Walking in twilight

Waiting is an essential feature of Christian faith. But there are different kinds of waiting. There's waiting in despair. That's epitomized by Ps 88. Despite the sense of utter abandonment, he reaches out to God, not because he has any expectation that God will respond, but because God is the only one who can change the situation. A prayer of bottomless desperation. 

Until the moment of death, waiting is unavoidable because something is always bound to happen next, for better or worse. Time can feel like a trap. There's always another day to get through. You have no choice but to wait it out.  

The psalmist is walking in twilight–but what kind? There's two kinds of twilight: dawn and dusk. One faces into the rising sun while the other faces into the night. Is it the twilight before sunup or the twilight before sundown? Is he walking into the night or walking into the light? Is the darkness lifting or descending? He can't tell. That's his dilemma. What awaits him? 

Sometimes Christians are walking in twilight. Is the worst behind them or ahead of them? Is it night until they die? Or is sunrise just over the hill?

There's another kind of waiting. Take a long journey home on foot. Home lies just beyond a mountain range. When he sets out, a pilgrim has no idea how many miles the journey will be. For weeks and months, as far as the eye can see, the end is out of sight.

But one day, at long last, the mountain range comes into view. Home lies on the other side, through a mountain pass. 

That transforms the pilgrim's beleaguered mood. Now the end is finally in sight. 

Yet mountains, because they're so huge, seem closer than they really are. Even though the weary pilgrim can see the goal, he still doesn't know how long it will take to arrive at his destination. Due to the optical illusion, the distance may be far greater than appears to be the case. You can walk and walk towards a mountain range yet not seem to be getting any nearer. 

Yet it's a different kind of waiting, once the end comes into view. Waiting in hope, with mounting anticipation. 

The Jewish question

28 For no one is a Jew who is merely one outwardly, nor is circumcision outward and physical. 29 But a Jew is one inwardly, and circumcision is a matter of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the letter. His praise is not from man but from God (Rom 2:28-29).

This is a prooftext for supersessionism. Here's one example:

My thesis is that the reference in Rom 11:26 to “all Israel” should be interpreted as a Pauline redefinition of the concept “Israel” in light of the great mystery that has been revealed in the person and work of the Lord Jesus Christ. 

Now part of Paul’s refutation of this sadly mistaken assurance involves a redefinition of the value of circumcision. He states, at the end of chapter two: “He is not a Jew who is one outwardly; neither is circumcision that which is outward in the flesh. But he is a Jew who is one inwardly; and circumcision is that which is of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the letter.” In fact, Paul waxes so bold as to ask a most radical question: “If therefore the uncircumcised man keeps the requirements of the Law, will not his uncircumcision be reckoned as circumcision?” (v. 26). 

Do you see what Paul is doing here? He is upsetting traditional Jewish theology by asserting that it is not circumcision or membership in the community of Israel that determines salvation but law-keeping. “Not the hearers of the Law are just before God, but the doers of the Law shall be justified” (v. 12). If so, then it is theoretically possible that many Jews will be condemned and many Gentiles saved. A new criterion is being introduced to define those who are the legitimate heirs of the Abrahamic promises. A new definition of Israel is emerging. 

http://www.upper-register.com/papers/Rom1126.pdf

I'll use that as a foil. There are some basic problems with saying Paul has redefined "Israel". 

i) One problem is the "Jewish question". Is God faithful to the promises he made to the patriarchs (e.g. Rom 3:4; 11:2)? If the recipient of a promise can be "redefined", after the fact, then in what respect has God made good on his promises? If God can swap out the original referent and swap in another referent, then the promise is equivocal and vacuous, since there's no continuity between promise and fulfillment. Transferring the promise from one party to another is a broken promise, is it not? I made you a promise, but I've kept my promise by doing that for someone else! Lee might say gentiles were always included in the promise to Abraham, but in that event, where's the "redefinition"? 

ii) There's nothing innovative about Paul's distinction. Distinguishing literal/physical from figurative/spiritual circumcision (or equivalent metaphors) goes straight back to the Law (Lev 26:41; Deut 10:16; 30:6) and the prophets (Jer 4:4; 9:24-25; 31:33; Ezk 36:26-27; 44:7). 

Perhaps, though, what Lee means by "traditional" is Second Temple theology rather than OT theology. 

iii) Scholars often use the term "ethnic Israel" and "ethnic Jew," but contextually, a more accurate term might be "genealogical Jew," in the sense of a lineal descendent of Abraham. 

iv) Is Paul bifurcating Jewishness into two separate kinds of Jews? Rather than a stark dichotomy, Paul's contrast may concern two overlapping categories, where "inward" Jews are a subset of "outward' Jews". That involves an asymmetrical relation: while all "inward" Jews are "outward" Jews, not all "outward" Jews are "inward" Jews. Both groups are genealogical Jews. Both groups are Jews on the outside. That's the general category. But within that larger class are Jews on the inside. If so, that preserves the continuity of the promise inasmuch as faith an OT criterion no less than a NT criterion. 

v) But it doesn't eliminate all possible ambiguity. What's the status of gentile converts to Judaism? Would Paul classify them as Jews? What about intermarriage? If marriage between a Jew and a gentile issues in offspring who subscribe to Judaism, would Paul classify that generation as Jewish?

vi) A related ambiguity is the fact that the 1C marks a transitional phase. Before the advent of Jesus, a messianic Jew wasn't a Christian in particular, since he didn't know that Jesus of Nazareth was the promised messiah. But after the advent of Christ, to be a messianic Jew, from a Pauline perspective (and NT writers generally) is to be a Jewish believer in Jesus. So what qualifies one to be an "inward" Jew in OT and Intertestamental times is insufficient vis-a-vis what qualifies one to be an "inward" Jew in Christian times. Paul was living and writing in that transitional phase. 

