Intellectuelle   Philosophy

Link to us and you, too, can get "discovered" (once people discover us!).  Browsing through the stats, I found Wittingshire, co-authored by a husband and wife.  Amanda explains how LOTR came to be the theme of their blog, offering up Tolkien's own explanation of the ring of power as what led them to define it as  philosophical materialism (a.k.a. naturalism, which is the belief that the natural/physical/tangible world is all that exists, i.e. no spiritual world).  Read the post to see her argument and then come back to comment on this conclusion:

Did you catch that? Materialism (also known as naturalism) denies the existence of free will; that is, it takes away freedom. It says your will doesn't exist, that everything you do--every song or poem you write, every good deed you perform, every cruelty you inflict--is not a choice or a creative act, but is simply the inevitable result of causes over which you have no control.

Materialism says you are nothing but a puppet.

While I totally agree with her point about materialism, what struck me was how much this sounded like Calvinism (minus the God aspect, which I know is huge).  This is one reason I haven't fully embraced the Reformed view, though I lean toward it more than any other.  I keep having the sense that all theological explanations about God's sovereignty and our free will (or lack thereof) are incomplete and that the tension between those concepts will be dissolved when we shed this earthly existence.  C.S. Lewis helps me out here (it's only fitting to mention him in the same post with fellow inkling Tolkien):

Can a mortal ask questions which God finds unanswerable? Quite easily, I should think... How many hours are there in a mile? Is yellow square or round? Probably half the questions we ask - half our great theological and metaphysical problems - are like that. ~from A Grief Observed

(I googled for that quote and it ended up taking me to my own blog -- I love it when that happens!)

Anyone who knows me at all knows that the subject of common ground between believers and unbelievers is a topic I take great interest in. My position is that believers and unbelievers lack epistemic common ground and so anything that looks like agreement on the surface is just that - on the surface.

So the article, Paul before the Areopagus: Reflections on the Apostle's Encounter with Cultured Paganism" in the current Philosophia Christi has obvious interest to me. J. Daryl Charles writes:

"Paul is not waxing dishonest in seeking to establish rapport with his audience; he is, however, using wisdom in bridge-building...A very conspicuous strategy in Paul's address is the movement from general to specific. The apostle moves in calculated fashion from general revelatoin (vv. 22-9), which serves as a bridge or common ground between believer and unbeliever, to special revelation..."

We know from Romans 1 that all men know about God, I'm not disputing what Scripture says man knows. I am questioning, however, whether appeals to general revelation are rightly categorized as "common ground" arguments. This is something I've been working to articulate for some time...as some attempt to engage culture with arguments from "common ground" and appeal to Paul's visit to the Areopagus as grounds for doing so, they must remember that Paul wasn't done with his argument until he preached the risen Christ - an obvious proclamation of special revelation.

Marcus Aurelius (121-180 A.D.) was among the most famous Stoics of the Roman era, as well as one of the fiercest persecutors of the Roman Christians during his reign as emperor (161-180). For background reading for a class on Constantine, last week I was reading his Meditations, a sort of self-interactive reflection on his education from childhood to manhood. Ironically, they resemble another great work of the period: Augustine's Confessions. The likeness does not end there, though - the striking surface similarities of the Stoic and Christian philosophies warrant a closer analytical look. Here my purpose is only to give an introduction (hopefully one that might spark debate or encourage more knowledgeable philosophers to comment) to Stoicism in comparison to and in contrast with Christianity; you can find a whole lot more by doing a Wikipedia search. (I feel like I'm cheating by saying that...)

Elusive, mysterious, and almost dubiously brilliant as portrayed in Plato's dialogues, Socrates (470-399 B.C.) lived during the classical age of Athenian democracy. He was thought to hold unconventional ideas about the traditional Greek gods - an especially dangerous move in light of the unfavorable events of the Peloponnesian War, which suspiciously came at a time when the gods were increasingly neglected or defamed - and this made him, standing out in the heavily communalistic Athens, a prime candidate for one of Aristophanes' pointed comedies. In The Clouds, "Socrates" is the head of a sort of gnostic (note the lowercase 'g') institution where he has done away with the gods and replaced them with natural phenomena (e.g. clouds). In reality, he denied being any kind of natural philosopher, and his "services" were free and open to the public, but his dexterous dialectic method tended to reveal mere pretense of knowledge in those who were thought the wisest, thus making it an "ask at your own risk" venture for interested philosophizers. Eventually the risk became much higher for Socrates himself.

