Sola fide: Does Christianity always promote morality?

July 22, 2015 • 12:00 pm

When I was chatting with Linda Calhoun at the goat dairy, she brought up the “justification by faith, not works” issue as an argument against religion. What kind of God, she argued, would forgive someone who lived a life that harmed others (Hitler is the classic example), if that person simply confessed on his deathbed that he accepted Jesus as a personal savior?

The doctrine of Sola Fide, or “justificationism” (sole justification and forgiveness by faith, not by one’s deeds) is one of the five solas of many—but not all—Christian sects, and is summed up by Wikipedia:

Historic Protestantism (both Lutheran and Reformed) has held to sola-fide justification in opposition to Roman Catholicism especially, but also in opposition to significant aspects of Eastern Orthodoxy. Protestants exclude all human works (except the works of Jesus Christ, which form the basis of justification) from the legal verdict (or pardon) of justification. In the General Council of Trent the Catholic Church stated in canon XIV on justification that “If any one saith, that man is truly absolved from his sins and justified, because that he assuredly believed himself absolved and justified; or, that no one is truly justified but he who believes himself justified; and that, by this faith alone, absolution and justification are effected; let him be anathema (excommunicated).” Thus, “faith alone” is foundational to Protestantism, and distinguishes it from other Christian denominations. According to Martin Luther, justification by faith alone is the article on which the church stands or falls.

Some brands of Christianity reject the doctrine. Catholics, for example, claim that if you have the requisite faith in Jesus, you will necessarily do good works and lead a moral life, and if you don’t, mere confession on your deathbed won’t keep you from frying. But other churches adhere pretty strictly to the doctrine—with some theological waffling, of course. Here are some statements of church doctrine used to justify sola fide:

Anglican

Article XI
Of the Justification of Man
We are accounted righteous before God, only for the merit of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ by faith, and not for our own works or deservings. Wherefore that we are justified by faith only is a most wholesome doctrine, and very full of comfort; as more largely is expressed in the Homily of Justification.

Thirty-nine Articles of Religion (1571)

Lutheran[edit]

Article IV Of Justification

Our churches by common consent…teach that men cannot be justified before God by their own strength, merits, or works, but are freely justified for Christ’s sake, through faith, when they believe that they are received into favor, and that their sins are forgiven for Christ’s sake, who, by His death, has made satisfaction for our sins. This faith God imputes for righteousness in His sight. Rom. 3 and 4.

Augsburg Confession, 1530

Southern Baptist

Baptist Faith and Message – 2000

Article IV, sub-article B.
Justification is God’s gracious and full acquittal upon principles of His righteousness of all sinners who repent and believe in Christ. Justification brings the believer unto a relationship of peace and favor with God.

United Methodist[edit]

We believe we are never accounted righteous before God through our works or merit, but that penitent sinners are justified or accounted righteous before God only by faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.

Article IX—Justification and Regeneration (The Discipline of The Evangelical United Brethren Church 1963)

After Linda mentioned this, I realized that sola fide, besides being morally repugnant to us today (seriously, would God forgive Hitler if he confessed?), has another implication: it destroys the argument that religion promotes morality. After all, if, as many Christians aver, simple acceptance of Jesus as one’s savior is sufficient to get you to heaven—and works don’t count at all—what motivation is there to do good? (Remember that religion is supposed to provide the motivation that atheists lack, which is why we supposedly have no impetus to be moral.)

Now a believer may argue, in response, that if you accept Jesus you will naturally be a moral person and do good. That is the Catholic Church’s argument. But remember that sola fide claims that ONLY  faith, and not deeds, matters when it comes to salvation. You can lead a moral and exemplary life, helping all kinds of people, but if you’re a heathen or a Jew, sola fide damns you to perdition.

Perhaps I’m missing something here, but it seems to me that those sects that embrace sola fide provide no genuine impetus to be moral, but in fact give you a loophole that allows you to live as immorally as you want and still sing with the choir invisible—something that secular humanists don’t have.

I know there are former adherents of those faiths here, so tell me: doesn’t sola fide argue against religion being a source of morality, at least in those sects? (Of course the Euthyphro Argument blows any argument for religiously-derived morality out of the water.)

