A Forgotten Chapter and Theory in Creation Theology

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One Christian controversy in which I have had very little interest is about the age of the earth. Frankly, I could hardly care less. And yet, I know many conservative Christians who are obsessed with it and most of them have a particular theory to which they hold firmly. One such theory is generically called “young earth creationism” and begins with the adamant opinion that the Bible teaches that the earth and everything (outside of God) was created by God somewhere between four thousand and ten thousand years ago.

Educated people will remember that Bishop Ussher of Ireland (Anglican) stated unequivocally that God created everything in 4004 B.C. That became the standard view until the geological discoveries of Lyell and other geologists in the early 19th century. Very quickly the scientific community determined that all the geological evidence pointed to a very ancient creation (or beginning) of creation. Since then, of course, astronomy and anthropology and biology have supported the idea that the evidence reveals the universe and our planet to be millions if not billions of years old.

Young earth creationists, almost all of them very conservative Christians, have written tomes arguing against that “ancient earth” view upheld by the vast majority of scientists. Most of them attempt to develop and follow something called “flood geology”—the theory (which they do not consider a theory but truth)—that the flood of Noah recorded in Genesis explains all the “evidence” of an ancient world. Others, and this is the view I was taught as a child and youth, believe in what is commonly called “the gap theory.” That theory still has humanity being created only a few thousand years ago. Many adjustments and amendments have been made, but “young earth creationism” is still strong in conservative evangelical Christian circles.

I have taught about this doctrine and these theories to mostly evangelical college, university and seminary students for almost forty years. I cover most, if not all, of the various theories held by Christian theologians—from theistic evolution to progressive creationism to young earth creationism, etc.

I have found that very few students have ever heard of the “ideal time theory.” I’m curious why more young earth creationists do not hold it. It is irrefutable.

The ideal time theory was promoted by scientist and amateur theologian Philip Henry Gosse (1810-1888) in his book “Omphalos.” Gosse was a highly respected zoologist and a member of the conservative Christian sect often called Plymouth Brethren. He attempted to reconcile the scientific evidence of an ancient earth with his belief in young earth creationism by positing that God created the earth with the appearance of old age only some thousands of years ago. The “ideal time” is the unreal “time” before creation out of nothing. In other words, God created the world to appear AS IF it were however old science says it is.

Now, poor Gosse was laughed out of the scientific community in Great Britain. His son, Sir Edmund William Gosse (1849-1928), joined the ridicule in his book “Father and Son.” Whenever I have presented Gosse’s ideal time theory to students or anyone the result has been the same—ridicule and even claiming that it would make God a deceiver.

But, wait. Let me play “the devil’s advocate” (not literally but in terms of defending poor Philip Henry Gosse). Gosse was not a stupid man. But, as a conservative Christian, he began with the assumption and belief that God created the whole world (planet earth and the universe) ex nihilo, out of nothing. He argued that God would have HAD to create it with the appearance of some age. Why not that of being millions of years old? The idea that God could have created the earth with NO appearance of age, Gosse argued, is ridiculous. Was Adam created with no “belly button?” How old was Adam when God created him out of the dust of the earth?

Now, before the ridicule starts, let me bring in the modern West’s most influential philosopher, Immanuel Kant. Kant believed that we have no access to “things in themselves;” all we “know” are the appearances of things. Even time and space are “forms of intuition,” products of the mind. I will not go into detail about Kant’s epistemology but only mention that, if Kant was right, as many serious thinkers believed and believe, what science studies is not things in themselves but only the appearances of things—things (if they exist at all) that the mind has already organized using the mind’s “software” (to use an analogy). But was Kant ridiculed and laughed out of the philosophical community for saying somewhat the same as Gosse? Not the same, but somewhat the same—in terms of what the sciences study. According to both, the “things” sciences study are “ideal,” not “real.”

Then let me mention philosopher Bishop Berkeley who famously argued that “To be is to be perceived.” And theologian Jonathan Edwards (who was steeped in philosophy) who believed that God creates the whole universe ex nihilo (out of nothing) at every moment. Sure, Berkeley and Edwards were not taken very seriously (about these ideas), but they weren’t and haven’t been ridiculed and excommunicated from among their professional peers for holding and teaching seemingly ridiculous ideas.

Gosse’s ideal time theory is irrefutable. That’s both its strength and its weakness. What I mean is that it is irrefutable IF one believes in a creator God who created the universe and all that is in it ex nihilo.

Consequence: I have stopped arguing with young earth creationists who appeal to the ideal time theory. (But I know very, very few who do!) I wonder why more young earth creationists don’t appeal to it. It seems better than “flood geology” which is refutable by science.

Let’s Talk about Compatibilism—Theologically

What is “compatibilism,” you ask? Most simply defined, it is the belief that determinism and free will are compatible. That is, it is possible to believe in both without contradiction. What is “determinism?” Any belief that everything that happens is determined to happen; it could not happen otherwise. Everything happens according to a “blueprint,” as it were, or everything happens according to a natural cause and effect relationship such that nothing is truly contingent.

Now, I know that any philosopher worth her salt could pick apart my definition of determinism, but it would take a book to cover all the details. So here I will just make clear that I am talking about divine determinism—the belief that everything that happens (but especially individuals’ decisions regarding salvation or not) is/are determined by God. Traditional Calvinism, going back to Augustine (how’s that for purposeful anachronism?) teaches that God plans, decrees, and renders certain all that happens without exception. Some divine determinists such as Luther seem to believe God’s determination of individuals’ spiritual decisions, especially regarding repentance and faith, is ad hoc, so to speak. That is, not according to an eternal “blueprint” and detailed decree but according to God’s good pleasure without foreordination.

