Posted by Nevin Climenhaga in Philosophy & Apologetics | 30 Comments
I’m Going to Hell (And So Are You)
A Philosophical Defense of Universalism
In the wake of the Rob Bell universalism controversy, Justin has asked me to write a blog post presenting a clear case for universalism. I’m happy to do so, but first let me note that I have not read Bell’s book and do not intend to. The views expressed here are (more or less) my own, and not intended to be representations of Bell’s (or anyone else’s). My own vague impression is that Bell’s position is closer to C.S. Lewis’s, which allows for the possibility of post-mortem salvation but denies that all will choose to be saved (and perhaps says that most will choose not to be). This is not a universalist position, as I understand the term. Also, as Justin notes in the last post, Bell is not the paradigm of a clear analytic writer. My guess is that he intentionally avoids arguing for a specific position in his book, preferring to focus more on questions than answers. I won’t say that there’s nothing to be gained from such an approach, but I think that clear defenses of well-articulated positions are valuable and needed. Of course, such defenses, because they’re more explicit, run the risk of being deemed unorthodox or heretical. I do not think that universalism is heretical (it was not addressed in any early church creeds, for example, and some early church fathers, most notably Origen, were universalists), but my purpose here is to argue that it’s true, regardless of whether it’s orthodox Christian doctrine.
Let me also note that the case I will be presenting here is a philosophical one, and not a Biblical one. This does not mean that a case for universalism can’t be made from Scripture, simply that that’s not my purpose here. (For what it’s worth, I think that if we were trying to decide the issue purely from Scripture we ought to be agnostics about it, because the most straightforward interpretation of certain verses implies universalism, the most straightforward interpretation of other verses implies annihilationism, and the most straightforward interpretation of yet other verses implies a view of hell as eternal suffering. Happily, though, reason does not leave us so torn.)
Rosa Celeste: Dante and Beatrice gaze upon the highest Heaven, The Empyrean
The Basic Argument
First, let me define universalism. I understand universalism to be the claim that eventually, all people will be saved, or more precisely (to allow for the possibility of a continuing creation), that for any person, that person will eventually be saved. This is different from the claim that we’re all going straight to heaven when we die. A universalist could think that, but need not (and most do not). Universalism does not even necessarily deny the existence of hell, provided that eternality is not built into the definition of hell. Rather, a universalist can acknowledge the existence of hell but simply see it as a temporary residence; in other words, he treats it as roughly equivalent to the Catholic notion of purgatory.
Now that I’ve defined universalism, let me put forward the version of universalism I defend. My starting point is a certain conception of salvation, and of the purpose of our earthly lives. I believe that the purpose of our lives is freely chosen moral and spiritual growth, which will culminate in our becoming morally and spiritually perfect, and so fit for reconciliation with God. I also think that this is what salvation is. This process can begin in this life (salvation isn’t just about what happens after we die), but it rarely or never ends in this life. All or nearly all people go to hell/purgatory where this process continues until their souls are perfected and they can be fully reconciled with God. This view is usually discussed in connection with theodicy, and indeed it does, I think, offer the most plausible explanation for the existence of evil in the world (i.e., evil is necessary for our moral and spiritual development); in this context this is called the soul-making theodicy (most prominently defended by John Hick in Evil and the God of Love).[1]
One can be a universalist without being a soul-making theodicist. However, it is the framework within which I’m working; as my argument proceeds it will hopefully become clearer where the soul-making view is essential to it and where it applies regardless of how one thinks of salvation.
The basic argument for universalism is this. God will not take away people’s ability to make the choices necessary to be saved, either when they die or at any time thereafter. If God does not take away this possibility, then eventually everyone will choose to be saved. Therefore, everyone will eventually be saved.
God Will Allow It
I think the first premise is practically self-evident, but I’ll say a little bit to defend it nevertheless. I take it to be obvious that if God is all-loving, God desires that all be saved. God is, of course, all-loving; hence God has this desire. Other things being equal, God will seek to realize his desires. And in this case, other things are equal—there are no overriding purposes of God that will keep him from giving people the chance to be saved. So, God will never take away people’s ability to be saved.
The main objection that can be raised here is to the claim that God has no other more important purposes that would conflict with his giving us every chance to be saved. For a soul-making theodicist, the very purpose of God’s creating us is for us to be saved, and so clearly God has no other more important purposes (all his other purposes are merely means to this). However, on other conceptions of God’s purposes, there might be purposes which override the desire for all to be given the possibility of salvation. Douglas Geivett, in Evil and the Evidence for God: The Challenge of John Hick’s Theodicy (pp. 215-18), claims that God’s primary purpose is to create free beings who can choose either to accept him or reject him—a choice which he will honour by sending them to either heaven or hell. This is a fairly common view, but it has several problems. To begin with, it is not at all clear what is so good about the kind of freedom idealized in this view. If the result of freedom is that the majority of the human race will suffer eternal separation from God, it seems that it would have been better for God not to give humanity freedom. It is also far from clear just what “freely choos[ing] [or rejecting] God in this earthly life” (p. 215) means. Were God actually to reveal himself to every single human being and ask them whether they would rather be saved or damned, I can hardly imagine many of them saying the latter. The moral and spiritual ambiguity of the universe make it eminently unreasonable to ask that humans in this life determine the fate of their eternal souls by a “choice” when it is not at all obvious just how one goes about “choosing salvation.” A good God would not do this.
No doubt other possible purposes of God’s that conflict with his desire to give everyone the opportunity to be saved could also be contrived, but I think they will be found similarly wanting. Any plausible conception of salvation and God’s purposes will imply that he will never take away the possibility of salvation from someone.
People Will Choose It
The second premise, that if God allows everyone to be saved, everyone will be, is the one that’s more commonly denied, I think, at least by thoughtful Christians. As I noted above, I think Bell probably would deny this premise. However, there’s a very simple argument for it. In an infinite amount of time, anything that can happen will happen. Since salvation is always something that can happen (because God won’t close off the possibility), eventually it will.
