CHAPTER 6: The Nature of the World: Metaphysics Nature is too thin a screen; the glory of the omnipresent God bursts through everywhere. —Ralph Waldo Emerson There is nothing which God hath established in a constant cause of nature and which therefore is done every day, but would seem a miracle, and exercise our admiration, if it were done but once. —John Donne It was a mild April day when my flight arrived in Colorado. I spent the next two days in Colorado Springs sitting through conference presentations at the Holiday Inn, exercising my mind while my body suffered from inactivity. It was definitely time to reverse the paradigm. Still functioning on East-Coast time, I awoke early in the morning, jumped into the Dodge Stratus that I had rented, stopped at a bagel shop where I bought a large coffee and a pesto bagel with sun-driedtomato cream cheese, and headed up Route 24, winding through the mountains towards Pike’s Peak. Heading west, I found a place where I could park the car by a trailhead. I hiked along the trail for an hour before the thin, cold air drove me back to the car. I was starting to feel rejuvenated, and I continued to drive up the mountain, enjoying the silence and the scenery. The higher I drove, the colder it became. Suddenly I found myself surrounded by white-capped mountains in every direction. I found a place to park and got out of the car, as the bitter wind reminded me that I had no coat. I stared in silence, captivated by the vista: blue sky, white clouds, the sun illuminating the brightness of the snow, and mountains as far as the eye could see. Reflexively, without thinking, I uttered aloud, “God, this is beautiful!” I did not try to pray; rather awe and praise simply flowed through me. Awe is a fascinating affective state, and only recently has it been the object of scientific study. Although awe is a common emotion, it is hard to define. It can encompass surprise, wonder, joy, and even dread—so much so that the word “awful” is related to the word “awe.” Humans, it seems, are primed to look for agency (e.g., a belief in God) when they experience awe. Seeing ourselves as finite in the face of vast beauty seems to lead to a sense of anxiety because so much is beyond our personal control, and this anxiety is reduced by belief in divine agency. This may be a new idea in experimental social science, but it is easily found among poets and philosophers and psalmists. Think about a time when you experienced wonder and awe. Did it result in praise of God or a sense of connection to God? Would a lack of awe reveal a deficiency (such as being a mere “brute” or lacking common sense or wisdom)? My friends who grew up in flat wheat fields or painted deserts may disagree with me, but I think mountains proclaim that there is a God better than any other landscape. Even so, I have had similar experiences of awe-filled praise while listening to lively South American music, watching giraffes loll across the Serengeti Plain at dusk, seeing the sunset reflected off a frozen Indiana lake, walking on New England cliffs above the ocean, strolling along a California beach at night, or gazing at a star-filled sky. According to C. S. Lewis, “Men of sensibility look up on the night sky with awe: brutal and stupid men do not.” In his view, sensible people look at the stars with humility, and the wonders of nature elicit their awe. In contrast, those who gaze upon the beauty of nature with indifference have a character flaw. Their ignorance or apathy prevents them from having the appropriate response to their experience. The point that Lewis made has a long tradition, stretching back at least to Plato and Aristotle. One of the great tragedies that modernism has foisted on contemporary education is that we have severed the development of character from the attainment of knowledge. Classically, education focused on character formation and knowledge acquisition. In fact, Aristotle believed that a central purpose of education is to shape character so that our desires are correctly ordered. “Hence we ought to have been brought up in a particular way from our very youth, as Plato says, so as both to delight in and to be pained by the things that we ought; for this is the right education.” Aristotle, Plato, and Lewis all assumed that some things ought to elicit awe, that some things ought to elicit desire, and that some things ought to revolt us. This brings us to the heart of an important issue: What is our proper place in the world? In order to answer this question, we first need to understand the nature of the world we live in. In this chapter, we will explore this issue by looking at the nature and origins of the physical world (cosmology) and proceed to explore the ultimate nature of reality (metaphysics). This will pave the way for us to discuss human nature itself in chapter 7. Some readers may initially think that the topics of this chapter are dull philosophical issues or that they are irrelevant to integration. Partly this reaction stems from the unfortunate effect of modernism on contemporary education. Contemporary politicians, parents, and students often fall into a trap of seeing only the instrumental values of education (e.g., “How will this help me get a good job?”). At its best, though, education is a process of character formation that seeks to shape the kind of person one is becoming, and it is a mechanism to hone critical-thinking skills. Lack of interest in these issues may also be a result of the postmodern stance that truth, beauty, and goodness are largely matters of subjective opinion. Contrary to these views, you may find that exploring the nature of the world and of ultimate reality can be important and interesting. In fact, the topic of this chapter has much to do with how you understand your experience, and we will begin by looking at your own experience of awe. Thin Places Think back to a time when you experienced a feeling that was something like a mixture of amazement, joy, and gratitude. Perhaps you were picking wild blackberries while walking along a mountain trail in early summer. Maybe you were drifting lazily downstream as the currents lapped the sides of your boat. Or you could have been staring through a microscope, gazing with fascination at protozoa that are invisible to the naked eye. Many people express overwhelming feelings when they see the birth of a child. Some people see such events as having deeply spiritual meanings, a view that has a long and venerable tradition. Celtic Christianity, which began to flourish in the fifth century in the British Isles, embodied deep respect for God’s creation. Prior to this period, though, nature was understood through pagan beliefs and celebrated through druid practices. When Christianity came to the Isles, reverence for nature took its rightful place as a signpost to its Creator. In the words of the psalmist: The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. (Ps 19:1–3, NIV) Celtic Christians believed in the existence of thin places, where the gap between the natural and supernatural worlds was more transparent than usual. In this view, when I sensed God’s presence as I looked at the snow-capped mountains surrounding me in Colorado, I was in a thin place. The idea of thin places resonates with me. In the modern world, though, we are prone to try to explain everything with scientific formulas, and some people believe that everything can be reduced to natural explanations that remove God from our picture of the world. Can scientific explanation coexist with belief in transcendent thin places? The answer to that question depends on one’s view of cosmology, the nature of the world. Cosmology, narrowly defined, is “the science of the nature, structure, and origin of the universe as a whole.” The questions modern cosmologists attempt to answer reflect ancient metaphysical issues, although framed in scientific rather than philosophical terms. Does the fact that we are so small and the world is so large mean that we are insignificant? Modern cosmology is written in the words of mathematics, theoretical physics, and astronomical terminology. The creation account of Judaism and Christianity is written in narrative: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen 1:1, NIV). Much of the ancient Hebrew cosmology meshes well with modern cosmology, and much of it seems foreign. An especially difficult point of contrast in these cosmologies is the place of humankind. Are humans central to the created world, or are they a peripheral accident at the edge of insignificance? Consider the following claim: The cornerstone of modern cosmology is the belief that the place which we occupy in the Universe is in no way special. This is known as the cosmological principle, and it is an idea that is both powerful and simple. It is intriguing, then, that for the bulk of the history of civilization it was believed that we occupy a very special location, usually the center, in the scheme of things. That our physical world is not the center of the universe is no longer in doubt. Our sun does not rotate around the earth, the sun itself is not in the center of our galaxy, and our galaxy is not in the center of the universe. Our world is not only less central to the universe than we might have once thought, but the size of the universe is larger still by many magnitudes than most of us can even conceive. The light of our nearest celestial neighbor, Proxima Centauri, travels 4.2 years across the expanse of space to reach us. The speck of light that we currently see as the North Star originated seven hundred years ago, shortly before the founding of the Ottoman Empire, the start of the Hundred Years’ War, or the beginning of the bubonic plague. Our planet resides in a galaxy that covers an expanse of over 45 thousand light-years, and the observable universe is at least one thousand times that size, a distance of 1023 kilometers. Yet no matter how old or how large the universe is, how small our little corner of it is, or how remote we are from its geographic center, one still wonders if our place within it is of any eternal and existential significance. When we look at the stars, are we faced with the cold, hard truth that this world is all that there is, or are we encountering a thin place that hints that nature herself is upheld by a kind and loving God? Our answer to this question depends on several metaphysical issues to which we now turn our attention. From Cosmology to Metaphysics Aristotle lived more than three centuries before the birth of Christ. His writings covered subjects as diverse as physics, biology, poetry, and ethics. Aristotle was the first person to create a comprehensive philosophical system in the Western world. According to tradition, the task of cataloguing Aristotle’s writings fell to his student, Andronicus of Rhodes. Aristotle’s first fourteen books concerned the elements that compose the world, optics, and causes. These books were grouped together and catalogued as having to do with nature—ta physika. When his remaining books were cataloged, they were identified as the books coming after nature:ta meta ta physika. These writings dealt with many topics, including the ultimate nature of reality and the nature of being. Metaphysics involves “the philosophical investigation of the nature, constitution, and structure of reality.” We have already engaged in metaphysical exploration when we looked at worldviews in chapter 5. Every worldview attempts to answer basic metaphysical questions about the world. Our task here is not to revisit the worldview questions. Instead, we need to ask how Christian answers to several specific metaphysical questions can be reconciled with a world understood in scientific terms, and what implications these answers have for the pursuit of integration. In their thinking, scientists cannot avoid making metaphysical assumptions, since the scientist “investigates questions science does not address but the answers to which it presupposes.” For instance, if a scientist makes the metaphysical assumption that everything that exists is knowable as a part