As I mentioned in an earlier post, I picked up, Is Christianity Good for the World? A Debate, at the Hitchens-Craig debate last weekend. Hitchens' sparring partner in this little book is Douglas Wilson, a Christian pastor and prolific author. I can say that Wilson played the Hitchens game magnificently. He didn't let Hitchens get away with much and he didn't stick to a predetermined set of arguments the way Craig did in the debate (this is not a strong criticism of Craig, I just thought Craig could have come down a few notches to engage Hitchens on his terms). Wilson was forceful when he needed to be, humorous at all the appropriate times and he pushed Hitchens to answer questions that he couldn't. Since the two of them continue to appear together in various venues, it seems that Hitchens doesn't mind it when Christians take the gloves off. And not to make it sound like Wilson set his Christian love aside, he did clearly and winsomely invite Hitchens to consider Christianity as the best way to ground the truth and morality that he so clearly values. Here's one of my favorite (more pointed) moments in the book ...
"Christopher Hitchens argues carefully, but given atheism, I want him to justify his use of reason. If there is no God, what is truth? Christopher Hitchens displays great moral indignation, but, given atheism, I want him to justify that indignation. If there is no God, then who cares? And Christopher Hitchens writes as a very careful wordsmith, but given atheism, I want him to justify his vibrant and engaging prose. If there is no God, then yammer, yamber, yaw&^% ..." (p. 19)
But now I've interacted with Hitchens in three different ways (book, public debate and print debate) and I can safely say that I'm familiar with his thoughts and his style. He hates religion vehemently, he is extremely and offensively pejorative in print, kind but condescending in public and he has a wide—but limited—array talking points that he thinks no one can counter. He presents his talking points with an indiscernible order and doesn't seem to listen when those talking points are rebutted. He also rarely answers direct philosophical questions that are asked of him by the other side. He does offer evidence that the thoughtful Christian should consider but I don't think any of it is strong enough to raise any serious doubts about the Christian faith. So, I'm saying goodbye to Hitchens and will turn my attention to other philosophical and theological concerns. I'll close with the review entry for my annotated bibliography of Christian apologetics.
"Christopher Hitchens & Douglas Wilson, Is Christianity Good for the World? A Debate, Foreword by Jonah Goldberg (Moscow, ID: Canonpress, 2008).
As a key, if not the major player in the New Atheism movement, Christopher Hitchens and his influential ideas deserve to be engaged at many levels and in many formats. Fortunately, Hitchens is quite eager to participate in any and every format in order to promote the negative answer to the question posed in this book. Douglas Wilson argues the positive answer to the question, although neither of them stick to the point very consistently throughout the debate. Part of the problem is that Hitchens’ broader agenda is to vilify religion in general, the major point of his bestseller, god is not Great. Most of the claims he makes to Wilson are restatements of what he’s already said there. The other problem is that Wilson—a presuppositionalist—spends most of his time trying to show the absurdity of Hitchens’ positive statements about truth and morality, given atheism. But these problems show only that the book is poorly titled, not that the dialogue isn’t engaging and provocative (as anything involving Hitchens will be). Wilson carries the day, it seems, because Hitchens isn’t able to adequately answer Wilson’s questions, he merely dismisses them as unnecessary for establishing the basis of truth and morality. Wilson matches Hitchens’ sharp and sometimes biting literary style, not considering it inappropriate to be offensive to someone as offensive as Hitchens. This particular volley will not be the turning point in the broader match between theism and atheism, but it is worthy of consideration as a unique, accessible and witty exchange in the course of the game." (p. 12)
By the way, the conversation continues to rage in the comments of Doug Geivett's blog post about the Hitchens-Craig debate. There are over 100 comments now. Lots of atheists are showing up and Geivett is interacting them brilliantly and kindly.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Early Season Reflections
Josie, myself and a friend had the privilege of being present for Opening Day at Angel Stadium last night. It's been a while since we've been to a game—baseball is certainly not Ukraine's national past time—and wow, was it great. Not only was it fun to be back at the ballpark, the Angels also played some decent ball and came away with a win. Howie Kendrick had a hot bat, Joe Saunders pitched well for 6 plus innings and, for now, one day into the season, all is as it should be with my Halos. Hmmm, can we stop the season now, before we run out of healthy pitchers?
