Summertime

My grades are turned in.  I'm not sure yet how much of a difference that will make in my blogging life, but it will certain make a difference in my real life.  The rhythm of the academic life is one of the great benefits of this line of work as I see it (though certainly second to the opportunity to mold young and impressionable minds).  We professors work pretty hard (or at least we should).  I challenge anyone who thinks that twelve hours of teaching per week is cushy, to see what it's like to prepare to stand up in front of (at least some) bright students and have something meaningful to talk about for a couple of hours each day.  Of course disciplines differ in this regard.  In my discipline (the mother of all disciplines... at least according to us), the situation is compounded by the fact that we don't have ready-made lesson plans, problem sets, or laboratory exercises.  Philosophy is pretty abstract stuff, and it takes a good deal of coaxing (and bribing and threatening) to get students to read some old text and to think carefully about the nuances of it so that the classroom experience will be more than just the sound and fury of my own voice.  Then there is the grading.  Philosophy doesn't lend itself to true or false tests, so it takes some time to assess students' work fairly.  But enough of the pity party for me.  I turned in my last grades yesterday, and my contract says I don't have to report back until the middle of August.

Except that the philosophy professors have to write an assessment report on the major and get it turned in to the powers that be.  And I'm on two different committees that have regular meetings and side work over the summer.  And since salaries keep slipping further behind the norm, I signed up to teach a May term class in which we do a week's worth of work every day in order to cram a semester into three weeks.  And I'm under contract to write a book by the end of next summer, and so need to make some good progress now to avoid 60 hour work weeks next year.  And I've got a couple of new courses in the fall to prepare for.  Yada yada yada.

Still, summer brings a change of pace.  Just like I'd get pretty tired of living in a climate where the weather is always the same, I'd quickly become burned out in a job where the work is always the same.  And I generally like the stuff I have to do.  It is a blessing to be able to make a living doing something you enjoy.  

Philosopher Kings (or at least consultants)

My good wife has had a sore back for a few days. It came on pretty suddenly and seemingly without any clear precipitating event (like weeding the garden or juggling anvils). We have a friend from church who is a chiropractor, and he graciously worked her over on Sunday afternoon. After a couple more visits this week, she appears to be getting better. I've visited a chiropractor myself a few times--one that has been a fixture in my extended family lore for quite some time. On the continuum from legitimate, scientific-based healthcare to quack, he was probably somewhat further to the right. As a child, I was taken to the chiropractor--his name was Dr. Bender (no joke)--once to see if it would help with my bed wetting. I remember him twisting my head until I thought I'd have a role in The Exorcist. I don't know if it was the adjustment or the fear of having to see him again that cured me, but I'm happy to report that things are much better in that department now.

This post really has nothing to do with chiropracty or bed wetting, but I say all that to set up the conversation my wife and I had on the way home from the chiropractors. Her (legitimate) chiropractor said something about the adjustment possibly helping the mild case of heartburn she has too. So I joked that perhaps I should get an adjustment to cure my baldness. It really was just a joke, but it was tinged with the promises of chiropracty to which I had been subjected in the past. My wife joked back with, "I suppose it's really philosophy that could cure everything." "Yes," I retorted without any joking at all, "yes, I think the world would be a better place if everyone was subjected to more philosophy." Evidently someone was listening.

It seems that there is a tiny town in Italy that has created a position called "municipal philosopher." You can read all about it here. The first appointee to the position, Graziella Lupo, is available for consultations every Friday afternoon. According to the article, the aim of such consultations is to get the citizens of Corilgliano d'Otranto to think clearly, listen to each other, and ask questions that bear on the issues at hand. If you don't think that's a step in the right direction toward a better society, perhaps you're in need a of philosophical consultation yourself! The city has also set up an interactive Philosophical Park (if your Italian is passable, you can read about it here).

Of course not everyone is happy about this. There is a local psychology society that has protested, thinking that a philosopher consultant is trespassing on their turf. Municipal philosopher Lupo responded, "I don't think the college of psychologists knows what a philosophical consultant is... the work is not on emotions, but about ideas... Their criticism is in any case devoid of epistemological content."

Those of you who have read Plato's Republic will remember the prominent place that philosophers were accorded in his ideal city. I'm afraid politics today (and perhaps the politics of every age) is such that clear thinking and listening to each other won't get you very far. So I have no intention of becoming a philosopher king. But "consultant" has a nice ring to it. Perhaps I could band together with some of my colleagues and start a philosophy consultancy. Bring us your problems. We'll do a little conceptual analysis and determine whether your qualia are epiphenomenal.  We'll examine your life until it is worth living. 