of nature (an assumption known as metaphysical naturalism), he or she may reject supernatural claims as being without merit. This rejection is based on a metaphysical assumption, not on an established scientific “fact.” Many apparent contradictions between science and Christianity are the result of differing metaphysical premises and interpretations based on those premises. As we will see, the metaphysical assumptions that one makes have implications for one’s understanding of truth, goodness, and beauty. We have already addressed the first of these topics in chapter 5. Our discussion will now proceed by exploring three specific metaphysical issues: the nature and origin of the world, the nature and source of ethical values, and the nature and source of beauty. Does Anything Outside of Nature Exist? In the Western world, most people are either naturalists or supernaturalists. Naturalists believe that nothing other than the material world exists; supernaturalists believe that the material world exists, but that it came into existence at some point when God created it. Naturalism is defined by two propositions: there is no God, and matter is all that there is. We will thus refer to holders of this view as naturalists or atheistic materialists. Supernaturalism, at least as expressed in orthodox Christianity, agrees with the naturalist that matter exists, but supernaturalists do not view the world as a self-existent material realm. Christianity teaches that the material world is a derivative realm created by God. Peter Van Inwagen compares two metaphysical positions, which we shall refer to as naturalism and supernaturalism. Naturalism has been prevalent since the nineteenth century, while supernaturalism was the commonly held view in the Middle Ages. Van Inwagon summarizes the views of naturalism and supernaturalism with three points of difference, as illustrated in table 6.1 on the following page. While we might want to debate or expand some of Van Inwagen’s characterizations of naturalism and supernaturalism, several points of contrast are immediately evident. Most naturalists presume that the world is a self-existent material realm that at some point or other exploded from a tiny singularity into the wide expanse that is now the universe. Perhaps it cyclically expands and contracts, perhaps not; beyond the Big Bang theoretical physics cannot peer. In this view, the world is self-contained; nothing is responsible for its existence. Atheistic materialism posits that no God, gods, or forces exist outside of nature. Nature is the sum total of all there is. If this view is correct, then when I gaze at stars or snowcapped mountains and feel impelled to praise God, I am, in a sense, delusional. Over the past few decades, several neurological imaging studies have identified brain regions involved in religious experiences. To someone who believes that the physical world is all that there is, my religious experience is nothing but the activation of specific regions of my brain, which I misinterpret as having some external reality. TABLE 6.1 (adapted from Van Inwagen) Naturalism Supernaturalism “The World consists of matter in motion. There is nothing but matter, which operates according to the strict and invariable laws of physics. Every individual thing is made up of matter, and every aspect of its behavior is due to the workings of those laws.” “The World consists of God and all He has made.” God is not a material being; God is eternally existent. “Matter has always existed.” Because it has always existed, it is meaningless to ask why it exists. All things other than God exist because God brought them into being, and they continue to exist because He sustains their being. “Human beings are complex configurations of matter.” Humans have no meaning or purpose for existence. They have no soul, and they will cease to exist when they die. “Human beings were created by God to love and serve Him forever.” Christianity takes as its starting point a different premise: “In the beginning God” (Gen 1:1). God is seen as distinct from, independent of, and superior to nature. He is the creator of nature and the eternal “I am” (Exod 3:14). Supernaturalists believe that God is selfexistent, and all other things are derivative from His creative acts. However, Christians differ greatly in how to reconcile the model proposed by modern cosmology with the teachings of Scripture. Some seek to see Genesis as a metaphorical expression of eons of cosmic and local evolution, while others hold to a literal understanding that must either negate modern cosmology or collapse it into a much shorter timeline punctuated by multiple acts of God. For all their differences, both expressions of Christian thinking emphasize Who did it while diverging on how it was done. The main point of the Genesis account is to proclaim God as the personal originator and upholder of a material creation that He affirmed was good. Theologians may disagree on whether to take this account literally or not, but the scriptural position as understood by the church across the ages does not allow for solely naturalistic explanations that exclude God’s activity as the Sovereign of creation. In the Christian view, there is a supernatural world in addition to a natural world. Physical processes will mediate my experience of God, although God exists independently of my experience. Philip Yancey provides an apt illustration of the connection between the natural world and our experience of the supernatural: “Because we are material beings, God must deal with us on that level. Every spiritual experience depends on the cooperation of our very mundane bodies. A stroke can put an end to a saint’s prayer life. Stop all intake of food and water, and a mystical state will soon come to an end. Nearly everything we know about the supernatural world comes filtered through the ordinary, natural world—which makes it easy for skeptics to dismiss or disbelieve.” Ultimately, one may not be able to prove that the Christian view is correct, but it is at least a consistent, defensible position. Atheistic materialism, likewise, can be viewed as a position that cannot be proved but that can be defended. The divergent implications of these two worldviews are enormous. If the viewpoint of the atheistic materialist is correct, then all our questions have materialistic answers, and any talk of the supernatural is merely superstitious and unscientific. If the theistic view is correct, then the material realm owes its existence to a superior Being and expresses the designs and purposes of its Creator. In the later view, we may sense what Philip Yancey referred to as rumors of another world: things that gently suggest that there may be more than meets the eye. G. K. Chesterton was fond of pointing out the differences in how these two views make us think about nature. If nature is all that there is, then it makes sense to think of her as our mother. She controls everything. She is the answer to everything. She runs the whole show. But if the Christian view is correct, then nature is our fellow creation. Nature is then not our mother, but our sister. In Chesterton’s words: Unfortunately, if you regard Nature as a mother, you discover that she is a step-mother. The main point of Christianity was this: that Nature is not our mother: Nature is our sister. We can be proud of her beauty, since we have the same father; but she has no authority over us; we have to admire, but not to imitate. This gives to the typically Christian pleasure in this earth a strange touch of lightness that is almost frivolity … To St. Francis, Nature is a sister, and even a younger sister: a little, dancing sister, to be laughed at as well as loved. Thus for the atheistic materialist, nature is all that there is, and all meaningful questions ultimately have material answers. For the Christian, nature contains thin places that beckon us to look beyond nature and to stand in awe of the Creator. Tied closely to the question at hand is an important observation. Both the atheistic materialist and the Christian agree that there is a material realm; they can both look at the data and come to identical conclusions about the mechanistic functions of the material. The dividing lines are the origin, purpose, and trajectory of the material realm. Van Inwagen’s summary of naturalism included the belief that humans have no meaning or purpose for existence, and their existence will end when they die. Thus far, we have seen that atheistic materialists and Christians disagree about the ultimate nature of reality. There are many implications of their divergent beliefs that we will explore throughout the remainder of this chapter. First, though, we need to address a potential objection by the atheistic materialist against the Christian. Supernaturalism and Science A common criticism of theism by atheistic materialists is the accusation that the theist cannot be scientific and believe in a supernatural realm. C. S. Lewis addressed this criticism in Miracles. Lewis argued that the ability to identify something as a miracle actually depends upon knowledge of the normal rules of nature, precisely because the miraculous does not fit the normal and expected pattern. In his view, a miracle is not something that breaks the rules of nature, but it is an intervention by which something new is introduced into nature, which nature then accommodates. “The moment [a miraculous intervention] enters her realm it obeys all her laws. Miraculous wine will intoxicate, miraculous conception will lead to pregnancy, inspired books will suffer all the ordinary processes of textual corruption, miraculous bread will be digested.” Lewis referred to the birth of Christ as “the Grand Miracle,” because “every other miracle prepares for this, or exhibits this, or results from this.” Nature could not have brought about the virgin birth of Jesus Christ; but once the conception had taken place within the Virgin Mary, the gestation and birth of the holy child proceeded along natural lines. For the Christian, the divine source of this miracle is foundational to Christian faith. For the naturalist, a Virgin Birth is impossible (since nothing beyond nature exists), so either Jesus was born out of wedlock, or His disciples embellished the story as the religion that sprung up around Him developed. Miracles are by definition rare events, exceptions to the norm and to what we expected—the Virgin Birth was a one-time event, and it certainly wasn’t readily accepted or believed. However, miracles are not violations of scientific realities. The material world is celebrated in a theistic worldview as the handiwork of God. It was created by God and is sustained by God. The Creator endowed the creation with order that allows us to discern the normal rules by which it operates. God can intervene in nature when He sees fit to do so. Of course, if He did so routinely, the rules by which nature operates would constantly seem to be in flux, which is one of the reasons that miracles are, of necessity, very rare events. Miracles do not contradict natural laws for two reasons. First, nature, as creation, merely accommodates miraculous events into its ordinary realm. Second, science describes how reality typically acts, but it cannot state that it is the way it must act. In fact, one of the most influential views of science was that of the positivist Ernst Mach (1838–1916), who believed that “laws are nothing more than concise summaries of past experience, useful in predicting future observations.” Thus they “do not explain phenomena; they merely describe them. To say that a successful theory expresses some kind of truth behind the phenomena is to indulge in metaphysical speculation, for such a statement cannot be tested by observation or experiment.” Understood in this way, science merely provides a descriptive account of nature based on prior observations, not a normative account of how nature must behave. Given this understanding, miraculous events, while not open to empirical inquiry, would not be incompatible with a scientific viewpoint. On the other