< Back Growing Into Pentecost James Bratt "In any case, Pentecost turns out to be a big deal after all. Reformed folk can join with those claiming to be a “full-gospel church”—maybe even remind the others of some overlooked elements in that mix." When I was a kid, I never got the big deal about Pentecost. For one, it didn’t come along with any special songs or meals. Compare that to Easter, where you could get both of those in one package: “ Low in the Gravy Lay .” Actually, you didn’t really want the gravy my mom served with her Easter ham dinner, although we offset that salt-special with her lime jello concoction that combined all four food groups: pear chunks, shredded carrots, chopped walnuts, and a Kool-Whip topping for your bit of dairy. If it was Aunt Jen’s turn to host the extended-family gathering, you could count on treats my parents tried to avoid for the sake of dental bills, hyper-activity, and uncomfortable fertility symbolism: chocolate eggs, marshmallow chicks, and unlimited jelly beans. For Christmas, of course, we had several family reunions, with jello (there’s a pattern here), chips, and pigs-in-the-blanket sure to pop up along the way. Plus carols at church and home, gift exchanges, and enough sentiment stirred up to suffuse the heart against all pain and doubt. Weird and Discomfiting But Pentecost? Nuthin’ . No canonical hymns, no special dinner (except your beef roast and mashed potatoes were always special, Mom), no family gatherings, only weirdness topped by discomfiting admonitions. The weirdness lay with those tongues of fire and mighty wind. Hey, springtime in Michigan is tornado weather, so ixnay on the turbulent atmosphere already! The Sunday School pictures of bearded, berobed guys whose heads were suffering from mis-directed charcoal lighter inspired distaste rather than the tears evoked by Baby Jesus or the awe attending the Risen Lord. Plus one heard rumors of crazy people who used Pentecost as a label, “holy rollers” who handled snakes and claimed, against all reason and scientific evidence, that they could perform miraculous healings. Not that we Dutch Reformed types denied miracles—just that you shouldn’t bet on them or have the audacity to command God to deliver them on cue. Or really expect one for yourself. As for the discomfiting admonitions, well, the Pentecost sermon was bound to urge us to go out and “witness,” which to me meant cold-calling strangers door-to-door or confronting random persons on the street and asking them where they would be spending eternity if they died tonight. Christian Reformed people tended not to be very good at that, and—it still seems to me—for very good reason. Nor did I yet know Mark Twain’s response to that question: “I’ll take heaven for the climate and hell for the company.” Why does that advice seem so apropos today? Junior Partner/Tag-Along Child? The biggest problem with Pentecost, however, seemed to be that there just wasn’t much for the Holy Spirit to do. I mean, how did this guy merit inclusion in the Trinity along with the Father and the Son, who obviously carried out some pretty heavy lifting? Wasn’t the Trinity really a 2+-ity, the alleged Third Person really qualifying as a junior partner, something like the trailing child born to a couple who thought they were done after #2? After all, the Spirit gets only one Q&A in the Heidelberg Catechism while the Father gets three and the Son twenty-four! And however rich the answer to Q&A 53 may be, what I took out of catechism class was that the Holy Spirit had just two jobs: to comfort us when sad and to inspire the writers of the Bible so that their texts were infallible. That is, all those unpredictable, unsettling actions hovering around the Holy Spirit package were stripped away so that God was back in the box of words bound within black-leather covers. Back in the text. Our sure and perfect text-box. Calvin–Theologian of the Holy Spirit? People my age and of similar background have told me they learned it very differently, so part—much?—of my truncated understanding probably reflects bad reception rather than bad teaching. In any case, my real education on the point has come in three parts. It began in grad school when I dove into The Spirit of the Reformed Tradition by Eugene Osterhaven, late professor of theology at Western Theological Seminary. I was astounded to come across a line describing John Calvin as a—perhaps the premier—theologian of the Holy Spirit. And to see that characterization attributed to B. B. Warfield of all people, co-inventor of the theory of biblical inerrancy. But as I read on, there and in other sources, of Calvin’s teaching about the testimony of the Holy Spirit—the action that transforms the dead page of scripture into the living word of God in our hearts—various old doubts and conundrums in my head began to be resolved, and the Third Person took on a richer role, something of a mentor and companion. Not a miracle-worker, maybe, although keeping me from behaving down to my worst level might sometimes be miracle enough. Kuyper, too? Things got richer yet in doing research for my biography of Abraham Kuyper. In his Work of the Holy Spirit (1888-89; E.T. 1956) Kuyper ties the Spirit’s role closely to his own favorite themes of creation and culture. Out of the chaos attending the human fall into sin the Spirit has been, is, and unto the end of time shall remain busy bringing out a new creation that will finally sing perfect praises to its Maker, as was the divine intention in the first place. Meanwhile, Kuyper continued, all along the Spirit has been bringing forth the first notes and sounding forth the big themes of that grand symphony. Included here are the well-known tasks of working sanctification among the saints—more accurately, conveying Christ’s perfections to them—as well as inspiring the Scriptures, conceiving the person of Christ, and building the church as Christ’s representative on earth. But the Spirit’s sweep goes far beyond the elect and the familiar tropes of redemption, Kuyper insisted. Every human gift, every talent, every good work is the Spirit’s work. The vocation of every person, redeemed or not, and the “genius” of every nation are the Spirit’s gift. The “work of the Holy Spirit,” Kuyper even said, “touches every creature, whether animate and inanimate”—those butterflies and bears and rocks and trees and skies and seas are charismatic that way. Nor is the Spirit’s work in creation a once and done affair; it is still active today, “quickening and sustaining life” in every creature’s “being and talents.” (E.T. 45-46) This Incredibly Benevolent Force All these reflections were called back up but also re-set when I recently read This Incredibly Benevolent Force: The Holy Spirit in Reformed Theology and Spirituality (Eerdmans 2018), the published version of the 2014 Warfield Lectures given at Princeton Theological Seminary by my friend Cornelis van der Kooi. As a professor at the Free University in Amsterdam, Kees stands literally in Kuyper’s line; but with additional duties as director of the Center for Evangelical and Reformation Theology there, he has also taken on the role of being a critical friend of the ongoing charismatic movement, both at home and abroad. Cornelius “Kees” van der Kooi Kees trims back some of Kuyper’s enthusiasms; the master was too enamored of secularization and technology, as well as dualistic as to spiritual-material distinctions. At the same time, This Incredibly Benevolent Force is a tour de force on the state of play between Logos and Spirit Christology, bringing Christ down out of the clouds of Greek philosophical abstraction into the living, learning, suffering, and finally triumphant life of Jesus. It is the Spirit who made and makes him Emanuel, the one who is “with us”—and for us. At the same time, it is the Spirit that bears the love of God into the unfathomably far reaches of a cosmos that would otherwise remain a blank space, the big empty. From down here to the farthest out there, the Spirit is active, inviting us indeed to bear witness to the wonderful works of God. To me that “witness” means mostly watching and living accordingly, using words, á la St. Francis, only when necessary. In any case, Pentecost turns out to be a big deal after all. Reformed folk can join with those claiming to be a “full-gospel church”—maybe even remind the others of some overlooked elements in that mix. I’ll pass on the charcoal lighter and snakes, though; just settle for a decent meal. Hmmm, maybe some bread and wine. This piece is republished with permission from the author. It was originally published on Reformed Journal . James Bratt is professor of history emeritus at Calvin College, specializing in American religious history and especially the connections between religion and politics. Starting in Fall 2016 he took a break from blogging on The Twelve to teach in China and on the Semester at Sea, which venues afforded him some welcome distance from the USA’s descent into its current mortal illness. But now he’s back in the States, looking for hope. His most recent book (which he edited and completed for the late John Woolverton) is “A Christian and a Democrat”: Religion in the Life and Leadership of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Return to our Holy Days 2023 Table of Contents, Previous Next

