Molinism and The "Publisher" of Evil

A friend forwarded me a recent James White and William Lane Craig discussion (link). I listened to the opening remarks (through 18 minutes) and had a few observations of and reflections on what Craig said.

The way Craig frames his position in his opening remarks about Scrooge is important. The spirit of Christmas future shows Scrooge what would (emphasis Craig) happen, given certain conditions. The critical point is at the 14 minute mark: Craig says God knows what "people would freely choose" in any circumstance "in which they might be placed" logically prior to decreeing in what circumstances people are placed.

This is the essence of Molinism. It's almost like God runs a simulation of what "I" would "freely" choose in scenario x, y, and z. God then determines to create the conditions for scenario y so that the simulation plays out in reality. In this way, the Molinist maintains that God is in control of all things. After all, God could have run scenario z if He wanted to, so He is "in control." Yet the Molinist will also claim that people are free in a libertarian sense, since "my" choice in scenario y was (allegedly) free. God's knowledge of what my choice would be in scenario y is not dependent on His decree that scenario y actually happens - just the opposite.

The problem with this is referred to as the grounding objection, and as I understand it, it can be explained in various ways:

If God's decree is "logically posterior" to His knowledge of what I would freely choose in a given scenario, the question is begged as to what "grounds" God's knowledge of what I would freely choose. God allegedly has middle knowledge, but how? It can't be grounded in God's natural (necessary) knowledge, because we aren't talking about necessary truths or realities. It can't be grounded in God's decretal knowledge, since God's decree is (allegedly) logically posterior to God's so-called "middle" knowledge of what I "would" "freely" choose in a given scenario.

So on what basis does God know what I would choose in a given scenario? A simulation? A simulation is never the reality. The question is how God can know, if I am free in a libertarian sense, that I would choose a definitively certain way given scenario y. For until the scenario is "run" (played out in reality such that I am able to make a choice in that scenario), I haven't actually made a choice (I am not the same as a simulated version of myself).

A Molinist will likely demure and say that the basis for God's knowledge is not a simulation. But since middle knowledge cannot be something tied to God's own nature (i.e. things dealing with necessary truths or reality) nor God's decree (i.e. things dealing with God's free choice), then it seems all that is left is that God's "middle" knowledge depends on a quasi-real version of myself. Perhaps a more neutral way to frame the point is by asking how I can be really free (in a libertarian sense) if God knows that I would act a certain way logically before I actually do.

Even if the Molinist continues to protest against these representations, the main point (that even the Molinist would seem to admit) is that God's "middle" knowledge depends on something external to Himself. Even Craig admits this when he elsewhere says, God "has to play with the hand He has been dealt" (link). This statement that Craig made in the past gives away his and the Molinist's position: it seems that someone else has dealt the cards and, therefore 1) God is not in control of all things (e.g. the dealt hand), and 2) God's knowledge is dependent upon whoever or whatever dealt these cards.

This is severely problematic. If God's knowledge is eternal (as I think and have argued it must be) yet dependent, then what is the nature of that on which His knowledge is dependent? Is that something else co-eternal with God? And aside from this question, is it possible for God to be eternally omniscient if His knowledge is dependent upon an extrinsic source (I would and have argued in the above link is not)?

This is the main counterargument against Molinism. Now, as for what Craig says about Molinists and Calvinists being like-minded in agreeing God has overriding purposes for moral evil yet there being a significant distinction in that for the Molinist, God can "will" in given circumstances that one choose good whereas a Calvinist cannot, his argument is equivocal. Calvinists can maintain the same distinction Craig would between God's moral or prescriptively will vs. His decretal will. In a given circumstance, a Calvinist can maintain God commands other than He had decreed.

Furthermore, for the Molinist, God does not merely permit moral evil, He decrees it. The Molinist would agree God could have not created at all. So the decree for God to create this world means that the Molinist must agree God wants moral evil to occur. Whatever reasons He might have for decreeing a world in which creatures freely choose evil, He wanted this world.

So much, I think, is the standard Calvinist reply to Molinism. I think the following illustration, however, highlights the point. In contexts involving the problem of evil and the Reformed response, I tend to hear a lot about God as the "author of evil." But consider two publishers:

1) Publisher 1 publishes a book he wrote, and the book he wrote includes characters that choose moral evil.

2) Publisher 2 has drafts of books handed to him (by whom? who knows!), and he chooses to publish one in which characters choose moral evil over any drafts of books in which no one chooses moral evil.

Is there a significant moral difference between the two publishers? I fail to see one. One might argue that because publisher 1 was also the author of the book, he is morally "responsible" for causing the characters who choose moral evil in a way that publisher 2 was not.

Now, a publisher who is also the author has more direct, intentional impact on why characters act a certain way. But his reasons for writing them the way he does need not differ from the reasons a mere publisher perusing the same book might choose it involving the same characters. If it is morally acceptable for the second publisher to publish the same book as the first publisher (who also authored the book), the burden is on the one who argues that the first publisher acted in a morally unacceptable way to pinpoint why the first publisher's more direct and intentional connection is morally unacceptable. Simply stating that the first publisher was also the author is not an argument against the moral acceptability of his actions.

In fact and on the contrary, I would argue that an author who intentionally writes characters a certain way is, if anything, in a better position to know why the book is worth publishing in contrast to a publisher who has been handed several drafts ("dealt" a hand) and left to divine - pun intended - which one tells the best story!

So while Molinists like Craig may charge Reformed Christians with believing God is the author of sin - and I have argued elsewhere that whether or not this is accurate or even problematic depends on what the person making the charge means by "author" - Molinists like Craig believe God is the publisher of sin. For the same reasons Craig would not view his position as problematic, Reformed Christians have analogous appeals as to why their view is not problematic. A book that is worth publishing was a book worth authoring.

How to Study a Philosopher or Theologian

A friend asked me to summarize how I have gone about studying the thought and work of Gordon Clark - that is, what methodological approaches have I used (consciously or otherwise) that would I recommend others take when trying to correctly understand, accurately represent and articulate, and/or develop the thought of another theologian, philosopher, etc. The following is a list of what came to mind:

Is the Theologian/Philosopher Worthwhile?

I started reading books by Gordon Clark a little more than a dozen years ago. At the time, I wanted to be confident in how to defend a faith I had been taught from youth and was learning more about in college. I used to seek out discussions or debates with others to fine tune my apologetic thought processes: what do I find to be good arguments? What arguments seemed to ring hollow? Were there areas in which I was not confident?

To make a long story short, prior to my exposure to Gordon Clark, I toyed with the idea that a transcendental argument could prove the "Christian" worldview true. I knew that evidential arguments would not suffice for a strict proof, so I tried testing, usually in discussions and debates with agnostics and atheists, whether a certain feature or features unique to "Christianity" - for example, the Trinity - had to be implicitly accepted (e.g. either for metaphysical or epistemological reasons). If I couldn't do that, then I felt - at the time - that my faith would rest on shaky grounds. I suppose I was thinking like a rationalist.

Typically, at some point in a conversation, the other person I was talking to would acknowledge that they had certain inconsistencies within their own belief systems and would stop conversation. But I was left with the worried feeling that if they simply pointed out that my own, specific views did not follow from the fact that theirs were flawed - or that whatever arguments I was using did not and would not specifically select for my faith - then I would be unable to affirm with certainty that "Christianity" is true. I felt better about having comparative consistency in my beliefs - I was never tempted to abandon my faith - but I wasn't sure how to pacify my uneasiness in being unable to prove "Christianity" was true. 

[I put "Christianity" in quotes because had someone ever stopped to ask me how I knew what "Christianity" - or a unique feature thereof - was, that may have led to me question how I could prove the Bible itself (a canonical collection of specific books and passages) really was God's Word. It was a question I had never considered, so don't know how I would have answered that.]

In 2009, I happened upon the presuppositionalism of Gordon Clark, whose points about the need for first principles allowed me to see that everyone makes assumptions. We cannot "prove" all of our beliefs ad infinitum. I found this convincing, and the way in which the point was presented was so simple, I found myself wanting to read more by him: did he have ideas about how or why some assumptions or presuppositions could be better than others, or how we could defend some to be true and find others to be false? Yes, he did. The more I read, the more I became interested. I doubt I would have kept reading Clark if he had only made that solitary (though important) observation and left readers to figure out any subsequent questions on their own. 

In short, then, I generally liked how he thought, and his writing was personable enough for me to want to continue learning more about what he had to say. I can imagine that another reason one might be attracted to Clark's thought is by having knowledge of the man himself: in all areas of his life, he stood for what he thought was true. If I were to recommend a starting point for others who want to "master" the thought, so to speak, of another person, it would simply be to find a person whose content or life story you enjoy reading about or listening to. 

