Apologia Fall 2015

From Gut Feelings to Natural Law

featuring

also inside

Does Christianity Pose a Challenge to Intellectual Inquiry?

Rethinking Human Rights

Interpreting Inspiration: Linking God, Mankind, and the Written Word

Fall 2015, Volume 10, Issue 1

Front cover image by Natalie Shell ’15

Fall 2015, Volume 10, Issue 1Editor-in-Chief

Jake Casale ‘17

Managing EditorJoshua Tseng-Tham ‘17

Editorial BoardChris D’Angelo ’16Macy Ferguson ‘16

Mene Ukueberuwa ‘16Danielle D’Souza ‘17

Sara Holston ’17Marissa Le Coz ‘17

Jessica Tong ‘17Matthew West ’17

Madeline Killen ‘18Stephanie Liu ‘18

Business ManagerAndrew Shuffer ’18

Production ManagerChenchen Li ‘18

Production StaffMacy Ferguson ‘16

Joshua Wan ‘16Aimee Sung ‘17

Matthew West ‘17Jessica Sun ‘18

PhotographyNatalie Shell ’15

ContributorsAndrew Zulker ‘15

Josh Alexakos ‘17Emmanuel Hui ’17

Trevor Davis ’18Christopher Kymn ’18

Advisory BoardGregg Fairbrothers

Eric Hansen, ThayerJames Murphy, Government

Lindsay Whaley, ClassicsLeo Zacharski, DMS

Special thanks toCouncil on Student Organizations

The Eleazar Wheelock Society

Humanity has wrestled for centuries with the notion of identity—what it is, how it is constructed, and how it impacts all areas of a person’s life. This question is especially apparent in the discourse of modern society; it is discussed in a multiplicity of forums, public and private, and consensus is difficult to achieve because components of identity are variable between individuals. Yet there is agreement that all people share a common humanity, which raises the question: what does it mean to be human?

American film director Alan Rudolph claims that “human identity is the most fragile thing we have, and it’s often only found in moments of truth.” Yet this may not be much help to the modern man, for the dominant metanarrative of our era—that truth is relative to the individual—makes it challenging to locate objective reality. This is woven into daily experience as a perpetual sense of standing on shaky ground, of inadequately attempting to cohere the vast array of information revealed by the senses into a coherent framework. At the center of these attempts lies the elusive conundrum: who am I? This is where the mystery of humanity becomes intensely personal, where the seeming absence of an objective answer produces the sharpest sting. Yet you will be hard-pressed to find an individual in our world (indeed, throughout all of human history) who is unconcerned about identity. Everyone, regardless of the path taken, is on a journey to answer deep questions of who they are and what their purpose is.

At the Apologia, we believe that the answer to this question is of great significance, for it profoundly shapes an individual’s worldview and the intentional actions that flow from that worldview. It is the bedrock on which a meaningful life is built. If such a life is worth crafting, then it stands to reason that one should have confidence in the suitability of the foundation to produce a structure that will not only weather forthcoming assaults, but will also thrive according to its design. Similarly, it follows that the sturdiest foundation would accord with the actual nature of reality. In other words, it reflects truth.

We believe that Christianity is this truth—that it reveals the existence and nature of God, identifies the goodness of His original creation that has been ravaged by the entrance of sin, and locates humanity as the recipient of an unmerited, yet freely given, gift of salvation through the work of Jesus Christ. In the midst of our brokenness, these truths have burrowed deeply within our hearts, promising the redemptive unification of our fractured selves around our fundamental identity as children of God. Moreover, we strive to articulate the necessity of Christianity to best comprehend the world that we observe. Faith works to complement and enrich reason when maneuvering through questions of conscience, definitions of love, and frameworks for human rights. Though we struggle in our imperfection to fully grasp the mysteries of our Creator, we are enlivened by the unmatched intellectual coherency and emotional resonance of the Christian worldview. As you continue through these pages, reader, we invite you to reflect on the question “who am I?”, and hope that you may understand the reasons behind our earnest claim that all things hold together in him.

A Letter from the Editor

Apologia OnlineSubscription information for the journal or bi-weekly blog is available on our website at dartmouthapologia.org. Past issues of the journal are available online for archival viewing.

The opinions expressed in The Dartmouth Apologia are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of the journal, its editors, or Dartmouth College. Copyright © 2015 The Dartmouth Apologia.

SubmissionsWe welcome the submission of any article, essay, or artwork for publication in The Dartmouth Apologia. Submissions should seek to promote respectful, thoughtful discussion in the community. We will consider submissions from any member of the community but reserve the right to publish only those that align with our mission statement and quality rubric. Email: [email protected]

Letters to the EditorWe value your opinions and encourage thoughtful submissions expressing support, dissent, or other views. We will gladly consider any letter that is consistent with our mission statement’s focus on promoting intellectual discourse in the Dartmouth community.

Jake J. CasaleEditor-in-Chief

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The Dartmouth Apologia exists to articulate Christian perspectives

in the academic community.

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15

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INTERVIEW: The Implications of Naturalism and the Problem of Divine HiddennessDr. Michael Rea, Ph.D., Notre Dame

FAITH AND LEARNING:Does Christianity Pose a

Challenge to Intellectual Inquiry? Trevor Davis ’18

APPROACHING A CHRISTOCENTRIC VIEW OF WEALTH

Joshua Tseng-Tham ’17

RETHINKING HUMAN RIGHTSAndrew Zulker ’15

FROM GUT FEELINGS TO NATURAL LAW:

Perspectives on Conscience and the Role of Reason

Christopher Kymn ’18

KIERKEGAARD’S WORKS OF LOVEEmmanuel Hui ’17

INTERPRETING INSPIRATION:Linking God, Mankind, and the Written Word

Matthew West ’17

AN APPRECIATION OF ANGELS:How Angelic Beings Inform

the Christian LifeSara Holston ’17

BOOK REVIEW:Surprised by Hope, by N. T. Wright

Josh Alexakos ’17

9

A JOURNAL OF CHRISTIAN

THOUGHT

2 • The Dartmouth ApologiA • Fall 2015 ] [

The Implications of Naturalism and the Problem

of Divine Hiddenness

The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo Buonarroti, c. 1511

An Interview with Dr. Michael Rea

Fall 2015 • The Dartmouth ApologiA • 3] [

I want to start by talking about naturalism. Naturalism, in a colloquial sense, has many different meanings to many different people. Could you briefly define what naturalism is in the philosophical sense (and whether it is different from materialism and/or physicalism)? Why do you find naturalism so untenable?

In my book, World Without Design, I characterized naturalism as a disposition to treat the methods of science, and those methods alone, as basic sources of evidence. A basic source of evidence is one that you trust even in the absence of evidence in support of its reliability. It seems pretty clear that

we have to treat some sources as basic—e.g., we have to trust sources like sensory observation, mathematical and logical reasoning (all of which I take to be among “the methods of science”), rational intuition, religious experience, or some other source without first having an argument for the reliability of the source; for any argument we might offer would already presuppose the reliability of some source of evidence. So naturalism casts its lot with the methods of science and those methods alone.

Unlike naturalism, materialism and physicalism are probably best understood as metaphysical views rather than as dispositions to treat certain sources

Faraday’s Laboratory, c. 19th century

The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo Buonarroti, c. 1511

Dr. Michael Rea, Ph.D., is a Professor of Philosophy at the University of Notre Dame. He specializes in metaphysics and the philosophy of religion, and is the author of World Without Design: The Ontological Consequences of Naturalism (Oxford, 2002), Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion (Cambridge, 2008), and Metaphysics: The Basics (Routledge, 2014). He is the Co-Director for the Center for Philosophy of Religion at Notre Dame and the President of the Society of Christian Philosophers. In addition to his academic accomplishments, he participated at the University of Idaho Veritas Forum and spoke about the Problem of Evil. He is currently involved in The Experience Project, a three-year initiative at the University of Notre and the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, which seeks to explore the nature and implications of transformative, spiritual, and religious experiences.


of evidence as basic. Very roughly, materialism and physicalism are views about what everything is made of—matter, or physical objects. Naturalism, though, isn’t a view like that; indeed (so I say) it’s not a metaphysical view at all.

Some say that naturalism is self-defeating or otherwise irrational. Usually those objections against naturalism depend on understanding naturalism either as equivalent to some version of empiricism or as equivalent to some metaphysical thesis (e.g., the view that everything is spatiotemporal, or the view that there are no supernatural entities like God, ghosts, etc.). This isn’t my view, though. My objection to naturalism is just that if you treat the methods of science and those methods alone as basic sources of evidence, you find yourself unable to justify belief in realism about material objects, materialism about human minds, and realism about other minds.

Consider realism about material objects, for example. One tenet of this view is the claim that objects

have their identity conditions independently of human minds. So, for example, suppose you have a rabbit, Bugs, who is flattened by a steamroller. Does Bugs survive? We all know that the answer is ‘No’. But how do we know this? We know by observation that where we once had a rabbit, we now have a smear of erstwhile rabbit parts. But we do not know by observation that Bugs no longer exists is true and Bugs exists as a smear of erstwhile rabbit parts is false. Neither do we know this by way of any application of scientific methods. So how do we know it? Anti-realists say that we know it because our ways of thinking about the world partly determine what there is in the world. Whether or not Bugs continues to exist as a smear depends, on this view, partly on details about our concept of Bugs (or about our concept of rabbit-hood generally, or something other concept). If this is right, then Bugs is a mind-dependent object: whether Bugs continues to exist depends partly on the activities of human minds. Naturalists can accept this account of how we know that Bugs no longer exists, because they can allow that certain kinds of reasoning about concepts—in particular, reasoning about what features are included in a concept, and reasoning about the conditions under which a concept applies—fall within the methods of science. But what if we reject anti-realism? The only alternative, it seems, is to say that we know that Bugs

no longer exists by way of some means other than the methods of science, and whose reliability cannot be established by the methods of science—rational intuition, maybe, or divine revelation. So it seems that we face a choice: give up naturalism or embrace anti-realism about material objects. From here, it is a few short steps to concluding that naturalists must also give up materialism and realism about other minds. These conclusions aren’t necessarily devastating to naturalism; many philosophers accept anti-realism about material objects and reject materialism about minds for independent reasons; and some are even solipsists. But naturalists typically do not want to accept these conclusions. So my claim is that naturalism gives rise to a kind of “dissonance.” Moreover, it seems to me that realism about material objects and about other minds are very commonsensical views, so the fact that naturalism can’t accommodate those strikes me as a rather serious problem.

How would you define “common-sense” in this case? It seems that your argument is a pragmatic one – that is, given that the existence of certain entities is common sense, and that naturalism does not account for these entities, it is more reasonable to reject naturalism than to believe it. However, I can imagine a proponent of naturalism responding that it is in fact more “common-sense” to accept the methods of science alone as basic sources of evidence. To many naturalists, the methods of science are the pragmatic choice because they work. Thus, the existence of intrinsic modal properties may not be so commonsensical to the naturalist. If the methods of science work because they are testable, universal, and effective in predicting the future, how can we be sure that the entities you mentioned can fit within the realm of “common-sense”?

When I say that realism about material objects and realism about other minds are commonsensical views, I mean something like this: ordinary people are generally disposed to believe those views once they understand them; they are something like ‘default’ positions that people give up only as a result of philosophical theorizing. It seems to me that this is indeed true of realism about material objects and realism about other minds, but it does not at all seem true that naturalism is a default position for ordinary

My objection to naturalism is just that if you treat the methods of science and those methods alone as basic sources of evidence, you find yourself unable to justify belief in realism about material objects, materialism about human minds, and realism about other minds.


people. You pointed out that ‘the methods of science are the pragmatic choice because they work’. I’d say that they are a pragmatic choice because they work; and that ordinary people do indeed naturally trust the methods of science. But they naturally trust other sources of evidence too—intuition and (if they have it) religious experience as well.

What do you believe a successful refutation of naturalism necessarily entails about the state of reality? Is theism an ontological primacy in the absence of naturalism? Why?

I don’t think that naturalism is a thesis; so I don’t think it can be refuted. I also don’t think that abandoning naturalism entails anything in particular. What I’d say is that abandoning naturalism gives you better prospects for accommodating certain metaphysical views—realism about material objects, realism about other minds, and materialism about other minds—that many people want to accommodate. The reason is that abandoning naturalism opens up the possibility of trusting other sources of evidence—e.g., rational

intuition or religious experience—that many people do trust but whose credentials cannot be established by way of the sciences.

The question whether theism is an ontological primacy in the absence of naturalism is a bit hard to answer. It depends on what you mean by ‘ontological primacy’. I take it that your question is something like this: Suppose we give up naturalism. Must we then

posit God as the source of all being, and perhaps (as many theologians want to do) identify God as ‘Being itself ’? Or are there other alternatives to answering the so-called ‘question of Being’? I think that the answers to these questions are ‘no’ and ‘yes’, respectively. Many philosophers will deny that there is any such thing as Being itself, and will also deny that there is any unique ‘source’ of being. If I build a house, for example, there is a perfectly good sense in which I am the source of its being: I caused it to come to be. I think that many metaphysicians are inclined to think that the only meaningful question in the neighbourhood of “What is the source of being for x” is something like

Andromeda Galaxy by Adam Evans, 2010

I’d say that [the methods of science] are a pragmatic choice because they work; and that ordinary people do indeed naturally trust the

methods of science. But they naturally trust other sources of evidence too—intuition and (if they have it) religious experience as well.


the question “What were the causes of x?” And many metaphysicians will say that the first cause, if there was any such thing at all, was something natural: the Big Bang, or an initial singularity that “preceded” the Big Bang, something like that.

One of the more recent arguments that atheists have used against Christianity is the Problem of Divine Hiddenness. That is, if God exists, any reasonable person should come to know him. Some atheists have gone further by saying that if God exists, He would ensure that everyone will know him. However, it is clear that God’s existence, in particular, the existence of the Christian God, is not clearly evident to a vast majority of the world’s population. How would you respond to this argument? Does this argument prove that God does not exist, or at the very least, prove that God is indifferent to us?

I don’t believe that this argument proves that God doesn’t exist; nor do I believe that it proves that God is indifferent to us. I agree that God will ensure that everyone knows God; I also agree that the existence of the Christian God is not clearly evident to the vast majority of the world’s population. So far as I can tell,

those premises are not in tension with one another: everyone to whom the existence of God is not yet clear might still be such that, at some later time, God will ensure that they know God (or, at any rate, have an opportunity to choose a relationship with God).

Of course, one can tinker with the premises and tighten up the argument. E.g., one can say that if God loves us, God will ensure that everyone at every time is in a position to relate to God just by trying to do so. (This is, in effect, what John Schellenberg says.) But now we have to ask why we should think that this is a requirement of divine love. Schellenberg justifies this claim by appeal to analogies with parental love. Intuitively, a loving mother—a very good loving mother, anyway—would want there to be no time at which she is not in relationship with her child. She will always be open to relationship with her child; and if she were not limited in time, energy, resources, and so on, she would see to it that her child is always able to have a relationship with her just by willing to do

so. Moreover, Schellenberg thinks, it is obvious that reasonably believing that a person exists is a necessary condition on having a relationship with that person. So, he thinks, if God is at least as loving as a good loving mother, God would see to it that each human being is at all times able to have a relationship with God just by willing to do so; and, accordingly, God would see to it that every human being—at least every human being who is not actively resisting relationship to God--is always in a position to believe reasonably that God exists. But, of course, it seems that there are people who reasonably fail to believe in God; and so, if the reasoning here is sound, it seems we should conclude that there is no perfectly loving God.

As should be clear, the argument here depends heavily on the idea that divine love will look very much like idealized human parental love. Admittedly, the Bible does encourage us to think along these lines—parent analogies show up in both the Old Testament and the New, and Jesus explicitly encourages us to address God as “Our Father.” But the Bible also provides a variety of other images for understanding our relationship to God and it seems very clear on the

fact that, due to the vast differences between human beings and God and perhaps also due to God’s ability to appreciate and strive after goods well beyond our ken, the character and manifestation of divine love and goodness might very well violate the expectations we might form simply by reflecting on (fallen, human) love and goodness. In my opinion, reflecting on the vast differences between us and God yields two conclusions that help to defuse the problem that Schellenberg aims to raise. First, I think that we can safely conclude that a priori reflection on our human concept of love will not be a questionable guide to what expressions of divine love would have to look like. Second, I think that it is clear that we are in no position to definitively deny that divine hiddenness serves greater goods that might “justify” God in permitting people to live for significant periods of time outside of an explicit, believing relationship with God. Putting the two conclusions together, then, I think that what we ought to say is that we have no good reason to believe that,

…it seems very clear on the fact that, due to the vast differences between human beings and God and perhaps also due to God’s ability to appreciate and strive after goods well beyond our ken, the character and manifestation of divine love and goodness might very well violate the expectations we might form simply by reflecting on (fallen, human) love and goodness.


if God is perfectly loving, then God would see to it that everyone is at every time in a position to have a relationship with God just by willing it.

