More Pre-modernism

It's about time for another installment in my series of explanations on 'pre-modernism'. Just to refresh some memories, it's not about going back to belief in a flat earth and blood-letting. There was an understanding of reality in the pre-modern, Judeo-Christian world, that was much more accurate than the modern world. Our views of things are so colored by the modern, or post-modern assumptions we make that we can't recognize our own biases.

What I'm about to say is going to ruffle some feathers. Some people definitely won't like it. That's ok. Let me hear about it.

I'm going to start by just coming out with the controversial part, then I'll go back and explain. That might take a little while. But here we go.

Conservative Christians have come to believe they are fighting against the modern world which tries to explain away the Bible. The modern world doesn't believe in miracles, so the miraculous parts of the Bible were obviously made up. So they say. The problem with the Christian response is that it often --usually-- relies on some of the same modern assumptions that are used to criticize the Bible. What happens is that the Christian ends up defending the Bible on the grounds that, "God can get His facts straight."

That is just simply not acceptable. There are good arguments on both sides of debates about which passages in scripture are historical and which are literary. Both certainly exist, which can be easily demonstrated. The historical truth of the existence of King David, the accuracy of the gospel of Luke, etc, and many other points on which the historical facts do back up the Bible. Then there are parts of the Bible that are obviously poetic or symbolic. In the Psalms, and by Jesus in the N.T., God is described as a chicken who cares for her chicks. And in Psalm 57 David says, "In the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge." Does that mean God is a great big Chicken?

Then there are cases that are more difficult to determine. Genesis, Jonah, Job, Daniel, Revelation, just to name a few. I believe there are good arguments for why different passages may be historical/literal or more 'literary', on both sides. And I don't have all those points figured out. Even if I did, it is often of less importance than applying the passages to our lives. But nevertheless, it is a mistake to use the argument, either directly or as a hidden premise, that "God can get his facts straight."

As I explain myself I'll be covering some ground we've covered before. As we went from predominantly pre-modern to modern, the meaning of 'fact' changed. There was also a corresponding change in the meaning of 'objective.' The original meaning of 'objective' was that something had it's origin outside of an individual's mind. For example, it is 'objectively' true that adultery is wrong. This is something determined by God, who is the law giver, the one who decides right and wrong. It isn't something I think is true because I happen to prefer it to be true. It really is. But the modern understanding of 'objective' is different. The word now means that something is true, "and I can show it to you." The modern world only accepts as 'objective' those things that can be demonstrated empirically, through the senses.

The same thing happened to the word 'fact.' Facts today deal with only material and measurable things. So, it may be a 'fact' that the earth goes around the sun, but it cannot be a 'fact' that adultery is wrong. It can be a preference or an opinion, but not a fact. To a modern mind many of the realities of life are optional opinions because of the way 'fact' as been defined.

This is also tied together with the modern misunderstanding of cause and effect. I've pointed out before that to really understand something you have to understand it in 4 different ways. Things have formal, final, material, and efficient causes, not just one cause. In the modern way of understanding there is only 1 category of causes, and it's a hybrid cause, a combination of the material and efficient. The modern world has done away with formal and final causes, that is, design, meaning, and purpose.

What happens when conservatives go to interpret the Bible, all too often, is we start with the unspoken premise that "God can get his facts straight." But it involves a modern mindset, that puts the entire emphasis on material causes. This limits our ability to understand what God is telling us. I don't know for sure whether creation happened in 6 days, billions of years, or somewhere in between. I tend to think it took a long time. I also think there are some good arguments both ways. But I also think that God was not writing/inspiring with the modern misconception of the word fact. Ironically, sometimes as we try to prove the modern world wrong, by the argument we use we end up agreeing with them.

More to come.

Chuck,

Those are good questions. I'm afraid I don't have a great explanation of 'circular' thought processes as it relates to ancient Hebrew thought or Native American thought. That's partly why I said, "Please don't dwell on that analogy too long, or try to take it to far." But it is probably worth exploring.

I'm not sure that type of 'circular' as opposed to 'linear' thought is the same thing as 'circular' reasoning, but they may be related, so I think we can start there. Circular reasoning is basically when you assume your conclusion is true in one of your premises, and use that to prove your conclusion. As an informal logical fallacy it is known as 'begging the question.' But we think of circular arguments as 'fallacious' and don't give them the credit they are due. It isn't without merit, sometimes, to have a circular argument because it can show that your position is consistent, or it can help you restate your conclusion in another way, which might help someone else understand your position better. Where a circular argument falls short is when you are claiming to 'prove' that your position is true by way of a circular argument.

Here's a real life example of circular reasoning:

"The healthcare system in the US is not as good as in other countries because it is not socialized. Therefore, since socialized medicine is better, the US should change it's healthcare system to be more like other countries."

The World Health Organization actually does this. They rate the US low for it's health care and claim to show the US needs to become more socialized. But the rating process is designed to give high marks for socialized systems and low marks for those that aren't. So are they are really saying is, "We like socialized medicine!"

I'm not so sure the Greeks were purely linear in their thinking. I think they were more comprehensive than that. The fact that they consider 4 causes instead of 1 or 2 is an example. Linear thinking shows up both in logical progressions and cause and effect relationships. An example in cause and effect is 'cue stick strikes cue ball, which strikes another ball, which gets to a pocket, then is acted on by gravity...' The more comprehensive explanation of cause and effect would mention the intentions and purposes of an agent with a mind and a cue stick who has in mind some strategy (why did he hit that ball that direction), along with things like 'entertainment.'

So, a linear thought process is like a chain. Each proposition (in logic) or each event(physics) is just connected to the next like links in a chain. It's just 1-dimensional. Circular reasoning (whatever that is) might be like the chain looping around back on itself. It's 2-dimensional. But a more comprehensive process wouldn't involve just a chain with links, but each link being attached to links above and below it. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Chain mail is a whole fabric made of links that support each other in many directions, and the fabric can be wrapped around and connected together to be 3D.

Here's an example using the ontological argument. Some people claim there is a circular nature to the argument because, so the argument goes, the only people who would agree that "It is possible that a greatest possible being exists," are people who are already prone to believe there is a God. So you are assuming what you are proving. But that's not true. There are an enormous number of other things in life that support the idea that God is at least possible. There are other arguments based on natural theology like the cosmological arguments, design arguments, moral law arguments, personal experiences of many people, historical arguments, etc, etc. All these things, and more, point to the fact that the existent of God is 'possible' at a minimum. So the ontological argument isn't really circular after all. The first premise is just one ring in the chain mail shirt that has support from several other rings.

There is no one point of view of reality that removes all doubt or all mystery. Whether you are a Christian, an atheist, a Hindu, Muslim, or whatever, there are going to be some difficulties at some level. For a Christian, the Trinity is a mystery and difficult to understand. As David Stove, the atheist who wrote Darwinian Fairytales, says, "Or rather, to tell the truth, it's "triune" God has been its Achilles' heel all along, and a perpetual source of scandal, ... to the countless sensible Christians who cannot help thinking that 3 and 1 are different numbers." The problem is that rejecting the Trinity causes countless other problems, and at the end of the day accepting that as a location of mystery, and recognizing that "3 in 1" is just a metaphor, answers far more than it brings into question. So the point isn't to have a system of thought that removes all doubt and questions, but one that answers things better than all the rest. Christian thought is a shirt of mail that has far fewer weak spots than any other. Besides, a good shirt has a few holes it for your head and arms. (Maybe that's what God means by 'holy'. Sorry, just a bad joke.)