Now taking appointments.

Philosophy Lecture Series

For about ten years now, my department has sponsored an annual Philosophy Lecture Series.  We keep waiting for someone to give us a boatload of money as an endowment so that it might have a more honorific sounding title (like the Gifford Lectures in Scotland or the Terry Lectures at Yale).  But so far they are just the Philosophy Lectures.  Even so, we've been able to attract some pretty big names, including Dallas Willard, Richard Swinburne, Alvin Plantinga, and Eleonore Stump (no relation, sadly).  Find a link to our series here.

This year's lectures are this week and feature the renowned evangelical philosopher, J.P. Moreland.  We expect that he'll be a pretty good fit for our student body, so we've expanded things to include a couple of chapel services, vespers, and a public lecture on Thursday night.  Moreland has been one of the big forces behind a resurgence in evangelicals studying philosophy, particularly at his Talbot School of Theology where they offer a seminary M.A. with an emphasis in philosophy.  Besides serious academic philosophy, he's written several more popular level books on the life of the mind and spiritual formation.  I commend them to you:  Love Your God with all Your Mind  (NavPress, 1997) and The Kingdom Triangle (Zondervan 2007).

Should Christians Study Philosophy?

With the start of school, my blogging has moved to the back burner (again).  To try to keep something going, I'm pasting a piece that I've written and started my philosophy courses with for several years.

It never fails.  I just start to feel like I’ll be able to connect with some new acquaintances on a level deeper than the weather and they have to go and ask what I do for a living.  “I’m a professor”, I answer—knowing that if there were any favorable impression created by this newly discovered fact, it will more than likely be shattered by the next one:  “Oh really.  What do you teach?”  Trying not to betray any of the trepidation I feel, I answer as though it is perfectly normal and everyone has a close relative that teaches… philosophy.

Now occasionally (by far the minority) people will respond favorably—those who have a good idea of what the study of philosophy is and why some might choose to spend their lives pursuing it.  These people show a genuine enthusiasm for what I do.  Their reactions put me at ease and we’re able to keep talking without my feeling like some kind of freak of nature that doesn’t fit into the “normal” world.

More typically, though, the next sentences of the conversation go something like, “Oh… wow… that must be really…uh… interesting.  Meaning of life and all that, huh?  [nervous chuckle]  Um…well…it was nice meeting you.”  All the while their eyes are scanning for the quickest escape route, and I’m mentally writing off another potential like-minded friend.

Philosophers having a bad rap is nothing new.  Several centuries before Christ, Plato wrote about his mentor Socrates.  Plato’s most famous book, The Republic, has Socrates notoriously arguing that philosophers should be kings of the ideal city.  His audience thought this suggestion to be absurd, for the philosophers they knew were all either vicious, horrible people who took advantage of others, or they were strange, head-in-the-clouds people who were useless to society.  These prejudices remain today in basically the same forms in many sectors of society:  philosophy is widely thought to be either a dangerous thing to study that will mess up your mind, or it is a pointless exercise with no relevance to real life.  I’d like to try to counteract these impressions and argue that it is worthwhile for everyone to spend some time studying philosophy.

The first accusation that needs addressing is that philosophy is dangerous and that it will mess up your mind.  Good-intending (but misled) Christians sometimes quote the Apostle Paul in Colossians 2:8, claiming that philosophy is based on human principles and will lead you away from God.  And while this is a poor interpretation of the verse (Paul had no qualms using philosophy in his speech on Mars Hill recorded in Acts 17), there are certainly some examples of this sort of thing happening.  Nietzsche, Rand, Foucault, and their ilk continue to seduce the eager minds of many with distorted reasoning and half-truths that have dire implications.  But the analogy might be made that automobiles are powerful, dangerous things too, and when they are misused the results can be catastrophic.  The potential for misuse does not persuade us to give up cars though; rather it should make us want everyone to be trained properly in their use.  The same is true of philosophy.  Ideas are powerful things, and when they are misused or accepted uncritically, there is the potential for danger.  This is all the more reason to be trained in philosophy or to “practice” using it sometimes so that we do use it properly when in counts.  Francis Bacon said several centuries ago, “A little philosophy inclineth man’s mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men’s minds about to religion.”

