Apologetics, Imagination, and Imaginative Apologetics
In my past 4
posts, I have been setting the framework for the core material in Imaginative Apologetics, an excellent
compilation of essays edited by Andrew Davison arguing for the centrality of
the faculty of imagination in the apologetic enterprise. I have laid out the historical and
contemporary scene of Christian apologetics, and considered Vanhoozer’s and
Smith’s contributions to an understanding of imagination. It is time now for the meat: interaction with
the individual articles in Imaginative
Apologetics. This material is
derived from my article in Trinity
Journal.[1]
Engaging Imaginative Apologetics
Andrew Davison compiles ten
articles (plus a robust foreword and introduction) to promote a return to
apologetic imagination. The contributors are broadly-catholic British scholars
(the one exception is Craig Hovey, from Ashland University, Ohio), although
each author admirably avoids sectarianism and denominational polemics. As with
all edited collections, the chapters vary in perspective and strength. In this
case, the authors also differ in their understanding and exposition of the two
key terms of the book’s title: imagination
and apologetics.
Davison’s
introduction lays out the overarching vision and purpose of the work. The ten
individual chapters are broken into four broad sections: (1) Faith and Reason
Reconsidered; (2) Christian Apologetics and the Human Imagination; (3) Being
Imaginative about Christian Apologetics; and (4) Situating Christian
Apologetics. I will post blog essays
engaging with the articles in (respectively) each of the 4 major sections of
the anthology, usually offering concise summaries of the content, strengths,
and weaknesses of each chapter. A few chapters will receive more in-depth
treatment than others, mostly marking areas of my own particular interest and
expertise.
“Faith and Reason Reconsidered”
The first section
(“Faith and Reason Reconsidered”) contains two essays. In Chapter One (“Proofs
and Arguments”), John Hughes (Cambridge University) suggests that most works of
“modern” apologetics uncritically (and mistakenly) accept foundationalist
epistemology instead of a uniquely Christian epistemology.[2]
Hughes’ insights could apply to Christian apologetics from the eighteenth
century onward, but instead he focuses on the past several decades. Sadly,
Hughes notes, the past generation has seen a misplaced confidence in the
autonomous value of human reason: “everyone seemed to have enormous confidence
in reason and common sense.” (3) In particular, both atheists and Christian
apologists seemed to agree that beliefs must be “proved” scientifically or
through natural theology. (4) Hughes helpfully traces such apologetic efforts
(which are characteristic of the classical and evidential approaches discussed
earlier in this article) back through William Paley to Rene Descartes, the
consensus first figure in “modern philosophy.” (5) Descartes’ epistemological
project was to reject every belief that could even possibly be doubted (no
matter how remote the possibility, how unlikely the falsity) so that only
indubitable truths remained. The resulting “foundationalism” sought a “common,
neutral, indisputable rational foundation upon which everyone could agree.” (5)
Hughes is
(rightly, in my opinion) suspicious of the origins and intents of the
foundationalist project on two grounds. First, “it simply does not seem to
work.” (5) That is, rational proofs for the existence of God are not indisputable. The
form of such proofs may be logically valid, and the premises may be more probably true
than false. But the premises are not indubitably
true, and the conclusions thus do not follow with necessity. Hence, all
that natural theology can arrive at is a “probably true” faith; it can never
bring one to full acceptance of the truths of God and the person of Christ.
Second, and more
problematically, Hughes notes that the foundationalist apologetic project stems
from “the European Enlightenment,” whose presuppositions and implications are
not at all friendly for faith in general and Christian faith in particular.
(5-6) The Enlightenment project was essentially a human-centered project,
elevating the powers and authority of human reason over and above the authority
of God’s self-revelation in Scripture. In short, the roots of Cartesian
rationalism (and hence the roots of modern apologetics in Hughes’ view) are
prideful, self-centered, and woefully mistaken.
