Do We Want a Shepherd's Christmas?

I've been reading Luther's Christmas Sermons in hopes of finding some Christmas sanity. This is what I found:

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night." That was a mean job, watching flocks by night. Common sense calls it low-down work, and men who do it are regarded as trash. But ... the angels ... proclaimed their message only to shepherds watching their flock by night.... They were pure in heart and content with their work, no aspiring to be townsmen or nobles, nor envious of the mighty. Next to faith this is the highest art--to be content.

Oh for some Christmas contentment! But I wasn't convinced that Luther was right about these shepherds. How did he know that the shepherds weren't envious of the townsmen. But I read on:

Who would have thought that men whose job was tending unreasoning animals would be so praised that not a pope or a bishop is worthy to hand them a cup of water? It is the very devil that no one wants to follow the shepherds.

I never thought about identifying with the shepherds. I just thought how nice that God honored these poor fellows.

The married man wants to be without a wife, or the nobleman to be a prince. It is: "If I were this! If I were that!" You fool! The best job is the one you have. If you are married, you cannot have a higher status. If you are a servant, you are in the very best position. Be diligent and know that there are no greater saints on this earth than servants. Do not say, "If I were;" say, "I am." Look at the shepards. They were watching their flocks by night, and an angel came and made them apostles, prophers, and children of God. Caiaphas, Herod, and the high priests were not deemed worthy. I would rather be one of those shepherds than that the Pope should make me a saint or the emperor make me a king.

"And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them: and they were sore afraid." The field was flooded with light --brilliant dazzling. Not the town, but the field was lighted up.... 

"And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people."... I fear death, the judgment of God, the world, hunger, and the like. The angel announces a Saviour who will free us from fear. Not a word is said about our merits and works, but only the gift we are to receive.

"For unto you is born this day," that is, unto us. For our sakes he has taken flesh and blood from a woman, that his birth might become our birth.... If you hear that this Child is yours, that takes root, and a man becomes suddenly so strong that to him death and life are the same.

Now that's a strong cup of Christmas cheer, don't you think?

Hitchens and Historiography

While reading Is Christianity Good For the Word I found this amazing piece of historiography from Hitchens:

On the matter of Stalin and the related question of secular or atheist barbarism, I shyly call your attention to chapter seventeen of my little book [God Is Not Great], which attempts an answer to this frequently asked question. Until 1917, Russia had been ruled for centuries by an absolute monarch who was also the head of a corrupt and bigoted Orthodox Church and was supposed to possess powers somewhat more than merely human. With millions of hungry and anxious people so long stultified and so credulous, Stalin the ex-seminarian would have been a fool if he did not call upon such a reservoir of ignorance and servility, and seek to emulate his predecessor.

Leaving the insult to early twentieth century Russians aside, I would like to comment on Hitchens foray into history. According to this reasoning, history works according to what must be the case. Stalin must have committed his crimes in the name of religion because that would have been the easiest way to pull them off. Not only has Hitchens put this in two books now, but I've heard him use it in debate, and I've heard Richard Dawkins quote Hitchens on this more than once. Hitchens is a clear thinker and a brilliant writer and incredibly well read. He should know better, and he usually does better.

I don't think the atheism of Stalin's regime is any secret. A quick look at Wikipedia revealed that he became a closet atheist while in seminary and only reopened churches and allowed Christian icons during World War II, perhaps to motivate the religious. Prior to this, his policy is pretty clear. In the movie Expelled, David Berlinski quipped that atheistic Darwinism is not a sufficient cause for the crimes committed by Stalin and Hitler but it is a necessary cause.

With regard to Hitchens' historical point, Ben Franklin's witticism is apropos:

So convenient a thing it is to be a reasonable creature, since it enables one to find or make a reason for every thing one has a mind to do.

Grasping for Truth

I recently finished Is Christianity Good For the World, which is the debate between atheist Christopher Hitchens and theologian Doug Wilson. On the heat to light ratio it scored well on both counts. They are both great polemicists and so there's enough heat to warm the cockles of your heart. They are also clear thinkers so they, especially Wilson, illuminates the fundamental difference between atheism and Christianity.

In fact, I think Hitchens was put a little off his guard by Wilsons' insistence that he provide an atheistic basis for the distinction between good and evil. I've seen Hitchens debate McGrath and DeSouza and, going by that, I think he expected an evidence war on his own turf. Instead, Wilson took the epistemic ground and made Hitchens fight for the right to call something evil or good. 