Could these “greater goods” be obtained by means that don’t require God to be hidden? If it is at least logically conceivable that God could have obtained these goods by other means, then it seems like a massive oversight on God’s part. Would God then be morally responsible for the damnation of those souls, even if those circumstances brought about a greater good?

I haven’t identified the greater goods in question, and I don’t claim to know them. It seems clear, however, that if divine hiddenness is justified solely by the fact that it contributes to greater goods, then those would have to be goods that God could not have obtained by other means. This isn’t quite to say that the greater goods in question require God to be hidden, though. Rather, the idea is that God allows for the possibility of divine hiddenness in order to achieve greater goods—goods which could not have been achieved had God refused to allow for the possibility of divine hiddenness. But whether divine hiddenness actually obtains or not might depend on how various contingent details work out.

It might sound a bit odd to talk about God

merely ‘allowing’ for the possibility of divine hiddenness. After all, isn’t hiding something that a person does intentionally (rather than merely allowing it to happen?) But here we must keep in mind that when people talk about divine hiddenness, there are various different phenomena—some which God might merely allow, others which God might actively bring about—that they might have in mind. When Schellenberg talks about divine hiddenness, he primarily has in mind the fact that some people (by virtue of innocently, reasonably failing to believe in God) are unable to participate in a relationship with God simply by trying to do so. Others include under the label ‘divine hiddenness’ the fact that some people have important but unfulfilled desires for experiences of the love and presence of God. Both of these phenomena are things that God might bring about deliberately; but they are also things that God might merely allow to happen to people. (I do not think that divine sovereignty or divine omnipotence imply that everything that happens is brought about by God; for that would imply that God brings about even our own sinful behavior, which seem problematic).

So, again, my claim is that divine hiddenness might be something that God merely allows rather than actively brings about, and that God might merely allow it in order to achieve greater goods (even though we may not be able to discern what those goods are). If that is right, then the goods in question do not require divine hiddenness. It might help to compare what I am saying about hiddenness with what some people say about evil. Many people think that God permits evil in order to achieve greater goods—goods like human freedom, or human soul making. But nobody would say that human freedom or human soul-making requires the existence of evil; rather, it requires—on this view—only that God allow for the possibility of evil in the world. Whether there actually is evil in the world, however, depends on what human beings freely decide to do.

Ultimately, however, I don’t want to commit myself to the idea that whatever greater goods justify the permission of divine hiddenness, they are goods that God merely allows rather than actively brings about. For all I know, divine hiddenness is the result of deliberate divine action. If that is true, then presumably the goods in question can’t be obtained (at least not without the sacrifice of other goods) by means other than ones involving some amount of divine hiddenness.

One last thought here before wrapping up my response to this question. You raise here the question whether there might be conditions under which, by virtue of allowing or bringing about divine hiddenness,

Christ as the Man of Sorrows by Lucas Cranach the Elder, c. 1530


God becomes morally responsible for the damnation of some people’s souls. To this question I say ‘no’. Jesus told his followers, “Seek and you shall find”; and my general impression of the message of Scripture is that God always responds positively to anyone who seeks God—perhaps not right away, perhaps not even in this life, but at some point. So I take myself to have no evidence that divine hiddenness as such ever results in anyone’s damnation, and to have some evidence from Scripture that in fact it doesn’t. That’s not to say that there are no further questions to ask here. Can someone absolutely innocently fail to seek God? (I think I’d want to say ‘no’.) What counts as seeking? (I think

I’d want to say something like, ‘being genuinely open to the existence of God and to having a relationship with God if God does exist’.) But defending answers to these questions—or even trying to offer answers less tentative than the ones I’ve just given—would make this response much, much longer than it already is.

A proponent of the Divine Hiddenness argument could reformulate the argument as a probabilistic claim. Thus, even if it were possible that God’s intentions were ultimately unknowable to us, or that He could have overriding reasons that justify his hiddenness, it does not follow that these possibilities were actually true. A pragmatic case could be made that the existence of a vast number of people who are not Christian prima facie provides a warrant for rejecting the plausibility of these explanations for God’s Hiddenness. How would you warrant these explanations in a way that makes them both plausible and likely?

You say that “a pragmatic case could be made that the existence of a vast number of people who are not Christian prima facie provides warrant for rejecting the plausibility of these explanations” for divine hiddenness. I do not believe that this is true. One point worth noting is that I haven’t exactly offered an explanation for divine hiddenness; rather, I have attempted to cast doubt on a certain conditional claim—namely, the claim that if God loves us, God will ensure that everyone at every time is in a position to relate to God just by trying to do so. I have said that one reason for withholding belief in this conditional is that we do not know enough about the nature of divine love to say definitively that the conditional is true. And I have

said that another reason for withholding belief in this claim is that we know far less than a perfectly loving God would know about the goods that could be served by allowing some people at some times to not be in a position to relate to God just by trying to do so. These explanations do not explain divine hiddenness; rather, they explain why one can’t infer the non-existence of God from the fact that divine hiddenness occurs. Now, does the existence of a vast number of people who are not Christian provide prima facie warrant for rejecting the plausibility of these explanations? I don’t think so. Neither of my two explanatory claims seems to depend on how many people are or are not Christian. To see

this, just consider whether learning that there are fewer Christians than you thought there were ought to make any difference in how plausible you find either of the following two claims: (A) we do not know enough about the nature of divine love to say definitively that if God loves us, then God will ensure that everyone is always in a position to relate to God just by trying to do so; (B) we know far less than a perfectly loving God would know about the goods that could be served by allowing some people at some times to not be in a position to relate to God just by trying to do so. It seems to me that one’s opinions about the plausibility of (A) and (B) ought to be wholly unaffected by new information about the distribution of Christian belief in the world; so it seems to me that this information casts no doubt on the plausibility of the explanations I have offered.

Jesus told his followers, “Seek and you shall find”; and my general impression of the message of Scripture is that God always responds positively to anyone who seeks God—perhaps not right away, perhaps not even in this life, but at some point.


does Christianity pose a challenge to intellectual inquiry?

and

faith learning:

Galileo explainng lunar topography to two cardinals, by Jean-Leon Huens, 1857

by Trevor Davis

10 • The Dartmouth ApologiA • Fall 2015] [

In June of 1633, Galileo Galilei Linceo was famously tried by the Roman Inquisition and sentenced to house arrest for the remainder

of his life.i Galileo’s trial centered on his teaching of heliocentric theory (presented in his Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems), which ran contrary to Catholic Church’s interpretation of certain biblical passages declaring the immovability of the Earth:

Tremble before him, all the Earth! The world is firmly established; it cannot be moved.ii

He set the earth on its foundations. It can never be moved.iii

Galileo taught heliocentric theory in a way that challenged the Church’s interpretation of the above passages, offending Pope Urban VIII in the process and ultimately bringing about his own trial. Consequently, Galileo was censured, and his works were placed on the Church’s Index Librorum Prohibitorum – the Index of Forbidden Books – along with Copernicus’ works on heliocentric theory from earlier years.iv

Similar censures resulted from Protestant doctrines. In 1613, The Lutheran Church excommunicated Johannes Kepler, famous today for his laws of planetary motion.v Kepler claimed that the moon is a planetary satellite in apparent contradiction to Scripture that described how “God made two great lights – the great light… and the lesser light to govern the night.”vi Again, a bold scientific statement opposed what Christians of the time interpreted from the Bible.

Such evidence of Christian opposition to scientific inquiry naturally raises questions and concerns. Chief among these is the Church’s relationship with the academy; does Christian tradition preclude intellectual inquiry? On the contrary, close examination of Scripture, Christian

theology, the historical record, and some instances of intellectual suppression reveal that Christianity is not an inherently epistemophobic tradition of faith.

The various texts of the Bible constitute the foundation of Christianity; because the conflicts with Galileo, Kepler, and others like them arose from clerical interpretation of Scripture, the Bible may yield insight into the Church’s historical stance on the advancement of knowledge. Specifically, Christians are encouraged to seek out knowledge for the purpose of wisdom

and discernment of God’s character. From the Old Testament, Christians are told that, “the heart of the discerning acquires knowledge, for the ears of the wise seek it out.”vii In the New Testament, Saint Paul urges followers of Christ to gain knowledge so that they might determine the truth of their faith for themselves:

and this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ – to the glory and praise of God.viii

Both of these biblical passages speak to the

importance to Christians of seeking knowledge as a means of discerning the will of God. It is therefore unsurprising that the Church of the past did not always hasten to adopt new scientific theories – valid or not, it’s difficult to see what even a claim as striking as the heliocentric theory, for example, might teach the Church about the will of God. However, there is also little evidence that such a theory would interfere with a Christian understanding of the will of God, current or present. The pursuit of knowledge is emphasized not only in the above biblical passage, but also through theological principles proclaimed by the Church itself. Therein lies the path to a possible, rational answer in the negative to the question, “Does Christian tradition preclude intellectual inquiry?”

Saint Paul’s first letter to the Philippians refers, importantly, to “depth of insight.” Paul’s juxtaposition of the phrase with the concept of holy discernment in this passage highlights “knowledge” as an important tool for the pious Christian. But this is not the only hint that the Church did and does consider intellectual inquiry a holy venture. Saint Thomas Aquinas, a priest

in the 13th century and among the most famous and highly regarded theologians, professed that reason and faith were complementary methods of studying the divinity of God. In fact, Aquinas described reason and faith as two modes of the same truth:

There is then a twofold sort of truth in things divine for the wise man to study: one that can be obtained by rational inquiry, another that transcends all the industry of reason. This

On the contrary, close examination of Scripture, Christian theology, the historical record, and some instances of intellectual suppression reveal that Christianity is not an inherently epistemophobic tradition of faith.


truth of things divine I do not call twofold on the part of God, who is one simple Truth, but on the part of our knowledge, as our cognitive faculty had different aptitudes for the knowledge of divine things […] natural reason cannot be contrary to the truth of faith.ix

Aquinas’ dependence on reason as an approach and compliment to faith in the divine – though not a substitute for such faith – forms the basis of the Christian intellectual tradition. Indeed, Pope Leo XIII granted

Thomism a central place in Catholic orthodoxy in his encyclical Aeterni Patris in 1879. Dr. Richard Grigg, a modern theologian and professor at Sacred Heart University, says of Thomism and intellectual inquiry: “If reason is trustworthy and cannot conflict with faith, then reason can indeed be allowed, in the words of John Paul II […] to ‘search for the truth wherever analysis and evidence lead.’ Academic freedom can be grounded in the Catholic commitment to reason.”x

History is rife with manifestations of Christian interest in the academy. By the 4th century, Christian teachers were prominent in Classical education.

Following Saint Augustine’s treatise De doctrina Christiana, followers of the young faith sought literacy and formal training in grammar, rhetoric, and philosophy in order to more rigorously study Scripture.xi After the fall of the Roman Empire in the 5th century, Christian monasteries became a stronghold of literacy, preserving the skills of reading and writing along with Greek and Latin texts on philosophy, astronomy, and mathematics. Bishops founded schools for young laypeople. In the 12th century, a “medieval renaissance” saw the creation of urban schools that

began instructing clerics; schools in Paris taught logic while others in Chartres taught the sciences. Greco-Arabic texts on cosmology, mathematics, and physics were translated and studied in Italy and Spain. Theology, ethics, navigation, medicine, and more were taught at Christian institutions.xii When Pope Gregory IX declared Toulouse the first studia generalia by papal bull in 1233, the modern university was born. Each studia generalia formed by papal or royal bull was widely recognized with the ability to authorize its doctoral or mastership admits with license to teach anywhere. (Note: a handful of older

After the fall of the Roman Empire in the 5th century, Christian monasteries became a stronghold of literacy, preserving the

skills of reading and writing along with Greek and Latin texts on philosophy, astronomy, and mathematics.

Johannes Kepler, 1610Monestir de Sant Pere de Rodes (El Port de la Selva) by SBA73, 2009


academic institutions such as Oxford became de facto studia generalia by force of reputation alone).xiii

In the 16th century, the Reformation wrought great changes on Western education as well, with Martin Luther promoting universal education, and Sir Francis Bacon championing the scientific method.xiv At the same time, the Jesuits began a Counter-Reformation that focused largely on education. By 1615 – only 81 years after the order was founded – the Jesuits had 372 colleges, and by 1755, they had 728.xv

Scripture, apologetics, and the history of education reflect a harmonious relationship between Christianity and the pursuit of knowledge. The Church has accepted rational thought – and by extension, intellectual inquiry – as consistent with, and even necessary in, pursuit of a Christian understanding of the divine. Yet, the cases of Copernicus, Galileo, and Kepler suggest a religious suppression of academia, or at least of scientific progress. However, historical sensationalism has perhaps underlined such cases and downplayed numerous counter examples. Of note in this discussion are (in no particular order): Sir Isaac Newton, Blaise Pascal, Michael Faraday, George Washington Carver, Gregor Mendel, James Clerk Maxwell, Louis Pasteur, Leonhard Euler, and many more renowned scientists who practiced some form of Christianity.xvi Furthermore, self-identifying Christians comprise 72.5% of Nobel Prize recipients in chemistry, 65.3% of those in physics, and 62% in medicine. Individuals within the 33.2% of the world’s Christians have collectively received 65.4% of Nobel Prizes since the prizes began in 1895.xvii In other words, Christians are outnumbered by non-Christians 2:1, yet the international community has recognized individuals’ excellence in academia at a ratio of 2:1,

Christians to non-Christians. Such a comparison bears no intention of competition, but rather the affirmation that intellectual inquiry even at the highest level is alive and well amongst the Christian community.

Yet these revelations again fail to address known instances of the Church suppressing intellectual inquiry, clearly at odds with the evidence supporting Christianity’s positive relationship with the academy. Christians have certainly suppressed new and challenging ideas in the past, but there is often more

to these instances than classic dogmatism, including personal sentiments like fear and pride that may cloud an individual’s judgment. One is reminded, for example, of the larger scientific community’s rejection of the theory of continental drift as recently as the 1950’s. Perhaps the most striking act of intellectual suppression was Marie Tharp’s dismissal from her position at Columbia University when she chose to pursue the theory.xviii Yet the theory of continental drift is now widely accepted, and actions taken against Thorp and others are seen as errors in judgment rather than the scientific community’s rejection of new ideas. Similarly, past misunderstandings regarding faith and science may have had more to do with individuals than an entire institution or religion.

Galileo’s trial is a prominent example of how personal affairs can affect Church matters. As mentioned above, a closer examination of Pope Urban VIII’s role in the trial of Galileo reveals nuances important to this discussion. Prior to writing his Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems, Galileo had spoken at length with Pope Urban VIII regarding the heliocentric theory. Pope Urban, a friend of Galileo’s and an initial supporter of the heliocentric theory, took personal offense when his words were

The Church has accepted rational thought - and by extension, intellectual inquiry - as consistent with, and even necessary in, pursuit of a Christian understanding of the divine.

Sunset behind Healy Hall by Patrick Morrissey, 2007 Aquinas House by Kane5187, 2007


used by the character Simplicio in Galileo’s dialogue (“Simplicio” roughly translates to “simpleton”).xix So great was the offense that it formed a portion of the Church’s formal charge against Galileo when they summoned him to Rome in 1632; he was accused of “having, in the body of the work, put the true doctrine in the mouth of a fool, and having approved it but feebly by the mouth of another interlocutor.”xx It is quite possible that Galileo’s strained relationship with Pope Urban VIII ultimately cost him his freedom after a trial that might not have happened at all had Galileo been more diplomatic in his writing. Similarly, the cases of Copernicus, Kepler, and others censured by Christians may be viewed as wrongdoings born out of fear, misunderstanding, and personal conflict, not fundamental conflict between the Church and

intellectual inquiry. Just as Christianity recognizes the necessity of reason as the lesser counterpart of faith, so too does it acknowledge that individuals often fall to temptation, including errors in judgment made from pride and stubbornness. From the Christian perspective, no human and certainly no Christian is exempt from these failures in the face of temptation – what the body of Christ refers to as sin. As Saint Paul said in his letter to the Romans, “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”xxi In the light of these shortcomings, Christians can only ask forgiveness of God and of their fellow man for mistakes of the past.

