Why I bother reading scripture

I am a Christian. And as a Christian it is no secret that I read the literature that grounds Christianity itself, which would be the Bible (among other things). I try to read the Bible as often as I can, sometimes with my wife, and other times by myself. However, this seems to puzzle non-believers for the very reason that I adhere to and accept most of what the scholarly consensus says about the Bible. That is, I believe certain parts of scripture to be legend, myth, fiction, and fabrication. More than this, I recognize that certain parts of scripture are barbaric, primitive, misogynist, and downright immoral. Hence, some wonder why I would waste my time with a piece of writing that should be considered nothing but the result of primitive superstition and historical fabrication. Why not pair such writings with other primitive myths like The Odyssey, and call it a day?

 I maintain that such a mindset is just as wrong-headed as the Christian fundamentalism that regards these same writings as the inerrant and infallible Word of God. It’s not as if the only two alternatives with regards to scripture are to uphold it as the inerrant Word of God, or else delegate it to the trash—and only those still stuck in such a fundamentalist mindset would think otherwise. I, and many others, can cherish the Bible without needing to view it as having been handed down by God, and I can criticize it without needing to view it as nothing but superstitious sophistry. So, let me articulate exactly why I still give the Bible the time of day.

 First, let it be known that, Bible or no Bible, I believe and hope in the existence of God. I believe in God for many different reasons, some philosophical and others not. With that in mind I believe it is man’s highest duty to submit himself to the divine; that is, to submit one’s being to the source of being; to submit one’s love to love itself. Therefore I find it quite rational to pay attention to and take note of those who have done this very thing. This includes, but is obviously not limited to, most of the tradition of Christianity and the Bible. For while I don’t agree with all that is affirmed in these traditions, such disagreement is hardly warrant for ignoring them. Thom Stark articulates my point:

[To ignore the parts we disagree with in scripture] is to hide from ourselves a potent reminder of the worst part of ourselves. Scripture is a mirror. It mirrors humanity, because it is as much the product of human beings as it is the product of the divine. When we peer into the looking glass and see the many faces of God, we see ourselves among them. The mirror reflects our doubt and our mediocrity. It mirrors our best and worst possible selves. It shows us who we can be, both good and evil, and everything in between.

Therefore, as a believer in God, I identify with those who took up the task of writing scripture. I identify with their struggle to comprehend and interpret the divine. This struggle is my own, and all of ours. The Bible is a dialogue, made up of many different perspectives and voices. There is the pessimism of Ecclesiastes, the accusations leveled against God in the book of Job, the prayers of the Psalmists, the hope of restoration in Isaiah, the selflessness of Jesus, etc. Many forget that these dialogues are some of the same dialogues that we continue to have today: Is life meaningless? What is God doing about suffering? Is there a life beyond this life? Etc.

 Now some might claim that such speculations are themselves a waste of time and subsequently meaningless. We have, they might say, no reason to believe in God or the afterlife any more than we have reason to believe in fairies, or the flying spaghetti monster. Yet, the one who claims such things is, I believe, making the same mistake that the Christian fundamentalist makes: assuming that we have certainty of such a position one way or another. I don’t believe that we have the certainty one way or another to say God does or does not exist, or that life continues after death, or that suffering is part of God’s plan. Existence is too ambiguous; life is too obscure. Now don’t get me wrong, I do believe there is positive evidence in favor of many of my beliefs, but I would not claim that this evidence is irresistibly overwhelming.

 So, for the most part, I hope in the existence of God and the afterlife etc. (Some might retort that this is simply wishful thinking. But, this might only be the case if I claimed that my hopes made it so, of which I do not claim.) Hence my hope in the aforementioned warrants interaction with the literature and traditions that also employ and discuss the same hope. That is to say, I continue to interact with scripture because the hope that resonates with me was also expounded and wrestled with in scripture. And this is why I identify with scripture, and read it.

