2017-10-26T02:06:32-04:00

Oecolampadius2

(3-29-04)

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This is an “outtake” from my 2004 book: The Catholic Verses. It was too historical, and the emphasis of the book is biblical (“the editor hath spoken!”). But this is interesting historical information, I think (at least for a history buff / nut like me), so I saved it for “blog consumption”:

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Martin Luther’s eucharistic theology was much closer to Catholic than to Calvinist or Reformed theology (or the purely symbolic conception, which took it a step further). He believed in the Real Presence, although he denied transubstantiation and rejected the Sacrifice of the Mass. Luther (according to his nominalistic, anti-Scholastic leanings) didn’t want to speculate about metaphysics and how the bread and wine became the Body and Blood of Christ. He simply believed in the miracles of the literal presence of Jesus’ Body and Blood “alongside” the bread and wine (consubstantiation). In this respect, his position was similar to the Eastern Orthodox one.

John Calvin didn’t think much of Martin Luther’s opinion in this regard:

. . . if Luther has so great a lust of victory, he will never be able to join along with us in a sincere agreement respecting the pure truth of God. For he has sinned against it not only from vainglory and abusive language, but also from ignorance and the grossest extravagance. For what absurdities he pawned upon us in the beginning, when he said the bread is the very body! And if now he imagines that the body of Christ is enveloped by the bread, I judge that he is chargeable with a very foul error. What can I say of the partisans of that cause? Do they not romance more wildly than Marcion respecting the body of Christ? . . . (Letter to Martin Bucer, January 12, 1538; in Dillenberger, 47)

Note the arrogance and disrespect inherent in this letter, seeing that Calvin was 28 at the time, and writing about Martin Luther, the founder of Protestantism, who was 54. It is not only Catholics who are guilty of slander where Luther is concerned.

Protestant divisions and the perpetual creation of little competing “kingdoms” (along with the usual petty jealousies present in most such situations) existed from the very beginning of the movement, much as they tried to hide this fact from Catholics, knowing that it was scandalous. It will be instructive to briefly examine the “eucharistic controversies,” as they were typical of much of Protestant internal strife throughout history, and illustrate a certain exegetical confusion regarding the Eucharist.

Calvin was very concerned about the public perception of Protestantism. He could be discreet and wise in public pronouncements but he couldn’t hide his true opinions.

In their madness they even drew idolatry after them. For what else is the adorable sacrament of Luther but an idol set up in the temple of God? (Letter to Martin Bucer, June 1549; in Bonnet, V, 234)

In 1544, Luther blasted the “Sacramentarians” (those who denied his doctrine of consubstantiation and opted for a symbolic Eucharist):

. . . Zwingli, Karlstadt, Oecolampadius . . . called him a baked God, a God made of bread, a God made of wine, a roasted God, etc. They called us cannibals, blood-drinkers, man-eaters . . . even the papists have never taught such things, as they clearly know . . .

For this is . . . how it was accepted in the true, ancient Christian church of fifteen hundred years ago . . . When you receive the bread from the altar, . . . you are receiving the entire body of the Lord; . . . (Brief Confession Concerning the Holy Sacrament, September 1544; Luther’s Works [“LW”], Vol. 38, 291-292)

In this work, Luther calls Zwingli, Karlstadt, Oecolampadius, and Caspar Schwenkfeld (on whose name Luther does a play on words throughout his tract, making it mean “Stinkfield”) -– and by implication those who believe as they do — “fanatics and enemies of the sacrament” (LW, Vol. 38, 287), men who are guilty of “blasphemies and deceitful heresy” (38, 288), “loathsome fanatics” (38, 291), “murderers of souls” (38, 296), who “possess a bedeviled, thoroughly bedeviled, hyper-bedeviled heart and lying tongue” (38, 296), and who “have incurred their penalty and are committing ‘sin which is mortal’,” (38, 296), “blasphemers and enemies of Christ” (38, 302), and “God’s and our condemned enemies” (38, 316).

He described Zwingli as a “full-blown heathen” (38, 290), and wrote: “I am certain that Zwingli, as his last book testifies, died in a great many sins and in blasphemy of God” (38, 302-303). Zwingli had already taken a few swipes at Luther; for example:

May I be lost if he does not surpass Faber in foolishness, Eck in impurity, Cochlaeus in impudence, and to sum it up shortly, all the vicious in vice. (Letter to Conrad Sam of Ulm, August 30, 1528; in Grisar, III, 277)

His successor in Zurich, Heinrich Bullinger, was equally critical:

Everyone must be astonished at the harsh and presumptuous spirit of the man . . . The opinion of posterity will be that Luther was . . . a man ruled by criminal passions.

Luther’s rude hostility might be allowed to pass would he but leave intact respect for Holy Scripture . . . What has already taken place leads us to apprehend that this man will eventually bring great misfortune upon the Church. (Letter to Martin Bucer, December 8, 1543; in Grisar, V, 409 and III, 417)

Philip Melanchthon, Luther’s right hand man and successor, writing to Bullinger on August 30, 1544, described Luther’s Brief Confession (a work on the Eucharist) as “the most atrocious book of Luther ” (atrocissimum Lutheri scriptum, in quo bellum). He had increasingly forsaken his earlier position on the Eucharist and adopted a view closer to Calvin’s, scornfully referring to his former view and that of Luther as “bread worship.”

Ironically, he now adopted a position that he thought should be punished by death earlier in his life (and Lutheran areas had the legal power and Lutheran sanction to carry out the sentence). At length Calvin wrote to Melanchthon:

When I reflect how much, at so unseasonable a time, these intestine quarrels divide and tear us asunder, I almost entirely lose courage . . .
(Letter to Philip Melanchthon, January 21, 1545; in Bonnet, IV, 437)

Calvin wrote his one and only letter to Luther (a conciliatory and respectful one) on the same day, via Melanchthon, but it was never delivered, because – Melanchthon told Calvin – Luther “takes up many things suspiciously” (see Bonnet, IV, 440). Five months later (June 28, 1545), Calvin again wrote to his friend, stating:

I confess that we all owe the greatest thanks to Luther, and I should cheerfully concede to him the highest authority, if he only knew how to control himself. Good God! what jubilee we prepare for the Papists, and what sad example do we set to posterity! (in Schaff, VII, The German Reformation, Chapter 7, §109) 

Calvin, despite his friendship with the Lutheran Melanchthon and (sometimes) avowed respect for Luther, wrote 18 years later:

I am carefully on the watch that Lutheranism gain no ground, nor be introduced into France. The best means, believe me, for checking the evil would be that confession written by me . . . (Letter to Heinrich Bullinger, July 2, 1563; in Dillenberger, 76; emphasis added)

Sources

Jules Bonnet, editor, John Calvin: Selected Works of John Calvin: Tracts and Letters: Letters, Part 1, 1528-1545, volume 4 of 7; translated by David Constable; Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Book House, 1983; reproduction of Letters of John Calvin, volume I (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1858).

Jules Bonnet, editor, John Calvin: Selected Works of John Calvin: Tracts and Letters: Letters, Part 2, 1545-1553, volume 5 of 7; translated by David Constable; Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Book House, 1983; reproduction of Letters of John Calvin, volume II (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1858).

John Dillenberger, editor, John Calvin: Selections From His Writings, Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Co. (Anchor Books), 1971 (Calvin’s letter to Martin Bucer in 1538 was translated by Marcus Robert Gilchrist).

Hartmann Grisar, Luther, translated by E. M. Lamond, edited by Luigi Cappadelta, six volumes, London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., 1915.

Martin Luther, Luther’s Works (LW), American edition, edited by Jaroslav Pelikan (volumes 1-30) and Helmut T. Lehmann (volumes 31-55), St. Louis: Concordia Pub. House (volumes 1-30); Philadelphia: Fortress Press (volumes 31-55), 1955.

Philip Schaff, Philip, History of the Christian Church, New York: Charles Scribner’s sons, 1910, eight volumes; from Volume VII: The German Reformation).

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Photo credit: Johannes Oecolampadius (1482-1531). Originally from the book Bibliotheca chalcographica, hoc est Virtute et eruditione clarorum Virorum Imagines. Heidelberg: Clemens Ammon, 1669. [public domain / Wikimedia Commons]

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2021-11-22T13:48:48-04:00

XPH328355 Triptych, left panel, Philipp Melanchthon performs a baptism assisted by Martin Luther; centre panel, the Last Supper with Luther amongst the Apostles; right panel, Luther makes his confession; Luther's sermon below, 1547 (detail of 51406) by Cranach, Lucas, the Elder (1472-1553); Church of St.Marien, Wittenberg, Germany; (add.info.: Luther, Martin (1483-1546): religious and biblical scenes: predella;); German, out of copyright

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From my 2004 book, The Catholic Verses: 95 Bible Passages That Confound Protestants [two alternate renderings of Luther quotations used]

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. . . [Martin Luther] believed in the Real Presence, although he denied transubstantiation and rejected the Sacrifice of the Mass. Luther (according to his nominalistic, anti-Scholastic leanings) didn’t want to speculate about metaphysics and how the bread and wine became the Body and Blood of Christ. He simply believed in the miracles of the literal presence of Jesus’ Body and Blood “alongside” the bread and wine (consubstantiation). In this respect, his position was similar to the Eastern Orthodox one.

*****

I have often enough asserted that I do not argue whether the wine remains wine or not. It is enough for me that Christ’s blood is present; let it be with the wine as God wills. Sooner than have mere wine with the fanatics, I would agree with the pope that there is only blood. (Confession Concerning Christ’s Supper, 1528, Luther’s Works [henceforth, “LW”], Vol. 37, 317) 

[T]he glory of our God is precisely that for our sakes he comes down to the very depths, into human flesh, into the bread, into our mouth, our heart, our bosom . . . (This is My Body, 1527, LW, Vol. 37, 72)

Protestantism’s founders vary in their interpretation of this verse and in their Eucharistic theology. John Calvin’s “mystical” view of the Eucharist is complex and not quickly summarized or refuted. Ulrich Zwingli (the Protestant “Reformer” of Zurich) held to a symbolic view, on the other hand, which seems to have prevailed among many evangelical Protestants today. We shall concentrate on the exegetical and logical weakness of Zwingli’s arguments in this chapter. He wrote about this passage:

In the words: “This is my body,” the word “this” means the bread, and the word “body” the body which is put to death for us. Therefore the word “is” cannot be taken literally, for the bread is not the body and cannot be . . . “This is my body,” means, “The bread signifies my body,” or “is a figure of my body.” (On the Lord’s Supper, 1526; in Bromiley, 225)

Yet Martin Luther refutes this line of thinking, using the very same scriptures:

[T]his word of Luke and Paul is clearer than sunlight and more overpowering than thunder. First, no one can deny that he speaks of the cup, since he says, “This is the cup.” Secondly, he calls it the cup of the new testament. This is overwhelming, for it could not be a new testament by means and on account of wine alone.  (Against the Heavenly Prophets in the Matter of Images and Sacraments, 1525; LW, Vol. 40, 217)

In that same work, Luther makes a fascinating argument that a purely symbolic Eucharist turns the sacrament into a futile work of man rather than a grace and blessing from God:

He thinks one does not see that out of the word of Christ he makes a pure commandment and law which accomplishes nothing more than to tell and bid us to remember and acknowledge him. Furthermore, he makes this acknowledgment nothing else than a work that we do, while we receive nothing else than bread and wine.  (Against the Heavenly Prophets in the Matter of Images and Sacraments, 1525; LW, Vol. 40, 206)

Martin Luther rebukes the symbolic view of the Eucharist, held by most evangelicals today:

[S]ince we are confronted by God’s words, “This is my body” – distinct, clear, common, definite words, which certainly are no trope, either in Scripture or in any language – we must embrace them with faith . . . not as hairsplitting sophistry dictates but as God says them for us, we must repeat these words after him and hold to them. (Confession Concerning Christ’s Supper, 1528; in Althaus, 390)

[John 6]

Zwingli offers us an example of early Protestant “symbolist” reasoning:

There can be no doubt that only the spirit can give life to the soul. For how could the physical flesh either nourish or give life to the soul?

. . . with his own words Christ teaches us that everything which he says concerning the eating of flesh or bread has to be understood in terms of believing . . . . this passage tells us that the carnal eating of Christ’s flesh and blood profiteth nothing, and you have introduced such a carnal eating into the sacrament . . . (On the Lord’s Supper, 1526; in Bromiley, 206-207, 210-211)

Martin Luther, however, expounded the text otherwise. Preaching on John 6, he stated:

All right! There we have it! This is clear, plain, and unconcealed: “I am speaking of My flesh and blood.”

. . . There we have the flat statement which cannot be interpreted in any other way than that there is no life, but death alone, apart from His flesh and blood if these are neglected or despised. How is it possible to distort this text? . . . You must note these words and this text with the utmost diligence . . . It can neither speciously be interpreted nor avoided and evaded. (Sermons on the Gospel of St. John: Chapters 6-8, 1532; LW, Vol. 23, 133-135)

Luther’s eucharistic theology was not identical to Catholic theology, but it was far closer than to the symbolic view. To reiterate: he thought that Jesus’ Body and Blood were present “alongside” the bread and wine (consubstantiation) after consecration. So Jesus was really there, but the bread and wine were there, too (whereas in Catholic theology, they cease to remain bread and wine after consecration).

1 Corinthians 10:16: The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?

This verse again allows us to observe in a nutshell, traditional Protestant controversies in their own ranks. Catholics interpret it in a literal way, but Protestants differ amongst themselves. Zwingli special pleads in his interpretation of the passage:

[W]hen you offer thanks with the cup and the bread, eating and drinking together, you signify thereby that you are one body and one bread, namely, the body which is the Church of Christ, . . . (On the Lord’s Supper, 1526; in Bromiley, 237)

But Martin Luther again ably refutes this specious interpretation, and offers us a unique insight into a Protestant exegete who had every motivation to disagree with the Catholic Church’s interpretation, but in the end was forced by the text to accept its straightforward meaning:

I confess that if Karlstadt, or anyone else, could have convinced me five years ago that only bread and wine were in the sacrament he would have done me a great service. At that time I suffered such severe conflicts and inner strife and torment that I would gladly have been delivered from them. I realized that at this point I could best resist the papacy . . . But I am a captive and cannot free myself. The text is too powerfully present, and will not allow itself to be torn from its meaning by mere verbiage. (Letter to the Christians at Strassburg in Opposition to the Fanatic Spirit, 1524; LW, Vol. 40, 68)

For Luther, the passage is quite compelling:

Even if we had no other passage than this we could sufficiently strengthen all consciences and sufficiently overcome all adversaries . . .

. . . He could not have spoken more clearly and strongly . . . (Against the Heavenly Prophets in the Matter of Images and Sacraments, 1525; LW, Vol. 40, 177, 181)

Luther thinks the realist, concrete, non-symbolic nature of the verse is obvious, to the point where he seems to be aggravated (the three-time repetition of “it is”) that others can’t see what is so clear:

. . . The bread which is broken or distributed piece by piece is the participation in the body of Christ. It is, it is, it is, he says, the participation in the body of Christ. Wherein does the participation in the body of Christ consist? It cannot be anything else than that as each takes a part of the broken bread he takes therewith the body of Christ . . . (Against the Heavenly Prophets in the Matter of Images and Sacraments, 1525; LW, Vol. 40, 178)

1 Corinthians 11:27-30: Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord. Let a man examine himself, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For any one who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment upon himself. That is why many of you are weak and ill, and some have died.

Again, many Protestants today have lost the sacramental outlook of Martin Luther (and to a lesser extent, even of John Calvin). Baptist apologist James White provides a contemporary version of Zwinglian symbolism:

Participation in the Supper is meant to be a memorial (not a sacrifice) of the death of Christ, not the carefree and impious party it had become at Corinth. (White, 175)

Martin Luther would have a great problem with such reasoning, and in refuting it, he closely approximates what a Catholic response would be. He argues that it is pointless for St. Paul to speak of “sin” here (“profaning” in the text) if Jesus “is not present in the eating of the bread” and that “the nature and character of the sentence requires” this “clear” interpretation. Luther sums up his exegetical argument:

It is not sound reasoning arbitrarily to associate the sin which St. Paul attributes to eating with remembrance of Christ, of which Paul does not speak. For he does not say, “Who unworthily holds the Lord in remembrance,” but “Who unworthily eats and drinks.”  (Against the Heavenly Prophets in the Matter of Images and Sacraments, 1525; LW, Vol. 40, 183-184)

I prefer what is often called the “superstition” of Martin Luther, St. Augustine, and the Fathers of the Church, as it seems to be far and away the most natural reading of all these texts. Augustine wrote:

[I]t is the Body of the Lord and the Blood of the Lord even in those to whom the Apostle said: “whoever eats and drinks unworthily, eats and drinks judgment to himself.”  (Baptism, 5, 8, 9; in Jurgens, III, 68)

The eucharistic “Catholic verses” are some of the most important in the entire Catholic exegetical and apologetic “arsenal.” It can be shown (and I think I have done so) that Protestants are trying to skirt around the edges of them, special plead, eisegete (reading their own prior biases into texts) and improperly denying the straightforward literal reading. This is odd, given the usual Protestant acknowledgment that Scripture is to be interpreted literally unless there are clear indications in the text otherwise.

These passages are so compelling that they played a crucial role in producing a near-unanimous patristic viewpoint of acceptance of the real presence in the Eucharist. Several major Protestant Church historians and experts on history of Christian doctrine note this (for example, Otto W. Heick, Williston Walker, Philip Schaff, Jaroslav Pelikan, Carl Volz). The historical facts cannot be denied. They are unarguable. As just one representative statement, I cite J. N. D. Kelly, perhaps the most-cited patristics scholar:

One could multiply texts like these which show Augustine taking for granted the traditional identification of the elements with the sacred body and blood. There can be no doubt that he shared the realism held by almost all of his contemporaries and predecessors. (Kelly, 447)

Catholics need not be shy in defending transubstantiation or the real presence. The biblical evidence is very strong, and so is the history of the beliefs of the early Christians on this score. We have nothing to fear, and we can decisively win this battle of “competing eucharistic theologies” on the field of Scripture and history alike.

Addendum: An [anonymous] Orthodox Christian who read my paper made the following comment (all-caps emphases are his own):

As a Russian Orthodox Christian, I must say that Luther’s doctrine of the Holy Eucharist was most definitely NOT that of the Orthodox Church. We Orthodox are often misunderstood in regard to transubstantiation. Of course, transubstantiation is a scholastic Latin theological term that the Church of Rome uses to describe its view of the Eucharist. We know that. But it disturbs me when I hear non-Orthodox Protestants saying that Orthodox ‘reject’ a belief in transubstantiation. While we did not invent this term and it is not our preference to use it very much, we Orthodox absolutely accept the sacramental reality of what the term “transubstantiation” is trying to convey. We DO believe that the Bread is TRANSFORMED into the Body of Christ and the wine is TRANSFORMED into the Blood of Christ at the Epiclesis (the Invocation of the Holy Spirit). Now as to HOW that actually happens, we say it is a Holy Mystery. We don’t try to define it with Aristotelian philosophical terms such as “accidence” and “essence.” In fact, the Longer Catechism of the Orthodox Church (sometimes called the Catechism of Metropolitan Philaret) specifically ENDORSES the term “transubstantiation” provided that it is used to affirm the permanent transformation of the Eucharistic elements of bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ at the Epiclesis. As long as the term “transubstantiation” is used to describe the REALITY of the Eucharistic miracle, the Orthodox Church has no problem with it. Only when the term is used to try to describe HOW the Eucharistic miracle occurs does Orthodoxy caution against its uses, because that is something that is understood by God alone.

I reply:

That’s my understanding of the Orthodox approach to the question as well. I don’t see much or any difference at all in how I understand your position and how you just expressed it. You think we philosophize too much; we think that you do a bit too little. But on the essence of the Holy Eucharist we agree.

In my article (from one of my books), I wrote: “[Luther] believed in the Real Presence, although he denied transubstantiation . . . Luther . . . didn’t want to speculate about metaphysics and how the bread and wine became the Body and Blood of Christ.”

My emphasis was on the similarity of belief in the Real Presence and antipathy to “excessive” explanation: common to both Lutheranism and Orthodoxy. I didn’t mean to imply that Orthodox deny a transformation. I can see, however, that I worded it a bit imprecisely.

SOURCES 

Paul Althaus, The Theology of Martin Luther, translated by Robert C. Schultz, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1966.

G. W. Bromiley, editor and translator, Zwingli and Bullinger, (The Library of Christian Classics series), Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1953.

William A. Jurgens, editor and translator, The Faith of the Early Fathers, Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, three volumes, 1979.

J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, San Francisco: Harper & Row, revised edition of 1978.

Martin Luther, Luther’s Works (LW), American edition, edited by Jaroslav Pelikan (volumes 1-30) and Helmut T. Lehmann (volumes 31-55), St. Louis: Concordia Pub. House (volumes 1-30); Philadelphia: Fortress Press (volumes 31-55), 1955.

James R. White, The Roman Catholic Controversy, Minneapolis: Bethany House Publishers, 1996.

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Photo credit: The Last Supper (with Luther amongst the Apostles) (1530s), by Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472-1553) [public domain / Wikimedia Commons]

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2017-09-01T15:53:51-04:00

PeterKeys2

Christ Handing the Keys to St. Peter (c. 1482) by Pietro Perugino (1448-1523) [public domain / Wikimedia Commons]

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 (9-30-03)

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Jason Engwer and I have quite a dialogical history. This particular larger debate encompasses the following four exchanges, in consecutive order, each (after the first) responding to the previous paper:
A Pauline Papacy” (Jason)
Jason has stated that I didn’t answer his last paper above, as if (by implication) this indicates my inability to do so, and the triumph of his arguments. Lest anyone think Jason’s last paper cannot be refuted, I have decided to now do so.
Jason’s words below will be in blue. Portions from the previous paper of mine will be indented, with the color schema maintained.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I. Development of Doctrine: Papacy, Trinitarianism, and the Canon of Scripture / The Logical Circularity of Protestant Authority Structures
II. The Historical Roman Primacy and Deductive Biblical Evidences Logically Leading to the Papacy
III. Doctrinal Development of the Papacy, Revisited
IV. Patristic Understanding of the Papacy and Serious Biblical Exegesis
V. The Uniqueness of Jesus’ Commission to St. Peter as Leader of the Church
VI. Effective and Illegitimate Uses of the Reductio ad Absurdum Logical Argument / Replies to Charges of Inconsistency
VII. Jason Engwer’s Systematic Ignoring of Protestant Scholarly Support for Catholic Petrine Arguments
VIII. The Relative Authority of St. Paul and St. Peter in the Early Church
IX. Was St. Clement the Sole Bishop of Rome and an Early Pope?
X. St. Peter and St. Paul at the Jerusalem Council (Acts 15)
XI. Concluding Remarks: Peter the First Pope
* * * * *
 
I. Development of Doctrine: Papacy, Trinitarianism, and the Canon of Scripture / The Logical Circularity of Protestant Authority Structures

Dave has conceded, in his response to me, that some of his wording in his original article went too far. He’s changed the wording. That’s a step in the right direction. But it’s not enough. 

Here is what I stated (for the record):

. . . Catholic apologist Dave Armstrong says that the evidence “is quite strong, and is inescapably compelling by virtue of its cumulative weight”. 

I think it is very strong, certainly stronger than the biblical cases for sola Scriptura and the canon of the New Testament (which are nonexistent). “Inescapingly compelling” is probably too grandiose a claim (few things are that evident), and I will change that language (but not all that much) in the original tract.

The First Vatican Council refers to the universal jurisdiction of Peter as a clear doctrine of scripture that has always been held by the Christian church. The same Roman Catholic council claims that the bishops of Rome were always perceived as having universal jurisdiction as the exclusive successors of Peter. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that all Christians of the first century viewed the Roman church as their only basis and foundation. Dave is therefore contradicting the teachings of his denomination when he suggests that the papacy could be “in kernel form” and “not explicit” in the New Testament. 

Not at all. This is a classic example of Jason not comprehending my previous argument about development and the papacy, which I set forth in my previous exchanges on development with Jason. I also refuted a very similar argument (twice now) from the anti-Catholic Protestant apologist William Webster, who makes many of the same historical arguments that Jason offers:

“Refutation of William Webster’s Fundamental Misunderstanding of Development of Doctrine”

“Refutation of Protestant Polemicist William Webster’s Critique of Catholic Tradition and Newmanian Development of Doctrine”

My reply here would be no different from that in the above papers, so I refer the reader to them. I don’t like taking up more space on my website for things that are already on it elsewhere. It would also be nice if Jason would give a citation to what particular section of the Catechism he refers to, so I can sensibly respond to his charge. But I can assure the reader (as a Catholic apologist who specializes in development of doctrine and Cardinal Newman’s particular classic exposition of it) that Jason has only a very dim understanding of development of doctrine and how a Catholic views it. This has been demonstrated throughout our many dialogues.

Dave claims, in his reply to me, that the papacy developed in a way comparable to the development of Trinitarian doctrine and the canon of scripture. He writes: 

Does Jason really think it’s reasonable to expect me to explain to him why passages like 1 John 5:7 and Isaiah 9:6 and Zechariah 12:10 don’t logically lead to Chalcedonian trinitarianism and the Two Natures of Christ?

I never made the argument Dave is responding to. I never argued that 1 John 5:7, Isaiah 9:6, and Zechariah 12:10 teach every aspect of Trinitarian doctrine Dave has mentioned. 

It’s a rhetorical argument from analogy. I didn’t claim that Jason made the argument (it’s not required that he did in this form of argumentation). I was trying to show that all doctrines develop in similar fashion: as the Trinity developed from (oftentimes) kernels in the New Testament, so does the papacy also develop. Nor does the fact that there is much more indication of the Trinity in the NT than the papacy affect the validity of the parallel being made, because it is one of the principle of development from kernel to full-grown plant, not one concerning the various degrees of evidences for different doctrines (which is a given).

The canon of the biblical books also developed and there is not a shred of evidence in the Bible itself for an authoritative list of books which were to be regarded as the Bible; not one iota. But that doesn’t bother Jason at all. He accepts the canon even though such acceptance presupposes the binding authority of men’s ecclesiastical councils: an authority every Protestant ostensibly denies as a fundamental principle and matter of their own Rule of Faith (sola Scriptura).

The Protestant can’t appeal to Scripture itself as corroboration of the determination of the canon, so he must fall back strictly on Church authority. This is an internal contradiction and incoherence. And Jason applies an “epistemological double standard,” so to speak, since he is only concerned with knocking down and minimizing distinctively Catholic doctrines, no matter how similar in principle and nature the biblical evidence for them is to the biblical evidence for those doctrines which Protestants and Catholics hold in common.

What a passage like Isaiah 9:6 teaches us is that Christ is God and man. Other passages refer to the Holy Spirit as God (Acts 5:3-4), refer to all three Persons existing at the same time (Matthew 3:16-17), and refer to Jesus being made like us (Hebrews 2:17), learning (Luke 2:52), being tempted as we are (Hebrews 4:15), not knowing the future (Mark 13:32), having two wills (Luke 22:42), etc. Some disputes arose in the post-apostolic centuries regarding the implications of Jesus’ manhood, for example, but no Christian today is dependent on those later disputes in order to know the truth.

They certainly are, and were, just as they were dependent upon councils to know for sure what books belonged in the Bible. The a-historical game that many Protestants play simply won’t fly here. It’s easy to look back in retrospect and pretend that all these things were clear in the Bible, so that councils were not necessary. But the historical fact remains that there were many disagreements and disputes, and they had to be settled. Councils and popes did that, not the Bible on its own.

How can a book settle a dispute about its own interpretation? That would be like saying that the US Constitution can settle all disputes about what it allows and disallows legally, simply by being self-evidently clear in all respects. Why, then, have constitutional jurisprudence at all? The same applies to the Bible. The Two Natures of Jesus is only very minimally alluded to in the New Testament. And that was the point of my statement above. The sort of trinitarian proofs we often see in Scripture, compared to the subtleties and complexities of Chalcedonian trinitarianism and Christology, are scarcely any different in essence and kind from Matthew 16 and the other indications of the papacy as compared to the fully-developed 1870 definition of papal infallibility. That was my analogy, and it has not been overcome.

If scripture teaches concepts such as monotheism (Isaiah 43:10), the deity of the three Persons (John 1:1, Acts 5:3-4), and the co-existence of the three Persons (Matthew 3:16-17), those doctrines have logical implications. 

I have no disagreement with any of the strictly biblical analysis of trinitarian development above. Jason is correct. Where he goes wrong is in denying the crucial, necessary role of councils and in asserting that there is a fundamental difference in principle between trinitarian and papal development. This he has not shown.

If later church councils accurately describe those implications, then Christians should accept the teachings of those councils. If the councils don’t accurately describe the implications of those Biblical doctrines, then Christians should reject what the councils have taught. 

But of course this is a circular argument. It’s the old Protestant saw of “just going back to the Bible to get the truth” and judging councils accordingly. That breaks down as soon as two Protestants disagree what the Bible teaches. So (in the end) all that occurs is a transference of authority from some ancient council to two warring Protestants (say, Luther vs. Calvin, or Zwingli vs. Menno Simons). The whole thing begs the question by assuming it is all so clear in the Bible, when in fact the Bible is only clear to the extent that various Protestant factions agreeon any one of its teachings. Since they don’t agree, then the question of authority returns right back to where we started.

Catholics, on the other hand, contend that ecumenical Church councils carry a binding authority, and are infallible by virtue of the protection of the Holy Spirit. That is a consistent position (whether one believes it or not). The Protestant position is inconsistent because it claims a “perspicuous” Bible, which cannot be demonstrated in real life. It purports to deny binding authority of mere men and ecclesiastical institutions, yet turns around and expects people to believe (and — in the final analysis — put their trust in) the non-infallible competing Protestant “authorities” even though they claim no infallibility for themselves. One accepts Luther or Calvin or Zwingli or any of the rest simply because they are more “biblical” and some sort of self-anointed supreme authority in their own arbitrary domain. So it never ends. It is an endless circle of division and inability to arrive at truth with the epistemological certainty of faith.

II. The Historical Roman Primacy and Deductive Biblical Evidences Logically Leading to the Papacy
Since there’s nothing in the Bible that logically leads to the concept that Roman bishops have universal jurisdiction, the comparison between the papacy and Trinitarian doctrine is fallacious.

Again, this simply assumes what it is trying to prove, and is no argument. I gave these arguments at great length. Jason chose to substantially ignore them, pretend they don’t exist (even if he disagrees with them) and then proclaim triumphantly (but falsely) that nothing in the Bible suggests an authoritative leader of the Church, and that no development subsequently can be deduced from earlier biblical kernels. It is true that the primacy of the Roman bishop is not a biblical concept, strictly-speaking. It is a logical deduction based on actual history.

Peter was the first leader of the Church. He died as the bishop in Rome (where Paul also died). That is why Roman primacy began: because Peter’s successor was the bishop in the location where he ended up and died. But this is no more impermissible than a strictly historical process of determining the canon, which is itself utterly absent from the Bible. If one is to ditch all history, then the canon goes with it, and that can’t happen, because the Protestant needs to know what the Bible is in order to have his principle of sola Scriptura. It’s inescapable.

Under what circumstances would Trinitarian doctrine be comparable to the doctrine of the papacy? Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that passages like Matthew 28:19 and Acts 5:3-4 didn’t exist. Let’s say that there were no such passages referring to the deity of the Holy Spirit. And let’s say that I argued that we should believe in the deity of the Holy Spirit because of evidence similar to what Dave has cited to argue for the papacy. What if I was to argue for the deity of the Holy Spirit by counting how many times the Holy Spirit is mentioned in the Bible? What if I was to argue that the Holy Spirit is God by pointing out that the Holy Spirit is given the title of Helper? Would such arguments logically lead to the doctrine of the deity of the Holy Spirit? No. They wouldn’t lead to that conclusion individually or cumulatively. When Dave counts how many times Peter’s name is mentioned in the New Testament or refers to Peter being given a name that means “rock”, such arguments don’t logically lead to the conclusion that Peter and the bishops of Rome have papal authority. 

Jason shows again that he is not interacting with the answers I have already given to these charges. One tires of this sort of “method.” It certainly isn’t dialogue when someone uses the following procedure:

1) ignore the other person’s argument which replied to yours.
2) state your own argument again.
3) pretend that the first person never replied to your argument, and claim “victory.”

Dave asks that we consider the cumulative weight of his list of Biblical proofs. But you can’t produce a good argument by stringing together 50 bad arguments. 

This begs the question. Jason’s task was to overcome each of my 50 proofs for Petrine primacy by force of argument. That is how (and only how) he proves they are “bad.” Jason is now in the habit of making summary statements rather than arguments.

There isn’t a single proof Dave has cited that logically leads to a papacy by itself. 

That’s simply not true. The “rock” passage and “keys of the kingdom,” when properly and thoroughly exegeted (as they have been, by many Protestant scholars, as I documented), lead straightforwardly to the conclusion of an authoritative leader of the Church: from the Bible alone. But Jason refuses to interact with any of that part of my argument. Perhaps he never read these portions of my paper at all?

But Isaiah 43:10 does lead to monotheism by itself. John 1:1 does lead to the deity of Christ. Hebrews 2:17 does lead to the manhood of Christ. Etc. 

This is true. They certainly do. In fact, they don’t even lead to those things. They state them outright. I only disagree that there are no such verses for the papacy. The things which have no biblical support whatever are the canon of the Bible and sola Scriptura. I’ve yet to see how 2 Timothy 3:16-17 (the classic sola Scriptura so-called “prooftext”) leads logically to sola Scriptura. If Jason is so concerned about logical reduction and inevitabilities, he can start in these two places.

. . . If any teaching of a post-apostolic council isn’t a logical conclusion to what Jesus and the apostles taught, then Christians can and should reject what that council taught. 

That gets back to the radical logical circularity described above: who decides what the apostles taught? And on what grounds of authority?

We accept the Trinitarian conclusions of post-apostolic councils because Biblical teaching leads to those conclusions, not because of some alleged Divine inspiration or infallibility of those councils. Trinitarian doctrine is the logical conclusion to Biblical teaching. But nothing in the teachings of Jesus and the apostles logically leads to the doctrine of the papacy. 

Oh, so when Zwingli said that the Eucharist was purely symbolic and Luther replied that it was the bread and body of Christ alongside the bread and the wine, how does the individual decide which one was correct in his teaching, since neither was infallible? When Calvin said that baptism doesn’t regenerate, whereas Luther said that it did, and then the Anabaptists opposed them both by saying that infants shouldn’t be baptized, who are we to believe?

We are told, of course, that each person figures this out from the Bible (like the Bereans). And thus we are back to circularity and arbitrariness. If the choice boils down to the individual with his Bible vs. ancient councils filled with learned and holy bishops (people like St. Augustine and St. Athanasius), I would much rather believe in faith that the latter possessed the charism of infallibility than I would believe that Joe Q. Protestant carried such infallibility (given the endless contradictions in the various Protestant theologies).

Here’s the reasoning evangelicals follow with regard to Trinitarian doctrine: 

1. Jesus and the apostles taught that X is true of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, and/or God in general. 
2. X logically leads to Y. 
3. Therefore, Y is true of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, and/or God in general in a way that’s consistent with everything else Jesus and the apostles taught.

For example, Jesus and the apostles taught that Jesus became a man. Being a man involves a number of things. We therefore reach some conclusions about Jesus as a result of His manhood, whether something as insignificant as Jesus having fingernails or something as significant as Jesus having a human nature.  Dave’s reasoning with regard to the papacy is: 

1. Jesus and the apostles taught that X is true of Peter. 
2. X logically leads to Y. 
3. Therefore, Y is true of Peter in a way that’s consistent with everything else Jesus and the apostles taught.

For example, Jesus and the apostles taught that Peter was given a name that means “rock”. But here’s where Dave’s comparison to Trinitarian doctrine fails. Being given the name “rock” does not logically lead to the conclusion that a person has universal jurisdiction in the Christian church. 

“Rock” has significance once one understands the exegetical import of the argument. But that is precisely what Jason refuses to do. He would much rather engage in the sport and fun of caricaturing the argument and gutting it of its most important element, presenting it anew as if his gutted version were my own, and then dismissing the straw man of his own making. The exegetical argument hinges on whether the “Rock” is Peter or merely his faith. If the former, then it has the utmost significance, for Jesus proceeds to say that “upon this Rock I will build My Church.” Thus, the logic would work as follows:

1. Peter is the Rock.
2. Jesus builds His Church upon the Rock, which is Peter.
3. Therefore Peter is the earthly head of the Church.

This is straightforward; it is easily understood. If I may be allowed a little “analogical license,” I submit that a comparison to well-known athletes might make this more clear:

1. Babe Ruth was the Rock of the New York Yankees in the 1920s.
2. The owner of the Yankees built his team upon that Rock.
3. Therefore, Babe Ruth was the leader or “head” of the Yankees; the team captain.

Lou Gehrig was certainly an important member of that team as well, but he wasn’t the leader as long as Babe Ruth was there. He was for a few years after Ruth departed; then Joe Dimaggio was after Gehrig caught his fatal disease and died, and Mickey Mantle followed Dimaggio, and Reggie Jackson was the leader in the 70s, etc. (a sort of “team leader succession” akin to apostolic or papal succession). Or, to come up to recent times (and switching over to basketball):

1. Michael Jordan was the Rock of the Chicago Bulls in the 1990s.
2. The owner of the Bulls built his team upon that Rock.
3. Therefore, Michael Jordan was the leader or “head” of the Bulls; the team captain.

Scottie Pippen was certainly an important member of that team as well, but he wasn’t the leader as long as Michael Jordan was there. Etc.

And it becomes an even stronger argument when the OT background of the “keys of the kingdom” (which is also specifically applied to Peter) is understood, in terms of the office of chief steward or major domo of the OT monarchical government in Israel. I went through this in earlier papers, and I refuse to cite it all again simply because Jason didn’t grasp the exegetical and linguistic argument the first time. I will cite just a little bit of the previous Protestant support I provided for the notion that Peter (not his faith) was the Rock (bolding added):

Many prominent Protestant scholars and exegetes have agreed that Peter is the Rock in Matthew 16:18, including Henry Alford, (Anglican: The New Testament for English Readers, vol. 1, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker, 1983, 119), John Broadus (Reformed Baptist: Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew, Valley Forge, Pennsylvania: Judson Press, 1886, 355-356), C. F. KeilGerhard Kittel (Lutheran: Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, vol. VI, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1968, 98-99), Oscar Cullmann (Lutheran: Peter: Disciple, Apostle, Martyr, 2nd rev. ed., 1962), William F. Albright, Robert McAfee Brown, and more recently, highly-respected evangelical commentators R.T. France, and D.A. Carson, who both surprisingly assert that only Protestant overreaction to Catholic Petrine and papal claims have brought about the denial that Peter himself is the Rock.

That’s nine so far. I went on to document other Protestants who held this view:

10) New Bible Dictionary (editor: J. D. Douglas).
11) Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1985 edition, “Peter,” Micropedia, vol. 9, 330-333. D. W. O’Connor, the author of the article, is himself a Protestant.
12) New Bible Commentary, (D. Guthrie, & J. A. Motyer, editors).
13) Peter in the New Testament, Raymond E Brown, Karl P. Donfried and John Reumann, editors, . . . a common statement by a panel of eleven Catholic and Lutheran scholars.
14) Greek scholar Marvin Vincent.

If Peter was the Rock, as all these eminent scholars believe, then the argument is a straightforward logical one leading to the conclusion that Peter led the Church, because Jesus built His Church upon Peter. If there was a leader of the Church in the beginning, it stands to reason that there would continue to be one, just as there was a first President when the laws of the United States were established at the Constitutional Convention in 1787. Why have one President and then cease to have one thereafter and let the executive branch of government exist without a leader (or eliminate that branch altogether and stick with Congress — heaven forbid!!!!!)?

Catholics are, therefore, simply applying common sense: if this is how Jesus set up the government of His Church in the beginning, then it ought to continue in like fashion, in perpetuity. Apostolic succession is a biblical notion. If bishops are succeeded by other bishops, and the Bible proves this, then the chief bishop is also succeeded by other chief bishops (later called popes). Thus the entire argument (far from being nonexistent, as Jason would have us believe) is sustained and established from the Bible alone. All my other 47 proofs in my original list of 50 are supplementary; icing on the cake. The doctrine is proven from the first three proofs in and of themselves.

So how does Jason decide to reply to the 50 evidences? He largely ignores the first three very strong and explicitly biblical evidences (backed up by massive Protestant scholarly corroboration) and concentrates on the 47 much-lesser proofs; ridicules them and then makes out that I am claiming something for them far more than I ever intended to (as painstakingly clarified in my last response to him on this issue). This will not do.

Likewise, being given the keys of the kingdom of Heaven doesn’t logically lead to the conclusion that a person has papal authority, 

It does, when one does the exegesis and extensive cross-referencing (which I have done using almost all Protestant scholarly sources) that Jason refuses to do. Why should he continually ignore the very heart and “meat” of my arguments?

and the keys aren’t unique to Peter anyway. 

Peter is the only individual who is given these keys by Jesus. That’s the very point, and then — if we are serious Bible students — we look and see what it means by comparing Scripture with Scripture. There is an Old Testament background to this which is very fascinating and enlightening. But if Jason doesn’t read the extensive exegetical arguments I provided in my first paper or reads them but then promptly forgets and ignores them, the discussion can hardly proceed.

Dave can’t cite any teaching of Jesus and the apostles that logically leads to papal authority for Peter, much less for Roman bishops. 

More of the same dazed noncomprehension (or utter unawareness) of my arguments . . .

This is why I told Dave, in my first discussion with him two years ago, that we ought to distinguish between possibilities on the one hand and probabilities and necessities on the other hand. Drawing papal conclusions from the name “rock” or possession of the keys of the kingdom of Heaven is neither probable nor necessary. 

Indeed we ought to. And we also ought to distinguish between answers on the one hand and non-responses and evasions on the other hand.

Dave’s comparison to Trinitarian doctrine also fails at step three of the argument described above. Peter having papal authority is not consistent with all that Jesus and the apostles taught. The New Testament repeatedly uses images of equality to refer to the apostles: twelve thrones (Matthew 19:28), foundation stones of the church (Ephesians 2:20), the first rank in the church (1 Corinthians 12:28), twelve foundation stones of the New Jerusalem (Revelation 21:14), etc. Paul’s use of the word “reputed” in Galatians 2:9 suggests that he considered it inappropriate to single out some of the apostles in the context of authority. 

All apostles have great authority (as do their successors, the bishops), but Peter and his successors, the popes had more, and were preeminent, for the reasons I have given in past papers.

The apostles had equal authority, which is why Paul repeatedly cites his equality with the others. He came to Jerusalem for the right hand of fellowship (Galatians 2:9), for coordination, not subordination (Galatians 2:6). That Peter would be grouped with two other people, and would be named second among them in this context (Galatians 2:9), makes it highly unlikely that he was viewed as the ruler of all Christians on earth. 

In a recent paper on sola Scriptura, I dealt with this authority issue. The biblical picture is not quite how Jason presents it:

We find ecclesiastical authority in Matthew 18:17, where “the church” is to settle issues of conflict between believers. Above all, we see Church authority in the Jerusalem Council (Acts 15:6-30), where we see Peter and James speaking with authority. This Council makes an authoritative pronouncement (citing the Holy Spirit — 15:28) which was binding on all Christians:

. . . abstain from what has been sacrificed to idols and from blood and from what is strangled and from unchastity. (15:29)

In the next chapter, shortly thereafter we read that Paul, Timothy, and Silas were traveling around “through the cities.” Note how Scripture describes what they were proclaiming:

. . . they delivered to them for observance the decisions which had been reached by the apostles and elders who were at Jerusalem.
(Acts 16:4)

. . . Even the apostle Paul was no lone ranger. He did what he was told to do by the Jerusalem Council. As I wrote in my biblical treatise on the Church (where many additional biblical indications of Church authority can be found):

In his very conversion experience, Jesus informed Paul that he would be told what to do (Acts 9:6; cf. 9:17). He went to see St. Peter in Jerusalem for fifteen days in order to be confirmed in his calling (Galatians 1:18), and fourteen years later was commissioned by Peter, James, and John (Galatians 2:1-2,9). He was also sent out by the Church at Antioch (Acts 13:1-4), which was in contact with the Church at Jerusalem (Acts 11:19-27). Later on, Paul reported back to Antioch (Acts 14:26-28).

Dave is correct when he says that Peter is named “rock”, that Peter was given the keys of the kingdom, etc. But his argument fails when you get to steps two and three in the argument I’ve described above. The papacy is not in the same category as Trinitarian doctrine. 

More of the same weak rhetoric . . . already answered above.

Dave’s comparison to the canon of scripture is likewise erroneous. I discuss this issue in a reply to Dave elsewhere at this web site (http://members.aol.com/jasonte3/devdef4.htm). To go from the unique authority of the apostles to the unique authority of apostolic documents isn’t the same as going from Matthew 16 to the concept of Roman bishops having universal jurisdiction. 

Sure it is the same; there is no essential difference. Both aspects develop and both require human ecclesiastical judgments. There is no biblical evidence whatsoever for the list of biblical books, but there is plenty for the papacy. So I contend that the argument for the canon (from a Protestant perspective) is far weaker (by their own “biblical” criteria) than our argument for the papacy, which is supported by strong and various exegetical arguments.

