“trinitarians”… Fer it… or agin’ it?

Following up on the previous post - the word “trinitarian” may be an adjective or a noun. The Oxford English Dictionary lists four adjective meanings: (here’s my editing of relevant parts of their entry, emphasis added)

2. Theol. Relating to the Trinity; holding the doctrine of the Trinity (opp. to Unitarian). In early use, Trinitarian heretic, one holding heretical views as to the Trinity:

1656 BLOUNT Glossogr., Trinitarian hereticks, otherwise New Arians are those that deny the blessed Trinity, and all distinction of the Divine persons.

3. Forming a trinity; consisting of or involving three in one; triple, threefold.

Part of the usage we’re complaining about is 3 - where “trinitarian” just means something or some group of things which is somehow triple or threefold. But it’s worse than that - theologians by “trinitarian” often mean just something that is somehow related to something which is three-fold. And worse yet, self-described “trinitarians” mean several different things by “the Trinity”, many of which we’ve looked into here.

So far, we haven’t found what I was looking for - a usage of “trinitarian” for a heresy or heretical party. In the 1656 example above, “trinitarian” heretics are heretical with respect to the Trinity - they aren’t described as “trinitarian” full stop.

We turn then to the noun meanings:

2. Theol. One who holds the doctrine of the Trinity of the Godhead; a believer in the Trinity.

1706 PHILLIPS (ed. Kersey) s.v., The Orthodox that believe the Trinity are also call’d Trinitarians by the Socinians.

In earlier use, ‘applied particularly to certain sectaries whose opinion as to the Trinity was not orthodox’ (Littré) = Trinitarian heretic in A. 2; including Antitrinitarians or Unitarians.

1565 HARDING Confut. Apol. 133 There are many other sectes..to witte, Osiandrines, Adiaphoristes, Antinomians, Newe Maniches,..Trinitarians.
1658 PHILLIPS, Trinitarians, a sort of Hereticks that deny the Mystery of the Trinity [1706 (ed. Kersey) adds] and all distinction of the Divine Persons.

Well, there we have it; apparently as late as the mid 17th century, a “trinitarian” could be someone against “the” doctrine of the Trinity. This is odd… what would they call believers in “the” doctrine (i.e. partisans of the standard creedal formulas)? I guess… “orthodox”. Or maybe: “Christians” or “catholics”.

In any case, when they invented the word “unitarian” in (I’ve been told) 1673, it seems that “trinitarian” evolved to its current use.

One last thing: the OED also mentions this linguistic turd:

Trinitarianize v. trans. to make Trinitarian.

Will this be the next fad among academic theologians? Only time will tell. If so, we’ll be here to complain about it!

Thanks to reader Mike K. for this hilarious link. They beat me to the punch - I’ve been sitting on a post for some time on this exact theme. (Stay tuned.)

I posted a comment asking about this bit:

It’s interesting to note that the English term “Trinitarian” was first used, in the 16th and 17th centuries, as a pejorative description of anti-trinitarians; the heretics were dubbed “Trinitarians”! Then, by the early 18th century, anti-trinitarianism had become so pervasive that orthodox writers were now described as “Trinitarians.”

Is the first part of that true? (I’ve not run across it… but I’ve not read all that much 16th c. stuff relating to the Trinity.) Any trinities readers know?

Update: Ben Myers and Brandon Watson are correct.

MACRUE!… Gesundheit

Man, this is getting to be a long series.

This installment is a book review I’ve written of philosophical theologian James Anderson’s Paradox in Christian Theology: An Analysis of Its Presence, Character, and Epistemic Status. It is forthcoming in the philosophy journal Faith & Philosophy, and is posted by the kind permission of its book review editor Charles Taliaferro.

The review is after the fold. Sorry - it’s written more for philosophy profs than for a general audience. I’ll expand on some of my objections to mysterianism later in this series.

As far as I know, this book is is the all-time most sophisticated, well developed, and plausible defense of the idea that Christians may rationally believe and know apparently contradictory doctrines. Theological literature on “mysteries” is too often marred with unclarity, epistemic carelessness and confusion, and even mystery-mongering, that is, perverse delight in inconsistency (apparent and/or real). In contrast, this book by a philosophically informed and capable young theologian sparkles with Plantingian clarity, sobriety, intellectual honesty, originality, and analytic power (and also, with a lot of Plantingian epistemology, as we’ll see.)

Anderson’s ambitious project cuts against the grain of most contemporary philosophical theology. Consider the following inconsistent triad:

C: If some claim appears after careful reflection to be contradictory I shouldn’t believe it.

O: The orthodox Christian doctrine of X appears after careful reflection to be contradictory.

B: I should believe the orthodox Christian doctrine of X.

What to do in the face of such a conundrum? There are three popular responses.

Most current-day philosophical theologians – or at any rate, many of the most prominent among them – habitually reject O (while affirming C and B), offering some plausible interpretation of X on which X comes out apparently consistent. Anderson, along with probably many theologians and other believers outside the profession of philosophy, rejects this move, as he holds that the reinterpreted X is in fact always out of line with (1) the mainstream of the historic Christian tradition, (2) the ecumenical creeds, rightly interpreted according to the intentions of their framers, and (3) the Bible itself.

A second response is to reject the Orthodox version of doctrine X; that is, reject B (keeping C and O). Theology is inherently conservative, and in keeping with this tendency, Anderson will have none of it, equating it with an abandonment of Christianity.

The third response is to reject C (keeping B and O); this is Anderson’s position, which for lack of a better term I call “mysterian” stance. He attributes adherence to C to “rationalism”, to a prideful preference for our own intuitions over against the clear deliverances of scripture. What is surprising and refreshing is the epistemological sophistication he brings to play in developing and defending this mysterian stance.

The book proceeds as follows. A “paradox” is an apparently contradictory claim. (5-6) The orthodox doctrines of the Trinity and the Incarnation, according to Anderson, are paradoxes. In the second and third chapters he recounts the development of these doctrines in the 4th and 5th centuries, and relentlessly swats away recent attempts to render these doctrines seemingly consistent, by the likes of Barth, Rahner, Cornelius Plantinga, Swinburne, Brown, Martinich, Rea, Brower, Feenstra, Davis, and Morris. He argues that “those interpretations purporting to avoid both paradox and heterodoxy inevitably fail on at least one of the two counts.” (105)

In the fourth chapter he convincingly argues against several alternatives to his mysterian stance: theological anti-realism, anti-deductivism (i.e. qualifying the laws of logic), dialetheism, doctrinal revisionism (i.e. my second response to the inconsistent triad above), what he calls semantic minimalism (claiming that the content of the doctrine in question is too vague to be even apparently contradictory), and the science-inspired theory of “complementarity”.

The long fifth chapter starts with a beautiful exposition of Alvin Plantinga’s epistemology. He locates an ambiguity in the role of the Bible in Plantinga’s epistemology of Christian belief, and suggests some fixes. (181-9) He points out that in Warranted Christian Belief Plantinga is only trying to offer a model of how Christians might be warranted in believing what Plantinga calls “the main lines of the Christian story”. (189-90) Contrary to Anderson, Plantinga assumes that there are orthodox and apparently consistent versions of the Trinity and Incarnation doctrines. (215) Moreover, Plantinga’s “extended A/C” (Aquinas-Calvin) model covers only beliefs based on the explicit content of the Bible, and not creedal doctrines which are (in Anderson’s view) based on the explicit and implicit teachings therein. (190-1, 209) Anderson aims to fill this gap.