The metaphors of theology

Christianity (like other religions) is founded upon centuries of theological doctrine—e.g., the Trinity, the atonement, the virgin birth etc. And many of these doctrines that have been passed down are seen, especially by fundamentalists, to be unquestionable and infallible. Fair enough. But, the question can be posed regarding whether or not some (or many) of these doctrines are necessary, useful, and, more importantly for this specific post, univocal. That is to say, my point in this post is to ask “Can the meaning of these doctrines be pinned down unambiguously?”

Take the doctrine that I so vehemently oppose, namely, the inerrancy of scripture. Christians who adhere to inerrancy believe that God, in some sense, was behind the authorship of scripture and rendered the nature of scripture error-free. Ok, but if you ask an inerrantist exactly in what sense God “authored” scripture you run into problems. Did God himself take up a pen and a paper and write out the Bible? Of course not. But then how did it happen? Did God supersede the consciousness of the writer of scripture and control his mind? Some inerrantists will say yes, and some no. But, therein lies the ambiguity in the doctrine. How can we even promulgate this doctrine with certainty if the means by which it was carried out are extremely obscure?

This example can be multiplied over and over again: Was Jesus literally God, or only metaphorically God? And does Jesus have to be seen as God himself in order to be our Lord? Was the story of the fall really meant to be predicated of an original pair of humans, or is it simply a story that illuminates that humanity as a whole has “fallen”? Is Hell an everlasting torture chamber of fire, or is the language predicated of Hell mostly metaphorical, and Hell is a different place altogether? Etc.

My point regarding these examples is not that people disagree about doctrines, though this is an important periphery here. The point is that the language and concepts usually utilized about these doctrines is ambiguous and obscure. These doctrines are wrapped in so much metaphor, analogy, and mere approximations that it seems difficult to state some of them literally. The question of what exactly we mean when we promulgate a doctrine can always be posed, and clear answers are not always forthcoming. But, if this is the case, then can we really say that some doctrines are unquestionable and infallible? If there is so much semantic wiggle room with regards to a certain doctrine, then I don’t see how questioning or offering radical interpretations of said doctrine can constitute heresy.

Let it also be remembered that the doctrines that we have inherited from the Christian tradition were originally expounded by fellow humans; humans who share the same semantic and cognitive limitations as us. And those doctrines were based on those individual’s own subjective interpretations of scripture—interpretations that we still disagree on today. So, even though most of our doctrines have had a long line of tradition to back them up, this does little to help our confidence in their univocality.

All that being said, I do not mean to insinuate that Christian doctrine is useless and void. Far from it. It is through Christianity that I believe we come into the closest contact with God and Jesus, and I don’t believe that the metaphorical nature of doctrine negates this. What it should do, however, is make us more sensitive to the differences that our doctrinal interpretations produce. We shouldn’t be quick to put our own Christian denomination on a pedestal and proclaim that the other denominations” have it wrong”. We should realize that different interpreters necessitate different interpretations, and that we can still be fellow servants of God while harboring these differences.

God did not write the Bible

The title of the post should be self-evident if taken in a literal sense, since, to quote the perfect grammar of Russell Brand, “the Holy Spirit ain’t got a pen.” That is, it seems quite obvious, even to fundamentalists, that God didn’t literally take up the task of writing the Bible. So, why did I take up the task of writing a post that asserts the obvious? Because, although many Christians wouldn’t claim that God literally wrote the Bible, they do claim that the Bible is the written Word of God. That is to say, many Christians believe that because of revelation and inspiration, scripture is “wholly and verbally God-given” and that God “caus[ed the] writers to use the very words that He chose.” (See the Chicago statement on Biblical Inerrancy.) Thus stated, such Christians adhere to the claim that God is the author of the Bible, though not in a direct sense.

