The Laws of Church Dynamics

The Laws of Church Dynamics

I. Ecumenical movements are good at dialogue but bad at action.

I am reading Metaxas' book on Bonhoeffer, and currently Bonhoeffer's trying to convince the ecumenical movement to speak out against the Reich church. It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion. To paraphrase Thurber, falling back on ecumenical movements when times are tough is "very much like falling back full-length on a kit of carpenter's tools."

II. A church's ability to hold onto the strengths of its tradition is inversely proportional to the ability to see the strengths of other traditions.

The same wall needed to hold back the eroding waves of culture obscures what the other branches of the church are up to. This tends to result in ignorance and even suspicion of other traditions.  (Of course, it need not, and there are always those open to learn from other traditions.) 

It's sadly impractical in this culture to require adult Christians spend time in more than one tradition. 

III. It's impossible to use creeds and confessions to protect against heresy without elevating them to the level of Scripture.

If the creeds are able to serve as a correction, they must be able to decide between different readings of Scripture, and to do that, they must be able to stand over Scripture and serve as referee, much the same as other passages of Scripture are meant to do. I have spent most of my life in the Episcopal Church and the Christian Reformed Church.  For all their differences, in both churches their creeds (Apostles', etc. for the Episcopal Church, Dordt, Belgian and Heidelberg for the CRC) are functionally at par with Scripture. In the CRC this means that no reading of Scripture can ever contradict the creeds. In the Episcopal church where from time to time you run across an unfortunate priest who has lost a belief in the physicality of the resurrection (and thereby abandoned the creeds), it only means that he has also abandoned Scripture.

In fairness, I should point out that most serious Christians in credal traditions would disagree.

Churches without creeds shouldn't be smug. Creeds do serve a role, despite their dangers. The creed follows the sermon in Episcopal liturgy for a reason: no matter what the priest just said, the congregation is reminded of the divinity of Christ and his resurrection from the dead. 

IV. The more competent the clergy, the less trained and equipped the laity.

This is not to say that the less competent the clergy the more capable the laity--though that may happen at times.

Paul, in the pastorals, pointed out the importance of qualified elders and deacons. At the time, synagogue leaders were not fully supported by their congregations, but had "day jobs" as well. Over time both adopted something closer to the priesthood found in pagan churches, by establishing a full-time trained clergy. 

If you have been in churches without seminary-trained clergy you know there's some value to a formal seminary education. 

However, if you are the parish priest or church pastor, you may quickly think that training your flock in all the things you learned is like a dentist training his patients to fill their own cavities. The simplest equilibrium is the one which has dominated the past 2,000 years of church history: a weakened laity under the direction of a strong clergy.

This may not seem fair to the clergy who will tell you that their flocks aren't clambering for more training. William Willimon among others has eloquently defended the value of the pastorate. The traditional way can't be all wrong, right? [2]

Trouble is, that means there's a single person on which everything depends. It also means the laity are less equipped for ministry than they ought to be. This is easily demonstrated by asking what fraction of your church's council, vestry, etc. is well versed in Scripture. 

What's my counter-example? Check out Xenos Christian Fellowship, which has a central structure surrounded by a huge network of home churches, each of which survives (many of which thrive) without professional clergy. Their leaders are required to take at least two (?) years of training courses. How many council/vestry members can say they've done the same?

V. Churches have a finite shelf life: all churches eventually decay from the inside out and dwindle, disband, or become apostate.[1]

There are many factors which contribute to this. Multigenerational churches tend to become dynastic, and when the church contains your whole family it's very hard to make the church your new family, hating mothers and brothers for the sake of the kingdom.

The more you have to lose, the harder is it to give it up. A church which has been alive for centuries feels like a treasure to be protected more than a tool to be used for the kingdom. 

If you think your church is suffering from stagnation what should you do? It's a question of balance. Churches do experience revivals. But it's possible to spend too much time helping breathe life into your church, at the expense of other kingdom work.

I actually find Law V encouraging. In a roundabout way it reminds me that while one church declines (shrinks or acculturates) the Spirit is nevertheless at work elsewhere. This is the parable of the wedding feast, where the servants scour the hedgerows for guests. God is throwing a party, and when God throws a party, you can bet the hall will be full, of people and surprises.