Wilson also made the point that without God there's no basis for faith in reason or sense experience. Notice that I used the word "faith." Hitchens doesn't want to admit that his position is equally faith-based. He continually goes back to the position that morality is innate and worked out by trial and error as humans attempt to build a coherent, law-abiding civilization. But this begs the question: Why, if morality is a product of the careless process of evolution, do humans care for coherence or law or beauty for that matter? Why aren't we just content with what is? If evolution were the only reality it could not produce any ideals higher than what is. Wilson says to Hitchens:

Your notion of morality, and the evolution it rode in on, can only concern itself with what is. But morality as Christians understand it, and the kind you surreptitiously draw upon, is concerned with ought. David Hume showed us that we cannot successfully derive ought from is. Have you discovered the error in his reasoning? It is clear from how you defend your ideas of 'morality' that you have not done so.... You believe yourself to live in a universe where there is no such thing as any fixed ought or ought not. But God has gifted you with a remarkable ability to denounce what ought not to be.

Hitchen's is living off borrowed capital any time he denounces anything. If he denounces tyranny, which he often does, he appeals a higher moral law than himself to which the tyrant is accountable. He assumes a moral law that binds himself and the tyrant and all of humanity together. He also assumes that the tyrant has transgressed it and must receive his just desserts. 

But if Hitchen's is right about there being no creator or revealer of right and wrong, then right and wrong is only what Hitchens thinks it is. And whatever Hitchens thinks is right or wrong, cannot be binding on anyone else. As Dostoevsky said: "If God is dead, all things are permissible." Hitchens seems to miss the fact that there can be no right and wrong if there is no standard for right and wrong.

Wilson's reference to Hume's point that "we cannot successfully derive ought from is" is telling for Hitchens. If Hume and Hitchen's worldview is correct there would be no way to tell someone they ought to do something (like help an old lady across the street) because of what is the case (she's old). But the fact that Hitchens and Hume do this kind of thing, shows that they cannot live consistently within their own worldview. In fact, Hume is saying that it is the case that you ought not derive an ought from an is. The philosophy is self-defeating and this is Wilson's point that Hitchens hasn't yet grapsed.

Questioning God at Christmas

At family worship the other night we read the passage where an angel visited Zechariah and told him that he and his wife were going to have a son. The text says, "They had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were well advanced in years" (v. 7). Zechariah was a priest and offering incense in the temple when the angel appeared. The Angel Gabriel told Zechariah not to be afraid "for your prayer has been heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John" (v. 13). Zechariah replied, "How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is well advanced in years."

When Gabriel visited Mary not long after, announcing that she would conceive the "the Son of the Most HIgh," who would reign on "the throne of his father David" and "over the house of Jacob forever," she asked, "How will this be, since I am a virgin?" Gabriel told Mary that "the Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the most High will overshadow you; therefore the child ... will be called ... the Son of God." In contrast, Gabriel struck Zechariah's mute button, so that he could not speak until John was born.

Then my son Jonathan said "Why did God punish one and not the other for questioning the angel?" "Great question" said I, scrambling a bit, "what's the difference?" He just looked at me, so I said, well, Mary sounds like she believes the angel but she wants to know how God will do it. She says, "How will this be since I am a virgin." But Zechariah says, "How shall I know this," which means ... then Jonathan said, "He wanted a sign!" "Right!" said I. His was a question of unbelief while Mary's was a question of faith. Gabriel told Zechariah, the trained theologian, "you will be ... unable to speak ... because you did not believe." When Mary heard Gabriel's response she said, "Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word."

Zechariah should have known that God was in the baby business for old barren couples (the BBOBC) since this happened to Abraham and Sarah in one of the most memorable stories of the Old Testament that led to the creation of Israel itself. Zechariah must have been praying for this as well (at least at some point in his life) because Gabriel said " your prayer has been answered." Isn't it funny that we cannot accept it when God answers our prayers. It's too good to be true! 

Speaking of funny, I said to Jonathan that Zechariah was basically asking for a sign in the presence of an archangel! To which we both started laughing. Five year old Kate already knew this story and had been participating the whole way. She immediately piped up and demanded that we stop laughing. I said, "That's OK sweetie. Zechariah probably laughed about it later, 'Can you believe I asked for a sign and the angel was standing right there'!" :-)

We should let Mary teach us how to question God, not Zechariah and not the unbelieving world. Faith is a better questioner anyway, because faith seeketh understanding (credo ut intelligam) and unbelief just wants to look clever or wants off the hook. Praise the Lord that Zechariah learned his lesson. Mightn't we?

