Randal Rauser's Blog, page 174

The hack of AshleyMadison.com accompanied by the world’s smallest violin

As you have probably heard, the sleazy-cheat-on–your-significant-other website AshleyMadison.com was hacked recently and the personal data of thirty-seven million cheaters and would-be cheaters (more than the population of Canada!) was leaked online.

Please pause for a moment as we allow Mr. Krabs to share his thoughts.



Mr. Krabs may not be very sympathetic, but Avid Life Media, the owners of the website, were predictably outraged. They denounced the hack as “an act of criminality.”

“It is an illegal action against the individual members of AshleyMadison.com, as well as any freethinking people who choose to engage in fully lawful online activities. The criminal, or criminals, involved in this act have appointed themselves as the moral judge, juror, and executioner, seeing fit to impose a personal notion of virtue on all of society.”

“We will not sit idly by and allow these thieves to force their personal ideology on citizens around the world.”

Well said! Now thump the pulpit a couple times in righteous indignation to drive the point home!

It is true, of course, that the act was criminal. But which is worse? An illegal act or an immoral one?

Close to forty million users. And how many homes destroyed? How many children face years of clinical depression, self-loathing, anguish because of the behaviors of their parents which were facilitated by AshleyMadison.com?

But nobody made the parents cheat, right? True enough. AshleyMadison.com doesn’t hold moral culpability for cheating. But they do hold culpability for, as I said, facilitating and encouraging the act. Moreover, they facilitate and encourage the act for filthy lucre.

(In scenario 1 Dave encourages his buddy Reggie to cheat so that Reggie can enjoy the pleasures thereof. In scenario 2 Dave encourages Reggie to cheat so that Dave can get some money. In both cases Dave is a scoundrel, but he’s certainly worse in scenario 2.)

It is important that we get a sense of how grotesque the website is. So imagine that instead of lingering thoughts of adultery, Mr. Jones is having lingering thoughts of suicide. So he goes to Hereishowtokillyourself.com which promotes itself with the slogan “Life is short. Make it even shorter!” In a moment of weakness, he goes through with the suicide based on the directions and encouragement of the website. Do you think the website has some moral culpability, irrespective of any legal questions?

AshleyMadison.com isn’t encouraging people to kill themselves. But it is encouraging them to kill the covenant of fidelity to which they’ve committed themselves. And it encourages them to act in a wanton, callous, fashion that will damage untold lives.

Some commentators have observed that cheaters will still cheat and this hack won’t change anything. That’s a stupid comment. You remember the isolated, high profile prosecution of a handful of people a decade ago for illegally downloading music at sites like Napster? I know of many people who decided not ever to download any music illegally due simply to the remote possibility of being caught and ending up like those poor saps. Granted, countless people still download all manner of things illegally. But at least some people decided not to do so out of fear and self-interest. In that case, fear and self-interest provided a fitting surrogate for virtue.

What if one person — just one person — decides not to cheat on their spouse because of this hack? In that moment lowly fear and cowardice functioned as a surrogate for covenantal fidelity. And what if this decision in turns brings them back step-by-step to love of and recommitment to that spouse (perhaps in a manner reminiscent of Rupert Holmes’ “Escape: The Pina Colada Song”)?

What an amazing outcome that would be! And the only financial cost is that which is borne by Avid Life Media? Sounds like a bargain to me!

The Myth of the Free Thought Parent

Some years ago while I was delivering a lecture on faith and reason at a secular university, I informed my audience that I had taught the Apostles’ Creed to my daughter, who was four or five at the time. I then noted that as a family we recited the creed every day during our family devotions.

As I expected, the audience appeared to be disturbed by my revelation. One of the students spoke for many when she insisted that children should be raised without “religious dogma”. Instead, they should be free to “make up their own minds” about what to believe. Parents could certainly inform them of the various options, but they should not be partisans for a particular view. Instead, she opined, the conscientious parent should sit back and let their children make their own decisions unencumbered by undue parental influence.

