He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” (Luke 18:9-14)

One of my colleagues, John Currid, preached a convicting message from this parable at RTS-Charlotte on Tuesday. (I hope the audio will eventually become available at RTS on iTunes U.) Quoting from Spurgeon and McCheyne, among others, he reminded us that pride, fueled by human accolades, is often a besetting sin for ministers of the gospel.

It brought to mind (by way of contrast) a few times I’ve heard this parable expounded in such a way as to undermine its very point. In those renderings, the Pharisee stands for “them” (those self-righteous religious folk, trusting in their own good works) and the tax collector stands for “us” (good evangelical Protestants who trust in Christ alone for justification). By the end of the message one could barely resist praying, “God, I thank you that I am not like that Pharisee!”

It’s quite possible to preach the the doctrine of justification by faith alone in such a way as to practically contradict it. Ironically, Reformed churches may be most vulnerable to this error, simply because they (rightly) place such emphasis on that doctrine “by which the church stands or falls” (as Luther famously put it). We fall into the trap of taking pride in our celebration of a doctrine that repudiates all pride!

But one implication of the doctrine of justification by faith alone, which perhaps needs to be emphasized in Reformed settings, is that we aren’t justified by the doctrine itself. We aren’t justified by faith in the doctrine of justification by faith alone! We’re justified by faith in Christ alone. That is the precious, glorious truth of the doctrine. We don’t put our trust in any good works, including our good doctrinal works. Recognizing our utter spiritual bankruptcy, we look wholly outside ourselves to the perfect sufficient atoning work of Jesus Christ.

Is this theological nit-picking? No, I think it makes all the difference in the world. It’s the difference between anti-Phariseeism and inverted Phariseeism.

Happy Reformation Day!

A commenter (Keith) on my earlier post on the historicity of Adam poses a good question:

Can you comment on the broader theological/hermeneutical/epistemological issues here?

Let’s assume the following for the sake of discussion: (a) there are strong textual (referring to the whole Bible) reasons in favor of a historical Adam; (b) the textual evidence isn’t a “slam dunk” so it is possible that the text doesn’t necessitate a historical Adam; (c) there is a strong scientific consesus that the scientific evidence for evolution is a slam dunk; and (d) somehow evolution strongly undermines belief in a historical Adam. I leave (d) fuzzy because there are probably a number of ways one might think a belief in evolution would undermine belief in a historical Adam. (I can think of at least a couple quickly, but spelling it out isn’t necessary for the question I am asking.)

What should one do in this epistemic situation? The textual evidence is much stronger for a historical Adam (assuming the above assumptions) but it isn’t a slam dunk. Yet the scientific evidence for evolution, which per the illustration undermines belief in a historical Adam, is a slam dunk. Does one count all evidence of the epistemic situation equally or does one first resolve the interpretive issue based on textual reasons and then hold to a historical Adam over against the undermining scientific slam dunk?

I am asking, because I suspect that which side one takes often correlates with how one would resolve the epistemic situation in my illustration.

First, some preliminary comments. Speaking for myself (which I often do) I’m far from persuaded that the scientific evidence for evolution is a slam dunk, and whether or not there really is a scientific consensus that the evidence is a slam dunk is rather hard to determine, given the extent to which politics and metaphysics muddy the water (on both sides of the debate). Of course, part of the problem here is how one defines “evolution”. If you define it weakly as physiological changes over time due to natural selection, then not even Ken Ham would deny that the evidence for evolution is a slam dunk. On the other hand, if you define it strongly as universal common ancestry from a single-celled organism, with the present diversity and complexity of life accounted for by purely natural processes (such as natural selection and genetic mutation, i.e., the standard neo-Darwinian account), then that’s quite another matter.

Based on the question posed, it’s fair to assume Keith has in mind something close to the latter. As I say, I’m unimpressed by the arguments typically offered for evolution understood in that stronger sense, although it’s not my purpose here to enter into that issue in any detail. All I’ll mention at this point is that how one evaluates the evidence depends in large measure on how one understands “scientific evidence” in general and what hypotheses one is prepared to entertain. In particular, whether or not one is committed to methodological naturalism will have a significant bearing on the issue. If you’re not prepared to entertain non-natural causes or explanations in principle, the empirical case for evolution will look more compelling to you than if you don’t.

The upshot is that I’m about to comment on an epistemic scenario that, from my perspective, is very hypothetical. It’s as though I were being asked what conclusions a man should draw, based on his total evidence, if he were to kiss his wife goodbye at his home in Houston, fly direct by private jet to Anchorage, only to find her waiting for him there in the arrivals lounge. It’s not an epistemic scenario I can relate to very easily!

Nevertheless, I appreciate that some Christians (included some respected friends) find themselves in a different epistemic situation and such questions are more pertinent to them. So I’ll do my best to give an answer, granting the assumptions stated in the question for argument’s sake. I’ll also be taking for granted that the Bible is divinely inspired and inerrant (i.e., that it affirms no falsehoods when rightly interpreted) since that’s also one of the parameters of the question.

1. The specific scenario Keith describes can be generalized as follows. I find myself presented with strong grounds for believing P, Q, and ~(P & Q). It seems clear to me that Scripture teaches P. I also learn that there is a “strong scientific consensus” that there is compelling scientific evidence for Q. But on reflection, it appears that P and Q are logically incompatible (or, at least, it’s highly unlikely that they’re both true).

Faced with this scenario, I have three basic options if I want to preserve consistency in my beliefs:

Option 1: Reject P

Option 2: Reject Q

Option 3: Reject ~(P & Q)

(Strictly speaking, there are further options, e.g., reject both P and Q, but the three above are the least radical.)

2. Consider the first option. If I reject P, it doesn’t follow that I must abandon biblical inerrancy. Rather than concluding that the Bible mistakenly teaches P, I could conclude that the Bible doesn’t teach P after all. In other words, I could conclude that my present interpretation of Scripture, however compelling, is mistaken.

