For those who are interested, I now have an article published in the Heythrop Journal. It is called 'What does it mean to call God Good?' It can be found free to download here: https://doi.org/10.1111/heyj.14223

Why The Common Cup Should Be Used For Holy Communion

In these perilous times of Covid-19, questions are being raised in the churches of Christ concerning the proper means of distributing the cup in our Holy Communion Services. Some are advocating abandoning the common cup in favour of the baptist shot-cups. The purpose of this blog is to advocate the use of the common cup, as well as to why other traditional methods of distributing the sacrament should be observed. Although, this is not to comment on whether Holy Communion should or should not be conducted during times of plague, which is best left to the discretion of the local priest.  

Before we begin our discussion, it is necessary to state where we stand in regards to the nature of this sacrament. We deny the doctrine of transubstantiation, which claims that there is a real change of the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ. Equally, we deny the doctrine of the Zwinglians and baptists, who argue that the sacrament is nothing but a symbol and a reminder that Christ died for us; that there is no benefit beyond reminding us of Christ’s sacrifice upon the cross. Rather, we hold to the Calvinist position. The Calvinist understanding states that in the supper there is a promise, like there is in baptism - see here, which when grasped by faith brings benefits associated with the promise. 

We will illustrate the difference between the Zwinglian and the Calvinist doctrine, for there are those who claim that there is no difference at all. The Zwinglian understanding is like a man giving his friend a photograph by which to remember him by. The friend might have many happy thoughts when looking at the photograph as he remembers the man, he may remember things the man has done for him, or remember that the man has vowed to pay him some money and thus go to retrieve it from him, but here the benefits end, the photograph gives no benefit that pure memory and contemplation alone could not have given. Indeed, The Metropolitan Tabernacle church in London, which takes the Zwinglian position, during the Covid-19 period decided to ‘celebrate the Lord’s Table without the elements of the bread and wine’ by contemplation alone.

The Calvinist position, by contrast, is like a man who gives a lady a ring as a pledge to his devotion to her, and his care for her. The ring does serve as a memory of the man, but it also serves as a token of his promise. In a similar way, we say that within the institution of Holy Communion, God has given us a promise. This promise being that if we partake of the bread and wine with faith, we will receive the promises and benefits of the New Covenant. This is what Christ meant when He said, ‘This cup is the New Covenant in my blood, which is shed for you.’ Such benefits include spiritually feeding upon Christ and drinking His blood, and union with Him. 

With the Calvinist position in mind, we can make the following points as to why Holy Communion should be conducted with a common cup. 

(1) There are four recorded accounts in Scripture of Holy Communion (Matt. 26:26-29; Mark 14:22-25; Luke 22:15-20; 1 Cor. 11:23-25) In all of these accounts we can note that it is only a single cup (ποτήριον - neuter, singular, accusative) that Christ blessed and distributed to His disciples. This is made further clear from Matthew’s and Mark’s account which tells us that the disciples only drank from a single cup. (Matthew: Πίετε ἐξ αὐτοῦ πάντες Mark: ἔδωκεν αὐτοῖς καὶ ἔπιον ἐξ αὐτοῦ). The words of Scripture, therefore, give preference to a common cup being used; and in so much as we wish to remain faithful to how Christ instituted this sacrament we should use a common cup; after all, He could have very easily instituted the Holy Toast, with all the disciples clanking their own cups together.

(2) Communion represents not only that we are one with Christ, but that we are also all one with each other through Christ. (1 Cor. 10) The cup represents the one death of Christ that we all partake of. Contrary to the modern individualistic ideas of baptist theology, the church should be pleased to affirm her communal nature. The individual cups completely destroy the symbolism of the Lord’s Supper as the sacrament of union with one another, where the man in rags partakes of the same cup as the king in robes. 

(3) It introduces an irreverence to the sacrament, making the supper akin to drinking vodka at a boozy Russian party. I have always felt like crying out, ‘for Mother Russia!’ when partaking in a communion service that involves the shot cups.

Moreover, it means that the consecrated wine cannot be fully consumed. Now, it might be argued that since there is no real change of the bread and wine, it does not matter if the the consecrated wine and bread are left unconsumed. However, there is a good reason why we ought to show reverence to the consecrated bread and wine, even when denying the doctrine of transubstantiation. For if we take a Calvinistic position, then we are stating that the bread and wine are tokens, signs, and symbols of God’s promise. And it is for this reason they should be treated respectfully. It would be an insult to a man if his wife threw her ring into the bin can. Seeing that we treat these earthly tokens with respect, does that not give us reason to treat the heavenly ones with all the more respect?

(4) It is contrary to the tradition and history of the church. (The shot-cups were introduced to the church in the late 1800s by a baptist church in New York and became popular in the 1960s, especially with the rise of HIV.) While it is true that tradition is not on equal par with Scripture, we should also not completely disregard what tradition has to tell us. And if the church has practiced Holy Communion in a particular way for a long period of time, we should give second thought before easily disregarding it.

(5) Individual cups also lend themselves to a tendency to have the bread and wine passed around rather than requiring the congregates to come forward to receive the elements. There is a big disadvantage with this. It makes it more difficult to opt out of partaking of the elements, especially if you are known to have taken before. If the plate and cups are being passed around the church, it is noticeably awkward to avoid taking a piece of bread or one of the small cups, inclining one to partake even if they themselves are not yet ready, or even worse pressuring an unbeliever to partake. It is for this reason that we should be invited forward to partake of the feast rather than have it thrust before us. An added benefit of this is that congregates who do not wish to partake can be asked to cross their arms for a blessing, which cannot be done if the elements are passed around.