Such acts of repentance have in fact begun. Literature on the heliocentric theory has long since been removed from the Index Librorum Prohibitorum, along with many other works. In 2000, Pope John Paul II issued a public apology for the Church’s treatment of Galileo, as well as for historical attacks on women, native peoples, and Jews.xxii

Though many people still struggle with the dynamic between faith and science, Church-endorsed censures are a practice of the past. Today, Christianity continues to play a significant role in intellectual inquiry, with at least 13,000 Christian schools and 570 Christian universities in the United States alone – not counting universities founded as religious institutions that have since become secular, such as Dartmouth College and six of the seven other Ivy League universities.xxiii

So Christian tradition does not preclude intellectual inquiry. On the contrary, Christians have long been leaders in theology and philosophy, innovators in science and technology, and advocates of learning on all fronts. All such effort – despite failures,

sins, and difficulties – amounts to one ambition:

Do not be conformed to the pattern of the world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is – his good, pleasing, and perfect will.xxiv

Central to the above passage is the imperative to not conform. This warning encourages all of us to consider both our acceptance of and opposition to various traditions of faith and belief. Both Christians and non-Christians often misunderstand each other’s worldviews. As Thomas Aquinas believed, intellect is crucial to the comprehension of spirituality. Upon reflection, Christians and skeptics alike will hopefully embrace an

As Thomas Aquinas believed, intellect is crucial to the comprehension of spirituality.

Portrait of Pope Urban VIII by Pietro da Cortona, c. 1626


understanding of spiritual and moral beliefs separate from our own as an inherent part of intellectual inquiry.

i. Francis Wegg-Prosser, Galileo and his Judges (London, U.K.: Chapman and Hall, 1889), 87-88.ii. 1 Chronicles 16:30 (NIV).iii. Psalm 104:5 (NIV).iv. Wegg-Prosser, 87-90.; For more information regarding the complexities of the Galileo affair, see the Apologia’s “Galileo Revisited” (Part 1 at http://issuu.com/apologia/docs/apol07s/5, Part 2 at http://issuu.com/apologia/docs/apol07f.small/5).v. Dermott J. Mullan, “Excommunicated for Scientific Beliefs,” National Catholic Register, 30 November 2003, <http://www.ncregister.com/site/article/excommunicated_for_scientific_beliefs/>.vi. Genesis 1:16 (NIV).vii. Proverbs 18:15 (NIV).viii. Philippians 1:9-11 (NIV).ix. Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentiles, I, 9. <http://www3.nd.edu/~afreddos/courses/264/scgbk1chap1-9.htm>.x. Richard Grigg, “What is the Catholic Intellectual Tradition?” Sacred Heart University Review 13, no. 3, art. 4 (1993). xi. James Bowen and Henri-Irénée Marrou, Encyclopedia Britannica Online, s.v. “Education in Classical Cultures: Ancient Romans,” last accessed 31 July 2015, <http://www.britannica.com/topic/education#toc47476>.xii. James Bowen and Pierre Riché, Encyclopedia Britannica Online, s.v. “Europe in the Middle Ages: The Medieval Renaissance,” last accessed 31 July 2015, <http://www.britannica.com/topic/education/Europe-in-the-Middle-Ages#toc47507>.xiii. James Bowen and Pierre Riché, Encyclopedia Britannica Online, s.v. “The Medieval Renaissance: The Development of the Universities,” last accessed 31 July 2015, <http://www.britannica.com/topic/education/Europe-in-the-Middle-Ages#toc47507>.xiv. James Bowen and Ettore Gelpi, Encyclopedia Britannica Online, s.v. “European Renaissance and Reformation: Education in the Reformation and Counter-Reformation,” last accessed 31 July 2015, <http://www.britannica.com/topic/education/European-Renaissance-and-Reformation#toc47548>.xv. James Bowen and Ettore Gelpi, Encyclopedia Britannica Online, s.v. “Education in the Reformation and Counter-Reformation: The Roman Catholic Counter-Reformation,” last accessed 31 July 2015, <http://www.britannica.com/topic/education/European-Renaissance-and-Reformation#toc47548>.xvi. Rosalind W. Picard, “Sample of Famous Artists and Scientists who were Christians,” last accessed 15 August 2015, <http://web.media.mit.edu/~picard/personal/great_xians.php>.xvii. Baruch A. Shalev, 100 Years of Nobel Prizes (New Delhi, India: Atlantic Publishers & Distributors, 2003).

xviii. David A. Grimaldi and Michael S. Engel, “Why Descriptive Science Still Matters,” BioScience Vol. 57, No. 8 (September 2007): 646-647.xix. Weggs-Prosser, 51.xx. Weggs-Prosser, 80.xxi. Romans 3:23 (NIV).xxii. “The Galileo Affair,” The Vatican Observatory, accessed 20 July 2015, <http://vaticanobservatory.org/research/history-of-astronomy/54-history-of-astronomy/the-galileo-affair/370-the-galileo-affair>.xxiii. “Private School Universe Survey,” National Center for Education Statistics, 2007-2008, accessed 16 July 2015, <https://nces.ed.gov/surveys/pss/tables/table_2008_14.asp>; David M. Quinn, “Christian Colleges in the United States,” 5 July 2012, <http://www.davidmquinn.com/2012/07/how-many-christian-colleges-are-there.html>.xxiv. Romans 12:2 (NIV).

Trevor Davis ’18 is from Raleigh, NC. He is a prospective Computer Science major with a minor in Math.


The massive size, undeniable beauty, and historical significance of St. Peter’s Basilica make it the de facto heart of the Roman

Catholic Church, and a quintessential example of Christian beauty. Ralph Waldo Emerson, leader of the transcendentalist movement and critic of organized religion, was nonetheless struck with awe during his visit to the basilica:

It grieves me that after a few days I shall see it no more. It has a peculiar smell from the quantity of incense burned in it. The music that is heard in it is always good and the eye is always charmed. It is an ornament of the earth. It is not grand. It is so rich and pleasing: it should rather be called the sublime of the beautiful.i

And yet this universal sense of wonder and reverence at the church’s magnificence often gives

way to a more sinister interpretation. To many critics, secular and otherwise, St. Peter’s Basilica epitomizes the unholy alliance between Christianity and wealth: a testament to excessive opulence, an extreme concentration of power, and the vast socioeconomic chasm between clergy and laity. To the casual onlooker skeptical of the Catholic Church’s wealth, the concern is not how beautiful their churches are, but the cost at which they were built.

Obviously, this problem is not restricted to the Catholic Church. The intense media scrutiny on the fortune of Orthodox patriarchs in Russia and megachurch pastors and televangelists in the United States points to a recurring element among Christians of all stripes – many Christians, whether Protestant, Catholic, or Orthodox, are extremely wealthy.ii What’s more, these Christians pursue and maintain their wealth in the light of biblical teachings that

By Joshua Tseng-Tham

approaching a ChristoCentriC

view of wealth

The Nave of St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican

by Giovanni Paolo Pannini, 1735


seem to elevate generosity and poverty above the worldly pursuit of wealth. Critics frequently evoke Jesus’ declaration that “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God” as an attack on the accumulation of wealth.iii Subsequently, the early church’s excessive generosity in the Book of Acts only reinforces the image of a religion that glorifies poverty and demonizes wealth.iv This criticism of Christian hypocrisy concerning wealth, therefore, amounts to a very sweeping indictment. It condemns the clergy and the laity, the rich and the middle-class, and anyone unwilling to take a vow of poverty or charity. The implication, if true, is a vast paradigm shift in the Christian understanding of vocation, and would

be a huge disruption to the comfortable lives of many devout Christians.

At first glance, this criticism seems to overextend itself. Even among outspoken critics of Christian wealth, most reserve their ire for the clergy and the ultra-wealthy. Still, this broader indictment of comfortable Christians is not only poignant but also reasonable, in large part because Christians themselves disagree on the proper role of wealth and its place

Aristotle, ancient Greek philosopher by Thomas Stanley, c. 1655

within Christian theology. Dorothy Day, founder of the Catholic Worker Movement, saw the attachment to material goods as a distraction from God. Thus she eschewed material goods and advocated voluntary poverty for devout Catholics.v On the contrary, John Wesley, in his sermon The Use of Money, saw wealth as a useful tool that could be utilized for good.vi

Regardless of the chasm between these two popular viewpoints, polarized disagreement does not mean that an answer to the question of wealth cannot be found. A proper Christian conception of wealth reconciles the scriptural passages that support both sides of the debate into one coherent whole, ultimately revealing a more nuanced picture of wealth that recognizes its value while warning against taking it too seriously.

Of course, defining wealth is an important first step in building a proper understanding of its place in the Christian life. A proper understanding of wealth will allow us to discern whether wealth itself has any moral quality, which will inform an incisive examination of claims of hypocrisy in Christian institutions. This means that the value of wealth is a deeply philosophical question, in addition to its theological implications. Within the history of Western philosophical discourse, one of the more nuanced portraits of wealth also comes from its most influential thinker. Aristotle, in his work Nicomachean Ethics, distinguishes between two types of goods – intrinsic and instrumental. An intrinsic good is an “end pursued in its own right,” whereas an instrumental good is “an end pursued because of something else.”vii He defined wealth as an instrumental good, on the account that no person seeks wealth for its own sake, but rather for the sake of using that wealth to obtain other goods.viii Money is the quintessential proxy for wealth, as people pursue money not for its intrinsic qualities, but for its ability to purchase goods such as food, water, and shelter. But food, water, and shelter are also instrumental goods in the sense that we still pursue them for external ends, namely health and protection. Furthermore, both health and protection are still instrumental; their ultimate end is to promote eudemonia (“happiness”). To achieve eudemonia is to live the “good” life, a life filled with virtuous activity that cultivates the rational part of the soul.ix If the ultimate end of wealth is eudemonia, then excessive wealth may not be desirable if its accumulation cultivates vices such as greed,

A proper Christian conception of wealth reconciles the scriptural passages that support both sides of the debate into one coherent whole, ultimately revealing a more nuanced picture of wealth that recognizes its value while warning against taking it too seriously.


God promised to all the Israelites, which signified wealth and prosperity in ancient times.xv These few examples serve as a reminder of the truism that wealth is an object of instrumental value. Its existence is not only condoned in the Old Testament but is sometimes associated with virtuous behavior. This means that wealth cannot be simply discounted as a fetish of greedy, corrupt men. Rather, God’s occasional use of wealth as a blessing and a reward for virtue provides a warrant for the Aristotelian idea of wealth as an instrumental good.

Likewise, the New Testament passages that

seemed to denounce wealth are in fact condemning its abuse. Those passages are not condemning wealth, or even riches, per se, but rather the ascendency of wealth as a replacement for God. The rich in those parables were condemned because they failed to see wealth as an instrumental good, instead seeing it as an intrinsic good that was to be pursued for its own sake.xvi There is no doubt that the possession of extreme wealth can distract one from living the good life, which is why

Andrew Carnegie by Frances Benjamin Johnston, c. 1905

selfishness, and decadence. Thus Aristotle, in this context, does not define wealth as strictly money, but rather uses wealth to encompass all material goods that serve to fulfill particular basal needs, which in turn orient the person towards a life of virtue if used deliberatively.

Aristotle’s nuanced portrait of wealth can be valuable when used to examine the seemingly contradictory portraits of wealth within Scripture. The New Testament in particular contains many implicit criticisms of wealth and those who hold it. Mary’s Song in the Gospel of Luke describes God as one who “filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty.”x Jesus notably dichotomizes the love of money and the love of God, saying that the two cannot coexist, and so to forgo one’s love of money is a prerequisite to living a righteous life.xi The wealthy are frequently depicted in Jesus’ parables as unrighteous, greedy individuals in need of repentance.xii These passages, and many others like them, prima facie do not seem at all to correspond with Aristotle’s conception of wealth. Whilst Aristotle criticized excessive wealth, he at least saw some use in its ability to promote the good life. By contrast, the Gospels take a distinctively critical look at wealth, and wealth’s function is often relegated to it being an expression of one’s generosity. In fact, judging by Jesus’ lifestyle and his rejection of material wealth, it is not surprising that many people extrapolate these passages as a universal condemnation of wealth altogether.

Nevertheless, a theology of wealth based on a non-contextual reading of New Testament verses fails to address Aristotle’s account directly and unfortunately ignores its persuasive force. Indeed, a relationship between the biblical attitude towards wealth and Aristotle’s position becomes clearer once the Old Testament is taken into account. A frequent trope that recurs throughout the Old Testament is God’s tendency

to bless faithful people with riches. For instance, God blesses Job with extraordinary wealth by giving him “twice as much as he had before” as a reward for his faithfulness in the midst of his suffering.xiii On another occasion, God promises Solomon both wisdom and riches in response to his request for only wisdom, making Solomon one of the richest kings of the earth.xiv Lastly, the Old Testament frequently evokes poetic imagery of “milk and honey” when describing the land

This means that wealth cannot be simply discounted as a fetish of greedy, corrupt men. Rather, God’s occasional use of wealth

as a blessing and a reward for virtue provides a warrant for the Aristotelian idea of wealth as an instrumental good.


Jesus acknowledged the difficulties the rich face when trying to reach salvation. But salvation and goodness are by no means exclusive to the poor, and the positive accounts of rich individuals in the Old Testament mean that the rich are not intrinsically excluded from heaven. What this does mean, however, is that there is a difference between the human economy and “God’s economy.” Human economy consists of material wealth, pleasure, and power. But God’s economy is fundamentally relational – measured by one’s personal relationship with God and lived out by the virtues that one develops and cultivates over the course of one’s life. If there is a place for wealth in God’s economy, it only exists in a tangential sense. When considered properly, wealth can be a particular way of experiencing blessing that empowers the individual to then turn that blessing outwards and show it to others.

But even this view left unattended carries the risk of viewing wealth too seriously. Richard John Neuhaus, former Editor of First Things, criticized the moralizing and theologizing of economic matters that was “dramatically evident in America in the Social Gospel movement of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries… [and] in the liberation theology of some Roman Catholics.”xvii In this view of wealth,

good economics is invariably tied with good theology, because work itself is directed towards definite ends that have theological consequences. This phenomenon is not strictly a socialistic development, and is also found within many capitalistic conceptions of wealth. Andrew Carnegie, steel magnate and philanthropist, saw the administration of wealth by the rich as a moral responsibility. In his Gospel of Wealth, Carnegie praised capitalism as the main driver for progress and growth while calling his fellow businessmen to put their money towards the public good. He believed that a truly ideal society emancipates capitalism while having its elite attend those who are left behind in society’s collective pursuit of wealth.xviii Success, therefore, is not measured by the wealth one accumulates, but rather how that wealth is given away. Both directions, while opposite in application, are nevertheless grounded in a common source – that wealth, being the primary means of attaining the good life, is determinative of everything else. Far from being a Christian view of wealth, it is an Aristotelian view embedded with a theological tinge that is stretched to its logical endpoint.

For what separates the Christian view of wealth

from a strictly Aristotelian one is the emphasis on a relationship with God as the ultimate good and the de-emphasis on wealth as something that matters in an ultimate sense. In response to the theologizing of economics, Neuhaus proposed an alternative

perspective of “Pauline lightheartedness” with respect to wealth. Appealing to Paul’s letters to the Corinthians, he draws three observations. First, Paul displayed an unusual playfulness with respect to worldly goods, reminding the Corinthians that “time is short,” and therefore they should live without concern, “for this world in its present form is passing away.”xix Second, Paul believed that Christ fundamentally transformed the Christian’s essence because of his status as a “new creation: the old [of which] has gone” through Christ’s saving grace.xx Lastly, Paul taunts the world’s standards by juxtaposing the world’s perspective of the church with God’s standards. While the world sees the church as “dying…beaten…sorrowful…[and] poor,” the truth is that the church perseveres through the richness of its faith, rejoicing in Christ’s glory and eternally hopeful for what is to come.xxi

Neuhaus aptly characterizes this relaxed approach as an “easy come, easy go” attitude. According to Paul, wealth does not really matter. What does matter to Paul is the focus on God as the ultimate good, and the irrelevance of wealth as a pathway to that good:

The folly of the “wisdom” of the world…is

If you want to be perfect (Christ and the rich young man) by Andrey Mironov, 2010

According to Paul, wealth does not really matter. What does matter to Paul is the focus on God as the ultimate good, and the irrelevance of wealth as a pathway to that good


freed from obligations in the world; indeed he is freed to fulfill such obligations.”xxiii Central to this notion

is the idea that denying wealth’s intrinsic value frees the Christian from desiring it, and removes the anxiety associated with losing it. Pauline lightheartedness reorients one’s priorities away from wealth and towards a relationship with God. By emancipating oneself from this anxiety, generosity is no longer a sacrifice between two competing goods but a consistent desire towards the one ultimate good.

