Saturday, October 18, 2014

"City of God" XX.18-19

Chapter 18:
Augustine discusses Peter's treatment of the end of the world, and explains that when the world burns the flames will not harm us, because we will be in the heavenly presence of God.

Chapter 19:
When Paul writes of the antichrist in 1 Thessalonians, he doesn't exactly mean the Roman Empire, instead he means the great deceiver who will come at the end and lead people astray immediately before Christ returns.

Friday, October 17, 2014

"City of God" XX.15-17

Chapter 15:
When the dead are resurrected from the sea, death, and hell, the idea is not that God lost them in each of these places and had to go find them. The idea is more that He knows exactly where everyone is even after death, even if they're lost at sea and even if they're in hell. God is sovereign over everything, so we need not fear someone escaping the last day.

Chapter 16-17:
When we think about the new heaven and the new earth, we should think about a place of unchanging joy (which is why there is said to be "no sea" there--there is none of the chaos that marks the ocean). What's more, this shall be a place of joy and peace, with no sorrow or death and where the saints shall dwell in eternal life in the direct presence of God Himself.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

"City of God" XX.13-14

Chapter 13:
Here Augustine enters a complex discussion of dates and times, namely of whether the 3.5 years are part of the millennium, or something different. Confession: I skimmed this chapter and don't have much more to say about it.

Chapter 14:
This is the beginning of a discussion of the resurrection and the final judgment, in which Augustine explores how people will be raised, where they will be raised from, and what will happen at the last day.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

The Dying European State Church

Most Americans (myself included, at least until a ways into grad school) haven't thought much about "established" churches. In case you're wondering, an "established" church can mean a variety of things, depending on which nation you happen to be looking at. The common theme is that all established churches are in some way supported by the state, and in turn often have civic roles to play. (Both of those are wrong, if you want my usually-less-than-humble baptist opinion.) Though this support and role have both diminished over the last two centuries, they are still to some extent political and social realities.

Churches not under the umbrella of the established church are "dissenters" (to use the English word for them), and often exist in a quasi-legal realm, or at least have a diminished social/political status. To be sure these dissenters are not persecuted (with occasional interesting exceptions like Francis Schaeffer, driven out of a Catholic Canton of Switzerland for being a Protestant), but neither do they have access to the same resources or public position that the established church has.

All of that by way of introduction to the main point: the established churches are dying. Although it can be virtually impossible to tell how many people are actually in the pews in an established church on any given Sunday, the general wisdom says that those pews are mostly empty. The few who do attend tend to be elderly--both parishioners and preachers. Because Europeans don't poll themselves as obsessively as Americans do the data isn't as hard as we might like, but the evidence is still there. Just to provide a few examples:
  • In 2005 in Ireland, church attendance was about 60%. Which sounds high, until we realize that's down from 85% in the mid 1970s. 
  • Continental (Western) Europe is in a much worse state, with church attendance hovering around 15%.
  • Stats in Central and Eastern Europe (again, remembering the paucity of polls to pull from) are marginally better, if we include churches like the Orthodox or Catholic, which are sometimes "established" and sometimes simply tolerated, but in either case they usually have much more in common with the state churches than with the dissenters. 
  • Northern Europe is even worse off, hovering in the 3-5% range. 
  • And, the statistic/article that was the driving force behind this blog post, the Church of England has a life-expectancy of 20 years. "In the past 40 years, the number of adult churchgoers has halved, while the number of children attending regular worship has declined by four fifths. The Rev Dr Patrick Richmond, a Synod member from Norwich, told the meeting that some projections suggested that the Church would no longer be “functionally extant” in 20 years’ time."
Now, assuming that these statistics are all somewhat accurate, and assuming that dissenting congregations are not included in the decline (and they shouldn't be--there are little pockets of healthy and growing Baptist, Reformed, and other Evangelical congregations all over Europe), this raises some interesting questions for the future of religion in Europe, namely: 
  1. When the state church is functionally dead, what will happen to the religious laws of the nation? 
  2. What will be the status of the "dissenting" churches when the established church dies? 
Don't get me wrong, I have no particular concern for the well-being of these institutional churches. They kicked any kind of traditional orthodoxy to the curb so long ago that it would be more honest for them to just give up the title "church" and call themselves, oh, I don't know, "association of friendly do-gooders" or some such.
The Archbishop of Canterbury: Great threads, terrible theology.
And I'll admit some amusement at the thought of a Pope speaking ex cathedra in Rome with no attending congregation there to hear it--the practice of devaluing the people finally in line with the doctrine of Papal selection established back in the 11th century. It may be that in the middle of the 21st century, the papacy could be moved much farther away than Avignon (Buenos Aires? Lagos? Singapore?) with no one left in Europe to bother calling it a "schism" or a "captivity." 

But, schadenfreude aside, these are serious questions that European Christians are going to have to face within the next twenty years. In that time frame, they are going to go from being perceived as a fringe minority hanging on the coattails of a long-established institution to simply being a fringe minority--and not a particularly popular fringe minority at that. This is a challenge where
  1. Americans will have little to offer in terms of support. Not only do we have our own issues, but we don't really have a category for thinking about the disappearance of a state church. In this sense, the Europeans will be on their own. With a possible exception pointed out below...
  2. European believers still have some time to think. Twenty years may be an optimistic estimate, or it may be a minimum, but I don't know that there's any doubt as to the final outcome for the state church of Europe. Instituting new programs designed to get people into the seats may mean some delay to the death of the state churches, but it will only be delay, not a cure. In the meanwhile, European Christians should serious reflect on the direction their countries are heading.
  3. Immigration will have a role to play. Primarily immigration into Europe of "other" religions has meant Muslims (which may also play a role in these issues, though I lack the expertise to know exactly what that role might be). But there may be Catholic immigrants, Orthodox immigrants, and even dissenting immigrants. These will have to be accounted for somehow, though I have no idea as to how. 
  4. There may be help from those in similar situations in non-Western nations. While America has nothing to offer, Christians in Korea, Japan, China, and other nations might have useful thoughts that will be of value to believers in the Europe of twenty years from now. After all, they've been living as a minority and may have helpful suggestions that Americans are ill equipped to provide.
So, what does the future hold for Christians in Europe? Frankly, I don't know. But I do know that it's something they shouldn't wait twenty years to think about. 

"City of God" XX.10-12

Chapter 10:
Some people say that the only thing that will happen at the Resurrection is that our bodies will be raised up and restored. But (Augustine doesn't explicitly say, but this is in the background) this is functionally gnosticism, since we need a recreation of both body and soul--we are not good souls wrapped up in wicked flesh.

Chapter 11:
We shouldn't understand "Gog" and "Magog" to be actual nations, but rather the powers of the city of man that are sent out against the outposts of the City of God in this world.

Chapter 12:
Nor should we understand the "fire from heaven" to mean the final judgment, but rather God's declared wrath against His enemies as it generally stands.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

"City of God" XX.9

Chapter 9:
Just as with the binding and loosing of Satan, so with the kingdom of heaven and the reign of the saints we should understand multiple levels of meaning. Right now, for example, the saints "reign" with Christ over the earth, though as with Christ's reign it is not necessarily a direct one since Satan is temporarily loosed.
Likewise there will come a day when the kingdom has fully come and the Church of God is purified so that it truly is the City of God unmixed with the world. Until then, those with the mark of the beast and those of us who have believed the Gospel are mixed together even in the gathering of the visible church, which will be the case until the final judgment.

