Science in Christian Perspective
The Problem of Miracle in the Apologetic from History
STEPHEN J. WYKSTRA
Department of Philosophy
University of Tulsa
Tulsa, Oklahoma 74104
From: JASA 30 (December 1978): 154-163.
From at least the seventeenth century until the twentieth, a cornerstone of Christian apologetics has been what can be called "the apologetic from history." Its strategy was to argue, first, that there is sufficient historical evidence to warrant belief that certain historical events-crucially the resurrection of Jesus-have occurred; and then, that the "miraculousness" of these events supplies rational justification for believing the religious teachings of the person through whom the events took place, namely Jesus.1 Robert Boyle, John Locke, Joseph Priestley, William Paley, Joseph Butler, and many others endorsed this as the strongest bulwark for the claim that Cod, through Jesus, has made available to man "revealed truth" about Himself.2
This mode of argument has, of course, become theologically unfashionable in the twentieth century. Karl Barth proposes that "Belief cannot argue with unbelief; it can only preach to it"; H. Richard Niebuhr urges that Revelation is "confessional" and that Protestant theology is essentially "subjective"; Bultmann and Tillich reinterpret the Christian proclamation as "existential": virtually all of the distinctively twentieth-century theological traditions converge in an antipathy toward giving arguments, especially historical arguments, for the claims or commitments of the Christian venture. Thus, in his Easter sermon for the New York Times, we find Martin Marty advising "otherbelievers, nonbelievers, or antibelievers":
Yawn, please, whenever a preacher tries to "prove" the resurrection. Your boredom will help us face the issue of faith. Silly putty proofs and reasonings insult you and thoughtful Christians. They convince only the convinced. Nervous apologists have to use logic and history to prove that a tomb was empty. But Easter rises from the experience of faith-then and now.3
Marty's advice, one hardly needs to document, reflects the reigning theological
consensus: objective historical enquiry is irrelevant to the question
of the "validity"
of Christianity.
There are, however, two exceptions to this rule. Among evangelical
intellectuals,
there is a strong remnant still maintaining that objective historical evidence
does provide strong reasons for believing the theological claims of
Christianity.
The late C. S. Lewis endorsed this defense; and especially under the auspices
of the Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship, proponents of this
position exert considerable
influence on Christian college students.4
Second, in recent years some distinguished analytic philosophers have brought
the issues concerning the relations between "faith" and
"history"
under critical scrutiny. They have argued that the twentieth-century attempts
to insulate Christian commitment from the results of historical
enquiry are, philosophically,
highly objectionable. But while thus arguing that historical evidence
is relevant
to assessing Christian belief, they have gone on to claim that this relevance
is negative in import: it provides reasons only for rejecting Christianity.5
These two exceptions to the current theological consensus supply the rationale
for this paper. For it is my distinct impression that virtually all the debate
among those under the evangelical umbrella has concerned itself with
the theological
challenges to the apologetic from history-with, that is, questions
about whether
this apologetic is theologically appropriate. Consequently, those
apologists who
argue that it is appropriate have ignored, or dealt most
superficially with, the
very different challenges posed by analytic counter-apologists.
My aim in this paper is to bring to a focus one of the spotlights of
contemporary
analytic criticism, and, having done this, to use it to highlight some problems
in the historical argument of a leading contemporary evangelical
apologist, John
Warwick Montgomery. I do this, not with the intention of debunking
the historical
approach Montgomery employs, but rather in the hope that, by promoting further
discussion, whatever is of value in this approach might prove its mettle.
Historicity and Miracle
There are two basic first-order questions at stake in the
apologetic from history.
The first is whether spe
cific alleged events, such as the resurrection of Jesus, actually occurred.
The second is whether such an event, if it occurred, would
constitute a "miracle."
Each of these questions elicits a "prior question" of a
methodological
sort. Before we can properly ask the first question, we must answer the prior
question: How should we go about determining whether such-and-such an alleged
event actually occurred as alleged? That is; By what criteria are
we to assess
reports alleging that this event occurred?
And before we can properly ask the second question, we must ask the
corresponding
prior question: How can we defensibly determine the
"miraculousness"
of an event? That is: By what criteria, if any, can we defensibly determine
whether an event is a "miracle"?
I shall be concerned primarily with this second "prior
question."
The term "miracle" is, however, a "multiguous" one:6 in
different contexts it receives very different meanings. For our
purposes here,
we can sufficiently reduce this multiguity by reminding ourselves
that the term
must be given a particularly strong definition when it is employed
in an apologetic
from history. For the apologist from history, having purportedly established
the occurrence of certain events, needs then to argue that the
"miraculous"
character of these same events gives us justification for believing that the
miracle-doer is a trustworthy teacher of religious truths. The
"miracle,"
that is, must function as "Divine attestation," a stamp of approval
from God upon the teacher through whom the miracle occurs.
Accordingly, apologists
from history have sensibly tried to define "miracle"
as-minimally-an
event which is "contra natura," or "beyond the
powers of created
things." After the rise of science in the seventeenth century, this was
further articulated in terms of "the laws of nature": a
"miracle"
was usually defined-again minimally-as "a transgression of the laws of
nature."7
This is the definition David flume invokes in his infamous critique
of the apologetic
from history.8 It should be noted that this definition does
not-countless critics
of Hume notwithstanding-rule out the attempt to theologically
explicate "nature's
laws" as themselves the result of the continuous activity of
God in nature.
The bite of the definition is simply that a "miracle" is an event
which rationally compels a man to admit (if he is rational): "Only God
could do this thing; nature alone could not!" If the order of
"nature
alone" is itself explicated in terms of the continuous activity of God,
of His "general concourse" with Creation, then a miracle
must be defined
as an event which could occur only by a special voluntary act of
extraordinary
power. For only so can it hear the weight of the apologetic from history. As
Antony Flew puts it:
It is only and precisely in so far as it [miracle] must involve an overriding
from outside and above-an event which, so to speak, Nature by herself must be
unable to contrive-that such an event would force the conclusion
that a transcendent
Power is revealing itself.
