You can often learn more from your enemies than from your friends. Your friends may be biased in your favor; but your enemies rarely are. When your friends tell you that mullet really looks great on you, they might have a motive besides commitment to the truth. Don’t trust it. But if your sworn enemy tells you, right before killing you in a hopefully humanitarian way that does not involve Michael Bolton music, I hate you and everything you stand for…but before you die, I just wanted you to know that I really do like your mullet – well, I think you can be pretty certain that you can pull off the Billy Ray Cyrus look.
This leads us to our next principle, which in a sense has to do with evaluating your enemies’ beliefs as much as your own.
Principle #3: Trust What Opponents Agree On as a Starting Point for Reasoning
The more different people are from each other, the more valuable it is when they agree. (This principle has sometimes been called triangulation – getting at the truth by observing the degree that different methods of truth-seeking yield similar results). If two Packers fans think Aaron Rodgers is the best quarterback ever, it is perhaps not the most trustworthy argument in favor of his greatness. But if one Packers fan and one Vikings fan believe he is the best quarterback ever, well, that’s a real point in his favor.
This has implications for evaluating what is true in this complicated world. In particular, it is often the case that opponents on each side of a debate implicitly agree on an underlying set of assumptions. I often think it is useful, as a starting point for understanding something, to begin with the things that different sides agree on.
Consider, as an example, that Christianity teaches that Jesus was physically dead and then physically rose to life again. Now one of the theories that has been used to discredit Christian belief is called the “Swoon” theory. The “swoon” theory basically says that Jesus did not actually die, but he was only nearly-dead when he was put in the tomb, and that he, like someone coming out of a coma, woke up and was able to find his way out. This rare but unfortunate circumstance led to the myth that he “rose again.” (The Swoon theory makes me think of the Princess Bride when Billy Crystal’s character makes a distinction between “mostly dead” and “completely dead”).
Now, let’s set aside evaluating the argument on its own merits for a minute. What I want to do is different: I’d like you to see all the things that this argument grants the Christian story; the things on which the two opposing sides agree. They agree that: (1) Jesus was a real person, (2) He was really crucified and put in a tomb, (3) people who believed He was really dead (because they had seen Him crucified) saw Him alive after He was put in the tomb, and (4) this experience was real enough to them to convince them that He was really dead and really raised back to life.
None of that makes the Swoon theory false. But think: It basically agrees with a lot of what Christians have asserted from the beginning. In a way, if we accept it as viable, it is one of the most compelling arguments for Christian belief that has ever existed, because it grants that there is a real problem to be solved. It grants that something pretty spectacular happened, and that something is in need of a real explanation. Thus, the Christian theory and the Swoon theory actually share a lot of common ground, and, according to our principle, that common ground ought to be pretty trustworthy.
However, by the virtue of cutting edge technology you free sample of viagra have the strong drug “Kamagra” which effectively stops the negative aspects of inhabiting enzyme c-GMP phosphodiesterase type5: This cause male impotency:Inhabiting enzyme c-GMP phosphodiesterase type5 is the culprit enzyme. Check The Privacy Polic y The online drug store only as it is a safe way to handle hair replacement and can be used supplementally with stronger chemical treatments. buying this usa cheap viagra 1. Kamdeepak capsules have been http://www.slovak-republic.org/history/velvet-revolution/ levitra samples engineered to tackle issues of loss of libido among females. Upcoming women viagra order Lohegaon-Kharadi-Wagholi road also providing the highest value to this location. Of course, that’s not the end of any good reasoning. The Swoon argument itself is so bizarre and difficult-to-swallow that it leaves one with the following legitimate question: If that is the length that the opponents of Christianity have to go to discredit it, then maybe, just maybe, Christianity is true after all? I mean, if I have to believe that a person could be crucified and pronounced dead, but actually still be alive – and in that beaten-up state could recover while buried in a tomb, could have the strength to roll away a stone, and then could be in impressive enough condition to convince His followers that He had actually risen from the dead – I say, if I have to believe all that to oppose Christianity, ought I not at least consider the possibility that maybe Christianity is true? Because by simply granting one fact that most people on earth already believe – namely, that miracles can happen – I avoid all the strange problems of the Swoon theory altogether.