VI. The Holy Spirit will eventually form a remnant of true believers within any apostate church.

This is Ezekiel's dry bones. Time and again this has happened. The mainline charismatic movement is a wonderful example. The seed will eventually find fertile soil in the hearts of those who recognize the shepherd's voice and are willing to use their talents (and minas) to give all for the pearl of great price hidden in the field. 

Seriously, of all the Laws above, this is the greatest hope: For all the Church's flaws and weaknesses, God has chosen this Body as the vessel for his Spirit. And God knows what he's doing.

I think I managed to offend everybody. What laws would you add?

* * *

[1] Walls describes how this has worked on a global scale--the centroid of the Church moving from the Roman Empire to Europe and most recently to Africa and Asia. I am thinking on a smaller scale. I have heard of research showing that the church always becomes more like the culture over time (certainly never the other way around).  I would love to see those data.

[2] The past 2,000 years has also seen predominantly mono-ethnic churches, but that's clearly not the NT pattern. Not to say you can't serve God the way it's been done historically. You can also do ministry in mono-racial churches, but thank God that some churches feel a higher call. 

(Image credit: http://pinterest.com/pin/415386765600731859/)

Seeing the unseen

Last fall I was reading the Bible with my son when we came across the account of the Garasene demoniac. This naturally led to questions about demons. I assured Sam they are real, but visible encounters with them in the U.S. are rare. In fact, most people here believe they don't exist.

I suggested Sam not bring up demons at school. I might as well have cautioned him against mentioning demons at church. Even those Christians who agree to belief in a devil will look askance at anyone who spends time talking about him. Bring up demon possession and you will certainly get some strange looks.

Americans enjoy a good demon possession movie; a new one with a Jewish exorcist is due out soon [1]. But despite wide-spread belief in God, we generally don’t believe in demons. It’s hard to be critical of this, given that most of us have had no direct experience to support their existence. We are children of the Enlightenment, and (with 19^th-century Biblical scholars like Rudolf Bultmann) we tend not to believe what we don’t see.

A recent paper by Craig Keener [2] turns this logic on its head. In it, Keener surveys anthropological data concerning modern spirit possession phenomena. Anthropologists have spent a good deal of time studying possession, because it is wide-spread. In the words of an anthropologist quoted in the article, to deny demon possession as a phenomenon is the “anthropological equivalent of ‘being a flat-earther’”. It's widely enough attested in ethnographies that of 488 societies surveyed by specialist Erika Bourguignon, 74% had spirit-possession beliefs. While it is not commonly found in the West, it is found in “a wide variety of societies in most regions of the world, among them Africa…, the Middle East, Asia, the Pacific, and the Americas” [3]. Furthermore, in those societies it is not necessarily reserved for the lunatic fringe. For instance, Keener writes, “…in many African countries a third of Christians claim to have witnessed exorcisms, and in some that figure rises to roughly half (Uganda, Mozambique), 65 percent (Ghana), or 74 percent (Ethiopia)” [4]. Keener writes, “Generally when I have asked educated persons from Africa and many other parts of the Majority World whether they believed in the reality of spirits, occult activity, and the like, their response has been, ‘Of course,’ sometimes with the caveat that they are careful with whom they discuss such matters, especially among skeptical Westerners.” [5]

What do we mean by “spirit possession”? From the anthropologists’ perspective, it’s an altered state of consciousness which the local culture describes as due to control by an external spirit. In some cases ritual is used to bring it about, as in the Yoruba culture in Nigeria, where a ceremony with drums is used to induce a trance state, allowing the shaman to heal, curse, predict the future, etc. Not all who experience what might be labeled possession seek it for their own ends, however. Dennis McCallum, for instance, related the following experience:

When I was preaching at a village church in India, an elderly woman suddenly began to cry out and gesticulate in an unnatural way. I asked my translator what she was saying, and he translated, “I am more powerful than any of you! She has been mine for thirty-five years! There is nothing you can do!” Four men carried her out of the meeting to a nearby hut with a covered front porch where they prayed over her. Amazed, I asked if we shouldn’t stop and pray for her, but the other Christians made it clear they wanted me to continue with my teaching. They did not seem surprised by the experience. [6]

 In some cases it appears to be tied to a pattern of occult practice. The spectrum of possession practices and experiences is simply too broad to describe here. Importantly, modern possession includes phenomena similar to those found in the New Testament.

