Faith & Reason

I have been reading an apologetics text book, Introducing Apologetics, Cultivating Christian Commitment, by James E. Taylor.

Dr. Taylor, who had been "a committed Christian" most of his life, writes about how in college he began experiencing intense doubts about his faith. Unlike many stories that start like this, he did not find his faith encouraged by the study of philosophy or Christian evidence. In fact, although he "spent must of [his] senior year trying to find arguments for God's existence," he could not find a sure foundation by his investigation.

Obviously, because Dr. Taylor ended up writing an apologetics textbook, he somehow found his faith strengthened. If it was not the study of apologetics, what was it? In his own words,

It was a spring break trip to Mexico with a few hundred fellow students to lead vacation Bible school programs and evangelistic meetings in various neighborhoods around Ensenada. What I found during that trip was that the experience of Christian service, evangelism, worship, and fellowship revived my faith in God. This revival happened because through these experiences I had a strong sense of God's presence and activity.

Because of his experiences, Dr. Taylor rejected evidentialism -- the idea that Christian belief is reasonable only if supported by sufficient proofs -- and embraced fideism. Fideism gives faith pride of place over reason. Dr. Taylor is careful to claim that he is a "responsible fideist" rather than one who rejects rationality altogether.

By "reasonable fideist" Dr. Taylor means that he will steer a middle path between "just having faith" and an overemphasis on reason. "Too much confidence in reason may lead to doubt or unbelief because no combination of arguments and evidence can prove conclusively that God exists or that Christianity is true" on one hand, but that "too much emphasis on faith to the exclusion of reason may also lead to doubt or unbelief because there are legitimate questions of an intellectual sort about Christianity ... that trouble sincere believers and seekers."

I accept Dr. Taylor's point that a Christian's faith is reasonable based on that person's experience of God. William L. Craig calls this the internal witness of the Holy Spirit. In legal jargon, it is self-authenticating. Lest someone object that this is overly convenient, I would point out that it is consistent with the view that God desires relationship with mankind. If God desires a relationship with the poor and the rich, the educated and the ignorant, those with access to the latest scientific research and those consigned to live in illiterate, pre-industrial societies, then He is likely to establish a means of encouraging such relationship that is not dependent solely on the tools of education and reason. In other words, God's love is not limited to those who have the intelligence, time, resources, and education to pursue detailed philosophical arguments or embark on years of historical research.

Nevertheless, I may disagree to an extent with Dr. Taylor's contention that evidences and arguments cannot prove important elements of the Christian faith, such as the existence of God. For example, "The heavens are telling of the glory of God; And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands. day to day pours forth speech, And night to night reveals knowledge." Psalm 19:1-2. Rather, it seems to me that reasonable faith can rest on one's experience of God and that there are strong evidences and proofs supporting that faith.

I do believe that human reason has suffered from separation from God, but not to the point that rationality itself is suspect. Rather, it is the frailty of the heart, prejudices, and sin that clouds our ability to properly utilize it. Of course, my difference with Dr. Taylor may be one of slight degree. I have not read his analysis of several leading apologetic arguments, such as the Kalam Cosmological Argument or the evidences for the resurrection of Jesus. If I can make the time I will let you know what I find.

How Should I Be A Sceptic -- religious belief and reasoning

[Introductory note from Jason Pratt: the previous entry in this series of posts can be found here. The first entry can be found here.

This entry concludes a fourth chapter, begun here. I highly recommend reading at least as far back as this, first.]


But some people (believer and sceptic alike) will still have problems with the concept that anything definite may be discovered about the Ultimate Reality. To the sceptics, especially the atheists who are philosophical naturalists, I reply that we discover apparent truths about Nature and its operations and character all the time, and use (sometimes incorrectly, but sometimes correctly, too) such information all the time. This is despite the fact that if non-sentient Nature is the foundation of all reality, then it must be as impossible for derivative human reasoning to fully understand it, as for us to fully understand a sentient ultimate Fact.

For that matter, it seems clear from the science of quantum mechanics that whatever Nature is--whether it is the Final Fact or a derivative entity itself--humans are not capable of completely comprehending it. Quantum indeterminacy assures us of this. But we did discover quantum indeterminacy; and it hasn't stopped us from learning plenty of useful and (as far as we can tell) true positive characteristics of Nature.

For instance, Newton's physical laws may have been transcended by quantum physics, but they have not been abrogated; we can still calculate with virtual certainty what will happen when physical bodies with characteristic set 'A' interact in fashion 'B'. So atheistic naturalists, at least, should (in principle) already understand and accept that we are not barred from discovering particular characteristics of the Final Fact merely by it being the Final Fact.

Religious believers, meanwhile, may or may not have a slightly different position on the matter. Pantheists technically advocate only one level of reality, which they believe to be sentient. Their practical position on this topic (aside from the question of sentience) is the same as the atheistic naturalists: they do have particular beliefs about the system of reality (even saying "God is not thus" declares implicitly that God has one characteristic and not another), and the status of ultimate reality hasn't stopped them from believing they have learned these things. [See first comment below for a footnote here.]

Supernaturalists, however, have an extra potential problem: the specifically 'supernatural' characteristics of 'Supernature' would seem to be inexpressible in terms of 'Nature'. Similarly, a 2-Dimensional man would have no capability of really discovering true 3-D properties via reasoning, much less perception. [See second comment below for a footnote here.]

Now we are touching on an issue that has great relevance to the start of my second section; because this illustration works by presuming the 2-D man has in fact no 3-D properties. But, if he has even one 3-D property (and if it is the correct type of property), then the door is open for him to deduce as much as he can about the properties of 3-D reality. Perhaps he cannot deduce very much, or very much that is useful; but that must wait until the attempt is made. No immediate bar is placed in his path meanwhile--except the question of whether or not he has some (discoverable) 3-D property. Thus, at worst my attempt at an accurate and useful deductive argument is put into a reserved limbo until (or unless) I can establish we have some type of supernatural characteristic.

On the other hand, we also now touch the topic of God's intentions (if any) in the matter. An atheist could easily be willing to agree, in principle, that if I could discover a thread leading out of the 'black-box' of Nature, I would not necessarily be prevented from deducing something useful and true about the Supernature the thread is attached to. This would be a fair acquiescence on her part to me, whether or not I could convince her I have found a thread--for the principle would work just as well for either of us! If she discovered (or exclusively deduced) that what the 'thread' leads to is also non -sentient, then she would remain an atheist--though she would now be a supernaturalistic atheist. She would have discovered that this newly detected or inferred ultimate level is no more sentient than the evident Nature. In any event, a non-sentient Supernature would not be capable of acting to bar our inquiry about its existence and characteristics.

But, a supernaturalistic God, being sentient and ultimately superordinate to me, could be capable of acting to prevent me (or anyone) from discovering something, or even perhaps anything, about Him.

This is certainly a possibility; but, then again, God might also decide to make it possible for me to find my way there. Almost all supernaturalistic theists claim God has in fact done this, through various means. Most of the 'faith-only' theists would claim God has done so through a Scripture (I agree); most of the 'faith-only' theists would claim God has done so through certain scriptures, and absolutely not others (I partially agree for reasons I hope to make clear very much later); many of the 'faith-only' theists would claim God has done so only through Scripture.

But even if God has done so 'only through Scripture', any knowledge we have about this still would be an instance of rational perception and judgment on our part.

In the case of the Hebrew Bible and Christian 'New' Testament, however, I want to point out once more that those scriptures themselves tell us God has used (and does use) other ways than 'pure reliance on Scripture' to get knowledge of His existence and character to us. Here are some examples:

a.) God speaks to prophets who tell other people what He said [see third comment below for a footnote here]; but the audiences for whom the message is also intended (not just the prophet) are expected to judge the prophets by using their reasoning. Does the message fit with other messages previously judged to have come from God? Does the messenger exhibit supernatural power to 'attest' (as the Greek puts it) that at least at face value the purported 'prophet' might be expected to be speaking for God? Does the prophet, in hindsight, have a 100% success rate for anything he or she predicts?

