Category: Religion

Two Assurances of Religion and the Case of the Philosophically Sophisticated Rapist

Karl Britton, Philosophy and the Meaning of Life, Cambridge UP, 1969, p. 192:

Religion tries to provide two great assurances: that there is an absolute good and bad in the world at large, and that the absolute good has power.

I agree that religion does attempt to provide these two great assurances.

Britton KarlThe first assurance might be thought to be  not specifically religious, or at least not theistically-religious. There might be — it is epistemically possible that there are — objective and absolute moral distinctions without God.  I hope we can agree that the wanton slaughter of human beings for one's sexual gratification is absolutely wrong: wrong always and everywhere and in every possible circumstance in which there are human beings. Take that as an example of an objectively true moral proposition. Think of propositions in a Platonic or quasi-Platonic sort of way, as subsisting independently of minds, including God's mind if a divine mind there be, and thus as belonging to a realm unto themselves apart from the realm of space, time and matter. It might then be thought that the indicative proposition just stated suffices to ground the imperative, "Thou shalt not wantonly slaughter, etc."

Is there a Platonic realm of agential oughts and ought-nots that subsist independently of mind and matter and that suffice to make it morally impermissible to, say, rape and murder for pleasure and morally obligatory to, say, feed and care for one's children?  And all of this without a foundation in a divine intellect and will?

Perhaps; I can't prove the opposite.  My metaphysical hunch, however, is that such Platonic moral propositions, and not just moral propositions,  cannot 'hang in the air': they need support in a mind. That's my hunch, and I can articulate it rigorously in argumentative form. No argument in metaphysics in support of a substantive proposition, however, no matter how rigorously deployed, is rationally compelling. So none of my arguments will be rationally compelling. I can render my hunch reasonable, but I cannot force you to accept it on pain of your being taxed with irrationality should you not accept it.

Nevertheless,  I say we need God to ground the existence of moral absolutes. Britton says as much when he says that the absolute good has power.  For if the absolute good has power, then the absolute good is God.

Suppose you disagree.  Free-floating Platonica suffice, you say. It is enough that there subsist in Plato's topos ouranos an entire system of such propositions as Wanton slaughter of innocents for sexual gratification is wrong and Caring for one's offspring is morally obligatory.   The latter prescribes an ought-to-do, a moral must.  Who enforces it? If no one does, then it is an entirely impotent ought.  If we mortals sometimes enforce it, then the ought is not wholly impotent: we provide the power to enforce the moral imperatives that follow from moral declaratives.

Could a moral ought be wholly powerless?  Could it be true that one ought to X and oufht to refrain from Y even if there are no consequences in the realm of fact when the prescriptions and proscriptions are violated?  Could the Ideal and the Real, the Normative and the Factual subsist in such separation? Could Being be so bifurcated?

Would the moral law be the moral law were it never enforced? Enforcement is the bringing to bear of the Ideal upon the Real.

Consider the case of a philosophically sophisticated rapist. It is his pleasure to hunt women and have his way with them. He finds one in an isolated place where she cannot summon help. She pleads and protests: Rape is wrong! He admits that it is wrong.  He gives a little speech:

Yes, it is true, absolutely true, that rape is objectively morally wrong. It is wrong in Plato's heaven, but here we are on earth where there is nothing to prevent me from raping you. I am strong and you are weak.  I can and will satisfy my raging desire.  I have no reason not to. For my raping you will entail no negative consequences for me. I will make sure of that by strangling you while I rape you.  The dead tell no tales.  I will not offer the pseudo-justification that might makes right, that what I am about to do to you is morally permissible because I have the power to do it.   A right that might makes is no right at all. Might cannot make right. 'Might makes right' is eliminativism about right, not an identification of its essence. No such Thrasymachean sophistry for me. What I am about to do to you is not right, but wrong.  But the wrongness of the deeds I am about to do has no relevance  to what actually happens in this material world of fact where we find ourselves. It is a wrongness that subsists in Plato's heaven, but not here in the sublunary. The wrongness is neither here nor there. 

Why should I care that rape and murder are wrong? I am not saying that they are not wrong; I am admitting that they are. I am saying that it doesn't matter in the real world.  Why should I act morally in circumstances in which there are no negative consequences for me if I act immorally?  Will you tell me that I must act morally because it is the morally right thing to do?  That I ought to do right because it is right?  Why? There is no God and no post-mortem regard or punishment.  There is no enforcer of the right and there will be no one upon whom to enforce it.  I grant you your Platonic moral absolutes, but they hang in the air, and in a tw0-fold sense: no God supports them in their existence, and no God enforces them in the phenomenal order.  My final happiness does not depend on doing the morally right thing in those circumstances in which I can get away with doing the wrong thereby satisfying my lust for power, pleasure, and domination. Now take off your clothes!

My view is that something like God is necessary both to explain the existence of the Platonic moral absolutes and their relevance to our animal life here below.  We need God both as support and as enforcer.  Being is One. It is not so bifurcated that the Ideal and the Real are poles apart without communication. God bridges the gap and mediates the opposites.  He brings about the mutual adjustment of virtue and happiness, to borrow a Kantian formulation. But why do we need God to do this job?  Because we cannot do it all by ourselves. A truly just adjustment of virtue and happiness cannot occur for most in this life.

If the absolute good does not have (absolute) power, then the absolute good is 'neither here nor there' in both senses of this phrase.

Too Late by Five Months! Remembering Robert C. Coburn

This morning I happened to re-read the chapter "Metaphysical Theology and the Life of Faith" in Robert C. Coburn's, The Strangeness of the Ordinary (Rowman and Littlefield, 1990). I first read it in May of 1997.  I was so impressed with it this second time around that I resolved to send Professor Coburn a note of appreciation. But I logged on only to find his obituary. I reproduce it below the fold to save it from the folly and poor judgment of librarians and webmasters.  Too late by five months!

Permalinks ought to be permanent, or at least approximate unto the sublunary 'permanence' of that which, under the aspect of eternity, is impermanent. 

