Volume 5, Issue 2

The Columbia

Crown & Cross Volume 5, Issue 2 STA F F

C ON T RI BU TOR S

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

STAFF EDITORS

E S S AYS

Tiffany Li SEAS ’19

Nathaniel Wyatt CC ’20

Jade Thompson BC ’21 Kyra Dawkins CC ’20 Daniel Lee SEAS ’20 Sunny Chen CC ’20

WEBMASTER

LAYOUT EDITORS

Nadine Wagner CC ’19

Lina Tian CC ’19 Sean Kim CC ’20 Tiffany Li SEAS ’19 Nadine Wagner CC ’19

Karis Cha CC ’22 Steven Horst, Ph.D. Sean Kim CC ’20 Daniel Lee SEAS ’20 Haidun Liu CC ’19 Elijah Schultz CC ’19 Hanhee Song WU ’17 Lina Tian CC ’19

MANAGING EDITOR

BUSINESS MANAGER Canwen Xu CC ’20

ONLINE EDITORS

POEMS Samuel Jones CC ’21 Hyacinth Byron-Cox, Ph.D.

Sean Kim CC ’20 Benjamin Jaimes CC ’21 Karis Cha CC ’22 Lina Tian CC ’19

If you are interested in getting involved, e-mail us at columbiacrowncross@gmail.com Check out our blog and print issues online at crowncross.org Like our Facebook page: facebook.com/columbiacrowncross Special thanks to Christian Union

A Letter from the Editors When we were deciding upon a theme for this semester’s issue, the mind kept coming up—not the word itself, but similar, relevant forms. Suggested topics such as mental health, spiritual discipline, intellectualism, psychology, and happiness all somehow led us back to the mind. For example, mental health is a uniquely resonant issue, particularly at a university such as Columbia, and we wanted to begin to provide an answer to the questions: how should Christians respond to mental illness? Should it be any different from a secular point of view?

Another topic that we considered was intellectualism and its relationship with Christianity. We asked: how can philosophy further Christianity and how does Christianity explain ideas in philosophy such as the mind and body dualism? How do Christians view the application of “the mind” in science?

Can the Christian view of the mind be reconciled with the scientific one?

Furthermore, many passages throughout the Bible place importance upon the mind, such as in Paul’s words to the Philippians: “complete my joy by being of the same mind” (Philippians 2:2). Yet more questions are brought up—is there any one Christian mind? How does it differ from that of nonChristians? The mind is often placed next to the heart, soul, and spirit, so what precisely is the role of the mind in the Christian faith—is it less important than the heart, and how does it interact with other aspects? And, finally, what does it mean to love the Lord with all your mind (Matthew 22:37)?

Our theme this semester, “With all Your Mind,” takes direct inspiration from Matthew 22:37 and aims to begin to answer these and many more questions. This issue’s contributors have written essays and poetry on topics that they consider integral to the mind. Haidun Liu explains Alvin Plantinga’s philosophy of religious exclusivism and why we can reasonably believe in one religion even without fully disproving others. Karis Cha discusses a gospel-integrated framework for psychotherapy and her positive experiences with it. Hanhee Song writes about the role that Christianity plays in transforming the desires of the mind, from selfish to altruistic. And Dr. Steven Horst follows the parallels and differences between the mind in New Testament and Greek thought, as well as the importance of the Holy Spirit taking residence in our minds.

We welcome people of all backgrounds and beliefs to join us in considering God’s impact on the mind and, more broadly, our lives. We do not claim to have covered every aspect of the mind or provide directions on how Christians should act, but we we did seek a collection of approaches to the many levels on which we can interact with the concept of the mind. And we hope to prompt further discussion about Christianity and the mind, and shed some light on its significance to us as Christians. Our dedicated team has worked tirelessly and joyfully on this issue, and we hope you will discover something in these pages that will comfort you, challenge you, and resonate with you all at once.

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Essays

Poetry & Art 12 Whoever Wants to Be My Disciple Samuel Jones

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Should I Doubt My Religion Because There are Others?

Haidun Liu

26 Heart Hyacinth Byron-Cox

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For Better, Or For Worse? Christian Worship Music and the Risks of Accessibility Sean Kim

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Understanding and Reasoning Faith: Our Sword Daniel Lee

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A Normal Answer to Life’s Abnormalities Lina Tian

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The Mind in New Testament and Greek Patristic Thought Steven Horst

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The Masks We Wear Hanhee Song

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A Gospel-Integrated Framework for Psychotherapy Karis Cha

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Choice of Axioms and the Axiom of Choice Elijah Schultz

Front and Back Cover Sean Kim, Lina Tian

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Should I Doubt My Religion Because There are Others?

T

he poet T. S. Eliot’s conversion to Christianity drew praise from one of my professors, “because for Eliot, it does not entail that any other religion is false.” I highly doubt that the Anglo-Catholic held such a progressive version of the Christian faith; nonetheless, my professor exemplifies what the philosopher Alvin Plantinga calls “a fairly widespread apprehension that there is something seriously wrong with exclusivism”1— that is, holding on to a religious belief to the exclusion of all alternative religious beliefs, even when these alternatives are not yet disproven.

Some believe in one God; some believe in many; some believe that God is the world itself; some believe that we will all become Gods. Any or none of these beliefs could be true—reason alone cannot establish or refute any of them beyond doubt, whatever that may look like.

How should one respond to this diversity of 1 Alvin Plantinga, “A Defense of Religious Exclusivism,” in The Analytic Theist: An Alvin Plantinga Reader, (Grand Rapids: W.B. Eerdmans, 1998).

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Haidun Liu

possibilities? Exclusivists stand firm in their religion until it is proven wrong. They may consider other religions, but from where they stand—acknowledging that they already believe in one religion to the exclusion of all others. Although exclusivists do not have sufficient reason to reject all the other options, they do so anyway.

Is exclusivism reasonable?

If none of the views on the table are conclusively proven or disproven, should we not treat all of them equally, by either accepting all or rejecting all? Therefore one alternative to exclusivism is accepting all religions with a relativist mindset. For relativists, believing in one religion does not involve rejecting all other religions.

Relativists either hold that many religions are true, or say that this one is true for me, while that one may be true for you. Relativism is what my professor attributed (dubitably, I think) to T. S. Eliot: I am a Christian, but I do not judge whether other religions are true or false.

Relativists often compare religions to cultural customs: I eat with chopsticks but do not demonize those who eat with forks.

Relativism appears to be the most moral response to the plurality of religions. Empathy seems to require affirming as many perspectives as we can. Contradicting a religion entails deeming the values and commitments of entire nations and cultures groundless and pathetic— it is rather cruel. These moral concerns partially explain the popularity of relativism among today’s religious youths. In the 2007 National Study of Youth and Religion, in which 65% of the interviewees identify as Christians, only 27% agreed that “Only one religion is true,” while 59% agreed that “Many religions may be true.”

Relativism captivated my high school self, desperate as I was to reconcile my family’s Buddhism with my newfound conviction in Christianity. Over dinner with a Tibetan Buddhist abbot, I asked him whether a Christian can also believe that Buddhism is true.

His answer was no. Buddhism and Christianity make incompatible claims about important questions; so does every pair of religions. There is no such thing as total reconciliation: what would it even mean to say that something is simultaneously green all over and blue all over—and what would it mean to say that Jesus Christ is God and that he is not? Since it is impossible to consciously affirm contradictory claims, the only way one can reconcile two different religions is to ignore the fact that they are making claims at all. This can be done by regarding religions as sets of customs or folklore; indeed, if a religion is just a story told to inspire us, or a noble lie told to rationalize morality, what is the problem with having two at once?

But doing so is the very opposite of taking religions seriously. Religions claim to describe reality. To respect them, one at least has to consider them as what they say they are—beliefs, worldviews, truth claims. Indeed, every religion is more than a set of claims and beliefs, not any less. Since religions make incompatible sets of truth claims, it logically follows that only one or zero of them can be true. The great paradox is that those who reject all religions actually pay them greater respect than those who try to affirm them all.

So another response to the diversity of religions is to reject them all. As Jean Bodin wrote, given the diversity of religions, “each is refuted by all.”2 There are two arguments for this response: first, one should not hold a position until one knows with certainty that all conflicting alternatives are false. Since many religions could be true (i.e. they are not conclusively disproved), one should not believe in any of them. Second, the diversity of religions also demonstrates the unreliability of faith itself: if I were born in 12th century Japan, I 2

probably would not have been a Christian.3 So if the same act of faith can result in a Muslim, a Christian, a Buddhist, a Jew, a Hindu, a Roman pagan, or an Aztec, depending on the time and place of its occurrence, it seems to be a great mistake to put much stake in its outcome.

These two arguments can also support a close relative of the reject-all response: that of suspending one’s judgement. The diversity of religions may not require rejecting them all, but we should at least suspend our judgement on such a debatable issue, neither claiming that any particular religion is true, nor claiming that every religion is false.

Since religions make incompatible sets of claims, it logically follows that only one or zero of them can be true.

One may have already observed that the first argument is based on a rather arbitrary standard, and perhaps unwarrantedly strict too. Why must we accept the principle that one should not take any position as long as there are possible alternatives to it? Scientists do not: every accepted scientific theory has alternatives which cannot be demonstrated as false. And as Plantinga 3

John Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005), 2.

Plantinga, “A Defense.”

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observes, “The variety of philosophical belief rivals that of religion: there are Platonists, nominalists, Aristotelians, Thomists, pragmatists, naturalists, theists, continental philosophers, existentialists, analytic philosophers (who also come in many varieties).” Should philosophers shrug and go home because “each is refuted by all”?

Why must we accept the principle that one should not take any position as long as there are possible alternatives to it? Scientists do not: every accepted scientific theory has alternatives which cannot be demonstrated as false.

Against the second argument, Plantinga pointed out that if I were born in, say, 12th century Japan, it would be just as unlikely for me to have been an atheist or agnostic, as to have been a Christian. If this argument puts any pressure on religious belief, should it not do the same for unbelief?

