Questioning Answers In Genesis

Team of creationists tackle the "Mysterious Islands" of Charles Darwin (Part 1)

2012-02-19T22:44:00.000-08:00

Recently, I came across a documentary produced by Vision Forum, entitled "The Mysterious Islands". I want to share the experience with you—as well as my thoughts—as an example of how Darwinism is depicted and criticized within the Young-Earth Creationist (YEC) movement. The 1 hour and 40 minute video captures numerous conversations, wherein the filmmakers and team scientists discuss animal and rock specimens while retracing Darwin's steps on the Galapagos Islands. This casual style, set in the backdrop of inspirational scenery, should not be overlooked, as it powerfully conveys the communicative purpose of the film to its lay audience: biological evolution has long been disproven, and remains but a philosophical safety net for the unwavering skeptic.

Understanding this mindset is crucial when interacting with the YEC culture, for one soon discovers that 'debating evolution' involves far more than a set of biological facts and hypotheses; rather, it extends to multiple planes of life, from science to ethics to faith and epistemology. Granted, this film does not accurately represent evolutionary theory or its metaphysical implications (in my opinion), but it would be equally naïve to ignore these questions in critical discussion with those skeptical of evolution and/or conventional geology.

Before jumping into that critical discussion, I want emphasize that the cinematography and production of this film was spectacular. The filmmakers (Erwin Brothers) successfully captured the beauty of these islands and their fauna in such a manner that kept me interested. For those of you who have not seen the film, it is currently available on YouTube. My citations below are approximate and refer to times in the YouTube version. Following is Part 1 of my review, which focuses on the geological topics in the film.

Retracing Darwin's steps..."to prove him wrong"

In celebration of the 200th anniversary of Charles Darwin’s birth, Doug Phillips of the Vision Forum led a once-in-a-lifetime excursion to the Galapagos Island. Accompanied by Dr. John Morris of the Institute for Creation Research, a film crew, and his 16-year-old son, Phillips is not shy about his mission. He states at the outset:

“Almost two centuries ago, a man named Charles Darwin ventured here, and the world was never the same.... [We have come here] to test Darwin’s idea’s in light of good science and eternal truth... [Darwin] got some things right, but I’m convinced he got even more things wrong. And the result was a lot of confusion about life, science—pretty much everything.”

Phillips sees the Galapagos Island as a crucial geographic center of what he considers a battle for the worldviews. When asked by the film crew to explain their role in documenting the adventure, Phillips responds that “It is the defining issue at the defining time... We’ve gotta go to ground zero.” (11:25) This film thus rests on a drawn dichotomy between the Bible and young-Earth creationism on the one hand, and evolutionary biology and skepticism on the other.

Geological mishaps

In a ‘tabletalk’ discussion with the crew (~12:00), Phillips introduces and explains the role of Dr. John Morris—current president of the Institute for Creation Research (ICR) and son of the late Henry Morris. Dr. Morris received a Ph.D. in Geological Engineering from the University of Oklahoma, where he briefly served on the faculty. He was thus the ideal companion for Phillips, who explains that “when we came to the Galapagos, we knew that we’d have to handle the geology...”. My curiosity spiked: how will the geology be ‘handled’? Will Dr. Morris propose a mechanism by which these islands could have formed and then eroded into the modern landscape within the past ~4,500 years (i.e. since the Flood)? This would require a detailed look at the petrology of islands, as well as their modern morphology and climate. Will he test published geochronological data, which place the age of the main islands at ~2.4–1.9 Ma? Will he contrast those with K-Ar dates of the most recent volcanic activity (at Volcán Alcedo), which dates to less than 120 k.y.? What about the now submerged, wave-terraced islands that are part of the same archipelago? Radiometric dates place these former islands between 5–9 Ma, inline with estimates based on plate-tectonic motion. With so much to cover, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

Intermediate Fossil Forms

Dr. Morris’ first comments on geology came an hour into the film, during a discussion on intermediate fossil forms. Phillips paraphrases Darwin as saying “We don’t have them now, but we’re going to find them.” He then sarcastically asks John Morris whether he had seen any transitional forms lately in the fossil record. Morris responds (1:01:10) “I’ve been studying a lot about fossils lately. I’m writing a book on fossils. There’s just no transitional forms. There are the same categories that are alive today; these kinds that we see alive today—the dogs and the cats. We see extinct cats and we see extinct dogs, but they’re dogs and cats.”

Such a confusing generalization of the fossil record belies its complexity, however, not least because dogs were domesticated from wolves by humans and do not really appear in the fossil record. Given the modern understanding of rates of evolution and the paucity of geological preservation, paleontologists today recognize that Darwin’s assessments of the fossil record were not only premature (transitional forms have been found), but were predicated by a false understanding of both macroevolution—namely, phyletic gradualism—and genetics. In other words, speciation is rarely accompanied by a gradual shift in phenotypic expression (anatomy, etc.), as demonstrated in modern populations of recently isolated fishes (e.g. African cichlids) and small mammals. When isolated, species can also become very large (Galapagos tortoise) or very small (Pygmy mammoths) very fast.

Thinly bedded sediments and catastrophic flows

The team later took a boat past cliffs of exposed volcanic flows. Dr. Morris took a moment to speak about thinly bedded pyroclastic flows. To my surprise, he explained them as having been laid down one layer after another (in a matter of seconds for each), as though each tiny layer represented a depositional 'event'. Granted, pyroclastic flows are rapidly deposited, but not as individual, millimeter-thin layers. He continues:

“I was taught [as a budding geologist] that whenever you see these fine gradations like this, these are formed—they say—in a lake environment, or maybe a lagoon or something like that. And it’s seasonal deposition. In the winter there’ll be a little bit, less than a millimeter, and in the summer there’ll be a little bit. And whenever you see this layer (a winter/summer couplet), that represents a year. And if you go near this cliff, you’d see millions of these layers...But with a catastrophe, things could happen in a hurry.”

I was somewhat shocked by this explanation. Any experienced geologist (and this includes Dr. Morris) should be able to recognize the difference between varved lake sediments and a pyroclastic flow. Unfortunately, the audience will come away with the impression that scientists have long interpreted volcanic ash and mud flows as gradually deposited lake sediments. This is simply not the case.

Lake sediments contain abundant organic material (not likely to be found in pyroclastic flows) or fossils (e.g. Green River Formation) within a matrix of sedimentary minerals. Organic carbon can be recovered and analyzed to confirm whether it came from decomposing remains of lake algae, trees, grasses, and/or various aquatic plants. A quick scan on the X-Ray Diffraction machine can tell you whether the minerals are relatively unaltered specimens of feldspar, mica, and glassy quartz that were buried quickly after a volcanic eruption, or highly weathered specimens of the same that accumulated slowly in an open lake system. In the case of lake sediments, further analysis should be able to identify sedimentary calcite, which precipitates in certain lakes during the summer months. The isotopic composition of calcite can be used to distinguish between minerals formed in a lake system fed by rain/snow and broken up pieces of limestone that just happened to ‘get caught in the flow’. In short, abundant methods are available (I have focused on the geochemical) that would prevent any serious geologist from mistaking volcanic flows (including mudflows) from lake sediments. Dr. Morris’ claims here are entirely dishonest.

Radiometric dating

Convinced by Dr. Morris’ discussion on volcanic sediments, Doug Phillips inquires about the age of the rocks. Dr. Morris is ready to respond anecdotally with an example not from the Galapagos Islands, but from Mt. St. Helens, wherein he claims that rocks formed in the recent eruption had been dated radiometrically at 2.4 million years. This claim refers to an old study by Dr. Steven Austin, who prepared the Mt. St. Helens samples for conventional Potassium-Argon (K-Ar) dating. It should be pointed out, however, that only a single biotite phenocryst actually ‘dated’ to ~2 million years old, while other samples yielded much younger dates (most of which were indistinguishable from zero). Dr. Austin sent the samples, moreover, to a laboratory that explicitly stated they lacked the precision to analyze young (<2 m.y.) rocks. The reason is that zero-age volcanic rocks contain very little to no radiogenic argon (i.e. produced by radioactive decay). Modern laboratories that work with such young samples thus require expensive vacuum pumps and a type of ‘amplifier’ for the mass spectrometer, called an electron multiplier. In other words, Dr. Austin’s approach was very similar to trying to measure a few specs of dust on a scale at the grocery store, and then concluding that the scale must be broken because the dust cannot possibly weigh a full ounce! By this reasoning, I am paying far too much for my vegetables.

Unaware of these blunders, Doug Phillips believes that this example raises a fundamental question about radiometric dating. “Every one of those recent volcanoes has been dated at millions and millions of years...”, says Dr. Morris while ignoring current research and propagating his error. Doug asks, “What’s the problem then?” Morris swiftly retorts, “I think the method is wrong! The measurements are precise. The equations, everything is right about it. But the assumptions behind the theory are wrong.”

And cut. The audience is left to imagine what those assumptions might be, which of them might be wrong, and how Dr. Morris can actually verify this. We are not told that 39Ar/40Ar dating of recent volcanoes has actually been used to verify the method’s accuracy. Instead, the audience is kept in the dark about modern geochronology, which has long established various methods by which to test its assumptions.

Uniformitarianism

It is well known that Darwin carried with him to the Galapagos a copy of Charles Lyell’s Principles of Geology. In fact, Darwin is well remembered by some for his contributions to the geology of volcanic islands. According to Dr. Morris, however, this book may as well have been a pair of sunglasses, since “Lyell based his assumptions [that the earth was vastly older than the Bible claimed] on uniformitarianism.” (1:08:35) Of course, Lyell and many of his contemporaries did not believe this age of the Earth was necessarily at odds with the Bible. He simply described methods to interpret geological strata—some of which are still in use today. As the dialogue ensues (1:10:45), however, it becomes apparent that nobody on this trip quite understood the meaning of uniformitarianism:

Phillips: “Is there a message that the salt gives us?”

Dr. Morris explains how salt is fluxed to the ocean through continental weathering, and that the ocean’s salt content is building up year by year. Then he says, “If uniformitarian thinking is correct, and the oceans are gaining the same amount of salt every year...with a simple division, you can tell how old the ocean is just by the salt content and the introduction of salt... If the oceans were millions of years old...they would now be so choked with salt, nothing could live in the ocean.”

Dr. Morris thus falsely presents uniformitarianism as a simple extrapolation of modern processes and rates into the unknowable past. In reality, the amount of salt being carried into the ocean is not constant, and neither would we expect it to be constant over geological time. Along Dr. Morris’ line of reasoning, one might similarly predict that my bank account cannot be older than one month, simply by comparing the balance today (I just received my tax return) with the balance last week. One major task of geologists has been to investigate how these geochemical cycles (the calcium and chlorine cycles, for example) have changed over geologic history. Some processes add salt to the ocean; others remove it. The respective rates are not constant, and uniformitarianism does not assume them to be.

Many creationists have argued along with Dr. Morris that the current amount of salt in the oceans places an upper limit on the age of the Earth (<60 million years), but their position is based solely on the poorly documented sodium cycle. Since Livingstone (1963) first proposed a quantitative model of sodium exchange on Earth’s surface, more recent research has elucidated how mid-ocean ridges remove vast quantities of sodium from the ocean (creationist models actually assume that mid-ocean ridges add sodium to the ocean). Also, thanks to extensive mapping by the oil industry (salt is a very important ‘trap’ that captures oil in the subsurface), we can demonstrate that 1) more salt is exposed at the surface today than ever in geologic history; and 2) modern rates of salt deposition are much lower than the average rate over geologic history. Not only is Dr. Morris’ argument based on a false understanding of uniformitarianism, but it derives from false data as well.

Conclusion to Part 1

I mean no disrespect to Dr. Morris, who seems a capable teacher and a man heartily devoted to his work and his family, but the basic errors made with respect to geology are sufficient to question the quality and integrity of the film. No answers were given, moreover, regarding the actual geology of the Galapagos Islands according to a young-Earth paradigm. Even if you agree with Dr. Morris and think that I have been unfair, I hope that you would be curious enough to search for those answers from qualified individuals. Although Dr. Morris does hold a Ph.D., his academic background is in civil and geological engineering. These fields require you to know something about geology, but Dr. Morris' knowledge of the fossil record, radiometric dating, sedimentology, and the application of uniformitarianism are secondary to his degree. Geological engineering is a very different field from igneous petrology or paleontology, for example, and it's somewhat misleading to refer to Dr. Morris as a 'geologist'. Though I thank Dr. Morris and his colleagues for showing us the beauty and mystery of the Galapagos, I pray you would not lose the necessary discernment to examine his claims.

AiG responds to NCSE's involvement with climate-science education

2012-01-30T17:03:00.000-08:00

I have no intention of turning this blog into a discussion on climate change, but in light of AiG's recent response to the new campaign goals of the NCSE, several points are worth highlighting. Dr. Elizabeth Mitchell, who authors the News to Note series at AiG, recently characterized NCSE's approach to climate change education as an effort "to squelch even more academic freedom" (original article here). Disputing Eugenie Scott's own position on climate change, Dr. Mitchell writes, "The problem comes down to questions about observational science and academic freedom."

Let's return later to the topic of academic freedom. First, what sort of questions from observational science does Dr. Mitchell envision that would challenge the current paradigm? Dr. Mitchell admits that "climate change is observable," but she goes on to claim that "observations have not matched the magnitude of predictions based on models...[which] predict massive and rapid temperature changes." Unfortunately, Dr. Mitchell provides no direct references to such models, in which case any critical reader should reserve judgment and examine her claim in light of the primary literature.

Current climate models are summarized by the IPCC 2007 report (Section 8.1 and following), which provides references to individual studies. In section 8.3.1, the authors flatly contradict Dr. Mitchell's claim, noting that:

"[Climate] models account for a very large fraction of the global temperature pattern: the correlation coefficient between the simulated and observed spatial patterns of annual mean temperature is typically about 0.98 for individual models. This supports the view that major processes governing surface temperature climatology are represented with a reasonable degree of fidelity by the models." (emphasis added)

Simply put, Dr. Mitchell's claim that "past increases in atmospheric carbon dioxide...have produced only a fraction of the predicted change" is false. For the sake of argument, however, let us entertain the possibility that Dr. Mitchell has access to models not cited by the IPCC—models that project more 'catastrophic changes'. In this case, she would be obligated to cite those models and offer reasonable evidence to reject the currently accepted models, which dominate the peer-reviewed scientific literature. Since she has neglected to cite supporting evidence and instead misrepresented available literature, she is guilty of misleading her readers—many of whom presume that her career experience as an obstetrician qualifies her to critique paradigms in climatology.

So as not to mislead you, I have reposted the IPCC graphic summary of 14 climate models (produced independently by various research groups). I will let you judge whether observed warming (black) constitutes only a fraction of predicted warming (yellow).

FAQ 8.1 Figure 1 from IPCC (2007). Caption reads: "Global mean near-surface temperatures over the 20th century from observations (black) and as obtained from 58 simulations produced by 14 different climate models driven by both natural and human-caused factors that influence climate (yellow). The mean of all these runs is also shown (thick red line)."

When recent additions to atmospheric CO2 are removed from the models, all of them diverge significantly from the warming trend and predict a stability in global temperatures since 1960. These model results are not the final word on climate change, but they do provide significant evidence in support of the current understanding.

Dr. Mitchell continues her critique by addressing paleoclimate data supposedly used to support model projections—namely, ice-core records of the Younger Dryas (YD) event. The YD cold period was first hypothesized from an abrupt shift in post-glacial, European vegetation patterns (specifically, a flower species called Dryas octopetala). Only much later was it identified in oxygen isotope records from the Greenland ice core. The current interpretation of the event as a short-lived cold period, which lasted from ~13–11.5 thousand years ago, has been corroborated by global vegetation records, lake-core isotope and pollen records, marine isotope records, speleothem records, and more.

But what does all this have to do with climate models? According to prevailing interpretations, the YD 'cold snap' had less to do with greenhouse gases and more to do with oceanic circulation (as an aside, the movie The Day After Tomorrow cites an embellished version of this mechanism). Nonetheless, Dr. Mitchell writes:

"The climatology models in use were influenced by uniformitarian interpretations of abrupt temperature-related oxygen isotope changes in ice cores...By misinterpreting the cause of isotope changes, uniformitarian climatologists naturally construct their models for the future on an incomplete understanding of the past."

In actuality, oxygen-isotope data are not used to construct climate models, which instead rely on meteorological and geophysical parameters. Rather, we use past climatic trends to verify the accuracy of these models. The figure above provides one example, where each model was 'asked' to predict 20th-century warming trends in response to atmospheric perturbations. Whether or not we have rightly interpreted ice-core records is simply not relevant to the integrity of climate models, which predict 0.4–3.6°C warming by 2100 AD (depending on future trends in atmospheric CO2).

I would love to have the opportunity to discuss personally the above citation with Dr. Mitchell. It is unfortunate that her misperceptions about paleoclimatology have caused her inadvertently to suppress the academic freedom she ostensibly defends. Academic freedom allows us to examine critically claims made by the scientific community, as well as to challenge interpretations of data via the peer-review process. But as long as relevant data are suppressed through 'strawman' arguments presented by public figures (whether Dr. Mitchell, university administrators, or presidential candidates), investigators (such as yourselves) are forced to draw conclusions from limited, biased datasets. In other words, misrepresenting the current science only inhibits critical thinking and academic freedom.

Creationism, Climate Change, and the NCSE

2012-01-20T19:09:00.000-08:00

A recent article from ScienceInsider asks, "Is climate change education the new evolution, threatened in U.S. school districts and state education standards by well-organized interest groups?" The National Center for Science Education believes so and has taken upon themselves the task of making sure that science teachers are sufficiently informed to teach "good climate science". Director Eugenie Scott, who is best known for promoting the teaching of evolution and fighting to quash legislative maneuvers that allow 'creationist' ideas in public schools, justified the new focus by highlighting similarities between skeptics of both evolution and climate change. She also notes that groups challenging current models of climate change are "more numerous and much better funded" than those battling evolution, and she anticipates tougher resistance to the new move.

Dr. Scott is not the first to draw a parallel between these two controversies, and her sentiments are unfortunately true. I noted in a previous post, for example, that although most skeptics of climate change are not creationists, 'climate-change skepticism' is a logical consequence for those who believe that scientists have grossly misinterpreted Earth history. A quick search on any young-Earth ministry site will demonstrate how tight the bond is, despite the fact that none of these organizations employ qualified climatologists (Michael Oard may be a close exception, but his analysis of the Greenland Ice Core belies his comprehension of paleoclimatology).

So how effective will NCSE's campaign be? Individuals and organizations that deal strictly with creationism have one advantage in that creationists are relatively uniform in their ideological premise. It is far more difficult to generalize about what causes people to doubt the scale of anthropogenic climate forcing than to understand why evangelicals struggle with human evolution. I am anxious, therefore, to see how NCSE decides to tackle the issue, and I hope they will be able to avoid divise and pejorative rhetoric like 'denialism'. Long ago, I stopped using NCSE as a resource on science/faith issues, not for any incompetence on their part but rather for their lack of compassion/empathy with creationists (perhaps they have improved since then?). When it comes to controversies such as evolution and climate change, it doesn't take long to clear out the pews so that preaching to the choir is your only option.

Attempt to correlate ancient sediment core to Abraham's journey "dead in the water"

2012-01-17T22:52:00.000-08:00

Several weeks ago, Brian Thomas of ICR offered the curious claim that a Dead Sea Sediment Core Confirms Genesis. "According to the Bible, in around 2000 B.C. what is now the Dead Sea used to be a plain that probably served as farmland for people of the nearby debauched city of Sodom," writes Thomas. After the Dead Sea Deep Drilling Project reported evidence that the Dead Sea once completely dried up in the past, Mr. Thomas drew an immediate connection. He continues, "This research demonstrating that the Dead Sea was indeed once a dry region supports the Bible as a trustworthy historical record."

No one can blame Mr. Thomas for his enthusiasm, but we should immediately question why the presumed connection was not reported rather in biblical archaeology news. The Science Magazine report gives one important clue: the sediment layer to which Mr. Thomas is referring was buried 235 meters below the surface and is 120,000 years old—not ~4,000.

Of course, Mr. Thomas and others would object to the dating methods used to construct an age model for the Dead Sea sediments, but several factors make the objection irrelevant. First, for the Dead Sea basin to have dried up (leaving a layer of pebbled beach deposits), the region must have been extremely arid—more so than today. Since lake levels are controlled by the balance between evaporation and precipitation, higher temperatures and lower annual rainfall are required to dry out the deep, elongated basin. Such climatic conditions would have rendered the region inhospitable to large populations, and farming would have been simply out of the question.

Secondly, more than 200 meters of sediment that have accumulated since the lake dried up defy Mr. Thomas's fantastic timeline. These sediments are comprised of alternating organic-rich silts (winter deposition) and evaporites (mostly calcium carbonate). In other words, not the sort of laminae consistently laid down in multiple cycles per year—totaling more than 5 cm thickness per year—in a semi-arid environment. Moreover, isotopic analysis can be used to verify independently that these laminae result from seasonal transitions, contra Mr. Thomas's unspoken, gratuitous assertion that even stratigraphic dating methods are unreliable.

That being said, multiple independent dating methods (radiometric and stratigraphic; i.e. counting of annual layers) are both internally consistent and place the drying event during the last interglacial, which was more arid for the Levant than the current epoch, according to numerous paleoclimatic records. The preponderance of evidence thus supports the conventional investigative methods, as well as current interpretations of the climate history on a local and global scale.

But what about Abraham?

Unfortunately, Mr. Thomas's take on the evidence would seem to cast doubt on the biblical record, if he were correct. I would propose, however, that he has misused the Abrahamic narrative, whose purpose was to exegete Israel's mission among the nations while warning them of immanent judgement should they fall into temptation as Lot. The fate of Lot's wife even foreshadows that of the Israelites who desired that they could return to Egypt despite the exodus promises. It also highlights the faithfulness of the covenant God, who heard the cries of the oppressed in Sodom as he did in Egypt and acted in their behalf. The Pentateuchal parallels are numerous, and sufficient to conclude that the reference to the "Salt Sea" more likely originated as a tangible referent to explain the gravity of Israel's wavering in the faith.

As an aside, one may argue that the narrative of Sodom and Gomorrah is recounted intertextually by Matthew 10 and 18—both in the nature of the apostolic mission and in the parables regarding "lost ones" and "little ones" of Israel. I would go so far as to say that the parable of the 'Rich Young Ruler' (Matt. 19) echoes the predicament of Lot, who was blessed by excess wealth and became a rich man for whom it was extremely difficult to escape the coming destruction ("camel through the eye of a needle"), but with God working through his messengers (the angels of Gen. 19; apostles in Matthew's account) it became possible (Matt. 19:26). I'll leave it to you to judge the merits of my literary analysis. In the meantime, do not fail to miss the scathing moral and cultural critique that follows from Sodom's fate, which should resonate eerily with our own generation:

"Behold, this was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy." Ezekiel 16:49

С Новым 2012 Годом, Russian airlines, book clubs on Skype, and more...!

2012-01-10T09:25:00.000-08:00

I am a little late, but still I'd like to wish you all a Happy New Year, once again from Russia. About a month ago, I flew into St. Petersburg for a geology conference and to meet with potential collaborators on future projects. In short, I was overwhelmed by their hospitality and eagerness to work together in studying Russian paleoclimate. Things are looking up, and I see myself returning soon for a more permanent stay.

The conference included a field trip (i.e. at the very least, walking around a bit in the snow), for which I came over-prepared. At the sound of "December", "59.5 degrees latitude", and "outside" in the same sentence, I packed heavily. Winter so far has been incredibly mild for St. Petersburg, however, and we scarcely saw the temperature drop below freezing (notwithstanding a chilling breeze on the plateau outside of town). For those interested (all 2 or 3 of you, I'm sure!), the mild winter here is a result of a strong, positive-phase North Atlantic Oscillation, which prevailed throughout December and shifted relatively warm cloud masses northward from the subtropical Atlantic. Emphasis on 'oscillation', of course; this weather won't keep for long.

On the bank of the Izhora River, late December.

After the field trip, and a day of collecting lake-sediment samples in the field, my wife and I spent nearly a week walking the streets of downtown St. Petersburg. To be sure, this modern tourist attraction was built for summer, but I was still taken back by the unique blend of European architectural styles, variegated historical imprints from Tsarist and Soviet empires, sampling of local cuisines served in cozy cafes, and the basic inability of residents to park their cars in a manner even broadly consistent with common decency and/or traffic school. Yes, I loved it all, including the morning service at this monument to geometry, less than a block from our hotel:

Kazanskiy Sobor; a prime example of 'blended architecture'.

After a long week, and perturbed by common colds, we opted to fly to Samara rather than spend 20 to 30 hours on the train. As much as I like the Russian railroad system, I love Russian airlines. We were able to buy the tickets the same day as the flight at normal prices. When one of our bags was too heavy to carry on, we were charged a whopping $12 to check it as a second bag (the first ones were free, of course). The planes all have ample overhead storage space and leg room (i.e. compared to American domestic services). Since we had to make a connection in Moscow, we had two flights around an hour each, but both served full dinners, dessert, choice of cold drink, and choice of tea/coffee. When I flew more than 4 hours to Washington D.C., I received a ginger ale and some pretzels.

Church of the Resurrection of Christ, aka Church of the 'Savior in Spilled Blood' (Спас на Крове).

Every New Year, I am reminded of the fact that I have never in my life made a New Year's Resolution (on the other hand, I've never broken one). That being said, I want to share my plans to continue a weekly book club and encourage you to indulge in the same. Over the past year, a couple friends and I have met via Skype for two hours every week to discuss the latest reading assignment. Do you have a list of books you need to read this year, but lack the motivation to do it yourself? Skype is the perfect tool to accomplish this for several reasons. First, you can make the club as big as comfortable, with members from around the country (or world, for that matter). It's a great way to keep in touch with old friends. Secondly, you need not travel to some central location. Even when all are in the same city, scheduled meetings can feel like an inconvenience, in my opinion. On a similar note, you can wear whatever you'd like to the book club (and I do mean anything!) and sit anywhere with internet access. Finally, meetings are easy to reschedule and offer little inconvenience when canceled.

However you wish to accomplish your annual reading, I strongly encourage you to do it in a group. The best way to learn any subject is to teach it, and book clubs allow you to reiterate what you read, argue for or against the author's message, and of course receive feedback from trusted friends. Book clubs are also the ideal setting to work through more 'controversial' readings--that is, books that challenge your worldview, social setting/background, or academic ideology--or publications that are beyond your normal comprehension/expertise. Since January 2011, for example, we made it through the following works:

New Testament and the People of God (N.T. Wright)
Inspiration and Incarnation (Peter Enns)
Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (Richard Hays)
A Little Exercise for Young Theologians (Helmut Thielicke)
Jesus and the Victory of God (N.T. Wright)
Covenant and Eschatology (Michael Horton)
Resurrection of the Son of God (N.T. Wright)

Along with several published articles (complementary or critical responses, etc. from journals and blogs), the list totals just under 3,000 pages--far more than I would have read on my own had I drawn it up at the beginning of the year. Though admittedly I missed a handful of reading assignments (20-30 pages here and there), the advantage of having a book club is that you can review the missed content with or without reading it later. New Year's Resolutions are easy to break, but where two or three are gathered, you have no choice but to keep up. So give it a shot; see what you think. Organize a book club or study group online through Skype--with friends or enemies, acquaintances or strangers--and reclaim your lost efforts.

Дом Книги - "House of Books", St. Petersburg

I suppose I will end my ramblings here. Though I've been quiet recently (as per last post), I have kept up on the latest efforts of AiG and ICR (including the outlandish claim that 126,000-year-old sediments found by the Dead Sea Drilling Project confirmed the historicity of the Abrahamic narrative?!). Perhaps next week, after I return to the states, I'll find the time to interact with those efforts properly. Until then, feel free to leave feedback or suggestions regarding my update and exhortation to read more in 2012.

До свидания!

One year of blogging—now what?