Apropos (v-vi), there remain some ambiguities regarding Jewish identity, as Paul defines it. Can we tie up the loose ends? Are there borderline cases?  

Ministering in Asian-American Cultures

https://voice.dts.edu/tablepodcast/2018-01-09/

The New Christian Zionism

https://voice.dts.edu/tablepodcast/2018-01-02/

How To Argue For Sola Scriptura

Something I recently wrote in response to a Facebook message:

In disputes over sola scriptura like the one you're referring to, it's helpful to start by considering the larger context. That way, we have a better idea of what's at stake, what our priorities should be, and so forth.

The two biggest critics of sola scriptura within professing Christianity are Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy. Given the lack of evidence for those groups and the evidence we have against their claims (http://triablogue.blogspot.com/2010/04/historical-roots-of-reformation-and.html), their authority structures aren't the most reasonable alternatives to sola scriptura. If we were to reject sola scriptura, it wouldn't make sense to become Catholic or Orthodox. Rather, the most reasonable alternative to sola scriptura would be to add material to scripture that's of a significantly different nature than what Catholicism and Orthodoxy add to scripture. If we were to conclude that some of the extrabiblical traditions of Papias and Irenaeus should be added to scripture, for example, that wouldn't be equivalent to Catholicism or Orthodoxy. If sola scriptura is false, the alternative would be far closer to Protestantism than to Catholicism or Orthodoxy. Debates over sola scriptura are often framed in terms of choosing between Protestantism, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, either Catholicism or Orthodoxy. But those aren't the only choices. And the most plausible alternatives to sola scriptura are much closer to Protestantism than they are to the two alternatives to Protestantism that are most often discussed. While there's a lot at stake in choosing between Protestantism and Catholicism, there wouldn't be so much at stake in choosing between Protestantism and a belief system in which all that's added to scripture is something like an extrabiblical tradition of Papias concerning premillennialism. We should keep in mind that accepting a Christian rule of faith that adds material to scripture isn't equivalent to accepting Catholicism or Orthodoxy.

Having said that, the primary question here isn't what our rule of faith should have been in early church history, if we had been alive then. Rather, the central question is what our rule of faith should be today. The passage you cited from Robert Sungenis refers to how the meaning of scripture doesn't change over time. But the application does change. The fact that the Corinthians possessed the letter Paul refers to in 1 Corinthians 5:9 doesn't prove that we possess it today. The fact that the Thessalonians heard Paul teach orally doesn't prove that we've heard Paul teach orally today.

People who were alive in Tertullian's day and shortly afterward would have had not only a canon of Tertullian's writings, but also would have heard Tertullian speak in some cases, would have had access to some reliable oral traditions about what Tertullian said, etc. But those of us who are alive today don't have access to all that people had access to in those earlier contexts. Few, if any, people today would go beyond the writings of Tertullian that are extant. The fact that people who lived around Tertullian's time had heard him speak and had reliable oral traditions about what he'd said doesn't prove that we today have those resources. We don't. What I'm saying about Tertullian is applicable to other historical figures as well. That includes Biblical figures, like Jesus and the apostles.

I don't think the Bible directly, explicitly teaches sola scriptura. Rather, I think sola scriptura is an implication of Biblical teaching. We limit ourselves to scripture for reasons similar to why we limit ourselves to the extant writings of Tertullian and other historical figures. I've discussed some of the evidence leading to the conclusion of sola scriptura at Triablogue. For example:

http://triablogue.blogspot.com/2010/02/new-testament-documents-were-more.html

I don't think 2 Timothy 3:15-17 is saying that Timothy or anybody else at that time should have abided by sola scriptura. Rather, when we combine 2 Timothy 3 with what other sources tell us about scripture and what we know about other factors involved (e.g., ecclesiology), we arrive at the conclusion of sola scriptura. The fact that oral apostolic teaching, reliable oral traditions of what Jesus taught, and such existed at the time of 2 Timothy 3 doesn't tell us whether we have access to that material today. Similarly, Adam and Eve didn't have scripture, Abraham didn't have the Catholic magisterium, we today don't possess the letter Paul refers to in 1 Corinthians 5:9, etc. There's no reason to think the rule of faith must be or has been the same throughout history or throughout church history in particular.

Since people often confuse categories when discussing these issues, keep in mind that sola scriptura is about how we should view scripture in a particular context. The sola applies in that context, not others. The fact that scripture should be alone in one context doesn't mean that it should be alone elsewhere. Sola scriptura is about the content of our rule of faith. It doesn't follow that if we use means outside of scripture to identify our rule of faith, interpret it, apply it, argue for it, etc., then we've violated sola scriptura. What the content of our rule of faith should be is a distinct issue from how we identify that rule, interpret it, and so on.

Puritan worship

This post will be an extensive analysis of the regulative principle of worship (RPW). I'm going to comment on two articles by William Young, as well as the Westminster Directory of Worship (i.e. The Directory for the Publick Worship of God). I've singled out Young because he's an exceptionally capable proponent of the position in question. When assessing a position, we should consider the best case for that position. 

I'm going to comment on the Westminster Directory of Worship (WDW) because it provides a classic, concrete illustration of the how the RPW was traditionally understood and implemented. The way this post is organized is that I will begin with some definitions, then compare them to the WDW, then go back to assess a more detailed exposition and defense of the RPW. Before doing that I'll make a few preliminary observations:

i) To my knowledge, the RPW was formulated in reaction to Anglican and Roman Catholic modes of worship. It was a root-and-branch solution. Because Catholic worship was so thoroughly corrupt, it was necessary to start from scratch. I don't object to that.

