So, we're about 3 weeks away from the close of the spring semester. Unless my mind completely shuts down before then, I will be able to say that I've reached the goal of teaching all my courses in Russian without major assistance from an oral translator (I did request one to correct me when my mistakes were really bad). This is a definite milestone and it definitely would not have been attained without the contributions of countless Russian-speaking language teachers, conversation partners, coworkers, preachers, congregants, supermarket and convenient store employees, willing-to-converse passersby, etc., not to mention all of the family members and supporters (financial and prayer) that make it possible for us to serve here in Ukraine. If you fit any of the above categories, I thank you from the depth of my being.
I should be encouraged by this, right? Well, I also recently attained another pedagogical milestone that seems to be taking the wind out of my Russian language sails. I actually taught something in my philosophy class last week that caused a student to respond, "and there's more proof that all blasphemies come from America." Last I checked, that kind of comment does not top the list of most-desired student reactions for most theological educators, at least not in our missions organization. Yes, there are countless reasons to disregard this student's comment. What I said wasn't that alarming and poses no major threat to any Evangelical tenets of the faith. Nonetheless, attaining this latter milestone at the same time as the former is definitely humbling and will help to ensure that I don't get all, you know, like that, about my long-awaited achievement of minimal fluency in Russian.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Eat That, Daddy!
If you give Dietrich a piece of paper and some crayons or, as pictured, a whiteboard and some markers, this is what you usually get ...
The other day, he was doing more of the above and I asked him if he wanted to go play a game in the living room. He did, but first wanted to finish up the masterpiece. As I watched his "creative chaos," I thought, "Hmmm, maybe it's time to work with Dietrich on some circles. He really should be able to draw something that could at least be recognized as an attempt at one." So, I sat down with him, intending to hold his hand around the marker and guide it while putting up a nice circle that would help him get used to the feeling. Just before doing that, however, I felt the urge to let him have a shot at it unassisted. "Dietrich, go ahead, try and draw a circle by yourself." Uh ...
Please understand, I'm not saying that Dietrich is doing something that other kids his age can't. I'm sure the above circle is standard 3.5-year-old fare. But it's definitely not what we're used to and it was certainly an occasion for paternal humiliation. Needless to say, Dietrich can humiliate me like that whenever he wants.
The other day, he was doing more of the above and I asked him if he wanted to go play a game in the living room. He did, but first wanted to finish up the masterpiece. As I watched his "creative chaos," I thought, "Hmmm, maybe it's time to work with Dietrich on some circles. He really should be able to draw something that could at least be recognized as an attempt at one." So, I sat down with him, intending to hold his hand around the marker and guide it while putting up a nice circle that would help him get used to the feeling. Just before doing that, however, I felt the urge to let him have a shot at it unassisted. "Dietrich, go ahead, try and draw a circle by yourself." Uh ...
Please understand, I'm not saying that Dietrich is doing something that other kids his age can't. I'm sure the above circle is standard 3.5-year-old fare. But it's definitely not what we're used to and it was certainly an occasion for paternal humiliation. Needless to say, Dietrich can humiliate me like that whenever he wants.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Illuminating the Abstract (An Anselmian Reflection)
Well, I made it through March, which was about as busy a period as we've had since we've been in Ukraine. Now I'm back to writing lectures for the philosophy class that I'm teaching. It's been an amazingly rewarding process, personally, to work through all of the introductory philosophical issues—I hope that I am making it somewhat rewarding for my students, as well.
The lecture I'm working on now addresses the arguments/proofs for God's existence. After giving a general intro and explaining what theistic proofs are, what we should expect from them and why they are valuable, I will take one argument and go deeper with it. Like a true novice, I'm choosing the hardest one for this project, i.e., the ontological argument. Here's my modification of Steven T. Davis' reconstruction of Anselm's version of the argument:
1. Things can exist in only 2 ways—in the mind and in reality.
2. The Greatest Conceivable Being (GCB) can possibly exist in reality, i.e., the GCB is not an impossible thing.
3. The GCB exists in the mind.
4. Whatever exists only in the mind and might possibly exist in reality might possibly be greater than it is (by existing both in the mind and in reality).