Monday, October 13, 2014

"City of God" XX.8

Chapter 8:
We should understand that the binding and loosing of Satan spoken of in Revelation has multiple layers of meaning. For example, right now he is both bound and loosed--bound in the sense that he cannot touch our salvation, but loose in the sense that we are still subject to temptation by him. But there will also come day when (for a short time) he has more free rein in his persecution of the church and driving the city of man into greater rebellion, followed by a day when he will be totally bound. So there is much subtlety in this kind of Scripture.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

In which all your questions about baptism and communion are asked

A caveat stolen from Frank Turk: My views are my own, not those of the church that holds me accountable. I mean, some of them are. But not all. Maybe not even many.

I've been following with some delight the recent discussion over baptism and communion at Reformation21. The course of posts (so far) looks something like this:
  1. Mark Jones threw down the gauntlet when he criticized the practice of "closed" communion, where some Baptist churches only allow someone to take communion if they have been baptized by immersion after coming to faith--even if said Baptist church would admit they are legitimately believers. Jones notes:

    "Those holding to the closed communion view usually argue that people who have been baptized by sprinkling/pouring are not welcome to the Lord's table or membership in a Baptist church since they haven't actually been baptized. A baptism by effusion/pouring is invalid, not irregular, according to this view."

    This, in turn becomes a criticism of the Baptist view of "immersion only" as opposed to pouring or sprinkling, and finally a criticism of the practice of believer's baptism itself as opposed to infant baptism. And so, Jones concludes, Baptists of this stripe are guilty of a close-minded lack of catholicity which refuses to allow legitimate believers to the Lord's Table, even while admitting that they are legitimate believers. (This is language that comes from a later post, but everything that follows is here in seed form.)

    "They don't really want to say that Presbyterians, and others, aren't visible Christians, do they? Maybe we're invisible Christians? I don't know. But I think the consistency of their position demands that they can't really call most of Christendom, Christians! Think about that."

    (In case you're wondering, this is the best line in the piece: "I find it funny how Baptists are normally so zealous regarding the mode of baptism, but then use grape juice for communion.")

    Jones helpfully links to this defense of closed communion by Russell Moore and this one by Denny Burk, and this explanation of closed and open communion (and defense of open communion) by Joe Thorn.

    In a follow-up piece, Jones replies to Michael Haykin's reply, where he [Jones] emphasizes the charge that Baptists are intransigent in their refusal to fully commune with other believers:

    "It seems to me that there is a glorious inconsistency involved here in Baptist closed communion practice. But they want to have their cake and eat it. They want us to know they have a catholic spirit, but they still would not allow Christians at the table in their local church. I can be part of the universal church, as one closed communion Baptist told me, but I cannot be part of his local church. If we affirm the former we should affirm the latter. If we deny the former, then I am in precarious position, aren't I?"
  2. In reply, Frank Turk launched a four-part response (by which he actually means a five-part response), beginning with the nature of what it means to be a Christian. A true believer, Turk notes by citing the WCF, begins with faith rooted in grace that leads to action.

    In the second part, Turk outlines the doctrine of baptism from a Baptist perspective, emphasizing that our obedience is only obedience when it is driven by truly saving faith, not the mere potential for truly saving faith that pious parents hope their child might have someday, nor vicarious faith from someone else counting for you--not even the faith of your parents [presumably other than that of Christ, by whose substitution all who are true believers are saved].

    Turk by and large admits that much of Baptist doctrine is in line with Presbyterian doctrine--it is a corporate act of faithfulness, it is a Scriptural command, etc. At the risk of over-citing, this is the key passage, trimmed down a bit for length (the first paragraph of which I'll confess I had to read a few times to really understand):

    "That relationship is the one which Dr. Jones' essay misses broadly as it considers why some of us Baptists are closed-table at the supper - because surely when Dr. Jones accuses Baptists of denying the Christianity of Presbyterians he isn't denying that one's baptism ought to come before one participates with the body of Christ and in the body of Christ at the Lord's table.  Of course not - what he is saying is that because baptism makes one a Christian, denying that one is baptized (by drizzling, before personal faith) denies that one is a Christian.  He isn't denying the logic that only the baptized ought to participate in the Lord's supper; he's questioning the meaning of denying the baptism of those baptized as Presbyterians are inclined to do -- which is to say, to baptize infants.
    This is why the question of what makes one a Christian had to be addressed first.  In the Presbyterian view, what makes one a Christian is the sign and seal of Baptism.  It puts one inside the covenant in some way which may or may not be finally determinative...
    But let's be honest: Jesus didn't put it that way.  Jesus' mentioning of baptism comes at the end of all his other statements about the life of obedience, and at the beginning of the great mission of the church.  When the Apostles went out , they didn't first baptize anyone and then preach to them repentance until it made sense to them.  The message of the Gospel comes in the NT first by the preaching of repentance, then by the washing of the water for the sake of a clean conscience.  What is true under the new covenant is what was actually true under the old covenant: the right offering to God is a broken spirit and a contrite heart; God does not desire sacrifices but obedience; he desires that we love Him more than we commit to duties and rituals.  That doesn't eliminate the rituals by any means, but it does put the rituals in a place subordinate to the truth which they are communicating.
    And that, frankly, is the actual Baptist objection to Presbyterian baptism - not that one does not have right faith now, but that one has somehow allowed that the ritual means anything prior to the real condition of the one practicing the ritual.  We may be guilty of waving off the baptism of babies as "sprinkling," but the meaning there is not that there's not enough water added: it is that somehow adding water takes the place of the faith the water ought to represent."

  3. At this point, Mark Jones backed out, pleading (quite reasonably) a busy schedule, and then stepped back in with the challenge "I dare you Baptists to say that to my face!" [I'm not currently a Baptist, but I'll accept if the good Dr. Jones is willing to pay my plane fare...]  In the meanwhile, three other baby baptizers gave an irenic defense of their practice, spending most of their time highlighting places Reformed Baptist and the "truly Reformed" agree--namely, that in the normal course of events a baptism should be a solemn church ceremony, not a circus and not a private affair in the bathtub at home. They then said that they're not going to give a full-on defense of the practice (though Todd Pruitt provides a smattering of resources on the subject from both sides here), but they suggested that the way Baptists treat their children and the common practice of baby-dedication suggest that functionally Baptists really do hold their children in a separate category from worldly children.

  4. Frank Turk replied by putting his rapid-fire posting on hold, and then pointed out that all three of the MOS hosts had been converted as Baptists, and only afterwards taken that baby step towards Rome (my uncharitable words, not his). Each of the hosts fired back, albeit briefly.

  5. Ending the hiatus, (which lasted something like a day, maybe two if we're being generous)
    Frank Turk followed up with an explanation of why Baptists do not let the unbaptized [sic] partake of communion--basically for the same reason Presbyterians generally do not allow unbelievers (baptized or not) to take communion. Why? Because they do not meet the standard of "worthiness" set by Scripture and explained by the WCF.

    "The way in which you are "unworthy" then is (as I assume you read into the previous post) that your have no baptism at all - that is, because faith comes before good works, and you did not have faith when you were baptized, it was as effective as baptizing a dead body - you wouldn't call that a baptism, would you?  What about baptizing your wife for the sake of your mother-in-law?  Or baptizing the next fellow you find at the Starbucks or Whole Foods?
    My biggest concern here, since Dr. Jones brought it up, is that you were never rightly added to the church, and you were never rightly obedient in faith in the first step, so jumping ahead to the second step is fairly pointless - because you are, if I may be bold enough to say it as the WCF says it, unworthy."

