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Parts two and three are entitled “Transformation” and “Covenant.” The most significant chapter in part two is Meek’s exposition of Michael Polyani’s epistemological project and its bearing upon Meek’s own project of covenant epistemology. In this chapter, Meek focuses on the idea of acts of coming to know. Here, she develops Polyani’s concept of subsidiary focal integration, which, “involves shifting from looking at puzzling and apparently unrelated particulars to relating them to them differently: relying on them, or attending through them or from them, to comprehend a deeper pattern” (69). She then goes on and gives examples of how this works in ordinary acts of knowing where we move from Point A (unrelated particulars) to point B (comprehending the pattern). Having made this transition, these clues now become subsidiary for future acts of knowing. Perhaps one of the most interesting parts of this chapter is Meek’s discussion of correspondence versus contact with reality. Meek argues that when we reach point B in an act of knowing, we “contact” reality rather than our act of knowing corresponding to reality: “And, far from the integration having so exhausted the known that nothing remains to intrigue us, we find ourselves beckoned farther beyond ourselves to future possibilities” (75). Essentially, for a thought to correspond with reality means that our thought not only matches reality, but exhausts it in its entirety. On the other hand, for a thought to contact reality means that we have accessed it but have not mirrored and exhausted it. While not mentioned in the book, one wonders if the Clark-Van Til controversy is in the background at this point, since their controversy centered around whether our knowledge and God’s knowledge is univocal (Clark) or analogical (Van Til). Here, Meek seems to be saying that our knowledge is analogical in that it does not exhaust reality but rather pushes us and beckons us further into the dark night of the unknown: “…when the discovery is achieved, it is more as if it explodes, rather than explains, the knower’s questions” (97). To use my own analogy at this point, Meek seems to be saying that our knowledge is like peeling an onion. There are layers and layers that we continue to discover and gives us a greater understanding than the previous layer. This discussion of correspondence versus contact should be a helpful and fruitful for future discussion. The rest of the chapter focuses on Meek’s use of John Frame’s epistemology called tri-perspectivalism. She weaves Frames insights into covenant epistemology along with Polyani’s insights, which leads to this helpful formulation: “Thus, ordinary acts of knowing display the dynamics of subsidiary-focal integration, three interlocking sectors of clues, and the knower’s unfolding triangulation among them” (82). Part three, entitled “Covenant,” contains two chapters where Meek interacts with the work of John Frame and Mike Williams. In the chapter on Frame, Meek continues to develop Frame’s tri-perspectivalism (the normative, existential, and situational). One of the key insights that Meek takes from Frame’s perspectivalism is the normative aspect of knowing and its bearing upon the covenantally-constituted relationship. Frame is well-known for making epistemology a subset of ethics, since epistemology contains normative questions such as “What ought I to believe?” The next chapter focuses on Mike Williams’ book Far as the Curse is Found. One of the key themes in Williams’ work is the unfolding redemptive story of Scripture and its covenantal bearing upon the people of God. Here the ultimate goal is friendship with God, which is rooted in the creation story of Genesis 1-2. Thus, the covenant involves norms, law, and stipulations, coupled with friendship and relationship. The next part looks at Meek’s section on the interpersonal. |
What Hath Silicone Valley to Do With Athens?
Much in every way.
For example, object-oriented programming (OOP) languages such as C++, VB/C#.NET, and Java presuppose (at least conceptually) certain metaphysical assumptions, namely, realism, in order for the programming language to even work. Two examples give evidence to this.
First, realism posits that that most generic genus is “being.” Everything that exists has “being,” or in other words, can most generically be described as having “being.” In programming languages such as VB/C#.NET and Java, the genus “being” corresponds to the class “Object,” from which every class inherits/is derived. For example, the String class is derived from the Object class. Every String is an Object but not every Object is a String. No matter how detailed a class is and no matter how many parents a class inherits from (e.g. Animal–>Dog–>Golden Retriever), it always can be most generically described as an Object.