Unfortunately, that argument doesn’t work. The reason is that the above principle (eventually, anything that can happen will) only applies when the probability of an event remains constant. And it is doubtful that the events involved in choosing salvation remain equally probable as time goes on. Some opponents of universalism have pointed out that when we act immorally in a particular area we become habituated to that way of acting, and so become less likely to make moral choices in that area. If this is true (and it certainly seems plausible), it means that a person’s continued sin in the afterlife could (through the corruption of his character) lead to it becoming increasingly unlikely that he will choose to do good. Even if the probability of his doing good never reached 0, its growing progressively smaller would mean that even over an infinite period of time, the probability of his eventual soul-making would still be smaller than 1, and so his salvation would not be guaranteed.[2]
This scenario, however, only leaves room for two factors: free will and one’s own moral inertia. But why suppose that these are the only relevant factors? After all, these same forces are at work in this life, and yet we still seek to save the lost (or should, at least). We may try to help a person entangled in sin by changing her situation, showing her love and compassion, or removing or making less appealing the temptation to sin. If we can do these things to help people in this life escape sin, why can God not do similarly for people in the next? All God has to do is provide countervailing forces that make it so that the probability of people’s continued sin does not consistently grow progressively larger. He could do this, perhaps, by periodically changing their situations so as to give them positive moral influences, or by revealing himself to them to a degree that counteracts their moral dispositions. Whatever his methods, he could presumably see to it that the probability of a person choosing good remained sufficiently constant for that person to eventually do so. (In the soul-making conception of salvation, this choice would have to be made multiple times. But this does not change the essential nature of the situation.) So although God could not guarantee that person’s (freely chosen) salvation at any particular time, he could guarantee his eventual salvation.
Now, were someone’s character to become so corrupt that moral goodness became a psychological impossibility for him, the above scenario could not obtain for that person. But we have no good reason to think that human beings can become so utterly and irrevocably evil that it is impossible for them to choose the good, no matter what situation they are in. Certainly it seems unlikely that, had he a choice, a God who wished for all to be saved would have created human beings in such a way. Even if it were possible for human beings to become irrevocably evil, God could presumably interfere before the appropriate choice was made that would bring this about (he could do so, for example, by temporarily removing the temptation to sin).
This discussion, however, raises another possible difficulty with the soul-making theodicy. If it is not possible for anyone to become irrevocably evil, is it possible for someone to become irrevocably good? Is the concept of a morally perfect person, one whose character is so constituted that no matter what situation she finds herself in, she will not sin, a sensible one? It is not obvious to me that it is; it seems that even the best person, were you to put her in a damnable enough situation, would eventually sin. Now, on some views of salvation, God can simply make us perfect through divine fiat, and that solves the problem. As a soul-making theodicist this response is not available to me; I think that perfection must happen through our own choices and not through God snapping his fingers and changing us into completely different people.
I think there are a couple responses available to me here, though. First, it may be that it is possible for us to become perfect, even though it may not seem so to us now. Certainly, if there were any possibility of creating rational agents who could eventually be made perfect, it seems clear that an all-powerful and all-loving God would have created us so. Even if this is not possible, though, one could hold to a slightly modified view on which while none of us ever reach perfection, we all continually move towards it; and as we mature the probability of our falling away becomes less and less until it becomes negligible. There is nothing untenable about this picture, as far as I can see.
Is Universalism Dangerous?
As I’ve noted, this is the only objection to universalism that I find at all troubling, and I don’t think that even it is devastating. Moreover, I don’t think it’s a problem just for universalists; anyone who believes in eventual salvation for anyone has to deal with it. But, although I think the case for universalism is compelling, in my experience, most opposition to universalism is not based on philosophical argument but fears about accepting such a “dangerous” doctrine, or, more charitably, a conviction that it is contrary to the teachings of Scripture. I don’t think that either of those are good reasons to reject the case I’ve made here, but that’s epistemology, which I won’t get into here. I do want to briefly note, though, that universalism of the sort I’ve defended is not nearly so dangerous as many people seem to think.
To begin with, it does not imply, as some suggest, that evangelism and missionary work is worthless or unnecessary. To begin with, the sole purpose of evangelism is not giving people “fire insurance” (as a theology professor of mine once colourfully put it); we are sharing the wonderful good news of Christ with people because we want them to know the truth and experience the joy and liberation that we have experienced. Moreover, if true Christian faith has a positive effect on one’s moral character, and I think it does, then conversion can help people in the soul-making process.
Some also worry that universalism takes away the motivation for people to get their acts together in this life. Why bother becoming a better person if you’re just going to get a free pass into heaven whatever you do? Now, first of all, I think we should do good deeds because they’re the right thing to do, not to get into heaven; but setting that aside, my position does not imply that people get a free pass into heaven. You’re going to have to get your act together at some point, whether in this life and the next, and so you’ll have to go through the effort and pain this entails eventually. Moreover, on my view, nearly all people, Christians and non-Christians, are not going straight to heaven, and so if the threat of punishment is necessary, my view provides more motivation for us to act morally than views on which God will transform all true Christians into perfect beings by divine fiat when they die. I’m going to hell, and so are you. So if we don’t want to spend too much time there, we’d better start acting more Christlike now.
Footnotes
[1] For further discussion of the soul-making theodicy and its prospects and problems, I have a paper which was published in an online journal here. Portions of this post are lifted from the last section of that essay, which discusses Hick’s universalism.