My claim is that God cannot be said to have authored the Bible in this sense. What better way to demonstrate this, then to survey the Bible itself, and I believe the best way to do this, is to quote passages from the Psalms:

Hear me, Lord, my plea is just; listen to my cry. Hear my prayer-- it does not rise from deceitful lips.--Psalm 17:1

Arise, Lord! Deliver me, my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked—Psalm 3: 7

You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water.—Psalm 63:1

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.—Psalm 51:1-2

I chose these Psalms—there are many more like them--for a specific purpose. You see, these Psalms are all prayers and pleas to God himself; they are the pleas of pious hearts and souls crying out for their creator. As such, it seems quite obvious that God did not author these verses in any sense, for then that would imply the absurdity that God is praying and pleading to Himself. So, we see that these verses cannot be preceded by “The Lord says.” Thus stated, we have direct evidence from the Bible that not all of its verses were “wholly and verbally God-given”.

All it takes is simple examples like these to collapse the foundation of inerrancy. For if we can find verses where God clearly did not author them, then we cannot say with any certainty that the rest of the Bible was authored by God. Now this is not to say that the Bible isn’t inspired by God in some sense, but it puts to bed the idea that the inspiration of God somehow controls the words written on the page.

Fundamentalism and a primitive god

Most individuals that have kept up with the current trend of “new” atheism are quite familiar with the names Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett, and Christopher Hitchens et al. Now, while I vigorously disagree with much—mostly on the philosophical side—that these individuals have published, I do, occasionally, find myself agreeing with a few of their insights. And one of these insights that I believe illuminates a hint of truth is Richard Dawkins’ famous jab at the God of the Old Testament in The God Delusion:

The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully.

Ouch. Now, while I wouldn’t agree with Dawkins that this is the only, or even the dominant, portrait of God painted by the Old Testament, I would agree that this is a version of God that is peppered throughout the Bible. Moreover, this barbaric rendering of God is not restricted to purely moral acts; it reaches to the over-all cultural viewpoint that the ancients had of the divine. The Bible (though, admittedly, mostly the Old Testament) many times paints a picture of God that one finds difficult not to describe as primitive:

We’re told that God had a garden that he used to walk through. That in that garden he planted a tree that literally and intrinsically contained the knowledge of good and evil. That he built a firmament (that is, a solid clear dome) above the earth. That he punished all of humanity for the sins of one couple. That he physically wrestled with a human being. That he was not competent enough to exercise his will for humanity and, therefore, drowned all life he had created to start his divine plan all over again. That he ordered the massacre of hundreds of men, women, children and animals. That he fought a fire-breathing sea dragon with multiple heads. Etc etc.

Now, it seems quite plausible to attribute such predications of God to the primitiveness of the Israelites. All the above descriptions make sense as promulgations of a society surrounded by barbaric ancient Near Eastern cultures. These are the cultures that believed that every single event was caused by its own respective god; the cultures that believed that their own gods could be manifest in inanimate objects (i.e. idols); the cultures that believed that the gods could be manipulated and deceived by the actions and rituals of humans; the cultures that believed that the gods were just like humans except to a higher degree of being; and that’s why they could make mistakes, or feel anger or regret, and even eat.  Thus stated, Why would we expect the Israelites not to mimic and, least of all, be greatly affected by the cultures that influenced them and gave rise to them in the first place!

This is nothing to shy away from. The Israelites wrote Hebrew scripture, and the Israelites were, by all means and even by the Bible’s own standards, far short of sophisticated. Through the Israelites worldview we see the evolution, growth, and the first-fruits of the formulation of orthodox theology; but it should be observed that this process was very long and did not always progress in a straight line. The picture of God that we hold today did not emerge overnight through some sort of once-and-for-all revelation. Rather, it is a picture that took hundreds of years to formulate. A picture that was argued about; a picture that was questioned; a picture that was constantly revised and expanded; a picture that was immature and only progressed towards maturity; a picture that was stunted by our own imaginative shortcomings as human beings; and a picture that, many times, mirrored our own faults rather than Gods.

This picture of God evolved throughout the Bible. It illuminates our struggle as finite human beings to grasp and understand the divine. I maintain that it reflects our own shortcomings, and not God’s.

