LOGIC AND GOD

WHY LOGIC CAN NOT CO-

EXIST WITH GOD'S
OMNIPOTENCE AND
OMNISCIENCE
A COLLECTION OF ESSAYS BY

CHRISTIAN APOLOGISTS WHO EQUATE

RATIONALIZATION WITH LOGIC

Edited by jeffperado
BNOresearch Press

Big Picture Enterprises

2016
 Contents

Part 1.
1. God of the "Whats" and the "Hows"
Reformation21
2. #2 Post of 2013 – If God Cannot Change, Then Why Should We
Pray?
3. God and Logic
4. God - Truth - Logic – Christianity
by W. Gary Crampton
Part 2.
1. Embracing Religious Contradictions to Proclaim Christ Crucified:
Tolerance and Coexistence
Reformation21
2. An Understanding of the phrase “He descended into hell” in the
Apostles’ Creed
3. The Miracles of Christ
4. Relativism and Ethics: What is Truth -- and does it Matter?
PART 1.
 God and Logic
by Gordon H. Clark
gospelpedlar.com/articles/God/logic.html

In thinking about God, Calvinists almost immediately repeat

the Shorter Catechism and say, "God is a spirit, infinite, eternal,
and unchangeable." Perhaps we do not pause to clarify our
ideas of spirit, but hurry on to the attributes of "wisdom,
holiness, justice, goodness, and truth." But pause: Spirit,
Wisdom, Truth. Psalm 31:5 addresses God as "0 Lord God of
truth." John 17:3 says, "This is life eternal, that they might
know thee, the only true God...." 1 John 5:6 says, "the Spirit is
truth." Such verses as these indicate that God is a rational,
thinking being whose thought exhibits the structure of
Aristotelian logic.
If anyone objects to Aristotelian logic in this connection––and
presumably he does not want to replace it with the Boolean–
Russellian symbolic logic––let him ask and answer whether it is
true for God that if all dogs have teeth, some dogs––spaniels––
have teeth? Do those who contrast this "merely human logic"
with a divine logic mean that for God all dogs may have teeth
while spaniels do not? Similarly, with "merely human"
arithmetic: two plus two is four for man, but is it eleven for
God? Ever since St. Bernard distrusted Abelard, it has been a
mark of piety in some quarters to disparage "mere human
reason"; and at the present time existentialistic, neo-orthodox
authors object to "straight-line" inference and insist that faith
must "curb" logic. Thus they not only refuse to make logic an
axiom, but reserve the right to repudiate it. In opposition to the
latter view, the following argument will continue to insist on
the necessity of logic; and with respect to the contention that
Scripture cannot he axiomatic because logic must be, it will be
necessary to spell out in greater detail the meaning of
Scriptural revelation.
 Now, since in this context verbal revelation is a revelation
from God, the discussion will begin with the relation between
God and logic. Afterward will come the relation between logic
and the Scripture. And finally the discussion will turn to logic
in man.
Logic and God
It will be best to begin by calling attention to some of the
characteristics the Scriptures attribute to God. Nothing
startling is involved in remarking that God is omniscient. This
is a commonplace of Christian theology. But, further, God is
eternally omniscient. He has not learned his knowledge. And
since God exists of himself, independent of everything else,
indeed the Creator of everything else, he must himself be the
source of his own knowledge. This important point has had a
history.
At the beginning of the Christian era, Philo, the Jewish scholar
of Alexandria, made an adjustment in Platonic philosophy to
bring it into accord with the theology of the Old Testament.
Plato had based his system on three original, independent
principles: the World of Ideas, the Demiurge, and chaotic space.
Although the three were equally eternal and independent of
each other, the Demiurge fashioned chaotic space into this
visible world by using the Ideas as his model. Hence in Plato the
World of Ideas is not only independent of but even in a sense
superior to the maker of heaven and earth. He is morally
obligated, and in fact willingly submits, to the Ideas of justice,
man, equality, and number.
Philo, however, says, "God has been ranked according to the
one and the unit; or rather even the unit has been ranked
according to the one God, for all number, like time, is younger
than the cosmos, while God is older than the cosmos and its
creator."
This means that God is the source and determiner of all truth.
Christians generally, even uneducated Christians, understand
that water, milk, alcohol, and gasoline freeze at different
temperatures because God created them that way. God could
have made an intoxicating fluid freeze at zero Fahrenheit and
he could have made the cow's product freeze at forty. But he
decided otherwise. Therefore behind the act of creation there is
an eternal decree. It was God's eternal purpose to have such
liquids, and therefore we can say that the particularities of
nature were determined before there was any nature.
Similarly in all other varieties of truth, God must be
accounted sovereign. It is his decree that makes one
proposition true and another false. Whether the proposition be
physical, psychological, moral, or theological, it is God who
made it that way. A proposition is true because God thinks it so.
Perhaps for a certain formal completeness, a sample of
Scriptural documentation might be appropriate. Psalm 147:5
says, "God is our Lord, and of great power; his understanding is
infinite." If we cannot strictly conclude from this verse that
God's power is the origin of his understanding, at least there is
no doubt that omniscience is asserted. 1 Samuel 2:3 says "the
Lord is a God of knowledge." Ephesians 1:8 speaks of God's
wisdom and prudence. In Romans 16:27 we have the phrase,
"God only wise," and in 1 Timothy 1:17 the similar phrase, "the
only wise God."
Further references and an excellent exposition of them may
be found in Stephen Charnock, The Existence and Attributes of
God, chapters VIII and IX. From this distinguished author a few
lines must he included here.
God knows himself because his knowledge with his will is the
cause of all other things; ... he is the first truth, and therefore is
the first object of his understanding.... As he is all knowledge,
so he hath in himself the most excellent object of knowledge....
No object is so intelligible to God as God is to himself... for his
understanding is his essence, himself. God knows his own
decree and will, and therefore must know all things.... God must
know what he hath decreed to come to pass.... God must know
because he willed them ... he therefore knows them because he
knows what he willed. The knowledge of God cannot arise from
the things themselves, for then the knowledge of God would
have a cause without him.... As God sees things possible in the
glass of his own power, so he sees things future in the glass of
his own will.
A great deal of Charnock's material has as its purpose the
listing of the objects of God's knowledge. Here, however, the
quotations were made to point out that God's knowledge
depends on his will and on nothing external to him. Thus we
may repeat with Philo that God is not to be ranked under the
idea of unity, or of goodness, or of truth; but rather unity,
goodness, and truth are to be ranked under the decree of God.
Logic Is God
It is to be hoped that these remarks on the relation between
God and truth will be seen as pertinent to the discussion of
logic. In any case, the subject of logic can be more clearly
introduced by one more Scriptural reference. The well–known
prologue to John's Gospel may be paraphrased, "In the
beginning was Logic, and Logic was with God, and Logic was
God.... In logic was life and the life was the light of men."
This paraphrase––in fact, this translation––may not only
sound strange to devout ears, it may even sound obnoxious and
offensive. But the shock only measures the devout person's
distance from the language and thought of the Greek New
Testament. Why it is offensive to call Christ Logic, when it does
not offend to call him a word, is hard to explain. But such is
often the case. Even Augustine, because he insisted that God is
truth, has been subjected to the anti–intellectualistic
accusation of "reducing" God to a proposition. At any rate, the
strong intellectualism of the word Logos is seen in its several
possible translations: to wit, computation, (financial) accounts,
esteem, proportion and (mathematical) ratio, explanation,
theory or argument, principle or law, reason, formula, debate,
narrative, speech, deliberation, discussion, oracle, sentence,
and wisdom.
Any translation of John 1:1 that obscures this emphasis on
mind or reason is a bad translation. And if anyone complains
that the idea of ratio or debate obscures the personality of the
second person of the Trinity, he should alter his concept of
personality. In the beginning, then, was Logic.
That Logic is the light of men is a proposition that could well
introduce the section after next on the relation of logic to man.
But the thought that Logic is God will bring us to the conclusion
of the present section. Not only do the followers of St. Bernard
entertain suspicions about logic, but even more systematic
theologians are wary of any proposal that would make an
abstract principle superior to God. The present argument, in
consonance with both Philo and Charnock, does not do so. The
law of contradiction is not to be taken as an axiom prior to or
independent of God. The law is God thinking.
For this reason also the law of contradiction is not subsequent
to God. If one should say that logic is dependent on God's
thinking, it is dependent only in the sense that it is the
characteristic of God's thinking. It is not subsequent
temporally, for God is eternal and there was never a time when
God existed without thinking logically. One must not suppose
that God's will existed as an inert substance before he willed to
think.
As there is no temporal priority, so also there is no logical or
analytical priority. Not only was Logic the beginning, but Logic
was God. If this unusual translation of John's Prologue still
disturbs someone, he might yet allow that God is his thinking.
God is not a passive or potential substratum; he is actuality or
activity. This is the philosophical terminology to express the
Biblical idea that God is a living God. Hence logic is to be
considered as the activity of God's willing.
Although Aristotle's theology is no better (and perhaps
worse) than his epistemology, he used a phrase to describe God,
which, with a slight change, may prove helpful. He defined God
as "thought-thinking-thought." Aristotle developed the
meaning of this phrase so as to deny divine omniscience. But if
we are clear that the thought which thought thinks includes
thought about a world to be created-in Aristotle God has no
knowledge of things inferior to him––the Aristotelian definition
of God as "thought-thinking-thought" may help us to
understand that logic, the law of contradiction, is neither prior
to nor subsequent to God's activity.
This conclusion may disturb some analytical thinkers. They
may wish to separate logic and God. Doing so, they would
complain that the present construction merges two axioms into
one. And if two, one of them must be prior; in which case we
would have to accept God without logic, or logic without God;
and the other one afterward. But this is not the presupposition
here proposed. God and logic are one and the same first
principle, for John wrote that Logic was God.
At the moment this much must suffice to indicate the relation
of God to logic. We now pass to what at the beginning seemed
to he the more pertinent question of logic and Scripture.
Logic and Scripture
There is a minor misunderstanding that can easily he
disposed of before discussing the relation of logic to the
Scriptures. Someone with a lively historical sense might
wonder why Scripture and revelation are equated, when God's
direct speech to Moses, Samuel, and the prophets is even more
clearly revelation.
This observation became possible simply because of previous
brevity. Of course God's speech to Moses was revelation, in fact,
revelation par excellence, if you wish. But we are not Moses.
Therefore, if the problem is to explain how we know in this age,
one cannot use the personal experience of Moses. Today we
have the Scripture. As the Westminster Confession says, "It
pleased the Lord ... to reveal himself ... and afterwards ... to
commit the same wholly unto writing, which maketh the holy
scripture to he most necessary, those former ways of God's
revealing his will unto his people being now ceased." What God
said to Moses is written in the Bible; the words are identical;
the revelation is the same.
In this may be anticipated the relation of logic to the
Scripture. First of all, Scripture, the written words of the Bible,
is the mind of God. What is said in Scripture is God's thought.
In contemporary religious polemics, the Biblical view of the
Bible, the historic position of the Reformation, or––what is the
same thing––the doctrine of plenary and verbal inspiration is
castigated as Bibliolatry. The liberals accuse the Lutheran's and
Calvinists of worshipping a book instead of worshipping God.
Apparently they think that we genuflect to the Bible on the
pulpit, and they deride us for kissing the ring of a paper pope.
This caricature stems from their materialistic turn of mind––a
materialism that may not be apparent in other discussions––
but which comes to the surface when they direct their fire
against fundamentalism. They think of the Bible as a material
book with paper contents and a leather binding. That the
contents are the thoughts of God, expressed in God's own
words, is a position to which they are so invincibly antagonistic
that they cannot even admit it to be the position of a
fundamentalist.
Nevertheless we maintain that the Bible expresses the mind
of God. Conceptually it is the mind of God, or, more accurately,
a part of God's mind. For this reason the Apostle Paul, referring
to the revelation given him, and in fact given to the Corinthians
through him, is able to say, "We have the mind of Christ." Also
in Philippians 2:5 he exhorts them, "Let this mind be in you
which was also in Christ Jesus." To the same purpose is his
modest claim in 1 Corinthians 7:40, "I think also that I have the
Spirit of God."
The Bible, then, is the mind or thought of God. It is not a
physical fetish, like a crucifix. And I doubt that there has ever
been even one hillbilly fundamentalist ignorant enough to pray
to a black book with red edges. Similarly, the charge that the
Bible is a paper pope misses the mark for the same reason. The
Bible consists of thoughts, not paper; and the thoughts are the
thoughts of the omniscient, infallible God, not those of
Innocent III.
On this basis––that is, on the basis that Scripture is the mind
of God––the relation to logic can easily be made clear. As might
be expected, if God has spoken, he has spoken logically. The
Scripture therefore should and does exhibit logical
organization.
For example, Romans 4:2 is an enthymematic hypothetical
destructive syllogism. Romans 5:13 is a hypothetical
constructive syllogism. 1 Corinthians 15:15-18 is a sorites.
Obviously, examples of standard logical forms such as these
could be listed at great length.
There is, of course, much in Scripture that is not syllogistic.
The historical sections are largely narrative; yet every
declarative sentence is a logical unit. These sentences are
truths; as such they are objects of knowledge. Each of them has,
or perhaps we should say, each of them is a predicate attached
to a subject. Only so can they convey meaning.
Even in the single words themselves, as is most clearly seen in
the cases of nouns and verbs, logic is embedded. If Scripture
says, David was King of Israel, it does not mean that David was
president of Babylon; and surely it does not mean that
Churchill was prime minister of China. That is to say, the words
David, King, and Israel have definite meanings.
The old libel that Scripture is a wax nose and that
interpretation is infinitely elastic is clearly wrong. If there were
no limits to interpretation, we might interpret the libel itself as
an acceptance of verbal and plenary inspiration. But since the
libel cannot be so interpreted, neither can the Virgin Birth be
interpreted as a myth nor the Resurrection as a symbol of
spring. No doubt there are some things hard to be understood
which the unlearned wrest to their own destruction, but the
difficulties are no greater than those found in Aristotle or
Plotinus, and against these philosophers no such libel is ever
directed. Furthermore, only some things are hard. For the rest,
Protestants have insisted on the perspicuity of Scripture.
Nor need we waste time repeating Aristotle's explanation of
ambiguous words. The fact that a word must mean one thing
and not its contradictory is the evidence of the law of
contradiction in all rational language.
This exhibition of the logic embedded in Scripture explains
why Scripture rather than the law of contradiction is selected
as the axiom. Should we assume merely the law of
contradiction, we would he no better off than Kant was. His
notion that knowledge requires a priori categories deserves
great respect. Once for all, in a positive way––the complement
of Hume's negative and unintentional way––Kant demonstrated
the necessity of axioms, presuppositions, or a priori equipment.
But this sine qua non is not sufficient to produce knowledge.
Therefore the law of contradiction as such and by itself is not
made the axiom of this argument.
For a similar reason, God as distinct from Scripture is not
made the axiom of this argument. Undoubtedly this twist will
seem strange to many theologians. It will seem particularly
strange after the previous emphasis on the mind of God as the
origin of all truth. Must not God be the axiom? For example, the
first article of the Augsburg Confession gives the doctrine of
God, and the doctrine of the Scripture hardly appears anywhere
in the whole document. In the French Confession of 1559, the
first article is on God; the Scripture is discussed in the next five.
The Belgic Confession has the same order. The Scotch
Confession of 1560 begins with God and gets to the Scripture
only in article nineteen. The Thirty-Nine Articles begin with the
Trinity, and Scripture comes in articles six and following. If God
is sovereign, it seems very reasonable to put him first in the
system.
But several other creeds, and especially the Westminster
Confession, state the doctrine of Scripture at the very start. The
explanation is quite simple: our knowledge of God comes from
the Bible. We may assert that every proposition is true because
God thinks it so, and we may follow Charnock in all his great
detail, but the whole is based on Scripture. Suppose this were
not so. Then "God" as an axiom, apart from Scripture, is just a
name. We must specify which God. The best known system in
which "God" was made the axiom is Spinoza's. For him all
theorems are deduced from Deus sive Natura. But it is the Natura
that identifies Spinoza's God. Different gods might be made
axioms of other systems. Hence the important thing is not to
presuppose God, but to define the mind of the God
presupposed. Therefore the Scripture is offered here as the
axiom. This gives definiteness and content, without which
axioms are useless.
Thus it is that God, Scripture, and logic are tied together. The
Pietists should not complain that emphasis on logic is a
deification of an abstraction, or of human reason divorced from
God. Emphasis on logic is strictly in accord with John's Prologue
and is nothing other than a recognition of the nature of God.
Does it not seem peculiar, in this connection, that a
theologian can be so greatly attached to the doctrine of the
Atonement, or a Pietist to the idea of sanctification, which
nonetheless is explained only in some parts of Scripture, and
yet be hostile to or suspicious of rationality and logic which
every verse of Scripture exhibits?
Logic in Man
With this understanding of God's mind, the next step is the
creation of man in God's image. The nonrational animals were
not created in his image; but God breathed his spirit into the
earthly form, and Adam became a type of soul superior to the
animals.
To be precise, one should not speak of the image of God in
man. Man is not something in which somewhere God's image
can be found along with other things. Man is the image. This, of
course, does not refer to man's body. The body is an instrument
or tool man uses. He himself is God's breath, the spirit God
breathed into the clay, the mind, the thinking ego. Therefore,
man is rational in the likeness of God's rationality. His mind is
structured as Aristotelian logic described it. That is why we
believe that spaniels have teeth.
In addition to the well-known verses in chapter one, Genesis
5:1 and 9:6 both repeat the idea. 1 Corinthians 11:7 says,
"man ... is the image and glory of God." See also Colossians 3:10
and James 3:9. Other verses, not so explicit, nonetheless add to
our information. Compare Hebrews 1:3, Hebrews 2:6-8, and
Psalm 8. But the conclusive consideration is that throughout
the Bible as a whole the rational God gives man an intelligible
message.
It is strange that anyone who thinks he is a Christian should
deprecate logic. Such a person does not of course intend to
deprecate the mind of God; but he thinks that logic in man is
sinful, even more sinful than other parts of man's fallen nature.
This, however, makes no sense. The law of contradiction cannot
be sinful. Quite the contrary, it is our violations of the law of
contradiction that are sinful. Yet the strictures which some
devotional writers place on "merely human" logic are amazing.
Can such pious stupidity really mean that a syllogism which is
valid for us is invalid for God? If two plus two is four in our
arithmetic, does God have a different arithmetic in which two
and two makes three or perhaps five?
The fact that the Son of God is God's reason––for Christ is the
wisdom of God as well as the power of God––plus the fact that
the image in man is so-called "human reason," suffices to show
that this so-called "human reason" is not so much human as
divine.
Of course, the Scripture says that God's thoughts are not our
thoughts and his ways are not our ways. But is it good exegesis
to say that this means his logic, his arithmetic, his truth are not
ours? If this were so, what would the consequences be? It would
mean not only that our additions and subtractions are all
wrong, but also that all our thoughts––in history as well as in
arithmetic––are all wrong. If for example, we think that David
was King of Israel, and God's thoughts are not ours, then it
follows that God does not think David was King of Israel. David
in God's mind was perchance prime minister of Babylon.
To avoid this irrationalism, which of course is a denial of the
divine image, we must insist that truth is the same for God and
man. Naturally, we may not know the truth about some
matters. But if we know anything at all, what we must know
must he identical with what God knows. God knows all truth,
and unless we know something God knows, our ideas are
untrue. It is absolutely essential therefore to insist that there is
an area of coincidence between God's mind and our mind.
Logic and Language
This point brings us to the central issue of language. Language
did not develop from, nor was its purpose restricted to, the
physical needs of earthly life. God gave Adam a mind to
understand the divine law, and he gave him language to enable
him to speak to God. From the beginning, language was
intended for worship. In the Te Deum, by means of language,
and in spite of the fact that it is sung to music, we pay
"metaphysical compliments" to God. The debate about the
adequacy of language to express the truth of God is a false
issue. Words are mere symbols or signs. Any sign would he
adequate. The real issue is: Does a man have the idea to
symbolize? If he can think of God, then he can use the sound
God, Deus Theos, or Elohim. The word makes no difference, and
the sign is ipso facto literal and adequate.
The Christian view is that God created Adam as a rational
mind. The structure of Adam's mind was the same as God's. God
thinks that asserting the consequent is a fallacy; and Adam's
mind was formed on the principles of identity and
contradiction. This Christian view of God, man, and language
does not fit into any empirical philosophy. It is rather a type of
a priori rationalism. Man's mind is not initially a blank. It is
structured. In fact, an unstructured blank is no mind at all. Nor
could any such sheet of white paper extract any universal law
of logic from finite experience. No universal and necessary
proposition can he deduced from sensory observation.
Universality and necessity can only he a priori.
This is not to say that all truth can he deduced from logic
alone. The seventeenth-century rationalists gave themselves an
impossible task. Even if the ontological argument he valid, it is
impossible to deduce Cur Deus Homo, the Trinity, or the final
resurrection. The axioms to which the a priori forms of logic
must be applied are the propositions God revealed to Adam and
the later prophets.
Conclusion
Logic is irreplaceable. It is not an arbitrary tautology, a useful
framework among others. Various systems of cataloging books
in libraries are possible, and several are equally convenient.
They are all arbitrary. History can be designated by 800 as
easily as by 400. But there is no substitute for the law of
contradiction. If dog is the equivalent of not-dog, and if 2 = 3 =
4, not only do zoology and mathematics disappear, Victor Hugo
and Johann Wolfgang Goethe also disappear. These two men are
particularly appropriate examples, for they are both, especially
Goethe, romanticists. Even so, without logic, Goethe could not
have attacked the logic of John's Gospel (I, l224-1237).
Geschrieben steht: "Im anfang war das Wort!" Hier stock
ich schon! Wer hilft mir weiter fort?
Mir hilft der Geist! Auf einmal seh' ich Rath und schreib'
getrost: "Im Anfang war die Thai!"
But Goethe can express his rejection of the divine Logos of
John 1:1, and express his acceptance of romantic experience,
only by using the logic he despises.
To repeat, even if it seems wearisome: Logic is fixed,
universal, necessary, and irreplaceable. Irrationality
contradicts the Biblical teaching from beginning to end. The
God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is not insane. God is a rational
being, the architecture of whose mind is logic.
November/December 1980

