Monday, July 1, 2013

What Is Involved in a "Profession of the True Religion"?: Some Thoughts on the Unity and Purity of the Church In Light of the Historic Reformed Tradition

The Westminster Confession of Faith, along with other historic Reformed standards, defines the visible church as consisting of "all those throughout the world that profess the true religion; and of their children."  It also teaches that there is only one church, and that that one church is to be unified in formal communion throughout the world.  An essential component of the basis of this union is to be a common profession of the true religion.  But what does such a profession involve?  How much agreement must there be?  There seems to be significant confusion on this subject in Reformed and evangelical circles today.  I would like to try to contribute some clarity to this subject by looking at a few sample quotations from some important Reformed writings on the church from the past few centuries and then making some comments on them.

Let me say at the outset that I am not certain I fully know how to deal with every aspect of this subject myself, and I am not certain that my discussion below captures in its fullness or with complete accuracy the historic Reformed stance on some of these issues.  More dialogue and feedback are invited.  (Note: Since writing this, I have come to some firmer conclusions on many of these matters, and those conclusions can be read about here and here.)

I will start with a rather lengthy set of quotations.  Perhaps the lengthiness may be regarded as overkill, but I think it is important to provide a somewhat thorough foundation in these quotations for what I am going to say afterwards.

This is the Westminster Confession of Faith, 25:2-5:

2. The visible Church, which is also catholic or universal under the Gospel (not confined to one nation as before under the law), consists of all those throughout the world that profess the true religion; and of their children: and is the kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ, the house and family of God, out of which there is no ordinary possibility of salvation.

3. Unto this catholic visible Church Christ hath given the ministry, oracles, and ordinances of God, for the gathering and perfecting of the saints, in this life, to the end of the world: and doth by His own presence and Spirit, according to His promise, make them effectual thereunto.

4. This catholic Church hath been sometimes more, sometimes less visible. And particular Churches, which are members thereof, are more or less pure, according as the doctrine of the Gospel is taught and embraced, ordinances administered, and public worship performed more or less purely in them.

5. The purest Churches under heaven are subject both to mixture and error: and some have so degenerated, as to become no Churches of Christ, but synagogues of Satan. Nevertheless, there shall be always a Church on earth, to worship God according to His will.

Westminster Confession, 26:2:

Saints by profession are bound to maintain a holy fellowship and communion in the worship of God; and in performing such other spiritual services as tend to their mutual edification; as also in relieving each other in outward things, according to their several abilities, and necessities. Which communion, as God offereth opportunity, is to be extended unto all those who, in every place, call upon the name of the Lord Jesus.

The Form of Presbyterial Church-Government (another of the documents written up by the Westminster divines and adopted by the Church of Scotland in the Second Reformation period), "Of the Church":

THERE is one general church visible, held forth in the New Testament.

The ministry, oracles, and ordinances of the New Testament, are given by Jesus Christ to the general church visible, for the gathering and perfecting of it in this life, until his second coming.

Particular visible churches, members of the general church, are also held forth in the New Testament. Particular churches in the primitive times were made up of visible saints, viz. of such as, being of age, professed faith in Christ, and obedience unto Christ, according to the rules of faith and life taught by Christ and his apostles; and of their children.

From the same document, from the section titled "Of Particular Congregations":

IT is lawful and expedient that there be fixed congregations, that is, a certain company of Christians to meet in one assembly ordinarily for publick worship. When believers multiply to such a number, that they cannot conveniently meet in one place, it is lawful and expedient that they should be divided into distinct and fixed congregations, for the better administration of such ordinances as belong unto them, and the discharge of mutual duties.

And another from the same document, from the sections titled "Of Church Government" and ""Of the Power In Common of All These Assemblies":

It is lawful, and agreeable to the word of God, that the church be governed by several sorts of assemblies, which are congregational, classical, and synodical.
It is lawful, and agreeable to the word of God, that the several assemblies before mentioned have power to convent, and call before them, any person within their several bounds, whom the ecclesiastical business which is before them doth concern.
They have power to hear and determine such causes and differences as do orderly come before them.
It is lawful, and agreeable to the word of God, that all the said assemblies have some power to dispense church-censures.

These quotations are from The Institutes of the Christian Religion by John Calvin (the Henry Beveridge translation, as found at the website of the Center for Reformed Theology and Apologetics), Book IV, Chapter 1, Sections 9-10.  Calvin speaks of the unity of the church and the marks of a true church.

But that we may have a clear summary of this subject, we must proceed by the following steps: - The Church universal is the multitude collected out of all nations, who, though dispersed and far distant from each other, agree in one truth of divine doctrines and are bound together by the tie of a common religion. In this way it comprehends single churches, which exist in different towns and villages, according to the wants of human society, so that each of them justly obtains the name and authority of the Church; and also comprehends single individuals, who by a religious profession are accounted to belong to such churches, although they are in fact aliens from the Church, but have not been cut off by a public decision.

There is, however, a slight difference in the mode of judging of individuals and of churches. For it may happen in practice that those whom we deem not altogether worthy of the fellowship of believers, we yet ought to treat as brethren and regard as believers on account of the common consent of the Church in tolerating and bearing with them in the body of Christ. Such persons we do not approve by our suffrage as members of the Church, but we leave them the place which they hold among the people of God, until they are legitimately deprived of it.

With regard to the general body we must feel differently; if they have the ministry of the word, and honour the administration of the sacraments, they are undoubtedly entitled to be ranked with the Church, because it is certain that these things are not without a beneficial result. Thus we both maintain the Church universal in its unity, which malignant minds have always been eager to dissever, and deny not due authority to lawful assemblies distributed as circumstances require.

We have said that the symbols by which the Church is discerned are the preaching of the word and the observance of the sacraments, for these cannot any where exist without producing fruit and prospering by the blessing of God. I say not that wherever the word is preached fruit immediately appears; but that in every place where it is received, and has a fixed abode, it uniformly displays its efficacy. Be this as it may, when the preaching of the gospel is reverently heard, and the sacraments are not neglected, there for the time the face of the Church appears without deception or ambiguity; and no man may with impunity spurn her authority, or reject her admonitions, or resist her counsels, or make sport of her censures, far less revolt from her, and violate her unity, (see Chap. 2 sec. 1, 10, and Chap. 3. sec. 12.) For such is the value which the Lord sets on the communion of his Church, that all who contumaciously alienate themselves from any Christian society, in which the true ministry of his word and sacraments is maintained, he regards as deserters of religion. So highly does he recommend her authority, that when it is violated he considers that his own authority is impaired.

Calvin goes on to say (Section 12) that unity does not depend on agreement in absolutely everything.  Churches can have errors which do not violate the unity of the faith.  There is a distinction between what is absolutely necessary and what is not.

When we say that the pure ministry of the word and pure celebration of the sacraments is a fit pledge and earnest, so that we may safely recognise a church in every society in which both exists our meaning is that we are never to discard it so long as these remain, though it may otherwise teem with numerous faults.

Nay, even in the administration of word and Sacraments defects may creep in which ought not to alienate us from its communion. For all the heads of true doctrine are not in the same position. Some are so necessary to be known, that all must hold them to be fixed and undoubted as the proper essentials of religion: for instance, that God is one, that Christ is God, and the Son of God, that our salvation depends on the mercy of God, and the like. Others, again, which are the subject of controversy among the churches, do not destroy the unity of the faith; for why should it be regarded as a ground of dissension between churches, if one, without any spirit of contention or perverseness in dogmatising, holds that the soul on quitting the body flies to heaven, and another, without venturing to speak positively as to the abode, holds it for certain that it lives with the Lord? The words of the apostle are, "Let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus minded: and if in any thing ye be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this unto you," (Phil. 3: 15.) Does he not sufficiently intimate that a difference of opinion as to these matters which are not absolutely necessary, ought not to be a ground of dissension among Christians? The best thing, indeed, is to be perfectly agreed, but seeing there is no man who is not involved in some mist of ignorance, we must either have no church at all or pardon delusion in those things of which one may be ignorant, without violating the substance of religion and forfeiting salvation.

Here, however, I have no wish to patronise even the minutest errors, as if I thought it right to foster them by flattery or connivance; what I say is, that we are not on account of every minute difference to abandon a church, provided it retain sound and unimpaired that doctrine in which the safety of piety consists, and keep the use of the sacraments instituted by the Lord. Meanwhile, if we strive to reform what is offensive, we act in the discharge of duty. To this effect are the words of Paul, "If any thing be revealed to another that sitteth by, let the first hold his peace," (1 Cor. 14: 30.) From this it is evident that to each member of the Church, according to his measure of grace, the study of public edification has been assigned, provided it be done decently and in order. In other words, we must neither renounce the communion of the Church, nor, continuing in it, disturb peace and discipline when duly arranged.

These quotations are from Fisher's Catechism, in the section explaining Question 95.  This catechism was written by ministers of the Secession in the mid-eighteenth century in order to provide further commentary on the Westminster Shorter Catechism.

Q. 17. What is it to profess faith in Christ?
A. It is to profess a belief of the whole doctrines of the Christian religion, Acts 8:37.

Q. 21. Who are the members of the visible church?
A. They "are all such as profess the true religion, and their children."

Q. 22. What are we to understand by the true religion?
A. We are to understand by it the whole of those doctrines deduced from the holy scriptures, which are contained in our Confession of Faith, and Catechisms, as agreeing, in the main, with the Confessions of other reformed churches, 2 Tim. 1:13 -- "Hold fast the form of sound words."
 
Q. 23. What is it to profess the true religion?
A. It is openly to acknowledge, on all proper occasions, a steadfast adherence to the whole of divine truth; without espousing or countenancing any opposite error, Psalm 119:105. Rom. 10:10.

OK, one more set of quotations.  This is a bit of a lengthy set, but well worth it.  These are from Thomas McCrie's work, Two Discourses on the Unity of the Church (Edinburgh: William Blackwood, 1821).  This is a famous and highly respected (and justly so) work on the nature and unity of the church.  (It is one of my favorites.)  It can be found here.

The visible church considered as catholic or universal, consists of all those throughout the world who profess the true religion, together with their children. The variety of particular churches, when regularly constituted, does not imply any separation from or opposition to one another. The catholic church subsists in and is composed of the several particular churches, of larger or less extent, in the different parts of the Christian world; and none of these are to be excluded from it as long as they retain the true and distinctive characters of such a society as the word of God describes it to be (p. 14).

Christianity being intended for general diffusion through the world, must in its nature be adapted to all countries and people. It would be extreme weakness to suppose, that its being embraced by people of different garbs, colour, and language, of different manners and customs, barbarous or civilized, or formed into distinct civil communities and living under different forms of government, produces different religions, or a diversity of churches, provided their faith and practice are intrinsically the same. Their formularies of faith and religious service may be differently expressed or arranged, and they may vary from one another in different circumstances in external administrations, which are not, and could not be, prescribed by positive rule in Scripture, and which (to use a much abused word) may be called circumstantial, without marring that unity of faith and that fellowship which belongs to different Christian societies, as parts of the same general body. Nor is simple ignorance in some and knowledge in others, with respect to some things which belong to the Christian system, or greater and less degrees of advancement in different churches, or in the members of the same church, necessarily inconsistent with religious unity and peace. But there must be no denial or restriction of the supreme authority by which every thing in religion is ruled; no open and allowed hostility to truth and godliness; and no such opposition of sentiments, or contrariety of practices, as may endanger the faith, or destroy the constitution and edification of churches, or as may imply, in different churches, or in different parts of the same church, a condemnation of one another.

As there were synagogues among the Jews, so there must be assemblies among Christians for divine worship and instruction, and for the exercise of discipline. The unity of the church requires that we join in communion with our fellow Christians, in the place where providence has cast our lot, provided they are found walking by the common rule of Christianity, and as long as no sinful bar is laid in the way of such a conjunction. And our statedly holding communion with a particular church is the ordinary way of manifesting our communion with the catholic church. But as individual Christians are not at liberty to walk and act singly, so neither are particular congregations at liberty to act as independent and disjointed societies. For the ordinary performance of religious duties, and the ordinary management of their own internal affairs, they may be said to be complete churches, and furnished with complete powers. But extraordinary cases will arise among themselves from time to time; and there are, besides, duties, dangers, and interests, which do not properly or exclusively concern one congregation, or a few congregations, and which require the joint cognizance and co-operation of many. This is taught by the light of nature itself, it flows from the oneness of the Church of Christ, and is clearly exemplified in the New Testament. Being similar parts of the same general body, it is the duty of particular churches to draw together, to combine, and to co-operate, according as this may be practicable, and as providence may open a door for it, with a view to mutual help and the promotion of the common cause in which they are all engaged. They may agree in explicitly approving of the same articles of faith and rules of discipline, and in yielding a scriptural subjection to a common authority in the Lord. Such confederations, on the presbyterian plan, are fully warranted by the word of God, and are most congenial to the spirit of Christianity, which is catholic and diffusive; they may include all the churches in the same neighbourhood, in the same nation, or even in many nations; and by means of them that unity which belongs essentially to the whole church of Christ is formally recognized, and its bonds are strengthened and drawn more close.