(6) The individualism the shot-cups bring allow for there to be multiple elements suited to the individual needs of the congregation. Churches with the shot-cups now conduct Holy Communion with several elements: wine, grape-juice, gluten-free bread, fair-trade bread, grape-free wine, and so on. Now, it might be argued that it is pharisaical to insist on using alcoholic wine and proper bread. We must, however, reject this claim if we are going to remain faithful to Christ’s institution. For it was the elements of bread and wine that Christ chose to symbolise His promise, and despite what we think about the inadequacies of these elements, dare we say that Christ was mistaken in choosing them? that He should have picked more suitable elements? 

But what about those who have an intolerance to bread or cannot take wine? To these people the following considerations can be given. 

Regarding the bread, fully gluten-free bread is made from potatoes and cannot be regarded as bread. Nevertheless, there are proper breads that have the gluten reduced. If the priest is in a church with congregational members who suffer from an intolerance to bread, then he could consider ordering such bread. Depending upon the intolerance, it may be the case that a nibble of the bread can be taken, or that the negative effects of the intolerance can endured as part of suffering for Christ. (Of course, no congregate should ever put their life at risk or do something that seriously threatens their health!)

Regarding the wine, the wine is often watered down, and therefore its alcohol content weakened. For those who claim to be alcoholics, since there is no physical impairments preventing them from taking the wine, but rather a weakness of the will, they should pray to God that their will be strengthened as it is their duty to be able to partake in the sacrament.  

Yet, if none of these solutions work, a congregant can take only one element. It has been the traditional position of the church that the full blessings of the sacrament can be received by partaking of just one element. What we should not try and do is disregard the elements that Christ has chosen because we think them as inadequate. 

Addressing Health Concerns

At this point the objection will come that the common cup is unhygienic, and that with the rise of new understandings of how disease is spread we should adopt the shot-cups as a means to prevent the spread of disease. I have two things to say in response to this. 

First, we should remember that the supper was instituted by Christ with a single cup; as such, the church has practiced a common cup for two millennia. By changing to shot-cups in fear of disease - when Christ could have easily instituted a holy toast - shows lack of faith in Christ and His wisdom.

Second, evidence shows that priests, who have to finish off the remaining communion wine, do not get sick or unwell more often than priests of churches that choose to conduct Holy Communion with shot-cups. If care is taken, proper wiping etc., then the health concerns of sharing a common cup are minimal.

This is not to comment on whether during times of plague Holy Communion should be taken or not, but only that a solution can not be found in using individual shot-cups, and that the shot-cups can neither be used for Holy Communion in any other circumstances.

Does the Doctrine of Divine Simplicity Identify God with a Property?

The doctrine of divine simplicity (DDS) says that God is not composed of parts or is in anyway divisible. This means that each of God’s attributes cannot be considered as separate individual properties, but instead have to be considered as all being identical to each other; God’s attribute of omnipotence is identical to God’s attribute of omniscience, and both of these identical to God Himself, etc. This way of understanding God was the position of the majority of the church fathers and medievals, as well as that of the compilers of the reformation confessions. 

The first article of the Anglican church states:

There is but one living and true God, everlasting, without body, parts, or passions… (39 articles, BCP)

Equally, the Westminster divines concluded in the second chapter of their confession:

There is but one only living, and true God: who is infinite in being and perfection, a most pure spirit, invisible, without body, parts, or passions…

There were strong reasons for why the church held to DDS. First, if God was composed of parts, then He could not be considered to be pure act, for any composite has the potential to be divided into the parts that compose it. This leads to the second concern with divine complexity; namely, that it would weaken God’s essential nature. God would have the potential to be separated into His parts; and even if this possibility is never actualised, it still weakens God’s essential nature as a being who can say ‘I am who I am’ (Ex. 3.14). Third, it would make God dependent upon His parts, as any composite is dependent upon the parts that compose it; for instance, a mosaic is dependent upon the individual coloured pieces that make it up. Fourth, complexity would entail that God is not the first of all things, for these parts would precede God, even if just logically. 

While these reasons have for many been convincing, especially if one rejects nominalism, contemporary philosophers have had serious doubts about DDS. The reason given that simplicity comes with too high a metaphysical cost to justify its benefits. One of the alleged metaphysical costs is that it would make God to be identical to a property. And since a property is inert and impersonal, and God is active and personal, God cannot be identified with a property and thus cannot be simple. Moreover, if God is one property, we would not be able to distinguish between God’s properties. However, since we can, God cannot be just one property.

A key proponent of this criticism is Alvin Plantinga, who lays out these criticisms in his paper 'Does God Have a Nature' (Marquette University Press, 1980)’. Plantinga says,

[God] doesn’t merely have a nature or essence; he just is that nature, … [and] each of his properties is identical with each of his properties…so that God has but one property.” But this “seems flatly incompatible with the obvious fact that God has several properties; he has power and mercifulness, say, neither of which is identical with the other. (pp. 46–47).

He further says,

No property could have created the world; no property could be omniscient, or, indeed, know anything at all. If God is a property, then he isn’t a person but a mere abstract object; he has no knowledge, awareness, power, love or life. So taken, the simplicity doctrine seems an utter mistake. (47)

What could we say in response to Plantinga’s criticism? The most common response is that Plantinga has misunderstood the metaphysics of those who hold to DDS. James Dolezal and Lawrence Dewan argue that a property is something that inheres in something imperfectly. (God without Parts, Pickwick Publications, 2011) All creatures have limited power, knowledge, goodness, etc. and so inhere these things as properties. God, however, has perfect power, perfect knowledge, and perfect goodness. This means that God does not inhere these things as properties but is instead identical to them.