This means someone could legitimately decide an ostensible prophet was not a prophet, in which case the legitimate thing to do was reject (or even kill) the false prophet. That judgment comes from, and through, the responsible reasoning of other people, though. Which in turn, as annoying as this may be to contemplate, means a sceptic might be responsibly reasoning, too, to reject an ostensible prophet. For example, I'm not really sure I could blame a sceptic for noticing that Micah predicts that the Messiah will throw back an Assyrian invasion with the help of a special group of judge-heroes. Clearly, when the Assyrians eventually invaded, this didn't happen! (In the larger story context, a defense could be made that God provisionally retracted that expectation to be fulfilled later somehow; but if this is put forward as a reason to believe Micah to be a legitimate prophet anyway, then it becomes a fallacy of special pleading, I think.)

b.) God allows 'pagans' (non-Jews, non-Christians, non-Muslims, if you prefer) to perceive His existence and character through their own cultures and devices. The total picture these other people have may not be right, but parts of it are right. Certain rulers in the Hebrew Bible fit this category, stretching back at least as far as the priest-king Melchizedek (who evidently was superior to Abraham, as Abraham could accept his blessing in the name of God). The most famous example may be the astrologers of Matthew's Gospel who, in the story, learned of the forthcoming birth of the Messiah from their 'normal' 'pagan' activities.

c.) The Apostle Paul tells the Christian congregation in Rome that God has given to all people the knowledge of His moral character, so that all people may have at least some level of personal (not just causal) relationship to God--which they deny at their own peril. This ability is also given so that all people may realize, that whatever their creed, they know they do not follow their creed perfectly, and thus stand condemned not by the lack of a foreign knowledge but by the knowledge vouchsafed to them. [See fourth comment below for a footnote here.] This, by the way, does not mean better knowledge is not possible for them to learn, and certainly does not mean the better knowledge is not better for them: it is not a creed that all ideas of religion are equally true or even equally useful. Paul means that people cannot avoid an important knowledge of God by being ignorant of Christianity, and are thus still accountable for their actions; but this necessarily must mean that God makes provisions for at least some real truths about Him to be reached in ways which are not the 'best' ways. [See fifth comment below for a footnote here.]

My Christian, Jewish and Muslim brothers may perhaps have an advantage at understanding this point (if they will take that advantage), because despite some very serious differences between us, which we cannot all be correct about, we do share some equally serious metaphysical and even historical beliefs. If I believe metaphysical or historical proposition 'A', and two of my competitors affirm it as well, then I must either admit that God has provided the other two people with that true knowledge (whatever my opinion may be about other particulars of their beliefs) or I must pretend this agreement does not exist. We all three agree that all mankind are brothers by God's design, grace and intention; so willful blindness to recognize shared points of reality which we agree to be true, especially when it involves the fracturing of relationships between brothers, looks to me very much like a sin! I, at least, do not intend to answer to God for a willful fostering of discord.

At any rate, the Scriptures I am familiar with tell me that scriptures are important, but God is not limited to them. And if someone presents me with another proposed scripture, then how am I supposed to perceive its superiority and/or authority without comparing and contrasting in some fashion--even if, at the very least, this means comparing and contrasting its message with what my feelings (or 'inner attenuations to God' or whatever) are telling me? This comparing and contrasting, even with what might be called the internal witness of the Spirit, is still reasoning!

At the most fundamental (and fundamentalistic!) level, then, of Christian witness (and other theistic witnesses, too), I still cannot jump off that shadow. Reasoning is there; to deny it, is to cut myself off from any potential of God's witness, even to myself as a person.

If a rock cannot think, then God cannot have a personal relationship with a rock; it would be a contradiction in terms. (He would still have many different kinds of causal relationships with the rock, of course; and He could still have those relationships as a Person Himself. This is why I emphasized the word 'with'.) Throwing away or ignoring my reason, when it comes to God, leaves me in no better shape than the rock! God might as well not have raised us from the dust! Indeed, my own tradition relates, from the very beginning, how a flat-out refusal to think cogently can dramatically ruin an established relationship with God.

Satan tempted Eve, in the story of Genesis 3, not with the lure of 'knowledge' per se (the fruit gave 'knowledge of good and evil' which does not cover the total field of 'knowledge'), but with lures which could only have been far more obviously false to her (even if you want to treat this as purely a fictional story) than they could be to any of us: "You can be like God despite His intentions, and He feels threatened by your potential to do this, so He has misled you!"

I think I can argue conclusively that this lure must be incorrect, using fine-spun metaphysics. Eve, in the story, had a personal relationship to God that would have made any metaphysical arguments on my part merely funny to her, if she could hear them. We don't have that kind of relationship anymore, according to that story, because she nevertheless pretended she did not know perfectly well what would happen! (Essentially God had said, "If you cut yourself off from Me by setting yourself in opposition to Me, you will die.") And let me point out that according to the story, Adam didn't even need a discussion: he simply ate!

Both cases are examples of what can happen when people willingly ignore the fact that we can (and should) think cogently: it does not mean we become personally closer to God. It means we are hampering our ability to trust God.

I am a Christian, and I fully believe that by the grace of God--through and as Christ--we don't have to get everything right. But I remember no promise from Him that we don't have to try our best to get everything right with every tool we can find at our disposal. I remember several promises from Him of what would happen to us if we shut our eyes and ears and presume that we nevertheless 'know God'.

So. Reason and belief (even as an aspect of 'religious faith') seem to me to be inextricably linked. Reason and trust (even as an aspect of 'religious faith') seem to me to be in the same boat. [See sixth comment below for a footnote here.] In fact, it seems to me that if reason does not outright produce faith, it is at least a necessary ingredient without which no faith (in any meaningful sense of the word) can exist.

I find fideistic philosophy to be self-contradictory to its adherents' propositions, and therefore I do not accept it; although I cannot prevent an extreme fideist from essentially climbing into a void and pulling the hole in after her.

If God exists, I agree that we can never know and understand everything about Him. But then again it has become obvious that no matter our natural knowledge we will never utterly comprehend Nature, either; yet we still discover plenty of useful and true facts about Nature as far as we have gone.

It is one thing to claim that the sea is infinite; it is another to claim that because it is infinite I cannot drink from it and slake my thirst. It is one thing to claim that a mountain is infinite; it is another to claim that because it is infinite it is not crushing me within a particular strata of rock. Nature shows us that there might be (for all we can tell before we start) an infinite number of facts to be discovered, but not an ultimate impenetrability to discovery. I agree that God, as (by definition) a proposed sentient entity Who can have intentions, might intend that I never discover anything about Him; but then again, He might intend that I can, too. There is no way to tell without making the attempt; and it seems that there would always be at least one thing to discover about God ('if He exists He is otherwise undiscoverable')--which even itself would clearly breach any claim of the complete uselessness of a search for knowledge about Him.

People (even some on my own side) may tell me there is absolutely no way to find Him except through a given set of records. I reply that my own records (shared by very many believers) at least give hints that God did not leave the entire job up to the records (the story certainly tells us He didn't begin even special revelation with the records!); and that any real acceptance of a purely-Scriptural revelatory intent by God on my part would require at least some inferences from me which touch concepts and realities that are not themselves Scripture--and this tells me that at the very least God (if I accept those stories) intended Scripture to be used by us in conjunction with something else (which is also what Scripture seems to tell me); and thus the door is opened to the possibility that someone could come to God without using Scripture. At least it would be impossible to tell otherwise without making the attempt. Claiming otherwise from Scripture itself, requires even in theory that I somehow have some standard to judge Scripture's veracity that is not Scripture; and in practice this always requires that I accept inferences barely connected with Scripture's authority at all. [Footnote: for instance, my parents and teacher and preacher vouch for its authority.]

Taken altogether, this tells me (so far as I have gone) that the attempt can at least be... well... attempted! It is not intrinsically doomed beforehand to utter failure--so, let us see what I can discover.

I also grant that God could simply 'create' a psychological state in my mind that might function like a 'belief'. But it seems to me that such a situation would be incorrigibly alien to all the other instances of 'belief' He allows me to form, to the extent that calling it a 'belief' seems facetious. Furthermore, such a forced 'belief' (if we insist on calling it by that label) violates any foundation of free love that we can return to God. Granted, some of my readers won't care about that concept. But my theistic--including Christian--brothers should care. [Footnote: an active discovery up to even 100% certainty, should that be possible, would be at the least a responsible process by me, leading to my recognition of God as a Person, and would not suddenly abrogate my free choice to love Him or not. "The devils also believe!--and shudder."]

And even if some of my readers insist upon God's ability to create such a 'forced belief' as a hypothetical possibility, it seems to me to be a completely mooted point: it is patently obvious, from the umpty-three variations of religion and anti-religion in our world, that if God exists He does not choose to work that way. I don't consider hypothetical possibilities, obviously refuted by experience, to be bars to inquiry--especially ones I consider to be contradictory pseudo-problems.

This brings up one last issue on the question of whether there is something we can somehow know, before any kind of attempt at discovery is made, about the 'sheer impossibility' of reaching true and useful answers from a reasonable inquiry into God's existence and character. You, my reader, may have noticed that a not-inconsiderable bit of my rejection of this position, hinges on the proposition that even God cannot do what is intrinsically contradictory. Obviously, if I am wrong about this and God can do absolutely contradictory things (...like forcibly inciting a real 'belief' in me which is nevertheless free enough from automatic response on my part that I can truly call it 'my' 'belief' and not, say, God's belief exhibited through me; and that this can somehow nevertheless count as responsible 'knowledge' on my part that God exists and has certain characteristics; and that consequently I need no reasoning at all for purposes of coming to belief...), then my argument that I can at least try to discover something about God by abstract reasoning loses some steam.

This leads me into the question of what it means for God to be omnipotent, which also has some misunderstandings that may need to be cleared up before we continue. And it leads into the whole issue of contradictions in general, which has much more than a minor importance to my forthcoming argument.