One may retort that religious belief is based on faith, whereas atheism and agnosticism is based on reason, and since the argument challenges the reliability of faith as a way of knowing, it leaves atheism and agnosticism unscathed. But it is far from clear that atheism and agnosticism do not require faith. Whether atheism

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is compatible with reason is also an open question, since some of the most accomplished philosophers— Ancient Greek and Christian—believed that they have conclusively demonstrated the existence of God.4 Most importantly, Plantinga points out that the principles behind the “reject-all” and “suspendjudgement” responses to religious diversity are self-defeating. The principle underlying the “rejectall” approach is that when faced with a diversity of positions, none of which is conclusively ruled out, one should reject all of them. The principle underlying the “suspend-judgement” approach is that in such a situation one should suspend judgement, neither adopting nor rejecting any position. By contrast, the principle underlying the “exclusivist” approach is that one should keep one’s current position in spite of the possibility that some other position is true. Why should we limit the application of these principles to religious diversity? We have another kind of diversity right before our eyes: the very diversity of approaches one can take in response to diversity itself.

Just as there are a variety of possible religious beliefs (Hinduism, Christianity, Islam, etc.), there are a variety of possible approaches for responding to religious diversity, including exclusivism, “reject-all”, and “suspendjudgement.” So can the “reject-all” and “suspend4

See, for example, Five Proofs for the Existence of God by Edward Feser.

judgement” principles withstand being applied to themselves? The “reject-all” principle, as applied to the diversity of approaches, demands the rejection of all possible approaches.

The “suspendjudgement” principle demands refraining from either adopting or rejecting any of the approaches. But what do these demands even mean? You can tell those dazzled by the diversity of religious options that the reasonable response is to abandon all beliefs, or hold their judgements in suspense; the problem, though, is that to apply your principles consistently, you would also have to tell them not to respond. Advocates of the “reject-all” and “suspendjudgement” responses to diversity are really just exclusivists, one level down.

Instead of dismissing a question just because many answers are possible, the more diligent course of action is to investigate the options.

A powerful motivation to avoid religious exclusivism is the intuition that if a given set of positions have not been demonstrated as either true or false, the intellectually honest response is to treat all of them equally. To exclusively hold on to one whether it be chosen by oneself or given at birth—seems arbitrary. But the fact that many religions are possible does not mean that they are all equally possible. With the little we know, we may not be able to demonstrate beyond a shadow of doubt the truthfulness or falsity of a certain religion, but we can gather clues or hints for or against it, making it more or less likely true. Instead of dismissing a question just because many answers are possible, the more diligent course of action is to investigate the options. For example, we can survey arguments from the apologists of various religions.5 Instead of fantasizing a view-fromnowhere on the important questions of life, it is far

more honest and productive to acknowledge that we always already have some premonition, or prejudice if you would like, of where the answer may lie.6 These can be more or less definite, and we may hold them with greater or less confidence; exclusivism is simply to hold rather definite beliefs with a substantial degree of confidence. Exclusivism does not entail ceasing to learn about the other positions, or sticking to what we currently believe no matter what. It simply means that the presence of alternative positions is not a good enough reason to give up our own.

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Nobel-Prize Laureate and chemist Michael Polanyi describes how scientists are led in their research by a “hunch” or aesthetic intuition of how the truth would look like.

Haidun Liu (CC ’19) is a senior in Columbia College studying Philosophy.

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Classics in Christian Apology include Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis and Summa Contra Gentiles by St. Thomas Aquinas. I leave the recommendation of apologetic works for other religions, and works challenging various religions, to your friends who adopt the respective points of view.

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W

hen I try to talk about Christian music with other people, I often hear that Christian music today is “bad.” When pressed for detail, they usually cite similar reasons: “It’s repetitive,” “It’s not exciting,” and “It’s too simple” are three of the most common ones. These observations aren’t even wrong most of the time, and critics of Christian music are correct insofar as “good” and “bad” music is defined by one’s own personal taste. To a large extent, it is; the amount of disagreement we have about what good music is reveals the inherently subjective nature of goodness.

However, that’s not the whole story. Fans of particular genres will know that there is actually an objective hierarchy of musical value. Take jazz, for instance.

Most jazz aficionados would agree that there are some musicians that are almost universally considered to be at the top of the jazz world, because of their status as pioneers or their unmatched musical skill; Louis Armstrong and John Coltrane are two of them. The same thinking applies to other genres as well, including Christian music. Most people don’t normally think of J. S. Bach as a Christian musician, but he wrote music for his church throughout his entire career (including over 350 chorales). Christian music has had its stars just like any other genre, and over time, these musicians have brought about an understanding of what good Christian music could be.

The way that we hold up certain musicians as standard-bearers of their genre shows that notions of goodness are largely confined to existing within particular genres. Thus a good jazz musician is not necessarily a good classical musician, a good classical musician is not always a good rock musician, and so on.

So what, then, is good Christian music?

A peek into its history reveals that Christian music has always been concerned with the notion of authenticity. Plainchant, which is the oldest known form of Christian music, had self-imposed musical restrictions that allowed it to be a pure expression of praise, untainted by vulgar intervals; at least that’s what its practitioners believed. As time passed, Christian music grew more diverse, but the belief that it needed to be a “true” expression remained: a good piece of Christian music was one that either enabled or represented an authentic expression of Christian faith.

In particular, the “enabling” of authentic expression is especially important within Christian music because so much of it aims to encourage the listener’s participation in the form of singing. Singing Christian songs is not just an enjoyable activity for Christians, but also a way to verbally affirm what they believe, both to

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For Better, Or

Christian Worship Music Risks of Accessibility Sean Kim

themselves and to others. This plays into the concept of good Christian music, since often the best Christian songs are the ones that are the most meaningful when sung. Writers of such songs cater to this correlation by creating music that is accessible to the average layperson.

This emphasis on music that can be sung explains some of the differences between Christian music and the music we listen to for pleasure. Much of Christian music tends to be easy to sing and easy to remember, which explains why it is “repetitive” and “simple.”

But that isn’t to say that it’s bad, since we’ve seen that Christian music has much different standards from other forms of music. Instead, bad Christian music can be thought of as music that either is ineffective in enabling authentic expressions of faith, or is itself an inauthentic expression of faith.

Unfortunately, in the past few decades there has been an increase in the latter kind of bad Christian music; this has come from a decades-long process of commercialization that coincided with the development of the Christian worship music genre. Although today’s Christian music is not bad for the reasons commonly assumed, there are real issues with it, due to both commercialization and the separation of worship music from the church; by understanding how we got to this

point, we can take the right steps to make it better.

As the name implies, worship music aims to bring listeners to a posture of worship by allowing them to affirm central truths of Christian doctrine and offer praise to the Almighty. Before the development of worship music, Christian music was mostly limited to hymns, gospel, or classical music such as those aforementioned Bach chorales. This type of music was thought to be only for the purpose of praising God, while worship was considered a separate, more private act. During the twentieth century, however, the idea emerged that singing with the congregation was in itself an act of worship. Songs were soon written that encouraged congregations to worship in this way, and they became known as the first Praise and Worship songs.1 This genre eventually became the most popular genre within Christian music.

As the use of music distribution technology increased during the latter half of the twentieth century, a financial and creative incentive to bring Christian worship music to a broader audience soon arose. While this meant that even non-believers were eventually able to listen to and appreciate worship music, it also resulted in a detachment of worship music from its original setting, the church.

Before the invention of music recording technology, 1

Leon Neto, “Contemporary Christian Music and the ‘Praise and Worship’ Style,” Journal of Singing 67, no. 2 (2010): 195-200.

For Worse?

and the

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most Christian music was only accessible in an actual church, usually on Sundays. Singing was always an integral aspect and was practiced either by the entire congregation or by the choir. The act of singing together reflected the unity of the church in worshipping God and built up fellowship within the congregation.

Unfortunately, in the past few decades there has been an increase in the latter kind of bad Christian music; this has come from a decades-long process of commercialization that coincided with the development of the Christian worship music genre.

Aiming to recreate this church experience, many producers of Christian music began to simulate the church setting by controlling the sound of the music itself. Perhaps the most prominent outcome of this experiment was a greater emphasis on live recordings rather than recordings done in the studio. By recording the bands live and implementing audio effects such as reverb to give the listener a feeling of being in a large space, music producers could bring the soundscape of a Christian worship service directly to the listener at no extra cost. This was seen as better for listeners as well, since they could now participate in a “live” service from the comfort of their home. Such changes in worship music production indicate a fundamental shift in the way that worship music was consumed; before, Praise and Worship songs were commonly sung in the church, but now they were mostly listened to at the consumer’s convenience.

While the intentions to reach more people with worship music were noble, the expansion of worship music from church to home allowed economic factors to come into play with regards to its production, which ironically contributed to its commercialization. Creators of worship music that had previously made music just for their local churches were now tasked with appealing

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to a much larger market. Crucially, in order to maintain this expanded audience, they not only had to sustain themselves financially but also make a profit for the record companies whose contracts they were under.

Their priority was no longer just to make music; it was now to make both music and money.

This shift in priorities inevitably led to a commodification of worship music that continues to this day. The modern-day popular worship band is increasingly concerned with marketing, focused on producing ever-greater quantities of music, and more reluctant to stray from previous models of success. This results in the kind of music that is often criticized today: formulaic, cliched songs that show not musical growth but rather musical stagnation. Of course, this kind of criticism does not deter many people from listening to and enjoying such music, including myself. Yet I am still concerned about the fall in reputation that Christian worship music seems to have suffered, and even more so about its loss of authenticity. The Christian music machine is big, and it seems to run more on money than on the Holy Spirit.

Here I’d like to point out that some criticisms of modern worship music are less valid than others.

In particular, complaints about the inauthenticity of newer styles just because they are new don’t seem to be very persuasive, since even the hymns of yore were just as fresh in their own time. On the other hand, the

unfamiliar nature of older hymns, as well as their more archaic language, prevents many young people today from gleaning as much meaning from them as they would from more contemporary songs. This makes it even more important that modern worship music be maintained and cared about; it is often a vital source of spiritual nourishment.

The modern-day popular worship band is increasingly concerned with marketing, focused on producing ever-greater quantities of music, and more reluctant to stray from previous models of success.

How can we improve our worship music, then? A solution may be found in a renewed emphasis on holiness.

Holiness is the state of being dedicated to God, and a holy object is usually one that has been “set apart” from other things; in other words, an effort has been made to mark the object as different from others like it. In earlier times, the holiness of worship music was clear just from its exclusivity. The church was where people gathered to be in fellowship with each other, and the music that was played in church reflected the special relationship they had to God. The live aesthetic of today’s recorded worship music attempts to reflect this as well, but it falls short of enabling true fellowship with other Christians.

Worship music today would benefit greatly from being more exclusive to the church setting and thus more set apart, as it was in the past. This centering of worship music in the church would affirm the desire to be in community and encourage community-building within the church. Worship music should also emphasize live performance at church, as this would build up the belief that worship is a communal activity and not just an individual one. The performers of worship music should ideally be congregants themselves and be mindful of the particular needs of their own congregation, as well as its musical preferences. The body of Christ is endlessly diverse, and this diversity should be reflected in its music.

