This book is a great, short primer on addressing racial issues in the United States. Yancey and Emerson focus primarily on the tension between blacks and whites, so, it is not quite universally applicable. The core thesis of the book is that (i) proposed solutions to racial tensions fall along a spectrum of majority-group obligations (i.e. what whites need to change) to minority-group obligations (i.e. what people of color need to change) and (ii) most of these models fail because they fall too far to either ends of the spectrum. In place of these failed models, Yancey and Emerson propose a new, centrist model called the “mutual-obligations” approach. The basic contention is not all that controversial: white people and people of color have to agree on the solution if said solution is going to be successful. Saying that whites need to fix the broken system that we have created and benefitted from will not work because (i) it creates an unnecessary sense of powerlessness among people of color and (ii) heck no, we like our white privilege. Saying that we need to all just be colorblind will not work because (i) it allows the very real systemic problems to be ignored and (ii) it devalues the uniqueness of culture. Thus, Yancey and Emerson suggest that each group has obligations to the other if there is going to be long lasting reform. To evaluate this empirically, they analyze (through interviews) successful interracial communities: the U.S. military, interracial churches, and interracial marriages. In all of these cases, there was a “critical core” identity around which the communities aligned themselves and for which they sacrificed their self-interests.
In interracial churches, the interviewees expressed a common identity in Christ and need of His grace – truly an equalizing factor unlike any other. Because of this, they did not let their station as white or black influence how valuable they saw others that were unlike them. (Historical note: this has been a defining part of the church since its founding. The absolute scandal in the 1st century Mediterranian culture was that people of all social strata would participate in worship. Slaves and owners, while treated differently by their peers were equal before Christ. There is some speculation that this factored into later abolitionist movements, but, I’m not versed enough on the topic to speak intelligently one way or the other). Moreover, these churches allowed for self-reflection on the part of the leadership because they had to make decisions about conducting corporate worship in a ways such that it was mindful of all of the cultures present. The members of the church benefitted from communing with members of different backgrounds and expressions of faith. My favorite interview was of a Japanese-American who talked about how he adjusted when greeting Latino members of his church. He was shocked and uncomfortable the first time that he was greeted by a stranger with a hug where in the same situation, he would have used a simple handshake. Yet, he learned that in their culture, cold handshakes are considered distant and aloof. I identified with this man’s story because the first time I met Ada’s family and friends, they looked at me like I was performing a professional business transaction. In fact, before Ada and I started dating, I don’t think I ever gave her a hug but maybe once or twice.
It was also in these close, interracial communities that honest discussions about race relations can be had. If the environment is not political and you know the other person is not against everything you hold dear, it allows for more open conversation. Indeed, this was what helped me, as a white guy, to start to see things differently. My exposure to racial tension had always been through angry liberals in protests and it was easy for me to dismiss their opinions just like it’s easy for everyone to dismiss opinions of people you don’t relate to. But, a few years ago when I started hearing some of the same concerns being calmly stated by conservative black Christians who I respected, it was easier to accept that there might be more to the issue. Indeed, Yancey and Emerson point out this effect in interracial communities: whites began to be more aware and sympathetic to the difficulties faced by their brothers and sisters of color. Interestingly, in interracial marriages, the white spouse would show changes in their attitude toward racial tensions but the spouse of color would not. Also interestingly, the white spouse did not show a substantial increase in their socioeconomic status as a result of the marriage, but the non-white spouse on average did increase their socioeconomic status after the marriage.
There are several more interesting anecdotes and empirical results of interracial communities. The main point of this book is fairly simple: common goals, mutual obligations. I definitely recommend it if you are interested in racial tension in the U.S. and are unsure of where to start. It’s a short read, not overly ideological, and there are 15 pages of references at the end for further reading.
“Early Christianity was a mess with scores of contradicting gospels and different beliefs about who Jesus was. It wasn’t until hundreds of years later that the orthodox squashed out opposing views and rewrote the NT manuscripts”. Such is the charge that Köstenberger and Kruger tackle in this short work. They argue (I) early Christianity was remarkably United around the core identity and actions of Jesus, (II) the disagreement on the NT canon was localized to peripheral books and the 4 Gospels enjoyed widespread privileged status as early as the beginning of the 2nd century and (III) the textual reliability of the NT collection far and away outsrips any contemporary work.It’s important to go into this book with the right expectation. Essentially, this is a condensed summary of the authors’ work in three controversial areas of Christian origins: plurality of beliefs in the early church, origin of the NT canon, and textual criticism. I did not know this and having already read Kruger’s work on the canon and Daniel Wallace’s work on textual criticism, the arguments came off as surface level. DO NOT GET ME WRONG, it’s a great overview book, but if you are already familiar with Kruger or Köstenberger’s work in these areas, I would not recommend it. If you are looking for a starting place in these controversies, I would absolutely recommend it and further, follow the rigorous footnotes for detailed discussion on every point made.
With the caveat that this is not an extremely detailed work, I found many of the arguments to be a little rushed. To their credit, the authors would often cite a more detailed discussion in the footnotes. The form of some of the arguments were not overly persuasive to me even though I agree with the conclusions; however, as mentioned in my previous review on “Is There A Synoptic Problem?”, I think that if you are going to make a probability claim, it needs to include a properly justified p-value.