I’d like to immediately point out that the Swoon theory isn’t the only, or the best, argument against the story of Christ as told by us Christians. I’m only using it as an illustration here. Really, I think in the end it’s a kind of straw man that is easy to attack for Christians, but as there are better arguments out there on the other side, I’m not trying to say anyone should be a Christian because of the Swoon argument. Here I’m using it to make a broader point about the kinds of things that are useful in accepting knowledge as valid. One of the things I often look for myself during a debate between two sides is what the sides agree on: And then I use that as a starting point for making inferences about which side is right. Their commonly-shared assumptions can, ironically, help distinguish the truth of those things they actually do disagree on.
Let’s consider a second similar parable and then we’ll discuss something with more direct intellectual value. Atheist and Nobel-Prize winning Francis Crick wanted to understand how life could have evolved on earth originally, given that the least complicated units of “life” we know of are still exceedingly complex. So he proposed that they must have come from somewhere else in the universe, fully formed, and arrived here via a comet or asteroid or meteor (a theory called “directed panspermia” for those who care).
Now, Francis Crick was an atheist, and would of course disagree with theists about many things. But consider what his directed panspermia theory grants; consider what his atheist theory and the theist theory agree on: The smallest units of life on earth are so complex that it is unlikely they could have just spontaneously evolved in the amount of time the earth has existed. One of the smartest and most widely-respected atheists who ever lived, a guy who spent his life studying the smallest units of life, thought so little of the possibility of spontaneous generation of life on this planet that he proposed it must have come from somewhere else.
Now again, this ultimately isn’t a compelling intellectual argument for me personally, because I’m rarely a fan of arguing from our lack of understanding. Just because Francis Crick can’t figure out how life might have spontaneously evolved doesn’t mean that it didn’t. (And I read that he softened his stance on this later). But the fact that he felt compelled to even propose the theory does suggest, at the very least, that it is fair to say that the smallest life on this planet is immensely complex. And that, at least, is a fact that is worth entering into our equation: That’s a fact that I trust is likely true, because opponents on all sides seem to implicitly and explicitly agree on it.
But let’s take a more meaningful example. Atheists and Christians naturally disagree on a lot, but pretty much everyone on all sides grants the following fact: There is a need for something on which to base a real morality. Even the most die-hard atheists admit that. Richard Dawkins appeals to a liberal consensus as a basis of morality. Sam Harris appeals to reason as a basis of morality. But almost all atheists that I know of acknowledge the need for something to serve as a basis for morality.
So, then, when wondering about which side is right on the larger questions they disagree on, it is worth considering, as a starting point, this fact which they both agree on. And given that admitted need for a real moral basis by pretty much everyone on all sides, it is a perfectly legitimate question to ask: Why do we have a need for that? And, once we admit that as a starting point, I think the Christian answer is better than any other answer I know of to that question.
It is not my purpose here to develop that argument (I am working on a post for next month that does so), but rather just to illustrate a legitimate way that this principle – for me, anyway – points loosely in the direction of Christianity.
By no means do all advocates of either the “Swoon” theory (or other theories that attempt to explain the Easter experience naturalistically) agree on or accept the basic facts of the Christian story: that Jesus lived, was crucified, died, was buried, and then somehow appeared to his disciples. Many of those advocates are skeptical of much of that story; they offer their debunking theories in the spirit of, “For the sake of argument, let’s just grant that those other things happened, and that therefore there is in fact something to be explained,” and then they go about showing how, even if you do give credence to the basic gospel narrative, you needn’t swallow a miraculous resurrection at the end. For what it’s worth, I happen to be among the non-Christians who accept that there is a substantial historical reality underlying the gospels; but I think you overstate the case when you say that resurrection skeptics in general concede the Christian story.