Therefore, I think this topic will be a good bridge between these previous few chapters and the next set of 'field-leveling' chapters, as well as to my later sections of positive argumentation.

[Next week: contra contradictions]

How Should I Be A Sceptic -- belief without reason?

[Introductory note from Jason Pratt: the previous entry in this series of posts can be found here. The first entry can be found here.

This entry continues a fourth chapter, begun here. I highly recommend reading at least as far back as this, first.]



It seems to me (as an initial expectation, based on my previous considerations), that every 'real' belief requires an acted inference of some sort on the part of the believer; although the exact inference may not be what the believer claims it is with respect to the belief.

In other words, I question whether there can be any such thing as a real belief that is irrational (in the very limited sense I am using of ‘irrational’.)

As I roll on the ground in delirium after being snakebit, I might be muttering "Snake... in hole..." But that doesn't necessarily mean I actually 'believe' it: because I might not be conscious. The sounds coming out of my mouth might be the same type of non-intended effects-by-association which produced my delirium in the first place.

Dentists and some other physicians (or people like myself who have undergone special forms of anesthesia) know quite well that a human can be unconscious yet still respond to sensory stimulus in a manner not entirely different (but still somewhat different) from how the person might consciously respond. This can even include an anesthetized person answering questions. Yet the person is not conscious; he is purely reacting, not initiating events. Memory artifacts which happen to be processed during this period for retrieval later, might give that person some data to draw inferences from and thus to form beliefs later; but I do not see how the unconscious person as an 'unconscious' person can have a real 'belief' connected to his statement. [See first comment below for a footnote here.]

Similarly, a parrot can react to the environment (given proper prior conditioning) so that it responds with words which have some 'meaning' in connection with the keywords used as stimulus. An unconscious human, having a brain with better capabilities of that sort and a lifetime of already-ingrained habits, could be expected to respond more efficiently as an unconscious entity than the parrot.

But the parrot doesn't have a 'belief about what it is saying'. It might be able to consciously infer that it will get food if it replies correctly to the sensory stimulus, but that is not the same as believing what it is saying. [Footnote: my sceptical reader will probably know of some politicians and religious leaders, who consciously understand they’ll be well fed if they say certain things, but who do not believe what they are saying...!]

Many people would deny the parrot is conscious in any way, and most people would deny it is conscious of what the words mean as human language (rendering it effectively unconscious in that limited respect). Therefore, it either cannot have beliefs about the ideas expressed as English language contained in the words, or if it does it will be by accident. [See second comment below for a footnote here.]

A very few people might suggest the parrot 'believes' what it is 'saying'; but if so, the corollary to this would be that the parrot is conscious of what it is saying and is actively drawing inferences from that conscious perception.

I might even be willing to agree that this happens in the case of particular parrots! But the parrot's belief depended on its conscious perception of the meaning, and a parrot unconscious of the meaning (either by being ignorant of the meaning although otherwise capable of inferences, or by being utterly unconscious and thus completely reactive) could not have a belief linked to the content of the phrase, as such. It would be a contradiction to claim otherwise.

Not only do I therefore think that beliefs certainly can be produced by reasoning (which leaves the door open for me to continue, even without this extension to my chapter); but my further (somewhat more speculative) opinion is that every belief requires a train of reasoning in order to exist.

And 'every belief' includes 'religious belief'.

It seems to me unlikely (even contradictory) that beliefs can really exist without reasoning; therefore, I certainly want my beliefs to have the best reasonings possible (within the limitations of my capabilities, of course.) I have made some effort to discover what other people have tried in this venue, and to puzzle out for myself as much as I can.


Some philosophers, however, would admit much of what I have said above, yet still deny that beliefs necessarily require reasoning. A fideistic theist (for instance) would claim that the sheer action of asserting to a proposition entails a belief; she would reject all support as spurious and debatable, and perhaps even unbecoming the dignity due to God.

Some of my brethren might think this sounds just fine! But notice I said all support. The dedicated fideist would reject scriptural support as well--including doctrines drawn from or backed by Scripture.

Most of my Presuppositionalistic fellow-believers would at least say "I believe God has such-n-such characteristics because the Bible tells me so, or because such a presupposition is the only way that a non-crashing reality (or at least certain aspects of reality) could exist."

But the fideist would reject both of these supports. She flatly asserts God's existence; she denies (at least for as long as she remembers the implications of her stance) that any definite characteristics of God can be discovered through any means. She would say that even His existence cannot be discovered; and that even she has not 'discovered' it. She would say she purely asserts it, without proof, argument, or even evidence. [See third comment below for a footnote here.]

There are several reasons for a person to choose fideism. She might have been exposed to numerous strong counterarguments involving every support to her theism, and so to ‘protect her belief' she renounces all supports other than flat assertion.

Or, she might advocate one of the theories about the unfeasibility of reasoning-to-God that I have been discussing during the previous chapters, and take such a stance to the ultimate conclusion that no reasoning at all can support theism (so if she is going to remain a theist, she must abandon all supports).

Relatedly, if by taking a faith/reason disparity to its ultimate end she decides that faith must mean pure assertion, then she would reject anything except pure assertion.

She might also choose this path because she wants to recognize God's glory and/or believes the highest level of trust (or similar personal relationship with God) involves 'faith without any supports'. But remember, 'without any supports' means without Scriptural support, too, as far as the robust fideist is concerned.

There could well be other reasons to be a fideist. My goal here is not to launch ripostes against every possible reason to be a fideist. That isn't necessary, because every fideist stance has an intrinsic problem that transcends particular reasons for being a fideist:

The fideist invariably has reasons for choosing to be a fideist.

In essence, the fideist has the same problem as a more traditional 'faith-only' theist: both groups have particular beliefs about God (and religion in general) which are based on inferences they have drawn--their beliefs are in fact derived through reasoning. Indeed, a fideist may have long recognized the hidden inferences that a more traditional 'faith-not-reason' advocate doesn't recognize he himself has. What she then does (provided this is the particular path to fideism she follows), is draw an inference from the unintentional error of her fellow-believer to the conclusion that she must rid herself of what is obviously yet another reason to accept God's existence and character (for example, "the Bible tells me so").

But in doing so, she has still grounded her belief through a chain of inferences herself.

For instance: "If faith should be kept separate from reason, and if I discover that traditional faith-not-reason positions actually use reasons, then I should also renounce those reasons." But her 'if-then' is itself an inferential path and so is itself a 'reason' to be a fideistic theist rather than some other kind of theist.

The attempt must fail: no matter how well-intended the fideist may be, she cannot successfully argue that our beliefs and attitudes toward God should not and/or cannot be grounded on reasons--because she will be tacitly ignoring the chain of reasoning that led her to her own attitude and belief about God (including the inferences which led her to accept a faith/reason disparity in the first place).

Other routes to fideism carry the same intrinsic fallacy, although the expression of the fallacy will differ according to the path taken. Of course, having gotten to fideism, our philosopher (she would probably not consider herself as having anything to do with 'religion' in a 'real' fashion, although she might still appreciate it aesthetically) could make a blanket raw assertion of being "a fideist"--a "believer in God", per se.

But I think 99% of the time she will find herself explaining to the non-fideist why she is a fideist and perhaps even why the non-fideist should also reject all support of God's existence. And this immediately undercuts her position at the most fundamental of levels: by claiming God's existence and character cannot be discovered by reason, she herself makes a positive characteristic claim about God which she almost always will try to justify by showing her reasons for that stance.


What about my hypothetical 1% of fideists who refuse to give any reasons at all for being a fideist?--who, when asked "Why do you hold this belief?" respond "There is no why; I just do."

I know this cannot help but sound insulting to them, but I am not sure these 'hyperfideists' have a 'belief' either in or about God at all.

To begin with, when other topics are discussed I see very clearly that sheer assertions are not necessarily beliefs. I can quite easily assert "The sun and all the stars revolve around the earth" without believing it myself.

And if an assertion is not necessarily a belief, how am I to agree that a hyperfideist does have a belief? A further discussion beyond the flat assertion requires some kind of inferential analysis, which means a justification on the part of the fideist. But the extreme fideist will not provide any justification, because she understands perfectly well that such an act would undercut her claimed position of 'faith without justification'. But without some kind of inferential train to follow, I have no way of discerning whether her flat assertion reflects some kind of a belief on her part or not.

Second, a belief must have content; propositions must be accepted. A fideist's position either has content, or it does not (and with no content there simply is no position). Typically the fideist has one content to her belief: God exists. [Footnote: actually, she would claim another content as well, although the claim might be only implicit: God is such that no reasoning about God can reach true conclusions.]

But existence is a positive characteristic, even if the most basic of characteristics. Why stop there? Why not make other assertions?

The fideist will say she can have no grounds for making those other assertions. But then, she can have no grounds (specifically as a fideist) for asserting God's existence, either. If she refuses to assign other characteristics to God because no grounds can be sufficient for those characteristics, why does she assign the characteristic of 'existence'?

