History of the Christian canon

As you probably know, Catholic Bibles have 73 books, 46 in the Old Testament, and 27 in the New Testament. Protestant Bibles have 66 books with only 39 in the Old Testament. The books missing from Protestant Bibles are: Tobit, Judith, Baruch, Wisdom, Sirach, 1 and 2 Maccabees, and parts of Esther and Daniel. They are called the ‘Deuterocanonicals’ by Catholics and ‘Apocrypha’ by Protestants.

Martin Luther, without any authority whatsoever, removed those seven books and placed them in an appendix during the reformation. They remained in the appendix of Protestant Bibles until about 1826, and then they were removed altogether.

Please be mindful of the fact that those seven books had been in Bibles used by all Christians from the very foundation of Christianity. Hellenistic Greek was the language of the day during the time of Christ. This was due to the fact that Alexander the Great had conquered the region several hundred years before. The Hebrew language was on its way out, and there was a critical need for a translation of the Hebrew Old Testament for dispersed Greek speaking Jews. This translation, called the Septuagint, or LXX, was completed by Jewish scholars in about 148 B.C. and it had all of the books, including the seven removed by Martin Luther over 1650 years later.

The New Testament has about 350 references to Old Testament verses. By careful examination, scholars have determined that 300 of these are from the Septuagint and the rest are from the Hebrew Old Testament*. They have shown that Jesus Christ Himself, quoted from the Septuagint.

Early Christians used the Septuagint to support Christian teachings. For the first 300 years of Christianity, there was no Bible as we know it today. Christians had the Old Testament Septuagint, and literally hundreds of other books from which to choose.

The Catholic Church realized early on that she had to decide which of these books were inspired and which ones weren’t. The debates raged between theologians, Bishops, and Church Fathers, for several centuries as to which books were inspired and which ones weren’t. In the meantime, several Church Councils or Synods, were convened to deal with the matter, notably, Rome in 382, Hippo in 393, and Carthage in 397 and 419.

The debates sometimes became bitter on both sides. One of the most famous was between St. Jerome, who felt the seven books were not canonical, and St. Augustine who said they were.

Protestants who write about this will invariably mention St. Jerome and his opposition, and conveniently omit the support of St. Augustine. I must point out here that Church Father’s writings are not infallible statements, and their arguments are merely reflections of their own private opinions. When some say St. Jerome was against the inclusion of the seven books, they are merely showing his personal opinion of them. Everyone is entitled to his own opinion. However, A PERSONS PRIVATE OPINION DOES NOT CHANGE THE TRUTH AT ALL. There are always three sides to every story, this side, that side, and the side of truth. Whether Jerome’s position, or Augustine’s position was the correct position, had to be settled by a third party, and that third party was the Catholic Church.

Now the story had a dramatic change, as the Pope stepped in to settle the matter. In concurrence with the opinion of St. Augustine, and being prompted by the Holy Spirit, Pope St. Damasus I, at the Council of Rome in 382, issued a decree appropriately called, «The Decree of Damasus», in which he listed the canonical books of both the Old and New Testaments. He then asked St. Jerome to use this canon and to write a new Bible translation which included an Old Testament of 46 books, which were all in the Septuagint, and a New Testament of 27 books. ROME HAD SPOKEN, THE ISSUE WAS SETTLED. «THE CHURCH RECOGNIZED ITS IMAGE IN THE INSPIRED BOOKS OF THE BIBLE. THAT IS HOW IT DETERMINED THE CANON OF SCRIPTURE.

Teoría de los dogmas (I): Por qué las religiones y sociedades tradicionales no cambian mucho

1. Introducción

Una cosa que sorprende de la religión oficial actual de Occidente (el progresismo o liberalismo, derivado de la Ilustración) es su cambio constante de doctrina. Doctrinas que eran impensables hace apenas 20 años ahora son completamente obligatorias y resulta impensable ir en contra de ellas o siquiera expresar matizaciones. Sólo se considera aceptable la aceptación completa, sin reservas y con entusiasmo de estas nuevas doctrinas.

Sin embargo, las religiones tradicionales han durado miles de años y no tienen esos cambios tan acentuados. No es que las religiones tradiciones no cambien, pero lo hacen de forma lenta y dentro de unos ciertos parámetros.

Esta diferencia merece una explicación. Aquí se explicará por qué las religiones tradicionales no cambian mucho. El tema de por qué la religión progresista cambia tan rápidamente se deja para un próximo escrito.

2. Por qué las religiones tradicionales no pueden cambiar con facilidad

Comenzamos con el motivo del poco cambio en las religiones tradicionales. Las otras religiones no cambian tan rápidamente porque tienen estructuras fijas que no puedes modificar sin salirte de la religión.

Estas estructuras fijas de las religiones incluyen la doctrina (es decir, la teoría, metafísica, el «es» de Hume) y la práctica (es decir, la ética o el «debe ser» de Hume).

Estas estructuras fijas son los dogmas, los textos sagrados, la tradición y las interpretaciones autorizadas por la historia de la religión.

Así, por ejemplo, en la religión católica, tenemos los dogmas establecidos por los Concilios, la Biblia (texto sagrado), la tradición de la Iglesia y todas las interpretaciones autorizadas que los Papas, Concilios y eruditos cristianos han hecho a lo largo de la historia.

En el Islam teniemos los seis dogmas de fe, el Corán (como texto sagrado), los hadices (como tradición) y, como interpretaciones autorizadas, las escuelas de jurisprudencia islámica junto con los productos de los estudiosos islámicos clásicos.

Para simplificar, a todas estas estructuras las llamamos «dogmas». Llamaremos dogma a toda parte de una religión que no se puede cambiar o prescindir sin abandonar la religión. Estos dogmas son los pilares sobre los que se construye el edificio de la religión y no pueden cambiarse (o su cambio es extremadamente difícil).

Así, en una religión tradicional, no hay una libertad total para cambiar la religión, sino que las estructuras fijas (los dogmas) hacen que el cambio sólo sea dentro de unos ciertos parámetros.  Si la religión fuera un perro, estaría atado a un poste y, aunque la cuerda que lo ata puede ser larga, no puede ir mucho más allá del poste. Es por eso que el cambio de doctrina en las religiones tradicionales es lento y siempre dentro de unos ciertos límites.

3. Por qué los dogmas son inevitables

El hombre moderno (es decir, corrompido por nuestra religión progresista actual) ve todo este aparato dogmático como una esclavitud intolerable y como un estorbo en la búsqueda de la libertad y de la verdad. ¡Qué retrasados eran los antiguos que se sometían a la mano muerta del pasado! Nosotros ahora podemos ir donde la evidencia nos lleve. Podemos dejar esas antiguallas de los dogmas y usar nuestra razón para encontrar la verdad.

¿Pero es realmente así? No. Por dos razones: los dogmas son inevitables y los (buenos) dogmas funcionan.

Centrémonos en la primera razón. Seguramente, quien lea estas líneas pensará que el mundo moderno no tiene dogmas, pero esto es imposible: siempre se necesitan unas premisas con las cuales interpretar la realidad. Estas premisas no pueden ser demostradas porque, si no, la demostración sería infinita.

La cadena de demostraciones: «¿Por qué A? Porque B. ¿Por qué B? Porque C ¿Por qué C? Porque D…» no puede ser infinita. Por ello, debe acabar en alguna razón no demostrada para no ser infinita y esta razón no demostrada es el dogma.Como dijo G.K.Chesterton, «en realidad, sólo hay dos tipos de personas, las que aceptan un dogma y lo saben y las que aceptan un dogma y no lo saben».

4. Los dogmas de las religiones tradicionales codifican la ley natural

Centrémonos en la segunda razón. Pero, ¿los dogmas no limitan la búsqueda de la verdad? ¿No producen errores al evitarnos ir donde la evidencia nos lleve?

El hombre moderno olvida que, aunque cualquier religión tradicional puede contener errores, sólo a la religión progresista moderna (que se jacta de no tener dogmas) se le han ocurrido absurdos como que una persona es una mujer aunque tenga cromosomas XY en todas las células de su cuerpo. O que los hombres y las mujeres son biológicamente iguales en todos los aspectos de la personalidad, lo que ha sido desmentido por la ciencia y por cualquiera que abra los ojos. O que sea buena idea fomentar la promiscuidad sexual y la destrucción de la familia.