Is there, however, even for skeptics, “something spectacular” to be explained? Sure there is: the origin and then the growth of Christianity, spreading from a small and presumably demoralized band of Jesus’ disciples following his death, a spectacular achievement by any measure–but then, so is the origin and growth of every other major religion on the planet, several of which predate Christianity (and at least one of which began right here in the United States, in upstate New York about twenty miles from where I was born) and all of which can be and have been explained (not by their adherents, of course) without recourse to miracles. Christianity is not an utterly unique phenomenom, nor did it develop in a vacuum–historical, political, social, cultural, religious, or otherwise; it can be studied just as any historical phenomenom. The post-Easter experiences of Jesus’ followers certainly need to be dealt with and understood, since they were at the very foundation of the religion; whatever the facts of Jesus’ life and death, it’s incontestable that his followers began preaching in his name not long after he died. But psychology, among other disciplines, can shed some light on that, again without invoking the miraculous.
Finally: I’m not sure how you can refer to the “Swoon” theory as “bizarre and difficult-to-follow,” yet suggest that the traditional Christian claim–that Jesus was God in human form and rose from the dead–is either less bizarre or easier to understand. The annals of human history contain numerous examples of people who had been thought to be dead but weren’t, people in death-like comas who were accidentally buried alive, and people who in extreme circumstances demonstrated astonishing strength (“Mom lifts car to rescue toddler!”) and endurance. Such incidents have been well-documented, reliably attested, and naturalistically explained. I don’t believe the same can be said of Christianity’s unique assertion (unique outside of myth, at least) that a man/God can and did rise from the dead–in that case, we have no other evidence but the Christian claim about Jesus to go on. I personally think that “swoon,” “recover,” and “heroically endure a while longer while inspiring his followers” make a lot more sense, and are a lot more likely, than “reveal his divine nature by rising from the dead.”
Jack,
I can certainly understand your reaction, given that I called an argument you take seriously “bizarre” – so I apologize for that. And I admit that my original attack on the Swoon theory was very sloppy; my main excuse for said sloppiness is that it wasn’t intended to be a comprehensive attack on the theory, but rather just an illustration of an epistemological principle. Still, it was very sloppy in many ways.
Before I say anything else, I’d like to note that I was with you all the way on ontological argument and with your comments on the second post in this series; and I was with you part of the way in your critique of my Creeds posts and the post on doubt, among many others.
I make those qualifications because I want to point out that I am perfectly willing to agree with you in a general sense on many points, and you and I have much common ground. But on this issue, we must simply agree to disagree and (I trust and hope) going on being friends. For, quite honestly, there is very little in your comment that I can find to agree with. I’m pretty sure that every sentence contains something that I would quibble with at some level. Whatever else I could believe in this complicated universe, I’m quite sure the Swoon theory is not one of them.
I am not going to spend much time rebutting your post point-by-point, tempting though that is. My reason is that nothing you said makes me take the Swoon argument any more seriously than I did before (and indeed, you did not really provide any information/argument that I wasn’t already aware of) – and, to speak more frankly than I probably ought, I’m simply not convinced the argument is worth the time. However, I want instead to simply prod you with a question. I will offer a couple of additional clarifying remarks, because I can’t seem to help myself. But my silence on most of your comments is not due to agreement, but rather to a different reason.
If I am convinced that there is enough reason to take the argument more seriously, I will almost certainly devote several posts to debating the Swoon theory, rather than putting it into a comment here. You are a serious and cogent thinker, Jack, and your support of the theory does at least give me some pause. But it would take quite a long time to discuss in depth – and the preamble to my comment is already overlong.