Against The World. The Trinity Review, 1978-1988. [God And Logic,
Gordon H. Clark, pg. 52-56] John W. Robbins, Editor. The Trinity
Foundation, P.O. Box 68, Unicoi, Tennessee 37692.
 God - Truth - Logic -
Christianity
By W. Gary Crampton
gospelpedlar.com/articles/God/God-Truth-Logic-
Christianity.html

Dr. Clark used the Augustinian "argument from the nature of

truth" to reveal the systematic consistency of Christianity.
Truth, he argued, must exist. That is, skepticism is false. Even to
deny the existence of truth (that is, to say that it is "true" that
there is no truth) is to assert that truth does and must exist.
Further, it is not possible for truth to change. That which
changes, by definition, cannot be true. To deny truth's
eternality (that is, to say that it is "true" that truth is not
eternal or that it will someday perish) affirms its eternal
nature. And since truth can exist only in the form of
propositions, it must be mental (that is, being propositional, it
can exist only in the mind). But seeing that the mind of man is
not eternal and unchangeable, there must be a mind superior to
the mind of man which is eternal and unchangeable: the mind
of God. God, as Scripture testifies, and the Westminster
Confession of Faith (1:4) confirms, is "truth itself." Therefore, if
a man knows any truth, he also knows something of God,
because God revealed it to him...
The Bible teaches that God is a God of knowledge (1 Samuel
2:3; Romans 16:27). Being eternally omniscient (Psalm 139:1-6),
God is not only the source of His own knowledge, He is also the
source and determiner of all truth. That which is true is true
because God thinks it so. As the Westminster Confession of
Faith (1:4) teaches, God "is truth itself." And since that which is
not rational cannot be true (1 Timothy 6:20), it follows that God
must be rational. The laws of logic are the way He thinks. This
is what the Bible teaches. God is not the author of confusion (1
Corinthians 14:33). He is a rational being, the "LORD God of
truth" (Psalm 31:5). So much does the Bible speak of God as the
God of logic, that in John 1:1 Jesus Christ is called the "Logic" of
God: "In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with
God, and the Logos was God" (the English word "logic" is
derived from the Greek word Logos used in this verse). John 1:1
emphasizes the rationality of God the Son. Logic is as eternal as
God himself because "the Logos is God." Christ, then, we are
told in the Bible, is the logic (Logos) of God (John 1:1); He is
Reason, Wisdom, and Truth incarnate (1 Corinthians 1:24, 30;
Colossians 2:3; John 14:6). The laws of logic are not created by
God or man; they are the way God thinks. And since the
Scriptures are a part of the mind of God (1 Corinthians 2:16),
they are God's logical thoughts. The Bible expresses the mind of
God in a logically coherent fashion to mankind. Hence, God and
logic cannot be separated, because logic is the characteristic of
God's thinking. Gordon Clark taught that God and logic are one
and the same first principle in this sense, for John wrote that
Logic was God. This will give us a greater understanding of the
relationship of logic and Scripture. Since logic is a
characteristic of God, and since Scripture is a part of "the mind
of Christ" (1 Corinthians 2:16), it follows that Scripture must be
logical. What is said in Scripture is God's infallible and inerrant
thought. It expresses the mind of God, because God and His
Word are one. Hence, as the Westminster Confession of Faith
(1:5) teaches, the Bible is a logically consistent book: there is
"consent of all the parts." This is why Paul could "reason" with
persons "from the Scriptures" (Acts 17:2). Since Christian
theism maintains that God is truth itself (Psalm 31:5; John 14:6;
1 John 5:6), then truth is logical. In this sense, logic may be seen
as a negative test for truth; that is, if something is
contradictory, it cannot be true (1 Timothy 6:20).
Further, logic is embedded in Scripture. The very first verse of
the Bible, "In the beginning God created the heavens and the
earth," necessitates the validity of the most fundamental law of
logic: the law of contradiction (A is not non-A). Genesis 1:1
teaches that God is the Creator of all things. It also declares that
He created "in the beginning." It does not teach, therefore, that
God is not the Creator of all things, nor does it maintain that
God created all things 100 or 1000 years after the beginning.
This verse assumes that the words "God," "created,"
"beginning," and so forth, all have definite meanings. It also
assumes that they do not mean certain things. For speech to be
intelligible, words must have univocal meanings. What makes
the words meaningful, and revelation and communication
possible is that each word conforms to the law of contradiction.
This most fundamental of the laws of logic cannot be proved.
For any attempt to prove the law of contradiction would
presuppose the truth of the law and therefore beg the question.
Simply put, it is not possible to reason without using the law of
contradiction. In this sense, the laws of logic are axiomatic. But
they are only axiomatic because they are fixed or embedded in
the Word of God.
Also fixed in Scripture are the two other principle laws of
logic: the law of identity (A is A) and the law of the excluded
middle (A is either B or non-B). The former is taught in Exodus
3:14, in the name of God itself: "I AM WHO I AM." And the latter
is found, for example, in the words of Christ: "He who is not
with Me is against Me" (Luke 11:23).
Since logic is embedded in Scripture, Scripture, rather than
logic as an abstract principle, is selected as the axiomatic
starting point of Christian epistemology. Similarly, we do not
make God the axiom, because all of our knowledge of God
comes from Scripture. "God" as an axiom, without Scripture, is
merely a name. Scripture, as the axiom, defines God. This is
why the Westminster Confession of Faith begins with the
doctrine of Scripture in Chapter 1. Chapters 2-5, on the doctrine
of God, follow.... "Christ [is] the only foundation for reasoning"
(18)...because the Bible tells us that He is the Logos, Logic
incarnate, "in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and
knowledge" (Colossians 2:3).

