Month: September 2015

Stick to Science

Bill Nye recently came out with a video blasting the pro-life position. He took this shot at religious belief:

Sorry, you guys. I know it was written — or your interpretation of a book written 5,000 years ago, 50 centuries ago, makes you think that when a man and a woman have sexual intercourse, they always have a baby. That’s wrong, and so to pass laws based on that belief is inconsistent with nature. I mean, it’s hard not to get frustrated with this, everybody.

There are several errors here, but I’ll just focus on the interpretive assertion. Is there any pro-life, Christian leader who believes intercourse always results in a baby? No, of course not, since the Old and New Testaments record the stories of several women who struggled with infertility, including Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Leah, Hannah, Elizabeth, and Michal. How does Nye imagine these women found out they were infertile?

Nye should stick to science.

What the Automobile Hath Wrought

I was reading an article on the Pope’s recent visit to America when I ignored every sensible piece of internet advice and scrolled down to read the comments. Aside from an atheist troll peppering the thread with nonsensical, boorish, or otherwise tangential broadsides, there were some rather lengthy exchanges about the level of disunity in Protestantism. Several commentators cited the fact that Protestantism has 33,000 denominations as evidence it is not being led by the Holy Spirit, and therefore, we should not be Protestant or follow sola Scriptura. Evidently, the level of division within Protestantism is clearly a sign it is a failed expression of Christianity.

The claim is deceptively simple. I think it plays on vague, broadly Christian assumptions about what is good and bad in faith and practice, but when you try to tease out just what is being argued here it gets rather difficult to prove.

I gather the argument goes something like this:

  1. Division is ungodly.
  2. Protestants are divided into 33,000 denominations.
  3. Therefore, Protestant ecclesiology is “unworkable” and/or “false.”

Or maybe it might go like this (which obviously assumes premise #1 from the first argument):

  1. The Church was united before Protestants began practicing sola Scriptura.
  2. Ever since sola Scriptura was invented, Protestants have continuously divided, and now there are over 33,000 denominations.
  3. Therefore, sola Scriptura is “unworkable” and/or “false.”

Now, the second argument strikes me as a simple post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy given historical and sociological changes over the past several centuries (which I will discuss below). But let me treat some of the issues with the first.

The 33,000 Statistic

The source of this rather high number is Barrett’s World Christian Encyclopedia. As far as I can tell, the methodology in Barrett’s work is such that each “denomination” is counted along organizational lines, not doctrinal lines. In other words, two Baptist churches in the same town that are virtually united in doctrine–same creeds, same practice of church discipline, etc.–would be counted as separate denominations simply because they are hierarchically independent of each other.

So baked into this argument are certain assumptions about what counts as ungodly disunity. The objection seems to be that Protestants are not organizationally united. But why assume that should be our standard? Barrett’s work is both informative and thorough, but it is neither inspired nor authoritative. In fact, the New Testament doesn’t define godly unity along organizational lines, so why should we? Consider Jesus’ remark in Luke 9:49-50 to the disciples upon discovering a miracle worker who wasn’t part of their organizational structure: “Do not stop him, for the one who is not against you is for you.” On Barrett’s methodology, this man would have counted as his own “denomination,” yet there is no indication Jesus frowned upon this sort of “division.” Quite the opposite. And Paul pointed out that though the Corinthians came together under one roof–one Apostolic organization–they were still divided.

What about Doctrinal Division?

Now, let’s say an interlocutor wants to refine his objection. He acknowledges the difficulty with citing the unqualified number: he says the New Testament does seem to care more about unity of ideas than unity of organization. But surely there are some major doctrinal divisions present within Protestantism. Just look at all the differences over baptism, elders, and eschatology! Doesn’t this mean Protestantism is unworkable or false?

First I would want to know what is meant by Protestantism. Whole swarms of people claim to be Protestant, yet it is clear that not everyone who calls themselves a Protestant would even count as a Christian. Unitarians, Mormons, and Jehovah Witnesses seem to count as “Protestant,” but is there any reason to think they are Christian? They deny core tenants of the historic creeds.