Los dogmas son, en realidad, principios con los cuales interpretamos la evidencia (más de esto en otro escrito) y que limitan la cantidad de error en el funcionamiento práctico de las sociedades.

En efecto, es cierto que los dogmas pueden contener errores . Cuando el cristianismo dice que «Jesús es Hijo de Dios» mientras que el Islam dice que «Jesús no es Hijo de Dios sino sólo un profeta», es evidente que alguno de los dos se equivoca (o bien se equivocan los dos). Y basándose en este error en los dogmas, se pueden derivar otros.

Sin embargo, estos errores normalmente quedan en el plano espiritual. En el plano social o práctico, todas las religiones convergen en unos parámetros similares,  siempre dentro de un margen de error.

Así, como dijo C.S.Lewis, hay culturas en las que tener varias mujeres se considera bueno y hay culturas en las que tener varias mujeres se considera malo. Sin embargo, no hay ninguna cultura en la que acostarse con la mujer de otro hombre se considere bueno.

Al conjunto de estas normas éticas prácticas que comparten todas las culturas se le llama «la ley natural» o «la ley moral» (C.S.Lewis lo llamaba «el Tao»).  Por contraste, a la ley que está en los libros jurídicos y que el Estado hace cumplir, se le llama «ley positiva».

La ley natural es el mínimo común denominador de las normas religiosas.  A la ley natural, se añaden otros aspectos prácticos específicos de cada religión (por ejemplo, el cristianismo puede prohibir la poligamia y el divorcio, mientras el islam los permite) y de cada sociedad (por ejemplo, hay que cumplir la Constitución española), pero no nos detendremos aquí en esto, porque nos enfocamos en lo que las culturas tienen en común.

Como dijeron, entre muchos otros, San Pablo e Immanuel Kant, esta ley natural está impresa biológicamente en cada persona (a esta impresión biológica la llamamos «conciencia»). Para más detalle, consultar aquí

En resumen, no hay ninguna religión cuyos dogmas no favorezcan la familia, la compasión, la falta de egoísmo, el deber, la falta de usura, etc. Dicho de otra manera, no hay ninguna religión que no favorezca la ley natural (siempre dentro de unos márgenes de error).

5. ¿Por qué los dogmas de las religiones tradicionales codifican la ley natural?

¿Cómo puede ser que las consecuencias de los dogmas sean las mismas para todas las religiones (la ley natural) si los dogmas de las religiones son tan diferentes entre sí?

Es por un proceso parecido a la selección natural, que podemos llamar «selección cultural». Si los dogmas de una religión no llevan a aplicar la ley natural, la sociedad que adopta esta religión no aplica la ley natural y no sobrevive, pues la ley natural es el conjunto de los requisitos mínimos para que funcione una sociedad. Cuando muere la sociedad, muere la religión que la adopta. De esta manera, sólo sobreviven las religiones cuyos dogmas afirman la ley natural.

Así, una religión que vaya contra de la familia y la natalidad (como la progresista), producirá una sociedad incapaz de reproducirse, que será conquistada por otras sociedades vecinas, que siguen la ley natural. La religión (progresista) de la sociedad conquistada morirá con ella. Los historiadores del futuro se preguntarán por qué todas las religiones tienen, en grandes líneas, la misma moral, que coincide con la ley natural (con márgenes de error). En realidad, las sociedades que no siguieron la ley natural, no pudieron sostenerse, perecieron y no dejaron restos.

Un ejemplo ilustrativo es el budismo. El budismo predica que el mundo es una ilusión y que las almas individuales son también una ilusión, pues sólo existe el Absoluto (una especie de Dios impersonal que es lo mismo que el universo). Además cada uno recibe lo que merece (karma), en esta vida o en las siguientes vidas que hay después de las rencarnaciones, por lo que todo sufrimento es merecido y además necesario para alcanzar el Nirvana (la unión con el Absoluto que es el objetivo máximo del budismo).

Con una cosmovisión así, está claro que la ley natural no tiene sentido. Lo que es más: ninguna moral tiene sentido. ¿Por qué debo ayudar al necesitado si 1) no existe 2) las otras personas no existen 3) el sufrimiento es una ilusión 4) la persona que sufre está pagando un justo castigo que, además, lo acerca al Nirvana?

Si embargo, el budismo enseña que hay que comportarse de manera moral y compasiva, según la ley natural (es el «sila» del Noble Camino Octuple). Si no enseñara esto, la religión no hubiera sobrevivido, pues las sociedades que  hubieran adoptado el budismo hubieran perecido. Así, el precio que paga el budismo para sobrevivir es ser contradictorio con sí mismo y, más específicamente, que la doctrina («es») y la ética («debe ser») del budismo se contradigan entre sí (mientras que la doctrina es nihilista, la ética se basa en la ley natural).

Así, si la cultura fuera un animal, los dogmas de la religión serían el código genético o ADN. El código genético de un perro y de una mosca pueden ser muy diferentes, pero los dos tienen que tener las mismas consecuencias: alimentarse, reproducirse, huir de los depredadores, etc, pues, si no, el animal no sobreviviría.

De la misma manera, los dogmas del budismo theravada pueden afirmar que los dioses no importan mientras que los dogmas del cristianismo puede afirmar que Dios es lo más importante. Pero los dogmas del budismo y del cristianismo afirman  que la gente debe construir familias, dedicarse a la compasión, comportarse sin egoísmo, etc. Las consecuencias sociales son parecidas: es la ley natural, lo que permite sostenerse a la sociedad que adopta los dogmas del budismo y a la sociedad que adopta los dogmas del cristianismo.

Como dice C.S.Lewis (recordemos que él llama «Tao» a la ley natural y «sistemas de valores morales» a las diferentes éticas de las diferentes culturas e ideologías):

El Tao, que otros pueden llamar Ley Natural o Moralidad Tradicional o los Primeros Principios de la Razón Práctica o los Primeros Lugares Comunes, no es un sistema [específico] de valores [morales] entre un conjunto de posibles sistemas de valores [morales].

[Por el contrario, el Tao] es la única fuente de todos los juicios de valor [es decir, de los juicios morales]. Si se rechaza [el Tao], se rechazan todos los valores [morales]. Si se retiene algún valor [moral del Tao], este se retiene.

Es contradictorio el esfuerzo por refutar el Tao y elevar un nuevo sistema de valores [morales] en su lugar.  [Por ello,] nunca ha habido, y nunca habrá, un sistema de valores [morales] radicalmente nuevo en la historia del mundo.

Los supuestos nuevos sistemas [de valores morales] o … ideologías … consisten todos en fragmentos del mismo Tao, arbitrariamente arrancados del todo, aislados de su contexto y luego hinchados hasta la locura. Pero aún así, toda la validez que puedan tener la deben al Tao y sólo al Tao.

Eso no quiere decir que todos los conjuntos de dogmas de las diferentes religiones sean igualmente adecuados desde el punto de vista social. Todos incluyen la ley natural, que es lo mínimo para que una sociedad se sostenga a largo plazo. Pero una sociedad, a parte de sostenerse, puede prosperar más o menos. Por eso, hay conjuntos de dogmas más adecuados que otros, según si los añadidos que hacen a la ley natural son mejores que otros.

Esto se puede analizar en el plano teórico, pero es más fácil de verlo en el plano práctico. Las sociedades que se basan en dogmas más adecuados desde el punto de vista social tienen más éxito, no sólo en el plano económico, político y militar sinó también en el plano cultural (filosofía, ciencia, música, arte, literatura, etc). Para más detalle, ver el apartado 9 y 10 de aquí

6. Por qué la razón no puede sustituir a los dogmas

En resumen, los dogmas de las religiones tradicionales son baluartes contra el error social. Si no te desvías mucho de ellos, no te desvías mucho de sus consecuencias, es decir, de la ley natural y, por consiguiente, tu sociedad sobrevive. En un camino estrecho que tiene barrancos a los dos lados (pues siempre el camino es muy estrecho debido a la entropía, como se explica en otro escrito), los dogmas de las religiones tradicionales son las barandillas que te impiden que vayas más allá del camino, te caigas por el barranco y te mueras. Son protecciones contra el error y contra comportamientos autodestructivos.