Second, realism posits that universals are immaterial, abstract entities which can be instanced/exemplified by many particulars at the same time. In OOP, one creates “classes” (universals) that are then instanced as particular copies of the class. So, if you have a String object, you are not accessing the String object itself but an instance/copy of the String object, such as:
String particular = new String();
Dim particular As New String()
Of course, the analogy eventually breaks down because there is disagreement within metaphysical realism concerning the relationship between universals and particulars, with the “copying” of a universal being one among many views.
That being said, it seems that OOP at least has to presuppose (conceptually) some sort of metaphysical realism within the “world” of software development. In other words, OOP could not even get off the ground if it were to start with a conceptual idea of nominalism. For, how can you instance a class if there is no class to instance?
Book Review: Loving to Know (Part 3)
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Chapters two and three conclude Part one entitled “On the Way.” In chapter two, Meek briefly offers three “preliminary conversations” with Annie Dillard, Lesslie Newbigin, and Parker Palmer, and from these brief conversations draws a proposal for what CE entails: it is covenantal and personal as we pledge ourselves as knowers to the known, rather than the enterprise of knowing being an impersonal, third person description of the known. Meek writes, “We move from third to second person, from objectifying, informational pronouncements to person-to-person conversation that asks, listens, and receives discovery as grace” (40). Thus, “the tenor of true knowing is love, interpersonal resonance, interpenetration, rather than impersonal description” (42). With CE forming the paradigm for all knowing as the interpersonal, covenantally constituted relationship, Meek seeks to develop Michael Polanyi’s epistemological work by seeing knowing as being full of hints and clues of the “interpersoned” (45). In chapter three, Meek lays out what she thinks some of the benefits CE offers for three groups: ordinary knowers (which we all are), professional philosophers, and Christian scholarship. For ordinary knowers, CE seeks to infuse the various dimensions of knowing that are usually excluded by the “default mode” of knowing (50). For professional philosophers, CE offers a fresh line of inquiry. With the unusual proposal of a coherence theory of justification (rather than foundationalism) and a correspondence theory of truth, CE seeks to offer a “third way” rather than the dichotomies of foundationalism vs. coherentism and realism vs. anti-realism (51-54). Further, CE makes the knower central in the act of knowing (55). For Christian scholarship, Meek lays out the various philosophical camps one may find in Christian scholarship (Talbot school of modest foundationalism and evidentialism, the Dutch “Amsterdam” philosophy [e.g. Dooyeweerd], Van Tillianism and presuppositional apologetics, Reformed Epistemology, Postmodernism/Post Radical Thought/Radical Orthodoxy, Biblical theology, and Catholic philosophy), and gleaning from these various camps, she positions CE as follows: “It is non-foundationalst but realist; presuppositional but emphasizing what is known as common grace rather than antithesis; it does philosophy without ascendancy, emphasizing centrally, but in a philosophically attuned way, the unfolding drama of Scriptures, positively showing how Scripture and the knower’s relationship to God is central to knowing” (61). Meek concludes this chapter by stating that CE benefits all Christian believers because it emphasizes knowing as transformation more so than information (63). |
Book Review: Loving to Know (Part 2)
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For a limited time, Wipf & Stock is offering Loving to Know at a special offer of 40% off the retail price. Just use the coupon code: L2KCP
