Two recent and unrelated event collaborated to remind me of the nature of Modernism as compared to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
First, the recent death of my advisor by suicide (I have not yet decided whether I want to publicly share my thoughts on that subject) has prompted me to investigate memories and thoughts of his, which are no longer available to me through direct contact with him. In doing so I ran across an address of his on modernism, in which he defended (with a bit of unease and qualification) the modernist idea of the autonomous liberal subject.
Second, I spent this morning watching portions of Paul Tripp's video series on Christian parenting; creating a culture of grace. One of the many important points he stressed in parenting children ages 0-5 was the responsibility of parents to impress upon their children daily the reality that, 1) they do not have the right to determine things for themselves and 2) they are not sufficient in themselves for the things they need. In other words, children must be instructed and trained to acknowledge God's authority of all things.
If there is anything more destructive to the modern Church than buying into the modernist idea of the autonomous liberal subject, I am hard pressed to discern what it would be. The notion that I, as an autonomous individual, hold within myself all of the rights and requirements necessary for the complete realization of myself and the society in which I choose to live is the precise opposite of what the Gospel of Jesus Christ claims, which is that it is only by living according to God's appointed rights and requirements--by bowing the knee to His power and petitioning His favor for our needs--is where all that is necessary for the complete realization of myself and the society in which God is fashioning His kingdom is found.
Modernism is the present-day incarnation of Babel, and post-modernism is the present-day equivalent of God's response to Babel--the confusion of our common understanding, the result of which is to scatter us and thwart the power and effectiveness of our self-destructive actions. While post-modernism is by no means an entirely healthy response to modernism, the Church should be thankful for the fact that postmodernism has successfully undermined (at least to whatever extent it has actually done so) the idolatrous and self-destructive system of modernism.
What remains for the Church is to acknowledge its own complicity in the idolatry of modernism assumptions about the nature and purpose of man and to exhibit the Gospel-drive culture as a light to the western world, which languishes in the malaise of postmodern society that its people so desperately longs to escape from. Where confusion and darkness reign, there the light is most persuasive, most coveted, most desirable to those with eyes to see and ears to hear. Christians who "get it" have a hard task, since most of us to some extent have enjoyed the spoiled fruits of a false system. Radical amputation is certainly a good prescription, along with a robust regimen of grace-driven standards and practices.
May the Lord open our eyes to the great opportunity before us!
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Self-serving vs. Selfish
I've been in an ongoing discussion with some of my students and a colleague about the difference between self-service and selfishness. The Bible is full of appeals to rewards that an individual would desire, and its authors simply assume that there is no contradiction between doing something for another that is also benefiting oneself in the short or long term.
Post-Kantian ethics introduces an alternative premise that ruins this assumption. Kant basically argued that virtue is the fulfillment of a duty apart from any consideration for what one may gain from its fulfillment. We ought not to obey a law because we will be rewarded. We ought to obey a law simply because it is right to do so--it is the most rational choice.
But even Jesus endured the cross, "for the joy that was set before him," and the eternal covenant between the Father and the Son was an agreement that rewarded the Son (with the Father and the Spirit) with glory upon the conditions of the covenant. If God Himself is righteous in seeking His own good through the lavishing of good upon others, why should we, as God's image-bearers, consider ourselves bound to a "higher" standard? Really, Kant's standard isn't higher, but rather inhuman. God created men with wills and affections that cooperate with his rational mind to engage in appropriate worship of the Triune God. A Christian should not simply obey out of a sense of duty to the rationally correct choice (although that would be better than disobedience and dereliction of duty!). Rather, the Christian is motivated out of a sense of thanksgiving for what God has given to him, and out of a desire to please God. It is also the case that the Christian obeys from a hope that his obedience will be rewarded by the Father.
The idea of working for a reward smacks of "works righteousness" to the ear of many Christians. Since we cannot "earn our salvation," it is foolish to think of works as a kind of reward, so the sentiment goes. But there is a misconception in the nature of works under this view. Works are something that follow upon salvation, not something that precedes it. A salvation that did not include the fruit of good works would be a salvation that does not save. For what else is the Christian saved into but obedience and wholehearted effort to do that which is right before God and men? No one rescues a plant from withering without expecting it to produce fruit. I didn't adopt my two oldest boys in order for them to languish in idleness. Nor does our Heavenly Father deliver us from death that we might remain stagnant or frozen in our affections or will to do. Rather, God has prepared for us works beforehand, that we may walk in them. Paul refers to the Philippians as his crown. There is a real sense in which the good works we do are really only a benefit to ourselves in a secondary way, because a real work of good never benefits a single, isolated individual. Even if one of the works I do is to cultivate my soul through spiritual discipline, it must of necessity please God to be more like Him, and it must of necessity spill out into the relationships God has put me in. Are not more loving relationships a type of reward? Is not the pleasure of our Heavenly Father a reward? Can we say that our progress in sanctification is not a reward? Is any Christian capable of maintaining that such rewards ought not to be pursued, desired, or otherwise worked out in fear and trembling?