Overall, a more localized and therefore holier worship music experience would decrease the role of money in worship music and thereby preserve its authenticity for future generations.

None of this is to say that we should stop listening to worship music on our own. The freedom we have to listen to what we enjoy is ours to act upon, and the joy of connection with our God is not something that should be taken away. My hope is that as we listen to music that brings us closer to Him, we may also be brought closer to each other. Such music would be a holy blessing.

Sean Kim (CC ’20) loves to serve God in all the ways he can. He philosophizes about music occasionally.

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Whoever Wants to Be My Disciple Samuel Jones Wake and arise, battle awaits your heart.

Three hundred pounds of wood to be carried, Sinews of beastly timber relentlessly Bearing down guilt, stirring thoughts deep buried.

Muscles ache, blood sprints, the will pants, and you Blindly stare at your unmoving crucifix.

The path to Golgotha lined with brambles, Stinging insults, thorns, hisses, clicks.

And yet a white shadow lifts up your cross, Soothing your frail, cramping body with anointing Oil that pours through your soul, doting grace.

Impossibly the shadow lightens the wood, Beam becomes ash as he takes your place.

Wake and arise, the battle has been won.

Samuel Jones is a sophomore in Columbia College pursuing a major in Literature and Economics. He was born and bred in London, England. He also loves Luke 9:23.

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Understanding and Reasoning Faith: Our Sword Daniel Lee

I

n Christianity, one’s journey of salvation begins with a step called faith—faith in God’s existence. Yet, the journey isn’t an easy course; it’s full of difficulties, trials, and doubts. Thus, faith starts to bear a different meaning once this journey begins: that is, faith in God’s character and His promises. Even though one may believe in His existence, one may end up asking, “How can this go well?” One will still struggle to have faith in God’s sovereign power and the good promises He has for the end.

Indeed, it is hard to reason God’s existence in a scientific manner that can convince all. However, that doesn’t mean that the faith that comes after the start of the journey is also hard to reason. If we take the assumption that the Christian God exists, then it is possible to logically trace how what Christians believe in makes sense. In this essay, I will attempt to reason how the definition of the latter faith is not so unreasonable or unscientific, and how we can use it to strengthen ourselves. I will unpack the concept of faith in Hebrews 11:1 to make my point. I hope that this can help my fellow Christians understand faith more tangibly and therefore grant greater power and stability in their walks of obedience.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.1 As mentioned above, I start from the assumption that the Christian God exists. The Bible tells us that God is the Creator of the Universe, Love itself, and the Almighty. With this assumption made, we can understand Hebrews 11:1 intellectually and receive much blessing from the verse.

If God is the Creator, he created the physical world, which is bounded in time, matter, and space. This means 1

Hebrews 11:1.

that He is outside and above time, matter, and space; I will call His dwelling place a “spiritual” realm. This can be visualized into a set of sets:

Spiritual

Physical

This relationship tells us that everything of, about, and in the physical world has a causal relationship to the spiritual world. If there is anything about the physical world that has no causation from the spiritual world, then the physical world must not be made by God. As an illustration, take the recent drought in California. If we ask the Creator of the physical world about why He gave drought to California, and He says, “It was not me,” this means there was some other force that was beyond God’s domain. When I pondered upon this, it reminded me of calculus—how a function has a direct effect on its derivative function. Any arithmetic operation Volume 5 | Issue 2 13

done to the derivative function results in a change in its antiderivative. Thus, the relationship between the physical and the spiritual realm shows that everything from depression to rain has some sort of spiritual cause.

Because of the boundaries around the physical world, we have a hard time fully comprehending God. To be more exact, we cannot comprehend God, because that would mean that the finite human mind can perceive the infinite God, thereby contradicting the assumption that God is the Creator. For example, as seen in the Book of Job, we cannot question God’s goodness and righteousness when our definition of “good” is not right with that of God’s.2 However, for His grace, purpose, and love, He gives us faith to bridge the gap between how much we can perceive and who God truly is. Unfortunately, so long as the gap itself is infinitely wide, it is hard to see how faith can be intellectually understood.

Now to Hebrews 11:1.

How is faith the “substance of things hoped for”?

Does one hope when hope is not present?

Well, let’s go back to our assumptions. We have agreed that God is Love and He is the Creator, thus being outside time, space, and matter. Now, suppose that there exists a righteous man whom God loves, and the righteous

man hopes for something that seems right to God as well. God does not take three minutes to ponder upon how to give what the man hopes for and choose the oneday delivery option. God is not bounded in time; there is no concept of time in the spiritual realm. Therefore, if God likes what the man is hoping for, it was, is, and will be approved in the spiritual realm. This must be the reason why Jesus said, “Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours,” with one verb, “received,” in the past tense and the other, “will,” in the future tense.3 Indeed, it will take time for a hope to be realized in the physical world. It can be realized immediately, after a few hours, or in a few years, but the fact that it has already been given doesn’t change. Perhaps, the time that it takes to be granted is a part of His answer. Therefore, faith is the substance of things one hopes for, as they already came true in the timeless spiritual realm.

Now then, how is faith the “evidence of things not seen”? Isn’t evidence, by definition, visible?

The illustration below was what helped me to visualize and understand this part.

The solar system is (almost) flat when we look at it from its side. However, Albert Einstein theorized that a mass bends spacetime. Therefore, our solar system follows a mechanic that is not visible to us. If you have ever tried a spiral wishing well, you would know what happens to the coin when you insert it in the funnel: it keeps going around in a circle until it loses its energy and falls through the hole. That is what happens to the

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3

The Bible tells us that the God is the Creator of the Universe, Love itself, and the Almighty.

Job 40:8.

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Mark 11:24.

planets around the Sun; they revolve around the Sun because the Sun greatly bends spacetime. This intricate law of nature is more real than what is observed to our eyes. Likewise, if the Christian God is true and living, followers’ faith in Truth is indeed the evidence of things not seen; we cannot see the spiritual realm, but it is a reality, truer than the visible one.

If God likes what the man is hoping for, it was, is, and will be approved in the spiritual realm.

If God is beyond our perception, it is only by faith that we can know Him, and that faith is not only granted

by God but also pursued by us. Neither our intelligence, senses, nor hearts can fully contain Him. Only faith is the instrument to understand Him. We cannot prove the existence of God with the scientific method because that’s an ineligible measure for God. But our faith during the journey is very reasonable, contrary to how the secular world sees it, when the cornerstone of His existence is firm. Faith opens our spiritual eyes to see what our physical eyes fail to see—the truer invisible workings of the spiritual realm.

Dear brothers and sisters who have been gifted with God’s grace to believe in Him, this understanding is an encouragement to us. When we accept this truth and

hold fast to Hebrews 11:1, we can recognize that time is what tests our faith. God’s decision to bless us, adorn us, love us, and endow us with gifts did not and does not change. The decision has been made, and Christ has claimed our victory. It is us who need to remain faithful to Him. Therefore, we cannot let ourselves be fooled that His faithfulness and love has changed just because our hopes are taking too long to be realized. That time delay will make His answer even more beautiful as it will align perfectly with other blessings He had prepared in our lives. So, hold fast to the Truth, and let not Satan fool you with his lies that he will whisper in your ears during this time. Pray in the time of doubt so that you will not fall into temptation,4 and be strong when encountering new opportunities, fears, challenges, or environments, since what you have hoped for is already accomplished by your faith. This is our sword against the lies of Satan.

4

Luke 22:40.

Daniel Lee (SEAS ’20) loves to understand the world from God’s perspective. He loves to reason phenomena in the world and behaviors of people from a spiritual sense.

Volume 5 | Issue 2 15

A Normal Answer to Life’s Abnormalities

F

Lina Tian

or a while now, I have been trying to find the exact English translation for the Chinese word “ji tuo (寄托).” I have consulted a couple of Chinese– English dictionaries and have asked for definitions from my friends, but there is no one English word that can capture the essence of “ji tuo.” According to a source on Baidu Baike (a Chinese online encyclopedia), “ji tuo” originally meant to entrust something important to another person for a period of time, and has now extended its meaning to be an imagined and unrealistic spiritual ideal that one’s mind and soul can rest on when feeling depressed, sad, and lost.1 It is a medicine for the soul and a means to fill the vanity of the heart. People with “ji tuo” feel grounded and happy and have an easier way to an efficient and high-quality life.

My special attention to this word originated from many experiences I had when I told my friends and family in China about my conversion to Christianity.

Many of them had a similar reaction. They congratulated me and said, “I’m glad you have a ‘ji tuo.’” At that point, my family and I had been battling against my anxiety and depression for four years. We were exhausted, and all we wanted was a solution that could relieve me from all the pain and suffering. As a result, my conversion to a well-known religion was a good news for everyone— now, my soul and my mind would at least be settled.

They believed that once I had a “ji tuo,” somehow all the problems in my life would be answered and solved.

Something magical and mysterious happened in that

1

Baidu Baike, s.v. “寄托 (Ji tuo),” (accessed January 10, 2019). https:// baike.baidu.com/item/%E5%AF%84%E6%89%98/18629?fr=aladdin.

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black box that is the Christian God, and I came out the other side with an easier and less painful life.

It was eight years ago when I had first realized that there was something wrong with me mentally. During the first day of high school, while other students seemed to have no problem understanding class material, I could not concentrate on or interpret anything the teacher said, no matter how hard I tried. My mind was entirely occupied by thoughts about how fast my heart was beating, how much blood was rushing into my head, and how horrible the consequences would be if I kept dwelling on these thoughts. It was a vicious circle—the more I zoomed in on my physical condition, the more anxious I became. Soon after, I was diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and mood disorder. I had to take a gap year.

Many times during the gap year, I thought about ending my life. The only reason that kept me alive was that I was too scared to end it. My fight against anxiety and depression was painful and tiresome—talk therapy, appointments with my psychiatrist, visits to a Buddhist monk, and so on. My family and I tried every method we could find. I was ashamed of myself and of everything about my mental disability. It was not just a mental “problem”—it was a disease, a disease that could never be cured, and one that made me hate myself. The world is so unfair—why did it have to be me? What have I done that the world had to abandon me? I felt lonely and helpless. So I left my hometown, hoping to leave my past behind. I came to the US looking for a cure, and three

years later, I found one. But it was much different from what I had imagined.

