The readings and videos for E-learning and online culture MOOC (EDCMOOC) om post-humanism gelled nicely with the past couple of weeks in the Intro to Philosophy MOOC where we've been looking at epistemology and radical scepticism and then brains, minds and computers.
Ever since the decline of the view of humans as the imago Dei, the image of God, we've been struggling to see what defines us. Of course some of us still hold to this view, but nonetheless want to take seriously the complexities of culture, comparative biology, the effects of technology and so on.
Rene Descartes asked us to believe in dualism. Simply put, reductionism, the view that the explanatory arrow always points downwards, led to the idea that everything was just meat - we were meat. Not being able to tolerate this I suspect from as much the phenomenological point of view, let alone the theological statement of humans as imago Dei (image of God), posited dualism. Since dualism is widely rejected in philosophy, identity theory identifies mind states with physical states (either tokens - each mind state is identified with a brain state or types, each type of physical mental state is identified with types of physical states). This view is considered too simple by Hilary Putnam, suggesting it is too anthropocentric. Evolutionary convergence shows intelligence and consciousness (of sorts) has arisen in different mental architecture several times, and so platform independence of things like pain (i.e. different animals and potential aliens) feel pain but using different brains suggests that a functional view of mind is more useful.
The point of all of this? What does it mean to be human? Apart from God, it can be hard to pin down. Is humanity plastic because drugs can alter personality? Can we find drugs that not only enhance us physically, but morally as well? Nietzsche declared God is dead, postmodernism declared the author as dead; has neuroscience killed the human?
And now posthumanism? Given homo sapiens is the thinking ape (if thought it not an illusion) and a tool using ape (ok granted the Gombi chimps, we still do so to a much greater degree), haven't we always augmented our reality with speaks, axes, clothes, shelters, and then writing, art, mechanization, modern medicine and finally computing. So in all of this - is our humanity advanced (if it exists) or is it perverted?
From the outset I want to assert that I believe in the imago Dei in humans, and therefore hold onto what some would call a pre-modern view of humans. I also see this as a functional ontology, and hence it is less about how we are human but what we are human for - and this is relationship to God, each other and to the created world around us. So if technology draws us away from God, it does not enhance what it means to be human. If it seeks to make us Godlike - quite apart from what I perceive of the blasphemy of such an assertion (tower of Babel anyone?), it is the ultimate act of hubris if not delusion (singularity delusions). If it doesn't draw people together (hence the week 3 articles for EDCMOOC on the human touch) then it subtracts from what it means to be human. And if it replaces (rather than providing a degree of protection such as housing, clothes and good meteorological science and technology does) our contact with nature/creation, it takes away from what it means to be human. There is already research to show that cutting down trees is bad for our health.
So genuinely posthuman technology means just that as we will be less than human, beyond all that we value. Technology in of itself doesn't do that - but somethings come with an ontology that steers us in that direction.
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Monday, February 18, 2013
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Reflecting upon theological differences
The divine elephant?
You may have heard the old analogy for religious variety - the parable of the blind men and the elephant. Humans are described as blind men search for religious truth. The divine is an elephant, and the differing religious views are the result of feeling different parts of the elephant without the ability to perceive the whole: the one who feels the tail perceives God as a snake, the one who feels the elephant's leg perceives God as a tree trunk, and so on.
The illustration is useful in that our blindness well models our epistemological ignorance: how does one really fully know and describe God? However, it also has limits. It seems to suggest that all religious knowledge is empirical and ignores the role of revelation, i.e. the idea that God is able and maybe even willing to reveal information about Godself that could not be inferred or reasoned to. It also sees the distinctive ideas in different religions as optional extras, things to be cast aside in favour of the a priori theory of the elephant. Neither of these is logically necessary.
The divine elephant is a universalist idea, that all religions say essentially the same thing. The opposite view is an exclusivist one, where only one religion contains "the truth". For example, Jesus' "I am the way, the truth and the life, no one comes to the Father by through me" would seem to suggest this - and exclucivism doesn't appear to be uniquely Christian. This is somewhat modified it seems to me by texts like Acts 17, where Paul at least could acknowledge the religiousity of the Athenians points towards God - so religious truth can be found in echo or shadow in some thinking without being clear of salvific.
One vista, many windows
Given I'm a Christian, I obviously lean towards Christianity containing the largest and most complete deposit of truth about divine revelation - nicely captured in the first chapter of Hebrews
God, after He spoke long ago to the fathers in the prophets in many portions and in many ways, in these last days has spoken to us in His Son, whom He appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the world. And He is the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature, and upholds all things by the word of His power.