The trouble is where to draw the line for the evaluation. For example, I would consider myself somewhere in the Evangelical spectrum of theology. Should I evaluate sola Scriptura by the doctrinal division among Evangelicals? Yet even this is subject to important qualifications. Evangelicals are divided on many issues, but the number of contentious issues becomes increasingly smaller as you move from merely self-identified Evangelicals to those who actually believe the tenants of traditional Evangelicalism. As the devastating Barna Survey demonstrated, some self-professed Evangelicals have not even “accepted Christ as their savior.” Surely Protestants cannot be held accountable for non-Christians who merely claim to be Evangelicals because of social or historical expectations.

Perhaps the idea is that we should compare one organizationally united denomination with another organizationally united denomination. Now, to be frank, those are terms I’ll accept simply to prove a point. As a member of the Presbyterian Church in America, I am fairly confident my fairly small, culturally homogeneous denomination is united in matters of doctrine far more than the billion or so Catholics in the world.

Of course, this entire exercise assumes the presence of doctrinal division at any level–personal or structural–should automatically rule out an entire movement as deficient enough to abandon. Not only would that standard invalidate virtually every New Testament church that Paul wrote to, that is not the standard by which God judges a church to be true or false.

Many denominations are rather united in their belief systems, but since when was internal consistency the standard by which we judged something true or not? That would make cults, especially the kind where you are punished for violating “orthodoxy,” some of the most virtuous expressions of faith in the world.

Aside from the muddled thinking, there are sociological reasons to dismiss this line of argument.

Ascribing to Protestantism the Difficulties of Modernity

The assertion that sola Scriptura is to blame for Christian division (organizational or doctrinal) fails to account for the many causes of division in the modern world. These include forces that negatively affect Catholicism.

A great deal of the persistent, modern organizational disunity can be blamed on the invention of the automobile and the modernist conceit that we are free to determine meaning for ourselves. (My claims here are confined mostly to the West. I can’t speak to trends in African Protestant Christianity, for example, although I would note that organizational division in China is almost entirely due to ruthless state persecution. It has nothing to do with the Chinese church’s rule of faith.) Unlike the rural past, violating church discipline is no longer a choice that imposes enormous social (and sometimes physical) costs. In previous centuries, you could not just switch churches when the minister’s sermons bored you or otherwise haunted your conscience as you violated choice commandments throughout the week. You would be lucky to have more than one church in your community, and skipping town in a traditionalist culture where people were not apt to trust foreigners or strangers would risk your entire livelihood and sense of self-worth.

But today it is a simple matter for a Christian offended by long sermons and ineffectual community leaders to get in his car and drive away with hardly a material consequence. (He can then drive to the next area church and complain about how awful his previous church was.) All of these movements in and out of churches can cause all sorts of doctrinal confusion, and this is exacerbated in the age of internet communications and the exceptional decline in trust for authority figures and institutions.

Multiculturalism, Language, and American Christianity

There are other causes of organizational and doctrinal division. One of them is simply that Christianity has exploded into many different cultures. A lot of the Catholic apologetic on division draws from a somewhat mythological or anachronistic view of Christianity that was fairly unrepresentative of most Christians in the ancient and medieval eras. Our written Christian documents come from educated, mostly European elites who spoke Latin and lived in a world where the power of the state worked hand in hand with the power of the church. It shouldn’t be surprising that there was demographic and ideological unity among those who represented the church, especially given the extent of illiteracy before the modern era–most of the people with dissenting views simply had no way of recording or disseminating their doctrinal beliefs. With increasing language and cultural barriers, increasing geographical distances between Christians, and the explosion of the absolute number of Christians living in the world, it is only natural that we’ve seen a significant increase in organizational disunity among Protestants (and all Christians).

