Trump's revised travel ban

http://www.nationalreview.com/article/445562/donald-trump-travel-ban-smart-anti-terror-strategy

From exclusivism to inclusivism

Early bishop Ignatius of Antioch (c. 35-107) writes that “if any follow a schismatic [that is, the founder of a religious group outside of the bishop-ruled catholic mainstream] they will not inherit the Kingdom of God.” (Letter of Ignatius to the Philadelphians 3:3) Leading catholic theologian Origen of Alexandria (c. 186-255) wrote: “outside the Church no one is saved.” (Dupuis 2001, 86-7) Yet Origen also held, at least tentatively, that eventually all rational beings will be saved.

Thus, the slogan that there is no salvation outside the church (Latin: Extra ecclesiam nulla salus) was meant to communicate at bare minimum the uniqueness of the Christian church as God’s instrument of salvation since the resurrection of Jesus. The slogan was nearly always, in the first three Christian centuries, wielded in the context of disputes with “heretical” Christian groups, the point being that one can’t be saved through membership in such groups. (Dupuis 2001, 86-9)

However, what about Jews, pagans, unbaptized babies, or people who never have a chance to hear the Christian message? After catholic Christianity became the official religion of the empire (c. 381), it was usually assumed that the message had been preached throughout the world, leaving all adult non-Christians without excuse. Thus, Augustine of Hippo (354-430) and Fulgentius of Ruspe (468-533) interpreted the slogan as implying that all non-Christians are damned, because they bear the guilt of “original sin” stemming from the sin of Adam, which has not been as it were washed away by baptism. (Dupuis 2000, 91-2)

Water baptism, from the beginning, had been the initiation rite into Christianity, but it was still unclear what church membership strictly required. Some theorized, for instance, that a “baptism of blood,” that is, martyrdom, would be enough to save unbaptized catechumens. Later theologians added a “baptism of desire,” which was either a desire to be baptized or the inclination to form such a desire, either way enough to secure saving membership in the church. In the first case, a person who is killed in an accident on her way to be baptized would nonetheless be in the church. In the second, even a virtuous pagan might be a church member. This “baptism of desire” was officially affirmed by the Roman Catholic Council of Trent in 1547.

With the split of the catholic movement into Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox branches, “the church” was understood in Western contexts to be specifically the Roman Catholic church. Thus, famously, in a papal bull of 1302, called by its first words Unam Sanctam (that is, “One Holy”), Pope Boniface VIII (r. 1294-1303) declared that outside the Roman Catholic church, “there is neither salvation nor remission of sins,” and “it is altogether necessary to salvation for every human creature to be subject to” the pope. (Plantinga 1999, 124-5; Neuner and Dupuis 2001, 305) Note that this might still be interpreted with or without the various non-standard ways to obtain church membership mentioned above. The context of this statement was not a discussion of the fate of non-Christians, but rather a political struggle between the pope and the king of France.

In the Decree for the Copts of the General Council of Florence (1442), a papal bull issued by pope Eugene IV (r. 1431-47), for the first time in an official Roman Catholic doctrinal document the slogan was asserted not only with respect to heretics and schismatics, but also concerning Jews and pagans. (Neuner and Dupuis 2001, 309-10) It also seems to close the door to non-standard routes to church membership, saying that “never was anyone, conceived by a man and a woman, liberated from the devil’s dominion except by faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Tanner 1990, 575) Non-Catholics will “go into the everlasting fire…unless they are joined to the catholic church before the end of their lives…nobody can be saved, no matter how much he has given away in alms and even if has shed his blood in the name of Christ, unless he has persevered in the bosom and the unity of the catholic church.” (Tanner 1990, 578)

This exclusivistic or “rigorist” way of understanding the slogan, on which only the Roman Catholic church could provide the “cure” needed by all humans, was the most common Catholic stance on religious diversity until mid-nineteenth century. But some had always held on to theories about ways into the church other than water baptism, and since the European discovery of the New World it had become clear that the gospel had not been preached to the whole world, and many held that such pagans were non-culpably ignorant of the gospel. This view was affirmed by Pope Pius X (r. 1846-78) in his Singulari Quadam (1854): “outside the Apostolic Roman Church no one can be saved…On the other hand…those who live in ignorance of the true religion, if such ignorance be invincible, are not subject to any guilt in this matter before the eyes of the Lord.” (Neuner and Dupuis 2001, 311)

Nineteenth century popes condemned Enlightenment-inspired theories of religion pluralism about truth and salvation, then called “indifferentism,” it being, allegedly, indifferent which major religion one chose, since all were of equal value. At the same time, they argued that many people who are outside the one church cannot be blamed for this, and so will not be condemned by God.

Such views are consistent with exclusivism in the sense that Roman Catholic Christianity is the one divinely provided and so most effective instrument of salvation, as well as the most true religion, and the “true religion” in the sense that any claim which contradicts it official teaching is false. Letters by Pius XII (r. 1939-58) declared that a “by an unconscious desire and longing” non-Catholics may enjoy a saving relationship with the church. (Dupuis 2001, 127-9) Whether these non-Catholics are thought to be in the church by a non-standard means, or whether they are said to be not in the church “in reality” but only “in desire,” it was held that they were saved by God’s grace. (Neuner and Dupuis 2001, 329)