Proof of Mr. Tickle

July 14, 2015 • 8:00 am

Sophisticated Theologians™ try to pretend otherwise, but a lot of the “evidence” for God is just like this:

MrTickle

 

And while we’re on the topic of graphic depictions of religious logic (an oxymoron if ever there was one), here’s an old chestnut that I just love, for it sums up in four crudely-drawn panels one of the prime (non)arguments for God. In fact, after my talk in Aspen one questioner asserted the argument in the last panel:

tumblr_kttrhgPRzK1qzxzwwo1_400

h/t: John W.

Tanya Luhrmann: Christian prohibition against premarital sex has its benefits

July 7, 2015 • 10:30 am

For reasons best known to the editors of the New York Times, they continue to give Tanya Luhrmann a paycheck (supplementing her funding from the Templeton Foundation) to write an apologetics column on evangelical Christianity.  While refusing to divulge her own religious beliefs (she’s an anthropologist, after all), she tells the rest of us why we should have sympathy for the delusions of Christians who talk to God.

Now, in a new piece, “The appeal of Christian piety“, whose title is self-explanatory, Luhrmann chastises the rest of us secularists who mock or criticize the evangelical Christian cult of “purity” and fear of premarital sex. This is not an anthropological report, but simple apologetics. In particular, Luhrmann is enthusiastic about a fairly new (published last November) book on Christian sexuality:

A recent book on evangelical sexuality gives this Christian insistence on the reinterpretation of experience a particular bite. “Saving Sex: Sexuality and Salvation in American Evangelicalism,” by Amy DeRogatis, an associate professor of religion and American culture at Michigan State University, describes the surprisingly rich and briskly selling literature of evangelical sex manuals.

I’m not sure what “surprisingly rich,” means, but it’s surely not “rational”.  Here are the main points of Christian sexuality as Luhrmann sees them. At first her descriptions seem like criticisms, but it turns out they’re plaudits:

It encourages “purity”.

Some of these manuals call on women to stay pure until marriage. (A 2008 documentary, “Virgin Daughters,” claimed that one in six girls in America takes a purity pledge.) They describe a world in which young girls in evening gowns take their fathers as their date to purity balls, and publicly commit to remaining virgins until they find a “gallant and godly husband” of whom their fathers approve.

The authors of what Ms. DeRogatis calls “the princess purity books” present as empowering a young woman’s decision to leave all decisions in the hands of others.

That’s “empowering”? I thought it was empowering to make your own decisions!

It encourages submission to one’s husband. As Lurhmann says,

What Ms. DeRogatis calls the “helpmeet” literature, by contrast, celebrates sex with one’s husband — but does not portray that husband as a fairy-tale prince. In fact, the books admit that sometimes he is loathsome. But they insist that God has given the husband the job of leading the family and that it is the wife’s role to accept this. “It is far better that the job be done poorly by your husband,” one book explains (in bold), “than it be done well by you.” When a wife accepts her man as he is, the books say, she feels God’s grace. She has become a warrior wife.

This kind of language infuriates secular observers, who say these ideas are not only antiquated but can even be harmful.

. . . Add to that the fact that this literature portrays feminism as a menace to godly families, and you can see why secular observers see nothing here that empowers women.

One would think Luhrmann would sympathize with those critical secularists, but guess what? She doesn’t! That’s curious in the face of her admission that not only are half of the purity pledges broken, but the rate of sexually transmitted diseases is higher among “pledgers,” who don’t take proper precautions during sex.

Luhrmann’s point is that if women choose to make their sexuality and sex lives subordinate to religious dictates, that’s a form of empowerment. After all, Muslim women choose to wear the veil:

And yet there is an appeal in this kind of piety. The act of submission, when consciously chosen, can feel empowering, and even politically empowering. Anthropologists have seen these dynamics among Muslim women. In the 1990s, when young women in Java increasingly chose to wear veils, despite the harassment and mockery of others, the anthropologist Suzanne A. Brenner set out to understand why. She found that they saw themselves as activists: as people who were creating a new social order, free of the corruption of the West. They saw themselves as modern but godly. Choosing to submit to Islamic law made them feel powerful, independent and effective. It gave them a sense of control.

It may look to secular readers as if these women who think they are being empowered are merely deluded. But that’s not how they understand themselves.