Concepts such as the canonicity of Paul’s writings and God’s sovereignty over the canon are logical conclusions to what Jesus and the apostles taught. 

Concepts such as the papacy and Peter’s headship over the Church are logical conclusions flowing from what Jesus and the apostles taught.

The idea that Peter and the bishops of Rome are to rule all Christians on earth throughout church history is not a logical conclusion to what was taught by Jesus and the apostles. 

Jason needs to overcome the exegetical arguments. He hasn’t even attempted this, let alone accomplished it.

III. Doctrinal Development of the Papacy, Revisited
Were there Trinitarian and canonical disputes during the early centuries of Christianity? Yes. But evangelicals don’t claim that all aspects of Trinitarian doctrine and the 27-book New Testament canon were always held by the Christian church. 

Were there disputes about ecclesiology and the papacy during the early centuries of Christianity? Yes. But Catholics don’t claim that all aspects of ecclesiology and the papacy were always held by the Christian church: only that the essential aspects (some only in kernel form originally) were passed down in the apostolic deposit and that they continued to be developed throughout history. Some Christians disagreed with them, just as some who claimed to be Christians have disagreed with the Trinity through the centuries. That doesn’t make the thing itself less true.

The claims the Catholic Church makes about the papacy are different than the claims evangelicals make about the Trinity and the canon. 

Not in the developmental aspects with which I am concerned in these discussions.

Dave said that some evangelicals do make claims about Trinitarian doctrine and the canon always being held by the Christian church. Then those evangelicals should be corrected. 

If they do so, the correct understanding is that they were held in broad or kernel form, precisely as we claim about all our doctrines. If they claim that the understanding was explicit and fully-developed from the start, that simply can’t be sustained from the historical data or the Bible itself (as an encapsulation of the apostles’ teaching).

But how is Dave going to correct the false claims the First Vatican Council made about the papacy? 

Easily. I already have explained how this charge is ludicrous and non-factual, in my two replies to William Webster, referenced above, and in past installments of this “discussion” with Jason. No false or a-historical claims were made. We’re not the ones trying to whitewash or ignore history. We welcome it. It bolsters our case every time.

Dave says that Matthew 16 contains “the most explicit biblical evidences for the papacy, and far away the best“. By Dave’s admission, the best Biblical evidence for the papacy is a passage that mentions neither successors nor Roman bishops. 

It doesn’t have to, as explained above. Succession is taught elsewhere, and the primacy of Rome was due to the martyrdom of Peter and Paul there, and the fact that this was God’s Providence, since Rome was the center of the empire. It was now to be the primary See of the Christian Church. All the Catholic has to do from the Bible itself is show that a definite leadership of the Church was taught there. If it was, then all Christians are bound to that structure throughout time.

Not only does the passage not mention successors or Roman bishops, but everything said of Peter in the passage is said of other people elsewhere. 

This is simply untrue, and rather spectacularly so:

1) Jesus said to no one else that He would “build” His “Church” upon them.
2) Jesus re-named no one else Rock.
3) Jesus gave no one else the “keys of the kingdom of heaven.”

Jason can easily disprove any of the above by producing biblical proof (best wishes to him). It is true that Jesus gave the other apostles the power to bind and loose, but that poses no problem whatever for the Catholic position. Peter’s uniqueness in that regard was that Jesus said that to him as an individual, not as part of a collective. This is usually significant in the Hebraic, biblical outlook and worldview. Be that as it may, the three things above were unique to Peter.

IV. Patristic Understanding of the Papacy and Serious Biblical Exegesis
And Dave acknowledges, in response to Luke 22:24, that the disciples didn’t understand the papal interpretation of Matthew 16 as late as the Last Supper. 

They didn’t understand why He was about to die, either. They never believed that Jesus would or did rise from the dead until they saw the evidence with their own eyes (even though He had plainly told them what was to happen). So what? What does that prove? It has nothing to do with biblical exegesis today. The disciples weren’t even filled with the Spirit until the Day of Pentecost after Jesus died. So this is absolutely irrelevant.

The earliest interpreters of Matthew 16 (Tertullian, Origen, Cyprian, etc.) not only didn’t advocate the papal interpretation, but even contradicted it.

Again, so what? We don’t believe that individual fathers are infallible. The Catholic historical case for the papacy doesn’t rest on the interpretation of Matthew 16, but rather, on how Peter was regarded when he was alive, and how his successors in Rome were regarded (and the real authority they exercised in point of fact). Not everyone “got” it. But that is never the case, so it is no issue at all. No one “got” all the books of the New Testament, either, till St. Athanasius first listed all of them in the year 367. That doesn’t give Jason pause; why should differing interpretations of Matthew 16 do so? Norman Geisler says that no one taught imputed justification between the time of Paul and Luther. Virtually no Father can be found who will deny the Real Presence in the Eucharist, or that baptism regenerates.

Does anyone believe that Jason and Protestants in general lose any sleep over those demonstrable facts (one stated by a prominent Protestant apologist), or the inconvenient difficulty that sola Scriptura (one of the pillars of the so-called “Reformation” and the Protestant Rule of Faith and principle of authority) cannot in the least be proven from Scripture? They do not, but when it comes to anything distinctively Catholic, all of a sudden, double standards must appear from nowhere, and we are held to a different, inconsistent standard.

Origen wrote that all Christians are a rock as Peter is in Matthew 16, and he said that all Christians possess the keys of the kingdom of Heaven. 

Jesus did not say the latter. I rather prefer Jesus to Origen (assuming Jason is correct in his summary or Origen’s views). Are we to believe that Origen is the supreme exegete of all time; not to be contradicted? He has to make his arguments from some solid scriptural data, hermeneutics, and exegesis, just like everyone else. Catholicism doesn’t require such a silly scenario, and Protestantism certainly doesn’t. If Catholicism required this (absolute unanimous consent of all the Fathers on every single biblical interpretation), Jason might have a point in his favor. But since it does not, he only looks silly, presenting a non sequitur.

Cyprian said that all bishops are successors of Peter, and that Peter’s primacy consists not of authority, but of his being symbolic of Christian unity. 

He was wrong, too, when he said that. So what?

It logically follows, then, that what Dave Armstrong describes as “far away the best” Biblical evidence for the papacy: 

* doesn’t mention successors

That isn’t required, for my exegetical and ecclesiological argument and the Catholic one to succeed, as explained.

* doesn’t mention Roman bishops

That isn’t required, either.

* says nothing about Peter that isn’t also said of other people

That’s untrue, as shown, on at least three counts.

* was understood in a non-papal way by the people who first heard it (Luke 22:24)

That’s irrelevant, since they also didn’t yet understand the Resurrection and Jesus’ substitutionary atonement on the cross. By Jason’s “reasoning,” then, it would be an “argument” against those things also, that the disciples did not first understand them. Therefore, the objection collapses.

* was understood in a non-papal way by the earliest post-apostolic interpreters (Tertullian, Origen, Cyprian, etc.)

There is plenty of evidence of widespread patristic interpretation which would be more along the lines of arguments that Catholics give now. It is beyond our purview to revisit all that. It’s presented in books such as Steve Ray’s Upon This Rock (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1999, pp. 111-243), and Jesus, Peter, & the Keys (Santa Barbra, California: Queenship Pub. Co., 1996), by Scott Butler et al, which gives 66 pages of citations from the Fathers specifically on the question of “Rock” and “Keys of the Kingdom.” As I listed in an earlier paper, all the following Fathers thought that Peter was the Rock (as can be documented in the above books and elsewhere):

Tertullian
Hippolytus
Origen
Cyprian
Firmilian
Aphraates the Persian
Ephraim the Syrian
Hilary of Poitiers
Zeno of Africa
Gregory of Nazianzen
Gregory of Nyssa
Basil the Great
Didymus the Blind
Epiphanius
Ambrose
John Chrysostom
Jerome
Augustine
Cyril of Alexandria
Peter Chrysologus
Proclus of Constantinople
Secundinus (disciple and assistant of St. Patrick)
Theodoret
Council of Chalcedon
(all of the above are prior to 451 A.D.)

An interpretation of one passage that takes a long time to develop (even following Jason’s jaded presentation, which is not at all proven) is no more alarming than an interpretation of the Two Natures of Jesus, that required over 400 years (the year 451) to fully develop; and even after that, major Christological heresies such as monothelitism (the view that Jesus had only one will) flourished for another two centuries or so. This is merely a double standard. The Catholic Church doesn’t require what Jason thinks it requires in this regard. His argument here is a straw man. It may look impressive on the surface, but is shown to be groundless when properly scrutinized. Even the three Fathers he lists as contradicting our view agree with it elsewhere. It is not inconceivable that one could hold to a double meaning (as St. Augustine often did): viz., that “Rock” referred to Peter and his faith. None of this poses any difficulty at all for the Catholic.

Yet, the First Vatican Council calls the papacy a clear doctrine of scripture always held by the Christian church, one that people with perverse opinions deny. 

Indeed it is clear in Scripture.

If Matthew 16 doesn’t logically lead to a papacy, 

Jason has not shown that it does not. He has merely stated it.

and the earliest interpreters didn’t see a papacy in the passage, 

Dealt with above . . .

and this passage is by far the best Catholics can produce, what does that tell us? 

It tells us that Jason labors under many logical fallacies and unproven assumptions.

V. The Uniqueness of Jesus’ Commission to St. Peter as Leader of the Church
Ephesians 2:20 says that all of the apostles are foundation stones of the church.

It does say that, yes. So what? We don’t disagree with that.

Whether it’s said by Jesus or by the Holy Spirit, it’s a fact that Peter isn’t the only foundation stone of the church.

It doesn’t say Peter is the foundation in this passage. Jesus says so in Matthew 16. Certainly Jason is familiar with the concept of a cornerstone. Jesus is called the “cornerstone” in this same verse. Peter is the human cornerstone or earthly leader, as seen in Matthew 16:18. It is not difficult to grasp this.

Peter is spoken to in Matthew 16 because he was the one who answered Jesus’ question (Matthew 16:16).

The fact that he replied didn’t require Jesus to say the three unique things that He said to Peter. This is special pleading . . .

Likewise, Jesus singles out James and John in Mark 10:39 because they were the ones talking with Jesus at the time, not because what He was saying applied only to them.

This isn’t analogous because Jesus doesn’t give them a special name and say extraordinary things about them in particular. What is going on in Matthew 16 is definitely “Peter-specific.” Jason’s argument would be like saying that when God commissioned Moses for the task of being the liberator of the Hebrew slaves and the lawgiver (Exodus 3), that this was not a unique, God-given role of Moses, but a mere happenstance because Moses happened to be in the right place at the right time (Mt. Horeb, when God appeared in the burning bush), and that anyone else could have fit the bill. How absurd . . .

Jason’s argument would disprove the uniqueness of God’s call to Abraham as the patriarch of the Jews and exemplar of faith (Genesis 15,17). It means nothing that God changed his name from Abram to Abraham (Genesis 17:5), just as it meant nothing that God changed Jacob’s name to Israel (Gen 32:28). If we adopt Jason’s outlook, the commission of Peter might have just as well been made by Jesus throwing up a stone and seeing which disciple it landed on, and then building His Church upon that person.

Is it possible that Jesus would single out Peter because he was being made a Pope? Yes. Is it necessary? No.

Is it possible that Jason would single out distinctively Catholic doctrines and distort or ignore the biblical evidence for them, create straw men, and apply unreasonable double standards that he doesn’t apply to Protestant distinctives? Yes. Is it necessary? No. Can he do a much better job at responding to his opponents’ arguments? Yes. Has he even read them? It’s not at all clear . . .

Just as Peter isn’t the only foundation stone of the church, he’s also not the only one who has the keys that let him bind and loose. The other disciples had those keys as well (Matthew 18:18). The Catholic claim that the keys of Matthew 16:19 are separate from the power of binding and loosing is speculative and unlikely. When we read the passages of scripture that mention keys, we see a pattern in the structure of those passages. A key is mentioned, followed by a description of what the person can do with the key (Isaiah 22:22, Luke 11:52, Revelation 3:7, 9:1-2, 20:1-3).

Sometimes a key is mentioned without such a description of what the key does (Revelation 1:18). And sometimes the function of the key is described without the key being mentioned (Matthew 23:13, Revelation 20:7). What do we see in Matthew 16:19? We see the keys mentioned, followed by a description of what they’re used for. The keys are used to bind and loose. The keys of the kingdom of Heaven are used to bind and loose what’s bound and loosed in Heaven. It logically follows, then, that the binding and loosing is part of the imagery of the keys. Binding and loosing is what’s done with the keys.

The fallacy and unsupported conclusion here is to assume that binding and loosing is the sum of what it meant to hold the keys. This is simply not true.

Therefore, when Matthew 18:18 refers to all of the disciples binding and loosing, it logically follows that they all have the keys that let them do it.

It doesn’t at all. This would be like the following analogous scenario (also from the world of sports):

1) a manager says to a starting pitcher in a baseball game: “I am giving you the reponsibility to pitch. I’m also handing you a glove to field with.”

2) The manager says to all the other starting players: “I’m giving all of you a baseball glove to field with.”

3) Right after the manager “commissioned” the pitcher to pitch, he (clearly) defined his role as pitcher by showing that it consisted of fielding the ball with his glove when it came to him.

4) Conclusion: all the players in the starting line-up (in “Jason-logic”), must also be pitching that day. The pitcher was only a representative player, and what was said to him could have easily been said to any of them. They are all equally the “cornerstones” of the team. Fielding is what it means to pitch, because it was discussed right after the pitcher was told to pitch. Why does one have to believe this? Well, because the claim that the charge to pitch the game is separate from the function of “binding” a ball in one’s glove when it is hit to them and “loosing” it to the first, second, or third baseman, is speculative and unlikely (much like silly, illogical, unscriptural Catholic arguments for the papacy). When the coach refers to all of the starting players fielding, it logically follows that they are all pitchers, since that is what he also said to the pitcher individually, thus defining his pitcher’s role (which is really everyone’s on the team).

Similarly, we know that keys are being used in passages like Matthew 23:13 and Revelation 20:7, even though only the function of the keys is described.

This rests on the fallacies of logic described above, and so can be dismissed. I need not revisit my older arguments concerning the keys yet again. The interested reader can consult them in my earlier exchange with Jason.

In Revelation 20, for example, we know from verse 1 that Satan was imprisoned with a key. We can conclude, then, that the key was involved in his being released in verse 7, even though the key isn’t mentioned in that verse. To separate the key from its function, as though they represent two separate powers, is speculative and unlikely.

But I’m not doing that. What I’m saying is that possessing the keys includes binding and loosing, but also much more, so that when binding and loosing are mentioned, it doesn’t follow logically that all the functions of the keyholder are present, or that, in fact, any keyholders are present at all. By Jason’s “logic” the following absurdity would result:

1) The CEO of a company has the keys to the safe with the most important company documents and a considerable sum of money in it. He also has the power to hire and fire any janitor who works for the company.

2) The supervisory janitor of the same company also has the power to hire and fire any janitor (besides himself, as they are all under him in the pecking order) who works for the company.

3) Therefore the supervisory janitor is equal in power and status to the CEO.

It is straightforward exegesis. Scholarly commentary makes the officeholder of the keys unique. The chief steward or major-domo in the Old Testament was one man, not a committee of twelve.

Outside of Matthew 18, every use of a key involves one entity. The person who has the key also opens and shuts or binds and looses. It’s unlikely, then, that Matthew 18 is referring to one person having the keys and somebody else binding and loosing. The most reasonable interpretation of Matthew 18:18 is that all of the disciples possess the keys of the kingdom of Heaven. And we know from church history that the earliest interpreters of Matthew 16 viewed the keys as belonging to multiple people, not just Peter and Roman bishops. The Catholic claim that the keys are unique to Peter is therefore unreasonable and contrary to the earliest post-apostolic interpretations of the passage.

I shall quote just two Protestant commentators from my first reply to Jason on development, in support of my contention that Peter held the keys in a unique, “papal” sense:

Just as in Isaiah 22:22 the Lord puts the keys of the house of David on the shoulders of his servant Eliakim, so does Jesus hand over to Peter the keys of the house of the kingdom of heaven and by the same stroke establishes him as his superintendent. There is a connection between the house of the Church, the construction of which has just been mentioned and of which Peter is the foundation, and the celestial house of which he receives the keys. The connection between these two images is the notion of God’s people. (Oscar Cullmann, Peter: Disciple, Apostle, Martyr, Neuchatel: Delachaux & Niestle, 1952 French ed., 183-184)

And what about the “keys of the kingdom”? . . . About 700 B.C. an oracle from God announced that this authority in the royal palace in Jerusalem was to be conferred on a man called Eliakim . . . (Isa. 22:22). So in the new community which Jesus was about to build, Peter would be, so to speak, chief steward. (F .F. Bruce, The Hard Sayings of Jesus, Downers Grove, Illinois: Intervarsity Press, 1983, 143-144)

. . . Why was Peter called “rock” (Mark 3:16)? We don’t know, but it may have had something to do with his personality or behavior . . .

Obviously Jesus gave him the name to signify that he was the cornerstone of the Church, which was built upon him. That seems quite obvious. The cornerstone may not always be the sturdiest one of all the stones in a building (and Peter’s case and personality shows this), but it is still, nevertheless, the cornerstone and the one that the rest of the building is built upon.

. . . Even if we assume that Peter’s new name was given because of what occurred in Matthew 16, would that lead to the conclusion that Peter was a Pope? No. Peter could have chronological primacy or a primacy of importance, for example, without having a primacy of jurisdiction . . .

That’s why the exegesis of the keys of the kingdom is also supremely important to the Catholic argument. It gives precisely this primacy of jurisdiction that Jason says is absent from the biblical record. It is not.

From here, Dave’s arguments go from bad to worse. My list of 51 Biblical proofs for a Pauline papacy should have made Dave aware of some of the problems with his list of Biblical proofs. Instead, he kept using the same fallacious reasoning. Let me give some examples.

Keep in mind that I deliberately used erroneous reasoning similar to Dave’s. I said, just before listing my 51 proofs, that I was using fallacious logic similar to Dave’s. Yet, Dave repeatedly criticized my reasoning in the list of 51 proofs. Does he realize that he was therefore criticizing himself? Here are some examples of Dave criticizing me for using the same logic he used. Regarding what’s said of Paul in Acts 9:15, Dave wrote:

The RSV reads “a chosen instrument of mine,” not “THE chosen instrument . . . ” Nor is it even used as a title or name, like Rock (Petros) is. And it is not exclusive. Peter certainly did both as well.

Dave is being inconsistent. When Peter is singled out in Matthew 16, Dave sees papal implications, even though what’s said of Peter in that passage is said of other people in other passages.

That has been replied to. It is indeed unique to Peter, as many Protestant commentators have noted. Jason can’t build an effective argument upon factual falsehoods.

But when Paul is singled out in Acts 9, Dave sees no papal implications. If being singled out has papal implications for Peter, then why not for Paul? Is it possible to see papal implications in Matthew 16 and Acts 9? Yes, but it’s not likely or necessary in either case.

The whole point is that Paul was not singled out, whereas Peter was. Jason (as usual) denies the fact about Peter by ignoring all kinds of exegetical evidence, then he proceeds to ignore the counter-argument I gave concerning Paul. He simply assumes that Paul is “singled out,” ignoring my argument.

VI. Effective and Illegitimate Uses of the Reductio ad Absurdum Logical Argument / Replies to Charges of Inconsistency
I understood full well what Jason was trying to do. He was using a technique of reductio ad absurdum, in order to show that my reasoning concerning Peter was fallacious from the get-go. I noted the problem with his own flawed use of this (legitimate) approach last time:

Reductio ad absurdum arguments only succeed when they start with the actualpremises of the argument being criticized. Since Jason’s does not, it fails utterly. But it has a host of factual errors as well, as I will demonstrate.

Jason’s effort at turning the tables fails because he didn’t understand my reasoning and what I was claiming in the first place. In other words, even a reductio ad absurdum of another’s position fails if it is based on caricature and straw men. When, for example, our Lord Jesus engaged in something highly akin to a reductio in his renunciations of the Pharisees, He built it upon facts of their beliefs and behavior, not caricatures and distortions of same. His initial premise was true. But Jason’s is false. He neither understood my reasoning properly; nor did he understand how an effective reductio works. At the same time, he falsely accuses me of all the logical shortcomings that he exhibits in bundles.

The reductio ad absurdum only succeeds if the counter-arguments are based on fact as well; this gives them their “punch” and effectiveness as rhetoric and argumentation. So, for example, Jason’s attempt to utilize Acts 9:15 in his attempted reductio of my position, fails for the following reasons:

1) His argument is based on the premise that Peter is not singled out in Matthew 16 (but this is a falsehood, as I’ve demonstrated in several different ways).

2) On the contrary, Jason claims that the Apostle Paul (in his attempt to show that by my supposed fallacious reasoning, he could just as easily be shown to be a “pope”) is singled out in Acts 9:15 (but this is also a falsehood, as I think I have shown).

3) Therefore, the reductio fails because its premises (and even a reductio — like any other rational argument — must have premises) are false.

4) The only way to determine whether the premises are true or false in the first place (to take a step back for a moment) is to engage in serious exegesis of both passages. Yet Jason refuses to do this. He simply assumes what he is trying to prove. Thus, his argument is both circular and fallacious.

To expand my point, I would like to cite a textbook that I actually used in college, in a logic class: How to Argue: An Introduction to Logical Thinking (David J. Crossley & Peter A. Wilson, New York: Random House, 1979, 161-162):

This kind of argument is effective as a weapon against an opponent, for it provides a method of illustrating that an assumption, belief, or theory of an opponent is erroneous . . . the technique involves showing that the belief or theory in question leads to or entails an absurd conclusion or consequence. The absurdity is usually a contradiction or an obviously false statement . . .

The strategy of a reductio is to show that an absurd conclusion follows from a given statement. In brief, the schema of a reductio can be put in the following way, letting S and T stand for any propositions at all:

1. Assume statement S.
2. Deduce from S either:

a false statement
a contradiction (not-S)
a self-contradiction (T and not-T)

3. Conclude, therefore, that S must be false.

The authors then write about how to defend oneself against a reductio:

Since a reductio advanced against your own belief or position will begin with a statement of your belief as a premiss, you must either attack the logic of the argument presented or you must be ready to endorse the conclusion . . . Always keep in mind that if an argument is valid yet the conclusion false, one of the premisses must also be false. If in attacking a reductio, you can plausibly reject the conclusion, then you know that the opponent who advanced the argument began from a false claim (provided the argument has the proper logical links). Also, remember that if you are faced with a reductio, you may be able to turn it to your advantage . . . . (pp. 166-167)

I’ve already repeatedly noted the logical errors in Jason’s attempted reductio:

1) He falsely assumes that Peter is not unique in Matthew 16, when in fact he is — as shown by much exegetical commentary (much by Protestants). If indeed this exegesis can be demonstrated (and it is precisely this that Jason refuses to interact with), then the reductio fails due to an initial false premise (that it is attempting to show as leading to absurd conclusions).

2) He falsely assumes that Paul is unique in other passages in the sense in which he (often falsely) thinks think that Peter is unique. If the factuality of these claims for Paul in the attempted reductio can be questioned, then the reductiofails for lack of logic (again, demonstrably false premises).

3) He falsely assumes that the principles of development involved in the doctrine of the papacy are different in kind or essence from the principles of development involved in the doctrines of the Trinity and Christology (or the canon of Scripture).

4) He falsely assumes that I am claiming for numbers 4-50 of my original presentation of NT proofs for Petrine primacy the same strength of argument as I claimed for the first three (thus much of his reductio is irrelevant, since built upon straw men). He has been disabused of this notion more than once, but to no avail:

Does Dave really think it’s reasonable to expect me to explain to him why passages like John 20:6 and Acts 12:5 don’t logically lead to a papacy?

. . . Obviously, passages like the two above wouldn’t “logically lead to a papacy.” But they can quite plausibly be regarded as consistent with such a notion, as part of a demonstrable larger pattern, within which they do carry some force . . . The lesser evidences on the list are particularly premised on the first three items (which were much more in depth than the others, . . .

Undaunted, Jason comes back with the same old same old. It’s alright to misunderstand one time (and I admitted I could have made myself more clear), but when distortion continues unabated after having been corrected, something is seriously wrong:

When Dave counts how many times Peter’s name is mentioned in the New Testament or refers to Peter being given a name that means “rock”, such arguments don’t logically lead to the conclusion that Peter and the bishops of Rome have papal authority.

Thus Jason (as so often) fails to incorporate my reply into his counter-reply. Moreover, he caricatures my argument concerning “Rock” so that it appears that I am making a shallow claim that someone must be a pope simply because his name was changed. As I have shown time and again, it was not simply the name per se, but how it related to what Jesus said next: “on this rock I will build my church” (Matthew 16:18; RSV).

Jason seems to think that I would argue that I, too, would be the pope if Jesus had simply re-named me “Dave.” Of course that is ridiculous. But if Jesus followed that proclamation up with a statement, “On Dave I will build My church, and I will give Dave the keys to the kingdom of heaven,” then, of course, much more is going on. Jason can’t see this, but many of the best Protestant commentators can. And I trust that fair-minded readers who don’t simply oppose something because it “sounds Catholic” will see the same thing, too. I am trusting readers to not fall into the trap that Jason has fallen into; a failing described by eminent Protestant commentators France and Carson:

It is only Protestant overreaction to the Roman Catholic claim . . . that what is here said of Peter applies also to the later bishops of Rome, that has led some to claim that the ‘rock’ here is not Peter at all but the faith which he has just confessed. The word-play, and the whole structure of the passage, demands that this verse is every bit as much Jesus’ declaration about Peter as v.16 was Peter’s declaration about Jesus . . . It is to Peter, not to his confession, that the rock metaphor is applied . . . Peter is to be the foundation-stone of Jesus’ new community . . . which will last forever. (R.T. France [Anglican]; in Morris, Leon, Gen. ed., Tyndale New Testament Commentaries, Leicester, England: Inter-Varsity Press / Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans Pub. Co., 1985, vol. 1: Matthew, 254, 256)

On the basis of the distinction between ‘petros’ . . . and ‘petra’ . . . , many have attempted to avoid identifying Peter as the rock on which Jesus builds his church. Peter is a mere ‘stone,’ it is alleged; but Jesus himself is the ‘rock’ . . . Others adopt some other distinction . . . Yet if it were not for Protestant reactions against extremes of Roman Catholic interpretation, it is doubtful whether many would have taken ‘rock’ to be anything or anyone other than Peter . . . In this passage Jesus is the builder of the church and it would be a strange mixture of metaphors that also sees him within the same clauses as its foundation . . . (D.A. Carson [Baptist]; in Gaebelein, Frank E., Gen. ed., Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 1984, vol. 8: Matthew, Mark, Luke [Matthew: D.A. Carson], 368)

Dave said:

Paul himself said that “I am the least of all the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God” (1 Corinthians 15:9).

And Peter calls himself a “fellow elder” in 1 Peter 5:1. If Catholics can explain that passage as Peter being humble, not a reference to Peter having no more authority than other elders, then why can’t we interpret 1 Corinthians 15:9 as Paul being humble? Again, Dave is being inconsistent.

Not at all. Both men were (and should have been) humble. But what is said about Peter (overall) is not said of Paul. Pure and simple. And the great Protestant Bible scholars F.F. Bruce and James Dunn recognize this:

A Paulinist (and I myself must be so described) is under a constant temptation to underestimate Peter . . . An impressive tribute is paid to Peter by Dr. J.D.G. Dunn towards the end of his Unity and Diversity in the New Testament [London: SCM Press, 1977, 385; emphasis in original]. Contemplating the diversity within the New Testament canon, he thinks of the compilation of the canon as an exercise in bridge-building, and suggests that

it was Peter who became the focal point of unity in the great Church, since Peter was probably in fact and effect the bridge-man who did more than any other to hold together the diversity of first-century Christianity.

Paul and James, he thinks, were too much identified in the eyes of many Christians with this and that extreme of the spectrum to fill the role that Peter did. Consideration of Dr. Dunn’s thoughtful words has moved me to think more highly of Peter’s contribution to the early church, without at all diminishing my estimate of Paul’s contribution. (Peter, Stephen, James, and John, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1979, 42-43)

James Dunn, perhaps a successor to the late great F. F. Bruce in some respects, actually backs up my overall point quite nicely:

. . . Peter, as shown particularly by the Antioch episode in Gal. 2, had both a care to hold firm to his Jewish heritage which Paul lacked, and an openness to the demands of developing Christianity which James lacked. John . . . was too much of an individualist to provide such a rallying point. Others could link the developing new religion as or more firmly to its founding events and to Jesus himself. But none of them, including none of the rest of the twelve, seem to have played any role of continuing significance for the whole sweep of Christianity (though James the brother of John might have proved an exception had he been spared). So it is Peter who becomes the focal point of unity for the whole Church — Peter who was probably the most prominent among Jesus’ disciples, Peter who according to early traditions was the first witness of the risen Jesus, Peter who was the leading figure in the earliest days of the new sect in Jerusalem, but Peter who also was concerned for mission, and who as Christianity broadened its outreach and character broadened with it, at the cost to be sure of losing his leading role in Jerusalem, but with the result that he became the most hopeful symbol of unity for that growing Christianity which more and more came to think of itself as the Church Catholic. (Unity and Diversity in the New Testament, London: SCM Press, 1977, 385-386)

VII. Jason Engwer’s Systematic Ignoring of Protestant Scholarly Support for Catholic Petrine Arguments
To illustrate very concretely how Jason constantly ignores my arguments (even when I cite reputable Protestant scholars — indeed, some of the very best — , such as France, Carson, Dunn, and Bruce), here are the eleven Protestant scholars and standard reference works (plus the ancient Church historian Eusebius) which I cited in favor of my arguments in some fashion, in my last reply to Jason on this topic:

FF. Bruce
J. ames Dunn
Donald Guthrie
New Bible Dictionary
Eerdmans Bible Dictionary
Eusebius
Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church
J. B. Lightfoot
Norman Geisler
Jaroslav Pelikan
Martin Luther
R. C. Sproul

With modern computer technology, it is easy to do a word search of a document. So (just out of curiosity — though I pretty much knew the answer), I thought I would search Jason’s last reply to me (the paper I am now counter-responding to, and his reply to the paper above, with those scholars in it), “A Pauline Papacy”, to see if he ever mentions any of these scholars and works (after all, it’s quite difficult to respond to something if one doesn’t mention it at all). Sure enough, it was a clean sweep: not a single one appears in Jason’s paper.

Jason is clearly not interested in dialogue and interaction with his opponents. He cares not a whit about their arguments; he shows scarcely any consideration or respect for them at all; they are merely fodder for his ongoing effort to make Catholic positions (i.e., his caricatures of them) look farcical and ridiculous. This is exactly the opposite of my approach. I deeply, passionately believe in dialogue as a way to arrive at truth. I believe in interacting with opponents comprehensively and trying to, in fact, see if I can overthrow my own arguments by seeking the best critics of them. I am a Socratic; I think that this is an excellent way to sharpen one’s critical faculties and to arrive at truth and new understanding.

If there remains any doubt about how Jason conducts his apologetics endeavors with opponents, let’s do the same search in Jason’s paper, “Dave Armstrong and Development of Doctrine,” which was in turn a response to my paper, “Dialogue on the Nature of Development of Doctrine (Particularly With Regard to the Papacy)”. In the latter, I cited the following 41 non-Catholic scholars and works:

William Barclay
Protestant Expositor’s Bible Commentary
Wycliffe Bible Commentary
Martin Luther
R. C. Sproul
Henry Alford
John Broadus
C. F. Keil
Gerhard Kittel
Oscar Cullmann
William F. Albright
Robert McAfee Brown
R. T. France
D. A. Carson
New Bible Dictionary
Encyclopedia Britannica
D. W. O’Connor
C.S. Mann
Peake’s Bible Commentary on the Bible
K. Stendahl
Marvin Vincent
John Meyendorff (Orthodox)
St. Gregory Palamas (Orthodox)
Gennadios Scholarios (Orthodox)
William Hendrickson
Gerhard Maier
Craig L. Blomberg
Albert Barnes
Herman Ridderbos
David Hill
Robert Jamieson
Andrew R. Fausset
David Brown
T.W. Manson
Eerdmans Bible Dictionary
Eerdmans Bible Commentary
Adam Clarke
J. Jeremias
Theological Dictionary of the New Testament
F. F. Bruce
Vladimir Solovyev (Orthodox)

A search in Jason’s “reply,” entitled “Dave Armstrong and Development of Doctrine,” yielded a second clean sweep: again, none of the 41 sources were ever mentioned. Well, actually he did mention D.A. Carson once, but with regard to another work of his in support of some contention; Jason didn’t respond to my citation of Carson. It’s easy to understand, then, why Jason issued a disclaimer at the outset of his “response.” One must admire, at least (in a certain perverse sense), even marvel, at the chutzpah of a person who would deliberately ignore all that massive documented scholarship and then describe what he is willingly passing over in his “reply” as follows:

In replying to Dave Armstrong’s article addressed to me, I’m not going to respond to every subject he raised. He said a lot about John Newman, George Salmon, James White, etc. that’s either irrelevant to what I was arguing or is insignificant enough that I would prefer not to address it.

I need not waste more of my time searching additional Engwer papers. The point is now well-established. Let’s proceed, despite all these shortcomings:

VIII. The Relative Authority of St. Paul and St. Peter in the Early Church
Regarding Paul citing his authority over all the churches (1 Corinthians 4:17, 7:17, 2 Corinthians 11:28), Dave wrote:

That’s an authority all apostles had, but it was a temporary office, and so has nothing
to do with the question of the papacy as an ongoing office.

Yet, Dave cited Peter’s authority over bishops (1 Peter 5:2) as a Biblical proof of his papal authority.

There are many errors here. First of all, Jason ignores the fact that the apostles were a temporary office. There are no apostles today. Therefore, a temporary office, by definition, cannot have relevance in an ongoing basis (though bishops are the successors to the apostles). Secondly, laypeople in local churches are not bishops, nor are local churches bishops. Granted, Paul’s letters to the churches may in fact include bishops as leaders of those churches, but by and large he is writing to the particular local church-at-large (see, e.g., 1 Cor 7:17: “let every one lead the life which the Lord has assigned to him . . . “; “2 Cor 11:28: “. . . my anxiety for all the churches” — as opposed to bishops). Peter, by contrast, is expressly addressing the “elders” (Gk. presbuteros) in 1 Peter 5:1-2.

It is true that Paul speaks very similarly in Acts 20:28, yet when we see Paul and Peter together in the Council of Jerusalem (Acts 15:6-29), we observe that Peter has an authority that Paul doesn’t possess. We are told that “after there was much debate, Peter rose and said to them . . . ” (15:7). The Bible records his speech, which goes on for five verses. Then it reports that “all the assembly kept silence” (15:12). Paul and Barnabas speak next about “signs and wonders God had done through them among the Gentiles” (15:12). This does not sound like an authoritative pronouncement, as Peter’s statement was, but merely a confirmation of Peter’s exposition. Then when James speaks, he refers right back to Peter, passing over Paul, “Simeon has related . . . ” (15:14). He basically agrees with Peter. Paul and his associates are subsequently “sent off” by the Council, and they “delivered the letter” (15:30; cf. 16:4). Paul was under the authority of the Council, and Peter (along with James, as the bishop of Jerusalem) appears to have presided over it.

All of the apostles had authority over all bishops, yet Dave included 1 Peter 5:2 in his list of Biblical proofs for Peter’s unique authority.

But there was a hierarchical order among apostles and bishops, as seen in the Jerusalem Council. James was the bishop of Jerusalem. Thus he spoke authoritatively at the end. Peter acts in a fashion not inconsistent with his being the preeminent apostle, in terms of authority. We don’t see Paul leading the council or having the final say. Not everyone is equal. Paul is “sent off” by them. If anything, it looks like Peter and James had a measure of authority over Paul.

If Dave can include things that aren’t unique to Peter in his list, then why can’t I include things that aren’t unique to Paul in my list?

I have shown that Peter has a place of honor and jurisdiction, and dealt with his relation to Paul. What more could be expected?

Concerning how many times each apostle is mentioned in the Bible, . . . My numbers for the names are different than Dave’s. Paul comes out ahead in my count of the names. But I didn’t refer to names. I said that Paul is mentioned more often. That would include terms like “he” and “I”. That gives Paul an advantage, since he wrote so many epistles in which he mentions himself frequently. But Peter has the advantage of appearing in four gospels that cover much of the same material repeatedly. My point was that there are numerous ways you can do this sort of counting. And using such a count as evidence of papal authority is unreasonable. Dave should have learned that. Instead of learning from his mistake, he tells us again that Peter’s name being mentioned a few times more than Paul’s has papal implications. Should we count names in the Old Testament to see who was the Pope of Israel?

I was simply concerned with the matter at hand, which was how many times names were mentioned. Jason claimed Paul was mentioned more times. I disagreed. If Paul was, by his different criteria, that’s fine. It would still be true that Paul wasn’t commissioned by Jesus to lead His Church, as Peter was. As usual, my intention and claim for this argument is misunderstood by Jason. One must always keep in mind my later clarification and qualification of what I was trying to accomplish (this is now the third and last time I will cite my own words in this vein):

Obviously, passages like the two above wouldn’t “logically lead to a papacy.” But they can quite plausibly be regarded as consistent with such a notion, as part of a demonstrable larger pattern, within which they do carry some force.

Secondly, it should be noted that my original claim was Peter’s frequency of reference in relation to the other disciples, not all the apostles (i.e., the twelve, of which Paul was not one). This makes a big difference. The reasoning thus ran as follows:

1. Peter was the leader of the disciples.

2. This is shown by (among many other indications) the fact that he is mentioned far more than any of the other twelve disciples.

3. By analogy, then, if Peter was the leader of the disciples, then he was the model for the leader of the Church as pope, with other disciples being models of bishops.

If Jason wants to play his reductio game with Paul, he is welcome to do so, but he is responsible for presenting my original claim accurately. As it stands above, it is not at all unreasonable or silly, or anything of the sort. All it is maintaining is that Peter was indisputably the leader of the disciples. The next step to the papacy is one of analogy and plausibility. In any event, I agree with Jason that proofs such as this one, by themselves, do not inexorably lead to a papacy — not without the conjunction of the three major proofs which are far more weighty and substantive (if only he could figure out that I believe this).

Dave included a lot of people other than the apostles in his response to me:

Job…Walter Martin…Hank Hanegraaf…James White…St. Thomas Aquinas…St. Augustine…John the Baptist…Jeremiah

What would people like Walter Martin and Thomas Aquinas have to do with Biblical evidence? And why would Dave mention people from the Old Testament, such as Job and Jeremiah? I was comparing Paul to the other apostles, not to radio talk show hosts and Old Testament prophets.

The continual misrepresentations in Jason’s arguments are becoming severely annoying. Let’s look at the context for why I brought up these people (I know that may be a novel concept for some to grasp, but let’s give it a shot . . . ):

Job was mentioned in response to Jason’s claim that “Paul seems to have suffered for Christ more than any other apostle.” What’s wrong with that? Jason thought this was a proof for his rhetorical “Pauline papacy,” and I simply countered with Job, showing that it proves nothing. But Jason fails to comprehend a very basic logical argument:

1) Jason is comparing apostles with apostles.

2) So he argues that Paul’s sufferings (more than any other apostle) indicate that he is preeminent among them.

3) I counter with Job (in other words: if a non-apostle can undergo such incredible sufferings, this experience is not exclusive to apostles and doesn’t necessarily prove anything in and of itself). Lots of people suffer, and for many reasons, so this is not a particularly good indication of one’s calling or status. It’s a non sequitur.

Walter Martin, Hank Hanegraaf, and James White were mentioned as my own reductio ad absurdum in response to Jason’s reductio. But he didn’t get that:

Paul seems to have received more opposition from false teachers than any other apostle did, since he was the Pope (Romans 3:8, 2 Corinthians 10:10, Galatians 1:7, 6:17, Philippians 1:17).

That would make people like Walter Martin or Hank Hanegraaf or James White the pope as well.

It is indeed fundamentally a biblical discussion, yet if lapses in logic occur, it is not improper to bring in non-biblical analogies or relevant factors to point that out. I used the same exact technique in reply to two other of Jason’s points:

17. Only Paul’s teachings were so advanced, so deep, that another apostle acknowledged that some of his teachings were hard to understand (2 Peter 3:15-16). Peter’s understanding of doctrine doesn’t seem to be as advanced as Pope Paul’s. Paul has the primacy of doctrinal knowledge.

25. Paul had the best training and education of all the apostles (Philippians 3:4-6).

That would make St. Thomas Aquinas or St. Augustine popes, . . . Theological brilliance is not the same thing as ecclesiological authority and jurisdiction.

The next example is largely the same, methodologically or logically, and, furthermore, is one example of how Jason’s points often lack factuality (which is required for them to succeed in their purpose):

Only Paul is referred to as being set apart for his ministry from his mother’s womb (Galatians 1:15).

So were John the Baptist (Luke 1:13-17) and Jeremiah (Jeremiah 1:5), . . .

In other words, my reasoning would run as follows: “if even prophets were described in the same way, then why is this seen as some sort of proof or indication that Paul was the preeminent apostle? One doesn’t even have to be an apostle to be described in such a fashion. Therefore, it proves little in terms of comparison of one apostle to another.”

If Dave is going to bring up such people in response to my arguments about Paul, then why can’t I bring up these people in response to his arguments about Peter? Does Peter’s name appear 191 times in the Bible? Then why can’t I count how many times Moses’ name is mentioned in the Bible or how many times John Calvin is mentioned in a book on Calvinism?

It’s meaningless to do so because the original comparison had to do with Peter’s relation to the other disciples, in terms of how important they are, based on how frequently the Bible presents them. Thus, the same approach applied to Moses would be a comparison of his name to that of other patriarchs, to establish relative importance. Applied to Calvin, it would be ridiculous and meaningless to count the times his name appears in a Calvinist book, but if we were to look at a book about the relative importance of various “Reformers” in early Protestantism, then it would be relevant to see if Calvin were mentioned a lot more than lesser figures such as Oecolampadius, Bucer, Farel, or Bullinger. He certainly would be, and that is because he is clearly more important historically than they were. Likewise with Peter. It’s a rather obvious point.

If we’re discussing Biblical evidence of primacy among the apostles, then why bring up non-Biblical material and non-apostles? Does Dave want me to apply the same standards to his list of Biblical proofs?

I explained why I did, and I think reasonable readers can follow my logic. Jason then cites a lengthy anser of mine, but he fails to show the reader exactly what I was responding to. This makes a big difference:

Only Paul is referred to as passing his papal authority on to successors who would also have authority over the church of God (Acts 20:28).

What does this have to do with “papal authority,” since Paul was speaking to bishops (see 20:17)? How do a bunch of bishops represent “papal authority”? This is collegial, or (potentially) conciliar, or episcopal authority, but not papal. Nor is there any word about succession here. He is merely exhorting bishops, as Peter does in 1 Peter 5:1-4. The real (apostolic) succession in Scripture occurs when Judas is replaced by Matthias (Acts 1:15-26). There is also a strong early tradition of the succession of bishops at Rome, and some sort of papal primacy (though it is not a biblical one; i.e., it is not detailed in the New Testament, since most of it was written before the succession in Rome commenced). We see this in the letters of St. Clement of Rome, early on.

He then proceeds — in his usual fashion — to tear down the straw man of his own making:

IX. Was St. Clement the Sole Bishop of Rome and an Early Pope?
Dave refers to First Clement, a document written in the name of the Roman church, not the bishop of Rome.

This completely misses the point. There is no inconsistency in my position, but there is obtuse obfuscation of the point at hand in Jason’s analysis. Note that I was replying to Jason’s claim that Paul was passing on his (rhetorical) “papal authority” to “successors.” By omitting what I was responding to, a crucial point is absent (but that is key in his construction of the straw man). My response was very straightforward: how can a “pope” pass on his “authority” to a group of bishops? In other words, it was a fundamental confusion of category, which is why I wrote: “This is collegial, or (potentially) conciliar, or episcopal authority, but not papal.” The very analogy was wrongheaded from the get-go.

Passing over that point, Jason switched the topic over to the relatively tangential factor in my argument: the early patristic letter 1 Clement. The fact remains that Clement of Rome was the author of this letter. Michael W. Holmes, editor of the one-volume second edition of J. B. Lightfoot’s classic set, The Apostolic Fathers (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Book House, 1989, 24), notes:

While the letter, which was sent on behalf of the whole church . . . does not name its writer, well-attested ancient tradition identifies it as the work of Clement [footnote: Cf. Eusebius, Church History 4.23.11] . . . Tradition also identifies him as the third bishop of Rome after Peter . . .

