A Brief History of Thought: A Philosophical Guide to Living by Luc Ferry
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Ferry is an insightful and honest philosopher who sees the beauty of Christianity while remaining an atheist. He realizes that the most important question in philosophy concerns human salvation. He acknowledges the debt of the world to the Greeks and especially to Christianity and its commitment to equality based in humankind made in the image of God. He notes how the Enlightenment undermined confidence in religious authority and made man the center giving us secular humanism.
Then came Nietzsche and the postmodern, which declared the death of God and smashed confidence in human reason and science. Nietzsche replaced the "idols" of Christianity and humanism with power and the deconstruction of power. But Ferry understands that even Nietzsche couldn't live consistently with materialism because he couldn't resist value judgments and denunciations.
This leads Ferry to abandon materialism and propose a humanism without transcendence or a transcendence within immanence. This is where Ferry is the least convincing. How can you salvage transcendence if there's nothing "above our heads?" He tries to say that since death will separate us from our loved ones we must keep our relationships in good repair. Fair enough, but I'm not sure how this recaptures transcendence in anyway that can account for our value judgments.
He admits that his version of transcendence is "small beer" compared to Christianity, which teaches that salvation means victory over death through the resurrection and an everlasting life of love with God and other humans. He says he prefers Christianity over every other doctrine of salvation but can't bring himself to believe. Ferry quotes Pascal approvingly but doesn't take his wager seriously.
Pascal says if you want to believe then wager that he is, and do the things that lead to faith like attending divine worship, prayer, and reading Scripture. Ferry also dismisses the argument for God's existence from human desire. He says the fact that we want to believe something is not evidence for its existence but shows the likelihood that we will make it up. But as C. S. Lewis pointed out, the presence of a desire is "usually" evidence for the thing that fulfills that desire. We long for beauty and there are beautiful things that satisfy that desire. Plus if we are nothing more than chemical circuitry then why do we "rage against the dying of light?" If we're temporary why do we fear death and long for the eternal? I recommend reading Tim Keller's Making Sense of God along with A Brief History of Thought. Both are great but Keller rings truer.
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Wednesday, April 12, 2017
Saturday, January 28, 2017
The Meaning of Life if Nihilism Is True
This past week I was discussing nihilism with a class and some students argued that if we came from nothing (i.e. God didn't put us here) and we're going to nothing (i.e. annihilation) then we would have no purpose for life. Then another student argued that if this life was all there is it would follow that this life was more meaningful. You only go around once so make the most of it!
I suggested that both were right in their own ways. If atheistic Darwinism were true life wouldn't have ultimate meaning, because not only are we going to nothing but everyone and everything is going to nothing. It won't matter what we did or what we were because all will be forgotten in that utter extinction.
So if this life is all there is, then we could find subjective meaning for now in getting our way. Dominating others with our strong will and clever cunning would make the most sense. Time is limited so the need to live for your own immediate enjoyment would be felt most acutely. Sacrificing for others now might lead to a greater benefit for yourself later if you made them feel indebted to you, but there would be no reason to help those who could never help you back. Aiding strangers would be counterproductive. Enlightened self-interest is still selfish and would only lead to selective serving of others.
So immediate meaning in power plays yes, but ultimate meaning in the end no.
I suggested that both were right in their own ways. If atheistic Darwinism were true life wouldn't have ultimate meaning, because not only are we going to nothing but everyone and everything is going to nothing. It won't matter what we did or what we were because all will be forgotten in that utter extinction.
So if this life is all there is, then we could find subjective meaning for now in getting our way. Dominating others with our strong will and clever cunning would make the most sense. Time is limited so the need to live for your own immediate enjoyment would be felt most acutely. Sacrificing for others now might lead to a greater benefit for yourself later if you made them feel indebted to you, but there would be no reason to help those who could never help you back. Aiding strangers would be counterproductive. Enlightened self-interest is still selfish and would only lead to selective serving of others.
So immediate meaning in power plays yes, but ultimate meaning in the end no.
Sunday, January 15, 2017
School and Religion
Teaching religion in school is unavoidable. We either teach it or, by ignoring it, teach that it is irrelevant. For instance, teaching evolution as the origin of life, not just the origin of species, has religious implications. Either God started the evolutionary process or it didn't need him or there was some degree of special creation and evolution isn't the whole story. But ignoring the question of God implies that he is an unnecessary hypothesis. You can't get around religious teaching.
Saturday, January 14, 2017
Speaking Up Over Endo's Silence
Silence by Shūsaku Endō
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
It took me a long time to work through my thoughts and feelings about this historical novel. Silence is very well written and Endo's style is enjoyable. I admired the two Portuguese priests Rodrigues and Garrpe for going to Japan to find their reportedly fallen mentor Ferreira and support the Japanese Christians in their struggle against persecution from their government. The events surrounding the suffering and martyrdom of the Japanese church during the seventeenth century were deeply moving and heroically inspiring. The book is worth reading for this testimony alone. I certainly felt compassion for the weak faith of Kichijiro and longed for him to find strength. But then came the ambiguous final chapters. The rest of my review contains spoilers.
After the Japanese authorities capture Rodrigues, they explain that they have outlawed Christianity because, while it may be true for Portugal, it is not true for Japan. I cheered when Rodrigues responded, "It is precisely because truth is common to all countries and all times that we call it truth. If a true doctrine were not true alike in Portugal and Japan we could not call it 'true'." Then the "fumie" began.