hand, as Lewis pointed out, every claim of a miracle must be observed within nature, and one can always explain miracles away by looking only at the natural effect and ignoring the supernatural cause. The reality that supernatural interventions must be expressed in natural (and hence, material) circumstances highlights the difficulty of determining whether something is a mere coincidence or a miracle. If one presumes at the outset that miracles cannot exist, claims of miracles will be dismissed as coincidences, rejected in favor of naturalistic explanations, or the need for more data to “clear up the misconception” will be invoked. Conversely, we can see how easy it is to wrongly label coincidences as miracles. Some claims of “miraculous healing” clearly fail to account for the effects of medical intervention and spontaneous remissions due to natural but poorly understood factors. The difficulty of separating coincidences from legitimate miracles should make us cautious of rejecting miraculous claims out of hand, and equally cautious of accepting them uncritically. The a priori rejection of supernatural explanations by atheistic materialists can only proceed on debatable metaphysical grounds. When science is understood as a descriptive rather than a normative process, and when it is understood that supernatural events are not violations of scientific laws, it becomes evident that Christian and scientific understandings are compatible. This state of affairs has tremendous implications for psychology and integration. First of all, we must be aware of the metaphysical assumptions that we bring to the table. Secondly, it means that we need to be careful to avoid materialistic reductionism. While psychological phenomena may be expressed biologically, and especially neurologically, it does not then follow that human functioning can be completely explained based on deterministic neurobiological findings. Thirdly, it means that psychological explanations and theological explanations are not mutually exclusive. In fact, it suggests that both explanations are useful: the one stemming from an attempt to understand human functioning within its natural context, and the other recognizing that human nature and functioning, though expressed in nature, have their origin and purpose rooted in the designs of the Creator. The Nature of God If we accept the Christian proposition that the physical world is a created realm, we must then ask about the nature of its Creator. A brief survey of Christian teachings would illustrate that God is omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, holy, relational, personal, immutable, faithful, just, creative, and transcendent. Many of these attributes have tangible implications for some of the deepest questions of human existence, such as whether or not there is purpose to living, whether or not there is right or wrong, and so forth. They also generate certain intellectual difficulties. For instance, as C. S. Lewis pointed out, Christianity “creates rather than solves, the problem of pain, for pain would be no problem unless, side by side with our daily experience of this painful world, we had received what we think a good assurance that ultimate reality is righteous and loving.” The problem of why a good God allows suffering is called theodicy. Many people struggle with how to relate to God in the midst of their suffering. Because psychologists deal with suffering people, it should not be surprising that this is an issue that is often encountered in psychotherapy. While God’s nature is of considerable importance to the integrative enterprise, one of the crucial implications is that God is interested in human beings. He created us. He loves us. He sacrificed Himself for us. Perhaps John 3:16 is such a well-known verse because it summarizes this truth so well: “God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son so that whoever believes in him may not be lost, but have eternal life” (NCV). And, as our Creator, He also has the ability and right to tell us how we ought to live. Ethics No worldview can survive without an ethical system that maintains a cohesive set of guidelines for determining which behaviors are acceptable and ethical, and which are not. Lewis argued that an understanding of nature that reduces everything to a material level fails to account for the phenomena of reason and morality. If thinking is nothing more than a biologically determined phenomenon, then our belief in the accuracy of our thinking is biologically determined, and, being determined, it offers no room for evaluating the merits of reason. The case is similar for moral judgments: unless there is something outside of nature that provides a basis for morality, then what we perceive as “moral” or “immoral” is simply a matter of biologically and sociologically determined belief. Atheistic materialism cannot ground reason or morality in anything beyond the material realm because it believes that there is nothing other than the material realm. Lewis argued that reason and morality must be grounded in something beyond nature, because nature itself could not give rise to them. In his view, God is ultimately the ground of reason and of morality. They are, however, expressed through material substances, and we can only observe their appearance in the natural realm. “The various and complex conditions under which Reason and Morality appear are the twists and turns of the frontier between Nature and Supernature. That is why, if you wish, you can always ignore Supernature and treat the phenomena purely from the Natural side … What we call rational thought in a man always involves a state of the brain, in the long run a relation of atoms. But … Reason is something more than cerebral bio-chemistry.” For Lewis, human thought and morality are inexplicable by nature alone, reflective of a divine origin, yet expressed in the material stuff of neurons and neurotransmitters. Christianity has much to say about how we ought to live, as do philosophical systems that stem from non-Christian worldviews. Aristotle, for instance, is a tremendous resource in our attempts to understand the good life. Consider the wisdom of just a single section of the Nicomachean Ethics: None of the virtues of character arises in us naturally … the virtues arise in us neither by nature nor against nature. Rather, we are by nature able to acquire them, and we are completed through habit … Further, the sources and means that develop each virtue also ruin it, just as they do in a craft. For playing the harp makes both good and bad harpists … It is the same, then, with the virtues. For what we do in our dealings with other people makes some of us just, some unjust … That is why we must perform the right activities, since difference in these imply corresponding differences in states. It is not unimportant, then, to acquire one sort of habit or another, right from our youth. On the contrary, it is very important, indeed all-important. The wisdom of Aristotle, coming from a non-Christian worldview, is nonetheless instructive for Christians. Aristotle aids us in understanding that the habitual practice of virtue, the living out of one’s ethical system, is the manner through which character is shaped, for good or for ill. Thus we clearly cannot say that non-Christian worldviews are devoid of legitimate ethics, nor that we have nothing to learn from non-Christians regarding character and ethics. The worldview posed by atheistic materialism, however, gives rise to a difficulty regarding how an ethical system can be construed as obligatory. No ethical system can be imposed transcendently from without, for there is no one or nothing outside of the system. One solution to this situation—although by no means the only possible solution—is to construe ethics as purely based on the material value of survival, relative to individual desire, or based on a social pact in which individuals somehow agree on the contours of utilitarian beneficence. None of these are without difficulty. A society in which every member was simply motivated to “look out for number one” would hardly be more welcoming or safe than a dark alley. The drive for survival may perhaps help in the propagation of species, but offers relatively little ground for determining what is right. Evolutionary psychologists have posited several theories about how moral reasoning might have evolved as a result of the survival value it conferred upon the human species. Machery and Mallon described three particular types of moral evolution theories. Some theorists contend that increased cognitive capacities evolved, which in turn gave rise to “emotions, dispositions, rule-based reasoning systems, or concepts.” A second approach argues that normative cognition (a system composed of beliefs about what we should or should not do) evolved, and as norms emerged, so did the tendency to punish those who violate societal rules. A third approach suggests see that moral norms themselves emerged as a particular type of normative cognition. However, even if one accepts the premise that a moral sense evolved in human beings and that it conferred a survival advantage on the species, at best that would help us understand the process of moral reasoning. It would not help us in any way actually determine what is objectively right or wrong. For instance, consider the following example. Imagine that Jean discovers that she is pregnant. She is in her third year of college and recently broke up with her boyfriend. She discusses her situation with friends and makes an appointment to talk to someone at the college counseling center. She considers having an abortion, but decides instead that she will keep the child, and that she will not inform her ex-boyfriend that he fathered her child. Jean has just engaged in decision-making that involved making several moral judgments. The first moral issue involves whether or not abortion is morally acceptable. (Note, however, that we don’t know whether or not Jean’s decision to keep the child rested on this issue or not—she may view abortion as morally acceptable or not. In fact, Jean could have believed that abortion was morally wrong and still had one, or believed that abortion is morally acceptable and chose not to have one. Moral reasoning does not necessarily mean that we will choose to do what we believe to be right.) Jean also decides to withhold information about her child’s paternity from the father. Again, we don’t know why Jean made this choice (perhaps he was abusive, an alcoholic, unfaithful, or they just decided to go their separate ways). But once again, Jean makes a decision that involves a moral element (does she have a moral duty to tell the father about the pregnancy?). In this example, we can clearly see where several branches of psychology might help us understand a myriad of factors that were involved in Jean’s moral reasoning. However, the evolutionary forces that are thought to undergird these factors, as well as the contemporary forces that influence Jean’s thinking and behavior, tell us absolutely nothing about whether or not a particular course of action is actually morally acceptable. Whether or not one accepts the idea that a moral sense evolved as an evolutionary adaptation, it leaves open the question of how (or even if) anything can be shown to be morally compelling or morally delinquent. Christianity, on the other hand, views morality as being grounded in God’s design and intention. “You mortals, the Lord has told you what is good. This is what the LORD requires from you: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to live humbly with your God” (Mic 6:8, GW). As others have pointed out, God did not give us “The Ten Suggestions” on Mount Sinai. Rather, we are given commandments; there are some things that we should do (e.g., Sabbath-keeping, honoring one’s parents) and some things that we should not do (e.g., make idols, bear false witness, commit adultery, etc.). Of course, it goes without saying that our moral sense can be incorrect: people with obsessive-compulsive disorder may believe