Holmes goes on, showing his Protestant bias, stating that the leadership of the Roman Church at that time “seems to have been entrusted to a group of presbyters or bishops . . . ” But who is more likely to accurately report Roman ecclesiology in the early second century: Eusebius (c. 260-c.340), the important Church historian, whose book, The History of the Church is described by the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church as “the principal source for the history of Christianity from the Apostolic Age till his own day” (2nd edition, 1983, 481), or Holmes and Jason Engwer? Eusebius refers several times to Clement as the bishop of Rome:

Linus, who is mentioned in the Second Epistle to Timothy as being with Paul in Rome, as stated above was the first after Peter to be appointed Bishop of Rome. Clement again, who became the third Bishop of Rome . . . (3.4)

Linus, Bishop of Rome, after holding his office for twelve years yielded it to Anencletus . . . Anencletus, after twelve years as Bishop of Rome, was succeeded by Clement . . . (3.13,15)

Clement was still head of the Roman community, occupying in the same way the third place among the bishops who followed Paul and Peter. Linus was the first and Anencletus the second. (3.21)

In the bishopric at Rome, in the third year of Trajan’s reign, Clement departed this life, yielding his office to Evarestus. He had been in charge of the teaching of the divine message for nine years in all. (3.34; see also 5.6, where Eusebius cites St. Irenaeus’ list of Roman succession of sole bishops. He died c. 202, so he is an even earlier witness)

Recent (non-Catholic) reference books confirm this scenario:

Clement of Rome, St. (fl. c.96), Bishop of Rome. He was probably the third bishop after St. Peter. (Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, 2nd edition, ed. by F. L. Cross & E. A. Livingstone, Oxford Univ. Press, 1983, 299)

. . . pope from 88 to 97, or from 92 to 101 . . . Bishop Eusebius of Caesarea dates his pontificate from 92 to 101 . . . [in 1 Clement] Clement considers himself empowered to intervene (the first such action known) in another community’s affairs. (Encyclopedia Britannica, 1985 ed., Vol. 3, 371)

The first example of the exercise of a sort of papal authority is found towards the close of the first century in the letter of the Roman bishop Clement (d. 102) to the bereaved and distracted church of Corinth . . . it can hardly be denied that the document reveals the sense of a certain superiority over all ordinary congregations. The Roman church here, without being asked (as far as appears), gives advice, with superior administrative wisdom, to an important Church in the East, dispatches messengers to her, and exhorts her to order and unity in a tone of calm dignity and authority, as the organ of God and the Holy Spirit. This is all the more surprising if St. John, as is probable, was then still living in Ephesus, which was nearer to Corinth than Rome. (Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church, Vol. II: Ante-Nicene Christianity: A.D. 100-325, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, rep. 1976 from 1910 edition, 157-158)

Schaff states in a footnote on the same page that “it is quite evident from the Epistle itself that at that time the Roman congregation was still governed by a college of presbyters,” but his above testimony is quite remarkable and a witness in favor of the Catholic notion of Roman primacy, for all that. Baptist historian Kenneth Scott Latourette expresses a similar witness. He states “it may be that Clement himself, although the leader of the church in Rome, was only the chief of a group of presbyters in that city.” Yet he notes how the letters of Ignatius (d. c.107) suggest a widespread monarchical episcopacy:

It is clear that in several of the churches which he addressed there was a single bishop. Presumably, although not certainly, there was only one bishop in a city. (A History of Christianity: Vol. I: Beginnings to 1500, San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1953; rep. 1975, 116-117)

So there is some ambiguity and dispute in this matter, but the Catholic position can no more be accused of “reading back into history later developments” than can the Protestant position which would tend towards thinking that there was not a sole bishop. The Catholic position on the ecclesiology of the early Church is every bit as respectable and plausible as the Protestant one. Irenaeus and Eusebius are very clear, and I think they tilt the evidence decisively towards the Catholic interpretation.

If a letter from the Roman church, which was likely led by multiple bishops at the time, can represent papal authority, then why can’t Paul speak to multiple Ephesian bishops about papal authority? Dave is being inconsistent again.

Not at all. First, I showed how scholars agree that Clement wrote the letter, and that he was either sole bishop of Rome or “the leader of the church in Rome” as a foremost among equals (Latourette). Schaff discusses “the exercise of a sort of papal authority” in the letter. So I deny that it is the group of presbyters writing the letter. Clement wrote it. To assert that 1 Clement was some sort of corporate venture in order to dismiss my reference to the letter is as foolish as holding that St. Paul didn’t write a number of his NT letters, because they were described as being from his associates as well as from himself. Everyone thinks Paul wrote those letters. For example:

1) The 1st Letter to the Corinthians is from Paul and Sosthenes (1:1).
2) The 2nd Letter to the Corinthians is from Paul and Timothy (1:1).
3) The Letter to the Philippians is from Paul and Timothy (1:1).
4) The Letter to the Colossians is from Paul and Timothy (1:1).
5) The First Letter to the Thessalonians is from Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy (1:1).
6) The Second Letter to the Thessalonians is from Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy (1:1).
7) The Letter to Philemon is from Paul and Timothy (1:1).

It’s different when Paul is speaking to a group of elders because that is not “papal authority” being passed on, as in Jason’s original point. It is apostolic or episcopal authority, but not papal. If Jason wants to argue that “papal authority” exists primarily in a collegiate (rather than individual) sense, he is welcome to.

I’m unaware of any scholar who does so. One either accepts the papacy and the Catholic brand of ecclesiology, or episcopacy without a pope, as in Orthodoxy or Anglicanism, or some form of ecclesiology in which bishops are absent or far less important (Baptists, Presbyterians, non-denominational, etc.). No one mixes the categories as Jason does (even though it is in the context of his reductio ad absurdum; the reasoning is fallacious nonetheless). No one has ever claimed that Paul was the pope, but even the Encyclopedia Britannica states that Clement was.

X. St. Peter and St. Paul at the Jerusalem Council (Acts 15)
Does Acts 15:2-3 refer to Paul being sent by other people? Yes, and Acts 8:14 refers to Peter being sent by other people. According to Dave’s logic, “that is hardly consistent with [Peter] being the pope”.

This is actually a halfway decent argument for a change. I would only point out that Paul and Barnabas were referred to as being sent by “the church” (of Antioch: see 14:26). Then they were sent by the Jerusalem Council (15:25,30) which was guided by the Holy Spirit Himself (15:28), back to Antioch (15:30). Peter, on the other hand, is sent by other apostles (8:14). It’s a bit different to be sent from an authoritative Council (which included non-apostles) and a local church (which included non-apostles), as opposed to being sent by fellow apostles.

Dave arbitrarily suggests that things like the silence in Acts 15:12 and James mentioning Peter in Acts 15:14 are evidence that Peter presided as Pope.

It’s certainly far more plausible than Jason’s ridiculous claim in his reductio that “Pope Paul” confirmed Peter’s comments (which was what I was directly responding to).

But all that Acts 15:12 mentions is that the people remained silent as Paul and Barnabas spoke. If Dave wants to argue that the people became silent in verse 12, then should we conclude that they were talking while Peter was talking? Were they unconcerned with what Peter had to say?

According to Greek scholar A.T. Robertson’s commentary on this verse:

Kept silence (esigesen). Ingresive first aorist active of sigao, old verb, to hold one’s piece. All the multitude became silent after Peter’s speech and because of it. (Word Pictures in the New Testament, Nashville: Broadman Press, 1930, Vol. III, 228)

No one would argue that such things were proof positive that Peter was the pope, but they are certainly consistent with such a notion. The overall argument is one of cumulative plausibility.

What about James citing the earlier comments of Peter? James also cites scripture (Acts 15:16-18). Should we therefore conclude that scripture had the primary authority in Acts 15?

Scripture always has authority; that is not at issue. What is the topic at hand is an explanation of why James skips right over Paul’s comments and goes back to what Peter said. That doesn’t seem consistent with a notion of Paul being “above” or “equal” to Peter in authority. But it’s perfectly consistent with Peter having a preeminent authority. James shows how Peter’s words coincide with Scripture. He doesn’t mention what Paul said.

Or, since James uses the most authoritative language (“it is my judgment”), he has the last word, and his words are the ones incorporated into the letter that’s sent out, should we conclude that James was a Pope? (The Protestant historian Oscar Cullmann made a historical case for a primacy of James in his Peter: Disciple – Apostle – Martyr [Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Westminster, 1953], pp. 224-226.) The truth is that we have no evidence of anybody in Acts 15 acting as Pope. Just as my argument for Pauline primacy in Acts 15 is fallacious, so is Dave’s argument for Petrine primacy. Instead of getting the point, Dave missed it again. He continues to see Petrine papal implications where they don’t exist.

Eminent Protestant Bible scholars F.F. Bruce and James Dunn (neither has ever been accused of being an advocate of Catholicism, as far as I know — Bruce calls himself a “Paulinist”) give an account of Peter’s role in the Jerusalem Council not inconsistent with mine:

According to Luke, a powerful plea by Peter was specially influential in the achieving of this resolution . . . James the Just, who summed up the sense of the meeting, took his cue from Peter’s plea. (F. F. Bruce, Peter, Stephen, James, and John, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1979, 38)

Paul . . . made no attempt to throw his own weight around within the Jerusalem church (Acts 21; cf. 15.12f.). The compromise, however, is not so much between Peter and Paul . . . as between James and Paul, with Peter in effect the median figure to whom both are subtly conformed (James — see acts 15.13ff. . . . ). Is this not justifiably to be designated ‘early catholic’? (James D. G. Dunn, Unity and Diversity in the New Testament, London: SCM Press, 2nd edition, 1990, 112, 356)

XI. Concluding Remarks: Peter the First Pope
Concerning the miracles performed through Paul’s clothing (Acts 19:11-12), Dave wrote:

Peter’s shadow works miracles (Acts 5:15), which is far more impressive.

Dave should realize by now that neither Paul’s clothing working miracles nor Peter’s shadow working miracles belongs in a serious list of Biblical proofs for a papacy. The difference between Dave and me is that I don’t take such erroneous arguments seriously, whereas he does.

Again, Jason fails to understand how my argument worked. The whole point was to show that Peter was preeminent among the disciples and apostles. I tried to do that by listing various different aspects and events. The argument becomes strong in its cumulative effect, just as a rope with 50 strands is very strong. Peter’s extraordinary miracles were but one indication among many others that he was preeminent. They don’t prove anything in and of themselves (I agree with Jason there), but such miracles are not inconsistent with a primacy of Peter, which itself indicates his leadership and hence, the kernel and essence of the papacy. In the above context, Jason in his reductio noted that Paul also worked miracles. I replied by saying that Peter arguably worked more amazing miracles. I would never say that this fact alone somehow proves that Peter was pope.

But if the doctrine of the papacy and its accompanying scripture interpretations don’t arise until long after the apostles are dead,

Jason has not proven that, because (as we have clearly seen) he refuses to discuss the mountain of exegetical evidence I have brought forth suggesting that the essence of the papacy was there from the commission of Peter by Jesus in Matthew 16. He is assuming what he is purporting to prove once again.

why should we believe that the papacy is apostolic?

For the same reason that we believe that the Two Natures of Jesus is apostolic, even though it was only finally proclaimed in 451, or that the canon of the Bible is apostolic, even though no one mentioned all 27 books of the NT until 367, when St. Athanasius did that. All doctrines develop, so why should we make an exception for the papacy?

Even after the doctrine of the papacy arose in Rome, many bishops and councils continued to claim just as much authority as the bishop of Rome, sometimes even more authority. Using reasoning similar to Dave’s, somebody could argue that passages like Acts 15 and 1 Timothy 3:15 are an acorn that would later develop into the oak tree of the supremacy of councils, not Popes.

Indeed they do. It’s an involved discussion. Perhaps the Orthodox or Anglicans who argue in such a fashion will be willing to actually interact with the arguments I have given (unlike Jason).

Dave is mistaken when he claims that I can’t cite any support from the church fathers for a Pauline papacy with Ephesian successors. Not only can I cite support from the church fathers, but I’ve had material on this subject at my web site for years. My list of 51 proofs is just a development of what I had argued earlier. (See the closing section of http://members.aol.com/jasonte2/denials.htm, where I use the reasoning of Catholic apologists to argue for a Pauline papacy in some of the earliest church fathers.)

That’s not a straightforward historiographical / ecclesiological argument, claiming that Paul was the pope, not Peter, but rather, another reductio, since Jason is once again using the “reasoning of Catholic apologists” (that he disagrees with) to make an argument. I’ve yet to see any reputable historian claim that Paul was a pope.

. . . The Protestant historian Terence Smith comments: . . .

Since Jason ignores all the Protestant scholarly citations I produce (as objectively documented beyond all doubt, above), I will return the favor and ignore his citation (just so he can relate to what I go through with him).

. . . the concept of the papacy was never taught by Jesus and the apostles . . .

That’s exactly what the present topic is. My arguments have not been overcome by Jason. Quite the contrary; he has scarcely interacted with the heart and strongest aspects of my argument (the meaning of Rock and the keys, as shown by serious, in-depth exegesis). To paraphrase a famous saying of G. K. Chesterton about Christianity:

Dave’s best arguments for the papacy have not been interacted with and found wanting; rather, they have been found difficult for Jason’s viewpoint and ignored.

Let him continue to do so if he wishes. The good news (from my perspective) is that “dialogues” such as this one can be presented on my website for anyone to read and judge for themselves. I’m very confident that the biblical and historical Catholic case for the papacy is strong and persuasive, for fair-minded readers, or at the very least not as ridiculous and groundless as Jason makes it out to be. I write for open-minded people, to help them work through the issues by seeing both sides and considering the relative merits and strengths and weaknesses of each. If even one person finds this paper useful for that purpose, then all my labor and frustration in this endeavor will have been well worth it.

ADDENDUM
On 12 October 2003, I was informed by Jason that he had responded to this paper. Regrettably, he continues to misrepresent the Catholic position (which is identical to my own, as a Catholic apologist). Thus, I can’t justify devoting any more time to “dialogues” with Jason. Besides, I have already given him more space on my website to explain and defend his non-Catholic views than any other person (seven long dialogues, adding up to 1.34 MB of space: the approximate length of my two longest books). I’ve repeated my arguments endlessly. To give but one example of his irrational and non-factual argumentation, he wrote in the above response:

. . . when I cite Pope Pius IX saying that the Immaculate Conception is a doctrine always held and taught by the Christian church, and I cite the First Vatican Council saying that the universal jurisdiction of the bishop of Rome is a doctrine always held and understood by the Christian church, it’s insufficient for Dave to respond by arguing that Pope Pius IX and the First Vatican Council believed in development of doctrine. I don’t deny that they did. The problem, for Dave, is that the Pope and the council defined development differently than he does.

This is sheer nonsense. As mentioned in the paper above, those arguments were disposed of with abundant factual documentation, in the two refutations of Webster.

If we think of the Immaculate Conception as an oak tree, we can say that Dave Armstrong thinks there was an acorn in early church history. Pope Pius IX thought there was a grown oak tree . . . According to Pope Pius IX, the oak tree’s branches may have grown to some extent, and there might be a new leaf here or there, but there was a grown oak tree early on, not an acorn.

This sort of thing is proof that further “dialogue” between us is a futile endeavor. Once a dialogical opponent insists on misrepresenting his opponents’ position no matter how many times he is corrected, dialogue becomes impossible by definition.

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2017-09-01T14:36:38-04:00

PeterKeys2

Christ Handing the Keys to St. Peter (c. 1482) by Pietro Perugino (1448-1523) [public domain / Wikimedia Commons]

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(3-14-02)

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Jason Engwer’s satirical reply to my 50 New Testament Proofs for Petrine Primacy and the Papacy is entitled 51 Biblical Proofs of a Pauline Papacy and Ephesian Primacy. This is my counter-reply. His words will be in blue.
* * * * *

. . . Catholic apologist Dave Armstrong says that the evidence “is quite strong, and is inescapably compelling by virtue of its cumulative weight”. 

I think it is very strong, certainly stronger than the biblical cases for sola Scriptura and the canon of the New Testament (which are nonexistent). “Inescapingly compelling” is probably too grandiose a claim (few things are that evident), and I will change that language (but not all that much) in the original tract. Yet, again, that is the sort of language that Protestants habitually use with regard to the mythical, fictional “biblical evidence” for sola Scriptura, (where no amount of “non-evidence” or refutation of the proffered non sequitur or extremely indirect “proofs” are able to overcome the illusory “certainty” of “true believers”). We don’t even accept sola Scriptura in the first place.

I’ve already responded to some of Dave’s list of 50 proofs, though I don’t intend to respond to every one of them. 

That is a policy I will happily extend to Jason’s list as well.

Does Dave really think it’s reasonable to expect me to explain to him why passages like John 20:6 and Acts 12:5 don’t logically lead to a papacy? 

No, because they are part of a long list of indications of the primacy of Peter. As I said, it is a “cumulative” argument. One doesn’t expect that all individual pieces of such an argument are “airtight” or conclusive in and of themselves, in isolation, by the nature of the case. I certainly don’t do so. I was probably assuming at the time that the sort of thing that Jason brings up was self-evident, because that was my own opinion (therefore, I thought it quite unnecessary to state it). Obviously, passages like the two above wouldn’t “logically lead to a papacy.” But they can quite plausibly be regarded as consistent with such a notion, as part of a demonstrable larger pattern, within which they do carry some force. It’s true that I should have made my logical and epistemological viewpoint on this more clear in the original paper, but I am happy to have the opportunity to do so now. Another way to respond to this would be to make an analogy to a doctrine that Jason does accept: the Holy Trinity:

Does Jason really think it’s reasonable to expect me to explain to him why passages like 1 John 5:7 and Isaiah 9:6 and Zechariah 12:10 don’t logically lead to Chalcedonian trinitarianism and the Two Natures of Christ?

Obviously, the Jews are quite familiar with Isaiah 9:6 and Zechariah 12:10, but they don’t see any indication of trinitarianism at all in them, nor do the three passages above “logically lead” to trinitarianism, if they are not interconnected with many, many other biblical evidences. Yet they are used as proof texts by Christians. No one claims that they are compelling by themselves; these sorts of “proofs” are used in the same way that my lesser Petrine evidences are used, as consistent with lots of other biblical data suggesting that conclusion. And Jews who reject trinitarianism beforehand as a form of blasphemy, will not see the relevance, let alone compulsion, of any of these indications, as their presuppositions do not allow them to interpret within that framework. Likewise, with many Protestants and the papacy and its biblical evidences.

Dave’s list includes things like Peter being the first person to enter Jesus’ tomb (John 20:6) and Peter interpreting prophecy (2 Peter 1:16-21). As though other apostles didn’t interpret prophecy also? 

That conclusion is neither required nor implied by my list.

Anybody who sees papal implications in such things will, if he’s consistent, see papal implications in passages about Paul, John, and other Biblical figures as well. 

This doesn’t follow. The lesser evidences on the list are particularly premised on the first three items (which were much more in depth than the others, and dealt with at great length in my first book, A Biblical Defense of Catholicism, where this list also appears). I reproduce them in their entirety here:

1. Matthew 16:18: “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church; and the powers of death shall not prevail against it.”

The rock (Greek, petra) referred to here is St. Peter himself, not his faith or Jesus Christ. Christ appears here not as the foundation, but as the architect who “builds.” The Church is built, not on confessions, but on confessors – living men (see, e.g., 1 Pet 2:5). Today, the overwhelming consensus of the great majority of all biblical scholars and commentators is in favor of the traditional Catholic understanding. Here St. Peter is spoken of as the foundation-stone of the Church, making him head and superior of the family of God (i.e., the seed of the doctrine of the papacy). Moreover, Rock embodies a metaphor applied to him by Christ in a sense analogous to the suffering and despised Messiah (1 Pet 2:4-8; cf. Mt 21:42). Without a solid foundation a house falls. St. Peter is the foundation, but not founder of the Church, administrator, but not Lord of the Church. The Good Shepherd (John 10:11) gives us other shepherds as well (Eph 4:11).

2. Matthew 16:19 “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven . . .”

The “power of the keys” has to do with ecclesiastical discipline and administrative authority with regard to the requirements of the faith, as in Isaiah 22:22 (cf. Is 9:6; Job 12:14; Rev 3:7). From this power flows the use of censures, excommunication, absolution, baptismal discipline, the imposition of penances, and legislative powers. In the Old Testament a steward, or prime minister is a man who is “over a house” (Gen 41:40; 43:19; 44:4; 1 Ki 4:6; 16:9; 18:3; 2 Ki 10:5; 15:5; 18:18; Is 22:15,20-21).

3. Matthew 16:19 “. . . whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”

“Binding” and “loosing” were technical rabbinical terms, which meant to “forbid” and “permit” with reference to the interpretation of the law, and secondarily to “condemn” or “place under the ban” or “acquit.” Thus, St. Peter and the popes are given the authority to determine the rules for doctrine and life, by virtue of revelation and the Spirit’s leading (Jn 16:13), and to demand obedience from the Church. “Binding and loosing” represent the legislative and judicial powers of the papacy and the bishops (Mt 18:17-18; Jn 20:23). St. Peter, however, is the only apostle who receives these powers by name and in the singular, making him preeminent.

Now, these constitute the most explicit biblical evidences for the papacy, and far away the best. I think they are very strong (especially the first two). Jesus didn’t say He would build His Church upon anyone else but the Rock of Peter. No one ever claimed that he said this to St. Paul (least of all St. Paul himself). There is no Tradition in the early Church at all of Paul being a pope. But there is a Tradition of Petrine primacy, or (at the very least) Peter being the foremost among equals, which was so strong and enduring that even the Orthodox accept it, while rejecting the stronger (more developed) doctrine of papal supremacy and universal jurisdiction.

Even some Protestants are inclined to accept it (e.g., anglo-Catholics). Jesus gave only to Peter the “keys of the kingdom,” and I have traced what that term meant, in its Old Testament background. It is highly significant in its ramifications for Peter holding the highest office in the Church. Likewise, only Peter was given the power to bind and loose in a preeminent sense, by name, rather than merely one of a large group. This corresponds exactly to Catholic ecclesiology, where the pope is preeminent, but others can also bind and loose (bishops, priests).

So the list as a whole builds upon these relatively far, far more important and thought-provoking starting-points (or foundation-blocks, if you will). It was also written with Protestants in mind, as is my usual custom, since my specialty is biblical evidences for Catholicism, which has an obvious connection to apologetics directed towards Protestants in particular. And one strong Protestant presupposition is that Paul was much more important than Peter. Indeed, that is how it appears on the face of it in the New Testament (with so many books written by Paul and all). As with many Catholic beliefs, one must take a deeper look at Scripture to see how the pieces of Catholicism fit together in a harmonious whole.

Knowing this, I approached the Petrine list with the thought in mind: “Paul is obviously an important figure, but how much biblical material can one find with regard to Peter, which would be consistent with (not absolute proof of) a view that he was the head of the Church and the first pope?” Or, to put it another way (from the perspective of preexisting Catholic belief): “if Peter were indeed the leader of the Church, we would expect to find much material about his leadership role in the New Testament, at least in kernel form, if not explicitly.”

F. F. Bruce, the well-respected Protestant biblical scholar, made a point somewhat related to this general preliminary perspective of “how important is Peter in the Bible?”:

A Paulinist (and I myself must be so described) is under a constant temptation to underestimate Peter . . .

An impressive tribute is paid to Peter by Dr. J. D. G. Dunn towards the end of his Unity and Diversity in the New Testament [London: SCM Press, 1977, 385; emphasis in original]. Contemplating the diversity within the New Testament canon, he thinks of the compilation of the canon as an exercise in bridge-building, and suggests that

it was Peter who became the focal point of unity in the great Church, since Peter was probably in fact and effect the bridge-man who did more than any other to hold together the diversity of first-century Christianity.

Paul and James, he thinks, were too much identified in the eyes of many Christians with this and that extreme of the spectrum to fill the role that Peter did. Consideration of Dr. Dunn’s thoughtful words has moved me to think more highly of Peter’s contribution to the early church, without at all diminishing my estimate of Paul’s contribution. (Peter, Stephen, James, and John, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1979, 42-43)

James Dunn, himself no mean Bible scholar, and perhaps a successor to the late great F. F. Bruce in some respects, actually backs up my overall point quite nicely, and even (curiously enough) mentions (in passing) the same type of argument I utilized:

. . . Peter, as shown particularly by the Antioch episode in Gal. 2, had both a care to hold firm to his Jewish heritage which Paul lacked, and an openness to the demands of developing Christianity which James lacked. John . . . was too much of an individualist to provide such a rallying point. Others could link the developing new religion as or more firmly to its founding events and to Jesus himself. But none of them, inclusing none of the rest of the twelve, seem to have played any role of continuing significance for the whole sweep of Christianity (though James the brother of John might have proved an exception had he been spared). So it is Peter who becomes the focal point of unity for the whole Church — Peter who was probably the most prominent among Jesus’ disciples, Peter who according to early traditions was the first witness of the risen Jesus, Peter who was the leading figure in the earliest days of the new sect in Jerusalem, but Peter who also was concerned for mission, and who as Christianity broadened its outreach and character broadened with it, at the cost to be sure of losing his leading role in Jerusalem, but with the result that he became the most hopeful symbol of unity for that growing Christianity which more and more came to think of itself as the Church Catholic.  (Unity and Diversity in the New Testament, London: SCM Press, 1977, 385-386)

It is odd (and, admittedly, a little amusing) that the subject matter of one of the two passages that Jason picked to mock as entirely insignificant with regard to Petrine primacy: John 20:6, having to do with Peter being “the first witness of the risen Jesus,” as Dunn states, is mentioned by Dunn in the context of pointing out Peter’s leadership role in the early Church. If a respected Protestant biblical scholar like James Dunn thinks this fact has some relevance — however slight it might be — (and mentions it in almost exactly the same sense in which I have used it), and even F.F. Bruce was persuaded by him to think more highly of St. Peter, then I think Jason Engwer might perhaps consider giving this a second thought and not dismissing it so cavalierly as an obvious example of what he thinks is silly, insubstantial, immediately disposable Catholic exegesis and apologetics.

That’s not to say that Dunn accepts the papacy, as understood by Catholics; of course not. On page 117 of the same book he states that “In Matthew Peter is picked out not so much as a hierarchical figure but more as the representative disciple.” That is a view more akin to Orthodoxy (if the ecclesiology is even that “high”). My point here is strictly with regard to Peter’s relative importance in the early Church, particularly compared to the Apostle Paul.

As for the nature of a “cumulative argument,” what Jason doesn’t seem to understand is that all the various evidences become strong only as they are considered together (like many weak strands of twine which become a strong rope when they are woven together). I made note of this at the beginning of the original paper, by writing: “The biblical Petrine data is quite strong . . . by virtue of its cumulative weight.”

Apart from the first three evidences of the 50 being far more important (as indicated by the space given to them), many of the others are not particularly strong by themselves, but they demonstrate, I think, that there is much in the New Testament which is consistent with Petrine primacy, which is the developmental kernel of papal primacy.

The reader ought to note, also, that in the original paper I wasn’t claiming that these biblical indications proved “papal supremacy” or “papal infallibility” (i.e., the fully-developed papacy of recent times). This is important in understanding exactly how I viewed the evidence. And it was made pretty clear in my opening statement, I think (emphases added):

The Catholic doctrine of the papacy is biblically-based, and is derived from the evident primacy of St. Peter among the apostles. Like all Christian doctrines, it has undergone development through the centuries, but it hasn’t departed from the essential components already existing in the leadership and prerogatives of St. Peter.

I did not assert — didn’t get anywhere near claiming — that the papacy as understood after 1870 was present in full bloom in the pages of the New Testament. Quite the contrary; I stated that the doctrine was “derived from” Petrine primacy — as opposed to “proven in all its fully-developed aspects by the biblical presentation of Peter,” or some such thing –, and that it developed from the essential elements shown with regard to St. Peter in Scripture (just as, e.g., Chalcedonian trinitarianism developed from far simpler biblical and early patristic teachings on the Trinity).

All of this being the case, it is foolish and intellectually puerile for Jason to selectively present the arguments from the 50 which are the weakest and the most unpersuasive when considered individually (and then present an entire wrongheaded satire of these by creating a mock parallel-paper concerning Paul, which was loads of fun, I’m sure, but a non sequitur from beginning to end). This is “out-of-context citation” committed with the utmost irresponsibility.

But it makes for great rhetoric and succeeds in its purpose of making my paper (i.e., sound-bytes of it purporting to represent its entire thrust) appear ridiculous and utterly simplistic, in the eyes of unsuspecting readers who might not immediately perceive Jason’s unworthy tactics.

It is all the more objectionable in light of the fact that Jason has consistently refused to adequately deal (strangely and ironically enough — he being the “Bible Protestant” in this dialogue) with the extensive exegesis I presented in our first exchange regarding Peter as the Rock and possessor of the keys of the kingdom, and the patristic interpretation of Matthew 16.

I was consistently frustrated in the second paper by Jason’s selectivity in what he was willing to respond to, and made no bones about it. For example:

My job as an apologist would be a piece of cake if I concluded that all other arguments were without any merit; not even worth spending any time at all on. I could sit on my hands all day and revel in the superiority and unbreakable strength of my own position. That’s very easy. If, however, Jason wishes to truly be acknowledged as an able apologist and respectable critic of the Catholic viewpoint, he will have to, at some time in the future, decide to engage opponents’ arguments in the depth which is required to qualify as a true, comprehensive rebuttal, as opposed to merely spewing out rhetoric, far too many topic-switching non sequiturs, and subtle mockery. He is even claimed to be an expert on the papacy on the prominent contra-Catholic website where he is now an associate researcher [Dr. Eric Svendsen’s website]. But if he refuses to adequately interact with my material (e.g., tons of citations in my last exchange with him, from Protestant scholars on Peter, which he has pretty much ignored in terms of direct interaction), I certainly won’t spend any more of my time in the future interacting with his writing, because I am interested in dialogue, not mutual monologue.

Rather than dealing with the truly substantive, exegetical issues, Jason instead preferred to make (to take one representative example) psycho-babble-type “arguments” such as the following:

So much of what occurs with Peter is related to his personality. He didn’t open his mouth more often than other people, try to walk on water, cut off Malchus’ ear, etc. because he was a Pope. When he did these things, the disciples apparently had no concept of Peter being their ruler (Luke 22:24). Could Peter’s aggressive, risky behavior have something to do with him having an aggressive, risky personality rather than having to do with him being the Pontifex Maximus and the Vicar of Christ on earth? Could Jesus’ special care for Peter have something to do with him needing it rather than Jesus viewing him as a Pope?

Jason even granted much of what I was trying to prove, in the following comment (my reply in the last dialogue is also included):

Peter was obviously the foremost of the 12 disciples, but he fades into the background once Paul comes on the scene. And Peter is the foremost of the 12 disciples even during Jesus’ earthly ministry, when he wasn’t perceived as any sort of Pope (Luke 22:24).

It was a growing understanding, just as the Bible was. The Bible and sola Scriptura are even more central in Protestantism than the papacy is in Catholicism, yet the New Testament wasn’t known in its final form for 300 years, and hence, sola Scriptura couldn’t have been exercised fully in all that time, either (and not by illiterate folks for another 1100 years until the printing press made widespread literature available, and widespread literacy was finally achieved). If that doesn’t sink Jason’s position, then a slowly-growing understanding of the papacy doesn’t sink ours.

These clarifications should suffice for now as an explanation of precisely how I would view the nature, strength, and applicability of my own presented evidences for Petrine primacy and the papacy, in my earlier paper. Perhaps further related questions will be touched upon as I respond to the comments by Jason below.

But Dave isn’t consistent on this issue. When he responded to my examples of John being singled out in some way in scripture, he dismissed all of them as not necessarily referring to John being a Pope. 

Here is that exchange:

. . . there also are a lot of unique things said or done by or about other apostles. Why is it that when I ask a Catholic apologist whether John being referred to as “the beloved disciple” is evidence of a papal primacy of John, he responds as though the thought never occurred to him?

Probably because this was John’s description of himself. It was a form of humility, in referring to himself, in his Gospel (John 19:26, 20:2, 21:7,20). No one else in the Bible referred to him in that fashion, to my knowledge, but I might be wrong about that.

Why is it that a Catholic apologist can see the unique reference to John in John 21:22, the fact that only John called himself “the elder”, the fact that John lived the longest among the apostles, etc., yet never see any papal implications in any of those things?

Well, if Jason works up a list of 50 Biblical Proofs Suggesting that John, Not Peter, Was Pope, I will reply to it, point-by-point, even though Jason won’t grant me that courtesy.

My half-facetious insinuation here, of course, was that Jason would not be able to work up such a list concerning John (and — subtly — that it is the very accumulation of evidences that makes the Petrine argument strong in the first place). He tries to do so with Paul, but since it is based on a fallacious understanding of the nature of my argument (and is not meant to be serious in its own right), it, too, fails miserably. I may have missed it, but I don’t recall seeing in Jason’s Pauline list any indication that our Lord Jesus said that He would build His Church on Paul rather than Peter, or that Paul would be given the keys of the kingdom, rather than Peter. Perhaps — just maybe — that is why the Church Fathers also never took such a view?

I agree with Dave that John wasn’t a Pope. But if he’s not going to see papal implications in John being called “the beloved disciple” (John 21:20) and “the elder” (2 John 1), for example, then why see papal implications in Peter’s shadow working miracles (Acts 5:15) and the church praying for Peter (Acts 12:5)? 

As already explained, in a cumulative argument, individual strands are often not compelling at all. Rather, our argument is that these lesser indications are consistent with Petrine primacy, just as an apple falling on Jason’s head as he sits under a tree and ponders more ways to make my arguments (i.e., his straw-man versions of my actual arguments) look ridiculous, doesn’t prove the theory of gravitation, though it is entirely consistent with that theory and reputedly (in the popular legend, anyway) even helped cause Sir Isaac Newton to formulate it.

I would also note that the title of my paper was: 50 New Testament Proofs for Petrine Primacy and the Papacy. Titles mean things. They are there to aid the reader in understanding the author’s intent. So here, the title reveals that my argument was intended to prove Petrine primacy as well as the papacy (which is a development of the Petrine primacy, as I stated at the beginning). That being the case (in addition to the nature of cumulative arguments), we wouldn’t expect all (or even a majority of) the evidences to “prove” or suggest the full-blown papacy itself, as developed from Peter’s leadership. This, too, was quite obvious from my introduction:

The Catholic doctrine of the papacy is biblically-based, and is derived from the evident primacy of St. Peter among the apostles . . .The biblical Petrine data is quite strong . . .

So I proceeded to go ahead and catalogue the “biblical Petrine data.” That is not (technically) the equivalent of the biblical “papal” data, because the latter is a development of the former. But Jason has a lot of fun confusing later developments and their initial kernels. He has made full use of that unfortunate ongoing rhetorical tendency of his in the present paper, yet it is illogical, and betrays a misunderstanding of how Catholics view development of doctrine in the first place.

It is yet another example of the contra-Catholic simply assuming his own definition of something (development) and then acting as if the Catholic accepts (or should accept, if they weren’t so obtuse and dense!) the same definition. All sorts of fallacious and illogical arguments are constructed on top of this false premise, and never more than in the complex debates about development.

Dave sees papal implications in such irrelevant details of Peter’s life, yet he sees no papal implications in the more relevant details of the other apostles’ lives. 

None of the things on the list are “irrelevant,” as Scripture itself is not “irrelevant,” and does not record tidbits of information for no reason. It is inspired; God-breathed, after all. God doesn’t give us useless information. These factors are relevant as indications consistent with the leadership role of Peter. There were many other leaders in the early Church as well, but only one preeminent leader. It is like talking about the Speaker of the House or the Senate majority leader. They’re leaders, too, but the President holds a higher office than they do.

When Acts 12:5 refers to “the church” praying for Peter, Dave sees papal implications in that passage. 

Let’s be fair and at least look at this as I presented it:

31. The whole Church (strongly implied) offers “earnest prayer” for Peter when he is imprisoned (Acts 12:5).

This is perfectly consistent with an exalted position of Peter, and it is precisely what we would expect if indeed he were “pope,” just as in the following hypothetical analogy:

The whole Church offered “earnest prayer” for Pope John Paul II when he was imprisoned (Acts 12:5).

But when Acts 20:28 refers to the Ephesian bishops being entrusted with “the church of God”, Dave sees no papal implications in that passage. 

Why would I? It is about bishops. No one believes in dozens or hundreds of popes. But this language is not inconsistent with the notion that there is also a leader, above bishops: a “super-bishop,” if you will.

Even though Peter explains in his first epistle that he’s writing to a limited group of people, not all Christians worldwide (1 Peter 1:1), and Peter even uses the phrase “among you” (1 Peter 5:1), Dave apparently interprets 1 Peter 5:1 as an example of Peter commanding all bishops across the world. 

The passage reads (RSV):

Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ, To the exiles of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia.

That’s a bit more general than single geographical churches or individuals, as in Paul’s letters (which is the point). Here is how I worded my related “proof”:

47. Peter acts, by strong implication, as the chief bishop/shepherd of the Church (1 Pet 5:1), since he exhorts all the other bishops, or “elders.”

In order to act in this fashion, Peter doesn’t always have to address “all Christians worldwide.” I didn’t say that he was doing that (but Jason’s usual excessive rhetoric sounds impressive). The pope can act as the chief bishop and shepherd no matter whom he is addressing, as, e.g., Pope Pius XI did in his 1937 encyclical Mit brennender Sorge, which was addressed to the bishops of Germany, and dealt with the errors of Hitler’s Third Reich, and was (notably) written in German rather than the usual Latin.

Protestant biblical scholar Donald Guthrie, in his New Testament Introduction (Downers Grove, Illinois: Inter-Varsity Press, 3rd revision; one-volume ed., 1970, 791-792) echoes — to some extent — this sort of thought:

It is clearly designed for a specific group of Christians although scattered over a wide area . . . Although this Epistle possesses the character of a circular letter, it differs from the other general Epistles of the New Testament in specifying the area in which the readers are confined . . . Are the districts which are mentioned to be taken politically or geographically? If the former, the area would be considerably greater than the latter . . .

The New Bible Dictionary (ed. J. D. Douglas, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1962 ed., 973), states that “the address is the widest in the New Testament.” Likewise, The Eerdmans Bible Dictionary (ed. Allen C. Myers, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1987, 820): “The letter is apparently intended to be a circular document with wide distribution.”

Note something else that Guthrie mentions with regard to the First Epistle of Peter:

. . . the majority of scholars favour Rome as the place of writing, taking ‘Babylon’ as symbolic, in the same sense as in the Apocalypse. The Roman martyrdom of Peter is fairly well attested . . . But the problem arises why Peter resorted to symbolic expression . . . It is probable that the cryptogram was used as a security measure. At the time of writing, Rome was the centre of vicious action against Christianity and avoidance of any mention of the Roman church would be a wise move if the letter fell into official hands. The writer evidently assumed that the readers would have understood the symbolism. [Footnote no. 2 on p. 803] It should be noted here that the metaphorical use of ‘Babylon’ is found in contemporary Jewish pseudegraphical literature and in the Church Fathers. (Ibid., 802-803)

The Eerdmans Bible Commentary (ed. D. Guthrie, J. A. Motyer, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 3rd ed., 1970, 1237) concurs:

. . . it would seem likely to have been written before the outburst of persecution at Rome in AD 64 . . . The argument for a Roman origin is based on the fact that in Rev. 16:19, 17:5, etc. Babylon is a cryptic reference to Rome . . . In view of the fact that most of our evidence links both Peter and the letter with Rome, this seems the most reasonable conclusion.

My copy of the Revised Standard Version of the Bible (Oxford University Press, 1977) also has this footnote for 1 Peter 5:13: “Babylon, a cryptic name for Rome (see Rev. 17.1.n.).” Going over to that note, it reads: “The fall of Babylon, which is Rome, the city on seven hills (17.9,18) and the arch-persecutor of the saints (17.6).” Anti-Catholic polemicists like Dave Hunt are certainly well-familiar with the equation of Babylon and Rome. :-) But this is serious biblical scholarship being cited in the proper sense, not Hunt’s typical irrational and slanderous balderdash.

F. F. Bruce agrees:

As for Peter’s association with the Roman Church, this was not only a claim made from early days at Rome; it was conceded by churchmen from all over the Christian world. In the New Testament it is reflected in the greetings sent to the readers of 1 Peter from the church (literally, from “her”) “that is in Babylon, elect together with you” (1 Pet. 5:13) — if, as is most probable, Babylon is a code-word for Rome . . . [Note 61] Various considerations rule out Babylon on the Euphrates. (Peter, Stephen, James, and John, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1979, 44)

[See also Eusebius, Church History, 2,15, Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church (Oxford University Press, ed. F. L. Cross and E. A. Livingstone, 1989, 1068-1069), and The New Bible Dictionary (ed. J. D. Douglas, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1962 ed., 974) ]

I noted the symbolic use of Babylon in the last of my proofs:

50. Peter wrote his first epistle from Rome, according to most scholars, as its bishop, and as the universal bishop (or, pope) of the early Church. “Babylon” (1 Pet 5:13) is regarded as code for Rome.

I should clarify here that I didn’t intend to argue that “most scholars” thought the letter was written by a universal bishop or papal figure; only that they thought it was written from Rome.

I don’t deny that Peter and every other apostle had authority over all bishops. But how can Dave ignore the context of who 1 Peter was written to, then read papal implications into the text? 

I have now explained my reasoning on this.

Nothing in 1 Peter 5:1 suggests a papacy. 

It was written from Rome in general homiletic, or (as Guthrie put it) “hortatory” fashion (though not to all Christian inhabitants of the known world, which is not required for my point to stand) as (according to Guthrie and The Eerdmans Bible Dictionary) a “circular letter” (much like a papal encyclical is today). In fact, if we look up encyclical in the dictionary, we find that it comes from the Latin encyclicus and the Greek enkyklios, meaning, literally, “in a circle, general, common, for general circulation.” The word encyclopedia is derived from the same root. Renowned Protestant Bible scholar J. B. Lightfoot comments on this passage as follows:

St. Peter, giving directions to the elders, claims a place among them. The title ‘fellow-presbyter,’ which he applies to himself, would doubtless recall to the memory of his readers the occasions when he himself had presided with the elders and guided their deliberations. (St. Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians, Lynn, Massachusett: Hendrickson Pub., 1982, 198; emphasis added)

As for the Second Epistle of Peter, Donald Guthrie, in his New Testament Introduction, surveys the well-known arguments over authorship, giving lengthy space to the arguments of both the proponents and opponents of Petrine authorship, finally concluding for himself:

. . . the choice seems to lie between two fairly well defined alternatives. Either the Epistle is genuinely Petrine . . . Or it is pseudepigraphic . . . Both obviously present some difficulties, but of the two the former is easier to explain. (Ibid., 847)

Protestant scholar and apologist Norman Geisler takes a more assured view:

It is clear, however, that ample evidence is now available to attest that this epistle is rightly attributed to the Apostle Peter.
(A General Introduction to the Bible, co-author William E. Nix, Chicago: Moody Press, 1968, 197)

Guthrie discusses the intended audience:

The Epistle is vaguely addressed ‘to those who have obtained a faith of equal standing with ours in the righteousness of our God and Saviour Jesus Christ’ (RSV). This very general destination contrasts strikingly with the specific provinces mentioned in 1 Peter. But does this mean that the author has no particular community in view, but is addressing a kind of circular to Christians everywhere? At first sight, his opening words would certainly give that impression, but this must be tested by the contents of the subsequent subject-matter and by the various historical allusions . . . In the absence of sufficient data there is no option but to leave the location of the readers as an open question. (Ibid., 848-849)

If Dave is going to see a papacy in that passage [1 Peter 5:1], he ought to see papal implications even more so in a passage like 2 Corinthians 11:28. But he doesn’t. 

Anyone might have “anxiety for all the churches.” That’s called prayer (intercession), charity, concern, fellowship, Christian unity. You don’t have to be a pope (or even an apostle) to do that. The relevant factors here (for the purpose of our discussion) are the intended recipients of 1 Peter (and 2 Peter, if it is Petrine). I have done my homework and presented what Bible scholars (Protestants all) think about that.

Dave’s list of Biblical proofs for the papacy is arbitrary, speculative, inconsistent, and unconvincing. 

Since Jason has clearly not understood the nature of the argument or what I am claiming for it, his criticisms fall far short of the mark. He hardly even knows what the “mark” is that he is shooting for (unless it is a huge straw man). Therefore, his replies are what are truly “arbitrary, speculative, inconsistent, and unconvincing.”

He isn’t even consistent in his claims about how strong the Biblical evidence for the papacy is. At times he uses phrases like “explicit” and “inescapably compelling”. At other times, Dave refers to the Biblical papacy as an acorn that would only later grow into an oak tree. 

That’s right. The former descriptions I applied to the biblical evidences themselves — just as one might for the Trinity, which underwent much later development, utilizing the great amount of biblical data, which was, however, not explicitly laid out in all its (later-determined) orthodox dimensions in Scripture. I used the latter description primarily for the papacy as it slowly developed through history. Jason needs to understand that when a Catholic is discussing evidence for a Catholic doctrine, he is including among the whole range of data direct evidences for the kernels or acorns of later fully-developed doctrines. This is not contradictory; it is merely presupposing the notion of development within itself. All points of view start with premises and assumptions. The trick is to be self-consistent and to arrive at true premises in the first place.

Nor is this assumption (of development of doctrine) exclusively Catholic, by any means; it is found ubiquitously in books on New Testament or biblical theology, and in biblical commentaries, which speak constantly of developing understandings, or progressive revelation through time, among biblical writers and subsequent Christians. The papacy is just one of all the Christian doctrines which develop in such a fashion. Jason’s confusion and arbitrary intermingling of early and late developments throughout his writings on this subject betray his own inadequate comprehension of what development of doctrine is, and its inevitability, not just in Catholicism, but in Christianity-at-large. The great Church historian Jaroslav Pelikan (then Lutheran, now Orthodox) has written very cogently about this:

It was heresy that constantly changed, that was guilty of innovation, that did not stick to “the faith which God entrusted to his people once and for all” (Jude 3); orthodoxy was “always the same” (semper eadem).