If she follows the actual implications of her position, she ends either with a mere zero (indistinguishable from atheism in all but name) or with an ultimately arbitrary set of characteristics (even if that set only contains one characteristic: existence. Plus the tacit characteristic of ‘no reasoning about God can reach true conclusions, of course.) If the propositions are arbitrary, then what use is it to say she 'believes' them?

She has no grounds for belief and she restricts content for the belief in a fashion that, if rigorously applied, ends with the removal of even the characteristic of 'existence' from her idea of God. Thus, what she calls her 'belief' is either utterly alien to any concept of 'belief' I can understand or even imagine; or else she is fudging, whereupon she might as well try to figure out as much as she can of God's characteristics by reasoning.


And that leads me to one more conclusion about fideism: if it is held rigorously as fideism, it is inaccessible to other people. In fact, technically it should have been inaccessible to our fideist, too! But given (for sake of argument) she has reached that point, the content of her position (such as it is) renders further cogent discussion impossible--or else, not without cheating a bit.

At the very best, if fideism is correct, it is impossible for someone not a fideist to know it is correct (I would say it is also impossible for the fideist herself to know it is correct, as long as she sticks to the implications of her assertion); and therefore I cannot be faulted (on that ground at least) for continuing to derive and reinforce my (and other people's) beliefs about God through reasoning.


There is one possible fideist 'justification' (I know no other apt description for it) which could also be held by other philosophers, be they religious or not: if an ultimately transcendent God does exist, then it would be arrogant fatuity for me, or any other thinker, to claim that particular characteristics of God can be known or at least discovered.

I have plenty of sympathy for this view, because I do believe in God's ultimate and infinite transcendence. At least, I accept that unless we are discussing that type of God, we are not yet discussing supernaturalistic theism. [See fourth comment below for a footnote here.]

The question here is whether God's characteristic(s) as an Ultimate Being necessarily prevent us from discovering any positive characteristic about Him. And I immediately point my reader back to an earlier discussion of mine on this topic: whoever holds this position must have discovered at least one positive characteristic about God--He is such that no other positive characteristics may be discovered. Otherwise, if characteristics are merely asserted, then we are only playing word games about we-cannot-say-what, and we might as well become atheists.

My simple assertion "God exists" does not make God exist. Nor does any reasoning I do about God, of course; but then, I am looking to discover particular characteristics of God (characteristics I have not invented) through this process. The sheer asserter does not claim to be discovering any facts about God--she is only asserting them. But one of the things the sheer asserter is sheerly asserting, is that no reasoning can discover attributes of God. If there is no defense for this position (and by its own character there can be no defense) then I may safely continue.

But does this absolve me from the arrogance of claiming I can discover something about God? Yes; or at least I will be no more arrogant than the fideist who either has discovered one particular fact about God ('no other particular fact may be discovered') or who sheerly asserts this proposition as being itself a fact.

Personally, I would consider the sheer assertion of anything, to be potentially more arrogant (if we must talk of such attitudes) than any process of potential discovery, which at least might be qualified (as I try to constantly do in my own work). I certainly think a person, be she sceptic or believer, might possibly humbly search out a trail where it leads without forcing the issue. The discovery of God's existence and attributes (even the discovery of God's non-existence, if that is where the evidence leads) need not necessarily be an exercise in prideful self-acclimation.

[Next week: a return to religious belief and reasoning]

How Should I Be A Sceptic -- a question of external validation of reasoning

[Introductory note from Jason Pratt: the previous entry in this series of posts can be found here. The first entry can be found here.

This entry continues a fourth chapter, begun here. I highly recommend reading at least as far back as this, first.]


If my brother, Spencer, thinks he has good grounds for believing that my belief of a snake in the hole has been fostered purely from a cocaine-fit, then he would not (or at least should not) be embarrassed to discover there was, after all, a snake in the hole. He had no good reason to believe the snake was there.

Furthermore, my argument that he (and I) should stay away from the hole was ultimately untrustworthy. The form of the argument that we should stay away from the hole was not itself invalid; but without the anchor of rationality at the beginning, there was no good reason to pay attention either to my initial belief ("a snake is in the hole") or to my consequent inferred belief ("we should stay away from the hole")--despite the fact that my second belief was, as far as it went, rational!

In other words, there would be no good reason for Spencer to pay attention to my idea with respect to what it claimed to be--or more precisely, what I claimed for it. There would be no good reason for Spencer to pay attention to me.

Spencer certainly could pay attention to, and draw useful inferences from, the real character of my belief, insofar as he perceived it. For instance, he might conclude: "I'd better not let Jason drive the golf-cart! He's whacked out of his gourd!"

But this is a refusal to take my belief seriously. The form of my subsidiary belief ("We shouldn't go near the hole!") would admittedly 'hold water'; but there would be no 'water' to hold, because the original cornerstone belief was not rationally produced. The framework or structure would stand, but it has nothing to properly 'stand' on. [see first comment below for an extended footnote]

What sort of 'water' would be needed for my inference ("We shouldn't go near the hole!") to be even potentially trustworthy? (It might still be mistaken, of course.) What kind of foundation would give the valid framework something to 'stand' on?

The answer can be found with only a little introspection on how we ourselves evaluate such claims every day: the foundational belief must itself be rational. It must be initiated--or, alternately, it must be judged by another initiator to be worthwhile despite its non-rational causation. [see second comment below for a footnote here]

If Spencer asks me why I think there is a snake in the hole, and I tell him I witnessed a group of old ladies in front of us run screaming "Snake! Snake!" off the green after one of them tried to retrieve a ball from the hole, and that as far as I could tell they didn't know we were there (and so probably weren't trying to play a trick on us); then not only would I have a rational belief (even if mistaken), but Spencer (as an initiator himself) can judge my 'reasons' and make his own decisions as to their potential trustworthiness. Now a subsidiary or consequent belief--that we should not get near the hole--may potentially be worth accepting. [Footnote: notice that although such judgments may happen so quickly that the ‘form’ of the judgment is not perceptible to the thinker, in principle they are not automatic despite their speed--they still involve an action by the judger.]

On the other hand, let us say Spencer finds me lying on the green near the hole. I am all swollen up, shaking and sweating. I am muttering "Snake... in hole..."

My claim that a snake is in the hole might be produced entirely by the interaction of a fever or other delirium-inducing physical effect with my brain, combined with neurophysical associations brought about by 'golf course' sensory input. [Footnote: once, while in a flu-fever, the sound of a woodpecker outside my window mis-associated itself, with the result that I saw a rattlesnake jump at me from the ceiling-fan over my bed! I probably said something loudly, too...]

However, Spencer could still put this bit of data together with other bits of data (perhaps including a rattling sound in the hole) to conclude that there is a snake in the hole, it bit me, and that has caused my delirium.

In this case, my foundational 'belief' (if it can be properly called 'a belief' in the end--see below! [later in the chapter, to be given in future journal entry]) was, per this example, a non-rationally produced effect and thus an irrational belief; but my brother, being a rational agent, found it to have an accuracy that happened (due to the characteristics of the situation) to correspond with my claim--despite the nominally irrational quality of my belief. My belief was irrational; Spencer's was not. But the rationality of his belief depended on his ability to act in judgment of the data, not merely to react and counterreact automatically to stimulus. (And notice that we could both still be incorrect.)

Yet there is at least one more variation for this situation. I have been building on the cocaine-induced delusion as my example, and contrasting it with some other options, because it was a relatively easy and colorfully humorous way to illustrate certain principles. However, let us now suppose that my first belief ('a snake is in the hole') was produced in me through the following process.

As I walk over to the hole, on the golf course, and bend down to look in, photons ricocheting back from something within the hole careen through my eyes, strike my optic nerves, and send impulses back into my brain. These impulses react and counterreact with other electrochemical potentialities in my brain, which happen (however they got there) to be linked associatively with certain external facts of reality: the existence of golf courses, and of entities often found on golf courses. The result of this set of electrochemical reactions, is the establishment of a new psychophysical state within my brain: a state that corresponds (in whatever fashion) to the belief 'a snake is in the hole'.

So: is this belief of mine rational, or irrational?

Now I have reached a crucial distinction between philosophies, in relation to human mental behavior. I could, here, skip on to the beginning of Section Two, where I will discuss issues of this sort with an eye toward deductive conclusions (if any). My goal for this chapter (and this Section) is considerably less extensive, however; and so I will content myself, for now, with the following observations.

So long as we are merely discussing my own behavior as an individual entity, I think this example falls clearly enough into the same category as the cocaine-induced delusion. The chief distinction between that prior example and this new situation, is that the environmental linkages in that prior example were secondary causes of the belief ('a snake is in the hole') rather than primary causes as in this new example. Yet the prior example of a belief did specifically depend, for its shape, on those secondary causes--the cocaine would not have produced that particular paranoia in me without relevant sensory data for the chemicals to 'work' with.

What I am effectively proposing, in this new example, is the cocaine-induced delusion--except without the cocaine. The sensory impressions themselves are proposed to be the primary cause of my belief.