    In part four, Turk responds to potential (actual?) objections that might be raised to his position.

    And in part five, Turk discusses practical application and the original charge of lack of catholicity:
    "The cry for universal unity has some sort of intellectual and theological appeal, I am sure.  But that unity is only obtained in Christ, under Christ, in the final account of things.  Until then, Christ's way for bringing believers together is not at ecumenical pot-luck dinners where nobody knows anybody but everyone claims to have all this unquestionable and unqualified love for everyone else.  Christ's way is at a local church -- and at that church, if you are a paedobaptist, I pray your elders are also.  If they are not, You read the NT and do what's right."

  6. Mark Jones has in turn replied with a two-part piece on why he pours, and why he does it to infants. Jones notes that the Bible does not go into detail about exactly how to baptize, so why not sprinkle? Okay, he's not quite that glib, but he does rightly note that the Bible does not give a how-to-baptize guide. He further correctly notes that there are moments where sprinkling is clearly the means of sacramental setting-apart. He also is right when he says that true baptism is the baptism by the Holy Spirit, not the thing that we (whether Baptist or Presbyterian) do with water, and that the heart of baptism is "the idea of incorporation. The Israelites were incorporated (baptized) into Moses; we are incorporated (baptized) into Christ (1 Cor. 12:13) by the washing of regeneration (Tit. 3:5)." He further rightly points out that we commit an exegetical fallacy if our primary support for immersion is the word baptizo.

    With that said, why sprinkling/pouring rather than immersion? Because:
    First: this is how the Bible often speaks of the Holy Spirit:

    "The Spirit is spoken of frequently in terms of sprinkling/pouring: (Isa. 32:15; 44:3; 52:15; Ezek. 36:25; 39:29; Joel 2:28-29; Zech. 12:10; Acts 2:33; 10:44-45). The words, "You will be baptized with the Holy Spirit" (Acts 1:5; Matt. 3:11) reflect the pouring of the Spirit (ekcheƍ, Acts 2:17, 33; cf. Rom. 5:5)."

    Second, this kind of baptism better symbolizes what Christ does when He pours the Spirit out on us.

    And one last point:

    "Finally, if Paul meant immersion by using "baptized," then he did a very good job to confuse his readers. 1 Corinthians 10:2 refutes the contention that baptizo always means immersion, unless the cloud can immerse. Of course, the Egyptians were immersed; and while Noah and his family were sprinkled the ungodly were immersed, too."

    As for why he does this to infants, he first gives the basic Presbyterian view of the nature of the sign of baptism: "Baptism is not a sign of my child's faith. Rather, baptism is a sign that my child must look to, and embrace by faith." Just as Abraham's and Isaac's circumcision was not the cause of their faith, but was rather a sign that they were to look to in faith, so baptism fills that role now in the life of the believer.
    But, the baptism of infants is not just a sign, in it "God takes the initiative with our children. He speaks favor to them in baptism ("You are my child, whom I love") and they are to respond in faith to his "wooing."" There is a special sort of grace that comes along with baptism by which the children of believers receive a blessing. And Jones thinks that's good news, because "if my children are not covenant children - if they must not to be baptized as babies - then I am at a loss on how to raise them." Later, he says that without the assumption of some sort of faith on their part, he has no grounds for teaching them about God's moral commands.

    "When my twin boys (4 yrs old) sin against each other and need to ask for forgiveness, do I have grounds to say
    "Matthew, since God has forgiven you, should you not forgive your brother?" (Eph. 4:32)
    Or should I simply say, "Forgive, because it is the right thing to do"? (No indicative; a sort of "natural law" argument)."

    He then asks how can we pray with our children instead of for/at our children if they do not have the right to approach God? There must be something that happens--and it happens when they are baptized--that gives them some right to approach the throne of grace.

    Jones concludes with:

    "How can you assure a child of forgiveness but deny to them the sign that symbolizes forgiveness?
    So why do I baptize covenant children?
    Because I treat them like Christians, not like pagans. Paedobaptism allows me to do that consistently, urging them to a life of repentance and faith. And because God says to my child, "You are my child, whom I love.""

  7. Finally, Jones responds to Denny Burk by noting (rightly) that we do not need a proof-text for absolutely every single thing we do and practice, including that of baptism.

  8. In an earlier piece, Jones identified the sorts of people who might respond to these posts. I identify myself as a layman, scholar (sort-of, and not in this field), and troll. Do with that information what you will.
And I realize that this blog post is already lengthy beyond the bounds of propriety, and I have yet to get to my expressed opinions (though no doubt they are clear from the nature of the summary above). If you're still reading, many thanks! If all you cared about way the summary of the Ref21 debate, now is your time to bow out because from here on it's all mostly me.

Communion: An Irenic View

One thing that I've noticed is that some of the terms concerning communion tend to get a little jumbled. Some people talk about "closed" communion, when others would use the word "close." "Open" communion can mean, well, lots of things. So just for the purposes of this post (I am by no means trying to ex cathedra impose my definitions on Christendom), I'll give a quick overview of the spectrum:
  • Closed Communion: In which only members of the local congregation in good standing are allowed to take part.
  • Close Communion: In which only believers who have been baptized as believers and who are members in good standing at a Gospel-preaching church are allowed to take part.
  • Semi-Close Communion: In which believers who have been baptized (infant or believer's) and are members in good standing at a Gospel-preaching church are allowed to take part. 
  • Semi-Open Communion: In which believers who are members in good standing--baptized or not--at a Gospel-preaching church are allowed to take part.
  • Open Communion: In which anyone who can honestly profess faith in the Gospel--regardless of church membership and baptism status--are allowed to take part.
  • False Communion: In which anyone who wants to is allowed to take communion. Because we wouldn't want to make anyone feel bad by excluding them, would we? 
For whatever it's worth (and I suspect that by the time I'm done, I suspect it won't be worth much to anyone) I am quite happy to oblige the original point raised by Mark Jones-- that the practice of closed (or even "close" communion) is probably suspect. Left to my own devices, I would probably come down on the semi-open view of communion, with a very soft spot for and inclination towards the open view.
But! As a Christian, I don't believe we should ever be left to our own devices. And so because the general consensus of all parties involved seems to be that baptism is a prerequisite for communion (even if we disagree as to what baptism is), I'm going to settle for semi-close communion and hope that will satisfy Baptist and Infant Baptist alike.

Specifically, I believe that it is the responsibility of the church administering communion to warn the participants of the conditions and requirements which they ought to meet individually before joining the church body in declaring "the Lord's death until He comes." With that said, because the discussion in question concerns a guest, my inclination is that the hosting church ought to respect the membership rules of the visitor's home church (assuming that basic agreement on the Gospel is present). I'm not inflexible on this and could be argued into another position, but that seems to be one that allows for maximum participation on the part of true believers while still enabling the church administering the Lord's Supper to protect the table appropriately.

Before moving on, another point where I suspect all involved--certainly in the context of Reformation21-will agree: both baptism and the Lord's Supper are sacraments/ordinances/commands/call-them-what-you-will worthy of the highest respect and obedience on the part of the individual Christian and church alike. These are not things to be done in bathtubs, at concerts, or with clowns.

Also, Baptists need to get over themselves, realize that Prohibition ended in 1933, and use wine in communion.

