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Blinded by the Light

Last time, I said I wanted to look at the following three questions:

  1. Could God have made beings incapable of sin?
  2. If not 1, could He have made beings capable of sin but who would never sin in actuality?
  3. Given the assumption (which I accept) that God made the spiritual world and the incorporeal intelligences (what we call angels, etc.), why did He make embodied intelligences–i.e. us, as well as any other intelligent species that may exist here on Earth or elsewhere in the cosmos?

Here I want to look at 1 and 2.

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Destiny; or, Were You Meant to Read This Post?

Aside from the title, the video above doesn’t have much to do with the post, but that’s never stopped me before.  This post, in fact, is the latest installment in my series on free will.  The main focus of that series hasn’t been on examining free will as such.  Rather, the main thrust has been to see if a finite but immortal being could make an irrevocable choice.  This is relevant to the idea of universalism.  This is because the concept of the eternity of Hell is that the damned have in effect chosen their state and, so it is asserted, will never change their minds.  Aside from merely asserting this to be the case, there didn’t seem to be any logical reason for this to be.  After looking at several aspects of the problem, my final conclusion was that there’s no clear answer either way.

This post goes off on another tangent, though, and is more connected with my series on the Fall.  For reasons that will become clear in posts that I’m planning as a continuation and (possible!) completion of that series–the longest-running series on this blog–I think it’s necessary to look at another aspect of free will.  What I want to do is to ask the question:  Is our free will compatible with the foreknowledge of God?  In short, if God knows what we’re going to do before we do it–from all eternity, in fact–are we truly free?

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Stubborn Highlanders Revisited, and Antinomies of Pure Reason

Aam still thinkin’ abit it.

We’ve been discussing free will in the context of universalism.  The notion put forth by defenders of the Traditional View of Hell (TVOH) in recent times has tried to defend God from charges of wantonly tossing people to damnation by asserting that the damned damn themselves.  That is, those who choose against God, who choose to reject Him, voluntarily remove themselves from His presence.  This removal from God’s presence is Hell.  To the objection that they would surely change their minds sooner or later, the assertion is made that it is possible to reject God permanently, that is, to make an irrevocable decision from free will.  For one to assert a universalist view–that all will ultimately be saved–one must argue that no such irrevocable decision, at least regarding Hell, is possible.  This possibility of eternally irrevocable choices is what we’ve been looking at.

Let’s briefly sum up what we’ve decided thus far.  Some argue that in the afterlife time as we know it no longer applies to saved or damned souls, and thus that their choices are not irrevocable over countless aeons, but rather made once and for all in an eternal moment.  Against this, I’ve argued here and here that this can apply only to God Himself, and not to lesser beings, even immortal ones in the afterlife.  Therefore, I’ve focused on whether or not a choice, can, in fact, be eternally irrevocable.  I began that discussion here and elaborated here.  I’ve used the whimsical idea that Connor MacCleod, eponymous hero of the Highlander movies and guest star in the series, has vowed that he will never, ever eat a broccoli fudge sundae.  I’ve further specified that he is truly immortal–he will live not just for an unimaginably long time, but literally for all eternity.  Can he keep this vow?

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Choices and Consequences

consequencesWe’ve been looking at different issues interrelated with universalism.  In light of some of these, it bears returning to a more fundamental concept:  How do people get to hell (assuming they indeed do so), anyway?  This seems like a stupid question, but bear with me.

Traditionally, the image is that of Jonathan Edwards’s famous sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God“:  that is, God, in His wrath, casts the damned into Hell.  Of course, the unspoken assumption here is that eternal Hell and unending punishment is just.  Such arguments usually end in the assertion that God is perfectly just and that since His ways are so far above ours as to be inscrutable, Hell and damnation are therefore just, no matter what we think.  Even if it could be argued that it would be unjust for a human to do such a thing (and there are actually people who are working on this), the idea is that God, being above us, is not bound by the same ethic as we are.  It seems to me that this is an invalid argument, and I’ve argued, based on Plato’s Euthyphro, that God must follow the same standards as we do in this case.

