Defining Evil

Are we all capable of evil acts or is the idea of evil an antiquated notion that has been disproven by science? This is an important question with ramifications well beyond the existential world of philosophy. If we can say through science that “evil” is a word describing only a set of brain functions then we can dismiss its effects on people and society. But if evil is real then we must work to control it and curb its effects lest we destroy our society.

An article in Slate Magazine discusses the growing trend of pop-sci books on neurological research that degrade the notion of evil. Researchers studying such things examine brain scans to determine what occurs when people make particular decisions–in this case empathetic or evil decisions. The conclusion of a growing number of research is that evil decisions are made not because of some inherent tendency toward evil, but because of some kind of brain malfunction.

The article  points out that this is a troubling assertion for a number of societal reasons, but beyond the practical it seems like an asinine assumption. To assert that evil is not an inherent trait ignores life experience and plain reality. Although most of us would rather forget our awkward middle school years we can all remember incredibly evil acts perpetrated by fellow students against others. By and large those perpetrators did not grow up to be life-long criminals, proving some sort of brain dysfunction, but generally law-abiding “good” people. They simply perpetrated evil acts as part of the process of learning to control their own behavior.

Further testimony of inherent nature of evil comes from stories of children. Why do two year olds instinctively hit, bite, and kick other kids without reason? Why do they steal things from other kids and shout “mine” all the time? There is an inherent tendency within us all toward evil.

This is not to say that most of us are evil in the sense of Hitler or Stalin, but if we are honest with ourselves we recognize our own tendency to commit and think about committing awful deeds. If we are truly honest with ourselves we know that our own sense of goodness only extends so far as we all harbor dark memories and thoughts. If science can explain away these tendencies then we as a society will fail to grapple with the realities of decisions. In every moment of every day we make decisions to act in certain ways. Without a sense of our tendency toward evil we will be kept from moral behavior guided by a well-trained conscious. And that would lead to anarchy.

Some IR Humor for Your Friday

The Cynical Dairy Farmer’s Guide to the New Middle East: How a couple of cows explain a changing reagion.

Beginning with the old explanation of world politics based on two cows:

Socialism: You have two cows. The government takes one of them and gives it to your neighbor.

Communism: You have two cows. The government takes them both and provides you with milk.

Nazism: You have two cows. The government shoots you and takes the cows.

Capitalism: You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull.

the author then uses cows to explain Middle East politics.

Enjoy

Defining Protestantism

This is part of a series on the history of Christianity. Previous articles can be found here.

Having discussed the roots of the Reformation and Martin Luther, I am now going to look at the development of Protestantism in the 16th century. It is better to think of the movement as a group of many smaller movements or, perhaps, many protestantisms. In upcoming posts I’ll examine John Calvin, Huldrych Zwingli, the Anabaptists, the English Reformation, and the Catholic or counter-Reformation. But first, it is important to define what Protestantism means.

Inherent in the Reformation was a negative understanding of what it meant to be Protestant. Within the term itself is the word protest, and in many ways that is an accurate description of the reformers. They were protesting the right of the Roman Church and the Magisterium to interpret the Bible for the masses. They were protesting the right of Rome to control ecclesiastical affairs in Europe. They were protesting doctrines of the Medieval church they found contrary to the instructions and tenets of Scripture. Indeed, the legacy of Protestantism as a movement in opposition continues to this day. In the West we have traded Catholicism for Secularism as our primary enemy. In the global South many churches define themselves in opposition to Islam, while others continue to fight Catholicism, or in Pentecostal churches, traditional Protestant churches.

There are positive components to the definition of Protestantism as well. Alister McGrath points out that “In one sense, ‘Protestantism’ designates a way of doing theology rather than any given set of possible or specific outcomes.”[1] Central to this way of doing theology was the emphasis on the priesthood of all believers—the idea the Bible is the foundation of Christianity and should be accessible to all believers and authoritative in all manners of doctrine, faith, and practice. Protestantism then becomes the outworking of various groups of people studying the Bible and applying its teaching to their lives and realities. This is really the power of Protestantism. In its purest form, it is a movement unbound by structures of authority that limit its ability to adapt to social change and new challenges.

Luther represented the first generation of Protestantism, and after him came several key leaders and movements that shaped the history of Protestantism as we know it today. We’ll talk about these key leaders as this series continues.

