Search Results for: Paul Moser

From Atheist Rage to Christian Faith Rooted in Knowledge

Posted on October 12, 2010 by - christopher hitchens, james davison hunter, james spiegel, kerygmatic philosophy, making of an atheist (book), new atheists, peter hitchens

The Hitchens brothers – that would be Christopher and Peter – have been debating whether “civilization can survive without God.”

It’s not a surprising topic for these two, given the focus of their respective books, such as God is Not Great (2007) and The Rage Against God (2010) (I recently reviewed the latter for a forthcoming issue in the Christian Research Journal).

One of the issues that I consider (perching on Peter’s shoulder) is how the New Atheists, including Christopher, try to intellectually convince people of the problem of religion in general, and Christianity in particular. A couple answers can be detected:

First, New Atheists try to insist that “conflicts found in the name of religion are necessarily conflicts about religion” (127). But that doesn’t follow, Peter rebuts, because “man is inclined to make war on man when he thinks it will gain him power or wealth or land” (127), regardless of religious reasons or motivations. Moreover, Peter argues that there is an “undeniable link between atheism and anti-theist regimes,” e.g., Soviet Communism (137-140).

Second, New Atheists claim that it “is possible to determine what is right and what is wrong without God” (chapter 10). But to be “effectively absolute,” observes Peter, “a moral code needs to be beyond human power to alter” (141). Otherwise, “if I pull down the pillars of the moral universe, I too will be crushed when the roof falls” (152).

Third, New Atheists contend that “atheist states are better (read: ‘tolerant’) than Christian states.” But Peter argues that “atheism is a license for ruthlessness, and it appeals to the ruthless” (160). The secularism of the New Atheism is a “totalitarian intolerance.”

It seems that a decent amount of what is present in Peter vs. Christopher, especially in light of the above observations, is a detectable yet often implicit discussion about the nature of “earthly powers” (social, moral, political, economic, religious, etc), including what tradition has a more realistic and humane conception of it, and who knows how to best use it for the good of all people? (one could read James Davison Hunter’s To Change the World as a fruitful dialogue partner in this discussion). How one lands in the “power discussion” as a theist (especially as a Christian) vs. an atheist, would seem to be where arguments for or against God’s existence are prompted, or so it seems to be the case for at least the Hitchens brothers. But how one treats and relates to earthly power is connected to public witness and presence, which is part of the Hunter thesis: Late modern Christian presence and witness in the world is wounded (if not, in some cases, severely challenged and corrupted) by a failure to understand and appropriately act with power, especially of the political kind. If correct, would that not make the plausibility of Christian witness less convincing?

Now, how might readers in Christian philosophy and apologetics further appreciate The Rage Against God? I raise this question because a book like this could be easily pigeonholed as just an “apologetics” book or just an “autobiography.” Of course, it is an autobiography about a famed British journalist’s recovery of Christian belief, who also happens to have a famed atheist brother. Indeed, the book can also be read with an eye toward understanding more about Christopher’s atheism, especially when read in conjunction with his Hitch 22, both of which were released before the announcement of Christopher’s battle with cancer. But Peter’s is more than just “spiritual autobiography” or even an “intellectual autobiography” about the transformation of the “inner life” (a person’s beliefs, thoughts, affections, will, ideas, etc) as the genres may be typically understood.

It is autobiography intertwined with cultural observations and historical mindfulness. Peter communicates about “how atheism led me to faith” from within a broader cultural environment than just the context of a change in worldview beliefs. I found this to be refreshing given the often over-marketing (in some quarters) on “worldview” or “presuppositions” as driving – some might even argue, determining – change in beliefs. Moreover, one can genuinely experience first-hand acquaintance with Western – especially British – cultural history in these pages. But it is more than just journalistic expertise brought to bear on world-changing events.

The book is especially useful for someone with a desire to understand how someone could be an atheist, indeed, how someone was an atheist as a result of first having a profession of faith, even if only a kind of culturally expected, traditional English Christian faith (you’ll need to read Rage Against God to learn more about this important background).

If one reads Peter’s book with an eye toward wanting to understand the sociology of (especially religious) belief formation, which you would want to pay attention to in an autobiography of this type, it is not only fascinating to read but it is illuminating. For it is a useful case example of how people come to have Christian beliefs beyond just being persuaded by a sound, valid and nifty syllogism, or by the force of an air-tight case for Christian claims.

Readers engaged in apologetics, worldview training, or those conversing with atheists should definitely read this book for the obvious way that it can help provide “insider” thinking from a former atheist. But this isn’t the only reason why it should be read and enjoyed.

The book reflects the perspective of a “sociological imagination,” to borrow from C. Wright Mill’s phrase, concerning the fruitful interrelationship between biography, history and society in Peter’s narrative. His journey is an excellent case study of how the sociological formation of theistic or anti-theistic beliefs is a relevant factor to how a worldview changes, which is suggestive of the fact that ideas and nor mere intellectual ascent are the only things that have consequence when coming to believe something. For example, there’s a whole range of factors that underwrote Peter’s process of having a change in belief from atheism to Christian theism: the powerful cultural images, assumptions, various moods and attitudes in his mental environment, acquaintance with political power (British and Soviet) and its consequence for understanding authority, including divine authority, the problem of unbridled British patriotism and its idolatry, and not the least of which, the problem of living life as though desire-fulfillment and freedom were ends in themselves.

What changed for Peter? Initially, several harsh encounters with reality that challenged his then Marxist revolutionary outlook while living in corrupt, Soviet Moscow and reporting on a deteriorating Mogadishu in the early 1990s (chapter 6). But what was transformational was his encounter with Rogier van der Weyden’s fifteenth-century painting, “The Last Judgment,” where Peter “had a sudden, strong sense of religion being a thing of the present day, not imprisoned under thick layers of time,” including a recognition that “[he] had absolutely no doubt that [he] was among the damned, if there were any damned” (103).

But when he returned to Anglicanism as a “prodigal,” he shockingly discovered how his own generation had deconstructed that tradition in Britain (106-123), leaving a gaping cultural hole for aggressive atheism to fill in society.

Moreover, there is a detectable yet sometimes underdeveloped “cultural apologetics” in Peter’s autobiographical narrative, which argues that Christianity, not atheism, is better for civilization. This is what shows up in the Peter vs. Christopher debates. This type of apologetics endeavor is present for at least two reasons: For one thing, it coheres well with the overall historical-cultural trajectory that Peter already narrates about his life as a journalist in Britain or in Soviet Moscow. Second, since he wrote the book as a result of his long-standing discussion with Christopher, and Christopher has seriously tried to challenge the good of Christianity’s cultural capital, it’s not surprising that Peter would respond by showing how atheism has not been good for culture or for the political state of things, for example in Britain and certainly in Soviet Moscow (see especially chapters 6, 8, and 11).

How should we understand Christopher’s atheism from the standpoint of Peter’s journey and story? This is where I think it gets especially interesting. A few insights to consider:

First, Christopher’s “passion against God” had grown “more virulent and confident” during Peter’s “gradual, hesitant way back to the alter-rail” (11). Peter is squarely in touch with how passions can drive people’s beliefs and life compared to having them ordered by knowledge of what is real. “It is my belief that passions as strong as [Christopher’s],” observes Peter, “are more likely to be countered by the unexpected force of poetry, which can ambush the human heart at any time” (12). For some, this comment is itself unexpected. Aren’t the passions of Christopher’s anti-theism supposed to be merely countered by stronger intellectual arguments for God’s existence?

Second, as with all atheists, Peter says that  “Christopher is his own chief opponent. As long as he can convince himself, nobody else will persuade him” (12). At the very least, anyone who debates atheists, especially Christopher, should keep this advice in mind.

Third, the anti-theist “refusal to accept that others might be as intelligent as they, yet disagree, leads them into many snares” (12). Not surprisingly, in a 2009 Slate article, it seems to have taken great pains for Christopher to admit that as a result of extensively debating theists, there just might very well be an intelligent opposition to his claims.

But for the above reasons and more, Peter does not expect Christopher to undergo a “death bed” conversion.

Nonetheless, do you see some wisdom embodied in these observations by Peter? He offers these sorts of insights (and there are others!) in order to help people “understand their unbelieving friends and so perhaps sow some small seeds of doubt in the minds of those friends” (11).

Notice the apparent “strategy”: help anti-theists doubt their doubts or at least doubt why they should hold their anti-theism with such certainty. Why does that matter? That would seem to be significant if in fact anti-theism – or any worldview for that matter – is driven mostly by passions and not by knowledge. Or, as Peter acknowledges, “I became convinced [to be a Christian], by reason and experience” (11).

In The Rage Against God, Peter – the prodigal Anglican – may be more of a spiritual guide of how souls are formed than he might even acknowledge. Philosophers and apologists do well to pay attention to this integration of “heart” and “mind” when thinking about religious or anti-religious belief formation (of recent, Jim Spiegel takes this into consideration in his book on atheism, or one might consider Paul Moser’s “idolatry project” and its relevancy for his “kerygmatic philosophy”). Peter’s book can be germane for developing insightful, pastoral care when interacting with anti-theists, which is not a substitute for developing superior arguments for Christian claims; but surely, superior arguments in the absence of genuine care is not very humane nor a good use of power.