Chapter 1 is entitled “The Need for Epistemological Therapy.” In this chapter Meek puts forward the strong thesis that our “default mode” of knowing is inherently defective. This default mode operates “under the skin” in the sense that we often operate in this default mode of knowing without realizing it. But the purpose of L2k is not to uproot and remove these underlying, tacit assumptions, but rather, “to reform them, and then indwell them with intentionality and virtuosity” (6). Meek points the finger of blame at the Western tradition of ideas and culture as the source of this defective, default mode of knowing (Ibid.). This default mode “goes against the grain of our humanness,” and is a “distortion that leads us to think that knowing is something other than it is” (7). Strong statements, indeed. When it comes to our default mode of knowing, we tend to think of knowledge as information, facts, statements, and proofs. We think that “knowledge consists exclusively of statements, pieces of information, and facts” (Ibid., emphasis original). Now, with Meek using the emphasized phrase “exclusively,” it seems that Meek may be “stacking the deck” in her favor against the Western tradition of knowledge by making it an easy target for critique, for a universally quantified statement (All S is P) is always a bold and strong claim and easier to defeat than an existentially quantified statement (Some S is P). Though many hold this view concerning knowledge, whether (1) this view accurately reflects western philosophy and (2) western philosophy is to blame, is another question. Meek continues on by listing the typical dichotomous “binary oppositions” this default mode entails: reason vs. faith, fact vs. value, knowledge vs. belief, public vs. private, science vs. art, objective vs. subjective, appearance vs. reality, male vs. female, mind vs. body, etc (8-11). For readers who are familiar with the work of Nancy Pearcey (Total Truth and Saving Leonardo), Meek is taking aim at the modernist “lower story” of truth. While the reader may not agree with every dichotomy Meek sets up (as she later acknowledges [12]), many of these dichotomies accurately describe the “lower story” (e.g. fact vs. value). What is of interest is that Meek also takes aim at Christians who espouse a “specific, powerful, version of the dichotomy. There is ‘absolute’ truth or there is no truth. Absolute truth consists of a complete set of propositions about everything. ‘Absolute’ truth’s only alternative is relativism, subjectivism, and skepticism” (11, emphasis mine). Again, perhaps Meek is stacking the deck again by using universally quantified statements to describe her opponent’s position. What is her complaint with absolute truth? Does absolute truth seem to eliminate the knower (Meek notes in footnote 8 what she thinks is a better alternative to the two extremes which, in her estimation, are logically problematic and defective: “I responsibly profess truth with universal intent.”)? Is it with the descriptions “complete” and “everything?” She does not tell us at this point, except that the dichotomy of absolute vs. relative truth is a symptom of our defective, default mode of knowing. (Although one has to wonder if she is presupposing absolute truth to make absolute claims against absolute truth!?). Meek continues on and helpfully talks about the need for the knower to be involved in the process of knowing, something that Enlightenment rationalism sought to destroy. The rest of the chapter revolves around the discussion of the key diagnoses of our defective default mode: the Greek antithesis of form vs. matter, Cartesian dualism and the quest for pure, epistemic certainty, objectivism (removing the subject from the act of knowing), the use of the ocular metaphor (instead of bodily touch), and substantivalism (Aristotle’s “Man is a rational animal”). Again, some reasons may be more convincing to the reader than others (e.g. Why is there no mention of degrees of certainty rather than focusing on absolute certainty? Is this “stacking the deck” again?). As an aside, one thing to mention under the section on substantivalism is that Meek commits the fallacy of equivocation when she uses Aristotle’s dictum to show that substantivalism favors men over women (a dichotomy she mentioned earlier in the chapter that she argues is often found in the default mode). Meek writes, “A substantival understanding of being, or substance ontology, would be one [such as] ‘Man is a rational animal”…So a man is an animal whose distinguishing attribute is that he is rational [footnote 30: The gender specificity of this comment is deliberate.] (26). But notice that she shifts the meaning of “man” from a collective singular denoting humanity (i.e. man/human kind) to man as opposed to female. The former includes females (since females are a part of humanity) while the latter meaning is opposite of females. Was Aristotle asserting that men are rational but women are irrational or has Meek equivocated on the term “man” in order to try to make the point that Western thought has favored men over women? One only need to look at Psalm 8 to see the fallacy of this equivocation: “What is man that you are mindful of him? Or the son of man that you care for him?” If one were to follow Meek’s reasoning, one would have to say that God is only mindful and caring towards