The Moral Dilemma: Part 2

The first point of consideration which I would like to discuss is whether there really are two distinct moral-types represented in this dilemma. Is the difference between human-type morality and divine-type morality a legitimate difference in kind, or is it simply a difference of degree? Our situation could be, in other words, as C.S. Lewis once described it:

“When the relevant difference between the Divine ethics and your own appears to you, you will not, in fact, be in any doubt that the change demanded of you is in the direction you already call ‘better.’ The Divine ‘goodness’ differs from ours, but is not sheerly different: it differs from ours not as white from black but as a perfect circle from a child’s first attempt to draw a wheel. But when the child has learned to draw, it will know that the circle it then makes is what it was trying to make from the very beginning” (The Problem of Pain, 30).

Or, perhaps it consists in neither difference of kind nor degree that we experience the disparity as we do, and our violated feelings are just the result of an elaborate misunderstanding. It seems very unlikely that this could be the case, but isn’t morality such that even its pure expressions can sometimes be obscured or distorted by the circumstances which surround it, and this even when the moral agents in question are other human beings? Surely this tendency of our moral expression is even more in force when the relation involves distinct types of moral agents - particularly agents whose respective roles in the affair are as far removed from one another as creature and Creator.

At face value, divine-type morality certainly isn’t the same as human-type morality. But perhaps appearances can be deceiving. Wouldn’t the best case scenario in this situation be that, after all was said and done, the seeming ‘disparity between moral types’ was simply a product of our own ignorance regarding the supporting justification of the act in question; that, in other words, there was ever only one moral type being represented, the expressions of which were simply distorted by the surrounding context in which we encountered them? If this were the case, all that would be required of us in order to reconcile our standing moral sentiments to those events which our religious commitments compel us to affirm, is to isolate the pure moral expression from all the confounding elements which surround it. It is to this possibility, then, that we will first turn our attention.


I. Are Our Moral Judgments Confounded?

In order to be justified in our moral assessments of another’s behavior, it seems we must first have eliminated all internal bias which might obscure, or otherwise distort our judgment. That each of us are susceptible to such errors in judgment is not only metaphysically possible, but empirically certain. Before pronouncing a wholesale condemnation of Old Testament ethical practices, therefore, I think it prudent to explore the possibility that our own faculties of judgment are confounded in these instances. Listed below are what I think the most likely candidates for potentially tainting our assessment of particular Old Testament events.

1. We are analyzing the events anachronistically;
2. We are analyzing the events ethnocentrically;
3. We have misapprehended the precipitating events;
4. We have misapprehended the supporting rationale; and
5. We have misapprehended the ‘moral jurisdiction’ of the agent(s) involved.

So, possibility one can be cashed out in two similar, but distinct ways. The first way you can take the anachronistic defense is by its conventional presentation: By approaching Old Testament events (occurring between the 1st and 2nd centuries B.C.) from a 21st century ethical perspective, we are likely missing from our assessment certain temporally relevant factors. Without a proper appreciation for the time in which these events took place, we cannot be justified in passing judgment on them.

The second way you might cash out the anachronistic defense is to propose different dispensational mechanisms to be at work in the two respective time frames, such that apparent exoticisms in God’s fundamental nature are really just unfamiliar expressions (from the perspective of our current dispensational context, that is) of the very same fundamental nature. This variety of anachronism is a little bit more difficult to explicate, as it relies upon some rather sophisticated theology - theology, anyhow, with which I am not so well versed. The long and short of the defense, however, is this: Without a proper understanding of God’s purposes in the earth at that time (and particularly, Israel’s role in fulfilling those purposes), we cannot know the moral quality of the events which He mandated.

Moving on to possibility two, it is clear that innate ethnocentrism (that is, our predisposed preference for the culture in which we were brought up, and with which we are most familiar) could also impair our ability to draw accurate assessments of Old Testament events, insofar as they concern cultures which we do not fully understand. As a contemporary example of how ethnocentrism might affect our judgment, reflect on your own attitude toward arranged marriages. For the vast majority of Westerners, the idea of one’s guardians having a say in who we ultimately share our lives with seems archaic, overly paternalistic; perhaps repressive of proper human passions, or even outright cruel. But it is far from clear that our distaste for this common feature of Eastern cultures amounts to anything more than just that, a distaste. And certainly, there seem to be many instances in which marriages established in this ‘exotic’ manner actually turn out to exemplify what we consider the virtues of the institution. In short, exotic doesn’t equate to immoral; and we as Westerners may not be the best judge of Eastern ethical practices.

The third defense suggests the possibility of there being precipatory events of such an abhorrent and insufferable nature leading up to those events recorded in the Old Testament, that the response they occasioned, however gruesome, may have been completely justified. Granted, it is difficult to imagine a state of affairs which may call for the wholesale slaughter of an entire race of people (and perhaps there is none that could justify the inclusion of infants in the onslaught), but at least in certain instances, such factors may indeed have come into play.*1

Possibility four on our list states that certain acts which tend to manifest themselves in incriminating expression may nonetheless proceed from pure and upright intentions. Perhaps the most common example of acts of this sort, which lend themselves so readily to misinterpretation, are those which we refer to as paternalistic. The classic instance of paternalism is a father disciplining the child he loves, often inviting the child’s reproach in his effort to procure the result which is in the child’s best interest. As paternalistic acts are so essential to fulfilling the requirements of love, it is not surprising that so many offensive acts recorded in the Bible are chalked up to God’s paternalism - and perhaps justifiably.*2 This fourth defense provides a natural segue to the final item on our list.

According to our last defense, God’s unique position - not only as man’s lover and caretaker, but as his Lord and judge - affords Him certain jurisdictional rights which may not be communicable in terms of any other office which we know. As such, though God may seem to trespass every jurisdictional boundary with which we are familiar, this is no assurance that He has done anything expressly wrong. If such a defense at first sounds strange, I encourage you to think for a moment what kind of rights are afforded certain civic offices without thereby compromising anyone’s moral integrity. A judge, for instance, can: seize another’s property; remove a child from its parent’s custody; deny an individual his/her freedom; even order their execution - all well within the moral confines of the office which he fills. Therefore, insofar as one’s moral integrity is bound up in the appropriate execution of their official responsibilities (whether natural or conferred), there may not be a single fixed standard by which all are held equally accountable; and in such instances as those presently under consideration, when the agent in question occupies an office so categorically distinct from all others, how can we ever be sure when God has overstepped His bounds?*3


II. Can We Secure a Verdict Through the Formal Conditions of Justice?

So, alright, we’ve determined that it’s at least possible to be in error regarding the judgments we make about remote events. But is the elimination of any, or even all potential biases from our assessment likely to alter the nature of these particular events to such a degree that they no longer offend our moral sensibilities? Is even the most charitable representation of what took place in these passages up to par with what we expect of a holy and perfect God?

Since the number of Old Testament passages which rank by this scale as morally suspect is so extensive, I will entertain here only a single instance which I take to be more or less representative of the class. Instead of offering my own clumsy analysis of what would doubtlessly be better handled by an Old Testament scholar, allow me to simply cut and paste from a previous discussion I had with a friend during his enrollment in an Old Testament program. The discussion featured a brief response to certain troublesome elements of Numbers 31, a passage recounting the Israelites’ vengeance on the Midianites. I have included it here along with the original query:

[Query:] Israel's assimilation of Midianite virgins (Numbers 31:18) - how does this reconcile with the general rule of "total annihilation" and prohibited intermarriages? - What is the significance of the nations listed in Deut. 7 as opposed to the Midianites from this story?; what were the conditions for the Israelite army to take spoil or to destroy it? Why were the neighboring nations (Perizzites, Hittites, Amorites, etc.) more significant than those far off for threatening Israel's purity - Deut. 20? And why was God concerned with having gold and precious things in His temple? Is there any reason more respectable than to show superiority over rival nations in regards to wealth, etc.? (see also Deut. 20)

[Response:] This is the best I could find for this so far.

“(3) The destruction of the women and boys (31:13-18)

13-18. We are quite shocked when we find the people are facing anger from Moses instead of approval. The meeting outside the camp is an omen; something is unclean. The Bible says that Moses was furious against the officers of the armies. He does not come to bless them in their victory but to vent his rage at the victories. Even in victory the people can grossly err.
Moses asks almost incredulously, "Have you allowed all the women to live?" (v.15). The text has led us down a line that leads to deliberate surprise. We find ourselves as startled by these words, even as some of the soldiers might have been. But then Moses explains: These were the very women whom Balaam had used to bring the seduction of the people of Israel and to provoke the terrible plague that had broken out among the congregation of Israel (v.16). So boys and women were to be killed; there was to be no mercy, no exception (v.17). Only young girls (demonstrable virgins) would be saved alive; only they had not contaminated themselves with the debauchery of Midian and Moab in Baal worship (v.18). The suggestion is that the participation of women from Midian in the debased orgiastic worship of Baal described in chapter 25 was extensive, not selective. Who would know which of these women was innocent of these rituals? The presumption is that each one was guilty in some manner.
Verse 17 is rather powerful in its formation. It is framed with chiasm of the imperative verb "kill." The following format shows the word order, the pungency, of the original:

'And now, kill every male among the children;
and every woman who knows a man,
a male sexually, kill!'