Anderson thus extends Plantinga’s theory further, in the fifth and sixth chapters, to cover how Christian beliefs may, if Christianity is true, be warranted, both for sophisticates and for ordinary believers. While this involves some Reformed assumptions about scripture and tradition, Anderson claims that these are not obviously essential to the success of the project. Basically, if Christianity is true, it’s plausible to think that a believer could be warranted in taking the Bible to be a reliable communication from God. And Christian beliefs may be directly or indirectly based on the Bible.

But, comes the objection, if a doctrine appears to be contradictory, shouldn’t that trump its claim to be part of a divine revelation? Even if, say, Chrissy Christian’s belief in the Trinity were warranted, wouldn’t the realization that the doctrine seems contradictory give Chrissy a “defeater” for her trinitarian belief? Anderson takes the bull by the horns here, deploying the whole machinery of undercutting vs. rebutting defeaters, defeater-defeaters, and defeater-insulators. He argues that a warranted belief in divine incomprehensibility will prevent one’s beliefs regarding the Trinity and Incarnation from defeat by one’s belief that they seem inconsistent. (250-6) (More on this crucial point below.)

In the sixth chapter, Anderson gives the heart of his account of our knowledge of “mysteries”, what he calls his RAPT (Rational Affirmation of Paradoxical Theology) theory. He argues that we should take apparent contradictions in orthodox Christian theology to be MACRUEs (Merely Apparent Contradictions Resulting from Unarticulated Equivocation). When we can’t find adequate terms to express some proposition, we’re sometimes driven to assert what appears to be a contradiction, such as “I’m concerned about my wife’s operation, and I’m not concerned about my wife’s operation.” (222) This is a MACRUE, and it in fact expresses a truth, hence a consistent proposition, despite appearances. The equivocation here is in the term “concerned”; he is concerned in that he cares about what happens to his wife, but he’s not concerned in the sense of being worried about the outcome, as he knows the surgeon to be extremely competent. (223)

Here though, as Anderson points out, we can grasp both meanings of “concerned” which constitute the equivocation. But theological cases are more worrisome. One paradox he examines is: “God is one divine being and God is three divine beings.” (226) None of those terms appear equivocal, and yet at least one must be, if that statement is to only appear to express a contradiction. Anderson tries out slapping subscript numbers on various of the terms (e.g. “God is one divine1 being and God is three divine2 beings.”), but that seems ad hoc, and worse, it seems empty – the epitome of a merely formal or verbal solution to a very real difficulty.

Anderson argues that this move isn’t ad hoc because if God is incomprehensible (as nearly all Christians grant), then we should expect apparent contradictions to arise in our thinking and speaking about him. (237-43) Moreover, all of this, Anderson argues, fits well with a doctrine of analogy, in light of which we can see that the disambiguated terms needn’t be devoid of meaning. Rather, they each have a meaning which partially, but not completely, overlaps how we use those terms in ordinary contexts.

In sum, if Christianity were true, we’d expect that Christians would reasonably believe in and know about “mysteries”, where a “mystery” is “a metaphysical state of affairs the revelation of which appears implicitly contradictory to us on account of present limitations in our cognitive apparatus and thus resists systematic description in a perspicuously consistent manner.” (245, original italics) Facts are mysterious in the primary sense, then, and doctrines are mysterious derivatively, insofar as they are about these sorts of facts. (246) Note that Anderson avoids the hard to justify claim that a “mystery” is permanently beyond human capacities. The seventh chapter tangles, somewhat less convincingly, with other objections to his mysterian position on the Trinity and Incarnation, and the eighth chapter briefly summarizes his project and suggests a few implications of it for biblical interpretation and apologetics.

A project this ambitious bristles with difficulties, but here I can only sketch out a central one. Anderson’s project seems to crucially involve the following non sequitur: 1. If God exists, then he’s incomprehensible. 2. Therefore, if God exists, then it’s likely that humans in thinking about God along the lines of God’s self-revelation in the Bible will be forced into apparently contradictory thoughts and statements. The problem is that 2 doesn’t follow from 1, because Anderson’s doctrine of “divine incompehensibility” is just the uncontroversial claim that “although God can be known in part, he cannot be known fully and exhaustively.” (237) That is a very weak claim, to which probably no theist will object. Given our limited information, the probability of God’s putting us in a paradoxical theological situation is inscrutable, not more probable than not. A child may not understand the sexual aspect of her parents’ relationship, but it doesn’t follow that she’ll probably run into paradoxes in thinking about her parents. Whether she does or not depends on her cognitive capacities, on precisely what information her parents choose to reveal, and perhaps on her own free choices concerning how she reflects on her parents’ relationship. It only follows from divine incomprehensibility that we can’t be sure or anything close to it that we’ll never run into paradoxes in theology. Non-mysterians, it seems to me, can happily admit this, and proceed in their non-mysterian ways.

But if we lack the grounds to expect theological paradoxes, then the clear and stable appearance of contradiction seems to provide an undefeated defeater for the warrant and justification of our paradoxical theological claims after all. (Cf. 252) Without a stronger doctrine of incomprehensibility, there’s no way to rule out that our cherished paradoxes have been created by our misguided speculations or wrongheaded scriptural exegesis, rather than being thrust on us by transcendent facts together with our epistemic limits. In sum, it isn’t clear that the mysterian response to my inconsistent triad above fares better than the other two. Would a stronger doctrine of divine incomprehensibility be worth the price?

This book deserves to be widely read by students of theology, philosophy of religion, and apologetics. It is nicely written, organized, and presented, and features a good index, and only very few (insignificant) typographical errors. It would provide ideal material for graduate level seminars in any of the aforementioned fields. Some readers will, like this reviewer, take this book to suggest that the mysterian defense of Christian belief is a philosophical dead end, while others will take it as presenting an exciting, well-motivated, and genuinely different apologetic option. Either way, there’s apt material for reflection here, whether one is trying to come up with a defeater-defeater-defeater, or trying to shore up the mysterian defenses.

Technorati Tags: James Anderson, mystery, paradox, Paradox in Christian Theology, mysterian, mysterianism, positive mysterianism, MACRUE, contradiction, apparent contradiction, 4 R’s, Mysterian Resistance

We now move one the fourth R - what I call Mysterian Resistance (or Mysterianism). The Resistor is resisting the pressure to resolve the apparent contradiction, i.e. changing one of the apparently contradictory beliefs. Unlike the Redirector, the Resister doesn’t ignore the apparent inconsistency. And unlike the Resolver, he doesn’t think there’s a reasonable way to make the apparent contradiction go away. So the Resistor resists - he makes his stand - he comes up with a rationale for keeping his apparently contradictory beliefs.