males but not females. But that is hardly the sense of what “man” means in Psalm 8! The same goes with Aristotle’s dictum. Following chapter 1, Texture 1 contains a brief meditation on rekindling the longing to know. Meek provides some great insights on fanning the longing to know into flame (e.g. We should focus not so much on what we know but what we long to know). Overall, Meek provides many good insights and criticisms of the default mode of knowing in chapter 1, though one may not agree with all of the claims she puts forth. Certainly some of the more stronger criticisms (e.g. absolute vs. relative truth) will be explained in further detail throughout the book and so the reader will need to see whether these explanations hold or not. |
Book Review: Loving to Know (Part 1)
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For a limited time, Wipf & Stock is offering Loving to Know at a special offer of 40% off the retail price. Just use the coupon code: L2KCP
Meek, Esther Lightcap. Loving to Know. Eugene, OR: Cascade Books. 2011. 518 pages, paperback.* Loving to Know (hereafter called L2K) is the long-awaited and promised follow-up mentioned in a footnote found in Meek’s Longing to Know (Brazos Press, 2003). In L2K Meek seeks to develop what she has termed “Covenant Epistemology” (hereafter called CE), a paradigm that sees every act of knowing as the “unfolding, covenantally constituted, interpersonal relationship” (xiv). The book, in keeping with the thesis of CE, is a rich and diverse tapestry woven throughout with multiple “successive conversations” and “textures” (excursuses). The “successive conversations” that shape the structure of the book capture the essence of CE: “being on the way” to knowing with friends, which leads to a transformative interpersoned, face-to-face encounter and communion (xv, xvii). In keeping with the vision of CE as “being on the way” to knowing, which can be likened to to being on a journey with friends, I will be working through and reviewing each chapter of L2K over the coming weeks, rather than reviewing the entire book in one sitting. *Review copy provided by Cascade Books, An Imprint of Wipf & Stock Publishers |
Numbers: Human Constructions?
An excellent post by Maverick Philosopher.
Delight and Disgust: The Inescapable Beginning and the Inescapable End (Descartes vs. Sartre)
I have previously written of the contrast between Descartes’s and Augustine’s understanding of the dictum cogito ergo sum.
Let us look at this dictum again from another angle: Descartes (with respect to knowledge) vs. Sartre (with respect to existence).
For Descartes, cogito ergo sum was the inescapable beginning of his quest to establish a foundation of epistemic certainty. Imagine the delight on the face of Descartes when he uttered those words! From this foundational truth, Descartes went on to establish his system of knowledge.
For Sartre and his existentialism, as expressed by the main character Antoine Roquentin in the novel Nausea, cogito ergo sum was the inescapable end that prevented non-existence. Rather than delight, this truth brought utter disgust. Sartre writes,
If I could keep myself from thinking!…I think I don’t want to think. I mustn’t think that I don’t want to think. Because that’s still a thought. Will there never be an end to it? My thought is me: that’s why I can’t stop. I exist because I think…and I can’t stop myself from thinking. At this very moment–it’s frightful–if I exist, it is because I am horrified at existing. I am the one who pulls myself from the nothingness to which I aspire: the hatred, the disgust of existing, there are as many ways to make myself exist, to thrust myself into existence (99-100).
For Descartes, cogito ergo sum is the hopeful beginning.
For Sartre, cogito ergo sum is the dreadful dead end.
Book Review: Doing Philosophy as a Christian

DeWeese, Garrett J. Doing Philosophy as a Christian. Downers Grove: IVP Academic. 2011. 320 pages, paperback.*
Doing Philosophy as a Christian (hereafter called DPC) is the latest addition to the Christian Worldview Integration Series, edited by J.P. Moreland and Francis J. Beckwith. In DPC, Garrett J. DeWeese, professor of philosophy and philosophical theology at Talbot School of Theology, puts forward the claim that “there is a difference in the way Christians do, or should do, philosophy” (36). Thus, the purpose of this book, in keeping with the series’s theme of Christian worldview integration, is to show the reader how one’s Christian faith and worldview informs one’s philosophical endeavors. (The book is not an introduction to philosophy from a Christian perspective, nor a book about the Christian mind, nor about apologetics.)