Se podría decir que la razón también es un baluarte contra el error y, por lo tanto, podríamos abandonar los dogmas y dejar que nos guíe la razón.

Sin embargo, al contrario de lo que cree el hombre moderno, la razón también tiene sus limitaciones. Como prueba, están todos los filósofos que dicen basarse en la razón pero se contradicen entre ellos. En general, la razón puede justificar casi cualquier afirmación, por absurda que sea.

Así, por ejemplo, si tus dogmas indican que sólo hay dos sexos: hombre y mujer («Y Dios creó al hombre a su imagen. Lo creó a imagen de Dios. Hombre y mujer los creó», Genesis 1:27), no caerás en el error de creer que hay personas transexuales. Esto te evita una serie de disfunciones sociales: que castres a niños en las escuelas, que las mujeres compitan con desventaja contra hombres en equipos femeninos, etiquetar como fanáticos a los hombres que no se quieren acostar con transexuales….

Pero si usas la razón, puedes argumentar que no hay personas transexuales (sólo existen personas con cromosomas XX y personas con cromosomas XY) o argumentar que sí hay personas transexuales (en realidad, la biología no importa y la identidad es algo psicológico: lo importante es el interior y no puedes oprimir a una persona haciéndolo que se sienta como no se siente).

Para cualquier afirmación, sea cierta o falsa, puedes inventarte mil razones que la sostengan, con lo que, en la práctica, la razón no es baluarte contra el error, pues no descarta afirmaciones erróneas. En cambio, los dogmas de las religiones tradicionales sí que descartan el error práctico de naturaleza social, pues, si una sociedad ha sobrevivido durante miles de años, esto quiere decir que las consecuencias sociales de sus dogmas son, en general, correctas (pueden tener error pero el error es reducido).

(Para más detalle, leer este escrito sobre Sócrates, ver el corto escrito de Chesterton y el más largo de Tom Wolfe. También recordar la frase de  Donald Kingsbury,

La tradición es un conjunto de soluciones a problemas que hemos olvidado. Desecha la solución y el problema vuelve a ti. A veces, el problema ha cambiado o desaparecido. A menudo sigue estando ahí, tan fuerte como siempre.)

Entonces, ¿por qué los dogmas de la religión progresista son tan diferentes (e incluso contrarios a todos los de las religiones tradicionales? ¿Y por qué la religión progresista cambia con tanta frecuencia? ¿Y qué consecuencias tiene todo esto? Esto se verá en un escrito próximo.

 

Los blancos son esclavos

Los blancos son asquerosos. Por supuesto que los no blancos intentan obtener la mayor cantidad de riqueza de los blancos que puedan, ¿por qué no lo harían? Si vas a comprar un automóvil, ¿no intentas obtener el mejor trato posible y no esperas que el concesionario también trate de exprimirte hasta el último centavo?

Los blancos piensan como esclavos, se comportan como esclavos y son tratados como esclavos. Muy pronto serán esclavos. Son asquerosos, y los únicos blancos que merecen algún grado de lástima son aquellos que reconocen que la verdadera porquería y el verdadero enemigo no son los judíos o los negros o los asiáticos, sino otros blancos.

¿Cómo se puede sentir odio por el «enemigo que está en la puerta de la ciudad amurallada» cuando la puerta es impenetrable y la única amenaza radica en el hecho de que las personas que están dentro de la ciudad amurallada están desesperadas por abrir las puertas, dejar entrar a la horda, arrodillarse y besarles los pies?

El perro de Fermón

Sacado de «Claudio, el dios, y su esposa Mesalina», Robert Graves

—Vitelio, en una época mejor habrías sido uno de los hombres más virtuosos. ¿Cómo fue, entonces, que tu recta naturaleza adquirió esa especie de joroba permanente, por hacer continuamente el cortesano?

 —Era inevitable bajo una monarquía —respondió—, por benévolo que fuese el monarca. Las antiguas virtudes desaparecen. La independencia y la franqueza ya casi no existen; la complaciente anticipación de los deseos del monarca es entonces la mayor de las virtudes. O bien hay que ser un buen monarca como tú, o un buen cortesano como yo… O un emperador o un idiota.

 —¿Quieres decir que la gente que sigue siendo virtuosa como en los tiempos antiguos debe sucumbir inevitablemente en tiempos como estos ? —le pregunté.

 —El perro de Femón tenía razón. —Eso fue lo último que dijo, antes de caer en coma, del cual jamás se recuperó.

No pude sentirme tranquilo hasta que busqué la referencia en la biblioteca.

Parece que Femón el filósofo tenía un perrito a quien adiestraba para ir a la carnicería todos los días y traer un trozo de carne en una cesta. Esta virtuosa criatura, que jamás se atrevía a tocar la carne hasta que Femón le daba permiso, fue atacada un día por una jauría de perros mestizos, que le quitaron la cesta de la boca y comenzaron a destrozar la carne y a devorarla. Femón, que contemplaba la escena desde una ventana vio que el perro meditaba un instante. Era indudable que no podía rescatar la carne; los otros perros lo habrían matado. De modo que se metió entre ellos y comió tanta carne como pudo. En rigor, comió casi más que los otros perros, porque era más valiente y listo.

Sobre l’ordre de l’Alcorà

Van agafar les sures i les van posar de més llarg a més curt.

L’Alcorà és un refregit de molts textos de religions diferents. Era molt difícil buscar-los un ordre lògic

A més, la major part no és narratiu.  A vore, per exemple, en un evangeli, la cosa va així: «Jesús va anar al Llac de Galilea i va dir X. Després Jesús va baixar a Jerusalem i va dir Y.». Però clar, en l’Alcorà tens un text que diu X i un text que diu Y en rotllos diferents. No hi ha la narració.  Com ordenes això si no tens context narratiu?

Al final es va trobar una manera, però va trigar segles i ja l’ordre de l’Alcorà estava fixat.

Els erudits musulmans van fer un ordre cronològic entre els capítols (suras) i després els erudits occidentals van fer les seues hipòtesis.  Molt probablement, este ordre cronològic és fals, però això és una altra història.

I com poden conviure les aleyes de la Meca i les de Medina si son contradictòries?

Les aleyes de la Meca són anul·lades (abrogades, és la paraula).  Les revel·lacions posteriors anul·len a les anteriors. Segueixen en l’Alcorà però no són vàlides. Quan els musulmans volen fer taqiyya amb els occidentals, usen eixes les aleyes de la Meca que ja no estan vigents. Perquè les aleyes de la Meca són tot tolerància i bondat.  Fa un any o així,  algú estava mostrant un Alcorà d’estudi en un video i tenia notes a peu de pàgina. I en una aleya  deia: «Esta aleya  és útil per fer taqiyya» (és a dir, taqiyya és la mentida que diuen els musulmans per enganyar als cristians)

Els erudits musulmans saben quines aleyes estan abrogades i quines són vigents. Els fidels normals no solen llegir l’Alcorà. Fan el que els seus imams els diuen. L’Alcorà és un text complicat. La Bíblia no és un text fàcil, però es pot llegir. Però l’Alcorà és molt difícil si no eres un erudit.

Ara no crec que les aleyes pacífiques siguen de la Meca i les aleyes violentes siguen de Medina. Eixa és la teoria tradicional, però no hi ha res en el text que diga que una aleya és de la Meca i una de Medina

Els erudits musulmans han agafat les aleyes pacífiques i tol·lerants i han dit: «Estes són de la Meca» i  les aleyes violentes han dit: «De Medina». Les aleyes que deien coses contràries a la doctrina islàmica han dit «De la Meca».  Les aleyes que deien la doctrina islàmica han dit «De Medina».  Així qualsevol cosa de l’Alcorà que contradiu la doctrina islàmica diuen: «ha sigut abrogat». En la presentació parle més de l’abrogació

La meua opinió actual no definitiva és que les aleyes pacífiques són les que venen del cristianisme herètic, de textos cristians, més o menys manipulats per tècniques linguístiques. Les aleyes violentes venen de la religió que acabaria convertint-se en l’Islam. Per ara, l’anomene l’abrahamisme.