The brutality demanded by this verse is nearly unimaginable—the killing of boys and babies. One has to ask, What separates this from the Egyptian killing of the Hebrew boy babies in Exodus 1? Since most women were married young in biblical times, most women would have had to be killed as well. Here is the sort of text that troubles us deeply. It is one thing to kill a man. It is one thing to kill a woman in battle. It is one thing even to kill children in a frenzy of hatred. But this verse demands the calm, selective, purposeful killing of women and children after the battle was over.
Verse 18 only increases our sense of unrest in this text. Those girls who were to be kept alive would have to be rather young. Since little girls were preserved, their mothers would have had to be killed.
Such stories are bound to raise questions about the morality of the OT. Ultimately, these questions are darts directed to the person of God. One cannot debate the "morality" of the OT apart from the "morality" of God who is represented in these passages. And once one begins to ask, "Is God moral?" the very question damns the speaker. For who is man to be the instructor of the Lord? (see Job 40:1-2). This is not to say that these passages do not cause us to shriek with inner tension—for they do! But our shout had best not be an arrogant attack on Majesty. Ultimately, people of faith affirm—in the midst of the most negative environment—"The God of Israel will do right."
The only way to understand such a ghastly command is to realize what was at stake in the story of Baal Peor (ch. 25), the incident that gave rise to the holy war in the first place. This story is not just another account of sin and rebellion in the desert. Indeed, if the story of Baal Peor is not an unusual and remarkable account, then the punishment meted out in chapter 31 is not in keeping with the crime.
Numbers 25 is unique. It records an altogether new type of sin and rebellion—one that bears within itself the threat of the doom of the nation as a whole. As we know, from our distance, it was the very type of evil described in chapter 25 that finally destroyed the Hebrew kingdoms in the land. While it is difficult to say such a thing, the destruction of the women and the boys was an act of God's mercy—for Israel. There is a sense of perspective here that is so very difficult to grasp and yet which permeates the Word of God: Divine judgment is sure for the nations who are a threat to the existence of God's people or who have rejected his grace. And that remains true in our own "sophisticated" day. The nations today, and the ungodly among all peoples, are at risk. They know of risk from the possibility of nuclear disaster, from the threat of war, from the tweaks of nature, and from the freaks of chance. But the nations today are at risk from the judgment of God. This is true whether they acknowledge it or not. One day that judgment will come. At that time there will be no weeping over women and boys who died in ancient Midian three and a half millennia ago; at that time the judgment of God will transcend anything ever written in the harshest Scripture. And God will still be merciful and holy, maintaining glory and honor in the midst of havoc and ruin. The God of Israel will still do right” (Allen, Ronald B. Expositors Bible Commentary: Numbers 31:13-18).


Now, such an interpretation of that event recounted in Numbers 31 will appease some and only further agitate others. Certainly, it is of some consolation to imagine the victims of the slaughter as categorically wicked, but it seems somehow unfeasible that this was truly the case. Besides, even if we were supposed to read the passage in this light, it is nevertheless unclear why such a fact should necessitate their destruction - indeed, the scriptural recounting itself apparently allows for the extension of mercy to at least the young virgin women.

Other interpretations I’ve come across of the same passage (e.g., the christian-thinktank account linked in a previous response), interpret the reference to the ‘Lord’s portion’ of the plunder (vs. 18) as designating a subset of the survivors that was to be destroyed.

“I should also point out that the ‘for yourselves’ phrase (31.18) is NOT actually referring to ‘for your pleasure’, but is a reference to the opposite condition of ‘for YHWH’ which applied to all people or property which was theoretically supposed to be destroyed in such combat situations. The herem (or ‘ban’) specifically indicated that all enemy people or property which was ‘delivered over to YHWH’ was to be killed/destroyed. By referring to ‘for yourselves’, then, in this passage, means simply ‘do not kill them’. This can also be seen in that this ‘booty’ was not ‘for themselves’ actually, but was distributed to others within the community.”*4

If such an interpretation of vs. 18 is true, it seems to raise the subsequent consideration of why, if it was otherwise appropriate to spare the female children for assimilation into the Israelite community, would God still insist on the destruction of a portion of them (32 to be precise - see vs. 40)? If the extension of mercy is on the table, how could anyone give preference to destruction?

Whatever the case, it is not clear which, if any, of the available interpretations of this passage is entirely accurate of the actual event. It might just be that the passage I have chosen is one in which the available evidence is too paltry to inform a judgment in one direction or the other, in which case we might hope for a less ambiguous case to be proffered in the future (and the reader is encouraged to do so). However, in the interest of moving forward, I would like to consider the prospect of determining guilt or innocence on more informal bases.


III. Is God Subject to Informal Conditions of Justice?

Running our initial assessments of these Old Testament passages through this gauntlet of potential defenses, we have observed that one is often left with more of a ghost of an event than an actual event. The amount of admittable, concrete evidence with which we are left to subject to analysis becomes perhaps too paltry to be conclusive one way or the other. But this seems no good for either side represented in the argument: What was desired by the defense was a clear victory, an absolution of guilt, a complete vindication; conversely, what was desired by the prosecution was a declaration of guilt, a holding accountable of the accused, and justice for the alleged victims. All that was attained by either side was a mere acquittal.

In the absence of a verdict, both parties are left with an feeling of unsettlement. For the prosecution, the feeling is perhaps very similar to that of when a known criminal, with a rap list of alleged crimes reaching to the floor, is finally brought to trial under the pretense of there existing that long-sought-after piece of irrefutable evidence which will finally determine his guilt (perhaps the ever-improbable eye-witness testimony), only to elude again, on the basis of a mere technicality, the fate which rightly belongs to him.

It seems somehow inappropriate that our knowledge of God’s moral integrity should have to hang in limbo between two sets of contradictory evidence.*5 Presented with the opportunity, we would like for God to demonstrate at least the slightest motivation to disavow, or distance Himself from, such testimony as might call His moral integrity into question. But in the absence of such demonstrations, one is at a loss but to suspect that He feels no such need*6 - which far from assuaging our suspicions, rather seems to indicate what we already have so much reason to believe: that the culture which produced these accounts was simply insensible to the dubious nature of their content.

If, after all the arguments have been presented, we have still failed to satisfy what we recognize to be the formal conditions of determining guilt, are we thereby defaulted to taking a passive posture toward God’s alleged crimes?*7 Are we not justified outside of these formal conditions in maintaining private convictions about His guilt or innocence? Might such convictions be justifiable, perhaps, on some informal basis, such as the manner in which He cooperated (or failed to cooperate) with the process itself? If, for instance, He has not been forthcoming in His testimony concerning these events - if He seemed, perhaps, to be obstructing our pursuit of justice - doesn’t this behavior itself demonstrate an attitude of contempt toward our institutions of justice which is unbefitting a holy and perfect God?*8

Implicit in this last consideration is a more general question regarding the extent of obligation imposed upon an individual in virtue of their having pledged themselves to a particular moral standard. In order to explore this issue, however, we must rely on an assumption - namely, that all agents involved in moral interactions with one another are bound by the features of a single, common moral standard. For convention’s sake, then, let us assume the human moral standard to extend over all parties, human or divine.


III. Are There Real Implicit Moral Obligations?

Human morality, whatever its fundamental basis turns out to be (and we will revisit this very question, in fact, in the next installment of our discussion), is at least on some level a social contract between its fellow observers.*9 It was in homage to this fact that, when questioned by the expert in the law as to what was the greatest commandment, Jesus points to two explicitly relational obligations: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind,’ and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself,” - indeed, it is upon these two commandments that “all the Law and the Prophets hang,” claimed Christ (see Matt. 22:35-40).

Insofar, then, as we are assuming human morality to extend over all parties engaged in moral interactions with one another, this social element of morality is being extended over all parties as well. Looking, then, to the structure of our existing social institutions for that particular feature which might ground its function in moral affairs (and thereby define what we mean when we refer to one’s obligations to the social element of a moral system), we discover language. Paul Ricouer of the University of Paris once spoke to this moral utility of language in his consideration of that which he identifies as its fundamental act: the promise. As he reflects,

“How can I speak of a lie without contrasting it with a true statement? And what about reality? How can I speak of an illusion without starting out from that? That means you have to start out from the basis of a true statement - make sure people can rely on your words. I think Derrida somewhere calls it the religious act par excellence: believing someone else’s word. And that’s the basis of all interaction. It’s the basis of a promise. Because a promise is not just any old act: it’s a fundamental act; because it’s based on three things: first, I am bound with respect to myself; second, I am bound with respect to the other person who is relying on me to keep my promise; and third, I am protecting the language as an institution and using it honestly. There are three partners in the promise: there’s me, there’s the other person, and there’s the language itself. So that, I would say, is the basis for trust.”

Now, Ricouer hits on some major moral themes in this statement about language: from the function of promises to define new moral obligations, to the reliance upon both explicit as well as implicit meanings of terms to communicate the content of any particular obligation, to the fundamental interrelatedness of our engagement in the act of promise-making with the development of trust between two parties. Each of these themes acquire an even profounder significance, however, when we consider their applicability within the context of our present inquiry - namely, as governing over our presumed interactions with God. 2 Peter 1:3-4, for instance, designates our trust in the promises of Scripture as the functional means by which believers live out the Christian life. As it reads,

“His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires” (italics mine).

Such an arrangement, however, can present significant problems for Christians when they recognize that such trust is conditioned (if not for the very first engagement, at least for its preservation through future engagements) upon the quality of our experience in interaction with the promise-maker. Long story short, according to Ricouer, if the promise-maker fails to uphold even the implicit content of any particular promise, he would have effectively violated the sustaining principle of our institution of language. Such a violation would amount to no less than a breaking of one’s obligations to the social element of our moral system.