Monday, April 6, 2009
From Another (Read: Better) Angle
A while ago, after his visit to Kyiv, I recommended Doug Geivett's blog. Here's another recommendation for the same thing. Only this time, I'm recommending particularly his response to the Craig-Hitchens debate from Saturday night. I've given my thoughts in the comments to this post, but Dr. Geivett's thoughts are those of a trained philosopher. Obviously they carry a weight of authority that my thoughts don't. Not only that, he made some observations that I missed. If I were a trained philosopher, maybe I wouldn't have. It's just so tough down here in the minors! In any case, read and enjoy a real philosopher's take on the philosophy of this great debate.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Another Reason Not To Be an A's Fan
Although this news report makes it all sound outrageously funny, it sure would stink to have people driving around your neighborhood with whistle tips on their mufflers. I'm glad that this seems to be contained to Oakland and hasn't made its way to L.A.
The Bubb Rubb News Report
Because it's so comical, people have turned Bubb Rubb into an icon of sorts and have created some remixes that take out the news and leave us with Bubb Rubb in nothing but his woo-wooing glory.
A Bubb Rubb Remix
And if that wasn't enough, somebody made us a Bubb Rubb-Dukes of Hazzard clip that will leave your sides aching. I know that technology has too large of a role in our society but, with stuff like this coming out, it's hard not to overindulge.
The Bubb Rubb-Dukes of Hazzard Episode
The Bubb Rubb News Report
Because it's so comical, people have turned Bubb Rubb into an icon of sorts and have created some remixes that take out the news and leave us with Bubb Rubb in nothing but his woo-wooing glory.
A Bubb Rubb Remix
And if that wasn't enough, somebody made us a Bubb Rubb-Dukes of Hazzard clip that will leave your sides aching. I know that technology has too large of a role in our society but, with stuff like this coming out, it's hard not to overindulge.
The Bubb Rubb-Dukes of Hazzard Episode
Friday, April 3, 2009
Date and Debate Night or What Kind of a Guy is Christopher Hitchens?
Tomorrow night Josie, myself and another couple are going to dinner and then to a debate between William Lane Craig and Christopher Hitchens at Biola University. Josie has been referring to it as "Date and Debate" for weeks, which brings a little levity to what could be a rough night. I say that because I just finished Hitchens' God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything and I'm having a hard time believing that Hitchens is going to be able to behave civilly in a room with 2000 Evangelical Christians. I'll list just three general thoughts that lead me to belive that, if I were to meet Hitchens at a party, I'd reconsider whether or not I wanted to be there.
1. How not to win friends and influence people (The personal problems)
I can't say that I was ever bored while reading the book and I have no criticisms of Hitchens as a wordsmith. But, if I was trying to convert people away from religion and to an atheistic-humanistic secularism, I sure wouldn't call those I was trying to win over "stupid/moronic/backwards/repressive/oppressive/evil" on every page of my book. There are plenty of Christians who have to learn this lesson also but, as Hitchens is one of today's leading atheists, he should be able to reach out a little more and keep the ad hominems to a minimum. I've heard and read many William Lane Craig debates and can say that this will not be a problem for him. Evangelicalism doesn't have too many more winsome than Craig.