One commonly encounters this ideal of the dispassionate, objective parent in the free thought movement. Consider, for example, this passage from Catie Wilkins’s essay “110 Love Street”:

“My dad, a supremely rational man, even when addressing four-year-olds, answered my question, ‘what happens when you die?’ logically and truthfully. He replied, ‘No one really knows, but we have lots of theories. Some people believe in heaven and hell, some people believe in reincarnation, and some people believe that nothing happens.’ The other four-year-olds were not privy to the open, balanced information that I had, leaving me the only four-year-old to suggest that heaven might not exist.” (“110 Love Street,” in ed. Ariane Sherine, There’s Probably No God: The Atheist’s Guide to Christmas (London: Friday, 2009), 21-22)

Wilkins believed her father’s pedagogical advice provided an empowering and non-dogmatic way to instruct a small child by dispassionately and objectively providing the range of views on a given issue and allowing the child to make her own decision. In short, Wilkins’s father provided a precise contrast with my dogmatizing bequeathal of the Apostles’ Creed to my unwitting progeny.

If Wilkins’s anecdote exemplifies the ideal of the free thought parent, it also exemplifies the inherent tensions , and even contradictions, with this ideal. We can begin to illumine those problems by changing up the scenario. Imagine that instead of posing a question about life after death, the child posed a question about the nature of the good and the right. After overhearing a disturbing murder story on the evening news, the child turns to her father and poses the question: “Daddy, is it always wrong to kill somebody just because you want their money?”

Questions about the good and the right, like questions about the afterlife, are beset with controversy. And so freethought dad gives his non-dogmatic and dispassionate reply in which he offers a survey of opinions so that the child may draw her own conclusions:

“No one really knows, but we have lots of theories. Some people believe it is absolutely wrong because it violates moral virtue or a moral law. But other people believe it could be right if doing so increased the overall happiness in society. Still others believe that each individual must decide what is right for them, and if money makes them happy then they can rightly kill for it.”

I suspect most people will find the father’s response in the second scenario to be problematic (to say the least). But what, exactly, is wrong with it? Let’s consider two problems.

To begin with, the father’s answer is wholly inappropriate for the cognitive level of a four year old. Granted, ethicists disagree over questions like whether it is always wrong to kill somebody for money, but it doesn’t follow that a four year old needs to hear about that entire controversy. At this age they need a simple answer Complexity and nuance can (and should) be acquired over time, but you need a place to begin.

And what kind of simple answer should one give? Presumably, the answer that best approximates what the parent believes to be true adjusted for the cognitive capacity of the child. For example, if the father believes it is wrong to kill people just because you want their money, then that’s the answer: “Yes, it’s wrong to kill people just because you want their money.” (And if he doesn’t believe this, one hopes his daughter’s question might provide an occasion to reconsider his own view.)

The second problem with the response is that it is not nearly as free and uncommitted as one might think. Despite his alleged neutrality as regards the ethical question, the father is surprisingly committed and dogmatic when he prefaces his comment with the proviso, “No one really knows…” This is most certainly not a neutral statement. Instead, it is a robust epistemological claim. In short, while the father may not espouse any particular ethical view, he does commend to his child a strong agnosticism as regards all ethical views on the topic, and as I said that is not neutral.

So why does this freethought dad believe nobody knows the nature of right and wrong? One suspects that his strong agnosticism is based on an assumption like this: if experts disagree on a particular topic, then one cannot know what the right answer is on that topic. Thus, for example, if ethicists disagree about the wrongness of an action like killing for money, then we cannot know if that action is indeed wrong.

Alas, this assumption is self-defeating. While freethought dad’s belief that unanimity is required for belief is an epistemological claim, epistemologists do not all agree with it. Thus, if we accept that assumption then we ought to reject it.

In other words, unanimity among experts is not required before one can hold a reasonable belief, or make a knowledge claim, on a particular topic. And so the father is free to tell his daughter that it is always wrong to kill other people for money, even if he is aware of ethicists who disagree with him.

The same points that apply to ethics apply as well to the afterlife. If the father is a strong agnostic, that is, if he is persuaded that nobody really knows what happens after death, then he is free to tell his child that nobody really knows. But he should not delude himself into thinking that this perspective is somehow neutral, for it surely isn’t. He is commending a strong agnosticism to his child and if he is successful, she will grow up to hold the same view, just like Catie Wilkins did.