Although this preserves inerrancy, it comes at a price. It may force me to accept a very unnatural reading of Scripture, one that flies in the face of grammatical-historical principles of interpretation. It may also thereby raise doubts about the clarity of Scripture — particularly so if the revised reading has significant theological implications that strike at core Christian doctrines. A “Sophie’s Choice” between denying the inerrancy of Scripture and denying the clarity of Scripture isn’t a pleasant prospect, especially if I have strong rational grounds for both doctrines.

3. Given the difficulties presented by rejecting P (on the assumption that the exegetical basis for P is very strong) it makes sense to ask what influence (if any) scientific evidences should have on our interpretation of Scripture. I believe that all truth is God’s truth, that God reveals truths in both general (natural) revelation and special revelation, and that there can be no final contradiction between general revelation and special revelation. Any apparent conflict must be merely apparent, and we should look for ways to resolve the apparent conflict that honor both forms of revelation.

It ought to be uncontroversial that our interpretation of Scripture is influenced in large measure by extra-biblical knowledge: linguistic knowledge, historical knowledge, cultural knowledge, etc. Moreover, I think there are relatively uncontroversial cases where our reading of the Bible can be (and has been) revised by scientific knowledge. For example, in Mark 4:31 Jesus says that the mustard seed is “the smallest of all seeds on earth”. Scientists tell us that there are, as a matter of fact, smaller seeds than the mustard seed. Such being the case, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to adjust our interpretation of Jesus’ words accordingly (e.g., Jesus had in mind those seeds planted by people for crops in first-century Palestine, a contextual qualification that was probably taken for granted by his audience).

So there doesn’t seem to be anything objectionable in principle about scientific knowledge informing our interpretations of Scripture. The problem arises, however, when scientific knowledge is given “veto power” over our best historical-grammatical interpretations of Scripture, forcing us to accept very contrived readings of the text.

4. I agree with Cornelius Van Til that natural revelation, since it is no less divine revelation than special revelation, has the attributes of necessity, sufficiency, authority, and clarity. (See, e.g., his essay ‘Nature and Scripture’.) But I also agree with Van Til that special revelation enjoys priority over natural revelation in the sense that whenever our best interpretations of them conflict, our interpretation of natural revelation should “give way” to our interpretation of special revelation. In other words, science must submit to Scripture, rather than the reverse.

One reason for this, as Calvin argued, is that special revelation (i.e., the Bible) was given to us to correct our sinful distortions of natural revelation. Scripture gives us the “spectacles” we need to read nature aright, not the reverse. (See Calvin’s Institutes, 1.6.1 & 1.14.1.) A further reason, in my view, is the very high view of Scripture reflected in Jesus’ use of the Old Testament. As a follower of Christ, I don’t want to hold any lower a view of Scripture than he did. So if I’m ever faced with a choice between what Scripture appears to tell me and what science appears to tell me, I will always err on the side of Scripture in the absence of any more satisfying resolution.

5. Of course, what we’d really like to determine here is just how strong the exegetical evidence for P has to be for me to be rationally justified in rejecting Q. I don’t see that there’s any easy way to answer that question. There’s certainly no straightforward formula for us to apply. But then, the same is true in most other areas of life (e.g., evaluating political issues). Each of us has to think through the issues as best we can, try to get as objective a view of the overall evidence as we can, and make our own best judgment with a clear conscience. As I’ve explained, when push comes to shove, my overall theology of revelation means that I consider it safest to side with Scripture in the case of any apparent conflict with contemporary science — all the more so when the historic testimony of the church supports that judgment.

6. Rejecting mainstream scientific opinion is never a comfortable move, even when rationally and morally justified, so it’s worth considering how much stock to put in scientific consensus. (According to the scenario we’re considering here, it’s the scientific consensus on the empirical evidence, rather than a personal evaluation of that evidence, that serves as the grounds for believing Q.) In general, I respect scientific consensus and normally have no reason to doubt it on matters that don’t have significant religious, ethical, or political implications. But when the scientific consensus is tied up with other matters in which people have significant vested interests, I’m more skeptical.

Take global warming, for example. I’m happy to grant there’s good evidence for global warming in the sense that the average temperature of the planet has steadily increased over the last hundred years or so. But we’re routinely told by the media that all reputable scientists agree not only that global warming has occurred, but also that (i) this is largely due to carbon dioxide emissions, (ii) human economic activity is one of the main contributors to these emissions, (iii) it will be very, very bad for our planet if this continues, and (iv) if we take certain drastic actions (e.g., those demanded by the Kyoto Protocol) then we can avert disaster, despite the considerable economic costs involved.

These far more ambitious claims are based in large part on computer models. The models are very sophisticated, no doubt, but anyone who has worked with computer models (as I have) knows that such models are notoriously dependent on extrapolations, simplifications, and assumptions that often owe more to intuitions or guesswork than hard empirical data. I have good reason to conclude, therefore, that the media-reported scientific consensus on global warming is not a reliable guide to the actual facts of the matter. The claims made go far beyond the empirical evidence and don’t warrant the degree of certainty attributed to them. Furthermore, it isn’t hard to see that the “global warming consensus” is driven as much by political and economic factors as by dispassionate evaluations of the empirical evidence. Environmentalism is the political fashion of the day. Governments are eager to throw money at the issues, and scientists are eager to catch it; they’re only human, after all. (See this recent article for other reasons to doubt the “scientific consensus”.)

7. All this to say that it’s not unreasonable to question the epistemic force of scientific consensus, especially in cases where the claims made have significant religious, ethical, or political implications. And there are further reasons not to give it too much weight. For one thing, most scientists are specialists. They have no more expertise on most scientific issues (and may in fact have less) than a well-read non-scientist. (I’m speaking here of professional scientists.) This holds even for biologists when it comes to the evidential basis for neo-Darwinism, if my personal experience of biologists is anything to go by. They’re exposed to the standard textbook case for evolution in their undergraduate studies, alongside all the other core topics in biology; most have no reason to question it (and plenty of reason not to) and so it persists unchallenged as a background assumption without much further evaluation. Then one day they’re invited to answer a poll question on whether or not the scientific evidence for evolution is compelling and — surprise, surprise — they reply in the affirmative.

