thomstark.net
solipsistic realism
solipsistic realism
Maybe God isn’t dead. Maybe he’s just going deaf. Maybe he’s totally deaf in one ear, and partially deaf in the other. It’s understandable. He is getting to be a little ancient of days anymore. Eventually, everyone’s hearing starts to go. We’re made in God’s image after all, so I don’t know why we would expect it to be any different for the archetype.
Don’t get me wrong. He obviously has some hearing left. He still answers all sorts of prayers all the time. He makes sure Christians don’t have car wrecks on long drives, and that they don’t get any speeding tickets (unless he wants to teach them patience). He still blesses fatty fast food to nourish Christian bodies—a miniature miracle he performs on a routine basis. The reason some Christians get fat is because they sometimes forget to pray before eating, or they take a couple bites first. Those bites aren’t blessed to nourish. This is God’s way of making sure his people don’t succumb to embarrassment when it comes to public displays of piety. The louder you pray in a restaurant, the more nourishing your fried chicken. Silent prayers count for a blessing only if they are long and awkward, and take place while the waiter is waiting to hand you your entree. Short and discrete silent prayers just piss God off. He passes over your tray and blesses the food of the fat person at the table next to you, just out of spite.
No, God does answer prayers. God gets eighteen year old youth group kids into good colleges, helps busy mothers remember where they put their keys, makes mornings productive, and business ventures successful. God helps Bible college students retain information for important exams. God reduces fevers and eradicates cancer, in cooperation with the proper treatments. Prayers for the healing of people with AIDS seem to fall on deaf ears, but God does hear and answer prayers about helping victims of AIDS to cope, and to give them as painless a death as possible, in cooperation with lots of morphine, which he of course created. God makes divine appointments between Christians so they can feel better about themselves when they’re out of their element. God does “God things,” like get things for Christians at discounted prices. God achieves this by putting his finger on the part of a vendor’s heart that wants to help people who are helping others, which of course has the totally unrelated byproduct of making said vendor feel great about himself. God answers a lot of prayers, and often in very unexpected ways—like instead of a BMW he gives the preacher a Range Rover, which wasn’t his first choice, but still.
Yet some prayers God just doesn’t catch. Like the prayers of Christian missionaries on behalf of Haiti and its people. They pray for poverty to give way to sustainability, for practitioners of Voodoo to come to Christ before they die, for the people in their churches to be safe and for no disaster to befall them. They pray that the people of Haiti would no longer have to suffer. Some prayers God just doesn’t hear, not because he’s cruel, but because he’s old and mostly deaf. If God had heard the daily prayers of righteous wo/men sent up on behalf of the people of Haiti, on behalf of the hundred thousand individuals who died in last week’s earthquake, God would have done it differently. He would have reduced the strength of the quake considerably. Rather than an onslaught of divine wrath, it would have served as a divine warning. Or maybe God would have prevented the earthquake altogether, had God heard the prayers of his people. The prayer of a righteous man availeth much, but not as much as it used to.
I was in the earthquake last week. I was on the other side of the island, in the Dominican Republic, where it was only a 5.5, not a 7.0. But it was the same earthquake. I was in a little shack out in the middle of nowhere—a three bedroom scrap-metal home that houses about ten people. It didn’t collapse. It shook and rattled, but it didn’t collapse. If it did, we probably would have been fine. If it had been made of concrete (like the more expensive houses in the Dominican Republic) instead of scrap metals and woods, we could have been hurt, had it collapsed. But it didn’t at any rate. We thought it was a bit of an adventure at the time, having no idea that not too many miles away, tens of thousands of people were writhing and dying in agony as we laughed nervously.
I knew two Hatian ministers who lived in the Dominican Republic. Both of them had family back in Haiti—one had several brothers and other extended family members, the other had a two year old son. Communication was out. For days I watched them go about their business, quietly wondering whether their loved ones were dead or alive. The day we left the island to return to the States, these Hatian ministers trekked into a Hatian disaster zone to search for their loved ones. Wilby found his two year old son alive. Romano found his older brother dead, leaving nine children orphaned.
When we heard the news that the earthquake had not been as kind to the poorest country in the Americas as it had been to its racist neighbor (the Dominican Republic), the immediate response of several missionaries astonished me. “God is good,” they said. “God is faithful.” “I can’t wait to see how God redeems this,” said another. “God will bring glory to himself through this tragedy.” I couldn’t believe my ears, but I held my tongue. I knew that nothing I could say would make anything any better. But I was astonished at the effrontery of these gringos. Did they lose their homes? Had their mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and sons and daughters just been senselessly killed? What gives them the right to speak on behalf of those who suffer? What gives them the right to declare God not just innocent, but good? Not just guiltless, but faithful? Who appointed them jury? More significantly, when (in the five minutes since they heard about the devastation in Haiti) did they find the time to listen to the complaints of God’s accusers? Yet already an acquittal, or rather, an out of court settlement. That’s what they meant when they said, “I can’t wait to see how God redeems this.” In payment for the deaths of thousands and the suffering of millions, God promises to send Christians with food, medical supplies, clothes, gasoline, and the gospel—the gospel that God saves souls (obviously not bodies). What does this claim mean? “God will redeem this, bring glory to himself.” Let’s examine it.
Notice that first, gone is the biblical notion that things like earthquakes are directly caused by God, signs of his displeasure, vengeance, or impending final judgment. Most Christians (John Piper and his ilk notwithstanding) don’t think that way anymore. Christians know that earthquakes have perfectly natural explanations. Some leave open the possibility that God would cause an earthquake as judgment here and there, but most earthquakes are just the result of “natural causes.” So gone from this narrative is the notion that God was punishing Haiti for its sins, or more biblically, for the sins of its leaders (who are still in one piece, as it happens). Gone also is the notion that this earthquake is a sign of portentous times, a sign of the inbreaking kingdom of God, the coming of the Son of Man on the stratosphere (sans spacesuit), and the final judgment in which everybody who isn’t a Christian dies and goes to hell. We know better, because we know earthquakes have always happened, and happen all the time, so we know that they are not signs of God’s displeasure or of an impending worldwide massacre of Muslims, Atheists and Episcopalians.
What do we have left? What we have is the idea that where God is at in natural disasters is in the aftermath, specifically, in the response of his people. God is evident in the rallying together of Christians to ease the suffering of those whom God (for whatever reason) has allowed to suffer. God is present in the presence of medical supplies, food, clothing, gasoline, and gospel proclamation. Glory is brought to God as God orchestrates a massive force of missionaries who are able to exploit the vulnerability of those who suffer in order to win new converts, converts who are grateful for medical supplies and food and makeshift shelter. “Clearly Voodoo isn’t working for you. Come to the true God and live for eternity!”1
Apparently, however, God’s glory is seen only in the aid of Christians. When the United Nations and the United States give aid, that is paternalism. That does not bring glory to God. When atheists and humanists donate millions of dollars, that does not bring glory to God. They are just doing it to assuage their guilty consciences. So even though the vast majority of aid to Haiti comes from definitively non-Christian sources, glory is brought to God through the much smaller-scale aid work of Christians.
Honestly, what does it mean to say that God is going to redeem this situation? Did God cause Barack Obama to respond as he did? Or was Obama merely exploiting the situation to win the favor of the black community in the States, as Rush Limbaugh divined? Did God cause the United Nations to respond? Did he put it in the hearts of atheists to donate money, planes and supplies, to help their fellow human beings in Haiti? Are we to believe that if God did not exist, everybody would have just sat on their asses and laughed at Haiti’s suffering? Do unbelievers really look at this situation, see the global response to Haiti’s plight, and say, “Wow, God is amazing! Look at all his glory!” Or is it just Christians that see it that way? Isn’t this idea of “God bringing glory to himself” just a vestige of a theological era in which it was believed that every nation had a patron god, and that one nation’s political triumph brought glory and honor to their patron deity, among a mass of inferior deities? I mean, all the talk in the exodus narratives about Yahweh bringing glory to himself—that’s what’s going on there. Yahweh is better than Egypt’s god, than Midian’s god, than Canaan’s gods. That’s what’s going on in the legend of David and Goliath: Yahweh is better than the Philistines’ god. Through military conquest, Yahweh brings glory to himself, by taking it from surrounding deities.
In what sense, then, does a mass of Christians and non-Christians all giving aid to a group of people who are suffering bring glory to God? Even if God is orchestrating the entire relief effort, how does God bandaging up the wounds of the Haitians who survived exculpate God from complicity in their suffering and the death of one hundred thousand in the first place? Can you imagine such a defense offered by a mass murderer? “Yes, I shot 44 people in one hour and 32 of them died, but I drove the surviving 12 to the hospital. I don’t understand why I’m on trial here. You should be thanking me.” If God really created this earth, then God is responsible for the natural processes of this earth. If God made it, why did he make it this way, so that every once in a while, the earth opens up and swallows a hundred thousand people in death? Or are you going to tell me that prior to “the fall” there were no earthquakes? Earthquakes and tsunamis only happen because Eve ate a bite of a quince 6,000 years ago. After she bit into it, the composition of the earth was fundamentally altered on a real physical level so that now the earth itself has a bloodlust. That’s supposed to be an answer? We’re supposed to believe that?
Or maybe you’ll say that without suffering, nobody could be good. Goodness requires suffering in order to be shaped and proved. If that’s the case, then how was God good before evil came along? Apart from that problem, let’s try to get this straight. So, you’re saying that in order to make a hundred thousand people good, God killed them? Or rather, God killed a hundred thousand Haitians in order to make the remaining 8,900,000 Haitians good. So now God is arbitrarily sacrificing people (good people like Romano’s brother, father of nine) in order to have a hopefully positive effect on everybody that misses them. God takes away a minority’s chance to become good so that the majority will have that chance. That makes perfect sense! All right, God, you can go home now. You’re exonerated. We thought you were just killing innocent people arbitrarily—but you had a reason for it. You wanted to cause the survivors to suffer in order to build their character.
But wait, you say. These people weren’t innocent! No one is innocent! “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (There’s God’s glory again.)
Right. Forgive me. I forgot about that one. Any sin requires death, so really, we shouldn’t say God is cruel for killing these people. We should say that he is merciful for not killing them until now! All those thousands of faceless toddlers who are buried in mass graves of unidentified bodies—they deserved to die, because they once said “No” to their parents when it was time to go to bed.
Now you resort to the old cliché: “God is mysterious. The answers aren’t clear now, but they will become clear.” Indeed, you’re partly right. How we can affirm both that God created this world, and that God is good—that is a mystery. Whether it’s a profound mystery, or a convenient one, I’ll leave you to decide. But the moment we start defining “love” and “justice” and “goodness” as “whatever God does/commands,” that’s the moment those terms cease to have any usefulness for human beings. Either God is good and good is therefore unintelligible, or good is good and God is therefore unintelligible.
Regardless, who do you think you are, you armchair theologians, you professional apologists! Did God’s victims appoint you? Did they grant you the power to acquit the Most High? What gives you the right? Your Bible College degree? Your ordination? Your PhD? Your church attendance record? Your own personal experiences? Which of these gives you the right to issue an immediate “not guilty” verdict upon God, on behalf of nine new orphans?
January 19, 2010 - 11:34 PM
Good representation. It’s difficult to decry the romanticizing that constantly takes place, especially when it comes to the natural order of things, or, as others might say, “sporadic judgment acted out through natural disasters albeit not associated with the venerated end time account.”
January 19, 2010 - 11:40 PM
So, what answer(s) to that very old question do you propose?
January 19, 2010 - 11:55 PM
It’s not my place to propose any answers. That’s my main point here. And if it were, I haven’t come across any good answers so far. I’m open to suggestions. “I’m God; deal with it” doesn’t cut it for me, because that results in the disintegration of the notions of love and justice and order. If whatever God does is what justice is, then justice has no useful meaning for us, and certainly can’t be used to underwrite human society.
January 20, 2010 - 1:45 AM
On a similar discussion on Facebook, somebody wrote this:
My response:
January 20, 2010 - 1:50 AM
What it basically amounts to is the claim that the Haitians are at fault for their own deaths because they’re poor. Obviously he wouldn’t put it that way, but his argument can’t be reduced to anything simpler than this.
January 20, 2010 - 4:12 AM
Holy shit, Thom.
This is a very fine piece of writing. I had missed you.
I don’t have a comment other than awe. Thank you for neither unfairly maligning the Haitians nor unfairly acquitting ‘God’.
I’m so sad about those children. I’m so glad you’re okay.
January 20, 2010 - 9:53 AM
I appreciate that, Joey.
January 20, 2010 - 10:46 AM
Wow. That was a very intense, thought-provoking post.
January 20, 2010 - 10:55 AM
One person critiqued this post, saying that the very idea of accusing God is a modern invention, that in the Bible, people lament to God; they don’t accuse him.
Um, this is patently false. The Bible is replete with accusations against God, and the very idea of defending God’s righteousness (like the book of Romans) assumes that accusations against God’s character are taking place. So give the whole “modernity” card a rest.
This person also suggested that my arguments weren’t new or original.
Yeah. I never claimed they were. They don’t need to be. They have staying power.
January 20, 2010 - 11:26 AM
Thom,
This is an interesting and provocative piece of writing, but I would suggest this ‘flaw’ that seems to be woven through all of your reasoning:
If God is to be held ‘accountable’ for all of this disaster, then we are acknowledging His incredible power. For instance, there are billions of us here on earth and none of us are getting the blame for this tragedy; only God.
If He is actually in a position where He could be held accountable for this earthquake, then he is in no way comparable to the guy who kills some folks and rescues the survivors, but rather He is STILL in power over those who are dead. Your writing seems to challenge God as responsible for wielding unbelievable and miraculous power on earth while charging Him with being powerless to do anything about the death of even one person.
It appears that you are setting the stage for a trial that looks like this:
Based on God’s superpowers and our limited ability to observe, we charge Him with criminal activity. We also posit that God’s superpowers somehow END at the very point of our own limitation to observe, that being death.
At some point, we simply have to decide if we will trust God or not, even though we don’t have all knowledge of Him. Personally, I think He looks like Jesus and I fall back understanding in facing the unknown.
Thom, I do not have your brilliant intellect, and my experience in debate tells me that you would win pretty much any debate with me, but as I have read some of your writing, I often wonder if intellect is your greatest strength and gifting, and yet a hindrance to trusting God?
I like the honesty you bring to the page as you discuss the nonsense in Christian culture but I think there is more to you and for you in life than intellect and satire.
January 20, 2010 - 11:28 AM
Are lament and accusation mutually exclusive? I am thinking in particular of Jesus on the cross in Matthew; he quotes the 22nd Psalm, a Psalm of lament that moves from accusation to a restatement of faithfulness. Your post shows robustly the accusatory side, but it does not show a movement back toward God. Near the end of Ps. 22, we read, “For he has not despised or disdained
the suffering of the afflicted one;
he has not hidden his face from him
but has listened to his cry for help.”
It seems to me that, in the midst of tragedy, both sides of this are important.
January 20, 2010 - 11:59 AM
Jim,
Thanks for your good comments.
Here’s my problem with your critique. What do you expect God to do with the dead people? Are you a universalist? That’s one thing, if you are, although it’s not a biblically tenable position. But that’s irrelevant to me. So let’s say God makes everything all right in the end and everybody who dies gets raised to eternal good life. That makes this life some sort of supreme test, some would see it as cruel, and I would be inclined to agree. It also seems to me that you have a bit of a dualistic ontology. The Bible never sees the death of the body as a good thing. In the OT, it’s an evil that can’t be overcome. In the NT, it’s an evil that supposedly will eventually be overcome (although we’re still waiting on that one). But it’s always and everywhere an evil.
And it strikes me as a bit obscene to say that ultimately it’s all right if God kills children because he’s powerful enough to raise them from the dead.
This isn’t really an intellectual thing for me, although I do try to be intellectually honest, and to hold others to the same standard. It’s not about intellect and satire. It’s just that North American Christianity strikes me as a bit ridiculous, i.e., deserving of ridicule—precisely because it contributes to these less than honest ways of thinking about human suffering and God’s relationship to it.
