"What? You too? I thought I was the only one."

Here’s a problem for the traditional definition of knowledge as “justified true belief.” Let’s say I want to go to the movies and re-watch: ”The Twilight of Forgotten Moments.” Having already seen the film in it’s entirety, I believe that the final images on screen will show the main character forgetting some moments. It certainly seems that this belief is justified, and, it turns out, the final images on screen do turn out to show the main character forgetting some moments. So we seem to have a justified true belief here, and thus we can say that I knew that the final images on screen would turn out to be what they did turn out to be. But here’s the kicker: unbeknownst to me, this particular film has an alternate ending, and 50% of all showings featured the other ending. Now, given this new information, should we still say that I possessed knowledge of how the film would end? Since I could hardly be expected to know that there was an alternate ending playing (the studios having kept it secret), it seems that the belief was still justified. And the belief still turned out to be true, so on the traditional definition we have a clear case of knowledge. Nevertheless it seems difficult to say, given that I could have so easily been wrong, that I really did have knowledge.

So, what to do about that?

Informally:

1. No finite number of sins is deserving of everlasting punishment.

2. Hell is a place of everlasting punishment for a finite number of sins.

3. Therefore, hell is unjust.

There are two basic ways of answering this problem, one is to deny (1) and claim that a finite number of sins IS deserving of everlasting punishment, and the other is to deny (2) that hell is a place of everlasting punishment for a finite number of sins. With denying (1) there are at least two ways one can go. (A) One could argue that any sin, however seemingly trivial, is deserving of everlasting punishment. (B) One could argue that a particular sin (one that everyone commits) is deserving of everlasting punishment. Concerning (A) the most common argument here is that any sin is an offense against God, and since God is infinitely holy any sin committed against God is infinitely evil and therefore deserving of eternal punishment. Punching your mom is worse than punching your brother, and so punching God must be infinitely worse than that, or so the argument goes.  Concerning (B), the idea is that certain sins are not deserving of everlasting punishment, but one particular sin, the sin of rejecting Christ’s offer of forgiveness, is deserving of everlasting punishment. The argument for this will be similar to the argument for (A), this time the claim will be that the atoning work of Christ is infinitely good, and so rejecting it is infinitely bad.

Next we have the denial of premise (2), and there are of course many ways to do this. One could deny that hell is everlasting (annihilationism or universalism). One could deny that hell is punishment for a finite number of sins (one goes on sinning in hell), or one could deny that hell is really retributive punishment for a collection of individual acts of sin. This last option is associated with the idea (suggested by Charles Williams, C.S. Lewis, and others) that the eventual consequence of rejecting God is just the state of being in hell; to reject everything but one’s self is the worst state to be in.

Not all of these options are contradictory, so one may wish to choose more than one, or none at all. I will briefly mention some problems with each of the solutions:

1. The first solution would seem to imply that all sins are equally evil, (since all are infinitely bad), but this goes against our moral intuitions. It seems incredible to say that theft is deserving of the same kind of punishment as murder, for example.

2. The second solution might result in the problematic notion that hell is a result of Christ’s atoning work on the cross. Since only the rejection of that atoning work is worthy of hell, it would follow that if Christ had not come to save us from our sins, our sins would never be so bad so as to deserve hell.

3. Annihilationism and universalism may be difficult to square with Scripture, at least it seems that way to me. Concerning universalism, it should be noted that even if universalism is true, it does not follow that hell is just but only that no one goes there. If universalism says that all are saved from hell, it still faces the implication that if all needed saving from it, apparently all were deserving of it. So, by itself, universalism does not really answer the problem.

4. The fourth solution was that a person continues sinning in hell, and so continues getting punished. One problem with this is that justice is never served on this view; there is rather a continual cycle of sin and punishment. This same problem might also exist for solutions one and two, since the sin is never, at any time “paid for.” (I should note, however, that this problem assumes temporal duration in hell, which might be denied).

5. The last solution is the one I prefer, and so it is more difficult to find things wrong with it. I will therefore leave it up you to shoot it down. I should note that for C.S. Lewis, the idea is not exactly contradictory to retributive punishment as such (see Lewis’ chapter on hell in The Problem of Pain). So there are different ways one could go with this fifth solution.

NOTE: I do not mean to imply by this brief discussion that one must have a clear justification of hell in order to rationally believe in it. One might believe in everlasting punishment on biblical grounds, and admit ignorance concerning just how it is just.

I would like to open a discussion on a topic we may have little experience with or interest in discussing, but which I feel is an important one to investigate nevertheless. As we know, the Islamic religion is founded upon the Muslim holy book Qur’an, which means “the recitation.” The Prophet Muhammad claimed to receive the words of this book directly from God in the 7th century, and shortly after his death it was written down with the help of thousands of his followers who had committed the Surahs (chapters) to memory. Within the new religion, a rich oral tradition (called the Hadith) arose concerning the life and words of Muhammad, which continued without written compilation until the 9th century. At this time, the Hadith was compiled by various interpretative methods, including and excluding various pieces of literature, which led to the denominational split between such factions as Shia, Sufi, and Sunni Muslims. All forms of the Hadith record, in unbroken chains, the ones through whom each tradition has been passed down. However, various Islamic factions deny the authority of various figures throughout the Muslim timeline, allowing for the variance among different manifestations of the Hadith.