And it testifies to the poor judgment of librarians that my copy of Coburn's book is a library discard. I was going to tell Coburn that story and praise him for his flawless prose that displays the erudition of a technical philosopher wedded to the deep humanity of a serious truth seeker.  As academic philosophy succumbs to leftist infestation, and the humanities dissolve into politically correct nonsense, people of Coburn's depth and breadth of learning are unlikely to be replaced.

Note to Vito C.: you will profit from reading the chapter in question. See if you can find the book in a library. You can access a copy of the chapter's article precursor online, but the fee is ridiculous. If you want, I will send you a photocopy, gratis, if you send me by e-mail your preferred mailing address.

Continue reading “Too Late by Five Months! Remembering Robert C. Coburn”

Does Everyone Have a Religion? Even Atheists?

Andrew Sullivan opines,

Everyone has a religion. It is, in fact, impossible not to have a religion if you are a human being. [. . .]

By religion, I mean something quite specific: a practice not a theory; a way of life that gives meaning, a meaning that cannot really be defended without recourse to some transcendent value, undying “Truth” or God (or gods).

Which is to say, even today’s atheists are expressing an attenuated form of religion.

Sully is not being specific enough. Consider Communist ideology. It is a practice, not just a theory. It is a way of life that gives meaning. It appeals to values that transcend the current situation such as the value of a classless society free of exploitation and alienation, a society with no need of the illusory consolations of religion, a society in which that opiate will not be needed because each will realize himself to the fullest in the here and now. Pie here below will obviate the hankering for pie in the sky. It is easy to see how so many millions in the 20th century could be recruited to the Communist cause. 

On Sully's definition, godless communism is a religion that rejects religion, which is to say: it is not a religion on any appropriate understanding of that term. Sully's definition is not specific enough, sullied as it is by being too broad.

Sullivan ought to say something sensible. I suggest the following. Human beings have very strong worldview needs.  Doxastic security needs, I call them. It is impossible not to have some worldview or other, tacit or explicit, unexamined or examined, uncritically imbibed from one's social environment or worked out for oneself. No human being lives, or can live, adoxastos, without beliefs, and in particular without action-guiding beliefs, beliefs that direct, as well as overarching beliefs that orient us in the scheme of things. Not even the Pyrrhonian can pull it off.

Now, in the genus worldview, distinguish two species: religious and non-religious.  Communism, being militantly atheistic and anti-religious, is a non-religious worldview. By contrast, Catholicism is a religious worldview.

At this point you ought to ask me for the specific difference.  If rationality is what distinguishes human from non-human animals,  what property or set of properties distinguishes religious from non-religious worldviews?  My answer in The Essence of Religion.

No good purpose is served by calling atheism a religion. It is a cheap piece of journalistic sloppiness too often maintained, too infrequently reflected upon.

Could All Paths be Dead Ends?

I wrote:

Reason in the end must confess its own infirmity.  It cannot deliver on its promises. The truth-seeker must explore other avenues.  Religion is one, mysticism is another. 

Vito Caiati responds:

My concern is as follows: While I agree that “reason in the end must confess its own infirmity,” I am troubled by the possibility that religion and mysticism terminate, for many, in their own dead ends. Regarding religious belief, too many sincere seekers, perhaps those not blessed with a religious disposition, the apparent gift of a minority of humanity, end up concluding, to quote Pascal, that  “[J]e suis fait d'une telle sorte que je ne puis croire” (“I am so made that I cannot believe”; Pensées Le livre de Poche, 1991, 464). I realize that there are a variety of theological responses to this declaration, including the debilitating effects of original sin on the human soul and mind, but these attempts merely explain away or rationalize what is for many a painful reality. As for mysticism, its truths, real or supposed, are enjoyed, as you know, by a very tiny fraction of humanity, East and West. 

Given these states of affairs, is it not possible that many (most?) of us are trapped in our ignorance of higher things? That none of the three ways—reason, religion, or mysticism—is a viable alternative? That our fate is tragic and miserable?

I hope that the answer to each of these questions is a negative one, for I continue to search for a way forward.

In The Infirmity of Reason versus the Certitude of Faith, I list the following options, omitting mysticism:

John Bishop (University of Auckland) has a book , Believing by Faith: An Essay in the Epistemology and Ethics of Religious Faith (OUP, 2007) which is perhaps the best book that I have read on the subject.  He argues for what he calls a ‘supra-evidential fideism’ in which  one is ‘morally entitled’ to “take as true in one’s practical and theoretical deliberations” a claim that lacks  evidence sufficient for  epistemically-justified acceptance or rejection.

It is a developed Jamesian’ approach to the right to believe. He does not allow for beliefs that go contrary to the weight of evidence, thus he rejects Wittgensteinian fideism. One may believe beyond the evidence, but not against the evidence. He holds that one must always respect the canons of rational inquiry and not dismiss them, even in matters of faith. Yet, by the very nature of the faith-issue, they can be transcended with moral entitlement.

Nor does he allow for ‘induced willings-to believe.’  He holds that one who already has an inclination / disposition to believe is morally entitled to do so if the issue is important, forced, and by the nature of the issue cannot be decided upon the basis of ‘rationalist empiricist’ evidential practice.I came across  the book on a list of important books in philosophy of religion on Prosblogion.

I think that it is a type of fideism that combines your categories B and D – fideism and reasoned faith.

Adoro te devote, latens Deitas, Quæ sub his figuris vere latitas;
Tibi se cor meum totum subjicit, Quia te contemplans totum deficit.

Godhead here in hiding, whom I do adore, Masked by these bare shadows, shape and nothing more, See, Lord, at Thy service low lies here a heart Lost, all lost in wonder at the God thou art.

(tr. Gerard Manley Hopkins.)

But as religion becomes established in the world in the form of churches, sects, and denominations with worldly interests, it becomes less  of a quest and more of a worldly hustle. Dogmatics displaces inquiry, and fund-raising faith. The once alive becomes ossified.  All human institutions are corruptible, and are eventually corrupted.