Since the Vatican II council (1962-5), many Catholic theologians have embraced what most philosophers will consider some form of inclusivism rather than a suitably qualified exclusivism, with a minority opting for some sort of pluralism. (On the majority inclusivism, see section 4b below.) The impetus for this change was fueled by statements from that council (their Latin titles:Lumen Gentium, Ad Gentes, Nostra Aetate, Gaudium et Spes, Heilsoptimismus), which are in various ways positive towards non-Catholics. One asserts not merely the possibility, but the actuality of salvation for those who are inculpably ignorant of the gospel but who seek God and try to follow his will as expressed through their own conscience. Another, without saying that people may be saved through membership in them, affirms various positive values in other religions, including true teachings, which serve as divinely ordained preparations for reception the gospel. Catholics are exhorted to patient, friendly dialogue with members of other religions. (Dupuis 2000, 161-5) Some Catholic theologians have seen the seeds or even the basic elements of inclusivism in these statements, while others view them as within the orbit of a suitably articulated exclusivism. (Dupuis 2000, 165-170) A key area of disagreement is whether or not these imply that a person may be saved by means of their participation in some other religion. Still other Catholic theologians have found these moves to be positive but not nearly different enough from the more pessimistic sort of exclusivism. Such theologians, prominently Hans Küng (b. 1928) and Paul Knitter (b. 1939), have formulated various pluralist theories. (Kärkkäinen 2003, 197-204, 309-17)

http://www.iep.utm.edu/reli-div/#SH3c

Since the latter twentieth century many Roman Catholic theologians have explored non-exclusivist options. As explained above (section 3c) a major impetus for this has been statements issued by the latest official council (Vatican II, 1962-5). One goes so far as to say that “the Holy Spirit offers to all [humans] the possibility of being associated, in a way known to God, with the Paschal Mystery [that is, the saving death and resurrection of Jesus].” (Gaudium et Spes 22, quoted in Dupuis 2001, 162) Some Catholic theologians see the groundwork or beginning in these documents for an inclusivist theory, on which other religions have saving value.

Influential German theologian Karl Rahner (1904-84), in his essay “Christianity and the Non-Christian Religions,” argues that before people encounter Christianity, other religions may be the divinely appointed means of their salvation. Insofar as they in good conscience practice what is good in their religion, people in other religions receive God’s grace and are “anonymous Christians,” people who are being saved through Christ, though they do not realize it. All Christians believe that some were saved before Christianity, through Judaism. So too at least some other religions must still be means for salvation, though not necessarily to the same degree, for God wills the salvation of all humankind. But these lesser ways should and eventually will give way to Christianity, the truest religion, intended for all humankind. (Plantinga 1999, 288-303)

Subsequent papal statements have moved cautiously in Rahner’s direction, affirming the work of the Holy Spirit not only in the people in other religions, but also in those religions themselves, so that in the practice of what is good in those religions, people may respond to God’s grace and be saved, unbeknownst to them, by Christ. Nonetheless, the Roman Catholic church remains the unique divine instrument; no one is saved without some positive relation to it. (Dupuis 2001, 170-9; Neuner and Dupuis 2001, 350-1)

http://www.iep.utm.edu/reli-div/#SH4b

For God so loved the worlds

In general, Christian philosophers and apologists are hostile to the multiverse, because that appeal is often used to nullify the fine-tuning argument or the strong anthropic principle. Two notable exceptions are Don Page and Jeff Zweerink.

I don't object to the idea of a multiverse. By that I mean I don't think there's anything antecedently unfitting about God creating an ensemble in which alternate timelines play out. 

The problem is when a multiverse is derived from a particular interpretation of quantum mechanics. The theological problem with the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics is that rather than having a selection of parallel worlds based on divine wisdom and benevolence, you have an indiscriminate totality based on physical determinism. The result is that many parallel worlds will suffer from pervasive gratuitous evil. If every physical possibility happens, then there will be actual universes in which everybody is damned. Fallen worlds without redemption. Fallen worlds with no compensatory goods. I think that's incompatible with divine wisdom and benevolence.

Mass extinction

In response to Plantinga's evolutionary argument against naturalism, it's common for Darwinians to counter that the very fact that species survive and thrive is evidence that natural selection selects for true beliefs or reliable instincts. If, say, gazelles were inattentive to movements in the high grass (caused by stalking lions), or inattentive to warning calls by birds (who can spot stalking lions in the high grass), &c., that species would become extinct. 

Now, whatever we make of that response on its own grounds, Darwinians (e.g. David Raup, William Provine, Stephen Jay Gould) commonly deploy another argument as evidence for naturalistic evolution: mass extinction. The claim is that given the randomness of survival, and the terrifying attrition rate, this just isn't what we'd expect if there's a wise, benevolent, and provident God. 

Once again, whatever we make of that contention on its own grounds, it seems to be in strident tension with the response to Plantinga. And course, that's in part because it was kicking around before Plantinga's argument. So it didn't anticipate his argument.

The point, though, is that it's hard to see how Darwinians can simultaneously appeal to survival to deflect Plantinga's argument while also, in a different context, pointing to mass extinction. Indeed, they commonly say that something like 99.9% of all species became extinct. 

Why doesn't God do more?

An issue in theodicy is how often God should intervene. In principle, that ranges along a continuum from absolute nonintervention to constant intervention to prevent evil or make the situation better.

Here's the basic argument: if it's not good for God to intervene all the time, then the degree of divine intervention is bound to be arbitrary. Like the sorites paradox. Unless God ought to intervene constantly, he could step in one more time or one less time, and the cut off is arbitrary. Anything short of constant intervention will be arbitrary. Yes, he could have done it one more time, but where does that stop. If he could step in one more time, he could step in two more times, or one less time, or two less times. There is no logical tipping point where a little less is too little and a little more is just enough. 

Now, I think that's somewhat simplistic. Just about every intervention or nonintervention will cause a chain reaction. It makes a difference in terms of what future eventuates. It's not arbitrary in that respect. But it is arbitrary in the other respect. 

Reviewing reviews of the Licona/Dillahunty debate

I'd like to make a few more observations about James White's review of the Licona/Dillahunty debate. That's because his review goes to the question of how to interpret presuppositionalism and differentiate presupositionalism from evidentialism. White was actually siding with the atheist by saying that in some of his exchanges with Licona, Dillahunty was "knocking the ball out of the park". 

1. It isn't clear what White's position is on the occult and the paranormal. Does he deny the occurrence of non-Christian miracles (and other suchlike)? Licona wasn't appealing to that evidence to adjudicate rival religious claims, but to adjudicate the contrast between naturalism and supernaturalism. White doesn't appear to grasp the actual state of the argument. 

Likewise, we need to be clear on what certain phenomena attest. If, say, some modern-day exorcisms prove the existence of demons, that doesn't mean you should become a devil-worshipper. If, say, some modern-day cases of witchcraft prove the power of sorcery, that doesn't mean you could become a Satanist. Where do I sign up? Corroborative evidence for the dark side doesn't attest it in the sense that you ought join the dark side. A validation is not necessarily a recommendation. 

