Faith, Atonement, and the Centrality of Jesus

I'm still dialoging with Harlan Quinn over at QuIRP on the idea of the atonement, and it looks like I will be contributing some ideas to a document that he hopes to create mapping out logically the concept of the atonement. The dialog has been stimulating, charitable, and good natured so far and I look forward to continuing it. It is making me think and reflect on ideas of law, justice, and sin as they relate to Christianity and the significance of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

I have been reading Jan-Olav Henriksen's book The Reconstruction of Religion: Lessing, Kierkegaard, and Nietzsche, and some of his thoughts on Kierkegaard have resonated with me as I have been thinking about the idea of atonement. Kierkegaard, though not without his flaws, is one of my favorite thinkers and writers and along with Nietzsche was the main reason I was drawn to this book. Henriksen emphasizes the centrality of subjectivity to Kierkegaard's thoughts on religion. Subjectivity, in the sense that religion is something that involves a person as a subject and focuses on God as another subject, helps point towards the personal nature of God and God's interaction with humans. What this means for Kierkegaard is that we make a mistake when we look to things like doctrine as being the heart of Christianity instead of the person of Jesus Christ and our own encounter with Him.

To quote from Henriksen, "Faith is first and foremost a relation to the communication of the mode of existence provided by the Teacher, a communication that cannot be separated from the Teacher himself . . . The statement that Christianity is not a doctrine but a communication or mediation of a mode of existence should not be taken as a direct negation of the doctrinal content in Christianity. It does have such a content, but this content is mainly related to personal and individual existence, not to what can be spelled out in paragraphs resulting from mere speculative thought" (114).

What we find in the words of the New Testament is a testimony to the person of Jesus and the accounts of the spiritual experiences and reflections of those who were his contemporaries and near contemporaries to the events of his life. However, we are making a mistake if we see these gospels and epistles as being primarily sources of doctrine instead of testimonies to the encounters with Jesus, both physically and spiritually, of the earliest believers. The New Testament as the "word of God" testifies to the pre-incarnate Word. As a Christian, Jesus was and must always be for me the Word of God, and while the words of the Bible are to be treasured and studied diligently, the two should not be confused.

Kierkegaard's work helps point to the need for following Jesus to be a subject-subject relationship, not a subject-object one, which is extremely easy to fall into. I know I frequently lose sight of the stunning picture of reality that we find in John's prologue: the Word, the logos, is personal. This means that Christianity makes a radical claim here, the claim that ultimate reality at its heart is personal. Thinking about God and faith isn't a matter of trying to investigate a set of circumstances or look for empirical data, because if we are dealing with something that is personal than we learn through conversation. We ask and are asked in return, and information can be willingly given or deliberately withheld, but cannot be attained without the consent of the other.

All this may sound somewhat abstract, but the point that I want to make when thinking about the atonement is that from a Christian perspective, if we are looking to apply logical principles and historical investigation to prove or disprove anything about the consequences of the life of Jesus, then we are in danger of missing a great deal of the story if we in fact really are dealing with a personal source of all reality. My intent is not to denigrate reason, philosophy, or history (all of which are passions of mine), but rather to make sure that we are not pushing them beyond their limits. We can know the past only indirectly and there will always be room for doubt and uncertainty, but there is no reason that this needs to leave us in a permanent state of agnosticism about God and Jesus Christ.

These are just some rough reflections that I have had, and I don't claim that this is the final or best word on the subject. I just want to raise the question of how, based on the testimony of Jesus and the scriptures, we might expect to most fruitfully go about reflecting on the idea of the atonement, and what I want to suggest is that it can never be separated from Jesus Christ and simply dealt with as a matter of doctrine. Once we start moving away from Jesus in these reflections, we are entering a realm of theology and philosophy that while certainly religious does not deserve to be called Christian.

Too often we as Christians forget our own namesake and slip into talk about an abstract entity called "God" that is defined anthropomorphically and said to have to meet certain standards of excellence or perfection. The only problem is that this vision of "god" has very little to do with the God we find in the Bible and even less to do with Jesus. If we make the mistake of viewing God as an object instead of a subject then all of our reflections on him and on doctrine will only be directed towards an idol. The atonement, like any other doctrine of Christian faith, only has value as a means of pointing beyond itself to Jesus Christ himself, and if we lose sight of this then I fear that we are merely engaging in one giant exercise in missing the point.