C. S. Lewis on G. K. Chesterton & the Charm of Goodness

When a yet unconverted Lewis was convalescing after a WWI battle wound he says:

It was here that I first read a volume of Chesterton's essays. I had no idea of what he stood for; nor can I quite understand why he made such an immediate conquest of me. It might have been expected that my pessimism, my atheism, and my hatred of sentiment would have made him to me the least congenial of all authors. It would alomost seem that Providence, or some "second cause" of a very obscure kind, quited overrules our previous tastes when it decides to bring two minds together. ... I did not need to accept what Chesterton said in order to enjoy it. His humor was of the kind which I like best--not "jokes" imbedded in the page like currants in a cake, still less (what I cannot endure), a general tone of flippancy and jocularity, but the humor which is not in any way separable from the argument but is rahter (as Aristotle would say) the "bloom" on dialectic itself. The sword glitters not because the swordsman set out to make it glitter but because he is fighting for his life and therfore moving it very quickly. For the critics who think Chesterton frivolous or "paradoxical" I have to work hard to feel even pity; sympathy is out of the question. Moreover, strange as it may seem, I liked him for his goodness. ... In reading Chesterton, as in reading MacDonald, I did not know what I was letting myself in for. A young man who wishes to temain a sound Atheist cannot be too careful of his reading. There are traps everywhere--"Bibles laid open, millions of surprises," as Herbert says, "fine nets and stratagems." God is, if I may say it, very unscrupulous (Surprised by Joy, Harvest, Harcourt, 190-191).

I think we should talk more about the seductiveness of holiness. Enjoying goodness makes one feel clean. Once your soul cultivates a taste for that, victory over sin leaves no regret over cheap pleasures missed. We must remember that it is the "kindness of God" that leads us "to repentance" (Romans 2:4).

Lewisian Education

I teach at a classical Christian high school where we spend most of our time wrestling with ancient texts that have, for one reason or another, stood the test of time. There is a lot of pressure to modernize and teach more and more subjects. We don't want our students to be behind in applied sciences and advanced math and to be overlooked for sports scholarships. But there was a time when education was not about getting a job or "the love of the game," both of which are good. Education used to be about becoming educated. Gasp! In fact, it was about becoming educated in, what Matthew Arnold called, "the best that has been said and thought in the world." Consider what C. S. Lewis said in Suprised By Joy:  

In those days a boy on the classical side officially did almost nothing but classics. I think this was wise; the greatest service we can do to education today is to teach fewer subjects. No one has time to do more than a very few things well before he is twenty, and when we force a boy to be a mediocrity in a dozen subjects we destroy his standards, perhaps for life.

When Science Plays God

There are some who think science can explain everything, fix everything, and will lead us to the perfection of man. It seems that we were warned about this in 1818 when the Enlightenment confidence in science was still peaking. Consider this quote from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein:

Partly from curiosity, and partly from idleness, I went into the lecturing room, which M. Waldman entered shortly afterward…. He appeared about fifty years of age, but with an aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence … and his voice was the sweetest I had ever heard. He began his lecture by a recapitulation of the history of chemistry and the various improvements made by different men of learning, pronouncing with fervour the names of the most distinguished discoverers. He then took a cursory view of the present state of the science, and explained many of its elementary terms. After having made a few preparatory experiments, he concluded with a panegyric upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shall never forget: -

‘The ancient teacher of this science,’ said he, ‘promised impossibilities, and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted, and that the elixir of life is a chimera. But these philosophers, whose hands seem only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pour over the microscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrate into the recesses of nature, and show how she works in her hiding-places. They ascend into the heavens; they have discovered how the blood circulates, and the most unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows.’

Such were the professor’s words – or rather let me say such the words of the fate – enounced to destroy me. As he went on I felt as if my soul were grappling with a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys were touched which formed the mechanism of my being: chord after chord was sounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception, one purpose. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein, - more, far more, will I achieve: treading in the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation.

Psalm 100, oughts, and is

Serve the Lord with gladness!

Come into his presence with singing!

Know that the Lord, he is God!

It is he who made us, and we are his;

we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving,

and his courts with praise!

Give thanks to him; bless his name!

A Christian friend who was studying philosophy once told me "you can't get an ought from an is." That puzzled me because Scripture seemed to be full of commands telling God's people what they ought to do and even what the must do because of what is the case.

Take the passage above from Psalm 100, which says we must praise the Lord with gladness because "the Lord, he is God." Last year another friend said that except for in the area of theology "we can't get an ought from an is." At least he recognized that the fact that "God is" means we ought to do something. But I had come to the conclusion that the whole dictum was self-defeating, so I said: "Do you mean to say that it is the case that we ought not get an ought from an is?" He just smiled.

Doesn't every argument end with an appeal to belief? Every argument says: "Look at this thing that is, now you ought to believe it." Right? 

Must We All Be Historians?

Yes! The fact that God revealed himself at particular times, in particular places, and in particular languages requires us to be good historians. He has put the burden on us by privileging certain historical moments and contexts. 

This flies in the face of the chronological snobbery that assumes that our advanced technology privileges us over the past. The fact that Jesus didn't come in 21st century America should humble us. It should cause us to seek the historical-grammatical understanding of Scripture for the sake of authentic personal encounter with the living God. 

