Alex Forrest

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Down the Slippery Slope

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Yesterday the news broke in Holland that a hospital, specifically the Groningen Academic Hospital had begun quietly euthanizing terminally ill babies. Euthanasia for adults who request it has been legal for some time, but now we see it being applied to those who are obviously unable to request it. The hospital has developed guidelines. From the article: “The Groningen Protocol, as the hospital’s guidelines have come to be known, would create a legal framework for permitting doctors to actively end the life of newborns deemed to be in similar pain from incurable disease or extreme deformities.”

Now euthanasia of babies according to this protocol should, the article tells us, only wind up applying to about ten cases a year. Until hospitals quietly start to re-interpret terms like “extreme deformity” and “incurable disease.” Is it too far a stretch to see such doctors defining, say, Down’s Syndrome as an incurable disease, or autism as an “extreme deformity?” Who makes the rules? Who is accountable? Who is to predict and say what is a healthy, good life for a baby, and which is not?

On November 20 I wrote about the dangers of stem cell research. I argued that the worldview that the presuppositions undergirding the push for embryonic stem cell research included a utilitarian view of human life that values human life, much like any other commodity, for its usefulness. The same mindset is at work in this Dutch hospital, and probably in many others. It is a view that human beings do not possess intrinsic dignity, but rather are to be valued for what they can do or contribute to the greater good. In an important essay, philosopher Peter Kreeft describes this view as functionalism. I won’t reproduce the essay here but recommend it to you for further reading. He argues,

“The Functionalism that is the basis of the “Quality of Life Ethic” is morally
reprehensible for at least three reasons. First, it is degrading, demeaning and destructive to human dignity; it treats persons like trained seals. Second, it is elitist; it discriminates against less perfect performers. Third, it takes advantage, it is power play, it is might over right rationalized.”

Why do we oppose the Quality of Life ethic? Because, biblically speaking, human beings are the pinnacle of God’s creation, bearing His very image, his imprinateur, in our beings (Genesis 1:27). We are not, as the naturalists claim, a meaningless blob, an amalgamation or particles, the chance result of impersonal forces acting over eons of time. We are not accidents, but formed by a very personal Creator (Psalm 139, Jeremiah 1:5, etc.), one to whom we will all answer one day.

Once we take a lower view of human life, the slope is slippery indeed. That’s why we must oppose the culture of death at every turn. We must oppose it not just politically (though we can), but spiritually. We do not simply diagnose the problem, we propose the alterantive: Human beings (YOU) matter to the Creator, possess inherent dignity as a bear-er of His image, and that each life (YOURS!) is endowed with purpose and meaning bestowed by God.

Bono on Beauty

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Merging two of my recent blog topics here: Art in the Church, and U2.

In Spin Magazine’s cover story on U2, Bono says, “The job of art is to chase away ugliness.” (By the way, you can read the full article here). It seems to me that such a view certainly comports with Scripture. God is a creative God and one who loves beauty – He didn’t have to make the sky turn glorious hues of orange and purple when the sun sets, for example. His creation was good. By contrast, sin brings ugliness – none worse than the ugliness inside the human heart. The goal of good art should be, as Bono says, to chase away ugliness, to remind show us beauty. There is a transcendent quality to art that does this, something that ought to remind us that True Beauty exists, and that ugliness will ultimately vanish in Christ’s kingdom.

Of course, many in the arts celebrate ugliness. Think of the compositions of John Cage, think of infamous art exhibits that drew publicity by shocking ugliness (urine, etc.). Such art attempts to subvert (or “deconstruct”) the norm, what most of us would consider beauty. They purportedly do so to “push the envelope,” which they would have us believe is a high calling of art. Yet these things are subversive and destructive.

True Beauty exists, and it ought to be the goal of art to celebrate it and draw us to it, to remind us of the beauty of our Creator. The Church should celebrate such art and this high calling.

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Update: A poll of 500 arts figures, released today, declared that the most influential work of modern art is Marchel Duchamp’s “Urinal.” And yes, it is basically a white porcelain urinal like you would find at your favorite rest stop. Don’t believe it – look at it here. This is what the cultural elites of our day think is good art. I guess we might agree that it is influential, and certainly says something about the culture that produced and celebrates it. Beauty, it appears, may be a lost art.

Encountering Religious Pluralism

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I have to prepare to lead discussion on Encountering Religious Pluralism, by Harold Netland this week in a seminar. So far so good – it is definitely worth reading.

The second chapter in particular was very good. Netland argues against the common claim that pluralism is the result of postmodernity, and in so doing presents a pretty good case for doing away with the whole paradigm that says postmodernity is completely antithetical to modernity. Instead, he argues that postmodern thinkers have much in common with the skepticism and empiricism of the Enlightenment, and bear a resemblance to the romantics of the nineteenth century. Interesting case.

Religious pluralism is the name given to the idea that all religions are expressions of truth in their own way, and there is not one privileged with the possession of exclusive truth. In other words, Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, etc. all have some truth and their adherents are welcomed by God. What I’ve given is a pretty good popular expression of pluralism. There are also very academically rigorous defenses of the position, the most notable being that of John Hick.