There is also a distinctly American aspect to organizational division, which Catholics feel too. As sociologist Stephen Warner explains:

Nonetheless, in American popular imagination, the congregational ideal retains great sway. Because direct governmental financial support of religious institutions is ruled out by the separation of church and state, churches had to raise their own funds and arrange for the maintenance of their properties and programs. The resulting profusion of religious volunteerism in American civil society easily suggested to those millions of volunteers–bricklayers, cooks, quilters, Sunday school teachers, ushers, deacons, and tithers–that the church they support belongs to them. Pastors in all American denominations often find themselves in the position of reminding their lay councils that the church belongs to God.

Thus a popular spirit of “de-facto congregationalism” pervades U.S. Protestant churches. A local congregation may choose a hymnal or Sunday school curriculum produced by an independent publishers over the one prescribed by their denomination. They may feel entitled to call clergy of their own liking, in defiance of, or skirting on the edge of, the rules set forth by the bishop, synod, or presbytery. They may divert their financial support away from the denomination toward a parachurch agency, toward a social movement organization, or toward some local need.

De-facto congregationalism has liberalizing and conservatizing effects. Over the past forty years, when liberal denominations decided it was time to ordain women, local congregations could take advantage of complicated call procedures to drag their feet on hiring women clergy. In the past twenty years, many liberal congregations tried, and some succeeded, in ordaining gays and lesbians to clergy or governing council status in defiance of denominational proscriptions. When some denominations changed those very proscriptions, other, more conservative congregations pulled out. Given the complex history of property deeds and the decentralization of America’s common law system, they may eventually succeed in taking their property with them. De-facto congregationalism appeals to both sides of current political divides.

Roman Catholics are not immune to these forces either:

Moreover, the spirit of de facto congregationalism is not confined to Protestant churches. It appeals to many American Catholics with respect to their parishes. Not that any parish as a body could easily leave the Church, but that the diocese’s plans to replace a beloved parish pastor, to merge parochial schools, or to close parishes often meet with stiff, sometimes successful, resistance from parishioners organized for the purpose. Moreover, the U.S. Catholic church is being partly reshaped by the appeal of the congregational notion that the local church is an assembly of like-minded believers rather than the faithful who live within diocesan-defined geographical boundaries. So “magnet parishes” that serve one or another constituency within the church–social justice, LGBT-friendly, family-friendly, high liturgical, ethnic–proliferate in U.S. metropolitan dioceses.

So far, this much should be clear. Although it has deep roots in the Puritan strain of American Protestantism, de facto congregationalism is neither confined to Protestant churches nor is it necessarily an expression of the normative ideals of all of them. It defies episcopal and presbyterian norms. Instead, de facto congregationalism is an expression of the religious side of American civic culture.

When Catholics blame 33,000 denominations on the Protestant idea of sola Scriptura, they paper over the rather incredible technological, sociological, and demographic shifts of the last several centuries. It is simply an exercise in historical ignorance to assume these forces are not to blame for much of the organizational and doctrinal disunity in modern, Western Christianity. Short of punishing heresy with death and becoming antidisestablishmentarian, how does a church avoid these effects in an era of religious freedom? If the expectation is that a truly faithful church will avoid splintering, since Jesus promised unity in his Church, then it is safe to say American Catholicism is not a truly faithful church either.

In fact, to see how absurd this argument is, let us just turn it around completely: we might as well say the millions of Christians leaving the Catholic denomination over the years is due to the failings of the Magisterium, and, therefore, we should no longer organize the Catholic Church under a council of bishops led by the Pope. In fact, people are leaving Roman Catholicism in droves because of its doctrinal stances, but that doesn’t tell us whether Roman Catholicism’s organizational structure or doctrinal beliefs are true or false.

I don’t find the 33,000 denominations argument very persuasive. Perhaps it can be salvaged, but it’s hard to see how it can overcome its methodological, exegetical, and sociological shortcomings. Maybe someone else is up to the task?

