Vain Philosophies

"See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy…" (Col. 2:8)

Elizabeth was a bright young Christian with a keen interest in learning. Having been recently converted, she was eager to serve the Lord and when she was led to the Scriptures by her new Christian friends, she was delighted to learn everything she could. But Elizabeth's zealous friends grew increasingly worried about her attentive and persistent study of "secular philosophy" — the wisdom of the world. Eventually, Elizabeth was faced with a fork in the road: to continue with Christ or to investigate the ideas of mere mortals. After months of reluctant, but gradual, distancing of herself from her past, she had at last so filled her days with Bible study, prayer, evangelism, and fellowship on campus that she had forgotten the pain of leaving Aristotle's subtle discussions in the shadows of her worldly past.

Often, setting aside "worldly wisdom" occurs alongside the burning of the secular record albums, and Elizabeth's story doubtless finds empathetic readers among those working through this important issue of Modern Reformation.

But this tension is not new by any means. "It is philosophy that supplies the heresies with their equipment," declared the great second-century African father Tertullian. Facing such ominous threats as Gnosticism, which attempted to blend elements of Christianity, Judaism, and Greek philosophy, Tertullian snapped, "A plague on Aristotle, who taught them dialectic, the art which destroys as much as it builds." Tertullian appealed to a text that has since been much used (or perhaps abused), where Paul warns the Colossians, "Take heed lest any man circumvent you through philosophy or vain deceit, after the tradition of men" (Col 2:8). After all, Tertullian thundered, "What has Jerusalem to do with Athens, the Church with the Academy, the Christian with the heretic?" And why? "After Jesus Christ we have no need of speculation, after the Gospel no need of research. When we come to believe, we have no desire to believe anything else; for we begin by believing that there is nothing else which we have to believe." (1)

On the other hand, there was Tertullian's contemporary, Justin Martyr, who sought to prove Christianity's intellectual and philosophical superiority. Dressed in a philosopher's gown, he opened Rome's first Christian school. He addressed the Roman emperor Hadrian as, "the Philosopher, a lover of culture," and proceeded in his "plea for a fair hearing" by demanding that "Reason requires that those who are truly pious and philosophers should honor and cherish the truth alone, scorning merely to follow the opinions of even the ancients, if they are worthless." (2) Following a line of argumentation and evidence for Christianity's truth, Martyr rested the case finally on the reliability of the witnesses to Christ's resurrection and the fulfilled prophecies. Nevertheless, just as Tertullian's love for Scripture blinded him to God's common grace among the pagans, so Justin's appreciation for reason often led him to naively embrace secular ideas that undermined the biblical teachings on sin and grace, the nature of the soul and creation.

The famous paraphrase of Augustine's dictum, "All truth is God's truth," nevertheless kept the bishop of Hippo from falling into the trap of confusing the Gospel with secular wisdom. And yet, Augustine was himself heavily influenced by his earlier immersion in Neoplatonic and Manichaean heresies.

At the time of the Reformation, Luther and the other Reformers accused the Roman Catholic Church of having distorted the Gospel with pagan philosophy, whether through the classical rationalism of Plato, the moderate realism of Aristotle, or the relativistic penchant for "reconciling" opposites as advocated by the medieval Nicholas of Cusa (fifteenth century). Instead of exegeting clear biblical passages in order to discover the nature of God, humans, redemption, the Church, and sacraments, theologians were employing philosophical speculation. The Reformers, therefore, lashed out just as Paul had against confusing spiritual and earthly wisdom-not because they believed reason to be ungodly, but because they believed it had no place in determining the shape of "things heavenly."

In each period of great confusion and unfaithfulness on the part of the Church, worldly wisdom has been given the upper hand in shaping the Church's views of God, humanity, the world, history, and every other aspect of faith and life. No one has ever stood up, waved a flag, and shouted, "We're allowing the world instead of the Word to determine what we believe and how we live," and yet this is exactly what has happened in every period of decline. Karl Barth, in our own century, reacted so strongly against a Protestant liberalism that had reduced Christianity to a species of human behavior to be compared to other religions that he insisted that there was no such thing as natural revelation. God only reveals himself in the living and written word, he declared. To Emil Brunner's defense of natural theology (i.e., the study of that which can be known about God apart from Scripture, which seems to be sanctioned by Romans 1 and 2), Barth thundered back his famous, "Nein!" If Barth and Tertullian are correct, and an openness to philosophy in religion always ends up perverting both, why don't we simply plant our fingers in our ears, ignore the world, and read only the Bible? Haven't we at CURE argued for some time now that secular psychological, marketing, political, and sociological ideologies rule our antitheological church? Therefore, should we even waste our time with worldly wisdom, if the risk is so great? Yes, there are plenty of reasons to risk it, and here I will mention only a few.