The crux of Dolezal and Dewan’s argument can be explained as follows. No creature can be said to be identical to the attributes of power, knowledge, and goodness, since if they were identical to these attributes, then they could not be said to have these attributes in a limited way, which all creatures do. To explain this, let us consider what it is to be human. A human is identical to the human nature; this means that while humans can be more fully or less fully human - they might lose a leg or something, it can never be said that a human is less human. A human is a human in so far is it has the essence of a human, and they possess this essence in so far as they exist as a human. No human could be less than a human; that would be absurd. So, when I have imperfect knowledge within me, it cannot be identical to me but must inhere inside of me as something conceptually separate. This, Dolezal and Lawrence, argue, is a property. God, however, is identical with all His attributes and holds them perfectly. God thus does not inhere his attributes as properties; rather, God is the perfection of the attributes that creatures inhere as properties. Dolezal thus concludes: ‘We attribute to God the perfections but not the inherence’.

The way that this addresses Plantinga’s concern is that it allows for us to say God is not a property. This means that God can only be allegorically ascribed properties. Francis Turretin sums up gist this argument well: 

Attributes are not ascribed to God properly as something superadded to his essence (something accidental to the subject), making it perfect and really distinct from himself; but improperly and transumptively inasmuch as they indicate perfections essential to the divine nature conceived by us as properties (IET. 3.5.2)

If God is not a property, then it does not follow that God is necessarily inert and impersonal by being identical to His attributes. 

However, while this solution has the advantage of showing the difference between man and God and shows that it is wrong to say DDS makes God a property, it yet leaves how God is to be personal as unexplained and mysterious, nor does it explain how God can be ascribed different attributes. Of course, this mysteriousness does not exclude the possibility that God is a person. Nevertheless, there is a further response that can be given that makes things more clear. 

On the classical theist understanding, God is said to be pure act. Katherine A. Rodgers, by appealing to David Hume, believes that  understanding God as pure act can elucidate DDS. (Perfect Being Theology, Edinburgh University Press, 2000, p. 30.) Hume argued that we do not perceive our own properties; rather, we only perceive our own acting and experiencing as a result of these properties. So, I do not experience myself as a subject with the property of rationality; I only experience myself as thinking. The same can be said with power. I do not experience the property of power, but only its exercise in things. In other words, we only ever experience ourselves as acting, our acts. This experience of acting can serve as an analogy to how God is pure act. Additionally, we can do things that have multiple aspects to them. For example, by the single act of knowing that Anselm existed in 1033, I know various pieces of information: what existence means, what 1033 means, etc. Similarly, in one act God can be said to know all things. 

And since most theists believe that thinking is the same as acting within God, in knowing all things God can be said to be doing all that He knows. Hence, God in a single act is knowing all He does and doing all He does. It is in this way in which we can call God to be powerful and knowledgable, although in an allegorical way to how we predicate these terms in man.

Understanding God as act also helps us grasp in some sense the way we can call God personal. Of course, since God is fundamentally different to us in many aspects, existing outside of time, being immutable, the way we call God a personal can only be an allegorical predication. Nevertheless, a vital aspect needed for a personal relationship is interaction. I cannot have a personal relationship with a rock since a rock cannot interact and respond to anything I say or do to it. If God was a mere abstract property, then the same could be said of God - it is difficult to see how God could be interacting and responding to the things I do. However, if God is pure act, then God can respond and interact with me; from His eternal standpoint He can be acting to effect a change at t2 in response to something I do at t1; God can be acting to respond to my prayer at 12noon yesterday, and thinking/doing of the response at 12noon today.

Calvinistic Molinism

For a long time philosophers and theologians have been trying to reconcile God’s sovereignty and determination over the universe with man’s freedom and responsibility. Often, responses have been unsatisfactory by either favouring a strong version of God’s sovereignty at the expense of man’s freedom, or a strong version of man’s freedom at the expense of God’s sovereignty. In this blog post, I will offer what I term the Calvinist Molinist solution, which attempts to mediate between these two extremes. However, before we can discuss what Calvinist Molinism is, we first have to examine Molinism itself.

Molinism is the theological model, first put forward by sixteenth century Jesuit theologian Luis de Molina as a solution to solve the sovereignty/freedom conflict, and is popular amongst contemporary philosophers such as William Lane Craig. The way Molinism attempts to solve the sovereignty/freedom conflict is by postulating that, in addition to God’s natural knowledge (knowledge of all modal truths) and free knowledge (knowledge God has about contingent affairs), God also has middle knowledge, which is knowledge of how creatures would have freely acted in non-actual circumstances. God, the Molinist says, in light of what He knows via His middle knowledge, chooses to actualise the circumstances that would bring about a world where creatures have freely chosen to act in a way that is most pleasing to Him. The Molinist maintains that God only ever actualises the best feasible world. A feasible world is a subset of possible worlds that are limited by subjunctive conditionals of creaturely freedom (henceforth SCCs) - what creatures would freely choose in a given circumstance. This is in contrast to any mere possible world, which may include scenarios where God overrides the free will of creatures to achieve some end. The molinist argues that SCCs are brute facts, and not grounded in God, which they believe must be argued to protect the freedom of man. 

Molinism has been popular amongst theologians and philosophers as it allows for both God to remain strongly sovereign while also preserving man’s freedom and responsibility. It also provides a solution to the problem of evil in that the culpability for evil, at least moral evil, can be grounded within the free actions of creatures. However, Molinism has serious problems, challenging God’s aseity and sovereignty, the doctrine of divine simplicity, and faces trouble when faced with the ‘truth-maker objection’.

Molinism threatens God’s sovereignty because it suggests that there are contingent facts that God has no control over. God is simply confronted with SCCs which He is beyond His power to do anything about. And this is not only problematic philosophically, but also Biblically, for the Bible asserts that God is sovereign over all of creation. (Job 42:2)

Molinism has the additional disadvantage of threatening divine attributes that are seen as essential to classical theism. For a start, Molinism poses a threat to the traditional doctrine of divine simplicity. Divine simplicity argues that God’s act of willing is identical to God’s act of knowing, and that these are both identical to God’s being. The problem with Molinism is that God is affected by the objects of middle knowledge in a way that entails that His knowledge could not be identical to His willing. Molinism also poses a threat to divine impassability, since it entails that God is affected and changed by the facts of middle knowledge. Moreover, Molinism challenges the doctrine of aseity, which says that God alone is self-sufficient and that all other things depend upon Him; for Molinism claims that these facts cannot be dependent upon God. This again has not only a philosophical disadvantage but a Biblical one too, conflicting with Col. 1.16. Of course, one could reject these doctrines, but this is a high metaphysical cost just to adhere to Molinism.