Miracles and the Ad Hoc Fallacy

According to one atheist, the ad hoc fallacy:

is normally used more narrowly to refer to some explanation which is exists for no other reason but to save a favored hypothesis.

Typically, you will see statements referred to as “ad hoc rationalizations” or “ad hoc explanations” when someone’s attempt to explain an event is effectively disputed or undermined and so the speaker reaches for some way to salvage what he can. The result is an “explanation” which is not very coherent, does not really “explain” anything at all, and which has no testable consequences – even though to someone already inclined to believe it, it certainly looks valid.

Here is a commonly cited example:

I was healed from cancer by God!
Really? Does that mean that God will heal all others with cancer?
Well… God works in mysterious ways.

The author uses this examples to identify three key characteristics of an ad hoc fallacy. I will respond to each below:

A key characteristic of ad hoc rationalizations is that the “explanation” offered is only expected to apply to the one instance in question. For whatever reason, it is not applied any other time or place and is not offered as a general principle. Note in the above that God’s “miraculous powers of healing” are not applied to all cancer sufferers, but only this one at this time and for reasons which are completely unknown.

This is confused. Even if we accept the tedious formulation of this argument (why assume one is healed requires all are healed), I don’t see a reason to suggest this explanation must apply only to this one instance. The idea that divine providence is mysterious could apply to a great many miraculous healings.

This reply also seems to treat God’s healing activities as a uniform power or principle, rather than as an act of agency. But why expect that these miraculous powers should apply to all cancer sufferers?

Another key characteristic of an ad hoc rationalization is that it contradicts some other basic assumption – and often an assumption which is was either explicit or implicit in the original explanation itself. That is why, usually, an ad hoc statement is only applied in one instance and then quickly forgotten. Because of this, ad hoc explanations are often cited as an example of the fallacy of Special Pleading. In the above, the idea that not everyone will be healed by God contradicts the common belief that God loves everyone equally.

1) The term equally is hopelessly ambiguous. Is this supposed to imply that everyone should be treated in exactly the same way by God? I am going to assume otherwise, since this dissolves into absurdity almost immediately: does God love unequally when he creates one person taller than another?

2) Does it mean that if one good thing happens to one person, it should happen to everyone? For example, if one person gets a certain amount of money, everyone should get that amount of money too? That would be a set of miracles that treat everyone to the same good, yet clearly the cumulative effect would be merely to and devalue currency. And people value or use money differently than others. So I don’t imagine it’s that.

3) Or is equally only to do with the reduction of suffering (of certain kinds?) when someone asks for relief? For example, if a notorious, unrepentant serial killer–who is likely to kill again–is dying of cancer, should God heal him because a virtuous, selfless relief worker was healed of cancer last week?

4) While I am having trouble even salvaging this argument, at this point it’s trivial to note that no standard conception of Christian doctrine asserts any of these ideas. And Scripture is filled with examples of God treating various members of his people, whom he loves, differently. For example, compare Jesus’ fascinating treatment of Mary and Martha in John 11 (which the text identifies as an expression of Jesus’ “love”) as they dealt with the death of Lazarus.

5) I am also unclear what is meant by loves. Is the idea of love here that everyone should be happy, that serious suffering is contradictory the idea of a God who loves equally? That may work for definitions of Christianity languishing in Moral Therapeutic Deism, but it does not have any currency with theological frameworks that: (a) allow for suffering to produce more good (including personal joy and pleasure) than would have existed without it; and, (b) define love (agape) according to its New Testament use.


A third characteristic is the fact that the “explanation” has no testable consequences. What could possibly be done to test to see if God is working in “mysterious ways” or not? How could we tell when it is happening and when it is not? How could we differentiate between a system where God has acted in a “mysterious way” and one where the results are due to chance or some other cause?

These are questions in lieu of an argument. What does the author mean by testable? Does he mean replication in a lab? Eyewitness testimony from doctors? Divine revelation via dream or vision?