Now DeWeese is quick to acknowledge up front that he is showing a way, not the only way, one goes about integrating one’s Christian faith with the big questions of philosophy, especially since there are a variety of views Christians hold on just about every key topic in philosophy (as is quickly made evident in the various chapters!). There is certainly a presence of humility in DeWeese’s approach that can be discerned from beginning to end. The often repeated phrase used by DeWeese in the book, “By my lights…,” emphasizes that he is giving his opinion on the matter from his study of the Scriptures personally and within the broader tradition of church teaching, but is open to other alternatives (in some cases more than others). So, there is a definite charitableness throughout the book, though he certainly does not hesitate to disagree and give reasons for his disagreement, even with fellow colleagues such as Bill Craig.
DeWeese begins the book with a chapter on wisdom, a theme found in both the Old and New Testament. DeWeese’s approach is unique in that he spends considerable time unpacking the meaning of the Hebrew word hokhmah and its implications for life (wisdom is the intensely practical art of being skillful and successful in life). The Greek equivalent term for wisdom, sophia, originally had the same aim among the writers of the New Testament and early Greek philosophers, but the reality is, much of what is found in the history of Western philosophy is akin more to the Sophists in Plato’s day than to the intensely practical aim of philosophy (“the love of wisdom”). Often times philosophical discussions seem pedantic and pointless, with little focus on the practical cash value of its implications. Here DeWeese seeks to re-orient the aim of philosophy back to loving God and serving the Christian community in one’s philosophical endeavors. This means asking oneself questions such as, “Does this question or problem merit the time and effort to pursue researching it?” (63). DeWeese also offers some practical suggestions on how to cultivate a Christian community of philosophers.
In chapter two, DeWeese follows in the steps of Nicholas Wolsterstorff and argues that Christian philosophy “should be philosophy done within the limits of religion” (66). In other words, Christian theology, built upon the authority of the Scriptures, provides the constraints for one’s endeavors with the purpose of personal transformation and kingdom advancement (67). The remainder of the chapter gives a nice overview of the faith/reason debate.
After spending a chapter on Jesus and philosophy and the ways in which Jesus can be considered a philosopher, the main section of the book focuses on the key questions of philosophy: metaphysics, epistemology, value theory (he focuses on aesthetics and ethics), philosophy of mind, and philosophy of science. None of the chapters are long enough to develop extended argumentation; rather, each chapter essentially gives a quick thumbnail sketch of the variegated views on the topic (both Christian and non-Christian) and the view that he thinks best comports with Scripture, with a couple of brief reasons/arguments why. Of course, because he is presenting a way of approaching and answering these questions, the reader will not agree on every position he takes (and DeWeese expects that!), but perhaps that is the beauty of what a community of Christian philosophy could look like: iron sharpening iron as we submit ourselves under the authority of God’s word and interact lovingly and charitably with one another?
The final chapter ends talking about the goal of philosophy: spiritual transformation, and he gives a quick overview of the Biblical narrative and sanctification in the Christian life.
Now for a couple of brief criticisms of the book.
- DeWeese emphasizes up front that this book is not an introduction to the topics in philosophy from a Christian perspective. That being the case, I still had a difficult time demarcating the difference between what DeWeese is trying to do in his book in comparison to what one would find in Moreland and Craig’s Philosophical Foundations for a Christian Worldview or Cowan and Spiegel’s The Love of Wisdom. Obviously Moreland/Craig and Cowan/Spiegel are more detailed in their scope and analysis of the various topics, but their aim is often to show what views best comport with Christianity (e.g. substance dualism). So I often struggled discerning how DeWeese was not simply giving an introduction to some of the main topics in philosophy from a Christian perspective (albeit in a quick, thumbnail sketch) just like one would find in the other two books mentioned.