[5-8 attempts to disprove premise 5 by reductio ad absurdum]
5. The GCB exists only in the mind.
6. The GCB might be greater than it is.
7. The GCB is a being than which a greater is conceivable.
8. It is false that the GCB exists only in the mind.
9. Therefore, the GCB exists both in the mind and in reality.
Stephen T. Davis, God, Reason & Theistic Proofs, Reason & Religion series (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1997), 21-26.
Lots of people don't like the ontological argument; they think it's either too difficult and abstract or they think it is so baldly question-begging that it isn't worth considering or they think it is just false because you can't use it to prove the existence of anything else. But there are a good many throughout philosophical and theological history who have found it sound and successful. I'm in the latter group. But, at the same time, I'm also sympathetic to the view that it is amazingly complex, abstract and hard to grasp because I myself feel that way about it most of the time.
But in this latest wrestling match with the argument, after reading through some heavy philosophical stuff about it, I went back to the source. I re-read Anselm's, Proslogion, just to make sure that my understanding of the argument bears close resemblance of that of the author, since that is what I will be presenting to my students. What I found was striking.
When acknowledging that Anselm is the originator of the argument, philosophers will usually inform readers that the proof is presented as part of a prayer to God. The entire Proslogion is a prayer, in fact. Being a prayer, the ontological argument wasn't packaged in logical form when Anselm penned it. That's why any logical form of it is only ever a reconstruction, as is my modification of Davis' above. But this is usually where philosophers leave it. They mention that it was originally written as a prayer, which explains why there are so many different logical forms of Anselm's argument, and then they move on.
But what I realized with this reading is that the conclusion of the ontological argument is foundational for almost all of the other theological reflections made in the remainder of the book (the argument is presented in beginning chapters). Rather than using the ontological argument simply to prove the existence of the GCB and then moving on to discuss the attributes of the GCB, Anselm weaves the conclusion of the argument into his reflections on each attribute. God is necessary, unified and eternal because it is greater to be those things than to be contingent, complex and temporal for the GCB. In fleshing out the implications of the ontological argument, Anselm makes it as theologically and spiritually meaningful as it is philosophically groundbreaking. Below is an example of how Anselm uses the argument to show how God has to be good to the not-so-good.
"Surely in the deepest and most secret place of Thy goodness there lies hidden the source from which the river of mercy flows. For though Thou art wholly and supremely just, yet Thou art kind even to the evil, just because Thou art completely and supremely good. For Thou wouldest be less good, if Thou wert not kind to any evildoer. For he who is good both to the good and to the evil is better than he who is good only to the good, and he who is good to the wicked both by sparing them and by punishing them is better than he who is good only by punishing them. Thus Thou art merciful, just because Thou art wholly and supremely good. And though it might be apparent why Thou dost reward the good with good things and the evil with evil things, it is altogether wonderful that Thou, who art wholly just and lackest nothing, shouldest bestow good things on those who are evil and guilty in Thy sight. O the height of Thy goodness, O God! We see the ground of Thy mercy, but we do not see it fully. We see whence the stream flows, but we do not observe the source whence it is born. Out of the fullness of Thy goodness Thou art kind to those who sin against Thee, and still the reason lies hidden in the height of that same goodness. It is, of course, of Thy goodness that Thou rewardest the good with good things and the evil with evil things, but this seems to be demanded by the very nature of justice. But when Thou givest good things to the wicked, we know that the supremely good has willed to do this, and at the same time we marvel that the supremely just has been able to do it."
Anselm of Canterbury, Proslogion, chapter IX, in Eugene R. Fairweather, ed., A Scholastic Miscellany: Anselm to Ockham (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1956), 78-79.
Beautiful stuff. I will certainly be emphasizing to my students the fact that theistic proofs should lead to theologically joyous exaltation as much as they lead to philosophically rational justification. Thanks, Anselm. As you've been influential for a thousand years since you've passed, may you be influential for yet another thousand.
The lecture I'm working on now addresses the arguments/proofs for God's existence. After giving a general intro and explaining what theistic proofs are, what we should expect from them and why they are valuable, I will take one argument and go deeper with it. Like a true novice, I'm choosing the hardest one for this project, i.e., the ontological argument. Here's my modification of Steven T. Davis' reconstruction of Anselm's version of the argument:
1. Things can exist in only 2 ways—in the mind and in reality.
2. The Greatest Conceivable Being (GCB) can possibly exist in reality, i.e., the GCB is not an impossible thing.
3. The GCB exists in the mind.
4. Whatever exists only in the mind and might possibly exist in reality might possibly be greater than it is (by existing both in the mind and in reality).