And what of the father whose beliefs about the afterlife are not agnostic but rather Christian, and thus which include convictions about the general resurrection, heaven, and hell? If the strong agnostic is permitted to raise up his child in the belief that nobody knows what happens when you die, then why isn’t the Christian parent permitted to raise up his child in the belief that Christians do know?

The fact is that there is no neutral way for a parent to raise a child … or field their questions.  Every answer is sourced in particular beliefs, value judgments, and a broader view of the world. As a result, it is best that we all recognize that parenting involves, among other things, the desire to inculcate in one’s children that set of beliefs and values that one holds to be true.

To be sure, those of us who value fairness and objectivity and a healthy recognition of one’s own cognitive biases will hope that all parents will include those same values in their education. But we hope for that not because that hope is neutral or value free. Rather, we hope for it because it is in this bequeathal of self-awareness of one’s own limitations and generosity toward others that true freethought is found. It is most certainly not found in the delusion that a dogmatic agnosticism or skepticism toward a particular subject matter is somehow neutral or objective or value free.

Real Atheology considers whether a meaningful life requires God

Like many listeners I was disheartened a few months ago when “Reasonable Doubts” decided to call it quits on their popular radio show/podcast. But just as autumn death gives way to rebirth in spring, so the demise of Reasonable Doubts has given way to Justin Schieber’s new YouTube channel “Real Atheology“. And just two episodes in it is proving to be a great place to get some very clear and informative discussion in the philosophy of religion from the perspective of an atheist.

Here is Schieber’s latest video on William Lane Craig’s existentialist argument for God’s existence. Let’s take a look at the video and then I’ll offer some response below:

Let’s begin with a quick synopsis. Based on the excerpts from Craig’s argument Schieber concludes that on Craig’s view, the existence of God and of human immortality are both required for human life to be existentially meaningful.

Schieber then presents a critique of Craig from philosopher Toby Betenson. Here’s a quote from the abstract of Betenson’s paper:

“Craig says that God must exist as a guarantor of ultimate justice, and that this ultimate ‘fairness’ is necessary for life to have meaning. I will argue that this ultimate ‘fairness’ entails that our lives are futile, since, given the existence of God, our actions are causally irrelevant to the achievement of the satisfaction of the ‘Good’.”

As Schieber notes, there are two ways our life may be futile: either our actions may be causally relevant to ultimately insignificant states of affairs or they may be causally irrelevant to ultimately significant states of affairs. While Craig focuses on the former as a dilemma for atheism, Betenson argues the latter presents a problem for the theist. The only ultimately meaningful state of affairs is the satisfaction of the Good and since God will achieve this irrespective of our actions, our lives are not ultimately causally relevant in which case we sink back into existential insignificance.

Response to Craig

Before turning to the Betenson argument (insofar as it is presented by Schieber; I haven’t read Betenson’s paper), I’m going to address Craig since there are two points on which I disagree with Craig.

First, I don’t agree that human immortality is a requirement for existentially meaningful life. I do think that a life which is on balance good and which continues forever is existentially more satisfactory than one that ends after a finite period. But “existentially more satisfactory” is not the same as “existentially meaningful”.

Put it this way. It seems possible that God could have created human beings so that they would live for a finite period (perhaps 80 years) during which time they would develop meaningful relationships with God and other creatures and after which they would cease to exist. And in such a scenario, it certainly wouldn’t follow that their lives were objectively meaningless. Rather, the meaning would consist precisely in the cultivation of relationships with others for the finite expanse of time allotted to each individual. Thus, while never-ending existence may be existentially more satisfying than finite existence, it most surely is not required for a life to be existentially meaningful.

Second, I disagree with Craig that theism is required for objective value. As I have often noted, atheists may appeal to the existence of a platonic good (as many do) as the source of value. To be sure, in my view such an appeal exacts a high cost insofar as it requires the abandonment of any meaningful conception of “naturalism”. But for atheists who are not wedded to naturalism, Platonism offers a way forward. One may then claim that objective meaning is found in the fullest exemplification of the objective Good in one’s life.