that there are things they must not do (like walking on the lines of a tiled floor), and people may fail to see errors within their moral reasoning. However, to be reliable, universal, and compelling, more is needed than just a history of how a moral sense and an ethical code evolved. One might argue that if the survival of the species is the ultimate good, then controlled breeding to maximize the most “fit” and minimize the most “undesirable” members of society should be the basis of human ethics. That proposal was expressed supremely in Social Darwinism. The American eugenics movement took Social Darwinism to its natural conclusion. On the grounds that some families were “more fit” than others, recommendations to control population through involuntary sterilization of “degenerates” were codified into laws, some of which were ultimately upheld by the United States Supreme Court. In a majority opinion that is now stunning in the light of the Holocaust, Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. wrote, “It is better for all the world if, instead of waiting to execute degenerate offspring for crime or to let them starve for their imbecility, society can prevent those who are manifestly unfit from continuing their kind.” The ruling overturned a Virginia Supreme Court decision that had prevented the involuntary sterilization of Carrie Buck, a seventeen-year-old girl who, the State argued, had inherited traits of imbecility and sexual promiscuity from her mother, who had been institutionalized in an insane asylum. Unfortunately, “psychological” and “scientific” views based on social Darwinism were a major impetus to the development of American eugenics laws. Certainly, not all atheistic materialists sanctioned the eugenics movement. What is troubling, though, is that there was little political opposition to Social Darwinism. Most troubling of all, is the relative lack of dissent offered by Christians to this movement, and worse yet, the outright support given to it by others. The extremes of the eugenics movement, the use of “scientific” and “psychological” testimony in its behalf, and the historical silence of the church in the face of this issue clearly highlight the necessity of developing a moral system that is both reliable and valid. It would certainly be wrong to suppose that all atheistic materialists are social Darwinists or Nazis. Whether or not they have logical grounds for their ethics, many atheists and other non-Christians are deeply ethical people. Alternately, it is humbling to recount how often the church of Christ has been silent in the face of injustice or has actually been used as a vehicle to promote injustice. Yet the ideals taught by the Christian tradition stand in stark contrast to these failings. These ideals can form the basis of a valid Christian ethical system, but intentional reflection is necessary for us to reliably apply these ideals to current situations; moral awareness demands moral obedience. One of the classic confessions of the Catholic church is the recitation, “I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do.” As we seek to live out the ethics of loving God and our neighbor, why is it important to confess our continual failures to do so? The Christian understanding of goodness is that moral obedience is an obligation, but it also results in well-being. This does not mean that Christians never suffer, but it means that behaving ethically creates optimal conditions for human living. Doing what is good (or moral) is motivated by an appreciation of right action and it results in the deep satisfaction of doing things well. With moral law seen as built into the fabric of the world, Christians and non-Christians alike can discern the good and be motivated to follow it, albeit imperfectly. The duty to love God and neighbor is seen by the Christian as having been built into the fabric of creation and expressed in divine commandment. Jesus was once asked what the greatest commandment was. “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these” (Mark 12:29–31, NIV). It is not enough to recognize that the world includes ethical ingredients; we must follow the ethical duties conferred upon us. This too is fundamental to integration: that we do all things as an expression of our love of God and love for our neighbor. If we fail to recognize and act on the command to love God and to love our fellow human beings in our integrative efforts, then we must agree with the Apostle Paul, “I gain nothing by doing these things if I do not have love” (1 Cor 13:3, BBE). From Duty to Beauty A Christian understanding of the nature and origin of the universe not only imposes a basis for ethical action, but it also provides an impetus for the creation and appreciation of beauty. The world was proclaimed to be “good” by God, and “very good” when it was completed with the creation of humankind. The psalms are full of praise compelled by wonder at and awe of the beauty that surrounds us. How many are your works, O LORD! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. (Ps 104:24, NIV). Yet beauty serves not as an end in itself, but as a reminder that the hand from which it comes is divine. In fact, the Scriptures caution us about the ephemeral nature of earthly beauty: But the wicked will perish: The LORD’s enemies will be like the beauty of the fields, beauty of the fields, they will vanish—vanish like smoke. (Ps 37:20, NIV) Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. (1 Pet 3:3–5, NIV). I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. (Eccl 3:10–12, NIV). While we are to enjoy beauty, we are called to recognize that the beauty of the material world is transient. Our observation of the wonders of human nature and functioning, while tempered by sadness and grief over human fallenness and frailty, should draw us to an experience of wonder and awe that culminates in praise. For the Christian every good thing in life should lead to awe, gratitude, and praise, tempered by the awareness that the material world is transient. This sacramental view of life helps us to recognize that all of life is sacred, and all of its wonders are an impetus to gratitude. G. K. Chesterton understood this. Writing about expressing gratitude for God’s goodness (“saying grace”), he wrote: “You say grace before meals … But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, and swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing, and grace before I dip the pen in ink.” An integrative paradigm that neglects beauty has ignored one of the most fundamental realities of a Christian worldview. And so it is for the Christian who is engaged in any activity, or any area of study. As we explore the wonders of the creation, we cannot help but be grateful, and to praise and stand in awe of our Creator. Summary: Let There Be Light On Christmas Eve 1968, black-and-white images of earth, taken from Apollo 8, flickered on television screens around the world. Astronauts Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and William Anders, who had left their solid footing on Earth for the first manned lunar orbit, were broadcasting a live feed to the distant earth. William Anders initiated the closing moments, his voice punctuated by the extraneous sounds of the transmission: “For all the people on Earth the crew of Apollo 8 has a message we would like to send you: ‘In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.’ ” The astronauts took turns reading the passage, taken from the first chapter of Genesis. Mission Commander Frank Borman read the last few verses, and ended the broadcast with the words, “And from the crew of Apollo 8, we close with good night, good luck, a Merry Christmas, and God bless all of you—all of you on the good Earth.” From a lunar orbit the ancient words had been broadcast with state-of-the-art technology. According to the ancient text, God had declared that the creation was good. Viewed from space by the modern eye, we simply had to agree: this blue-and-white shimmering jewel shining in the vastness of space is indeed good. For all of human history we could look at space in awe, and now we can gaze at Earth from space. We know more about the workings of the material world than at any time in human history. Naturalists (or atheistic materialists) see our increased knowledge as an indication of inevitable progress that can ultimately reduce every experience to material explanations. Supernaturalists agree that we have made incredible leaps in understanding material causation, but they claim that rumorsof another world persist. Thin places still produce amazement, joy, and gratitude that beckon us to look beyond the material realm. Naturalism and supernaturalism lead to different understandings of the nature of the world and of the ultimate nature of truth, goodness, and beauty. In this chapter, we compared some of the implications of Christian answers to metaphysical questions about the existence and nature of God, the relationship of God to the created order, the nature of the world, ethics, and aesthetics. Each of these considerations has implications for an integrative paradigm, both in making such models conceptually possible (i.e., scientific and Christian understandings are compatible) and in pointing to the ultimate ends of human purpose and activity (praise of God and love of neighbor). One might wonder why so much time has been spent on philosophical issues in a book that is about Christian approaches to psychology. Quite simply, it is because these philosophical issues change how we understand the world and our place in it. Alan Tjeltveit put it succinctly: Psychologists’ ethical and metaphysical assumptions profoundly shape their psychologies … Explicit articulation and thinking about those underlying beliefs would improve psychology and certainly improve efforts to articulate the optimal ways to draw on both psychology and Christian faith in seeking psychological understanding. While this is true of epistemology and metaphysics, it is even more central to our discussion as we turn our attention to the assumptions that we make about human nature. Our next chapter will bring us closer to the mutual subject of Christian theology and psychology as we turn our attention to the nature of humanity. David N. Entwistle, Integrative Approaches to Psychology and Christianity: An Introduction to Worldview Issues, Philosophical Foundations, and Models of Integration, Third Edition. (Cascade, 2015), 121–140. CHAPTER 7: The Nature of Humanity: Philosophical Anthropology So complex is the human spirit that it can itself scarce discern the deep springs which impel it to action. —Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Love every man in spite of his falling into sin. Never mind the sins, but remember that the foundation of the man is the same—the image of God. —John of Kronstadt Psychology and theology confront a complex task in attempting to understand human nature. Consider the diverse perspectives on this topic offered by two literary authors. First, the oft-misunderstood lines of Shakespeare’s Hamlet: What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals; and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights delights not me: no, nor woman neither … Yet another perspective is offered by Samuel Clemens (a.k.a., Mark Twain) in the words of the Old Man in his essay What Is Man? Man the machine—man the impersonal engine. Whatsoever a man is, is due to his make, and to the influences brought to bear upon it by his heredities, his habitat, his associations. He is moved, directed, COMMANDED, by exterior influences—solely. He originates nothing, not even a thought. Hamlet is not praising the virtues of human beings, as is often supposed; he is sarcastically mocking such a high view of humanity in the face of his own exposure to the baser side of human nature. The Old Man has also rejected the high view of humanity, instead perceiving human nature in purely mechanistic terms. “The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either—but right through every human