2. Is everything on the table? (The factual problems)
Gary Habermas of Liberty University addresses these issues much more thoroughly and effectively in a recent article for the Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society, so I don't need to do it here. Nevertheless, Hitchens makes some claims that, on their face, are so outrageously false (or misrepresentative) that I couldn't help but wonder about the truthfulness of the claims of which I didn't have any firsthand knowledge.
a. Hitchens says, "The contradictions and illiteracies of the New Testament have filled up many books by eminent scholars, and have never been explained by any Christian authority except in the feeblest terms of 'metaphor' and 'a Christ of faith.'" (p. 115) This claim can only come from someone who didn't actually ask any of Christianity's own "eminent scholars" for such explanations. My personal library alone—small as it is—has enough in it to provide reasonable answers to any of the claims that Hitchens raises in God is Not Great. I hope the general public is more investigative than he when asking serious questions about Christianity.
b. In a debate about the Resurrection of Jesus, the then-atheist Anthony Flew (who has recently renounced atheism for deism) made essentially the same following point as Hitchens. The latter phrased it this way, "exceptional claims demand exceptional evidence." (p. 143) I'm still thinking this through epistemologically, but I think I want to say that, depending on the claim, we don't necessarily need more evidence than is available, we just need the best possible explanation of the facts at hand. Hitchens says that the evidence for the Resurrection doesn't have nearly the evidence needed to justify belief in it. For a 2000-year-old event, the are quite a few known facts surrounding Jesus' supposed death, burial and the subsequent empty tomb. The issue is, given the facts at hand, whether or not the Resurrection is the best possible explanation. Hitchens is not off the hook by saying that there isn't enough evidence; he needs to offer an explanation of the facts that are there. Until he's done that, his dismissal of the case for the Resurrection is unwarranted. (My library also has plenty of material that offer reasonable explanations for the Resurrection of Jesus. Hitchens apparently didn't look at any of them either.)
c. After de-religionizing Martin Luther King, Jr., Hitchens makes the following claim about why it took so long to overcome slavery and racism in the United States, "The chance that someone's religious belief would cause him or her to take a stand against slavery and racism was statistically quite small. But the chance that someone's religious belief would cause him or her to uphold slavery and racism was statistically extremely high." (p. 180) It was, by Hitchens' telling, only once America became secular enough that it was able to eradicate slavery and marginalize racism. But given the Christian heritage of the U.S. and the robust possibility, logical consistency and modern reality of opposition to slavery and racism from a Christian worldview, Hitchens' claim falls flat. Supposed biblical justifications for slavery and racism have proved to be based on misunderstandings of the Bible rather than accurate reflections of Its teachings. Mistaking failures by those of a religious system for faults in the religion itself rarely leads to the proper conclusions.
3. Are we talking about apples or oranges? (The methodological problems)
Hitchens' main point is that all religion is bad. But, as he proceeds to make his case throughout 19 distinct chapters, he seems to jump to whatever point on the religious map he needs to in order to come up with a particular conclusion. One chapter will focus on Judaism and Hinduism while another will highlight Mormonism and Buddhism with the next honing in on Christianity and Islam. And he will talk of atrocities from a 3000-year-old incident in the same breath as a something from today's headlines. It's as though all religions are the same in the end and that any apparent differences in worldview are secondary to the fact that they all harm and hinder. It's a kind of reverse religious pluralism where, instead of all religions leading to God, all religions lead to evil. But if you are going to take religions seriously, you have to factor in the distinctives of each and how those distinctives disallow a melting pot approach to God (either positively or negatively). I'm not going to encourage Hitchens to write another book but, I think this one would have been more effective if he would have treated each religion individually and attempted to disprove each one. By loosely lumping them all together and not specifying his assaults he leaves gaping holes in his argument and his premise far from proven.
I'm on the side of religion so, of course, I'm not going to praise Hitchens for his work. He's made me think about some things but, more than that, he's upheld my confidence in the coherence, veracity and beauty of Christianity. I'm sure this wasn't his goal but I'll thank him anyway. I think the debate will be interesting tomorrow and I'm really looking forward to it. But I hope to see a more personable side to Hitchens than I have in God is Not Great. Not because I want his atheism to be more palatable—we score more points when he acts so unbecomingly—but because I want to see some proof that there is some humanity behind his "humanism."