Response to Betenson (by way of Schieber)

Now what about Betenson’s argument? Here’s the key section beginning at about 5:05 where Schieber summarizes the problem arising from Betenson’s analysis:

“But therein lies the problem. If our actions make no difference; if ultimate justice will prevail no matter what we do, or fail to do, then our actions lack ultimate significance — they don’t ultimately matter — they are causally irrelevant to the fulfillment of ultimate justice.”

Is this true? Does divine superintending providence undermine meaning?

I’m reminded here of a key moment in Esther 4:14 where Esther is considering whether she should risk her life to help save her people. Mordecai responds with a pep talk:

“For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”

According to Mordecai, if Esther doesn’t act to save the Jewish people then God will save them in another way. But does it follow from this (as Betenson supposes) that God’s superintending providence undermines the meaning of Esther’s decision to be the one through whom deliverances comes?

I don’t see that this follows at all. On the contrary, Esther’s decision to risk her life to save her people imbues her life with objective significance. After all, she was the cause of the people’s being saved. Even if, counterfactually, God would have saved the people had Esther not acted, that doesn’t change the fact that in the actual world Esther was the cause of their being saved. All that is required for objective meaning is that one is the cause of the Good: one need not also accept Betenson’s additional counterfactual requirement that had one not acted the Good would not have obtained.

This leads me to a second objection to Betenson’s analysis. He claims that meaning depends on one’s causal contribution to the acquisition of an abstract “Good”. But this is not quite right. I would submit that a better way to view Craig’s view (and certainly the Christian view generally) is to tie individual objective meaning not to the acquisition of an abstract Good but rather to the acquisition of moral virtue in oneself which thereby expresses itself in the attainment of the Good to some degree.

Thus, on this view, each individual’s life is objectively meaningful insofar as they acquire an objectively good character, i.e. one that conforms to the Good (or, as a Christian would put it, to Christ). This construal of a meaningful life deals decisively with Betenson’s analysis by tying meaning not to an abstract Good but rather to the good for oneself. And this decimates Betenson’s counterfactual condition since one’s own moral formation is a necessary condition for the acquisition of the good for oneself.

But what of the objection that tying meaning to one’s own moral formation is egotistical? This objection fails utterly to grasp with the fact that being conformed to the Good is (at least on a Christian view) a fundamentally other-centered reality as embodied in Christ’s own self-sacrificial life and death. Thus, meaning is found in forming oneself as one learns to live for others.

14. Is Allah the god of the Bible?

In this episode of the 59 Second Apologist we address the question of whether Allah is the god of the Bible. I begin by pointing out that this question is ambiguous. Next, I briefly summarize the significance of two possible interpretations: linguistic reference and salvation.

Matthew Manry reviews Is the Atheist my Neighbor?

Blogger Matthew Manry published a very positive and even-handed review of my book Is the Atheist My Neighbor? You can read it here.

Faith-Head Christians vs. Brain-Dead Atheists

A few weeks ago I wrote an article titled “Faith-Head Christians vs. Brain-Dead Atheists” for the John Templeton Foundation to be published at Slate. The article was published a few days ago. You can read it here.

Christology, Anthropology, Theodicy. Inconsistency?

1 Corinthians 15:45: “So it is written: ‘The first man Adam became a living being”; the last Adam, a life-giving spirit.'”

The underlying premise of any self-respecting Christian anthropology is found in this maxim: Christology is anthropology. That is, if you want to understand the essence of humanity you should not look back to the pre-Lapsarian Adam but rather to our future conformity to Jesus Christ. The theologian understands the essence of humanity to consist in the divine image, and Christ is that image. Consequently, our destiny is to be conformed to the image of God in Christ (Rom. 8:29) and thereby to become fully human.

But there is a problem with this picture which arises when we incorporate a standard theodicy. That theodicy begins with a question: why does God allow human beings to suffer and why does he grant them the ability to choose evil? If we will one day be unable to sin, why did God not create us as unable to sin from the outset?

The answer that this theodicy (which I call the “value in achievement theodicy”)  provides is that there is inherent value in the acquisition of moral virtues. Think of the distinction between the mountain climber lowered onto the summit via a helicopter vs. the climber who gradually climbs up the slopes. There is intrinsic value in being the climber who fought to reach the top. And there is intrinsic value in acquiring the moral virtues of the image of God over-against having them infused from birth. (For further discussion see my essay “Heaven and the Value in Achievement Thesis.”)