But what do you think? Are there real moral obligations - and, therefore, real moral offenses - outside or beyond those merely formal conditions which the system features? Put another way, are there real implicit moral obligations grounded in the social element of human morality? And if there are, is God guilty of offending them?

Footnotes:
*1 - This kind of defense is used rather effectively to justify the gruesome events recorded in Numbers 31 (see www.christian-thinktank.com/midian.html).
*2 - A nice argument for paternalism can be made on the basis of Christianity’s zoe/bios distinction. Insofar as the Bible equates true life exclusively with zoe, or soul-level life, it is always justified to terminate a life sustained solely on the bios, or biological level whenever the persistence of the latter interferes with the production, or preservation of the former. See for instance, John 6:25-59, 15:1-7; 1 John 5:11-12.

*3 - As Lewis writes, “The relation between Creator and creature is…unique, and cannot be paralleled by any relations between one creature and another…Such a unique relation can be apprehended only by analogies: from the various types of love known among creatures we reach an inadequate, but useful, conception of God’s love for man” (The Problem of Pain, 33).
*4 - A Christian Thinktank. http://www.christian-thinktank.com/midian.html.
*5 - And yet, “He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death, though he had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth.” (Is. 53: 9) And, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree.’” (Gal. 3:13) And finally, “When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left.” (Luke 23:33)
*6 - Although, “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.” (Is. 53:7) And, “Then the high priest stood up before them and asked Jesus, ‘Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?’ But Jesus remained silent and gave no answer.” (Mark 14:60-61)
*7 - As Ken Daniel voiced in his prayer: “How much of this am I expected to absorb and put into the filing cabinet labeled ‘troublesome, contradictory or unjust but accept it by faith anyway’? How much tension can a soul take?”
*8 - It would seem strange, in other words, if God suffered no ill-effects in His ability to relate to us in virtue of His having offended our moral sensibilities. Whatever the fact of the matter may be regarding His guilt or innocence, we have nonetheless been made uncomfortable in His presence due to the natural constraints which our moral sentiments impose on our volitional nature (see Harry Frankfurt’s notion of volitional necessity in The Reasons of Love, especially pgs. 49-50; and The Importance of What We Care About). The following quote by Traherne in reference to natural constraints on God’s love, then, works equally well in the opposite direction: “Love can forbear, and Love can forgive…but Love can never be reconciled to an unlovely object.” (Traherne. Centuries of Meditation, II, 30, as quoted in The Problem of Pain, 28).
*9 - I intend this term loosely, not to refer exclusively to those who make a positive effort to abide by its demands, but to all moral agents as such, whose membership in the larger institution is a mere function of their constitution.

The Moral Dilemma

The following is a prayer recorded by a once Wycliffe Bible translator several years prior to his eventual renouncement of Christianity. Where I thought it helpful, I have supplemented the original text with the relevant scripture references.

“Father God, God of all creation, the one who made me, the one who loves me more than anyone else, the one who desires my well-being, I come to you today with a very heavy heart. Or more precisely, a knot in my stomach. Once again, it appears to me that all I have been taught about the inspiration of the Bible is false. Deep down inside me, I have a very, very strong suspicion that the Bible is human and not divine through and through. You know the passages I struggle with. I can't seem to reconcile my conception of your nature with the way your character is portrayed in the Bible, particularly in the Old Testament. Where do I get this sense of moral injustice when I read about how a master is not to be punished for beating his slave as long as the slave doesn't die, because the slave is his property [Ex. 21:20-21]? There seems to be within me a moral law that stands in judgment of the Bible. Is this internal moral law a product of my culture that is to be submitted to the higher moral law of the Bible, or vice versa? Why does the Old Testament incessantly violate my idea of right and wrong? Why does it regard women in such a poor light? Why are the people of Yahweh supposed to wipe out men, women and children but are allowed to take the virgins for themselves [1 Sam. 15:3, 22:19; Num. 31*]? Why are the sacrifices offered in the tabernacle called food for Yahweh [Lev. 21:6, 8, ]? Why does Yahweh need sacrifices anyway? Can't he simply forgive those who ask for his forgiveness, just as we humans forgive each other? Why do some people get zapped instantly for touching the ark inadvertently while Aaron [2 Sam. 6:1-8], Moses' brother, gets off scot-free after making a golden calf for the people to worship [Ex. 32; Deut. 9:7-29], and then he becomes the leader of the priesthood and the recipient of the best of all the offerings of the people? Why do women suspected of adultery have to go through some bizarre ordeal of drinking bitter water and seeing their womb swell and thigh waste away, while no provision is made for women to test their husbands for the same offense [Num. 5:11-31]? God, the weight of all these troublesome passages, and many more, add up in my mind to foolishness. Or at least an attribution of ancient cultural ideas on the God of all creation. The list goes on: the Bible's endorsement of polygamy [2 Sam. 12:8], the magic of the striped sticks causing sheep's offspring to be striped [Gen. 30:25-43], the assertion that camels don't have split hoofs [Lev. 11:4; see also Lev. 13-23], the mixed use of round numbers and exact numbers in Numbers to justify paying redemption money to Aaron's family, Yahweh's command to hamstring the horses [Josh. 11:6], the barbaric brutality of the Israelites in their holy war [e.g., Judges 1:6-7; Judges 8:1-21; Josh. 10:16-28], the contradictory teachings on divorce [e.g., Deut. 24:1-4; Mal. 2:10-16; Matt. 19:3-9], the many little historical contradictions, the attempt to explain language diversification through a "how-the-leopard-got-its-spots" Tower of Babel story [Gen. 11:1-9], the conception of a young earth which is clearly unattested to by the facts [Gen. 1], the fact that Christians have been unable to agree on so many doctrines while reading the same Bible that seems to say one thing in one place and another in another place, the long process of canonizing the Bible, the vengeful attitudes ascribed to Yahweh when his wayward people are attacked by their enemies [e.g., Is. 13; Hos. 13:16], the sacrifices in Ezekiel's temple that has yet to be built [Ezek. 40; 43:7, 13-27; Heb. 10:14; Rev. 21:22], the vengeance Samson took on his betrayers under the influence of the Spirit of the Yahweh [Judges 14-15:1-8, 16:23-30], the exclusively physical punishments and rewards promised for the Israelites with no mention of heaven until late in the writing of the Old Testament [e.g., Deut. 8:6-18], and on and on and on.
How much of this am I expected to absorb and put into the filing cabinet labeled "troublesome, contradictory or unjust but accept it by faith anyway"? How much tension can a soul take? Why does it seem like I'm just about the only one in my circle of friends that struggles with these issues as deeply as I do? Am I warped, proud, or rebellious? Are you blinding my eyes because I haven't spent enough time with you in prayer lately? Or are the things I'm beginning to suspect--that the Bible is not divinely inspired--true after all? This is not just an academic exercise. The direction of the rest of my life, if not eternity, depends on it. I know that even if the Bible is true, you don't mind my bringing these questions before you, since the Psalms record similarly piercing doubts that David experienced. Father God, take me in your arms just as I would take David or Philip or Corinne [our children] in my arms in a time of trouble, and comfort me with words of assurance and love and healing. I know you are my creator. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you made me and love me. I ask you to have compassion on me and lead me to the truth. I ask you to search me heart and reveal to me anything that displeases you and that stands in the way of my finding the truth about the Bible. Open up my eyes so I can see my sin as you see it, and give me the courage and strength to put it away. I confess that I have been detached from you and my family and friends. I have been living in a world of my own mind, excluding those who are dearest to me. I have been objecting to the inequality of men and women expressed in the Bible, yet I've effectively been reinforcing it in my own marriage by leaving Charlene to do all the household work. Forgive me, I pray, and help me to get back on the right footing. Father, if I could only sit before you and talk with you as a man talks with another man, if only I could ask you what you had in mind when you made humanity and allowed so many different religions to take root and lead to so many confusing, contradictory and sometimes harmful paths. Why are people so gullible to believe so many contradictory things? Muslims believe what they do because they've been exposed to Islamic teachings and social influences, and it seems no different from why Christians are Christians. If no one major religion is the truth, then what is? Do I have to make up a minor religion to get at the truth? Heaven forbid! In my opinion there are already too many religions. Oh, Father, I don't want to be impertinent. I don't want to reject Jesus as the Son of God if he really is the Son of God or equivalent to God. But if he isn't the Son of God, then I don't want to spend my life in Africa proclaiming he is. What do I do, Lord, what do I do? Comfort my soul, Father. Thank you. Thank you for coming over me with your presence and that indescribable peace that assures me of your care for me. You have answered my prayer to take me in your arms and comfort me.
…I love, you Father, even though I'm confused. If my unbelief is unsubstantiated, help me in my unbelief, and may I be convinced that the Bible is indeed your word. If my unbelief is merited, I pray you'll help me know how to proceed from here. In either case, I pray you'll take away the blinders from my eyes that stem from myself, my sin, my culture, my religion or Satan, whatever the case may be. It seems that there are very few who manage to rise above the beliefs of their own culture. It's usually the intellectuals. I have a hard time believing that you would set things up in such a way that only intellectuals find the truth. But I see how grotesque the fruits of anti-intellectualism have been in so many societies, and I don't want to have part in that either. How do I find truth, Father? I pray as I come to you in prayer during this special time of seeking that you will reveal yourself to me in such a way that I can be assured of the truth. I certainly can't find it out on my own or exclusively through intellectual evaluation. I want to seek truth in the way that you want me to go about it, whether it means accepting the Bible by faith, reading philosophy, praying until you reveal yourself to me, going to seminary, meditating, reflecting, talking with others, or any combination of the above. My problem is that I really don't know how to go about it. I need your hand to guide me" (Daniels, Ken. From Missionary Bible Translator to Agnostic, 2003).*1

As you were reading this prayer, did you find yourself sympathizing with many of the sentiments it expressed, particularly as regards the seemingly deviant standard of morality in the Old Testament? How big of a problem is it if you find that the kind of morality ascribed to God in such passages as those cited above conflicts with your internal sense of right and wrong? What kinds of explanations could potentially reconcile the disparity for you? Are there any?

