I have not heard whether or not we are actually meeting face-to-face today, so I will briefly review some questions/objections that I have encountered as I have read the first 94 pages of this tome.
Edwards seem to think of the will as a sort of physical entity within a person that experiences causes (motives) that move it to act. He frequently uses illustrations that smack of the physics of inertia and momentum. He exemplifies a series of causations as a chain of links, such that moving the first link effectively moves the last link. The idea that each man, when confronted by a constellation of events, ALWAYS chooses the action that does him the most good makes him the slave of those events. It makes him a self-centered biological organism.
It seems to me that a person acting in the flesh will do this most of the time, BUT maybe not all of the time. Though Edwards assumes that heroic acts of parents to sacrifice for their children to a be in their procreative good or of soldiers to sacrifice for their comrades to be in their communal good, I find these to be questionable assumptions to dismiss the idea that human beings can choose to place the good of others above their own good.
Man has been created in the image of God, and so he has the ability to be creative. He cannot create physical matter as God did, but he can create.
Man has a spirit that is greater than the spirit of animals, so though brute beasts MUST act according to the flesh man can rise above it. An animal must fight and kill to guard territory, but man can rise above this animal desire. An animal will procreate at any opportunity, but man can live in mongamy. An animal will tear at the flesh of a fallen animal as soon as it is safe, but man can wait at a table until all plates have been served. Rather than experiencing a chain of causes, wherein the first link is inexorably connected to the last, man may be able to choose a thought, an attitude, or an act at any point in the sequence. We were created to rule the universe, as stewards of God, not to be ruled by it.
If I understand Scripture correcting the will of man is not separate from the soul of man, but an expression of the man. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are three in one and all three are expressions of God working in concert. The Son did NOT work individually from God. The Holy Spirit does NOT work individually from God. Neither does the will work individually from the soul of the human being. The will is an expression of the human being. Writing that the will causes its willing as an absurdity assumes that the will is analagous to a physical object like a hammer. Of course I agree that a hammer cannot instigate hammering. But the will of a man that sees a physical object like a hammer may, because of many motives, may choose to hammer with it.
This same line of argument extends to the soul of man. The soul, created to manage the universe, is not driven by it and may express creativity in response to it. I grant that most of the time our choices seem follow a pattern of creating the most agreeable consequences for our existence in this world. I can't yet grant that this is true for all situations, so that one can conclude that the motives present in our circumstances DRIVE those choices. Influences do NOT decide the matter! Influences ONLY influence our choice.
What does this mean to me as a teacher? I'll weigh in with my opinion. When I can help a student understand right choices, then I will instruct and counsel as possible. When a student does not believe my counsel pre-act, then the consequences of the action provide opportunities for post-act discussion.
The nature of my pre-act instruction and counsel will affect my ability to provide post-act instruction and counsel. Students may be more ready to hear my counsel, when they are suffering negative consequences.
Students may be too immature to face certain choices. Wise mentoring chooses when the time is right for students to make choices. When I feel that the student or community would suffer consequences (that students cannot yet understand) that are too disastrous to accept, then I may refuse the student the opportunity to choose.
I look forward to the time when we can meet face-to-face to share our thoughts on these ideas. Until that time, I will continue reading and writing in the margins.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Temples, Sacred Images, and the Invisible Power of Ideas
I hope that you brothers are well. I’m at Panera Bread in Greenville, South Carolina – one of the few places with wireless internet access. I’ll try to find a few more wireless spots in Alabama [maybe at the Chat-n-Chew in Phil Campbell].
I mentioned in the last post that both Eve and Achan illustrate Edwards’s view that “what makes the will choose is something approved by the understanding and consequently appearing to the soul as good” [p. 88]. Or put another way [examining a different facet of the same diamond]: “Every act of the will is some way connected with the understanding, and is as the greatest apparent good is . . . namely, that the soul always wills and chooses that which . . . appears most agreeable” [p.86]. Or put in a different way: “The will necessarily follows this light or view of the understanding not only in some of its acts, but in every act of choosing and refusing. So that the will does not determine itself in any one of its own acts; but all its acts, every act of choice or refusal, depends on, and is necessarily connected with, some antecedent cause . . .” [p. 90].
Cause: Eve sees [understands or perceives] that the fruit is good [the apparent greatest good].
Effect: Eve eats the fruit [an act of the will]
Edwards uses temples and sacred images to illustrate that “the will itself, how absolute and incontrollable soever it may be thought, never fails in its obedience to the dictates of the understanding” [p. 87]:
“Temples have their sacred images; and we see what influence they have always had over a great part of mankind; but in truth the ideas and images in men’s minds are the invisible powers that constantly govern them; and to these they all pay universally a ready submission” [p. 87].
So the question is:
How does the knowledge of ourselves, that the soul always wills and chooses that which appears most agreeable to the mind, inform our pedagogy as Christian teachers?
I mentioned in the last post that both Eve and Achan illustrate Edwards’s view that “what makes the will choose is something approved by the understanding and consequently appearing to the soul as good” [p. 88]. Or put another way [examining a different facet of the same diamond]: “Every act of the will is some way connected with the understanding, and is as the greatest apparent good is . . . namely, that the soul always wills and chooses that which . . . appears most agreeable” [p.86]. Or put in a different way: “The will necessarily follows this light or view of the understanding not only in some of its acts, but in every act of choosing and refusing. So that the will does not determine itself in any one of its own acts; but all its acts, every act of choice or refusal, depends on, and is necessarily connected with, some antecedent cause . . .” [p. 90].
Cause: Eve sees [understands or perceives] that the fruit is good [the apparent greatest good].
Effect: Eve eats the fruit [an act of the will]
Edwards uses temples and sacred images to illustrate that “the will itself, how absolute and incontrollable soever it may be thought, never fails in its obedience to the dictates of the understanding” [p. 87]:
“Temples have their sacred images; and we see what influence they have always had over a great part of mankind; but in truth the ideas and images in men’s minds are the invisible powers that constantly govern them; and to these they all pay universally a ready submission” [p. 87].
So the question is:
How does the knowledge of ourselves, that the soul always wills and chooses that which appears most agreeable to the mind, inform our pedagogy as Christian teachers?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Preponderating Inducement, Eve, and Achan
The will cannot indifferently choose something over something else at the same time it is indifferent [p. 64]. Rather there must be as Edwards would put it a preponderating inducement or a prevailing influence on the will.
In other words, what one considers the greater good causes one to act:
"So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, annd that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate." Genesis 3.6 ESV
"When I saw among the spoil a beautiful cloak from Shinar, and 200 shekels of silver, and a bar of gold weighing 50 shekels, then I coveted them and took them." Joshua 7.21 ESV
In other words, what one considers the greater good causes one to act:
"So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, annd that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate." Genesis 3.6 ESV
"When I saw among the spoil a beautiful cloak from Shinar, and 200 shekels of silver, and a bar of gold weighing 50 shekels, then I coveted them and took them." Joshua 7.21 ESV
Monday, June 18, 2007
Reepicheep's Notes on Part I, Section III
Part I, Section III: Concerning the Meaning of the Terms—Necessity, Impossibility, Inability, and Contingence
In this section, Edwards again makes a distinction between words used in common speech (he uses the term ‘vulgar’ for these) and the same words used in philosophical debates about the Will (he cites ‘metaphysicians, divines, philosophers and theologians’). Instead of bemoaning scholarship, he directs his efforts here to make philosophical usages clear since his essay must address them.
I understand his use of “necessity” best when it is held up as an opposite to “impossible.” The word “impossible” implies an understanding of “possible.” In that sense, “possibility” is the referent for “impossibility.” But “necessity” is where something must occur—it is more than possible; it “must” exist or come to pass.