This being so, it will get the apologist nowhere fast to urge that
such a notion
of the miraculous [as Hume invokes] is somehow quite unsound. He is the one
who needs it, if, that is, the occurrence of a miracle is to serve
as the credentials
of his candidate revelation.9
Granting, then, the apologetic necessity10 of defining
Among evangelical intellectuals there is a strong remnant still maintaining that objective historical evidence does provide strong reasons for believing the theological claims of Christianity.
"miracle" in this way, the crucial question is: By what
criteria are
we to judge whether or not an event is a miracle, in this
hall-blooded revelation-certifying
sense of the term? Events do not, after all, come with attached tags telling
us whether or not they are produced by special acts of Divine agency.
It seems to be rarely recognized, especially by those who still espouse the
apologetic from history, that developments in science and in the philosophy
of science have greatly increased both the necessity and the
difficulty of answering
this question.
The necessity: because the last few centuries of science have
repeatedly turned
up events which were strikingly contrary to what the theories of
the time implied
nature is capable of contriving. At the time they are first
observed, such "anomalies"
may be unique, and practically speaking unrepeatable. One thinks, to cite one
instance of massy, of the startling observation of a supernova in
the sixteenth
century. No one had seen such a thing before, no one knew whether it would he
seen again, and it was contrary to the then-established theory that
the celestial
region is "incorruptible"-comprising entities which, by
their nature,
can suffer neither generation nor destruction.11
At least by the wisdom of hindsight, we know that it would be apologetically
and scientifically disastrous to deem such anomalies as "miracles."
It would he apologetically undesirable, both because it would lead
to a baffling
proliferation of "miracles," and because such "miracles"
would be uncomfortably ephemeral as those less prudent prophets who
deemed the
sixteenth-century nova a "miracle" died too soon to learn. For like
this nova, the most startling anomalies have regularly led to the development
of new scientific theories which adequately explain the supposed
"miracle"
in terms of strictly natural processes. This historical reality
also shows why
it would be scientifically' disastrous to regard such anomalies as miracles:
for it is only by so much as they are treated as the effects of
not-yet-understood
natural processes, that they prod
the search for new and more adequate scientific theories.
These same historical realities which make it necessary for the apologist to
supply the criteria in question also make it difficult for him to
do this-more
difficult now than it was, say, for Robert Boyle in the seventeenth century
or William Paley in the eighteenth. In these earlier centuries,
especially after
the astounding successes of Newtonian dynamics, it could he maintained with
some plausibility that Newton's "inductive method" yields knowably
true and complete theories of natural processes-theories which
would never have
to be revised or abandoned in their proper domains. This confidence
in the "absolute
truth" of inductively-certified scientific theories may well be why the
apologetic from history thrived as it did: for by so much as one
scientifically "knows" (or thinks one knows) what natural processes
are capable of contriving, one knows also what they are incapable
of. That is,
an event which is contrary to what is entailed by an
"infallibly known"
scientific theory could cogently be argued to be a "miracle."12
But this epistemological confidence in "inductive method" was, we
have since learned, much too optimistic. The revolutionary
overthrow of Newtonian
dynamical theory in the twentieth century brought forcibly home what the more
perceptive methodologists had long suspected: even our best
scientific theories
are fallible, and may have to be radically revised in the light of
new experimental
findings. One can thus no longer appeal to "inductively
established"
scientific theories as providers of criteria for demarcating that
of which nature
is capable, from that which, because it cannot possibly be produced
by natural
processes, is necessarily miraculous.
In short: the apologist from history must provide anew some set of defensible
criteria for determining which "anomalies" are properly
to be regarded
as "miracles," and which are to he regarded instead as indices of
the inadequacy of our current theories of natural processes. And it is clear
that the onus of providing such criteria is on the apologist, not
upon his opponent:
for it is the apologist who must show that it would be unreasonable to regard
his putative miracles merely as persistent-hut-temporary natural anomalies,
akin to the nova in the sixteenth century. Indeed, the onus is even
more stringent
than this. The apologist must show that it would he unreasonable, in certain
eases, to remain "agnostic" about the matter, i.e. to leave it as
an open question.13
The apologist from history need not, of course, provide infallible criteria
for determining "miraculousness"; but he at least needs to supply
criteria that enable us to judge when it is more reasonable to
regard an event
as a miracle than to regard it as a persistent natural anomaly. He may choose
to attempt this by speaking of the "degree of
probability" that such-and-such
an event is a miracle. But to justify this way of speaking he must
do more than
wave his arms in' the direction of Butler's aphorism:14 he must
supply defensible
quantitative (degree-yielding) criteria by which can assign such
"probabilities"
to events. Unless such criteria are provided, Flew can rightly contend that
the apologist is being subjective and arbitrary in his selection of certain
anomalies, and not others, as instances of the miraculous. To my knowledge no
such criteria have yet been provided.15
Natural Law and Miracle
In light of what has been argued, I do not see how one could sustain the very
different moral that John Montgomery tries to extract from the
history of science.
Montgomery writes:
But can modern man accept a "miracle" such as the resurrection? The
answer is a surprising one: The resurrection has to be accepted
[given the historical
evidence]
just because we are modern men, men living in the Einstein relativistic age.
For us, unlike people of the Newtonian epoch, the universe is no
longer a tight,
safe, predictable playing field in which we know all the rules.