Perhaps a better metaphor for God then, rather than the rampaging killer in a court superior to him, would be the dictator.
January 20, 2010 - 12:05 PM
Drew,
Lament and accusation aren’t mutually exclusive. No.
It’s true that you can accuse God and then move back to trust.
But I’m saying some people need to be allowed to demand evidence that God should be so trusted in the face of all these accusations of misconduct.
Job waited for an answer, and ultimately didn’t really get one from God. He basically got a “shut up, I’m God” response. That doesn’t really get God off the hook. I think the book of Job ultimately maligns God, and that Jews are okay with that.
One holocaust survivor describes God as a loving husband who occasionally becomes abusive. The wife just has to stick it out.
That’s an honest appraisal. Christians for some reason aren’t comfortable with maligning God and leaving it unresolved. Jews don’t tend to have any qualms about that.
I’m not saying that’s a solution. It’s not, by definition.
This post isn’t really about my view of God. It’s just about clearing the way for people who suffer to have their say without Christians who haven’t suffered deciding for them. If sufferers want to exonerate God, that’s up to them. If they want to accuse God, and expect an answer, that’s their right.
January 20, 2010 - 1:03 PM
“The Bible never sees the death of the body as a good thing. In the OT, it’s an evil that can’t be overcome. In the NT, it’s an evil that supposedly will eventually be overcome (although we’re still waiting on that one). But it’s always and everywhere an evil. ”
“For I am hard pressed between the two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better” Phil 1:23
I think postmodern American culture has seen all death as evil, but the Bible has not….and I’m not a universalist
January 20, 2010 - 1:08 PM
Yes it has. Paul could see his own death as a good thing only because he was confident of his eschatology (which, as it happens, was wrong). It was indirectly a good thing (for Christians) because the evil of death was to be overcome.
In the OT, that possibility is expressly denied. In the NT, it is limited to believers.
January 20, 2010 - 1:10 PM
Plus, Paul lived a full life and that statement came at the tail end of it. That’s a far cry from saying the death of an infant doesn’t matter.
January 20, 2010 - 1:19 PM
I wonder when some of us will stop assuming that a) smart people are fucked up because they’re smart, or b) that everything comes down to being either “too modern” or “too postmodern.”
January 20, 2010 - 1:21 PM
Amen.
January 20, 2010 - 1:38 PM
Thom,
Correct me if I’m wrong, and forgive me if I’m right — because it will mean I’m the guy who overexplains the joke and ruins it — but it seems to me that you’re not placing God in the dock (look Ma! I alluded to C.S. Lewis!) so much as questioning how well certain conceptions of God hold up in the face of human suffering.
I’ve said this sort of thing elsewhere, but if God is a capricious bastard then God is a capricious bastard and there’s nothing we can do about it. For that matter, if the Flying Spaghetti Monster is a capricious bastard, then so be it.
Was it MacLeish who said “If God is good, he is not great; if he is great, he is not good”? Anyway, what I find delightful about this piece is the inversion of a common apologetical move: it is standard fare for apologists to claim that if we abandon belief in God, or in a certain view of God, we undermine morality by rendering it baseless.
You seem to be suggesting that if we cling to belief in God, or to certain views of God, we undermine morality by rendering it meaningless — and pretty much for the same reasons.
Nicely done.
January 20, 2010 - 1:42 PM
You are correct again, Ira. And this time I won’t get mad at you for overexplaining the joke, because I’ve learned that most people never get it anyway, even after I explain it to them! (E.g., “Christianity is inherently violent.”)
January 20, 2010 - 1:45 PM
Thom,
It would seem that this natural movement of tectonic plates only serves as a reminder that if there is a God he is either absent or grossly ambivalent. Furthermore those declarations of God’s ultimate redeeming powers or his goodness seen in the midst of tragedy seem to be nothing more than an attempt to hide behind a theology that only seems to work for those generally unacquainted with suffering.
Looking back to the Tsunamis of the recent past, volcanic eruptions such as St. Helen’s, and now this Haitian earthquake I am left with tangible evidence that we live in a world of natural movements neither designed nor orchestrated by a deity. The writers of the O.T. and N.T. (as well as other scriptures of the time) had the privilege of attributing these actions to the divine world because of a lack of understanding of the natural world. Now it would be foolish to operate on such a primitive understanding of the mechanics of the cosmos. If we can no longer give deities creidit for storms, earthquakes, blizzards, or plagues of locust it would seem equally foolish to malign God for those same occurrences. For me the only viable conclusion is to simply relegate God to an ambivalent observer, deaf to the cries of the afflicted, and unmoved by the broken.
~ n
January 20, 2010 - 1:51 PM
Coherent, Nicolas, to say the least. Thanks for bringing it home.
January 20, 2010 - 1:54 PM
The ’smart people are f’d up’ meme is the fear of the other.
Or at least it is in late modernism
January 20, 2010 - 2:05 PM
Oh snap.
January 20, 2010 - 2:25 PM
Why are YOU guys defending smart people?
January 20, 2010 - 3:14 PM
it reminds me of a story i heard about some rabbis in a concentration camp (sorry i don’t have a reference). the rabbis got together and decided that god can not exist, because he would not allow this kind of suffering to occur to his people.
after they decided this, they prayed to god.
secondly, just a thought…
what if, from an ontological point of view, we see sin as not ‘existing’? what i mean by this, is to say that sin has no real weight, no presence, no being. sin is a gap, sin is THE gap between god and man. sin is a hole. it’s the title for that loss of relationship.
so, these things that happen are not a ‘punishment’ because we have done something ‘bad’, but more like a consequence of how distant things are from god.
i know it needs to be worked out more, especially in this context, but it’s a thought.
January 20, 2010 - 3:20 PM
You realize that’s not at all a biblical definition of sin?
Regardless, it still doesn’t answer a host of questions. Here’s one of many: if these things are the consequence of sin, then why do they happen equally to those who are out of relationship with God, and those who are in it?
It seems to me we have to really stretch to try to get our theological categories to fit the real world.
January 20, 2010 - 4:13 PM
“Apparently, however, God’s glory is seen only in the aid of Christians. When the United Nations and the United States give aid, that is paternalism.”
I have had this same discussion with many of my Christian friends who are generally anti-government.
The way I see it, if you really care about the needs of other people, you would be more concerned with actually making sure their needs are truly met more than whether its through the church programs or through government programs.
It’s hard for me not interpret that attitude as “If God (translation: the church) doesn’t get the glory for helping these people then fuck ‘em.”
January 20, 2010 - 4:26 PM
Good post, Thom. In retrospect, I’m glad you got to experience the earthquake, and meet people who were affected more severely through the loss of their family members (I’m not glad they lost their family members, but that you are able to be more affected through knowing them and their loss). Would you have written this otherwise?
I think we live too removed from loss and hardship, that we are not affected by it often enough. I’m glad you were this time.
January 20, 2010 - 7:45 PM
Wow…When it comes to large words describing different types of belief systems I am completely lost.. That being said, I wish to confess… I was a disgusting “on fire Christian” who in her infinite Christianity told a woman who had just lost a long awaiting arrival of her unborn child..”Well maybe it wasn’t God’s will”……I can never take back these vile flippant hurtful words and the permanent damage this caused this woman’s heart and beliefs. I forever hope to see her again and ask for her forgiveness.
Thom ~Thank You for pointing out these damaging words that were said… The pain in Haiti is unmeasurable these kind of words are USELESS. I find your writings make me think instead and I hope to stop aimlessly following a herd of people who can not define true love. I’m learning.
January 20, 2010 - 11:46 PM
Thank you for the thought provoking blog Thom. If I can ask you a question, what do you think a world in which no suffering or pain existed would be like? Would it be possible to still be human and have free will in such a place?
January 21, 2010 - 6:24 AM
I have no idea what it would be like, but that’s not the point. There can still be free will without all these natural evils, like earthquakes, tsunamis, snakebites, etc. God could have given us gills in like two seconds, and no child would ever drown while playing in the water.
It’s all random.
As for free will, an omnipotent and omniscient God could have easily given us more moral intelligence to match our free will. The garden narrative makes it seem like God wanted to keep us morally retarded. Why? Give us moral intelligence and perhaps we would freely choose to do good with more consistency.
Moreover, it is hardly “free will” if when we choose to do what God doesn’t want, he kills us, or promises to torture us, or whatever. The God of the Bible doesn’t actually ever give free will. He attempts to coerce us into doing his will. So the argument, “but we’d all be robots if there wasn’t free will” is irrelevant.
January 21, 2010 - 8:00 AM
Free Will = Swimming for 180 days after god flooded the world. That pretty much sums it up I think.
January 21, 2010 - 9:44 AM
thom,
].
i believe that it is biblical, but that is a discussion not for this thread.
you are right though, in that, it’s not consistent ‘across the board.’ i don’t have an answer for that [yet
i’m just struggling through all of this with the rest of you. i think we do need to do something to try and rethink and/or be more honest in our theological attempts, because as you have pointed out, what we have now doesn’t work.
January 21, 2010 - 10:18 AM
Thom…nice piece of writing. It had everything – dark humor, thought provoking commentary, and of course practical experience to back the whole thing up. Even as Lutheran pastor I was truly crushed anew with a profound rendering of the “crux theologorum” through your eyes. I would want to thank you…but that doesn’t seem to be an appropriate response to such a piece…how about, just a sorrowful nod and a grimanced smile.
.
I really only have two thoughts…questions more like it. First your sum-up line… “Either God is good and good is therefore unintelligible, or good is good and God is therefore unintelligible”…makes me have a linguistic question. Almost a Pontius Pilate moment if you will: “What is good even according to us?” Not to fall into the full pit of deconstructionism…but if good is “good” what is that and how does it render God totally unintelligible. I believe, to the situation, good is defined by not killing babies and God killed babies…therefore, we know good and God didn’t do the good expected so therefore God is unintelligible at best and a freaking sadistic at the worst. However, does this render God totally unintelligible or just so in the case of killing babies, and does that even matter? This was sparked as I have lived in Texas for the past six months, and down here a lot of people think killing criminals and the like is “good” and “just”…I happen to think differenstly. Therefore, my conclusion of what is “good” and “just” is quite different from others…even in the case of killing. Probably just another blind alley.
The second thought I have for whole question is that of hope. I must admit after reading the blog and looking at some Haitian pictures for a while and thinking about my own past, I was struck with my own, as Luther would say, “anfechtung”. Basically, for the briefest of moments experienced hoepelessness. However, since I love movies and how they express things (usually in a wrong but still helpful way), I thought of a classic – “The Shawshank Redemption.” Esepcially, two parts. One where Andy is newly out of the “hole” for playing Opera in the prison, and he is talking about a place where the evils of the prison can’t get to – “hope” he says. Then, how Red talks about how “hope is a dangerous thing” and how it “can drive men insane.” The second scene is between Andy and Red where Andy makes the somewhat famous line, “Get busy living or get busy dying.” For some reason these two scenes injected a layer of hope into my thinking about this questions and your blog Thom. However, in the end that are probably just cliches that really don’t help anything, but just divert attention away from the suffering long enough jus to take the next breath – ah, the good ole “silver lining” theology. However, it may be deeper than that.
Keep writing, my friend. I’ll keep praying with the rabbis and with Job about the issue…who knows what will happen then
January 21, 2010 - 10:26 AM
God’s Wrath According to Pat Robertson
January 21, 2010 - 3:05 PM
Thom, thanks for this provocative piece. Just curious, have you read David Bentley Hart’s “The Doors of the Sea” on the Indonesian tsunami?
January 21, 2010 - 3:25 PM
Joe,
Yeah. Hart is very good, but he is still waiting for Jesus to come back and make everything right, and he still thinks an ultimate resolution will be enough to redeem history.
I disagree on both counts.
January 21, 2010 - 4:22 PM
Jonathan,
Good question. Whether certain activities (like executing murderers) are good or not good will always be disputed, but what “good” means in general is not in dispute. It’s true that we don’t have one fixed source to tell us what’s good and what isn’t in every situation—but that’s just the way the world is; there’s nothing we can do about that. And the Bible certainly isn’t that, because there is disagreement on what constitutes the good even within its pages.
I think the vast majority of people would agree that killing babies isn’t good, for any reason. Some groups practiced child sacrifice (and child sacrifice is even held in high esteem in some parts of the Bible), but the vast majority of people today would say that any invading army that comes into a foreign area and kills all the children and pregnant women is an evil army. If we want to say that “good” is whatever God does, then we would have to conclude that killing babies and committing genocide isn’t intrinsically evil. If those things aren’t intrinsically evil, then absolutely nothing is intrinsically evil. Therefore, calling God good in these cases completely undermines the foundations of morality.
But it’s not just killing babies that is the problem. As you yourself acknowledged, you think killing criminals isn’t good. More importantly, killing babies and even genocide aren’t the only moral problems the Yahweh of the Bible has. There’s the sanctioning of slavery, the idea that women are property, and the idea that the women of your enemies become your property. I mean, the list could go on and on. Killing babies isn’t the God of the Bible’s only moral problem by a long shot, as if killing babies weren’t enough!
Now, you might say (like I do) that the way Yahweh is depicted in the Bible isn’t accurate, but rather reflects a common ideology shared by most ancient Neareastern peoples. But that still leaves the problem of natural evils, which is the subject of this post. And it’s not just millions of babies throughout history that natural disasters have killed—but good parents, good people, and not so good people, all alike. It’s completely random. Religious people have always tried to make sense of this kind of suffering by giving some sort of explanation for it (punishment, discipline, demonic powers, etc.) but all of the explanations fall short. As Nicolas said above, the way of the world seems to indicate that if there is a God, he isn’t interested. The randomness of it all defies notions of divine order. As Ecclesiastes says (without the later additions), good people die young and bad people live long and prosper. The earth rises up and kills, randomly, without regard for who might “deserve it” and who doesn’t. If God created this world, then God is responsible for these deaths. Of course, that’s if you believe in creation ex nihilo. That’s a doctrine that didn’t develop until well after the second temple period. The biblical idea of creation has God fashioning order out of chaos, which is a perpetual task. The forces of chaos are always wreaking havoc, and God is always fighting them back. That’s a cosmology I just can’t buy, especially given the biblical portrait of Yahweh we outlined above, which is of a Yahweh who seems to create as much chaos as he conquers.
In response to your second thought, yes! Hope is good. It’s just a question of what we’re putting our hope in. Are we hoping that someday soon God will intervene miraculously on a global scale by sending the Son of Man on the clouds with his angels, to punish the wicked and reward the good? If that’s what we’re hoping for, I think we’re wasting a lot of good hope. As I’ve argued in earlier posts, Jesus was an apocalyptic thinker, and he very clearly predicted that this world-conquering Son of Man figure would come on the clouds and judge the nations within one generation of Jesus’ lifetime, before the last of his disciples died. Jesus was wrong about that. And since he was wrong about that, and since two thousand years have since passed, I tend to think the whole idea of a cosmic apocalypse was itself a cosmic blunder.
But I do hope. If there is a God, and this God is good, I hope it wakes from its slumber and sees what has become of the world, and helps us along. But mostly, I hope that we can work together, think and act creatively, to make a better world. If we are the children of a God, it is time we began to act like it.
Of course, the state of the world, and of the human race within it, gives me as much reason to despair as to hope. All I can do is hope hope wins out eventually.
January 22, 2010 - 4:10 AM
Humans do not need a god-concept to establish a cosmic origin, free will, human intelligence, reality’s intelligibility, morality or spirituality. And while it is quite natural for us to aspire to interpret reality through religious questioning, we don’t need definitive answers to such questions in order to consider life good, for the most part, notwithstanding that reality remains very much ambiguous for us and undeniably ambivalent toward us. A theodicy, as a cognitive proposition, results from category errors. As an evaluative posit, a theodicy strikes me as cruel.
January 23, 2010 - 11:34 AM
A good case for Buddhist atheism.