Is it then asked, What is the bond of unity in the church? the reply may be given in one word--The true religion. Religion, as communicated by God to men in the Bible, is its grand comprehensive bond. This specificates and distinguishes it from the unity which belongs to other societies. The sacred Scriptures not only exhibit the model after which the church is to be constructed; they also furnish that which gives it substance, and stability, and order, and proportion and unity. It is "built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner-stone, in whom all the building, fitly framed together, groweth into a holy temple in the Lord *" (pp. 14-17).

"There is one body," because there is "one faith." A system of faith or of revealed truth, as well as of duties, has in every age formed an essential and important part of true religion. By embracing this the Church is distinguished from other societies, and it belongs to her faithfully to confess and hold it forth to the world. An owning of the whole faith is implied in her reception of the Scriptures; she is bound to obey the calls of providence in explicitly confessing and contending for particular articles of it; and there is no article of divine truth that may not at one time or another become the object of this duty, and consequently a test of her fidelity. Hence, she is called "the city of truth", as well as "the habitation of righteousness;" her gates are open to receive "the righteous nation that keepeth the truth ;" and truth is inscribed on her columns, and on the banners which float on her walls and bulwarks. When this is not the case, Christian societies are destitute of the unity of the Church of Christ, by whatever ties they may be kept together (p. 18-19).

Mournful as the divisions of the church are, and anxious as all its genuine friends must be to see them cured, it is their duty to examine carefully the plans which may be proposed for attaining this desirable end. We must not do evil that good may come; and there are sacrifices too costly to be made for the procuring of peace with fellow-christians. Is it necessary to remind you, that unity and peace are not always good, nor a sure and infallible mark of a true and pure church? We know that there is a church which has long boasted of her catholic unity notwithstanding all the corruptions which pollute her communion; and that within her pale the whole world called Christian once enjoyed a profound repose, and it could be said, "Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language." It was a union and peace founded in ignorance, delusion, implicit faith, and a base subjection to human authority; and supported by the arts of compulsion and terror. But there are other methods by which Christians may be deceived, and the interests of religion deeply injured, under the pretext or with the view of uniting its friends. Among these I know none more imposing, nor from which greater danger is to be apprehended in the present time, than that which proceeds on the scheme of principles usually styled latitudinarian.

It has obtained this name because it proclaims an undue latitude in matters of religion, which persons may take to themselves or give to others. Its abettors make light of the differences which subsist among religious parties, and propose to unite them on the common principles on which they are already agreed, in the way of burying the rest in silence, or of stipulating mutual forbearance and charity with respect to every thing about which they may differ in opinion or in practice. Some plead for this on the ground that the several professions of religion differ very little from one another, and are all conducive to the happiness of mankind and the honour of God, who is pleased with the various and diversified modes in which men profess their regard to him, provided only they are sincere in their professions; a principle of difformity, which, however congenial to the system of polytheism, is utterly eversive of a religion founded on the unity of the divine nature and will, and on a revelation which teaches us what we are to believe concerning God and what duty he requires of us. But the ground on which this plan is ordinarily made to rest is a distinction made among the articles of religion. Some of these are called essential, or fundamental, or necessary, or principal; others circumstantial, or non-fundamental, or unnecessary, or less important. The former, it is pleaded, are embraced by all true Christians; the latter form the subjects of difference among them, and ought not to enter into the terms of ecclesiastical fellowship*. On this principle some of them would conciliate and unite all the Christian denominations, not excepting Papists, Arians, and Socinians; while others restrict their plan to those called evangelical, who differ mainly in their views and practice as to the worship, order, and discipline of the Church.

The distinction on which this scheme rests, is itself liable to objections which appear insuperable. It is not warranted by the word of God; and the most acute of its defenders have never been able to state it in a manner that is satisfactory, or which renders it subservient to any practical use. The Scripture, indeed, speaks of certain truths which may be called the foundation, because they are first laid, and others depend on them — first principles, or elementary truths, which are to be taught before others. But their priority or posteriority in point of order, in conception or instruction, does not determine the relative importance of doctrines, or their necessity in order to salvation, far less does it determine the propriety of their being made to enter into the religious profession of Christians and Christian churches. — There are doctrines, too, which intrinsically, and on different accounts, may be said to have a peculiar and superior degree of importance; and this, so far as known, may properly be urged as a motive for our giving the more earnest heed to them. It is not, however, their comparative importance or utility, but their truth and the authority of him who has revealed them, which is the formal and proper reason of our receiving, professing, and maintaining them. And this applies equally to all the contents of a divine revelation. The relations of truths, especially those of a supernatural kind, are manifold and incomprehensible by us; it is not our part to pronounce a judgment on them; and if we could see them, as God does, in all their extent and at once, we would behold the lesser joined to the greater, the most remote connected with the primary, by necessary and indissoluble links, and all together conspiring to form one beautiful and harmonious and indivisible whole. Whatever God has revealed we are bound to receive and hold fast, whatever he has enjoined we are bound to obey; and the liberty which we dare not arrogate to ourselves we cannot give to others. It is not, indeed, necessary that the confession or testimony of the church (meaning by this that which is explicitly made by her, as distinguished from her declared adherence to the whole word of God) should contain all truths; but then any of them may come to be included in it, when opposed and endangered; and it is no sufficient reason for excluding any of them that they are less important than others, or that they have been doubted and denied by good and learned men. Whatever forbearance may be exercised to persons, "the word of the Lord," in all its extent, "must have free course and be glorified;" and any act of men — call it forbearance or what you will — which serves as a screen and protection to error or sin, and prevents it from being opposed and removed by any proper means, is contrary to the divine law, and consequently is destitute of all intrinsic force and validity. — There are truths also which are more immediately connected with salvation. But who will pretend to fix those propositions which are absolutely necessary to be known, in order to salvation — by all persons — of all capacities— and in all situations; or say how low a God of grace and salvation may descend in dealing with particular individuals? Or, if we could determine this extreme point, who would say that it ought to fix the rule of our dealing with others, or the extent of a church's profession of faith? Is nothing else to be kept in view in settling articles of faith and fellowship, but what may be necessary to the salvation of sinners? Do we not owe a paramount regard to the glory of God in the highest, to the edifying of the body of Christ, to the advancing of the general interests of religion, and to the preserving, in purity, of those external means, by which, in the economy of providence and grace, the salvation of men, both initial and progressive, may be promoted to an incalculable extent from age to age? — In fine, there is reason for complaining that the criteria or marks given for determining these fundamental or necessary articles, are uncertain or contradictory. Is it alleged, that they are clearly taught in Scripture? This is true of others also. 'That they are few and simple?' This is contradicted by their own attempts to state them. 'That they are such as the Scripture has declared to be necessary ?' Why then have we not yet been furnished with a catalogue of them? 'That they are such as are embraced by all true Christians?' Have they a secret tact by which they are able to discover such characters? If not, can they avoid running into a vitious circle in reasoning, by first determining who are true Christians by their embracing certain doctrines, and then determining that these doctrines are fundamental because they are embraced by persons of that description?

Many who have contributed to give currency to this scheme have been actuated, I have no doubt, by motives which are in themselves highly commendable. They wished to fix the attention of men on matters confessedly of great importance, and were anxious to put an end to the dissensions of Christians by discovering a mean point in which the views of all might harmoniously meet. But surely those who cherish a supreme regard for divine authority will be afraid of contemning or of teaching others to think lightly of any thing which bears its sacred impress. They will be disposed carefully to reconsider an opinion, or an interpretation of any part of Scripture, which seems to imply in it, that God has given to men a power to dispense with some of his own laws. And they will be cautious of originating or countenancing plans of communion that may involve a principle of such a complexion. These plans are more or less dangerous according to the extent to which they are carried, and the errors or abuses which may prevail among the parties which they embrace. But however limited they may be, they set an example which may be carried to any extent. So far as it is agreed and stipulated, that any truth or duty shall be sacrificed or neglected, and that any error or sin shall be treated as indifferent or trivial, the essence of latitudinarianism is adopted, room is made for further advancements, and the way is prepared for ascending, through successive gradations, to the very highest degree in the scale (pp. 88-94).

Now, having read through all of these quotations, let's piece together the Reformed view of the unity of the church and the sort of profession of faith that is required for that unity.  Go back and re-read the very first quotation from the Westminster Confession, WCF 25:2-5.  It seems to me that there are a number of different interpretations of this section of the Confession that are held today in Reformed circles.

One of these interpretations is what I will call the latitudinarian, semi-congregationalist interpretation.  It goes like this:  When the Confession speaks of particular churches, more or less pure, which are members of the one visible catholic church, it is referring to (or at least one of the things it is referring to, as we use it in our day, is) all the different denominations that exist today (such as the OPC, the PCA, the FPCS, the RPCNA, etc.) which hold to the "essentials" of Christianity.  The "essentials" of Christianity include the things one must know for salvation--such as that God exists, that salvation is by grace through faith, etc.--as opposed to biblical doctrines that are not necessary to be known for salvation--such as infant baptism, the presbyterian nature of church government, what should be sung in the worship of the church, etc.  This list of essentials differs somewhat from person to person.  Excluded from the visible church are churches and denominations that violate the essential doctrines of Christianity.

But I do not think that this is the correct interpretation.  This interpretation commits two errors which the Reformed tradition has traditionally been opposed to:  1. Semi-congregationalism.  2. Latitudinarianism.

I've discussed semi-congregationalism many times (some might say ad nauseum) in this blog.  (See other articles under the label "Presbyterian church government" to see these discussions.)  In a presbyterian system of church government, the formal unity of the church throughout the world is to manifest itself in all churches being under mutually binding councils--sessions are to be united in presbyteries, presbyteries in national councils, national churches in ecumenical councils, etc.  Denominationalism is essentially foreign to the presbyterian idea of the nature of the church.  The very idea of having groups of  true churches (that is, denominations) functioning in formal isolation from other groups of  true churches without any mutual accountability is not presbyterian at all but exhibits what I call a "semi-congregationalist" view of the church.

This is evident from the various quotations above.  The Westminster Standards are quite clear that there is only one church, that communion is to be exercised not just within little cliques within the church but between all those who profess the truth faith and between all churches, that all churches are to be united in mutually-binding councils, that distinctions between churches are to be logistical only (such as having multiple congregations because there are too many people to meet in one place, etc.), not due to divisions in doctrine or practice or independent governments.  Calvin uses very strong language to emphasize the necessity of the unity of the church.  Once a church has been labeled a true church, he says it is only on pain of damnation that we can spurn her authority or violate her unity.  So semi-congregationalism is out.  We cannot regard the "particular churches" that are members of the catholic visible church as different denominations.  Some evangelicals may wish to read the words in that way, but those who are Reformed should know that the words, interpreted in their own Reformed context, cannot refer to the utterly alien idea of denominationalism.  These particular churches are parts of one single denomination of Christians.

The latitudinarianism of the above interpretation of the Confession likewise seems to be at odds with the historic Reformed perspective on such matters.  The selections from Thomas McCrie provide a very clear attack on latitudinarianism, the idea that the "profession of the true religion" that binds the church together consists only of a profession of some sub-set of the entirety of what the Bible teaches--of the "essential" as opposed to the "non-essential" doctrines.  It is interesting to compare Calvin's words on this subject with McCrie's.  At first glance, particularly to those influenced by modern evangelical thinking, it may appear that Calvin has a very different opinion on this subject than does McCrie.  It is natural for a modern evangelical to read Calvin as affirming a latitudinarian distinction between essential and non-essential doctrines.  I used to read him in that way.  For some years I believed that there was a rift between Calvin and later Reformed churches on this subject.  I understood Calvin to be saying that some sub-set of biblical doctrine is necessary for church unity (a sub-set that would include things like "there is only one God" but exclude things like "infants should be baptized"), and that there should be no denominational divisions between all churches that hold this sub-set of doctrine.  On the other hand, I saw that modern Reformed denominations keep up denominational divisions with regard to the "lesser matters" (like infant baptism) as well.  I agreed with the modern Reformed churches against Calvin (though I always felt a bit of discomfort, like I was missing something--which I was), because I felt the church ought to require of elders (though not members) in the church that they hold to the "whole counsel of God."

One thing that used to bug me when I read Calvin in that way was that when he actually gives a description of a matter deemed "not necessary," he picks what looked to my evangelical eyes like a really wimpy example--two churches, one of which holds that when believers die they go to heaven to be with God while the other holds that when believers die they go somewhere to be with God.  Why didn't he pick something more substantial, like churches teaching "soul-sleep" or rejecting infant baptism or accepting the apocrypha, etc.?  Surely true Christians might be able to be in error on these matters and still be truly regenerate, so how can these be considered necessary for salvation and so made a matter of division between churches?  It almost looked like Calvin had a much narrower view than I did as to what sorts of things should be deemed "non-necessary."  I think the reason for this is that--he did.