[2] The more technical explanation of all this, for those interested, is this. If the probability of an event E occurring in a given period of time remains constant, the probability of E occurring at least once over X periods of time can be calculated by multiplying the probability of E not occurring by itself X times (i.e., raising the probability of not-E to the power of X). As X approaches infinity, then the probability of not-E approaches 0, and the probability of E 1. Hence, given an infinite amount of time, E would occur; a monkey at a typewriter would eventually type Hamlet, even though his doing so on any particular spurt of typing would be incredibly unlikely. In the case before us, though, the probability of our hypothetical person’s soul-making is growing progressively smaller, and so we would not be multiplying (for example) a 0.8 probability of continued sin in a given time period by itself an infinite number of times (which would equal 0); rather, we would be multiplying 0.8 by (say) 0.9 by (say) 0.95, and so on and so forth. This would yield a result much higher than 0, meaning that eventual soul-making could not be assured.
What an interesting and compelling argument, and so beautifully articulated! I’m not sure I’m completely convinced — I still tend to agree with C. S. Lewis’ position, as you outline it — but you’ve definitely given me something to think about.
I think the most insightful thing you say in your article is this: “if we were trying to decide the issue purely from Scripture we ought to be agnostics about it.” Indeed. I find it frustrating when I encounter people who seem to think the matter is completely straightforward in Scripture. Far from it. As you point out, different verses seem to point very clearly in very different directions. So a philosophical exploration of the issue (as you’ve offered) seems invaluable in deciding what we believe.
“For what it’s worth, I think that if we were trying to decide the issue purely from Scripture we ought to be agnostics about it, because the most straightforward interpretation of certain verses implies universalism, the most straightforward interpretation of other verses implies annihilationism, and the most straightforward interpretation of yet other verses implies a view of hell as eternal suffering.”
From this bit of text, I find a reinforcement of my objections to sola scriptura but this says nothing of the Catholic’s or Orthodox’s respective views of Holy Tradition (which are different in essence). I agree that reason is helpful but let it be known that RC and EO Christians do not decide anything based on Scripture alone, reason alone, or anything alone for that matter.
While a philosophical approach might make a logical argument, that doesn’t validate the argument. Calvinism is an internally consistent, logical, philosophical system of soteriology that just so happens to be incorrect at the same time.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that this doesn’t make me doubt or question the Orthodox understanding of hell, heaven, the Judgement, etc. even if it is a logical argument. It is well written and interesting; I’ll say that much. Dan being the resident philosopher around here might have more to say. I admit my inability to analyze arguments to the degree that he is able.
John
Thanks both for your comments.
@Kathleen: Yes, very often when people object to a teaching because it is unbiblical, what they really mean is that it differs from what they’ve always been taught, with a few proof-texts from Scripture to back it up. I think that the verses that seem to imply a view of hell as eternal conscious suffering (e.g., II Thessalonians 1:9) can be interpreted as only referring to a temporary period of time (because the Greek word usually translated “eternal” can mean more than one thing) without doing too much violence to the text. And people who know Greek much better than I have argued that in fact this is the more natural reading. That being said, I’m reticent to say that my reinterpretations of passages traditionally interpreted one way are more natural than anti-universalists’ interpretations of verses that seem to imply universalism (e.g., Romans 5:18). Fortunately, I think my position is on much more solid ground philosophically, and so that’s where I focus. For a good introduction to the Biblical case for universalism, though, Keith DeRose (also a philosopher) has a nice essay up on his website: http://pantheon.yale.edu/~kd47/univ.htm
@John: There are a few things I’d like to respond to in your post. To begin with, I think a bit of clarification of exactly what Holy Tradition teaches would be helpful. This is partly simply because of my ignorance of the Catholic and Orthodox traditions, and so I’m not entirely sure what you mean by the claim that tradition teaches that universalism is false. Certainly we can find more early church fathers who opposed the doctrine than defended it, but it was never, to my knowledge, declared heretical. I believe that it was, for much of church history, considered heterodox, which, again if I understand these things correctly, means that it is not official church doctrine but that you are allowed to hold it while being part of the church. I’m not sure what the current stance of either the Catholic or Orthodox Church on universalism is, although I have heard cited some statements by Pope John Paul II to the effect that universal salvation is possible, although we cannot know whether it is not it will actually happen.
So, if it’s right that universalism is defended by some but opposed by most, or considered unorthodox but not unholdable, then I don’t see that there’s much of a difference between the positions that tradition and Scripture leave us in here. At best this gives us a presumption against universalism. But, that doesn’t mean that we need to leave it at that presumption; if a good philosophical case can be made for universalism, that presumption can be defeated. Galileo thought (or at least he said that he did) that traditional readings of Scripture should be preferred, other things equal; but if those readings contradict well-established scientific theory, then the passages need to be reinterpreted. And of course, he thought that his own heliocentric theory was well-established. Similarly, I can grant for dialectical purposes that a traditional view on the afterlife is to be preferred, other things being equal, but other things aren’t equal. Universalism follows deductively from premises that we have good reason to accept.
I also want to defend the love of wisdom against your attacks, but I’m going to do that in another post.
@John: Okay, now on to my defence of wisdom. You say that “While a philosophical approach might make a logical argument, that doesn’t validate the argument.” I take it that what you mean here is that philosophy can show that P follows from some set of premises but not show that those premises are true. In a sense what you say is true. It’s impossible to deductively derive interesting theses from self-evident premises like “A = A” and “I seem to be typing on a computer right now.” But, so what? Philosophy can’t do this, but neither can anything else. Scripture can say that P is true, but you can’t go from there to P unless you believe that Scripture is reliable. And you can’t show that unless you can show that Scripture is reliable; relying on Scripture to show that is obviously blatantly circular. (And of course, the same applies if we replace Scripture with tradition.)
There’s two possible responses to this state of affairs. The first is to say that because we have several distinct logically consistent systems, there’s nothing to show us that one is better than the other, and we can’t fault anyone unless their beliefs are logically inconsistent. This way lies relativism and madness, in my opinion. As you say, Calvinism is incorrect. But if logical inconsistency is all we’re allowed to dismiss a system, then we have no justification for saying that it is (unless it in fact turns out to be inconsistent).