This is not how we use the word in ordinary conversation—as Edwards warns us. I might say, “It is necessary for you to walk through the bedroom in order to access the washroom in our apartment.” You might reply, “OK, unless I climbed through the washroom window instead.” The sense in which I had used “necessity” assumed polite behavior. This usage is an example of the word in ordinary, “vulgar” use.
“Philosophical Necessity,” on the other hand might sound like this: “Necessity demands that you first leave the living room in order to make an arrival in the washroom.” Or, “Given the state of nature, it is necessary to exist in only one room at a time.” There is a “must” between the subject and the condition of action. A quarrel with this sort of “Philosophical Necessity” would force an allowance of radically absurd “impossibilities” (e.g. it would have to be allowed that one can both be and not be the same thing, etc). The law of noncontradiction, basic to all western thought, undergirds this understanding of Philosophical Necessity.
If I have properly interpreted his meaning, the following quotations from this section unfold neatly:
“When the subject and predicate of the proposition, which affirms the existence of any thing, either substance, quality, act, or circumstance, have a full and certain connexion, then the existence or being of that thing is said to be necessary, in a metaphysical sense. And in this sense I use the word necessity in the following discourse, when I endeavour to prove that necessity is not inconsistent with liberty.” (p. 19, ¶3) For instance, if we consider the statement “God is holy,” it is first necessary in the philosophical sense which Edwards will use the word to agree that the understanding, “God exists” is the metaphysical basis for, “God is holy.” Being itself precedes a property of that being’s nature.
“. . . the only way that any thing that is to come to pass hereafter, is or can be necessary, is by a connexion with something that is necessary in its own nature, or with something that already is, or has been; so that the one being supposed, the other certainly follows. And this, also, is the only way that all things past, excepting those which were from eternity, could be necessary before they came to pass, or could come to pass necessarily; and therefore the only way in which any effect or event, or any thing whatsoever that ever has had or will have a beginning, has come into being necessarily, or will hereafter necessarily exist. And therefore this is the necessity which especially belongs to controversies about the acts of the will.” (p. 21, ¶2) A marriage vow promises faithfulness, “in sickness and in health,” but this promise of future faithfulness is predicated on the character of the person making the promise. The future fulfillment of that vow depends on (1) the fixed definition of faithfulness and (2) the quality of the person who has sworn their loyal love. In this sense we might say, “If you are faithful, you will keep your marriage vows.” Philosophical Necessity then hangs upon the nature of “faithfulness.” It is precisely because no man or woman is necessarily faithful by nature that wedding vows are made before God and fellow men. A husband and wife must seek God to teach them steadfast love—precisely because it is not found in human nature but in Him alone! Of God we can say, “He causes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust.” This is a pan-historical statement: it has been so from the beginning and it will be until the end. The statement necessarily depends on the nature of God Himself. Because God is all-aware and all-powerful in His nature (i.e. these qualities are what render Him to be “God” over and against a “god”), it necessarily follows that He, “causes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust.”
~Reepicheep~
In this section, Edwards again makes a distinction between words used in common speech (he uses the term ‘vulgar’ for these) and the same words used in philosophical debates about the Will (he cites ‘metaphysicians, divines, philosophers and theologians’). Instead of bemoaning scholarship, he directs his efforts here to make philosophical usages clear since his essay must address them.
I understand his use of “necessity” best when it is held up as an opposite to “impossible.” The word “impossible” implies an understanding of “possible.” In that sense, “possibility” is the referent for “impossibility.” But “necessity” is where something must occur—it is more than possible; it “must” exist or come to pass.
This is not how we use the word in ordinary conversation—as Edwards warns us. I might say, “It is necessary for you to walk through the bedroom in order to access the washroom in our apartment.” You might reply, “OK, unless I climbed through the washroom window instead.” The sense in which I had used “necessity” assumed polite behavior. This usage is an example of the word in ordinary, “vulgar” use.
“Philosophical Necessity,” on the other hand might sound like this: “Necessity demands that you first leave the living room in order to make an arrival in the washroom.” Or, “Given the state of nature, it is necessary to exist in only one room at a time.” There is a “must” between the subject and the condition of action. A quarrel with this sort of “Philosophical Necessity” would force an allowance of radically absurd “impossibilities” (e.g. it would have to be allowed that one can both be and not be the same thing, etc). The law of noncontradiction, basic to all western thought, undergirds this understanding of Philosophical Necessity.
If I have properly interpreted his meaning, the following quotations from this section unfold neatly:
“When the subject and predicate of the proposition, which affirms the existence of any thing, either substance, quality, act, or circumstance, have a full and certain connexion, then the existence or being of that thing is said to be necessary, in a metaphysical sense. And in this sense I use the word necessity in the following discourse, when I endeavour to prove that necessity is not inconsistent with liberty.” (p. 19, ¶3) For instance, if we consider the statement “God is holy,” it is first necessary in the philosophical sense which Edwards will use the word to agree that the understanding, “God exists” is the metaphysical basis for, “God is holy.” Being itself precedes a property of that being’s nature.
“. . . the only way that any thing that is to come to pass hereafter, is or can be necessary, is by a connexion with something that is necessary in its own nature, or with something that already is, or has been; so that the one being supposed, the other certainly follows. And this, also, is the only way that all things past, excepting those which were from eternity, could be necessary before they came to pass, or could come to pass necessarily; and therefore the only way in which any effect or event, or any thing whatsoever that ever has had or will have a beginning, has come into being necessarily, or will hereafter necessarily exist. And therefore this is the necessity which especially belongs to controversies about the acts of the will.” (p. 21, ¶2) A marriage vow promises faithfulness, “in sickness and in health,” but this promise of future faithfulness is predicated on the character of the person making the promise. The future fulfillment of that vow depends on (1) the fixed definition of faithfulness and (2) the quality of the person who has sworn their loyal love. In this sense we might say, “If you are faithful, you will keep your marriage vows.” Philosophical Necessity then hangs upon the nature of “faithfulness.” It is precisely because no man or woman is necessarily faithful by nature that wedding vows are made before God and fellow men. A husband and wife must seek God to teach them steadfast love—precisely because it is not found in human nature but in Him alone! Of God we can say, “He causes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust.” This is a pan-historical statement: it has been so from the beginning and it will be until the end. The statement necessarily depends on the nature of God Himself. Because God is all-aware and all-powerful in His nature (i.e. these qualities are what render Him to be “God” over and against a “god”), it necessarily follows that He, “causes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust.”
~Reepicheep~
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Reepicheep's Notes on Part I, Section II
Part I, Section II: Concerning the Determination of the Will
In this section Edwards has spun a thick web of thoughts for his reader. Most meagerly educated persons—such as me—are likely to become lost by the abstraction of his discourse. I am left wanting at least three kinds of aid: first, identification and definition of particular terms he requires the reader to understand; second, a paragraph-by-paragraph outline of his argument to highlight his complex exposition; and finally an example that models the application of his rigorous distinctions and guiding principles.
Terms Important to this Section
Determine: to direct and commit towards something; to choose a particular
Determiner: used synonymously with “motive” (see MOTIVE below)
Will: that faculty of the human soul which chooses; this is not used by Edwards as a wildly autonomous faculty of the mind, rather, it is hinged to the choice itself—much like the sun and sunlight are inextricable
Object: the action committed to by a determined will; an objective; a candy bar is not a viable object as Edwards uses the term, rather, to eat the candy bar is an object of the determined will
Motive: the sum of what is within the sight of the choosing faculty which leads the mind to an act of choice; a motivation
Understanding: the perceiving faculty of the mind; distinct from the Will or the Appetites (including habit and instinct)
Excite: to energize with potential; a pre-action (imagined?) state of delight within the Will
Nature: the sum of all intrinsic qualities possessed by something
Circumstance: an extrinsic condition possessed by something
Good: in this context, whatever motive the mind acts upon is deemed “good” by the mind; the mind does not choose something that it does not believe is, at that moment, fully “good”; this is opposed to the GOOD sought after in the writings of Plato, etc.