Since Einstein
no modern has had the right to rule out the possibility of events because of
a prior knowledge of "natural law."16
Contrary to the historical generalization here implied, there simply was no
"Newtonian epoch" which confidently "ruled out"
miraculous
events. A great many flags were flown under the Newtonian banner in
the eighteenth
and nineteenth centuries, and it would be foolhardy to try to summarize here
the diverse and often conflicting ways that "Newtonians"
have viewed
natural laws and miracles.17 But this much can he said without qualification:
it is clear that for Newton himself, and for the circle of
disciples who first
defined what it was to be a "Newtonian," Newton's
scientific proposals
led to a great stress on the extent to which the "laws of nature"
themselves are necessarily sustained by-rather than autonomous
from-the continuous
active power of God.18 Furthermore, the confidence of these Newtonians
that we could empirically know the true laws of nature never led
them to skepticism
about whether miracles occur. Their confidence was simply that,
insofar as God
is working by his ordinary "laws," certain sorts of
events (miracles)
can not occur. This did not at all "rule out" miracles, except of
course for those who made the further Deistic assumption that God must always
act in accordance with these regular, inductively discoverable
"rules,"
which are thus deemed irrecusable even for the Ruler. For two
centuries, Newtonians
consistently could-and persistently did-reject this Deistic
assumption. Twentieth-century
"Einsteinians" can, and do, continue to accept it-as did Einstein
himself.19
The shift from Newtonian to Einsteinian physics has, in fact, very
little philosophical
relevance to the question of whether we have the right to rule out
the possibility
of miraculous events. This question hinges primarily upon whether one chooses
to believe that the natural order is "closed" or "open,"
and Einstein's revolution is philosophically irrelevant to this question. It
is relevant, not to the question of whether it is possible that
miraculous events
can occur, but rather to the question of whether, if they occur, we
could ever
know them to be "miraculous." And its relevance here
derives not from
the physical content of Einstein's theories, but simply because by
overturning
Newtonian dynamics, these theories brought home the epistemological fact that
the best of theories are fallible, and can be asserted only
provisionally, "until
further notice."
The correct epistemological moral to draw from the Einsteinian revolution is
thus not: "Aha, now we see that miracles are possible after all!";
rather it is: "If we can no longer claim to know what natural processes
in themselves are capable of producing, how then can we know
whether any startling
anomaly is a 'miracle'?" The crucial question is thus
underscored: If miracles
do occur, by what criteria can we distinguish them, qua miracles, from those
natural events that are startling only because our theories of
nature (and the
expectations these theories give us) are defective?
Suppose, as a "Gedanken experiment" to make the issue vivid, that
it were established that Uri Geller does bend metal bars across a
room, by some
extraordinary power. Would this be something producible only by God's special
agency, and thus count as a "miracle"? If not, by what criteria are
we entitled to claim that walking on water, for example, would fall
in the category
of the miraculous, though Geller's telekinesis would not?
Montgomery, it seems, is caught by his own argument. If we do not
have "the
right," by "prior knowledge of natural law," to say
that certain
sorts of events are beyond the capabilities of natural processes,
then by what
right can we say, when confronted with a resurrection, that this is an event
that could be produced only by a special act of Divine power?
A Circular Argument and Existential Escape
One needs only to read a bit between the lines to see how Montgomery disposes
of this problem. Writing of the resurrection, which in his view
provided "the
final proof of the truth of Jesus' claim to deity," Montgomery says:
...we must go to the One who rose to find the explanation [of his
rising], and
His explanation, though we may not like it, is that only God
Himself, the Lord
of life, could conquer the powers of death.20
This tactic reveals how much the logic of the apologetic from history can get
twisted under the (implicit) pressure of the need for criteria for
determining
miraculousness. If Montgomery intends to he offering the
traditional argument-and
he gives no hint of an alternative to it-he has rendered it
completely circular.
Originally, the apologist argued that we are justified in believing
Jesus' teachings
because his authority has received Divine attestation via
miracles-events which
clearly could only come from God. But now, the reason offered for believing
that the crucial event is indeed a miracle is that Jesus teaches that it is,
i.e. that "only God himself" could produce it. The circle
is closed.
The crucial question is thus sidestepped. For the fact that a
person has a certain
extraordinary power neither entails that he knows, nor, if he knows, that he
is truthful about, the true explanation for this power. If it were factually
established that Jeanne Dixon could prophesy, or that Uri Geller could bend
spoons across a room, would we be rationally obliged to accept an
explanation
of their powers they proffer, simply because other humans cannot do what they
can do? By the only criterion Montgomery provides, Un would have to
be accepted
as an Agent of Revelation if he
explains to us: "Only by the special power of God Himself, the
Omnipresent
One, can I bend spoons across an empty room." Once this is rejected as
a specious criterion, one need only add that the fact that "we may not
like" Jesus' explanation is, even for the most Calvinistic of us, not a
good reason for believing the explanation to he true.
But an extensive caveat is in order here. It might be felt that my criticism
of this passage is unfair, because Montgomery does not intend it as
a detailed
solution to the problem of miraculousness. My reply to this is twofold. First
and simplest, the passage under scrutiny is the only argument
Montgomery provides
in History and Christianity for what is surely its most crucial premise: that
establishing the truth of a historical claim (about Jesus'
resurrection) enables
one to infer the truth of a theological claim (about Jesus'
divinity). For this
reason alone, any circularity introduced into the argument by this
passage is,
I think, fair game.
The second and more disturbing reason is that the chasm thus created in the
argument of History and Christianity is, to my knowledge, not
bridged anywhere
in Montgomery's writings. The caveat, of course, is that my knowledge of the
Montgomery corpus is not exhaustive: since I have not read everything he has
written, it is possible that in some essay I've overlooked, my
misgivings have
already been remedied. I do, however, know of several places where he touches
on the problem I have raised. That these are not remedies is the
burden of what
follows.
Consider, first, a passage in his essay on "Biblical Inspiration"
in which he argues that the apologetic from the resurrection has as its model
Jesus' own mode of arguing from an empirically verifiable claim (that he has
the power to heal the man with palsy) to a theological claim (that he has the
power to forgive sins) which Montgomery admits is not, per se,
empirically verifiable.