So why then if the truth is revealed so clearly in Christianity is there so much variety in Christian doctrine? Perhaps more for my purposes here, how do I order what is true and understand it? For some, Christian truth is a bounded set, i.e. whatever lies inside of their circle of belief is orthodox and defines a real Christian, or at least who is the good guys. A centre bounded set is my preferred view; there are some key ideas (like the divine nature of Christ, his atoning death and resurrection, the Trinity, etc) and it is holding onto these that is key. There can be a lot of things on the periphery that we disagree on that doesn't disqualify us from fellowship, cooperation in ministry and so on. So for example I attend a church when those on staff are Calvinist but I am Arminian. We both agree God is sovereign but would disagree on how that sovereignty is exercised. And here is how I view these theological differences.
Imagine a quadrangle, an enclosed space encircled by many offices. There are trees, statues and a fountain in this quadrangle. Each different Christian tradition represents an office with a window view out onto this quadrangle. Some are high up, some are right down at ground level. All see the same scene but from different angles, and none of them see the entire view as one might from above. Some views don't show much of the quadrangle whereas some make more sense of the various features.
When I read a particular writer I don't agree with, we see the same scene from different angles. We might describe some of the main features but might not describe them in the same way, indeed in some cases one person's description might be unrecognisable to me. Other writers may describe a view that makes a lot more sense of the quadrangle than others and be more helpful to read.
This understanding allows me to read and listen to a variety of writers and still get some value out of them. To me, it is sometimes more important to focus on similarities even if I feel bound to argue over the differences. After all, we all live in the same building.
You may have heard the old analogy for religious variety - the parable of the blind men and the elephant. Humans are described as blind men search for religious truth. The divine is an elephant, and the differing religious views are the result of feeling different parts of the elephant without the ability to perceive the whole: the one who feels the tail perceives God as a snake, the one who feels the elephant's leg perceives God as a tree trunk, and so on.
The illustration is useful in that our blindness well models our epistemological ignorance: how does one really fully know and describe God? However, it also has limits. It seems to suggest that all religious knowledge is empirical and ignores the role of revelation, i.e. the idea that God is able and maybe even willing to reveal information about Godself that could not be inferred or reasoned to. It also sees the distinctive ideas in different religions as optional extras, things to be cast aside in favour of the a priori theory of the elephant. Neither of these is logically necessary.
The divine elephant is a universalist idea, that all religions say essentially the same thing. The opposite view is an exclusivist one, where only one religion contains "the truth". For example, Jesus' "I am the way, the truth and the life, no one comes to the Father by through me" would seem to suggest this - and exclucivism doesn't appear to be uniquely Christian. This is somewhat modified it seems to me by texts like Acts 17, where Paul at least could acknowledge the religiousity of the Athenians points towards God - so religious truth can be found in echo or shadow in some thinking without being clear of salvific.
One vista, many windows
Given I'm a Christian, I obviously lean towards Christianity containing the largest and most complete deposit of truth about divine revelation - nicely captured in the first chapter of Hebrews
God, after He spoke long ago to the fathers in the prophets in many portions and in many ways, in these last days has spoken to us in His Son, whom He appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the world. And He is the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature, and upholds all things by the word of His power.
So why then if the truth is revealed so clearly in Christianity is there so much variety in Christian doctrine? Perhaps more for my purposes here, how do I order what is true and understand it? For some, Christian truth is a bounded set, i.e. whatever lies inside of their circle of belief is orthodox and defines a real Christian, or at least who is the good guys. A centre bounded set is my preferred view; there are some key ideas (like the divine nature of Christ, his atoning death and resurrection, the Trinity, etc) and it is holding onto these that is key. There can be a lot of things on the periphery that we disagree on that doesn't disqualify us from fellowship, cooperation in ministry and so on. So for example I attend a church when those on staff are Calvinist but I am Arminian. We both agree God is sovereign but would disagree on how that sovereignty is exercised. And here is how I view these theological differences.
Imagine a quadrangle, an enclosed space encircled by many offices. There are trees, statues and a fountain in this quadrangle. Each different Christian tradition represents an office with a window view out onto this quadrangle. Some are high up, some are right down at ground level. All see the same scene but from different angles, and none of them see the entire view as one might from above. Some views don't show much of the quadrangle whereas some make more sense of the various features.
When I read a particular writer I don't agree with, we see the same scene from different angles. We might describe some of the main features but might not describe them in the same way, indeed in some cases one person's description might be unrecognisable to me. Other writers may describe a view that makes a lot more sense of the quadrangle than others and be more helpful to read.
