In my last blog I posited the notion that critical thinking
is not the enemy of Christianity, including a robust, confessional version
thereof. In fact, a sound form of Christianity actually requires its adherents
to employ critical thinking and to grow in it. To paraphrase Socrates, an
unexamined faith is unworthy of believing. Thus, critical thinking is not in
and of itself an enemy of serious, orthodox Christianity. The real danger is
the half-hearted attempt at critical thinking known as cynical thinking. Four
centuries ago this truth was acknowledged by Francis Bacon: “It is true, that a
little philosophy inclineth man’s mind to atheism, but depth in philosophy
bringeth men’s minds about to religion.”
Before we explore this topic further, let me remind the
reader that to engage in critical thinking does not mean that one rejects out
of hand what one is studying. Literary critics engage a particular work not
because they think it is meaningless but because they believe that it has
something to teach us about the human condition and they want to understand
better what it is saying. When historians investigate particular battles or
events, they usually do not believe that these events never took place and that
all previous histories are all bunkum. Rather, they take for granted that these
things did occur, but they want to understand them in greater detail and
perhaps clear up some confusion. Critical thinking is not just negative
thinking about everything, but an attempt to look at a particular matter in
great detail and ask important questions of it.
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| Medieval monasteries not only copied the Scriptures but promoted literacy and learning in general. |
Of course, part of critical thinking does involve examining
whether one’s first principles are reliable and true. Thus, a Christian will
have to ask why he or she embraces Christianity. No one re-examines their first
principles every day or should be expected to, but it is still something that
ought to be done from time to time—and Christians should examine why they
believe what they do. In addition to confirming the basis for their faith, it
also prepares them to explain it to those who want to know more about it. I
will not lay out the arguments for Christianity in this post, but urge the
reader to consult any number of works that have made the case. Some arguments
are philosophical (such as the various proofs for God or the explanations for
the Christian understanding of good and evil). Other arguments are grounded in
history, such as the case for Christ’s resurrection. But Christians for
centuries have made the point again and again: the Christian faith is not
contrary to reason and in fact is the most rational of all possible
philosophies, ideologies, and religions; moreover, it is supported by the
evidence of history, as much as anything else is.
The objection is often raised—by Christians and
non-Christians alike—that Christianity is accepted by faith, not by rational
argument. That statement, however, misunderstands what faith is. Faith is not
an irrational leap into the unknown. We do not believe in something simply
because it is absurd or because we wish that it would be true, even though all
evidence points against it. Instead, a person believes what he or she deems most
likely to be true. Every human being is in the awkward position of being unable
to know anything (especially on the most important of subjects) with absolute
certainty. As a consequence, every human being has to put his or her trust in
someone or something. We do it in small ways and in big ways. We may trust that
the person who is giving us directions indeed knows the area and isn’t trying
to fool us. We trust that the bank teller will actually deposit the money
instead of absconding with it. We may be wrong or we may be deceived, but we
would not trust a person whom we believe to be deceitful. Similarly, when it
comes to the big questions in life, we look at the evidence and choose what
seems most reasonable. Thus, Christians believe in Christ not because it seems
foolish to do so, but because it seems the most sensible thing to do.
To be sure, we Christians will at the same time acknowledge
that faith in Christ is a gift from God, but we do not thereby imply that the
Christian faith is irrational. Instead, we acknowledge that human beings often
choose irrationally and that we need help so that we do not blind ourselves to
reality. Consider the fact that many people have an irrational fear of flying,
even though it is by far safer to fly than to drive. By the same token, we would
tend stubbornly to deny the truth of the Christian faith because of our innate
selfishness, but God persuades us of the truth. He does so not by overcoming
our rationality, but our irrationality.
But once a person has examined the first principles of the
Christian faith and found them to be eminently acceptable, the need for
critical thought has not come to an end. If anything, it grows. The Christian
faith has often been reduced to platitudes, but when it has, it has become unconvincing.
