The Bird & Babe Public House

We offer pithy pontifications by the pint-full, and the best brain-food this side of Blogsford. There's no cover charge, and it's all you can eat/drink (although we strongly encourage moderation). Like any other pub, we always appreciate a good tip.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Surprised by Joy

There are many so called "arguments for the existence of God"; there are the cosmological, the teleological, the ontological, the axiological arguments, among others. Now, I do not think that we can prove the existence of God any more than I think we can prove the existence of man. Descartes missed one thing in his cogito. Namely, that he was assuming his existence (I) before he even began to think. One has to be a fool, or perhaps a philosopher, to deny one's existence. Similarly, "the fool has said in his heart there is no God."

There are some things (which for C. S. Lewis was Joy), I think, which might lead us to God. I think this is how we should view the so called arguments for the existence of God. It is not that God exists once we have demonstrated His existence. God always exists. Rather, I think it might be that we "exist", at least a different kind of existence, once we have discovered God.

One such demonstration is C. S. Lewis' argument from Joy (found in Surprised by Joy, p.220...which I recently finished reading). Lewis begins with the premise that a desire is not turned to itself, but is turned to its object. In fact, "it owes all its character to its object." It is the object that either makes the desire desirable ("sweet" or "choice") or not desirable ("harsh" or "coarse"). My desire for my wife is not turned to the desire itself, but to my wife (and this is sweet not hash, choice not coarse!).

The second premise of Lewis' argument says that everyone has a desire for Joy. This is almost assumed for Lewis, and he likens his joy to the words "good" and "love." As we, naturally I suppose, desire good things, and most of all love, so too we have a desire for joy.

The problem for Lewis, being an atheist, at this point, was seeing what conclusion followed from these premises. He had a desire for something and therefore there must be some object to which his desire is turned. Lewis says, "I was wrong in supposing that I desired Joy itself. Joy itself, considered simply as an event in my own mind was of no value at all."

Naturally this begs the question, "To what was his joy turned?". Lewis says that the object of joy cannot be his own mind or body for he had tried that, and failed. Thus, "in a way" he had "proved this by elimination." What was it then? Lewis said that this Joy was proclaiming to him "You want--I myself am your want of--something other, outside, not you nor any state of you."

Lewis said that this gave him a sense of awe as he realized that "in deepest solitude there is a road right out of the self, a commerce with something which, by refusing to identify itself with any object of the senses, or anything whereof we may have biological or social need, or anything imagined, or any state of our own minds, proclaims itself sheerly objective. More objective than bodies for it is not, like them, clothed in our senses, the naked other, imageless (though our imagination salutes it with a hundred images), unknown, undefined, desired."

No wonder Lewis, a staunch atheist at this point, was surprised!

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Monday, August 21, 2006

Toil

I was recently reading Peter Kreeft's marvelous book Three Philosophies of Life, in which he explores the significance of Ecclesiastes, Job and Song of Songs. In presenting Ecclesiastes, he explains that the book of Ecclesiastes presents the greatest question that can be asked, while the rest of the Bible is the answer to that question. He also states that this particular book is essentially trying to make sense of life without faith in God.

One thing I love about Kreeft is how clear and logical his writing is. One particularly helpful insight made in this book is that the whole book of Ecclesiastes can be broken down into a logical syllogism:

1. All “toil” is “under the sun”.
2. And all “under the sun” is “vanity”.
3. Therefore, all “toil” is “vanity”.

Upon inspection of this syllogism, we can see that it is indeed valid. But, asks Kreeft, is it sound? In other words, the conclusion necessarily follows from the premises, but are the premises true? Kreeft suggests that premise 1 is false, and I agree.

As I was reading Ecclesiastes, and kept encountering the word "toil," it occured to me that I had been struck by this word somewhere else in the Bible: “Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord.”

That's it, not all "toil" is "under the sun." There is a "toil" that is beyond the sun, it is a heavenly toil; the "toil in the Lord." It is any toil whose end or purpose is "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

How fitting that Paul would mention this at the end of 1 Corinthians 15, one of the greatest passages on the resurrection. Paul is emphatically telling Christians that life is not vanity of vanities, that there is hope, and that our hope is the resurrection. Therefore, work hard and persevere with hope, knowing that your "toil" is not "under the sun" and therefore "vanity," since it is "toil in the Lord."

It makes me think that perhaps he had Ecclesiasastes in mind when he wrote this. Thoughts?

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Wednesday, August 02, 2006

The Intolerance of Tolerance

In 1987 Professor Allan Bloom of the University of Chicago published a book entitled The Closing of the American Mind in which he argues that the so called “openness” that our culture demands is really a great closing, and it’s a closing of the mind. To be “tolerant” is really to be intolerant.

Francis Beckwith, in a lecture I heard him deliver on “The Deconstruction of Liberal Values,” sarcastically remarked that professor Bloom’s book is one of the only philosophy books that have actually sold! He said further that his wife asked him “Why don’t you write something like that?”!

In an often quoted line from the book, Bloom writes “There is one thing a professor can be absolutely certain of: almost every student entering the university believes, or says he believes, that truth is relative.”

In Al Mohler’s latest blog,here, he quotes from the London Times article on Britain’s new proposed school policy,here,

Schools would no longer be required to teach children the difference between right and wrong under plans to revise the core aims of the National Curriculum.

Instead, under a new wording that reflects a world of relative rather than absolute values, teachers would be asked to encourage pupils to develop "secure values and beliefs".


I actually enjoyed reading this beautiful rhetoric! Teachers are “asked” (no, required) to “encourage” (no, demand) that pupils be “secure” (no, absolutely sure) in their values and beliefs (so long as they value and believe in relativism). Come on! How much more intolerant can you get?

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