I know my explanation of circular thought leaves something to be desired. If anyone else can explain that better please post it. Michal gave me a book for Christmas about a Norwegian commando who was hunted by the Nazis in WWII. He ended up escaping with the help of the Lapps, the reindeer herders in northern Scandinavia. They apparently also have a sort of circular way of thinking. When I get a chance I'll go back and look at that.

The more I think about it, maybe circular in this case just means, "not linear."

Cory,

I'm not sure I get the chain mail shirt, but I get the idea of looking at things in 3D. That's simply reality. That's seeing things as they really are.

I've always had trouble with the linear vs cyclical thought patterns that I hear about. Some say, Hebrew, is a circular or cyclical thought process unlike Greek. But I don't understand that. Can you pretend that I'm an 8th grader, no wait, a 4th grader, and give me an illustration of linear Vs Circular thought. What would linear thought look like on a particular issue or subject, verse how it would look in a circular one. Does this make sense?

Chuck

More Pre-Modernism

More than once I've mentioned that I'm more 'pre-modern' than 'modern' or 'post-modern.' The last post about the ontological argument provided a good example of what pre-modern thought might look like. I've thought of a couple more examples of what pre-modern thought is like. Just so you don't think I'm planning on going back to horses and wagons, or that I believe the earth is flat, I want to share another example.

It has been said that westerners think linearly, with thoughts moving from one to another like a chain, and other people, like American Indians, think in a circular path. Some people think this explains why our cultures are so different. There may be something to that, I don't know, but the analogy works for our purposes. In light of the last post, I believe both the linear and the circular paths are incomplete. The best way of thinking is in 3-D. I mean that our ideas should fit together like that chain mail shirt mentioned in the last post.

Please don't dwell on that analogy too long, or try to take it too far. It's just that the chain mail shirt is still coming in handy for descriptive purposes. One of the most prominent characteristics of modern thought is it's linear nature, and this carries over into modern descriptions of cause and effect. This has significant influence on many aspects of our lives, including politics, religion, medicine, ethics, etc.

The pre-modern understanding was that to understand the cause of something you had to know 4 different causes. These are the material, efficient, formal, and final causes. An easy example of this is to consider a statue. The material cause is the marble or wood, or whatever it is made out of. The efficient cause is the sculptor. The formal cause is the design or plan in the sculptor's mind. And finally, (no pun intended) the final cause is the purpose of the statue (ie to beautify the city, or whatever).

The problem with the modern way of thinking is that it only deals with the first 1 or 2 of those causes. Usually, all there is to know from a modern perspective is the material the thing is made of. As far as science goes, the interaction of matter is all that is needed to explain cause and effect, or so we are told. Modern science sometimes allows for efficient causes, and sometimes not. Often the material world is considered explanation enough, as the material universe is the efficient cause.

Here's why it matters. That is what Darwinism, among other things, is all about. There is no design, purpose, or final plan for anything in biology, to a Darwinist. Once in a while you'll here someone in medical school take Darwinism to it's logical end and deny, for instance, that the purpose of the heart is to pump blood. It just happens to be a muscle that contracts in such a way to pump blood. But it really all happened as an accident. Fortunately, few people can continue thinking this way, even if they don't understand where the faulty thinking is. It is clear to most people that the reason we have cardiologists is because some people's heart don't behave the way the ought to.

Another way of saying this is that the modern way of viewing things is reductionistic. The explanation of everything is just an explanation of the material parts. If you understand the physics and chemistry of a human body you've explained all there is to explain. In medical school reductionism rears it's ugly head all the time. Fortunately, in my experience most people in medicine have at least some understanding that people are more than the sum of their parts. But they still have a tainted view of people and their souls. The most obvious example I can think of reductionism in medicine is in the way abortion is handled. An unborn baby is just 'products of conception'. Also, in neuroscience reductionism plays a big role. The standard view in neuroscience is that all you are as far as your identity goes is your brain. The chemistry in your brain is what you are. Your thoughts are really just chemical reactions. And of course there is no soul. Souls are immaterial and don't neatly cooperate with the view that material explanations are all that are needed. In reality, souls and the mental activity they engage in are immaterial. Looking into a brain and thinking you have found the thought is like tearing apart a radio trying to find the voice (that's an illustration from CS Lewis). The brain is a thought processing organ, but a bunch of neurons don't exhaustively explain the thought.

Wendell Berry is a Christian writer who explains it like this: modern, reductionistic science is useful and has value, but in terms of really explaining things it is 'more like a bucket than a well.' When you leave out design and purpose and anything immaterial you end up with less ability to explain reality, not more.

Historically, Descartes is the one is given credit with this focus on material causes. I don't think he intended all the consequences of that. And it wasn't all bad. Science does work. It just isn't the complete answer it is made out to be. In the first 100 or 200 years after Descartes scientists were obviously Christian, and they did their science from the point of view that the universe and been created by a God who had put it in order, and therefore the material universe could be explored and understood. Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, and Newton were all like this.

A curious thing happened with Newton, however. In one of his scientific works he said, in Latin, "Hypothesis non fingo." In English that means, "I feign no hypothesis." In other words, he wasn't pretending that his physics provided a complete understanding of reality. He was merely describing the physical universe without reference to purpose or design. That doesn't mean the purpose and design weren't there. It is interesting that Newton came up with most of his discoveries in math and science in a very short period of time. Most of it happened in 1 year. He spent a far greater amount of time investigating things like numerology in scripture, and contemplating spiritual things. The volume of his writings on such things greatly outnumbers his writing in math and science that we remember him for today. His religious views were a little odd, and he wasn't a Christian as we understand it because he didn't believe in the Trinity. But he understood the bigger picture was there.

Compare that to a century or so later when LaPlace was giving an explanation of his work to Napoleon. LaPlace had written a book on the solar system and planetary motion. Napoleon asked him how God fit into his explanation. "I have no need of that hypothesis, Sir," was LaPlace's response. What a change! Now, I don't know about LaPlace's spiritual life, but he was apparently a practicing Catholic. Christians will sometimes defend LaPlace because math and physics had progressed to a point where that really was all that was needed to explain the solar system. Or was it? He could have at least said that, "Well, God designed the solar system and it works according to his purposes," or something like that. We are back to the bucket vs the well. Even if a description of the solar system seems of little consequence, the schism had happened. The formal and final causes were removed. The consequences are more dramatic when one considers this same materialism led to Karl Marx, Darwin, etc.

The Ontological Argument

I've been reading a really good book recently, called Darwinian Fairytales: Selfish Genes, Errors of Heredity, and Other Fables of Evolution. It was written by David Stove, an atheistic philosopher from Australia. He was an expert on David Hume, the 18th century philosopher known for his skepticism. David Stove applied this skepticism well in criticizing Darwin and all the neo-Darwinists. It can be very useful when arguing against atheists if you can quote another atheist.