heart—and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. And even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained. And even in the best of all hearts, there remains … an unuprooted small corner of evil.” —Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago With Hamlet, we struggle to understand how human beings can be the recipient of incredible abilities and prone to great evil. We try to reconcile how human beings are saints and sinners. Humanity has spawned those in the fashion of Mother Teresa and those in the style of Adolf Hitler. If we are honest, though, our deeper struggle is that good and evil reside in every human heart, including our own. With the Old Man, we struggle to understand humanity as an emancipated being and as a machine. While we cherish the notion of human freedom, with the Old Man we must admit that many things influence our actions: the externals of heredity, habitat, and associations. Like Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Clemens’s Old Man, we all possess assumptions about the nature of human beings, many of which are shaped by our worldviews, as we saw in chapter 4. When we try to evaluate beliefs about human nature, we rely on the epistemic sources and methods that were the topic of chapter 5. Our beliefs about human nature are also affected by our assumptions about the kind of world we live in (e.g., the contrasting views of naturalism and supernaturalism that we explored in chapter 6). When psychologists and theologians attempt to understand human behavior, their insights are inevitably affected by their previously held assumptions about human nature. In assessing the validity of such assumptions, we embark on an investigation of philosophical anthropology (the study of the character, disposition, qualities, and inclinations of human beings). Psychology and theology are both concerned with philosophical anthropology. Psychology draws its name from the root ψυχή (psychē), a Greek word whose use can encompass the physical, the psychological, and the immaterial (i.e., “soul”) aspects of humanity. In both clinical and experimental expressions, the nature and functioning of human beings is the central concern of psychology. The word theology comes from the root word θεός (theos), or “God.” In its most restrictive use, the word theology is concerned with the nature of God and with God’s relationship to the world. As the word is now used, the discipline of theology encompasses all of the beliefs or doctrines of a given religion. Scripture, of course, holds a central place in the development of doctrine. Since the place of human beings is a major focus of Christian revelation, and since much of Scripture is explicitly concerned with the condition and nature of human beings, philosophical anthropology is a central concern of Christian theology. The manner in which psychology and theology approach their common subject is a point that we will now develop further. One Subject, Two Perspectives A foundational assumption for the integration of psychology and Christianity is that we can gain knowledge about the nature and functioning of human beings both from Scripture (as we develop a biblical anthropology) and from science (as we look at the theories and findings of psychology and other social sciences). Although psychology and theology have a common interest in human beings, they approach the topic with different assumptions (implicit and explicit), methodologies, hypotheses, and goals. Table 7.1 provides a summary of these differences, followed by an extended discussion of how these differences allow us to develop a more complete philosophical anthropology. Psychological Perspectives Psychology as a science is based on the premises that the world is an orderly place in which observation can lead to awareness of the regularities of phenomena (including human behavior) and that some degree of predictability is possible given these regularities. As a science, psychology employs methodological naturalism, that is, it seeks natural explanations for the phenomena it investigates. This does not rule out explanations other than naturalistic ones. However, the use of methodological naturalism limits the focus of its questions and its explanatory hypotheses to natural explanations. “Psychology is the study of the mind and behavior. The discipline embraces all aspects of the human experience—from the functions of the brain to the actions of nations, from child development to care for the aged. In every conceivable setting from scientific research centers to mental healthcare services, “the understanding of behavior” is the enterprise of psychologists.” —American Psychological Association While much of modern psychology is built on a scientific approach to studying behavior, it is also built on the metaphysical assumptions of those who study and practice psychology. To say that psychology utilizes scientific inquiry does not mean that it is free from bias or that it leads to incontrovertible proof. To think scientifically is simply to utilize the “perceptions, inferences, and memories of a community examining reality from a particular point of view,” notably, one that makes use of the scientific method. Psychologists primarily utilize two epistemic frameworks for understanding their subject: empiricism and rational discourse. Psychologists do not rely solely on the scientific method. We have already seen that they rely on reason to develop theories and analyze data. Their worldviews, their personal experiences, and their education (including the historical development of ideas in academia) shape their theories. TABLE 7.1: Psychological and Theological Approaches to Philosophical Anthropology Assumptions & Exemplar Categories Methodologies Organization of findings Ideals & Goals PSYCHOLOGY The world is knowable and predictable Methodological Naturalism Biopsycho-social perspective Empiricism Rational Inquiry Theories Understanding Improving life by reducing suffffering and optimizing ideal conditions THEOLOGY God’s revealed word (the Bible) is discernible, and is the guide for faith and practice Natural and supernatural explanations Humans are created in the image of God, finite, and fallen Hermeneutics Natural Theology Rational Inquiry Systematic Theology Understanding Salvation Sanctification Meaning Stewardship Worship Psychologists rely on reason to develop and analyze ideas. Psychologists use reason to develop theories, primarily through inductive logic, as we saw in chapter 5. Empirical studies produce data that are analyzed with rational thought, primarily utilizing deductive logic. However, we would be naïve to overlook the influence exerted by the assumptions of the theorist’s worldview, epistemology, cosmology, metaphysics, and philosophical anthropology. Such assumptions impact how theories are created and evaluated. Every psychologist grounds his or her psychology in a philosophical system, whether or not it is explicitly articulated or carefully considered; every psychology is done from an antecedent worldview perspective. Yet psychology, as a science, rigorously attempts to rely on observable data in developing and evaluating theories. Research approaches to psychology attempt to learn about human and animal behavior and mental processes by collecting and evaluating quantifiable data. Researchers describe phenomena using case studies, surveys, and naturalistic observation. They quantify data that can be systematically evaluated. Non-experimental theorists typically use observational methods to gather data, but they organize their observations utilizing rational inquiry (for instance, a personality theorist may logically infer the functions that meaning plays in organizing and motivating behavior). Experimental and nonexperimental approaches result in theories that organize the observations of the theorist. Experimental methods take this a step further. Theories guide the development of hypotheses that attempt to predict what will happen under certain conditions. The hypothesis is tested by manipulating a variable of interest (such as level of frustration). Other variables are held constant (such as age of the subject). The experimenter creates a situation in which the effects of the manipulation can be observed (such as exposing some subjects to frustrating circumstances and others to a control condition), and then coding and comparing the number of aggressive behaviors that occurred in each group. The hypotheses must be posited in falsifiable terms (i.e., predictions must be framed in such a way that the results can be seen to either support the hypothesis or not). It is important to note that not all psychological theories are experimentally verifiable, and some psychological methodologies are non-empirical. Furthermore, although experimental data help us to test theories, other theories may emerge that explain the data more accurately or more completely. In fact, scientific advances often occur when new theories challenge existing theories; such challenges help us to accept or modify useful theories and to discard theories that are less effective, elegant, or parsimonious. Finally, we need to know the goals of psychology. Its principal goals, ideally, are increased knowledge and the improvement of human life by the reduction of suffering or the optimizing of conditions under which human beings flourish. The first goal is motivated by curiosity and the desire to understand the world. The second goal is motivated by compassion (for instance, concern for people suffering from depression or dementia) and by the desire to optimize human potentials (e.g., to help organizations develop cultures that foster productivity and employee satisfaction). Yet we must hasten to add that vices such as arrogance, pride, desire for recognition, and other failings are the constant nemeses of the ideals for which psychologists strive. Christian theology is the study of Christian belief and practice. Its primary sources include the Christian Bible, as well as Church tradition. Rather than just being an intellectual endeavor, Christian theology is expressed through how Christians conceptualize God’s activity in the world and, in turn, how we understand ourselves and God’s call for how we should live in the world. Christian Perspectives Christian theology, like psychology, proceeds from its own foundational assumptions. Christian theology sees God’s revealed Word as discernible, and views it as the guide for faith and practice. While most psychologists are committed to methodological naturalism (investigating phenomena by looking for naturalistic explanations), Christians assume that both natural and supernatural explanations may be helpful in understanding phenomena. For instance, Leviticus 13 contains extensive instructions for determining whether a skin infection is leprous or not based on naturalistic observations. While leprosy was typically understood as a natural phenomenon (leading to ceremonial uncleanness and expulsion from the community to quarantine disease), there were occasions when leprosy was seen as a supernatural curse (e.g., the leprous condition of Miriam (see Numbers 12), Gehazi (see 2 Kings 5), and Uzziah (see 2 Chronicles 26). Christian theology is developed and organized around concepts such as creation, sin, grace, redemption, and revelation. Knowledge about such topics is sought through interpretation and application of source materials (notably the Bible), utilizing hermeneutical methods. Theologians also draw on natural theology, attempting to discern theological truths from the observation of the created realm. Additionally theologians, like psychologists, make use of rational inquiry; this is especially evident in medieval scholars such as Thomas Aquinas, whose Summa Theologiae is as much a dialogue with Aristotelian and Neoplatonic philosophy as it is an exegesis of Scripture. Various theological systems reflect the historical development of Christian thinking from within diverse Christian traditions (e.g., Roman Cathtems reflect the historical development of Christian thinking from within diverse