Some people prefer to talk of divine inspiration of Scripture instead of Scriptural inerrance, because they think this way they can avoid affirming inerrance and hence being subject to the apparent counterexamples to inerrance. However, I think the right concept of divine inspiration will make God a full author of the text (so is the human author, of course; I am not here addressing the interaction of the two authorships). Sometimes it happens to an author that the text asserts something that the author did not assert. I doubt this can happen in the case of an omniscient and omnipotent author. If it cannot, then anything that the text asserts is asserted by God. Moreover, it seems central to Christianity and Judaism that God does not lie. Hence, the text only asserts propositions that God believes to be true. But the only propositions that God believes to be true are propositions that in fact are true. Hence, anything the Biblical text asserts is true. If we add some plausible counterfactual robustness to this story (a hard question exactly how to do this—cf. this post), we get inerrance. So inspiration, understood the way I want to understand it, entails inerrance.
I don't mean for the above argument that inspiration entails inerrance (which is basically an expansion of the enthymematic argument for inerrance in Vatican II's Dei Verbum, section 11) to convince those who don't believe inerrance. Rather, I am here interested in a different point. Even if we believe in inerrance, as indeed the Christian Tradition does, nonetheless we have at least two good reasons to focus on inspiration as the basic concept.
First, if we can argue from inspiration to inerrance, but not from inerrance to inspiration, then inspiration is likely to be the more basic concept. If something like the strategy in the first paragraph of this post goes through, we can argue from inspiration to inerrance. But we cannot argue in the opposite direction. Inerrance is a negative doctrine, namely that a text does not contain any false assertions, plus a bit of counterfactual robustness. Such a doctrine could be made true by all kinds of positive realities, of which inspiration is only one. For instance, an uninspired text would be inerrant if, say, God resolves to paralyze the person at the first sign of writing a false. For a more extreme case, God could make a text be inerrant simply by resolving to preventing the human author of the text from setting down any assertions (thus, the text might contain questions, commands, nonsensical rhymes, etc.)
Second, inspiration is a doctrine about all of Scripture. Inerrance is only a doctrine about the truth of assertions in Scripture. An assertion can be true, and intentionally both deeply misleading and spiritually harmful. And there are important portions of Scripture, of varying length, where the main business is is not the making of assertions—but the offering of prayers (especially in the Psalms), the making of commands, the giving of advice ("Go to the ant, O sluggard, and consider her ways, and learn wisdom" is not an assertion), and so on. Inerrance says nothing about those portions. Inspiration does.
Presumably, there is some analogue to inerrance in the case of those portions of Scripture (perhaps, the analogue to inerrance in the giving of proverbial advice is that the advice is helpful when appropriately applied by a phronimos). But these are analogues to inerrance, not inerrance itself, and it is to the doctrine of inspiration that we turn to find out what these analogues would be.
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I think the right concept of divine inspiration will make God a full author of the text (so is the human author, of course; I am not here addressing the interaction of the two authorships). Sometimes it happens to an author that the text asserts something that the author did not assert. I doubt this can happen in the case of an omniscient and omnipotent author. If it cannot, then anything that the text asserts is asserted by God. Moreover, it seems central to Christianity and Judaism that God does not lie. Hence, the text only asserts propositions that God believes to be true. But the only propositions that God believes to be true are propositions that in fact are true.
I am inclined to accept something like this line of argument, however I have one concern. Couldn’t it be argued that a perfectly good being could lie if there was sufficiently justifying reasons for him doing so. I am thinking of a kind of analogue to the problem of evil here. If this is the case then it would follow not that whatever scripture teaches is true but rather that its either true or if its not its something we should believe.
1. Lying is always wrong. Kant got that right, and so did the Christian tradition. (See Newman's discussion in an appendix to the Apologia.) Veracity is foundational for distinctively human community. To lie is to directly act against the basic good of community.
2. To lie is to solicit trust while simultaneously betraying that trust. One of the central messages of the Old Testament is that God is utterly trustworthy. He does not betray.
3. If, per impossibile, it were sometimes permissible to lie, this would only be to avoid some great evil rahter than to achieve some positive good, and only if all the morally unproblematic ways of avoiding that great evil were exhausted. But such a condition would not be satisfied in the case of an omnipotent being. One lies to manipulate people to act a certain way. But in a pinch God can get people to act a certain way simply by directly willing that they act that way. (Granted, then they perhaps will not be freely acting, but that's OK: God has no duty to let us always act freely.)
4. God is Love and God is Truth, Scripture says. Leaving aside the metaphysics of divine simplicity, the very least that the claim that God is Love had better entail is that God is never unloving. By parallel, God is never untruthful.
5. If one is persuaded by the sorts of considerations that sceptical theists bring up, and if one thinks that God can lie, then I think one will get the conclusion that on any particular occasion where God is speaking, the probability that he is telling the truth is inscrutable. But, if so, then it's not clear that anything he says can be trusted, which is absurd. (This might be more a reductio of sceptical theism.) Note, too, that then one cannot even reason: "God said p to me. Therefore, it's good for me to believe p." For suppose I choose not to believe p. Then, quite likely, God knew that I would or would likely not believe p, and whatever his speech act was trying to accomplish might well have depended on my not believing its content. Once we allow that God can lie, we're in grave danger of undercutting the foundation of revealed religion.
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