- DeWeese helpfully provides examples of how various philosophical views cash out with practical implications, but I wondered if he could have emphasized those more throughout the book, since this book is a part of the Christian Worldview Integration Series? Again, this is related to the previous observation just noted.
- The chapter on value theory was too imbalanced, since only four pages (of about forty) were set aside to discuss aesthetics and beauty. He probably could have done without touching on aesthetics and beauty (although I think it is an important topic!), because not much was developed.
Overall, DPC is a good book that would be beneficial for philosophy students and aspiring professional philosophers concerning how a Christian should approach the field. Because of my criticisms mentioned above, I believe Parts 1 and 3 will be the most helpful, but the chapters found in Part 2 (the main thrust of the book, however) do not seem all that different (albeit the chapters being a quick “fly-by” of the key positions) from what one could find in Moreland/Craig or Cowan/Spiegel. I would point the reader in that direction for a more in-depth discussion since those books seek to give both an introduction to the matters as well as their take on how Christian theology should inform our views on those matters.
*Review copy provided by Intervarsity Press
Book Review: Christian Apologetics: A Comprehensive Case for Biblical Faith
Groothuis, Douglas. Christian Apologetics: A Comprehensive Case for Biblical Faith. Downers Grove: IVP Academic. 2011. 752 pp, hb.*
Christian Apologetics: A Comprehensive Case for Biblical Faith (hereafter referred to as CA), written by Douglas Groothuis, Professor of Philosophy at Denver Seminary, is the latest work to enter a well-saturated arena of apologetics textbooks, weighing in at an impressive 752 pages. While apologetics textbooks range anywhere from the good to the bad and to the ugly, CA does not disappoint; it is the most comprehensive “one-stop-shop” apologetic work ever to hit the market.
While apologetics books can be a mile wide in scope but an inch deep in argumentation, CA is impressive in that it exudes both breadth (topics ranging from apologetic methodologies, truth, the ontological argument, the claims of Jesus, Islam, etc.) and depth (interactions with a variety of authors and sources, Christian and non-Christian; avoiding straw-man argumention, etc.). CA is divided into three parts: Apologetic Preliminaries, The Case for Christian Theism, and Objections to Christian Theism. The Case for Christian Theism is certainly the heart and “meat” of the book, taking up over half the length of the book (~400 pages), while Objections to Christian Theism compromises the remaining 80 or so pages of the book (in some ways it feels more like an afterthought or as if the book ran out of steam, or most likely, out the publisher’s page limit [in fact, Groothuis does mention up front in the acknowledgements that this book doubled in size from the publisher’s original estimation!]).
Part 1: Apologetic Preliminaries addresses many of the “meta” questions and issues of apologetics that you will find in other apologetics books: the meaning of the word “apologetics,” the Biblical basis for apologetics (e.g. Paul’s apologetic encounter in Acts 17), and apologetic methodologies (fideism, presuppositionalism, Reformed epistemology, and evidentialism). But what sets apart CA is the presence of additional questions and issues that Groothuis tackles in this section: the Christian worldview, distortions of/straw man arguments against the Christian worldview, truth, postmodernism, and faith, risk, and rationality (i.e. Pascal’s wager). Concerning how one defines Christian apologetics, Groothuis takes his cue from Pascal’s Penseés (indeed it would not be too much to say that Pascal’s fingerprints of influence can be found all over the book, which I find as one of the strengths and unique qualities of this book!) and provides an insightful definition: “Christian apologetics is the rational defense of the Christian worldview as objectively true, rationally compelling, and existentially or subjectively engaging” (24). These three prongs summarize the thrust of what Groothuis will do in the remainder of Part 1 and all of Parts 2 and 3 of CA.