En les aleyes de la Meca veus crides al monoteisme i la tolerància. Clarament, això és d’una religió que no és oficial d’un Estat En les aleyes de Medina, veus crides a la conquista i molt de lleis de com s’ha de comportar la gent (incloses lleis civils de com va l’herència, el divorci, etc). Això és d’una religió que és oficial d’un Estat.  Que ha de legislar com l’Estat ha de comportar-se. Obviament, l’Estat és el califat, l’Imperi Arab

Teoría de la conciencia

Cuando una persona está en un cuarto oscuro por un largo tiempo, y viene alguien y de repente enciende una bombilla, ésta se siente encandilada, siente que la luz le fastidia, no la soporta e intenta apagarla. Esto mismo le ocurre al mundo, se encuentra sumergido en las tinieblas del pecado, y es por ello que cuando viene un cristiano con la luz de Cristo, le fastidia, le incomoda y por ello intenta apagarlo. Es así como, cuando el mundo no logra seducirnos y conformarnos a su mentalidad entonces intenta desanimarnos y apabullarnos a través de burlas y persecuciones.

Sí. Es la conciència. Com diria la gran filòsofa: «La conciencia qué puta que es»

La conciència ens ensenya què està bé i què està malament. Es algo biològic (encara que es pot influir per la cultura).  La conciència és biològica, com per exemple, la necessitat de sexe. Això vol dir que varia entre persones en una distribució normal (en forma de campana de Gauss): de la mateixa manera que hi ha gent que corre més que uns altres o gent que és més sexual que uns altres. També es pot distorsionar i reprimir per formes culturals (psicològiques). Imagina un capellà catòlic reprimint la necessitat de sexe. (Amb més o menys èxit, segons les persones).  Però sempre està allí i no es pot apagar.

Per això es pot reprimir, es pot distorsionar…però és molt difícil eliminar-la. Hi ha gent que naix sense ella (els psicòpates) però però la resta la tenen.

Quan un es porta malament, en el fons sap que es porta malament i ha d’acallar eixe pensament.  Està tot el dia convencent-se a ell mateix que el que ha fet està bé. Tot el dia llavant-se el cervell a ell mateix, intentant oblidar el tema, etc. Quan veu algú que li recorda el tema i li revifa el conflicte interior, reacciona contra ell.

Es per això que, quan Adam i Eva van pecar, es van amagar de Déu per primera vegada.  Sant Pau deia que els pagans també tenien conciència: «ya que muestran la obra de la ley escrita en sus corazones, su conciencia dando testimonio, y sus pensamientos acusándolos unas veces y otras defendiéndolos,» (Romans 2:15). Es perquè és algo biològic. Sant Pau deia que «la llei moral estava escrita en els cors dels pagans». Però en el seu temps es pensava que el cor era l’òrgan que pensava.  Hui diríem: la llei moral està escrita en els cervells de tot el món.  I a eixa escriptura, l’anomenem conciència

Immanuel Kant, en su Crítica de la razón práctica, había afirmado: «Dos cosas llenan mi ánimo de creciente admiración y respeto, a medida que pienso y profundizo en ellas: el cielo estrellado sobre mí y la ley moral dentro de mí».

D’ahí ve tot l’odi als cristians. A l’Islam no tenen odi perquè no el coneixen. Però el cristianisme els recorda lo femer que són i els fa sentir mal. Per això, l’odi cap a ell.

Per això, alguns gais no poden suportar el pensament que algú no aprove el que fan, encara que esta desaprovació siga en privat. Volen censurar a tot el món amb les lleis contra la LGBTIfobia per a vore si així acallen el conflicte interior

«Si fuerais del mundo, el mundo amaría lo suyo; pero como no sois del mundo, sino que yo os escogí de entre el mundo, por eso el mundo os odia. Acordaos de la palabra que yo os dije: «Un siervo no es mayor que su señor». Si me persiguieron a mí, también os perseguirán a vosotros; si guardaron mi palabra, también guardarán la vuestra. Pero todo esto os harán por causa de mi nombre, porque no conocen al que me envió.» (Juan 15, 19-21)

Fa temps vaig llegir un article que em va despertar sobre això. Em va agradar tant que em vaig comprar el llibre (que tinc a la universitat) però la resta del llibre no és tan bona

L’article deia que molt del que veiem en el moviment progre només es pot explicar per la conciència.  Per exemple, l’activisme de gent com els gais.  Donava moltes maneres en què el món modern repeteix les mateixes accions que es feien en l’Església per acalmar la conciència

Llástima que no les recorde, perquè estava molt bé. Veies que el que fan els progres en certes ocasions té la mateixa motivació que el que fem els cristians amb els sacraments perquè venen de la mateixa necessitat de la conciència.

Una que recorde:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKA5HRTFp_c

L’actriu Michelle Williams en la cerimònia de los Globos de Oro (una espècie de premi de consolació dels Oscars) declara públicament que ella ha tingut un avortament.  O siga que ella ha matat al seu fill.

Hi ha tres aspectes interessants del discurs:

1) Com la conciència no li deixa dir les coses clares. Si pensara que l’avortament és tan fantàstic, perquè no diu: «Sí, jo vaig matar al meu fill» o, inclus, «Jo vaig provocar un avortament»?

En comptes d’això, diu algo així com «vaig exercir el meu dret a decidir»

A decidir què? Entre cafè negre i cafè amb llet?

2) Com li posa un munt de raons. Què ella volia control·lar la seua vida, etc. S’està justificant, quan ningú li ha preguntat res. Es justifica sense que l’acusen, perquè com deia Sant Pau, «la seua conciència l’acusa»

3) I més important. Què fa dient públicament que ha tingut un avortament? A qui l’importa?

El que eixe article em va obrir els ulls és que la motivació per això és que està buscant l’absolució.  Una catòlica es confessaria per llevar-se el sentiment de culpa. Ella ho diu publicament perquè li aplaudisquen. El que vol és que la gent l’aprove i a vore si així es lleva el sentiment de culpa que no la deixa viure. No sap com acallar la seua conciència.

Inclús sense el sacrament, haguera pogut tindre una millora. Si ella reconeixia en privat que ho va fer malament, s’arrepentira i plorara per eixe fill mort. Així podria començar a sanar.

Però ella no està disposada a això. Està en rebel·lia contra qualsevol norma moral. I per tant, la conciència no la deixa viure. I acaba dient-ho a tot el món que ha avortat, a vore si el món l’absol

Quan veus que moltes de les confessions públiques d’actes inmorals són només formes desesperades de buscar l’absolució enténs moltes coses.

L’article explicava unes altres maneres (a banda de l’activisme i l’absolució) en què la conciència motiva als progres. I els relacionava amb actes equivalents en l’església.

Sí. La conciència és biològica, com per exemple, la necessitat de sexe. Això vol dir que varia entre persones en una distribució normal (en forma de campana de Gauss): de la mateixa manera que hi ha gent que corre més que uns altres o gent que és més sexual que uns altres. També es pot distorsionar i reprimir per formes culturals (psicològiques). Imagina un capellà catòlic reprimint la necessitat de sexe. (Amb més o menys èxit, segons les persones).  Però sempre està allí i no es pot apagar.

Sant Pau deia que «la llei moral estava escrita en els cors dels pagans». Però en el seu temps es pensava que el cor era l’òrgan que pensava.  Hui diríem: la llei moral està escrita en els cervells de tot el món.  I a eixa escriptura, l’anomenem conciència

Why morality is impossible for atheists?

Taken from here

Let’s review what you need in your worldview in order to have a rationally grounded system of morality.

You need 5 things:

1) Objective moral values

There needs to be a way to distinguish what is good from what is bad. For example, the moral standard might specify that being kind to children is good, but torturing them for fun is bad. If the standard is purely subjective, then people could believe anything and each person would be justified in doing right in their own eyes. Even a “social contract” is just based on people’s opinions. So we need a standard that applies regardless of what people’s individual and collective opinions are.