Alternatively (or additionally), one can study an author so long as one has a defined motivation, goal, or purpose. A long time ago, I read William Young's "The Shack," not because I thought I would particularly enjoy the content, but precisely because I gathered that someone I knew might enjoy the content - content which I gathered contained unorthodox views of Christianity. While I would not have otherwise read the book, it wasn't so much a chore for me to do so because I had a reason for it: to highlight remarks in the book that an unsuspecting reader might overlook and point them out as having dangerous implications. 

Now, while that was just one book, I could extrapolate the principle to an entire collection of works by an author with whom I disagree, and indeed I have done in at least one other case that I can recall. In preparation for the 2012 TrinityFoundation essay contest - contests which were motivation enough for me to begin reading Clark in the first place - I not only read John Robbins' book-length critique of Ayn Rand's so-called Objectivist philosophy, I bought all of her published books and read them myself. I studied her thought, not just Robbins'. 

As penetrating as Robbins' critique may have been, I wanted to make sure, among other things, that it was accurate as well as developed, two other methodological points which served to supplement my motivation and to which I will return below. Would I have had a personal interest in reading Ayn Rand were it not for an essay contest? No. But again, having a specific goal helped the cause: I wanted to write my own critique of Rand simultaneous to reviewing Robbins' book.

One thing I think is important to mention is that all of these authors mentioned thus far wrote as popularizers, which is not meant as a pejorative (just the opposite). Rand and Young wrote fiction for wide readership. Robbins and Clark wrote so that lay Christians - particularly, Reformed Christians - could understand philosophy and its importance. Their works are all relatively inexpensive. I do not know how easy it would be to invest myself in reading an author whose content, price point, or intended audience is rather specialized unless I had a natural interest in the content about which they wrote or specific purpose for reading their work in mind. 

So: do you want to learn about the sorts of things a given philosopher or theologian has to say? Do you have some definite reason for reviewing their work? Do you plan to write a book on them, talk about them with others, or synthesize some of what insight you think they have into your own belief system or life choices? Make sure your study is worth your time. 

Comprehensiveness and Patience

I didn't immediately know that I was going to study Clark as much as I have. It was due to the essay contests put forward by the TrinityFoundation that I was able to acquire some of Clark's relatively more expensive collections without having to spend a lot of money which, as a poor college student, was important. At some point, I decided that because I had already acquired so many of his books, it would be cool to have them all. 

It was convenient to not have to search hard for a bibliography of his works. At the time, the TrinityFoundation had nearly every publication I could find online. For some authors, this is not so easy. Rand only wrote a dozen or so books. Clark wrote around forty, and even though around 300 writings or transcriptions by Clark have been discovered in the past decade, many of these are short and not nearly as dense as other philosophers or theologians. 

For instance, James B. Jordan, whose work I began looking into last year, is a much more prolific writer and speaker: in a festschrift written for him, the bibliography runs approximately 25 Word document pages long, is now out of date by over 10 years, and does not adequately capture the reality that there are nearly over 1700 recordings of him (compared to the perhaps few dozen or so one can find of Clark).

Hence, studying even one philosopher or theologian can require a great deal of patience. Even before a wife and house and real job (and, in the future, kids), it took me a little less than a year to feel like I had thoroughly studied Rand's philosophy, and it took over 3 years for me to grasp Clark's thought before I really felt equal to the task of understanding him well enough to challenge and/or develop his ideas. It will take a long time for me to be able to do that with respect to Jordan. 

The mindset and approach to how one studies is as important as the study itself. Accepting that studying a philosopher or theologian can be a long-term and ongoing process is important to not feel discouraged, especially if it seems you can't quite get a proper perspective of some aspect you feel as though you should. Even now, with the release of many new articles by Clark, I find myself returning to a project (see below) I had thought was essentially complete. But the payoff is mastery, so I advise collecting as much of the person's works as you can in preparation to be thorough, then reading or listening to them once to get a sense of the general thought, and only afterwards setting yourself to the task of "studying," on which see below.

The Actual Study or Research

What helped me as I went through Clark's books after the first read was setting a goal. As I read more, I found that even in books not specifically geared towards epistemology or apologetics - the reasons I began reading him in the first place - Clark would usually make a few comments that would have some bearing on these subjects. Searching for these over time became almost like a scavenger hunt, which was what probably led me to a research project of compiling a list of his quotes relating to epistemology and apologetics. 

After my first read-through of a book, I would go back through it and skim to find and highlight certain sentences or paragraphs which I later intended to transcribe to a Word document. I only looked for statements that I found relevant to epistemology and apologetics. I worked on this for around a year, with the result being some 200+ pages of Clark quotes. I have been compiling further quotes from newly released articles by Clark over the past few years (at a much slower pace than my original project), and this has led to 350+ additional pages of quotes. There are still 30+ longer articles/transcriptions for me to review, and I anticipate 150+ more pages of quotes to include. This addendum to the original project is ongoing and will probably be another several years before completed to my satisfaction (fortunately, these writings are online, so it is not so much transcription as it is editing). Like I said, patience is a necessity.

While repeat reading and transcription probably helped to solidify Clark's thoughts in my mind, I think what helped more was beginning to apply his thinking to conversations I was having and posts I was writing. The research process I described above facilitated that by making it easy for me to search through my compilation for key words as well as reference to where and what the fuller context of those statements were (if I needed to). When someone had or has a question about Clark's views, I haven't had to work from memory: I have a searchable and quotable resource from which I can lead the questioner straight to the source.

For instance, a few years ago, there was a question in Scripturalist circles as to how Clark defined knowledge: as 1) mere true belief or 2) as [so-called] "justified" true belief. I was able to answer the question for a few people by producing multiple quotes in defense of a particular interpretation of Clark's thought (in essence, of the two choices, I believe the latter description more accurately reflects Clark's thought). Similarly, when some refer to Clark as an epistemological coherentist or externalist, I have resource to think otherwise and have argued to that effect.

Or if I have wanted to write a post on Clark's views - for example, regarding a specific apologetic argument from partial knowledge - having a full library of books at my disposal has been important, but parsing those books down into relevant and searchable portions has been indispensable. But if I had finished the project and not applied it to my any conversations or reflections, I don't know that I would have retained the information very well.

Authorial Tension, Openness to Revision, and History vs. Development

No one theologian or philosopher is perfect. In any work or collection of works, there may be errors or lacuna - the latter might even be by design, given the intended scope of a work. Further, like anyone else, philosophers and theologians can change their minds over time. Therefore, those who study them ought to be open to a revised understanding of what they taught. In his late life, Augustine wrote a whole book of reconsiderations in which he outlined points at which he had changed his mind. In the case of some authors, like Clark, new publications or anecdotes by people who knew him can also surface that can also broaden our understanding of his thought. 

Example: I remember listening to Greg Bahnsen say that in a conversation he had with Clark, Clark openly questioned the Westminster Confession's doctrine of assurance (link, minutes 50-52) due to his skepticism (at the time of the conversation) that a person could have self-knowledge. This is an anecdote you won't find in any of Clark's publications, and the anecdote illustrates the importance of reading or listening to other material than who it is being studied. It is an anecdote I have no reason to doubt; on the contrary, given that Clark wrestled with the question of self-knowledge and found himself answering it in affirmative in some publications and in the negative in others, I can easily enough believe the conversation happened as described. 

What then? Well, I affirm self-knowledge and see that Clark did too... sometimes. Such does not entail that Clark did so at all times, and as much as I or others admire Clark, we need to accept that he was sometimes wrong or did not believe everything that we may wish he did. Authorial tension and history are realities. If one finds real authorial tension or certain historical statements by an author frustrating - especially if it is someone one might consider a "hero of the faith" - I think there may be a danger in implicitly treating him as infallible. A mature Christian ought to be able to separate he believes from what an author believed or believes. 

Another example: Clark once wrote, "Science is always false, but often useful." Even when I read that for the first time, it didn't make sense. If two scientists formulate two contradictory hypotheses and, after scientific procedures, come to contradictory conclusions, one must be right and the other must be wrong. Of course, the scientific procedure of the one who is right may or may not enable that scientist to know that his hypothesis is true, but this is a separate question from whether or not the hypothesis of that scientist is itself true. So many admirers of Clark can't seem to grasp that Clark simply blundered at this point. I suspect Clark intended to say something to the effect of "Science cannot enable us to know truth." But since that isn't what he wrote at this point, the reader has to address the content of the statement as it is: false.

With that said, one can and should, as Bahnsen was, be charitable about disagreement. We can, like Bahnsen did, speculate that Clark perhaps intended something other than the face-value of the statements he made. Even when the disagreement is real and substantial, one can be kind while delivering a rebuke or rebuttal. 