Degree: a limiting aspect of any person’s ability to perceive
Manner: the limitations of perspective arising out of the incomplete relationship any viewer has with the thing viewed
Mind: this seems to be Edward’s most inclusive term, containing at least the understanding and the will; it is that within a person which reasons
State: a potentially nonpermanent quality of a thing; ice is a state of water—not its nature
Probable: a perceived likeliness; intuitive in his usage—not argued for or proven
Appetites: habits of taste developed over time—generally used in a pejorative manner; blind animal passions; the opposite of reason
Reason: a disposition of mind which seeks to understand the nature of a thing and its relationship to other things; that which classifies (e.g. language) and inquires about reality and the justification of knowledge claims; as opposed to the appetites
Lively: the state of something being excited, as he uses the term “excite”
Paragraph-by-Paragraph Brief
¶1……To “determine the will” is to choose a particular act as an object (or objective) over another (or others).
¶2……For a thing to be determined there must be “a determiner.” Either the will itself determines its own choice, or it is determined by something outside of itself.
¶3……The “determiner of the will” is a motive that the mind perceives to be strongest.
¶4……A motive is the whole of that which leads the mind to an act of volition. The “strongest motive” references the chief and final summation of the various parts of any motive which is acted upon.
¶5……A motive, in this sense, must be within the perception of the understanding.
¶6……Before a will commits to an act of choice, there are both stronger and weaker motives (or motivations) which excite the will; however, the will is always determined by the strongest motive.
¶7……Things viewed by the mind have their own nature and circumstances. The viewing mind has its own nature and circumstances. The view itself is limited by its own degree and manner. Appearances define reality for the mind. The strongest motive—upon which the mind invariably acts—is always deemed by that mind to be “good.”
¶8……“Good,” as used here, here simply means “pleasing” or “agreeable to.”
¶9……To choose what is more agreeable is to reject what is less agreeable. In the same sense, to choose what is “good” means to reject what is “evil.” Every consonance of the soul necessitates a rejection of some dissonance (what Locke calls “uneasiness”).
¶10…..The willing act involves direct or immediate perceptions of what action is good—not so much on remote objects. A man with liquor before him either wills to drink or to let the drink alone.
¶11…..A less direct object—instant pleasure over and against delayed hankering—is not directly presented to the will as an object of choice, and as such these are not what Edwards calls, “direct objects of volition.” The will cannot guarantee immediate pleasure or future misery; it can only choose to pick up or leave the drink.
¶12…..Based upon the distinctions above (¶10–11), Edwards says that, “the will always is as the greatest apparent good” rather than saying that, “the will is determined by the greatest apparent good.” Voluntary action is not determined by some separate abstraction called “choice”; rather simply that which appears in or about the mind’s view most agreeable.
¶13…..The apparent nature and circumstances of an object make it agreeable or disagreeable to the mind.
¶14…..Beauty or deformity can appear within the nature of an object rendering the mind disposed or indisposed to it.
¶15…..Attendant pleasure or trouble relative to the object may be considered part of the circumstances tightly bound to the object.
¶16…..All things being equal between two objects, a temporally nearer object will be viewed as possessing a more pleasing state than the further one.
¶17…..The manner of view—the dynamic relationship between an object and the mind—make that object agreeable or disagreeable to the mind.
¶18…..An object which appears to possess properties of pleasure more probable than another will appear more agreeable to the mind.
¶19…..We are most attached to (or influenced by) those things of which we have had sense experience. Positive experience gives an idea of something “liveliness.” Ideas apart from prior experience can at times possess a “lively quality.” All of the aforementioned contingencies (included in ¶13–18) affect the degree of “liveliness” attending such ideas.
¶20…..The temperament of the person affects his perception of an object because his views will be attached either to his appetites or to reason.
¶21…..The mind may cause the appearances of an object to vary between “beautiful” and “deformed”—making the object’s effect upon the mind more or less “lively.”
¶22…..Choice is always directed towards the greatest apparent good in a given moment.
¶23…..In some sense then, “the will always follows the last dictate of the understanding”—provided that the term “understanding” is taken to include both perception and reason (or judgment). But where Reason is speciously separated from Intuition or Habituation, then “understanding” is a divided thing and cannot be said to always rule the will.
¶24…..The ideas contained in this entire section are to be clarified in Edwards’ discourse on human liberty. His summation is: “the will is always determined by the strongest motive or by that view of the mind which has the greatest degree of previous tendency to excite volition.”
For Instance
I determined to read this section of our text and to journal my thoughts about it tonight instead of going to bed early or reading another book (¶1). Did my will act on its own or was there an external motivation? (¶2) There was a motive—what we commonly call “a reason”—behind this act (¶3). How can it be said that there was any single, driving motive that led me to choose? Afterall, my reasons were many: I thought that a day spent running errands should be balanced by an evening of rigorous contemplation; I was eager to catch up to where my colleagues were at in their readings; I was dissatisfied with my initial confusion after having first read the section several days ago; I was eager to post another outrageously long blog . . . and I suppose if I was patient enough, I could go on for a long time peeling apart the layers of my motivation. This is the point! All of these (and those unexamined) added together to weigh most heavily towards my determination to act. Altogether, Edwards would say, these lead to the formation of a strongest motive (¶4). I cannot imagine weightlessness as an alternative to my choice to read and write this evening because that is a state completely foreign to my understanding (¶5). While there were many exciting motives for the choice I made, the strongest motive ultimately engaged my will (¶6). I must have deemed it “good.” Why? The object of choice—reading and writing itself—had a particular nature and circumstantial quality. I, the person whose mind chose to read and write, have a particular nature and set of circumstances. The relation between my viewing and the object’s properties channels particular aspects of its nature more forcefully than others; in other words, there are other possible relations (e.g. if I were to revisit the possibility of reading and writing tomorrow morning, etc.) (¶7). By saying that reading and writing are “good,” I mean simply that the prospect pleased me more than some other alternative (¶8). The alternatives were esteemed “bad” by my choosing against them. I would have been “uneasy” without having chosen to read and write (¶9). My determination essentially came down to the motion of picking up the book and laptop rather than leaving them on my reading stand (¶10). I did not directly choose the virtue of discipline as more delightful than the vice of procrastination. Those are more remote objects of the will (¶11). At the commencement of my reading and writing, I must simply say that it pleased me—it was “good”—and I always do what appears “good” in that sense (¶12). This is not to say that reading and writing were necessarily good in and of themselves, rather that they appeared good to me at the point of volition (¶13). There was a kind of seemliness—a beauty of action—that presented itself to my mind as I considered what I would do. Likewise, there was a kind of inappropriateness—a deformity of action—in other options (¶14). Although the rigor involved in careful reading is not necessarily part of its nature (for a more intelligent person there might not be any rigor), it does attend my view of the choice so closely that it can be said to be part of the choice (¶15). What pleasure may be found in reading Freedom of the Will is much more accessible than that to be had in reading Calvin’s Institutes of Christian Religion because I do not have a copy of the Institutes in hand. The nearer of two pleasing objects is always deemed the most pleasing (¶16). Given my present circumstances—that the Edwards text is subject of much focus by my colleagues and given that my Dean procured the text for my study as an act of generosity, my perspective on the text affects a much greater degree of delight to my mind than if I were reading it alone and had purchased it against the better sense of my prudent, frugal wife (¶17). It is also more probable, in my estimation, that I will find deeper satisfaction in engaging with this book than in reading Kurt Vonnegut’s Welcome to the Monkey House (¶18). The idea of reading the Edwards is influenced by my recent, positive experience. Because of this positive experience, the idea of engaging again in further reading has a “lively quality” within my mind (¶19). My temperament, sometimes melancholy other times sanguine, is often given to the semi-obsessive pursuit of following Edwards’ line of thought (¶20). When I am inclined towards melancholy, the prospect of reading and writing takes on a more “beautiful” quality than when I am feeling sanguine (¶21). All of this adds up to making a choice: and I have chosen—as I will always do, according to Edwards—the greatest apparent good at the moment of choice (¶22). Does my Will then follow the last dictate of my Understanding? It seems that the answer depends on how we define “Understanding.” There are unexamined factors—other than reason alone—that greatly affect the mind. The whole of perception and reason combined may be said to, “rule the Will.” (¶23) Finally, my choice to read and write was governed by my motivation towards it based on previous, positive experiences which enlivened my view beyond the choice to not read and write (¶24).
