Bible, Theology & Philosophy

Read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

Postmodernity and the Demonic Imagination

Among conservatives, postmodernism is almost universally spoken of in derision. The derisive attitude is understandable, especially given the consequences of what postmodernity has produced. What conservatives sometimes fail to recognize, however, is the significant contribution that postmodernism has made in its critique of modernity.

The advantage of postmodernity is that it emphasizes the bankruptcy of the modern turn. Modernity progressively (the pun is deliberate) sacrificed the transcendent universe, then the moral universe, then the ordered universe. Without an ordered universe, of course, there is no universe at all. Whatever is “out there” can be construed in an indefinite variety of ways.

Far from bemoaning the postmodern criticism of modernity, I believe that we should applaud it. Modernity was an assertion of human arrogance and autonomy. It was based upon the pretence that the facts were clear in themselves and could be understood so as to produce truth transparently. Postmodernism reminds us that brute facts do not exist. Whenever an observer notices an object or event as a fact, that person has already, by the act of noticing, interpreted and assigned a value to it.

Postmoderns are right to insist that the only reality we know is interpreted reality. They are also right to insist that we always interpret reality from within our own situation, and that our interpretation of reality invariably reflects certain pre-interpretive commitments that we have made. In fact, as Christians we go even further along this line. We insist that every human, being depraved, has a pre-interpretive commitment to sin and idolatry. Faced with the facts, in our natural state we invariably construe them in such a way as to legitimate our treason against the Creator.

(First published at SI, June 6, 2006)

Pitfalls in the Pursuit of Biblical Patterns

In Scripture, casting lots is routine. Some might even say it’s the normal way to decide a difficult question. The OT ¹ contains 24 references to “cast lots,” “casting lots,” and “the lot fell.” Two of these are in Proverbs where lot-casting is highly recommended.

The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord (Prov. 16:33).

Casting lots causes contentions to cease, and keeps the mighty apart (Prov. 18:18).

In addition, the Urim and Thummim (probably a form of lot-casting) have a prominent place in Mosaic Law. All in all, the OT is very pro-lot.

The NT seems to be in favor of the practice as well. Casting lots is mentioned there eight times, and one of them refers to the selection of an apostle to replace Judas (Acts 1:26). So if we have frequent favorable references to lot-casting across both Old and New Testaments, do we have a “biblical pattern”? Should we be casting lots in our churches rather than voting? After all, the Bible contains no direct command to vote on anything (some might argue that voting is the brainchild of humanistic philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau and his ilk).

Read Part 1, Part 2.

Read Part 1.

Enter the Imagination

Picture yourself exiting a train that you boarded miles ago by mistake. You’re not sure where the train was going, so you don’t know what station you are in now. You only know that you are in a large city. The sign in the depot informs you that no other train will leave for days. You decide to rent a car so that you can find food and lodging. As you pull out of the parking garage, however, you discover that you are driving through a blizzard. The air is so full of snow that you can barely see the pavement in front of you. Occasionally a swirl will allow you to glimpse tall buildings or other features of the city. When you get close enough, you can sometimes spot a street sign, but the names are meaningless to you. In the meanwhile, the snow is piling up on the windshield and the glass is fogging over. Before you have driven half-a-mile, you are completely lost. You have no idea how to find your way.

This picture is a metaphor for the human condition. Our world is like the city. It is not merely a random collection of particulars, but an ordered system. If we could perceive the order, we would be in a position to get where we needed to go—assuming that we knew where that was. Our problem is that our senses are so bombarded with events and objects (i.e., with facts) that we are simply overwhelmed by the blizzard. This problem exists at three levels. First, the sheer number of facts is immense. Even a small room comprises more events and objects than we could take cognizance of in a lifetime. Second, our sensory apparatus (by which I mean not only the senses themselves, but our ability to register and relate facts) is limited and easily overwhelmed. It regularly shuts out most of what our senses do actually detect. Third, our ability to register and relate facts is directed, not by a neutral intellect, but by a will that determines in advance to arrange at least some facts in certain ways. In brief, we are caught in a blizzard with snow piling up on the windshield and the glass fogging over.

Somehow, what we need to do is to build up in our minds a map of immanent reality (“the city”) that will allow us to navigate its contours and, eventually, to leave it safely. This map will provide us with an internal image of the city. Such an internal image, if accurate, is capable of directing us even when our vision of the facts is largely obscured.