Anthropologists themselves have historically sought to sympathetically understand a culture while retaining scientific objectivity. In recent years, though, some have gone beyond this. As Keener writes,

One obvious example of this phenomenon is the noted anthropologist Edith Turner, who describes her gradual transformation from skeptical observer to convinced observer and finally participant, now rejecting her former stance as cultural imperialism. In 1980, she and her husband, Victor Turner, were leading some students at New York University in some rituals addressed to Yoruba deities, with drumming and songs; right there a street theater director went into a trance and made accurate predictions afterward. The Turners had not expected the ritual to function this way outside its original context. [7]

Turner has written extensively since on the reality of spirits. While they are by far in the minority, Keener gives other examples as well of academics thus persuaded. Since Westerners generally do not believe in the reality of spirit possession, it is noteworthy that a even small number of those academics who make a living studying it have become convinced of its reality.

A mediæval illustration of Jesus 
healing the Gerasene demonaic

Even Christians who accept belief in spiritual beings may be wary of mistaking supernatural affliction for personality disorders, and the damage which a misdiagnosis could cause. Indeed, some cases which are described as possession may not be the result of psychosis, but rather heightened suggestibility due to cultural pressure and inculcation. But the weight of data forbids us from dismissing out of hand demon possession as a real phenomenon, especially given the Biblical witness. The data beg the question, though: If demon possession is real, why isn’t it found in the West? Its societal correlates suggest some possible answers. Quoting Keener again,

Increase in occurrences of possession often accompany dramatic changes in society. Even in the nineteenth century, observers noted that ‘cases of possession are less frequent in peaceful times, and more frequent in times of civil commotion; also less frequent in prosperous families’ and ‘among educated people.’ Possession without a trance is more common in hunter-gatherer societies; increasing societal stratification and complexity increases the likelihood of added trance states…Including ecstatic Christian experiences in her analysis, Bourguignon suggests that possession trance is most common among the more marginalized members of a society; groups that once experienced it, such as early Methodists, that have now become respectable are far less likely to display it. It often appears among those marginalized from other means of power in their society, especially women, although this pattern varies from one society to another. [8]

Since possession gives power to the powerless, albeit at a price, it’s not surprising it’s found globally more among those lacking power, and in unstable societies. The West, being more stable and powerful, would tend not to attract this sort of phenomenon. Westerners, with their post-Enlightenment culture, are also less likely to become involved in cult activity, with its ties to spirit possession. Many have also wondered if it might represent a larger demonic strategy, in which supernatural demonic aggression in the West is deliberately covert to encourage materialistic and atheistic religious-philosophical beliefs [9].

Let’s say, then, that some fraction of spirit possession phenomena represent actual demon possession. What are the implications? Keener quotes the famous Chinese writer Watchman Nee, saying “one Chinese church leader of a previous generation reproved Western critics with the observation that their theological hairsplitting would benefit them little in his country ‘if when the need arose you could not cast out a demon.’” [10] Still, a Westerner might be justified in regarding this as irrelevant if it doesn’t happen in his or her own back yard [11]. McCallum argues that the relative lack of guidance on exorcism in the epistles indicates that it is not intended to play a central role in the lives of believers. It’s one thing to have a fire extinguisher on hand and in working order; it’s another to use it every time you see a light.

One day when Sam is much older, I will tell him about these data. What would it look like for him to take seriously the biblical view that the earth is populated not just by humans, but also by a species of spiritual creatures which, while generally invisible, can exert influence on the physical world? There probably won't be much assistance for him from the pulpit--when was the last time you heard a sermon on spiritual warfare, or heard a prayer in a church service aimed at resisting the enemy? [12] He may not feel the need to bone up on exorcism techniques [13], but given the data described by Keener on spiritual activity we surely can't blame him for feeling some curiosity about Satan's covert (i.e. non-possession) tactics [14]. If the prevailing attitude in the West remains the same, he may be one of the few in his church who does.

* * *

[1] The Possession (2012).

[2] “Spirit Possession as a Cross-cultural Experience”, from the Bulletin for Biblical Research (20, 215; 2010). This work is expanded upon in an appendix of Miracles, Vol. 2 (Baker Academic, 2011).