Mature religion must be more quest than conclusions. It is vastly more a seeking than a finding. More a cleansing of windows and a polishing  of mirrors than a glimpsing. And certainly more a glimpsing than a comfortable resting upon dogmas. When philosophy and religion and mysticism and science are viewed as quests they complement one another. And this despite the tensions among Athens, Jerusalem, Benares, and Alexandria.

The critic of religion wants to pin it down, reducing it to dogmatic contents, so as to attack it where it is weakest. Paradoxically, the atheist 'knows' more about God than the sophisticated theist — he knows so much that he knows no such thing could exist. He 'knows' the divine nature and knows that it is incompatible with the existence of evil — to mention one line of attack.  What he 'knows,' of course, is only the concept he himself has fabricated and projected.  Aquinas, by contrast, held that the existence of God is far better known than God's nature — which remains shrouded in a cloud of unknowing.

The (immature) religionist also wants religion pinned down and dogmatically spelled out for purposes of self-definition, doxastic security, other-exclusion, worldly promotion, and political leverage. This is a reason why reformers like Jesus are met with a cold shoulder — or worse. 

From Religion to Philosophy: A Typology of Motives for Making the Move

People come to philosophy from various 'places.'  Some come from religion, others from mathematics and the natural sciences, still others from literature and the arts.  There are other termini a quis as well.  In this post I am concerned only with the move from religion to philosophy.  What are the main types of reasons for those who are concerned with religion to take up the serious study of philosophy?  I count five main types of motive.

Read the whole thing at Maverick Philosopher: Strictly Philosophical.

Ancora Una Volta: “Reasoned Mysterianism”

Dr. Vito Caiati writes (minor edits, formatting, and bolding added),

I thank you for your online response (Reasoned Mysterianism: A Defense of an Aphoristic Provocation) to my recent email.  In it you offer an impressive, rigorous defense of “reasoned mysterianism” that has impelled me to think more deeply on this subject, so much so, in fact, that I spent part of the night awake in bed ruminating over your argument.  Both it and your aphorism of July 21 (The Believing Philosopher) lead me to repeat what I wrote in my first email to you last February: “You have helped me sharpen and deepen by thinking on many questions, and you have made me more assured in turning away from easy or comforting answers.”

In this spirit, I will take up the invitation made in your email of yesterday and respond.  In doing so, I would like to draw a clearer distinction between a “reasoned belief” and a “reasoned mysterianism” by referring to your statement,

Vito mentions the leap of faith. As I see it, there is no avoiding such a leap when it comes to ultimate questions. There is no possibility of proof or demonstration hereabouts.  One can neither prove nor disprove the existence of God, for example. So if, on the basis of arguments for or against the existence of God, one comes to believe in God or not, there will be a leap of faith either way.

I fully agree with what you say here because while the affirmations of God’s existence or the existence and immortality of the soul cannot be proven, they can be reasonably held. In holding the former, for example, one gives assent to one or more philosophical arguments or calls on other forms of evidence, while acknowledging the powerful arguments and evidence against this belief. But here, most would agree that we are not dealing with what “to the discursive intellect must appear contradictory”; rather, while the intellectual challenges are so enormous that certainty is beyond our grasp and, as you correctly point out, that a leap of faith is required, we respect the intellectual limitations imposed on us by our “cognitive architecture.”

For me, this is the important point: that we not go beyond these limitations however much we would like to do so.  Therefore, I agree that “reasoning about God and the soul, etc. is precisely reasoning in justification of a leap of faith or else in justification of a leap of disbelief.” In such matters, the absence of “certainty” is no hurdle for me in affirming the existence of God, which I do. 

However, while I grant that “it may well be that there are certain objects and states of affairs and phenomena whose internal possibility we cannot discern due to our irremediable cognitive limitations. [And that] Apparent contradictoriness would then not argue unreality,” I hold that such objects and states of affairs are best left alone.  If the objects and states of affairs of “reasoned belief,” such as God’s existence, remain as open and debated today as they were in the distant past and as cloudy to the human mind, what can we possibly know of those shrouded in absolute mystery and apparent contradiction? Here, it seems mere hubris to make a leap of faith; rather, is it not better to acknowledge the mystery and grasp what aspects of the Unknown, albeit small, that reasoned belief permits?  Why not be content with the latter and leave the rest to God, who, after all, either intended or permits our having a constrained “cognitive architecture”?  

The misery of our ignorance, perhaps the greatest evil, is not to be undone by mere conjecture and hope, however well intended. Thus, while I agree that we must choose, I think that the possible choices are quite circumscribed. 

REPLY

I will begin on a note of deep agreement: the misery of our ignorance is indeed a great, and perhaps the greatest, evil. It surprises me that this is not usually mentioned when people recount the evils of the human predicament. Surely it is awful that we are almost totally in the dark about the ultimate whence, whither, and wherefore, and that bitter controversy rages on every side.  To my mind the human condition is indeed a predicament, a 'situation' deeply unsatisfactory, the solution to which is either impossible or, if possible, then such as to require a radical revision of the way we live.

Now on to the meat of our disagreement. 

For most of my philosophical life I have held the position sketched by Vito Caiati according to which only what we can see to be rationally acceptable may be accepted.   So if, by my best efforts, I cannot bring myself to see how a religious dogma satisfies the exigencies of reason, then I ought not accept it.

But lately I have been re-examining this position. Such re-examination is in the spirit of philosophy as critical reflection that spares nothing, not even itself. There is nothing unphilosophical in questioning the reach of reason.*  Note that this questioning remains within philosophy: from within philosophy one can question philosophy and raise the possibility that philosophy can be and perhaps must be supplemented ab extra. 

One type of supplementation is via divine revelation.  Now philosophy cannot prove the fact of divine revelation, nor can it validate the specific contents of a putative revelation, but it can reasonably allow for the possibility of divine revelation. Without quitting the sphere of immanence it can allow for the possibility of an irruption into this sphere of salvific truths that we need but cannot access by our own powers.