If I have followed him correctly, Edwards has devised an architectural theory of the human soul (what he broadly sometimes refers to as the “mind”) in three interrelating parts: the understanding, the will and the appetites. These appear to be based on Platonic distinctions. The understanding perceives and reasons. The will chooses and therein engages the body. The appetites somehow engage unexamined mental processes that include intuition, the “subconscious,” habit, and instinct. His summation of this section is, “. . . the will is always determined by the strongest motive, or by that view of the mind which has the greatest degree of previous tendency to excite volition.” (p.15, ¶2)
In the end, Edwards admits that this has been a rather confusing section and he anticipates for the reader a clarification further ahead. In his own words, “. . . whether I have been so happy as rightly to explain the thing wherein consists the strength of motives, or not, my failing in this will not overthrow the position itself, which carries much of its own evidence with it, and is the thing of chief importance to the purpose of the ensuing discourse; and the truth of it I hope will appear with great clearness before I have finished what I have to say on the subject of human liberty.” (p.15, ¶2)
~Reepicheep~
In this section Edwards has spun a thick web of thoughts for his reader. Most meagerly educated persons—such as me—are likely to become lost by the abstraction of his discourse. I am left wanting at least three kinds of aid: first, identification and definition of particular terms he requires the reader to understand; second, a paragraph-by-paragraph outline of his argument to highlight his complex exposition; and finally an example that models the application of his rigorous distinctions and guiding principles.
Terms Important to this Section
Determine: to direct and commit towards something; to choose a particular
Determiner: used synonymously with “motive” (see MOTIVE below)
Will: that faculty of the human soul which chooses; this is not used by Edwards as a wildly autonomous faculty of the mind, rather, it is hinged to the choice itself—much like the sun and sunlight are inextricable
Object: the action committed to by a determined will; an objective; a candy bar is not a viable object as Edwards uses the term, rather, to eat the candy bar is an object of the determined will
Motive: the sum of what is within the sight of the choosing faculty which leads the mind to an act of choice; a motivation
Understanding: the perceiving faculty of the mind; distinct from the Will or the Appetites (including habit and instinct)
Excite: to energize with potential; a pre-action (imagined?) state of delight within the Will
Nature: the sum of all intrinsic qualities possessed by something
Circumstance: an extrinsic condition possessed by something
Good: in this context, whatever motive the mind acts upon is deemed “good” by the mind; the mind does not choose something that it does not believe is, at that moment, fully “good”; this is opposed to the GOOD sought after in the writings of Plato, etc.
Degree: a limiting aspect of any person’s ability to perceive
Manner: the limitations of perspective arising out of the incomplete relationship any viewer has with the thing viewed
Mind: this seems to be Edward’s most inclusive term, containing at least the understanding and the will; it is that within a person which reasons
State: a potentially nonpermanent quality of a thing; ice is a state of water—not its nature
Probable: a perceived likeliness; intuitive in his usage—not argued for or proven
Appetites: habits of taste developed over time—generally used in a pejorative manner; blind animal passions; the opposite of reason
Reason: a disposition of mind which seeks to understand the nature of a thing and its relationship to other things; that which classifies (e.g. language) and inquires about reality and the justification of knowledge claims; as opposed to the appetites
Lively: the state of something being excited, as he uses the term “excite”
Paragraph-by-Paragraph Brief
¶1……To “determine the will” is to choose a particular act as an object (or objective) over another (or others).
¶2……For a thing to be determined there must be “a determiner.” Either the will itself determines its own choice, or it is determined by something outside of itself.
¶3……The “determiner of the will” is a motive that the mind perceives to be strongest.
¶4……A motive is the whole of that which leads the mind to an act of volition. The “strongest motive” references the chief and final summation of the various parts of any motive which is acted upon.
¶5……A motive, in this sense, must be within the perception of the understanding.
¶6……Before a will commits to an act of choice, there are both stronger and weaker motives (or motivations) which excite the will; however, the will is always determined by the strongest motive.
¶7……Things viewed by the mind have their own nature and circumstances. The viewing mind has its own nature and circumstances. The view itself is limited by its own degree and manner. Appearances define reality for the mind. The strongest motive—upon which the mind invariably acts—is always deemed by that mind to be “good.”
¶8……“Good,” as used here, here simply means “pleasing” or “agreeable to.”
¶9……To choose what is more agreeable is to reject what is less agreeable. In the same sense, to choose what is “good” means to reject what is “evil.” Every consonance of the soul necessitates a rejection of some dissonance (what Locke calls “uneasiness”).
¶10…..The willing act involves direct or immediate perceptions of what action is good—not so much on remote objects. A man with liquor before him either wills to drink or to let the drink alone.
¶11…..A less direct object—instant pleasure over and against delayed hankering—is not directly presented to the will as an object of choice, and as such these are not what Edwards calls, “direct objects of volition.” The will cannot guarantee immediate pleasure or future misery; it can only choose to pick up or leave the drink.
¶12…..Based upon the distinctions above (¶10–11), Edwards says that, “the will always is as the greatest apparent good” rather than saying that, “the will is determined by the greatest apparent good.” Voluntary action is not determined by some separate abstraction called “choice”; rather simply that which appears in or about the mind’s view most agreeable.
¶13…..The apparent nature and circumstances of an object make it agreeable or disagreeable to the mind.
¶14…..Beauty or deformity can appear within the nature of an object rendering the mind disposed or indisposed to it.
¶15…..Attendant pleasure or trouble relative to the object may be considered part of the circumstances tightly bound to the object.
¶16…..All things being equal between two objects, a temporally nearer object will be viewed as possessing a more pleasing state than the further one.
¶17…..The manner of view—the dynamic relationship between an object and the mind—make that object agreeable or disagreeable to the mind.
¶18…..An object which appears to possess properties of pleasure more probable than another will appear more agreeable to the mind.
¶19…..We are most attached to (or influenced by) those things of which we have had sense experience. Positive experience gives an idea of something “liveliness.” Ideas apart from prior experience can at times possess a “lively quality.” All of the aforementioned contingencies (included in ¶13–18) affect the degree of “liveliness” attending such ideas.
¶20…..The temperament of the person affects his perception of an object because his views will be attached either to his appetites or to reason.
¶21…..The mind may cause the appearances of an object to vary between “beautiful” and “deformed”—making the object’s effect upon the mind more or less “lively.”
¶22…..Choice is always directed towards the greatest apparent good in a given moment.
¶23…..In some sense then, “the will always follows the last dictate of the understanding”—provided that the term “understanding” is taken to include both perception and reason (or judgment). But where Reason is speciously separated from Intuition or Habituation, then “understanding” is a divided thing and cannot be said to always rule the will.
¶24…..The ideas contained in this entire section are to be clarified in Edwards’ discourse on human liberty. His summation is: “the will is always determined by the strongest motive or by that view of the mind which has the greatest degree of previous tendency to excite volition.”