8. Another consideration: the scientific community is no more immune to peer-pressure than any other community. In fact, scientific peer-pressure may be one of the strongest forms. Labels like “unscientific” and “pseudo-scientific” carry the worse kind of stigma. And the pressure to conform to Darwinian orthodoxy is considerable. It’s no secret that scientists in the West who express doubts about Darwinism face ridicule, ostracism, and — in the most extreme cases — loss of livelihood. Expelled wasn’t an exposé for those who had already been following the debate over Intelligent Design. So here we find one more reason not to put too much stock in scientific consensus, especially when it comes to evolutionary theory. There’s clearly more going on than a sober evaluation of empirical evidence.

9. I don’t buy into Thomas Kuhn’s scientific anti-realism, but I think his account of the role paradigms play in the scientific community has much to be said for it. It seems to me that neo-Darwinism is almost a paradigm example (so to speak) of a scientific paradigm. It’s taken for granted by nearly all scientists. It largely predetermines how the evidence should be interpreted (e.g., the fossil record), what theories are deemed viable and ’scientific’, what assumptions can be made, what the ‘problems’ are that need to be solved, what methods can be used to solve them, and what research programs are worthy of time and funding. What’s more, it’s suspiciously resistant to empirical disconfirmation, despite the growing number of ‘anomalies’. If neo-Darwinism currently functions much like a Kuhnian paradigm, the scientific consensus in its favor may be worth little more than the consensus in favor of phlogiston theory 300 years ago or Newtonian physics 200 years ago.

10. I’ve made some observations about scientific consensus in general, but also raised some specific questions about the consensus in favor of evolutionary theory. Here’s one final observation on the latter. It’s worth noting that the “overwhelming evidence” cited today in support of evolution is not the same “overwhelming evidence” that was cited 50 years ago. Back then, the emphasis was on evidences such as Darwin’s finches, peppered moths, homology, embryonic recapitulation, and so forth. It’s now widely (if reluctantly) conceded that these don’t offer the evidential support they were once thought to. So now the emphasis has shifted to evidence from biogeography, genetics, and molecular biology. What this suggests is that the support for the theory of evolution among scientists was never based wholly — or even primarily — on “slam dunk” empirical evidences. Would we be surprised to find, 50 years from now, that the scientific case for evolution has been relocated to yet other evidential avenues?

11. So far, I’ve considered the first two of our three options: rejecting P and rejecting Q. But what about the third option? If we’re convinced that our evidential grounds for P and Q are strong, the most rational solution might well be to reject ~(P & Q) — that is, to conclude that the apparent conflict between P and Q is merely apparent. We may not be able to explain just how they’re to be reconciled, but if both P and Q are strongly warranted, and aren’t clearly and explicitly contradictory, the mere fact that we cannot (yet) reconcile them need not serve as a defeater for their conjunction. (Some readers may be aware that I discuss closely-related issues in my book on paradoxical Christian doctrines.)

Let’s consider the case of evolutionary theory in this regard. Suppose that some Christian — call him Sam — is convinced that Scripture commits him to the historicity of Adam, but also that the evolutionary account of human origins is substantially correct. (Again, for the record, this is not my position; I’m only considering it for argument’s sake.) In fact, let’s amplify the problem by supposing that Sam believes in evolution not merely on the basis of scientific consensus, but on the basis of a thorough personal evaluation of the empirical evidence, so that the doubts I raised above (about scientific consensuses) are less relevant. Can he continue to rationally believe both P and Q?

On the face of it, it’s hard to see why not. As far as I can tell, the theory of evolution doesn’t entail the non-historicity of Adam. And there are a good number of Christian scholars who accept some version of theistic evolution whilst also maintaining that Adam was a real historical person and the head (in some relevant sense) of the human race. Apparently they don’t see any logical incompatibility between the two views.

The commenter (Keith) who originally posed the question said he could imagine at least a couple of ways in which “a belief in evolution would undermine belief in a historical Adam.” I can too, but it’s dubious whether any of these considerations would involve an outright contradiction between the two beliefs. I’m aware that some have raised more direct scientific arguments against the existence of an original human pair (based on backwards extrapolations of the current human gene pool). However, these aren’t based on evolutionary theory alone but rather evolutionary theory supplemented with other arguments. And those supplementary arguments are even more inferential, speculative, and tenuous. In any case, even if those arguments were sound, it wouldn’t follow that the person called Adam in the Bible never existed (even if they imply other things about the human race that are difficult to reconcile with what the Bible says about Adam).

12. Still, one might argue that while evolutionary theory isn’t logically incompatible with the historicity of Adam, it at least renders it highly unlikely. But even if we grant this, it doesn’t follow for a moment that Sam couldn’t rationally believe both.

Let E stand for the proposition that the theory of evolution is substantially true, H for the proposition that Adam was a real historical individual, and S for the proposition that the most natural reading of Scripture strongly supports the historicity of Adam (as I argued earlier). Even if P(H|E) is very low (i.e., the probability that H is true given that E is true) it doesn’t follow that P(H|E&S) is very low. Indeed, P(H|E&S) may turn out to be very high.

Consider this analogy. The probability of getting a perfect bridge hand in a single deal is extremely low. (I’m told it’s about one in 160 billion.) But suppose I’m fortunate enough to be dealt that hand; I can see the cards (all 13 spades) in front of me. Should I refuse to believe that I’ve actually been dealt that hand because I know that its prior probability is incredibly low? Of course not! I have other epistemic grounds for my belief, namely, my direct observations. By the same principle, Sam could have a warranted belief in H even if he also believes that P(H|E) is very low. The divine testimony of Scripture is sufficient to warrant his belief in H despite the considerations to the contrary.

Indeed, the same goes for other Christian beliefs. From a purely scientific point of view, the probability that the Red Sea parted when Moses raised his staff is extremely low; yet I know that it happened. From a purely scientific point of view, the probability of an axe head floating is also extremely low; yet I know that it happened. From a purely scientific point of view, the probability of a crucified man coming back to life three days later is extremely low; yet I know that it happened. In each case, the scientific evidence is only one variable in the epistemic equation — and it’s far from decisive.