2011-12-01T00:01:00.000-08:00

Just over one year ago, I decided to cast my own thoughts into the clamor of the controversy that stems from Young-Earth Creationism (YEC). Since that time, this site has received some 15,000 page views. Granted, many of those views are by accident—people searching Google image databases—or from repeat visitors. But even in a best-case scenario, I've spoken only as loudly in one year as Answers in Genesis can in one day. I am neither surprised nor disappointed, but rather quite grateful for the dialogues and friendships this blog has produced. Furthermore, this blog began as a personal, academic endeavor, best captured by Joan Didion's famous sentiment that "I don't know what I think until I write it down." If nothing else, then, I've been able to articulate my own thoughts so as to critique them self reflectively (to your benefit, I pray).

Before I began writing, I was plenty familiar with the material published by Answers in Genesis, ICR, and others. Every so often, I would skim through their pages out of sheer curiosity, looking to discover what kind of fantastic arguments they had since produced. Over time, I became more and more bothered by two things: 1) the blatant disregard for scientific accuracy and honesty, and 2) that such a task was performed in the name of the gospel.

With regard to the first objection, I already knew that dozens of sites and authors had offered to 'debunk' young-Earth claims. Some were done by capable and compassionate researchers—others by scornful satirists. In either case, I came to recognize that no amount of scientific rebuttal would persuade adherents of YEC so long as they perceived the dispute as a debate. In a debate, each side commits to defend their own position at all costs. And since the YEC begins with "I read the Bible correctly, and you don't take it seriously," the arguments are remarkably devoid of dialectical and dialogical development.

Therein ties the second objection. It is no secret that many young-Earth ministries stand on a theologically shallow understanding of the gospel. Their preference for a 'plain, literal' heremeneutic disallows the reader from scratching anything but the surface of the biblical text. I was not surprised, therefore, to learn from Ken Ham's book that among Christian colleges, a much larger percentage of YEC's belong to the science department—not biblical studies.

So why write about it?

I have chosen to voice my opinions on YEC publicly for personal and professional reasons. As an aspiring educator, I feel that recurring statistics on the prevalence of YEC in the U.S. (~40%) should not be swept away as "religious dogma" and "scientific ignorance". For one, tenants of all faiths and academic disciplines are equally susceptible to both, whether or not they admit it (of course, the terms 'dogma' and 'ignorance' imply that one is unaware of the nature of their position). Secondly, identifying someone as 'ignorant' and 'dogmatic', even when it may be true, does nothing to remedy the situation. It only bolsters that person's opinion of their accuser as an 'academic elitist'. Whenever we are willing to belittle a person for their beliefs, ridiculous as they may seem to us, it should come as no surprise when that person rejects our position and confides in someone else that would treat them as a peer. Irrational or not, this reaction is psychologically intelligible.

Effective education (especially in the scientific disciplines) requires a great deal of compassion and humility on the part of teachers. Without both, we only inhibit critical thinking.

In case you do not share my opinion on the philosophy of teaching, you may at least consider that 40% constitutes an impressive political base. Ultimately, adherents of YEC cast a heavy vote on how our society funds scientific research and public education—not to mention how each should be conducted. Doesn't this warrant a more involved response than name calling?

As an aspiring geologist, I am fascinated by our ability to investigate natural phenomena. What's not to love? As my friends and family will testify, I cannot help but to share that enthusiasm. It follows logically, therefore, that I should express my opposition to YEC for its misguided constraint on scientific exploration. Although I empathize with the YEC's outward allegiance to the biblical text, YEC's uncompromising stance on the connection between the Bible and science is ultimately rooted in the reader's predetermination of what the Bible is meant to reveal. In other words, it has no exegetical foundation.

In my experience, few YEC's believe that one can take the biblical text seriously while accepting the modern conventions of natural science. Inasmuch as we can argue this point ad infinitum, I would prefer to take a practical note from Jonathan Edwards: the gospel, like honey, is sweet; the only way to prove to someone that honey is sweet is to let them taste it. Perhaps the best I can do is show others how science, faithfully applied, reveals the beauty of God's portrait, even when it challenges our most basic expectations.

A year in review

Just over one year ago, I embarked on my mission by responding to an article by Dr. Andrew Snelling regarding dinosaur footprints in the Soreq Formation. In "Dinosaurs in the Holy Land: Examining preserved footprints in Cretaceous dolomite from the Judea Group, Israel", I attempted to show that Dr. Snelling's argumentation disregarded valuable evidence, which undermined his position that dinosaur footprints should not be found in dolomite. Following this, I revised a response I had written on the young-Earth interpretation of radiocarbon dating. Now that I have had more experience with radiocarbon results and methodology, I feel this article could be expanded to several volumes. Radiocarbon data, especially in conjunction with results from U-Th disequilibrium and cosmogenic methods, offer one of the more compelling and tangible cases against YEC.

In a handful of broad overviews, I addressed the fossil record, geologic column, and the scientific method. At the risk of confusing general readers, I explored more specific topics like gemstones, oil and gas, isochrons, and beach dunes. Of course, no blog is complete without commentary on more 'political' topics like GSA field trips led by YEC's, Ken Ham's conflict with the homeschool convention, ecumenism, and the historical Adam debate.

At some point along my steep learning curve, I realized the importance of dealing directly with the biblical text that supposedly underlies YEC. Although I am neither a biblical scholar nor a theologian, I drew from my personal study of both fields to challenge myself and others to enter the narrative world of Genesis. My goal was to critically evaluate how that world corresponds to our own by recognizing the powerful critique that Genesis offers on culture and paradigm. Genesis explains the identity and vocation of Israel by placing their story in the backdrop of mankind as a whole. Consequently, Genesis explains our identity and vocation when the narrative is redirected toward humanity in Christ.

At the suggestion of one reader—and considering the obvious relationship to geology—I tackled the story of Noah's flood in two parts. After some reflection, I look forward to critiquing my own work. Writing down my thoughts allowed me to refine the position I articulated to a great degree. More recently, I attempted to wade through the narrative structure and inner workings of Genesis 1–3, which are deep waters indeed. Asking me whether I managed to stay afloat may be comparable to asking a fish how it feels to be wet. But I'll leave that judgement to you.

What now?

Initially, I underestimated considerably the time it would take to maintain a weekly blog (at least one that required research, cross-reference, etc.), but nearly held to my goal. At this point, however, I cannot afford to renew that commitment for another year. I expect never to lose my fervor for science/faith discussions, and I do enjoy writing, but my academic task (the kind that grants a Ph.D.) has finally caught up to me. In two weeks, moreover, I will be travelling back to Russia and residing there for a month. For now, I hope this blog serves as a helpful reference to those who stumble upon it. If the occasion should arise, I will chime in here and there.

With some hard work and a bit of luck, I'll be on track with a reasonable dose of spare time next year. Should I return to blog here weekly? I am considering my long-term goals toward academia and how to better apply my time for the benefit of all who struggle with science/faith conflicts. Perhaps it would be more prudent to appeal to a wider audience by publishing my thoughts elsewhere—even in a book? I've written enough to fill a menacing paperback, but hopefully spared us all some trouble by not acting too quickly. I know how ineffective a disorganized and verbose book can be. When it came to blogging, I did not have time to write you a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.

I guess we'll see what next year brings.

On reading Genesis as literature: the dialogic of Genesis 1–3

2011-11-12T22:00:00.000-08:00

"An utterance is always a reply." –Mikhail Bakhtin

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The act of creatio ex nihilo is one reserved to God alone, for no work of art—including literature—is formed in a vacuum. As much as the reader's own experience plays into the interpretive framework of any text¹, so the text's literary framework is governed by the experience of the author². Following this axiom, it may seem sensible to begin our study of Genesis by positioning ourselves 'behind the text'—that is, to capture to the best of our ability the literary, linguistic, and cultural experience of the author so as to dissect the story analytically. But this method betrays the very function of narrative, its mimesis of reality³, which "according to [Paul] Ricoeur...creates a world...meant to be entered, inhabited, and appropriated by the reader."⁴ The literary study of Genesis cannot be reduced to an external scientific appraisal, for our primary interest is not whether the narrative represents reality but how:

"As the reader dwells in the created world of the story, new possibilities are opened up for articulating and conveying truth and meaning," so that "narrative...configures a world that has the potential power to refigure the reader's world."⁵

Ultimately, we want to answer "What truth did the author mean to convey?" Our answer to this holistic question is commonly formed by preliminary observation, however, and so it guides our interpretation of the particulars from which it is supposedly drawn. One may be inclined to describe Genesis 1–2:4 as history, for example, because it recounts a temporal sequence and prefaces the much larger history of Israel. Fair enough; the story does proceed from point A to point B. But how do we ascertain that the narrative flow of the text (e.g., "there was evening and morning...") necessarily describes a chronological sequence of events, rather than a logical sequence of thought?⁶ We immediately appeal to our predetermination of the story's intended truth, wherein the unknown parts are made familiar in light of the whole. This Platonic circle is self-reinforcing by nature, and without conscious self-critique cannot improve our understanding of the author's truth. On the other hand, if we appeal instead to linguistic data (e.g., the semantic domain of terms like 'day', 'create'), cultural data (e.g., comparative literature studies), or scientific data (cosmology and history), do we 'widen the circle' or have we already abandoned the narrative world in which that truth is articulated?

I begin this way that we might contemplate how to decipher the narrative of Genesis 1–3 exegetically (operating within the text itself) while maintaing a sort of critical realism⁷—whether overtly or not, the histories of the text and its author do inform our interpretation. These goals are seemingly at odds with one another, because critical inquiry presumes that we are not necessarily bound to the rules of the story. Leo Strauss describes the tension thusly:

"We are confronted with the incompatible claims of Jerusalem and Athens to our allegiance. We are open to both and willing to listen to each. We ourselves are not wise but we wish to become wise...By saying that we wish to hear first and then to act to decide, we have already decided in favor of Athens against Jerusalem."⁸

Such is the paradox of our task, but we are not immobilized by it. We all depend on critical analysis, if for no other reason than because the ancient story must be translated. Even if we learn Hebrew, for example, the connotative disparity between our language and theirs is not one that can fully be bridged.⁹ Our understanding of the text is always limited because it results from a continuous interaction between the narrative language and extrabiblical concepts—neither of which we can know exhaustively. Each informs the other within the mind of the reader. Perhaps the best way to proceed, then, is to vocalize our hermeneutical reliances at every step, so that we are always open to critique, not least from ourselves:

"A recognition that humans are interpreters who have finite interpretative contexts and that understanding, explanation and new understanding are hermeneutical, having the capacity to create suspicion, counter dogmatism, and check reductionism, applies to both science and biblical interpretation. A hermeneutics of finitude and suspicion...begins to make us aware of our own situatedness and offers a critique of any notion of a view from nowhere, while also providing the necessary trajectory towards a robust hermeneutics of trust."¹⁰

The importance of humility cannot be overstated when the task also concerns spiritual growth. We have the advantage here in that the biblical text constantly reminds us not only of our fallibility, but our proclivity thereto. Our pursuit of knowledge should be accompanied, therefore, by prayer and study alike. And although we turn to the Spirit and the Word for wisdom, our reliance thereupon should not be used in and of itself to bolster our conclusions—that is, to conflate God's inerrancy with our own.

Genesis is...?

Fill in the blank to expose your bias: history, myth, poetry, allegory? Western thought is thoroughly systematic, often to our demise. Consider, for example, the dialectic pursuit of the species in evolutionary biology. Within that paradigm, the clear delineation between one species and the next is not a predictable phenomenon, unlike in Linnaean taxonomy which was built upon the notion of created kinds. Nonetheless, taxonomists and systematic paleontologists carry on heated debate over where to draw lines in the shifting sand because further analysis presupposes such categories. We think categorically because we perceive things abstractly; everything belongs to a transcendent ideal because that is how we connect the dots.

This tendency to articulate truth abstractly, however, derives not from the Hebrews but from the Greeks. If you were to ask a modern American philosopher to explain the challenge of theodicy, for example, he/she might begin by defining the attributes of God, world, man, sovereignty, evil, and justice. Definitions yield contradictions; contradictions yield dialectic; dialectic becomes treatise. Truth is monological from beginning to end.

How might a priest in ancient Israel respond to the same question? I believe that on the basis of biblical tradition, we can do more than just speculate. The priest does not begin with disambiguation. Instead, he introduces you to the character of Iyyob (Job), whose name is simultaneously a pun for 'persecuted one' and 'repentant one'. Job is described as a righteous man who suffered greatly, and seemingly without cause. The philosophical dilemma of theodicy is explained through narrative as Job matches wits with several interlocutors in search of the source of his suffering. Truth is dialogical and polyphonic; the debate is open-ended and we are not sure whose side to take. At last, God enters the picture to settle it for us. His discourse is sharp, His rhetoric condemning. 'You are wrong to attribute evil to Me, but your friends are wrong to attribute that evil to you.'

In the end, no final answer is given that would justify Job's suffering in plain terms. God's justice is incontrovertible because it is unknowable, and to question God's motives presupposes one's own divine authority (a false premise). God gives and takes for his own reasons, and we are wrong to demand a moralistic framework.¹¹ In fact, a moralistic framework would undermine the righteousness of Job, which finds ultimate expression in the face of adversity—not blessing. The author does not approach the question, however, like a theologian or a philosopher. Abstract concept is explained through concrete story, which appeals to the imagination over logic. Truth remains dialogical, and contradiction serves as a vehicle to explore truth—not to define it.

In Genesis also, narrative is the preferred mode of expression for abstract thought. Whenever we try to apply modern categories to its story, we run the risk of reductionism. Discussions on 'myth' and 'history' in Genesis are potentially misleading, for example, because they assume the Greek categories of mythos and historie¹². Nonetheless, we are western thinkers and cannot help but to observe how Genesis is or is not like our own writings. Along these lines, one of the most helpful guides I have found comes from Diepstra and Laugherly (2009):

Genesis is...
1. Revelatory, in that it offers a unique perspective of the cosmos—its structure, origin, and eschatology.
2. Historical, in that it recounts the beginnings of the cosmos, and specifically the origin and place of Israel within that cosmos.
3. Theological, in that it explicates the covenant god of Israel and his relationship to the cosmos (mankind in particular).
4. Literature, in that its truth is conveyed through narrative, which is "laced with drama and saturated with symbolic artistry that engages the imagination of the reader."¹³

I prefer this fourfold approach (which may be expanded) because it holds the many disciplines in healthy tension so as to avoid the reductionism that follows when one is applied to the exclusion of others. We may consider that effect for each category as follows:

1. Genesis is just a dictation of God's message, or just a polemical response to contemporary cultures.
2. Genesis is just an account of what really happened before Israel, or just an improved version of conflicting histories of man/civilization.
3. Genesis is just an explanation of who God is, who man is, and what God requires of man, or just a profession that God created/guides the cosmos, but not how.
4. Genesis is just ancient historiography/mythology, appealing to fantasy over fact, or just a representation of the contemporary setting of the author.

Our human tendency, especially among academics, is to approach Genesis on the level that feels most comfortable to us. Admittedly, you will see this tendency in my own writings.¹⁴ It can be quite easy for a theologian to 'theologize' all historical aspects of Genesis, for example, because he/she feels 'that is the main thrust of the text'. Similarly, the historian may tend to 'historicize' all theological aspects. But we should not dismiss their insight simply because it is exclusive or cursory. Conversely, it can be just as easy for the common reader to opt for a 'plain reading' of Genesis because he/she is yet unfamiliar with contributions from academia. With these constraints in mind, let us enter the narrative world of Genesis.

Trajectory of the creation narrative in Genesis 1–2:3

Heaven and earth are split along two complementary paths in the first creation narrative. From a divine perspective, everything moves in orderly fashion from chaos to order; from 'good' to 'very good'; from work to Sabbath rest. What appears a dark and dismal portrayal of primordial earth—set in darkness and clothed by unbound waters—soon fades from sight as the cosmos are divided into recognizable forms and adorned with majestic inhabitants. Unlike their mythological counterparts, the various forces of nature offer no resistance to the covenant god of Israel. He speaks, and it is done.¹⁵ Nonetheless, his actions are described as 'work', conveying a sense of temporary incompleteness but with a clear goal in mind. God may rest from his work when all is harmonious and in working order—when chaos no longer threatens the functional unity of its parts.

From an earthly perspective, the creative works of God are systematically focused toward his most prized work, and what has often been called the 'pinnacle' of God's creation: mankind, who alone bears the divine image. The respective days of creation answer the 'problem statement' of Genesis 1:1, that "the earth was without form (tohu) and without inhabitant (bohu)", in exactly that order. First, the chaotic seas are divided from each other and from the land. Second, each habitat is filled with the appropriate occupants. The stage is set for mankind to "fill the earth and subdue it", that he may share with God in the act of creation and ultimately the Sabbath rest. As the divine representative on earth, he is called to a life of imitatio dei, in which he will work to extend God's glory across the earth until he likewise can rest.

All of the described events look forward to the seventh day. This narrative flow is most explicit in the sixfold refrain "there was evening, and there was morning...", which not only indicates the passing of time but a temporary rest between working days. Yet on the seventh day, the refrain is absent. We need not inquire what God was doing on the 'eighth' day, because within the narrative world of Genesis 1–2:3, the seventh day is without end.

Stylistic and thematic considerations

–= Toda traducción es una traición =–

The principle that 'every translation is a betrayal' is conveniently demonstrated by translating into English this Spanish proverb, whose rhyme and alliteration (tr...ón, tr...ón) are lost in the process. Repetitive elements (including some rhyme and alliteration) abound in the creation narrative, even within the first sentence (br...br, et ha...et ha; see Hebrew in citation below). Some of these elements have already been mentioned, and nearly all are associated with the number seven. Jeff Morrow summarizes thusly:

"The number seven is important for the form and content of Genesis 1 as the number of perfection in the ancient Near East, the number relating to covenant, and of course, the number of the day known as the Sabbath... Genesis 1:1 contains seven words: běrē’šît bārā’ ’elōhîm ’ēt hašāmayim wě’ēt hā’āreṣ. Genesis 1:2 has fourteen words, seven times two. Furthermore, significant words in this passage occur in multiples of seven: God (35 times, i.e., seven times five), earth (21 times, i.e., seven times three), heavens/firmament (21 times), “and it was so” (7 times), and “God saw that it was good” (7 times)."¹⁶

Although Genesis 1–2:3 cannot accurately be described as 'poetry',¹⁷ its style is perhaps more comparable to the Psalms than to the court history of David. Genesis 1:27 even contains a parallelistic tricolon, which is found in some Hebrew poetry¹⁸. Personally, I find the term 'Creation Hymn' most helpful and appropriate. Regardless of how we identify the stylistic genre in modern terms, however, we should not ignore the implications of these 'semi-poetic' elements for us, the reader. Far from reducing Genesis to imaginative fantasy, the author presents the story in such a way that it addresses an ever present reality for endless generations to come¹⁹. Marc Vervenne unfolds this line of reasoning (emphasis added):

"In my opinion...[Gen 1,1–2,3] is best expressed with the title 'Cosmic Liturgy of the Seventh Day'. This compositional unit contains a rich theology concerning the creative and sanctifying hand of Elohim viewed from the cosmic perspective. 'Creation' is understood here as a continuous transition from disarray to order, from unrest to rest, from chaos to harmony. While this process is presented as a primeval event it has, in fact, everything to do with history and with the temporal situation of the readers/listeners...The 'seventh day' is a free space in history, one which is not bound to time or place. Within this space, Israel escapes from the natural and social 'primal powers' which can throw her back into chaos. To participate in the rest of the seventh day is to participate in the continuous creative activity of Elohim and to ward off the many-sided menace posed by the powers of chaos."²⁰

The style of Genesis 1–2:3 is such that it can easily be memorized and sung/recited among the congregation. In doing so, we not only celebrate God as unrivaled Creator of all that is, but we pray "Let your will be done on earth as in heaven". The building of God's kingdom (and sanctifying of His people) through the gospel message is no less a work of creation than the acts founds in Genesis 1–2:3.

Is there any external evidence that Genesis 1–2:3 was intended to function liturgically? We gain some insight from comparison to contemporary literature, such as the Babylonian Enuma Elish. This ancient creation hymn—which begins "When on high the heaven had not been named, and earth below had not been called by name" and is recorded on seven tablets—celebrates the victory of Marduk over Tiamat and her husband Apsu; over the powers of chaos. Each year, the text was read publicly at the New Year's Festival, which itself offered divine hope that life would return to the barren (uncreated) land that Spring/Summer. Similarly, Genesis 1–2:3 may have been related to the Feast of Tabernacles in Israel, which took place over a week's time, culminated in a Sabbath rest, and celebrated the coming of the new year through God's creative work.²¹

Thematically, the Genesis narrative shares much with its mythological counterparts:²² the primordial state is characterized by water (the chaotic sea); God overcomes that chaos by separating and naming each part; all of God's actions are told as part of a story (the base etymology of mythos). More important than such broad similarity, however, are the numerous ways in which the Genesis narrative counterpoints its pagan relatives. The author of Genesis incorporates pagan myth not through accommodation but via metaleptic reorientation so as to create a sharp polemic thereagainst. The 'great deep', called tehom in Hebrew, echoes the name of the Babylonian goddess Tiamat, but she has been robbed of all her vitality, being represented here as inanimate waters that are entirely subject to the will of Elohim. The god of Israel neither fights rival deities nor gives birth to them; he (alone) is simply there in the beginning. The god of Israel thus has no mythos in the technical sense. His 'story' has no beginning and no end, despite the general trajectory of its path.

Even the heavenly hosts are demythologized and their cosmic reputation is laid low. For the Babylonian god Marduk, the stars were placed as trophies unto his outstanding victory. The Sun and Moon were themselves divine offspring of former gods. In Genesis, however, the creation of the heavenly hosts precedes that of earthly inhabitants, not only temporally but in terms of dominance:²³ they were made to serve man and all life on earth; "to separate the day from the night, and...for signs and for seasons and for days and years" (Gen. 1:14). The author's polemic is thus subtle and implicit, depending on the order of creation and the fact that sun and moon are each deprived of a proper name. Summarizing, Leo Strauss writes:

"Not only did the biblical God not create any gods; on the basis of the biblical account of creation one could doubt whether He created any beings one would be compelled to call "mythical": heaven and earth and all their hosts are always accessible to man as man. One would have to start from this fact in order to understand why the Bible contains so many sections that, on the basis of the distinction between mythical...and historical, would have to be described as historical."²⁴

Trajectory of the creation narrative in Genesis 2:5–3:24

In the blink of an eye, the land again appears barren (Gen. 2:5). There is no man to cultivate the earth and no rain to water it. Yet in a second blink (Gen. 2:6–8), God forms man from the barren clay and brings life to the land. In this case, God's creative work is described narratively as a series of responses to what is lacking in the primordial situation. Unlike the creation hymn, where God speaks, makes it so, and declares it to be 'good', in the Eden narrative God recognizes that things are 'not good' and then acts to remediate the problem (e.g., Gen. 2:18). Every created thing appears to tend to the needs of man. From the beginning, God is intimately concerned with man and his environment, like an artist who colors the canvas around the centerpiece of his work.

Stepping aside from the immediate context, we should briefly consider the broad trajectory of this story within the narrative unity of the Pentateuch. Harold Bloom writes concerning the author of Genesis 2:5–3:24 (called J by convention):

"The Deuteronomist memorably incorporates J in his chapters 31 and 34, dealing with the death of Moses. I give here...Yahweh's first and last actions: "Yahweh formed man from the dust of the earth," and "Yahweh buried him, Moses, in the valley in the land of Moab, near Bethpeor; and no one knows his burial place to this day." From Adam to Moses is from earth to earth; Yahweh molds us and he buries us, and both actions are done with his own hands."²⁵

God calls us to communion with him and cares for us in life and death. Such is the distinguished attribute of the covenant god of Israel and the grand telos of man. Already, we should recognize that geography offers no guide to the garden in which man was set; the garden is where God is. On this point, the Eden narrative is thoroughly eschatological.

Next, two additional characters are introduced to the story: woman, taken from man, and a serpent, who appears out of nowhere. Man's ability to fulfill his vocation as divine image is now contrasted and challenged by his peccability, through which he desires too much. The author transitions from one to the other by means of wordplay: the man and the woman were naked (arom) and unashamed, but the serpent was more cunning (arum) than other creatures.

"Did God really say...?" The serpent casts doubt on the accuracy and pertinence of God's word and portrays it as self-serving: 'he knows that you will become like him, knowing good from evil'. In response, the woman lusts for the fruit²⁶, seeing that it was good for eating, delightful to the eyes, and able to make one wise. Her husband overlooks God's command and lusts to fulfill his wife's passion, which becomes his own:

"The best interpretation understands the eating of the tree as the assertion of moral autonomy. In other words, by eating the fruit, the human couple is essentially claiming that they know better than God."²⁷

And so they ate, and in eating they attained divine knowledge. But the irony of their action is revealed subtly by the immediate result: their eyes were opened and they saw that they were naked. The cunning (arum) serpent has exposed the nakedness (arom) of man, who is now ashamed before God. In the order of their entrance, each character now departs through a curse: the serpent, the woman, and the man.

All hope is lost, it seems, for the idyllic garden of God. The tension between the serpent and the woman will become a perpetual reality. Each blow (to the heel and to the head, respectively) is a crippling death blow to the other—mutually assured destruction²⁸. Even the woman's desire for her husband will cause her to become subservient to him. As for man, he was placed in the garden to bring life thereto, but now he will work outside of it, met only by frustration until death reveals the vanity of his life. Thorns and thistles shall remind him that he is not so similar to God as he presumed.

God banishes the man from the garden, "and at the east of the garden of Eden He stationed the cherubim and the flaming sword which turned every direction to guard the way to the tree of life" (3:24). At this point, the narrative offers a peculiar hope not in what it states explicitly, but in silence. God "drove the man out"—what about the woman? Does she still have access to the tree of life? Surely she does not, for it is guarded by the cherubim. But the silence is telling, even mysterious, and it draws us back to the preceding verses.

Up to this point, we have seen creation in several modes: God formed the man and planted the garden, but the man cultivates the land to bring forth vegetation; God formed the animals, but the man names them; from man (ish) God formed the woman, and so the man names her woman (ishtah). God, man, and land all do their part in creation, which is described in tangible terms normally ascribed to potters and artisans. Yet none of them are given a proper name in this narrative; none except the woman, through whom there is hope for new life: "Now the man called his wife's name Eve, because she was the mother of all the living." (3:20) The name Eve, which actually echoes the Aramaic word for 'serpent', is simultaneously a play on the word for life. Its true etymology is centered around hope, though it hangs by a thread.

With this simple pronouncement, the history of mankind is set in motion. Forward and backward, the story of Eden will cycle back on itself as the 'seed of the serpent' and the 'seed of the woman' clash together under variegated circumstance. Yet all is not in vain, for the creator god has become the redeemer god: "The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife, and clothed them." (3:21) God has not given up on his garden, and neither should we.

Stylistic and thematic considerations

The Eden narrative is deceptively simple, written in plain terms that encompass the common human experience, but sufficiently foreign that it elicits imaginative speculation to explain its symbolism.²⁹ Wordplay, thematic reversal, irony, and drama add levels of meaning which can be sought for a lifetime. Nonetheless, what we find on the surface is sufficiently powerful and accessible to transform the most unsophisticated mind.

On a literary level, the style of the Eden narrative stands in stark contrast to the preceding creation hymn. The story is immanent, and the sentiments of its characters are reflected in the text itself. Regarding the author of Gen. 2:5–3:24, Robert Alter observes that:

"his prose imparts a sense of rapid and perhaps precarious forward movement very different from [Genesis 1's] measured parade from first day to seventh. It is a movement of restless human interaction with the environment, even in Eden: here man works the soil, which cannot realize its full inventory of nourishing plant life until that work has begun..."³⁰

While the imago dei is not expressly assigned to man in the Eden narrative, the author's description of man's actions demand such a role. Man's vocation to cultivate the earth and bring life thereto directly reflects that of his maker. In naming the animals, man does not endeavor to satisfy personal curiosity, but to share in the sanctifying acts of 'dividing' and 'calling' that are so systematically ascribed to God in the creation hymn. In a sense, he thus mimics the creation of living creatures "of all kinds" (Gen. 1:21, 24). Lastly, man is a being in relationship—in blessed communion with his environment, his wife, and his god. Mankind is simultaneously the one and the many, and his own multiplicity parallels that of the majestic and incomprehensible Elohim³¹ (cf. Gen. 1:26–27).