(1) You state, as your primary defense of the Swoon theory:
“The annals of human history contain numerous examples of people who had been thought to be dead but weren’t, people in death-like comas who were accidentally buried alive, and people who in extreme circumstances demonstrated astonishing strength (“Mom lifts car to rescue toddler!”)…”
My prodding question is simple. I was already aware of these facts when I said the Swoon theory is not plausible. Recovery from death-like comas or super-human strength due to adrenaline (both completely separate physiological events that never co-occur together, by the way, in nature – at least, not logically, and not that I’m aware of) have certainly been recorded. I am as naturally skeptical of those events as I am when someone tells me about a miracle, but let’s grant those as facts for a minute. Assuming (as I do, like you) that there is truth to such stories of naturalistic phenomena, they bear only superficial resemblance to the Christian claims. It is one thing to be in a death-like coma and come out of it. The Christian story is quite another thing altogether; it isn’t just about a guy who never woke up one day appearing to be dead and someone discovered later that he wasn’t dead after all. It is about someone whose body was completely mauled using one the most brutal methods of death ever invented, seemed to die from it, and then several days later, unaided and entirely alone, woke up and found enough strength to roll away a giant stone from a tomb and – then changed the world.
And now (finally!) to the question: What “well-documented” cases in history involved people who, after claiming to be able to rise again from the dead, were brutally tortured and crucified (or equivalent), put in tombs with giant rocks (or other equivalents) in front of them, without medical care, and then recovered – three days later – so much so, that, should they have desired, they could inspire a movement based on a resurrection story? Show me some serious evidence of well-documented but clearly naturalistic phenomena that in some way parallel those events, and then I’ll begin to take the argument seriously. Otherwise, it seems to me that you are simply making a case about apples from evidence about oranges. It is kind of like saying that you don’t believe my 1994 Saturn was truly fixed by my mechanic replacing the engine, because you have heard stories of cars failing to start on a winter morning until the third crank of the ignition. After all, if cars can sometimes appear to have engine failures on the first crank – but then work after the third crank – why should I believe that the mechanic ever accomplishes anything? But the cases are only superficially parallel, in that they both involve cars that didn’t start. The reality is much different. I might be more inclined to doubt my mechanic’s usefulness if I heard that broken cars commonly started working again – spontaneously – under more severe circumstances. And that is how I feel about the Swoon argument’s case against Christianity.
(2) Now, three quick clarifications: (a) I never said that “resurrection skeptics in general concede the Christian story.” I know they don’t. What I said was that accepting the Swoon theory concedes much of the Christian story: And that is true. I made a point in my post of separating out resurrection criticism in general from this particular theory, by saying that the Swoon theory isn’t the only reason posited to reject Christianity. (b) I never said the Swoon theory was difficult to “follow;” I said it was difficult to “swallow.” In other words, I understand it perfectly fine – I just think it is highly implausible. (c) Your point about it not being any more “bizarre” than the Christian story is valid and well-taken. I probably should not have used that word. I have often been critical of other Christians for claiming that (say) the Mormon theory is “too bizarre to be believed,” because if you think about (say) the Virgin Birth, I’m not sure we can throw that particular stone. Though, really, I’m sure we would both agree that the apparent “bizarreness” of a theory has little ultimate bearing on its likelihood of being true; string theory in quantum physics is about as bizarre as they come, and yet seems as likely to be true as any other theory in explaining the incredibly strange world of the atom. Reality itself is often bizarre; as the folk saying goes, “truth is stranger than fiction.”
I was out of town when I left my perhaps hastily written previous comment–so I’ll apologize if I was either unclear, unfair, or in any way insulting to your beliefs. I didn’t mean to say that I believe the “swoon” theory (I’m actually agnostic about it) nor was I trying to get you to “take it more seriously”–I already know you’re a believing Christian, so of course you’re not going to be swayed by “swoon” even with my semi-vigorous defense of it. Rather, I only meant to say that I recognized constituent elements of that particular theory (mistaken verdict of death, subsequent surprising or even “miraculous” recovery), labored and far-fetched as it might be, as being explicable without recourse to the supernatural. Nor did I mean to conflate those elements or suggest that I thought a suddenly recovered and heroically strong Jesus rolled away a huge stone. I don’t know who rolled away the stone; I don’t even know if there was a stone. I don’t have a theory because I don’t have enough of the facts, and the facts that I do have were written by partisan chroniclers none of whom likely witnessed the events they wrote about. Despite that partisanship, I’m willing to believe much of what they wrote; but when their narrative departs from my understanding of the natural world and its laws (or, as Hume would have it, “observed regularities”), I withhold belief.