And I think we should be very cautious about considering such a subsequent belief in me, caused in this fashion, to be 'rational'. These sensory impressions are as non-rational in causation as the cocaine reactions. That they happen to correspond accurately to an external fact (barring, for this example, the possibility of an illusion or other mistake), is no proper ground for calling the subsequent belief 'rational'--any more than it was a proper ground when the cocaine-induced belief happened to correspond to the existence of an actual snake in the hole.

If we say that such a correspondence was accidental, but that this new correspondence is true to the fact from which it directly results; then I reply that when I was rolling on the ground in a delirium thanks to having been snakebit, my delirium was proposed (at the time) to have been a pure reaction to environmental stimulus, not a rational judgment on my part--and yet in that case, the environmental stimulus to which I was reacting was also entirely “true” in relation to its mental result. I was on a golf course; and there was a snake in the hole; and those facts caused, in one fashion, my reactive state of 'belief'. Now in my new example, the environmental stimulus once again has caused my reactive 'belief', and once again the correspondence is proposed to be entirely true. Yet this type of situation had resulted in an irrational belief on my part before. What is the qualitative difference in this new case?

I think it is obvious that there is no qualitative difference; which has implications about the 'rationality' of my belief.

It might be very tempting for you, my reader, to claim 'rationality' of my belief despite the fully non-rational causation of my new proposed example. It would be easy, for instance, to slide from a rational judgment on your part, into ascribing the quality of 'rationality' to my belief. But this would be the externalistic fallacy. Spencer, in my previous example, might be able to verify the accuracy of my belief for me; but his rational verification is not my rational belief.

Consequently, even in the case of this new descriptive explanation for the existence of a 'belief' in my mind, I do not think it would be proper to claim this belief to be 'rational'.

But of course, this type of descriptive explanation for the existence of a belief in my mind, is not restrained merely to my own individual behaviors as an entity. Rather, this type of process--non-rational in characteristic (even if more complex in actuality)--is often proposed and defended as being the basic process explanation of all human reasoning (yours and mine included); and the explanation is proposed in direct relation to characteristic properties of fundamental reality.

However, I am not interested (yet) in discussing this far-reaching proposition, or any alternatives. My goal for this chapter is much simpler; and I think I have demonstrated it sufficiently for my current purposes.

What I have demonstrated (which most of my readers wouldn't have disagreed with anyway, but this is how a systematic argument proceeds), is that a belief, far from being necessarily mutually exclusive to reason, can depend upon reasoning--the action (or at least the event) of drawing inferences.

This already directly parries the contention that faith and reason must, by some type of psychological or philosophical necessity, be mutually exclusive (even if not directly opposed). A faith always is a type of belief (the two terms are sometimes completely equivalent), and a belief can be the result of reasoning. Unless the sceptic wishes to merely flatly assert that religious beliefs must be mutually exclusive to reason (whereupon I have no reason to believe him, and thus no reason not to continue), then for all we know a particular person's religious faith might be based upon (and not be mutually exclusive to) reasoning.

The faith may not be based on very accurate reasoning; I might still be mistaken either in the facts or the principles I think I know; and/or in the methods by which I attempt to reach my conclusion. That doesn't stop it being a belief (a 'faith') based on reasoning.

Thus, the question of whether my reasoning is worthwhile should be deferred until I actually explain my reasoning about the topic; yet it does clear the way for me to continue without being excluded from contention before-the-fact merely because I have a faith in God.

But I can go even further with this, although now I enter a more speculative vein.


[Next week: so, a belief (including a religious faith) can be a result of reasoning; but can I have a belief (including a religious faith) without reasoning?]

How Should I Be A Sceptic -- belief and reason

[Introductory note from Jason Pratt: the previous entry in this series of posts can be found here. The first entry can be found here.]


Having explained why, as a Christian, I do not hold to what many people (Christian and sceptic) have considered the 'party line' that reason and faith are mutually exclusive, I will now explore this issue from a deeper philosophical perspective.

A Christian (or other religious theist) who accepts a faith/reason disparity will usually do so for religious reasons. His argument that these two aspects must be mutually exclusive (or at least need not have anything to do with each other) will be grounded on positions and presumptions which usually proceed from a devout loyalty to God's status, or from authority of specifically religious leaders, or from the structure of religious ritual, or some combination thereof.

And a sceptic who accepts a faith/reason disparity might do so only because, as far as he can tell, his opposition has chosen that ground. However, since I obviously do not advocate a faith/reason disparity, this type of sceptic would agree that I can continue with an attempt to build an argument that might arrive at God's existence and characteristics. (Though he might perhaps be able to nix my attempt later on other grounds, of course.)

But some sceptics (and even some people who profess God's existence) accept a faith/reason disparity on different grounds. So, I will need to consider whether (and why) I should consider this to be a facetious division under any conditions, even apart from specifically religious grounding.

The word 'faith' can hold a number of discreet (yet related) meanings. These meanings often become fused (and confused!), and this makes it hard to have a straight discussion about what faith 'is'.

I will try to disentangle this mare's nest by talking not of 'faith', but of 'belief' and 'trust'. And, since I have not yet even begun to infer the existence and character of Someone for us to put personal trust in, I will be concentrating on the ‘belief’ aspect of ‘faith’ in immediately forthcoming entries.

The event we call 'belief' either can be a person's active acceptance of an inference; or it can be an impression of perceived 'reality' to which future mental events will correspond. The second condition--the 'impression'--would be an 'irrational' belief, because it was produced purely as an automatic response to a combination of prior events. [See first comment below for an extended footnote here.]

So, to use an old Robin Williams comedy routine as an example: the chemical known as cocaine could, in interaction with my neurochemistry, release certain electrochemical impulses. And these impulses could be connected by physical association to other reactions currently taking place in my brain, which are resulting from the sensory impressions produced by my being on a golf course.

As a result, a 'belief' might develop within me to this effect: there is a snake in the hole of the 14th green.

This 'belief' would be a real, objective event happening in my brain, and in my psychology of perception. But it would be an irrational belief (in the stringent and particular sense in which I am using the word ‘irrational’), because it would have been produced purely as an unintended by-product of non-rational biochemical reactions.

Please notice: this does not mean the content of my belief would necessarily be false! There might in fact be a snake in the hole of the 14th green.

But if there was a snake in that hole as an actual fact, it nevertheless would have had virtually no connection to my belief (in this example), except in terms of incidental environmental linkage: the particular 'shape' of my delusion would have depended on my being on the golf course, where such things as 'greens', 'cups', and 'snakes' may be found. [See second comment below for a footnote here.]

As a persistent state or event in my psychology, this belief could itself be a building block, either for more irrational beliefs or for rational beliefs (as far as they go).

For instance, the cocaine, or the chain-reaction it started, might continue by 'using' this new mental state as the basis for a new round of association. ("Someone is out to get me and has put a snake in the hole!") This new belief would, by virtue of its cause(s), be just as irrational as the first one, although no less an objectively real event (considered as itself).

Or, I might actively analyze this first belief-impression and draw inferences from it to new conclusions: for example, "If snake is in hole, then dangerous to be near hole. If dangerous, I could get hurt. If I don't want to get hurt, stay away from hole." As a result of accepting this inference, I could then actively arrive at a new belief: "I should stay away from the hole."

Notice that this inference is valid and true, as far as it goes. It becomes false only if the first qualifier ("if snake is in hole") becomes a presumption ("snake is in hole") and only if that presumption itself happens to be false. (The form of the inference would still be valid, however, even though the conclusion was falsified thanks to false initial data.)

However, is this second mental state rational or irrational?

If I say my second belief ("I should stay away from the hole") is rational as opposed to irrational, what can I mean? Why can the second belief ("I should stay away from the hole") be 'rational', as opposed to the first 'irrational' belief ("A snake is in that hole")?

Does it depend on whether the second belief matches reality?

No. The snake may or may not be there: I may have made a mistake. But a mistake is not necessarily irrational. If I am adding up one hundred and twenty-seven different figures, and I take a break in the middle to answer the phone, and then start up again at the wrong place, my process is not therefore rendered irrational. This will be so, even if the cornerstone position is a mistaken assertion ("a snake is in the hole").

Remember that the belief in question-of-rationality here, is not whether a snake is in the hole, but whether it is dangerous for me to get near the hole. I have already admitted (as far as this example has gone) that the original belief ("a snake is in the hole") is a non-rationally produced chemical by-product of cocaine's interaction with my neurochemistry. Such an event (in the terms I have been describing it) is not an inference, although it can produce psychological states similar to states produced by inferences. [See third comment below for an extended footnote here.] The question is whether my subsequent belief ("I should stay away from the hole") is irrational, and if so under what conditions.

Well then, is it a question of whether the original cornerstone belief is itself irrationally produced--does that necessarily make the subsequent mental event ("Snake, thus dangerous" or "If snake, then dangerous") irrational?

