Heads up on my recent article over at Ref21, which discusses the seventeenth-century Welsh poet George Herbert's poem “Sunday,” with hopes of being led through a contemplation of the joys of worship toward doxology itself. The thing about Herbert is that he embodies the fact that one can be both evangelical and sacramental, biblical and liturgical, reformational and catholic. So, why is he all but unknown?

Read the whole thing.

In response to this great article on Keith Mathison’s Shape of Sola Scriptura over at Called to Communion, an interesting discussion has emerged revolving around the tu quoque—certain folks are arguing back that Catholics are in no way on better ground epistemologically. That is to say, the Catholic position and subsequent argument against the non-Catholic positions can be applied equally to the Catholic making the argument. Slightly related to this issue, in my opinion, is the question of epistemological certitude, which I perceive has deep roots within the Called to Communion crowd. After all, once having swum the Tiber (or any conversion, for that matter), who wouldn’t want to consider those newly held beliefs with 100 percent certainty?

In this modern age, we all face the so-called “heretical imperative.” As Peter Berger put it in his book with the same title (and I paraphrase): Plurality of alternatives is the core of the modern experience. If there are no options, then what is can be interpreted as what must be; in the modern condition, there’s less and less of what must be. Fate becomes choice. Destiny becomes decision. In short, we are all forced to choose.

And this is why, in nuce, the argument proffered in the review of Mathison’s book suffers from the tu quoque fallacy. But it suffers from something else too. A pinch of hubris, or, rather, an overextension of what can be known with certainty, for the sake of cognitive rest. It seems to me all too convenient for the Catholic to suggest that his own private judgment led him to accept the authority of the Magisterium, which authority then grants him the knowledge that “there are no options" (or, in the words of Bryan Cross [comment #46]: "he discovers a living divinely-appointed authority, and that discovery then shapes his theology"). But once that leap has been made “what is can be interpreted as what must be.”

This is tantamount to sticking one’s head in the sand, so far as I can tell.

Now, this line of reasoning might not be useful at all, but for the sake of argument, let’s say I become Catholic in the next five years or so. In no way could I in good faith speak of my journey to Rome in the same manner that those folks (or at least a few of them) over at Called to Communion do (for the very reasons proffered above). It presumes a kind of epistemic certainty that to my mind is impossible to achieve before the return of the King.

Berger sums up nicely what I'm getting at here:

As Christians we believe in the resurrection of Jesus Christ and in his glorious return. But that glory is not yet. The triumphant Christ is still coming; we are still in the aeon of the kenotic Jesus—the self-emptying Jesus, who humbles himself by taking human form. The church, while it announces the coming triumph (indeed, that is the core of its message), still bears the marks of Jesus’ kenosis.

Epistemological modesty, he suggests, is part and parcel of bearing the marks of Christ's kenosis. I'll conclude with a final thought from Berger in an interview published in The Christian Century (29 October 1997, pp. 972–78):

The basic fault lines today are not between people with different beliefs but between people who hold these beliefs with an element of uncertainty and people who hold these beliefs with a pretense of certitude. There is a middle ground between fanaticism and relativism. I can convey values to my children without pretending a fanatical certitude about them. And you can build a community with people who are neither fanatics nor relativists.

My colleague Adam Seligman uses the term "epistemological modesty." Epistemological modesty means that you believe certain things, but you're modest about these claims. You can be a believer and yet say, I'm not really sure. I think that is a fundamental fault line.

So, here we are: a mellow synthesis of skepticism and faith. I realize the epistemic can of worms this may open for some—Catholics and non-Catholics alike. But this defines the religious affirmations of my journey for most of my life, and yet I believe—more strongly and exclusively Christain than Berger allows for himself. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night otherwise, flailing between the fact of modern pluralism, hyper-rationalistic solipsism and epistemological immodesty.

On to Props 9–10. I realize this can be pretty boring stuff, at least the way I've presented it, so thanks for taking the time to read along. (I'm writing a lot of other stuff right now and am feeling a bit lazy.)