The second response it to say that though neither reason nor anything else can show us that anything is definitely true, it can show us that some things are probably true. It’s logically possible that I am a brain in a vat electronically stimulated to have the sensory experiences I’m having; however, this is nevertheless highly improbable, and so I’m reasonable in dismissing it. Likewise, while I would not claim to know with certainty that an all-loving God would not take away the possibility of salvation, I can still be rationally confident that he would not.
Moreover, the rational confidence (not certainty) I have in the reliability of Scripture and tradition also comes from reason. If I did not think that a good objective case could be made for the historical reliability of the New Testament, and, by extension, the trustworthiness of those who came after Jesus, then I wouldn’t (and shouldn’t) trust these sources. But if it’s reason that leads me to trust the testimony of the Church, I can’t just throw that reason out when it leads me to a conclusion that is at odds with Church tradition.
Finally, I think that dialectically I can grant your conception of philosophy as only suited to demonstrate logical inconsistency without this entirely blunting the force of my challenge. The argument I presented was valid, and it only had two premises. If you wish to deny the conclusion (that all will be saved), you must deny one of the premises, on pain of contradiction. So, which one will it be? Simply saying that you’re going to stick with the Church on this one doesn’t give you a consistent set of beliefs. Moreover, my starting points were not just personal intuitions, but conceptions of God and human freedom that most Christians accept, and indeed, many of which are themselves taught by Scripture and tradition. That God is all-loving, and even that he desires that all be saved, is taught explicitly in many Christian traditions. If this turns out to be inconsistent with universalism, and that tradition denies universalism, then that system is inconsistent.
I apologize for being so vague. I’m usually pretty good at being terrible in explaining concepts, ideas… well, anything actually. I suppose my intent wasn’t to hash out ideas, but then again if I had no intention of doing so, perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut.
Forgive me, I had no reason to attack wisdom at all. The Fathers were well versed in it and were very adept at looking at a philosophy’s strengths while rejecting it’s weaknesses. Some, like Augustine, Origen and Thomas Aquinas, tried to mesh Christianity completely with Plato and Aristotle, while others, including many Greek Fathers, rejected those principles within Aristotle and Plato that contradicted Christian thought and accepted those that confirmed it. I apologize, I don’t intend to bash philosophy or reason but to show that something consistent isn’t necessarily true (i.e., Calvinism).
“But if logical inconsistency is all we’re allowed to dismiss a system, then we have no justification for saying that it is (unless it in fact turns out to be inconsistent).”
I agree that there need be more than just the factor of consistency in determining the falsity of an argument.
Ah… a concise,yet clear, understanding of Orthodox Holy Tradition. Does such a thing exist? Perhaps not. I shall say two things in regards to Holy Tradition in Orthodoxy.
I think St. Vincent of Lérins said it best when he stated that in order to figure out if a doctrine is Christian we need to look at three categories: antiquity, universality, and consent. His statements on these three qualities was written at a time when the West began to run after Augustinian doctrines that have since shaped the Western view of theology.
His works on the subject can be found here
In short, some early Christian writers adhered to universalism in some sense (actually, I can only think of one “Father”, Gregory of Nanzianzus, 4th century, but this does not mean that he was the only one; some early Christian writers aren’t even called “Fathers” in Orthodoxy, such as Origen because he was a Platonist. His theology had more issues than just universalism). But the question remains, does universalism meet the Vincentian Canon? I do not think it does. Were it so true, given the early Christian writers’ adherence to passing down, unaltered, the Tradition of the Apostles, often stated explicitly by many, including Irenaeus of Lyons in Against Heresies (2nd century, a disciple of Polycarp who in turn was a disciple of the St. John the Apostle)linked here, universalism would have been maintained by these zealous adherents to Apostolic Tradition. Yet only a few fringe Christian writers believed it, and for some, like Origen, it was the logical conclusion of his philosophical (Platonic) principles rather than because it was a part of the deposit of Christian faith. Between Holy Tradition and the Vincentian Canon, I do not think Universalism is true Christian doctrine.
Hmmm…I think I’ve done a fairly poor job of trying to explain in short what is to be lived in the Liturgy, hymnography, iconography and prayer life of the Orthodox Church.
On final thing. Let me link something about what Hell and Heaven are in Orthodoxy. This may surprise you but the Western concept of Hell, and even Purgatory, is foreign to the Orthodox phronema or mindset. If you would like, you may read about it here.. I warn you, the River of Fire is a long read. Also please forgive the authors polemic attitude. The circumstances in which he is writing dictated the way in which he wrote. Below is the short version by St. Isaac of Nineveh (7th century):
“… those who find themselves in hell will be chastised by the scourge of love. How cruel and bitter this torment of love will be! For those who understand that they have sinned against love, undergo no greater suffering than those produced by the most fearful tortures. The sorrow which takes hold of the heart, which has sinned against love, is more piercing than any other pain. It is not right to say that the sinners in hell are deprived of the love of God … But love acts in two ways, as suffering of the reproved, and as joy in the blessed! (St. Isaac of Syria, Mystic Treatises)”
Forgive me for being long winded. I’m sure I didn’t cover everything you talked about. I’m not sure if can do so adequately.
John
I apologize, but I think my comments hit the spam box because I had two links or perhaps three in it. As soon as Justin fishes it out (please and thank you) it should be available to read.
I don’t have any formal training in philosophy, so if you think there’s a problem in my reasoning, tell me. A few things I could say, but I’ll stick to one at a time. These are just some musings, but I’m curious how you’d respond.
I object to the second premise, that everyone will choose salvation.
“But we have no good reason to think that human beings can become so utterly and irrevocably evil that it is impossible for them to choose the good.”
I agree because I think denying the possibility of doing good denies free will. But then your argument still seems to hinge on the idea that if something is possible and enough time happens, it must happen. That’s true if we’re talking about something like a blindfolded monkey typing Hamlet, something which can be expressed in mathematical terms and then multiplied.