For instance, biblical writers assume the covenantal understandings of signs and promise and household. This is because God revealed himself via covenants, where he made promises, gave visible signs of those promises, and worked through the authority structures of families, churches, and states. We are at such a distance from covenantal culture that we have to deprogram our individualism and program covenantal structures. We have to enter redemptive history through the word and sacraments of the church and think historically about our redemptive history. Christianity didn't begin with us, and so we must begin where Christianity began--in history! 

Blinded by the Enlightenment

I recently read Bram Stoker's Dracula and found it not only "spookical," to use a Lewisian term, but also an interesting critique of the Enlightenment worldview. Count Dracula expands his hunting grounds by moving to London, which is the center of the industrial revolution and steeped in the age of reason. When solicitor, Jonathan Harker, traveled to Transylvania to help convey the Count to London, the rational young man found the Count's native land still submerged in old world superstitions. When the locals he meets along the way find out that he is traveling to Dracula's castle they seem dumbstruck. After recovering themselves they forcefully try to deter him, and when they cannot prevail, they insist that he accept their religious relics for protection. One night he sees the count descending the castle wall headfirst, and assures himself that he must be seeing things in the moonlight.

When the count arrives in London and begins his nightly reign of supernatural terror, no one knows how to explain what they see. A young women in the flower of youth drained of blood in single night without a drop in sight the next morning, puncture marks on her neck, bat noises outside the window, a wolf attack, and other strange animal behavior are all scientifically recorded in journals without an inkling of what's going on. The empirical evidence is there, but the worldview is found wanting. That is, until a real scientist shows up in the person of Abraham Van Helsing. Professor Van Helsing recognizes the signs but doesn't reveal anything until he can deliver the proof to his blinded young friends.

He soon takes them on a night errand to encounter the now undead Lucy Westenra, who three of the group had proposed to a short time before. The encounter with supernatural evil shatters the Enlightenment worldview of the young men who immediately transfer their loyalties to Van Helsing's Catholic Christian worldview and become vampire hunters. As soon as the truth dispels the Enlightenment perspective, Count Dracula is on the run. He has numerous hiding places but he knows it is only a matter of time before the team finds where he's entombed away from the daylight. 

It seems the vampire's success depended on the Enlightenment denial of the possibility of his existence. Now that Christendom is back at the helm, Dracula must flee back to his remote castle hideaway in the Carpathian mountains of Transylvania before his spiritually awakened foes can intercept him. Jonathan Harker's wife Mina is almost completely under the vampire's sway however, as she had been his target prior to being put to flight. Dracula had mingled his blood and hers in an effort to control her. She begins to show aversion to holy objects such as the sanctified host (believed to be the transubstantiated body of Christ) that Van Helsing had acquired by a special dispensation of the Roman church. Despite what some critics say, it is the cross and supernatural good that poses a threat to the vampire, not modern technology. The real threat to Dracula is inexplicable by science and requires a return to the faith of Christendom in order to win the fight! 

Does It Have to be Fake to be Real?

"Deconstruction" is the post modern approach to all constructions or interpretations of reality.  It has both a positive and negative pole. On the positive, it says examine texts for ways in which they undermine themselves or seek to manipulate the reader. Thus deconstruction can play a positive role in critical thinking about texts and authors, and is especially helpful when applied to yourself.

On the negative side, many post-moderns use deconstruction to reduce everything to power. Thus the deconstructive move sees a power-play behind every text or construction of reality and seeks to expose it. When you point out that deconstruction itself is a power play, many say yes, and more power to me! 

Positive deconstruction can develop a healthy skepticism in us. Negative deconstruction produces cynicism. Post-moderns of the more radical type assume that there's a rip-off behind everything that wishes to be taken seriously or on its own terms. Behind every facade of sincerity lurks a manipulative grab for power. It tries to come to grips with reality by exposing the fakery in everything.

 I was discussing movies with a friend recently and mentioned one of my favorites, which he dismissed as guilty of  sentimentalism because of its happy, romantic ending. He suggested another movie where there was a romantic triangle between a girl and two suitors and the plot built  suspense over which one she would choose. She died before she could declare her choice, but she left a letter to the one she rejected. The letter was never delivered to the rejected suitor, and he was left to believe that his love was not spurned. My friend told me that this was more real than my movie, to which I responded, "What's more real about that?" 

What makes an unhappy, tragic ending more real? Is it more real for someone to be deceived or fulfilled? If the Christian meta-narrative of creation, fall, and redemption is the Truth, then why don't happy, fulfilling endings resonate more than sad ones? Have we imbibed the spirit of the age if we think it has to be fake to be real? 

Ten Commandments of Historiography, VI-X

To the right you see one of my favorite historians, the late Roland Bainton. Bainton once quipped about psycho-history: "Their are grave difficulties in psychoanalyzing the dead."