My reason for such a stance is that, if we’re still talking general epistemological principles here, I think it’s valid to say that, so long as a naturalistic explanation can be plausibly offered (even one that seems far-fetched), then it’s not necessary to invoke a non-naturalistic (supernatural) one (which I realize isn’t the same thing as saying that the non-naturalistic one isn’t true). All I was trying to do in my previous comment was to assert that “swoon” may well be far-fetched, but it at least involves natural phenomena that have been observed and attested; it therefore can’t be ruled out summarily just because it’s unlikely or unconvincing. (It’s ruled out for Christians, obviously, because they have their own alternative explanation.) I’m also not clear how you can ridicule “swoon” theorists for positing such a “bizarre and hard-to-swallow” tale, but then conclude your reply to me by reminding me that “reality itself is often bizarre” and “truth is stranger than fiction”.
In between Jesus’ death on the cross (an event I have no reason to doubt actually happened) and the subsequent revival of his ragtag band of disciples (history testifies to that), something happened–I sure don’t know what, but I’m inclined to either (a) leave it at that (“I don’t know what happened”) or (b) relate it in general to other natural human phenomena, physical and psychological, that have been observed and documented on more than one occasion. I’m not willing to invoke, as an explanation, a deity whose very existence remains, to me, an unfounded rumor, and I don’t think it’s necessary to do so. Believers obviously see it differently, and I’m not trying to argue against your belief; I’m pointing out that naturalistic explanations aren’t, for some of us, as ludicrous as you suggest. And I stand by my claim that the claim of resurrection, as an allegedly unique historical event and an allegedly unique manifestation of Jesus’ godhood and power over death, seems a lot harder to swallow (again, for me) than my preferred alternatives (“a” and “b” above).
Now, I may have just dug my hole deeper, but of course I hope we’ll agree to disagree on this one while remaining friends–which of us would have expected otherwise? Let me mention that I’m in the midst of re-reading “Mere Christianity,” in which Lewis, like you, makes the point that reality is strange, a point with which I heartily agree; but that point doesn’t lead to the conclusion that “the stranger something is, the more likely it is to be true.” “Credo qua absurdum est” or however Tertullian put it (my Latin is rusty) just doesn’t work for me; I’m more of an “extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence” kind of guy. Finally: as for string theory, I don’t know (or, frankly, care) if it’s true, and I’m happy to let scientists wax enthusiastic about it; at least no one is telling me that my immortal soul and eternal fate depend on my believing it.
(I’m back home, so any incoherence or impertinence in this is my own damned fault.)
Jack,
Thanks for your gracious and thoughtful reply! I wasn’t insulted, so no apology is necessary. As always, I appreciate the sensitivity and tact with which you vigorously argue for your position.
Well, there is much in your reply that I agree with. Rather than use this space to offer a full-scale debate on issues that I don’t think either of us cares about very much, I’ll hit a few bullet points.
(1) I appreciated very much your gracious response on this score and I fear this will sound kind of petty in return, but I think you misunderstood what I meant when I said I don’t take the Swoon theory seriously. This isn’t about whether or not I’m going to be swayed by the Swoon theory – it is true that I am not swayed by arguments against my faith that I yet find plausible, because I believe Christianity on other grounds. But I didn’t mean “I don’t take this seriously” in the sense that “I don’t believe it” or “I won’t consider it”; of course that’s true, but it isn’t what I meant. I meant that it isn’t a serious intellectual argument. I meant that, while I think there are many arguments against Christianity that are serious intellectual alternatives to it and that ought to be considered by thinking people (you provide some in your comment), the Swoon theory isn’t one of them. And I still think that. Even if Christianity were false, the Swoon theory is a bad theory. It is based on an exceedingly unlikely set of natural and psychological premises.