Any Muslim faction considered orthodox, or true holders of the faith, understands that the words of God in the Qur’an must be interpreted by the Hadith. “It would be meaningless,” writes Muslim scholar Ibrahim Madani, “for a Muslim to try to understand the meaning and message of the Qur’an without the Blessed Prophet as a teacher to explain it to us. Without Hadith, the iman (faith) of a Muslim is incomplete.” Because this is such common knowledge in the Muslim community, it interests me that a phenomenon known as a Quranist, or Quran-alone movement, has sprung up in recent times in order to transcend the centuries-old conflict between Shia and Sunni. This movement rejects the Hadith and all other traditions which have been handed down since the seventh century, relying on the belief that the Qur’an was meant to be interpreted privately, by every man, for knowing the truth. The mainstream organizations find the Hadith largely unusable because 1) the Hadith is not mentioned in the Quran as a source of Islamic theology and practice, 2) it was not recorded in written form until more than two centuries after the death of the prophet Muhammed, and 3) it is full of perceived internal errors and contradictions. Prominent figures in this movement include Abdulla Chakralawi of “Ahle Qur’an” (only Qur’an) and Ghulam Ahmed Pervez of “Bazm-e-Tolu-e-Islam” (the resurgence of Islam). According to Tolu-e-Islam’s mission statement, “The aim and objective of the Tolu-e-Islam Movement is to remove all non-Quranic ideologies, beliefs, and practices prevalent in present-day Islam, and replace them with Quranic concepts based upon reason and rationale.” They still find certain Hadith helpful for personal enrichment, but generally discard most based on a set of hermeneutical principles, i.e., any Hadith that go against nature or the natural sciences are discarded. In general, this would be considered a liberal, Western movement in Islam.

Of course, there has been plenty of critical scholarship written to debunk the claims of the Quranist movement. One example which you can peruse at your leisure is an essay by Dr. G. F. Haddad entitled “The Sunna as Evidence: The Probativeness of the Sunna,” which explains that it would be illogical to interpret or even believe in the Qur’an without the Hadith. However, my purpose in publishing this short post is not to deride, but to leave an open-ended question for the Sola Qurana crowd: how can this holy book be believed or interpreted when removed from its historical interpretative tradition? If you, as a Muslim, truly believe that the Qur’an, as you receive it in our day and age, is the word of God, in what sure manner do you obtain truth from it? How do you reconcile accepting the textual transmission of your book without the tradition which has accompanied it? What, if not tafsir by Hadith, allows you to read a Surah properly? It is clear that more orthodox Muslims find it necessary for their holy book to be interpreted within the context of a community, avoiding ijtihad, or “an independent decision.” This allows the book to evolve with the community and quells the tide of dispute by keeping any disagreement within the community rather than creating factions. Therefore, if you are a Quran-only believer, please offer your response to the above questions by submitting a model similarly effective to this one which avoids any sort of authoritative tradition.

What then shall we say to those who openly and secretly dissent to our most beloved of fraternal sacrements? “Isn’t WOG too much? Is WOG necessary? Is it even possible?” We will not engage in vain or idle babblings to defend ourselves, but in fact let those who oppose the occasion listen to those sages that have come before us, and in their wisdom espoused and defended our philosophy throughout the ages.

“You don’t have a character. You are a character.”

- Jack

“Gaming is the highest form of worship.”

-J.R.R Tolkein

“From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring;

renewed will be the brotherhood that was remembered, the Dice again shall be rolled.”

- J.R.R Tolkein

“Treat the humanity found both in yourself and in others such

that you treat them not merely as a means but as a game.”

- Kant’s Categorical Gameperative

“Evil is the lack and corruption of gaming”

-Saint Augustine

“Don’t touch the GM’s dice”

-Albert Einstein

“Happiness is the decrease of pain and the increase of gaming”

-J.S. Mill

“A self is a self that relates itself to a game”

-Kierkegaard

“Let my People game”

-Moses

“Hail Mary, full of grace, THE GM is with you.”

-Matt

“Blessed are the gamers for they shall win”

-Danny

“Don’t worry if its hard, if your not a friggin ‘tard, you will prevail”

-Captain Hammer

“Those who sacrifice a little gaming for a temporary reputation deserve neither”

-Benjamin Franklin

“Who then, I said, are the true philosophers? Those who are lovers of the vision of gaming”

-Plato

“Gaming is to begin with simple being-for-itslef, equal-with-itself, through the exclusion of everything other than gaming.”

-Hagel

“Give me gaming or give me death”

-Patrick Henry

“Give your Free-will a chance”

-Owner of a lonely heart

“Theres things for them to do all day long without his minding in the least; rolling dice, making characters, telling stories, being a hero, leveling up, praying, playing working. Everything has to be twisted before its of any use to us.”

-Screwtape Letters

“Maybe we are just a very advanced breed of White Monkeys on a small rock in front of our sun. But we can Game. And that makes us special.

-Stephen Hawking

“Well isn’t that special”

-Shepard Book

“It was the best of weeks, it was the worst of weeks, it was the age of victory, it was the age of defeat, it was the epoch of Displacement, it was the epoch of Godishia, it was the season of dicing, it wsa the season of gaming…”

-Charles Dickens

“Come now, insignificant mortal. Leave behind your concerns for a while, and retreat for a short time from your restless thoughts. Cast off your burdens and cares; set aside your labor and toil. Just for a little while make room for Games, and rest awhile in them.”

-Saint Anselm

And so, let us commence this years celebration of community, creativity, God, and friends.

So gentlemen, what shall we play?

John Wesley once preached a sermon against the Calvinist doctrine of predestination. It is perhaps more akin to a “rant” than a sermon. In it, I think, he often misunderstands much of what true Calvinism is trying to say, and it seems more impressive in its rhetoric, eloquence, and passion than in its arguments. Such, perhaps, is the nature of sermons. However, I would like to examine an argument presented by Wesley in his sermon, and see if I can develop it into a good argument, not against the Calvinistic doctrine of predestination, but against the notion that Adam and Eve were determined to Fall into sin and did not possess libertarian free will.

The relevant passage from Wesley’s sermon is as follows:

“To say, then, he did not intend to save all sinners, is to represent him as a gross deceiver of the people. You cannot deny that he says, “Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden.” If, then, you say he calls those that cannot come; those whom he knows to be unable to come; those whom he can make able to come, but will not; how is it possible to describe greater insincerity? You represent him as mocking his helpless creatures, by offering what he never intends to give. You describe him as saying one thing, and meaning another; as pretending the love which he had not. Him, in “whose mouth was no guile,” you make full of deceit, void of common sincerity; — then especially, when, drawing nigh the city, He wept over it, and said, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee; how often would I have gathered thy children together, — and ye would not;”EthelEsa — kai ouk EthelEsate. Now, if you say, they would, but he would not, you represent him (which who could hear?) as weeping crocodiles’ tears; weeping over the prey which he himself had doomed to destruction!”