13. So this is where the above considerations lead me. Given (i) a conservative evangelical view of biblical inspiration, (ii) a recognition of the non-evidential factors that contribute to scientific consensuses, and (iii) the fallible and probabilistic nature of large-scale scientific theories (especially ones that concern past unrepeatable events), I don’t believe a strong consensus that there is “slam dunk” evidence for such-and-such a scientific theory (e.g.,  neo-Darwinian evolution) could give a Christian sufficient reason to adopt an unnatural, contrived, and historically novel reading of Scripture.

14. Readers interested to know what far brighter minds that mine think about these and related issues should check out these exchanges between Alvin Plantinga, Howard Van Till, Pattle Pun, Ernan McMullin, and William Hasker. (Try to overlook the atrocious use of Comic Sans font on the main page.) I think Plantinga has the better of the argument, but that’s probably because out of all the participants his theological and epistemological outlook is closest to my own.

Heard today, from a testimonial in a TV commercial for a law firm:

They were more than lawyers. They were human beings.

My earlier post on the historicity of Adam has received some critical discussion on another blog. I appreciate the thoughtful push-back from Nick and others, not least because this is one of those debates that can quickly degenerate into anathematizing partisanship. I tried to address the matter objectively, without personalizing the issue, and I hope we can maintain that level of respectful debate. Anyway, here are a few further remarks by way of response.

1. I didn’t claim (or even insinuate) that if you deny inerrancy then you’re not an evangelical or (worse still) that you’re not a Christian, not saved, etc. I didn’t make those claims because I don’t believe them, and I would argue against them.

One commenter (on yet another blog) remarked that I “appear to be one of the many other evangelicals who have concluded that if you disagree with him as to the genre of Genesis 1-4, then you are just a liberal heretic who has thrown aside the authority of Scripture.” This is simply untrue. I implied nothing of the sort. Ironically, the comment exemplifies the sort of hasty and uncharitable generalization that it purports to denounce.

2. I do believe, however, that the doctrine of inerrancy is important and worth defending. (Some of the reasons for that conviction I set out in my evaluation of Andrew McGowan’s arguments against inerrancy.) Furthermore, I believe that the label ‘evangelical’ is applied rather more loosely now than it was, say, 50 years ago. That’s a historical-linguistic thesis which I’m not inclined to defend right now. But the important issue here isn’t who gets to call themselves ‘evangelical’ (or any other label). The important issues are whether inerrancy is true and whether a commitment to inerrancy (along with other important doctrines) requires us to affirm that Adam was a real historical individual.

3. My earlier post was relatively modest in its goal. I deliberately stated that I was offering prima facie reasons for thinking that the Bible affirms the historicity of Adam as an individual. I think I succeeded in my goal, modest as it was. If I’m right, the important implications are these: (1) the burden of proof is surely on the one who denies that the divine inspiration of Scripture commits one to the historicity of Adam; and (2) justifying that denial requires one to deal with more than just the first few chapters of Genesis.

4. Nick Norelli raises the following criticism:

If the mention of Adam throughout the Bible is there to make a theological point then his real existence is quite beside the point.  The prima facie case to be made is not that Adam was a real historical individual, but that some of the writers of the Bible believed that he was.  The fact of the matter is that the Bible’s writers probably did believe that Adam was a historical individual, but that doesn’t of necessity make them correct.  They believed all manner of things that we don’t presently.

In other words, Nick thinks the considerations I raise prove at most that the biblical authors believed that Adam was a real historical individual, not that he actually was such an individual. He rightly observes that a high view of Scripture doesn’t require us to believe everything the authors of Scripture believed.

I think this response won’t do the work Nick thinks it does, for the following reasons:

(a) This isn’t an incidental, tangential belief on the part of the biblical writers, like the belief that (say) the sun orbits the earth; it’s an issue that has profound theological implications for human nature, for the origin of sin, for the role of Christ in salvation, and for family ethics, to name a few areas of relevance. If they were mistaken at this point, we have to wonder what else of theological significance they were mistaken about.

(b) Many of the points I mentioned imply rather more than that the writer personally believed in the historicity of Adam. In a number of cases, the historicity of Adam functions as a crucial presupposition of their claim or argument. In other words, if there was in fact no such individual then their claim turns out to be untrue or their argument turns out to be unsound. I think this is the case for points 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and possibly 4 and 6 as well.

(c) I accept that the biblical writers often — even always — express matters in culturally conditioned ways. I’m not a naive biblical literalist or one who denies the humanity of Scripture. However, I am concerned that the sort of cultural-accommodation hermeneutic required to justify a denial of (or even agnosticism about) the historicity of Adam can be applied equally effectively to justify a denial of most any other evangelical Christian doctrine or ethical standard: original sin, penal substitutionary atonement, forensic justification, heterosexuality as normative, the sanctity of life in the womb, and so on.

In other words, that sort of cultural-accommodation hermeneutic ultimately threatens the clarity and authority of Scripture and undermines in principle the ability of Scripture to challenge our culture today.

5. I think we need to see at least two things from those who want to take this route (regarding the historicity of Adam). First, they need to persuade evangelicals that the hermeneutic they advocate doesn’t turn the Bible into a “wax nose” such that (to mix metaphors) it can be washed away like a sandcastle by any cultural tide. Second, they need to show how Paul’s arguments in Romans 5, 1 Corinthians 15, and 1 Timothy 2 can be plausibly understood as cogent even if Adam and Eve never actually existed. (The same goes for Jesus’ argument in Matthew 19:3-9.) For example, how exactly does Paul’s argument in Romans 5 work if it mixes non-historical events (one sinful act that brought death) with historical events (one righteous act that brought life)? It’s not enough to explain away Genesis 1-4.