I wonder, if that kind of submission is so empowering, why do so many Iranian women take off the veil when it’s “No Veil Day”, why do so many Saudi women want to drive, and why do so many Muslim woman, at risk to their lives, protest their second-class status as chattel and breeder cattle? Could it be that Luhrmann is mistaking childhood indoctrination as voluntary submission? This is religion-coddling doublespeak—submission is empowerment! Adherence to ancient norms of behavior is radical!:

Just as some newly observant Muslims see themselves as political activists, the evangelical women who buy the Christian sex manuals are also led to see themselves as political activists. Ms. DeRogatis writes: “Young people are told that they are standing up for Christ and resisting America’s sexualized culture by claiming virginity as a countercultural, radical stance.” Their choice to submit is a choice to create a new social order from within.

Indeed, that may be partly true, but it’s still screwed up, for you could consider any retrograde, pro-religious stance, like denying rights to gays, as a form of political activism that stands up to modernity (or even America’s “sexualized culture,” which includes acceptance of homosexuality).

And if you want to see something truly disturbing, especially in view of the fact that this stuff appears as a regular column in the Times, read Luhrmann’s ending, where she extols the rise of evangelical Christianity and imputes it in part to this kind of “radical” sexuality:

Evangelical churches are gaining converts more rapidly than they are losing any who grew up in the tradition. I’ve always thought that the primary appeal of these churches was the vivid immediacy of their God. The sex manuals remind us that another factor is the sense of being a countercultural activist who sets out to remake the world.

That’s heady stuff. The mainstream churches offer nothing like this edgy rebellion, this nose-thumbing at ordinary expectations. Paradoxically, it may be this invitation that makes what seems like passivity feel so effective.

“Heady stuff”? Maybe in Luhrmann’s world, but not in the world of enlightened people. What we have here is simple apologetics, and an inversion of worldview that makes Luhrmann see repression and submission as “radical acts.”

I’m not sure why the Times continues to publish this kind of stuff, but I do know this: they should allow a secularist the same type of column to counteract the drivel regularly peddled by Luhrmann.

An atheist English professor finds Jesus because the Bible “rings true” as literature

May 15, 2015 • 10:30 am

If you’ve followed the saga of Ana Marie Cox, famous for her political blogging as “Wonkette,” and now a writer for the Guardian, you’ll know that she was once a nonbeliever but then embraced Christianity. (See my post about it here). After her conversion, though, Cox was afraid of pushback from both atheists and (especially) Christians; but she was much gratified to find instead an outpouring of support from both sides (see her video on the topic here).

This puts me in a bit of a dilemma. I mean, if Cox has found happiness in believing in a fictional story of Jesus, and was unhappy before, then fine. Cox doesn’t seem to be the kind of person who will try to impose her faith on others, or push for anti-abortion or anti-gay-marriage laws. But it still bothers me that someone as savvy and smart as she suddenly throws herself into the arms of God, and for no good reason.

But reason, it seems, had little to do with it. I wonder if people would be so warm and kind if Cox had embraced, say, Scientology, Raëlism, or the cargo cults of Melanesia. (You know they wouldn’t: they’d say she was nuts.)

But I digress. Yet another erstwhile nonbeliever has embraced Christianity, or so reports the website Thomistic Bent.  In this case it’s Dr. Holly Ordway, a professor of English at Houston Baptist University. She’s written a book about her conversion, Not God’s Type: An Atheist Academic Lays Down Her Arms.

What is interesting about Ordway’s conversion is the reason, recounted in a passage from the website Thomistic Bent (I haven’t read her book):

Ordway had carefully built up a defense, but not so careful as to protect her mind from the ideas of the great English poets. She speaks of being surprised by such writers as John Keats, John Donne, and Gerard Manley Hopkins, men who wrote of a beautiful concept: hope. A day of hope . . . was there such a day to hope for?

The rest of Ordway’s book tells of her meeting a fencing coach that she trusted, a person who she did not discover was a Christian until after she had begun working with him. He and his wife merely answered her questions, not pressing anything religious on her. She is intellectually honest enough to investigate the sources . . . When she asks for reasonable works on the resurrection of Jesus, she is given N. T. Wright’s The Resurrection of the Son of God, 740 pages of scholarly examination. She reads Lewis’ Surprised By Joy, and Does God Exist? by Kreeft and Moreland, among others.