Christian traditions (e.g., Roman Catholic, Reformed, Anabaptist, Wesleyan, etc.). Every theologian grounds his or her theology in a philosophical system, whether or not it is explicitly articulated or carefully considered; every theology is done from an antecedent worldview perspective. While theological studies certainly can (and often should) alter one’s worldview perspective, it is naïve to deny that we possess epistemic, cosmological, and anthropological assumptions at the outset that influence how we construct our theological understanding. The corpus of theological findings is arranged into systematic theologies that, much like theories, attempt to organize the observations of the theologian about a variety of topics. Each systematic theology represents the viewpoint of a particular theologian or school of theology. Some of these perspectives carry the consensus of “orthodoxy,” some of them diverge from orthodoxy, and others focus on issues that are seen as speculative or peripheral to the core doctrines of the faith. Theology, like psychology, is motivated by a quest for understanding. Theology, like psychology, is motivated by compassion, but it has a longer view that includes eternal concerns in addition to temporal concerns. It expresses a quest for spiritual wholeness and reconciliation in considering topics like salvation and sanctification. Christianity supplies meaning and purpose for life, as well as a motivation to meet tangible temporal needs. While Christian theology undeniably contains cognitive elements, it is crucial to remember that Christianity is also incarnational. Doctrine that is not lived out in relationship and identity is not fully Christian. Christian theology seeks to understand how human beings can be reconciled to God, how human beings can deal with sin, and how human beings can find meaning in life. Theology, and any undertaking for the Christian, should be motivated by stewardship and worship. Unfortunately, arrogance, pride, desire for recognition, and other vices that tempt the psychologist, likewise hinder the theologian; we are all sinful human beings with mixed and impure motives. “We cannot know the whole truth, which belongs to God alone, but our task nevertheless is to seek to know what is true.” —Wendell Berry Psychology and Theology: Variations on a Theme It is important to note that psychology and theology study different variations of the same topic when they look at human nature. As Malcolm Jeeves wisely cautioned: “The psychologist researching human behavior can only take us as he finds us. Any questions of what we might have been like, had there never been a Fall, sit firmly in the domain of the theologian. He writes about our fallen nature, our sinful nature, our unregenerate nature, and so on.” Another British pioneer in the interface of theology and psychology put it this way: “We cannot discover, by inspection of large numbers of specimens of humanity as it exists, still less by introspection, what is ‘normal’ or ‘proper’ human spiritual functioning. There are no unspoiled specimens of the species available for inspection.” This reality constrains psychology to observe humanity as it currently exists. Christian theology reflects on humanity as it is, but it also has access to some information about how humanity was intended to be before the Fall, and on the moral decrees of how we ought to live. Rather than being antithetical or irrelevant to each other, psychology and Christian theology can be of use to each other. By using both disciplines, we can gain a more complete view of humanity than we can from just one vantage point. In the Introduction to this book I described a tree that looked perfectly healthy from one perspective but was obviously diseased when seen from another perspective. Likewise, theology may tell us about certain aspects of humanity (created in the image of God, fallen, tainted by sin), but psychology may be able to tell us how this fallenness is expressed in distorted thinking and relationships (defense mechanisms and unhealthy patterns of relating). Conversely, psychology may be able to describe human beings as they are, but only Christian theology can describe them as they were intended to be. Again, only theology can answer questions of ultimate concern (e.g., how did we come to be, what is our purpose, what is our destiny?). Having painted the broad contours of the two disciplines, we can begin to ask how both of them can contribute to the creation of a sound philosophical anthropology. “The biopsychosocial model is both a philosophy of clinical care and a practical clinical guide. Philosophically, it is a way of understanding how suffering, disease, and illness are affected by multiple levels of organization, from the societal to the molecular. At the practical level, it is a way of understanding the patient’s subjective experience as an essential contributor to accurate diagnosis, health outcomes, and humane care.” —Borrell-Carrió, Suchman, and Epstein Philosophical Anthropology: Psychological Perspectives In recent years, the phrase “bio-psychosocial perspective” has become a convenient rubric under which to organize the complexity of the myriad factors that influence human behavior. We are biological beings, shaped by genetic inheritance and the organization and health of our neurological structures. We have rich inner lives of diverse dispositions, motivations, cognitive abilities and processes, intrapsychic dynamics, and reinforcement histories. We are also social creatures, affected by our social and cultural environments. Together these elements help us understand normal phenomena (like memory construction, neurological function, and social attraction) and abnormal psychological occurrences (such as pseudo-memories, Alzheimer’s disease, and dysfunctional relationships). Unfortunately, much of the work on the integration of Christianity and psychology has focused narrowly on what we know about human functioning from the perspective of clinical psychology while neglecting the majority of the discipline of psychology (e.g., neuropsychology, social psychology, developmental psychology, learning, sensation and perception). A brief outline of the contours of the discipline of psychology will help us to shape a fuller understanding of psychological approaches to human nature and functioning. Drawing loosely on David Myers’s enumeration of the current perspectives through which psychology is studied, we will look at biological, behavioral, cognitive, sociocultural, evolutionary, and psychodynamic approaches. The realization that psychological events are simultaneously biological events is the foundation of modern biological psychology. The human nervous system is a wonderfully complex system that we are beginning to understand not only at the gross anatomical level (where we can discern the workings of the sensory and motor strips, and the effects of damage to Broca’s and Wernicke’s areas) but also at the neuroanatomical level (where we can determine the mechanisms of neural transmission and the consequences of functional deficiencies of serotonin). Behavioral genetics, likewise, has given us a key to understanding the heritability of traits ranging from shyness to schizophrenia. We can, to some degree, separate the origins of biological structure and function into their antecedent sources (nature and nurture). For the unwary, however, it is easy to fall into a trap of biological reductionism by assuming that every psychological event is exhaustively explicable in biological terms. While we must admit that the biological paradigm is a powerful one, we must also resist the temptation to see it as all encompassing. Psychology’s behavioral perspective is concerned with analyzing how external factors, such as rewards and punishment, influence the acquisition or extinction of behavior. Behavioral psychology studies learning under a variety of models utilizing both human and animal subjects. The major models of behaviorism are classical conditioning (originating in the work of Ivan Pavlov), operant conditioning (à la B. F. Skinner), and observational learning (from Albert Bandura’s social-learning theory). On another cutting edge of psychology is cognitive psychology (which should not to be confused with cognitive therapy). Cognitive psychologists study how information is processed, stored, and retrieved. Obviously, there is some significant overlap with the biological perspective, since such processing, storage, and retrieval are biological events. The difference, however, is that cognitive psychology focuses less on the biology of these phenomena and more on the circumstances under which they occur, the internal processes that facilitate or inhibit information processing (e.g., attention, perception, memory, learning), the content of cognition as mental representation, and so forth. There is also overlap with the behavioral perspective, but whereas most behaviorists are principally concerned with identifying external stimuli and reinforcers of behavior, cognitive psychologists are interested in the processes that lead to such connections and in what happens within the mind. The sociocultural perspective of psychology is interested in how behavior is shaped by social phenomena, such as culture, affiliation, or awareness that one is being observed. Here too there is overlap, particularly with Bandura’s social-learning theory. Human beings are, by nature, social creatures, and we are both the shapers of societies and shaped by our societies, able to influence the behavior of others, and influenced by others in our own thoughts and actions. Religious belief is sometimes studied as a social phenomenon, but it can also be studied as an intrapsychic phenomenon, or its effects on mental and physical health evaluated. Conditions that foster or inhibit religious belief and change can also be considered. The relative newcomer to psychology’s perspectives is the evolutionary perspective. Utilizing an evolutionary paradigm, this perspective asks how various behaviors, biological processes, and cognitive mechanisms may have been influenced by their survival value. This perspective has some unique obstacles, not the least of which is that its theories are necessarily post hoc and thus typically untestable by scientific means. Perhaps the oldest of psychology’s perspectives is the psychodynamic approach. While the name Sigmund Freud springs to mind, the word psychodynamic is here used in a broader sense than applying to Freud’s theories alone, although he is the major figure associated with this approach in modern times. The psychodynamic approach asks about the role of intrapsychic phenomena such as unconscious conflicts, innate drives, defense mechanisms, and so forth. It is also concerned with intrapsychic experiences, such as one’s image of God, beliefs about the world, and so forth. Within and between each of the perspectives from which the study of psychology is approached, competing theories vie with each other to offer the best or most comprehensive theory of how a given psychological phenomenon works. Theories differ regarding explanatory processes, how evidence is gathered and evaluated, and on presuppositions that the theorists bring to the table. As an example, in personality theory, theorists differ on their assumptions about whether human nature is basically good or bad; whether nature or nurture is more important; whether human beings are free agents or largely determined; whether behavior is governed more by past events or future goals; and so forth. These are largely assumptive issues that theorists bring to the study of personality. Of course, our observations can confirm both sides of the issues in most cases, because human beings are exceptionally complex and exasperatingly inconsistent. Theologians must also confront the complex and inconsistent nature of human beings, though they frame the issues on different grounds, as we shall see. Psychology has so many diverse perspectives not only because theorists differ regarding their assumptions, but also because its