Vito will grant me that it is reasonable to believe that God exists.  If so, it is reasonable to believe that there is a transcendent Person capable of revealing himself to man.  I would argue that the possibility of revelation is built into the concept of God.  Our concept of God is a concept of a personal being who could, if he so desired, reveal himself to his creatures in specific ways, via prophets who leave written records, or even by revealing himself in person in a special man who somehow is an, or rather the, incarnation of God.  Our possession of such a concept of God is of course no guarantee that there is such a God.   But without straying from the precincts of philosophy one can articulate such a concept.

This implies that it is reasonable to be open to the possibility of receiving 'information' of the highest importance to us and our ultimate well-being from a transcendent Source lying beyond the human horizon. This possibility is one that we can validate from within our own resources and thus without appeal to divine revelation.

One who grants the existence of a personal God cannot foreclose on the possibility of the receipt of such 'information.' To foreclose on it one would have to adopt some form of naturalism or else a non-personal conception of God.  Spinoza's deus sive natura, for example, is clearly not up to the task of transmitting any saving truths to us.

Now suppose some of these bits of 'information' or revealed truths are beyond our ken not only in the sense that we cannot validate them as true from within our immanence, but also in the sense  that we cannot validate them as possibly true. That is, we can generate no insight into their logical possibility. Suppose they appear, and indeed must appear, logically impossible to us within our present (fallen) state.  The idea is not that they are logically impossible in themselves, but that they must appear logically impossible to us due to our current 'cognitive architecture.'

Supposing all this, would it be reasonable to take Vito's advice and leave these putative truths of revelation alone, on the ground that it would be hubris to make a leap of faith in their direction when, by our own best lights, and after protracted examination, they appear logically impossible?

It is not clear to me that it would.  For then the measly creature would be valuing his intellectual integrity over the possibility of an eternity of bliss.

There might well be more hubris is setting up ourselves as arbiters as to what is possible and what is not. Weak-minded as we are, who are we to judge what is possible and what is not? If God exists, then we are his creatures. We are in the inferior position and ought to listen to God's teachings and commands whether or not they pass muster by our criteria, and especially since our ultimate happiness is at stake. 

If we really understand what is meant by 'God,' and we believe that God exists — which I admit itself requires a leap beyond what we can legitimately claim strictly to know — then how can we insist that God, his actions, his commands, and his revelations satisfy the exigencies of our puny intellects in order to be admissible?

There is much more to be said, but I have gone on long enough for one post. 

________________

* Think of the academic and the Pyrrhonian skeptics, the empiricists, the critical philosophy of Kant, phenomenology with its anti-dialectical orientation and invocation of the given, logical positivism, and the ordinary language philosophy of the later Wittgenstein.

A Reasoned Mysterianism? Defense of an Aphoristic Provocation

 This just in from Dr. Vito Caiati:

I write because I am confused about yesterday’s short post The Believing Philosopher, in which you state, “The religious belief of a believing philosopher is a reasoned belief, and even if his belief extends to the acceptance of mysteries that to the discursive intellect must appear contradictory, his is a reasoned mysterianism.” I understand and fully assent to the first clause regarding “reasoned belief,” but I am struggling to grasp the meaning of the concluding clause regarding “a reasoned mysterianism.” 

Specifically, I am troubled by the notion of “a reasoned mysterianism” in cases where “believing philosophers” affirm a mystery “that to the discursive intellect must appear contradictory,” when such a mystery depends on the acceptance of one or more other such mysteries. For example, take the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation or the non-scholastic, Orthodox doctrine of the true and real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Now in either case, “believing philosophers” who adhere to traditional Christian belief uphold that what appears, smells, feels, and tastes like bread or wine is, in fact, the actual body and blood of Christ. That the human senses completely contradict this belief is a contradictory datum the existence of which is reconciled through the notion of “mystery.” But this mystery requires a prior assent to yet other mysteries, such as those which affirm (1) the supernatural power of Jesus at the Last Supper to transform common foodstuffs into his body and blood; (2) the transfer of this power to the Apostles, mere human beings; (3) and its subsequent transfer to the myriad of bishops of ancient, medieval, early modern, and modern times, who have in turn (4) passed it onto an even greater number of priests. All of this, of course, requires belief in (5) the Incarnation, the appearance on Earth of the Second Person of the Trinity as one of Jesus’ two natures, but as you have so often eloquently argued, that Christian doctrine is certainly one that baffles the discursive intellect. An acceptance to this mystery requires, in turn, an accent [assent] to (6) the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, with all the logical knots that come with it. We have here a very long chain of mystery.

This is all very schematic and rough, but when I think of how hard it is to affirm theism alone with any sort of confidence, given the powerful evidence and arguments against this belief, I am at a loss to see how a believing philosopher who affirms anything like traditional Christian faith does so because of a “reasoned mysterianism.”  I may well be wrong, but I see so much mystery that reason, at best, justifies what is in fact a leap of faith.  On what epistemological foundation does “reasoned mysterianism” stand? Religious experience?  Revelation?  I do not necessarily deny either of these sources of knowledge, but as you so well know, they are highly problematical and controversial. 

As you can see, I am confused by all this. My befuddlement may well simply stem from my entirely amateur status in these matters, but I wanted to raise the issue with you in any case. If what I have to say is not worthy of comment, simply ignore it.

An aphorism, to be such, must be brief, and cannot supply reasons on its own behalf. One of its purposes is to stimulate thought in the reader. I see that my aphorism has done just that. While an aphorism cannot come armed with reasons, on pain of ceasing to be an aphorism, a good aphorism has reasons behind it.  A good aphorism is like the tip of an iceberg with the tip being the aphorism itself and the iceberg being the mass of supporting reasons and considerations. I will now try to explain what I mean by "reasoned mysterianism."