While there is
much in Hughes’ article that is beneficial and illuminating, there are also
numerous difficulties in his contribution. First, I disagree with his
insistence that Cartesian rationalism and classical apologetics will
necessarily lead, at best, to dry deism. If all that one had were classical
theistic proofs and arguments, then Hughes would indeed be correct: such
apologetics cannot bring one to the Cross. Generally, however, classical
apologists do not presume that their rational arguments are going to result in
conversion to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Often, the perceived goal of such
classical apologetics is not conversion (immediately). Instead, the goal is
either the clearing away of intellectual brush that obscures an individual’s
perception of our pathway toward God and his Gospel, or establishing the
intellectual credibility and coherence of Christian faith to an individual (or
culture) that heretofore believed that such faith was childish, incoherent and,
therefore, in-credible. Indeed, Hughes himself hints at this toward the end of
his article:
Faith is not completely irrational after all: reason and
faith can collaborate together. Faith can deploy a more modest reason in its
service, and this more modest reason may well even lead people to faith, without being able
to ‘establish’ it.[3]
I agree, but so do
most classical (and even evidential) apologists. Given what Hughes arrives at
in the end, one wonders why he went to such lengths to berate some of the
traditions of classical apologetics in the first place. After decrying the probabilistic
nature of some apologetic arguments,[4]
Hughes recommends “the possibility of real debates and discussions, more modest
and pragmatic arguments, based on the partial
and provisional acceptance of certain
non-ultimate premises.”[5] There may be a difference
in degree between probabilistic
conclusions and partial
and provisional acceptance, but it is only a difference in degree, not
in kind. In short, I am not sure that Hughes’ own apologetic methodology will
end up looking that much different than the methodology of many classical apologists
(e.g., Craig, Montgomery, Lewis).
Second, I objected
to Hughes’ misunderstanding and resulting mischaracterization of some
individual apologetic works. First, he summarily disparages the significant
contributions of Richard Swinburne to Christian philosophy and apologetics,
bemoaning the fact that his “influence continues to be disturbingly
widespread.” (4) Even if one is not a fan of Swinburne’s content or
methodology, one should still be able to express appreciation for more than
just Swinburne’s “honourable intent”; I think it fair to applaud Swinburne for
bringing rigorous analytical philosophy to bear on Christian truths, thereby
challenging both believers and nonbelievers to assess the rationality of the
faith.[6]
Nonetheless,
Hughes does criticize Swinburne for seeking to “calculate the statistical
probability of the existence of God and the resurrection of Christ,” and then
notes that other apologists, both Catholic and Protestant, fall into that same
trap. Shockingly, he identifies Alvin Plantinga as his sole American Protestant
representative for apologists who, like Swinburne, try to rationally calculate
the probability of God’s existence. I say shockingly because anyone familiar
with Plantinga’s philosophy should be aware that Plantinga is far from being a
fan of Swinburne’s arguments. In reality, Plantinga eschews attempts to argue
probabilistically for the truths of Christianity. In fact, Plantinga argues
explicitly that one cannot
(successfully) make such arguments,[7] and supplies a lengthy and
detailed critique of Swinburne’s own probabilistic argument.[8]
Instead, Plantinga argues (in short) that belief in God both can and ought to
be accepted as properly basic, that is, not as the result of a propositional argument,
but rather as the immediate output of the sensus
divinitatis that God has implanted within each human being and that is
awakened in certain right epistemological and spiritual conditions.[9]
Hughes’ isolation
of Plantinga is highly unfortunate on two fronts. First, it demonstrates his
unfamiliarity with the (American) Protestant apologetic scene that he proceeds
to critique (if Hughes wanted to identify a Swinburnian figure, he should have
targeted someone like Josh McDowell or John Warwick Montgomery). This leads the
reader to question further claims and assertions that Hughes makes later in the
article.[10] Second, and more
importantly, Plantinga is actually a potential ally for Hughes’ apologetic
strategy and intent. Plantinga’s Reformed epistemology, with its strong
critique of classical foundationalism and its setting forth of a Christian
epistemology based on properly basic belief in God, is well suited for adoption
by Hughes and other authors in the compilation.
Despite those
(fairly severe) shortcomings in Hughes’ article, in his conclusion he happily
notes that many traditional arguments for God’s existence can be
“rehabilitated” within a “modest rationalism; not as unquestionable proofs, but
as arguments that draw out the logic of a certain position or line of thought.”
(10) Again, it is unfortunate that Hughes did not identify Plantinga as an ally
of that perspective; nonetheless, the conclusion is apt and helpful to the
contemporary apologist.