Commenting on the Marcan account, Montgomery writes:
Does He [our Lord] leave his forgiveness claim in the realm of the
unverifiable,
as have numerous religious leaders through the ages? By no means; he connects
the theological claim with an empirical claim whose verifiability is not only
possible but inevitable. The argument thus runs: "You do not
believe that
I can forgive sins. Very well; I cannot show you that directly. But if I show
you that I can, by my Divine power, remedy the empirical sickness
that connects
with the sin problem, will you have any reason left for denying my power
to work in the theological sphere?" The empirical, objective healing of
the palsied man was performed that men might "know that the Sun of man
bath power on earth to forgive sins"-a fact that, had our Lord
not coupled
it with an objective test, could have been dismissed as meaningless
and irrelevant
to those who had doubtless heard such claims many times before. In precisely
the same way does the New Testament present Christ's resurrection
as the objective
ground of belief in the theological significance of his death on
tile Cross.21
For the sake of argument, let us grant the exegetical part of
Montgomery's thesis
here, and assume that Jesus and the New Testament writers did argue in this
way. The critical apologetic question the!) is: if this mode of argument is
cogent, what makes it cogent?
The crux is that if Jesus' theological claim does receive
attestation from the
healing of the palsied man, it does so not simply because the healing-claim
is an empirically verifiable claim about an observable event. The attestation
requires also that the healing-event be, knowably, a very special
sort of observable
event: that it have a special and peculiar property by virtue of
which, if one
can heal palsy, one's theological claims ought to he believed. Like the man
in John 9 whose blindness He healed, one must argue that Jesus' healing deeds
could he done only by a man "of God," invested with the
special power
of God. This, of course, is what the classical apologists from history meant
by arguing that attestational events are knowably miraculous.
Obvious as this seems, it also seems that Montgomery overlooks it;
for he sheds
no light on how this could he plausibly argued. True, he does take
the premise
of Jesus' argument to assert that Jesus "can, by [His] divine
power, remedy
the empirical sickness that connects with the sin problem"
(italics mine),
but this is to assert precisely what has not been shown: for though
the healing
is an observable fact, that it is done by virtue of Divine power is not. One
could observe whether the event occurred, but one could not observe whether
it was a miraculous occurrence. (Nor, given this,
are we helped much by Montgomery's invocation of the idea that
empirical sickness
is in some way connected with the "sin problem": I should hate to
think that a medical degree is any index of one's authority to forgive sins!)
So apologetically, we are left quite as much in the dark about the nature of
the biblical "inference" from the healing-claim to the
forgiveness-claim,
as we are about how Montgomery gets from the truth of a historical
claim about
the resurrection to the truth of a theological claim about Jesus' deity.22
About the only thing I can find in print that sheds
any light on Montgomery's views on this, is a comment
made by Montgomery's colleague Paul Feinberg, in his defense of Montgomery's
philosophy of history against a critique written by Ronald Nash.
Nash took Montgomery
to task for claiming that historical events "carry their interpretation
with them," citing as an illustration Montgomery's statement
that "when
the historical facts of Christ's life, death, and resurrection are allowed to
speak for themselves, they lead to belief in his Deity and acceptance of his
account [of the supernatural character of the resurrection]." Feinberg's
reply-submitted with Montgomery's endorsement-gives a plausible
defense of the
view that historical facts generally provide the means for
assessing rival interpretations
of the events. But one wants to know how this can work when
peculiarly "miraculous"
interpretations are in question: how is it that "the facts
themselves"
justify interpreting a resurrection as a revelation-certifying miracle that
rationally warrants belief in Jesus' claim to deity? On this
Feinherg simply
says, "significance arises from the nature of the event.
Death, for instance,
is significant because it is an ultimate human existential concern." He
then adds in a footnote: "This is significant in light of
Nash's discussion
of Montgomery and the resurrection ."23
If the footnote has any relevance to Nash's discussion at all, it
must, I think,
be read as suggesting the following: It is because death is "an ultimate
human existential concern" that Jesus' death and resurrection,
"when
allowed to speak for themselves, lead to belief in his deity and acceptance
of his account," Now, as a possible psychoanalytic description
of the processes
by which Christians come to hold their beliefs I will not quibble with this,
since I am not a psychoanalyst. But Feinherg clearly also intends
to be endorsing
this process as exemplifying a reasonable kind of inference: for Nash was-as
I am-asking not for a genetic explanation, but rather for a
normative rationale.
And as an answer to the normative question, I find Feinberg's proposal not a
little odd: for the claim is then that we are somehow justified in our belief
that the resurrection is a revelation-certifying miracle, because of the fact
that we humans have a basic existential need to transcend death. I
confess that
the logic of this escapes me. But it surely will not do to argue
that the process
is one in which we "allow the facts to speak for
themselves": to the
contrary, Feinberg's proposal implies that what leads us from the historical
facts to our theological interpretation are not the facts
themselves, but rather
the existential hang-ups (to put it with less epistemic charity)
that we bring
to the facts.
Besides his general endorsement of Feioberg's article, I know of
only one other
place where Montgomery has publicly expressed this existential element in his
apologetic. In a dialogue first published in Christianity Today, Montgomery
asserts that historical enquiry can tell us that the resurrection occurred,
but that it cannot tell us what the explanation of its occurrence
is. When asked
what good the historical information then is, Montgomery replies,
"Plenty,
if you have a death problem-because you are obviously going to wonder why in
thunderation this happened."24
Like Feinherg's comments, this still leaves us pretty unclear about
what Montgomery
thinks the episteioic relevance of our "death problem" is. Though
it is risky to read too much between the lines, his other comments indicate
that Montgomery is offering us something like the following:
"Though historical
enquiry, in itself, cannot tells us what the true explanation of
the resurrection
is, it can tell us what Jesus taught its true explanation to he.
And given the
relevance of the event to our existential needs, we are being most reasonable
when we go to the resurrected one for our explanation of it."
Its relevance to our "death problem" thus seems to have become the
apologetic surrogate for the traditional claim that the
resurrection is knowably
miraculous, in an objective, revelationcertifying sense. In view of
Montgomery's
avowed empiricism, this existential turn is both surprising and-to
me-dubious:
for since when have our human needs-however existentially fundamental-become
a defensible substitute for empirical
The apologetic from history must provide anew defensible criteria for determining which "anomalies" are properly to be regarded as miracles.
evidence? That such needs guide the questions we find it important to ask, is
reasonable. That they genetically explain why Christians come to
hold the beliefs
they hold, is not entirely implausible. But that they provide
reasonable warrant
for those beliefs seems, from an empiricist's point of view,
indefensible.