The victors over Athens in the Peloponnesian War, the Spartans, had a strictly oligarchic government; ideologically, this also set the two cities at odds. Spartans thought (read: did family planning) in terms of definite, inborn characteristics and abilities that were to be developed according to the way the individual could best be employed for the good of the state. Athenians prided themselves on their good faith in the natural ability of any man to run a government - they counted all male citizens qualified for public office. But Socrates was thought to have oligarchic sympathies - strike two against him.

Now, since I'm no good at history lessons, let's get to the meat of this. The Sophists were traveling non-Athenian intellectuals who boasted in their rhetorical abilities and graciously condescended to educate any willing buffoon who could satisfy them financially. They liked to do their business in Attica most of all because Athens (home to the agora, the marketplace for fish, fruit, and...philosophy), was a place where it was perhaps normal to sit a child on your lap, look into his eyes, and say, "When you grow up, you can be whatever you want, dear." This isn't lying, of course - it is charitable, democratic parenting in action!

(This is in no way an indirect jab at any of Hannah's sources of humor in the preceding post. I came across the quote while reading today, and it is along the lines of my own recently developing philosophy of humor, upon which I may expound...someday.)

One who tries to raise a laugh at any spectacle save that of baseness and folly will also, in his serious moments, set before himself some other standard than goodness of what deserves to be held in honor.

I�ve been reflecting lately on the influences that led to my becoming a Christian as well as on those that have informed my faith. These influences have, I would say, been largely evangelical with an emphasis on the experience of faith. By experience, however, I do not necessarily mean in the sense of �I experienced this wonderful, warm feeling that told me that God is really there.� I mean experience as in experiencing the changed life that results from an authentic belief in salvation through Jesus Christ. Personally, I would count readings in philosophy and theology as influential and as experiential as relationships or anything else I�ve experienced that have illuminated God�s reality and love to me. (I realize that my own conversion experience may or may not be similar to anyone else�s.)

As to just what constitutes experience, though, clearly any thought a person has ever had has been experienced just the same as any feeling that�s been experienced. An experience is something that happens to you.

The denomination of the church I belong to, the Evangelical Covenant Church, had its beginning among Swedes who were seeking an authentic faith as opposed to what was being offered by much of the state Lutheran church at the time. They sought to experience the new life in Christ rather than merely assent to dry doctrine that did not result in new life.

Now, doctrine ultimately should not be �dry,� of course, and ought not be considered doctrine unless it is indeed the truth that, once believed, results in new life. Truth is truth, this cannot be denied. But just what is truth? Is truth limited to that which can only be apprehended intellectually? Is true doctrine found only in thought? If doctrine is to apply to whole persons, as surely it must, then it must be found in affection as well. We are not merely minds, we are also hearts (feeling-entities). The Bible speaks of belief, which is an assent of both the heart and the mind (consent of the will). If one wants something to be true but cannot consent to it, then one doesn�t truly believe. If one thinks that something may be true but cannot sympathize or harmonize with it, then one doesn�t truly believe. Though truth certainly is not dependent upon someone believing it in order to actually be true, and though one can experience truth whether one assents, consents, or sympathizes with it or not, a person cannot experience salvation unless one assents, consents, and sympathizes with the gospel. Regarding Truth-with-a-capital-T (absolute truth), the redemptive and regenerative part of it cannot be and will not be experienced unless one consents and sympathizes. And if one does not consent/sympathize, then, because Truth is Truth, one will experience its damnation.

If proper doctrine is spoken but not lived and demonstrated by those speaking it, can it truly be taught by those speaking it? Can it truly be imparted? Can the Word of God by itself transform? I don�t believe so. Can God cause the Word of God to transform someone (via the Spirit) regardless of the example of the source? Yes, of course, but I wonder how often this actually happens. Persons who accept a teaching �out of context,� so to speak, are probably not as likely to accept Truth as they are a counterfeit or a sham (i.e., whatever is being represented). Or, more likely, they will not accept it at all. There is more that conveys the Truth than mere word. And there is more that prevents a person from accepting the Truth than mere hardness of heart on that person�s part. It may be a truly receptive heart that refuses to accept even a word of Truth that is not conveyed with the Spirit that witnesses to it (or if one has never had an experience that enables one to comprehend the Truth).