There are a few other - in my view very unpromising - kinds of Resistance other than Mysterian Resistance. For these, see ch. 4 of this excellent book. (Stay tuned for a review.) I’m going to ignore them in this series, because I think they’re unpromising, because Anderson refutes them well enough (in the above book), and because I think Mysterian Resistance is and always has been by far the most popular kind of Resistance. In fact, I think that because of Mysterianism, Resistance has long been the most popular of the four R’s in Christianity, and least among intellectuals.

Here are some examples of Mysterianism in action:

Someone: How can the entire body of a man be present in each crumb of this wafer?
Mysterian: I don’t know, but it’s a mystery.
Someone: How can a man be fully divine?
Mysterian: I don’t know, but it’s a mystery.
Someone: How there be one God if there are not one but three divine persons?
Mysterian: I don’t know, but it’s a mystery.

There will be different reactions to this. Many philosophers I know would think these are cheap and lazy answers, and would be quick to suggest a Rational Reconstructions of these doctrines. Well, appeals to mystery certainly can be, and often are no more than intellectual laziness. A “mystery” - whatever it is - is a good thing. Some people are simply not worried about consistency, and are supremely confident that the doctrine in question is true and important.

But Mysterianism is far more than a refuge for the intellectually careless. One must remember that some people are down on Rational Reconstructions (briefly: sophisticated and precise, and allegedly defensible versions of religious doctrines) for philosophical reasons, and/or because they are simply convinced that all such Reconstructions distort the real Doctrine in question, as require by the authoritative Source(s). (With Protestants, usually the Bible. With Catholics, the Bible and/or the doctrinal pronouncements of the Roman Catholic Church.) Furthermore, a sophisticated Mysterian holds that it is reasonable to believe an apparent contradiction. He needn’t be intellectually lazy at or, or (this is a different vice) a mystery-monger (the more contradictory the better). He may eschew contradictions in some, but not in all circumstances. And the most thoughtful Mysterians have stories to tell about why their Resistance is reasonable after all.

Mysterianism is worth exploring - it comes in different kinds, has a long history, and there are worries about the reasonableness of it. But I think it’d be good to start off with a look at a recent book which in my view contains the most well-developed mysterian theory to date.

Next time: A review of James Anderson’s Paradox in Christian Theology: An Analysis of Its Presence, Character, and Epistemic Status.

Father, Son, Holy Spirit?

A professor friend emailed me recently:

I’ve lately been reading a book (at a student’s request) …a piece of bad Christian fiction called “The Shack” by William P. Young. … it might interest you in light of your trinitarian research. The persons of the Trinity make an appearance in the story: God the Father as a large black woman, God the Son as middle-Eastern carpenter (go figure!), and the Holy Spirit as an Asian woman. I’m certain that there’s heresy lurking nearby.

Just thought I’d pass it along. It is apparently gaining some popularity among some segments of the evangelical subculture - hence, my student’s request that I read it. (link and emphases added)

I can’t speak to the book’s artistic merits, but I’ll trust my friend on that. As to theological merits, heresy or not, there’s certainly social trinitarianism lurking nearby! Who would’ve guessed the Divine Society was so “diverse”? At least they let Jesus remain male… And it arguably beats the gay men’s chorus.

According to this much read review, this society is also maximally egalitarian (see the Trinity section of the review).

Update: a more sympathetic review at Christianity Today.

Your average theologian’s response to recent Rational Reinterpretations.

Let me take four recent books off my shelf by current theologians. Now I’ll search through them to see if they have any reference at all to some of the more important Rational Reconstructions in the last 25 years or so, namely:

• Tom Morris’s (1986, 1989) or Richard Swinburne’s two-minds approach to the Incarnation (1994)
• Swinburne’s social trinitarian theory (1994)
• Leftow’s earlier Latin Trinitarian speculations (1999, 2004) and his exploration and penetrating criticisms of various social theories (1999)
• Peter van Inwagen’s relative identity construals of the Incarnation and Trinity (1995)

(To new readers - you can find many earlier posts on Swinburne and Leftow using the search box, below right.) I’m limiting myself to (1) uncontroversially top-notch work, (2) by prominent Christian philosopher-theologians, masters of their craft, that (3) has been out for a while, and which (4) is pretty well known among Christian philosophers. Now, for the search:

McGrath, Christian Theology: An Introduction, 4th. ed. (2007)

• Basically, a complete miss. A passing reference to Swinburne as a great philosophical theologian. McGrath does mention “kenotic” approaches to the Incarnation, which are certainly Rational Reconstructions, but his discussion ends in the 19th century.

Grenz, Rediscovering the Triune God (2004)

• Complete miss. But we’ve got Hegel and Schleirmacher! (Sigh - philosophy has come a long way since then.)

Kärkkäinen, The Trinity: Global Perspectives (2007)

• Despite the fact that all the aforementioned philosopher-theologians have lived their entire lives so far on the Globe, a complete miss. This is the more bitter because of the coverage lavished on some surprisingly bad theories. Kenosis is mentioned a few times.
• Towards the end of the book, he says: “…I would call for a much more sophisticated analysis of the relation of threeness to unity than has been done.” (393, emphasis added) My friend, this has been going in earnest since at least the late 80s, among philosophical theologians, with the pace picking up more recently.

Olson and Hall, The Trinity (2002)

• Granted, this is introductory, but: a total miss. The end point of theorizing here? Zizioulas’s 1983 book.

Mind you, these are all (1) recent books, by (2) theologians specializing in the Trinity, which (3) aim at comprehensiveness, i.e. showing the student where she ought to look further.

None of these are bad books - I’ve found all them useful in various ways, particularly the McGrath. I’m not criticizing these four gentlemen (one deceased) but rather the professional standard they’ve all followed. Folks, this is like biologists ignoring recent and relevant work in chemistry. (Yeah, I know: some theologians think it’s more like astronomers ignoring “developments” in astrology. )

Instead of just complaining about this, I’ll speculate on why theologians, even ones who focus on the Trinity seem completely uninformed about important work in philosophical theology. (Yes, I’m aware of a few exceptions - usually younger guys - but they are rare exceptions, as far as I can tell - I’d like to be wrong about this.)

1. Theology is backward-looking, and this stuff is too recent to be on the radar.
2. Theologians aren’t trained in philosophy, and so find the aforementioned authors very difficult to understand; hence, they avoid them.
3. These writers are not academic theologians, not professors of theology, but theologians are academically insular, in the own little world.
4. They’re spending so much time batting around the unclear work of Rahner and Barth, and other imprecise and long-winded thinkers, they just don’t have time to read philosophical theology.
5. Theologians are simply not very worried about inconsistency or irrationality (or conversely, consistency and rationality), at least concerning the Trinity and the Incarnation.
6. But insofar as they are concerned with consistency, Mysterian Resistance and Redirection are firmly entrenched in academic theology.

Regarding #2 - I believe that systematic theologians should be trained in Philosophy, at least to the equivalent of a B.A.. Also, as more popular level and reference sources cover this stuff, it’ll be inexcusable to be a least a little familiar with it. All the sources I mention are complex but rigorously clearly written.