Not Simply a Theoretical Problem
Some might be tempted to dismiss the problem of supplying the
criteria in question
as "purely academic," even "pedantic."
"After all,"
it might he claimed, "on a practical level there are surely few people
who would, if convinced on historical grounds that the resurrection
did occur,
just shrug it off as another anomaly to be put on the scientific
agenda of outstanding
research problems. Even Antony Flew (it might be ventured), if convinced of
the historicity of the resurrection, would irresistibly respond as
did a centurion
to a lesser wonder: 'Surely this was the Son of God!' So the
problem of formulating
criteria is purely 'theoretical.'
For those who take the apologetic from history seriously, there are
two reasons
why this had better be
avoided. First, because by it apologetics degenerates from a
concern with what
is rationally believable, into a policy based on practical psychology-and by
biblical standards, dubious practical psychology at that.25 It might be true
that even Antony Flew's psychological makeup is such that, if
actually confronted
with a resurrection, he could not help but believe it to be a
revelation-certifying
miracle. This would be an interesting fact about Antony Flew. But would it at
all justify the claim that Flew has gotten closer to the truth? For
the "could
not help but" is in itself only a psychological necessity; and if it is
not guided by reasons, it is irrational (even if Antony Flew himself couldn't
resist his psyche in the crunch).
There is, secondly, an even more far-reaching issue at stake. Flew
has argued,
to my mind formidably, that the question of whether we are
justified in asserting
that the resurrection occurred, depends upon whether we can justify asserting
that this event, if it occurred, would be genuinely miraculous. He builds a
case that if we have no defensible criteria by which to identify such events
as miraculous, then on the available evidence we cannot even justify claiming
that our putative miracle occurred.26 If Flew is correct, the apologist who
allows "psychological makeup" to replace rationality on the issue
of miraculousness is not even going to be able to establish the historicity
of his alleged miracle. It is beyond the scope of this paper to give Flew's
position an analysis as extended as it deserves. The crux of it,
however, shall
he unpacked by critically considering one more assertion from Montgomery.
Determining Improbabilities
Montgomery writes,
Of course, attempts have been made to "explain" the
resurrection accounts
naturalistically. The German rationalist Venturini suggested that Jesus only
fainted on the cross, and subsequently revived in the cool tomb.
This "swoon
theory" is typical of all such arguments: they are infinitely
more improbable
than the resurrection itself, and they fly squarely in the face of
the documentary
evidence. Jesus surely died on the cross, for the Roman crucifixion
teams knew
their business (they had enough practice). He could not possibly have rolled
the heavy boulder from the door of the tomb after the crucifixion expcricnce.27
What Flew's discussions force one to probe here is Montgomery's
confident assertion
that certain possibilities, like that envisioned by the swoon hypothesis, are
"infinitely more improbable than the resurrection itself." If one
reflects a bit on the empirical procedures by which we normally
estimate "improbabilities,"
this confidence seems, at the least, to need some explanation. For surely the
basis of our judgment that it is improbable that a Roman
crucifixion team could
err in their grisly business is this: in all other eases of which
we have knowledge,
they did not err. If the amount of "practice" they had is invoked,
the inferential procedure remains the same: the probability that
for a crucifixion
team "practice makes perfect" can be estimated only on the basis of
how often, in other eases of this kind, practice does indeed make
perfect.
But what is the outcome when, using the same procedure, we compare this with
the probability of a resurrection? One need not even resort here to
the per
tinent observation that trained medical doctors have, on documented
occasions,
mistakenly pronounced a person in a deep "swoon" to be officially
dead. For setting such instances to the side, the following
consideration alone
is decisive: our experience concerning what happens to physical
bodies following
death is much more extensive-one might even venture
"infinitely more extensive"-than
is our experience of what happens when Roman soldiers attempt to do
their job.
Bracketing the instance in question (lest the question be begged) the normal
procedure therefore yields the following verdict: granting that it is to some
degree improbable that a crucifixion team would mistake a man in a swoon to
he dead, it is yet more improbable, "infinitely more improbable,"
that a dead man would not stay dead .28 The verdict is parallel if
one examines,
in the light of our normal procedures for estimating what is and is
not "possible,"
Montgomery's categorical assertion that "Jesus could not possibly have
rolled the heavy boulder from the door of the tomb after a
crucifixion experience."
There is a parenthetical point whose outcome should be noted here.
In an oft-quoted
chapter on Hume, C. S. Lewis argues29 (and his argument seems
to have gained
universal currency among evangelical apologists) that such
estimates of "antecedent
probabilities" are relevant only to predictive judgments about whether
a future event will occur under specified conditions: that when the event in
question is in the past and we are appraising testimony alleging to
have witnessed
it, this kind of probability is totally irrelevant. This
"reply to Hume,"
which seems to have originated with Joseph Butler, should have been laid to
rest long ago. It rests on a knot of confusions that were
adequately untangled
and criticized by John Venn over a century ago, in his classic The Logic of
Chance.30
Sensitized by Flew's analysis, we thus face the following dilemma. It is only
by employing normal probability-estimating procedures that the apologist can
assert that certain possibilities (such as that entertained by Venturini) are
to some degree improbable. But if we consistently apply these same procedures
to the possibility envisioned by the resurrection hypothesis, it is rendered
yet more-staggeringly more-improbable than the others. This is, I
believe, packed
into Flew's concise summary of the Humean critique:
The heart of the matter is that the criteria by which we most
assess historical
testimony, and the general presumptions which alone make it possible for us
to construe the detritus of the past as historical evidence, most inevitably
role out any possibility of establishing, upon purely historical
grounds, that
some genuinely miraculous event has indeed occurred.31
The Verifiability Principle
The contemporary philosophical challenge concerning the historicity
of Christian
miracles is thus not the old naturalistic ontological prejudice to the effect
that "the resurrection didn't happen because such an event would violate
the laws of nature, and the laws of nature, we moderns know, are
inviolable:"
in his frequent attacks on this, Montgomery is heating a horse that has, for
analytic counter-apologists, long been buried, The Flewian
challenge is rather
a methodological-epistemological one to the effect that "given the
presuppositions that alone make possible the historical method (and given our
lack of criteria for determining 'miraculousness'), one of the limitations of
the method is that it is, by its nature, impotent to tell us whether alleged
miracles have occurred-even if in fact they have."