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There is a lot of good and a fair bit of “meh” in this book. Linneman’s main thesis is that current scholarship’s obsession with the Synoptic Problem and, by extension, the two-source theory is unwarranted. Then, she defends the litereary independence of the Synoptics.
At the start, she surveys several modern NT textbooks that blithely assert (without argumentation) the literary dependence of the Synoptics and the use of Q by MT/LK. This area stands out as she effectively shows that modern scholarship is effectively indoctrinating students with the two-source theory. This critique is also shared by Mark Goodacre (who actually thinks the Synoptics are literarily dependent). He and Linneman both argue that the Synoptic Problem is taught through the lens of the two-source hypothesis without proper attention given to the data that need explanation. It is to this question that Linneman turns in Part 2 of the book.
Here, she provides an extensive quantitative analysis of the parallels that supposedly demonstrate literary dependence. While her work is extremely valuable, I did not find her analysis overly convincing. For example, she would argue along the lines “We are expected to believe that Luke only found 28% of his source material from Mark valuable enough to retain verbatim which is absurd!” Granted, this is about the same caliber of reasoning used by the folks that came up with the two-source hypothesis. However, I think Linneman should have done more statistical analysis. Admittedly, I am an engineer, so, something like “On the hypothesis of literary dependence, we find a p-value of 0.036 for this pericope” would be much more convincing. Linneman thinks she has definitively shown that the literary dependence hypothesis is absurd and untenable. I do not find her argumentation that persuasive; however, I can say that her work has switched me from leaning towards the two-source theory to leaning slightly towards literary independence. YMMV.
The other weak area is at the end where she attempts to construct a plausible theory of how the Synoptics originated. I do not think that she substantially interacted with the objections to (a) the reliability of the patristic fathers nor (b) the Aramaic origins of Matthew. I think she could have been a bit more critical.
Lastly, I understand that she perceives historical-criticism as parasitic to Christian belief; however, I found her style to be unnecessarily polemic. Once I got used to it, it was fine to read; however, people who are already hostile to her position will not find the style to be any more comforting. I get the impression that may be an unnecessary barrier to interacting with her detractors.
Overall, this is a good read. It’s a great example of how conservative scholars interact with and take liberal scholarship seriously even when not reciprocated.
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(Alternate Title: The Problem of Private Parlance Pericopes)
There is an interesting objection to the reliability of the Gospels centered on the problem of private conversations. There are several interactions, the objection goes, wherein the details of the events are privy only to the participants of those events. The writers of the Gospels neither participated themselves in these events nor plausibly had access to witnesses of these event. Consider for example the conversation between Jesus and Pilate described in John 18.
Pilate entered again into the Praetorium, and summoned Jesus and said to Him, “Are You the King of the Jews?”
Jesus answered, “Are you saying this on your own initiative, or did others tell you about Me?”
Pilate answered, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests delivered You to me; what have You done?”
Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not of this world. If My kingdom were of this world, then My servants would be fighting so that I would not be handed over to the Jews; but as it is, My kingdom is not of this realm.”
Therefore Pilate said to Him, “So You are a king?”
Jesus answered, “You say correctly that I am a king. For this I have been born, and for this I have come into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice.”
Pilate said to Him, “What is truth?”
- John 18:33-38 (NASB)
This is a pretty detailed account for a guy who was not there to hear the conversation. Could it be the case that the author of John wove this vignette from whole cloth? Before we jump to that conclusion, let’s survey the potential candidates for John’s information.
First, Pilate would have the information regarding this information. Is it likely, however, that he would willingly participate in an interview with the early Christians? Admittedly, I am not an expert in this area, but it does seem highly improbable that a man of Pilate’s stature and background would take time out of his day to tell some fisherman what he discussed with their murdered Messiah. I think we can safely assume Pilate was not John’s source.
Second, there may have been bystanders. The text is unclear as to how private this conversation actually was. The term Praetorium is sometimes translated as “palace” or “headquarters” indicating that this was a large building presumably occupied with many of Pilate’s servants as well as military personnel. It does seem slightly unlikely that Pilate would take a criminal into a completely private room without any security. Thus, it is throughly plausible that a member of Pilate’s court overheard the entirety of the conversation, later converted, and shared their story with the believing community. Over time, this permeated into the oral tradition and eventually became encapsulated in John’s Gospel. While this is less of a stretch than John interviewing Pilate, it does seem slightly ad hoc.
Lastly, we have Jesus. Jesus would certainly have the relevant information about the conversation seeing as he was a participant. Moreover, Jesus certainly would not have a problem talking to John or any of the other disciples about what happened. In other words, Jesus was not a hostile witness. He seems to be the perfect candidate. Why would he not be considered a legitimate option? Here, we reach the crux of the problem.