I found God. Many of my friends were happy for me, but in their minds, this was how my conversion happened: I was too weak, so I was defeated by mental problems; I was too unassured, so I needed to find a security blanket; I was too desperate, so I would settle for anything that gave me comfort. In some ways, they were right—I was not strong or self-assured. Ever since I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression, I was caught up with the fact that I was weaker than everyone else. To me, normal meant no mental diseases. As a result, I believed that I was the abnormal one and that I needed to try everything to revert my condition back to normal. I spent most of my time trying to become stronger and more secure, only to discover after many failures that I could not do it on my own. However, Christianity tells a different story. What appears to be abnormal is actually a consequence of the human condition, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”2

My conversion to a well-known religion was a good news for everyone—now, my soul and my mind would at least be settled.

Finally, I had the courage to face all my mental problems and say—yes, I am all that, but it is okay, because “[all] are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.”3 It turned out that I was never alone, both because not being able to make it with my own strength was part of being human, and because there had always been a Heavenly Father who looked after me, listened to me, and sent his own Son to redeem me. The years I spent suffering from and battling against anxiety and depression helped me to see how sinful and powerless I was and how much I needed a savior. To know that there is a savior was to let go of my perfectionist obsession to control every detail of my life and to let go of my need to be strong and “normal” with my own power. So my friends were right: I was weak and incapable. But through Christianity, I became okay with it, because I now know that weakness is the human reality, and that the blood Christ shed for all of humanity is also the reality. The burden and shame I once felt because of my “abnormality” was lifted up, and all I needed to do was to give my yoke to Him and rely on His power to sustain and strengthen me. I can gladly boast of my weaknesses, and be content with weaknesses, insults, 2 3

Romans 3:23.

Romans 3:24.

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hardships, persecutions, and calamities. “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”4 Though my friends were right about how weak I was, they did not fully understand how my desperation led me to God. When they heard about my conversion, they equated God to a form of “ji tuo”—God as an elixir for all my pain and suffering. So, in desperation, I went for it. However, unlike what they imagined, Christianity was never a fast cure for my anxiety and depression.

My life did not become happy and efficient all of a sudden. In fact, I constantly struggle with my mental problems to this day. There are times that I feel helpless and destroyed. I also go to a psychiatrist and have tried different antidepressants in the hopes that one of them may alleviate my conditions. It is true that God gives me comfort and security, but God is not a magician; He is a miracle maker. He does not trick us into believing Him when everything is just an illusion. He does not deceive our senses and make us think that all is well. Instead, He almost brutally exposes to us what is wrong with this world and opens a door to true salvation through the miracle named Jesus.

From the Christian perspective, the reality of the world is that it is never meant to be where we should be. When God created human beings, He intended for us to live with Him. However, as a result of Sin, we had to leave His presence because He could not tolerate our sinful natures. As long as we are alive on this earth, we will never feel completely at home, for through Jesus we have received a new home in Heaven. Christians are promised a lifetime of suffering as we struggle against the sins of this fallen world while obeying God’s commands from heaven. Like I said before, my life did not become any easier (as suggested by “ji tuo”) after my conversion 4

2 Corinthians 12:9-10.

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to Christianity. I did not find a magical tool to fix my life. Instead, I found a hope and a purpose.

I spent most of my time trying to become stronger and more secure, only to discover after many failures that I could not do it on my own.

A Christian hope is not wishful thinking; it is an anticipation of something while knowing for sure that it will come. Nor does it give fulfillment according to earthly standards; it looks to the joy that is in heaven because that is the joy that can last forever. Everyone who believes in Jesus has this hope of eternal life and joy with our God in heaven. For Christians, all the afflictions and sufferings on this earth are only temporary. They are a result of us being in a foreign land. We know for sure that they will go away once we meet God in person and enjoy His glory forever in heaven. And gradually, this hope becomes the source of our strength to endure all struggles with joy in heart and mind. A Christian meaning is also different from an earthly one. Christians’ lives have meaning because God gave us meaning. We were not created out of chance or luck.

We were designed and crafted by God and made in the likeness of Him. Our life was intended to be meaningful from the start, and our purpose is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

Since becoming a Christian, whenever depression consumes me, I pray to God and am reminded that I am a child of God. My life is precious because an allpowerful God has given me a hope and a purpose. If I believe in Him and think He is more right than I am, then I have no right to end my own life because God intended my life to be good and meaningful. Even

though my whole world seems to be crumbling down sometimes, I know that there is a hope and promise that gives me the strength to run the race of life with endurance.

God is not a magician; He is a miracle maker. He does not trick us into believing Him when everything is just an illusion.

In the eight years that I have battled against mental disabilities, there were many times that I doubted my belief and wondered whether my faith was just another “ji tuo.” It is true that as a Christian, I can be confident in Jesus’ carrying my burdens with me, but it is not the case that my sinful nature is immediately purified as a result of faith. There are minor or major setbacks all the time. Christianity is not a magical vaccine that prevents us from being infected with the consequence of sin. Instead, a Christian life is a slow transition from complete depravity to improvement and sanctification.

In these eight years, I felt so many times that I was about to be crushed by life’s heavy load, but again and again, God strengthened me. Every time I wanted to give up, I prayed to God, and He answered me. The answer Christianity provides for my troubles is not a magical yet thoughtless relief; it is one that is normal yet profound.

My mental disability is normal, but God’s love for me is profound; I am weak yet He is strong. Belief in the redemption of sin by Jesus’ blood gave me courage to put down all the baggage and shame I had because of anxiety and depression, and knowledge in God’s power, love, and promise gave me power to start anew and endure whatever comes before me.

That being said, I am in no way trying to prove to

anyone through this essay that the Christian God is real.

When I shared to my friends how God had sustained me through my sufferings in life, some of them told me that they believed that only they could save themselves, and that whoever gave up and found a “ji tuo” in something implausible was undetermined and delusional. I think they are right to conclude that, given their worldview.

There is so much trouble, suffering, pain, and uncertainty in this world, and if we do not believe in an omnipotent being that can help us, we would have to believe in our own strength. I once believed in it too, but it resulted in a time without hope or purpose, and I lost the will to carry on. I broke down and gave in to mental disabilities.

But what if this world was created with a purpose?

What if all our sufferings in this world are a preparation for something much greater? What if it is okay that we are weak? What if we are never on our own? And what if there is a God who loves us and redeems us from the pit of sin and suffering even though we are unfaithful and incapable? The Christian God provides an answer for these questions through His son, Jesus Christ, and I believe God is real and active, and He loves and cares for His entire creation. I have had a bumpy life so far, and I know that my future is not going to be that smooth, either. But that is okay, because Jesus has got me. With these words, I only want to share my experience to show what kind of answer Christianity gives and what kind of life an imperfect Christian leads, in the hope that whoever hears my story can also find rest in God.

Lina (CC ‘19) studies Data Science but loves the humanities.

She also loves spending time pondering about her life and her faith. She is confused all the time, but she is willing to engage in discussion and improve in understanding.

Volume 5 | Issue 2 19

The Mind in New Testament and Greek Patristic Thought Steven Horst

When Western philosophers speak about “the mind,” they are often talking primarily or even exclusively about the intellect—about things like beliefs and reasoning.

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great deal of my intellectual life has been devoted to bringing together two sides of that life. One side consists in the things I do as a philosopher of mind: things like considering different theories of the nature of the mind (or soul, or self).

The other side of my life has been cultivating a life of prayer and trying to cooperate with God in the work of my sanctification, or being made holy. The connections are not always easy to make. For one thing, when Western philosophers speak about “the mind,” they are often talking primarily or even exclusively about the intellect—about things like beliefs and reasoning. Belief is certainly very important for Christians, and good reasoning can help us sort out what to believe and what God wishes us to do. Some of the Greek and Roman philosophers saw the cultivation of the soul primarily as a process of learning to reason well. But for the Christian, becoming holy—being sanctified—involves more than this. It involves the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, being transformed into the full image and likeness of God in Christ, and being filled with God’s love. You will not find the resources for talking about such things in contemporary philosophy of mind. Fortunately, there

have been Christian theologians and philosophers who have developed theories of their own. These draw upon some resources from classical philosophy (particularly Plato), but are grounded in Scripture and the experience of Christians who led reflective and holy lives. In this article, I shall explain one such theory, which was developed by Greek-speaking Church Fathers and is widely held among Eastern Orthodox Christians, but which I think recommends itself to Christians of all denominations (I am not myself Eastern Orthodox, but find in their writings some of the most edifying discussions I have found of the soul and the spiritual life).

But for the Christian, becoming holy—being sanctified—involves more than this. It involves the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, being transformed into the full image and likeness of God in Christ, and being filled with God’s love.

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Let us begin with the Bible. What does the New Testament say about the mind? The question is somewhat complicated by the fact that the koine Greek of the New Testament (NT) employs seven different words that can mean “mind” (nous, dianoia, synesis, noema, ennoia, phronema, phronesis), and how they are best translated depends upon context. In one place a word might best be translated as “mind,” in another as “understanding,” “thinking,” or “intellect.” In short, the NT writers do not seem to be using the different words as philosophers might, as technical terms with distinct meanings, but use them almost interchangeably, the way we might in ordinary language sometimes say “mind” and then in the next breath speak of the same thing but call it “understanding” or “intellect.”

Similarly, the Greek word for “heart” (kardia) sometimes seems to be indistinguishable in meaning from the words for “mind.” While we may think of “the heart” solely as the seat of emotion, in koine Greek the kardia is also understood to be an organ of thinking. If you are looking to the Bible for something like a philosophical theory of the mind, with careful philosophical distinctions between different faculties of the soul, you are likely to be disappointed. The New Testament writers were not engaged in philosophy of mind or theoretical psychology.

We do, however, find a different sort of emphasis in discussions of mind in the New Testament, particularly in Paul, one that is absent from what you would find in textbooks in philosophy or psychology.