Now, Montgomery has tried to rebut a position very similar to this (allegedly
developed by Karl Barth), again by invoking the Verifiability Criterion. His
argument is that the Verifiability Principle shows clearly that if historical
method cannot provide access to the resurrection, then it is meaningless to
say that the resurrection occurred in space-time history (i.e. as
an observable
event, in the past; in Historic, as distinct from Geschichte). He
writes, "If
Christ's resurrection really occurred in history, then historical
investigation
will [in principle he able to] indicate it -for to
deny this is to make meaningless the sentence that the resurrection occurred.32
This argument rests on a misapplication of the Verifiability Principle: even
if one grants the Principle (which I do not), the conclusion does not follow.
For the application overlooks the relevance of a distinction that is crucial
to responsible application of the principle, which its exponents
always insisted
on. In the verifiability literature, the distinction is usually referred to
as the difference between "verifiability in principle"
and "verifiability
in practice." Properly understood, the Verifiability Criterion
stipulates
that for a sentence to be meaningful it need only be verifiable in principle;
whether or not it is verifiable in practice is totally irrelevant
to its meaningfulness
(though it is, of course, very relevant to whether we could claim
it to be knuwably
true). It is only by virtue of this crucial distinction that, for example, it
was meaningful to say in 1800 that "there are craters on the other side
of the moon," even though there was not then (and might never have been)
any method actually available for testing the statement. For all
that is required
is that some method of testing the statement (e.g. space travel) be
imaginable,
regardless of how unlikely it may be that we shall ever be able, in practice,
to actually carry out the method.33
Once this elementary distinction is understood, it is quite obvious that the
assertion "the resurrection occurred in history" can be meaningful
even if historical method is by its nature impotent to verify this claim. All
that is required is that some method other than the one historians
use be imaginable,
that could in principle verify the statement. And it takes only a
little imagination
to conceive of such a method. It is surely conceivable, for
example, that someday
a time-machine will be invented that would enable us to go hack to Jerusalem
and check things out first hand. This conceivability is all that
the Verifiability
Criterion re(lures: that time-travel is not (and might never be)
actually available to us is as irrelevant to the meaning
fulness of saying "the resurrection occurred in history (though present
"historical method" cannot show it)
as the fact that in 1801) space travel was not (and might never be) available
to men was irrelevant to the meaningfulness of them saying
"the other side
of the moon has craters (though present methods cannot show it)
Montgomery's appeal to the Verifiability Criterion
Evangelical apologists from history have not yet awakened to the contemporary analytic challenge.
is thus misguided. Even granting the Principle as our criterion of
meaningfulness,
Barth could consistently both deny that historical method has access to the
resurrection, and yet assert that it is meaningful to say that the
resurrection
occurred as a real space-time event in the past. (Indeed, the verifiability
criterion, properly applied, shows us precisely why this is consistent!) By
the same token, Flew's willingness to say (and, ipso facto, think that it is
meaningful to say) that the resurrection might have actually
occurred in history,
is entirely consistent with his argument that historical method, by
its nature,
could never give us sufficient reason to rationally believe that it
has in fact
occurred. The Verifiability Criterion, contra Montgomery, provides no escape
from the Flewian dilemma stated above.
The Challenge of the Contemporary Analytical Approach
The only readily apparent way for the apologist from history to
avoid the horns
of this dilemma, then, is to adopt a policy of systematic inconsistency with
respect to the probability-estimating procedures he employs. He must employ
the normal procedures when appraising the possibilities envisioned
by naturalistic
alternatives to the resurrection hypothesis, and abstain from these
procedures
when gauging the probability of the resurrection. Such a policy might not be
as indefensible as it at first blush appears to be. After all, if
and when Cod
does intervene in the normal course of events, one would not expect
the normal probability estimating procedures to be appropriate.
But to actually make such a policy defensible, one would have to be able to
specify in advance when it is appropriate to abstain from applying the normal
procedures. To pull this off, one would have to have some means of
determining
what sorts of events are genuinely miraculous, and one would have
to have ways
of "retrodicting" those conditions under which such miracles could
reasonably be expected to occur.
This, of course, brings us back to the need for criteria for
determining "miraculousness"
that I began with. To surrender such criteria into the hands of
"practical
psychology" (perhaps baptizing our own psychological responses
as "recognitions
of what is selfevident") would not merely make the issue of whether an
event is a miracle a matter of subjectivity-although this alone should drive
any serious apologist from history to existential despair. It would
also threaten
to preclude the possibility of establishing on tough-minded
historical grounds
that our putative miracle even occurred. This threat, which we are obligated
to Flew for presenting so lucidly, might he dissolved by a more
searching analysis:
I am not claiming that Flew's arguments are irrefragable. The purpose of this
paper is fulfilled if by probing Montgomery's position with some
Flcvian questions,
I have to some extent vindicated my suggestion that evangelical
apologists from
history have not yet awakened to the contemporary
analytic challenge.
NOTES
1Here and elsewhere I intend "rational" to mean
"reasonable":
it is not to he identified with "logically provable" as
the so-called
"rationalists" (who might more perspicuously be labeled
"logicalists")
in their poorer moments thought. To ask whether a belief is
rational is to ask
whether, all things considered, there are good reasons for holding
it: but "good
reasons" need not, and generally do not, purport to provide
demonstrative
proof. Cf. S. E. Toulmin, The Uses of Argument (Cambridge:
Cambridge University
Press, 1958).
2I do not know to what extent this apologetic was employed before
the seventeenth
century. Augustine seems to invoke it ("Freedom of the Will," ch.