The final problem with Molinism is that it is incompatible with the truth-maker principle, which states that for any true proposition P, there is some entity which bears and grounds that truth, by virtue of which makes the proposition true. What makes it true that Caesar was assassinated on the Ides of March is the fact of him being so assassinated. Similarly, what makes it true that there are bears in Russia is the fact of there being bears in Russia. Molinism, however, brings into question this principle, since there can be no entity that grounds the truth of SCCs. It cannot exist within the creatures, as they are yet to exist, and the Molinist argues that it cannot exist within the mind of God as this would conflict with man’s freedom. 

While those who hold to Molinism have criticised the truth-maker theory and have asserted that SCCs can exist as brute fact, we should hesitate before rejecting the truth-maker principle for the following reasons. First, truth-maker theory prima-facie is a self-evident theory, and we should not reject a self-evident theory for a less evident theory (Molinism) without good reason. Second, if we reject the idea of truth makers, we are left without an explanation of what it is that makes a given proposition true, and are thus lead into indeterminacy. Third, to reject the truth-maker principle would also bring into question the validity of the principle of sufficient reason; this principle itself has admirable prima facie plausibility and if rejected would, as said by Alexander Pruss, undermine science (The Principle of Sufficient Reason: A Reassessment, Cambridge University Press, 2006, p. 255.) and philosophical argument. ('The Leibnizian Cosmological Argument', in The Blackwell Companion to Natural Theology, 2009, p. 45)

Defenders of Molinism, such as Craig, have attempted to rebut this criticism by demonstrating that certain truths cannot have truth makers, which shows the truth-maker principle to be erroneous. (Craig, 'Middle Knowledge, Truth-Makers, and the Grounding Objection', Society of Christian Philosophers, 18(3):337-352, 2001) These truths are as follows:

(1) No physical objects exist. 

(2) Dinosaurs are extinct today.
(3) All ravens are black.
(4) Torturing a child is wrong.
(5) Napoleon lost the battle of waterloo.
(6) The US President will be a woman in 2070.

The problem with Craig’s counter-examples is that it relies on assumptions that are classically rejected by classical theists, such as nominalism and the A-theory of time. (2), (5), and (6) all have a truth-maker if we adopt a B-theory of time. (1)’s truth-maker can be explained by appealing to the totality of facts that exist, which includes the facts about the essences of things that exist within the mind of God and whether their potentialities have been actualised or not. This explanation, of course, is excluded on a nominalist account. (4) Can have a truth-maker, again by appealing to the essences of things. On classical essentialism, it is the essence of a thing that defines what is right or wrong for a thing to do. (3)’s truth-maker is also the essence that exists within the mind of God, which defines Raven’s as birds that are black. 

There is a lot more that can be said about truth-makers, but that is a subject for another blog post. Nevertheless, it should be clear that for the traditional classical theist, Craig’s counter-examples are not going to hold weight.

Given that Molinism has a high metaphysical cost, what might be offered in its place that overcomes these problems? I suggest Calvinistic Molinism. Calvinistic Molinism, instead of postulating SSCs as brute fact, instead argues that the SCCs exist within the mind of God as His thoughts. These SSCs are a result of our natures that first exist as essences, or blueprints, within God’s mind. Contrary to what the Molinist might say, it is hard to see why this ought to be taken as denying free will anymore than if the natures are just the result of some undetermined brute fact. Moreover, Calvinistic Molinism has the advantage that it can exist without conflicting with classical theism, and other intuitive principles while also preserving man’s freedom, since God’s sovereignty over the actions of creatures are not the direct result of His particular decrees. 

What might be said to be problematic with Calvinistic Molinism? Perhaps the biggest problem is that it makes the problem of evil more acute, making it seem to be the case that God is the author of sin. There are two ways that one could respond to this challenge. First, we might be able to say that while both God and y are equally responsible for creating s when y does sinful action s, they are not equally to blame. This is because blame attaches itself to intentions. We might be able to say, therefore, that the intention that God had for creating s was to promote the greatest good whereas the intention that y had was not but rather was to benefit himself, meaning that God is not blameworthy whereas y is. 

An additional response is to appeal to our inability to fully comprehend God and His influence over the world. It is wrong to imagine that the way God exercises control over His creation is similar to that of how a man has control over puppets. Instead, we should picture it as being analogous to how an author has control over the events of a novel. Within a crime novel, when the Butler murders Mrs White, we assume that the punishment that the Butler receives is just - we do not object because the story was determined and written by an author. In an analogous way, we can say that while God has control over His creation, the way He exercises His control is not one that violates man’s responsibility or makes God responsible for evil.

Why We Should Baptize Infants

In this blog post, I aim to offer a short defence of why we ought to baptize infants, albeit in a different way to how many evangelical presbyterians have chosen to argue. Instead, my own argument attempts to be more in line with how the early church fathers sought to support the doctrine of infant baptism, and thus have the advantage of historical unity behind it.

My defence begins with an examination of the nature of circumcision, in which I hope to show that circumcision had a dual purpose. The first purpose was to distinguish the Jews as God’s special people that God had set aside with a promised land and from whom God had promised the Messiah would come. The second purpose was to act as a sign and seal of the righteousness that is given by the Gospel offered through Christ. Next, we will then examine to see what link or similarity the old sacrament of circumcision has with the new sacrament of baptism. In doing this, we can shed greater light on the purpose of baptism and upon whom it is to be applied. 