That definition of unchangeable truth made Christian orthodoxy, whether Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox or Protestant, highly vulnerable to the attacks of the Enlightenment in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries . . . Through the use of critical history, orthodoxy, as well as heresy, was seen as having been subject to historical change. For example, despite the elevation of the dogma of the Trinity to normative status as supposedly traditional doctrine by the Council of Nicea in 325, there was not a single Christian thinker East or West before Nicea who could qualify as consistently and impeccably orthodox. The conclusion that Enlightenment thinkers drew from this discovery was that all truth — except perhaps their own — had been historically conditioned and was therefore relative. The “Vincentian canon” represented an impossible idealization of the supposed doctrinal continuity of the Christian tradition . . . Historicism and relativism seemed to be the only alternative.

It was the historic achievement of the nineteenth century — primarily, though by no means solely, of John Henry Newman — to stand this argument on its head. Newman’s book of 1845, An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, not only acknowledged the fact of a change in the history of Christian doctrine; it embraced it. It was characteristic of all great ideas, Newman insisted, even of those propounded by “inspired teachers,” that they were not laid down once and for all in their complete form; they grew from simple beginnings, through all kinds of vicissitudes, finally to emerge in mature form. In short, they developed. Thus a dynamic organic metaphor was substituted for a static mechanical one . . . Hence it should not be surprising to discover that even the most saintly of the early church fathers seemed confused about such fundamental articles of faith as the Trinity and original sin. It was to be expected, because they were participants in the ongoing development, not transmitters of an unalloyed and untouched patrimony . . .

The difference between Protestantism and Catholicism, for Newman, was not, as earlier apologists had claimed, that Protestantism was constantly changing while Catholicism retained a continuity that could be equated with uniformity across the centuries, but the exact opposite: Protestantism remained stuck in the first century, like a fly in amber, while Catholicism affirmed development. Of course Newman recognized that not all development was a good thing — cancer, too, was a growth. Therefore he closed the Essay on Development with a set of seven criteria by which to discern healthy from unhealthy development, truth from error.  (The Melody of Theology: A Philosophical Dictionary, Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard Univ. Press, 1988, 52-54, “Development of Doctrine”)

In discussing the Trinity (to follow his own example cited above), Pelikan refers to,

. . . the lack of any one passage of Scripture in which the entire doctrine of the Trinity was affirmed. Strictly speaking, the Trinity is not a biblical doctrine, but a church doctrine that tries to make consistent sense of the biblical language and teaching. (Ibid., 257, “Trinity”)

He approvingly quotes Cardinal Newman referring to the early papacy as something that was operating below the surface, something that might at times only show “little” evidence of its existence. Dave himself describes the early Christians’ understanding of the papacy as “a growing understanding”. So, which is it? 

Both; precisely as with the Holy Trinity, in the Bible and in the understandings of early Christians, where (as Pelikan noted above), “there was not a single Christian thinker East or West before Nicea who could qualify as consistently and impeccably orthodox,” and, “even the most saintly of the early church fathers seemed confused about such fundamental articles of faith as the Trinity and original sin.” The papacy is no different, but we have seen plenty in the Bible to strongly confirm it, just as we see plenty (tons, which I documented in two lengthy tracts 20 years ago — which now appear on my website) for trinitarianism.

Both doctrines developed, as do all doctrines, to more or less degrees, including even the canon of the New Testament itself. Jason’s argument, then, is arbitrary and an instance of tunnel-vision. He thinks that the papacy (and other “Catholic” things like Mariology) suffer from these “dilemmas” or “problems,” when in fact, all Christian doctrines undergo the same process of development.

Dave will refer to the Biblical evidence for the papacy as explicit, inescapably compelling, etc. at one point, but then he’ll say elsewhere that the evidence for it is like an acorn, below the surface, something that was only gradually understood, etc. It seems that Dave, like other Catholic apologists, is trying to have it both ways on this issue. 

No; I am trying to be true to reality and Christian history, as well as to the nature of the evidences in the Bible, as explained in great detail above. The developmental synthesis (as a framework to interpret the history of doctrine) is able to grasped by anyone, if they will simply read and try to understand what people like Jaroslav Pelikan and John Henry Cardinal Newman are saying, with regard to development and its inevitability — its inescapability — in theology.

Dave cites Matthew 16:18-19 as the best Biblical evidence for the papacy. I refute the Catholic interpretation of that passage in a recent reply to Dave elsewhere . . . 

How well he argued the point is, of course, another matter entirely. But I’m glad that Jason has at last responded to this portion of my argument, after two years or so.

I’ve given Dave some examples of how his approach toward passages about Peter could lead to the conclusion that other people were Popes, if we were to apply Dave’s reasoning to other passages. 

And this has now been demonstrated to be altogether fallacious reasoning on Jason’s part, based on profound misunderstandings of my presentation, and construction of convenient straw men, which he then proceeds to vigorously shoot down.

I now want to present a list of 51 Biblical proofs for Pauline primacy. This list uses fallacious reasoning similar to Dave’s. 

This list is (1) based on the miscomprehension of my list that I have been detailing, and (2) not even a serious effort on Jason’s part, because it is intended as a reductio ad absurdum and not his own argument, which he himself believes. Reductio ad absurdum arguments only succeed when they start with the actual premises of the argument being criticized. Since Jason’s does not, it fails utterly. But it has a host of factual errors as well, as I will demonstrate.

Catholics can’t object to this list by pointing to post-Biblical evidence for a Petrine papacy, since the issue under discussion is whether the Biblical evidence supports a papacy. Nobody denies that a Petrine papacy eventually developed in Rome. The question is whether that papacy was just a later development or is a teaching of the scriptures as well. I’ve documented in my reply to Dave linked above that not only does the Bible not mention a papacy, but neither do any of the post-Biblical sources in the earliest centuries of Christianity. 

This is sheer nonsense (especially once the necessary understanding of development is obtained by an inquirer), and I will let readers judge the case for themselves, from the above arguments, and the many other papers and links on my Papacy Page, as well as the lengthy treatment in my first book, A Biblical Defense of Catholicism. I also highly recommend the books Upon This Rock, by Steve Ray, and Jesus, Peter, and the Keys, by Scott Butler et al.

If Ephesus had been the capital of the Roman empire, and the Ephesian church had gradually become more and more prominent, 

That’s the problem; it did neither, so why does Jason bother with this foolishness? Who caresabout imaginary history, when we have real Church history staring us in the face?

the bishops of Ephesus could have claimed that the Bible teaches a Pauline or Johannine primacy. 

If the papacy was merely a result of historical happenstance and parochial, ethnocentric power politics at Rome, then why is it that even the Orthodox accept papal, or Petrine primacy?

Maybe they could have produced a list like this: 

Again, I reiterate that without the backdrop of Paul being called by our Lord Jesus the Rock upon which He would build His Church, and seeing that Paul wasn’t given the keys of the kingdom, the other “Pauline proofs” have no persuasive power, not even cumulatively (not to mention that there exists no corresponding “Pauline papal” tradition in the early Church to back up this interpretation). These “proofs” (i.e., when they are accurate and factual at all, which is much more often than not the case, as I will demonstrate) simply show that he was a great and preeminent apostle. Apostle and pope are two different offices. Virtually all Christians agree, e.g., that the office of apostle ceased around 100 AD, with St. John’s death.

Nearly all of Jason’s Pauline Proofs are of a fallacious, frivolous, and foolish nature. Most are factually incorrect even about the biblical data or notions that they purport to deal with. None of them expressly say that St. Paul was given an office as the head of the Church, as Matthew 16:18-19 relates about Jesus’ commission to Peter (which is the foundation for all the other corresponding Petrine Proofs). Many of the “proofs” are fun to refute, though (in a sort of entertaining Bible Quiz effort). I have replied to 36 out of 51 of them — usually when I immediately suspected a factual error or thought of a biblical reply (later verified by a consultation with the Bible or Strong’s Concordance, etc.) which nullified the “proof.” The rest were simply irrelevant and ultimately meaningless, for the reasons outlined above, having to do with Jason’s miscomprehension of what my list was trying to prove.

1. Paul is the only apostle who is called God’s chosen vessel who will bear His name before Jews and Gentiles (Acts 9:15). 

The RSV reads “a chosen instrument of mine,” not “THE chosen instrument . . . ” Nor is it even used as a title or name, like Rock (Petros) is. And it is not exclusive. Peter certainly did both as well.

2. Paul is the last apostle chosen by God, apart from the other twelve. 

That implies preeminence??? Paul himself said that “I am the least of all the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God” (1 Corinthians 15:9).

3. The resurrected Christ appears to Paul in a different way than He appeared to the other apostles (Acts 9:3-6). 

Yes, in a voice only, and invisibly. That hardly compares with Peter and the other disciples (of whom St. Paul was not included) fishing with the risen Jesus and having breakfast with him (John 21:1-15).

4. Paul is the only apostle who publicly rebukes and corrects another apostle (Galatians 2:11). 

So what? He was always feuding with others, such as with Barnabas and John Mark. He had a strong personality, as one would expect for his mission, and what he had to endure at thge hands of unbelievers. He was probably a lot like the volatile St. Jerome. Popes can be rebuked; that is nothing new in Catholic theology and ecclesiology. St. Dominic and St. Catherine of Siena and many others did that.

5. Paul is the only apostle who refers to his authority over all the churches (1 Corinthians 4:17, 7:17, 2 Corinthians 11:28). 

That’s an authority all apostles had, but it was a temporary office, and so has nothing to do with the question of the papacy as an ongoing office.

6. Paul is the only apostle to call himself “father” (1 Corinthians 4:15). 

So what? Paul called Abraham (who had never heard of Jesus) “the father of us all” (Romans 4:16).

7. Paul is the steward of God’s grace (Ephesians 3:2). This means that Paul is the overseer of salvation. Fellowship with Paul and his successors is necessary for salvation. 

I thought there was only one mediator (so my esteemed Protestant friends always inform me, in concern for my soul)???!!!!!!! Paul shows this heretical attitude more than once, since in 1 Corinthians 9:22 he speaks of “saving” people, as if he were the one who did it, and not Jesus Christ, the one true mediator, as he himself taught, in puzzling contradiction to his heretical statements elsewhere (1 Timothy 2:5). Almost as frightening as that horrifying Catholic Mary-as-Mediatrix business . . .

[Note: the preceding paragraph was satirical and tongue-in-cheek]

8. Paul is mentioned more in the New Testament than any other apostle. 

I believe Peter gets the nod. By my (admittedly fallible) reckoning, he appears 191 times (162 as Peter or Simon Peter, 23 as Simon, and 6 as Cephas). Counting up PaulPaul’s, and his earlier name Saul in my Strong’s Concordance (the good old-fashioned way), I come up with 186. Close, but somebody’s gotta win . . . .

9. The book of Acts, which mentions all of the apostles, discusses Paul more than any other apostle. 

Probably true (I didn’t count), but it is only one book. The whole Bible mentions Peter more times.

12. Paul is the first apostle to be taken to Heaven to receive a revelation (2 Corinthians 12:1-4). 

Arguably, that honor goes to St. Stephen (Acts 7:55-56), even before Paul’s conversion (see Acts 8:1). Paul said that he didn’t know if his “vision and revelations” were received “in the body or out” (2 Cor 12:2).

13. Paul is the only apostle Satan was concerned about enough to give him a thorn in the flesh (2 Corinthians 12:7). 

14. Paul seems to have suffered for Christ more than any other apostle (2 Corinthians 11:21-33). 

So what? Pre-Christian Job got much worse than that from Satan (many Bible commentators think the “thorn” was some sort of eye disease), yet God Himself called him “blameless and upright” and said that there was “none like him on the earth” (Job 1:8).

15. Paul seems to have received more opposition from false teachers than any other apostle did, since he was the Pope (Romans 3:8, 2 Corinthians 10:10, Galatians 1:7, 6:17, Philippians 1:17). 

That would make people like Walter Martin or Hank Hanegraaf or James White the pope as well . . . I don’t think any of them would take too kindly to that suggestion. :-)

17. Only Paul’s teachings were so advanced, so deep, that another apostle acknowledged that some of his teachings were hard to understand (2 Peter 3:15-16). Peter’s understanding of doctrine doesn’t seem to be as advanced as Pope Paul’s. Paul has the primacy of doctrinal knowledge. 

25. Paul had the best training and education of all the apostles (Philippians 3:4-6). 

That would make St. Thomas Aquinas or St. Augustine popes, but the former wasn’t even a bishop (yet he is considered the most brilliant Catholic theologian and philosopher ever, by many Catholics, including several popes, who expressed as much in encyclicals). Theological brilliance is not the same thing as ecclesiological authority and jurisdiction.

19. Paul singles himself out as the standard of orthodoxy (1 Corinthians 14:37-38). 

That’s no different from every Protestant who believes in sola Scriptura. I’ve maintained for eleven years now that Protestantism in effect (as a matter of inevitable logical reduction) makes every person their own pope, since the lone Protestant is granted the prerogative to determine “orthodoxy” with infinitely more power and scope and “freedom” than any pope has — because popes have to strictly follow precedent. I thank Jason for spectacularly confirming my contention! St. Paul writes (the passage above):

If any one thinks that he is a prophet, or spiritual, he should acknowledge that what I am writing to you is a command of the Lord. If any one does not recognize this, he is not recognized. (RSV)

It is one thing for an apostle and writer of inspired Scripture to claim this; quite another for a mere monk in the 16th-century, who was neither an apostle, nor inspired (let alone a prophet of apocalyptic destruction):

Inasmuch as I know for certain that I am right, I will be judge above you and above all the angels, as St. Paul says, that whoever does not accept my doctrine cannot be saved. For it is the doctrine of God, and not my doctrine; therefore my judgment also is God’s and not mine . . . It would be better that all bishops were murdered, and all abbeys and cloisters razed to the ground, than that one soul should perish . . . If they will not listen to God’s Word . . . what can more justly befall them than a violent upheaval which shall root them out of the earth? And we would smile did it happen. All who contribute body, goods . . . that the rule of the bishops may be destroyed are God’s dear children and true Christians. (Martin Luther, Against the Falsely So-Called Spiritual Estate of the Pope and Bishops, July 1522; emphasis mine)

So that was Luther’s view. He applied it even to the Bible itself, where he felt quite qualified (as if he were an apostle) to determine whether a book was apostolic or not, wholly apart from received tradition.

With regard to the Protestant perspective on authority and theological certainty, well-known Reformed pastor, theologian, and author R.C. Sproul writes (with, however, a bit more moderation than Luther exhibits):

For the Reformers no church council, synod, classical theologian, or early church father is regarded as infallible. All are open to correction and critique . . . (In Boice, James Montgomery, ed., The Foundation of Biblical Authority, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 1978, ch. 4: “Sola Scriptura: Crucial to Evangelicalism,” 109)

Dr. Sproul — like most informed Protestant scholars — gives a nod to some necessary church authority, of course, and the guidance of (mostly Protestant, or Protestant-sanctioned) tradition, yet the precise manner in which the individual works out this sola Scripturaapproach in his own life — particularly given the parallel premise of perspicuity, or clearness, of Scripture — and the insuperable epistemological problems and inability to determine orthodoxy, have never been satisfactorily explained within the Protestant paradigm.

When I was attending an Assembly of God church in the mid-1980s, the pastor (seemingly a jovial, down-to-earth type of guy) used to have a saying: “keep your pastors honest” (in other words, “correct me if you find my teaching to be contrary to the Bible”). Well, I took him at his word and actually applied this teaching one day. The result? I was denounced from the pulpit as a troublemaker and virtually excommunicated from the church. :-) I think that illustration serves better than 10,000 words in demonstrating the deficiency-in-practice of the non-biblical notion of sola Scriptura and the unlimited exercise of private judgment of Christian individuals.

20. Only Paul refers to himself having a rod, a symbol of authority (1 Corinthians 4:21). 

Yes, to possibly whip their behinds, as the metaphor was hearkening back to his statements in 1 Corinthians 3:1-2, where he referred to them as “babes in Christ” who needed spiritual “milk, not solid food.” That is not so much about Paul as pope, as it is about the Corinthians as childish and immature, and in need of a “spiritual spanking.” :-)

21. Paul initiates the council of Acts 15 by starting the debate with the false teachers (Acts 15:2) and delivering a report to the other church leaders (Acts 15:4). 

This is inaccurate. In 15:2-3 we are told that “Paul and Barnabas and some of the others were appointed to go up to Jerusalem to the apostles and the elders about this question. So being sent their way by the church . . .” That is hardly consistent with Paul being the pope, because he was directed by others, as under orders.

22. Peter’s comments in Acts 15:7-11 are accepted only because Pope Paul goes on to confirm them (Acts 15:12). 

This is untrue as well. After “much debate” (15:7), Peter (of all people!) rose and gave his statement on the matter (15:7-11), after which there was “silence” (15:12). Then Barnabas and Paul “related what signs and wonders God had done through them among the Gentiles” (15:12). It was “confirmed” by James, the local bishop, who, in his remarks, immediately appealed to “Simeon” (i.e., Peter, because he had the highest authority). Later, the “apostles and the elders” again send Paul and three other men to report to their charges what had been decided in Council (15:22-25). If Paul is pope anywhere in this narrative, I sure don’t see it.

23. When the Corinthians were dividing over which apostle to associate themselves with, Paul’s name was the first one mentioned (1 Corinthians 1:12). 

That was only what Paul reported the laypeople to have said, but when he talked about the same thing (1 Cor 3:5), he mentioned Apollos first, and didn’t mention Cephas (Peter); therefore, obviously, Apollos is far more important than Peter . . .

[Note: the preceding paragraph was satirical and tongue-in-cheek]

24. Paul was the only apostle with the authority to deliver people over to Satan (1 Corinthians 5:5). 

Peter has that beat by a mile. His words had the authority to deliver people to death, in an immediate judgment (Acts 5:1-11). But Jason’s scenario is inaccurate yet again. St. Paul’s teaching was that the Corinthians already had the power and responsibility amongst themselves to deliver gross sinners over to Satan for penitential and reform purposes, which is why Paul was shocked by the report of sexual sin (5:1). Paul says, “Is it not those inside the church whom you are to judge?” (5:12), and, “Do you not know that the saints will judge the world? . . . How much more matters pertaining to this life!” (6:2-3) All Paul does is lend his agreement and prestigious apostolic authority to the (what should have been routine and obvious, according to Paul) practice of reforming the sinner through the stigma of group pressure. This doesn’t imply in the least that only he himself had such authority. Quite the contrary, as he teaches above.

26. Paul is the only apostle to call the gospel “my gospel” (Romans 2:16). 

He also taught about the “gospel of God” (Romans 1:1, 15:16, 2 Cor 11:7, 1 Thess 2:2,9), “the gospel of his Son” (Rom 1:9), and “the gospel of Christ” (Rom 15:19,25, 1 Cor 9:12,18, 2 Cor 9:13, 10:14, Gal 1:7, Phil 1:27, 1 Thess 3:2). Obviously, then (by straightforward logical deduction), Paul was equating himself with God the Father and God the Son, since the gospel is theirs and also his own. The Father, the Son, and the Pauline Spirit?

[Note: the preceding paragraph was satirical and tongue-in-cheek]

27. Paul writes more about the identity of the church than any other apostle does (1 Corinthians 12, Colossians 1, Ephesians 4-5), which we might expect a Pope to do. Paul is the standard of orthodoxy and the Vicar of Christ on earth, so he has the primary responsibility for defining what the church is and who belongs to it. 

Again, all low-church Protestants who accept sola Scriptura and the utterly unbiblical concept of an invisible church routinely do this (I’ve been told many times, personally, that I am not a member of the church or unsaved or damned because I am not a Calvinist, or because I deny faith alone, or because I ask Mary to intercede to her Son for me, etc.). Does that make each Protestant who believes these things a pope?

28. Paul writes more about church government than any other apostle does, such as in his pastoral epistles. 

Many Protestants who accept sola Scriptura do this as well; hence the inability of Protestants to agree on the biblical form of Church government.

34. Paul’s clothing works miracles (Acts 19:11-12). 

Peter’s shadow works miracles (Acts 5:15), which is far more impressive.

38. The Jews in Acts 21:28 recognize Paul’s primacy, saying that he’s the man they hold most responsible for teaching Christianity everywhere. 

Peter was also so regarded by the Jews (Acts 4:1-13) as the leader and spokesman of Christianity, and by the common people in the same way (Acts 2:37-41; 5:15).

39. Paul had authority over the finances of the church (Acts 24:26, 2 Corinthians 9:5, Philippians 4:15-18). 

Peter had authority over the Church, period (Matthew 16:18-19).

40. Paul acts as the chief shepherd of the church, taking responsibility for each individual (2 Corinthians 11:29). For example, Paul was Peter’s shepherd (Galatians 2:11). 

And Peter was Paul’s shepherd, when Paul went to Jerusalem specifically to see Peter for fifteen days in the beginning of his ministry proper (Gal 1:18). Paul was commissioned by Peter, James and John (Gal 2:9) to preach to the Gentiles.

41. Paul interprets prophecy (2 Thessalonians 2:3-12). 

So does Peter (2 Pet 1:16-21).

42. Only Paul is referred to as being set apart for his ministry from his mother’s womb (Galatians 1:15). 

So were John the Baptist (Luke 1:13-17) and Jeremiah (Jeremiah 1:5), thus correcting another one of Jason’s inadvertently bogus claims.

43. Jesus Christ is revealed in Paul (Galatians 1:16), meaning that Paul and his successors are the infallible standard of Christian orthodoxy. 

And Paul prayed the same thing for the church at Ephesus:

that the God of our Lord jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened . . . (Ephesians 1:17-18; revelation has the same Greek root as revealed)

And he thought it could be true of all Christians, as well:

Now if we are children, then we are heirs — heirs of God and co-heirs of Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. (Romans 8:17-18: NIV; also KJV: “. . . in us.” Cf. 2 Cor 3:1-3)

This fits in well with the Protestant notion that every individual Protestant becomes, ultimately, his own arbiter of orthodoxy.

[Note: the preceding sentence was tongue-in-cheek]

44. Paul is the only apostle who works by himself, only later coordinating his efforts with the other apostles (Galatians 1:16-18). 

This gets stranger by the minute:

Philip went down to a city of Samaria, and proclaimed to them the Christ . . . they believed Philip as he preached good news about the kingdom of God . . . (Acts 8:5,12; cf. 8:26-40 — all before Paul had even converted)

Jason makes it easy to refute his statements, since so often they are exclusive claims.

45. Only Paul is referred to as bearing the brandmarks of Christ (Galatians 6:17). 

It is true that this is the only time the Greek word stigma appears in Scripture, as far as I can tell (from which Catholics derive our term stigmata). However, Paul often strongly implies that any believer could or should suffer in like manner (Rom 8:13,17, 12:1, 2 Cor 1:5-7, cf. 1 Peter 4:1,13); indeed, he urged people to imitate him, as we see in the next section.

46. Every Christian was interested in Paul and what was happening in his life, looking to him as their example and their encouragement (Philippians 1:12-14). 

But he wasn’t the only example of faith and bearing under suffering (not by a long shot):

so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises. (Hebrews 6:12; cf. the roster of the heroes of the faith in ch. 11)

You also be patient . . . As an example of suffering and patience, brethren, take the prophets . . . (James 5:8, 10)

[also Christ Himself: 1 Peter 2:21 and bishops: 1 Peter 5:3]

Paul even included Silvanus and Timothy among those whom he exhorted his hearers to follow as an example (1 Thess 1:1,6-7, 2 Thess 3:1,9; cf. Phil 3:17).

47. Christians served Paul (Philippians 2:30). 

So what? They serve each other, too (Matthew 23:11, Mark 9:35, 10:44, Ephesians 5:21).

50. Only Paul is referred to as passing his papal authority on to successors who would also have authority over the church of God (Acts 20:28). 

What does this have to do with “papal authority,” since Paul was speaking to bishops (see 20:17)? How do a bunch of bishops represent “papal authority”? This is collegial, or (potentially) conciliar, or episcopal authority, but not papal. Nor is there any word about succession here. He is merely exhorting bishops, as Peter does in 1 Peter 5:1-4. The real (apostolic) succession in Scripture occurs when Judas is replaced by Matthias (Acts 1:15-26). There is also a strong early tradition of the succession of bishops at Rome, and some sort of papal primacy (though it is not a biblical one; i.e., it is not detailed in the New Testament, since most of it was written before the succession in Rome commenced). We see this in the letters of St. Clement of Rome, early on.

Good, effective satire, farce, or sarcasm is always based on truth, somewhere along the line. That’s why Jason’s attempt fails miserably. He doesn’t understand what he is parodying and he can’t even (over and over) get his biblical facts right in so doing. If this is the best Jason can do in his “refutation” of Petrine primacy (and my paper defending same), I suggest that he try another line of reasoning. But it has been immensely enjoyable studying the Scriptures. I have learned a lot (as I always do when I study the Holy Bible: God’s own inspired Word and Revelation), and I come away from this endeavor more convinced than ever of the truth of the papacy, as taught in the Catholic Church (and of development of doctrine, as classically expounded by Cardinal Newman).

The weakness of the arguments opposing the papacy and development of doctrine (rightly, consistently understood) has, in my mind, been demonstrated once again. It’s yet another case where it wasn’t so much that the Catholic position “won out” over the opposing views, but more so (as in sports) that the suggested alternative views have “lost” due to their great weakness and implausibility: straining and striving to vainly fit themselves into the facts of both the relevant biblical data, and of Church history and the history of doctrine in particular. One can be the most brilliant lawyer, debater, or thinker in world history (even a clever sophist), but if they have no “case,” they will be defeated by facts and the inherent power of biblical revelation — rightly interpreted within the mind of the Church, the unbroken apostolic Tradition, and the overall consensus of the Church Fathers — every time. As the old proverb says, “you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

* * * * *

2017-08-29T13:53:29-04:00

(the Flip Side of the Problem of Evil Argument Against Christianity) + the Nature of Meaningfulness in Atheism

(vs. Mike Hardie)

Dialogue

Image by “geralt”. Uploaded on 6-6-15 [Pixabay / CC0 public domain]

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(6-5-01)

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See Part One

***

[Mike Hardie’s words will be in blue]

 

How about committing genocide or child molestation, or deliberately oppressing people through wealth or political power? What if those things gave a person “meaning,” since you have admitted that these things are relative to the person, and strictly subjective?

Then that would be an evil person. So? We are just talking about whether one can consistently live without sinking into existential despair.

And if that is true, no one else can tell the person who does these evils (which we all — oddly — seem to agree are “evil”) that they are wrong — it being a relative matter in the first place. This is now very close to the heart of my logical and moral problem with atheist morality (which, in my opinion, always reduces to relativism and hence to these horrendous scenarios).

Again, we are not talking about morality here. To be totally clear: I am a  realist as regards the objectivity of moral standards.

On what basis?

I am not a realist as regards the objectivity of where human beings may find the sort of hope and purpose that keeps them from sinking into existential despair. Now, it could be the case that there are some things which everyone does in fact find hope and purpose in, but there need not be. This does not imply moral relativism, anymore than differences in opinion about music does.

Here’s the way I look at it. Either life is meaningful, or it is not.

Now that’s the first completely undeniable thing you have said! LOL

(I don’t believe there is such a thing as a single, objectively true “meaning of life” in this sense; meaning in this sense is an individual matter. One person might find meaning in artistic endeavour, another in truth, etc.) If it is meaningful, it is meaningful no matter how much of it there is; if it is meaningless, it is as meaningless if it lasts an eternity as if it lasts a day.

I’m not talking about enjoyable pastimes, of which I have many, including art and music. I’m talking about the ultimate purpose and meaning of the life and the universe. Anyone can forget about ultimate questions (or immediate problems and hurts) by enjoying pleasures. But that has no relevance to serious philosophy or pondering of the deepest questions that all human beings must face.

Now, would it be great if there were an afterlife where whatever is meaningful to us is always present? Yes. But this does not make the joy we can find in a finite life less valuable; it makes it more valuable.

Yes, an afterlife makes this life more valuable. Do you mean to say this?????

No. What I’m saying can be analogized this way: suppose you have a small box of Junior Mints. Suppose you really like the things. Would it be great if you had the jumbo, movie-theater sized box? Sure! Does the fact that you don’t have the big box mean that your little box is worthless, or of less value? No; if anything, it makes what you have got more valuable, because you have less.

Fine, but you still have tremendous and troubling implications of your position to deal with, as I think I have shown. It took a while, but we have finally arrived at the essence of my critique and inquiry. I have stated it before, but there is nothing like following through the logic step-by-step and seeing where it in fact leads.

Unfortunately, your tremendous and troubling indications were based on a misunderstanding, as explained above.

Of course I don’t really think Christians in general advocate pie-in-the-sky.

Good for you.

But I think this is because Christians, like anyone else, see value in this life that is worth actively pursuing; this life isn’t only valuable as a kind of testing ground for seeing who gets to go to heaven.

But we have a very good reason to think that, within our paradigm. I argue that the atheist does not, and is simply living off the cultural (and internal spiritual) “capital” of Christianity, whether he realizes it or not.

I’ll play along: demonstrate that this claim is true. Show me that I do, or must, operate within your Christian paradigm. (Bear in mind, incidentally, that you are now arguing for presuppositionalism — which you previously claimed to abhor…!) Bear in mind that “well, show me how atheism is sufficient” is NOT an argument for what you say above. Asking me for a proof of X, and then deciding that you find the proof insufficient is not the same as a disproof of X (especially when, as I’ve mentioned previously, you seem to be asking for a proof of something that isn’t theoretically subject to proofs!).

Thanks for the interesting and cordial dialogue.

And it makes it all the more meaningful for us to pursue that value in this life, rather than waiting passively for a deity to just give it to us.

Again, we ought to do both. If heaven exists, that is ultimately our goal and “home” and we are pilgrims here (an old Christian theme); passing through, and trying to take as many to heaven with us as we can (out of love for them and for God). The existence of heaven does not mean, however (in any serious version of Christianity), that we are passive. No reading of the New Testament can sustain that view. That comes from human sin and hypocrisy. Pie-in-the-sky is an avoidance of Christian responsibility and a psychological crutch.

I don’t see the problem of evil as an existential problem for Christians — or at least, not as any greater just because they are Christian. The problem of evil is a philosophical problem. Hume’s statement (quoting Epicurus) is the classic one:

“Is [God] willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is impotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Whence then is evil?” (Dialogues, Part X)

And I answer: He is able and willing, but human free will makes it necessary for even God to providentially construct reality so as to incorporate the suffering and evil brought on by rebellion and sin, into the whole plan, which will end up just and good.

I’ve never seen an atheist argue that evil makes Christian life futile, exactly, just that it constitutes an important problem for the coherency of the Christian worldview.

On the face of it, yes. But it is also extremely difficult to explain to an atheist or any non-Christian how evil fits into God’s Providence, due to free will. Don’t worry: very few Christians understand the place of suffering and evil within Christian theological presuppositions, either. It’s just a very difficult problem all around. I may think I understand it, then the next migraine I get or car accident I’m in, or debts piling up make me throw it out the window and cry “why?????!!!!!!” :-)

Again, I don’t think there’s one simple answer to this. If you’re asking where I personally find meaning… well, I couldn’t even give a simple answer to that. The simplest would be “in lots of things”. In philosophy. In music. In relationships. In finishing all the campaigns in Age of Empires II. Etc. Lots of things make me happy, and there’s lots of things I find meaningful enough to pursue.

We all have things we like to do, to pass the time. We all want to love and to be loved. No one needs to argue those things. My questions, though, are: “what is the ultimate meaning of life for the atheist?” “Is there a cosmic meaning to be ascertained?” “Does mortality present a problem for meaning?” “What sort of things do atheists agonize over, in this regard?” Etc.

I don’t think the answer here is going to be the same for every atheist, simply because — unlike Christianity — atheism is not an all-encompassing worldview. Atheism is only the denial of theism, not the affirmation of some other religion in its place.

Do I interpret this – bottom line – as “relativism”? If not, why not?

No. It’s simply the fact that atheism in itself is not a worldview, merely the denial of theism (and, by extension, Christianity and most other religious worldviews). This isn’t to say atheists don’t have worldviews, just that no particular one is implied by the mere fact that they are atheists. To see this, just take to heart the classic quote (from Michael Martin, I think): that we are all atheists, but we just happen to believe in one less God. You are an atheist with regard to the Gods of Hinduism, for example… but does this atheism, in itself, imply any worldview? No; you hold to that particular atheism, and then you hold to another worldview in addition to that. Moreover, you and I both share atheism in this sense — I don’t believe in the Gods of Hinduism either — and yet we have different worldviews… yet this hardly means that the denial of Hinduism implies relativism!

For the Christian, the answer is simple (now, mind you, this is not an argument — simply a statement):

My purpose is to love and serve the God Who created me, and to become one with Him. Likewise, I am to love all fellow human beings as God loved me (because He is love, and this is the ground of the whole thing); to desire the best for everyone, just as God does. And I am to share the way to know and serve this God with others so that they, too, can know and love Him and be with Him forever in eternal bliss.

Everything else comes under this “category.” For example, leisure is loving God insofar as it allows me to rest in order to prepare for more effectively doing the works that God wants me to do. If I hike in the mountains, it is loving God through the admiration of His creation. Loving wives and children becomes a parable for God’s love for us, with many lessons attained therein. Everything in life has the highest purpose.

Okay. But keep in mind — just to see things from the atheist’s perspective — that the loony Candide-like theist (who believes everything is totally great all the time) also has a pretty “simple” answer to give too. We can agree that his answer is both incorrect and unnecessary — i.e., it’s false, and nobody would have to believe it in order to avoid existential despair. This is pretty much the way atheists will regard the Christian answer, too.

So the atheist sees Christianity as the philosophical equivalent of the nut (a truly mentally ill person, out of reality, with a religious veneer) who has a frozen smile and goofy countenance, and who thinks everything is perfect at all times? Is this what you mean to say?

The atheist sees the Christian as someone who is wrong. He certainly needn’t be so uncharitable as to assume that he is also a drooling idiot.

You seem to recognize important, obvious distinctions of sociological category, yet you say that this is how the atheist would categorize the Christian view. Now granted, I see plenty of caricaturing (and sometimes downright anti-Christian bigotry) going on on this list, but I thought you were more sophisticated than that. :-)

What does sociological category have to do with anything? I am merely talking about differences in what may seem false and pie-in-the-sky-eyed. Candide-like theism seems that way to you; Christianity may seem the same way to atheists. This does not mean that atheists must be so unforgiving towards theists as you are towards poor Candide… one may be wrong, and believe in pie-in-the-sky, without being a gibbering simpleton.

If you mean, “does atheism in itself provide some equally full-fledged account of greatest meaning and purpose”, then the answer is no. Atheism is a statement of what one doesn’t believe, not what one does. If you mean, “do atheists ever have notions of meaning or purpose”, then the answer, of course, is yes; nobody is just an atheist. It’s difficult to give you a really general account of what form those notions will take, though, simply because there are any number of possibilities. Atheists might find meaning in humanity, in personal pursuits, etc. Some atheists are even “religious” in a sense, as in Unitarian Universalism…

But you maintain that enough meaning can be mustered up on an individual level to avoid existential despair and hopelessness?

The only kind of meaning that is relevant to avoiding existential despair and hopelessness is the kind the individual finds to be there. Otherwise, it wouldn’t give him any hope, would it? Now, you could suppose that some attributions of hopefulness are both internal and external — i.e., we find them to be hopeful, and they are also hopeful “out there” independent of us (whatever that would mean). But their external hopefulness is irrelevant, because all that matters to our personal avoidance of despair is their internal, or subjective hopefulness.

We may need to all have some purpose, but the important thing about purpose and meaning and hope is that it is meaningful for us, not that it is true or normative in any objective sense. Purpose doesn’t need to be something “built into” us; we may not all have the same built-in end (with all due respect to Aristotle).

Okay; I don’t have any immediate reply to this.

I never claimed that atheists’ subjective notions of meaning or purpose were more worthy than Christian ones. As for your having an “objective basis”, this all boils down to whether or not Christianity is true.

Of course it does.

I mean, one could potentially find a basis for all one’s hopes and meaning in the Great Pumpkin, but this doesn’t become nonsubjective just
because one believes it.

Heaven as perpetual autumn…that would be fun! Whatever one thinks of the Christian view and its truth or falsity, at least it does provide the greatest meaning and purpose to one’s life. I’m simply trying to better understand if there is any sort of equivalent in the atheist’s life, and if not, if that is seen as existentially troubling and disturbing. I think a lot of this thought I have comes from the existentialist treatments, many of which seem to be an expression of gloom and sadness that God doesn’t exist, yet a determination to make a heroic “go of it” anyway.

I have a friend who is a cartoonist, and we once did a comic strip about various philosophies. The “existentialist” was a painter with a determined look on his face, painting a picture of a sunny day, while sitting in the pouring rain. :-) I guess a “nihilist” would be sitting in total darkness, painting a jet-black portrait or something.

I always picture existentialists as being more concerned with black clothing, growing goatees, and clove cigarettes. Chalk it up to the university experience. :)

LOLOLOL Are they still around? :-)

Maybe not generally in as obvious a disguise as I let on, but yeah. :)

I don’t doubt that it is fundamentally senseless and hopeless for many. Nor do I doubt that Christianity is one way of coming to terms with the universe. What I don’t believe is that Christianity is either a perfect answer to existential despair or a necessary one.

What do you think would be examples of beliefs sufficient to cause one to be in despair or deep depression about life and existence? Would you connect any of these to the essence and nature of atheism?

A belief sufficient to cause despair or deep depression would simply be a belief that all the things one would consider valuable are absent, or a belief that nothing is in fact valuable. Neither of these connect directly to atheism, unless of course one happened to think that only the worldview implied by theism were valuable.

The standard argument from evil supposes only that there is evil, not that the universe is entirely bad or even mostly bad.

Yes.

Is your existence less meaningful because it is just a pipe dream? If it isn’t, maybe you can see the atheist’s point.

Kinda sorta. I’m still struggling to make sense of it.

In a way, I think theism actually considerably downplays the enigmatic nature of the universe. Why? Because instead of trying to understand the universe as something completely unlike us, of which we are a mere part — a nonpurposive, nonpersonal thing — it tries to anthropomorphize; to reduce everything to basically human terms (mind, purpose, etc.).

I would say that since we have a mind, and since it is an unfathomably extraordinary, marvelous thing, then it stands to reason that the Universe as a whole, by analogy, might be construed either as, or designed by, and even greater Mind. That is not anthropomorphism; it is simply reasoning from existing, quite personal and experiential realities by analogy to the super-reality of the Universe. And of course, even a strict rationalist like Hume accepted this as a legitimate argument for God (as I showed in other posts).

Purpose is more difficult to reason through, but again, I would maintain that since we all seem to possess an inherent need for, or sense of it, that it is not implausible at all to posit that this was put into us by a Higher Being (or impersonal spirit or Mind) of some sort. So it is not necessarily imposing ourselves onto the Universe, but rather, I think it is much more so simply wondering how we get from the universe to us; what is entailed. This is nothing more than what Einstein himself wondered.

I think theists reduce what we don’t understand (the universe) to what we have an immanent understanding of (mind, person-ness) and then simply supposes that the mind in question is great beyond measure.

It is a quite plausible argument by analogy, in my opinion. Personhood and mind (and biological life) are quite the novelties in the universe, since we have yet to discover instances elsewhere. So the inquiring mind can’t help but wonder why that is: what our exception could possibly mean. We don’t say the exception is therefore meaningless because it is such a rare (in fact, unique) anomaly.

But, of course, to think of this exception as being somehow of greater value or significance is just the expression of our own human-centered view. (What’s more, we’re not really in a position at the moment to say just how rare or anomalous it is).

We’re certainly not in a position to say otherwise, since there is no scientific evidence suggesting it. I would venture to guess that 90 or 95 out of 100 atheists in 1940 (or even in 1970) would have said that surely we would find other life by 2000. But it didn’t work out that way, did it?

No. But given that we have yet to explore a single planet outside our own solar system, this is unsurprising. Alien life seems like a real possibility given the enormity of the universe, but we should hardly expect to see it in our own neighborhood, as it were.

Where do you get this 90-95% of atheists thing, though? I haven’t even noticed that belief in alien life was especially prevalent among atheists, much less that prevalent.

Nor do we have very good explanations for the origin of life.

Arguable, of course; those holding to the theory of abiogenesis would probably disagree.

So science thus far has told us nothing inconsistent with the notion that the universe is indeed man-centered, and that human beings are very special, being the only examples of their kind yet known to us in the universe.

No, science has not disproven this theory. But the point is, it has not been proven, either. Consider the analogy of planets to marbles; suppose we have a really gigantic bag of marbles. (Really really really gigantic.) Suppose we take out three marbles: 2 are black, only 1 is blue. Does this give us any reason to suppose that there is only one blue marble in the whole sack? I suppose some version of the anthropic principle might come into play here, but still…

Bear in mind that I’m not saying Christianity is somehow wrong because of this. I’m just trying to show you that the universe can be great and enigmatic without reducing it to the effects of mind.

But I deny your premise in the first place. We are simply observing it as it is, not projecting all our hopes and dreams onto it. The notion of heaven does not come by observing the universe. It is an internal, spiritual, mystical thing, not derived by empirical observation. But Jesus and His miracles and Resurrection are the sorts of things which lead us to believe that there is a life after this one.

I’m not sure what premise you’re denying here.

But the thing is, this is the issue as you’ve framed it. You’ve been asking why it is that atheists don’t despair, go mad, etc. That is simply asking why atheists don’t subjectively feel as though the universe were useless. The answer, of course, is that they subjectively feel that there is a sufficient amount of meaning, hope, etc. in the universe. Whether or not this is implanted in us by something, or shared by some deity, is a completely different question. Something doesn’t become less subjectively valuable because it is only subjective.

No, but it becomes less objectively valuable.

Right, but so what? Something becoming less objectively valuable doesn’t affect whether it is subjectively valuable.

I am talking about the ultimate logical implications of atheism, regardless of how one subjectively reacts to them. The very fact of objectivism and subjectivism (assuming one grants both as realities) allows the possibility that the atheist is not subjectively facing the objective logical implications of atheism (which I maintain are nihilism and despair).

How is the logical implication of the lack of objective meaning the lack of subjective meaning? This is like saying that the lack of a “one true flavour of ice cream that objectively tastes best” means that nobody can ultimately or consistently have a favourite flavour of ice cream.

People of all stripes do this all the time. We all are able to make it through life and be reasonably happy (at least on a surface, superficial level) because we are all masters at (the great majority of the time) not thinking about the truly important things in life. I do it; you do it, we all do. We all concentrate on this movie coming up, on that hot date, on the latest U2 or Van Morrison album (two of my favorites), on this new opportunity or hobby, etc. So the fact that most atheists are fairly happy, fulfilled people (like Christians or Buddhists or Zoroastrians or Druids) is of little relevance to my overall point in this discussion.

You seem to have in mind something like this:

1. Atheists may be subjectively happy, fulfilled, hopeful, etc.

2. But if atheism is true, then atheists’ lives are only subjectively happy, etc.

3. Therefore, atheists are objectively obligated to sink into existential despair.

To demonstrate the problem here with the ice cream analogy, ask yourself if this is valid:

1a. You may subjectively find cherry garcia to be good ice cream.

2a. But if it’s true that taste is merely subjective, then cherry  garcia only tastes good subjectively.

3a. Therefore, you are objectively obligated to not like cherry garcia.

See what I mean? 3a is clearly absurd, but this is exactly what 3 is doing, too.

What you seem to want is some account of how atheists can point to some fact and say, “here, this makes our lives meaningful in this sense regardless of our subjective notions of meaning”.

That would be a start, yes.

But again, I don’t think even theism has an account of this. You say that life is meaningful because God created you to be a certain way, or the universe to be a certain way; okay, suppose God really did do that. Does this make life hopeful or meaningful for you intrinsically? Of course not; it only serves to do that because you find this sort of value in your creator and his designs.

No! Because that would be — if true — the ontological and metaphysical and spiritual reality; the way things truly are, and how they were meant to be. We’re talking about internal coherence and consistency here. That would be one aspect of Christianity. Not a proof of it (it already presupposes the truth of Christianity), but an outcome which flows from the truth of Christianity. This is what gives our lives meaning, because we believe it to be the ontological reality of the universe. So you are saying that the only thing remotely akin to this for the atheist is subjective loves of toys, hobbies, or certain flavors of ice cream (all solely subjective things?).

Try, then, to construct a logical argument for “my life has value” from premises which contain no value judgments — i.e., sheer metaphysical statements. What you will find, obviously, is that at some point you have to introduce a non sequitur. For example:

1. God created me to have a purpose.

2. God will reward me in the afterlife.

3. Therefore, my life is meaningful for me.

(3) is a non sequitur. Nothing connects it to 1 and 2. What you need is an extra premise, thus:

1a. God created me to have purpose.

2a. God will reward me in the afterlife.

3a. God having given me a purpose, and the promise of his reward, are meaningful for me.

4a. Therefore, my life is meaningful for me.

Now it is valid. But 3a brings in a subjective attribution of meaning. There is no avoiding this.

Put it this way: if you didn’t care that God had created you, would you be somehow objectively wrong or mistaken in not caring?

Yes.

If so, how?