But first I want to register my agreement with Vito's insightful assertion that acceptance of a particular mystery often rests on a prior acceptance of other mysteries. To telescope his extended example, acceptance of the Incarnation presupposes a prior acceptance of the Trinity.  Vito and I also seem to agree that these doctrines (in their orthodox formulations) are an affront to the discursive intellect.  I mean that they appear to the discursive intellect as logically contradictory either in themselves or in their implications. Now I have discussed this in detail elsewhere, but perhaps a quick rehearsal is in order.  Here is a little argument that will appeal to a unitarian theist like my friend Dale Tuggy. 

a. The Second Person of the Trinity and the man Jesus differ property-wise. 
b.  Necessarily, for any x, y, if x, y differ property-wise, i.e., differ in respect of even one property, then x, y are numerically different, i.e., not numerically identical.  (Indiscernibility of Identicals)
Therefore
c. The Second Person of the Trinity and Jesus are not numerically identical, i.e., are not one and the same.

Let's focus just on this little argument.  The argument is clearly valid in point of logical form: the conclusion follows from the premises.  And the premises are true.  (a) is true as a matter of orthodox — miniscule 'o' — Christian teaching.  (b) is the Indiscernibility of Identicals, a principle whose intellectual luminosity is as great as any.  But the conclusion contradicts orthodox Christian teaching according to which God, or rather the Second Person of the Trinity, became man, i.e., became identical to a flesh and blood man with a body and a soul, in Jesus of Nazareth at a particular time in an obscure outpost of the Roman empire.

Some will conclude that the Incarnation is logically impossible.  Others will insist that if we make the right distinctions we can evade arguments like the above.  My considered opinion is that these evasive maneuvers do not work. I can't go into this now.  One thing is clear: it remains a matter of controversy whether orthodox Chalcedonian incarnationalism is logically possible.  And similarly, mutatis mutandis, for the orthodox Trinitarian doctrine.

A. One view, then, is that these doctrines are logically impossible, not just for us but in themselves, and therefore cannot be true.  And if they cannot be true, and we see that they cannot be true, then we ought not, on an adequate ethics of belief, accept them, which is to say: we are morally required to reject them.

B. A second view is that the doctrines in question are logically possible and can be seen to be such if we are careful in our use of terms and make all the right distinctions.  The doctrines would then be rationally acceptable in the sense that they would satisfy the canons of the discursive intellect.  

C. A third view is the dialetheist one according to which there are true contradictions.  I mention this only for the sake of classificatory completeness.

D. A fourth view is mysterianism. The theological doctrines in question are logically possible, and indeed true, in themselves and this despite the fact that they appear to us in our present state as contradictory, or even must appear to us in our present state as contradictory. On mysterianism, our cognitive architecture is such as to disallow any insight into how the doctrines in questions are logically possible.

Theological mysterianism  has an analog in the philosophy of mind.  Many today are convinced naturalists. It seems evident to them that there is but one world, this physical world, and that we are wholly physical parts of it.  Our consciousness life in all its richness is rooted in brain activity and impossible without it.  

Now take the naturalist conviction and conjoin it to the intellectually honest admission that we have no idea at all how it is so much as possible for a wholly material being to think and enjoy conscious states.  The conjunction of the Conviction and the Admission generates a mysterian position according to which one affirms as true a proposition that one cannot understand as possibly true, a proposition that for us is and most likely will remain unintelligible, namely, the proposition that we are wholly material beings susceptible of exhaustive natural-scientific explanation who nonetheless think, feel, love, make moral demands, feel subject to them, etc.

This mysterianism is an epistemological position  according to which our contingent but unalterable make-up makes it impossible for us ever to understand how it is possible for us to think and be conscious.  The claim is not that thought and consciousness are mysterious because they are non-natural phenomena; the claim is that they are wholly natural but not understandable by us.  Our cognitive architecture (a phrase I believe Colin McGinn employs) blocks our epistemic access to those properties the understanding of which would render intelligible to us how we can be both wholly material and yet the  subjects of intentional and non-intentional mental states.

Mysterianism as a general strategy rests on a fairly solid foundation.  First of all, it is a self-evident modal axiom that actuality entails possiblity.  It is also self-evident that if x is possible, then it does not follow that we are in a position to understand how x is possible.  So it may well be that there are certain objects and states of affairs and phenomena whose internal possibility we cannot discern due to our irremediable cognitive limitations.  Apparent contradictoriness would then not argue unreality.

And so the apparent contradictoriness of Trinity and Incarnation would not argue their impossibility and unreality.

When I speak of "reasoned mysterianism" I am not just employing an oxymoron for literary effect, the way Nietzsche does in his brilliant aphorism, "Some men are born posthumously."   I am suggesting that the mysterianism I have just sketched can be reasoned to, and rationally supported.  Mysterianism is a position that can be reasonably held.  The idea is that it can be reasonably held that there are true propositions the internal possibility of which our finite discursive reason cannot discern and which must appear to us in our present state as internally impossible. It is not irrational to point out the limits of reason. It would be irrational not to. 

Vito mentions the leap of faith. As I see it, there is no avoiding such a leap when it comes to ultimate questions. There is no possibility of proof or demonstration hereabouts.  One can neither prove nor disprove the existence of God, for example. So if, on the basis of arguments for or against the existence of God, one comes to believe in God or not, there will be a leap of faith either way.  Of course, I do not claim that what I just asserted can be proven; but I do claim that I can plausibly support these convictions with good reasons.  A reason can be good without being rationally compelling.

It seems to me that reasoning about God and the soul, etc. is precisely reasoning in justification of a leap of faith or else in justification of a leap of disbelief.

As for religious experiences, they prove nothing. (Indeed, not even mundane  sense experiences prove the existence of their intentional objects. My current visual experiencings of — or AS OF in the patois of the truly persnickety philosopher — books and papers and the trees and mountains outside my study window do not prove the extramental reality of any of these things.)

But evidence needn't get the length of proof to count as evidence.

As for divine revelation, the problem is how to distinguish a putative revelation from a genuine one.  I worry this bone with the help of Josiah Royce in Josiah Royce and the Religious Paradox.