In the case of Anglicanism, I think that was more political than theological. The English crown attempted to subjugate the Scotland through religious uniformity. An expression of colonialism. The Scots rightly rebelled against that imperious imposition. 

ii) I've attended a wide variety of churches over the years. Since Anglicanism is one of Young's targets, I'll discuss that to illustrate. On occasions when I've attended Anglican services, I notice certain customs. Some parishioners, as well as clergy, make the sign of the cross. I don't think that's intrinsically wrong. But it can easily become mechanical or superstitious. 

After communion, some parishioners dip their fingers in the baptismal font ("holy water") and make the sign of the cross. That's rank superstition.

In addition, some parishioners, as well as clergy, genuflect before the altar. That's superstitious, but not rank superstition. Rather, that's based on belief in the real presence and reservation of the Host. I don't do any of these things. 

When I happened to be in town, I attended St. John's Shaughnessy, where J. I. Packer was a member. One time the communion hymn was Pange Lingua by Thomas Aquinas. A Corpus Christi hymn. Propaganda for Transubstantiation. Since I don't subscribe to that dogma, I didn't sing along. 

My point is that worship is that it's quite possible to be selective in one's participation. 

The end is at hand!

So also, when you see all these things, you know that he is near, at the very gates (Mt 24:33).  

The end of all things is at hand (1 Pet 4:7).

1. The Bible uses variations on this eschatological imagery. For modern readers, ir creates the impression that the Bible mispredicted the future. Let's consider that.

Both passages use metaphors. There are different kinds of metaphors. Let's consider three. 

i) Dead metaphors

That's a word or phrase which no longer evokes an image in the reader's mind. That can happen through popular repetition or because the origin of the metaphor has been forgotten. 

ii) Temporal metaphors

As a temporal metaphor, the nearness of the end denotes distance in time. It means time is running out (itself a metaphor!). The wait is almost over. 

In that sense, the end is inevitable. There's no stopping it. There's less and less time until there's no more time before the denouement. Like a countdown. 

iii) Spatial metaphors

A spatial metaphor can have temporal connotations. But let's consider a spatial metaphor in its own right. As a spatial metaphor, the nearness of the end denotes distance in space. For instance, a journey in which a traveler is approaching his destination. 

2. Sometimes these coincide. Suppose my destination is an hour's drive from the point of origin. Suppose my destination is 50 miles from the point of origin. Halfway through the journey, I now have half as much distance to cover, and half the time remaining. 

3. But sometimes these come apart. As a temporal metaphor, you keep on getting closer until you run out of time. But as a spatial metaphor, you may come near without closing the gap. As a spatial metaphor, moreover, nearness is repeatable. 

Take orbital motion, like periodic comets. Sometimes it's closer to earth, sometimes further away. It has a nearest point, and a farthest point (in relation to earth). Unlike linear motion, it doesn't get closer and closer until it reaches the end. Rather, it circles back around.

4. Mt 24:33 is an extended metaphor rather than a dead metaphor. The reader should try to visualize the implicit imagery. It suggests a traveler or conqueror approaching a fortified city. 

On the face of it, this is a spatial metaphor, although it might have temporal connotations. Unlike "end is near" temporal metaphors, where that's bound to happen, in exponentially decreasing increments, "end is near" spatial metaphors are not necessarily inevitable or unrepeatable. 

I already mentioned periodic comets, but let's take some other examples. I once rode a bus home across a bridge. However, after the driver got across the bridge, and let some passengers off that the bus stop, he made a wrong turn by taking the exit back onto the bridge. Instead of crossing the bridge once, we had to cross it three times! We were closer to home, then further away, then closer to home, as he circled back to rectify his mistake.

I once saw a special about the USS Enterprise. Not Star Trek but the aircraft carrier. In one episode, the admiral had his pilots practice landing in choppy seas. That makes for dangerous landing conditions because the deck is bobbing up and down. If you try to land when the stern is on the way down, you may crash into the deck, but if you try to land when the stern is on the way up, you may slam into the back of the carrier. Not surprisingly, none of the pilots tried to land the first time around. They'd come in close to gauge the conditions, then come back around until the angle of the deck was level enough with the jet to risk landing. Several times they were almost at the point of landing before they pulled away to try again. Timing is everything. There's no margin for error. 

Or take Westerns in which the good guy is pursuing the bad guy on horseback. The hero wants to get positioned to jump from his horse onto the villain's horse. But of course the villain doesn't want him on his back, so he tries to pull away. Sometimes the horses are closer together, sometimes further apart. The trick is when to make the jump. If you don't to it just right, you fall off your horse. Fall between the galloping horses. 

Or take a river you can cross during the dry season which is impassable during snowmelt. 

5. As a spatial metaphor, end-is-near imagery may suggest an opportunity. It might turn into a lost opportunity, but sometimes you get a second chance.

Take an army marching to a fortified city. How will the city respond? Will the army lay siege until the city surrenders? Will the city be able to repel the invader? Will the city pay tribute? 

6. A common theme in Scripture is threatened judgment. "Repent or else!" 

In some cases, judgment is not inevitable. Indeed, the purpose of the warning is to give sinners an opportunity to repent. 

Moreover, this is a cyclical process in Bible history and church history. Even if one nation or generation blows the opportunity, another nation or generation may take advantage of the opportunity. Even if that's a missed opportunity for one individual, the same opportunity may come back around for another individual. 

7. It's possible to overinterpret metaphors. Conversely, it's possible to pay insufficient attention to metaphors. My point is that I think we should make allowance for different connotations, depending on whether the metaphor is temporal or spatial (in the aforementioned examples). 