But in order to improve or develop an author's thought - whether towards truth or the application of the thought to other contexts than those the author addressed - one must first have an accurate understanding of the thought as the author himself expresses it. If disagreement exists, it has to be recognized and confronted so that a better view can be proposed. This is best done only after having as full an understanding of an author's reasons for disagreement as possible, as one can then argue the contrary more effectively... or, perhaps, allow that the author's reasoning is sound and change his own mind! Either way, reading or listening to others about the same subject matter as the author being studied will tend to provide needed balance.

Summary

Have a purpose for your study.

Own all the person's works (or as many as possible).

Read and/or listen to the person normally, then skim/highlight with intention.

Consider transcribing/editing quotes of interest for use in conversation, reflective writing, etc.

Accept the possibility of tension within the author's own thought, but be charitable.

Be open to revision.

Differentiate between what the author believed or believes and what you yourself believe.

Think about how to improve the author's thought, whether towards truth or comprehensiveness.

Read other material.

Be patient, and enjoy the study.

Book Review: Scripturalism and the Senses (Part 9)

Links to all parts may be found here. This part will contain a review and evaluation of Mr. Lazar's eighth chapter in his book, Scripturalism and the Senses.

Is Scripturalism Fundamentally Tied to Internalism?

Because both this chapter and Mr. Lazar's last chapter are so integrally tied to understanding the difference between internalism and externalism, I thought I'd begin this review with some prefatory comments. 

One of the only objections I've seen from fellow Scripturalists to the idea that Scripturalism is tied to internalism is the thought that divine revelation is something "external" to us. If divine revelation is something distinct from us, does that not mean that it is "external" to us? Such objections betray a complete unfamiliarity with what internalism and externalism actually mean. I cited contemporary epistemologist Michael Williams in a post long ago that succinctly explains the difference:

Internalism is the view that, to be justified in holding a belief, we must have “cognitive access” to its “justification-makers.” So-called “externalist” theories of knowledge and justification, by contrast, allow epistemically appropriate believing to result from factors of which we are not aware.

Now, at the end of my last review, I linked to posts I've written (including the above) in which I further explain why I think Scripturalism is tied to internalism, a particular view of epistemic justification. While Scripturalism may also be compatible with externalism in some contexts, one's "basic epistemology," as Clark put it, ought to involve a first principle that is self-authenticating or self-justifying. This means that one can be aware of or have cognitive access to the epistemic justification for one's first principle, for the epistemic justification does not come from any external factors. 

Is divine revelation something that is distinct from us? Of course. But is divine revelation cognitively accessible? Yes, it is. We can reflect upon, meditate upon, and be aware of divine revelation, the extant extent of which is codified in Scripture. In fact, this is one of the reasons that I mentioned in an earlier review that Scripturalists ought to regard our epistemic foundation, not as a physical and non-propositional texts, but rather as the [propositional] contents which the texts codify. Hence, Scripturalism is fundamentally tied to internalism even if it is compatible with [other] beliefs being epistemically justified or "known" on externalist grounds.

I really am not trying to suggest that I know it all. I don't. But it is admittedly frustrating to hear these kinds of objections when I have already anticipated such objections in and by providing definitions of the very terms in question, definitions I honestly doubt objectors have even thought to consider. I can only hope that, at some point, contemporary Scripturalists get with the times if they really want to start identifying with contemporary labels. I am aware of several Scripturalists who seem to think Scripturalism is fundamentally tied to externalism, not internalism. I hope these reviews cause them to rethink their position.

Anyways, if I can give Mr. Lazar credit for one thing, it is that he does not seem unwilling to read contemporary philosophers in general or epistemologists in particular, something I've recommended Scripturalists need to do for a long time now (link). He has not made the mistakes I am addressing above. I only thought it would be worthwhile to deal with them here and remind readers of the definitions for internalism and externalism as I proceed to review Mr. Lazar's eighth chapter.

Sense Knowledge, Internalism, and Externalism

I mentioned that Mr. Lazar provided what were, in my mind, several good biblical cases of extra-biblical knowledge. In this chapter, Mr. Lazar seems to want to pursue his point a bit farther, citing several biblical stories to strengthen his case. Unfortunately, I didn't think the examples he picked were well chosen. 

For example, Clark might have chuckled at Mr. Lazar's choice to argue for sense knowledge based a story from the Bible in which sense deception occurred. Now, as a quote early on in Mr. Lazar's chapter shows, Clark didn't deny sense experiences, even if he overemphasized metaphorical cases involving them. So yes, in the story of Isaac and Jacob, Isaac's ears heard, eyes saw, and hands felt, just as God created them to do. Isaac is nevertheless tricked into a false belief that was [seemingly] caused by his senses. There is a book called Clark Speaks from the Grave, and I fancy that I can almost myself "hearing" Clark ask from beyond the grave, "how then can one trust whether his senses have caused a true belief?" This is a fair question, and I will return to it below.

Returning to the story and Mr. Lazar's arguments, it does appear Jacob makes an assumption that "if I do not dress up, Isaac will not be deceived." However, that assumption wouldn't itself imply Isaac would have otherwise known Jacob was appearing before him. That is, what Jacob may assume in this story isn’t explicitly validated, much less is it implied that any of the individuals in the story would have had or did have knowledge due to sensation. In other words, this story doesn't help Mr. Lazar's case.

Likewise, when Mr. Lazar brings up "doubting Thomas," we follow the story and read that Thomas would not believe that Jesus rose again unless he saw and touched Him. Jesus later rebuked Thomas for wanting to believe on the basis of sight. Mr. Lazar's conclusion that "the Bible assume the validity of the senses and their ability to furnish us with knowledge" (emphasis mine) does not follow from this story. Neither in this story nor in the story of Jacob and Isaac do we read anything about individuals acquiring or acting based on knowledge. Such responses would have sufficed for Clark to defend his epistemology without having to appeal to the sorts of metaphors Mr. Lazar notes he usually did. I think this recommends apologetic conservativism to us, another point I will return to below.

But that's boring! So while the following is entirely hypothetical, let's instead imagine that Clark read Mr. Lazar's chapter and felt especially responsive. Let's say that he not only was satisfied with replying along the above lines but also replied that these stories have more to do with metaphysics (causation of beliefs) rather than epistemology (beliefs that can be viewed as known).

Mr. Lazar might respond that, in such a scenario, Clark would be assuming that the two have nothing to do with one another. That is, perhaps the manner in which true beliefs are caused, for example, itself can function as epistemic justification. This would be to suggest externalism: we can refer to true beliefs as being known if they have been caused in a particular, divinely designed manner. We may not be aware of the causal process that was divinely ordained (hence, at least one justificatory factor is external), but we can hypothesize that the causal process occurred.

As was already noted above, Clark could just reply that these biblical stories are not evidence for an externalist theory of epistemic justification. In fact, since the passages say nothing about knowledge, it is actually Mr. Lazar who would be making the assumption. Even though this is a hypothetical, since Mr. Lazar did bring these passages up in a chapter on sense knowledge, the charge does seem to be applicable. It also foretells why Mr. Lazar would have been better off sticking to explicit Scriptural cases of extra-biblical knowledge rather than unnecessarily attempting to multiply examples. 

But rather than pursuing that consideration at this point, let's consider what else Clark might have said. Since Clark was interested in distinguishing between cases of knowledge and opinion, suppose he asked Mr. Lazar the following question: can one who has "knowledge" in an externalist sense distinguish such "knowledge" from an opinion, or is it only third-parties (like God) who can be consciously aware of what externalist "knowledge" we possess? 

Say one had two beliefs - one which was an untrue opinion and another which was a true belief that was epistemically justified in an externalist sense such that this latter belief could legitimately be regarded, in an externalist sense, as "knowledge" - could the person be aware of which belief of his is the one that is epistemically justified ("known")? Well, I think Mr. Lazar implicitly admits that he can't:

Clark claimed that you can't affirm the possibility of sense knowledge without first explaining how it works... What's the Neo-Scripturalist response to this objection? To reiterate that we take sense knowledge axiomatically, not on the basis of empirical theories. We know that sense knowledge happens because the Bible says so, not because we can explain how it happens philosophically.

Reading Mr. Lazar carefully, he may be correct that that Bible says we can know that sense knowledge happens in general. But if we cannot tell when sense knowledge actually happens - for what if we are all potential Isaac's with deceitful Jacobs [or the demon of Descartes] plotting to trick us! - then it seems we cannot consciously distinguish our true beliefs that have epistemic justification in an externalist sense from other beliefs of ours which are [potentially false] opinions.

Consider why not: take a belief that is known in an externalist sense. In part, the reason such a belief could be generally regarded as "known" is because at least one element of one's epistemic justification is not reflectively or cognitively accessible. There is at least one contributing factor to one's epistemic justification of which one cannot be aware (precisely because it is "external"). Whatever the external element or contributing factor is, it prevents one's being aware of it and, I conclude, therefore prevents one's being aware that his belief is known in an externalist sense. That is, in the scenario we are considering, one cannot be aware of one's own true belief as anything more than an opinion even if a third party could. For only a third party (like an omniscient God) could be aware of the justificatory factor that is present such that our belief is "known" by us in an externalist sense.