Whether or not consent to and sympathy for the gospel is wrought wholly by God is a matter of very serious debate among Christians today. I won�t argue it here. But I think that the debate ought to be viewed holistically.

Here�s my proposition: if doctrine is thought, then it must be feeling as well. If doctrine applies to the whole person, then it must encompass the Truth as it applies to feeling as well as to thought. One cannot have proper thought without proper affection, and vice-versa. What I mean by this is, salvation comes by the love of God that comes by God's love. Love is greater than both thought and feeling though it informs and illuminates both.

The Bible speaks often of �hardness of heart.� This refers to an unyielding will. The will encompasses both the mind and the heart � it must. The will cannot merely involve mind over feeling; if one chooses to do what is right in the eyes of God as far as one believes, then one is choosing an allegiance to God over an allegiance to something else, whether that something else is a feeling or a thought that is at odds with what is right in the eyes of God. Allegiance therefore involves the choosing of one affection over another, or one thought over another. As long as we are in this life and possessed of fallen humanity, we will always live with a conflict between our fallen-ness and the redemptive life that comes only from God through Christ and is given only by God. Anyone who denies this is denying reality. (Romans 7:14-25)

This conflict, therefore, is the experience of the one living by faith in God through Christ. This conflict is truth. Yet, praise God that, through Jesus and the Holy Spirit, we may also experience the truth of salvation and be delivered from the truth of condemnation and damnation.

Deep subject, yeah, and though many worthier than I have waxed eloquent upon it, I shall blithely share my own ruminations.

beauty, n.
1. the qualities that give pleasure to the senses
2. smasher: a very attractive or seductive looking woman
3. an outstanding example of its kind; "his roses were beauties"; "when I make a mistake it's a beaut"
4. Beauty is the phenomenon of the experience of pleasure, through the perception of balance and proportion of stimulus. It involves the cognition of a balanced form and structure that elicits attraction and appeal towards a person, animal, inanimate object, scene, music, idea, etc.
5. a Primary Principle, is defined as such combined perfection of form and charm of coloring as affords keen pleasure to the sense of sight, that quality or combination of qualities which affords keen pleasure to other senses (e.g, hearing), or which charms the intellectual or moral faculties, through inherent grace, or fitness to a desired end, an embellishment, ornament, grace, charm. Beauty is defined by Plato as the Luster of Good.

In C. S. Lewis I found identified and defined a driving force within myself: sehnsucht (Ger.) � that quality awakened in Lewis by his brother�s toy garden and later by Nordic myths and the writings of George MacDonald. It is a longing embodied in �true myth� � an exquisitely deep, painful yearning for ultimate joy and perfection, which Lewis saw as a longing for the God Who authored it.

This longing of course can be corrupted, hence relentless pursuit of perfect health, perfect(ly beautiful) homes, perfect jobs, perfect vacations, perfect(ly beautiful) lovers, et cetera. Yet we know that there is a beauty beyond mere aesthetics, appearances, conveniences, or even pleasures, and the perfection inherent in that beauty is a perfection from beyond this world.

I leave the debate over what constitutes civilities to others... I have no real comments on the Ted Haggard issue, primarily because I believe we are not over the worst of such yet. I think lots more exposure of the church, its leaders and methods, is awaiting us. There will plenty to blog about -especially as we go into the next presidential campaign in earnest. So, in this time, and for this purpose, I want to resume looking at fundamental ideas and views we have which tend to articulate our direction in the culture,and as a culture. Our views of women, our ideals of egalitarianism.

What we think will determine how we act, and the degree of clarity we have will impact our ability to fend off manipulation that is a part of moving large groups to go in specific directions. In other words, the better handle we have on what and how we think the more likely that we act, as individuals and citizens, and saints, in concordance with our core beliefs.