Perhaps what Vito wants is certainty. But the only certainty worth wanting is objective, not subjective, and it cannot be had here below.  In this life there is no rest, only road.  The destination, fog enshouded, remains in doubt, though glimpsed now and again.  Lucubration  must come to an end and one has to decide, each for himself, what one will believe and how one will live.

On Opposing a Dangerous Ideology that is also a Religion

This article by William Kilpatrick bears on my ongoing conversation with a Canadian philosopher about Islam, religious tests, and constitutional interpretation. Last exchange here.  I'll pull a few quotations from Professor Kilpatrick and add some comments.

The idea of opposing dangerous ideologies is not foreign to Americans, but the idea of opposing an ideology that is also a religion is more problematic. It has become increasingly problematic now that we live in an era in which merely disagreeing with another’s opinions is tantamount to a hate crime.

But obviously, to dissent from a proposition is not to hate a person.  Nor is dissent on the part of the dissenter a sign of mental malfunction. Liberals who would smear Kilpatrick by calling him an 'Islamophobe' are either ignorant or vicious. Ignorant, if they do not understand that a phobia is an irrational fear. Vicious, if they mean to silence such a truth-teller by questioning his sanity.

The U.S. Constitution in the first and second clauses of its First Amendment guarantees freedom of religion. But does Islam fall under this protection? Ought there be freedom of religion for a religion that seeks to eliminate every other religion? Obviously not. The Constitition is not a suicide pact. I argue this out in painful detail in my last exchange with the Canadian.

I don't deny that Islam is a religion. It may even be a way to God for some who know of no better Way. (The allusion is to via, veritas, vita.)But Islam is just as much, if not more, a political ideology that seeks to subvert the principles and values of the American founding. Let us note en passant that this explains what would otherwise be very hard to explain, namely, why the Left is in cahoots with Islam. For the Left too is out to subvert said principles and values. Islamists must view leftists as useful idiots who will be sent packing to the realm of the black-eyed virgins should the former gain the (knife-wielding) upper hand. Leftists are in for a surprise if they think that they can use Islamists for leftist purposes.

I feel a rant coming on, so back to the sober Irishman:

Under Pope Benedict XVI there were signs—such as his Regensburg Address—that the Church was developing a more realistic view of Islam. But whatever ground was gained by Benedict was given up by Francis. Indeed, it seems fair to say that under Francis, the Church’s understanding of Islam regressed. Perhaps the most glaring example of this regression can be found in the Pope’s assertion that “authentic Islam and a proper reading of the Koran are opposed to every form of violence.” It’s hard to imagine any of his predecessors or any of their advisors making a similar claim.

Holy moly! Could Bergoglio the Boneheaded be that benighted?  Yes, take a gander at this:

By contrast, Church leaders and Pope Francis in particular, have become, in effect, enablers of Islam. Pope Francis has denied that Islam sanctions violence, has drawn a moral equivalence between Islam and Catholicism (“If I speak of Islamic violence, I must speak of Catholic violence”), and has campaigned for the admittance of millions of Muslim migrants into Europe. Moreover, he has criticized those who oppose his open borders policy as hard-hearted xenophobes. In return for his efforts, he has been publicly thanked by several Muslim leaders for his “defense of Islam.”

One might be tempted to use the word “collaborator” instead of “enabler.” But collaborator is too strong a word. In its World War II context, it implies a knowing consent to and cooperation with an evil enterprise. It seems clear to me that the pope and others in the hierarchy are enabling the spread of an evil ideology; however, it’s not at all clear that they understand what they’re doing. Francis, for instance, seems to sincerely believe that all religions are roughly equal in goodness. Thus for him, the spread of any religion must seem like a good thing. It’s an exceedingly naïve view, but one that seems honestly held.

Related: Pope Benedict's Regensburg Speech and Muslim Oversensitivity

Could a Theist Maintain that Some Lack a Religious Disposition?

Suppose you believe that man has been created in the image and likeness of God.  Could you, consistently with that belief, hold that only some possess a religious disposition?

I have discussed this before, but the question came up again in an e-mail from a reader.

I often say things like the following:

The religious person perceives our present  life, or our natural life, as radically deficient, deficient from the root (radix) up, as fundamentally unsatisfactory and unameliorable by unaided human effort whether individual or collective; he feels it to be, not a mere condition, but a predicament; it strikes him as vain or empty if taken as an end in itself; he sees himself as homo viator, as a wayfarer or pilgrim treading a via dolorosa through a vale of tears that cannot possibly be a final and fitting resting place but is instead a place of probation and a vale of soul-making; he senses or glimpses from time to time the possibility of a Higher Life; he feels himself in danger of missing out on this Higher Life of true happiness.  He feels his fellows to be fools endlessly distracted by bagatelles, sunken deep in Pascalian divertissement, as Platonic troglodytes unaware of the Cave as Cave.

I maintain that one in whom the above doesn't strike a chord, or sound a plaintive arpeggio, is one who lacks a religious disposition.  In some the disposition is simply lacking, and it cannot be helped.  I 'write them off' no matter how analytically sharp they are.   One cannot discuss religion with them, for it cannot be real to them, any more than one can share one's delight in poetry with the terminally prosaic, or one's pleasure in mathematics with the mathematically anxious.  For those who lack the disposition, religion is not what William James in "The Will to Believe" calls a "living option," let alone a "forced" or "momentous" one. It can only be something strained and ridiculous, a tissue of fairy tales, something for children and old ladies, an opiate for the weak and dispossessed, a miserable anthropomorphic projection, albeit unconscious, a wish-fulfillment, something cooked up in the musty medieval cellars of priest-craft where unscrupulous manipulators exploit human gullibility for their own advantage.

A perceptive interlocutor raises an objection that I would put as follows. 