Paul often speaks of the mind (for which his most frequent terms are nous and dianoia) in terms of its relation to two other things: the spirit (pneuma) and the flesh (sarx). John B. Taylor writes: As used by Paul, the word nous is contrasted both with pneuma, spirit, and with sarx, flesh. Perhaps it is for this reason that credence is still given to 22 Columbia Crown & Cross

the idea that man is a trichotomy consisting of mind, soul (or spirit) and flesh (or body). That, however, is not Paul’s teaching, for to Paul man is a unity: he is soma, he is body. Sometimes he is psyche, an individual, a personality. And yet there are two sides to his nature—there is the nous side and there is the sarx side. These two aspects of man represent the avenues by which

man’s personality is invaded: the nous can be invaded by the pneuma, the Spirit of God; the power of evil enters via the sarx, the flesh. The result is that if your nous is invaded by the Spirit of God, your spirit-filled mind keeps your flesh under control and you are describable as a pneumatikos, a spiritual person. On the other hand, if the power of evil enters through your flesh, your nous itself becomes depraved and

corrupted and you are describable as a sarkikos or sarkinos, fleshly person. So when in Romans 1:28 God gave men over to a reprobate nous, it was because they had allowed evil to invade their fleshly lives.1 The fundamental point here seems to be that the human mind can be in two very different conditions. It is

not be done.”2 The minds of fallen human beings are thoroughly enmeshed with the flesh. We may know of God and His commandments through the Law and the Prophets; but without the Spirit, our minds themselves are incapable of thinking in spiritual, but only in fleshly, ways. Christians receive the Holy Spirit when they are baptized, restoring the mind’s capacity to set itself upon spiritual things. But we Christians, and the Christians Paul was writing to, are still in a kind of battleground in which our minds are pulled one way by the Spirit and in an opposite direction by the flesh. And thus Paul exhorts his readers, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.”3

We may know of God and His commandments through the Law and the Prophets; but without the Spirit, our minds themselves are incapable of thinking in spiritual, but only in fleshly, ways.

capable of dwelling on God and spiritual things with the help of the Holy Spirit; and when it is in this condition, the whole person is set in order and we can live in a Godly way. Presumably, this was the state of Adam before the Fall and that of those who are sanctified in the Resurrection. But this capacity was lost in the Fall: “And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God gave them up to a debased mind and to things that should

It is notable how different Paul’s emphasis is from that of most philosophical discussions of the mind. For philosophers, what is most distinctive of the mind is what we might call intellect, the ability to reason. Paul was certainly not averse to reasoning—he engaged in debates with both Jewish scholars and Greco-Roman philosophers in his efforts to convert them. Classical philosophers also spoke of “conversion”—conversion to a philosophical way of life—but for them it was primarily an intellectual conversion. For Paul, reasoning might be of some use in clearing the ground for the Gospel, and perhaps even in persuading people of its reasonableness, but a person cannot be saved simply through good

1

2

John B. Taylor, “The Mind in NT Christianity,” TSF Bulletin 57 (Summer 1979): 1-3.

3

Romans 1:28.

Romans 12:2.

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reasoning. Rather, he must accept Christ and receive the Holy Spirit. Likewise, good reasoning may assist a believer in coming to an accurate understanding of God and salvation (and hence Paul argues over questions of Christian doctrine), but true understanding of spiritual matters comes only through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Reason may be among the tools we use to “test the spirits,”4 but it does not itself supply spiritual insight.

This comes only through the Spirit operating within us—that is, within our minds.

These ideas were further developed by some of the Church Fathers, some of whom were also Christian philosophers interested in formulating a more exact theoretical understanding of the soul and its sanctification. In this, they were informed not only

by Scripture, but also by several centuries of Christian spiritual practice (particularly developed in the monastic movement that began in the fourth century) and by theories of the soul first developed by pagan philosophers, particularly the Platonists and Neoplatonists. In Plato’s Republic, there is a brief passage (called “the Divided Line”) wherein Plato distinguishes different types of thinking, and perhaps different faculties of the soul. The most familiar distinction he makes is between rational thinking and thinking based in sensory images. But he also makes a further distinction between two types of rational thinking. One of these, dianoia, is what we might call reasoning—the sort of thing we do in working out the consequences of an argument, where we go from assumptions to conclusions. The other, noesis, involves direct apprehension of intelligible principles that Plato calls “the Forms,” most importantly the Form of the Good. Noesis is a higher form of thinking than dianoia, and one in which we are supposed to be directly in contact with higher principles. All of that reasoning and argumentation in the dialogs turns out to be a kind of preparation of the soul to receive higher principles.

True understanding of spiritual matters comes only through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

Now, while Plato does sometimes speak of the Forms as “divine,” this is not a Christian theory in its own right. There is no talk of salvation or the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. It is more like a process of polishing the lens of the soul so that its natural capacity to behold the Forms is unleashed. But there is something here that is potentially useful for Christians, particularly 4

1 John 4:1

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in distinguishing the spiritual-mindedness that Paul emphasizes from intellectual reasoning. The reasoning, calculating intellect can test and work out conclusions of what it already believes, but these beliefs can equally well be based in the Spirit or the flesh. A clever person can be very good at figuring out how to satisfy the desires of the flesh, and even to justify them. The calculating intellect—dianoia—is morally neutral. Understanding of God and spiritual truths requires something quite different: a kind of thinking that we are capable of only under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit dwelling within us. This is slightly different from Plato’s conception of apprehending the Forms directly, but it was natural for Christian thinkers to appropriate Plato’s terminology and call this mode of thinking noesis, and to make the corresponding Greek noun nous into a kind of technical term for the part or faculty of the soul whose function is to apprehend God and spiritual truths.

As a result, we see a change in the uses of the words for “mind”—nous and dianoia—in the Greek-speaking Fathers. As Father John Romanides writes, We should point out that there is a difference in terminology between St. Paul and the Fathers.

What St. Paul calls the nous is the same as what the Fathers call dianoia . . . When the Fathers use the word nous, the Apostle Paul uses the word “spirit” . . . And by the word nous, he means the intellect or reason.

In his phrase, “the Spirit of God bears witness to our spirit,” St. Paul speaks about two spirits: the Spirit of God and the human spirit. By some strange turn of events, what St. Paul meant by the human spirit later reappeared during the time of St. Makarios the Egyptian with the name nous, and only the words logos and dianoia continued to refer to man’s rational ability. This is how the nous came to be identified with spirit, that is, with the heart, since according to St. Paul, the heart is the place of man’s spirit.5 This basic understanding of the soul is a fairly common element of Eastern Orthodox thought (Though even there the terminology is often maddeningly variable.

What one writer calls nous, another calls “heart” or “(human) spirit,” and the word nous is itself translated into English in various ways). And it forms the basis of a Christian theory of the soul that helps make sense of the Fall and of sanctification.

5

John Romainides, Patristic Theology, (Uncut Mountain Press, 2008), chapter one.

On this view, there is a part of the soul, the nous, whose function is the apprehension of God and spiritual truths. It is, in fact, specifically in this part of the soul that the Holy Spirit was intended to dwell. When the Spirit inhabits the nous, the soul is illuminated and capable of communion with God and understanding spiritual principles. When we are in this state, the nous can also set our whole nature in order and overcome the passions of the flesh. When Adam and Eve insisted on their own will rather than God’s, effectively rejecting God’s presence and guidance, the Holy Spirit withdrew from them, leaving the nous darkened and their souls out of order. Without the illumination of the Holy Spirit, the nous is essentially inactive, leaving fallen humanity with only calculating reason (dianoia) and the passions of the flesh to guide it. A fallen human being is essentially a combination of animal passions and a computer mind, and is unaware that there is another part of our nature— indeed, the most important part—that is lying darkened and dormant. As Hierotheos Vlachos points out, this is essentially the Enlightenment view of human nature, though from a Christian perspective it is really the result of an “endarkenment” of the soul. Secular philosophy is necessarily blind to the part of our nature that can receive the Holy Spirit and understand God and spiritual things because it is inactive in our fallen condition and hence unobservable.

What happens when we are saved? Of course, our sins are forgiven. But equally importantly, the Holy Spirit comes to dwell within us, taking up residence in our nous and—to the extent that we turn ourselves towards God—enlightening the soul and taking control of the calculating intellect and the passions, thereby setting the soul into a state of holy order. The Holy Spirit guides us, sometimes in thoughts that can be put into words, and sometimes in insights too deep for words.

It also transforms our attitudes, replacing the passions with Godly love. Because God (the Holy Spirit) is truly within us, our own nature is transformed into a Godly nature, restoring the image and likeness that was lost in the Fall and changing us so that we take on Christ’s nature. And because God is love, we are transformed into loving beings as well. Like branches grafted onto a vine,6 we take on something of the nature of the True Vine.

This is necessarily a very brief introduction to what I have come to consider a very edifying Christian psychology. To the reader who wishes to explore it more deeply, I would commend Vlachos’ Orthodox Psychotherapy and Theophan the Recluse’s The Path to Salvation and The Spiritual Life.

6

The Holy Spirit comes to dwell within us, taking up residence in our nous and – to the extent that we turn ourselves towards God – enlightening the soul and taking control of the calculating intellect and the passions, thereby setting the soul into a state of holy order.

Steven Horst is a Professor of Philosophy at Wesleyan University. Horst came to Wesleyan in 1990 with a Ph.D. in Philosophy from the University of Notre Dame and a B.A. in Philosophy and Religion from Boston University. He has been a visiting scholar at Princeton (Philosophy), Stanford (Center for the Study of Language and Information) and Boston University (Center for Adaptive Systems), and has received research grants from the National Endowment for the Humanities and the Templeton Foundation.

John 15:5.

Volume 5 | Issue 2 25

Heart Hyacinth Byron-Cox Heart, soul and mind Interesting trilogy Subjects of in depth philosophy In ancient gardens pondered by the likes of Aristotle, Plato, Socrates Today still unsolved mysteries The heart—who can know it?

The topic of book, movie, script From prophet To Shakespeare, doctor to lover The heart makes an elusive drumbeat An organ like no other Sacrifice is made Accomplishments great When the heart is involved So much at stake Lives saved, lives taken Motives of the heart Steadfast, shaken From the abundance of the heart The mouth speaks In painful words or honey sweet Destroying the soul or elating the mind Stimulation of passion . . . vicious or kind The heart is a wild horse Powerful and free

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Can the soul tame the heart?

Or must it be taken captive by The endless essence of time . . .

The “be” in being . . .

The core of existence . . .

The quiet spiritual force . . .

Invincible.

Love with all your heart, soul . . . mind Indivisible.

The mind in serious contemplation struggles With matters of the heart and soul In a battle not easily won But certainly wonderful Cognitive framework of thoughtful equations X and Y Why? The answer lies in the far recess of my mind . . .

Knowing my mind in my mother’s womb Author and finisher from cradle to tomb Heart, soul and mind I am Fashioned in the image of The Great I Am Poignant questions float in the atmosphere The answer whispers: Draw near, draw near To light, truth and mercy, With all three, the connected trilogy.