Now, by the time one closes the Bible they are left with an impression of God that is infinitely greater than the above primitive renderings. One is left with a God that is spirit; a God that is love itself; a God that is forgiving and desires that all reconcile themselves to Him; a God that does not admonish evil and wrong-doing; a God who is a loving father who welcomes all people into His kingdom no matter their past, present, race, ethnicity, or gender. In short: it is the God Jesus served and revealed to the disciples. Now, this is not to say that the Old Testament does not contain many of the aforementioned impressions as well. It surely does. But while these impressions are only scattered in the Old Testament, they are fully culminated in the later writings of scripture—though I would argue that even the later writings of scripture still contain pictures of God that we should regard as adolescent.

So, why should one get so upset at Dawkins’ remark above? His comment is not wholly true, but it does speak with some forceful insight. Why should this trouble us as Christians? Why can we not recognize and take possession of the primitive cultures and beliefs whereby our current picture of God had its genesis? The reason is this: fundamentalist formulations of scripture. To one that holds to the inerrant and one-dimensional truth of scripture, admitting any sort of erroneous pictures of God into the Bible is the worst sin one could commit. For the fundamentalist, all portraits of God in the Bible are valid portraits, and any seemingly contradictory or primitive renderings of God are attributable only to our own finite shortcomings—and yet they hold that these shortcomings could not have influenced the very same human beings who formed such portraits of God in scripture! Their Bible is a static bible; a bible with no room for growth of the understanding of the divine. For them, the God that walks in a garden and drowns the whole human race is the same God that is spirit and admonishes us not to repay evil for evil.

Has any idea ever seemed so contrary to reason? Is it any wonder that Christians by the dozens are losing the faith they grew up with? Is it any wonder why atheists mock and ridicule Christians? These fundamentalists Christians are my brothers and sisters, yes; but, they are making a mockery of the faith that I take so seriously. They have turned the beauty of Christianity into a primitive superstitious Bronze Age fable; and I maintain that as long as their adolescent picture of God is paraded around, Christianity will continue to lose adherents.

The portrait of God that we as humans expound to ourselves will never capture the true majesty of God. Even our modern conception of God must be considered primitive compared to His actual being. Our ideas of God have evolved and will continue to evolve. To turn to any one portrait of God and regard that as the final insight into God’s nature is, simply, spiritual immaturity and intellectual laziness. The Bible might be God’s word, but it is not, by all means, his final word.

Textual Criticism and its implications for inerrancy

As a Christian I’ve spent a lot of time dwelling on and pondering the case for inerrancy. The reasons for this are numerous. First, it was probably the doctrine that could have potentially led to the loss of my faith had I chosen to hold to the “inerrancy-or-bust” mentality that plagues fundamentalists. Second, it was after rejecting this doctrine that I truly felt my faith strengthened—I could put my faith solely in God instead of setting up the bible as my spiritual focal point. Third, it seems to me that this doctrine is more of a spiritual crutch to many to be held at all costs instead of a position deduced by pure logical inference.

 With such reasons thus stated, I find myself occasionally running through my mind the reasons why this doctrine is simply unwarranted and untenable. And let me say that the reasons I, personally, have for rejecting this doctrine seem to be miles wide in scope and miles deep in substance. Yet there are a few arguments I have come across (or have come up with myself) that I feel have really put the final nail in the coffin for the doctrine of inerrancy and it is in this post that I would like to expound one of those very arguments.

 This argument begins with the recognition regarding the findings of Textual Criticism. In case the reader is unaware, Textual Criticism is the endeavor of attempting to ascertain the original form of a text. Now, usually appealing to any kind of secular scholarly consensus regarding the bible is something that fundamentalists and inerrantists will not react favorably towards—since in order to affirm the doctrine of inerrancy one would have to reject almost all consenses reached by the academic community. Yet, there is one area where even fundamentalists will (usually) yield to academia and that is in the science of textual criticism. In New Testament textual criticism scholars have reached conclusions that cannot be denied, since these conclusions have concrete evidence to ground them. For instance, it is unanimously agreed that all the (thousands of) New Testament manuscripts we possess have scribal errors. Some of these errors are simple copying mistakes while others are blatant textual additions. These variants reach a mark as high as, and most likely higher than, 400,000.