This understanding allows me to read and listen to a variety of writers and still get some value out of them. To me, it is sometimes more important to focus on similarities even if I feel bound to argue over the differences. After all, we all live in the same building.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Banning the Ban
Haven't blogged here for a while. This is my multipurpose blog, so here's one on theology.
I recently went to the TEAR conference in Helensburgh, south of Sydney. I heard Sylvia Keesmaat and Brian Walsh talk on a range of issues, but one stuck with me in particular.
There is a rather ugly issue (for some at least) in the Old Testament. It's known as the Ban, the commandment for the Israelites to wipe out the inhabitants of the land of Canaan. In Deuteronomy 7:1-2 read:
7 “When the Lord your God brings you into the land where you are entering to possess it, and clears away many nations before you, the Hittites and the Girgashites and the Amorites and the Canaanites and the Perizzites and the Hivites and the Jebusites, seven nations greater and stronger than you, 2 and when the Lord your God delivers them before you and you defeat them, then you shall utterly destroy them. You shall make no covenant with them and show no favor to them.
Now this text is not so pleasant for modern eyes, and I won't attempt any of the usual approaches to the text. However, its treatment in the New Testament is interesting, and Brian Walsh teased this apart nicely.
In Matthew 10, Jesus chooses 12 disciples - a clear pointer to him constituting a new people of God as Israel had 12 tribes. In chapter 14, Jesus feeds 5000 people (well men so many more). There are 12 baskets left over of food. Again, the 12 is meant to point to a new people of God.
Now two stories make it clear that while Jesus was in the first instance sent to Israel, the new people of God would include all nations, including those who had been under the Ban. This also points to Jesus' rejection of violence.
Firstly, Jesus goes into Gentile country (Tyre and Sidon) and encounters a woman described as a Canaanite woman. In Mark she is called a SyroPhoenician woman (which is what she was). There were no more Canaanites (the name was not used). The Jew Matthew was making the point that the old hostilities were at an end. Jesus meets a woman that as a devout Jew he should have avoided, historically killed and certainly not healed. Instead, his amazement at her faith leads to him healing her daughter.
The other pointer is that Jesus feeds 4000 Gentiles in that region and that there are 7 leftover baskets of food. The 7 is not some figure of perfections (see for example its use in Revelation) but a reference to the 7 nations of Deuteronomy 7! Jesus provides for those historically outside of God's plan - a pointer back to Genesis 12:1-3 that the blessing was for all nations, and not even their sin and treatment of Israel could ultimately put them out of this blessing.
No, this doesn't deal with the violence of the Ban, but it does show it was transitory, and that non-violence is at the core of the Christian gospel.
I recently went to the TEAR conference in Helensburgh, south of Sydney. I heard Sylvia Keesmaat and Brian Walsh talk on a range of issues, but one stuck with me in particular.
There is a rather ugly issue (for some at least) in the Old Testament. It's known as the Ban, the commandment for the Israelites to wipe out the inhabitants of the land of Canaan. In Deuteronomy 7:1-2 read:
7 “When the Lord your God brings you into the land where you are entering to possess it, and clears away many nations before you, the Hittites and the Girgashites and the Amorites and the Canaanites and the Perizzites and the Hivites and the Jebusites, seven nations greater and stronger than you, 2 and when the Lord your God delivers them before you and you defeat them, then you shall utterly destroy them. You shall make no covenant with them and show no favor to them.
Now this text is not so pleasant for modern eyes, and I won't attempt any of the usual approaches to the text. However, its treatment in the New Testament is interesting, and Brian Walsh teased this apart nicely.
In Matthew 10, Jesus chooses 12 disciples - a clear pointer to him constituting a new people of God as Israel had 12 tribes. In chapter 14, Jesus feeds 5000 people (well men so many more). There are 12 baskets left over of food. Again, the 12 is meant to point to a new people of God.
Now two stories make it clear that while Jesus was in the first instance sent to Israel, the new people of God would include all nations, including those who had been under the Ban. This also points to Jesus' rejection of violence.
Firstly, Jesus goes into Gentile country (Tyre and Sidon) and encounters a woman described as a Canaanite woman. In Mark she is called a SyroPhoenician woman (which is what she was). There were no more Canaanites (the name was not used). The Jew Matthew was making the point that the old hostilities were at an end. Jesus meets a woman that as a devout Jew he should have avoided, historically killed and certainly not healed. Instead, his amazement at her faith leads to him healing her daughter.