< Back Yesterday, the Very Tomorrow Annie D. Stutley Sometimes the very words we need to hear come from the most unlikely sources. Wisdom isn’t reserved for great philosophers, theologians, or grandparents alone. We’re still not sure what the phrase actually meant at its origin. The words are entirely contradictory. Does it mean yesterday? Tomorrow? Maybe a long-winded version of today? Or was he aiming for the day after tomorrow, but couldn’t wrap his child brain around the proper words to get there? We may never know. The Golden Boy was somewhere around three-years-old when he first spoke the words to us: “Yesterday, the very tomorrow…” He was referring to a trip to the park in search of turtles. “And yesterday, the very tomorrow I saw five turtles!” What an unusual description of time. It must mean yesterday... But then the next day he said, “Yesterday, the very tomorrow, can we watch the train pass by?” So he means tomorrow.... It was so marvelously complex that I never corrected him. “No, baby. It’s either tomorrow or yesterday. They imply two different days,” is something I would never have said. The cuteness of saying things the ‘wrong’ way was as precious to me as first laughs and watching my fifteen-month-old slowly pump her chubby little legs to Janet Jackson. The innocence is fleeting. The inhibition vanishes in the blink of an eye. “Yesterday, the very tomorrow” is an oxymoron, but it’s also brilliant. My child said it when the world and the way things function were just beginning to churn to life around him. His time here was about to pop open and “yesterday, the very tomorrow” is how he measured it. He continued to switch up its usage until eventually my husband and I, befuddled by this most remarkable phrase, stopped translating. It was cute. It was perfectly Golden Boy to be so excited, so anxious about his yesterday, today, and tomorrow that he couldn’t bear to separate his fascinating life into pieces. I took it to mean we’d done something right and left it alone. He said those words for years, eventually dropping them around the time he got to school. A teacher probably corrected him. I don’t fault her. Eventually he’d have to explain time normally. He couldn’t write a paper about Charlotte’s Web and get away with “...and yesterday, the very tomorrow, Charlotte spun a web for Wilbur so that Mr. Zuckerman wouldn’t eat him.” That simply wouldn’t have worked. His cuteness would have to be curbed for practical reasons. Now he says yesterday, today, and tomorrow, and we never have to question what he means. But “yesterday, the very tomorrow” is permanently lodged in our family lexicon. We say it jokingly on road trips. “Are we there yet?” the kids whine. “We’ll get there yesterday, the very tomorrow,” my husband and I answer. Other times, I taunt the boy with his own words. “Mom, when are you gonna pay me for my chores?” he’ll pester me. “Yesterday, the very tomorrow,” I’ll wickedly grin back. But beyond family lore and excuses to mess with my children, “yesterday, the very tomorrow” has legs. It could encompass myriad meanings and symbolize all sorts of virtues. I’ve chewed on the cleverness of the word play so much that I have several ideas of how to use it, like an alternative to “seize the day.” Why wait until tomorrow? Yesterday will be here before you know it. The time to be bold is now! Or, it could also be the new “tomorrow is another day.” Yesterday might have been terrible, but tomorrow is near. Don’t give up! It’s perfectly contradictory. And I love it for all that its strangeness is able to insinuate. What a beautiful way to describe a great love, for example. I loved you yesterday, the very tomorrow -- I loved you all the days all at once. Doesn’t that bubble up all the best feels? The phrase can also capture the seriousness of our time here. Life is yesterday, the very tomorrow. We are the choices we’ve made and the choices we’ve yet to make. It’s both beautiful and terrifying, innocent and wise. And it came from the lips of a three-year-old, thirsty for more turtle sightings. More than anything, I think “yesterday, the very tomorrow” is a reminder. Sometimes the very words we need to hear come from the most unlikely sources. Wisdom isn’t reserved for great philosophers, theologians, or grandparents alone. Experience is useful, but also a mere prediction. We can’t always find the answers to our riddles on the pages of Google or from a vetted article on social media. Pinterest won’t always nail it either. Man is no wiser than woman, just as woman is no smarter than man. One color has no more a leg up in the afterlife than the next. No party is less flawed than the other. Our weight is equal in the eyes of the magnificence that planted us here. So why, then, must we toy with one another’s value when the answers lay in all of us? We were here yesterday, the very tomorrow. We will be here yesterday, the very tomorrow. We are present together. All at once, in the past, and in the future. If you don’t understand the fragility of one another, of life, of time, of all things, just ask a three-year-old. He’ll explain it. Or she will. It doesn’t really matter who. Just be present for it. I know enough to know that regardless “yesterday, the very tomorrow” is close to the present if nothing else -- right there on the brink of our now. Some days it feels like time is running out. Other days feel like the past will never end. Maybe to be present, open, and ready to receive all we’ve ever wanted, we just need to change things up -- our actions, our thoughts, and, perhaps most of all, our words. Annie D. Stutley lives and writes in New Orleans, La. She edits several small publications and contributes to various print and online magazines. Her blog, " That Time You, " was ranked in the Top 100 Blogs by FeedSpot. To read more of her work, go to her website , or follow her at @anniedstutley or Annie D. Stutley-writer on Facebook. Previous Next

< Back Ruth Embraced Resilience and Found Redemption Rebecca Moss "Ruth demonstrates how resilience can reward us, showing that even in the darkest of times, there is always hope to be found for those who refuse to yield to despair." The Book of Ruth, nestled within the Old Testament scriptures, offers a profound narrative that transcends centuries, weaving together themes of resilience, loyalty, and divine providence. Through a closer examination of Ruth's journey, we unearth invaluable insights that resonate deeply with individuals grappling with adversity and uncertainty in the present day. Ruth's story begins with a backdrop of loss and hardship. Following the deaths of her husband and father-in-law, she finds herself at a crossroads, faced with the daunting task of rebuilding her life amidst profound grief. Despite the allure of returning to her homeland, Ruth chooses to accompany her mother-in-law, Naomi, back to Bethlehem, demonstrating a remarkable display of loyalty and devotion. The poignant words of Ruth to Naomi encapsulate her unwavering commitment: "Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God" (Ruth 1:16). This declaration of loyalty, uttered amidst the desolation of loss, serves as a testament to Ruth's steadfast character and unwavering faith. Upon their arrival in Bethlehem, Ruth's resilience is put to the test as she seeks to provide for herself and Naomi. With humility and determination, she gleans in the fields, gathering leftover grain to sustain them through the harvest season. Ruth's willingness to embrace the humble task of gleaning reflects her resilience and tenacity in the face of adversity. It is in these fields of Boaz, a relative of Naomi, that Ruth's fortunes take a remarkable turn. Boaz, moved by Ruth's virtuous character and diligence, extends his protection and favor to her, ensuring that she may glean safely and abundantly. Ruth's encounter with Boaz is marked by a sense of divine providence, as she finds favor in his eyes and experiences unexpected blessings amidst her toil. The words of Boaz to Ruth encapsulate his admiration for her character: "May the Lord repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge" (Ruth 2:12). Boaz's recognition of Ruth's integrity and faithfulness serves as a pivotal moment in her journey toward redemption and restoration. As the story unfolds, we witness Ruth's courage and resilience in the face of uncertainty. Through her unwavering faith and determination, she navigates the complexities of her circumstances, ultimately finding refuge and belonging in the community of Bethlehem. The culmination of Ruth's journey is marked by her union with Boaz, a union that symbolizes redemption and restoration on multiple levels. Through her marriage to Boaz, Ruth is not only elevated from her status as a foreign widow but also becomes a vital link in the lineage of King David and, ultimately, Jesus Christ. The words of the women of Bethlehem to Naomi upon the birth of Ruth's son encapsulate the profound significance of Ruth's journey: "Praise be to the Lord, who this day has not left you without a guardian-redeemer. May he become famous throughout Israel! He will renew your life and sustain you in your old age" (Ruth 4:14-15). Ruth's story is alive with the magnitude of resilience, loyalty, and faith in the face of adversity. Ruth’s story offers a timeless message of hope and redemption to individuals navigating their own trials and tribulations. Through Ruth's journey, we see the rewards of loyalty, resilience, and we see divine providence. Throughout her story, we encounter profound lessons about the importance of community and the value of steadfastness in the face of adversity. Despite facing seemingly insurmountable challenges, Ruth's unwavering loyalty to Naomi and her commitment to providing for their welfare displays the kind of selflessness and compassion we are called to give. In a world marked by shifting alliances and fleeting loyalties, Ruth's steadfast devotion stands as an example of the enduring strength found in genuine relationships. Furthermore, Ruth's journey is marked by unexpected twists and turns, underscoring the unpredictable nature of life and the importance of remaining open to divine providence. Despite the uncertainty that accompanies her every step, Ruth approaches each challenge with unwavering faith, trusting in the guiding hand of a benevolent God. Her willingness to embrace the unknown and surrender to a higher purpose reminds us of the transformative potential found in relinquishing control and placing our trust in God. Moreover, Ruth's story highlights the significance of perseverance and resilience in the face of adversity. Despite facing numerous obstacles along her journey, including poverty, loss, and social marginalization, Ruth refuses to succumb to despair or resignation. Instead, she meets each challenge with unwavering resolve, drawing strength from her innermost convictions and pressing forward with determination. In doing so, Ruth demonstrates how resilience can reward us, showing that even in the darkest of times, there is always hope to be found for those who refuse to yield to despair. Finally, in addition to its overarching themes of resilience and redemption, Ruth's story also offers profound insights into the nature of love and sacrifice. Throughout her journey, Ruth's actions are driven by a deep sense of love and devotion, both towards her mother-in-law, Naomi, and towards the God of Israel. Her willingness to sacrifice her own comfort and security for the sake of others is an inspiring kind of selfless love, illustrating that true fulfillment is found not in the pursuit of personal gain, but in the service of others. As we reflect on the timeless lessons found within the pages of Ruth's narrative, may we be inspired to cultivate resilience, embrace uncertainty with faith, and extend love and compassion to those in need. Just as Ruth's journey ultimately leads to redemption and restoration, so, too, can our own lives be transformed through the power of unwavering faith and selfless love. Rebecca writes for "Beliefs in Bites" and "Faith and Future." Connect with Rebecca on social media to stay engaged in her thought-provoking discussions and explorations of the spiritual and technological realms. Twitter: @Rmosswrites purpose and devotion. Return to our 2024 Beach Read Previous Next