[3] Miracles, 792.

[4] Miracles, 813.

[5] Miracles, 837.

[6] Satan and his Kingdom (Bethany, 2009), 197.

[7] Miracles, 830.

[8] Miracles, 824-25.

[9] E.g. McCallum, ibid., 185. A further theory is that overt spiritual attack only occurs on the missions front.  Keener notes a similar correlation.

[10] Miracles, 835.

[11] Note, however, this article in the Utne Reader describing a recent increase in interest in exorcism in the Catholic Church.

[12] We currently attend a Christian Reformed church. In the Episcopal, American Baptist and Evangelical Free churches I have attended I can’t recall even one sermon on this topic. Certainly other churches don’t have this blind spot.

[13] Though if you need to, see McCallum, ibid., ch. 17, or Spiritual Gifts in the Local Church (Bethany House, 1987), 198ff, by Anglican bishop David Pytches, both of which offer considerably more information than the single page in the Episcopal Book of Occasional Services, 2003, which simply directs those in need to visit the local bishop. (We can only hope the bishop has more in hand than The Book of Occasional Services.)

[14] This is too large a topic to address here, though a good place to start is Ephesians 6. A more thorough exposition of the topic is the subject of McCallum's book.

The first image is a detail from Hieronymus Bosch’s triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights.

Getting practical about doing right

For those not in the Huddle, we are current studying Ron Sider's Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger and John R. Schneider's The Good of Affluence. Our second meeting last week saw some  brainstorming about how we are better aid the needy and steward our resources. This post is meant to give us a convenient place to brainstorm further. Post ideas! Even if they occur to you half a year from now, post away. Here are some ideas to start with, from last Friday:

• Write a letter to your congressperson, local store, etc.
• Buy used clothing
• Start with the basics, such as looking to buy minimally packaged goods.
• Gradually get educated regarding fair trade companies
• Check out Slavery Footprint
• Do activities such as walk for homeless, raising money via 5k run, etc.
• Donate items you don't use much to shops like Second Thought Resale Shop etc.

"...for your love is more delightful than wine "

How did medieval Christians use the Bible differently from the way we do?

First, in the way they read Scripture, their hermeneutic. Given their focus on Scripture as written not just by human authors, but by the divine author, they were much more likely than us to interpret using allegory.

Second, in what they read. For instance, did you know that the Song of Songs [SoS] was “the most frequently interpreted book of medieval Christianity” [1]? Bernard of Clairvaux, in the 11th century, wrote no fewer than sixty-eight sermons on just the first two chapters and three verses. The Patrologia Latina, a collection of writings of the Fathers, “lists thirty-two Latin commentaries on the Song of Songs written from the time of Jerome and Ambrose to Peter Damián in the eleventh century. By comparison, …Galatians comes under study only six times, …Romans only nine.” [2] So popular was this book that the SoS was second only to the Psalms in the number of times it was set to music by Renaissance composers [3].

This book makes no mention of God, and by all appearances is simply erotic poetry. Yet the face-value meaning of the text, is certainly the minority one for pre-modern readers. It has been seen as an allegory for God and Israel (the traditional Jewish interpretation), God and the Church (the traditional Christian view), God and the believer (also popular historically) and even God and Mary.

Despite the difficulty SoS had making it into the Jewish canon, and further challenges to it by Christians in the 4th and 16th centuries, some have owned it proudly. As Rabbi Akiba said at the council of Jamnia in 90, “All the ages are not worth the day on which the Song of Songs was given to Israel. For all the writings are holy, but the Song of Songs is the Holy of Holies.” [3]

As you can imagine, the allegorical method can be nowhere as stretched as when applied to erotic poetry. So for Origen, the breasts, hair, lips, neck, etc. are the “powers” of the soul. According to Ambrose (4th cent. bishop of Milan), “What are the breasts of the church except the sacrament of baptism?” For Gregory the Great, the fawns feeding among the lilies are saints who “are unto God a sweet savor of Christ” (quoting 2 Cor 2:15). Again from Ambrose, on the SoS 7:2: “Small, too, are the navel and belly of the soul that ascends to Christ.” [4]

A medieval Jewish interpreter, Saadia, said the Song is like a book for which the key has been lost [5]. Indeed, it seems no interpretation is without its problems. The love-song reading appears to revel in loving but premarital sex. The poem is more a collection of poems, and the narrative at times unclear. At the same time, it has such detail that any allegory either ignores those details or contorts to fit them.