At this point, supporters of hell try to get God off the hook by the free-will argument.  They make the claim that God does not condemn anyone to hell.  Rather, He sets certain ground rules as to appropriate actions and the consequences thereof.  If a person lives in such a way that the consequences are eternal Hell, this is not God’s fault.  The person knew the ground rules and he knew the consequences.  Like the person who gets drunk and goes out driving anyway, only to wreck, likewise the damned receives the fruit of his own action.  This is what I’ve previously described as going to Hell in a nice handbasket.

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More on Universalism–Compulsion vs. Choice

aa-angel-and-devil-on-mans-shoulder

In the last post, we saw how both we and God must be held to the same moral standards.  If it would be wrong for us to condemn someone to an eternal (or near-eternal) hell, then the same is true for God.  Now the typical work-around for this, with those who promote the traditional idea of hell, is that God doesn’t condemn anyone; rather, by their free choices, the damned condemn themselves.  The damned were not sent or compelled–they freely chose to listen to the little guy with horns and a pitchfork on the wrong shoulder!  I’ve discussed this notion more technically here.  What I’m doing in this post is tackling the same notion–that allowing people to damn themselves gets God off the hook–in a less technical and philosophical, and more direct way.  This was originally from  a blog discussion on universalism that I had awhile back.  I didn’t past the context, so I don’t remember exactly when, where, or with whom I had this discussion (though I know the likely candidates for each). 

In any case, I’ve put my part of the discussion here intact.  I decided not to edit it, and left it as is.  However, to give it context for the discussion we’re making here, and to clarify some points, I’ve added this commentary which I’ve put in dark green (I originally did it in red, but decided that’s too hard on the eyes), leaving the original post in black.

God has the choice to make or not make any of various possible universes inhabited by intelligent creatures.  Free will isn’t really the issue:  since He’s all-knowing, He knows exactly what choices these creatures will freely make.  Thus, He knows, for example, that in Universe X, containing Joe Schmoe, Joe, as a result of his temperament, the choices that are presented to him in Universe X, and so on,  will freely make choices resulting in his eternal damnation.  In fact, God knows this with absolute certaintyI’m aware that this last point could be argued–some would say that by definition God cannot know a freely made choice with 100% certainty.  He might know it with any arbitrary accuracy short of that; but there would always be room for doubt.  For the purpose of the discussion here, though, we’ll let that be for now; I’m looking more in-depth at free will in a separate, though related, series.

Now God makes Joe, his temperament, etc. and also sets the ground rules of Universe X.  Thus it seems reasonable to say that God is in a real sense responsible for Joe ending up in Hell.  To argue, “Well, it was Joe’s choices that damned himself” seems fatuous.  It’s as if I bred a type  of dog that is highly disposed to chase cars and then turned it loose in Times Square, then disavowed responsibility for the inevitable moment when the dog gets run over.  Yes, arguably the dog doesn’t “make a choice”; but given God’s perfect knowledge, it’s a difference of degree, not kind.  After all, God knows with 100% accuracy that Joe, in Universe X, will end up damned, so the for all the difference it makes and all the good it does him, Joe might as well be the dog turned loose in Times Square.

Now one might still say that it’s Joe’s fault because he freely chose; but at this point I think we’re at a metaphysical impasse.  I think some want to use “free will” here as a way to absolve God of blame.  Yes, He made Joe and every aspect of his personality, and put him in Universe X, where he will certainly be damned, as opposed to Universe Y, in which God foresees that Joe would not have chosen so as to be damned; but Joe is still free, so the fact that God essentially set him up is still not His fault.

This is more or less the argument of “free” as “lacking exterior compulsion or duress” vs. “free” as “able to decide otherwise”.  In the first case, God doesn’t “force” Joe to do the things that lead to his damnation, any more than in the dog analogy I “force” the dog to chase the car that runs over it.  This is essentially the viewpoint of soft determinism or compatiblism.  Many forms of Calvinism tend towards this view.  The latter perspective would say that no matter what the biological inclinations and desires, family background, etc. that Joe may have, he is still free to choose options in a real sense.  This is the perspective of incompatibilism, which says that pure determinism cannot be reconciled with true human free will.