< Back Jeremiah David Cowles “God places his words in Jeremiah’s mouth. How can this be consistent with Jeremiah’s status as a free and independent entity?” “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born, I dedicated you, a prophet to the nations I appointed you… See, I place my words in your mouth. Today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms: to uproot and to tear down, to destroy and to demolish, to build and to plant.” (Jer 1:1 -10) “Before I formed you…I knew you.” Phrases like this have often been mistakenly understood to mean that God has blueprinted the world. Omnipotent, his will would progress from conception to execution instantaneously and without any assistance. But this is not our God! Ours is an historical and material God; he rolls up his sleeves and gets his hands dirty. But like a General Contractor, he also relies on loyal subcontractors, us, to realize the details of his grand vision. He calls us on each of us as needed, and we, sometimes unwittingly, help bring his designs to fruition. A different sort of god would have no need of others…but what a poor god this would be! I am reminded of Richie Rich, playing with his fancy toys, alone . But that is not what’s happening in Jeremiah. God addresses his prophet in the second person familiar ( du ). He does not talk about Jeremiah the way some Frankenstein might talk about his monster. He does not order Jeremiah about as if he were Alexa . God addresses Jeremiah as a true “Other” (Sartre), a genuine “Thou” (Martin Buber). To recognize Jeremiah in this way is to recognize him as an NFL free agent, a co-creator, not a slave, not a tool. (Unless we have ‘issues’, most of us do not make a habit of talking to our tools.) Yet God knew Jeremiah before he formed him and dedicated Jeremiah before he was even born. Further, God places his words in Jeremiah’s mouth. How can this be consistent with Jeremiah’s status as a free and independent entity? One key to unraveling this paradox lies in understanding Jeremiah’s mission: “to uproot, to tear down, to destroy, to demolish, to build, to plant.” God did not appoint Jeremiah to design the Kingdom of God; that’s God’s job. Jeremiah is not God’s architect; for that he has Sophia . And God is his own general ; Jeremiah is God’s sub . Jeremiah is God’s “change agent”. He is the one who raises the old structures, levels the ground, to make way for the new; he is God’s wrecking crew. Jeremiah tears down ‘Sin City’ so that God can build New Jerusalem in its place. Jeremiah does not impress God’s image upon the world. Rather he smashes the world’s icons and melts them back into raw material so that the evolutionary/historical process, God’s praxis , can make its mark. He was the Abbie Hoffman of his time. God knows the world’s origin: Logos ( Gospel of John ), the Word of God (God’s values). God’s Word (capital W) is reflected in the words (small w) that Jeremiah speaks. Jeremiah proclaims God’s values. Without God’s Word, God’s values, Jeremiah would have nothing to say. God being God is what makes it possible for Jeremiah to be Jeremiah…and, BTW, for you to be you. It is God’s words that Jeremiah speaks; what else? A similar ontological map can be found in the New Testament Letter to Ephesians (2:10): “ For we are…created in Christ Jesus for the good works that God has prepared in advance, that we should live in them. ” The works that are “prepared in advance” are the logical and practical consequence of God’s immutable values. But those works do not spring to life until we animate them. It is up to us to step into those works so that we might “live in them”. God knows the world’s destiny; but knowing is not controlling. God’s knowledge (Parmenides’ Aletheia ) is outside of time; it is the spaceless and timeless foundation through which the space-time universe (Parmenides’ Doxa ) comes to be, on which that universe rests and into which it ultimately resolves itself. God’s eternal knowledge in no way compromises the radical freedom of the intentional events that occur in our space-time universe. In the non-temporal sense (and only in that sense), we may say that God’s gnosis “precedes” (logically, not temporally) his praxis (the world): He thinks before we act! But make no mistake, it is we who act! We are all called to be Jeremiah…in our own time and on our own scale. That is the sense in which God knew Jeremiah before he was formed and dedicated him before he was born. The function of the free and independent Other in the space-time universe is to broadcast God’s Word and to remove impediments to the realization of his Kingdom in the material/historical world (“Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven”). Whether the Other accepts that function and performs it, and how the Other performs it, are matters entirely outside God’s control. That’s your free will . The only thing certain is that someone, someday will step up. (It was Jeremiah then; will it be you today?) The praxis that draws the world toward its destiny is ultimately God’s, but it calls on others to project (speak) God’s vision (words) and to remove the world’s barriers (sin). Destiny is a lure, not an engraver’s plate. It works like a vacuum, created by the anticipation of what is not yet and by the negation (Sartre) of what already is. As such, God’s praxis draws the process we call “World” gently, unevenly, often imperceptibly, always unpredictably, but inevitably and inexorably toward its goal. In the New Testament we encounter John the Baptist, in many ways a later day version of Jeremiah. It is clear from the texts that God also knew John before he was formed and dedicated him before he was born. God also put his words on John’s tongue. John’s mission: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.” (Mt. 3:3) In fact, the world is in perpetual need of Jeremiahs (and Johns). Like the Tower of Babel, the world’s hardened structures need to be uprooted so that God’s praxis can perfect or replace them. Our Jeremiahs are indeed “appointed over nations and kingdoms” because existing social structures must always give way so that something greater and better can take their place: i.e. the Kingdom of God. Sin then, is another name for ‘institutional inertia’. Every earthly kingdom must someday be laid low so that “God may be all in all” (1 Cor. 15: 28). In this context, we may recognize in Jeremiah the world’s first genuine “anarchist”, and Jeremiah may be a ‘first edition’ of The Anarchist’s Cookbook ? Jeremiah rests on the certain belief that the world is inevitably evolving in a positive direction and that our primary job as political actors is to tear down those anti-social social structures that prevent the world from following its natural course, its Tao . “Grace is flowing like a river”…steadily and at all times. But so-called ‘vested interests’ erect barriers, damns that restrict or, worse, redirect that flow. Prophets (like Jeremiah) are ice breakers, clearing the jam and allowing the flow to resume its natural course. However much we may deny and resist it, we are all in our own ways prophets. Intentionally or not, we all uproot the old and plant the new…which God will ultimately harvest. Therefore, we are all known before we are formed and dedicated before we are born. We are not God’s tools, nor his robots, nor his slaves. Individually and collectively, we are that Other (‘Thou’) into whose eyes God perpetually stares. As the true ontological Other , we are by nature iconoclasts; as such, we are all called to participate in God’s praxis …however much we may “know not what we do”. David Cowles is the founder and editor-in-chief of Aletheia Today Magazine. He lives with his family in Massachusetts where he studies and writes about philosophy, science, theology, and scripture. He can be reached at david@aletheiatoday.com . purpose and devotion. Return to our 2024 Beach Read Previous Next

< Back Something or Nothing David Cowles Sep 19, 2024 “Nemo is not Odysseus’ name…or that of a fish…Nothing is not the potentiality of something; it is nothing.” It’s hard to imagine an easier question. Either it is…or it is not! But it turns out not to be so simple after all. Where to begin? How about with the opening verses of Genesis : “In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth – and the earth was without form or shape, with darkness over the abyss and a mighty wind sweeping over the waters…” Something? Or nothing? The ancient Hebrew uses Tohu and Bohu , Chaos and Void, to describe the primal condition. Is that something…or nothing? Chaos is the absence of order; void is the absence of substance (matter/energy). Is the absence of something something…or nothing? Parmenides, the father of Western philosophy, is clear: “ What is, is ungenerated and imperishable…Nor was it once, nor will it be, since it is now…” So is Genesis : “Then God said, let there be light and there was light…God then separated the light from the darkness.” What darkness? Presumably, the darkness that was over the abyss (above). God created the light and separated this light from darkness. Now is there something? You bet! Science tells us that light is waves and particles, substance and order. Creation is the creation of something . Whatever we imagine precedes the creative moment can reasonably be labeled ‘nothing’. According to Genesis , ‘something’ is walled off from all else, i.e. from darkness, Tohu and Bohu , Chaos and Void. It can’t be any plainer. Darkness and abyss, chaos and void, are not created by God; they are simply a way of saying “nothing”. But why does this matter? We are bedeviled by ‘dualism’, the idea that opposites are ontological parallels: hot and cold, wise and foolish, good and bad, being and nothingness. But there is no cold, nothing is foolish, nothing bad, and, it