2, sec. 5), and the clearest prototype in the New Testament seems to be John
9:3034. On the dangers of anachronistically reading the modern
apologetic intent
into the various ways the biblical writers appealed to "history,"
see D. Ivan Dykstra, "Historicity," re-run with corrections in The
Reformed Review 27 (Autumn, 1974): 60-68. But Dykstra's argument
suggests that
the apologetic from history is a "modern phenomenon" in the sense
of being peculiar to mid-twentieth-century evangelicals. If this is
his intent,
it is mistaken: at most this apologetic strategy is modern in the
sense in which
science is modern-like "modern science," it may not have taken hold
until the seventeenth century.
3The New York Times Magazine, March 30, 1975, p. 87.
4See for example C. S. Lewis, Miracles, A Preliminary Study (New
York: Macmillan,
1947), esp. p. 113. Other evangelical proponents include John
Montgomery, Clark
Pinnock, John Cerstner, Michael Green, F. F. Bruce, John Stott, B. C. Sproul,
and Daniel Fuller.
5See especially Antony Flew's discussions in Home's Philosophy of Relief (New
York: Humanities Press, 1961), eh, 8; God and Philosophy (New York:
Dell, 1967),
ch. 7; and "Miracles," in P. Edwards, ed., The
Encyclopedia of Philosophy
(New York: Macmillan, 1967). See also R. Hepburn, Christianity and
Paradox (Suffolk:
C. A. Watts, 1958), ch. 6 and 7. Flew's most recent discussion is
"Parapsychology
Revisited: Laws, Miracles and Repeatability," in The Humanist
xxxvi (May/June,
1976), pp. 27-30.
6I borrow this useful word from F. R. Tennant who coined it in his
Miracle and
Its Philosophical Presuppositions (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1925),
7TIse argument assumes, of course, that God would not give such
miraculous attestation
to a teacher teaching theological falsehoods; to justify this
assumption would
require a particularly strong "natural theology" which
few contemporary
apologists from history (unlike their predecessors in earlier centuries) even
attempt to provide.
Two important early-modern discussions of the meaning
of "miracle" are found in H. C. Alexander, ed., The Leib
niz-Clorke Correspondence (New York: Barnes and Noble, 1965), from Clarke's
fourth reply on, passim; and in John Locke The Reasonableness of
Christianity,
with a Dis
course on Miracle ed. I. T. Ramsey (Stanford: Stan
ford University Press, 1958).
8David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (New York:
Bobbs-Merrill,
1955), p. 122. Specious characterizations of Home's epochal critique of the
apologetic from history are multitudinous: the outstanding
corrective is Flew's
Home's Philosophy of Relief, ch. 8. Flew effectively criticizes the popular
reply to Hunse that C. S. Lewis gives in Miracles, eh. 13.
9Flew, God and Philosophy, p. 148.
10This is a "conditional necessity": if one employs the apologetic
from history, one must invoke this definition (or a closely similar one) to
sustain the argument.
11See T. S. Kuhn, The Copernican Revolution (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press,
1957), pp. 206-207.
12For a discussion of this image of Newtonian inductivism, as it
was propagated
by the Scottish common-sense realists, especially Thomas Reid, see Laurent L.
Laudan, "Thomas Reid and the Newtonian Turn of British
Methodological Thought,"
in B. E. Butts and J. IV. Davis, eds., The Methodological Heritage of Newton
(Oxford: Blackwell
and Toronto University Press, 1969). I believe, but cannot argue here, that
conservative theological seminaries continued to use Reid's texts
as authoritative
on "scientific method" long after virtually everyone else
recognized
their superficialty; and that the Princeton apologists Charles Hodgc and B. B.
Warfield-presuppose Reid's image of scientific method. For a clear
illustration
of the way Reid's inductisism earmarked popular evangelical
apologetics in the
nineteenth century see G. P. M'Ilvaine, The Evidences of
Christianity (Philadelphia:
Smith. English and Company, 1861 ), pp. 375-391. For a pithy
discussion of the
development of the rival "fallibilist" trend in
scientific methodology
-which contrary to Montgomery's suggestions began long before the twentieth
century-see L. L. Laudan, "Peirce and the Trivialization of
the Self-Correcting
Thesis" in R. Westfall and B. (here, eds., Foundations of
Scientific Method:
The Nineteenth Century (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1973), The unexcelled
analysis of the impact of images of scientific method on the
history of thanmatology
is Tennant's Miracle and Its Philosophical Presuppositions.
13Adolf Criinbaum has posed this challenge very succinctly in
"Science and
Ideology," The Scientific Monthly 79 (July 1954): 15-16.
14That "Probability is the very guide of life," from the
Analogy...
I have the disconcerting feeling that twentieth-century evangelical
apologists
are often as unreflective about invoking the concept of
"probability"
as their predecessors were in invoking the formulas of
"demonstrative inductions"
and "self-evident truths" that Reid told them were the
core of empirical
method. The last thirty years of epistemological research have led
epistemologists
to an increasingly widespread apprehension that very little light is thrown
on the nature of most empirical inferences by the theory of probability; and
many philosophers of science (for example Karl Popper and his followers) urge
that it is indefensible to speak of scientific theories, for
example, as having
some estimable "probability" of being true.
15To my knowledge, the only sustained attempt to supply such criteria is R. C.
Swinburne's The Concept of Miracle (New York: Macmillan, 1970). Swinburne's
approach, taking a major cue from Ninian Smart's Philosophers and Religions
Truth (SCM Press, 1962), is in my judgment inadequate; but this will have to
be saved for another paper.
16John Montgomery, History and Christianity, available in either reprint or
book form from, respectively, His reprints or Intervarsity Press)
Downers Grove,
Illinois, 1964, 1965). (Also reprinted with minor changes in
Montgomery's Where
Is History Going? [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1969].) Page references
are to hook
form. P. 75.
17An appropriate entrance into contemporary historiography of
"the Newtonian
epoch," for those who want to move past Montgomery's simplification, is
provided by P. M. Heimann, "Newtonian Natural Philosophy and
the Scientific
Revolution," History of Science 11, pp. 1-7. See also M. C.
Jacob, "Early
Newtoniauism," History of Science 12, p. 142-146.
