The leaves are turning
The leaves are turning
The color of fire
The color of gold
And the mountain sleeps
With a hoary head
At the coming of the cold
The wood the wood
The ancient wood
The scent of smoke
The frosty leas
See the leaves dance
To a silent tune and
The whisperings of trees
The average atheist will tell you that a deity of some kind may exist, but there is simply a lack of evidence to demonstrate that this is the case. But demonstrate in what way and with what evidence? Does the atheist really expect to conduct a laboratory experiment that will show the existence of God in the same way you would prove the existence of a microbe or mitochondria?
I ask because it is quite obvious that not all things are proved in the same way, and the honest searcher for truth should not expect to use the same method to prove dramatically different kinds of things. A detective seeking the identity of a murderer may seek fingerprints, DNA samples, or other material traces; An astronomer searching for the existence of extraterrestrial life might search for organized signals or patterns that could indicate intelligence; A child wanting to know she is loved doesn’t conduct an experiment; A philosopher presenting a deductive claim, like all bachelors are single, needs no evidence—it is true by definition.
I believe this question has far-reaching implications, for if the only issue truly separating the atheist from a reasonable belief in God is evidence, then the kind of evidence acceptable makes a great deal of difference. In fact, I would assert that if this question cannot be answered, it is meaningless to talk about God being an unreasonable or an unsubstantiated belief.
I have presented evidence for the existence of an immaterial, immutable mind—an intelligence—behind the fabric of the universe. It seems this would be a reasonable indication of the existence of a Being that is immaterial and immutable. Yet this was dismissed almost immediately and with no refutation. So I ask the purportedly open minded atheist, Taking into account the nature of God, what evidence would you accept for his existence and why? What evidence would be reasonable grounds for belief in a deity?
This post is part of a larger discussion with Leighton Taylor regarding reason, faith, and the existence God. Specifically, this post is in response to this comment. For more posts related to our discussion, please click here.
[dropcap]F[/dropcap]orgive me if this response is a bit lengthy, but I believe your problem is reasonable and legitimate, and therefore I want to address it in a reasonable manner.
First of all, I want to acknowledge that I am indeed prone to doubt. There have been times that I have doubted my faith. There have been times I have doubted whether it is possible to know anything at all. There have been times when I have doubted whether existence is not simply a dream. But ultimately, I have doubted my doubts, and found that to think in a rational way one must believe. Faith is a matter of existence, and of thinking at all.
Simply put, skepticism is not a system of thought, nor can it ever be. It is not possible in any way to build a rational framework on a negative principle. To argue, to think in an orderly way, one must believe a certain number of first principles as true, and you will find that inevitably these first principles are matters of faith. I am hoping to develop this idea further (if I can ever finish the post), but it is beyond the scope of this discussion. Suffice it to say that, yes, I do doubt, but doubt is never enough.
As for the passage in James, on which this discussion has come to focus, I have thought about it extensively, and questioned whether or not it is a promise which has been left unfulfilled. After further analysis, however, I see no way in which this is a failed promise. Let me further elaborate my position as I feel I was hasty in my first reply and left many aspects of this question unanswered.
Definitions
Before we can conclude whether or not this passage contains an unfulfilled promise, we need to precisely define what the passage actually says. To do this, it is necessary to return to the language in which the passage was originally written, Greek. It is obvious that the keywords in this particular verse are “heal” and “sick,” so it is on these words that I will concentrate. In Greek, the words for these are “sozo” and “kamno” respectively. For the sake of precision, here are the meanings of these words:
Sozo
From here.
Kamno
Regarding the first word, Sozo, the primary sense of the word is “salvation,” or being made “whole” (notice that this is the root of the word “salve”). But being saved from physical sickness is only one possible meaning, and it is not even the primary meaning at that. The great majority of the times this word is used in the New Testament, it is used in a spiritual context, of spiritual wholeness and wellness (I have linked to verses in Matthew, but the same holds true through the rest of the New Testament where this word appears). So could this word mean “heal” in the sense of making physically healthy again? It is possible, but it is only one possibility.
Regarding the second word, Kamno, does this word necessarily mean physically ill? Again, it is possible, but the primary sense is “to be weary” or “to faint,” and it is in this sense that the word is translated in the other places in which it appears in the New Testament.
Taking these definitions into account, it is entirely reasonable to render this verse in the sense that the prayer of faith shall strengthen, or make whole, those who are weary and faint—either spiritually or physically. In fact, Young’s Literal Translation renders it in this way:
“And the prayer of the faith shall save the distressed one, and the Lord shall raise him up, and if sins he may have committed, they shall be forgiven to him.”
Failed Promise?
Now that we have established what the verse actually says, I will address what the passage means and whether or not the statement made in this passage is unfulfilled.
As I have already pointed out, this passage is prescribing a path to wholeness—which is synonymous with salvation—either physically or spiritually. Indeed, we cannot neglect the spiritual implications of this passage, or forget that the human person has a spiritual as well as a physical nature. Of course to an atheist, this isn’t true, but the passage was not written by an atheist. At any rate, spiritual connotations are clearly present here, as verse 15 ends, “and if sins he may have committed, they shall be forgiven to him.” I notice that you did not include this in the verse as quoted on your blog, but it is nevertheless an essential part of the verse.
Therefore, it can be said that this passage carries with it both a physical and a spiritual dimension. And this is how the Church has historically understood it.