It’s important to understand that most of these errors are completely insignificant (e.g. spelling mistakes). However, there are many that are quite significant indeed. 1 John 5:7-8 is one of the only places where the doctrine of the trinity is explicitly taught, and yet these verses are not found in a majority of NT manuscripts; the story of the adulterous woman (John 7:53-8:11) is completely absent from many early manuscripts of John; and the resurrection ending of Mark (Mark 16: 9-20) was not added until two centuries after the Gospel of Mark began to circulate. Let me articulate once more that these conclusions are based on concrete physical evidence of the manuscripts we possess.

 So, what is the significance of the above conclusions, and how do they affect the doctrine of inerrancy? Well, first let me begin by correctly articulating the inerrantist position. The doctrine of inerrancy only states that the original texts of the bible are inerrant, and not that God would keep the editors and scribes, who transmitted the texts, from error. Fair enough. But there is double standard employed here; and I believe presuppositionalist  Greg Bahnsen demonstrated it in his own writings:
 

There is no scriptural warrant for holding that God will perform the perpetual miracle of preserving His written Word from all errors in its being transcribed from one copy to another.

 Notice the problem? Did God ever claim that he would keep the scribes and editors from corrupting his word as it was transmitted textually? No. But, similarly, did God ever claim that he would keep the human writers of scripture from corrupting his word as they wrote scripture? No, he did not. (Let it be known that an appeal to the inspiration of scripture does not save this claim unless one already assumes that inspiration necessitates an inerrant text--which would need to be demonstrated.) So, how can one claim that the original text should be inerrant but not the text after transmission, since both of these assertions rest on the same lack of promulgation of the divine will?
 
Moreover, what makes the bible different after the original text is formed? Is it not still the “Word of God”? Of course it is. So, why would God not allow error to corrupt his Word during the writing of the original text but he would allow error to corrupt his Word during its textual transmission? Surely any answer given in vindication of the former would not also apply to the latter? So, I maintain that we can form a valid dilemma regarding the nature of scripture: Either (1) God desired that no human error intermix with his Word or revelation, or (2) God did not desire such a thing. But we know for a fact, again due to textual criticism, that human error did corrupt God’s Word as it was textually transmitted. So, we have warrant for rejecting (1) and are therefore completely warranted in accepting the conclusion that God allowed human error to intermix with his message—whether it pertains to the original text or not. Thus, we have logical airtight reasons for denying the doctrine of biblical inerrancy.

Does our theology condemn us?

The diversity of theology

My theological convictions are, needless to say, not identical to what is seen as orthodox—whatever that is—by many Christians. I don’t hold to the doctrine of inerrancy, to a historical Adam and Eve, or to the penal substitutionary theory of the atonement—these are many of the theological underpinnings that fundamentalists cling to. Yet, with thousands of Christian denominations it becomes almost impossible to identify exactly which group of theological doctrines constitutes orthodoxy; more than that, it becomes difficult to associate the “saved” with “whichever denomination holds to doctrines X,Y,Z.” Subsequently, the question immediately is posed regarding whether or not it is even really reasonable to infer that salvation is contingent upon right believing—again, whatever that means.

 I maintain that such a position—that salvation depends on correct belief—goes against our deepest moral and rational intuitions.  Perhaps an illustration can help illuminate. Take two individuals, call them Christian A and Christian B. Christian A holds to theological doctrines a through h, while Christian B holds to doctrines a through g. Let it be the case that both Christians are equally devoted and sincere regarding their faith in, and love of, God. Now let it also be the case that doctrines a through h happen to constitute the only group of beliefs that make up an orthodox theology. Therefore, it is obvious that Christian B lacks only one valid theological belief, namely, belief in doctrine h.

 Now, is it reasonable to conclude that since Christian B lacks belief in one doctrine, he is any less “saved” than Christian A? Is it this singular doctrine that opens a chasm between the saved and the condemned? Surely such an inference seems to border absurdity. Is someone less of a Christian simply because he happens to lack belief in, for instance, the validity of prayer to the saints? I would think not.