18The definitive work remains Helene Metzger's Attraction
unieerselle et religion
siatnrelle chez qnelrtoes commentateurs anglais de Newton (Paris:
Hermann, 1938).
See also E. A. Burtt, The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern
Science (New York:
Doubleday, 1925), c-h. 7; and Ahcxandre Koyre, Newtonian Studies (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1965), ch. 1. In the primary
literature, two very
revealing sources are Unpublished Scientific Papers of Isaac Newton, eds. A.
R. Hall and M. B. Hall (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962), pp. 139
fl; and Newton's letters to Bentley, in Isaac Newton's Letters and Papers on
Natural Philosophy, ed. I. B. Cohen (Cambridge: Harvard University
Press), especially
the famous third letter. As antidotes to the widespread misinterpretation of
this third letter, which has it that Newton did not really believe
in action-at-a-distance,
this should be read in conjunction with Richard Bentley's "A Confutation
of Atheism," in Newton's Papers and Letters, esp. pp. 240241;
E. Meyerson,
Identity and Reality (New York: Dover, 1930), pp. 452-456; and L.
Laudan, "Comments
on Buehdahl," in R. Steuwer, ed., Minnesota Studies in the Philosophy of
Science, vol. 5, pp. 230-238.
19Einstein expressed his conviction: "I believe in Spinoza's God who reveals
Himself in the orderly harmony of what exists, not in a God who
concerns himself
with the fates and
actions of human beings." Sehilpp, ed., Albert Einstein:
Philosopher-Scientist
(La Salle: Open Court Publishing Company, 1970), pp. 659-660. The
"deistic"
connotation of this passage, however, is misleading: in other
contexts Einstein
made clear that he did not believe in a God "behind' this
orderly harmony
of what exists; rather, for him (as for Spinoza) God is this
orderly harmony.
20Montgoniery, History and Christianity, p. 76.
21"Inspiration and Infallibility: A New Departure," in The Suicide
of Christian Theology (Bethany Fellowship, 1971), pp. 344-345.
22Montgomery's more general thesis in this passage is that the Verifiability
Criterion of Meaning shows how the theological statement is
rendered cognitively
meaningful by virtue of Jesus' connection of it with the verifiable
healing-claim.
At least as it stands, this thesis involves an error that the
exponents of the
Verifiability Principle were careful to avoid. The problem is that
if any statement
A has verifiable consequences, and thus is meaningful, then the
logical conjunction
of A-and-B will also have verifiable consequences -and thus
ostensibly be meaningful-even
if statement B is a blatant piece of metaphysical nonsense. For this reason,
in applying the Verifiability Principle one most stipulate that statement B
is not made meaningful by virtue of the verifiable consequences entailed by
A-and-B, unless those consequences are in some respect different
from the consequences
entailed by A alone. This crucial requirement seems to me to
completely undermine
Montgomery's thesis that the meaningfulness of Jesus' healing-claim somehow
spills over to make his forgiveness-claim meaningful: for the
verifiable consequences
entailed by the conjunction of these two claims are not, it seems
to me, different
from the verifiable consequences entailed by the healing-claim alone.
23Both articles are in Christian Scholar's Review: see Feioberg,
"History:
Public or Private?" (Summer, 1971), p. 329; and Nash, "The Use and
Abuse of History in Christian Apologetics" (Spring, 1971), p. 221.
24"Faith, History, and the Resurrection," Christianity
Today 9 (March
26, 1965): 4, reprinted as an Appendix to History and Christianity,
p. 91. This
existential appeal strongly resembles one strand of Wolfhart Pannenberg's position,
which is summarized and criticized by Herbert Burheno in "Pannenberg's
Argument for the Historicity of the Resurrection," Journal for
the American
Academy of Religion 40 (1972): 377.
25Cf, Luke 16:19-31. The implication of this passage is that
"psychologically" men may well find a resurrection quite
"religiously
unconvincing." The apologist from history must claim that they would in
this case be suppressing the rationally recognizable truth; but this claim is
arguable only if the apologist first produces the criteria that make genuine
miracles "rationally recognizable" as such. One "critic"
of Flew (Ersvin Lutzer, in "Putting Christian Faith on the Line,"
His magazine [April, 1974], pp. 24-25) seems to think that, even
without being
able to provide such criteria, he is entitled to charge that Flew "has
cut himself off from the possibility of discovering a revelation
from God"
by having "decided [in his "heart"] to live without
confronting
whatever god or gods there may be." Transparently, as an
attempt to bypass
the need for criteria, this is nothing but an ad horn inem reply.
26Cf. Flew, God and Philosophy, ch. 7; and "Miracles."
27History and Christianity, pp. 76-77.
28The justification with which we are entitled to assign a certain degree of
improbability to the occurrence of event X under specified conditions depends
upon (among other things) the size of our "sample," i.e. upon the
number of times we have had occasion to observe whether events like X do or
do not occur under these conditions.
29Lewis, Miracles, p. 104.
30These confusions often give rise to the assumption that the historian can
properly criticize "non-veridical" historical hypotheses
(i.e. those
which "explain away" historical testisssony as the
product of delusion,
fraud, or mistake) by pointing out the antecedent improbability of the events
posited by the hypotheses, but that "veridical"
hypotheses (i.e. those
taking the testimony at face value) are immune to this kind of
criticism. This
assumption, for example, seems to underlie Daniel Fuller's argument
in "Historical
Method and the Resurrection," The Journal of Bible and
Religion 34 (1966):
18-24. But John Venn shows-I believe conclusively that the value of testimony
of generally reliable witnesses is tremendously depreciated, when
such witnesses
testify to having observed an event with a low antecedent
improbability. I most
here simply refer the reader to The Logic of Chance (New York:
Chelsea, 1962),
ch. 12, 16, and 17.
31God and Philosophy, p. 145.
32"Inspiration ...," p. 330.
33This distinction is discussed at length by Arthur Pap in his An
Introduction
to Philosophy of Science (New York: Macmillan, 1962), pp. 18-22.