Dr. Hyacinth Byron-Cox is a Professor of Social Sciences at Monroe College, New York. She received her M.S. from Mercy College and her Ph.D. in Psychology from Capella University.

She currently resides in Mount Vernon, NY with her three daughters—Mercedes, Jade and Chelsea—who keep her exceptionally busy, often reminding her that God’s grace is a necessity as well as a blessing.

Volume 5 | Issue 2 27

The Masks We Wear Hanhee Song

A

2007 survey of unchurched Americans by Lifeway revealed that 72% of people think the church is full of hypocrites, “people who criticize others for doing the same things they do themselves.”1 Another survey done by Barna in the same year on sentiment towards modern Christians ranked “hypocritical” at one of the three most common negative perceptions of Christians at a whopping 85%, behind “judgmental” at 87%.2 Given the harsh connotations, we are quick to disassociate with these terms; how many people would readily label themselves as hypocrites? After all, at least we don’t loudly announce all our donations while stealing from widows like the Pharisees of Jesus’ time did.

But if we step into a church, we can see why such 1 “Unchurched Americans Turned Off by Church, Open to Christians.” LifeWay Research, https://lifewayresearch.com/2008/01/09/ unchurched-americans-turned-off-by-church-open-to-christians/.

2 “A New Generation Expresses its Skepticism and Frustration with Christianity.” The Barna Group, https://www.barna.com/research/anew-generation-expresses-its-skepticism-and-frustration-withchristianity/.

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a sentiment exists. People are dressed in their “Sunday best;” they’re very friendly and welcoming, especially during that awkward moment when you’re supposed to greet the stranger next to you and warmly smile at them as though that isn’t the only interaction you’ll have with them for the rest of that week. Conversations are just a nicety wherein people share trivial life information they would normally share with anyone else in the public sphere: the grind at work, the upcoming midterms, the crazy plot twist in that show or the unbelievable comeback in last night’s game. No one is proclaiming their weaknesses, insecurities, or internal battles. No one is freely discussing how jaded or emotionally damaged they’ve become. We collectively have this subtle pressure to present ourselves well—a pressure so subtle that we could only feel it by pushing the bounds. We would instantly feel out of place were we to walk around wearing disheveled rags, tears streaming down our face, listing out each and every one of our embarrassing weaknesses. It would feel really awkward or inappropriate, and we don’t want to draw that kind of

attention. But it’s precisely those people who found their Why do we constantly pursue this image? There is place by Jesus’ side. Why is there such a discrepancy? something so intrinsically insufficient about the reality There’s a peculiar facade to life—this image of of who we are that we actively work to manipulate the who we are that we have to maintain and present to way others see us and even the way we see ourselves. others. And oftentimes, that image we attempt to We are forever in pursuit of that image—respectable, maintain and present to others or even ourselves are likable, principled, caring, and desirable—but we far from the whole reality. When we choose a picture always fall short of this ideal. To cover the gap, we try to post on social media, even though all the to inflate ourselves through the stories pictures from which we choose are we choose to tell, the pictures representations of reality, we we choose to share, and There is something so intrinsically are actively selecting one all the embarrassing insufficient about the reality of who we particular truth that information that we are that we actively work to manipulate we want to represent choose to hide. us. We are so A concern the way others see us and even the entrenched in this for others’ way we see ourselves. We are forever game of defining perception of us in pursuit of that image—respectable, ourselves that we is only half the don’t even think about story. More often likable, principled, caring, and what we don’t share: the than not, we are really desirable—but we always fall short of things that make us look seeking to skew our own this ideal. bad, reveal our weaknesses, or perceptions of who we are. As show how fallible we are. This well-curated someone who pursues an image of being representation of us, especially in (but not limited to) respectful and reliable, I’ve certainly lied about why I social media, is working so well that it often cited as a was running late to meet up with a friend when I had just major contributor to the lower rates of happiness and snoozed my alarm one too many times. Texting them, mental well-being among social media users due to the “I’ll be late because of the subway,” rolls off the thumbs a 3 skewed perceptions that the users have of others’ lives. lot easier than, “I’ll be late because I’m irresponsible and I value my sleep more than your time;” even “I’ll be late” 3 Helmut Appel et al, “The Interplay Between Facebook Use, Social with no explanation is preferable to accepting the blame.

Comparison, Envy, and Depression,” Current Opinion in Psychology 9 (2016): 44-49.

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After all, I want to believe that I am a dependable and caring friend, and the reality of me preferring sleep over you runs contrary to the image that I want to believe in.

It’s only fitting that I blame something outside of my control so that I can think more highly of myself than I really deserve.

While my underlying motives sound obvious in a retrospective narration, in reality, they’re much tricker to spot—how often do we consciously think about how we blame something else to protect our ego? Not too often. We fail to see our motives not because we can’t see them but because we don’t want to see them. It would only make sense—after all, we deceive to create a better image, and the way we achieve that better image is better left unquestioned. It would be contrary to the motives of our deceptions to debase ourselves by acknowledging our deceptiveness.

The only thing more awkward to say than, “I’ll be late because I’m irresponsible and I value my sleep more than your time” is, “I’ll be late because of the subway, except I’m just blaming the subway to childishly deflect blame away from my irresponsibility and lack of respect for your time.” I tried something similar with a good friend of mine; it was a tad awkward.

Rarely do we risk creating a negative impression by sharing a deep and serious weaknesses.

I share this simple anecdote to shed some light into the way we have been taught to interact in this society; naturally, everything has to be a net positive for us, if not neutral. Think about what information we share with acquaintances: our major, our studies, maybe some talent or accomplishment. Maybe we would share all 30 Columbia Crown & Cross

the things that are on our todo list—possibly an implicit call to look at how busy and diligent we are and admire how we can handle such a schedule. Maybe we would lightly disparage ourselves or our abilities—a subtle call for attention or affirmation, or maybe that’s how we envision humility.

Sometimes we share knowledge—a way of quietly impressing the other person or subconsciously feeling good about how much we know or how useful we are. But rarely do we risk creating a negative impression by sharing a deep and serious weakness. I can’t remember the last time I introduced myself to a new person by saying, “Hi, I’m Hanhee and my two greatest weaknesses are pride and lust. I also tend to be really judgmental.” It just doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily as, “Hi, I’m Hanhee and I’m a software engineer at a Fortune 50.”

Sin is insatiable; our pursuit of that self-image will never end because nothing is ever “enough.” No one who pursues fame will settle for X followers or Y likes.

No one who pursues love will settle for a set number of signs of affirmation from their partner to confirm their desirability. No one who pursues greatness will be satisfied by a certain level of accomplishment or impact.

And the fruits of these pursuits are all ephemeral—the person we create out of our own lives will go down to the grave with us. The famous writer Leo Tolstoy, when he was in his fifties, recognized the futility of this shortlived pursuit when he said, “My deeds, whatever they may be, will be forgotten sooner or later, and I myself will be no more. Why then do anything? I, therefore, could not attach a rational meaning to a single act of my entire life.”4 4

Leo Tolstoy, A Confession, (New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1983).

But life has meaning for those who believe that there is something after death worth pursuing. And for the Christian, the ultimate goal is to glorify God and do his will, just as Jesus did when “he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.”5 Submission to the will of God is naturally difficult, as it requires denying one’s own pursuit of a greater self-image. Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”6 His reference to the cross makes it explicitly clear that voluntary rejection of one’s own desires is by no means a simple procedure.

Crucifixion entailed not only physical suffering but also humiliation, degradation, and abandonment. Likewise, when we drop out of the rat race of bolstering ourselves and instead put our efforts into bolstering God, we inevitably find ourselves socially awkward, or even ostracized.

But how can we take practical steps towards this end goal? While our mind is most frequently a tool in our pursuit of ourselves, it can likewise be the strongest tool against ourselves. Naturally, this is difficult since pride wants to build itself up and not be seen. To dismantle pride, the main question to honestly ask ourselves is: why? Even the mundane can be explored with this question. Why do we hold the door for the person 5 6

Philippians 2:8.

Matthew 16:24-25.

behind us? Is it because we love them? Or is it because that’s just what a “good” person should do? Is it because that’s what’s expected socially and we would feel bad about being a “rude” person? Perhaps we’re pursuing our man-made laws in favor of Jesus’ commandments and priding ourselves in upholding them without loving others.

Why do we care about academic success? Maybe we don’t want to disappoint our parents’ expectations.

Maybe bad grades make us feel bad about ourselves because we got a quantifiably negative label. Maybe we’re really worried about getting a good job or getting into the dream grad school and we’re desperately reaching for every opportunity within our grasp to boost our chances of not being totally lost and hopeless in life.

When we drop out of the rat race of bolstering ourselves and instead put our efforts into bolstering God, we inevitably find ourselves socially awkward, or even ostracized.

Why do we go to church? Maybe it’s just what we were raised with and that we would feel like a “bad Christian” for missing a Sunday, or that other people would judge us as being such. Maybe we like the music.

Maybe we enjoy the social aspect because it makes us feel wanted and we’re just a little lonely.

The more honest we are with our motives and ready to accept truths that make us look bad, the easier it is to truly deny ourselves and follow Jesus. Every day, we must critically examine our actions and motives and ask: am I doing this for God or for selfish gain? And if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll find that it’s most frequently the latter, for “if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.”7 It is when we self-reflect and uncover the many ways in which we seek to fuel our pride that we can recognize the many ways in which we sin. But it is ironically when we are most cognizant of how bad we are that we can take the first steps towards redemption, for “if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”8 7 8

1 John 1:8.

1 John 1:9.

Hanhee Song (Wesleyan ‘17) spends his time thinking about people, God, and everything in between. Though he serves sin with his flesh, he looks forward to the day when he can be free to serve God fully. He pays the bills by writing enterprise software.

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A Gospel-Integrated Framework for Psychotherapy

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sychotherapy is increasingly pursued not only for the purpose of treating mental illness, but also for the purpose of “finding oneself ”—identifying “existential answers of identity, purpose, and meaning in life.”1 Because of trends in modern western culture urging us to chase success—but never at the expense of “happiness”—each person tends to pursue individual happiness. In order to define what will make us happy, we must face the ultimate challenge—defining ourselves.

In a single question, what is the ultimate foundation of who we are?

Of course, everyone has multiple attributes that contribute to their identity. Perhaps you identify with a racial, cultural, socioeconomic, gender/sexualitybased, and/or religious label. Perhaps your identity includes proficiency or deficiency in a skill, such as sports, intelligence, arts, or music. Perhaps the opinions of friends and family shape the way you see yourself, despite the changeable nature of others’ opinions. All of 1

Judy Cha, interview by Karis Cha, November 2018.