Baptism: The Irenic Part

All things being equal, I tend to prefer immersion as the form of baptism. Like Dr. Jones points out, the Bible gives no explicit guidance on the subject, but immersion does seem to be more in the "spirit" (ha ha) of what's being symbolized in our baptism--though I do admit that "sprinkling" (or pouring, for that matter) looks more like some of the Old Testament rituals. Nevertheless, immersion is the oldest Christian practice and the one that best symbolizes the new life we have in Christ--the life which covers all of us, not just the tops of our heads.
If you want the evidence that immersion was the practice of the early church (and don't want to be hassled with the Calvin quote on the subject: Institutes IV.15.19), the work to read is the Didache, which dates from the 1st century and which states (from section 3):
Now about baptism, baptize this way: after first uttering all of these things, baptize "into the name of the Father and of the son and of the holy Spirit" in running water. But if you do not have running water, baptize in other water. Now if you are not able to do so in cold water, do it in warm water. Now if you don't have either, pour water three times on the head, "into the name of the Father, and of the son, and of the holy Spirit." 
Notice that pouring is allowed, but only if there is not enough water to do it the other way--namely, by immersion. Of course, we don't follow the Didache word for word, since the rest of the chapter says:
Now before the ritual cleansing, the baptizer and the one being baptized should fast, and any others who are able. Now you will give word for the one who is being baptized to fast for one or two days beforehand.
How many of us expect the pastor and the believer to go two days without eating? Well, the early church apparently did...

The point is, this is a time-honored practice that has been the as long as we have a record of it. For example, here's the baptistery where Ambrose baptized Augustine:

Either this is massive sprinkling overkill, or Augustine was dunked.
If I remember correctly (and I believe Philip Schaff talks about this, though I don't remember in which volume), the alternative methods of baptism don't start to dominate until all those Northern Europeans begin to convert. Immersion in the Mediterranean basin is one thing, immersion in Scandinavia, Russia, and Scotland is something entirely different.

With that said, if someone was legitimately baptized as a believer by pouring or sprinkling, well, close enough. Ideally this would only be done under exceptional conditions (persecution, Siberia, Sahara, etc), but if a church adopts the practice instead of immersion just because, that's not a hill I'm willing to die on.

And of course on a practical level, we should be honest and admit that if you're baptizing infants immersion probably isn't an option. On that note, here's another bit of irenicism: the Mortification of Spin folks are right! Baby dedications probably need to go. I suppose they have some value as a reminder to the congregation of our obligation to proselytize the next generation, but clearly they confuse our Presbyterian brothers and sisters. More seriously, there's no Biblical warrant for this particular ceremony of the church, and we don't want to give the impression that we believe something false about the state of the unregenerate.

I've got one final bit of peace-making, though it may only be peacemaking in that I will be in the minority against both credo- and paedo-baptists: I tend to think that baptism should be at all times a solemn and dignified action performed regularly by church leadership, and that this ceremony should be as impersonal as possible in its application. I don't mean there shouldn't be any touchy-feely moments (there should be, especially if there's a sharing of the person's testimony before hand). I mean that the person administering the baptism should not be a parent or BFF of the person being baptized. We as a church should want to emphasize that in this we are being faithful to Scripture and picturing the Gospel, not enhancing already-existing personal relationships. If at some point down the road we're going to be tempted to add meaning to the ceremony because "I was baptized by my father/the guy who led me to Christ/super-holy-evangelical-all-star pastor", someone else should probably perform the baptism. There may be times when this is unavoidable (especially in smaller churches), but we should want to keep the focus on Christ and not on the person doing the dunking. Or pouring, or sprinkling or whatever. Like I said, I suspect that puts me into a minority of one, but I'm okay with that.

Baptism: The Divisive Part

First, Jones writes "God takes the initiative with our children. He speaks favor to them in baptism ("You are my child, whom I love") and they are to respond in faith to his "wooing.""
If this is a true statement, then why on earth aren't we dragging people off the street and baptizing them by force? If baptism is a means by which God takes initiative, then we sin when we fail to include that as a part of our regular Evangelistic efforts. Who are we to withhold a legitimate means of God's "wooing"?
If the answer is that we can do this to the infants of believers because of the status of the believing parents, I'm happy to narrow the focus and repeat the question. If an elderly couple converts to Christianity and joins a church that practices infant baptism with this belief in mind, is there any reason their unbelieving children could not be baptized as a part of the evangelistic efforts of their parents? We don't even need to add force in, let's assuming said children are willing to be baptized out of love for their parents--do we have Biblical warrant for this?

Second, in response to the idea that in practice Baptists raise their children above the status of "regular" children in the world, on hearing this said on Mortification of Spin my wife and I immediately agreed that this is nonsense. Our child is a reprobate until he isn't--if God pleases that he not be. We pray fervently that God will so please, but we also realize that whatever our obligations as Christians and as parents, in any meaningful ultimate sense the future state of our child's salvation has nothing to do with us and everything to do with Christ. (For more of my thoughts on this idea in general, see this review).

As for how we can pray with our children instead of for or at them: the same way we can "with" any non-believer. I will pray with my son (when he is old enough to understand, at any rate) with the full comprehension that until he becomes a believer, from his perspective these prayers are at best informational, and at worst ritualistic drudgery. And, God forbid, if he never becomes a believer, then he will be held that much more accountable for his persistent refusal to believe the Gospel. (That of course isn't something I particularly enjoy thinking about, but then again reprobation is never a terribly fun topic.)

The question here for those who hold that the children of believers receive some kind of extra grace is: what kind of grace do they? Presumably they're not arguing that it is the grace we experience in sanctification, since that is only available to believers. And presumably it's not the grace we receive in our justification, since if that were the case the children of believers would certainly be believers, and we all know that neither is that the reality nor is that ever promised by God. And if said children (God forbid!) never receive the first two sorts of grace, they likewise will never receive the grace we will experience someday in glorification. And so far as I know (and please do correct me if I'm wrong on this, I'm not an expert in this particular field) the only other category of "grace" in Reformed thought is "common grace." It may be that the children of believers receive a greater share of this, I don't know that I'd want to argue that point either way, but is Mark Jones seriously going to argue that the church should baptize those who have an extra dose of common grace?
(Of course there's always the idea of prevenient grace, but there's no need to get nasty and start name-calling.)

Finally, baptism is a means by which God grants assurance, no doubt! But is it a means different from other forms of Christian obedience? When we love our neighbor, we should be assured. When we confess Christ, we should be assured. Why does this pattern not hold when we talk about baptism?
(If we say that it is because it's a sacrament, then why should we treat it as a sacrament with a different spirit from that of the Lord' Supper?)
As I understand it, the general Reformed position involves admitting that prior to regeneration such "works" are not only not signs of faith, but the participation of unbelievers in them increases condemnation because the truth is coming out of their mouths while their hearts still rebel against the Lord. How is the same not true of the obedient action of baptism--just as presumably we all agree it is concerning communion?

With all that said, at the end of the day I don't know how conducive this discussion format is to changing anyone's mind. I suspect that the problem is not one of comprehension on either side of the argument (clearly Frank Turk understands Mark Jones, and clearly Mark Jones understands Frank Turk--I may be the odd man out here!). Instead it looks to be a question of biblical theology and interpretation--how are we to be faithful to the command to "make disciples of all nations and baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit"? Should we incorporate something of the Old Testament ceremonies into this, as Jesus and the New Testament writers clearly do at times? And if we do, should that incorporation include baptizing children, just as the children in the Old Testament were at times circumcised? Or, should we put that set of Old Testament guidelines into the same category as those others which are now complete in Christ, as Jesus and the New Testament writers also clearly do at times? As a result, should we then treat baptism as something new and the administration of the ceremonies and rituals of the church (both of them) as a point of discontinuity between the testaments?