Because we maintain that all human beings have sufficient knowledge internally and from the external world to know that God exists, and that He is the Creator (whether He used evolution to create or not).

Suppose it’s true that we are rationally obligated to believe God exists. That does not imply that we are obligated to care about him or his purposes.

Where would the logical error be in “God created us to be one with Him, but I don’t personally find doing that particularly hopeful or useful”?

It’s not a logical error, but a moral error, and an abnormality, because God by nature is our Creator, and we are made to be in union with Him, just as a child is to a parent (but to an even greater degree).

And how would you deduce that it is a moral error?

Think about what you’re saying here. “That is not sufficiently meaningful for you.” How can you so confidently state that something may not be meaningful for another person?

I thought we were talking about universal felt needs and absolutes in some sense? If you want to now make the issue of meaning and purpose a strictly subjective one, then we can’t continue talking about it, because it would all be gibberish, like arguing why vanilla or chocolate ice cream is “better.”

The universe is all the greater and more enigmatic, in my opinion, if it doesn’t have purpose. Giving the universe a purpose is just a way of packaging it up into something we are readily familiar with. Far better, I think, to try to understand the universe as it is than to reduce it this way.

Why do you think the universe is greater with no purpose?

I think it’s greater in the sense of searching for truth, because it tries to deal with things as they are rather than things as we want them to be / can most easily make sense of them.

Back to that again. The argument from crutches / desire is also double-edged. You guys think we Christians are inventing a bunch of psychological crutches.

No, I said that I do not mean to argue any such thing.

We reply that if a desire exists, and is well-nigh universal, that it is quite plausible to assume that a fulfillment of it likely exists as well (compare hunger, sex drive, thirst, desire to be loved by other humans). Virtually everything else which almost everyone desires can be found in reality. We don’t deny the existence of the fulfillment and desired object because it is desired. That would be silly and foolish. Likewise, with the almost universal human religious sense and yearning.

I can state pretty confidently that everyone would desire a life that was absolutely, 100% terrific all the time, but you think the fulfillment of that is unspeakably absurd…! The truth is that our desires — whether universal or not — are sometimes fulfilled, and sometimes not. And they generally are fulfilled by our own efforts, not just landed in our laps. In other words, are desires are generally fulfilled because we take an active hand in things, not because reality in itself somehow feels obligated to provide them to us.

Of course, this presupposes that one finds value in the search for truth. (That isn’t meant in a snide way, by the way — I’m not implying that anyone who values truth must conclude there is no purpose to the universe. I’m just, again, trying to show you how things can look from an atheistic perspective).

Fair enough. You are very courteous and respectful of other views, and I always appreciate that. I hope I have been to your view, too. Just because I think it has bad logical implications, doesn’t mean that I think atheists are therefore “bad” people.

Thanks, and no, I didn’t think you thought that.

All atheistic philosophy implies is that there is no God. How can you say that, just because you find meaning in God and think anything “less” would be terrible, that nobody can? This is not an issue of “consistent implications”. This is a matter of trying to understand how you, or other apologists in this vein, can think only your worldview could be sufficient for anyone.

It’s no different than atheists thinking their worldview is the only sensible one, and others far inferior. I don’t see that there is any difference here. All you are complaining about is the self-evident observation that all people believe their own views and try to persuade others of them. Big wow. I guess to really get to the bottom of this, I will have to ask my respondents to not refer to Christianity at all. Pretend it is a lie, that it doesn’t exist.

Just defend and explain your own view, as to purpose and morality. Now you seem to want to bring it all back to Christianity again, which is the usual course in these discussions (what few of them I have managed to participate in). Forget Christianity; this is a critique of your view. We can “do” Christianity later, if you wish.

Maybe you have a psychological motive to believe in God, then. This hardly means everyone does.

I certainly do, because my soul (the root of “psychology” — Greek, psuche) was created to be in union with God. Of course the person who denies that has to explain from whence the need arises, and the “psychological crutch” explanation has a long and noble history. I didn’t think it would take too long for it to make its appearance here. :-)

“Why be good” is the issue with which metaethics is concerned. There is no one easy answer. A book I’d recommend here is the textbook from my metaethics course:

Moral Discourse & Practice: Some Philosophical Approaches, eds. Stephen Darwall, Allan Gibbard, and Peter Railton. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997.

Thanks.

Atheists in general don’t necessarily think this [that other views are much inferior]. I’m certainly not claiming that the Christian worldview is insensible or inferior in the sense of giving people hope and meaning. (Maybe I was insufficiently clear before: my talking about such-and-such being more enigmatic, or superior, was just a description of how I see it. It wasn’t a claim that others are somehow lacking in placing value elsewhere). I think Christianity can certainly serve as an account of meaning, and that it can give people hope.

And of course we both agree, I think, that any number of false views can do that, too.

Absolutely.

Of course we all believe in our own views, and try to persuade others. The point I was trying to make is that I think you’re asking me for something that I can’t even theoretically provide. Maybe (as I speculate below) you do need an afterlife in order for life to be sufficiently meaningful and valuable. This isn’t a claim about psychological crutches, or anything; I’m just granting that maybe the necessity you see in the Christian worldview really is a description of something that you need. But imagine for a moment that I don’t need this. How would I go about demonstrating this to you?

By analyzing all the sad implications of the lack of same. If you can truly ponder all that and not be affected by it, then I would say that subjectively you don’t seem to need it.

I can certainly say that the lack of some implications of theism are sad. Here’s an arbitrary example: it would be great if there were an omniscient God, because then we could ask him if there was life on other planets. But just because it is unfortunate that we don’t have this doesn’t mean that we need to have it. Again, the whole flying-humans example… it’s sad indeed that we have to walk around like a bunch of chumps, but this is no reason to go crazy.

I continue to think that objectively all people have a need for personal existence to go on after this life, even if they have convinced themselves subjectively that this is not so. I conclude that not only as a result of Christian belief, but by the human experience itself, considered as a whole.

It’s your prerogative to think so, but it’s really not the sort of claim you could theoretically back up. (At least, not in any way that I can see).

But I agree that when all is said and done, the Christian believes there is a certain sort of God, and this affects everything else, and the atheist says there is no such God, and that affects everything in their view. If there is a God and He implanted certain aspirations, needs, wants, purposes, etc. in human beings, then that would apply to everyone, regardless of what they believe. If there isn’t a God, then all of this I refer to really is just a groundless wish and perhaps projection or a crutch (all the usual atheist charges).

If God doesn’t exist, then any wants which require theism are indeed groundless. But then, not every need, want, etc. which people have requires God.

All I can really do, ultimately, is describe what I believe about the universe factually, and then say that such and such facts have value for me. Of course this will seem insufficient for you… but what can I do about that? It is, as you say, like trying to argue about what flavours of ice cream are best.

That’s if you regard this as merely a subjective question. I do not (obviously).

Clearly not. It’s hard to make sense of “objective meaning”, though. I’m sure you don’t think meaning is objective in the sense that it exists as a property of objects, events, etc. So I guess you mean it in something similar to how morality is objective. But here, of course, it again comes down to the issue of the internal criterion.

The problem here is that atheism really implies only the denial of theism, so in trying to see whether atheism reduces to absurdity/hopelessness the natural way to proceed is to see whether it denies something that is necessary for non-absurdity/hopefulness. As for my own view, I hope I’ve described it enough for you to get a general idea; I’ve given an account of the sorts of things I find hopeful and meaningful, and how I can make sense of the universe as an interesting place without a deity.

Is there any positive aspect of atheism, beyond what it is not? Is that where humanism comes in? Is that considered a positive expression of a non-theistic worldview?

There is no positive aspect of atheism itself, no. Humanism is a worldview which includes atheism, not something implied by atheism.

I was not armchair-psychoanalyzing you and saying you only believe in God because you psychologically need to. The thing is, the issue here as you’ve framed it is an essentially psychological one: “how can atheists find things sufficiently hopeful, etc. without God?” This is an issue of psychological necessity. So, my point is just that maybe you wouldn’t find things sufficiently hopeful without God, but this alone doesn’t imply that nobody can.

Okay.

For the record, I don’t approve of the tactic of reducing alternative worldviews to mere psychology. This isn’t because it is always necessarily untrue — there may well be lots of things we all believe for no good reason other than psychological motive — but because it’s not a verifiable or falsifiable sort of claim, and adds nothing of value to any issue.

I agree 100%. Glad to hear this. When I do that I am usually “turning the tables” after having it done to me. I do think the will, however, plays a major role in the beliefs of everyone (or in what they refuse to believe, for non-rational reasons). If that is “psychological analysis,” then I guess I am guilty of it, too.

The will certainly plays a part, I don’t think anyone denies that (though the extent of this is debated — for example, I think most philosophers hold that it is impossible to just will yourself to believe something).

What I was trying to get at was just the subjective component of normative ethics — i.e., the notion that they are normative for us. The point that I was trying to make was that this is a problem for all ethical theories, including DCT. From where does the internal normativity derive?

I agree that there are complexities and deep issues for all views. As I freely admitted when I joined this list, I am fully aware that I am not as philosophically trained as many of you are (with Ted [Drange] even being a professor of philosophy).

As for me, I’m merely in the last semester of a BA. In any case, don’t worry about lack of formal training in philosophy. I don’t think anyone here is a PhD in any scientific area, yet we all feel free to discuss science, for example.

Interestingly, your answer above gives a potential solution to this: it derives from the internal desire to avoid hell.

Well, that would be a purely negative criterion. Far better is the positive goal of being in union with God.

Fair enough!

But notice that this now becomes similar in form to, say, contractualism (as explained earlier in this post). Of course, I’m not sure how interested you are in discussing theory.

Only insofar as it is interesting. LOL

Atheism does not have a single, unified answer to give you here; rather, there are many potential answers, and lots of rousing discussion about which are best. (This is not to suggest that all metaethicists are atheists. But metaethics, at least in its contemporary form, is at any rate non theistic — it does not rely on or center around God.)

Interesting. Looks like partially what I am looking for.

Also, you should note that your account isn’t particularly compelling.

I didn’t make an argument for it. I simply stated it.

Why is “because it was the reason I was created” and “to be unified with God” internally normative for all humans?

It would only be if in fact it were true.

Suppose I believe both of those things, but don’t care.

Then that is what hell is all about. You wanna live apart from God? God says, “okay, here is your key to the darkness outside of Me. It is your choice.”

Thanks for the great dialogue. The more I read from you and others on this, the more I can understand about atheism. I appreciate the opportunity.

Yes, it’s quite interesting; I only hope I’m doing atheism justice. (I certainly am, if sheer verbosity is any indication! This post has attained mammoth proportions).

LOL I have enjoyed this very much. It seems like we both feel that we have made our best points. I hope, then, to make this into a dialogue for my site, which can be an educational tool and food for thought for those on both sides of the issue.

By all means, feel free to post it on your site.

I don’t personally feel I’m in much of a position to offer an Archimedean Point (Bernard Williams’ shorthand for “a point to convince nihilists they ought to be moral”) myself, simply because I’m still so divided as to the best way to construe objectively normative morality. If what you mean to ask is whether atheists could potentially offer such a point, I’d say the answer is yes — or, at any rate, that it is no more or less difficult for atheists to do this than theists.

Fair enough. I hope you can flesh that out as we proceed. Perhaps we will stimulate each other’s thinking.

It’s a little difficult to see what it is that apologists mean when they say “failing God, the standard becomes a merely human one”. Maybe I should explain in a little more detail.

The question of morality comes down, at basis, to what Williams calls Socrates’ Question: “how should I live?” That is, the question about whether there is objective morality is just the question about whether there is some way that I objectively ought to live/act; some sort of behavioural imperative that is really binding on me.

Good.

The most basic question to be answered here is, under what conditions would something objectively bind me? There are two general sorts of conditions: internal and external. Internal conditions are, essentially, personal subjective desires and sentiments (e.g., the desire to seek pleasure, or the sentiment of sympathy in Hume); external conditions are things like rationality and truth, which are thought to be binding on us despite subjective desires.

Now, both internal and external conditions seem, prima facie at least, to have a role to play. Internal conditions, in some sense, are necessary for morality, because the vital thing about morality is that it must be normative for us; external conditions, on the other hand, seem to supply the criteria by which morality becomes universal. To see this, suppose I were to say that (a la Kant) it were rationally necessary for all agents to form behavioural maxims based on the categorical imperative. This supplies an external condition. But the question the skeptic can now ask is, “well, why should I care about what is rationally necessary?”

Indeed.

This question is unanswerable if all we can say is that it is rationally necessary. We must also, it seems, provide some internal condition: some reason why everyone must care about morality. (Just to give due deference to Kant, he does address this question — e.g., in the last section of the Groundwork of Metaphysics of Morals.)

But he also ultimately grounds morality in God, doesn’t he? I know he made the moral argument for God.

As I recall, he mentions God near the end of the Groundwork (I don’t have a copy with me, though, so I can’t really give you any quotes). I believe he used God, and possibly immortality, as a way of satisfying the internal criterion… i.e., by saying that the existence of God would ensure that moral virtue would be associated with happiness (and thus morality would be internally desirable, as well as transcendentally necessary). This is just working from memory, however. What I can tell you for certain is this: if morality is ultimately grounded on any one thing in Kant, it is freedom — or rather, the feeling-as-though-one-were-free.

I don’t think Kant ever actually made a moral argument for God. This argument didn’t come into being, as far as I know, until the presuppositionalists formulated it as “the Transcendental Argument for God.”

Interesting.

In other words, objective morality must indeed be objective, but it must also meet a subjective criterion. It is not enough to say “X is simply the way you ought to act, because this is a fact of the universe… period”. We must also give some reason why this imperative has normative force for us.

Yes, all good so far.

The relevance of all the above is just this: there is always a “merely human” standard involved in morality. If a system of morality does not in some sense derive its normativity from something internal to subjects, then it has no normative force for subjects. Differently put, if all a system of morality does is offer external conditions which people may or may not care about, then this system cannot hope to offer an Archimedean Point.

Clearer than mud? :)

No, I think you have expressed this well. The Christian equivalent would, of course, be the conscience, which we feel is the inherent/intuitive moral sense put into us by God (in turn particularized by Christian teaching, itself based on revelation but also – logically prior to that – natural law). We have problems seeing how such an internal “urging” or consciousness can be objective or binding upon all equally without God to give it that objective basis and ontological reality. Why and how does it even exist at all (?), would be my question. I don’t see this in the animals . . .

It’s not clear what you mean when you say that God gives these sentiments “objective basis and ontological reality.”

They are true as moral absolutes, and there is a standard by which to judge differing human interpretations.

The issue of whether there is an internal imperative towards moral action is simply a matter of whether or not they exist in all agents qua agents; where they come from doesn’t affect their internal normativity.

But it has an effect on the relativism that would inevitably result in their absence. The more relativism there is, the more difficulty in achieving an ethics which applies to everyone equally.

Anyhow, the problem with the supposed superiority of theistic ethics comes with trying to understand its nature as an ethical system with all this in mind. Divine Command Theory is clearly something like an externalist theory of morality, in that it finds in the nature of God something external to human desires which gives a universal and objective ground for morality. But the point is that this cannot be the end of the story.

Suppose we were to grant that goodness is grounded in the nature of God. Where, then, does it become normative for agents? Where is the internal criterion?

Conscience and the internal sense most of us have for right and wrong.

Fair enough, I suppose, but there is of course a prima facie problem with this (as there is, in my opinion, for Hume’s sentimentalism if we construe it as a prescriptive rather than descriptive theory). That is: obviously people do not always obey this particular internal sense; it is not truly internal in the sense that people always desire it (since, if it were, nobody would ever violate it).

They feel certain things are wrong internally, but lack the power, resolve, or will to act rightly.

Why, then, should people obey their consciences? What if other desires are stronger?

The Christian answer is that the conscience is the internal, subjective agent of the external, objective natural law, grounded in God. But as to particulars, the Catholic says that the conscience must be formed with due regard for Church teaching. Consciences can be warped or corrupted.

The theist may say that we are all merely God’s creations, that God’s word simply goes because he is God, or what have you, but these are still merely external conditions.

They are external, but verified by our internal sense as well, whereas the virtual anthropological and cultural universality of these sentiments and feelings seems to me unaccountable under the atheist hypothesis. We’re not saying that bringing in God to explain the moral sense is another airtight “proof,” but rather, that positing God as the originator of these moral instincts is at least some sort of objective criteria and First Cause, if you will.

So, either DCT satisfies the internal criterion or it does not. Let’s suppose it doesn’t. In this case, DCT simply doesn’t provide objective morality at all. It provides no reason why morality is objectively normative for agents. The imperatives resulting from DCT have no necessary imperative force for agents, because they do not appeal to any imperative force in agents.

Well, I deny this.

On the other hand, let’s suppose it does. (Indeed, I think you’d agree that it does, because you seem to think that the moral sentiment is implanted in all humans — i.e., that in some sense, we all just do have an internal desire to be moral.) Then DCT, like the nontheistic ethics being criticized, appeals to an internal, subjective human standard. What, then, is the basis for criticism?

Simply that the internal sense cannot be (logically speaking) objective or universally applicable without God to “grant” it that status, as the originator of it. Otherwise, morality becomes a matter of majority vote.

Remember, all it means for morality to be objective is for it to be universally normative; it must be what everyone ought to do. If morality then derives from something in the nature of humans, it satisfies this standard. Where is the logical problem you allude to?

This “internal sense” will inevitably result in differing opinions, thus undercutting the “universally normative” status of the ethics. How do we resolve that?

Suppose it is the case that all humans qua humans possess desire/sentiment X.

But one cannot suppose this, because there are good and bad people (judging by their actions).

Further suppose that, as a matter of instrumental rationality (i.e., means-ends reasoning) the best way to achieve X is with a certain behavioural code. (This is the basic metaethical form of contractualism).

That will vary as well. One can’t reasonably suppose things which are virtually impossible in reality.

Granting those suppositions, what is lacking here?

But they can’t be granted, it seems to me. They are manifestly false. Because humans never come to agreement, a higher code is needed, to which all human beings are subject.

That is, what further is needed in order to say that all humans ought to follow that behavioural code? Why must we further suppose that X was implanted by God in order for this theory to work?

Because your premises are impossible to attain.

Now, all of the above may seem hopelessly theoretical. (It’s surely at least hopelessly pedantic — assuming for moment that I’ve actually managed to get it all right. :) But the general point is quite relevant, however practically you might want to construe the issue: morality must appeal to human standards.

We don’t oppose humanity or humanism to God. Quite the contrary; we say our very humanness is precisely because we are made in the image of God. In other words, “humanness” is a function of creation and the mind of God. So the human and subjective is every bit a part of Christianity as it is in humanism, but always construed as part and parcel of God’s image within us, which also gives us the non-negotiable idea of the sacredness, or sanctity of life.

If we were to suppose that that made morality arbitrary or relativistic, then we would be committed to nihilism; DCT itself would be impossible.

The whole point is that either there is an ontological reality of man being a creation of God and thus bearing the identifying marks of that origin, or there is not. So it isn’t a question of human vs. “pie-in-the-sky deity” but of created human vs. materialistically-evolved human (the latter posing a problem of both value and meaning, in my opinion). In the present discussion I am trying to discover the atheist equivalent (in terms of morality and ethics) of the fundamental role that God plays in Christian ethics. You have to come up with something, if you construe morality as “objective,” as you have said you do.

Maybe you mean, “what is the external criterion in nontheistic ethics”?

Yes.

I.e., the thing that gives these theories their universality? Here the best answer is probably just rationality. If it is practically rational (i.e., instrumentally rational, prudent, etc.) to be moral, then this is why we objectively ought to be moral. We ought to be moral, in short, because this is the necessary consequence of what we desire. (Or, as in Kant, because it is the precondition of practical reason itself).

This is far too abstract. It doesn’t account for the evil person whose reflection amounts only to a ruthless, Machiavellian calculation as to how he can get ahead, irregardless of how many others suffer in the process. If your “standard” is rationality and a sort of abstract utilitarian outlook, then it breaks down when we get to the quintessential evil, selfish person.

It’s not that there is an “atheistic absolutism” per se, in the sense that there is one authoritative notion of morality for atheism (as there is for theism, in DCT). It’s rather that there are many moral theories which do not require a God, and these seem on the main to be at least as coherent as DCT.

Then how does one choose between them, and how is the chosen one applied to society at large?

One chooses between them much in the same way that one chooses among any set of philosophical positions: by seeing which appears to be the most internally coherent and justifiable. Mode of application usually isn’t directly relevant to discussions at the theoretical level, except insofar as some theories may be completely impracticable — for example, a theory which required everyone to commit huge acts of self-sacrifice might be deemed far too stringent to really apply to human life. Mode of application tends to be an implication of whatever theory is in question, and also depends on other questions (e.g., whether this theory would be consistent with a distinction between morality and law).

So if people differ on what is “most internally coherent and justifiable” we are back to square one again. There is no way out of this.

Now, I can’t give you a knockdown proof for any one such theory — or at least not a sincere one, since I’m very much divided on the matter myself. Instead, I’ll lay out one theory as a “what if”. Your response to it may, at any rate, serve to clarify the nature of your criticism.

Yes; thanks. This is good dialogue. I appreciate your honesty and self-reflection.

Suppose it is true that no human being wants to live in a state of nature; such a life would be nasty, brutish, and short, and no human being ever did or would desire that for him or herself. Suppose further that the only, or at least vastly better, way to avoid this state is to form societies, where people pool their efforts to stave off nasty old nature. Morality for the individual, then, consists in obeying a figurative contract between himself and society: the individual will do nothing to harm society (and thus not hurt others, steal, cheat, etc.) in return for which society will keep the state of nature at bay (thus satisfying the individual’s desires).

Given those two factual suppositions, how is this moral theory arbitrary, relativistic, etc.? It would be objectively normative, in the sense that all humans would be practically irrational in disobeying it. It is not, then, a subjectivist theory. So why is it necessarily inferior to DCT?

Because utilitarian ethics eventually break down.

My example above actually isn’t utilitarianism, but rather a loose example of contractualism (sometimes also called Social Contract Theory). So, the Geisler quotes below aren’t relevant.

Classically, contractualism is associated with Hobbes and Rousseau, and utilitarianism with Bentham and Mill. The basic difference is that utilitarianism (i.e., classical, or “act”-utilitarianism) is concerned with increasing the overall level of happiness for all sentient beings. Contractualism, on the other hand, is more egoistic: here the appeal is to one’s own desire to avoid the state of nature (i.e., a state of “every man for himself”). There is no duty in contractualism to maximize happiness for others; rather, it is taken as rational to uphold the interests of others as a way of securing one’s own interests.

Well, then that is immediately suspect as an unworthy theory; basically undercutting the promotion and practice of love as many people undserstand that term (especially in the self-sacrificial Christian sense).

Having said that, I’ll do my best to reply to Geisler below; he does raise some of the classical difficulties of the theory, but I don’t think he’s giving utilitarianism due credit.

Protestant apologist Norman Geisler explains [his words are indented henceforth]:

Our duty [in utilitarianism] is to maximize good for the most people over the long run. Of course, the actions that may produce this result for most people at the moment will not necessarily be best for all persons nor for all times. In this sense utilitarianism is relativistic. Some utilitarians frankly admit that there may come a time when it would no longer be best to preserve life. That is, conditions may be such for some (or all) that it would be better not to live. In this case the greatest good would be to promote death.

This is a possible consequence, all right; but Geisler is incorrect in saying that utilitarianism is “relativistic”. Rather, it is consequentialist: the moral value of actions is a function of their real-world consequences for maximizing happiness and minimizing suffering. The moral value of any action is therefore objective — i.e., if an action increases suffering and decreases happiness, then it is wrong (on this theory) regardless of what anyone thinks.

Then abortion would clearly be wrong, but of course most of this view will disagree. They merely deny the suffering or deny humanity to the preborn human child.

The first problem with strict utilitarian relativism is that even it takes some things as universally true; for example, one should always act as to maximize good.

I’m not sure why Geisler phrases it this way. The whole point of utilitarianism is that one should always act to maximize good (i.e., happiness). The way he says it, it sounds like this is some sort of grudging concession…! The problem here is probably just that he has mischaracterized it as “relativism”, hence his surprise at discovering it isn’t relativistic. :)

Second, utilitarian relativism implies that the end can justify any means. What if a supposed good end, say, genetically purifying the race, demanded that we sterilize (or even kill) all ‘impure’ genetic stock? Would this end justify the means of mercy-killing or forced sterilization? Surely not.

This is the classic response to utilitarianism, and the utilitarian has at least three possible ways of replying to it. The first is to simply deny that things like eugenics really do maximize happiness — it’s theoretically possible that things like this could do so, but they simply don’t in the real world.

But the way that the ethics of human life has gone in the 20th century, that hasn’t happened, has it? There were or are large-scale social experiments in which the “human gods” decide who lives or dies based on some external criterion of worth or social progress.

The second is to say, more or less, “so what?” That is, if eugenics really did maximize happiness, then it would be good in the utilitarian theory;

As in the abortion mentality these days . . .

simply saying “but eugenics is not good” begs the question as a refutation. On what basis does Geisler justify “surely not”?

Well, that gets back to natural law, and the general internal sense human beings have that certain things are right and wrong. It is an axiom, granted.

Consider a parallel argument: “DCT requires that, if God commanded us to kill our own children, killing our own children would be justified. Is it justified to kill children? Surely not!”

One must recognize their own inevitable axioms on both sides, to be sure.

The third possibility comes with a modern reworking of the theory, known as rule-utilitarianism. The idea of this theory is to remove the focus from consequences of actions, and instead place moral value on types of actions which generally tend to produce happiness and minimize suffering. On this view, eugenics would be wrong, because this is not the sort of action which generally tends to do that.

Good, but still we need to know on what basis this judgment is made in the first place.

Finally, results alone – even desired results – do not make something good. Sometimes what we desire is wrong. When the results are in, they must still be measured by some standard beyond them in order to know whether or not they are good. (Options in Contemporary Christian Ethics, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Book House, 1981, 15-16)

This is pretty flagrantly question-begging. Saying that “results alone . . . do not make something good” is nothing less than a sweeping denial of consequentialism. As for the bit about “desires”, the utilitarian will of course agree that some desires are wrong (i.e., to carry them out would be wrong). The desire to commit mass-murder would be wrong, for example, because this serves to increase the overall balance of suffering over happiness.

Elsewhere he writes:

There is a distinct difference between a general norm, which, for practical reasons one ought always to obey, and a truly universal norm which is always intrinsically right to follow . . . There are always unspecifiable exceptions or else cases which are not covered by the rule . . . the rule itself is nor essentially unbreakable.

As far as objective morality is concerned, this seems to be a distinction without a difference. The only point of objective morality is that it be objectively normative — i.e., objective for all. Moreover, it’s not clear what is meant here by a “universal” norm; what would it mean for something to be “intrinsically” right to follow, quite apart from practical reason? That is, why should anyone obey such a norm, if not on the basis of its being practically rational?

That’s where God comes in, of course. Ultimately, in the Christian view, right and wrong is not based on “practical considerations” (even though what I call a “reverse pragmatic argument” can be constructed). Things are right and wrong regardless of consequences, and regardless of how few people believe them to be otherwise.

. . . The best a generalist can offer is a set of general norms which neither cover all cases nor are non-conflicting and for which, in order for them to be effective, one must have some other means of applying them in specific and often crucial cases . . .

I don’t know what Geisler is trying to say here about utilitarianism specifically. It sounds like he’s criticizing the notion of “general norms” of behaviour… but that would be a criticism of objective morality in general.

The attempt to save a life, e.g., is not an intrinsically valuable act. It has value only if the person is actually saved or if some other good comes from the futile attempt . . .Thus the utilitarian position reduces the ethical value of acts to the fates and fortunes of life. All is well that ends well. And what ends well is good. This would mean that the intentions of one’s actions have no essential connection with the good of those actions. (Ethics: Alternatives and Issues, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 1971, 58-59)

This is true, as far as it goes. It is a consequence of classical utilitarianism that value is placed on real-world consequences, not good intentions. Suppose I throw a drowning man a life preserver, but accidentally aim a little too well, and instead knock him unconscious with it… whereupon he sinks like a stone. The action was objectively wrong, though my intention was to do good.

This is not such a terrible consequence, however, since a utilitarian may consistently say that a person is not morally culpable for unintentional wrongs. The actions are still wrong, of course, but this doesn’t imply (because of lack of intent) that the person himself is of defective character.

The latter would be consistent with Christian ethics.

Inconsistency points are great; but I should note for the record that I see little use in “historical examples”.

Duly noted. But aren’t all ethical systems “proven” by how they operate in history, just as our individual character is demonstrated by our actions?

Atheism isn’t an ethical system, however. Atheism is consistent with subjectivism and nihilism (as is theism, for that matter).

Okay, fair enough.

My point above was just with reference to the lack of ultimate justice (apparently we agree on this much).

But as to your more general point: I don’t really see the prima facie reduction of atheism to nihilism that needs to be avoided.

We’ll see, I guess. This is turning out to be a dialogue of epic proportions. :-)

If all this life were was a horrible pit of existential despair, to be redeemed only by God’s justice in the afterlife, then this life wouldn’t be infinitely valuable, and pie-in-the-sky would be justified, wouldn’t it?

Yes, if atheism were in fact true, and people made wishes for things that can never happen. Then the question would be, why do they do that? From whence comes the sense that the world ought to be much better than it is?

I’m not sure what you’re saying here. My point is that you seem to be simultaneously holding that this life would be unlivable without the
afterlife, and that this life is quite valuable without being “pie-in-the-sky-eyed”. These points seem to contradict one another. Either this life is valuable in itself, and thus pie-in-the-sky is unjustified; or it is not, and thus pie-in-the-sky would be justified.

There is no contradiction because these are entirely different propositions, which can both be asserted (and are, by the Christian):

1. Life without an afterlife (i.e., life under atheist assumptions) would be deprived of much of its meaning, purpose and fulfillment, as the prospect of eventual annihilation lends itself to a certain futility and hopelessness, if truly thought through and pondered, in all its implications.

Okay, so “life would be worthless but for the afterlife”.

2. Under Christian assumptions, this present life is full of meaning and value, because everyone’s existence will continue forever (and because ultimate justice is able to be achieved, thus making sense of much suffering). What we “build” here is continued in heaven – provided we fulfill the requirements to get there. It does not follow, however (either logically or theologically), that this earthly life is worthless because it pales in comparison with the heavenly afterlife. “Pie-in-the-sky” is as fundamentally a non-Christian position as is atheist annihilationism.

Here, “life is worthwhile because of the afterlife”.

“Pie-in-the-sky” (as I understand its common usage) is not simply the Christian view of heaven, but rather, the silly notion that because there is a heaven, that this life is a worthless “prelude” to that, for which we alone exist. So my comparison does not contradict because it is comparing:

1. Only heaven is worthwhile to live for.

and:

2. There is no heaven at all.

The Christian denies both propositions, of course, and there is no logical conflict between them.

Right, this is basically how I’m using it too. But this seems to me to be exactly what is implied by the above. If life has worth because of the afterlife and life would have no worth without the afterlife, then life itself — on its own terms, not in terms of the afterlife — is indeed a merely worthless prelude. That is, it would be meaningful to “build” here only because an afterlife is hoped for which these efforts will affect; it would be meaningful to act a certain way here only because we hope to get into the afterlife’s plusher accommodations; etc .Pie in the sky: The good time or good things promise which never come; that which will never be realized. (Brewer’s Concise Dictionary of Phrase and Fable)

Naturally, the question of whether heaven will “never come” is arguable. But you can see how, for the atheist, the Christian position as you’ve described it is pie-in-the-sky. All things in this life are deemed valuable only because of the afterlife one hopes for.

Alternatively, if this life is valuable in itself, such that it’s value doesn’t merely coming in hoping for another, then this life has value even if there isn’t another…

Ah, but we say it is valuable precisely because there is a God who creates the worth and value and meaning, and “makes all things right in the end,” and gives us our hopes, dreams, and aspirations, because we are made in His image. What gives life so much value and meaning, according to the atheist?

We give life value and meaning — or, rather, we find it in life. How can we do this? Well, simply because all it means for life to be valuable or meaningful is for it to be worthwhile for us.

This is precisely the relativism and radical subjectivism which appears to me to contradict your claim of objective atheist morality, because what we consider valuable and meaningful will intersect with your morality. Hitler’s genocide was meaningful and moral for him, etc.

Hitler’s genocide may have been meaningful for him, but it was not moral for him — because morality, unlike meaning, is an objective matter. It is possible that committing genocide was so fulfilling for Hitler that it got him out of bed in the morning, prevented existential despair, etc. This in no way implies that this particular desire, or its achievement, was moral! Subjectivism regarding personal fulfillment and meaning does not imply moral subjectivism — unless, of course, we hold that there are no personal goals that are common to all people. But I certainly wasn’t claiming the latter.

Most atheists don’t apply this great inherent “meaning and worth” to the preborn child, do they? They are willing to deprive it of the only life it will ever have, almost before it even begins. That’s why I say abortion is the morally absurd outcome of humanism.

This has nothing to do with the issue of whether life is meaningful or worth living for the individual. As an argument, it’s also a non sequitur.

You might be interested, though, in a thread I started some months back: I argued in that thread that free will is not a sufficient condition for the existence of evil, and consequently that free will alone does not account for the existence of evil/rebellion/sin. We can get into that some other time, if you like.

Yes, sounds quite interesting.

The general idea I get from free-will theodicists is that free will is simply necessary in order for human action to be meaningful, since otherwise all human action would be is God himself acting… God can’t meaningful punish or reward what are, ultimately, his own actions. It is just an unfortunate byproduct of this free will that some humans choose to be evil. Is that more or less your position, too?

Yes. I am a Molinist, if you are familiar with the (Catholic) theological categories with regard to predestination and free will (its basically similar to Arminian).

A need for purpose is probably indeed a vital part of any human. But again, the thing to note here is that the vital aspect of it is that it be a purpose for the individual human. I don’t see any valid way of reasoning from this to the idea that reality itself has a purpose for us.

That gets back to the moral quandaries I posed, about (the ubiquitous) Hitler, McVeigh et al. That’s where I think the big problem comes in, because purpose, like morality, can be used to justify the most horrific ends and goals.

Yet again, we have to keep the issues of hope/meaning and morality separate. If McVeigh found hope and meaning in blowing up a building, then that indeed served as something that allowed him to get out of bed in the morning. This is not at all to say that it was moral! His action was objectively wrong, but nevertheless was (we can suppose) subjectively meaningful for him.

I’m not equipped to deal point-by-point with all the intricacies and scenarios of various philosophical ethical systems, and wouldn’t pretend to be. You can have the last word next time if you wish . . .

Unfortunately, the claim you make about atheist morality can’t really be taken seriously unless you’re willing to deal with moral philosophy in an intricate way. Please don’t take this as any kind of philosophical snobbery — it’s just a matter that the sort of claim your original article stated so confidently (that atheistic morality reduces to arbitrariness, etc.) is complex by its very nature. It’s impossible to get at the meat of this claim — assuming there is any, of course — without getting into the intricacies of metaethics.

Anyhow, this thread as I see it has essentially revolved around two theses from your original article:

– That atheistic morality is necessarily arbitrary, relativistic, and absurd.
– That atheists cannot consistently live as though life were worthwhile — hopeful, meaningful, etc.

Let’s get to each in turn.

The best sense I can make of your argument for the absurdity, etc. of atheistic morality is this:

1. Morality is not truly binding on us, or universally binding, unless it results from something higher than man.
2. In atheism, morality does not result from anything higher than man.
3. Therefore, in atheism, morality is not binding on us or non-relativistic.

Now, the major problem here is with (1). You have stated it — indeed, every apologist concerned with the argument from morality states it — as something like an obvious truth. However, once one looks at the basic nature of objective morality, it is unclear what it even means.

Holding to objective morality, as we will remember, is nothing more than holding the view that there are some behavioural imperatives which everyone ought to obey. But what does “ought” mean? Well, it means that something is practically rational; it is the sort of action that it is rational to perform. Why does it mean this? Simply because otherwise there is no sense in which we can say people commit an error by acting immorally. Practical reason is essentially means-ends reasoning; it is the sort of reasoning that guides our attempts to achieve our goals. (Actually, that is the definition of a subset of practical reason called instrumental reason; there is also, e.g., the principle of prudence. But we needn’t get into that here).

Now: what this implies about objective morality is that, ultimately, it must reduce to some goal which we want to achieve. Not a goal we should achieve, or a goal we should want to achieve; that puts the cart before the horse. Now, furthermore, it will presumably be some goal which all humans qua humans share. Obvious candidates here would be the goal of seeking pleasure, the goal of avoiding pain, the goal of avoiding death, or other goals related to basic, instinctive human sentiments. It has to be something all humans share, because otherwise the imperative which ultimately results from it will only apply to some humans, and therefore not be objective.

So, what does this have to do with (1)? A better way to put it is, what does (1) have to do with this? That is, where does something higher than man come into the equation here? Ultimately, objective morality is binding on us because of our own natures; and it derives its universality from that which is universal in us. If it doesn’t do this — if it instead derives its authority entirely from something else — then it has no normative force for us.

The only way to really make sense of (1), then, is as claiming that “it is impossible for there to be some universal human desire/sentiment X such that the achievement of X makes moral behaviour practically rational, unless there is a God”. This is a claim of substance, but it bears no resemblance to any apologetic argument for morality made so far. It is certainly not, moreover, a claim which is obvious or even mildly intuitive. I have no idea how someone would go about justifying it. I hope you do; otherwise, I don’t see that the argument can really hold water.

What I think is that the theistic argument from morality is actually based around a naive view of moral realism. On this view, objective moral values are like objective facts: they are true in a way that has nothing at all to do with humans… so, “murder is wrong” is true in the same way that “the earth orbits the sun” is. On this reasoning, (1) makes a certain kind of sense: if morality is truly objective, it must (like objective facts) exist outside of humans.

The naive view itself doesn’t make much sense. It’s not at all clear what it would mean to say that morality is true in this way, since this would ultimately mean saying that moral values exist. But how do they exist? What would it mean for a value to exist? Even more to the point, even if these values did exist, where would they acquire their normativity? If a value exists somewhere, or in some sense, why does this mean that we commit some sort of practical irrationality in failing to obey it?

Further, it’s not clear how God is necessary even on the naive view. If we hold that moral values can simply exist, why is a God required to make them? (An atheist need not deny the existence of externally-existing moral values, only the existence of God — so in this context premise 2 would not be true.) An argument here establishing God’s necessity would ultimately amount to “only God can make values”, but this would reduce to circularity.

That is, the only way it would make sense is if we say that God is, in some sense, the only being moral enough to make moral values; but since God himself would here be the origin of the values themselves, they cannot be meaningfully applied to him at all. This, of course, is simply the Euthyphro dilemma. It can be differently stated this way: even assuming (1) is true, how can God be described as “higher” than man in a non-circular way? “Higher” is must be at least in part a moral evaluation, but this has the cart before the horse again.

Hopefully that has been enough to cover all bases. If not — if there’s something significant from your posts that I missed here — then please let me know.

Now, on to the claim that atheism implies existential despair.

Your argument here has seemed to rest on two claims:

1. Life only has hope, meaning, etc. if it has that hope, meaning, etc. apart from our individual subjective hopes and desires.
2. Life would not be worth living even subjectively unless God were around to reward the good with heaven or punish the evil with hell.

I think the reasoning behind (1) has been essentially based around a failure to distinguish between objective moral value and assessments of value like “what is meaningful/hopeful” — at any rate, you seem to equate the two at several points. (For example, when I described the latter as examples of subjective value, you replied that I was therefore a moral subjectivist…!) The two, however, are not the same. Morality has to do with behavioural imperatives; meaning and hope have to do with whether or not we find our own lives worthwhile. (The two issues do intersect at some points, of course — for example, whether or not we find our lives worthwhile might have a bearing on whether or not suicide is moral.)

What does it mean for life to be meaningful, in the sense that we can avoid existential despair? It means, simply, that we find meaning in life. Now, it could be the case that meaning is objective, if there are some things that everyone simply does find meaningful — i.e., if some things are meaningful for us as a simple result of human nature. Whether or not that is the case, the standard here is located purely within humans. If we find something to be meaningful, then we don’t find our lives to be worthless, and therefore can and will continue living without going barking mad, growing goatees, or smoking clove cigarettes. Whether or not something other than ourselves has assigned meaning to life — whatever that itself would mean! — is entirely moot.

(2) is more relevant. This is basically stating that, if we don’t believe in God, we are in fact unable to find our lives worthwhile. Your argument here seems to be, basically, that the lack of an afterlife and the lack of ultimate retribution against evildoers must make anyone who thinks it through sink into existential despair.

The problem is that there is no way to go about proving or disproving this claim. I can tell you that there are things I find meaningful, and that these are enough for me; I can surmise that other atheists find sufficient meaning, too. But your claim is not that I currently am in a state of existential despair, but rather that I would be if I really thought things through sufficiently… and what can I do, except tell you that I’ve thought about these things a lot? Of course this answer doesn’t satisfy you… but what answer would? That is, assume it is true that I find enough meaning and hope in a universe without God… how, in theory, would I go about proving this to you?

The point of the whole Candide-theist example was simply to put you in my place as regards this sort of question. (It is not, as you have surmised, an attempt to switch the focus to Christianity; it is merely an example to help you understand why your claim about atheism doesn’t work.) The Candide-theist has a worldview we would both agree is wrong, and an example of naive pie-in-the-sky. Yet you cannot deny that this view, IF regarded as true, would solve a lot of existential problems; there would, for example, be no problem of evil, since there would be no evil. So what would you answer, if the Candide-theist said that your worldview, thought through consistently, would lead to existential despair? Wouldn’t you just have to say that you find enough meaning and hope in the world without having to believe that everything is terrific all the time? Wouldn’t you have to conclude that what seems psychologically necessary for the Candide-theist is quite unnecessary for you?

This is simply what atheists will conclude regarding your claim — at least, those that do in fact find life to be meaningful. Maybe it is psychologically necessary for you to believe in ultimate salvation/condemnation in order to avoid existential despair, but this is not the case for everyone. No atheist can prove this to you — there is no way to prove a psychological fact so subtle as “what is sufficient to give us hope” — but then, you couldn’t prove it to the Candide-theist, either. So, ultimately, (2) is a non-starter.

Clearly, this thread is far, far too broad and ambitious (which is my own fault, of course, because I started it). I can’t possibly keep this dialogue going, precisely because you raise so many (i.e., too many) worthwhile points. I think your insights are valuable, very much so, and I’ve learned a lot from reading your stuff. I agree with you that my critique necessarily raises many complex issues which must be dealt with in detail, involving various meta-ethical theories and so forth. But I don’t have the energy to do all that at the moment. It will be a task that will take some time and a great deal more learning on my part.

So I’ll let you have the last word. I would ask that we begin (as opportunity or motivation or inspiration arises) a new thread with the subject matter much more narrowed-down, where perhaps much more clarity of our two positions might be able to be achieved.

Sounds good. Let me know what issues you decide to focus on.

I want to express my heartfelt appreciation and respect for what you have done. This is true dialogue; I enjoyed it immensely and I have been enriched by it, and I think readers of my website will be, too, when I put it up. You answer everything comprehensively, with great substance, cogency, relevance, a refreshing economy of expression, understanding of opposing positions (avoiding straw men, which is a great blessing indeed :-), and with unfailing amiability. Thanks so much, and I look forward to much more dialogue with you (if you found this also worth your while, to throw some ideas back and forth with me).

You’d better quit praising me. I become quite insufferable when my self-esteem gets too high. :) Seriously, thanks.

*****

2017-08-31T02:35:14-04:00

(the Flip Side of the Problem of Evil Argument Against Christianity) + the Nature of Meaningfulness in Atheism

(vs. Mike Hardie)

Dialogue

Image by “geralt”. Uploaded on 6-6-15 [Pixabay / CC0 public domain]

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(6-5-01)

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New introduction (9-11-15):

I consider this the best dialogue I have ever been involved in (out of 700 or more), with anyone, ever. My opponent did an excellent job and really gave me a run for my money. I offered him gushing, grateful praise at the end:

I want to express my heartfelt appreciation and respect for what you have done. This is true dialogue; I enjoyed it immensely and I have been enriched by it, and I think readers of my website will be, too, when I put it up. You answer everything comprehensively, with great substance, cogency, relevance, a refreshing economy of expression, understanding of opposing positions (avoiding straw men, which is a great blessing indeed :-), and with unfailing amiability. Thanks so much, and I look forward to much more dialogue with you (if you found this also worth your while, to throw some ideas back and forth with me).

This puts the lie to the myths (from the hostile, demeaning sorts of atheists) that I supposedly 1) don’t dialogue with atheists, or 2) always have unpleasant relations with them. This dialogue was the very model (the quintessence) of what I have always sought to achieve ever since, and will continue to seek, in any dialogue I get involved in. On occasion I can get close to it, but it has never been matched (over more than 13 years) as a genuine, mutually respectful (hence very constructive) dialogue: all the more remarkable because it was between a Catholic and an atheist.

don’t know what became of Mike Hardie. I found a brief (archived) biography on The Secular Web (infidels.org) and an “About Me” with photo from an old website (1998), along with a list of several of his philosophical papers: including one on “The Problem of Evil”. He is a philosophy major and was 24 years old at the time of our dialogue (obviously an extremely bright student). I lost contact with him shortly after this dialogue and have never heard from him since. I can find nothing about him beyond the late 90s time period. He seems to have fallen off the face of the earth (Internet-wise, anyway). How many good dialogues we might have been able to have! The search continues for someone of his very high intellectual (and civil) calibre.