Powerful stuff, eh? The notion I want to think about here is the idea that there is some kind of insincerity or dishonesty in God if he commands a person to do something but also determines that they not do it. This is similar to the idea that God’s commanding something might imply an ability of a person to actually do it: “‘Do this’ implies ‘you can do this’” as the saying doesn’t go. And if this is true there would seem to be a kind of inappropriateness in telling someone to do something that you know they can’t do. Like saying “can you please pass the salt” when you know that there is no salt for anyone to pass. But this is not the argument I want to think about here, and it isn’t quite what Wesley is arguing either. What Wesley is concerned about is the implication of dishonesty in God if he commands someone to do something which God has determined that they not do. Why think that this is dishonest? I think the reason for thinking that this might be dishonest is that “‘Do this’ implies ‘I want you to do this.’” If I ask you for a bit of your orange it seems safe to say not only that this implies that I want a bit of your orange, but also that it means I want a bit of your orange. On the other hand, if I determine that you do something, this also seems to imply that I want you to do it. So, if God commands you to do one thing and determines that you do another, there seems to be either a direct contradiction or that God doesn’t really mean what he says; there is insincerity in God’s commands.

In my argument I will shy away from the issue of Calvinistic predestination and see instead how this kind of thought might apply to the fall of Adam and Eve and whether it was determined or not. I choose to do this in part because I think there are a number of things about the nature of Adam and Eve’s circumstance that make the argument more difficult to defeat and perhaps more interesting.

Let us look, then, at Adam and Eve prior to their fall. The important thing about Adam and Eve, as far as this argument goes, is that they are in a state of sinlessness, and therefore their relationship with God is not hindered by sin. They are not separated by God as they were after they sinned. This is made most clear when we think of what salvation is for; since we must be reconciled to God by the death and resurrection of Christ (Romans 5), it follows that prior to sin coming into the world human beings had a real relationship with God, not separated by sin. So, when we think of Adam and Eve being commanded not to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, we must think of them as being commanded by someone who they know and with whom they have a personal relationship.

And there are important things to notice about this command as well. First, the command is directed at Adam and Eve; it is, you might say, a personal command. Second, the command is not part of what we would call “Natural Law;” there is nothing in Natural Law to indicate that eating from a tree is wrongdoing. So it is wrongdoing because God commanded it; that is, it is wrong simply because it would be disobedient. Lastly, we note that God gives a reason for the command “because in the day that you eat of it you will surely die” (Genesis 2:17). I suspect it is best to think of this as a warning. God isn’t saying that it’s wrong because of its consequences (it seems more right to say that the consequence of death is there because this is the natural consequence of disobedience to God), rather, God is giving them a warning about what will happen if they do disobey. These last two points reinforce the first point and tell us more about the relationship God has with Adam and Eve. Giving a warning about the dangers of disobedience shows that God is, so to speak, looking out for Adam and Eve; he cares about them. Also, since God is giving Adam and Eve a commandment which is not part of Natural law, we see that it is a commandment for them as human beings. It is a commandment that helps define their relationship to God (like some of the commandments God gave to his chosen people, Israel).

These considerations will become relevant as we consider the argument and its objections. On to the fun then:

1. It is impossible for God to be dishonest.

2. If a “personal” (taking “personal” to be informed by those things I mention earlier) commandment is given by God directly to persons who are in a real (and sinless) relationship with Him, the meaning of that command will include the notion that God ultimately wants those persons to obey that command, and those persons will naturally (and should) take this to mean (among other things) that God ultimately wants them to obey that command.

3. In the case of Adam and Eve, it is the case that a “personal” commandment was given by God directly to them, and they had a real (and sinless) relationship with Him.

4. Therefore, this commandment includes in it the notion that God ultimately wants Adam and Eve to obey that command and Adam and Eve would have (as they ought to) naturally have taken this to mean that God ultimately wants them to obey that command.

5. If God determines that Adam and Eve disobey the command, then it is not the case that God ultimately wants Adam and Eve to obey the command.

6. If it is not the case that God ultimately wants Adam and Eve to obey the command, and God conveys a meaning to Adam and Eve which says that God does ultimately want them to obey the command, and Adam and Eve rightly take God to mean what he conveys, there is dishonesty in God.

7. Therefore, (since there is not dishonesty in God) it is not the case that God determines Adam and Eve to disobey God.

Well that’s quite a mouthful. These premises need to be explained and defended.

My first premise is that it is impossible for God to be dishonest.

I say this because I think dishonesty is contrary to the nature of God. There are, so it seems, circumstances in which dishonesty is justifiable. But the reason to think that dishonesty is impossible for God is not that dishonesty is always immoral or unjustifiable in the normal sense, but rather that it contradicts God’s truthful nature, (it would mean that God is not Truth.) God cannot lie according to Titus 1:2, Numbers 23:19 and Hebrews 6:18. The point in all of these is that we can trust in God to keep his word. That is, since God cannot lie, we can trust what he will fulfill his promises. Note also 1 John 1:5-8, in which light and truth are so closely related, and in which it is said that “in him there is no darkness at all.” And also James 1:16-18, where light and truth are again closely related, and it is said of God “there is no variation or shifting shadow.” The point here is that if there is dishonesty in God there is darkness in God and God’s Holiness is thereby compromised. This is so even if we might think that in some cases dishonesty might be justifiable. Even if it is justifiable, it cannot appear in God because God is Truth.

My second premise is probably where most of the disagreement will lie. An objection can be made against it with some counter examples. It is where all the fun is. As such I will briefly talk about the other premises and turn to this one last.