I think that for Mr. Lazar to object to any of this would really mean that he would be positing an empirical theory of knowledge after all, despite his protestations to the contrary. If he were to try to defend the presence of the "external," justificatory factor in a particular sense experience so as to identify when one has sense knowledge, that would suggest Mr. Lazar could be aware of the presence of it after all. It would no longer be "external" to Mr. Lazar but something about which he could be aware. How he could be aware is anyone's guess, but I think it would conform to some empiricist theory of knowledge even if not a pure empiricism.

With the above arguments in mind, what good does it do for, say, God to be aware of what we "know" in an externalist sense if we ourselves cannot be aware of this "knowledge"? Well, we should not too hastily conclude that beliefs which are epistemically justified in an externalist sense are useless (link). Hypothetical reasoning is important, although it's importance is not to be overstated. But the fact that we cannot be aware of externalist "knowledge" we may posses should give us apologetic pause. Which of our beliefs should we fundamentally be attempting to defend: ones that have epistemic justification of which we can be aware, or one's that have at least one justificatory element of which we cannot be aware?

I expanded on this question in my last review, explaining why knowledge that is epistemically justified in a [purely] internalist sense is more fundamental than that which is justified in an externalist sense. Note that Mr. Lazar implicitly agrees in the way in which he defends sense knowledge. Mr. Lazar may say that we should take sense knowledge as axiomatic. But does he really mean that?

I cannot think that he does. Suppose Isaac took it as axiomatic that he was talking to Esau when he was actually deceived! Just because one says he takes something as axiomatic does not mean his belief is true. Sense knowledge is not self-authenticating like God's word is. In fact, Mr. Lazar readily admits that he inferred that (again, not when) sense knowledge is legitimate from God's word: "Neo-Scripturalism accepts sense knowledge on the basis of our master axiom, i.e. the Bible" (emphasis mine). Okay, but if one's belief is inferred or deduced from a prior premise - even the Bible - that belief cannot be regarded as axiomatic by definition. 

Therefore, Mr. Lazar himself seems to implicitly recognize that we defend that we can have beliefs that are epistemically justified in an externalist sense by first appealing to a foundational or axiomatic belief that is epistemically justified in an internalist sense. The truth of divine revelation (in our case, the extant extent of which is Scripture) is self-justifying or self-authenticating; hence, we can clearly reflect on or be aware of this justification. This is a belief which is justified in a [purely] internalist sense. 

What this chapter turns out to be, then, is a further example of how internalism is apologetically more fundamental than externalism. Even if we have beliefs that are epistemically justified in an externalist sense long before we have beliefs that are epistemically justified in a [purely] internalist sense, we cannot be fully assured in a defense of the former until we have the latter. A child can "know" who his parents are in an externalist sense. But a mature ability to defend this kind of knowledge will not be possible until the child grows in grace and knowledge such that his conscious epistemic foundation is God's word, and this is why Scripturalism is intimately tied to internalism. Scripturalists have a conscious epistemology, not an unconscious one.

To return to my opening remarks, Mr. Lazar was better off, in his critique of Clark, bringing up passages like Mark 6:38, 13:28, and 15:44-45. These indeed appear to be instances of "sense knowledge," properly construed in an externalist sense of epistemic justification. That doesn’t mean Clark’s specific focus on the kind of knowledge in which he was interested (link) was wrong, only that it should not be regarded as the exclusive meaning of "knowledge" in all contexts. Clark's implicitly internalist understanding of "knowledge" just sets the context for our being able to defend an externalist understanding of "knowledge."

There are many more reasons for not regarding Scripturalism as fundamentally tied to an externalist theory of knowledge. I've mentioned most of them in other posts. One more reason is that subscription a fundamentally internalist theory of knowledge can allow for cases of externalist knowledge. If we regard divine revelation as our epistemic foundation - one whose justification we can be aware of (precisely because the foundation, of which we are aware, is self-authenticating or self-justifying; link) - then one can, just as Mr. Lazar has, deduce from it examples within that revelation why an externalist theory of knowledge is defensible. If one begins with an externalist theory of knowledge, however, one can never from such "knowledge" deduce that internalist knowledge is possible, for one can never be aware of what he himself actually "knows" in an externalist sense, if anything. 

Clark may well have agreed with all of this had he been given the chance to reflect on it. Personally, I do wish he spoke to these sorts of texts more than mentioning metaphorical cases of sense organs. Nevertheless, I would argue that the context for the kind of "knowledge" Clark is interested in is fundamental to epistemic discussions.

Tactical Apologetics: Recommending a Conservative Approach

I think this chapter is an example of apologetic overreach. I think Mr. Lazar really desires to such forth as much evidence as possible for a position I would even broadly agree is correct: there are biblical examples of extra-biblical knowledge. But if Clark were alive and had the inclination to respond to Mr. Lazar's book, I think it would have been easy for him to respond to this chapter. 

Perhaps Clark would still have dealt with the stronger examples for Mr. Lazar's position. But one can be sure that many others would not. Instead, they would simply respond to Mr. Lazar's weaker arguments, ignore the stronger ones, and act as if they had thoroughly refuted Mr. Lazar. While this would not be done in good faith, Christians should know all too well why acting in bad faith is commonplace and should be our expectation in a world of sin.

This leads me to think that when we are defending our beliefs, we ought to set forth our best critiques of positions with which we disagree. If such critiques are defeated, so be it. We must think again upon 1) whether there are stronger critiques against the position that we hadn't considered, and 2) whether our beliefs on the matter in question are correct. But, if possible, we should be careful not to give those with whom we disagree any room for relief in being able to respond to weak arguments such that they can then posture while ignoring our strongest critiques. 

Apologetics can be a way of dialoguing with friends. I hope Mr. Lazar reads these posts with the understanding that I do not view him as someone who refuses to believe the truth. I myself may stand in need of correction on some points. I am only saying here that I think Mr. Lazar could have effectively said "more" against Clark's view (figuratively) by saying less (literally), focusing only on his strongest arguments and biblical cases that function as evidence for his views. 

With that in mind, I do think another intention of apologetics can be to shut mouths of those who refuse to believe the truth. If we only present our strongest critiques against a position (at least initially), we give stubborn adherents less reason to open their mouths against us. We don't need to say more in order for the Spirit to work in the minds of those with whom we are conversing. His power does not depend on how much we say. If anything, we need to keep our speech focused. As much of this is more so my own strategic opinion rather than a dogmatic assertion, though, I'll leave it at that.

In the next part of my review, I will turn to chapter 9, which Mr. Lazar calls The Bible and Other Sources of Knowledge.

Book Review: Scripturalism and the Senses (Part 8)

Links to all parts may be found here. This part will contain a review and evaluation of Mr. Lazar's seventh chapter in his book, Scripturalism and the Senses.

What Counts as Knowledge?

The stated purpose of the chapter is to answer what one can one know and what counts as knowledge. Mr. Lazar's first subsection in the chapter is called "Clark and Scripturalism on Knowledge and Opinion" (emphasis mine), yet he begins the section with a remarkable admission: he "wasn’t able to find a clear statement by Clark of what he considered to be knowledge." Therefore, Mr. Lazar instead quotes Crampton for his understanding of what knowledge is. 

If Mr. Lazar wanted to evaluate his own philosophy in light of Crampton's thoughts, I would completely understand why he is cited so often in the book. But that Clark's name is in the header implies Mr. Lazar still desires to follow his original intention of the book, "a work of constructive 'Clarkian' thought" (emphasis mine). At some point, it becomes difficult to accept that Mr. Lazar is really comparing his philosophy to Clark's. There is overlap between Clark and Crampton, and I do not wish to imply Mr. Lazar is being deceptive. However, as a reviewer, it is frustrating to untangle to whom Mr. Lazar is really directing some of his replies.

Additionally, what Clark has written about "knowledge" doesn’t appear to satisfy Mr. Lazar, who wants to stick to what the Bible means by the word. This is an understandable goal. However, since the Bible attests to its own truth, there is nothing wrong with, say, apagogically reasoning about what ideas about "knowledge" must be true in order for Biblical consistency to be maintained. This is what I think Clark often did. 