should go without saying, nothing that is ‘nothing’. Nemo is not Odysseus’ name…or that of a fish. What we call ‘cold’ is the absence of heat, ‘foolishness’ is the absence of wisdom, ‘bad’ the absence of good, ‘nothing’ the absence of something; ‘nemo’ is the absence of anyone. Christians believe that God created the Universe ex nihilo , out of nothing. Notice I don’t say post nihilo , ‘after nothing’, because there is nothing that precedes being, not even ‘nothingness’ per se . ‘Nothing’ is not ‘something in disguise’; it is nothing, no thing . ‘Nothing’ is not the potentiality of something; it is nothing. Some have suggested that the Christian doctrine of creatio ex nihilo contradicts the account of creation in Genesis . Nothing precedes creation. Tohu and Bohu , Chaos and Void, are metaphors for ‘nothing’ – the absence of any ‘thing’ (substance, matter/energy) and the absence of any ‘order’. We have built a whole cosmology around the ‘fake’ idea of nothing . We say, “Before Big Bang, there was nothing; after death, there is nothing.” But ‘there is nothing’ is not a well-formed English sentence; it’s meaningless gibberish. There is only one thing that can be said with absolute certainty: “It is!” Descartes notwithstanding, it’s not cogito or even sum , though these are important ideas; it’s est . You don’t need to have read philosophy at Cambridge (UK) or studied it in Cambridge (US). It was evident to Parmenides (above), and it was evident to the authors of Exodus : “I am who/what/that am.” (3: 14) It was evident to Jesus and John: “I am”. It was evident to a medieval Irish poet (possibly St. Dallan): “Naught is all else to me save that Thou art.” Now you may be noting that Jesus and Dallan are ‘personalizing’ being. Rightly so. What they call ‘God’, we are accustomed to call ‘Being’; God is Being, per se . BTW, defining God this way should eliminate any need for atheism or agnosticism. God is not a being among beings. God is Being, per se , through whom all that exist exist. Est , it is, he is. We have fallen in love with Real Numbers…and rightly so! They have taken us to the Moon and back. But the set of Real Numbers includes Zero and ‘0’ is a mathematical construct, useful, but a construct, nonetheless. Zero per se does not exist. How could it? It’s zero! Zero represents what does not exist! ‘Zero’ represents ‘nothing’ and ‘nothing’ is not something; ‘nothing’ does not exist. The Science of Probability fetishizes nothing . When something is impossible, we say its P = 0. ‘P = 0’ rolls off our tongues as if there is some sort of continuum between what is infinitesimally probable and what is absolutely impossible. Calculus notwithstanding, there is an infinite gap (filled with hyperreal numbers) between zero and ‘the smallest possible positive Real Number’. There is an infinite difference between what is unlikely (no matter how unlikely) and what is truly impossible. Proton decay is unlikely; a squared circle is impossible. Not the same thing! We are indebted to Jacques Derrida for the contemporary realization the being per se is quantized. Differánce is a quantum of difference, a quantum of est . Where does that leave our post-Parmenidean philosopher class? Pascal , for example, developed a complex logic to demonstrate the efficacy of belief in God; he needn’t have. God (as we use the term here) is, period. It is impossible to say otherwise. God cannot not exist, nor can anyone sincerely or meaningfully say otherwise. Perhaps God might not have been, I don’t know that, but he is. There is something rather than nothing. Something exists; nothing does not. It is undeniable. And Sartre? His Being and Nothingness ( Etre et Neant ) is the existentialist’s Bible, and justly so. But Sartre’s neant is ‘negation’; functionally, it’s a verb. It presupposes that there is something ( etre en soi ) to negate. The negation of something is still not nothing. In the Real World beyond the realm of Real Numbers, (~X) + X ≠ 0. Instead, Ι(~X) + XΙ = є. Or, in the words of my 5 year old grandson, “ Everything exists!” Keep the conversation going. 1. Click here to contact us on any matter. How did you like the post? How could we do better in the future? Suggestions welcome. 2. To subscribe (at no cost) to TWS and ATM, follow this link . 3. We encourage new articles and reprints from freelance writers ; click here to view out Writers’ Specs Previous Share Next Do you like what you just read and want to read more Thoughts? Subscribe today for free! Thoughts While Shaving - the official blog of Aletheia Today Magazine. Click here.

< Back Call Me a Dinosaur, I Won’t Use ChatGPT Deidre Braley "The fact of the matter is, we will never be like God, nor will we ever be able to create a system that knows everything, is capable of anything, and controls all things." “Have you heard about ChatGPT?” my husband asked one night as we ate pad thai from our laps on the couch. “No.” I rolled my eyes. “Is that something you heard about on your talk radio?” I wiggled my fingers for emphasis on that last bit. He’s always bringing home hot takes on the latest news. “Well yeah, but it’s everywhere. Everyone’s talking about it. It’s gonna be the next big thing. It writes anything you want for you. You just put in a few keywords and bam! You’ve got your newsletter, your sermon, your website content, whatever.” As someone who writes content for a living, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with this new development. “Yes, and I’m sure it’s generic and basic and boring, too.” I took a giant, disinterested bite from my chopsticks. “Let’s try it.” Before I could finish chewing and object, he had ChatGPT pulled up, cursor waiting. “What do you want it to write?” “Maybe it can do basic copy, but I doubt it can write a speech. Tell it to write a sermon or something. I’m sure it’s got its theology all wrong.” He entered a few keywords: ‘sermon on John 15.’ Instantly, a message materialized. I peered over the edge of his phone. “Read it to me.” In truth, it wasn’t bad. But it did lack any personal elements, and I pointed that out. “The power behind any good speaking is the ability to relate with the audience on a human level. AI simply can’t do that.” My husband entered, ‘add personal story,’ to the keyword bank. In a matter of moments, the sermon had been adjusted to include a personal story of overcoming addiction that somehow tied to the central themes of the message. I grimaced. Well, there’s the beginning of the end of my writing career, I sighed. I ate more noodles. Since then, ChatGPT has been popping up everywhere. In my inbox, in personal conversations, in the articles I read and the content that I follow, people are, in general, here for it. They say it’s inevitable, that it’s helpful, that it can cut time and costs, and we might as well use it for good. That this evolution of technology is a tale as old as time, and that only dinosaurs would bother to resist it. But in our home, it’s boycotted. Call me a dinosaur. See, there’s this personal element that makes ChatGPT so offensive. It’s as though it has taken all eighteen years of my schooling, every ounce of constructive feedback I’ve ever received and grown from, and the sum of the hundreds of thousands of hours I’ve spent reading and writing to develop my craft, and laughed and said, “You can’t possibly compete with my efficiency and breadth of knowledge. Your humanity is a handicap. Go find a new day job. That is, until I find a way to do that better, too.” But there’s something deeper that rubs uncomfortably against my humanity, and it’s the way that AI seems to be moving steadily toward the goal of omniscience. Not only is the very technology that we’re creating moving on a gleeful path to render us obsolete, it is also beginning to seem like an unfortunate reenactment of the scene in the garden of Eden, except with robots. “No! You (your humanity, your jobs, your creativity) will not die,” the tech gurus assure society. “In fact, God knows that when you eat it (partake in it, accept it, rely on it), your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God” (see Genesis 3:4-5, parenthetical phrases mine). "You’re being so dramatic!" the AI proponents will cry. But just as the serpent was so eager to point out the fun points of being like God and failed to mention the rest—being expelled from the garden, being cursed with weary toil and painful labor, facing death—those who push the propaganda that AI is for the betterment of the human race are being irresponsible when they omit the possibility for any negative implications. The fact of the matter is, we will never be like God, nor will we ever be able to create a system that knows everything, is capable of anything, and controls all things. Our efforts to do that only result in a separation from what makes being human worthwhile: a dependence on Someone greater, an interdependence on one another and the giftings he has given each of us, and the spark of the Holy Spirit that reveals mysterious things that this world can neither see nor understand (1 Corinthians 2:10). Dependence as a Gift Just because we can do something doesn’t mean we should. How tempting it is—to see the possibility of creating systems that will make everything streamlined, instant, accessible, and unlimited—and want to lunge toward it, to bring humanity to a new level of efficiency and ease. To make a name for ourselves and to usher in an era of increased self-reliance. These were the people who brought us AI, people will say. Can you even imagine the world without it? It’s not a new temptation. Think of the Tower of Babel; the people who settled in Shinar realized one day that they could make bricks and mortar, and suddenly they began to take “the sky’s the limit” with shocking literalism: “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth” (Genesis 11:4 NIV). I used to be a little miffed by God’s response. He saw what they were doing, realized that if they kept working together like this nothing would be impossible for them, and then confused them by giving them different languages and spreading them all over the earth (Genesis 11:5-9). Let the people have this! I’d think. Teamwork makes the dream work! And if they wanted to work together to build a really tall tower, well, where was the real harm in that? But God can see the implications of our actions far past our own nearsightedness. The people saw a tower, God saw their hubris destroying them. The people saw security in self-reliance, God