But I’m unconvinced that a free will choice can be expressed in terms of a probability percentage in any true sense, even if you add the idea that the “probability” can change. We of course use descriptive numbers for practical reasons (X% of people do Y in situation S) and then try to infer the “chances” that someone will do a particular thing, but I don’t think chance actually plays that sort of role in a free will choice. I don’t think it can be expressed as a number. To be clear, I don’t just mean the number is unknowable but that I doubt the number exists. And if it doesn’t exist, it can’t be multiplied.
Sigh… HTML fail.
I’m going to respond to John’s post at some point when I have more time to think about some of this stuff, but I’ll try to address Justin’s comments now.
Justin, I think you’ve actually latched onto something very important. There are, of course, several understandings of free will among philosophers (and theologians, for that matter), and I’m not firmly committed to any particular one. On compatibilist views of free will, one’s choices can be free while simultaneously being determined. If this view is correct, the argument for universalism is even more straightforward than I’ve presented it here. If God can determine that we will be saved while preserving our free will, then of course he will do so. However, most Christians (Calvinists excepted) are libertarians, which means that they think we have free will and that this is incompatible with determinism. In other words, this view says that our free choices are not causally determined beforehand. This was the view I was taking for granted in my argument.
The principle that in an infinite amount of time, anything that can happen will happen falls out of some very basic principles. The first is that events have objective chances of occurring. For instance, an unstable atom might have a 50% chance of decaying in a certain period of time. The second is simply the axioms of probability theory, which I’ll spare you here. As I see it, the axioms of probability theory are unassailable; they’re true in the same way that basic mathematical truths are true. So the only thing to attack here is the claim that the events in question have objective chances of occurring. In some cases I think it’s simply obvious that events do have objective chances of occurring (if determinism is true, then the chance is just 1). There really is a 0.5 chance of a certain atom decaying in a certain period of time. Our best scientific theories depend on this fact being true (and our only alternatives depend on determinism being true). There’s no other way to explain the fact that, in fact, roughly 50% of those atoms do decay in that time.
But what of human actions? This is a trickier case. There really does seem to be a conflict between the libertarian conception of human freedom and there being an objective chance of us performing a certain action. It’s awfully hard to explain just what that conflict is, but I share that intuition with you. However, I think that denying that there are objective chances of human actions occurring is empirically untenable, and possibly conceptually suspect as well. In other words, I’m not sure it even makes sense to say that our actions do not have objective chances of being done, and even if it does, the predictability of human actions makes it clear that as a matter of fact, our actions do have a certain chance of being done. Give me 1000 randomly chosen Americans, have them make some choice, and then let me record how many chose one way and how many the other. Then give me another 1000, and I can predict how many of that group will choose each way, and I’ll be pretty darn close. If there were not objective chances of our actions occurring, I simply don’t see how that would be possible.
So, to sum up. It may be right that libertarian freedom conflicts with free actions having objective probabilities. But our actions do have objective probabilities. So, if there’s a conflict there, then so much the worse for libertarian freedom. And if we don’t have libertarian freedom, either we’re not free at all (as orthodox Calvinists might say) or we have compatibilist freedom. Either way my argument is made easier.
@John: I wasn’t meaning to imply that you were disrespecting philosophy or anything like that; I was simply being rhetorical. I apologize if I came off as defensive. If I may say just a bit more on this subject, though, I think that there’s a bit of an equivocation that often goes on when people talk about the value of philosophy or the relation of philosophy and theology. Philosophy can mean a particular philosophical system or tradition, and when you speak of some early church fathers embracing philosophy and some being more wary of it, I think that’s what philosophy is referring to there (in particular, it’s referring to Platonic and Aristotelian thought). Certainly, I agree that philosophy so understood is imperfect and probably not wholly compatible with Christian thought. However, philosophy can also simply mean a rational examination of basic fundamental questions without reference to a particular branch or school of philosophy. If that’s what we mean by philosophy, then I unabashedly affirm the priority of philosophy over theology, and reason over faith. We need philosophy to do theology, and we need reason to choose what to have faith in. This doesn’t mean that “philosophical truths” like “A = A” are more important than truths of theology, simply that they’re more epistemically basic, and as such more certain.
As for your discussion of tradition: I think you’re right that universalism was not orthodox Christian doctrine, and was accepted only by a few (although as a follow-up to my earlier point about other Christian doctrines implying universalism, something like the soul-making theodicy is evident in the writings of Irenaeus, whether or not Irenaeus himself recognized the implications of that). But there’s a difference between a doctrine not being orthodox and the denial of that doctrine being orthodox. It is no part of orthodox Christianity that hydrogen atoms have a single electron, but obviously that doesn’t mean that orthodoxy precludes one from believing that. Does Orthodox Christian tradition claim that universalism is false, and that one must believe that to be in good standing in the Orthodox Church?
For what it’s worth, I actually think that your brief description of the Orthodox conception of hell fits quite nicely into my framework (as does the Orthodox notion of theosis, I might add). If hell’s torments come from recognition of the harm we have done to one who loves us, then it’s only natural to think that such love will produce repentance, and so sanctification. And If God won’t allow repentance at that point, then I don’t think we can coherently speak of sinners in hell as experiencing the love of God anymore.
John, I fixed the link. what you typed is typically converted into HTML by forums, but for wordpress you must type real HTML using the “href” tag.
Nevin,
I don’t think any Orthodox theologian would argue that God doesn’t allow repentance after death. But I must admit that how to explain why someone wouldn’t choose repentance after death is beyond me at this time.
First, I’m not sure if this is something explicitly found in the writings of the Fathers. If it’s there, I’ve not come across it yet. I’d be willing to guess that if anyone wrote about it, it would be St. Isaac of Nineveh whom I referenced above, St. Ephraim the Syrian or St. Basil the Great. Although not limiting the subject to these three men, I do know that each touches on this subject in some respect in their writings. It has been said, though I cannot remember by whom, that it is certainly okay to believe that all may be saved, but it would be wrong to say that all must be saved. I need to do some research on that comment. I’ve heard it somewhere but for the life of me, I cannot recall the source. I need to do some reading of the three saints mentioned above and perhaps a few more to find the source of that paraphrased statement. The other option is that my memory could be faulty.