Regarding #3 - Are philosophers equally insular? I dare say we (who work in philosophical theology) are not. For my part, I’ve got a shelf full of recent books by theologians on the Trinity, but they rarely address issues in which I’m interested. Or if they do, the treatment is… inadequate in various ways. Philosophers developing Trinity theories, in my experience, are often following up on undeveloped leads from recent theologians - particularly in the social camp. And we have no excuse, for there are abundant decently short and clear secondary sources. (Theologians - this will soon be true of philosophical theology as well!)

Regarding #5: I think this is true. Why it is true is another question, and most of the possible answers are not pretty.

Regarding #6: This is a big reason why I think Mysterian Resistance is worth looking into (next post, btw).

So young theologians: if you’re going to work on the Trinity, surf this site, and follow up by reading some of books and articles discussed here. If you stick with standard theology sources, you’re missing out on a whole world of exciting, challenging, relevant stuff. Frankly, your elders have, collectively, let you down by ignoring obviously relevant material. You must, unless you’re working with one of the aforementioned (rare, and usually young) theology profs who are up on recent philosophical theology, fend for yourself.

Next time: the next “R” - Resistance!

Technorati Tags: philosophical theology, theology, Trinity, Grenz, McGrath, Olson, Hall, Trinity, Kärkkäinen, rational reinterpretation, apparent contradiction

The more you think about hard stuff, the more opinions you get. I’ve taught philosophy of religion, modern philosophy, logic, and metaphysics courses, and so I have some fairly developed views. Based on theoretical (and non-theological considerations), here are some things I don’t believe in, because I think they’re impossible:

relative identity relations
constitution relations
group minds
time travel to the past
properties (whether tropes or universals) - yes, I’m a nominalist
persons/selves which are or are “constituted by” relations or relationships
multiple selves that count as one self because they’re so intimately aware of one another’s thoughts

I’m not going to argue these points here. My point is simply that in light of the above metaphysical convictions, I can’t believe in various Rational Reconstructions of the Trinity doctrine. In order corresponding to the above list:

Peter van Inwagen’s or Peter Geach’s relative identity trinitarianism (these we haven’t yet discussed here at trinities)
Brower’s and Rea’s constitution theory
group mind Social Trinitarianism as discussed by Brian Leftow in his “Anti Social Trinitarianism”
Leftow’s version of Latin Trinitarianism
ditto
misc. medieval theories, such as Henry of Ghent’s
some recent versions of Social Trinitarianism

General rule: when any philosopher looks at a Rational Reconstruction of some Christian Doctrine, he finds that Reconstruction unsatisfactory for various reasons. Other than the Two Minds approach to the Incarnation, I can’t think of exceptions to this rule. Anyone? Note that this isn’t even bringing in considerations about the Bible or how the new-fangled theory fits with Tradition.

In sum, one can’t help but admire the cleverness and ingenuity of Rational Reconstructors. Sadly, non-philosophers generally don’t understand such theories or the motivations for them, while other Christian philosophers mostly reject the Rational Reconstruction in question. This is disappointing and disturbing.

Before I move on to Resistance, though, I’d like to ask one more question:

Next time: Why do contemporary theologians ignore all recent Rational Reconstructions?

Technorati Tags: 4 R’s, Rational Reconstruction, Resolution through Rational Reconstruction, Geach, van Inwagen, Rea, Brower, Leftow, Davis, Henry of Ghent, relative identity, constitution, group minds, social trinitarian, time travel, properties, perichoresis

Many recent Christian philosophers have offered what I call Rational Reconstructions of apparently contradictory doctrines such as the Trinity and the Incarnation. Though I’m presently exploring criticisms of such views, let me emphasize that I don’t see anything wrong with what they’re doing, and I think that people with philosophical skills who are Christians ought to use them in any way which is helpful to the Christian community. At bare minimum, these folks are exploring possible views, possible ways to understand the Trinity (etc.). Getting clear about what the options are, and the costs and benefits of each, is an important kind of theoretical progress. Moreover, it shows intellectual integrity and courage, and concern for the truth.

At the end of my last post in the series, I noted that Rational Reconstructors often don’t believe their new version of the Doctrine. In any case, I’ve never seen one that insists that their version is the one which all Christians ought to believe. This latter isn’t surprising - we professors simply don’t have any authority to lay down a theory as required by any Christian community. But it is surprising that these folks are exercising some immense intellectual energy, and writing very involved and difficult pieces expounding views to which they do not commit? What is going on?

Short answer: apologetics. They’re deflecting bullets, as it were, with the theoretical equivalent of Wonder Woman’s super-duper bracelets. They have in mind an opponent of (small-c catholic, orthodox, or “historic”) Christianity who holds that the Doctrine in question is obviously contradictory, or even demonstrably contradictory.

They’re arguing like this:

We can’t rule out that the Doctrine ought to be understood as X.
X might be thought weird, but
X isn’t obviously contradictory, and
X isn’t demonstrably contradictory. (i.e. There’s no argument that X is contradictory such that any sane adult human will regard it as obviously valid and sound.)

Notice, they’re not telling you what the Doctrine means, or what the best way to interpret it is. In a sense, they’re not even, necessarily, revealing what they think this great and true Doctrine is. Rather, they’re showing that the traditional formulas which are taken to express the doctrine can be understood in at least one consistent way, which way they have carefully, with a Philosopher’s skill and precision, laid out, perhaps for the first time.

There are a couple of unsatisfying things about this genre of writing.

1. For one thing, they’re often mere defense. (Not always - sometimes the author does hold forth his new-fangled theory as something we ought to believe.) They just don’t give the inquiring mind anywhere to rest.

2. The opponents are largely imaginary or uninteresting, or they wouldn’t (and shouldn’t) be satisfied with the above style of argument. Permit me to belabor this point (which applies more to non-philosophical apologetics than to the work of philosophical theologians).

• Atheists don’t generally think much about the Trinity or the Incarnation. Why should they? They don’t even believe in theism, and they certainly don’t accept the Bible (or the Church) as an instrument of divine revelation.
• Other supposed opponents are “cultists” and “rationalists”. Now sure, sometimes Jehovah’s Witness or whoever lob an accusation that some Doctrine is patently contradictory. But it’s rare to find a careful thinker or scholar from said group who can make a case for this, a case worth rebutting. The “Rationalist” is a sort of bogeyman who appears in some apologetic and theological writing, who proudly refuses to submit his reason to divine Revelation, and so consequently rejects the Trinity or Incarnation, etc. This generic term is probably meant to cover three kinds of people who engage in theology: the Liberal theologian, the Unitarian, and the Deist. But the first and last simply don’t believe that the Bible (and/or the Church) is (or is a means of) divine revelation. So they just aren’t concerned about doctrines allegedly based on those sources, and pay little attention to the Doctrine. Besides, there basically never has been a sizable Deist movement.
• If “Unitarians” means Unitarian Universalists, they are simply not a Christian movement, and so pay little attention to questions of Christian theology. So, who cares what they think about, say, the Trinity? If this means other (non-UU) unitarians (i.e. people who identify God with the Father) there were, in the 17th to the first half of the 19th c. many sophisticated unitarian Christians, some of whom argued that the Trinity (etc.) is contradictory, but these have fallen almost entirely off the map of current Christian theologians, philosophers, and apologists, basically because there are no large (non-UU) unitarian groups nowadays, in contrast with the late 18th-early 19th centuries, and in any case, these unitarians, just like contemporary “biblical unitarians”, emphasized the (alleged) lack of biblical support for the Trinity and Incarnation doctrines, rather than their (alleged) inconsistency. Note that they hold out for biblical support - they reject appeals to ecumenical councils, or the teaching magisterium, etc. So, their objections aren’t primarily “rationalistic” - but rather exegetical and methodological. But apologetics judo doesn’t and can’t help with those sorts of difficulties. In my scheme of R’s I classify them as Revisers.