In chapter two, [11]
Davison notes that Christian faith calls for Paul’s “renewing of one’s mind”
(Romans 12:2); thus, “a distinctive understanding of reason is part of what
Christianity offers in the gospel.” (12) Davison notes that Christianity marks
not only a different set of conclusions
or propositions,
but also a different set of presuppositions, axioms, or starting points for
thought. (14) Davison also notes that the Christian faith embraces some truths
that appear alien to our culture. In our attempt to communicate the faith
directly and clearly, he insists that we cannot “be ashamed of” or “water down”
such doctrinal truths—“Christian apologetics works between these two poles of
clarity and unfamiliarity.” (23)
A focal point for
Davison is presumed shared rational bases. Davison notes that apologists and
atheists often agree upon a common ground for reason and argumentation. He
seems to be building upon Hughes’ indictment of Cartesian foundationalism, its
pursuit of deductive certainty or indubitability, and its demand for supporting
evidence for every belief. On that front, Davison’s complaint that Christian
apologists unnecessarily accept the burden of proof from the skeptic is
laudable.
Unfortunately,
Davison goes on to unnecessarily question the ability of Christians to work on
the basis of shared rational bases with non-Christians. Davison complains, “The
myth of neutral reason lives on in New Atheist polemics. As a sort of mirror
image, this outdated and increasingly exotic approach to knowledge also turns
up in certain forms of Christian apologetics.” (18) The “myth of neutral
reason” would normally be understood to imply the myth that human beings can be
purely impartial, objective observers, not affected by biases, prejudices, or
worldview presuppositions.[12]
Davison would surely insist that such “neutral reason” does not exist. Fair
enough. But Davison substantially expands the definition of “neutral reason.”
Against apologists who wish to employ the principle of non-contradiction as a
“universally accepted” and “practically undeniable” rational starting point,
Davison (oddly) argues, “Fully respectable branches of mathematics . . . deny
the principle of non-contradiction, as do various sorts of postmodern
philosophy.” (19) On the latter point, Davison is surely, but irrelevantly,
correct—some postmodern philosophers do
deny the principle of non-contradiction, but analytical philosophers retort
that their very attempt to deny
the principle must, in the end, utilize the very principle they are seeking to
reject.
On the former
point, I am fairly confident that Davison is incorrect—I am unaware of any
branch of contemporary mathematics that explicitly denies the principle of non-contradiction.[13]
It would have helped if Davison had at least provided a footnote to
substantiate his claim, but unfortunately, he does not do so. Again, the lack
of citation leads at least this reader to question the source and reliability
of Davison’s claim. It could well be that Davison is correct, that “fully
respectable branches of mathematics” do indeed reject the law of non-contradiction;
but Davison has given me no reason to overturn my intuitive belief that
mathematics in general relies upon the law—an intuitive belief that has been
strengthened by feedback from respected colleagues in mathematics. In short, I
am more optimistic of our ability to find some rational common ground with
contemporary non-Christians—including the principle of non-contradiction—than
Davison claims to be.
In the end,
however, I think Davison himself is more optimistic on this front than he
claims to be. At the conclusion of his essay, he argues that Christians can
helpfully “enter into someone else’s rationality . . . to point out its internal inconsistencies.”[14] I
agree wholeheartedly, but must ask: What if “their rationality” does not care
about inconsistency? It seems that Davison is implicitly assuming a shared,
common human rationality that desires and values internal
consistency—fundamental principles that all people accept. In other words,
Davison is presuming the law of non-contradiction holds and that people holding
other worldviews will also acknowledge the importance of logical coherence.
Davison identifies
three additional propositions that contemporary apologists treat as
“universally accepted as true, and . . . practically undeniable.”[15]
The three foundations, which are treated by many as shared but which Davison
suggests are not so shared, are the general reliability of sense perception,
the law of causality, and self-consciousness.[16]
There are some difficulties in Davison’s treatments of each of those
foundations as well. For example, Davison correctly notes that “[s]cience and
philosophy of all sorts qualify the reliability of sense perception.” (19) Granted.
However, what apologists are treating as common ground is not an unqualified
reliability of sense perception, but rather the general
reliability of sense perception; arguably, that is a nearly universal
presupposition. Indeed, it would be difficult to see how one could live
consistently without embracing it.