(2) I never meant to suggest that naturalistic explanations are “ludicrous,” so clearly I wasn’t communicating very well. I’m sorry it came off that way. In fact, I think most naturalistic explanations are perfectly plausible. I am very skeptical when people tell me something was a “miracle” and often am quite sure those events are explained by natural causes. I do not lightly disregard naturalistic explanations, even for miracles that I believe happened to me personally. What I am suggesting is not that naturalistic explanations are implausible, but rather that THIS naturalistic explanation (the Swoon theory) is implausible. And it is undoubtedly implausible, based on what I know of natural forces to this point.
But I am a big fan of naturalistic explanations. First, because I recognize just as you do that it is very difficult to determine in any one case what caused something, and second, because the Christian world view assumes that most things are caused by natural forces (there would be no possibility of a “miracle” otherwise, if most things didn’t operate according to set laws). What I am saying is simple: I believe naturalistic explanations writ large have force, but if you propose a naturalistic explanation that asks me to believe the sky is usually black at mid-day, I will not believe it – not because I believe in miracles, but because it can’t be right, as a natural explanation. And this one is like that to me.
(3) You have decided on other grounds that miracles don’t happen – but that is the main thing that makes the Christian story not plausible. Otherwise, it is the most face valid explanation for what happened – it is the straightforward, front-door explanation. (Now those sorts of explanations are often wrong; I’m not arguing that the fact that it is the most straightforward explanation makes it true; only that it would make it plausible, if you believed in miracles). In a sense, you are predetermining the conclusion before you start by assuming that Hume was right about miracles. If miracles happen, then the Christian explanation is certainly plausible. If they don’t, then of course it isn’t. (If you’re reading Mere Christianity, then you’re probably irritatingly familiar with this line of reasoning – sorry! But maybe some stray reader will chance to see this comment…haha). Of course, the same thing is partially true in reverse – I have decided on other grounds that miracles are quite probable indeed. But as I’m quite sure a debate about whether miracles can happen will get us nowhere (I like Hume, by the way, even though I’m quite sure he was wrong about almost everything), I’m going to drop it.
(4) On the ridiculing something for a dimension I later praised: Touche! Well said. I had thought of the point myself even as I wrote it, and you are completely correct. (All the same, there is a difference between strange and implausible; I’m actually not sure on further reflection that the Swoon theory is “strange,” but I’m sure it’s “wrong.” Still, your point is well taken, and I richly deserved to get the paint on my face from the corner I’d painted myself into!).
(5) You say the Swoon theory is “far-fetched, but it at least involves natural phenomena that have been observed and attested; it therefore can’t be ruled out summarily just because it’s unlikely or unconvincing.” Of course I completely agree that it can’t be ruled out entirely; almost nothing can. I cannot rule out for certain that I was once a cat named Lucinda who liked orange juice. But my whole point was that it doesn’t involve natural phenomena that have been observed and attested. The natural phenomenon you refer to have little bearing on the story at hand.
(6) We totally agree about the stone issue: Now we are getting into an argument that I think has serious intellectual merit. In fact, I think that hits on the only really plausible explanation for the Christian story (at least, that I myself can think of) that doesn’t involve a miracle: Namely, to basically say we can’t really know much about the history, and it’s possible the whole thing evolved over time the way that stories often do, so that the “miraculous” parts were kinda added later, bit by bit. (Or maybe they were just made up by some really enterprising followers, on the spot – the nature of the false story isn’t my point; my point is that arguing that the miraculous story itself is false in some way is an argument to be taken seriously, from this distance of 2000 years away). In my view, your skepticism about whether or not there was a stone is perfectly reasonable; that is a plausible skepticism. I disagree with you about it, of course, but I understand it and think it a valid argument. One can’t really prove anything from history directly, and so the only recourse is to work from other grounds.