Let’s consider a recent miraculous healing account:

Over a year ago, a freak accident left me with 40% hearing loss in my left ear. After a wrong diagnosis, I was referred to Dr. David Haynes at@vanderbiltu, who correctly diagnosed me. I was the 2nd patient he had ever seen with this condition (the malleus bone broke, and surgery was too risky to attempt in this case). The bottom line is, there was no solution medically. It was a permanent issue I just had to learn to live with. He even consulted a colleague at the Mayo clinic bc it was such a crazy case. They agreed-nothing could be done.

I prayed for a miracle with Audrey, and I didn’t get it. I haven’t prayed for one since bc my heart was so wounded. A few months ago, the Lord prompted me to do exactly that, and today I cried in a hospital room as he stared at me, dumbfounded by the fact that my hearing has miraculously returned to a normal level. He looked in my left ear and said, “Wait-which side was the bad one?” I will never forget his face when he asked “What have you done in the last few months so I can explain this to my colleagues?” I replied, “I prayed.” Maybe you needed to be reminded (as I did) that we serve a God who is still in the miracle business…

What is ad hoc about attributing this healing to God? I’m not a doctor, but from what I understand, this is a highly unlikely natural coincidence.

I would assume the objection in this case is that it could still possibly be due to chance. But what makes that ad hoc under the definitions above? Does what counts as ad hoc have more to do with assumed metaphysical presuppositions than strict rules of logic?

It is incorrect to pit the natural against the supernatural. While the cause (or causes) of a healing can be ambiguous, even if we can identify a (proximate) physical cause, that doesn’t mean there is no (ultimate) nonmaterial cause. That just assumes metaphysical naturalism from the get go. Miracles are not simply a subtraction story, existing in shadows yet to be dispersed by scientific explanation. Miracles can be acts of what we might otherwise call extremely improbable coincidence.

So I am suspicious that testable here means anything other than replication in a lab. But why limit explanations to laboratory results? This omits a range of possible explanations.

Continuing with the ad hoc explanation:

The fact of the matter is, we can’t – the “explanation” offered above provides us with nothing to test, something which is a direct consequence of having failed to provide a better understanding of the circumstances at hand. That, of course, is what an explanation is supposed to do, and why an ad hoc explanation is a defective explanation.

Thus, most ad hoc rationalizations do not really “explain” anything at all. The claim that “God works in mysterious ways” does not tell us how or why this person was healed, much less how or why others will not be healed. A genuine explanation makes events more understandable, but if anything the above rationalization makes the situation less understandable and less coherent.

In high school I had a friend who received an anonymous check each year that covered her tuition. Without the money, she would not have been able to attend. Why did this benefactor choose my friend over another? There were plenty of other needy students, including students who wanted to attend but couldn’t because their parents were too poor.

The motives of the person were mysterious. In fact, they remain mysterious to this day. Yet the check was there, every year, without fail. Does the fact that we can’t explain this behavior mean any explanation involving agency is ad hoc? Or doesn’t count as a “genuine” explanation? I don’t see how that follows.

The Modern Pharisee

Where does the moral satisfaction of political progressives come from? I can understand religious hubris–after all, the Pharisees thought themselves particularly righteous and thus entitled to divine favor from the Lord of the universe. Pride is a natural disposition for the religious. (And perhaps that is one reason God lets his people experience so much cultural shame, to keep the Church with a sense of humility.)

But the justification for progressive self-satisfaction eludes me. There’s no divine mandate, as it were, driving their philosophical or moral commitments. In fact, some are open about the ultimate meaninglessness of the universe and the complete subjectivity of all moral values. So why are they so quick to condescend and insult those who differ with them?

Is it the disproportionate wealth or “success” of many progressives that give them their outsized sense of worth? Writing a critically celebrated science fiction novel or graduating from Yale law school can certainly inflate one’s sense of self-worth. Yet there are poor and relatively obscure progressives who look down their noses at everyone else too.