And I suppose the question lurking in back of all this "baptism" stuff is this: do we genuinely see any Biblical basis for ever baptizing an unbeliever? Presumably we all agree this is so concerning communion, church discipline, and church membership. Unbelievers should have no access to the Lord's Table, do not fall under the church's disciplinary authority, and should not be voting/participating in the formal administrative life of the church (apologies to Solomon Stoddard)--why does baptism get a pass?

Of course this debate isn't going to be solved by the blogosphere--if the great minds of the past haven't worked it out, I highly doubt any of us will (though I willingly admit Frank Turk and Mark Jones both have more chance of doing so that I do).

Friday, October 10, 2014

"City of God" XX.7

Chapter 7:
We also see the final judgment in the book of Revelation. Unfortunately, some ridiculous folks have twisted this into some kind of weird millenialism, and we need to set them straight. We need to understand that this book is for us now--only the final judgment remains. Until then, it is true both that Jesus reigns over the nations and that the nations are led astray by Satan.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

"City of God" XX.5-6

Chapter 5-6:
So we see Jesus in the Gospels being quite clear that there will be a resurrection and final judgment for all mankind.
Technically, the New Testament speaks of two resurrections: the first is for believers who are dead in sins and brought to life by the Holy Spirit:
Thus all, without one exception, were dead in sins, whether original or voluntary sins, sins of ignorance, or sins committed against knowledge; and for all the dead there died the one only person who lived, that is, who had no sin whatever, in order that they who live by the remission of their sins should live, not to themselves, but to Him who died for all, for our sins, and rose again for our justification, that we, believing in Him who justifies the ungodly, and being justified from ungodliness or quickened from death, may be able to attain to the first resurrection which now is.  For in this first resurrection none have a part save those who shall be eternally blessed; but in the second, of which He goes on to speak, all, as we shall learn, have a part, both the blessed and the wretched.  The one is the resurrection of mercy, the other of judgment. 
The second resurrection, then, is for everyone whereas the first is for believers alone. This is tied to the idea that there are two regenerations, the first which happens when we come to faith and baptism (Augustine shows an early version of the view that baptism causes regeneration, but could be read charitably to assume that it just attends regeneration, unlike his later followers who dig themselves into greater error) and the second which happens when we are raised from the dead and given perfected bodies.

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

"City of God" XX.3-4

Chapter 3:
Ecclesiastes is the great book that both explains the world as it actually is (full of "vanities") and points us to the right way to live--in fear of God anticipating the coming judgment.

Chapter 4:
Augustine is going to make his case from Scripture, both Old and New Testaments. But, he's going to start with and give preference to the New Testament, because it is that which is pointed to by the Old. So in a sense he is going to teach New Testament doctrines using proofs and supports from the Old Testament, which is what the authors of the New Testament themselves do.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

"City of God" XX.1-2

Chapter 1:
This book will discuss the final judgement as explained and revealed in Scripture. Scripture of course that all rational men will admit is divinely inspired, unless they are blinded by sin and stubbornness.
God's judgment is a complex idea in Scripture, beginning in the Garden of Eden and stretching down through the present day and forward to the Final Judgment at the end of time. God judges both groups of people and individuals, as well as both angels and human beings. What's more, when God says He will judge on a given day, that can be Scripturally tricky, since "day" does not always mean "24 hours" in the Bible, but can sometimes mean "stretch of time" or "period of time." What Augustine is going to write about in this book, however, is only the last judgement:
When Christ will come from heaven to judge the living and the dead. This will be a day of judgment in the precise sense that there will be no place for any uncomprehending complaint that this sinner has been blessed or that that good man has been punished. On that day, we shall see plainly the true fullness of felicity of all the saints and only of the saints, as we shall see the supreme and deserved misery of the wicked and the wicked alone.
Chapter 2:
When we look at this world, we see an incomprehensible jumble of good and bad people and rewards and punishment. That is, the guilty are set free, the innocent punished, the wicked get rich and the virtuous fall into poverty--sometimes. Sometimes we do see things work out the way justice suggests that they should, but many times we do not. What we must learn is that we cannot know what God is doing simply by looking at the world as it is (and so "it is... good for our souls to learn to attach no importance to the good or ill fortune which we see visited without distinction upon the good and the bad").
All of this changes at the last judgment. There, the wicked and the righteous will be separated and the true nature of God's character will shine forth as He straightens out the world and sets things to rights.

Monday, October 6, 2014

"City of God" XIX.24-28

Chapter 24:
Of course, there are other ways to define a "commonwealth" or a "people." We could use the definition "a multitude of reasonable beings voluntarily associated in the pursuit of common interests." Under that definition, we'd have to examine those interests in order to judge them, but this is still at least in some sense a "people," who will be "better or worse.. as the interests which have brought them together are better or worse interests." The problem of course (at least as far as Rome is concerned) is that these "interests" have always been awful--violence, lust for power, civil war, and so on. And yet, the fact that they have wicked interests under this definition at least means that they are some kind of "commonwealth."
The same may be said of any other nation, but what we will consistently find is that all of them, "any civil community made up of pagans who are disobedient to God's command," are lacking in justice however unified they may be around their own goals.

Chapter 25:
Even when they appear to have some kind of virtue in the pagan state, "even when soul and reason do not serve God as He demands." Yet this is a false sham of virtue--indeed it is a vice. This is because these "virtues" are actually defined and shaped by pride rather than by God.

Chapter 26:
In the same way, whatever 'peace' this pagan state has isn't true 'peace'--thought it is also 'not to be scorned.' In fact, "it is to our advantage that there be such peace in this life. For as long as the two cities are mingled together, we can make use of the peace of Babylon. Faith can assure our exodus from Babylon, but our pilgrim status, for the time being, makes us neighbors."
While we are not dedicated to the state in the same way as the nonbelievers, we can enjoy and celebrate the good things that we share together in it as human beings.

Chapter 27:
Still, we pursue our own peace--"namely, peace with God in this world by faith and in the world to come by vision." What we enjoy here is a sort-of negative peace, that is, the absence of conflict. In heaven, we will enjoy a positive peace, that is, an active joy. "Even our virtue in this life, genuine as it is because it is referred to the true goal of every good, lies more in the pardoning of sins than in any perfection of virtues." We see this even in the Lord's prayer, where we are to "forgive our debtors," which is a negative action (for us, not for God of course).
The Lord's prayer is critical, because strength to obey and be virtuous is simply not in us. "Reason may give commands, but can exercise no control without a struggle." And while we struggle, we always sin in every action and thought:
And, in this time of weakness, something will inevitably creep in to make the best of soldiers--whether in victory or still in battle with such foes--offend by some small slip of the tongue, some passing thought, if not by habitual actions.... Who, then, save a proud man, will presume that he can live without needing to ask God: "Forgive us our debts?"
In this life our war against sin is never truly won, and is never won by our own strength:
This, then, in this world, is the life of virtue. When God commands, man obeys; when the soul commands, the body obeys; when reason rules, our passions, even when they fight back, must be conquered or resisted; man must beg God's grace to win merit and the remission of his sins and must thank God for the blessings he receives.
In heaven, however, we will
have no vices and experience no rebellion from within or without. There will be no need for reason to govern non-existent evil inclinations . God will hold sway over man, the soul over the body; and the happiness in eternal life and law will make obedience sweet and easy... That is why the peace of such blessedness or the blessedness of such peace is to be our supreme good.
Chapter 28:
The city of man, however, has doom waiting for it. "And what will make that second death so hard to bear is that there will be no death to end it." This is why (among other reasons) hell is so awful: it is war with no possibility of peace; punishment without remission; and pain without healing. And it is to this separation between the two cities--one to peace and one to punishment, that Augustine will turn next.