W. Gary Crampton
THE TRINITY REVIEW Copyright 2011. The Trinity Foundation
Post Office Box 68, Unicoi, Tennessee 37692. January ‐Feb 2011.
Email: tjtrinityfound@aol.com. Website:
www.trinityfoundation.org. Telephone: 423.743.0199. Fax:
423.743.2005.
 God of the "Whats" and the
"Hows"
Article by Scott Oliphint
April 2015
Reformation21
www.reformation21.org/articles/god-of-the-whats-and-the-
hows.php

In our last article, we saw that the objection of circular

reasoning in a Covenantal approach to apologetics has actually
been a standard objection to Reformed thinking for centuries.
Objections like this one are understandable, given that the ones
offering them are, for the most part, outside the pale of
Reformed theology. Whether we want to recognize it or not,
our theology dictates our apologetic methodology. Responses to
a "Classical" approach to apologetics, given its home in
Arminian theology, need, first of all, to find their home in
Reformed theology. Any disagreement on apologetic
approaches is, first of all, a disagreement of theology. The
debate, therefore, should be of a biblical and theological nature,
and not primarily philosophical.
This month, and (at least) the next (we'll need at least two
articles to flesh out our response), we face an objection that
assumes a certain, basic, awareness of philosophical jargon. I
hope, however, to explain these philosophical categories in
theological terms so that anyone unfamiliar with the
philosophical terms might nevertheless recognize their
theological importance and usefulness.
The next (oft-repeated but rarely argued) objection that we
want to highlight is, as it is most often put, found in the
distinction between epistemology and metaphysics (or
ontology).[1] The problem inherent in this "distinction" is put
this way:
While [the Covenantal and Classical approaches to
apologetics] appear to agree ontologically, they differ
epistemologically. Both are in accord on the necessity of the
Christian view of God being the ontological ground for all
meaning and truth (what). However, one would have to agree
with the Classical view that how we know this is true [sic]. Here
it seems that some sort of rational argument is needed
epistemologically to establish one view over the other. In the
final analysis, the Presuppositionalist has not successfully
refuted the charge that it confuses epistemology and ontology.
[2]
The rub, for the Classical apologist, appears to be related to
how we know something, which itself is related to how we argue
in our defense of Christianity. As we have seen, this "how" is in
distinction from the what. Classical apologists would, as would
any Christian, happily acknowledge that God is the author and
sustainer of all things in creation (what). This is the ontological
point. By that, I take it, they mean to affirm that the principle,
or source, of the existence or being (principium essendi), of all
things is the Triune God. He created all things, and he continues
to sustain all things in this world.
The point of disagreement, then, is in the area of knowledge
(how). This is what is called the "epistemological" component of
the debate. The problem can be a little murky. The problem is
not that all knowledge presupposes God. Both apologetic
approaches, I think, would agree on that. Since God sustains all
things, he sustains our knowledge as well. The objection is that a
Covenantal approach confuses the distinction between the what
and the how because we haven't adequately or properly taken
into account just exactly how we know things. We think, so the
objection goes, that just because God is the presupposition
behind all that exists, in that He created and sustains all things,
that He is also the presupposition behind how we know what we
know.
The "Classical" apologetic approach argues that we must
move away from this ontological principium, and from the
foundational priority of God and his creating/sustaining
activity, in order to get at the "how we know" question. The
contention above is that in apologetics, "some sort of rational
argument is needed epistemologically to establish one view
over the other." So much could be said about this, but we will
try to focus on a salient point or two.
It may come as a surprise, but the fact of the matter is that
there has never been an aversion to rational argument in a
Covenantal approach to apologetics; the notion that we must
argue with those who oppose Christianity is embedded in the
approach itself, but with a couple of important differences.
First, with respect to "argument," Cornelius Van Til, in
discussing what it means to reason by presupposition, says:
...the Reformed apologist maintains that there is an absolutely
valid argument for the existence of God and for the truth of
Christian theism. He cannot do less without virtually admitting
that God's revelation to man is not clear. It is fatal for the
Reformed apologist to admit that man has done justice to the
objective evidence if he comes to any other conclusion than
that of the truth of Christian theism.[3]
What is affirmed here must be repeated, especially in light of
the repeated objections to the contrary. To quote: "there is an
absolutely valid argument for the existence of God and for the
truth of Christian theism." That argument can start anywhere
and move in a number of different directions, all of which
conclude with God's existence. But there is, and must be, an
argument. And the argument for Christianity is "absolutely
valid."
The problem in arguing for the Christian faith, then, is not in
the argument itself, nor is it in some kind of antipathy to that
which is "rational." The problem is in the one to whom the
argument is given.
Here we can begin to highlight some positive principles of a
Covenantal approach, especially as it relates to the problem of
knowledge. In doing so, we also highlight the fact that a proper
defense of Christianity requires a view of "reality" and of
"evidence" that is consistent with Christianity and that does
not oppose it. It might help to further elaborate two points
from the above citation.
First, the Covenantal apologist "maintains that there is an
absolutely valid argument for the existence of God" because, if
he does not, he admits that God's revelation to man is not clear.
Here we have in mind God's general revelation to man
(although God's special revelation is perspicuous as well),
which is clear and clearly understood by all people. This point
is one that Classical approaches seem either to ignore or to
minimize in such a way that it does not function at all in their
apologetic approach.
This may be the case because the reality and universality of
God's clear, and clearly understood, revelation is a particularly
Reformed understanding of God's general revelation; it requires
a consistently Reformed theology. But, we should note, it runs
much deeper than that. It is a particularly Reformed approach to
God's general revelation because it is an incontrovertibly
biblical truth.
As we have seen in previous articles, Scripture is clear, in
Romans 1:18ff., that God's revelation, coming to us as it does
from the entirety of creation, both within and without us,
instills in all people a true and definite knowledge of God for
which we, all of us together, are accountable. This is what
Calvin called the sensus divinitatis. All people know God because
God's revelation to them is clear, and clearly seen (Rom. 1:19-
20). Not only so, but, in order to know God as he reveals himself
in and through all of creation it is requisite that we know
creation itself, and that we know it as created. This means that we
must and do know the universe outside of us, as well as
ourselves, as created, i.e., as dependent on the true God (whom
we all know). And we know these things because God reveals them.
The how of knowledge must begin with God's revelation, his
constant and universal revealing activity in and through
creation.
This biblical, Reformed, emphasis entails that any person to
whom we defend the faith is one who already and always knows
the true God, and they know God by knowing creation. Since
that is the case, any argument we give for the truth of
Christianity must take account of the knowledge that is already
given by God, and continues to be given, in and through all of
creation. In taking account of this God-given-and-giving
knowledge, we dare not approach those who oppose
Christianity as if they are not aware of such things. We speak
and defend the faith to image-bearers who know God. This
truth may not need to be stated to them explicitly, but it cannot
be ignored as we speak. We cannot take at face value the
unbeliever's diagnosis of his own condition. Neither can we
think that his "rationality" is neutral with respect to his
relationship to God, which leads to the second point in the
quote above.
We affirm that, "It is fatal for the Reformed apologist to admit
that man has done justice to the objective evidence if he comes
to any other conclusion than that of the truth of Christian
theism." This is a fundamental epistemological (how) point,
which itself entails the sensus divinitatis. After Scripture
establishes the fact that all people know the true God, it goes on
to argue that, as we remain in Adam, we always and
everywhere suppress the truth that God continually gives us.
Our suppression of that truth takes myriad forms, but, in
general, it looks something like this: one who is in Adam knows
but suppresses the fact that he is a creature of God, and thus
owes him worship. He also knows but suppresses what God
requires of him, and he knows that a failure to meet those
requirements results in death. Yet he persists in his
disobedience, and heartily approves those who join him in his
culpable rebellion (Rom. 1:32).
He approaches life, therefore, with a steadfast refusal to
acknowledge what he knows to be the case. Instead, he pretends
to be autonomous. He takes all that God gives and he seeks to
give it an interpretation that divorces itself from the One who
has given it to him in the first place, and on whom it, and he,
depend. So, for example, he is happy to observe the beautiful
colors of the trees in autumn, but he will not -- culpably will not
-- acknowledge what he knows is true, that such things have
their source and genesis in God's gracious and faithful covenant
promises to his creatures, and to creation. So, he knows, but he
will not admit that he knows. He affirms all that he can, as long
as his affirmations do not have God as their focus. He affirms
the trees, their beauty, the regularity of the seasons, etc., but
none of it, according to him, can come from, or reveal, the true
God (whom he actually knows via these things).
We might ask, using the Classical apologist's categories, how
do we know such things? What is the most basic epistemological
principle (principium) on which we depend in order to know?
We know things, of course, by observing them, by using the life
and breath that God gives to see them. But, more
foundationally, we know things because God, who alone is the
reason we can know his creation, connects the subject (the
person) to the object (the trees, for example). We know
because, by and through creation, God is revealing himself (and
thus, in knowing creation we also know God); and we know
them because, in establishing his covenant between himself and
man, God tied man inextricably to himself and to creation.
So, the how of knowing is as much dependent on God's activity
of revealing himself as the what is dependent on God's activity
of revealing himself as creator and sustainer. In order to know
correctly, therefore, we must affirm and recognize what God
has told us about the world and everything in it. Instead, when
we remain in Adam, we know, but refuse; we suppress the
central and crucial truth that provides our knowledge in the
first place.
We know that which we suppress. In order to suppress the
truth, you must first be in possession of it. In apologetics
(because in theology), we must recognize that man's every step,
in Adam, is a step of more and more suppression of the truth in
unrighteousness; he presumes upon the grace of God, taking
what God gives and twisting its meaning, giving it his own
perverted interpretation, pretending such things are "just
there" for the taking. This is man's view of the trees, the colors,
the seasons, and of everything else.
Next month, we will want to continue this discussion. For
now, we have tried to respond to the objection of a confusion of
what and how. The response to our objectors, put simply, is that
the same God who creates and sustains the what, is also
intimately, pervasively and continually involved in the how. We
only know because the One who knows is the One who reveals. I
can't imagine any more forceful, more basic, more rational
argument than that. Without that argument, people are left
only to themselves and their delusions. And if the history of
epistemology has shown anything, it is that the millennia-long
search for knowledge perpetually produces the same agnostic
answer, "I don't know." If that is true, then a good, rational,
argument for the Christian faith is that only in that faith can
one have true and certain knowledge.
K. Scott Oliphint is Professor of Apologetics and Systematic
 Theology at Westminster Theological Seminary. His latest
book is Covenantal Apologetics (Crossway, 2013)

Notes:
[1] Norman L. Geisler, "Reviews," Christian Apologetics Journal 11, No. 2, (Fall
2013), 172. We use this article as representative of a (so-called) "Classical"
approach to apologetics. It is not so much the author that we have in view
here, but the apologetic approach to which the author and many others
adhere.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Cornelius Van Til, Defense of the Faith, ed. K. Scott Oliphint, 4th ed.
(Phillipsburg, N.J.: Presbyterian and Reformed Publishing Company, 2008),
pp.126-27.

reformation21 is the online magazine of the Alliance of

Confessing Evangelicals.
 If God Cannot Change, Then
Why Should We Pray?
by: Bill Pratt
www.toughquestionsanswered.org/2013/12/27/if-god-
cannot-change-then-why-should-we-pray/

The Bible teaches, and theology argues, that God cannot

change. This is called divine immutability. But if God cannot
change, then why do we pray to him? After all, when we pray,
aren’t we trying to change God’s mind?
Norm Geisler answers this question in his Systematic Theology,
Volume Two: God, Creation. Listen to what he says:
God is omniscient . . . , and an all-knowing Being cannot
change His mind. If He does, He is not really all-knowing.
Therefore, God cannot change His mind in answer to prayer.
When we pray (or have prayed), God not only knew what we
were going to pray, but He ordained our prayer as a means of
accomplishing His purpose. Prayer is not a means by which we
change God; it is a means by which God changes us.
Prayer is not a means of our overcoming God’s reluctance; it
is a way for God to take hold of our willingness. Prayer is not a
means of getting our will done in heaven, but a means of God
getting His will done on earth.
If you think about it for a minute, we don’t want to change
God’s mind anyway. After all, who knows what is best? Us or
God? Geisler reminds us of why we should rejoice in the fact
that God is immutable:
Since God is unchangeable, we can trust His Word: “God is not
a man, that he should lie, nor a son of man, that he should
change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he
promise and not fulfill?” (Num. 23:19).
Also, we can trust God’s promises completely: “In the
beginning you laid the foundations of the earth, and the
heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you
remain; they will all wear out like a garment. Like clothing you
will change them and they will be discarded. But you remain
the same, and your years will never end” (Ps. 102:25–27).
Further, we can be sure of our salvation, because “if we are
faithless, he will remain faithful, for he cannot disown himself”
(2 Tim. 2:13). What is more, God’s immutability provides an
anchor for our souls: “Because God wanted to make the
unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of
what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. God did this
so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible
for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope offered
to us may be greatly encouraged” (Heb. 6:17–18).
Finally, we have a stable foundation for service. Paul wrote,
“Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move
you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord,
because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (1
Cor. 15:58).
God is unchanging and we can all give praise for that. I don’t
know about you, but I would have a hard time worshiping a God
whose mind I could change.
PART 2.
 Embracing Religious
Contradictions to Proclaim
Christ Crucified: Tolerance and
Coexistence
Article by Andy Wrasman
March 2014
Reformation21
www.reformation21.org/articles/embracing-religious-
contradictions-to-proclaim-christ-crucified-tolerance-and-
co.php