1. Creation

When Paul warns, "See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ," he is not arguing in Tertullian-like fashion that Christians should regard all human wisdom and philosophy as hostile to the faith. The biblical warning is against confusing "things heavenly" with "things earthly," not against "things earthly" in general. Paul warns the Colossians against being so earthly-minded that their minds are not driven by the heavenly, the transcendent. In other words, secular presuppositions continued to guide their worldview when it should have been driven by theological, biblical convictions. Like Tertullian, Paul is wrestling with the Gnostics-those who blended Christianity and Greek philosophy. The result was a speculative mysticism, and instead of seeing Christianity as an announcement of something that happened (viz., the death and resurrection of Christ) with implications for the whole world, it was a "philosophy of life" that sought primarily to guide one toward a happier and more fulfilling life here and now. But unlike Tertullian, Paul does not advocate a total abandonment of philosophy, but instead argues for discernment. On this point, two observations should be made.

A. Confusing things heavenly and earthly trivializes things earthly.

This confusion of things heavenly and things earthly is a dangerous business. First, it trivializes the problems of this world. When people, for example, say that Jesus is the answer to racism, drugs, abortion, depression and broken homes, while these crises persist and very often do so within conservative Christian as well as secular circles, this trivializes these problems. After all, sin is a complicated thing and even Christians are sinful. We have, since the Fall, tangled ourselves up in a web of deceit, exploitation, manipulation, and willful neglect. As a race and as individuals, we have created a situation in which the path of sin is impossible to trace through every complicated turn. Some problems created by this sinful condition can be affected positively by the new life in Christ and by the influence of other Christians, but since they are sinful, too, the answers cannot always be that black and white.

Those who confuse things heavenly and things earthly also trivialize things earthly by assuming that, because of the Fall, there is nothing (or very little) that is true, good, or beautiful in the world that is not specifically Christian. Thus, we have the subculture of "Christian" books, music, art, and paraphernalia. We even have "Christian" entertainment, politicians, cruises, and so on. A "Christian Yellow Pages" allows the fingers to do the walking through the evangelical ghetto. And this was precisely the effect of this confusion during the Middle Ages also, before the Reformation distinguished and returned dignity to these two spheres. Note Calvin's remarks in this regard, against the "Fanatics" who thought secular pursuits "unspiritual" and, therefore, unnecessary:

Whenever we come upon these matters in secular writers, let that admirable light of truth shining in them teach us that the mind of man, though fallen and perverted from its wholeness, is nevertheless clothed and ornamented with God's excellent gifts. If we regard the Spirit of God as the sole fountain of truth, we shall neither reject the truth itself, nor despise it wherever it shall appear, unless we wish to dishonor the Spirit of God. For by holding the gifts of the Spirit in slight esteem, we condemn and reproach the Spirit Himself. What then? Shall we deny that the truth shone upon the ancient jurists who established civic order and discipline with such great equity? Shall we say that the philosophers were blind in their fine observation and artful description of nature? Shall we say that those men were devoid of understanding who conceived the art of disputation and taught us to speak reasonably? Shall we say that they are insane who developed medicine, devoting their labor to our benefit? No, we cannot read the writings of the ancients on these subjects without great admiration. We marvel at them because we are compelled to recognize how eminent they are.





