Conference Highlights

Just got back from the Open Theology and Science conference held April 10-12, 2008 at Asuza Pacific University.

It was quite a fun conference. My wife and baby daughter accompanied me, and we all had a good time. Baby Janelle was a big hit with the other participants. Unfortunately, one of the presenters, Bill Hasker, was not able to make the conference due to the whole airline grounding fiasco.

The conference opened with a plenary session by Francis Collins, head of the human genome project. He had a lot of good things to say about the integration of religion and science and even closed his talk by whipping out his acoustic guitar and leading the audience (about 300 people) in signing a hymn, "God of Faith and Learning".

I have two points of critique regarding what Collins said. First, he conflates the notion of common descent (for which he gave some rather impressive evidence) with naturalistic evolution, the idea that the historical process of descent that has given rise to the "tree of life" has involved no non-natural causes. The evidence for the latter thesis is scant and much less impressive. Second, his criticism of Intelligent Design invoked the standard “cooption” response to Behe's irreducible complexity argument. What Collins does not seem to realize is that this response in not even close to being a refutation of ID. That the bacterial flagellum “might” have been cobbled together from existing molecular components does not show that such a scenario is even remotely plausible.

The following morning, things got underway with a devotional from local pastor T. Scott Daniels of the Pasadena Nazarene Church (he called it "Paz Naz" for short). His talk was entitled "Waiting for the Church to Open". He told of a homeless woman who, despite the assistance they've tried to give her, always waits outside for the doors of the church to open so. When they do, she partakes of the free coffee and refreshments inside and attends the service. Daniels related this to the position of many open theists, who often feel rather "homeless" in the modern American church scene. Often suspected (wrongly, I submit) of heresy, some have found themselves booted out of or ostracized from the fellowship of other Christians. The analogy certainly resonated with a number of people at the conference, myself included.

I'll spare a detailed recounting of each of the presentations I heard. All of them were interesting, and everyone at the conference was exceeding nice. One thing I particularly enjoyed was the opportunity to hang out with the likes of Robin Collins, Dean Zimmerman, Greg Boyd, and Patrick Todd (a grad student at UC Riverside whom I've interacted with by email but had never met face-to-face).

My own presentation on "The Fourfold Openness of the Future" went quite well. I had a good discussion with the above-mentioned folks, as well as Alan Padgett. I've still got to iron out some kinks in my argument. When I get in polished a bit, I'll post it here.

The final evening all of us involved with the conference went over to Karen Winslow's house (she's an Old Testament scholar at Azusa Pacific) where we ate dinner and hung out discussing things like the problem of evil, the metaphysics of time, and South Park until late in the evening. Sunday morning, my wife and I went to the Winslow's church (Karen's husband, Dale, pastors a Free Methodist church a couple blocks from Azusa Pacific). I had never been to a Free Methodist service before. It was nice. The people there were very friendly.

Open Theology and Science

The next four days I'll be at an "Open Theology and Science" conference at Azusa Pacific University in California.

While there, I'll be reading a paper entitled "The Fourfold Openness of the Future" in which I distinguish between four different ways in which the future may be thought of as "open" - causal, ontic, alethic, and epistemic - and argue that if the future is causally open (i.e., universal determinism is false) then it has to be open in the other three respects as well. If this is right, then the options for theists reduce to two: (1) theological determinism, according to which the future is open in none of those four respects, or (2) a version of open theism according to which the future is open in all of those four respects.

I'll also be participating in a Q&A panel in which I'll be briefly (2-3 minutes) responding to a recent criticism of open theism by Jonathan Kvanvig.

Baby at 3 Months

A couple weeks ago, right around Easter, my daughter Janelle had her first quarter-birthday. Here are four of my favorite pictures. (click to enlarge)

Proud Father	Porcelain Doll
Wide Eyed	Say What?

Notre Dame, Here We Come

A couple weeks ago I was offered a one-year postdoc position at the University of Notre Dame's Center for the Philosophy of Religion. It's a great opportunity that my wife and I are both excited about. While there, I'll be working on a book project. Tentatively entitled "The Openness of the Future and the Openness of God", it's going to be a philosophical defense of open theism. Basically, I'm aiming to do for open theism what Tom Flint, the director of the Center, has done for Molinism, one of open theism's main competitors in the intellectual marketplace of philosophical theology.

The Problem With Postmodern Theology

This is an example of why theological claims ought to be taken seriously as objective truth claims and not, as the counselor in this scene suggests, as simply matters of perspective ("It's up to each one of us to interpret what God wants").



Francis Beckwith's comments on this scene are apt:

He is guilty, and he knows it. What he fears is that God will give him what he deserves. What he fears is that God is fair and just and has not condescended himself to provide grace for our forgiveness. The chaplain tried to dupe him into believing that the guilt is not real and that he can save himself. She patronized him and then was offended that he didn't think it was a favor. She is a counselor for what C. S. Lewis called "men without chests."