Anyways, there are plenty of places in his published works in which Clark wrote about "knowledge" of which Mr. Lazar doesn't seem to be aware (link). I don't think Clark's epistemology can be given a proper evaluation if one isn't able to establish that with which Clark was concerned. To give three examples:

1) The various Scriptural usages of the verb know raise a problem in apologetics to which a commentary can only allude in a footnote. The common meaning is exemplified in simple sentences, such, “I know that there is a tree on the lawn,” and “I know that David was King of Israel.” But sometimes, both in Hebrew and in Greek know means believe, obey, choose, have sexual intercourse. English too uses the verb in a variety of meanings. In their opposition to the intellectual emphasis on truth, experiential, emotional, mystical, and neo-orthodox apologetes have contrasted the intellectual Greek meaning with the (sometimes) sexual Hebrew meaning. This contrast is misguided because the Hebrew verb and the Greek verb are both so used. More serious than this linguistic incompetence is a flaw or a gap in the apologetics of these apologetes. It is well enough to point out the extended meanings of the verb. The verb is indeed so used. But such information is irrelevant as an argument against intellectualism and truth. The fallacy or defect is that these apologetes fail to explain knowledge in its basic sense. To insist on extended meanings of knowledge is no substitute for a basic epistemology. (The Pastoral Epistles, 1983, pg. 166) 

2) If a system has no starting point, it cannot start, nicht? But a starting point cannot have been deduced or based on something prior to the start, for nothing is prior to the start n’est-ce pas? Every system, therefore, every attempted system, must have an original, undeduced axiom. Our dear friend Aristotle noted this, for he argued that if all propositions had to be deduced, they would regress to infinity, with the result that nothing could be deduced. 

Since even Communism cannot prevent one from choosing whatever principle seems best to him, the Christian will choose the God of truth, or, if one prefer, the truth of God. He then proceeds by deduction, that is, by the law of contradiction, for the law of contradiction is embedded in the first word of Genesis. Bereshith, in the beginning, does not mean half-way through. That is to say, Scripture throughout assumes the law of contradiction, viz., a truth cannot be false. Since deduction is necessary inference, no further deduction – let alone induction – can disprove what has already been proved. Accordingly the knowledge possible for human beings consists of the axioms of and the deductions from Scripture. We can indeed entertain opinions about Columbus, and by accident or good luck they may be true; but we could not know it. Our dear pagan Plato, at the end of his Meno (98b) declared, "That there is a difference between right opinion and knowledge (ōrtheme) is not at all a conjecture with me, but something I would particularly assert that I knew." (Lord God of Truth, 1994, pg. 40) 

3) There is a story that at the birth of Louis XIV, Marie de Medici gave birth to twins. Father Joseph wrote a not to Richelieu, who imposed perpetual silence on the midwife. But a Spanish plotter picked up the discarded not and kidnapped the second twin. After training the younger twin, and after Richelieu’s death, the Spaniard managed to catch Louis XIV alone, put him in the Iron Mask, and the twin reappeared as Louis XIV. 

Granted, it is unlikely that anyone should go to such extremes to substitute another woman for the wife of an unimportant theologian or philosopher. But how do you know? So long as substitution is possible, certainty is impossible. Nor is substitution the only danger. For those whose philosophic preparation rises above the level of Alexander Dumas, there are always the prior difficulties of solipsism, subjective idealism, and, let us remember, Descartes’ malignant demon, who, so potent and deceitful, has employed all his artifice to deceive us. Modern philosophers prefer to ignore rather than to confront him. 

With this result the previous question returns. What account shall be given of everyday “knowledge” that common sense thinks it silly to doubt? Don’t I know when I am hungry? Can’t I use road maps to drive to Boston or Los Angeles? Indeed, how can I know what the Bible says without reading its pages with my own eyes? It was one secular philosopher criticizing another who said that knowledge is a fact and that any theory that did not account for it should be abandoned. But all such criticisms miss the point. The status of common opinion is not fixed until a theory has been accepted. One may admit that a number of propositions commonly believed are true; but no one can deny that many such are false. The problem is to elaborate a method by which the two classes can be distinguished. Plato, too, granted a place to opinion as distinct from knowledge; he even admitted that in some circumstances opinion was as useful as knowledge with a capital K. But to dispose of the whole matter by an appeal to road maps that we can see with our own eyes is to ignore everything said above about Aristotle. 

For one last time, therefore, we must summarize and emphasize the whole argument. Consider the philosophy of science outlined in the preceding lecture. There it was claimed and argued that experimental science produced no knowledge whatever of the processes of nature. The laboratory can devise no method for determining whether the Earth moves still while the Sun stands still or whether the Sun moves while the Earth stands still. Nor can the greatest amount of experimentation explain why two smooth pieces of marble adhere so stubbornly to each other. Neither can physics observe anything moving in a straight line. It is incorrect, therefore, to complain that the axiom of revelation deprives us of knowledge otherwise obtainable. There is no knowledge otherwise obtainable. (Clark and His Critics, Pgs. 75-76)

To summarize, the first quote shows that Clark recognized, as Mr. Lazar correctly notes, that the word "knowledge" has a semantic range that depends on the context. Later in the chapter, Mr. Lazar provides biblical examples of extra-biblical "knowledge" that I suspect Clark normally would have, if they weren't Scriptural accounts, categorized as "opinions." I think he would have done so due to an internalist constraint upon knowledge that is implicit both in the above statements (e.g. references to Descartes' demon, our ignorance of substitution as preventing us from knowing our wife, etc. are, from my readings, usually less relevant on externalist theories of knowledge, since such theories often take for granted scenarios in which what one believes is true) and others about his epistemology (link). 

What this means, however, is not that Mr. Lazar has "falsif[ied] the Scripturalist definition of knowledge" (emphasis mine). Rather, he has falsified a Scripturalist constraint upon knowledge, a constraint I have also written against elsewhere (link). This is not to diminish what Mr. Lazar has accomplished! Understanding that other kinds of “knowledge” as biblically legitimate is important. But the distinction between what Mr. Lazar has falsified and what he thinks he has falsified is also important.

Frankly, I honestly can't answer how Clark would have understood, for example, Mark 6:38, 13:28, and 15:44-45, in which people attain "knowledge" apart from divine revelation. Perhaps Clark really would have argued that the uses of "ginosko," in those cases, are examples of when the word refers to [mere] "belief," i.e. opinion, after all. If that would have been his answer, I would find it implausible. That is, if Clark set such a constraint upon "knowledge" that he would only have accepted an internalist and infallibilist form of epistemic justification, then I think he should not have done so. 

Given Clark's acceptance of a semantic range for "knowledge," maybe Clark would have had no issue with the way in which Mr. Lazar, in a later chapter, suggests how these cases can count as "knowledge." However, even if Clark is in need of correction here, as I suspect, I still think Clark is correct that the kind of "knowledge" referenced in those passages no substitute for a "basic epistemology." Why do I say that, and what does that mean for Clark?

If we look back to the bolded section of the first quote, in the context in which Clark mentions possibilities of what "knowledge" means, he mentions the failure of neo-orthodox apologetes to understand what the "basic sense" of "knowledge" is. I believe Clark's point is that "[i]n their opposition to the intellectual emphasis on truth," the neo-orthodox apologete has forgotten that his very apologetic itself presupposes "intellectualism and truth." Apologetics presupposes the sort of "knowledge" Clark had in mind.

As to what kind of "knowledge" Clark believed was needed for a "basic epistemology" and apologetics, I think he was interested, as I mentioned in the above link on meta-epistemology, in beliefs in true propositions sourced in a self-authenticating, axiomatic foundation of which one could be infallibly aware or upon one could reflect. 

I would argue that this kind of knowledge Paul tells the believers at Colossae (2:2-4) he wanted for them: "reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God's mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. I say this in order that no one may delude you with plausible arguments."

Keeping in mind the parallelisms of the "word[s] of God" (link, link), no apologetic can falsify a faith grounded in God's self-authenticating word, the extant extent of which is codified in the Bible. If our epistemology is grounded in divine revelation, therefore, we cannot be deluded by plausible arguments or be deceived as Adam and Eve were. They abandoned God's word as foundational. 

Instead, we must reach for a full assurance of knowledge. To be fully assured implies one is infallibly aware of the epistemic justification one has. One cannot have full assurance if he is incapable of reflecting upon his "knowledge," any other epistemic justification of it (e.g. if his knowledge is deduced), or if what he knows is capable of being false. Such incapability may have been true in Mr. Lazar's examples in Mark, in which third-persons (like Jesus or the gospel authors) are describing others coming to know certain things - those examples are compatible with an externalist view of knowledge, and I don't so constrain the semantic range of "knowledge" to eliminate such possibilities. 

But in this passage, Paul is exhorting us to reach for a first-person assurance - and this, I would argue, requires reflective access to that by which we are ourselves fully assured, i.e. a purely internalist view of knowledge. Other kinds of "knowledge" may be legitimately biblical, but I hope it is becoming more clear in what way Clark's understanding of "knowledge" can also be supported by the Bible, even if Clark himself provided no such defense or was overly restrictive in constraining that else to which "knowledge" may refer.

Furthermore, I hope it is becoming more clear as to why this understanding of "knowledge" is necessary for a "basic epistemology" and apologetics. As seen in the second and third quotes above, Clark recognized "knowledge" and "opinion" as two classes of beliefs. If one wants to reach for full assurance regarding his "knowledge," he must do as Clark writes and address "[t]he problem" of "elaborat[ing] a method by which the two classes can be distinguished." 