The Japanese leaders had realized that getting Christians to apostatize was much more effective for defeating the faith than merely martyring its followers. The "fumie" was an image of Christ and Christians were told to step on it or face the agonizing torture of being hung upside down over a pit of filth, while blood slowly dripped out of a cut inflicted by the persecutors on the victim's forehead. Death took days. The persecutors force Rodrigues to listen to the moans of the Christians in this condition.
By striking the sheep they try to get the shepherds to apostatize. Fallen shepherds mean dispirited sheep and dispirited sheep were more likely to roll over for their persecutors. When Ferreira appears in the story as just such a fallen shepherd, he implores Rodrigues to apostatize. If he does so, the authorities have agreed to release the suffering Christians. Ferreira says that God won't do anything to help them, but if Christ were here he would apostatize for the Christians. Rodrigues had been struggling with the silence of God and other doubts throughout the novel and now it comes to a head. Under that twisted pressure Rodrigues looks at the "fumie" and hears what may or may not be the voice of Christ say that it was to be tread upon by men that he came into the world, so go ahead and trample. But as soon as Rodrigues does so a cock crows in the distance. What should the reader think?
The ambiguous book ends with Rodrigues and Ferreira taking Japanese names and wives and working with the government to identify Christian symbols and thus oppress those who bear them. Rodrigues comes to the conclusion that though Christ seemed to be silent during his trials he was always speaking through him. But the reader is left wondering what the message was. Rodrigues dies ministering forgiveness to the returning Kichijiro, and so he still seems to have faith though living in contradiction to it.
While I sympathize with weakness, I am also reminded that the current powers that be in the world at large want Christians to do exactly what the two priests do in the story: apostatize a public faith without giving up a private faith. The interpreter says, "It is only a formality. What do formalities matter. ... Only go through with the exterior form of trampling." "Go ahead and keep your faith to yourself," secularism pleas with us, "just don't bring it up anymore." Endo's book, which is now a movie directed by Martin Scorsese, seems either to serve up what the world has ordered or lament apostasy.
Endo was a Catholic Christian so it must be a lament over apostasy, but I couldn't help being disappointed. Throughout the novel, I kept wishing that Rodrigues would see that God was not silent but speaking to the Japanese Christians through his ministry and would also speak through his firmness in the face of fear. But Endo's priest doesn't realize this until after he has betrayed and then it seems the priest is on the wrong side.
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My rating: 3 of 5 stars
It took me a long time to work through my thoughts and feelings about this historical novel. Silence is very well written and Endo's style is enjoyable. I admired the two Portuguese priests Rodrigues and Garrpe for going to Japan to find their reportedly fallen mentor Ferreira and support the Japanese Christians in their struggle against persecution from their government. The events surrounding the suffering and martyrdom of the Japanese church during the seventeenth century were deeply moving and heroically inspiring. The book is worth reading for this testimony alone. I certainly felt compassion for the weak faith of Kichijiro and longed for him to find strength. But then came the ambiguous final chapters. The rest of my review contains spoilers.
After the Japanese authorities capture Rodrigues, they explain that they have outlawed Christianity because, while it may be true for Portugal, it is not true for Japan. I cheered when Rodrigues responded, "It is precisely because truth is common to all countries and all times that we call it truth. If a true doctrine were not true alike in Portugal and Japan we could not call it 'true'." Then the "fumie" began.
The Japanese leaders had realized that getting Christians to apostatize was much more effective for defeating the faith than merely martyring its followers. The "fumie" was an image of Christ and Christians were told to step on it or face the agonizing torture of being hung upside down over a pit of filth, while blood slowly dripped out of a cut inflicted by the persecutors on the victim's forehead. Death took days. The persecutors force Rodrigues to listen to the moans of the Christians in this condition.
By striking the sheep they try to get the shepherds to apostatize. Fallen shepherds mean dispirited sheep and dispirited sheep were more likely to roll over for their persecutors. When Ferreira appears in the story as just such a fallen shepherd, he implores Rodrigues to apostatize. If he does so, the authorities have agreed to release the suffering Christians. Ferreira says that God won't do anything to help them, but if Christ were here he would apostatize for the Christians. Rodrigues had been struggling with the silence of God and other doubts throughout the novel and now it comes to a head. Under that twisted pressure Rodrigues looks at the "fumie" and hears what may or may not be the voice of Christ say that it was to be tread upon by men that he came into the world, so go ahead and trample. But as soon as Rodrigues does so a cock crows in the distance. What should the reader think?
The ambiguous book ends with Rodrigues and Ferreira taking Japanese names and wives and working with the government to identify Christian symbols and thus oppress those who bear them. Rodrigues comes to the conclusion that though Christ seemed to be silent during his trials he was always speaking through him. But the reader is left wondering what the message was. Rodrigues dies ministering forgiveness to the returning Kichijiro, and so he still seems to have faith though living in contradiction to it.
While I sympathize with weakness, I am also reminded that the current powers that be in the world at large want Christians to do exactly what the two priests do in the story: apostatize a public faith without giving up a private faith. The interpreter says, "It is only a formality. What do formalities matter. ... Only go through with the exterior form of trampling." "Go ahead and keep your faith to yourself," secularism pleas with us, "just don't bring it up anymore." Endo's book, which is now a movie directed by Martin Scorsese, seems either to serve up what the world has ordered or lament apostasy.
Endo was a Catholic Christian so it must be a lament over apostasy, but I couldn't help being disappointed. Throughout the novel, I kept wishing that Rodrigues would see that God was not silent but speaking to the Japanese Christians through his ministry and would also speak through his firmness in the face of fear. But Endo's priest doesn't realize this until after he has betrayed and then it seems the priest is on the wrong side.
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