But shall we count anything praiseworthy or noble without recognizing at the same time that it comes from God? Let us be ashamed of such ingratitude, into which not even the pagan poets fell, for they confessed that the gods had invented philosophy, laws, and all useful arts. Those men whom Scripture calls 'natural men' were, indeed, sharp and penetrating in their investigation of inferior things. Let us, accordingly, learn by their example how many gifts the Lord left to human nature even after it was despoiled of its true good. (3)

B. Confusing things heavenly and things earthly trivializes things heavenly.

This confusion of things heavenly and earthly also trivializes things heavenly. This happens when well-meaning Christians attempt to make God relevant. Heaven is too high, so instead of meeting God where he allows himself to be known (in revelation) through faith, they try to bring him down to earth (in experience) through speculation. In other words, they say, sermons on God's attributes, the saving work of Christ, the atonement and justification, sanctification and the sacraments-these are all "up there," removed from the "practical" realm of daily living. Therefore, things heavenly are subsumed into things earthly and the result is a message that is neither earthly enough to be timely and "on the cutting edge," nor heavenly enough to say anything really profound and other-worldly to a confused and wayward Church or society.

2. Taking Every Thought Captive

When Paul warns, therefore, about being deceived by vain philosophy, he has a particular problem in mind: this confusion of Christianity (centered on "things heavenly") with Greek philosophy (centered on "things earthly"), the latter of which was allowed to intrude carelessly on the former to the extent that the definitions of God, creation, human nature, history, and redemption were totally recast. Paul was not attacking philosophy per se, but Gnosticism in particular and the domination of theology by secular wisdom in general. That is precisely the problem we see in evangelicalism today, where, for instance, secular notions of the self are imported from pop psychology (which, ironically, has many affinities to Gnosticism itself).

But the same apostle who warns against the incursions of philosophy also calls on the Corinthian believers to encounter it: "We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Cor 10:5). How can we demolish arguments if we are (a) unfamiliar with the arguments in the first place, (b) uninterested in the merit of those arguments, and (c) incapable of refuting them?

Paul's picture in this passage is crystal clear: It is the image of a soldier who, not content to be on the defensive, is actively pursuing his challengers. Not waiting in the bushes to be ambushed and taken prisoner, or stationed safely behind the lines, the Christian should be eager to take his enemy captive. We always have to be careful with these images, however, in our day of "culture warring." The enemy is not the unbeliever or worldly institutions, but any and every idea or argument that has the audacious temerity to claim Christ's throne in dictating what we should believe about God, ourselves, redemption, and the meaning of life. The Reformers followed Paul in their love of learning, culture, art, philosophy, and literature. In fact, they and their heirs founded some of the greatest centers of learning in the western world, and encouraged a revival of the "humanities" (history, philosophy, languages, the arts). Nevertheless, when it came to defining the core matters which the Bible clearly addressed, they deemed human wisdom insufficient to penetrate the heavenly chamber.

From Genesis to Revelation, the Bible appeals to the intellect and heart as one. Unlike the Greek view, in which the mind and heart are split, the biblical perspective is that the heart is the seat of the intellect. This does not mean that the emotions have a priority over the intellect, but rather it is to suggest that there is an integration of both in the biblical portrait of human existence. After all, the fear of the Lord (an emotional response) is the beginning of wisdom, but it is the communication of certain facts about God and his activity that induces one to fear and love him, as the Psalms so powerful exhibit: "My heart overflows with a goodly theme" (NRSV Ps 45:1). It is after the recitation of God's saving work in Christ (predestination, calling, justification, glorification) that Paul leaps to his feet in praise: "What shall we say in response to this?" In order to respond, either emotionally or in active obedience, we must have something meaningful that merits that response.

3. Apologetics

Too often, well-meaning brothers and sisters walk into the middle of the skirmish, anxious to meet their enemy, only to be captured themselves or to be slaughtered before cheering onlookers. That is why we are told, "Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have," albeit, "with gentleness and respect" toward the inquirer (1 Pt 3:15). The accent here is on being prepared.

When Paul walked into the Areopagus to present the Christian claims, in Acts 17, he did not go in with a set of reductionistic arguments or references to his own "personal testimony" of what God had done for him. Nor did he ignore his audience's context. Citing by memory the poetry and prose of secular Greek philosophers, Paul built bridges of understanding with his hearers. He did this not by confusing things earthly (the Greek philosophy itself) with things heavenly, but by building from earth to heaven by using the natural revelation they had and then jettisoning the ladder once he reached the discussion of those matters reserved for special revelation (Scripture).

Those who do not know the strength of that which enslaves the unbeliever will never know how to free him or her. This does not mean that every Christian must suddenly become an expert on all of the branches of wisdom and knowledge in human history, but it does mean that the Christian witness cannot be naive. It cannot simply ridicule unbelief.