This is what a basic epistemology does. It answers Clark's often asked question, "how do you know?" It does not, as an externalist theory does, answer how other people might know, or how oneself might hypothetically know [if certain justificatory factors external to oneself and incapable of reflective access are present]. Rather, a "basic epistemology" enables us to be fully assured, and hence internalism and infallibilism are fundamental even if one would admit that other kinds of knowledge are legitimate. 

Moreover, apologetics - as I've mentioned many times in these reviews - is a defense of our epistemology. One must have an awareness of what one is defending: the hope within us. We may reflect and meditate on our hope, we may defend it, and indeed God calls us to do so. Just as with assurance, apologetics presupposes a first-person account of what we are defending (ideally, "knowledge").

In conclusion, Mr. Lazar's statement that "the Bible doesn't limit knowledge to what can be deduced from Biblical propositions" can be taken in one sense in which Mr. Lazar would be right and in another sense in which Mr. Lazar would be wrong. If we take Mr. Lazar to mean that in the Bible, the word "knowledge" is not itself limited to referring to one kind of belief, Clark himself recognized this in discussing the semantic range of the word. Mr. Lazar is also correct that the Bible provides case-examples of "knowledge" that are kinds of beliefs which Clark seems to preclude as possible, given what appears to me to be an implicit internalist and infallibilist constraint Clark placed upon epistemically justification. But if we take Mr. Lazar's statement to mean that "the Bible doesn't limit knowledge [that is epistemically justified in an internalist and infallibilist sense] to... Biblical propositions" and what may be deduced from biblical propositions, then I would have to disagree, given that the Bible is the extant extent of divine revelation. 

To those interested, I have written more on why I find exegesis to be yet another motivating factor for an internalist understanding of knowledge in my reply to Aquascum (linked above). Other posts in which I defend internalism and infallibilism as fundamental to Scripturalism include here, here, here, and here, as well as in a dialogue with Steve Hays (link, link, link). 

In the next part of my review, I will turn to chapter 8, which Mr. Lazar calls The Bible and Sense Knowledge.

Finding Meaning

The purpose of this post will be to briefly explore the usefulness of symbolism, parallelism, and literary structures in divine revelation.

Why do some specific words or phrases mean different things in different contexts? To an ordinary person, this may seem like an odd question. I confess that my own interest is due to something Gordon Clark once wrote as well as impressions I've gotten through his writings:

Suppose the word man had ten different meanings: It would be possible to invent ten different terms so that each term would stand for a single meaning, and once more the predicate and the assertion as a whole would be definite. If, however, terms had an infinite number of meanings, then all reasoning would come to an end. For if a word is to convey a significance, it must not only mean something, it must also not mean something. If it had all the meanings of all the terms in the dictionary, it would be useless in speech. Therefore, if terms had an infinite number of meanings, no term would have one meaning; and not to have one meaning is to have no meaning; but if words have no meaning, it is impossible to argue with other people or even to reason privately with oneself. If we do not think one thing, we think nothing; but if we can think of one thing, then we can assign to it a single unambiguous term. (Thales to Dewey, 2000, pgs. 87-89)

Clark was quite right that words must not mean something in order to mean something definite. But the part in bold seems to conflict with what he noted elsewhere: "…all languages have words with more than one meaning and often enough use the two meanings in one sentence" (Commentaries on Pauline Epistles, 2005, pg. 90). Writings by other Scripturalists even seem to have followed Clark's suggestions about "words" or "terms" (again, the part in bold) and applied it to sentences (link).

Perhaps Clark just meant, in Thales to Dewey, that words must mean something definite, for he didn't deny double entendres, metaphors, or the like. In any case, along these lines is the more important thought I want to stress: Clark also seems right in suggesting it possible to assign to one thought a single word or term that would convey meaning. But clearly, God did not do that in Scripture. 

Symbolism and parallelism abounds in God's word (link, link, link). Most Christians know that a lamb can symbolize Christ, even if they do not understand that the temple can symbolize the world or that a tree can symbolize a man. Most Christians also understand the following parallelism: just as Christ suffered unto glory, so too the pattern of the Christian life is to share in His suffering unto the partaking of His glory (1 Peter 4:13, 5:1). There is so much more depth to be found than this, as fundamental and important as it is (Hebrews 5:11ff.), but the main point is that some divinely revealed words have a different referent depending on different contexts.

I think we see symbols and literary parallelisms in Scripture because there are overlaps in functions, characteristics, or purposes of the realities in question. Symbols and literary parallelisms - rhetorical, structural, typological, etc. - are important because they helps us to discern the rhythms in and of history and its contents. What we learn from symbols and parallels, we then are to our apply lives with wisdom. 

Of course, this is not meant to suggest that any two realities considered in symbolism or parallel are of the same nature. Some men are called "elohim" in Scripture (Psalm 82:6-8), for example, not because such men are divine. Rather, these men image God in a particular way (as "judges") that extends beyond that of all people (Genesis 1:26-27). There is a parallel function, although the function is executed on a different scale.

Likewise, a rock is strong and God is strong: in both statements, "strong" must have some overlap in meaning for the symbolic statement that "The Lord is my rock" to be meaningful (Psalm 18:2). Of course, there is also is a disanalogy between the way in which a rock is strong and the way in which God is strong, and no one would confuse the nature of a rock with the nature of God. There is a commonality in attributing the characteristic to both subjects, although the manner in which the characteristic is exemplified will differ.

In a recent post (link), I mentioned that the Word-Christ, word-Scripture, and word-church serve coordinate functions to meet a common purpose. These too are not ontologically univocal, nor do they even have the same function or role in bringing about one's sanctification. Yet that each of these realities is referred to as a "word" indicates something in which they have something in common: each reveals God, and sanctification presupposes God's being revealed in one's life. The church-word speaks the truth of the word-Scriptures about the Word-Christ. These are so integrated in common purpose that common characteristics are also [symbolically!] attributed to them (e.g. "light").

Turning to literary structures, chiasmus (a-b-b'-a' communications), for example, are common occurrences in Scripture (link). These also reflect realities, and they are more readily ascertained and expressible due to synonyms (which wouldn't exist if we assigned to each thought a single word). For example, in the morning, we get out of bed, brush our teeth, eat, and drive to work. We then drive home, eat, brush our teeth, and go to bed in the evening. Almost every day of our lives, we live chiastically. Or take our conversions:

A - ethical presentation of the gospel to us, yet we are unable to obey it

B - metaphysical regeneration of us by the indwelling of the Spirit

C - our epistemological foundation becomes [or is implicitly understood to be] divine revelation

B' - we metaphysically understand ourselves in relation to God as sinners in need of salvation

A' - we ethically understand and obey God by faith and subsequent works 

Now, when we convert, we may not consciously submit that divine revelation is our epistemic foundation even though we subconsciously will act that way due to the indwelling of the Spirit. But that metaphysical change will transform our beliefs and actions in implicit submission to what divine revelation has to say. That is, we will - despite our continual need to put sin to death in our lives until we ourselves undergo death and resurrection - implicitly accept divine revelation as epistemologically foundational.

A mature awareness of our transformed epistemology - that is, when we consciously set the self-authenticating revelation of God (the extant extent of which is, for us, codified in Scripture) as our epistemological foundation - will lead to a mature knowledge and defense of the metaphysical and ethical transformations that have already occurred in us.

What this chiasm enables us to see more clearly is the relationship between epistemology and metaphysics. Our knowledge is caused, not self-originated. Indeed, there are good arguments for why our knowledge cannot be self-originated (link, link). Metaphysics precedes epistemology in the order of being. Metaphysical regeneration logically precedes epistemological transformation. 

That being said, epistemology logically precedes (or at least has equally primacy with) metaphysics in the order of knowing, for it is only from a correct epistemological foundation that one is able to know metaphysical truths (including the foundation itself, or how one came to know it in the order of his being).

In sum, because symbols, parallels, and structures are patterns in reality, they are reflected in divine revelation. These help us to find meaning in our lives. We ourselves are images of God (Genesis 1:26-27). Thus, as words of God (Revelation 19:9), we can only find meaning in relating ourselves to the Word of God (Christ, Revelation 19:9) by structuring our lives according to the word of God (Scripture, Revelation 22:7).

"Sound" Theology: Parallelisms and the Word[s] of God

There is a consistent parallelism - not only in the rhetoric of Scripture but also in history - in which and in that we find that the teleological functions of the Word of God, word of God, and words of God consistently coordinate. The writers of the New Testament progressively unfold this mystery of these forms of divine "revelation." Christ is the Word of God (John 1:1). Scripture is the word of God (2 Timothy 3:16). Christians are the words of God (Revelation 19:9). 