January 23, 2010 - 12:28 PM
Response to: The Earthquake in Haiti, God, and the Arbitrariness of Life
January 23, 2010 - 3:14 PM
“Yeah. Hart is very good, but he is still waiting for Jesus to come back and make everything right…”
Curious: do you disagree with the ‘waiting’ part or the part where Jesus comes back?
January 23, 2010 - 3:21 PM
Yes.
January 23, 2010 - 3:27 PM
You don’t think he’s coming back? That’s interesting.
In my reading about Jesus’ view of the apocalypse and parousia I somehow missed that it wasn’t that it wasn’t to be imminent but that it wasn’t to be at all.
If you want to point me to your own writings on the subject, do.
January 23, 2010 - 3:32 PM
We’ve had this discussion at some length I thought.
Jesus thought it was imminent. He thought that because he was an apocalyptic thinker. The whole idea of a “final judgment” is apocalyptic thought. You can’t take the “imminent” out and keep the rest.
Jesus was definitely wrong about the imminence, and I think he was wrong about the lot of it. As I said above, “I tend to think the whole idea of a cosmic apocalypse was a cosmic blunder.”
But its historical development is clear, and the motivations for the belief infinitely understandable. Anybody who suffers is sympathetic with the desire for a cosmic catastrophe that makes all things as they should be. But we’re still waiting for Godot.
Let’s go. [They stand still.]
January 23, 2010 - 4:15 PM
We did. The key part I missed was “You can’t take the ‘imminent’ out and keep the rest.”
Talking apocalyptic with you before was definitely eye-opening, and I have a lot to learn.
Still, like DBH, I’m also waiting. I believe that “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.”
I’m not at the place where I’m ready to pitch out the idea of the apocalypse altogether. Thanks for your patience and scholarship.
January 23, 2010 - 4:17 PM
No patience or impatience involved, really!
Tell me, do you believe in hell?
January 23, 2010 - 4:28 PM
Hell? Yes.
A fiery place of eternal conscious torment? No.
January 23, 2010 - 4:30 PM
So you don’t believe in hell. Please elaborate,
January 23, 2010 - 4:55 PM
That’s so long. Do I have to?
Shortest version possible:
1. “Hell” is scripturally problematic. It seems to me that the New Testament is mostly silent and definitely mysterious on the idea of an afterlife. I lack any evidence that most (nearly all) Jesus’ statements on heaven and hell in the gospels should have anything to do with the afterlife.
2. “Hell” is unnecessary to catholic belief. I trust that the resurrection of the dead and a new heaven and a new earth are a crucial part of the story we’re in based on the Nicene creed, whereas popular constructions of heaven and hell play an infinitesimal part if any.
3. “Hell” is philosophically problematic. Regarding existence: I take it that God’s creation is good (another essential component of the story). If existence itself is a good, how can something exist apart from God? I see this as a different problem than good things gone wrong existing, for a time, in the universe that God created. But, ultimately, these things need to be either made right or cease to exist.
4. “Hell” is problematic morally. I have no interest in serving a god that would eternally punish anyone. What possible thing could creatures do that would merit eternal conscious torment?
So that’s the short version.
January 23, 2010 - 5:41 PM
Well, Jesus believed in hell. Hell was another idea that developed within apocalyptic Judaism. See Dale Allisons’s chapter on hell in his book, Resurrecting Jesus. Yet another aspect of Jesus’ apocalyptic worldview that you reject, yet you hang on to a final judgment/cosmic catastrophe.
January 23, 2010 - 6:03 PM
I have no doubt that I need to better understand apocalyptic Judaism in the time of Jesus. The book you mentioned (and it’s prequel) seems like a good place to start.
Do you believe Jesus rose from the dead? (physical resurrection)
January 23, 2010 - 6:40 PM
Allison’s 100 page chapter on the resurrection in the aforementioned book is the best treatment I have read anywhere, infinitely more useful and intellectually honest than N.T. Wright’s 800 page tome on the subject.
January 23, 2010 - 6:47 PM
My birthday is May 10. Now you know what to give me.
Am I right that Allison’s take is ‘It might have happened. I hope it did.”?
And would that be an accurate reflection of your own view?
January 23, 2010 - 6:50 PM
Dammit, Thom — like I need more to read. For what it’s worth, I kind of liked N.T. Wright before that book, which pretty much soured me on his Bishopness. Joey — I can’t speak for Thom, but I don’t believe in the Resurrection in anything but a poetic sense.
Nor do I believe in a conscious afterlife. This is it.
Cheers.
January 23, 2010 - 6:54 PM
Thom — I think Jesus believed in final judgment, and used Gehenna as an image of that judgment. To what extent he believed in the conventional notion of Hell is, I think, less clear. If a developed vision of Hell was part of the apocalyptic paradigm from which he operated, then sure. But a lot of the baggage we saddle that idea with seems kind of questionable.
January 23, 2010 - 7:12 PM
Ira, you need to read the aforementioned chapter on hell by Allison.
Joey, you can’t substitute reading Allison’s chapter with a summary of his attitude toward the question, as I know you know—but his take is: it could have happened; there are good naturalistic explanations accounting for the data; I really want to believe it happened.
January 23, 2010 - 7:17 PM
And I need to read it, too, because Ira’s response was similar to mine.
I wasn’t looking for a substitute. I just added it to my list of books to inherit or steal. I was more just asking if that’s where you land.
I wonder if I really want to believe that it happened or if I just believe that it happened?
January 23, 2010 - 7:19 PM
Good question.
FTR: The entire chapter on Gehenna from Allison’s book is visible on Google books. Yippee!
January 23, 2010 - 7:30 PM
Well, that makes me feel better, because without Hell, where would I tell people to go who piss me off? Cleveland?
January 23, 2010 - 8:14 PM
I’m enjoying the read very much. More ‘read-able’ than I was expecting.
January 24, 2010 - 2:07 AM
No apocalypse. No hell either. At the most, it might be a necessary theological construct to convey the reality that God would not coerce a relationship on anyone. For all practical purposes, for various reasons, in my book, it’ll be empty. I’m open-minded re: immortal soul, but, push come to shove, what serves us as a soul, in my view, ain’t likely immortal. Good conversation.
January 24, 2010 - 3:21 AM
Honesty: hard for me to conceive of a Christianity apart from the resurrection…that is, Jesus’ and ours. If God doesn’t make it right through Christ then what is it? A reform movement within Judaism? Yes, that. I believe it’s more, but at least that. I think it’s good to see Christ within that world, and so I have a lot to learn.
I’m going to be wrong on a lot of things in my life. I could be in worse company than to be wrong with the likes of Paul, St. Francis and Peter Maurin. And although Bishop Tom is taking a smackdown in recent comments, he’s a’ight in my book.
January 24, 2010 - 9:29 AM
You wrote a book?!
January 24, 2010 - 9:40 AM
John, whether you’ve written one or not, the proper response is:
“Don’t sound so surprised, asshole.”
January 24, 2010 - 9:47 AM
No, I was talking to Joey. He said Tom Wright was all right in his book.
January 24, 2010 - 10:26 AM
Darn. I really wanted John to say that.
January 24, 2010 - 10:31 AM
Don’t sound so surprised, asshole.
January 24, 2010 - 10:32 AM
There. You happy?
January 24, 2010 - 11:20 AM
Oh my! Please pardon my lapse into impolitic speech.
January 24, 2010 - 11:35 AM
Really, Sylvest. Show some decorum. Thom’s blog has standards.
January 24, 2010 - 11:46 AM
Resurrection? Yeah, I agree, essential.
At-one-ment? Also essential. But not the old penal, substitutionary trope. Bad theodicy.
Might there be a grand cosmic Justice System, robed in a garment of legal and moral realities? That’s not an unreasonable question. Not unimportant either. Sounds to me like a cosmological question that science and philosophy can get after.
In addressing our ultimate concerns, religion, in general, and Christianity, in particular, go WAY beyond these questions (even if they don’t go entirely without them). It addresses realities like the nature of the Father and of the Kingdom.
January 24, 2010 - 12:11 PM
Thom’s blog has standards?!
January 24, 2010 - 1:48 PM
Ira, I so very badly wanted to tell Thom just to fuck off, but I have to show some self-restraint because, for weeks now,
Rome’s tracking my every move and the Illuminati, I mean Iliterati, is watching for my next misstep.
Most cordially and with the deepest respect, I remain truly yours,
Abraham Lincoln
January 24, 2010 - 1:49 PM
Apparently, it does. I think my last comment just got spam-filtered.
January 24, 2010 - 1:51 PM
Ira, I so very badly wanted to tell Thom just to fuck off, but I have to show some self-restraint because, for weeks now,
Rome’s tracking my every move and the Illuminati, I mean Iliterati, is watching for my next misstep.
Most cordially & very respectfully, I remain very truly yours,
George Washington
January 24, 2010 - 2:10 PM
Washington uses “very” more liberally than Lincoln.
January 24, 2010 - 2:40 PM
Oh dear God, when will Ken Sylva get over himself?
January 24, 2010 - 2:54 PM
Joey and John,
Resurrection is a powerful image, and I agree that it is an indispensable part of Christian theology. I would not agree, however, that this necessarily means assent to resurrection as a metaphysical claim. In other words, I don’t think it means believing that Jesus literally rose from the dead or that we should expect the same for ourselves someday.
John, I totally don’t get how the idea of some cosmic justice system is “a cosmological question that science and philosophy can get after.” They can’t. I don’t think scientific process could touch such an idea at all, and while philosophy might speculate about such things, and be welcome to do so, it remains just that — speculation.
I can see justice as something we hope for, even something we strive for. But I can’t, in any ultimate sense, see it as something for which we have any real evidence. The world as we know it is arbitrary, ruled as much by an anarchy of fates as by anything providential. True, the fact that we’re here at all and able to bullshit about it suggests some fortuitous circumstances at play, but we’re telling the story from the point of view of those who won the cosmic lottery.
January 24, 2010 - 2:58 PM
42.
January 24, 2010 - 11:24 PM
re: John, I totally don’t get how the idea of some cosmic justice system is “a cosmological question that science and philosophy can get after.” They can’t. I don’t think scientific process could touch such an idea at all, and while philosophy might speculate about such things, and be welcome to do so, it remains just that — speculation.
Ira, I view science as a descriptive methodology, philosophy as a normative methodology, culture as an evaluative enterprise and religion & other meta-perspectives as interpretive enterprises. Each approach is autonomous in asking reality, respectively, 1) what is that? 2) how does one best acquire or avoid that? 3) what’s that to me/us? and 4) how does all of this tie (or re-ligate) together?
Every human value-realization integrally relates these otherwise autonomous approaches. Science, then, is inherently normative. Philosophy, for its part, must employ the “is” provided by descriptive science in order to reason its way to a normative “ought.”
Taken together, science and philosophy are cosmological enterprises. I distinguish them from culture and religion/ideology, which I consider axiological enterprises.
The rubric works like this: the normative mediates between the descriptive and interpretive to effect the evaluative. These autonomous approaches are not logically-related (applying distinctly different methods & asking very different types of questions), but they are, one might say, intellectually-related, working together whenever we realize a human value.
In my view, what is necessary to lead a good and moral life is transparent to human reason and we do not need some special divine revelation in order to distinguish good from evil, right from wrong. We especially don’t need religion providing answers to what are essentially scientific questions.
Science and philosophy employ autonomous methodologies and “get after” one set of human concerns. The presumption is that religions and ideologies and metaphysicians are more than welcome in the public square to speak to moral realities but need to translate their propositions and reason together with others of goodwill.
And I’m very cool with defining “get after” as speculation or question-asking. I am only circumscribing different horizons of concern, suggesting the nature of the questions they ask. I am not suggesting how conclusive anyone’s proofs or answers might be. But I do have rubrics for that, too.
January 24, 2010 - 11:59 PM
That’s what I was thinking.
January 25, 2010 - 12:25 AM
Ira wrote: “Resurrection is a powerful image, and I agree that it is an indispensable part of Christian theology. I would not agree, however, that this necessarily means assent to resurrection as a metaphysical claim. In other words, I don’t think it means believing that Jesus literally rose from the dead or that we should expect the same for ourselves someday.”
Ira, in my view, Christianity remains in search of a metaphysic, just like the rest of the world. I prefer to prescind from metaphysical-like interpretations to a much more vague phenomenological perspective. Thus, I tend to look at Scripture and Tradition and come away with the vague notion of an event, which is just to say that “something happened.” And I call this happening and what ensued in its wake the Resurrection Event.
Now, what that means literally for either Jesus or anyone else? Well, different takes on this are naturally variously compelling to different people and peoples.
I think, again, we can back up and look at the overall thrust of Jesus’ life, and that of other traditions even, from a more vague perspective, and we can reasonably come away with the idea that the saints and mystics and authentic practitioners of these traditions are testifying to profound experiences of a reality that is ultimately unitive and love-filled, that awakens us to solidarity and inspires in us compassion, and that inspires a trust-relationship with and toward reality, itself. This, then, is a rather universal testimony to the idea THAT reality is, at bottom, friendly, even as we might be left to wonder exactly HOW this may be so, because the evidence, as you note, is ambiguous.
Once we situate Christianity and its specific message in the context of the other great traditions, its specific hopes, that all may be well, do not appear wholly unreasonable. I think the novelist Walker Percy was very faithful in his articulation of the human predicament, as informed by his appreciation of the French existentialists and folks like Dostoevsky and Kierkegaard. Sartre and Camus et al and their perspectives on the human condition are not to be facilely engaged and then casually dismissed. Tillich was spot on in recognizing that faith was a polar reality with doubt an indispensable element, a state of being ultimately concerned and not, rather, propositionally certain.
Walker said: “I suppose my typical protagonist or hero or anti-hero is a fellow to whom a great deal has happened, who sees all the dark things that we are talking about, who’s more or less dislocated like a Sartrean or a Camus character, but who, nevertheless, despite everything, sees a certain hopefulness, but has a certain resilience and reserve, and a feeling that there is something around the bend, like Huckleberry Finn.”
Now, that Walker quote strikes me as a distinctly axiological take on reality. It interprets and evaluates reality and speaks to the forming of our desires and the nurturance of our hopes. It’s an interpretive-evaluative posit that has neither denied nor ignored the ambiguous and often brutal cosmological evidence. It’s a practical existential response that goes beyond but not without the evidential and rational perspectives.
To some extent, until we move beyond the extrinsic reward and punishment paradigm — driven by the what’s in it for me approach of our early moral and affective development — in order to enjoy the intrinsic rewards of the pursuit of truth, beauty, goodness and unity for their own sakes, an approach associated with a more advanced affective and moral development, our religion has only socialized us and not really transformed us. Transformed folks have stared into the abyss, in one way or another, and not unflinchingly, and have nevertheless said: “Let’s see what’s around the bend!” and then go on loving, creating beauty and searching for truth. The journey becomes their destination. The quest becomes their grail. Our questions and concerns, hopes and desires, unite us more than any metaphysical propositions and theological answers ever will.
January 25, 2010 - 5:44 AM
John,
As to your first post, I say this as someone who a) is inclined to like you, and b) has a greater than average intelligence:
That was largely incomprehensible.
Well, okay, this part was lucid: “In my view, what is necessary to lead a good and moral life is transparent to human reason and we do not need some special divine revelation in order to distinguish good from evil, right from wrong. We especially don’t need religion providing answers to what are essentially scientific questions.”
As for the rest, you can define the respective roles of science, philosophy, culture and religion any way you like, I suppose, but the burden of proof is on you to demonstrate that they actually function this way anywhere but your meta-theory. If you’re going to make up your own definitions, you’re in good company with certain kinds of postmodern thinkers, but I don’t read them, either. Philosophy as a normative methodology? What does that even mean?
As for the second post, a “vague notion of an event” could be used to describe almost any historical claim. Yes, of course: some sort of unique set of circumstances led to the rise of Christianity. But this goes without saying. Every moment is, in some way, contingent upon the precise circumstances that allow it to exist; it’s just that most of them don’t lead to the formation of a world religion.