saw them forgetting that security comes from him alone. The people saw a magnificent plan, but God saw the holes shot all through it and saw it fit to humble them. In his omniscient goodness, God scattered the people all over the earth before they could live out the lie that glory and self-sufficiency are superior to his love and security. While it’s unlikely they were thrilled with this outcome, they lacked the foresight and understanding to acknowledge that their forced dependence on God was a gift—he was protecting them from being destroyed by their own humanity. I haven’t a single doubt that ChatGPT will continue to grow and be refined. People will spend their entire lives working to perfect it, and they will be applauded for it. The tower will reach higher, the fortress of AI will be strengthened—but to what end? Will our own nearsightedness lead us into something we haven’t bargained for? The Value of Interdependence Speaking of nearsightedness, the self-checkout line at Target makes me sad. And the self-order kiosks at restaurants strike me as miniature tragedies—proof of a regression for humanity, rather than progress. They seem to be evidence that our society has moved away from valuing people as living, human beings to thinking of them instead as expensive roadblocks to growth. Of course, people are costly in every sense of the word: they cost money and time and emotional investment. From a business perspective, it makes perfect sense to eliminate as many as possible. In terms of ChatGPT, for example, why take the time to sit down with a content creator and discuss the unique needs of your business when you can enter a handful of keywords into a website and have your content generated instantaneously? Plus, how can you compete with free? Human minds are expensive, unpredictable, and limited. They have feelings and opinions. OpenAI removes the need to deal with any of that. But come now. We aren’t so naive as to believe that there’s no cost to making decisions to cut expenses. When we decide to eliminate human interaction—whether in designing content for our websites or ordering french fries at Applebee’s—we are saying, in effect, that we can do it ourselves. That we’ve got our own talents and abilities, and whatever we haven’t got, our technology will make up for it. We’ve got this. I often think of an anecdote I once heard about a small village in Africa. Every day, the women of the village would go to the river to wash their laundry. They would talk and share and laugh and cry together while laboring over their wash. Over time, the women began to get washing machines in their houses, and they didn’t have to go down to the river anymore. They could push a button and move on with their days, right from the comfort of their homes. But, as the months and years progressed, something unexpected happened: the women realized they did not feel that their lives were enhanced by the efficiency and ease the laundry machines had brought, but rather noticed that they felt more melancholy, more anxious, and more alone. The new technology had eliminated the necessity of coming together each day at the river and, unintentionally, had unraveled the fabric of their community. We do the same every time we welcome new technology that allows us to keep our time, energy, and money to ourselves at the expense of human interaction. Just as Paul wrote, “The eye can’t say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you!’ The head can’t say to the feet, ‘I don’t need you!’ we cannot, in good faith, look at our fellow humans and say, “I’ve reached a point where I don’t need you anymore. I can do it all myself” (1 Corinthians 12:21). In doing so, we’re rejecting the inalienable truth that we’ve been designed for community, that we are, in fact, limited, and that it is when our giftings work in interdependence that we’ll feel most satisfied, supported, and successful. The Holy Spirit as Creative Genius Finally—and this is my coup de grâce—there is one thing that ChatGPT will never be able to replicate or harness, and that is the creative genius of the Holy Spirit. While AI might be more efficient, more expansive, and more cost-effective than the human mind, it will never be able to tap into this one superpower that is only accessible to humanity. And not for a moment should this power be mocked or dismissed. In a world where content is oozing out of our phones and televisions and radios and watches, information feels cheap. Much of it is formulaic, and even if the information is new, it is palpably devoid of any real spark or magic. The Holy Spirit can offer that magic. God says, “Call to me and I will answer you, and I will tell you great and mighty things, which you do not know” (Jeremiah 33:3). God—the creator of the universe, who is a well of deep mystery and creative brilliance—invites his people to ask him anything, and then promises to answer. And answer, he will. As a writer, I can attest to this wild and wonderful mystery. The level of originality and truth in my work is directly related to the amount of Holy Spirit it is infused with. And the level of connection it makes with my audience is a powerful indicator of how well I was able to tune into His whispers while I wrote. Work without the Holy Spirit falls flat. Work with it, however, rings magical and fascinating and unique and true. In this way, the human spirit wins. ChatGPT is a robot, and its lack of soul will forever be its downfall. I have this dream that one day society will step back from its advancements, look up and look around, and realize that its deepest and truest needs are not actually more knowledge, efficiency, or ease, but rather connection, thoughtfulness, and its ability to depend on God and others for nourishment. At the end of the day, the question of AI isn’t about the usefulness of ChatGPT or self-help kiosks; their value is easy to see. The real question is: Just because we can do it, does it mean we should? Is it worth it to eat the fruit, if it means we will lose the Garden? Deidre Braley is a freelance writer and editor. She lives in Maine with her husband and two children, and most days can be found savoring an overly cheesy bagel or drinking a second cup of coffee while working on her weekly newsletter, The Second Cup . She is a strong believer in the power of poetry, picking roadside flowers, and blowing past small talk at all costs. Follow her on Instagram @deidresecondcup or on Facebook — she loves meeting new friends. Return to our AI Issue Table of Contents Previous Next

"Faith is not belief without evidence; it's the content of a relationship with God and is based upon the private experience of God's love." < Back Faith Is Not Belief Without Evidence Joseph Hinman Jan 15, 2024 "Faith is not belief without evidence; it's the content of a relationship with God and is based upon the private experience of God's love." I am tired of hearing atheists say "faith is believing things without evidence." No definition of faith in Christianity says that. Let's Get this out of the way up front. Heb 11:1: faith is the substance of things to be hoped for, the argument (argumentum) of things that are not apparent. Most translations say "evidence of things not seen."This does not say faith is belief without evidence it says faith itself is a kind of evidence because it points to the reality that caused one to have faith. The most important dictionary in theology is the Westminster Dictionary of Christian Theology. There are two kinds, one for theologians and one for ideas. Let's consult the latter. faith (Gr. pistis, Lat. fides, “trust,” “belief”) In Christianity, belief, trust, and obedience to God as revealed in Jesus Christ. It is the means of salvation (Eph. 2:8–9) or eternal life (John 6:40). Faith affects all dimensions of one’s existence: intellect, emotions, and will. See also salvation.[1] According to that definition there is nothing like a lack of evidence. There Is no hint that faith involves a lack of evidence. Consulting the same source for different uses of the term "faith:" Faith, explicit (Lat. fides explicita) Faith in that of which one has knowledge. Thus the term may be understood as referring to what one professes to believe because of what is known.[2] Here faith is equated with knowledge. Since evidence involves knowledge and builds on knowledge it would seem that faith is actually dependent upon evidence rather than being without it. Faith, implicit (Lat. fides implicita) The Roman Catholic view that one believes as true “what the church believes,” even without certain knowledge. It was rejected by the Protestant Reformers as a true faith because the element of knowledge was lacking.[3] The Catholic view seems closer to being without evidence, but not an exact fit. In any case that view was rejected by the reformers and is not really compatible with the Protestant view.The Protestant view rests upon knowledge, which again, would have to involve evidence at some point. Thus direct contradiction to the atheist bromide. Then we turn to the protestant notion of "saving faith." That is faith that saves. Remember Paul tells us salvation is by Grace through faith:“For by grace you have been saved through faith” (Ephesians 2:8).[4] Faith, saving. The gift of God through the Holy Spirit whereby one accepts and believes the promises of the Gospel as the reception of salvation through the life and the work of Jesus Christ. One is incorporated into Christ, participates in his benefits, and is an heir of eternal life. [4] No indication is given that there is no preliminary basis for belief which might involve evidence.Before one can trust God one must believe that God is. None of these definitions preclude basing that initial belief upon evidence. It is after one accepts the conviction that God is real that faith might supersede evidence in matters such as trusting God for salvation. Let's turn to some major figures in Christian theology to see if they define faith as belief without evidence: St. Augustine Faith, to Augustine, is a humble posture of seeking and confession, in which the individual confesses their sin and brokenness before God, and by his Grace, is cleansed. The individual surrenders to the God who is already present in the soul. This initial work begins the process of cleansing the soul so that it can see clearly. As the individual continues to seek God, the soul is continually cleansed as a gracious process, which slowly flakes away the filth of the Fall. Augustine believed that much could be known through Platonic meditation: eternal things and God’s presence could be apprehended, but God could be known only for a moment.