ÿþ<table border="1" cellspacing="150" cellpadding="50" align=""> <tr> <td> <font face=arial size=3><b><nobr>Moral Absolutes</nobr><br></b> <i><font face=times>Is constant change a constant?</i></font face=times><br> <font size=1>Occasionally updated and edited. Copyright &copy; 2011<hr> Kenn Gividen | <a href="http://www.kenngividen.com">KennGividen.com</a><br> <br><br> </font size=1> <font size=2><br> <img src="http://kenngividen.com/pic/kenn" border="1" width="100" hspace="10" align="left">I've never cared to engage in heated debate with theists. It's not that I don't like to debate; in fact, I savor the intellectual challenge of charging headlong into a give-and-take exchange, the strategic placement of rope-a-dope lures, and befuddling my opponent with analogical quips that persuade listeners to agree with my perspective. <br><br> When talking with Christians about the existence of God &#8212; or anything supernatural &#8212; I prefer to simply compare notes. There is no desire to hamstring, hogtie or choke hold friends of faith. Rather, I present facts and allow my companions to absorb or reject them at will. I prefer to listen more than talk, answer rather than ask most questions, and allow my friends to control the conversation. There is no audience to persuade; just two people sipping coffee or cola while doing a bit of consensual mind probing. It's not a contest; it's a conversation. <br><br> Not all Christians share my approach. Some friends position themselves across the table and surge into their apologetics monologue with such intensity and conviction you would think they were on national television. Try to get a word in edgewise? Impossible. And there's nothing so amusing as watching pastor friends flail their hands about restaurant tables as if they were preaching to packed houses. Truth is their congregations consists of none but me, curious patrons at nearby tables, and consternated waitresses wishing we'd leave so they can collect their tips. <br><br> Harold was one such Christian. He had read the latest pop-Christian books on apologetics, was convinced thoroughly of his iron-clad arguments, and was certain that any non-theist would wilt in the sunlight of his brilliant wisdom. I was expected to do the wilting. <br><br> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6mK3_keJk2U/Te-CdKOMWNI/AAAAAAAAGdw/faX_AlEAi2U/s400/commandments_diversity_moses_1310785.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6mK3_keJk2U/Te-CdKOMWNI/AAAAAAAAGdw/faX_AlEAi2U/s400/commandments_diversity_moses_1310785.jpg" align="left" hspace="10" width="25%" border="0"></a> It began with what I call 'the Christian smirk.' It's that silly grin that graces the faces of those who think they've posed the irrefutable argument. The smirk is augmented with a confident dead-pan stare and, usually, clasped hands; body language, I suppose, that says, "I rest my case" or "gotcha!" <br><br> Harold, I noted, was working up to make that smirk. He had come to strip away the cloak that covered my naked ignorance with the well-worn theme of moral absolutes. <br><br> "Do you believe in moral absolutes?" he asked. <br><br> "No," I replied. "There are no moral absolutes." <br><br> Even before he uttered the words the smirk began to contort his countenance. <br><br> "Are you absolutely sure?" <br><br> Smirk. <br><br> There was a brief pause. What did he expect me to do? Hang my head in shame? Throw up my hands in abandoned defeat? Cry? <br><br> "Yes," I answered. <br><br> The smirk broadened to linear lips. Disbelief furrowed his brow. That was not the response he expected. How could I be absolutely certain there are no moral absolutes? It was misnomer, a contradiction; an abject abandon of reason. <br><br> "That's not possible," he bemoaned. "You can't be absolutely sure there are no absolutes." <br><br> "I believe in absolutes," I said. "One-plus-two always equals three. The law of gravity. The circumference of the earth. All are absolutes. Laws that cannot be broken." <br><br> "But moral absolutes," I continued, "are relative." <br><br> "How can you say that?" he wondered. "Do you believe killing innocent babies is wrong? Is there anyone who believes it is right? Clearly, killing innocent babies is immoral &#8212; absolutely immoral. It is a moral absolute!" <br><br> Evangelicals make a fuss about moral absolutes because, they say, such requires an absolute holy source. That source, they conclude, must be the God of the Bible. <br><br><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OOGgVjV_OyI/Tl4kc74YluI/AAAAAAAAG68/zTh5c3ZZK2k/s400/judge_distinguish_right_wrong_1079735.jpg" align="right" hspace="10" width="35%"> Their syllogism is: <br><br> 1. Moral absolutes cannot exist apart from the Christian God.<br> 2. Moral absolutes exist.<br> 3. Therefore God exist.<br> <br><br> My reply, again: There are no moral absolutes. <br><br> Another syllogism could be suggested: <br><br> 1. Moral absolutes require a perfect originator of moral absolutes; i.e., God.