I propose that Calvin and McCrie are actually on the same page on this subject.  They both make a distinction between what churches can disagree on without violating their unity and what they can't disagree on.  I had been thinking that Calvin's distinction goes right through the doctrines clearly affirmed in Scripture, but now I think he probably actually agreed with McCrie that the distinction rather lies between those things Scripture teaches clearly and those things it does not or those things it allows diversity with regard to.  In Calvin's view, the Scriptures are clear that the soul which dies goes to live with God, and so he considered that necessary to believe.  God teaches it in his Word, and so we are required (it is not optional) to believe it.  But perhaps Scripture is not so clear on exactly the mode in which souls go to be with God.  Should we think of them as being in "heaven," or simply with God in some other way?  Perhaps Scripture is not crystal clear on this point, and so a reasonable diversity of opinion may arise here.  So long as churches do not teach their own opinion with a "spirit of contention or perverseness in dogmatising," the fundamental unity of the faith is not violated.  That is, these differences are in some ways like those discussed by Paul with reference to individual believers in Romans 14.  A person may feel uncomfortable eating meat for some reason or another.  Paul says that such a person should be tolerated and accepted, even though there is no real ground for his concern, provided that he does not use his concern to judge others in the church who do not share it.  Now, if he believed his concern about meat-eating to be a biblical doctrine commanded by God, how could he not use it to judge others and declare them sinful?  In that case, it would be his duty to do so.  Paul's instructions to him, then, show that he did not consider it a command of God but recognized it as a peculiar concern of his own.  The same thing can be said with regard to Calvin's descriptions here.  If a church believes some doctrine or practice to be required by Scripture, how could she avoid contending or being dogmatic about it?  But, in Calvin's mind, the doctrinal points being discussed are not clearly taught in Scripture, or they are not something that Scripture clearly pronounces commands about in terms of what must be and not be believed.  Therefore, the churches can preserve unity while disagreeing about them, neither of them domineering over or judging the other on the basis of their own opinions.

This is very much the same as what McCrie was talking about when he said, "Their formularies of faith and religious service may be differently expressed or arranged, and they may vary from one another in different circumstances in external administrations, which are not, and could not be, prescribed by positive rule in Scripture, and which (to use a much abused word) may be called circumstantial, without marring that unity of faith and that fellowship which belongs to different Christian societies, as parts of the same general body," and "But there must be no denial or restriction of the supreme authority by which every thing in religion is ruled; no open and allowed hostility to truth and godliness; and no such opposition of sentiments, or contrariety of practices, as may endanger the faith, or destroy the constitution and edification of churches, or as may imply, in different churches, or in different parts of the same church, a condemnation of one another."  Nothing that is believed to be clearly taught in the Bible could fit into this description.  However much we may wish (rightly) to be charitable to those who reject infant baptism, in terms of assuming the best we can regarding their hidden internal motives, the baptist position and the paedobaptist position cannot exist within the same visible church community, because their mutual practices would involve "a condemnation of each other," and in order to allow them both to co-exist in the visible society of the church the shepherds of the church would have to relax the standards God has set up.  When an avowed baptist (as opposed to someone struggling with thinking through some issues relating to baptism) is allowed to be a member of a paedobaptist church, in order to make this situation happen the shepherds of the church have to refrain from disciplining members for violating what they take to be a clear biblical duty.  But if God requires Christians to baptize their children, what right do Christ's under-shepherds have to grant a dispensation to any to refuse to do so and to escape discipline for this disobedience?  We may have high hopes with regard to some particular individual that this disobedience in not enacted out of the sort of ongoing conscious perverseness that would be incompatible with regeneration, and so may have strong hopes of his being right with God in an internal sense.  But we cannot actually see his motives, and so they cannot be made a basis of the formal response of the church to his professions and actions.  The church cannot judge the heart or motives; it must deal with people according to their outward professions and actions according to the rules of God's Word.

In short, I think we should take "the profession of the true religion" in the Westminster Confession not as "the profession of the sub-set of biblical doctrines that are necessary subjectively for salvation" but as "the entirety of what the Bible teaches that we are to believe."  This interpretation, I think, is further borne out by the more full description of what it means to "profess the faith" found in the Form of Presbyterial Church-Government (written by the same people who wrote the Confession):  "Particular churches in the primitive times were made up of visible saints, viz. of such as, being of age, professed faith in Christ, and obedience unto Christ, according to the rules of faith and life taught by Christ and his apostles; and of their children" (emphasis added).  The profession is not of some sub-set of doctrine thought to be subjectively necessary, but is an objective profession evaluated according to the rules of faith and life taught in Scripture.  Fisher's Catechism takes the same view, defining a profession of faith and the true religion as "to profess a belief of the whole doctrines of the Christian religion," to profess "the whole of those doctrines deduced from the holy scriptures, which are contained in our Confession of Faith, and Catechisms," and "openly to acknowledge, on all proper occasions, a steadfast adherence to the whole of divine truth; without espousing or countenancing any opposite error."

Taking all of this into consideration, our interpretation of WCF 25:2-5 would go thus:  There is one catholic visible church, which consists of all those throughout the world that profess adherence to the entirety of the true religion as it is taught in the Scriptures.  Particular churches are members of this visible catholic church (united together under formal, presbyterian, mutually-binding councils) when they, as communities, profess and practice the true religion.  These particular churches, like particular individuals in them, may be more or less pure in doctrine and practice.  That is, they may be more or less advanced or skilled in their understanding of divine truths, they may be more or less agreed with each other regarding secondary matters (i.e. those matters not clearly taught in Scripture), they may be more or less faithful in their exercise of discipline (though discipline must be fundamentally established and practiced), etc., while they all hold the same confession of the true faith without embracing errors in doctrine or practice opposed by the Scriptures.  Any churches meeting this description should be regarded and accepted formally as true churches, and the communion of the saints (WCF 26:2) should be exercised fully between them.  All other churches are to be rejected from this unity.

One more question might be raised at this point:  Calvin uses the language of "necessary for salvation" repeatedly in his discussion.  The Confession likewise says that outside of the visible church there is "no ordinary possibility of salvation."  If we interpret the idea of the visible church as narrowly as we seem to be doing above, won't that necessitate us to say that pretty much all non-confessional-Presbyterians are outside of salvation?  And can we really say that?

In order to answer that, I think we need to keep in mind the distinction between the church considered de facto and the church considered de jure (this is discussed more fully here).  The church de facto is the church viewed informally, while the church de jure is the church viewed formally by its official representatives (the elders of the church).  Informally speaking, I think the Scriptures allow us to hope that many of those who reject certain doctrines and practices of Scripture may still be regenerate, in that even regenerate persons are not morally perfect and are not free from the confusion that dominates the world of fallen man.  We can think, for example, of Apollos (Acts 18:24-28), who apparently was a true Christian even though he was not adequately instructed about some things.  And a number of other examples might be given, as well as Scriptural passages, indicating this sort of thing (such as Philippians 3:15, quoted by Calvin above).  I think we've all noticed this in our own lives as well from time to time!  So, to use again my common example on this point, Scripture, I think, allows us to have hopes that a particular baptist may be truly regenerate despite his refusal to baptize his children.  Although such a thing is sinful, Scripture does not tell us that it is impossible for confusion on this point to consist with regeneration in some ways.  Likewise, we may believe of a particular baptist church that it is functioning, by the grace and providence of God, as a true church de facto (i.e. a society where salvation is being attained, spiritual gifts are being administered, the Word of God is being taught, etc.).

However, such a judgment can only be informal, as it deals with unseen inward motives.  It is a matter of hope rather than clear evaluation.  Dealing with things more formally, we must evaluate persons and actions according to their outward professions and actions according to the rules of God's Word.  The church ought not to receive into formal membership an individual who maintains a dogmatic commitment to credo-baptism, because the Scriptures require the church to teach against and to censure that view.  Likewise, the church ought not to join in formal union with a credo-baptist church.  Looking at things formally and de jure, such individuals and churches must not be allowed to be received into the recognized formal society and union of the church, however much we may have good hopes that there is regeneration there.  It is in light of this that I think we ought to see Calvin's language of "necessary for salvation" and the similar language of the Confession.  Is the belief and practice of infant baptism necessary for salvation?  Yes, if we mean that God requires it of us and therefore we cannot reject it with impunity.  God does not allow us to disregard any of his commands, and so they are all necessary.  However, we can also in a sense answer no, if we mean simply to say that we are unwilling to say that any individual who rejects infant baptism must be in fact unregenerate.  In short, speaking formally and de jure, the belief and practice of infant baptism (at least once it is known about) is necessary for salvation.  But speaking informally and de facto, a judgment of charity allows us to hope that a person who rejects infant baptism may be truly regenerate (though, of course, we cannot know this).  Perhaps this is what the Confession is getting at when it says that out of the visible church "there is no ordinary possibility of salvation" (emphasis added).  That is, in the due order of things (speaking de jure), there is no possibility of salvation.  But outside of that due order (de facto), we can have some hope.  (Of course, this hope cannot be stretched too far.  There are some things that Scripture indicates clearly as being in essence incompatible with regeneration because it is impossible to hold or do them with any real degree of "innocence," such as being an atheist, etc.)

UPDATE 7/2/13:  Another article with some very perceptive things to say on this subject is one by Rev. John T. Pressley, a nineteenth-century Associate Reformed Presbyterian minister, titled An Inquiry Into the Principles of Church Fellowship, particularly the third section on "Ecclesiastical Communion."  Here is a selection:

But perhaps it will be objected that on this principle the Church may exclude from her fellowship one who is really united to the Lord Jesus and has communion with him, and, therefore, cannot be unworthy of the fellowship of the Church. The individual in question, it is admitted, rejects some of the doctrines of the creed; yet it is maintained that he holds all that are essential to salvation and, therefore, forbearance should be exercised, regardless of his erroneous views in relation to matters of minor importance. To this objection I would reply:—
 
1. It is founded upon a mistaken view of the ground of admission to membership in the Church; and it confounds the distinction between the visible and the invisible Church. A person may be a member of the Church invisible,—that is, he may be a true believer, and, therefore, united to Christ,—and yet may be justly excluded from the communion of the visible Church. A child of God, like David and others of whom we have the mournful record in the Bible, may fall into sin, which brings reproach upon the cause of Christ. This sin will subject him to the displeasure of his heavenly Father; but it does not dissolve his connection with the Church invisible, though it is a proper ground of exclusion from the communion of the visible Church until he give satisfactory evidence of penitence and reformation. All true believers, whatever imperfections may cleave to them, whether with regard to their faith or practice, are united to Christ, have fellowship with him, and are, therefore, members of the Church invisible. But it is not the prerogative of the Church, through her officers, to search the heart and determine whether the man is in reality a child of God. This is a matter which can be determined with certainty by Him only who knows what is in man. The Church forms her estimate of human character in the light of external evidence. And in receiving one into her fellowship, she should have such evidence as corresponds with the Christian character, and which, therefore, justifies her in regarding him as a true disciple. But whether he is in reality what he professes to be, it is not the province of the Church to determine. And, consequently, the condition on which the Church receives a person into her fellowship is not that he is certainly a Christian, which is a matter that she is not competent to decide, but that he makes a credible profession, and, therefore, in the sight of man, who looketh upon the outward appearance has a right to be regarded as a brother belonging to the household of faith. Whether the profession which he makes is such as corresponds with the requirements of Christianity, and whether his external deportment is such as becometh the gospel, the Church is competent to decide. All this is within the limits of her legitimate province. And, having satisfactory evidence on these points, she receives him into her fellowship, without presuming to determine what is the state of his heart in the sight of God.
 
Such is the principle on which the Church acted in primitive days. "Philip," the sacred historian informs us, "went down to the city of Samaria and preached Christ unto them." And under the proclamation of the gospel the mind and feelings of Simon the sorcerer were so impressed that he professedly embraced Christianity. On the ground of this profession Simon was received into the fellowship of the Church. But it was afterwards made manifest that his profession was insincere, that his heart was not right in the sight of God, and that he was yet in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity. The ground, therefore, on which Philip received Simon into the communion of the Church was not that he was a true believer, for this he was not,—but because he made a credible Christian profession, which, in the sight of man, gave him the right to be treated as one who belongs to the household of faith.
 
Since, then, a credible profession is the ground on which an individual has a right, in the sight of the Church, to the enjoyment of her communion, how is this profession to be made, and what is included in it?
 
To this inquiry I reply, The Church has her creed which contains a summary of the faith which was once delivered to the saints, which, as a faithful witness, she is bound to teach, and for which she is required to contend earnestly. By his professed approbation of this form of sound words, the person makes such a profession as the Church has a right to demand of those who desire to enjoy her fellowship and, this profession being sustained by a consistent deportment, he is to be received as a true disciple, even though it should afterwards appear, as in the case of Simon, that his heart was not right in the sight of God.
But, on the other hand, if he refuses to profess his adherence to that formula of faith which the Church has adopted as her testimony to the truth, he has no right to her fellowship. And in closing the door against him the Church does not presume to sit in judgment upon the condition of his heart in the sight of God and declare that he is not a child of God, which is not her province; but she pronounces judgment upon the character of his profession, and declares it to be unsatisfactory and defective. This the Church is competent to do. And so long as the man refuses to unite with her in professing to receive the summary of the doctrine of the apostles which she has adopted, he fails to make such a profession as she has a right to demand. And loyalty to the King of Zion forbids her to regard him as a disciple who has a claim to her fellowship. What may be the state of the man’s heart in the sight of God, whether he is a true believer or not, the Church does not presume to determine; but she pronounces his profession defective and treats him accordingly.
 