With the value in achievement theodicy in place, we can now turn to the problem it presents. Our anthropology insists that we are most fully human when we are like Christ. And yet, our theodicy insists that we differ from Christ in this fundamental respect: while his virtues are innate, ours are acquired.

In short, the value in achievement theodicy commits us to the view that the value of acquiring moral virtue trumps the value of possessing innate virtue, despite the fact that this status of having a history of moral development renders us less like Christ than we would be if we had indeed possessed innate virtue and with it no history of moral development.

Even worse, if the image of God entails the possession of innate and essential virtues without moral development, then it does not consist of acquired and accidental virtues with moral development. And if that is the case then it follows that you cannot acquire the virtues of the image of God through the accidental rigors of a moral history. Rather, they can only be infused as part of one’s ineradicable essence sans a history of moral development.

Should Christian clergy be expected to believe that God exists?

Thirty years ago the brilliant British sitcom “Yes, Prime Minister” broadcast an episode titled “The Bishop’s Gambit” which focused on the politics involved in filling a vacant bishopric in the Church of England. One of the candidates is a “theological modernist” which the Cabinet Secretary explains to the Prime Minister is “code for an atheist.” Sir Appleby goes on to explain, “The Queen is inseparable from the Church of England” to which the Prime Minister replies, “And what about God?” Appleby replies, “I think he is what is called an optional extra.”

God. An optional extra.

I wish they were kidding, but the fact is that this absurdity of clergy for whom even theism is an option is a reality in many liberal churches. Consider as an example the current case in Canada of a United Church minister who is fighting to retain her position in the church even though she has been an outspoken atheist for more than a decade. According to Rev. Greta Vosper, “how you live is more important than what you believe in.” So, given that she recycles, drives a hybrid and supports the World Wildlife Fund, we should overlook the fact that she’s an atheist. (Sorry, that last sentence was unabashed sarcasm, but I couldn’t resist.)

As a general rule, I try to retain sympathy for those who color outside the theological lines. A healthy church is one that can ask hard questions and tolerate some degree of divergence on the answers. And so we don’t all need to be Calvinists (or Arminians), and we don’t all need to accept the same theory of atonement or incarnation or polity or understanding of women in ministry.

But theism? As an option?! For goodness sake, any church that tolerates avowed atheistic clergy deserves to die. Or better yet, rebrand itself as a secular non-profit service organization.

On the Awkward Romanticism and Individualism of Popular Christian Music

Some years ago I made a disparaging comment about Precious Moments figurines in a theology class. Immediately a hand shot up accompanied by a hurt expression and the comment, “But I love Precious Moments figurines!”

That isn’t the first time my cynical and iconoclastic streak stepped on somebody’s toes, and I suspect it won’t be the last. But everybody’s entitled to their opinions: I’ve just learned to be more diplomatic in how I express mine.

I say that as a preface to my extreme dislike for the popular David Crowder Band song “How He Loves Me.”

If you like this song, more power to you. (The fact that the video has more than 7 million views on YouTube suggests you have abundant company.) But I really don’t like this song for a couple reasons.

First, it isn’t a good song for corporate singing. It’s awkwardly paced and quickly leaves the silver haired congregants behind.

Second, if the pacing is awkward, the lyrics are even more so. I’ve never been a fan of the “Jesus is my boyfriend” romanticism of much contemporary Christian music. Twenty years ago when I was in university, I blinked in incredulity at the lyrics we were asked to sing in chapel. Sorry, but I’m not interested in singing about Jesus holding me in his “Arms of Love.” As an English major, I knew about 17th century poet John Donne’s blushing theocentric eroticism “Batter my heart, three person’d God“. And I’d read about medieval saints like Catherine of Siena undergoing a mystical marriage to Christ. But that didn’t make such themes any more palatable for me.

Even worse, the lyrics of “How He Loves Me” sound not only romantic, but also, to be frank, abusive. To begin with, the song is written in the style of personalized romanticism that one finds in nineties favorites like “Arms of Love”:

“And Heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss,

And my heart turns violently inside of my chest…”

Incidentally, can you imagine a seventy year old man singing that lyric? When you’re that age, a heart that turns violently is a reason to call the paramedics.