 


[1] Alister E. McGrath. Christianity’s Dangerous Idea: The Protestant Revolution—A History from the Sixteenth Century to the Twenty-first. (New York: Harper One, 2007), 244.

Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation

This is part of a series on the history of Christianity. Previous articles can be found here.

H. Richard Niebuhr once said, “The great Christian revolutions come not by the discovery of something that was not known before. They happen when somebody takes radically something that was always there.”[1] We have seen that Martin Luther was not the first person to rediscover justification by faith articulated by Augustine and the Scriptures, yet his legacy is that of the father of the Reformation. In many ways this is accurate and his place in history is well deserved, but the birth of the Protestant Reformation cannot be placed solely on his shoulders. It is better understood in context of great upheaval in Europe in the 15th and 16th centuries.

Martin Luther was born in 1483 and become a monk as a teenager. He constantly wrestled with sin and his monastic superior encouraged him to study the Scriptures at the newly founded University of Wittenberg. Teaching and writing would become his life, and his writing would help solidify his legacy. Noll says that Luther “published some kind of treatise, sermon, lecture, or biblical exposition on the average of once every three weeks during his adult life.”[2]

We must also recognize that contemporary to Luther were several historical luminaries and events. Nicolas Copernicus (1473-1543), Henry VIII (1491-1547), Michelangelo (1475-1564), and Christopher Columbus (1451-1506) were all alive at the same time as Luther. He was alive at a time of great intellectual change and exploration. The printing press was invented around 1440, and without it the traction that the Reformation had is almost unthinkable.

Political and economic changes were also underway that had significant impacts on the ability of the Reformation to spread from and unimportant city in Germany across Europe in a matter of decades. The prototype of modern nationalism was on the rise as local monarchs started to harness power within their realm without regard for Rome or the Holy Roman Emperor. The economy began to recover in the 15th century after downturn and difficulty in the wake of the Plague. Indeed, without a recovering economy it is hard to imagine the great explorations that were undertaken by Columbus, Magellan, and Balboa.

Even within this atmosphere of change, it is important to recognize Luther’s contribution to the Protestant Reformation and Noll[3] is right to affirm the Diet of Worms in 1521 as a turning point in Christian History. Luther wrestled for years with his sin, seeing himself as a wretched creature unworthy of a terrifying God of justice and righteousness. The more he studied the more he worried about the state of his soul. This drove him to extreme obedience where he could echo the words of Paul in Philippians 3:2-6.

Look out for the dogs, look out for the evildoers, look out for those who mutilate the flesh. For we are the circumcision, who worship by the Spirit of God and glory in Christ Jesus and put no confidence in the flesh—though I myself have reason for confidence in the flesh also. If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day,of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.

But as he studied Romans, verses 1:16-17 continued to bother him: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written, ‘The righteous shall live by faith.’” But suddenly the meaning of this passage hit him and he could resonate with Paul in the rest of that passage in Philippians 3:7-11.

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

In 1520 he published five books among many smaller works that brought the ire of Rome and local church officials in Germany. In June of that year a Papal bull was issued decrying Luther’s works and in April of the following year he was called to the Diet of Worms under the authority of a young Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor and King of Spain, to recant his contrarian views. Luther’s heroic stand on the authority of the Bible over against the church and tradition is more remarkable when you consider the secular powers against whom he stood. Charles V controlled more European territory than any ruler since Charlemagne, and had the authority of Rome behind him. Without regard for his own safety, Luther stood his ground and declared, “Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Scriptures or by clear reason (for I do not trust either in the pope or in councils alone, since it is well known that they have often erred and contradicted themselves), I am bound by the Scripture I have quoted and my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and I will not retract anything, since it is neither safe nor right to go against conscience.”[4]

The importance of this event is perhaps more symbolic than effective in its long-term impact on Protestantism. But its symbolism is important and far-reaching when you consider part of the official response by the Diet. “But if it were granted that whoever contradicts the councils and the common understanding the church must be overcome by Scripture passages, we will have nothing in Christianity that is certain or decided.”[5] In uttering these words, Johann Eck could not have known how prescient they were. As Alister McGrath argues, this was Christianity’s dangerous idea. The Bible could and should be interpreted by all people.


[1] Quoted in Philip Yancey. What’s So Amazing About Grace. 13-14

[2] Mark A. Noll. Turning Points: Decisive Moments in the History of Christianity. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2000), 164.

[3] Ibid, 151ff

[4] Ibid, 154

[5] Ibid, 155