Diversity. Respect. Tolerance. Coexistence. These are buzz-

words for the twenty-first century. I remember the first time I
saw a Coexist bumper sticker, around 2004 in Irvine, California.
Coexist was spelled using symbols from various belief systems:
a crescent moon for the C, a peace symbol for the o,
male/female symbols were integrated into the e, the Star of
David for the x, a Wiccan pentagram for the dot of the i, a yin-
yang symbol for the s, and a cross for the t. I was mystified. I
thought it was ingenious. I had never seen so many religions
standing side by side to form a single word.
But what really floored me was the message itself. When these
bumper stickers first hit the scene, America was at war in Iraq
and Afghanistan. We had an openly Christian president who
commonly used religious rhetoric when discussing the war on
terrorism, and it couldn't be ignored that the men who hijacked
the planes on September 11 were Muslims. Some saw the
necessity to clarify that the hijackers were radical Muslims, but
even the addition of that distinction didn't take away from the
fact that America was attacked by Muslims on domestic soil or
that American soldiers were fighting against Al-Qaida, a Muslim
terrorist organization.
 In such a context, coexist, spelled with religious symbols, had a
significant message that religious disagreements have
unnecessarily caused much animosity and violence. As humans,
we ought to agree with the coexist sticker's call for peace. After
all, are we not better than the animals? As humans, we have the
ability to strive to live together in peace without hating each
other or killing each other over differences in race, culture,
sexual orientation, politics, or religion.
Trailing the coexist adhesive in popularity is the tolerance
bumper sticker. Tolerance is at the heart of successful
coexistence. By definition, the word implies that there are
differences within the world's religions, and that the tensions
caused by these differences must be resolved through
practicing tolerance.
This should not be misconstrued as agreement, as some might
interpret it. Tolerance is not agreement but a state of
allowance. We must first recognize that individuals have the
freedom of religious choice and expression. From there, the
necessity to tolerate conflicting religious beliefs must exist if
the preservation of human liberties is to continue. If we cannot
muster the will to tolerate opposing beliefs, we resort to
weeding out any belief other than our own. In the process, we
kill all freedom of religious expression.
The coexistence and tolerance movements must be applauded
for their calls for peace, but numerous people derive another
message from these stickers. I have spent three years talking
with students about their views on these two stickers at the
University of California, Irvine (UCI) in the campus's freedom of
speech zone. I have learned that many students think these
stickers also imply that all religions are the same at their core,
or that all religions lead to God. I have also learned that many
students agree with this view and care enough to spend hours
debating this position with me, even though I am a complete
stranger to them. I have to admit to them that the idea that all
religions are the same is a good sentiment. If it's true, there is
no reason why we can't all get along.
If all religions led to the same positive outcome, we'd be able
to move beyond simply tolerating religious differences to an
arms-wide, open embrace of all faiths. Such an open acceptance
can only be possible for someone who hasn't taken the time to
study the world's religions. The shortest of studies of the sacred
texts of just a few different religions would reveal
contradictions in their fundamental teachings. If two beliefs
directly contradict each other, both of them cannot be true, no
matter how "tolerant" we become. This means it is false to say
that every religion is true, or that every religion leads to God.
Logically they could all be false, but they cannot all be true.
Religious Pluralism Thrives in Ignorance
If one knows the basic history, teachings, and practices of a
handful of religions, it would be inconceivable for that person
to think that all religions are basically the same, or equally
valid and true. The problem is that many people do not know
what other religions believe, teach, and confess. Furthermore,
even many Christians are Biblically illiterate. The Pew Research
Center's Forum on Religion and Public Life conducted a survey
in 2010 to ascertain how much religious knowledge Americans
possess. A random sample of 3,412 adults were contacted via
phone and asked thirty-two religious questions. The average
score was 50 percent, or an F! The highest-scoring group was
the atheists and agnostics; they got 65 percent, or a D.
Mormons outscored Christians on questions about the Bible and
Christianity.
Among all respondents, 54 percent knew that the Qur'an is
the holy book of Islam. Fifty-one percent knew that Joseph
Smith was Mormon. Forty-seven percent know that the Dalai
Lama is Buddhist. Forty-six percent knew Martin Luther's role
in Christian history. Only 38 percent knew that Vishnu and
Shiva are connected with Hinduism. At least America passed
with B-level scores on the questions regarding that Mother
Teresa was Roman Catholic and that atheists don't believe there
is a God.
As long as ignorance is bliss and subjectivity reigns, religious
pluralism will continue to exist and even thrive. This isn't just a
problem relegated to those outside the church. Beliefs contrary
to God's Word are being embraced and practiced even amongst
professing Christians. Another poll by the Pew Research
Center's Forum on Religion and Public Life released in 2009
reveals that American Christians mix New Age practices with
their Christianity. Twenty-nine percent say they have been in
touch with the dead, 23 percent believe there are spiritual
energies in trees, 23 percent believe in reincarnation, and 14
percent have consulted a psychic.
Study and Teach Other Religions while Proclaiming Christ
Crucified
There are three actions the church can take to counter
society's current state of religious pluralism and religious
ignorance. First, individual Christians must make it a priority to
dialog with religious adherents to grow in knowledge of what
the spiritual influences are that oppose the message of Christ.
Second, pastors and teachers must find suitable times to
instruct their congregations and classes on the differences, as
well as the similarities, between other religions and
Christianity. Finally, all believers must hold unswervingly to
the Reformation theology that salvation comes by grace alone,
through faith alone, in Christ alone, by Scripture alone, for the
glory of God alone.
For the individual Christian to commence engaging in
conversation with those who adhere to other religious beliefs
and practices, the apostle Paul sets an example for us to follow.
While Paul was waiting for his traveling companions to meet
him in Athens, he passed time in the marketplaces. What he
saw there greatly distressed him (Acts 17:16). The Athenians
were very religious and had many objects of worship, and to
ensure that they didn't offend any god by lack of knowledge,
they erected an altar to "an unknown god" (Acts 17:23). Paul's
attentiveness and initiative to take note of the sacred practices
around him led him to be a great missionary. When given the
chance to speak with the men of Athens concerning Jesus, he
was able to connect their current religious zeal and
understanding of the divine to the true nature of God and the
resurrection of Christ. Paul even quoted their own poets in the
process (Acts 17:22-31). Many sneered at the gospel message,
but a few believed. Paul's public address might have never
happened if he hadn't taken the time to first learn what the
Athenians believed themselves.
To follow in Paul's footsteps, the pattern is simple: observe
the religious practices and beliefs in our local marketplaces,
gain knowledge of your audience's worldview, reason with
those who are willing to dialog, and share Christ through
addressing your audience's questions and concerns. We should
start in our neighborhoods, schools, and places of work. If you
find that your neighbor is a Mormon, read Mormon books that
open the door for you to ask clarifying questions. At the same
time, read books on Mormonism written by Christians that
provide Scriptural critiques of Mormon teachings and
practices. If your co-worker is a Muslim, acknowledge his
religious practices and seek ways to connect his belief system to
the Gospel, just as Paul connected the Athenians worship of an
unknown God to Christ. Watch movies, television shows, and
magazine racks to know what the culture is emanating
concerning the nature and will of God. These are the poets of
our day. Quoting such sources, just as Paul did, might aid in
connecting your audience's present worldview to the truth of
Christ. Even if there are no clear connection points to sharing
the Gospel, simply taking the time to learn the beliefs and
practices of others shows that you are not coming from a
position of ignorance and arrogance, but instead one of
informed judgment.
This process of growing in the knowledge of other religions
and using that information to share Christ with followers of
those faiths does not directly address religious pluralism. It is
however a first step. Christians must first know what other
religions teach to be able to show how they contradict each
other. Pastors and teachers can aid their parishioners and
students by setting aside time to teach what other religions
believe in comparison to what God has revealed to us through
the Bible. Similarities will arise and these can be used as
connecting points to present the Gospel of Christ. Stark
differences will emerge. Knowing these distinctions will protect
Christ's followers from falling into the deception that all
religions lead to God or that they are so similar it doesn't
matter what one believes.
Once a church body has grown in its knowledge of other
religions, pastors and teachers can equip their flock and
students with simple tools and phrases that can be adjusted to
address a specific religion in comparison to Christianity or to
demonstrate how Christianity cannot comport with religious
pluralism. For example, a simple conversation piece as the
following can be utilized to aid believers in sharing newly
gleaned information with others, "I understand that you
believe ___________, Christians hold a similar belief. We hold
similar beliefs concerning ___________, but we don't believe
___________. Instead, the Bible teaches _________."
The Hindu teaching of Brahman can be inserted into this
simple pattern. Hindus consider Brahman to be the divine
essence that is at the heart of all things in the universe. This
teaching ultimately says that there is only one divine reality
and that we are all one through it, thus all is divine. Christians
hold a similar understanding of Jesus's role in the universe
from Colossians 1:17, a verse that teaches that Jesus holds all
things together. This means that Christians recognize that all
things in the universe have come from God. However,
Christians reject that all things consist of God, because the Bible
teaches that God created the universe out of nothing by
speaking it into existence. Christians therefore disagree with
the Hindu understanding that all is divine. This does not mean
that we believe God is far off from us. Paraphrasing what Paul
shared with the men of Athens in Acts 17:28, "God is still at the
heart of all our lives; we have our being because of him, and he
determined the times set for us and the exact places that we
should live." In this way, Christians agree with Hindus that God
is at the heart of all things, but we certainly would not say that
all things are God. Therefore Christians don't worship what was
created, but rather, the creator. We take care of and appreciate
creation because of the simple fact that God made it and crafted
all things as a potter creates pottery.
Such an example that compares the Hindu understanding of
the divine with the Christian view demonstrates how knowing
the world's religions in detail can bolster a conversation with a
Hindu to show a level of respect by taking the time to know
what they confess. In addition, it can also be used to show the
contradictory teachings of the world's religions with a religious
pluralist. This leads to the final solution I offer for Christians to
pursue in order to counter religious pluralism: the
proclamation of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ
without compromise. Once we know what other religions
believe and teach, the work of Christ becomes uniquely
distinguished. Christianity stands apart as the only "saved by
grace" religion, as well as the only religion whose founder
claimed to be God incarnate. These two exclusive traits of
Christianity become great starting points for proclaiming
Christ by embracing religious contradictions when sharing the
Gospel.
To demonstrate the exclusivity of Christ's work, the Church
can boldly claim that Christianity is the only paid religion. It is
not a way of life; it is life given to you. In other words,
Christianity is not a system of moral rules that must be
followed or an arrangement of obligatory rituals. At its heart is
mankind's utter inability to adhere to God's standard, and our
universal need of God's grace, which comes to us through the
work of Jesus Christ alone. It is often said that Christianity is
the only free religion, or that it is the only religion in which
salvation comes through faith apart from works, but that's only
partially true. For sinful man's part, Scripture teaches that
salvation is freely given through faith in Jesus apart from
works, but for God's part, our salvation was not free; it came at
a great cost. Jesus paid dearly for our salvation.
All other religions can be classified as not paid. Humanity must
work to rectify our ultimate problem, which varies from
religion to religion. In Hinduism, we all must practice yoga as
the means of seeking union with Brahman. Our karma dictates
how well we are doing in that process, affecting the direction of
our rebirth. In Buddhism, our desires lead to pain and suffering.
To escape our suffering, we must follow the eightfold path. In
Islam, we must all submit to Allah and his coming judgment.
Our good works must outweigh our bad, and the best way of
ensuring we end up on the right side of the scales is to strictly
adhere to the five pillars of Islam and the teachings of the
Qur'an. In Jainism, killing anything, even a fly, restricts the
hope of escaping reincarnation. In Scientology, we must
partake in auditing sessions to detect engrams. Through many,
many audits, we can clear our engrams and scale the operating
thetan ladder to eventually reach our full potential of godlike
status. The beat goes on; it's the same pattern for all other
religions. Humanity has a problem (ultimately death) and we
can overcome it through our dedication to hard work.
Christianity sets itself apart as the only paid religion because
it is the only religion that is from God. It claims to be founded by
God in the flesh. Christianity teaches that God exists in three
persons, and that the second person of the divine Trinity
assumed a human nature and was born in this world as Jesus of
Nazareth. As the God-Man, Jesus was able to redeem mankind
from its sinfulness. Being fully divine, he was able to fulfill
God's standard of righteousness. Being fully man, he was able to
be tempted and die in our place. The death of Christ serves as a
vicarious atonement for all sins, past, present, and future. No
other religion can claim such divine redemption, because no
other religion was founded by God incarnate.
All other religions are from man. They were founded by people
who were merely human teachers, prophets, enlightened
beings, guides, or esoteric gurus. These men, and in some cases
women, took the revelations, knowledge, and insights that they
gleaned from their divine or spiritual source and shared it with
others, to guide them out of mankind's ultimate problem and
into the sole solution.
None of these founders could offer redemption free of charge.
All they could provide was the bill that needed to be paid and
the way humanity could pay it. Since these religions are the
products of man, their answers to mankind's ultimate problem
make sense in the system of our world from which they are
derived, a system in which our self-worth is dependent upon
our value to society. It's no wonder that the solution lies in an
individual's merit.
Religions are either paid or not paid. Christianity is the only
paid religion. Religions are also either from God or from man.
Again, Christianity stands alone. It is the only religion whose
founder was God incarnate. If the only religion that claims to
be from God is also the only religion that offers paid salvation,
then it seems reasonable that it actually is from God, since it is
completely different from everything that has been founded
from man.
Moreover, the religion that is from God adamantly refuses to
borrow from the religions that are from man. However, all the
religions that are from man tend to borrow from the only
religion that is founded directly from God. They do this by
incorporating Jesus into their religion, either through claiming
him as a prophet (Islam), a bodhisattva (some forms of
Buddhism), an avatar of Vishnu (some Hindus), or a good, moral
teacher (basically everyone). The exceptions are religions that
split off from Christianity or include Jesus centrally in another
way--Rastafarianism for example.
The gospel rings of truth, simply through presenting the
message of Christ side by side with the doctrines of other
religions. Today's pluralistic setting is no different from what
the early church faced in the Roman Empire. We know that it
was Christianized within a few centuries after Christ's
resurrection due in part to the church's founding fathers'
unwavering commitment to keeping the gospel preserved in its
entirety, unchanged by outside influences. The call is the same
for us today, to proclaim Christ crucified without compromise,
while reasoning and engaging the followers of the world's
religions and the religious pluralists through study,
observation, and reasoned dialog. Some might worry that such
exposure to false religions might lead one away from Christ, but
the gospel dispels such fears, promising that "the peace of God,
which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and
your minds in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:7).