So, in the service of that goal, a look at and discussion of some points in an article that was published 3/29/2006:
"Culture wars: Beware of presuming sameness" by Jonathan Zimmerman.

Has anyone else but me noticed an inherent contradiction in the underlying convictions that drive annual “Earth Day” celebrations? The vast majority of those who attend such fetes are Darwinists who believe humans have a moral obligation to protect the environment. My question is: Why?

For millions of years “Mother Nature” has spewed noxious fumes and poisonous gasses into the atmosphere and littered the landscape with ash and lava without our help. She's killed species we never saw and heated and cooled the earth solo. Indeed, the most “natural” condition in the universe is death. As far as we know, Earth is completely unique; death reigns everywhere else.

Species have passed into extinction at a steady rate from the beginning of time, the strong supplanting the weak. Why shouldn’t they? Each is in a struggle-to-the-death for survival. It is a dance of destruction that fuels the evolutionary process as every creature exploits every other creature for its own benefit. Survival of the fittest - that’s evolution.

No locust swarm stops short of denuding a field because it ought to “leave a bit for the crickets. After all, they all have a right to be here.” The logic of naturalism and the rules of evolution dictate human beings rape our environment, just as everything else does, not protect it.

The moral obligations underpinning Earth Day simply do not follow from the naturalistic world view that embraces Darwinism.

Now, I am for conservation and stewardship of the Earth. But that follows, rather, from a theistic world view in which God has created man as unique and given him responsibility over the Earth to care for it. Earth Day makes sense for Christians, not for Darwinists.

Chuck Colson speaks of the philosophy of Ayn Rand in a recent Breakpoint commentary. Apparently, Atlas Shrugged, Rand's most popular work, came in second (next to the Bible) in a 1991 Book-of-the-Month Club and Library of Congress survey asking members which book had most influenced their lives. According to Colson, 50 years after the book's publication and 25 years after Rand's death, Atlas Shrugged is still widely read. "Given its popularity and impact," as Colson says, it should be read by Christian believers as well.

Rand's "me-first" philosophy essentially turns Christian philosophy on its head (from what I remember of what I read some time ago). Virtue is whatever serves the self; vice is self-sacrifice. (In an intellectual sort of way...her philosophy is complex, and caution should be exercised when trying to boil it down. However, the way she takes true evils and attaches them to non-evils, and vice-versa, is the essence of rationalistic confusion, as well as of that which rationalizes.)

Colson goes on to mention a book by Scott Ryan explaining how Rand's manipulative behavior was justified by her beliefs:

We're not talking here about personal flaws or merely human weaknesses. As Ryan puts it, these abuses are "demonstrably connected to Rand's own 'philosophical' premises"—that is, her worldview.

What this illustrates is that people don't necessarily develop behavior to suit their beliefs; more likely it's the other way around. They search for a belief system that allows them to justify what they want to think and do. Essentially, they search for a system that justifies or has already established those beliefs which they themselves hold in seminal form. Even among those who call themselves Christians, you will find this. Once a person has "sanctified" her behavior by her beliefs, then, she establishes both the behavior and the beliefs. Her behavior will then follow from her beliefs -- and vice-versa -- in an ongoing cycle of justification.

(Makes you wonder why justification is so important to such a person...)

In contrast to behavior sanctified by beliefs is that which follows belief authored, not by oneself, but by God. There is no one who accepts the gospel who is not brought to reckon with his or her own thoughts and behaviors. The gospel compels a person to repent -- turn from wickedness -- and walk in the Spirit. Only by the Spirit can this self-sacrifice occur. Certainly self-sacrificial behavior is evident among those who do not profess to be Christians, but I believe it's still led by the Spirit, Who can work in and through anyone. Yet it's only the person that consciously wills to serve the Father who can consistently walk in the Spirit.

That is why it is said, "You will know them by their fruit" (Matthew 7). "The fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control." (Galatians 5:22-23).

Upright thought and behavior needs no rationalization.

I can't remember the last time I found the introduction to a book so completely and delightfully satisfying as the one in Gregory Vlastos' Socrates: Ironist and Moral Philosopher. Really. I hope to someday read the entire book, though I may never fully understand it, as it is part of a body of scholarship with a history that can only be apprehended substantially by the lifetime student of the specific discipline of Socratic study. (Which is part of my point in telling you about the introduction. But I'll get to that.)