Most modern Christian divine determinists, especially modern Calvinists, believe divine determinism does not conflict with free will. That is, they are compatibilists. Perhaps the most articulate compatibilist Calvinist was the Puritan preacher and theologian Jonathan Edwards. However, others include Charles Hodge and R. C. Sproul. (Calvin himself may have been a compatibilist, but most of the time he preferred to deny free will altogether.)

Compatibilism “works” (if it works) by defining “free will” as “ability to do what one wants to do” rather than “power of contrary choice.” Again, to avoid objections, I will say that some Calvinist compatibilists claim to believe in power of contrary choice but deny that the power is actual. It is natural but not moral. That is, the sinner, for example, has the natural power to repent, but he does not have the moral power to repent—because of his total depravity resulting from the “fall.”

*Sidebar: The opinions expressed here are my own (or those of the guest writer); I do not speak for any other person, group or organization; nor do I imply that the opinions expressed here reflect those of any other person, group or organization unless I say so specifically. Before commenting read the entire post and the “Note to commenters” at its end.*

Many philosophers such as Richard Swinburne, Peter van Inwagen, William Hasker, and Jerry Walls (to name only Christian thinkers) believe compatibilism “works” only by defining free will away. That is, by defining it such that it is no longer really “free.” According to them, free will is necessarily power of contrary choice—ability to do “this” or “that” without inner or outer compulsion. This is often called “libertarian free will.”

According to most compatibilists, the individual is only free when she is not being coerced; she is free when she is doing what she wants to do even if she could not do otherwise.

According to compatibilists, libertarian free will is incoherent, logically absurd, because it claims that some decisions and actions are not part of any causal chain and are, therefore, effects without causes.

Arminians (including Christians who do not call themselves that) believe in libertarian free will, but contrary to common accusations, do not believe a free decision or action is completely outside of any network of causes and effects. We believe that God gives his human creatures limited, situated freedom, power of contrary choice, to resist or submit to his will. When a sinner repents, for example, he is freely choosing to allow God to work saving grace in him. But this is only possible because of prevenient grace—a subject for another blog post.

So, what, then, is the cause of the repenting sinner’s faith decision? This is especially problematic—to the compatibilist—because it looks like there is no cause of it. The effectual cause, however, of the decision, is the sinner’s own transcendental ego (to borrow a term from Immanuel Kant without agreeing with all that he meant by the phrase). Each individual, as part of the imago dei, the image of God, has an ego, a center of personality, that has the power to decide some things (not everything).

Now, immediately, the compatibilist will predictably jump in and claim that this is still incoherent because it implies a power of personality with God-like abilities that only God can have.

Two responses are appropriate. First, God can give God-like abilities to creatures if he chooses to. That doesn’t make them gods. Second, the admission that God has power of contrary choice (e.g., to create a world or not create a world) proves that libertarian free will is not incoherent—or at least that the Christian determinist (e.g., Calvinist) does not really think so. She may say she thinks so, but by admitting that God has power of contrary choice, libertarian free will, ability to do otherwise, she proves that she does not think compatibilism is logically absurd.

Or does she? A very few Calvinists and others will say that God can do what is to us logically absurd. But they can’t possibly mean that because they always rely on logic to prove false heretical beliefs and teachings about God.

Could God have avoided creating the universe? All Calvinists, all Christian divine determinists, believe in creation out of nothing and that God’s creation of the universe out of nothing was free, not determined. If something internal or external to God caused him to create, then creation is not truly free and then it is not truly gracious. Also, in that case, something of God would be dependent on the world.

But if God has power of contrary choice, then power of contrary choice is not strictly logically absurd.

I had this argument with a well-known, very influential Calvinist theologian-philosopher some time ago. Eventually he admitted that his belief that God’s decision to create was uncaused required him to admit that libertarian free will is not strictly illogical. That does not mean he suddenly believed we humans have it! However, he admitted that one of his main arguments against libertarian free will was thereby undermined.

Finally, compatibilism, within a Christian theological frame of reference, is incompatible with God’s goodness. According to the Christian compatibilist, the Calvinist, for example, a person always decides and acts according to his strongest inclination, motive. But where does his strongest inclination, motive, come from? From his nature, they say. But, ultimately, within their system of thought, everything is planned, decreed, and rendered certain by God—including persons’ inclinations and motives. (See my book Against Calvinism for proof of this from leading Calvinists’ own writings.)

Appeals to secondary causes do not help here. Responsibility always lies with the primary cause. Think of a court case in which a defendant was caused to commit the crime by someone else—through some kind of manipulation. (Quite a few novels and movies have been made featuring such scenarios!) The jury, if not the judge and prosecutor, will want to convict the person(s) who manipulated the defendant to commit the crime. It’s intuitive, instinctive, and logical in a very raw way.

If Christian compatibilism is true, then God is the ultimate cause of sin, lack of repentance, and evil.

*Note to commenters: This blog is not a discussion board; please respond with a question or comment only to me. If you do not share my evangelical Christian perspective (very broadly defined), feel free to ask a question for clarification, but know that this is not a space for debating incommensurate perspectives/worldviews. In any case, know that there is no guarantee that your question or comment will be posted by the moderator or answered by the writer. If you hope for your question or comment to appear here and be answered or responded to, make sure it is civil, respectful, and “on topic.” Do not comment if you have not read the entire post and do not misrepresent what it says. Keep any comment (including questions) to minimal length; do not post essays, sermons or testimonies here. Do not post links to internet sites here. This is a space for expressions of the blogger’s (or guest writers’) opinions and constructive dialogue among evangelical Christians (very broadly defined).