If this is your perspective, then I guess there’s nothing more to say, since you apparently don’t mean by “fault” or “responsibility” what I do (once more, see the discussion here)I think God is on the hook there, and Joe’s freedom doesn’t absolve Him.

So:

1.  God is supposed to be perfectly loving and to desire the salvation of all.

2.  Since He can foresee all results, even of free choices, with perfect accuracy, He can be said, in effect, to choose how many will be damned, since He knows the exact outcome of every decision of every being in every cosmos He could create.  He knows, e.g., that in Universe C only three percent of the humans will ultimately be damned, but that in Universe D, all of them will be.  By choosing to make Universe D, God would be deliberately choosing the damnation and eternal suffering of everyone in it, even if each person freely chose the actions resulting in this.

3.  From 1, it would seem that God would choose the universe with the fewest damned.  Arguably, He would not choose to make a universe in which any were damned.  Of course that gets into “best possible world” stuff–it’s better to have ten million damned and four million saved than to have a world where none are saved–but this is fatuous, and Voltaire did a better takedown of this line of thinking than I ever could.  There is no way we can make determinations like that (who says the four million saved is worth the ten million damned, anyway?), not least that since damnation and salvation are eternal, it becomes difficult to put valuations on those states.  Anything claiming otherwise is mere assertion.

4.  Thus, assuming the traditional view that most are damned (let’s say 95%, just to put a number on it), it seems odd that God would have made this universe, rather than one in which only 50% were damned, or 25%, or 10%, or 0%.  My opinion is that He did, in fact, make one in which 0% are damned (not to say they don’t undergo lengthy purgation; I’m talking about eternal damnation).  To be explicit, I think He made a world in which 0% are ultimately damned, and that world is this one.  We are, after all, discussing universalism.

5.  Thus, if you assert otherwise, it seems that either you’re saying that somehow 95% damned is congruent with God’s love and mercy–which is fine, but it’s hard to see how that works; or that you’ve got to say that God couldn’t make a universe with better stats.  I don’t see how you prove that; and if God is  all-loving, I don’t see why he’d even make such a crummy cosmos in the first place.

I doubt any of this changes your mind, which is fine; but perhaps it puts things in a clearer light in terms of what I’m arguing.

Next:  A couple more refinements, followed by a look at the motivating factors behind those with the beliefs against which I argued in this post.

Part of the series Universalism (What the Hell?!)

Simply Irresistible (or not?)

As a slight but necessary tangent to my series on free will and choice, which is itself a slight but necessary tangent to the issue of universalism, it’s necessary here to discuss the three basic views (there are subcategories, but these are the main ones to consider) regarding free will, or the lack thereof.

Libertarianism (not to be confused, in this context, with the odious political party or the even more odious political philosophy) is the belief that humans do indeed have free will.  Free will, in short, is real, not an illusion.  Just so we’re clear, we’re talking about the commonsense definition of “free will” as “the ability to do whatever you want, within the constraints of ability and duress”.  The last clause is important.  I am not free to flap my arms and fly to the moon, since that’s impossible.  The poor man is not free to eat at the Ritz, as the saying goes, since he lacks the money.  If I’m in jail or under the influence of drugs, my free choices may be prevented (I can’t just walk out of jail) or suppressed (I might do things under the influence that I normally wouldn’t).  Still, the basic definition–that I can do what I want, if I’m able to do so–is a good one for free will.

At the risk of stating the obvious, it is worth saying at this juncture that free will implies moral responsibility for one’s actions.  If I freely do something bad, I am responsible for that and worthy of blame, or even imprisonment or execution, if what I do is bad enough.  If I do something good through my own free will, I am worthy of praise and perhaps even honors and accolades.  This accords with the commonsense view of what free will is and what it entails.

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You Pays Your Money and Takes Your Chances: Free Will (Index)

crapsdiceroll

Alas, my theological writings seem to be a series of matryoshka dolls.  In order to make certain points or establish the groundwork for certain areas relevant to the main topic, it is necessary to develop ancillary topics.  These in turn expand until in order to keep track of them I have to assign them series of their own.  This is what I find I’m having to do with my discussions on free will, which are necessary to the topic of universalism, which in turn is a big part of my series on the Fall.  Sigh.  Anyway, I decided I might as well index the posts on free will here, along with some even more ancillary posts I needed to develop the ideas there.  Thus, without further ado, my latest index!