The moral dilemma in Christianity, which we are here encountering, is in my mind one of the most difficult, and most personally significant dilemmas we must work out as would-be Christians. At stake is the integrity of our own modern moral sentiments in the face of an exotic, divine-brand morality: one which seems to allow for, even at times prescribes, such morally deviant acts as murder, rape, and the general mistreatment of fellow human beings.*2 More alarming still, perhaps, is the implication that, as the revelation of God’s moral sensibilities, there is some degree to which we are accountable to its demands. In other words, for every instance in which human morality runs into conflict with divine morality, it is the exotic divine-type that provides the absolute standard. And when the differences among types run as deep as the difference between condemning and condoning rape, discerning which elements of one’s own moral sensibilities are appropriate candidates for reform is no simple matter.

The author of the above prayer at one point notes that “there seems to be within me a moral law that stands in judgment of the Bible.” Later, however, he entertains the possibility of yielding this internal moral law to accommodate the many exotic features of, as he calls it, “the higher moral law of the Bible.” What are your feelings on this prospective resolution? Is it possible that being a Christian might entail the setting aside of our moral sentiments in humble submission to divine-brand morality; and if so, how far should we allow ourselves to stray from our ‘moral home ground’ to conciliate with this higher law? Finally, what practical consequences might we incur by adopting such a policy of moral deference?

In order to answer such questions as these, I propose the following set of considerations (which themselves are merely constituent elements of the larger question in view) to serve us as guides throughout our discussion:

1. Is divine-type morality (as indicated by Old Testament events) equivalent to the best human-type morality?;

2. What is the foundation of divine-type morality?;

3. What is the foundation of human-type morality?; and finally,

4. Can distinct moral-types engage in loving relationship?

Each of these topics which we in turn consider will illumine some new and unique feature of the dilemma which besets us, allowing us to assess our problem piecemeal. Adopting such an approach should safeguard us against the common failings of our rational faculties to guide us steadily through particularly convoluted subject matter.

Such complexities in our topics of discussion often undermine our pursuit of truth by engaging our rational faculties beyond their effectual limits. Often, the nature of these dilemmas is such that we are divided across both sides of the fence, trying our best to preserve certain essential elements of each position, yielding none. In this effort to accommodate large amounts of mutually incompatible data, these faculties accustom themselves to vacillating between several, inconsistent explanatory frameworks in order to preserve efficiency in their practical functions. Often this goes completely undetected on our part until one encounters just the right situation to precipitate the contradiction.*2

Detected or not, however, the contradictions which we harbor in our rational faculties have a significant impact on the resultant quality of our volitional lives. As the contemporary philosopher, Harry Frankfurt writes:

“The psychic integrity in which self-confidence consists can be ruptured by the pressure of unresolved discrepancies and conflicts among the various things that we love. Disorders of that sort undermine the unity of the will and put us at odds with ourselves. The opposition within the proper scope of what we love means that we are subject to requirements that are both unconditional and incompatible. That makes it impossible for us to plot a steady volitional course. If our love of one thing clashes unavoidably with our love of another, we may well find it is impossible to accept ourselves as we are" (The Reasons of Love, 49-50).

Let us apply this principle to our present context. As long as we are unable to fully endorse the one set of commitments (i.e., our own moral convictions) over the competing set (i.e., our felt responsibility to meet the moral demands of God), we are positioned in a sort of moral-practical deadlock. This deadlock will persist as long as we forbear on making a decision about which of the competing sets is most important, or necessary to us. But such a decision does not have to feel arbitrary; nor does it have to prove divisive to our sense of personal integrity. In allowing our best reason and intuitions to act separately upon the various features of this complex dilemma we should find ourselves able to effectively negotiate those inevitable obstacles along the way, and come away in possession of everything we need to construct a rationally coherent, and personally satisfying position - if not unanimously, at least individually.

Disclaimer:
As a last word before trudging all the way into what has the potential to become a long and increasingly tortuous discussion, I want to address those who, on the basis of the formidable prima fascia case against condoning Old Testament morality, are likely to weary of those arguments that seek to vindicate it, perhaps premature to the other side’s readiness to submit a verdict. I ask you to be mindful of what hinges on such a verdict for these individuals, and to be charitable toward the arguments which they present, understanding that, even for those of us who argue to vindicate Old Testament morality, we do not do so on the basis of condoning the atrocities which it appears to sanction (at least I believe this is the case). We are all alike starting down this road with the same motivating principles: firstly, an incorrigible affinity for our native moral sentiments, and an irresistible compulsion to defend them from exotic competitors; but also, and equally important, the need to accommodate ourselves toward what is ultimately true of reality, be that physical nature or a transcendent God. I appreciate everyone’s sustained effort to make this discussion a fruitful one.

Footnotes:
*1 - For full document, visit: http://www.infidels.org/library/modern/testimonials/daniels.html.

*2 - 'Murder' - Insofar as murder can be equated with the taking of someone else’s life on unjustified, or otherwise inappropriate grounds (that is, according to our modern moral sensibilities). Instances in scripture might include the law’s prescription of capital punishment to seemingly undeserving parties: homosexuals (Lev. 20:13), adulterers (Lev. 20:10), children who strike or curse their parents (Ex. 21:15; Lev. 20:9), etc.; acts which could be construed as war crimes: the excessive slaughter of entire races in a military campaign - men, women, and children (Josh. 10:16-28); and certain divine acts: killings perpetrated by God Himself on seemingly indefensible grounds (2 Sam. 6:3-7), or those committed by judges and prophets under divine influence (Judges 14-15:1-8, 16:23-30; 1 Kings 20:35-36; 2 Kings 2:23-24). For a more comprehensive survey of dubious killings, see http://www.evilbible.com/Murder.htm.

'Rape' - Insofar as rape can be defined generally as perpetrating sexual acts against a person who is not completely willing. e.g., Num. 31 records Moses’ distribution of the Midianite virgins as spoils for the fighting men of Israel. God later is recorded as having affirmed this decision in vs. 25-35. So far as we can assume that these captive Midianite women did not willfully become the wives of their Israelite captors, we seem to have a clear instance of grand-scale rape. See also Gen 16:2 and Deut. 21:10-13.

'Mistreatment of fellow human beings' - e.g., slaves, women, and children. See Gen. 21:10; Ex. 20:17, 21:20-21, 22-25; Lev. 12:1-5, 27:6; and Deut. 22:28-29.

*3 - The Socratic method, often proceeding by way of reductio ad absurdum, was especially adept at precipitating these internal contradictions, as is demonstrated in such dialogues as Meno (see Plato Complete Works, 883-884).

Also, William James writes along these lines: “Just as we feel no particular pleasure when we breathe freely, but a very intense feeling of distress when the respiratory motions are prevented, - so any unobstructed tendency to action discharges itself without the production of much cogitative accompaniment, and any perfectly fluent course of thought awakens but little feeling; but when the movement is inhibited, or when the thought meets with difficulties, we experience distress” (The Will to Believe, 64).

The Progression of Religion (Originally posted Oct. 9, 2007) -AS

First off, I apologize for my inactivity in the forum as of late. I'm busy and when I do have the time I very much resonate with your friend in not wanting to write just anything. That being said, I'm going to give a much abbreviated version of some of the issues being raised in my life as of late regarding faith with the hope that such brief remarks will generate further discussion/inquire from others who may be more qualified to speak to the matters at hand or who may have more time to look deeper into them.

I should preface by explaining the root of the issues. I am taking a Survey of History until 1500 course at school that is taught by what I perceive to be a "sneaky humanist", though this is simply a judgment I've made based on the way the course's content is presented. With the guise of objectivity, he manages to paint pictures with the material that are not necessarily imperative to one's study of history. It is so subtle that is it difficult to pinpoint, but as the post progresses I hope to clarify what I mean by that. My other main secular influence is a World Literature professor who is what I think most Protestants would call a Catholic pluralist--ascribing to Catholicism herself, rather devoutly I might add, but at the same time accepting other faith systems as legitimate means to spiritual "enlightenment" though I don't mean to allude to eastern religion at all with that term. Also, she has an IQ of 140. I refuse to allow myself to vocalize my disagreement with her on most things as this usually ends up in an intellectual beat down for me. Don't ask why she is teaching at a community college. She is very big of Jungian (philosopher/psycho-analyst, Carl Jung) Myth Criticism, which, as she explains it in a very watered down manner posits there are three levels of “consciousness” if it can be called that. The first is the personal consciousness. That is where we live day in and day out. It manifests itself through our different personas (friend, brother, son, youth leader, etc.) as a result of our ego (don’t think of that in a pejorative sense…I’m told it is deeper than what we consider ego). Personal unconscious is the next level. Sometimes our personal unconscious can seep through to our personal consciousness. This is supposedly what happens when we have dreams. Our personal unconsciousness is slipping into consciousness, though we aren’t ready to face those as realities yet. Underlying both of these levels is the collective unconscious. It is connected to through the “anima” for men and the “animos” for women. (I really don’t know what either of those mean.) The collective unconscious is just as it sounds, that which is collectively “known” apart from geography, race, gender, religion, creed, and all the rest of that good stuff. This level is exhibited best in the great works of literature. The Bible being one of them, but every other great work being one as well. That was a little rant for you, MR, but I suppose it is somewhat relevant. Another quick note on this before I move on. From my observations, few though they may be, it is not noble to seek to know the source of the collective unconscious. It is much more virtuous to simply recognize it’s existence and be in awe of it. Once responsibility for the phenomenon is shifted to a cause, specifically a deity, it loses its awesomeness. Just a note of interest there.