2) Objective moral duties

Moral duties (moral obligations) refer to the actions that are obligatory based on the moral values defined in 1). Suppose we spot you 1) as an atheist. Why are you obligated to do the good thing, rather than the bad thing? To whom is this obligation owed? Why is rational for you to limit your actions based upon this obligation when it is against your self-interest? Why let other people’s expectations decide what is good for you, especially if you can avoid the consequences of their disapproval?

3) Moral accountability

Suppose we spot you 1) and 2) as an atheist. What difference does it make to you if you just go ahead and disregard your moral obligations to whomever? Is there any reward or punishment for your choice to do right or do wrong? What’s in it for you?

4) Free will

In order for agents to make free moral choices, they must be able to act or abstain from acting by exercising their free will. If there is no free will, then moral choices are impossible. If there are no moral choices, then no one can be held responsible for anything they do. If there is no moral responsibility, then there can be no praise and blame. But then it becomes impossible to praise any action as good or evil.

5) Ultimate significance

Finally, beyond the concept of reward and punishment in 3), we can also ask the question “what does it matter?”. Suppose you do live a good life and you get a reward: 1000 chocolate sundaes. And when you’ve finished eating them, you die for real and that’s the end. In other words, the reward is satisfying, but not really meaningful, ultimately. It’s hard to see how moral actions can be meaningful, ultimately, unless their consequences last on into the future.

Theism rationally grounds all 5 of these. Atheism cannot ground any of them.

Let’s take a look at #4: free will and see how atheism deals with that.

Atheism and free will?

Here’s prominent atheist Jerry Coyne’s editorial in USA Today to explain why atheists can’t ground free will. (Note: link is dead, this is the link to archive)

Excerpt:

And that’s what neurobiology is telling us: Our brains are simply meat computers that, like real computers, are programmed by our genes and experiences to convert an array of inputs into a predetermined output. Recent experiments involving brain scans show that when a subject “decides” to push a button on the left or right side of a computer, the choice can be predicted by brain activity at least seven seconds before the subject is consciously aware of having made it. (These studies use crude imaging techniques based on blood flow, and I suspect that future understanding of the brain will allow us to predict many of our decisions far earlier than seven seconds in advance.) “Decisions” made like that aren’t conscious ones. And if our choices are unconscious, with some determined well before the moment we think we’ve made them, then we don’t have free will in any meaningful sense.

If you don’t have free will, then you can’t make moral choices, and you can’t be held morally responsible. No free will means no morality.

Here are some more atheists to explain how atheists view morality.

William Provine says atheists have no free will, no moral accountability and no moral significance:

Let me summarize my views on what modern evolutionary biology tells us loud and clear — and these are basically Darwin’s views. There are no gods, no purposes, and no goal-directed forces of any kind. There is no life after death. When I die, I am absolutely certain that I am going to be dead. That’s the end of me. There is no ultimate foundation for ethics, no ultimate meaning in life, and no free will for humans, either.

Richard Dawkins says atheists have no objective moral standards:

In a universe of blind physical forces and genetic replication, some people are going to get hurt, other people are going to get lucky, and you won’t find any rhyme or reason in it, or any justice. The universe that we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference… DNA neither knows nor cares. DNA just is. And we dance to its music. (Richard Dawkins, River Out of Eden: A Darwinian View of Life (1995))

When village atheists talk about how they can be moral without God, it’s important to ask them to justify the minimum requirements for rational morality. Atheists may act inconsistently with their worldview, believing in free will, expecting praise and blame for complying with the arbitrary standards of their peer group, etc. But there is nothing more to morality on atheism that imitating the herd – at least when the herd is around to watch them. And when the herd loses its Judeo-Christian foundation – watch out. That’s when the real atheism comes out – the atheism that we’ve seen before in countries that turned their backs on God, and the moral law. When God disappears from a society, anything is permissible.

Comments:

The curious question is why challenges like this never fail to provoke atheists. Why are they so keen to reject any hint that they are not also “good?” Why even care about morality, or anyone else’s opinion about such things? Indeed, I have even seen atheists attempt to take the moral high ground by insisting that, unlike theists, they are good for goodness’ sake. If “good” is just an arbitrary social construct, like dressing in green, then of course atheists can say that they are able to dress in just as much green as anyone else. All they are then saying is that they, too, can be morally fashionable; but as with the fashions of the Emerald City in The Wiz, such colors may change with the times.

I find few atheists willing to admit what the logic of their worldview concludes: that their morality is, at bottom, a matter of preference. There seems to be something in them that rejects the trivialization of morality and the actual currency of their own virtue. Attendant with the objective view of morality (the Christian version at least) is the idea that we have associated moral intuitions to aid us in both the apprehension of and obedience to the moral law. The very reaction from the atheist is testimony to the fact that they share this moral intuition. Furthermore, the impulse to defend one’s moral character implies the reality and gravity of that which is being defended.

And so, we have both the atheist’s urge to defend their virtue and the rejection of the idea that they are referring to something trivial when doing so. Just what are we expected to make of this in a cold, purposeless world? Are they saying that they are just as driven by animal instinct and social convention as us theists, or are they saying that they can somehow equally participate in a universe with transcendent, objective morality? They are either saying nothing of consequence or they are conceding everything.

This is the kind of discussion that can led to real conversion. When I was an atheist, I was outraged by some of the evil acts I saw people do. One woman injected drano into her victim – this was just a small part of the torture this poor girl received:

https://www.nydailynews.com/news/crime/ala-couple-twisted-rapes-killings-article-1.1889899

Now, the natural law written on my heart (Romans 2:15) assured me that this was evil, depraved, wicked – whatever religious term one wishes to use. (And isn’t it amazing how quickly atheists can become, then deny, objective moralists when it is OTHERS’, then their own, behavior in play?!?) But, if there is no God, then all things are permissible. Sure, the criminals might go to jail or even to death, but death is the great equalizer on atheism, and there is no ultimate, or transcendent, significance to ANY life – victim or perpetrator.

The irony is that our criminal justice system is at least based, if not very well operating, on natural law. We BEHAVE as though we believe in objective moral values and duties when WE are the victims, but not when we are the perpetrators. So, at the least, these kinds of arguments can lead to a recognition of inconsistencies and hypocrisies in our lives. At the end of the day, the moral argument was one of two that really helped in my conversion.

And I might add that since the overwhelming majority of churchgoers are functioning as atheists, because they behave no differently from atheists except for an hour on Sunday mornings, such behavior is a serious stumbling blocks to those, like me, who were seeking an Objective Good. By not standing against things like abortion, by not crying out against Hell, divorce, gay “marriage,” etc, churchians show that they do not really believe the basic tenets of their faith – and such behavior keeps, and creates, a LOT of atheists. I had to find authentic born again followers of Jesus Christ in order to know that Christianity existed in America. They were not easy to find.

If we really believe in objective moral values and duties, then we know how real and dreadful Hell is (Galatians 6:7). And we should be warning people of it. To not do so, is to deny our Savior and to “love” people into Hell.

 

«¿Mala suerte? ¿Buena suerte? Sólo Dios sabe»

Una historia china habla de un anciano labrador que tenía un viejo caballo para cultivar sus campos. Un día, el caballo escapó a las montañas. Cuando los vecinos del anciano labrador se acercaban para condolerse con él, y lamentar su desgracia, el labrador les replicó: «¿Mala suerte? ¿Buena suerte? Sólo Dios sabe»

Una semana después, el caballo volvió de las montañas trayendo consigo una manada de caballos. Entonces los vecinos felicitaron al labrador por su buena suerte. Este les respondió: «¿Buena suerte? ¿Mala suerte? Sólo Dios sabe».

Cuando el hijo del labrador intentó domar uno de aquellos caballos salvajes, cayó y se rompió una pierna. Todo el mundo consideró esto como una desgracia. No así el labrador, quien se limitó a decir: “¿Mala suerte? ¿Buena suerte? Sólo Dios sabe».