Andy Wrasman is the founder of Contradict Movement

(www.contradictmovement.org) and the author of Contradict
- They Can't All Be True (WestBow Press, 2014). He
teaches World Religions and Apologetics at Crean Lutheran
High School in Irvine, CA.
reformation21 is the online magazine of the Alliance of
Confessing Evangelicals.
 An Understanding of the
phrase “He descended into
hell” in the Apostles’ Creed
By John Johnson
gospelpedlar.com/articles/Christ/descended.html

Apostles’ Creed
I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
the Maker of heaven and earth,
and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord:
Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost,
born of the virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, dead, and buried;
He descended into hell.
The third day He arose again from the dead;
He ascended into heaven,
and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father
Almighty;
from thence he shall come to judge the quick
and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Ghost;
the holy catholic church;
the communion of saints;
the forgiveness of sins;
the resurrection of the body;
and the life everlasting.
Amen.
 His Decent into Hell – descendit ad inferna
We come now to perhaps the most controversial portion of
the Apostles’ Creed. There have been three basic responses to
this phrase. The first is to simply omit it, believing that there is
no basis for truth we confess here. The second is to change the
phrase to “he descended to the dead,” making the argument
that the English word for “hell” has more to do with the abode
of the dead, than a place of suffering. The third, and perhaps
the most scandalous, is to recite this phrase by rote, without
giving any thought to the truth that lies behind it. It is my hope
that after today we will not do that.
As we consider this phrase in the Apostles’ Creed, there are
three matters I want you to consider with me: 1) the historical
background to the phrase; 2) the possible interpretations of the
phrase; and 3) the practical application of the phrase.

The Historical Background to the Phrase

A study of the history of the Apostles’ Creed reveals that the
phrase “He descended into hell” was a statement that was
added to the Creed around AD 390. “He descended into hell” is
not present in the earliest versions of the Apostles’ Creed, and
because of the spurious history of this phrase in the Apostles’
Creed, some denominations do not include it, and others
consider it an optional phrase that may be omitted.
The phrase “He descended into hell” appears to have been
added later in the church’s confessional life in order to answer
the question, “Where was Jesus while His body was in the
grave? What was He doing? What was His ministry?” It also
seeks to take into account and explicate four particular
passages which touch on the ministry of Christ after His death
and prior to His resurrection: the passage in 1 Peter 3:18-19,
and 4:6, which speaks of Christ preaching to the souls in prison
who are dead; Ephesians 4:8,9, which speaks of Christ
descending to the lower, earthly regions; and Psalm 16:9,10,
which says “You will not let Your Holy One see decay.” Peter also
quotes this verse in his sermon on the day of Pentecost in Acts
2.
As I said before, there are many people who are not
comfortable with this phrase in the Creed, and I even know of
one individual in another church who, when the Creed is
recited, refuses to say this phrase. Some people are
uncomfortable because of the spurious history to the phrase.
Others are uncomfortable because they don’t like the idea of
Christ going to hell. Still others are uncomfortable with the
phrase because they don’t like the idea of hell itself. Peter
Kreeft of Boston College has written that “Hell is certainly the
most unpopular of all Christian doctrines, and it scandalizes
most non-Christians.” (Peter Kreeft, Everything You Ever Wanted
to Know about Heaven, But Never Dreamed of Asking, Ignatius Press,
1999). The idea of damnation and eternal punishment is not
popular in our culture today, so some people reject this phrase
in the Apostles’ Creed because it offends their sensibilities.
However, we should remember that Christ talked more about
hell than He did about heaven. We should also remember that
the Bible says that it is because Christ experienced hell on our
behalf that we won’t have to, and therefore we can have hope
of an eternal future with God.
Although this phrase did not establish itself in the Creed until
the 4th century, and although it is not used by some churches,
and although many of us do not like any talk of hell, what this
phrase in the Creed says is of very great importance, and I
believe it can be a cause of tremendous hope, as we shall see.
Possible Interpretations of the Phrase
In my study of the phrase, “He descended into hell,” in the
Apostles’ Creed, I came across five different interpretations of
meaning which thoughtful people have suggested over the
years. Let’s take a moment to look at each one of them.
The first interpretation suggests that the phrase refers to the
preaching ministry of Christ mentioned in 1 Peter 3. The
suggestion is that the phrase means that after His death and
before His resurrection, Jesus went to hell and proclaimed the
gospel of salvation to those who had died during the Old
Testament era before His coming. Christ gave those who died
before His first Advent an opportunity to put their trust in Him
for salvation. This interpretation can also be called the “Second
Chance” alternative. Clement of Alexandria (c. AD 200), an early
church father, was one who held to this idea. The passage
reads,
 1 Pe 3:18-19. For Christ also suffered once for sins, the
righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God,
being put to death in the flesh but made alive in the spirit, in
which he went and proclaimed to the spirits in prison.
The second interpretation is a variation on the first, in that it
refers to the preaching ministry of Christ to the dead, but then
only to those who in the Old Testament looked in faith for His
coming, that is the prophets, patriarchs, and Old Testament
saints of Israel could respond to the Gospel. Irenaeus (c. AD 150)
and Tertullian (c. AD 200) were advocates of this position.
The third interpretation is what was known in the Middle
Ages as “the harrowing of hell.” The idea here is that Jesus
Christ did not so much descend to hell as invade it, that He
came as a conqueror, that He vanquished death, and that He
broke the iron bars of hell itself. He rescued the dead in Christ,
the saints, martyrs and prophets of old, and they gathered
around Him as the victorious king. Satan was conquered
forever, and he was committed to his own hell. The gates of
heaven were opened to the faithful, and in a vivid, dramatic
representation of the final triumph of Christ, victory was won
for the believer.
The fourth interpretation is that the phrase “He descended
into hell” simply means that Jesus Christ descended to the place
of the dead. This interpretation brings to light the fact that the
English word “hell” has changed in its meaning since the
English form of the Creed was established. The word “hell”
originally meant here “the place of the dead.” It is suggested
that “hell” in this sense corresponds to the Greek word Hades
or the Hebrew word Sheol.
To the Jews, Sheol simply meant “the land of the dead.” They
believed that the souls of all people went to Sheol, which was a
gray, shadowy place, in which people moved like ghosts. There
was neither light, nor joy, nor color there, and in Sheol people
were separated from God and each other. Psalm 16:10 says, “For
you will not abandon my soul to Sheol.” They viewed Sheol rather
like Ellis Island, a place you go to wait to be cleared to move on
to your permanent location. This idea is depicted visually in the
motion picture Fiddler on the Roof during the sequence called
“Tevye’s Dream.”
 Since the 16th century, however, “hell” has been used
exclusively to signify only the latter meaning. In this sense, it is
more closely related to the Greek word Gehenna, which Jesus
used on many occasions to describe the place of God’s eternal
punishment. The word came from the Valley of Hinnom outside
the city of Jerusalem, where, in the ancient days of Israel’s
history, children were sacrificed to the fire god Molech. When
Josiah, the king of Israel, discontinued the practice, he declared
the valley a desecrated territory, and it became the city garbage
dump for Jerusalem. Jesus used the metaphor to describe life
apart from God; it stinks; it smells; there is always a fire
burning, and it never goes out. That’s what hell is like.
What is suggested in this interpretation is that the Creed was
not referring to the fact that Christ went to the place of the
eternal punishment, but rather to the place of the dead. In
other words, it says that Jesus really and truly was dead. Other
scholars counter this notion and say that if that is what the
Creed means, it is simply restating what is said prior to this
phrase, that Jesus Christ was crucified, dead and buried, and
that is redundant. There is no need for the Creed to make this
statement.
The fifth and perhaps best interpretation says that the
phrase, “He descended into hell,” means that Christ bore the
penalties and the punishment of hell in our place. John Calvin
not only believed that Christ’s body was given as the price of
our redemption, but also supported this understanding of the
phrase, and has provided an excellent summary of this issue:
“But we must seek a surer explanation, apart from the Creed,
of Christ’s descent into hell. The explanation given to us in
God’s Word is not only holy and pious, but also full of
wonderful consolation. If Christ had died only a bodily death, it
would have been ineffectual. No — it was expedient at the same
time for him to undergo the severity of God’s vengeance, to
appease his wrath and satisfy his just judgment. For this reason,
he must also grapple hand to hand with the armies of hell and
the dread of everlasting death. . . .to bear and suffer all the
punishments that they ought to have sustained. All — with this
one exception: “He could not be held by the pangs of death”
[Acts 2:24 p.]. No wonder, then, if he is said to have descended
into hell, for he suffered the death that, God in his wrath had
inflicted upon the wicked! . . . . The point is that the Creed sets
forth what Christ suffered in the sight of men, and then
appositely speaks of that invisible and incomprehensible
judgment which he underwent in the sight of God in order that
we might know he paid a greater and more excellent price in
suffering in his soul the terrible torments of a condemned and
forsaken man.” (ICR, II, 16, 8-12)
Calvin understood the phrase metaphorically as referring to
Christ suffering the penalty of our sins, and that He
experienced the pangs of hell in our place.
Practical Application of the Phrase
What can we learn from our study of this phrase in the Creed?
I think there are at least three lessons that come to mind. First,
this phrase, “He descended into hell,” reminds us that creeds
are simply summaries of what Christians over the years have
understood Scripture to lead us to believe. Creeds are not on
the same par as the Bible itself, and they do not carry the same
authority. The Protestant Reformers, and in particular
Presbyterians, have always emphasized the truth that our
minds and our hearts can only be held captive by the Word of
God. Unless a matter is clearly spelled out in Scripture, there is
room for disagreement, and Presbyterians have always
emphasized the freedom of conscience in debatable matters of
faith. I like what Richard Baxter, the old English Puritan, once
said, “In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, and in all
things charity.”
A second lesson I think we can learn is that there is a longing
in each one of us to know the answer to questions of faith, but
in some of these matters the Lord has chosen to reveal these
things to us only through a glass darkly, as it were. There are
some phrases that are not crystal clear. There are some
passages that are hard to understand. I think that this only
reinforces that we can plumb the depths of our faith as
Christians for years and years and never reach the bottom.
There are some questions of faith for which we will never know
the answer until we get to heaven. There are some things about
which we can only speculate, and we must leave the ultimate
answers to God.
A final lesson I think we can learn from this phrase is that
when the Apostles’ Creed says, “He descended into hell,” we can
know that we do not have to go there because Christ has
suffered our hell for us. He bore our sins on the tree of Calvary,
and He endured the separation and punishment of hell itself so
that you and I wouldn’t have to. In the Heidelburg Catechism,
question 44, it says: “Why is there added: ‘He descended into
hell?’ That in my severest tribulations I may be assured that
Christ my Lord has redeemed me from hellish anxieties and
torment by the unspeakable anguish, pains, and terror which
He suffered in His soul both on the cross and before.”
Conclusion
When John Preston, another great Puritan, lay dying, he was
asked if he feared death, now that it was so close. He whispered
his answer, “No. I shall change my place, but I shall not change
my company.” It was as if he was saying I shall leave my
friends, but not my Friend, for He who died, went to the grave,
and even hell itself for me, shall never leave me nor forsake me.
What a comfort. What an encouragement.
 The Miracles of Christ
by H.P. Lidden
gospelpedlar.com/articles/Christ/miracles.html