God is Great, God is Good: Interview with Chad Meister

Posted on February 18, 2010 by - chad meister, God is good (book), God is great, interview, new atheists, william lane craig

Bethel College Philosopher Chad Meister and Biola University Philosopher William Lane Craig recently published a co-edited a response to the New Atheism. Below is our interview with Meister about their new contribution: God is Great, God is Good: Why Believing in God is Reasonable and Responsible (IVP, 2009).

How did this book come about? 

Bill Craig and I thought it was time for leading scholars in their fields to offer responses to the central challenges of the New Atheists (primarily Dawkins, Hitchens, Harris, and Dennett) and to provide some of the latest research on matters related to theism and Christian faith.

How does this book uniquely demonstrate how belief in God is both reasonable and responsible?  

One of the objections to religious faith raised by the New Atheists and other critics of religion is that one must be both unreasonable and irresponsible to hold religious beliefs.  This is often a criticism rooted in a reaction to fideism—a reliance on nonrational or irrational faith.  In this book we attempt to demonstrate that faith need not be blind, unreasonable or irresponsible.  Belief in God and Christ can be grounded on reason and solid evidence.  Indeed, not only can one be warranted in holding Christian faith, but it may be much more intellectually honest and epistemically responsible —when taking into consideration the latest work in science, history, and philosophy—to be a believer than not.

Why is there sometimes a tendency in philosophy of religion literature to emphasize the “believing in God is reasonable” aspect and not so much the “believing in God is responsible” aspect?  

Historically in debates about God’s existence and religious belief, the issues centered around evidences and arguments for and against them (e.g., design arguments, cosmological arguments, historical evidences for the resurrection of Jesus, etc.).  In recent times, the New Atheists in particular have emphasized the point that religious adherents are not only basing their faith on specious evidence, but that doing so is irresponsible for an educated person in the twenty-first century.  So religious people are not only unjustified in their religious beliefs, they are also morally culpable for their religious tomfooleries.  For these critics of faith, religious beliefs are not only false, they are downright dangerous and therefore must be denounced and ultimately annihilated from the planet.  In this book, we present sixteen essays (fourteen chapters, a postscript, and an appendix) which attempt to demonstrate that believing in God is both reasonable and responsible.

Let’s talk about the contributors. You’ve got a broad range of talent from philosophers to evangelism and apologetics experts. How does this range of contributors strengthen the book’s overall presentation?

The stakeholders in these issues are extensive and include students, scholars, pastors, teachers, and scientists, among others.  In our book we have included a broad range of contributors, from theologians and Bible scholars to philosophers and experts in science.  While a single-authored work may have had a smoother flow, we chose this format in order to provide the best responses and insights available to criticisms of theism and Christian faith today.

In part one, how do the contributions by William Lane Craig, J.P. Moreland, and Paul Moser offer explanations for knowing that God exists, especially in light of the claims of atheism?  

First, there are a number of robust arguments and evidences for God’s existence, and William Lane Craig argues that Dawkins’s criticisms of the cosmological, moral, teleological, and ontological arguments are not deadly to them, nor are they even injurious.  To the contrary, in their contemporary forms these arguments (most especially the teleological argument) provide forceful reasons for believing in God.  J. P. Moreland argues that, on the Christian worldview, God possesses five aspects (consciousness, libertarian free will, rationality, a unified self, and intrinsic value), none of which fits naturally in a scientific naturalist ontology.  Paul Moser then argues that a morally robust understanding of theism is more impervious to criticism than many believe. 

In part two, how do the contributions by John Polkinghorne, Michael Behe, and Michael Murray respond to criticisms of God’s creative design of the universe?  

John Polkinghorne argues that theism offers a “vertical” story of the universe—one in which the laws of nature point beyond them to a deeper level of intelligibility.  Michael Behe presents the case that three pillars of Darwinian evolution—random mutation, natural selection, and common descent—are insufficient to explain the overwhelming appearance of design in life, notably in the elegant molecular machinery of the cell.  Michael Murray then offers a compelling argument such that even if human beings have a natural disposition toward belief in God, this in no way makes that belief disreputable.    

In part three, how do the contributions by you, Alister McGrath, Paul Copan, and Jerry Walls provide challenges to arguments against God’s goodness?  

I first note that the logical problem of evil has been decisively rebutted in recent years—a point often overlooked by critics of belief in an omnibenevolent God—and then focus my energies on atheistic accounts of morality.  I argue that two main attempts are found wanting.  Alister McGrath contends that New Atheist endeavors to demonstrate that religion is intrinsically evil are unsuccessful; in fact, such a belief is merely an article of faith held by its adherents, supported by a very selective use of evidence and a manipulation of history.  In the next essay Paul Copan tackles the thorny issue of whether God and Old Testament laws are evil, and he makes the case that atheistic moral outrage to God’s character and laws lacks the metaphysical resources for making such charges; the God of the Old Testament is clearly not the moral monster some atheists maintain.  In the final essay of this part, Jerry Walls focuses on the issue of a good God creating hell.  He argues that it is precisely because God is a God of love that some may end up in hell.

Lastly, in part four, how do the contributions by Charles Taliaferro, Scot McKnight, Gary Habermas and Mark Mittelberg contribute to the treatment of Christianity’s unique theological claims?  

Charles Taliaferro makes the claim that given certain frameworks, including one’s view of nature, history, and values, divine revelation doesn’t stand a chance.  He challenges these frameworks and offers some positive reasons for recognizing divine revelation.  Scot McKnight then examines the questions of why many of Jesus’s contemporaries didn’t recognize him as the Messiah, what their expectations were, and how they did in fact see him.  Focusing on ten observations they made, he concludes that their expectations of the Messiah were transformed by the Messiah who came.  In the next essay, Gary Habermas argues that two epistles widely recognized as being written by Paul, I Corinthians and Galatians, demonstrate that the resurrection proclamation was quite early and linked to eyewitnesses of the event.  Lastly, Mark Mittelberg closes the book’s chapters by focusing on the question of why faith in Jesus matters.  He points out that Jesus came so we could have life and have it to the full and concludes with these eternally significant words: “The God who is great and the God who is good is ready and waiting for you to come home to him.”

God is Great, God is Good brings together contributors in philosophy, theology, biblical studies, apologetics and evangelism, and the sciences. What are some other topics or areas of study where you’d like to see such collaboration?

I am currently working on several projects in which I’m attempting to bring together philosophers, sociologists, and scholars in religious studies from across the spectrum of world religions in order to address and dialogue about many of the major issues confronting us today.  These include topics such as global ethics, theodicy, violence, secularization, diversity and public education, and the environment.  As globalization increases and religious pluralism becomes more a part of Western culture, I believe such dialectic will become increasingly significant and profitable.  I’m also working on a collaborative project with Oxford University Press in which theistic and atheistic philosophers and other scholars engage in dialogue about central matters of theism and Christian faith, such as the coherence of theism, the doctrine of the Trinity, the Atonement, and the Incarnation.  An amiable exchange of ideas can be quite rewarding, and my hope is that these various venues of discourse will elevate the dialogue among those who disagree about fundamental matters of faith.

How would you like to see this book used among its readers? Give us a vision for its use.

Our hope is that the book will be read by both adherents and critics of faith.  It is written in an irenic tone—this is no polemical screed—and is the kind of work a Christian, say, could give to an atheist friend or skeptic without concern about its being unnecessarily offensive or blatantly aggressive.  It’s also a work that can be a real faith-booster for believers as it is filled to the brim with cutting-edge theistic arguments, evidences, and rebuttals to critics of God and Christianity.

Chad Meister is a Professor of Philosophy at Bethel College, Indiana. He is also one of our book review editors for Philosophia Christi. You can learn more about Chad by going to his website: www.chadmeister.com.

Philosophia Christi (Winter 2009): Religious Pluralism

Posted on November 8, 2009 by - keith yandell, paul k. moser, paul knitter, philosophia christi, religious diversity

The Winter 2009 issue of Philosophia Christi features a dialog on “religious pluralism” with scholars Keith Yandell, Paul Moser and Paul Knitter.

Here is a preview of what to expect. Subscribe Now!!!

Keith Yandell, “Religious Pluralism: Reductionist, Exclusivist, and Intolerant?”

Abstract: There is a general recognition that there are various self-identifying religions. Many people find the idea that these religions differ in significant ways altogether too distressing to accept. Thus Religious Pluralism is often taken to define the only unbiased, rational, and acceptable approach to the diversity of religions. In fact, the Pluralist route is anything but unbiased or rational. Rather than being the only acceptable approach, it should be flatly rejected. While proclaiming its respect to all nice religious traditions (ones that are not nice are simply cast out), it proposes a radical reshaping of religious traditions along the lines that it favors. Coming to clear terms with this imperialistic fact concerning Religious Pluralist procedures is no part of their agenda.

Paul K. Moser, “Exclusivism, Inclusivism, and Kardiatheology”

Abstract: This paper contends that although many religious views are exclusive of each other, a morally perfect God worthy of worship would seek to include all willing people in lasting life with God. The paper distinguishes some different variations on religious exclusivism and inclusivism, and proposes an inclusive version of Christian exclusivism. The account implies that one can yield volitionally to God’s unselfish love and thereby to God de re, without any corresponding acknowledgment de dicto and thus without one’s knowing (or believing) that God exists. The paper finds the basis for this approach in the teachings of Jesus himself. In addition, the paper recruits a notion of kardiatheology to emphasize that a God worthy of worship would seek to transform the heart (or motivational center) of a wayward person even if this person does not (yet) believe that God exists.