1. How not to win friends and influence people (The personal problems)
I can't say that I was ever bored while reading the book and I have no criticisms of Hitchens as a wordsmith. But, if I was trying to convert people away from religion and to an atheistic-humanistic secularism, I sure wouldn't call those I was trying to win over "stupid/moronic/backwards/repressive/oppressive/evil" on every page of my book. There are plenty of Christians who have to learn this lesson also but, as Hitchens is one of today's leading atheists, he should be able to reach out a little more and keep the ad hominems to a minimum. I've heard and read many William Lane Craig debates and can say that this will not be a problem for him. Evangelicalism doesn't have too many more winsome than Craig.
2. Is everything on the table? (The factual problems)
Gary Habermas of Liberty University addresses these issues much more thoroughly and effectively in a recent article for the Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society, so I don't need to do it here. Nevertheless, Hitchens makes some claims that, on their face, are so outrageously false (or misrepresentative) that I couldn't help but wonder about the truthfulness of the claims of which I didn't have any firsthand knowledge.
a. Hitchens says, "The contradictions and illiteracies of the New Testament have filled up many books by eminent scholars, and have never been explained by any Christian authority except in the feeblest terms of 'metaphor' and 'a Christ of faith.'" (p. 115) This claim can only come from someone who didn't actually ask any of Christianity's own "eminent scholars" for such explanations. My personal library alone—small as it is—has enough in it to provide reasonable answers to any of the claims that Hitchens raises in God is Not Great. I hope the general public is more investigative than he when asking serious questions about Christianity.
b. In a debate about the Resurrection of Jesus, the then-atheist Anthony Flew (who has recently renounced atheism for deism) made essentially the same following point as Hitchens. The latter phrased it this way, "exceptional claims demand exceptional evidence." (p. 143) I'm still thinking this through epistemologically, but I think I want to say that, depending on the claim, we don't necessarily need more evidence than is available, we just need the best possible explanation of the facts at hand. Hitchens says that the evidence for the Resurrection doesn't have nearly the evidence needed to justify belief in it. For a 2000-year-old event, the are quite a few known facts surrounding Jesus' supposed death, burial and the subsequent empty tomb. The issue is, given the facts at hand, whether or not the Resurrection is the best possible explanation. Hitchens is not off the hook by saying that there isn't enough evidence; he needs to offer an explanation of the facts that are there. Until he's done that, his dismissal of the case for the Resurrection is unwarranted. (My library also has plenty of material that offer reasonable explanations for the Resurrection of Jesus. Hitchens apparently didn't look at any of them either.)
c. After de-religionizing Martin Luther King, Jr., Hitchens makes the following claim about why it took so long to overcome slavery and racism in the United States, "The chance that someone's religious belief would cause him or her to take a stand against slavery and racism was statistically quite small. But the chance that someone's religious belief would cause him or her to uphold slavery and racism was statistically extremely high." (p. 180) It was, by Hitchens' telling, only once America became secular enough that it was able to eradicate slavery and marginalize racism. But given the Christian heritage of the U.S. and the robust possibility, logical consistency and modern reality of opposition to slavery and racism from a Christian worldview, Hitchens' claim falls flat. Supposed biblical justifications for slavery and racism have proved to be based on misunderstandings of the Bible rather than accurate reflections of Its teachings. Mistaking failures by those of a religious system for faults in the religion itself rarely leads to the proper conclusions.