Enjoy!

*****

[Mike Hardie’s words will be in blue]

I think the “problem of good” is a far more troublesome difficulty than the problem of evil (even granting that the latter is a very serious and substantive objection, one concerning which even most Christians often struggle in some sense or other: mostly due to lack of understanding, rather than a disproof of God’s existence; and especially when we ourselves go through some suffering :-).

I hope you will be more willing to pursue in depth the logical and moral implications of your position (as I view them, anyway), than has been my experience with atheists (and also moral relativists) in the past. Usually, the opponent of Christianity is quite willing to critique what they feel to be our glaring deficiencies, but quite unwilling (for some strange reason) to examine what we regard as the shortcomings in theirs. People in all worldviews seem to be much better at levying charges and poking holes, than at scrutinizing their own beliefs, wouldn’t you agree? Just human nature, I would argue.

In an earlier paper which Mike cited, to start this discussion going, I stated that:

The atheist:

1) Can’t really consistently define “evil” in the first place;

2) Has no hope of eventual eschatological justice;

3) Has no objective basis of condemning evil;

4) Has no belief in a heaven of everlasting bliss;

5) Has to believe in an ultimately absolutely hopeless and meaningless universe.

This is arguably one of the most common kinds of popular replies to atheism, and I have never seen a really robust attempt to really explain it, much less justify it.

Good; nor have I seen a robust attempt by an atheist (at least those I have come across), to grapple seriously with the objections. There are plenty of Christian apologetic works which make a similar case vis-a-vis atheism. You obviously haven’t looked very hard. That’s okay; I haven’t looked very hard at all that many atheist works, either. I would love to read all the books in the world, but I have to be selective, unfortunately.

To put my objections to it in a nutshell:

(1) and (3) come down to “atheists cannot have objective morality”, when there are a multitude of non-theistic ethical theories — i.e., theories which do not require God — which seem to be at least as coherent as theistic ethics (i.e., Divine Command Theory or Natural Law Theory).

What is it that rules out these non-theistic ethics in one fell swoop? Let us be clear here: we are not talking about scientific materialism versus theistic ethics, but merely non-theistic versus theistic ethics. (Scientific materialism is often characterized as the view where nothing is meaningful unless it can be reduced to a purely empirical theory of some kind, and it seems pretty obvious to me that this view would have no relevant account of objective morality. But obviously, not all atheists are scientific materialists in this sense.)

What I was implying (and I again thank you for the chance to flesh out and clarify) was that according to the atheist’s presuppositions, taken to their ultimate logical (and above all, practical, in concrete, real-world, human terms) consequences, cannot be carried through in a non-arbitrary manner, and will always end up incoherent and morally objectionable. All attempts that I have seen (admittedly I may very well have missed many) have not adequately explained how to overcome this inherent moral relativism, whereby some man (often, in real life, a dictator) “determines” what is right and wrong, imposes it on a populace, group, or family, and people try to live by it happily ever after.

Simply put (but I will defend this at the greatest length once we discuss particular moral questions), atheist justifications for morality (i.e., logically carried through) will always be either completely arbitrary, relativistic to the point of absurdity, or derived from axiomatic assumptions requiring no less faith than Christian ethics require. I think it was Dostoevsky who said “if God doesn’t exist, anything is permissible.” Sartre said something similar, which I don’t recall at the moment (probably someone here would know to what I am referring).

Dostoyevsky did indeed say that, in Crime and Punishment. Interestingly, though, I think he committed the same error that many apologists do on this point; he equated Godlessness with “the will to power” (embodied by the proto-Nietzschean Raskolnikov).

Arguably, it has been that, with regard to institutional Marxist/Communist atheism, no?

Indeed. The question there is whether this is because they are atheistic, or whether atheism (or in this case, a particular political philosophy which includes atheism) creates this tendency. Personally, I think things like the horrors of Stalinism are better explained by George Orwell than any appeal to belief systems per se. In other words, I think Stalin would have been no less murderous if his professed beliefs had been, say, Hindu.

Yes. My main point in mentioning Stalin was to argue that if Christianity is to be blamed for every evil of the Middle Ages (and we have even seen Hitler absurdly called a Christian on this list), then by the same token Stalin and Mao must come under the category of atheist. Either we reject both scenarios as misrepresentations of our views, or it seems to me that we must accept them both as representative, however distant or objectionable the “inclusion” may be.

I think it’s simply a matter that both scenarios have little or nothing to do with theism or atheism.

And I would contend that it could also (by logical extension) be that in the mind of an immoral atheist who felt himself to be the “measure of all things,” as the humanists say. I’m very interested in what the decent, moral atheist would say to these folks; how it would be explained to them that atheism is incompatible with such reprehensible behavior (and why and how the other person should be “bound” to the moral observations).

And why is that? We say it is because God provides the over-arching “absolute” and principle of right and wrong which allows for coherent ethics and non-arbitrary determination of good and evil. We even believe that God is love. Love and goodness is personified and expressed and grounded in His very Being. Furthermore, Christians believe that God put this inherent sense in all human beings, so that they instinctively have a moral compass, and therefore largely agree on right and wrong in the main (murder is wrong, so is betrayal, rape, stealing, etc., in all cultures — it may be defined in particulars somewhat differently, but the consensus is there).

Atheists have this sense, put there by God, just as believers do, whether they acknowledge it or not (though it can, of course, be unlearned by intellectual conditioning or surroundings). And their behavior proves it. That’s why (in our opinion) they are usually as moral and upright as a group as any other group of people. But to the extent that they are moral and good, I argue that this is inevitably in conflict with their ultimate ground of ethics, however it is spelled-out, insofar as it excludes God. Without God it will always be relative and arbitrary and usually unable to be enforced except by brute force. Atheists act far better than their ethics (in their ultimate reduction).

The Communists, though, acted fairly consistently with their atheistic principles (as they laid them out — not that all atheists will or must act this way, which is manifestly false). God was kicked out, and morality became that which Marx (or Lenin) decreed. One can argue all day whether Lenin and especially Stalin were true Communists, and so forth (I think they were). “Orthodox” Marxism — that formulated by Marx — is inherently atheistic, as I understand it.

The fact remains that the fruit in the real world of such materialistic social experiments on the grand scale was mass murder, both in Stalinist Russia and Maoist China (infinitely worse in numbers and in horrors and evil than anything that ever occurred in the Crusades or Inquisition, which we hear about endlessly, because it serves – in the vastly-distorted way in which it is presented- – as quite effective propaganda against Christianity; particularly Catholicism).

The Nazis did the same thing, though they were a bit more into the occult, as I understand it. In any event, they were not Christian in any way, shape or form, which is why many thousands of Christians died in the camps as well: people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, St. Edith Stein, and St. Maximilian Kolbe, along with thousands of nuns, priests, and Protestant clergymen, and why a person like Oskar Schindler was lucky to escape with his life.

That’s my first statement of my thesis (many others have stated it far more eloquently). I can and will defend it at the greatest length, and – if all my past experience in such discussions is any measure – it will only be strengthened as we deal with particulars. I suspect it will be misunderstood a great deal more before we are through with this discussion, but that’s why we have discussion in the first place, isn’t it?: to foster further understanding on both sides, and to examine our own assumptions.

(2) and (4) have no prima facie relevance that I can see. Why are the lack of ultimate justice, or of an afterlife of eternal bliss, problematic for the notion of goodness? This would seem to suggest that something cannot be meaningfully good or evil unless it is going to be judged to be such, and rewarded or punished accordingly. But this seems false; if something is objectively right or wrong, it is right or wrong quite apart from any questions of what horrors will be inflicted on the wrongdoer or what gifts will be given to his opposite.

Please allow me to explain, if I may. The philosophical ground of goodness in the Christian view is neither the presence nor absence of justice, nor the existence of heaven and hell. It is grounded in God Himself. God is good; we are His creatures, made in His image, so we are good insofar as we are like Him, and united with Him in purpose and outlook. It’s as simple as that, but one can write volumes about it, too.

My comment about eschatological justice was not intended as the basis of morality, but about the ultimate futility and nihilism of an atheistic morality — consistently carried-through –, however noble and well-intentioned. In the atheist (purely logical and philosophical) world, Hitler and Stalin and Mao and other evil people go to their graves and that’s it! They got away with their crimes. They could have theoretically gone out of the world (as well as all through their lives) laughing and mocking all their victims, because there literally was no justice where they are personally concerned. Why this wouldn’t give the greatest pause and concern to the atheist moralist and ethicist is beyond me.

In the Christian worldview, though, the scales of justice operate in the afterlife as well as (quite imperfectly) in human courts and in gargantuan conflicts like World War II where the “good guys” (all in all) managed to win. Hitler and Stalin do not “pull one over on God” (or on an abstract notion of justice). They don’t “get away with murder.” They are punished, and eternally at that, barring a last-minute repentance which is theoretically possible, but not likely. All makes sense in the end, and there is every reason and incentive to endure evil and suffering when there is ultimately the highest purpose for it. Even Jesus embraced profound suffering; therefore we can as well.

That doesn’t make it a bed of roses for us, by any means, but it is sure a lot easier to endure than under atheist assumptions, where one returns to the dust and ceases to exist, quite often having utterly failed at life, or having been abused their entire life, with nothing significant to ever look forward to. Where is the hope and purpose in that? You tell me; I’m all ears. I truly want to understand how you deal with this ultimate lack of hope or purpose or design, as I would see it.

This was not so much an argument, as it was pointing out that the logical conclusion to atheist ethics is utter despair at what goes on in the world, and the ultimate meaninglessness of it all. It is not arguing that (as in your flawed perception):

1) All is meaningless in the end; therefore no morality (in practice) is possible, and therefore all atheists are scoundrels.”

but rather:

2) The ultimate meaninglessness of the universe and the futility of seeing tyrants like Stalin do their evil deeds and never come to justice in this life or the next, ought to bring anyone who believes this to despair, and constitutes a far greater (“existential”) difficulty than the Problem of Evil — which has a number of fairly adequate rejoinders — represents for the Christian.

(5) evidently requires some more detail. It cannot be saying that atheists never find any hope or meaning in the universe; obviously they do, or we would all be suicidal and mad. (We’re obviously not suicidal… as for mad, well, it’s an open question. ;)

Precisely my point: the atheist does not consistently think through the “eschatological” implications of his position. Otherwise, I fail to see why he wouldn’t despair, go mad, or become an evil person (pure hedonism or narcissism or sadist or other such excess. Why not?). The easiest way to illustrate this is simply to ask you and other atheists on this list what the purpose of life and the universe is, how you know that; what gives you “hope” and so forth.

This goes beyond mere philosophy, to the very purpose of our existence and being. Of course we can philosophize in speculating and thinking about these things, yet the thing itself is not philosophy, but Reality and Purpose, which has to be something, whether or not we ever figure it out. And when you give me those purposes, as you see them, I think you will see — with further dialogue — that they are based on very little other than faith and presumptuous hopes, which in turn boil down to propositions no better substantiated than the Christian ones of faith which are so frowned-upon and considered silly and unworthy of belief and so on. In fact, I contend that ours have far more objective basis than yours do.

What exactly [are you] claiming here? That atheists’ hopes, or notions of what is meaningful, are invalid just because they do not center around God? But that can hardly be it.

Insofar as God offers the only means of hope in terms of purpose, yes. Meaning is put into all human beings by God. But more accurately, I am simply acknowledging — with Sartre — that it is a sad and troubling, devastating thing if God does not exist, that a universe with no God is (when all is said and done) a lonely, tragic, and meaningless place. This is presupposed by the very Argument from Evil that is used against us! So you can scarcely deny it! Most lives on this earth are not all that happy or fulfilled.

And you would have us believe that after miserable, ragged lives lived all through history (e.g., the millions who don’t have enough to eat right now, or the Christian victims of genocide and slavery in the Sudan), the persons die and go in the ground, and that they ought to be happy during their tortured lives? Why? What sense does it all make? We can play that game in prosperous North America and Europe because all our material needs are met and we can occupy ourselves with various pleasures so that we don’t have to think about the sad realities of the world all that much (Maslow’s hierarchy).

What does this suggest? That things are not ideal.

Beyond that: that the universe is fundamentally senseless and hopeless for many millions of persons.

That we have a very good reason to make things better, rather than waiting for God to do it for us.

That’s a non-issue. The issue is “what is the purpose of all that suffering and futility, in the atheist worldview?”

Suppose there is no purpose. Maybe it’s just the case that humans suffer because the universe is not designed to accommodate us; that suffering is just a thing we should try to minimize, not something which has a particular value in itself.

Okay, I’m supposing it. Now how do you cope with that?

By trying to minimize suffering.

I don’t think everyone ought to be happy. I think a lot of people aren’t happy, and for very good reason. And it’s a dreadful thing. Again: sure, it’d be great if everyone were happy at some point. Then again, it would be even better if everyone were happy all the time even before heaven, wouldn’t it? But this would be a pipe dream, yes?

In the sense of the probability of it happening, yes. But you are still not really directly dealing with my question.

I’m trying to. In the case above, I’m trying to do this by getting you to see things from the atheistic perspective. We can all think of things that are untrue, yet would be great if true; yet we don’t believe these things, and we make do nonetheless. I’d personally grant that it would be great if all suffering culminated in endless bliss; but I don’t believe it does, and I find meaning in the happiness that does exist.

So nothing in atheism troubles you, not even to the extent that the problem of evil bothers me as a Christian?

Atheism is nothing more than the denial of theism. There are some ramifications of theism that would be great if true — who wouldn’t want a friend in high places? — but nothing that seems so necessary that their absence is troubling. To reuse an example, wouldn’t you agree that it would be great if humans could fly? But you presumably don’t find the lack of this ability “troubling”, in the sense that you lose sleep over it. This is sort of how I think about the nicer implications of theism.

Now, this isn’t to say that there aren’t difficult intellectual issues with atheism. Naturally there are! For example, arguments for God (ontological and cosmological, largely) are ultimately uncompelling, in my opinion, but not always simply, straightforwardly, or uncontroversially so.

The question you seem to be asking me is, “but how can the happiness that you do find be enough? How can that be enough for meaning, hope, etc.? How can it be enough when you know some people live really horrible lives?” The problem is, I don’t know how this question might theoretically be answered, because this is simply asking how it could be enough for me. What can I say, except that it is enough? I think the problem here is that you want something like an objective philosophical justification of an essentially subjective and emotional phenomenon (i.e., finding life meaningful, valuable, etc.).

Now, maybe you think this is just the point: that atheists (or this atheist, at any rate) downplay meaning and hope to a subjective phenomenon, whereas Christians try to make it into an objective one.

Yes, I think that becomes a huge problem, if followed through consistently, and I say that we see its negative fruits in the increasingly secular world today.

The thing is, the situation is the same for both parties. Both Christians and atheists believe in a lot of different facts about the universe. But no fact implies meaning or hope for us, or the ability to dispel existential despair, apart from our subjective view of it.

That’s not true if revelation is true, because that gives us solid, objective facts. God exists; He has a certain benevolent nature; He cares about the world and His creatures, etc.

No, you missed the point here. I am making a distinction between facts and subjective values. No fact about external reality has subjective value for us intrinsically. We have to subjectively find value in the fact. God having a benevolent nature is (on the theistic view) a fact, but it is an irrelevant fact for our personal hopefulness, etc. unless we happen to think God’s benevolence is valuable.

If you find meaning in the idea that God has created you to do X, this is meaningful for you — i.e., it solves your existential despair — because you find it meaningful. If you didn’t care that God had created you to do X, it would not be any sort of “ultimate meaning or purpose” for you at all.

But that’s pure relativistic existentialism. The Christian finds the meaning precisely because he believes that God exists (on other grounds) and is the basis and foundation for our existence and purpose. One must determine whether there is a God, then move on to the next stage. We don’t just believe because it gives us meaning, which is an entirely different thing; almost a pragmatic approach to theism, which is really no Christian theism at all.

But interestingly, this sort of pragmatic theism seems to be the basis for your argument against atheism. But if this is no real theism at all, then it doesn’t really contradict atheism, does it? That is, you seem to be saying that atheists cannot consistently be atheists on pragmatic grounds… but based on what you say above, this doesn’t mean that atheism in the more legitimate sense is inconsistent.

Similarly, whatever it is that an atheist might find meaningful is meaningful for him or her just because he or she find it to be such.

In a subjective fashion, yes, but I thought we were discussing possible objective solutions? If we confine this discussion to subjectivism, then there can be no discussion in the first place, because one person’s opinion would be irrelevant to the next person’s – since they have no relation to each other epistemologically. It would be like discussing whether chocolate or vanilla ice cream is intrinsically “superior.”

Exactly! This is the situation as I see it as regards meaning and hope.

Personally, I like this particular quote very much:

“Each of us visits this Earth involuntarily, and without an invitation. For me, it is enough to wonder at the secrets.” -Einstein

That’s great, as far as it goes. Christians have more than enough “secrets” to wonder about, too; even more, because of the extraordinary nature of God.

One might find meaning in the search for truth, as in the above quote.

But that is not sufficient when you ponder that you will cease existing in a very short period of time. And that injustice is all around us, with much of it unpunished.

Or in happiness, for oneself and for others.

That’s all fine and dandy, and we would expect it, but it doesn’t deal with looking the black universe in the face and truly reflecting upon its ultimate lack of purpose.

And so forth. Is it that atheists cannot do this?

Not at all; it is that they can’t do it consistently with their philosophy in the fullness of its implications, and that they must fall back on the equivalent of Christian faith at some point in order to do so, and that they live off the “capital” of the image of God which exists in them whether they accept it or not.

Or is it that these are insufficient for some reason?

They are that, too. If my biggest purpose in life were to sit here and be entranced with ideas (much as I enormously enjoy doing so), I would be in despair, because life consists of far more than intellectual titillation or love of ideas, or some futile search for “happiness,” considered apart from ultimate purposes.

All that aside, too, it’s unclear how (5), even if it were true, would be a “problem of good” for atheists.

Because it is clearly far worse to have a Hitler and a Stalin do what they did and go to their end unpunished, than it is to believe in an afterlife where monster-morons like that are punished for what they did, and that those who lived a far better moral life are rewarded at long last (for many, the only significant “happiness” they ever had). These are not proofs; I am simply answering why this is even more so a difficulty (in the sense of a “troublesome thought”) for the atheist. The other part of this is to ask “why be good?” The Christian answers, “because that is the reason I was created; to be like God, and to be unified with Him, and in so doing, also unified with my fellow man.” The atheist says: ???

That’s more than enough for now. This will be far more nailed down in the course of dialogue. It is much stronger and persuasive in application to particular moral situations and questions, I think.

Do you see the points you made as more applicable to refuting the problem of evil, or to making it into a problem for atheists? (The latter doesn’t necessarily equal the former.)

The latter. That was my intent. It’s turning the tables. But I still consider the Problem of Evil the most formidable and understandable objection to Christianity. Obviously I don’t think it succeeds . . .

I’m not widely read on the topic either. (I have, for example, never read a single atheistic apologetic work.) I have come across the problem in readings — e.g., in CS Lewis, or Cornelius Van Til — but have never seen it presented in a philosophically robust way.

Anyhow, your point above actually sounds more or less exactly like what I was describing in my initial objection. What you present above is simply Divine Command Theory — or at least, the most popular variant of it, which states that moral standards are grounded in the nature of God.

It’s always fun to learn of the technical term for one’s position. :-) This, then, would also be the Catholic Christian (particularly Scholastic/Thomist) perspective on the matter.

Why does the assertion of this theory prove that atheistic ethics are completely “arbitrary” or “relativistic to the point of absurdity”?

It doesn’t “prove” it because it is a separate theory. It is simply a superior ethical option (as a coherent, consistent system) to any atheist brand, in my opinion. My argument is that atheist ethics will always end up being self-defeating, and/or relativistic to the point of being utterly incapable of practical application. Failing God, the standard then becomes a merely human one, therefore ultimately and inevitably arbitrary and relativistic and unable to be maintained for large groups of people except by brute force and dictatorship (which is precisely what happened, if Stalinism or Maoism are regarded as versions of consistent philosophical atheism to any degree, or even corrupt versions of it).

Obviously they would be such if DCT were assumed — DCT being true would of course mean that atheistic ethics were false — but no atheist is going to grant that from the get-go. But maybe I’ve missed something here.

You have. That was not my argument, which was: “atheists have their own ‘problem of evil,’ even more troubling than the Christian one.” I merely referred to the Christian version of ethics insofar as it is able to resolve certain problems which, it seems to me, the atheist cannot solve, or at least only with the greatest difficulty and arbitrariness.

Exactly which problems?

How to arrive at an objective criteria; how to enforce it across the board; how to make such a morality something other than the end result of a majority vote or the power of governmental coercion. Also, how do we solve thorny societal problems such as various sexual differences, and beginning and end of life issues such as abortion and euthanasia and cloning?

I don’t see that these are particularly problematic for atheism. There is dispute, of course, about what the best objective criteria are; but then, there is dispute within the ranks of theism, too. (There are different conceptions of DCT, for example, plus Natural Law theory. And there are even theists who hold to nontheistic ethics — this is not a contradiction in terms, because these are nontheistic rather than atheistic per se).

As for enforcement, naturally the thing that concerns the atheist is enforcement in the mortal realm. Here, again, all moral theories are on a more or less equal footing. How, if one knew DCT were true, would one go about enforcing morality in the here and now?

By evangelizing people, helping them convert, and thus unifying the world population. :-) Short of that, at least convincing them of the need for universal norms and arguing the Christian positions on a case-by-case pragmatic/utilitarian basis (using arguments the non-Christian can relate to).

The solution to societal problems is more or less a consequence of the sort of theory we end up with. For example, contractualism would simply say that the issue of euthanasia comes down to whether or not ending one’s own life defied the social contract.

The Christian must believe that life is sacred and that decisions to end it (apart from justified war, self-defense, etc.) are best left in the hands of God. Of course, without God, then without any higher criterion than human, anything becomes possible in terms of the ending of life. So we see the fruits of that worldview all around us.

In other words, Christians have the universal and absolute standard: God. What do humanists have? Most are ethical relativists, I believe. How, then, are worldwide ethics to be determined and lived out? Relativists have a certain obvious set of problems. If there is an atheistic absolutism (as I suspect), then that will have to be explained to me: how it is arrived at; why anyone should accept it, etc. I’ve been trying to have this conversation for years. I almost did with an agnostic scientist I debated, but he was never willing to truly subject his own views to the scrutiny I was prepared to give them.

All of this would seem to follow only if indeed the ultimate ground of ethics were (and had to be) God. Have you got an argument demonstrating this much?

Briefly, and off the top of the head, my reasoning might run as follows:

1. There is a God (cosmological and teleological arguments, as well as many others).

2. There is such a thing as the natural law (as evidenced by the profound similarities and broad consensus of ethics anthropologically, and the impracticality and tragic results of all relativistic ethical systems).

3. It is plausible and sensible (granting #1) to ground natural law in God, and His nature, because He is both First Cause, Creator, and Eternal.

4. God has revealed Himself as good (revelation, miracles, Jesus Christ).

5. God is the lawgiver and Creator, Who made man in His image, including their moral sense.

6. Particulars of the moral law which is generally understood intuitively (#2) are fleshed out in revelation (Ten Commandments, the Jewish Law, New Testament ethics).

A theistic or absolutistic ethics can be arrived at by #1-3. The fuller, more worked-out Christian version incorporates the additional points.

My critique of atheism presently, however, is independent of the validity or soundness of my own Christian view, because it is aimed at internal inconsistency, incoherence, and (I contend) impossibility of concrete application (as well as a few historical examples which I take to be — in some measure — substantiating evidence of my argument).

I have never agreed with the “Crusades and Inquisitions” objections either (at least with regard to the notion of Christian morality in general).

Great. You are a rare bird!

But all you’re doing here is making the same objection against atheism. It doesn’t work any better this way.

The Stalinist and Maoist examples are not central to the argument (in fact, completely dispensable). They were merely thrown in for consideration. I know all this wasn’t explained, but that’s why more discussion is always helpful.

The problem is that it conflates two different issues:

a) Can, and have, atheists been immoral?

Yes, but so what? So have many Christians (in fact, all of them: we believe in original sin LOL).

b) Does immorality derive from atheism?

No; it derives from giving into the baser elements of our natures (again, Christians explain the strange moral duality of man by original sin and a corruption of the initial created purity). Atheism, at best, might be used to justify intellectually, or to rationalize, various individual sins and evil acts.

Exactly right (sans the original sin stuff, of course). Just about any belief system can be used to rationalize misdeeds. Consider the Pope of the time, for example, in justifying the Crusades… he explained that when the Bible commanded people not to kill, it really meant “don’t kill other Christians.” :)

No, this is absurdly simplistic. The biblical command “Thou shalt not kill” is better translated “Thou shalt not murder,” because that was the meaning of it. Some forms of killing were permissible; indeed Jewish Law had the death penalty for a number of offenses. The Christian Just War theory (developed by Augustine and others) worked out the instances where war was ethically justified. Unless one is a strict pacifist, this is necessary for everyone to determine (the times to ethically use force).

Well, of course, a strict pacifist might very well argue that this “Just War theory” is an excellent example of such rationalization…! Who was it, again, who commanded people to turn the other cheek? :)

He also said that His disciples ought to purchase a sword (Luke 22:35-36) and did not rebuke a Roman centurion for being a military man; in fact He highly praised his faith (Matthew 8:5-13). This is not rationalization at all. It is a real-world ethical system, very poorly-understood by many critics of Christianity, and even by pacifists within Christianity.

At any rate, that was just an off-the-cuff example. I think we agree on the basic idea (i.e., that rationalization can be used to pervert any belief system).

Indeed.

Of course (a) is true. It is true of atheists, theists, and everyone in between. The fact is, anyone who is a human being is capable of being
immoral.

Exactly. Why that is, is a whole ‘nother discussion, of course. But no one would dream of disputing the fact of it.

But this is no connection at all with (b).

I agree.

How does simply presenting the Christian view of morality show that absurdity is the end result of atheistic thinking?

It doesn’t; that wasn’t central to my argument. I was simply stating that Christians solve the “problem” in a certain fashion, and wondering out loud how atheists solve it. Two roads to the same destination; that sort of thing.

“Nihilism” is inapplicable here. Nihilism is the view that there is no such thing as moral value at all;

It remains to be seen (in my opinion) how relativistic and/or atheistic ethics can avoid a logical reduction to nihilism. I’d be delighted to see this demonstrated, but I am skeptical so far.

and lack of ultimate punishment/reward in no way suggests that.

I agree. I didn’t say it did. Yet lacking the latter might arguably become an incentive for immoral and dominating behavior.

This is certainly arguable, at any rate. This is the same sort of argument that is advanced in favour of capital punishment, for example, yet the retort is that capital punishment has never been shown to have deterrent value. I don’t even know how we would go about showing that belief in ultimate justice has deterrent value; maybe by assessing crime rates among Christians versus atheists. I’m not sure, though, that the results would unequivocally suggest anything. (For example, it’s apparently a fact that Christians are statistically overrepresented in prisons… but I don’t think that’s particularly suggestive of anything).

Probably only that atheists come from the more educated classes, which tend to be more financially well-off, hence less prone to crime. :-)

Could be. Or it could even just be the fact that more prisoners are likely to report being Christian when they know perfectly well that professed religiosity helps their chances of parole.

:-) Great insight! We’ve just seen this process in a President, so it rings true with me.

As for futility, there are several points to be made here. The first is that not all ethicists see justice as retributive. Some also take a correctional view, for example, to which ultimate punishment/reward in the sense you give would be quite irrelevant. On this view, the point of punishment and reward is consequentialist: to correct the error of the wrongdoer and reinforce the behaviour of the good. Is there something inherently futile about this view?

No, not as far as it goes. But the Christian sees justice as “cosmic.” Evil is a blot on the “normality” of the universe, and it offends God. It is an offense against the ontological nature of things, as God intended it. Obviously, these things are no factor in atheist ethics. They are
nonsensical.

Quite right. But the question is, is this a problem for atheistic ethics?

Incidentally, the view of justice as “cosmic”, or of evil as an abnormality/offense, do not themselves suggest a retributive view of justice. The basic difference between retributive and correctional views is just this: retributive views put the premium on “eye for an eye”, or punishing harm with harm; and correctional views put the premium on simply doing whatever best stops people from committing harm. Why, I wonder, wouldn’t God take the correctional view?

He does! But he is also Divine Judge, as analogous (if rather dimly) to earthly judges.

This analogy doesn’t really answer anything, since whether or not earthly judges do, or should, dispense correctional or retributive justice is hotly debated.

Okay.

You seem to have God faithfully practicing two conflicting kinds of justice at the same time, which doesn’t make sense. Correctional justice takes the end, or purpose, of justice to be consequentialist. That is, if one is to judge in this sense, then one is looking at producing whatever judgment will produce the best state of affairs. So: if God is consequentialist, God simply dispenses justice in whatever way will lead to the most people being saved and fulfilled. God would not be out to harm those who do wrong, or are evil; he would be out to correct their errors, and make them into good people.

God can judge the sins but also at the same time cause people to come to grips with what they need to do in order to be ultimately saved. But there is mercy and forgiveness, which in turn depends on human will and the willingness to repent.

Alternatively, retributive justice takes the end of justice to be vengeance. If one is to judge in this sense, then one is attempting to visit some harm those who have acted wrongly or are deficient in character.

Well, if God has, in fact, given everyone ample opportunity to repent and they choose not to, there has to be some point at which His mercy comes to an end and Judgment enters in. To live with God forever, one has to be perfect; cleansed of evil. To do that one must repent, receive God’s graces and strive to live above sin and evil. But people — having free will — can refuse that. If they make a habit out of it, they become comfortable living without God; they become “hardened.”

So, then, if they die, they will be judged by whether or not they received God’s free gift of grace, what they know (many will be saved by the loophole of ignorance), and what they did and didn’t do with what they knew about God and good and evil. If they are not “fit” for heaven, not having been redeemed by Christ’s death for them, then they must live eternally separate from God, and that is what we call hell. Why eternal hellfire is a “cosmic necessity,” I cannot explain, I freely confess. But I have every reason to believe that God is both fair and just in both His judgments and distribution of His graces.

The problem is that either view requires a different kind of judgment in certain cases. Let’s suppose that, after his death, Hitler is forced to stand before the almighty. In this moment — following the Jack Chick school of theology :) — Hitler realizes how evil his acts on the earthly realm were, and falls down in atonement. God, being able to see into hearts and all, can see he is sincere. What does God do?

If God is dispensing correctional justice, God lets Hitler into heaven. The past misdeeds were terrible, but God can see that Hitler now realizes this fact; there is no reason, now that he has realized his past error, for Hitler to be punished for anything.

Hitler had to do this before he died (which is extremely unlikely, knowing human evil and corruption and what it does to a soul, as we do, but still remotely possible); that is the only catch. There has to be an end-point for the mercy which God extends. God is not required to be merciful at all, in exercising His prerogative as Judge. So it is not “evil” of God to simply set a time at which the mercy comes to an end. And that time is every individual’s death.

It’s like a Governor extending the offer of a pardon 47 times to a prisoner on death row, and being refused 47 times. Is he then “unjust” or “cruel” to conclude “enough is enough” and to cease offering pardons? Of course not. And who do we blame if the prisoner then gets executed? The Governor, right???!!! :-)

If God is dispensing retributive justice, God sends Hitler to be nibbled on by demons for eternity. Sure, he’s sorry now, and sure, he’s changed; but he has to pay for the pain he has inflicted with pain of his own.

It is not unjust if a person spurns God’s grace and chooses to become increasingly more evil. That person must be judged (and damned) in the end. The alternative (Hitler and you and I or Mother Teresa all having exactly the same end) is infinitely more troubling to me. I don’t know how anyone could think otherwise, except by habit of thinking poorly of God (or of the unaccepted concept) and not understanding His dual role as both loving, merciful Father and Holy Judge.

Do you see what I mean? The ultimate end of justice for God cannot both be retribution and correction, because those views themselves have conflicting ends.

Not at all, as I hope I have adequately explained.

Indeed, if the only purpose of justice is to put the cosmic house in order, as it were, why would God stress retribution? To use that analogy: if your house is in disarray, does it make more sense to destroy everything that’s out of place — e.g., burn all your clothes because they’re not properly tucked away in the closet — or to put everything back as it should be…?

That’s the distinction between redemption and final judgment. God is both Savior and Judge, because He is the Creator. He made us; He desires us to be saved and fulfilled, which entails union with Him and with His will, but at the same time He allows us the freedom to disobey Him, and that will eventually involve separation from God and eternal punishment for those who choose that course and spurn God’s free gift of grace, by the very nature of things.

The second is that many atheists, myself included, would not agree that ultimate “justice” in the classical Christian sense really is just at all. That is: justice in this sense involves infinite punishment, but humans are only capable of finite crimes. If justice involves matching the punishment to the crime — as it must, lest we start executing jaywalkers — then any infinite punishment would be de facto unjust. This point would not, of course, apply to universalists.

Hell is a completely different discussion, so I can’t indulge it here. Suffice it to say that human beings are immortal. They have a free choice to choose to obey God and be in union with Him, or to reject Him. We make these choices in this life, and the choices have eternal consequences. God honors that freedom. He can’t force love anymore than human beings can (well, He could have done so, but He chose not to). It is simply the nature of things that souls are immortal, and that they can either be with God or separate from Him, eternally.

Hell is the individual’s choice. It is like a lifer in prison turning down the Governor’s free pardon. Is that the Governor’s fault? C. S. Lewis said that the doors of hell were locked on the inside. So I don’t see this as any sort of blot on God’s character at all. It (hell) is the tragic result of man’s rebellion, selfishness, pride, self-delusion, and stupidity.

Hell is indeed a different topic. I brought it up just to make the point that, apart from the issue of whether it is necessary for morality, there is some serious question as to whether the classically Christian view is even sufficient.

Not for orthodox Christians. :-) We may not like the idea (emotionally, and at a gut level) much more than you do, but we don’t accept things in theology based on our likes and dislikes. In this case, we have a teaching repeatedly referred to by Jesus, and thus not optional for a Christian.

I won’t go off on too much of a rant, but I will say for the record that the view you describe above — of hell as the individual’s choice — smacks to me horribly of rationalization. Imagine a mugger: “give me all your money or you’re dead.” The person refuses, and gets killed. Could the mugger then say, “well, it was his free choice to die; is it my fault he chose that?” Hardly! The person who refused did not choose to be killed; he merely refused to do what the mugger wanted him to do, and the mugger decided that the consequence would be death. As you say, though, this issue deserves a thread in itself.

This is a completely false analogy because it involves coercion and no fault on the part of the person judged, whereas with us and God, God lets us freely choose good or evil, and we are at fault if we choose wrongly, or — to follow up on my earlier point — we have chosen to separate ourselves from God and He says “okay, have your way.” Otherwise, He would have to force us to love Him and desire to be with Him, and that is no love at all, anymore than a love slave really loves their master.

The analogy wasn’t to do with the justice or morality of the demand, but just on the fact that God is making a demand and enforcing obedience as opposed to just sitting back and saying “well, it’s your choice whether you go to heaven or hell”. We do not choose heaven or hell; we choose obedience or disobedience, and it is God who decides the consequences. (Unless, of course, going to heaven or hell is just some sort of natural process that God has no part in. But I’d be really surprised if any Christian said that).

This seems to me to be a distinction without a difference.To be disobedient is to separate oneself from God, which in turn is ultimately the state of hell, or outer darkness. Again, that’s like the proverbial death row inmate, who (in my previous example) refused a Governor’s Pardon 47 times. He chose to be “disobedient” to the Governor, or – put another way – to separate himself from the non-prison, free world, with the Governor and those in his “kingdom,” so to speak. Now, is it the Governor who decided those “consequences” or the inmate?

The Governor decided the consequences. This, again, is not itself meant as any judgment that doing so is necessarily unjust; but it is nevertheless a fact that the prisoner did not choose to be such. Choosing to go to prison, construed meaningfully, would mean actually willing this end and no criminal actually wills the end of going to prison.

I think willing the end is necessary to be able to say we choose it, because otherwise choice becomes too inclusive. For example, suppose that your car has, without your knowledge, been rigged to explode when started. You choose to turn the key in the ignition, and the car blows up… did you choose to die? Clearly, not in any significant sense. The end you willed was simply to make your car start. Similarly, if we disobey God — by being atheists, say — we do not thereby will ourselves to go to hell. Indeed, if we are atheists, we don’t even believe in hell — it is as unforeseen a consequence for us as the explosion of the car would be for you.

It’s true that God decides, or judges, but we have already made our choice, reinforced through many years of practice (what the Christian would characterize as resistance and rebellion) in most cases. He is merely definitively proclaiming what is already a reality (separation from God), and granting the resister his will in full. The outcome of that is hell; that is what it means to be completely separated from God, and since souls cannot die, by their very nature, therefore hell must be an eternal state as well. “Ya lives yer life and ya makes yer choice.”

This seems equivocal. Are you saying that it is impossible for God to do other than send sinners to hell…?

But as to the justice of the matter, one simple point settles it for me: justice always proportions the punishment to the crime. Hell is an infinite punishment; but there is no way that a finite human being can commit an infinite crime.

The third point is that you are speaking above as though morality were only meaningful if it may be absolutely enforced.

Not so much meaningless per se, as impracticable, arbitrary, and philosophically unjustifiable.

The problem is that it’s still unclear where these are coming from. Why is such a view of morality impracticable?

Because people will always disagree on this or that (abortion is a prime example today). Therefore, the only way to enforce standards across the board would have to be by force, majority vote, or both. But if one believes in objective morality, that is insufficient. The Christian solution provides a standard for one and all, because it is a code grounded in natural law, revelation (itself supported in numerous ways), and in God’s very character. Utilitarian ethics eventually break down.

All objective morality provides a standard for one and all, and I’m not sure how it is that DCT would be more enforceable than other kinds of morality in the here and now. So, I’m not sure what you could be arguing here.

Obviously, atheists do practice it, so you must mean that it ought to be impracticable… but why? What makes it arbitrary? (What is meant by arbitrary?) Why is it philosophically unjustifiable? It isn’t enough that the Christian view includes it, and you take this to be somehow superior; these are ambitious, positive claims about atheism.

I think I have explained myself previously . . .

But why should the atheist agree?

He doesn’t have to; he needs to justify his own ethics, based on his own premises.

Obviously, anyone who pretends to have a full-fledged theory of ethics needs to do this. But this is quite irrelevant to your claim that atheistic morality is impracticable, arbitrary, and unjustifiable. If you make this claim, then you must know something about atheism which reduces to this moral impracticability, arbitrariness, etc.

Simply because there can be no conclusive standard for all people to be held to unless it is “above” humanity. Otherwise, morality invariably becomes relative, self-centered, or subject to governmental coercion and/or majority vote. The Germans voted in the Nazis, and they made certain laws, and the laws were, in turn, regarded as “good” and “right.” There is no higher Being to be subject to, which was assumed by, e.g., the Declaration of Independence, and throughout early American jurisprudence; now being more and more whitewashed of its natural law elements.

Your argument, then, is this:

1. Objective morality must be non relativistic (not relative to cultures,governments, or individuals).

2. Without a higher being, all behavioural imperatives are relativistic.

3. Therefore, there can be no objective morality without a higher being.

The problem is premise (2). Why should anyone believe it? You have given no argument for it as yet. What you have done is asked me to show you how an objective theory of morality works without God (and I’ve done so) — but this is in no way an argument for (2), only a request for potential disproofs of it.

Your characterization of my argument is incorrect, for numbers 2 and 3 (but that’s okay, as I set forth lots of things, and no doubt not as coherently or clearly as I could have done). Here is how I would state them (I do contend that my argument is considerably more sophisticated and nuanced than you seem to realize):

Okay, fair enough; I’ll address your argument as given.

1. Objective morality must be non relativistic (not relative to cultures, governments, or individuals). [good enough]

2. Without a higher being, all behavioral imperatives logically and in practice reduce to (ultimately arbitrary) relativism, in the sense that no single standard will be able to be enforced for, or applied to one and all (which is what “objective morality” — #1 — requires); and that because no substantive or unquestionable criterion is given for the grounds for such a standard, as an alternate to the Christian axiomatic basis of God, in Whose Nature morality resides and is defined.

I’m not sure what this means. All objective ethical theories offer a standard which is applied to all. Enforcement is a difficult matter, but it’s hard to see why this makes nontheistic morality impracticable or arbitrary; objective ethics supply the standard for behaviour, and thus inform our attempts to enforce morality… an objective ethical theory just means that we ought to enforce some standard, not that it is or can be fully enforced. Moreover, any objective ethical theory being true implies that the immoral actor is committing an error whether he gets caught at it or not. I just don’t see the relativism you allude to.

As for the purely practical side, it’s not clear that people will feel free to disregard morality simply because there is no ultimate enforcement. This would be ultimately a psychological claim, but it’s not one that has been generally substantiated. (I previously mentioned, for example, the fact that capital punishment — which is a pretty ultimate enforcement — has never been shown to have deterrent value.)

3. Therefore, there cannot logically be a self-consistent objective morality (one able to be consistently practiced by one and all in the real world) without a higher being; all merely human-based efforts will end in arbitrariness (and often, tyranny), due to the inability to arrive at a necessary, non-relative starting point and systematic moral axiom.

One problem here is that it’s not clear to me when exactly you’re talking about ethical theory and when you’re talking about applied ethics. Your first sentence suggests the latter, but terms like “necessary, non-relative” suggest the former. The two cannot be used interchangeably; things like logic, coherency, and relativism/objectivism apply at the theoretical level, and things like possible practicability or enforceability at the applied level.

To clarify, then: is your point that atheistic ethics are flawed in theory or in practice? Or is it both?

To me, what I called the “heart” of my critique was the point at which you admitted that each individual’s moral choices were his own, or relative, to some extent (I don’t recall your exact phrase, offhand).

“The internal criterion.” By the way, there’s a really good essay that explains all this metaethical terminology: “The Normativity of Instrumental Reason” by Christine Korsgaard (a prominent neo-Kantian). While it’s not directly on topic here — she is dealing with the question of how, exactly, practical reason is binding on us — I personally found it immensely clarifying. I couldn’t find an online version, but Korsgaard’s own webpage can be found at: http://www.people.fas.harvard.edu/~korsgaar/

Another good source is David Velleman, who writes on the same sort of topics. He’s not quite as clear as Korsgaard, in my opinion, but I think some of his stuff is available online at his page: http://www-personal.umich.edu/~velleman/

How is that not relativism? How is it not inconsistent with your claimed objective system? And how can others condemn individual’s behavior given such inherent relativism and subjectivism? This is all part of my moral argument, not the argument for meaning.

Simply because the objectivity of morality refers the universality of its normativity, yet this requires, of course, that it is in fact normative for us — there has to be some sense in which we commit an error of practical reason by being immoral. As practical reason is just the sort of reason that guides our attempts to realize our ends, this means that ultimately objective morality comes down to “it is practically irrational for all people to be immoral, as this compromises their own interests”.

The difference here from subjectivism or relativism is that these positions do not hold that it is always practically irrational to obey a set of  moral norms. A subjectivist would hold, for example, that if one person’s inclination is to commit murder and another’s inclination is to abhor murder, then neither commits any error at all — anymore than they would commit an error by disagreeing over favourite ice cream flavours. The objectivist, on the other hand, says that one of these people is definitely committing an error, and thus that one is really rationally (and thus objectively) wrong. Both views share a basis in the desires of people; the difference is that the objectivist introduces an external criterion (practical reason) and says that this applies to all people regardless of their peculiar idiosyncracies.

Differently put: the objectivist derives morality from desires, sentiments, or needs common to all human beings — those which are in us simply because we are human. The subjectivist either says that such desires, etc. do not exist, or denies that their fulfillment always makes any particular sort of behaviour practically irrational.

If it’s just that you don’t currently understand how atheistic ethics are justified, then your claim is far too strong.

Well, of course that is what I am seeking to learn by engaging in this thread with three different correspondents. I went off on the sub-topic of abortion, but thus far, I have not seen it justified by anyone here. Personally, I consider that to be the “morally absurd outcome” of atheist or secular ethics (which is why I mention it so much; also because I think it is self-evidently wrong; at least in the later stages). That is where secularist ethics leads, when followed through consistently: to the “culture of death.” But the value and goodness of life, is, I think, a fundamental assumption of any ethical system, is it not? So I see a conflict, and absurdity there.

Many, if not most, secular people hold that abortion is permissible, but this is not the same as holding that this view is a necessary consequence of secular ethics. You need to argue the latter. Also, you present abortion as a reductio ad absurdum, but you are simply assuming that this is an absurd consequence. This is hardly compelling, since naturally there is much controversy over whether abortion is wrong — you’d need to resolve that controversy before your argument even gets off the ground.

Again, the Christian system resolves this problem: life is sacred, because human beings are made in the image of God, and possess an eternal soul. Abortion is wrong on this basis: it is ultimately an affront against God, the Creator of all (as all murder is). There is no question here such as that which comes up in war or police actions, where force becomes necessary to protect the innocent; even whole societies and cultures, as it were. It is simply an innocent child trying to make it to the world outside its mother’s womb without being torn limb from limb.