We’re back to telling the story from the perspective of people who won the lottery. History is written by the victors.
When I say that there is no evidence of ultimate justice, I am not suggesting that we wallow in despair, or abandon hope, or sit around reading Sartre, drinking brandy, and smoking unfiltered cigarettes (not, come to think of it, that that would be such a horrible way to spend an evening, but I digress).
What I am suggesting is that if there is justice to be had, or solace to be sought, it’s not something out there to be discovered, by some kind of magic, but something we are left to create once we finally figure out that no one else is going to do it for us.
Again, this much was lucid: “Our questions and concerns, hopes and desires, unite us more than any metaphysical propositions and theological answers ever will.”
I’m just not in the mood for the long walk around the barn to get there.
January 25, 2010 - 5:54 AM
Yes. As somebody recently said, “If we are the children of a God, it is time we began to act like it.”
January 25, 2010 - 5:56 AM
Exactly.
January 25, 2010 - 12:41 PM
Well, Ira, I appreciate that I may have lapsed in trying to unpack in a blog post an anthropological view that really requires a book or two to better explicate. There is a certain irony in that my neologisms mark an attempt to make certain ideas more accessible (what’s that? what’s that to us? how does one avoid or acquire that? how might we tie all this together?). Normative methodology = how does one avoid or acquire that? using logic, aesthetics & ethics.
This is no attempt at a meta-theory. It’s a simple heuristic device, the articulation of a few conceptual placeholders. It is grounded in Bernard Lonergan’s theological anthropology and Charles Sanders Peirce’s semiotic approach. It is Peirce who defines the normative sciences as logic, aesthetics and ethics. All I’ve done is to translate Peirce’s observation that the normative sciences mediate between phenomenology and metaphysics and then suggested that indeed they do and are, in fact, purpose-driven or value-oriented. It is Lonergan’s protege’ Daniel Helminiak who describes the progressively expanding horizons of human concern, the positivist (science) nested in the philosophic. It is Wim Drees, Zygon editor, who has suggested that theologians might better focus on the axiological and leave the cosmological to others and I heartily agree.
It’s a shared vision captured by Amos Yong and myself, and we do accept the burden of proof & have 30 pages of it tied up in peer review, presently. It is precisely our point that our concepts with their implicit & explicit pragmatic cash values must be negotiated in progressively larger communities of human value-realizers (truth-seekers, beauty-creators, goodness-preservers, unity-lovers).
You suggest that “if there is justice to be had, or solace to be sought, it’s not something out there to be discovered, by some kind of magic, but something we are left to create once we finally figure out that no one else is going to do it for us.”
That’s neither unreasonable nor uncontroversial. For my part, I remain open to the notion that humans might both create as well as discover various aspects of reality that might ground our visions of justice and solace. A theological nonrealism can critique a naive theological realism and urge us to retreat from any facile notions that the reality of God would be comprehensible or that divine action would be determined by necessity. Of course, positive attributes like comprehensibility and necessity can only be applied to a god-concept analogically. Such a nonrealism would go too far, however, in a priori suggesting that the reality of God must be unintelligible or that divine action must be random if God is also like what we might consider to be good. That would amount to a caricature of how predicates are assigned to the God-concept. I know it might appear that folks like Pseudo-Dionysius, Aquinas and Charles Hartshorne are taking us on one too many trips around the theological barn in applying philosophical nuance and qualification of predicates to god-attributes, but it just might go with the enormity of the territory, don’t you imagine?
One could coherently and consistently say that a putative God (or concept) would be incomprehensible but not that it’s unintelligible, even while suggesting that His goodness would be something LIKE human goodness. One could coherently and consistently say that divine action would be probabilistic but not that it would be random, even while suggesting that His goodness would be something LIKE human goodness. How could one apply an analogical predicate like random to God when it is not otherwise physically instantiated in reality? Now THAT would amount to trafficking in total abstractions!
Now, it may be that one might find oneself totally scandalized by the notion of such a God as would seemingly treat human creatures like dogs, feeding them, patting them on the head, worming them, playing with them and occasionally sending them scampering off by kicking them in the gut, while these importunate creatures keep coming back, again and again and again, to their Master for care and affection, sometimes with their tails between their legs and sometimes with their tails wagging. One can dismiss such a God-concept on evaluative grounds and tear the Glad Psalms out of one’s hymnal, singing only the Mad Psalms and plaintively lamenting the Sad. But to dismiss a highly nuanced God-concept on epistemic grounds as unintelligible and to describe its putative divine action as necessarily random does not withstand philosophical rigor or theological scrutiny.
I appreciate your candor regarding your mood because it likely reflects the impression I may leave on others from time to time and it helps me to make adjustments. I’m glad you discover a lucid thought of mine here and there. I’m sorry that they seem to be spaced so far apart or hidden in dense prose. I’m not here to acquit the Most High and I am not a professional apologist. But I am here on Thom’s invitation and thought it might be best to disambiguate the concept of this God he’s invited us to defend. And the way I have interpreted Thom’s challenge is in the spirit of Emerson, who said that God will arrive as soon as the half-gods depart. I think Thom is helping folks dismiss their straw-gods that they might worship the God Almighty. And I’m not picking a nit in suggesting a distinction between incomprehensibility and unintelligiblity, or between random and probabilistic. Those are distinctions that do make a difference and they are cashed out in the manner in which we choose to live lives of vibrant faith, vital hope and earnest love of self, other, earth and God.
January 25, 2010 - 12:56 PM
“Such a nonrealism would go too far, however, in a priori suggesting that the reality of God must be unintelligible or that divine action must be random if God is also like what we might consider to be good.”
I don’t think that’s what Thom was saying. It’s not something I’m saying, at any rate. I’m not saying the reality of God must be unintelligible. The reality of God could be any damn thing, or no damn thing at all. I haven’t the foggiest idea how I or anyone else would know.
Here’s me in a nutshell: we can cook up “putative God-concepts” all day long, we can make them as coherent or as incoherent as we want. We can make them jump through hoops or we can put them on trial. We can dress them up in bonnets and carry them around in a baby stroller.
And the universe we actually inhabit hums along on its largely inscrutable way utterly unaffected.
To the extent that philosophy can help us understand what we think, or how we think, or offer us categories and tools with which to think, rock on. Go philosophers!
As soon as philosophy gets uppity and starts holding court on what’s beyond, however, I start making coughing noises in my hand that sound a lot like “bullshit.”
January 25, 2010 - 2:39 PM
Ira, in my view, a philosophical goal to which we might reasonably aspire is to frame up our questions regarding our ultimate concerns in a manner that is congruent with reality (doesn’t contradict established scientific theory), logically consistent (employing concepts and arguments that reflect good critical thinking) and internally coherent (don’t have us working at cross-purposes with our own approaches to reality).
If a ball comes flying over our fence into our yard and breaks a sliding glass door, it is not unreasonable to inquire of its origins. While we may never be able to ascertain its unknown cause, we may, from the nature of its effects, determine whether or not they are consistent with any other known causes, like kids playing ball, like lawn mowers hurling trajectories, like pitching machines in batting cages, like homemade potato guns and so on. And we may reasonably rule out any of the above possibilities by inference based on such properties as the nature of the damage inflicted on the door, the condition of the ball, the ball’s putative trajectory & velocity & acceleration as well as its mass & material composition. All such inferences will actually increase our descriptive accuracy of the cause even if only through negation, apophatically ruling out all known probable causes by saying it couldn’t be this or that or anything like them, either. And we may increase our descriptive accuracy of the origin of the projectile through kataphatic affirmation by analogically describing what the cause must have been like, asserting far more dissimilarities than similarities.
This globe we live on is hurtling through a space-time, mass-energy plenum leaving us perplexed and often frightened out of our minds. Our inquiry into its origins leaves us speculating, not idly, regarding its putative cause. And it is the most natural thing in the world for humankind to inquire after same. And I think we at least want to get our questions right and to avoid category errors as we continue our quest. We would not be having this conversation if we did not presuppose that some approaches to the problem are better than others, some more helpful, others downright hurtful. Some approaches deserve to be placed in baby strollers without bonnets and brought to a nearby hilltop and let go in a Monty Python skit. Others have the makings of a fairly good grail quest.
Here’s the rub. How can one say that our approaches to this inscrutable reality leave the universe utterly unaffected? Such an assertion is, itself, a ghastly apparition playing out on a screen of fancy in a shadowy Cartesian theater where humans are alienated from reality, truly getting uppity and holding court on what is a priori knowable or unknowable, phenomenal or noumenal, real or fancied. If nothing else, we do manifestly change the universe, even if only locally, even if only in the manner we choose to relate to our planet and one another, determining whether or not we go out with an ecological whimper or a nuclear holocaust.
I am precisely suggesting that philosophy rocks in just the manner in which you describe. But I dissent from any notion that it cannot hold court on what’s beyond. Some notions of what’s beyond are incongruent with science, inconsistent with logic, incoherent with our shared norms and unacceptable vis a vis the moral and practical courses of action they inspire, on which humans then embark. Good philosophy holds court on things beyond and, although it has not yet, at this point of humankind’s journey, rendered a proved verdict for any given worldview, it has competently and within its jurisdiction adjudicated both disproved and unproved (Scottish) verdicts. While there is no room for epistemic hubris, we need not surrender to an excessive epistemic humility or radical apophaticism.
I understand and appreciate, then, that a nuanced agnosticism, nontheism or even nonmilitant atheism might have the same epistemic status as my own nuanced theism. Good philosophy helps us adjudicate an unproved verdict, which is not unimportant over against competing worldviews, including fundamentalistic theisms, scientistic atheisms and unmitigated practical nihilisms, which can be disproved. These competing worldviews all exert an incredible amount of normative impetus affecting the moral and practical approaches of the people who hold them, suggesting descriptions of what might ail them and insidious prescriptions for what might cure those ails. I don’t just make coughing noises regarding their bullshit. I enter the courtroom and argue my case, suggesting interdiction of these very real dangers.
In teasing out these nuances and expanding these metaphors, I have no intent to mischaracterize or caricaturize your counterarguments. I am trying to establish the common ground that I strongly sense we share.
January 25, 2010 - 3:07 PM
Not that you’re not invited, John, and you’re always welcome. But I don’t remember inviting you, unless you mean that in some nonliteral sense, or unless my memory is failing.
If you honestly think that philosophy can speak about the beyond, then you need to understand that you do not have the common ground with Ira (or myself) you suppose, because we are thoroughly Wittgensteinian, at least in that respect.
Epistemic hubris or no, I find it astounding that you’re still able to assert (even without display) that philosophy “holds court on things beyond,” and more astounding still that you seem to expect philosophy to have something definitive to say on the matter in the future.
You beat down a sad looking straw man when you come back against Ira’s statement that the universe goes on unaffected with a homily on global warming and nuclear holocaust. That is not what Ira meant, and I think you know that. Ira meant that whatever constitutes the universe, determines its laws (i.e., the fact that what we do with machinery can damage our world and potentially affect gravitational forces in our solar system) is unchanged by our conjectures as to ultimate causality or our speculations about the meaning of it all.
I am also astounded that you continue to carry the Thomistic party line about the naturalness of causal questions with regard to the universe as a whole. Philosophy and science both converge here to tell us that the question of the origin of space and time is a confused question, precisely because we cannot know what “rules” govern “nothing.”
As for your penultimate comment, I find your protestations against alleged simplistic applications of “good” to God in the name of analogia entis quite unpersuasive. If God kills babies, that isn’t good to the nth degree. That defies any sense of good that anybody would ordinarily affirm. If the God of the Bible is good, then we have no way to know what “good” means, and it ceases to be a useful category for philosophical and ethical reflection. If, on the other hand, we do know what good means, then the actions of the biblical God do not transcend good; they contradict it. The same is true, mutatis mutandis, of any putative almighty, beneficent creator of this particular world.
Mystifying otherwise plain terms through this principle of divine analogy is in my mind a process that conveniently benefits theism, and not a process that is rationally justifiable prior to or outside of those very definitions of the divine that require such mystification in order to be sustained.
And nobody applied random to God. Random was applied to the world, and it is a critique of the claim that there is a moral order to this universe. Random is the description of the world given by the author of Ecclesiastes. It is not an attribute ascribed to God, but an attribute ascribed to the world that has implications for any putative god concept.
January 25, 2010 - 4:00 PM
Thom…sorry, not that deep…but a big fan of Seth Godin and when these two posts popped up I thought of this conversation. Still praying with Job and the rabbis…and I guess now with Brecht and Aquinas…what a prayer team
.
http://www.typepad.com/services/trackback/6a00d83451b31569e2012876c4ceb0970c
http://www.typepad.com/services/trackback/6a00d83451b31569e2012876c32a7b970c
January 25, 2010 - 4:32 PM
RE: But I don’t remember inviting you, unless you mean that in some nonliteral sense, or unless my memory is failing. +++
Right. I was referring to your open invitation to armchair theologians, etc. I wouldn’t want to mislead anyone into thinking you tapped me on the shoulder.
RE: If you honestly think that philosophy can speak about the beyond, then you need to understand that you do not have the common ground with Ira (or myself) you suppose, because we are thoroughly Wittgensteinian, at least in that respect. +++
I affirm a fallibilist, metaphysical realism and a semiotic pragmatism. I’m with Wittgenstein’s student, Anscombe, when it comes to such arguments as have been advanced, for example, by CS Lewis, on occasion. But I do not buy into a Kierkegaardian fideism, which seems to me to be an over-correction to an Hegelian scientism. Neither do I buy into a Kantian transcendentalism, which should have confronted the Humean critique practically. I see much value in what Wm. James and and Pascal had to say, but correct them with Peirce.
RE: Epistemic hubris or no, I find it astounding that you’re still able to assert (even without display) that philosophy “holds court on things beyond,” and more astounding still that you seem to expect philosophy to have something definitive to say on the matter in the future. +++
I’m with GK Chesterton in that it is too early on humankind’s journey to say that reality is unknowable. Our knowledge advance is slow but inexorable. I made clear that nothing is being proved. My findings were epistemological critiques of scientism, fideism and nihilism, also essentialism and nominalism.
RE: You beat down a sad looking straw man when you come back against Ira’s statement that the universe goes on unaffected with a homily on global warming and nuclear holocaust. That is not what Ira meant, and I think you know that. Ira meant that whatever constitutes the universe, determines its laws (i.e., the fact that what we do with machinery can damage our world and potentially affect gravitational forces in our solar system) is unchanged by our conjectures as to ultimate causality or our speculations about the meaning of it all. +++
Thanks for the clarification. I guess I was working on the assumption that his rhetorical flourish was something other than a trivial grasp of the obvious. Our ongoing attempts to enhance our modeling power of reality do matter greatly. My point is that some models work better.
RE: I am also astounded that you continue to carry the Thomistic party line about the naturalness of causal questions with regard to the universe as a whole. Philosophy and science both converge here to tell us that the question of the origin of space and time is a confused question, precisely because we cannot know what “rules” govern “nothing.” +++
Wrong. I am not taking existence as a predicate of being, here. I do not even buy into an a priori assertion that the universe is eternal vs a product of creatio ex nihilo. Who knows? It was Wittgenstein who said that it is not HOW things are but THAT things are which is the mystical. That sounds a lot like Heidegger’s query: Why is there not rather nothing? Sounds to me like the Thomists, Wittgenstein, Heidegger et al might be reifying this conception called “nothing” and I have no a priori reason to know whether or not it successfully refers.
One might, instead, more profitably invoke Godel and our inability to prove a system’s axioms within the same formal system. Alas, that is not satisfying either because we humans do not advance our knowledge solely through formal symbol systems. Sometimes we can see the truth of our axioms even though we cannot prove them, which is to admit, for example, that one needn’t work halfway through the Principia with Whitehead and Russell in order to see the truth in the axioms used to prove 2 + 2 =4.
A better question might be: Why is there not rather something else? At any rate, I think someone else is confused if they equate quantum vacuum fluctuations with nothing.