The Proper Evidence of Miracles

But if the miracles of Jesus be admitted in the block, as by a
"rational" believer in the resurrection they must be admitted
they do point, as I have said, to the Catholic [universal] belief,
as distinct from any lower conceptions respecting the Person of
Jesus Christ. They differ from the miracles of prophets and
apostles in that, instead of being answers to prayer, granted by
a Higher Power, they manifestly flow forth from the majestic
life resident in the Worker. John accordingly calls them Christ's
"works," meaning that they were just such acts as might be
expected from Him, being such as He was. For our Lord's
miracles are something more than evidences that He was the
organ of a Divine revelation. They do not merely secure a
deferential attention to His disclosures respecting the nature of
God, the duty and destiny of man, His own Person, mission, and
work. Certainly they have this properly evidential force; He
Himself appealed to them as having it. But it would be difficult
altogether to account for their form, or for their varieties, or
for the times at which they were wrought, or for the motives
which were actually assigned for working them, on the
supposition that their value was only evidential. They are like
the kind deeds of the wealthy, or the good advice of the wise;
they are like that debt of charity which is due from the
possessors of great endowments to suffering humanity. Christ
as Man owed this tribute of mercy which His Godhead had
rendered it possible for Him to pay to those whom (such was
His love) He was not ashamed to call His brethren. But besides
this, Christ s miracles are physical and symbolic
representations of His redemptive action as tile Divine Saviour
of mankind. Their form is carefully adapted to express this
action. By healing the palsied, the blind, the lame, Christ
clothed with a visible form His plenary power to cure spiritual
diseases, such as the weakness, the darkness, the deadly torpor
of the soul. By casting out devils from the possessed He pointed
to His victory over the principalities and powers of evil,
whereby man would be freed from their thraldom and restored
to moral liberty. By raising Lazarus from the corruption of the
grave He proclaimed Himself not merely a Revealer of the
resurrection, but the Resurrection and the Life itself.
They Manifest Forth His Mediatorial Glory
In our Lord's miracles then we have before us something
more than a set of credentials, since they manifest forth His
mediatorial glory. They exhibit various aspects of that
redemptive power whereby He designed to save lost man from
sin and death; and they lead us to study, from many separate
points of view, Christ's majestic personality as the source of the
various wonders which radiate from it. And assuredly such a
study can have but one result for those who honestly believe in
the literal reality of the wonders described; it must force upon
them a conviction of the Divinity of the Worker.
A Miracle at Entry and Exit of Christ
But the miracles which especially point to the Catholic
doctrine as their justification, and which are simply
incumbrances blocking up the way of a humanitarian theorist,
are those of which our Lord's Manhood is itself the subject.
According to the Gospel narrative Jesus enters this world by
one miracle and He leaves it by another. His human
manifestation centers in that miracle of miracles, His
resurrection from the grave after death. The resurrection is the
central fact up to which all leads, and from which all radiates.
Such wonders as Christ's birth of a virgin mother, His
resurrection from the tomb, and His ascension into Heaven are
not merely the credentials of our redemption they are distinct
stages and processes of the redemptive work itself. Taken in
their entirety they interpose a measureless interval between
the life of Jesus and the lives of the greatest of prophets or of
apostles, even of those to whom it was given to still the
elements and to raise the dead. To expel these miracles from
the life of Jesus is to destroy the identity of the Christ of the
Gospels; it is to substitute a new christ for the Christ of
Christendom. Who would recognize the true Christ in the
natural son of a human father, or in the crucified prophet
whose body has rotted in an earthly grave? Yet on the other
hand, who will not admit that He who was conceived of the
Holy Ghost and born of a virgin mother, who, after being
crucified, dead, and buried, rose again the third day from the
dead and then went up into Heaven before the eyes of His
apostles, must needs be an altogether superhuman being? The
Catholic doctrine then is at home among the facts of the Gospel
narrative by the mere fact of its proclaiming a superhuman
Christ, while the modern Humanitarian theories are ill at ease
among those facts. The four evangelists, amid their
distinguishing peculiarities, concur in representing a Christ
whose life is encased in a setting of miracles. The Catholic
doctrine meets these representations more than half way; they
are in sympathy with, if they are not admitted to anticipate, its
assertion. The Gospel miracles point at the very least to a Christ
who is altogether above the range of human experience, and
the creeds recognize and confirm this indication by saying that
He is Divine[God]. Thus
The Christ of Dogma Is the Christ of History;
He is the Christ of the only extant history which describes the
Founder of Christendom at all. A neutral attitude towards the
miraculous element in the Gospel history is impossible. The
claim to work miracles is not the least prominent element of
our Lord's teaching, nor are the miracles which are said to have
been wrought by Him a fanciful or ornamental appendage to
His action. The miraculous is inextricably interwoven with the
whole life of Christ. The ethical beauty, nay, the moral integrity
of our Lord's character is dependent, whether we will it or not,
upon the reality of His miracles. It may be very desirable to
defer as far as possible to the mental prepossessions of our
time; but it is not practicable to put asunder two things which
God has joined together, namely, the beauty of Christ's
character and the bona fide reality of the miracles which He
professed to work.

The Divinity of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. H.P. Liddon.
Pickering & Inglis LTD. London, no date (Eight Lectures
Preached Before The University Of Oxford In 1866); pages 81-84.
 Moral Relativism and Ethics:
What is Truth -- and Does it
Matter?
By Kenneth Cauthen
Created: Friday, June 26, 1998, 10:38 AM Last Updated:
Tuesday, December 22, 1998, 5:23 PM
Copyright © by Kenneth Cauthen 1998. All rights reserved.
www.frontiernet.net/~kenc/truth.htm

