New Material!

To no one in particular:

I apologize greatly for not updating. Grad school has kept us all quite busy.

However, I am going to be posting a couple of (interesting) treatments of Schaeffer's work The God Who is There on a friends blog as part of a symposium on Schaeffer. Catch it soon at http://theerstwhilephilistine.wordpress.com/.

Sense and experience

Readers! You are in for a treat. As I mentioned in my prior post, I have introduced two new coauthors to this blog, and will be functioning primarily as editor, moderator, and provide the occasional interjection. Join me in welcome Aldan Shepard to this blog.

-Matt

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Welcome, readers. For my part, I feel that it may be pertinent to begin my writings here with an elaboration on material previously touched on by my acquaintance, now colleague, Ignass. However, being of a different sort of stock, I will attempt to treat the topic of our understanding of mercy from a totally different, hopefully thoughtful, perspective.

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"What does this fish remind you of?"

"Other fish."

"And what do other fish remind you of?

"Other fish."

In the beginning, there was darkness and void. Then, God spoke, and the universe exploded in a dazzling blaze of light and fury. Again, God spoke, and out of chaos, order emerged. Stars were formed, swirling dust congealed into planets, indeed, heaven and earth were made separate. And again, God spoke, and out of lumps of dust was brought forth a multitude of magnificent organisms, perfect in form and function. And with this magnificence, He did not cease, but again, spoke, and the image of himself was born into his own monologue. This image possessed eyes to see, and ears to hear, the things which God had spoken, even a voice to speak of himself.

Indeed, it is as though everything that has ever been done is merely God's speaking to us. Thus, all of our sense are tuned to listen to a language, spoken from the very mouth that created us, and yet now you may say "Why do we not understand that God exists? Why do we not understand Him as He is?" Indeed! What are the criteria for understanding such a language?

In order for us to make headway in answering this question, we shall have to return to the beginning, not chronologically, but to the most basic of inquiries about the spoken word, and other, much simpler, languages. I will not claim the ideas of language which I draw on are my own, but I must digress until we have a firm grasp and can continue comfortably into the application. I will freely quote Wittgenstein in the following discourse, however, I will not make use of quotations. Feel free to interpret this as meaning: when I talk about language, I am quoting or borrowing ideas from Wittgenstein (though, it is true, not in every case), and when I talk about theology, I am making an application of these ideas.

1.) What is the purpose of a word? One might respond by saying "to be a place holder for a part of reality. To indicate an object.

2.) The questions "What is length?", "What is meaning?", "What is the number one?" etc, produce in us a mental cramp. We feel that we can't point to anything in reply to them, and yet ought to point to something.

3.) In some sense, those who say that words offer ostensive definition would be right. Certainly, one would believe that when I say pencil, and point to a pencil, I have indicated the definition of the word. But then, to what do we ascribe the action of saying "round" and pointing to the pencil? Or perhaps "wood". And further still, consider words like "Justice", "Mercy", "Love". Certainly, it is not hard to point to instances of these, but just try to point to the concept "red" itself.

4.) Suppose we show a person a banjo, having never before seen one, and say "This is a banjo". Possibly the word "guitar" will then come into his mind, possibly no word at all but the image of a similar instrument, possibly nothing. Suppose then I give him the order "now pick a banjo from amongst these things." If he picks what we call a "banjo" we might say "he has given it the correct meaning", if he picks some other instrument -- "He has interpreted 'banjo' to mean 'string instrument'".

5.) It may be said that there are characteristic experiences of actions such as "pointing to the shape of a thing".

For example, one may follow the contour with one's eyes, or point and follow it with one's finger. But no such experience happens in all the cases, even necessarily in all the cases where I intend the shape of a thing as the ostensive definition of the word "round". We may be concerned that we cannot necessarily separate pointing at the shape from pointing at the colour.

6.) The definition of the number two, "That is called 'two'" -- pointing to two nuts -- is perfectly exact. -- But how can the number two be defined like that? The person one gives the definition to doesn't know what it is that one wants to call "two"; he will suppose that "two" is the name given to this group of nuts!

7.) Do not cling to the idea that there exist indestructible objects outside the world to which we effectively point when teaching someone concepts such as "red". Such a thing is by no means a necessity. Do you really think that the concept "red" would not fade when nothing red exists anymore in the world?