2. White faulted Licona for failing to challenge Dillahunty's creatureliness. He said Licona granted that Dillahunty has the right to judge God. Granted the grounds. White said Licona failed to point out that atheists like Dillahunty don't have the right to make such determinations. They have no basis for their reasons. White appealed to Rom 1. This raises a number of distinct issues:

i) In a debate over the existence of God, or some related issue, a Christian apologist can't directly appeal to divine authority for the obvious reason that God's existence is the very question at issue. In a debate with an atheist over God's existence (or some related issue), a Christian apologist is assuming a burden of proof for the sake of argument. And at that stage of the argument, God's existence has yet to be established, so it would be premature and question-begging to cite divine authority at that preliminary stage of the argument. God's existence is the conclusion of the argument.

This doesn't mean the onus is on the Christian. Both sides have a burden of proof in that format. 

ii) That said, a Christian can certainly challenge the atheist's moral authority. Indeed, many secular thinkers concede that naturalism cannot justify moral realism. 

iii) In addition, this was in reference to Dillahunty's allusion to the argument from divine hiddenness. That, however, is not a case of the atheist standing in judgment over God. Rather, divine hiddenness argument proposes to be an internal critique of Christianity. It alleges that Christian theology is inconsistent, for if God wants everyone to believe in him, he could make himself more evident to everyone. 

iv) There are, of course, ways to counter the divine hiddenness argument.  Dillahunty was begging the question by asserting that the evidence for the Resurrection is insufficient.

v) Moreover, as White correctly observed, the divine hiddenness argument is premised on assumptions specific to freewill theism rather than Calvinism. Therefore, it has no purchase on Calvinism. 

vi) Finally, this was just a diversionary tactic on Dillahunty's part. Instead of directly engaging the evidence adduced by Licona, Dillahunty deflects attention away from that issue by changing the subject. But the divine hiddenness argument is not a refutation of Licona's specific evidence for the Resurrection, or for the supernatural. So that's just a decoy. 

3. White acts as though Licona's appeal to paranormal phenomena was meant to be direct evidence for the Resurrection. Does White fail to grasp the fact that Licona is mounting a two-stage argument? The purpose of his appeal to evidence for supernaturalism is not to directly prove the Resurrection, but to establish the possibility of the Resurrection, by ruling out naturalism. 

4. White objected to Licona's appeal to probabilities. White said that when the Apostles preach the Resurrection, they treat that event, not as merely probable, but absolutely established. But this, again, raises a number of distinct issues:

i) In general, there's often a difference between what can be known and what can be proved. There are many situations in which what we can demonstrate falls short of what we know to be the case. Put another way, there's an elementary distinction between being justified in what you believe and being able to justify what you believe. 

For instance, I have many memories of now-deceased relatives. I know I had those conversations. I know we did those things. But I have no corroborative evidence. Memories are all that's left. 

ii) In addition, this runs deeper than apologetic methodology. It concerns epistemology. There are competing theories about knowledge and justified belief. For instance, there's a Puritan paradigm, exemplified by John Owen and the Westminster Divines, according to which it's possible for Christians to attain "infallible" assurance regarding the veracity of the Christian faith. On the other hand, there's a moderate Anglican paradigm, exemplified by John Locke and Bishop Butler, which stresses probability rather than certainty. Having "reasonable" grounds for what we believe. You have Augustine's divine illumination model, Pascal's "the heart has reasons which reason knows nothing of," the Thomistic dichotomy between demonstrable truths and articles of faith, Newman's illative sense. And so on and so forth. There are many divergent models regarding the relationship between faith and reason. 

Licona himself is on record admitting that he periodically struggles with doubts about the truth of Christianity. So for him, it's not so much about apologetic method or philosophy, but his personal frame of reference. In his case, that's unfortunate. 

5. White noted that the way Dilluhunty frames the divine hiddenness argument seems to be influenced by Molinism, with its gallery of possible worlds. White countered that God is not a cosmic card dealer. 

I agree. I'd note, however, that modal metaphysics is hardly the exclusive provenance of Molinism. Calvinists can and should believe in possible worlds. But we ground these differently than Molinists. 

6. White took issue with Licona's statement that we need to let the data challenge our presuppositions, challenge our current worldview. Now, it's unclear how far Licona would take that. 

i) It isn't possible to suspend all your presuppositions. As an intellectual exercise, you can bracket or scrutinize some of your presuppositions. But you can't simultaneously bracket or scrutinize all your presuppositions, since you must use some beliefs as a standard of comparison to assess other beliefs. By the same token, you can't assess evidence apart from presuppositions, since evaluation requires norms. You must have rules of evidence. You must have an idea of what constitutes evidence. 

ii) That said, I think the intended context of Licona's remarks concerns Dillahunty's methodological atheism. He resorts to methodological atheism as a filter to screen out any and all lines of evidence that disconfirm atheism. As a result, Dillahunty is a secular fideist. 

iii) That brings us to the point that while presuppositions are unavoidable, not all presuppositions are justified. Some presuppositions are ad hoc or intellectually evasive. 

7. White accused Licona of adopting a "naturalistic, materialistic" historiography by appealing to the paranormal. But that's a complete misrepresentation of Licona's argument. Licona's appeal is the polar opposite: he is citing that kind of evidence to debunk naturalism and physicalism. 

Likewise, White completely missed the point of Licona's example about bridge hands. This goes to the question of prior probabilities. What are the odds that you will be dealt a winning bridge hand like that? Licona's point is that even though there's the outside chance, an abstract mathematically possibility, that something that astronomically unlikely will happen at random, that's not the first explanation we reach for. Rather, we suspect cheating. The deck was stacked. And Licona is using that as an analogy for the Resurrection. 