With regards to
self-consciousness, Davison correctly notes, “The self is profoundly
mysterious. Its existence will often seem more like a guttering wick than the
solid entity Hahn has in mind.” Davison then asks rhetorically, “Who really
understands him- or herself?” (23) Agreed. But again, what is being treated as
virtually universal and undeniable is not self-assurance or self-understanding,
but rather self-consciousness—awareness that
I exist, even if that is as far as my self-understanding goes. To a
degree, then, Davison seems guilty of constructing straw men with features of
rationality that are actually treated by many apologists as rational common
ground.
Even so, these quibbles
with Davison’s treatment of rationality do not detract from what is
fundamentally a strong and very helpful essay. Davison reminds the reader that,
as a Christian, he or she embraces not just rationality,
but a specifically Christian
rationality: a different way of thinking. That way of thinking, in turn,
is inculcated through a Christian community where disciples are built and
trained. Indeed, Davison helpfully concludes that the reliability of sense
perception and the law of causality can only find sufficient grounding in “a
Christian view of rationality.” (22)
Both Hughes and
Davison provide a necessary and important consideration of the relationship
between faith and reason. In our increasingly post-Christian western culture,
such examination is essential. Too frequently, non-Christians and Christians
alike have truncated and unhelpful implicit understandings of faith as ‘belief without
evidence’ (or even belief in the face of contrary evidence), and see faith and
reason as being at loggerheads. While I would prefer to see a more nuanced
perspective than Hughes provides, both scholars point us in the direction of
articulating a distinctly Christian epistemology that values both chastened reason
and robust faith.
In my next blog
post, I will move on to the next section of Imaginative
Apologetics – three strong articles on the intersection of apologetics and
human imagination.
[1] Tawa J.
Anderson, “Apologetics, Imagination, and Imaginative
Apologetics,” in Trinity Journal
34 (2013): 229-51.
[2]
John Hughes, “Proofs and Arguments,” in Imaginative
Apologetics, 3-11. Further references to Hughes’ essay will put
respective page numbers in parenthetical citations.
[3]
John Hughes, “Proofs and Arguments,” 10. Emphasis added.
[4]
“Richard Swinburne famously claims to calculate the statistical probability of
the existence of God and the resurrection of Christ. . . . This is problematic,
to put it mildly . . . [it is] absurd in suggesting that the existence of God
and the resurrection of Christ are things whose probability can be measured
like any other ordinary ‘thing’ in the world.” Hughes, “Proofs and Arguments,”
4.
[5]
Hughes, “Proofs and Arguments,” 9. Emphasis added.
[6]
Hughes does indeed note that “Swinburne’s efforts, and many similar attempts
were of course honourable in intent.” It comes across, however, as damning with
faint praise.
[7]
E.g., in Alvin Plantinga, Warranted
Christian Belief (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 441-42.
[10]
Indeed, on the next page, Hughes correctly cites William Paley as the
originator of the famous ‘Watchmaker’ argument, but incorrectly argues that
Paley’s analogy has a watch found “on the beach.” Paley, of course, has his
imaginary traveler stumble upon a watch “in a heath”—a heath being a British
term for a relatively uncultivated grassy field, certainly not a beach. The
error is minor and inconsequential; but when combined with his
misidentification of Plantinga earlier, the error exacerbates the reader’s
sense that Hughes does not understand the field and figures that he is
criticizing. Furthermore, Hughes fails to cite or footnote either Plantinga or
Paley, making one wonder whether he has read either Protestant author in his
own words.
[11]
Andrew Davison, “Christian Reason and Christian Community,” in Imaginative Apologetics,
12-28. Further references to Davison’s article will have page numbers in
parenthetical citations.
[12]
Indeed, the myth of neutral reason is another element of Cartesian
foundationalism.
[13]
I am grateful for helpful email conversations with mathematicians Sarah Marsh,
John Nichols, and Paul Baginski on this issue.
[14]
Davison, “Christian Reason and Christian Community,” 25. Emphasis added.
[15]
Davison, “Christian Reason and Christian Community,” 19. In this section,
Davison has identified Catholic apologist Scott Hahn as his intellectual foil.
See Hahn’s Reasons to
Believe: How to Understand, Explain, and Defend the Catholic Faith (New
York: Doubleday, 2007).
[16]
Hahn identifies those three, along with the law of non-contradiction, as the
four rational premises accepted by virtually everyone. See Hahn, Reasons to Believe,
20.