In all it affirms

Let's begin with some standard definitions of biblical inerrancy:

Nevertheless the historical faith of the Church has always been, that all the affirmations of Scripture of all kinds, whether of spiritual doctrine or duty, or of physical or historical fact, or of psychological or philosophical principle, are without any error, when the ipsissima verba of the original autographs are ascertained and interpreted in their natural and intended sense. There is a vast difference between exactness of statement, which includes an exhaustive rendering of details, an absolute literalness, which the Scriptures never profess, and accuracy, on the other hand, which secures a correct statement of facts or principles intended to be affirmed. It is this accuracy and this alone, as distinct from exactness, which the Church doctrine maintains of every affirmation in the original text of Scripture without exception. Every statement accurately corresponds to truth just as far forth as affirmed.

http://www.bible-researcher.com/warfield4.html

Inerrancy will then mean that at no point in what was originally given were the biblical writers allowed to make statements or endorse viewpoints which are not in conformity with objective truth. This applies at any level at which they make pronouncements (Roger Nicole). 

Inerrancy means that when all facts are known, the Scriptures in their original autographs and properly interpreted will be shown to be wholly true in everything that they affirm, whether that has to do with doctrine or morality or with the social, physical, or life sciences (Paul Feinberg).

Holy Scripture, being God's own Word, written by men prepared and superintended by His Spirit, is of infallible divine authority in all matters upon which it touches: it is to be believed, as God's instruction, in all that it affirms: obeyed, as God's command, in all that it requires; embraced, as God's pledge, in all that it promises (Chicago Statement on Inerrancy).

There are some problems with these definitions. Or perhaps I should say there are some limitations to these definitions:

i) Three of the four definitions include a key caveat: Scripture is true or inerrant in what it affirms. The reason for that qualification is indicated in the Hodge/Warfield article. Even when Scripture employs hyperbole or approximations, it is still true because the Bible writer didn't intend to be more precise. For instance, round numbers would be false if the author intended to be exact, but he didn't. It is true in regard to what he was aiming for. 

ii) In some respects that's a useful caveat, but not without problems or ambiguities. Does a Bible writer affirm (i.e. intend) all the logical implications of his statements? Bible writers can only intend what they consciously will, but Bible writers aren't aware of all the logical implications of their statements. In that sense, they do not and cannot affirm everything that their statements entail. 

But that qualification would have the ironic consequence that while whatever the Bible affirms is true, the logical implications of Biblical statements may be fallible and mistaken! Yet that's an unwittingly subversive definition of inerrancy. 

By the same token, Micah didn't affirm that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah. He didn't know who the Messiah would be. He knew some things about the Messiah, but he did not and could not intend for them to be about Jesus in particular, since he was ignorant of Jesus. 

It seems to follow from the caveat that Micah's messianic oracle might be fallible and erroneous in reference to Jesus. But once again, that definition sabotages the purpose of the definition! 

iii) This goes to another ambiguity in the definitions. What's the relationship between the Bible and Bible writers? Strictly speaking, a writing does not and cannot intend anything. Only a writer can intend something. Intent is a psychological state. 

On the other hand, a writing can imply something. So we might say Bible writers are inerrant in whatever they intend while the Bible is inerrant in whatever it implies. A distinction between what the prophet Micah intends and what the prophecy of Micah entails. And these are complementary.

BTW, when I say "intend", I don't mean that in terms of what a prophet was planning to say or planning to write, but what he meant to express by his actual words. 

Sometimes there's a gap between intent and performance, where an agent was planning to do something, but failed to realize his objective. But I'm not separating intent from performance.

iv) To say that a Bible writer didn't affirm all the logical implications of his statements, or that a Bible writer didn't affirm future referents of his oracles, doesn't mean he disaffirms their referents or entailments. His intentions are not at variance with the implications or outcomes. 

v) Another ambiguity concerns the truth-bearers of inerrancy, or the truth-bearers of what the Bible "affirms". The Bible contains different kinds of statements. Assertions, denials, questions, commands, prohibitions. Strictly speaking, truth or falsity is a property of propositions. 

But consider that restriction in regard to nonpropositional statements in Scripture. Take the binding of Isaac, which is a command. Or prescriptions and proscriptions in the Mosaic law. Or God interrogating Adam and Eve in the Garden. Technically, that falls outside the purview of the definition. 

Questions per se don't affirm or deny anything. Commands and prohibitions don't affirm or deny anything. Does this mean that since the genre of nonpropositional statements has no truth-value, an inerrantist needn't credit them? 

vi) A final omission is a failure to define "truth". Insofar as Scripture is propositional revelation, that might select for the coherence theory of truth:  

A coherence theory of truth states that the truth of any (true) proposition consists in its coherence with some specified set of propositions. The coherence theory differs from its principal competitor, the correspondence theory of truth, in two essential respects. The competing theories give conflicting accounts of the relation that propositions bear to their truth conditions. (In this article, ‘proposition’ is not used in any technical sense. It simply refers to the bearers of truth values, whatever they may be.) According to one, the relation is coherence, according to the other, it is correspondence. The two theories also give conflicting accounts of truth conditions. According to the coherence theory, the truth conditions of propositions consist in other propositions. The correspondence theory, in contrast, states that the truth conditions of propositions are not (in general) propositions, but rather objective features of the world. 

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/truth-coherence/

Yet the Bible constantly makes claims about the world. So that might select for a correspondence theory of truth. It may be best for a statement on inerrancy to define truth in reference to coherence and correspondence alike, where these are applicable. 

Mind you, that's deceptively simple. For instance, the correspondence theory involves vexed questions about the identity of the relevant truth-makers and truth-bearers.

vii) I don't think these deficiencies are a big problem, because definitions of inerrancy function to some degree as placeholders for creedal statements. In other words, abstract definitions, because they operate at such a high level of generality, are deficient at the level of particulars. But inerrantists have very specific things in mind when they formulate these definitions. The Bible is the concrete frame of reference. Inerrantists have specific kinds of things in mind which their definitions are designed to cover. In and of themselves, the definitions are not that discriminating. So they need to be supplemented by actual examples. The historicity of many Bible narratives. Predictive prophecy. And so on. 