Anyway, this is one of THE issues for the Church to grapple with in coming years. It already is an issue, of course, but will only become bigger and bigger as the world shrinks and our society becomes increasingly multi-cultural.

“Garden State” and Existentialism

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Some films move beyond entertainment and open the door to some great thinking and conversation.

Garden State is that kind of movie. On the way home we had already begun talking about leading a film study of this movie in our community group at church.

I liked the movie on its own merits. The actors (especially Zach Braff and Natalie Portman) are outstanding – their characters have authenticity that a lot of movies lack. They just seem very real. You might know these people, they may live in your neighborhood.

The movie is also pretty funny at times. One disclaimer however: Those of you who are turned off by rough language may want to take a pass or wait for a TV-edited version. There is some profanity (it’s not as bad as many films, but definitely present), and there is some other unwholesome content (like drug use).

Ultimately, though, I think the movie is worth seeing. It might even be a rather profound treatment of the human condition.

Garden State is a film that is essentially an exposition of Existentialism.

Existential philosophy is rather recent (last 150 years or so) and is a response to and result of the cold emptiness of Naturalism (the belief that matter is all that exists, the universe is a closed box, etc.).

The film opens with a scene where Andrew Largeman, the protagonist played by Zach Braff, is on an airplane that is crashing. Everybody around him is panicking and crying and generally freaking out, but Andrew sits placidly staring straight forward. He is aware of what is going on around him, but does not seem to care. He calmly raises his hand to adjust the air circulation as the plane is going down. Of course he is dreaming, but the metaphor is clear. What’s happening doesn’t matter. He cannot do anything about the impending crash, but he can try to make himself comfortable until it happens.

Life is meaningless

The whole first half of the film shows the meaninglessness and emptiness of life for everyone in the movie. It is shallow and pointless. So really the movie begins with Nihilism. The Nihilist, you see, has followed Naturalism to its logical conclusion in realizing that without the transcendent there is no real meaning to existence. In other words, there is nothing deeper or bigger than the matter of the universe; there is no organizing principle (or Person) to endow the universe or any particular conglomeration of matter in it (like a human being) with any kind of meaning or value. (Neither is there any morality or anything of the sort). You don’t ultimately matter and what you do doesn’t really mean anything; you just are. And one day you won’t be.

Now this is pretty depressing stuff, and you can tell that Andrew Largeman is going through the motions of life but does not care anymore. He has the same blank stare throughout most of the early part of the film. Now I said this film was about Existentialism, not Nihilism, and here’s why.

Avoiding the Abyss

There is a fairly well known image in such philosophy of an infinite abyss – an image of the universe, of life, of whatever. Most people inherently know its there, ready to swallow them up. In fact, they are drowning in it. They know, deep inside, that life is ultimately devoid of purpose and hope, but they refuse to admit it.

They try to hide from that reality; they distract themselves with all kinds of things, they fill up their time with trivial pursuits and diversions in order to avoid ultimate questions and ultimate reality. Surely you can see how this characterizes so much of our culture.

In Garden State, we see some people distract themselves with drugs and alcohol, others use and prescribe medication to kill the pain, some distract themselves with vanity, some just seem to waste away. Largeman’s mother apparently commits suicide (not giving anything away here, he gets the news at the film’s beginning). His father pines away for a chance for everyone to just be happy.

Incidentally, in this inner dread and knowledge of the abyss we find a parallel in Reformed theology. John Calvin talked about the fact that every man has within himself knowledge of his Creator, having been made in his image. He calls this the “sensus divinitatus,” the sense of the divine. Yet because of sin and depravity, he seeks to suppress it and kill it because he hates God and wants to avoid owning up to Him.

So, this sense of inner dread and suppression of “known” reality exists in both Existential and Christian thinking, though obviously they point to completely opposite ultimate realities.

The Existential Hero – the Super Man

The existentialist is the man who decides to shake himself loose from this kind of meaningless half-life. According to James Sire, the goal of existentialism is “to transcend nihilism.” While of course this is, for the existentialist, impossible to accomplish in the “objective” world, it can happen in subjective experience. In other words, you can’t do anything about the world and the pointless nature of your life because ultimately it really doesn’t matter, but you can create your own meaning in your life.

For the existentialist, the courageous man is the man who stares straight into the abyss and defies it. He shakes his fist at it and screams against it. “I will create meaning in the midst of meaninglessness! I will dare to value and feel like this life matters even when it doesn’t!” Or something along those lines.

In the film, this comes across in a very, very clear way. While others continue meandering through a junkyard (or a quarry?) and turn away from the abyss, Largeman climbs atop something and stares down into it and screams.

The metaphor is, frankly, too over the top. It could stand to be more subtle here, but the filmmakers apparently want to make sure we get it. The message is crystal clear.

(It’s worth noting, in discussing this scene, that we learn that many want to cover the abyss with a big shopping mall? For our culture, that’s a very common way to hide and gloss over it – to cover it with vain and silly distractions like shopping or sports.)