Review of That All Shall Be Saved by David Bentley Hart

I don’t think I have ever read a book quite like this one. It’s “one of a kind” (which is really a shortened version of “the only one of its kind”). How so? It’s extremely erudite, even ostentatiously so, challenging to the mind, very harsh towards anyone who disagrees with the author’s central thesis (even insulting them), and very difficult to disagree with. Yet I do disagree with it.

Here is a “taste” of what is common throughout the book: “I honestly, perhaps guilelessly believe that the doctrine of eternal hell is prima facie nonsensical, for the simple reason that it cannot even be stated in Christian theological terms without a descent into equivocity so precipitous and total that nothing but edifying gibberish remains. To say that, on the one hand, God is infinitely good, perfectly just, and inexhaustibly loving, and that, on the other hand, he has created a world under such terms as oblige him either to impose, or to permit imposition of, eternal misery on finite rational beings, is simply to embrace a complete contradiction.” (202-3)

You have to be prepared for this book; it will hit you in the face. The author pulls no punches. He does not feel any shame in shaming those who disagree with him. According to him, they are either irrational or willfully ignorant or something just as bad. Of course, he is writing for and to Christians who have some facility for thinking about these matters (I assume).

So what is the central thesis of the book? It is found (among other places) on page 44: “From the perspective of Christian belief, the very notion of a punishment that is not intended ultimately to be remedial is morally dubious (and, I submit, anyone who doubts this has never understood Christian teaching at all); but, even if one believes that Christianity makes room for the condign imposition of purely retributive punishments, it remains the case that a retribution consisting in unending suffering, imposed as recompense for the actions of a finite intellect and will, must be by any sound definition disproportionate, unjust, and at the last nothing more than an expression of sheer pointless cruelty.”

(Here I have to stop quoting in order to not go over the legal limit. For your information, the book is published by Yale University Press, 2019.)

*Sidebar: The opinions expressed here are my own (or those of the guest writer); I do not speak for any other person, group or organization; nor do I imply that the opinions expressed here reflect those of any other person, group or organization unless I say so specifically. Before commenting read the entire post and the “Note to commenters” at its end.*

Now, I want you to read this book, so I am not going to “give it all away.” You really need to read the book to be smacked by the author’s rhetoric and logic. I cannot possibly do it justice merely to talking about it. Hart is a master wordsmith. And it seems he enjoys using exquisite rhetoric, marvelous vocabulary, excellent sentences, to cower critics. If you disagree with him, you almost have to be a masochist to read this book. I enjoyed reading it, so maybe I am something of a masochist.

(Did you hear the one about the conversation between the sadist and the masochist? The masochist begged the sadist to hit him and the sadist kept saying “no, no, no.”)

Throughout the book Hart appeals to Gregory of Nyssa, the Cappadocian Father, who advocated the eventual universal reconciliation of all God’s sensible, rational souls (human beings) if not all of God’s creatures (including the devil and his minions). He mentions several other ancient Christians who agreed with what has been called “apokatastasis”—eventual (not immediate upon death) ultimate reconciliation. Hart believes in hell; he just believes it is temporal. In this he agrees with (but never mentions) Jürgen Moltmann. He strongly disagrees with Hans Urs von Balthasar who famously wrote that Christians may hope for the eventual salvation of all souls. Hart considers that hope insufficient. Throughout the book he heaps scorn on those of us who believe it is entirely possible that God will lose some of his creatures because of their undying rejection of his mercy.

Hart comes at his argument from several directions. He spends an entire chapter exegeting biblical passages that the believes not only support but require belief in final, ultimate reconciliation. He argues that western Christianity, especially, went off the rails, so to speak, in several significant ways, with Augustine of Hippo who he blames for “infernalist orthodoxy”—belief in the unending torment of some human beings in hell. He argues that infernalist orthodoxy cannot be reconciled with the goodness of God and that the goodness of God is absolutely necessary to any belief in God who is not “a god” but Goodness Itself.

For me, as a believer in genuine free will as power of contrary choice, the most difficult chapter is “Fourth Meditation: What Is Freedom?” (pp. 159-195) There Hart seems to deny libertarian free will and more than implies that God is by definition the all-determining reality. Even sin and evil must be under God’s control; nothing at all, whatever, can escape God’s absolute and all-encompassing sovereignty. And yet, he scorns Calvinism and Augustinianism. Where is the difference? Hart believes, apparently, that God, being infinite, cannot be an agency competitive with other agencies. Or, to put it otherwise, finite wills cannot compete with God’s infinite will and power. Whatever happens is somehow willed by God. He denies the distinction, which I find very important, between God’s “antecedent will” and God’s “consequent will.”

This chapter is very “deep.” I would like to say “profound,” but I find it confusing. I’m sure Hart would say that is my fault and not his. Perhaps so. It is an exercise in metaphysics in which Hart asserts this non-competitive view of God’s agency and our finite agencies as necessary to a correct view of God because God is “infinite.” I find this more philosophical than biblical and I think it creates great problems for theodicy. But, of course, Hart might just say that the solution to theodicy is ultimate reconciliation (including, I assume, because he’s Eastern Orthodox, ultimate theosis). But what of “in the meantime?” What of all the evil and innocent suffering that goes on in the world now? I don’t think Hart gets God “off the hook,” so to speak, simply by deferring the justice of God to some future and ultimate salvation of all. He criticizes belief in free will as power of contrary choice in much the same way as Jonathan Edwards (O, the irony of it!). It is, allegedly, illogical. I admit it is mysterious, but I do not think it is illogical.