Witherington on “Roman but Not Catholic”

Ben Witherington III has started a review series on the work “Roman but Not Catholic”, by Ken Collins and Jerry Walls. The various entries are pithily entitled Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4. I’m not sure how far it will go, but here’s what he’s got so far:

Part 1: Keep in mind, “a text, not read in light of its original context, just becomes a pretext for whatever one wants it mean today, and distortion inevitably follows”, and “nothing can be theologically true that is historically false”.

Part 2: This is just a throwaway, introducing the next two sections as contributions by the two authors.

Part 3: Ken Collins outlines his own chapters in the book, 2,3,6,7,9-12,15-19. Topics include Tradition, Scripture, “The Church”, Sacraments, Priesthood (very good!), the papacy, Mary, Justification, and Regeneration, Assurance, and Conversion.

Part 4: Jerry Walls chapters (1,4,5,8,13,14, and 20), “What We Have in Common”, logical challenges to Newman and his theory of Development, dealing specifically with “the Tu Quoque” objection, the claims of the papacy in the light of probabilities of history, popular Roman Catholic apologetics, and also “the World’s Largest Pluralist Denomination”.

This is a work for your pastor – for you if you are a pastor! – or for the book table at your church. You don’t need it until you need it, and then you really will wish you had digested the contents of it while you’re talking to someone who wants to go “home to Rome”. The subject matter is not simple. In some ways, it is all-encompassing of twenty centuries of church history (in this sense, the book itself is pithy), seasoned with Scripture and sound logical argument.

And if you have not yet been to the Amazon site for this book, go there, check out the reviews, comment on them, write one for yourself, and encourage every Protestant to read it.

Performance variants

Bart Erhman pretentiously instructs people to read the Gospels horizontally as well as vertically. Don't just read through one Gospel at a time, but compare them side-by-side.

Of course, that's hardly a novel approach. There are published Gospel harmonies that do just that. 

For Erhman, this exposes discrepancies between the Gospels. Some scholars explain these "discrepancies" by appeal to redaction criticism. 

In this interview, Andy Bannister discusses the oral nature of the Koran. Around the 30-36 min. mark he describes the nature of "performance variants," and then applies that to the Gospels. These are not redactional variants, but reflect the living voice of Christ:  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HmRGhxnbDu0&feature=share

Piggybacking on his argument, I'd like to make an additional point. It's common for scholars to remark that since Jesus was an itinerate preacher, we'd expect him to repeat himself at different times and places. And by the same token, we'd expect performance variants. There'd be minor verbal changes as he adapted his message to a particular audience at a particular time and place. Different synonyms. Adding a word here, subtracting a word there. Even when talking about the same thing or retelling the same story, speakers naturally reword things. Spontaneous variations. 

Yet there's a related, but neglected consideration. We shouldn't expect performance variants to confined to the same speech at a different time and place, but to the same speech at the same time and place.

It's generally acknowledged that the speeches, sermons, and dialogues in the Gospels and Acts are condensed. One stereotypical difference between the spoken word and the written word is that speech is a redundant medium. 

That parallels the difference between readers and listeners. A reader can process the material at his own pace whereas a listener hears what is said at the speaker's pace. Likewise, if a reader doesn't follow a sentence the first time he sees it, he can stop, go back, and reread it. 

By contrast, a listener can't pause the speaker. If an idea is spoken only once, it may get past the listener too fast to register.  If a listener doesn't understand a statement, and he puzzles over what it means, he can't simultaneously pay attention to the rest of what the speaker says. For the speaker just keeps on talking. 

As a result, a skillful speaker will repeat himself in the same speech to make it easier for listeners to process the message. He may repeat some phrases verbatim as well as paraphrasing the same idea. 

It's likely that Jesus expressed the same idea in different words in the course of the same discourse. The original discourse probably had performance variations. Not just wording things differently when he spoke to a different audience at a different time and place, but to the same audience at the same time and place.

If two or more people jotted down in journals what they heard Jesus say, they could, in principle, quote him verbatim, yet there'd still be verbal variations in their respective excerpts because they're quoting different parts of the same discourse. Where Jesus uses similar words to express the same idea. So there's no presumption that synoptic variants are redactional variants rather than performance variants. 

That doesn't rule out redaction in some cases. But we shouldn't default to that. 

The netherworld

Commenting on the witch of Endor episode, Robin Parry says:

The direction from which the spirit comes is repeated five times–he arises up from out of the earth. That makes perfect sense because the dead dwell under the earth R. Parry, The Biblical Cosmos (Cascade Books 2014), 80. 

Parry cites this to show that Biblical writers subscribe to a three-story universe. The realm of the dead is literally a huge subterranean cavern. However, Parry's inference is fallacious on several grounds. Here's the text:

8 So Saul disguised himself and put on other garments and went, he and two men with him. And they came to the woman by night. And he said, “Divine for me by a spirit and bring up for me whomever I shall name to you.” 9 The woman said to him, “Surely you know what Saul has done, how he has cut off the mediums and the necromancers from the land. Why then are you laying a trap for my life to bring about my death?” 10 But Saul swore to her by the Lord, “As the Lord lives, no punishment shall come upon you for this thing.” 11 Then the woman said, “Whom shall I bring up for you?” He said, “Bring up Samuel for me.” 12 When the woman saw Samuel, she cried out with a loud voice. And the woman said to Saul, “Why have you deceived me? You are Saul.” 13 The king said to her, “Do not be afraid. What do you see?” And the woman said to Saul, “I see a god coming up out of the earth.” 14 He said to her, “What is his appearance?” And she said, “An old man is coming up, and he is wrapped in a robe.” And Saul knew that it was Samuel, and he bowed with his face to the ground and paid homage. 15 Then Samuel said to Saul, “Why have you disturbed me by bringing me up?” Saul answered,  (1 Sam 28:9-14, ESV). 