6. Thou shalt not murder the historical subject with unjustified criticism, slander, or chronological snobbery.

This calls for a distinction between the historical and theological perspectives. The historical perspective means understanding a historical figure or movement according to their historical context. The theological perspective evaluates a historical figure or movement from the Christian worldview. The historical task must logically precede the theological, because we cannot evaluate fairly without first understanding accurately.

Chronological snobbery comes in two kinds. One version says recent is automatically right, and the other says some past period was perfect.

7. Thou shalt not commit adultery by being unfaithful to the biblical worldview or untrue to the facts or yourself.

When academia applies pressure we must remember, “The grass withers and the flower fades but … the Word of the Lord stands forever” (Isaiah 40:8).

G. K. Chesterton reminds us that: "The Catholic Church is the only thing which saves a man from … from the degrading slavery of being a child of his age.” One of the reasons we read history is to escape the prejudices of the present: individualism, secularism, relativism, apathy, entertainment, experimentation, etc.

8. Thou shalt not steal from other historians but use proper documentation..

We must realize that claiming someone else’s intellectual property is theft, and that this can be righteously avoided by giving the author’s full name, title, & facts of publication.

9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against the historical record.

If we only acknowledge our presuppositions and realize how they affect our interpretation, we can love our enemies by treating them fairly.

When will we realize that correlation does not equal causation, and that historical periods are transitional and not absolute divisions.

Beware of the hasty generalization and compare what is best in Christianity to what is worst in another religion.

10. Thou shalt not covet a grand synthesis or grandiose conclusions.

I love this quote from Thomas Carlyle: “Listening from the distance of centuries, across the death chasms and howling kingdoms of decay, it is not easy to catch everything.”

We should look for characteristic features and not assume universal traits. History escapes all our attempts of complete mastery, and we should humbly admit that reality always gets the best of us. Why isn't ignorance one of the academic virtues?

The Ten Commandments of Historiography, I-V

A few years ago a friend and I decided to come up with a memorable way to teach our students how to think historically and then do responsible historiography. Thus was born the Ten Commandments of historiography.
1. Thou shalt have no other gods before the God of history.

The point is that earthly heroes, no matter how inspiring, make disappointing gods. This means we should have the courage to tell history warts and all. This is compatible with a Christian view of history defined as the record of man’s dominion over creation under the providence of a sovereign and all wise God and God’s redemptive actions for his glory and the salvation of his people (I am indebted to Rev. and Headmaster Chris Baker for this definition).

2. Thou shalt not make any graven historical image by idolizing periods or people.

This leads to our working definition of historiography: the reconstruction of history based upon trace evidence recovered from the study of historical sources. It also leads to the distinction of historiography from hagiography, which refers to idolizing and idealizing history and historical figures.

3. Thou shalt not take the primary sources name in vain by using only secondary sources to interpret them.

A primary source is an original source of information about an historical subject, and a secondary source is not original, but based upon research of primary sources. The primacy should be given to primary sources, while not reglecting secondary sources as insightful guides or foils.

4. Remember the historical Sabbath by refreshing yourself with God’s great victories, godly heroes, and historical fiction.

This brings us to the now neglected discipline of moral philosophy, which means learning wisdom from history. Moderns considered themselves too sophisticated to stoop to this and committed themselves to scientific objectivity. But we are undeniably moral creatures who draw moral or immoral conclusions.

The historical imagination plays a role in historiography. History cannot be reduced to a science because it is also an art that requires a good imagination.

5. Honor your historical fathers and mothers by emulating their virtues and abandoning their vices.

A few classic quotes: Cicero, “Not to know what happened before you were born is to remain forever a child.”

George Santayana, “Those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it.”

Karl Jaspers, “Who I am and where I belong I first learned to know from the mirror of history.”

Has Hitch Met His Match?

Doug Wilson (on the left) and Christopher Hitchens have done a debate book on the existence of God called Is Christianity Good For the World? It originally appeared in Christianity Today, and the part I read is quite good. This is because Wilson doesn't try to play on Hitchens' turf. Instead, he points out that Hitchens is playing on theistic turf when he assumes the distinction between good and evil.

They were doing some live debates in New York and Philadelphia this weekend and the whole thing was filmed for a documentary. According to Wilson, they got on swimmingly and Hitchens signed Wilson's personal copy "Well met." Perhaps they will get on like George Bernard Shaw and G. K. Chesterton and keep it up for years to come. I'm passionately praying for Hitch's conversion. Perhaps he may become a modern day Apostle Paul. The only other Christian that Hitch has debated and really respects is Dinesh D'Souza.

This should also be a good debate because Hitchens and Wilson are known for leading with their chins! Click on the title of this entry to see a preview.

Do You Believe in a God Who Can Save a Hellboy?

I've always loved monsters, superheroes, and stories of redemption. To the surprise of many, I have recently become a fan of the Hellboy movies and graphic novels. I find them to be a playground for a Christian imagination and great fun.