The Atonement

I am participating in some interesting dialog about the Atonement over at QuIRP. Rather than trying to retype everything I have said and formulate it into a single post for Reflective Faith, I thought I would just link to the page. My thoughts are as always developing and being refined, and I appreciate the chance to interact with a few others and hear their ideas on the concept of the atonement. The idea that Jesus' death and resurrection has something to do with forgiveness and sins and reconciliation to God is central to Christianity, but is also difficult to articulate and has led to inadequate explanations like the penal-substitution view.

Christian history is in my view a story in many ways of trying to make sense of just what Jesus did through his death and resurrection and who he was. We shouldn't be surprised if our thoughts are refined or if the ideas of earlier Christians are somewhat different. We are all in the process of trying to make sense of this dramatic and utterly transformative event that seems to defy perfect articulation. The power of Jesus' death and resurrection is not able to be limited to just any one view or perspective, though all of the different perspectives provide new and often fruitful ways of teasing more and more of the far-reaching implications and consequences of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. I hope the dialoging continues to be fruitful and I look forward to seeing it unfold.

The Real Jesus and the Jesus of History

James McGrath has a nice post over on his blog about following the historical Jesus, and how it mirrors the situation that the first disciples and followers of Jesus faced. It's a good reminder once again that certainty is not something that Jesus ever promised anyone. After all, the religious leaders of his day apparently largely rejected him, and I would argue, they probably had good reasons in doing so. Not following Jesus was not absurd or illogical, then or now. As McGrath puts it

"Whereas many Christians envisage Jesus as one who is either literally or metaphorically 'irresistable,' clearly it was possible for not only opponents but even adherents to find the realities of who Jesus was challenging and at times unsettling. He was a figure about whom it was genuinely possible to have doubts."

This reminds of what Kierkegaard has to say about following Jesus in Training in Christianity. There, he argues that we must become contemporaneous with Christ if we want to follow him, and that involves recognizing that following Jesus in his own time was full of uncertainty and risk. It is not something that we can just complacently embrace on the basis of the subsequent course of Christian history, it involves to whatever extent it is possible, an unmediated encounter with Jesus. This is just as unsettling now as it has ever been. It involves trust and commitment over matters that can be doubted, and the only certainty that can be offered is certainty in God, a certainty that is personal and not propositional. And honestly, sometimes that just seems terrifying. It leaves me questioning, scared if I have committed myself to something that isn't true.

Doubt is absolutely essential to faith, and to life, but it is also deeply uncomfortable. If it weren't for doubt, I am sure I would have lost my faith by now. It isn't something terrible or the "atheist's secret weapon" or whatever else it is made out to be. A God who isn't open to intense questioning isn't worth following. The thing that gets forgotten, in my opinion, is that we are just as open to being questioned by God. It isn't a one way exchange, of us standing here and demanding that God reveal himself. Either way the questioning goes, it probably won't be comfortable, which is why Jesus Christ will always remain a stumbling block for many.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas!

Just taking the time to celebrate the mystery of the Incarnation. 2000 years later, we are still trying to wrap our minds around the wonderful truth that the writer of John recorded: the word became flesh and dwelt among us. So much can be said about this awesome revelation clothed in total humility, this divine emptying and all that Jesus Christ is and means, but for now I think it is best to simply reflect quietly. I'll have more to post later on of a more philosophical nature, but I wanted to provide a reminder, to myself and others, of the power of quieting yourself before God and reflecting on who he is.

Cheers and a Happy New Year!

God is Great, God is Good

Today I just finished reading God is Great, God is Good: Why Believing in God is Reasonable and Responsible, edited by William Lane Craig and Chad Meister. This book is a collection of essays by Christian academics in a variety of disciplines responding to the claims and writings of the so-called New Atheists. 14 different essays, each by a different Christian thinker on a variety of topics, constitutes the text of the book. I was interested in reading this book, particularly because I greatly respect the work of a number of the contributors to this volume. With chapters from Alister McGrath, Gary Habermas, William Lane Craig, John Polkinghore, Michael Murray, J.P. Moreland, Paul Moser, Paul Copan and others, the list of contributors contains many prominent names in philosophy, science, and religion. (Note: the following paragraphs I also posted, with a few small changes, as a review of the book on Amazon).