Una semana más tarde, el ejército entró en el poblado y fueron reclutados todos los jóvenes que se encontraban en buenas condiciones. Cuando vieron al hijo del labrador con la pierna rota le dejaron tranquilo. ¿Había sido buena suerte? ¿Mala suerte? Sólo Dios sabe»

Todo lo que a primera vista parece un contratiempo. puede ser un disfraz del bien. Y lo que parece bueno a primera vista puede ser realmente dañoso. Así, pues, será postura sabia que dejemos a Dios decidir lo que es buena suerte y mala y le agradezcamos que todas las cosas se conviertan en bien para los que le aman.

Tomado del libro “Sadhana, un camino de oración“, del místico y sacerdote católico Anthony de Mello (1931-1987).

Was Jesus a socialist?

Taken from here

Episode Transcript

Scott Rae: Welcome to the podcast, Think Biblically: Conversations on Faith and Culture. I’m your host, Scott Rae, dean of faculty and professor of Christian ethics at Talbot School of Theology here at Biola University. Our guest today is Mr. Lawrence Reed, who is the President Emeritus of the Foundation for Economic Education. He has actually just recently stepped down from that role. I don’t think it’s quite accurate to say that you’re retired, because you’ve got lots of projects, in particular writing projects that you’re looking forward to doing over the next few years. Larry, welcome to our time today. You spent a lot of time thinking about a very provocative topic that you’ll be speaking about later at [Acton] University, entitled Was Jesus a socialist? So I appreciate the opportunity to ask you some questions about that and to flesh that out a bit for our listeners.

Lawrence Reed: My pleasure. Thank you for having me, Scott. I appreciate it.

Scott Rae: Well, let’s first define what you mean by socialism so that we’re all on the same page as we begin this discussion.

Lawrence Reed: I’m very glad you started with that question, Scott, because the views of what socialism is are all over the lot. Some people think socialism is just helping people, sharing things with people, doing good. But, of course, all of those things you can do under capitalism. That’s not enough of a definition. I think socialism should be defined as a system in which you have central planning of the economy by the government or government ownership of the means of production or the forcible redistribution of income by the government. In most cases, when you have socialism, you’ve got some of all three. Of course, the most extreme versions will have all three, where the government runs everything, owns everything, and redistributes wealth according to its liking.

In any event, no matter what version of socialism or the degree to which you have it may be, the distinguishing feature of socialism is force. If it’s voluntary, it’s not socialism. You can do that under capitalism. What differentiates socialism is that, for those various purposes that I mentioned, government is the main player, and it uses coercion or the threat of it to do its job.

Scott Rae: I think that’s a helpful definition, especially those three prongs that are to it. I wonder if maybe the best way to define socialism would be to shatter some misconceptions and tell us what it’s not. You say it’s not just a desire to help people.

Lawrence Reed: That’s right.

Scott Rae: Are there other misconceptions about socialism that we need to debunk here at the start?

Lawrence Reed: Well, I think most if not all of those misconceptions come down in some form to the idea that government is going to be helpful to people. It’s going to give them health care. It’s going to provide them employment. It’s going to give them security and assuredness for their economic lives and so forth. In one version or another, that’s what it reduces to. But what distinguishes it from any other system, from capitalism in particular, is how that is to be done. Socialism does it by means of the concentration of power in the hands of government. It doesn’t do it by voluntary civil society organizations, by mutually beneficial free commerce in the marketplace. Those are attributes of capitalism. Socialism does the job it’s supposed to do … No matter how poorly or how well, it does it through coercion, through force.

Scott Rae: So what countries would you say are predominantly socialist economies today around the world? Give us an example of some of those.

Lawrence Reed: I wish I could give you an example of one that is both socialist and that is a model in some way, but those two things don’t seem to go together. The most extreme application of socialism would be in such places as North Korea, where the government is in charge of everything. Close behind would be places like Cuba or Venezuela. But some people mistakenly claim that Scandinavia is socialist, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Norway. They have extensive welfare states, but they’re really not socialists. They have globalized economies, lots of private ownership. I have reasons to object to some of the welfare stateism and its effects, but they’re not quite socialism. So if you really want true socialism, I’m sorry, you’re going to have to look at countries that frequently employ the use of force to do things even if they seem to be good things to do.

Scott Rae: So there really aren’t a whole lot of examples of the pure socialist ideal being practiced today.

Lawrence Reed: No, there really aren’t. Those countries that dabble in some degree of socialism, usually, if they seem to be doing well, it’s not because of the socialism they have. It’s because of the capitalism they haven’t yet destroyed. So even those halfway houses still depend for what capitalism they have left to pay the bills of the socialism they have.

Scott Rae: So it sounds like what you’re suggesting is, if we looked at this on a continuum of pure socialism on one end and pure capitalism on the other, that most economies are mixed.

Lawrence Reed: That’s right.

Scott Rae: They belong somewhere along this continuum.

Lawrence Reed: Exactly. I think that describes overwhelmingly most of the countries of the world.

Scott Rae: Now let’s go back to the New Testament part, which is the heart of what you’re going to be talking about here at Acton. What in the New Testament makes people think that Jesus was a socialist?

Lawrence Reed: Some people think that, again, socialism is sharing. It’s caring. It’s compassion. It’s just people helping people. If that’s what you think, then you might be inclined to believe that Jesus was a socialist because he talked about caring for the poor and so forth. But he never once advocated the tools that socialism uses to do those things. He never advocated for the concentration of power. He never advocated for the government ownership of the means of production or the forcible redistribution of wealth or the central planning of an economy. I mean, first of all, he was interested in other things, your soul, first and foremost. But on earthly matters, Jesus never suggested in any way that he was calling for the use of concentrated political force to do good things.

Scott Rae: So it sounds like, if I asked you to finish the sentence, «Jesus was not a socialist because,»-

Lawrence Reed: [crosstalk]

Scott Rae: … that would be the main thing.

Lawrence Reed: That would be it, absolutely, never advocated the use of concentrated political force to get something done.

Scott Rae: But Jesus did advocate what I would refer to as extreme voluntary generosity, where his followers were pretty clearly mandated to hold all their possessions pretty loosely. But that’s a far cry from what you’re describing as socialism.

Lawrence Reed: Oh, yeah. I mean, he never said, «And if you don’t do it, I’m going to call Caesar and have him force you to do it.» He felt very strongly that a person doing something good from his own heart is … That’s what he was looking for. That makes all the difference in the world. You don’t make somebody a religious person by taking him to church at gunpoint. You want an inner change. You want, from within a person, a rebirth, a renaissance in such things as character and compassion. That’s what makes all the difference in the world. Jesus was more interested in what’s in your heart than he was in what you wanted a politician to do. That didn’t concern him much at all.

Scott Rae: I think that strikes most people as intuitively pretty correct, that if you’re mandating me to do something and you’re twisting my arm in order to get me to take out my wallet and give some money to the homeless guy down the street, that sort of wipes out the virtue-

Lawrence Reed: Oh, absolutely.

Scott Rae: … for me.

Lawrence Reed: What we should really want in society is people who do the right thing, do the compassionate thing because they want to, not because they have to, not because there’s a gun at their back.

Scott Rae: But the cynic would say, if we just left it to that, most people are not going to do that.

Lawrence Reed: You hear that a lot, but I reject the idea that government is more compassionate than the people it supposedly represents. There are a lot of temptations within government that often take good people and grind them up. So if anything, I think, as a rule, government is less compassionate than the ordinary citizen, less capable even of providing real care to a person in need. When you and I do it, we’re interested in things like accountability. We’re interested in the person. We’re interested in suffering with them, getting to know them. Government just writes a check and pops it in the mail. I mean, that often takes a problem and makes it worse, not better.

Scott Rae: I appreciate that that’s the idea of compassion, which is to suffer with someone, as you know. It’s the idea that we have a relationship with the person that we’re showing compassion towards.

Lawrence Reed: That’s right.

Scott Rae: All right, let’s go to the early church. A lot of people suggest that the early church held all their possessions in common and that Ananias and Sapphira, for example [crosstalk].

Lawrence Reed: Yeah.

Scott Rae: That sounds a lot like the forcible redistribution of wealth and property from that text in Acts 6, when they held something back. There were pretty serious consequences for them on that. That sounds a lot like coercion to me. How do you understand the early church and as Acts describes that holding all things in common?