Part 2: The Case for Christian Theism is impressive by the range of arguments, broken down into arguments from natural theology and the uniqueness of humanity, Groothuis employs as a cumulative case for the truth of Christian theism. Rather than interact with each chapter or give a summary of the arguments, I will simply list the arguments Groothuis gives to whet the appetite of the reader:
- The Ontological Argument
- Cosmological Arguments
- The Design Argument
- Arguments Against Darwinism
- Evidence for Intelligent Design (ID)
- The Moral Argument
- The Argument from Religious Experience
- The Uniqueness of Humanity (Consciousness and Cognition)
- Deposed Royalty (An abductive argument Groothuis develops from Pascal concerning man’s greatness and wretchedness)
- Various chapters on the person and work Jesus (history, claims, miracles, incarnation, resurrection, etc., with a contribution by colleague Craig Blomberg on one chapter).
Groothuis sets aside roughly 30 pages or so for each argument, avoiding caricature and gloss. Obviously many books have been dedicated to a particular argument found in Part 2 (e.g. the ontological argument), so these chapters should be seen more as a good overview/introduction/summary of the talking points of each argument rather than being exhaustive, detailed, and the final word on the matter (Groothuis helpfully points the reader to those sources in his footnotes).
Part 3: Objections to Christian Theism and the two appendices briefly interact with religious pluralism, a pervasive reality in the U.S., Islam, the problem of evil, hell (appendix 1), and apologetics issues in the OT (appendix 2, written by Richard Hess). As mentioned earlier, part 3 seems to receive the “short end of the stick,” consisting of ~80 pages + ~20 pages from the two appendices, though it is helpful in that few apologetics books focus on topics such as Islam.
Criticisms
Of course not every reader will endorse or agree with everything Groothuis has to say, but that should be expected in a massive work such as CA. I will give you three examples from Part 1 where I found myself in disagreement with Groothuis.
Presuppositionalism
I was particularly interested in seeing how Groothuis interacted with presuppositionalism in his chapter on apologetic methodologies (since that is my apologetic methodological conviction), but was disappointed to see that the brief section given to providing an overview/critique of presuppositionalism (pages 62-63) contained typical caricatures against the position, especially since Groothuis makes many statements that he does not back up with sources. Here are a couple of examples.
Groothuis alleges that presuppositionalism “limits positive apologetics to showing the logical coherence of Christian doctrine and relies on negative apologetics to refute non-Christian perspectivies…Moreover, the presuppositionalists use logic extensively in their tearing down of non-Christian worldviews (negative apologetics). Why, then, they forbid its use to build up a positive case for Christianity is unclear.” This is a typical critique of presuppositionalism that it is “against” or “anti” evidence. But that could not be further from the truth. Presuppositionalism takes issue, not with the facts (i.e. evidences), but with the philosophy of the facts. For example, see Van Til’s Christian Theistic Evidences or Thom Notaro’s Van Til & The Use of Evidence.
Groothuis alleges that presuppostionalism entails that “We cannot find sufficient [note: The word “sufficient” is ambiguous here as to whether he means sufficient as in quantity (i.e. “enough” common ground) or as in logicality] common ground with unbelievers to build successful arguments for Christianity based on reason and evidence.” Groothuis takes issue with presuppositionalism’s stance with respect to antithesis and common ground, but he misses the nuance presuppositionalism provides by distinguishing between ethical and metaphysical antithesis (see the discussion in Cornelius Van Til, The Defense of the Faith, 287). (Presuppositionalism affirms the former but denies the latter.). Groothuis collapses this distinction and seems to treat presuppositionalism as if it were advocating a metaphysical antithesis. But let’s hear what Cornelius Van Til, the father of presuppositionalism, says, “With Calvin I find the point of contact for the presentation of the Gospel to non-Christians in the fact that they are made in the image of God and as such have the ineradicable sense of deity within them” (Cornelius Van Til, The Defense of the Faith, 255). So clearly, presuppositionalism affirms that our common ground with unbelievers is found in being made in the image of God, but we reject common ground in the ethical sense that we can present evidence to non-Christians as if they were neutral or as if they could assess the evidence in a neutral matter.