[5-8 attempts to disprove premise 5 by reductio ad absurdum]
5. The GCB exists only in the mind.
6. The GCB might be greater than it is.
7. The GCB is a being than which a greater is conceivable.
8. It is false that the GCB exists only in the mind.
9. Therefore, the GCB exists both in the mind and in reality.
Stephen T. Davis, God, Reason & Theistic Proofs, Reason & Religion series (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1997), 21-26.
Lots of people don't like the ontological argument; they think it's either too difficult and abstract or they think it is so baldly question-begging that it isn't worth considering or they think it is just false because you can't use it to prove the existence of anything else. But there are a good many throughout philosophical and theological history who have found it sound and successful. I'm in the latter group. But, at the same time, I'm also sympathetic to the view that it is amazingly complex, abstract and hard to grasp because I myself feel that way about it most of the time.
But in this latest wrestling match with the argument, after reading through some heavy philosophical stuff about it, I went back to the source. I re-read Anselm's, Proslogion, just to make sure that my understanding of the argument bears close resemblance of that of the author, since that is what I will be presenting to my students. What I found was striking.
When acknowledging that Anselm is the originator of the argument, philosophers will usually inform readers that the proof is presented as part of a prayer to God. The entire Proslogion is a prayer, in fact. Being a prayer, the ontological argument wasn't packaged in logical form when Anselm penned it. That's why any logical form of it is only ever a reconstruction, as is my modification of Davis' above. But this is usually where philosophers leave it. They mention that it was originally written as a prayer, which explains why there are so many different logical forms of Anselm's argument, and then they move on.
But what I realized with this reading is that the conclusion of the ontological argument is foundational for almost all of the other theological reflections made in the remainder of the book (the argument is presented in beginning chapters). Rather than using the ontological argument simply to prove the existence of the GCB and then moving on to discuss the attributes of the GCB, Anselm weaves the conclusion of the argument into his reflections on each attribute. God is necessary, unified and eternal because it is greater to be those things than to be contingent, complex and temporal for the GCB. In fleshing out the implications of the ontological argument, Anselm makes it as theologically and spiritually meaningful as it is philosophically groundbreaking. Below is an example of how Anselm uses the argument to show how God has to be good to the not-so-good.
"Surely in the deepest and most secret place of Thy goodness there lies hidden the source from which the river of mercy flows. For though Thou art wholly and supremely just, yet Thou art kind even to the evil, just because Thou art completely and supremely good. For Thou wouldest be less good, if Thou wert not kind to any evildoer. For he who is good both to the good and to the evil is better than he who is good only to the good, and he who is good to the wicked both by sparing them and by punishing them is better than he who is good only by punishing them. Thus Thou art merciful, just because Thou art wholly and supremely good. And though it might be apparent why Thou dost reward the good with good things and the evil with evil things, it is altogether wonderful that Thou, who art wholly just and lackest nothing, shouldest bestow good things on those who are evil and guilty in Thy sight. O the height of Thy goodness, O God! We see the ground of Thy mercy, but we do not see it fully. We see whence the stream flows, but we do not observe the source whence it is born. Out of the fullness of Thy goodness Thou art kind to those who sin against Thee, and still the reason lies hidden in the height of that same goodness. It is, of course, of Thy goodness that Thou rewardest the good with good things and the evil with evil things, but this seems to be demanded by the very nature of justice. But when Thou givest good things to the wicked, we know that the supremely good has willed to do this, and at the same time we marvel that the supremely just has been able to do it."
Anselm of Canterbury, Proslogion, chapter IX, in Eugene R. Fairweather, ed., A Scholastic Miscellany: Anselm to Ockham (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1956), 78-79.
Beautiful stuff. I will certainly be emphasizing to my students the fact that theistic proofs should lead to theologically joyous exaltation as much as they lead to philosophically rational justification. Thanks, Anselm. As you've been influential for a thousand years since you've passed, may you be influential for yet another thousand.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Why I'm Not a Rock Star
When I woke up this morning, it interrupted a dream I was having. In that dream I was singing in a band. The sound was super cool, like a really good Flaming Lips song. But the words were s-t-u-p-i-d!!! So stupid, in fact, that any flicker of hope that I may have had about being in a band is now completely snuffed out. And now I present to you exhibit A:
"If you need a boat,
Don't steal a boat.