Lawrence Reed: That’s right. Well, it’s clear from subsequent passages that, although the early Christians were expected to hold much in common and not to focus on material wealth, that they didn’t sell everything they had, because they continued to meet, in many cases, in their own private homes. But you have to consider the context too. This is a new faith in a hostile land, occupied by foreigners, Romans in this case, who did not like the idea of these religions popping up and challenging perhaps Roman authority. So it was very important that the early Christians have certain standards in order to be convincing, persuasive, and maybe even to keep them out of trouble sometimes from the Roman authorities. There’s nothing in the New Testament that says the way the earliest of Christians were expected to conduct their economic affairs is therefore the way that all people in all times are to conduct their affairs. Christ never said, okay, you folks, we need you to behave this way, and therefore 2,000 years from now, we want everybody doing the same. They had certain standards they had to meet at that time to get the faith off the ground. So you have to consider the context.

Scott Rae: But you would hold that there are certain moral principles, certain virtues that do transcend time and culture, like their generosity-

Lawrence Reed: Oh, yeah. I think that’s-

Scott Rae: … and their lack of materialism, things like that.

Lawrence Reed: That’s right. But, see, I think that, to be truly generous, one has to do it of his own free will-

Scott Rae: Voluntarily.

Lawrence Reed: … and of his own money. You’re not generous just because the government tells you you have to do it or because you support a politician who says he’ll get it done for you.

Scott Rae: Larry, a lot of people today are very skeptical about the accumulation of wealth, particularly about the exercise of power that goes with that. Now I think, in the first century, when Jesus and the early church were around, I think [inaudible] was a little different than today, because power was used in order to accumulate wealth, where I think today it’s more accumulated wealth is used as a means of exercising power. In some cases it just reflects cronyism and protecting yourself from competition. But there are a lot of people who hold that the Bible teaches that the accumulation of wealth itself is morally problematic, especially when you have so many needs that could be met. How do you understand the scripture on that?

Lawrence Reed: I don’t see the Bible in any way as suggesting the mere accumulation of wealth, per se, is wrong or bad. I think what determines whether it’s right or wrong is how you come about the wealth and what you do with it. I mean, if you’ve come about it through the use of political connections, where political power is employed to maybe stifle your competition or to get something from people that you wouldn’t otherwise freely get in the marketplace, then, yeah, I’d be the first to blow the whistle on that. If you use your wealth, even if it’s obtained entirely through voluntary, peaceful, productive means, but then you use it to buy political power, I’d say you’re crossing a line, that that’s a bad thing too. It all depends on how you come about it. If it’s free, legitimate, voluntary, peaceful, fine. It’s a measurement of how much, typically, you’ve contributed to the rest of society. Just don’t use it, once you get it, to oppress people through your alliance with those in political power.

Scott Rae: I think that’s a very big difference in the way wealth was accumulated in the ancient world, in Jesus’ time, and it is today, because as you know it was unusual for people to become wealthy in the ancient world without doing some of those very things that you’re referring to.

Lawrence Reed: Exactly, political connections.

Scott Rae: Or it was by theft or extortion or oppression, which I think is one of the reasons why Jesus made the statement, the remarkable statement, that it’s harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom than it is for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, not because there’s anything, as you said, intrinsically problematic about wealth. But the way in which it was obtained was so often morally compromising.

Lawrence Reed: That’s right. I think he was also saying with wealth come such things as great temptation. So he’s saying don’t allow your wealth … Even if it’s secured entirely in a peaceful, productive fashion, don’t allow your wealth to become the central object of your life. Don’t worship wealth. Don’t fall into temptation that comes with it. He says be careful. Be mindful of it. But he’d say that about a lot of things. I mean, I think he would say it’s easier for a guy in great shape to climb the fence than a man who’s broken both legs. That doesn’t mean he’s opposed to the guy who’s broken his legs. He’s just saying you’ve got more challenges.

Scott Rae: Now you cite several passages in the Gospels that have a lot to do with economics, where Jesus either makes economic assumptions or is directly teaching about some aspect of economics, so things like the parable of the talents, the good Samaritan, the parable of the workers in the vineyard, rendering unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s. So if we could, spell out a little bit further. What do you think Jesus had in mind about economics with the parable of the talents? We’ll start with that.

Lawrence Reed: I think Jesus was primarily calling us all to very high standards of character. He wasn’t opposed to the accumulation of wealth. He wasn’t opposed to entrepreneurship. I wasn’t opposed to the wealthy, per se. Again, it’s all a matter of how you obtained your wealth and what you do with it. In the case of the parable of the talents, he tells the story of a man who is leaving his estate for a time. He trusts three men with a substantial but equal degree of his wealth. He says I’ll be back later and see what you’ve done with it. He comes back later, and he finds that one man has not magnified the wealth in any way. He has the same amount, but he’s proud that he’s preserved the master’s wealth. The second guy actually put it to work, made some investments, and he’s got two or three times what the master originally entrusted him with. The third guy did an even better job at investing it and has 10 times as much. Well, if Jesus were a socialist, he would upbraid and excoriate the third guy for focusing on the accumulation of wealth. But, instead, in the parable, he actually condemns the first guy for his non-creation of wealth.

Scott Rae: For burying it in the ground.

Lawrence Reed: Exactly, yeah. He says the third guy is the hero of the story, and the guy from whom … Jesus says we’re going to take the talents, the money from the first guy, and give it to the third guy, because he knows how to create wealth. A socialist would never come to that conclusion.

Scott Rae: So a socialist would completely level the playing field in terms of outcomes.

Lawrence Reed: At the very least. He might even go a step further and condemn the third guy for being so productive.

Scott Rae: All right. What about the parable of the good Samaritan. That one, I think, is a little harder to see what the direct connection would be.

Lawrence Reed: Well, think of the story. A man is on the road, and he comes across a man who’s in desperate shape, perhaps beaten, robbed, laying along the side of the road. He clearly needs help. The man who becomes known as the good Samaritan, what does he do? Or what does he not do? He doesn’t say to the man in need, «Oh, well, you need to find a social worker,» or, «Maybe there’s a government program for you,» or, «I’ll drop in a word with the emperor to come back and do something for you.» No. With his own resources, of his own free will, he immediately pitches in and helps the man. If he had done any of those other things, if he had just said, oh, it’s somebody else’s responsibility, it’s the government’s, or I’ll get a program going for you, we would not think of him today as the good Samaritan. We would think of he as the good for nothing Samaritan. But he’s the good Samaritan because he helped the man from his own free will and with his own resources.

Scott Rae: Sometimes I think what we forget about that is that compassion to really make that work requires economic capacity to be able to do that. Obviously, his funds were not unlimited. But as I understand it, he essentially did the equivalent of giving the innkeeper his credit card, saying whatever charges he has, put it on my bill.

Lawrence Reed: Yeah, good way to put it. If he had been poverty stricken, he couldn’t have done [crosstalk]

Scott Rae: He couldn’t have done any of that. So I think sometimes we assume that the systems that are the most productive are also the least compassionate, which, I think, in reality, I think just the opposite of that is true, because it’s the systems that produce wealth that are able to generate the resources not only for the taxes needed for government, but also for private charity and things like that. What about the parable of the workers in the vineyard. That one is a little more puzzling, because that seems patently unfair [crosstalk] what Jesus is prescribing there.

Lawrence Reed: It’s a fascinating story or parable. When I first read it, I remember just thinking, as an economist, wow, there’s a lot of things going on here. There’s supply, demand. Anyway, the story goes like this. A man needs to hire workers to help bring in the harvest, presumably, grapes. So he hires workers as the start of the day and offers to pay them a day’s wage. But partway through the day, he realizes, oh, I haven’t got enough workers, and I’ve got to get this harvest in. So he hires another group of workers maybe halfway through the day, and to get them, he offers to pay what he had paid the other ones for the whole day, or offered to them.

Finally, with an hour left in the day, he realizes, oh, my gosh, my harvest is going to not all get in if I don’t hire a few more workers. So he hires some others just for an hour, and he offers to pay them what he offered the first group to work all day. Some of those first group come to him later and say, hey, this is not fair. These guys have only worked an hour. Or the ones that only worked half a day, you paid them as much as you paid us to work all day. The response is not, oh, yeah, you’re right. I have to even this up. The response is, I didn’t cheat you. I paid you what I offered, and you accepted. It’s my money.