I could go on for a while about this book, but that's not why I'm writing. A while back we were talking about the 'ontological argument' for the existence of God, and Chuck brought up the objection that it is not at all clear that 'existence' is a property of things. Well, while reading David Stove's book I ran across a passage in which he criticizes Richard Dawkins 'discovery' of something called 'memes'. (That subject deserves a discussion of it's own.) Stove called Dawkin's discovery a pseudo-discovery, then gave a couple of examples of other philosophical 'pseudo-discoveries'. One of them is Kant's 'discovery' that 'existence' is not a property. It goes like this:

"Any property that a real x had, an imaginary x could have, and any property that an imaginary x could have, a real x could have.

So,

Existence is not a property."

Stove doesn't elaborate any further, he just threw it out there as an example. There a probably several ways to object to Kant's idea here. The first thing that comes to my mind is that one reason some people are prone to dislike the the ontological argument is that it seems so simple and child-like that it can't possibly be true. And if evidence of God's existence is so simple, doesn't that trivialize faith a little bit? To the first objection I would say that a) we are supposed to be child-like as Christians, and b) it would be very ironic for serious, grown-ups to claim to have easily dismissed such a childish notion with such a childish notion of their own. To the second objection I would say that, a) in addition to the admirable quality of being child-like, we find in Romans 1 that reality shows us clearly that God exists, and that not to see this is to suppress what we should naturally understand, and the ontological argument is an example of that, and b) it is a misunderstanding of faith (a subject we've already covered before).

The truth is that both the ontological argument and the 'existence' objection are simple on one level, yet you can spend a lot of time thinking them through. Not all Christian thinkers agree with the ontological argument, for various reasons, but some of it stems from Kant. But many, such as the Christian philosopher Alvin Plantinga, do think it is sound. And there is the old story of Bertrand Russell walking across the yard at Cambridge mumbling to himself, "Great God in boots, the ontological argument is valid!"

To me, the 'existence' objection reveals a certain, modernist, bias. Remember that I've said before that I'm more pre-modern than modern or post-modern. But Kant was a modernist, and there are a few things it would have been good for him to remember. Ancient philosophers, and this would have included the church fathers, understood that there were up to 12 different ways in which something can be said to exist. I don't know most of them, but Caleb and I are going to learn them next year in his logic class. But the two different senses of existence that stand out to me are to exist 'in the mind' or to exist 'independent of the mind'. Take the example of a child's imaginary friend. If a child comes into the house and says that their friend has just been hit by a car, it is appropriate to respond differently if this is a real friend who lives down the street, or if it is an imaginary friend. Both friends exist, but one only exists in the child's mind, whereas the real friend who lives down the street has an existence independent of the child's mind. Clearly, there is a sense in which one of the friends 'exists' and the other doesn't. The friend who lives down the street has a property that the other one doesn't.

There is an objection to the ontological argument that I think is a lot more powerful. In a deductive argument, if the premise(s) is true, and the conclusion follows from the premise(s), then the conclusion is true. It is a slam dunk. In this case the premise, "It is possible that a being greater than which no being could be exists," (or however you want to formulate it) is not going to be readily accepted by everyone. In simpler form it be simply, "It is possible that God exists" or "It is possible that a necessary being exists." I accept those premises, and it seems an agnostic would too, but some atheists won't.

This brings up another pre-modern idea. "I believe in order to understand." Ancient thinkers understood that we all do this. We see it in real life all the time. Someone who believes in global warming believes all the evidence points to the conclusion that man-made global warming is real. And the global warming skeptics do it as well. We all do. Evolutionists, creationists, whatever. It looks a little bit circular, doesn't it? The ironic thing here is that the ancients and medievals understood logic better than anyone, and to them this was ok. It doesn't mean that a circular argument by itself proves anything. But, for moderns a logical chain of thoughts was just that, a chain. One thought follows from another like links in a linear chain. But to the ancients it was more like chain mail armor. It isn't just a chain of links but a whole, 3-dimensional shirt. So, if we take the ontological arugment by itself, there is some room for doubt about that premise. But when we take into consideration everything else we know about reality, and all the other reasons that we have to believe that the existence of God is at least possible, the ontological argument become quite strong.

Cory,

I enjoy reading your posts and their responses. I cannot enter into you conversations at the level you men are, but am challenged by how you all think. I may be making myself vulnerable to your knowledge and study with this, however Iconsider your use of 'postmodernism' as a generalization. I'm not defending postmodernism any more than I would condemn modernism. Both have characteristics of value as well as areas of concern.

This document that I've attached describes the difference and the reason for the apparent shift. Agree or disagree, it is interesting. I'm just concerned of generalizing statements that 'write off' an entire thought process by only citing the areas that align with existentialism.

The 'emergent' church, in the strictest sense, is loosing ground to the more favorable 'missional' church. Both 'emergent' and 'postmodernism' (both of which many say we've moved beyond) were corrective measures and a reaction to bring balance to strict modernism which they would say elevated knowledge without regard to the experience and outworking of that knowledge alongside it.

Anyway. Like I said, it's the generalization that hit me of center more than anything else. Otherwise, great discussion and admire the knowledge and history your guys bring to it.

Vito

Existentialism and Postmodernism

Existentialism and postmodernism are not the same thing, but there are some very strong connections between them. Chuck brought up existentialism as we were discussing postmodernism, and off it went. Two things that strike me as important in both are the values placed on 'authenticity' and 'passion'. The church in Kierkegaard's time had lost it's passion because it didn't really have a reason to believe anymore. The postmodern church, or 'emergent church' as it is called, is very interested in authenticity and passion, too. The issue is perhaps a little different now than in Kierkegaard's time, but the emergent church fights against strict, doctrinal belief systems that demand unquestioning allegiance. They view the traditional church as something that people tend to conform to outwardly without any change of heart.

That's all well and good, to a point. There is nothing wrong with trying to be 'authentic' and 'passionate' about your faith. You should be. The problem with existentialism and postmodernism is that their respective adherents think they have found the solution when they haven't. Neither one provides a good foundation on which build faith. You can't evangelize the world be saying, "take a leap into the absurd with me!" And you can't take away doctrinal truth without sliding away from the truth on a slippery slope.

Therefore, I have a proposition for anyone with existentialist or postmodern tendencies. Get yourself a good, strong dose of George MacDonald. He lived at roughly the same time as Kierkegaard, and dealt with some of the same issues, but with a more healthy response. The environment he lived in was a little different, but there were many similarities. MacDonald lived in Presbyterian, Calvinist Scotland. He reacted to the cold, mechanical, impersonal church as well. It was more of a demand for unquestioning, doctrinal purity that affected the church there. It didn't matter so much what was in your heart, as long as you said and did the right things, and didn't rock the boat. In the Lutheran Church in Denmark it was more a result of a full, frontal assault from modernism. (a huge generalization, I admit)

But MacDonald's solution was much different from Kierkegaard's. He wanted a faith that was both personal and authentic, but was still consistent with sound doctrine. I'm afraid I can't really describe it to you, at least not quickly. In my next post I'll give an example from MacDonald to try to explain how he balances all these issues. Better yet, read some MacDonald for yourself!