[JAC: Can we just admit that there is no evidence for the truth of the Jesus story save in the pages of scripture? All “scholarly” and “reasonable” work substantiating that story is just Biblical exegesis fueled by wish-thinking.]

Both Ordway and C. S. Lewis were credentialed professors of literature before becoming Christian. Both were committed atheists who had created intellectual defenses against belief in Jesus. Later in her story, Ordway writes, “I read through the Gospel narratives again, trying to take in what they said. I had to admit that — even apart from everything else I had learned — I recognized that they were fact, not story. I’d been steeped in folklore, fantasy, legend, and myth ever since I was a child, and I had studied these literary genres as an adult; I knew their cadences, their flavor, their rhythm. None of these stylistic fingerprints appeared in the New Testament books that I was reading.” (p.117)

So what brought Ordway around was her expertise as an English professor, which enabled her to see that the Bible (or at least the New Testament) looked not like fiction, but fact! I’m stunned. This is affirmed by the website writer:

So here we have a trained, experienced, atheist professor of literature, who if anything knows a myth when she sees it, declaring that it is not such, but rather “The Gospels had the ineffable texture of history, with all the odd clarity of detail that comes when the author is recounting something so huge that even as he tells it, he doesn’t see all the implications.” (p.117) Like Lewis, who was a professor of literature at Oxford and Cambridge, Ordway made the conclusion of an expert in literature, that the New Testament has all the signs of an eyewitness account.

“I know a myth when I see one, and the Bible ain’t myth!”

Now this is just bizarre, and for many reasons. First of all, the Bible as a whole, and the New Testament, are full of things that simply can’t be true. Putting aside the numerous inconsistencies between the Gospels about the crucifixion and resurrection (all the results of “eyewitness accounts”), we have the palpable falsities like the census of Caesar Augustus and the account in Matthew of Herod’s execution of children. There are no extra-Biblical historical records of the earthquakes, rending of the Temple veil, and rising of saints from their tomb at the Crucifixion. Surely that should appear somewhere outside the Bible! (For a list of Biblical contradictions and inaccuracies, see here and here).

Further, prophecies in the Bible simply haven’t come true. Perhaps the most famous is Jesus’s repeated insistence that he would come into his kingdom, as would his apostles, during the lifetimes of people who witnessed his death. That hasn’t happened.

And what about the Old Testament? That doesn’t read so differently from the New Testament, at least in terms of factual assertions. Does that, too, “ring true”? Or does it lack the cadences, rhythms, and flavor of truth? If not, then it’s even more bizarre, for the factual inaccuracies of the Old Testament, beginning with Genesis and going through the exodus of the Jews, are well known. What does Ordway say about that? And if the Old Testament is largely fictional, how can it presage the New?

And what about other religious gospels, like the Qur’an, the Book of Mormon, the Epic of Gilgamesh, and so on? I would love for Dr. Ordway to show me why the New Testament has a “ring of truth” lacking in, say, the Book of Mormon. And does she think that all of the New Testament is true? If so, which of the accounts of the Resurrection is the right one? They can’t all be true, as they’re contradictory. Who, exactly, was in or near the tomb when it was open, and to whom did the resurrected Jesus appear?

I’m used to believers accepting Christianity because it strikes an emotional chord with them. That, after all, is the message of William James’s The Varieties of Religious Experience. But this is the first time I’ve seen Christianity validated, and someone converted, because, compared to all other religious myths, the New Testament rings true to someone trained in English literature. (I wonder if the New Testament sounds different in Greek?) That is, a Ph.D. in English literature, and subsequent teaching of that literature, apparently gives someone the credibility to assert that the New Testament is plain fact.

Dr. Ordway (Photo credit: Michael Timms)
Dr. Ordway (Photo credit: Michael Timms)

Articles: odds and ends

May 11, 2015 • 9:45 am

Professor Ceiling Cat is a bit low today for reasons I’ll describe in the next post. The upshot is that my brain hurts and I have nothing substantive to say, at least for a few hours. In light of that lacuna, let me call your attention to three articles that you may want to read.