Paul F. Knitter, “Religious Diversity: What to Make of It … How to Engage It? A Conversation with Paul Moser and Keith Yandell.”

Abstract: Knitter asks Moser if the soteriological inclusivism he is proposing for our understanding of God can also be extended to our understanding of Christ: Christ’s death and resurrection do not constitute or bring about saving grace; they reveal it, thus leaving room for the possibility of other revealers. For Yandell, Knitter first clarifies that the necessary conditions for dialogue are not established before but in the dialogue. He then urges an epistemic humility for all Christian philosophers in view of the ineffable Mystery of God—a Mystery that may well include, to the philosopher’s consternation, a “coinciding of opposites.”

God, Evidence and the Will

Posted on November 8, 2009 by - evidentialism, kerygmatic philosophy, paul k. moser

Thomas Nagel, an atheist philosopher at New York University said something very revealing in his book The Last Word:
In speaking of the fear of religion, I don’t mean to refer to the entirely reasonable hostility toward certain established religions and religious institutions, in virtue of their objectionable moral doctrines, social policies, and political influence. Nor am I referring to the association of many religious beliefs with superstition and the acceptance of evident empirical falsehoods. I am talking about something much deeper–namely, the fear of religion itself. I speak from experience, being strongly subject to this fear myself: I want atheism to be true and am made uneasy by the fact that some of the most intelligent and well-informed people I know are religious believers. It isn’t just that I don’t believe in God and, naturally, hope that I’m right in my belief. It’s that I hope there is no God! I don’t want there to be a God; I don’t want the universe to be like that (Oxford Univ. Press, 1997), 130-131.
Nagel seems to be speaking for many when he reveals what the root problem is—an unwillingness to acknowledge God’s lordship in his life. Note too how Nagel admits that a lot of smart people he knows are believers, which makes him very uncomfortable.
Let me mention another book that addresses the will in relationship to God and the available evidence. Christian philosopher Paul Moser’s book The Elusive God (Cambridge University Press), or from his 2008 EPS plenary paper, directs us to the need to consider the role of the will and “perfectly authoritative purposively available evidence” from God. Moser, with whom I have had the pleasure of co-editing The Rationality of Theism (Routledge) has been writing for some time on the dangers of cognitive idolatry and mere “spectator evidence” for God that fails to engage the will. We can easily treat discussions about God with non-believers as mere armchair theorizing rather than a topic of potentially life-altering significance. Notice the priority of the will in Jesus’ words in John 7:17: “Whoever chooses to do his will shall know whether my teaching is from God or whether I speak on my own.”
Sometime ago I spoke at an open forum at the University of South Carolina on “God’s Existence and Why It Matters.” Below is a list of questions I raised at the beginning of my talk. I spoke of evidence, but I also addressed the topic of human need for outside assistance (“grace”) and that God has taken initiative in the person of Jesus to identify with us in our broken human condition and to bring us into a filial relationship with God. In my talk, I pointed out the deep interconnection of God, the will, and evidence. Here are some of the questions I raised to start the conversation:
  • Could it be that I am looking at the evidence for God in the wrong way—like the duck-rabbit scenario? Perhaps God seems hidden from humans because we aren’t paying attention or because we don’t want God’s authority “interfering” with our lives or because we’ve determined the height of the bar over which God must “jump”?
  • If a good God exists, what would God’s goals be? If God exists, what does God have to do with me?
  • If a good, perfectly authoritative God exists, am I willing to acknowledge my unworthiness to receive this God’s grace? Do I make demands of God (“if God exists, then he ought to put on a display of divine pyrotechnics”) rather than ask, “What demands does God have on me?
  • Do I have a right to demand evidence of God if I am unwilling to go undergo personal transformation?
  • Am I open to evidence for God in whatever form it comes—or do I insist that evidence must be a certain way?
  • Does my will have anything to do with my actually benefiting from evidence?
  • If God exists, how would this impact my life? Is it possible to intellectually believe God exists but my life to remain unchanged by knowing this intellectual fact? What’s the point if my life remains unchanged and self-centered rather than God-centered? What’s the point of evidence if I’m not willing to be transformed by the reality of God?
  • Does God want more than just an acknowledgment of his existence? What if God wants an I-you relationship with individual humans?
  • What kind of an attitude does truth-seeking require? Does the fact that people want to disprove evidence for God actually reveal an attitude of non-truth-seeking?
  • Is it possible that some people might hate God all the more as one piece of evidence for God is stacked on another? Is it possible for me to believe God exists and still hate God (James 2:19)?
  • Can my will interfere with God’s goals for me—to relate to me and to change me from being self-centered to being God-centered and other-person-centered? Are we willing to do what a loving God wants for me so that I might find out what life really is?
  • Must God leave us unavoidable evidence before I believe—or might he leave me avoidable evidence that reveals whether I am genuinely truth-seeking?
  • Wouldn’t it be a strange God who made no demands on us or who didn’t care if we had our way over against God’s?
What if accessing relationship-producing evidence is like that of tuning a radio dial to seek out universally—but not necessarily immediately available dismissible armchair evidence?
God isn’t interested in just changing our beliefs. He’s interested in changing *us*! A loving, authoritative God made us to relate to us. Are we willing to receive evidence on God’s terms?
These are some of the themes in Moser’s thought-provoking book. Whatever one thinks of Moser’s views on, say, natural theology, he is surely right to direct us to the centrality of the will and to the very goal of God’s self-revelation—namely, to reveal God personally to human beings so that we might experience intimate, personal knowledge of God through his Spirit, by whom we cry out, “Abba! Father!”

Philosophia Christi Winter 2009 Issue

Posted on September 22, 2009 by - 11:2, philosophia christi

We are in production for the very next issue of Philosophia Christi.

The Winter 2009 issue features a unique and stimulating discussion on “religious pluralism” with exceptional contributions by Paul Moser, Keith Yandell, and Paul Knitter. In addition to this lead discussion, the very next issue will showcase a unique Christian analysis of dispositions, capacities, and powers, notable work on trinitarian subordinationism, the preferential nature of divine love, and several other creative articles, notes and book reviews about a Christian philosophy of work, intelligent design, secularism’s capacity to change conditions for religious belief, body-soul dualism, and several more important topics!

Subscribe/Renew today by clicking here.

William P. Alston, 1921-2009

Posted on September 18, 2009 by - philosophy of religion, william p. alston

The EPS honors the life and work of Christian philosopher Dr. William P. Alston, who died on September 13, 2009.

Below is an obituary received from Valerie Alston, Dr. Alston’s beloved wife. And a personal tribute from Paul Copan, President of the Evangelical Philosophical Society. We welcome further personal and professional appreciations about Dr. Alston’s life and work. Please submit your comments to this blog post (see below).

William Payne Alston

William Payne Alston, 87, died September 13, 2009, at the Nottingham Residential Health Care Facility in Jamesville, New York. He was born November 29, 1921 in Shreveport, Louisiana.

In 1942, Bill received a Bachelor of Music degree from Centenary College. During WWII, he served in an Army Band stationed in California. While in the service, he became interested in philosophy, and after his discharge from the Army, he entered the Graduate Program in Philosophy at the University of Chicago. His Ph.D. work led to a position at the University of Michigan, where he taught philosophy for twenty-two years and established himself as an important American philosopher. He then moved to Rutgers University and, later to the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. In 1980 he joined the faculty at Syracuse University where he completed his fifty-year career teaching and writing about philosophy. He was best known for his work in the philosophy of language, epistemology, and the philosophy of religion. He published several books and over 150 articles. His many Ph.D. students play a major role in philosophy today. He was founding editor of the journals Faith and Philosophy and Journal of Philosophical Research.

Bill received the highest honors of his profession. He has been President of the Central Division American Philosophical Association, the Society for Philosophy and Psychology, and the Society of Christian Philosophers. His international travel included trips to the Vatican as part of an eight-year project on “God’s Actions in the World in the Light of Modern Science,” sponsored by the Vatican Observatory. He was a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts & Sciences, and he received Syracuse University’s Chancellor’s Award for Exceptional Academic Achievement.

He is survived by his wife of 46 years, Valerie Alston; a daughter, Ellen (John) Donnelly of Wayne, NJ and grandchildren, Patrick & Anna Donnelly; step-children, Marsha (Gary) Dysert of Charlotte, NC, James (Nancy) Barnes of Toledo, OH, Kathleen (Blair) Person of Troy, MI; four step-grandchildren and three great step-grandchildren.

A memorial service will be held at St. Paul’s Cathedral on November 2, 2009 at 11:00 a.m. Fairchild & Meech are in charge of arrangements.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral, 310 Montgomery Street, Syracuse, N.Y. 13202.

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A personal tribute to William P. Alston, from Paul Copan, President of the Evangelical Philosophical Society

On September 13, 2009, Christian philosopher William P. Alston died at the age of 87. Alston wrote prolifically on a wide range of topics in the philosophy of religion—from the problem of evil to divine action to the Spirit’s indwelling to divine foreknowledge and human freedom. Alston’s groundbreaking work is particularly noteworthy in the areas of defending meaningful religious language and articulating an epistemology of religious experience. Other significant contributions include his rigorous defense of truth in realistic terms (“alethic realism”) and of metaphysical realism.