8.) Rather consider this: that the understanding of a concept is not found in pointing at one particular thing, but in eliciting the kind of behaviour which we ascribe to the understanding of the concept. The banjo, being a prime example. However, consider also: suppose I write out an algebraic series, and say "continue the series". Perhaps the series is that of squares: 1 4 9 16 ... Suppose my student writes out the series correctly for a few more terms. How many terms must he write before I can say that he has understood? Or must he have the language of algebra (the idea of the series of squares) to express that he has understood. By no means! For this language can have just as little meaning for him as that of his understanding of what must follow in the series.

9.) And not all concepts can be so "precisely" defined. One can say the concept of a game is a concept with blurred edges. For example, chess and other board games may fit a nice, exact definition. But, we find this definition lacking when considering children's games (ring around the rosie), or even when considering games whose rules may change as the game is played (such as many among children). We would like to say that these are games, but any delineation of the concept "game" is dissastisfying. There are always games which do not fit our dilineation

10.) "But is a blurred concept a concept at all?" -- Is a photograph that is not sharp a picture of a person at all?

Some might compare a concept to a delineated region, so that something without clear boundaries cannot be a concept. But then, is it nonsense to tell a person "Stay roughly here"? I do not bother to draw a boundary, in the same way that I may delineate a concept by examples, and the concept's having been understood is not evidenced by a drawing of boundaries, but by the proper application of the examples.

11.) What we are trying to demonstrate here, is that there is an inextricable link between concepts and things. That is to say, we can point only to things, and concepts are said to be understood when a person behaves in such and such a way. One cannot hope to give a criterion for the understanding of a concept. Even a simple one such as colour.

12.) Consider even the problem of the interpretation of a chart. Suppose I have the colours in the left column, and their word-equivalents in the right column. One might say that from this, the ostensive definition of the colour words is clear. However, how am I to interpret the chart? Do I read from left to right? Or perhaps the correct word is the one on the next row down. Or perhaps any arbitrarily complex rule. So, am I now to define a schema of "arrows" showing the way to interpret the chart. And still here, the interpretation of the schema of arrows is in question. No, like this, we would go on forever.

13.) And so we find the difficulty of teaching. We would like to point at concepts, but can only point at objects, hoping that the concepts will be shown to be understood. But our only hope that the our student has the "experience of understanding" is based upon our observing the behaviour we expect from our student's having understood the "concept of red". For example, fetching us a red rose when we ask.

14.) But how then, do we consider the understanding of the sense language? The understand of the divine experience? We can observe peoples reactions to these experiences, and would like to be able to teach people about them in the same way we would teach the concept "round". Yet, there can be no such thing as "pointing at the divine experience".

15.) "Can we demonstrate red by pointing at things which are not red?" Put another way, suppose I show you purple, and I show you brown, and I say "Red is what is common between these." Can you now show me what red is?

16.) Can you explain God by pointing at something that is not God? Or perhaps, not quite God? Here we find the difficulty of understanding the personality of our creator as a whole. One has a hard time experiencing NOT a thing and then trying to understand the thing itself.

17.) I can convey some knowledge, but not the "feeling of knowing", the latter is not a part of language.

"Compare knowing and being able to say: how high Mont Blanc is (in metres) -- How the word 'game' is used -- The way a clarinet sounds."

18.) Do not cling to the idea that, when describing coffee, one merely lacks the words. For what are the words lacking?

What would be the criteria of there being words?

19.) In this same way, we can think of systematic theology as a language. So long as one applies the inference rules, starting from some "true" basic premises, one can certainly arrive at all sorts of interesting statements. Yet, meaning in all of this can only be had if the fundamental premises are understood experientially.If not understood in this way, the whole of systematic theology becomes a mere tower of babel, a monument to man's attempt to equalize himself to God, and still infinitely far from the One to whom it is aspiring.

20.) Further the rigour of the structure becomes a kind of stumbling block. Our heads are filled. We cease to notice that we do not really understand.

21.) But then, how infinitely rich are those who possess the understanding, and the theology?

22.) A man says "I have not heard the voice of God", or "God does not speak to me", or even "I will believe in God if he shows himself to me". But! If God truly spoke the world into existence, then in some sense, all that exists is God speaking to us through our senses. You object "but that is not divine!" -- But what other form of communication did you really expect? One cannot imagine it, but would still like to say "It must be different."