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The first is Brother Jeffrey Tayler’s regular Sunday Sermon in Salon, a feature that you should be looking for and, though I don’t sanction Church Replacements for atheists, this beats all of them. As usual, it’s larded with anti-theism, but also with sound arguments for why we should be afraid of even “moderate” Islam. Tayler’s piece is “The left has Islam all wrong: Bill Maher, Pamela Geller and the reality progressives must face.” His subject is the first six words of the title: how progressives have had their brains co-opted by the “Islamophobia” meme because of our otherwise admirable concern for the oppressed. He suggests, and I now agree, that we need to dispense completely with the word “Islamophobia,” and when we see it we must press those who use it to describe exactly what they mean. The term, after all, has become a grab-bag for disparate issues, including dislike of Islam, dislike of individual Muslims (which can be justified if they espouse bad things), and general, unjustified bigotry of people simply because they’re Muslims.

Here are few excerpts, and we should all absorb this first one—especially the second paragraph (my emphasis):P

The canonical glorification of death for the sake Islam, or martyrdom, similarly belies those who would argue that the religion’s nature is pacific.  If you, as a progressive, do not believe in the veracity of the Quran, then you have to accept Arthur C. Clarke’s diagnosis of those who “would rather fight to the death than abandon their illusions” as complying with the criteria of “the operational definition of insanity.”  Insanity hardly engenders peace.

All those who, à la Reza Aslan, maintain that Muslims today do not necessarily read the Quran literally have lost the argument before it begins. What counts is that there are those (ISIS, say, and al-Qaida) who do, and they are taking action based on their beliefs.  To the contention, “ISIS and al-Qaida don’t represent Islam!” the proper response is, “that’s what you say.  They disagree.”  No single recognized Muslim clerical body exists to refute them.

and this:

This is no call to disrespect Muslims as people, but we should not hesitate to speak frankly about the aspects of their faith we find problematic.  But it’s not up to progressives to suggest how an ideology based on belief without evidence might be reformed.  Rather, we should cease relativizing and proudly espouse, as alternatives to blind obedience to ancient texts, reason, progress, consensus-based solutions, and the wonderful panoply of other Enlightenment ideals underpinning our Constitution and the liberties characterizing Western countries.

. . . In doing as he urges [the call of Charlie Hebdo editor Gérard Biard to keep debating, writing, and satirizing religion], we will give the terrorists too many targets to attack and convince them that we will not surrender, not cede an inch.  That means the media needs to begin showing Charlie Hedbo’s Muhammad cartoons.  We must stop traducing reason by branding people “Islamophobes,” and start celebrating our secularism, remembering that only it offers true freedom for the religious and non-religious alike.  And we should reaffirm our humanistic values, in our conviction that we have, as Carlyle wrote, “One life – a little gleam of time between two eternities,” and need to make the most of it for ourselves and others while we can.  There is nothing else.

If Tayler isn’t yet a “horseman” (horseperson?), he’s got one foot in the stirrup.

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The other day, a friend told me she was an admirer of Karen Armstrong, and was about to start reading Fields of Blood, Armstrong’s widely-lauded book whose theme is that religion has never given rise to anything bad—ever. Anything that superficially looks like religiously-engendered violence, like the 9/11 terrorism, is, to Armstrong, the result of colonialism, disaffection, or other “political” factors. Just as Steve Gould defined “religion” tautologically in Rocks of Ages so that it could never say anything about reality (stuff like creationism he dismissed as “not real religion”), so Armstrong sees any religious views promoting terrorism as “not canonical religion”.  It’s a duplicitous and tautological ploy, but because Armstrong writes what people want to hear (religion is benign at worst, but usually helpful), people osculate her rump.

The cure for the common but dangerous desire to apply one’s lips to Armstrong’s gluteus—a disease known as Tippett’s Syndrome—is, as I told my friend, to read David Nirenberg’s new, long, and critical review of her book in The Nation,Power and piety.” There Nirenberg calls out Armstrong for her rhetorical trickery and double standards vis-à-vis politics vs. religion. I’m curious why other reviewers haven’t picked up on this, but of course many are blinkered by “belief in belief”. The review is mandatory reading for anyone who’s read, admired, or is contemplating reading Fields of Blood. I can give only one except; do read Nirenberg’s whole article:

Armstrong’s argument is simple: “From the first, it seems, large-scale organized violence was linked not with religion but with organized theft.” By “organized theft,” she means the activities of the kings, aristocrats, warriors, and other leaders of the agrarian societies that began to appear in written records in Mesopotamia in the third millennium bce. In other words, not religion but politics—the struggle for power to seize the fruits of others’ labor—has always been responsible for violence. Yet in making this claim, Armstrong draws the very distinction between religion and nonreligion that she insists cannot be made before the modern period. This is a substantial inconsistency (Cavanaugh would call it incoherent), but it needn’t necessarily compromise her broader argument, which seems to be, here and throughout the book, that religion only becomes complicit with violence when it is captured and deformed by politics, or when believers are oppressed by injustice, poverty, and violence, or, more recently, when the faithful are humiliated by atheists.

According to this argument, in their origins and essences, religions are a benign and fundamental source of empathy, love of the other, and cognitive comfort in an otherwise incomprehensible cosmos. “The world’s great religious traditions share as one of their most essential tenets the imperative of treating others as one would wish to be treated oneself,” Armstrong writes. If religious movements become violent, it is either because they are driven to extreme measures by oppression and injustice, or because their teachings have been misinterpreted and so are blasphemous and not truly religious.

As an example, consider Armstrong’s account of the religious attitudes of Mohamed Atta and his accomplices in the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center and other targets. “The hijackers themselves certainly regarded the 9/11 atrocities as a religious act but one that bore very little resemblance to normative Islam.” (Armstrong’s grammar here is confusing; what she means is that although the hijackers understood their Islam as normative, according to her interpretation it was not.) True, the hijackers prayed constantly and repeatedly recited certain passages of the Koran during the attack, but according to Armstrong their thought must be categorized as “magical,” “primitive,” “superstitious,” or “psychotic” rather than “religious,” because it does not achieve what she understands as “the principal imperative of Islamic spirituality”: tawhid, or making one. The terrorists divided their mission into segments, whereas “Muslims truly understand the unity of God only if they integrate all their activities and thoughts.”

Armstrong’s point is that although Atta and his colleagues may have thought of themselves as religious, their actions proved them to be blasphemous and paranoid. We need not accept her definition of “true Islam” as total “integration” of all thoughts and actions, a definition that seems bizarre. By this standard, very few if any humans of any faith could be considered truly religious. But even if we were to reject her definition and pinpoint the ways in which Atta’s faith contributed to his acts, Armstrong would simply regard such complicity as proof of a (perhaps misguided) Muslim response to “the structural violence of the American-dominated Middle East.” Armstrong is fond of the phrase “structural violence,” by which she seems to mean something like the inequality created by political power, which is to say, oppression.

This is more or less the same tactic used by Gould to exculpate religion in Rocks of Ages.

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Finally, one of our readers, John Farrell, as written an analysis of Catholic dogma on evolution for Aeon magazine: “Still seeking Omega.” (Omega, you may recall, is the teleological “goal” of theistic evolution envisioned by Catholic theologian Teilhard de Chardin.) Farrell runs through the history of the Vatican’s love-hate relationship with evolution, noting that the only “official” statement about it comes from Pope Pius XII’s 1950 document Humani Generis, which reaffirms the historicity of Adam and Eve as the actual physical progenitors of all modern humans. (I discuss this inFaith vs. Fact.)

This, of course, creates a tension between science and the Vatican, for no scientist believes that the human species was ever as small as two individuals, much less the eight on Noah’s Ark (genetic evidence rules this out completely).  While some later Popes issued “nonbinding” opinions that either promote or criticize evolution, Catholic doctrine as it stands flies in the face of science—something regularly ignored by accommodationists.  By desperately trying to comport Adam and Eve with the facts, some Catholic theologians are skirting that doctrine.

The upshot is that the Church is confused about what to say about evolution, but can’t quite bring itself to endorse the facts, much less give up its silly view that humans differ from other species by possessing an immortal soul.  Farrell sees this reluctance to embrace evolution as dangerous to the Church, and a cause for its attrition in many places. I’m not sure I agree about the reasons for attrition (the Church’s retrograde views on sexuality, marriage, and abortion surely must contribute), but I do agree with Farrell on the intellectual vacuity of accepting Adam and Eve in an age of science:

Perhaps in the end, the Vatican cannot integrate evolutionary science because it really is too threatening. It would require a thoughtful reinterpretation of the Church’s understanding of the doctrine of original sin – the fundamental idea that Adam and Eve’s epic act of disobedience wounded human nature for all who came after.  Theologians from St Paul and St Augustine down to the present day have viewed the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth as God’s ultimate response – the redemption for this sin.