Some might still object along the same lines by pushing the automobile analogy further:  Accidents happen even among those who have been trained to drive and who are not consciously flouting any of the safe-driving skills they’ve learned.  So also there are “accidents” in philosophy, those who are sincerely pursuing truth, but become atheists.  So these objectors might ask, “Shouldn’t the possibility of such a thing happening keep us from studying philosophy?”  This kind of question should not be taken lightly, but I might first answer, “Does it keep us from driving cars?”  No.  But even beyond this, there is a distinct disanalogy between driving accidents and philosophical “accidents”.  The latter do not just suddenly and irrevocably occur.  You can see them coming.  There are clearly marked warning signs on the way to abandoning faith.  It is only when these are ignored that one drives unaware into danger.  It should be part of a philosophical training course to learn to recognize such signs.

Yes, there is power in philosophy.  But it is a power that we should learn to use for the benefit of the Kingdom.  It has always been the strategy of the enemy to pervert what God has intended for good.  If we give up philosophy merely because some use it for bad, then all there will be is bad philosophy.

The second accusation to be countered is that philosophy is a pointless, academic exercise with little or no relevance for the real world.  I think this is probably the more common misperception—and certainly the more dangerous, because unlike the first it doesn’t acknowledge the power that ideas have.  On this view, philosophers are seen as people who can’t get their noses out of books, who are unskilled at managing practical affairs, and who have no effect on real life.  The usual defense by the pro-philosophy folks is to further highlight the premise of the first accusation, that ideas are powerful, that they have consequences not only on the large scale that grabs attention, but on a personal level too.  If we don’t chose to reflect on the values we unconsciously imbibe from our culture, we’ll be swept along in its value system.

                I think this is an important and correct response to the objection against the irrelevance of philosophy, but it is still very much at the theoretical level.  To give the kind of response that would satisfy the objector, something even more practical must be presented.  I believe this practical defense is to be found in the meaning of the word philosophy itself.  ‘Philosophy’ comes from the two Greek words “phileo” which means love (of the brotherly sort, like Philadelphia) and “sophia” which means wisdom.  Philosophy is the love of wisdom; philosophers are lovers of wisdom.  OK, so what is wisdom and why do philosophers love it?

Wisdom is not the same thing as intelligence or knowledge.  One need not be wise in order to win on Jeopardy or Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?  Wisdom is better described as a kind of general capacity for making good decisions in a variety of circumstances.  If I have knowledge, I am in possession of a lot of facts; if I have wisdom, I know what to do with those facts in order to have a good life. 

                If there were formulas or rules that worked unfailingly for all of life’s situations, then perhaps wisdom wouldn’t be required; all we would need is knowledge of the set of rules that is to be followed and the ability to follow them.  But more often the changing circumstances we find ourselves in show that the general rules that have been laid down fail to account for the nuances of particular situations.  My wife and I have found this to be true in the raising of our three boys.  The same parenting techniques and rules we used for the first child did not work the same for the second and third kids.  While it is easier to follow blindly the laws of the latest how-to manual, using wisdom mandates that we look at situations individually and make good decisions.  Of course for practicality’s sake there must be some general principles that guide us in making decisions, but it is a human tendency to turn principles into laws, the following of which becomes more important than the principles behind those laws.

We in the church are just as guilty (and perhaps more) of desiring rules and formulas that are supposed to infallibly guide us into a holy life:  don’t go to rated-R movies, don’t listen to secular music, don’t drink or smoke, etc.  Or even on the positive side:  have your quiet time every day for at least 30 minutes, pay a tithe of 10% to your church, witness to your neighbor about your faith.  The problem with such formulas is not that they are bad principles, but rather that they engender a kind of holiness that is attained by checking off a list each night to see what I have and have not done.  The Pharisees discovered that it is a lot easier to run through a checklist than to really be holy.  Jesus said he came not to abolish all those rules but to fulfill them.  Following rules is not bad in itself, it is just bad when it becomes our desire to follow rules rather than to become what the rules intended for us to become.  Even the new “rules” that Jesus brought in the Sermon on the Mount are not meant to be formulas that are blindly followed.  Rather, they are principles that are carefully designed to teach the essence of what it means to be a follower of Christ:  loving God and loving neighbor (including enemies).  If these are not to be taken as new legalistic codes, then we must exercise wisdom in knowing when and how to apply these general principles.  This is the business of everyday life, living out the gospel in my own community. 