Second, given the fact that none but a few adhered to the idea of universalism, I am reticent to so grab hold of the idea and run with it, even if it is philosophically sound. Universalism was not unknown to the early Christians. If it is true, I wonder why it would have been left out of the deposit of faith passed down through the ages.
Oh, I found this while looking up the Greek word “apokatastasis”: I hate to reference wikipedia but it does mention that St. Gregory discussed universalism but failed to reach a decision. I’ll have to look more into that. I hope I’m not attributing something to St. Gregory that he did not, in fact, hold to.
Your analogy about hydrogen atoms and universalism seems to be comparing apples with screwdrivers. Atomic weights are not a matter of theology or revelation, whereas universalism is, unless I’ve missed something there which is entirely possible.
John
Thanks Justin.
Just you know, there are two other links in that post. I’ll correct that problem next time I try to link in wordpress. Just too messy otherwise.
“How the hell-how in heaven’s name-how on earth- do you know anything about heaven and hell?” John F. Kennedy in Between Heaven and Hell by Peter Kreeft
@ John
I’m not sure you can argue from silence in a tradition, which is I believe the point Nevin was making with the atomic mass of hydrogen example. The early church was primarily concerned with the Doctrine of God and with Christology. None of the Fathers is all that well known for his soteriology (as evidence by the fact that the main theories of salvation were not developed until the middle ages). Although I will note that the kind of soul-making theodicy approach that Nevin and I share has roots in Irenaeus. It seems like the only major issue related to the hell debate that emerged was conditional immortality, which was rejected. (conditional immortality is not the same as my own annihilationist position).
While it is not my purpose to mount a devastating objection to Nevin’s position (I largely think it’s correct), I do see one oddity: namely, that the choices of the individual are allowed to shape him/her self, except in particular cases: namely, those cases in which the agent becomes thoroughly corrupt. There’s an element of divine fiat here that seems out of place. I will develop this objection more thoroughly in my own article on annihilation.
Thank you Nevin, that was well written, and now that I better understand the belief, I can better respect it and those that stand by it.
@John: Apples and screwdrivers are alike in that one can believe whatever one likes about them and still be an orthodox Christian. The hydrogen example was only supposed to illustrate that not every matter is decided for one by the church, even for members of churches with a stronger emphasis on tradition and creeds. Of course universalism is a theological matter, and so that’s a disanalogy. But there are also theological matters that are left open in most traditions, such as the nature of the atonement.
@Ben: “A witty saying proves nothing.” – Voltaire
@Daniel: I think my basic response to your objection will be that everything that’s actually valuable about human freedom is preserved in my view. However, I’ll wait until I see it developed more fully in your article to say more than that. I look forward to reading your post.
@ Nevin,
While it is true that Orthodoxy had not formerly condemned universalism, many of the Fathers have referenced it, either from the works of Origen or of St. Gregory, and have stated explicitly that both were in error on that matter. While one could technically hold to universalism and be in good standing with the Church (I think), I’ll err on the side of caution and stick with what most of the Fathers have said in regards to the doctrine of universalism. I will not presume that my wisdom exceeds their own.
An interesting post, none the less. I enjoyed reading it.
John
@Nevin no it doesn’t but I thought it was fun and witty nonetheless. And it seemed to fit nicely. The premise of the book it is from is Lewis, Kennedy and Huxley discussing Heaven and Hell etc. Obviously Lewis answers his question and says some relevant things to this conversation that if I have time I may get around to posting, but I thought that was fun in the mean time.
@Ben: Fair enough. Some people tend to look at these and other similar matters and say something to the effect of “Well we just can’t know.” (This is a common attitude among my undergraduate philosophy students, for example!) I thought that perhaps the quote was intended to support that attitude.
@John: I’ll just say one more word on this matter. There’s nothing wrong with deferring to wiser authorities on certain matters, but in matters philosophical especially I think it’s important to look at not only whether they accept a position but why they accept or reject it. If, for instance, several Fathers looked at an argument similar to mine and rejected it because they denied some key (sub)premise, and that premise seems to just come down to intuition, then that would be a situation in which it seems to me that it could be perfectly reasonable to defer to them. If they looked at a similar argument and didn’t do a good job of addressing it, then that would be good reason to not defer to them, because it would suggest that they were not being wholly rational in this matter. If they simply never looked at anything resembling my argument and the arguments that they did look at are all fairly weak, that’s a harder case, but still reason to be cautious, I think. (Perhaps they rejected the doctrine because they were only looking at the weakest arguments for it.) I haven’t done enough research in this area to pronounce judgment on which of these cases obtains, but I think if one is going to take such authorities seriously one does need to do such research.
I can’t say whether or not they looked at your argument or a weaker version. But I would guess that it doesn’t come down to argumentation with the Fathers. They are more interested (or so it seems to me) in passing on an unaltered Tradition rather than adhering to something simply because it is philosophically valid. I imagine that if they were presented with your argument, many of them would be knowledgeable enough to dissect it and address it, many having learned philosophy at some point in their lives.
But as I said before concerning Calvinism, the merits of theology based on reason alone, without reference to the Apostolic deposit (this includes the Scriptures) just doesn’t happen in Orthodoxy (and I believe shouldn’t happen at all). If that were the case, as soon as someone comes up with a philosophically valid argument, one might have to alter their faith accordingly, rather then preserve intact the faith “once delivered to all the saints”.
Altering the Orthodoxy faith, unlike many Protestant denominations, doesn’t involve just changing up the list of things we believe in. It means changing the hymnography, the iconography, our prayers, the way we live, etc. All of these are extensions of what we believe and they help preserve the Apostolic deposit. Imagine the change the Orthodox Church would have to make to accommodate Calvinism. The consequences would be disastrous to many of the ways in which we express our faith.
