As many of you probably know, I'm in Paris right now on my way to Budapest for a workshop. I'll be here for the next could of days. I'm just running out the door for a day of exploring, but will hopefully be posting updates (hopefully including some pictures) over the next few days.
Religious skeptics like to point out that many of the stories we find in scripture have close parallels to various ancient myths. One of the comparisons that gets trotted out the most is between Jesus and the Egyptian god Horus. Horus, we are told, was born of a virgin, raised a man name Lazarus from the dead, was the son of god, and himself rose from the dead.
The Jesus-ripped-off-Horus urban legend (academic legend?) has been thoroughly debunked (see this online article for example). It never ceases to amaze me how gullible some "enlightened" skeptics are when it comes to such comparisons. Why on earth would a group of pious, religious Jews so effortlessly assimilate an Egyptian god into their theology well after Egypt and Egyptian culture had ceased to be the dominant force in the ancient world?
But set all of this aside for the moment. Suppose that there are, in fact, several close similarities between the gospels and ancient myths from a wide range of cultures. Does this pose a problem for Christian faith?
Well, that depends. In particular, it depends on how you expect God to act if he were to try to make contact with human beings.
A major assumption underlying the skeptic's argument is that if God were to enter human history, he would behave in a way that was fundamentally different from the gods we find in human myths. God, in all his grandeur, would simply not stoop to level of our human imaginations.
But why believe that?
One of C.S. Lewis' most interesting ideas is his idea of a "true myth." His thought is that as humans, we are built to see the world in certain ways and to tell certain kinds of stories about the world and about the gods.
Instead of doing something that would have been completely incomprehensible to us, God in all his power becomes "incarnate" in our stories. The story that God writes for himself has similarities with the stories we are built to tell about the gods precisely because he loves us and wants us to understand who he is and what he is doing.
Imagine a small child who loves telling stories about Superman. One day his dad, a blanket on his back and rushes into his son's room. He picks him up, and holds him as the child "flies" through the air. They run into the back yard and "save the world" together--just in time for milk and cookies.
The father in our example might be a very successful corporate executive or trial lawyer. But if he loves his son, the last thing we will do is organize a business meeting with his kindergartner. Playing superhero with his son is much more effective.
Deep down, I think that the skeptic believe that God would not take on human myth because God takes us as seriously as we take ourselves. God would just Give Us the Truth--he wouldn't play around with our silly human stories and human imaginations.
But we are all more like children than we like to admit. And so it is no surprise that God shows his love for us, in part, my loving our imaginations and our stories. God shows his love, like any good father, by playing with us.
So as we've seen, an apparently strong challenge to Christian faith turned out to be based on some pretty dubious theological assumptions. If God takes on our humanity in Jesus, why would we be surprised that he also takes on some aspects of our human myths as well?
Who is saved and how are they saved? What needs to be true in order for a certain person to be saved? These are the central questions that need by answered by any soteriology--that is, questions that need to be answered by a doctrine of salvation.
One of the most significant differences between soteriological systems is how they deal with the salvation of children. One common position is that children who have not reached the "age of accountability'' are not capable of doing either right or wrong--they simply don't have the cognitive machinery necessary for either immoral or moral action. As such, they have no sin and there is nothing that they need to be saved from.
Another similar position is that while young children are sinful and need to be saved, they are incapable of making the decision to accepting God's gift of forgiveness. As such, they are exempt from the requirement of accepting this gift and are saved automatically.
The problem is that on both of these views, killing babies turns out to be an enormously effective way of saving souls. I refer to this as the Kill All the Babies Problem. If Billy dies before the age of accountability, then he is guaranteed to spend eternity in heaven. However, if Billy survives to the age of accountability, then there is a reasonable chance that he will fail to accept God's gift of forgiveness and will consequently spend eternity in hell experiencing suffering of the worst kind. Since spending an eternity in hell is far worse than missing out on a few decades of earthly existence, it is a good thing if Billy dies in childhood before he reaches the age of accountability.
One odd implication is that abortion--a practice opposed by most conservative Christians--turns out to be an incredibly effective way of saving souls. Suppose that a woman who is a devout atheist has an abortion. If she would have given birth to the child, he very likely would have grown past the age of accountability and failed to accept God's gift of forgiveness. But since the child was aborted before he reached the age of accountability, he is safe from the fires of hell and will spend eternity in heaven. Thus, legalized abortion has had the wonderful effect of saving millions of people who otherwise would not have been saved.
Soteriological systems in which infant baptism is a means of saving children are not in a much better position than the other views we have looked at. Suppose that infant baptism does in fact guarantee that Billy will spend eternity in heaven unless he later decides to reject his faith. Then it turns out to be a really good thing if Billy dies after his baptism but before he is old enough to reject his faith. After all, if Billy had grown up, he might have decided to reject his baptism and the salvation that comes with it. And that would have led to spending an eternity in hell.
What is the best way to deal with the Kill All the Babies Problem?
Two systems that clearly avoid the problem are universalism and traditional Calvinism. Suppose that some form of Christian universalism is true. Then there is no danger that child who grows up will do something to endanger her salvation. She may at some point reject her faith, but God will eventually find a way to bring her back to faith (if not in this life, then the next).