According to the author of the Eden narrative, the Lord himself walks among the garden (Gen. 2:8) and even posits rhetorical questions which, on the surface, seem to defy his omniscience. Such depictions of Yahweh recur throughout the well known narratives of Genesis, especially the account of Jacob. Rather than consign such accounts to the phenomenon of 'anthropomorphism', I offer a profound reversal of thought in the following comments by Harold Bloom:

'[Yahweh] sensibly avoids walking about in the Near Eastern heat, preferring the cool of the evening, and he likes to sit under the terebinths at Mamre, devouring roast calf and curds. [The author of Genesis] would have laughed at his normative descendants—Christian, Jewish, secular, scholarly—who go on calling his representations of Yahweh "anthropomorphic," when they should be calling his representations of Jacob "theomorphic."'³²

In other words, the imaginative depiction of Yahweh in the garden should not cause us to liken God to man, but to see how Adam is portrayed in the divine image. This subtle intermingling of characteristics does not come without a sense of irony, however, as the lustful desire to be too like God results in the cursing and exile of mankind.

Genesis 1–3 as history

The opening statement of Genesis, typically translated as "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth", does not necessarily bind the story to an earthly timeline. It merely states that God alone is the transcendant author of history and the basis of our appeal when chaos threatens our well being (i.e. when things are less than 'very good'). As we have noted previously, the timeline of Genesis 1–2:3 has no end, and God himself has no beginning. From a canonical perspective, the creative work of God is not yet finished, for the creation hymn is recaptured in the subsequent grand narratives of the Bible (including the gospel).

We do a great injustice to the text, therefore, in trying to establish when in earth history these 'six days' took place. There is no need to expand each day to fill great aeons (old-earth perspective) or to confine them to 144 hours at the head of history (young-earth perspective). The creation hymn is written liturgically—not simply to remind us how history began, but to remind us where history is going. The book of beginnings is a book that points forward by pointing back.³³

Several parallels to the garden story can be found in Ancient Near Eastern literature, including the Epic of Gilgamesh. I only mention this in passing to highlight the magical and mythological character of those stories. For example, the trees of Dilmun are adorned with precious jewels and metals. Such treasures are not present in Eden (and they certainly don't grow on trees), but there is mention of them in the surrounding lands. Consequently, "through the seemingly irrelevant description of the land of Havilah, [Genesis] has quite clearly sought to naturalize a mythological aspect of the garden."³⁴

On the other hand, the Garden of Eden is sufficiently 'strange' that it would be imprudent to locate it in time and space. To eat from the two trees in the center of the garden is a moral act, without specific regard for nourishment. The serpent is able to speak—eloquently at that. Although the four rivers would be familiar to the Near Eastern reader, as well as the lands of Havilah and Cush, they each flow out of the garden to water the whole earth. The setting is generally Mesopotamian, but the geography has been subverted to the narrative world of the author. The Cambridge Bible Commentary (1973, p. 10) describes a similar didactic in Greek literature:

"[Story myths] may also be the conscious literary creation of a teacher whose concern is to help others to share his insights into the meaning of life. Plato’s myth of the prisoners in the cave in Book VII of the Republic is a good example... When Glaucon, after listening to the story, says to Socrates, ‘You are describing a strange scene and strange prisoners’, Socrates replies ‘They resemble us’.”

From a historico-critical perspective, therefore, the garden is not a 'real' event in time and space. From a literary perspective, however, that is the point. The reality of the garden transcends plain history but is immanent to every inhabitant thereof.³⁵ By historicizing the garden and its narrative inhabitants, the author has universalized the human condition that is so articulated by the history of God's Israel.³⁶ In other words, we should not simply read the biblical history in linear fashion, moving from one event to the next so as to reconstruct all of human history. On the basis of intertextual and thematic links, we should rather read the biblical narratives as a palimpsest,³⁷ in which peeling back the narrative layers serves to elucidate the overlying topography:

Gospel

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Monarchy/Exile/Return

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Exodus

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Patriarchal

––––––––––––––––––––

Flood

–––––––––––––

Creation

––––––––

So we can say that Genesis is history, but this position is insufficient. What kind of history? Certainly not the documentary and explicative forms we employ in our classrooms today³⁸—we insult the author of Genesis by reducing his work to such. In the terms of Paul Ricoeur, Genesis is poetic historiography in that it "takes the reality of the past, interprets...and then shapes it into a narrative through which a community of readers understands itself in the present."³⁹ I conclude, therefore, with Diepstra and Laughery (2009), who summarize the relationship thusly:

"So, where does Genesis 1–3's credibility lie for both science and Scripture? It lies in the "power of story" where imagination and the revelatory realities of God, and the world He created meet. The biblical story of beginnings brings together the meaningful structure of reality without wedding itself to a static architectural statement about the world."⁴⁰

Genesis 1–3 as literary diptych

So far, I have split my comments between Genesis 1–2:3 and Genesis 2:5–3:24. What about Genesis 2:4, and what about the unit as a whole? There is plenty that can be said about the contrast between the two units,⁴¹ and I don't intend to be exhaustive on this point. Instead, I want to offer some insight from the structural form of the book of Genesis. Thomas L. Brodie⁴² identifies 26 literary diptychs in Genesis: 6 from the primeval history, 7 dealing with Abraham, 6 concerning Jacob's beginning and his life, and 7 concerning Jacob's sons and his death⁴³. The first is found in Genesis 1–3, for which Genesis 2:4 acts as a hinge point.

In general, a diptych is a picture or story with two panels that are joined by a hinge. Each panel may complement or contrast the other so as to engage the audience in a dialogue that is aimed toward a greater truth. For example, I might fill two conjoined picture frames with contradictory self-portraits: one of me happy and one of me sad. This is my life in dialogical tension, since neither fully explains my personality, but together they communicate a complex, polyphonic reality.

Likewise, the two creation narratives of Genesis paint very different portraits of earth's beginnings, but to dismiss them as contradictory is not only absurd—it misses the point entirely. As previously noted in the case of Job, contradiction is the vehicle by which truth is to be explored—rather than the means to falsify proposition—in the Hebrew bible. The creation hymn proceeds from chaos to order and Sabbath rest. Conversely, the Eden narrative generally proceeds from order and harmonious communion to chaos, exile, and brokenness. We can represent the unit graphically as follows:

Chaos Order [Hinge] Order Chaos

Genesis 1:1–2 ––––––> Genesis 2:3 [Gen. 2:4] Gen. 2:5–9 ––––––> Gen. 3:24

–––––––––––> Sabbath Rest // Communion <–––––––––––

The literary unit of Genesis 1–3 thus functions like an open book, whose pages gravitate toward the center. The hinge point in Genesis 2:4 reads:

"...these are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created. When the Lord God made the earth and the heavens..."

Notice the chiasm: heavens, earth, created, Lord God, made, earth, heavens. The structure of the verse turns the page for us so that each narrative is to be read in light of the other. Sabbath rest and communion with God are thus presented as the very telos of the cosmos. When we reach the end of chapter 3, we should find ourselves prompted to read the Eden narrative in reverse by asking the question "How do we get back to the garden?" This question is addressed thoroughly by subsequent biblical narratives in which a 'return to Eden' is the thematic end. For example, Deuteronomy 30:15–16 reads:

"See, I have set before you today life and good, death and evil. If you obey the commandments of the Lord your God that I command you today, by loving the Lord your God, by walking in his ways, and by keeping his commandments and his statutes and his rules, then you shall live and multiply, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land that you are entering to take possession of it."

The reference to life, good, death, and evil strongly echo the trees of the garden and the associated commandment. Prior to the Mosaic discourse, the new generation of Israelites in the wilderness are described as those who "have no knowledge of good and evil" (Deut. 1:39). Before they enter the land of Canaan, Joshua is met by a 'man' with a drawn sword (Josh. 5:13), reminiscent of the cherubim guarding Eden. His identity is revealed when he commands Joshua "Take off your sandals from your feet, for the place where you are standing is holy." (Josh. 5:15).

The dialogic of Genesis 1–3

As modern readers, we need to be very cautious in our hermeneutical approach to Genesis, which seems to present truth in dialogue. This concept is foreign to the western mind, but has been rediscovered and articulated primarily through the work of the Russian literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin. On this point, T.L. Brodie is worth quoting at length, as he applies the dialogical concept of truth to Genesis:

"The perspective of modern rationalism...is essentially single, linear. Reality is weighed and measured. History is the facts. Such an approach is not to be neglected; it can be monumentally useful. But reality is more complex, and so is the mind. Even for physics, reality is elusive, composed ultimately not of waves or particles but of wavicles, whatever these may be... Genesis had no idea of modern physics, but at some level it knew that reality is not solid, that the mind and heart and soul need breathing space. And God is not solid—not a wooden idol—but can be viewed and experienced from diverse perspectives. The twofold picture of creation, for instance, forms, as it were, a sense of space, a place in which the mind, instead of fastening, perhaps idolatrously, on one image is teased to another viewing point. One mirror gives a single image; but two facing mirrors give processions of images, resonating energy and depth. The diptych structure therefore...is one way both of evoking the richness and elusiveness of reality, and also of opening the mind, of giving it breathing space and freeing it from a form of spiritual and psychological fundamentalism."⁴⁴

Rather than abstracting the creation narratives to pure metaphor, or reducing them to a single event in history, I argue that we can faithfully apply Genesis 1–3 to every sphere of life through a literary-canonical approach that also recognizes the complexity of the narrative's reality. Our quest is never ending, like the dialogue itself, but we continue to live out the experience in our own lives and in worship. God is not one-sided, to be known and analyzed like an experiment, but the Creator God is also the Redeemer God. His truth is presented dialogically. He has made us and called us to communion with him; to bear his image so that the glory of God in Eden would cover the whole earth. But uncreation and exile remain equally imminent realities for the one who presumes to determine good and evil for oneself.

––––––––––––––––

'Ideas, of their nature, are dialogical; they are held in response to others and in anticipation of what others may say. "An utterance is always a reply".'⁴⁵

Notes:
1. See my last post, On reading Genesis as literature: breaking the hermeneutical bonds of a modern controversy
2. This concept is elegantly captured by the literary phenomenon of intertextuality (cf. A.S. Byatt's essay here; also Hays, R.B., Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (Yale University Press, 1989), 254 p.)
3. I merely intend to echo the better articulated and more involved argumentation of Auerbach, E., Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature (Princeton University Press, 1953), 616 p.
4. Diepstra, G.R., and Laughery, G.J., 2009, Interpreting Science and Scripture: Genesis 1–3: European Journal of Theology, v. 18, p. 5–16.
5. Ibid., p. 12.
6. As argued in Burke, K., The Rhetoric of Religion: Studies in Logology (University of California Press, 1961), p. 201–207.
7. I am borrowing this term and its usage from Wright, N.T., New Testament and the People of God (Fortress Press, 1994), p. 31–46. Though focused on New Testament studies, Wright's methodological insights as a historian-theologian are both pertinent and profound.
8. Strauss, L., The Beginning of the Bible and Its Greek Counterparts, in Genesis: Modern Critical Interpretations (Chelsea House, 1986), p. 25.
9. To demonstrate this disparity, picture the following in your head: "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." Does that picture look anything like this? If so, you have already read the text very differently from its original audience.
10. Laughery, G.J., and Diepstra, G.R., 2006, Scripture, Science, and Hermeneutics: European Journal of Theology, p. 35–49. Citation from p. 38.
11. By 'moralistic framework', I am referring to a basic reward-punishment system. The book of Job, among other wisdom literature, challenges the idea that good comes to the good and bad comes to the bad; that there is a simple cause-effect relationship between righteousness and reward, evil and suffering. For a more detailed discussion, I recommend Hayes' lecture Responses to Suffering and Evil: Lamentations and Wisdom Literature from Yale University (2011).
12. Strauss (1986).
13. Diepstra and Laughery (2009), p. 9.
14. I am an aspiring geologist by profession, but only an amateur student of theology/history/literary criticism, heavily influenced by the limited selection of works from each discipline that I have read thus far.
15. The Cambridge Bible Commentary, New English Bible, Genesis 1–11 (Cambridge University Press, 1973), eds. P.R. Ackroyd, A.R.C. Leaney, J.W. Packer, 118 p. “Genesis 1 strips creation of this mythological character. The entire conflict theme has disappeared. The God of the Genesis creation story is not one of the forces of nature, not even the supreme fertility god or Nature with a capital N. He stands over against the world as its sovereign creator, the source of everything in it, but not identifiable with it. He is wholly other, the transcendent God.” p. 14
16. Morrow, J., 2009, Creation as Temple-Building and Work as Liturgy in Genesis 1-3: Journal of the Orthodox Center for the Advancement of Biblical Studies, v. 2, p. 1.
17. Kline, M., 1958, Because It Had Not Rained: Westminster Theological Journal, v. 20, p. 146–157.
18. Niskanen, P., 2009, The Poetics of Adam: The creation of אךם in the Image of אלהים: Journal of Biblical Literature, v. 128, p. 417–436.
19. The Cambridge Bible Commentary (1973): “[The tragedy of Gen. 2:15–3:24], for the narrator, is not ancient story but an ever present reality. Religious motifs, from many different circles in the Ancient Near East, are taken by the narrator and transformed in the crucible of his own experience. Faith, like poetry, communicates some of its deepest truths through symbols which, steeped in tradition, are yet capable of being given ever new meaning.” p. 48
20. Vervenne, M., 2001, Genesis 1,1–2,4. The Compositional texture of the Priestly Overture to the Pentateuch, in Wénin, A. (ed.), 2001, Studies in the Book of Genesis: literature, redaction and history: Leuven University Press, p. 53.
21. The Cambridge Bible Commentary (1973), p. 14.
22. For a brief overview, see Lim, J., 2005, Genesis 1–11 and its Ancient Near Eastern Parallels: Asia Journal of Theology, p. 68–78; also Sarna (1966). A more comprehensive study can be found in Walton, J., 2006, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament: Baker Academic, 368 p.
23. Ibid. "Deliberately [the fourth day account] avoids naming the sun and the moon, both of which were widely worshipped. The stars were likewise often thought to control man's destiny. This entire astrological fatalism is here swept into the religious wastepaper basket." p. 21
24. Strauss (1986), p. 29.
25. Bloom, H., Genesis: Modern Critical Interpretations (Chelsea House, 1986), p. 4.
26. cf. James 1:13–15.
27. Longman III, T., How to read Genesis (InterVarsity Press, 2005), p. 111.
28. Burke (1961) writes “And there is to be an eternal enmity between man and the serpent", the latter of which he calls "the image, or narrative personification, of the principle of Temptation...” p. 207.
29. Ricoeur, P., The Symbolism of Evil (Beacon Press, 1967), p. 232–242. See also Stefanovic, Z., 1994, The Great Reversal: thematic links between Genesis 2 and 3: Andrews University Seminary Studies, v. 32, p. 47–56.
30. Alter, R., The Art of Biblical Narrative (Basic Books, 1981), p. 144.
31. Niskanen (2009).
32. Bloom (1986), p. 5.
33. For a full exegesis of this concept (so elegantly captured in the book's title), see Fesko, J.V., Last Things First: Unlocking Genesis with the Christ of Eschatology (Mentor, 2007), 208 p.
34. Sarna, N.M., Understanding Genesis: the heritage of biblical Israel (Shocken Books, 1966), p. 25.
35. The Cambridge Bible Commentary (1973), “The characters in this story do not have personal names...This is the story of ‘Everyman’. The trees in the garden are not ordinary trees... The garden has strange creatures in it, a talking serpent and a guard of cherubim. The whole purpose of the narrative is not to describe what once happened but to explain certain puzzling features of life and human experience known to the narrator.” p. 28–29.
36. Ricoeur (1967), "The proto-historical myth [of Adam] thus served not only to generalize the experience of Israel, applying it to all mankind, at all times and in all places, but also to extend to all mankind the great tension between condemnation and mercy that the teaching of the Prophets had revealed in the particular destiny of Israel." p. 242.
37. A palimpsest is an ancient document (paper, leather, etc.) whose text has been scraped off so that another can be written in its place. See this article by Mark Sprinkle at Biologos for an artistic and hermeneutical usage of the term.
38. Diepstra and Laughery (2009), p. 10.
39. Ibid., p. 10.
40. Ibid., p. 14.
41. See Alter, R., Composite Artistry: P and J, in Genesis: Modern Critical Interpretations (Chelsea House, 1986), p. 49–56.
42. Brodie, T.L., Genesis as Dialogue: A Literary, Historical, and Theological Commentary (Oxford, 2001), 614 p.
43. Ibid., p. 18.
44. Ibid., p. 27.
45. Brodie, T.L., Genesis as Dialogue, in Studies in the Book of Genesis: Literature, Redaction, and History (Leuven University Press, 2001), ed. A. Wenín, p. 311.

Gasping for oxygen, and an argument: AiG's 'News to Note' and the Permo-Triassic Extinction

2011-10-31T23:41:00.000-07:00

As an aside to my current series of posts, I thought it might be worth commenting on a recent news update at Answers in Genesis (News to Note, Oct. 22). Therein, Dr. Elizabeth Mitchell tried unsuccessfully to subvert the work of Dr. Ariel Anbar (Arizona State University) and his research group to corroborate her own view that a recent, catastrophic flood deposited nearly all Phanerozoic strata. According to Mitchell, this includes Permian and Triassic rocks, which are differentiated by an abrupt disappearance of most fossil groups. The Permo-Triassic extinction event is the largest known from geologic history, and was responsible for the loss of some 70% of terrestrial species and more than 90% of marine species (including the iconic trilobite).

Ocean anoxia has long been cited as a major cause of the mass extinction, since there is widespread evidence for the deposition of black shales, a shutdown in marine productivity, and enhanced burial of organic carbon—all of which precede or coincide with the extinction horizon. Black shales are extremely rich in organic material, which can only be preserved in low-oxygen conditions. They also provide evidence of slow burial, since rapid sedimentation tends to 'dilute' the concentration of organic remains from microscopic marine organisms (e.g., algae, phytoplankton, radiolarians). Carbon isotopic signatures and the abundance of trace metals have been used to monitor the recovery of marine microorganisms after the extinction event. Geologists have been eager, however, to refine this hypothesis quantitatively. What caused the ocean anoxia? How long did it last? How much of the ocean became anoxic?

A recent study by Brennecka et al. (2011) employed a rather novel technique in the study of ocean anoxic events. In short, two major isotopes of uranium (238 and 235) are naturally separated (fractionated) to small extent when positively charged uranium (6+) is reduced (i.e. gains electrons) in the absence of oxygen. The latter form (tetravalent uranium, with a charge of 4+) is highly insoluble in water, and so is drawn down into the sediments. Since the heavier isotope (²³⁸U) is preferred in the tetravalent form, sediments deposited under anoxic conditions will yield a slightly higher isotopic signature (δ238U). Conversely, the uranium isotopic signature (δ238U) of the ocean should decrease when anoxic conditions are sufficiently prevalent to perturb the uranium cycle.

Uranium is present in low concentrations in the ocean, so the time needed for uranium isotopic signatures to respond to anoxic events is relatively short (compared to isotopes of carbon, for example, which take upward of ~100,000 years to equilibrate). This makes it an ideal proxy for quantifying past changes in ocean chemistry. Only recently have uranium isotopes been employed in the study of paleoceanography, however, since the technology required to precisely measure δ238U was not previously available (Montoya-Pino et al., 2010). Brennecka et al. (2011) analyzed δ238U in a section of carbonate rock (limestone) from southern China that contained the Permo-Triassic boundary. They concluded that anoxic conditions increased by ~6 times normal for the Permian ocean, and further that these conditions prevailed for only ~50,000 years following the mass extinction. Previous hypotheses assumed a more pervasive and long-lasting event.

"Abruptness of ancient oceanic alterations fit the Flood"?

Dr. Mitchell's response to the article was unfortunately ignorant of the geology/chemistry behind the study. When summarizing key assumptions, for example, she states:

"[Brennecka et al., 2011] assumed that there was an “isotopically constant U input from rivers..." as well as “a constant isotope fractionation between seawater” and the various places where precipitated uranium gets deposited. In other words, their interpretation that sudden global depletion of oceanic oxygen caused mass extinction assumes that nothing happened to suddenly change the amount of water flowing into the sea or to stir up the oceans more than usual."

There is a logical disconnect in Dr. Mitchell's reasoning. Changes in the flux of water (and hence dissolved uranium) into the oceans would not affect the uranium isotopic signature of the oceans to any significant degree. The average δ238U value of crustal materials (basalt/granite) is -0.3‰, while the value of dissolved U in modern seawater is -0.4‰ (Montoya-Pino et al., 2010). The difference is almost too small to be measured. One can visualize the effect by analogy of mixing paints at the hardware store. Adding one bucket of yellow paint (U in rivers) to another bucket of yellow paint (U in the oceans) yields one large bucket of yellow paint. Dr. Mitchell has essentially noted that the authors 'assumed that mixing yellow paint with yellow paint would not make the paint green'.

The assumption that uranium input from rivers was "isotopically constant" has nothing to do, therefore, with how much water enters the ocean. Dr. Mitchell does not explain, moreover, why "stir[ring] up the oceans more than usual" would falsify the assumption that isotopic fractionation remained constant between oxic and anoxic environments. Isotopic fractionation depends rather on the geochemistry of the water: temperature, pH, and concentration of dissolved ions. Temperature has little effect on the fractionation of uranium, because the mass difference between 238U and 235U is negligible. Since uranium is deposited in ionic complexes with carbonate anions (CO₃^2-), the latter two factors would only affect isotopic fractionation at very low carbonate concentrations (unrealistic for marine settings). The isotopic exchange of uranium between uranyl species (i.e. the oxidation and reduction of UO₂²⁺ in oxic/anoxic environments) is thus favored as the primary cause of isotopic fractionation.

Dr. Mitchell must explain, therefore, how δ238U could suddenly shift negative by 0.28‰ in a carbonate sequence that was supposedly deposited catastrophically during the Flood. Instead, she overlooks the significance of the data and appeals to her starting position (petitio principii):

"The biblical record however tells of a sudden global change in the oceans—the Flood. The global Flood not only sends all the stated assumptions by which the investigators have interpreted their data out the window but actually explains their findings."

We have already seen how this scenario does nothing to falsify the assumptions of Brennecka et al. (2011), so one is left to wonder how Dr. Mitchell got from point A to point B. What changes specifically does she refer to? We are completely justified in asking for a viable, scientific explanation for the observed trends in uranium isotopes according to her views on geologic history. But Dr. Mitchell's silence is telling; she does not understand the data and so she cannot explain them scientifically. She continues:

"The Permian layers are at the top of the Paleozoic rock sequence, a sequence dominated by marine invertebrate fossils. In the upper layers of these Paleozoic rocks, amphibians and land animals do make their appearance."

Paleozoic rocks are no more "dominated by marine invertebrate fossils" than the overlying Mesozoic sequence. It just so happens that terrestrial depositional environments are better preserved in the Mesozoic (a phenomenon predicted by plate tectonic theory). Numerous species of land animals (and plants) are known from the Paleozoic, but they are less familiar to most people outside the field of paleontology. Nonetheless, should we be surprised that terrestrial organisms become more diverse and abundant in time? Is there an argument hidden in these blank, misleading statements? She writes:

"The Paleozoic...layers...are dominated by marine creatures because those would have been the first buried by oceanic upheavals as the earth’s crust cracked as described in Genesis 7:11. The distribution of fossils in the higher layers would have depended in part upon animals’ abilities to flee the rising waters."

Technically, land animals and plants should have been the first to be buried, since they would be the first to be overwhelmed with sediment-saturated waves from the ocean masses. Apparently Dr. Mitchell is unfamiliar with the effect of tsunamis on land inhabitants—how exactly does one's "ability to flee the rising waters" of such catastrophes factor in? At best, we might expect to find fossils organized hydrodynamically—intermingled marine and terrestrial forms—but we find just the opposite. Fossils are not sorted by the forces of flowing water, but divided neatly by ecological habitat. Dr. Mitchell's uninformed musings aside, I can't help but to notice that she has completely evaded any meaningful discussion of uranium isotopes and the Permo-Triassic boundary. Perhaps there is hope in her final paragraph:

"If these abrupt changes in Permian uranium are a snapshot of abrupt global changes at the time those Permian rock layers were laid down, then those changes are a snapshot of the turbulent conditions of a part of the Flood year, perhaps even related volcanic outpourings of lavas and chemical-laden hot waters at the time. The Bible explains these sudden catastrophic changes to the earth’s surface, the resulting massive death toll, and apparently some significant geochemical changes as well."

It pains me to think how many readers will take these words for granted—uncritically and without reservation. Dr. Mitchell's description has no scientific basis and appeals rather to the ignorance of her audience (i.e. she must assume that her audience does not grasp the science behind the study—a very disingenuous move). She implies here that "volcanic outpourings" may have something to do with the results of the study. What is the connection? Please tell us! In fact, there is no connection—these phenomena would have no effect on uranium isotopes in Permo-Triassic carbonate sequences. Dr. Mitchell thus appeals to ignorant conjecture over against the evidence she cites. Yet because of her credentials (which have nothing to do with geology), many a reader will conflate the two. Worst of all, her association of the biblical text with a false interpretation of geological data is counterproductive to the gospel message. It is hardly surprising that so many have deemed the church "antagonistic to science".

The big picture: why study ocean anoxic events in the first place?

To conclude, I want to consider briefly how Dr. Mitchell begins her review:

"While the cause of this extinction event has eluded secular geologists, hypotheses have generally held that millions of years of oceanic oxygen depletion preceded the deaths."

Evidence for severe climatic change at the Permo-Triassic boundary is overwhelming. A more difficult task is assigning the proper causal relationship between these changes and the extinctions that accompanied them. Ocean anoxia is but one among several factors that may have been partially responsible for the sharp reduction in marine taxa at the end of the Permian. The new finding that anoxia may have been more abrupt than previously hypothesized is very helpful, but does not preclude other factors from playing a part. All in all, it is fairly misleading to say that the cause(s) of the extinction has/have "eluded secular geologists".

One of the key words in the study by Brennecka et al. (2011) is 'sensitivity'—that is, sensitivity of the oceans and its life to environmental changes. The relevance of this study to our own time cannot be overstated, and I think our time would be better spent in awe of the fragility of life, and our ultimate responsibility over it. One of the best ways to appreciate our current position (or predicament) in the cosmos, I think, is to study the geologic past in light of the commission found in Genesis 1:26.

References Cited:

Brennecka, G. A., Herrmann, A.D., Algeo, T. J., Anbar, A. D., 2011, Rapid expansion of oceanic anoxia immediately before the end-Permian mass extinction: Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

Montoya-Pino, C., Weyer, S., Anbar, A.D., Pross, J., Oschmann, W., van de Schootbrugge, B., Arz, H.W., 2010, Global enhancement of ocean anoxia during Oceanic Anoxic Event 2: A quantitative approach using U isotopes: Geology, v. 38, p. 315–318.

On reading Genesis as literature: breaking the hermeneutical bonds of a modern controversy

2011-10-26T19:32:00.000-07:00

On the absence of Genesis

Recently, I realized that I could not think of a single instance over the past 10 years in which Genesis was used as the primary text of the sermon. Of course, I limited my thought experiment to congregations that I had personally attended, and though I acknowledge that there are too many exceptions to make a sweeping generalization, I suspect that many of you have had similar experiences. Today, Genesis is a relatively neglected text in the arena of ecclesial exposition. Given its canonical importance in the biblical text, however, and the primacy of the Genesis narratives in biblical theology (or redemptive history), I am eager to witness—if not facilitate—a radical reversal of this trend in the church body. In short, I am of the opinion that Genesis should be read, preached, and studied at least annually within every congregation.

We need not be subtle in answering why pastors commonly consign Genesis to a reference in passing, rather than the point of departure for most sermons. A great deal of controversy in the modern church has centered around the Genesis narratives—a problem noted by the very title of this blog. Drawing from the sentiments of personal acquaintances (including some pastors), I realize that most church leaders have approached Genesis with caution, not wishing to ignite a divisive dialogue among the laity. They realize that when Genesis is read, hands go up, and not a few members ultimately wish to hear their own position fortified and certain others denounced.