Is it better explained by those old superstitions so many now reflexivly dismiss? Demonic influence would be deliciously ironic. But however plausible, the mystery remains.

No matter. The smug hostility lasts only a short while. Even the arrogant must suffer the ravages of time, for divine judgment is inexorable.

Sanders at Liberty

Yesterday, Bernie Sanders, a far-left candidate for the Democratic nomination, gave a speech at the conservative Liberty University. (For a transcript, see here.) I don’t usually care what a politician says in a speech, since most political speeches are devoid of reasoning and consist of emoting and appealing to ambiguous terminology (like “justice,” “hope,” “freedom,” and, “opportunity”) without any meaningful policy proposals.

But Sanders’ speech was interesting from both a political and religious perspective. Like Rand Paul’s speeches at Howard and Berkeley, you can sometimes learn a great deal about a speaker when he has to argue in front of an ideologically alien (or hostile) audience. In this case, it was interesting to see how Sanders sought to reason with a religiously and politically conservative audience.

(Not surprisingly, the students were cordial, if not enthusiastic. While I have read Liberty students are required to attend such speeches, there was none of the usual protesting, demonstrations, sit-ins or “safe spaces” that appear on liberal campuses when conservatives are invited to speak. For example, I can’t really imagine my alma mater inviting Rick Santorum or Ryan Anderson to speak about the politics of marriage without some sort of major protest.)

As for Sanders’ speech, let me quote several paragraphs:

Let me take a moment, or a few moments, to tell you what motivates me in the work that I do as a public servant, as a senator from the state of Vermont. And let me tell you that it goes without saying, I am far, far from being a perfect human being, but I am motivated by a vision, which exists in all of the great religions, in Christianity, in Judaism, in Islam and Buddhism, and other religions.

And that vision is so beautifully and clearly stated in Matthew 7:12, and it states, “So in everything, do to others what you would have them to do to you, for this sums up the war and the prophets.” That is the golden rule. Do unto others, what you would have them do to you. That is the golden rule, and it is not very complicated.

Let me be frank, as I said a moment ago. I understand that the issues of abortion and gay marriage are issues that you feel very strongly about. We disagree on those issues. I get that, but let me respectfully suggest that there are other issues out there that are of enormous consequence to our country and in fact to the entire world, that maybe, just maybe, we do not disagree on and maybe, just maybe, we can try to work together to resolve them.

Amos 5:24, “But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream.” Justice treating others the way we want to be treated, treating all people, no matter their race, their color, their stature in life, with respect and with dignity.

Now here is my point. Some of you may agree with me, and some of you may not, but in my view, it would be hard for anyone in this room today to make the case that the United States of America, our great country, a country which all of us love, it would be hard to make the case that we are a just society, or anything resembling a just society today.

In the United States of America today, there is massive injustice in terms of income and wealth inequality. Injustice is rampant. We live, and I hope all of you know this, in the wealthiest country in the history of the world.

You know, that is the truth. We are living in a time — and I warn all of you if you would, put this in the context of the Bible, not me, in the context of the Bible — we are living in a time where a handful of people have wealth beyond comprehension. And I’m talking about tens of billions of dollars, enough to support their families for thousands of years. With huge yachts, and jet planes and tens of billions. More money than they would ever know what to do with.

But at that very same moment, there are millions of people in our country, let alone the rest of the world, who are struggling to feed their families. They are struggling to put a roof over their heads, and some of them are sleeping out on the streets. They are struggling to find money in order to go to a doctor when they are sick.

Now, when we talk about morality, and when we talk about justice, we have to, in my view, understand that there is no justice when so few have so much and so many have so little.

There is no justice, and I want you to hear this clearly, when the top one-tenth of 1 percent — not 1 percent, the top one-tenth of 1 percent — today in America owns almost as much wealth as the bottom 90 percent. And in your hearts, you will have to determine the morality of that, and the justice of that.