Andrew Largeman has become the super man.

Having achieved this breakthrough, Largeman confronts his father, who just wants them to be happy. He challenges his dad to own up to the fact that they may not ever be happy. They may just be OK, and that’s OK.

He decides to stop taking the medication his father prescribes for him because he wants to feel again, even if it hurts sometimes. (He desires to lead the subjective life, the existentialist might say.) He wants to create meaning in his life.

At the end of the film, you see a montage of various characters alone in their meaningless existence. It is pathetic. Until Largeman steps out and decides to create meaning NOW, to take control of his life and make it into something.

And here, incidentally, is where the character’s name comes from: Large Man. He is the large man, the super man, the overcoming man who boldly confronts reality and waves his meager fist at it defiantly.

Existentialism and the Bible

The really interesting thing, for me, about Existentialism is that it is mostly right.

Without the hope of God in Christ, without the meaning, purpose, and transcendence that God brings us, the existentialist is exactly right. Life is devoid of meaning. There is a gnawing sense that something isn’t right, that there ought to be more. Instead of resigning ourselves to create our meaning, though, the biblical answer is to embrace the real and eternal life that our Creator has offered us in Christ (the realsuper man).

That, unfortunately, is what Andrew Largeman does not get. He does not have to make up his own value or story to give meaning to life; he can turn to find that value real and present in Jesus Christ, and live significantly by living in and by the story of Jesus.

Perhaps he missed it because nobody was there to tell him.

Monism vs. Dualism in Christian thought, and the implications of modern nueroscience

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I recently completed a 25 page paper for a philosophy seminar I took last semester. I’m glad to have it behind me. Essentially, the paper was a detailed analysis of two recent books that explore what emerging trends in neurosciences (brain science) have to say about theological understandings of what it means to be a human being.

Essentially, throughout much of the history of Christian thought, Christians have held to the idea that there is a very strict separation between “soul” and “body,” or “mind” and “brain.” Such a conception is labeled dualism (as opposed to monism).

Recent work in neuroscience, however, calls into question such a dichotomy. The prevailing opinion today (particularly in secular academic circles) is that a monistic understanding of human beings is more accurate. Such a view refutes the dichotomy I’ve just described, arguing there is really no such thing as an immaterial soul that can exist apart from the body.

Some of the evidence they point to will be familiar – the way a person’s body greatly impacts their “mind.” The example of Alzeimers Disease, Touret’s Syndrome, and anecdotal evidences from brain tumors and the like. The argument is that if brain chemistry or biological substances exercise such a powerful influence on aspects of personhood we generally consider to be the mind or soul (such as personality, emotions, spirituality), then it does not make sense to think that the two are separate.

Another name for “monism” is materialism or physicalism. As the names suggest, this is the belief that man is simply a physical being through and through, everything about us ultimately flows from the “stuff” of our bodies.

Many Christian scholars are jumping on board, and the two books I interacted with were compendiums of writers in fields ranging from the sciences, psychology and counseling, and theology trying to present a biblical case for such a view.

The biblical emphasis on embodied spirituality is high on their list of arguments. The great hope of Christianity is not that the soul flees the body to exist in a state of spiritual bliss (“Some glad morning when this life is o’er, I’ll fly away”). The great hope of the gospel is the hope of Resurrection. An embodied existence in a new earth, a “celestial city.”

Our bodies matter and we should treat them accordingly.

In short, there is clearly a very high level of connection between the mind and body. And the strict separation held to in traditional teaching really does have more to do with Plato than the Bible. So the current work is a necessary corrective to an overly-extreme view.

With that said, however, I think it is an overreaction to fully embrace monism. The writers too easily dismiss biblical and philosophical arguments that call into question their conclusions in their haste to make amends with science. They point to the way the Church was embarrasingly opposed to Copernicus and Galileo and seem to want to avoid such a fate here. (Of course, Intelligent Design theory is vindicating the Church’s obstinate opposition to Darwinism, proof that one need not always sell out a worldview at the first sign of scientific trouble).

A primary issue standing in the way of embracing the monistic position is what is called the “intermediate state,” the idea that at death our souls do continue to exist in some way apart from our bodies, if only temporarily awaiting final resurrection when we will once again be embodied. It is very difficult to explain away passages in both the OT and NT that point to this. For example, when Jesus told the thief “today” you’ll be with me in paradise, he presumably had in mind something apart from the body.

So I ultimately find the arguments for monism unconvincing.

On the other hand, the Church really has been overly extreme. So I would disagree with the extreme position articulated with some who would say I am basically a ghost piloting a machine. No, I am an embodied human being.

So I favor a position articulated by philosopher John W Cooper, which he calls “functional holism” or “holistic dualism.” Such a view holds that mind and body are intrinsically linked and interdependent but that, at death, the soul can and does separate from the body. Such a state is not ideal and not the way things are supposed to be – it is the result of sin.

The hope is of resurrection when we will once again be embodied people for eternity in the eternal city.

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