Similarly, suppose that traditional Calvinism is true. Then a child will be saved regardless of what she does when she grows up. If she is elect, then nothing she will do in the future will endanger her salvation. And if she is not elect, then nothing she will do in the future will bring about her salvation.
The moral of the story: human intuitions are more than a bit unreliable when it comes to thinking about probability.
For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. -- Ephesians 1
This morning, I read through Pastor Conner's sermon for the day on predestination (he emails them to me every week). Reading through it, I was struck by how much what we say about divine election depends on whether God elects de re or God elects de dicto.
Suppose that I decide to vote for John McCain in November. There are two kinds of decisions I could make.
Consider the following, rather strange set of sentences:
(P): God knows Q is true.
(Q): P is false.
Danny--
Thanks for your post. It reminded me of the metaphorical language in Scripture about being in bondage to sin, being a slave to sin. But I know, in my own life, that the worst part about sin is that I am to blame for those things I do which wound other people.
If I have cancer, I really didn't *do* cancer to myself. Perhaps in certain cases, say in excessive tobacco use, I acted in ways that led to my getting cancer. But even then it's something I've done to myself. But imagine a scenario in which I have cancer *and* I have the ability to give other people cancer. And I knowingly and willfully give my friends cancer. (Obviously, cancer isn't contagious... anyway, you get the idea.)
The worst thing about sin is the way that I personally, willfully wish to hurt other people--either out of envy, jealousy, pride/shame. Perhaps I am infected with some disease that makes me do this but the miserableness is that in my unguarded moments, want other people to suffer (only a little bit, because I'm a nice guy, right?). Speaking personally, the hardest thing to bear, even as someone forgiven, is the knowledge that other people whom I have known have to live their whole lives carrying the consequences of my sinful actions.
I think you're right in saying that the only solution, the only cure is to set one's mind/heart/soul/body toward Christ. Moralism's problem is attempting to use the will (which is rotten) to save the will. The will can't save the will, just as culture can't save culture, politics can't save politics. We must be acted upon by an outside force. ;)
Throughout history people, and religions, have often asked the question of how good one must be to escape eternal judgment. Even in Christianity people have often asked (wrongly) the question of how many good works one must do to receive eternal life. The conception that such questions present is that moral goodness is like a balancing scale. At the end of our lives what we need to try to achieve is the accomplishment of more good works than bad. In my perspective, however, such questions and perspectives do not represent a biblical worldview of sin.
Suppose that sin is not so much a list of bad works or bad actions that one should not commit. Suppose, in fact, that sin has nothing very little to do with lists of dos and don’ts. Instead of viewing sin as something that can be weighed on the scales of morality let us view sin as an innate condition that is more like a disease. If such is the case then what is needed is not to have more good works to negate the effects of sin but rather a cure for the sinners condition. Not only would such a perspective open the door for fascinating philosophical discussions, but it also seems to have biblical basis.
In Mathew 9:12 Jesus says, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.” The idea that Jesus is advancing here is that sin is disease. Indeed, since we are all sinners (Romans 3:23) we have all contracted the disease (or were born with it depending on your view of original sin). Under such a perspective Jesus has come, like a doctor, to heal us of our disease. This is not so revolutionary but what this could mean is.
Suppose that sin is a disease and the only cure is God’s forgiveness. This means that no amount of good works would be able to cover or remove our sin but rather the only cure is from God. The question that then arises is “who is this God.” This is not so much a question of which religion to choose as it is a question of what is the nature of God. In The Parable of the Talents (Mathew 25:14-30) one servant is cast out into punishment because, knowing his master to be a “hard man”, he buried his masters money instead of investing it or at least depositing it in the bank. This man’s problem was not knowing which man his master was. His problem was identifying who his master was. His heart believed that being protective of his master’s money was the right thing to do but, despite good intentions, the man was still punished. As Christians our goal is to draw as close to God as possible and to identify his true nature. This is what God desires and, again, is biblically supported.
Deuteronomy 6 the Israelites are told, “Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts.” (5,6) Note that God did not tell them to remember to always worship on Saturday, or not to swear, but instead told them to love Him with all that they had. Jesus emphasizes this later on when he says in Mathew 22, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment.”(v 37,38). The concern is not what we do. If we Love God as He truly is, having correctly identified his nature, morality will naturally follow.
Jesus places the utmost importance in identifying who He is. The Gospel of John is particularly filled with “I am” type statements. He refers to Himself as the bread of life (John 6), the light of the world (John 8), the door of the sheep (John 10), the good shepherd (John 10), the resurrection and the life (John 11), the way, the truth, and the life (John 14), and the true vine (John 15).
Sin being viewed as a disease instead of something to be balanced on a morality scale opens many doors. One of these doors is the possibility that God is far more concerned about finding his heart than trying to live a good, moral life. The reason for this is that when we find God’s heart and truly love Him we will naturally act morally. Instead of getting caught up in legalism perhaps we should just seek after God trusting that the rest will follow.
In many times and places, vengeance has been considered a moral requirement. If someone killed your brother, you were morally obligated to kill either that person or some other member of his family.