i) The narrator doesn't say that that Samuel's ghost "came up". Rather, the narrator quotes three characters who use that terminology. Narrators don't necessarily or even presumptively endorse what they quote other people saying.

ii) Underworld imagery is based on the fact that graves are literally underground. Graves lie under the surface of the earth. 

iii) It's possible that some percentage of people in the ancient Near East actually thought the dead lived on in a vast, gloomy, subterranean necropolis. It's hard from our distance to say whether this is just an extended metaphor.

iv) In this context, "bring up" seems to be a necromantic formula based on netherworld imagery. An idiomatic phrase or incantation for summoning the dead. 

v) Apropos (iv), the medium may well continue to use the "up" language in her description of Samuel's apparition because that's part of the idiom. A linguistic convention for contacting the dead. 

In other words, it may be a dead metaphor (pardon the pun). The account begins with a stock formula, used by both characters (Saul and the medium) for conjuring the dead. And Samuel uses the same idiom. 

In addition, the repetition of the phrase makes it a leitwort. The whole account is suffused with the jargon of the trade to give it a particular cast. 

vi) Finally, if Samuel's ghost wanted to make a visible appearance, and speak to someone, where would that happen? Since Saul and the medium are earthlings, a face-to-face encounter requires a ghost to address the embodied human at eye-level. In other words, the ghost will appear, and assume a standing position, or create the illusion that he is standing, on terra firma. What other spatial frame of reference would work? Floating overhead? The encounter must take place at ground level because Saul and the medium are above ground. So we'd expect the surface of the earth to be the spatial frame of reference. What other spatial orientation would be feasible in that setting?

A Christian View Of The Afterlife And The Paranormal

I want to make several points that I hope will be helpful to people in thinking through issues pertaining to the afterlife and the paranormal. These subjects are important, and they often come up on television programs, in books, on the radio, on web sites, and in other contexts. It's important that we know how to address the issues.

This post isn't meant to be exhaustive. I'm just making several points among others that could be brought up.

- For most people, the afterlife has multiple phases. Think of Lazarus in Luke 16, for example. He was carried into Abraham's presence, in a sort of transitional phase between earth and heaven (Luke 16:22). Then he resided in Abraham's presence (Luke 16:23). Later, he'll be resurrected. So, Lazarus will have gone through at least a few different phases within the afterlife. The same can be said of unbelievers. For example, unbelievers haven't yet experienced resurrection, but will go through that phase of the afterlife in the future (John 5:28-29). The Bible also refers to different places in the afterlife that will exist in different contexts, like the new earth and the new Jerusalem. Genesis 35:18 refers to Rachel giving Benjamin a name as her soul departed. That's reminiscent of near-death experiences in which people report a somewhat lengthy process of leaving their bodies, sometimes going back and forth, in and out of the body. Sometimes the soul is even described as being attached to the body in some way, such as with a cord (The Handbook Of Near-Death Experiences [Santa Barbara, California: Praeger Publishers, 2009], 18). They didn't just instantaneously appear in heaven or hell. If there is such a process involved in the soul's departure from the body, with some people or with everybody, then that's another phase to take into account. The multiphased nature of the afterlife is important to keep in mind. People often take a simplistic approach toward the afterlife, or a Christian view of the subject in particular, as if those who have died are either in heaven or hell, and there's nothing more to it. Actually, there is more to it. We'll be able to better explain both the Biblical evidence and paranormal phenomena if we keep these distinctions in mind. For example, objecting that a person in hell wouldn't be able to come back to earth to make an appearance doesn't address whether the person could make an appearance during a phase when his soul is departing from his body, during a transitional phase between earth and hell, in a phase of hell that involves being a wandering spirit on earth, in a vision, etc.

Bulkheads

Lydia McGrew recently did a webinar, hosted by Jonathan McLatchie:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_9fUKdpPl6k&feature=youtu.be

I agree with most of what she said. And I commend the presentation to others. But I'd like to comment on some other things. 

During the Q/A session, she compared a courtroom witness who makes an innocent mistake (misremembering) to a witness who lies. Which witness would be more credible? That's a valid distinction.  

She mentioned someone who felt the McGrews emphasis on the human characteristics of Scripture was incompatible with divine inspiration. I'd just point out that according to the organic theory of inspiration, championed by Warfield, which is the standard paradigm in Baptist and Presbyterian inerrantist circles, human characteristics are not incompatible with the plenary inspiration of Scripture. 

She said she doesn't have worked out theory of inspiration. She approaches Scripture as a historian rather than theologian. Approaches Scripture as historical source material rather than a religious authority. Her methodology is inductive rather than a priori. The "nitty-gritty ground level". "What do we appear to have?"  

This raises a number of familiar issues. It goes back to old debates over the proper starting point when we formulate a theory of inspiration. Do we begin with the "phenomena" of Scripture?  It also goes to methodological differences between evidential and presuppositional apologetics. 

1. Let's put this in a larger context. Although some evidentialists affirm the inerrancy of Scripture, that's expendable to their theology because even if they discovered that Scripture was fallible, they have a safety net in the historical evidence and basic historical reliability of the Bible, especially the Gospels. 

A pragmatic objection to rejecting the inerrancy of Scripture is that once you deny it, there's nothing to prevent free fall. So the question is whether they have a containment principle. One way some of them defend their position is to say the Bible doesn't rise or fall as a unit. Rather, some books have better evidence than others. They're independent of each other in that respect. Skepticism about the Pentateuch doesn't spill over into skepticism about the Gospels because the Pentateuch and the Gospels are not on an evidential par. 