I have to conclude that Hart’s view of free will is compatibilist and that is, for me, anathema. It only raises the problem of theodicy to a fever pitch.

But enough. You need to read the book and wrestle with it and decide what you think. But put on your armor and be prepared to feel insulted—insofar as you do not agree whole heartedly with Hart!

*Note to commenters: This blog is not a discussion board; please respond with a question or comment only to me. If you do not share my evangelical Christian perspective (very broadly defined), feel free to ask a question for clarification, but know that this is not a space for debating incommensurate perspectives/worldviews. In any case, know that there is no guarantee that your question or comment will be posted by the moderator or answered by the writer. If you hope for your question or comment to appear here and be answered or responded to, make sure it is civil, respectful, and “on topic.” Do not comment if you have not read the entire post and do not misrepresent what it says. Keep any comment (including questions) to minimal length; do not post essays, sermons or testimonies here. Do not post links to internet sites here. This is a space for expressions of the blogger’s (or guest writers’) opinions and constructive dialogue among evangelical Christians (very broadly defined).

The Worst Idea Ever: The “Catastrophe of…”

Yes, I left the title incomplete because I wanted to “hook” you into reading this. I consider what I have to say here absolutely essential—for anyone who wants to understand a very basic philosophy that underlies and influences everything I say there. That people do not know this philosophy, misunderstanding and miscommunication are almost inevitable. I find myself often sitting back bemused by many of the responses I read here because, I realize, they are coming from an entirely different view of reality from my own.

No, right now, here, I’m not talking about belief in God versus atheism or Baptist versus Catholic or anything like that. I’m talking about what I will call here, for lack of a better term, “essentialism.” That word has many different meanings. Don’t bother looking it up in a dictionary. Here I will defined what I mean by it.

“Essentialism” (here, for me) is belief that some things that appear abstract to others appear real to me. And by “real” I mean—actually existing and not capable of being understood properly only as constructs of minds. They may have begun their “lives” as constructs of minds, but they have taken on independent reality which means they are not endlessly changeable without becoming something other than they were and are.

And in that case, in my opinion, they should be called something else—than they have always been called before.

*Sidebar: The opinions expressed here are my own (or those of the guest writer); I do not speak for any other person, group or organization; nor do I imply that the opinions expressed here reflect those of any other person, group or organization unless I say so specifically. Before commenting read the entire post and the “Note to commenters” at its end.*

I have lived and worked in the world of ideas for forty plus years. But I can trace my own essentialism-philosophy-“blik” as far back as I can remember. Of course, I didn’t know what it was; I just knew that many people thought differently about things such that our conversations often were like ships passing in the night.

Almost all the ancient philosophers were what I am calling here “essentialists.” No doubt there were individuals and perhaps even some groups that were not essentialists. But Western civilization was built on essentialism and its opposite, commonly known as “nominalism,” arose during the high middle ages in Europe. The person usually credited with being its most influential thinker and promoter was William of Ockham (or Occam). However, some scholars trace it back to Peter Abelard.

Catholic theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar called it “the catastrophe of nominalism” because of its pernicious effects in late modern and postmodern culture. He said that his whole project in theology and philosophy was to rebuild the world from the ground up. He meant to revision reality along the lines of what I am calling “essentialism” and some would probably call “realism” (with regard to universals).

Recently here a very astute, extremely bright, highly educated interlocutor said that if the majority of members of a certain fraternal organization commonly known as “the Lodge” were to be Baptists, then the Lodge itself would be Baptist. That is a perfect example of what I cannot think because of my essentialism. “The Lodge” (in its various manifestations) has a definite history, a definite set of beliefs (even if not well-known or well-understood by most members), and a definite tradition. It (commonly known as “Masonry” or “Freemasonry”) has an essence—not up in some cloud or some “Platonic realm of the forms”—but in its history and traditions. Of course it can change and has changed some throughout that history, but it is not endlessly flexible without becoming something other than it always has been and remains. At some point it would have to be called something else.

A classic example of what I am talking about is the famous (or infamous) book Christianity and Liberalism by Princeton Theological Seminary theologian J. Gresham Machen (published in 1923). There the author argued quite cogently that the liberal Protestantism of his day (commonly known among theologians as “Ritschlianism”) was not Christianity—whatever its proponents and defenders might say. Most surprisingly, America’s most influential non-Christian social and cultural commentator (of that time) Walter Lippman agreed with Machen! Both argued that liberal Protestants should stop calling themselves “Christians” and take on another label.

Although he was not an essentialism, of course, philosophy Antony Flew famously argued in New Essays in Philosophical Theology (1955) that anything that is compatible with everything is meaningless. I will argue that if Freemasonry is compatible with (true) Baptist belief and practice and if (true) Baptist belief and practice is compatible with Freemasonry, neither one is as meaningful as it needs to be for it to be understood as something. It doesn’t matter to me one bit that “the Lodge” welcomes Baptists into membership. As a Baptist theologian and someone quite knowledgeable about (true) Freemasonry, I believe the two essences (there, you have it!) are incompatible. But the same is true of (true) Baptist faith and practice, tradition, essence, and, say, Roman Catholic. One cannot be both without radically redefining at least one—to the point that it becomes meaningless.