Still, similar allegory is not without precedent; both Hosea and in Ezek 16 draw a line between God’s love for his people and a suitor for his love. Even Jesus refers to himself as the “bridegroom.” But these passages are clearly figurative, whereas SoS gives no hint it wants to be read this way. Indeed, allegory limits what one can learn from the text. Where it agrees with the rest of Scripture, we affirm the allegory; where it doesn’t, we reject it. Thus, we cannot learn anything new from the SoS.

Well, not quite. Even if it says nothing new doctrinally, SoS may say it with greater depth and feeling. I had a friend in college, Amy, who was a very trusting and spiritual Christian. I remember very clearly her telling the rest of us in a prayer meeting of how she’d wandered Tappan Square in prayer, as if wandering with her boyfriend lost in conversation. You could see from her eyes that her passion for Jesus was deeper than many married couples have for one another.

Many of us will find it awkward thinking of Jesus as husband. But I have never forgotten Amy’s intense desire for intimacy with God.

So it is with curiosity that I have begun to explore some of the vast literature on the SoS. John of the Cross, for instance, while imprisoned for his support of Teresa of Avila, wrote his own Spiritual Canticle [6]. His poem is essentially a rewriting of SoS in a form more amenable to the allegory of the soul pursuing intimacy with God. Here is an excerpt:

We shall go at once

To the deep caverns of the rock

Which are all secret,

There we shall enter in

And taste of the new wine of the pomegranate.

There you will show me

That which my soul desired;

And there You will give at once,

O You, my life!

That which You gave me the other day.

The breathing of the air,

The song of the sweet nightingale,

The grove and its beauty

In the serene night,

With the flame that consumes, and gives no pains.

The nuns of John’s day prevailed upon him to write a commentary on his poem, but even without it we see a clear and eloquent description of the pursuit of a soul for and by God’s Spirit. John sharpens the God-soul allegory while retaining the eloquence of the Song.

Rabbi Shalom Carmy wrote, “Holiness is synonymous with intimacy; that is what the Song of Songs tells us, in a way unique among the books of Jewish Scripture” [7]. Perhaps it is hard to read SoS as pure allegory, and certainly it is a waste to disregard its beauty as romantic poetry. But it can be more than just advice to young lovers. Its history challenges us to set aside modern exegetical inhibitions, to read SoS with Christians through the centuries, and to learn of a passion for Christ which is as strong as death itself (8:6).

* * *

[1] E. Ann Matter, "The Voice of My Beloved: The Song of Songs in Western Medieval Christianity" (1990), 6; quoted in Thomas F. Ryan, “Sex, Spirituality and Pre-modern Readings of the Song of Songs,” Horizons, 28/1 (2001), 81-104.

[2] Endel Kallas, “Martin Luther as Expositor of the Song of Songs,” Lutheran Quarterly, 2 (1988), 323-341.

[3] http://www.npr.org/2011/07/13/137800097/stile-antico-asks-a-different-kind-of-love

[4] Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, OT vol. IX.

[5] J. Paul Tanner, “The history of interpretation of the Song of Songs,” Biblioteca Sacra 154 (1997), 23-46.

[6] You can read it online at http://www.ccel.org.

[7] “Perfect Harmony,” First Things, Dec 2010, p. 33.

Figures:

Figure 1: Bede, Super cantica canticorum, England, St Albans, first quarter of the twelfth century; from St Albans Abbey, where this copy of Bede’s commentary on the Song of Songs was made. Illuminated by an itinerant professional, the Alexis Master (act. c.1100-1130). The initial to the first book shows the intimate embrace of bride and groom, interpreted as the mystical union of the Church and Christ. [http://www.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/gallery/cambridgeilluminations/themes/2.html]

Figure 2: Capital from the Song of Solomon in Winchester Cathedral. Author unknown, date 1100s, source http://ccat.sas.upenn.edu/~jtreat/song/270.html

Divinity school

One of the most breathtaking passages in the NT, and one which gets little air time, is 2 Peter 1:3-11, which begins

His divine power has given us everything needed for life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Thus he has given us, through these things, his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may escape from the corruption that is in the world because of lust, and may become participants in the divine nature.