The problem that a sceptic is going to have with Jesus being the witness is that Jesus was killed after this conversation, before he could tell anybody else. But, notice how this is circular! The only reason that Jesus could be invalidated from being a witness would be if he did not rise from the dead. But, if he did not rise of the dead, then the Gospels are not telling a true story in the first place. In other words, to raise this objection to the veracity of the Gospels requires assuming the Gospels are not veracious in the first place.
But isn’t the Christian reasoning in a circle, too? Isn’t she assuming the Gospels are true to defend the Gospels are true? Here, we need to clarify that the objection is an internal critique.
You Christians have an inconsistency in your source documents. You claim they are eyewitness testimonies, but even on your own view, there isn’t an eyewitness to this conversation!
On this count, the Christian can retort that she has the explanatory resources to remain internally consistent. Since the Gospels were written after the resurrection of Christ and the 40 days of teaching described in Luke 24, Jesus is a legitimate source to fill in some of the gaps, particularly during the Passion Week events. Note that the scope of this response is limited to internal consistency.
What’s the point? It means that the “covert conversation challenge” is not an independent objection to the veracity of the Gospels; rather, it is dependent on an objection to the resurrection of Christ: whether that is a general philosophical argument against miracles or specific historical case.
(Or at least every question I could find)
This is a post that I started over a year and a half ago. I found it in my drafts. Here you go!
April 1, 2014
Ravi Zacharias came to Texas A&M for the 2014 Veritas Forum. A part of the lecture included a Q&A populated by questions on Twitter under the tag ‘#RaviTAMU’. Unfortunately, Ravi did not address all of them despite some of them being really thought provoking. Today, I scoured the #RaviTAMU tag and copied all the questions I could find. I’ve grouped them into similar categories.
Wednesday, I participated in a debate on Molinism v Calvinism. I tag teamed with Richard Bushey against TurretinFan and Josh Sommer. It seems inappropriate for me to evaluate if our side “won” or not – that should be left to the audience. Nevertheless, there are a few issues I think deserve comment. In general, most of the debate hinged on definitional issues rather than true disagreements. There seemed to be a significant amount of talking past each other. In addition, I did not make my points with the greatest clarity. I would like to elucidate more clearly so future discussions can be more profitable.
Recently, there was a debate on the topic “Does God Exist?” at Western Washington University (WWU). The participants for the negative were Dr. Valerie Tarico and Bob Seidensticker (of the Cross Examined blog). The participants for the positive were two professors from Seattle University. Dr. Mark Markuly, Dean of the School of Theology and Ministry, and Rev. Mike Raschko Ph.D, professor of Catholic Systematic Theology. My evaluation of the debate will be broken into three parts. First, a quick summary of the main arguments and counter arguments. Second, a few technical comments on the debate. Third, my analysis of the arguments presented.
The video of the debate can be found on YouTube
The debate was structured as follows.
- 10 min opening for each speaker alternating Affirmative then Negative
- 3 min rebuttal from each speaker in same speaking order
- Open Q&A
Whether infants who die are redeemed or condemned is certainly a knotty problem and one that deserves to be treated soberly. Here, I will not attempt to tease out the various issues and reach a conclusion. Rather, I am going to examine a particular objection to a particular view and try to draw out some of the lurking presuppositions. In full disclosure, I do not have a position on this topic and I am weighing the various options carefully given the gravity of the implications.
The position in view is the “all babies are saved” perspective (I will refer to this as “infant universalism”). As with the other views, it has its strengths and weaknesses; however, there is a common objection to this view that I do not think makes much sense. This objection goes “if this view is true, then, abortion is the greatest Heaven filling practice of all time”. There are at least two problems that I see with this objection.
First, this seems to be an argument from consequence: an argument that derives the falsity of a premise from the consequences of that premise. This is a fallacious form of argumentation because the palatability of the conclusion does not impact the truth of the conclusion. If infant universalism is true, then, it does seem that abortion is a Heaven filling practice. This certainly seems to be uncomfortable but that does not make infant universalism false. There is a similar objection that legalists like to raise against the sufficiency of grace: if you do not have to do anything to be saved, then people will do whatever they want since they can just ask for forgiveness later. To be sure, this is not a perfect parallel; nevertheless, the fact that people abuse grace (an unfortunate consequence) does not impact the truth of the doctrine. I think the same can be said here of infant universalism.
Second, there seem to be some questionable presuppositions behind this objection. What is it that makes abortion an ethically unacceptable action? I do not think that eternal destination is the primary criterion or any meaningful criterion at all. Objections to abortion are usually in terms that that practice involves the unjustified killing of another human, not because these humans will be deprived of a chance to respond to the gospel message. If this is the case, then the practice of abortion is ethically unacceptable even if infant universalism is true. But if eternal destination bears no weight on the ethically acceptability of abortion, then aside from emotional effects, the “Heaven-filler” objection is rather moot. Moreover, it seems rather unobjectionable that adult Christians enter the glorified state after their Earthly death. If it were the case that eternal destination did bear weight in the ethical acceptability of actions, one could equally say that large-scale executions of Christian adults are Heaven-filling devices.
I can see how infant universalism makes abortion into a Heaven-filler; however, I don’t see how this makes infant universalism false nor whole sale legitimizes abortion.