I view the first movie as a metaphor of Christian conversion, regardless of whether the writers intended it that way or not. Since God made the world in order that he might redeem it, much of life resonates with redemptive themes if we have eyes to see and ears to hear. These redemptive themes permeate human art, even the art of atheists like Jean Paul Sarte (read his play "No Exit"). The gospel is inescapable in a world destined for redemption.

The first Hellboy movie begins with the question: "What makes a man? Is it something in his origins or is it in the choices he makes?" This question is especially poignant for Hellboy because his origin is Hell. Mike Mignola, the creator of the Hellboy mythology, and Guillermo Del Toro, his collaborator on the movies, explicitly raise the question: "Can a demon become a good man?"

Since God makes everything good, everything can be redeemed, if he wills it. The problem with demon-redemption is that Scripture does not tell us that God wills it. But this is not a problem, once you take the universe of Hellboy for what it is--a parallel world. It's like Narnia. Bacchus is a good-guy there and spiritism and spells aren't necessarily evil. This is because Aslan and the Emperor beyond the Sea use them as a means of revelation. You could probably say the same thing about the fairy tale magic of Harry Potter, except that world is Christian only in the moral sense of a real anti-thesis between good and evil and not so much in the redemptive sense of God incarnate laying down his life.

C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien put forth the idea of sub-creation. Since we are made in the image of God we long to create as he does. Since he likes to make worlds, we do to. No world is exactly alike so it shouldn't surprise us if God might redeem a demon in one world but not another or choose to use "magic" in one world and "miracles" in another. The medieval theologian William of Ockham seems to shed some light here, when he says that God doesn't will things because they are good, they are good simply because God wills them or wills to use them positively.

The reason why I find Hellboy to be a beautiful metaphor for Christian conversion is because the Bible refers to us in our fallen condition in almost the same way. Jesus says to the Pharisees: "You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires" (John 8:44). Paul says that we "were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind" (Eph 2:3). In a sense, we were all children of hell, and I was a hellboy. We all start out that way--condemned and sinful--and if Christ doesn't intervene we remain that way.

Hellboy makes a statement because he files his horns down. At the beginning of the movie someone says it's because he wants to fit in, but watch to the end and you'll see that it's more than that. Hellboy has been taught a "sense of right" by his adoptive father, pits himself against evil, isn't scared of the worst hell can dish out, is continually tempted to return to the side of his original father, and is humble enough to admit he's not unbeatable or very attractive to the humans he tries to save. The supernatural is tangibly real in this world though most humans are oblivious to it. There is also a clear anti-thesis between the good and evil sides of the supernatural, as they fight for control over the natural world. Catholic Christian symbolism and theology are overt at times (especially in the first movie and the "Hellboy: Blood and Iron" animated movie).

Do you believe in a God who can redeem a hellboy? God has a big imagination. Shouldn't we?

Capitalism vs. Socialism? Or Another Model?

G. K. Chesterton championed an economic model that was the antithesis of both capitalism and socialism. As Americans, we tend to view capitalism and socialism as the last two survivors of economic evolution, who are now locked in a titanic struggle. Our more immediate concerns in the U. S. revolve around the next elections and whether big government will get bigger by raising taxes, expanding programs, and redistributing the wealth or will it withdraw and give the reins to big business and the profit motive?

In 1935, near the end of his life, Chesterton reflected on his G. K.'s Weekly, which had just released its 500th edition:

I am the editor of the only a paper in England which is devoted to what is a perfectly normal idea - private property. Most modern property isn't private, and ordinary capitalism makes it even less private if possible than ordinary communism. The system under which we live today is one of huge commercial combinations in which property isn't private ... What we mean by private property is that as many people as possible should own the means of production; the ground in which to dig, the spade with which to dig, the roof under which to sleep at night, the tools and machinery of production should belong to as many separate individuals as possible. There is a case for communism; there is even a case for capitalism; but they are both cases against private property. They both mean that it is not a good thing that separate men should own separate tools, separate farms, separate shops, but that all should be linked together in one great machine, whether it is a communist State or a capitalist business.

If Chesterton could see the division of labor we have today in our "huge commercial combinations" he would probably stagger. Our ever increasing division of labor has cut workers off from nature and, as Chesterton said, this means being cut off from the "causes of things." This distorts our perception of reality as we begin to think that food comes from supermarkets and clothes from malls or that everything comes from Super Walmart or Target Greatland.

In light of the industrial revolution, was Chesterton longing for something impractical ? Maybe. But even though Chesterton was an idealist he was practical. Even though he romanticized the small cities and the country life of noble peasants of the medieval past, he had a plan for his day. Merry England might have been a faint memory, but England could still be the home of merry men if the land were distributed as equally as possible to the maximum number of them. This would mean that people would be able to sell what they made and buy what they needed in their local communities. This would produce a quality of life that has been largely lost (and cut down on transportation costs too).