Consider what the "promises" give us: participation in the "divine nature." The idea that this might be open to us seems incredible.

But what does it mean? The word "participants" is the Greek koinonoi, meaning companions, partners, sharers, so we are given the chance to be partners in God's nature. It's a tough concept to wrap one's head around for several reasons. First, there aren't many parallel concepts; one never speaks of sharing in the angelic nature, or even the canine nature, much less the divine. Second, sharing in the divine nature means that humans are somehow capable of achieving such a lofty height. Third, it also means that God is not altogether "other." Surely God is so great, dwelling in the inscrutable heights of heaven, that we cannot hope to pin down his nature, much less share in it? According to 2 Peter we can.

So what is God's nature--at least, the aspect of it we can participate in? When we think of the divine nature the "omnis" come to mind: omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent. Yet none of these is promised to us, either in this life or the next.

It turns out that this phrase and concept were well known in ancient times. The dualistic Greek world view associated permanence and immortality with the divine nature and transience and mortality with the creation. And there were various theories of how the divine nature was achieved [1]; through ritual (the mystery religions); through philosophical contemplation and detachment (Platonism); through the secret knowledge (Hermetic literature), in the afterlife, or through mystical ecstasy (Philo).

For Peter, as in Hellenistic thinking, the divine nature allowed escape from corruption (v. 4). But for Peter, it comes first through knowledge (v. 3), not through any of the above avenues. And while in the culture of the day corruption was in the very nature of the physical world, for Christians and Jews alike, the corruption was due to sin, which entered the world through Adam. To escape sin is to escape the death that reigns in this fallen world. Believers will be granted new life in the resurrection of the dead, and freedom from sin.

But there is another related element of participation in the divine nature which happens now. As it says in Jn 1:18,

No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.

Our understanding of the divine nature comes through Jesus. We believe that in living among us Jesus set aside his "omnis," but not his divine nature. This is described in Philippians 2:5-7:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

who, though he was in the form of God,

did not regard equality with God

as something to be exploited,

but emptied himself,

taking the form of a slave,

being born in human likeness.

The central aspect of Jesus' ministry, the greatest way in which Jesus reflected the divine nature, was in his dying for us, his self-sacrificial love, a perfect reflection of his humility.

We may look forward to the next life, but not at the expense of this life. As Fred Craddock puts it,

...the conversion from this life to the next is not achieved simply by dying and therefore passing from mortality to immortality. Rather the change is moral and ethical. [2]

The divine nature is characterized by humble, Christ-like, self-giving love. Turning aside from the lusts of this corrupt world, fueled by knowledge of Christ's sacrifice, and following in Jesus' footsteps, we share in the very nature of the transcendent God.

* * *

Why the Pelican Art? In the middle ages, it was believed that pelicans pierced their own breasts in order to feed their young. This became a symbol for Christ's life-giving sacrifice: "O loving pelican, O Jesu Lord, unclean am I but cleanse me in thy blood" (Thomas Aquinas, Adoro Te Devote). The reference can also be found in Dante's Paradiso (25:113) and Act IV, scene V of Hamlet, where Laertes says to the king, "To his good friends thus wide I'll open my arms; and like the life-rendering pelican, repast them with my blood."

The first image is from: The Cloisters Collection, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; John Stewart Kennedy Fund, 1922, reproduced in The Medieval Menagerie - Animals in the Art of the Middle Ages by Janetta Rebold Benton, Abbeville Press Publishers, New York, (1922), pg 22 [http://donna.hrynkiw.net/sca/pelican/index.html].

The second image is from The Hague, Museum Meermanno, MMW, 10 B 25, ca. 1450 [http://physiologus.proab.info/?re=524].

[1] Richard J. Bauckham, Jude, 2 Peter, Word Biblical Commentary (1983), p. 180.

[2] First and Second Peter and Jude, Westminster Bible Companion (1995), p. 98.

it's all about the data

When discussing science & religion, there are two types of people: those for whom historical and anecdotal data can be relevant, and those for whom scientific data are the only data.