Proposition 9: The seven days of Genesis 1 relate to the cosmic temple inauguration

— confirmed by the divine rest on the 7^th day (and divine rest only takes place in temples).

— The number “7” is a predominant theme in ANE temple texts and in the Bible; in Gen 1, it implies temple inauguration

— Creation, only if it’s an account of functional origins, fits like a hand in glove with temple inauguration (88). Just like a temple is made functional at an inauguration ceremony, so too was creation, the cosmic temple, made functional during its (7-day) inauguration ceremony and when God took up residence in his rest. This “creates” the temple (not its material construction).

— Could Gen 1 have served as liturgy for the temple inauguration (or even used during a yearly reenactment of cultic worship)?

— Whatever the case, we see that the nature of the days is not very significant if this is not an account of material origins. The days are obviously 7, 24-hour days. “This has always been the best reading of the Hebrew text” (91).

— The day-age view or any other view that fools with the clear meaning of the days is on thin exegetical ground. Trying to resolve scientific evidence that the earth and the universe are very old with the creation account of Gen 1 is faulty from the start (“concordist”). Fancy interpretations result when this narrative is seen as an account of material origins, for literal 7, 24-hour days of material creation are obviously irreconcilable with scientific evidence.

Proposition 10: The seven days of Genesis 1 do not concern material origins

— But why can’t it be both? Functional and material? Well, does the text allow for it?

— (1) days 1, 3, 7 don’t mention the creation of any material component;

— (2) the firmament in day 2 potentially mentions a material component, but no one actually believes today there’s a solid construction up in the sky to hold back the waters. If this was to be taken as a description of material creation, we’d then be forced to explain the material creation of something that does not exist. But the Hebrew word for it had a very specific meaning in Israel’s cosmic geography. This component of “Old World science addresses the function of weather, described in terms that they would understand” (95);

— (3) Days 4 and 6 have material components, but they’re discussed only on a functional level;

— (4) Day 5 again only speaks of functions (let them swarm); thus, nothing is left in the text to imply material origins

— Genesis 1 as a whole has nothing to contribute to the discussion of the age of the earth. “This is not a conclusion drawn to accommodate science—it was drawn from an analysis and interpretation of the biblical text of Genesis in its ancient environment” (95, and see the next few sentences too).

— It’s important to note that all this isn’t to say that God wasn’t involved in material origins; it’s rather to say that Gen 1 isn’t that story (96).

— So, then, the 7 days: before and after.

— Before: like rehearsals for a play. material phase of the cosmos could have been underway. Long eras where life developed. Sun shining. Plants growing. Animals living. Etc.

— After: the curtain rises; the play begins. Now the sun shines in a different context—the context of the cosmic temple. The cosmos is now God’s place of rest, his temple. “People have been granted the image of God and now serve him as vice regents in the world that has been made for them” (98; clearly this suggests pre-existing “people”; did they not die? did they not have the imago dei?). Each day of the seven days the world was being prepared to do for people what it had been designed to do.

— But what about Rom 5:12 and death? The verse only talks about how death came to humanity, not death in general, but to us (100). But death in general was all over before the fall (insects eating plants; birds eating insects; seeds dying and sprouting; skin cells dying, etc.).

— Humans were not subject to death b/c the tree of life gave them life—an antidote to their natural mortality. The punishment for disobedience was to be “doomed to death” (Gen 2:17, being kept from the tree of life). Without access to the tree, humans would be subject to the mortality of their bodies—from dust we were made and to dust we shall return. And so it was that “death came through sin.”

Here we go, continuing our walkthrough of Walton's Lost World. I think what follows (unlike the previous post on the days of creation) is fairly non-controversial. My only hope is that it's taken seriously, because this cosmic-temple theme is seriously embedded in the ancient text itself (and, indeed, I think it runs throughout the canon).