Now, this is my settled belief and it underlies everything I write here. That should be clear by now to all of my intelligent, faithful readers! And it explains why many of my interlocutors and I are like ships passing in the night. They are not essentialists. Apparently, they think that categories with long traditions of meaning are endlessly flexible; they “mean” whatever the majority of people say they mean.

This is why I struggle so much to make myself understood about the category “evangelical.” I am a scholar of the type of Christianity commonly known as “evangelical” and I resist any idea that if the majority of self-identified evangelicals suddenly became atheists (for example) “evangelicalism” would include “atheism” as part of its definition. It might in some people’s minds, but not in reality. Historically, theologically, in terms of its traditions, evangelical Christianity has no particular political or economic posture. It is a spiritual-theological type, not endlessly flexible depending on what people who happen to call themselves “evangelical” mean by that. True evangelicalism does not change; it is defined by its prototypes, two of whom were Jonathan Edwards and John Wesley. Yes, there have been minor alterations of inclusion throughout its history. For example, dispensationalism came into it in the 19^th century. But dispensationalism is not part of the essence of evangelicalism.

That is just one illustration of what I mean by “essentialism” here (whatever it may mean elsewhere). If you don’t understand this about me and about what I write here and why I say here what I say, then you will misunderstand me.

I could go on and on explaining my “essentialism” but I’ve said enough for you, my dear readers, to get the gist of it. If you understand what I am saying, you may think I am crazy and there’s no point in even attempting to have a conversation with me! I understand that. It is a burden I have had to live with for decades. It has led into numerous attempted conversations that went nowhere because my conversation partner and I did not share my essentialism.

Now, finally, back to the title of this blog post. The “worst idea ever” is nominalism—the idea that universals are only names or concepts and have no reality other than as names or concepts. Truth, beauty and goodness are only what cultures or even individuals say they are. Commonly this is called “social constructivism” and I run up against it all the time, every day. This causes me tremendous cognitive dissonance, but I have learned (mostly) to live with it. For some decades now I find it difficult to encounter anyone who is not a social constructivist. Social constructivism—all the way down—is the primary academic manifestation of nominalism. Most Americans are brainwashed into it. The result is a disintegrating culture where any meeting of the minds is impossible so power is the only way to settle “big disagreements.” Truth itself is largely gone, so what takes its place is what works to promote “my empowerment.” (“My” here stands for “mine alone” or “mine and people like me.”) Even the whole idea of “America” is now lost; there are only competing visions of “America”—except perhaps as a geographical entity.

The same is increasingly true of “Christianity.” Because even Christians have almost no understanding of Christianity it is endlessly flexible and compatible with almost anything and everything. This really became clear in the 1960s with the rise of “Christian atheism.” Now, theologian Michael Horton has identified “Christless Christianity” and I agree with him (for once)—that this whatever-it-is is “there” even though it is not, of course, real Christianity. But I can only say it is not real Christianity because I believe real Christianity exists and is not just a social construction.

*Note to commenters: This blog is not a discussion board; please respond with a question or comment only to me. If you do not share my evangelical Christian perspective (very broadly defined), feel free to ask a question for clarification, but know that this is not a space for debating incommensurate perspectives/worldviews. In any case, know that there is no guarantee that your question or comment will be posted by the moderator or answered by the writer. If you hope for your question or comment to appear here and be answered or responded to, make sure it is civil, respectful, and “on topic.” Do not comment if you have not read the entire post and do not misrepresent what it says. Keep any comment (including questions) to minimal length; do not post essays, sermons or testimonies here. Do not post links to internet sites here. This is a space for expressions of the blogger’s (or guest writers’) opinions and constructive dialogue among evangelical Christians (very broadly defined).

The “Ultimate” and the “Penultimate”: An Important Distinction in Christian Ethics

Lately I’ve been re-reading Bonhoeffer’s Ethics. It’s a collection of essays edited by Bonhoeffer’s good friend and protégé Eberhard Bethge. Many of the essays were found after Bonhoeffer’s death. Some of them were hidden in his parents’ attic and others were buried in their backyard. Bethge collected them and put them some kind of order, although, as many commentators and reviewers have mentioned, the order seems odd. But my point here is not about the architecture of the book; it is only about one major contribution of Bonhoeffer to Christian ethics—the clear distinction between the “ultimate” and the “penultimate.”

However, I’m not even going to spend time here quoting Bonhoeffer or sticking closely to his own words about the subject. If you don’t believe me about Bonhoeffer, check it out for yourself. This is not really about Bonhoeffer, per se. It is about my adoption and adaptation of his distinction between the “ultimate” and the “penultimate” and its relevance to Christian ethics.

*Sidebar: The opinions expressed here are my own (or those of the guest writer); I do not speak for any other person, group or organization; nor do I imply that the opinions expressed here reflect those of any other person, group or organization unless I say so specifically. Before commenting read the entire post and the “Note to commenters” at its end.* 

Basically, the ultimate is what ought to be the case in a perfect world—a world we hope for, look forward to based on God’s promises, and strive to actualize now, in this world, as much as possible. The penultimate is what is actually possible and sometimes must be the case in this world that is not yet that future perfect world. “Must be the case” here only means what theologian John Stackhouse means in his excellent book Making the Best of It: Following Christ in the Real World. It means (for me) the best that we can do, given the limitations of this “not yet perfect” world.

It seems clear to me that Bonhoeffer was a pacifist and believed that in a perfect world with no bloody dictators or genocides or other evils preying on innocent people we Christians should be absolutely and always non-violent. On the other hand, as I have argued here before, I know from reading Bethge’s magisterial biography of Bonhoeffer that, when presented with the opportunity and (he believed) necessity of participating in a plot to assassinate Hitler, he chose the penultimate—that which is less than perfect but necessary given reality as we know and live in it now.