RE: As for your penultimate comment, I find your protestations against alleged simplistic applications of “good” to God in the name of analogia entis quite unpersuasive. If God kills babies, that isn’t good to the nth degree. That defies any sense of good that anybody would ordinarily affirm. If the God of the Bible is good, then we have no way to know what “good” means, and it ceases to be a useful category for philosophical and ethical reflection. If, on the other hand, we do know what good means, then the actions of the biblical God do not transcend good; they contradict it. The same is true, mutatis mutandis, of any putative almighty, beneficent creator of this particular world. +++
What’s with all of these Thomistic references? You seem to have me in a cage that I do not choose to inhabit. I do not even buy into the dualistic distinctions between essentialism and nominalism, substance and process approaches, the noumenal and phenomenal and such. I prescind to a more phenomenologial stance with a semiotic realism. Our conceptions have value insofar as we can cash same out pragmatically (as a test of truth, not a theory of truth). Whatever our conception of good is vis a vis the predicates and attributes we want to apply, that conception and those predicates don’t lose intelligibility just because they get employed in a metaphor. Perhaps we might concede that some metaphors invoke analogies that are so very weak as to provide us very little information about the concept we are trying to describe? That is certainly true. However, when we are talking about a reality as BIG as God, a little bit of info goes a long way.
RE: Mystifying otherwise plain terms through this principle of divine analogy is in my mind a process that conveniently benefits theism, and not a process that is rationally justifiable prior to or outside of those very definitions of the divine that require such mystification in order to be sustained. +++
Look, we know that, in our attempts to enhance our modeling power of reality, we will all inhabit somewhat elaborate tautologies. But just because a statement is tautological doesn’t mean it is not otherwise true. It only means that we have not added any new info to our systems. But some tautologies are more taut than others and some metaphors are more resilient than others, even if all eventually collapse due to circular references, causal disjunctions, question begging or infinite regressions.
RE: And nobody applied random to God. Random was applied to the world, and it is a critique of the claim that there is a moral order to this universe. Random is the description of the world given by the author of Ecclesiastes. It is not an attribute ascribed to God, but an attribute ascribed to the world that has implications for any putative god concept. +++
The problem perdures. No such implications can play themselves out because a more fundamental problem remains, which is that random does not successfully refer to the world.
January 25, 2010 - 5:14 PM
“…a trivial grasp of the obvious…”
What’s even more embarrassing is how long it took me to arrive at it.
January 25, 2010 - 6:54 PM
Ira, beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. Look how much time it takes me to segue from the lucid into the incomprehensible.
January 25, 2010 - 7:01 PM
“I guess I was working on the assumption that his rhetorical flourish was something other than a trivial grasp of the obvious.”
Right. So because you gave him the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t stating the obvious, you decided he must have been negating cause and effect.
“Our ongoing attempts to enhance our modeling power of reality do matter greatly. My point is that some models work better.”
And our point is that one model’s “working better” than another doesn’t make it really real. Nobody here is claiming that all metaphysical claims are equally fantastic. Just that they’re all basically fantastic.
January 25, 2010 - 7:10 PM
RE: analogia
My invocation of analogy does not imply an analogy of being. I do not have a problem with same, however, as long as it is considered a fallible metaphysic.
I have a BIG problem when a highly speculative metaphysic is given an inordinate amount of normative impetus. Our de-ontologies should be considered as tentative as our ontologies are speculative. Put more simply, there are certain moral positions that end up being essentially religious because they have not been successfully translated in a way that would enable the diverse members of our pluralistic society to reason together.
I do not subscribe to any given metaphysic even as I affirm the enterprise as a viable but fallibilist venture. One doesn’t need a root metaphor or ontology to speak analogically and use metaphors. We can begin in media res with signs and symbols and concepts that have already been negotiated by a given community of inquiry and then have meaningful discussions about such matters, for example, as unknown causes and such effects as might be proper to them alone. We do this all the time in forensic criminal science and in highly speculative theoretical physics. Our analogies get progressively weaker as we begin to employ more and more concepts that have not been negotiated in this or that community, such as those that might still be in negotiation or even those that have not been negotiated at all.
Once we get past the Barthian hyperbole, even the analogia entis can get properly reappropriated:
Who’s Afraid of the Analogia Entis?
Analogia Entis Revisited
As Seinfeld once said: I’m not a Thomist – not that there’s anything wrong with that.
January 25, 2010 - 7:49 PM
RE: So because you gave him the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t stating the obvious, you decided he must have been negating cause and effect.
That’s a question, right? Really, it threw me. I didn’t realize my response was not apposite until after I posted it and you raised the point. Sorry ’bout that. In fact, it was only once I had revisited it that I decided to be a smartass.
January 25, 2010 - 7:55 PM
Brilliant.
Digression concluded.
January 25, 2010 - 8:41 PM
Jonathan,
I’m not getting anything from those typepad links. Do you have working ones?
You have interesting prayer partners. Except it’s not Brecht, it’s Beckett.
January 25, 2010 - 8:41 PM
RE: And our point is that one model’s “working better” than another doesn’t make it really real. Nobody here is claiming that all metaphysical claims are equally fantastic. Just that they’re all basically fantastic.
The pomo critique, properly considered per my view, did not dispossess us of our theory of truth, which remains a nuanced correspondence. It properly changed our theories of knowledge from a naive realism to different types of critical realism (some nonfoundational, others a weakened foundationalism).
There are a host of criteria we can apply to working hypotheses like external congruence, internal coherence, logical consistency, inferential fecundity, interdisciplinary consilience, hypothetical consonance, symmetry, parsimony, elegance, abductive facility, pragmatic utility and on and on. Each such criterion, applied alone, amounts to a formal fallacy like the one you implicitly charged me with re: what works.
But it would amount to a caricature of human knowledge to suggest that only the stronger forms of inference, like deduction and induction, leads us to what we call knowledge, as if we only advance same in formal, truth conducive argumentation. Rather, reasoning our way retro-ductively back from such predicates as usefulness, elegance, parsimony and so on, most human knowledge advances fallibly as we reason our way informally, employing truth-indicative criteria. Not everything that is useful is true, indeed; that would be an insidious pragmatism. But we can say that what is useful, what works, has a higher probability of being true or real.
And thus theologians have coined the aphorism that orthopraxis authenticates orthodoxy. And so we establish criteria for cashing out the value of our various theological conceptions in terms of their ability to foster (rather than stifle), for example, intellectual, affective, moral, social and religious development.
I do not want to defend a position that suggests that metaphysical claims are not fantastic, which is likely why I don’t subscribe to any given ontology. But I do defend the project. We do not know, a priori, when it is that our knowledge advances will be thwarted by methodological constraints, epistemically, or will be otherwise halted by some in-principle occulting, ontologically. But we generally eschew the latter assumption because it inevitably leads us down an epistemic cul-de-sac and assume the former, because it fuels our search in hope. The chief problem with any anxiety to annihilate metaphysics, though, is that we do away with speculative theoretical science along with it.
All philosophical theology has ever done is to clarify the nature of our questions and to demonstrate that some of our putative answers are not unreasonable even if not provable. So, there is no denying the series of leaps we take, for example, over against solipsism and nihilism and the humean critique of our common sense notions of causality, and for some, also the leap called faith.
But we need to examine the nature of these leaps and I find that those that go beyond descriptive science and normative philosophy but not without them will much better foster human development. And we can measure same, not without difficulty, empirically. In which civilizations did science eventually flourish and where was it stillborn? Which cultural cohorts are turning out radical fundamentalists, militarism, moral statism and creationism?
Reality is no longer carved into discernible ontological joints or disciplines, but human knowledge still relies on different orders of abstraction and we need to govern this process, best we can. Getting radically apophatic and mysterian is self-defeating and not defensible, a priori. I will say this, that for all practical purposes, the deeper we get into the structures of matter and the closer we get to the earliest moments after the Big Bang, the more intractable are our problems. And I further acknowledge that, from what we observe in emergent processes, there is even novelty in the laws governing properties; ergo, there is a danger in extrapolating such laws as might, for all practical purposes, be as local, cosmologically, as the by-laws of our neighborhood Bridge Clubs. This might compel us to focus our analogia also on Christocentric realities and what Jesus reveals about God’s nature, in particular, and not just on the metaphors that He employed in His parables and discourses employing Mother Nature, in general.
January 25, 2010 - 8:48 PM
Thom, sorry about the bad links….these should be good.
http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2010/01/too-much-data-leads-to-not-enough-belief.html
http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2010/01/no-everything-is-not-going-to-be-okay.html
And I can’t believe I put Brecht instead of Beckett…I even was Ponzo in Waiting for Godot in undergrad…man, I’m getting old
.
January 25, 2010 - 8:52 PM
Jonathan,
Ha! No worries. And thanks for the links.
John,
I think Hauerwas and Milbank have both articulated something similar, albeit more concisely, which isn’t necessarily a good thing. I often read Milbank and find myself thinking, “I wish he would unpack that further.”
January 25, 2010 - 9:34 PM
Thom, I’m very sympathetic to radical orthodoxy and some of my ideas, originating w/Lonergan, very much resonate with Hauerwas, Milbank, even Lindbeck. BUT, aside from some very general observations, sociologic metrics that would help us figure out which ecclesiologies have been delivering the goods are difficult to come by and hard to interpret. All of the great traditions have turned out mixed results, each with its own set of problems. And if “we” (the anglo and roman catholics) truly believe in a radically incarnational reality with a profusely pneumatological presence, then we must recognize and affirm the efficacies of the Spirit in all peoples and places, wherever the fruits are manifest, including nontheistic sources. Sanity and sanctity appear to run horizontally across the denominations and traditions rather than within this one or that. I would thus mightily resist any new triumphalism, colonialism, paternalism, hierarchicalism, ecclesiocentrisms, elitism and so on. So, we don’t want to trade one fundamentalism for another. That’s my fear.
In my tradition, much emphasis is laid on the fact that we do not want to fall prey to an insidious indifferentism (one approach versus another doesn’t matter), a facile syncretism (one can just wily nilly pick and choose and combine different elements eclectically) or a false irenicism (seeing a peace between traditions and denominations that is not really there). And so, gladly and willingly stipulating to an eschewal of any indifferentism, syncretism or irenicism, STILL, vis a vis the sociologic metrics of what should be the fruits of the spirit of this denomination or tradition versus that, I would ask: SHOW ME THE &*^%ING BEEF!
And I’m afraid the problem is that it might be WAY too early on humankind’s journey to be able to successfully adjudicate such differences between traditions and denominations. So, in my view, we need to chill and dialogue.
January 25, 2010 - 9:43 PM
I need to attend to other of life’s exigencies and so need to cut out for while. I’m easy to find though. Thanks for a great dialogue, friends all.
January 25, 2010 - 9:45 PM
It has been a metaphysical experience.
January 25, 2010 - 10:06 PM
Jonathan,
I read Seth’s blog posts. Some data do matter to faith. But the issue here isn’t really data. It’s suffering, and Christian attempts to defend God’s righteousness in the face of it.
But data in and of themselves do not drown out faith. Data could potentially reinforce faith. It just depends on what the data are, and what they are saying.
Orthodox Protestants tend to encourage studying the Bible in context (i.e. looking for the right data) in order to ascertain faithful readings of the text, that is, until faithful readings of the text begin to undermine orthodox dogma. Then it is said that data drowns out faith.
January 26, 2010 - 9:27 AM
Good observations, yet I believe in the case of theodicy suffering has taken a “data-like” stance all of the sudden. Suffering is the “data” that constitutes the questions/charges/whatevers. Theodicy (to me) is collection of that data to make a case/charge before God or before the followers of said god. Yet, having experienced a certain level of that suffering (not necessarily to the extreme the Haitian people are experiencing) I have realized that “data-izing” of suffering is the cause of being overwhelmed. If I allow the suffering to just be…to allow the things seen in Shanghai, Calcutta, Haiti, the Congo, the Sudan, Rwanda, in inner-city and suburbia America to just be a horrible, sad, and tragic experience…then I find on the other side not despair because of questions without answers but compassion and motivation precisely because I have no answers…God is certainly not going to give them over (even the writers of Torah knew this – Deut. 29:29).
Now, again this is just my experience. Yet, I believe when we use the suffering experience as data/evidence of an unintelligible/evil/apathetic God or deity…then there can only be void, abyss of questions that will drag one down to despair or at best cynical realism.
No matter what one believes about God, how one uses the experience is perhaps more of the question. Perhaps this is why enjoy being a Lutheran – even though most days I disagree with almost all of my colleagues. Paradoxes. To be able to see all the horrors the world can throw at me…to sob, to weep, to mourn alongside them. Yet, in the end I don’t need to take that experience as a sword, as a ruler to my deity…because He has already told me He isn’t handing out free samples on His reasonings. Perhaps naive on my part, or just plain stupid following. However, in the end it is the best case for my faith all around. Questions can be asked, experiences can be had, compassion can be sought…but nowhere in the equation is an expectation that God will somehow be logical or give out answers to those questions. As my sister-in-law once told me, “expectations are just little downpayments on future disappointments.”
Again, I say this only in my individual case…as for four years I told God to fuck off for the very reasons you, Thom, sight in your original post, as well as two years during my schooling where I was like, “Who in the hell is this God that I’m believing in?”
In the end, though, it has to be an individual’s journey to understand or not understand what place suffering and evil have in this world…because it is reality and reality can never be just explained away.
I think this time I’ll stop praying with everyone…and go into a closet and perhaps just suck my thumb for awhile. Peace.
January 26, 2010 - 10:17 AM
I hear you, Jonathan. And with you I do think we need to find ways to suffer alongside those who suffer, to look for hope. But hidden in your response here are some of the very theodicies I find so inadequate. “He has already told me He isn’t handing out free samples on His reasonings.” This is the convenient mystery I referred to. These data cannot be reconciled with our clearest affirmations of who God is, and so we create this idea of a mysterious God who is beyond our comprehension. It basically amounts to the willing suspension of disbelief, which as we moviegoers know is requisite for being able to enjoy a good piece of fiction—for allowing ourselves to enter into a world we otherwise know doesn’t reflect reality, just for the sake of the escape.
It’s interesting. You say that “when we use the suffering experience as data/evidence of an unintelligible/evil/apathetic God or deity . . . then there can only be void, abyss of questions that will drag one down to despair or at best cynical realism.” Why do you think that is, Jonathan? Why is it that real human experiences of suffering can only bring about this result when we take them before our God concepts? Precisely because every attempt to reconcile these experiences with our beliefs about this God result in contradiction and senselessness.
This fact itself is a biblical truth. The Bible is not a single voice, as anybody trained as you have been in biblical studies ought to know. It is a big argument, an argument between different people with different ideas about how to wrestle with God in the world. It is an ongoing argument that has been drawn together into a single canon, giving the illusion of a single voice when it isn’t there. You should be aware that the Bible posits all sorts of different ideas attempting to explain the data of suffering, attempting to reconcile it with God. Of course, throughout most of biblical history, they did not have anything like the God concepts largely in place today. Throughout most of biblical history, Yahweh was not omnipotent, Yahweh was not the only god around, Yahweh was not all-loving, Yahweh was not a universal god. And so on. One of the main questions the Bible asks in the face of suffering is not, Why do people suffer? but, Why does Israel suffer? And Israelites had to develop several different answers to this question, because one by one, each attempted answer failed to comport with the data of suffering. The prophets’ idea that Israel suffered because God was punishing Israel had to eventually give way to the idea that Israel suffered because they were caught up in a cosmic battle between the divine forces of chaos/evil and Yahweh’s entourage. Apocalypticism developed because the prophets turned out to be wrong. Israel’s faithfulness did not result in their national restoration. God’s “punishment” did not relent when they said it would. So a new explanation for the “data” had to come about.
Meanwhile, the author of Job says that righteous people suffer and innocent people die because of celestial wagers. Job uses the data of suffering as a measuring stick against God, and God doesn’t give an answer. That is not a good thing. The book of Job is not kind to God. We tend to read it in a more flattering light for God. But it doesn’t flatter him. It depicts him as a tyrant who can do anything he wants, notions of what is just and right be damned.