Indeed, one thing that I find consistently among critics of Christianity is
that they have reduced its content to mere slogans (often wildly inaccurate
ones at that), which they then handily dismiss. The Christian truth consists of
many teachings that are at their heart paradoxical: God is one divine being,
yet there are three distinct Persons in the Godhead; Jesus Christ is fully
divine and fully human, in two distinct natures but consisting of only one
person; we are not saved by our good works but by trusting in Christ, and yet good
works must be done; the Kingdom of God is in our midst, and it has not yet
come; we are new creations in Christ, and we bear within ourselves the old
sinful nature of Adam. When people err, they usually do not deny Christian
teaching altogether, but they usually fail to make distinctions within a
paradox, or they hold to one side of the paradox and not the other, or they
fail to understand which side of the paradox needs to be upheld in a particular
context. For example, rarely if ever have Christians believed in a multitude of
gods (polytheism), but they have fallen into one or more errors in relating the
unity of the Godhead to the distinction between three Persons by sacrificing
one or the other. Most of Christian theology, therefore, is making appropriate
distinctions, both when examining the Scriptures and when applying them to
life.
The Scriptures need to be understood, and they can only be
understood if people are willing to do the hard linguistic, grammatical, rhetorical,
and historical study. Often a word can have more than one meaning, and the
attentive reader has to consider which is the more likely meaning in a
particular passage. Sometimes the evidence can be marshaled for more than one
explanation, and the decision is not easy. The exegete has to weigh the
evidence rather than mechanically count it. The serious exegete also realizes
that dictionaries and other scholarly resources may err since they are compiled
by fallible individuals. Then there are those passages and words that are
unclear or whose nuances are lost on us because we do not have a full grasp of
the historical situation or of a word’s historical usage. Consider, for
example, how the Greek word for “It is finished” was understood for centuries—not
altogether wrongly—as meaning, “It is over,” while records of account balances
written in antiquity on papyrus and discovered a century ago allowed us to see
that it can also mean, “[Balance of a debt] has been paid in full,” thus adding
a theological nuance hitherto unnoticed. Thus, even if one happens to believe
that the Scriptures teach the gospel truth and are reliable, as I do, it
doesn’t mean that the interpreter is infallible or knows everything about the
Bible or a particular passage.
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| Nathan confronts David. The words non moechaberis are Latin for "You shall not commit adultery." |
But a theologian—and in some sense every Christian is a
theologian inasmuch as all Christians think about the Scriptures and divine
matters—must also know how to apply the truths of Scripture. And that is also no
easy matter. We see how difficult it is when we consider the way that the
prophet Nathan treated David, as recorded in 2 Samuel 12. Within a couple minutes
of Nathan telling David, “You are the man
[who deserves to die]!” Nathan told David, “The LORD also has put away your
sin; you shall not die.” Unless one understands David’s two different states of
mind, it will seem rather bizarre to see David condemned to death one moment and
then spared the next. The law had to be spoken in its severity to David when he
refused to acknowledge his sin; nothing short of death could have woken him
from his spiritual slumber. But because God does not desire the death of
sinners, He also forgave David and told Nathan to proclaim absolution.
Recognizing this distinction of law and gospel—and the situations that call for
each—requires critical thinking. Even if one recognizes that the law has to be
preached in its severity to admonish unrepentant sinners while the gospel has
to be preached in its sweetness to comfort repentant sinners, one still has to
determine whether he is dealing with an unrepentant or repentant sinner, and
that task cannot be done thoughtlessly.
Every Christian knows that God expects His people to engage
in spiritual worship by presenting their “bodies as a living sacrifice, holy
and acceptable to God” (Rom 12:1). What people often forget is that part of
this spiritual worship involves our being “transformed by the renewal of [our]
mind” and “discern[ing] what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable
and perfect” (Rom 12:2). That calls for critical thinking with all one’s
power—and then some.