God's revealed Word, Christ, is the way, truth and life (John 1:18, 14:6, 1 John 1). God's revealed word, Scripture, is the way, truth, and life (Psalm 119:9, 25, 160). This Word and word go hand in hand, because by the latter we are saved by faith in the former (Romans 10:14-17). Indeed, the church itself preaches the latter about the former such that Christians likewise are said to be lights to the world (Matthews 5:14), pillars of truth (1 Timothy 3:15), and envoys of life (Proverbs 13:17). Christians too are God's revealed words, for the church functions as His voice who thunder the truth of the word-Scriptures about the Word-Christ in history (Revelation 19:6-8). 

History itself is the song of the Lord, and we are His instruments (Acts 9:15, 1 Corinthians 14:6-7). He is the true Choirmaster, and Scripture is the sheet music that sets the tone for our lives that are to be lived in righteousness after the pattern of the Word (2 Timothy 1:13). It is no wonder that we see typological, structural, and thematic patterns in Scripture. It is no wonder we see parallels between Christology, ecclesiology, anthropology, cosmology, and so forth (link, link, link). These rhythms depict reality: our own, individual lives are microsonic words in the macrosonic eternal decree of God. The sound of one life in Christ may seem small when compared to the scale of history, but even one life can reverberate and echo in history through its vibrations in the lives one touches. 

Even when we present ourselves as instruments of unrighteousness (Romans 6:13), God's song of history doesn't skip a beat. Every note and word has its place. The music plays out exactly as God orchestrated (Isaiah 55:11) and crescendos at the consummation of the new creation, a new stanza that He inaugurated by the death and resurrection of His Word (Revelation 5:9ff.).

One often hears of people trying to "find their voice." Sanctification is the process by which the church and her members find their voice in history. We become true words of God whose voices the Spirit has, through Scripture, conformed to the sound of the Word. Again we see a coordinated parallel between the "Word" of God in Whom men are sanctified (1 Corinthians 1:30) and the "word[s]" of God through whose ministries (Romans 15:16) of the "word" of truth (John 17:17) men are, by the unifying power of the Spirit, sanctified.

As we become fully assured and aware of who we are in Christ, we grow more bold to become voices in the world, testifying of the Word-Christ by the truth of the word-Scriptures (1 Thessalonians 1:8). Thereby, just as the Holy Spirit sounded out God's word through the apostles and prophets, He too may now sound Christ into the sinner, making the deaf man hear and beginning in him the same work of new creation - albeit on a smaller scale - that will also be completed when the Word will come again (Philippians 1:6).

That is, just as this Word created all things (John 1:1-3) by divine speech, so too the word-bride of this Word-husband was created through His divine speech of Scripture and its gospel about His work for us. In thanks, the church sings when it is able to be helper to her Head in fruitfully bearing many children by the word of this gospel (Isaiah 54, Galatians 4:26-27). 

The individual voices within the church may have different pitches. The individual instruments within the church may be of a different set of strings. But they sing as one choir with one voice the same song, and in their harmony, the melody is accentuated (cf. 1 Corinthians 12:12ff.). When we make a joyful noise to the Lord, He hears us all (Psalm 100).

Book Review: Scripturalism and the Senses (Part 7)

Links to all parts may be found here. This part will contain a review and evaluation of Mr. Lazar's sixth chapter in his book, Scripturalism and the Senses.

As I have now reviewed all the chapters in which Mr. Lazar intended to critique the epistemology and, at times, the larger philosophy of Gordon Clark, I now turn to the second part of the book, in which Mr. Lazar intends to present his own, positive epistemological views. Hopefully, the reviews will become shorter, as much of the material should overlap with chapters Mr. Lazar spent in reviewing Clark's views on the same subjects.

Reformulating the Master Axiom 

In this chapter, Mr. Lazar tries to come up with a “Neo-Scripturalist axiom.” Ironically, I believe what he presents is essentially no different than what Clark himself taught. This is why, as I emphasized in an earlier review (link), Mr. Lazar should not have left it to "historians to debate" whether Clark agreed or disagreed with Crampton, Cheung, or Robbins. It is Clark whose views Mr. Lazar originally intended to evaluate, and he could have spared himself trouble by just sticking to evaluating Clark's views. In so doing, he would have found, I think, that there was little need to "reformulate" the axiom Clark provided. Granted, it doesn't hurt to discuss the most precise way in which to formulate the axiom, but Mr. Lazar should not act as if what he is presenting is novel or new (i.e. neo-Scripturalism).

Setting aside criticisms I've already made, Mr. Lazar's phrasing of his epistemic axiom - "The Bible is the word of God without error, true in all it teaches, affirms, and implies... let the Christian axiom be the truth of the Scriptures" - is quite in line with Clark's own thought. Mr. Lazar is right to note the self-attesting nature of the axiom of revelation: God speaks. God speaks to men. God inspired men to speak. God inspired men to write. What the Bible says, God says (in all of its details). The Bible is true. These are the beginnings of excellent, apologetic defenses for the sufficient epistemic foundation from which we ought to derive any other knowledge-claims (again, of a particular kind, which I will address in a later review).

Mr. Lazar even says, "Strictly speaking, truth is propositional. 'As Clark says, truth is a characteristic of propositions only... This clarifies how Scripture can be true.'" Amen! This indicates that Mr. Lazar does not recommend beginning with a physical, non-propositional text, as I also argued in the above link. But then, if we begin with the propositional revelation of God - and I think interrogatives and imperatives can be understood as propositional (link; although this is a minor aside, so far as I am concerned at present) - then Mr. Lazar really should understand why the "don't you have to read your Bible?" criticisms he himself made earlier are not so troublesome to a Scripturalistic epistemology (even if they may be troublesome for other reasons). Likewise, the criticisms regarding canonical or textual-critical issues (link) cannot be too serious for Clark, for it appears Mr. Lazar does not, after all (and contrary to the implications of his earlier arguments against Clark), appeal to a non-propositional, physical text as his epistemic starting point.

Finally, in one of his footnotes, Mr. Lazar affirms, against Clark, the correspondence theory of truth. I agree with Mr. Lazar (link), and his recommendation to substitute the word "food" for "reality" into one of Clark's quotes to show how it would have been a performative self-contradiction for Clark to eat food was quite clever. One can hold both to a correspondence and coherence view of the nature of truth.

In sum, Mr. Lazar’s problem all along seems to have been with expressions of the axiom of revelation by Crampton, Cheung, etc. - not Clark. It is not so much that Mr. Lazar is returning "to an earlier formulation of the Scripturalist axiom." Rather, it is that he is defending it against oversteps from other admirers of Clark.

In the next part of my review, I will turn to chapter 7, which Mr. Lazar calls What Counts as Knowledge?

Book Review: Scripturalism and the Senses (Part 6)

Links to all parts may be found here. This part will contain a review and evaluation of Mr. Lazar's fifth chapter in his book, Scripturalism and the Senses.

The Test of Hardcore Common Sense (Performative Consistency)

The closing chapter to Part 1 of his book, which has primarily focused on apologetically critiquing Gordon Clark's views, brings up one more test Mr. Lazar believes Clark's epistemology fails. He refers to it as the test of hardcore common sense. The name is a bit unfortunate. It suggests the test has something to do with "common sense," whereas Mr. Lazar quickly distances what he intends to write about from the normal sense of "common sense." Instead, he's concerned about "ultimate presuppositions of practice." Based on what else he writes in the chapter, I suggest that Mr. Lazar refer to this as the test of "livability" or "performative consistency." At any rate, the definition of performative self-contradiction is the following (a part of which I've bolded for reasons I'll return to later): 

A performative self-contradiction is an inconsistency... between a content c which some speaker S claims is true... and at least one presupposition... necessary... to warrant taking S's act of claiming... as a valid act of claiming.

That is, let's say I make a claim. In making the claim, I have implicitly presupposed various things, such as that I can make a claim. It would be a performative self-contradiction for my claim to contradict one of the things I am implicitly presupposing. Mr. Lazar's initial examples are very good ones: "It is self-contradictory - irrational - to argue against the very things presupposed by argumentation. For example, claiming that 'I can't make any claims,' involves a performative self-contradiction." This is an instance, as I mentioned in my last post, that I would like to show more appreciation to Mr. Lazar. I'm glad he is interacting with contemporary philosophers. This is important for the future of Scripturalism (link).

Actions speak louder than words, so to speak. If one's words and actions are implicitly at odds, there is a problem. A few other examples provided are also clear enough: one can't intelligibly question rationality unless one already implicitly presupposes it. One can't begin to think, argue, or make claims without implicitly presupposing the law of non-contradiction. I can't consistently claim I have no blog as I am intentionally typing up a review on one. Etc. So far, so good.

