Psalm 19 presents some interesting challenges to those who make the case for natural law or those who insist on a literalistic interpretation of the Biblical text. By literalistic we here refer to an interpretation of phenomena in a Baconian sense – one that must accord with scientific laws and empirical observations.
The sun is spoken of as riding a circuit, end to end across
the sky. This has often been explained in phenomenological terms in that it's
not meant to be a scientific text or observation, but descriptive language
based on the experience of the observer. It describes a phenomenon as witnessed,
not in terms of the actual mechanics of the event. We know the sun does not
rise but only appears to do so as the Earth turns on its axis.
And yet, the Psalm seems (by some readings) to tie in this
observation of the sun with an argument for natural law and it provides a
testimonial to the glory of God, His design, and His providential ordering – a
law as it were, describing and found within creation itself.
Secular critics and theological liberals use such passages to
discredit the Bible. This is an example of primitive description, an Iron Age
account that has a poetic value but cannot be taken seriously or literally. Or
they might argue the Hebrews appropriated such notions from Mesopotamia or the
Greeks who have deities such as Apollo who 'ride the sky', towing the sun by
chariot or some such.
The literalistic camp has at times used such passages
erroneously and insisted on wooden readings – sometimes to their great embarrassment.
Such a reading imposed on this passage would actually suggest a deficiency in
terms of natural law – the point being appealed to in fact failing to testify
to truth, but instead to mere phenomena, hardly a firm basis for a natural law.
Some will appeal to phenomenological argument when it comes
to this passage and yet without any consistency will insist on a literalistic
reading elsewhere. And again, to read Psalm 19 as phenomenological doesn't
resolve the second half of the passage which seemingly connects nature to the
revelation of God and His law.
So what is in fact the answer to this conundrum?
All of our observations are to some extent phenomenological
as we cannot hope to understand the spiritual mechanisms that underlie reality
– forces, means, and even entities which transcend space and time, which we
require for even the most simple degree of true predication. Even our concepts
and hypothetical ideas are limited by our ability to think in these terms and
as such our postulations are analogical at best – and reductionist or even
misperceiving at worst.
But even a phenomenological experience of nature (fallen
nature we might add) is sufficient to testify to providential rule and telos (a
design with purpose – even if that purpose along with the means and mechanisms
somewhat elude us). Creation speaks to us as it were, pointing us at all times
to transcendent realities and our own finitude. It is a truth that convicts and
condemns but it offers no promise of life. It grants a basic and implied
coherence that affords a degree of plausibility (in fact a necessity) when it
comes to believing that God is and that He speaks to us. It testifies to a
reality that is transcendent but lost to us, beyond the veil.
Our ability to comprehend the word of nature is severely
limited, but the truths are nevertheless there – which are sufficient to hold
us accountable. This is the point of Paul's argument in Romans 1 which must be
used to interpret this Psalm, and not the other way around – this is, if we
intend to read the Bible as Christians and not fall into patterns of Judaizing.
Paul's opening discourse in 1 Corinthians must also inform how we understand
the Psalm. His deconstruction of human philosophy must be taken into account by
those who would positively construct some kind of natural theology on the basis
of natural law or revelation.
Creation testifies to the existence of God – but not
necessarily to historical conceptions of a natural law which will always be
incomplete, flawed, and carry the potential danger of idolatry. Some might
argue it testifies to a God that can then utilise special revelation or we
might argue that the God testified to by nature – is a revelatory God. And yet
this revelation (whether natural or special) must be ultimately unlocked by
Spirit-wrought faith and discernment. Since Eden, it is anything but natural in
terms of how it can be accessed. The Holy Spirit is required to grant us a
spiritual epistemology – comparing spiritual with spiritual as Paul says.
Revelation unlocks the truths of creation to a point, but
once again this is not in order for us to infer and formulate a grand unified
theory or comprehensive worldview. It's not a means to activate 'right reason'.
Rather, such revelation leads to a doxological response – the inferior praising
the superior, indeed the Almighty.