(7) Indeed, that’s how I approach the whole matter anyway. You see, to me, His existence isn’t an unverified rumor; it is a fact of my existence. (I’m not trying to argue about which experience is right; in a way, I’m validating your point here. This isn’t so much an argument as a confession. As an argument, it would be an irritating assertion of fiat). And thus I don’t go to the stories needing them to convince me of Christ’s resurrection, exactly; rather, I hold them to a looser standard. If they could clearly be demonstrated to have no basis in history, then I would reject them. But that is obviously not the case. There is certainly enough historical evidence (leaving aside the miracles issue and using inductive reasoning) that they weren’t just made up totally out of nowhere; and I am content. But I don’t claim that is a conclusive argument (in fact, I hope you’ll note that I said in the beginning that it isn’t).
(8) We agree totally about the “truth is stranger than fiction” idea. I never meant to suggest that “because something is strange, it must be true.” That is incredibly dumb. I only meant to suggest that the opposite claim is equally dumb: “because something is strange, it must be false” is also a bad rule. I certainly am not asking anyone to believe Christianity just because it is complicated and strange! Like you, I’m much more of a “show me the evidence” kind of person.
(9) Great line about string theory and the immortal soul! I started to say “And the fate of your soul depends totally on your view of string theory,” just so you could no longer say that NO ONE was telling you that…but somehow, the joke seemed stale. And yet – there it is anyway. I might as well throw the bad joke in, seeing as how I promised some quick bullet points and…well, we got to freakin’ nine!
As always, Jack, your self-reflective, humorous comments are most appreciated! And no, I never doubted that we’d still be friends; I was just trying to find something conciliatory to say, in what otherwise seemed like an overly-caustic comment.
I’m certainly glad that, between the two of us, we’ve cleared this whole thing up.
What I probably should have said from the outset, rather than going on about a Swoon theory in which I have no intellectual or emotional stake, is simply the following (which would have saved us both a lot of time and grief):
“If we’re still talking about epistemology, I would cite two epistemological principles in this particular case. First, ‘Extraordinary claims (such as the claim that a truly dead man truly came back to life, thus proving his Divinity) require extraordinary evidence.’ Second, and relatedly, ‘Supernatural explanations ought not be invoked to explain events or phenomena until and unless all possible natural explanations–even “unlikely” or “implausible” ones–have been ruled out.’ You may not agree with that second principle, and might argue that ‘supernatural’ and ‘natural’ should have equal standing; but most epistemologists would probably accept it.”
Feel free to delete my previous comments on this post and substitute that paragraph.
You’re right that I assume the Humean position that miracles don’t happen–I take that as, at the very least, a starting point for inquiry. The difference between us on that issue is that you, if I read you correctly, believe that you have experienced miracles in your own life, and so are willing to believe that other miracles are possible as well; just as your belief that Jesus is alive today is based on your personal encounter with him. For my part, I have neither experienced miracles (except in the colloquial or metaphorical sense: my life is a miracle, this computer is a miracle, the career of Michael Bolton was a miracle, though not in a good way, etc.) nor encountered Jesus (or for that matter any other previously dead and buried person). So we both proceed on the basis of our different experiences and define the limits of our “reality” accordingly. I grant that your reality is larger than mine; but size isn’t everything.
That said: haven’t you ever wondered even a little about where Joseph of Arimathea came from (besides, obviously, Arimathea), why he was the one who claimed Jesus’ body from the cross, and why he then disappeared completely from the narrative–even though he was the one who laid Jesus in the tomb and then sealed it with a stone? Shouldn’t somebody have at least asked him if he knew anything about what had happened? I’m just saying…
Jack,
You were truly more gracious to my rambling comment than it deserved! It is really a joy to have you commenting on this blog.
You are correct: I have no problem with your first principle. The second one I take to be in need of serious qualification (there is a sense, discussed below, that I think you are right), as you suspected, but not because of the reason you suggest.
You did read me correctly, but I did not “write me” quite correctly. Even as I was posting my last comment, I didn’t feel great about it. Yes, there is a sense that I certainly believe in miracles because I have experienced them (nice line about Michael Bolton, BTW — gave me a good laugh!) — as Jesus said, “at least believe on the evidence of the miracles themselves.”