[5] Thomas Aquinas Popular accounts of religion sometimes construe faith as a blind, uncritical acceptance of myopic doctrine. According to Richard Dawkins, “faith is a state of mind that leads people to believe something—it doesn’t matter what—in the total absence of supporting evidence...Such a view of faith might resonate with contemporary skeptics of religion. But as we shall see, this view is not remotely like the one Aquinas—or historic Christianity for that matter—endorses. To begin with, Aquinas takes faith to be an intellectual virtue or habit, the object of which is God (ST IIaIIae 1.1; 4.2). There are other things that fall under the purview of faith, such as the doctrine of the Trinity and the Incarnation. But we do not affirm these specific doctrines unless they have some relation to God. According to Aquinas, these doctrines serve to explicate God’s nature and provide us with a richer understanding of the one in whom our perfect happiness consists (Ibid.).[6] Here again knowledge, an intellectual thing, compatible with evidence. How could faith be based upon knowledge and be an intellectual act and yet without evidence? By intellectual he means one consciously assents to belief. Marin Luther ... faith is God's work in us, that changes us and gives new birth from God. (John 1:13). It kills the Old Adam and makes us completely different people. It changes our hearts, our spirits, our thoughts and all our powers. It brings the Holy Spirit with it. Yes, it is a living, creative, active and powerful thing, this faith. Faith cannot help doing good works constantly. It doesn't stop to ask if good works ought to be done, but before anyone asks, it already has done them and continues to do them without ceasing. Anyone who does not do good works in this manner is an unbeliever. He stumbles around and looks for faith and good works, even though he does not know what faith or good works are. Yet he gossips and chatters about faith and good works with many words. Faith is a living, bold trust in God's grace, so certain of God's favor that it would risk death a thousand times trusting in it. Such confidence and knowledge of God's grace makes you happy, joyful and bold in your relationship to God and all creatures. The Holy Spirit makes this happen through faith. Because of it, you freely, willingly and joyfully do good to everyone, serve everyone, suffer all kinds of things, love and praise the God who has shown you such grace.[7] John Wesley With a deep conviction, Wesley repeatedly stresses the necessity of faith. ‘Saving faith is a sure trust and confidence which a man has in God, that by the merits of Christ his sins are forgiven, and he is reconciled to the favour of God.’1 It is also clear that Wesley sees faith as a gift of God, although he does not emphasize that very much.[8] There is an initial coming to faith where one decides "I do believe in God." In that stage evidence is not a contradiction to belief. Most of the activity of faith involves personal trust in God's salvation and his providential care. In this regard evidece is irrelivant, unless we want to think of the content of personal experience of God as evidence.It is evidence of God's goodness. I think for the most part evidence is irrelevant to faith. Faith is not belief without evidence, it's the content of a relationship with God and is based upon the private experience of God's love. Source: This originally appeared in Metacrock's Blog and is seen here without any edits. Notes [1] "Faith," The Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms,SECOND EDITION, Revised and Expanded,Donald K. McKim ed.,Louiscille Kentucky:John Knox Press, 2014. https://www.mybibleteacher.net/uploads/1/2/4/6/124618875/the_westminster_dictionary_of_theological_terms_by_donald_k._mckim__z-lib.org_.epub.pdf [2] Ibid. [3] Ibid. [4] Ibid. [5] Mark Hansard, "Faith and Reason, Part 2 Augustine," Intervaristy: Emerging Scholars Network, (August 18,2018) https://blog.emergingscholars.org/2018/08/faith-and-reason-part-2-augustine-summer-2018-series/ [6]Shawn Floyd,"Aquinas Philosoph8ical Theology,"Internet Encyclopedia of Philosphy, https://iep.utm.edu/thomas-aquinas-political-theology/#SH3a [7]An excerpt from "An Introduction to St. Paul's Letter to the Romans," Luther's German Bible of 1522 by Martin Luther, 1483-1546. Translated by Rev. Robert E. Smith from DR. MARTIN LUTHER'S VERMISCHTE DEUTSCHE SCHRIFTEN. Johann K. Irmischer, ed. Vol. 63 Erlangen: Heyder and Zimmer, 1854), pp.124-125. [EA 63:124-125] https://www.ligonier.org/learn/articles/martin-luthers-definition-faith [8]J. W. Maris, "John Wesley's Concept of Faith," Christian Library taken from Lux Mundi 2010 https://www.christianstudylibrary.org/article/john-wesleys-concept-faith https://www.amazon.com/dp/0982408765 Joseph Hinman's new book is God, Science and Ideology. Hinman argues that atheists and skeptics who use science as a barrier to belief in God are not basing doubt on science itself but upon an ideology that adherer's to science in certain instances. This ideology, "scientism," assumes that science is the only valid form of knowledge and rules out religious belief. Hinman argues that science is neutral with respect to belief in God … In this book Hinman with atheist positions on topics such as consciousness and the nature of knowledge, puts to rest to arguments of Lawrence M. Krauss, Victor J. Stenger, and Richard Dawkins, and delimits the areas for potential God arguments. Click above to return to Winter 2024. Share Previous Next Click here. Do you like what you just read? 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< Back Apocalypse Now! David Cowles “We are not midway through the Second Act of a Mystery Play called Salvation… Brunhilda has sung; we just need to applaud!” (We are not waiting for the Apocalypse, it’s already here, now. Celebrate!) Christian eschatology is organized around two key concepts: Apocalypse and Parousia , ancient Greek words commonly translated as ‘revelation’ and ‘coming’ respectively. Such translations are not wrong; but neither are they optimal. Apocalypse primarily means ‘uncovering’ or ‘unveiling’. It can convey a sense of revelation, not in the way that one might ‘reveal’ a secret, but rather in the way one might ‘uncover’ something hidden beneath a surface. Think of the bride’s face that is ‘revealed’ at her ‘unveiling’. Parousia in turn means ‘presence’; it is derived from another Greek word, parontes , that means ‘near’ or ‘at hand’. In special contexts, it can have the sense of ‘coming’ (coming to be present) but ‘presence’ is the core concept here. Because of sub-optimal translation, Christian eschatology has been understood as the revelation of future events, the most of important of which is the second coming of Christ. This misunderstanding has inflicted untold misery on the Church. For example, New Testament texts are almost unanimous in their portrayal of Parousia as immanent; how then can it be that we are still waiting…2000 years later? Likewise, the understanding of Apocalypse as related to future events has led to gross misinterpretations of history: The world will end on Christmas Day, 1285…or is it 2185? Is Hitler ‘the beast’? Or Stalin ‘the anti-Christ’? And where does Nostradamus fit? How different would the development of Christian eschatology have been if we had properly understood Apocalypse as ‘uncovering’ or ‘unveiling’ and Parousia as ‘presence’! We would never have lost our way in the forests of the future ; we would always have known that we were talking about something that already is. Apocalypse is simply the ‘unveiling’ of Parousia , Christ’s ‘presence’. Jesus’ words at the close of Matthew’s Gospel (28: 18 – 20) testify to that presence: “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me…and behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.” Tellingly, Jesus did not say, “All power in heaven and on earth will be given to me someday…and then I will be with you.” We are not midway through the Second Act of a Mystery Play called Salvation . The play is already over, Brunhilda has sung; we just need to applaud! Consider Jesus’ final words at the moment of his death on the cross, “It is finished.” (Jn. 19:30), not “We’ve only just begun” (Carpenters). Then check out Matthew’s account of the crucifixion: “…Jesus cried out again in a loud voice and gave up his spirit. And behold, the veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom.” (Mt. 27: 50 – 51) The ‘sanctuary’ Matthew refers to is the Holy of Holies in the Jerusalem temple; the ‘veil’ is what hides God’s dwelling place from human eyes. At the moment of Jesus’ death, the veil is torn in two, revealing God’s dwelling to the world, and therefore revealing God’s universal presence. Sidebar : Torah conflates God’s dwelling place with God’s presence. The splitting of the veil makes it clear: God’s presence is no longer hidden; the ‘Holy of Holies’ is now the Universe. This quite literally is the Apocalypse ! But in a broader sense, Apocalypse can be understood as a process. It begins with Creation and continues uninterrupted to the end of time, except that from God’s perspective, all this happens in the Present. Law ( Written and Oral Torah ), history, wisdom and prophesy all work together to reveal Christ’s immediate presence in the world. There is no contradiction here. William Blake properly understood the relationship between the immediate and the eternal: “To see a World in a Grain of Sand and a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand and Eternity in an hour.” Apocalypse assumes a special focus and a new intensity in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus’ Nativity, Baptism, and Transfiguration, his parables, miracles, Crucifixion, Resurrection and Ascension, all work toward a single end: the manifestation of Christ’s presence ( Parousia ). And who is this Christ who was present then, is present now, and will be present to the end of time? “When everything is subjected to him (Christ), then the Son himself (Christ) will be subjected to the one (God) who subjected everything to him (Christ), so that God may be all in all.” (I Cor. 15: 28) The eternal, universal presence of Christ ( Parousia ) is indicative of a God that is all in all. But the apocalyptic process does not abruptly end