My third premise is simply what I have observed from Scripture at the beginning about Adam and Eve and the commandment not to eat from the forbidden fruit, my fourth premise follows from the other premises. My fifth premise says that

5. If God determines that Adam and Eve disobey the command, then it is not the case that God ultimately wants Adam and Eve to obey the command.

I think this is obvious enough. The word “ultimate” is important, and will be especially controversial in the second premise. Here it should not be. The difference between an “ultimate” want and a merely “non-ultimate” want can be explained with illustrations. Perhaps some man wants to eat ice-cream. That is to say, all things being equal, he would like to be eating ice-cream. But he also wants to follow his doctor’s orders, and his doctor told him not to eat ice-cream. Suppose then that he decides in favor of following his doctor’s orders? About the eating of ice-cream, then, while he wants to eat the ice-cream in some sense, he ultimately does not want to eat the ice-cream (this being for the sake of another good: to obey his doctor). In other words, if someone asks him “would you like some ice-cream?” he may truthfully say “no,” even though, all other things being equal, he does want the ice-cream. In the case of premise one, supposing that God does determine that Adam and Eve sin; we may say that although God may, all other things being equal, want Adam and Eve to obey him (obeying God being an inherent good), he does not ultimately want them to obey him (this being for the sake of some greater good), for, if he did, he would have determined otherwise. So “ultimate want” here does not mean necessarily “what is wanted above all else.” Rather, an ultimate want is here defined like this: a want is ultimate if it is still what a person wants to happen in light of everything else.

My sixth premise says this:

6. If it is not the case that God ultimately wants Adam and Eve to obey the command, and God conveys a meaning to Adam and Eve which says that God does want them to obey the command, and Adam and Eve naturally and rightly take God to mean what he conveys, there is dishonesty in God.

The idea is that to be dishonest is to convey a meaning which is false. I would not be surprised if problems arise with this premise, but since I do not now see them I will await criticism from others.

Finally then, we must look at the real heart of the argument: the second premise.

2. If a “personal” (taking “personal” to be informed by those things I mention earlier) commandment is given by God directly to persons in a real (and sinless) relationship with Him, the meaning of that command will include the notion that God ultimately wants those persons to obey that command, and those persons will naturally (and should) take this to mean (among other things) that God ultimately wants them to obey that command.

As you may have already guessed, a common objection to this line of thinking is to deny that a commandment to do something necessarily implies that God “ultimately” wants you to do it. While it is true that God wants, all other things being equal, Adam and Eve to obey him and not fall into sin, God also knows that greater goods will come if Adam and Eve do sin. So, ultimately, God does want Adam and Eve to sin. It may be that a judge does not want to sentence a man to death, but nevertheless the judge’s commitment to justice may compel him to do this very thing. So too God may not want anyone to disobey him, but if God sees that this will result in a greater good, God nevertheless may ultimately want Adam and Eve to disobey him, and so determine them to do so. And a commandment, so it is argued, need only imply a non-ultimate want on God’s part, not an ultimate want.

It is not so clear, however, that this claim has the force of reason on its side. It seems, at least in human affairs, that commanding or asking for something does indicate that the person’s want for that thing is an ultimate want. The man who is following his doctors orders does not ask for the ice-cream. Asking for the ice-cream implies more than a non-ultimate want, it implies that the man does not ultimately want to obey his doctor, and instead ultimately wants to eat the ice-cream. If he ultimately wanted to obey the doctor, he would not ask for the ice-cream. Consider also the judge: the judge does not pardon the man, does he? If he does, it would imply that he ultimately wants the man to go free, and this is not merely a non-ultimate want. So it seems, at least from these examples, that a commandment does imply an ultimate want.

If we add to this the personal nature of the commandment, this intuition becomes stronger. Here is what I mean: Since Adam and Eve are in a sinless relationship with God, and since God is giving them a direct commandment for them, it is natural to take this to mean, not only “God prefers this action, all other things being equal” or “this is the right thing to do,” but rather; “God wants me to actually do this, this is what God wills.” And if God wants me to actually do this, it is not the case merely that God prefers that I do it all other things being equal. If you talk about Natural law and about someone who is separated by God from sin, it is easy to say that, in regards to this person, the rule “thou shalt not steal” need not convey anything more than “Stealing is against God’s law, so all other things being equal, God would want you not to do it.” But if we are talking about a direct, personal commandment to people who know and trust God, and a commandment which is for them, it is not so easy to say this; everything seems to point to the notion that God does ultimately want Adam and Eve to obey him. To reiterate, Adam and Eve have every reason to believe not just that “God’s will is for me to obey this rule all other things being equal,” but that “God has given us this command to follow, and he has given it to us personally and directly, and so God means that he wants us to actually obey the rule.” In other words, Adam and Eve are right to believe that God does want them to obey the rule in light of everything else, otherwise, why would he give so direct and personal a command?

To illustrate what I mean here a little better, suppose you read C.S. Lewis’ “on the reading of old books.” Naturally you would come to the conclusion “C.S. Lewis wants me to read old books.” But of course there could be some reason or other that C.S. Lewis may not ultimately want you to read some particular old book. But suppose C.S. Lewis takes you aside, and addresses you, and says, “read this old book or you’ll lose your soul” it’s a different story. My point is that this personal command from C.S. Lewis conveys a meaning which merely reading a book by C.S. Lewis does not.

Now, it might be said that God had to give them a command the way he did, for this is how they end up falling into sin thus leading to the greater good. But this issue is that, regardless of God’s reasons, the command conveys a certain meaning about what God wants, and this, given the other premises, indicates that God is dishonest.