But does this mean we should always expect physical healing? If we look at the whole of the Bible, and not just this verse, it is clear that physical healing is not inevitable. This is not due to God’s inability to heal, but rather to the priority of the salvation, or healing and wholeness, of our souls, which is often accomplished through suffering. Redemptive suffering, or suffering as an instrument of salvation, is a theme that runs throughout the Bible. Here are just a few verses to that effect:
“Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.” Romans 8:17
“For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer.” 1 Corinthians 1:5-6
“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.” James 1:2-8
“I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death…” Philippians 3:10
“No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.” Hebrews 12:11
“But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” 1 Peter 4:13
In short, the Bible presents suffering as a medicine for sin and salvation. If we participate in and are united to the sufferings of Christ, we will also be participants in and united to his resurrection and glorification. Like a painful surgery or physical exercise, suffering always hurts at the time, but it leads to health and wholeness spiritually.
So what does this theology of suffering have to do with this passage? It has everything to do with it. In the Bible, Christ is presented as the healer of our bodies, but also of our souls. As a spiritual physician, he may use temporal and physical suffering to “cure” us spiritually. And sickness is a form of suffering. If physical suffering can lead to our spiritual healing, God may choose not to heal us.
Now before you dismiss this idea, there is an exact example of this concept in the Bible. In 2 Corinthians 12, Paul relates to the Corinthians that he asked Jesus directly three times to relieve him of his severe physical suffering—many believe this was related to a chronic eye condition. If Jesus was concerned only about our physical well being, it would be reasonable to expect this request to be answered instantaneously, especially for someone of the spiritual stature of the Apostle Paul. Each time, however, Jesus responded, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” In other words, Christ was more concerned with Paul’s spiritual purification and wholeness (salvation) than he was about his physical salvation from sickness.
This is not to say God doesn’t heal physically. I have already stated that he does and he has. But in this age of the world, our physical redemption does not carry the weight or priority of our spiritual redemption. Our bodies will die. This is inevitable. But as Christians, we believe in the eventual redemption, restoration, and salvation of our bodies which will take place at the resurrection and consummation of the age. Our souls, however, will not die, nor will they be resurrected. So spiritual wholeness takes precedent for now.
Again, I apologize for the great length of this, but I believe it was important to show that this verse, at least from a Christian perspective, is in no way inconsistent with the whole of the Christian message of redemption of both our souls and bodies. Christian theology is an interconnected whole, and one part should never be separated from the others—the theology of healing cannot be separated from the theology of suffering, which cannot be separated from the theologies of sin and salvation. In short, this is not a failed promise, it is very much being fulfilled as we daily die and yet live.
Currently, I am in the process of reading the stirring epic, Les Misérables, by Victor Hugo—one of the greatest works of Romantic literature, and one which I wholeheartedly recommend. While I have yet to finish the book (I have quite a ways yet to go; it is a massive work), I have so far come across many memorable and profound gems of truth in it. Some of the most beautiful of these are passages dedicated to describing the good Bishop who was to have such a profound influence on the wretched and desperate Jean Valjean. Below are a but a few of my favorite sections.
The Bishop
He knew how to say the grandest things in the most vulgar of idioms. As he spoke all tongues, he entered into all hearts.
….
He condemned nothing in haste and without taking circmstances into account. He said, “Examine the road over which the fault has passed.”
….
“Man has upon him his flesh, which is at once his burden and his temptation. He drags it with him and yields to it. He must watch it, cheek it, repress it, and obey it only at the last extremity. There may be some fault even in this obedience; but the fault thus committed is venial; it is a fall, but a fall on the knees which may terminate in prayer.”
….
“The faults of women, of children, of the feeble, the indigent, and the ignorant, are the fault of the husbands, the fathers, the masters, the strong, the rich, and the wise.”
….
Words to a despondent yet repentant criminal before his execution: “God raises from the dead him whom man slays; he whom his brothers have rejected finds his Father once more. Pray, believe, enter into life: the Father is there.”
….
He sought not to efface sorrow by forgetfulness, but to magnify and beautify it by hope.
….
Sometimes he dug in his garden; again, he read or wrote. He had but one word for both these kinds of toil; he called them gardening. “The mind is a garden,” said he.
….
“The most beautiful of altars,” he said, “is the soul of an unhappy creature consoled and thanking God.”
….
“Ecclesiastes calls you the All-Powerful; the Maccabees call you the Creator; the Epistle to the Ephesians calls you Liberty; Baruch calls you Immensity; the Psalms call you Wisdom and Truth; John calls you Light; the Books of Kings call you Lord; Exodus calls you Providence; Leviticus, Sanctity; Esdras, Justice; the creation calls you God; man calls you Father; But Solomon calls you Compassion, and that is the most beautiful of all your names.”
….
“The infinite is. He is there. If the infinite had no person, person would be without limit; It would not be infinite; in other words, it would not exist. There is then, an I. That I of the infinite is God.”
Jean Valjean, Ex-Convict, Meets the Bishop
“Monsieur le Curé,” said [Valjean], “you are good; you do not despise me. You receive me into your house. You light your candles for me. Yet I have not concealed from you whence I come and that I am an unfortunate man.”
The Bishop, who was sitting close to him, gently touched his hand. “You could not help telling me who you were. This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has grief. You suffer, you are hungy and thirsty; you are welcome. And do not thank me; do not say that I receive you in my house. No one is at home here, except that man who needs a refuge. I say to you, who are passing by, that you are much more at home here than I am myself. Everything here is yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me you had one which I knew.”
[Valjean] opened his eyes in astonishment. “Really? You knew what I was called?”
“Yes,” replied the Bishop, “you are called my brother.”
Valjean’s Struggle
Thus did this unhappy soul struggle in its anguish. Eighteen hundred years before this unfortunate man, the mysterious Being in whom are summed up all the sanctities and all the sufferings of humanity had also long thrust aside with this hand, while the olive-trees quivered in the wild wind of the infinite, the terrible cup which appeared to Him dripping with darkness and overflowing with shadows in the depths all studded with stars.
The Really Human Things 