For Instance
I determined to read this section of our text and to journal my thoughts about it tonight instead of going to bed early or reading another book (¶1). Did my will act on its own or was there an external motivation? (¶2) There was a motive—what we commonly call “a reason”—behind this act (¶3). How can it be said that there was any single, driving motive that led me to choose? Afterall, my reasons were many: I thought that a day spent running errands should be balanced by an evening of rigorous contemplation; I was eager to catch up to where my colleagues were at in their readings; I was dissatisfied with my initial confusion after having first read the section several days ago; I was eager to post another outrageously long blog . . . and I suppose if I was patient enough, I could go on for a long time peeling apart the layers of my motivation. This is the point! All of these (and those unexamined) added together to weigh most heavily towards my determination to act. Altogether, Edwards would say, these lead to the formation of a strongest motive (¶4). I cannot imagine weightlessness as an alternative to my choice to read and write this evening because that is a state completely foreign to my understanding (¶5). While there were many exciting motives for the choice I made, the strongest motive ultimately engaged my will (¶6). I must have deemed it “good.” Why? The object of choice—reading and writing itself—had a particular nature and circumstantial quality. I, the person whose mind chose to read and write, have a particular nature and set of circumstances. The relation between my viewing and the object’s properties channels particular aspects of its nature more forcefully than others; in other words, there are other possible relations (e.g. if I were to revisit the possibility of reading and writing tomorrow morning, etc.) (¶7). By saying that reading and writing are “good,” I mean simply that the prospect pleased me more than some other alternative (¶8). The alternatives were esteemed “bad” by my choosing against them. I would have been “uneasy” without having chosen to read and write (¶9). My determination essentially came down to the motion of picking up the book and laptop rather than leaving them on my reading stand (¶10). I did not directly choose the virtue of discipline as more delightful than the vice of procrastination. Those are more remote objects of the will (¶11). At the commencement of my reading and writing, I must simply say that it pleased me—it was “good”—and I always do what appears “good” in that sense (¶12). This is not to say that reading and writing were necessarily good in and of themselves, rather that they appeared good to me at the point of volition (¶13). There was a kind of seemliness—a beauty of action—that presented itself to my mind as I considered what I would do. Likewise, there was a kind of inappropriateness—a deformity of action—in other options (¶14). Although the rigor involved in careful reading is not necessarily part of its nature (for a more intelligent person there might not be any rigor), it does attend my view of the choice so closely that it can be said to be part of the choice (¶15). What pleasure may be found in reading Freedom of the Will is much more accessible than that to be had in reading Calvin’s Institutes of Christian Religion because I do not have a copy of the Institutes in hand. The nearer of two pleasing objects is always deemed the most pleasing (¶16). Given my present circumstances—that the Edwards text is subject of much focus by my colleagues and given that my Dean procured the text for my study as an act of generosity, my perspective on the text affects a much greater degree of delight to my mind than if I were reading it alone and had purchased it against the better sense of my prudent, frugal wife (¶17). It is also more probable, in my estimation, that I will find deeper satisfaction in engaging with this book than in reading Kurt Vonnegut’s Welcome to the Monkey House (¶18). The idea of reading the Edwards is influenced by my recent, positive experience. Because of this positive experience, the idea of engaging again in further reading has a “lively quality” within my mind (¶19). My temperament, sometimes melancholy other times sanguine, is often given to the semi-obsessive pursuit of following Edwards’ line of thought (¶20). When I am inclined towards melancholy, the prospect of reading and writing takes on a more “beautiful” quality than when I am feeling sanguine (¶21). All of this adds up to making a choice: and I have chosen—as I will always do, according to Edwards—the greatest apparent good at the moment of choice (¶22). Does my Will then follow the last dictate of my Understanding? It seems that the answer depends on how we define “Understanding.” There are unexamined factors—other than reason alone—that greatly affect the mind. The whole of perception and reason combined may be said to, “rule the Will.” (¶23) Finally, my choice to read and write was governed by my motivation towards it based on previous, positive experiences which enlivened my view beyond the choice to not read and write (¶24).
If I have followed him correctly, Edwards has devised an architectural theory of the human soul (what he broadly sometimes refers to as the “mind”) in three interrelating parts: the understanding, the will and the appetites. These appear to be based on Platonic distinctions. The understanding perceives and reasons. The will chooses and therein engages the body. The appetites somehow engage unexamined mental processes that include intuition, the “subconscious,” habit, and instinct. His summation of this section is, “. . . the will is always determined by the strongest motive, or by that view of the mind which has the greatest degree of previous tendency to excite volition.” (p.15, ¶2)
In the end, Edwards admits that this has been a rather confusing section and he anticipates for the reader a clarification further ahead. In his own words, “. . . whether I have been so happy as rightly to explain the thing wherein consists the strength of motives, or not, my failing in this will not overthrow the position itself, which carries much of its own evidence with it, and is the thing of chief importance to the purpose of the ensuing discourse; and the truth of it I hope will appear with great clearness before I have finished what I have to say on the subject of human liberty.” (p.15, ¶2)
~Reepicheep~
Monday, June 11, 2007
"I utterly disclaim dependence of Calvin"
Two Questions:
1. What sort of "ballast" do you think we can gain from Edwards's distinguishing himself a Calvinist while "utterly" disclaiming a dependence upon Calvin?
2. Is it easier to run from a distinction [perhaps being distinquished as a Baptist or Anglican] than to bear its "reproach" by identifying with its name properly understood?
1. What sort of "ballast" do you think we can gain from Edwards's distinguishing himself a Calvinist while "utterly" disclaiming a dependence upon Calvin?
2. Is it easier to run from a distinction [perhaps being distinquished as a Baptist or Anglican] than to bear its "reproach" by identifying with its name properly understood?
Saturday, June 9, 2007
On the Road
Gents, I am writing from AVP on my way to Flint, MI for church tomorrow and then on to Diane's family outside of Chicago. I'll keep up with the reading, but I expect that it will be difficult to find an Internet connection. If that turns out to be the case, I'll re-connect in a few days.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
A Theological Free-for-All
So now we "progress" [very Bunyanesque] forward to freedom. And here it is that Edwards defers to common speech [unlike the Arminians who deconstruct what is the common notion of the word]. Edwards defines the common understanding of liberty in 3 ways:
1. "Power, opportunity, advantage, that anyone has to do as he pleases" [p. 32].
2. "His being free from hindrance or impediment in the way of doing, or conducting, in any respect, as he wills" [p. 32].
3. "Let the person come by his volition or choice how he will, yet, if he is able, and there is nothing in the way to hinder his pursuing and exercising his will [like maybe a sin nature wired to suppress the truth in unrighteousness], the man is fully and perfectly free, according to the primary and common notion of freedom" [p. 33].
Enter the Arminians stage left with their deconstructed meaning of the common notion of freedom. Boo! signs are raised as cringing Calvinists hear the menacing strains of an out of tune barroom/local church piano assaulting their common sensibilities.
The Arminian has an entirely different "signification" of freedom defined by Edwards in 3 ways.
1. "A self-determining power in the will, or a certain sovereignty the will has over itself, and its own acts, whereby it determines its own volitions; so as not to be dependent on any cause" [p. 33]. Perhaps a bit Whitmanesque like: "I am the master of my fate / I am the captain of my soul . . ."
2. The mind is freely indifferent prior to the act of volition or in a state of equlibrio. The mind is [propensity for greatest good cast aside] free of preference before its act of volition [pp. 33-34].
3. The will is opposed to the notion of some previous reason of its existence or [p. 34].
Enter the moral agent [p. 34] stage right who is a being capable of those actions that have a moral quality [good or evil in a moral sense].