In my view, there is no justice, when here, in Virginia and Vermont and all over this country, millions of people are working long hours for abysmally low wages of $7.25 an hour, of $8 an hour, of $9 an hour, working hard, but unable to bring in enough money to adequately feed their kids.

Unsurprisingly, Sanders is concerned about material prosperity. After all, that is what the left is about these days. There is no room in the progressive agenda for any of the transcendent concerns that have traditionally occupied the human race–virtue, character, and religion.

That said, there are places in this country–some I have seen first-hand–where there is a great deal of poverty. I do not mean the kind of poverty where someone is upset they cannot afford a larger television or a luxury car, but the sort that grinds at dignity and hope with a thousand afflictions both systemic and personal. Travelling farther to reach a decent grocery store, spending more on security, the aesthetic degradation of streets and shops, the constant sense of fear from inadequately policed streets, the reeking of trash and sewage, the roaches and rodents, the squealing of poorly maintained vehicles–real poverty assaults both the soul and the senses.

The statistical evidence bears this out. While sometimes these figures are exaggerated, there is no question that the broader picture is one of the rich becoming richer and everyone else staying mostly the same, including millions who struggle every day to make ends meet.

Sanders and the Justice of God

So Sanders is correct to identify a set of significant injustices. But that is only part of the issue. It is one matter to state that some problem exists. It is another entirely to say it is a problem greater than all others (as Sanders’ broader platform would suggest) and that proposed (in this case, progressive) solutions are the best available.

But I couldn’t find anything in Sanders’ speech that comes close to an attempt to reason in favor of his policy proposals. Like many politicians, Sanders seems to state a set of facts and lets underlying, unspoken assumptions do the rest of the work:

Now you have got to think about it. You have to think about it and you have to feel it in your guts. Are you content? Do you think it’s moral when 20 percent of the children in this country, the wealthiest country in the history of the world, are living in poverty? Do you think it is acceptable that 40 percent of African American children are living in poverty?

These rhetorical questions are designed to evoke certain answers. Of course it is unacceptable that there are children living in poverty.

But what then? I may agree with a progressive that something is really evil, but if we have different ideas as to what counts as just, we will likely go about solving that problem in different ways. This is because, to turn a well-known phrase, no policy solution is an island. Every policy proposal will use our limited resources in ways that restrict and constrain how we can deal with other political difficulties. Since progressives tend to have a myopic view of justice, their policy proposals have unintended (usually negative) effects on many areas that are of concern to conservatives, especially religious ones.

As for Sanders’ textual appeals:

It is careless to assume the American concept of justice just so happens to align with the Biblical one. (The concept of justice is a rather thick one, and historically very diverse. See Tamler Sommers’ overview in Relative Justice [Princeton University Press, 2012]. Many concepts of justice are mutually exclusive.) As it turns out, Sanders may cite Matthew and Amos in making his (Rawlsian?) case for economic justice, but his appeal elides the substantive differences between the Scriptural description of justice and Sanders’ decidedly secular vision of a rightly ordered political universe. Just what are those differences?

(A) In the Old Testament, the concept of justice has a specifically delineated meaning given in the Pentateuch that is further refined in subsequent historical practice. As Old Testament scholar Christopher Wright describes it:

For Israel, then, justice was no abstract concept or philosophical definition. Justice was essentially theological. It was rooted in the character of the LORD, their God; it flowed from his actions in history; it was demanded by his covenant relationship with Israel; it would ultimately be established on the earth only by his sovereign power (Old Testament Ethics for the People of God, 256).

(But what of Sanders’ appeal to Jesus? I start with the Old Testament because that is what informs the New. Jesus’ concept of justice was based in the Old Testament. Biblical justice is not a word into which we can import our modern sensibilities about what is right or wrong, no matter how popular or appealing the sentiment might be.)