There are also some counter-examples which are brought up in response to this sort of argument. The point of these counter-examples will not be to show why the argument is wrong (that is, they do not tell us which premise is false), but they say that, given Scriptural evidence to the contrary, there must be something wrong about it somewhere. One counter-example that is often brought up in these kind of debates is crucifixion the of Jesus. The cross, the greatest evil, was brought about by human hands. And yet it was also to God’s purpose. Clearly God does not, all other things being equal, want people to go about doing the greatest evil, and clearly there are commands against killing innocent men, and yet it was God’s purpose that they do this. Here it should be seen right off the bat that there is a great difference between the cases. The sin of the cross is committed by people who are not in the same kind of relationship to God as are Adam and Eve, nor is there a correlative direct and personal command from God to anyone about not killing his Son. So it is not clear in this case that there is a meaning conveyed about what God ultimately wants, as there is in the case of Adam and Eve.

A better example might be Pharaoh. Pharaoh is given what looks like a very direct and personal command from God “let my people go.” It is also not a command we could classify under “Natural Law.” God also gives Pharaoh clear warnings about what will happen if he does not. Of course, Pharaoh is not sinless, and does not have the kind of relationship with God that Adam and Eve had, but perhaps this is not so important. Doesn’t Pharaoh, given that God gives him a very specific command, rightly think that this means “God ultimately wants me to let the people go.”  Yet, contradicting this, it was God’s ultimate purpose, apparently, that Pharaoh harden his heart and not let the people go, so that God could multiply his signs and wonders (Exodus 7:3). Perhaps one of the most difficult passages in the Bible to think about is Exodus 10:16-20. Here it certainly appears as if Pharaoh is repenting to God, “please forgive my sin only this once, and make supplication to the Lord your God, that he would only remove his death from me.” But after God removes the plaugue in question (locusts, yummy), God hardens Pharaoh’s heart, thus allowing for God to wreak more havoc on the Egyptians . This is the sort of passage that the new atheists love. It looks as if Pharaoh, by his own will, does want to let the people go, and even asks for forgiveness, but God, wanting to show off, manipulates Pharaoh’s desires so that Pharaoh becomes unrepentant. How is this possibly okay? It’s as if God were a super hero, who not being able to find an evil enough villain, creates his own out of Pharaoh.

There are three basic strategies to explain how it might be okay. The first, one I’ve read in some oldish commentaries and heard in Sunday School, is that Pharaoh, for the first few chapters or so, hardened his own heart by his own free will, and this somehow gives God the right to harden Pharaoh’s heart for some of the rest of the time. This isn’t very satifactory, and probably doesn’t fit well with the text, as I will explain later.

The second, one I’ve subscribed to in the past and still agree with to some extent, notes that first of all “to harden” means “to make strong, bold, stubborn” etc. And what this second explanation says is that clearly Pharaoh’s own wicked will is to be against God and not let those people go. Sometimes, however, he loses his nerve as in chapter 10 and feigns repentance. But it isn’t real repentance, he’s only doing it because he doesn’t want locusts running all over the place. So when God “hardens Pharaoh’s heart” it isn’t that God is changing Pharaoh’s will, it’s that God is emboldening Pharaoh to be true to his real choice. Far from contradicting Pharaoh’s free choice, God’s hardening of Pharaoh’s heart allows Pharaoh to make a real choice without having to be tied down to his emotions. I think there is some truth to this explanation. For one thing it does seem that Pharaoh is repenting for the wrong reasons. And I also want to affirm that God’s hardening is not creating an evil in Pharaoh that isn’t already there. But I think this explanation is not completely satisfactory. For one thing, in other places God seem to accept not so perfect repentances. While being afraid of getting blasted to nothing is perhaps not the best motivation for repenting, is this not the motivation of, for example, the repentance of the Ninivites?

The last explanation, which I think is the best one, notes that in the text there does not seem to be any real difference between God’s hardening pharaoh’s heart and pharaoh hardening his own heart (contrary to explanation number 1). This seems accurate to me. Sometimes the scripture says “and pharaoh hardened his heart,” sometimes “God hardened pharaoh’s heart” and sometimes simply “pharaoh’s heart was hardened.” There does not seem to be any indication that we the readers are supposed to think there is any significance in these different phrases. The clincher for me is the combo of 7:3 and verses like 8:15. God predicts in 7:3, “I will harden pharaoh’s heart.” And in 8:15 it says “when Pharaoh saw there was relief, he hardened his heart, just as the Lord had said.” [italics mine]. If 8:15 is to be taken as fulfilling God’s word in 7:3, it seems impossible that we can say that there is really any difference intended between “God hardened” and “Pharaoh hardened.” These are just different phrases to talk about the same event. How can this be so? One explanation is that determinism is true and is somehow compatible with human’s causing things. So God determines Pharaoh to do something, and it is also true that Pharaoh does it. The other explanation is that some action of God is a necessary but not sufficient cause for Pharaoh hardening his heart. As such it is proper for God to say “I hardened Pharaoh’s heart” even though God’s actions do not guarantee that this will be so.  Think about the phrase “I made Bob mad when I talked too much.” Clearly, this is consistent with “Bob made himself mad,” and it doesn’t have to mean “It was impossible for Bob to have chosen not to be mad.” Or, how about “she turned some heads” Obviously, it was they who turned their heads, and they didn’t have to. But it is normal to say that “she turned their heads,” since if she had not have been there, their heads would not have turned. Turning then to the difficult 10:16-20, we note that when it says “God hardened Pharaoh’s heart” this is not supposed to refer to a different event than “Pharaoh hardened his heart.” According to the explanation we are entertaining, God does something which causes (not necessarily deterministically) Pharaoh to harden his own heart, and what event seems to cause Pharaoh’s heart to be hardened? Pharaoh’s heart is hardened when God does the very thing that Pharaoh asks. That is, it is when God removes the locusts. And this follows the pattern of what has happened before. Although it is not so clear in 10:20, I think we can assume that Pharaoh’s reason for hardening his heart is no different than in 8:15, that is, when “he saw that there was relief.” In other words, so the explanation goes, Pharaoh’s heart is hardened when God shows his mercy towards him. It is a picture of the idea that the love of God, to those who will not accept it, is like an unbearable fire.