So, what types of things have these two professors of mine been corrupting this young, pliable mind with? Briefly, I suppose if I had to put it in a box and wrap a bow around it I’d label the box “the progression of religion”. I would guess that most who frequent this forum have heard the arguments against a divine being that rely on the progression of religion as evidence. First, “God” (I use that as a generic term, not referring to a certain monotheistic religion’s with which we are all so familiar nor excluding polytheism/pantheism, etc.) is an animal. Then, we kill so much of that animal that it dies out or something, so then we say “God” dwells inside this holy temple that only certain “priests” can go see. Well, eventually people go inside the “temple” and find no “God” so they say “He” must be atop this very high mountain that no once can climb. Well, we end up climbing the mountain and find “God” is not at the summit. What do we do next? We say “He” resides in the heavens. That is, in the celestial bodies. Well, we look up there with telescopes and eventually fly up there with space shuttles and see no “God”. So naturally, there must be some “heaven” in a fourth dimension or something that is not visible to the human eye where “God” resides. I realize I butchered this, but you get the point. There was a guy who did this a lot more effectively than I have a while back in a book or something, but I don’t remember who he is. Oh well. So, we see a progression of religious beliefs to bring us to where we are today.

*From this point forward my sole historical source is a guy with a masters in history from Mercer University, so if my history is at all off, he is to blame. It is my intention to express the ideas with the bias that he may have provided me with unbeknownst to me.

Long story short, my history professor without coming out and saying it has hinted that a similar progression is seen within the Judeo-Christian context. First, you have the Jews being monolatrous initially. (I’m sure [someone else's] expertise can be useful here in the arena of dating Old Testament books and the relationship of theology to chronology in the OT.) That is, they lived with a polytheistic world but chose to focus on the worship of a particular deity, yet they didn’t damn other deities, they just chose to worship Yahweh. Of course, as the Hebrews progress and by the time we get to the Prophets we see worship of Jehovah alone with much exclusivity there. Nations being punished for worshiping other gods and so on and so forth. Enters Zoroaster.

Zoroaster is the founder of the Zoroastrianism religion. The time of Zoroastrianism’s origin is a matter much disputed by historians with estimates generally ranging between 1600 to 750 BC. Zoroaster (also known as Zarathustra) was a prophet/holy man who renounced “the Lie”. “The Lie” was the ritualistic religiosity practiced by so many of the contemporaneous religions. He, instead, advocated a personal relationship with Ahura-Mazda “Wise Lord”, the “One True God”. Zoroastrianism’s creed has been summed up as “good thoughts of the mind, good deeds of the hand, and good words of the tongue.” The emphasis was on the importance of the individual to Ahura-Mazda, the only true God amongst a world of many idols. Ahura-Mazda’s adversary was Ahriman. Ahriman, a devil of sorts if you wish, had battling helpers who waged war against Ahura-Mazda and his force of spiritual beings in a cosmic battle between good and evil. The prophet’s teachings are copied in the “Zend-Avesta” The Law, which was copied by priests called magi and finalized during the 3rd century BC. Also unique to this faith system was it’s “Last Judgment” in which there would be a resurrection of the dead at which point there would be a trial by fire. For those who rejected “The Lie”, they would be purified by the fire unto eternal life. For the bad, they would be punished by fire as an eternal torment.

I’m sure it goes without saying that there are some remarkable similarities here to some very popular western religions, specifically Christianity. I’m going to go ahead and end here. I realize this hasn’t been the best written of posts, but what do you expect from a flustered college student that is trying to rush things so he can study for his test he has in the morning. I hope that this post has been useful at least in part, if for no other reason than that [someone else] can clear up any misconceptions I have may have gotten. I’d love to hear what everyone thinks. -AS

Faith: Part 3 (Originally posted Aug. 27, 2007)

Let me preface my response by telling you that C.S. Lewis has already discussed this issue at length in the first chapter of The Abolition of Man. By the end of my post, I hope to have provided what I have just asked AS for in my last post - that is, the “shape” of supernatural discernment. But so that we are first all agreed in my general premise, let me describe the “real world” correlative as referenced in Plato’s Republic (pgs. 122-125):

“It would seem…that the direction in which education starts a man, will determine his future life. Does not like always attract like?…Until some one rare and grand result is reached which may be called good, [or] may be the reverse of good?…[so then,] shall we condescend to legislate on any of [the] particulars? I think…that there is no need to impose laws about them on good men; what regulations are necessary they will find out soon enough for themselves…”

“…[but] without divine help…they will go on forever making and mending the laws and their lives in the hope of attaining perfection…[such men] are always fancying that by legislation they will make an end of frauds in contracts, and the other rascalities which I was mentioning, not knowing that they are in reality cutting off the heads of a hydra…” (pg. 122-124)

(If it is not clear what Plato is describing, think of these individuals as the ethical equivalent of a hypochondriac. The person is always troubling himself with trivial matters, when it is his general character which he should attend to. They “strain out a gnat but swallow a camel (Matt. 23:24).”)

“…the true legislator will not trouble himself with this class of enactments whether concerning laws or the constitution [of a State]…many of them will naturally flow our of our previous regulations.”

In the book, Socrates returns later to describe what is to be the emphasis of sound instruction with this illustration:

“You know…that dyers, when they want to dye wool for making the true sea-purple, begin by selecting their white color first; this they prepare and dress with much care and pains, in order that the white ground may take the purple hue in full perfection. The dyeing then proceeds; and whatever is dyed in this manner becomes a fast color, and no washing either with lyes or without them can take away the bloom. But, when the ground has not been duly prepared, you will have noticed how poor is the look either of purple or any other color. Then now…you will understand what our object was in [educating our citizens]; we were contriving influences which would prepare them to take the dye of the laws in perfection, and the color of…every opinion was to be indelibly fixed by their nurture and training, not to be washed away by such potent lyes as pleasure - mightier agent far in washing the soul than any soda or lye; or by sorrow, fear, or desire, the mightiest of all other solvents.” (pg. 128-129)

As C.S. Lewis comments:

“In The Republic, the well-nurtured youth is one ‘who would see most clearly whatever was amiss in ill-made works of man or ill-grown works of nature, and with a just distaste would blame and hate the ugly even from his earliest years and would give delighted praise to beauty, receiving it into his soul and being nourished by it, so that he becomes a man of gentle heart. All this before he is of an age to reason; so that when Reason at length comes to him, then, bred as he has been, he will hold out his hands in welcome and recognize her because of the affinity he bears to her (see Republic, pg. 95-96).’” (The Abolition of Man, pg. 16-17)

Up to this point, we have considered only Plato’s philosophy of education, and it seems to me a good one. Now, is there any reason preventing us from applying the same principles to God’s approach with man? I think, rather, that the Bible supports this principle, as evidenced in the verse below.

“Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is - His good, pleasing and perfect will.” (Rom. 12:2)

The concept is that the heart is like an instrument requiring fine tuning if it is to resonate in harmony with God’s heart. Or perhaps it is better thought of us an antennae which must be regularly tweaked in order to tune in to God’s frequency. Or it could even be thought of as the helm of a ship. This is my personal favorite because it treats the heart as a fixed mechanism with an explicit purpose: to direct the ship. (Furthermore, it isn’t as accommodating of those cutesy clichés as my previous illustrations, and the fewer cutesy phrases I have to use, like “quiet time” for instance, the better.)

People - particularly academia - often ridicule someone who “follows their heart” or “trusts their gut” (by the way, the Israelites also placed the heart’s activities in the bowels and the kidneys, so the terms are interchangeable). Thomas Jefferson says it best:

“'Ridicule is the only weapon which can be used against unintelligible propositions. Ideas must be distinct before reason can act upon them; and no man ever had a distinct idea of the trinity (The God Delusion, pg. 34).’”

Jim Watson, founder of the Human Genome Project, commented: “I’m a bit embarrassed [laughs] because, you know, I can’t believe anyone accepts truth by revelation (The God Delusion, pg. 99).”