No. The first belief has already been established as a bit of data in my mind; I am using that bit of data (although I may not recognize its non-rational source) as part of the inference.

To understand this, consider the characteristics of that original mental event--the cocaine-induced delusion that there is a snake in the hole. The physical reactions and counterreactions linked to the emergence of the belief, are not much different in physical representation than those which would accompany an inference from data.

Here are two examples of inference events: I look in the hole and see something I then judge to be a snake. Or, I hear a report of a snake in the hole from someone, and afterward I judge from other evidence the reliability of this person's report.

Either example leaves behind a persistent physical state in my brain that is not much different from what a cocaine-induced delusion leaves behind. In fact, either example might even leave the exact same result. [Footnote: an observation that will also have an important bearing on a discussion of supernature and evidence much later.] If that is so, however, then what is the qualitative difference?

The difference is my intent, or my initiative.

The cocaine has no intent. Its chemicals are just going about their non-intentional ‘business’; which happened, in conjunction with non-intentional sensory input, to produce a belief-by-association ("a snake is in the hole").

But the second belief ("I should stay away from the hole") is different, because by default I am presuming that 'I' (whatever it means to be 'myself') am initiating an action of inference.

Doubtless, the entire process is not an action I am initiating; there are still non-intended reactions and counterreactions taking place (the sensory input reactions in my head, for instance). Also, some philosophers and scientists would claim that my ability to initiate actions is itself derived entirely from non-intentional automatic reactions and counterreactions. [Footnote: I will discuss this contention much later. My point here is that I agree, that at least some non-intentive behaviors are taking place inside my head even when I am thinking ‘rationally’.]

But however it got there, that second belief ("I should stay away from the hole") represents at least one action on my part, not merely reactions. [See fourth comment below for a footnote here.]

Now, as I have already illustrated, a belief's quality of 'rational' or 'irrational' does not necessarily need to involve positive accuracy about the objectively real facts. There may or may not be a snake in that hole. Even if my belief is rational, I might be mistaken. On the other hand, even if my belief is non-rationally produced, I might still be 'correct'; even though only by accident.

However, most people in most circumstances accept and understand that a non-rationally produced belief cannot be trusted very far to deliver an answer worth listening to, in and of itself. It may exhibit many other qualities; but a non-rationally produced belief cannot be trusted with respect to what it 'claims' to be--even if the belief happens to be accurate with respect to facts, or even beneficial.

Such a belief might possibly be trusted on grounds different from what the belief tacitly claims to be, of course. This is an important distinction, and I will discuss it in my continuation next week.


[Next week: so I, my brother Spencer, a snake, and a bunch of women golfers, walk into a bar... er, onto the 14th green... {g}]

How Should I Be A Sceptic -- an important recognition about religious faith

[Introductory note from Jason Pratt: the previous entry in this series of posts can be found here. The first entry can be found here.

For connectivity purposes, I am beginning this entry by reprinting the last few sentences from the previous entry.]

As I have just illustrated, a denial of a link between faith and reason not only erects an unnecessary barrier between a sceptic and the truth (as I think Christianity to be), but also undermines any claim Christianity (or any other theism) may have to truth--even if we stick to a 'simple' faith.

But an even more pernicious problem rises in this situation; and although a believer of this sort [who dichotomizes faith and reason] may not recognize it, the sceptic very probably will:


This type of believer does in fact have a 'faith' based on reasoning!


This will be concealed from him by the fact that he is taught to distrust (or ignore) complex metaphysical and philosophical theorems, as being 'proof' or 'evidence' or 'reasoning'. It rarely occurs to him that he nevertheless all this time has been accepting evidence, and from this evidence has been drawing conclusions about the truths of Christianity.

This 'evidence' is (usually) the testimony of his teachers, preachers, friends and/or family. He may believe in Christianity because the Bible tells him so. But he believes the Bible to be trustworthy, not because the Bible tells him so, but because other people have told him so. And these are not just any people, but people who (for one reason or another) he has concluded are trustworthy! [Footnote: I do not discount witnessing by God directly via the Holy Spirit; but I will be discussing it much later. Until then, I will briefly say here that it falls into the same category of belief-formation process.]

Now I grant you, that if he bothered to trace back these habitually quick and long-ingrained inferences, the believer might decide that such inferences are not very strong. Indeed, many sceptics are sceptics today precisely because they have discovered this for themselves; or (worse) because such underlying weaknesses were rudely forced upon them when they were betrayed (to one degree or another) by those people, and thereby lost their trust in them!

But there is a significant difference between having weak reasons (whether actually or only perceptively so) and having no reasons at all.

A rock quite literally can have no reasons at all to believe in Christianity; therefore it does not believe.

A 3rd century aborigine in the Australian Outback is very far ahead of the rock: she at least has the capability to infer conclusions from data (be it testimony or abstract argumentation or experimentation or whatnot). Nevertheless, she has access to none of these things concerning Christianity. She really does have no available reasons at all (no data and thus no inferences to be drawn from the data) to believe in Christianity; therefore she does not believe. [Footnote: of course, she will have reasons to believe her own religious propositions instead; including possibly a tacit monotheism in the background. But folk anthropological analysis of latent monotheisms is a whole other vast discussion, and one for a different kind of specialist.]

However, a person raised from childhood in (for instance) a small-town Southern Baptist or Assembly of God church, even if he rejects or ignores detailed argumentation in favor of God's existence and character, nevertheless does have reasons to believe: his parents and preacher and teachers tell him it is true, and so far he has found them to be reliable.

But these inferences are so simple, and easy, and common, and habitual, that he does not recognize their existence as such; and obviously his instructors are either in the same boat, or have a vested interest in not admitting they have no stronger grounds to use.

[Footnote: for that matter, they might not mention stronger grounds even when they do have them; because they either know their student lacks the mental acuity to handle the stronger (tougher) arguments, or because they lack confidence in their ability to teach the stronger arguments themselves.]


None of this, however, can be of much help to the sceptic: how many mission outreach programs consist of going to door-to-door and (overtly) saying, "You should accept Christianity and the Bible because my preacher says it is true"?

Yet, this is ultimately what most witnessing, and most training within the Church, boils down to.

And once a sceptic perceives this, she will not say Christians have no reason to believe (she might, deep down, respect that with a sympathetically defiant attitude); but rather, Christians have singularly weak and puny reasons to believe--which is much worse! And to top it off, she will probably treat such witnesses as hypocrites or fools, for she can quite clearly see that they are in fact accepting reasons to believe; yet they piously tell her that she must be like them, and trust God with 'faith' instead of 'reason'!


I also reject this strategy, of dividing and dichotomizing between reasoning and religious belief, because it repudiates Scripture itself [Footnote: at any rate the scriptures I and most other Christians consider to be authoritative], up to and including the methods of Our Lord.

In the Old Testament narratives, God gives plenty of evidence to His people; not in formal logical disputation, of course, because those formal mental tools had not yet been developed and propagated. Yet He becomes angry with them, not because they keep asking for proof and signs, but because they are not willing to believe (and do the right thing) once they have the proof and signs! The miracles of the prophets are intended to be treated as evidence by the people, that what the prophets are saying is truly from God. [See first comment below for an extended footnote here.]

This concept carries on into the New Testament, where the miracles of Jesus and the Apostles function not only to relieve the burdens of groups and individuals, but also as "attesting signs" for the people to use as evidence. [Footnote: though as a fairly constant characterization across the texts, Jesus does not do miracles primarily for attestation purposes; and indeed often flatly rejects requests or demands for such validation. His appeal to the works as evidence is important, but avowedly secondary.] Again, granted, it is a different kind of evidence than what we in the modern West typically find (though this type of evidentiality still plays a significant role in belief-arrival, pro or con, within or without orthodox Christianity and its various branches, even in the modern West!) But it is still evidence, from which God (in the Biblical accounts) expects the people to draw rational inferences.

Jesus warns the people in the fourth chapter of Mark (and in the eighth chapter of Luke, which recounts the same speech in somewhat different words) that they will be held responsible for what and why they believe; and that if they fall into error because they just don't want to bother to figure out the truth for themselves, they will have only themselves to blame for the consequences! [See second comment below for an extended footnote here.]

Another time (reported in John 10:19-39), Jesus sarcastically asks his accusers which mighty work of God they are about to stone him for. They reply that they are going to stone him for what they believe to be a blasphemous remark concerning his self-identification. He counter-replies that he has given them loads of attesting signs (i.e., he has given them evidence), in the form of miracles, practical wisdom, etc., that show he is from God and so what he has said therefore cannot be blasphemy, even if it looks like it at the moment. His enemies cannot argue with his supernatural power; but they cannot accept his (increasingly less obscure) statements about his relationship to God, either. So they accuse him of black (Satanically provided) magic--despite his obvious good works and animosity to possessing devils. [See third comment below for an extended footnote here.]