<br> 2. Moral absolutes do not exist.<br> 3. Therefore God does not exist.<br> <br><br> <b> Understanding absolutes</b> <br><br> Absolutes are necessarily both universal and timeless. If a principle does not meet those criteria, it is not an absolute. <br><br> Mathematics, for example, is a body of absolutes that are universal and timeless. One plus two always equals three. It always has. It always will. When the Great Pyramid of Giza was being constructed during the 24th century BCE, one plus two equaled three. When ancient Greek temples and the Coliseum at Rome were being designed, one plus two equaled three. Ancient architects depended on the exact same mathematical absolutes that are essential today. <br><br> It's not that some mathematics are absolutes. Rather, all mathematics are absolutes. <br><br> <b> The time test</b> <br><br> What applies to mathematical principles does not apply to moral principles. <br><br> Most evangelicals would agree that monogamy ("the husband of one wife" as described in I Timothy 3:2) is a moral absolute while polygamy is immoral. Monogamy, however, does not qualify as a moral absolute because it does not transcend time. All are aware that polygamy was a non-issue for the patriarchs. Jacob had two wives; Leah and Rachel. He also is presumed to have married his maidservants, Bilhah and Zilpah. From his loins and these four women came the twelve patriarchs. <br><br> Nearly one thousand years after the deaths of the patriarchs, polygamy was still found to be the norm for the Hebrew privileged class. King David had multiple wives. His gravest sin was not polygamy but stealing the wife of his general, Uriah. King Solomon, son of David, also had multiple wives. Rehoboam, who succeeded Solomon to Israel's throne was said to have "loved Maachah the daughter of Absalom above all his wives and his concubines: (for he took eighteen wives and threescore concubines . . .)." (See II Chronicles 11:21.) <br><br> I am aware of nothing in the Hebrew canon or tradition that prohibits polygamy. In fact the Jewish Talmud, written after the New Testament, presumes polygamy to be acceptable. The early church, however, considered polygamy to be immoral and monogamy to be acceptable. When did the Christian followers of Jehovah make the switch? Where did they get their revised moral insight? They certainly didn't find it the holy Hebrew Scriptures. <br><br> The first-century Jewish historian Josephus gives us a clue. He notes that the polygamous marriages of Herod, though disdained by the Romans, were acceptable under Jewish custom. Four centuries later theologian Augustine offered the phrase, "nostris quidem iam temporibus ac more Romano" when noting that the Roman Empire forbade polygamy. <br><br> "And yet it is not allowed; and now indeed in our times, and after the usage of Rome . . . neither to marry in addition, so as to have more than one wife living," he wrote. [Augustine, On the Good of Marriage, ch. 7} <br><br> Imagine that! The early Christians acquired their moral concept of monogamous marriage &#8212; not from their spiritual Jewish forefathers &#8212; but from the pagan Romans! From a first-century perspective, we could conclude that monogamy is pagan moral concept. <br><br> <b> Temporary absolutes</b> <br><br> Apologists may defend their view of moral absolutes by appealing to such concepts as dispensationalism or "God's economy of time." <br><br> Theists could argue that polygamy is absolutely moral under the Old Covenant and monogamy is absolutely moral under the New Covenant. Their supposition is that God's morals are absolute for a limited time. That, however, would violate an honest understanding of "absolute." Again, mathematics is absolute because equations are valid every time, all the time. One plus two equaled three during the patriarchal age, the kingdom age and the church age. <br><br> The concept of temporary absolutes is both a misnomer and a contradiction. <br><br> To borrow a biblical phrase, we could say that absolutes are the same yesterday, today and forever. Morality is not. For morality to be absolute it must also be consistent. Again, it is not. It may not be too far off the mark to observe that the only thing consistent about morality is its inconsistency. <br><br> <b> Partial absolutes</b> <br><br> What about other moral principles? Can any be absolute? <br><br> Apologists may suppose that some moral principles are absolute while others (like monogamy) are not. But, again, this violates our understanding of "absolute." We know of no mathematical formulas that are not absolute. We again reiterate that for moral absolutes to exists, all moral principles must be absolute and they must be absolute all the time. <br><br> Polygamy is just one example of the Judeo-Christian concepts of morality that have changed and, therefore, are not absolute. <br><br><hr> June 2011<script type="text/javascript" src="http://hb.lycos.com/hb.js"></script>