ABSTRACT: Ethical beliefs have strong implications for how

we live. Beliefs about these beliefs have no necessary or
inevitable consequences for what we believe to be right and
good or for what we do in practice. My particular question is
whether relativism, which is a belief about beliefs, is an
adequate or workable foundation for ethics. I believe that it is.
Can relativism sustain high moral standards, moral passion,
courage, and commitment? I believe that it can.
A lot of debate takes place among philosophers today about
the nature of truth. Alas, it is a morass of arcane jargon,
technical analysis, precise definitions, and subtle distinctions in
which competing theories slay each other right and left. Most
of them mercifully vanish rapidly from the scene. Even the
more prominent among them disappear after their fifteen
minutes of epistemological fame leaving only the major efforts
to live in the history books.[1] While impressive as examples of
mental acumen, intellectual agility, and logical skill, the
products of these high-level exercises about which theory of
truth is most adequate have little or no practical value. They
help us not one bit in the routines of daily existence or in
making decisions about ultimate matters of meaning, morality,
and religion, not to mention their uselessness for generating
wisdom in the penultimate realms of economics, politics, social
policy, and culture. Is there a God? Does life have meaning and
purpose? What is the supreme good human beings ought to
seek? Should assisted suicide be legally permitted? All the
debates ever conducted on the correspondence theory of truth
versus its competitors stacked on each other never produced a
solution to a single one of these questions or to many other
subjects of importance, however interesting or entertaining
they may be as intellectual pursuits as such.[2]
What Matters and What Doesn't?
The more important question, then, is not which among rival
theories of truth is true but whether any practical
consequences follow from believing one theory of truth rather
than another. The thesis to be explored in this essay is that while
beliefs about reality and morality matter a lot, i. e., have practical
consequences, beliefs about these beliefs matter only a little or not at
all. To be precise, I am suggesting that beliefs about reality and
morality have practical consequences to the extent that people
actually live by what they believe to be true and right or at least
affirm that they ought to. We do not always live in accordance
with our beliefs, but frequently we do. In the sense, then, that
beliefs about reality and morality exert a strong gravitational
pull toward living them out in experience, they have practical
consequences. Again, to be precise, I am suggesting that beliefs
about beliefs do not have necessary or inevitable consequences
for the way we actually live. That they may have practical
consequences for some particular persons or communities is an
empirical matter and cannot be predicted in advance. These
qualifications should be kept in mind when the shorter and
unqualified form of my thesis is employed.
My particular interest in this subject is whether relativism,
which is a belief about beliefs, is an adequate or workable
foundation for ethics. Does relativism prevent us from
discerning and affirming those principles most productive of
justice and happiness for all? Can it sustain moral passion,
courage, and commitment to live by the highest and best we
know? Those who abhor relativism maintain that valid moral
judgments mirror the objective structure of reality. Right and
wrong are grounded in natural law or the will of God or some
other pattern in the very nature of things. Otherwise all sorts of
dire consequences follow. Not all criticisms assume the same
definition or apply to every type of relativism. Some of the
typical alleged defects can be listed. If moral claims reflect time
and place rather than grasp universal truths, ethics rests on
insecure foundations. If moral standards are nothing more than
a collection of disparate opinions, they cannot have a binding
or necessary claim on our allegiance. If moral judgments are
merely subjective preferences or expressions of feeling, no
appeal can be made to anything beyond that. Objective
judgments about right and wrong are undercut. Meaningful
debates about morality are impossible since there is no
standard beyond the opinion of the disputants to serve as a
basis for judgment. If moral values are relative to a particular
person or group and not universal principles grounded in
reality itself, no basis exists for calling people to a higher
standard than the one they now have. Hope for moral progress
is undermined. In fact, the very concept of progress is rendered
meaningless. Unless moral values are anchored to reality,
mirror something present in the nature of things, we cannot
say that some moral views are inferior to others. Two contrary
views could be equally valid, since valid only means that
somebody prefers it. Worst of all, relativism ultimately is the
equivalent of saying that might makes right since those who
have effective influence or the power of coercion determine
standards of behavior, beyond which no legitimate appeal can
be made.
In this essay I refute the view that relativism, as I use the
term, is corrosive of the moral life. I will argue that it matters
what people believe, but it does not matter what they believe
about belief. The content of belief has practical consequences. A
fanatic who is absolutely persuaded that God has authorized
the killing of enemies may actually slaughter people in acting
upon that conviction. But do any practical consequences follow
from whether that extremist has a correspondence, a
coherence, or a deflationary theory of truth or believes that
truth is the ideal ultimate outcome of rational inquiry? Or does
it matter whether the zealot in question is a relativist or an
objectivist? The crucial issue, then, is not whether beliefs about
reality and morality matter. They do. It is rather whether
beliefs about beliefs matter.
What is Relativism?
 It cannot be assumed that relativism means the same thing to
everyone. In fact, a variety of definitions can be found in
current usage, not all of which are compatible. Hence,
communication and argument require clarification of the term
and its alternatives. Three major types of views about the status
of moral beliefs can be noted. I will define my outlook in
relation to the other two. I intend to defend only my own brand
of relativism.
A. Objectivism
True moral beliefs correspond to and correctly represent
something objective in reality. They are valid in that they are
descriptive of something discovered in the nature of things.
They are not subjective creations but adequate and reliable
discoveries of something independent of the minds that
discover them. They are true whether anyone believes them or
not. Moral reality is what it is whether anyone knows what it is
or not in the same sense that the law of gravitation was in
operation before the law thereunto appertaining was
formulated by human beings. Our present beliefs may be
wrong, but further thought and insight may lead to better
knowledge. Some moral beliefs are right and true, i. e., put us in
touch with reality. Contrary beliefs are wrong and false, i. e.,
they misrepresent the way things really are. Some beliefs are so
obvious that we are justified in saying that they are true, e. g.,
torturing babies for the fun of it is wrong. About others we may
be unsure, but we can be certain that there is a truth objective
to us. We can pronounce rival views wrong in accordance with
the certainty with which we hold them. With regard to at least
some moral questions, relativism can be overcome or
transcended. Reason and/or divine revelation can unite us with
what is the case in the nature of things. Two points, then, are
essential to this position: 1. an objective moral order exists, and
2. on some crucial moral issues we can have reliable or even
certain knowledge about what the objective order obligates us
to do.
B. Objective Relativism
An order of truth, meaning, and value is real and objective to
us, but all actual systems of belief are relative to time and place
and can only be established and tested by methods and
standards internal to each outlook. We can never be sure that
our assumptions, methods, and conclusions capture reality. No
supreme court exists to adjudicate disputes among rival
perspectives. Any such court offers no transcendent or absolute
insight but only one more relative interpretation. The intention
is to describe and represent the objective order of things in our
theories and practices, but certainty about truth claims in the
realms of morality, religion, and philosophy in so far as these
involve high-level claims about the structure of things in
themselves eludes us. Reality is available to us only in some
version of it that is dependent on the perspective of the
interpreter and exists among others likewise relative to their
creators. We cannot definitively pronounce others wrong if we
mean that their beliefs do not correspond to reality. We can say
we believe they are wrong and act accordingly depending on
the importance of the issue. Objective relativism, then, is
objectivist about reality but relativist with respect to our
knowledge of that reality.
C. Subjective Relativism
Moral beliefs are expressive of the dogmas, customs,
convictions, beliefs, preferences, feelings, or attitudes of some
group or individual -- and nothing more than that. They do not
mirror an objective order of reality and have no validity outside
the minds of those who profess them. There is no objective
order of morality that can be used to judge among contrary
outlooks. Moral standards vary from one culture to another,
and no universal, absolute culture-transcending standards can
be employed to grade them according to their degree of
truthfulness. Whether moral beliefs correspond to patterns
within the nature of things independent of minds is not a
proper question. The moral beliefs people profess and act upon
have their origin and validity solely within the framework of
their creators and advocates. We can express and act upon our
own beliefs, preferences, values, and feelings in whatever ways
we choose to, including opposing contrary views. We cannot,
however, pronounce alternative ways of believing wrong or
inferior to ours if wrong means offensive to reality or
something other than being different from ours.
To summarize, objectivists are objectivists with regard both
to reality and least some moral convictions. Objective relativists
are objectivists with respect to reality but relativists with
respect to our knowledge. Subjective relativists are objectivists
with regard neither to reality nor to our knowledge.
This way of distinguishing between these major types of belief
about moral beliefs is mine. Obviously, various subtypes and
overlappings may exist. Others will want to revise them and
perhaps come up with a more accurate rendering of the actual
views held by our contemporaries. All I claim is that these three
types point in general to alternatives that in some approximate
versions are or could be held, with whatever modifications the
authors would care to make. They are in a sense "ideal types"
that may have a heuristic value even when not totally accurate
with respect to every particular outlook that falls roughly
within a given category.
Objectivist Relativism
Two issues need to be distinguished. 1. The first is whether an
objective order of reality, meaning, and morality exists in
independence of our beliefs about them. 2. The second is
whether we can have reliable or certain knowledge of this
objective order. The first question has to do with reality, while
the second deals with our knowledge of reality. Important
dividing lines between points of view turn on this distinction. I
am an objectivist on the first question but a relativist on the
second one. My objectivism, however, can only be justified
internally, i. e., in terms of the whole sets of beliefs I have about
reality. It is in these sense that I am a relativist. To put it
differently, I am a skeptic. I do not deny the objectivity of moral
standards. I affirm merely that we cannot be sure that there are
objective standards. Nor can we be certain what they are. We
can only assert what is compelling to us using the best methods
of inquiry available at any given time, but all methods and
conclusions are justifiable only within a particular point of
view. Relativism for me, then, means that we can discover and
test truth only by making use of the language and the resources
available to us in our time and place. This does not preclude the
possibility that these truth-finding, truth-testing procedures
may actually put us in touch with objective reality. We are,
however, left with the question of knowing for sure whether
and when they do or not. We cannot be certain on the big issues
of life, morality, religion, and death whether reality has been
captured or accurately represented in our categories or
whether we are mistaking a subjective conviction invulnerable
against doubt for objective truth.
I have no doubt that torturing babies is objectively wrong,
although this confidence guarantees nothing. The crucial issue
is that I passionately hold this belief. The remaining question of
importance is whether I am willing to act appropriately to
prevent the torture of babies in real life. My metaethical views
are irrelevant both to what moral standards I hold and to what I
do about them. It is in this sense that I deny that objective
relativism is disastrous for morality. My dispute with the
objectivists is not about whether moral standards are rooted in
the nature of things. I believe that they are. My reservations
have to do with the nature of our knowledge of those
independently existing values and principles. Of what practical
value is it to know or believe that moral values are rooted in
reality unless we have reliable knowledge of the specific
obligations incumbent upon us by virtue of that fact? Unless at
least some moral standards can be known with certainty, the
objectivists are no better off than the two types of relativists
when it comes to choice and action. It often happens that those
most insistent on an objectivist morality are also confident that
they know the truth about that order. Yet some, if not most, of
the fiercest disputes are not about whether morality is
grounded in reality but about what reality requires of us. An
objective relativist like myself can only conclude that the more
important question is not about the objectivity of morality but
about the certainty of knowledge.
Two objectivists screaming at each about abortion from
opposite extremes of the issue, each one certain that the other
is absolutely wrong, is not an edifying sight. Of what value in a
practical sense is their objectivism? It matters a lot whether
they take a pro-choice or a pro-life position in politics. It
matters not at all that they are both objectivists about morality.
Neither would it matter practically if one were an objectivist
and the other a relativist. Claiming to have certain knowledge
does not guarantee that one does. I agree that everyone ought
to act upon their moral beliefs and fight for them in every
appropriate way. But once I have decided that I am an objective
relativist, I am not obligated to do anything further. I may
choose to write articles and books about the subject and argue
with others about the issue -- and have fun doing it. But that
has little to do with anything practical that affects the quality
of life for the oppressed or the hungry or anyone else with real
needs. It is in that sense that I contend that our moral beliefs
and whether we act upon them matter greatly, but our beliefs
about those beliefs do not. More specifically, disputes on
metaethical questions matter only in theoretical thought as
distinct from practical life in which thought wrestles with
issues that demand choice and action and maybe the spilling of
blood when fundamental issues of survival and justice hang in
the balance.
To repeat, I am an objectivist with respect to reality but a
relativist with respect to knowledge. I affirm the existence of an
objective order of reality and morality. However, all claims
about reality and morality are made by some agent and hence
are relative to that particular socially-temporally-located
interpreter -- a society or an individual. Descriptions of reality
and prescriptions about right and wrong do not float down
from heaven while angels sing. They are created on earth by
people. Rival claims are tested by human agents. Societies and
individuals say what the world is like and what our obligations
are. Truths are pronounced by human beings, reflecting their
culture or their own peculiar personal slant on things. Errors
are specified by somebody, some individual, some institution,
or some group. Hence, all assertions about reality and morality
are relative to the interpreting agent reflecting a particular
cultural location in time and space. Neither human reason nor
divine revelation provides an escape from this predicament.
Believing that one or the other does settles nothing.
The decisive point is that the only access to reality we have is
through "interprience," i. e., some interpretation of the
experience of reality made by some interpreter.[3] Each
interpretive scheme originates in and is reflective of some
particular time and place. This does not necessarily mean that
one cannot be translated into the conceptual framework of
another. But they do differ in method and content from other
schemes produced by other groups, individuals, institutions,
sacred books, prophets, philosophers, or found on tablets of
stone alleged to be divinely authored. We cannot adjudicate
rival and contrary claims to truth by comparing them with
reality itself, since it is available to us only in some version
produced by some human agency. We need some experience-
interpretation scheme that is itself not just another version of
truth but truth-itself. That is exactly what we do not and
cannot have. No supreme court is available to make a final
resolution, since any court consulted has nothing to offer but
one more relative scheme. No escape from this epistemological
predicament exists, except in the minds of the more confident
who simply pronounce themselves to be in possession of the
truth about things, i. e., a correct interpretation, not just one
more relative effort. This is a victory over relativism by sheer
declaration.
Hence, a plurality of interpretive schemes compete for our
allegiance, each one dependent on some temporal-social
location and some human agency. Those who hold to one of
them may pronounce the others to be inferior or wrong, but
such pronouncements are themselves part of some interpretive
scheme and thus marked with the same kind of relativity as
those judged to be in error. One of them may actually have it
right, i. e., correctly represent or correspond with reality. Our
predicament is that we cannot know for sure which one that is.
Hence, we can only act on the one that is most convincing to us.
When confronted with moral perspectives that are different
from ours, we have two choices. (1) We can regard them as we
would tastes in art or wines or colors as merely different from
ours -- and maybe even abhorrent to us -- but not requiring any
other response other than possibly to appreciate the variety
that adds spice to life. (2) We can judge the differences to be of
such importance that we must contend for our beliefs in the
public arena against rival views, using whatever means are
appropriate to prevail against them. This is the ultimate
practical issue. To be paralyzed and unable to take a stand, act,
or fight for causes we believe in is neither a necessary nor a
responsible way to deal with relativism. In short, to say that all
interpretive schemes are relative is not to say that they are
therefore worthless or void of practical consequences.
The standard objection to relativism is that it of necessity
involves or leads to or is accompanied by assumptions and
claims that have to be understood in a non-relative way. The
simplest version of this refutation is that the assertion that all
points of view are relative implies that relativity as a point of
view is relative too and not a universal or objective truth. Put
differently, relativity to be meaningful and worthy of
consideration must be meant in an objectivist sense, i. e., as a
claim about things are they really are that logically excludes
contrary views. If true, the claim itself establishes at least one
objective fact and hence is self-refuting. If it is not true, it can
be dismissed. A variant maintains that any statement said to be
relative must unavoidably be supported by other statements or
principles or background assumptions that transcend
relativism and hence have a universal and objective status.[4]
The task of spelling out the case against relativism in detail
and of responding to it adequately is beyond the scope of this
essay. The notion that relativism is logically self-refuting was
made at least as far back as Plato against Protagoras
(Theaetetus). Versions of the notion that relativism cannot
establish the truth of its own position without refuting itself
have been made ever since. It is of interest that despite this
alleged mortal blow relativism lives even today. This may
suggest that at least some relativists are getting at something
that is not being refuted and that the critics are missing. My
present conclusion is that granting even the most generous
assessment of its validity, the case against relativism is not
sufficient to undermine its essential claims. Whatever
concessions must be made about the limitations and
qualifications of relativism, the central point that systems of
ethics and metaphysics can only be established or refuted by
the truth-finding and truth-testing resources available to a
given interpreter is not vitiated. If anyone thinks that the
Thomistic proofs for the existence of God can be proven to be
or not be in correspondence with reality, let that person come
forth with the procedures that can objectively accomplish this
feat. Any proposal made for this purpose will be rejected by
objectivists who hold contrary positions and regarded as one
more relative scheme by relativists. The essential question is
whether relativism can be refuted when topics like this are at
stake, not whether the affirmation of relativism is itself an
absolute claim that is not self-sustaining. Nor is the crucial
issue whether one must presuppose the rules of logic, freedom,
causality, the passage of time, that some things are better than
others, that some real things exist not presently being
experienced, that life is meaningful, and the like. I do agree
that principles of logic and perhaps some common-sense
presuppositions about the nature of the world must be agreed
to if any rational thought is to be carried on. Certainly no
principles can be affirmed if the affirmation is self-refuting or
denied if the denial by necessity presupposes them, but even if
one acknowledged that some such set of allegedly universal,
foundational beliefs cannot be rationally denied, that would not
not go very far toward a refutation of the form of relativism I
defend.
When Correspondence Theory Holds and When it Doesn't
Relativism applies especially to systems of morality, religion,
and metaphysics that point toward ultimate facts, values,
purposes, and meanings ingredient in the fundamental nature
of things. Within this context relative means dependent on and
limited by the inventory of truth-finding and truth-testing
resources available at a given time and place to a particular
interpreter. This does not necessarily preclude a given
interpretation from being true, i. e., in correspondence with
reality. The problem is that we cannot know for sure whether it
is true in that sense or not. Alfred North Whitehead in Process
and Reality may have given a correct picture in its main outlines
of the nature of the world and God as they really are. But how
can we know whether he did or not? Different judgments will
be made by logical positivists, Thomists, Hindus, orthodox
Christians, and so on. Each of these perspectives illustrates
relativity in the sense defined. They can make an assessment as
to whether the Whiteheadian cosmology corresponds to reality
only by using the truth-testing resources they in all sincerity
believe to be reliable. Hence, the relativism I defend resolves
finally into a form of skepticism that leads to a version of
pragmatism for resolution of questions of meaning, morality,
purpose, and metaphysical ultimacy.
In ordinary life, however, we can decide conclusively whether
certain assertions correspond with reality for all practical
purposes. If I say, "The broom is in the closet," it is possible,
once the terms and particulars of the case have been defined
and specified, to determine with certainty and finality whether
the broom meant is in the closet designated or not. It is not
necessary to spell out in detail what I mean, since anyone
reading this would know exactly what to do and what tests to
apply to determine the truth or falsity of the proposition and
would know what correspondence to reality means in this
context. After the tests have been made, a pronouncement can
be made with such absoluteness that we would say of anyone
who disagreed that they did not understand the situation, not
that the verdict was open to dispute. Let us grant that
philosophers have written long dissertations on the differences
between "words" and "things" and wondered just in what
respects they can be in correspondence, not to mention the
more esoteric questions about what the "broom" really is apart
from human language and conventions. This will not deter a
family member needing an implement to sweep out the garage
from being quite certain about whether the broom is in the
closet.
We could lay out a series of propositions ranging from
matters of simple facts in which the correspondence theory of
truth is perfectly serviceable to the final facts about ultimate
reality in which it becomes increasingly non-useful and finally
pragmatically irrelevant.
The follow list will suffice:
1. The Atlanta Braves won the Word Series in 1995.
2. The causes of the French Revolution were ...
3. Homosexuality is wrong.
4. God has a primordial nature.
5. God is one substance existing in three persons.
Proposition 1. can be decided absolutely in favor on the view
that it corresponds with the reality in terms that everyone
understands for all practical purposes. Proposition 2. is much
less open to finality and certainty. While relevant facts are
publicly available, the outcome depends on the assumptions
held by a given interpreter, how the evidence is weighed, how
many relevant facts are known, and much else. The moral
argument about 3. certainly involves facts, principles, and
values that are accessible to all interested parties and
intelligible to all rational people, although the outcome
depends on some frame of reference relative to the interpreter.
Followers of Alfred North Whitehead would maintain that
reason and experience can provide evidence relevant to the
determination of the truth of 4., but only those within the
Whiteheadian camp will be persuaded -- a tiny minority
illustrating relativity at its finest. Christians have typically said
that the doctrine of the Trinity is given in special divine
revelation and is not a truth that can be established or refuted
by reason, although it intends to describe objective Reality.
The point is that relativity has different meanings depending
on the context. It is negligible in 1., since anyone who
understands the meaning of the terms in this English sentence
can be persuaded of its absolute truth as a description that
corresponds with reality in a sense that ordinary people and
even philosophers when they are at home or off duty fully
understand. The sentence is simply true. Propositions 2., 3., and
4. depend on assumptions, methods of inquiry, weighing of
evidence, and much else besides reflective of particular
interpreting agents occupying different circles of
interpretation. Where one comes out depends on where one
stands and how one proceeds to reach conclusions. Universal
agreement about what is objectively true may never come
about regarding 2. probably not with respect to 3, and almost
certainly not with 4, Few, if any, would claim that 5. can even
be discussed apart from Christian traditions, documents, and
experiences.
I have written on subjects in theology, ethics, and philosophy
and developed an outlook at least in minimalist terms that is to
me convincing.[5] My intention is to describe reality as it is, to
lay out propositions that correspond with the objectively
existing state of affairs. Yet such is the depth of my
acknowledgment of relativism and my skepticism that I do not
find it useful to ask whether statements about God, the
meaning of life, and the moral obligations of human beings are
literally true or even approximately represent things as they
really are. Non-relativists who hold certain positions with great
confidence have no alternative but to say that those who
disagree with them are wrong. I am not prepared to say that
those who disagree with me on moral, metaphysical, and
religious matters are wrong. I just say I see it differently and
will act on my own convictions in appropriate ways, and that
includes opposing those who differ with means proportionate
to the seriousness of the issue. I also assume that every other
religious, moral, and metaphysical claim is no less relative in
principle than mine. Relativism, however, does not preclude
passion, commitment, and action in line with one's own relative
viewpoint. It ideally produces humility accompanied by acts of
love in the quest for justice and an openness to deeper insight.
Moreover, all claims about morality and religion can be tested
by myself and others but without certain or absolutely
conclusive results.The first criterion is theoretical. I can employ
the rational test of coherence (internal consistency with all
other propositions I affirm) and the empirical test of evidence
(adequacy in accounting for the full range of experience). Yet I
know that however successful I may be in applying these tests
of truth, the outcome is such that only one who stands where I
stand will see what I see. All I can say is that this is the best I
have been able to come up with so far. Methods of justifying
claims are internal to the point of view being tested and part of
it, so that no method provides a way of escaping the relativity
that marks all belief systems.
The second and most important test is practical. Is the outlook
useful in interpreting the whole range of my experience in an
adequate (rationally plausible) way and in providing guidance
in coping with life? When I live by what I find convincing as a
rational being, are the results satisfactory and satisfying judged
by the best standards available to me up to now as I continue to
learn and revise both my theory and my practices? One hopes
that learning, maturity, and experience will lead to increasingly
adequate and fulfilling ways of believing and living, loving and
hoping, thinking and acting. In the end I am a pragmatist who
in the presence of the ultimate questions abandons the hope of
knowing with certainty what the ultimate answers are.
Nevertheless, I find in my own outlook a way of thinking and
living more useful and productive than any alternatives
available to me at this time. Are my religious and moral
convictions literally true? Do they correspond with reality?
These questions are interesting but futile. It would be the
greatest miracle of all time if out of all the religions and
philosophies every produced on this earth, it turned out that
my own was the closest of any to getting it right, telling it like
it is, picturing objective reality so that the picture and pictured
are remarkably alike! I have a better chance of winning the
grand lottery at chances of a 100, 000, 000 to 1. Yet I must live
some way, believe something, hope for what seems most likely,
and die trusting it was not all in vain. I proceed, then, as a
relativist, a pragmatist, and a skeptic who employs
correspondence theory as far as it will take me, but beyond the
ordinary facts of mundane life, that is not very far, especially
when one enters the realms of morality and religion.
The Content of Belief and the Status of Belief
With this in mind, let me return to the original thesis. I have
distinguished between the content of moral judgments (beliefs)
and the status of moral judgments (beliefs about those beliefs).
[6] The former matters in that it is the stuff and arena of debate
between competing outlooks. The latter does not. Consider
three sets of propositions:
I Objectivism
A Gratuitous cruelty is wrong.
B We are obligated to prevent it wherever possible.
C The first two propositions are universally valid, objective
truths whether anyone believes them to be true or not. They
reflect something grounded in reality itself.
D I believe A and B and will live by them.
II Objective Relativism
A Gratuitous cruelty is wrong.
B We are obligated to prevent it wherever possible.
C The first two propositions follow from my philosophy of life,
but I have no way of knowing whether they mirror objective
reality or not. However, I believe that they do.
D I believe A and B and will live by them.
III Subjective Relativism
A Gratuitous cruelty is wrong.
B We are obligated to prevent it wherever possible.
C The first two propositions are valid only for those
 cultures and individuals who affirm them. They are humanly-
created values, no more.
D I accept A and B and will live by them.
For objectivists (Position I) A and B state objective truths, so
that anyone who denies them is just plain wrong, i. e., out of
tune with reality. Objective relativists (Position II) like me
would say that we believe that A and B are objective truths, but
we do not know for sure whether those who deny them are
wrong or not, but we will act as if they are. Subjective
relativists (Position III) maintain that A and B are opinions or
customs or feelings only, so that the question of objective right
and wrong is not an issue. For them right and wrong do not
exist somewhere in reality independently of subjective beliefs,
values, feelings, and preferences. Moreover, the subjective
relativist interprets obligation differently from the other two.
For the objectivists and the objective relativist obligation refers
to a felt necessity to be obedient to an order of rightness
grounded in the nature of things. For the subjective relativist it
is a self-generated or internalized felt oughtness to live in
conformity with ones own culture, convictions, feelings, or
preferences.
About this scheme I draw two conclusions:
1. C is not the same kind of claim as A and B. Put most simply,
A and B are beliefs. C is a belief about beliefs.
2. A and B matter (have practical consequences). C as such
does not (has no necessary practical consequences).
The question is whether some types of C belief about A and B
are essential to sustain D commitments. My answer is no. How
moral standards and commitments are generated and sustained
is a different question and is logically independent of beliefs
about beliefs. Of course, someone who holds Position III might
say, "Since moral standards have no grounding in reality, they
have no claim on me, so I will do whatever pleases me." That
choice could be made, but it does not follow logically as a
necessary implication of III C. An objectivist who agrees that
moral standards have a grounding in reality might also choose
to live a self-centered life just as the imaginary exponent of III
just mentioned. Augustinian Christian orthodoxy, an objectivist
position if there ever were one, says that in fact that is what we
in fact all do. We could, I suppose, argue about whether III has a
stronger gravitational pull in that direction or not, but it is not
a necessary implication of III any more than a belief in the
objectivity of moral standard guarantees a virtuous life in
accordance with the the universal, objective standards
acknowledged by the objectivist. I do not believe that holding
Position III is deleterious to morals, but I would be willing to
submit the question for empirical testing and would admit to
being wrong if the evidence refuted me. I would be willing to
bet, however, that if objectivists were found to live by different
moral standards, it would be for reasons other than C type
beliefs about A type moral issues. Furthermore, until refuted by
clear empirical evidence, I will insist that objectivism is no
guarantee either of superior moral ideals or of lives more in
conformity with professed standards than what is to be found
in the lives of relativists. I am not forgetting that I am a
relativist, so I readily acknowledge that any judgment about
superior morality is made from some point of view.
To make the point another way, I can imagine two
slaveholders, one of whom is an objectivist and the other a
subjective relativist. The objectivist might appeal to reason
(Aristotle) and revelation (the Bible) to show that slavery was
right by objective standards. The subjective relativist might
eschew that kind of talk and say simply that slavery is the way
we do things in this society, and he/she personally approves
and has very strong positive feelings about it. Likewise, I can
image two abolitionists, one of whom is an objectivist and the
other a subjective relativist. The objectivist might appeal to
natural law and to the highest principles of Scripture to oppose
slavery, maintaining that nature and God pronounce it wrong.
The subjective relativist might simply find it personally
offensive and repugnant, neither worrying nor caring what the
objective order of reality requires, insisting that life in a society
free of slavery is merely preferred by those who share that
preference.
It is not belief about the status of ethical beliefs that
determines either the content of moral standards or the
commitment to live by them. Moral choice is guided by
character, and character is a product of nature (genes), nurture
(family and culture), life experiences reflected upon, previous
choices, and the like. Someone reared in a warm, loving family
with clear moral values that are taken to be reflective of the
nature of things is not likely to abandon them after taking a
college course and converting to subjective relativism. That
might happen, but I suspect it would not unless other and more
decisive influences and events were at work as well. In any case,
I insist that the final test is empirical. Let us examine the moral
stances and actions of people and see if any consequences
follow from one set of beliefs about beliefs rather than another
or from changing from one position to another. I have my
opinions based on what seem to me rationally plausible
grounds, but it is not what we think but what actually occurs in
experience that is decisive.
Some Theses About Relativism and Ethics
The following propositions follow from what has been said so
far:
1. Universal agreement does not guarantee objective
rightness. If everyone agreed that it was all right to torture
babies just for the fun of it, that would not make it right.
2. The mere fact of disagreement, no matter how great, does
not disprove the theory of objective rightness. Hence, the fact
that a plurality of moral views can be found among various
cultures and among individuals within the same culture does
not in itself establish the truth of subjective relativism.
3. Objective relativism does not forbid me from holding that
views different from mine are wrong. I merely say they are
wrong from my perspective or that I believe they are wrong. If
relativism means that one idea, value, or practice is about as
good as any other, then I am most certainly not a relativist. My
intention is to make claims about morality and religion that are
true (correspond with reality), and some of them might be. But
my views could also be wrong. I believe that some courses of
action are objectively superior to others. But which ones? And
how do we know? These are the troublesome questions. To
answer mine is the right one, and it is right because I perceive
the truth correctly will not suffice, since that is, after all, what
the argument is about.
 4. Objective relativism denies that two contrary views can be
equally valid, but validity is always a judgment made from some
relative perspective. For subjective relativists validity, if used at
all, only means that some group or individual prefers or is
committed to or lives by a particular set of standards. Even
here two conflicting norms would not be regarded as equally
valid for them by the same group or individual.
5. In cases of genuine ambiguity, of course, two courses of
action might be equally valid in the sense that both will achieve
equivalent mixtures of good and evil, there being no preferable
third course of action available. For example, in a particular
instance getting a divorce or staying married may result in
equal amounts of harm and good, though perhaps distributed
in different ways. Here validity is judged by the same moral
principles representing one particular outlook. In a wider
context, a pluralism of values must be acknowledged that does
not allow a simple harmony among them or permit the
realization of them all simultaneously in absolute fashion. They
can be in conflict. Consider liberty and equality, freedom and
order, justice and mercy, and unity and diversity, for example.
The values in each of these pairs objectively considered
constrain and relativise each other. Sometimes, at least, to get
more of one, we have to have less of the other.[7]
6. Absolute subjective confidence in the validity of ones moral
beliefs does not guarantee that they correspond with reality.
Certitude about them is a basis for acting upon beliefs but is not
proof that they are in harmony with the nature of things. If
someone believed beyond the shadow of a doubt that torturing
babies for the fun of it was OK with the universe or God or
Reality or whatever, that would not make it so.
7. Objective relativism does not preclude rational debate with
objectivists about ethics. Discussion can include what makes
something right or wrong as well as particular matters of
morals such as abortion, assisted suicide, and affirmative
action. Contending parties can lay out their assumptions and
claims along with supporting evidence. Suspected errors of fact,
logic, and relevance can be indicated, debated, and refuted.
Circles of interpretation will exhibit various degrees of
overlapping along with divergence. The disputants can reach a
large measure of understanding about the basis for agreement
and disagreement. Sometimes persuasive argument will lead to
a revision of outlook. Perhaps some positions will approach
incommensurability with others, but the reasons for this
dissonance can be explored. What reason cannot do is mark out
a methodological path that if followed by all competent,
rational pursuers of truth will lead eventually to universal
conclusions that can be doubted only by defying reason itself.
[7]