3. The biggest limitation, to my mind, is this: It is no great victory if some belief of mine fails to be obviously or demonstrably contradictory. Call this sort of unfortunate claim a Whopper of a Contradiction.

• For one thing, a potential belief may not be a Whopper Contradiction, but there is little to no reason to believe it, or some reason to believe it, but more to disbelieve it.
• Again, a belief may be apparently contradictory to me without being a Whopper of a Contradiction. It may be that every time I carefully consider it, it seems this way. Still, it may not be an obvious or demonstrable contradiction. But it seems I ought not believe it.
• Again, if a say words that are unintelligible, or have a vague belief, what I say can’t be a Whopper of a Contradiction.
• Arguably, no substantial religious beliefs turn out to be a Whopper. If something was obviously contradictory, few intelligent people would believe it. And philosophers know that few things are demonstrable (provable) - when we keep in mind the technical sense of “demonstrable” explained above. Usually, the argument won’t get very far before there’s a premise which a reasonable person could deny.

In sum, these arguments (that said Doctrine is not a Whopper Contradiction) are generally pretty effective, because they aim so low, but they are not terribly helpful to the thinking Christian trying to decide what to think of the Doctrine, i.e. to decide on its proper meaning and justification. At the end we’re left with only a possible contender for a way to understand the Doctrine in question (if you can get your head around it).

Next time: one last problem with Resolution through Rational Reinterpretation.

Technorati Tags: 4 R’s, contradiction, Rational Reinterpretation, Resolution through Rational Reinterpretation, unitarian, biblical unitarians, deism, liberal theology, Unitarian Universalism, Whopper of a Contradiction, contradiction, Bible

Last time we highlighted one problem with Resolution through Rational Reinterpretation - often, only a metaphysician could love the new-fangled (but precise and seemingly consistent) version of the Doctrine in question. A second concern is that many believers think this “new version of” the Doctrine just ain’t that doctrine at all, but a knock-off - something similar, but different, and moreover, not genuine.

Consider these pronouncements of the First Vatican Council of 1869-70:

…that meaning of the sacred dogmas is ever to be maintained which has once been declared by holy mother church, and there must never be any abandonment of this sense under the pretext or in the name of a more profound understanding.

May understanding, knowledge and wisdom increase as ages and centuries roll along, and greatly and vigorously flourish, in each and all, in the individual and the whole church: but this only in its own proper kind, that is to say, in the same doctrine, the same sense, and the same understanding

…

4. On faith and reason … 3. If anyone says that it is possible that at some time, given the advancement of knowledge, a sense may be assigned to the dogmas propounded by the Church which is different from that which the Church has understood and understands: let him be anathema.**break* (emphases added, source)

Note that it doesn’t say the new way of understanding, e.g. the Trinity, must be incompatible with the old way. Rather, it is bad enough that it is different! And these rational reconstructions basically always are, being more precise than what certain 2nd, 4th, 5th, 13th, 16th (etc.) century bishops or other theologians had in mind. Further, attempts to show that certain historical theologians or councils really meant this new-fangled thing are generally unconvincing. (e.g. Swinburne’s and Wierenga’s attempts to square their social trinitarianism with the Constantinopolitan and “Athanasian” creeds, or Peter Geach’s attribution of relative identity trinitarianism to Thomas Aquinas)

That is one problem that some conservative believers and theologians have with Rational Reinterpretation - the mere newness of it. If you think the actual and entire (understandable) content of the doctrine was revealed at some past time, then there’s little positive theoretical work for clever folks nowadays to do. This sort of attitude recalls medieval Muslim terminology for heretics - they call them “Innovators”.

But many Christian thinkers seem to take a view that God led the Church into the correct language, and sort of in the right direction conceptually, so that things might indeed be sorted out and made more precise later (although probably not by some smarty-pants American Christian philosophy professor - surely an august council of bishops would be called into action - or at least a long-winded German theologian).

But others aren’t so extreme - they admit the possibility of theological progress in these latter days. They rather object that the Rational Reconstruction is in fact unorthodox. Keep in mind that all such aim to be orthodox and advertise themselves as such (or at least, as not obviously unorthodox). But many object that the new-fangled version of the doctrine in fact falls into some historical heresy - modalism, trithesm, monophysitism, etc. Or one may argue that the Reconstruction in fact leaves out part of what the Bible teaches. For example, in this worthy book, theologian James Anderson repeatedly uses this hammer on a raft of recent attempts at Rational Reinterpretation.

Finally, some object that the Rational Reconstruction wrongheadedly “removes the mystery”. This, I take it, is an objection given by people devoted, more or less, to a kind of Resistance, which I’ll discuss a few posts from now.

But there’s an interesting little dance that people often do when offering a Rational Reconstruction - they say that they don’t intend to “remove the mystery” from it - or at least all of it. This is partly an admission that there are still serious difficulties left, even if their new theory is on track. But they also often hint or outright say that they don’t believe their own Rational Reconstruction at all, or at least, they don’t consider it to be the only or the obviously best way to understand that doctrine?

Which raises the subject of my next post:

Why care about Rational Reconstructions? (What are these guys doing, if not offering something we Christian ought to believe?)

Technorati Tags: 4 R’s, Rational Reconstruction, Resolution through Rational Reconstruction, James Anderson, Mystery, removing the mystery, theological innovation, Innovation, Innovators, heresy

What, if anything, is wrong with with the strategy of Resolution through Rational Reinterpretation? And why are most theologians so cold towards this strategy, while most Christian philosophers love it? Consider this quote by Moses Stuart on one of Leibniz’s takes on the Trinity:

The celebrated Leibniz was requested by a Loefler, who had undertaken to refute the writings of a certain English Antitrinitarian, to give him an affirmative definition of the persons in the Godhead. He sent for answer the following: - “Several persons in an absolute substance numerically the same, signify several, particular, intelligent substances essentially related.” On farther consideration, he abandoned this, and sent a second, which was, - “Several persons, in an absolute substance numerically the same, mean relative, incommunicable modes of subsisting.”

If Leibniz actually understood this, I believe he must have been a better master of metaphysics than any person who has ever read his definition. In fact, he does not himself appear to have been satisfied with it; for, not long after, he wrote as follows: - “We must say, that there are relations in the divine substance, which distinguish the persons, since these persons cannot be absolute substances. But we must aver, too, that these relations are substantial. At least, we must say that the Divine Persons are not the same Concrete, under different denominations or relations; as a man may be, at the same time, both a poet and an orator. We must say, moreover, that the three Persons are not as absolute substances as the whole.”