And, here comes the slippery slope, we all probably agree that reliance upon feelings is unwise (reminiscent of the Fact-Faith-Feeling train from certain Christian tracts). But telling someone not to follow their heart is, relative to Biblical principles, the equivalent of telling someone not to navigate their ship at the helm. To further illustrate this point, consider Jesus’ rebuke of the Pharisees:

“You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good? For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks.” (Matt. 12:34)

“The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks.” (Luke 6:45)

What I like about the concept of living from the heart - well, one thing anyway - is that our hearts are capable of inspiring actions that we would not have otherwise made intellectually. It allows such experiences as falling in love, bearing someone else’s burdens, or even laying down our lives for someone else. I like that we describe this kind of inspiration in terms of being “swept up” into something “bigger than ourselves.” It seems to reestablish our position in relation to God - we recognize in we do are not doing the work, but participating in the divine nature. It distinguishes us from other creatures, even from ourselves when we are acting as mere creatures, and makes us feel truly human. “…for in the image of God has God made man.” (Gen. 9:6)

But back to the attitude of academia toward what Jefferson would call “unintelligible propositions”, that is, those that are based on some subjective intuition of the heart, let me clarify what is really being debated. What most critics mean when they call a proposition unintelligible is that it can’t be assessed empirically. And to further clarify, let me provide a definition. Empiricism is defined as the way we assemble what we know of ourselves and our world from the "association of ideas" that come to us from our five senses. Sight, sound, taste, touch, smell. But is that all there is? Are the “five senses” really the only contributing constituents to what we acknowledge in our minds as sound reason? Philosophy would not exist if it were. But when we’re studying the natural world, that one side of what many acknowledge is a two-sided coin, all voices besides those coming from our five senses are silenced. And this is what we call being empirical.

And you know what, this is a perfect standard for the field of science. Science is only concerned with the natural, therefore it only makes sense to exclude non-empirical data. The problem comes in when someone becomes so habitually dependent on the natural, that he/she forgets its limitations. It is nothing but a case of nearsightedness. Narrow-mindedness. Bias. None of the terms are meant to offend, only to remind anyone who has forgotten that such a state of mind is quite common. We all do it. But every once in a while, we need to expose ourselves to the many correctives this world has made available. We are acted upon by reality in the same way our government is acted upon by the system of checks and balances. As C.S. Lewis has said, “All reality is iconoclastic (A Grief Observed, pg. 66).” There are experiential counter-weights everywhere, if only we are open to them.

In the illustration below, we see the potential consequence of a life lived shut off from the reality and its iconoclastic nature. As you read it, keep in mind that we are sometimes kept from the reality by forces outside ourselves (as is the boy in the story); but at other times, we are our own imprisoner (as we have just discussed).

“Let us picture a woman thrown into a dungeon. There she bears and rears a son. He grows up seeing nothing but dungeon walls, the straw on the floor, and a little patch of the sky seen through the grating, which is too high up to show anything except sky. This unfortunate woman was an artist, and when they imprisoned her she managed to bring with her a drawing pad and a box of pencils. As she never loses the hope of deliverance, she is constantly teaching her son about that outer world which he has never seen. She does it very largely by drawing him pictures. With her pencil she attempts to show him what fields, rivers, mountains, cities, and waves on a beach are like. He is a dutiful boy and he does his best to believe her when she tells him that the outer world is far more interesting and glorious than anything in the dungeon. At times he succeeds. On the whole he gets on tolerably well until, one day, he says something that gives his mother pause. For a minute of two they are at a cross-purpose. Finally it dawns on her that he has, all these years, lived under a misconception. ‘But,’ she gasps, ‘you didn’t think that the real world was full of lines drawn in lead pencil?’ And instantly his whole notion of the outer world becomes a blank. For the lines, by which alone he was imagining it, have now been denied of it. He has no idea of that which will exclude and dispense with the lines, that of which the lines were merely a transposition - the waving treetops, the light dancing on the weir, the colored three-dimensional realities which are not enclosed in lines but define their own shapes with at every moment with a delicacy and multiplicity which no drawing could ever achieve. The child will get the idea that the real world is somehow less visible than his mother’s pictures. In reality it lacks lines because it is incomparably more visible.” (The Weight of Glory: "Transposition". pg. 109-110)

Needless to say, we have all had personal experiences with individuals who affirm - and under no compulsion - certain feelings or experiences which Christianity presents as evidence of our origins but which science (or more strictly, the monist perspective) disregards. One of the most wide-reaching examples of this kind of experience which I have found is that which Lewis describes as Joy. This experience, when understood as Lewis intended, is to me one of the strongest arguments on the side of Christianity and deserving of a separate discussion all its own. For now, suffice it to say that even atheists are sometimes caught off guard with experiences that draw them outside themselves.

Before closing, I would like to discuss the thing which takes the conversation full circle…I have already suggested that faith is a reliance upon those things which God has made known to us intuitively, in our hearts. But this is a double-edged sword, because as intangibility protects intuition from being ruled out by science, so it also prevents us from making empirical judgments about its conclusions. It, perhaps unfortunately, introduces a measure of subjectivity into the discussion, allowing not the accountability to peer review as does science, but personal accountability to one reviewer: God. As the Bible affirms, “For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the man's spirit within him?…The spiritual man makes judgments about all things, but he himself is not subject to any man's judgment (1 Cor. 2:11).” But if you think about it, is this not a much more appropriate type of accountability for intuitive knowledge, since morality (or better, right standing with God) is at its heart? Morality really goes no further than the heart (as in, there is no prior source). Actions in themselves are morally benign; it is sin in the heart that brings death to the soul. “…but each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death (James 1:14-15).”

For all these reasons, I am inclined to agree with A.W. Tozer’s assessment (I think this is Tozer?) that “God’s voice must speak from within to bring enlightenment. It must be the Spirit of God speaking soundlessly within. That is what brings in man and makes him accountable to God.” (Peter Lord, Hearing God, pg. 20) And if all this is true, true of Christianity at least, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to return to my position as devil’s advocate for a while…the consequence of establishing a system of such immense expectation - that of God entering into intelligible dialogue with man - creates the potential for deep emotional / spiritual wounds to develop. It is as if God signs on to what is very largely, in our experience anyway, a human enterprise, where the rules of engagement are well-agreed upon. How does the God who reveals Himself to Job as an unpredictable, uncontrollable whirlwind (Job 38:1) condescend to such a position? How does He then borrow such emotionally-infused qualifiers as friend, brother, father, and lover to describe His relationship with us? God was not wary, not the least bit cautious, in building up the incredible expectation that exists around Him today. And I find this is a frustrating, an exasperating, promise of scripture that demands our deeper exploration.

(Suggested reading on this subject includes John Eldredge’s Journey of Desire; Peter Kreeft’s Heaven: The Heart’s Deepest Longing; C.S. Lewis’ The Abolition of Man (Chapter 1: Men Without Chests); Peter Lord’s Hearing God, and of course all of the context implied by quotes included in this response.)

Faith: Part 2 (Originally posted Sept. 13, 2007)

Ok, so now that we’ve gotten to the point of proposing a “mechanism” for receiving and discerning spiritual truth, we can move on to testing our hypothesis. Just to recap AS’s definition, let me cite some of his statements along with the supporting scripture references:

“Why do differences in doctrine exist? Sin. Laziness- an unwillingness to do the hard work of interpreting the Scripture rightly, which may include things like learning the original languages and reading books by gifted teachers, etc. etc. Spiritual immaturity or perhaps better stated as a lack of spiritual maturity in certain areas - we may just plain be unable to handle certain truths at particular points in our lives. Bad English translations of the Bible. Who knows what else?”
-AS

“My point in reviewing all those texts you provided that speak of spiritual enlightenment coming via the Holy Spirit was to emphasize I don’t think that the Holy Spirit is necessarily the means by which every spiritual truth is understood.” -AS

“But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.” (Heb. 5:14)

“Think over what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding in everything.” (2 Tim. 2:7)

“I think there is a fine line between understanding spiritual truths as intellectual constructs and understanding them as spiritual insights.” -AS

This is one distinction which I have to recognize. The intellect certainly plays a role in discerning truth, spiritual or otherwise, and intellectual laziness can certainly be blamed for poor theology. Jameson already did a good job providing the scripture to support this point (Heb. 5:14, 2 Tim. 2:7 and 15).

“I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, He will guide you into all the truth, for He will not speak on his own authority, but whatever He hears He will speak, and He will declare to you the things that are to come.” (John 16:12-13)

“Again, I think this is a disciple-limited promise that the Holy Spirit will guide the apostles ‘into all the truth’ in the early church age so that they may speak the very words of God and communicate the ‘whole counsel of God’ to believers as was achieved via the New Testament.”
-AS

Someone could probably ascribe a name to this position, whether it be one of the proposed “dispensations” or something else. Whatever the case, I don’t know that I subscribe to the idea that God revealed spiritual truth to his apostles any differently than He does to us today. Even if I could accept that they received a heightened capacity for discerning spiritual truths, I cannot accept that we operate by any different principle. And it’s the principle that I think we are most concerned with. The simple fact that Jesus refers to the Holy Spirit as the Spirit of Truth in John 14:17 (see also John 4:23-24) reveals that spiritual discernment is one of the roles of the Holy Spirit in the life of the believer. (And anyway, what part of the scripture you cited do you not believe to apply to the modern-day believer?). I think our contention, if there is any, concerns the location of that subtle line distinguishing that truth which is discernible through the work of the intellect versus that only discernible by supernatural revelation. I think in many cases the latter is no more than a unique condition of preparedness to receive the lesson…Spiritual revelation in my experience has always come to me as a sort of chain reaction connecting hundreds of previously understood lessons which effectively produces a glimpse of the larger picture of who God is and what He’s all about. I call that “revelation” because it’s a moment where the intellectual components work together in a uniquely orchestrated fashion that allows me to “see” God. Perhaps the only supernatural part of the whole thing is that God is responsible for directing the course of my intellectual growth that allows that moment of “enlightenment” to unfold (see Ps. 119:130). In this case, maybe the question is more about the extent to which we can expect to hear from God via means other than our intellect. Can you think of any instances in which spiritual discernment is more strongly differentiated from discernment via intellectual constructs. How are such revelations validated? Against what measure or standard are we to test these revelations?