8. White condemned Licona for saying his argument wasn't predicated on God's existence. But that objection is confused. 

i) To begin with, there's a logical difference between a premise and a presupposition. A presupposition is not a premise of an argument. 

ii) In addition, many things may be necessary for anything particular thing to be the case, but they needn't all figure in your argument. For instance, how would you prove that Lincoln was assassinated? Consider how many other facts must be true for that particular fact to be true. It happened at Ford's Theatre. Does that mean you must prove the existence of Ford's Theatre? Ford's Theater is located in Washington, DC. Does that mean you must prove the existence of Washington, DC (in the mid 19C)? Booth was the assassin. Does that mean you must prove the identity of the assassin? It happened on April 14, 1865. Does that mean you must prove the reality of time? To be shot to dead, Lincoln had to be a physical organism. Must we prove that first? 

At what point do we break into the argument? We necessarily come to the claim, or come into the argument, with many presuppositions that we take for granted. But as a rule, all you need to prove Lincoln's assassination is period documentation. Testimonial evidence. 

The Licona/Dillahunty debate

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IW9w6c2RWmA

I recently watched the Licona/Dillahunty debate (although I skipped the minimal facts section). Before that, I watched James White trashing Licona's approach in that debate. (Didn't listen to White's entire DL screed.)

I've been severely critical of some of Licona's positions. But I think he did a generally fine job in this debate, and I appreciate Licona's strategy. He's using independent evidence (e.g. veridical NDEs/OBEs, veridical apparitions, "extreme" answered prayer) to debunk naturalism/physicalism. See 7:00-18.00. Licona gives another example between 1:00-1:02. At 1:42-43, Licona makes a telling observation about the dearth of well-documented group hallucinations. 

Many unbelievers say they find the Bible incredible because we don't live in that kind of world. We don't experience events like that. Everything we experience is naturalistically explicable. 

Licona is challenging and removing that intellectual obstacle in preparation to make a case for the Resurrection. That can be a necessary preliminary step. 

Perhaps White doesn't approve of paranormal evidence. But if there are well-documented phenomena that run counter to naturalism, why not adduce that evidence? 

From what I heard, before tuning out, White also took issue with Licona's suggestion that Paul may well have seen Jesus prior to the Resurrection. That, however, is not a new idea. For instance, Paul Barnett says "It is likely that Paul was in Jerusalem at the same time as Jesus, and that he [Paul] heard him [Jesus] speak." The Truth about Jesus: The Challenge of Evidence (Aquila Press, 2004), 40.

More recently, Stanley Porter has made a book-length case for that proposition: 

https://williamaross.com/2016/09/02/review-stanley-e-porters-when-paul-met-jesus/

Keep in mind that Licona is simply responding to the oft-repeated claim that Paul never saw Jesus before the Resurrection. That's a claim with its own burden of proof. 

Some of Licona's statements smack of historical positivism. That's philosophically naive. Licona made some cringe-worthy statements in the course of the debate. He has his limitations. But it was a strong performance overall.

In some basic respects, the debate suffered from lack of clarity.  Licona could be clearer on the relevance of his examples from the paranormal and answered prayer. 

i) Atheists overwhelmingly champion physicalism. If physicalism is true, then all mental activity takes place inside our heads. We can only interact with the world through physical media. And we can only know about the world through the senses, although we might have some instinctive know-how.

That rules out the possibility of ESP, psychokinesis, ghosts, &c. Conversely, if there is credible evidence of ESP, psychokinesis, ghosts, &c., then that rules out physicalism–which leaves most atheists up a paddle without a creek. 

In theory, atheism can allow for the possibility of ESP, psychokinesis, &c., but that overlaps with the supernatural dimension of Christian theism, making it exceptionally difficult for atheists to rule out God, angels, demons, miracles, and the afterlife.

In general, the sticking point was establishing the supernatural. Dillahunty is a dogmatic methodological atheist. Indeed, he's a promissory methodological atheist. 

He dismisses the supernatural as a vacuous placeholder. But that's a confused objection:

ii) To begin with, it's self-defeating for Dillahunty to act as though the supernatural is indefinable. After all, atheism depends on the ability to distinguish between what's natural and what's not. Atheists deny miracles because they think miracles are contrary to nature, and they think nature is conterminous with reality. How can Dillahunty be an atheist, how can he champion metaphysical naturalism and methodological naturalism, if he's unable to define supernaturalism and thereby demarcate supernaturalism from naturalism, or vice versa? For an atheist, these are correlative, mutually definable categories. Naturalism stands in contrast to supernaturalism. So unless an atheist has a clear idea of what naturalism is not, of what stands in contrast to naturalism, of what's incompatible with naturalism, it is self-refuting for him to say that supernaturalism has no meaning or content. 

iii) Here's a stab at a philosophical definition:

Many ontological naturalists thus adopt a physicalist attitude to mental, biological and other such “special” subject matters. They hold that there is nothing more to the mental, biological and social realms than arrangements of physical entities. 

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/naturalism/#MakCauDif 

In the final twentieth-century phase, the acceptance of the casual closure of the physical led to full-fledged physicalism. The causal closure thesis implied that, if mental and other special causes are to produce physical effects, they must themselves be physically constituted. It thus gave rise to the strong physicalist doctrine that anything that has physical effects must itself be physical. 

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/naturalism/#RisPhy

On that definition, a miracle or supernatural cause is not reducible to physical properties and their interactions. Evidence for events that don't fit the definition of naturalism automatically defaults to supernaturalism as the logical alternative. 

iv) In addition, Christians can and do define properties of supernatural agents. We specify the divine attributes. We state that angels, demons, and ghosts are discarnate minds. Those are claims with positive content. 

v) Another comparison would be telepathy or psychokinesis. Even if we can't explain "how" that's possible, there'd still be evidence for the phenomena. Indeed, the question of "how" begs the question, as if every effect must be facilitated by an intervening medium. But what if some events are directly caused, with no intervening medium? 

vi) Dillahunty appears to have no clear definition of a miracle. One way to define a miracle is to say a miracle is an event contrary to what happens when we let nature take its course. That's the way secular philosopher J. L. Mackie defines a miracle. On this view, nature is how the world works when operating as a closed system. A miracle is what happens when an external agent intervenes.

vii) That, however, depends on how "nature" is defined. In debates over miracles, "nature" is usually shorthand for the physical universe. Matter and energy. Inanimate physical processes. Physical cause and effect. 

They operate like automated machines that do whatever they were programmed to do, no more and no less. Although natural physical processes may be the product of intelligence, then are not intelligent in their own right. 