For now, suffice it to say, MacDonald had a large impact on later Christian writers such as Chesterton and CS Lewis. Lewis said of MacDonald, "I know hardly any other writer who seems to be closer, or more continually close, to the Spirit of Christ Himself!" MacDonald has many different styles of writing. He wrote many novels, some theology, some fantasy. His Unspoken Sermons are supposed to be very good. I've only read one of his novels myself, but it was very good. It had a lot to do with living the Christian life and how to discern God's will. That's what I will try to summarize in my next post.

I just put a new link on the blog site. It's an interview of Dr John Patrick from the Christian Medical and Dental Association website. John is a friend of ours from Canada. Just to warn you, this is about 43 minutes long. But well worth it. There are a few things in there that touch on some things we've talked about.

Faith

What is faith, if it isn't a leap into the absurd? Modern minds have a hard time understanding what faith is, I think, because the idea that faith is opposed to reason has permeated society. Most people think of faith along the lines of 'belief in something against all the evidence.' If you look up 'faith' in an English dictionary you will get something along those lines, too. But that doesn't express at all the biblical meaning of 'faith.' The beginning of Hebrews 11 is good place to look for help with the definition of faith. And Hebrews 11 is a good place to look when studying faith anyway, with its 'Faith Hall of Fame.' But a simple definition for the biblical idea of faith is this: the ability to behave according to what we say we believe, or, a believe held at a deep enough level that we can act on it.

I've heard examples given with things like parachutes and bullet-proof vests. Sure, it's easy to say that you know a bullet-proof vest will protect you, but do you believe it enough to put one on and let me shoot you in the chest? Let's make it even more mundane. When you get up in the morning and go out to the kitchen table, you exercise faith when you sit in the chair. You have faith that you can sit down and won't fall. You believe at such a deep level you don't even think about it, and you behave accordingly. You sit. You don't fall. The next time you are even more sure to drop down with complete confidence that you won't fall. You have faith in that chair.

Now, some people might object that such a mundane example doesn't do justice to the idea of religious faith. Believing in things we can't see, touch, hear, etc, is altogether different, they would say. But I would say that the point of religious faith is to grow enough so that you have the same type of faith in Christ as you do in the chair at the kitchen table. Let's look at an example from the Bible.

Take Peter. When Peter first met Jesus he didn't have much faith. He played along when Jesus instructed him to drop his net on the other side of the boat, but he didn't really believe. When the nets were found to be overloaded he was very astonished. But his faith grew. He learned as he lived with Jesus day-to-day that what Jesus said made sense and could be trusted. He was there when the 5000 were fed, and when the 4000 were fed. So when Jesus started talking about how He was the bread that came down out of heaven, and those who eat of Him, and drink His blood will have everlasting life, he could believe in that. As many of those who had been following Jesus decided to turn away Peter said, "where else would we go, you have words of eternal life." Peters belief in Jesus had strengthened to the point where he could act on it. He didn't get wishy washy and fall away.

But growth in our faith isn't a straight line up. Peter still had faith when he the guards came to the Garden of Gethsemane, even if it was misdirected. But before the cock crowed three times he had denied Jesus. At that point I suspect Peter saw the absurdity of the situation and it led him away from faith, not to a leap of faith. The one he thought was the Messiah was being beaten and close to being killed. How can you have faith in that? Of course, we know part of his problem was that he didn't believe, and therefore couldn't behave accordingly, what Jesus had tried to tell him on more than one occasion about what had to happen to Him.

He still had his doubts Sunday morning at the tomb. But he was able to see the resurrected Christ for himself. From then on, and particularly after Pentecost, Peter's faith was great. It still wasn't a straight line up. Paul still had to correct him at one point. But by the end of his life he was willing to suffer and die for Christ's sake. It wasn't a leap into the absurd, he was behaving according to what he knew to be true.

I've spoken before, following Kierkegaard's famous example, of Abraham's similar path. When God called him to sacrifice Isaac he knew God would keep his promise somehow, even if he didn't understand it, and he proceeded to behave accordingly. There are many other example's in the Bible of course, but they all show the same thing. Look through Hebrews 11 and think about each one of the examples there. And what about Joseph (both the son of Jacob and Mary's husband), Mary, Moses, Shadrack, Meshack, Abednego, Thomas, and on and on. All of these people came to a place where acting in faith was as much a part of them as sitting in the chair is for you in the morning.

Is that trivializing faith? Perhaps it could be taken that way, and I want to be careful that I'm not misunderstood. Most of the biblical examples had their struggles along the way. Doesn't it seem like it should be much harder to go deep into the jungle to preach to cannibals than to sit on the kitchen chair? Sure, it isn't exactly the same thing. Some examples of faith may require more courage than others. But we should all desire to grow to the point that when the Lord calls us we go, and it is as second nature as sitting in a chair, because we know that what the Lord says is reliable and He is to be trusted, not in spite of what we assume we know.

Fortunately, we have a gracious God. Sometimes, abandoning the wrong things we think we know isn't that easy. As C.S. Lewis said in The Screwtape Letters, God is at times even pleased with our stumbles. I suppose that depends on how we learn from them. At times our knowledge may be more sure than others.

But there is one area of life in which our faith truly can improve to the point where we can have faith as easily as we sit in a chair. In his book How Long, O Lord? Reflections on Suffering and Evil, DA Carson talks about helping people 'die well.' Part of his point is that when faced with life and death, too many Christians are unable to face reality without a tremendous amount of fear and anxiety. It shouldn't be that way. We have every reason to know that what happens to us after we die, as Christians, is a very good thing. Some people say they fear the process of dying, not the actual death. But too many Christians have enormous anxiety about death itself. This is just speculation on my part (I just thought about it) but I think part of the blame for this can left with Kierkegaard. Maybe his faith was passionate and authentic enough that he really knew he was going to heaven. I don't know. But I don't think that a 'leap of faith' into the absurd gives many people much real confidence.

Thanks, Chuck. The article you scanned to my email was a little hard to read, but I got most of it. Likewise, sorry your note that I posted ended up the way it did on the blog. I'm not sure why it does that. It wasn't like that when I composed it. But it will have to do.

Anyway, as far as the atheists' new approach, been there done that. But it could be worse. In the past I've talked about Nietzsche and how I disagree with him, but in some ways he was honest in his appraisal of where morality was at without God. In terms of ethics, the Enlightenment was about providing a basis for 'good without God,' through human reason alone. From Hume, to Kant, to Hegel, that is what it was about. Then there was Mill and Bentham. But it didn't work. Nietzsche understood that at the end of the day no appeal to reason could hide the fact that what passed as morality was just sentimentality and arbitrary, personal opinion. So he looked out into the abyss with despair. God was dead, so all that was left was nihilism. But he called out for the 'uberman', the 'higher man' who would establish his own order and decide right and wrong. This would in effect be the next step in the evolution of man.