The biggest problem with this accusation of hypocrisy is the narrow view of generosity that it presupposes. The claim assumes that the only way one can measure an institution’s level of generosity is by its amount of charitable giving. But this assertion is disingenuous, even ignoring the Catholic Church’s status as the largest charitable organization in the world.xxiv In particular, this measure ignores the intangible benefits of beauty and spiritual fulfillment

The Apostle Paul, c. 1000

in failing to recognize that the wealth that really counts is the wealth of God and of life in God. References to riches in Paul apply almost invariably to God, Christ, and the Christian community. It might be said that Paul “spiritualizes” wealth, but it is more accurate to say that he “eschatologizes” wealth and thereby radically relativizes its importance. Christ is the true plousios, the word of God dwells “richly” in the community, and Christians are made rich through the poverty of Christ, which in the mystery of God is true wealth.xxii

Thus Christians are called into a state of radical poverty. Far from being a measure of material wealth, to be radically impoverished is to be liberated from the concept of wealth as an important feature in one’s life. This by no means condemns the accumulation of wealth, but it does compel a sense of indifference to having it. Paul, rather than moralizing about the rich or riches, is proposing something conceptually simple and yet practically challenging. To accumulate true wealth is to simply follow Christ, but in doing so one must reject the worldly wisdom that trusts in the importance of possessions. Fortunately, the realization that true riches lie in God and the subsequent pursuit of him leads one to genuine eudemonia.

Given this understanding of material goods, it is clear that Christianity is not intrinsically opposed to wealth. Rather, insofar as Christians are not attached to it and give generously to those in need, Christians

are free to have wealth and produce it for themselves. Of course, it is hard to separate the act of producing wealth and the context by which it is being done. While Christianity holds that wealth itself neither helps nor hinders one’s standing before God, it nonetheless holds to the Aristotelian view that if one does have wealth, it must be used in a way that is oriented towards a virtuous life. Still, this raises the question of whether the Church is doing such a thing. A common criticism against the Catholic Church is that, rather than using its wealth for charity, the Church uses it to invest in rare artifacts, extravagant buildings, and priceless artistic collections. Before investigating whether this claim is true, it is important to note how the Christian view on wealth actually makes authentic generosity possible. According to Neuhaus, a Pauline lightheartedness towards wealth still means that “the Christian is not

Thus Christians are called into a state of radical poverty. Far from being a measure of material wealth, to be radically impoverished is to be liberated from the concept of wealth as an important feature

in one’s life.


and the role the Church has played in providing these needs for the community. Duncan G. Stroik, professor of architecture at Notre Dame, correctly recognizes the

value of beauty and its importance to the poor:

Do the poor need beauty? Yes, maybe even more than other people do. The poor need beauty to ennoble them, to raise them up out of the morass of this fallen world… Their own houses may have been simple, but their communal home sought to be a work of art, full of iconography and richness… where do they find the richness of culture and the majesty of nature but in the dome of a cathedral or the stained glass of a church?xxv

The power that beauty has to infuse our lives with meaning and dignity attests to its essential role in the formation of human experience. The desire that humans have for aesthetics is different from the desire for food and drink; while sustenance fulfills our ends as animals, beauty fulfills our end as rational creatures. Christianity not only recognizes beauty’s importance, but also sees it as a reflection of God

himself, and thus it can be a means to draw nearer to him. The Church, in funding beautiful churches, does so with the intent of sharing this beauty with the wider Christian community. Liquidating the Church would only further concentrate these treasures into the hands of private wealthy collectors. The public display of art transforms the Church’s wealth into a public good, providing the opportunity to participate in this rich culture to those who would otherwise never afford it. Thus to be truly generous, there must be a way to not only provide the poor with sustenance but also allow them to experience the beauty that many people take for granted. The Church, in providing both physical and spiritual charity, fulfills this role in a balanced way.

Addressing each accusation of hypocrisy against every Christian denomination would be impossible, and there is no doubt that there are hypocritical Christians within every denomination that preach poverty but practice excess. At the same time, it is important to note the difference between institutional wealth and personal wealth. There is a difference between a wealthy man who consumes for his own sake, isolating himself from the poor, and a wealthy Church that invites the poor inside and provides for their spiritual needs. The Church’s wealth does not belong to its pastors and priests in any relevant sense – and those who do exploit the Church’s wealth for their own selfish gain can rightly be called hypocritical.xxvi Regardless, critics of the Church that level these allegations against members of the clergy unfortunately

draw the false conclusion that an indictment against a person is an indictment against the Church as a whole.

What these critics often forget is that the Church recognizes that her stewards are imperfect; in fact, it is almost expected. The Apostle Paul wrote that, “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”xxvii Our sinful nature precludes us from ever approaching the ideal standard of Christian living – a perfect communion with God that is fully dependent on him. Thus someone who considers wealth to be inherently contradictory to Christianity must also consider that many benign actions also divert one’s attention away from God. If any action that has this effect is “hypocritical,” then this question is ultimately meaningless. Presumably, the critic is claiming that a wealthy Church is not only hypocritical but immoral. But it is clear that wealth is not inherently immoral and the accumulation of such does not prevent one from acting virtuously. At

A Nun (Sister of Charity) feeding a sick patient by Claude Duflos, c. 17th century

The public display of art transforms the Church’s wealth into a public good, providing the opportunity to participate in this rich culture to those who would otherwise never afford it.


Joshua Tseng-Tham ’17 is from Toronto, Ontario, Canada. He is a double major in Economics and Philosophy.

the same time, the call to Pauline lightheartedness indicates that material wealth is in some way contrary to the ideal. But this classifies wealth in the Church as a product of humanity’s wounded nature, rather than something deserving of moral indignation. The acts that many people rightfully consider worthy of ire come from the equation of God’s economy with the human economy. To escape this hypocrisy, there must be a detachment from wealth that makes one’s human economy subordinate to God’s. In doing so, the virtuous man is free to pursue a poverty that is truly radical.

i. Joel Porte, comp., Emerson in His Journals (Cambridge: Belknap Press, 1984), 103.ii. “Russia’s Patriarch Kirill in furore over luxury watch,” BBC, 5 April 2012, <http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-17622820>; “Televangelist asks followers to buy him $65 million jet,” CBS News, 21 May 2015, <http://www.cbsnews.com/news/televangelist-creflo-dollar-under-scrutiny-asking-for-65-million-private-jet/>.iii. Matthew 19:24 (NIV).iv. See Acts 2:42-45; Acts 4:34-35; Acts 11:29.v. Nancy L. Roberts, Dorothy Day and the Catholic Worker (Albany, New York: State University of New York Press, 1984), 10.vi. Jennette Descalzo, ed., “The Sermons of John Wesley - Sermon 50: The Use Of Money,” Wesley Center Online, last modified 1999, <http://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-sermons-of-john-wesley-1872-edition/sermon-50-the-use-of-money/>.vii. Aristotle, “Nicomachean Ethics,” in Classics of Western Philosophy, 8th Edition, ed. Steven M. Cahn (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., 2012), 279.viii. Aristotle, 277.ix. Richard Kraut, “Aristotle’s Ethics,” The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. Edward N. Zalta, 21 June 2014, <http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2014/entries/aristotle-ethics/>.x. Luke 1:53 (NIV).xi. See Matthew 6:24.xii. See Luke 12:13-21 (The Parable of the Rich Fool) and Luke 16:19-31 (The Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus).xiii. Job 42:10 (NIV).xiv. See 1 Kings 3:11-13; 2 Chronicles 9:22.xv. See Exodus 3:8; Deuteronomy 6:3; Joshua 5:6.xvi. For instance, Jesus’ condemnation of the love of money is entirely consistent with the Aristotelian view of wealth as an instrumental good. It is an indictment against the elevation of money over God, which would make money an intrinsic good rather than an instrumental one.xvii. Richard John Neuhaus, “Wealth and Whimsy:

On Economic Creativity,” First Things (August 1990).xviii. Andrew Carnegie, “Wealth,” The North American Review 148, no. 391 (1889): 663-664.xix. 1 Corinthians 7:29-32 (NIV).xx. 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV).xxi. 2 Corinthians 6:9-10 (NIV).xxii. Neuhaus, Wealth.xxiii. Neuhaus, Wealth.xxiv. “The Catholic Church in America: The working,” The Economist, 16 August 2012, <http://www.economist.com/blogs/newsbook/2012/08/catholic-church-america>; “Who We Are: Foundation Fact Sheet,” Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, last modified 31 March 2015, <http://www.gatesfoundation.org/Who-We-Are/General-Information/Foundation-Factsheet>; The Catholic Church spends $98.6 billion on healthcare in the United States in 2012, twice as much as the entire endowment of the Bill & Melinda Gates foundation, the wealthiest secular non-profit in the world. xxv. Duncan G. Stroik, “Beauty is for the Poor, Too,” Crisis Magazine, 27 June 2014, <http://www.crisismagazine.com/2014/beauty-poor>.xxvi. “Bishops, church groups set pay scale for priceless priests,” Catholic Review, 1 July 2007, <http://catholicreview.org/article/play/travel/bishops-church-groups-set-pay-scale-for-priceless-priests>; If we assume that all priests are paid the maximum rate ($31,000), and add $10,000 for associated benefits, priests would still only make the equivalent of $19.71/hour.xxvii. Romans 3:23 (NIV).


HUMANRIGHTS

RETHINKING

By Andrew Zulker

Eleanor Roosevelt and the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights in Spanish Text, 1949


RIGHTS

RETHINKINGIntroduction

Human rights is one of the most captivating ideas in the world today. The beautiful and liberating notion that all people are created equal and, simply by virtue of their being human, have a right to be alive, to be free, to have things that they can call their own, and to live as they wish to live, has had an unparalleled impact on the past four hundred years of human history. It has provided a moral foundation for some of the most admirable struggles against oppression and evil in the history of the West, and has in many ways inspired a new genre of societies, social structures and systems of government all around the world. If there is a single religion being advanced in the age of pluralism, it is human rights, and so much true good is brought about in the world in its name that we hardly stop to think about what it means, and dare not question it.

In this article, however, I would like to re-examine human rights. Not particular human rights, but the overarching idea that every human being is inherently deserving of certain goods and freedoms. Where did the human rights rhetoric come from, what story does it tell, and what effects does it have? Seeing as this idea has become one of the primary underpinnings for public morality in much of the world, it is worth a second look.

The History of the Idea, BrieflyThe language of human rights originates in large

part in the Enlightenment. Hugo Grotius’ Rights of War and Peace (1625), the English Bill of Rights of 1689, John Locke’s Second Treatise of Government (1690), and other writings laid the foundations. By natural law, they argued, all human beings have rights that others, particularly their sovereigns, must respect. Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s The Social Contract (1762) and many others developed the idea further in the eighteenth century, and two revolutions put it into practice—the American Revolution and the French Revolution. The Declaration of Independence for the Americans and the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen for the French both proclaimed that human rights, inherent and equally shared by all, were the basis for the new governments.

The horrors of the Second World War prompted a strengthening of human rights rhetoric. In 1948, the United Nations General Assembly drafted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), which remains one of the cornerstones of international humanitarian law. Appalled at the atrocities of the war, world leaders came together to write the document that they hoped would never allow such things to happen again.i Recognition of human rights, they wrote, was “the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world,” and “disregard and contempt for human rights have resulted in barbarous acts which have outraged the conscience of mankind.”ii Reflecting on the process of writing the declaration, Hernán Santa Cruz of Chile wrote:

I perceived clearly that I was participating in a truly significant historic event in which a consensus had been reached as to the supreme value of the human person, a value that did not originate in the decision of a worldly power, but rather in the fact of existing—which gave rise to the inalienable right to live free from want and oppression and to fully develop one’s personality.iii

The abolition of the slave trade and of slavery in the nineteenth century, the Civil Rights movement of the 1950s and 60s in the United States, feminist movements around the world, and many other movements have further worked out and continue to work out the societal and social implications of human rights. Today, human rights continue to be the primary lens through which rights and wrongs, especially on a global scale, are evaluated and interpreted. Human rights has become the basis for international morality; it is essentially synonymous with justice.

Reasons to Look ElsewhereVictories for justice such as those won in the

abolition of the slave trade are, without any shadow of doubt, good things and worth celebrating wholeheartedly. But even if the house is good, the foundation may still be weak. In the case of human rights, as a foundation, there are some signs of weakness, which may prompt us to look for other, better reasons for celebrating the same victories in the

“I perceived clearly that I was participating in a truly significant historic event in which a consensus had been reached as to the supreme value

of the human person, a value that did not originate in the decision of a worldly power, but rather in the fact of existing—which gave rise to

the inalienable right to live free from want and oppression and to fully develop one’s personality.” - Hernán Santa Cruz


past and pursuing justice and compassion today. First of all, it is not entirely apparent where human

rights come from. Early proponents claimed that they were God-given, though many who support human rights today do not believe that there is a God who could have given them. But if it is merely a human invention, on what grounds is it superior to other systems of morality?

Second, it is not entirely apparent what exactly the rights are. The UDHR defines thirty of them, but are there more, and how would we know?

Thirdly, in and of itself, the message of human rights does not have the power to bring about love, one of the most fundamental human needs. The drafters of the UDHR had high hopes—“the advent of a world in which human beings shall enjoy freedom of speech and belief and freedom from fear and want”iv—and in their conception, seemingly the only thing holding us back from this ideal state is the not-yet-universal acceptance of human rights ideals. But what do we fear more than being merely tolerated? What do we want more than to be fully known and loved without reserve? Human rights can expose and condemn the grossest atrocities, but if we look to it, by itself, to engender reconciliation and love, it leaves us malnourished. On the contrary, in some cases, rights can become fuel for fires of antagonism and bitterness, with apparently no way out.

A Foundation for Justice: Responsibilities, Not Rights

The house of justice needs a foundation, and although we often take for granted that inherent human rights and dignity must underlie humane laws, there are in fact two reasons for which any injustice could be unjust. Let us take a simple example: it is wrong for Jim to kill Bob. Why? It could be, as the inherent rights view would answer, that Bob has an inherent right not to be killed. As a human being, he has rights that makes it wrong for someone to kill him because of something about him. On the other hand, an option that we seem to overlook, it could be because Jim does not have a right to kill Bob, regardless of who Bob is. The wrongness of Jim killing Bob comes from a constraint on Jim rather than from a quality of Bob. It is not that Bob necessarily has a right not to die; Jim simply has no right to kill him.

This latter perspective is, in fact, reflected in our own legal system at least in some ways. Suppose that Bob has murdered the rest of Jim’s family along with hundreds of other people. Bob has committed a capital crime, and positively deserves to die, yet Jim does not have the right to kill him. Bob’s “right” to live, even if it was there to begin with, has been removed, but the

constraint on Jim remains. The only way Jim could kill Bob is if he were an executioner, commissioned by a higher system of justice to do so. That is to say, it is only permissible for Jim to kill Bob when there is no longer a constraint on Jim making it wrong for him to do so.

In both of these cases, the same law is upheld: it is wrong for Jim to kill Bob. In the former, it is wrong because the patient has a right not to suffer the crime; in the latter, because the agent does not have a right to commit it.

This is why, as I said earlier, I am not here calling into question individual human rights or individual laws. All of the thirty articles of the UDHR could be reframed—taken off the foundation of rights and placed on the foundation of responsibilities—and otherwise remain the same. The same things can be right and wrong regardless of which foundation they are on. What I am questioning is why the final appeal of the law should be to an inherent right of human beings not to suffer certain injustices, and why this is a better foundation than to say that we each ought to do or not do certain things.

While the law does not necessarily change

Portrait of Hugo Grotius by Michiel Jansz. van Mierevelt, 1631


depending on which foundation is supporting it, what does change is how we think about ourselves human beings. What is our status in the cosmos? Do human beings have rights inherently, as part of our nature? That is to say, are our rights there as a technical by-product of the law, or are they inherent, such that the law itself has an obligation to recognize them? Does justice itself bow to us and our inherent dignity?

Through the Christian Lens: Creation and Human Dignity

According to the Christian Scriptures, no, at least not axiomatically. As for dignity: compared to the heavens, “the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,” humans are puny bits of flesh and bone, insignificant amidst the grandeur of the universe. “What is man that you are mindful of him?” the psalmist asks. “Yet you have… crowned him with glory and honor. You have given him dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under his feet.”v We do have dignity, but it is not axiomatic and self-evident; it is God-given. Self-evident and God-given are not the same thing. God-given dignity

humbles us and causes us to sing songs. As for rights, God himself, and God alone,

inherently deserves anything. “Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name.”vi “Oh come, let us sing to the LORD; let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation!… For the LORD is a great God, and a great King above all gods…. Oh come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the LORD, our Maker!”vii God has the right to be worshiped; we and everything else are made to bow to him. The first and greatest commandment, Jesus taught, is, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind.”viii God deserves all of this purely because he is God.