Proposition 7: Divine rest is in a temple

— the true climax: a temple text w/o which the creation would have no meaning.

— the work of separating and subduing and assigning functions is done; the day of “rest” is the day on which the creator God can begin his providential sustenance of the ordered system w/o any obstacles. Stability is here. From such rest he rules. The temple is his headquarters. This is typical temple theology for the ANE.

Proposition 8: The cosmos is a temple

— In many ANE texts, the temple is built as a conclusion to cosmic creation; they are distinct but related acts

— In like manner, Genesis depicts this close relationship; we see how the tabernacle/temple serves as a symbol of the cosmos (and particularly the garden).

o The courtyard represented the cosmic spheres outside of the organized cosmos (cosmic waters and pillars of the earth); the antechamber held the representations of light (Menorah) and food (bread of presence); the veil separated the heavens and earth (the place of God’s presence from the place of human habitation). pp. 81–82 (see fn. 12 about how “heaven and earth” could be a metonymy referring to the cosmic temple)

— Tabernacle/Temple share many affinities with the Garden of Eden: the garden in Genesis is viewed as an archetypal sanctuary (82).

— “The temple is a microcosm, and Eden is represented in the antechamber that serves as sacred space adjoining the presence of God as an archetypal sanctuary” (83). So the cosmos can be likened to a temple (cf. Isa 66:1–2).

— Thus the premise of Genesis 1: “that it should be understood as an account of functional origins of the cosmos as a temple” with God dwelling in its midst (84).

— Day 7 is thus so significant because if God didn’t take up his restful residence in the cosmic temple, then the cosmic temple does not exist. This world is a place for God’s presence. While the functions given are anthropocentric, the cosmic temple is theocentric. Prior to Day 1, God was active but not resident; by Day 7 he is, which effectuates the establishment of the functional cosmic temple (85).

"A special era in John Brown University music-making took place decades after Sound Generation, and years after Joysong (but prior to the Apocalypse). Students of the early 1990s, inspired by the do-it-yourself garage rock mentality of the time, gathered instruments and assembled in dorm rooms, rented houses and otherwise to create an alternate soundtrack for our college years. The results of our musical endeavors were mixed, but often memorable, and usually fun.

This is a place for collecting, archiving and sharing our music and our memories for all the ages (at least until the Apocalypse). The initial collection of memorabilia featured here is quite Demarais-centric, but I hope this batch of videos and mp3s will inspire you to hunt down more exhibits for this online museum, be it audio, video, photos, etc. …So turn up your speakers and peer into the past by way of cheap camcorders and pathetic microphones. Best do it now because the Apocalypse will soon be upon us."

Proposition 5: Days 1–3 establish functions

— Day 1: “light” (not a material thing) is not “day”; so what gives in v. 5? The obvious: the “light” spoken of is a “period of light,” i.e., “day”. Thus “light” is a metonymy (“God called the [period of] light Day, and the [period of] darkness he called Night.”)

— So, working backward to v. 3 we see that God is here creating the basis for time. A function is given (a material is not created) to serve humans. “God said, ‘Let there be [a period of] light.’” But how could there have been light w/o Day 4’s sun? The order of events concerns function, not material creation.

— Day 2: a solid expanse to hold the waters above the earth? Well, the Hebrew does literally mean firmament/expanse. But this question is beside the point, since the creation account (by deliberate intent) is not concerned with material origins but with functional origins. “[Their taken-for-granted] material cosmic geography is simply what was familiar to them as was used to communicate something that is functional in nature” (57).

— Twofold role of the expanse: 1) created space for people to live; 2) ordered the weather. Rain=grain=life. Too little or too much meant disaster. How the original audience thought this was accomplished by God (a solid dome) is beside the point. It does not change the fact that the Creator “established the functions that serves as the basis for weather” (58). He created the basis for weather and sustains it.

— Day 3: If an account of material creations, why is this day included? Nothing is materially created on this day. But if the account revolves around functions, we do see that functions were assigned on this day.