I guess the best way to explain it is that people just don't know the history of ideas, so they are doomed to repeat them. This kind of debate is refreshing in a way, at least. Having atheists post signs like that is better than outlawing nativity scenes, etc. But I wonder if they have any new approaches to deciding how to decide between different views of 'the good.' What would they say to Mulsims, especially the ones to whom jihad is 'good'? One of the things Nietzsche realized was that the 'good' that the Enlightenment thinkers were trying to justify were things parasitized from Christianity. Kant felt there was a categorical imperative not to lie. But how did he know in the first place that lying was an ethical concern except by inheriting it from Christianity.

Does that answer the question? Anyone else have any thoughts? I put a link on the right hand side of the web page with a link to a First Things article from a while back about the very subject of 'Good without God.' I haven't read it for a while, but it is good, written by a guy from Wheaton.

Cory,

This was excellent reading. I'm not sure I get it all, but I think
you nailed Kierkegaard and his "Christian Existentialism." I thought
your reality check in the first paragraph regarding economics was
good too.

I was reading the paper last night and came across the attached
article about atheists who are promiting the idea of "goodness
without god." The christmas phrase "be good for goodness sake" is
being used in creative ways to speak to atheists about celebrating
holidays without the need for god. I've attached the article, but you
might not be able to read it.

You say in one paragraph "But Hegel was just working out the ideas of
those before him, such as Kant. Human reason was elevated to the
highest good in the universe, and what was good could actually be
determined by human reason." My question to you, regardint this
comment and the article in the paper is, "can a person really know
what's good and what's bad without God?" Also, if he were to truly
know it, can anyone really be "good" without the concept of God?

What are your thoughts on that?

Chuck

What was Kierkegaard thinking?

What was he thinking? What made him tick, and what about his experience made him come to the conclusions he did? I mentioned some things about his biography initially, then followed his ideas forward. It's time to back up a little.

One thing about heresies is that they have a hint of truth in them. Marx thought that everything in life is determined by economic factors. He was wrong. That ignores that fact that God has a purpose in history, and he's the one in control. Economic factors might not be as important to Him, or might be irrelevant to His purposes. God is usually more concerned with what kind of stewards we are with what He has provided for us, how we develop our minds, how that affects our actions, and our love for others, and our place in eternity, etc. But that doesn't change the fact that some things in life are determined by economic factors. Ask any parent getting ready to send their kids to college, missionaries trying to raise support, a Christian charity, or anyone who is out of a job. Economics matter. But economic factores are not the only factors.

So, where's the hint of truth in Kierkegaard? Remember back when I proposed we follow Alasdair MacIntyre and broke history up into three time periods? There's the Judeo-Christian period, followed by the modern and postmodern. Kierkegaard agreed with me that the modern world had gone wrong. The Enlightenment had created an atmosphere that elevated human reason so high that they thought they could do anything, and they were in control of their own destiny. Newton's laws had come to be interpreted to mean the universe could survive on it's own, and as LaPlace famously stated, "I have no need of that [God] hypothesis." The result on the church was a dead, lifeless, mechanical church, as we have discussed.

One of the philosophers responsible for the decay of the church was Hegel, and Kierkegaard probably reacted against him more than anything else. But Hegel was just working out the ideas of those before him, such as Kant. Human reason was elevated to the highest good in the universe, and what was good could actually be determined by human reason. Kierkegaard saw the results of that in the church, and he reacted. He didn't want the mechanical, meaningless church. He wanted passionate and authentic people in the church, people who really lived out what they said they believed.

He was right in his recognition of a problem, and partially right in his diagnosis, but totally wrong in his solution. Where his diagnosis started to go wrong was in not reaassesing the role of human reason. He found that human reason couldn't take you to a vibrant, passionate faith. So he proposed a leap of faith, to get him beyond reason.

That's the problem. Human reason by itself is not enough, that is true. But the Christian response through the centuries had always involved an interplay between reason of faith, not the abandonment of reason to leap into the absurd. Aquinas had started to separate faith and reason many centuries before, to be sure, but the distinction wasn't so stark until the Enlightenment. The Christian response prior to the Enlightenment had been captured in the phrase, "Faith seeking understanding," or "I believe in order to understand." They realized human reason wasn't enough. But faith informed reason and reason informed faith. At some point there may have to be a leap, but as Pascal said, it's a leap in the light, not a leap in the dark.

In Surprised by Joy CS Lewis talked about a fellow student, an atheist, who announced to his friends that after looking into it, it appeared to him that the Christian story of God becoming a man really happened. With his reason he had found the truth, but he never combined that with faith. That student went mad. If I remember the story correctly he died (suicide?) soon after discovering the truth, but never became a Christian. Contrast that with Lewis. He had similar experiences in what he discovered about the historical truth, but this eventually informed his faith. His faith then led him to a better understanding of what his reason was telling him. It wasn't just a one way street, or a one way leap. What resulted was a set of coherent thoughts. In contrast, existentialism leads you to statments like Barth's, "It isn't true as a matter of history, but it is true as a matter of doctrine." In reality that is very incoherent.

The incoherence isn't necessary. It is possible to humble human reason without having to free yourself from it altogether. In fact, you can't. It is after all part of how God made us, "In His image." It also allows us to maintain some mystery in our faith, but helps us locate those mysteries more appropriately. God's ways are inscrutable (Isaiah). His ways are higher than our ways (Psalms). It only makes sense that God's ways are not going to be easy for us to grasp, and at times impossible to fully grasp. But usually we can at least say we know that something (like the resurrection) is true, even if we can't explain exactly how it happened.

The bottom line is that the existential turn is not necessary. You don't have to follow Kierkegaard to have passion or authenticity. But more importantly, he didn't provide a foundation for a strong faith.

Remember the meaning of logos. It is more than just "word". "In the beginning was the Reason, and the Reason was with God, and the Reason was God."

Finally, many Christians have recognized as their walk with God matures that faith isn't something they do. It is something that happens to them. Whatever you think about predestination, you have to admit that left on your own you never would have come to faith. C.S. Lewis' account of his conversion demonstrates this. Over a period of time he had encounters with something outside of himself that penetrated his heart. He recalls sitting on a bus and having the feeling that something, or someone, was stripping away the facades of his personage, layer by layer, and getting down to his heart. This was before he was a Christian. Later, he and his brother took a trip to the zoo. Lewis was riding in the sidecar of his brother's motorcycle. He says he doesn't remember making a conscious decision to trust the Lord, he just knows that on the way to the zoo he was not a Christian, but on the way back he was. His life had been given over to Christ, and he was committed to the truth. He says this was the freest thing he had ever done, and yet he could do no other. He elsewhere says that the idea of truth 'seekers' is really false. As sinners, seeking for God is like the mouse seeking the cat. Without God stirring the heart no one will seek.

What we see in Lewis' life is contrary to what Kierkegaard told us. Lewis didn't make a 'leap of faith' in which he abandoned the rational and embraced the absurd. There was an interplay between what was happening in his mind, intellectually, and his faith. And what happened to Lewis was, in a significant way, done to him. The existential catch-phrase, "reality viewed from the perspective of the actor," does not come close to explaining how we live our lives in reality. True faith is not a matter of us conjuring up our own feelings, and establishing meaning and purpose for ourselves. We have to come to rely on God. We don't do the work ourselves.