'Cuz if you steal a boat,
Someone's gonna steal your boat."
See, I told you so.
"If you need a boat,
Don't steal a boat.
'Cuz if you steal a boat,
Someone's gonna steal your boat."
See, I told you so.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
If Stranded On A Desert Island ...
Living half a world away, we're sometimes a little slow with American pop culture. While all of our friends were raving about The Office a few years ago, we didn't know what they were talking about. We've since come to love it, as well. We've now watched seasons 4, 5, 1, 2 and half of season 3, in that order.
In a more recent (for us) episode, everyone is stuck in the parking lot and a number of the employees are playing, "If stranded on a desert island ..." They started off with what 3 books each person would bring but had to move to movies due to the lack of literary depth in the office. In any case, when discussing books, Angela—the stereotypically conservative Evangelical of the group—lists the Bible and Rick Warren's The Purpose Driven Life. She refuses to list a third book. It's a really funny Office moment but, I feel the compulsion to make a list that does a little more justice to the Christian tradition. So, for the sake of a fairer representation of my faith and the faith of millions, here are the 3 books that I think any Christian should take with them if stranded on a desert island:
Augustine, The City of God
Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica
John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion
I've read each of these authors but only a little of the above titles. However, the history of Christian thought would be drastically different if not for these monumental works. So, for their historical import alone, I'd make room for them. However, they are also all amazingly lengthy and would keep a reader busy for a long time, and a long time is presumably what you have in this kind of situation. Lastly, they are well known for their spiritual, theological and philosophical depth and insight which would be especially important in this case. Hmmm, the more I think about it, the more I'd like to be stranded on a desert island for a while so that I can invest some time in these classics.
[Note: For the person wondering why in the world I didn't choose the Bible, there's no need to worry about my Evangelical commitments. I take it as a given that a Christian would bring a Bible with them. So, I'm fudging a little by choosing 3 since I'd have to make room for the Word of God. But maybe I could get one of those microscopic Bibles that they used to smuggle into the former Soviet Union. There's probably one around here somewhere.]
In a more recent (for us) episode, everyone is stuck in the parking lot and a number of the employees are playing, "If stranded on a desert island ..." They started off with what 3 books each person would bring but had to move to movies due to the lack of literary depth in the office. In any case, when discussing books, Angela—the stereotypically conservative Evangelical of the group—lists the Bible and Rick Warren's The Purpose Driven Life. She refuses to list a third book. It's a really funny Office moment but, I feel the compulsion to make a list that does a little more justice to the Christian tradition. So, for the sake of a fairer representation of my faith and the faith of millions, here are the 3 books that I think any Christian should take with them if stranded on a desert island:
Augustine, The City of God
Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica
John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion
I've read each of these authors but only a little of the above titles. However, the history of Christian thought would be drastically different if not for these monumental works. So, for their historical import alone, I'd make room for them. However, they are also all amazingly lengthy and would keep a reader busy for a long time, and a long time is presumably what you have in this kind of situation. Lastly, they are well known for their spiritual, theological and philosophical depth and insight which would be especially important in this case. Hmmm, the more I think about it, the more I'd like to be stranded on a desert island for a while so that I can invest some time in these classics.
[Note: For the person wondering why in the world I didn't choose the Bible, there's no need to worry about my Evangelical commitments. I take it as a given that a Christian would bring a Bible with them. So, I'm fudging a little by choosing 3 since I'd have to make room for the Word of God. But maybe I could get one of those microscopic Bibles that they used to smuggle into the former Soviet Union. There's probably one around here somewhere.]
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Good Press
Anthony Flew's conversion to theism from atheism is pretty well-known now and I made brief mentioned of it here, back when I was writing about the Craig-Hitchens debate. He (Flew) is very public and open about his conversion and still displays as much intellectual rigor as a theist as he did when an atheist. But this didn't keep Richard Dawkins from portraying Flew's conversion as the result of senility. Flew wrote quite the stinging (but apropos) response in the December '08 issue of First Things (yes, I'm that far behind). What I want to highlight here are Flew's comments about Biola University, my alma mater, former employer and current ministry partner in part of the work in which we are involved here in Ukraine. Here's what he had to say:
"In a monster footnote to what I am inclined to describe as a monster book— The God Delusion—Dawkins reproaches me for what he calls my ignominious decision to accept, in 2006, the Philip E. Johnson Award for Liberty and Truth. The awarding institution is Biola University in Los Angeles. Dawkins does not say outright that his objection to my decision is that Biola is a specifically Christian institution. He obviously assumes (but refrains from actually saying) that this is incompatible with producing first-class academic work—not a thesis that would be acceptable in either my own university of Oxford or in Harvard. ...