 Yet, one might ask, what if the doctrine that one rejects is a “pivotal” doctrine such as the divinity of Jesus, or the Trinity? Surely these doctrines have much greater significance regarding whether or not one is a real Christian. However, I fail to see that this is the case. Again, remember that there are thousands of Christian denominations, and some regard the aforementioned doctrines as crucial and some do not. So, how are we to determine that these doctrines are in fact the ones needed for salvation?

 I maintain that right belief—if we are even capable of such a thing—is of much less importance than our actions and disposition towards God Himself. The minister Leslie D. Weatherhead makes my point for me:

If Christ can—and he does—hold in utter loyalty the hearts of St. Francis and John Knox, of Calvin and St. Theresa, of General Booth and Pope John, of Billy Graham and Albert Schweitzer, who hold irreconcilably different beliefs about him, how can belief and uniformity of belief be vitally important?

Indeed.

Another illustration that drives this point home for me is my own father. Growing up I held a specific set of beliefs regarding the nature of my father. I now know that much of what I knew about my father only constituted a small portion of his essence. There were many aspects of my father’s life and character—both good and bad—that I simply had no idea existed. Moreover, there were even beliefs that I harbored regarding my dad that were completely off the mark. But, did I love my dad? Yes, with all my heart. Did he love me? Yes, with all of his. Did we exhibit the epitome of a loving relationship? Yes, I believe we did. Then exactly how important were my beliefs about my dad compared to my love for my dad? Surely, there is no comparison.

 Now don’t get me wrong. Of course some degree of correct belief was required for me to have the relationship with my dad that I had. I had to, at the very least, believe that he existed; I had to believe he was my father; I had to believe that he loved me etc. But, most of the beliefs about my dad that did not fit in these aforementioned beliefs were merely peripheral.

 For the Bible tells me so

However, the thought strikes me that perhaps the above speculations and appeal to rational intuitions will not satisfy the fundamentalist evangelical. So, it is always helpful to bring out their holy grail of certainty, i.e. the Bible, to drive a point home.

 Let us begin with a well-known Old Testament character: Abraham. Abraham is a classic biblical example of someone who believed in and obeyed God no matter the seeming impossibility or illogical nature of His commands. In Genesis, during a conversation between God and Abraham, it states, “And he believed in the Lord, and He accounted it to him for righteousness” (Genesis 15:6). That is, Abraham was considered righteous and upright by God due to his deep belief. Moreover, we read from Paul continually in Romans 4 how Abraham was made righteous and justified by his unwavering faith in God.

 But, if we think deeply about this story we realize something profound: Abraham, no doubt, did not have right belief—if by right belief we mean belief in orthodox doctrines. Abraham had no knowledge of Jesus, the Trinity, the atonement, the Eucharist etc. His whole foundation of belief was simply grounded in the hope and love of the Father. Being a man devoted to serving and following God, he was justified by his faith. Yet, to reiterate, his faith was not grounded in orthodox belief.

 Let us jump ahead to the New Testament, and take a look at different aspects of the gospels.

 

First, let it be articulated that Jesus did not require correct theological belief to be a prerequisite for discipleship.  Notice that Jesus didn’t quiz Peter or John or Andrew on theology before he called them to follow him. Neither did he, when preaching the Kingdom of God or healing the sick, ever make many allusions (if any) to orthodox theology. Moreover, how could he have even done such a thing when his followers and disciples were Galilean Jews?

 Second, let us take of glimpse of the so-called parable of the sheep and the goats (Matthew 25:31-46). This is a parable regarding the judging of the nations. In the parable the son of man separates the sheep, to his right, from the goats, to his left. The sheep symbolize the righteous and the goats symbolize the unrighteous. Yet, the reason for the division—that is, what determines one’s status as a sheep or a goat—is based on one’s actions towards bringing about the Kingdom of God—feeding the hungry, clothing the naked etc. Now notice that what condemns and saves an individual has nothing whatsoever to do with right belief! In fact, those that are saved claim that when they committed their actions, that furthered the Kingdom of God, they had no idea that they were doing such things on Jesus’ behalf.