Saturday, October 4, 2014

"Christianity and Classical Culture" by Charles Norris Cochrane

Here are links to my chapter-by-chapter notes outlining this critical book. But please don't stick with the notes, pick up a copy of Cochrane's Christianity and Classical Culture for yourself--it is definitely worth both your money and time.

Preface: The goal of the book briefly stated.

Part I: Reconstruction
I. Pax Augusta: The Restored Republic: Explores the nature of the "eternal" state Augustus believed himself to have set up.
II. Romanitas: Empire and Commonwealth: Walks through the virtues and philosophical foundations for the Roman Empire, and their claims to be the final establishment of a political order.
III. Roma Aeterna: The Apotheosis of Power: Rome in this scheme becomes the real-world establishment of the sought-after transcendent Platonic ideal. All mankind may now live the happy and moral life.
IV. Regnum Caesaris Regnum Diaboli: This "Golden Age" quickly (immediately?) becomes a totalitarian dictatorship, embodying not the highest good but the worst aspects of human nature, only occasionally offset by glimpses of nobility.

Part II: Renovation
V. The New Republic: Constantine and the Triumph of the Cross: Constantine temporarily restored the old order, and tried to tap into the energy and spirit of Christianity as a new source of strength for the tottering Empire. This meant toleration for Christians, which further meant Christians had to re-think their political views.
VI. Quid Athenae Hierosolymis? The Impasse of Constantianism: Christians have to reevaluate how they and their beliefs relate to the pagan and secular foundations and goals of the Empire.
VII. Apostasy and Reaction: The pagan reaction against this intrusion of Christianity was passionate, but physically weak, and really just showed that paganism had run its course.
VIII. State and Church in the New Republic: Even as barbarians start to pour into the Empire, the Emperors attempt to uphold the old order by using Christian energy and enthusiasm as a source of power.
IX. Theodosius and the Religion of the State: Finally, Theodosius simply adopts Christianity as the official foundation of the Empire, and in doing so puts new wine into old wineskins and breaks the latter (the effect on the former is not Cochrane's concern here).

Part III: Regeneration
X. The Church and the Kingdom of God: But why didn't Christianity save Rome? Cochrane begins a contrast between Classical reason-based thought and the doctrines of Christianity, which include a view of personality and epistemology that are utterly incompatible with the Classical worldview.
XI. Nostra Philosophia: The Discovery of Personality: Augustine's view of man and personality as fundamentally affectionate and willing becomes the primary point of contrast between the two worldviews.
XII. Divine Necessity and Human History: History itself must be reexamined, and the sovereignty of God and the new view of human nature appropriately accounted for.

"City of God" XIX.23

Chapter 23:
The pagan (Neoplatonist) philosopher Porphyry argues that, based on an Oracle from Apollo, the Jews worship the true God, while the Christians violate that by worshiping Jesus as God instead--though Porphyry admits that Jesus was at least a good and virtuous man (even if he "deserved" what he got at the hand of the Jews).
According to Augustine, the sinister goal here (whether Porphyry actually knows it or is simply buying into demonic claims) is to gain our attention by praising Christ, and then lead us aside from "that road to eternal salvation upon which one who becomes a Christian enters."
Whether one is arguing that "Christ was a criminal, executed by right-thinking judges;," or that "he was a sincerely pious man--but merely a man", the result is the same.
Either way, these arguments contradict each other (despite both at least nominally coming from pagan gods) and are internally inconsistent. For example, how could Jesus have been a "good man" if he led so many people astray when he lied about being God?
But we don't even need to go this far, we can simply compare the wicked worship and practice of the pagans with the virtuous worship and actions of the Christians to see that the latter is the true and right path. The we learn from the consistent and holy Word of God, the Scripture, wherein those who sacrifice to false gods will be put to death. Christians, on the other hand, "who form His City, are His best and most worthy sacrifice."

In sum, the only true "commonwealth" is the one wherein God is worshiped and obeyed, where the citizens "live by that faith of the just which works through that charity which loves God as He should be loved and one's neighbor as oneself." Where this does not exist there can be no true commonwealth and no true working for the common good.

Friday, October 3, 2014

"Christianity and Classical Culture" III.XII

Part III: Regeneration

XII. Divine Necessity and Human History 

Once "personality" is discovered, that functionally means we have the discovery of history (456), though Christians (and Augustine) limit the focus of history to the person of Christ. In history as well, Christianity and Classicism therefore clearly split.

Herodotus is of course the father of history, but he appealed to philosophy by embracing a) fact; b) value; and c) causation (457-458)--indeed he held an entire cosmology and system of life in which he seeks the beginning of all things. (458) He searches for the logos, the beginning, envisioned by Heraclitus. (458-459) This does not mean the anthropomorphic gods of heaven, but the source of wisdom, justice, matter, and being--the source of the flux, which itself is a harmony of conflict. (459-460) Thus for Herodotus, 1) the "cosmos is spatial;" 2) it is also temporal; and 3) it is "material." Balance and compensation govern the universe. (460-461) These cosmic physical laws govern mankind (461-462), and history is the explanation of "human behavior" according to these laws.

Specifically, these laws are the laws of desire, happiness, and appropriate limits. (462) But if these govern all, how can we be free, or even have independent consciousness? (462-463) Moreover, how do they connect with the actual events of history? (463-464) We see the link in the "ups and downs" of history, both mythic and "modern." (464-465) In the story of Croesus, all these things are brought together. (465-466) Desire becomes the moving force in history (466-467), working through the "conflict of opposites." (467) Yet, there is no further ethic. Herodotus is a scientist first and foremost. (467-468) The cosmos is mere matter and motion, and all human attempts at happiness must ultimately fail. (468)

Later Classical histories were attempts to escape Herodotus' conclusions, especially his pessimism. (469) To this end, Thucydides, for example, pursues only man in his specific circumstances. (469-470) Galen follows in his steps (470-471), while adding in a belief in man's organic growth (471) and the quest for uniforms patterns of human nature (471-472)--patterns which Thucydides had found in politics. (472) Society thus became a quest for happiness. (472-473) This becomes terror when adversity removes restraint. (473-474) And yet, out of this chaos, change occurred and history advanced. In the hands of Polybius this becomes "fortune," and under the Empire it became associated with the Caesars. (474)

For Christians, the failure of Classical history was the failure to realize "the true curse of human being and motivation." (474-475) Instead, Christians appealed to the Bible as true history, especially against Marcion and the Manichees. (475)

Augustine further developed a hermeneutic that navigated between literalism and allegory (475-476), drawing largely on grammar, but mostly guided by the Spirit. (476) The Spirit-filled reading of Scripture is not about establishing dates and times, but rather is about living a Godly life. (476-477) Value becomes the point of history, and wisdom (sapientia) is the guide. (477-478)

Thus, pagan ideas of history as art, science, or fortune are all set aside. (478-479) The Logos becomes instead the center of the philosophy of history. (480) History therefore is the history of personality, and yet neither anthropomorphic nor anthrocentric. (480-481) The Christian is merely the interpreter, not the definer, of history and nature. (481)