This is somewhat better than either of his former attempts, inasmuch as it is confined principally to description of a negative kind. Yet, after all, I obtain by it no additional light upon the subject which is important. (Channing vs. Stuart on the Trinity and the Incarnation, part 2, pp. 37-8, emphases added)

Leibniz, by the way, was a very great metaphysician and logician (and more). But Leibniz’s new-fangled (as of the late 17th c.) take on the Trinity is something, arguably, that only a metaphysician could love. Stuart, a very smart man (and practitioner of what I call Mysterian Resistance), looks at Leibniz’s words and pretty much draws a blank. I, a philosophy professor who works on philosophy of religion and early modern philosophy, couldn’t do a whole lot better. Further, it is not clear that Leibniz’s claim that relations can be substantial is consistent with his own views about relations and substances, as this recent book mentions. (pp. 157-8) So if Leibniz has scored any victory here, it’s one that pretty much only he could appreciate, and maybe not even him! (This is why he tries out a lot of other moves as well…)

I should hasten to add, though, that a few rational reconstructions do end up being fairly popular, at least within certain highly educated circles. This, then is one problem with Resolution through Rational Reconstruction: it takes quite a lot of tutoring for people to understand the claims being made, and many, be they laymen or theologians (or even other philosophical theologians) just don’t understand the new version of the doctrine being offered. Or maybe they do understand it, but find it about as problematic as what we started with. (Stuart’s confession that he “gains no additional light” from Leibniz’s speculations could mean either or both of these.)

But the difficulties don’t stop here.

Next time: Theological Innovation: bad or good?

Technorati Tags: Leibniz, Antognazza, Trinity, Incarnation, relations, Moses Stuart, 4 R’s, absolute substance, relative substance, Resolution, Rational Reinterpretation, Resolution Through Rational Reinterpretation

We’ve looked so far at two ways Christians may respond to apparently contradictory doctrines: Redirection and Restraint. We now move on to a third strategy: Resolution. In brief, the Resolver holds that the apparent contradiction can be banished, made to disappear. She doesn’t change the subject (as the Redirector), or claim ignorance of the doctrine’s meaning (as with Restraint).

But how is the seeming contradiction smoothed away? Take the Incarnation doctrine: Jesus is both God and man, which seems to imply being God and not, and being a man and not. The Revising Resolver just denies part of the Doctrine in question - here, either that Jesus is God, or that he’s a human. Problem solved - apparent contradiction resolved! But, many believers will consider this change way too radical - a cure worse than the disease. I’ll come back to Revising Resolvers later in the series. Here I want to focus on Resolution through Rational Reinterpretation.

This way of responding to apparently contradictory doctrines ought to have the official SCP seal of approval, for many prominent Christian philosophers have employed it liberally. Interestingly, I see little awareness of, appreciation for, or sympathy for their considerable efforts among theologians. I believe this is because the theology crowd is in the habit of Redirection and Resistance, and still suffers from the crippling 19th century denigration of the place of reason in the spiritual and theological life, as well as from the many bad habits of modern German philosophy. But I digress. In the rest of this post, I’ll just cite some famous examples - well known to Christian philosophers, but not to theologians or to wider Christian public.

Basically all the recent Trinity theories we’ve covered here - Leftow, Swinburne, Brower and Rea, Moreland and Craig, fall into this camp. (New readers - to find these previous posts, just use the Search box on the right hand side of this page.) Another example would be Peter van Inwagen’s exploration of relative identity trinitarianism, briefly discussed in my Unfinished Business paper, p. 14-5. The basic pattern goes like this: yes, at first glance, the Doctrine looks inconsistent. But, why not understand the Doctrine as X? X seems consistent, and moreover pretty defensible.

Philosophers believe in the power of reason, and these are attempts to solve theological problems by the application of metaphysical and logical ingenuity.

Another famous example we haven’t discussed would be the “two minds” approach to the Incarnation doctrine. Jesus has the divine nature, as well as a complete human nature, body, and soul. But, there is one person there - not two or three. And this one person is the Son, the second member of the Trinity. This bristles with problems, of course, and Morris gamely takes them on one by one in his deservedly famous book, The Logic of God Incarnate. The central move, is to say that Jesus’s having two natures amounts to (1) his having two minds, a divine and a human one, where the first has complete access to the second, whereas the second has limited access to the contents of the first, (2) and his having one set of causal and cognitive powers. This version of the Incarnation doctrine, whatever its final merits, seems consistent. (Or, at least it doesn’t seem inconsistent.) So, problem solved, right?

Next time: problems with Rational Reinterpretation.

Technorati Tags: 4 R’s, Rational Reinterpretation, Resolution, Resolution through Rational Reinterpretation, Incarnation, Tom Morris, Trinity, Society of Christian Philosophers

A story about implicit faith…

Once upon a time, there was a virtuous and patriotic Russian peasant named Georgy. Georgy lived a simple life among simple people, in a village so far out in the boondocks of the USSR that World War II - what Russians call the Great Patriotic War - passed by practically unnoticed. The farming life had treated Georgy and his family well, and he had only good thoughts towards the great leader of his country, Comrade Stalin.

After a particularly vicious and thorough purge, Stalin’s government found itself in need of new secret police agents. Being vigorous, patriotic, single, and malleable, one of Stalin’s recruiters focused on Georgy. (He overlooked Georgy’s moral goodness.) Hearing about this exciting and rewarding career, Georgy was strongly inclined to make the deal.

Georgie’s friend Artem, however, was more cautious. “Georgy - are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you’ll be expected to do,say and believe a lot of things you haven’t yet imagined.”

“Sure - well, that’s the excitement of it. What’s there to worry about? I love the Motherland. So does Uncle Joe.”

“Well, Georgy, are you a communist?”

“What’s that?”

After a stunned silence, Artem continued. “Georgy, do you believe in the collective ownership of the means of production?”

“If Uncle Joe is in favor of that, then so am I. I’m quite into collecting myself. Stamps, for instance.”

“Georgy, that’s a very, um, loyal and patriotic attitude, but how can you be sure that when you find out all of Comrade Stalin’s policies, you’ll agree with them, or at least be willing to carry them out? I mean, saying that you’ll do this when you find out about them is one thing, wanting that to happen is another, but really being inclined that way is another. How do you know you actually are inclined that way, my friend?”

“My dear Artem, I have implicit faith in Uncle Joe, and in all he stands for. I believe whatever he does.”

“But how do you know that you won’t disagree, or just not agree, when you find out in detail what our Comrade Leader believes?”

“I just do. I just love Uncle that much.”

“What if he tells you that the sky is green?”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“But if he did, Georgy, would you believe him?”

“No.”

“But for all you know, he believes it, Georgy. If so, you don’t believe everything Uncle Joe does, though you say you do, and you wish you did.”

“That’s exactly what I do wish. I’m going to sign up now.” And he did.

Being as morally upright as he was uninformed, Georgy’s career in Stalin’s secret police was brief, although he went out “with a bang”.