I first heard of Bill Alston when I was a philosophy student at Trinity Seminary in Deerfield, Illinois in the mid-1980s. (I was a student of Drs. Stuart Hackett and William Lane Craig back then.) During this time, I began subscribing to the Society of Christian Philosophers’ journal, Faith and Philosophy. I was aware that Alston and Al Plantinga had helped launch the SCP—a momentous achievement whose time had finally come and for which Christian philosophers everywhere will be ever grateful.

During my studies at Trinity, I had my first exposure to Alston’s writings. The very first Alston piece I read was his essay “Divine-Human Dialogue and the Nature of God” (Faith and Philosophy, January 1986). I not only appreciated the topic he tackled; I marveled that a sophisticated philosopher would give a questionnaire to adults at his church, asking them, “Do you ever feel that God speaks to you? (Not necessarily in audible words. The question could be phrased: do you ever feel that God is communicating a message to you?)” Alston tallied the results: Yes-17; No-2. Thus began my great appreciation and respect for Alston’s insight and exceptional scholarship as well as his personal devotion as a Christian.

After my studies at Trinity, I had the opportunity to meet Alston in 1988 at a Society of Christian Philosophers conference at Gordon College in Wenham, Massachusetts. He was one in an impressive line-up of presenters, which included Richard Swinburne, George Mavrodes, Stephen Evans, Nicholas Wolterstorff, Eleonore Stump, and Marilyn Adams along with biblical scholars Anthony Thiselton and the late James Barr. A few of these presented papers made their way into the Faith and Philosophy October 1989 issue.

Years later, I wrote a book review of Thomas Morris’s God and the Philosophers (Oxford University Press 1994) for The Review of Metaphysics (June 1997). Alston’s autobiographical chapter gave me further insight into his experience with God personally—even speaking in tongues—through the influence of charismatic Christians. Alston discussed his attraction to the Christian community through the love he had experienced within it: “my way back [to Christ] was not by abstract philosophical reasoning, but by experience—experience of the love of God and the presence of the Spirit, as found within the community of the faithful” (p. 28). Alston has served as a model of rigorous philosophical thought as well as a deep experience of God by His Spirit. His experience reminds us that the gospel is powerful in a holistic sense: it not only has explanatory philosophical power, but it has the power to transform lives and meet the deepest of human needs.

Back in 2002/2003, I had the privilege of working with Alston on a book project. With Paul Moser, I coedited The Rationality of Theism (Routledge), and Bill led off with the superb essay, “Religious Language and Verificationism.” He concluded his piece by calling the Verificationist Criterion to be “but a paper tiger, in philosophy of religion as elsewhere.” He added, “It poses no threat to the apparently obvious truth that talk of God contains many statements about God that have objective truth-values—whether we can determine what they are or not.”

I am honored to have learned from and worked with this notable philosopher and, even more significantly, a brother in Christ and a partner in the gospel.

Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.

*********************************************

Other remembrances about Alston can be found here:

For further info, see Daniel Howard-Snyder’s helpful bibliography of Alston’s scholarly work (since 2006) and Daniel’s 2005 biographical entry in the Dictionary of Modern American Philosophers.

We welcome personal and professional appreciations in honor of Dr. William P. Alston. Please submit your comments to this post!

Interview with Chad Meister: Introducing Philosophy of Religion (part two)

Posted on July 1, 2009 by - chad meister, interview, introducing philosophy of religion (book)

We continue our interview with Chad Meister about his Introducing Philosophy of Religion. In this part, Chad shares with us about he teaches philosophy and how philosophy of religion has influenced other areas of philosophy.

What are some lessons that you’ve learned over the years about how to teach philosophy of religion?

My overall pedagogical methods in the classroom have changed significantly over the last ten years or so, and this is especially true in upper level undergraduate philosophy courses such as philosophy of religion. Here are what I consider to be some significant lessons for teaching philosophy of religion (or any undergraduate philosophy course). Some of these lessons I gleaned from pedagogy researcher Ken Bain:

  • Students are not typically familiar with many, if not most, of the central topics and ideas discussed in the field, nor are they familiar with how the topics are typically approached. So rather than focusing on one or two main issues, or reading one or two primary sources, I find it helpful to first introduce them to a number of relevant topics and then to hone in on several key ones. For their assigned papers, then, I give them the opportunity to choose one or two issues with which to spend a good deal of time over the course of the semester.
  • I usually begin class with an excellent question (a question that is meaningful to the student)—that is, with a BIG question. So I generally create at least one major question for each class period and write it on the board or in PowerPoint. For example, I might ask, “What is John Hick’s pluralistic hypothesis, and what are some reasons you have for agreeing or disagreeing with it?” The lecture/discussion will generally, then, focus on this question.
  • As Ken Bain notes, a recent Harvard study of the most successful students included two key elements in the classroom: tough classes and the opportunity to try, fail, get feedback, etc. separate from a grade. I believe creating assignments, such as short papers on a central theme, that allow students to work on a topic, turn in the assignment, receive comments, and re-work the assignment are effective means. These early papers receive no grade, but the final product (a longer paper including research and reflection from the earlier shorter ones) does.
  • Students need to have some control over their own education. For papers, I offer students multiple topics from which to choose, or I allow them to pick a subject related to their major or area of interest.
  • As many of the great ancient Greek philosophers understood, one of the most helpful ways of acquiring knowledge and being transformed by it is seeing it modeled by a respected mentor. So, for example, I invite students over to my home regularly to discuss issues in that environment and work to develop respect by the “younger” students for the more advanced ones. I even encourage their involvement in an official mentoring program at the college where students and faculty mentor others, and I mentor a number of the philosophy majors myself. There should be regular collaborative efforts between students, so I have them work together in small groups on projects both in and outside of class. When appropriate, I have the “advanced” students help/mentor the “newer” ones. Especially for the philosophy majors, I try to create an environment where we are growing together and encouraging one another as a community of learners.
  • Students must believe that their own work will really matter (though it may be quite basic at this stage), so I have individual meetings with them to discuss their paper topics. I encourage them to focus on a theme that is significant—both to them and to the field at large—and explain why what they are doing is philosophically significant. Furthermore, I offer them the opportunity as a class to craft a journal—one structured very much like a professional philosophy journal, but with other features that make it more fun and exciting for undergraduates (for example, including timelines, glossaries, even a comics section!). This has been a very productive, collaborative kind of project which, in one case, we published. I also encourage students to work toward writing publishable papers (and to try to publish them if they are of that quality) and to attend conferences where students and others are presenting papers. It is oftentimes in these kinds of contexts where the significance of their own work can be more fully appreciated.

How has philosophy of religion work influenced other fields in philosophy?

There is a long story to be told here, but I’ll try to keep this brief. There is a fascinating symbiotic relationship among those doing work in the various fields of philosophy you mention and work being done in philosophy of religion. Consider first a brief account (one probably quite familiar to many readers) of the resurgence of philosophy of religion over the past century with respect to work done in epistemology, metaphysics, and philosophy of language.

Philosophy, especially within the analytic tradition, emphasizes precision of terms and clarity of concepts. Religion, however, is often imprecise and veiled in mystery. This imprecision was challenged in the mid-twentieth century with the rise of logical positivism. Logical positivists used a principle of verifiability to reject as meaningless all non-empirical claims; only the tautologies of mathematics and logic, along with statements containing empirical observations or inferences, were considered meaningful. Many religious statements, however, such as claims about the transcendent, are neither tautological nor empirically verifiable. So certain fundamental religious claims and beliefs (such as “Yahweh is good” or “Atman is Brahman”) were taken by the positivists to be cognitively meaningless utterances. Positivism became a dominant philosophical approach and for a time, for this and related reasons, philosophy of religion as a discipline became suspect.

The philosophical tide began to turn, however, in the latter half of the twentieth century with respect to religious language. Many argued that the positivists’ empiricist criteria of meaning were unsatisfactory and problematic. Due to the philosophical insights on the nature and meaning of language provided by the later Ludwig Wittgenstein, the rise of a pragmatic version of naturalism offered by Willard Quine, and other factors, logical positivism quickly waned. For these reasons, along with the exemplary work of such analytic philosophers of religion as Alvin Plantinga, Richard Swinburne, John Hick, and others, by the 1970s discussions about religious (and metaphysical and ethical) concepts were revived and soon became accepted arenas of viable philosophical and religious discourse.

Since that time, philosophy of religion has become a burgeoning field. For example, two leading philosophy journals today—Philosophia Christi and Faith and Philosophy—are primarily focused on issues in philosophy of religion. In addition, two of the largest (if not the largest) subgroups within the American Philosophical Association are the Evangelical Philosophical Society and the Society of Christian Philosophers. Furthermore, one could cite countless examples of recent work that integrates other fields of philosophy with philosophy of religion, or philosophy of religion work which has influenced other fields. Consider just a few fine examples (with apologies for the many other fine examples which are not included):

The list goes on and on. Those doing work in philosophy of religion have indeed made great strides in influencing other fields in philosophy over the past fifty years, and there is no indication of its waning any time soon.

More about Chad Meister can be found at his website.