If we were using a metaphor to illustrate their orientation, we might use bulkheads. Sailors don't like to drown. As a result, they've designed vessels with bulkheads. The hull is subdivided into a series of watertight compartments so that even if the hull is punctured in one or more places, the entire hull doesn't fill with water. That contains the damage. If the hull is breached, the ship doesn't automatically sink. 

Some evidentialists think their position is actually more stable than doctrinaire inerrantists. They regard commitment to inerrancy as a "house of cards". By contrast, they think they have a fallback position even if the Bible is shown to be erroneous in some respects. 

2. What are we to make of that position? There's a sense in which it's preferable to have an alternative that stops short of instant apostasy if the Bible is perceived to be fallible. And in theory, it might be possible to treat books of the Bible on a case-by-case basis, depending on the particular evidence for each particular book. Kinda like a passenger train where if one car catches fire, it can be uncoupled from the other cars and left to burn without setting the entire train on fire.  

3. There are, however, some serious problems with this kind of evidentialism. For one thing, many books of the Bible aren't that compartmentalized. Because the NT, including the Gospels, constantly appeals to OT validation, the veracity of the NT is inseparable from the veracity of the OT.

4. Although we can approach the Bible historically, we must also approach the Bible theologically because it claims to be a theological document as well as a historical record. The Bible doesn't simply make claims about historical events. It also makes claims about a revelatory God. A God of words as well as deeds. One of the defining features of the Judeo-Christian faith is the stress on God who speaks, in contrast to the dumb idol gods of paganism. 

Not only does the God of biblical theism act in history, but he acts in people. He speaks to and through chosen agents. Which goes to another fundamental distinction: the difference between true and false prophecy. A false prophet isn't merely a prophet to makes false predictions. In principle and practice, a false prophet may make true predictions. What makes him a false prophet is that he presumes to speak on God's behalf without divine inspiration. 

Even in the case of revelation that originates in dreams and visions, visionary revelation is converted into verbal revelation. That's why we have a record of visionary revelation. It had to be verbalized. Committed to writing. Adapted from a visual medium to a propositional medium. 

5. Put another way, the Bible doesn't simply make claims people and events from a detached, third-person perspective. It also assumes a first-person perspective by making claims about itself. Not just what was said, but the divine speaker. It makes self-referential claims about the process of inspiration and revelation. That's essential to the identity of the Judeo-Christian faith as a revealed religion. A religion of the word. Revelatory words. Bible writers don't simply report facts, but report their religious experience, as instruments of divine disclosure. Conduits of divine communication. Depending on the genre, that's sometimes explicit and sometimes implicit. Sometimes conscious and sometimes unconscious:

http://triablogue.blogspot.co.at/2014/06/plenary-verbal-inspiration.html

It's misleading to say commitment to inerrancy is a priori rather than inductive. For what we "appear to have"–the "nitty-gritty ground level"–includes the revelatory self-ascription. That lies on the face of many biblical texts. And it is, by precedent, the presupposition of other texts. 

Inerrancy is not an a priori posit, like philosophical stipulations and speculations about what is fitting or unfitting for God to say, do, or permit. Inerrancy is not, in the first instance, a deduction from a theological intuition about the nature of God and God's relation to the world. Rather, the doctrine of plenary verbal inspiration is as much a part of the testimonial evidence as the historical claims. Indeed, they are intertwined:

https://frame-poythress.org/scripture-speaks-for-itself/

6. Not only is presuppositionalism more theological than evidentialism, but it's more philosophical in the sense that it rejects the coherence of an atheistic alternative. That's a wall, not a door. Atheism is not an exit, but an optical illusion (as it were). That's a door jam painted on a way. But there's nothing outside the reality of God's world. There's nowhere else to go. 

7. Randal Rauser furnishes an instructive comparison. He rejects the inerrancy of Scripture. He has a face-saving position that he euphemistically dubs the "appropriation" model of inspiration. However, Rauser's primary frame of reference is philosophical theology rather than revelation. Yet there's nothing distinctively Christian about philosophical theology divorced from Biblical revelation. At best, a generic theism about truths of reason rather than truths of fact. Necessary universal truths rather than contingent historical particulars. That nicely illustrates the hazards of a religious orientation that's not grounded in biblical revelation. 

Pseudo-dilemmas

Thought-experiments are common in science and philosophy. Atheists and Christian apologists both employ thought-experiments. These are useful in different ways:

i) Sometimes we resort to a thought-experiment because an actual expedient isn't feasible.

ii) Apropos (i), an advantage of thought-experiments in ethics is that no one is really hurt, since the victims are hypothetical characters rather than sentient people. 

iii) Thought-experiments enable us to screen out extraneous variables. By contrast, real life is messy.

iv) Thought-experiments are used to test a generalization. If there are counterexamples, then that's a hasty generalization. If it allows for exceptions, than it's not true or false in principle. Rather, it may be true or false depending on the situation. 

v) By the same token, thought-experiments can be used to test someone's consistency or commitment. If their position has dire consequences when taken to a logical extreme, will they balk?

vi) Despite the value of thought-experiments, it's necessary to distinguish between real or realistic dilemmas, and highly artificial or pseudo-dilemmas. 

Suppose an atheist puts a Christian on the spot by asking, What would you do if you discovered that the Fall (Gen 3) was legendary, or the Flood (Gen 6-9) was legendary, or the call of Abraham (Gen 12) was legendary, or the binding of Isaac (Gen 22) was legendary, or the Exodus was legendary, or the nativity accounts (Matthew & Luke) were legendary?