Technorati Tags: implicit faith, faith, explicit faith, 4 R’s

Who are you calling dumb? (image credit)

We’re exploring the response of Restraint - when confronted with an apparently contradictory doctrine, might it not be a good idea for the believer to simply admit that she doesn’t know what it means? Last time we looked at the idea of “implicit faith”. What, if anything, is wrong with this? Consider this exchange:

Doubter: Do you believe X?
Believer: Heck yeah.
Doubter: Doesn’t X appear to be inconsistent with itself?
Believer: Um, yes.
Doubter: But then X seems false to you. How can you believe it?
Believer: I don’t claim to understand X. Rather, I have implicit faith in the Church. She teaches X, and I trust her, so in a sense, I believe X as well.
Doubter: No, you don’t believe it - you don’t grasp the content of the doctrine X.
Believer: Let’s not quarrel over words. I’m committed to X, because I’m committed to whatever Mother Church teaches, and she in fact teaches X (whatever it is). In her language, I “implicitly believe” X.

This would be a good place to bring in one of the greatest philosophers (and theologians) of all time: St. Thomas Aquinas (aka “The Dumb Ox”). He voices an objection to the “implicit faith” doctrine, then answers it.

Objection 3. Further, if the simple are bound to have, not explicit but only implicit faith, their faith must needs be implied in the faith of the learned. But this seems unsafe, since it is possible for the learned to err. Therefore it seems that the simple should also have explicit faith; so that all are, therefore, equally bound to have explicit faith.

[Now Aquinas answers Objection 3] On the contrary, … I answer that, The unfolding of matters of faith is the result of Divine revelation: for matters of faith surpass natural reason. Now Divine revelation reaches those of lower degree through those who are over them… just as the higher angels, who enlighten those who are below them, have a fuller knowledge of Divine things than the lower angels, as Dionysius states (Coel. Hier. xii), so too, men of higher degree, whose business it is to teach others, are under obligation to have fuller knowledge of matters of faith, and to believe them more explicitly.

…Reply to Objection 3. The simple have no faith implied in that of the learned, except in so far as the latter adhere to the Divine teaching. Hence the Apostle says (1 Corinthians 4:16): “Be ye followers of me, as I also am of Christ.” Hence it is not human knowledge, but the Divine truth that is the rule of faith: and if any of the learned stray from this rule, he does not harm the faith of the simple ones, who think that the learned believe aright; unless the simple hold obstinately to their individual errors, against the faith of the universal Church, which cannot err, since Our Lord said (Luke 22:32): “I have prayed for thee,” Peter, “that thy faith fail not.” (source)

The objection here is: one ought not just commit to “whatever those learned guys think” because learned guys sometimes go wrong, believing falsehoods. (Every philosopher knows this is a huge understatement!) One at least ought to know to what one is committing.

Aquinas’s answer, if I understand it, is this. Ditchdigger Dan commits to whatever Pedro the priest teaches, insofar as Pedro’s beliefs match infallible church teaching. But that “insofar” clause is weasly, it seems to me. We’re concerned with truth here - isn’t it risky and unreasonable to just commit to whatever Pedro thinks? Sure, ’cause Pedro is fallible. So we’re basically saying, Ditchdigger Dan only commits to the true parts of what Pedro thinks. Now, if this is what Dan is doing, he can’t really go wrong. Dan could commit to whatever Johnny Rotten thinks, “insofar as Johnny adheres to divine teaching.” Or Paris Hilton.

But wait - this is nuts. When you take someone as a sort of epistemic exemplar, you don’t merely commit abstractly to what they believe (or truly believe). You listen to them, and are strongly inclined to accept their testimony. You use them as a reference source. So it matters a great deal whether you pick Pedro or Paris, the Pope or Calvin, Jesus or David Koresh. And presumably God will hold Dan accountable for his choice. I don’t see that Aquinas gives a good answer to his objection 3.

In any case, according to Aquinas himself the whole Restraint stance, even with “implicit faith”, won’t do, when it comes to some central (and famously problematic) Christian doctrines. He says the Incarnation and the Trinity doctrines can’t be only implicitly believed - at least, not if you want to be saved.

Next time: Resolution. A Stalinist story about implicit belief.

Technorati Tags: Thomas Aquinas, Aquinas, 4 R’s, St. Thomas, Restraint, implicit faith, faith, explicit faith

Nothing objectionable in there…

One way to deal with an apparently contradictory doctrine in your religion is the response of Restraint. There’s a connection here, with the medieval Catholic doctrine of “implicit faith”, so I thought I’d explore it a little, and in my next post, I’ll apply this to the issue of Restraint in the face of an apparent contradiction. I welcome any Catholic friends out there to add to or correct what I say here.

This term (fides implicitas) pops up frequently in 16th-19th century non- (O.K. anti-) Catholic material, and it is easy to ridicule. I have the impression that it was a popular teaching both at the scholarly and popular level in late medieval Catholicism, but at least according to this Cardinal, more recent Catholic thought has steered away from it:

Wisely, in my opinion, the popes and councils have avoided talk about implicit faith, a term that is vague and ambiguous. (Avery Cardinal Dulles, in “Who Can Be Saved?” in First Things magazine)

In the current Catholic Catechism I could find only one reference to it, so while it hasn’t been repudiated, it seems that (at least at the official level) it is not put to much use.

In any case, “implicit faith” in a doctrine is where you don’t believe that doctrine, but you have some state of mind such that it’s as good (for some purpose) as if you did believe it. If one holds, with the “Athanasian” Creed that

Whosoever will be saved, before all things it is necessary that he hold the catholic faith; Which faith except every one do keep whole and undefiled, without doubt he shall perish everlastingly.

and one interprets “holding the catholic faith” as believing all of its core doctrines, or some core of these, then people who have never heard those doctrines, or loyal laypeople who are too stupid, busy, or uneducated to do this are out of luck. And that seems a bit harsh. So, “implicit faith” to the rescue! Doug the ditch-digger may be saved. And some Christian circa 200 C.E. didn’t believe the Chalcedonian two-natures doctrine, but he did “implicitly believe” it, because he committed himself to believe whatever the Church says, and it was saying things which logically implied that doctrine. And perhaps the pius Buddhist enjoys something similar.

My own view is that talk of “implicit belief” isn’t helpful, for it isn’t a kind of belief. Rather, one is admitting that belief in these doctrines isn’t, for some folks at least, necessary for salvation, and asserting that God will accept something else from them.

Apparently, in at least in late medieval and early modern times some theologians applied to this issue of “mysteries” such as the Trinity and Incarnation. Is it of any help? Ought we to say that simple folk needn’t believe in, say, the Trinity, because they have “implicit faith” whatever the Church (or if you like, the Bible) teaches? This is a possibility worth exploring.

Next time: a “Dumb Ox” on Restraint and “implicit belief”.

Technorati Tags: implicit faith, faith, Catholic Catechism, mysteries, apparent contradictions

Last time we briefly explored Redirection, the first of our four ways to respond to apparent contradictions in theology.

The response of Restraint is a little more reasonable. This person realizes that a certain way of understanding, say, the doctrine of the Trinity, seems inconsistent. The Christian walking the path of Restraint declines to endorse that way of understanding the Trinity, or any other clear formulation. “Sure, if it meant X, then it would seem contradictory… but maybe it doesn’t mean X.”