3. Are we talking about apples or oranges? (The methodological problems)
Hitchens' main point is that all religion is bad. But, as he proceeds to make his case throughout 19 distinct chapters, he seems to jump to whatever point on the religious map he needs to in order to come up with a particular conclusion. One chapter will focus on Judaism and Hinduism while another will highlight Mormonism and Buddhism with the next honing in on Christianity and Islam. And he will talk of atrocities from a 3000-year-old incident in the same breath as a something from today's headlines. It's as though all religions are the same in the end and that any apparent differences in worldview are secondary to the fact that they all harm and hinder. It's a kind of reverse religious pluralism where, instead of all religions leading to God, all religions lead to evil. But if you are going to take religions seriously, you have to factor in the distinctives of each and how those distinctives disallow a melting pot approach to God (either positively or negatively). I'm not going to encourage Hitchens to write another book but, I think this one would have been more effective if he would have treated each religion individually and attempted to disprove each one. By loosely lumping them all together and not specifying his assaults he leaves gaping holes in his argument and his premise far from proven.
I'm on the side of religion so, of course, I'm not going to praise Hitchens for his work. He's made me think about some things but, more than that, he's upheld my confidence in the coherence, veracity and beauty of Christianity. I'm sure this wasn't his goal but I'll thank him anyway. I think the debate will be interesting tomorrow and I'm really looking forward to it. But I hope to see a more personable side to Hitchens than I have in God is Not Great. Not because I want his atheism to be more palatable—we score more points when he acts so unbecomingly—but because I want to see some proof that there is some humanity behind his "humanism."
Thursday, March 19, 2009
One of the Worst Analogies Ever
For Christmas, my father-in-law got me half an iPod. After ponying up for the other half, I discovered the wonderful world of podcasts. Veritas Forum's and William Lane Craig's Reasonable Faith podcasts are at the top of my list but, thanks to a friend's recommendation, I've discovered the oddly captivating personality of Maxie Burch. Burch is the Associate Pastor for Faith Development at North Phoenix Baptist Church. Holding a PhD in history, he does a lot of teaching at NPBC on Church history and historical theology. He's got about 30 lectures or so on iTunes and I'm slowly working my way through them. He's passionate and brings new perspectives to some old theological questions. And while I reject some of his presuppositions, his take on certain details and some of his conclusions, I welcome his attempts to bring theology to the local Church and to get all believers thinking deeply about their faith and about the God of their faith.
But today he went too far. I was listening to his introductory lecture (because I haven't been doing so in order) when he gave the wise admonition that we should read theology broadly while, at the same time, being discerning about what we appropriate into our own belief systems. I wholeheartedly endorse such an approach to theology but I absolutely reject his analogy:
"Here's my rule of thumb for theology. You do theology like you eat fish. You eat the meat and spit out the bones. Part of the reason for a course like this is, in your own heart and mind, trying to identify for you what the bones are. But it's not a good rule of thumb to never eat for fear that there are bones. There's a lot of good stuff out there to eat, it's just a matter of figuring out how to manage the bones."
Absolutely disgusting! If I did theology like I eat fish, I'd be out of a job. I agree that it's not a good rule of thumb to never eat fish for fear that there are bones. But it is a good rule of thumb to never eat fish since fish are gross. I get his point, of course, but wow, he certainly achieved the opposite objective with me than I'm sure he was intending. Thanks for the advice, Maxie, but, next time, pick a more tasty analogy.
But today he went too far. I was listening to his introductory lecture (because I haven't been doing so in order) when he gave the wise admonition that we should read theology broadly while, at the same time, being discerning about what we appropriate into our own belief systems. I wholeheartedly endorse such an approach to theology but I absolutely reject his analogy:
"Here's my rule of thumb for theology. You do theology like you eat fish. You eat the meat and spit out the bones. Part of the reason for a course like this is, in your own heart and mind, trying to identify for you what the bones are. But it's not a good rule of thumb to never eat for fear that there are bones. There's a lot of good stuff out there to eat, it's just a matter of figuring out how to manage the bones."
Absolutely disgusting! If I did theology like I eat fish, I'd be out of a job. I agree that it's not a good rule of thumb to never eat fish for fear that there are bones. But it is a good rule of thumb to never eat fish since fish are gross. I get his point, of course, but wow, he certainly achieved the opposite objective with me than I'm sure he was intending. Thanks for the advice, Maxie, but, next time, pick a more tasty analogy.