— The act of separating continues: dry land is differentiated from the sea. Herein God creates the basis for food. Time, weather and food are the foundation of life. More important than the Creator’s building the material world is his bringing together all these materials in such a way that they work. In this lies wonder. Functions are far more important than materials.

— It should be no surprise that other ANE literature highlights these 3 major functions

· “The Old World science in the Bible offers the perspective of the earthbound observer. …God did not give Israel a revised cosmic geography—he revealed his creator role through the cosmic geography that they had, because the shape of the material world did not matter” (61–62). He set up the functions and he keeps them going, regardless of how we envision the cosmos’ material shape (which changes, incidentally, from generation to generation).

An entirely meaningless image from Land of the Lost for your viewing pleasure

Proposition 6: Days 4–6 install functionaries

These days are parallel to Days 1–3, but that framework is secondary. The real point is that God is installing items to carry out the functions he previously delineated.

— Day 4: the functionaries are assigned to carry out the task of Day 1—functions that are pertinent only to humans. Note “seasons” refers to planting and harvesting, etc.

— Important to recognize that the spoken words also are creative acts. The words/decrees of the creator God initiates the functions and gives the functionaries their roles.

— Excursus on the Hebrew word translated “made” (‘āśâ), p. 65. It doesn’t refer inherently to material process; it can mean “do” as much as “make.” In this case, “doing” the work of establishing functions for the two great lights (v. 16) so that they would govern as intended.

— “It was good” indicates that whatever God is creating (assigning functions to) is all prepared to function for the human beings that are about to be installed in their place.

— Day 5: the functionaries simply fulfill their own functions—being fruitful and multiplying their respective realms (sea and air). Note that the sea creatures, which were antithetical if not enemies in the ANE (because the sea was itself antithetical to the ordered system), are here depicted as part and parcel of God’s ordered system; they are under his rule. There is no war here. God subdues all.

— Day 6: As in Day 5, these functionaries carry out their own functions in their respective realms. God made them to also be fruitful and multiply.

— v. 24 “land producing creatures”? Rather, “creature’s life comes from the land”; not to be taken as an indication of evolutionary process (a lá Morton), etc.

— Humanity: the big difference here is not only do humans have their own functions to fill their respective sphere, they also are to function in relation to the rest of creation—subdue and rule. They function as God’s image bearers and to each other as male and female.

— God’s image is central in this functional focus, though. All of creation serves in relation to humanity, and humanity serves in relation to God, as his vice regent. Simply put, this means that humanity is delegated a godlike function in the world in which they are placed.

— Creation, in a sense, is therefore anthropocentric—set up to serve humanity, who represent God (imago Dei) to all of creation (68ff.). This is unlike ANE, where creation is all about serving the gods, supplying their needs. “The focus moves from the divine realm, through people, to the world around them” (69).

— But doesn’t Gen. 2 give an account of material origins for humanity? ANE texts do give all kinds of accounts about what materials were used to create humans. Genesis follows suit, except that only one couple is in view here.

— But the individual Adam’s being fashioned from clay is to be understood archetypically. All humans are from the dust (and to dust they will return, Gen. 3:19). It is not a statement of chemical composition; it is indicative of human destiny and mortality, and therefore is a functional comment, not a material one (70). The same holds true for the creation of the Woman.

— Thus, they are primarily archetypal, which doesn’t preclude historical, of course (see n. 5, 179). The fact is, they are regularly treated as such by other writers of Scripture. “Humankind is connected to the ground from which it is drawn. Womankind is connected to mankind from whom she is drawn. [Both are] connected to God in whose image all are made. As such they have the privilege of procreation, the role of subduing and ruling, and a status in the garden serving sacred space.” All of these functions are for all humans. “Neither the materials nor the roles are descriptive only of the first individuals.” The creation account of Genesis therefore “gives people their identity and specifies their connectivity to everything around them” (71).