After the resurrection, Jesus seems to rebuke Thomas' requirement of absolute evidence and pronounces a blessing on those who haven't seen and yet who believe (John 20:19-29). [Footnote: in fact, there is no rebuke of Thomas specifically mentioned here; although there is a strong rebuke toward the unbelieving apostles in general presented in the late Marcan epilogue-summary (Mark 16:14).] But was Thomas a speculative philosopher trying to find the truth? No: according to the story he was a man who already believed in God and the Hebrew Scriptures (including, to at least some degree, the advent of the Messiah); who had seen Jesus do amazing things for years; who had heard Jesus occasionally predict one more amazing thing; who had heard testimony from his closest companions that Jesus had indeed done this one more amazing thing; and then had required absolutely irrefutable proof. This is a man who, given 99% assurance, withheld any assent until he received 100% assurance--which is the same as saying that he would never choose to believe, no matter how good the evidence: that someone would have to make him 'believe'. No wonder Jesus was gently ironic! [Footnote: possibly not only to Thomas but toward the other disciples as well--for there had been many more than one ‘doubting Thomas’ in that group who had required absolute evidence rather than a personal trust!] And let us remember that Thomas did give a stronger assent to the evidence than any other character in the narratives: "The Lord of me, and the God of me." [See fourth comment below for an extended footnote here.]

Does this end with Jesus? No--his first Apostles are given supernatural power to help spread the gospel: these people could back their testimony with attesting signs, from which evidence the people were intended to infer conclusions.

It is true that in these stories, we do not find wire-thin metaphysical disputation; but neither was it needed, nor (culturally) had it been largely developed yet, and the general populations (for whom the scriptural documents were written) would by and large not have understood it. They get what they need; and in fact most often they already believed in the Hebrew God and the Hebrew Scriptures, to one degree or another, so that is where the reported arguments focus.

On the other hand, Luke reports Paul's statements at the Mars Hill forum, for example, presumably because those statements are still accessible to most everyone. [See fifth comment below for an extended footnote here.] The letters of the New Testament are written to people already converted, and so largely touch other matters. [Footnote: not that St. Paul never engages in tough disputation--his epistle to the Romans is a famous example--but it still isn’t formal in the sense we would recognize it, and his goal is still different from establishment apologetics.] Beyond the canon, some of the later writings of the Apostolic Fathers (to whom many denominations accord major authority) feature essays and letters written to begin arguing their case philosophically to pagan authorities and audiences; Justin Martyr's apology to the Roman Emperor is a good example.

I would agree, of course, that any metaphysical disputes carried out by the first Christians would be different in shape and thrust (though not completely so) than today's arguments would be. I deny that such disputes must not have ever taken place and (more importantly) I deny that they could have no Divinely approved effect; and I certainly deny that drawing inferences from evidence cannot lead to an acceptance of Christian truth--not because I reject Scripture's authority, but because I accept what its writers have reported.

In this way, I hope I have explained sufficiently to my Christian (and, to some degree, my other theistic) brethren why attempts such as mine, or those of other ‘classical’ apologists, may be possibly useful; while I have also shown why no sceptic should be surprised at being unable to use this popular stance against me, taken from the mouths of 'Christians' themselves.

But perhaps a sceptic of 'religion' may have his own (non-religious) reasons to regard faith and reason as being mutually exclusive; and so I might as well give up and go home early rather than continue with an argument that might turn out to be in favor of God's existence and character. To this issue I now turn for my next chapter.

[Next week: beliefs (generally) and reasoning.]

How Should I Be a Sceptic -- one brief history of the reason/faith dichotomy

[Introductory note from Jason Pratt: the previous entry in this series of posts can be found here. The first entry can be found here.]

There are many devout people who rightly (I believe) value a faith in God above all other possessions, but who will also see my attempts as striking against a true relationship with God.

I think they are quite correct (as I will discuss much later) that it is better to have a living relationship with God and to work with Him, than only to understand God in some technical sense. Furthermore, I agree that if it is possible to discover the existence and character of God by reasoning from neutral propositions, this neither can nor shall ultimately benefit the thinker unless he takes the next step and chooses to work with God personally. [See first comment below for a footnote here.]

But although I agree with these notions, I do not think it logically follows from these notions that such a discovery by logical analysis must necessarily fail. Consequently, these notions do not stand in the way of making attempts along this line.

Yet again, for some people, that is just the problem with my attempt: I am using reason to build (or to build up) faith, and they have been taught all their lives that faith and reason are mutually exclusive. These people would say, at best, that my book must fail to reach any useful conclusion; maybe even that I am blaspheming by even suggesting that human reason can search out the Infinite.

This sort of opinion comes and goes throughout Christianity's history. [Footnote: it certainly isn’t restricted to the history of Christianity, but it seems best for me to focus there, as a Christian apologist.] In this case, it last rose in ascendance between the middle of the 17th century and the beginning of the 19th, where it climaxed into a supposed schism between 'religion' and 'science'.

The roots of the widespread acceptance of this strategy are too complex for more than a brief summary in this entry. But the result was that during this period great sceptical thinkers were becoming more numerous than they had ever been previously; great sceptical moralists were culminating a barrage on the abuses of the various branches of the Church (and there were certainly abuses taking place for them to legitimately snipe at); and the Church had managed to remove or suppress the majority of its own great thinkers who might have met the opposition steel-for-steel in philosophical dispute.

The various branches of the Church became aware that they were losing ground. They had to choose between educating people to be able to take care of themselves (because people were becoming increasingly exposed to alternate viewpoints in the media--a situation obviously still in effect today); or else setting up an ideological fortress mentality.

But the branches had previously, in their complacency, let the opposition get too far ahead for anything less than a multi-generation educational program to work. They had few resources to begin such a task, and such a plan might entail the loss of massive numbers of people from the Church until the regrouping and regrowth could be established--and I remind the sceptic that most Christians would equate such a departure with the damning of those souls. [See second comment below for a footnote here.]

Aside from all this, such a program would have had serious political ramifications; and the Church at that time, although divesting itself (slowly) from the political arena, was still very much more a political creature than we find her today. [See third comment below for a footnote here.]

Thus, erecting a fortress mentality must have seemed the safest, quickest, most (relatively) effective means of ensuring that as many people as possible were not deceived by these opponents and, thereby, lose their souls. And, when it came to it, these new generations of vocal opposition were formidably skilled; disputing with them would be dangerous and difficult. [See fourth comment below for a footnote here.]

So, near the turn into the 19th century, we find a long-running development in Western thought to the effect that religious 'Faith' and intellectual 'Reasoning' must be considered to be mutually exclusive operations. [See fifth comment below for a footnote here.]

Naturally, this sort of lesson went down very smoothly for the vast numbers of people who had no great mental strength or training themselves: they need not worry about the arguments of the opposition (or even worry about the scripturally sanctioned duty of understanding their own position as well as they can); for they have Faith. [Footnote: I still have had to be very brief, even overly brief, in covering this issue; though hopefully I have done so in a fashion that a sceptic will find recognizeable.]

It would be a caricature (although one occasionally employed by sceptics who prefer dealing with straw men) to say this is the final position of any Christian since those times--or at least (they might say) the final position of any Christian who really is a Christian and is not really something else (merely claiming Christian coloring for, say, political purposes or social standing).

But there have also been Christians responding against this dichotomous division of principle, especially as the 19th century began changing to the 20th; who have truly and seriously been engaged in defending a 'rational faith'. [See sixth footnote below for a footnote here.] As in every field, not all these people have been especially proficient; and so the actual number of Christian 'apologists' who are worth time disputing (or paying attention to) remained small. Here, at the beginning of the 21st century, there are more of these people doing better work than ever; yet they are still drowned in Christian literature (and in Christian outreach programs) by primarily emotional appeals. And this disproportion can leave the 'taste' that 'real' religion (including ‘real’ Christianity) is not concerned with positively analytical thought.

For many people, then, a division of faith and reason remains a cornerstone of 'real religion'--particularly, of 'real' Christianity.

And here is the crushing irony: it is a lesson that sceptics have learned very well from believers.

What does the typical sceptic see and hear when, by happenstance, she is exposed to a typical Christian witness? She receives the impression that to accept Christianity she must reject her own ability to think; and/or that there can be no 'reason' to believe in God--she must have 'faith' instead.

She is given no reason to believe. Not surprisingly, she doesn't believe.

“Well, tough for her!” the believer may snort. “I don't know ontological or cosmological arguments either, and I believe. I ‘only’ have Faith; if I can do it, she can do it. Therefore, she should have done it!”

But such a reply (felt at bottom, I suspect, in many believers although not usually expressed so directly!) flies against a charitable attitude towards witnessing.

The sceptic does not have any of the advantages a believer already has (presuming the believer is in fact correct). The believer may be mistaking his privileges for humble submission on his part and sinful intransigence on the sceptic's. Is he quite sure he would accept Christianity given no reasons at all (plus what seem to be many reasons against it, which the sceptic may be exposed to and the believer often will not have been)? And if any particular reasons may help ground an accurate religious belief, then for all one can know beforehand other reasons may work just as well or better! The cases must be judged on an individual basis.