Ecclesiastes (the original version) curses the traditional theodicies. It’s nice to say that suffering happens because God is applying it justly, but the reality of human experience just doesn’t measure up to such fanciful notions. In reality, suffering is random—unjust. The righteous die young and the wicked live long and prosper. Eventually, some pious Jew thought Ecclesiastes was a bit too “cynical,” so they tacked on a more positive ending: “Fear God and keep his commandments.”
The question is, Jonathan, which God should we fear? Which God should we refuse to judge? Which God should we not hold up our data against as a measuring stick, as a sword? Are we defending a God who is the son of Elyon, a second-tier member of the Canaanite divine pantheon, who received Israel as his inheritance from his father? Are we defending the God who kills babies for the sins of their parents? Are we defending the God who orders the slaughter of pregnant women? Are we defending the God who punishes his own beloved people by forcing them to eat their young? If we’re not defending that God, but rejecting it in the name of some other God, on what grounds are we basing our faith in that God? Is it Luther’s God? Calvin’s? The God of the Anabaptists? Or is it the God of Origen? Maybe it’s the God of Kierkegaard? Which God are we not accusing? Because, as you know, once we pick a God not to accuse, that commits us to an accusatory stance toward all other versions of God. So it’s not really that you don’t accuse God. It’s just that I accuse one more God than you do.
I’m not denying that believers are able to trust that their God is benevolent and has some sort of plan that will redeem a long, senseless history of random human suffering. I’m just saying that there isn’t sufficient reason to believe in such a God. And given what you and I both know about the history of theological debate and development, not just within church history but within the biblical canon itself, I think asking for evidence that a particular conception of God should be considered more valid in the face of the data of human suffering is a legitimate request. We’ve already rejected so many Gods. We’ve set a precedent for that for as long as we have worshiped Gods. That to me means there should be good grounds why we accept this particular, latest manifestation of God over against all the other ones we’ve been trained to reject. That’s why I think someone could legitimately become an atheist out of zeal for God. Not that I’m an atheist. I just don’t accept “God’s ways are not our ways” as a legitimate answer and neither should you. If God’s ways are not our ways, what does that say about our claim that our ways were given to us by God?
January 26, 2010 - 2:00 PM
RE: someone could legitimately become an atheist out of zeal for God
right on, pecan
Just back from appointments. That was a great read, Thom.
January 26, 2010 - 4:08 PM
Thom, if I get accepted into Duke, I am so having coffee with you and (with your permission) give you a big bear hug. I’ll ponder your response, and get back to you…promise
. I had a good long thumb sucking in the closet…I think now I’m going to meditate with Kierkegaard and laugh at those “actor” priests.
January 26, 2010 - 7:18 PM
RE: I’m not denying that believers are able to trust that their God is benevolent and has some sort of plan that will redeem a long, senseless history of random human suffering. I’m just saying that there isn’t sufficient reason to believe in such a God.
When you speak of reason, here, are you including both epistemic/theoretic and prudential/practical reason?
And in what sense do you mean believe? In my tradition we pretty much mean an unconditional assent that does not depend on inference, or we mean an acceptance disposing one to trust, or even willfully accepting and acting in a way to inculcate trust, all implying that there is no seeing of the complete truth of the matter. I would suppose this also implies that there is going to be more than one interpretation of a reality that is possible, plausible (maybe even variously probable?) but manifestly not demonstrable or provable.
In some sense, then, the very definition of belief vis a vis the faith life will preclude, in principle, epistemic reasons in that we are dealing with an unconditional assent?
And to the extent such belief will involve our unconditional assent, hence willfully accepting and acting in a way that might further inculcate trust, then it would seem that a suitably nuanced pragmatic appeal might at least provide us some prudential reasons to go on and accept one interpretation rather than another and then act on it. I’m thinking a nuanced Pascal & James here.
January 26, 2010 - 7:30 PM
Pragmatic displays may provide sufficient reason to choose one interpretation over another, but never can they provide sufficient reason to choose one interpretation over all others. Neo-Anabaptist Christianity, Buddhist Atheism, Marxist Humanism, etc. etc., all are capable of offering a pragmatic account displaying the functionality of their truth claims. It’s a moot point.
And obviously I’m not saying somebody has to be able to prove, empirically, God’s existence before belief in God could be considered rational. I’m saying that any account of God that posits God as a benevolent creator needs to provide a coherent explanation for the state of the world we inhabit, and none of the theodicies or even the Hartian anti-theodicies I’ve encountered are able to provide sufficient reason. They all break down at some point. That coupled with the fact of the evolution of God concepts throughout history provides good reason to think that “God” is only ever the best thing humans can conceive of in a given context. That is not sufficient reason to assent to the latest ontology. Obviously, religious faith is faith despite the evidence. I’m only trying to make that clear.
January 26, 2010 - 7:32 PM
Jonathan, I look forward to whatever it is you would like to do to me physically.
January 26, 2010 - 8:07 PM
He whom I bow to only knows to whom I bow
When I attempt the ineffable Name, murmuring Thou,
And dream of Pheidian fancies and embrace in heart
Symbols (I know) which cannot be the thing Thou art.
Thus always, taken at their word, all prayers blaspheme
Worshipping with frail images a folk-lore dream,
And all men in their praying, self-deceived, address
The coinage of their own unquiet thoughts, unless
Thou in magnetic mercy to Thyself divert
Our arrows, aimed unskilfully, beyond desert;
And all men are idolators, crying unheard
To a deaf idol, if Thou take them at their word.
Take not, O Lord, our literal sense. Lord, in thy great
Unbroken speech our limping metaphor translate.
–Footnote to All Prayers by CS Lewis–
January 26, 2010 - 9:02 PM
RE: Pragmatic displays may provide sufficient reason to choose one interpretation over another, but never can they provide sufficient reason to choose one interpretation over all others. Neo-Anabaptist Christianity, Buddhist Atheism, Marxist Humanism, etc. etc., all are capable of offering a pragmatic account displaying the functionality of their truth claims. It’s a moot point.
This would take some unpacking for me to grasp, much less accept. In my view, in theory, I could conceive of a host of criteria that might be indicators of the relative practical efficacies and inefficacies of different interpretive stances toward reality, in general, and a vague god-concept, in particular. I addressed them in prior posts. The present constraints would seem to be methodological vis a vis properly gauging various sociologic metrics. Our provisional closures regarding same may not be universally compelling, but this approach does not seem to me to be unreasonable or unhelpful. The truth claims in question are not only a/theological but also often cosmological and anthropological, and the latter are accessible to scientific and philosophic critique.
January 26, 2010 - 9:20 PM
RE: That coupled with the fact of the evolution of God concepts throughout history provides good reason to think that “God” is only ever the best thing humans can conceive of in a given context. That is not sufficient reason to assent to the latest ontology.
It’s a reason to consider our “closures” provisional and our conceptions fallible. It’s not a reason to get radically apophatic, radically deconstructive or nonrealist. Your argument dissolves in parody if you substitute Science in the place of God.
January 26, 2010 - 9:20 PM
Scott,
Those are great words. I wonder why Jack didn’t realize they undermine his commitment to such a particular folk-lore dream as Anglicanism.
January 26, 2010 - 9:21 PM
John,
If you can’t see that pragmatic displays are viscously circular, I don’t know what to tell you. Yes this or that can be critiqued by science and philosophy, in any and every tradition. That only proves my point. But just because aspects of these claims can be critiqued by outside disciplines doesn’t make it necessary for believers to accept such etic evaluations, as Wittgenstein shows in On Frazer’s Golden Bough quite easily. These claims are autonomous. How can the human sciences prove or disprove original sin? Yet that’s an anthropological claim. The only thing philosophy can test for is coherency. Coherent cosmologies (not in your sense) are a dime a dozen, as any patient anthropologist understands. Yet their development can be traced and explained just as coherently in etic terms. Can critiques be made from one to another? Sure. From any and every direction.
We are advanced not an inch by acknowledging this.
January 26, 2010 - 9:43 PM
“You argument dissolves in parody if you substitute Science in the place of God.”
Oh really? Display that for me. Also, display how that’s what I’m doing, because that would interest me.
But you’re mistaken. It is very good reason to get “radically apophatic, radically deconstructive or nonrealist.” (Just put “radically” before anything you want to malign and they’ll nod enthusiastically in agreement.)
When children experience new things and don’t yet have the language or categories to account for those experiences, they often come up with explanations within their limited prior experience, explanations which they later discover to be wrong. This is a commonplace.
My daughter is convinced that she’s a princess. Don’t ask me why. Neither Erica nor I have encouraged this. Nevertheless, she is so convinced. Right now, she believes she is a princess because she wears dresses that to her look like the dresses princesses wear on TV. Now imagine if as she grew up, she remained convinced of this. As new information kept coming her way about what a princess is, she revises her understanding of herself, but never admits that she is not a princess. By the time she is thirty, she is a princess who does not have royal blood, is not particularly special, is not wealthy, does not have servants, does not live in a palace, is not married to a prince, is not in line to become queen, has no political power, etc. etc. Yet, she is still a princess. Why? Only because she was so faithful to her childhood understanding of herself, based on an early category mistake, due to lack of information.
She is only able to hold onto the belief that she is a princess if she grants a hundred caveats. Would she then be justified in maintaining that she is a princess? No. Of course not. “Princess” has now died the death of a hundred qualifications.
In the same way, the fact of the evolution of god concepts over millennia shows how early explanations for human experience had to be revised, over and over again, in light of new information. The early, childlike explanations kept failing to comport with a constant influx of new data, and yet, rather than scrapping the basic framework of the initial childlike explanation (big men and women in the sky who are just like us except more powerful and who control our destinies), the explanation is just revised over and over and over again until it is unrecognizable and ultimately incoherent (read my initial post) and superfluous.
This doesn’t disprove the existence of God (or for that matter a whole array of regional divine pantheons), but it does make it reasonable to end up, like Ira, a “radical” theological nonrealist. If my daughter were 30 years old and still thought she was a princess, I would try to get her some sort of psychiatric or medical help. Why would she hold on to such a belief, in the face of such exhaustive evidence against it? I suppose it must be very important to her, for one or more reasons. Maybe such a belief is harmless enough. Maybe it is useful. Maybe such a belief leads her to pursue justice in real ways, because upholding justice is the duty of royalty. I suppose that would be a relatively good thing. But that doesn’t make her belief ontologically valid, despite her best appeals to a grammar of assent and pragmatic display.
January 26, 2010 - 10:03 PM
Ira’s Corollary to Godwin’s Law:
In a theological discussion on the internet, it’s only a matter of time before somebody quotes C.S. Lewis.
January 26, 2010 - 10:20 PM
Lemme back up. I am very interested in delving more deeply into Wittgenstein’s thought. I very much buy into the autonomy of different human enterprises, as I’ve set forth at length in this thread (science vs philosophy vs meta-interpretive stances). But I otherwise integrally relate them, axiologically. From what I have seen re: Wittgenstein’s thoughts, there does seem to be some controversy re: who has faithfully engaged them and who may have misinterpreted and misappropriated them. For example, what would you say re: so-called Wittgensteinian Fideism? Is that a faithful rendering of his thought or a caricature? Language games, including the religious variety, in my view, are most definitely subject to criticism on pragmatic grounds. Religion is most definitely subject to external cultural criticism. If this locates an impasse for us, then, I’ll just accept that for now and dig deeper into his thought on my own. Thanks.
January 26, 2010 - 10:37 PM
RE: If you can’t see that pragmatic displays are viscously circular, I don’t know what to tell you.
Not all tautologies are created equal. Some are more taut as measured by pragmatic, prudential and practical criteria, albeit fallibly. I think the theme that is now running in our exchange is that some of the things that you interpret as epistemic catastrophes for me are but weaknesses with work-arounds. Most pomo-theos seem to have retreated from a naive realism to a critical realism/fallibilism, while others have run the white flag of a nonrealist surrender up the epistemic pole.
January 26, 2010 - 10:43 PM
I think you’ve misread me. I never claimed that religions aren’t subject to criticism on pragmatic grounds. I’ve said they’re all equally subject to such criticism. More importantly, I’ve said that the pragmatic display of, say, one variety of Christianity isn’t enough to make it more plausible than say, Buddhism, even if the display passes critical muster, since it is just as possible for Buddhism to be pragmatically displayed and to pass critical muster. Just as it is possible for Buddhism to be critiqued pragmatically, it is possible for Christianity to be critiqued pragmatically, and there are no value-free criteria by which to critique them in the first place. If Christianity fails a pragmatic test, it can draw from other resources within its tradition in order to critique the assumptions of the critic, thus defusing any threat. This happens all the time. The resort to “divine mystery” is of course the ultimate trump card.
No, I am not a Wittgensteinian fideist. Wittgensteinian fideism is the result of a group of Reformed Wittgenstein disciples exploiting certain frames of Wittgenstein’s conversational process. Wittgenstein himself was an agnostic who was interested in showing how religious belief is autonomous: a trusting that something is the case rather than a superstitious pseudo-science. Of course, if Wittgenstein had done some further genealogy, he would have discovered that this has not always been the case. His modern religious subject is not representative of ancient religion, but that fact is obscured in his discussions. This of course refers us back to my previous post and the analogy of my daughter the princess, and the death of a thousand qualifications.
January 26, 2010 - 10:52 PM
Re: the pomo-theo retreat from naive realism, the God of the fallibilists keeps getting smaller and smaller, of course. And your language of “work-arounds” displays, I think, the heart of my critique. Naive realism has at least one thing going for it that pomo-theology has had to abandon: aesthetic simplicity. I find little to be more repugnant than post-critical aesthetic theology.
January 26, 2010 - 11:07 PM
Re: the pomo-theo retreat from naive realism, the God of the fallibilists keeps getting smaller and smaller, of course. And your language of “work-arounds” displays, I think, the heart of my critique. Naive realism has at least one thing going for it that pomo-theology has had to abandon: aesthetic simplicity. I find little to be more repugnant than post-critical aesthetic theology.
There’s still hope for us, then. Origen and Pseudo-Dionysius got me started
January 26, 2010 - 11:31 PM
Pre-critical. Post-critical. Not synonyms.
January 26, 2010 - 11:46 PM
RE: I think you’ve misread me. I never claimed that religions aren’t subject to criticism on pragmatic grounds. I’ve said they’re all equally subject to such criticism. More importantly, I’ve said that the pragmatic display of, say, one variety of Christianity isn’t enough to make it more plausible than say, Buddhism, even if the display passes critical muster, since it is just as possible for Buddhism to be pragmatically displayed and to pass critical muster. Just as it is possible for Buddhism to be critiqued pragmatically, it is possible for Christianity to be critiqued pragmatically, and there are no value-free criteria by which to critique them in the first place. If Christianity fails a pragmatic test, it can draw from other resources within its tradition in order to critique the assumptions of the critic, thus defusing any threat. This happens all the time. The resort to “divine mystery” is of course the ultimate trump card.
At first, you seem to affirm it in principle, on theoretic grounds, but then subvert that with the suggestion that there are no value-free criteria available for critique?
I appreciate that a problematic can exist on methodological grounds re: the difficulty of gathering sociologic metrics & then rigorously interpreting them.
The pragmatic criteria proposed in my own tradition – orthopraxis authenticates orthodoxy – employs Lonerganian “conversions” (developmental processes akin to Piaget, Kohlberg, Fowler, Erikson et al) as criteria asking how well institutionalized practices foster intellectual, affective, moral, social and religious development. These are cross-cultural anthropological criteria and difficult to gauge but these are legitimate questions.
Of course, it only works if one accepts, at least, semiotic and moral realisms (e.g. w/such distinctions as real and apparent needs, lesser and higher goods & some coherent approach that pays homage to aretaic/virtue ethics, deontological, consequentialist & contractarian ethics and so on; or at least a Satrean view of our shared human condition leading us to devise similar prescriptions for what ails humankind despite our differences, such as we encoded in the UN Declaration of Human Rights).