(B) While justice was intimately tied to material outcomes–God expected that there were to be no poor in Israel (Deuteronomy 15:4) and provided laws and mechanisms to reduce and eliminate poverty–it was never divorced from spiritual concerns. And there was a third aspect that is often completely ignored in our political dialogue–what we might call a social one. Right government action, which serves as the primary vehicle of progressive justice, does little to cultivate community virtue, let alone a righteous standing with God. If anything, some (but not all) government programs absent these two other factors can create structures of dependency and polarized, resentful constituencies that contribute to the moral decay of the political and social order.

(C) Furthermore, the Biblical vision of governmental justice is alien to the left’s. Sanders might cite Amos, but there is no question Amos would be against the very idea of government sanctioned gay marriage; it would have been anathema to his sense of justice, to what constituted a rightly ordered (extended) family structure as based on the precepts of the Pentateuch, which promoted monogamous marriage and frowned upon (to put it mildly) homosexual relationships. In fact, rightly ordered families would have been integral to the promotion of civic, community, and personal justice, the absence of which would have (and eventually did, in the judgment and exile) prevented economic flourishing. Amos’ vision of justice has more in common with Kim Davis than Bernie Sanders.

(D) Sanders’ view of justice also neglects the Old Testament’s complex view of poverty, which seems to always be downstream of a failure of justice. Whereas Sanders seems to think the cure for most poverty is redistribution, the Bible identifies at least four causes of poverty: (1) poor personal choices, due either to character flaws or naïvety (a major theme in Proverbs); (2) systemic evil (especially by cruel, corrupt or unlawful monarchs, pagan or Jewish); (3) natural disasters (famine, pestilence, or even raiding bands or tribes); and, (4) spiritual (demonic) affliction (as occurs in Job). Even discounting #3, which has been largely mitigated by modern technology, and #4, which is scoffed at by moderns, Sanders doesn’t seem to acknowledge the personal side of poverty. It is simply a fact that some people are impoverished because of habitually awful personal choices. The Biblical vision of justice addresses all of these aspects, whereas, so far as I can tell, Sanders’ addresses only one half of one. And if one’s sense of justice is warped, so will his solutions to perceived injustices, let alone the full range of actual ones.

(E) As for abortion, Sanders does not understand that the Biblical sense of justice was grounded in the Abrahamic promises of a fruitful people out of whom would come the promised savior. To have children was not a choice grounded in personal fulfillment–people today treat child-rearing only a little better than pet selection–but an act that was helping forward the very salvation of the world. Every devout Jewish woman would have longed to be the mother of the savior of the world. The idea of potentially aborting that child would have been morally abhorrent.

It is not enough to ensure that our neighbors have a certain material standard. The good civic life depends on the character of those enforcing bureaucracies and laws and the virtuous behavior of our neighbors. This idea of virtuous behavior is further defined and shaped by the moral expectations of God’s law as delivered in the Pentateuch, none of which has any place in the progressive sense of justice.

While I applaud Sanders’ willingness to dialogue with ideological opposites, I did not find his case all that appealing.

Deception and Creation

I’ve never really found the anti-creationist objection that mature creation, if true, signals a sort of divine deception, therefore (because God is honest, etc.), it must be false. I mean, so much of the universe is deceptive by that measure. Just look up at the night sky: you think you’re looking at individual stars, but most stars you see are actually made up of a binary (or trinary, etc.) system:


Is God deceiving us by hiding (as it were) this fact from us, by making each star appear to be a single object, but in reality two (or more)?

Or consider another example: how this desk in front of me looks quite solid, but is really made up of mostly “empty” space. Most of the many billions of people who have ever lived have had no grasp of particle physics, and nothing about any solid object suggests it might be made up of countless trillions of particles. This sort of deception is common throughout the universe and seems to hold on any of the common views of creation.

If mature creation is deceptive because it is designed to appear one way but is in reality really another way, so too is the evolutionary account of the world. It’s not an objection that selects for one view or the other.