The Restrained believer neither affirms nor denies X, exercising Restraint . He declines to say precisely what the great Doctrine in question is, because (he says) he doesn’t know what it is supposed to be. Of course, he’ll say he’s committed to the truth of whatever it is that’s supposed to be expressed by the traditional formulas of the Doctrine, and he doesn’t rule out that others who are holier and/or more informed have understood it - not just endorsing words, but also grasping the truths they express.

The main thing to say about Restraint is that it’s perfectly reasonable as an initial move, but nowhere to pitch camp. It is only a way of stalling. Stalling is often reasonable; no one has time to look into every difficulty, and we have a lot more to do than develop our theological thinking. The Restrained believer is saying that he believes, hopes, or is somehow committed to certain sentences expressing truth, but isn’t aware of what that truth is.

Fair enough. One should be spurred on, though, by three concerns. First, some people have claimed to discern various important truths in those sentences. So, one should seek to find the same. Second, the sentences in question could be fool’s gold - it could be that they really express only falsehood. One needs to rule this out, to avoid forming false beliefs. Third, maybe the sentences express nothing - maybe they are unintelligible, non-understandable. If so, whatever their value, they won’t be a means of believing, thinking, or expressing truths. Again, this needs to be ruled out.

So while Restraint is initially an expression of intellectual humility (one doesn’t just jump to dismiss a doctrine at the first sign of a problem), eventually it becomes an irresponsible stance, for the three reasons just given.

(In my “Unfinished business of Trinitarian theorizing” I more specifically address some kinds of Restraint about the Trinity in particular. (pages 3, 24-7 in this preprint version).)

Next time: Restraint and “implicit faith”.

Technorati Tags: Restraint, mystery, apparent contradiction, paradox, theological paradox, intellectual humility

Technorati Tags: Redirection, 4 R’s, apparent contradiction, mystery, red herring

This chart has been brought to you by the letter “R” and the number “4″.

In this series I’ll describe 4 basic ways Christian thinkers respond to apparent contradictions in theology. I don’t claim these are complete. Maybe ya’ll can help me clarify and add to this scheme.

I’ve been working for a while on what I call “mysterianism”, and a main purpose of mine here is to locate this defense strategy and contrast it with others. (Mysterianism is a kind of Resistance.)

Above is my basic division. Future posts will give more detail, but here’s a brief illustration of each sort of response.

Technorati Tags: 4 R’s, Redirection, Restraint, Resistance, Resolution, apparent contradicton, mystery, paradox, theological paradoxes, mysterianism

“Sounds good to me!” (image credit)

Whoever says he believes what he does not at all understand, knows not what belief is, knows also not what he believes; and therefore, he believes in fact nothing, but it only seems to him [he believes]… Certainly nobody can believe something other than what he considers true… If reason is not necessary to grasp the articles of faith, then consequently it follows that the articles of faith should be presented to irrational animals… especially those which can imitate the human voice like parrots.

– Andrew Wissowatius (a.k.a. Wiszowaty), Die Vernunfftige Religion [1703 German translation of his Latin Religio Rationalis of 1685], quoted in and translated by Maria Rosa Antognazza, Leibniz on the Trinity and the Incarnation, p. 270 n. 18 [slashes omitted and commas and bold added by me]

]]> http://trinities.org/blog/archives/362/feed http://trinities.org/blog/archives/336 http://trinities.org/blog/archives/336#comments Tue, 10 Jun 2008 12:24:00 +0000 Dale http://trinities.org/blog/?p=336

Saith Grok: “Love thy neighbor, and buyest thou all thine goods at WalMart.”

Is Allah God? Are Christians and Muslims talking about (numerically) the same God? We’ve previously linked and joined in with discussions with Jeremy Pierce and with Kevin Corcoran.

To further the discussion, I present a tale to explain why I think it doesn’t matter whether or not “God” (used by Christians) and “Allah” (used by Muslims) refer to the same being.

A kind and generous woman named Sophie decides to sponsor two children through World Vision. She offers to give to children from “wherever the need is greatest”, and weeks later, a letter reveals that she is the new sponsor of two brothers from some third-world country she’s never heard of. Their names are Goofus and Gallant, and they are identical twins.

Each month, Sophie sends off a generous check, along with a note. She’s not sure about the boys’ religious affiliation, so she sticks with good general advice, which she hopes will apply no matter what. “Treat others as you want them to treat you.” “Forgive others, just as you are forgiven.” “Love and serve the Creator.” “Love one another.”

She also sends kind little notes every so often. “I love you.” “You’re growing to be so big!” “Hope to meet you some day.”

Sophie doesn’t know this, but Goofus and Gallant are rather confused about their benefactor. They (correctly) believe that their benefactor is a rich, English-speaking being who lives far away, but some silly playground talk, the occasional television show, and some translation problems leads them to believe the following things about their benefactor - about the source of their support and the occasional notes and letters:

1. He is a space alien with green tentacles, who must wear a bulbous glass helmet when visiting the earth.
2. Once, probably, he killed a kitten. Or something like that.
3. He and his planet mates once invaded the Earth, but were repelled by a bartender wielding a board with a nail in it.
4. He’s a shape-shifter. In addition to his usual form, he could appear, say, as a middle-aged caucasian American woman.

Goofus and Gallant often discussed their benefactor, whom they referred to (no one knows why) as “Grok”. They had very different attitudes about Grok. Gallant loves Grok and is grateful to him. He hopes that some day he can somehow return Grok’s love, and eagerly desires to meet him. Every week he writes Grok a letter, telling Grok about his day, and writing out his hopes, dreams, and fears. He has a large stash of these, saved for a hoped-for future delivery to Grok.

Goofus hates Grok. His dark imagination conjures up some evil motives which he attributes to Grok (something about WalMart, global hegemony, and soylent green), and each of “Grok’s” (in fact, Sophie’s) letters to Goofus are greeted with (1) spit, (2) toilet paper usage, and (3) burning (of course, always in that order). Goofus ignores the copious benefits flowing from “Grok”, ignores or maliciously reinterprets the monthly notes, and in fact hates Grok so much that he will try to kill anyone who so much as says a good word about Grok.

Ten years pass this way, and Goofus and Gallant are now graduating from high school. Sophie decides that she’ll surprise “her boys” by attending their graduation. She buys a ticket to their country, and boards the plane with presents, a loving heart, and ten year’s worth of longing.

When she arrives, will she care whether or not “Grok” (spoken by Goofus and Gallant) refers to her? No.

• If not, she’ll accept Gallant’s letters as if they were written to her. This country is very backwards, so she doesn’t blame Gallant for his mistaken beliefs about the imaginary “Grok”. She’ll treat Gallant as if he’d loved her, and not the imaginary “Grok”.
• If “Grok” has all along referred to her, she’ll accept Gallant just the same.
• Either way, she’ll find Goofus unacceptable. Has he hated merely an imaginary character? If so, still, he’s made himself the sort of person who would hate Sophie if informed that she were in fact his World Vision sponsor. Or wa