Possible Worlds and God

OK, so it is beyond the level of logic I know how to work with, but supposedly Alvin Plantinga has a reworking of the ontological argument for the existence of God that uses what is known as “S5” modal logic. While I don't know how to do S5, I think I understand the basic principle, which is that given an infinite number of possible worlds with all possible combinations of states existing, God must be necessary in at least one of them. And if a necessary being exists in one world, He must exist in all worlds.

The interesting thing that strikes me (though I don't know if it would work) is that it seems like the opposite must also be true: there must be at least one possible world where God does not exist (according to Plantinga's initial premise). Thus, we would end up with one possible world in which God must necessarily exist and not exist simultaneously.

There's a mind boggling thought. I tend to think using possible worlds to theorize is only questionable useful, but it is interesting.

Aquinas and the Simplicity of God

Mark asks,

With respect, and if I have the right guy, that should be Saint Thomas Aquinas. And what do you mean by God’s simplicity? From an engineering perspective, God is as complicated as it gets. Heck he created everything we hear, see and feel and it all works perfectly. There is nothing simple about that.

Note: I'm going to give the long answer first. If that bogs anyone down, you'll find my own, simpler two cents, probably much more Barthian than the top part, below.

To the first point, yes, that would be one and the same. Being a Protestant, I often favor dropping the “saint” designation, although I will use it at times (I don't reject the bestowing of sainthood on Aquinas or others so much as support the sense that all believers are saints). For some reason I find it more natural to refer to Augustine as “St. Augustine” than I do Thomas Aquinas as “St. Thomas Aquinas.” I'm not sure why, I guess because he can't just be referred to as “St. Thomas.” “St. Augustine Hippo” wouldn't be much better, so Augustine is lucky that he had a more unique name. Really, though, I think part of it is that one can have a general theological discussion without any presumptions when talking about “Thomas Aquinas,” but not even the name will be agreeable to all if you use “St. Thomas Aquinas.” Interestingly, Aquinas is often referred to as just “Thomas” in the field of theology, maybe because one comes to feel as if he is an old friend over time.

At any rate, Thomas — there I go using that reference to him — makes it his first key point in Summa Theologica about the nature of God, other than that God can be demonstrated to exist, that God is simple. This follows on St. Augustine and St. Anselm, and agrees with Angelic Doctor's friend, St. Bonaventure, although more exactly, it seems to be a doctrine whose influence stretches back to Plato. Aquinas uses this doctrine to define first and foremost what God is not (complex) and thus set the stage for the rest of his discussion on God (Aquinas is nothing of not methodical and perfectly rational — hence my quibble with Francis Shaeffer a few weeks ago).

What simple means here is that an object has no smaller parts. For instance, I am made up of many physical parts and metaphysical parts that aren't essential to humanness, they are “accidents” (unnecessary). Anything that makes me me is not necessary for me being a human, only for making me Tim Butler. Moreover, even essential parts of my humanness come merely from my “participation” in humanness and not my being “human,” full stop, for you are a human too. God, on the other hand, is necessarily as He is (unchanging and perfect) and does not participate in things such as goodness, love, mercy, etc., but rather is those things. As the Bible says, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love” (1 John 4:8).

Following the Thomistic-Aristotelean viewpoint, when I say John is good, but Susan is better and Mark is best, I am defining the characteristic of goodness based on the “benchmark” of goodness, that is, God. The emphasis here is that when I say that John is good, that means part of his nature is goodness, but when I say God is good, I mean really that God is God (or, as Barth would say, “God is freely being Himself”) — His entire nature simply is Him. God can't be less than any of those things, because when we isolate the “attributes” of God, we are really just speaking in terms humans can understand by analogy, in reality, God's attributes are all merely one divine nature.

Does that help? I can try to explain more — I'm not really doing Aquinas much justice. For anyone interested, the appropriate part of the Summa is 1.3

My Simple Two Cents: God is freely Himself so we can merely say God is God. However, when I talk about anything else in the world, I essentially spend my time defining what that thing is not. I am using a keyboard, which means I am not using a toaster. Moreover, as everything in this world is corrupt and unable to follow its own nature, we often talk in terms of what a thing is suppose to be and what it actually is. I need to be talked about in attributes, because I do not live up to the ideal of perfect humanness because of my fallen nature (so we talk in terms of defining which parts of God's nature I am suppose to be like but am not). Moreover, even if I did live up to God's plan for a human, I'd still not encompass all good things, so I'd still need to be attributed as being “human” (which really is a limiter saying which parts of God's nature I am not even suppose to be).

I think that's a fair explanation of the gist of the doctrine of divine simplicity (DDS). I'll probably post the paper I am writing on the subject, perhaps broken into smaller bits within the not too distant future.

Hmm, Am I Allowed to Do This?

Usually, if I plan to critique a major authority, I try to do so using other major authorities. Yet, in my ongoing project concerning God's simplicity, I found I fired at several of Alvin Plantinga's (only the greatest living Reformed philosopher) objections to the doctrine using just my own reason. I wonder if I really should dare to challenge Plantinga so directly? My object initially was certainly anything but clashing with Plantinga.

Of course, I do use the reasoning of Thomas Aquinas, Karl Barth and C. S. Lewis in doing so — at least indirectly — so maybe I'm OK.

