Heaven and Hell in Christian Thought - Thomas Talbott (1): Introduction

These posts relate to the article "Heaven and Hell in Christian Thought" by Dr. Thomas Talbott as published in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.  

This essay strikes an excellent balance between being concise and being thorough in laying out the arguments and viewpoints of various Christian schools of eschatological thought without resorting to caricatures.  His project is careful to present each of these viewpoints at their strongest, for only then can productive dialogue occur.

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First off, a few things that worth mentioning before getting into the meat of the essay itself.

This is an entry in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

That's right.  Philosophy.

To some degree, be prepared to read philosophy and to think philosophically.  You don't need to be a PhD to read it (PhD = doctor of philosophy by the way).  But while lucid and concise, it is not a particularly fast or easy read.  This essay as characterized by careful and precise logic, an inconsistent triad, a "rejection hypothesis", a theoretical person characterized as a rather impersonal "sinner S", etc.

So if you have some religiously conditioned aversion to philosophy (it being the presumptuous and self-glorifying "wisdom of men") you'll have to (at the very least) lay that aside.  The fact is that, whether knowingly or unknowingly, any type of theological thinking involves philosophy.  Every thinking person is engaging philosophy at some level.  This includes me and you.  To think otherwise is simply naive.

But make no mistake about it, this essay is thoroughly grounded in the Christian tradition and engages with many of the most influential thinkers in the history of Christian thought, both modern and ancient.  C.S. Lewis, Augustine, Calvin, Arminius, Jonathan Edwards, Anselm, George MacDonald, Jerry Walls, William Lane Craig - they're all here, along with a host of contemporary philosophers of various theological persuasions.  The goal is to represent the various streams of thought at their strongest and/or most commonly held forms, not to find silly straw-man arguments to dismantle.  The eastern branch of the Christian tradition is largely absent, however, which is unfortunate.

With it's philosophical tone and focus, the intent and form are not the same as one written for a biblical or theological journal.  You won't find extensive biblical references or a wide array of unexplained proof texts.  You won't find discussions about "biblical inerrancy" or arguments over the precise nature of the authority of the sacred texts of Christianity.  You won't find much discussion on church tradition or authority.

Given that the essay occurs in the context of the Christian thought, it was a little surprising that you find very little mention of Christ throughout the essay.  There is very little mention of incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection.  There is no atonement theology here.  No argument over the mechanics of precisely how salvation "works".

How can this be?!

Truth be told, I'm not scandalized by it.  Not in the least.  As this is an essay in a philosophical journal, it is concerned primarily with the particular ways that different traditions conceive of heaven and hell.  "Fair enough", you may say, "but are philosophy and theology in competition with one another?"

Indeed, in the end I don't think that they are.

But while I think that any talk of a Christian doctrine of heaven/hell must include the person of Jesus Christ and the narrative of incarnation, crucifixion, resurrection (rather than individual proof texts that are used as "data"), it's not quite so easy as that.  The indisputable fact is that the variety of issues inherent in the eschatological thinking that is the subject of this essay can't be dismissed by hand-waving and appeals to various authorities or tradition or even to Christ Himself, because the various Christian eschatological views ALL do this in various ways.  The elucidation of that truth has been, for me, eye opening.

In a paragraph that pretty well summarizes the essay, Talbott says:

"When we turn to the theological and philosophical literature in the Christian tradition, we encounter, as we would in any of the other great religious traditions as well, a bewildering variety of different (and often inconsistent) theological views.  The views about hell in particular include very different conceptions of divine love, divine justice, and divine grace, very different ideas about free will and its role (if any) in determining a person's ultimate destiny, very different understandings of moral evil and the purpose of punishment, and very different views about the nature of moral responsibility and the possibility of inherited guilt."

While I'd expect that anyone reading an essay on "Heaven and Hell in Christian Thought" may have some idea of the issues at hand and the variety of views that exist, the depth and profundity of these differences can be a bit shocking.  It was and is for me.  In a sense, you may even come to think that people aren't simply arguing abstract theology, but that they're talking about "different Gods" in terms of the one God's purposes, nature, salvific will, etc.

Any way you see it, Talbott's project is to take this variety and to carefully and precisely distill it.  Strip it down into it's simplest form, and from there we might more closely understand and examine the issues at hand, and how we might better understand the way that the these issues affect the way that we see the nature of the Christian Gospel, and the human condition.  The fruit of the project isn't as abstract as the moniker of "philosophy" might lead a person to believe.  It is intensely practical and immanent to those of who are inclined to this topic - the very types that are willing to read this essay.

As I'll write about in the next post, Talbott does this by breaking down this "bewildering variety of different (and often inconsistent views) theological views" into Three Primary Eschatological Views.  Talbott also introduces his Inconsistent Triad in this upcoming section, an immensely helpful way (and one to which I often return) to characterize these three primary views.

continue to part 2

Free-will, Freedom, Universalism, and the Allure of Love (John A.T. Robinson)

It is probable that the mental picture usually conjured up of the relation between divine omnipotence and human freedom is that of two irresistible forces each pulling in opposite directions. If, per impos­sibile, one were to gain a painful inch here or there, it could only be at the expense of the other’s loss: submission to the power of God must involve the abandonment of the freedom of man. But have we any rea­son to think that this is at all an accurate picture of what happens when will meets will in the personal relationship of love? Surely, it is grossly misleading.

We all know times, when a man or woman really shows his or her love for us, whether it be in some costly manifestation of forgiveness or self-sacrifice or in some small act of kindness or consideration, that we feel constrained to respond—we cannot help ourselves, everything within us tells us that we must. Our defenses are down, the power of love captures the very citadel of our will, and we answer with the spon­taneous surrender of our whole being. Yet, at the same time, we know perfectly well that at such moments we can, if we choose, remain un­moved; there is no physical compulsion to commit ourselves. Everyone may point to instances in which he has been constrained to thankful re­sponse by the overmastering power of love. And yet, under this strange compulsion, has anyone ever felt his freedom infringed or his personal­ity violated? Is it not precisely at these moments that he becomes con­scious, perhaps only for a fleeting space of time, of being himself in a way he never knew before, of attaining a fullness and integration of life which is inextricably bound up with the decision drawn from him by the other’s love? Moreover, this is true however strong be the con­straint laid upon him; or, rather, it is truer the stronger it is. Under the constraint of the love of God in Christ this sense of self-fulfillment is at its maximum. The testimony of generations is that here, as nowhere else, service is perfect freedom. When faced by an overpowering act of love, we realize how absurd it is to say that the freedom and integrity of our moral personality are safeguarded only if we set our teeth and determine not to allow ourselves to be won to its service. If, then, we do not lose, but rather find, our freedom in yielding to the constraining power of love, is there anything to be gained for the cause of liberty by demanding that when it is under the control of self-will it shall in the end be stronger than when it is under the control of love? May we not imagine a love so strong that ultimately no one will be able to restrain himself from free and grateful surrender? If the miracle of the forcing of pride’s intransigence—which is no forcing but a gentle leading—can be achieved in one case (St. Paul would say, in my case), who are we to say that God cannot repeat it in all? One by one, may not each come to the point at which he finds himself constrained to confess in the words of Charles Wesley:

I yield, I yield,

I can hold out no more;

I sink by dying love compelled

To own thee conqueror!

In The End, God…, by John A.T. Robinson, p 105-106