This is all very well, but in what way does this solve the problem of dishonesty? After all, it is still the case that God seems to be doing whatever he does (deterministically or not) to Pharaoh with the intention that Pharaoh will not let the people go. And it is still the case that Pharaoh seems to be right in thinking that God wants him to let the people go. The answer is that, while God does intend to use Pharaoh to “multiply signs and wonders,” this does not mean that this is God’s ultimate want for Pharaoh (it is only under determinism that we must assume this). It may be that God really does ultimately want Pharaoh to let the people go, but of course this will be impossible if Pharaoh is not willing. Whether we say that Pharaoh’s repentance is acceptable to God or not, it is Pharaoh who choses not to continue in it. It is not as if God ignores the repentance and says “never mind, I’m going to harden your heart,” rather, God reacts to Pharaoh’s repentance by showing his mercy to Pharaoh (he ends the plague) and this is what hardens Pharaoh’s heart, as it did earlier. So, what I’m suggesting is that in 7:3, when God says that he hardens Pharaoh’s heart in order to multiply his signs and wonders, he is not necessarily conveying what his highest desire for what Pharaoh will chose, but is saying this given what he knows Pharaoh will do.

In other words, on the condition that Pharaoh does not repent and let the people go (which God does want Pharaoh to do, as evidenced by the fact that God commands it), God decides to use Pharaoh to his glory. This same notion can also work for the attempted use of the cross as a counter example. God might ultimately desire (per impossible) that the world of darkness welcome the light. But given that God knows that this is not possible (the world of darkness inevitably hates the light), God uses the what darkness naturally does to rescue the world from darkness.

I have argued that Adam and Eve’s being determined to sin, given God’s commandment to the contrary, implies a dishonesty in God, thus Adam and Eve were not determined to sin. Something like this argument has been swimming in my head for a long time, and only recently has it occurred to me to think of it the way I have presented it here. I offer it, of course, tentatively, hoping that even those who agree with my conclusion will offer some criticism, and with the (unrealistic) hope that I will welcome being proved wrong.

Yes, I am opening the free-will can of worms. Let’s crack the puppy open. I’ve had a little to drink and I am feeling pretty limbered up:

(1) Evil exists and has a cause
(2) If every act follows necessarily from previous acts and we believe God is the ultimate originator of all acts, then God would ultimately be the cause of evil.
(3) If God is the cause evil then he is not worthy of worship.
(4) However, we believe that God is worthy of worship.
(5) Therefore, God cannot be the cause of evil and God cannot be the ultimate originator of evil.
(6) Evil exists and must originate from somewhere other than God.
(7) Therefore, evil must either arise spontaneously or from persons.
(8) Evil cannot arise spontaneously.
(9) Therefore, evil must arise from persons and cannot ultimately be caused by God.
(10) If evil must arise from persons and cannot ultimately be caused by God then those persons must have some means by which they can cause evil.
(11) Therefore, those persons must have some means by which they can cause evil.

I think there are three essential premises to my argument: (1), (3), and (8). Everything seems to follow pretty well. (1) is self-evident and needs no prior argument. (8) is just are restatment of (1) and is not so much a premise as it just follows from (1).

(3) I don’t know how much I have to argue for this, but I will nonetheless. Is something worthy to be worshiped because it is powerfull? The whole concept of Holiness does contain ”otherness,” but it is also something that makes it worthy of worship. I really don’t have an argument, I just believe that it is a basic Christian tenant that God is Good and Holiness is antithetical to causing evil.

Suppose we agree to the argument; could it then lead to a conclusion that we are unwilling to accept? What I mean by this is if we accept (11) we have to explain it. We have already ruled out that it can be caused by God, but evil must come from somewhere. It seems as if our only option left is chaos or spontenaity in persons as the cause of at least some actions.

Is this a problem? Well, it certainly can be. We have to have some explanation for why we do something rather than something else and have it remain intelligible. If our actions are just purely spontaneous, we have no real control over them and the whole point of free-will is lost. And control is really what we are after here, isn’t it?

The Anselmian solution to this problem is to state that while actions do arise spontaneously, we act teleologically. So, the action arises towards some end goal. I think this satisfies the intelligibility of actions problem because they are, in fact, intelligible.

I will end here and open it up for discussion.

WMΩ

1. Is it wrong for an executioner to execute a man he knows (or believes) to be innocent?

2. Is it wrong for an executioner to execute a man if he knows (or believes) that capitol punishment is wrong?

3. Is it wrong for an executioner to execute a man if it is in fact true that capitol punishment is wrong?

4. Is it wrong for an executioner to execute a man if he knows that, while the man is guilty of the crime he committed, he also knows (or believes) that the law that he broke is not deserving of death?

These are similar questions, but it may not be necessary to answer them all the same way. One way out of these difficulties is to always hire executioners who don’t know anything.

The “my vote doesn’t count argument,” we can put as follows:

(1). My particular vote(s) will have no effect on the outcome of the election (and therefore no important effect on anything at all).
(2). I cannot be morally obligated to do something which will have no important effect on anything at all.
(3). Therefore, I am not morally obligated to vote.

The obviously weak premise here is premise 2. Without getting into any details, it turns out that in order to deal with some obvious objections to premise 2, the argument will have to morph into something like this:

(1). My particular vote(s) will have no effect on the outcome of the election (and therefore no important effect on anything at all).
(4). I cannot be morally obligated to do something which (a) will have no important effect on anything at all, and (b) is an action for which the only reason to think it morally obligatory is that it would have an important effect on something.
(5.) Voting is an action for which the only reason to think it morally obligatory is that it would have an important effect on something.
(3). Therefore, I am not morally obligated to vote.

And premise (5) is rather dubious, for it could be that there are other reasons for finding voting morally obligatory apart from it’s effect or lack of effect on society. Mainly, it could be that voting is a duty that comes along with being an American citizen, and that it doesn’t especially matter what effect it has. There is more to say about this, but a more interesting question is whether the first premise is true; is it really the case that a single person’s vote has no effect on the results of the election? It seems at first that it doesn’t, consider the following:

(6). X will pass of fail by 2 or more votes.
(7). If X will pass or fail by 2 or more votes, X will pass or fail whether I vote for X or not.
(8). If X will pass of fail whether I vote for X or not, my vote for or against X will have no effect on whether or not X passes.
(9). Therefore, my vote for or against X will have no effect on whether or not X passes (or, my vote does not count).

