Worshipping Apollo

Suppose Callicles worships Apollo. Callicles is doing something he shouldn’t do: he is worshipping a being that doesn’t exist. So one root of Callicles’ practical mistake is a mistake about the non-normative metaphysics of the world, which does not include Apollo.

But is that the only mistake Callicles is making? The western monotheistic tradition appears to criticize people like Callicles morally for their worship. One way to pose the question is this: Supposing Callicles were right about the existence of Apollo, would he be right to worship him?

The answer seems to me to be a clear negative. If we met an alien with Apollo’s intellectual ability, moral character and technological power, then being impressed might be called for, but clearly worship would not be.

Thus, Callicles is worshipping someone who wouldn’t be worthy of worship even if he existed. That’s a moral mistake.

Beliefless Christianity

A number of authors have claimed that it is possible to practice the Christian faith without assigning a high epistemic probability to central doctrines of Christianity. Here is an interesting problem with such a practice. A central part of Christian practice is to worship Jesus Christ as God. Now, Jesus Christ is uncontroversially a man. Christianity adds that he is also God. If that additional belief is false, then we who worship Jesus Christ as God are idolaters. But it is wrong to undertake a serious risk of idolatry. Thus, it is only permissible to practice the Christian faith if by one's lights the risk of idolatry is not serious. And the only way that can be is if one assigns a high epistemic probability to the doctrine that Jesus Christ is God. Thus, it seems, at least this central doctrine of the Incarnation needs to have a high epistemic probability if one is to be morally justified in practicing the Christian faith.

There is, however, a hole in the argument. Idolatry is only a great evil if God exists. Now imagine someone who assigns a high conditional probability to the Incarnation on the condition that God exists, but who assigns a low unconditional probability to both the Incarnation and the existence of God. Such a person can reason as follows. Either God exists or not. If God does not exist, there is not much evil in idolatry, and so not much harm in worshiping Jesus as God. If God does exist, however, then probably the Incarnation is true, and the value of worshiping Jesus outweighs the risks, since the risks are small.

So, what I think my overall argument shows is that it is wrong to practice the Christian faith without assigning a high epistemic probability to the doctrine of the Incarnation if one assigns a significantly higher epistemic probability to theism. Thus, someone who comes to be convinced that theism is true but assigns a low epistemic probability to Christianity should not practice Christianity.

Objection: Perhaps it is just as morally evil to fail to worship as God someone who is in fact God as it is to worship as God someone who is not. In that case, by not practicing Christianity, one also takes on a great moral risk, and perhaps the risks cancel out.

Response: I think it not just as morally evil to fail to worship as God someone who is in fact God. As far as we know, John the Baptist did not worship Jesus as God, but we have no reason to think that this was a great evil, on the par of idolatry.

Worship

The following argument is sound (given Christian doctrine), where possibility and necessity are metaphysical throughout:

1. It is possible to worship properly.
2. Necessarily, worship is not proper when it is not of a maximally great being.
3. Necessarily, worship is not proper when it is of a non-existent being.
4. Therefore, possibly, someone worships an existent maximally great being. (1-3)
5. Therefore, possibly, there is a maximally great being. (4)
6. Therefore, there is a maximally great being. (S5 and concept of a maximally great being, as in ontological argument)

Here is a subsidiary argument for (1):

7. All basic human forms of activity have proper functions.
8. Worship is a basic human form of activity.
9. Necessarily, when an activity fulfills its proper function it is being done properly.
10. Any basic human form of activity that has a proper function can have that proper function fulfilled.
11. Therefore, worship can have its proper function fulfilled.

A final comment. Dan Johnson has found a nice way to generate arguments like this one. You look for arguments whose premises are each either obvious or entailed by theism. This way, the arguments are guaranteed to be sound (if you think theism is true). However, nonetheless, there might be people who appropriately accept the arguments. Why? For one, maybe they have a left-over of a theistic conviction which they have irrationally rejected. For another, their sensus divinitatis might be telling them to accept premises like some of the ones about worship. Arguments like this will not appeal to a wide audience perhaps. They may appeal to a very narrow audience. But that is OK.

Colocationism and the Incarnation

According to abundant forms of colocationism, where I sit, there sit an infinity of other individuals. One of these individuals is a human-shaped mound of flesh and blood. Another is a philosopher. Yet another is something one might call a "rigid human figure" (which I will explain below). These individuals are all related to me in having the same matter. Their distinctness can be seen from the fact that they have different persistence conditions. Thus, the mound of flesh and blood can survive my death, while the philosopher came into existence significantly after I did. The rigid human figure does not survive changes in the orientation of bodily parts. According to sparser forms of colocationism, we may have a more limited number of individuals present here—only the objects that fulfill some philosophically explanatory role will be posited. Thus, the sparse colocationist will probably admit the human-shaped mound of flesh and blood, but probably will not admit the philosopher or the rigid human figure.

Colocationism, whether abundant or sparse, multiplies individuals where there is a multiplicity of what one might with significant propriety call "natures". This creates a prima facie problem for the Incarnation. For if such things as being a human and being a mound of flesh and blood count as individual-defining natures, surely so will being a human and being divine. But then the colocationism seems to imply that where Jesus is, there are two distinct individuals, one of whom is human and the other of whom is divine. This is Nestorianism. (We are used to formulations of Nestorianism that use the word "person" instead of "individual". But we could also have used "individual" as our gloss on "hupostasis"—the Greek does not have the personal implications of the Latin. In any case, both of the individuals will be persons, so there will be two persons.)

This is a prima facie problem for colocationism (I assume, of course, that the orthodox doctrine of the Incarnation is true). Colocationism's multiplication of individuals seems to multiply Jesus into at least two individuals. One attempted solution to the problem might be to say that there is only one nature there, maybe "Godhumanhood". But that, of course, threatens monophysitism, unless one can argue that the sense of "nature" here is sufficiently different from that of the Council of Chalcedon. Maybe if one makes the right distinctions, one can get out of this problem. But it's going to be hard (every account of the Incarnation is hard, but here there seems to be an additional difficulty).

Abundant colocationism has a further problem. There will be an infinitude of individuals where Jesus is. A human, a teacher, a carpenter, the King of Israel, the Messiah, etc. Even if somehow we manage to collapse the human and the divine individuals into one—if not, we get Nestorianism—what do we say about all these other individuals? Are they, for instance, individuals worthy of our worship? Presumably not all—for only three individuals in existence are worthy of worship (in the sense of latria): the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. The carpenter, the teacher, the King of Israel, the Messiah and the mound of flesh and blood all share the matter of the (incarnate) Son, but are distinct from the Son, and a fortiori from the Father and the Holy Spirit. But there is something more than a little odd about saying that the Messiah is not to be worshiped. Moreover, while this particular multiplication of individuals may not violate the letter of the Council of Ephesus, it seems to be very much in the Nestorian spirit. If it was bad to have two individuals, having an infinitude surely is also problematic. We want to be able to say that the individual that Jesus' disciples were taught by was the Son of God. But when Jesus' disciples were taught by the teacher (whom else do we attribute teaching to in the primary sense but the teacher?), then it seems they were taught by someone other than the Son of God on the colocationist view.

The sparse colocationist has less trouble, perhaps. She might only have the flesh and blood and the human being to deal with. To avoid literal Nestorianism, she will say that the human being is the same individual as the Logos. The mound of flesh and blood will still be problematic, though, in light of the fact that we are told by Scripture that the Logos became flesh. We do not want to leave the flesh and blood too far outside the bounds of the Incarnation.