Our responsibility, as his creatures, is to worship him: to delight in him, to enjoy him, to trust him, to obey him; never to turn aside to take more delight in something else than in him, never to doubt him and turn aside to another to satisfy us, never to disobey his word. He has these rights because he is, and all the more because he made us, and all the more because he has freely given us every good thing we have to enjoy.

Room XX, Palais des Nations, 2011


When the prophet Nathan confronted King David about the murder and adultery he had recently committed, David recognized his offense as primarily against God: “Have mercy on me, O God; according to your steadfast love…. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight.”ix David had violated a woman and had killed her husband, and had harmed many others in the process. But at the heart of it, Nathan said, was this: “By this deed you have utterly scorned the LORD.”x

Human rights, then, are secondary, deriving from God’s law and God’s rights, rather than being inherent to us. Any infraction of God’s law—murder, adultery, theft, bearing false witness, covetousness—is an infraction of this first commandment, because it flies in the face of God’s lordship. Everything we call a human rights violation is much more a divine rights violation. The one who enslaves his brother has not merely offended his brother. He has offended his Maker, the God of the universe.

The human rights discourse tries to define and

uphold justice with no God in the picture. It does so by making ourselves the gods, the highest beings in the universe, dependent on no one and responsible to no one but ourselves. Human rights are conceived of as axiomatic, self-evident. But true justice revolves entirely around God, that at the end of the day we are answerable to him. He will be our judge.

What We All DeserveIf this is the case, justice suddenly looks less

friendly. We are not basically deserving, basically good independent agents. We are accountable to our Maker and answerable to his perfect law, and, as our guilty consciences affirm, we have fallen short. The apostle Paul writes:

Although [humanity] knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, and they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling

The Last Judgment Tympanum at Autun Cathedral by Giselbertus, 12th century

Everything we call a human rights violation is much more a divine rights violation.


mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles.xi

We have all turned away from God to worship other things: ourselves, other people, and other things that God has made. “None is righteous,” Paul quotes from the Psalms, “no, not one.”xii

God, our Creator, possesses in his infinitely good and glorious nature the right to be worshiped, obeyed, and loved by all of his creatures. He deserves our wholehearted allegiance; this is cosmic justice. We, however, have dared to rebel against him, disobeying and dishonoring him in how we treat both him and our fellow human beings. We have declared that we are the only gods our world need know. For such crimes, we deserve punishment and death.

This is our status in the cosmic court: guilty—guilty of gross and pervasive divine rights violations. “Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” are far from what we deserve. If all the wrongs in the world were to be righted, without other intervention on God’s part, it would not be the case that no human would any longer be oppressed or mistreated. On the contrary, if we all got what we deserved under the law, no one would survive. God would be just to utterly destroy us.

Yet, Christianity announces, there is overwhelmingly good news. God has intervened in our hopeless situation. We deserve his burning anger, but he has given us his Son Jesus, to suffer death for our divine rights violations in our place. “God so loved the world,” writes the apostle John, “that he gave his one and only Son, so that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”xiii God will indeed judge the world, but those who repent of their rebellion against him and place their trust in Jesus will be saved. Jesus serves their death penalty for them, and their records are made perfect. His righteousness, and all the riches of the kingdom of heaven, are given to them freely, as a gift. God’s generosity is beyond imagination.

How We Treat One AnotherThe UDHR suggests that if governments

universally recognized human rights, the world would be a better place. Insofar as recognizing human rights means acting justly, I agree. But a top-down approach—governments adopting the religion of human rights—certainly cannot inspire love, especially love to the undeserving. Even if an international committee were to decide that all human beings have the right to be

The Milky Way in the night sky over Black Rock Desert, Nevada by Steve Jurveston, 2007

Ecce Homo by Mateo Cerezo, c. 1650

This is our status in the cosmic court: guilty—guilty of gross and pervasive divine rights violations. “Life, liberty and the pursuit of

happiness” are far from what we deserve.


loved, what would that do? Love cannot be legislated. Even at the individual level, the religion of human

rights can at best make someone tolerant. In its fullest flowering, it can make someone respectful of others, someone who does not step on other people’s toes. At worst, it can feed bitterness: if I have been wronged, what do I do but comfort myself with the knowledge that I did not deserve it, and hope that a powerful enough human government will one day crack down on the offender? Resources for forgiveness are slim within human rights.

But the freely given love of God to us, when we deserved none of it, bursts in like a flood into our broken hearts, with its torrents reworking all the twisted streams and channels of our thoughts and emotions, down to the very core of our being, driving out fear, drowning pride, flooding the bottomless chasm that longs to know that we are worth something so that we overflow with love for others. Having been forgiven so much, how could we not love God? And how could we refuse someone forgiveness? God’s love transforms us, reconciling us to him and to one another. “Just as I have loved you,” Jesus tells his followers, “so you also are to love one another.”xiv

So why settle for less? Human rights is useful in some ways. It provides at least some foundation for justice on a global scale, and that is not a negligible good. But the working belief that we are the only gods the universe has, that justice has nothing higher to appeal to than human dignity, and that we deserve what we have (and probably more), pales in comparison to Christianity. Human rights offers at best tolerance, with a shaky foundation for justice; Christianity gives justice a rock-solid foundation and at the same time surprises us with overwhelming love and compassion. God did not merely tolerate tolerable people. He loved us when we were thoroughly intolerable, and gave us his very self, that we might be his beloved children.

i. “History of the Document,” The United Nations, accessed 7 July 2015, <http://www.un.org/en/docments/udhr/history.shtml>.ii. “The Universal Declaration of Human Rights,” The United Nations, accessed 7 July 2015, <http://www.un.org/en/documents/udhr/index.shtml>.iii. “History of the Document.”iv. “Universal Declaration.”v. Psalm 8:4-6 (ESV).vi. Psalm 29:2a (ESV).

vii. Psalm 95:1, 3-7a (ESV).viii. Luke 10:27 (ESV).ix. Psalm 51:1a, 3 (ESV).x. 2 Samuel 12:14 (ESV).xi. Romans 1:21-23 (ESV).xii. Romans 3:10b (ESV).xiii. John 3:16 (ESV).xiv. John 13:34 (ESV).

Andrew Zulker ’15 is from Barrington, RI. He graduated from Dartmouth in Spring 2015 with amajor in Linguistics and a minor in Hebrew.

Human rights offers at best tolerance, with a shaky foundation for justice; Christianity gives justice a rock-solid foundation and at the same time surprises us with overwhelming love and compassion.


Conscience, at least in its modern usage, has become somewhat of an empty term. This confusion about the epistemological ground

for morality is often rooted in the public’s ignorance about the nature of morality itself. While most people believe in some sense of right and wrong, they may not understand why these values are constructed this way. In many ways, this reality is a product of our modern education system. In a New York Times column, philosopher Justin McBrayer observed the various practices of public schools across the United States. He lamented “that the overwhelming majority of college freshmen in their classrooms view moral claims as mere opinions that are not true or are true only relative to a culture.”i McBrayer traces this attitude to the way that public schools distinguish between fact and opinion within their curriculum. The curriculum

describes facts as provable statements and opinions as unprovable statements, implicitly assuming that opinions exist merely as constructions within the mind and have no bearing on reality. When asked to categorize statements as fact or opinion, students were encouraged to categorize historical, scientific, or mathematical statements as “fact.” On the other hand, when asked to categorize moral statements, students were encouraged to categorize them as “opinion.” The justification for this practice is surprisingly simple. Since many people struggle to definitively prove moral statements such as “stealing is wrong,” it therefore follows that moral statements must be relegated into the realm of opinion.

This confusion about the existence of moral values lends itself to confusion about how one can know moral values. For example, although most believe that

perspectives on conscience and the role of reason

From Gut FeelinGs to natural law

By Christopher Kymn


stealing is wrong, to substantively justify that moral claim without begging the question is often beyond the capability of most individuals. Most likely, the average person upon further questioning may justify their moral claims by a mere “gut feeling.” But this epistemological method is inherently subjective and vague. If people define moral beliefs as mere opinion, and lack a basis for understanding how their moral beliefs are grounded, they will mistakenly equivocate conscience with a gut feeling.

Having such an important question of moral epistemology consigned to such a subjective status neglects the intellectual tradition that believed otherwise. A proper understanding of conscience requires an appeal to natural law theory, an ethical framework grounded in Aristotelian metaphysics. Unlike modern conceptions of conscience, natural law views conscience as a powerful tool capable of discerning objective moral statements. In addition,

understanding conscience within the Christian framework rectifies many of the problems that emerge when a natural law understanding of conscience is applied to observations that seemingly disprove its universality.

Still, there is no doubt that many influential academics have held the view that moral epistemology is meaningless. Several philosophers have raised arguments against the discoverability of moral values. J.L. Mackie, in his 1977 work Ethics: Inventing Right and Wrong, raised the argument from queerness as an indictment of the ability to know any moral truths. He thought that moral facts were unique: unlike other facts, they have intrinsically prescriptive properties – properties that motivated people to act according to those facts. Thus he defined objective moral values as “entities or qualities or relations of a very strange sort, utterly different from anything else in the universe.”ii He then cast doubt upon the ability to understand these utterly strange entities by positing that “if we were aware of them, it would have to be by some special faculty of moral perception or intuition, utterly different

from our ordinary ways of knowing everything else.”iii Because Mackie believed that intuition was unreliable, he advocated for a view called error theory, which argues that all moral statements are false. By extension, he casted doubt upon the ability to access truth-apt moral facts.

Jean-Paul Sartre, in his 1946 book Existentialism is a Humanism, focused on the unreliability of intuition when questioning the human ability to understand any higher order moral law. He criticized the “gut feeling” that many feel when making moral judgments by asking, “if I hear voices, who can prove that they proceed from heaven and not from hell, or from my own subconsciousness or some pathological condition?”iv The argument highlights the inherent unreliability of a “gut feeling” and casts doubt upon the human capacity to discern where that gut feeling comes from. Since there is no way for humans to determine the source,

Most likely, the average person upon further questioning may justify their moral claims by a mere “gut feeling.” But this epistemological method is inherently subjective and vague. If people define moral beliefs as mere opinion, and lack a basis for understanding how their moral beliefs are grounded, they will mistakenly equivocate conscience with a gut feeling.

Jean Paul Sartre, 1965


let alone the reliability of their gut feeling, then there is no way to conclusively determine what is morally right or wrong.

As it turns out, the problems Mackie and Sartre wrote about were the product of a much larger dilemma in ethics. In his book After Virtue, Alasdair MacIntyre notes the growing popularity of emotivism, a philosophical theory that denies the idea that moral statements are more than expressions of opinion. MacIntyre traces emotivism as the natural successor of Enlightenment philosophy, who largely based their conceptions of morality away from factual premises. He writes:

This change of character, resulting from the disappearance of any connection between the precepts of morality and the facts of human nature already appears in the writings of the eighteenth-century moral philosophers themselves. For although each of the writers we have been concerned with attempted in his positive arguments to base morality on human nature, each in his negative arguments

moved toward a more and more unrestricted version of the claim that no valid argument can move from entirely factual premises to any moral or evaluative conclusion-to a principle, that is, which once it is accepted, constitutes an epitaph to their entire project.v

Since Enlightenment theorists did not ground their ethical theories back to factual premises concerning human persons, it followed that their reasoning incited conclusions leaning towards emotivism. As Sartre pointed out, such conceptions provided no essential connection to the human person that lent a compelling reason to follow a moral rule. Furthermore, since philosophy in this sense was conceived as detached from features of persons, there was little room for persons to do anything except express their opinions.

Nevertheless, there is a way to accept some truth in the argument from queerness while still denying its skeptical conclusion. The emotivist’s reasoning falls prey to the same issue Enlightenment philosophy did, since it mistakenly separates is claims from ought claims. The solution, according to MacIntyre, is a re-adoption of the traditional Aristotelian ethical framework known as natural law.

The first principle of natural law is that an object

can be described and identified by observing its essential features. By observing these necessary features within the context of the whole, one can determine the form of the object – what the thing is. This practice of deriving a general identity from individual properties is not only intuitive, but also something that humans do subconsciously through the use of categories and norms. Natural law further posits that what is considered good is inextricably connected to some necessary feature of the object it describes. Philosopher Edward Feser illustrated the principles of natural law by differentiating between natural goodness and moral goodness. Using the example of a triangle, he wrote that we would call a triangle “good” if it were a “closed planar figure with three straight sides,” and a “bad” or defective triangle if it was drawn messily on a crumpled piece of paper.vi The properties for a triangle perfectly drawn can also be said to describe a well-formed triangle, and a triangle with an open end and squiggly lines would be considered a bad-formed triangle in light of its malformation. The form of living

The problems Mackie and Sartre wrote about were the product of a much larger dilemma in ethics. In his book After Virtue, Alasdair MacIntyre traces

emotivism as the natural successor of Enlightenment philosophy, who largely based their conceptions of morality away from factual premises.

Alasdair MacIntyre by Sean O’Connor, 2009


things, while harder to derive, is nevertheless grounded in universal principles. The form that living things encapsulate are necessarily tied to ends that must be realized in order for the living thing to flourish.vii For instance, such activities consist of health and wellness, development, reproduction, and fitness. For example, a tree could be called a good tree if it had healthy, strong roots, while a bad tree would be one that is struck by illness.

While humans have these basal ends in common with other living beings, they also have the capacity

to reason and deliberate. Not only does this mean that humans have higher order ends that exist in virtue of the ability to reason, but it also implies that as rational creatures, humans also have the ability to volitionally act towards these ends.viii It is in light of this choice that the transformation between natural goodness and moral goodness begins to arise. Although a fish may only be acting according to natural instinct, humans have the ability to choose amongst different desires and act upon their choices. This form of reasoning enriches the meaning of what it means to flourish as a species and modifies the kinds of ends persons can aim to pursue. But it also means that as a free-willed species, we are morally culpable for our actions if our choices do not line up with our ends. In this sense, natural law provides an objective way to decide morality that avoids the argument from queerness, since it is based on properties inherent to an object that anyone would be able to recognize. This means that moral facts are not “queer” at all, since “the facts in question are, as it were, inherently laden with ‘value’ from the start.”ix Our motivations to pursue such goodness do not come from subjective value judgments but rather from internal inclinations that exist within our nature.

This ability to deliberate between desires and pursue goodness, when correctly developed, is our moral law or conscience. The natural law view has the particular benefit of avoiding Sartre’s claim that God’s will could only be known through some supernatural voice. Feser rejects this view of God and morality as a caricature. Instead, according to the natural law view, “[w]hat is good for us is good because of our nature and not because of some arbitrary divine command, and God only ever wills for us to do what is consistent with our nature. But that doesn’t make the standard according

Humans have the ability to choose amongst different desires and act upon their choices. This form of reasoning enriches the meaning of what it means to flourish as a species and modifies the kinds of ends persons can aim to pursue. But it also means that as a free-willed species, we are morally culpable for our actions if our choices do not line up with our ends.

St. Thomas Aquinas by Carlo Crivelli, 15th century


a goal of the mouse, since it is constitutive of self-preservation, but clearly this goal is not guaranteed. The important takeaway is that the empirical failure to achieve an end is not a reason for why the end is not worth achieving. The mouse should aim to obtain food even if it does not always succeed.

Second, reason does not equal omniscience. While the premises of natural law are straightforward, its applications to particular situations are more complicated. This is where conscience comes in as the heuristic to decide in unfamiliar or difficult situations. Nevertheless, there are many ways that humans could get their decisions wrong. If people lack information, they may misapply or misunderstand some principle of reason, as what often happens when inexperienced students tackle a difficult math problem. In the same way, moral difficulties can arise due to problems with ignorance, not with reason itself.

There are still people that fail to realize their natural ends because they outright refuse to do so, instead of being unable to do so. St. Thomas Aquinas acknowledged this problem, and so proposed that people can fall prey to external incentives outside of moral law. Why people would even consider these external incentives is something that Aquinas presents in this passage in the Summa Theologica:

Consequently we must say that the natural law, as to general principles, is the same for all, both as to rectitude and as to knowledge. But as to certain matters of detail, which are conclusions, as it were, of those general principles, it is the same for all in the majority of cases, both as

to which he wills something existing independently of him, because what determines that standard are the ideas existing in the divine mind.”x If God’s standards of goodness are built into creation, and if creation is a reflection of God’s perfect nature, then God can only desire that which is consistent with our nature. This is a far cry from the modern view of arbitrary divine command, which unnecessarily separates morality from the world by externalizing morality in the form of God’s “voice.” The move to natural law does not seek to eradicate all forms of Enlightenment reasoning altogether; rather, it is intended as a repair. Natural law points reason to the telos (ultimate aim) of humanity, such that that telos itself provides the motivation to achieve a given end.