The connections between existentialism and postmodernism become clear at this point. One of the marks of postmodernism is a distrust of metanarratives. Postmoderns love narratives. Everyone has their own story. Everyone has their own adventure. But they disbelieve in any over-arching story that controls all of reality. They have no use for the meaning and purpose God designed into the universe, or for God's story of creation-fall-redemption. If everything is always about 'the actor', they'll never be able to submit to God.

Beyond Kierkegaard II

The other general brand of existentialists are the theists. Some of the names here include Karl Barth, Rudolph Bultman, Paul Tillich, and the Niebuhr brothers, Reinhold and Richard. A label stuck for these guys: neo-orthodoxy. They didn't necessarily like the label, but it stuck, and it is useful. This is, of course, related to 'orthodoxy' not 'Eastern Orthodoxy'. It is the basic, creedal, historic Christianity that unites all true believers throughout time, regardless of denomination. And 'neo-' refers to that same basic Christianity, with a twist. I've already spoken about Barth previously, so I'm going to use him as an example. That doesn't mean he represents all neo-orthodoxy. And I'm not trying to judge the faith of any of these men. That is between them and God. Barth appears to me to be a sincere believer. (What an existential, even post modern thing to say, huh.) Some of those other guys I'm less sure about. That being said, I think they leave the Christian faith without a firm foundation.

Barth's history is a lot like Kierkegaard's. He grew up in the liberal church of the time, and in time he rejected it. There was nothing left to believe in. If it was shown that miracles don't happen, dead men don't rise from the dead, and no prophecy in the Bible can be taken seriously, then all that is left is a lot of out-dated traditions and doctrines. Barth wanted to believe in the those doctrines. He couldn't ever really divorce himself from some of the premises of the liberal church, however. As a matter of historical fact Jesus didn't rise from the dead. But as a matter of doctrine, and of faith, he did. And that is all that matters.

If you study Barth, and I'm not saying I have thoroughly, he seems to believe in all the right doctrines. But the Bible is clear (I Cor 15) that the resurrection, etc, as an historical fact, happened. And if it didn't, "we are to be most pitied..." Barth's position, somewhat unwittingly, leaves future generations to decide for themselves whether or not to take that 'leap of faith,' without any clear reason why they should.

As an aside, Barth does have more interesting things in his history. He was German, rejected the Nazis, and fled to Switzerland. He was involved with a group of theologians in opposition to the Nazis that also included Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I have a lot of respect for Bonhoeffer. His book The Cost of Discipleship is definitely worth reading. Bonhoeffer was executed after the failed plot to kill Hitler.

Beyond Kierkegaard

This discussion will get back to Kierkegaard, but existentialism is a little hard to sum up quickly, so I'd like to elaborate a little. There are little catchphrases that help explain certain aspects of it, such as "reality viewed from the perspective of the actor,' 'existence precedes essence,' and the like. But it might help to look at the history of existentialism since Kierkegaard. This little sketch is, of course, incredibly brief. But it should help.

There were two main groups that followed Kierkegaard: theistic existentialists and atheistic existentialists. The existence of the atheistic existentialists, sometimes called the 'Black existentialists' is one small part of why I disagree with Kierkegaard. C.S. Lewis said somewhere that people who champion certain ideas or philosophies should follow those ideas down the road to the 'ruddy end' (paraphrased). Ideas do have consequences (I don't know what Lewis thought about Kierkegaard specifically, but that would be interesting to find out). And these ideas often have more than a grain of truth in them. But the consequences of some ideas are difficult to anticipate. Unfortunately, an idea may seem appropriate at the time, under certain conditions, but then other people start to live them out. The 'ruddy end' of the existential road is the atheistic existentialist. It actually doesn't stop there, because there are trails that lead from existentialism to postmodernism, etc.

Two of the most well known existentialists in this camp are the French philosophers Camus and Sartre. They wrote novels such as The Stranger and Nausea, respectively. The gist of these books is that humans are alienated from the universe we live in because it is a meaningless place. So people have to create their own meaning, and it really doesn't matter what meaning you decide to create. Physical pleasures can be indulged in wantonly. If that doesn't do it for you try whatever you want. But at the end of the day all that is left is a sickness, or nausea, that is the meaningless human condition. The only question that is left is, when to commit suicide.

Sartre is an interesting case because he was very active in the French resistance during WWII. There is a story that someone once asked him why he was so vehemently against the Nazis. If his philosophy was true and things were meaningless it shouldn't matter whether the Nazis were in charge or not. Why not be one of the Vichy French who cooperated with the Nazis. His response was that sometimes you just need to take a 'leap of faith.'

The link between this brand of existentialism and Kierkegaard is clear. Please pardon the quick reference from the Wikipedia page on existentialism, but this is what it says (compare this to Jeremiah 29, for example, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord..."):

"The early 19th century philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, posthumously regarded as the father of existentialism,^[5][6] maintained that the individual solely has the responsibilities of giving one's own life meaning and living that life passionately and sincerely,^[7][8] in spite of many existential obstacles and distractions including despair, angst, absurdity, alienation, and boredom.^[9]

The following comment was left on my previous post. I'm posting it this way since those who read the posts are getting them by email mostly and haven't seen the comments.

"You've got it wrong, Kierkegaard didn't mean the leap of faith as you described it. It's not that faith is to believe things that are not true. Kierkegard does NOT say you should have faith that 1+1=3.

A leap of faith is a sign of authenticity; in other words, our actions are an honest manifestation of our beliefs, rational thinking, personality, etc. Faith is the highest passion, passion to believe in ourselves, not in irrational things.

We've got to kill the mis-interpretation of Kierkegaard once and for all."

November 16, 2009 6:13 PM

The comment was left anonymously, but I welcome it. The more discussion the better. There is something in this comment that I definitely agree with. Our actions are manifestations of our beliefs, etc. In fact, that fits precisely with what I think is a good definition of faith: the ability to behave according to what we say we believe. Or, to believe something at a level that we can act on it.

But that is also why I disagree with Kierkegaard. In Fear and Trembling he is quite emphatic, many times over, that faith is a belief in the absurd. Abraham is, of course, his object of study there. He assiduously proclaims that what Abraham did, and the faith he had, was absurd. He might as well have said Abraham believed that 1 + 1 = 3. But he disregards what else we know about Abraham. Paul said in Romans 4:20 - 21 (ESV), "No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised." Abraham had come a long way in his relationship with God. He followed God's direction to Canaan, had personally received the covenants (Gen 12, 15, 17). He entertained and challenged angels and the Lord Himself (Sodom and Gomorrah). Yet we see him fail on occasion. He disowned his wife twice out of fear, once in Egypt and once with Abimelech king of Gerar (he was a slow learner at times). Hagar bore Ishmael because of Abrahams lack of faith. But by the time God called him to sacrifice Isaac Abraham had learned a lot. The knowledge that God would keep his promises and could bring Isaac back from the dead was no longer an absurd idea. It may seem absurd to you and me, and Kierkegaard, but we haven't had the same relationship with God that Abraham did.