Chesterton's economic model is called Distributism. Is Distributism feasible apart from a Marxist type revolution or an economic catastrophe? Chesterton thought it was: "Every contract by which small property would pass into the possession of large property should be prohibitively taxed, and similarly the setting up of every small business or every small ownership of land should be advantaged in the same fashion."

Could it be that easy?

Mysterious Reason?

I recently read Augustine's The Trinity with some friends. I was once again struck by Augustine's rational theology. Edmund Hill, the editor, noted that Augustine did not distinguish between faith and reason. What? That is such a common distinction today or, as most moderns would like to think, a separation. For Augustine, reason was a subset of faith. In other words, every bit of our knowledge begins with faith in something that will lead us to knowledge.

In a debate on the existence of God (I recently watched on-line), atheist Richard Dawkins said his opponent had to rely on faith, whereas he proceeded according to reason alone. His insightful opponent responded by saying that Dawkin's position on God's non-existence also involved faith. When Dawkins insisted that his position was based on reason alone, his opponent asked him, "Well, don't you believe it?" Dawkins then back-peddled to try to answer on other terms.

I think it is inescapable that we must assume first principles that we cannot prove in a laboratory. The Christian believes that the Bible is a revelation from God and puts his faith in it. The Rationalist, on the other hand, assumes his reason as the starting point and basis of all knowledge. If the Rationalist wants to pretend that his approach is purely rational, it must be pointed out that it is an act of faith to trust in reason or any of our senses. I don't deny that reason should be trusted. I'm only pointing out that there is an element of trust, and that reason is trustworthy because it comes from God. Without God, the atheist has no ultimate basis for trusting in his reason or his five senses. He may say, "Well, they work." Yes they do, but why should they work if not given by God for unlocking the secrets of his created order? Reason itself is a mystery, especially if God does not exist.

Augustine held to the principle credo ut intelligam, or "I believe in order that I may understand." This means that we all must start with unproved presuppositions, if we are to understand anything. The only question is: "Are they the right presuppositions?" Our presuppositions can always be tested against the evidence as we go. If our presuppositions begin to block our understanding, then we can try new ones, like switching from the earth as the center of the solar system to the heliocentric solar system.

While Augustine, and the rest of us, start with faith or unproven assumptions, it is not the same as being irrational. I said earlier that I was impressed by Augustine's "rational theology." Indeed, as Calvin would later say, "Reason is a receptacle of revelation." Augustine does not use his reason to give rational proofs for the Trinity. The Trinity is beyond that. But he does give a rational account of the Trinity. In other words, he shows how the revelation of the Trinity makes sense and is not contrary to reason.

For instance, there is nothing irrational or contradictory about saying God is one in essence and three in person. But this doesn't dispel mystery either, for how can we have three persons who are God and yet avoid having three gods? All Augustine can suggest is that "person" is our best way speaking about the three-ness of God. When asked "three what?" all we can say is "three persons."

Augustine unapologetically appeals to revelation to avoid "tri-theism." He simply says that on the divine level, God's substance or nature is such that his persons constitute one being instead of three. C. S. Lewis in Mere Christianity says that on the creaturely level three persons equals three separate beings, but on the divine level it's different. God's divine nature is such that three persons are unified in one being. It's a mystery to us, but not an irrational one.

Hill sums up Augustine's approach well when he says: "Never is he [Augustine] so naive as to think he can 'prove' the mystery without recourse to faith." I hope that we as Christians won't be ashamed to call faith a virtue, and that Dawkins will be led to see that reason is a mystery that points to the one true God.

Did Ockham Shave?

The medieval philosopher and theologian William of Ockham is probably most known for what has been called "Ockham's razor." While I would like to know if Ockham was beardless, I am more interested in his philosophical razor. By applying the razor one is able to shave away unnecessary parts of an explanation and thus arrive at the truth by a more direct route. Ockham said: Numquam ponenda est pluralitas sine necessitate or "Do not posit plurality without necessity." In other words, don’t multiply assumptions or entities you don’t need to explain something. The Razor also suggests that if two arguments seem equal in all other respects, the simplest explanation is the most likely to be true.

In presenting this to my Humanities class I looked for some illustrations but to no avail. Finally I came up with two of my own and covet any feedback you might have.

Which is the faster route to your destination, the interstate or a more direct path along secondary roads? If you look at a map you might conclude the shorter route but then you realize that the speed limit is 35 mph but the interstate is 65 mph. You decide that the shorter distance is still preferable, but then you realize that you have to assume hitting every green light, no trains, & no pedestrians in the crosswalks. You begin to realize that you must assume too many contingencies and go with the interstate as the fastest route.