Any sophisticated study of Genesis, moreover, necessarily entails some very difficult questions (regardless of one's hermeneutical inclinations). What do we say about the historicity of the patriarchs? Of the flood? The age of the earth? How does the cosmogony given in Genesis 1–2 intersect with modern science—or does it? Unfortunately, we all share an epistemic stumbling block in that we live in a society born out of the European Enlightenment and demand systematic and scientific understanding of nearly every topic we encounter. Could it be that we have inappropriately projected this mentality back onto Genesis? I hope to convince you that we have indeed.

Warrant for caution or resolution?

A common challenge to pastors thus arises out of the fact that diverse opinions are accompanied by a ubiquitous philosophical ambition for singular truth. When preaching through Genesis, one must decide 1) whether or not to take a firm stance on any one view; 2) which views to teach or critique; and 3) whether any view should be bound to the conscience of the believer. Consequently it seems that all too often, sermons on Genesis constitute more a commentary on the demographics of the church than on the biblical message.

I want to submit to you, therefore, that we can move forward by reading Genesis apart from this modern controversy. In other words, let us avoid anachronism by critiquing the reader before the text. Once we recognize the hermeneutical bonds of our own Sitz im leben, we are better prepared to approach Genesis for what it really is: a piece of ancient, divinely inspired literature and historiography that functions both theologically and polemically within its own unique time and place.

When people ask me which 'view' of Genesis I take (the day-age view, the six-day view, the analogical day view, the framework hypothesis, etc.), I typically respond with "none of the above". I do not intend to be cunning with this answer, but critical. In my experience, many of these views begin by taking a firm stance on the modern controversy over science/faith, the age of the earth, etc., and then interpret scripture accordingly (these presuppositions may or may not be vocalized). Even Ken Ham—who would snidely respond with the truistic "I take the biblical view!"—is not free from the influence of his rejection of modern geology and evolutionary theory on reading scripture. Appealing to a 'plain, common-sense reading of the text' adds absolutely nothing to the discussion, not least because no such reading exists. The ideal of 'common sense' is as fluid as society, culture, and even academic disciplines.

I am alluding here in part to the postmodernist challenge to literary criticism. [In case I have raised a flag in your mind at the mere mention of this word, please bare with me.] We need not capitulate to relativism to appreciate postmodernist theory in at least one positive light: it stands a necessary challenge to the reductionism and arrogance of modernism. Any critique of a text must simultaneously be a critique of the reader. Literalistic readings of Genesis are often simplistic and theologically unsophisticated, in part because they aspire to narrowly define meaning so as to avoid any influence from 'modern science' or liberalism. In so doing, however, they separate the text from its own Sitz im leben, treating it as an autonomous entity that functions more like a mirror than a window. Consequently, biblical literalists ultimately tell us more about themselves than the worldview of the biblical authors. In this sense, their readings are more 'postmodern' than they would freely admit, but without any critical force.

Through a glass darkly

Before one accuses me of placing Genesis beyond the reach of any non-expert in literary criticism (this includes myself, by the way), I should clarify that our 'misreadings' are not necessarily fruitless. In no way do we undermine the perspicuity of scripture by highlighting interpretive difficulties. Consider, for example, J.P. Fokkelman's (1975) metaphor of the living text:

"The birth of a text resembles that of man: the umbilical cord which connected the text with its time...is severed once its existence has become a fact; the text is going to lead a life of its own, for whenever a reader grants it an adequate reading it will come alive and become operative and it usually survives its maker. Whereas the creation of a text is finite...its re-creation is infinite. It is a task for each new age, each new generation, each new reader, never to be considered complete."

In other words, all forms of literature function artistically in that two parties are involved—the author and the reader. Both parties contribute to the significance of a text, which—as an explicative symbolism—cannot be reduced to mere words on a page or an object of scientific analysis. Readings can be effectual, therefore, without mimicking authorial intent (the most pertinent examples can be found in the New Testament usage of the Hebrew Bible), since all readings are in fact dialogues between the reader and the text, or between the reader and the author.*

Nearly all literary critics admit that we can never truly read an author's thoughts after him/her. They are divided, however, on whether the very pursuit—futile or not—constitutes a worthy goal. We gain some insight, perhaps, in the writings of E.D. Hirsch, who is best noted for distinguishing between the 'meaning' and 'significance' of a text. 'Meaning' is ultimately rooted in authorial intent, according to Hirsch, who finds himself in the academic minority (albeit, a highly valued one) for positing that authorial intent is theoretically knowable. Although Hirsch writes in response to the New Criticism, embodied to some extent by Fokkelman's metaphor, their insights need not be taken as mutually exclusive. Commenting on the previous citation by Fokkelman, for example, B.W. Anderson (1978) writes:

"Frankly, I must admit to misgivings about some exercises in rhetorical criticism which seem to be purely formal, almost mathematical, and lack a dimension of depth that adds richness to the text. Moreover, some biblical theologians wonder whether this new form of literalism, which disavows interest in historical questions, leads us to a docetic view of revelation...Despite these reservations, one is compelled to agree that the proper starting-point methodologically is with the text as given, not with the reconstruction of the prehistory of the text which, as Fokkelman observes, is usually 'an unattainable ideal.'"

Anderson's use of the term "literalism" here should not necessarily be equated with the hermeneutic of young-Earth creationism (as I've used it above). Instead, he is contrasting two broad schools of thought: those which begin with the text alone (literalism), and those which begin with the 'prehistory' of a text (i.e. compositional history, such as the documentary hypothesis surrounding the Pentateuch, and/or the cultural setting of the author). In the former, readings lack depth and preclude any meaningful historical discussion; in the latter, readings are potentially misguided by the pursuit of an impossible standard. In light of this analytical tension, Anderson exhorts us to consider the "functional unity" of the received text first; the unified message of the text's literary components are to be established at the outset. Then—and only then—are we free to explore the historical function and genesis of each component or literary source.

If we endeavor to treat the biblical text not as a mirror, which can only serve to reorient our own paradigms and experience, but rather as a window to the author's message, then we need to be acutely aware of all presuppositions we bring to the discussion. We should not pretend, moreover, that the spotted window can be polished to perfection with the 'Windex' of modern literary analysis. As in real life, cleaning the 'windows of biblical narrative' may only enhance their reflective quality. The influence of the reader on a text is ultimately inescapable, but a perceptive mind can at least distinguish in general between the reflection and what filters through the glass—given that it knows what to look for. Lastly, we should be conscious that even biblical narrative recounts history 'as through a glass darkly' because it is selective of the facts, and through stained glass because it explains those facts poetically in terms of God's eschatological providence.**

The need for a new (hermeneutical) exodus of Genesis

What I have proposed here is neither novel nor exhaustive (despite my optimistic subheading). At best, I have provided an outline and a point of departure for the discussion to follow. I won't pretend to have all the right answers, but I hope that I have at least asked the right questions. Can we read Genesis apart from modern controversies regarding science and faith? If so, how? Lastly, does this 'fresh perspective' offer any unique value to the church? Does it mitigate or only deepen the outstanding conflict among congregations today? Perhaps, the proof is (or will be) in the pudding.

Inasmuch as literary analysis tends to atomize textual elements, our reading of Genesis should remain conscious of an organic unity in the biblical text. In other words, however we tackle the elusive meaning of Genesis 1, our reading should simultaneously explain how Genesis 1–2:4 functions in the literary unit of Genesis 1–3. To be consistent, and to test the predictive power of our reading, we can apply this principle to the greater literary units of Genesis 1–11, Genesis 1–50, the Pentateuch as a whole, and the Hebrew bible as a whole. In each case, we can ask whether our reading elucidates these later texts—i.e. whether it functions canonically—or causes hermeneutical conflicts. For the Christian, our reading of Genesis 1–2:4 should also elucidate the gospel narratives to be effective or acceptable, I think.

Take the example of Genesis 1:2, which tells us that "the spirit of God was moving over the waters" (NASB). This chaotic prelude to creation is recounted intertextually in a number of subsequent narratives—most notably following the climax of the Flood narrative, where "God caused a wind to pass over the earth, and the water subsided" (Gen. 8:1; consider that the same word is used for 'wind' and 'spirit'). If we are inclined to remain focused on the meteorological characteristics of the wind, then we will inevitably miss how the author has set the stage for a new creation of heaven and earth around Noah, God's new Adam. Genesis 8 effectively retells the creation narrative of Genesis 1, which begs the question: are the six days of creation merely a past reality? Is God still resting?

In Exodus 14:21, the Lord "swept the sea back by a strong east wind all night and turned the sea into dry land, so the waters were divided," thus retelling the exodus story as a new creation of heaven and earth centered around Israel, God's new Adam. What does this tell us about the vocation of Israel? About the mechanism and significance of God's role as creator? Matthew's gospel (especially the genealogy) is perhaps the most explicit in presenting the incarnation and gospel ministry as a new creation centered around Jesus, God's new Adam. In Matthew 3:16, we are even told that "After being baptized, Jesus came up immediately from the water; and behold, the heavens were opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending as a dove...". How does Genesis 1:2 function canonically in these texts? Do our previous interpretations of Genesis 1–2:4 deprive it of such a function?

This literary-canonical approach presupposes organic unity to the text (i.e. divine inspiration) without dismissing the literary contributions of individual authors and their cultural (sociological) settings. If done well, we can further proceed to ask historical (and scientific) questions surrounding the text without drawing the false dichotomy between 'story' and 'meaning'. In other words, we need not take upon us the imprudent and impossible task of separating reality from metaphor, myth from history, and modern science from ancient phenomenology. Finally, we can even delve into questions regarding the compositional history of the Bible (including the Pentateuch) without deconstructing the meaning and significance of the biblical message.

When we read Genesis, we enter into dialogue with a very distant conversational partner. Will we let him speak, or simply listen for the echo of our own monologue?

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* To offer a more practical example of this concept, consider the love sonnets of Shakespeare. The same sonnet can be read differently by two parties without betraying the message of the author: the first is a 65-year-old widower who was married for 30 years; the second is a 16-year-old girl who is jealous of her older sibling's recent engagement. For the widower, the text serves as nostalgic realism, appealing to his own romantic experience, which now stands distant. For the young girl, the same text serves as fantasy, appealing to an experience hoped for, but not yet realized. We need not conclude, however, that Shakespeare's message is entirely lost to the difficulties of interpretive relativism.

** I cannot take credit for this metaphor, but I found it too insightful not to share. I hope that it serves its purpose.

References Cited:

Anderson, B.W., 1978, From Analysis to Synthesis: the interpretation of Genesis 1–11: Journal of Biblical Literature, v. 97, p. 23–39.

Fokkelman, J.P., 1975, Narrative Art in Genesis: Specimens of Stylistic and Structural Analysis: Amsterdam, 260 p.

A practical appendix to the 'appearance of age' question

2011-10-14T15:01:00.000-07:00

Following up on my last post, I wanted to share a link to another article—entitled Apparent Age: Craters on Mars—that appeared last month on the Natural Historian blog. The author eloquently demonstrates how an appeal to 'appearance of age' self-destructs in practice. He does so by addressing the origin of craters on Mars and the moon (as well as a handful of geological features here on earth). He states:

"Today, modern creationists would have us believe that these features really do have real histories and some have even gone as far as trying to make the craters on the moon and Mars the result of real events in time and space after the creation week. If this is the case and God created something in the space of 6 days, where then is the dividing line between apparent age and real age? This is a critical part of the creation debate that is rarely acknowledged or talked about but is very important in understanding the differences between some of the views even among modern creationists."

If you have time, take a look. The article is worth reading and is bound to constructively criticize your own thinking, wherever you may stand with respect to 'appearance of age' in the cosmos.

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Several days ago, Dr. Peter Enns posted an article on the same topic. He specifically identified two problems with the 'apparent age' perspective offered by Al Mohler (which I linked in the last post). First, he says (emphasis original):

"Mohler needs to account not only for why the cosmos looks old, but why the cosmos–including the earth and life on it–looks like it evolved."

This goes back to my analogy with the portrait and the brush strokes. To the natural scientist, the cosmos appear as more than a beautiful picture to be adored. It is rich with brush strokes that explain how all the pieces formed and came together so as to function as a meaningful whole.

Dr. Enns further addresses whether Dr. Mohler has arbitrarily chosen which "portions of Scripture he reads 'plainly'". To be fair, hermeneutical consistency is a rare find. But Dr. Enns' criticism is concise and straightforward, and he raises questions that need to be answered by any person involved with the origins debate.

Appearance of age or true age? Better yet—what's the difference?

2011-10-12T22:50:00.000-07:00

For many a Christian struggling with the implications of an old universe, the challenges of modern science, or for those who simply seek to dismiss both out of hand, an appeal to 'appearance of age' in the cosmos commonly brings comfort (e.g. here). If Jesus could conjure a beverage with the appearance that it was finely aged; if God made man as a fully functioning human adult; if our very solar system was built in working order—how then can we use modern science to challenge the plain cosmology set out in the early chapters of Genesis?

Cosmology and vinification

Let's consider the first example. Why should a universe that 'looks old' falsify the young-Earth paradigm any more than the wedding guests at Cana should have doubted the miraculous work of Jesus? One might say: "The very appearance of age rather established the divinity of the messianic task!" Simplistic—yes. But I cannot argue with the basic premise that God's work could indeed bear the appearance of age.

On the other hand, John's account represents a highly theological retelling of the events at Cana. "On the third day," he begins, thereby linking the narrative to the resurrection story. To further drive this point, he follows with Mary's plea and a cryptic—and seemingly out of character—response by Jesus: "Woman, what does this have to do with us? My time is not yet come!" As such, the story is thoroughly eschatological, pointing forward to a much greater wedding feast that begins at the resurrection. There, God's people will understand that He has saved the best for last (cf. John 2:10).

I am skeptical, therefore, of the systematic theological method by which analogy is drawn between Jesus' miraculous, revelatory act of grace and the very formation of the cosmos. Are we not reading this backwards? Should we not begin at the story of God's creation, and trace the theme of new creation canonically (cf. Genesis 1; John 1) so as to understand Jesus' entire ministry as a divine act of creation? If not, then we shall miss the grander points of the gospel narrative. But if so, then those who would compare the history of the wine to that of the cosmos stand on shaky, exegetical ground.

Matthew's gospel is equally explicit regarding Jesus and his ministry, and this pattern of thought should guide our reasoning. He begins with "The Book of Genesis of Jesus Christ..." (Matt. 1:1), and then chronicles the six days of Israel's creation by capturing her covenant history within 42 generations (6 intervals of 7 generations each). Jesus—as the pinnacle of the sixth "day" who would also inaugurate the Sabbath rest of God—is identified intertextually as the new Adam, and his coming signifies new creation. God is moving once again on behalf of his people, advancing them toward the utopian portrait that is the Garden of Eden, and the 'very good' creation of Genesis 1—itself a cosmic temple in which we should all hope to worship.

The art of silence

Any argument that God's creation ex nihilo (Gen. 1–2) warrants an appeal to the appearance of age is ultimately one from silence. The 'maturation' of man, beast, earth, and heavenly host is neither described nor implied. Rather, its presence or absence is inferred by 1) an appeal to extrabiblical evidence, or 2) the literary reduction of Genesis 1–3 to a monological narrative, respectively. In the latter case, the reader demands that the hexaemeron correspond to six days in earth history and be taken as a "God's-eye view" of prehistoric events. Only then may we use Genesis 1 to formulate scientific hypotheses, or to differentiate between real and apparent history.

Though well intentioned and articulated, this hermeneutical principle runs contrary to early Jewish thought, as well as various Christian commentators from Augustine to Warfield and beyond. I don't think it inappropriate, therefore, to examine its merit critically. Despite its ostensibly pious view of the text, for example, this approach tends to project a very Greek and highly nuanced view of history, narrative, and discourse back onto an ancient Hebrew script. In the next post, I will expand on this critique and explore Genesis as literature. Until then, suffice it to say that I believe the young-Earth deference to 'appearance of age' owes more to tradition than to the words of scripture.

Where Answers in Genesis gets it right

Following the lead of George McCready Price, Henry Morris, and others, 'creation science' ministries like Answers in Genesis work on the principle that science can accurately describe history as explicated in scripture. Young-Earth geologists like Andrew Snelling and Steve Austin believe that evidence for Noah's flood is abundant in the geologic column. Michael Oard reconstructs the post-Flood ice age from glacial geomorphology. Physicists Russell Humphreys and Jason Lisle assert that astronomical data correspond to a complex—but recent—formation of the universe by appealing to time dilation and relativity. What do all these names have in common with each other and with myself? All believe that science, faithfully applied, may reveal to us the mysteries of God's creation—in history and today—thereby bringing Him glory.

As a Christian, I commend their approach. "The heavens declare the glory of God," says the Psalmist, and God's people say "Amen". Thus the folks at Answers in Genesis believe that science—as a method of understanding natural phenomena—should be able to answer how this truth plays out in practice. Insofar as parts of the universe were made with an appearance of age, however, even creation scientists must acknowledge that these phenomena are removed from scientific inquiry by definition. [And no, not merely by the confines of materialistic naturalism. One need not reject divine providence to deem such questions 'unscientific', though a consignment of all unscientific claims to untruth, irrationality, or meaninglessness constitutes an erroneous, philosophical naïveté in itself, called scientism, which is the extreme outworking of logical positivism.]

Unfortunately, my agreement with the young-Earth creationist ends with this basic principle. As a scientist, I cannot maintain intellectual honesty while affirming that the Earth is young and was subjected to a global catastrophe some 5,000 years ago. Not only is the evidence missing, but overwhelming evidence stands against it. The methodology of creation scientists, moreover, is fundamentally flawed and unscientific. In almost every case, the conclusion is known in advance and used to paint the data accordingly. Lastly, numerous claims of creation scientists have been documented as false, leaving one to speculate whether they are made disingenuously or simply out of ignorance. I pray for the latter.

A diluvial dilemma

For the sake of argument, assume that Genesis 1 does describe a fiat, ex nihilo, more or less instantaneous creation of the heavens and the earth in recent history. A geologist/astronomer in Adam's company might conclude erroneously that the universe had been around for eons, and he/she could use the scientific method to establish his case. This scenario, I get—an appeal to appearance of age would be valid for those in Adam's day. It is impossible to escape, however, the effect of Noah's deluge on an apparently old world—especially for the literalist. Global catastrophes tend to leave a mark and would effectively reset the evidential 'clock'.

Are we to argue, then, that God made it appear as though such a flood never occurred? Keep in mind that geology as a scientific discipline was born out of the hypothesis that Noah's flood could explain geological strata, especially marine sedimentary rocks found in continental settings (e.g. the Alps). The past 350 years of geological investigation have thoroughly falsified this notion, however, and recent attempts to defend it have been deemed intellectually dishonest, even by the majority of Christian researchers.

The catastrophic deluge of Noah thus creates an insurmountable challenge to those who claim that an appearance of age can save the young-earth paradigm. One may respond by rationalizing or by qualifying the nature of evidence, but such would ultimately call God's redemptive work into question. In the wilderness, Moses exhorted Israel to faithfulness by appealing to God's wondrous acts in Egypt. These events were not hidden from sight or done by magical/mythical creatures—by and large, the plagues were rather extraordinary, 'natural' events, visible by all. The New Testament appeal to evidence and witness in the case of the resurrection is equally vital, if not more so. Can we reduce the resurrection to docetism, claiming that Jesus only appeared to have risen before those so desperate to find him alive? From a historical-critical standpoint: no. From a theological standpoint: absolutely not.

Case in point

I was inspired to write this post after reading part of an online discussion found here. The pseudonymous blogger TurretinFan offered five responses to the charge that God knowingly created the universe to look old, despite the fact that it would draw people away from him. I do not intend to offer an exhaustive response to a conversation in which I had no part, but several points are highly relevant to this discussion.

"First, possibly God specifically made the world to look old so that many people would not believe in God."

This raises a more basic question: why should an old-looking universe cause people not to believe in God? The premise only works if God is inextricably tied to a story that is obviously contrary to the facts (i.e. Young-Earth Creationism). Deeper motivations are at work in the one that would use this excuse to reject God. Granted, a young-looking earth with a still-standing Noah's ark might strain the skeptic's rationalization for his/her unbelief, but our hearts are factories of idols.

"Perhaps an old-looking universe is more comfortable... After all, a new-looking universe would be extremely hot, using contemporary scientific models for what constitutes appearance of youth in universes."

This statement—hypothetical as it may be—begs the question, since what "constitutes appearance of youth" is based on physical laws applicable to this universe. A young-looking universe need not be "uncomfortable" if an omnipotent God were behind its nature and origin.

"God could have made people more heat resistant and still made the universe look younger. But then again, perhaps in this scenario, the heat resistance would have led an equal number of people from God. This is all just speculation, of course - but since the question calls for speculation, why not speculate?"

I am at a loss for words, so I will use someone else's: complexity should not be posited without necessity. I understand that TurretinFan is trying to justify his agnosticism with regard to the implications of an old-looking universe, but saying nothing with few words is probably better than saying nothing with many words. All this never to consider the possibility that his interpretation of Genesis could be mistaken?

"...people turned away from God even before modern cosmologies began claiming that the world was 13 billion years old. So, the apparent age of the Earth may simply be an excuse of contemporary atheists and agnostics rather than the actual reason."

I am citing this point because I absolutely agree.

"...the idea that the world "looks" old is largely subjective. It depends on the presuppositions that one brings to the table."

Although presuppositions are involved in the philosophy of science, TurretinFan misuses the term 'subjective' here. The age of the earth (and subsequent geological phenomena) derives from an objective analytical method with strictly defined criteria. By objective, I don't mean 'neutral' or without bias, but rather "relating to a phenomenon within the realm of sensible experience independent of individual thought and perceptible by all observers" (Merriam-Webster). Consequently, the conventional (i.e. accepted by scientists) age of the earth is also subject to change. Historical propositions for the age of the earth have been revised because model assumptions were falsified or because new data became available—not because researchers' existential perceptions changed with respect to these data (i.e. subjective analysis).

While the natural sciences do employ methodological naturalism, this principle is not relevant or applicable to all forms of knowledge. It is not only possible, therefore, to apply the scientific method while affirming the providential work of God; I would even argue that scripture demands it. Otherwise, we silence our ability to say anything meaningful about the phenomenal world, yet God has called us to know it.

One need only assume that science can accurately describe the natural world in order to conclude that the universe looks old. An arbitrary rejection of that conclusion out of scientific ignorance does not make it "subjective".

Lastly, I want to pose a more fundamental question that perhaps has no final answer: what is the difference between a universe that 'looks' old, and one that actually is? Do we save something in our theological paradigms by convincing ourselves and others that a bulk of cosmic and geological history is only imaginary? Not at all. Instead, we praise God ostensibly as an artist, thanking him for the beautiful painting that is our home, all the while denying him the glory by declaring that the brush strokes cannot possibly be real.

Resolution and redirection

There is another possibility, I think: God did not create the cosmos with an 'appearance of age'. That apparent age is real, and the liturgical text of Genesis 1:1–2:4 was never meant to inform us about the physical origins of the universe, let alone the mechanism by which all things were formed. The repeated fiat declarations (e.g. "Let there be light...") reveal something rather about the God of Israel's unrivaled authority in heaven and earth. It is a polemical statement that undermines pagan notions regarding the limited power of deities in creative acts. Pagan deities strived against each other and against the reigning chaotic realm. According to the author of Genesis, neither chaos nor the gods nor the elements can challenge the providential decree of the one true God.

I am not the first to offer such an alternative, but many Christians are still desperate to reject it. Why? Foremost, because it challenges traditional nuances of the cosmology presented in Genesis 1. We should not be shocked, however, if these traditions turn out to be mistaken, given the severe time and culture gaps between Genesis and the modern (post-Reformation) reader. We all have a natural tendency to project our own worldview (our Sitz im Leben) back onto the text, as though it were written specifically to address the concerns of our day. For the post-Enlightenment reader, an endemic fascination with science and empirical verification has caused many to overreact by rereading the text as a documentary history that is capable of critiquing modern science and skepticism.

I have no intention of dismissing such readings out of hand, misguided as they may be. Even a misreading of a text can be appropriate in certain contexts. Regardless, I believe that a fresh perspective on Genesis is in order—one that is not shaped a priori by recent controversies over the age of the earth. In light of this goal, I would invite you try reading Genesis for what it actually is: a piece of ancient, divinely inspired literature. To that topic I will turn in my next post.

Copper remnants from ancient feathers—indicative of what precisely?

2011-10-01T21:09:00.000-07:00

A recent article at the Institute for Creation Research (ICR), entitled Trace Metals Study Confirms Fossil Has Original Feathers, represents the latest in a series of misguided attacks on conventional fossil ages, which appeal to biochemical remnants as evidence for recent burial. Author Brian Thomas renewed the case in response to a rather ingenious and novel analytical method applied to an Early Cretaceous (~120 Ma), fossilized bird. Researchers at the University of Manchester used synchotron x-ray technology to map out trace metals in the avian fossil—namely copper and calcium, which are abundant in feathers and bones, respectively. The resulting image clearly shows the original distribution of hard and soft biological components. But what do the data actually reflect?

Have you ever looked at an artist's rendition of an ancient species (dinosaur, bird, etc.) and wondered how they pick colors for the skin and feathers? In many cases, the choice is educated guesswork—an artist's touch. But the researchers in this study employed a more scientific approach. The pigments in bird feathers contain organometallic compounds—essentially a carbon-based structure that binds to a specific metal. Hemaglobin in your blood, for example, is an organic compound that binds to iron so as to color the blood red. Using x-ray analysis to determine the coordination chemistry of trace copper in fossilized feathers, the researchers concluded that the copper derived from a dark pigment called eumelanin. By mapping out where copper is concentrated in the fossil, they inferred that the bird (Confuciusornis sanctus) had dark-brown body feathers, and relatively light-colored wings.

The title of Mr. Thomas's article is very misleading on this point. The Early Cretaceous fossil does not contain original feathers—not even close. All that is left are traces of copper, bound up by singular molecules of cyclic chelates, and a carbonized imprint where the feathers' organic components decayed long ago into the rock. Instead, Wogelius et al. (2011) argued that the organometallic compounds "most likely derived from original eumelanin," indicating that even the pigments have all broken down. When this occurred, the eumelanin released the copper chelates, which are now bound up in the mineral lattices of the rock and very well protected from the elements.

The researchers demonstrated the ubiquitous presence of eumelanin-derived copper chelates in other well preserved, avian fossils—both older and younger than the famed Confuciusornis sanctus. They concluded that "trace element chemistry provides a robust and consistent method for identifying pigment because metal zoning may be preserved long after melanosome structures have been destroyed." In other words, copper chelates naturally break down over time, releasing copper ions into the rock. Copper is not very mobile, however, and binds strongly to oxides, hydroxides, carbonates, etc. Thus the distribution of inorganic copper minerals in fossilized feathers should still reflect that of the original feathers, long after organometallic compounds have all broken down (as in one of the samples).

How did these compounds survive some 120 million years of burial? The findings of Wogelius et al. (2011) are impressive, to be sure (that's why they were published in Science), but scientists have long used remnants of ancient biochemicals to interpret the history of life. Most commonly, these biomarkers are extracted from kerogen and hydrocarbons (oil/gas), which contain numerous fragments of ancient biomolecules. Either way, the stability of organic molecules highly depends on the environment in which they are stored. Organometallic compounds—like the copper chelates described in this study—are most stable in reducing (low-oxygen), non-acidic environments, where the temperature remains moderately low. Given that these compounds would have seen very little interaction with fluids after burial, it is reasonable to expect that some would survive until today.

The verdict?

Mr. Thomas's statement that "the original organic molecules have hardly decayed" is simply false. Nearly all organic molecules have since disappeared, or were reduced to a carbon residue that now stains the rock. He goes on to infer that "fissile organic molecules had not been altered into more resistant chemicals", yet the fissile eumelanin (a carboxylic-acid polymer) is no longer present—only the relatively stable copper chelates.