And add to that moral agent a moral faculty [p. 34] or a sense of moral good and evil. This moral faculty [not exactly an Arminian notion of freedom] has a capacity of being influenced in his actions by moral inducements [motives] exhibited to the understanding and reason.
e.g. A thief, a moral agent, will act by way of moral inducement [an unguarded wallet full of cash sitting on his roommates desk] according to his moral faculty.
The sun, fire, and brute creatures [our Bichon Kramer] are not moral agents. Kramer is not like the thief, even though he will take food wherever he may find it. The difference is that Kramer is acting on instinct and not from a sense of moral good and evil. That is why Edwards’s 15th resolution reads: "Resolved, never to suffer the least motions of anger towards irrational beings."
We end with God as possessing the "essential qualities of a moral agent in the greatest possible perfection." These lines are simply gorgeous:
"The essential qualities of a moral agent are in God in the greatest possible perfection; such as understanding, to perceive the difference between moral good and evil; a capacity of discerning that moral worthiness and demerit by which some things are praiseworthy, others deserving of blame and punishment; and also a capacity of choice, and choice guided by understanding, and a power of acting according to his choice or pleasure, and being capable of doing those things which are in the highest sense praiseworthy. And herein does very much consist that image of God wherein he made man [Genesis 1.26-17; 9.6], by which God distinguished man from the beasts" [pp. 35-36].
1. "Power, opportunity, advantage, that anyone has to do as he pleases" [p. 32].
2. "His being free from hindrance or impediment in the way of doing, or conducting, in any respect, as he wills" [p. 32].
3. "Let the person come by his volition or choice how he will, yet, if he is able, and there is nothing in the way to hinder his pursuing and exercising his will [like maybe a sin nature wired to suppress the truth in unrighteousness], the man is fully and perfectly free, according to the primary and common notion of freedom" [p. 33].
Enter the Arminians stage left with their deconstructed meaning of the common notion of freedom. Boo! signs are raised as cringing Calvinists hear the menacing strains of an out of tune barroom/local church piano assaulting their common sensibilities.
The Arminian has an entirely different "signification" of freedom defined by Edwards in 3 ways.
1. "A self-determining power in the will, or a certain sovereignty the will has over itself, and its own acts, whereby it determines its own volitions; so as not to be dependent on any cause" [p. 33]. Perhaps a bit Whitmanesque like: "I am the master of my fate / I am the captain of my soul . . ."
2. The mind is freely indifferent prior to the act of volition or in a state of equlibrio. The mind is [propensity for greatest good cast aside] free of preference before its act of volition [pp. 33-34].
3. The will is opposed to the notion of some previous reason of its existence or [p. 34].
Enter the moral agent [p. 34] stage right who is a being capable of those actions that have a moral quality [good or evil in a moral sense].
And add to that moral agent a moral faculty [p. 34] or a sense of moral good and evil. This moral faculty [not exactly an Arminian notion of freedom] has a capacity of being influenced in his actions by moral inducements [motives] exhibited to the understanding and reason.
e.g. A thief, a moral agent, will act by way of moral inducement [an unguarded wallet full of cash sitting on his roommates desk] according to his moral faculty.
The sun, fire, and brute creatures [our Bichon Kramer] are not moral agents. Kramer is not like the thief, even though he will take food wherever he may find it. The difference is that Kramer is acting on instinct and not from a sense of moral good and evil. That is why Edwards’s 15th resolution reads: "Resolved, never to suffer the least motions of anger towards irrational beings."
We end with God as possessing the "essential qualities of a moral agent in the greatest possible perfection." These lines are simply gorgeous:
"The essential qualities of a moral agent are in God in the greatest possible perfection; such as understanding, to perceive the difference between moral good and evil; a capacity of discerning that moral worthiness and demerit by which some things are praiseworthy, others deserving of blame and punishment; and also a capacity of choice, and choice guided by understanding, and a power of acting according to his choice or pleasure, and being capable of doing those things which are in the highest sense praiseworthy. And herein does very much consist that image of God wherein he made man [Genesis 1.26-17; 9.6], by which God distinguished man from the beasts" [pp. 35-36].
Monday, June 4, 2007
Reepicheep's notes on Part I, Section I
Part I, Section I: Concerning the Nature of the Will
Edwards begins his inquiry by defining terms for the reader. Obviously, he must begin with a definition of the human will. He offers first what he calls a “plain definition” of the WILL: “that by which the mind chooses any thing. The faculty of the will is that faculty or power, or principle of mind, by which it is capable of choosing: an act of the will is the same as an act of choosing or choice.” (pg.1, ¶2)
It is most important that he appeals to plain language before he addresses the, “philosophers, metaphysicians, and polemic divines [who have] brought the matter into obscurity by the things they have said about it.” (pg.1, ¶1, emphasis added) If we are to follow our author properly, it seems to me that we must hound his comments on the use and abuse of language very closely—taking careful notice of his preference for language categories of common expression rather than those of attenuated discourse. He is not altogether removed from his discussion about language in the preface.
He spends considerable energy attempting to repair what John Locke has divided in his treatise Human Understanding concerning the nature of the will. Edwards argues that Locke has created a false linguistic dichotomy between volition (choosing) and preference. “Preference,” according to Locke, may include fancied impossibilities. Edwards disagrees: preference may only include fancied possibilities. Locke says that a man may, “prefer flying to walking, yet who can say he ever wills it?” (pg.2, ¶2) Edwards counters that flight is a remote possibility (essentially impossible), and ought to be distinguished from the only two actual, possible preferences: preferring to walk or its opposite, preferring not to walk.
Why has the author expended such energy on this distinction? I believe there are two reasons. First, he wants to clarify his understanding of human nature. Buried in his prose, we read his view of human nature, “And God has so made and established the human nature, the soul being united to a body in proper state, that the soul preferring or choosing such an immediate exertion or alteration of the body, such an alteration instantaneously follows.” (pg.3, ¶1) Here, Edwards is fusing the will proper to actions of the will. The two are practically inseparable to him. All of this returns to his concern about language. He writes, “. . . if we distinguish the proper objects of the several acts of the will, it will not appear, by this and such like instances, that there is any difference between volition and preference; or that a man’s choosing, liking best, or being best pleased with a thing, are not the same with his willing that thing; as they seem to be according to those general and more natural motions of men, according to which language is formed.” (pg.3, ¶1, emphasis added) He tidies this up with, “Thus, an act of the will is commonly expressed by its pleasing a man to do thus or thus; and a man doing as he wills, and doing as he pleases, are the same thing in common speech.” (pg.3, ¶1, emphasis added) This then we see is the second reason for our author’s disagreement with Locke’s terminology: he desires to preserve plain language categories.
Clear definitions of words and a responsible hermeneutic process are important to all interpretations of the written word. It seems that Edwards is attempting to wrest from near-obscurity the plain meanings of words that he must use in his discourse to follow. We stand to gain much from his approach in light of the writings of some contemporary Christian theologians. Concerning the nature of language, John R. Franke writes in his text, The Character of Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), “. . . meaning is not related, at least not directly or primarily, to an external world of facts waiting to be apprehended. Instead, meaning is an internal function of language. Because the meaning of a statement is dependent on the context or the language game in which it appears, a sentence has as many meanings as the contexts in which it is used.” (pp. 24–25) He then adds, “Viewing language in this fashion presumes that it does not have its genesis in the individual mind grasping a truth or fact about the world and then expressing it in statements. Rather, language is a social phenomenon, and a statement acquires meaning within the process of social interaction.” (pg. 25)
To adopt Franke’s argument is to disallow any lasting significance to his own “anti-category” linguistic categories. If language is indeed unrelated to reality (his trepid “external world of facts”), we can all happily lose his book in our circular filing systems because he has himself damned any good straight out of his own pen and ink. Perhaps one day our progeny, strolling through the Museum of Unnatural History, will pass a single corral containing the fossilized remains of the committed relativist and the linguistic deconstructionist—their legacy summed up in ten, decisive words: “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”
Language can be slippery underfoot. This is why the earnest process of carefully defining terms is a plain solution to the problem of securing an intellectual footing across centuries. Once again the 18th Century Puritan has more to teach us than the 21st Century Postmodern.