So yes, I reject your argument not because I find something wrong with your premises but because it is absent from the Apostolic deposit. I reject Calvinism for similar reasons. I’ll let those Orthodox Christians who are better equipped philosophically to address those concerns do so. The boys at Energetic Procession are more than qualified to so, so I’ll leave it to them.
I think this is where our differing epistemologies come to the fore. You’re right that on my view, once premises that we accept commit us to conclusions that are novel, we’re obliged to accept those conclusions. That may mean that we will change our beliefs, religious and otherwise, as we gather new evidence and reevaluate the evidence that we have. That’s the whole point. If we’re actually concerned with getting at the truth, then we can’t just start with our conclusions and work backwards to come up with arguments for them. We have to be open to changing our credences in various claims to accord with what our evidence indicates is probably true. Maybe this will lead us to give up deeply held beliefs. And if those beliefs are relevant to the way we live our life, we might drastically alter our lifestyle. That might be painful, but I’d rather know the truth, whether it’s pleasant or not, whether it’s easy or not, than be living my life comfortable but ignorant.
At any rate, even if you disagree with this picture of epistemology, my earlier point about having to reject a premise was simply a matter of logic. If you believe that P, and you believe that P implies Q, but you believe that not-Q, you’re simply contradicting yourself. Now, if you want to hold onto not-Q, but you’re not sure which of the premises is false (or if they both are), it’s open to you to withhold belief in the premises (and maybe that’s what you’re trying to get at). But what you can’t do is hold on to all three of those beliefs at the same time, because then you’re guaranteed to have false beliefs, just as I’m guaranteed to have false beliefs if I believe that it’s raining and I believe that it’s not raining.
@Nevin
But isn’t it true that we CAN’T know? We can make guess work and good arguments and possibly even be right, but can we ever actually know the full workings of God? I have theories on different theological points, but I wouldn’t state that I know any of them are true, they just seem to be supported Biblically and logically, however most of the people I have theological disagreements with can support their positions with the Bible and logic as well. I don’t think anyone can ever know until we get to Heaven, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be explored and discussed.
I agree there are many things we don’t and can’t know. The exact nature of the afterlife is one of them, since no one has been there. However, it is annoying and frustrating to lay down a well-ordered logical argument for something only to have the listener say “well, we can’t really know anything for sure.” and dismiss the entire argument only because they can’t answer it.
@ Lizzy
Nevin’s argument is deductive. If the premises are true, the conclusion must be. If It’s true, and he’s justified in believing it [and not Gettiered for any philosophers out there], then he knows it.
So it turns out he is making a knowledge-claim, and if you want to reply with inscrutability, you’ll have to argue for it.
Dan, I’m not replying to you due to what we’ve discussed before about my window of time in which I can deal with debating you about things…this window has passed today and I’m tired…
Let me explain that I was just replying to Nevin replying to Ben about the “we just can’t know” attitude. I agree that it can be annoying to have that reply after creating a well thought out argument, but I think that state of mind is legit. That’s all.
@Lizzi: If “we can’t know” is just meant to express epistemic humility–to say that we can’t be justifiably certain that our theory is true–then I have no objection to that. The premises of my argument, and hence the conclusion, are not self-evident in the way that “2 + 2 = 4″ and “I seem to be typing on a computer right now” are, and I’m not certain of them in the same sense I’m certain of those self-evident propositions. My premises aren’t even (what we might call) “practically certain,” like the proposition that I have hands. (Although I think the first premise come close; the only rational reason I can think of for doubting it is that God may not exist.) However, I think they are more certain than most, but maybe not all, other theological propositions; and I’m correspondingly more confident in my universalism than in, say, my theory of the atonement, or the accuracy of certain historical claims made in the Bible (e.g., the slaughtering of the innocents in Matthew).
At any rate, what I was objecting to was simply the “we can’t know” attitude being used to close off rational discussion of the matter. But I’m fine with epistemic humility; I think most of us could use quite a bit more of it.
Fair enough
)
Nevin,
It seems that you assume that Christianity didn’t start with Truth, and that even if the Body of Christ did, they certainly didn’t preserve it. I don’t think that this is a valid argument, historically. It’s the same argument that most Protestants make (well, except for the “we didn’t start with truth” part, of course) and it’s an argument that I used to make. For me, it was a baseless assumption. Doing a little (or a lot) of reading of primary sources has certainly changed my mind.
I haven’t started with my conclusion at all. I didn’t just assume that the early Church preserved its doctrine untainted; instead I decided to research it myself. Currently, I have no reason to believe any sort of “great apostasy” theory, whether it be from the Muslim crowd, the Mormon crowd or the Protestant crowd. All of these claims by the aforementioned groups are, frankly, unimpressive and historically inadequate. I don’t know your exact position regarding a possible early Church apostasy, but I take it that your position posits as much, or at least something similar in order to justify a later change in belief that was either not present before or was present, but was lost at some point in time. Or again, perhaps the early Church didn’t start with the entirety of the truth. [i]If[/i] that’s the case, then your argument for something that is new or generally rejected by the majority of Christian writers over the last two millennia doesn’t hold much water for me. I think the evidence for a well preserved Apostolic deposit is far more historically credible than any supposed “great apostasy”.
[i]“And if those beliefs are relevant to the way we live our life, we might drastically alter our lifestyle. That might be painful, but I’d rather know the truth, whether it’s pleasant or not, whether it’s easy or not, than be living my life comfortable but ignorant.”[/i]
I am concerned with getting to the Truth. I would not have become Orthodox if I didn’t care. I might add that my journey to Orthodox was not always pleasant and at times very painful Any charge against me that states that I’m more concerned with living comfortably is refuted by my journey to where I am now. I might also add that Orthodoxy is still painful, even after my conversion.