Arguing from ignorant conjecture, Mr. Thomas adds: "[After] only half a million years...copper should now appear randomly distributed among the rocks, having naturally diffused into the surroundings." How he determines this timeframe is unstated, but it is inaccurate nonetheless. Geological systems cannot be described by such a broad generalization. In sedimentary strata where the water-rock interaction is high, or acidic groundwater prevails, his statement would almost be true. But these conditions hardly describe that of the Cretaceous and Eocene fossils, which accumulated in anoxic lake bottoms, and whose sediments are interbedded with ashfall—a low-permeability barrier to meteoric water.

Contrary to Mr. Thomas's enthusiastic review, the modern condition of these fossils is inconsistent with a recent burial (some 4,500 years ago, according to Mr. Thomas). If that were the case, we should find significantly more organic material, as in Quaternary fossils that Mr. Thomas would claim were buried within hundreds of years of the Flood (say, 4,000 years ago?). Not only do the recent findings by Wogelius et al. (2011) corroborate the conventional geological story, but they thoroughly falsify Mr. Thomas's position.*

*Don't forget to check out the artist's rendition of Confuciusornis sanctus at the Audubon Magazine blog, which also contains a helpful overview of the publication in Science.

Common questions regarding science/faith conflicts

2011-09-27T16:03:00.000-07:00

Well, it has been a quiet September on this blog, but not for me personally! With the beginning of the Fall semester, my dissertation-related tasks were heavily compounded, leaving little time to articulate my geological musings here. On a personal note (for those interested), I've also been adjusting to living apart from my wife, who is currently on the other side of the world as part of an immigration requirement. Needless to say, I am anxiously awaiting December, when I can join her back in Russia.

All that aside, I have been recently corresponding with a news reporter who is writing an article about science and faith conflicts. She asked me to answer three questions, drawing from my experience as a Christian working in the natural sciences, so I thought I would share my responses with you. Keep in mind that the article is not meant to argue for one position or another (or discuss scientific merits), but to provide key information to believers that may feel challenged by the modern scientific discourse. Feel free to comment, as always. I don't expect that all of you will be on the same page.

1. What are the major sources of conflict that fuel the idea that religion and science cannot coexist? Eg. Evolution, global warming, etc.

The notion that science and religion must be at odds is a relatively novel one, fueled today by fundamentalists on both sides. One the one hand, anti-darwinian creationism insists that the majority position in biology (and often geology, astronomy, etc.) cannot possibly be reconciled with Scripture, and therefore it must be false. This group, which comprises ~40% of Americans, is willing to make the claim that 98% of professional biologists are acutely wrong on the most basic questions of their discipline. Consequently, scientists have increasingly been held in general disdain and distrust—an attitude best elucidated by recent reactions to climate science. Moreover, the claim frequently determines how one chooses political candidates and/or supports public education. The most recent debates in the Republican National Convention, for example, were characterized by an unprecedented interest in each candidate's position on climate change and the teaching of evolution in schools.
The link between skepticism of evolution and of climate change is not necessarily organic, as the most prominent critics of anthropogenic global warming (e.g. the Australian geologist Ian Plimer) are also ardent anti-creationists. Both trends are tied, rather, to a more general sociological shift in authority. Whereas "My pastor says..." was gradually replaced by "Scientists say...", both are now trumped by "The healthy skeptic says...". Among fundamentalist brands of creationism, however, skepticism of climate change is a logical consequence for those who doubt that modern science can accurately interpret Earth history.
It is vital to understand that creationist reactions to biological evolution are most often ideologically driven, despite some post hoc attempts to undermine the theory scientifically. Anti-darwinian creationists rarely have academic experience in the natural sciences, let alone evolutionary theory, and they commonly defer expertise to a handful of professional scientists that critique evolutionary theory for a popular audience. These critiques are not taken seriously by academia, however, because they do not accurately reflect debates within modern biology.
On the opposite end, atheistic fundamentalists like Richard Dawkins categorically deny that any religious ideals (Christianity in particular) may be reconciled to the scientific truth of biological evolution. These individuals are even evangelistic in their effort to fight misperceptions of evolution held by the general public and to promote dysteleological ('without a purpose') evolution as incontrovertible truth. Despite heavy criticism from their colleagues, they frequently step beyond their expertise to make raise philosophical arguments against theism, such as the so-called problem of evil. In my experience, authors like Dawkins see theodicy (the problem of evil) as an insurmountable obstacle to accepting that biological evolution could have been part of God's creative act. Their opposition to the coexistence of science and faith is likewise ideologically driven, therefore, despite their sound scientific footing.
Since both fundamentalist groups see science and faith as generally incompatible, the battle is self-reinforcing. Of course, I say this with one caveat: anti-darwinian creationists and dysteleological evolutionists nuance science and religion, respectively, to support their position. To the creationist, science is not intrinsically flawed—only the kind of science that would make counterclaims on topics where God has supposedly spoken (e.g. origin of life/species). Young-Earth Creationists in particular draw a dichotomy (that scientists do not) between operational and historical science, so as to discredit the latter when it seems to contradict their reading of scripture. In this manner, they can still praise the achievements of modern medicine and the space program while denying biological and cosmic evolution. To the uncompromising atheist, religion must narrowly be defined as belief in a god who designed the world as a perfect machine and occasionally interferes with so-called natural law. This is the god of Isaac Newton, William Paley, and the modern Intelligent Design movement, but not necessarily of orthodoxy. Neither evolutionary theory nor science in general can accept these premises, it seems, so the case is closed prematurely for many an atheist.

2. What diversity of opinion exists among scientists on issues that have a religious component?

Dr. Denis Lamoreux, who holds doctoral degrees in dentistry, theology, and evolutionary biology, answered this question thoroughly in his books Evolutionary Creation and I love Jesus and I accept Evolution. He delineates five major positions on origins, including a purely atheistic one called Dysteleological Evolution—god is not there and thus has no part; design and purpose in the universe are delusions.
Among believers, the best known positions are Young-Earth Creationism and Old-Earth (or Progressive) Creationism. In the former, God created all cosmic entities (the heavens and the Earth) and all kinds of life less than 10,000 years ago. Young-Earth Creationists accept that evolution plays a part in the survival of species, allowing populations to adapt to new or changing environments, but they reject evolution as a valid mechanism to produce new kinds (i.e. genus/family) of life. Common descent, the notion that all species derived organically from a common ancestor, is not even a scientific possibility for the Young-Earth Creationist. Also integral to this paradigm is that a major worldwide catastrophe (Noah's Flood) was responsible for reshaping the surface of the planet. Some Young-Earth Creationists try to offer physical evidence from the geological column that a worldwide flood occurred in recent Earth history, but their claims are not taken seriously in academia (and rightly so). Young-Earth Creationism ultimately rests in a particular scriptural hermeneutic (method of interpretation) that involves the "plain, common sense" reading of the text. From a literary critical perspective, this approach (which I call lexical absolutism) is both anachronistic and naïve, since it tends to undermine the Bible as literature and projects a post-Enlightenment mentality onto an ancient text.
Old-Earth Creationism accepts the conclusions of modern geology and astronomy: the Earth is 4.54 billion years old and various species have lived and died on the planet throughout its history. Rejecting macroevolutionary theory and common descent, however, they assert that God created life progressively—an act recorded by the fossil record. In the United States, this position is most actively promoted by the very successful ministry Reasons to Believe, but some of the ministry's attacks on evolutionary biology have been harshly criticized and even deemed disingenuous by fellow Christians. Nonetheless, Old-Earth Creationism has seen growing popularity among Christians in the past few decades and provides a reasonable solution to the science/faith conflict for millions. It's also worth noting that Progressive Creationism is very popular in many Islamic countries, such as Turkey, which boasts the lowest popular acceptance of evolution in the world.
Less known, strangely, is the majority position among scientists: theistic evolution. This paradigm accepts modern evolutionary theory, along with modern geology and astronomy, and sees no fundamental conflict between religion and science. Most theistic evolutionists are not Christians, and many ascribe to no particular religious system. Denis Lamoreux and others thus distinguish between theistic evolution (i.e. god is there, but not necessarily personal and involved with humanity) and evolutionary creation, which upholds Judaeo-Christian theology and anthropology. Theistic evolutionists reject scientific concordism—the idea that scientific conclusions can be drawn from God's revelation in scripture (particularly Genesis). They cite the use of ancient cosmology in scripture, such as references to geocentrism and/or a flat earth, as evidence against scientific concordism. Instead, they argue that God accommodated his message through ancient understandings of science in the same manner that God accommodated himself through sinful flesh in the person of Jesus. To echo the words of Dr. Lamoreux, God's infallible message of faith is captured incidentally within fallible human perceptions of reality.

3. What can religious individuals do if they feel that science is conflicting with their faith? How can they align the two?

Religious individuals that see a conflict between science and their faith should critically examine the origin of that conflict. In my experience, the conflict is more frequently between one faith position and another (e.g. the Bible says A vs. the Bible says B). One should also critically examine whether there is sufficient warrant for drawing a scientific conclusion (e.g. humans could not have a common ancestor with other primates) from a religious text. Is it possible this text was never intended to function in such a manner? If not, how do you determine that? Are you drawing from your academic experience in theology and/or Ancient Near Eastern literature? Unfortunately, the answer falls outside the expertise of most individuals (myself included), but few are willing to admit this.
Secondly, a conflict between faith and science is not necessarily a conflict between faith and reality. Science is not a collection of timeless truths, but an active and dynamic endeavor to understand natural phenomena. On the other hand, the mere fallibility of science is not sufficient reason to reject its major conclusions whenever convenient. Theology and natural science are similarly susceptible to human bias and error. Everyone—yes, even experts—should practice some humility when trying to articulate or critique unifying concepts.
Lastly, I would advise any individual to take advantage of the fact that many scientists and theologians have dealt personally with these conflicts before. One should not take upon him/herself the exhausting task of answering one of life's biggest questions alone, especially without consulting experts on all sides. Although the dichotomy between science and faith will never disappear, most scientists and theologians see it as a false one. Understandably, these individuals receive less attention in the public arena, but we are there, and we love to discuss our passion with others.

Quest for the Primal Couple: ICR's response to Dennis Venema

2011-08-31T17:26:00.000-07:00

Genetics is a topic I have avoided here for one simple reason: I am not a geneticist.* But I could not help but to comment on some of the recent reactions to an article by Dennis Venema and Darrel Falk, entitled Does Genetics Point to a Single Primal Couple?. The Biologos authors argued therein that data from modern genetics do not corroborate the traditional biblical postulate of a single, primal couple (i.e. Adam and Eve) who gave rise to the world's population. National Public Radio (NPR) followed up on the controversy, citing Dr. Venema from an interview. Responses from various evangelical camps have been predictably adamant, and while some tried to focus on a scientific response, others—the focus of my post today—skewed the scientific data and questioned Dr. Venema's motives.

By way of preface, I am aware that many of you side against Biologos on this topic, and would prefer that I stick to geological issues. So I want to be clear that my aim is not to persuade you otherwise, necessarily, but simply to promote critical discussion (to the exclusion of some fruitless arguments). Since a firm position on the historical Adam is so treasured by many, it is vital to maintain fairness all around.

Does genetics point to a single primal couple?

Although Drs. Venema and Falk reject the historicity of Adam and Eve** on biblical and scientific grounds, the purpose of their article was not to wrestle exhaustively with that evidence. From what I gathered, the article could be summarized quite simply:

The existence of a primal couple can be discussed apart from the question of common descent (i.e. human evolution). Christians are not the only ones interested in the original population size of the human race, and geneticists have devised several independent methods by which to estimate that number. Three of those methods (discussed here) point to a population bottleneck in human history, but of several thousands individuals—not two. The existing genetic data, therefore, do not corroborate the traditional biblical picture. Any model that presupposes that picture must account for this evidence.

It would be misleading, therefore, to claim 1) anything from this article about the authors' motives or presuppositions with respect to human evolution; 2) that the authors rest arbitrarily on 'evolutionary assumptions' and ruled out a priori the existence of Adam/Eve; and 3) most importantly, that a refutation of this article lends positive support to the historical Adam/Eve.

ICR skirts the issue, adds to the clamor

At the risk of exposing my bias, I want to reiterate that I highly appreciate the clarity and cordiality with which Dennis Venema (and others at Biologos) have presented their respective positions. As a non-specialist in biology, I have been frustrated by 'experts' on all sides so desperate for concurrence that they overlook pivotal, looming questions from their audience. A recent article by Brian Thomas, entitled Christian Professor Claims Genetics Disproves Historical Adam, exemplified that frustration.

Mr. Thomas begins with a threefold objection to Dr. Venema's claim that genetic evidence falsifies the hypothesis that humans could have derived from a single couple:

"First, it relies on the presumption of "evolutionary history," not scientific data. Second, the idea that an initial group of 10,000 humans evolved from primates is mathematically impossible. Third, a descent from Adam and Eve actually does explain the patterns in modern human genetics."

Seemingly, Mr. Thomas cannot distinguish between scientific data and scientific theories built to explain those data. Nonetheless, it is rather disingenuous to dismiss an argument just because the data on which it rests require some interpretation. To be consistent, we would then have to reject every scientific argument. Lastly, Dr. Venema's case is not without assumptions, but "evolutionary history" is not one of them, as we shall see.

"Shouldn't such a person at least attempt to examine the genetic possibility of an Adamic ancestry before completely ruling it out?"

Caricatures are never helpful. Not merely because they are false, but also because they provoke hostile emotions without warrant. If Mr. Thomas had so much as clicked Dennis Venema's name at the top of the Biologos article (which I'm not sure he read), he would have found the 5-part series entitled From Intelligent Design to BioLogos. It is very misleading to claim that Dr. Venema has never considered "genetic possibility of an Adamic ancestry".

Method I – Can total genetic diversity arise from a single pair in ~6,000 years?

The first method cited by Venema and Falk considered the origin of genetic diversity in the modern human population. They explain:

"First we ask how many different alleles there are for a number of genes within the current population. Correcting for the rate at which we know new forms of genes appear (mutation), we can calculate the minimum number of people needed to generate the current amount of diversity."

To which Dr. Venema added in the NPR interview:

"You would have to postulate that there's been this absolutely astronomical mutation rate that has produced all these new variants in an incredibly short period of time."

But Mr. Thomas responds by appealing to a false premise:

"Evolutionists assume that all genetic differences between individuals resulted from mutations...But if Adam was created with DNA variations, then one would not have to postulate astronomical mutation rates."

They assume that all genetic differences result from mutation? I don't think this is accurate. Regardless, I wonder what kind of DNA variations Mr. Thomas envisions within Adam's genome. As the Biologos article explained:

"At maximum, four gene-forms (two from each parent) would be passed on by Adam and Eve."

An individual genome cannot carry more than two forms of any gene, meaning that the maximum 'created' diversity would entail complete heterozygosity in each parent. Since the Biologos article stated this fact at the outset, Mr. Thomas's argument is again without foundation.

A more quantitative response came from Dr. Robert Carter at Creation Ministries International (CMI), who argued that directly measured rates of mutation are much higher than those measured indirectly by comparing the human and chimpanzee genomes. Mr. Thomas seems to have based much of his critique on the CMI article, with investigating further. Dr. Carter writes, for example, that:

"The mutation rates used in the calculations generally depend on assumptions of common ancestry...Measurable mutation rates are generally several orders of magnitude faster than those used in evolutionary studies. Using a measured rate would shrink the size of the bottleneck population." (emphasis added)

Using a higher mutation rate to estimate the original human population would indeed reduce the size of that population—on this point, everyone agrees. But Dr. Carter does not cite any studies where mutation rates in the human genome vary by several orders of magnitude, depending on the technique. So I decided to investigate. My brief search yielded a highly collaborative paper by Conrad et al. (2011) in Nature Geoscience, which reported "the first direct comparative analysis of male and female germline mutation rates from the complete genome sequences of two parent-offspring trios":

"The sex-averaged germline mutation rate estimates we derived agree very closely with three other recent studies focusing on sex-averaged mutation rates in the most recent generation. Averaging across these four studies gave a more precise sex-averaged mutation rate of 1.18 × 10−8 [per base pair]...which is less than half of the frequently cited sex-averaged mutation rate derived from the human-chimpanzee sequence divergence of 2.5 × 10−8. These apparently discordant estimates can be largely reconciled if the age of the human-chimpanzee divergence is pushed back to 7 million years, as suggested by some interpretations of recent fossil finds..."

Mutation rates can be measured directly by comparing parent and offspring genomes (as in this study) or by dividing the number of genetic variations between species by the estimated years since their last common ancestor. Based on the references cited within the article, previous estimates of human germline (i.e. passed on through reproduction) mutation rates varied by a factor of three—not orders of magnitude. Moreover, the uncertainty was due not to conflicting results so much as pricy technology and limited data, as well as variable estimates for the last common ancestor between humans and chimpanzees (4–7 million years).

Drs. Venema and Falk did not rely on "evolutionary assumptions" therefore, since measured mutation rates are comparable to, if not lower than, those estimated from the postulated timeline of human evolution. As far as I can tell, Dr. Venema's original point still stands: our current understanding of genetics suggests that the original human population was much larger than two, and lived much longer ago than ICR would have us believe.

Fuzzy population genetics?

The second objection made by Mr. Thomas seems to be rooted in a complete misunderstanding of population genetics and evolution. He argues that it would be "mathematically impossible" for a population of 10,000 humans to have "evolved from primates". Since humans are themselves primates, I believe the problem is also rhetorical, and question whether Mr. Thomas has an accurate view of human evolution.

For one, the several thousand individuals being discussed constitute a bottleneck in human history—not an original population that somehow received "human-like mutations", as Mr. Thomas puts it:

"About 700 million information-packed DNA differences exist...between humans and chimpanzees. Each of these changes would need to become "fixed" into the whole population of primates in order to transform them into humans."

Are each of these DNA differences truly "information-packed"? Many of them are neutral point mutations, found in pseudogenes or genetic redundancies. Before I address the issue of "transforming" humans, consider the following hypothetical:

"But even if a single human-like mutation fortuitously occurred in both members of a reproducing pair, it would have virtually no chance of spreading to all 10,000 "emerging" humans. Instead, through interbreeding with non-mutants, the mutation would diffuse and disappear after only a few generations."

The functional genetic signatures unique to humans are supposed to have arisen through a rather active force called natural selection—not the "fortuitous" insertion to and diffusion throughout the entire hominid population. Furthermore, it is strange to refer to 'mutants' and 'non-mutants'. Every human offspring contains several dozen mutations not found in their parents. We are all mutants! As long as any population survives with time, there will be thousands to millions of mutations that define the genetic diversity of that population. The extent and nature of that diversity give clues as to how large and diverse that population was in history.

Lastly, genetic drift is sufficient to explain the sporadic introduction of new alleles (arising through mutation) into a large population of early humans. Conversely, the chance disappearance of alleles through genetic drift is only exacerbated by inbreeding that would necessarily occur following a 2-person or 8-person bottleneck (Adam and Noah, respectively).

Adding 'biblical' parameters

The final objection offered by Mr. Thomas can almost be termed a tautology. He assures his readers that assuming biblical parameters, modern genetic data really are consistent with the young-Earth picture. But adding no relevant information, his argument appears rather to be an appeal to his starting position. He begins by citing that "all people are 99 percent genetically similar"—a fact never disputed by either party but seemingly intended to make genetic variation in humans appear small. Consider that when citing the differences between human and chimpanzees, he used an absolute number instead: 700 million. He continues:

"For example, any Vietnamese is 99 percent genetically identical to any Ethiopian. Of the one percent DNA sequence difference between the two, the large majority is shared by all within their ethnic group, whether Vietnamese or Ethiopian. A small minority of that one percent is unique to each individual person."

As I recall, the genetic variation within human subpopulations can exceed that between individuals of different ethnic groups (making categories of 'race' a cloudy topic in biology). It may range from ~98% to nearly 100%—but what does this add to the discussion? The fact remains that total genetic diversity in humans, even if limited to variations that necessarily arose from mutations, cannot be accounted for by a single couple living less than 10,000 years ago.

Mr. Thomas concludes by promoting the working model of Dr. Robert Carter at CMI, which, although novel and possibly deserving of our consideration, is not without serious challenges and is hardly conclusive. Perhaps I have missed something important, but the assessment offered by ICR regarding the historical Adam controversy seems to be premature at best, and misleading at worst. I pray that discussion might continue with more substance and integrity for the sake of all non-experts at the mercy of respectable Christians in the biological sciences.

*I am not an expert in genetics, but I know a few. So I am deferring partly to their expertise and input, which I highly appreciate!
**As a specially created couple from which all humans today could trace their lineage.

News to share: ancient buried landscape in the North Atlantic

2011-08-24T13:29:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered why sedimentary rock layers all seem so flat? Either you have visited places like the Grand Canyon, or you have seen the pictures: relatively flat geological strata extend for miles in every direction. Yet when we look at the Earth's surface today, we find canyons, river beds, drainage basins, and more. What's the deal?

I've heard the argument several times that such flat layers in the geological record are evidence that a singular, worldwide catastrophe was responsible for their deposition. If each of these layers represents several thousands or millions of years, shouldn't we find more topography?

This argument sounds feasible on the surface, because it appeals to common experience. From a geologist's perspective, however, the question is rather misguided. While it is true that the Earth's surface is very rough, sedimentary basins (i.e. where sediments are actually being deposited) are typically very flat and smooth. If you would like to explore this topic, GoogleEarth is a wonderful tool. Take a look, for example, at the Gulf of Mexico and the coastline of the southeastern United States. Silt, sand, and carbonate are accumulating as we speak, actively forming a new sedimentary layer along the continental shelf. The continental shelf (light blue) is a relatively flat surface that extends for miles and miles out into the ocean.

If sea level were to drop a few hundred meters, and a river (the Mississippi?) carved a canyon into the newly exposed shelf, how would it look? Well, very much like the Grand Canyon! You would find flat layers of sediment/rock extending for miles in every direction. So the 'flatness' of geological strata is entirely consistent with the conventional picture of Earth history.

More examples can be found from around the world. Every major river valley (Mississippi, Volga, Nile, Mesopotamian, etc.) is extremely flat in places where deposition actually occurs—i.e. the floodplain, where the river starts to meander and produces regular floods. Coastlines, as they build out into the ocean, also produce extensive, horizontal layers. Alluvial and rift basins (Great Basin, Death Valley, etc.) are also very flat, despite the high topography surrounding them. Even deserts, when inundated by the ocean, are preserved as extensive, horizontal layers.

I should be careful how I use the term flat here, because I don't want to be disingenuous. Every example I cited contains some topography, such as river channels and the like. But these features are also common in the geological record. Channel cuts, karst topography, and even small caves and canyons make regular appearances in geological strata. When you look close enough, no geological layer is truly 'flat'.

So what about the rest of Earth's surface—the mountains and canyons that attract hikers, bikers, and rafters from around the world? Did they all disappear from history? Well, in a sense, yes—they did. Large-scale topography only forms in places where erosion is actively occurring. The Grand Staircase (including Grand, Zion, and Bryce canyons), for example, is a product of erosion, and when erosion is removing sediment, the topographical features will not be preserved.

For something like Grand Canyon to be preserved in the geological record, sea level would have to rise at such a rate that the landscape would not flatten out before it became a coastal river plain—a very unlikely situation. If you are skeptical about this process, consider the California coast. Although it is very rocky, wave action is currently 'smoothing' out the landscape rather than burying it for preservation.

A counterexample from the North Atlantic

Some parts of the Earth have changed rapidly enough for ancient topography to have been preserved in the geological record. The North Atlantic is the site of an active spreading zone (Mid-Ocean Ridge) as well as a mantle 'plume' or 'hot spot' (currently fueling Icelandic volcanoes). Heat from this spreading center was sufficient in the early Cenozoic, around the Paleocene-Eocene boundary, to cause an ancient landscape (pictured below) to be rapidly inundated by water and covered with sediment. The ancient river drainage basin is now buried beneath a kilometer of marine sediments.

The landscape was discovered by seismic survey, and reported earlier this summer in Nature Geoscience (article here*). For those unfamiliar, seismic exploration works much like an ultrasound: sound waves are bounced back from the subsurface when a change in rock type occurs. Hundreds of seismic lines (seen in Figure a) are pieced together to reveal a 3D surface (Figure c).

I need not comment further here—the picture really does speak for itself!

*Special thanks to A.H.-R. for bringing this article to my attention.

What have I been reading?

2011-08-17T21:15:00.000-07:00

So far, 2011 has been one my more 'productive' years in terms of reading. For anyone curious (myself included), I thought I would share a list of the books that I am reading now, have read in the past year or so, and plan to read by the end of the year. I was partly inspired by Man vs. Book (a must watch) to do so. Thanks Bryan!

As an aside, you will notice a lot of works by N.T. Wright. At the beginning of the year, I read one of his books and swiftly decided that I need to understand thoroughly how his mind works if I am to continue in biblical studies. I have not yet been disappointed. For those that might have reservations about Wright (coming from a Reformed background, I understand those reservations), I will add that one need not agree with everything Wright says to appreciate the contributions of this brilliant thinker.

I have added a short synopsis to each with my personal recommendation. Feel free to interact or add your own suggestions in the comments!

I am currently reading...

Saving Darwin: How to be a Christian and believe in evolution, by Karl Giberson (2008, 256 p.)
Karl Giberson, a physicist well known for his contributions to the science-faith dialogue (particularly at Biologos), sets out to positively construct a Christian worldview in which evolution (cosmic, geological, and biological) is the primary creative force in God's providence, and not interventionist, de novo creation. Simultaneously, he defends the historical Darwin as one who was raised in—and enthralled by—the natural theology paradigm explicated by Paley (i.e. intelligent design), but then wrestled deeply with both theological and scientific questions as counter-evidence mounted. Darwin ultimately found himself overwhelmed by the challenge of theodicy, and was deeply hurt in the way that his theory had touched on the well being of the church. His theory was not constructed, therefore, to justify an abandonment of natural theology or Christianity.
Giberson's autobiographical sketch sounds very similar to my own, and—presumably—to much of his audience's. I highly appreciate the respectful demeanor in which he approaches the developers of flood geology and creationism. Giberson is a very skilled writer, and obviously passionate not only about science, history, and theology, but about his audience. This book is a must read for anyone seriously interested in the origins debate today.
Recommended? Absolutely

Farewell to the Yahwist?: The Composition of the Pentateuch in Recent European Interpretation, by Thomas Dozeman and Konrad Schmid (2006, 208 p.)
This book contains a collection of writings from European scholars in higher criticism. Contrary to the classic Wellhausen hypothesis (JEDP), more recent scholarship denies the existence of a continuous salvation history (Creation to Moses/Joshua; i.e. the Yahwist source) before the arrival of the 'Priestly' text (P). The individual patriarchal stories (Abrahaam, Jacob, Joseph) and the Exodus story are said, therefore, to have stood alone before the creative mending of P. Evidences cited are the nature of the Jacob story as a rival origins legend to the Mosaic/Exodus one, the contrasting of Jacob/Moses in Hosea 12, the rough literary transition from Genesis to Exodus, and a possible redactional link in Genesis 50:14 that puts Joseph back into Egypt with a single sentence, thereby 'setting the stage' for a second Exodus.
According to these authors, the classic formulation of the Documentary Hypothesis saw its end in the 1970's (despite its continuance in American schools). In fact, the they do not even bother with the so-called 'Elohist' source, which they perceive as a weak hypothesis that has already run its course. Left standing, however, were the hexateuchal 'non-Priestly' (J) narratives, which earlier scholars perceived as a first Torah (Tetrateuch or Hexateuch, depending) to which E and P responded. But can the non-Priestly text be seen as a unified collection of stories that ran from Adam to Joshua? Not according to this compilation, which argues that it is finally time to bid farewell to the Yawhist properly.
If you are studying higher criticism of the Hebrew Bible, this book is a must (and available for free on GoogleBooks). If everything I've said above sounds completely foreign to you, however, I would urge some caution. There is a complex history of research behind this book—not just literary but theological. I recommend reading Richard Friedman's Who Wrote the Bible? (see below) before this one. Also, this book will likely challenge your view of scripture (even if you disagree with its premises and conclusions). You will start to think like a literary/textual critic and may find it hard to recover. On the other hand, reading this book has been an excellent exercise in understanding the literary relationship of Pentateuchal narratives and challenged me to think harder about them. If you despise higher critical studies altogether, then you may at least enjoy this cautionary note by one author: "In the absence of material evidence and of Carbon-14 dates, anything is conceivable in biblical exegesis." (p. 61)
Recommended? Not for the faint-hearted; requires some background study.