If it is true that morality is a rational application of truths about the natural world, and that conscience is the use of reason to act out these truths, then the question remains as to why humanity as a whole seems to ignore their conscience when making moral decisions. The claim that humans are rational creatures may seem odd to the average person, who takes it for granted that not all humans act rationally.

Part of this objection is based on a misunderstanding of natural law’s implications. First, aiming towards a certain end does not constitute fulfillment of that end. Consider a mouse that runs across the room to grab a piece of food, only to be scared away by a cat before attaining it. The obtaining of food would be considered

The School of Athens by Raphael, c. 1509

The Conscience by François Chifflart, 1877


to rectitude and as to knowledge; and yet in some few cases it may fail, both as to rectitude, by reason of certain obstacles (just as natures subject to generation and corruption fail in some few cases on account

of some obstacle), and as to knowledge, since in some the reason is perverted by passion, or evil habit, or an evil disposition of nature; thus formerly, theft, although it is expressly contrary to the natural law, was not considered wrong among the Germans, as Julius Caesar relates (De Bello Gall. vi).xi

Understanding the difficulty of adhering to natural law is only possible when natural law is integrated within the Christian framework. Christianity provides a means to understand the problem of imperfect conscience because its doctrine holds to the idea of original sin – the idea that mankind from the start has been compromised by sin and is prevented from acting perfectly morally. At the same time, Christianity also points to a

solution to that problem. The teachings of Christ relieve us from the burden of having to derive all morality from reason ourselves, such that we are able to go out and live a moral life. Most importantly, Christianity properly identifies the ultimate good

that constitutes a virtuous life, mainly an intimate and dynamic relationship with God. Therefore, Christianity not only aids us in our applications of conscience but also builds upon that foundation. While rationality helps us understand how to live a moral life, our human limitations prevent us from using reason to reach the ideal. Christianity aims us to become more like Christ, and by doing so we are able to find ways to overcome original sin and live a fulfilled and virtuous life.

C.S. Lewis, in his short essay “Man or Rabbit?” answers whether it is possible to live a good life without believing in Christianity. He presents two arguments against this possibility; first that it is unfeasible, and second that it misses the point.xii While Christianity and secular philosophy may

Most importantly, Christianity properly identifies the ultimate good that constitutes a virtuous life, mainly an intimate and dynamic relationship with God. Therefore, Christianity not only aids us in our applications of conscience but also builds upon that foundation.

Paradise by Lucas Cranach the Elder, 1530


reach the same conclusions on some moral issues, such as duties of beneficence, Christianity posits a different account of the universe that enriches the secular account, reorienting goodness beyond worldly matters. Good acts are a means of getting closer to God, and such purpose is what truly matters in the end. While conscience is a cornerstone of religious faith, it is incomplete when nurtured only from the standpoint of practical reasoning. Only when conscience is pointed towards God can it achieve its full meaning.

i. Justin McBrayer, “Why Our Children Don’t Think There Are Moral Facts,” New York Times, 2 March 2015, <http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/03/02/why-our-children-dont-think-there-are-moral-facts/?_r=0>.ii. J.L. Mackie, Ethics: Inventing Right and Wrong (London: Penguin Books, 1991), 24.iii. Mackie, 24.iv. Jean-Paul Sartre, “Existentialism is a Humanism,” Meridian Publishing Company, 1989, <https://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/sartre/works/exist/sartre.htm>.v. Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory (Notre Dame: Notre Dame, 1981), 56.vi. Edward Feser, Aquinas: A Beginner’s Guide (England: Oneworld, 2011), 176.vii. Feser, 177.viii. Feser, 185.ix. Feser, 178.x. Feser, 183.xi. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica 1-2. 94. 4. <http://www.newadvent.org/summa/2094.htm#article4>.xii. C.S. Lewis, God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics (United Kingdom: Eerdmans, 1970), 112.

Christopher Kymn ’18 is from Los Angeles, CA. He is a prospective major in Computer Science.

The Fall of Man by Cornelis van Haarlem, 1592


Preserving Works of Love:By Emmanuel Hui

A Literature Survey of the Kierkegaardian Concept of “Neighbor Love”

Parable of the Good Samaritan by Jan Wijnants, 1670


In Works of Love, Søren Kierkegaard, widely considered the father of existentialism, distinguishes between ‘preferential love’ and

‘neighbor love’ in the context of the biblical mandate to “love thy neighbor as thyself.”i He insists that in order for ‘neighbor love’ to be truly fulfilled, one is obligated to deny self and forego all preferences. This controversial claim has been the subject of extensive academic debate, since preferential love is such an inherent human experience – it’s naturally validated for a father to prefer his child’s life to that of his child’s kidnapper.

One academic perspective suggests that Works of Love requires proper interpretation in order to understand that preferential love is included within Kierkegaard’s realm of neighbor love – a viewpoint held by M. Jamie Ferreira and John Lippit. Contrarily, some scholars such as Sharon Krishek and Gene Fendt argue that it lacks intellectual integrity to write off the blatant conclusions in Works of Love as mere misinterpretations. Rather, Works of Love is basally erred and a characterization of the extreme, since Kierkegaard likes to write under pseudonyms in order to think as different characters. They espouse that to truly understand Kierkegaard’s message, Works of Love must not be read as a standalone piece, but in complement with Kierkegaard’s other works, taking the attributed author “Søren Kierkegaard” to represent another character and not Kierkegaard himself.

In the following analysis, the contested issues in Works of Love will be examined first, followed by the

two hermeneutical sides of argument. Subsequently, both exegeses will be rejected in support of a third view that takes Works of Love as neither erred nor needing of interpretation. There is no mistake in Kierkegaard’s objection to preferential love, which is a necessary position to maintain in order to illuminate the Lutheran notion of man’s finitude, a stance held by scholars such as Paul Müller and Amy Hall. Only by this interpretation do Kierkegaard’s radical statements and the strange authorship of Works of Love find full cohesion.

Kierkegaard maintained that Christ’s life, death, and resurrection was God’s primary ‘work of love’ for humanity, and only through the work of Christ can genuine love be understood. Given the command to love thy neighbor as thyself, Kierkegaard says, “Only by loving God above all else can one love the neighbor (and oneself ),” because God is love.ii How then does

one love God? Just as Christ sacrificed himself, “only in self-denial can one hold fast to God,” answers Kierkegaard.iii Further, perfect self-denial is a state in which “the distinction ‘mine and yours’ disappears,” until one becomes selfless, “transparent,” and “as nothing” before God, i.e., a piece of clay in a potter’s hand yet to be formed.iv

This concept of transparency is central in order to convey God as the author of all works of love, and not the human actors who are merely used by God to realize his love.v Thus, Kierkegaard establishes self-denial as the sole modality capable of arriving at transparency in order to transfer God’s love, for the sake of fulfilling the mandate to love thy neighbor. Furthermore, “Christianity has made it eternally impossible to mistake him,” says Kierkegaard, “the neighbor, to be sure, is all people.”vi Thus, antipodal to self-denial is self-affirmation, realized as the selfish sin to preferentially love some people instead of all people.vii Ergo, all works of preferential love, be they erotic or fraternal, are rejected by Kierkegaard as violations of the divine mandate.

Kierkegaard’s profession of self-denial and transparency also plays into the authorship and categorization of Works of Love, which is a subject of heavy debate. Kierkegaard acknowledged that in order for his book to be a work of love in itself, he had to actively remove himself from the position of author so that God’s authorship may come through.viii However, he remains the medium, the physical pen which God utilizes to write, and so he helms the role of the

messenger, or, for lack of a better word, “author.” To convey the removal of self, Kierkegaard used dashes to emphasize points of excisions of his ego from parts of the text.ix As such, the signature of Søren Kierkegaard to Works of Love should be properly understood as a form of “second authorship,” by which Kierkegaard is neither fully speaking as himself as in his sermonic Upbuilding Discourses (first authorship), nor posited as an entirely pseudonymous character with an established viewpoint (third authorship). Moreover, Kierkegaard opens Works of Love by categorizing it as a work of “deliberation,” a term he defines in his journals as a work with maieutic intent to “rightly set all the elements into motion.”x Thus the authorship and style of Works of Love indicate that its intent is not to preach truth to readers, but to present content that goes into considerations of love, to thus allow readers to arrive at their own conclusions.

Perfect self-denial is a state in which “the distinction ‘mine and yours’ disappears,” until one becomes selfless, “transparent”, and

“as nothing” before God.


The first scholastic view holds that self-denial and the rejection of preferential love are misread conclusions to Works of Love. Instead, M. Jamie Ferreira claims that, “Kierkegaard’s assertions against preferential love should be interpreted as attesting to his concern with equality and not as a manifestation of his rejection of preferential love.”xi Arriving at this claim requires the presupposition that ought implies can. Ferreira argues that God would not command what cannot be done, and if the command to love thy neighbor were taken to be unconditional and universal in scope, we would be tasked with the impossibility of

helping everyone, everywhere, at the same time, and with the same resources.xii

The absurdity of this commandment renders it void unless, Ferreira suggests, the meaning of neighbor love is repositioned from ‘helping everyone’ to ‘not excluding anyone’.xiii The burden of responsibility to love is thus not placed on the lover to go out and actively love people, but on the beloved to declare the level of desired inclusion. Indeed, in a case of the stranger in physical distress, a Samaritan’s love for neighbor will address the stranger’s distinctive needs,

but it would also not have the same tenderness that would be shown to an intimate preferential relation. In fact, it would be unloving and uncalled for to express love to the stranger at an undesired level of intimacy, and it would be unloving of the stranger to request such intimacy from the Samaritan (remember that the stranger too is held to the commandment to love his neighbor).

As such, Ferreira axiomatizes Kierkegaard’s notion of neighbor love to mean “we are commanded not to let the lack of preference militate against the other’s equality as a child of God.”xiv Lippit adds to this by observing, “it is surely implausible to think that for Kierkegaard my love for God should be identical to my love for my annoying upstairs neighbour. The object itself makes a difference to the nature of the love.” The expression of neighbor love is instead a matter of weighing the different natures of loves through what Lippit calls a “God Filter.” For instance: Does my love for Sylvie merely serve my selfish desires? Does my friendship with Joe require me to act in a way that I know to be inconsistent with good?xv

This God Filter thereby places everyone in perspective of the Kierkegaardian self-denying love that wants to appreciate the agent’s needs, but avoids approving the kind of need that renders the other instrumental for satisfaction. Yet, self-denial does not degrade into self-deprivation since the “as thyself ” phrase of the commandment is an important qualifier of what it means to love others, which starts by loving yourself in the right way.xvi To love yourself in the right way is to recognize the value and love that God has for you, and with that understanding, to love God in return and to see one’s neighbor as equally loved by God. Thus, self-denial is paradoxically the best way to love oneself, God, and the neighbor – upholding Ferreira’s claim that “there is only one true love, one kind of love, and that love is expressed. Be it for neighbor or

lover, it is the same love that is expressed.”xvii

Opposing the previous hermeneutical approach to Works of Love, the second school of thought claims that Kierkegaard should be interpreted only for what has been clearly elucidated. Fendt questions how many readers would actually be able to do such scholastic acrobatics with Works of Love alone and if Kierkegaard meant it to be read that way.xviii More eloquently, Krishek concurs that Works of Love should be taken as written, and insists that while the “author’s” conclusions are inadequate, they must be posited against Kierkegaard’s

Portrait of Martin Luther by Lucas Cranach the Elder, 1528

To love yourself in the right way is to recognize the value and love that God has for you, and with that understanding, to love God in return and to see one’s neighbor as equally loved by God.


others works in order to understand the truth that he meant to convey (just as how Either/Or, Fear and Trembling, and Stages of Life’s Way must be examined

together to understand Kierkegaard’s realms of the aesthetic, ethical, and religious).

Firstly, while Kierkegaard was right to think that self-affirmation is intrinsically preferential, Krishek says he neglects that preferential love also involves self-denial. In many romantic loves, the lover often denies self-interest for the sake of the beloved. In reverse, neighbor love can also involve an element of self-affirmation, for it is natural to feel a sense of joy and satisfaction in helping one’s neighbor.xix Krishek also criticizes the apologies of Ferreira and Lippit, as they fail to explain why preference is developed between peoples in the first place. They also fail to address how self-affirmation and self-denial of love fit equally under ‘neighbor love’ in lieu of Kierkegaard’s distinctly tiered valuation of preferential and neighbor love.xx

To solve these quandaries and reclaim Works of Love, Krishek suggests that what Kierkegaard meant to convey must be thought of in relation to Fear and Trembling. Where Fear and Trembling is primarily concerned with the issue of faith, Krishek considers faith as synonymous to love (since faith may be thought of as one’s love for God). In Fear and Trembling, faith is described as containing elements of resignation (self-denial) and repetition. Krishek argues that Works of Love correctly recognizes resignation – one’s duty to deny oneself and treat one’s neighbor as an equal; what it misses is repetition – “the ability to find joy and hope and meaning in finitude, against the background of releasing – of renouncing or denying – the hold on it.”xxi In the context of Works of Love, Krishek argues preferential loves are the clearest manifestation of repetition as they affirm our relation to finitude.xxii God also respects our finitude, as shown in his allowance of Abraham’s preference for Isaac. Only through this dialectical dance of resignation and repetition can love be fully understood. Accordingly, a full account of what Kierkegaard means for love that is complete must see room for both self-denial and self-affirmation.

Moving on to the third and most veracious view, Works of Love is to be read and interpreted verbatim, as intended by Kierkegaard. First of all, it does not make sense that the “second authorship” method removes Kierkegaard from ownership of the conclusions in Works of Love, for if it did, then Works of Love might

as well have been written pseudonymously. Rather, as Paul Müller suggests, Kierkegaard stands behind what he writes, but ‘makes himself nothing’ as he struggles

towards self-renunciation, which is at the heart of Works of Love. Neighbor love is not something that human beings can fully conceive, which explains why academia has such a hard time accepting Works of Love and tries to salvage preferential love. It would perhaps be best to let Kierkegaard position himself on this matter, as is written in his journal pages:

Johannes Climacus places himself so low that he even says that he himself is not a Christian, one seems to be able to detect in Anti-Climacus that he considers himself to be a Christian on an extraordinarily high level…. I would place myself higher than Johannes Climacus, lower than Anti-Climacus. (JP 6:6433)xxiii

There is no doubt that Kierkegaard meant what he says in Works of Love, but it still doesn’t qualify as a first-

Søren Kierkegaard at his High Desk by Luplau Janssen, c. 19th century

Firstly, while Kierkegaard was right to think that self-affirmation is intrinsically preferential, Krishek says he neglects that preferential

love also involves self-denial.


author piece due to its maieutic, self-effacing qualities, and reconstrual of love in negative illumination of his pseudonymous characters. Therefore, Works of Love is not written to nicely orient preferential love in the framework of neighbor love as interpreted by

Ferreira and Lippit, but its very rhetorical momentum is indeed to disorient the reader. As suggested by Amy Hall, Kierkegaard had designed Works of Love to drive home Luther’s recognition of humanity inability to fulfill biblical law, but simultaneous

responsibility to keep striving towards it.xxiv Using previously discussed terms, ought does not imply can for Kierkegaard, which perfectly encapsulates the conundrum of authorship surrounding Works of Love. Kierkegaard believes that neighbor love ought to be

the only correct form of love, which is compatible with his authorship, but in the spirit of self-denial and recognition of his hypocrisy and finitude, he separates himself from the narrator to allow God’s facts of love to come through and compel the reader to love

Kierkegaard had designed Works of Love to drive home Luther’s recognition of humanity inability to fulfill biblical law, but simultaneous responsibility to keep striving towards it.