On the other hand, that has little to do with my partial rejection of your second premise. My reason for rejecting it precedes the miracles, in a sense (not necessarily in time, but in logic): I see no reason to a priori rule out the supernatural. That requires a different debate; but as far as I can tell, most people who believe as you do simply assert that the supernatural does not exist, as if it is self-evident. But that is not enough for me. The principle is not self-evident by any stretch of the imagination, or by any definition that I know of: Indeed, the vast majority of the people in the world that have ever lived or are currently living believe in the existence of supernatural levels of explanation. It doesn’t make them right; but it does certainly mean that arguing that this kind of thing is “self-evident” can be thrown right out of the proverbial window.
And I’m not sure I’d agree with your assertion anyway that most epistemologists take your side, certainly not modern ones (in Philosophy the climate has become much more theist over the last 30 years)…but frankly, does either of us care about that? Whether epistemologists would say that or not, I myself, independent of my own life experiences (whatever that means, I’m quite sure I do not know), can see no reason to limit the level of explanation to the natural world.
So I don’t think the actual difference between us is our experience of miracles, at least on this issue. I would hold my position regardless — if I ceased to believe Christianity, I do not see the logic of ruling out all levels of explanations by sheer fiat. Take the modern case of precognition. There was a nine-study package, published last year, in one of the most difficult journals in all of psychology to get into (one of the most prestigious and highly-cited journals on the planet), that basically showed the following thing: People are influenced by things that happen to them five minutes before they happen. For example, one study showed that people remember words better when they are ABOUT to rehearse the words (but haven’t yet) — as if the hands of time work backwards.
Now, most social psychologists are materialist atheists like yourself, and I found it amusing for them to discuss this finding; because of course they did not even consider any level of explanation besides a naturalistic one. And they have none — and I mean, literally none (the author of the paper said there is no currently known natural explanation, but that maybe someday there will be).
This is a kind of parable of what I mean. I have no problem looking for the natural explanation (which, by the way, is, in my opinion: the finding is a fluke and will likely be shown to be a fluke in time), but I have a problem ASSUMING that there is no possibility but a natural explanation. Of course there may eventually prove to be a natural explanation; but then again, there may not be. I think being open-minded about this complicated and mysterious universe is a better philosophical starting point (though not necessarily ending point). My philosophy allows for that open-mindedness.
Now, of course, although you haven’t really given any clear reasons defending your assertion in principle number 2, I’m sure that you have them. I don’t mean to imply that such reasons don’t exist. So please don’t imagine I’m trying to insinuate that you, yourself, are only believing in something by fiat! I know you are not. And I’ve read Hume myself, and unlike many Christians, I find him a very clever thinker whose arguments against miracles are not as easy to get around as a quick glance might suggest. My point is simply this: That is a debate that has to be had first, before anyone can make blanket assertions about the a priori probability that miracles happen. (And of course, I think Hume was wrong: His arguments are clever but not very conclusive, kind of like the ontological argument).
And I haven’t really given my reasons for disagreeing with Hume, either — I’m only taking pains to establish that your position isn’t automatically correct in a self-evident sort of way. I haven’t even begun a real discussion about miracles, on purpose — I don’t think it leads anywhere; at least, it doesn’t add anything really do the discussion of the supernatural in general, which we’ve been having for months. All I’m trying to do is maintain that there is no reason to rule miracles out up front, the way I might rule out up front the likelihood that my toenail got cut yesterday because a guy named Jimmy who lives in Tahiti snuck into my house and cut it. I cannot of course completely rule that out, but it probably isn’t worth considering. And I don’t consider miracles in that category.
All that said, I still have little problem with the idea that we should look for naturalistic explanations first. I do so myself. A miracle by definition violates the way normal things work: And so of course, also by definition, they must be “abnormal” (or not occurring as frequently as the natural way of things). My problem is at a deeper level, about the a priori assertion that supernatural explanations ought basically to be ruled out all the time.
Whew! I just won’t let this go, will I! Sorry — I keep rambling and you keep making perfectly legitimate comments. Thanks, Jack, for your patience — if you’ve read this far!