Conclusion

The Reformers attacked the "Sophists" who had turned the clear teaching of Scripture into puzzles and who had turned to secular wisdom to answer the questions they deemed the Bible insufficient to answer. It would be a mistake to see the Reformers as anti-philosophical or anti-intellectual, since they were champions of learning's renaissance. Even Luther's rambunctious references to reason as "the devil's whore" must be understood in the light of the sixteenth century battle: Human reason, which can never know that God is a forgiving Father who sent Christ as the sinner's substitute, must never be allowed to shape theology. When it is given that place, it always turns the Gospel into some form of works righteousness, because that is what makes sense to the fallen heart. "The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing," Paul said in 1 Corinthians 1:18, not because it is illogical or rationally indefensible, nor because it requires a leap of stupidity, often mislabeled as "faith." It is foolishness even to those who are convinced of its arguments. Pinchas Lapide, the eminent modern Jewish scholar who argued for the resurrection as a historical event, nevertheless expressed absolutely no interest in it as a solution to the problem between God and himself. It is foolishness to those who do not really believe they are sinners and that God is really holy. The cross misses them completely.

But that brings us back to Tertullian's argument: "After Jesus Christ we have no need of speculation, after the Gospel no need of research. When we come to believe, we have no desire to believe anything else; for we begin by believing that there is nothing else which we have to believe." This is, of course, where many contemporary Christians find themselves. But it confuses things heavenly and things earthly. Just because secular wisdom and knowledge cannot navigate the way to God through Christ does not mean that "we have no desire to believe anything else" that is not dependent on special revelation. That would render reading, writing, and arithmetic quite frivolous indeed. And simply because we seldom explicitly learn about the cross as God's plan of redemption from the arts and sciences does not mean that "after the Gospel [there is] no need of research." Think of the many victims of disease who have profited from the research of diligent scientists, regardless of those researcher's religious commitments. There is much worth knowing about things earthly that the Bible does not take the time to tell us. Further, the believer even depends on historical arguments, logic, and philosophical reasoning in making the case for Christianity. And yet, there is nothing about God, ourselves, and our relationship to God that the world can tell us more truthfully or more wonderfully than God himself has in his infallible Word.

With this business of "vain philosophy," then, we must beware of two dangers: First, we must not ignore the promises and perils of human wisdom. God gave and gives even unbelievers wisdom, justice, and civil righteousness. Even though these gifts are merely tokens of common rather than saving grace, they are not to be taken lightly. There is, therefore, no need to trivialize things earthly by feeling the need to "baptize" everything with religion. We do not need "Christian" fiction any more than we require "Christian" doorknobs. Second, we must also beware of the impact of secular thought on our own thinking and lifestyle at the point where it does clash with Scripture. There is nothing more obnoxious than the person who proudly despises "worldly wisdom" and avoids the study of secular disciplines, literature, and film, while displaying his or her indebtedness to secular psychology, marketing, politics, and sociology. I'm reminded of the pastor who warned me against reading secular authors, while he himself speculated on the day of Christ's return by appealing to current events in the newspaper, shared "biblical" tips for self-esteem (a major topic in the Bible, if you hunt for it, I suppose), and discovered the "biblical" position on every conceivable political issue-even if the Bible was not very useful for these ends. This pastor was shaped by secular wisdom just as surely as anyone else, but because he refused to see that "trickle-down" effect in his own thinking (since he did not receive it directly from reading the secular authors), he was, ironically, more prone to mistaking it for the Word of God.

Just as the defendant who cannot afford an attorney will nevertheless be given one by the court, so too every person has a philosophical outlook that even influences the way he or she reads the Bible-regardless of whether it comes through reading Sartre or watching Oprah, or whether it is sophisticated and urbane or merely superficial and of only passing relevance. It is an outlook that is either actively pursued or passively received as if by osmosis. If we naively assume that we are unaffected by our own context, we will stupidly miss the ways in which we are unfaithful to the biblical text because of our hidden prejudices. We must bring those prejudices into the open, judge them by the Word, and hold on to that which is good. We must appreciate secular wisdom, culture, art, and thought not just so we can resist their claims with better arguments, both for our own good and the good of others, but also so we can appreciate them. As Calvin warned, scorning them would cast a great aspersion upon the very Holy Spirit who showers even his enemies with gifts of common grace.