Mystery is a key component to the nature of revelation. The
Scriptures speak of them and of course the term revelation itself implies the
revealing of something that was hitherto unknown or hidden. God's revelation
first and foremost is Christ. Subsequent to this we can say that revelation
comes in the form of doctrine and prophecy but it's also manifest in
redemptive-history itself – all of which testify to and point to Christ. He is
the Revelation, the Apocalypse – a point some theological schools do not seem
to grasp. God in his mercy has given us holy writings – written oracles which
convey cosmological and eschatological realities and yet even these remain mysterious,
requiring the aid of the Spirit in order for them to be apprehended. We are
reminded of what Christ taught with reference to the parables, they are Kingdom
mysteries not to be taken at face value but require the Spirit's mediation. The
epistles are certainly not as veiled, but they still require basic concepts and
intuitions the natural man does not possess. Consequently our knowledge is
analogical and doxological – we are not to seek some kind of unified theory or
elucidation in our approaches to theology, nor can we hope to move from
apprehension to comprehension. This would be to fall back on the categories and
intuitions of fallen man – to compare spiritual by means of the natural. The historical
attempts to do this, to engage in this kind of theological method, have (it can
be argued) simply multiplied epistemological dilemmas and have led the Church
astray – opening doors to wayward paths, spurring false ideological quests, and
generating dubious and dangerous imperatives. This is true not only of the
Thomistic-Scholastic tradition but even among those who have pursued a 'Right
Reason' or Faith-Seeking-Understanding model in the tradition of Augustine,
Anselm, and more modern worldview-oriented thinkers within the Reformed and
Evangelical spectrum.
This basic coherence and implied telos provide the beginnings
of an epistemic foundation upon which faith can be built and rest upon. As such,
we can hear the voice of God and rightly praise Him. It is fideistic by some
definitions, but easily avoids pure the pure fideism it is often accused of.
While some decry the lack of a positive epistemological foundation or the
scepticism inherent in the view, they miss the fact that it is the scepticism
that lays the philosophic and epistemic groundwork, leaving man with two alternatives
in the end – meaningless chance coupled with incoherent nihilism, or faith and
revelation. It is not a blind faith, but a faith rooted in brokenness, in
wide-open bloodshot and desperate eyes, that see no hope and no escape apart
from transcendent or supernatural revelation.
The psalm is humbling to say the least. It is profound, and
yet reminds us of our finitude, dependence, and the loving condescension of God
in speaking to us both through creation and revelation.
A final point that is worth considering – Creation is
experienced in phenomenological terms which can in fact be 'real' in terms of
what we today would call space-time manifestation. And yet the Scriptures seem
to hint that such phenomena and/or objects that can be measured or tested by
means of empirical interaction and verification may in fact still contain
another aspect of existence. If so, then our outward experiences interact (at
least at times) with substances that are contingent or dependent on another
subsistent level of reality that is not empirically discernible, let alone able
to be related to things around it. This seriously hampers the ability to
predicate in terms of not just ontology, but teleology, and certainly cosmology
and indeed limits the whole epistemological enterprise. But the point here is
not to focus on the traditional proofs for the existence of God. They are true
enough but have little meaning, import, or potency apart from those who have
already been granted eyes to see. But there is another dimension to this
discussion which demands consideration.
For example, angelic entities or elohim are also referred to
as stars. Unbelievers will simply dismiss this as primitive superstition
ascribing metaphysical properties and personality to things that we now know to
be gaseous heat-emitting orbs in the void of outer space. Often the
conservative answer is to simply argue this Biblical language is metaphorical
and yet it doesn't quite do justice to the text. Are the gaseous orbs metaphors
or symbols for something beyond, or are the gaseous objects somehow related to
that which is beyond? In other words they are gaseous orbs and yet at the same
time they are in fact spiritual entities. Now this opens up many possibilities
and may explain in part why something like astrology is problematic – an error
and idolatry to be sure, but not merely a baseless superstition as some would
have it.
The Scriptures are full of suggestions of such parallelisms –
the world as we know it being a kind of reflection or mirror of what lies
beyond and yet no exact equations can be made. Indeed one is left to wonder if
the Fall erected a barrier between this larger reality of a kind of
physical-spiritual existence that was present in Eden and yet eliminated. At
this point I'm not just speaking of symbolic parallels between the sea and the
abyss, the firmament and the heavens, or the fiery subterranean geology of the
Earth and the realms of Hell, nor am I making more of the patent creaturely
analogies of the spirit realm also present found among the creatures of the
deep, the birds of the air, or the biological aspects of decay found in the
soil – all of which seem to point to underlying or parallel angelic realities.