The essays that I enjoyed most from this book were the ones by Moser, Polkinghorne, McGrath, and Copan. Paul Moser's article makes the important point that the moral dimension of God has important bearing on what we should expect to find as evidence for God's existence. By looking for the "God of the Philosophers" as a first cause, unmoved mover, etc., Moser argues that we have acted as if the question of God being good, amoral, or malevolent has no bearing on whether or not God exists. He makes an interesting case for highlighting the moral nature of God, particularly the belief that God is love, should be central to the question of God's existence. Polkinghorne's chapter, entitled "God and Physics," shows how a Christian viewpoint not only accommodates but illuminates the understanding of physics that has developed in the twentieth and early twenty-first century. Alister McGrath does an excellent job of taking to task the view that religion is inherently violent, pointing out that the all of the dangers that are identified in religion are inherent to political movements. The use of religion to motivate violence points to features of human nature and not of religion. Thus, atheism, religion, politics, or any system or ideology is vulnerable to being co-opted for violent purposes, a point that is often lost or ignored by Christians and atheists alike. Paul Copan offers a thoughtful analysis of Old Testament law and ethics (which is far more nuanced than the response of Hector Avalos would lead one to believe, and Copan specifically responds to Avalos in a number of footnotes). Copan's essay, particularly what it is and is not saying, deserves some sustained reflection, which I may do at some point.

There were a few essays that I found to be somewhat lacking, either in quality of argument or in organization. While Craig is a clear writer, no matter how many times he formulates the ontological argument I still think it looks like witchcraft. Some people think its a powerful argument, but I think it is riddled with (probably insurmountable) problems. The same goes for Michael Behe's essay. I am not terribly impressed with the whole Intelligent Design movement, and Discovery Institute protestations aside, I still think its an example of a god-of-the-gaps defense. I do give Behe credit for helping me to better understand the project of ID, which is usually mischaracterized. For Behe at least, the question is not whether evolution is an adequate explanation, but whether the most widely supported mechanisms for evolution are able to account for the biological and genetic diversity we see. I'm not so sure that this distinction helps his project any more, but it at least shows that it does not reject things like fossil and DNA evidence for evolution. I was also disappointed with Michael Murray's essay on evolutionary explanations for religion. Murray had a number of excellent points, but the essay was poorly organized and frequently involved raising a number of points and then declaring that he did not have the space to address them here (of course followed by a footnote pointing to other works of his). I am interested in reading more of Murray's work, particularly The Believing Primate, but this particular essay was poorly executed.

The choice to give the last chapter to Mark Mittelberg also didn't sit so well with me. I was not familiar with Mittelberg so I had to look him up. Apparently he is a popular speaker and writer, but as far as I can tell isn't an academic by training. His chapter was essentially an altar call to the end the book, which is all good and well, but its lack of philosophical sophistication by comparison to the rest of the essays in the book was noticeable (references to non-scholars like Josh McDowell and Lee Strobel seem out of place by comparison to the sources referenced by the other contributors). It was frustrating to see the lack of theological precision in the article. For example, Mittelberg seems to presuppose some form of penal-substitution view of the atonement, which many of the New Atheists have (in my opinion rightly) attacked. In fact, the book would have benefited with a chapter specifically devoted to just that subject. Mittelberg doesn't explicitly defend such a position, but the language he uses seems to imply it. Again, not a terrible chapter, but in comparison with the other essays it was ending the book on a low note.

Overall, I give high marks to this book. While I do not agree with all of the points and perspectives raised, I was able to find much of value that helps clarify and deepen my understanding and thoughts on a number of topics. In fact, many of the authors in this book would disagree strongly with each other (I think specifically of Polkinghorne and Behe). This is a strength of the book, in my opinion, because it shows the diversity of opinions that make up the body of Christ. There is no one uniform Christian opinion on these issues, and it is heartening to see thoughtful and intelligent Christians of different backgrounds and perspectives come together to show the unity in diversity that Christianity represents. While the book is aimed at a broad audience so many of the essays reflect the strains of their author's attempt to cram a lifetime of thought and work into 15 pages (though this may not be as obvious to readers who have not read any of the other works by the contributors), there is still a good deal of philosophical and theological meat. It is a good starting point for those who may not have much of a background with Christian philosophy or the New Atheism and provides much fodder for reflection and discussion.

The Myth of Objectivity

The recent controversy surrounding the leaked emails from scientists involved in researching global warming is a nice reminder of the ineluctably subjective nature of the pursuit of knowledge. I am not in any way trying to deny global warming. Indeed, as this article shows, it does not appear that any global warming data was fabricated. What it does show is that the process of scientific investigation, and all pursuits of knowledge, reflect deeply subjective elements.

This point is captured nicely in the article linked to above: "This is normal science politics, but on the extreme end, though still within bounds," said Dan Sarewitz, a science policy professor at Arizona State University. "We talk about science as this pure ideal and the scientific method as if it is something out of a cookbook, but research is a social and human activity full of all the failings of society and humans, and this reality gets totally magnified by the high political stakes here." What is taking place within the scientific community is by no means unusual or unethical, it just isn't "objective."