That circumcision had a purpose of setting the Jews apart as God’s special people from whom the Messiah would come is clear in the Scriptures. In Genesis 17, God makes a covenant with Abraham and his seed regarding the land of Canaan. In this covenant, God promises to provide the Jews with a land and be a God to them so long as they keep faithful to Him. And this covenant was to last as long as their generations existed, which is until the destruction of the temple and the Jewish dispersion in AD 70. Until this time, we find God patiently and mercifully being a God towards the Jews, providing types and shadows of the coming Messiah, and prophets, such as Isaiah, who foretold of Christ’s coming. 

Yet, there is also a spiritual side to the sign of circumcision. We know this because of how St Paul expounds and explains the promise made to Abraham and the significance of his circumcision. In the fourth chapter of his epistle to the Romans, St Paul writes that circumcision was ‘a seal of the righteousness of [Abraham’s] faith’, and that Abraham had this righteousness because he believed on the promise of God (Rom. 4.3). The promise that St Paul is referring to is to be found in the twelfth chapter of Genesis where God promises that all families of the earth will be blessed through Abraham (Gen. 12.3). What is evident is that this promise is not fulfilled purely through Abraham’s natural prosperity as not all nations were descended from him, although many were; rather this promise is fulfilled through faith in Christ, who is descended from Abraham. Circumcision’s spiritual element is thus that it pointed to Christ and the righteousness that He provided. And this nothing but the promise of the Gospel. Indeed, this is confirmed by the Scriptures which state that through circumcision God promised to circumcise the hearts of his children, which is to say to make them righteous (Deut. 30.6; Jer. 4.4).

Since the spiritual element of circumcision was a Gospel promise, it had to be accepted by faith in order to be counted as effectual. If it was not accepted by faith, then as declared by St Paul in the fourth chapter of Romans, circumcision would be counted as ineffectual and count for nothing. It is for this reason St Paul rebukes the Jews who relied on their physical circumcision without faith in the spiritual side. Circumcision, then, was a means by which God offered the promise of the Gospel, which had to be accepted by faith; to reject this sacrament meant to reject the promise.

One at this point may argue that Abraham was circumcised posterior to his faith in the promise, so ask how can circumcision be the offer of God’s Gospel promise? Indeed, it was true that Abraham was circumcised posterior to his faith in the promise, but this was done so as to set an example to the children of Abraham and to declare that circumcision was indeed the sign of the promise. A parallel can be drawn here with the baptism of Christ. The reason Christ was baptized was not because He needed it but rather to set an example to all those who follow Him.

We can see then the clear dual nature of circumcision, there being a physical aspect and a more spiritual aspect. And that it was through the spiritual aspect that the grace of the Gospel was offered. So, what similarity does circumcision have with baptism? We are told by St Paul that baptism is the new circumcision of the heart. St Paul writes, ‘In whom also ye are circumcised with the circumcision made without hands, in putting off the body of the sins of the flesh by the circumcision of Christ: having been buried with him in baptism, wherein also ye are risen with him through the faith of the operation of God, who hath raised him from the dead.’ (Col. 2.11-12) Hence, whereas with the Old Covenant circumcision of the heart and all that which is signified by it is offered through circumcision, in the New Testament we find that it signified by baptism. 

That baptism offers the promise of salvation in a similar way that circumcision did is further attested by Scripture in numerous places. We find St Peter attesting in the second chapter of Acts that repentance and baptism are the means by which remission of sins and the gift of the Holy ghost is given. St Peter says, ‘Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.’ (Acts 2.38) And this is said in response to a question asked by the crowd present on how one is to be saved. If baptism did not save, can we suppose that the Apostle would have answered thus? Would we answer the same if we did not think baptism gave the remission of sins? Elsewhere, we find St Paul being exhorted by Ananias to wash away his sins through baptism (Acts 22.16). And in the third chapter of St Paul’s letter to the Galatians, St Paul argues that it is by baptism that we put on Christ (Gal. 3.27). It would do violence to this text to argue that St Paul here refers to another baptism, for he makes no such qualification. Besides, the Apostle writes similarly in the 6th chapter of his epistle to the Romans, where he states that through baptism we are buried with Christ. And there is no doubt that this refers to water baptism.

However, this is not to say that it is the mere act of baptism that saves; but like circumcision, baptism saves by believing the promise that is attached to it. St Peter makes this abundantly clear in his first epistle. After comparing the saving efficacy of baptism to Noah and the ark, St Peter clarifies his statement by stating that it is not the mere washing away of filth that saves us but an answer of good conscience towards God, which is made possible by Christ’s resurrection. (1 Pet. 3.20f) 

What we can see, then, is that just like circumcision, baptism is a promise of God that is offered to us, and that this offer ought to be accepted by us through faith. Now, if baptism is a promise that God offers to us, and not something that we do, then it should not matter who God offers it to, whether they are infants or adults. Our lack of faith, or anything we could do, does not make invalid the promise that God offers. Of course, God would not offer His promise to those who are incapable of receiving the promise He offers. Yet, there is no reason to think that infants cannot accept the promise that God offers through baptism. Rather, the Scriptures makes clear that quite the opposite is true, which can be easily demonstrated.

First, we told by the Scriptures that infants are in need of forgiveness of sins and the pardon of God just as much as everyone else. This is made clear by the Psalmist, who writes in the 51st Psalm that we are born sinful (Pslam 51.5). And all those who are sinful are in need of the pardoning grace that we have shown is connected to the sacrament of baptism. And, as John Owen states, if God denies the sign of baptism to infants, then infants cannot be saved. For those whom God denies His sign to, denies what is signified by that sign. Yet, since we know that infants can be saved, it follows that they ought to receive the sign through which God promises salvation.  