Monday, March 16, 2009
I’ll Have an Order of History, Hold the Theology
It took me 5 of 7 books, but I finally figured out what makes me uncomfortable about Thomas Cahill. When he sticks to history, which his works primarily address, he is superb. I read him ravenously because of this. But when he delves into theology, his thinking is really convoluted. That’s why I liked his book about Jesus and the New Testament much less than his book about the ancient Greeks. Because the Greeks didn’t believe in the Judeo-Christian God, Cahill didn’t talk much about Christian theology and I could take in the history with curiosity and enjoyment. And his discussions about the theology of the Jews were so broad that he didn’t give himself the opportunity to make any mistakes of particularity. He dealt solely with how the Jews stood out in their ancient near-eastern context and with how they radically changed the world as we know it. And when he wrote about the Irish and how they saved civilization, he rarely brought up theology and focused on how Celtic Christianity upheld culture while the rest of Europe was being deculturalized by the barbarians. Cahill is a superb historian for the uninitiated, like me, but he’s a horrible theologian for the person who knows even just a little bit of theology. That makes him dangerous for the non-theologian since he can so easily lead someone into wrongheaded theological thought.
The book I just finished, The Mystery of the Middle Ages: And the Beginning of the Modern World, fits the above description exactly. It’s a book about the influence that the Middle Ages have had on western culture, and you can’t do that without discussing theology a great deal. Again, his history is great, especially when he is talking about all of the things that our culture has that it wouldn’t if there had been no middle ages. He helps to correct the popular belief that the Church was only evil during these times and that the western world would have reached enlightenment sooner if those angry, conservative, fundamentalistic, repressive and anti-intellectual Christians hadn’t been in charge of things. What Francis of Assisi did for social justice, what Hildegard of Bingen did for women’s spiritual equality, what Dante did for public moral discourse, and what Thomas Aquinas and Roger Bacon did for science are all trumpeted boldly in this work. For these things Cahill is to be praised and the book should be (and has been) widely read.
But Cahill makes theological blunders that devalue the work significantly. I’m not a historical theologian but I play one on TV (actually, depending on how the chips fall, I may try to get a PhD in historical theology which would give me a bit more authority here). That being the case, I know enough to say that if you put Peter Abelard on a scale with Anselm of Canterbury, Anselm is going to carry more historical weight. I’m not saying that Abelard is insignificant, I’m just saying that if you’re going to give him 50 pages of press, you’d better at least mention Anselm. Anselm’s work on the atoning death of Christ revolutionized the discussion and planted the seeds for the revolution of the Reformation. And his ontological argument for the existence of God has been discussed for close to a millennium. Abelard’s work was discussed greatly for several centuries but he is now remembered more for his tragic romance with Héloïse than for his theological contributions. Cahill’s perspective leads to the exact opposite conclusion.
Another theologically atrocious claim by Cahill, also made in his discussions of Abelard, concerns the current debate about the doctrine of the atonement. I’ll let him speak for himself here:
“And though the idea that Christ died to repay his Father for human sin is still a favorite theory of many (especially evangelical) Christians, it is a doctrine no one can make logical sense of, for, like the Calvinist theory of Election, it necessitates a sort of voraciously pagan Father God steeped in cruelty and, in the case of Jesus’s horrific death, his son’s blood.” (p. 199)
This little chunk of text is filled with enough theological confusion to write an essay on, let alone a simple paragraph, but I’ll stay short. First, to compare the Calvinist theory of election to the penal substitutionary view of the atonement is laughable. The latter is embraced by evangelicals of all shapes and sizes, while the former is limited to a particular theological system. Secondly, thousands of pages have been written in just the past few decades on such a view of the atonement and they have quite ably “made logical sense” of it. Here’s just one example. Finally, to say that such a view “necessitates a sort of voraciously pagan Father God …” can only come from someone who hasn’t thought about the doctrine all that much. To make the claims Cahill does without at all mentioning the holiness of God and what sin’s violation of it might require for man’s reconciliation is theologically shallow, unfortunate and irresponsible.