23.) Probably, one expects some form which is obviously still sensory -- speaking english perhaps. This form is remarkable to that individual only because the experience is an "unusual" sensory experience. But what is so remarkable about this? Its uniqueness is merely an illusion.

24.) Miracles are a necessity only because man is hard of hearing. They are like shouting when a whisper carries the same meaning. Perhaps the whisper even contains the better meaning. Only then is it spoken in the voice it was meant to be spoken.

25.) Consider a child eating the pages of a bible. Certainly he is feeding upon the word, but is it nourishing him? Ha! Not in either sense.

26.) "Experience is irreplacable" extends to our theological leanings. The reformed christian as a cultural product has no experience. Therefore he has no faith! And this, in spite of the eloquence of his apologetics.

27.) As belief requires an understanding of the sense language, how then can we expect to come to faith without understanding the language. Can we make the leap from not understanding to an understanding of ourselves? Can we will it to occur? And thus the difficulty of the Arminian. If I understand the language already, would I not already have faith? How could I not believe, when the evidence is all around me? Understanding and belief are impossibly intertwined. This is a braid which cannot be unravelled.

28.) Then the disciples came and said to Jesus, "Why do you speak to them in parables?" And he answered them, "To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. For to the one who has, more will be given, and he will have an abundance, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. This is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. Indeed, in their case the prophecy of Isaiah is fulfilled that says:

You will indeed hear but never understand,

and you will indeed see but never perceive.

For this people's heart has grown dull,

and with their ears they can barely hear,

and their eyes they have closed,

lest they should see with their eyes

and hear with their ears

and understand with their heart

and turn, and I would heal them

But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear.

29.) But we must concede. Were he to speak to them plainly, not in parables, but perhaps rigourously. Transparently. Would they then understand? No! Christ is not witholding the truth from them, for the truth finds its way into the hearts of those who possess the criterion, and could never be understood by anyone else, no matter how plainly put. Indeed "plainly" is a misleading word, for it seems to indicate that understanding can be conveyed to anyone, if only one were to speak "correctly". But what is correct, what is plain, is only so to those who can understand.

30.) Which is better? A rigourous explaination, or a simple analogy? Which communicates an idea more effectively? What is the necessity of the proof? If we accept our criterion of understanding, the proof is merely an after thought, and no more effective at causing belief than a simple analogy. Certainly its rigour can be more an obstacle than a guide.

31.) Then, the point of parables is like unto the opposite of miracles. The parable is the quiet miracle which works in our hearts. It is the gospel spoken in a language meant for it. The parable whispers the truth to the hearts of those who can understand it plainly.

32.) And so, in order to understand the sense language, I must be taught. I must learn to say, these are the things which are divine. But how can a teacher teach me these things? He can not point at the "sensation of knowing" that what we see and feel is from God. This experience cannot be coerced in a man. Rather, it is perhaps like this: that I have the experience of seeing and knowing the divine, and then the teacher can say "Aha! What you have experienced is the divine". But then, what has he really taught me that I did not already know? Only the word. The means to communicate my sensation to others who themselves, have already understood the experience.

-Aldan Shepard

Tags: Language, Theology, Mercy

Announcing new authors

Well, it has certainly been a while, but I am pleased to finally have some new content for my readers, with some variety to boot.

I have invited a couple of friends to collaborate here. This is partially to alleviate the burden of content from myself, as my ideas come slowly and with great pains and labor. However, this is also to give you all some philosophical variety.

So, I now introduce to you: Ignass Kristensen and Aldan Shepard, two students of philosophy that I have met in my time abroad in these United States as a graduate student. Aldan is, in particular, a student of Analytical Philosophy, and I hope that he will provide a quite unique perspective on the issues which we intend to discuss. I will serve, for the most part, as a moderator and synthesizer, bring their ideas together, and -- hopefully -- maintaining harmony on this blog.

Today, you will enjoy a post from Aldan, touching on the ideas that are touched in the previous post, from a totally different perspective. His writing is meandering and thoughtful, and a pleasure to read.

As to our other new author, I must admit that I owe a good deal of the ideas and language of the previous post to Ignass (and ultimately, Kierkegaard, in case you didn't notice). I hope you will all interpret that post as characteristic of his style, until such a time as he makes a contribution complete his own.

-Matt