Second, we see countless examples of infants who express faith, and the expectation that infants can have faith. We see John the Baptist leaping in the womb of his mother, Elizabeth. We see the Psalmist write about infants whom have faith (Ps. 22.9-10, 71.5-6). Additionally, there are many statements by our Lord exalting the faith of children: He writes that we are to have childlike faith (Lk. 18.15ff), and that out of the mouth of infants God has prepared praise (Matt. 21.16); He tells us that we are to suffer the little children to come to Him and that to them belongs the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 19.13ff); He tells us that those who cause the little ones that believe in Him to stumble ought to have a millstone hung around their neck and be cast into the sea; and when speaking on the subject of repentance, Christ states that He has hidden it from the wise and given it to little children (Matt. 11.25). Moreover, we find St Paul speaking of St Timothy who knew the Holy Scriptures from a youth (2. Tim. 3.14-15), and giving exhortations to the children in his pastoral letters, which demonstrates that he considers them to be part of the church. (Eph 6.1-2; Col. 3.20)

If this is not enough to convince one that infants are capable of faith, then let us turn to how St Paul states in his epistle to the Philippians that faith is a gift from God and not something we provide (Phil. 1.29). For if faith is purely a gift from God, then why would he grant it only to adults and not to infants. What warrant do we have to state such a thing?

Since, then, it should be abundantly clear that infants are capable of faith, we lose all reason why we should not provide infants the promise of baptism which faith is meant to grasp on to. And that this should be the case in the New Covenant makes all the more sense once we consider the unchanging and loving nature of God. If infants are to be included in the Old Covenant, then we should expect that they would be included in the new, for the New Covenant is more inclusive than the old; it cannot be said that it shrinks to exclude those formerly included, without strong Scriptural warrant. But this is inconceivable, that God would move to exclude infants from His new covenant, when they were formally included in the old. 

This is why, since the time of the Apostles, who baptized whole households, to the present day, the church in large has always considered it good and pleasing to God to baptize infants.

Atonement and Union with Christ

A little while ago I wrote a critique of Anselm’s commercial theory of the Atonement. Since then, I have thought of another objection against a strict commercial understanding the Atonement. The objection is that if Christ’s death on the cross is just a literal payment of debt - the balancing of scales, then not only is repentance made redundant, as I said in my original blog, but we are also lead the position whereby union with Christ can play no part in Christ’s atoning work; for why do we need to be unified with Christ for Him to pay our debt? After all, I don’t need to be unified with a person if I am paying his debt or he is paying mine. 

Of course, one might deny that union with Christ has got anything to do with the Atonement. However, for many this is an unacceptable solution. Edwards, for instance, saw union with Christ as essential to how Christ’s atoning work is applied to us. He writes:

What is real is the union between Christ and his people, is the foundation of what is legal; that is, it is something really in them, and between them, uniting them, that is the ground of the suitableness of their being accounted as one by the Judge: and if there is any act, or qualification in believers, that is of that uniting nature, that it is meet on that account that the Judge should look upon ‘em, an accept ‘em as one, no wonder that upon the account of the same act or qualification, he should accept the satisfaction and merits of the one, for the other, as if it were their satisfaction and merits: it necessarily follows, or rather is implied. ('Justification by Faith', in Sermons and Discourses, 1734-1738, 158)

So, if we are persuaded, along with Edwards, that union with Christ plays an essential part in the Atonement, a commercial theory of it will need to be rejected. 

Is Feser Correct in Calling Hume's Fork Self-Contradictory?

In his blog post on the problem of induction, Feser accuses Hume’s argument against induction as being self-contradictory. However, I have heard a recent rebuttal that claims Hume's argument is not self-contradictory, like Feser claims. To see if Feser was correct in his analysis, let us turn to examine Hume and Feser's accusation of contradiction. 

Hume argued that induction can never be justified, since there are only two means by which something can be justified, neither of which works for justifying induction. The first way in which induction could be justified is via what Hume terms ‘relation of ideas’, and the second way is what he terms as ‘matters of fact.’

An example of a proposition that is justified as a ‘relation of ideas’ would be ‘all bachelors are unmarried’. What makes this proposition justified in terms of the ‘relation of ideas’ is that it is necessarily true by virtue of the fact that the term ‘bachelor’ logically entails the idea of ‘unmarried man’. Justifying induction in this way would require showing that there is a similar relation between the idea of x happening multiple times and an event y that always follows x. However, as Feser notes, there is no such connection; this because it is at least conceivable that an effect does not follow a cause, bread failing to nourish us for example, in a way that it is not conceivable to imagine a married bachelor. 

An example of a proposition known as a matter of fact would be ‘the British drink tea’. For the fact that this is true is not because of the idea that being British logically entails that one drinks tea (although it may seem like it), but rather because it is a contingent empirical fact that the British drink tea. To argue that induction is justified by matters of fact would mean that it is a contingent empirical fact that induction has been reliable and therefore should be justified. But, this is equally, if not more, problematic. This is because to infer from the fact that induction has been reliable in the past to the belief that induction is now reliable is to rely on induction and therefore argue in a circle, as it presupposes the reliability that is trying to be proved. Hume hence concludes that our belief in induction is unjustified.  

Feser argues that Hume’s fork is notoriously self-refuting, as the principle itself is neither known as a matter of fact nor is it true in virtue of its constituent ideas and known in terms of the relation of ideas. So, Feser says that Hume’s fork ‘is as metaphysical a principle as any Hume was trying to undermine with it, and its very promulgation presupposes that there is a third epistemic point of view additional to the two Hume was willing to recognize.’ He further argues that any attempt by Hume to salvage the fork from this criticism would also salvage induction.