But that’s not the worst of it. The romantic longing is accompanied by the fierce outbursts of the lover which are compared to a hurricane blasting the landscape:

“He is jealous for me,

Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,

Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.

When all of a sudden,

I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,

And I realize just how beautiful You are,

And how great Your affections are for me.”

Consider how easily this lyric could be construed as a manifestation of Stockholm Syndrome in which an abuse victim identifies with (and thus attempts to justify) their abuser.

To be sure, there are biblical portraits in which God looks more like a hurricane than a romantic consort (think, for example, of Job 38 ff.). And those images are ripe for theological reflection and discussion. But that doesn’t mean I want to sing a mashup in which God is portrayed as a roaring hurricane whose wrath is placated once I’m curled up in the fetal position on the floor.

“How He Loves Me” embodies several of the reasons I tend to find CCM alienating. It’s highly romanticized and individualistic: the emphasis is that he loves me rather than he loves us. And this individualism is manifested when, as I noted above, a twenty something worship leader expects that seventy year old to join in singing how his “heart turns violently inside of [his] chest”. To cap it off, the awkward pacing and disturbing juxtaposition of thundering rage with tender affection leaves me silently staring at the bulletin.

A Primer to Irenic Biblical Debate on Contentious Moral Issues

Over the last several years few social issues have caught the attention of the Christian community like homosexuality. Critics often complain that the attention and emotional energy that Christians have directed toward this particular issue is disproportionate to its relative importance (see, for example, my article “Ten things that are more disturbing than gay marriage”).

Regardless, the topic has assumed for many conservatives the status of a sort of litmus test that distinguishes those who accept “what the Bible teaches” (aka, the “prophets”) over-against those who allow their opinions to be shaped by the zeitgeist of contemporary culture (aka, the “compromisers”). On this construal the prophet recognizes and submits to the infallibility of the moral and prudential witness of the biblical authors, and he/she faithfully proclaims it even when it diverges from the cultural zeitgeist. By contrast, the compromiser subverts the moral and prudential witness of the biblical authors to the cultural zeitgeist, and thereby they subvert the authority of scripture itself.

In this article, I’m going to challenge this dichotomy between “prophets” and “compromisers”. To make my case I will argue that some biblical authors express views about corporal punishment — in particular the corporal punishment of children — that appears to be both immoral and imprudent even to those who understand themselves to be prophets. Moreover, this moral and prudential censure of corporal punishment is derived not from scripture but at least in significant part from contemporary culture. (Consider, for example, the Psychology Today article “The Problem with Physical Punishment.”)

This leaves the prophet with a trilemma. To begin with, he can accept the unqualified morality and wisdom of corporal punishment of children. Second, he can adopt a moral relativism that accepts the morality and wisdom of corporal punishment of children in the ancient world whilst eschewing it for today. Finally, he can concede that the Christian can occasionally accept opinions from the contemporary Wissenschaft (i.e. contemporary scientific and cultural understandings) which diverge from the opinions of some biblical authors. While the third position appears to be by far the best one, accepting it undermines the simple dichotomy between prophets and compromisers.

Would God allow the biblical authors to offer morally or prudentially errant instruction?

In his book Can You Be Gay and Christian? (which I reviewed last autumn) Michael Brown argues that homosexuality is incompatible with the teaching of the Bible and thus Christian conviction. A key part of his argument is the claim that God would never include within the Bible teaching on an important moral issue which is incorrect:

“How much of your life are you willing to leave to speculation? And given the importance of this issue, would a loving God leave so many of you hanging on a thread of uncertainty, conjecture, and guesswork? Would He inspire His servants (or, at the least, allow them) to make so many categorical statements against homosexual practice in the Bible, recognizing that no one would rightly understand the allegedly gay-friendly intent of these verses until the late twentieth century (or that no one would understand ‘sexual orientation’ until this time)?” (77)

Here Brown is arguing that God would never have allowed errant moral or prudential teaching to appear in the Bible. Since the Bible includes unqualified prohibitions of all homosexual activity, it follows that unqualified prohibitions of all homosexual activity must be morally and prudentially inerrant.