In the same context, "nature" includes animate agents, including humans. Humans have reason. But humans have limited power and intelligence. 

A miracle reflects rational discretion as well as superhuman ability. A miracle is more discriminating than natural processes. And it requires greater knowledge and/or power than human agents. 

I think that's a ballpark definition of a miracle. Events which fit that basic description justify the inference of a miracle. Dillahunty denied that anything could ever count as evidence for a miracle, or the supernatural, but that's because he has no clear definition of what a miracle is. 

viii) Dillahunty acts as though classifying an event as a miracle is always an argument from ignorance. For all we know, there might be some future scientific theory, some physical law yet to be discovered, that furnishes a naturalistic explanation for the event. 

But to repeat a comparison I recently used, a detective may have to determine whether a death was accidental, suicidal, or homicidal. A clever killer will stage a murder to make it appear to be accidental, suicidal, or death by natural causes. Yet there may be subtle indications that it was murder. Imagine an atheist objecting on the grounds that we should always be patient and assume death was accidental or due to natural causes. Even if we can't explain it that way, we should wait until we develop a theory to do so. To invoke a personal agent (murderer) is homicide of the gaps. 

ix) If, moreover, naturalism is so flexible as to be consistent with anything and everything, then it has no content. To stand for something, it must be opposed to something. If no evidence can ever count against naturalism, even in principle, then naturalism isn't based on evidence. 

x) Dillahunty labored to discredit Licona's paranormal evidence by appealing to magician's tricks. But Licona's examples don't involve professional magicians, so there was no sleight-of-hand. The attempted analogy is fallacious. 

xi) Dillahunty committed the schoolboy blunder of contending that you must prove God's existence before you can prove a miracle. But that's illogical. While God's existence is ontologically necessary for a miracle to be possible, it doesn't follow that belief in God must be prior to belief in miracles. 

xii) After objecting that the supernatural is indefinable, Dillahunty raises the additional objection that if God exists, he can provide convincing evidence to everyone. But these are contradictory objections. If, according to Dillahunty, we can't define the supernatural, then how could anything constitute evidence for the supernatural? He needs to pick one objection and stick with it. Better yet, ditch both objections! 

Jihadist attacks in the UK

The rate of offending in the last five years has increased from for the previous 13 years: IROs have almost doubled, increasing by 92% from 12 to 23 per year, while distinct terrorism cases have almost tripled, increasing by 180% from an average of five per year last decade to 14 per year between 2011 and 2015.

http://henryjacksonsociety.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/Islamist-Terrorism-preview-1.pdf

Update On The 1982 Carbon Dating Of The Shroud Of Turin

I recently found out that Gerald Wasserburg died last year. In a post I wrote in 2014, I argued that Wasserburg probably was involved in carbon dating a thread from the Shroud of Turin in 1982, several years before the more famous dating in 1988. I'm the only person I know of other than the scientists who arranged the 1982 test who discussed that test with Wasserburg. A lot of material has been added to my 2014 post since I first published it, and I just made a major update to it. The update includes a further discussion of my 2014 email exchange with Wasserburg, as well as material taken from some of the obituaries about him. I've also added further reasons to believe that the 1982 test did occur, and I've rewritten the section on scientific issues. Since so much material has been added to the article over the years, even those who read it previously may want to read the whole thing. Or if you just want to read the updates since the original post, you can find them in the comments section of the thread.

Rob Bowman on The Shack

http://www.watchman.org/profiles/pdf/shackprofile.pdf

Should sodomites be executed?

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, 2 “Say to the people of Israel…13 If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them (Lev 20:1-2,13).

i) The death penalty for sodomy is controversial. Unbelievers often use this as a wedge tactic. But just because a Bible verse is "offensive" doesn't mean we should discount it. 

ii) Notice, though, how the section is introduced. On the one hand, the fact that Lev 20 is specifically addressed to the "people of Israel" doesn't ipso facto rule out a wider application. Ancient Israel had a penal code because it was a nation state. Every nation state requires a penal code. And that will include laws covering sex crime, violent crime, and property crime. There's a "general equity" principle in the Mosaic law. 

iii) On the other hand, the fact that Lev 20 is specifically directed at Israelites removes any presumption that these laws apply to gentiles or Christians. It's unwarranted to automatically extrapolate these laws to a completely different socioreligious context.

iv) There's also a distinction between sins and crimes. Not every sin is a crime. There are many sins the Mosaic code doesn't criminalize. Conversely, the purity codes aren't about intrinsically right or wrong conduct, but symbolic holiness.

v) Apropos (iv), it may well be that some death penalties are due to the need to keep Eretz Israel sacrosanct. In the Mosaic code, you have a category for defiling the land. There were sacred places. And there were concentric degrees of cultic holiness. The tabernacle was holier than Eretz Israel, while the inner sanctum was holier than the sanctuary.

However, even in the OT context, it wouldn't be possible to profane the land outside Eretz Israel, because the land outside of Eretz Israel was already profane. Even though sodomy was and remains a grave sin, it cannot desecrate the land, and hence, it isn't necessary to execute offenders to reconsecrate the land (e.g. pagan Egypt, Assyria, Babylon). Moreover, the purity codes and the notion of holy places doesn't carry over into the new covenant. 

vi) That doesn't rule out the death penalty in some cases (e.g. murder). That antedates the Mosaic covenant, and its grounded in the imago Dei. 

Nabeel's recent dream

I'm going to comment on this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHEDzitxJB0

When I provide evidence for Christian supernaturalism, I typically select the strongest examples. However, it's useful to examine more ambiguous cases. That's because Christians may experience ambiguous cases, so I think it's useful to consider how we should approach those cases. So I'm going to discuss how I personally assess an example like this. In principle, Nabeel's example raises three issues: (i) Did he really have that dream? (ii) Assuming so, did Jesus really appear to him in a dream? (iii) Assuming so, what does it mean? Let's run through these:

1. One question, and this is an issue concerning testimonial evidence generally, is whether a witness is prima facie credible. Obviously, there are lots of charlatans who profess to have supernatural encounters. And some of them make a lucrative living that way. 