Finally, as to the suggestion that I have been used by Biola University: If the way I was welcomed by the students and the members of the faculty whom I met on my short stay in Biola amounted to being used, then I can only express my regret that at my age of eighty-five I cannot reasonably hope for another visit to this institution."
Way to go, Biola, and thanks for the more-than-kind words, Dr. Flew.
"In a monster footnote to what I am inclined to describe as a monster book— The God Delusion—Dawkins reproaches me for what he calls my ignominious decision to accept, in 2006, the Philip E. Johnson Award for Liberty and Truth. The awarding institution is Biola University in Los Angeles. Dawkins does not say outright that his objection to my decision is that Biola is a specifically Christian institution. He obviously assumes (but refrains from actually saying) that this is incompatible with producing first-class academic work—not a thesis that would be acceptable in either my own university of Oxford or in Harvard. ...
Finally, as to the suggestion that I have been used by Biola University: If the way I was welcomed by the students and the members of the faculty whom I met on my short stay in Biola amounted to being used, then I can only express my regret that at my age of eighty-five I cannot reasonably hope for another visit to this institution."
Way to go, Biola, and thanks for the more-than-kind words, Dr. Flew.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Philosophizin' 'Bout Jesus
In a few weeks I'll begin teaching a course called, Philosophy: Introduction & History. While excited and invigorated by all the philosophy I've been reading lately (yes, that puts me in rare category), I'm a little intimidated by this, having spent most of my graduate education focused on theology. My apologetics training and its association with and dependency on philosophy is the only reason why I even considered the idea of teaching a class like this. Nonetheless, it will be a tough first go (but the first go is always tough, right?). Hopefully, I can pass my enjoyment of philosophy on to my students, even if I don't do full justice to the grandeur of the content. And hopefully I'll get to teach the class in the future, honing my skills and teaching more Ukrainian Church leaders to love philosophy as much as I do.
In looking for some texts to use as I prepare my teaching material, I came across some recent stuff by Paul Moser, a Christian philosopher out of Loyola University in Chicago. I read a fabulous booklet by Moser a few years back on God's hiddenness and I know that he's one of the key players in getting Evangelical Christianity a place at the secular philosophical table. So, I asked for these books for Christmas. Well, I got 'em and I can't put 'em down. Moser is awesome and I can't recommend him more highly. He is unashamedly Evangelical when he writes, yet this doesn't minimize his philosophical rigor in the least. And for the believer skeptical of philosophy, as most of my Ukrainian students will likely be, Moser exemplifies how to engage the philosophical world without compromising the truths of Christianity in the least. Below are 3 poignant and powerful selections from his introductory essay to Jesus and Philosophy: New Essays, a collection edited by Moser.