2. I remark, in the next place, that the objection makes an unwarrantable distinction between the truths revealed in the word of God, practically maintaining that some of them are of such importance that they must be received and held fast, while others are of so little importance that the Church may connive at the rejection of them. The individual in question professes in part his adherence to that system of faith which the Church has adopted as a summary of the doctrine of the apostles, while there are portions of it which he rejects. And the objector contends that he should be received into the fellowship of the Church on the ground of the truth which he professedly receives, and should not be excluded on account of what he rejects, it not being essential to salvation.
 
To this I reply that there doubtless does exist a distinction between the weightier matters of the law and those which comparatively are not of such high importance; and there are certain great doctrines of Christianity which, owing to the place which they occupy in the Christian system and their extensive bearing upon other truths, are relatively of greater importance than others. But who will presume to determine precisely what doctrines revealed in the Bible are essential to salvation, or what amount of error may consist with the reality of the Christian character? Our obligation to receive the truth does not depend upon the estimate which we may form of its relative importance, but upon the authority of God who has revealed it. And the Church cannot, without rendering herself liable to the charge of unfaithfulness, connive at the rejection of any one truth contained in that revelation of the will of God which has been committed to her care. The command of her exalted King is explicit and peremptory:—"Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you." "What things soever I command you, observe to do it: thou shalt not add thereto nor diminish from it." (Deut. 12:32.)
 
But perhaps some one will object that, according to this theory of communion, many of those who are babes in Christ will be deprived of the privilege of partaking of the holy supper. This ordinance was not only designed for their benefit in common with others, but they have special need of the help which it is adapted to afford as the means of their growth in grace and advancement in the divine life. It is not to be supposed, says the objector, that those who are yet in a state of infancy in the school of Christ can comprehend all the doctrines contained in an elaborate confession of faith, so as to make an intelligent profession of their approbation of them. Must they, therefore, on account of their limited knowledge, be excluded from the fellowship of the Church?
 
To this I reply that, owing to a variety of excuses, there will exist among the members of the household of faith a great diversity in the degrees of their gracious attainments. And in the treatment of different members this diversity should be taken into the account. And particularly in dealing with those who are babes in Christ, the Church should exemplify the spirit of the compassionate Redeemer, of whom it is said, "He shall feed his flock like a shepherd; he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young." But who are to be regarded by the Church as babes in Christ? Not those who consider themselves wiser than the Church, and persistently reject the truth embraced in her testimony, but such as are sensible of the imperfection of their knowledge, and are willing to confess their ignorance,—such as cherish a humble and teachable spirit, and whose minds are open to receive instruction. Owing to their limited knowledge, they may as yet be unable to give an intelligent assent to some of the more sublime doctrines of the creed; but so long as they keep their minds open to conviction, manifest a disposition to have their difficulties removed and to receive instruction, while, in the mean time, they demean themselves in an orderly and peaceable manner, they should be taken kindly by the hand and assisted and encouraged in their efforts to acquire a knowledge of the truth. Towards them the Church should act the part of a kind and tender-hearted mother.
 
But the persons against whom the Church should close the door of her fellowship are of a very different character. They have embraced and hold principles which are opposed to the testimony of the Church; they claim to have made attainments in knowledge beyond those of the Church whose fellowship they desire to enjoy; and, so far from feeling their need of instruction, they consider themselves competent to instruct others. Such persons are not to be regarded as babes in Christ, and have no claim to the treatment which is due to obedient and dutiful children. They assume the attitude of opposition to that form of sound words which the Church has adopted as her testimony, and they act the part of unruly and disobedient children; and, therefore, it behooves the Church, as a prudent mother, to apply the rod, with a view to their reformation, and deprive them, for the time-being, of the distinguishing privileges of the household of faith.

Friday, June 28, 2013

INTP

I find the Myers-Briggs and related personality-type constructs to be fascinating.  Of course, we don't want to stick people into rigid categories that may not capture all the nuances of who they really are, and we don't want to bind our lives to self-fulfilling prophecies based on what sort of personality-type we think we are.  With all proper warnings and nuances in place, however, it seems to me based on observation of myself and others that this personality-type sort of thinking is indeed capturing a real component of how human personalities work.  The tests I've seen (and I've never paid for one) seem to be fairly accurate at placing people into various types, and sometimes they can be astonishingly accurate at painting a picture of what a person is like.

Probably the most amazing example of this I have seen so far relates to myself.  The description of the INTP personality-type seems to capture core aspects of my personality with astounding precision.  If you want to understand me, read this article describing the INTP personality.  Of course, even if we fit into a particular personality-type fairly well, we are all unique, and we have different beliefs, values, and experiences and can make different choices that affect how we think and live and interact with others.  So no personality-type portrait is going to capture or accurately describe all that we are.  But it can often capture a good chunk!  That is certainly the case with me and INTP!

If you want to take a free test that seems to work pretty well from what I've seen, go here.  (I will say that the test seems to slant a bit toward the J side; so if you find yourself labeled a J, you might read the corresponding P description as well and see which one fits better.)  If you do this, let me know how it went and what you found!

My daughter Erin, 13, just took the test today, and it labeled her an ISTJ.  It does seem to fit, but she is a little young for the test, so perhaps she can take it again in a few years and see if it still does.

UPDATE 7/1/13:  I thought I'd mention also that my wife, Desiree, seems to be an INFP.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

The Social Contract Isn't Worth the Paper It Isn't Written On (2023 Version)

Governments can ground their authority in a lot of things.  They can be Islamic republics grounding authority in the Qur'an and Islamic law.  They can hold to the divine right of kings.  They could submit unconditionally to the will of a dictator.  Within the past few hundred years, in the Western world, the authority-foundation of choice has typically been some version of the idea of the "social contract."

One central idea of the social contract is that the people of the society as a whole are the ultimate holders of political authority in the society.  The people delegate this authority to governors of some sort - whether this be a king, an emperor, a group of regularly-elected officials with term limits, or whatever.  Beyond this basic picture, there are differences in terms of what the social contract means.  One of the biggest questions, in my view, is "What is the ultimate basis of governing authority?"  Sure, the people hold the authority, but are the desires of the people the ultimate foundation of the moral authority of government, or do the people exercise power in accordance with a higher moral standard which gives ultimate reality to the authority (and limits) of government?

The Catholic Church holds the latter view.  Various Catholic theologians for centuries have been considering and positing the people as the ultimate human holder of authority in society, and the Church has come to adopt this viewpoint, but with the caveat that all authority is ultimately derived from the objective moral law of God:

The subject of political authority is the people considered in its entirety as those who have sovereignty. In various forms, this people transfers the exercise of sovereignty to those whom it freely elects as its representatives, but it preserves the prerogative to assert this sovereignty in evaluating the work of those charged with governing and also in replacing them when they do not fulfil their functions satisfactorily. Although this right is operative in every State and in every kind of political regime, a democratic form of government, due to its procedures for verification, allows and guarantees its fullest application. The mere consent of the people is not, however, sufficient for considering “just” the ways in which political authority is exercised. . . .

Authority must be guided by the moral law. All of its dignity derives from its being exercised within the context of the moral order, "which in turn has God for its first source and final end”. Because of its necessary reference to the moral order, which precedes it and is its basis, and because of its purpose and the people to whom it is directed, authority cannot be understood as a power determined by criteria of a solely sociological or historical character. “There are some indeed who go so far as to deny the existence of a moral order which is transcendent, absolute, universal and equally binding upon all. And where the same law of justice is not adhered to by all, men cannot hope to come to open and full agreement on vital issues”. This order “has no existence except in God; cut off from God it must necessarily disintegrate”. It is from the moral order that authority derives its power to impose obligations and its moral legitimacy, not from some arbitrary will or from the thirst for power, and it is to translate this order into concrete actions to achieve the common good. (Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church#395-396, footnotes removed)

In the history of its development in the Western world, however, the social contract has often been developed as if from a more naturalistic point of view - that is, from the view that any greater reality above the empirical world either doesn't exist or can't be known and is therefore irrelevant.  This is not to say that the developers of the social contract idea in Western history have not believed in God or an ultimate moral authority, but there has often been a tendency to treat the subject as if the "consent of the governed" is the highest basis for any authority the civil government might have.  And especially in more recent times, many more people have approached the social contract idea from a more clearly naturalistic (at least agnostic) point of view.  One of the most famous early critics of the social contract idea was David Hume, who himself tended to approach philosophy from a more agnostic point of view, but who was dubious about the legitimacy and effectiveness of trying to root governmental authority ultimately only in the "consent of the governed."  You can read some of his criticisms here.  What I want to do now is examine the naturalistic social contract idea and make a case that it is fatally flawed.  I want to argue that the idea of the “consent of the governed” as the ultimate basis of the moral obligation for people to obey their governments turns out to be inadequate to ground such an obligation, either in theory or in practice.  Practically, there is simply not enough consent available to hold society together without a kind of coercive enforcement that can’t justify itself solely by appeal to the consent of the governed.

Let's start by taking a closer look at the basic idea of this naturalistic social contract theory.  In a naturalistic point of view, there is no objective moral law--that is, there is no absolute moral law that transcends the particular desires and goals various finite beings tend to have.  Since there is no objective moral law, there is no basis for any idea of objective authority.  Morality reduces to nothing other than "What do I want and how can I get it?", and it follows from this that nobody is the boss of anybody else.  My ultimate boss is my own desires, and your ultimate boss is your own desires.  It would seem to be a difficult prospect to get a set of laws to govern an entire society out of this sort of ethical philosophy.  Basically, you can go two ways:  1. You could go what I call the "dicatatorship" route--basically, that would be when one person or a group of people come up with a set of laws and then tell everyone else that they have to follow them or they will beat them up.  2. You can go the choice way of the modern West, the "social contract" route, which goes like this:  I'm my own boss and you're your own boss, but I want to respect your "autonomy" and I want you to respect mine (perhaps for reasons of self-interest mixed with feelings of compassion, etc.).  That means I don't want to impose laws on you and I don't want you to impose laws on me.  So what we do instead is come up with a set of laws that we all can agree on.  Then we can unite into a common society without having anything being imposed upon anyone.  Governing authority can be based on the "consent of the governed."  "We the people" will ordain our own laws and be the ultimate source of governing authority.

At this point, things start to get interesting.  It sounds great to base laws on the "consent of all the governed."  The problems start when we realize an important fact--the governed don't agree on nearly anything at all.  That would seem to pose a bit of a problem.  So what are we going to do about it?  At this stage, we get to watch the creativity of social contract proponents go into full gear.  One possibility is that we can go with the majority point of view.  We have some kind of a vote on everything, and then we do whatever the most people want to do.  That's basically how John Locke, the great political philosopher of the seventeenth century, seems to look at it.  Or at least that's what he focuses on towards the beginning of his Second Treatise of Government:
MEN being, as has been said, by nature, all free, equal, and independent, no one can be put out of this estate, and subjected to the political power of another, without his own consent. The only way whereby any one divests himself of his natural liberty, and puts on the bonds of civil society, is by agreeing with other men to join and unite into a community for their comfortable, safe, and peaceable living one amongst another, in a secure enjoyment of their properties, and a greater security against any, that are not of it. This any number of men may do, because it injures not the freedom of the rest; they are left as they were in the liberty of the state of nature. When any number of men have so consented to make one community or government, they are thereby presently incorporated, and make one body politic, wherein the majority have a right to act and conclude the rest (Second Treatise of Government, section 95).
The problem with this approach is that it only preserves the consent of the majority and not that of all the governed, which was the whole point of the social contract in the first place.  Why should the majority be able to tell me what to do?  What gives them that authority?  If we say they have that authority intrinsically, without my consent, then we've abandoned the whole "consent of the governed" idea for something entirely different, and we then will have to provide a justification for why the majority, merely by being such, gets to have authority over other people.  If we want to stick to the social contract, we have to say, as Locke does above, that it is the consent of each and every one of the governed that gives the majority the right to rule.  But then that returns us to the original problem:  What if I don't consent?  What if I say that I don't want to do what the majority wants me to do, because I'd rather do something else instead?

This is where things start to get rather complex.  The typical next move the social contract advocate makes, in response to the uncooperative pestering of its critic, is to explain to the critic that although he may not think he consents to a certain law, he really does.  For example, take this dialogue between a Social Contract Advocate (in this case a police officer) and his Uncooperative Critic:
SCA: You were driving 100 mph in a 65 mph zone.  I'm giving you a ticket.