"How This Book Came to Be" starts off like this:

Socrates' "strangeness" (ατοπια) is the keynote of Alcibiades' speech about him in the Symposium. The talk starts on that note (215A); and reverts to it near the end:

Such is his strangeness that you will search and search among those living now and among men of the past, and never come close to what he is himself and to the things he says. (221D)

This book is for readers of Plato's earlier dialogues who have felt this strangeness, have asked themselves what to make of it, have pondered answers to its enigmas, and are willing to work their way through yet another. What I offer should not distract them from their encounter with the Socrates who lives in Plato's text. It should take them back there for a closer look.

By this time there are two long footnotes, together about two-thirds the length of the text I just quoted. The 20-page Introduction has more footnotes than some books I've read (74). But I'm glad, because they explain and support the text and provide sources. (When it comes to scholarship, thoroughness is a cardinal virtue.)

In as abbreviated form as I can manage (these are, after all, blog posts), I will synopsize the story:

Continued from part I, in which I introduced the Introduction to *Vlastos' Socrates: Ironist and Moral Philosopher and ended by mentioning the means by which Vlastos was spurred to attempt solution of Socrates' central paradox (the strangeness of his irony): a book by his student, Terry Irwin, and their ensuing debate.

Vlastos initially refutes one of Irwin's central claims while praising his talent and work, which "did more to invigorate and deepen my understanding of its topic than anything I had yet read." This after having read and taught Plato for fifty years. Irwin responds, Vlastos replies, and so on in a six-month "merry-go-round" - "the longest philosophical exchange on record in the correspondence columns of the Times Literary Supplement."

Though neither his nor Irwin's philosophical view of Socrates' view is stated explicitly by Socrates, Vlastos explains that "every philosophical interpretation of his philosophy has to go, to some degree, beyond what is said in so many words in our texts." Yet in order to be true, he argues, a view must consistently be found in the available representative texts of the appropriate period (following the "well-established 'principle of charity'"**). Even more than this, such a view must make "good sense" - not be something so ridiculous that only "a madman would entertain it seriously."

Certainly sanity, and sane reasoning, are worth keeping in all endeavors, as is the practice of always going with the weight of the evidence. And assuming, without evidence to the contrary, that a view, such as Socrates', is sane.

Vlastos believes that, had his debate with Irwin been reviewed impartially, Irwin's would have been judged "the best case for the weaker thesis."*** But the challenge clarified and cemented Vlastos' own thinking, marking "a milestone" in his understanding of Socrates and "his true place in the development of Greek thought." Further, the debate was "free from acrimony," one which neither strained his relationship with Irwin nor "impeded the development of what was to become one of the cherished friendships of my life and one of the most productive."

In this value, as with the others I have enumerated, I find Vlastos a kindred spirit.

I also appreciate his honesty in acknowledging that his first post-debate essay went too far (as explained in the book); he cites Irwin's help in correcting this. He also praises those who interacted with his points in post-seminar discussions (graduate and post-graduate), acknowledging their role in helping him find the "right terms" to understand and expound the true relation of virtue to happiness in Socrates.

* a memorial to Vlastos' contemporary, J. L. Ackrill, (in the TLS) gives a bit of context for Vlastos' work.

** The principle of charity which Vlastos employs "makes a construction of a writer's words which preserves consistency preferable to any which does not."

*** I must confess that in trying to follow and understand Vlastos' reasoning, I actually found myself better appreciating Irwin's, as represented by Vlastos. But no matter.

In part I, I commended scholar of ancient philosophy Gregory Vlastos' desire to understand Socrates in truth, especially that aspect of Socrates which, in his opinion, had been the least "well understood in the preceding literature." I highlighted his thoroughness, his humility, and his willingness to trust his own intuition and junk a book manuscript on which he'd labored long, simply because he knew, even if no one else would know or care, that it was missing something important.