The ultimate, then, is what God calls us to. But sometimes God calls us to what is impossible—for now, given reality as it is before the great liberation of the creation from bondage to decay (Romans 8).

This means, for example, that I can be a pacifist with regard to the ultimate while acknowledging the necessity of violence penultimately. That does not endorse violence; it only reluctantly acknowledges that violence sometimes cannot be avoided. I have often referred to the movie The Machine Gun Preacher as an illustration of this distinction. This newly minted Christian, recently converted, went on a mission trip to a part of Africa dominated by a guerilla militia that was killing women and children and kidnapping children into their ranks to commit horrible acts of violence. He, the so-called “Machine Gun Preacher,” was thrust into a situation where he felt he had to participate in a violent reaction against that militia—to save children’s lives.

Bethge says that Bonhoeffer asked what is the duty of a Christian who sees a madman driving a vehicle into a crowd of people, killing many of them? According to Bethge, Bonhoeffer’s response to his own question was that the Christian’s duty in that situation is to get the madman out from behind the wheel of the vehicle by whatever means necessary. Looking back on Bonhoeffer’s life during World War 2 it’s difficult to resist the thought that this parable was meant to explain his participation in the plot to assassinate Hitler and overthrow the Nazi regime.

Sidebar: I have already used Bethge’s biography to contradict those pacifists who recently have argued that Bonhoeffer did not participate in an assassination plot. There is no doubt that he did. He even told Bethge that he would shoot Hitler himself if he could. His co-conspirators turned down his offer. Read Bethge’s magisterial biography of Bonhoeffer and then you will have no need to read any later one.

Back to the “ultimate” versus the “penultimate” in Christian ethics. The word “versus” is not quite right. In Christian ethics the two are interdependent. We do not play them off against each other. The penultimate is judged and purified and driven by the ultimate. The ultimate is always kept in mind as the goal, the perhaps impossible possibility to strive for anyway. I would even say that the penultimate, when it clashes with the ultimate (and there’s no other reason for the distinction), is sin. Violence is always sin. But God is gracious and merciful and knows our weakness and the “not-yetness” of the reality in which we live. God does not expect us to live always and only in the ultimate yet because that is impossible.

A question that naturally arises is how do we know when the penultimate is forgivable? The only answer can be—when the ultimate demands it. What is the ultimate? Love. Not sentimental, romantic love as a feeling but benevolence toward being (Jonathan Edwards).

Yes, this means we, Christians, are caught in an existential crisis situation—between the commands of perfection and the demands of the messy reality around us. We cannot wiggle out of it. We cannot live our lives as if only the ultimate is real and we cannot live our lives as if only the penultimate is real. Both are real. In this live, before death, before the resurrection and restoration of all things in the eschaton, we live in the penultimate, not the ultimate, but we keep our “eyes” on the ultimate and constantly judge “what is good and necessary” by the ultimate and the sad reality of the penultimate.

There is no perfection in this world, but there can be penultimate acts that push toward the ultimate even as they fall short and even sometimes contradict the perfection of the ultimate.

*Note to commenters: This blog is not a discussion board; please respond with a question or comment only to me. If you do not share my evangelical Christian perspective (very broadly defined), feel free to ask a question for clarification, but know that this is not a space for debating incommensurate perspectives/worldviews. In any case, know that there is no guarantee that your question or comment will be posted by the moderator or answered by the writer. If you hope for your question or comment to appear here and be answered or responded to, make sure it is civil, respectful, and “on topic.” Do not comment if you have not read the entire post and do not misrepresent what it says. Keep any comment (including questions) to minimal length; do not post essays, sermons or testimonies here. Do not post links to internet sites here. This is a space for expressions of the blogger’s (or guest writers’) opinions and constructive dialogue among evangelical Christians (very broadly defined).

Why I Am Disobeying the Bible

I was brought up to believe, as I was taught, that a true Christian always obeyed biblical commandments with certain rare exceptions. One such exception had to do with the Old Testament. We did not believe Christians were expected to observe all the ceremonial laws of the Old Testament that pertained to Israel, to the Hebrew people. For example, we did not believe circumcision or strict adherence to dietary laws or observance of Saturday as the Sabbath were necessary for Christians. However, clear New Testament commandments were to be strictly obeyed with few, if any exceptions.

In 1966, in the midst of the radical, death-of-God theologies and the controversy surrounding them, Episcopal theologian-ethicist Joseph Fletcher published Situation Ethics: The New Morality. Almost immediately my spiritual mentors reacted negatively, very negatively. Discussions about “convictions” versus “inviolable rules” died down as fundamentalist spiritual leaders loudly condemned situation ethics—often without reading the book.

My intention here is not to review Situation Ethics (the book) again, but to point out that there are times when a situation requires disobeying a clear New Testament commandment.

According to Hebrews 10:25 we Christians should not be “giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing.” The context makes clear that this commandment refers to Christians meeting together for “church”—Christian fellowship for the purpose of exhorting and encouraging one another.

When I was growing up in the “thick” of fundamentalism (in its Pentecostal expression) this verse allowed exceptions for those who could not attend church due to health problems. However, in the churches I grew up in (two—one from birth to age 11 and the other from age 11 until much later) the churches always opened and held worship and Bible studies regardless of weather or crises in the social order or anything. Sometimes, due to weather, for example, people would walk a mile or more to church in knee-deep snow. I do not recall us ever cancelling church.