UC:  But I don't want a ticket.

SCA:  Well, of course you don't want a ticket.  But you're going to get one anyway, because you broke the law.

UC: But I don't consent to the law that says I can't drive 100 mph in 65 mph zones.

SCA: Yes, you do.

UC:  No, I don't.

SCA:  You chose to live in this country, didn't you?

UC:  Well, I was born here and didn't have much say in that.  But I suppose I could have moved someplace else, so yes, I guess I have chosen to live here.

SCA:  Well then, you see, by choosing to live in this country, you implicitly consented to obey the laws of the land.

UC:  No, I didn't.

SCA:  Yes, you did.

UC:  Look, you say that merely by living in a place one consents to its laws.  But I don't consent to that principle, and so you can't impose it on me.  According to my principles, I chose to live here without consenting to agree to any of the particular laws.

SCA:  You can't do that.

UC:  Why not?

SCA:  Look, we can't just let you go around breaking laws.

UC:  Are the laws of this country based on the "consent of the governed," or not?

SCA:  They are.

UC:  Well, I don't consent to this one!  You can use force to make me do what you want me to do, but you can't claim to have my personal consent as the basis for your authority to do so when in fact you do not have my personal consent!

SCA:  But you chose to live here, and that means you consented to obey the laws--implicitly.

UC:  No, I didn't!

SCA:  Yes, you did!
And so on.  Where this approach gets really interesting is when it is used to impose laws or policies that are extremely controversial, such as policies allowing civil recognition of same-sex marriages.  [ed. I wrote this back in 2013 when same-sex marriage was still significantly controversial in mainstream American society.]  Political theorists have spent a lot of time and energy over the past few decades trying to justify imposing controversial laws and policies on entire populations while still claiming to be preserving the consent of all the governed.  Perhaps the most famous of those political theorists was John Rawls.  Here is Rawls's formula for how we can be sure our laws and policies are legitimately based on the consent of all the people:
Our exercise of political power is fully proper only when it is exercised in accordance with a constitution the essentials of which all citizens as free and equal may reasonably be expected to endorse in the light of principles and ideals acceptable to their common human reason (John Rawls, Political Liberalism [New York: Columbia University Press, 1996], 137).
Well, there you go!  Just base your laws on things that all people can reasonably be expected to endorse, and you'll be fine!  The trouble is--once again--that the list of things that all people will endorse is very small.  "Don't be pessimistic," say the social contract advocates, "There are a lot of things that all people can reasonably be expected to endorse, such as policies allowing civil recognition of same-sex marriages!  You see, opposition to same-sex marriage is based simply on religious beliefs, and everyone knows that you can't expect everyone to endorse those.  So, unless you want to be an unreasonable bigoted dictator, which we know you don't, you won't want to make laws limiting people's freedoms based on your religious beliefs, and so you will be in favor of same-sex marriage!  You see how easy it is?"  At this point, the dialogue between the Social Contract Advocate and the Uncooperative Critic may go something like this:
UC:  But I don't consent to allowing civil recognition of same-sex marriages.

SCA:  Yes, you do.

UC:  No, I don't.

SCA:  Why are you--or, excuse me, why do you think you are against this?

UC:  Same-sex marriage is a violation of the laws of God, which I believe that the civil government should uphold.

SCA:  But you don't want to impose your religious beliefs into law, do you?

UC:  Well, yes, actually, I do.  They are not simply my religious beliefs.  They are what I believe to be the truth.  God wants civil rulers to base their laws and policies on his moral law, and so that is what they should do.  All laws impose some set of beliefs and values into law.  I just think we should impose true beliefs and values instead of false ones.

SCA:  But it is unreasonable to impose one's religious beliefs into law!

UC:  No, it isn't, not if they are true.

SCA:  But people disagree with your religious beliefs, so you'd be imposing them on people who disagree with them!  And that's unreasonable!

UC:  All laws impose beliefs and values on people who disagree with them.  Hence the need for law enforcement, prisons, etc.  For example, you want to impose on me a civil policy of recognizing same-sex marriage, even though I disagree with the idea of having the sort of society that kind of policy will help to create.

SCA:  You're comparing apples to oranges!  It's not the same thing, because what I am trying to do is reasonable while what you are trying to do is unreasonable.

UC:  Perhaps you see it that way, but I see it differently.  I think that I am being reasonable and you are being unreasonable.  And anyway, whichever of us is actually reasonable, I don't consent to your same-sex marriage policy, and so you can't impose it on me according to your own rules.

SCA:  No, I am preserving your consent.  You're just being too literalistic and superficial.  You see, because what I want to do is reasonable, all reasonable people will agree with it.  Therefore, I can reasonably expect all people to agree with it.  If someone says he doesn't, it is simply because he is ignorant and uninformed.  If he were more reasonable, he would see that he really wants what I want.  So while he may protest that he does not consent, in a deeper sense he really does consent, even though he doesn't realize it.  So, for example, you may think that you don't consent to civil recognition of same-sex marriages, but that is only because you are confused and ignorant.  The deepest and best part of you, if adequately educated and trained in good thinking habits, and perhaps given some lessons in compassion, would recognize that I am right and fully support my position on this.  Therefore, in the deepest and most important sense, you really do consent to what I want, even though you say and even think otherwise.
It should be plain to any objective (dare I say any "reasonable"?) observer that the social contract idea is in deep trouble if its advocates have to resort to these sorts of bizarre contortions in order to maintain its validity.  The obvious fact of the matter is that you can't claim to have the consent of all the governed for any particular law if in fact all the governed don't consent to that law, and no amount of game-playing or fancy rhetoric can change that.  The idea that all governmental authority can be based solely and ultimately on the consent of the governed is a sham.  It doesn't work.  It isn't worth the paper it isn't written on.  It is simply a way for naturalists who don't want to think of themselves as dictators to feel better about themselves when they tell other people what to do and punish them for not doing what they want.  It is understandable that modern Western people want to find a way to ground governmental authority which leaves out religion and at the same time avoids a crass "might makes right" kind of domination.  But there really is no way to have that.  It simply cannot exist.  If human desires are the ultimate foundation of morality, and if we are going to have human societies with laws and governing authorities, then we are going to have societies where some people enforce their desires on other people, telling them what to do and making them do it, whether they consent or not.  No amount of contorted reasoning, fancy political rhetoric, or hand-waving can change that.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Creation and the Nature of Time - Or, the Neo-Omphalos Theory of Creation - Revised Version

The following is a paper I have written outlining a theory I call the "Neo-Omphalos" theory.  This theory suggests that when God created the universe, the universe that he created contained not only a present moving towards a future, but a past history as well.  I see the theory as following in the footsteps of the Omphalos hypothesis of Philip Gosse, but with a few different twists.

Note that I am not putting this theory forward with the claim that I believe that every bit of it is true.  I am convinced of the philosophical position it takes on the nature of time, but I do not make assertions regarding the rest of it.  I put it forward not as a definite assertion but as a possibility that is worth considering and that ought to be a part of the dialogue regarding the relationship of biblical history to the claims of mainstream science about the age and history of the earth and universe.

Also, I should note that I wrote this piece as a Protestant.  As a Protestant, I felt constrained to embrace a more literal six-day reading of Genesis as the only legitimate reading, and that is reflected in this paper.  Since becoming a Catholic, the exegetical possibilities open to me have increased.

THE PARADOXES OF SPACE AND TIME

Orthodox Christian theologians have typically seen the creation account in the book of Genesis as providing an account of the creation of the entire space-time universe, including the creation of space and time themselves. Although the Bible does not typically discuss space and time abstractly, and therefore does not address this issue directly in Genesis or really anywhere else, yet exegetically the orthodox case can be made by noting that the expressions used to describe what was created during the six days in both the Old and New Testaments are as universal as it is possible to get in biblical language--”The heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them,” “All things were made through him, and without him nothing was made that was made.” I agree with the historic orthodox position on this point, and I will add more later on that will confirm it.

So the Genesis creation was the creation of the entire space-time universe, including space and time themselves. Since this is the case, it is important to our understanding of creation that we understand some things about the nature of space and time. What implications follow from the concept of space and time being created at a certain time in the past? I am going to argue that this is not as obvious and straightforward as a lot of people have assumed.

The concepts of space and time have been very confusing to philosophers throughout history, because these concepts seem to lead to irresolvable logical paradoxes. If the universe is a logical place, then all paradoxes must be theoretically resolvable. That is, they cannot finally be real paradoxes in the sense of actual contradictions. And yet if we think too deeply about the nature of time and space, we seem to be led inexorably towards actual contradictions. One of these paradoxes has to do with divisibility. Space and time are both matters of dimension or extension. The concept of “space” is about distance, length, height, etc. Space can be measured, and thus is can be divided into parts. The same is true of time. Hence we have centimeters, meters, kilometers, minutes, hours, days, years, and so on. All extended phenomena can be divided (at least theoretically) into parts. Because all material objects occupy space and time, all material objects are extended and thus can be theoretically divided both temporally and spatially. For example, the book sitting in front of me is spatially divisible--it can theoretically be divided into half, into thirds, etc. It is also temporally divisible, in that its existence through time can be divided into various moments--we can distinguish, for example, the book as it was two minutes ago from the way it is now.

The difficulty arises when we start to ask how far the divisibility of material objects, or spatial or temporal lengths or distances, can go. Of course, practically speaking, we can only divide things up so far; but theoretically, there is no stopping point. Every time I divide an extended object or length (let’s say I’m dividing it exactly in half), at the end of the process I will always have two equal parts on each side of my line or point of division. These parts will themselves possess length (half of the original length of the whole), and thus they too can be divided in half. Likewise, these new parts will be able to be divided in half, and apparently so on we could go forever. There can never be a time when we will run out of divisions, because every division must leave some length in the divided parts, which can then be again divided in half. This kind of observation is why many philosophers have spoken of material objects and space and time as infinitely divisible. So then, if the book in front of me is infinitely divisible, how big is the smallest piece that makes up the book? Well, it would be infinitely small; for if it was anything greater than infinitesimal, it would be able to be divided into smaller pieces and thus would not be the smallest piece. If a piece of this book has any dimension--say, length--left in it at all, it will still be divisible into smaller pieces and thus will not be the smallest piece. So my book must be ultimately made up of pieces that are infinitesimal, infinitely small, and which therefore possess no dimension at all. They are precisely zero centimeters (or millimeters, or anything else) long. And, of course, since every division in half produces two equally-sized pieces, and there are an infinite number of divisions, the book must be made up an infinite number of infinitely small pieces. OK, so where’s the problem? Well, if you think about it for a moment, the problem will show itself clearly. For one thing, what exactly is the nature of a piece of matter that possesses no dimension and that therefore takes up no space? Whatever it is, how can we call such a thing matter? A dimensionless object that takes up no space would be the same as no material object at all. For another thing, how many of these infinitely small pieces does it take to make up a book that is, say, about eight inches tall and six inches across? We have an infinite number of them available, so surely that will be enough, right? Well, how long is one of these infinitesimal pieces by itself? As we said, it is dimensionless, and so there is no length at all. How much length would we have if we put two of these pieces together? Well, zero plus zero is still zero; we would still have no length at all. What if we put three of them together, or four, or five, or six thousand, or six million? Obviously, the answer will be the same--there is no length at all. Even if we put an infinite number of such pieces together, we would still have zero length. But my book has length. So my book cannot be made up ultimately of pieces that have no length at all. So we have a situation where it seems both that my book must be made up of an infinite number of infinitesimal pieces (because of the infinite divisibility of extended objects and lengths) and also that it cannot be made up of an infinite number of infinitesimal pieces. That is a problem. How are we going to solve it?

Here’s another problem: How far back does time go? This universe is a temporal universe; time is one of its dimensions. Therefore the universe has a history. How far back does this history extend? Some people believe that the universe is eternal--that is, it never had a beginning; time has been going on forever. And yet this leads us to absurdity. If time has been going on forever, then, as of right now at this moment, an infinite amount of time has already passed in the history of the universe. But there is no way that the universe could have passed through an infinite amount of time, because it is inherently impossible by definition to traverse an infinite. If there are an infinite number of fence posts, how long will it be before I have walked by them all? I could never walk by them all, because it is a contradiction to the very nature of an infinite number of fence posts that I could ever walk by them all. If I could do so, then they would be by definition finite. Any distance I can travel must get me from point A to point B, and therefore must be a finite distance, not an infinite one. If time has been going on forever, then the universe has passed through an infinite number of, say, minutes. But, by definition, it is impossible that an infinite number of minutes has already been passed through. So it would seem that time cannot have been going on forever; it must have started at some moment in the past--say, 14 billion years ago (or whatever).