Perusing old issues of the American Journal of Physics I ran across some letters to the editor concerning a book review of Ian Barbour's Religion in an Age of Science. First, one physicist complains,

...it seems to me that the basic underpinning of most modern religions is unquestioning acceptance of life-after-death as an absolute truth. But this is in direct conflict with the scientific fact that there is no life after death. (One such proof: human memory is stored in the circuitry of the brain and after death this circuitry completed decomposes.) I fault the reviewer for not telling us how Barbour resolves this fundamental conflict between science and Religion.

Another physicist replies,

Professor [so-and-so] makes a number of mistaken claims. The proposition that the human soul is immortal has been subject to rational demonstration since the time of the ancient Greeks--hardly unquestioning acceptance! Instead, he presents his unquestioning acceptance that human memory is limited to the brain, as a fact. How does he know this? It is his materialistic belief that excludes the possibility of a soul. He eliminates a priori any possibility that his assertions can be tested and so renders any claim to the mantle of "scientific" for his position empty.

One test for his assertion would be: have people come back to life from death? The scriptures contain numerous accounts, even of one after being 4 days dead. Of course these depend on the evidence of witnesses, but so much in life depends on such evidence, even the credibility of physicists themselves.

(The Greeks subjected resurrection to rational demonstration? How did they do that?)

These letters point to two fundamental roadblocks:

First, the materialist discounts anecdotal and historical evidence (i.e., Scriptures) as unscientific and certainly not strong enough to support the existence of resurrection. (Note the common, Bayseyan assumption that the grander the claim, the greater the evidence needed.) Here the second writer shoots himself in the foot by allowing in all anecdotal evidence. Now he's carrying around Joseph Smith's golden tablets. Yet somewhere in there is a valid point: Not all data are scientific data, nor are historical and anecdotal evidence without merit. Those in the humanities can be just as interested in truth and evidence. In fact, the historian of science must sift evidence and is capable of drawing conclusions just as the scientist is.

A good example is the discovery of solitons by naval engineer John Scott Russel in 1834. He observed a wave travel at high speed down a channel for well over a mile without diminishing. This didn't fit the current theories of wave motion, and giants of the day such as George Stokes denied its very existence. Now solitons are established in theory and experiment and may be found many places in nature and engineering, but for long time their basis was only anecdotal. Not all things which exist fit our current theories, or readily admit to observation and measurement.

Second, the materialist would likely reject the idea that he had made any assumption at all in his materialist beliefs, appealing to that great obfuscator, Occam's Razor, by which one counts (weighs?) assumptions when deciding propositions. The materialist might well reply, "I suppose I did make the assumption that the soul doesn't exist. I also assume fairy dust doesn't exist, but you don't fault me for that."

Yet we need not, and should not, feel compelled to throw out scriptural evidence. Rather we have the harder task of sorting and weighing it. The fairy-dust response is only valid if there exists no evidence for God, the resurrection, etc. There does, just not scientific evidence. (See the first point.)

The debate continues for a few years past those letters. A conservative Christian quotes Ezekiel's dry bones passage as if it were God announcing by megaphone that he does engage in resurrection. (Exillic literary context and imagery be damned!) A setback for the non-materialists, unfortunately. The ensuing discussion includes many old saws, the persecution of Galileo by the Catholic Church and the non-overlapping magisteria. And quite a number of letters cheering for materialist reductionism.

Is it possible for these sides to talk to, and not past, one another?

Prophetic ecstasy

We are being treated to sermons about the Song of Songs this summer at RCRC.

The SoS has long been interpreted allegorically, first by Jewish, then by Christian readers.

Which may seem like a stretch. After all, it's one of the two books of the Bible which doesn't even mention God. In fact, there's nothing in it to suggest it is more than an intimate love song.

The problem with allegorizing is that, while you may illuminate a point of doctrine, you can't create new doctrine. After all, Scripture is inspired--not necessarily your allegory.

A good friend pointed out that the

re has long been a parallel drawn between experience of physical love and interaction with the divine, hence the connotations in "prophetic ecstasy".

This friend also pointed out a prime visualization of this, namely Bernini's statue The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, shown here.

This sculpture--or group of sculptures--is based on this following passage from St. Teresa's Autobiography:

I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual; though the body has its share in it. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am lying.

It is hard not to be entranced by this--and perhaps it makes the allegory of SoS a little more credible.