Groothuis alleges that “Presuppositionalists critique the arguments of classical apologetics as both logically defective and theologically improper.” But hear again what Van Til has to say, “Accordingly I do not reject ’the theistic proofs’ but merely insist on formulating them in such a way as not to compromise the doctrines of Scripture” (Cornelius Van Til, The Defense of the Faith, 255).
Much more critique could be given of other statements made by Groothuis in this brief section (e.g. the claim that Van Til said that we cannot impose logic on God [footnote?]. Read here for the answer to that misconception.), but these will suffice to show the point that this section suffers from caricature and lack of footnotes to back up many of these claims (indeed, some of these claims are footnoted from what opponents, not proponents, have said about presuppositionalism!).
Methodology
On the tail of my first issue I take with section 1, I also take issue with Groothuis’s justification for the hypothesis evaluation and verification approach by offering a cumulative case rather than from a presupposition of its truth. He writes, “Some might balk at regarding [the] Christian faith as a hypothesis…to some, Christianity as a hypothesis sounds to tentative, clinical, and academic…When we are commending the Christian worldview, we cannot transfer our own attitude toward that worldview to those who do not share it” (49). But it seems that the argument boils down to this: Because non-Christians do not believe/presuppose the truth of Christianity, neither should we when we are talking with them. But this is hardly an argument and when we look at, for example, Paul’s engagement of the Athenians in Acts 17, Paul is doing more than offering a hypothesis evaluation, he is presupposing and arguing for the truth of the Christian message (see an excellent exposition of this passage from a presuppositional standpoint in the chapters “The Encounter of Jerusalem with Athens” in Always Ready, 235-276 and “Resurrection, Proof, and Presuppositionalism: Acts 17:30-31” in Revelation and Reason, 41-58, as well as Van Til’s Paul at Athens).
Trinity and Gender
Another issue I take in section 1 is an odd statement Groothuis makes in the section “Is Christianity Sexist?” in his chapter answering misconceptions about the Christian faith. In discussing the question of male language about God, Groothuis writes, “God is not a sexual being…God is not to be represented as either a male or a female…Scripture refers to God as ‘he’ and Jesus called God his Father not to emphasize masculinity against femininity but to highlight that God is a personal and powerful being” (106). But the question is: is God, the first person of the Trinity, really Jesus’s father (not in an earthly or physical, but in the ontological sense [see Westminster Larger Catechism Q. 10]) or was Jesus just using the term “father” to emphasize that God is personal? If so, could not have Jesus just as easily have said, “Our mother” in the Lord’s Prayer? When Jesus called God “Father” in Matthew 6, was there any correspondence between His speech act and reality (something Groothuis takes pains to argue for in chapters 6 and 7) or do we fall into Trinitarian nominalism? Perhaps I have misread/over-read what Groothuis has said here but the statement struck me as odd.
So these are a couple of examples of issues I take with a book but let that not take away from the value of this book. Groothuis has given the church a wonderful gift composed of the fruit of over 30 years of thinking through these matters. Of course, as Groothuis acknowledges in the conclusion, this book is not the end-all-be-all.
But the sum of the matter is this: if you are looking for one apologetic work that covers apologetic preliminaries, arguments, and objections with both breadth and depth, CA towers above the rest. CA will be a wonderful reference and resource for any Christian who heeds the call to “contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3).
*Review copy provided by Intervarsity Press
A Golden Rule for Deconstructionists
Read others as you would have them read you.
An author’s intended meaning does not limit the meanings of any given text. There are as many meanings as there are readers, and no reader is more justified in his or her interpretation than any other. Whether the deconstructionists themselves want to be read in this way is another matter (Douglas Groothius, Truth Decay: Defending Christianity Against the Challenges of Postmodernism, 30).