But now we have another problem. The very concept of a first moment in time is absurd, since every temporal moment implies a preceding moment. Let’s think about the nature of the very first minute. How long did it last? One minute, obviously. Did it come to an end? Of course it did; it came to an end after the minute was up. Did it begin? Of course; it began exactly one minute before it ended. But ending and beginning are events; and all events, by definition, must have a before, during, and after. For the first minute to have begun, there must have been a time before it began. Once, it had not yet begun, and then it began. If there was never a state of affairs before the first minute began, that would be the same as to say that the event of its beginning never took place. For the first minute to have begun is to say that it arose into being, implying that being was empty of it before. For an analogy, imagine the act of opening a door. “Opening a door” is an event that therefore must have a beginning, middle, and end. The act could not be complete unless we start out at a moment in time before I had begun to open the door--that is, when the door was still entirely closed. If we do not start out with the door closed, there is no temporal room for me to begin to open it. Likewise, if there were no time before the beginning of the first minute, there would be no temporal room for the first minute to begin, and yet beginning is essential to the concept of a temporal length such as a minute. Therefore there would have to have been a moment of time before the first minute. And that moment would have had to have been preceded by a preceding moment, and so on ad infinitum. Therefore there would have to have been an infinite number of minutes before the very first minute, which is of course absurd. Therefore, there could not have been a very first minute. Time could not have begun; it must have been going on forever. And now we see a second paradox: We have conclusive logical reasons to think both that time cannot have been going on forever and that it must have been going on forever. (By the way, the same paradox arises when we try to think about how far space extends as well; but for the sake of brevity, I will not go into that now.)

Paradoxes such as these have long been recognized by philosophers. Zeno, the ancient Greek philosopher, famously recounted a number of them, as reported by Aristotle. Immanuel Kant recounted some of them as well in his Critique of Pure Reason and used them to argue that the universe cannot be inherently ordered and logical; we must be imposing order by our own minds on an unordered chaos, the nature of which, since it is non-ordered and chaotic, we can thus know nothing at all about. Theologians trying to talk about the creation of the space-time universe have often run into particularly the latter paradox, although they have often tended to brush it off as a semantic issue. Theologians will often find themselves talking about “before the beginning or creation of time,” and then quickly apologize for the inadequacies of language that force them to speak in such absurd ways. But they have not often enough stopped to think about why they are forced to use such absurd language when talking about the creation of time. I would argue that it is more than an unimportant semantic issue. It points to the same very serious logical problems in understanding the nature of time that we have been talking about.

SOLVING THE PARADOXES

So how can we solve these paradoxes? There must be some way in which we can do so, or else we will be forced to conclude that the universe is inherently illogical. But, for reasons I don’t have time to go into now, we know that that itself would be an absurd conclusion and can’t be right. Some people would suggest this is simply too difficult a problem to solve for our limited minds, and thus it is not worth pursuing. Well, maybe; but the history of the human race is full of examples of people who have contributed greatly to humanity by continuing to try to do things that other people continually warned them was impossible. So we should prefer to check all possible options before we give up.

I think the answer is this: Extension and divisibility are fundamentally characteristics of a finite, a limited, point of view. If we think about the nature of extension for a moment, we can see that this is so. Whenever we have an extended object or an extended length (or any other dimension) in mind, we find that one of the essential characteristics of that extended object is that it is being viewed from some particular location. It is impossible to separate the concept of an extended distance from the idea of that distance being viewed from some particular, limited, point of view. For example, imagine a line that extends five inches. At one end of that line we have point A, and at the other end we have point B. Point A is in a different location from point B. They are a certain distance apart, which is how we can distinguish them. But notice that these points are in different locations not in some absolute sense but relative to your own viewpoint. That is, your viewpoint, which has you looking at our five-inch line from one possible vantage point, has created a grid in which that line, as well as point A and point B on that line, exists. Point A is in a different location from point B relative to the grid created by your own particular viewpoint. You can always imagine moving your viewpoint to view the line from a different perspective. If you view the line a certain way, point A and point B will appear in the same location. All of this will be true of any extended object or distance that you can see or imagine. The keyboard in front of me is (roughly) about eighteen inches across. The “A” key and the “L” key on the keyboard are in different places, not absolutely, but relative to my viewpoint. Our finite viewpoint provides a necessary ingredient to the very concept of two things being in two different places or being a certain distance from each other, which is the very essence of the concept of extension. I am going to draw a very interesting conclusion from this observation: Extendedness is a characteristic of the viewpoint of finite minds and therefore does not exist outside of the viewpoint of finite minds. Only finite minds, which view things in a limited way from one particular location among many possible locations, and thus can inherently only see a part of reality at a time, have the characteristics necessary to produce extendedness.

This observation, and this observation alone, can solve the paradoxes we discussed earlier. The problem of infinite divisibility arises because it seems that extended objects must be infinitely divisible, and yet it also seems that they can’t be infinitely divisible (since they cannot be made up of an infinite number of infinitesimal pieces, as infinite divisibility would imply). But divisibility is a product of extendedness. Without extendedness, there can be no divisibility. If extendedness can only exist in finite minds, then we can talk about something being potentially infinitely divisible without that something being actually infinitely divided. For example, the book in front of me is potentially infinitely divisible. That is, there is no theoretical point at which I would run into a lack of material to continue to divide. As we noted before, every time I divide, I have divisions that have dimension that can be divided again. And yet, although I will never run into a theoretical barrier to divide further, I never actually see the book in an infinitely divided state. That is, I never perceive in my mind an infinite number of divisions. It is inherently impossible for any mind to perceive an actual infinite number of divisions. Therefore, since extendedness and hence divisibility exist only in the viewpoint of finite minds, as we established a moment ago, since no one ever perceives an infinite number of divisions of my book, those infinite divisions of my book simply do not exist. My book is only ever as divided as some finite mind perceives it to be. Thus, we can say that my book is potentially infinitely divisible and yet is not actually infinitely divided. This allows us to solve the problem of infinite divisibility. The paradox arose because we were imagining that the extended nature of my book existed outside of any finite mind. If this were the case, it would imply that if my book is potentially infinitely divisible (which it must be, for the idea of running into a theoretical point at which there is nothing left to divide is absurd), then it must consist of an actual infinite number of divisions (since the divisions would go on even after they passed beyond the ability of finite minds to perceive them). But if extendedness and divisibility only exist in finite minds, then the potential infinite divisibility of my book would not imply that there is an actual infinite number of divisions. The paradox therefore disappears.

We can also apply the same observation to the other paradox we mentioned--the apparent problem that time cannot have been going on forever and yet seemingly must have been going on forever. The problem here arises because we observe that every moment in time inherently implies a preceding moment in time. This seems to lead to the conclusion that the timeline must extend back infinitely with an infinite number of divisible moments. And yet this can’t be the case, because then the universe would have had to have already traversed an infinite number of moments, which is inherently impossible. But, notice that time, like space, is a dimension that consists of extension (and hence divisibility). Thus, time, like space, only exists in finite minds. We can therefore say that the past is potentially infinite (since we could never find a theoretical first moment that is not preceded by a preceding moment) and yet that the past is actually finite (because any finite mind can only perceive a finite amount of time in the past or anywhere else). This resolves the paradox. The same thing can be applied to space as well. Space is potentially infinite--in the sense that we could never run into a barrier at which space ends--and yet it is actually finite because only finite distances are perceived by finite minds..1  The picture that emerges here is that space and time, consisting of extendedness, are not absolute, but are to be seen as extending out in all directions with potential infinity but actual finitude from a central location which would be some particular finite point of view. However unusual such an idea of time and space is, I think it is the only view that makes sense as we consider the nature of space and time themselves and as we try to solve the paradoxes that philosophers through history have pointed out.2

THE TRUE NATURE OF SPACE AND TIME AND THE IMPLICATIONS FOR BIBLICAL CREATION

Now, let’s apply this concept of space and time to the concept of the creation of the space-time universe as described in Genesis. Orthodox Christian theologians have tended to view the space-time universe as if it were an object that exists absolutely, outside of any particular finite mind. They have also often failed to notice the potentially infinite nature of both time and space. In attempting to escape the absurdities of an actual infinite, they have not noticed the potential infinity of space and time. This is understandable, since if we think of the space-time universe as existing outside of finite minds, potential infinity must imply actual infinity. But now that we see that space and time exist only in finite minds, we need no longer make that mistake. We can recognize without absurdity the potentially infinite nature of space and time. Particularly, we can recognize that the concept of a first moment in time (theoretically speaking) is inherently absurd. Orthodox theologians have often assumed that since the creation account in Genesis describes particular events that took place at some particular time in the past, and since the creation account is an account of the creation of the entire space-time universe, including space and time themselves, then the creation of time must imply that time has a first moment. That is, they have tended to imagine that the first event of creation is the same as the first moment of time. So that moment would have a present (itself) as well as a future, but no past. Time began with the events of the first chapter of Genesis, and there is thus no past before that point.

Our understanding of the potentially infinite nature of time, however, will give us a significantly different view of the implications of the Genesis account. Since time must be inherently unbounded in terms of past and future, the creation of time will be the creation of an entire timeline that will (at least potentially) have a present, a future, and a past. In other words, if the Genesis creation account is giving us an account of the creation of the space-time universe as a whole, then that implies that during those six days of creation a few thousand years ago, God created an entire timeline that included not only a present and a potential future, but a past as well. In the Genesis account, we have presented to us the origin and beginning of this universe we inhabit, with the sun, moon, stars, water, land, animals, etc. Woven throughout the very nature of this universe and all its objects is extendedness, which exists only in finite minds. Thus, the creation of the space-time universe was the creation of a finite point of view and all that it contained, a finite point of view out from which space and time extended with potential infinity but actual finitude in all directions (including, with regard to time, both into the future and into the past). In the past few centuries, we humans have been startled to find out how immense the universe is. To use Carl Sagan’s famous language, our planet earth is a “pale blue dot” in the midst of immense distances containing innumerable stars and galaxies, in a space which continues to stretch out from us no matter how far we look. We’ve been surprised by this, but we shouldn’t have been. Space, by its very nature, must be inherently potentially unbounded. God’s creation must extend out from us indefinitely. Time, likewise, must be inherently unbounded in both directions (past and future). Thus, just as we should not have been surprised to find out that God’s creation extends out with such immensity into space, so we should not be surprised to find that it extends back indefinitely into the past. This potentially infinite past is not at all contradicted by the Genesis account of creation, but is rather implied by it when we use our minds and think philosophically about the nature of what God has told us he created.

In short, the six-day creation, which took place a few thousand years ago, since it was the creation of the entire space-time universe, implies not that the temporal universe is only a few thousand years old, but rather that it is indefinitely old. The creation event could not have been an event at the beginning of the timeline of history, without any past, for such a thing contradicts the very nature of that which God created. Rather, the creation event, by creating a potentially unbounded timeline, must necessarily place itself in the very middle of that unbounded timeline, with a past as far behind it as the future extends ahead of it. The creation event, since it involves the creation of a space-time extended universe with space-time extended objects, would be the creation of a finite point of view, a center point out from which all the universe extends in all possible directions. Nothing in this scenario contradicts a straightforward reading of the Genesis account; rather, it is necessarily implied by it if we assume that it is the creation of the entire space-time universe. The reason it has not appeared so to many is because of a lack of understanding of certain crucial features of the nature of space and time.

WHAT OF THE SIX DAYS?

What we have so far observed tells us that the space-time universe God created must be inherently unbounded in terms of both space and time, and thus that the universe, considered in terms of its theoretical potentiality--that is, considered in terms of how far back we could theoretically go if we, say, possessed a time machine--is not young but indefinitely old. However, there are other questions we need answers to in order to fully work out the relationship of the Genesis creation account to the indefinite past of the universe. In Genesis 1, we learn that the universe was created in the space of six days. How do the events of the six days relate to the creation of time itself? Perhaps there are two ways we could understand this relationship. We could see time as having been created at the very beginning of the first day, and then the subsequent events of the six days would have been normal temporal events occurring within the newly created timeline. If this is the case, then if we went back to explore the indefinite past with our time machine, we would come eventually to the events of the six days; and if we then went beyond those six days to the time before, we would find either a totally empty universe, where time is going by but there is really nothing there except space and time, or a universe that is not totally empty but is completely different from the universe we know--it would not have planets, stars, life, etc., because all of these things wouldn’t arise until the six days of creation. As far as the text itself is concerned, this is probably a possibility. However, it seems odd that the past which God created during the six-day creation event would be so out of accord with the rest of the universe. Whenever we explore new areas of God’s universe, we don’t find radical discontinuity but rather continuity with the universe we have already known. As we explore further into space, we find more and more stars and galaxies, and phenomena that are very much related to what we find closer to home. When we look into the microscopic world, we find continuity with our larger view of the universe. We find differences, no doubt, but differences that are in fundamental natural continuity with the universe as we typically see it. It would seem odd, then, if when we look back into time before the six days, we find a universe fundamentally discontinuous with the universe we know; it would be especially odd if we found an empty universe of bare space and time extending back indefinitely.