The other pointer is that Jesus feeds 4000 Gentiles in that region and that there are 7 leftover baskets of food. The 7 is not some figure of perfections (see for example its use in Revelation) but a reference to the 7 nations of Deuteronomy 7! Jesus provides for those historically outside of God's plan - a pointer back to Genesis 12:1-3 that the blessing was for all nations, and not even their sin and treatment of Israel could ultimately put them out of this blessing.
No, this doesn't deal with the violence of the Ban, but it does show it was transitory, and that non-violence is at the core of the Christian gospel.
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Guest post on another blog: postconservative evangelicalism
I am a guest blogger on reddresstheology, a blog devoted to emergent theology. It is a review of Roger Olson's book Reformed and always reforming. An excellent book which makes me want to continue to use the term Evangelical to describe myself. The direct link to the post is here.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
On work
For some brands of Christianity, the highest is 'Christian work', which is to say full timed paid ministry. Now that this is a high calling is true enough, but too often 'secular work' is derided as of less value. There was a medieval maxim laborare est orare - 'to work is to pray'. Now there's a thought. There is of course, a number of controls or limits on this - this doesn't sanctify prostitution for a believer, but it is a good antidote to too much neo-Platonic thinking in church.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
The value of interlocutors for bloggers
Just a quick one.
Thanks to my anonymous interlocutor on the Creed thread. No time to expand my pneumatology now on the paraclete. As for the song being devoid of hope, I'd argue not - though it is incipient and an echo. It isn't the whole of Stapp's thinking - no one song says it all. Another favourite is "Faceless man"
I spent a day by the river
It was quiet and the wind stood still
I spent some time with nature
To remind me of all that's real
It's funny how silence speaks sometimes when you're alone
And remember that you feel
I said it's funny how silence speaks sometimes when you're alone
And remember that you feel
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Now I saw a face on the water
It looked humble but willing to fight
I saw the will of a warrior
His yoke is easy and His burden is light
He looked me right in the eyes
Direct and concise to remind me
To always do what's right
He looked me right in the eyes
Direct and concise to remind me
To always do what's right
Again I stand. Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Again I stand. Lord, God I stand,
against the Faceless Man
'Cause if the face inside can't see the light
I know I'll have to walk alone
And if I walk alone to the other side
I know I might not make it home
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Next time I see this face
I'll say I choose to live for always
So won't you come inside And never go away
Next time I see this face
I'll say I choose to live for always
So won't you come inside And never go away
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
I think it describes his journey away from and towards God again - something we all do in some measure even from day to day. He stands against the Faceless Man, the one who reminds him to always do what's right. Next time he sees that face, he'll choose to live for always (eternal life?) and call's Jesus to come inside and never go away (the role of the Spirit - see the paraclete discourses in Jn 14-17).
Ages ago someone else sent me a bunch of links, the no fear zoo, etc. I still mean to follow up on these if you are reading.
Peace
Thanks to my anonymous interlocutor on the Creed thread. No time to expand my pneumatology now on the paraclete. As for the song being devoid of hope, I'd argue not - though it is incipient and an echo. It isn't the whole of Stapp's thinking - no one song says it all. Another favourite is "Faceless man"
I spent a day by the river
It was quiet and the wind stood still
I spent some time with nature
To remind me of all that's real
It's funny how silence speaks sometimes when you're alone
And remember that you feel
I said it's funny how silence speaks sometimes when you're alone
And remember that you feel
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Now I saw a face on the water
It looked humble but willing to fight
I saw the will of a warrior
His yoke is easy and His burden is light
He looked me right in the eyes
Direct and concise to remind me
To always do what's right
He looked me right in the eyes
Direct and concise to remind me
To always do what's right
Again I stand. Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Again I stand. Lord, God I stand,
against the Faceless Man
'Cause if the face inside can't see the light
I know I'll have to walk alone
And if I walk alone to the other side
I know I might not make it home
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Next time I see this face
I'll say I choose to live for always
So won't you come inside And never go away
Next time I see this face
I'll say I choose to live for always
So won't you come inside And never go away
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
Again I stand, Lord I stand,
against the Faceless Man
I think it describes his journey away from and towards God again - something we all do in some measure even from day to day. He stands against the Faceless Man, the one who reminds him to always do what's right. Next time he sees that face, he'll choose to live for always (eternal life?) and call's Jesus to come inside and never go away (the role of the Spirit - see the paraclete discourses in Jn 14-17).
Ages ago someone else sent me a bunch of links, the no fear zoo, etc. I still mean to follow up on these if you are reading.
Peace
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