with Jesus’ Resurrection and subsequent Ascension. On Pentecost, Christ sends his Holy Spirit into the world, perpetuating the Apocalyptic Age until the end of time. The Church itself and each of its Sacraments point to Christ’s presence. The Church is Christ’s “Mystical Body” (vs. Jesus’ biological body) and Christ himself is in every sacrament, but in a special, material way in the Sacrament of Eucharist. “This is my body…this is the cup of my blood…do this in memory of me.” With these words, Jesus consecrated and then distributed the ‘bread and wine’ ritually consumed at the Passover meal. By this act, Jesus assured his disciples that his material presence was not confined to his biological body and that it would not vanish with the destruction (or glorification or ascension) of that body. Through the sacrament of Eucharist, Jesus demonstrated that his physical presence utterly transcends the limitations of mortality. Christ is present everywhere and at all times (God is all in all). But the Eucharist demonstrates that Jesus’ presence is at least potentially material at any place and at any time. Through the sacrament of Eucharist, transubstantiation occurs many times every day all around the world. Each time, Jesus is present. But his presence is not merely spiritual; it is just as physical after transubstantiation as the bread and wine were before. The Sacrament of Eucharist is the real physical presence of Christ in the world but, like all sacraments, it is also a sign. Eucharist symbolizes nothing less than the ultimate transubstantiation of the entire material world into the body and blood of Christ “…so that God may be all in all”. Therefore, the Sacrament of Eucharist, every time it is celebrated, is “Apocalypse Now!” It constitutes Parousia and it reveals Christ’s material presence. Traditionally, folks have thought of Apocalypse as synonymous with the end of the world, as something that happens at the ‘end of time’ (like Douglas Adam’s Restaurant at the End of the Universe ). But Apocalypse is not something that will happen billions of years from now; it ‘is now and ever shall be’. It exists outside of space and time and so is co-present with all things at all times in all places. In Eucharist, the elements retain the appearance of bread and wine, but they are substantially transformed into Christ’s body and blood. ‘Attributes’ create the appearance of bread and wine; but the ‘substance’ is Christ. British philosopher, Alfred North Whitehead, in his magnum opus, Process and Reality , presents a detailed model for the process by which conflicts become contrasts which in turn harmonize into new unities, “so that God may be all in all”. But we can find a similar but simpler model in each of the seven sacraments: Baptism, Penance, Matrimony, et al. Each brings about new unity out of what was previously an isolated or conflicted state. Christ is present in the sacraments because the sacraments effect the harmonization that is his essence. Commutatively, the sacraments effect unification and harmonization precisely because Christ is present. This is true for Eucharist, of course, but it is also true for each of the other sacraments. But Eucharist is really three sacraments in one because it effects that harmonization in three distinct ways: (1) It builds community through the common meal (‘messe’ or Mass). (2) In communion, the consumption of the so-called ‘bread and wine’, materially integrates Christ into the body of each communicant. (3) But by ‘commutative topology’, each communicant is simultaneously integrated into the body of Christ (so that God may be all in all). In Eucharist, not only is Christ present as the agent and the product of harmonization but Christ is materially present in the transubstantiated elements which merely retain the appearance of bread and wine. Eucharist truly is Apocalypse Now ! David Cowles is the founder and editor-in-chief of Aletheia Today Magazine. He lives with his family in Massachusetts where he studies and writes about philosophy, science, theology, and scripture. He can be reached at david@aletheiatoday.com . Return to Groundhog Issue 2025 Previous Next

< Back Ethics and the Works of Mercy David Cowles Nov 7, 2023 “The Past is what it is, the Future will be what will be. We are just here, now!” Rule of thumb : Any 10 philosophers on the head of a pin = 18 different ethical systems! Most of us cling to a childhood confidence that ethics can be reduced to a series of commandments, a list of dos and don'ts, and the convergence of the 4 P’s: priest, parent, pedagogue , and police . Since 1500 CE, we have eagerly shifted our ethical focus away from the concrete act per se and onto the imputed ‘intentions’ behind the act (psychology) and/or its mythical ‘consequences’ (political science). “Act? What act?” The Future is nothing but a mirror image of the Past: New chairs, same deck! From Machiavelli (‘ends justify means’) to Mill (‘greatest good for the greatest number’) to Marx (‘dictatorship of the proletariat’) to Malcolm (‘by any means necessary’), we have made a pact to suppress the Present (action) and amplify the Past (intention) and the Future (consequence). We have deceived ourselves into believing that modern pragmatism is a smooth continuation of an ethical heritage that traces back to Moses and Socrates. It’s not! Moses did not lead the Exodus because he wanted to experiment with a new social contract or because he dreamed of enjoying a more lavish lifestyle in the ‘Land of Milk and Honey’, Canaan. Moses did it because Liberation per se is an ethical imperative. As we’ll see (below), it is one of the Works of Mercy , albeit writ large. The ethics of Moses, Socrates, Jesus, and Marcus Aurelius are consistent with their cosmologies. Our ethics…not so much! Example: Chaos Theory renders any ‘consequence-based’ morality untenable. No event ‘causes’ any other event; therefore, no event is to blame for any other event. On the other hand, every event is responsible for itself; it is its own intention and its own consequence. According to the ‘standard model’, an Event is simply the Past acting through the Present to secure the Future (Darwin, Freud, Trotsky, Skinner, Derrida, et al.). I am the accidental battlefield on which various cosmic forces contend: Michael vs. Lucifer, God vs. Satan, Arjuna vs. his kinsmen. According to this ontology, ‘to do’ is active voice in form only; in fact, it can have only one voice: the passive voice. I am the passive product of my Past projecting its ‘image’ onto my Future. Our morality, therefore, contradicts our ontology. It requires us to take full responsibility for events over which we have no control and to shun all responsibility for events over which we have total control. We’ve stood the Serenity Prayer on its head: “God grant me the serenity to accept things I could have changed but didn’t, and the courage to change things that can’t be altered.” According to contemporary ethics, “the devil made me so it…or it was an accident; I inherited bad genes…or bad Karma; I grew up poor…or posh; I was abused…or neglected, and of course, I was under the influence of alcohol and drugs.” This contradiction is crystallized in the structure of most modern Indo-European languages: noun (subject) → verb (active voice) → noun (object). Past (noun) → Present (verb) → Future (noun). The active/passive voice is well suited to describe the transition from Past (subject) to Future (object): I dig a hole in the ground so that I can pour concrete. Most of us assume without reflection that this formula describes something that is a substructural feature of being itself: intention → action → consequence; I mean, how else could it be? Well, instead of Past (subject) → Present (verb) → Future (object), try Past (co-subject) → Present (verb) ← Future (co-subject) or Past (co-object) ← Present (verb) → Future (co-object). The difference appears subtle, but in fact, it is tectonic…to the extent that anything in philosophy can be ‘tectonic’. According to consensus, the contrast of Past and Future constitutes the Present. But according to our ‘alternative models’ (above), every Present determines its own Past and its own Future. It is easy to express an ethics based on intentions (Past) or consequences (Future), using active/passive verb forms. But how about an ethics divorced from any consideration of Past or Future, an ethics focused entirely on the Act per se , the Present? That would require an alternate voice: a Middle Voice , interactive and/or reflexive. Originally, Middle Voice may have been the dominant voice; today, it has disappeared or atrophied in most Indo-European languages. Now consider the Works of Mercy ! The first known reference to these Works, Corporal and Spiritual, comes from the theologian Pseudo-Isidore, a Frankish monk, writing around 550 CE. T he Works of Mercy focus on the material and spiritual needs of other creatures. They are consistent with the Great Commandment and the Golden Rule. They trace back to Chapter 25 of the Gospel of Matthew, but they are also mentioned in the Old Testament (Isaiah and Tobit): Feed the hungry. Water the thirsty. Clothe the naked. Shelter the homeless. Visit the sick. Liberate captives. Bury the dead. Instruct the ignorant. Counsel the doubtful. Admonish sinners. Bear wrongs patiently. Forgive offenses. Comfort the sorrowful. Pray for the living and the dead. These ‘new commandments’ make no reference to Past or Future, only Present. In fact, what makes these Works ethically imperative is precisely that they are divorced from motives and consequences. They just are! A recent Thoughts While Shaving mentioned Michael Kelly’s Holy Moments . His ‘Holy Moments’ are moments of kindness, of being there for others. In other words, performing the Works of Mercy ! The Past consists of ‘settled matters of fact’ – we can’t do anything about it. The Future is indeterminate; we can’t control it. We can only control the Present, the moment, the act. The Past is what it is, the Future will be what will be. We are just here, now! Keep the conversation going! 1. Click here to comment on this TWS. 2. To subscribe (at no cost) to TWS and ATM, follow this link . 3. We encourage new articles and reprints from freelance writers ; click here to view out Writers’ Specs. Previous Share Next Do you like what you just read and want to read more Thoughts? Subscribe today for free! Thoughts While Shaving - the official blog of Aletheia Today Magazine. Click here.