As stated above, some have asserted that Feser has erred in thinking that Hume’s fork is self-refuting. The proponents of this criticism argue that Hume’s fork is actually justified in terms of the relation of ideas. They argue this due to their reading of Hume’s Fork as stating the truism that all propositions are either known a priori or a posterior, and their belief that this truism is justified in terms of the relation of ideas. 

Is this rebuttal any good? I don’t think so. For such a criticism has missed how justification in terms of the relation of ideas is understood by Hume, and as such has let the very point of Feser’s response slip under its nose. We can see this when we expand upon what Hume meant by the relation of ideas. In Hume’s thought, the kind of truths that are justified in terms of the relation of ideas are analytical truths. An analytical proposition is one where it is the definition of the antecedent that makes the consequence true; thus, ‘all bachelors are unmarried men.’ is true because the definition of ‘bachelor’ is ‘unmarried man’. It is for this reason that it can be known a priori. Feser’s point is that Hume’s fork is clearly not known because of any of its definitions that constitute it; and because of this implicitly assumes that there is a third way by which things can be justifiably known, and is hence self-contradictory. 

It is through this implicit third way of how we might justifiably believe something that induction could be justified. Other propositions that fall under this third definition could possibly include moral truths, truths about the external world, whether other minds exist or not, etc. etc. To argue, therefore, that all Feser is attacking is the self-evident truth that all propositions are justified either a priori or a posterior is to misunderstand Hume and to concede the very point Feser was trying to make. 

Anselm's Commercial Atonement - An Outstanding Theory?

There have been quite a few theories to explain the Biblical doctrine of the Atonement in church history. In this blog post, we will examine Anselm’s theory and see why it ought to be rejected.

Anselm argued that because of our sin we have brought great dishonour to God. Because of this, man had to either restore to God His honour that he had besmirched and offer compensation; or God would show that He was still Lord over man, and thus protect His honour by subjecting man to punishment. However, there was a problem. What could man offer to God as compensation? Anselm argued that man could only offer as compensation something that is not already owed by the person compensation is being paid to. But there is nothing man has that is not owed by God. He cannot offer obedience, as this is demanded by God. Nor could he offer repentance, as this too is demanded by God. What man could have offered was his life; however, Anselm says that man has forfeited his life through sin. 

This is where the need for the Atonement comes in. Because Christ was sinless, He did not owe His life to God as a debt and therefore could freely offer it to God as satisfaction. Moreover, because of the worth of a divine life, it was more than adequate compensation to cover the sins of the whole world.

There are many objections that can pitted against Anselm’s theory. There, is, however a common one that is no good. We will examine this first. It is said by some that Anselm is portraying God as a feudal monarch whose wounded ego demands some sort of satisfaction before he can forgive those that have offended His honour. The critics argue that it would be far greater if God magnanimously forgave the insult without demanding satisfaction. After all, are we not encouraged in the Bible to forgive those who have harmed us, even without reparations? 

However, this criticism will not work for two reasons. First, as has been noted by William Lane Craig (See his Cambridge Elements book on the Atonement), the fundamental concern of Anselm is not with God’s honour but with God’s justice and its moral demands. Indeed, sin is something that brings dishonour to God; yet, the reason why God cannot just overlook the offence is because it would be unjust to do so. Anselm says that if sin goes passed unpunished ‘there will be no difference between the guilty and the not guilty; and this is unbecoming to God.’ (I.12) It would make ‘injustice like God.’ The reason, therefore, why God cannot just compassionately forgive sin is because ‘such compassion on the part of God is wholly contrary to the divine justice, which allows nothing but the punishment as the recompense of sin’ (I.24). But how is it that justice determines what God does? Why does God, who is all powerful, not just ignore justice and forgive the injury done to Him? In response to this question, Anselm says that ‘There is nothing more just than supreme justice, which... is nothing else but God Himself.’ In other words, Anselm declares God to be justice itself, and God cannot be inconsistent with Himself. (I.12) 

Second, even if we grant the critics the possibility of God forgoing justice that He may forgive, this would not deal with the problem of shame. Now, there are some (See Stump’s work on the Atonement) that would claim that Anselm’s theory is not concerned with shame. I disagree. There are certainly implicit references to shame in his Cur Deus Homo (see Ch. XIV), and more explicit references in his other work: Anselm’s Meditations and Prayers make mention to shame. And this would make sense given the honour-shame culture Anselm was writing in. 

If God were to just forgive us without exacting punishment, then we would still feel ashamed. We would know that we had wronged God and His honour and had not done anything to make reparations. This would make it unbearable to dwell in God’s presence. The sacrifice of Christ allows us to offer to God something as a reparation for our sin and thus deal with the shame that we feel for having wronged God. And this is something that cannot be dealt with if God just forgives us without reparation, unless we adopt some counterintuitive position, such as God wiping our memories etc.

  

There are, however, real concerns with Anselm’s theory of the Atonement. To begin, Anselm's theory is viewed in entirely a commercial framework. What is unjust on Anselm’s theory is that there is a debt to be paid to God; God has been deprived of something that was His and justice demands that this is restored: ‘and this (what is just) is the sole and complete debt of honour which we owe to God’ (I.11 - Parenthesis Mine). This can be illustrated via the following analogy. Suppose that I steal £50 from Timothy. Now, on the restorative theory of justice advocated by Anselm, justice demands that I pay back Timothy the £50 that I stole and offer a bit more to make amends for the losses to him that were caused by my theft of the £50; as long as I restore and fix the damages caused, justice as been served.