However, now, in the Spring of 2020, nearly all churches in America and possibly around the world, are closed even on Sunday morning. Does “streaming worship” count as “meeting together” in the sense meant by Hebrews 10:25? I think not.

*Sidebar: The opinions expressed here are my own (or those of the guest writer); I do not speak for any other person, group or organization; nor do I imply that the opinions expressed here reflect those of any other person, group or organization unless I say so specifically. Before commenting read the entire post and the “Note to commenters” at its end.*

However, this COVID-19 virus crisis illustrates how most, if not all, specific biblical commandments allow exceptions or we must make exceptions to them given specific circumstances not envisioned by the authors of the New Testament.

I am involved in a very long, difficult research project about the history of Christian ethics. I am finding some very surprising things. Martin Luther, for example, implicitly permitted Prince Philip of Hesse, a major supporter of the Reformation, to marry a second wife while still married to his very ill first wife. But even more shocking, Luther argued that if a woman marries a man and discovers he is impotent (or he may have meant sterile or both) she may have sex with his brother in order to have children. You don’t believe me? Read his treatise “Advice to the Nobility of the German Nation” all the way to the end.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote an essay about lying which is included in his Ethics book edited by Eberhard Bethge. There this later follower of Luther argued that lying can be permitted because we do not owe some people the truth. Although he gave an illustration from childhood, anyone who knows that when he wrote this essay he was involved in a plot to assassinate Hitler knows that he was probably justifying lying to Nazis in order to save Jews and other potential victims of the German regime.

I will be disobeying Hebrews 10:25 this Sunday—as I have been for two Sundays recently and probably will for several more Sundays. (Who knows how many or for how long?) Even extremely conservative Christian churches are canceling their services and closing their doors—indefinitely—in direct violation of Hebrews 10:25. Or is it a violation of Hebrews 10:25? Like many biblical commandments that do not actually allow exceptions, many experts in biblical hermeneutics can and will argue that “social distancing” is not a violation of Hebrews 10:25—by assuming that the author of Hebrews would agree with this exception, that he (or she) did not actually mean “no exceptions.”

Obviously here I am simply pointing out the truth of some form of “situation ethics” without agreeing with Fletcher’s “new morality” all the way. But even Augustine famously said (as Fletcher loved to point out) “Love and do as you please.” In other words, for both Augustine and Fletcher, true love, charity, what Jonathan Edwards called “benevolence towards being” (On the Nature of True Virtue), could serve as the only Christian “rule” if it could be lived out consistently.

Love for others demands that in this particular situation in which we find ourselves in the Spring of 2020 we set aside a strict interpretation of Hebrews 10:25 and forsake meeting together for Christian worship and fellowship. I am as sure as I can be that the author of Hebrews did not think sending letters to each other counted as meeting together. So I do not think he (or she) would have agreed that “virtual church” counts as “meeting together.”

Yet, there are times and circumstances in which a particular biblical commandment has to be set aside and violated when love demands it. Not “love” as vulgarized in popular culture as a feeling but love as Edwards rightly defined it—“benevolence toward being” and especially toward the vulnerable and weak.

The grave danger, however, is that people who get used to forsaking meeting together for this good reason, not spreading a potentially deadly virus during a pandemic, will stay away from church after the pandemic ends. Church leaders need to find ways to stay in close “touch” virtually, by e-mail and streaming video, etc., with members and attenders during this extremely unusual “situation” that demands a kind of “teleological suspension of the ethical” (Kierkegaard).

I am not advocating Fletcher’s peculiar “situation ethics” in which, seemingly, anyway, he suggested discarding rules altogether and encouraging people to live ethically solely by the principle of “love.” We need rules, but all rules are “rules of thumb,” in the sense that they must be open to exceptions. Not frivolous exceptions like the teenage boy in my church youth group (when I was as teenager) who talked openly about “sin breaks.” And he didn’t mean breaking away from sin; he (and some of his friends) meant that they felt perfectly free to sin occasionally because striving to obey God’s rules was just too hard (especially seemingly for adolescent boys).

*Note to commenters: This blog is not a discussion board; please respond with a question or comment only to me. If you do not share my evangelical Christian perspective (very broadly defined), feel free to ask a question for clarification, but know that this is not a space for debating incommensurate perspectives/worldviews. In any case, know that there is no guarantee that your question or comment will be posted by the moderator or answered by the writer. If you hope for your question or comment to appear here and be answered or responded to, make sure it is civil, respectful, and “on topic.” Do not comment if you have not read the entire post and do not misrepresent what it says. Keep any comment (including questions) to minimal length; do not post essays, sermons or testimonies here. Do not post links to internet sites here. This is a space for expressions of the blogger’s (or guest writers’) opinions and constructive dialogue among evangelical Christians (very broadly defined).

What I Mean by “Moderate” or “Progressive” Evangelical

I often identify myself as an evangelical Christian, but especially these days—since at least 2016—I have to modify “evangelical” because so many Americans misidentify the label and the category. I have explained here many times before why I will not simply give up the label. Historically-theologically, even in contemporary culture and religion, there is no better label to describe my particular brand of Christianity. Yes, I use other labels such as “Arminian” and “Baptist,” but they cannot substitute for “evangelical.” For me, “evangelical” rises above all other labels except “Christian.” (Yes, in some contexts I do feel it important to also say that I am a Protestant, but rarely does anyone think otherwise as I move almost exclusively in Protestant circles. And if I say that I am an evangelical Christian very few people think I am Catholic as “evangelical” is not a common label used by Catholics.)