Yahweh Wars and the Canaanites

Posted on May 4, 2009 by -

Paul Copan

Philosophy and Ethics
Palm Beach Atlantic University
Palm Beach, Florida

Of the various Old Testament (OT) ethical issues, Yahweh’s command that Israel kill the Canaanites strikes us as the weightiest. In this issue of Philosophia Christi, Wes Morriston and Randal Rauser highlight this theme in reply to my
earlier essay, “Is Yahweh a Moral Monster?”[1]
I am grateful for their comments and for the opportunity to respond to the key questions
they raise. Since their objections overlap somewhat, I shall simply list and respond
to the major concerns as I see them. In doing so, I shall touch on the contributions
made by comrades-in-arms, Clay Jones and Joseph Buijs, whose supportive essays also
appear in this issue.[2]

1. Incorrigibly Wicked?

Morriston challenges the claim that the Canaanites were really that
wicked or that they were incorrigibly so and thus deserving God’s judgment:
“the evidence of incorrigible wickedness is nonexistent.”[3]
However, Clay Jones’s essay documents and reinforces my point that this was indeed
a wicked people. God was willing to wait over 400 years because “the sin of the
Amorite was not yet filled up” (Gen. 15:16). In Abraham’s day, no reason yet existed
for dispossessing them. The land was not ready to “vomit them out” (Lev. 18:25).
Only after Israel’s lengthy enslavement in Egypt would the time finally be ripe
for the Israelites to enter Canaan�”because of the wickedness of these nations”
(Deut. 9:4�5).[4]
Meredith Kline reminds us that the judgment on the Canaanites is an “intrusive phenomenon”
of eschatological ethics into the period of common grace, anticipatory of a final
judgment when God finally establishes justice on a cosmic scale.[5]

Now, I am not arguing that the Canaanites were absolutely the worst
specimens of humanity that ever existed, nor am I arguing that the Canaanites were
the worst specimens of humanity in the ancient Near East (ANE). However, the evidence
adduced by Jones sufficiently reveals a profound moral corruption, and we are not
surprised to read that they are ripe for divine judgment in keeping with God’s
salvation-historical purposes. Nor are the Canaanites uniquely singled out for divine
judgment in the Scriptures; prophetic oracles abound concerning Yahweh’s threats
of judgment on nations that had also crossed the moral threshold. Furthermore, we
should not think that God no longer judges nations today�even if we may not be able
to determine this precisely.[6]
However, I shall say no more on this topic but shall let Morriston direct any remaining
objections to Jones!

2. Morally Culpable?

Morriston wonders if the Canaanites were really “morally culpable.”[7]
After all, they were just practicing their religion, which was passed on to them
from the previous generation. Surely the Canaanites “deserve . . . enlightenment
about the true nature of God and about His requirements for human beings.”[8]
However, history shows that nations and civilizations have been capable
of moral reforms and improvements. This suggests that humans are not necessarily
cut off from all moral ideals and insights through general revelation to help improve
upon what was handed down to them. Furthermore, a passage such as Amos 1�2 suggests
that moral “enlightenment,” though suppressed, was available to Gentile nations
surrounding Israel. There, God threatens judgment against the nations surrounding
Israel not because they were merely “practicing the religion of their parents,”
but because they stifled compassion, suppressed their conscience, and carried out
particularly heinous acts. They should have known better. The Canaanites were “disobedient”
(Heb. 11:31)�a term indicating a moral awareness of wrongdoing but a refusal to
turn from it.[9]
Paul affirms that those without special revelation still have the capacity (through
conscience) to distinguish right from wrong (Rom. 2:14�15). Paul’s point is nicely
illustrated in the appendix to C. S. Lewis’s Abolition of Man: moral codes
of many cultures across the ages are strikingly similar at key points�honoring parents,
being faithful in marriage, not stealing, not murdering, not bearing false witness,
and so on.[10]
Furthermore, despite their immersion in Canaanite ways, Rahab and her family (Josh.
2) are a clear sign that other Canaanites could have preserved their lives if
they had humbled themselves before Israel’s God, who had convincingly delivered
his people from Egypt with signs and wonders and demonstrated his reality and surpassing
greatness (Josh. 2:9�11).

Speaking of Rahab, we can reject Morriston’s claim about what the text “plainly”
says (that Rahab was being “prudent rather than pious”). Joshua’s literary strategy,
in fact, devotes much attention to Rahab’s responsiveness to Yahweh, including
her assisting the spies (chapter 2). In chapter 6, the number of words mentioning
her and her family’s being spared (86 words) are roughly the same as those devoted
to describing Jericho’s destruction (102 words)�an indication of Yahweh’s willingness
to receive any who turn to him.[11]
Contrary to Morriston’s charge that Rahab would “sell out her own city in order
to save her own skin,”[12]
she simply realized that God was with the Israelites, and she aligned herself with
reality. Rahab is no more “selling out” than those Germans disenchanted with Hitler
who joined the Allied cause.

Rahab’s embracing Yahweh and finding salvation illustrates the theme of Exodus
34:6: Yahweh’s gracious, compassionate character extends salvation to all and relents
from judging, whether Canaanite or�much to Jonah’s dismay�Ninevite (Jon. 4:2) or
those from any “nation” that “turns from its evil” (Jer. 18:7�8). Yahweh desires
that the wicked turn rather than die (Ezek. 18:31�32; 33:11). And when Israel and
Judah reached a point of no moral and spiritual return (“until there was no remedy”),
God judged them severely (2 Chron. 36:16; cp. 2 Kings 18:11�12; 1 Chron. 5:23).

Yahweh’s ban (herem), then, was not absolute. Carrying out herem
did not entail the refusal of mercy, as we see in Rahab’s case. The possibility
of salvation was not a violation of the ban.[13]

3. Standards for Irredeemability?

Rauser objects to the killing of the “wicked Canaanites” since “we have no guidelines
to determine when a culture is irredeemable.”[14]
Rauser’s point calls to mind Israeli psychologist Georges Tamarin’s 1966 study
involving 1,066 schoolchildren ages eight to fourteen. Presented with the story
of Jericho’s destruction, they were asked, “Do you think Joshua and the Israelites
acted rightly or not?” Two-thirds of the children approved. However, when Tamarin
substituted “General Lin” for Joshua and a “Chinese kingdom 3,000 years ago” for
Israel, only 7 percent approved while 75 percent disapproved.[15]
So, though we condemn the killing of an ethnic group when carried out by Nazis or
Hutus, Israel seems to get a pass when doing the “same thing” to the Canaanites.

Rauser suggests that we need something more than mere mortal assessments regarding
a culture’s ripeness for judgment. Such matters are too weighty a matter for humans
to judge. Indeed, these determinations ought to be left up to God�namely, special
revelation. And this is precisely what we have! In John Goldingay’s words,
“It takes a prophet to know whether and how a particular war fits into Yhwh’s purpose.”[16]

4 Ethnic Cleansing and Genocide?

Both Rauser and Morriston utilize the term “genocide,” and Rauser mentions “ethnic
cleansing.” However, ethnic cleansing suggests a racial hatred, which just is
not behind the injunctions to kill Canaanites. Consider how Rahab and her
family were welcomed into the Israelite fold. Visions of ethnic and moral superiority
are not part of the picture.[17]
In the Mosaic Law, Yahweh repeatedly commands Israel to show concern for strangers
and aliens in their midst (for example, Lev. 19:34; Deut. 10:18�19), since the Israelites
had been strangers in Egypt. Moreover, prophets later view the nations once singled
out for judgment (for example, the Jebusites�a Canaanite people [Deut. 7:1]) as
the ultimate objects of Yahweh’s salvation. For example, in Zechariah 9:7, the
Philistines�on whom God pronounces judgment in 9:1�6�and the Jebusites (who came
to be absorbed within the fold of Judah) are both to become part of God’s redeemed
“remnant.” This theme is reinforced in Psalm 87, where the Philistines and other
enemies are incorporated into the people of God.[18]

Yahweh’s evident concern for the nations in the OT hardly supports a Gentile-hating,
arrogant ethnocentrism. Rauser notwithstanding, the Israelites did not determine
themselves to be the in-group, who in turn demonized the out-group and then destroyed
them. Yahweh pointedly reminds his people that their taking the land is not due
to their intrinsic superiority (“right�eousness,” “uprightness of heart”), but because
of the “wickedness” of the Canaanites. Indeed, the Israelites are “a stubborn people”
(Deut. 9:4�6).

5. Herem and Human Sacrifice?

Regarding the Hebrew term herem (“ban,” “dedication to destruction”),
Rauser correctly observes the religious dimension to Israel’s wars. Indeed,
this was true of ANE wars in general�sacred or holy endeavors.[19]
Israel’s defeating its enemies was an indication that Yahweh the “warrior” (Exod.
15:3) was ruler over all the nations and their gods. Is Rauser correct, though,
in claiming that the slaughter of all men, women, and children was a “religious
act of worship“?