These hypothetical scenarios are designed to generate a psychological dilemma for the Christian. What is he prepared to jettison to relieve the dilemma?

In the nature of the case, dilemmas eliminate all the good options. That's what makes them a dilemma. Within that framework, there is no good answer. Every answer will be costly. 

But that the same token, that makes them pseudo-dilemmas. We're not really confronted with that stark choice. And we have no obligation to submit to those arbitrarily restrictive alternatives. 

Unless and until we actually have to cross that bridge, there's no reason to take them seriously. They're just mind games. A conundrum that only exists in the imagination rather than reality. It's up to God, in his providence, whether we face genuine dilemmas. 

vii) And thought-experiments cut both ways. It's easy to pose dilemmas for an atheist. How much is he prepared to lose? And that's not even hypothetical. 

Cliques

A perennial issue regarding inerrancy, historicity, and the Resurrection, is whether the Resurrection accounts are discrepant. Can the differences be harmonized? 

One problem with answering the question is due to the ambiguity of the question. In addition, some people, like Bart Ehrman or Harold Lindsell have a very rigid definition of what it means for an account to be factually accurate. 

There's more than one sense in which the Resurrection accounts may be reconcilable or irreconcilable: 

i) It's possible to collate the original order of events 

ii) There are plausible ways to collate the original order of events

iii) The accounts are hopelessly contradictory

(i) is a more ambitious claim than (ii). According to (i), by comparing the different accounts, we can reconstruct the original sequence. We can thereby demonstrate that the accounts are harmonious.

According to (ii), given the available data, there's more than one way to sequence the events. Although we can't detail the original sequence with certainty, we can demonstrate that the accounts aren't necessarily (or even probably) contradictory. 

Let's take a comparison. Suppose you walk into a high school cafeteria for the first time. You see a bunch of students at tables talking and eating. At first glance, the distribution appears to be random. 

However, if you come back day after day, you notice a pattern. Usually the same students sit together. The crowd self-segregates into smaller groups or cliques. Some students are friends with other students, although no student may be friends with every student. There may also be unpopular students who don't belong to any clique. 

In addition, there may be overlapping cliques. Two different cliques can share at least one student in common. Suppose Ted and Ed belong to the same clique, while Fred and Ed belong to another clique, but Ted and Fred don't belong to the same clique. 

Suppose there's a high school reunion ten years later. Let's say four alumni who attend the reunion jot down who they saw in diaries when they return home after the reunion that evening.

What would these entries have in common? It wouldn't be surprising if they have almost nothing in common besides a generic reference to their high school reunion. They might not name their alma mater, because they are making a record for their own benefit, and they know what high school they attended. They don't need to remind themselves of that.

In addition, it wouldn't be surprising the four accounts fail to mention any of the same students. That's because, when they go to their high school reunion, they don't want to reconnect with all their former classmates. They didn't even like some of their classmates. 

Instead, they want to reconnect with members of their clique. When they attend the reunion, they will have their eye out for a subset of students they want to see again. 

However, it wouldn't be surprising if at least two of the four accounts mention one or more students in common, due to overlapping cliques. At the reunion, Ed spoke to Ted and Fred, even though Ted and Fred didn't converse with each other. 

But contrast, it would be extremely surprising if all four accounts mentioned all the same students. Indeed, that would scarcely be credible. If the accounts are accurate, you'd expect one account to omit names included in another account. That's because socializing at such an event is not a random aggregate, but discriminating. Some former classmates are looking for other former classmates in particular. They won't write about most of the people in attendance. It would be a telltale sign of artificiality if all four accounts mentioned all the same students. 

Now, if you attempted to correlate these four accounts, could you reconstruct the original order of events. I don't see how that's possible. For one thing, these accounts are highly selective. There's not enough information to say who saw who first, then who saw who second, then who saw who third.

Moreover, it's not reducible to a single linear sequence even in principle. For the way in which members of one clique reconnect at that event aren't synchronized with how members of another clique reconnect at that event. There's a different sequence for each witness, because each witness talks to one classmate, then another, then another. And that will be different from the people another classmates talks to. 

Put another way, at a high school reunion there are reunions within reunions. They will break up into their old cliques, and chatter away with members of their own cliques. There will be parallel conversations in different cliques.

Furthermore, some arrive at the event sooner and leave sooner, some arrive later and leave later, some arrive later and leave sooner, while some arrive sooner and leave later. There will be many different chronologies within the same event. 

Compare that to the first Easter. You have different groups going at different times. It's not coordinated, but spontaneous. Some people may go back more than once. Some go as individuals, others go in groups. It's like the high school reunion with different cliques. 

When different witnesses write that down, or share their testimony, there will naturally be omissions, and it will be hard to intercalate one account with another account, since each account is selective, and even if they overlap, it will be hard to say who did what first, then who did what second, then who did what third, in a uniform series of encounters. 

It's completely unreasonable to think a reader should be able to harmonize the four accounts in that sense. Did Ted talk to Ed before or after Ted spoke to Fred? 

But what we may be able to do, using our imagination to fill in the gaps, is to arrange the same information in different possible configurations. What a critic of the historicity or inerrancy of the accounts must demonstrate is that there is no way to arrange these accounts into a plausible sequence. But the same imponderables which prevent a harmonist from reconstructing the original sequence prevent the critic from demonstrating a contradiction. 

I think the best we can expect at this distance from events is to mentally try out different combinations. And more than one hypothetical combination may be consistent with the available information. Go back to the illustration of four entries from different diaries about the same reunion. Your ability to correlate those accounts will be limited. That isn't special pleading. That's just the situation that confronts an outsider reading partial accounts of the same event. There's no presumption that the four accounts are inaccurate just because  we're unable correlate them with certainty, for reasons I've given.