 Third, it must be remembered that most of the doctrines that many Christians consider to be orthodox were not even promulgated as official doctrine until centuries after Christ lived. The doctrine of the incarnation wasn’t even properly expounded until 451 A.D. at the Council of Chalcedon. Similarly, the doctrine of the Trinity wasn’t settled until the end of the 4^th century under the head of numerous church fathers. Therefore, it must go without saying that the early church lacked any belief in the aforementioned doctrines—as affirmed by the councils—and, thus, could not have based their evangelization on orthodox theology, since orthodox theology would not even obtain completion until hundreds of years later. Are we to claim that the early church, which was populated by probably the most holy and most devoted Christians, was not saved because they had not the right beliefs yet in place? Surely to affirm such a line of reasoning is ridiculous.

 

Come together

Mind the Beatles reference and let us conclude here. It seems obvious that one’s salvation is not crucially dependent on believing the right things. The converse of this is that surely maintaining heretical theological beliefs—though I doubt these can be determined—is not reason enough to condemn one. Unfortunately many churches fail to understand this; they are constantly stuck in the “us vs. them” mentality. Hundreds of churches feel that if one is not a part of their denomination, then one is not saved.

 However, in light of the above argumentation it seems that such bickering is useless, invalid, and only hinders the umbrella of Christianity from carrying out what it needs to: bringing the Kingdom of God down to earth by demonstrating the love of God and Christ, and helping individuals to make their way back to the God they have forsaken. I maintain that such an endeavor is so much more crucial than making sure our beliefs fit neatly into the preconceived box we’ve made for them.

 

 

Christian Fundamentalist double standards

A while back I was discussing the topic of evolution with my father-in-law. He is a devout Christian of whom I admire and look up to very much. However, he is also what could be labeled a fundamentalist Christian. That is, he is a young-earth creationist, biblical inerrantist, and a Calvinist. Since I adhere to none of these it should be obvious that we rarely agree when we discuss theology. This aforementioned discussion was no different, though I abstained from voicing my objections that I will presently promulgate.

During this discussion regarding evolution, we stumbled upon the topic of animal death. My father-in-law articulated that one reason he cannot believe in evolution is due to the fact God, in Genesis, is said to have looked at his creation and labeled it good. “But, I cannot believe” he said, “that God would have looked upon His creation, whereby the means of survival was death, struggle and suffering, and called it good”. This is, most likely, a common attitude of fundamentalists regarding evolution, and understandably so—understandably even from my perspective. For such an argument rests on our moral intuitions, and most of those intuitions would prefer a means of creation free from death and suffering.

However, my objective in this post is not to stand as an apologist for God creating through the medium of evolution. Rather, it is to demonstrate that the aforementioned objection raised by fundamentalists betrays a fallacious line of reasoning that is employed when viewed in light of the rest of their theology.

Notice that the above objection against evolution is predicated on the following line of reasoning: If I find moral problems with event (a), then God could not have directly been the cause of (a). For the fundamentalist claims that they find the idea that God created through evolution morally suspect, and since God labeled his creation good, and morally suspect events cannot be good, then God must not have done such a thing. Fair enough. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with such reasoning at all.

But, does the fundamentalist apply such reasoning across the board? In short, no. Take the story of Noah’s ark, or the genocides supposedly ordered by God in the OT. Do fundamentalists take these narratives as depicted in the Bible as fully and literally true? If they’re biblical inerrantists they do. So, is drowning the entire human race—including women, children, and the very animals the fundamentalists were so worried over just a moment ago—and subsequently ordering the slaughter of whole nations—including, again, women, children and animals—morally suspect? This would seem self-evident.

Surely the double standard of the fundamentalist is blatantly manifest. Why is one allowed in one instance to utilize their moral intuitions to deny attribution of an event to God, but not in another instance? Either we are allowed to engage in the former or not. But, the fundamentalist knows that if we are allowed this principle across the board, then inerrancy will collapse. Such is the paradox of the fundamentalist.