So, while I recommend Cahill’s newest book highly, just like his others, I do so with the strongest of theological cautions. His history is intriguing, as always. He’s got great new stuff on some well-known historical figures and he introduces the reader to some lesser-known folks that we should be aware of. But don’t buy his theology. It’s not only misrepresentative in certain historical respects, it’s misleading as far as the Christian worldview is concerned. Feast on the historical meat but go somewhere else for your theological dessert.
The book I just finished, The Mystery of the Middle Ages: And the Beginning of the Modern World, fits the above description exactly. It’s a book about the influence that the Middle Ages have had on western culture, and you can’t do that without discussing theology a great deal. Again, his history is great, especially when he is talking about all of the things that our culture has that it wouldn’t if there had been no middle ages. He helps to correct the popular belief that the Church was only evil during these times and that the western world would have reached enlightenment sooner if those angry, conservative, fundamentalistic, repressive and anti-intellectual Christians hadn’t been in charge of things. What Francis of Assisi did for social justice, what Hildegard of Bingen did for women’s spiritual equality, what Dante did for public moral discourse, and what Thomas Aquinas and Roger Bacon did for science are all trumpeted boldly in this work. For these things Cahill is to be praised and the book should be (and has been) widely read.
But Cahill makes theological blunders that devalue the work significantly. I’m not a historical theologian but I play one on TV (actually, depending on how the chips fall, I may try to get a PhD in historical theology which would give me a bit more authority here). That being the case, I know enough to say that if you put Peter Abelard on a scale with Anselm of Canterbury, Anselm is going to carry more historical weight. I’m not saying that Abelard is insignificant, I’m just saying that if you’re going to give him 50 pages of press, you’d better at least mention Anselm. Anselm’s work on the atoning death of Christ revolutionized the discussion and planted the seeds for the revolution of the Reformation. And his ontological argument for the existence of God has been discussed for close to a millennium. Abelard’s work was discussed greatly for several centuries but he is now remembered more for his tragic romance with Héloïse than for his theological contributions. Cahill’s perspective leads to the exact opposite conclusion.
Another theologically atrocious claim by Cahill, also made in his discussions of Abelard, concerns the current debate about the doctrine of the atonement. I’ll let him speak for himself here:
“And though the idea that Christ died to repay his Father for human sin is still a favorite theory of many (especially evangelical) Christians, it is a doctrine no one can make logical sense of, for, like the Calvinist theory of Election, it necessitates a sort of voraciously pagan Father God steeped in cruelty and, in the case of Jesus’s horrific death, his son’s blood.” (p. 199)
This little chunk of text is filled with enough theological confusion to write an essay on, let alone a simple paragraph, but I’ll stay short. First, to compare the Calvinist theory of election to the penal substitutionary view of the atonement is laughable. The latter is embraced by evangelicals of all shapes and sizes, while the former is limited to a particular theological system. Secondly, thousands of pages have been written in just the past few decades on such a view of the atonement and they have quite ably “made logical sense” of it. Here’s just one example. Finally, to say that such a view “necessitates a sort of voraciously pagan Father God …” can only come from someone who hasn’t thought about the doctrine all that much. To make the claims Cahill does without at all mentioning the holiness of God and what sin’s violation of it might require for man’s reconciliation is theologically shallow, unfortunate and irresponsible.
So, while I recommend Cahill’s newest book highly, just like his others, I do so with the strongest of theological cautions. His history is intriguing, as always. He’s got great new stuff on some well-known historical figures and he introduces the reader to some lesser-known folks that we should be aware of. But don’t buy his theology. It’s not only misrepresentative in certain historical respects, it’s misleading as far as the Christian worldview is concerned. Feast on the historical meat but go somewhere else for your theological dessert.
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