There is often times this claim by those seeking to use science as an ax against religious knowledge that scientific knowledge is somehow objective while religious knowledge is not (admittedly this is usually not asserted by actual scientists, just popularizers who apparently have a much weaker grasp of the scientific enterprise). However, to make such a claim is to ignore the many subjective facets that mark science. This in no way weakens the power of science, it merely shows what the pursuit of knowledge looks like. This is why subjective experiences should not be looked down upon a priori.

Religious experiences need not be seen as subjective to the point that they have nothing to offer anyone beyond the person who experiences it. As the work of Michael Polanyi has helped demonstrate, there is not a rigid subjective/objective dichotomy that can be affirmed (I am indebted to Lesslie Newbigin's excellent short book Proper Confidence for many of these insights). Thus, all knowledge claims reflect subjective experiences, but these subjective experiences can be made with universal intent. This is what takes place in the sciences. Every experiment is marked by countless subjective decisions, reflecting the individual researcher's inclinations, intuitions, hunches, biases, circumstances, previous experiences, etc., but the results are made with universal intent.

I am saying that the same thing might be said of religious knowledge. I'm not going to try to push this to make an unwarranted claim (like that the scientific method is identical with religious experiences), I am only showing that any claim to knowledge, be it scientific or religious in nature, is put forth along a path of deep subjectivity. Objectivity is a chimera that neglects the ways in which we actually undertake the act of knowing. It is not something that can be set rigidly apart and in opposition to subjectivity. The two are interconnected and related in a way that one cannot be separated from the other. This doesn't make the case for religious knowledge, but that is not my point. My point is merely to point to a mistaken approach that often takes place in faith/science debates on a popular level.

An Excellent Conversation Between Richard Dawkins and Alister McGrath

This is a great interview of Alister McGrath by Richard Dawkins. Both of them do an excellent job of articulating their positions, and the civility, charity, and respect that the two show to each other is a model of how all conversations between atheists and Christians should proceed. This is a much more effective way to flesh out these important issues than in a debate where the emphasis is on "winning" and "losing." It is very instructive also to see the way that each of these men is influenced by the presuppositions he brings to the world. The result is that while each does his best to understand the other, they end up talking past each other at a number of points.

Dawkins, for example, can't get beyond the idea that God must be an extraordinarily complex being. He candidly admits that his training as a biologist has shaped his view. The incredible explanatory power of evolutionary biology has conditioned him to see complex entities emerging from more simple ones. The idea of a complex entity at the beginning of all things, rather than the end, strikes Dawkins as completely improbably. This is because it runs counter to the way he has been trained and the way he has come to view the world, so anything that seems to deviate from that seems to be almost nonsensical. McGrath does not seem to be bothered by this claim in nearly the way that Dawkins is. As a Christian, I admit that it is hard for me to feel the force that Dawkins would like from his point, because such a claim does not strike me as so deeply troubling. The same goes for McGrath, who can't get beyond the person of Jesus and what this means for the rest of the world, while Dawkins is not nearly so impressed with what for McGrath (and myself) is something that is absolutely crucial to his Christian belief and his belief in God at all.

What McGrath points to, and what I find myself in agreement with, is that the truth of Christianity is in its power to explain the universe and human existence, and that most of its doctrinal presuppositions cannot be proven. This is something that Dawkins finds to be almost absurd, because it has no direct bearing on whether any of the doctrines of Christianity are true. Just because Christianity gives what for me is a satisfying explanation of my existence, how on earth am I justified in inferring that God is three persons, that Jesus was resurrected from the dead, etc., etc., etc.? The answer is simply that I am not. Dawkins is entirely correct to press this point home. However, what I want to say, is that this is not just a "problem" for Christianity.

No explanatory system is self-justifying. This is one of the powerful implications of Godel's incompleteness theorem: an explanatory system must have unproven true assumptions. The empirical methodology of the scientific method cannot be justified empirically, even though it postulates empirical investigation as the proper avenue to knowledge. So why do so many people hold it to be true? Because it is so successful at doing what it predicts it will do. It is set up as a means of pursuing discoveries in the world, and it has been successful. Surely, this should lend support or justification to the scientific method. What McGrath is arguing towards, is that Christianity can/will be shown true by its ability or inability to explain the world and human existence in the way that it claims to do.

The problem with two people operating in different explanatory systems is that it is very difficult to completely understand the claims of the others. I'm sure that most Christians will believe that McGrath has been quite eloquent and convincing. Just as I'm sure that most atheists will believe that Dawkins has driven home intractable flaws in Christianity (you can get a bit of atheistic reaction to this conversation here). These conversations are important, and the issues raised by both men are worthy of much reflection.