On the Atonement:
"The Good News movement founded by Jesus offers a divine manifest-offering approach to divine-human atonement. According to its unique message, what is being made manifest is God's character of righteous and merciful love, and what is being offered, in agreement with that character, is lasting divine-human fellowship as a gracious divine gift on the basis of (a) the forgiveness manifested and offered via God's atoning sacrifice in Jesus and (b) God's resurrection of Jesus as Lord and Giver of God's Spirit. The manifestation of God's self-giving character in Jesus reveals the kind of God who is thereby offering lasting divine-human forgiveness and fellowship to humans. Although the death of Jesus can't bring about divine-human reconciliation by itself, it is presented, by Jesus, Paul and others, as supplying God's distinctive means of intended implementation of reconciliation via divine manifestation and offering. For the sake of actual divine-human reconciliation, according to Jesus and Paul, humans must receive the manifest-offering via grounded trust and obedience." (p. 8)
On the Greatest Commandment:
"These commands [to love God and neighbor], found in the Hebrew scriptures and in the Christian New Testament, give a priority ranking of what humans should love. They imply that at the very top of a ranking of what we humans love should be, first, God and, second, our neighbor (as well as ourselves). They thus imply that any opposing ranking is morally unacceptable. More specifically, they imply that human projects, including intellectual and philosophical projects, are acceptable only to the extent that they contribute to satisfying the divine love commands. ... Loving God and our neighbor requires eagerly serving God and our neighbor for their best interests. Characterized broadly, our eagerly serving God and our neighbor requires (a) our eagerly obeying God to the best of our ability and (b) our eagerly contributing, as far as we are able, to the life-sustaining needs of our neighbor. ... We humans, of course, have limited resources, in terms of time and energy for pursuing our projects. We thus must choose how to spend our time and energy in ways that pursue some projects and exclude others. If I eagerly choose projects that exclude my eagerly serving the life-sustaining needs of my neighbor (when I could have undertaken the latter), I thereby fail to love my neighbor. I also thereby fail to obey God's command, as represented by Jesus, to give priority to my eagerly serving the life-sustaining needs of my neighbor ... The lesson about failing to love applies directly to typical pursuit of philosophical questions. If my typical eager pursuit of philosophical questions blocks my eagerly serving the life-sustaining needs of my neighbor (when I could have undertaken the latter), I thereby fail to love my neighbor. I also fail then to obey the divine love command regarding my neighbor. In this case, my eager pursuit of philosophical questions will result in my failing to love God and my neighbor as God has commanded, at least in the commands summarized by Jesus. The failing would be a moral deficiency in serving God and my neighbor, owing to my choosing to serve other purposes instead, namely, philosophical purposes independent of loving God and others. Even if a philosophical purpose is truth-seeking, including seeking after truths about God and divine love, it could run afoul of the divine love commands. ... Not all truth-seeking, then, proceeds in agreement with the divine love commands. This lesson applies equally to philosophy, theology, and any other truth-seeking discipline." (p. 14-15)
On Jesus' Influence On Philosophy
"Philosophy in its normal mode, without being receptive to an authoritative divine challenge stemming from divine love commands, leaves humans in a discussion mode, short of an obedience mode under divine authority. ... As divinely appointed Lord, in contrast, Jesus commands humans to move, for their own good, to an obedience mode of existence relative to divine love commands. He thereby points humans to his perfectly loving Father who ultimately underwrites the divine love commands for humans, for the sake of divine-human fellowship. Accordingly, humans need to transcend a normal discussion mode, and thus philosophical discussion itself, to face with sincerity the personal Authority who commands what humans need: faithful obedience to the perfectly loving Giver of divine love commands, for the sake of divine-human fellowship. Such obedience of the heart, involving the conforming of a human will to divine will, is just the way humans are to truly receive the gift of divine redemptive love. Insofar as the discipline of philosophy becomes guided, in terms of pursuits, by that gift on offer, it becomes kerygma ["proclamation" or "message"]-oriented in virtue of becoming an enabler of the aforementioned Good News message of Jesus. According to Jesus, humans, including philosophers, were intended by God to live in faithful obedience to the divine love commands, whereby they enter into volitional fellowship with God and, on that basis, with others." (p. 17)
Paul K. Moser, "Introduction: Jesus and Philosophy," in Jesus and Philosophy: New Essays, edited by Paul K. Moser (New York: NY, Cambridge University Press, 2009), 1-23.
In looking for some texts to use as I prepare my teaching material, I came across some recent stuff by Paul Moser, a Christian philosopher out of Loyola University in Chicago. I read a fabulous booklet by Moser a few years back on God's hiddenness and I know that he's one of the key players in getting Evangelical Christianity a place at the secular philosophical table. So, I asked for these books for Christmas. Well, I got 'em and I can't put 'em down. Moser is awesome and I can't recommend him more highly. He is unashamedly Evangelical when he writes, yet this doesn't minimize his philosophical rigor in the least. And for the believer skeptical of philosophy, as most of my Ukrainian students will likely be, Moser exemplifies how to engage the philosophical world without compromising the truths of Christianity in the least. Below are 3 poignant and powerful selections from his introductory essay to Jesus and Philosophy: New Essays, a collection edited by Moser.