The Raising of Lazarus by Duccio, 1310–11


neighborly despite its confusing impossibility. Indeed, when examining the New Testament on this matter, Jesus is strikingly unforgiving against preference to the point of denying his own parentage and forbidding disciples from revisiting their families.xxv Although some may point to Jesus’ weeping for Lazarus and selection of disciples as evidence of preference, they misapprehend the assignment of responsibility from love, e.g., a father who refuses to give his reckless 18-year-old son a car but gladly gives his responsible 16-year-old son a car does not definitively prefer or love one son more than the other. Ultimately, Jesus’ final act of dying on the cross for literally everybody, from the “disciple whom he loved” to the Pharisees whom he seemingly unpreferentially called “a brood of vipers,” is the fundamental example of neighbor love that Kierkegaard implores in Works of Love for us and himself to emulate.xxvi

While scholars have long been troubled by the ethos of Works of Love, its pathos and logos are immutably firm such that any apologetic interpretation or reclamation of it would be a complete aberration. Preferential and neighbor are not a singular love as suggested by Krishek, and Works of Love is not a colored presentation of love that needs to be qualified. Kierkegaard was fully aware of the impossibility of perfect neighbor love, which is part of the reason why he employed the “second authorship.” Moreover, it may be helpful to consider how Jesus too made similar statements, such as in Matthew 5 where he advises people to cut off their right hand if it leads them to sin. The absurdity or impossibility of the act doesn’t diminish its purpose; likewise, Works of Love is not an explicit how-to guide. Instead it is a “deliberation” designed to inform the reader of the cruciality of neighbor love and to prompt the reader towards the Lutheran notion to “seek and beseech the grace of obedience, and receive it continually.”xxvii

i. William McDonald, “Søren Kierkegaard”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. Edward N. Zalta, 21 December 2014, <http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2014/entries/kierkegaard/>; Mark 12:31 (NIV).ii. Søren Kierkegaard, Works of Love, trans. Howard V. Hong (New York: HarperPerennial, 2009), 57-58.iii. Kierkegaard, 363.iv. Kierkegaard, 26; Jeremiah 18:6 (NIV).v. William McDonald, “Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)” The Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, May 28, 2015, <http://www.iep.utm.edu/kierkega/#SH4a>.vi. Kierkegaard, 51-52.

vii. Ronald L. Hall, “Sharon Krishek: Kierkegaard on Faith and Love,” International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 67, no. 2 (2010): 114.viii. McDonald, Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)ix. McDonald, Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)x. Mark Stapp, “Kierkegaard’s Work of Love” (PhD diss., University of Chicago, 2009), 11.xi. John Lippitt and George Pattison, The Oxford Handbook of Kierkegaard (Oxford, U.K.: Oxford University Press, 2013), 338-340.xii. M. Jamie Ferreira, Love’s Grateful Striving: A Commentary on Kierkegaard’s Works of Love (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 40; Lippitt and Pattison, 338-340.xiii. Lippitt and Pattison, 338-340.xiv. Ferreira, 251.xv. John Lippitt, “Kierkegaard and the problem of special relationships: Ferreira, Krishek and the ‘God filter’,” International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 72, no. 3 (2012): 191.xvi. Lippitt and Pattison, 338-340.xvii. Ferreira, 203.xviii. Stapp, 26-27.xix. Sharon Krishek, Kierkegaard on Faith and Love (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 152-153.xx. Hall, 114.xxi. Hall, 114.xxii. Krishek, 123.xxiii. Jan E. Evans, Unamuno and Kierkegaard: Paths to Selfhood in Fiction (Lanham, Md.: Lexington Books, 2005), 42.; Johannes Climacus is one of the pseudonyms employed Kierkegaard to exprees non-Christian, sola logica perspecties, whereas Anti-Climacus is the antipodous super-Christian character.xxiv. Amy Laura Hall, Kierkegaard and the Treachery of Love (Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 46-47.xxv. Matthew 12:49; Luke 9:57-62 (NIV).xxvi. John 20:2; Matthew 23:33 (NIV).xxvii. John Nicholas Lenker, Luther’s Catechetical Writings: God’s Call to Repentance, Faith and Prayer (Minneapolis, Minnesota: The Luther Press, 1907), 107.

Emmanuel Hui ’17 is from Hong Kong. He is a double major in Religion and Biology.


The Book of Enoch Greek Manuscript, 4th century

Interpreting Inspiration: Linking God, Mankind, and the Written Word

By Matthew West


What do Christians mean when they say that the Bible is inspired? Inspiration in a theological sense is not equivalent to

the inspiration a musician or a painter might feel to produce art. Theologians hold a variety of beliefs about its specific nature and mechanism, but most agree that inspiration involves God’s communicating to a human an impetus to write some message beneficial to believers in the future. The inclusion in the Bible of quotations from extra-biblical texts poses an explanatory challenge to the theology of inspiration. For example, the book of Jude in the New Testament includes a quotation attributed to Enoch, one of the earliest patriarchs in the book of Genesis: “It was also about these that Enoch, the seventh from Adam, prophesied, saying, ‘Behold, the Lord comes with ten thousands of his holy ones, to execute judgment on all and to convict all the ungodly of all their deeds of ungodliness that they have committed in such an ungodly way, and of all the harsh things that ungodly sinners have spoken against him.’”i This passage either directly quotes or accurately paraphrases The Book of Enoch, a work of Jewish literature likely from the inter-testamental period, a 600-year gap between the completion of the Old Testament and the writing of the New Testament.ii Jude, however, attributes the quotation to Enoch himself, presenting a problem that a consistent theology of inspiration must resolve: any proposed model must account for quotations from witnesses deemed unreliable inside inspired writing.One candidate is thought inspiration, wherein God

communicates thoughts to human authors through primarily non-verbal communication, then those people, with guidance from the Holy Spirit, choose words with which to express God’s thoughts.

To establish a definition of inspiration which can account for extra-biblical occurrences, we first define the general criteria which a theology of inspiration must fit, then narrow the definition by showing what inspiration is not. The theology of inspiration is properly understood in relation to the theology of revelation, the self-communication of God to humanity. The Bible depicts various forms of divine revelation: a direct audible voice, prophetic dreams, miracles, and subtle prompting from the Holy Spirit. Christians believe that God uses these methods to communicate truth about himself and the world to believers. Inspiration must be distinguished from revelation, to show how

God’s communication concerning himself is written down in human language for future believers.iii

Inspiration, as distinct from revelation, refers to the specific impulse given by the Holy Spirit along with an experiential revelation to write their

experience or the message they received for the benefit of God’s people in the present or future.iv The results of inspiration communicate information from and about God, both propositional and narrative. For instance, the Pentateuch contains doctrinal statements, civil laws, moral laws, and narrative elements like the story of Abraham.v Jesus said that the Old Testament scriptures “bear witness about me.”vi Paul wrote to Timothy that “[a]ll Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness.”vii The “Scripture” of which Paul speaks refers to the inspired writings of the Old Testament, identifying their purpose and utility for the people of God at a time long after they were written, thus demonstrating that they fulfill a major purpose of inspiration.viii

The theology of inspiration is closely linked to

… inspiration involves God’s communicating to a human an impetus to write some message beneficial to believers in the

future.

St. Paul of Tarsus by Rembrandt van Rijn, c. 1657


the question of canonicity, but the two questions are not the same in that inspired writing is not necessarily canonical. The existence of non-canonical, potentially inspired books is implied by scriptural mentions of other writings of prophets which are now lost. For example, 1 Chronicles 29:29 mentions the writings of Nathan the prophet and Gad the seer, both of which have been lost, though Nathan does appear in the Bible as a true prophet of God.ix Two primary models aim to explain the formation of canon. The community canon model defines the canon as the body of “a set of writings that are selected by the community as a standard.”x In the intrinsic canon model “the books of Scripture are not canonical based on the determination of the community, authority, or tradition, but rather based on the intrinsic merits of the books.”xi This model does not necessarily equate “inspired” and “canonical.” Rather, it positions inspiration as a prerequisite to canonicity in the intrinsic canon model, with the caveat that a book must also possess other characteristics to be considered canonical, such as application for later generations.

Inspiration is not merely a human record of an experience with the divine, but also a written record of the message received. That Christ himself used the Old Testament as authoritative (e.g. Matthew 4:4 cf. Deuteronomy 8:3, Matthew 9:13 cf. Hosea 6:6) demonstrates that it “does not merely witness to revelation as if a record of human responses to God’s revelation, and hence a human book.”xii Rather, the inspiration given from God is content-full: a word of God, not simply an encounter. This is seen in the experience of the prophet Samuel as a boy. When God called Samuel’s name, “The word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him,” despite his experiential encounter.xiii Later, “the Lord revealed himself to Samuel at Shiloh by the word of the Lord.” God’s self-communication in this case included a “word,” or message. Concerning the gospel, the topic of many of his epistles, Paul writes, “I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it; rather, I received

it by revelation from Jesus Christ.”xiv The revelation Paul received from Jesus Christ contained a message: the gospel which he would later communicate in his epistles. This shows that Paul’s writing did not merely record his response and reaction to a mystical experience. Rather, he communicated the message he had received.

With these clarifications of what inspiration is not, we can now turn to the question of what

inspiration is. The model suggested by Marie-Joseph Lagrange, a Catholic theologian of the Thomist school, “presents biblical inspiration as the special instance of collaboration between God and human writer: God acts as a primary author or the principal cause of the text, while the writer acts as its instrumental cause.”xv

In other words, God non-verbally communicates thoughts to authors. The authors then choose words to express the thoughts received from God. Peter described the process in his second epistle: “men spoke from God

Inspiration is not merely a human record of an experience with the divine, but also a written record of the message received.

The Infant Samuel at Prayer by Joshua Reynolds, c. 1776


as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.”xvi Peter’s inclusion of the phrase, “as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit” implies one additional role of God in the process of inspiration; the authors were guided by the Holy Spirit as they chose words.

The distinction of God as primary cause and author as instrumental cause can accommodate inspired work compiled by multiple authors. For example, the book of Proverbs was partly written by Solomon, partly a compilation of proverbs chosen by King Hezekiah’s men, and partly attributed to two other men: Agur and King Lemuel. To adapt Lagrange’s synthesis to this multi-author work, God as the principal cause of the text remains constant. The human writers and compilers, however, are all acting in response to God’s impetus. The response is to communicate ideas received from God. Some authors do so by collecting existing writings, judging them consistent with the message received from God.

Paul’s writing occasionally shows his awareness of the mechanics of inspiration where it explicitly attributes a specific statement to God or to his own judgment. In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul answers some questions from the church concerning marriage and the widowed. He writes, “To the married

I give this charge (not I, but the Lord): …”xvii Here he directly credits God as the source of this command. Several verses later, he writes the reverse: “To the rest I say (I, not the Lord) …”xviii Later in the chapter, he gives his opinion on an issue without having specific command: “Now concerning the betrothed, I have no command from the Lord, but I give my judgment as one who by the Lord’s mercy is trustworthy.”xix Paul’s recognition of when he was speaking otherwise than from a direct message from God reveals that he understood himself to be directly communicating a message from God in most of his writings, and that he felt a need to indicate when he was speaking from his own judgment.

How then does this theology of inspiration account for the inclusion of material from the Book of Enoch in Jude’s writings? Does Jude’s inclusion of an extra-biblical source act as an endorsement of that work? As before, God communicated the thoughts of the inspired work. This implies that the quote from the Book of Enoch does serve as endorsement of that particular section of the book, in that its record of Enoch’s speech, in that instance, matched the message Jude received to write. However, the citation of a small section does not serve as an endorsement of the entire

The distinction of God as primary cause and author as instrumental cause can accomodate inspired work compiled by

multiple authors.

King Solomon in Old Age by Gustave Doré, 1866

St. Jude Thadeus by Schelte a Bolswert, 17th century

] [46 • The Dartmouth Apologia • Fall 2014 ]

Matthew West ’17 is from Marysville, WA. He is a prospective major in Engineering Science modified with Computer Science.

book; rather, it indicates that the author found the book readily available and useful to communicate the thought they were to write.

The theology of inspiration is critical to the way Christians use the Bible for doctrine and practice. That the Bible is a message from God allows Christians to trust its truthfulness. More specifically, thought inspiration de-emphasizes the specific language of the Bible, thereby enabling Christians to consider a translation of the Bible the word of God. Since it is the message of the Bible that is believed to be inspired and not specific language, translation from one language into another does not decrease the authority of the text. While accurate translation work is critical and the original language can give additional insight into what was meant by the authors, Christians need not be versed in biblical languages to read inspired writing. In this way, the theology of thought inspiration enables Christians of all languages to read the inspired word of God.

i. Jude 1:14–15 (ESV).ii. Edward Mazich, “‘The Lord Will Come with His Holy Myriads’ An Investigation of the Linguistic Source of the Citation of 1 Enoch 1, 9 in Jude 14b–15.” Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche 94, no. 3-4 (2003): 276-281.iii. Philip Moller, “What Should They be Saying about Biblical Inspiration? A Note on the State of the Question.” Theological Studies 74, no. 3 (2013):

An Appreciation of Angels:

609.iv. Moller, “Biblical Inspiration”, 609.v. See Deuteronomy 6:4; Deuteronomy 24; Exodus 20; Genesis 12–25.vi. John 5:39 (ESV).vii. 2 Timothy 3:16 (NASB).viii. Wolfhart Pannenberg, “Theological Table Talk: On the Inspiration of Scripture.” Theology Today 54, no. 2 (1997): 212-215.ix. See 2 Samuel 7.x. John C. Peckham, “The Canon and Biblical Authority: A Critical Comparison of Two Models of Canonicity.” Trinity Journal 28, no. 2 (2007): 231.xi. Peckham, “Canon and Biblical Authority”, 234.xii. Norman Gulley, “Revelation-Inspiration Model of a Relational God.” Journal of the Adventist Theological Society 18, no. 2 (2007): 152–182.xiii. 1 Samuel 3:7 (ESV).xiv. Galatians 1:12 (NIV).xv. Moller, “Biblical Inspiration”, 619.xvi. 2 Peter 1:21 (ESV).xvii. 1 Corinthians 7:10 (ESV).xviii. 1 Corinthians 7:12 (ESV).xix. 1 Corinthians 7:25 (ESV).

The Gutenberg Bible by UB Kassel, 2012

Fall 2015 • The Dartmouth ApologiA • 47] [46 • The Dartmouth Apologia • Fall 2014

An Appreciation of Angels:

How Angelic Beings Inform the Christian Life

By Sara Holston

Song of the Angels by William Aldolph-Bouguereau, 1881


Angels are perhaps one of the most fascinating, compelling, reassuring, and at times frightening concepts for humanity. From

chubby, winged babies, to beautiful women with haloes, to heavenly knights with flaming swords, angels have been broadly and variably represented in popular culture for centuries. With the increasing popularity of occult and science fiction television shows like The Supernatural and Constantine, angels have burst into public view in a new way, this time drawing on traditional depictions of angels as powerful, but often emotionless and even robotic, soldiers for God. But how do we separate true, biblically founded information about angels from the stories and tropes that have developed throughout the years in popular

culture? And more importantly, what can we learn from doing so?

Angels are clearly significant to the Christian tradition; the word “angel” appears over 200 times in the Bible, and more often in the New Testament than the word “agape,” which refers to God’s perfect love for his creation, or the word we usually translate as “sin.”i From Genesis to Revelation, angels were and will be present at many of the most theologically significant events, from the fall, to Jesus’s birth and resurrection, to the end times, judgment, and the redemption of creation. Despite the frequent appearance or mention of angels, however, we do not have much information on them; the Bible focuses more on God and his relationship with mankind, and biblical teachings on angels do not necessarily provide obvious lessons for direct application to our daily lives. Instead, examining the scriptural references to angels can enrich our perception and understanding of the broader teachings of Christianity.

As one of the two types of hyper-intelligent beings in God’s creation, angels can be meaningfully compared and contrasted to humans, the other such creatures. This strengthens our appreciation for the Christian emphasis on mankind’s relationship with God and his purpose for us, while also providing us with an enhanced perspective on God’s character. Many believe that angels fulfill some of the roles for which God initially created mankind, adopting these responsibilities after man’s fall. As such, an improved understanding of the current role of angels can lend

new insight into our own purpose. Additionally, the most notable differences between humans and angels center on key tenets of the Christian tradition; angels are not created in God’s image, while man is; angels fall individually, while humans fell corporately; fallen angels do not receive forgiveness for sin, while fallen man does. In light of the Christian doctrines of redemption and belief in the afterlife, the role of angels provides a window into the capacity to which humans will one day be restored, offering glimpses into the character of God’s true creation, the nature of the end times, and the renewed world.