I spotlighted Vlastos' honesty and awareness of the problems inherent in scholarly pursuit: he acknowledges its limits, caprices, practicalities, and inspirations (or lack thereof). I mentioned his desire to make Socrates' thought, and his own thoughts on that thought, comprehensible to the common educated person, not merely the specialist (what Vlastos called "humanism"). Insofar as Socrates' thought is worth understanding by as many as have capacity to understand it, this is also commendable. I concluded with his acknowledgment of the difficulty the modern person has in avoiding anachronistic understanding of ancient thought.

In part II I touched on the process by which Vlastos' developed his own thought, and the crucial part that his students, seminar attendees, and colleagues played in this. Pointing out yet another aspect of his scholarly integrity, I mentioned the principal of charity to which he adhered. Most of all, I supplied the example of his spirited disagreement and protracted debate with a star student which, due to its composure and freedom from acrimony, served to strengthen their relationship rather than threaten or destroy it.

What I found most interesting about the Introduction to Vlastos' Socrates: Ironist and Moral Philosopher is revelation that the process of understanding Socrates' ατοπια took this top scholar in the field such a long time. And even then, he acknowledged that his work was not yet finished, and that his scholarly, well-studied, long-thought-out opinion was still that -- an opinion, one that ought be junked "if it does not strike my readers, on due consideration, as the most reasonable interpretation of our Socratic texts." The reason I bring this out is to say that, when seeking to understand something challenging, be it a relationship, a practical problem in the home or workplace, or a social or cultural phenomenon such as declining church attendance, gender imbalance in church attendance, or a cultural ill, especially when there are many contributing factors, is that it might be wise not to jump to ready or overly-simple conclusions, or assume that a ready solution is easily found.

And so ends the preamble to this series. One of the main things I aim to show is that the case that both society and the church are feminized in a bad way fails to follow the path to excellence, rightness, and truth as laid out in the Introduction to Vlastos' book, yet has been picked up and perpetuated by well-meaning people whose agenda, preconceived ideas, gullibility, or fears have gotten in the way of careful analysis and understanding. I encourage any who spot errors as I go along to please alert me, as Terry Irwin and others did for Vlastos. I do not intend this series to be a "finished product," but to make a contribution and hopefully spur further thought on the part of others, as well as myself.

Cow: "The only way you'll find happiness is to accept that the way things are, is the way things are."

--- from the movie "Babe"

I haven't been so excited about a book since...I can't remember when. (Since I read something by C. S. Lewis, probably.) Even the Preface and Introduction to Cornelius Plantinga, Jr.'s Not the Way It's Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin are so succulent with rich analysis, they could sustain and energize me for a long time.

It's this kind of cut-to-the-chase, bottom-of-things analysis that I live for, and constantly try to do myself. Though I fail most of the time, or so it seems. So when I find something that goes farther, more comprehensively than I am able to go, and in such a deft and competent manner, my heart just sings.

Another reason I'm excited about this book is because I've always been a sort of Ferdinand myself, not very happy about "the way things are." I just never could accept certain things. As I get older, I'm getting better at accepting, though still not happily. (Not that these things depress me, but I can't just go "La la la, that's okay, whatever.")

So, I'm going to quote from and discuss this book in the days to come. The task of selecting quotes is daunting, to say the least, as just about every single sentence is quotable. There's no shortage of pungent one-liners, pungent not just for their humor but for their poignancy and wry observance of truth.

I'll start off (and leave you, for today) with this one:

Recalling and confessing our sin is like taking out the garbage: once is not enough.

In reading James K. A. Smith's review of D. A. Carson's Christ and Culture Revisted at ChristianityToday.com, I found something that may help explain David Kotter's statements that the church is eternal and government isn't, which I discussed in two previous posts. (Perhaps many of you are already aware of Carson's stance.)

Carson concludes that "the only human organization that continues into eternity is the church."

I (obviously) have not read Carson's book, or much else by him, so I only have this review to go on. Smith also says,

Carson tends to treat culture as a given and fails to offer a theology of culture that shows how the work of human making is rooted in creation itself.

He says that Carson sees salvation and redemption in terms of human beings and not those things which humans have created. Carson sees the job of the church as being "churchy stuff": church practices which equip the saints for evangelism. Ministries of compassion and justice are seen as marginal: "While Christians might engage in a little cultural engagement on the side, they are called 'first and foremost' to be 'gospel Christians, deeply engaged in their local churches, extraordinarily disciplined in their own Bible reading and evangelism.'" Nothing in culture has final status; culture is essentially politics, and, eschatologically, all that will remain in eternity is the church.