On the Atonement:
"The Good News movement founded by Jesus offers a divine manifest-offering approach to divine-human atonement. According to its unique message, what is being made manifest is God's character of righteous and merciful love, and what is being offered, in agreement with that character, is lasting divine-human fellowship as a gracious divine gift on the basis of (a) the forgiveness manifested and offered via God's atoning sacrifice in Jesus and (b) God's resurrection of Jesus as Lord and Giver of God's Spirit. The manifestation of God's self-giving character in Jesus reveals the kind of God who is thereby offering lasting divine-human forgiveness and fellowship to humans. Although the death of Jesus can't bring about divine-human reconciliation by itself, it is presented, by Jesus, Paul and others, as supplying God's distinctive means of intended implementation of reconciliation via divine manifestation and offering. For the sake of actual divine-human reconciliation, according to Jesus and Paul, humans must receive the manifest-offering via grounded trust and obedience." (p. 8)
On the Greatest Commandment:
"These commands [to love God and neighbor], found in the Hebrew scriptures and in the Christian New Testament, give a priority ranking of what humans should love. They imply that at the very top of a ranking of what we humans love should be, first, God and, second, our neighbor (as well as ourselves). They thus imply that any opposing ranking is morally unacceptable. More specifically, they imply that human projects, including intellectual and philosophical projects, are acceptable only to the extent that they contribute to satisfying the divine love commands. ... Loving God and our neighbor requires eagerly serving God and our neighbor for their best interests. Characterized broadly, our eagerly serving God and our neighbor requires (a) our eagerly obeying God to the best of our ability and (b) our eagerly contributing, as far as we are able, to the life-sustaining needs of our neighbor. ... We humans, of course, have limited resources, in terms of time and energy for pursuing our projects. We thus must choose how to spend our time and energy in ways that pursue some projects and exclude others. If I eagerly choose projects that exclude my eagerly serving the life-sustaining needs of my neighbor (when I could have undertaken the latter), I thereby fail to love my neighbor. I also thereby fail to obey God's command, as represented by Jesus, to give priority to my eagerly serving the life-sustaining needs of my neighbor ... The lesson about failing to love applies directly to typical pursuit of philosophical questions. If my typical eager pursuit of philosophical questions blocks my eagerly serving the life-sustaining needs of my neighbor (when I could have undertaken the latter), I thereby fail to love my neighbor. I also fail then to obey the divine love command regarding my neighbor. In this case, my eager pursuit of philosophical questions will result in my failing to love God and my neighbor as God has commanded, at least in the commands summarized by Jesus. The failing would be a moral deficiency in serving God and my neighbor, owing to my choosing to serve other purposes instead, namely, philosophical purposes independent of loving God and others. Even if a philosophical purpose is truth-seeking, including seeking after truths about God and divine love, it could run afoul of the divine love commands. ... Not all truth-seeking, then, proceeds in agreement with the divine love commands. This lesson applies equally to philosophy, theology, and any other truth-seeking discipline." (p. 14-15)
On Jesus' Influence On Philosophy
"Philosophy in its normal mode, without being receptive to an authoritative divine challenge stemming from divine love commands, leaves humans in a discussion mode, short of an obedience mode under divine authority. ... As divinely appointed Lord, in contrast, Jesus commands humans to move, for their own good, to an obedience mode of existence relative to divine love commands. He thereby points humans to his perfectly loving Father who ultimately underwrites the divine love commands for humans, for the sake of divine-human fellowship. Accordingly, humans need to transcend a normal discussion mode, and thus philosophical discussion itself, to face with sincerity the personal Authority who commands what humans need: faithful obedience to the perfectly loving Giver of divine love commands, for the sake of divine-human fellowship. Such obedience of the heart, involving the conforming of a human will to divine will, is just the way humans are to truly receive the gift of divine redemptive love. Insofar as the discipline of philosophy becomes guided, in terms of pursuits, by that gift on offer, it becomes kerygma ["proclamation" or "message"]-oriented in virtue of becoming an enabler of the aforementioned Good News message of Jesus. According to Jesus, humans, including philosophers, were intended by God to live in faithful obedience to the divine love commands, whereby they enter into volitional fellowship with God and, on that basis, with others." (p. 17)
Paul K. Moser, "Introduction: Jesus and Philosophy," in Jesus and Philosophy: New Essays, edited by Paul K. Moser (New York: NY, Cambridge University Press, 2009), 1-23.
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