What’s going on here, I think, is a defense of contract, two people arriving at a mutually beneficial contract. It’s supply and demand. I mean, the guy needed more workers, and to get them at the end of the day, he had to pay what he had to to attract the workers. There’s freedom of association here. If Jesus were a socialist, he would have the master being criticized for not paying a proportionate wage. So he arrived at a very un-socialist and pro-capitalist prescription at the end of the day.

Scott Rae: I think that’s a really good observation, because I think most people don’t see readily in that parable an affirmation of private property [crosstalk]

Lawrence Reed: No [crosstalk]

Scott Rae: It’s the owner’s money, and this is what he needed to do to attract labor at the last minute, or else the harvest was not going to be complete.

Lawrence Reed: He kept his word to everybody. What he offered is what he paid.

Scott Rae: Now I’ve got some colleagues who are from Canada, and I’ve got several friends and neighbors who are from Scandinavia. In fact, my son had a roommate for a while who was from Sweden. I think, for one, it’s not uncommon for them to claim that their countries are actually socialist countries. We’ve talked about that, that that’s not really accurate, because throughout Canada and throughout most of Western Europe, the balance between government’s involvement in the economy versus the individuals is different than it is in the US. So I asked one of these friends, «So tell me what the tax rate that you pay is in Canada.» I thought that would be a drop the mic moment when this person said about 50%, but it wasn’t. The reason it wasn’t is because this person, I think, actually made a fairly compelling case that they have just agreed to a different tradeoff than we have in the US. They are content to pay much higher taxes, but they have much higher expectations about what government will provide, particularly in terms of health care and other things. What’s wrong with that arrangement? It just seems like it’s just a different social contract that people have somewhat, I think, voluntarily agreed to because they’re counting the cost of their taxes but the benefits that those bring to them.

Lawrence Reed: Well, first of all, you can’t say it’s voluntary across the board. I mean, if there’s one person who says, hey, I had a better use for those dollars than what the government put them to after it took them. So it’s not entirely voluntary. It’s that some majority of the people who actually voted supported politicians who delivered that. But keep in mind too that even in those Scandinavian countries, that consensus has evolved over the years. They have less of a welfare state, less sky-high taxation today than they had 30, 40 years ago. They tried the 90%, 99% tax rates, and they found that that was disastrous.

Scott Rae: Because?

Lawrence Reed: Well, because it drove the most productive people away. It stifled the formation of new businesses. It led to chronically high unemployment. So Scandinavia, all those countries, in fact, have been reducing tax rates much of the last 20 years. They’ve gone the other direction and found it wanting. Nonetheless, they, generally speaking, I think it’s fair to say, have decided they’re willing to accept a lot more welfare state than I am or even the average American. Maybe that’s less objectionable when you’ve got a homogenous population that may not be as entrepreneurial as America. America has a long history of people who are willing to take great risks. We had a western frontier where people had to put everything on the line to go west and so forth. So we are a naturally more risk-taking, entrepreneurial people, I think, who don’t respond well to sky-high taxes.

Scott Rae: Because it skews the calculus of risks and benefits.

Lawrence Reed: Exactly. At some point, people are going to say, look, if I don’t get to keep the rewards, why should I take the risks?

Scott Rae: I think there are some who would say I don’t even want to work harder, because the harder I work, the more I make, the less I get to keep.

Lawrence Reed: Exactly, yeah.

Scott Rae: I think that’s helpful. I think it’s helpful for our listeners to recognize that, when we talk, that every tradeoff has costs to it. My Canadian friends think it’s morally reprehensible that so many people can be bankrupted by health care bills, but I wouldn’t be thrilled. I actually thought when this person said that they paid a 50% tax rate that that discussion would be over. But that’s not necessarily true.

Lawrence Reed: I wonder how many people go bankrupt for other reasons after the government takes half their money.

Scott Rae: That may also be true. I guess, one last question. I know historically, if you look throughout the 20th century, there have been periods where, throughout the world, people have romanticized socialism. What would you say? What advice would you have for people, say, in our Millennial, Gen Z generation today who seem to be romanticizing socialism again like people did in the 1920s and 30s? What advice would you have for them?

Lawrence Reed: Well, I would start by acknowledging that, with few exceptions, they have good intentions. But I would encourage them to be thorough in their thinking. By being thorough, I mean think of things like all people, not just a few. Sometimes we fall for the thing that may seem to work for a handful of people while ignoring the effects on everybody else. I would encourage them also to think long-term, because there are a lot of things you can do in the here and now for the moment that may seem to be good. But what if they have as a long run consequence the bankruptcy of the country? Would you say, well, that’s okay, we’ll just deal with it when we get there?

A lot of civilizations that have gone the welfare state route, for instance, they started out on that path thinking, oh, we’re going to help people. The ancient Roman republic went the welfare state path. If you could go back to the Romans and say, you know, you started out with good intentions when you started the grain dole and the other handouts. But I have to tell you that you ended up bankrupting the morals and the economics of your society, and you got conquered, and you’re off the map. You maybe ought to rethink that. But, of course, they can’t do that, but we should not be so blind to the lessons of history and economics and thinking long-term. We should look very carefully at all the consequences of all acts and policies, not just what seem to be beneficial for a few in the near run.

Scott Rae: Well, this is very helpful stuff, very insightful. What I appreciate is that you trained as an economist, but yet your grasp of the New Testament and the life of Jesus is really good.

Lawrence Reed: Well, thank you.

Scott Rae: I appreciate the way you have tried hard to integrate your study of the Bible and your example of the life of Jesus into your economic theory in some really meaningful ways. So I think this will be really helpful for our listeners to think about this not only from someone who’s good in economics, but also has a good grasp of the New Testament.

Lawrence Reed: Well, thank you, Scott. I appreciate that.

Scott Rae: I appreciate both of those aspects coming out in our time today. So we’re really grateful for the chance to ask you some questions and to spell out some of these things for us in a little bit more detail. It’s much appreciated.

Lawrence Reed: My pleasure.

Scott Rae: This has been an episode of the podcast, Think Biblically: Conversations on Faith and Culture. To learn more about us and today’s guest, Lawrence Reed, and to find more episodes, go to Biola.edu/ThinkBiblically. That’s Biola.edu/ThinkBiblically. If you enjoyed today’s conversation, give us a rating on your podcast app and share it with a friend. Thanks so much for listening, and, remember, think biblically about everything.

 


About scientism and religion not allowing the free inquiry

It is impossible for Science to inquire the mystery, the same that it is impossible to inquire the mystery of fetal development by using Anthropology. Or to prove the theorem of Fermat or the French Revolution using Science. It is the wrong discipline.

Science is a method to find answers to some MATERIAL phenomena using a specific method (the scientific method, which is imagining theories and trying to validate them with material experiments).

Science is based on philosophical axioms that cannot be proven by science. For example, there is an external world, our senses are trustworthy, the world is regular and these regularities are according to mathematics (laws of nature), the laws of nature are the same in the entire universe, etc.

The discipline to find the ultimate mysteries of existence (which are not material, the same way the theorem of Fermat is not material) is philosophy (which is based on logic), and, more specifically, metaphysics. With metaphysics you can discover some things about God (“natural theology”). Then you can inquire using history if Christianity is true or not.

When you say

“Nothing, as long as you allow Science to inquire into what is currently the mystery”, it is obvious that you believe in scientism.

Scientism is the belief: “Science is the only way to obtain the truth”. But this sentence cannot be proven by science. So scientism is self-refuting: it contradicts itself and, hence, it cannot be true.

“Problem is that established belief systems”

The current scientific understanding of the world is an established belief system, as well as history, for example.

” (religion is a fine example 😀 ) usually discourage such inquiry, often with dire penalties.”

You can find people discouraging inquiry in every discipline. See, for example, the reluctance of modern science in acknowledging the difference of IQ between races. You find fanatic people everywhere.

But this is not the official position of the Christian religion. “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect,” (1 Peter 3:15). See also paragraphs 159 and 286 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.