Calvinism, Calvinball, and the Grammar of God

Calvinism is not a game, and actually makes games impossible, because games are predicated on an unknown outcome. If the outcome is known, why would you bother playing the game? Even the Dodgers, as loaded with talent as they are, will not go undefeated this season. 

Conversely, in Calvinball there are no rules, so nothing is predetermined:

Its defining characteristic is that it has virtually no set rules. Instead, the rules are made up and changed by the players as the game progresses. The rules are fluid and constantly evolving, and players create new rules on the fly. No two games of Calvinball are alike, and the game's direction can shift dramatically at any moment.  

It has also entered into general use, to describe situations where rules are arbitrary and constantly changing.

In point of fact, both Calvinism and Calvinball make a real game impossible, the first because it is too rigid and deterministic, the second because it is too elastic and lawless. Too much order and too much chaos are both fatal to any game. 

That right there is the sort of banality this blog tries to avoid. But is existence itself some kind of game?  Or are we just putting in time in a meaningless dead-end job? 

Of course, this is not 'Nam, and there are rules! But what are the rules? For example, if predeterminism is the case, then how could there be any human rules? What happens is bound to happen -- it has been decreed from all eternity -- so man is powerless to deviate from God's plan:

if the reality of God remains unchanged whatever we do, there is really very little point in performing one act rather than another..., [and] it would appear to follow that no act can, in its consequences, be better than any other, for the same unchanging reality remains in either case (Gunton).

From the standpoint of God's eternity, "no act of finite being can make the slightest difference to the over-all state of affairs (ibid.). Since worship can have no effect on God, "it can only be self-regarding," or not even self-regarding, just meaningless noise. God's plan is God's plan, and we're just along for the ride, which Hartshorne calls "the greatest intellectual error mankind has ever made."

I mean, there are a lot of bad ideas in the dark and lamentable catalogue of human error, but if predestination is true, these ideas can't even be errors because they were foreordained. 

When we examine the cosmos, we find rules at every level, i.e., laws of nature. We also find a natural law inscribed in the human heart, which is a curious thing to exist if reality reduces to God's atemporal Is. 

If this is the case, then our own intuition of an Ought is just another vain illusion, since we are powerless to do what we ought. Rather, what is, is, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it. Recall the words of yesterday's commenter, that "All moments are present to God now, all at once, as facts." Again, it is as if the present and future have already happened, and are as concretely settled as the past.

Why does this bug you so much?

Well, partly because it is so implausible that people reject it in favor of a postmodern metaphysical Calvinball predicated on an absolute relativism and subjectivism. Your rules are as arbitrary as mine, so instead of God's truth people default to my truth. It seems to me that postmodernism is just the shadow of determinism, and that both are fatal to any possible understanding of the actual rules of the game.   

Speaking of rules, I've also been thinking about the "grammar of God," which at first glance might seem eccentric, but the Christian revelation says that God is not only Logos -- which implies that he is "linguistic," so to speak -- but also that he also has pronouns, for example, the I, Thou, and We implied by Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. There can be no substance "beneath" these grammatical relations, since the relations are the substance. 

I'm also thinking of Wittgenstein's cryptic remark that "theology is grammar," and a comment by Hartshorne to the effect that "atheism is bad grammar."  

First of all, what did Wittgenstein mean? Gemini? 

It's not about traditional sentence structure; rather, it refers to rules of language use. Wittgenstein shifted from viewing language as a mirror of reality to seeing it as a set of "language games" governed by rules. These rules dictate how words are used within specific contexts.... Grammar in this sense, describes the ways in which words acquire meaning through their use within these social contexts. 

He emphasized that meaning isn't inherent in words themselves but arises from their application within specific contexts. Therefore, to understand theological language, we must examine how it is used within the "language game" of religious practice. 

Applying this to theology, Wittgenstein suggests that theological statements should be understood by analyzing their grammatical role within religious practices. Essentially he is saying that the way that words like "God" or "soul" are used, give those words their meaning, within the context of the religious language game.

We disagree, because God himself is a language game with a grammatical structure in a social context, this context being the Trinity, and its grammar involving the eternal Word spoken by the Father. Therefore, grammar isn't just a human game but a divine one. It also means that our theological language can indeed be a reflection of reality, not just a postmodern self-enclosed linguistic house of mirrors.

This being the case, we can see how atheism could be just a case of bad grammar. I don't have time to track down the context of Hartshorne's remark, so let's once again consult with our artificial friend:

When Hartshorne said "atheism is bad grammar," he meant that it violates the fundamental grammar of reality as he understood it. In his view, reality is inherently relational and interactive. To deny the existence of a being (God) that is essentially involved in this relational process is to misuse the very language that describes reality.

I'll buy that: God is the grammar of reality, so denying God is inherently un- or even anti-grammatical. 

He felt that the very structure of reality required a God, and therefore, to deny God was to deny that structure, which resulted in a grammatical error.

In summary, Hartshorne's statement is not about linguistic grammar in the traditional sense, but about the "grammar" of existence itself.

The grammar of existence is a consequence of the grammar of God? This works for me. For which reason it is written that Your seenill grammar and gravidad may not be malapropriate for my laughty revelation. 

Waitwut?

Well, let's break it down: it seems that a certain outmoded use of grammar may result in seeing nil, and that describing God may require a more playful approach to language. Certainly Eckhart thought so, what with his puns, wordplay, paranomasia, paradox, antinomy, negation, oxymoron, hyperbole, chiasmus, and all the rest. For McGinn, Eckhart's word games "are meant to be both playful and serious," or "to confuse in order to enlighten."

Yesterday we spoke of God's infinitude, which is to say All-Possibility. Again, in the traditional view God is pure Act, and therefore No Possibility.

Supposing there is a proper theological grammar, what might this look like? Well, for Eckhart, "The Father's speaking is his giving birth; the Son's hearing is his being born." And that's a conversation -- and a birth -- that never ends.

Is there something more primordial than this conversation? If so, what might it be?

Experience?

Hmm. That's a good candidate, but what is it? It seems that it cannot be defined, because any definition presupposes the experience of it. There can be no definitions without definers. But is this a fruitful avenue? Or just an ensuing train wreck? 

Well, we may not be able to define experience, but perhaps we can say what must be true of all any and all experience? There can be no truths prior to experience, but what is the truth of experience? 

Perhaps we can rule out some metaphysical nonstarters, such as the immutable "block godhead" mentioned in yesterday's post. In that case, there is nothing to experience, because there is no distinction between experience and experiencer. In other words, if God were to have an experience of something, the something would have to be distinct from God. For the same reason, God cannot literally know anything, because there is nothing outside God to be known.

But the Trinity is not like this at all. Analogously, consider what distinguishes animal from human experience. Animals have experiences, but they do not experience experience, as do humans. But how did we acquire this ability?

In a word, via the Other. Infants are full of experiences, but only via an intimate relationship with caregivers is this experience converted to meaning and eventually speech and self-reflection. For example, it is common to see patients who have a problem "mentalizing" their experiences. The experiences just happen to them in a passive way, below the level of mentalizing speech. 

Ever had a panic attack? They are quite the experience, and yet quite difficult to put into words.  

So, perhaps the experience of experience is grounded in what Eckhart says above about the eternal conversation between Father and Son? For again, in a monist God there is nothing to experience and no one to converse with.

Well, I don't know if this post is a train wreck or just a flameout, but I'm out of gas. Any thoughts, Gemini?

In essence, the author is searching for a way to understand existence that avoids the pitfalls of both rigid determinism and chaotic relativism, finding potential answers in a relational theology that emphasizes the dynamic and linguistic nature of God.