But what about the "problem" of predestination? Augustine is happy to leave it in tension. (481-482) A Trinitarian view of history results in certain guidelines for "time, space, and matter, the elements, so to speak, of all mutable natures." (482) The Classical world had explained progress cyclically, which, as Augustine suggested, reveals a limitation in the human imagination (483), and denies the possibility of salvation. (483-484) Time, rather, is linear and teleological. (484-485) This allows us to be both body and soul (485-486), both of which desire happiness. The goal of a rational being is peaceful order, which requires 1) an accurate understanding of the world and 2) a proper ordering of values. (486-487) Both of these are, for mankind, moral issues. (487) These are moreover universal and unite mankind through the Logos far more deeply than the Stoics ever dreamed of (487-488), though this principles also divides us from each other. (488)

This combination of unity and division defines the two cities (488-489), which are united and divided in their desires. (489-490) The city of man desires material order and the peace of the household, marriage, and city (490), as well as empire. The problem of the city of man is that that it has material wealth, but rather in how it desires material wealth. (491-492) This becomes a dog-eat-dog world, where the best safety is tenuous. (492-493) The polis is "the greatest and most shameless of heresies." (493) Thus, we should not trust worldly systems, but rather realize the deficiencies of the secular order. (494-495) The rise of Empire only brought these deficiencies to man on a grander scale. (495-496)

In all this worldly failure, we see God's hand teaching us about Himself. (496) The same was true of false political and economic unity, as well as of religious pluralism. Turning these things into virtues merely hastened the collapse of the whole system. (497-498) Even poetry and literature as a source of energy and unity is deficient. (498-499) Religion as a means of controlling the people also fails, as do its poet proponents. (499-500)

The Classical world has misjudged "the true source of power," assuming it to be man, and so all things collapse. For the Christian, "all power [is] from on high," and the lust for power must be overcome by "justification by faith." (500-501) The individual is not a cosmic speck, but a living spirit which may convert. (501-502) Grace in conversion into a relationship becomes the unity and focus of the Christian (503), and grace meets our need for illumination and fulfillment.

But what is grace? Only metaphors can be used (504), though the operation of salvation may be described: conviction, forgiveness, belief, victory (504-505), but before victory (in heaven) there is lifelong struggle, which requires yet more grace. (505-506) The result of this is peace and order and wisdom. (506)

And so Christians alone see the Truth, while the Classical system remained a human imposition on the world. (506-507) The attempt to use reason isolated from personality was a failure, or monstrous. (507-508) Likewise ethics in the Classical system failed, as they could not encapsulate the whole man. (507-508) And both materialism and idealism are refuted as well. (508-509)

This transformation did not destroy the state, just its ultimate claims. (509) The state serves a function, it is just that said function is a limited and temporary one. (509-510) This does not lead Augustine to withdrawal or to secession, but rather to "a fresh integration of human life," and a new worldview based on the true Good. (510-511) This fresh vision creates fresh unity based on faith and the will that transcends national boundaries and ennobles the individual against totalitarian secular claims. (511-512) This spirit is loosely democratic, for 1) it transcends racial/cultural bonds; 2) the law of love is the same for all; 3) it recognizes the sinfulness of all men. (512)

Human history is conflict, but a conflict of sinners struggling to recover the lost Good. (513-514) This struggle will end only in the millennium (514-515), and the triumph of those who have found peace, order, and forgiveness over those who persist in maintaining the Classical delusions. (515-516)

"City of God" XIX.20-22

Chapter 20:
Meanwhile, and always, the supreme good of the City of God is everlasting and perfect peace and not merely a continuing peace which individually mortal men enter upon and leave by birth and death, but one in which individuals immortally abide, no longer subject to any species of adversity.
Yet, this is not to say that there is no happiness in this life. Those who keep there eyes on the City of God and use the goods of this world to Its glorious end can be said to be happy as well, "though more in hope than in present happiness." However, the idea of being truly happy apart from having tied that happiness to the City of God is "an illusory happiness and, in fact, a great wretchedness, since it makes no use of the true goods of the soul." Just as "no wisdom is true wisdom unless it [along with prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice]... is directed to that goal in which God is to be all in all in secure everlastingness and flawless peace." There is no true happiness any more than there is any true virtue outside of God.

Chapter 21:
If we accept Cicero's definition of a "republic" that he puts in the mouth of Scipio in his book On the Republic, "there never existed any such thing as a Roman Republic."
Cicero (well, "Scipio") argues that a commonwealth is 'the weal of the people.' If this is accurate, there was never any true Republic because there was never "any true weal of the people." Specifically, this means a body of citizens working together by acknowledging each other's rights and working towards the common good. This means that justice must define the state, for "where there is not true justice, there is no recognition of rights." And of course by "rights" and "justice" we don't mean any old law that gets passed by those in power--many of those can be based on self-interest and self-advantage, rather than springing from the "fountainhead of justice."
So, where there is no justice, there is no recognition of rights, and no citizen body, and so no commonwealth. So what about Rome? Well, "Justice is the virtue which accords to each and every man what is his due." But if we rip ourselves from God and worship demons, we have hardly given ourselves our own due.
In On the Republic, Cicero (like Plato's Republic, which Cicero is largely transcribing into Latin) gives first a defense of injustice and then defends justice. The defense he gives is that God must master man, and the soul master the body. But "what fragment of justice can there be in a man who is not subject to God"? And if this man has no justice, "then there is certainly no justice... in an assembly made up of such men." And so there can be no commonwealth, where there is no justice. There can be no true justice for those who do not worship the true God, and so there can be no true commonwealth for a body of such people.

Chapter 22:
And our God is the true God to be worshiped and adored, not the pagan false gods.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

"Christianity and Classical Culture" III.XI

Part III: Regeneration

XI. Nostra Philosophia: The Discovery of Personality

In Augustine we see the Gospel as applied to the late 4th century. And we see that it 1) provides an exit from the failures of Classicism; 2) provides an alternative which claims to explain both experience and existence, as well as providing the sought-after goal of life (399-400); it even goes beyond this to worlds reason alone could never truly imagine. (400) Which is not to say that it is irrational or mere instinct, but rather that faith leads to reason and provides grounds for reason outside of itself. (400-401) This reconciles Classical distinctions between a) subject and object; and b) sense and thought (401); while at the same time making reason certain. This, however, requires authority, which in turn demands faith. (401-402)

And thus we have the fundamental difference between Classicism and Christianity (402): that of reason alone vs. faith "as a condition of understanding. "Before we can follow a pure reason, we must have a a solid psychology consisting of 1) existence; 2) knowledge; and 3) will (403)--a psychology which springs from being itself. (404-405) This 'self' is a "substantial and transcendent"--albeit limited--unity. (406) These limitations show our dependence on an external Transcendent source. (406-407) Which is not to say that we have an anthropomorphic God (408), but rather that we have a God who defies categorization. (409) The only category provided--the Trinity--is itself a mystery, however rational a mystery it may be. But the Trinity itself becomes a foundation for our personality (410-411), which is a sharp breach from Classicism, and resolves the nature/man divide. This is reinforced when the Trinity is compared to the "One" of Plotinus. (411) The former reveals to Augustine, the latter blinds Plotinus. So we see that Christian faith reveals and explains, while pagan faith blinds and destroys. (412) Only Christian faith meets the demands of head and heart, intellectual and layman. (412-413) Even Plato had failed to get an answer that satisfied both body and soul. (413-414)

And so Augustine does what Tertullian did not, and provides a Christian counter to pagan philosophy. (415) He appeals to inner knowledge and faith. Not, however, to the personal knowledge of faith (415-416), but rather to that of the church.