Not quite. Susan Niditch’s study, War in the Hebrew Bible, affirms
that the “ban” in the early texts (for example, Deut. 20) refers to the total destruction
of warriors and the consecration to God of everything that was captured:

The dominant voice in the Hebrew Bible condemns child sacrifice
as the epitome of anti-Yahwist and anti-social behavior . . . . the dominant voice
in the Hebrew Bible treats the ban not as sacrifice in exchange for victory but
as just and deserved punishment for idolaters, sinners, and those who lead Israel
astray or commit direct injustice against Israel.[20]

Furthermore, Hess contends that human sacrifice to Yahweh was not behind
herem; no evidence in the early texts suggests this.[21]
Contra Morriston, there is a “subversive attitude to human sacrifice” in
the OT. According to Hess, there is “little suggestion that war is an act of human
sacrifice to a god who demands it.”[22]

Now, Morriston suggests that certain passages, if not implicitly endorsing the
acceptability of human sacrifice, seem to diminish divine displeasure towards it.

The first is 2 Kings 3:27, where Mesha, king of Moab, (apparently) sacrifices
his firstborn son on the wall of Kir Hareseth (in Moab), after which the Israelite
army withdrew. Morriston’s suggestion is mistaken here for several reasons. First,
it is at odds with what the author of Kings declares in subsequent passages (cp.
2 Kings 16:3; 17:7; 21:6). Second, the Mosaic Law clearly condemns child sacrifice
as morally abhorrent (Lev. 18:21; 20:2�5; Deut. 12:31; 18:10). Third, the word
fury (qetseph)is wrongly assumed to be divine wrath.[23]
Its cognate is used elsewhere in 2 Kings, clearly referring to human fury
(5:11; 13:19). Fourth, typically, commentators suggest several plausible interpretations�and
Morriston’s is not one of them! (i) Perhaps there was fury against Israel
among the Moabites because their king Mesha, forced by desperation, sacrificed his
son (in order to prompt Moab’s renewed determination to fight).[24]
(ii) Another possibility is that the Israelites were so horrified or filled with
superstitious dread�which came “upon Israel” (RSV)�at this human sacrifice that
they abandoned the entire venture.[25]
(iii) A final alternative is that because of Mesha’s failed attempt to break through
the siege (perhaps to head north for reinforcements), he was still able to capture
the king of Edom’s firstborn son, whom he sacrificed on the wall, which demoralized
Edom’s army. Their “wrath” ended the war because they withdrew from this military
coalition of Israel, Judah, and Edom.[26]

What of Jephthah’s rash vow and sacrifice (Judg. 11:30�40)? While some strongly
argue against the claim that Jephthah literally sacrificed his daughter,[27]
most OT scholars believe the text asserts this.[28]
Let us then assume the worst-case scenario. Morriston informs us that Jephthah the
“Judge of Israel . . . would surely have known” that child sacrifice was wrong and
that it was because of such acts that Yahweh judged the Canaanites. Why then this
human sacrifice?

Morriston too hastily concludes that Israel assumed human sacrifice as morally
acceptable before Yahweh. We can apply Morriston’s statement to Samson. As a “Judge
of Israel,” he “would surely have known” that touching unclean corpses and consorting
with prostitutes were forbidden by Yahweh. Precisely because we are talking about
the time of the Judges, Morriston should be all the more cautious in suggesting
what he does.

But didn’t “the Spirit of the Lord” come on Jephthah (Judg. 11:29)? Yes, but
we should not take this as a wholesale divine endorsement of all Jephthah did�no
more so than the Spirit’s coming on Gideon (6:34) was a seal of approval on his
dabbling with idolatry (8:24�7)�or Ehud (3:26), for that matter.[29]
Yes, these “Judges of Israel” would “surely have known” this was wrong. Indeed,
“the Spirit of the Lord” came upon Samson to help Israel keep the Philistines at
bay (14:6, 19; 15:14). Yet his plans to marry a Philistine woman, cavorting with
a prostitute, and getting mixed up with Delilah all reveal a judge with exceedingly
poor judgment! (No doubt there is a moral in here somewhere about how God often
works despite humans rather than because of them!)

The theology of Judges emphasizes the nadir of Israelite morality and religion�with
two vivid narratives at the book’s end to illustrate this (chapters 17�21). In
light of the repeated theme “everyone did what was right in his own eyes” (17:6;
21:25; cp 2:10�23), we could say that Morriston is expecting too much moral uprightness
from characters in a book depicting Israel’s moral nosedive. Not only did the Mosaic
Law clearly prohibit child sacrifice�something known to the judges; Scripture itself
reminds us that not all behavioral examples in Scripture are good ones (cp. 1 Cor.
10:1�12). We do not have to look hard for negative exemplars in Judges of Israelites
in the moral basement. No explicit statement of Yahweh’s obvious disapproval is
needed.

6. Total Annihilation and “Bludgeoning Babies”?

(a) “All that breathes.”

I observed in my previous essay that the language of total obliteration (“all
that breathes”) is an ANE rhetorical device, an exaggeration commonly associated
with warfare. For example, in Deuteronomy 2:34 (“we captured all his cities at that
time and utterly destroyed the men, women and children of every city. We left no
survivor.”) and 3:6 (“. . . utterly destroying the men, women and children of every
city”), we come upon what is a standard expression of military bravado in ANE warfare.
In 7:2�5, alongside Yahweh’s command to “destroy” the Canaanites is the assumption
they would not be obliterated�hence the warnings not to make political alliances
or intermarry with them. That is, we have stock ANE phrases referring to a crushing
defeat and utter obliteration in my earlier article, but
this is what Goldingay calls “monumental hyperbole.”[30]
After all, the books of Joshua and Judges themselves make clear that many inhabitants
remained in the land.[31]
“While Joshua does speak of Israel’s utterly destroying the Canaanites, even these
accounts can give a misleading impression: peoples that have been annihilated have
no trouble reappearing later in the story; after Judah puts Jerusalem to the sword,
its occupants are still living there �to this day’ (Judg. 1:8, 21).”[32]

OT scholar Richard Hess has written on the Canaanite question, offering further
insights on the entire discussion.[33]
(Following Hess here, I shall present “Scenario 1,” which argues that the Canaanites
targeted for destruction were political leaders and their armies rather than noncombatants.)[34]
Hess’s research has led him to conclude that the ban (herem) of Deuteronomy
20:10�18 refers to “the total destruction of all warriors in the battle,”
[35]
not noncombatants.
[36]
But does not Joshua 6:21 mention the ban�”every living thing in it”�in connection
with “men and women, young and old, cattle, sheep and donkeys”? The stock phrase
“men and women [lit. �from man (and) unto woman’]” occurs seven times in the OT�Ai
(Josh. 8:25); Amalek (1 Sam. 15:3); Saul at Nob (1 Sam. 22:19 [only here are children
explicitly mentioned]); Jerusalem during Ezra’s time (Neh. 8:2); and Israel (2
Sam 6:19 = 2 Chron. 15:3). Each time�except at Nob, where Saul killed the entire
priestly family, save one (1 Sam. 21:20)�the word “all [kol]” is used.
Hess contends that “the phrase [�men and women’] appears to be stereotypical for
describing all the inhabitants of a town or region, without predisposing the reader
to assume anything further about their ages or even their genders.”[37]

(b) The military forts of Jericho and Ai.

As we look specifically at Joshua’s language concerning Jericho and Ai, it appears
harsh at first glance: “They devoted the city to the Lord and destroyed with the
sword every living thing in it�men and women, young and old, cattle, sheep and donkeys”
(6:21); and again, “[t]welve thousand men and women fell that day�all the people
of Ai” (8:25).[38]
As we shall see below, this stereotypical language describes attacks on military
forts or garrisons�not a general population that includes women and children. Jericho
and Ai were military strongholds guarding the travel routes from the Jordan Valley
up to population centers in the hill country. That means that Israel’s wars here
are directed toward government and military installments. So the mention “women”
and “young and old” turns out to be stock ANE language that could be used even
if “women” and “young and old” were not living there. The language of “all”
(“men and women”) at Jericho and Ai is, in Hess’s words, a “stereotypical expression
for the destruction of all human life in the fort, presumably composed entirely
of combatants.”[39]
The text just does not require that “women” and “young and old” must have
been in these cities.

The term “city” (�ir) reinforces this theme.[40]
Regarding Jericho, Ai, and other cities in Canaan, Hess writes: “we know that many
of these �cities’ were used primarily for government buildings, and the common
people lived in the surrounding countryside.”[41]
Archaeological evidence points to the lack of civilian populations at Jericho, Ai,
and other cities mentioned in Joshua. That “cities” were fortresses or citadels
is made all the more clear by an associated term, melek (“king”), which
was used in Canaan during this time for a military leader. What
is more, the battles in Joshua do not mention noncombatants (women and children).
Hess adduces inscriptional, archaeological, and other such evidences that Jericho
was a small settlement of probably 100 or fewer soldiers. This is why all of Israel
could circle it seven times in one day and then do battle against it.[42]
So if Jericho was a fort, then “all” those killed therein were warriors�Rahab and
her family being the exceptional noncombatants dwelling within this militarized
camp.[43]
The same applies throughout the book of Joshua. All of this turns out to be quite
the opposite of what many have been taught in Sunday school classes!

(c) Rahab in a tavern.