32 Columbia Crown & Cross

Karis Cha these things can be a part of who we are, and people increasingly seek therapy as the avenue to discovering what they have placed (often unintentionally) at the core of themselves. When all pretense and defense is chipped away, what do you really believe about yourself?

Naturally, psychology has aimed to address these questions. One system of thought called Internal Family Systems (IFS), developed by Richard C. Schwartz, is particularly useful in discovering the underlying foundations of our identities because these foundations often originate deeper in our pasts and have a more profound effect than we realize.2 According to IFS, each person is composed of many emotional “parts” that form a whole, and there are several different kinds of parts. The leader of the person as a whole is the Self, which is the center of the being; according to IFS, this Self is a resourceful, compassionate, almost godlike leader that, if allowed to lead the whole, will lead 2

“The Center for Self Leadership | All Parts Are Welcome.” About Internal Family Systems, selfleadership.org/about-internal-familysystems.html.

to a healthy psyche. Another part of the whole is the Exiles; these are conglomerates of our biggest hurts and insecurities, called “Exiles” because other parts— the Protectors—try to suppress and ignore them in any way they can. Often, Exiles form from hurts that we receive from other people—bullies, betrayals, even unintentional little comments from others can add up and become an Exile. The system as a whole can be quite complicated, as each part can also have its own emotions and opinions of the other parts. If you’ve ever seen the Disney-Pixar movie Inside Out, which can be seen as a simplified depiction of IFS, the main characters in Riley’s head are Protectors; in their own ways, they all want to protect her from harm, even if—it is important to note—their methods are not necessarily the best methods for her in the long run. Similarly, reallife Protectors can take the form of harmful emotions and behaviors, despite having the best intentions. The practice of IFS seeks to calm the Protectors in order to access and heal the Exiles, all through the action of the Self, which is regarded as the “true you.” According to IFS, we are ultimately self-sufficient; we can define ourselves.

However, from the Christian perspective, this method is incomplete. Ultimately, the only truly stable identity is in God, who unlike the communities and individuals we associate with, never changes—He “is the same yesterday and today and forever.”3 Because humans were created in the image of God, we were not intended to be self-defining, but to reflect God. It follows that in order to understand ourselves, we must understand our Creator and that we were created in order to reflect Him. Dr. Judy Cha, director of Redeemer Counseling Center, explains, “The self is a derived identity . . . The core of who we are, our value, what we live for, is derived in relationship with God.”4 Therefore, it cannot be discovered without Him. Unlike identity based on worldly, changeable things, relationship with God allows us to build an identity on an everlasting, unchanging foundation.

and establish or re-establish the self ’s foundation in God and His unchanging love for us. Unfortunately, most psychological theories and systems of thought that exist today do not involve the specific claims of Christianity, and thus may not be able to help a client (re-)establish their identity on God. If each of us has an innate need to know and reflect God, then it follows that psychology, though it is extremely helpful in treating mental illness and facilitating some degree of self-definition, is ultimately incomplete without God. As Dr. Cha puts it: Psychological theories highlight the complexity of human beings…[and help] us understand the specific ways in which human nature has been affected by sin, and assists in creating a process that effectively contextualizes the gospel to each client. However, we also believe that psychology is limited in its understanding because it can neither fully comprehend the depth of human brokenness nor address the ultimate basis for human identity. Psychology cannot provide the basis for our worth or guarantee the hope for full restoration.5

The practice of IFS seeks to calm the Protectors in order to access and heal the Exiles, all through the action of the Self, which is regarded as the “true you.”

However, founding our identity on God means we must process through the past emotional injuries that we have acquired from other people and internalized, 3 4

Hebrews 13:8.

Cha, interview.

In order to make full use of psychology, we need to integrate the Bible into psychological methods.

5

Ibid.

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This is the frontier that Dr. Cha and her team are currently exploring and developing. At the moment, they are working on more comprehensive literature detailing their new Gospel-Integrated Framework for Psychotherapy (still a tentative name). Cha and her team are taking effective secular techniques and integrating the teachings of the Bible to develop methods that are more effective than both purely secular and purely Biblical methods.

Their first project was integrating the Gospel into IFS, a secular psychotherapy technique. Redeemer Counseling Center’s revised version of IFS—called Redemptive Experiential Therapy (RET)—integrates God into the crux of the process. IFS is based on the belief that the Self can be self-sustaining and selfdefining, and that every human has inside of them the potential to support their own internal system.

However, as Christians, we believe that humans are made in the image of God—the Self is resourceful and compassionate not because humans are necessarily good and self-sustaining, but because we were made to reflect some qualities of our Creator. Given that we cannot define ourselves without knowing God, the modern mantra of “looking within” is not necessarily wrong, but incomplete without God. Through RET, the counselor aids the client in engaging directly with God to reprocess and heal painful memories and resulting burdens that Exiles carry, and ultimately re-establish a sense of self that is founded in God’s love. The Exile receives compassion not only from the Self, but also from God, who will redeem and affirm it, thereby healing it.

The clinical process for RET can be very long, as there can be many Exiles to address in one person, 34 Columbia Crown & Cross

but here is a short example. Over the summer, I received RET therapy for my anxiety disorder, and we were eventually able to heal one of my Exiles.

First, my therapist had me locate the Self and my internal “space.” At first, it was a strange experience that required a lot of visualizing, but over many sessions, it eventually became more natural. As my therapist worked with me to then identify Protectors, I actually “saw” the parts. For some people, the parts take the form of people, but for me, they are geometric shapes and polyhedrons. It was a surprising but enlightening experience to discover how it is almost as if each part has its own personality—again, recall the movie Inside Out.

Given that we cannot define ourselves without knowing God, the modern mantra of “looking within” is not necessarily wrong, but incomplete without God. The Protector we were primarily working with was a purple lightning bolt named Anxiety, who was causing me the most trouble at the time. Basically, the therapist encouraged the Self to interact with Anxiety, and as we asked Anxiety to share, memories began to surface— Anxiety explained how it became a Protector as it took on experiences of bullying and being ignored in my childhood. Eventually, after Anxiety had become more comfortable with the Self, it trusted the Self and the therapist enough to step aside and let us deal with the underlying Exile it was trying to suppress, and therefore protect.

In my case, the Exile was a red Triangle who believed that there was something terribly wrong with me. Until then, I had gone day-to-day without ever being aware that I had internalized this idea about myself, because Anxiety had been, in its own way, protecting me from realizing its existence—any time it perceived a potential that Triangle might be triggered, it would take control and make me feel anxious.

Now that Anxiety was calmer and trusted us, it allowed us to access and work with Triangle. My therapist instructed the Self to show the compassion I felt towards Triangle, and because Triangle finally felt empathized with instead of exiled, it was able to share the experiences that caused it to take on the burden of believing I was terrible in some indefinite way. Once it had finished sharing (many hours later), the therapist was able to implement the spiritual element unique to RET.

I had never felt so close to God before, or thought that he would so literally comfort me, but as someone who isn’t very emotional, I was blown away by the experience.

My therapist asked Triangle if it was okay for us to invite God into my internal space. As Christians, we have already accepted God into ourselves, and so He was there as soon as Triangle gave consent. I felt His

presence there, affirming Triangle and showing it His love and compassion. I had never felt so close to God before, or thought that he would so literally comfort me, but as someone who isn’t very emotional, I was blown away by the experience.

The next step is called “unburdening,” where the Exile lets go of its hurts and gives them to God—a quite literal interpretation of Matthew 11:28, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

By unburdening and leaving its hurts with God, Triangle was able to heal—it shed its identity derived from the opinions of other people, and took on a new, Christderived identity. Though Triangle was never wrong that there is something wrong with me, as I am a sinner, ultimately I am clean in the eyes of God because of what Christ has done for me—a fact I knew in my head but had not truly internalized until Triangle took it on.

Rather than the self-led standard of IFS, RET strives for a Christ-led life beginning with healing our deepest hurts through compassion and empathy, and allowing them to be replaced with the heart knowledge of God’s love. “Looking within” can allow you to find yourself, but only if you have accepted God into your heart and seek to define your identity based on Him.

Karis Cha (CC ‘22) enjoys playing piano, reading fantasy and scif-fi, and collecting crazy socks. She plans to major in English and perhaps one day work in publishing and translation.

Volume 5 | Issue 2 35

Choice of Axioms and the Axiom of Choice

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Elijah Schultz

ow does one become a Christian? Christ says that whosoever believes in Him shall have everlasting life. How does one know oneself to be a Christian? “Ye shall know them by their fruits.”1 How does one come to believe in Christ? One receives the revelation of His kingship and is driven to live in accordance with His righteous will as one’s sovereign Lord, honoring Him and obeying His commands.

One of these commands is to make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. How then does one make disciples? First by exhorting them to belief and, if successful, by building them up in their pursuit of sanctification.

This journey of sanctification begins in the transition from unbelief to belief. Though this movement is rarely reducible to a chain of logical reasoning, it at least gestures at the conviction that our faith is reasonable. There is therefore an element of faith which involves deriving Christian doctrines from some earlier premises. Even if we are willing to accept some of the doctrines of God’s church on trust, this trust is inevitably built upon our own judgement between truth and falsehood, through which we are able to get an initial sense of Christianity’s reliability. Before we can serve God, we must, impertinent as it may be, judge Him worthy of service.

On the other hand, the practice of Christian life lies in the submission of our reason and judgement to His. His ways are higher than our ways, and His 1

36 Columbia Crown & Cross

Matthew 7:16.

thoughts are higher than our thoughts.2 The Christian is expected to take every word of the Word as the inspired revelation of Truth personified. Our reason is given new, supernatural raw material on which to work.

The premises of revelation provide foundations upon which to erect mental cathedrals. “The stone which the builders rejected has become the head of the corner.”3 The uncertain conclusions of justification become the self-evident starting point of sanctification.

The challenge of laying foundations reminds me of Bertrand Russell.4 Russell was a mathematician and philosopher, as well as one of the preeminent exponents of empiricism, the conviction that the only meaningful truths are those deductible from logic and scientific observation. In 1901, he was at work on his book, Principles of Mathematics. In it, he was attempting to rigorously describe the rules of mathematical logic, which were so vitally important to his own epistemology.

Russell was one of several men at work on this project at the time. Another was Gottlob Frege, who had already published the first part of his own book on the subject.