Smith's summary:

Such a flattened vision of our redeemed future is the correlate of a stunted understanding of creation.

I hope to explore and comment on this further...stay tuned.

I was glad to see both iMonk and Justin Taylor express constructive criticism of John Piper's statement on the election, although they didn't express concern over some of the parts that concerned me. More about that in a minute.

I was also glad that iMonk expressed the need for critical engagement with Piper and explained why there hasn't been more. (I knew I couldn't be the only one with concerns, or with the concerns I have.) So I am encouraged, on many levels. I know I should also say how much I appreciate Piper, and am sure that if I read more of him, I could. Trouble is, most of what I've read have been his statements on gender issues, which I haven't been able to commend. But my lack of exposure to his other teaching should be rectified. I do appreciate what he says, in his statement on the election, about the sovereignty of God, the far-reaching evil of abortion, and the commendability of a black man being elected President of the U.S.

Here's what gave me pause:

a person with my view may very well vote for a woman to be President if the man running against her holds views and espouses policies that may, as far as we can see, do more harm to more people than we think would be done by electing a woman President and thus exalting a flawed pattern of womanhood. In my view, defending abortion is far worse sin for a man than serving as Vice President is for a woman.

Taylor reads this as putting the issues of womanhood and abortion on different levels, on which one is the greater evil and another the lesser, such that we may need to choose from the lesser of two evils. I agree that we must often choose between the lesser of evils, or less-than-ideal options. But what strikes me is the reason given here for one being lesser: it does less harm to less people. This is, essentially, a utilitarian notion. Not that utilitarianism is completely problematic -- sometimes an ethical choice can and must legitimately be made with utility in mind. But...not always, and not, I believe, in this case.

First, to make a utilitarian argument here is to make both abortion and a woman being Vice-President into black-and-white issues, which I don't believe they are. To explain: I am 150% against abortion as birth control or even in cases of rape or incest; this is a black-and-white issue in my mind. But I also recognize that occasionally there arise situations in which a terrible choice must be made, between the life of the mother and the life of an unborn child. However, when it comes to the issue of a woman being Vice-President, there are many factors which would determine whether or not this is a good idea, none of them being a "flawed pattern of womanhood."

When it comes to women wanting to have the same basic opportunities as men, the reaction is sometimes along the lines of Moses' to Korah, Dathan, and Abiram in Numbers 16: "You Levites have gone too far!" Indeed, the three had said to Moses and Aaron, "You have gone too far! The whole community is holy, every one of them, and the Lord is with them. Why then do you set yourselves above the Lord's assembly?"

The reason is that the three Levites denied and forgot (or ignored) the clear and proven calling of Moses and Aaron in God's service, and didn't trust God to bring the children of Israel safely into the promised land. You see where I'm going with this. Anyone, including women, can be guilty of resentment, lack of trust, and inability to appreciate their own calling or station in life. And they ought rightly be told, "You've gone too far!"

However... I think there is a difference between this sort of distrustful covetousness and a simple longing for freedom - for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Was it wrong of the slave to wish for the freedoms that the white man possessed? Is it wrong for a woman to wish for equity with men in terms of basic life opportunities? Said Charlotte Bronte, in Jane Eyre:

Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex. (Chapter XII)

I do not believe that, for want of the aforementioned, woman has a right to storm the Bastille (in a manner of speaking). She has no "right" to think or act badly, even if her situation is unjust (unlike her Old Testament counterparts'). Yet she is perfectly right to speak up for both herself and her fellow-women when given opportunity. She is perfectly right to speak up for what is right. (And perfectly feminine to do so.) Like Gianna Jessen, late-term abortion survivor:

(HT to Ilona @ truegrit)

In Part II of Ms. Jessen's speech, she tells men that they are made for greatness. She calls on them to stand up and be men, and to defend women and children, as well as what is right and good. And she calls on women to know their worth and value, that we are made to be fought for. She asks her audience, "What sort of people are you going to be? Now is your moment. I trust that you will rise to the occasion."

(And all I have to say to that is, "Amen.")