6. Finally, one commenter on Nick’s blog suggested that the solution is simple: abandon the doctrine of inerrancy. This is refreshingly candid. But even for those who take this step, I doubt it removes all the problems. It seems to me, on the basis of the considerations I gave, that denying the historicity of Adam has implications not only for the doctrine of inerrancy but also for numerous other Christian teachings. Time will tell whether one can reasonably sustain a high (but non-inerrantist) view of Scripture after dispensing with Adam.

I hope these comments help to clarify the purpose of my earlier post and to advance the discussion a little further.

Addendum: One commenter elsewhere in the blogosphere has chided me for using a “typical ’slippery slope’ argument”. I’m not sure how he got that idea, unless it came from a misinterpretation of the concluding sentence of my earlier post. Anyway, I’m certainly not arguing, “If you throw out Adam you might as well throw out everything else!” or anything along those lines. It’s not a slippery-slope argument at all. Rather, my argument is that denying the historicity of Adam seems to commit you to at least some of the following: (i) very unnatural readings of several biblical passages; (ii) the conclusion that some biblical authors (and perhaps Jesus too) make claims that aren’t true or arguments that aren’t cogent; (iii) a hermeneutic that would undermine the clarity and authority of Scripture; (iv) a hermeneutic that would make it very difficult, if not impossible, to defend many other important biblical doctrines or ethical norms to which evangelicals are committed.

In a video clip that will no doubt stir up some discussion in the evangelical blogosphere, Professor Tremper Longman III has expressed doubts about whether the opening chapters of Genesis commit one to believing that Adam was a real historical individual (in the sense that Jesus, say, was a real historical individual). I’m not going to comment here on Longman’s particular views or his reasons for holding them, but merely offer twelve prima facie reasons why an evangelical view of the Bible commits one to the existence of Adam has a real historical individual.

1. On the face of it, the basic literary genre of Genesis 1-4 is that of historical narrative (as opposed to, e.g., poetry, legal code, or apocalypse). This isn’t to say that these chapters can contain no figurative language; many conservative OT scholars would readily grant that they do. But it does imply that these chapters (like the rest of Genesis) are intended by the author to report important events within historical space-time. As such, there should be a strong presumption that the Adam of chapters 1-4 is no less a real historic figure than, say, the Abraham of chapters 12-25.

2. The first five verses of Genesis 5 not only describe events in Adam’s life, they attaches specific numerical dates to those events. This is passing strange if the author didn’t consider Adam to be a real historical figure. (This point applies equally to the human author and to the divine author!) For example, we’re told that Adam lived 930 years. Why would one make what seems to be precise factual statement about the lifespan of a certain individual if the individual in question never actually lived? (Cf. Gen. 25:17; 50:26; Num. 33:39; Deut. 34:7; Josh. 24:29; etc.)

3. The author of Genesis presents the book as a seamless historical account. There is no obvious shift from non-historical narrative to historical narrative. Rather, we’re presented with a series of narrative sections, each introduced with some variant of the formula, “These are the generations of . . .” (Gen. 2:4; 5:1; 6:9; 10:1; 11:10; 11:27; 25:12; 25:19; 36:1, 9; 37:2). The implication is that Adam and Eve were no less historical figures than Noah, Shem, Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac, Esau, and Jacob.

4. Adam is named in the genealogy in 1 Chronicles 1. The presumption is that Adam is just as historical an individual as the other people who feature in the genealogy. It’s one thing to grant (as many conservative OT scholars would) that there are gaps in the OT genealogies; the Hebrew words for ‘father’ and ’son’ certainly allow for that. It’s quite another thing to suggest that this genealogy slides imperceptibly from the non-historical to the historical.

5. The interpretation of Hosea 6:7 is disputed, but a good case can be offered that taking ‘Adam’ as a reference to the first human being, rather than as a place-name or as ‘mankind’, makes best sense in the context. (The notes in the ESV Study Bible nicely summarize the rationale for this reading.) It would be foolish to rest too much on this verse; but on the other hand, it shouldn’t be overlooked. If this is indeed the correct reading, it lends some further support to the prima facie case for a historical Adam.

6. The genealogy of Jesus Christ given in Luke 3:23-38 traces all the way back to Adam. While it’s likely that the genealogy isn’t complete (and isn’t intended to be), it’s hard to believe Luke would have accepted the idea that his list is a mixture of the historical and the non-historical. If Adam were not a historical individual, wouldn’t that tend to undermine Luke’s point, namely, that Jesus is the saving hope for all human beings, both Jews and Gentiles? How would a partly fictional genealogy back up a factual theological point?

7. In Matthew 19:3-9, in answer to a question about divorce, Jesus refers the Pharisees back to the account of the creation of Adam and Eve in Genesis 1-2. On the face of it, Jesus takes for granted that the Genesis account describes real historical events and individuals. If the paradigmatic married couple never actually existed, wouldn’t this rather undermine Jesus’ argument?

8. In Romans 5:12-21, Paul draws his famous parallel between Adam and Jesus.  The transgression of “one man” (Adam) brought judgment and death, but the obedience of “one man” (Jesus) brought righteousness and life. If Adam never actually existed (never mind sinned), Paul’s parallel — on which his theological argument depends — falls flat.

9. In the same passage, Paul states that “death reigned from Adam to Moses” (verse 14). Paul clearly means to refer to a specific period in human history; but if Adam wasn’t a real historical figure, then there was no historical period from Adam to Moses, in which case Paul’s statement fails to refer (and therefore fails to express a truth).

10. Paul’s parallel between Adam and Christ reappears in 1 Corinthians 15:21-22 (also verse 45). The same considerations apply here as to Romans 5:12-21. If Adam’s sin wasn’t a historical event, Paul’s argument is derailed.

11. In 1 Timothy 2:12-14, Paul refers to specific details about the creation and fall of Adam and Eve to support his instructions about women teaching in the church. The cogency of Paul’s argument depends crucially on the historicity of the events to which he appeals.