And we need to consider such evaluations on the whole. I think it is too early on humankind’s journey to do this very well, but I affirm this in principle and think it can help us on micro- if not macro-levels. Further, it is not unreasonable to imagine our methods will improve. As I mentioned earlier, we can discern where it is that science flourished and where it was, rather, stillborn. We can discern who is cranking out the most fundamentalists, creationists, militarists. The caveat is distinguishing between, for example, Christendom and Christianity, between where Buddhism has failed and where it may not have even been tried. And, yes, the results are mixed. Per my tautology, the Spirit’s at work all over. And this has nothing to do, in my view, with classical soteriology re: who’s saved but only to do with running the human development race more swiftly and with less hindrance. I have a radically ecumenical outlook, but not because I don’t believe that we can exercise discernment between traditions, but precisely because we can.
January 26, 2010 - 11:50 PM
RE: Pre-critical. Post-critical. Not synonyms.
‘xactly!
January 27, 2010 - 12:13 AM
This isn’t a contradiction, John. It’s realism. You know this. No view from nowhere. Hardly needs to be said. There is no extralinguistic space from which to evaluate the correspondence between language and world.
Just about any tradition or worldview can be “authenticated” in precisely the same way. That’s all I’ve been saying. On what grounds are you protesting this, or are you belaboring the conversation just for the sake of it?
So, in other words, there is no value-free way to approach such criticism.
Sometimes it feels like you’re talking just to talk.
This is almost incomprehensible. Moreover, it betrays yet another of your unjustifiable/untestable assumptions: that humankind is on a “journey,” that there is some sort of promise that we’re going to know more about ultimate reality at some point in the future than we do now. The fact is, we don’t know anything more about “ultimate reality” now than we did 6,000 years ago, so there is absolutely zero reason to assume some sort of general principle of progress on this point. The reality is, if we were to discover or uncover some “ultimate metaphysical reality” at some point in the future, that would only mean that it isn’t ultimate metaphysical reality. We can’t discover anything by our faculties beyond what our faculties can discover. And the quest for the “meaning of everything” is little more than grammatical confusion.
When is any of this going to touch the ground? Why should we care that you see it this way? What does it advance to us? How does this help us make more sense of the world? Or is it just a way you’ve found to go on being “Christian” (i.e., a princess) in light of a thousand challenges to the Bible and historic Christian faith?
I think you may have missed my point.
January 27, 2010 - 1:07 AM
Yes, I have repeated myself in an attempt to draw out extra responses from you for the purpose of seeing if I heard you correctly, especially when I’ve been left incredulous by certain answers.
I see progress in science, philosophy, culture and religion. And while theological science is mostly practical, I see progress in our theologies of nature and natural theology (which is essentially a philosophical advance). And some of this progress is precisely a retreat away from the old nominalism-essentialism conundrum and other sterile dualisms, such as via semiotic science and analytical philosophy. And thus it is that our categories and conceptions have improved as well as our self-critical analyses. And so I do not accept your false dichotomy between incomprehensibility and a final theory of everything. Rather, we are advancing slowly but inexorably even in the manner in which ultimate reality becomes more “intelligible” is my fallibilist, provisional closure, which is backed by a host of truth-indicative criteria.
We do not know enough about reality to say what will remain unknowable. (GKC)
But let me say this in Wittgensteinian terms that you might better grasp my meaning: “To draw a limit to thought you must think both sides of that limit.”
And that is where you have grievously erred in your defense of nonrealism, both metaphysical and theological.
You may wish to consult the life’s work of Wittgenstein’s literary executor, Elizabeth Anscombe, for a more universally compelling appropriation of his thought.
This is a difficult medium without the benefit of nonverbal gestures. You were right that I misread the nature of your religious epistemology, at first. There is a gulf, it appears. It is only in my desire to bridge it that I may have gotten a tad tedious. So, I apologize if I offended charity in any way. It was not my intent.
See you in the funny papers.
January 27, 2010 - 3:41 AM
“Jonathan, I look forward to whatever it is you would like to do to me physically.”
I want pictures.
January 27, 2010 - 5:23 AM
“The truth claims in question are not only a/theological but also often cosmological and anthropological, and the latter are accessible to scientific and philosophic critique.”
In which case their merits aren’t really bound up in whether their metaphysical speculations can be verified or not, nor do those merits in and of themselves constitute such verification.
Offering practical reasons for believing in God, or for being part of a particular kind of faith community, or for assenting to a particular theo/philosophical outlook, etc. is not actually a realist argument for the existence of God, or the necessity of a particular kind of God.
So even if you were able to supply slam-dunk practical evidence in favor of a particular belief or way of belief (…etc. — obviously I am simplifying the terms of engagement for the sake of illustration), there would still be people like me and Thom saying “Yes, but that doesn’t make it true…”
[And don't go pulling any pomo-meets-Pilate "What is truth" bullshit either. You know what I mean.]
At which point you could accuse us of simply being stubborn, and blame our mothers for it. We’d counter by admitting that things only look this way from our vantage point, which is just as contingent as anyone else’s, but pointing out that you can’t claim any different, and ours has the benefit of not only accounting for that contingency but anticipating it and being to some extent predicated upon it.
“Your argument dissolves in parody if you substitute Science in the place of God.”
Which is why Thom isn’t substituting Science in place of God. You’re subjecting Thom’s reasoning to a category error and then blaming him for it, in flat contradiction of your claims to accept the autonomy of various human enterprises. You’re saying, in other words, that if Thom committed the category error of substituting Science for God, then he’d be wrong. Um, duh. Such a substitution dissolves into parody because God is a shitty hypothesis.
The fact that you can use the phrase “theological science” might say all we need to know about the gulf between us.
I also think we need to make sure, in this protracted conversation, that we are making a distinction between Thom’s critiques of theodicy and arguments for theological non-realism.
Accepting the arguments against theodicy would mean abandoning the god-concepts defended by those theodicies. But this can be done in the service of atheism, or in the service of whatever one takes to be the One True God, or in service of Buddhism or some other construct of speculative metaphysics (oh wait — that was redundant…).
So, the Starkian critique of theodicy is one thing. That Thom could also rightly pass as a non-realist is another thing, and I fear that you’re assuming that Thom is saying one necessarily leads to the other. I don’t think he’s saying that, and if he is, he’s wrong — I mean, we disagree.
Being a good Wittgensteinian is not the point. I know Thom drinks himself to sleep every time I say this, but I’ve never read Wittgenstein. Aside from a facile familiarity with ideas like “language games” and such, I knew nothing about W until I began talking to Thom, who simply pointed out that in many of my conclusions, Dubya had preceded me.
So your rather transparent attempt to leverage Wittgenstein against Thom is not going to work on Thom because he’s smarter than that and it’s not going to work on me because I don’t give a fuck.
[Please don't assume that I'm angry on any kind of affective level. This is sport. Surely you realize this.]
“We do not know enough about reality to say what will remain unknowable. (GKC)”
Addendum to Ira’s Corollary: in certain circles, any of the Inklings can be substituted for Lewis.
The “we don’t know enough” ploy is also a red herring. We may, in the future, know more about the universe — in fact, we almost certainly will. But the things we know in the future will, at that point, no longer be metaphysical speculation, but amenable to scientific inquiry, even if this means radically adjusting theory and even process in order to account for the new information.
One recurring theme in Star Trek is the discovery that something earlier generations took to be a god is really a different kind of life form. In that scenario, the theists were right inasmuch as there was something more, and wrong inasmuch as this something more was not the god they expected — and perhaps (as with Q, for instance) not worthy of worship.
My brand of non-realism is not about pretending to know what we can or can’t know in the future, but an assertion of what we can’t know now, which includes the future. Just as whatever the “really real” is could theoretically be any damn thing (or nothing at all), what we’ll learn about the universe in the future could also be any damn thing (or nothing at all) and it would be naive to think that it will confirm our pet theories as to what the “really real” might be. But this is hardly a critique of theological non-realism.
This is not to say that I don’t find some possibilities more plausible than others, based on various criteria. My current thinking is that whatever might lie beyond is more like nothing than something, though like most people I sometimes have a feeling this nothing might be up to something.
I admit that for all my posturing, I sound more like an atheist than anything else, even though I claim to reject atheism as just another metaphysical speculation. The non-realist is more like the atheist in the same way that the atheist is more like the monotheist: a monotheist rejects all gods but one; the atheist rejects one more god than the atheist; the non-realist rejects one more dogmatic assertion of metaphysical speculation than the atheist.
I can’t shake the idea that what you’re really doing — and this is a staple, I think, of pomo apologetics — is taking us to task for not being willing to substitute willful suspension of disbelief for belief.
January 27, 2010 - 9:30 AM
Your not having read Wittgenstein is just another excuse for me to drink myself to sleep at night.
Quotes like the following are cause for me to enjoy a celebratory good-morning scotch:
=
In answer to the implied question: no. Knocking down theodicies doesn’t constitute proof of nonrealism. It may constitute cumulative evidence, however, of an anthropology of religions sort. While, with Wittgenstein, you can’t provide knock-down evidence to the king who believes that the world began when he did for the fact that the world is quite a bit older than he is, not, at any rate, evidence like the kind the king with his ego-centric worldview would be able to process, you can still look at the cases of several kings who claim similar things about the origin of the world and conclude for yourself with some certainty that at the very least, only one of the kings can be right. From there, it is not unreasonable to conclude that none of them are, since we know that kings tend to possess such fantastic ideas, and that such ideas are held up by the support of a network of loyal subjects who have a vested interest in maintaining the fiction. In the same way, looking at the history of “theodicy” can function as cumulative (though not knock-down) evidence in a non-realist argument.
Do we disagree, Ira?
January 27, 2010 - 9:32 AM
I’d like to point out that I am not antipathetic toward theology. I have a theology (and really, theological non-realism cannot escape being, er, theological), one that sees the Christian narrative pointing to us as the only reliable agency of God in the word, that the Christ-event exposes God’s nakedness, that there are no guarantees that God will spare us crucifixion or take us down from the cross, that the Resurrection does not so much negate this as confirm it, that the divine Joke is that we live in perpetual saeculum, that there is no deus ex machina to save us from ourselves, that we are on our own.
The arc of the universe might seem to bend in our favor from time to time, which we hope means toward justice, but we cannot count on this. We cannot read whether it does or doesn’t as a sign of God’s favor or disfavor and we cannot use that as a shortcut through or substitute for the moral struggle that is our human condition.
Fully orbed, if I ever bother to get there, it would be a theological description of the world as I see it. There are other ways to describe that world without recourse to such language but I am a religious (if not terribly spiritual) person and I persist in thinking in theological categories.
But I don’t pretend this is more than an heuristic, and I don’t pretend it bears scrutiny as an ontology qua ontology.
In a similar vein, I could be skeptical about my wife’s love for me. I don’t know her mind. I don’t know if she’s sincere. Moreover, I have no way to know for certain that her affections, even if genuine, are significantly more than epiphenomenal artifacts of evolutionary selection for traits that promote the propagation of the species.
As long as she is loving towards me, I have no need to worry about such questions, and no need to deconstruct her every profession of love toward me.
If she were unloving toward me to the point that I decided to call it quits, then it wouldn’t matter how much she protested to the contrary; it is precisely because I don’t know and can’t know what’s “in her heart” that I must work with the evidence at hand.
What I would not do is try to make excuses on her behalf, to cling to the belief that she loves me in spite of the evidence. [Actually, this happens all the time in abusive relationships.] To do so would be delusional and a sign that I needed help.
This, then, is the connective thread between the critique of theodicy and non-realism. It’s not that the former leads inexorably to the latter, nor is it that no theological constructs can be useful or that a god-concept can never be worth holding. It’s that our theological speculations need, at the very least, to not fly delusionally in the face of evidence and logic, and that this level of pragmatism probably implies non-realism to begin with.
Or, more succinctly: rejecting non-realism on pragmatic grounds concedes non-realism.
January 27, 2010 - 9:36 AM
We crossed posts there.
No, we don’t disagree at all. Once you start knocking down various God-concepts you pretty soon end up with no remainder, and you realize you’re making things up to knock down, which leads to the trivially obvious realization that we’ve been making stuff up all along.
February 2, 2010 - 1:28 PM
Re: http://zoecarnate.wordpress.com/2010/02/02/all-will-be-well-polyanna-platitude-or-responsible-mystical-theodicy/#comments
Sorry, John. I was presuming to be part of the conversation. My bad.
February 3, 2010 - 4:17 PM
Good post, Thom.
“Yahweh is better than…Midian’s god”? Really? I thought Yahweh was Midian’s god.
I’m sorry if I’m repeating someone’s comment. I read the first ten, before I realized that there were 120 more.
I’m reminded of Jesus’ explanation for a man’s congenital blindness: it was the fault neither of him nor of his parents; rather it happened that the glory of God be revealed (John 9:1-5). In addition to being reminded of Yahweh’s “glory-mongering,” I think Jesus’ answer, although deflective, points to how we are to respond. (Kudos to atheists and even to godforsaken governments if they respond in similar ways.)
Nevertheless, I want to believe that God acts in this world, that God changes hearts with more than just the words of Scripture.
February 3, 2010 - 4:25 PM
“I thought Yahweh was Midian’s God.”
Numbers 25 indicates that they must have worshiped at least Baal of Peor if not others. They had a religious connection to Moab as well.
And if Midianites worshiped Yahweh, why did Yahweh order the Israelites to wipe out all five tribes of Midian (Num 31)?
February 3, 2010 - 4:55 PM
I was referring to Frank Cross’ Midianite Hypothesis–namely, that Yahweh worship originated in Midian. (Cross points to Jethro and to biblical associations of Yahweh with southern locations, including Teman.) I wasn’t suggesting that Yahweh was their god forever. I guess that makes my comment moot. My bad.
February 3, 2010 - 5:35 PM
No. I could/should have taken it as a sort of inside joke. My bad.
April 25, 2010 - 6:48 PM
My take is usually the “His ways are higher than our ways” and “He is beyond our comprehension” approach. And additionally doing something for those who are suffering, etc.
Does that make me a brainless robot obeying God mindlessly? Meh…sure. Ok…go ahead and label me. I don’t see stupid the way everyone else does. In our society “stupid” is the great sin. And I am the chief sinner in that regard. Regardless of how I’m labeled I’ll just continue to obey Him whom I don’t understand–mindlessly or otherwise.
April 25, 2010 - 7:11 PM
What you seem to be implying, Matt, is that those of us who challenge God are guilty of something like “intellectualism.” Nobody has called you stupid. That would be the wrong label. You obviously see what’s problematic about God, but are choosing to suspend your moral sensibilities in the name of trust. That’s not stupidity. That’s a trust that I think does poor justice to those who suffer. You seem to think objections to God’s character like the one I’m raising here are particularly modern, the product of “our society” in which “stupid is the great sin.” On the contrary, to my mind I am continuing the great biblical tradition of those who have felt the need to challenge God to prove that he is righteous in the face of so much injustice. Two thousand years after God promised to bring an end to injustice once and for all, I think a healthy biblical faith demands we speak up again and demand some kind of new response.
April 26, 2010 - 9:41 AM
i don’t think that god ever calls us to mindlessly obey him. that is what jesus came to do away with (without trying to get into a different discussion).
a relationship with the creator god was no longer about the law, but about a permanent indwelling of his spirit in us-an actual continuous relationship.
being in relationship means being engaged fully with all of our self, not about getting it ‘right,’ which seems to be the goal of ‘following mindlessly.’ it is, my impression anyway, that the attitude is something like, ‘i would rather follow mindlessly and make sure that i am doing the right thing, than question god and possibly do something wrong.’
i think that christians have been over-conditioned to the point that anything of ‘our society’ is bad, and as such, we need to be the opposite of that. so, in this case, society thinks stupid is the great sin, and christians react to that, saying, ’stupid’ must be ok, because i am ‘not of this world.’
as such, we then don’t have to ask questions, doubt, etc, because it’s ok for me to not engage intellectually, or ethically, or whatever.
i am not saying, whether anything in particular is good or bad, just that we have sort of developed this knee jerk reaction. we as christians, should be responding more and reacting less.