You say that some lack a religious disposition.  I take it you mean that they are utterly bereft of it.  But how is that consistent with the imago dei?  For if we are made in the divine image, then we are spiritual beings who must, as spiritual beings, possess at least the potentiality of communion with the divine source of the spirit within us, even if this potentiality is to no degree actual.  After all, we are not in the image of God as animals, but as spiritual beings, and part of being a spiritual being is having the potentiality to know itself, and thus to know that one is a creature if in fact one is a creature, and in knowing this to know God in some measure.

How might I meet this objection? 

One way is by denying that all biologically human beings bear the divine image, or bear the divine image in its fullness.  Maybe it is like this.  The existence of specimens of the zoological species to which we belong is accounted for by the theory of evolution.  God creates the physical universe in which evolution occurs, and in which human animals evolve from lower forms.  The story of Adam and Eve in Genesis is not an account of how human animals came to be that is in competition with the theory of evolution.  It is not about human animals at all.

Adam is not the first man; there was no first man.  Eve is not the first woman; there was no first woman.  Adam and Eve are not the first human animals; they are the first human animals that, without ceasing to be animals, became spiritual beings when God bestowed upon them personhood, which involves self-consciousness, free will, and moral sense, but also the sense of the divine and a call to a higher life.  But the free divine bestowal was not the same for all: from some he withheld the sensus divinitatis and with it the power to know God and become godlike.

I know that this is not theologically orthodox.  But it fits with my experience.  I have always felt that some human beings lack depth or spirit or soul or inwardness or interiority or whatever you want to call it.  It is not that I think of them as zombies as philosophers use this term: I grant that they are conscious and self-conscious.  But I sense that there is nothing to them beyond that.  There is no sense of the Higher. They sense no call to the task of self-individuation.  There is no depth-dimension: they are surface all the way down. They are bereft of spirit. They may have moral sense, but it doesn't point them beyond this life. They may have conscience but it is only a product of acculturation and not a source of spiritual insight. They are human biologically but not normatively: there is a sense in which, ringing a change on Nietzsche, the death of God is by the same stroke the death of man: he suffers demotion and is after God's death back among the animals and in series with them, just the cleverest of the land mammals.

So the first conjecture is that not all human animals, even if biologically normal, are spiritual beings.

But it may be that a better line for me is the simpler one of saying that in all there is the religious disposition, but in some it is  undeveloped or unmanifested, rather than saying that in some it is not present at all. (A disposition need not be manifested to exist; glass is disposed to shatter if suitably struck, but a particular piece of glass needn't shatter to possess (actually not potentially!) the disposition to shatter.)

The "perceptive interlocutor" (Steven Nemes) mentioned above responds (and these are his actual words):

To suppose that some persons lack the religious disposition is certainly not theologically kosher, at least not from the Christian perspective. This is more akin to certain varieties of predestinarian gnosticism to which early Christian theologians (e.g., Origen, Irenaeus, et al.) vehemently objected. These gnostic theories proposed that there were various different classes of human persons, some of whom were structurally determined to realize saving knowledge (gnosis) of Reality whereas others were cruder, baser, and doomed to live unenlightened lives in the body. The difference between classes was not choices they had made or anything of the sort; it was simply their ontological structure to reach enlightenment or not. The early Christians objected to this in two ways: first, it is denial of the freedom of the will of the human person, since some evidently are intrinsically incapable of choosing salvation; second, it is incompatible with God's goodness, since if he is good, he desires the salvation of all and works to accomplish it.
 
I don't disagree that these are  among the theologically orthodox responses to my suggestion above.  How good they are, however, is a separate question.  First, if God does not grant to some class of persons the religious disposition, that is not a denial to them of freedom of the will.  They can be as free as you please; they just lack that particular power, the power of achieving salvific knowledge.  I am not free to fly like a bird, but it doesn't follow that I am not free.
 
As for the second point, there may be a confusion of damnation with non-knowledge of God.  The suggestion above is that only some biologically human persons  are disposed to seek God and possibly know God.  That is not to say that these persons are predestined to a state in which they are conscious of God's existence but cut off from God.
 
God desires the ultimate beatitude of all that have the power to achieve it — but not all have this power on the above suggestion.  If God desires the ultimate beatitude of all whether or not they have the power to know God, then God desires the ultimate beatitude of dolphins and apes and cats and dogs.
I suppose these are the two greatest problems for the quasi-gnostic position you consider above. Another problem would be that it might ethically justify mistreatment and prejudice against persons deemed to lack a religious disposition. After all, if they cannot sense God's existence and enjoy communion with him, how are they any different from animals? If God himself didn't care to make them such that they could know him, why should theists and those having the religious disposition care for them any more than for a dog?
I don't see any problem here either.  Not all human beings have the same powers, but people like me and my interlocutor would not dream of using this fact to justify mistreatment of  certain classes of people.  (Analogy: I don't believe that animals have rights, but I don't need to assign rights to them to have good reason to treat them humanely
 
Interim Conclusion
 
Many if not most people in the West these days fail to manifest a genuine religious disposition.  (Going along to get along by attending services etc. does not attest a genuine disposition.) While it does not follow that they lack such a disposition, absence of manifestation is defeasible evidence of the disposition's nonexistence.  Supposing there is no religious disposition in some, the theist can, consistently with his theism, explain the fact in the unorthodox 'Gnostic' way sketched above.
 
Or the theist can insist that the disposition is present in all, but in some so buried under the detritus of sin and social suggestions as to be indiscernible by the person himself or others.
 
On the other hand, if one is a metaphysical naturalist, the problem dissolves: there is no God and the religious disposition is an evolutionary quirk in some that bespeaks nothing.

More on “No Religious Test”

A Canadian reader comments and I reply:

I've been thinking about the problem of interpreting "no religious test" in light of your post.  It's actually a very difficult problem!  I'm almost convinced the correct response is that, unfortunately, if the Constitution is interpreted correctly then fundamentalist Muslims do indeed have the right to hold public office–given the most natural and reasonable interpretation of word meanings and even taking into account the likely intentions of the founding fathers, the history of legal interpretation, etc.  It's very hard to get around this.  Maybe rather than saying that the Constitution is not a suicide pact on any sane interpretation, we have to say that a sane person would reject both suicide pacts and some parts of the US Constitution.