~Reepicheep~
Edwards begins his inquiry by defining terms for the reader. Obviously, he must begin with a definition of the human will. He offers first what he calls a “plain definition” of the WILL: “that by which the mind chooses any thing. The faculty of the will is that faculty or power, or principle of mind, by which it is capable of choosing: an act of the will is the same as an act of choosing or choice.” (pg.1, ¶2)
It is most important that he appeals to plain language before he addresses the, “philosophers, metaphysicians, and polemic divines [who have] brought the matter into obscurity by the things they have said about it.” (pg.1, ¶1, emphasis added) If we are to follow our author properly, it seems to me that we must hound his comments on the use and abuse of language very closely—taking careful notice of his preference for language categories of common expression rather than those of attenuated discourse. He is not altogether removed from his discussion about language in the preface.
He spends considerable energy attempting to repair what John Locke has divided in his treatise Human Understanding concerning the nature of the will. Edwards argues that Locke has created a false linguistic dichotomy between volition (choosing) and preference. “Preference,” according to Locke, may include fancied impossibilities. Edwards disagrees: preference may only include fancied possibilities. Locke says that a man may, “prefer flying to walking, yet who can say he ever wills it?” (pg.2, ¶2) Edwards counters that flight is a remote possibility (essentially impossible), and ought to be distinguished from the only two actual, possible preferences: preferring to walk or its opposite, preferring not to walk.
Why has the author expended such energy on this distinction? I believe there are two reasons. First, he wants to clarify his understanding of human nature. Buried in his prose, we read his view of human nature, “And God has so made and established the human nature, the soul being united to a body in proper state, that the soul preferring or choosing such an immediate exertion or alteration of the body, such an alteration instantaneously follows.” (pg.3, ¶1) Here, Edwards is fusing the will proper to actions of the will. The two are practically inseparable to him. All of this returns to his concern about language. He writes, “. . . if we distinguish the proper objects of the several acts of the will, it will not appear, by this and such like instances, that there is any difference between volition and preference; or that a man’s choosing, liking best, or being best pleased with a thing, are not the same with his willing that thing; as they seem to be according to those general and more natural motions of men, according to which language is formed.” (pg.3, ¶1, emphasis added) He tidies this up with, “Thus, an act of the will is commonly expressed by its pleasing a man to do thus or thus; and a man doing as he wills, and doing as he pleases, are the same thing in common speech.” (pg.3, ¶1, emphasis added) This then we see is the second reason for our author’s disagreement with Locke’s terminology: he desires to preserve plain language categories.
Clear definitions of words and a responsible hermeneutic process are important to all interpretations of the written word. It seems that Edwards is attempting to wrest from near-obscurity the plain meanings of words that he must use in his discourse to follow. We stand to gain much from his approach in light of the writings of some contemporary Christian theologians. Concerning the nature of language, John R. Franke writes in his text, The Character of Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), “. . . meaning is not related, at least not directly or primarily, to an external world of facts waiting to be apprehended. Instead, meaning is an internal function of language. Because the meaning of a statement is dependent on the context or the language game in which it appears, a sentence has as many meanings as the contexts in which it is used.” (pp. 24–25) He then adds, “Viewing language in this fashion presumes that it does not have its genesis in the individual mind grasping a truth or fact about the world and then expressing it in statements. Rather, language is a social phenomenon, and a statement acquires meaning within the process of social interaction.” (pg. 25)
To adopt Franke’s argument is to disallow any lasting significance to his own “anti-category” linguistic categories. If language is indeed unrelated to reality (his trepid “external world of facts”), we can all happily lose his book in our circular filing systems because he has himself damned any good straight out of his own pen and ink. Perhaps one day our progeny, strolling through the Museum of Unnatural History, will pass a single corral containing the fossilized remains of the committed relativist and the linguistic deconstructionist—their legacy summed up in ten, decisive words: “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”
Language can be slippery underfoot. This is why the earnest process of carefully defining terms is a plain solution to the problem of securing an intellectual footing across centuries. Once again the 18th Century Puritan has more to teach us than the 21st Century Postmodern.
~Reepicheep~
Reepicheep's notes on the PREFACE
Preface
The preface to Jonathan Edwards’ Freedom of the Will is an apologia for the use of distinct names to demarcate particular systems of theological conviction. His prime examples are the titles Calvinist and Arminian.
With a generous acknowledgment towards Christians who claim that the use of such distinctive titles may, “stigmatize those that differ from them with odious names,” (vi, ¶1) Edwards affirms that the practice of naming is an essential function of language. He says this succinctly, “. . . it is always a defect in language . . . to be obliged to make use of a description instead of a name,” (vii, ¶1) and later, “. . . our speech is delivered from the burden of a continual reiteration of diffuse descriptions, with which it must otherwise be embarrassed.” (viii, ¶1) Edwards cites the identification of persons whose ethnic, cultural, and linguistic backgrounds are from a particular geographical point (e.g. Spanish, French, etc) as plain testimony to the common sense of this practice.
The first project God gave Adam was to name, “every beast of the field and every bird of the heavens” (Gen. 2:18–20 ESV). In the place of, “that twelve-foot-tall, gray-colored, tusk-bearing, several-ton beast with heavy footfalls and an elongated nose that roams primarily in the sub-tropical region of that land-mass southwest of Eden,” Adam would have us speak of, “elephant.” For all of the possible implications some Bible scholars may unfold from Adam’s naming of the beasts, the advantageous use of language is perhaps most profound. By naming, Adam at least created an efficient nominal tool—even though we need not concede that so limiting the scope of his project is of philosophical necessity. God, creator of every beast, then blessed the man’s work of naming. “And whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name.” (Gen. 2:19 ESV)
Nothing reproves the narrow-mindedness of one century quite like the keen sensibilities of another. Our contemporary milieu is truly enlightened by Edwards. Many Christians today would have us believe that because distinctive titles tend towards marginalization—e.g. “Protestant,” or invoke proscriptive paradigms of theology—e.g. “Baptist,” they ought to on that account be discontinued. In his forward to Brian McLaren’s book A Generous Orthodoxy (Zondervan, 2004), John R. Franke writes of the modern surge towards ecumenicism, “Many of these developments can be traced to the failure of modernity’s categories and paradigms to recognize the social and cultural diversity of the human experience. This failure has prompted the emergence of postmodern theory with its critique of certain, objective, universal knowledge and its quest to construct new forms of thought in the aftermath of modernity.” The very first thing this postmodern theory attempts to cripple is the commonsense use of language used to name aggregations. It is instructive for contemporary Christian thinkers who are disinclined to postmodern theory to observe how Edwards, centuries removed from our time and writing during the zenith of Franke and McLaren’s oh-so-regrettable Enlightenment, gently dismantles this mindset.
I think that one quote from Edwards which deserves our full review comes from his closing paragraph: “Of all kinds of knowledge that we can ever obtain, the knowledge of God, and the knowledge of ourselves, are the most important. As religion is the great business for which we are created, and on which our happiness depends; and as religion consists in an intercourse between ourselves and our Maker, and so has its foundation in God’s nature and ours, and in the relation that God and we stand to each other; therefore a true knowledge of both must be needful, in order to true religion. But the knowledge of ourselves consists chiefly in right apprehensions concerning those two chief faculties of our nature, the understanding and the will.” (xi, ¶2)
It seems to me that this quote would stand well as a foundation statement for a Christian philosophy of education.