She should have offered to him the opportunity to reach out to Christ. Instead, her prescription was postmodern pablum. He saw right through it.

He wanted to fall naked before a just God and ask humbly for his grace. She thought it was beneath the dignity she doesn't believe he really has. She handed him gobbledy-gook, and he refused it.

Merlyn's Problem

In my spare time I like to read, and not just philosophy either, but literature, especially the so-called 'great works' and works in the sci-fi/fantasy genre. I recently completed Sir Thomas Malory's fifteenth-century classic, Le Morte d'Arthur. It's the primary source for the collection of tales that makes up the Arthurian legend - King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, the quest for the Holy Grail, etc. One of my reasons for reading Malory was to acquire some background so that I could more profitably read T. H. White's 1939 retelling of the Arthurian legend in his fantasy classic, The Once and Future King. White's title comes from King Arthur's epitaph (as recorded by Malory): Hic iacet Arturus, rex quondam rexque futurus.

Anyway, I've now started White's book. So far the characters are delightfully quirky. Given my philosophical interests in the nature of time, one aspect of Merlyn's character is particularly intriguing:

[Merlyn speaking to Arthur:] Now ordinary people are born forwards in time, if you understand what I mean, and nearly everything in the world goes forward too. This makes it quite easy for the ordinary people to live. . . . But I unfortunately was born at the wrong end of time, and I have to live backwards from in front, while surrounded by a lot of people who live forwards from behind. Some people call it having second sight. . . . You see, one gets confused with Time, when it is like that. All one's tenses get muddled, for one thing. If you know what is going to happen to people, and not what has happened to them, it makes it difficult to prevent it happening, if you don't want it to have happened, if you see what I mean? Like drawing in a mirror.

What I find interesting here is how Merlyn could even think that he could prevent what has happened if time is as he relates it here. He seems to be describing as merely difficult ("like drawing in a mirror") something that seems to be logically impossible, namely, making it to be the case that what has happened has not happened, that is, changing the past. Indeed, if Merlyn's right about the nature of time, then the future is just as settled as the past, the distinction between them being merely a matter of perspective depending on which direction one is "moving" in time. If that's right, then the future can no more be changed than the past.

It's a Girl!!!

Here's a picture of my wife Heather, myself, and our new baby girl, Janelle Tiara. She was born 12/18. We picked her up from Catholic Charities on 12/22. Since then, we've both been very busy caring for Janelle, but we also feeling very blessed going into this new year.

Spatial Tenses

Now that Fall semester grades have been turned in I have a little time to do some blogging before things get really busy with (1) Christmas (12/25), (2) my wife and I bringing home our newborn adopted baby girl (12/26), and (3) my trotting off to the Eastern APA for job interviews (12/27-30).

I’d like to talk about spatial tenses. That's right, spatial tenses. Because we normally associate the word "tense" with time, associating it with space may seem odd, but in fact there’s nothing incoherent about it.

Consider the following:

Past tense: Yesterday, I ate a burrito.
Present tense: Right now I am sitting at my laptop.
Future tense: There will be a sea battle tomorrow.

In each case, the tense of the claim functions like a compass needle. It gives us a conceptual orientation by telling us what direction to go from the present moment to arrive at a specified event. The past tense tells us to work backwards from the present, at what is 'earlier than'. The future tense tells us to project forward from the present, at what is 'later than'. And the present tense tells us to consider how things are now, at what is 'simultaneous with' the present.

The essence of a tense, then, is that it provides directional orientation from a privileged reference point. In the case of time, this reference point is the 'now' or the 'present'. So-called tenseless claims contain no such point. For example, to say "There is [tenseless] a sea battle on 12/20/2007" I have to forget where I am in relation to 12/20/2007. If I allow myself access to information about whether that date is earlier than, later than, or simultaneous with 'now', then I've illicitly smuggled tense in through the back door.

To recognize spatial tenses all we need is a privileged reference point and a way of orienting things in space in relation to that reference point. Aristotelian physics includes just that. According to him, there is a privileged spatial reference point - the center of the universe - and a way or orienting things in relation to that center. Things can move 'toward' the center, 'away from' the center, or 'go around' the center. This shows that the notion of spatial tenses is not incoherent. Still, many people would doubt whether it is a useful notion post-Copernicus.

After all, it doesn't seem that there is any objective spatial reference point that we can identify and refer to. Perhaps there is an objective 'center of the universe', but even if that's so, do we have any way of identifying where is it? In the case of time we can identify the present by self-reflective introspection. But even there a question arises whether the present so identified is the present or merely a present? On the one hand, A-theorists believe that tense (in the temporal sense) is an objective feature of reality. According to them, there is an objective 'now' that we directly apprehend in the self-reflective immediacy of our own consciousness. Hence, we are in touch with the present. On the other hand, B-theorists deny the objective reality of tense. According to them, our use of tensed language merely reflects our subjective or egocentric perspective. For them, we cannot refer to the present, but only to a present.