Anselm is not without Biblical support for this ‘commercial view’ of the Atonement. Various Biblical passages liken the substitutionary atonement of Christ to debt or pecuniary payment. The Bible speaks of man being ransomed by Christ (1 Tim. 2.6), that man was bought with a price (1 Cor. 6.20), and that God removed the ordinances [which some interpret as debts] that stood against us (Col. 2.16). The question is how far are we to push this language? For pecuniary language can be used metaphorically, as when we speak of a criminal sentenced to gaol ‘paying for his crime’. So, are these verses to be taken literally, or metaphorically referring to some penalty or punishment that Christ had to pay? The issue with taking these verses literally, as Anselm does, is that God’s justice is then just concerned with the payment of debt — the balancing of scales — and not with condemnation being expressed against the act of the crime itself. In other words, Anselm’s theory fails to take into account the need for punishment for sin. Yet, there are many places in the Bible that portray the retributivist nature of God, and God’s displeasure at the act of sinning: ‘And I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked for their iniquity’. (Isaiah 13.11; c.f. Psalm 5.5) 

A further consequence of Anselm’s lack of emphasis on punishment is that it does not adequately take into account the need of Christ’s suffering on the cross. Anselm does attempt to offer a reason for why the suffering of Christ was necessary. Anselm’s reason is that because man fell so easily, it is only fitting that Christ suffer and pay compensation with difficulty. Although, it is not immediately clear how this follows. On the commercial view that has been presented by Anselm, it seems that what matters is that God’s honour is restored with compensation, and that this is done by offering something up of great value voluntarily - a divine life in the case of Christ. But how this is done should be irrelevant. Going back to our previous example, if I owe Timothy £50, plus compensation, what matters is whether or not the sum is paid, not how it is paid. (We will assume I am not breaking the law, like robbing a bank etc. in order to pay Timothy.)

Now, it might be said that it brings more honour to God if Christ offers up something with difficulty than not with difficulty. Indeed, it is a greater honour to me if a low value gift is given to me by someone who had to spend a great part of his income to provide for it, than if it was given to me by someone with great wealth for whom the gift was a mere drop in the ocean of his income. The problem with this, however, is that Christ is worth such an infinite value that the offering of His death alone would be enough to satisfy the honour of God, without the need for the death to be difficult and painful. To argue that Christ’s life is not enough unless He suffers with pain and difficulty undermines His infinite value. Moreover, close reflection reveals that the reason why we value those who do things for us that are difficult is because they chose to still do that thing for us despite the fact that the act was difficult, and not because the act was difficult per se. It brings me no greater honour if my friend decides to do me a favour and makes it purposely difficult for himself than if he just took an easier option available to him. If I ask my friend to buy milk for my fridge — because I am too busy writing an essay to go myself — I will not be more thankful to him if he chose to walk to the grocers three miles away when he could have gone to the grocers half a mile away. Similarly, if it was possible for Christ to offer His life up in a simpler, easier way, it is not more honourable if He chooses to offer His life with great difficulty.

Another problem with Anselm’s "debt" theory of the Atonement is that it falls prey to Socinian objections. Faustus Socinus, the leader of this movement and from whom it derives its name, forwarded the following two objections against a commercial view of the Atonement, in his work On Jesus Christ Our Saviour (1578). 

First, he argued that if we view the Atonement as a debt, then it becomes difficult to see why anything is demanded of us once Christ has paid it. If Christ’s death was the payment for sin, then why do we need to repent and profess faith in Christ? The debt has already been paid and I should be free to go to heaven without God requiring repentance. (Gnomes 1990, III.9) Going back to our analogy, if Daniel pays Timothy my debt of £50, then Timothy has no right to demand any more money in relation to this debt from me. 

Second, he objected that a purely commercial view of the Atonement weakens the love and forgiveness of God: if all the Atonement does is pay my debt, then there is no forgiveness on God’s behalf - it is just a balancing of the scales. When I pay a creditor my debt, he does not forgive me. (Gnomes 1990, III.9) Yet, the Bible speaks of God as forgiving our debts: in the parable of the two debtors, the debt is not paid but forgiven by the master. (Lk. 7.36-50) 

It is likely that it is because of these problems that Anselm moved away from pressing his commercial view of the Atonement too hard and instead, inconsistently, moved to argue that what Christ paid was not literally our debt and the compensation required; but rather that we are to view Christ as offering something to God that was not demanded of Him, and because of this, He gains a reward for His service, and that because Christ as part of the Triune Godhead is in need of nothing, wishes that God gives this reward to mankind in the form of absolving him of his guilt.

This understanding, however, does not fit in with the rest of Anselm’s system, viz. Christ became man to pay off man’s debt and restore honour to God. If Christ’s death is not a payment of our literal debt but an earning of a reward that can be applied to anyone, then it becomes irrelevant whether Christ was man or not. Why did God have to become a man for the reward to be passed onto man? We could also ask why this reward could not have been given to the fallen angels. Anselm argues that this reward cannot be passed onto angels because Christ did not take the nature of an angel. (Ch. II.19) But how does this follow? If I earn a reward for a service I do, surely I should be able to bestow it upon whom I like whether it be a fellow human being or my pet cat, Miaow. Of course, it may be the case that the reward is specific to a particular class. A reward of a new book is not going to be much use to Miaow - at least not in the sense it is intended to be. However, it is difficult to see how the reward of having one’s debt canceled is specific to any particular class. An angel can make use of this reward just as much as I can. 

Additionally, it is unjust that a debt that justice dictates must be paid can be forgiven because of an action, which is not the paying of this debt, performed by another person. Again returning to our analogy, if justice dictates that I should pay Timothy back my £50 I owe him, then it would be unjust for him to wipe this debt as a reward for something his loyal servant decided to do. 

As we have seen, then, while Anselm’s theory might have prima-facie Biblical support, for the Bible does speak of the Atonement in pecuniary terms, it has serious problems when examined at a deeper level. These problems mean that Anselm’s theory of the Atonement, as presented in Cur Deus Homo, is inadequate. There may be amendments that can be made to his theory to mitigate these problems, but it is beyond this blog post to discuss such attempts here or other theories of the Atonement that might be offered as an alternative.