportunities is up to you. That's between you and God. At most, I can give advice.
iv) Because Protestants reject a Magisterium, Protestantism is inherently decentralized. As such, no one individual, or oligarchy, directs the Protestant movement in general. Likewise, church officers generally have limited ecclesiastical authority even in the local church.
So beyond the war of ideas, I don't fret over the state of Protestantism. I criticize what I think is wrong. But I'm not ultimately responsible for what other people do. I didn't create the situation. And I have no direct control over what happens. It is what it is.
v) In addition, although there are problems in the Protestant movement, I don't criticize Protestantism the same way I criticize Catholicism since I don't think Protestantism, per se, is misguided. I don't object to Protestantism in principle. After all, that's what I am!
In another sense, I care more about what happens in Protestantism than Catholicism. But because it's individualistic, the fortunes of my faith aren't tied to the fortunes of the movement in general, or any particular denomination, or independent church, or evangelical college, or whatever. We're not in the same boat. Protestantism is a flotilla, not a passenger ship. If your boat springs a leak, my boat doesn't take on water. Our boats sink or float independently. If your boat capsizes, I'll throw you a lifeline. Planks connect some boats to other boats in the flotilla. But these can be withdrawn.
vi) By contrast, the pope is an absolute monarchy. He has tremendous authority over what happens under his roof. He can set policy. He can establish an accountability structure. He can impose discipline. In fact, the papacy use to run a tight ship.
That doesn't mean there weren't abuses in Catholicism, but that wasn't because the papacy lost control; rather, the papacy fostered or consciously allowed abuses.
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