Brown’s argument depends on the general assumption that God would not allow morally and/or prudentially errant teaching to be included in the Bible. But is this true?

This is not a question that can be settled a priori. Rather, we have to look at the text and see. If we can identify a teaching in the Bible that we now recognize to be morally and/or prudentially errant, then we will have a defeater for Brown’s claim. So can we identify an example of a morally and/or prudentially errant teaching within the Bible?

Indeed, we can. In this article I’m going to consider the example of corporal punishment. In his book Corporal Punishment in the Bible: A Redemptive-Movement Hermeneutic for Troubling Texts (InterVarsity Press, 2011) (see my full review of the book here) William Webb considers the biblical teaching on corporal punishment. He notes how many conservative Christians today claim to follow the biblical teaching on corporal punishment (think, for example, of Focus on the Family). According to these Christians, the Bible supports the view that parents ought to give their young children a maximum of two smacks on their bottom with an open hand, though never striking out of anger and never leaving bruises.

Alas, Webb points out that this isn’t, in fact, what the biblical authors teach on corporal punishment. After carefully surveying the Old Testament, he summarizes what the Bible does teach in seven principles:

“1. Do not be duped by age restrictions. Teenagers and elementary school children need the rod just as much, if not more, than those in early childhood, and beatings are effective (not ‘ineffective’ for older children as presently claimed).

Forget the idea of a two-smacks-max limit. Apply a gradual increase in the number of strokes so that it fuses better with the forty strokes cap for adults.
Get the location right. Lashes are made for the ‘backs of fools’ not for their bottoms.
Remove the ‘no bruising’ restriction. Bruises, welts and wounds should be viewed as a virtue–the evidence of a sound beating.
Pick the right instrument. A good rod (hickory stick) will inflict far more intense pain and bruising than a hand on the bottom.
Stop thinking about corporal punishment as a last resort. Use the rod for nonvolitional misdemeanors as well as for major infractions.
Drop the notion of ‘love but no anger.’ Mix in a little righteous anger with your use of the rod.” (52-53)

To put this instruction in concrete terms, according to these guidelines a father could take his six year old who surreptitiously steals a cookie from the cookie jar, and beat the boy across his back with a hickory switch until he is black and blue. What is more, he could take his sixteen year old who fails to top up the gas tank after borrowing the car and do the same, albeit with more lashes given the boy’s greater age. (In case you think I’m presenting a strawman, please note principle 6: relatively minor offenses are fitting occasions for beatings.)

Back to the Trilemma

This brings us back to the trilemma: accept the unqualified correctness of the biblical teaching on corporal punishment of children; accept the correctness of the biblical teaching on corporal punishment of children relative to the ancient world; or reject the biblical teaching on the corporal punishment of children.

We will consider each in turn.

Let’s begin with the unqualified acceptance position. Many Christians have sought to follow the teaching of several biblical authors on corporal punishment. Far from restricting themselves to a “two smacks max” philosophy, they’ve beaten their children in accord with what they take to be the biblical instruction. Is this a viable option?

In Corporal Punishment in the Bible Webb argues that we ought not accept the instruction on corporal punishment that is given by several biblical authors. But at the beginning of the book he recalls asking an Ethiopian student named Fanosie whether he should share his view with Ethiopian Christians. Webb recalls:

“I still remember his vivid answer. He said nothing, nothing at all. Instead, Fanosie bent down his head and showed me a series of welts, scars and ugly disfigurations. He is a tall man and his dark curly hair hid these marks fairly well. He explained to me that he could take off his clothes and show me more marks from beatings he had as a child. He described being raised in a typical Christian home, and how not infrequently, his father beat him with a stick. In fact, Fanosie told me how it was still acceptable for many Christian husbands in Ethiopia to beat their wives as an act of corrective discipline.” (18-19)

Fanosie went on to admonish Webb that he simply needed to share this material with pastors in Ethiopia. Fanosie could attest from personal experience that corporal punishment is harmful and destructive. We should not accept this teaching today.

This brings us to the second option of the trilemma: a qualified, moral relativist acceptance. That is, could one accept that corporal punishment was good relative to the ancient world while adding that it ought to be repudiated today?