The Last Word: Scripture and the Authority of God--Getting Beyond the Bible Wars, by N.T. Wright (2006, 160 p.)
All Christians hold the Bible to be authoritative, but how this plays out in practice (both within the church and in culture) depends on varied and nuanced understandings of the biblical text. Wright notes that the Bible is not simply a book of laws and doctrines (though it contains both), but a grand story with many parts. To call upon the authority of the Bible (especially in culture and politics) thus requires one to answer the deceptively deep question: 'How can a story be authoritative?'
I have not read far enough to tell you whether Wright delivers on this point as promised. But so far, he has been able to formulate the problem with discernment and determination, all the while displaying a heightened intellectual awareness and ecumenical sensitivity. I expect not to be disappointed, and at only 160 pages, it won't take long to find out!
Recommended? So far, so good.

What I have finished reading...

Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul, by Richard Hays (1989, 254 p.)
This book has forever changed the way in which I will read and study any piece of literature—the Bible most of all. Hays' classic work on intertextuality and thematic allusion opened a whole new world of biblical studies, into which surprisingly few evangelicals have ventured, but from which none will return. Beginning with the most prolific New Testament author, Hays carefully and masterfully unravels the hidden dialogue between Paul and the holy texts of Israel, which Paul personified and called: Scripture. For Paul, Scripture was not a rigid collection of words on the page—a mere artifact of Israel's past—, but a living entity that now spoke to the Israel of God, reconstituted around Messiah (e.g. 1 Cor. 10:11).
For those less interested in literary analysis, Hays' work also delves deeply into the question of how NT authors use OT passages. Since Hays moves beyond cases of explicit citation alone, he is able to add a thoughtful and necessary dimension to this complicated debate and find resolution. Everyone can benefit from his discussion, but especially those frustrated by the flat-footed formulae of Messianic 'proof-texting'.
If you do pick up this book, be prepared: Hays is a master of language, and so writes 254 of the longest pages you may ever read—not a word is wasted. Also, make sure to carry a Bible alongside, because the book assumes you have it open.
Recommended? A must read for all

Jesus and the Victory of God, by N.T. Wright (1997, 741 p.)
The second volume in his scholarly series on Christian Origins and the Question of God, Wright deals with the historical, political, theological, and psychological questions surrounding Jesus, including his aims and beliefs. Who did Jesus think he was? What did he think he was doing? What did he expect was going to happen? Partly in response to the Jesus Seminar and other historical critical scholarship from the past century, Wright argues that the Jesus of scripture (apocalyptic elements and all) in fact fits nicely into the eschatological milieu of 1st century Judaism in Palestine. Moreover, the Jesus of history (as explicated by the synoptic gospels) perfectly explains the otherwise problematic transition from 1st century B.C.E Judaism to 2nd century A.D. Christianity and Judaism.
Wright further frames the teachings (parables, sermons, etc.) of Jesus in their proper cultural, historical, and canonical context, so as to identify the invitation, challenge, welcome, and summons of Jesus to his followers and to the leaders of Jerusalem. His deeply rooted insight to the gospel narratives is constructive at every turn, and will leave your picture of Jesus' world much bigger than you imagined.
This book is straightforward, and can be understood by most. But it also assumes many premises that were argued in volume one of the series (NT&PG, see below). For any serious student, they should be read in order. Moreover, at 741 pages (including preface/appendices), this book is a long-term commitment, but worth the wait, in my opinion.
Lastly, some may be put off by Wright's 'critical-realist' approach. But keep in mind that he is writing to several audiences at once: academic colleagues, skeptics, liberal and fundamentalist historians/theologians, and both the amateur and serious student of Christianity. To engage in meaningful discourse with the first, he plays by their rules. Consequently, this book is not simply a pious or devotional discourse on Jesus, but the discerned reader will be able to find such value among it. Also, the book is entirely fitting for Christian and non-Christian alike.
Recommended? Absolutely...and Godspeed if you do!

I love Jesus, and I accept evolution, by Denis Lamoreux (2006, 184 p.)
Denis Lamoreux, who holds doctoral degrees in dentistry, theology, and evolutionary biology, searches not only for harmony between the world of scripture and of science, but active dialogue. A former young-Earth creationist, Dr. Lamoreux is extremely sensitive to his variegated audience, and articulates the young-Earth position faithfully. As the title indicates, his message is deeply personal, and directed to those struggling with their faith because of the challenge of evolution. He begins with a young boy that asked at a creationist conference: 'How do dinosaurs fit into the Bible?' After chronicling his own journey from young-Earth creationism to atheism to what he now terms evolutionary creationism, he ends with a simple answer to the boy's curiosity: they don't.
In this book (which is, in some sense, a condensed version of his more scholarly work Evolutionary Creation), Dr. Lamoreux articulates a hermeneutic that is becoming increasingly popular, which he calls the Message of Faith-Incident Principle. He argues that the inerrant Message of Faith has been revealed to us in the incidental vessels of ancient science. As such, the authors of scripture do not explicitly teach false facts about the universe, but work within the 'science of their day' so that the message is tangible and firmly understood. Moreover, the Bible can be said to be inerrant in the message it actually 'intends' to convey.
Lamoreux's hermeneutic stands in opposition to scientific concordism, which seeks to show that the Bible accurately describes scientific facts. He offers one of the more compelling cases, I believe, against concordism of any kind. On the other hand, his labeling of certain concepts as 'ancient science' may appear repetitive and reductionistic to some. Though my challenge constitutes an informal logical fallacy, I think Dr. Lamoreux's position is shaky without well defined boundaries. For example, can we dismiss the historicity of the patriarchs by saying the biblical authors relied mistaken, 'ancient' versions of history? That question aside, this book is well thought out and offers a healthy challenge to all by one who is deeply passionate about the gospel and the church.
And science, of course!
Recommended? Yes; particularly to YECs, or those who have wavered in faith because of YECism

Already Compromised, by Ken Ham and Greg Hall (2011, 236 p.)
See my 3-part review of this book in previous posts to get my complete thoughts. This book was an easy read that offered insight to the young-Earth mindset, and is available for only a few dollars.
Recommended? Maybe...

Paul for Everyone: Galatians and Thessalonians, by N.T. Wright (2004, 178 p.)
Part of Wright's New Testament for Everyone series, this book lives up to its name. Again, one need not agree with Wright to gather valuable insight from this condensed commentary. Wright adds a personal touch to this letter of Paul, never abandoning the nature of the original text: a real letter to a real people in a real time and place. Why does Paul raise the issues that he does? Why does he have to defend his reputation? Where other commentaries treat the letters of Paul as treatises on systematic theology, this well written reflection successfully transplants the reader into Paul's world and his mission: a deeply personal, practical theology that is rooted in the cross.
Recommended? For everyone

The Psalms: Book IV
Psalms 90–106 comprise what is called Book IV of the collection. I mention it here in part to recommend you reading it as a literary unit, and in light of Paul's use of the text in Romans 1. Beginning and ending with Moses, these Psalms wrestle with the theodicic challenge of exile, calling an injured Israel to faithfulness by remembering her origins.
In Romans 1:20–23, Paul writes: "For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes...have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse. For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks...Professing to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed animals and crawling creatures."
How often have you heard this passage cited simply in the context of natural theology? Though Paul is writing to an audience immersed in a city idolatry and wickedness (i.e. Rome), he structures his cultural critique in terms of Israel's unfaithfulness in the wilderness. To see what I mean, read Psalm 106 (especially v. 20). Israel knew God by what He had done for them (or 'made'—same verb) since the creation of the world (from Genesis 1 to that point in Exodus; or Psalm 90 to 106:12). But Israel gave honor "to demons and not to God", as Deuteronomy puts it, and "exchanged his glory for the image of a four-footed animal" (Ps. 106:20).
From the rest of the letter to the Romans, there is no doubt that Paul envisions the Christian experience as a sort of 'personal Exodus'. Paul thus warns believers that they are not immune to the temptation of idolatry because of their covenant status. But he guards against that temptation in an appeal to their knowledge of God's glory in and through their own Exodus, wherein Christ has freed them from bondage to the law (whether Torah or the 'law to themselves'). At the end of their trial is an inheritance, indescribable, but identified as new creation (Romans 8).
Recommended? Divinely so

Global Geomorphology, by M.A. Summerfield (1991, 560 p.)
Yes, I do read about rocks (though mostly in articles rather than books). In any case, I decided to reread this book to brush up on how the surface of the Earth is shaped. It serves as a thorough, but simple introduction to process geomorphology, in which landscapes and weathering features are described in terms of the geologic process that created them (over against the idealistic concepts of William Morris Davis).
Recommended? Well written; great for the intermediate geology student

Russian Graded Readers 1-5, by George V. Bobrinskoy and Otto Ferdinand Bond (1961)
Perfect for the beginning student of Russian, or the intermediate student that wishes to brush up on some vocabulary and literary colloquialisms. The reader may also familiarize him/herself with well known Russian stories. The authors take several Russian classics—Lermontov, Gogol, Pushkin, and others—and abridges them in elementary Russian. New vocabulary is listed at the bottom of each page with the English meaning. I have yet to find a more efficient 'Russian reader' than this 50-year-old work.
Recommended? Если Вы изучаете русский язык, читаете эту книгу!

Noah's Ark and the Ziusudra Epic: Sumerian Origins of the Flood Myth, by Robert Best (1999)
An adventurous tale, to say the least. Mr. Best draws from his exhaustive personal study of Sumeriology and history to construct a scenario that could best explain the various flood accounts: Atrahasis, Ziusudra Epic, Epic of Gilgamesh, Moses of Khoren, and Genesis 6–9. He considers the textual transmission of the text, including the literary interdependence between some accounts, to unravel the legend from the myth. See his website for more details.
Best's methodology does not appear to be well received in academia, who might wish to see more falsifiable aspects to such a hypothesis. Best does not try to prove or disprove the story of Noah, however, but rather to construct the most likely scenario if indeed the texts derived from an eyewitness account. If you're interested in the question of the historical Noah, you'll find value in this book, which I came across shortly after I finished my own articles on the same. At some points, Best ventures too far beyond the evidence, and lends too much credence to the factual details of each story (even Genesis). Trying to separate myth from history is a dangerous exercise, and typically undermines both. But his work is not without valuable contribution. His discussion on the genealogy of Genesis 5, for example, is perhaps the most thoughtful and convincing I have come across.
Recommended? A healthy thought experiment, but for a limited audience

Chemical Cycles in the Evolution of the Earth, by C. Bryan Gregor, Robert M. Garrels, Fred T. Mackenzie, and J. Barry Maynard (1988, 288 p.)
A classic text on geochemical cycles and the 'big-picture' problems facing geochemists in the late 80's. Also a useful reference for any geochemist today, since it contains some of the most recent (and best) estimates on elemental fluxes in major Earth processes.
Recommended? Hmm...

The Chickens are Restless, by Gary Larson (1993, 112 p.)
Everyone needs a break. For me, The Far Side is nostalgic.
Recommended? Only if you enjoy a laugh

Environmental Isotopes in Hydrogeology, by Ian Clark and Peter Fritz (1997, 352 p.)
A focused study on the application of isotopes to ground and surface water systems. Very clear, well referenced book that goes beyond introductory texts on stable and radiogenic isotope studies. Works well as a companion text to those already studying isotope geology, or alone for climatologists and hydrogeologists wishing to expand their methodology. On the other hand, this book overlaps a bit with more generalized works, so you may want to save some money checking it out of the library instead.
Recommended? For a very specialized audience

Inspiration and Incarnation: Evangelicals and the Problem of the Old Testament, by Peter Enns (2005, 208 p.)
After Ken Ham's debacle with the homeschool convention, I figured I had to find out who Peter Enns was. If you have never read anything by Enns, this is probably not the best place to start. He is a brilliant thinker that will continue to add much to Old Testament studies. But I&I is fairly nuanced and assumes you are already familiar with the background discussion. I've mentioned before on this blog: it's not so much what Peter Enns says as how he says it that raises flags among evangelicals. He is bold and blunt. Proceed with caution. But if you are able to grasp Enns' message in this book, it will serve you well in your biblical studies pursuits.
Recommended? Eat your veggies first

Isotopes: Principles and Applications, by Gunter Faure and Teresa Mensing (2004, 928 p.)
I won't bore you with details: this the standard text for isotope geochemists. Expanded from Faure's earlier work, this book covers everything from cosmic evolution and planetary geology to radiometric dating to magmatic systems and more.
Recommended? If you like counting neutrons, this book is for you!

Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament: Introducing the Conceptual World of the Hebrew Bible, by John H. Walton (2006, 368 p.)
Wow. One can get lost in ancient near eastern studies—it is a big world. Walton may only scratch the surface in this book, which makes good use of comparative cultural and literary studies, but he scratches all the right places. For those with reservations about using ancient literature to elaborate the meaning behind the biblical text, I can sympathize. But a careful reading of Walton's work will calm your doubts, and preserve the grandeur of scripture in the otherwise chaotic, literary world of the Ancient Near East.
Recommended? Deep reading, requires some commitment, but worth it

Principles and Applications of Geochemistry, by Gunter Faure (1998, 625 p.)
Originally published more than a decade prior, Gunter Faure remains authoritative on all things geochemistry. Well written and easy to understand. Suitable for aspiring petrologists, geochronologists, sedimentologists, climatologists, and even hydrogeologists. Also works as a great reference for later research.
Recommended? If you ever had to draw a phase diagram from scratch, and actually enjoyed it, then this book is for you!

New Testament and the People of God, by N.T. Wright (1992, 535 p.)
Any brief synopsis will hardly do justice to this classic text on New Testament studies. Wright lays out his historiography and methodology in detail, interacting with historians and theologians from the past centuries. He defines his 'critical realist' approach, and applies it faithfully to the biblical text. Who were the people of God, according to both Jewish and Christian thought from the 1st century? What were their symbols, praxis, and beliefs?
Wright begins with a seemingly simple question: "What do we do with the wicked tenants?" How do we understand parables, and apply them properly? Who was Jesus critiquing in this odd tale and why? Are cultural and historical studies any help? As it turns out, the pursuit is almost more instructive than the answer itself.
Recommended? You won't be disappointed

Principles of Stable Isotope Geochemistry, by Zachary Sharp (2006, 360 p.)
A clear and concise treatise on the applications of stable isotopes (i.e. not radioactive or produced from radioactivity) to geological problems, ranging from sedimentary geochemistry to meteoric cycles and diagenesis to paleothermometers. Instructive and informative; a great reference too!
Recommended? Okay, it's a textbook...but it reads like an adventure novel (almost)!

Elements of Petroleum Geology, by Richard Selley (1997, 470 p.)
An exhaustive overview of the theory behind finding conventional hydrocarbon resources. Includes sections on geophysical techniques (and how to interpret them), drill and rig architecture, and the future of non-conventional exploration methods.
Recommended? Not quite on the popular level, but a very practical text

Petroleum Geology (Developments in Petroleum Science), by R.E. Chapman (1983, 434 p.)
Fascinating to see how petroleum exploration was developing alongside technology. Otherwise, the text is superfluous to more recent contributions.
Recommended? Useful for understanding the history of petroleum geology

Who Wrote the Bible?, by Richard Elliot Friedman (1997, 304 p.)
A well written introduction to and overview of the documentary hypothesis and its developments since Wellhausen. Friedman's approach is respectful to the nature of the text, and departs with past scholars on several points (e.g. he rejects charges of 'pietistic fraud', and very late dates for the authorship of J, E, and especially P). He argues that P was constructed while the first temple yet stood, for example, rather than during or after the Babylonian exile.
If you like studying the debate surrounding the authorship of the Pentateuch, this is a scholarly book that is accessible to the public, and therefore a must read. If you disagree with the premises and conclusions of higher criticism, you will still find some value in this book, if nothing else by understanding the evidence raised against traditional paradigms.
Recommended? Yes, but with caution to those unfamiliar with the topic

Paul in Fresh Perspective, by N.T. Wright (2009, 195 p.)
A fascinating, concise discussion on the biblical texts that define Paul's mission and teachings. For those with reservations, this book is not an explication or defense of the New Perspective. Rather, it unfolds Paul's worldview and shows how Paul can use Hebrew scripture and Roman political culture to explain who Jesus Messiah is, as well as the mission of the church. Everyone can benefit from the discussion.
Recommended? Don't engage in NT studies without it

Кот в Шляпе, by Доктор Сьюз
A Russian translation of the childhood classic "Cat in the Hat". This was a Christmas present that I thoroughly enjoyed. The translation is very colloquial and difficult to grasp, but that's not a bad thing for someone who wants to learn Russian as Russians speak it!
Recommended? Да!

Why Evolution is True, by Jerry Coyne (2010, 304 p.)
The title says it all. Coyne, an evolutionary geneticist at the University of Chicago, presents his best case for modern evolutionary theory. The book flows very well and is accessible to the non-biologist. On the other hand, Coyne interposes rhetorical jabs at proponents of intelligent design and creationism between the lines without really engaging in their arguments. Granted, I don't think Coyne believes their arguments are worth refuting, but that would only make his style less appropriate. Moreover, if you are familiar with the origins debate or have a background in biology, then you have very likely heard 90%+ of his arguments already. Most of it can be found online for free—sometimes even without the tiring rhetoric (and if you enjoy his rhetoric, check out his blog instead). This is a good book that could have been great with a dose of humility and compassion.
Recommended? Save your money; buy a latté instead and skim over the book at Barnes and Noble

The Greatest Show on Earth, by Richard Dawkins (2009, 480 p.)
Dawkins presents the beauty of evolution within a paradigm that makes a mockery of beauty. Many of my critiques of this book are the same as for Coyne's, but Dawkins goes a step further. He devotes an entire chapter to why you're an idiot for rejecting evidence from radiometric dating. Then he demonstrates his utter lack of knowledge regarding geology and isotopic systems. Great job! If it weren't for the color photos in the middle of the book, I would have probably stopped reading in chapter 3. But I had to see those photos...they were beautiful.
On the other hand, this book contains useful information on biological evolution, and how to present it with passion and excitement. Christian biologists should take a note here, and find the means to discuss evolution as a beautiful theory. Evolution may have replaced the natural theology of Paley et al., but it did not replace God's glory in nature.
Recommended? You gotta see those pictures!

Oxford Russian Grammar And Verbs, by Terence Wade (2002, 256 p.)
That's right, I read a book on grammar. Of course, it also works as a great reference. Well structured and informative. But what do you expect? It's Oxford!
Recommended? Why not?

The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient Cosmology and the Origins Debate, by John H. Walton (2009, 192 p.)
I would defer you to part 3 of my review of Already Compromised to get my thoughts on this book. Walton recovers the lost world in which Genesis was written, and simultaneously takes the text seriously as God's word. Careful readers from all perspectives of the origins debate should be able to gain from this book.
Recommended? Highly

A Biblical Case for an Old Earth, by David Snoke (2006, 224 p.)
Snoke does a decent job in detailing the classic reasons (biblical and scientific) for rejecting a literalistic, young-Earth reading of Genesis. I was less impressed, however, by the positive construction he offers in its place. Nonetheless, a good exercise in biblical studies that broadened my thinking.
Recommended? Somewhere down the line

It's Still Greek to Me: An Easy-to-Understand Guide to Intermediate Greek, by David Alan Black (1993, 192 p.)
If you've studied either Classical or Koiné Greek, then you probably reached a breaking point at one time. When will it end? I highly recommend this profound, and sometimes humorous work to rejuvenate your spirits. You will remember that Koiné Greek was an actual language once spoken to express deep thoughts and emotions, and not simply a form of punishment for M.Div. candidates.
Recommended? On the library of every student of biblical Greek

The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief, by Francis S. Collins (2007, 294 p.)
I picked up this book after seeing Collins on the Colbert Report, mostly to understand the goals and results of the Human Genome Project. It did answer my questions, mostly, but not in the detail I expected. Collins spends a lot of time relaying past arguments by C.S. Lewis and others for the existence of God, and explaining how one reconciles Christianity with an old earth in which life evolves. Not bad for an introduction to the origins debate; excellent if you want to know who Francis Collins is. But in the end, this book mostly offers small portions on a very large plate.
Recommended? A good value

Radiocarbon dating, by Willard Libby (1952)
The classic text on the radiocarbon (C-14) dating method. Willard Libby is a brilliant scientist, whose work was seminal for many scientific disciplines.
Recommended? For the technical audience that enjoys stepping inside the mind of a genius

What's next on the list?

Resurrection of the Son of God, by N.T. Wright (2003)

Russian Stories: A Dual-Language Book, by Gleb Struve (1990)

Justification: God's Plan & Paul's Vision, by N.T. Wright (2009)

Finding Darwin's God: A Scientist's Search for Common Ground Between God and Evolution, by Kenneth Miller (2007)

Heaven and Earth: Global Warming, the Missing Science, by Ian Plimer (2009)

Berlin Diary: The Journal of a Foreign Correspondent, 1934-1941, by William L. Shirer (2002)

The Age of the Earth, by G. Brent Dalrymple (1994)

Matthew for Everyone, by N.T. Wright (2004)

Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived, by Rob Bell (2011)

The Holy Spirit, by John Owen (2005)

Who Really Wrote the Bible?, by Eyal Rav-Noy and Gil Weinrich (2010)

Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church, by N.T. Wright (2008)

Karst Hydrogeology and Geomorphology, by Derek Ford and Paul Williams (2007)

The Bible Unearthed: Archaeology's New Vision of Ancient Israel and the Origin of Its Sacred Texts, by Neil Asher Silberman and Israel Finkelstein (2002)

Orthodox Dogmatic Theology: A Concise Exposition, by Michael Pomazansky and Seraphim Rose

Introducing Biblical Hebrew, by Allen Ross (2001)

Dispelling a few myths about Steve Austin's cave dissolution model

2011-08-15T01:33:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered how long it takes to dissolve a large cavern out of solid rock? Let's start simple. Perhaps you have visited a cave in the past or on several occasions over the years. If so, then you know that caves are relatively static in terms of human experience. Common sense thus tells you that cave formation should take generations at the least. On the other hand, you may be familiar with the damage caused by sinkholes, which form when the dissolution of calcite (i.e. limestone) causes the ground to become structurally unsound to the point that it collapses. Calcite dissolution must happen at an appreciable rate, therefore, to explain the formation of new sinkholes every year. So, caves form slowly, but not too slow. Can we get any more quantitative than this?

Ideally, yes. One could preface the answer with a qualification, noting that it depends on several factors—the size of the cave, type of rock, the climate and vegetation, etc.—but I expect you're smart enough to have anticipated this obvious point. If you're reading these words, it is rather because you understand that for the young-Earth creationist, the answer must be: 'tens to hundreds of years'. If many thousands of years are required to dissolve large caverns like Mammoth Caves in Kentucky or the Carlsbad Caverns of New Mexico, then it becomes impossible that a recent, global flood deposited the sedimentary rock in which these caves are found.

Rates of cave dissolution: a moot point?

In an earlier post, I discussed the use of speleothems (such as stalagmites) in paleoclimatology, concluding that since we can use multiple independent methods to estimate the age and growth rate of secondary formations, the thousands of speleothems older than ~5,000 years already contradict the global flood hypothesis. I stand by this evidence, and if you are also convinced by it, then it may seem pointless to discuss how long it takes to dissolve caves in the first place. On the other hand, evidence from radiometric dating seems abstract to some, and difficult to understand. I want to add a more tangible approach, therefore, to my argument.

Steve Austin's cave dissolution model regarding Kentucky limestone

In 1980, Austin published an ICR Acts and Facts article entitled "Origin of Limestone Caves", in which he argued that given the average rainfall in Kentucky, 59 cubic meters of limestone bedrock could be dissolved each year per square kilometer of land. To put that in perspective, 59 cubic meters is roughly equal to a room 13x13x13 feet in size (i.e. a large bedroom with a high ceiling), and a square kilometer encompasses about 8x8 residential blocks. Since caves dissolve preferentially along flow conduits, each city block might be underlain by a room-sized cavity after only 64 years. After ~4,000 years, the cave system would be equivalent in volume to two Wal-Mart Supercenters (236,000 cubic meters).

Dr. Austin believes that his calculations should alarm conventional geologists who reject his young-Earth timeline—and he is right, seemingly. Geologist Greg Neyman responded, however, that the residents of Kentucky, rather than 'uniformitarian geologists', should be concerned by these numbers, "since according to this creation science model, Kentucky would be so full of holes as to be unlivable." Greg is also correct.

Despite Greg's critique, young-Earth creationists continue to cite Austin's cave dissolution model without question (e.g. here). Conversely, geologists continue to assign long ages (tens to hundreds of thousands of years) to cave formation without any reference to Austin's proposed rate of dissolution. Why the lack of communication?

The problem with Dr. Austin's model is that he estimates cave formation to occur faster than the facts permit, but still too slowly to account for the world's large cave systems (like Mammoth Caves in Kentucky, on which he focuses). Even if we grant such rapid dissolution of limestone, it is still difficult to explain how the 500+ kilometers of passages found in Mammoth Caves could have formed since the Flood. Moreover, many of the world's large cave systems are filled with secondary formations (speleothems) that require themselves many years to form (see Appendix). Dr. Austin and others have thus addressed the problem by treating it in parts, and apparently with the expectation that nobody will recognize one plus one is actually larger than...one.

Fuzzy number crunching: how fast precisely?

For those not yet convinced, I want to examined Dr. Austin's calculations in detail. In short, he determines the amount of calcite that can be dissolved annually by 1) estimating the carbonate concentration of groundwater based on calcium concentration; 2) estimating the volume of groundwater that passes through the bedrock based on measured rainfall per square kilometer. Multiplying (1), a mass per volume, by (2), a volume, yields the mass of calcite dissolved each year per kilometer. Seems straightforward, right? Too simple! That is, until one verifies the assumptions that go into such a calculation.

First, Austin's model assumes that "about 1.0 meter of the 1.22 meters of mean annual rainfall go into the aquifer [i.e. groundwater]". He even prefaces the assumption with "it is reasonable to assume", but why? What makes this reasonable? Anyone reading this has access to Google Maps or a similar program that offers a bird's-eye view of Kentucky. What do you see? My map appears pretty green, because Kentucky is blanketed with trees—healthy ones at that. All of these trees require water, and any water taken up by trees does not infiltrate the bedrock. The process by which trees and other vegetation take up water from the soil is called transpiration. Precipitation can also return to the hydrologic cycle through evaporation. Collectively, these routes are referred to as evapotranspiration, and the Kentucky Climate Center reports a mean annual evapotranspiration rate of 32.77 inches for Kentucky.

To estimate the amount of rainfall that actually infiltrates the bedrock, we simply deduct 32.77 inches (0.83 meters) from the total rainfall amount: 48 inches (1.22 meters). The difference is 15.26 inches (0.39 meters), so Austin's model is already off by a factor of ~2.5. Within the article, Austin speculates that Kentucky may have received significantly more rain in the past, thereby soliciting credibility for his initial calculation. There is no direct evidence, however, of higher rainfall for Kentucky in the past 5,000 years—certainly not approaching 2.5 times modern values. Using real climate data, Austin's annually produced 59 cubic meter cave is thus reduced to 23.6 cubic meters (the equivalent of dropping the ceiling in our bedroom to only 5 feet). [Note: the evapotranspiration figure here is higher than I should have used; see comments for further discussion]

Secondly, Austin's model assumes that about 100% of the calcium in groundwater is derived from calcite dissolution. He argues to this point by noting that rainwater contains negligible amounts of calcium and magnesium, so it must all be derived from the ground. On this point, he is correct—calcium in rainwater accounts for much less than 1% that dissolved in groundwater. So what is the source of the remaining ~48.9 milligrams per liter of calcium?

Before water can infiltrate into the bedrock, it must pass through the active soil horizons (with the exception of water that falls very near disappearing streams). Soil horizons—particularly in forested ecosystems—are heavily enriched in calcium, because they contain the decayed litter of tree leaves and twigs. Trees and other vegetation actively take up calcium from the weathered bedrock through their roots, thereby enriching the uppermost soil horizons in calcium and other nutrients by several orders of magnitude.