12. Jude 14 refers to “Enoch, the seventh from Adam”; it’s a reasonable presumption that the author of Jude viewed both Enoch and Adam as historical individuals. Yes, I realize that complications arise from Jude’s use of the pseudepigraphical book 1 Enoch, and I wouldn’t want to put any more weight on this point than on the interpretation of Hosea 6:7, but evangelicals should bear in mind three simple points: (1) all Scripture is verbally inspired; (2) Jude is Scripture; and (3) the author of Jude didn’t have to mention that Enoch was “seventh from Adam”.

Taken together, these twelve points add up to a strong prima facie case for the traditional Christian view that Adam was a real historical individual. Any scholar who holds to the authority and inerrancy of Scripture, but denies this point, surely has a lot of explaining to do. If all we had to deal with were the first few chapters of Genesis, appeals to genre and other literary considerations might provide sufficient wiggle room. But the twelve observations above indicate that the historicity of Adam is a thread woven all the way through the Bible’s history, theology, and ethics. Pull out that thread and sooner or later the whole garment will unravel.

Addendum: Some readers may wonder why I didn’t include Acts 17:26. There are two reasons for the omission. The first is that this verse doesn’t mention Adam by name (although it’s hard to deny that Paul would have identified the “one man” with Adam). The second reason is that I forgot about it. :)

Update: I’ve posted some follow-up remarks here.

Complacency is pride with a good track record. Anxiety is pride without one.

When it comes to ethical theory, the apologists for the New Atheism are utilitarians almost to a man, if not actually to a man. They endorse some version of the “principle of utility”: what is morally right is what results in the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people.

So what makes people happy? As it turns out, studies consistently show a correlation between religiosity and happiness. (Go here for one recent example.) Religious people typically enjoy happier, more contented, more satisfying lives than non-religious people in comparable circumstances. Yet the New Atheists, by publishing books scathingly critical of religion, are attempting (one assumes) to persuade people to abandon religion. So if the aforementioned studies are reliable, the polemics of the New Atheists — if successful — will most likely reduce the net happiness of the human race. Thus, according to their own ethical theory, they are morally wrong to write and publish their anti-religion tracts.

One might reply that the New Atheists write against religion because they’re firmly convinced that religious beliefs are false, and it’s more important to believe what is true than to believe what makes one happy. This is surely correct, but we should note that this response constitutes a de facto rejection of utilitarian ethics. According to the principle of utility, what’s morally right depends only on what makes us happy, and that principle must apply to our beliefs just as it does to any other aspect of our lives. If certain beliefs increase overall human happiness then we should act so as to promote those beliefs, regardless of whether they happen to be true or false. Rather than opposing what they deride as religious mythology, the New Atheists ought to follow Plato in championing the “noble lie”.

Another possible response would be to argue that although the beliefs of religious folk may well make them happier, those same beliefs make life miserable for everyone else (not least the New Atheists). But as we all know, the non-religious constitute a minority of the world population. Wouldn’t it be morally preferable, on utilitarian principles, for this minority to suffer some relatively minor irritations for the sake of the happiness of the majority? Whatever historical atrocities committed by religious fanatics one might drag up at this point, it would be hard to make a credible case that the total unhappiness represented by these outlying cases outweighs the total happiness enjoyed by the vast number of religious believers in the world as a consequence of their religious convictions. We might also note that the prime targets of religious extremists are usually adherents of other religious traditions, not atheists and agnostics. (The prime targets of secularist extremists, on the other hand, are invariably religious believers, as 20th-century history and current world affairs illustrate only too well.)

So the problem remains. By their own moral lights, wouldn’t the New Atheists do better to suffer in silence?

In fact, they could do even better than that: they could get themselves some religion. Who knows? We might even see them crack a smile or two.

My review of David Bentley Hart’s book Atheist Delusions: The Christian Revolution and Its Fashionable Enemies has been posted over at Discerning Reader.

This post serves as a follow-up to my last post, in response to the comments that my new Arminian friend posted here (on-site) and then here (off-site). (Since he goes here by the username ‘Arminian1′, I will use that name below.) I’m not going to respond point-by-point to his second set of comments, because (i) I simply don’t have the time and energy at the moment, (ii) it would end up so long that I doubt anyone else would have the time, energy, and interest to actually read it, (iii) Steve Hays has already raised some excellent points with which I concur, and (iv) I’m confident enough that anyone who reads Arminian1’s second response, and understands the metaphysical problems I raised for his position, will recognize that  his rebuttal consists largely of hand-waving non-answers (e.g., appeals to divine transcendence, eternity, and omnipotence that somehow function like magic wands to dissolve away, without any further explanation, the paradoxes raised by backward/circular causation).

So for now I will simply address the issue he raised in his first comment. (Since he repeats this point several times in his second response, I suppose this will count as a partial reply to that too!)

Arminian1 commented:

It is true that James responded that Piper was not making the claim “that Calvinism is incompatible with the claim that our prayers can be ‘genuine causes’ of God’s decisions about how to answer those prayers”. However, my response to this pointed out that while I did speak of the issue in terms of God’s decision, I also spoke of the issue in terms of God’s doing the thing requested by the prayer (i.e., answering the prayer). In fact, I went so far as to say that “it is illegitimate to claim that in a Calvinistic/deterministic system that prayer is a cause of anything”. So my response already pointed out that this distinction is meaningless in the context of our conversation. James has chosen to focus on the decision aspect and missed my direct challenge to what he says Piper was talking about—answer to prayer.

Okay, let’s recap. Arminian1’s original objection was that Calvinism can’t accommodate the idea that our prayers can be the causes of God’s answers to those prayers, because on the Calvinist view (1) God has decided in advance how to answer the prayer and (2) God predestines the prayer itself. I pointed out, first of all, that (1) is also true on the classical Arminian view. Does Arminian1 disagree here? Some real progress might be made if he were to make clear his position on this point.

As for (2), this is precisely the point that Piper’s dialog addressed. I haven’t read anything yet from Arminian1 that shows Piper’s claim to be incoherent. Arminian1 originally wrote, “the person’s request for God to do the thing cannot reasonably considered a cause of God doing the thing. God had already decided to do it, and then irresistibly causes the person to ask him to do it.” So which is the problem for the Calvinist? That God had already decided to do it? Well, I’ve addressed that point at great length. Why is Arminian1 now complaining that I did so?