subject matter is so complex. An appreciation of this complexity leads to the conclusion that psychology’s perspectives are more complementary than incompatible. The mysterious twists and turns of human behavior form a Gordian knot that can be viewed in terms of biology, environmental reinforcement, cognitive processes, social influences, adaptive value, and psychodynamic processes. Each of these domains has a place in shaping human behavior, and hence only a comprehensive understanding of them can satisfactorily account for the complexities of our subject. “Truth is truth, whether it is spoken by the lips of Jesus or Balaam’s donkey.” —attributed to George MacDonald You might notice that clinical psychology is not even included as one of the major perspectives of psychology. While clinical psychology is a subfield of psychology (as are industrial and organizational psychology and neuropsychology), it is not itself a perspective through which the entire field is viewed. Rather, clinical psychology asks how the methods and findings of the major psychological perspectives help us to organize our understanding of psychological disorders, to explicate the factors that facilitate or harm psychological health, and to evaluate the efficacy of interventions for people who have psychological disorders. Given that clinical psychology is the area that dominates the field of psychology (at least in terms of the number of doctorates awarded), and that its subject matter often brings it into contact with theological issues, it is not surprising that the integrative literature has been spurred heavily by this important but small subfield of psychology. Nonetheless, we are well advised to heed the counsel of Malcolm Jeeves: “Any claim to talk about the integration of psychology and Christian belief must deal with psychology as it actually is today. It will not do to confine our discussion to some small section … and fail to take account of the vast majority of the psychological landscape.” In heeding Jeeves’s advice, we should recognize the importance of clinical psychology to our discussion, but not allow it to dominate the conversation. What does psychology provide us in terms of philosophical anthropology? Psychology provides a framework from which to think about the complexity of human nature and functioning. It encompasses theories developed from a variety of perspectives, utilizing diverse epistemic methods, all in an attempt to provide a fuller picture of humans as biological, psychological, and social beings. Psychology also provides data about human beings that can only be gained from empirical inquiry. Although the methods and source materials of theology differ from those of psychology, it shares many of the same goals and limitations. Theology, instead of organizing its observations around a bio-psycho-social framework, will arrange its observations of human nature in terms of a finite creature, fashioned in the image of God, and corrupted by sin. Philosophical Anthropology: Theological Perspectives Although psychology has much to teach us about human behavior, it cannot provide the larger context that gives meaning and direction for life itself. Pope Benedict XVI in his encyclical Caritas in Veritatate (Charity in Truth) put it succinctly: “Without God man neither knows which way to go, nor even understands who he is.” Theological reflection thus provides us with access to a dimension that is essential to understanding who we are, our relationship with God, and how we ought to live, among other things. A Christian view of humanity begins with wonder and awe. J. Gresham Machen, reflecting on the personhood of the first created man, marveled at the mystery: “What a stupendous mystery that is! Here is man, a finite creature, product of God’s creative hand, walking here upon this earth in a body made of the dust of the ground … [and he] possesses the strange and terrible gift of personal freedom, and is capable of personal companionship with the infinite and eternal God.” Whatever else it may offer, a Christian view of humanity provides a sense of awe that must result in praise of our Creator. “The self is curved inward, cut off from God and from the neighbor, and therefore ultimately cut off from true self-understanding as well.” —Brian Gregor, A Philosophical Anthropology of the Cross When theologians turn their attention to the study of human nature, they confront the same obstacle faced by psychologists: they become both the investigator and the object of investigation. Theology professor Millard J. Erickson notes the unique problems that this creates for the theologian: “The doctrine of humanity has an unusual status. Here the student of theology is also its object … Our anthropology will determine how we understand ourselves and, consequently, how we do theology, or even what theology is, that is, to the degree that it is thought of as a human activity.” The critique that psychology is “sinful human beings sinfully thinking about sinful human beings” applies equally to theologians who are concerned with philosophical anthropology. As such, careful consideration of the assumptions that are brought to the table by theologians is also required. Theological perspectives on philosophical anthropology, like their psychological counterparts, are diverse interpretations based on the data available for inspection. In this case, the diverse interpretations represent various theological traditions in the way that biblical sources are understood. As Johnson and Webber put it, “While the Scriptures are unequivocal about the pervasive nature of sin in all human persons, a precise theory about sin is not fully articulated within the pages of the Bible. One will look in vain through the prophets, the Gospels, or the epistles to find a theological explanation regarding the nature of man. The Scriptures proclaim, they do not explain. The proclamation is everywhere the same: man is fallen and in desperate need of grace.” Theological understanding of human nature reflects foundational Scriptures about human nature and the historical development of various theological traditions as they have attempted to come to grips with the teachings of Scripture. The primary biblical texts regarding the nature of humanity are contained in the first three chapters of the book of Genesis. There are, however, many additional texts that are significant to the topic because they comment on such things as the purpose of human life (e.g., to glorify God; Isa 43:7), the capacity of human beings for evil and self-deception (e.g., Jer 17:9), the position of human beings in the created order (e.g., Ps 8:3–8), and so forth. The accounts of Creation and Fall found in Genesis introduce a number of important concepts. First, human beings are created, and are therefore a part of the creation; they owe their lives and allegiance to the Creator. That human beings are finite, limited, and related to the rest of the created order is taken as a given. This includes the ideas that they are created as social beings (“male and female”), interdependent, given a procreative mandate, and granted stewardship over all of creation. Second, although they are creatures, they uniquely bear the image of God, the imago Dei. Third, they are fallen creatures, tempted by sin, having willfully chosen to act on forbidden desires. What follows is a brief compendium of some core conclusions about human nature and functioning organized around the understanding of humanity as finite creatures, image-bearers, and fallen beings. Humans as Finite Creatures Most theology texts deal extensively with the conceptualization of human beings as made in the image of God and as sinners, but provide relatively little attention to the conceptualization of human beings as finite creatures. Whatever the reason for this oversight, it is an onerous one. As C. Stephen Evans noted, “No Christian view of man can afford to ignore the fact that man is solidly part of nature. That man is dust, a bodily creature, makes this especially evident. It is bodily existence which serves as a forceful reminder of man’s general creatureliness and the limitations which go with that status.” Niebuhr too pointed to the importance of human creatureliness: “The obvious fact is that man is a child of nature, subject to its vicissitudes, compelled by its necessities, driven by its impulses, and confined within the brevity of the years which nature permits its varied organic form, allowing them some, but not too much, latitude.” There is an unwarranted tendency to view this creatureliness in a negative light. Niebuhr argued that the built-in limitations of our creatureliness should be understood as part of the design of human nature that was declared “good” by our creator: “The Biblical view is that finiteness, dependence, and the insufficiency of man’s mortal life are facts which belong to God’s plan of creation and must be accepted with reverence and humility.” One of the few evangelical theologians to deal extensively with the meaning of our creatureliness, Millard J. Erickson, posited nine implications of this doctrine, which are summarized below. 1. Human beings are designed to praise and serve their Creator, and are dependent upon God for all that they are and all that they have. 2. “That we are part of creation also means that we have much in common with the other creatures. This commonality means that there is some validity in [psychology’s] attempt to understand humanity by studying animals. For just like animals humans and their motivations are subject to the laws of creation.” 3. Humans exercise a unique place of stewardship within the created realm. 4. We are all part of one human family, which calls us to care for and empathize with one another. 5. The wonder and complexity of the human creature and human achievements are not ends in themselves, but are to be used to glorify God. 6. Human finitude means that there are limitations of our abilities and our knowledge. 7. Limitations are not necessarily bad; having made humanity with limitations, God yet pronounced His creation “very good.” 8. Awareness of our finitude is necessary to healthy adjustment and should result in humility. 9. “Humanity is, nonetheless, something wonderful. Although they are creatures, humans are the highest among them, the only ones made in the image of God.” The awareness that we are finite creatures, dependent upon God for our abilities and for our very being, should cause us to stand in awe of our Creator, to be grateful to Him, and to willingly offer our praise and service to Him. We should recognize our similarities to the creation over which we are to exercise stewardship. We should appreciate our interdependence as a human family. We should humbly acknowledge our finitude, even as we acknowledge that we alone among the creation are created in the image of God. Christian theology provides a unique view of our creatureliness that adds to our understanding of human nature. It helps us see that we our dependent on God and that having a proper relationship with Him is integral to our well being. Christian theology also helps us see our relatedness to each other and to the larger created realm, with all of the responsibilities that entails. Our limitations and our abilities should be used to recognize our dependence on God and to give Him praise. While Christian theology informs us about our status as creatures, it also enlightens us about our unique status within the creation as bearers of God’s image, as we will now see. Humanity as Imago Dei The exact meaning of the imago Dei has been the subject of much theological reflection and debate. To understand it accurately, we must take into account the literary, symbolic, and cultural context of the relevant passages (Gen 1:26–27; 5:1; 9:6; 1 Cor 11:7; Jas 3:9, and a handful of ancient extrabiblical texts). The implications of the biblical claim that we are created in the image of God is a difficult task because of the sparse context that the relevant passages provide. Major interpretations of the imago Dei can be categorized as