Premise (6) can never be known to an absolute certainty, but it seems universally true of any modern election, for even when the vote is extremely close, the difference between passing or failing is a great deal more than 2 votes. However, I think there is a problem with this argument. Oddly as it may seem, I think premise (8) is false. To see why, consider a baseball analogy.

Suppose the Atlanta Braves defeat the Chicago Cubs by a score of 3 to 1. The Braves achieved this score by three separate solo home runs. Now, it seems true to say that if one particular home run had not occurred, the outcome of the game would have been the same; the Braves still would have won. But which home run was the one that didn’t count? By the above argument, it seems that each home run hitter can say to himself: “we would have won the game even if I did not hit my home run, therefore my home run had no effect on the outcome of the game.” But surely this can’t be right. There is a simple mistake here, I think. Something can have a partial effect on an outcome without being essential to that outcome. Each home run is partially responsible for the Braves winning the game, but no particular home run is essential to the Braves winning the game. And the same goes for voting. Premise (8) basically says that if my vote is not essential to the outcome of an election, it follows that my vote has no effect at all. But from the baseball analogy I think we see that this premise is false. So perhaps your vote counts after all.

Among the “New Atheists” of our day, there is a variety of explanations for the origins and formative stages of our universe. Unable to posit a First Mover or other sort of pre-existent being, the atheist must look elsewhere for an explanation as to the emergence of matter and energy; an answer to the question of why there is something instead of nothing. With any type of personal being out of the question, axioms and metaphysical urges at the basis of reality tend to be the dieux du jour. Atheists conclude that such principles are enough to explain all questions of origin, and have attempted to use them as such in numerous ways.
Well-known biologist Richard Dawkins, for example, references such ideas as “the selfish gene” and natural selection mixed with expanses of time as the so-called gods of science, which he describes in his book The Blind Watchmaker as guiding the slow process of changes over time. “God exists,” he writes in The Selfish Gene, if only in the form of a meme with high survival value, or infective power, in the environment provided by human culture.” He very clearly states that Darwin’s theory is not one of chance at all, but rather of large improbable changes being broken into small, less improbable ones over periods of time. Without the guidance of natural selection to ensure that the most sustainable organisms, survive, evolution would have failed; for this reason, Dawkins posits natural selection as a sort of higher power, a guiding principle that presides over humanity’s origins. He makes sure to explain in The God Delusion that “God in this sophisticated, physicist’s sense, bears no resemblance to the God of the Bible or of any other major religion.” The resemblance is not strong, but it is there. Natural selection and genetic “selfishness” are all-encompassing truths about the universe that even Dawkins would agree are not true because they accurately describe reality, but rather are true on their own merits, with reality following suit. They create order among the mathematical sets of existence, an order which is pre-defined and not arbitrary. This must mean they are either the work of a higher intelligence, or they are themselves the higher intelligence. Dawkins seems to promote the latter; especially since his usage of such axioms as intelligences, or deities, would come under his criticism of the God hypothesis in The God Delusion, that it “postulates what it is trying to explain, that is complexity.” The scientific principles of Dawkins constitute the clearest example of an atheistic attempt to explain origins. Whereas the largest percentage of New Atheists are sophists whose goal is not to forge a new model for the explanation of life, but rather tear down all existing models, Dawkins is to be appreciated for his creative approach and measured application of the importance of natural selection. However, because the remainder of his philosophy concerning origins is so bare of other organizing principles that allow him to avoid his nemesis, chance, these must be seen as his deities, no matter how “sophisticated” he considers them.
Dawkins’ conception of god is not wholly wrong, nor is it wholly new. Platonic philosophy provides similar descriptions of god’s existence in such works as the Timaeus, where reference is made to a Demiurge, which is deity-like in that it serves as an eternal, uncreated, organizing principle for the similarly eternal and uncreated substance of which all nature consists. It springs, according to some Platonic works, from the source of The One, and is the contact of this one with the physical world, and represents the organizational and rational actions of The One. Plato’s description of an organizing principle and its connection to an entity are indeed far more mystical than Dawkins’, and assume out of hand the existence of nonphysical reality, but in fact serve much the same purpose as natural selection and “selfish” genepools. Dawkins and Plato both believe the same thing- that our world exists, and it is beautiful and organized, and there is a reason for it. They simply approach the mechanics of this belief in different ways.
Is there any point, then, in debating the question of identity as concerns this organizing principle? Is the “unseen artisan” any different when it is a Gnostic entity as opposed to a set of scientific theories? Why continue tearing down the beliefs of religious people at all, if one is an atheist; or why “follow the argument wherever it leads” in the Timaeus (besides the fact that it makes for a smashing good dialogue)? Why continue to evangelize faith to unbelievers if one is a Christian? That the difference is important is obvious. Its importance is manifested through the inherent truth of the God hypothesis, whether it be Dawkins’, Plato’s, or even Christ’s. Each of these three would agree that there is nothing relative or subjective about the truth claims of his hypothesis. The difference between them lies along three clear-cut lines: the question of a deity being personal or impersonal, the truth or falsehood of the claim that the world is lost and the deity brings some form of restoration or redemption, and the type of response demanded by the deity.