< Back The World Series David Cowles Oct 27, 2025 “The World Series is stochastic. A team cannot carry over excess runs from one game to offset a future scoring deficit.” In professional baseball, the champion is the team that wins 4 games (out of 7) in the World Series. Typically, the first two games are played on the home field of one team, the next three games on the home field of the other, and then back to the initial venue for the final two games (if needed). It’s not rocket science; a precious 6 year old can grasp it. It is not uncommon for the ‘home team’ to win the first two games. That does not by any means guarantee that that team will win the series. The other team now has ‘home field advantage’ (i.e. 3 out of the 5 remaining games will be played on its home field). After the first two games, we still have no idea which team will win the Series but we do know that one team will win it and that it will take no more than 5 additional games to determine that winner. This much is certain. Still, after the first two games, our ‘home field winner’ is half way to the goal of 4 wins while their opponent is just getting started…maybe. Does this remind you of anything? How about a certain road race alleged to have taken place in Greece more than 3000 years ago? According to legend, as reported by the philosopher Zeno, a certain tortoise challenged the great Achilles (the Usain Bolt of his day) to a road race. As expected, Achilles declined; it would be demeaning for him to leave a lowly reptile in the dust. So the tortoise upped the ante, “Ok then, how about you give me a head start, say half the distance to the Finish Line?” Now Achilles was a clever boy; he knew that he could run at least 10 times as fast as the tortoise so catching up should not be a problem. By giving the tortoise a substantial head start, he can blow him away and still preserve his precious classical honor. Plus, his Saudi friends had put up a sizeable pot of prize money. And then there’s always the chance of making some lucrative side bets with naïve punters in the crowd. So, honor intact, Achilles accepts the challenge! Gotcha! Not so clever after all, are you, Troy Boy ? Achilles has fallen into the tortoise’s trap; he has agreed to a wager he cannot possibly win. But the future hero of Troy positions himself at the Starting Line, brimming with bravado. The challenger takes his place half way to the Finish Line; the crowd is surprised, and somewhat disconcerted, by the reptile’s quiet air of sly self-confidence. “Is there something going on here that we’ve missed?” You ‘bet’ there is (pun intended)! Achilles knows that he can run 100 meters in 10 seconds or less without breaking a sweat. So just 5 seconds after the starting gun is fired, Achilles has caught up to the tortoise; except, of course, he hasn’t. While Achilles was busy getting himself to the 50 meter line, the tortoise was also moving forward, albeit at a slower pace. After the same 5 seconds, the tortoise has just 45 meters left to go (vs. Achilles’ 50). So once again, Achilles needs to catch up and this time he only needs a half second to do so (5 meters); except of course, once again, the tortoise has moved on. Our contestants repeat this process over and over, but Achilles never quite catches his nemesis. Gradually it dawns on Achilles, the punters, and the fans that Achilles will not catch the tortoise…ever! The tortoise made a lot of money on side bets that day and he used it to build a Jurassic theme park dedicated to the preservation of endangered reptilian species. The world is a better, richer, more diverse place because of Achilles’ blind arrogance. But why is this result different from the outcome of the World Series (above)? Achilles’ difficulties stem from the fact that we all assume that spacetime is continuous, i.e. that it is infinitely divisible into ever smaller units. The World Series is not continuous; it is stochastic. It consists of no more than 7 games, and each game is a discrete event with a definite outcome. One game does not bleed into another. A team cannot carry over ‘excess runs’ from one game to jump start the next or use those runs to offset a future scoring deficit . Are you posh enough to play golf? Or are you, like me, content to watch Rory on the tube? Either way, you know that a game of golf can be organized in either of two ways: Match Play works like the World Series. Every hole stands on its own: you win, you lose, or you tie. With Medal Play shots accumulate over 18 holes and the winner is not determined until the last ice cube drops into a glass on the 19th green. Now, here’s what’s kept us focused on Zeno’s Paradox for more than two millennia: IRL, we all know that Achilles wins easily…even though we’ve proven that he can’t. There must be something wrong with our assumptions… and indeed there is! Our assumption (above) that spacetime is continuous must be false. In fact, we now know thanks to Einstein & the Quantum Mechanics that spacetime is made up of tiny, Planck size units; it’s not a flowing river, Heraclitus, it’s a post-industrial foam. The Planck bubbles are so small that for most purposes we can treat spacetime as though it were a continuum…but it isn’t. And because it isn’t, no slimy reptile stands a chance against our GOAT…and no World Series lasts more than 7 games. *** Marjorie Phillips — Night Baseball (1951) depicts a vivid evening at Griffith Stadium under the glow of newly installed floodlights. The artist captures the tension of the game as players, umpires, and fans are illuminated by artificial light, emphasizing the novelty and spectacle of night sports. Her use of bold color and simplified forms reflects both the excitement of baseball and the mid-century fascination with progress and modern leisure. Previous Share Next Do you like what you just read and want to read more Thoughts? Subscribe today for free! 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< Back Is Universe a Quantum Computer David Cowles Aug 8, 2024 “We create a classical likeness of quantum reality. We run a virtual machine on the quantum software that is the universe.” Recently, a friend I’d made in the 60’s asked, “What is the Universe, really?” Immediately, the standard answers sprang to mind: Space and time, matter and energy, position and momentum, inertia and acceleration. Then my friend’s question got me thinking. (Heaven forbid!) Before we transcended gender dimorphism, we relied on sexist memes to order our social world: “Girls are sugar and spice and everything nice; boys are snips and snails and puppy dog tails”. Might cosmology’s accepted wisdom be similarly facile…and wrong? Fortunately, my friend supplied his own answer: “I think the universe is a quantum computer.” Of course it is! What else could it be? The known universe consists of at least 10^80 bits of information. According to classical cosmology, each bit has one of two values: 1 or 0. That’s what makes ‘information’ information. Flip a bit! 1 becomes 0 or 0 becomes 1. Either way it’s an isolated event; the rest of the Universe remains as it was. All change, like ‘all politics’ (Tip O’Neil), is local. In quantum cosmology, however, each bit is in a state of quantum superposition: not 1 or 0, but 1 and 0. While in classical computing, each bit has but one value (1 or 0) at time, in quantum computing, each bit has two values (1 and 0). In classical computing, all events are local; their impact on one another is mitigated by Newton’s inverse square law. In a quantum computer, on the other hand, each bit is potentially ‘entangled’ with other bits so that determining the value (1 or 0) of one bit simultaneously determines the value of another bit, regardless of that bit’s relative position in the cosmos. According to Hugh Everett’s Many Worlds Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics (1957), every time a bit flips a new universe comes into being. The result is powerful, albeit extravagant…and messy! Nonetheless, most cosmologists today subscribe to some version of Everett’s model. Everett ‘interpreted’ quantum phenomena according to a classical framework. He had drunk the Kool Aid: ‘the quantum world is embedded in the classical’. But by treating the entire universe as a quantum phenomenon, we’re able to conserve the power of Evertt’s interpretation…without the mess. Everett assumed that each unique combination of 1’s and 0’s constitutes a novel universe. Without superposition and entanglement, it’s hard to come to any other conclusion. Reframing this model in quantum mechanical terms allows us to achieve the same result within a single universe, as long as that entire universe is entangled and in superposition. Why didn’t Everett think of that? Well, for one thing, the principle of ‘non-locality’ (entanglement) was not discovered until 1964 (Bell). But beyond that, it was scientific dogma at the time that quantum phenomena could occur only on extremely small scales...certainly not on the scale of the cosmos. How do local systems in superposition acquire classical values? Schoedinger’s cat, basking in a sort of suspended animation, learns its fate only when some ‘outside agent’ interacts with the experimental apparatus. Interestingly, if puss discovers it’s dead, it will have been dead for some time prior to realizing it. Quantum mechanics does funky things with time. (Feynman) Universe, however, by definition, has no outside agent – unless you wish to invoke God. But that is not necessary, at least not at this point. A feature of Universe, indeed a feature of all systems, is that it interacts with itself. It is incurably recursive. Contrary to Bertrand Russell, IRL every ‘real’ set is a subset of itself . The whole is one of its parts. So the concept of Incarnation applies not only in theology but also in cosmology. Incarnation is not an exception to the laws of physics, it is a law of physics. To paraphrase Alfred North Whitehead, God does not reflect a suspension of the ‘rules’; God is the paradigmatic expression of those rules. Therefore, a change in one part of a system entails a change in the whole while a change in the whole entails a change in at least one part. Sets that are not recursive in this way are merely useful mathematical abstractions. The universe, the set of all sets including itself, is in a permanent state of ‘self-assessment’. As a result, it manifests classical values at all times. But this is misleading. Those contingent classical values (Kant’s phenomena) mask substructural quantum reality (noumena). As Universe observes and interacts with itself, we experience consciousness and agency (free will). The phenomenon that you, acting recursively, experience as ‘you’ is a function of the Universe being aware of itself (consciousness) and acting on itself (agency). Every time an agent (e.g. you) makes a choice, i.e. exercises free will and acts on it, multiple potential values collapse down to a single actual value, mimicking a classical world. We create a classical likeness of quantum reality. We run a virtual machine on the quantum software that is the universe. We convert pure potentiality into settled actuality. So yes, Virginia, Universe is a quantum computer. Keep the conversation going. 1. Click here to comment on this TWS. 2. To subscribe (at no cost) to TWS and ATM, follow this link . 3. We encourage new articles and reprints from freelance writers ; click here to view out Writers’ Specs. Keep the conversation going. Previous Share Next Do you like what you just read and want to read more Thoughts? Subscribe today for free! Thoughts While Shaving - the official blog of Aletheia Today Magazine. Click here.

< Back Haiku Be courageous, take the leap. Dream it? Be it! Faith…not just Belief! (With credit to The Rocky Horror Picture Show) Autumn empty now, Leaves bore into soggy ground. Birds fold into clouds. (After Basho – 17th Century) Somewhere in the void, souls sojourn naked, awake. We are Resplendent. (Richard Blankenship) We build barricades - Kith and kin and kind – Hide from Our terror - the void. (David Cowles) Train rattles my ear, Sun reveals magic to us, A perfect moment. (Jack Cowles) Grits, butter, no cheese, explosion of Tabasco which cantaloupe cools. (David Cowles) You there, “Make snowballs!” They crumble. Age 6 and a Crooked arms dealer! (David Cowles) One caw of a crow Turns all of the fallen leaves A deeper yellow. (Richard Wright) Writing love poems now - Planting season so long gone – How ridiculous! (David Cowles) Drip, drip goes the water How I wish I could use it To wash the world away. (Basho – 17th century) Enough is enough – Except when it’s not; voila, ‘Rithmetic is born! (David Cowles) I am entropy, My touch unravels order, Agent of Kaos. (David Cowles) Good morning. Eyes up, Hearts full, Minds sharp! Compassion - On full blast. Let’s go! (after Lin-Manuel Miranda) Editor's note: a friend and I engage in a very short ‘Haiku-slam:' Hanging on corners - Dark streets, dive bars, and the Ritz - Having fun with friends. (David Cowles) Sleeping on the tracks - Flying first class selling dreams. Behold a poet! (John O’Brien) David Cowles is the founder and editor-in-chief of Aletheia Today Magazine. He lives with his family in Massachusetts where he studies and writes about philosophy, science, theology, and scripture. He can be reached at david@aletheiatoday.com. Share Return to Table of Contents, Beach Issue Return to Table of Contents, June Issue Your content has been submitted Add to our haiku in the comment box below.