Historically, angels have been portrayed in a variety of different forms, from beautiful winged musicians to fierce, armored warriors. It is true that

in the Bible, angels may take human form in order to fulfill their roles as messengers, but they are also clearly described as spiritual beings existing in a disembodied form invisible to humans on the metaphysical plane,

The Annunciation by El Greco, c. 1590-1603

...angels can be meaningfully compared and contrasted to humans, the other such creatures. This strengthens our appreciation for the Christian emphasis on mankind’s relationship with God and his purpose for us, while also providing us with an enhanced perspective on God’s character.


watching over and protecting creation while serving as soldiers in God’s spiritual army.ii In artwork, angels are necessarily represented in a physical form, most often depicted as humanlike. While these symbolic images allow us to conceptualize angels in a form familiar and relatable to us, they fail to wholly accurately represent biblical angels. The illustrations do, however, draw from key truths about angels that offer insight into the significance of angels in Christian tradition.

While these portrayals may be incomplete, then, they do capture individual facets of angels’ characters and duties, and studying these various roles thus creates a more complete conceptualization of angels that can inform our understanding of our own roles in the universe.

One of the most common depictions of angels in Renaissance art is that of young men and women with wings and haloes, dressed in flowing robes and holding or playing musical instruments, images likely inspired by biblical accounts of angels worshipping and singing

praises to God.iii This is one of the primary roles that many angels serve; there is even a class of angels, the Seraphim, whose role seems to consist entirely of waiting on and worshipping God eternally.iv This offers a unique window into at least one aspect of the intended role of mankind as well; Christianity teaches that humans are created to be in relationship with God, spending time in his presence and worshipping him, as angels exemplify.

Angels are also frequently shown in both visual art and literature conveying messages to mankind, depictions that are also inspired by a true biblical role for angels.v The word “angel” itself means messenger; rather than a translation, the word “angel” is a transliteration of the ancient Greek word for “messenger.”vi Throughout the Bible, God sends angels to bear his messages and news of his actions and character across the globe. Similarly, Christianity believes that humans are intended to be God’s emissaries, spreading news of the gospel and otherwise demonstrating God’s love. Mankind can assume this role today, giving rise to Christian teachings on “bearing witness to God.” The fact that humans and angels share, to some extent, this duty to convey messages, as well as a design for worshipping God, bolsters claims that angels are fulfilling some of mankind’s original responsibilities, and that we can better understand our own purpose by comprehending angels’ natures and actions.

Today, many popular representations of angels portray them as soldiers and watchers for God, emphasizing their role in both fighting the forces of darkness and in protecting and observing humankind. The television shows The Supernatural and Constantine particularly embrace this conceptualization of angels. Yet their primary angelic characters are often remarkably humanlike; these figures can be jealous,

angry, or resentful, and at times they even turn against God’s plan and reject his orders while still remaining distinct from the fallen angels portrayed in the program. In these stories, angels function like supernatural, heavenly humans; some choose to side with evil and others serve in God’s army and carry out his orders, but many are gray characters.

The Bible, by contrast, always positions angels as creatures distinct from humans and from human brokenness. Though they can fall like man, angels do not suffer from a universal plight of fallenness in

While these portrayals may be incomplete, then, they do capture individual facets of angels’ characters and duties, and studying these various roles

thus creates a more complete conceptualization of angels that can inform our understanding of our own roles in the universe.

Archangel Michael by Guido Reni, c. 1636


the same way as man. Christianity teaches that man’s state of brokenness comes from what Christians call the fall or the Original Sin. God created humans to be communal, banding together in familial or civic units with a leader at the head. This leader’s responsibility is to care for, protect, and guide the people. Adam was the first head of the people in the Bible and thereby symbolically responsible for all the men and women who would come after. His fall led to the fall of all mankind. In contrast, angels do not have the same federal existence as man, and therefore each angel who falls does so without impacting other angels.vii While fallen angels may indeed experience envy, fury, or other corrupt emotions, angels who refrain from sinning remain righteous and unblemished, and do not exhibit the flaws and brokenness that popular culture often depicts them experiencing.

These disparities between popular portrayals of humanlike angels and the biblical depiction of real angels lend profound insight into Christianity’s teachings on the nature and role of humanity, as well as God’s character and relationship with us. The differences between fallen angels and fallen man raise the question of redemption and the true weight of the salvation at the core of Christianity; God chooses to offer forgiveness and absolution to humans, but not to angels.viii While mankind as a whole continues to struggle with brokenness as a result of the Fall of Adam, our federal head, angels either do not need redemption, as they are not fallen, or they do not receive it, for reasons known only to God. The remarkable gift of God’s forgiveness for mankind, then, demonstrates the weight of his great love for us and of the powerful relationship we, uniquely, have with him.ix The Bible states that “God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”x Notably, this grace is at least as awe-inspiring to angels as it is to humans; John M. Frame writes in his text on systematic theology, “I imagine that [the angels] are somewhat astounded that God would choose to save human weaklings rather than mighty angels.”xi The fact that God was willing to go to such lengths to redeem his fallen creation demonstrates his great love for humanity and for the wider universe.

Frame further notes that angels “look down, hoping to understand better, seeking to be taught. Amazingly, it is we, the church, who teach the angels. Paul preaches the gospel, so that ‘through the church the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known to the rules and authorities in the heavenly places.’”xii Thus, humans serve as an example for angels

as they watch what Frame refers to as the “drama of redemption” play out. This idea of angels observing humans is ancient, and drawn from descriptions of angels in early Genesis who were known as the Grigori, or the “Watchers.” Through the rest of the Bible, angels continue to be referenced as observing mankind.xiii Even in our popular culture, we emphasize the role of angels as observers of humanity, but we often imagine this as meaning they are reporting back to God on our actions and beliefs, or awaiting a time to deliver a message to us. Though this may be part of the purpose in their watching us, angels can also learn about God’s character and love by observing us in

Archangel Michael Hurls the Rebellious Angels into the Abyss by Luca Giordano, c. 1666


Sara Holston ’17 is from Wayne, PA. She is an English major.

order to understand why God forgives us and how his plan to redeem his creation is taking place.

Ultimately, this positioning of humans as examples for angels extends to place humans in a role of authority over angels. The fact that God made humans, and not angels, in his image, provides further powerful testament to the importance of humanity in God’s creation.xiv We are, according to Christianity, meant to be the image bearers of God around the world, to provide an example of God’s character for those watching, and to proclaim and carry out his will; the Bible states that mankind will ultimately have authority over angels when God’s plan for salvation is completed and his creation is restored.xv That this is part of God’s redeemed world suggests that it is part of our original purpose, and offers another example of the effect that better understanding angels and their current role has on illuminating our own purpose. Though “we are now, in a sense, lower than the angels, [as] Jesus was for a little while lower than the angels,” with the completion of God’s redemptive mission we are, like Jesus, “to be raised above the angels.”xvi

Indeed Christians believe that God’s plan for salvation is already well underway, and that, as the Bible says, angels are sent to serve, guide, and protect us as the drama of redemption unfolds.xvii

Significantly, God chooses to use angels to fulfill these roles, putting a personal face on the Christian conceptualization of God’s actions in the world. God does not exist alone in heaven, but interacts daily with angels who serve and worship him. Additionally, while he could, as Christians believe, use his formidable power to send messages and protect mankind in an impersonal way, God often chooses to send his angels instead, emphasizing the personal nature of Christian faith. So while angels remain relatively mysterious, with their positions understated in biblical stories in favor of foregrounding God and his relationship with humans, they are a significant and meaningful part of Christian theology. Understanding them as much as possible, therefore, enhances our appreciation of Christianity’s teachings.

i. John M. Frame, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Christian Belief (Phillipsburg, NJ: PR Publishing, 2013), 771; R.C. Sproul, Unseen Realities: Heaven, Hell, Angels and Demons (Glasgow, U.K.: Bell and Bain, 1982), 89.ii. Wayne Grudem, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine (Grand Rapids,

MI: Zondervan, 1994), 396-397.iii. Mark Haydu, Meditations on Vatican Art: Angels (Liguori, MO: Liguori Publications, 2014); Grudem, 398; 404.iv. Dr. A Nyland, Angels, Archangels and Angel Categories: What the Ancients Said (Mermaid Beach, Australia: Smith and Sterling Publishers, 2010), 29-34.v. Haydu, 29; 35; 87.vi. Nyland, 5. vii. Frame, 772.viii. Grudem, 402-403.ix. Grudem, 403.x. John 3:16-17 (ESV).xi. Frame, 774.xii. Frame, 774.xiii. Nyland, 13-21.xiv. Frame, 774.xv. See Hebrew 2:5-9; 1 Corinthians 6:3.xvi. Frame, 774.xvii. See Hebrews 1:14.

While he could, as Christians believe, use his formidable power to send messages and protect mankind in an impersonal way, God often chooses to send his angels instead, emphasizing the personal nature of Christian faith.


N.T. Wright’s 2008 book surprised by Hope attempts a massive feat, articulated on the front cover: “Rethinking Heaven,

the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church.”i To attempt this in one book alone is difficult; in 289 pages, near impossible. Yet Wright’s book lives up to the challenge, providing strong reasons for the church to

rethink these three topics. The book masterfully argues for a classical Christian view, clearly and profoundly articulating difficult concepts. Its explanation of the implications of the resurrection—new creation and renewal—works beautifully to restore the Christian message in its entirety, and what that means for today.

The most important topic Wright discusses is

SURPRISED BY

HOPE

a review of

n.t. wright’s

Durham Cathedral by Oliver-Bonjoch, 2010

By Josh Alexakos

Crucifixion of Jesus by Gustave Doré, 1866


the historical reality of the resurrection. This topic is the heart of the book in many ways, as he shows how a biblical and historical understanding of it radically reshapes our idea of heaven and the mission

of the church. Wright’s discussion of the resurrection begins midway through chapter three and takes up the entirety of chapter four. Wright establishes how the resurrection is partially derivative from Jewish thought, but also completely different, such that it

could not have been an idea that developed over a long period of time.ii The resurrection, Wright argues, means that historically, physically, and extraordinarily Jesus Christ rose from clear death to life. This does

not mean that he will rise someday in the future, as was common in Jewish thought at the time. Nor was it a “spiritual” resurrection, as the Gnostics would have believed. It was also clear that Jesus had not been in a coma and simply woke up, as many have argued for today. He died fully, and rose materially. Wright argues for this belief with historical, literary, and logical statements that need serious consideration by skeptics, noting that complete acceptance of the resurrection will require a change in worldview.iii

This not just problematic for non-believers—a proper knowledge of the resurrection’s repercussions creates a new vision and goal for the church. Wright notes that a resurrected Jesus means that heaven is not the “final destination,” or the end goal of all existence. Jesus’s resurrection ushers in the new creation.iv The new creation, the idea that the entire universe is being and will be made new, is fundamentally different from both the progressive optimism of the modern world and the escapist view of heaven.v Wright’s understanding of new creation aids him in dismantling the two views and showing why they are both incorrect.

Progressive optimism is likely the most prevailing view of the future today. The belief that science, technology, reason, and goodwill can lead us to a utopia is explicitly if not implicitly held by contemporary secular culture. Wright notes that this is a distortion of the Christian idea of new creation that ultimately cannot succeed because of the premise that humans can reach utopia by their own power.vi Wright criticizes this view for being ignorant of history, neglecting such horrors as the two world wars and the role that science and technology played in exponentially increasing the levels of destruction and death through weapons like the atomic bomb. In the end, any reliance on humanity to bring itself to utopia is naïve and struggles against the historical record.

The escapism inherent in many Christians’ (and non-Christians’) understanding of heaven is also

Wright notes that a resurrected Jesus means that heaven is not the “final destination,” or the end goal of all existence. Jesus’s

resurrection ushers in the new creation. The new creation, the idea that the entire universe is being and will be made new, is

fundamentally different from both the progressive optimism of the modern world and the escapist view of heaven.




caring for the environment, creating beautiful art, and loving other people. These three components make up the foundation of what Christianity essentially is – a new hope for a broken world.

N.T. Wright set out to complete no small task: redefining how Christians view heaven, the resurrection, and the mission of the church. His efforts were not in vain; Surprised by Hope could

incorrect, Wright contends. To view this world as a location of transition, a temporary home, is anti-biblical and has dangerous logical implications. For example, when the world is viewed as a waiting room of sorts, there is little concern for the ecological well-being of the planet. Rather, the biblical view is one of a good but corrupted world, one that can contain both beauty and tragedy.vii The entire point of God becoming human in the person of Jesus Christ is to redeem this world, and the way in which he comes proves that the world is good but fallen, not wholly wicked. If the world were completely evil, it would seem more logical that God would come as a conquering king. Instead, God comes down as a lowly carpenter, suffers a horrific death, and rises from the grave. Thus, the life, death, and resurrection of Christ are powerful statements rejecting the idea that the material world is intrinsically evil and irredeemable. So when Christians grasp a true view of their future, it becomes clear what the church’s mission is.

The resurrection is the event, and new creation is the idea. Together, they give the church renewal, the application. Renewal is the work of the church: to help restore the world from evil and usher in the new creation. The resurrection shows us how the events of Jesus’ life are not independent occasions that just give us more reasons to love him, but rather that they exemplify the church’s mission. Jesus “[taught] in their synagogues and [proclaimed] the gospel of the kingdom and [healed] every disease and every affliction among the people.”viii Christ intended these actions to be continued by the church. To show how, Wright gives three methods through which the church can renew God’s creation: promoting justice, honoring beauty, and properly evangelizing.ix These are not meant, Wright strongly reminds, to be the only ways that we renew creation. They act as good starting points.

Thus, in returning to the resurrection and meditating on its applications, Wright shows us how it drastically changes what we believe, where we

are going, and how we act. The resurrection gives us the celebration – Jesus is risen, and because of that there is hope for more than this difficult existence. The new creation gives us the vision: the future will see God completely redeeming his creation, making all things right. Finally, renewal gives us the means: the church must work to make things as God intended them, such as writing just laws,

The church must work to make things as God intended them, such as writing just laws, caring for the environment, creating beautiful art, and loving other people.

The Resurrection of Christ by Alonso López de Herrera, c. 1625


end up profoundly changing the nature of the church today. In a work that has the potential to shake the foundations of both Christians and non-Christians, Wright returns us to the true Christian message, and shows how it can still change the world.

i. N. T. Wright, Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church (New York: HarperOne, 2008) Front Cover.ii. Wright, 40-51.iii. Wright, 58-74.iv. Wright, 96-97.v. Wright, 93.vi. Wright, 81-82.vii. Wright, 89-91.viii. Matthew 4:23 (ESV).ix. Wright, 207-230.

Transfiguration of Jesus in Mielno, Poland by Tineau, 2007

Josh Alexakos ’17 is from Hingham, MA. He is a Government major and a minor in Religion.


The Nicene Creed

This prayer by professor of religion Lucius Waterman appears on a plaque hanging outside Parkhurst Hall.

O Lord God Almighty, well-spring of wisdom, master of power, guide of all growth, giver of all gain. We make our prayer to thee, this day, for Dartmouth College. Earnestly entreating thy favour for its people. For its work, and for all its life. Let thy hand be upon its officers of administration to make them strong and wise, and let thy word make known to them the hiding-place of power. Give to its teachers the gift of teaching, and make them to be men right-minded and high-hearted. Give to its students the spirit of vision, and fill them with a just ambition to be strong and well-furnished, and to have understanding of the times in which they live. Save the men of Dartmouth from the allurements of self-indulgence, from the assaults of evil foes, from pride of success, from false ambitions, from hardness, from shallowness, from laziness, from heedlessness, from carelessness of opportunity, and from ingratitude for sacrifices out of which their opportunity has grown. Make, we beseech thee, this society of scholars to be a fountain of true knowledge, a temple of sacred service, a fortress for the defense of things just and right, and fill the Dartmouth spirit with thy spirit, to make it a name and a praise that shall not fail, but stand before thee forever. We ask in the name in which alone is salvation, even through Jesus Christ our Lord, amen.

The Reverend Lucius Waterman, D.D.

The Dartmouth Apologia invites people from all intellectual, philosophical, religious, and spiritual

backgrounds to join in our discussion as we search for truth and authenticity. We do, however, reserve

the right to publish only that which aligns with our statement of belief.

We, the members of The Dartmouth Apologia, affirm that the Bible is inspired by God, that faith in Jesus

Christ is necessary for salvation, and that God has called us to live by the moral principles of the New

Testament. We also affirm the Nicene Creed, with the understanding that views may differ on baptism and

the meaning of the word “catholic.”

We [I] believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is, seen and unseen.

We [I] believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one Being with the Father. Through him all things were made. For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven: by the power of the Holy Spirit he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary, and was made man. For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried. On the third day he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures; he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.

We [I] believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father [and the Son]. With the Father and the Son he is worshiped and glorified. He has spoken through the Prophets. We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church. We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.

A Prayer for Dartmouth

] [

Image by Natalie Shell ’15

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Apologia Fall 2015