So if the study of philosophy is the love of wisdom, then it seems immensely practical to my everyday life.  It can help to provide tools for thinking through a situation that is slightly different from the one for which I have a general principle; it teaches me to be thoughtful and to reflect on my beliefs and my actions; philosophy charges me to seek out the good life.  Now of course philosophy is not the only source of wisdom.  In fact it is not the first source of wisdom that should be pursued.  The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Ps. 111:10).  Any lover of wisdom should start there.  It is those who don’t whom Paul is criticizing in Col. 2:8.  But beyond that, there must be room in the practice of Christianity to exercise our minds, to bring our worldview to bear on philosophical issues, to examine the formulas by which we have been living.

Now, I am not suggesting that all Christians need to go to graduate school and get Ph.D.’s in philosophy.  I hope some do, for the church needs all the help it can get in thinking carefully and wisely about the big questions in life.  But beyond the professionals in the discipline, all Christians should study at least a little philosophy in order to understand and evaluate the ideas we are bombarded with all the time, and to aid in their pursuit of the very practical virtue of wisdom.  If you do, there will probably be people who think you are wasting your time doing this.  And there will be others who think you are playing with fire.  And you too might have to get used to people looking at you like you have two heads when they learn you are a lover of wisdom.

Where can we talk about this stuff??

The last three days I've been teaching some sessions out at Prairie Camp, south of Elkhart.  The topic was supposed to be apologetics, and in a sense that is some of what I did.  But I suspect that it is not entirely what they had expected.  Because it is usually my approach to challenge and provoke my audience rather confirm what they already believe.  So after an introductory session on Monday (co-taught with my friend Chad), on Tuesday the topic was truth.  And although I upheld the necessity for defending a notion of truth as a description of the way things are independently of what any of us think, I also claimed that it gets more complicated.  For instance we do make truth ourselves in the form of social realities -- say the rules of soccer -- and that there are some blurry lines between social realities and this supposed independently existing reality.  I tried to explain all this in smaller words using lots of examples, and for the most part the crowd was with me.  Then today I ventured into the dangerous swampland of science and religion as different sorts of explanations.  I assumed that most of them had been exposed to this only at the sound byte level, and I realized that I couldn't get pushing too hard or I'd lose them.  So we talked about interpretation of the Bible and gave lots of examples where scientific theories don't conflict with theological explanation, and I made an impassioned plea for us to take science seriously and not to indoctrinate our children that science is evil.  Everyone was a little bit more cautious today, but again ultimately seemed to track with me.

After the session there was a parade of people coming to talk one-on-one.  The first lady said her grandson was starting to read Buddhist literature and wondered what I would say to him.  The next person wondered if I thought the Camping guy who predicted the end of the world was a false prophet.  A couple of others came and made speeches to me about their pet theories of the hidden meanings of the Bible.  But there were also a couple of more meaningful conversations I had with people.  One woman told me about her son who graduated from my institution, but has gotten fed up with the institutionalized church because it is mostly about country club politics.  He's really interested in these deeper questions, but literally has no one to talk to about them.  It seems that most of our churches do not encourage questions and instead hand out pat answers to questions that aren't really being asked by thoughtful people.

Ouch.  Where can we talk about things that we wonder about?  Doubts that creep in?  Frustrations we have?   In my humble opinion, the church needs to cultivate such spaces.  For many people, if we just keep these bottled up inside, they will one day spill out in fully formed abandonment of faith.  

Philosophy of Religion

This book, co-edited by my friend Chad, was just released. It is a very significant volume, containing 64 brand new introductory essays on lots of topics in the Philosophy of Religion by such luminaries as John Hick, Bill Craig, Kai Nielsen, Merold Westphal, and other famous philosophers you've never heard of. It represents an enormous amount of work on Chad's part, and I'm very proud of him. It is only in hardback at the moment, and so carries a hefty $160 price tag from the publisher. Amazon will have it shortly for $100. They expect a paperback in a few months (and if sales are strong, perhaps a movie adaptation thereafter).



To celebrate, I'm taking him to see the Bourne Ultimatum tonight. Nothing says "congratulations on your new academic work in philosophy of religion" better than going to an espionage thriller blockbuster movie! (Showplace 16 at 9:50 in case you'd like to join us.)