So one question we might ask is whether Nabeel as a pecuniary motive. There's a market for Christian bestsellers that makes sensational claims about supernatural encounters. However, in Nabeel's case, I doubt he's a conman–although we must always always allow for that possibility. (I don't mean Nabeel specifically.)

i) For one thing, I don't find him patently phony like so many charlatans in the charismatic movement. That doesn't mean he couldn't be a charlatan. Some charlatans are better actors than others. My point, though, is that when someone strikes me as oozing with flimflammery, I discount them in the first elimination round. The subset who survive the first elimination round might be discounted on other grounds. But it narrows the contenders. 

ii) Someone might object that in making snap judgments about people, I might unfairly prejudge and misjudge a candidate. That's possible, but so what? I don't owe any of these people my credence. Life is short. We have to make preliminary and provisional judgments about many things. That's necessary to prioritized our time and attention.

iii) Over and above (i), Nabeel comes across as sincere in this vlog series because he's desperate, and desperation puts you in touch with the real person. In the course of his 20 vlogs and counting, he's spooked by the cancer. He's grasping at straws. He wears his game face, both to encourage others and encourage himself, but the anxiety comes through. That's not playacting.

iv) If he's a conman, he doesn't believe in miracles. He knows that a miraculous healing was never in the cards. But in that event he won't live long enough to profit from his illness. So I don't think he has an obvious motive to lie about his dream. It's a kind of paradox: a charlatan has a motive to lie, but only if it's beneficial. Yet if there's nothing to gain, then there's no incentive to lie–in which case there's no reason to suspect that he's a charlatan. 

v) If he was concocting a story about Jesus appearing to him in a dream, I'd expect the symbolism to be less obscure. Likewise, someone concocting such a story wouldn't promptly forget most of what Jesus supposedly told him in the dream.

I'm not saying that's a knockdown argument. But it's reasonable.

2. Assuming the dream is real, which I grant (see above), did Jesus really appear to him in a dream? Of course, I'm in no position to have a definitive opinion on that one way or the other. 

i) Certainly Nebeel could use the encouragement. He's at the end of his tether. So it seems like the sort of thing Jesus might do.

ii) There's the question of autosuggestion. Can we dream about something because we wish to dream about something? I'm not a dream psychologist, so I have no expertise on that question. At least in my own experience, I have no ability that I'm aware of to program my dreams. There are things I'd like to dream about more often, but don't. I lack control over what I dream about from one night to the next. 

iii) I don't think the realistic appearance of Jesus in his dream is probative. Thoughtful Christians have a general idea of what a 1C Palestinian Jew would look like. So our imagination might be informed by what we know in that regard. 

Also, if Jesus does appear to people in church history–in dreams and visions–I'd expect him to adapt his appearance to the time and place. 

So, if we consider the dream in isolation, I have no particular opinion about whether Jesus really appeared to him. I allow for that possibility.  

iv) However, in combination with his daughter's reaction, I think it more likely that this was a revelatory dream: a sign or omen. 

3. That, in turn, goes to the question of what it means. 

i) Nabeel offered his own interpretation. It might seem reasonable to suppose that a revelatory dream means whatever it means to the dreamer. After all, if it's for his own benefit, then it would seem to be tailor-made to what's significant to the dreamer. What the symbolism connotes for him.

Perhaps, though, that's too facile. After all, we have some revelatory dreams in Scripture (to Pharaoh and Nebuchadnezzar) that were opaque to the dreamer. They required a second party to interpret their dream.

Of course, that might be exceptional because God was making the heathen dreamer depend on the services of a Jewish oneiromantis, in order to give Jews favor with their pagan overlords. So it's hard to say.

ii) As is his wont, Nabeel offered a more edifying, optimistic interpretation. But that could be because he wants it to have a more edifying and optimistic significance. There's been a strain of wishful thinking throughout his vlog series. I don't say that as a personal criticism. By his own admission, he's terrified by the cancer. But desperately hoping for the best can skew the interpretation. 

iii) A more pessimistic interpretation is that this is an omen or premonition of impending death. A harbinger that his daughter will lose her father. If so, that could be merciful in the sense that it prepares his family for the inevitable. If worst comes to worst, they will still know that God didn't abandon them in their extremity. However mysterious his providence, God was present and active in this situation. Only time will tell which interpretation is correct. 

Modern Evidence For Jesus' Deity

Steve Hays recently wrote a post about the deity of Christ and the significance of Christianity's prevalence in the world. I want to supplement his comments by noting that modern prophecy fulfillment is a form of evidence for Jesus' divinity. And since it's modern evidence, it's not susceptible to some of the criticisms often brought against appeals to the gospels and other ancient sources. Jesus' fulfillment of the opening verses of Isaiah's Suffering Servant prophecy is an ongoing phenomenon. Even some of the initial stages of it, in the earliest centuries of Christianity (in which we have evidence for the simultaneous rejection of Jesus by most Jews and his widespread and rapidly growing influence on the Gentile world, including Gentile rulers), involves post-Biblical evidence that's significantly less susceptible to some of the objections critics cite against the Biblical documents. Some of the Old Testament passages Jesus has fulfilled, like Isaiah 9:1-7 and the Suffering Servant prophecy, are most reasonably taken as referring to a figure who's God. Jesus' fulfillment of such prophecies, part of which has occurred in the post-Biblical era, is evidence for his deity. We can make a strong case for the deity of Christ from Old Testament prophecy, without relying on Jesus' statements recorded in the gospels, Paul's teachings about Jesus' divinity, etc.

For more about the kinds of prophecies I have in mind and references to the deity of the person who fulfills the prophecies in some cases, see here, here, here, and here. Notice how these prophecies largely involve the figure's prevalence in the world and in history, which dovetails with what Steve wrote about in his post linked above.

Picking and choosing our piety

I'm going to comment on two critics of the church calendar, beginning with Carl Truman:

http://www.reformation21.org/articles/ash-wednesday.php

What perplexes me is the need for people from these other groups to observe Ash Wednesday and Lent. My commitment to Christian liberty means that I certainly would not regard it as sinful in itself for them to do so; but that same commitment also means that I object most strongly to anybody trying to argue that it should be a normative practice for Christians, to impose it on their congregations, or to claim that it confers benefits unavailable elsewhere. 