What, then of Rahab? She was in charge of what was likely the fortress’s tavern
or hostel rather than a brothel, though these were sometimes run by prostitutes.[44]
Such overnight places for traveling caravans and royal messengers were common during
this period.[45]
The Code of Hammurabi (�109) parallels what we see in Joshua 2: “If conspirators
meet in the house of a tavern-keeper, and these conspirators are not captured and
delivered to the court, the tavern-keeper shall be put to death.” As Moshe Weinfeld
notes, such reconnaissance missions were a “widespread phenomenon in the east.”
Such an innkeeper’s home would be “the accustomed place for meeting with spies,
conspirators, and the like.” In light of such potential security threats, the Hittites
prohibited the building of any such inn or tavern near fortress walls.[46]

We could add here, contra Morriston, that the author of Joshua goes
out of his way to indicate that no sexual liaison took place: the spies “stayed
there” (2:1)�not “stayed with her,” which would imply something sexual.
Consider Samson, by contrast, who “saw a harlot, and went in to her” (Judg. 16:1).
The OT does not shrink from using such language; we just do not have any sexual
reference here. Rather, as observed above, the book of Joshua depicts Rahab as a
true God-fearer. Yes, such taverns in the ANE would draw people seeking sexual pleasure,
but this just does not apply to the Israelite spies, who visited there because it
was a public place where they could learn about the practical and military dispositions
of the area and could solicit a possible “fifth column” of support.[47]

(d) Israel’s warfare methods.

When we examine Israel’s warfare, we should consider a number of features that
help minimize the notion that Israel’s army consisted of bloodthirsty, maniacal
warmongers. First, the aftermath of Joshua’s victories are featherweight descriptions
in comparison to those found in the annals of the major empires of the ANE�whether
Hittite and Egyptian (second millennium), Aramaean, Assyrian, Babylonian, Persian,
or Greek (first millennium).[48]
Unlike Joshua’s brief, four-verse description of the treatment of the five kings
(10:24�27), the Neo-Assyrian annals of Asshurnasirpal (tenth century) take pleasure
in describing the atrocities which gruesomely describe the flaying of live victims,
the impaling of others on poles, and the heaping up of bodies for display.[49]

Second, a number of battles that Israel fought on the way to and within Canaan
were defensive: the Amalekites attacked the traveling Israelites (Exod. 17:8); the
Canaanite king of Arad attacked and captured some Israelites (Num. 21:1); the Amorite
king Sihon refused Israel’s peaceful overtures and attacked instead (Num. 21:21�32;
Deut. 2:26); Bashan’s king Og came out to meet Israel in battle (Num. 21:3; Deut.
3:1); Israel responded to Midian’s calculated attempts to lead Israel astray through
idolatry and immorality (Num. 31:2�3; cp. Num. 25 and 31:16); five kings attacked
Gibeon, which Joshua defended because of Israel’s peace pact with the Gibeonites
(Josh. 10:4). Furthermore, God prohibited Israel from conquering other
neighboring nations: (i) Moab and Ammon (Deut. 2:9, 19); (ii) Edom (Deut. 2:4; 23:7)�despite
the fact that Edom had earlier refused to assist the Israelites (Num. 20:14�21;
cp. Deut. 2:6�8).

Third, all sanctioned “Yahweh battles” beyond the time of Joshua were
defensive ones, including Joshua’s battle to defend Gibeon (Josh. 10�11).[50]
Of course, while certain offensive battles take place in Judges and under David
and beyond, these are not commended as ideal or exemplary.[51]

(e) “Driving them out.”

We should carefully note the language of “driving out” and “thrusting out” the
Canaanites (Exod. 23:28; Lev. 18:24; Num. 33:52: Deut. 6:19; 7:1; 9:4; 18:12; Josh.
10:28, 30, 32, 35, 37, 39; 11:11, 14) or “dispossessing” them of their land (Num.
21:32). “Driving out” is not at all the same as the “wiping out” or “destroying”
passages found in these same contexts. Upon examination, the former references are
three times as numerous as the latter.[52]
When a foreign army might pose a threat in the ANE, women and children would be
the first to remove themselves from harm’s way�not to mention the population at
large: “When a city is in danger of falling,” observes Goldingay, “people do not
simply wait there to be killed; they get out. . . . Only people who do not get out,
such as the city’s defenders, get killed.”[53]
Jeremiah 4:29 suggests this:

At the sound of the horseman and bowman every city flees;
They go into the thickets and climb among the rocks; Every city is forsaken, and
no man dwells in them.

Hess draws the following conclusions: “There is no indication in the text of
any specific noncombatants who were put to death.” Indeed, the “justified wars”
of Joshua “were against combatants.”[54]
We read in Joshua (and Judges) that, despite the “obliteration” language, there
are plenty of Canaanite inhabitants who are not “driven out” but rather are living
in the areas where Israel has settled. Joshua himself refers to “these [nations]
which remain among you” (Josh. 23:12�13; cp. Josh. 15:63; 16:10; 17:13; Judg. 2:10�13).
The process of driving them out would be a gradual one, as even Deuteronomy 7:22
anticipates and is reaffirmed in Judges 2:20�23.[55]

Israel’s occupation of Canaan involved not simply military activity, but also
infiltration and internal struggle.[56]
In my previous article, I note that the text of Deuteronomy 7:2�5, Joshua, and Judges
suggests that we have the language of (i) obliteration as well as (ii)
acknowledgment of Canaanites as future neighbors. Goldingay comments that
Israel knew how to read Torah: “It knew it was not to assume a literalistic understanding”
of destroying the Canaanites. That is, Moses did not mean for this to be taken literally.
Rather, as Goldingay notes, “Israel was to dispossess the Canaanites and destroy
their forms of religion and have nothing to do with them.” That is, Israel took
this “totally destroy” command metaphorically or hyperbolically�which reflected
the ANE language of bravado and exaggeration in warfare.[57]

To summarize, we should distinguish between two central aspects of the Canaanite
question. On the one hand, herem includes stereotypical language of “all”
and “young and old” and “man and woman”�even if women and children are not present.
So far as we can see, herem is carried out in particular military/combatant
settings (with “cities” and “kings”); this specific combatant scenario could well
apply in the Amalekite case (1 Sam. 15). In these limited settings, herem
is thoroughly carried out (involving even livestock [for example, 1 Sam. 15:9, 14])�though
it allows, and hopes for, exceptions (for example, Rahab). The sweeping language
which appears to involve only combatants is truly all-inclusive here. On the other
hand, evident in Deuteronomy�Judges is the clearly exaggerated ANE language of utter
obliteration and total destruction. These hyperbolic references to “totally destroy[ing]”
run on parallel tracks with regular mention of many remaining Canaanite inhabitants
after the “total destruction” (for example, Judg. 1). Additionally, we should take
seriously the many references of “driving out” the Canaanites, to clear away the
land for habitation, which does not require killing. Civilians would flee when their
military strongholds were destroyed and no longer capable of protecting them.

(7) Inefficient Means?

Morriston raises an “embarrassing” question: “Assuming that God’s desire to
destroy the Canaanite religion by destroying the Canaanites was a legitimate one,
why would He choose such an inefficient means of accomplishing this aim?” God could
have easily removed them from the scene and avoided this “spectacularly unsuccessful”
plan of allowing idolaters to remain in Israel’s midst. Wasn’t the point of killing
Canaanites to prevent Israel’s being pulled down spiritually and morally?

Too much theological weight should not be given to some efficiency criterion�that
God is the being than which nothing more efficient can be conceived! Indeed, what
theological reason compels us to assume that God must necessarily operate with maximal
Germanic efficiency? Just as God is not hot and bothered that a small planetary
speck would be home to all the universe’s inhabitants (while the rest of the cosmos
is uninhabited and uninhabitable), so God takes plenty of time and utilizes ostensibly
less-than-efficient means to accomplish his purposes. For example, he gets the ball
rolling with a barren, elderly couple�Abraham and Sarah�and chooses to work through
a stubborn and rebellious nation. Perhaps we should think in terms of sufficiency
rather than efficiency. In fact, this alleged embarrassment may actually
indicate historical reliability rather than legendary fabrication; perhaps we can
appeal to the “criterion of embarrassment” as an indicator of historicity/authenticity!

So why didn’t God make sure that none of the Canaanites was left to lead Israel
into idolatry? God was working through often-inefficient processes to accomplish
his salvation-historical ends, which did not require killing every last Canaanite,
but ensuring that they were sufficiently driven out so as not to be an
undermining spiritual and moral threat while Israel developed as a nation.[58]

Israel’s failure to drive out this threat and destroy Canaanite religion indeed
brought mixed results, and they paid for their compromises with an Assyrian captivity
of the northern kingdom and then a Babylonian captivity of the southern (for example,
2 Kings 17:7�41; 2 Chron. 36:15�21)�despite regular prophetic warnings and periodic
kingly reforms. The theological and moral threat of foreign religion, however, did
not so damage Israel as to eradicate its monotheism and covenantal awareness that
would emerge with greater force in the wake of the Babylonian captivity. By the
first century AD, a theological stage had been sufficiently set through the preservation
of Israel’s scriptures and national historical identity, the restoration of the
temple and cultus, heightened messianic expectations, dedication to monotheism,
and so on. Despite Israel’s compromises and rebellions over the centuries, Jesus’s
arrival on the scene came “in the fullness of time” (Gal. 4:4). “Efficient”? Not
self-evidently so. Sufficient? Certainly.

(8) Precedent-setting?