It would take a fairly complex argument to do so, I should think. I'm still waiting to hear one from any of my students, in any case.
Post-Kantian ethics introduces an alternative premise that ruins this assumption. Kant basically argued that virtue is the fulfillment of a duty apart from any consideration for what one may gain from its fulfillment. We ought not to obey a law because we will be rewarded. We ought to obey a law simply because it is right to do so--it is the most rational choice.
But even Jesus endured the cross, "for the joy that was set before him," and the eternal covenant between the Father and the Son was an agreement that rewarded the Son (with the Father and the Spirit) with glory upon the conditions of the covenant. If God Himself is righteous in seeking His own good through the lavishing of good upon others, why should we, as God's image-bearers, consider ourselves bound to a "higher" standard? Really, Kant's standard isn't higher, but rather inhuman. God created men with wills and affections that cooperate with his rational mind to engage in appropriate worship of the Triune God. A Christian should not simply obey out of a sense of duty to the rationally correct choice (although that would be better than disobedience and dereliction of duty!). Rather, the Christian is motivated out of a sense of thanksgiving for what God has given to him, and out of a desire to please God. It is also the case that the Christian obeys from a hope that his obedience will be rewarded by the Father.
The idea of working for a reward smacks of "works righteousness" to the ear of many Christians. Since we cannot "earn our salvation," it is foolish to think of works as a kind of reward, so the sentiment goes. But there is a misconception in the nature of works under this view. Works are something that follow upon salvation, not something that precedes it. A salvation that did not include the fruit of good works would be a salvation that does not save. For what else is the Christian saved into but obedience and wholehearted effort to do that which is right before God and men? No one rescues a plant from withering without expecting it to produce fruit. I didn't adopt my two oldest boys in order for them to languish in idleness. Nor does our Heavenly Father deliver us from death that we might remain stagnant or frozen in our affections or will to do. Rather, God has prepared for us works beforehand, that we may walk in them. Paul refers to the Philippians as his crown. There is a real sense in which the good works we do are really only a benefit to ourselves in a secondary way, because a real work of good never benefits a single, isolated individual. Even if one of the works I do is to cultivate my soul through spiritual discipline, it must of necessity please God to be more like Him, and it must of necessity spill out into the relationships God has put me in. Are not more loving relationships a type of reward? Is not the pleasure of our Heavenly Father a reward? Can we say that our progress in sanctification is not a reward? Is any Christian capable of maintaining that such rewards ought not to be pursued, desired, or otherwise worked out in fear and trembling?
It would take a fairly complex argument to do so, I should think. I'm still waiting to hear one from any of my students, in any case.
Book Log - August & September 2012
Books Bought:
51. Education in Ancient Rome - Stanley F. Bonner. I bought this one to read (eventually) for background on some of the exercises I use for my rhetoric classes.
52. Missionary Methods: St. Paul's or Ourms? - Roland Allen. I bought this upon recommendation of a pastor friend of mine. I'm currently reading it and finding it very eye-opening and thought-provoking.
53. Koheleth: The Man and His World - Robert Gordis. I cannot remember who recommended this book to me, but it looks to be a promising resource on Ecclesiastes.
Books Read:
37. Reforming Marriage - Douglas Wilson. I remember my pastors in Texas referring to this book as the one that says, "it's the husband's fault." They were jesting, of course, but Wilson's take on marriage is very "federal." I appreciate that, although many find it offensive for this or that reason.
38. The Silver Chair - C. S. Lewis. I read this book to the boys in early August before school. They have been listening to the dramatized versions of the Chronicles of Narnia all summer, so I thought they'd be willing to sit through the book. They did lose a bit of steam, but enjoyed it for the most part.
39. On Secular Education - R. L. Dabney. I read this in preparation for a board meeting that is upcoming. It is a very prescient treatment of the issues of State-run education, and of the necessity for Christian education.
40. Cassiodorus: Institutions of Divine and Secular Learning and On the Soul - Halporn and Vessey. I read this book to get some background on classical education. It was helpful, although I really only skimmed it, rather than reading it closely.
41. The Word of God and the Mind of Man - Ronald Nash. This is a book I've had for awhile that I nabbed when one of my pastors was liquidating some of his library. It is a decent book for what it covers, but it isn't as profound as Gordon Clark (Nash's mentor). The ideas are helpful though, and probably more palatable to some than Clark's works.