Since calcite dissolves rather quickly in even slightly acidic rainwater, much of the 49 mg/L of calcium in groundwater is derived from the uppermost soil horizons, and not subsurface caverns. Recent work in monitoring calcium isotopes at spring outlets and along carbonate aquifers confirms this phenomenon, since 44Ca is heavily depleted in the O/A horizons and shifts the isotopic composition of groundwater negative (more so during the wet months).

Carbon isotopes in cave deposits also confirm that a bulk of the dissolved carbonate material is derived from the soil rather than the surrounding bedrock. The δ values of most soils is between -25‰ and -15‰, while limestone bedrock is close to 0‰ (give or take). Carbon isotope values of speleothems are commonly between -10‰ and -2‰, reflecting a mixing value between the soil and bedrock signatures.

If the calcium in Austin's equation is derived largely from the soil and not the expanding cave, then his estimate is wrong by nearly an order of magnitude. Austin is far from explaining the presence of large caverns—certainly in humid climates like Kentucky or Southeast Asia, but more so in arid climates like the American Southwest or Israel/Turkey, which he neglects to mention.

Conclusion

Cave dissolution occurs neither as rapidly nor as simply as Austin proposes. Soil activity, groundwater chemistry, and the presence of joints and faults in the bedrock play a significant role. Austin's young-Earth model can benefit from none of these, however, since 1) rich soils could not have been present immediately after the flood, 2) pore waters would have been saturated in carbonate, and 3) joints and faults cannot form to serve as flow conduits in unconsolidated sediment (i.e. soft sediment that hasn't yet been cemented together). More recent estimates suggest that cave conduits typically widen by less than a centimeter every ten years—a far cry from Austin's 59-meter-long tunnel.

Along with speleothem formation, the problem of cave dissolution remains an immovable stumbling block to the young-Earth creationist, who must propose that both processes can complete in a few thousands of years. The massive, decorated caverns across the world may stand as testament to the beauty of God's creation, but they strongly preclude the notion of a recent, global flood. Our time is better spent, I believe, reconciling these observations with scripture to better understand both.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Appendix

Austin devotes a section to secondary formations, but seems to have little experience on the matter. He notes, for example, that radiocarbon dating had been used to date speleothems but rejects the validity of these dates. He claims rather that the carbonate minerals should give deceptively old dates because the bedrock should contain little or no radioactive carbon. That is true, but geologists involved in dating speleothems already know this, so they assume that only a portion of the calcite in speleothems was derived from the atmosphere (i.e. soil-derived carbon) to calculate their dates. Austin's skepticism is rooted, therefore, in a non sequitur.

At the time Austin's article was written, speleothem analysis was in its infancy, so I must give him the benefit of the doubt. But his attempt at explaining the rate of speleothem growth is shown obviously to be flawed. Regarding a 2-meter stalagmite called "Great Dome", he states:

"A large stalagmite like Great Dome may contain 100 million cubic centimeters of calcite, which, if accumulated in 4,000 years, would require a deposition rate of 25,000 cubic centimeters...yearly. If the dripping water is assumed to deposit 0.5 gram of calcite per liter, 133,000 liters of water would have to drip over the stalagmite each year. Because about 6,000 drops comprise 1 liter, it would take about 800 million drops of water per year to form the stalagmite. This works out to 25 drops of water per second...Whether a stalagmite would be deposited in the above hypothetical situation is not known." (emphasis added)

Anyone that even owns a faucet should know that a drip rate of 25 drops per second is absurd. I would challenge Austin to find even a man-made device that could produce such a phenomenon. Regardless, the answer to Austin's question is no, a stalagmite could not be deposited in this situation. The reason is that each drip requires time to degas and partially evaporate—otherwise it will not precipitate calcite, because, as Austin himself stated, the water is undersaturated with respect to calcite. Despite a noble attempt and a novel approach, Dr. Austin cannot explain the existence of caves and their decorations in a young-Earth paradigm.

Book Review (Part 3): Ken Ham's uncompromising approach to alternate views on creation and the flood

2011-08-10T15:24:00.000-07:00

In this final post (see Part 1 and Part 2 prior), I want to begin by giving credit where it is due.* Despite my critical comments on the method employed by Ken Ham and Greg Hall, I can sympathize with their prime motivation. Greg Hall explains (p. 104):

"In general, believers have failed to bring Christian truth to bear in society. As a result, we have a culture that has moved far away from God. We have a culture that does not consult the Word of God. We as Christians are not salt and light to our world and we have lost our influence—for the time being."

In this, he is absolutely right. Modern evangelicalism has learned well how to get people 'in the door' and excited about what God has in store for them. Quite frequently, however, this is done by reducing the gospel message to the proverbial icing on one's moralistic cake, as if to say: "Your life is good now, but the message of Jesus will give it purpose and remove the guilt surrounding your shortcomings." Such a reductionistic form of the gospel not only lacks the most central aspect—the lordship of Christ—but prevents believers from fulfilling their true vocation to the world—a lamp, not a safety deposit box. Greg hits the nail on the head, I believe, in this section.

Earlier in the book (p. 38), Greg observed that "the anti-Christian, atheistic segment of our culture has become very militant." This statement needs little justification, though he offers a brief body of evidence. Few Christians would disagree, moreover, that an active defense of the gospel and biblical authority is required now more than ever. In this regard, I can only commend the authors for upholding what they see as a faithful response to that call. My critique is meant, therefore, to be constructive; I want to see them succeed in this arena.

But Greg later raises the practical question of church unity, about which he says (p. 161):

"We are often told we should be concentrating on our unity in Christ alone...but this view ignores a larger question — can we separate the centrality of Christ from the authority of His Word?"

Since this view itself rests in the centrality of Christ and the authority of His word, we need to understand Greg's nuanced form of the challenge. Nobody asserts that unity in Christ can be sought apart from biblical authority, so Greg is once more appealing to a specific hermeneutic (reading) of Scripture that he feels is integral to the mission. Put another way, Greg feels that anyone curtailing a literalistic reading of the Genesis narrative is somehow undermining the centrality of Christ and His word. My counter perspective aside, it is vital to understand this foundational mentality if one is to approach the YEC movement with any meaningful interaction.

On a final note in passing, Ken devoted a full chapter to analyzing variegated responses from the President and Vice-President of each college (or the equivalent position to these titles). I will not elaborate on these results, because I think they are the most interesting of the study. If you want to know why the two head administrators are commonly not on the same page, or whether that is beneficial in education, then I suggest you buy the book!

Alternative views on creation: why won't Ken compromise?

Ken's ministry has devoted an enormous amount of time and money defending what it believes to be a spotless presentation of the biblical worldview. Further, he believes (p. 172) that the Answers in Genesis article database represents the honest research of "biblical-creation scientists and theologians," who have provided solid answers to evidential arguments against a young-Earth paradigm. Within this backdrop, I do not doubt Mr. Ham's sincerity with regard to his beliefs. Nonetheless, I am taken back by the way in which he interacts with those postulating alternative viewpoints. In response to the poll results, he summarizes (p. 127, emphasis added):

"What we appear to have is a basic biblical illiteracy among some of the leaders and professors of Christian colleges. Not only are their responses contradictory to the clear teachings of Scripture, but they are also inconsistent with themselves. This is far, far from “thinking Christianly.” Perhaps this is because most of them have never been trained in it, and are therefore stuck in a quagmire of belief, where they claim to believe in Scripture but are really being influenced by the secular worldview."

As we saw earlier, the supposed inconsistency among respondents results only from Ken's rigid, but flawed, schema by which he has interpreted the results. Whether these responses are contradictory to biblical teaching is perhaps a question better answered by theologians—most of whom disagree with Ken on how to read the Bible. Ken's accusation that respondents are not "thinking Christianly" is therefore not only inappropriate, but somewhat ironic. Moreover, it reveals the dogmatism of his position, in that he precludes the possibility that his 'opponents' have reasoned to their perspectives by thinking critically through the body of evidence. Rather, he proclaims that the only explanation behind their dissension is a full-fledged, but unstated, capitulation to "the secular worldview" (as though there were just one!).

Picking on Professors: John Walton and the Lost World of Genesis One

In one of the appendices (entitled Speaking of Newspeak), Ken examines the opposing views of several Christian professors that have published recently on the origins debate. Among them are William Dembski, best known for his work on 'Intelligent Design', Davis Young (co-author of The Bible, Rocks, and Time), Karl Giberson (former director of Biologos), William Lane Craig, Bruce Waltke, Howard J. Van Till, John Collins, and more. Ken's method of examination, however, involves little more than following carefully selected quotes from the respective authors with a witty, rhetorical remark that belies the crucial context of each quote. For example, when Karl Giberson raises several literary challenges to the young-Earth paradigm out of the biblical text, Ken simply remarks (p. 182):

"So, no literal Fall, no literal Adam and Eve — so much for Christianity!"

Ken seems to think, therefore, that his readers will not care to pick up—let alone read—the full work of each author cited, and I think he has made a safe assumption. Unfortunately, he has managed to 'shock' most of his readers into thinking 'Wow, this is weird. I better stay away from these people!' This tactic is hardly conducive to critical thinking, let alone church unity.

Mr. Ham's rhetorical remarks are hardly worth exploring further, but I do want to comment on his treatment of Dr. John Walton of Wheaton College. In his book The Lost World of Genesis One, Dr. Walton uses comparative literature and cultural studies to elucidate the literal meaning of the famous creation narrative. Therein, he concludes that the Genesis account has nothing to do with the material origin of things, but describes in semi-poetic prose how God pronounced function to, and took up residence in the universe—His 'cosmic temple'. This interpretation explicitly denies all forms of scientific concordism (Young and Old Earth). Walton believes, therefore, that questions about the age of the Earth, evolution, etc. are left to the scientific disciplines, and that no predictions can/should be made from the text of Genesis.

Although Walton's proposal is bound to ruffle many feathers among concordist traditions, his argument is well developed, and appeals to biblical texts alongside recently discovered literature from the Ancient Near East (i.e. the lost world in which Genesis was written). The result is an interpretation of Genesis that 1) remains faithful to the historical-redemptive tradition of biblical theology, 2) is consistent with ancient near eastern culture and worldviews, and 3) does not force contradiction with geological evidence regarding Earth history. As an aside, his interpretation also creates the most beautiful picture of the creation narrative that I have come across.

That being said, let's take a look at how Ken responds. He says (p. 185):

"[Walton] basically insists that one can only understand Genesis if one has an understanding of ancient Near Eastern thinking — and surprise, surprise — this has been lost for thousands of years. Now a few academics like Dr. Walton have unearthed this thinking so now they can tell us what the writer of Genesis 1 really meant! It is an academic elitism."

Ken's charge of academic elitism is easily reversed. After familiarizing myself with YEC literature and the article database at Answers in Genesis, I started to wonder years ago whether anyone could have truly understood the meaning of Genesis 1–11 without grasping general relativity, nuclear physics, catastrophic plate tectonics, seafloor oceanography, accelerated nuclear decay, and accelerated speciation after Noah's ark landed! But now a few academics like Russell Humphreys, John Baumgardner, Steve Austin, and Andrew Snelling have properly applied these concepts so that I might understand passages like Genesis 1:2–3 to mean that the entire mass of the universe began as a sphere of water that collapsed and rebounded like a neutron star after God altered the cosmological constant!

Opting for frivolous attacks on personal character, Ken has thus failed to grasp the principle of Walton's approach: if we wish to understand the original meaning of Genesis 1, we have to understand the cultural and literary world in which it was written. But that culture has in fact been lost for more than two millennia, starting with the fall of the Persian/Babylonian empires. New Testament scholars commonly use contemporary literature to elucidate Jesus' parables, or Paul's Caesar/Christ antithesis—why not do the same for Genesis? Unfortunately, ancient near eastern literature has only been uncovered in the past century and a half, before which 1800 years of Christian dogmatics (influenced partly by Greek/Roman cultures) had already been firmly established.

On the other hand, the only part of Walton's proposal with which Ken should really take issue is that it rejects scientific concordism. Walton does not deny the biblical doctrine of creation—only that Genesis might be used to formulate scientific hypotheses! In fact, Walton makes it clear that his view of Genesis 1 does not necessarily contradict the notion of a young Earth. Ken doesn't buy it though (otherwise he wouldn't have an argument), and responds (p. 185):

"Walton tries (unsuccessfully) to insist that he is not coming up with this new idea of his because of the influence of evolution/millions of years...He knows that young people today have a conflict between the secular view of origins and the Bible — so his solution is to relegate Genesis 1 as having nothing to do with material origins and thus people are free to believe whatever they want..."

Mr. Ham's caricature again reveals the dogmatism behind his own stance. He denies a priori the possibility that Walton's line of reasoning is actually based on the evidence cited in the book. Walton devotes a whole chapter to explaining why the ancients would not be concerned with material origins, since they did not separate 'natural' from 'supernatural' and it was assumed by the culture that anything 'material' existed because of the divine. Rather than dealing with that evidence, Ken raises the unwarranted charge that ulterior motives are at play—motives rooted in secular, humanistic philosophy, no less!

In the next paragraph, Ken redirects Walton's hermeneutic into a personal attack on none other than the Reformers, as though Dr. Walton's prime goal is to be the only person that has properly understood Genesis (apparently Ken does not understand how scholarship works?). I can't imagine how Ken Ham would defend Luther against the charge that he was engaging in academic elitism by offering to be the first person in 1400 years to properly understand justification and the law! Moreover, did Calvin deny the pontifical authority of the Pope so that "people are free to believe whatever they want"? Wisdom is justified by all her children.

Ken further believes that "Dr. Walton has a different view of inspiration to that of Drs. Whitcomb and Morris...our AiG staff, and millions of other Christians around the world" (p. 189), because he appeals to extrabiblical cultural and textual evidence. Is Ken thus admitting that we should never appeal to evidence outside the biblical text to elucidate the biblical text? Ironically, Ken follows with a discussion on the meaning of θεοπνευστος in 2 Timothy 3:16, as though Dr. Walton is unaware of the Greek language. I cannot help but to ask—given that Mr. Ham is Australian and not a 1st-century Greek—did Ken consult a lexicon to obtain this meaning? Does he believe that lexicons are authoritative on matters of faith? He continues:

"If the infinite God, who created language, cannot move people to write His “God-breathed” words so all people (regardless of culture) can understand them, then there is something dreadfully wrong."

Of course, Dr. Walton never suggested that nobody has understood Genesis, and he affirms the orthodox doctrine of creation. Ken thus misses the point. On the contrary, Walton favors the power of story and narrative to transcend time and culture over against 'scientific' accounts. On page 17 of his own book, he brilliantly explains:

"If God were intent on making his revelation correspond to science, we have to ask which science...By its very nature science is in a constant state of flux. If we were to say that God's revelation corresponds to "true science" we adopt an idea contrary to the very nature of science. What is accepted as true today, may not be accepted as true tomorrow, because what science provides is the best explanation of the data at the time...So if God aligned revelation with one particular science, it would have been unintelligible to people who lived prior to the time of that science, and it would be obsolete to those who live after that time. We gain nothing by bringing God's revelation into accordance with today's science. In contrast, it makes perfect sense that God communicated his revelation to his immediate audience in terms they understood."

Dr. Walton's reasoning well reflects that of Calvin and Augustine, who famously warned against using Genesis as a book of science. Calvin and Augustine both accepted a young Earth, not because it was demanded by the biblical text, but in accordance with the best science of their day. Ken's discussion on the inspiration and authority of scripture over against extrabiblical data is but a misdirection that prevents readers from exploring the full meaning of Genesis. Is Ken really satisfied to say that Genesis 1 is a simple, eyewitness account with no theological structure and polemics? In trying to separate 'history' from 'theology' in the Genesis account, Mr. Ham does damage to both.

Ken concludes by citing Walton's view on the Flood (p. 190), wherein Dr. Walton says:

"It has already been suggested that the boat in Mesopotamian accounts [of the Flood] may have served as a floating shrine...In this sense the Mesopotamian ark appears as a physical representation of a sanctuary, while the Genesis ark appears as a functional representation of a sanctuary. Creation both in the Bible and in the ancient Near East entailed deity bringing order while pushing back chaos...In this sense, the flood represents a reversal of creation."

To which Ken sarcastically remarks, "Now that makes sense to the average person, doesn’t it? Why didn’t any Jews or Christians before the 20th century ever think of this?" Well yes, Ken, it does make sense. And I believe that even a brief survey of Christian and Jewish thought on the Flood will reveal that many have been able to make the simple connection between the ark and the tabernacle/temple, and between the flood and recreation themes throughout scripture (you can begin with my discussion here).

Amid the discussion, Ken complains (p. 189) that: "We are seeing academia in the Christian world going mad as “Protestant popes” are popping up all over the Christian world." Yet how does Mr. Ham exclude himself from this category? Or does he? If he responds that his worldview is actually biblical, then his dogmatic claim to the Cathedra Petri is once more revealed. If not, then his statement is empty, but I am inclined to think that Ken falls victim to his own accusation, which he further explicates on page 193 (emphasis added):

"Why are we seeing more and more bizarre and elitist ideas (like those of Dr. Dembski and Dr. Walton) coming out of Christian academia? I believe it is an academic pride, from academic peer pressure, because ultimately some of these people love “human praise more than praise from God” (John 12:43; NIV)."

I do pray that I am wrong on this matter, but the conclusion is difficult to escape as I follow the work of Answers in Genesis, including this book. I can see no other reason, at this point, that Ken refuses to interact with Christian academia on the meaning of the biblical text. Rather than heeding the advice of Christian colleagues, Ken renders judgment on their hearts and accuses them of loving men over God. Finally, he alienates his readers from their own culture and forces them to fight an unnecessary battle, while placing a stumbling block before a people today that desperately needs Christ.

After weighing two extremes, I have given this book two stars. If you disagree with my assessment, please feel free to comment (here or at Amazon.com). Below, I have summarized my thoughts:

Positive

1) This book contains real poll data from Christian colleges around the country. If you are interested in what faculty and administrators from Christian colleges believe about creation, the flood, and biblical authority, I recommend this book.

2) If you reject YEC, but have a vested interest in how it affects the church today, this book elucidates the mindset behind that paradigm in a way that online blogs and articles do not. I recommend this book if you want to know who Ken Ham is—what he believes and why he does what he does.

3) If this book were written by Greg Hall alone, I would be inclined to give it at least 3 to 4 stars. The sections written by Dr. Hall offer pastoral advice from a man who wants passionately to share his faith. Though I do not share his viewpoint on scripture, creation, etc., I appreciate his sincerity and his attempt to reason through the challenges of our culture today.

4) This book is an easy read, which I finished in less than two days while taking seven pages of notes. At right around $11, it will not require much of your time or money.

Negative

1) The authors continuously equivocate terms (like 'literal', or even 'science') to the disadvantage of respondents that disagree with them. Ken's handle on the poll data lacked any critical evaluation, and (like many articles from AiG) made the data irrelevant to what he was saying. In other words, the book could have been written without any poll data and obtained the same result.

2) Ken takes every opportunity to belittle Christian professors that offer alternative viewpoints, rather than dealing thoughtfully and humbly with their words. This sort of rhetoric made the book uncomfortable to read.

3) Ken employs a 'shock' tactic, whereby he cites a large portion of his opponent's own words and afterward refuses to engage in the discussion. Implicitly, he portrays the respective authors as 'weird', 'out of place', or 'misguided' without having to make his case. This strategy turned the book into an opinionated piece out of Ken's diary, rather than a scholarly work of any worth.

4) While this book contains numerous results from Ken's comprehensive poll, the raw data are not available! Much academic value could have been added to this book if the appendix were replaced by tables that detailed the responses to every question.

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*I also want to thank Jennifer White and New Leaf Publishing Group for providing a copy of Already Compromised to me for review.

Book Review (Part 2): Science vs. Religion (Departments)—which is more 'compromised' according to Ken Ham?

2011-07-30T22:57:00.000-07:00

In the first post, I examined how Ken Ham and Greg Hall used a methodology similar to KJV Onlyists when interpreting poll results in their book Already Compromised. By arbitrarily defining their own views on creation as the singular, biblical worldview, they managed to transform a poll about personal beliefs into a test. Ken summarized the results thusly (p. 35):

"Overall, we found that only 24 percent of the 312 people surveyed answered every question correctly...and these are the “good guys”!"

Nobody can blame the authors for believing themselves to be in the right, but this attitude shifted the book from an academic discussion about Christian education into a pontifical monologue that precluded critical reflection.

Departmental matchup

Now, I want to consider how the authors compared the science and religion departments from each institution. As an introductory exercise, ask yourself how you might expect the heads of the science and religion departments to answer the same set of questions regarding biblical authority, literalism, and views on creation/Earth history. In which department would you expect to find more biblical literalists? Old-Earth creationists? Inerrantists? Let's take a look.

Biblical Inerrancy

As it turns out, the two departments were on the same page with regard to biblical authority, and a vast majority affirmed the inspiration, infallibility, and inerrancy of scripture. A slightly higher (but not statistically significant) percentage of Religion professors affirmed these three doctrines, to which Ken responded (p. 52, emphasis added):

"As you can see, the responses are fairly close, with the religion departments claiming a slightly higher view of Scripture than the science departments."

I am slightly bothered by the use of the comparative term "higher" in this context. More often than not, it is used pejoratively to speak of those who question modern definitions of inerrancy. The more I have studied the history of this doctrine, the more I have come to think its use is simply polemical—in other words, a method of protecting scripture from modernism and liberalism rather than a scripture-derived doctrine. The result is a number of odd discussions about how many times Jesus cursed the fig tree and cleansed the temple (e.g. here) or which calendar the gospel writers used to chronicle the passion week. In the end, readers miss the grand points of the gospel narratives and only push other believers into liberalism. Regardless of how you feel about the doctrine of inerrancy, Ken's treatment of this section is consistent with my hypothesis concerning his agenda.

How old is the Earth?

When asked specific questions on the historicity of Genesis 1–9, a higher percentage of respondents from the science department sided with Ken Ham. A whopping 78% of respondents from the religion departments considered themselves 'Old-Earth' Christians, compared to only 35% in the science department! Not surprisingly, Ken finds a moment to rejoice (p. 54):

"It turns out that the science department is much more biblical in their beliefs than the religion department!...The religion chairs and the Bible departments are choosing to be influenced by worldly philosophy rather than what the Bible clearly teaches concerning historical science and the facts of observational science that confirm the biblical record."

I suppose that's one way to put it. We might also consider, however, the fact that a vast majority of Christian scientists reject young-Earth creationism for lack of scientific evidence. If you are a professor of biblical studies with a literature background, how might you weigh the spurious evidence of radioactive carbon in diamonds and excess helium in zircons—especially when Christian scientists that work in radiocarbon and material science labs have exhaustively documented the bogus claims of RATE team studies? When faced with a factual decision on matters outside of our own expertise, we typically defer credibility to expert witnesses, and young-Earth creationists have neither the numbers nor the evidence on their side. Ken further speculates:

"This isn’t surprising, considering most of them attended seminaries that adhere to compromise views such as the “documentary hypothesis,” a theory that denies that Moses wrote a cohesive historical account of history in the first five books of the Bible."

To my knowledge, Ken did not poll respondents on their view of the documentary hypothesis (DH), but I am willing to speculate along with him that a higher percentage of religion professors accept it. The reason is that they deal directly with the textual and historical evidence on which it is based. But I highly doubt that acceptance of this theory is responsible for the divergence in opinion on the age of the Earth. Christian proponents of the DH do not reject the inspiration of scripture, for example, and nearly 90% of Ken's respondents affirmed the inerrancy of scripture.

The Pentateuchal authorship and date of composition is irrelevant, therefore, to whether one accepts the Genesis account as historical. If you already accept the narratives as divinely inspired, infallible, and inerrant, does it really matter when the text was written down or by whom? Even if the Flood narrative originated as an eyewitness account (I believe it did), the final Pentateuchal version has added theological imagery and structure. Besides, it is possible to deny that an eyewitness account is 100% accurate. Ken's hypothesis does little, in my opinion, to explain these results.

A better explanation for the departmental dichotomy can be found in their respective literary views of scripture. In the religion department, 73% of respondents believed the creation account is "literally true", but only 57% believe this was done in "six literal 24-hour days". As previously noted, Ken believes this is inconsistent and that respondents are simply confused and contradicting themselves. But in reality, these questions reveal that professors of religion have a better appreciation for the term "literal" than does Mr. Ham.

Another missing link in the train of thought might be found in how respondents view the biblical genealogies. Are they meant to help us back calculate dates for primeval events (like the flood and creation) or were they a later addition meant to add more than just biographical information to the stories? Students of the Bible from each department may approach this question differently, depending on how they normally treat numerical data. The same goes for understanding the days of creation. It is possible to affirm that God created in "six literal days" without attaching "24 hours" to those days and placing them at the head of Ussher's chronology.

When asked whether they thought faculty from the religion and science departments shared the same view on the age of the Earth, 81.5% of religion professors said "Yes" compared to only 36.5% from the sciences. What does this mean? Is there a miscommunication? Ken comments, "The religion department thinks everyone has the same view, but the science department tends to know better." I think Ken oversimplifies the matter, however, and actually overlooks the answer when discussing old vs. young earth views between the departments (p. 56):

"...what I am finding is that most Christian parents and students...expect that...it would be science professors who would be more likely to lean toward evolution/millions of years and that religion professors would be more likely to lean toward a literal creation."

That's exactly right, and it seems everyone had the same presumption. If you recall, 78% of religion professors called themselves 'Old-Earth' Christians—about the same number that believe the science department is on the same page. Conversely, 57% of science professors deem themselves "Young-Earth" Christians—about the same number that believe the religion department is on the same page.

Ken's poll thus confirmed what the general perception has always been: 'millions of years' is a personal tenant of scientists, but people that teach the Bible for a living invariably believe in a young Earth. Of course, the poll also exposed this dichotomy as a myth—most professors in biblical studies do not believe in a young-Earth or a literalistic approach to Genesis.

Ken's refusal to learn from his own test

Although Ken claims not to have been surprised by the results from each department, he does seem bothered that most professors of biblical studies don't share his take on the Bible. So why don't faculty in the religion department adopt his hermeneutic? I think it is because his approach depends on a simplistic view of scripture that refuses to engage in literary, cultural, or historical critical studies—not what you would expect from Ph.D.'s in literature, language, and history. Ironically, Ken blames it on their ignorance of science (p. 56):

"Can the religion department explain the existence of coal deposits and how they were formed? Can they explain the actual structure of the fossil record? Can they explain the assumptions behind radiometric dating methods? No, they can’t."

Judging by the articles offered at Answers in Genesis, neither can you, Mr. Ham. Ultimately, the physical evidence for 'creation science' only makes sense within a non-scientific, young-Earth paradigm, where the conclusion is known from the outset. It seems most folks in the religion department recognize the flawed methodology of young-Earth creationism, and prefer to appeal to people who actually conduct scientific research. This frustrates Ken further, as he tells us (p. 56, emphasis added):

"When I engage liberals from the religion departments...most of them repeat the familiar mantra: “Science has proven that evolution/ millions of years is true.” But when I ask them for specifics, they often don’t have much of a clue, as they are depending on some other authority. If I ask them why they believe in an old earth, they invariably answer, “Because of radiocarbon dating.” But any scientist should know that the radiocarbon dating method can’t be used for something that is supposedly millions of years old."

True, but it can show us how many thousands of objects are older than Noah's flood (trees, sediments, caves, etc.) and the Garden of Eden. It also shows that marine and lake sediments have been accumulating continuously—without catastrophic interruption—for the past 10, 20, or even 50 thousand years.

I suspect Ken might answer with a story about the pre-Flood biomass and post-Flood volcanics diluting the carbon cycle; or a pre-Flood atmosphere that blocked out radiation, or any number of hypotheses contrary to the facts—as long as it protects his reading of scripture. But in the end, the radiocarbon method stands as solid evidence against the young-Earth paradigm, and these professors are justified in citing it. Ken cannot explain, for example, the agreement of radiocarbon dating with U-Th disequilibrium dating (which is unrelated to the factors above), or with tree ring, ice core, and varve counts; or how Native American campfires could date to ~11,000 years ago when they must have burnt long after the Flood.