That's my main point. What Abraham did wasn't absurd from the perspective of someone who could see things more and more from God's perspective, and less and less from our everyday experience. It is more accurate to say that it was more absurd for Abraham to follow God's first direction and leave the land of his fathers than it was to follow God's direction in regard to Isaac, from Abraham's perspective at that point in his life.

This can be demonstrated also in the life of Karl Barth, who is a descendant of Kierkegaard's in terms of his ideas. Friends of mine have commented that they think Barth was the greatest Protestant theologian in the 20th century. I have to disagree. There is of course much to admire in Barth, and I'm not claiming to be an expert on him. But he made the comment, both in regard to The Fall and the Incarnation/Resurrection, that it is not true as a matter of history, but it is true as a matter of faith/doctrine. Now, that is as clear as you can get. Actually believing in an historical resurrection is as absurd as 1 + 1 = 3, to Barth. But he's going to believe anyway. Not that it really happened, but in his faith.

In my view it is important to believe that the resurrection happened as a matter of fact. See 1 Cor 15. But that's not the point here. The point is that to Kierkegaard, to make that 'leap of faith' is indeed to believe in something absurd. That is not what our faith is supposed to be.

It seems that Kierkegaard wasn't the first to talk about a 'leap of faith'. Pascal, at least, had used the phrase before him. But Pascal was clear that it is a 'leap in the light, not a leap in the dark.' In that sense I have no problem with leaps. But I've seen nothing that changes my view that Kierkegaard saw the leap of faith as an irrational belief in the absurd.

Finally, the commentator said that faith is the passion to believe in ourselves. Kierkegaard very well may have thought that. It is a very existentialist thing to say. But that is my problem with existentialism. Faith isn't a belief that we just conjure up, and it isn't a belief in ourselves. Properly understood, in my view, it is the object of our faith that is important, and our ability to behave according to what we say we believe.

Kierkegaard

It's been over a month since I posted anything. Just to refresh memories, we were talking about the 'fathers' of existentialism. Dostoevsky is called the 'father' by some, and we finished talking about him. I personally like Dostoevsky, but I don't think he was an existentialist. He did deal with some existential themes, but his conclusions were not those of the existentialists.

Now Kierkegaard. What to do with Kierkegaard? Did he start something new, or was he just a victim of the times? Maybe he's just a poor, misunderstood man. Well, I don't want to say that everything he thought was wrong, but he can be credited with creating a lot of misunderstanding about religion and faith. At least that's my view.

For now I'm just going to briefly introduce a little of Kiekegaard's biography, then come back later for discussion. Soren Kierkegaard was born into a wealthy Danish family with a strong Lutheran background. As Soren grew up he developed a disdain for the church because it was so mechanical and rigid. It wasn't that it was legalistic, although that may have been part of it, so much as it was just very formulaic. People just went to church because that is what was expected. They followed the liturgy and the church calendar and did what was expected of them. But they were just going through the motions. The church was lifeless and dead.

Kierkegaard was correct in recognizing that this was a problem, and perhaps even correct in understanding why. The modern world, with its focus on science and reason, was marginalizing religion and faith. In short, the church was becoming liberal. The Lutheran Church was ingrained in the culture, so it wasn't going anywhere, at least not going away quickly. But it was becoming meaningless, and it wasn't having an effect on anyone's life.

The problem was that the modern world was adopting new ideas that weren't compatible with the Bible. The Christian story was just a myth. Dead men don't ever rise from the dead in the real world, and no one can predict the future. So the Bible was just a man made story. A man made story can't have a supernatural effect on someone's heart.

If Kierkegaard was right about the diagnosis, he was very wrong about the solution. His solution was to take an existential 'leap of faith.' That term wasn't new with Kierkegaard, but he gave it new meaning, and he further refined that distinction between the world of reason and the world of faith that started back with Aquinas. So Kierkegaard agreed with modernism, on the one hand, that dead men don't rise from the dead and no one can predict the future. But on the other hand, faith can bring the Christian story to life, and we can live as though it were true. That is the 'leap of faith.'

Phillip Johnson, in his book Defeating Darwinism by Opening Minds, gives an example of what it is like to live as though things of faith are true in one area of life, but things of reason in another area. (I've adapted this a little.) It is as though a young girl was distressed when her friends told her that Santa Claus isn't real. So she did an experiment. She stayed up late and snuck out to see her parents filling the stockings, and realized her friends were right. Year after year the same thing happened. But for the rest of her life she continued to insist that Santa Claus is real. On the one hand her reason told her there was no Santa Claus, but she took that 'leap of faith' and continued to believe with all of her might. So for her it was true.

That's what making deals with modernism does to your faith. The reality is that our reason and our faith, when used properly, complement one another. We can't maintain such blatant contradictions and keep a vibrant spiritual life at the same time. It is incoherent. All healthy little girls eventually give up on Santa Claus. And if you believe the modern world has discounted the basis for the Christian faith, just a 'leap of faith' is a very poor foundation from which to spread the gospel. Kierkegaard may have invigorated the church to a point, and for a while, but in the end the 'leap of faith,' at least as he understood it, was a losing proposition.

Dostoevsky and Existentialism

Just so you know, I edited the previous post a little. One paragraph in particular needed a little work.

I mentioned previously that two different people have been called 'the father of existentialism.' One of them is Soren Kierkegaard, and he's probably the one I would give the credit to. But old Soren will take longer to discuss, so I want to say something about Dostoevsky first.

Fyodor Dostoevsky was the son of a Russian military officer. In young adulthood he ran with the young liberals in Europe that would end up changing the world. His ideas were not that much different from those that led to Marxism, etc. But somewhere along the way he became serious about his Christian faith. If I remember right it was about the same time he was in prison. He spent time in prison both for his associations with one of the underground, liberal, political groups, but also ended up in debtors' prison (he had a gambling problem). I don't want to say too much about his faith because I don't want to misrepresent it, but he was a Christian, and very much Russian Orthodox.

Much of his writing is specifically aimed at those young liberal intellectuals that he hung around with for a while. In The Brothers Karamozov he addresses the issues of what life is like without God. (Please forgive that very brief summary.) In Crime and Punishment he ridicules the liberal intellectuals quite severely, and I think successfully. In that book Raskolnikov, the main character, is a young intellectual who brutally murdered an old woman who owned a pawn shop because he needed her money. It was the working out of his own philosophy. There was no god, and no right or wrong, so why not kill a worthless, crotchety, old woman. But it didn't work out so well for Raskolnikov. He thought he had beaten the system, but the real significance of what he did was constantly invading into reality, and it drove him mad.

I think the reason some people consider Dostoevsky the 'father of existentialism' was because he dealt with some issues of interest to those who would later be called existentialists. He was one of the first novelists/thinkers to address the issues. He did deal with the point of view of individuals, and he certainly dealt with the alienation of individuals from society, which is a big existential topic. But I find it hard to call him an existentialist, or even the father of existentialism, because his conclusions are so different from existentialism. As can be seen with Rakolnikov, he couldn't really determine his own essence. Reality was always crashing in on him and spoiling his illusion.