42. Wordsmithy - Douglas Wilson. I read this upon the recommendation of one of my former students. It was a quick and enjoyable treatment, with lots of helpful advice. I don't always appreciate Wilson's persistent attempts to be pithy, but it works very well for this sort of book.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Witherspoon's Calvinism as causal leverage for a robust view of rhetoric
Jeffry Morrison in his book, John Witherspoon and the Founding of the American Republic, gives the following evaluation of Witherspoon's view of Church and State:
How is it that Witherspoon could, as a Calvinist of impeachable Reformed orthodox credentials, advocate for the support of public religion without advocating for establishment? How could such general affirmation be strong enough, explicit enough to ensure that the Christian religion flourish in the way that Witherspoon sought for it to flourish? There is a clue to his confidence in one of his Thanksgiving addresses:
It would seem that Witherspoon places the chief burden of securing Christian society, not upon the explicit formulation of laws, but upon the cultivation of Christianity's own citizens by the sound shepherding of her clergy. Establishment by law is of no import should the minds and desires of the people drift away from religious beliefs and practices. Establishment laws may not positively motivate so much as they would constrain certain negative motives popularly acknowledged. Yet should the tide of belief change, the laws (within a republican form of government) would soon follow, or become a dead letter.
Morrison appears to concur, saying, "True religion was to act as a sort of leaven, working its healthy influence throughout the political body without benefit of formal establishment but with equal aid and protection from the state" (36).
Liberty of conscience is the key principle behind Witherspoon's claims, both in ecclesiastical and political realms. If Calvinists would not stand for a Pope or a Patriarch to command their consciences before Almighty God in matters of religion, how could they consistently command such from others where the power of the majority and control of the State was theirs? Within this Calvinist conception of the liberty of conscience lay the seedbed for a robust appreciation for the potentiality, nay the necessity of persuasion, and hence, the necessities of a well-developed theory and practice of rhetoric.
But for all of his recommendations that magistrates "use their authority for the glory of God" and "reform and restrain impiety," Witherspoon was no theocrat. Nor does his talk of making "public provision for the worship of God" prove that he advocated "active state support of Protestant Christianity," as one commentatory has claimed, let alone any sort of establishment, as others have claimed. To begin with the obvious, Witherspoon did not stipulate "Protestant Christianity,"only public worship that was agreeable to the "great body of the people." Presumably this could have meant the Roman Catholicism in the case of Maryland, a historically Catholic colony, or other traditions at more local levels such as counties or townships. Furthermore, "public provision for the worship of God" could admit of any number of government actions, all short of promoting Protestantism or any sectarian version of Christianity whatever. (34)
How is it that Witherspoon could, as a Calvinist of impeachable Reformed orthodox credentials, advocate for the support of public religion without advocating for establishment? How could such general affirmation be strong enough, explicit enough to ensure that the Christian religion flourish in the way that Witherspoon sought for it to flourish? There is a clue to his confidence in one of his Thanksgiving addresses:
Good laws may hold the rotten bark some longer together, but in a little time all laws must give way to the tide of popular opinion, and be laid prostrate under universal practice. Hence it clearly follows, that the teachers and rulers of every religious denomination are bound mutually to each other, and to the whole society, to watch over the manners of their several members. (23)
It would seem that Witherspoon places the chief burden of securing Christian society, not upon the explicit formulation of laws, but upon the cultivation of Christianity's own citizens by the sound shepherding of her clergy. Establishment by law is of no import should the minds and desires of the people drift away from religious beliefs and practices. Establishment laws may not positively motivate so much as they would constrain certain negative motives popularly acknowledged. Yet should the tide of belief change, the laws (within a republican form of government) would soon follow, or become a dead letter.
Morrison appears to concur, saying, "True religion was to act as a sort of leaven, working its healthy influence throughout the political body without benefit of formal establishment but with equal aid and protection from the state" (36).
Liberty of conscience is the key principle behind Witherspoon's claims, both in ecclesiastical and political realms. If Calvinists would not stand for a Pope or a Patriarch to command their consciences before Almighty God in matters of religion, how could they consistently command such from others where the power of the majority and control of the State was theirs? Within this Calvinist conception of the liberty of conscience lay the seedbed for a robust appreciation for the potentiality, nay the necessity of persuasion, and hence, the necessities of a well-developed theory and practice of rhetoric.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Sciences are humanities, too.
But the popular image of science is often different from the way it really works. Consciously or unconsciously, scientists are propagandists. To the outside world, they present science as a series of great discoveries, as smooth upwards progress towards truth. But inside science, fierce debates and controversies rage constantly. The public is shielded from these in several ways. First, scientific language is often technical and difficult for the non-scientists to penetrate. Secondly, science textbooks used everywhere from elementary school to university tend to conceal disagreement. This helps students by simplifying material, but it also serves to reinforce the image of science as "objective truth" above all questioning, and thereby reinforces the enormous social and political authority of science.
Disagreement about the interpretation of scientific theories is normal. No major theory of science is free of debate about its truth, meaning and implications.
J.B. Kennedy, Space, Time and Einstein, p. 20.
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