The issue of abortion is not settled by any ethical theory on the market, including yours. It is a tenet of many Christian organizations that abortion is wrong, but this does not derive logically from DCT itself.

The reason for this is that the most basic ethical tenet relevant to abortion is “it is wrong to murder an innocent person”. This is not a tenet unique to DCT; it is a consequence of virtually every ethical theory around — and, on the more practical level, nobody disputes it. The question is simply whether or not a fetus is a person, and, if so, when they move from non-personhood to personhood. (At conception? After brain activity is measurable? At the second trimester?) This, in turn, is not an issue for ethical philosophy, but rather for metaphysics. Specifically, it is the issue of personal identity, which is the philosophical attempt to define the nature of persons and how personhood is contiguous over time.

Suppose you and I are considering a locked bank vault. This conversation follows:

M: I say that this vault cannot contain any Spanish doubloons.

D: What? How can you justify that?

M: Well, give me a justification of why there should be any Spanish doubloons in there.

D: Well… I suppose there might be any number of possible reasons. I can’t think of any I consider most plausible, though.

M: Aha! Therefore, since you have no account, my point remains: the vault cannot contain any Spanish doubloons.

Has “M”‘s logic here been sound? No. The failure to demonstrate that there are Spanish doubloons in the vault does not demonstrate that there cannot be; it just demonstrates that there’s no reason to think there are any. M’s fallacy is called, in formal terms, argumentum ad ignorantiam.

Similarly, what I often see apologists doing is the same thing with morality. “I say atheistic morality is absurd. You disagree? Well, then justify morality. You have no answer that satisfies me? Aha! Atheistic morality is absurd… QED.” This is precisely the same fallacy.

Not yet (if at all), because we have just begun to see what would justify atheist morality and how it can stand up to logical scrutiny, not simply name-calling. I need to see your replies to, e.g., the critiques of utilitarianism by Geisler [below]. We’ve just begun, as far as I am concerned.

Now, I’m not convinced that you mean to commit this fallacy here. But what is needed from you to justify your strong claim is your account of what, in atheism, reduces morality necessarily to absurdity.

I’ve stated much already, and will continue to, as we consider specific ethical questions. I have tried to make abortion a test case, but as I said, it hasn’t worked so far. One person even implied that my inquiries on that topic weren’t even sincere. So what can I do? You are welcome to pick a topic of your own which you think makes Christianity absurd (such as hell), but then we are back to Christianity, and I am trying to avoid that so we can stay on-topic.

Abortion is a pretty poor “test case” for a number of reasons. First, it is not ultimately an ethical issue, but rather a metaphysical one — i.e., it is not an issue that can be resolved by ethical philosophy alone, and the quintessentially ethical components of the controversy aren’t really disagreed upon by either side. Second, there is no necessary position on abortion implied by nontheistic ethics in general. Different theories, on this issue and any other, will yield different conclusions. Third, I suspect that this issue is so inherently loaded that it is virtually impossible to discuss it dispassionately. It lends itself to too much rhetoric and invective.

Nor is there really such a thing as an alternative test case, because different nontheistic ethical theories imply different positions on issues. For example, Kantianism implies that lying is always wrong, whereas utilitarianism would imply that it is sometimes justified.

If something is wrong, it is wrong, regardless of whether anyone has the power to back up their judgment with force.

Well, that is an absolutistic system, and I need to know you arrive at that, and I will have a ton of questions for you, all along the way. :-)

That’s simply the nature of objective morality. Unless of course objective morality were nothing more than “whatever is backed up by force is right”… but I don’t think either of us subscribe to that view. Hope not, anyhow.

Of course not, but you have given no “explanation.” You have simply stated that “what’s wrong is wrong,” which gets us nowhere and resolves nothing. I assume you know this is no argument, so I won’t accuse you of circular reasoning. :-) I wanna know why you think this, and you are not helping me much to understand, so far.

This particular paragraph wasn’t meant as an argument, it was simply stating that the scenario you described obtains if objective morality is true.

Right and wrong serve as ways of judging others, but this is not the main point of morality; the main point is to give us the ability to exercise correct judgment with regard to our own behaviour.

This means little by itself, so I’ll let it pass.

If we conceive of justice in a retributive sense, then Hitler’s crimes going unpunished would indeed be a horrible thing. But how does even this make morality futile? It doesn’t render moral value meaningless (indeed, it assumes that moral value is meaningful).

Actually, it has more to do directly with existential purpose, and a feeling of futility of life and the universe, that such things can occur, and that there is no felt “justice” to make them right. So we licked the Nazis’ and put an end to it. Great (thank God), but how does that bring justice to the 6 million Jews and many thousands of others who perished in the camps and in battle?

It doesn’t give them justice at all, supposing that by justice we mean revenge/retribution. Would this suck? Yes! Does it mean that life is completely futile and useless? Only if there is nothing in life that is worthwhile enough to justify it for individuals. But I say there is enough in life; there’s enough for me, and evidently there’s enough for all the other people in the world who don’t believe in God. Moreover, I say that things can be better than they are.

So you admit that there is no justice for the 6 million Jews and others who perished in the camps and the war. In the Christian view there certainly is, because there is the Judgment and the sentence of damnation for evil persons. And I know this is not an argument (which is on other grounds). I’m simply explaining how we view the world in terms of ultimate justice and meaning, and seeking your alternative system of making sense of such monstrous evils as Naziism and Stalinism.

I admitted that there is no ultimate retribution for them, yes. Of course, there was some degree of retribution, since Hitler was defeated.

It doesn’t mean there is no reason to be moral, because if morality is truly objective, then morality already is normative for us. All it would imply is that the universe is not a perfect place.

The epistemological basis of this “objective” morality you refer to, under atheist premises, is what I am very interested in.

Hopefully I’ve given some information on this above. Again, the basis of nontheistic theories of objective morality is essentially practical reason and human nature.

And my point is precisely that these theories are impracticable, if carried through consistently. To the extent that they are able to be carried out with a fair degree of happiness and harmony, I contend that Christian notions and/or the Natural Law have been smuggled in, unbeknownst to the practitioners.

Wouldn’t this imply, if true, that no non-Christian or non-theistic society could ever have happiness and harmony? But that’s not true, is it?

E.g., in the American legal system, which seems to have worked pretty well, natural law and a Creator was assumed from the outset. Christian morality was casually assumed to form the backdrop of jurisprudence (though differences in particulars existed, of course).

The actual extent to which American law is influenced by Christianity is always hotly debated. I myself am no expert (nor need I be, I suppose, since I’m Canadian). There seem to be good arguments both ways. On the one hand, the USA is clearly predominately Christian, and always has been. On the other hand, many of the founding fathers were of a deistic bent. Who knows. All Americans are slightly nuts anyhow, if you ask me. But that’s okay, since we Canadians are all drunks. ;)

The idea is that objective moral imperatives derive their normativity from some kind of basic, natural human drive or sentiment, and their universality from reason. Lots of detail has been given on this previously… where would you like more detail, exactly?

“If there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life; and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this one.” -Albert Camus

A false dichotomy, of course, and therefore philosophically silly and insubstantial. Pie in the sky is irresponsible and dumb, but then I would contend that “this life only” is arguably equally unbalanced and shortsighted. The proper view is that this life is infinitely valuable, and to be lived responsibly to the fullest, and that we also have the next life to look forward to, where the justice of God will be fully confronted. So the “super-pious,” head-in-the-sand buffoon has a similar problem to the atheist, whereas the thoughtful, biblical Christian has a “normal” view. :-) I don’t mean to sound insulting; I’m just making an argument. I don’t think this has ever occurred to me before.

The most general answer is that atheists find hope and meaning in what is good about their existence.

One must define that good and determine the ultimate rationale for doing
it.

What is good about an individual’s existence, in this sense of “good”, is just whatever the individual finds to be good. Here we’re no longer talking about objective moral value, but subjective value simpliciter.

Exactly, and now you’re getting to the heart of the matter, as I see it. You just admitted (as far as I can tell) that “good” is relative to the individual. How, then, can there be an objective standard of “good” applied to all?

You are mixing up two issues. I agree that there is an objective standard of moral goodness, but “good” in the sense of “making life worth living” is another issue altogether. What is morally good is whatever we are obligated to do; what is good in the latter sense is just whatever moves us to keep on living rather than going mad and committing suicide.

By what standard do we decide what is good for everyone to do (what obligates them)?

It depends on the moral theory. A moral theory which derives from the desire of all people to avoid suffering, for example, would say that this obligates us (via practical reason) to a certain kind of conduct. (This is what contractualism, and probably utilitarianism, do… although in vastly different ways, of course).

And of course a host of troublesome examples now leap to the fore. Hitler thought the Holocaust was good. Stalin thought the starvation of the Ukrainians was good. Corrupt Crusaders in the Middle Ages thought slaughtering women and children was good. Timothy McVeigh thought blowing up a building and killing 168 people was good. Terrorists think blowing up cars in crowded market places is good. The American government (and most of its people) thought annihilating civilians in two entire Japanese cities by nuclear bombs was good. America thought slavery was good (and later institutional racism and discrimination). Pedophiles think molesting children is good. Etc.

How do we resolve this inherent relativism? The Aztecs thought human sacrifice was good; the Catholic Spaniards thought it was a hideous evil. How do we resolve such conflicts? Was Aztec sacrifice good or evil (or neither)? And if the latter, how do we convince someone of a different culture that what they are doing is evil? Of course it had a religious basis, so we also have to convince the people that this religion has gone awry somewhere along the line and may perhaps be a false religion. As it was, mass conversions in Mexico (perhaps the most remarkable Christian revival in the history of the world) solved that problem demographically.

Maybe the easiest way to make the point is like this. Suppose someone says, “I believe that the world, as it is, is completely and utterly perfect and joyful. I also believe that everyone attains everlasting happiness after death. Now, Christians believe that the world as it is is at least often horrible, and that many people will be in pain for eternity. This is unendurable.” How would you reply to this?

I would say that only a nutcase could ever say that about the world. That would be sufficient to dismiss the view.

But as you’re well aware, a lot of people conclude as much about Christianity.

I’m still awaiting a vision superior to Christianity, both in terms of truth and existential meaning.

You’re missing the point. The point is, for you, the Candide-like theist is a nutcase, and his supposed justification for existential meaning is a pipe dream. You seem to think this is enough to dismiss that view out of hand. Why, then, cannot the atheist — who thinks Christianity is in error, and its notions of existential meaning are pipe dreams — do the same with your view?

Obviously, if one truly believed that everything that happened in this world were pure bliss, then there would be no need for punishment, and (presuming one truly believed this) one would always be happy.

Yes, this is the view of the insane asylum (at least of the drugged-up ones).

Obviously, the answer for you would be that this view is false.

Hopefully, it is for you too. LOL

But if that is a sufficient reply, then the atheist already has a sufficient one for you, too: he believes Christianity is false.

But that is another discussion, isn’t it? Again, I am trying to understand your rationale for the most important, fundamental issues that all human beings face: Who am I? Why am I here? What is the purpose of life? Is there life after death? What is right and wrong? What is justice? How does one end injustice? What is love? What is truth? Etc.

You keep saying you want to understand where atheists are coming from, and I’m trying to do that with an illustration. The illustration is sketched around Christianity simply because that is your view, and therefore it will hopefully be easier for you to see the point.

And it doesn’t become less false simply because it proposes things that would be nice if they were true; and more to the point, your own life doesn’t become unendurable just because such a view exists. I mean, it would be great if human beings could all fly, but this is no reason to believe that they can.

This is the atheist’s reply to the Christian as well. Assuming a retributive view of justice, would it be great if there were an ultimate judge to back it up? Sure (although I personally wouldn’t see God, as often characterized, as any kind of perfect judge). Would it be great if, after a life of mixed suffering and joy, there were eternal joy waiting for us? Sure! But this doesn’t mean that life is unlivable without such beliefs.

But again, that is not my argument. I’m not saying, “believe our version of reality because it makes more sense and will make you happier and have more purpose!” I’m saying, “assume that all this afterlife and God business is false and untrue; now tell me how purpose, hope, and meaning is constructed in such an atheistic worldview.”

But imagine that our “loony theist” described above levelled the same argument against you. How would you convince him?

That’s another discussion. If we keep switching over to Christianity, this will go nowhere. And I will have to conclude that you can offer me no answers to my questions. If you have no answers, simply admit it. I will respect that. I don’t have ultimate or comprehensive, totally explanatory answers to the problem of evil, either, and I consider it the most troubling objection to Christianity. But then again, I don’t believe I can figure everything out in the first place, whether there is a God or not, so I don’t lose sleep over it.

The point is that I don’t see what sort of answer can theoretically satisfy you. You want me to tell you how it is that the meaning we can subjectively find in life can be enough to keep us from going mad, assuming there is no God. But how is it possible to give an account of that that will be meaningful for you, when you clearly cannot understand how anything other than Christianity could suffice?

So, what I’m asking you to do is exercise your imagination, and imagine that someone is asking YOU for an account of how your worldview can possibly give you enough hope, meaning, etc. How would you go about answering them? If you can tell me that, then maybe I can see what kind of answer will satisfy you.

Alternatively, if all you want is a list of what I personally consider meaningful and valuable, okay; I don’t see that this will be of any help, but okay. I find value in intellectual pursuits. In recreation. In art and music — I love classic blues, among other things, and play blues guitar (badly!). In my family. In my friends. In my girlfriend. In travel. In the Sopranos (damn, I love that show). Etc., etc., etc. These things, and others, are both enjoyable and meaningful for me.

At some point, you’d just have to say that the world you do believe in is meaningful and hopeful enough for you.

Why (for the atheist)? Is your view simply existentialism, where one believes whatever they want, so as to achieve “meaningfulness”? That would be no better than the pie-in-the-sky which atheists so despise, of course. It simply substitutes pie-in-the-head (no pun intended).

No; I’m not sure where you got that from. I was simply saying that there is a limit to how much one can justify purely subjective matters.

For example, I can’t understand why on earth anyone would buy plain vanilla ice cream when other flavours are available. Yet people do. Suppose I were to demand of them some justification for this: “how is plain old vanilla good enough for you?” How could they answer me? Ultimately, they’d have to say that it just is good enough for them.

I’m not sure how atheists in general would reply, but I’d say that there just is no ultimate purpose of life and the universe.

That’s honest; thanks. But do you think this dire conclusion has negative implications for objective morality, as I do?

It would have negative implications for a teleological theory of morality — i.e., one formulated around the notion of purpose — but that’s about it. Remember, morality is about ways we are obligated to behave. Meaning, hopefulness, etc. are about what gets us out of bed in the morning.

Life, or the universe, having a purpose would seem to imply that it was created with a purpose; and, obviously, I don’t believe in a creator (much less a purposive one).

Precisely.

But this does seem to me to be besides the point. Suppose there was such an ultimate purpose. Whose purpose would this be?

I’m asking you, according to your view.

Well, the creator’s, of course; not necessarily our own.

The Christian outlook is fairly well-known.

(Of course, it could always be that we are somehow programmed to share the creator’s purposes…

Yes, of course.

but this would seem to contradict the usual theistic notion of free will).

No; it is simply how we are “wired,” as to ultimate questions and “orientation,” so to speak. We still have free will to act upon the divinely-caused noble impulses or to rebel and go by our own evil impulses. Human beings are very curious mixtures of both great evil and great capacity for good and love. This is another thing that the Christian view explains far better than any other I have seen.

Atheists always have to chalk evil up to environment, because they don’t look at it in metaphysical, ontological, or spiritual terms. So McVeigh had a Bircher for a father; Hitler was done in by his anti-Semitism; Stalin by his lust for power, the killers at Columbine High School by the availability of guns and right-wing fanaticism, etc., and what-not. Christians say that all people are capable of great evil or great good, depending on the courses of action they take, and how they respond to God’s graces. Environment is a factor, but not the sole or overwhelmingly primary factor. But then, I digress as well. :-)

No, you’re getting morality and meaning mixed up again. We were talking about purpose, in the sense of “my life has some purpose for me to work towards”. Now, suppose that God has some sort of purpose for us. This, in itself, is not a purpose we hold, just one God holds. It could be the case that we all naturally share God’s purposes — say, redemption with God himself — but this would be the same as saying that nobody ever has other, stronger impulses. This is both untrue, and, if true, would contradict free will (since we would be unable to do anything except what God’s purposes suggest).

As regards the issue of being able to consistently maintain one’s sanity, avoid complete existential despair, etc., the only thing that matters is that we find sufficient meaning in the universe ourselves.

How does an atheist do that?

By finding the things that give him or her hope, happiness, purpose, etc. You find it in religion; atheists find it elsewhere. (Or most do, at any rate. I keep forgetting that there are even atheist-friendly religions, like Unitarian Universalism and some forms of Buddhism or even Taoism).

It doesn’t matter, as far as this goes, whether or not it also happens to be the purpose and meaning of any creator. If playing guitar were alone sufficient to give my life meaning, for example, then it would be a valid “meaning of life” for me in this context.
*

Continue on to Part Two 

2017-08-16T14:07:47-04:00

AssemblyLine

Workers on the first moving assembly line put together magnetos and flywheels for 1913 Ford autos in Highland Park, Michigan [public domain / Wikimedia Commons]

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 (3-23-06)

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 This is loosely based on an exchange with a Catholic. The words of the usual criticisms heard in this regard will be in blue.

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Apologetics shouldn’t be a full-time profession or primary wage-earning income. 

Why should the apologetic profession be any different than any other? Does anyone poke their nose into anyone else’s business, asking what they do for a living, and what they do with all their money? I don’t know what anyone else does, and I really don’t care, as long as it is worthy and honorable work (as most work is).

It’s not a real job. You could do it on the side, though, as a supplement.

An apologist doesn’t have a “real job”? On what basis does someone come to that conclusion? A “real job,” seems to me, is something someone does (as long as it is not immoral, of course) which brings in recompense, on which they can live. Period. End of sentence. If Scott Hahn or Karl Keating or Pat Madrid or any other apologist (including myself) have important information to offer, in terms of education and helping Catholics better understand and defend (and perhaps also live) their faith, why should they not do this full-time?

Every other profession expects people to work full-time. But suddenly, when it comes to this, it is somehow a bad thing for someone to devote their full attention and energies to it? Why??!! We are simply exercising the gifts and the calling that God gave us. If we do it full-time then we have to make a living somehow. So we write books and give talks. Why anyone would have a problem with that truly mystifies me.

It’s as if we have to be ashamed and embarrassed doing what we do, as if it is of little importance and only a last resort. I’m not ashamed at all; not in the slightest. But I am ashamed to see that so many Catholics have an irrational, groundless hostility to apologetics. I’ve seen the reasons given for this over and over, but I don’t believe I have ever come across one that made any sense or could hold any water under even mild scrutiny.

It’s an ego-driven mentality. 

Again, why must it be “ego” and what is this “mentality,” pray tell? A “mentality” of doing what God calls one to do is a bad thing? A “mentality” of desiring to better equip Catholics with the intellectual aspect of the faith and to help them defend what they believe is a bad thing? A “mentality” that is happy to assist people in becoming convinced of the truth of Catholicism and to enter joyfully into the Church is a bad thing and undoubtedly indicative of a huge ego?

If a conversion story helps others convert and grow in their faith, and a person is willing to share it over and over, why is that wrong? I really don’t get this. I have a friend, [the late] Alex Jones, who was a pastor (from Detroit, where I am from). He became convinced of Catholicism, and so he lost his job. He had to make a living. This is no small problem for pastors who convert. It so happens he was able to give his conversion story and put it out on tapes, to enable him to bring home the bacon. Now he is a deacon (or soon to be).

Why is this wrong? Some folks act as if it is a Faustian bargain to tell one’s conversion story or (heaven forbid) write a book. I get about $1.75 per book that I sell. So how many books do I have to sell to become greedy?

The Catholic market is very small. The other day I saw three of my books in the Catholic Theology Top 50 at amazon, but I can’t live off the royalties I get for those books. One of them doesn’t even pay royalties. I received a one-time fee. I didn’t get one red cent for my story in Surprised by Truth, either. I agreed to it; that was fine (and I got a lot of “name recognition” from it), but I use that as an example to show that one doesn’t get rich doing apologetics. Some apologists are doing very well (for various reasons), but there are also many who make very little, and work just as hard or even harder.

Catholic apologist speakers make outrageous demands on their fees, 

How does one determine what is outrageous? Are, e.g., athletes’ salaries are outrageous too? 15 million dollars a year to play a boy’s game? So maybe we should stop watching. But a Catholic sharing their faith and giving testimony making maybe $1000-2000 for a talk is unconscionable and scandalous?

Apologetics only goes so far . . . 

It’s not like it is either/or. Apologetics aims to give people the tools to be confident in what they believe, because they can fully accept it with their mind and rational faculties, as well as with their heart, and in faith. This is invaluable. It prevents people from being vulnerable to spiritual or theological attack and possibly falling away from the faith. After all, where are folks most likely to lose their faith? In college, of course. Part of that is peer pressure and hormones, but it is also in large part because of the unyielding hostile ideas being taught and soaked up like a sponge.

All of us can always grow more in this respect; there is no reason to stop. But different folks like different things. In any event, it isn’t an either/or scenario. Apologetics need not be counter at all to spirituality, various devotions, love of the liturgy and the liturgical calendar, reading about saints and miracles, acts of mercy and charity, prayer, fasting, a wholesome family life, etc.

No one said apologetics was the be-all and end-all. In fact, I challenge anyone to find even one real apologist (published, credentialed) who ever stated such a foolish thing. It’s elementary, after all, for anyone to figure out that “apologetics isn’t everything.” I often find that people argue things because of projection, based on their own odyssey, thinking that everyone else needs to learn the same lessons that they did. Just speculation, . . .

A healthy religious view does need an accompanying apologetics, because that provides the crucial rationale for why the thing is believed, and the basis for it to speak truth to culture, so that the Church can build it up and bring about spiritual revival.

Evangelization is greater than apologetics. 

I don’t feel a need to classify everything, better or worse. All these things are important aspects of the Catholic faith, and interconnected. I do both of these. It just depends on the situation.

In order to effectively evangelize today, however, more times than not one will need to be pretty well acquainted with apologetics, because it’ll be necessary with the first “hard question” one is asked. Not everyone will jump for joy at having heard the Catholic message, and embrace it, no questions asked. They will want answers to many questions. That’s where we come in. Apologetics precedes conversion many times.

I know relatively little about the lecture-circuit because I don’t do speaking, but I did do some research a while back after anti-Catholic Eric Svendsen made the charge that we Catholic apologists are so greedy because we charge speaking fees, whereas he does that for free. Of course, he didn’t mention the fact (that he had stated elsewhere) that he was so independently wealthy that he could easily fork out $100,000 for a silly challenge he made to Catholics one time. So I made a comparison of speaking fees. It was most enlightening.

If proper catechesis was being done, apologists would not be so popular.

Probably so (as a matter of overlap in causality), yet this exhibits a confusion of category. Catechesis teaches the “what” of faith; apologetics deals with “why we believe what we believe”. So it doesn’t follow that apologetics would be less needed as good catechetics increased, any more than we should eat less apples in direct proportion to how many more oranges we eat.

If parents were doing a better job teaching the faith, we wouldn’t need as many apologists, either.

This doesn’t follow. Not every parent can teach decent apologetic skills (and my wife home-schools our four children). It is a specialized field. Therefore, most obviously it is good to have people who specialize in it, so that they can share what they have learned with others, saving them the trouble of doing it.

So, for example, anyone could go to a free paper of mine on the Internet (I have posted over 2100), and find some elaborate information that could literally save them hours of research. This very day I spent about four hours writing two pages on the deuterocanon for my next book. It’s packed with information, itself drawn from several papers of mine that, combined, would represent probably 40-50 hours of work.

When someone reads this and takes in the information, they are better equipped in that regard. My 50 hours of labor can save them a bunch of time. Division of labor . . . this is how the world works. Now the trick is to obtain the time to spend 50 hours studying the issue of the deuterocanon.

Here’s a news flash for critics of apologists!: it takes time. And it does even for one like myself who is known (in some circles, notoriously so) for being prolific and a very fast writer. And time is money. The time I spend doing that takes away time I could be at some other job making money. If folks think an apologist is doing helpful work, then they think it is worth it to support him financially, so he can devote himself more so to the important work. But our “product” has no monetary value; it has only spiritual value. Our society doesn’t value things other than products and wealth-producing techniques, and so the type of work I do is not considered “real” work. Hence, many pick up that secular mentality, saying we should get a “real job.”

I could have done anything I wanted in my life. I had a 3.5 GPA in college. I could have learned anything and gone into any number of lucrative fields. But I chose to do this because I felt God’s calling to do so (way back in 1981). It’s a sacrifice, and there are many trials and tribulations. Most folks have never seen one-tenth of the lies and smears and epithets I put up with from critics. This isn’t easy work. Not everyone can do it. So it is beyond silly to see people making an argument that we do this for greed and fame and pride purposes.

Related reading:

Michael Voris’ Critique of Catholic Answers Salaries

How Much Money Should Apologists Make?: Our Society’s Low Estimate of the Worth of Spiritual and Theological Work 

Michael Voris vs. “Financially Compromised” Apologists

On Apologists’ Income: “High” and Low (My Case)

On Catholic Answers Cruises / Apologetics & “Business”
*****

2017-08-08T14:57:33-04:00

Augustine9

St. Augustine, by Antonio Rodríguez (1636-1691) [public domain / Wikimedia Commons]

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(8-1-03)

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For preliminaries concerning my methodology and the burden of proof for showing if a Church Father believed in sola Scriptura, see my paper, Church Fathers & Sola Scriptura. St. Augustine’s words will be in blue.

***

Anti-Catholic evangelical apologist Jason Engwer produced the following words of St. Augustine, to “prove” that he believed in sola Scriptura:

In order to leave room for such profitable discussions of difficult questions, there is a distinct boundary line separating all productions subsequent to apostolic times from the authoritative canonical books of the Old and New Testaments. The authority of these books has come down to us from the apostles through the successions of bishops and the extension of the Church, and, from a position of lofty supremacy, claims the submission of every faithful and pious mind….In the innumerable books that have been written latterly we may sometimes find the same truth as in Scripture, but there is not the same authority. Scripture has a sacredness peculiar to itself. (Reply to Faustus the Manichaean, 11:5)

This is self-evident: Scripture is inspired; other writings are not. Jason overlooks St. Augustine’s espousal of apostolic succession and the authority of the Church, which suggest that the great Father’s view is exactly as the Catholic Church’s view always has been. So the refutation to the argument is right within the “argument” itself. And elsewhere in the same work we find more of the same:

. . . if you acknowledge the supreme authority of Scripture, you should recognise that authority which from the time of Christ Himself, through the ministry of His apostles, and through a regular succession of bishops in the seats of the apostles, has been preserved to our own day throughout the whole world, with a reputation known to all. (Reply to Faustus the Manichaean, 33:9, NPNF I, IV:345)*

The Lord, indeed, had told His disciples to carry a sword; but He did not tell them to use it. But that after this sin Peter should become a pastor of the Church was no more improper than that Moses, after smiting the Egyptian, should become the leader of the congregation. (Reply to Faustus the Manichean, 22:70; in NPNF I, IV:299)

The authority of our books [Scriptures], which is confirmed by agreement of so many nations, supported by a succession of apostles, bishops, and councils, is against you. (Reply to Faustus the Manichaean, 13:5, NPNF I, IV:201)

Jason produced another “proof” of his special pleading as regards St. Augustine:

Every sickness of the soul hath in Scripture its proper remedy. (Expositions on the Psalms, 37:2)

Of course. We would fully expect this, but it proves nothing one way or the other, with regard to our present dispute. It is merely a statement of the material sufficiency of Scripture, in matters of spirituality and the soul.

Where does one begin with St. Augustine, concerning his high regard for Tradition, Scripture, and Church (it’s like trying to count the number of grains of salt in a full saltshaker)? I shall now compile several of his more noteworthy and irrefutable statements (categorized by general subject), and also note the opinions of scholars:

TRADITION (BOTH WRITTEN AND ORAL)

As to those other things which we hold on the authority, not of Scripture, but of tradition, and which are observed throughout the whole world, it may be understood that they are held as approved and instituted either by the apostles themselves, or by plenary Councils, whose authority in the Church is most useful, . . .For often have I perceived, with extreme sorrow, many disquietudes caused to weak brethren by the contentious pertinacity or superstitious vacillation of some who, in matters of this kind, which do not admit of final decision by the authority of Holy Scripture, or by the tradition of the universal Church. (Letter to Januarius, 54, 1, 1; 54, 2, 3; cf. NPNF I, I:301)

I believe that this practice [of not rebaptizing heretics and schismatics] comes from apostolic tradition, just as so many other practices not found in their writings nor in the councils of their successors, but which, because they are kept by the whole Church everywhere, are believed to have been commanded and handed down by the Apostles themselves. (On Baptism, 2, 7, 12; from William A. Jurgens, editor and translator, The Faith of the Early Fathers, 3 volumes, Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1970, vol. 3: 66; cf. NPNF I, IV:430)

. . . the custom, which is opposed to Cyprian, may be supposed to have had its origin in apostolic tradition, just as there are many things which are observed by the whole Church, and therefore are fairly held to have been enjoined by the apostles, which yet are not mentioned in their writings. (On Baptism, 5,23:31, in NPNF I, IV:475)

The Christians of Carthage have an excellent name for the sacraments, when they say that baptism is nothing else than “salvation” and the sacrament of the body of Christ nothing else than “life.” Whence, however, was this derived, but from that primitive, as I suppose, and apostolic tradition, by which the Churches of Christ maintain it to be an inherent principle, that without baptism and partaking of the supper of the Lord it is impossible for any man to attain either to the kingdom of God or to salvation and everlasting life? (On Forgiveness of Sins and Baptism, 1:34, in NPNF I, V:28)

[F]rom whatever source it was handed down to the Church – although the authority of the canonical Scriptures cannot be brought forward as speaking expressly in its support. (Letter to Evodius of Uzalis, Epistle 164:6, in NPNF I, I:516)

The custom of Mother Church in baptizing infants [is] certainly not to be scorned, nor is it to be regarded in any way as superfluous, nor is it to be believed that its tradition is anything except Apostolic. (The Literal Interpretation of Genesis, 10,23:39, in William A. Jurgens, editor and translator, The Faith of the Early Fathers, 3 volumes, Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1970, vol. 3: 86)

THE “THREE-LEGGED STOOL” OF CATHOLIC AUTHORITY: BIBLE, TRADITION, AND CHURCH

God has placed this authority first of all in his Church. (Explanations of the Psalms, Tract 103:8, PL 37:520-521, in Yves Congar, Tradition and Traditions: An Historical and Theological Essay, New York: Macmillan, 1967, 392)
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But those reasons which I have here given, I have either gathered from the authority of the church, according to the tradition of our forefathers, or from the testimony of the divine Scriptures, or from the nature itself of numbers, and of similitudes. No sober person will decide against reason, no Christian against the Scriptures, no peaceable person against the church. (On the Trinity, 4,6:10; NPNF I, III:75)

It is obvious; the faith allows it; the Catholic Church approves; it is true. (Sermon 117, 6)

Will you, then, so love your error, into which you have fallen through adolescent overconfidence and human weakness, that you will separate yourself from these leaders of Catholic unity and truth, from so many different parts of the world who are in agreement among themselves on so important a question, one in which the essence of the Christian religion involved . . . ? (Against Julian I:7,34; in Robert B. Eno, Teaching Authority in the Early Church, Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1984, 136)

And thus a man who is resting upon faith, hope, and love, and who keeps a firm hold upon these, does not need the Scriptures except for the purpose of instructing others. Accordingly, many live without copies of the Scriptures, even in solitude, on the strength of these three graces. (On Christian Doctrine, I, 39:43, in NPNF I, II:534)

APOSTOLIC SUCCESSION

And if any one seek for divine authority in this matter, though what is held by the whole Church, and that not as instituted by Councils, but as a matter of invariable custom, is rightly held to have been handed down by apostolical authority, still we can form a true conjecture of the value of the sacrament of baptism in the case of infants. (On Baptism, 4, 24, 32; NPNF I, IV:461)*

It is not to be doubted that the dead are aided by prayers of the holy church, and by the salutary sacrifice, and by the alms, which are offered for their spirits . . . For this, which has been handed down by the Fathers, the universal church observes. (Sermon 172, in Joseph Berington and John Kirk, The Faith of Catholics, three volumes, London: Dolman, 1846; I: 439)

THE CHURCH’S NECESSARY ROLE IN INTERPRETATION OF SCRIPTURE

To be sure, although on this matter, we cannot quote a clear example taken from the canonical Scriptures, at any rate, on this question, we are following the true thought of Scriptures when we observe what has appeared good to the universal Church which the authority of these same Scriptures recommends to you; thus, since Holy Scripture cannot be mistaken, anyone fearing to be misled by the obscurity of this question has only to consult on this same subject this very Church which the Holy Scriptures point out without ambiguity. (Against Cresconius I:33; in Robert B. Eno, Teaching Authority in the Early Church, Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1984, 134)*

[L]et the reader consult the rule of faith which he has gathered from the plainer passages of Scripture, and from the authority of the Church . . . (On Christian Doctrine, 3,2:2, NPNF I, II:557)

THE PRIMACY OF THE ROMAN SEE AND PAPAL SUPREMACY AND JURISDICTION

Let us not listen to those who deny that the Church of God is able to forgive all sins. They are wretched indeed, because they do not recognize in Peter the rock and they refuse to believe that the keys of heaven, lost from their own hands, have been given to the Church. (Christian Combat, 31:33; from William A. Jurgens, editor and translator, The Faith of the Early Fathers, 3 volumes, Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1970, vol. 3: 51)

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For if the lineal succession of bishops is to be taken into account, with how much more certainty and benefit to the Church do we reckon back till we reach Peter himself, to whom, as bearing in a figure the whole Church, the Lord said: ‘Upon this rock will I build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it !’ The successor of Peter was Linus, and his successors in unbroken continuity were these: – Clement, Anacletus, Evaristus, Alexander, Sixtus, Telesphorus, Iginus, Anicetus, Pius, Soter, Eleutherius, Victor, Zephirinus, Calixtus, Urbanus, Pontianus, Antherus, Fabianus, Cornelius, Lucius, Stephanus, Xystus, Dionysius, Felix, Eutychianus, Gaius, Marcellinus, Marcellus, Eusebius, Miltiades, Sylvester, Marcus, Julius, Liberius, Damasus, and Siricius, whose successor is the present Bishop Anastasius. In this order of succession no Donatist bishop is found. (Letter to Generosus, 53:2, in NPNF I, I:298)

Among these [apostles] it was only Peter who almost everywhere was given privilege of representing the whole Church. It was in the person of the whole Church, which he alone represented, that he was privileged to hear, ‘To you will I give the keys of the kingdom of heaven’ (Mt 16:19)… Quite rightly too did the Lord after his resurrection entrust his sheep to Peter to be fed. It’s not, you see, that he alone among the disciples was fit to feed the Lord’s sheep; but when Christ speaks to one man, unity is being commended to us. And he first speaks to Peter, because Peter is first among the apostles. (Sermon 295:2-4, in John Rotelle, editor, The Works of St. Augustine – Sermons, 11 volumes, Part 3, New Rochelle: New City Press, 1993, 197-199)

Here is a passage in which Cyprian records what we also learn in holy Scripture, that the Apostle Peter, in whom the primacy of the apostles shines with such exceeding grace, was corrected by the later Apostle … I suppose that there is no slight to Cyprian in comparing him with Peter in respect to his crown of martyrdom; rather I ought to be afraid lest I am showing disrespect towards Peter. For who can be ignorant that the primacy of his apostleship is to be preferred to any episcopate whatever? (On Baptism 2:1,1, in NPNF I, IV:425-426)

For in the Catholic Church, not to speak of the purest wisdom, to the knowledge of which a few spiritual men attain in this life, so as to know it, in the scantiest measure, deed, because they are but men, . . . – not to speak of this wisdom, which you do not believe to be in the Catholic Church, there are many other things which most justly keep me in her bosom. The consent of peoples and nations keeps me in the Church; so does her authority, inaugurated by miracles, nourished by hope, enlarged by love, established by age. The succession of priests keeps me, beginning from the very seat of the Apostle Peter, to whom the Lord, after His resurrection, gave it in charge to feed His sheep, down to the present episcopate. And so, lastly, does the name itself of Catholic, which, not without reason, amid so many heresies, the Church has thus retained; so that, though all heretics wish to be called Catholics, yet when a stranger asks where the Catholic Church meets, no heretic will venture to point to his own chapel or house. Such then in number and importance are the precious ties belonging to the Christian name which keep a believer in the Catholic Church, as it is right they should, though from the slowness of our understanding, or the small attainment of our life, the truth may not yet fully disclose itself. But with you, where there is none of these things to attract or keep me, the promise of truth is the only thing that comes into play. Now if the truth is so clearly proved as to leave no possibility of doubt, it must be set before all the things that keep me in the Catholic Church; but if there is only a promise without any fulfillment, no one shall move me from the faith which binds my mind with ties so many and so strong to the Christian religion. (Against the Epistle of Manichaeus 4:5, in NPNF I, IV:130)

Perhaps you will read the gospel to me, and will attempt to find there a testimony to Manichaeus. But should you meet with a person not yet believing in the gospel, how would you reply to him were he to say, I do not believe? For my part, I should not believe the gospel except moved by the authority of the Catholic Church. So when those on whose authority I have consented to believe in the gospel tell me not to
believe in Manicheus, how can I but consent? (Against the Epistle of Manichaeus 5,6; in NPNF, IV:131)

My brothers and sisters, please share my anxiety and concern. Wherever you find such people, don’t keep quiet about them, don’t be perversely soft-hearted. No question about it, wherever you find such people, don’t keep quiet about them. Argue with them when they speak against grace, and if they persist, bring them to us. You see, there have already been two councils about this matter, and their decisions sent to the Apostolic See; from there rescripts have been sent back here. The case is finished; if only the error were finished too, sometime! So, let us all warn them to take notice of this, teach them to learn the lesson of it, pray for them to change their ideas. (Sermon 131, 10, in John Rotelle, editor, The Works of St. Augustine – Sermons, 11 volumes, Part 3, New Rochelle: New City Press, 1993, Vol. 4:322; the saying, “Rome has spoken; the case is finished” is a paraphrase of part of this sermon)

[H]e [Celestius] should yield his assent to the rescript of the Apostolic See which had been issued by his predecessor [Pope Innocent] of sacred memory. The accused man, however, refused to condemn the objections raised by the deacon, yet he did not dare to hold out against the letter of the blessed Pope Innocent. (On Original Sin, 8 [VII], in NPNF I, V:239)

This was thought to have been the case in him when he replied that he consented to the letters of Pope Innocent of blessed memory, in which all doubt about this matter was removed . . . [link]

[T]he words of the venerable Bishop Innocent concerning this matter to the Carthaginian Council … What could be more clear or more manifest than that judgment of the Apostolical See? (Against Two Letter of the Pelagians, 3:5, in NPNF I, V:393-394)

[T]he Catholic Church, by the mercy of God, has repudiated the poison of the Pelagian heresy. There is an account of the provincial Council of Carthage, written to Pope Innocent, and one of the Council of Numidia; and another, somewhat more detailed, written by five bishops, as well as the answer he [Pope Innocent] wrote to these three; likewise, the report to Pope Zosimus of the Council of Africa, and his answer which was sent to all the bishops of the world. (Letter to Valentine, Epistle 215, in Ludwig Schopp and Roy J. Defarri, editors, The Fathers of the Church, Washington D.C.: CUAP: 1948 – ,32:63-64)

. . . In these words of the Apostolic See the Catholic faith stands out as so ancient and so firmly established, so certain and so clear, that it would be wrong for a Christian to doubt it. (Letter to Optatus, Epistle 190, in Ludwig Schopp and Roy J. Defarri, editors, The Fathers of the Church, Washington D.C.: CUAP: 1948 – , 30:285-286)

And because of this it is unlikely that this case can be closed here while ill feelings and unavoidable necessity require that it be concluded by the judgment of the apostolic see. (Letter to Alpyius, Epistle 22:11, in Ludwig Schopp and Roy J. Defarri, editors, The Fathers of the Church, Washington D.C.: CUAP: 1948 – , 81:161)

Protestant Church historian Heiko Oberman notes concerning St. Augustine:

Augustine’s legacy to the middle ages on the question of Scripture and Tradition is a two-fold one. In the first place, he reflects the early Church principle of the coinherence of Scripture and Tradition. While repeatedly asserting the ultimate authority of Scripture, Augustine does not oppose this at all to the authority of the Church Catholic . . . The Church has a practical priority: her authority as expressed in the direction-giving meaning of commovere is an instrumental authority, the door that leads to the fullness of the Word itself.But there is another aspect of Augustine’s thought . . . we find mention of an authoritative extrascriptural oral tradition. While on the one hand the Church “moves” the faithful to discover the authority of Scripture, Scripture on the other hand refers the faithful back to the authority of the Church with regard to a series of issues with which the Apostles did not deal in writing. Augustine refers here to the baptism of heretics . . . (The Harvest of Medieval Theology, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, revised edition of 1967, 370-371)

J. N. D. Kelly, the great Anglican patristic scholar, wrote:

According to him [St. Augustine], the Church is the realm of Christ, His mystical body and His bride, the mother of Christians [Ep 34:3; Serm 22:9]. There is no salvation apart from it; schismatics can have the faith and sacraments . . . but cannot put them to a profitable use since the Holy Spirit is only bestowed in the Church [De bapt 4:24; 7:87; Serm ad Caes 6] . . .It goes without saying that Augustine identifies the Church with the universal Catholic Church of his day, with its hierarchy and sacraments, and with its centre at Rome . . . (Early Christian Doctrines, HarperSanFrancisco, revised 1978 edition, 412-413)

The three letters [Epistles 175-177] relating to Pelagianism which the African church sent to innocent I in 416, and of which Augustine was the draughtsman, suggested that he attributed to the Pope a pastoral and teaching authority extending over the whole Church, and found a basis for it in Scripture. (Ibid., 419)

According to Augustine [De doct. christ. 3,2], its [Scripture’s] doubtful or ambiguous passages need to be cleared up by ‘the rule of faith’; it was, moreover, the authority of the Church alone which in his eyes [ C. ep. Manich. 6: cf. de doct. christ. 2,12; c. Faust Manich, 22, 79] guaranteed its veracity. (Ibid., 47)

For Augustine the authority of ‘plenary councils’ was ‘most healthy’, [Ep. 54, 1] (Ibid., 48)

Protestant Church historian Philip Schaff comments on St. Augustine’s views of Scripture and Tradition:

Augustine, therefore, manifestly acknowledges a gradual advancement of the church doctrine, which reaches its corresponding expression from time to time through the general councils; but a progress within the truth, without positive error. for in a certain sense, as against heretics, he made the authority of Holy Scripture dependent on the authority of the catholic church, in his famous dictum against the Manichaean heretics: “I would not believe the gospel, did not the authority of the catholic church compel me.” . . . The Protestant church makes the authority of the general councils, and of all ecclesiastical tradition, depend on the degree of its conformity to the Holy Scriptures; while the Greek and Roman churches make Scripture and tradition coordinate. (History of the Christian Church, Vol. III: Nicene and Post-Nicene Christianity: A.D. 311-600, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1974; reproduction of 5th revised edition of 1910, Chapter V, section 66, “The Synodical System. The Ecumenical Councils,” pp. 344-345)
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He adopted Cyprian’s doctrine of the church, and completed it in the conflict with Donatism by transferring the predicates of unity, holiness, universality, exclusiveness and maternity, directly to the actual church of the time, which, with a firm episcopal organization, an unbroken succession, and the Apostles’ Creed, triumphantly withstood the eighty or the hundred opposing sects in the heretical catalogue of the day, and had its visible centre in Rome. (Ibid., Chapter X, section 180, “The Influence of Augustine upon Posterity and his Relation to Catholicism and Protestantism,” pp. 1019-1020)

The renowned Lutheran Church historian Jaroslav Pelikan concurs with this general assessment of St. Augustine’s views:

This authority of orthodox catholic Christendom . . . was so powerful as even to validate the very authority of the Bible . . . But between the authority of the Bible and the authority of the catholic church (which was present within, but was more than, the authority of its several bishops past and present) there could not in a real sense be any contradiction. Here one could find repose in “the resting place of authority,” [Bapt. 2.8.13] not in the unknown quantity of the company of the elect, but in the institution of salvation that could claim foundation by Christ and succession from the apostles. (The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine: Vol. 1 of 5: The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition: 100-600, Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1971, 303-304)*
*
Augustine, writing against the Donatists, had coined the formula, “the judgment of the whole world is reliable [securus judicat orbis terrarum].” [Parm. 3.4.24] Catholicity was a mark both of the true church and of the true doctrine, for these were inseparable. (Ibid., 334)

Finally, Catholic patristics scholar Agostino Trape sums up Augustine’s outlook on Scripture, Tradition, and Church:

I. Theological method. . . 1. The first principle is the strict adherence to the authority of the faith which, one in its origins, the authority of Christ (C. acad. 3,20,43) is expressed in Scripture, in tradition and in the church . . .

b) Augustine read the Scriptures in the church and according to tradition . . . he reminded the Donatists of the two qualities of Apostolic tradition: universality and antiquity (De bapt. 4,24,31). He replied to the Pelagians that it was necessary to hold as true that which tradition has passed on even if one does not succeed in explaining it (C. Iul. 6,5,11), because the Fathers “taught the church that which they learned in the church” (C. Iul. op. imp. 1, 117; cf. C. Iul. 2,10,34).

c) It is in fact the church which determines the canon of Scripture (De doct. chr. 2,7,12), which transmits tradition and interprets both of the above (De. Gen. ad litt. op. imp. 1,1), which settles controversies (De bapt. 2,4,5) and prescribes the regula fidei (De doct. chr. 3,1,2). Therefore, “I will rest secure in the church,” writes Augustine, “whatever difficulties arise” (De bapt. 3,2,2), because “God has established the doctrine of truth in the cathedra of unity” (Ep. 105,16) (in Johannes Quasten, Patrology, four volumes, Vol. IV: The Golden Age of Latin Patristic Literature From the Council of Nicea to the Council of Chalcedon, Allen, Texas: Christian Classics; division of Thomas More Publishing, no date, edited by Angelo di Berardino; translated by Placid Solari, 425-426)

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2019-08-27T14:17:36-04:00

Including Extensive Exegetical Analysis of Micah 5:2

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Wife Judy’s photograph of the spot where Jesus was born in Bethlehem (October 2014).