Augustine proposes Scripture and Christ as the source of authority and knowledge. (416) Christ becomes the new foundation for physics, logic, and ethics--especially in His role as Mediator. (417) This stood against the ideology of pagan science (418-419), especially that embodied by Homer's cosmology. (419-420) But even in the Odyssey, that worldview had begun to collapse. (420-421) What the poets had failed to do, i.e. discover "a principle of understanding," (421) philosophy likewise failed to do through reason. (421-422) The attempt to find a first principle (arche) led to the need for a second principle to explain the relationship with created things, which led to the need for a third principle--that of movement. Thus one problem became three, and philosophy stumbled. (422-423) This, in turn, let to positivism, skepticism, and cynicism (423-424), as well as the rise of the mystery cults.

Into this confusion came Plato, who observed that a) all former conclusions were "mere opinion" and b) order and relation must be the proper realm of philosophy--which is where Christians disagree. (424) Plato took idealism too far, as the materialists had done with materialism. (425) The extremes of Plato were reached by Julian and Porphyry. (426)

[Neoplatonism discussed:
426-428: Cosmology;
428-429: logic;
429-430: ethics.
As the first two failed, ethics became increasingly mystical and weird.]

For Augustine, the failure of Platonism was "catastrophic" (430), and reflected the problems inherent in the system (430-431), specifically that of the subject/object relationship. From this there was no escape--neither by rising to transcendence nor by dropping into positivism. (431) Nor was skepticism a valid escape; nor the dogmatism of the mystery cults. (431-432) Instead, Christianity both called for a revaluing of the Classical world and a new view of the human psyche--a new epistemology. (432)

For Augustine, the mind is an organic whole, consisting of an interior and exterior life that is "between awareness of objects and the awareness of being aware" (433), and, unlike Plato, there's no discernment between the two. Instead, there's awareness of tri-part sense-perception involving 1) body; 2) the vision of the self; and 3) the unity of the two in passion. (433-434) The role of science is then to provide a practical guide, but only one subservient to the mind. (434)

Classical science had failed. (435) Christian wisdom, while using Platonic vocabulary, had broken out of Classical limitations and opened a way to understand the world (435-436) by giving access to the moving principles of the world (436), which in turn meant that the world could be understood (436), and understood even in turns of bodily existence. (436-437) Though the body is not the ultimate existence (437), since part (most) of bodily experience is the flux of creation. (437-438) But in this flux, we have space (438) and time (438-439), thus making creation flux and not "principium." (439)

We exist in relationship to creation. (439-440) The "law", then, reveals the limitations of man's nature and the coming of death (440), as well as spotting an order in nature, by which things act according to their inner beings. (441) This means that no "demiurge" is necessary (442), since God can work through will and motion within beings.

And so as nature moves in orderly ways, we see evidence for God's sovereignty, albeit a sovereignty of "imperium" (442-443), and thus the Classical opposition between man and nature breaks down (443), as does the Classical idea of heroism over nature. Nature is now seen as a whole, organic being. (443-444) At the height of nature was ensouled man, or the embodied soul. (443-444)

From the doctrine of the individual soul, we rise to love. (444-445) Love defines mankind. (445-446) Man is determined by his affections. (446) The rational soul may consent or withhold consent from "representations", but it does so through 1) suggestion; 2) desire; 3) reason. (446) The will, in turn, is the "uncoerced motion of the mind." (446) Human existence is ultimately summed up in the will (447), which in turn is determined by the affections. (447-448) This in turn gives us a new view of sin--as "bad love." (448)

Intellectually, "bad love" becomes self-deceit and self-justification. (448-449) Sin is a corruption of the soul, not of the body (as the Platonists would have it) (449), as well as the bondage of the will. Deliverance from sin and bondage begins with "an accurate diagnosis of the situation" (249-250)--that of a rotten heart. (450)

The answer to this problem is found in the Trinity (450), beginning with acknowledging the world as it actually is, neither fully idealized nor fully material. Then comes regenerate affections, brought about by Divine grace. (450-451)

These doctrines of sin and grace made the clearest break with Classicism. (451) Pelagius was just an attempt to restore Aristotle (451-452), bushing Classical idealism and dividing man's nature. (452) Augustine claims that virtue is love and comes by the work of the Spirit. (453) This is how natural law works, and reconciles grace and free will. (454)

Ultimately, "justification by faith" becomes the ground for understanding the world, and the basis for the "integration of personality" (454-455), as well as for freedom and peace.

"City of God" XIX.17-19

Chapter 17:
Within the home, the difference between Christians and non-Christians is not the use of the things of this world (food, shelter, etc), but rather "the respective purposes to which they put them."
The same is true of the city:
The earthly city which does not live by faith seeks only an earthly peace, and limits the goal of its peace, of its harmony of authority and obedience among its citizens, to the voluntary and collective attainment of objectives necessary to mortal existence. 
The City of God--at least that part of it "on pilgrimage in mortal life"--uses this peace not as an end in itself, but in anticipation of the time when earthly peace will no longer be necessary. As a result, the City of God can never be more than that of a "captive and an alien" due to the cross-purposes for which we use the same things as the city of man. Nevertheless, the City of God "has no hesitation about keeping in step with the civil law which governs matters pertaining to our existence here below." When it comes to the necessities of human existence, there is no reason we can't work together.

But! "Now comes the difficulty." In looking at these necessities of human life, worldly wisdom concludes that there must be a multiplicity of gods to be worshiped and that creation must determine the creator, while the City of God knows that there is but one God and that He alone is to be worshiped. So while we share material goods and goals, this does not mean that we share a "common religious legislation," and so we have "had no choice but to dissent on this score and so to become a nuisance to those who think otherwise." And so we have "had to feel the weight of their anger, hatred, and violence, save in those instances when, by sheer numbers and God's help, which never fails, she has been able to scare off her opponents."

This City of God, however, is no closed fortress.
She invites citizens from all nations and all tongues, and unites them into a single pilgrim band. She takes no issue with diversity of customs, laws, and traditions whereby human peace is sought and maintained. Instead of nullifying or tearing down, she preserves and appropriates whatever in the diversities of divers races is aimed at one and the same objective of human peace, provided only that they do not stand in the way of the faith and worship of the one supreme and true God.
So we work together with the city of man so long as we can, even as we subordinate those goals to the hope of heaven. Only there will we have perpetual peace and eternal life, which we have now by faith but will have then in communal reality.

Chapter 18:
We reject skepticism as "insanity", even as we admit our own limitations and inabilities to know the fullness of truth because of our flesh and sin. To help us through our limitations, we have faith and Scripture which guide and shape our lives and give us enough despite our doubts and ignorance.

Chapter 19:
"The City of God does not care in the least what kind of dress or social manners a man of faith affects, so long as these involve no offense against the divine law. For it is faith and not fashions that brings us to God."
So, even philosophers don't have to give up their philosopher's clothing when they become Christians, so long as they give up "their erroneous teachings." Likewise, we don't really care whether you live a life of action, contemplation, or a mixed life, since faith and stretch through each of these. Both leisure and action can be used for Godly ends by a Christian. Leisure should be used in pursuit of truth; action for good works. The example of the latter is the office of bishop, who is supposed to work rather than bask in the dignified glow of office. "Thus, no man can be a good bishop if he loves his title but not his task."
Leisure likewise is to be used correctly, i.e. in pursuit of wisdom--unless this becomes a distraction from our duty to love others, at which point we need to put the books away and get to work.