Can such a theology be maintained within an evolutionary understanding of human origins? The few, scattered Catholic theologians exploring the issue largely believe that it can. But the Vatican’s long silence on the question suggests that it doesn’t agree.

And there’s a price to be paid for stalling. Millions of people are walking away from the Church. Not just because of the clerical abuse scandal, and not just because of disagreement over points of morality such as gay marriage or abortion. But because the Church no longer speaks to people in a way that is meaningful to humanity in this scientific age.

The result is a slow but steady implosion. The Church is slowly collapsing from within, in a sort of progressive diminution. ‘Instead of evolving, it is devolving,’ Delio writes, ‘its very presence is thinning out to the extent that in some areas of the world, such as parts of western Europe, it is dissolving into history.’

The Church has accepted the Big Bang, the start of the world’s evolutionary journey – but this isn’t enough. It must follow in Teilhard’s footsteps. Unless it embraces not just the evolution of the Universe, but the evolution of all life, including humans, and reclaims a truly cosmic view in which the faith makes sense, the Church is pulling the wool over its own eyes as its people continue to file out the door.

I suggest that the last thing the Church wants to do is follow exactly in Teilhard’s footsteps, since he envisioned a teleological, goal-directed view of evolution that contradicts everything we know about the process.

A flea goes after my credentials

May 7, 2015 • 8:45 am

One of the most common attacks on non-theologians who criticize religion is that we aren’t professional theologians, or that we haven’t fully marinated ourselves in the tedious lucubrations of people like Duns Scotus or Tertullian. This, of course, is basically an ad hominem argument, dismissing criticisms of religion based on the writer’s perceived lack of credentials. And, as you know, I spent over two years reading this stuff, so it’s not like I’m thrashing about blindly in the muck of theology.

The refutation, of course, is simple: a lack of professional training in an area doesn’t mean that your statements about that area can be completely disregarded. (I wonder if Sean Carroll, who talks a lot about philosophy and theology, gets this kind of email?) This is especially true for theology, in which expertise is demonstrated not by mastering knowledge about the divine, but mastering speculations that other people have made about the divine. As ex-preacher Dan Barker likes to say, “Theology is a subject without an object. Theologians don’t study God; they study what other theologians have said about God.” So it’s perfectly proper to point out the lack of evidence undergirding the whole attempt to understand gods and their ways, as well as logical fallacies that any sentient person can spot in many theological arguments, Sophisticated™ or not.

We biologists understand that. When a philosopher-theologian like Alvin Plantinga says, for instance, that natural selection could never have given humans the ability to have true beliefs, we don’t dismiss him by saying, “Oh, pooh! Where’s Plantinga’s formal training in evolution?” Rather, we calmly take apart his claims, as I do in Faith versus Fact. Ditto for accommodationists like John Haught, who regularly writes about evolution. In fact, some of Haught’s writings on the topic, like his critiques of intelligent design, are perfectly fine. Other theologians, like William Lane Craig, regularly make statements about science that would embarrass a first-year graduate student in physics or biology, but I’ve never heard his claims dismissed solely because he lacks formal training in science.

Nevertheless, when my book comes out I fully expect that the faithful will go after it on grounds of  insufficient expertise, as this professor of philosophy—at a Catholic college in Florida—did in an email to me yesterday.

Dr. Coyne,
Good afternoon. I have come across your lecture where you extensively address not only theology but morality at length. Do you have any training whatsoever in theology or philosophy?

What are your qualifications in these fields? I have searched extensively to see if you are one of the leading figures in these fields of study and have not come across anything so far.

Please point me to the right place so that I can understand why you are an expert in the history of philosophy.

Thanks,
Miguel Arechavaleta
Professor of Philosophy
Barry University

Such passive-aggressive snark! I didn’t answer this flea, of course, as it’s a waste of time. He would just try to continue the exchange, and, with such rudeness, he doesn’t deserve a response. But I’m putting up the email here so that the commentariat can address his implicit argument in the comments. I’ll then just send him the link.