This is also exhibited in what we see in angelic-throne visions and some of the
parables. We can't make too much of these parallels and yet they do seem to
exist.
We do well to consider that while the sea and firmament, as
well as space and the various references to cosmological architecture may be
referenced metaphorically, at the same time heaven is not 'out there', but a
case can be made for it being coextensive with the world we know – but meta- or
beyond what we experience. I use 'meta' deliberately as there are some worthy (and
indeed necessary) reflections called for in the light of contemporary
experiments in the realm of virtual reality and the like. But in truth we
cannot be sure how any of this might work.
A problem arises with the notion that our empirical
interactions with space-time substances may reveal a degree of truth that at
the same time do not reveal the true subsistence or the hypostatic nature of
that object. It may point to something beyond for those with eyes to see but
ultimately the space-time manifestation is so different (and perhaps
obfuscating) that further predication is not possible. Once again, revelation
is required. We are enshrouded by a labyrinthine veil of mystery. Certain
truths shine through to be sure but without revelation we are lost and the
situation is hopeless.
But this leaves us with a kind of double-truth or paradox. On
the one hand that sky-object is in fact a gaseous celestial orb but at the same
time (in a way that we cannot grasp) it is an elohim – a celestial entity,
something angelic, even a 'god'. Does the fact that in terms of space and time
it manifests as something 'chemical' formed by gravitational force contradict
with this underlying reality?
The same may be said with regard to cosmology which speaks of
the waters above the firmament, the pillars of the Earth, a bottomless pit, or
the fact that Sheol is placed within the Earth itself. The Christian Baconian
dances between sometimes rather dubious exegetical interpretations, appeals to metaphor,
and quasi-scientific and yet untenable vapor canopy hypotheses and at times
comical attempts to provide a physics-rooted explanation to conundrums like the
bottomless pit. And yet we must ask – could one dig to Sheol? When as they
believe the bottomless pit is manifest during the millennium, might one
(hypothetically) dig to access it or travel to it in space and time? Or maybe
these are realities that transcend space-time empirical interaction. They are
real but not material in the sense we commonly mean it and thus not accessible
by normal means. Maybe the way to get to distant planets is not by means of a
space ship reliant on propellant. Occultists have always thought so. This is
not to say they are correct and should be heeded but perhaps they are correct
in some capacity and yet they and their goals must still be rejected. Even
mainstream astrophysics recognizes the necessity of transcending traditional
physics at this point. But returning to the spiritual questions at hand, we
need not resort to flat-earth arguments, Baconian hermeneutics, nor Creationist
pseudo-science to accept these things as true and real. And I say this as one
who believes the opening of Genesis to be a literal account – but not to be
understood or parsed in the way so-called Creation science pursues it.
For some this nuanced and dynamic way of thinking would seem
strange indeed, mystic, bifurcated, even flirting with the insane. But if this re-cast
cosmological line of argument is true in any sense, it more or less dispenses
with the various Christian-Baconian projects that believe Christian truth is or
must be compatible with empirical and scientific norms. And yet this in no way
capitulates to the unbelief theological liberalism and its world-friendly,
quasi-materialist epistemological commitments. If anything it simply touches on
a supernatural way of looking at the world that more or less dominates human
history and at least touches on ancient intuition and thought. As Bible
believers we claim to reject the Enlightenment. But do we? Have we really
thought that through?
But then what are we left with? Once again we are left with dependence upon revelation without which we cannot hope to even apprehend the nature of the universe that we live in. Comprehension of the type many seek is effectively removed from consideration. At best our epistemology can only approach one half of the equation – if half is even the right way to understand it. Man can tinker with elements and develop mechanisms, tools, and gadgets, but in addition to failing to understand just what things mean (in an ultimate sense), man is often tinkering with and flirting with things beyond not only his knowledge but in other cases with things that are ultimately dangerous. By this I refer not just to things like nuclear science or chemistry but increasingly man is delving into realms that seem to touch-on (without fully accessing) the spiritual dimension – or at least open up man to further interaction and influence with that realm. And given the present equation of mind and brain, there are dangers present in failing to understand how these machines affect the mind and the mystery of how under their influence the mind interacts with sensory reception and experience, reason, and even the basic grasp or parameters of what we call reality. Indeed, the stage is being set for a return to the days of Noah. Of that, I have little doubt.
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