Another way he may seem a little existential can be seen in The Brothers Karamozov. Without getting into too much detail, that is where the famous line is, "If there is no God, all things are permissible." Dostoevsky's conclusion is that of course there is a God, because all things are not permissible. But in typical Orthodox fashion, he seems to leave the issue as a mystery. Yes, it is mysterious that there is a God and yet he allows innocent people to suffer intensely sometimes. But yet I know there is a God. It is just an existential 'leap of faith' to accept God. (That's not Dostoevsky's phrase, but an existentialist could say it fits here).

Personally, I think that is the wrong way to take Dostoevsky. To him it isn't a 'leap of faith'. I think he did the logic. "I know that all things are not permissible. So there must be a God. If I torture or murder someone, that is very wrong. Why God allows it is a mystery. But mystery is ok."

That is actually one thing I like about the Eastern Orthodox churches. They can accept mystery. Yes, at times they take it a little far. But part of the problem with the western Protestant churches is the division that results over trying to 'pin down' theological issues that are really beyond our grasp. I happen to believe that exploring all those theological mysteries can be very profitable. But you have to humble about it.

So, that's what I have to say about Dostoevsky. Anyone else have anything to add?

Existentialism

First things first, so let's talk about what existentialism is. It is one of those things difficult to define in one sentence. Some catch phrases used to explain it are things like 'reality viewed from the perspective of the actor' and 'existence precedes essence.' Basically, the individual person decides what is right and wrong, and decides for himself what meaning and purpose is attached to reality.

In the ancient and medieval worlds man was compared to things higher than himself, ie, God/gods and angels, etc. There was a reality that transcended the physical universe. Mankind had a place of authority on earth, but understood there were laws, authorities, and reality that were greater that man was subject to.

Francis Schaeffer wrote a short little book on the history of the decline of western thought called Escape From Reason. It might be something worth exploring for us, as it is so short. He points out that starting with Thomas Aquinas, a schism was introduced into reality. Now, Aquinas was a smart guy, and I admire him a lot. So I had a hard time accepting what Schaeffer said at first. It is still true that there is a lot to admire about Aquinas, but in the end I saw that Schaeffer was right. Whereas prior to Aquinas there was one reality that involved both our everyday experience in the physical world and with 'higher' or 'heavenly' things, after Aquinas there was a separation. Although I think scripture itself does make a distinction between the two in some way, I think a lot of that has to do with the Fall. Although there are some distinctions, they are both aspects of one reality. Paul talks in Ephesians 6, for example, about spiritual realities that definitely are to be considered part of our everyday reality. But Aquinas separated reality into a 'higher story' and a 'lower story.' The rules were different if you were discussing 'things of faith' or 'things of reason.' This distinction was highlighted when it came to Kant, who called the two stories noumena and phenomena.

In addition, in the late medieval world, art (as an expression of the thought of the time) started to have less to do with strictly religious or heavenly things, and more about man in a more realistic setting. And then in the Renaissance man become less of an object of art altogether. The 'real' word became the focus, and things like landscapes began to show up in art.

These changes in focus were not necessarily bad in and of themselves. It reminds me a little of what happened in the 50's. There wasn't really anything wrong with rock 'n roll music, per se. But there was an attitude of rebellion that did come with it that was wrong. There is nothing wrong with the painting of landscapes. And some artists actually did try to present landscapes as a celebration of God's creation. But there was also a misguided sense of freedom from the reality of that 'upper story.'

Man's view of his relationship to the world went from an upward view, to a downward view. He stopped comparing himself to things above, and started comparing himself to things below. In particular man started comparing himself to the animals. This is particularly evident in Darwinism.

More or less at the same time this transition from the upward comparisons to downward comparisons was happening, the scientific revolution came along. We've talked about the birth of modern science before, but it is relevant here as well. Descartes' statement, 'I think, therefore I am,' is considered by some to be the start of modern science. Descartes' thought there shows the tendency to rely on yourself and your own observations of the world. Not that it was totally new or totally bad, but that thought allowed science to flourish. Not that science is bad, if it is kept humble, but there is an aspect of science that involves human self-reliance.

So as man's focus went from upward to downward, it also started going inward. The 'higher things,' the things of God and angels were no longer as important, and were started to be seen by many as irrelevant altogether. All that is left is man. Man doesn't have an essence determined for him any more, and there is no purpose or meaning presupposed in creation. But once man comes on the scene and develops this self-awareness, he is able to determine meaning and purpose for himself. Thus, 'existence precedes essence.'

This is a very brief overview. There is much more that could be said. So please do. Some similarities to other things we've talked about, like Nietzsche, can certainly be seen. But hopefully this helps with an understanding of what existentialism is. Then I think talking about Kierkegaard and Dostoevsky will make more sense.

Existentialism

Chuck brought up the issue of existentialism, and thought that would be a good direction to take the discussion. Soon I plan on talking a little about Kierkegaard and Dostoevsky. Both of them have been called the 'father of existentialism'. Interestingly, both of them were Christians. For now, I'm just bringing them up, and if anyone wants to start by defining what existentialism is, go ahead.

Is anyone interested in meeting next Wednesday, the 16th? There is a lot going on at the church that night, but we could meet at someone's house. Rustin has said his place is open in the past, or my house. Just let me know.

I am using a book for some of Caleb's homeschooling called Handbook of Christian Apologetics by Peter Kreeft and Ronald Tacelli. It is a supplement to his logic course. I just read a section that spoke to some things we've been talking about recently and I thought I'd share it with you. Here he they are talking about getting back to a more traditional, Aristotelian, view of logic.

Restoring the Older Notion of Reason
To make this restoration possible, another restoration is necessary: a restoration of the older, larger notion of reason itself. This means essentially two things:
1. seeing our subjective, psychological, human processes of reasoning as participation in and reflections of an objective rational order, a logos, a "Reason" with a capital R; and

2. seeing reason not as confined to reasoning, calculating--what scholastic logic calls "the third act of the mind"--but as including "the first act of the mind": apprehension, intellectual intuition, understanding, "seeing," insight, contemplation.

Using Aristotelian Logic
These two positions we take concerning the nature of reason lie behind our use of Aristotelian logic. This is a logic of (linguistic) terms, which express (mental) concepts, which represent (real) essences, or the natures of things. (The Greek word logos has all three of these meanings.) Many modern philosophers are suspicious and skeptical of the venerable and commonsense notion of things having real essences or natures and of our ability to know them. Aristotelian logic assumes the existence of essences and our ability to know them, for its basic units are terms, which express concepts, which express essences. But modern symbolic logic does not assume what philosophers call metaphysical realism (that essences are real), but implicitly assumes instead metaphysical nominalism (that essences are only nomina, names, human labels), since its basic units are not terms but propositions. Then it relates these propositions in argumentative structures just as a computer can do: if p, then q; p; therefore q.

The human mind is indeed a computer--we do compute, after all--but it is much more than that. We can also "see," or understand. Behind our use of Aristotelian logic is our hope that all our arguing will begin and end with seeing, with insight. Thus, we usually begin by defining terms and end by trying to bring the reader to the point of seeing objective reality as it is.