As we approach Good Friday and Easter, we might wonder whether we can really believe in the historicity of the events we celebrate. Let’s tackle then the strongest argument ever made against them. One of the more influential arguments in the history of philosophy is David Hume’s argument against the rationality of belief in miracles. It goes like this:
1. A miracle is a violation of a natural law.
2. Natural laws are based on “uniform human experience.”
3. Therefore any report of a miracle has the entire experience of humanity against it.
4. Therefore it is always more rational to believe that the person reporting a miracle is either deceived himself or is deceiving you than it is to believe he is telling the truth.
Hume’s infamous argument does explain why we are rightly skeptical about most claims of the miraculous and demand pretty good evidence before we believe them. But it has two flaws. First, we do not have to accept the definition that a miracle would violate natural law. God might perform miracles by applying force to nature that our understanding of natural law could not have predicted–but the object to which that force was applied could respond to it without breaking any laws at all. If the definition of miracle need not be accepted, then the rest of the argument is moot.
Second, Hume commits the fallacy of circular reasoning.
How is the argument circular? It is because he cheats on the phrase “uniform human experience.” How could we know that human experience of the irreversibility of death was uniform before looking to see if the alleged eyewitnesses to Jesus’ resurrection were truly exceptions to it? We couldn’t. and Hume didn’t. Having cheated on the word “uniform,” Hume cannot then justify his use of the word “always” when he says it is always more rational to believe that the one reporting a miracle is either deceived or deceiving than to believe he is telling the truth. If the attestation is strong enough, if the alternative explanations are sufficiently stretched and unable to account for the data, and if the miracle in question fits elegantly enough with what we know to be the plan and purposes of God, then there could be times, albeit rare, when it is indeed more rational to believe.
Hume thinks he is nailing shut the lid on the coffin when he says that we would only be justified in believing a miracle if the alternative was more miraculous than the miracle itself. He thinks he is driving the last nail into the coffin, but he has really just handed Christian believers the game. For the resurrection of Christ neatly meets precisely that criterion. When you compare the egregious ignorance of the physiology of crucifixion and tomb construction required to accept the “swoon theory,” or the gullible naivety required to believe in mass hallucinations, etc., with the demands made on our credulity by the claim that God raised Jesus from the dead, the finality of Hume’s defeat becomes inescapable.
For it is not some random dude about whom we make this claim. It is the Son of Man. It is the one whose coming had been prepared by Providence and predicted by prophecy for two thousand years. It is the one whose disciples kept asking themselves “What manner of man is this?” This is one who spoke like no man ever spoke. This is one who had already shown himself to be sovereign over life and death. If ever there was one about whom we could rationally believe such a thing, it was this man. It was Jesus of Nazareth.
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed.
Donald T. Williams, PhD, is R. A. Forrest Scholar at Toccoa Falls College in the hills of NE Georgia. He is the author of ten books, most recently Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis (Baltimore: Lantern Hollow Press, 2016).
Belief is integral to behavior. In cultures, both ancient and modern, religious belief and superstition shape cultural mores, laws, assumptions, and attitudes. This is why, in one culture, suicide is considered the greatest of crimes. While in another culture it is considered to be an honorable end to one’s life. Our beliefs shape the way we live, interact with others, and see the world. Just as this is true for us, it should be true for the peoples, characters, and races in the worlds we create.
The easiest, and most common, way of doing this is to pattern the beliefs of your fantasy world off of your own beliefs. This is why much of modern fantasy holds to a Judeo-Christian ethic. Even those western authors who are openly hostile towards Christianity see suicide, stealing, and murder as bad things. They see monogamy as proper and polygamy as unnatural. They value honesty, courage, independence, and freedom. These values and beliefs infect their writing.
Do not mistake my meaning. I use the word infect not because of its often negative associations but because it is the most apt terminology. I could say that these beliefs permeate our writing, and it would be true, but it would not encompass the full scope of the event. These beliefs inevitably make their way into our writing, sometimes intentionally, but often without our awareness. This is neither bad nor good of itself; it simply is. Like a bacteria that enters the body unknown and takes up habitation, our own beliefs enter the worlds and stories we create. Like a bacteria these beliefs can be beneficial or detrimental depending on their nature, and the nature of their surroundings within the story. It is easy, often unconsciously so, to write a world that corresponds with the author’s view of the world. On the other hand if one is trying to create a specific culture that does not conform to his/her view of the world then that author must be careful not to write his/her own beliefs into that culture.
Robert Howard’s Conan the Barbarian is an excellent example of a well written cultural shift. Through the short stories about Conan we see the man’s own cultural beliefs and standards conflict with the world around him. That which Conan values is often scorned by others. That which Conan finds scornful is often valued. Howard’s character brings to life the conflict that differing cultural mores create. In fact it is one of the primary themes of the Conan stories.
To create such an alien culture the author must begin with the most basic beliefs and values of that culture. For example, in my own world of Avnul, there is a race known as the Saru. The Saru are a reptilian race with an extremely high birth rate, each female will lay a clutch of between one hundred and five hundred eggs yearly. They also are possessed of the firm belief that they are trapped in a never-ending cycle of lives and that their only rest is found in the short period of death between these lives.
Because of this, and of the basic needs of any race, a great deal of religious law and superstition has grown up around the event of death. The Saru have developed a very strict caste system and how well you live within your caste will determine what caste you are in your next life. Furthermore, because death is viewed with such reverence, and desire, by the majority of the populace a very complex set of rules has developed to determine how, and when, it is appropriate to die. If a Saru does not die properly then that Saru becomes a wandering spirit, unable to rest between this life and the next.
When a child dies it also becomes a wandering spirit, because it is wickedness to die before having a chance to contribute to the community. Thus, children who die are assumed to have been wicked in their previous life, this allows the community to understand why the child would be allowed to die and forced to wander between lives. The Saru have developed a long list of ways to die well, and ways to die poorly.
Also, because of this emphasis on death murderers are seen as heroes. They risk the wrath of the gods (and thus their own chance to rest) in order to send others to their rest. Healers, on the other hand, are seen as villains because (illness or sincere injury being a proper way to die) they force the dying away from their rest and back into the horrors of life.
Among the Saru cannibalism is considered the greatest of all possible crimes. This is because the Saru believe that, for one to rest between lives, the body must be buried in a river. Those that die poorly are buried in the earth, which leads their souls to wander. Those that die well are placed into Kumrii (the Saru god of death and rebirth that lives in all rivers), which allows their souls to rest. If a Saru is consumed then the soul cannot rest.
There is much more to say about their beliefs, but you can see that the Saru’s basic beliefs about death drastically affect their culture and interactions among one another and with other cultures. Their basic beliefs shape the entirety of their culture. These issues of culture and belief are very important for us, as authors and world-builders, to pay attention to. They can be the difference between a believable world, and an unbelievable one. Or the difference between a good story, and a great one.