Or is the real problem that God irresistibly causes the person to ask him to do it? Well, why should we think that is incompatible with the claim that the person’s prayer (e.g., for healing) is a cause of the answer to that prayer (e.g., the actual healing)? I’ve yet to hear a good argument for any inconsistency. If I’ve missed it among all the back-and-forth, I’d be grateful for a concise restatement.

Arminian1 is apparently unhappy because I chose to “focus on the decision aspect” rather than his “direct challenge to what he says Piper was talking about—answer to prayer.”  But here’s the thing: the “decision aspect” and the “answer to prayer” are not distinct issues. As I see it, an answer to prayer has two components: (GD) God’s decision about whether (and how) the prayer request will be granted and (GI) God’s implementation of that decision in the events following the prayer. I’ve addressed (GD) and I’ve seen no cogent objection to Piper’s claim that the prayer can be considered a cause of (GI). So I’m at a loss to see why Arminian1 thinks I’ve somehow missed the point.

Ironically here, where he characterizes my argument, he quotes me as directly framing the issue with the idea of God answering prayer! (He quotes me: “the person’s request for God to do the thing cannot reasonably considered a cause of God doing the thing”; how else would one descrbe God answering the prayer?) So having made what seems to him to be a critical distinction between God’s decision for how he will answer prayer and God’s answering of prayer, and charging me with mischaracterizing Piper’s point as being about God’s decision, James now characterizes my argument with a quote of me addressing the issue in the sphere of God answering prayer. It seems that James practically refutes himself on what he represents as one of his two main points of response to me.

As I’ve explained, I didn’t ignore Arminian1’s framing of the issue. Rather, I made some important distinctions and then tried to focus in on the precise point at which the Calvinist view was alleged to be problematic. If Arminian1 is now claiming that wasn’t the point he was making after all, so much the better! But in that case I’m left genuinely confused as to what the point really was.

I’m quite willing to accept correction if I’ve misunderstood the objection Arminian1 meant to raise. However, I’ve re-read his original comments several times and I’m finding it hard to make out what the objection was, if it wasn’t that a human prayer can’t be a “genuine cause” of a prior divine decision. Part of the problem, perhaps, is that Arminian1 seems intent on conflating (GD) and (GI) when speaking of “God’s answering of prayer” while I’ve made a point of distinguishing them and treating them separately.

This is a follow-up to my earlier post, in response to some comments.

To recap: on Justin Taylor’s blog, a commenter called ‘Arminian’ took issue with an article by John Piper by contending that Calvinism is incompatible with the claim that our prayers can be “genuine causes” of God’s decisions about how to answer those prayers. As he put it, “the person’s request for God to do the thing cannot reasonably considered a cause of God doing the thing.” I responded (here and here) that (1) this is correct, but Piper wasn’t making that claim in the first place, and (2) it’s hard to see how our prayers could be “genuine causes” (in the sense intended by ‘Arminian’) on the classical Arminian view either. This post is an elaboration on (2).

1. Let GC be the claim that human prayers are “genuine causes” of divine decisions. I’ll assume that the modifier ‘genuine’ is designed to exclude any understanding of causation that is far removed from our normal understanding of the term, as found in claims like “The moon causes the tides” and “Frank caused the commotion in the dinner hall”.

2. Let CA be the conjunction of the two distinctive claims of classical Arminianism, viz., that humans have libertarian freedom and that God has exhaustive infallible knowledge of all human choices (past, present, and future). The question before us is whether CA and GC can both be true.

3. I take it that God is either timeless or temporal, that is, either (a) God transcends time altogether and therefore does not exist in a series of moments or (b) God inhabits time therefore and exists in an endless series of moments. In the latter case, God may or may not be time-bound prior to the moment of creation. Arminians take different views on this point, but both variants can be treated together for the purposes of this discussion.

4. Consider first the case in which God is temporal. On this view, God infallibly knows at the moment of creation not only every future human prayer but also every response He will make to each prayer. It follows that God’s decisions take place prior to the prayers. After all, it makes little sense to say that God only makes the decision at the time of the prayer, given that He already knows what He will decide! (Just try to imagine yourself in that situation: “I always knew infallibly what I would decide to do today, but now, at long last, the time has come. So, what shall I do?”)

But if God’s decision is an effect, the cause of which is a future human prayer, then the effect temporally precedes the cause. The Arminian who takes this position is thus committed to backward causation. Backward causation is counterintuitive at best and metaphysically impossible at worst; it certainly raises a number of paradoxes that are very difficult to resolve. If Arminianism commits one to backward causation, then so much the worse for Arminianism.

5. Some Arminians, following the lead of Boethius, have appealed to divine timelessness to resolve the tension between divine foreknowledge and human libertarian freedom. ‘Arminian’ seems to take this route in his first reply: “God can do this [i.e., foreknow free human acts] because he is not bound by time.”

Does this move help explain how CA and GC are compatible? I don’t think so. In the first place, our normal understanding of causation is that effects are events, that is, they are temporal occurrences. An effect is what happens because of its cause (or causes) — and happenings are events. Events, of course, take place in time. But if God is timeless, His decisions are also timeless; therefore His decisions cannot be effects (since they cannot be events). Alternatively put: if God’s decisions are effects then God isn’t timeless after all.

6. Here’s a slightly different route to the same conclusion. According to our normal understanding of causation, a cause either temporally precedes or temporally coincides with its effect. So we expect both cause and effect to be temporally related in a certain way, such that both take place in time.

This raises an immediate prima facie problem for Christians who hold that God is timeless. How then could a timeless God cause the world (including time) to come into existence? Now, I’m not raising this as an objection to classical Arminians who understand divine eternity as timelessness. After all, I agree with them on this issue! My point is that we must both concede that some causes can be timeless, even though their effects are temporal. I’d argue that our intuition that causes must be events is not nearly as strong as our intuition that effects must be events, although in this dialectical context I don’t need to. (Notably, many defenders of libertarian freedom make a point of denying that causes must always be events.)