structural, functional, and relational views. In the structural (or substantive) view, the focus is on a characteristic that we might share with God, such as reason, spirituality, or existence. In the functional view, human beings are seen as those who act as God’s representatives in the creation, naming and caring for the other creatures, for instance. In the relational view, the focus is on the social characteristics that God and human beings share; the Trinity is an expression of God’s relationship, and human beings are made male and female, and flourish best when they are in right relationship with each other and with God. The medieval Scholastics, following Augustine, understood the imago Dei as reflecting both image and likeness. “According to Augustine, image relates to the cognitio veritatis, and likeness to the amor virtutis; the former to the intellectual, and the latter to the moral faculties.” In other words, Augustine and those who followed in his tradition understood the image of God as the human capacities of reason and moral agency. Hodge believed that the words image and likeness were mutually explanatory (“an image which he is like”), making Augustine’s distinction superfluous, but nonetheless accurately portraying the content of the imago Dei. The imago Dei must be understood as corporately reflected by all of humanity and individually displayed in each of its members. Acknowledging that human persons are the very image of God has important implications for how we ought to regard each and every human being, and our responsibilities to the entirety of our human family. “The distinguishing mark of humanity, which is designated by the expression ‘the image of God,’ is far-reaching, extending to all humans. In the sight of God, all humans are equal. The distinctions of race, social status, and sex are of no significance to him (Gal 3:28). Salvation, eternal life, and fellowship with God are available to all persons. And because this is the case, Christians should show the same impartial interest in and concern for all humans, regardless of the incidentals of their lives (James 2:9).” Wayne Grudem expresses the viewpoint that to be the image of God means that we represent God and that we, in ways unspecified by the text, are like God. These likenesses might possibly include such things as moral accountability, spirituality, intellect and language, and relationality. Christian theology informs us about our uniqueness within the creation in a way that no other perspective does. Knowing that we are created in the image of God should cause us to be humble at the position that we occupy within the creation as God’s image-bearers. It should cause us to treat one another with respect, and to carry out our responsibility to care for one another, for, no matter how sinful we might be, we are still the bearer of God’s very image. Humanity as Fallen Being We are finite creatures, connected to the dust of the earth and the rest of creation. We are the very image of God. And we are sinful, fallen human beings. Christian theology insists on all three of these truths. In the Genesis account of the Fall, Adam and Eve transgressed God’s command by performing the only act forbidden to them, thus setting themselves up as an authority superior to God, a position for which they were ill equipped. In Hodge’s view, the immediate effects of Adam and Eve’s willful disobedience was shame and dread of God’s displeasure, leading them to hide. The ultimate consequence was not only their personal expulsion from paradise, but the imputation of their sin upon all of their offspring. “To love someone means to see him as God intended him.” —Fyodor Dostoevsky Grudem, as well as many other theologians, believes that the image of God was not destroyed by the Fall, but the effects of the Fall were widespread. “As a result of the Fall, however, the image is distorted, though not destroyed. His moral purity has been lost and his sinful character certainly does not reflect God’s holiness. His intellect is corrupted by falsehood and misunderstanding; his speech no longer continually glorifies God; his relationships are often governed by selfishness rather than love, and so forth. Though man is still in the image of God, in every aspect of life some parts of that image have been distorted or lost.” Neo-orthodox and liberal theologians typically deny the historicity of the Fall but still maintain its depiction of a world torn asunder. Paul Tillich, for instance, denied the existence of a utopian creation. He conceptualized the Fall not as an actual event but as the pervasive human experience of alienation. Whether or not one finds Tillich’s theological position compelling, he effectively described this existential estrangement: “The state of existence is the state of estrangement. Man is estranged from the ground of his being, from others, and from himself. The transition from essence to existence results in personal guilt and universal tragedy … Man as he exists is not what he essentially is and ought to be.” Tillich, the quintessential existentialist, pointed out the guilt and despair of finding ourselves separated from God, from our fellow human beings, and from our selves. Emil Brunner expressed the essential estrangement that gave rise to Tillich’s existential experience in describing what he called the “contradiction of man,” that is, “that he is at one and the same time created by God for God, and has turned away from him.” This “turning away” has radical consequences in one’s relationship to God, oneself, and one’s neighbor. As Erickson observed, “Sin has very serious consequences when it comes to the relationship between the sinner and God. These results include divine disfavor, guilt, punishment, and death. Physical death, spiritual death, and eternal death flow from the consequences of sin. Sin also has consequences that affect the individual sinner. These include enslavement, flight from reality, denial of sin, self-deceit, insensitivity, self-centeredness, and restlessness. These effects on the sinner also have social implications in competition, inability to empathize, rejection of authority, and inability to love.” Additionally, we must acknowledge that sin is not only individual, but also corporate or communal. Individual sin is something with which each of us is all too familiar. The ancient Christian church summarized the seven deadly sins as lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, anger, envy, and pride. Several scriptural passages provide a list of individual sins. For instance, the epistle to the Galatians warns against “acts of the sinful nature” such as “sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like” (Gal 5:19–21, NIV). It is obvious that most of the sins listed above are committed by individuals. However, some sins are practiced so widely that they become corporate sins that are embedded in one’s culture. Idolatry, for instance, can become so common in a culture that few individuals realize that it is a sin. Someone who grew up in a pagan culture may never question whether ancestor worship is wrong. Likewise many of us who grew up in materialistic cultures may never question whether our attachment to money and material objects is idolatrous. Communal sins are particularly hard to notice because one’s peers comfortably practice them: “We may be so conditioned by membership in a group that our very perception of reality is colored by it … This conditioning is something so subtle and thoroughgoing that we may not be aware that there is a given side of a given issue, or even that there is an issue at all.” Things such as racism, prejudice, materialism, discrimination, loosening of sexual standards, and many other sins are hard to see when they are embedded within one’s culture. The Roman Catholic Church, in particular, has done a good job of pointing out the social and cultural dimensions of sin. “The Church forcefully maintains this link between life ethics and social ethics, fully aware that ‘a society lacks solid foundations when, on the one hand, it asserts values such as the dignity of the person, justice and peace, but then, on the other hand, radically acts to the contrary by allowing or tolerating a variety of ways in which human life is devalued and violated, especially where it is weak or marginalized.’ ” The Roman Catholic Church expresses grave concern about individualism, sexual ethics, respect for human life, economic oppression, and a host of other issues that are shaped by social attitudes. Whether individual or communal, the effects of sin are pervasive. Sin affects our relationships to God. Sin has negative consequences for the individual. Sin alienates us from each other and causes suffering among those who are caught in the wake of other people’s sins. The entire created realm has been marred by sin through sickness and death. Christian theology helps us see this aspect of human nature with sobering clarity, but it also proclaims the solution to our terrible situation. While there is tremendous diversity of theological interpretation regarding the nature of human beings, “there is at least a consensus that man is made in the image of God, that Adam’s Fall has resulted in disastrous consequences for the entire human race, and that Jesus Christ is the Second Adam” through whom we can be reconciled to God. We are creatures, we are image bearers, and we are sinners living in a broken world. We are, indeed, complex and contradictory creatures. Summary In the Christian view, human beings are, quite literally, works of art, composed by the hand of God. Throughout this book we have seen how Christian theology and other disciplines, including psychology, can help us view the world from different but complementary perspectives. To change the metaphor somewhat, we might want to think of Christian theology and psychology as instruments in an orchestra. It is not surprising that, despite their differences in methodology, psychological and theological perspectives on philosophical anthropology have a considerable degree of harmony. Sometimes they share the melody, although the sounds of each instrument are distinct. Sometimes one instrument plays the melody, while the other offers a complex harmony that weaves around the unadorned, central tune. Occasionally one instrument or another has a solo part, allowing it to play a score unique to the resonance of its instrument. Unfortunately, sometimes one player or another in the orchestra misreads the score, and the momentary cacophony upsets the music. The score itself is complicated, reflecting the majesty and wonder of a creation made in the image of the composer and proclaimed by the master to be very good, with built in limitations of a finite creature, but with the dissonant and somber sounds of sin and disease. A psychological perspective provides an understanding of humans as bio-psycho-social beings. Our biology is complex, awe-inspiring, but sometimes broken. We have incredible, awe-inspiring abilities, but we also have built-in limitations. These capacities and limitations express the goodness of creation. The fall, and the effects of our own sin and the sins of others, have altered human nature, adding personal distress, brokenness, and alienation to our experience. We are relational beings, with social capacities and needs. A biblical anthropology serves to ground human value in the acknowledgment that we are bearers of God’s image, fearfully and wonderfully made. We have limitations as creatures and are dependent on God for our existence. We suffer from the damaging effects of the Fall and from personal and corporate sin. Just like the musical score of an orchestra, the score of our lives is complex. Only through reading it to the best of our ability can we hope to obtain an inkling of understanding of who we are. David N. Entwistle, Integrative Approaches to Psychology and Christianity: An Introduction to Worldview Issues, Philosophical Foundations, and Models of Integration, Third Edition. (Cascade, 2015), 142–163.
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