“What I do know though is that we have the Bible. Why? Why didn’t God just give us a systematic theology book that we could just turn to a page and get the answer to whatever question we had under the appropriate heading? I can’t be sure, because I’m not God, but I could guess that one of the reasons is because he wants us to work.” -AS

This is a worthwhile question to consider. Why is the majority of the Bible (particularly the Old Testament) written in story form rather than as a book of systematic theology? Why also, within these stories, would God choose to be less than clear on the intrinsic lesson - assuming there is one (not very didactic of Him, huh Jameson)? As Justin has previously pointed out, the Bible tends to be more descriptive than prescriptive. It tells the story as it happened and very seldom takes the extra step to supplement the events that are occurring with any moral qualification. So, why Story? Let me provide the only possible explanation I have come across as presented in John Eldredge’s book, Epic.

Story is the language of the heart. Or, in other words, the heart receives and frames its beliefs within the construct of story. As Eldredge suggests, “Life doesn’t come to us as a math problem. It comes to us the way that a story does, scene by scene (Epic, pg. 2).” He goes on to suggest that story is also how we figure things out (as evidenced by our fixation with the news, novels, and movies and our tendency to look to them for illumination into our own lives).

This principle has applications to our spiritual life as well. For instance, God uses this tendency to redeem all those dead, stagnant periods of time (chronos in Greek) by providing also divinely orchestrated moments (kairos in Greek) which infuse them with meaning. But if we understood life and internalized our experiences with our bare bones intellect, we wouldn’t find it necessary to draw a distinction between chronos and kairos at all. But the fact of the matter is that we do perceive such a distinction, and this is why human beings love stories. All the elements of a great story - setting, plot, conflict, character, point of view, theme - work because there exists a corresponding quality in our nature. If we can accept this principle, then we’ve understood the premise of Eldredge’s worldview. He goes on to say,

“Every story, great and small, shares the same essential structure because every great story we tell borrows its power from a Larger Story, a Story woven into the fabric of our being - what pioneer psychologist Carl Jung tried to explain as archetype, or what his more recent popularizer Joseph Campbell called myth.” -Epic, pg. 12-13

“Every story we tell is our attempt to put into words and images what God has written there, on our hearts.” -Epic, pg. 73

While I might be missing some inherent flaw in his theology, I think Eldredge’s explanation serves at least one crucial purpose and that is to provide a framework within which we can understand our communion with God. If God has made our hearts to learn and grow through the medium of Story, then it might follow that He meant for our communion with Him to be an experience more centered around the heart than the mind. We can all agree that our intellects are more adept to learning through concise, systematic presentations of facts and principles. Stories, on the other hand, tend to teach us things which our intellect often has difficulty putting to words. The lessons take a “back road” to accomplish its intended purpose. Blaise Pascal writes in Pensées, “The heart has its reason which reason knows nothing of.” We’re all familiar with the idea of a girl’s emotions preceding her intellectual comprehension of those emotion’s source. They cry before they even know intellectually what’s wrong. Stories do that…after watching the movie Braveheart, you might feel inspired to take up arms with William Wallace without ever grasping the politics or necessity of his cause. It moves our hearts, and so we act.

As implied in this framework, Story is the language of the heart; and incidentally, Story is also the dominant form of divine expression available to believers. It must follow that God intended a communion of the heart to be the center of our relationship with Him. Story is an especially powerful tool to teach, grow, and challenge believers in their faith walk with the unique characteristic of transcending the intellectual limitations of its hearers (positive actions can be inspired without the antecedent of intellectual comprehension). This quality of Story relieves the tension that exists between intellectual capacity and one’s ability to “rightly divide the word of truth” (2 Tim. 2:15).

I believe God intended for our heart, rather than our intellect, to be the center of our faith walk. I think this point is communicated in Prov. 3:5-6: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding…”; and Prov. 4:23: “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.” We cannot ignore the emphasis the Bible seems to place on the heart’s activity and the debilitating limitations He has placed on our intellect. In Ecclesiastes 11:5, Solomon writes, “As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.” In 3:10 he writes, “He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” David reflects on God’s intimate knowledge of him and responds, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain (Ps. 139:6).” And Proverbs 25:2 suggests that God conceals things in mystery for the sake of His glory (it’s interesting to consider the “God of the gaps” discussion in this light).

The intellect is indispensable in discerning spiritual truth, but I believe that God intended our heart to be the primary instrument for communion with Him. Granted, the concept of the heart is kind of ambiguous and can hardly be separated from the mental process, but I think we are all aware of the distinction between the type of meditation our hearts engage in as compared with that of the intellect. The intellect, stripped to bare bones, would produce a naturalist or a monist. The metaphysical heart is the bridge between our bare bones intellect and that abstraction which we call the supernatural (see The Abolition of Man, pg. 25). An acknowledgment of both is essential to the Christian worldview, yet they have different means of receiving truth.

So, anyway, let me bring this back to the essential question. How does God’s choice of story form to express Himself (according to Eldredge’s worldview) relate to the discussion of discerning spiritual truth? For one, It appeals to a heart-centered form of communion whereas our discussion up to this point has more supported discernment via the intellect. I feel pretty certain that, if we are to take the Biblical perspective, we are going to have to accept some degree of supernatural discernment which is not so dependent on intellectual capacity. Likewise, I think there are fundamental qualities of the Christian faith that are lost to an intellect-driven faith walk. On the other hand, I think the alternative forces us back into that uneasy territory of subjectivity, which is very difficult to defend. In one last quote, AS, you said:

“But if the primary means through which God speaks is the Bible, and I think it is, it might would be an apt illustration to say that that voice is in a language that needs to be interpreted. Interpretation, of course, involving the intellect.” -AS

What would you propose is the “shape” of spiritual discernment (that not arrived at via intellectual constructs). What does it look like? How is it practiced? What is it and what is it not? Is there communion with God beyond that which is freely accessible through intellectual exploration of His word? Can we truly expect the type of intimacy which many Christians are claiming is available to us or is nearness to God nothing more than harmony with the theology of the Bible? WHY DOES IT SEEM THAT CHRISTIANS ARE CONTINUALLY MISSING IT!?…“Like sheep without a shepherd…” That is the question.

Validity of the Bible: Responses (Originally posted June 2007)

I have decided to begin with the discussion concerning the inspiration and canonization of the Scriptures. I cannot think of a discussion of greater importance than this. Everything that we believe, even stake our lives on, rides on the validity of the Scriptures. Yet, the sad truth of the matter is that far too many Bible believing Christians have very little knowledge regarding this matter, or concern for it. However, that does not mean that there not answers out there. The topic of canonicity is a huge one. We can only hope to scratch the surface in this discussion by talking about specific points of interest. With this being said, I want to recommend some books that can give a more comprehensive knowledge of this (I can lend these out if you anyone's interested). I will only deal with OT canon in this discussion.

General Introduction to the Bible, David D. Wegner- ISBN 0310453712

From God To Us: How We Got Our Bible, Geisler and Nix- ISBN 0802428789

The Journey from Texts to Translations: The Origin and Development of the Bible, Paul D, Wegner- ISBN 0801027993

The Process
First of all, there is little known information as to how the process of the OT canon came to be in terms of specific times and locations. That is to say we have no hard facts concerning any councils that took place among Masoretes, Rabbis, or Scribes. However, that does not mean that there was not a process by which it came to be. Our best look at the actual criteria by which it came to be comes from Josephus (37AD-around 100AD.) in his work Contra Apion. The main goal of this work was to show the great antiquity of the Jewish people, as opposed to the Greeks, who had customs of very recent origin. In this work he gives 3 main criteria:

1) It does not contain contradictions
2) It was written by a prophet or someone recognized as having divine authority
3) It was accepted by the Jews as authoritative

Concerning 2.
In my opinion, this the most tangible of the 3 criteria listed, especially when it comes to the Prophets. Why would a writing from a prophet be considered reliable, or divinely authoritative, if he had not proven himself to be reliable among Israel? For instance, the prophets that warned against the coming Assyrian and Babylonian invasions would not be considered very good prophets if those invasions never occurred. In fact, under the Law, they would be killed (Duet. 18.20). However, this point is not limited to the prophets alone. All genres of literature in the OT can be prophetic. Even narratives such as in the book of Genesis can have poetic discourses that speak of the future (Gen 49). I can only think of 3 OT books off the top of my head that don't seem to be blatantly prophetic at first glance.

Dating of Texts
The issue of prophecy directly relates to the dating of texts. Generally speaking, the presupposition from liberal scholarship is that prophecy does not happen. Many times, this is the overriding factor and sol rational for attributing a latter date to some texts. Or at the very least, they assert that there was an original text but the prophetic parts were added to it after the event prophesied took place. This is why most liberal scholarship, concerning the Servant Songs in Isaiah, leading up to 1947, suggested that they were added in from post AD sources as an apologetic for Christianity. As Patrick mentioned, this assertion was proven wrong by the finding of the Isaiah scroll (in the Dead Sea Scrolls) which was completely in tact and contained all of the Servant Songs. Moreover there is even proof of a messianic interpretation of these texts prior to the coming of Christ due to one of the DSS writers who believed that he was the Messiah because he suffered as the Servant did in Isaiah. Or take for instance the idea that Gen 49 is post monarchial (after David) because of its blatant prediction of a coming ruler from the tribe of Judah. I don't presume to assert that the presupposition that prophecy does not exist is the only factor that liberal scholarship takes into account when dating texts, but many times, it seems to be the overriding one.