So let’s grant that there can be timeless causes with temporal effects. The more relevant question is whether there can be temporal causes (human prayers) with timeless effects (divine decisions). If the former is coherent, why not think that the latter is equally coherent?

Here’s one reason why not. For those who take God to be timeless, time-boundedness is typically considered a limitation. (This is, after all, one of the main reasons we take God to be timeless.) It makes considerable sense, I think, to hold that a unlimited, time-transcending being has the power to affect limited, time-bound beings. Does it make just as much sense to hold that limited, time-bound beings have the power to affect an unlimited, time-transcending being? The greater has control over the lesser, but does the lesser have control over the greater? God can “reach into” a time-bound universe with His causal powers. But can I “reach out” of a time-bound universe with my causal powers?

There clearly isn’t a parity between the two. So the burden of proof, I suggest, remains firmly on the one (such as ‘Arminian’) who claims that temporal causes can bring about timeless effects.

7. Here’s a final argument against the claim that CA and GC are compatible. I’ve already noted the difficulty in reconciling CA and GC on the assumption that God is in time. But the problem doesn’t go away merely by placing God outside time, since a timeless God still has the power to cause events within time, which once again raises the specter of backward causation.

Consider this scenario. Suppose I offer a prayer to God today that somehow causes His (timeless) decision to respond in a certain way. (Remember that this is what our commenter ‘Arminian’ claims actually happens in practice.) On this view, God not only knows (timelessly) about my prayer, but His response is caused by the prayer.

Since God transcends time, it is possible (given CA) for God to have revealed both my prayer and His response to some person, S, who lived 100 years ago. Thus it is possible for God to cause S to believe some proposition like the following:

(FP) Someone in 2009 will pray X, and God will do Y in answer to his prayer.

But in that case, my prayer would be a partial cause of S’s coming to believe FP. There would be a causal chain beginning in 2009, passing through eternity (via God’s knowledge and will), and ending in 1909. We’re faced with the possibility of backward causation again.

8. The scenario can be extended so as to make the problem even more acute. Suppose that God not only reveals FP to S, but also commands S to write it down. We now have a physical piece of paper in the year 1909 with the details of my prayer and God’s response written on it. Suppose further that this piece of paper is copied again, and again, and again.

The upshot is that if human prayers can be “genuine causes” of God’s timeless decisions, then my prayer today could be (or could have been) the partial cause of dozens of written records of that prayer existing 100 years ago. In fact, one of those papers — even the original written by S — could make its way through history into my hands today. Imagine the scene as I look down at the paper in my hand which tells me about the very prayer I will offer today and God’s answer to it. I wonder, would I feel at that moment that I had libertarian freedom to not offer that prayer?

In fact, it gets worse. For I might well decide to offer that prayer today because I know I will anyhow and because I know what God’s response will be (assuming it’s favorable). But then I’d be involved in a causal loop: my prayer would be the partial cause of itself! It seems that GC and CA together commit us to the possibility of circular causation as well as backward causation.

Furthermore (and this may be the crowning oddity) if I have libertarian freedom, as CA maintains, then at the point I freely offer my prayer I have the power not only to cause all those paper records to exist (or to have existed) but also to cause them not to exist (or not to have existed) — even though, due to the very pastness of the past, whether or not they existed has already been settled.

9. It won’t do to say, by way of objection, that in the scenario above I would only have the power to make false the propositions expressed in writing on the papers. The idea here, presumably, is that if I opted to pray otherwise (or to refrain from praying) the papers written in 1909 would be physically unaltered but would turn out to express falsehoods rather than truths. The problem with this claim is that it involves the falsification of divine revelation, something no classical Arminian would want to countenance. Remember that ex hypothesi these papers were written at God’s command, as a record of God’s revelation. If I have the power to falsify divine revelation, then Judas had the power to falsify Psalm 41:9 (cf. John 13:18). This way lies Open Theism, not classical Arminianism.

10. Neither will it do to say that while my hypothetical scenario is possible, it would never actually happen (perhaps because God just wouldn’t act that way) and therefore there would never actually be a causal chain from the present to the past. There are two reasons why this response is inadequate.

The first reason is that the mere possibility of the scenario is enough to show the problem in reconciling CA and GC. If the conjunction of CA and GC implies the possibility of backward/circular causation, then (by modus tollens) the impossibility of backward/circular causation implies that CA and GC cannot both be true.

The second reason this response won’t fly is because, as a matter of historical fact, a scenario very similar to the one I’ve described has in fact happened (minus the assumption that human prayers are “genuine causes” of divine decisions). Consider this prophecy from Jeremiah:

“For thus says the Lord: When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place. For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, declares the Lord, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.” (Jer. 29:10-14)

Here we find:

1. An infallible prediction of a future human prayer.
2. An infallible prediction of the divine response to that human prayer.
3. A physical written record of those predictions, with (most likely) multiple subsequent copies of that written record.
4. The possession of that written record by some of the humans who would eventually offer the prayer (see Daniel 9).

The one thing we don’t find here is the suggestion that the human prayer is a “genuine cause” of a timeless divine decision. But it’s precisely that claim which introduces the philosophical problems I’ve spelled out above. So it seems that if the classical Arminian has to drop one claim to maintain coherence, it should be GC.

11. The last argument can be adapted, of course, to apply to the case in which God is time-bound. In other words, the problems arise whether or not one takes God to be “bound by time.” The difficulties arise not because of the relationship between God and time, but because of the implications of CA and GC taken together.

12. None of this raises any problems that I can discern for Piper’s original claim that our prayers can be the causes of the answers to those prayers, even if those prayers are foreordained. The same claim holds for classical Arminianism, with its weaker notion of foreordination.

But what doesn’t stand up to scrutiny, in light of the arguments I’ve offered above, is the claim that classical Arminianism has an advantage over Calvinism in that it can accommodate the idea that our prayers are “genuine causes” of God’s decisions about how to answer those prayers.