I have found no good substitute for “evangelical;” all other candidates have just as many and as troubling misconceptions attached to them.

For me, in the circles in which I move (write, speak, etc.), I cannot avoid identifying my theological-spiritual “flavor” of Christianity. And the institution where I have worked for twenty-one years advertises itself as “evangelical,” “orthodox,” and “in the Baptist tradition.” So I often am asked what I mean by “evangelical.” I am always happy to explain that by it I do not mean anything political; the evangelical brand or flavor of Christianity does not (historically) indicate a political view.

To those of you who question that, may I respectfully point out that “evangelicalism” is a world wide phenomenon; it is not “American” per se. There are evangelical Christians all over the world. So far as I know it is only in America in the recent past that “evangelical” has come to be identified with a particular political stance.

I approach all labels and categories in religion historically and refuse to tie them exclusively with a passing fad or fashion. To me, “evangelical Christianity” arose in the “evangelical awakenings” in Europe and America in the eighteenth century. I often mention two major prototypes of evangelical Christianity in the English speaking world while acknowledging that evangelical Christianity has holder roots and precursors in many countries (especially in northern Europe). The two are Jonathan Edwards and John Wesley—both born in 1703. Both, along with many other leaders of the evangelical awakenings, believed in and taught the necessity of a born again experience for authentic Christian identity (being “saved”).

*Sidebar: The opinions expressed here are my own (or those of the guest writer); I do not speak for any other person, group or organization; nor do I imply that the opinions expressed here reflect those of any other person, group or organization unless I say so specifically. Before commenting read the entire post and the “Note to commenters” at its end.*

Why do I add “moderate” and/or “progressive” to “evangelical” when I identify myself as evangelical? Simply to distinguish my brand of evangelicalism from fundamentalism. Most fundamentalist Christians in America especially also now identify as “evangelical.” I won’t say they aren’t. But I do not want to be lumped in with them by people who have come to think of evangelical Christianity as fundamentalist Christianity.

My series here about theological questions is my attempt to explain “moderate-to-progressive evangelical Christianity.” Another label might simply be “non-fundamentalist evangelical Christianity,” but I prefer to identify my own spiritual-theological identity positively rather than negatively (by what it is not).

For me, a major issue in pushing me to identify as moderate-to-progressive (or one of those adjectives) is biblical inerrancy. I could embrace the concept when and if it only meant/means “perfection with respect to purpose,” but I believe the word itself implies something that is not compatible with any close study of the Bible itself. Almost every lay Christian I know (and also many pastors) think “biblical inerrancy” requires a literal interpretation of the first chapters of Genesis and of most of the book of Revelation. Also, most lay Christians I know (and many pastors) think “biblical inerrancy” requires a forced harmonizing of passages in the Bible that seem to refer to the same event.

Also, as a moderate-to-progressive evangelical I am open to “new light” emerging out of faithful and fresh interpretations of the Bible. Two examples are open theism and N. T. Wright’s (and others’) new interpretation of Paul on the subject of justification. Fundamentalists and conservative evangelicals (and it’s often difficult to tell the difference) are usually closed-minded toward any reconstruction of traditional Protestant doctrines. They tend to elevate something like nineteenth century theologian Charles Hodge’s Systematic Theology to the status of the “last word” in constructive Christian theology. They tend to treat Hodge or someone like Hodge as virtually equal with Scripture itself in terms of a system of biblical doctrine. Ironically, they might disagree with his ecclesiology and his eschatology, but in other areas of doctrine he (or someone like him) becomes a kind of magisterium for modern evangelical thought.

My point is that conservative evangelicals, especially fundamentalists, become extremely nervous and react in knee-jerk fashion against any new interpretation of Scripture. As one said publicly (I was there) “If it’s new, it can’t be true and if it’s true it can’t be new.” And the context of his saying made abundantly clear that he was talking about interpretations of the Bible.

I used to describe myself as a “postconservative evangelical” but that was so widely misunderstood, in spite of all my attempts to explain it, that I had to give it up. I was, for example, confronted about it by my former colleague Millard Erickson who simply could not accept that it doesn’t mean “liberal.” I had other, similar encounters where no  matter how much I explained the adjective people simply could not accept that it didn’t mean “theologically liberal.” My own opinion is that many such people cannot accept that there are more than two options in theology. For them a theologian is either liberal or conservative. But that was at a time when “conservative” was being identified, in my opinion, with a new kind of fundamentalism.

Being moderately evangelical, progressively evangelical, postconservatively evangelical does not mean being open to anything and everything new and it does not mean allowing culture to determine doctrine or ethics—for Christians. It means being open to new insight, new light, new interpretations of the Bible and of traditional Christianity insofar as they are they are either required by fresh and faithful interpretation of the Bible itself or can make a strong case for that.

*Note to commenters: This blog is not a discussion board; please respond with a question or comment only to me. If you do not share my evangelical Christian perspective (very broadly defined), feel free to ask a question for clarification, but know that this is not a space for debating incommensurate perspectives/worldviews. In any case, know that there is no guarantee that your question or comment will be posted by the moderator or answered by the writer. If you hope for your question or comment to appear here and be answered or responded to, make sure it is civil, respectful, and “on topic.” Do not comment if you have not read the entire post and do not misrepresent what it says. Keep any comment (including questions) to minimal length; do not post essays, sermons or testimonies here. Do not post links to internet sites here. This is a space for expressions of the blogger’s (or guest writers’) opinions and constructive dialogue among evangelical Christians (very broadly defined).