I agree with him that there's nothing normative about the church calendar. 

I also fear that it speaks of a certain carnality: The desire to do something which simply looks cool and which has a certain ostentatious spirituality about it. As an act of piety, it costs nothing yet implies a deep seriousness. In fact, far from revealing deep seriousness, in an evangelical context it simply exposes the superficiality, eclectic consumerism and underlying identity confusion of the movement.

In many cases, I'm sure that's true. 

The imposition of ashes is intended as a means of reminding us that we are dust and forms part of a liturgical moment when sins are 'shriven' or forgiven. In fact, a well-constructed worship service should do that anyway. Precisely the same thing can be conveyed by the reading of God's Word.

That's reductionistic. For instance, many miracles of Christ are enacted parables. In John's Gospel, for instance, miracles function as concrete illustrations of something Jesus said. A way to convey the same message twice in two different media: both by saying and by showing. 

Or take a cinematic adaptation of a novel. Trueman's objection is like saying the movie is superfluous: just read the novel. But because novels and movies are different media, even if both have the same plot, dialogue, characters, and setting, each has a distinctive benefit, if done executed

There's more to communication than propositions. There's nonverbal communication. The Mosaic cultus was a tableau of object lessons. 

An appropriately rich Reformed sacramentalism also renders Ash Wednesday irrelevant. Infant baptism emphasizes better than anything else outside of the preached Word the priority of God's grace and the helplessness of sinful humanity in the face of God.   

Which overlooks the fact that infants are oblivious to the theological significance of their baptism.  

It's that time of year again: the ancient tradition of Lent, kick-started by Ash Wednesday. It is also the time of year when us confessional types brace ourselves for the annual onslaught of a more recent tradition: that of evangelical pundits, with no affiliation to such branches of the church, writing articles extolling Lent's virtues to their own eclectic constituency. 

When Presbyterians and Baptists and free church evangelicals start attending Ash Wednesday services and observing Lent, one can only conclude that they have either been poorly instructed in the theology or the history of their own traditions, or that they have no theology and history. Or maybe they are simply exhibiting the attitude of the world around: They consume the bits and pieces which catch their attention in any tradition they find appealing, while eschewing the broader structure, demands and discipline which belonging to an historically rooted confessional community requires. 

American evangelicals are past masters at appropriating anything that catches their fancy in church history and claiming it as their own, from the ancient Fathers as the first emergents to the Old School men of Old Princeton as the precursors of the Young, Restless, and Reformed to Dietrich Bonhoeffer as modern American Evangelical. Yet if your own tradition lacks the historical, liturgical and theological depth for which you are looking, it may be time to join a church which can provide the same. 

Of course, that's part and parcel of Trueman's "Confessional Calvinist" schtick. What he fails to appreciate is that tradition is, itself, eclectic. Traditional theological packages are in some measure historical accidents. Take a Presbyterian package that includes Calvinism, covenant theology, infant baptism, amil/postmil eschatology, and presbyterian polity. Compare that to a Baptist package that includes Arminianism (plus eternal security), dispensationalism, credo baptism, premil eschatology, and congregational polity. But these are packages containing disparate elements. The elements comprising each package are logically independent of each other. You could disassemble each package, and recombine some elements from each into a third package. And the third package would be no more or less eclectic than the "traditional" packages. 

It isn't a choice between "picking and choosing" your piety or not picking and choosing your piety, but who does the picking and choosing. Trueman simply delegates the picking and choosing to his adopted theological ancestors. 

Now let's turn to Nick Batzig:

http://www.reformation21.org/blog/2017/02/redemptive-history-union-with.php

As Roland Barnes notes: 

"The Liturgical Calendar can be spiritually stunting insofar as it asks believers to suspend their living in the light of the finished work of Christ as they march along from incarnation to resurrection and ascension throughout the calendar. The Reformed observance of the weekly sabbath and the regular practice of expository, Christocentric preaching emphasizes that we are now living in the full realization of the finished work of Christ. Each Lord's Day we celebrate the fact that 'He is Risen!' We live each Lord's Day in the light of the triumph of the resurrection and ascension of Jesus."2

To prove this point, I'll share a story. A number of years ago, I was rebuked by a strict proponent of the Liturgical Calendar for preaching a passage of Scripture on the birth narrative on the first Sunday of Advent. His response to hearing that I had done so was, "Not yet!"

That's a good example in which tradition becomes a straightjacket. 

Alongside this phenomenon lies the ever present willingness of many professedly Protestant churches to embrace, either in part or whole, the liturgical calendar for the structuring of their worship services. One can see the apparent appeal. After all, many have suggested that the Liturgical Calendar offers a recognition of the organic unity of Scripture centered on the redemptive-historical nature of Christ's saving work and participated in through the corporate worship of God's people. But is this actually the case? Does the Liturgical Calendar enhance or undermine the redemptive historical nature of Christ's saving work? 

Not surprisingly, many Anglicans--at one and the same time–acknowledge the lack of biblical support for a liturgical calendar while insisting upon a pragmatic adaptation of it. For instance, N.T. Wright suggests:

"There is nothing ultimately obligatory for a Christian about the keeping of holy days or seasons. Paul warns the Galatians against adopting the Jewish liturgical calendar (Gal. 4:10)...However, many churches have found that by following the liturgical year in the traditional way they have a solid framework within which to live the Gospels, the Scripture and the Christian life. The Bible offers itself to us as a great story, a sprawling and complex narrative, inviting us to come in and make it our own. The Gospels, the very heart of Scripture, likewise tell a story not merely to give us information about Jesus but in order to provide a narrative that we can inhabit, a story we must make our own. This is one way we can become the people God calls us to be."1

While adherents of the liturgical calendar frequently insist that it aids our experience of the redemptive historical nature of Christ's work, the opposite actually proves to be the case. When we subject ourselves to a temporal recapitulation of Jesus' life and labors--from incarnation to baptism to wilderness testing to death to resurrection to ascension and to Pentecost--we end up undermining the full, rich implications of the once-for-all nature of that saving work. We run the risk of bifurcating the work of Christ. 