April 27, 2010 - 12:34 AM
First off, NOBODY knows ANYONE better than God. He knows EACH AND EVERYONE of those who died in Haiti better than you. He knows them inside out and knows the secret places of their hearts. He knows His own reasons why He allowed/sent such a disaster. So at whatever point anyone thinks they’re SO right in judging God and His actions, they’d better just take a humble step or two back and consider how smart they really are. We don’t have the full picture. He does. God can handle our objections precisely because we are little children in our understanding who don’t understand the things of God as we ought. But “mindless” obedience often brings understanding.
Second, I’m not saying we can’t or shouldn’t ask questions, but we ought note how the psalmists–famous for their questions toward God–eventually ended their psalms: with trust and praise to God or at the very least a cry for help. They didn’t go on mouthing off to God saying, “Great job, O All-consuming-love One! Way to be there for all the starving children! Way to be the Great Provider–of graves! Hey, King of Love, next time you want to show us your love, why don’t you just take a permanent vacation because it’d probably be more productive!” That’s not thinking things through. That’s just blasphemy.
As for a “relationship” with Jesus: Let’s get one thing straight: If one of your friends said to you, “Hey, Scott/Thom, if you’re going to be my friend, you need to do as I tell you,” what kind of friendship is that? Yet Jesus said, “You are my friends if you do as I command,” and again, “teaching them to keep everything I commanded you.”
So obey. A great deal of understanding follows obedience–and not necessarily the other way around.
April 27, 2010 - 12:49 AM
Mr. Drama,
How precisely am I disobeying? I’d love to hear it. Also, if a great deal of understanding follows obedience, and you’re obeying, why don’t you have a great deal more understanding about why God is doing this than I do? By your own admission, you still don’t have a clue. Blind trust isn’t understanding. It’s blind trust.
As for your identification of Job’s protests as “blasphemy,” I’m sure Job and God both would be interested in hearing your take on that. News to them.
Matt, if God knows everyone inside and out, knowing the secret places of their hearts, why does he kill so indiscriminately? Why do the righteous suffer and the wicked prosper? Why has it taken God 2,000 years to solve a problem he promised to solve in about 40?
It’s all very well of you to want to defend God. (I mean, I think that if God is God, he should be able to defend himself, but whatever.) But if you are going to come to God’s defense, is this the best you’ve got? “God knows best. Trust me.”
Well, paint me an intellectual, but that’s not an answer. It’s little more than an insecure reaction. I think I with my blasphemies might actually trust God more than you do with your knee-jerk defenses and straw-men. If God is God, then you have his permission to shut up. Methinks thou dost protest too much. Your protests against my protests display an insecurity in your faith. If I’m protesting too much, that may just be an indication that I trust that God is good enough to take the protests seriously and give an answer.
So calm down. Stop getting worked up in God’s defense. God can defend himself. Start getting worked up in defense of the defenseless. Defend their honor, even if it means challenging God’s.
All you’re doing so far here is blowing smoke up God’s ass, and that, my friend, is blassphemous.
April 27, 2010 - 9:26 AM
Mrs. Drama
I never called into question Job. I never even MENTIONED Job. But since you raised the subject, he NEVER blasphemed God. Reread what I said, please. And perhaps reread Job. At least as far as, “In all this, Job did not sin by accusing God of wrong doing” (paraphrase).
I also never said you weren’t obeying, did I? No. Rather, it seems to me you’ve been doing something about what you’ve witnessed–exactly as you should. Do you believe you have a little more understanding about suffering than, say, someone who has never been involved in relief efforts? If not, then do you ever find yourself feeling like you have more authority to speak on the subject than, say, someone who merely sits behind their keyboard all day and simply repulses at one moment pictures of suffering and then switches sites to something more pleasant, like a comedy video?
Blind trust isn’t always wrong. I know it isn’t always right, either, but sometimes it’s all you have to go on.
He only seems to “kill indiscriminately” because you don’t know the whole situation. You don’t. You just don’t. You weren’t there. You don’t know the hearts of men or the heart of God enough to know what is going on (and I’m not saying I do, either, nor do I think I have to have all the answers). Kind of like Job, who questioned severely what was going on in his life–not wrong in itself, but there was room for learning even on Job’s part. God’s response, in short, was, “I’m God in heaven. You don’t even understand the first thing about how my world works, so how can you understand what I’m doing in this situation?” Job wasn’t wrong to ask, protest, etc. What made the difference is if he would still be able to say, “Yahweh gives and Yahweh takes away. Blessed be the Name of Yahweh,” or, “Curse God,” and die.
I didn’t say, “God knows best. Trust me.” I’m saying, “God knows best. Trust HIM.”
Please try to calm down a little bit, yourself.
Try not to get all bent out of shape over things you don’t understand–or even things you think you DO understand. It really displays an insecurity in being able to trust God regardless of whether you have the whole picture or not.
“Matt, if God knows everyone inside and out, knowing the secret places of their hearts, why does he kill so indiscriminately? Why do the righteous suffer and the wicked prosper? Why has it taken God 2,000 years to solve a problem he promised to solve in about 40?”
You echo the psalmists precisely. How will you react to this perception of God seeming to be unjust and forgetful of His people? Will you hold onto your faith in Him? What did Jesus say about persistence in prayer? Think parable of the unjust judge and the widow. If God does something about these things, will He find faith on the earth? Or just more of the same, “I’ll follow God only as long as He acts the way I and many of my fellow common sense thinking buddies think He should act”?
In other words, will you default to the thing everyone else does (think Saul, who logically made a sacrifice to God because from his limited perspective Samuel didn’t come through for him) or will you do the unusual thing and bless God regardless of whether you understand Him or not (think David, who had numerous counter intuitive reactions to the situations he found himself in)?
April 27, 2010 - 9:31 AM
“Regardless, who do you think you are, you armchair theologians, you professional apologists! Did God’s victims appoint you? Did they grant you the power to acquit the Most High? What gives you the right? Your Bible College degree? Your ordination? Your PhD? Your church attendance record? Your own personal experiences? Which of these gives you the right to issue an immediate ‘not guilty’ verdict upon God, on behalf of nine new orphans?”
And who of them appointed you prosecutor? And what are your credentials to be such?
April 27, 2010 - 11:24 AM
“And who of them appointed you prosecutor? And what are your credentials to be such?”
Several of them actually. And my credentials are being human.
As for the rest of your garbage, it’s time to put an end to it. All you’re capable of doing is expressing how much you dislike what I’m saying and doing. Point noted. I don’t care whether you like it. You keep feigning to defend God, but not offering any sort of defense. It still amounts to, “God knows best. Trust me.” Well, I don’t trust you, nor do I have any reason to trust you.
First, you’re admitting that God killed people here. Second, you’re suggesting that the infants and children God killed had it coming. Why else would “knowing their hearts” be relevant to their deaths?
So, you can officially stop trying to help God. You’re not helping, actually. You’re just making him look worse.
And a keen sensibility will recognize that Christians trying to defend God in the midst of tragedy have been the object of my attack all along. You, not God, are the real problem.
April 27, 2010 - 11:43 AM
I’m sorry. That’s what I understood when you said this:
The implication is that if I would obey, I would understand God better. You told me to obey. Seems to me like you’re suggesting I don’t understand because I’m not obeying.
Yes, you did call Job into question, when you suggested that accusing God of wrongdoing is blasphemy. You didn’t mention Job because you don’t realize that’s what Job does emphatically throughout the story. Job refused to curse God (something I haven’t done either). But he didn’t refuse to accuse God, contrary to your “paraphrase” (of what?).
Here is a sampling of what Job actually says:
It is all one; therefore I say,
he destroys both the blameless and the wicked.
When disaster brings sudden death,
he mocks at the calamity of the innocent.
The earth is given into the hands of the wicked;
he covers the eyes of its judges –
if it is not he, who then is it? (9:22-24)
Here is my signature! Let the Almighty answer me! (31:35a)
Sounds like you’re the one who needs to re-read Job. In the meantime, I stand in the righteous tradition of Job, speaking out on behalf of those who suffer: God owes us an answer.
Call it blasphemy all you want. You’re just showing your own ignorance when you do, and the fragility of your faith.
April 27, 2010 - 11:56 AM
Oh and by the way, nice escalation calling me “Mrs.” I guess it was just a matter of time before you had to resort to gendered insults.
Duly noted. I’m a female. I stand in awe of your cleverness.
April 27, 2010 - 3:37 PM
I think that one thing this post-something discussion needs is a firm committment on everyone’s part to stop saying that “the Bible” says, indicates, or declares ANYTHING. WE readers and interpreters do these things using the Bible. It only obscures the issues when we treat the Bible like it is a stand-alone, already interpreted document. Just my two cents for now…
April 27, 2010 - 3:42 PM
John,
I only do that where I’ve argued at length that that’s what the Bible says. For instance, God promised to solve the problem within 40 years, two thousand years ago, as I’ve argued here.
April 27, 2010 - 5:25 PM
“‘And who of them appointed you prosecutor? And what are your credentials to be such?’
Several of them actually. And my credentials are being human.”
I highly doubt that would stand up to any bona fide scrutiny. I think you had to do a lot of mental gymnastics to get there.
I don’t care whether I “like” anything you say or not either. I’m aiming for truth, regardless of where it lands me. And the truth is God is God and you are not. His purposes behind anything that happen aren’t always for us to know. And He doesn’t have to tell us.
I said it before and I’ll say it again: You. Don’t. Know. You don’t know what His purposes are. You don’t know His reasons. You don’t know the hearts of children (righteous or wicked). Life and death are in His hands. He isn’t as indiscriminate as you think. You weren’t there. You don’t have the inside scoop. None of us does. You are only able to feebly attempt to understand what’s going on. You might even be right in a number of cases. But at the end of the day, you’re just another human like the rest of us who can’t understand the mind of God. You can either choose to trust Him, condemn Him, or redefine Him. But in the end…you. do. not. know.
It also doesn’t matter if I’m “making God look bad.” Lots of people hate God even when His representatives are right. Unless we think the parts about Paul being stoned half to death are just made up fantasies. Stephen? Well I’m sure it was just his mouthiness that got him in trouble. I’m sure they were very happy with him right up until he said, “Stiff-necked people with uncircumcised hearts!”
The paraphrase was of Job 1:22 and 2:10. But even if you want to prove your case (40:1, 2), be sure to check out 42:3 (and, of course, context).
“Defending God in the midst of tragedy”
The key here is “in the midst of tragedy.” I have NEVER counseled anyone to repent of blasphemy when they get mad at God for the death of a loved one. After some time–after a mourning period, though–it does become inappropriate to continue to rant at God. Yes, He’s a big boy and can take it, but at some point the whole ranting at God becomes a wedge point in the relationship. It needs to be tanked.
April 27, 2010 - 5:27 PM
Btw, if you want to REALLY bask in the brilliance of insult escalation and cleverness, maybe you should ponder the finer points of why I chose to say, “Mrs.” as opposed to “Miss.” I mean…a gender insult? That’d be far too easy.
April 27, 2010 - 6:01 PM
“Rant” is a pejoration of a legitimate claim against an injustice. You wouldn’t say a rape victim is “ranting” when she demands justice against a rapist.
And I would say that the “wedge point int he relationship” occurred when God killed innocent people for no apparent reason. Getting mad and staying mad until an answer is given isn’t driving a wedge between those who suffer and the God who causes suffering. The wedge was put there by God.
I’ll say it again. “You. Don’t. Know.” is not an answer. It is just reiterating the problem.
April 27, 2010 - 6:19 PM
Unless you have something new to add, Matt, I think we’ve tapped your contribution out. If you want to keep repeating yourself, probably best you do it on your own blog.
April 27, 2010 - 7:23 PM
1. The potential for earthquakes is necessary for there to be complex life on earth. If such events did not occur, we wouldn’t be around to question their implications.
2. Maybe there is no God. That pretty much takes care of the “problem.”
3. Perhaps God is not all-powerful. If natural disasters are a necessary cost to their being intelligent life, God isn’t their immediate cause but can be regarded as that which gave rise to such an environment. I guess we would just have to decide whether this is all worth it. To some (Ehrman comes to mind) it’s not and cannot possibly be the “best of all possible worlds.”
April 27, 2010 - 7:34 PM
Good comments, Andrew. I’m of course offering my critique from within the perspective of Christian theism. From that perspective, God is at least powerful enough to solve the problem, as he has promised to do according to the Scriptures.
April 27, 2010 - 7:46 PM
Thom, I like the direction in which you’re pushing. You sound like a psalmist.
April 27, 2010 - 7:55 PM
Thom,
How do you believe God will solve the problem? If #1 is true, which modern science clearly contends, then solving the problem would elimate there being life, right?
Also, if God is powerful enough to fix the problem, why wasn’t God powerful enough to create via another means? And why does it take billions of years for God to “fix” things? The Scriptures could appeal to a “fall,” but we know the world isn’t as it is for any such reason. Thus its vision of “restoration” misses the mark. There never was an idealic state of nature to begin with.
April 27, 2010 - 8:10 PM
Andrew, you know my answer to these questions. I am offering my critique from within this perspective. If the problems this perspective give rise to are irresolvable, what does that say about the perspective?
April 27, 2010 - 9:26 PM
ah,
thom has finally tipped his hand, if only slightly!
April 27, 2010 - 9:30 PM
I have no hand to tip. Or rather, I don’t even know whether what I have is a hand or not.
April 27, 2010 - 9:31 PM
Just kidding. My point is, as people of faith, we should not shrink back from questions that potentially undermine our position. If we get there and find our position undermined, we have a number of alternatives. One of them is recognizing that the questions have given us a better understanding of what it is we believe.
April 27, 2010 - 9:52 PM
yes, yes, i know.
it’s just good for me to see, every so often, at least, that there is a real thom under (or next to, or behind…) the scholar/theologian thom.
April 27, 2010 - 9:57 PM
In the immortal words of Tim Allen, “I’m not really here.“
April 28, 2010 - 8:11 AM
I have a hard time imagining a “real” Thom who isn’t a scholar. Maybe it’s just me.
More on topic, I’m wondering if our desire to let God off the hook isn’t somehow a desire to let ourselves off the hook. If the problems of human existence are intractable to the point that even God can’t seem to help us out, or are some kind of inscrutable part of God’s divine plan, then of course we can’t be expected to do much, right?
At bottom we have a random tragedy, an earthquake, which as far as I’m concerned is simply an artifact of the formation of the earth. Plates shift. (Shift, as it were, happens.) We build ramshackle buildings on fault lines and then the earth heaves and they fall down. We dam and redirect rivers and live on the floodplains and sometimes the levees break. The geological and meteorological events in question are beyond our control.
But the particularities of a tragedy like the Haitian earthquake are not. There are systems of injustice that keep Haiti too poor to build in a way that might mitigate the damage of an earthquake. There are systems of injustice that mean the well-to-do had better facilities and a viable escape plan while the poorest, as usual, paid the highest price. We have systems of injustice that give some of us the privilege of theologizing away the pain of human suffering.
The idea that this had anything to do with the hearts of Haitian orphans is pure unadulterated bullshit. Even if it did, this should not ameliorate our rage. If God is going to strike down orphans for the wickedness of their hearts and not arrange to have Wall Street sucked in to the bowels of the earth, then God still owes somebody a fucking apology.
I’ll wait with Thom.
Maybe the answer, if there is an answer, is for us to accept our responsibility as the body of Christ, as God in the flesh (if being the body of Christ does not mean this, then what good is it?), and speak into the chaos. We can’t speak for God in the sense of explaining or justifying something that has no explanation or justification. But we can act on God’s behalf, we can advocate for justice, we can champion the poor and the oppressed and the alien. We can do the work of the kind of God we’d like to think exists.