In Mr. Lazar's next section in the chapter, he asks whether living adherence to global agnosticism a performative self-contradiction. That is, suppose one is an agnostic. As Clark says, "The agnostic simply does not know. He does not know that there are no truths; merely does not know which propositions are true." (A Christian Philosophy of Education, pg. 34). Mr. Lazar wants to know 1) if agnostic philosophy is livable or 2) whether the agnostic qua agnostic is a walking, talking performative self-contradiction. 

Mr. Lazar thinks the latter is the case, that "his philosophy is unlivable because he must live as if he wasn't agnostic." Before we proceed, let us recall the definition of a performative self-contradiction requires a situation in which "a content c which some speaker S claims is true." Remember what it is that an agnostic claims: he simply claims that he does not know. Must, then, an agnostic live as if he knows things to be true? Mr. Lazar seems to cite the following argument by Clark as an affirmative response to this question (emphasis mine):

As Augustine long ago pointed out, when such a man eats his dinner he believes that it is probably better to eat than starve. He does not know that he will escape starvation, but he believes that he has a better chance of survival if he eats. Neither does he know that survival is better than starvation: but he believe so. More to the point, he may say that he neither asserts nor denies the existence of God. But his actual daily life is lived in conformity with the one postulate or the other. (Clark, A Christian Philosophy of Education, pgs. 34-35)

I don't see how this argument by Clark supports Mr. Lazar's contention that an agnostic commits a performative self-contradiction. Actually, it seems as though this Clark quote says that an agnostic is living consistently with his claim. The agnostic doesn't make a claim to know as true that he will escape starvation, although he would make a claim to believe as true that he has a better chance of survival if he eats; hence, he eats. To me, the agnostic's eating is consistent with his belief-claim. An agnostic can live on the belief something is or could be true without claiming to know something is true. Again, I see no performative self-contradiction here. This corresponds to a Clark quote I've cited in another review:

Although not usually recognized as such, a certain claim to infallibility meets us in our everyday affairs. When an accountant balances his books, does he not assume that his figures are correct? When a college professor hurries to class for fear that his students will disappear if he is late, does he not make judgments as to the time of day and the proclivities of students? When a chess club challenges another to a match, does any suspicion of fallibility impede its action? Cannot this club distinguish the dogma ecclesiastica that there actually is another club from the dogma haeretica that no other club exists? Must not all people act on the assumption that their beliefs are true? (Karl Barth's Theological Method, 1997, pg. 146)

Granting Clark's above line of reasoning that I have argued elsewhere as well (link), I could agree with Mr. Lazar that one who claims he suspends belief or judgment on all matters would be committing a performative self-contradiction. But I do not immediately understand why one must make a knowledge-claim to avoid a performative self-contradiction. Mr. Lazar says, "the Scripturalist must live as if he knows the very things that he denies" (emphasis mine). Clark's reply is - "no, I must live as if the things I believe are true."

For example, why must I know Mr. Lazar exists to believe I'm interacting with him? Indeed, what if Mr. Lazar doesn't exist, or that my idea of who Mr. Lazar is does not correspond to reality? What if the biography I read of him were a fabrication? Surely this is possible? I may assume my belief in Mr. Lazar's existence and biography is true and write blog posts on that basis, but why does my reviews of Mr. Lazar's book presuppose that I know he wrote a book rather than that I merely believe that he wrote one? 

While I would like to see Mr. Lazar's argument spelled out a bit more, perhaps there is something wrong with global agnosticism and performative self-contradictions. I hope others take it upon themselves to consider this question, as I will (even though I think global agnosticism is problematic for other reasons, e.g. an agnostic can never have full assurance, is therefore practically condemned to a life of self-doubt, etc.). But for now, let's assume this for the sake of argument. 

Even if we do this, because Scripturalists are not global agnostics, it seems we must return to the question of whether individual instances of agnosticism are problematic. And this seems to be what Mr. Lazar is, after all, concerned with anyway. He criticizes Scripturalists for "appeals to extra-Biblical knowledge to show that we cannot have extra-Biblical knowledge," and the first example he uses is of Clark's book Thales to Dewey. Was it a performative self-contradiction for Clark write a book about extra-biblical information? Is it a performative self-contradiction for a Scripturalist to refer to Clark's book? 

Again, I don't see how. If Clark believed that there were other philosophers or if I believe there is a Clark book (all of which are indeed extra-biblical), does that mean I cannot consistently act upon that belief unless I claim to know it? Not at all. This takes us back to the question of whether Mr. Lazar really thinks I must know he exists as his biography describes him in order to consistently review his book. 

And I cannot think that this is the case, for Mr. Lazar would be asking me to claim more than can be known... unless he is speaking about "knowledge" in a certain, externalist third-person sense, rather than in the sense in which Clark speaks of knowledge when he does (link; once again, this illustrates the importance of defining one's terms, especially in the context of one's [meta]epistemology). But even if Mr. Lazar is speaking this way, one needn't be aware of the externalist knowledge he has; even on externalist accounts of knowledge, I still may not know that Mr. Lazar exists as his biography describes him (because, once again, such might not be true). In fact, on some externalist accounts of knowledge, one cannot know that one has externalist knowledge. That's a second-order knowledge that is not necessary. But an extended discussion of this would, I think, take us a bit farther off track than is necessary, especially since the main defense I describe in this post regarding the performative consistency in acting upon one's beliefs seems to suffice. I can, however, elaborate on what I am saying here if anyone is that interested.

Returning to that main line of defense, we might ask if it a performative self-contradiction for Mr. Lazar to get various kinds of short-term insurances (life, car, house, jewelry, etc.)? I think not. We do such things precisely because we don’t know if we will die, have accidents, lose our property or have it stolen, etc. And it’s eminently reasonable to live that way, because a corollary of epistemic contentedness is epistemic humility. We don't know it all and can't (or shouldn't) act as if we do.

Let us even suppose that Mr. Lazar does not exist after all. Or let's suppose that none of the philosophers Clark mentioned ever existed. Does that mean that this blog or Thales to Dewey have become pointless enterprises? No, for the same reason (as I referenced in my last review) that I gave long ago when discussing the usefulness of opinion, i.e. of belief without knowledge:

If I cannot know that I am in dialogue, why can it seem that way? If I am going to be consistent with Scripturalism, I must indeed admit I am opining any conversation; however - and this is the point - the purpose of epistemology is not so much a justification of one's beliefs to others as it is to oneself. Self-realized problems with various epistemologies or one's own epistemology may be introduced through the medium of opinion... When one considers that one's opinions are the ultimate products of God, and that God causes everything for a reason, it is not surprising that Scripturalists should venture into alleged communication: to measure what is opined against God's word. (link)

We can look at the interactions we have in our lives as "if-then" encounters. If Augustine had a "theory of recollection," then it is reasonable for Clark to talk about it as Augustine's theory. Even if Augustine did not exist, he can still talk about the theory itself, and the benefit of associating it with "Augustine" is still that people know Clark is referring to one particular theory of "recollection rather than some other. It's the ideas that matter, not their genesis. We may act as if something is true, but even if it is not, it was still put in our lives for a divinely ordained reason. There is, therefore, no performative self-contradiction in a Scripturalist acting upon his beliefs (even if there is one for the global agnostic), for his beliefs account for both possibilities.

That is, Scripturalism does not fail this final test Mr. Lazar mentions. It has passed each one, even if - as Mr. Lazar and myself would agree - there are some areas for improvement upon Clark's philosophy as a whole.

[A small disagreement I didn't know where else to put: I would side with Clark in regarding axioms or presuppositions as chosen. Due to performative self-contradictions, it seems Mr. Lazar infers that some axioms can't be chosen. He says, "although you can choose some axioms, you must presuppose others in order to argue about anything at all - including arguing about axioms." But arguing is a choice. By definition, a performative self-contradiction requires a claim to be made. One may choose not to argue at all, in which case there seems to be no explicit claim against which to compare one's implicit [performative] presuppositions. 

Even if we extended performative self-contradictions to apply thoughts in addition to explicit, argued claims - which is more along the lines of the necessary [and perhaps ontological] preconditions for knowledge I mentioned in my last review - I do think Clark was correct to say that axioms are chosen. In fact, the very possibility of "contradiction" presupposes choice. Otherwise, our acting in such a way as to not be in conformity with truth would be by nature. This can't be, as it would be an insurmountable problem to a doctrine of divine goodness. 

Additionally, I suspect another problem may arise given Mr. Lazar's view that some axioms are not chosen. Does Mr. Lazar think we begin with one axiom or many? If the former, mustn't it be chosen (and sufficient)? If the latter, is that an indication that Mr. Lazar thinks we are supposed to infer what would be a sufficiency of axioms? Perhaps I am reading too much into his thought that we can choose some axioms and not others, but I would be wary of the parable of the bundle of sticks that I mentioned in my last post.]

In the next part of my review, I will turn to chapter 6, which Mr. Lazar calls Reformulating the Master Axiom.