One last observation from the preface stems from this quote: “. . . if the reader be disposed to pass his censure on what I have written, [I request that] I may be fully and patiently heard, and well attended to, before I am condemned. However, this is what I would humbly ask of my readers, together with the prayers of all sincere lovers of truth, that I may have much of that Spirit which Christ promised his disciples, which guides into all truth: and that the blessed and powerful influences of this Spirit would make truth victorious in the world.” (xii, ¶1)
My observation is this: to engage in a scientific inquiry concerning the human soul is not to somehow resist the work of the Spirit but rather to humbly labor with the will of God. Too often rational inquiry is, in our branch of Christendom, deemed a pursuit at odds with the fruit of godliness. I am inclined to see the opposite posture as a godless one: where inquiry itself is shunned for fear that it must necessarily oppose divine revelation. It seems to me that we ought rather to pray with Edwards, “that I may have much of that Spirit which Christ promised his disciples, which guides into all truth: and that the blessed and powerful influences of this Spirit would make truth victorious in the world,” remembering that this is the starting point of rational inquiry!
~Reepicheep~
The preface to Jonathan Edwards’ Freedom of the Will is an apologia for the use of distinct names to demarcate particular systems of theological conviction. His prime examples are the titles Calvinist and Arminian.
With a generous acknowledgment towards Christians who claim that the use of such distinctive titles may, “stigmatize those that differ from them with odious names,” (vi, ¶1) Edwards affirms that the practice of naming is an essential function of language. He says this succinctly, “. . . it is always a defect in language . . . to be obliged to make use of a description instead of a name,” (vii, ¶1) and later, “. . . our speech is delivered from the burden of a continual reiteration of diffuse descriptions, with which it must otherwise be embarrassed.” (viii, ¶1) Edwards cites the identification of persons whose ethnic, cultural, and linguistic backgrounds are from a particular geographical point (e.g. Spanish, French, etc) as plain testimony to the common sense of this practice.
The first project God gave Adam was to name, “every beast of the field and every bird of the heavens” (Gen. 2:18–20 ESV). In the place of, “that twelve-foot-tall, gray-colored, tusk-bearing, several-ton beast with heavy footfalls and an elongated nose that roams primarily in the sub-tropical region of that land-mass southwest of Eden,” Adam would have us speak of, “elephant.” For all of the possible implications some Bible scholars may unfold from Adam’s naming of the beasts, the advantageous use of language is perhaps most profound. By naming, Adam at least created an efficient nominal tool—even though we need not concede that so limiting the scope of his project is of philosophical necessity. God, creator of every beast, then blessed the man’s work of naming. “And whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name.” (Gen. 2:19 ESV)
Nothing reproves the narrow-mindedness of one century quite like the keen sensibilities of another. Our contemporary milieu is truly enlightened by Edwards. Many Christians today would have us believe that because distinctive titles tend towards marginalization—e.g. “Protestant,” or invoke proscriptive paradigms of theology—e.g. “Baptist,” they ought to on that account be discontinued. In his forward to Brian McLaren’s book A Generous Orthodoxy (Zondervan, 2004), John R. Franke writes of the modern surge towards ecumenicism, “Many of these developments can be traced to the failure of modernity’s categories and paradigms to recognize the social and cultural diversity of the human experience. This failure has prompted the emergence of postmodern theory with its critique of certain, objective, universal knowledge and its quest to construct new forms of thought in the aftermath of modernity.” The very first thing this postmodern theory attempts to cripple is the commonsense use of language used to name aggregations. It is instructive for contemporary Christian thinkers who are disinclined to postmodern theory to observe how Edwards, centuries removed from our time and writing during the zenith of Franke and McLaren’s oh-so-regrettable Enlightenment, gently dismantles this mindset.
I think that one quote from Edwards which deserves our full review comes from his closing paragraph: “Of all kinds of knowledge that we can ever obtain, the knowledge of God, and the knowledge of ourselves, are the most important. As religion is the great business for which we are created, and on which our happiness depends; and as religion consists in an intercourse between ourselves and our Maker, and so has its foundation in God’s nature and ours, and in the relation that God and we stand to each other; therefore a true knowledge of both must be needful, in order to true religion. But the knowledge of ourselves consists chiefly in right apprehensions concerning those two chief faculties of our nature, the understanding and the will.” (xi, ¶2)
It seems to me that this quote would stand well as a foundation statement for a Christian philosophy of education.
One last observation from the preface stems from this quote: “. . . if the reader be disposed to pass his censure on what I have written, [I request that] I may be fully and patiently heard, and well attended to, before I am condemned. However, this is what I would humbly ask of my readers, together with the prayers of all sincere lovers of truth, that I may have much of that Spirit which Christ promised his disciples, which guides into all truth: and that the blessed and powerful influences of this Spirit would make truth victorious in the world.” (xii, ¶1)
My observation is this: to engage in a scientific inquiry concerning the human soul is not to somehow resist the work of the Spirit but rather to humbly labor with the will of God. Too often rational inquiry is, in our branch of Christendom, deemed a pursuit at odds with the fruit of godliness. I am inclined to see the opposite posture as a godless one: where inquiry itself is shunned for fear that it must necessarily oppose divine revelation. It seems to me that we ought rather to pray with Edwards, “that I may have much of that Spirit which Christ promised his disciples, which guides into all truth: and that the blessed and powerful influences of this Spirit would make truth victorious in the world,” remembering that this is the starting point of rational inquiry!
~Reepicheep~
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Wasps, Sows, and Inability
"No wasp will make honey; before it will do that it must be transformed into a bee. A sow will not sit up to wash its face like the cat before the fire; neither will a debauched person take delight in holiness. No devil could praise the Lord as angels do, and no unregenerate man can offer acceptable service as the saints do." from Charles Spurgeon's Sermon Notes [Volume I, No. 14].
http://www.sovereign-grace.com/spurgeon-sn/achsnindex.htm
http://www.sovereign-grace.com/spurgeon-sn/achsnindex.htm
moral and natural inability
Moral and natural necessity [see post on necessity] "serve to explain" moral and natural inability.
Natural Inability - "We are said to be naturally uable to do a thing, when we cannot do it if we will, because what is commonly called nature does not allow of it, or because some defect obstacle that is extrinsic to the will either in the faculty of the understanding, constitution of body, or external objects."
e.g. Bartimaeus was naturally unable to see [Mark 10.46]
Moral Inability - "The want [lack] of inclination, or the strength of a contrary inclination, or the lack of sufficient motives in view to induce and excite the action of the will [I Cor. 2.14].
eg. "A woman of great honor and chastity may have a moral inability to prostitute herself to a slave." [p. 28]
So both natural and moral inability "consists in the oppostion or want of inclination. For when a person is unable to will or choose a thing . . . it is the same thing as his being unable of a contrary inclination."
Or as Piper writes when summarizing Andrew Fuller's views [informed by Edwards] on inability: "It is just as impossible for you to choose to do what you have no inclination to do as it is to do what you have no physical ability to do."
Natural Inability - "We are said to be naturally uable to do a thing, when we cannot do it if we will, because what is commonly called nature does not allow of it, or because some defect obstacle that is extrinsic to the will either in the faculty of the understanding, constitution of body, or external objects."
e.g. Bartimaeus was naturally unable to see [Mark 10.46]
Moral Inability - "The want [lack] of inclination, or the strength of a contrary inclination, or the lack of sufficient motives in view to induce and excite the action of the will [I Cor. 2.14].
eg. "A woman of great honor and chastity may have a moral inability to prostitute herself to a slave." [p. 28]
So both natural and moral inability "consists in the oppostion or want of inclination. For when a person is unable to will or choose a thing . . . it is the same thing as his being unable of a contrary inclination."
Or as Piper writes when summarizing Andrew Fuller's views [informed by Edwards] on inability: "It is just as impossible for you to choose to do what you have no inclination to do as it is to do what you have no physical ability to do."
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