Conclusion
My present moral beliefs rest on the assumption that we live
in the presence of a Divine Creativity that is the source of life
and that aims at the fullest possible actualization of enjoyment
for all living creatures. As I come better to appreciate who I am
and the meaning and purpose of my existence in the larger
scheme of things, I may change my mind about that and about
what obligations and duties are incumbent upon me. That
would matter, would have practical consequences. I could also
change my mind about the status of my beliefs and become an
objectivist or a subjective relativist, but I doubt if that would
matter much one way or the other beyond the fact of the
intellectual conversion itself.
Much philosophical discussion is concerned with getting the
status of theory correct and does not ask often enough what the
practical implications are. I, on the other hand, want to keep
asking one question: So what? What difference does it make in
experience? With William James I contend that if it does not
make a difference in experience, then the differences may be
interesting but not very important.
It may be prudent to be afraid of the BIG BAD WOLF. I
contend, however, that there is no reason to be afraid of the
BIG BAD RELATIVIST. In this case, the only thing we have to
fear is fear itself.

Endnotes
[1] For a good survey of philosophical options in epistemology
from Plato to Putnam, see Paul K. Moser and Arnold Vander
Nat, eds., Human Knowledge: Classical and Contemporary
Approaches (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987). So far as I
can tell, the main lesson to be learned from this splendid
volume is that for every cogent position offered, at least two
equally cogent refutations are generated, giving rise to still
further attempts to work out the difficulties thought to vitiate
previous efforts. For helpful Internet resources on moral
relativism, see Ethical Theory; Ethics; Relativism; Pluralism.
[2]The difference between a belief and a belief about belief is
not always clear. Consider these two statements. 1. What
cannot be known by scientific methods not only cannot be
known but is not real. 2. The preceding statement is true in the
sense that it corresponds to reality. I call 1. a belief and 2. a
belief about belief. Statement 1. asserts something believed to
be true (content of belief). Statement 2. affirms something
about the nature of truth (status of belief).
[3] It actually is more complicated than this. My view is that
at its base reality consists of nothing but experiencers and their
experiences. I am a panpsychist in the vicinity of the views of
Alfred North Whitehead. For any experiencer reality is what it
is experienced as. Hence, I am also close to the pragmatism and
empiricism of William James. Our interpretations of our
experience may be wrong, i. e., inconsistent with subsequent or
other experiences. Interpretations, then, are subject to
revision. A duck may experience a sound, interpret it to be
coming from another duck, and move in that direction only to
experience disastrous results when it turns out that the sound
was made by a hunter. An objective order is real, but it is not
easy to say what it is that is real other than to say it is what
some experiencer experiences it as and interprets it to be.
Apart from its being experienced, perhaps the best we can say
is that to be objectively real is the power or capacity to affect
something. See my Theological Biology: The Case for a New
Modernism (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1991), 65-120,
and Toward a New Modernism(Lanham, MD: University Press of
America, 1997), 116-24.
[4] See Thomas Nagel, The Last Word (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1997), and David Griffin in Varieties of
Postmodern Theology (Albany: State University of New York
Press, 1989). Obviously an extreme form of subjective relativism
that affirms that conflicting claims can be true, i. e., true for
those who believe it, is easily refuted. See Relativism
[5] For a complete list of my books, see Essays in Theology and
Ethics. For my ethical and metaethical theory, Process Ethics: A
Constructive System (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1984) is
especially important.
[6] For a long, convoluted, and unconvincing argument
denying the validity of this distinction, see Ronald Dworkin,
"Objectivity and Truth," Philosophy and Public Affairs 25, no. 2
(Spring 1996), 87-139. An online version can be found at
"Objectivity and Truth" by Ronald Dworkin. Dworkin insists
that to say that a statement corresponds with reality is just a
way restating, repeating, or emphasizing the statement itself,
not a logically different kind of statement. Take the following
sentences: Abortion is wrong. It is true that abortion is wrong,
it really is. The statement that abortion is wrong corresponds
with reality. According to Dworkin all these sentences mean the
same thing. The last one is not different in kind from the
preceding ones. Granted the surface plausibility of this, it
nevertheless assumes that to say something is true simply
means that it corresponds with reality. But there are other
definitions or assumptions about what true means. One could
say for example, that the statement that abortion is wrong
means simply that it is true for me that abortion is wrong, or it
is the way I feel about it or that it is more useful or beneficial
for society to view it in this way or that this is what my defining
community says about it, or that I believe it is true, but I am not
sure whether my belief corresponds with reality or not, or
reality does not define whether abortion is wrong, people do,
and so on. Truth as correspondence belongs in this category
and is one option among others for defining what truth means.
[7] Isaiah Berlin spoke of three propositions that have been
dominant in the mainstream of Western tradition: 1. All
genuine questions have one answer that is true for everybody,
everywhere, all the time. 2. A path leading to the discovery of
these truths is in principle available to everyone. 3. All truths
are compatible and form one harmonious whole. See Michael
Ignatieff, Isaiah Berlin: A Life (New York: Metropolitan Books,
1998). In part, it depends on what 1. means. If it means there is
no one perfect, conflict-free moral ideal absolutely valid for all
societies, I agree. There may be equally excellent but different
ways of organizing the plurality of values in line with 3.
However, there may be some universal truths about reality that
allow only one right answer, so I am not sure that 1. is
altogether objectively wrong. The problem is knowing what the
one true answer for all questions is. Hence, I agree
wholeheartedly in rejecting 2 in accordance with my
understanding of relativism. With respect to 3. as far as ethics is
concerned, I agree with Berlin in affirming a stubborn
pluralism that insists that not all moral values can be realized
simultaneously in individuals or societies without qualification,
conflict, or limitation.