But there is another exegetical possibility. It may be that all the events within the entire six-day creation account are part of the creation of the entire space-time universe, including its past timeline. That is, instead of seeing only the bare space-time universe itself as being created with a past history, we could see all the furnishings and objects of the universe being created with past histories as well, as part of an overall coherent universe. So, for example, when the sun was created on day four, it was not only a present and a future of the sun that was created, but a past as well. In this case, we could see the creation events of the six days as putting together an entire completed, furnished universe in the present with an implied past and future. We know that when God created the structures and entities of the universe during the six days, he did not create them merely with a present--a fleeting moment, after which they would disappear. Rather, he created them with an implied future. Again, to use the sun as an example, the sun was not created as a static entity existing in a frozen unchanging present, but rather as a dynamic temporal entity undergoing processes of change through time, moving through space, burning fuel, giving off radiation, etc. It was created with a natural trajectory for its future. I am suggesting that perhaps it, along with all the other entities of the creation, was created with a natural history as well, a trajectory of natural change extending back into the past as well as into the future. This would seem very consistent with the nature of the created entities as temporal entities in a temporal universe.

If we look at the six-day creation event in this way, we would see it as a logical, historical process of creation--lasting six days--which constituted the construction of an entire space-time universe, including its present, past, and future. The creation event could be in some ways compared to the process of setting up a stage play. The set-up process itself is a temporal process, but what it produces is a temporal moment with an implied past as well as future. For example, let’s say a stage is set up for the play Hamlet. The set-up workers create the setting of a platform outside Elsinore castle, and the actors portraying the sentinels and Horatio take their places. The play then begins. Now, you could say that the setting here has two histories: It has the history of the set-up of the stage which took place perhaps a few hours beforehand; but it also has the history implied in the story, with the death of the old king, and so on. The set-up process produced a temporal moment with an implied past as well as future. Of course, the creation event would be different than the play scenario in that the whole thing would be real. There were no actors, only real beings. And the past would not merely be a pretended past but a real past. And yet that past would have been brought into existence by a creation process which created the universe in a present state with an implied history and future.

This scenario is entirely exegetically possible. Nothing in the text of Genesis (or any other biblical text) contradicts or opposes it. Certainly, the idea that the universe had a created history as well as a future is not mentioned in the biblical text, but then the Bible’s history is notorious for focusing only on those things of immediate interest to its point. We get no account of the immensity of space, the existence of bacteria or magnetic fields, the creation or existence of angels, or a number of other things which we might be interested to hear about. Why do we not hear, for example, that the sun is a large ball of burning gases millions of miles away? The Genesis account does not affirm any of the mythological notions common in many creation stories of this time period, thus evidencing its authenticity, but it does not discuss the true nature of the sun either. Why not? I would suggest two plausible reasons. First, because the nature of the sun was unknown to people throughout much of history and therefore would have been immensely confusing to most people who have had the Bible through history. Secondly, the exact nature of the sun is beside the point of the account, which is not intended to provide a scientific encyclopedia on natural phenomena but merely a basic, straightforward narrative of the very basic flow of God’s creative activities. I would suggest a similar answer as to why the Bible did not mention the created past of the universe if such a thing was indeed created. It is very dangerous to make arguments from silence when doing biblical exegesis, particularly when one is speculating on a subject that is clearly beyond the intended scope of the narrative.

Since it is possible that the specific entities of creation, along with space and time themselves, were created with a past as well as a future, we cannot conclude from the fact that the creation event took place in six days a few thousand years ago that the universe or anything in it is therefore young (in the sense of only thousands of years old). We know by the very nature of space and time that the universe as a whole must be indefinitely old, and the same might just as well be true for the different objects that inhabit it and furnish it. Therefore, we can conclude that there is no necessary contradiction between the ideas of mainstream science about the antiquity of the earth, solar system, and universe, and the biblical account of creation (as interpreted by six-day creationists). I do not claim to know whether or not mainstream science’s account is in fact true, but I can say from what we have observed thus far that it is not contradictory to the six-day account. Typically, people who hold to an old earth reject the six-day reading of Scripture, and the young-earth creationists likewise reject the concept of an old earth. The assumption of both groups is that both of these ideas cannot be true. And yet, on our current theory, we see that these ideas are in fact not contradictory at all.

THE FALLENNESS OF THE PAST

However, there is another aspect of the past history of our planet as mainstream science understands it that does seem contradictory to the Genesis account of creation. How do we know about past life millions of years ago, according to the mainstream scientific account? We know about it through fossils to a great extent. And what are fossils? The remains or impressions of dead plants and animals. And yet in a young-earth reading of the Genesis account, death, both in the human and in the animal world, entered into the creation at the Fall, which was an event subsequent to the six days of creation. That means that if we were to look back at the past before the six days, we should not find signs of death; and yet clearly fossils are signs of death. I think that the young earth reading of Genesis is right on this point as well--the Fall was the source of sin and death, and there should thus be no death before the Fall. Therefore, it seems that we do have a contradiction between the mainstream scientific account of earth’s history and the biblical account. Some have tried to solve this by suggesting that the effects of the Fall reach back into the past, but I find this highly unlikely. God’s designation of the creation as “very good” before the Fall, compared with Paul’s description of the current creation as “groaning,” waiting for liberation when the sons of God are liberated from the effects of sin, seems to suggest that the pre-Fall creation was in a state that was entirely pleasing to God. Of course, there is a sense in which all states and events, good as well as evil, that exist or occur in the creation are “very good” because they are used by God to advance his good purposes. However, evil and suffering in themselves--that is, in their own nature, distinguished from their contribution to an overall greater good--are clearly displeasing to God. The Bible indicates that this is so--Paul’s negative language about the creation groaning, subject to decay, that we’ve already mentioned, God’s statement that he takes no pleasure in the death of anyone who dies, etc.--and so does natural revelation. Philosophically, I think a conclusive case can be made that God must by nature hate the suffering and love the happiness of all beings. If all the experiences of all beings are included in God’s own experience--as must be the case if God is omniscient in the classic sense--then God would have a foundation for infinite sympathy and empathy in his nature. It would be psychologically impossible for God to love the misery of other beings in itself considered, because he would be loving his own misery in doing so. In addition to these arguments, we could add the change of diet ordered by God after the Fall. Before the Fall, both humans and animals were given plants to eat, but after the Flood they were given animal flesh as well. This is best read as indicating that there was a lack of carnivorousness at least before the Fall, which would fit in with our overall picture that the pre-Fall world would not contain death and suffering. Certainly more would need to be said here to establish fully this point, but as I am assuming the basic young-earth creationist position, I will not linger on trying to prove this any longer at this time. The question then is this: Is it possible to reconcile a mainstream scientific account of the history of the world, with its millions of years of death and suffering, with the biblical account that indicates a complete lack of death and suffering before the Fall? If we can’t do this, then we will still have to conclude that the biblical account contradicts the mainstream scientific view of an old earth.

What if the millions of years of earth history which contained suffering and death were not pre-Fall, but post-Fall? I think it would be absurd to suggest that the Fall, and thus the six days of creation, occurred millions of years ago, before the first animal death occurred. That would put the Fall before the advent of man on the earth in the established mainstream scientific timeline, which would obviously be impossible. But what if the Fall of man had cosmic dimensions, not merely causing human beings to become sinful, but altering the very nature of creation? Remember, the creation is the creation of a finite point of view. That point of view seems to be closely related to the point of view of the human race. There is no doubt that human history--rather than, say, crab history--is of primary importance in God’s purposes in the history of the universe. If the creation itself is inherently tied to man’s point of view, then a change in man’s basic relationship to God might bring along with it a basic change in the nature of the creation that surrounds man and functions as his environment. As a matter of fact, the Bible confirms that this is in fact the case. As we noted earlier, there seems to have been no animal death before the Fall. But after man’s Fall, there is plenty of it! The entire animal world is woven through and through with death. Death and suffering are involved in the most intricate aspects of the system of the animal world. Some people have actually used the seeming inseparability of suffering and death from the world of nature as an argument against the idea that there was no suffering and death before the Fall, because they recognize what a dramatic change in the fundamental nature of nature would be implied by going from a world without suffering and death to a world with them. It would be a dramatic change indeed, a very fundamental change--but that is exactly what the Genesis account seems to be suggesting.3  It is also very interesting to note that Paul ties the redemption of the human race together with the redemption of the rest of the creation. He describes the creation as being in a state of decay and groaning until it is liberated in the liberation of the children of God (Romans 8:19-22). So it is clear that man’s state is indeed tied to the fundamental state of the creation itself.

If this is the case, then we should see the Fall as having not just local or immediate but rather cosmic consequences, altering the fundamental nature of creation. Since creation is a unified system of parts extending through space and time, could it be that the Fall affected not just the present and the future of the creation but its past as well? Could it be the case that along with the Fall, a new state of creation emerged, complete with new natural laws and tendencies extending into its future and into its past? For example, if lions were fundamentally altered by the Fall, this alteration would have led to a different trajectory for lion-kind as it reproduced into the future, and it very well might also have led to a different trajectory for lion-kind extending back into the past. If this line of thinking is correct, then if we were now to take our time machine back into the distant past (following the flow of the timeline as it has been corrupted by the Fall), we would find not an unfallen world, but one with a history of suffering and death, at least as far back as we find life. Thus, the millions of years of fallen history proclaimed by mainstream science would not be contradictory to the biblical account. That history would not be pre-Fall in its basic nature, but post-Fall. Just as the pre-creation history would be a product of the six-day creation, so the fallenness of that history would be a product of the Fall of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. The entire creation--past, present, and future--was “very good” before the Fall, but afterwards the entire creation--past, present, and future--became subject to groaning in the bondage to decay.

INCORPORATING NOAH'S FLOOD

The Genesis narrative gives us one more very interesting element that we can add to our theory on this point. Once we accept that the Fall altered the fundamental nature of creation, it becomes apparent that the biblical narrative gives us an indication that this alteration didn’t take place--or at least not all of it took place--immediately after the Fall. People began to die immediately after the Fall, but life-spans were still incredibly long. There was no immediate change in God’s dietary regulations after the Fall. Rather, many changes had to wait until another event occurred, a large-scale event that reshaped the basic structure of the earth: The Flood of Noah.

One thing that becomes very noteworthy as we study the account of Noah’s Flood is that it is portrayed in language reminiscent of creation. The entire Flood and its aftermath is portrayed as a giant de-creation and re-creation event. One of the main events in the original six-day creation was the removal of the water from covering the dry ground which took place on day three. Throughout the Bible, the imagery of water covering the land is used as an image of chaos that existed before the ordering events of the creation. Therefore, the sea comes to stand frequently for disorder and chaos, and floods are used as images of de-creation. This is definitely the case especially with the Flood of Noah. God presents the Flood as a reversal of creation. “I will destroy every living thing that I have made on the face of the earth, for I am sorry that I have made them.” After the Flood, we start out with a situation very reminiscent of Adam and Eve and the initially created animals and plants at the end of the six days of creation. This reminiscence is clearly intended by the biblical text, for we see Noah and his sons being told to “be fruitful and multiply” and to thus repopulate the earth. This is a new beginning. The world has been de-created and re-created. However, the newly created world is significantly different from the old world. Noah and his sons are given dietary regulations, just as Adam and Eve were during the original six-day creation event. But this time, man is told that he can eat meat along with the “green herb.” Also, unlike the immortality that was the condition of man at the end of the six days, now it is said that their days will be typically no more than around one hundred and twenty years. Why? Because “man’s imagination is [still] wicked from his youth.” The Flood has not changed the fallen nature of man. The newly re-created world is not the reversal of the Fall; rather, it seems to be a new start for the world which takes into account the permanent (at least until the end of the world) fallen state of the creation. The rest of the Bible confirms this reading of the Flood as a creation event. Both Jesus and Peter, for example, in the New Testament, compare the Flood to the future destruction of the world and the creation of a “new heavens and a new earth.”

If the Flood was indeed a de-creation and re-creation event, this is probably the event to which we can attribute the most radical cosmic changes to the creation that were entailed by the Fall. The Flood can be seen as the location of the biggest chunk of the working out of the Fall’s implications for the fundamental state of the entire creation. Therefore, if the Fall brought about a fundamental change in the nature of creation--including its present, future, and past--then the Flood is the most likely source of the most dramatic implementation of that change. If this is correct, then the Flood should not be seen as an ordinary event--just like any other Flood, except on a larger scale. It was instead a fundamentally supernatural event, a creation event; and the effects of it would not be the normal effects of a natural Flood, but rather a supernatural restructuring of the cosmos--perhaps in terms of present, future, and past--to match a new fallen set of conditions. If this is the case, then Flood geologists have taken a completely wrong turn in trying to analyze the Flood as if it were simply a large-scale natural event with natural results, looking for evidence of such a natural event. Analyzing the Flood in this way would be like trying to figure out what chemical properties were in the saliva that Jesus used to cure the blind man which aided in that healing process, or like trying to figure out where the loaves and fishes came from that Jesus used to feed the five thousand. These are supernatural events, and therefore only confusion can come from reading them as if they were following the normal operations of natural laws. It might be argued that a flood--even a large, worldwide flood--could not have altered the basic nature of the cosmos, and certainly could not have altered the nature of the past. Well, of course it is true that a normal flood could not do this--just as normal saliva mixed with dirt could not have cured a blind man, and twelve loaves and fishes could not have fed five thousand. That is precisely the point. I am suggesting that the Flood may not have been a normal natural event, but rather a supernatural event. And like many supernatural events recorded in the Bible, God used natural means (saliva, fish and bread, the dust that Moses threw into the air to make gnats) in the production of supernatural results. It is interesting to note that mainstream science is united in the claim that there is no evidence that there ever was a worldwide flood. But if the Flood was a supernatural creation event, we would not expect to find evidence of a natural worldwide flood. The effects of a supernatural flood which God used to fundamentally alter the creation--including its past--into a new fallen shape would rather have the effect of producing a new consistently fallen state of creation with evidence of a long past involving fallen elements such as suffering and death. And that is precisely what mainstream science says we find when looking at the nature of the world and the evidence of its history. I find it interesting that the Bible itself seems to portray the Flood as a de-creation and re-creation event, re-structuring the cosmos into a consistently fallen condition, which in our theory might imply that it reshaped the past into a fallen condition as well. Thus, our current theory, combined with the exegetical evidence from a study of the Genesis account of creation, Fall, and Flood, would predict these two things: 1. We should find evidence of a fallen history stretching back into the indefinite past. 2. We should not find that the Flood left behind the sort of evidence that would be left behind by a worldwide natural flood. Both of these predictions are confirmed by mainstream science.