I will begin with the assumption that it is better for a deity to be personal than impersonal. This seems apparent for three reasons: first, a personal deity is easier to connect with on an emotional level instead of just a rational one; second, a personal deity is more readily seen as a leader because humans are personal, and to a certain extent we want our leaders just like ourselves; third, it is easier for a personal deity to communicate what humans are supposed to do in response (this is closely tied to the third delineation from the previous paragraph). In dealing with the first reason, why is it better to have an emotional connection to one’s deity? Emotions, which are generally accepted as the “language of the soul,” exist in the realm of “feeling” which is largely untouched by reason, at least according to classical distinctions. The emotions which humans possess place them with one foot in this realm (so to speak), setting them apart from plants and animals in a way that physical senses and even logic and reason do not. A fox can act upon the idea that five plump, young hens are better than three, but he cannot decide whether this sort of carnivorous barbarity depresses him much. As the force behind the existence of all that is, including souls and emotions, one would assume that it would gratify the deity concept to be able to further guide its creation through emotional connection. The emotional connection is reinforced and expanded by the reason number two, the similarity connection. We personal beings would be likely to reject a deity which set itself up as our universal ruler and protector without possessing the characteristic of “personality” which enables contact, affection, instruction, and many other positive factors. With these factors gone, as is demonstrated in reason number three, communication would disappear, leaving humans to discover through trial and error just how the deity would prefer we live (the “selfish” gene, for example, punishes disobedience by the end of a certain genetic strain). Therefore, it is easy to see why belief in a personal God, such as the Christian God, is beneficially different from Dawkins or even from Plato (though the latter is debatable, and is dependent upon analysis of scholarly interpretations of Plato which are outside the scope of this enquiry).
The second mark of difference between different deities hinges upon the question of whether there is a fundamental flaw with reality, or not. The model set forth by Christian theology is that humankind has broken its former close connection with the creator God in favor of their own self-importance, harmful desires for temporary gratification, and rebellion against truth. The reason belief in God is a significant idea for the Christian can be summarized by the words of St. Paul in I Corinthians 15:17, “And if Christ is not risen, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins!” The Christian concept of sin is “that which separates humankind from God.” Because God is perfect, he cannot be associated with that which is imperfect and retain his perfection. Because He still loved His creation, though, as any creator would, He sent His son Jesus Christ to be punished for our sins on the cross. In this way the fundamental reality which was broken is now fixed, and everything about God becomes the redemption for everything about man. I find this worldview superior to naturalistic worldviews in which the guiding principle is in a steady state of improving nature, or even dualistic worldviews in which it is assumed that the existence of The One and the Demiurge means that nature is only as it is meant to be, no more and no less. It is not superior because it is somehow better to be broken and fixed than never to have been broken at all, or because there is some virtue in reconciliation that is superior to eternal togetherness. These ideas are bizarre, theological complexities which are completely unfounded and have no place in a model of reality. The reason that viewing our world as diseased and our deity as its cure is superior is simple: it is superior because it is true.
This being the case, one question stands at the forefront of such a philosophy. How shall we then live? Viewing oneself as broken and in need of healing is a difficult step to take because, once discovered, it demands an overhaul of one’s thought process and way of life. This is another major difference between Dawkins’ god and the Christian God. Plato, on the other hand, lies somewhere in between (how Aristotelian of him!). Dawkins’ God, natural selection, demands nothing more than that we act exactly as we want to. Do what comes “naturally,” says this priest of “science-based” ethics, and you will be doing service to the process of natural selection. There is nothing difficult about it, no commitment is really necessary. All he asks is that harmful impulses, like faith and selflessness, be eliminated from social cooperation. These requirements are another easy way to delineate between one type of god and another. Plato’s deity, on the other hand, seems to imply that introspection and the philosophical life, understanding the concepts that lie behind the works of the Demiurge through the will of The One, will bring happiness and actions which align with the good, the just, and the beautiful. What is lacking in Plato’s philosophy, and rectified by Christianity, is the personal aspect from point one. It was meaningless in Greek culture for Socrates to suggest that the goodness, justice, and beauty of the Demiurge be sought and emulated without some sort of example and mediator between the people and the Demiurge, especially in light of the fact that their fundamental myths contained such mediators (Hercules, Prometheus), and even made the Olympians hyper-personal gods that reflected humans in every way (and sometimes banged ‘em). One real value of Christianity over Platonism is the existence of Jesus Christ and the doctrine of his dual nature, which was able to bridge the gap and heal humanity from its aforementioned separation from its Creator. Once this personal aspect of Christianity, the man Christ, is established, the question “How shall we then live?” is answered entirely by His life as seen in God’s Word, as well as the ethical standards of the Christian tradition, the foundation of which is also the scripture. Christianity is demanding, to be sure, but those who use this as a reason to disbelieve it are simply deceiving themselves. They are in need, and no amount of head-shaking, eye-closing, or arm-pinching will redeem them like the personal mediator, the God-man, Jesus Christ can.
The ultimate point of saying any of the above is to emphasize that theism is not enough. In the end, anyone who believes that there is order and not chaos, and that there is a reason for that, is a theist. With a little extension of definition and leniency on pre-established worldview taboos, even Richard Dawkins himself can be referred to in such a way. It is clear, though, that this is not enough. There is superiority to be found in personability, redemption, and positive change demanded by a deity- deities who say nothing, change nothing, and demand nothing have no real value beyond the explanatory. Mathematics can certainly provide a framework for understanding the world, and genetic science is a tribute to scholarly reason, but neither directly points to the fallen state of man, and certainly the axioms of neither are sufficient to provide the guidance of a deity as Dawkins seems to claim. Similarly, any theism which does not contain the three elements that make Christianity a remarkably different brand of theism are untrue, impotent, and valueless.

My little sister is a writer/poet and she is currently writing poetry for hire. Only 25 cents a line! I hired her to write a poem for our philosophical blog and here’s what came out:

Tis the Thought of the Matter

Tis the thought of the matter that counts
Not the thing in itself, but the piece of deduction
Which sits gathering dust on the shelf

Tis the thought of the matter you see
Where every detail, and every component
Are what make the marks on the scale

Tis the thought of the matter and so
Since we all truly be, a one of a kind
Tis the thought that makes you and me

Descartes would like it, I think. Also, check out “The Timeless World.” Anyway, if you need a poem, and no one else can help, maybe you can hire… Noelle.