There are two problems with this response. First, it commits one to a deeply implausible moral relativism, and one which is simply belied by the facts. If physical beatings are psychologically shattering and deeply harmful for a child today, we have every reason to believe they would likewise be psychologically shattering and deeply harmful for a child three millennia ago in the Middle East.

Second, this middling position undermines itself. You see, the initial motivation for adopting this moral relativist position is to save the teaching of the biblical authors as regards corporal punishment. But by adopting a relativist position one is not, in fact, saving that teaching. Instead, one is undermining it. The reason is simple: the biblical authors never intended to provide instruction that was relative to their context alone. They were offering general practices and maxims of wisdom that were unqualified. If we now say that their instruction is bad for today, we are rejecting the instruction that they intended to offer. Consequently, there simply is no good reason to adopt the relativist position.

This brings us to the final option: reject the teaching on corporal punishment. Whether we recognize it or not, this is already the position of most Christians (certainly most Christians in the West). Today if a Christian was teaching principles 1-7, most Christians (including most who accept the prophet/compromiser dichotomy) would denounce their teaching as morally errant. And if a Christian parent inflicted abuse on their children in this manner, we would be right to call the authorities and report them for abuse.

I for one do not accept the moral or prudential licitness of corporal punishment. I’ve never hit my child and at thirteen she is well mannered, courteous, kind, and an excellent student. I cannot begin to imagine the destruction that I would have wrought in our relationship if I had physically beat her in the manner summarized in 1-7.

Parting Comments for Future Dialogue

At this point we can draw together the lessons from this brief consideration of corporal punishment and biblical moral and prudential instruction.

The starting point is to recognize that there are not simply two groups, e.g. prophets and compromisers (or, for that matter, enlightened progressives and retrograde fundamentalists). Rather, Christians adopt a range of positions on a continuum as each struggles to interpret the Bible and apply its teaching to their lives. If you agree with William Webb and most other people today that it is simply wrong to beat children, you will likely not appreciate the indignant censure of the self-styled prophet who derides you as compromising with the culture. Instead, you will insist that while you accept biblical inspiration and authority, you have good reasons not to accept this particular teaching as given by the author.

This leads to the next point: we should be careful not to collapse what biblical authors intend to communicate into what God intends to communicate. These two intentions may (and no doubt often are) one and the same. But they also may diverge. To note the example to which I frequently point, the imprecatory psalmist may express hatred of his enemies which is irreconcilable with the Christian gospel. But that doesn’t mean that his utterances do not belong in the text. Rather, we recognize that God included those words for a particular reason, even if the divine intention diverges from the intention of the imprecatory psalmist. (I have argued that in the case of the imprecatory psalms, the divine intention is best summarized as identification and transformation, i.e. we identify ourselves in the anger of the imprecatory psalmist even as we are called to move beyond it and be transformed into the image of Christ.)

Similarly, if we decide to reject a biblical author’s teaching on an issue like corporal punishment, it will be because we are persuaded that it is wrong based on some other data (e.g. information from the social sciences; personal experience; other biblical passages). In this case as well, the point is not to question the place of these texts within the canon. Rather, it is to question the way these texts have been read and applied by some Christians.

With all that in mind we can return to the heated debate over homosexuality. I would submit that we begin by setting aside self-serving dichotomies. And that includes both prophet vs. compromiser and enlightened progressive vs. retrograde fundamentalist. Instead, we need to recognize that people of good conscience who accept the authority of scripture can come down on different sides on issues like this.

Next, I would suggest that all sides reflect further on the basis on which one distinguishes instances where the biblical authors offer non-authoritative and potentially errant instruction (e.g. corporal punishment) from instances where the biblical authors offer authoritative and inerrant instruction.

Finally, I would suggest that folks also keep in mind the importance of drawing on a wider set of extra-biblical resources including philosophical argument, social scientific research, and practical experience. Since all truth is God’s truth, no Christian should be afraid of considering a broad range of resources in navigating an important ethical question.

Christians will probably not come to agree on a contentious topic like homosexuality anytime soon. But hopefully by setting aside simple in-group out-group dichotomies, Christians on all sides of important issues of moral and prudential debate can begin to make progress in a spirit of open dialogue and good will.