Rauser raises questions about the killing of the Canaanites as setting a negative,
brutal precedent for the nation of Israel. As a general response, one could cite
Goldingay here: “the fate of the Canaanites is about as illuminating a starting
point for understanding First Testament ethics as Gen 22 [Abraham’s binding of
Isaac] would be for an understanding of the family.”[59]

Here I would affirm Buijs’s nuanced discussion of the alleged harm of religion.
He makes the salient distinctions asking whether “religion is indeed the cause�or
even a cause�of harmful acts” and whether “religion is exclusively
harmful or at least more harmful than beneficial in its individual and
social consequences.”[60]

Beyond this, let me offer two more specific responses.

First, the killing of the Canaanites was sui generis, limited to this
particular period of time of Joshua and shortly thereafter, after whose time Israel’s
warranted battles (“Yahweh wars”) were defensive. That the (rhetorical)
language of obliteration was not intended to be precedent-setting is clear from
Deuteronomy 20, which applies herem to cities in the land (20:16�18)�not
cities far away. In the former case, we are not talking about genocide or ethnic
cleansing, but a kind of corporate capital punishment that was deliberately
limited in scope and restricted to a specific period of time.
Was Israel’s warfare in Canaan precedent-setting? In Goldingay’s words, “Saul
does not seek to devote the Philistines and David does not seek to devote the surrounding
peoples whom he did conquer. Neither Ephraim nor Judah took on Assyria, Babylon,
Persia, or the local equivalents of the Canaanites in the Second Temple period.”
He adds that Deuteronomy and Joshua do not set a pattern that “invites later Israel
to follow, or that later Israel does follow.”[61]

Second, what is puzzling is that professing Christians (during the Crusades,
for instance) inspired by the killing of the Canaanites to justify their actions
completely ignored Jesus’s own kingdom teaching.[62]
Yet Jesus had informed Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world. If My kingdom were
of this world, My servants would be fighting” (John 18:36). Again, “all those who
take up the sword shall perish by the sword” (Matt. 26:52). On the other hand, we
can confidently say that, precisely because of their commitment to Christ’s kingdom
not being of this world, the Amish and Mennonite people would most certainly not
appeal to Canaanite-killing passages to engage in atrocities. The difference is
that some professing Christians are far more obviously consistent in applying Jesus’s
teaching than others. Buijs’s point that we ought to distinguish the “revelatory
root of religion” from “its human appropriation in a religious tradition” is well-taken.[63]

(9) A Default Position (“Scenario 2”).

Readers will observe a slight shift in my approach to the Canaanite question,
thanks in large part to the further input of Richard Hess’s and John Goldingay’s
recent work. However, what if “Scenario 1” (above) fails? What if it turns out that
women and children actually were the explicit objects of herem
by Yahweh’s command�even if we allow for hyperbole in phrases such as “everything
that breathes”? I discuss the possibility of this alternative below.

(a) “Psychologically and spiritually shattering.”

Rauser and Morriston raise questions regarding the psychological damage done
to combatants who brutally kill women and children (for example, the My Lai massacre).
Now Rauser describes killing the Canaanites in Scenario 2 as a “morally praiseworthy”
act. Certain acts may be just (for example, a just war), but describing such involvement
as “morally praiseworthy” is misleading. As Confederate general Robert E. Lee affirmed,
“It is well that war is so terrible; otherwise we should grow too fond of it.”[64]
Rather, theologian John Stott’s wording regarding the killing of the Canaanites
is apropos: “It was a ghastly business; one shrinks from it in horror.”[65]
If babies were involved, surely this was a grim task.[66]
Yet the killing of the Canaanites was deliberately temporary and sui generis.
Furthermore, in the ANE, warfare was a way of life and a means of survival�a
situation in which combatant and noncombatant were not always distinguished. This
fact, in combination with the hardness of human hearts (Matt. 19:8) and human
moral bluntedness in the ANE,[67]
would likely render such actions considerably less psychologically damaging for
the Israelite soldier.

(b) The context of God’s goodness, enemy love, and overarching
purposes.

As mentioned earlier, God’s overarching goal is to bring blessing and salvation
to all the nations, including the Canaanites through Abraham (Gen. 12:3; 22:17�18;
cp. 28:13�14). This sweeping, outsider-oriented, universally-directed covenant is
utterly unique among ancient religious movements.[68]
Yes, for a specific, relatively short, and strategic period, God sought to establish
Israel in the land, simultaneously punishing a wicked people ripe for judgment.
During this time, God was certainly willing to preserve any who acknowledged his
evident lordship over the nations, which was very well known to the Canaanites (Josh.
2:8�11; 9:9�11, 24; cf. Exod. 15:14�17; Deut. 2:25). Even Israel’s sevenfold march
around[69]
Jericho, each circumambulation serving as an opportunity for Jericho to evade the
ban, was sadly matched by Jericho’s sevenfold refusal to relent and acknowledge
Yahweh’s rule.

Furthermore, God’s difficult command regarding the Canaanites as a limited,
unique salvation-historical situation is comparable to God’s difficult command
to Abraham in Genesis 22 (a passage Morriston mentions in connection with human
sacrifice, which we discussed earlier). Behind both of these harsh commands, however,
are the clear context of Yahweh’s loving intentions and faithful promises. In the
first, God has given Abraham the miracle child Isaac, through whom God has promised
to make Abraham the father of many. Previously, he saw God’s provision when he
reluctantly let Ishmael and Hagar go into the wilderness�with God reassuring Abraham
that Ishmael would live to become a great nation. Likewise, Abraham knew that God
would somehow fulfill his covenant promises through Isaac�even if it meant that
God would raise him from the dead. Thus Abraham informed his servants, “we will
worship, and then we will come back to you return” (Gen. 22:5 [NRSV]; cp. Heb. 11:19).[70]
With the second harsh command regarding the Canaanites, Yahweh has already promised
to bring blessing to all the families of the earth without exclusion (Gen. 12:1�3;
22:17�18). As previously observed, God is in the business of eventually turning
Israel’s enemies into his friends and incorporating them into his family. As Abraham
said of Isaac, it is as though ancient Israel could confidently say of its enemies
like the Assyrians, Egyptians, and Canaanites (Isa. 19:25; Matt. 15:22):  “we
will worship together” (cp. Isa. 2:3). So while we have troubling exceptions in
each of these scenarios, these should be set against the background of Yahweh’s
enemy-loving character and worldwide salvific purposes.

Similarly, though blameless yet severely afflicted, Job received no clear answer
to his questions, but he did receive assurances of God’s wisdom, which far surpasses
ours. He learned that God’s character is trustworthy and his presence sufficient,
even when we remain baffled in the face of unanswered questions.

In Jonah’s day, God did not punish the Ninevites�to the great disappointment
of Jonah, who knew that this is the sort of thing Yahweh does�he loves
his (and Israel’s) enemies: “I knew that You are a gracious and compassionate God,
slow to anger and abundant in lovingkindness, and one who relents concerning calamity”
(Jon. 4:2; cf. Exod. 34:6).

Jesus, who sees himself as the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets (Matt.
5:17), affirms that the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob is one who loves his enemies
and calls on us to imitate this complete love (Matt. 5:43�48). We even see God commanding
enemy-love in the OT�to show concern for the alien and stranger and enemy (for example,
Exod. 23:4). The “Canaanite exception” is a glaring one in the midst of many affirmations
of Yahweh’s lovingkindness and concern for his own enemies. To affirm Buijs’s
general point, we can say that Jesus himself does not view the killing of the Canaanites
to be an intrinsic tenet or permanent norm for Christians.

Scriptures attest to divine love, but also judgment: “Behold then the kindness
and severity of God” (Rom. 11:22). Paul Moser observes:

It would be a strange, defective God who didn’t pose a serious cosmic authority
problem for humans. Part of the status of being God, after all, is that
God has a unique authority, or lordship, over humans. Since we humans aren’t God,
the true God would have authority over us and would seek to correct our profoundly
selfish ways.[71]

Despite Morriston’s reference to C. S. Lewis’s “wise words” about God’s “gradual
and graded self-revelation,” he hardly negates Lewis’s assertion that “Aslan” is
not “safe.” Elsewhere, Lewis commends “the obstinacy of faith.” He asserts that
trust in a personal God (as opposed to a mere proposition) “could have no room to
grow except where there is also room for doubt.” Lewis goes so far as to say that
love involves trusting a friend beyond the evidence�even, at times, against such
evidence. He reminds us that we should give the benefit of the doubt to a friend,
even if the friend may display seemingly puzzling and uncharacteristic behavior.
For example, if a trusted friend pledges to meet us somewhere but fails to show
up, which of us “would not feel slightly ashamed if, one moment after we had given
him up, he arrived with a full explanation of his delay? We should feel that we
ought to have known him better.”[72]
Just so.

As with Job, the full picture is not always available. We are not necessarily
in the best cognitive position to discern God’s purposes.[73]
We may find ourselves left with a puzzling gap between what we clearly know of God
and what seems to be a harsh exception (assuming here that Scenario 1 is false).
Having tasted and seen that the Lord is good (Ps. 34:8), we should deal with such
questions in the context of a loving, compassionate, and just personal God who has
the long-term good of even his enemies in mind. Yet we have excellent reason for
thinking that Scenario 1 is correct and that we do not need to resort to the default
position.[74]

For references to this article,
click here.