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This is my fourth and last installment of replies to atheist Jonathan MS Pearce‘ skeptical series, Debunking the Nativity. I have previously responded to his claims about the alleged mistranslation of “virgin” (Isaiah 7:14), supposed irreconcilable differences regarding the death of Herod the Great and biblical chronology, and the genealogies of Christ. Presently, I am responding to his paper, “To Bethlehem or Not to Bethlehem” (12-16-17). His words will be in blue.

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Through the announcements of the Bible itself, Jesus has to be born in Bethlehem or the prophecies are wrong, or indeed Jesus is invalidated as the true Messiah. Having said this, a case can be made for the fact that this Bethlehem prophecy may just be a contrived and poor reading of the Old Testament. We shall return to this later.

The Prophecies

So what are these prophecies? The main offending verse is Micah 5:2 which states:

“But as for you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,
Too little to be among the clans of Judah,
From you One will go forth for Me to be ruler in Israel.
His goings forth are from long ago,
From the days of eternity.”

Let us remind ourselves of how this fits in with what Luke says of Bethlehem (2:4):

Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David…

. . . The first issue with the Micah quote is that it is a mistranslation to claim that the Messiah must be born in Bethlehem since the context and the grammar actually mean that one should conclude, as D.F. Strauss in The Life of Jesus (1860, p. 159) does, as follows:

…the entire context show the meaning to be, not that the expected governor who was to come forth out of Bethlehem would actually be born in that city, but only that he would be a descendent of David, whose family sprang from Bethlehem.

So Matthew and Luke, in using this as a prophetic basis for establishing Davidic heritage, mistranslate the prophecy and feel that they need to get Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem so that Jesus could be born in the place so apparently prophesied.

David Strauss was a notorious theologically  liberal “higher critic” of Scripture (see a book that critiques work, by a contemporary). Let’s see how orthodox exegetes of Scripture comment upon Micah 5:2. For example, the 10-volume Commentary on the Old Testament by Karl Friedrich Keil (1807-1888) and Franz Delitzsch (1813-1890) states:

(Note: We must reject in the most unqualified manner the attempts that have been made by the Rabbins in a polemical interest, and by rationalistic commentators from a dread of miracles, to deprive the words of their deeper meaning, so as to avoid admitting that we have any supernatural prediction here, whether by paraphrasing “His goings forth” into “the going forth of His name” (we have this even in the Chaldee), or the eternal origin into an eternal predestination (Calv.), or by understanding the going forth out of Bethlehem as referring to His springing out of the family of David, which belonged to Bethlehem (Kimchi, Abarb., and all the later Rabbins and more modern Rationalists). According to this view, the olden time and the days of eternity would stand for the primeval family; and even if such a quid pro quo were generally admissible, the words would contain a very unmeaning thought, since David’s family was not older than any of the other families of Israel and Judah, whose origin also dated as far back as the patriarchal times, since the whole nation was descended from the twelve sons of Jacob, and thought them from Abraham. (See the more elaborate refutation of these views in Hengstenberg’s Christology, i. p. 486ff. translation, and Caspari’s Micha, p. 216ff.))

The announcement of the origin of this Ruler as being before all worlds unquestionably presupposes His divine nature; but this thought was not strange to the prophetic mind in Micah’s time, but is expressed without ambiguity by Isaiah, when he gives the Messiah the name of “the Mighty God” (Isaiah 9:5; see Delitzsch’s comm. in loc.). We must not seek, however, in this affirmation of the divine nature of the Messiah for the full knowledge of the Deity, as first revealed in the New Testament by the fact of the incarnation of God in Christ, and developed, for example, in the prologue to the Gospel of John. Nor can we refer the “goings forth” to the eternal proceeding of the Logos from God, as showing the inward relation of the Trinity within itself, because this word corresponds to the יצא of the first hemistich. As this expresses primarily and directly nothing more than His issuing from Bethlehem, and leaves His descent indefinite, מוצאתיו can only affirm the going forth from God at the creation of the world, and in the revelations of the olden and primeval times.

The compelling proof that Micah 5:2 was always regarded as a prophecy that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem comes from Jewish sources (before Christ) that concur with this judgment. Here we have recourse to the monumental work, Christology of the Old Testament and a Commentary on the Messianic Predictions, by E. W. Hengstenberg (translated by Theodore Myer; Edinburgh: T & T Clark, vol. 1 of 4, second edition, 1868). In his extraordinarily scholarly commentary on the passage in question, Hengstenberg states:

This History [of Jewish interpretation], as to its essential features, might, a priori, be sketched with tolerable certainty. From the nature of the case, we could scarcely expect that the Jews should have adopted views altogether erroneous as to the subject of the prophecy in question; for the Messiah appears in it, not in His humiliation, but in His glory—rich in gifts and blessings, and Pelagian self-delusion will, a priori, return an affirmative answer to the question as to whether one is called to partake in them. But, on the other hand, the prophecy contains a twofold ground of offence which had to be removed, and explained away at any expense. One of these, the eternity of the Messiah—which was in contradiction to the popular notions, and conceivable only from a knowledge of His Godhead—could not but exist at all times; while the second of these—the birth at Bethlehem—made its appearance, and exercised its influence, only after the birth of Christ. That this should be set aside, was demanded by two causes. First, there was the desire of depriving the Christians of the proof, which they derived from the birth at Bethlehem, for the proposition that He who had appeared was also He who was promised. . . .

1. The reference to the Messiah was, at all times, not the private opinion of a few scholars, but was publicly received, and acknowledged with perfect unanimity. As respects the time of Christ, this is obvious from Matt. ii. 5. According to that passage, the whole Sanhedrim, when officially interrogated as to the birth-place of the Messiah, supposed this explanation to be the only correct one. But if this proof required a corroboration, it might be derived from John vii. 41, 42. In that passage, several who erroneously supposed Christ to be a native of Galilee, objected to His being the Messiah on the ground that Scripture says: ὅτι ἐκ τοῦ σπέρματος Δαβὶδ καὶ ἀπὸ Βηθλεὲμ τῆς κώμης, ὅπον ἦν Δαβίδ, ὁ Χριστὸς ἔρχεται. But even after Christ had appeared, the interest in depriving the Christians at once of the arguments which, in their controversies, they derived from this passage, was not sufficiently strong to blind the Jews to the evident indications contained in this passage, or to induce them to deprive themselves of the sweet hope which it afforded. . . . All the Jewish interpreters adhere to the Messianic interpretation, and in this they are headed by the Chaldee, who paraphrases the words ממך לי יצא in this way: מנך קדמי יפק משיחאi.e., From thee Messiah shall go out before me. (pp. 490-492)

That, in the prophecy under consideration, Bethlehem is marked out as the birth-place of the Messiah, was held as an undoubted truth by the ancient Jews. This appears from the confident reply of the Sanhedrim to the question of Herod as to the birth-place of Christ. And it is not less evident from John vii. 42. The circumstance that, after the tumult raised by Barcochba, not only Jerusalem, but Bethlehem also, was, by the Emperor Adrian, interdicted to the Jews as a residence, renders it probable that this interpretation was not given up immediately after the death of Christ. But even after this edict of Adrian, and after the difficulty had appeared in all its force, they did not, for a considerable time, venture to assert that the prophecy knew nothing of Bethlehem as the birth-place of the Messiah. It is with the later Rabbinical interpreters only, who were better skilled in the art of distorting, that this assertion is found. The ancient Jews endeavoured to evade the difficulty by the fable, dressed up in various ways, that the Messiah was indeed born at Bethlehem, on the day of the destruction of the temple, but that, on account of the sins of the people. He was afterwards carried away by a storm, and had, since that time, remained, unknown and concealed, in various places. Thus speak the Talmud, the very ancient commentary on Lamentations, Echa Rabbati, and the very old commentary on Genesis, Breshith Rabba (compare the passages in Raim. Martini, S. 348-50; Carpzovius and Frischmuth, l.c.). Indeed, we can trace this fiction still farther back. (pp. 495-496)

The Rabbinical interpreters felt, however, that this fiction, being destitute of all warrant, was of no use to them in their controversies with Christians; and it was to these that their view was chiefly directed. Hence they sought to remove the difficulty by means of the interpretation; and as all had the same interest, the result was that the distorted explanation became as generally prevalent, as the correct one had formerly been. KimchiAbenezraAbendanaAbarbanel, and, in general, all the later Rabbins (compare the passages in Wichmannsh. l. c. S. 9), maintain that Bethlehem is mentioned here as the birth-place of the Messiah indirectly only,—in so far only as the Messiah was to be descended from David the Bethlehemite. There cannot well be a prepossession in favour of this exposition. The circumstance that, formerly, no one ever thought that it was even possible to explain the passage under review in any other way than that, in it, Bethlehem is spoken of as the birth-place of the Messiah, and that this exposition was discovered and introduced, only at a time when the other could no longer be received, raises, a priori, strong suspicions against it. (p. 497)

Thus, we see that Strauss merely resurrected polemical Jewish objections to Bethlehem as Jesus’ birthplace, after His death. Previously, Jewish scholars / rabbis agreed that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem. Hengstenberg even notes a second argument that Jonathan picks up: that Jesus was born in Nazareth:

But the Jews endeavoured, in another way, to wrest from Christian controversialists the advantage afforded by this passage. They denied altogether that Christ was born at Bethlehem. Thus Abr. Peritsol (compare Eisenmenger, l. c. S. 259): “Since they called Him Jesus the Nazarene, and not Jesus the Bethlehemite, it is to be inferred that He was born at Nazareth, as it is written in the Targum of Jerusalem.” Upon this point, however, there existed no unanimity among them. David Gans, in the Book Zemach David, mentions, without any remark, Bethlehem as the birth-place of the Messiah (S. 105 of Vorst’s translation). (p. 499)

The urge to deny that Micah 5:2 teaches a birth in Bethlehem is seen to have its origin in contra-Christian Jewish polemics. Theological liberals utilized these strains for their own destructive ends, and atheists use the latter’s commentary to bolster up their own skeptical ideology: all the way to a mythical Jesus. Now it’s standard practice among atheists, Muslims, and heretics like Jehovah’s Witnesses (all of whom I have debated many times; hence I’m well-familiar with the tactic), to prominently cite theologically liberal self-identified “Christian” scholarship, because the latter no longer adheres to traditional Christian orthodoxy of interpretation. For this reason, Jonathan often cites (and praises to the skies) Catholic exegete Fr. Raymond Brown, who was very liberal in theology, and he quotes ultra-liberal Protestant David Strauss above. These are the reliable “go to” guys.

If Jesus had been born in Nazareth, he still would have fulfilled the prophecies utilised by the Gospel writers.

This is untrue, as just demonstrated at length. The Messiah had to be born in Bethlehem: as was the consensus of Jews before Christ and orthodox Christians ever since. Jesus claimed to be the Messiah and was, in fact, born there.

If we look at the potential theological contrivances in the fulfilment of the prophecy that sees the Messiah being born in the ‘city of David’ in light of the added evidence of the genealogies, then it is hard not to be cynical. With a faulty and clearly manufactured set of family trees which rely on some dodgy usages of the Old Testament and genealogy, a shadow is cast upon the idea that Bethlehem, as a birthplace, is not only prophesied, but seemingly fulfilled.

Not in the slightest. Jonathan was incorrect regarding the genealogies (as I showed in my last installment), and I believe that the present critique is equally lacking in compelling argumentation and persuasiveness..

It is not only the apparent shoehorning of Jesus into a Bethlehem prophecy but the plethora of other issues that cause a sceptic to doubt the veracity of Bethlehem being Jesus’ birthplace. Let us look at all of the evidence which points to the notion that Jesus might well have been born elsewhere.

Yes, let’s. I’m delighted to have the opportunity to demonstrate the weak and insubstantial nature of this so-called “evidence”.

Firstly, there is a serious lack of mention of Bethlehem in any other writing in the New Testament.Although absence of evidence is often claimed (by Christians) as not being evidence of absence, it is hard to deny the force of the lack of mention of Bethlehem. The Gospels of Matthew and Luke are the only places in which it is mentioned. Neither do Mark, John, and importantly, nor does Paul corroborate the claims of the other two.

Actually (contra Jonathan’s claims), it is mentioned also in John 7:42 (RSV): “Has not the scripture said that the Christ is descended from David, and comes from Bethlehem, the village where David was?” But absence of further mention (minus one) is an irrelevancy, anyway. It’s mentioned where it makes sense: in the accounts of Jesus’ birth, and a reference back to His birth later.

Mark’s account starts at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, which is about thirty years after His birth. And so it says that “Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee” (1:9) because that was His hometown, where He grew up.

It gets slightly more problematic for those who are pro-Bethlehem in that it seems that Jesus was born in Nazareth.

The only times that the Bible refers to Jesus’ birth, is when it states that the birth was in Bethlehem:

Matthew uses the words “born in Bethlehem” (Mt 2:1; cf. 2:1b-6, in which the wise men and Herod make reference to His birth there).

Luke has Mary and Joseph traveling to Bethlehem (2:4), the “city of David”: where Jesus was born: “And while they were there, the time came for her to be delivered. And she gave birth to her first-born son” (2:6-7a). In Luke 2:11 an angel proclaims: “for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”

On the other hand, in all appearances of “Nazareth” in conjunction with Jesus, never once does it say that He was born there. The Bible says that He “dwelt” there (Mt 2:23), that He was “from” there (Mt 21:11; Mk 1:9), that He was “of” Nazareth (Mt 26:71; Mk 1:24; 10:47; 16:6; Lk 4:34, 18:37; 24:19; Jn 1:45; 18:5, 7; 19:19; Acts 2:22; 3:6; 4:10; 6:14; 10:38; 22:8; 26:9), “out of” Nazareth (Jn  1:46), “brought up” there (Lk 4:16), that Jesus called Nazareth “his own country” (Lk 4:23-24), and that both His parents lived in Nazareth before He was born, and after (Lk 1:26 ff [the Annunciation]; Lk 2:4, 39, 51). Not one word about being born in Nazareth occurs in any of those 28 references.

Yet Jonathan tells us that it “seems” that Jesus was born in Nazareth?

Paul is at times understood to be writing, in his letters, to people very interested in the Jewishness of Jesus. If he knew that Jesus was born in Bethlehem and of the Davidic line, you would have thought this would have been a superb mechanism which Paul could have used to argue such Jewishness. Sadly, this evidence is lacking.

This isn’t compelling at all. Paul argued that Jesus was the Jewish Messiah: that’s more than enough “Jewish”! Whenever he calls Him (or contends for Him as) “Christ” he is doing that: it meant “anointed” / “Messiah” in Greek:

Acts 9:22 But Saul increased all the more in strength, and confounded the Jews who lived in Damascus by proving that Jesus was the Christ.

Acts 17:1-3 Now when they had passed through Amphip’olis and Apollo’nia, they came to Thessaloni’ca, where there was a synagogue of the Jews. [2] And Paul went in, as was his custom, and for three weeks he argued with them from the scriptures, [3] explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead, and saying, “This Jesus, whom I proclaim to you, is the Christ.”

Acts 18:5 . . . Paul was occupied with preaching, testifying to the Jews that the Christ was Jesus.

Acts 18:28 for he powerfully confuted the Jews in public, showing by the scriptures that the Christ was Jesus.

[plus many many more instances: just search “Christ” in the Pauline epistles in the RSV online version]

Paul proclaimed that Jesus was squarely within Jewish tradition, as the Messiah (and God, as well):

Romans 9:4-6 They are Israelites, and to them belong the sonship, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; [5] to them belong the patriarchs, and of their race, according to the flesh, is the Christ. God who is over all be blessed for ever. Amen. [6] But it is not as though the word of God had failed. For not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel, 

2 Timothy 2:8 Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, descended from David, as preached in my gospel, [perhaps implies a birth in Bethlehem, but certainly means “of the Davidic line”: to use Jonathan’s demand]

The Gospel of Mark seems to indicate that Jesus was born in Nazareth. Mark makes no mention, other than Jesus being from Nazareth, of any other place that Jesus could be associated with in the whole of his Gospel. Mark 1:9 declares, “Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.”

So what? This proves nothing whatsoever. As I noted, Mark starts out when Jesus was 30 years old. It’s simply saying that before His ministry began (initiated by His baptism), He lived in Nazareth; therefore, that’s where He “came from”. He went to John in the wilderness, from Nazareth; He was from Nazareth. That was His hometown. He never lived in Bethlehem, so why would anyone say that He was “from” there? This isn’t rocket science.

Take, for example (by analogy), the singer Bob Dylan. He was born in Duluth, Minnesota, but lived in Hibbing, Minnesota from the age of six (I happened to visit this house on our vacation this year: being a big fan). That‘s where everyone who knows anything about him says and understands that he was raised and where he spent his childhood. Consequently, no one ever says that he is “from” Duluth or “of” Duluth or was “brought up” there. Even many avid Dylan fans don’t even know that he wasn’t born in Hibbing.

All of those things are said about Hibbing: precisely as the Bible habitually refers to Nazareth in relation to Jesus. It’s talking about His hometown, where He was always known to live, prior to His three-year itinerant ministry. In the Bible, people were generally named after the places where they were from. Yet Jonathan seems to expect that the Bible should say that Jesus was “of” or “from” Bethlehem, rather than Nazareth, because He was born there. It doesn’t. It says that He was “of” or “from” Nazareth because that was His hometown. And it says that He was born in Bethlehem; never that He was born in Nazareth. All the biblical data is on my side of this contention. All Jonathan has is silence and empty speculation.

As a second analogous example, there is my own father: Graham Armstrong. He was from Essex, Ontario: a small town sixteen miles over the border from Detroit, where he met my mother, and where I grew up. That’s where I always say he was from, as I did during our recent trip all through Canada: noting that I was half-Canadian. My father grew up in Essex. So why would anyone say he was from anywhere else? But he was born in Maidstone, Ontario (now a hamlet of Tecumseh). I don’t think I ever heard in my life, my father saying he was “from Maidstone” (nor did I ever hear anyone else  say that).

My wife was born in Wayne, Michigan and lived there a short time, but moved to Detroit till about age ten and then to the suburban Dearborn Heights after that. She would never say she was from “Wayne” if asked where she was from. She’d say “Detroit” or “Dearborn Heights.” Likewise, three of my four children were born in Southfield, Michigan, and one in Dearborn, but they grew up in Detroit and Melvindale. Thus, my two oldest would say either Detroit or Melvindale was their hometown (our family lived in the latter for almost 16 years), but never their birthplace city. My two youngest would identify Melvindale as their childhood hometown.

I was both born and raised (first seventeen years) in Detroit, so I could say I was “from” there in either sense: but that’s not analogous to the case of Jesus. The bottom line is that skeptics of the Bible almost invariably bring a double standard to it. What is standard usage of language anywhere else is somehow disregarded or ignored when it comes to the same sort of issue as related to the Bible: and it is because of the hostility and polemical agenda of the skeptic or atheist.  But it gets downright silly. The present example of this Bethlehem / Nazareth nonsense is an absolutely classic, textbook case of irrational anti-biblical and anti-Christian bias.

Throughout the Gospel, when visiting elsewhere, such as Capernaum (Mark 1:21-28), he is referred to as Jesus of Nazareth. More damaging, perhaps, is the idea in Mark 6 where he returns to Nazareth and this is referred to as his “hometown” (6:1). This is compounded as later in that same episode Mark has Jesus himself saying (6:4), “A prophet is not without honor except in his hometown and among his own relatives and in his own household.” There seems to be little dispute in Mark’s writing that Jesus hailed from Nazareth.

Exactly. That was his hometown; He was “brought up” there (Lk 4:16). This is no proof whatever that He was born there. 

Jesus of Nazareth

In common vernacular and biblical terms, it is no coincidence that Jesus is known famously as ‘Jesus of Nazareth’ and not ‘Jesus of Bethlehem’! It seems to me that it is more probable that Jesus was known as Jesus of Nazareth before the Gospels were written so that this title could not realistically be dropped. But since the writers needed Jesus to be born in Bethlehem it was a case of either getting him (i.e. Joseph and Mary) from there to Bethlehem and back again or living in Bethlehem at the birth and then moving to Nazareth, Luckily, the Gospels have both options. Nothing like covering all the bases!

This is all a massive non sequitur and baseless speculation, as just demonstrated. 

 Matthew vs Luke: The Contradiction

As ever with the nativity, the big issues surround the contradictions between the two source accounts: the Gospels of Matthew and Luke.

Luke has Joseph and Mary living in Nazareth, but in order to fulfil that prophecy, he needs to get them to Bethlehem. The Roman census of Quirinius does the trick for him, and he has them travelling down to Bethlehem to take the census (more on that in many other posts).

Why should a verifiable historical census be regarded as a “trick” of the Gospel writers? And why must Jonathan doubt that Joseph and Mary lived in Nazareth?

Matthew, on the other hand, has Joseph and Mary seemingly already living in Bethlehem. There is no census, not even a mention of it.

Why does it have to be mentioned? That’s a mere arbitrary assumption. Matthew never implies that Bethlehem was their hometown or dwelling-place. He simply writes, “Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea . . .” (2:1). Then 2:23 says about Joseph that “he went and dwelt in a city called Nazareth”. There is not a word about Joseph living in Bethlehem as a residence, or about Jesus supposedly being born in Nazareth.

After Herod (who is not mentioned in Luke) chases the family away, killing innocent babies in so doing, the family move to Egypt, probably for a couple of years, and return “out of Egypt” when it is safe and Herod has died, to leave his son in charge.

Herod (the Great) is mentioned in Luke 1:5: “In the days of Herod, king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechari’ah, of the division of Abi’jah; and he had a wife of the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth.” [John the Baptist’s mother]

The family then and for the first time move to Nazareth:

 So Joseph got up, took the Child and His mother, and came into the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was reigning over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. Then after being warned by God in a dream, he left for the regions of Galilee, and came and lived in a city called Nazareth. This was to fulfil what was spoken through the prophets: “He shall be called a Nazarene.”

It is clear that the family had not before lived in Nazareth, directly contradicting Luke.

It’s as simple as that. To get around the problem that Jesus is known as “Jesus of Nazareth” both writers need him being born on the Messianic prophetic town of Bethlehem but later living in Nazareth. Luke has the family already living in Nazareth, born in the Bethlehem by randomly going to a census he didn’t need to go to (more on that later) to return immediately via the Temple in Jerusalem (more on that later) to Nazareth. Matthew has them already living in Bethlehem, born there, and then fleeing to Egypt to return some two years later to Nazareth where they had not previously lived.

The tangles Christians get into to explain away this issue…!

The tangles that atheists get into to explain away clear facts! Jonathan’s view is as clear as mud. Matthew 2:23 (whatever version Jonathan is using) simply says that Joseph “came and lived in a city called Nazareth” (RSV: “he went and dwelt in a city called Nazareth”). Neither Matthew nor Luke say this was the first time, or deny that He ever lived there before. That’s the sort of thing that would have to be present in order to assert a real contradiction.

Christan apologist Glenn Miller, in the midst of writing about the infancy narratives (Nazareth, Bethlehem, and the flight to Egypt), also makes a general point about the atheist / skeptical tendency of charging “contradiction” when in fact there is none:

[I]n the absence of explicit contradiction, one has to interpret the text in such a way as to create a contradiction. There is no contradiction in what the text ‘presents’–at a surface level–but one has to re-create the historical scene “behind” the text, in such a way as to generate a contradiction. In other words, we take textual statements and ‘visualize’ or ‘re-create in our minds’, if you will, the historical sequence behind those texts. Our author [Christopher Hitchens] has taken the gospel narratives and ‘re-created’ the historical scene as one in which the sequences are out-of-synch. But the text itself does not make that explicit at all, and the same textual data can be used to ‘re-create’ in-synch sequences as well (at least two plausible ones, as we will note toward the end of this discussion).

So, in the absence of other data from Hitchens, it would not be unfair of us to say that his ‘flatly contradicting’ statement is unwarranted and needs more evidence to support it. . . .

Note a couple of things from Luke:

Joseph and Mary are from Nazareth

(No mention of pregnancy-crisis)

They travel to Bethlehem

Jesus is born in Bethlehem

Shepherds visit Jesus in Bethlehem

Joseph/Mary/Jesus make a trip to Jerusalem for various Jewish rituals

(No mention of Magi/Flight)

Sometime after the various rituals, they return to their own city of Nazareth.

When we compare this list with Matthew, here’s what we see:

Joseph and Mary are introduced without reference to B or N.

Pregnancy-crisis.

Jesus is born in Bethlehem

(No mention of Shepherds)

(No mention of family trip to Jerusalem for obligatory Jewish rituals)

Visit of Magi

Flight to Egypt

Family settles in Nazareth

But notice that Luke does not indicate a short trip from Nazareth to Jerusalem (for ritual purposes) at all. Neither Matthew  nor Luke have such a trip in their respective narrative, so the blog-visitor’s statement (at least the ‘specifically’ part) is inaccurate.

But also notice that both authors are only reporting some of the events—they share the key elements (i.e., Jesus born in royal city of Bethlehem, Jesus ends up in a despised town of Nazareth), and they each select a subset of the history for their particular point (e.g., Luke has the ritual-trip to emphasize the law-biding character of the family and the acceptance of Jesus by godly Jews; Matthew has the Flight/Secret-Return story to emphasize the early rejection of—or indifference to– Jesus by the Jewish leadership)

With the various omissions of each, it is hard to really construct ‘overlapping periods’ in which to situate anything but the barest of events. The centerpiece birth in Bethlehem anchors everything, and the story ‘ends’ at Nazareth in both. Thus, it would take more explicit textual data to make this into a problem. . . .

What emerges from this first-glance look at the objections, is that much is being made from the omissions and silences in the text. To be sure, one could choose to interpret these silences/omissions in such a way as to construe these problems, but how would one defend such choices? Developing arguments from silence is notoriously dangerous, and rarely is certain enough to carry the conclusion single-handedly! . . .

Notice that our objectors have made two unwarranted assumptions in violation of the above: (1) they have assumed that both Matthew and Luke has ‘purported to give a full account of the story’; and (2) that the omitted events were ‘so central a part of such a story’ that they would have been ‘automatically included’.

Biographical writing is notoriously selective—hence the assumption of ‘full account’ will be wrong almost all the time (especially in antiquity).

(“Contradictions in the infancy stories?”, A Christian Thinktank; I have changed his all caps usages to italics]

Miller then goes on to  make fascinating observations about (providing many documented examples) the techniques of ancient Hebrew writers, such as “telescoping” and “thematic ordering” (versus chronological ordering). This is precisely the sort of thing that atheists and biblical skeptics invariably miss: because they usually know nothing about it and don’t care to get to know it.  Miller concludes:

What this means is that we have to re-prioritize our emphasis on chronological order. The ancients seemed to be interested more in thematic order, and chronology was of minor importance, typically. . . .

What this means is that it will be very, very difficult to find a ‘chronological contradiction’ anywhere in the gospel narratives, since the gospel authors are not even trying to maintain strict chronological sequence—it just was not that important to writers of that period. They arranged their material in the interests of clarity of logical or thematic presentation, instead of chronological.

And this condensation, omission, and telescoping is pervasive in all of biblical literature. . . . this kind of literary style/device is everywhere in the NT narratives: . . . [he provides many many examples]

If . . . the ancient world in NT times would not have had a problem with these omissions, telescoping, ‘harsh abbreviation’, and condensation of accounts, then we would expect that the first set of NT ‘opponents’ would not have used ‘chronological contradictions’ as a point of attack. In other words, among all the problems with the NT that its opponents raise, little-to-none of those problems should be ‘chronological contradictions’. If, on the other hand, the literary environment was otherwise than that described above (based on the Lucian-type literary conventions/ethics), we should expect these skeptics/critics to raise a large number of ‘chronological contradiction’ arguments, against many of the passages in the NT using this device. (I listed at least 15 above, apart from the birth/resurrection narratives). [he then provides many examples of ancient critics of Christianity, proving the point with exponentially more data and argument than is necessary to refute it]

Further related reading:

“Do the ‘Infancy Narratives’ of Matthew and Luke Contradict Each Other?” (Tim Staples, Catholic Answers Magazine, 11-21-14)

“Do the Infancy Narratives Contradict?” (Steven O’Keefe,  ACTS Apologist Blog, 11-21-14)

“Are the Infancy Narratives Historically Reliable?” (Joe Heschmeyer, Shameless Popery, 11-17-11)

“The Lukan Census” (Glenn Miller, A Christian Thinktank, Sep. 2014)

“Herod’s Slaughter of the Children / The Return from Egypt” (Glenn Miller, A Christian Thinktank)

“Critique of a Form-Critical Reading of Matthew One” (John F. McCarthy, Living Tradition, July 2007)

“The Literal Sense of Matthew 1” (John F. McCarthy, Living Tradition, Sep. 2007)

“A Brief Commentary on Matthew 2 according to the Four Senses of Sacred Scripture” (John F. McCarthy, Living Tradition, March 2008)

“Brown’s Birth Of The Messiah . . . Revisited” (Michael E. Giesler, Catholic Culture, 2001)

A reader asks about the Infancy Narratives of Luke and Matthew” (Mark Shea, Patheos, 4-18-17)

“How the accounts of Jesus’ childhood fit together: 6 things to know and share” (Jimmy Akin, National Catholic Register, 2-20-14)

“Why Are The Infancy Narratives So Different?” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 11-19-06)

“Ignatius Of Antioch And The Infancy Narratives”  (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 11-1-06)

“Early Christian And Non-Christian Views Of The Infancy Narratives”  (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 11-5-06)

Harmony of the Gospels: Principles from Lincoln Biographies” (+ Part 2 / Part 3) (J. P. Holding, Tekton Apologetics)

“The Nativity Stories Harmonized” (J. P. Holding, Tekton Apologetics)

“Miller vs Carrier on the Lukan Census” (J. P. Holding, Tekton Apologetics)

“The Slaughter of the Innocents: Historical or Not?” (J. P. Holding, Tekton Apologetics)

“Raymond Brown’s Assessment Of The Infancy Narratives” (+ Part 2 / Part 3) (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 11-8-07)

“Some Common Objections To The Infancy Narratives” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 11-18-06)

A Radically Liberal Christmas” [Refutation of Borg and Crossan] (+ Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5) (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 12-22-07)

“Jesus’ Birthplace (Part 1): Early Interest And Potential Sources” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 12-15-06)

“Sources For The Infancy Narratives” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 11-12-06)

“Were The Infancy Narratives Meant To Convey History?” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 11-11-06)

“Does The Gospel Of Mark Contradict The Infancy Narratives?” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 12-16-06)

“Some Neglected Evidence Relevant To The Census Of Luke 2” (+ Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6) (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 12-12-07)

“Were Ancient People Gullible Enough To Sustain Modern Skeptical Theories?” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 7-13-08)

“Geza Vermes On The Infancy Narratives” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 1-14-08)

“A Response To Annette Merz On The Infancy Narratives” (+ Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9) (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 8-26-16)

“Is The Slaughter Of The Innocents Historical?” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 8-18-10)

“Is Luke’s Census Historical?” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 8-19-10)

“Paul Tobin Vs. Richard Carrier On Luke’s Census” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 8-12-10)

“Agreement Between Matthew And Luke About Jesus’ Childhood” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 11-30-13)

“Jesus’ Childhood Outside The Infancy Narratives” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 12-9-13)

“Evidence For The Bethlehem Birthplace” (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 12-5-12)

“Problems With Raymond Brown’s The Birth Of The Messiah (Jason Engwer, Trialblogue, 12-9-15)

*****

2017-07-24T23:33:00-04:00

+ Double Standards in How Christian Conversions are Treated, Compared to the Often Chilly Reception of Critiques of Atheist Deconversion Stories / Atheist “Exegesis” of the “Doubting Thomas” Passage

Dunce4

Illustration (anonymous) from Nursery Novelties for Little Masters and Misses (1820), showing a “dunce” wearing a fool’s cap with bell and ass’s ears. The loving, infinitely wise atheist comes to give aid to the poor, imbecilic, ignorant Christian, devoid of reason, logic, and facts alike  [public domain / Wikimedia Commons]

*****

I’ve been roundly criticized lately by many atheists because I have written several posts that are critical of atheist deconversion stories (one / two / three / four / five / six / seven): as being inadequate as any sorts of disproof of Christianity. But then, lo and behold, I just happened to see a post on my sidebar today, by atheist Chad DeVillier, (on Bob Seidensticker’s Cross Examined blog) entitled,  “The Disparity Between Religion and Reason.” Can you imagine if I had a post called, “The Disparity Between Atheism and Reason”? Then there would be, no doubt, two more comboxes of 300 and 100+ posts devoted to how intolerably bigoted I am, just as there has been in the last five days. Chad wrote in the piece itself (his words in blue below):

*****

We are not and cannot be on the same playing field, they the religious and we the non-, because those who have come to accept deities into their lives have done so either largely or entirely for emotion-based reasons—“feeling God’s presence,” faith, subjective experiences, correlations that cannot be proven between events that cannot be verified, etc.

***

[A] religious person who has based their entire life, hope, and future on an ideology is vastly less capable of being objective than someone whose entire source of purpose and hope does not depend on faith in their beliefs. You cannot talk objective reason with someone who is not willing to seeing things through a lens other than their own.

***

Logical reason only impacts those not already convinced of something else, and subscribers to a religion that demands faith capable of moving mountains are much too far removed from the reach of reason to plausibly claim that they are daily willing and capable of suspending that immovable faith in order to ask and answer uncomfortable questions impartially.

***

An answer of anything other than a complete willingness to abandon that which they cling to most if the facts demand it, and a need only for objectively verifiable evidence in order to do so, is a proclamation that they cannot be reasoned with and are not capable of a discussion based on empirical reason. One cannot claim to champion reason if one will not allow oneself to be swayed by it; the objective person must be prepared, always, to be wrong.

***

Keep the separateness of the playing fields in mind when next you attempt to induce critical thought into the mind of the faithful; reason is a powerful tool, but, like the Almighty Mystery in the sky, can only influence those who accept it into their hearts in the first place.

Of course I couldn’t resist interacting with this condescension and philosophical child play a bit, and so I entered the fray (heaven help me!):

That’s funny. I’ve been catching all kinds of hell lately from many atheists for having the audacity to critique atheist deconversion stories as inadequate arguments against Christianity. You’d think I had attacked mom or apple pie or summer days at the lake, to see all the fuss and stink.

But we see that — as always — it’s open season on Christian conversion stories. Why would that be? Is it that we’re so relentlessly unreasonable and y’all are invariably so reasoned (and love science, etc., like we supposedly don’t), so that a critique from us of your stuff is impossible beforehand, by the nature of the case? :-)

I’m all for atheists critiquing our arguments in our conversion accounts (insofar as they are there). I just marvel at the thin skin of so many atheists when we deign to do the same thing back.

Much more fair, I think, is the view that a conversion story on either side is not usually intended to be (or is by nature) a logical tour de force. Both sides assuredly have their non-rational, emotional, experiential (etc.) elements. And the purpose of these stories on both sides is primarily to preach to the choir.

That’s pretty disheartening to hear. Anyone who surrounds their position with so much emotion that they are a chore to reason with is to be called out for failing to be objective in a discussion; I only single the religious out because religious conversion and belief is almost exclusively based on subjective reasoning, whereas atheism *should* be based on objective facts. Obviously, there are some atheists who were born into it and are no better at defending it than most religious Americans, but regardless of fools like that, atheism is a conclusion that can be reached by objective reasoning, whereas religious conviction requires subjective beliefs and emotion-heavy faith.

***

The difference, of course, is that the religious need to accept reason before being swayed by it because they’re being ruled by emotion, whereas the non-religious would only need to accept Mr Deity before being swayed by him because they were being too rational. Which one sounds better– too influenced by emotion, or too influenced by reason?

And of course religious people can become reasoned out of their beliefs; I am one of them! …though, to this day, I still wonder how all that reason snuck in past my walls of blind, emotion-clad faith… must be a miracle!

It is remarkable that reason changed your mind, since by your own account, you possessed mere blind / emotional faith. That would have been tough to penetrate indeed. Millions of Christians don’t know their faith very well, let alone reasons to hold its tenets. You were clearly one of those. And many atheists are quite unacquainted with basic philosophy and logic.

Don’t get me wrong, I knew my stuff– I actively studied the Bible on my own time and majored in Biblical Studies at a Bible-based private college. But, as with all religious people, I had blind faith to block out evidence to the contrary. I think the only thing that rescued me from the throes of irrational reasoning masquerading as rationality was my personality– I am an INTP, and by nature question things and demand logic; it was only a matter of time before I realized I could apply this to my own faith.

And now you have no blind faith, huh? There is absolutely nothing where you don’t have proof; nothing where you have to accept an axiom that itself can’t be proven?

I guess you have given up on logic, mathematics, and science: all involve such axioms: indeed, start from them. Thus, we could argue that in accepting all of those, you were being merely “subjective” rather than “objective” since none of those things begin with “empirical proof.”

And you are blissfully free from emotion now? I see. Do you love anyone? Do you explain that in terms of Spock-like “objectivity” and pure reason, too? You seem quite emotional when you knock Christianity. But maybe it’s just an exceptionally strong emotion-free passion . . .

Mathematics and science don’t require blind faith because each discipline is backed by significant objective evidence. The point is not to have everything be conclusively proven– scientists will be the first to say that nothing is conclusively provable because evidence could, at any time, disrupt everything we know on any subject– the point is to have significant objective evidence in favor of what you hold to be true, and to have come to hold it to be true BECAUSE of this evidence. That is not how religious conversion works. That is not the way that the Bible asks people to come to belief; it asks for blind faith, scolding those who, like Thomas, simply asked for a bit of proof first.

They start with unprovable axioms. In other words, one must exercise a sort of faith to accept those without initial evidence, and then proceed: scarcely different from religious tenets.

Jesus scolded Thomas, it’s true, but it was a matter of degree (better and best), and you neglect to also note that He came back in one of His Resurrection appearances precisely to persuade Thomas. Thus, it is hardly a proof of supposed Christian “blind faith” to cite this story. Quite the contrary: the whole point of that story was to show that there is such a thing as excessive demands for proof (which Jesus and Paul talk about a lot), not that proof itself is unnecessary or frowned-upon.

The purpose of most of Jesus’ miracles (including, ultimately, His own Resurrection) was also to give testimony to His claims to be God, which is hardly a ringing endorsement of “blind faith” either, but rather, empirical evidence right before people’s eyes (much as atheists are constantly demanding today).

If you’re gonna bash the Bible, please do so, rather than bashing a straw man caricature of the Bible and what it teaches.

They start with them… but they don’t end with them. Objective evidence quickly surfaces, or the axioms are summarily rejected. Not so with religious tenets, though this should be the case.

The Thomas story you mention ends with Jesus saying to him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed,” which is blind faith in literal definition.

The performing of miracles would, indeed, be a solid reason for people at that time to believe. We have documentation of those people witnessing them– the Bible. So we must– as you implied– search the Bible for veracity. When we do so, unlike mathematical or scientific ideas, it falls far short of verisimilitude. Therefore accounts of Jesus’ miracles are also cast into doubt.

Again, the “Doubting Thomas” story is not sanctioning blind faith at all: else Jesus wouldn’t have appeared, and He (or the Gospel writer) would have simply said something like, “Blessed are those who believe anything whatever with no evidence whatever.” Then it would be consistent with the atheist caricature of it.

Jesus, of course, said nothing remotely like that. All He said was that it was better to have faith without the supposedly “required” miracles than with them. The fallacy you commit is to assume that empirical proof is all there is along the lines of evidence and knowledge. But that’s ridiculous (both philosophically and logically).

There are eyewitness accounts (they could have heard such accounts of other people witnessing Jesus healing people) — this is the nature of most historical “facts” that we all accept — , there was Scripture, which we believe to be a revelation from God. There was his own previous experience as an apostle: what he himself had witnessed.

You collapse “not seen” [Him risen] into all evidentiary or corroborating knowledge whatever; therefore you conclude that Jesus is teaching blind faith. This is illogical and doesn’t follow at all (classic eisegesis: reading into it what isn’t there).

Jesus’ point was that people have more than enough evidence to believe, without keeping up the demand for more. In the Bible, again and again (Old Testament and New) it is taught that hardness of heart and rebelliousness cause people not to believe what they should believe: not any lack of the miraculous.

Hence, Jesus said, citing Abraham: “`If they do not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced if some one should rise from the dead” (Lk 16:31: RSV).

Jesus’ words calling for faith without seeing him– faith without evidence, since no other evidence of Jesus’ resurrection existed– is blind, and this idea is consistent with many other passages of the Bible calling for childlike faith that doesn’t demand proof. This is not something some people are capable of; we need hard proof to believe, and we don’t think we’re asking too much by that.

Recorded eyewitness accounts are where we get a lot of historical information… but those accounts are always corroborated by a plethora of sources. Biblical accounts are not. You can believe that Scripture is somehow on a separate level because it is divine revelation, but again, we without emotional connection to the religion don’t see any evidence of divine revelation (at all), so we are forced to treat the Bible as any other account– susceptible to scrutiny.

We’re just going round and round with Doubting Thomas. I don’t see how you have overcome my objections at all. The Bible teaches again and again that we are to give reasons for why we believe what we do:

1 Peter 3:15 Stand ready to make a defense [Gk., apologia] of your faith.

[it’s the same Greek word used in Plato’s Apology: whereby Socrates elaborately defends himself against bum raps]

Jude 3 Contend earnestly for the faith . . .

Acts 1:3 To them he presented himself alive after his passion by many proofs, . . .

Both Paul and Jesus are recorded as having “argued” and “reasoned” with opponents again and again. None of that is consistent with the thoroughly misguided notion that the Bible and Christianity supposedly teach “blind faith.” Why argue at all for something if it is believed to not have a rational basis and is to be accepted blindly?

So you’re dead wrong on that. You want to believe that this is what Christianity teaches, and so you pretend that it is actually in the Bible, by butchering texts like Doubting Thomas: according to the time-honored “butcher and hog” tradition of atrocious, laughable atheist pseudo-exegesis.

Do you believe that people currently have more than enough evidence to believe without needing any more?

I believe there is more than enough evidence, if in fact it were known to people. But then of course they have to be of a predisposition and fair-minded enough (not hostile!) to actually receive it. Many simply haven’t become acquainted with the abundant resources of philosophy of religion and apologetics, biblical archaeology, medical documentations of miracles such as at Lourdes, etc.

Do you believe that atheists are only such because we are being rebellious and intentionally rejecting belief?

Some do that, but not all, by a long shot. I think it is a problem mostly of deficient knowledge and logic (adoption of too many false premises and fallacies); unfamiliarity with good philosophy, etc. I have written the papers:

Are Atheists “Evil”? Multiple Causes of Atheist Disbelief and the Possibility of Salvation

New Testament on God-Rejecters vs. Open-Minded Agnostics

Having been active in atheist communities for some time now, I believe that this is not generally the case; many of us are willing to accept proof, but we don’t find nearly enough of it to assuage our doubts. I remember and sometimes fondly miss (genuinely) my Christian days where I always felt loved, guided, and secure in my future. I would return if I could, but I cannot– I, and many like me, have been actively searching for evidence for some time now, and we find only mountains of evidence to the contrary.

I think the demands for proof are excessive, philosophically naive, double standards compared to what atheists “demand” in order to believe many other things, and based on unfamiliarity with the nature of axiomatic knowledge: the basis of things like logic, mathematics, and science.

We are what we eat, and the more false premises we accept, the less likely we will arrive at the fullness of truth. I hope and pray that you and many other atheists can find this truth and joy and peace that we Christians believe we have found.

***

Atheists believe in many things things they can’t “prove empirically” just as everyone else does.

It is not merely a lack of being able to “prove Christianity empirically”, it is a matter of having significant evidence against it as well. The only evidence in favor of it that could potentially be considered objective would be the Bible– since God does not reveal himself in any other way– and we have found this to be rife with contradiction, plagiarism, historical inaccuracies, scientifically illiterate assertions, and morally repugnant ideas.

Out of curiosity, what do atheists believe that we can’t prove?

This is my notorious response to that question (!):

Atheism: A Remarkably Strong, Impervious Faith in “Atomism”

This was extraordinarily misunderstood, so I wrote an accompanying apologia, explaining the precise nature of the satirical humor, and my intent:

Clarifications Regarding My Atheist Reductio Paper

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