Sorry, but I think that's silly. It's like saying you only need to read the Gospels once. After all, the earthly life of Christ is a thing of the past. That's over and done with. Never look back! Even more retrograde is reading the OT! 

If anything, I think it would be a good idea to expand the church calendar. Suppose we had a rotating, three-year church calendar based on the plots of Matthew, Luke, and John. Each week would track and highlight a significant incident in the life of Christ, in roughly chronological order. It's good for Christians to make the plot of each Gospel a part of their mental furniture. To have a mental outline of what Jesus said and did in each Gospel. By the same token, it might be good to include some highpoints of OT history. 

In doing so, we can also illegitimately make the Gospel something that we do rather than something done by Christ for us and received by faith alone. 

Maybe some high-church Christians are guilty of that, but I don't see that observing a church calendar in itself fosters that mentality. Rather, it's basically a pedagogical device to internalize the story of the Gospels. 

“Pope Francis” faces credibility issues on clergy sex abuse

Yes, these are the liberals who love “Pope Francis”. There’s trouble in paradise on the left, too:

https://www.ncronline.org/news/accountability/editorial-clergy-culture-sustains-sex-abuse-scandal:

The resignation of Marie Collins from the Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors is a turning point in Pope Francis’ pontificate. It cannot be seen any other way. For all the hope and promise that we find in Francis and his vision for the church, we believe his pontificate teeters on the brink of failure on the issue of sexual abuse by the clergy.

For three and a half years, Francis has promised to take real action to bring accountability to the highest structures of the church and to help heal survivors. Now the commission he created to do that must confront serious questions about its credibility.

Did Jesus claim to be God?

A perennial question that some people raise is whether Jesus claimed to be God. The skepticism underlying the question is that while NT writers claim divinity for Jesus, that's not a claim he made for himself. In other words, he was just human, and a divine Jesus reflects legendary embellishment on the part of NT writers. 

Now, in one respect, I think the question is unimportant. I mean, if Jesus is God Incarnate, then we'd expect him to indicate that fact, but what I mean is that Jesus didn't write anything, so if someone is skeptical about the historicity of the Gospels or the NT generally, they will be just as dismissive of accounts in which Jesus claims to be God. They will say the Gospel writers put those words on Jesus' lips. So when the question has that frame of reference, it's futile to distinguish what Jesus said about himself from what NT writers said about Jesus. Since we don't have an autobiography of Jesus, there's no point attempting to prove to a "skeptic" that Jesus claimed to be God. If they distrust the historicity of the Gospels, they'd say statements attributed to Jesus are reducible to what the Gospels authors said about him rather than what he said about himself. To that extent, I think a "quest for the historical Jesus" that labors to isolate his statements from the narrator's statements is pointless. 

There is, though, a more interesting question. How would Jesus prove that he's divine? It's not enough to claim divinity. After all, some people claim to be God, but we typically dismiss them as crackpots. 

So it's less about Jesus saying he was God than Jesus showing he was God. Mind you, saying that he was God would help to prep the observer, but that needs to be reinforced by corresponding actions. Doing things that are associated with divine action.

However, that, of itself, is not without ambiguities. For instance, God is not the only agent who can perform miracles. 

Now normally, when a crackpot claims to be God, that doesn't pose a threat to the true religion since most folks don't take him seriously. Indeed, the claim itself is sufficient reason for them to discount him as either delusional or a charlatan.

If, however, a person made a credible claim to be God; if he garnered an enormous following; if, indeed, that became the dominant religion, then it would pose a threat to the true religion unless either the claimant is, indeed, what he claims to be, or else God intervenes to discredit him. 

Take the cliche of the blasphemer who dares God to strike him dead. Normally, there's no lightning bolt that calls his bluff. But that's because the garden-variety blasphemer is not that important. God won't give him the satisfaction. God can't be compelled. 

If, though, a religious impostor was so successful that he'd lead the faithful astray, then it's up to God to safeguard his name and to protect the faithful from mass deception and apostasy. The OT talks about how God is "jealous" about his name, which some readers might find a bit theatrical or egotistical, but it's in the context of heathen idolatry, where you had pagan religions holding humanity in their thrall. 

Debating transgenderism

There are two ways to argue against transgender accommodation policies: on the merits or procedural grounds. From what I've seen, conservatives routinely neglect the second approach and focus on the first. 

I think that's because transgender apologists typically frame the issue in moral terms (as they see it), and conservative critics typically respond to them on their own terms. Up to a point, there's nothing wrong with that, but there's the danger of failing to challenge a false premise. 

Secular progressives typically believe that if some group ought to be a protected class, if people ought to have a civil right, then the judiciary ought to discover that right in the Constitution, or the Executive branch ought to "interpret" preexisting law to extend legal protections to that new group. Secular progressives just assume that if something is a good idea (as they see it), then it's the duty of the courts or the Executive to make that a matter of public policy.

Problem is, that's diametrically opposed to our system of government. And it's not just a technicality. Empowering unelected bureaucrats with irrevocable job security to make social policy for the nation subverts popular sovereignty. That subverts the democratic process, according to which voters elect lawmakers to express the will of the electorate. And lawmakers are answerable to voters. Consent of the governed is predicated on rule by elected representatives who are ultimately accountable to the people who elected them.

Under our system of gov't, voters cede some power to the state, but it's a conditional grant of power. Voters can rescind it. Under our system of gov't, the Executive is not in the driver's seat, or the judiciary, or even the legislative branch, but the electorate.    

The alternative is a dictatorship in which unelected judges with lifetime tenure and unelected bureaucrats with lifetime tenure impose their social vision on the masses. 

Now, we should also challenge transgenderism on the merits, but my point is that, to some degree, that's a red herring. In principle, you could agree with the transgender claim on the merits, but still oppose bureaucrats in the Executive branch unilaterally rewriting statuary law through creative reinterpretations. If you think we need to create a new protected class, the proper procedure is to pass a new law. 

It's important for conservatives to challenge the conditioned mindset that if something is (supposedly) a good idea, then it's a good idea to circumvent the legislative branch and impose that on the nation by judicial or Executive fiat.