In support of their position, B-theorists like to press an analogy between temporal and spatial tenses. In the first place, it seems that spatial words like 'here' and 'there' are merely subjective or egocentric. I say "Here I am" and you respond "Oh, there you are!" it seems clear that 'here' and 'there' merely serve to locate things in relation to the speaker. In the second place, it seems that 'here' and 'there' function exactly like the temporal words 'now' and 'then'. Hence, asks the B-theorist, why think that 'now' picks out the objective present when 'here' only picks out the speaker's location? Why not construe both terms in a subjective or egocentric way, such that 'now' simply means 'simultaneous with [this speech act, the time of this utterance, etc.]'?

Those are fair questions. It seems that the A-theorist has to either (1) identify an objective spatial reference point (but what?) or (2) insist on a brute difference between spatial and temporal tenses, with the former being merely egocentric and the latter not. The plausibility of (2) may be argued by pointing to differences in how we can orient ourselves in space and time. Space has three dimensions, which allows me to change position in relation to other things, to go elsewhere. This means that where I am is to some extent up to me. In addition, I can interact with other beings at other places (“Hey you, over there”). All this confirms the egocentric nature of ‘here’ and ‘there’. But time is different. I can't move around in time and go elsewhen, at least not until someone invents a functional time machine. When I am is not at all up to me. Nor can I interact with other beings at other times. I can only do so now. Of course, if a time machine could be invented - and that's a very big if - these disanalogies between space and time would collapse. But until then, it seems that the now constrains us as it would if it were objective, whereas the here does not.

Chatting With God

Here is a link to a silly bot that thinks it's God.

My conversation:

Me: Hello
God: Hello friend. What is your name?
Me: Don't you know?
God: Sure I know. But I cannot tell you right now.
Me: Why not?
God: Because Myself programmed me for it.
Me: Hmmm.
God: A lot of people spell HMMM with three mmm's.
Me: Why?
God: I couldn't think of anything else to say.
Me: Who are you?
God: I am the Allmighty, God himself.
Me: You misspelled "Allmighty"
God: My botmaster is not a perfect speller.
Me: I guess that means you're not infallible.
God: I get it. That's only your opinion.
Me: What should I pray for?
God: Are you asking me for advice?
Me: Yes.
God: Specifically, what kind of advice do you want?
Me: Where should I apply for jobs?
God: Wherever you think is best.
Me: Thanks. That helps a lot.
God: Don't mention it.

Why Is This Time the Present?

My occasional metaphysical sparring partner, Ian Spencer, poses the following objection to presentism - the view that only what exists now exists simpliciter:

Here's a problem for most forms of presentism - on most versions, there's no good answer to the question of why this time is the present one. That is, why does the stuff at this time (and in its current arrangement) exist rather than that of some other? Why isn't some other time the present one?

What I find puzzling here is the fact that Ian thinks this is a problem for presentism. After all, for the presentist the present time is the only time there is - the past is no more and the future is not yet. So to ask "why is this time the present?" sounds to a presentist's ears like asking "why is the present the present?" Not a very interesting question.

What I think Ian has in mind is a somewhat different question: "Why does the present have the configuration it now does?" The obvious answer is to say that the present configuration of the world is as it is because it developed from an earlier configuration in accordance with the causal powers, dispositions, choices, etc. that were in effect at that earlier state.

Here's an analogy. Imagine a world with the same physical laws as ours in which there is only a single homogeneous lump of radioactive material that God has just created ex nihilo. According to physics, the atoms composing this lump have a certain disposition to undergo radioactive decay. The strength of this disposition is reflected in the radioactive half-life of the substance. The lump will also have a disposition to emit photons due to a phenomenon known as black-body radiation. Finally, the atoms of the substance and the electrons on those atoms have kinetic energy, which depends on velocity, which is an instantaneous directional tendency to be elsewhere. Now, given the inherent dynamic tendencies in the lump, it will not, indeed cannot, remain in its initial state. But the moment something, anything happens - decay, photon emission, electron motion, etc. we no longer have the same configuration. The radioactive lump system, due to its own internal tendencies and causal powers, has changed from one configuration to another. And with change comes time. At each moment in the evolution of the system it is in a different state. Each state is the consequence of previous states. And, unlike what B-theorists seem to think, there is no need for previous states to "stick around" as static parts of a tenseless block universe.

In my experience, I've found that many people, philosophers included, are held captive by a certain conceptual metaphor when it comes to thinking about time. The metaphor is that of the "timeline". According to this metaphor, time is "stretched out" along a dimension and consists of multiple events ordered by temporal relations like "earlier than" and "later than". It's a familiar picture from history books. But it's a picture that presentists (with the partial exception of ersatzist presentists like Bourne and Crisp) thoroughly repudiate. For presentists, time is not a line. It does not consist in "earlier than" relations between events. It consists, rather, in the intrinsic dynamism of reality, especially the tendencies of things to become other than they now are. Ian may find that picture "spooky". So be it. I'm inclined to say the same about his block universe. We may just have to agree to disagree on this issue.