“Yes,” the believer may reply, “but as it happens, I am quite sure I would accept Christianity if I were like her and given no reasons at all; for I have been given no reasons and I accept it.”

In Proverbs chapter 14, verse 15, Solomon (the attributed author) states that "The simple believe everything while (in contrast) the prudent man considers his steps." That whole chapter and many of the surrounding ones equate the prudent man with the good, and both with the man who fears and obeys and loves God. So, if you really have no reasons to believe--if you are not "prudently considering your steps"--which of these two men described by Solomon do you represent if you nevertheless give assent to a 'belief'!?

“But this case is different!”

Why?

“Because now we are talking about a belief in God!”

What makes that a different case?

“Because... the rewards and perils and duties are the greatest?”

[Footnote: I am obviously dealing in this entry with a fairly common and unsophisticated version of the question of faith and reason. A few entries from now, I will be considering it from a far more technical standpoint.]

But this begs the question: how do you know there are rewards and perils and duties?

“The Bible says so.”

Why should we believe it?

“Because it is true.”

How can a sceptic know it is true?

“She cannot, she must just trust it.”

In other topics you would call this the irresponsible behavior of a credulous fool. [See seventh comment below for a footnote here.] You yourself would not agree to a belief on other topics in this manner; you would consider it an insult for other people to assume that you would or require that you should. She does not know these scriptures should be trusted, and you give her no means of help.

“God will help her.”

Then your witness is useless; God must come to her in some other way than through Christian witnesses.

“He can reach her through the Bible.”

The Bible says that God has chosen to work effectively through us as witnesses; you have just testified this is functionally impossible! Why should she trust Scripture when you yourself deny it speaks sensibly on such a basic issue?

“There is no reason why she should, she simply must.”

Then Scripture is no help to her either.

“God will help her.”

But apparently not through Scripture or Christian witnesses. You (not I!) would say this essentially denies the superior truth of the Christian religion. No wonder she is a sceptic! Who is God more likely to punish for this: her or you!?

As I have just illustrated, a denial of a link between faith and reason not only erects an unnecessary barrier between a sceptic and the truth (as I think Christianity to be), but also undermines any claim Christianity (or any other theism) may have to truth--even if we stick to a 'simple' faith.

But an even more pernicious problem rises in this situation; and although a believer of this sort may not recognize it, the sceptic very probably will...

[Next week: so, how exactly was that believer getting to his own belief after all?]

Autobiographical Atheism and Reason as the Enemy of Faith

I recently ran across this post at debunkingchristianity (DC) which credits Martin Luther with a quote attacking reason:

Reason is the greatest enemy that faith has; it never comes to the aid of spiritual things, but - more frequently than not - struggles against the divine Word, treating with contempt all that emanates from God.

The gist of the post is that a young Christian had not really questioned his faith as he was growing up, but that once he did he saw all sorts of problems with it and abandoned it. There are no detailed substantive arguments, though the author alludes to atrocities in the Old Testament as conflicting with the kind God of the New and the creationist/evolutionist controversy.

I am not sure how this atheist autobiography approach to de-evangelism pans out among most readers, but it usually strikes me as ineffective and a poor substitute for discussion over the ideas that may have lead to a loss of faith. Yet this tactic is a mainstay of DC as its contributors often seem to think that the rest of us just have not gone through these struggles or squarely faced our doubts or reason, evidence, etc. Though I do not necessarily deny their sincerity, I have good reason to believe that this is untrue in the case for many if not all of my fellow CADRE members and know it is not the case with me.

When I was younger, I went through an extended period of questioning, tackling issues similar to those raised by the DC post and plenty more. Yes, I truly entertained and explored the idea that my faith was wrong. We all have different areas of doubt that are more personally relevant than others. Of particular concern to me were questions over the transmission and accuracy of the Bible and the ultimate issue of whether God even existed. I studied philosophy, history, and science, and really struggled. For an extended period of time, I felt completely cut off from God. For a young charismatic Christian whose movement emphasized enjoying the presence of God, this was yet another reason for doubt. My whole life I could turn to God and feel his presence, his guidance, his love. Where had that gone? This was also a heavy blow.

For many reasons, including reason, I came out of this time period with an adjusted but stronger faith. My exploration did convince me that parts of what had been my faith were simply wrong and had to be abandoned. The earth was much, much older than many Christians I knew believed. The concept of rigid inerrancy I had held was at odds with my reason and history. But my exploration also convinced me that core parts of my faith were true. The resurrection of Jesus did happen. The best explanation for that resurrection was a God involved in the creation and design of the material world. Christianity made more sense out of history, science, philosophy, my experiences, and reason than any of its competitors.

Not coincidentally, I think, during this time I was maturing as a young man in other areas of my life. That time period was not the end of my inquiry or the adjusting of my faith, but no evidence or argument since has provoked the kind of doubt and questioning I had then. I remain a convinced Christian. And, as a charismatic, I enjoy the presence of God as well as other aspects of my faith that needed development and maturing that would likely not have come but for my period of deep doubt.

So am I at cross purposes with Luther? Perhaps. But then again perhaps not. Luther was open to correction not only from the proof of scripture, but from reason. Indeed, it was at least in part his trust in reason that led him to defy his received faith and radically challenge the institutions in which he had been raised and taught to submit. As he famously declared, "I cannot submit my faith either to the Pope or to the Councils, because it is clear as day they have frequently erred and contradicted each other. Unless therefore, I am convinced by the testimony of Scripture and plain reason ... I cannot and will not recant ..." Martin Luther, April 16, 1521.

But Luther – however significant – is not the only Christian thinker to have commented on reason. More than a thousand years before Luther, the Church Father Tertullian wrote:

Reason is a thing of God, inasmuch as there is nothing which God the Maker of all has not provided, disposed, ordained by reason—nothing which He has not willed should be handled and understood by reason.

Around the same time, another Church Father, Clement of Alexandria, wrote:

Do not think that we say that these things are only to be received by faith, but also that they are to be asserted by reason. For indeed it is not safe to commit these things to bare faith without reason, since assuredly truth cannot be without reason.

More recently, Augustine – himself a substantial influence on Luther – wrote:

Heaven forbid that God should hate in us that by which he made us superior to the animals! Heaven forbid that we should believe in such a way as not to accept or seek reasons, since we could not even believe if we did not possess rational souls.

And even more recently, Christian philosopher and historian William L. Craig thinks enough of reason to title one of his most popular apologetic works and his website, Reasonable Faith.

I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that Christianity does believe that human reason has been affected, even clouded, by the separation of God from Mankind. This is not a denial of reason, but a recognition that man’s ability to engage in it can be corrupted, mistaken, or misguided. Whether stated as a theological concept such as original sin or a postmodern theory concerned about the impossibility of objectivity, this cautionary approach to reason, I believe, strengthens mankind’s rational endeavors. The difference being that whereas the postmodernist may deny that there is a truth destination that can be arrived at, the Christian will admit its existence and work all the harder to reason and verify. As stated by Rodney Stark, “scholastic theologians placed far greater faith in reason than most philosophers are willing to do today.” The Victory of Reason, page 8.

I do not assume my journey has been normative for all Christians. I hope that most Christians have a solid faith that was not challenged as mine was. But for those who face the kinds of questions the DC poster did, or that I did, please know that the outcome can be an increase, rather than a loss, of faith. Also know that the notion that Christianity is the enemy of reason would surprise a lot of top Christian thinkers.

(The Tertullian quote is from On Repentence, Ch. 1, Clement from Recognitions of Clement, 2:69, and Augustine from Summa Theologica 14:28, working from quotes cited in Rodney Stark’s The Victory of Reason, page 7).

Update: Coming from a very different background and arriving at a somewhat different destination, my friend Meta recounts his journey through atheism into faith in Christ. I especially appreciate how his story illustrates the potential danger of prematurely giving up the intellectual search.

Dogma without Dogma--except not! (or, how Theology Today told me to drop their subscription)

Providing a bit of a break from the multi-page metaphysical discourses today. Consider this a practical application quiz.

I.) "Buddhism has the characteristics of what would be expected in a cosmic religion for the future: it transcends a personal God, avoids dogmas and theology; it covers both the natural & spiritual, and it is based on a religious sense aspiring from the experience of all things as a meaningful unity" - Albert Einstein

Question 1.) Identify the blatant topical contradiction in this statement. (5 pts)

Question 2.) Analyze the final 'characteristic' (beginning at "and it is based") in comparison/contrast to the notion of 'meaningful unity' developed in the progressing argument of my Eth&t3rdPers series. Hint: pay special attention to the contrast between the positions/conclusions of that argument and Einstein's first 'characteristic of Buddhism'. (70 pts)

(Disclaimer: this quiz does not necessarily involve affirming that Albert Einstein was competent to speak on characteristics of Buddhism, or any other religion/philosophy/metaphysic/worldview for that matter.)


II.) "Eschatology's integrative power weakened [for me], first of all, as I reflected on the deconstructionist warning that all universal cla