Surprise, Surprise

Is this any surprise at all? Eduardo posted his results to a “which theologian are you?” quiz.

You scored as Karl Barth. The daddy of 20th Century theology. You perceive liberal theology to be a disaster and so you insist that the revelation of Christ, not human experience, should be the starting point for all theology. Anselm 100% Karl Barth 100% John Calvin 87% Paul Tillich 67% Martin Luther 60% Augustine 53% Friedrich Schleiermacher 53% Jonathan Edwards 40% J?rgen Moltmann 40% Charles Finney 20% Which theologian are you? created with QuizFarm.com

Unsurprisingly, I am most likely my friend Karl… Karl Barth, that is. Perhaps a bit more surprising to me is that St. Anselm was tied with Barth for being the most like me — it offered a tie breaker round in which I could choose between “Man's main sin is failing to give to God the obedience that we owe him” or “All Christian theology must begin with the revelation of Christ.” Given that I selected the later, I was affirmed as a true Barthian according to Quizfarm.

Beyond Anselm and Barth, I find it unsurprising that John Calvin is third on the list, given some of my clearly Calvinist/Reformed answers. It is more surprising that Tillich comes up next, although I did not completely deny the Tillichian questions; Luther and Augustine also make sense as being over fifty percent like me. I'm a bit surprised I wasn't more like Jonathan Edwards, although I did not make the hell and brimstone questions top priority among my answers, despite my agreement with them.

Which theologian are you? Post your results in the comments section.

Yoga: Physical Exercise or Religious Practice?

I originally wrote the following as my first assignment in a class based on the Academic Study of Religion, September 7, 2002. A recent discussion on Yoga made me think of this piece, and it seemed like a good time to post it online.

According to a report by the Himalayan Academy’s Hinduism Today publication, a schism has occurred between Christians and Hindus in the former Soviet Republic of Slovakia (“Slovakia”). The situation revolves around a simple question: “Is Yoga a Hindu religious practice or physical exercise?”

In this particular incident, the question arose when a variant of Swami Maheshwarananda’s “Yoga in Daily Life” program was considered for introduction into Slovakia’s school system. According to the Hinduism Today report, the plan was to offer the class to help alleviate back pain in the students. However, critics of the program have suggested the exercise is much more than a simple substitute for Tylenol.

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Missing

Well, I've been all but missing from the blogosphere, so maybe this is appropriate.

Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
Maybe someday you’ll have woke up,
And, barely conscious, you’ll say to no one:
“isn’t something missing? “

You won’t cry for my absence, I know -
You forgot me long ago.
Am I that unimportant…?
Am I so insignificant…?
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me?

Even though I’d be sacrificed,
You won’t try for me, not now.
Though I’d die to know you love me,
I’m all alone.
Isn’t someone missing me?

—Evanescence, Missing

How are y'all anyway?

Deafening Silience Follow-up

Over the past few weeks, I revised my play, Deafening Silence: the Tragedy of Private Alan Michelson in numerous ways. The most important, perhaps, was adding an interpretive essay at the end dealing with the serious theological issues it brings up. It isn't anything heavy, but considers the big issues of the play, at least in passing: the problem of evil, the verification and falsification debate and the ability (or lack thereof) to lose salvation.

From a story standpoint, I also introduced several pages of new material that helped smooth out the scenes, create what I hope is a more natural, realistic pace and so on. Couple that with improved wording, and I think the play is a lot better now than it was in early September.

How long is it? It is a featherweight if you compare it against Shakespeare's works. Compared to its inspiration work, Marlowe's Doctor Faustus, it weighs in about 14% shorter. It is about 33% shorter than Chekhov's Uncle Vanya. I'm just guessing, but I'm presuming with its size, it would take 60-90 minutes to stage, at most.

If anyone who has already received a copy would like an updated release, please let me know. Also, if anyone else is interested, just give me a holler.

A Theology of Pluralism: Out of Context

Part One in a Series on the Problems of Religious Pluralism

I am working on getting this piece published, so I decided against posting it here on this blog. I'm sorry about the inconvenience.

A Difference of Opinion in One Part

Ed asked me if I would put my Difference of Opinion: A Look at C.S. Lewis and Sigmund Freud into one long document as opposed to three separate parts (part I, part II, part III). I actually wrote this originally as one long, 12 page piece and I now present it (below) to you in that original form, subtracting the extra introductory and conclusory materials that were added to aid the reader when I turned the piece into three separate parts. I should also add that credit should be given to Dr. Armand J. Nicolai, author of the Question of God, for the idea of comparing C.S. Lewis and Sigmund Freud.

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A Difference of Opinion: Leaping to Conclusions

Part Three in a Three Part Series on C.S. Lewis and Sigmund Freud

In the first two parts (part I, part II) of this series, I considered two major issues on which C.S Lewis and Sigmund Freud differed dramatically. On the other hand, we ought not discount the similarities in the arguments of the two men. Both Freud and Lewis advocated their ideas as key to improving civilization as a whole. Freud saw the atheism as the eventual pinnacle of evolution, although he conceded that the question of whether people would truly be better without God was up in the air (61). According to Freud, in an era casting away illusion, people would enter a time when λογος or reason would become the god of civilization (it is interesting that Freud chose a name used in the Bible to reference Christ as the “name” of his new atheistic god), eliminating what he feels to be a clear illusion for something that appears not to be, namely, science.

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