Atheists argue that a naturalistic explanation of the universe makes God the “unnecessary hypothesis.” God the creator is an assumption that we do not need in the light of naturalism. Theists argue that a purely naturalistic explanation of the universe requires more assumptions such as life evolving from non-living matter and that matter is eternal though the physical universe did not exist prior to the big bang. Irreducible complexity, from the Intelligent Design movement, is essentially an application of Ockham’s razor. It argues that organisms have complex systems that can work only when fully formed. It is simpler to explain this phenomenon by appealing to special creation. Otherwise, you have to posit natural selection of non-usable parts in light of a more complex whole that will appear in the distant future.

Do you think Ockham shaves like this?

Bilingual Christianity?

I recently heard Dinesh D’Souza speak in St. Louis, and he spurred me to consider our methods of defending the Christian faith. His book What’s So Great About Christianity is one of the best apologetics for Christianity in a long time and has been compared to Lewis’s Mere Christianity. It does update many of Lewis’s arguments and is magnificently written. Like Lewis, D’Souza is well read in the fields of philosophy, Western history, literature (though non can match Lewis here), and Scripture. He is an excellent scholar and polemicist, and hits the heart of the matter so precisely and succinctly on so many issues the book is almost a complete education in defending the faith.

One thing I heard him say last night (and in his debate with Christohper Hitchens) is that he does not appeal to Scripture but argues from the same canons as the atheists—reason and science. In fact, he told the audience that Christians must learn to be bilingual. We must learn not only to speak our native Christian tongue to each other but also to those who don’t accept the authority of the Bible. Scripture verses don’t carry much weight with secularists and individualists so we must speak their authorities—science and reason—back to them. By reason I think he means something like rational arguments based in disciplines such as science, ethics, and justice and by science he means empirical study of nature and its findings.

While we ought to appeal the authorities of "natural revelation" (science and reason), I think that D’Souza is “shooting himself in the foot” by limiting himself to these. If Scripture is the true story of God’s world then the truth of that story will resonate with people when they hear it (even though they may attempt to deny it). In fact, the Holy Spirit may convince them that Christianity is best explanation of life as we experience it and is the only solution to the problem of guilt. We don’t want to speak “Christianese” to uncomprehending post moderns, but the gospel story is, I think, the best and most universal apologetic.

Catholic philosopher Étienne Gilson said: “On all the points covered in common by philosophy and by revelation, rationality stood on the side of revelation much more than on that of philosophy: a single God, creator of heaven and earth, ruler of the world and its providence, a God who made man in his own image, and revealed to him along with his last end the way to attain it. Where in the splendid achievements of Greek Philosophy could one find a view of the world as clear and as perfectly satisfactory to the mind as the one revealed to man by Holy Scripture?”

I think D’Souza would do better to say that we appeal to reason and science and use them within the framework of the biblical worldview. This worldview is revealed from heaven and received by reason. From there, I think we do well to show that the book of Scripture and the book of nature cohere and complement one another rationally and mysteriously. Thankfully, D'Souza is better in actual practice than his stated policy would seem to allow. But, I think, we do need to be unapologetically proud of our special revelation even when rationalists mock it as unverifiable superstition.

Atheist Comfort?

Dinesh D'Souza makes an interesting point in What's So Great About Christianity. He says that Christianity might not have a good explanation for evil but that's not what we need when we're suffering. "When I get sick, I don't want a theory to explain it; I want something that will make me feel better. Atheism may have a better explanation for evil and suffering, but it provides no consolation.... Theism, which doesn't have a good explanation, nevertheless offers a better way for people to cope with the consequences of evil and suffering" (274). Christianity speaks to our need not our curiosity. It does not respond to the atheist's anger either, except to say, "Calm down. God is God and is not aloof to suffering but has suffered in our place."

D'Souza says this is why there were no atheist sermons following the Virginia Tech massacre. Instead, "Every time there was a memorial ceremony or a public gathering, there was talk of God, divine mercy, and spiritual healing" (274-75). D'Souza says atheism has nothing more to say about evil than evil is not a problem because it does not exist. He quotes Richard Dawkins who writes: "At bottom [there is] no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference" (275). It's no wonder there were no atheist homilies in the aftermath of the murders--that message won't preach!

We know evil exists and D'Souza points out that this turns the tables on the atheist's materialist doctrine. "If we are purely material beings," he writes, "then we should no more object to mass murder than a river objects to drying up in a drought. Nevertheless we are not like rivers. We know evil is real .... But if evil is real, then good must be real as well. How else would we know the difference between the two" (276). This reminds me of Boethius who, in the Consolatio Philosophiae, asked, "Whence comes evil if God exists? But whence comes good if he exists not?"

Christ is the good God whose holiness defines evil by stark contrast and the only answer to the problem. Evil exists according to God's will and is remedied by God's self-sacrifice! Gloria in excelsis Deo!