DID PROCHRONIC HISTORY REALLY OCCUR?

In this theory, the creation of the space-time universe was a series of events that took place in the past.  These events are described in Genesis 1-11.  They include the six days, the account of the Fall, the Flood of Noah, the Tower of Babel, and in general all the events of Genesis 1-11.  The events of Genesis 1-11 differ from what follows in Genesis (and in the rest of biblical history) because they describe the various events involved in the coming into being of the present general state of the created universe.  As we have seen, the idea of God creating the world involves the idea of God creating a finite viewpoint in which space and time are actualized.  This finite viewpoint seems to be particularly a human viewpoint, although this need not mean that it is identical to the viewpoint of any particular human individual.  Humans are the focal point of the creation and it is within the story of the human race that God carries out his purposes for history.  The universe began to be created five days before Adam and Eve were created on day six of the creation week; but even though there were no humans during those first five days, the creation was building up to them, and they were the pinnacle of what was being created.  This is why the creation of the universe during all of the six days takes place from a human vantage point.  For example, why is the earth created on day one (and then further organized on days two and three), while the sun and stars aren't created until day four?  If you look at it in one way, this appears very strange, considering that the earth is a very, very small speck in a gigantic universe.  That which was created on day four astonishingly dwarfs that which was created in the first three days.  Wouldn't it have made more sense to have created the stars first, then the sun, and then the earth?  Perhaps so, if we are imagining the creating taking place from the vantage point of someone somewhere out in the universe far away from the earth.  But God creates the world from the vantage point of someone standing on the earth, and thus the earth is formed first and then things are formed around it.  This is because creation was the creation of a finite point of view, and that point of view was the point of view of the finite beings that are humans.  (This also explains why the six days don't provide a separate niche for things like subatomic particles or bacteria--these entities were not a part of the immediate and early experiences of human beings.)  These same observations apply to the rest of the events of Genesis 1-11 as well.

The beginning of this general, human finite viewpoint, starting on day one of the creation week, constitutes the beginning of what Philip Gosse (the author of the book Omphalos, from which the name of our theory comes; I will speak about him more below) called "diachronic" history.  Gosse distinguished "diachronic" from "prochronic" history.  "Diachronic" history is history as commencing with creation and including all subsequent events in the created timeline.  "Prochronic" history refers to the potentially infinite back story necessarily created by the creation of time, as discussed earlier.

Both prochronic and diachronic history are real.  Neither is an illusion.  And yet they have different functions in relationship to each other.  Diachronic history is the actual story of history, the finite narrative in which the drama of history is carried out from beginning to end.  Prochronic history exists as a back story attached to diachronic history, conceptually implied by the existence of diachronic history but not actually occurring within diachronic history (much as most novels have an implied back story which is never narrated within the novel itself but is attached to the narrative as being conceptually implied by it).

Since it is tied into the creation as part of its nature, the definite form of prochronic history will leave marks in the nature and essence of diachronic history.  So, for example, if we find dinosaur fossils in the ground dating back to 70 million years ago, these fossils are there and have the form that they have not for no reason, but because they are the logical implication of certain aspects of prochronic history.  So, on the one hand, we do not say that the dinosaur lived in diachronic history, for it lived only in prochronic history.  However, on the other hand, we do not say that the fossils were planted in the ground as a deceptive appearance corresponding to nothing real.  They do correspond to something real--they correspond to the definite events of prochronic history, and their nature is determined not arbitrarily but by the logical relationship that exists between themselves and certain prochronic events.  This is why we have an account of diachronic history in Genesis, while mainstream science (that is, the historical sciences such as paleontology) only tells us about the prochronic history.  Genesis 1-11 is God's eye-witness account of the creation events that began diachronic history, while the natural sciences can't actually go back and see what happened in the past.  They can only examine clues embedded in the universe and try to infer from them some past historical narrative.  Since the universe was created in light of a prochronic back story and with an intended overall continuity with that back story (though with some significant, but probably not typically scientifically noticeable, discontinuities arising from the diachronic creation narrative), the clues that natural scientists find tend to be tied to the universe's prochronic history.  There is no way to tell from these clues by themselves whether the narrative they point to is diachronic or prochronic.

So prochronic history really occurred, but it exists as a back story to the narrative of diachronic history.

NEO-OMPHALOS

I want to address one more question before we conclude. How does the theory I am presenting relate to the Omphalos theory of Philip Gosse?4 Gosse attempted to reconcile a mainstream scientific account of the history of the earth with six-day creationism by postulating that the universe itself might have a cyclical life-span built into its essence just as all plants and animals do. In God's plan, a sunflower, for example, is not merely a static entity; it is an entity that has several stages of progression that develop through time and which then reproduce themselves in the next generation. Because of this characteristic, God's creation of a particular sunflower must necessarily be a creation “in the middle,” involving the appearance and effects of previous developmental processes even when there actually were none. It doesn't matter if he created the sunflower as a seed, as halfway grown, as full grown, or in any other condition—it will always exhibit the marks of previous development. And this is true for all plants and animals. Gosse suggested that the entire universe might be designed in the same way, so that God's creation of the universe at any particular time would necessarily involve the marks and effects of previous history. A more recent excellent article by Joshua Klose and Martin Dowson, titled “The Appearance of Age in Recent Creation: Reimagining Philip Gosse's Omphalos,” has developed Gosse's theory further by replacing Gosse's own emphasis on cycles with the broader concept of previous causality. Like Gosse, they point out how the various characteristics of the created world suggest previous causal history in such a way that they could not have been created without bearing the marks of such past causal processes.

I see this present theory as a further development, standing on the shoulders of Gosse and Klose and Dowson.5 Basically, it takes the core idea of the Omphalos hypothesis to a deeper level in three ways:

1. The Omphalos hypothesis points out how the essences of various objects in nature inherently suggest previous causal processes and are bound up with them. The present theory takes this to a more absolute level and points out that time itself, in its own fundamental nature, bears this characteristic. Time itself, and therefore the entire temporal universe as a whole, inherently implies a potentially infinite previous history. All creation of a space-time universe therefore must be a creation “in the middle” of time. It is not just evident that this is in fact the case from looking at the nature of particular objects (like sunflowers or mountains); it is evident that this is the case because it must logically be the case given the very nature of time.

2. Our theory adds a discussion of the Fall and the Flood of Noah into the picture and relates them to the overall theory.  Gosse did not address either (though Klose and Dowson did address the Fall, but not the Flood, in their paper).

3. Our theory goes further than previous Omphalos theories in analyzing the nature of prochronic history and its relationship to diachronic history.  In Omphalos, Philip Gosse describes the prochronic history as "ideal" as opposed to "real," existing only in the mind of God.  His formulation opened him up to the most serious criticism raised against him--namely, that he was making God a deceiver by portraying him as planting evidence of previous history in the world that never actually happened.  I think that this criticism of Gosse's theory was unfair, as Gosse made it clear in the book that the evidences of previous history in the creation are not arbitrary, simply planted there to make it look like something is the case that is not in fact the case.  Gosse said that the prochronic history, though "ideal" and not "actual," is a real component of the creation, an essential part of its nature as it is viewed by God.  So the evidences of previous history in the creation are not arbitrary, deceptive illusions, but are logical and appropriate implications of the prochronic history that is a real part of the nature of the universe.

Our theory develops Gosse's argument out further, connecting that argument to metaphysical realities about the nature of time.  As we have seen, prochronic history is not an imaginary illusion but rather an essential, logical component of the nature of the temporal universe.  Every moment in time implies a preceding moment.  The creation of the universe is the creation of a finite point of view from which space and time spread out in all directions with potential infinity and actual finitude.  This creation implies the distinction of the timeline into "prochronic" and "diachronic" history, depending on whether a particular section of the timeline falls within the post-creation narrative or is attached to that narrative as a back story.  Since both prochronic and diachronic history are perceived by God, both are real, but they have different functions.  Our theory thus makes clearer how the Omphalos concept can avoid the accusation that it involves deception.  The prochronic back story, while a back story and not part of the diachronic narrative it is attached to, is still quite real and is no illusion or fabrication.

Because of its continuity with previous Omphalos theories, combined with the further developments it brings to the Omphalos reasoning, I like to think of our current theory under the name of the "Neo-Omphalos" theory of creation.

CONCLUSION

In conclusion, we have seen that common analyses of the implications of the creation of the space-time universe as described in Genesis have not taken into account a fundamental fact about the nature of time that significantly effects the outcome of such an analysis—namely, that the creation of time would logically create not merely a present moving into a future but a past history as well, stretching back potentially to infinity. The realization of this fact opens up the door to a tantalizing possibility: Perhaps in his creation of the universe in the space of six days a few thousand years ago, and in his re-creation of that universe in a consistently fallen condition especially at the time of the Flood of Noah, God had in mind a universe with an entire timeline stretching into both the future and the past; and therefore the result of those creative processes was not a universe in a young, newly-born condition, but a universe with a history stretching back beyond what any finite being can perceive. The implications of this possibility are of immense importance, for it implies that there is no necessary contradiction between the current mainstream scientific account of the history of the universe and the biblical account of creation. Belief in the creation account in Genesis, therefore, does not necessarily force one to be at odds with mainstream science on this issue and to have to hold to alternative scientific ideas such as flood geology. The fact that the space-time universe must have an indefinitely-old past does not necessary imply that mainstream science is right or that flood geology is false, but it does point us at least to the consideration of other possibilities and thus broadens the dialogue between Bible believers and mainstream science.

This potential/actual distinction exists in all other areas where we have potential infinites in the world as well--another interesting example being the calculation of pi. Pi, famously, is potentially infinite, in that one never can come to the end of calculating it out. It can be calculated out forever. But because actual infinites can't exist--the space-time world being inherently finite--it will ever only be calculated out to a finite degree, no matter how amazing our future computers become. Beyond the point of the most distant calculation yet made, pi goes on with potential infinity. But, as dimension exists only in finite viewpoints or in finite perception, the further decimal places of pi do not exist in actuality but only in potentiality. That is, there is a definite form that will arise, logically connected to what has come before, at any point in the stream of decimals. But the form is only potential and never actualized unless some finite mind actually calculates it out to that degree. Again, this solves the paradox that would exist if we imagined that pi actually exists somewhere calculated out to infinity.

2 For more on the potentially infinite but actually finite nature of time and space, and for an account of how all this relates to classical arguments for the existence of God, see my book Why Christianity is True, particularly the section on “Deeper Philosophical Issues” in chapter three.

3 I want to add a comment here as I reread this from a Catholic point of view.  I talk about a fundamental change in the nature of the physical world, but what kind of change is it?  I propose we should think of it the same way we think of the change in man occurring at his fall:  In his original creation, man was given a supernatural gift of grace which enabled him to exist in a state above his natural capacities.  He existed in a state of perfect righteousness and immortality, with his reason in perfect control of his passions, etc.  When man cut himself off from God at the Fall, he lost that supernatural gift and fell into what his nature, without grace, would naturally lead to - sin, irrationality, loss of harmony, death, etc.  We can see the entire creation here experiencing a similar effect.  Before elevated beyond its natural capacities by its connection to man endowed with supernatural grace, it fell into a state of decay, death, etc., as a result of losing its connection to that gift.  So it is not really so much that God altered the nature of man or the world at the Fall, but rather that he left it to itself to a greater degree to fall into the decay (spiritual, moral, physical, etc.) that would naturally be involved in its condition when not elevated by supernatural grace.

5 I have heard that an author named Donald MacKay articulated a viewpoint similar to the one put forward in this paper, but I have not yet been able to track it down and confirm this.

UPDATE 2/19/14:  For a much briefer, non-technical, simplified statement of the above theory, see here.