Source Criticism
The nature of scholarship is that it builds off scholarship. For instance, the dating of texts, as discussed above has much to do with Source Criticism. When scholarship places a date on a given text, that date limits the amount of sources that could have been possibly used in the formation of that text, according to the date that it is given. In other words, 1 Samuel could not have used the gospel of John as a source because the gospel of John did not exist at the time of the writing of 1 Samuel. But suppose that we found out that the 1 Samuel was written by a by a Jew living in the 2nd century AD. It would at least be possible for the writer of 1 Samuel to have used the Gospel of John as a source. This example may seem a bit ridiculous but things like this happen. Example: One of the common beliefs among liberal scholars is that the Genesis account of creation is based on an “earlier” writing known as the Enuma Elish (Akkadian creation narrative). I personally remember seeing this very thing in my world history book my junior year of high school. However the earliest discovered copy of the Enuma Elish is from around 750 BC The actual autograph is thought to be from around 1700 BC This date has also been challenged by many. Some have dated the original autograph around 1500 BC or even 1400 BC The problem here is that the modern view of the original autograph(s) of the Pentateuch does not even put the Pentateuch on the same playing field with any of these texts. The idea that Enuma Elish could have borrowed from the Pentateuch does not even show up on the radar of liberal scholarship because it has wholeheartedly built its view of the date of the Pentateuch on the scholarship of Julius Wellhausen and his Documentary Hypothesis (J-850 BC, E- 750 BC, D 621 BC, P- 450 BC) as opposed to a Mosaic Authorship of the Pentateuch (around 1400 BC).

Time of Canonization
As mentioned above, we have no records of any councils that took place among Masoretes, Rabbis, or Scribes. However, we do have a general idea of the latest date that the OT could have been canonized. This is due to the name of the OT canon that begins to show up in writings in the 2nd century BC. This name serves as a three-fold division of OT canon, The Law, The Prophets, and The Writings. (We get the name "TaNaCH" from the transliteration of the first character of these three words in Hebrew.) The earliest that we see the name, in a literary work, is in a work called the Prologue to Sirach/Ecclesiasticus (132 BC), only the writer speaks of “the Law, the Prophets and the others that follow them.” The idea here is that from the 132 BC on, the OT seems be have a name by which it is called. A formal name begs the idea there be a formal reorganization of this three-fold division of the OT.

This is complicated, and too much to tackle here. What I have mentioned above is one of the main points of interest. I would refer to the reference works above to get a better idea of all the available texts that clue us into the timing of the OT canon.

Circular Reasoning
I wholeheartedly agree that most of the time, the canon is talked about in a manner that uses circular reasoning (the Bible is the word of God because the Bible says it is). I want to propose 2 ways in which scripture can be used in support of the canon without being considered circular reasoning.

1) Scriptures that claim that scripture is inspired (2 Tim 3:16) may be used to show that inspiration is not something that people have assigned to it. Rather, scripture claims inspiration for itself.

2) Scriptures that allude to other scriptures may be used to determine the timing by which criteria 3 (Josephus) came to be. For instance, Joshua 1:8 says, “This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success.” This shows the author of the book of Joshua’s perspective of the “Book of the Law.” Whether the book of Joshua is inspired by God or not, we have here a documented pre-exilic book that contains an opinion of the “Book of the Law”. (This final point is a product of textual criticism, which gleans facts apart from the consideration of inspiration. It is the approach most often employed by liberal theologians in their hermeneutical practice. - MR)

Validity of the Bible: Part 2 (Originally posted June 2007)

Once you begin to consider the reasonability of self-authoritativeness as a method of validating the Bible, you must eventually backtrack to consider also the theologians’ methods of analyzing the texts. In other words, no one can reasonably designate a text as inspired until they have first sufficiently substantiated its more superficial claims, such as the time in which it was written and its authorship. We must never forget the inherent weight of the adjective, divinely inspired. A claim as heavy as this one invites a level of critique probably far more severe than we have yet had to accommodate, and yet we often treat such critiques as trifle annoyances. What a Christian experiences as a bothersome triviality might, for the non-believer, seem an insurmountable obstacle to belief. My question, then, is how these more superficial claims are being tested by researchers within the field. Are the methods employed sufficient? Are the conclusions drawn continuous with the evidence?

As a necessary preface to this discussion, let me cite Richard Dawkins’ argument for how faith can be positively examined by science:

“’The net, or magisterium, of science covers the empirical realm: what is the universe made of (fact) and why does it work this way (theory). The magisterium of religion extends over questions of ultimate meaning and moral value. These two magisteria do not overlap, nor do they encompass all inquiry (consider, for example, the magisterium of art and the meaning of beauty). To cite the old clichés, science gets the age of rocks, and religion the rock of ages; science studies how the heavens go, religion how to go to heaven (quote by Stephen Jay Gould).’…The moment religion steps on science’s [turf, however,] and starts to meddle in the real world with miracles, it ceases to be religion in the sense Gould is defending, and his amicabilis concordia (lit., friendly agreement) is broken (The God Delusion, pg. 55, 60).”

To paraphrase Dawkins’ argument for our purposes: Although religion might claim certain attributes of itself ‘beyond the realm of science’, there are inarguably certain instances in which the two overlap (such as claims to the age of the earth, the feasibility of Noah’s ark, and - of special concern to our present argument - dates and events cited in biblical texts). Each of these things can be objectively examined within the realm of science, history, or whatever particular field the claims or events happen to infringe upon. However crystal clear this concept might be, and however simple it might sound to distinguish fact from fiction upon these guidelines, the pursuit of truth proves as difficult as ever, as I intend to demonstrate.

Historical researchers often employ science to support or lend credibility to a potential historical truth, but the application of science to the process is limited at best. Historians - or as far as it concerns the Bible, theologians - often adopt a set of criteria by which to analyze the scriptures in order to achieve the most balanced picture of what really happened. Such criteria differs between schools of thought (whether conservative or liberal) and might include such considerations as language used; cohesiveness of thought; literary structure; references to people, dates, or events; plausible influences; cultural conditions; authorship; extent of circulation and reproduction; and archaeological evidence. Historical truth, therefore, is achieved by determining the most likely scenario given the totality of evidence. The items which compose this list of criteria, as well as the priority that each item is given, is going to differ between different schools of thought. One example, and possibly that of greatest consequence to our discussion, deals with the treatment of prophecy. Among conservative theologians, the presence of prophecy within a text might suggest very little in regards to the date of the text; that is to say, prophecy within a text probably holds only little priority in the overall analysis of the text’s age. In contrast, liberal theologians might reasonably consider seemingly prophetic writing as evidence of actual foreknowledge (the writer either experienced or was familiar with the event). There is an underlying assumption, completely justifiable within the secular worldview, that true prophecy (that is, the foretelling of future events) is not possible. From that stance, it might be reasonable to assume that any prophetic passage within a text was either inserted at a later date by an author who possessed knowledge of the particular event - and possibly, whose agenda would benefit from the pretense of prophetic authority - or that the later accounts (i.e., accounts of Jesus’ lineage or nationality) were adapted in order to fulfill the existing prophecy. From the beginning, there is sown within the mind of the evaluator an underlying distrust (it might also be fairly called an objective skepticism) of biblical content. Among conservatives, there is an equally damning presumption of divine inspiration and the authenticity of prophecy. This is how the board is set…our job, then, becomes to find a common ground upon which to intelligently and objectively discuss the matter.

The products of these two methods of biblical analysis are so worlds apart that any comparison between the two would be about as useful as comparing apples to oranges. By the time we get to discussing the conclusions each school of thought has developed, we’ve already wandered too far away from the real important issue. While the products/conclusions are all that matter in science, with history, it’s the assumptions that bear all the scrutiny. While there are certainly reasons certain groups choose to consider particular items in higher priority than others, these reasons are not all equally valid. Justin, since you are more familiar (I’m assuming) with the actual lists employed by liberal theologians versus conservative theologians to analyze biblical texts, would you mind explaining the strengths and weakness of each criteria set? If you could also maybe reference how this whole process has come to exclude certain other texts from that same period (Gnostic gospels, apocryphal books, etc.), I would appreciate it. Also, maybe write something about the Dead Sea scrolls and how their discovery has effected each methodologies claims (i.e., The Isaiah scroll containing messianic prophecy, thus supporting conservative theologians’ assumptions that such prophecies were not edited in, etc.).

Like I’ve previously pointed out, an error in the conservative theologians’ analysis undermines the claim of divine inspiration; conversely, an error in the liberal theologians’ (or secularists’) analysis of scripture potentially opens the door to the reality of prophecy, thus substantiating the Bible’s claims of divine inspiration. Either way, I think within Dawkin’s frame of mind there is room to test the bible to see whose viewpoint withstands the scrutiny (is based on sound reason) and whose doesn’t. If I need to, I’ll cite particular claims made my Dawkin’s refuting the bible’s accuracy and we can deal with those one by one to see what comes up.