I’m not sure I would agree to all your premises. I’ll take some time to reread them though. I’m not philosophically adequate to poke holes in everyone’s arguments. I have already admitted as much in one of my previous posts. But I also note that Daniel, although not saying much in regards to your premises has noted that he holds to some sort of annihilationist view of the afterlife. Clearly, if your logic was undeniable, he would be the first to jump ship and join you, I think. I say that much to say that even those who are philosophically inclined are not all in agreement with you. This isn’t an excuse to remain ignorant, rather I think it shows that there’s more to be said beyond what has been said here, or will be said here. I would be happy to take some more time, as I mentioned above, to reread your article and try to understand it as best I can. I may also sit down with a friend or two, provided we both have some time to do so, and chat about what you’ve said here.
John
@John: I apologize for the belatedness of this response. I’ve been traveling the past week and so haven’t been able to keep up with this blog.
Let me begin by trying to clarify my epistemological framework. I do not mean to insinuate that you personally are not concerned at getting at truth. Indeed, you may well be doing a better job of getting at truth than most people (I’ve taught too many undergrads to think that a concern for truth is particularly common in our culture!). I also do not think that I am myself some completely unbiased seeker after truth. However, I think that there are certain approaches to truth that make one more or less likely to arrive at it. And I believe that placing some source, whether tradition or anything else, (logically and epistemically) “above” reason lowers one’s chances of getting at the truth. This is because the only way that we can rationally rely on such sources is through reason, and so we can’t ignore reason when it leads us to conclusions that seem contrary to these other sources.
It is possible to use reason and arguments as post-hoc justification for conclusions that we currently hold even if those conclusions were initially arrived at rationally. Indeed, I suspect that this is the norm in academic circles. If I already believe that P, and then accept any arguments/evidence supporting P and reject any arguments/evidence against P simply on the grounds that P is true, then I’m being irrational regardless of whether my initial belief that P was itself rational or not. In the case of relying on the testimony of some other source, such reliance must itself rely on evidence that that source is reliable if it is to be rational (I think that you agree about this much). But suppose the evidence has led you to believe that some source T is wholly reliable about some intellectual domain. Suppose further that T testifies that not-U. If subsequently you gain evidence that U is true, you have thereby gained evidence against the proposition that T is wholly reliable—since the truth of U implies the partial unreliability of T. Whether that evidence that U is true comes in the form of historical evidence, a philosophical argument, or whatever else, it nevertheless constitutes evidence against the claim that T is wholly reliable. To simply assert that U must be false because T says so is to ignore that evidence, not defeat it.
Note, though, that I used the phrase “wholly reliable” here. If one simply believes that T’s testifying that not-U lowers the probability of U, then that proposition is scarcely touched by strong evidence that U. And indeed, where T is holy tradition and U is universalism (or any other theological claim), I’m more than willing to grant that the testimony of tradition that U is true or false is some evidence that it is true or false. That’s perfectly compatible with there being very strong independent evidence to the contrary of tradition’s testimony. What I deny is that tradition’s testimony entails that U is true or false. But if that were true, then that wouldn’t mean that the case I’ve given isn’t strong evidence for universalism. It would just mean that it’s also strong evidence that T is not wholly reliable. And I should note that this is true regardless of my personal beliefs about apostolic succession or an early apostasy or anything else. Indeed, I could be giving this argument as an atheist, simply starting with premises which Christians would be likely to affirm (and which seem to also be supported by Holy Tradition). As such, it’s inaccurate to say that I “assume that Christianity didn’t start with Truth,” or anything else for that matter. My argument simply does not rely on any claims about the early church, a great apostasy, or anything of that sort.
However, since you brought it up, and because it is relevant to the internal coherence of my beliefs…
I’m guessing that I understand revelation in a narrower sense than you do (and most other Christians, for that matter). God’s primary revelation is Jesus Christ, his Son. (I’m open to the possibilities of other lesser revelations, e.g. in events recorded in the Old Testament, but that’s not important here.) The New Testament, the early church, and the writings of the early church fathers are not themselves revelation. Rather, they are records and interpretations of revelation. I think there’s good objective historical evidence that the New Testament is generally reliable in matters of history. And it’s reasonable to presume that those who were taught by Jesus or knew people who were taught by Jesus would get his message mostly (I won’t say entirely) right. But I simply don’t think that Jesus taught anything one way or another about most theological matters we debate about today. That you or I have certain beliefs about heaven, hell, the nature of the incarnation, et cetera was simply not part of God’s purpose in revealing himself through Jesus. Jesus was primarily concerned with seeing that people lived a certain kind of life and had certain kinds of attitudes (towards life, towards other, towards God) than that we believe certain theological propositions. The early church obsessed over doctrinal matters like the correct model of the incarnation. I don’t think that Jesus would have wanted for these things to be prerequisites for embodying the kingdom of God. This isn’t to say that these matters are unimportant. I’m a philosopher, after all; exploring questions like these is what I do! I just don’t think that they are part of Christian revelation. And there’s no question of whether the early church correctly preserved the correct teachings about theological matters X, Y, and Z when these matters simply weren’t matters of revelation. Intelligent and committed Christians debated these issues in the early church; in some cases they came to a consensus, and in some cases the majority came down on one side even while a minority remained. In either case, intelligent and committed Christians, even ones who had the privilege of having personally known Jesus’ disciples, can be wrong. It’s not that there was a great apostasy. It’s just that most theological matters weren’t part of God’s revelation and so in the case of those, there was nothing to fall away from. When it comes to things that Jesus actually personally taught, or historical events (like the resurrection) to which early Christians were personal witnesses, I’ll readily agree with you that the early church got those right, and if there’s been a falling away, it occurred rather later. But I don’t think the afterlife is in that category.
As for the validity of my argument: Daniel denies my second premise, that if God allows salvation for all, all will choose it. He does this by claiming that some people will become so corrupt that goodness will become psychologically impossible for them. I don’t agree with him on this point, but we’re on the same page as far as the logic of my argument goes. (I also hope to read his post as soon as I’m done posting this, and then proceed to offer such devastating objections that he comes over to my side.
)