Frege, like most mathematicians, was working in terms of set theory, which understands mathematical objects (numbers or otherwise) as elements of various sets, with sets being characterized by some shared property (i.e. the prime numbers consist of the set of integers which are only divisible by themselves and one).

The journey of sanctification begins in the transition from unbelief to belief.

Russell found a problem with Frege’s formulation.

An overly loose definition of a set allowed for the construction of sets which were dangerously recursive.

Russell considered the possibility of sets which contained other sets as elements. Those familiar with computer programming and lists of lists will understand this possibility intuitively. For others, the notion seems mind-boggling, particularly when one adds the idea of a set which contains itself as an element. Russell’s Paradox turned to the hypothetical set of all sets which do not contain themselves. If such a set does not contain itself, then it ought to be a member of itself, which is a contradiction. When Russell informed Frege of this, he was forced to add a hasty and inadequate appendix addressing the flaws in his approach. This provoked decades of contemplation

and debate among mathematicians about what the core axioms of mathematics, the fundamental assumptions of mathematical logic ought to be.

In some ways, these contemplations mirror the internal musings of the prospective convert. In both cases, the question involves a decision about what premises best enable one to draw conclusions about best practices, either in mathematics or in righteous living.

Logic cannot operate in a vacuum. It requires some foundation or starting point, raw material from which it may construct ideological edifices. The would-beChristian and the would-be-mathematician must both decide upon these initial axioms without being able to rely in full upon the normal instruments of logical decision making; these instruments cannot be fully defined until the choice has been made.

The general difficulty of this task is borne out by the state of modern set theory. Russell’s Paradox was resolved relatively trivially by defining sets in such a way that they cannot contain themselves. However, there are a variety of axioms which satisfy this condition, and mathematicians have no principled way to decide upon their first principles. The most common set of axioms is Zermelo-Fraenkel set theory with the Axiom of Choice (ZFC). Zermelo-Fraenkel set theory (ZF) defines sets robustly enough to avoid Russell’s Paradox,5 while the Axiom of Choice (AoC) specifies that for any series of nonempty sets, it is possible to select one element from each set, regardless of the size of each set. Kurt Gödel6 proved that the AoC is independent of ZF, and that you can’t prove or disprove AoC from within ZF, which is why it stands as a separate axiom. It cannot be stressed enough that there is no way to adjudicate the merits of ZFC vis-à-vis other axiomatic systems.

In the postscript to the second edition of After Virtue, his history of moral philosophy and defense of virtue ethics, Alasdair McIntyre claims, with reference to Gödel’s work, that analytic philosophy, that branch of philosophy which Russell helped to establish, was likewise afflicted by a problem of arbitrary first principles: Analytic philosophy, that is to say, can very occasionally produce practically conclusive results of a negative kind. It can show in a few cases that just too much incoherence and consistency is involved in some position for any reasonable person to continue to hold it. But it can never establish the rational acceptability of

2

Isaiah 55:9.

Mark 12:10; see also Psalm 118:22, Matthew 21:42, Luke 20:17, Acts 4:11, and 1 Peter 2:7.

4 Andrew David Irvine and Harry Deutsch, “Russell’s Paradox,” in Stanford Encylopedia of Philosophy (1995).

3

5

Specifically, ZF declares from the outset that sets cannot contain themselves.

6 Remember that name. He’ll be important later.

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any particular position in cases where each of the alternative rival positions available has sufficient range and scope and the adherents of each are willing to pay the price necessary to secure coherence and consistency. Hence the peculiar flavor of so much contemporary analytic writing . . . in which passages of argument in which the most sophisticated logical and semantic techniques available are deployed in order to secure maximal rigor alternate with passages that seem to do no more than cobble together a set of loosely related arbitrary preferences; contemporary analytic philosophy exhibits a strange partnership between an idiom deeply indebted to Frege and Carnap and one deriving from the more simpleminded forms of existentialism.7 The desire to answer meaningful questions, whether in mathematics or philosophy, requires one to embrace one set of axioms or another, but the rational/empiricist project is incapable of applying its usual rigors to the first principles upon which it inevitably depends.

The Axiom of Choice specifies that for any series of nonempty sets, it is possible to select one element from each set.

Arguments in favor of one axiomatic system or another therefore often depend upon appeals to the intuitive quality of the resultant mathematics. For example, because the AoC is independent of the rest of ZFC, it is fairly simple to compare the sort of mathematical 7 Alasdair C. MacIntyre, After Virtue (Notre Dame: Univ. of Notre Dame Press, 1981).

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conclusions one draws when one assumes it to be true to those conclusions one draws when assuming it to be false. In both cases, the consequences can be bizarre. If the AoC is true, then the Banach-Tarski Paradox states that it is possible to divide the points of a single sphere into multiple sets, then rearrange those sets in such a way as to produce two identical spheres, an operation which should intuitively require some multiplication, yet does not. Meanwhile, if the AoC is false, then it is possible to construct a vector space which has no basis.8 To explain, a vector is a mathematical object, typically described by an ordered list of numbers, while a vector space is the set of possible vectors in a given domain. Usually, all vectors in a vector space can be formed by taking multiples and sums of some set of “fundamental� vectors which form the basis of that vector space. An example of a vector space would be the numbered streets and avenues of Manhattan.9 When you take a cab, you specify your destination as a single vector of your desired street and avenue. Your taxi gets there by traveling some number of blocks east or west and some number of blocks north or south, with the lengths of horizontal and vertical blocks forming the basis of the Manhattan grid system. If the AoC is false, then a vector space without a basis would be like Manhattan full of crisscrossing streets that never intersect. No matter whether one accepts the axiom of choice, or rejects it, one is faced with implications that 8

Thomas J. Jech, The Axiom of Choice (Amsterdam: North-Holland Publ., 1973).

9 Please ignore the unnumbered streets for this example, as well as the diagonal ones. Real-world vector spaces are rarely as well-behaved as mathematical ones.

cut across one’s deepest intuitions. Thus, while the AoC is generally accepted and used by the mathematical community, the opposing view is perfectly respectable.

The majority acceptance mostly boils down to the relative ease with which the AoC confirms other intuitive results, rather than the absence of surprising and troubling implications.

The desire to answer meaningful questions, whether in mathematics or philosophy, requires one to embrace one set of axioms or another.

Compare this to the problem of evil. One of the perennial objections to Christianity, and to theism more broadly, involves the seeming incongruity between an omnipotent, benevolent God, and a world full of evil.

Theodicy is a recurring endeavor of the church’s greatest theological minds, running from Augustine’s belief in evil as absence rather than positive presence to Calvin’s conviction that depravity arises not from God’s will but from ours. Even if these explanations never quite dispel one’s unease with evil, rejecting God raises the question of how the distinction between good and evil can even be articulated. Christians understand evil as a kind of departure from or rejection of the will of God, who made the world to fulfill a particular purpose, with suffering emerging as the natural consequence of such a departure. Without the telos of divine design, atheistic ethics offer answers to the question of right and wrong which are at least as viscerally un-satisfying as the standard theodicies are to the problem of evil. Just as one

cannot avoid strange conclusions by assuming either the AoC or its negation, so the problem of evil cannot be resolved by assuming the existence or nonexistence of God, merely transposed into a different kind of problem.

However, Christianity is more than theism, and as such, it makes a much wider set of falsifiable claims about the world. The ultimate test of the gospel’s reliability lies in the historicity of Jesus Christ, His burial and resurrection. The Son of Man either rose again on the third day, or He was not the Son of Man, in which case, “we are of all men most miserable.”10 Our faith lives or dies on whether the testimony of the church through the ages to this fact may be trusted. This may sound frightening, but it should not. The alternative, an unfalsifiable faith, in which a God-of-the-gaps rules over that portion of reality which science and empiricism does not touch, is inevitably impoverished.

God must be sovereign over physics as much as He is sovereign over the soul. Otherwise he is a small God, the breadth of whose kingdom shall wane smaller and smaller as mankind grows more skillful in our artifices.

This is what Russell imagined Christianity to be. He compared it to a teapot orbiting the sun somewhere in the asteroid belt. It may be true, but who can prove it, and who should care? But Russell was wrong. Because Christianity’s claims welcome testimony, they can be judged, and because they can be judged, the Great Judge of the universe may demonstrate to us the legitimacy of His Lordship, and we may with confidence direct our ever more subtle machinations to His service.

God may not dwell solely in the gaps, but He does know their every contour, a claim which we ourselves cannot make. The early twentieth century quest for optimal axioms saw Kurt Gödel develop two “Incompleteness Theorems,”11 which set inescapable 10

1 Corinthians 15:19.

Juliette Kennedy, “Kurt Gödel,” in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (2015).

11

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limits upon the scope of our human reason. The first theorem proves that, just as AoC cannot be proven or disproven within ZF set theory, no matter what set of axioms one assumes, there will always be statements that cannot be proven or disproven from those assumptions.

There are questions, no matter what your articles of faith may be, which you may never answer; there are likely infinitely many such questions. Moreover, Gödel’s second theorem demonstrates the impossibility of proving a set of axioms to be consistent. It is impossible to know in advance whether a set of axioms will contain the sort of paradoxes which threw set theory into chaos.

Such contradictions may go unnoticed by human minds indefinitely, waiting to throw an aneurysm into the collective consciousness.

The ultimate test of the gospel’s reliability lies in the historicity of Jesus Christ, His burial, and resurrection.

Christians may respond to this with a chastened skepticism toward their own beliefs and assumptions, or they may praise God that the tenets of revelation come from the all-seeing one rather than from our own blind intuition. Our confidence in the things we take as given is directly proportional to our confidence in Him who gave them. Revelation is a miracle. Mankind walks the earth almost as full of questions as of iniquity. Some of these questions we can’t even attempt to answer. Others we may attempt, but we will forever rest uneasy over the sturdiness of our foundations. It is into this quagmire that the Omniscient One stepped to give an answer.

“Come let us reason together, saith the Lord,”12 and He offers us a solid rock on which to stand, first morally, and then intellectually. In a sense, although the quest for knowledge does not end when one embraces faith, one can say that the gospel collapses our uncertainty over our many questions onto a single question of Jesus Christ: “Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?” May we reply, as Simon did, “Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest I love thee.”13 Thanks for asking.

12 13

Isaiah 1:18.

John 21:17.

Elijah Schultz (SEAS ‘19) is president of Jubilation!, Columbia’s Christian a cappella group. He enjoys tackling theological problems which are too big for him as a distraction from his rapidly approaching graduation.

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