If I Only Wanted To

Dream a Little Dream

Be All That You Can Be:  Potentiality and Actuality

Story of Our Lives

Stories Like Ours

The Divine Exception

Been a Long Time, Been a Long Time, Been an Aeviternal Time

Change My Mind (?)

Stubborn Highlanders

Sea Battles and What Will Be

The Divine Exception, Revisited

Simply Irresistible (or not?)

Stubborn Highlanders Revisited, and Antinomies of Pure Reason

Destiny, or Were You Meant to Read This Post?

It’s All in the Mind

It’s hard to find a soul here, in this crowd of skin and bones.–Susanna Hoffs, “Made of Stone”

We’ve seen why the troubles besetting Connor MacLeod and the murky possibility of predestination do not apply to God.  Now we return to the issue of how humans make choices (if in fact the can do so), and if they can hold to these choices forever.  One possible perspective needs to be dealt with before I go on to a fuller consideration of the issue. That perspective deals with the nature of our mind.

First, I am most definitely a New Mysterian–that is to say, I think the so-called “hard problem of consciousness” cannot be solved by humans or human science.  Beyond that, I take it as axiomatic that humans indeed have souls, and that these souls are immaterial and survive death.  I’m not interested in defending these assertions at this point.  As a believer, I take for granted the traditional Christian teaching on the existence of the soul.  If I didn’t believe in the existence of souls, then none of the increasingly large number of posts here would have the slightest significance and I could be spending my time in some more fruitful pursuit.  Thus, the presupposition that we have souls that are immaterial underlies all the follows from here.

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The Divine Exception, Revisited

It occurs to me that we’ll need to take a short detour at this point.  We’ve been discussing the issues involved in freely made but irrevocable choices made by immortal beings.  We’ve already seen some philosophical issues.  On the one hand, it seems as if any such irrevocable choice would eventually have to be revoked.  On the other, if such a being were successful in carrying out such a choice, it seems as if this would indicate that it lacked free will in the first place.  Before we move on to examine these problems more, I think we need to revisit a previous post and consider how all this applies to God.

My argument there was that these issues do not apply to God, since He is eternal, properly so-called.  That is, He is outside of time altogether.  I’m essentially repeating that argument here, with slightly different nuance.  The last time I was making the argument in terms of probabilities.  The last two posts have been subtly different in their analysis, and I want to address that here.

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Sea Battles and What Will Be

aivazovskiy_sea_battle_near_navarino_1846

Last time we looked at the philosophically perplexing case of a finite but immortal being that makes an irrevocable choice.  The whimsical example we used was of Highlander Connor MacLeod, who resolves that he will never eat a broccoli fudge sundae throughout eternity.  To do so is not a logical impossibility as being a married bachelor would be, for example.  It seems common sense, then, to say that Connor at any point could eat the sundae; he just doesn’t want to, or has chosen not to.  However, to say that a thing could happen–which is the same thing as saying it’s possible–seems to imply that, given a sufficiently long period of time, it will happen.  I didn’t give the term last time, but this idea is sometimes called the plenitude principle.  This principle seems to imply that if it’s logically possible to eat a broccoli fudge sundae–which it certainly is, aesthetics aside–that sooner or later Connor will indeed eat it, given that he has literally all the time in the world.  This, however, seems to imply that Connor does not have the free will to eternally refrain from such sundaes.

On the other hand, if we say that Connor can indeed go forever without eating the sundae, that seems to mean that there is zero probability that it will happen; which seems equivalent to saying that it cannot happen;  which seems to say it is not possible; which seems to conflict with the notion of what it means to say that it is logically possible, and with the plenitude principle.  It’s even worse than that in that Connor’s ability to forever forgo broccoli fudge sundaes by an act of free will seems, paradoxically, to undermine the notion that he has free will.  To see why, we need now to discuss naval battles.

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