I grant that it is a very difficult problem, and I am aware that few will be convinced by what I wrote earlier. Ask anybody what Islam is and he will tell you that it is a religion. And then, given that

. . . no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States.(Article VI)

it seems to follow via some uncontroversial auxiliary premises that no Muslim shall be barred from running for office simply because he is a Muslim. 

But of course among those Muslims are those who have no intention of assimilating and accepting our values but instead seek to impose Sharia on us thereby rejecting our values and principles and subverting our system of government.

So the question I would put to my fellow citizens is: Are you comfortable with an interpretation of the Constitution that allows for its elimination and the values and principles it enshrines?

I am not.

There are those who will say: let anyone immigrate from anywhere and then let the people who have immigrated decide what they want. They call that democracy, and they are all for it.  The people are the residents within certain geographical borders, and residency constitutes citizenship. If the residents want blasphemy laws, then we shall have blasphemy laws.  

You point out that Islam is not just a religion but also a political ideology.  But does that really help?  It still is a religion, and if the Constitution forbids any "religious test", without ever saying anything about the scope of "religion", the most natural interpretation is that even religions that double as political ideologies–most religions, really–are subject to the "no religious test" rule.  You say that we could declare Islam an inadmissible religion, but then wouldn't effectively mean that the Constitution is self-contradictory?  On the one hand, there is to be freedom of religion and no religious test–the subject here being surely just religion in general.  On the other hand, only some religions are protected by the "no religious test" rule, and for other religions there can be a religious test after all.  That seems incoherent, no?

Islam is a religion, but not a religion in the sense in which Hinduism, Buddhism Judaism, and Christianity are religions. Will you grant me that? Or must I argue it out?  

There is no contradiction or incoherence such as you imagine. I take it you find no incoherence in what the logic books call exceptive propositions. For example, "All citizens of the United States are guaranteed freedom of religion except those whose religions are incompatible with the values and principles of the American founding." The following propositions are logically consistent. (1) The Constitution guarantees  freedom of religion and disallows religious tests.  (2) The Constitution guarantees these things subject to the proviso that the religion in question is compatible with the principles of the American founding.

Now the Constitution does not contain these formulations.  But we will agree that the document is subject to interpretation. My claim is that it is most reasonable interpreted along the lines I have suggested.

As for incoherence, I should think that your account is more justly charged with it. A constitution that allows for its own subversion is incoherent if not strictly self-contradictory in the logical sense.  The provisions of such a constitution do not cohere with its own continued existence.

Actually I don't know that the idea of a church/state or religion/politics distinction will make sense if we allow that some religions are also political ideologies.  If the two can be separated, wouldn't that mean that the religions that are also political must be either banned or else somehow reformulated so that they're only religious?  Otherwise, the effect would be to prevent the normal or traditional practice of those religions–since normally or by their nature they'd function as political entities.  But then wouldn't that be incompatible with the ideal of freedom of religion?  I don't know.  Just some rambling thoughts.  The issue seems very confusing.  The US Constitution was never meant to apply to this bizarre multicultural situation that's been induced.  

But why on earth would you want the normal or traditional practice of (radical) Islam in the U. S. , Canada, France, the West generally?  I know you don't want that.

The Founders figured something out. They figured out that a modicum of civil peace can be had if government is kept limited in scope and kept separate from religion.

Freedom of religion, like freedom of speech, and like toleration, has limits.  As you know, Islam does not recognize freedom of religion. You either convert, accept dhimmitude, or are put to the sword. It is therefore entirely reasonable to place restrictions on freedom of religion and ban politically subversive religions.

A commitment to freedom of religion becomes incoherent and suicidal when it is taken to imply freedom for all religions including those that reject freedom of religion.  Similarly for freedom of speech and toleration. A sane toleration must be intolerant of the intolerant.

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"No Religious Test"

“No Religious Test”

 In Article VI of the U. S. Constitution we read:

. . . no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States.

Does it follow that the U. S. Constitution should be so interpreted as to allow a Muslim citizen who supports sharia (Islamic law) to run for public office?  No!  For the same Constitution, in its First Amendment, enjoins a salutary separation of church/synagogue/mosque and state, though not in those words.  Sharia and the values and principles enshrined in the founding documents are incompatible.  On no sane interpretation is our great Constitution a suicide pact.

It is important to realize that Islam is as much  an anti-Enlightenment political ideology as it is a religion.  Our Enlightenment founders must be rolling around in their graves at the very suggestion that sharia-subscribing Muslims are eligible for the presidency and other public offices. 

Many assume that no restriction may be placed on admissible religions for the purposes of the implementation  of Article VI.  I deny it. A religion that requires the subverting of the U. S. Constitution is not an admissible religion when it comes to applying the "no religious Test" provision. One could argue that on a sane interpretation of the Constitution, Islam, though a religion, is not an admissible religion where an admissible religion is one that does not contain core doctrines which, if implemented, would subvert the Constitution.

Or one might argue that Islam is not a religion at all.  Damn near anything can and will be called a religion by somebody.  Some say with a straight face that leftism is a religion, others that Communism is a religion.  Neither is a religion on any adequate definition of 'religion.'  I have heard it said that atheism is a religion.  Surely it isn't.  Is a heresy of a genuine religion itself a religion?  Arguably not.  Hillaire Belloc and others have maintained that Islam is a Christian heresy.  Or one could argue that Islam, or perhaps radical Islam,  is not a religion but a totalitarian political ideology masquerading as a religion.  If an X masquerades as a Y, then the X is not a Y. How to define religion is a hotly contested issue in the philosophy of religion. 

The point here is that "religious" in ". . . no religious Test shall ever be required" is subject to interpretation.  We are under no obligation to give it a latitudinarian reading that allows in a destructive ideology incompatible with our values and principles.

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What Should We Call Secular Ideologies like Marxism and Social Justice?

On ‘Spirituality’