Conclusion

When asked whether they consider themselves a ‘young-earth or old-earth Christian’, more than twice the respondents from the religion department answered ‘old-earth’ than in the science department. Ken found this result "intriguing and very disturbing.” Ironically, Ham’s approach to science is rooted in a dogmatic dependence on his literalistic reading of Genesis—a reading rejected by the vast majority of professors of religion, according to his own poll. But Ken is too nearsighted to see what this means, and so he hides behind yet another defense mechanism to explain the unexpected result: “The science department tends to know better.”

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This review will be continued in Part 3: Ken Ham's uncompromising approach to alternate views on creation and the flood.

**A condensed version of this book review is available on Amazon, where I gave the book two stars. If you have found the discussion helpful, please vote for the review there.

Book Review (Part 1): Ken Ham takes a page from the KJV-Onlyists in 'Already Compromised'

2011-07-29T21:43:00.000-07:00

In their recent book Already Compromised, authors Ken Ham and Greg Hall sound a warning call to parents enrolling their children at Christian colleges around the country. Why the alarm? As it turns out, not every Christian academic shares Ham's view on creation and Earth history. Presumably, students and parents alike opt for Christian higher education to avoid the influence of 'secularism' (i.e. evolution and 'millions of years'), but what "they don’t know," according to Ham, "is that, like the secular schools they wish to avoid...a growing number of the Christian schools they attend are...Already Compromised" (p. 8).

The book begins with a rather simple overview that chronicles the transition of Ivy League seminaries in America to secularized universities. Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Dartmouth—all began as modest institutions designed to raise up ministers in the Puritan and Protestant traditions. But to meet the demands of a growing and diversifying economy, and preserve their stature as major beacons to American intellectuals, these universities adopted principles of academic—and hence religious—freedom in their curriculum. Mr. Ham is correct about one thing: it is mildly disheartening to see the spiritual foundations of our university system blurred in a fog of relativism. But if schools such as Harvard had maintained the narrow disciplinary focus and guidelines that Ham envisions, they would not today be known to us as Harvard, etc., but as that little ol' seminary in Massachusetts.

Regardless of how one thinks the Ivy League schools should have responded to intellectual movements of the past 400 years, we can still ask whether Christian colleges today should follow a similar path. Ken Ham thinks not. In fact, he believes the transition has already begun, and that it's time to take a stand. Ham and Hall polled 312 faculty/administration from ostensibly Christian institutions to assess 'how bad' the situation really is. "Christian colleges took a test on the state of their faith," reads the subtitle, "and the results are in!" If you read the back cover, you might expect the results to be "revealing and shocking!"

But if you've paid any attention to the origins debate in recent years, then prepare to be utterly unsurprised.

Method and agenda

I love polls, and I love pondering the results. Therefore, I would recommend this book to everyone simply on the basis that it contains a detailed analysis of what faculty and administration believe about creation, the age of the Earth, and biblical authority. An independent research group polled faculty/deans from both the science and religion departments, as well as the President and Vice-President of each institution. Both Catholic and Protestant schools were represented. Some institutions required faculty to sign a statement of faith; others did not. Regardless of whether this book properly interpreted the results, the data are bound to be informative and stimulating.

Unfortunately, it seemed the authors had a predetermined agenda that even guided the wording of their poll. "We are at war," writes Greg Hall, "against thoughts...raised up against the knowledge of God...aimed at the minds of our children." (p. 37) Few Christians would disagree, I think, until one recognizes how the authors categorically limit "the knowledge of God." Ken Ham clarifies, anecdotally, "I consider the view of taking a strong stand on six literal days and a young earth as the correct biblical view, and the other views are incorrect."

So this poll is not so much about understanding the diversity in Christian opinion as it is exposing educators that would dare disagree with Ken Ham or Answers in Genesis. Since I am familiar with Ham's work, and the articles that appear at Answers in Genesis, I was not surprised by his suspect methodology (ambiguously worded questions and equivocation of answers). My hope, however, is that you will find it in yourself to think critically through this work, and consider that Ham and Hall may have overstated the case.

KJV Onlyism—what's the connection?

Not far into the 236-page book, I felt that I was reading inside of an echo chamber. Ham's hermeneutic, which I hope to elucidate in the following sections, was eerily familiar. Years ago, I became interested in the field of textual criticism, which seeks to reconstruct the original text of the Bible using variant manuscripts. In short, ancient (hand-written) copies of the Bible do not agree with each other letter for letter, but contain textual variations. A majority of these differences are as meaningless as spelling errors and accidental word omissions (i.e. 'typos'), but a sufficient number of major variants (i.e. additional or variant vocabulary, sentences, or even paragraphs that affect the meaning of a text) exist to keep scholars busy under piles of newly discovered papyri.

Most Christians ignore the issue of textual criticism, or see it as unfruitful. Others, however, are disturbed that we can't know with 100% certainty the original words of Scripture, and even repulsed by the idea of a 'critical text'. Are these really the words of Jesus and the apostles? Can we still trust the Bible?

This sort of skepticism in Christianity is fertile ground for what is called the King James Version Only movement. Reacting to what they perceive as a threat to the authority of God's word, KJV Onlyists have posited that God inspired an English translation of the biblical text for our day and age. Which version is that? Well, the 1611 King James Authorized Version, of course! Never mind that the KJV was updated a century later, and ultimately rests on the textual critical work of Desiderius Erasmus. KJV Onlyists have elegantly dodged debates surrounding the elusive original text by arbitrarily defining a new datum. [Before moving on, I should note that KJV Onlyism comes in many forms, and I have intentionally simplified the debate here; see The King James Only Controversy by Dr. James White for an excellent, scholarly overview.]

After the King James Version of the Bible has been dogmatically defined as the standard for God's word, rational discourse effectively comes to a halt. If the NIV or NASB do not contain a word or phrase that is found in the KJV (e.g. 1 John 5:7), it is because translators of the newer versions are trying to manipulate God's word (in this case, by willfully removing a prooftext for the Trinity). In the mind of some KJV Onlyists, the appeal to more ancient and widely attested manuscript evidence is but a contrivance of academic elitism—or worse, a Satanic conspiracy.

Within this paradigm, one can only imagine how a poll might be conducted of faculty at Christian colleges. Imagine that you were faced with the following questions:

1. Do you believe the Bible is the Word of God?

(a) Yes

(b) No

2. Do you regularly read the Word of God?

(a) Yes

(b) No

3. Which version of the Bible do you read?

(a) King James Version

(b) New International Version

(d) English Standard Version

Now consider the following (hypothetical) results:

1: (a) 97% (b) 3%
2: (a) 87% (b) 13%
3: (a) 11% (b) 42% (c) 15% (d) 32%

To the average person, these data may simply represent current opinions on the doctrine of inspiration or the palpability of each English Bible to the modern reader. But to the KJV Onlyist, there is only one right set of answers: a, a, and a. If an ardent KJV Onlyist were reporting the results, he/she might even comment that 'although 97% of respondents believe the Bible is the Word of God, and still 87% claim to read it, a whopping 89% are apparently confused, because they admit to reading something that is not the Word of God (i.e. the King James Bible) but a secularized corruption! Don't they realize that their answers for 1 and 3 are contradictory?'

If you think this kind of analysis would be misleading, and only muddles the results of the poll, then you can understand my frustration in reading Already Compromised. Consider, for example, the following set of questions from Ham's poll (p. 21–22):

13. Do you believe the Genesis 1–2 account of creation is literally true?
• Yes: 83.0% • No: 14.7% • Don't know: 2.2%

16. Do you believe in God creating the earth in six literal 24-hour days?
• Yes: 59.6% • No: 38.5%

17. Do you believe in God creating the earth, but not in six literal days?
• Yes: 47.1% • No: 50.6% • Don't know: 2.2%

How would you respond? I would answer Yes, No, and No. The reason is that I have no trouble adhering to a 'literal' reading of Genesis 1–2 or proclaiming that God created things in 6 'literal' days, but I see no reason to believe these chapters have anything to do with the passage of time on Earth. Rather, it pertains to the 'work week' of the timeless God. Nonetheless, Ken believes my answers to be inconsistent, and so he comments (p. 22, emphasis added):

"It’s clear that we have some confusion here...people didn’t always mean what they said. For example, 83 percent said that they believe Genesis 1 and 2 are literally true. But when we asked whether they believe God created in six literal days, only 59.6 percent answered yes. That means about 23 percent are either confused, wrong, or just haven’t thought this through...Questions 16 and 17 are virtually the opposites of each other...but almost 10 percent of the people answered yes to both questions, indicating that they believe in six literal days of creation and they don’t believe in six literal days of creation!"

Ken's fiat declaration that a literal reading of Genesis requires a 24-hour day, young-Earth model—though well intentioned—is but an artifact of his own hubris. These results merely imply that respondents do not agree with Ken on what the 'literal' reading of Genesis is—not that they are confused or "wrong"! Nonetheless, he continues (p. 34): "nearly four in five who adhere to an old-earth theory believe the Bible is literally true. Keep in mind these two concepts are polar opposites." Like those who limit God's word to a 17th-century translation of the former, Ken has limited the meaning of God's word to his own interpretation, and then acts surprised to find that not everyone follows his line of reasoning.

The inquisition doesn't end at Genesis 2, of course. Ken goes on to analyze respondents' take on the Flood (p. 53, emphasis added): "Notice that while 75 percent and 84 percent said they believe the Bible is literally true, only slightly more than half...believe in a literal worldwide flood! Approximately 25 percent are being inconsistent in their answers." But a question like "Do you believe the Bible is literally true?" is very different from "Do you believe the entire Earth was covered with water several thousand years ago, during which continents rearranged, entire mountain chains were formed, and 99% of animals went extinct as they were buried under miles of sediment; and that every individual terrestrial/avian species today (including humans) is descended from the survivors of a 450-foot long wooden boat?"

Since Ken already knows the diversity of Christian opinion on the Flood story, I find it curious that he would deem it appropriate to phrase the questions as he did. It seems to me that he is creating an experiment in which he already knows the results, and plans to use the data to meet the needs of his agenda. One might give Ken the benefit of the doubt, however, and assume that he doesn't understand how the word 'literal' is or ought to be used. That assumption, accurate or not, is key to his recurring rhetoric. He notes, for example, that

"79.1 percent of those who believe the earth is old also believe that the Bible is literally true. The word “literally true” apparently means nothing to them." (p. 123, emphasis added)

No, Mr. Ham. The phrase "literally true" apparently means too little to yourself. Ken hits the nail on the head in page 83, where he says (regarding the 'global' nature of the Flood):

"...even those words donʼt necessarily mean to these academics what they mean to us. Iʼm not saying that theyʼre necessarily being deceptive; theyʼre just not being descriptive. If you want to find out what they really mean, you have to ask very specific questions."

That is absolutely correct. Moreover, you should recognize that the word 'literal' is hardly descriptive in and of itself, in part because our common, connotative use of the word diverges in meaning from the academic use. We don't believe that a 'literal' reading of Genesis requires belief in a young-Earth, or a recent, worldwide, geological catastrophe. Period. To reconcile that point, we must consider what the respondents actually had in mind regarding 'literal' this, and 'literal' that.

The literal literalism of lexical absolutism

I normally try to avoid speaking of the 'literal' reading of Scripture, because I see it a moot point to affirm or deny that God's word is 'literally true'. Regardless of one's answer, it will invariably die the death of a thousand qualifications: "Well, that part is actually metaphorical...and this here is an allegory...and we need archaeology to help us understand these numbers, etc."

We commonly use the word 'literally' in the following, nuanced sense: "I didn't think you would take me literally when I said to 'go fly a kite'!" In other words, 'literal' is pitted against 'figurative'. But in literary analysis, we can speak of 'literal' as being according to the letter—i.e. the plainest meaning of the text as the original audience might understand it. Simply put, there is no consensus on what the 'literal' reading of scripture actually is. But when exegetes speak of the 'literal' reading of the text, they are really asking "What did the original author intend this to mean?"

To answer this question requires some work in determining the literary genre and normal use of vocabulary, as well as the cultural and historical context of each letter. Since Genesis was written more than 3,000 years ago, we are far removed from those contexts, and have only recently uncovered the literary world in which Genesis 1–9 was drafted. Consequently, interpretations of Genesis across history are as fluid as the nuanced usages of its vocabulary. Consider, for example, how the phrase 'And God said, “Let the water teem with living creatures..."' might sound to a 4th-century Greek fisherman versus a 21st-century American marine biologist.

Ken Ham and other young-Earth creationists (YECs) try to avoid the obscurity of ancient Near-Eastern cosmologies by committing, arbitrarily, to a flat-footed reading of the text. In other words, they demand a one-to-one correspondence between the text and its meaning. Rather than sowing confusion in throwing around the term 'literal', I would rather term this hermeneutic lexical absolutism, or simply literalism, because it appeals to modern dictionary definition over contextual meaning.

Such a distinction will require YECs to be more specific, particularly when discussing 'biblical truth'. At one point, Greg Hall complains (p. 42):

"I have heard other scholars say that “the Bible is true in all it affirms” (whatever that means)..."

What this means is that the Bible is true in what God meant it to say, not what you think it says. Despite his sarcasm, Greg applies the same principle in denying geocentricism or a flat Earth (or evolution, for that matter), because although some may use the biblical text to find support for any of the above, Greg could simply respond, "Oh, but that's not what the Bible ever intended to teach; you're twisting its words!" Fair enough. The accusation goes both ways, however, so the principle that Greg cites is, at very least, an admission that the human understanding of scripture inevitably results from a fallible, hermeneutical exercise. We affirm the inspiration, infallibility, and perspicuity of scripture by faith. But we also recognize the necessity of semper reformanda—that we should always be reforming our thought—in light of the human tendency to place tradition and personal interest above God's word. Greg continues:

'...but they go on to say that it...should be trusted only in matters of faith, not matters of science. That equivocation is heresy to me, considering that...“all Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.”'

His citation is from 2 Timothy 3:16, which is the classic prooftext for inspiration and the sufficiency of scripture to bind the Christian conscience. Paul's fourfold use of scripture here pertains specifically to matters of Christian faith, however, and not to 'matter-of-fact' statements about astronomy, geology, and biology. In the surrounding context, Paul explains to Timothy how scripture is able to make one "wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus"—a matter of faith—"so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work"—a matter of Christian practice.

One may affirm Paul's exhortation in 2 Timothy, therefore, without demanding that Genesis clarify principles of geology. So what is the motivation behind Ken's and Greg's insistence on a 'literal' reading of Genesis that places God's word at odds with the evidence from creation? I think it is to protect believers from having to engage in the origins debate properly, and deal with the theological implications of an old Earth where life evolves to diversify. But instead, it portrays the author of Genesis 1–9 as an unimaginative stenographer, rather than a deep, theological thinker, who saw history and theology as intimately connected and sought to explicate his God's redemptive work through poetic narrative.

Admitting that the latter portrait may have been responsible for the Genesis text will require some humility on our part as we try to unravel the worldview of that author. Young-Earth creationists may have the hermeneutic advantage by avoiding the hard questions, but their arbitrary simplification does not make the problems go away. It merely leads to a picture of Earth history that has less and less to do with reality, all for the sake of maintaining an "us vs. them" mentality with regard to the doctrine of creation. There is no better way, in my opinion, to compromise the minds of our young ones than to root their faith in the spurious evidence for a young Earth and a global flood.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

This review is continued in Part 2: Science vs. Religion (Departments)—which is more 'compromised' according to Ken Ham?

**A condensed version of this book review is available on Amazon, where I gave the book two stars. If you have found the discussion helpful, please vote for the review there.

Looking for a quick, eloquent explanation of evolution and common descent?

2011-07-26T23:42:00.000-07:00

Thus far, I have not commented on topics that deal with biological evolution. As stated in my introductory article, my aim was to avoid the subject—not because it is controversial, but rather because it is beyond my expertise. Nonetheless, I wanted to share some reflections from my recent attempt to better grasp the subject. At the end of this article, I have linked a helpful video that discusses the genetic evidence for common descent, and human evolution in particular. Please, check it out!

Deciphering life's message in the rocks

As a geologist, I have a vested academic interest in biological evolution. For one, I have collected thousands of fossiliferous rock samples, and want to understand why specific fossil forms appear where they do in the rock record. And although I am not a paleontologist, these concepts do intercept with my primary disciplinary focus—biogeochemistry. To be succinct, the field of biogeochemistry studies how the chemical interaction of the oceans, atmosphere, rocks, and life have shaped the history of our planet. Why did mass extinctions occur? What caused periods of warming/cooling, and how did the planet respond? How did new organisms fill the niches left vacant by the 'victims' of oceanographic and atmospheric perturbations? When and how did oxygen fill the atmosphere and, conversely, when and how did carbon dioxide become depleted? Understanding the evolution of organisms is integral to every one of these questions when examined on long-term—or geologic—timescales.

For the most part, my schooling and research has only required a modest familiarity with evolutionary processes and the fossil record. In trying to publish my most recent research, however, I had to wrestle with questions about how the ecology of Earth's oceans would respond to a world of rising oxygen, falling carbon dioxide, an increase in major nutrient (phosphate/nitrate) availability, and a decrease in redox-sensitive nutrients (e.g. iron). In other words, how did organisms evolve to survive this dramatically changing world, and what kind of chemical (e.g. isotopic) record would they leave?

I apologize for thinking out loud here in jargon-ridden phrases, but I hope you can appreciate how the major sciences intertwine, and why I am pursuing a better understanding of evolutionary theory. Yes, I have taken basic biology courses and contributed to paleontological research, but these produced more questions than they answered.

Where next?

At the same time, I am aware of the controversy surrounding evolutionary theory in the mind of the general public, and particularly within the church. Personally, I do not have any objections to accepting biological evolution (on scientific or theological grounds), but I understand why many are skeptical of evolution in general, and why others are passionately opposed to accepting any part of it (let alone have it taught to their children!). Nonetheless, I find the emotionally driven, highly polarized 'non-discussion' that takes place between evolutionary biologists and their critics to be unfortunate at best, and childish at worst. Let me give you an example.

When I began my search, I purchased two best-sellers: The Greatest Show on Earth by Richard Dawkins, and Why Evolution is True by Jerry Coyne. Yes, some might call this 'pop-science' writing, and an unusual place for a graduate student to seek science lessons. But I simply wanted to know from the start: "What do the most outspoken proponents of evolutionary theory believe is the best evidence?"

In short, I enjoyed reading both books. Their arguments transitioned smoothly from one to the next in logical fashion. When I finished, I thought: "Yeah, that sounds good. This is a well established theory." But I also felt disappointed. I had learned a majority of these arguments already, either years ago in science class or—strangely enough—while browsing through creationist literature! At very few points in each book did I come away with "Aha!" moments in response to novel explanations or examples of the evidence. That being said, Dawkins' explanation of the 'arms race' of evolutionary ecology (the 'tall forests' example), sexual selection, and DNA's role in embryology/development (the 'origami' analogy) were superb—I recommend them to any enquiring student of biology.

Unfortunately, these rather enlightening chapters were prefaced by numerous, rhetorical 'cheap shots' at creationists and an error-ridden explanation of isotopes and radiometric dating. Initially, his major defense against creationism was to call it a product of dogmatism, ignorance, and stupidity. But when Dawkins' touched on subjects that fell under my own expertise—namely, isotope geochemistry—I found that his information was erroneously translated from secondhand sources. In other words, he was arrogantly promoting false information about a subject in which he had never conducted research, because he didn't know enough to correct the errors. Not surprisingly, Dawkins can't seem to figure out why the percentage of people that reject evolution continues to grow.

Don't stop now!

Despite my criticism of Dawkins' approach (and, vicariously, many of his colleagues) to promoting evolutionary theory, my words should not be taken as an ad hominem attack on his conclusions. The evidence for common descent and biological evolution is considerable—overwhelming in some areas—and must be dealt with by any competing theory (of which there are none, currently). But if anyone is interested in convincing the public of this fact (or the church, for that matter), one must learn to address people with respect, while anticipating objections and presenting evidence against those objections. No skeptic of evolution will be convinced by the evidence from comparative anatomy and genomics, for example, if they believe that the challenge of 'irreducible complexity' is insurmountable. No skeptic of human evolution (common descent with the great apes) will be convinced by physical and genetic similarities if they believe 'common design' provides a viable, alternative explanation. Even if Dawkins is correct about evolution, he is preaching to the choir while alienating a majority of his audience.

But there is hope...

Recently, I came across the YouTube series entitled "Can an Evangelical Christian Accept Evolution?" by Dennis Venema—a biologist/geneticist at Trinity Western University and Senior Fellow of the Biologos Foundation. After reading his recent, autobiographical article at Biologos, I decided follow up on his work. I am posting the first video below in hopes that you will watch the full series (12 videos). Personally, I have never seen a better explanation of the genetic evidence for evolution. He cites original studies and presents the original data (so you can follow up on your own), while articulating each argument in an easily understandable manner. Best of all, he is respectful to the audience, their questions, and common objections to the evidence. Please, enjoy.*

*For those of you that prefer a written explanation, Dr. Venema's presentation above is taken from a 2010 ASA article (PDF found here).

Nebular hypothesis unwinds? New data recovered from the Genesis spacecraft elucidate Earth's planetisimal past

2011-07-18T00:01:00.000-07:00

Following the latest science news, Brian Thomas at ICR commented here on a recent publication in Science regarding the Nebular Hypothesis. McKeegan et al., 2011 presented oxygen isotopic data collected from solar wind by the spacecraft Genesis, which crashed into Earth in 2004 (the collectors were recovered from the wreckage, surprisingly intact). The new data suggest that the inner planets did not derive their oxygen (in the minerals, not atmosphere) from a source that was isotopically homogenous with the sun. Judging by the tone of the article at ICR—titled NASA Data Derail Nebular Hypothesis—I fully expected that our understanding of the solar system was on the verge of a paradigm shift.

But I was wrong.

The Nebular Hypothesis remains intact, only corroborated by the new data. As it turns out, Mr. Thomas understood little, if anything, from the article in Science. In a single reference to McKeegan et al. (2011), Mr. Thomas says, "The bottom line is that the sun is "highly enriched" in oxygen, and astronomers have no idea why." The original article had nothing to do with oxygen concentrations, however, but with isotopic abundances. In other words, the sun is enriched in the ratio of 16O (light oxygen) to 17O and 18O (heavy oxygen)—not in oxygen itself. Second, the whole point of the article was to explain that we do know why the enrichment occurs. We just didn't know how much, because until now, nobody had been able to directly measure oxygen isotopes in solar materials.

The sun is enriched in the lighter oxygen isotope because of mass-dependent fractionation—a process in which one isotope is favored simply because it is heavier or lighter. One earthly example is the evaporation of water: the light isotope (16O) is preferentially evaporated because it is lighter. Therefore, rainwater is 'isotopically depleted' with respect to seawater. In the sun, a process called inefficient Coulomb drag causes lighter isotopes to concentrate in the sun's edge (i.e. the source of solar wind) and heavier isotopes to concentrate nearer the core. As an aside, the isotopic discrepancy is less for heavier elements because the relative difference in mass decreases (e.g. heavy hydrogen is twice the mass of light hydrogen, whereas heavy oxygen is only 12.5% heavier than light oxygen, etc.).

In the inner solar system, where the rocky planets formed, "isotope-selective self-shielding during ultraviolet (UV) photolysis of CO" caused—and still causes—planetisimal source material to become enriched in heavier oxygen isotopes with respect to the solar mass (McKeegan et al., 2011). In fact, this model accurately predicted the new data collected by Genesis.

I would suggest, therefore, that Mr. Thomas jumped too hastily to his conclusion that "the nebular hypothesis is dead...and only supernatural beginnings can account for the peculiarities of the solar system, including the unique amounts of oxygen contained in the sun, planets, and moons." Moreover, this 'God of the Gaps' addendum to the non sequitur resulting from his misreading of McKeegan et al.'s is neither helpful nor convincing (I know, that's a mouthful). Presumably, by "supernatural beginnings", Mr. Thomas is referring to the sudden appearance of fully formed planets and a sun less than 10,000 years ago. But how can this arbitrary and unsupported proposition aid our investigation of the solar system? (By unsupported, I mean absent even from the text of Scripture.)

Not surprisingly, Mr. Thomas and other YEC proponents are confident they can explain any new piece of data. But their ability to explain new data retrospectively does not arise from the scientific, predictive power of YEC. Rather, it arises from the fact that YEC offers no definitive expectations. If the sun's isotopic composition turns out to be X, it is because God created it that way; if the isotopic composition is Y, it is because God created it that way. Mr. Thomas did not explain how the new isotopic data "lead to a purpose-minded designer," despite his likening them to "forensic clues". He merely stated, mistakenly, that the data contradict part of the Nebular Hypothesis.

So, we can all put our minds at ease. The new oxygen isotopic data presented by McKeegan et al. (2011) not only corroborate the Nebular Hypothesis, but allow scientists to estimate the average oxygen isotopic composition of the primordial solar system! And if that doesn't just double your pulse with an astronomical dose of adrenaline, then you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. In fact, you should probably check your pulse anyways...in case you are dying from boredom. Until next time!

Sediment transport during the Flood: qualitative appendix to a quantitative assessment

2011-06-24T16:47:00.000-07:00

Did the Noachian Flood deposit the sediments that comprise a bulk of the geologic column? To most of the general public, this might seem a naïve and unsupported hypothesis that was debunked more than 200 years ago. But recent promoters of Flood geology have worked hard to convince Christians that geology still supports the notion of a recent creation and global flood. John Whitcomb and Henry Morris are perhaps best known for reviving the answer to this question in the affirmative, which they expounded in their 1961 publication The Genesis Flood.

Before Whitcomb and Morris, however, Christians had long postulated (i.e. since the early church) that the Flood might explain fossiliferous sediments found high above sea level today. In fact, the ancient Greeks were torn on the issue of whether fossils were remnants of living organisms—in part because they knew of no mechanism that could turn life into stone—and whether the sea had transgressed the land (how would you argue, if you were in their shoes?). Some of the early church fathers offered Noah's flood as a viable explanation to the Greek dilemma. The debate continued until Steno—who finally proved the biogenic origin of fossils to the satisfaction of the scientific community—but early geologists were still unsure how sedimentation worked, and particularly how sedimentary rocks bearing marine fossils could form on mountains! Consequently, Medieval natural philosophers were also inclined to characterize geologic formations in terms of their relation to a global flood in Noah's day.

Were these early hypotheses about Earth history born out of ignorance or incompetence? Not at all. Natural philosophers from Aristotle to Steno did the best they could with the evidence available to them. The only event in history they knew that could bury so many organisms under so much sediment was the Noachian flood. The fact that we were born, coincidentally, many centuries after the tough questions in geology have already been answered does not entitle us to arrogance, or to take pride in 'knowing better' today.

A modern approach to the age-old question

How much sediment could a global flood actually deposit? Early geologists could not answer this question in a quantitative sense. Neither did they know exactly how much sedimentary rock covered the Earth. But after more than a century of exploration and decades of flume experiments, we can at least begin to offer a quantitative assessment.

Sedimentary Rock Inventory

What is the total mass of sedimentary rock on Earth? The exact figure is unknown, but Drever et al. (1988) offered a reasonable estimate that is widely accepted:

Total Mass of Sedimentary Rock: 2.5±0.4 x 10^21 kg

Of which, 0.12 x 10^21 kg (5% of total) lay at the bottom of the oceans today.

Mudstones comprise the majority of this total, followed by carbonates, sandstones, and evaporites. Since sedimentary rock is recycled at plate boundaries (subduction zones), this mass is primarily comprised of Phanerozoic (Cambrian–Recent) sediments, which are considered to be 'Flood' rocks by most YEC's (e.g. Holt, 1996; Froede and Reed, 1999; Oard and Klevberg, 2008).

Could a year-long flood have deposited some 2 billion billion tons of sediment? Let's start small, and answer this question in pieces.

Sediment Transport and the Coconino Sandstone: a quantitative assessment

Since young-Earth geologists must consider 'Flood' rocks as water-lain, formations like the Coconino Sandstone—considered to be an eolian (desert, windblown) deposit—must be reinterpreted to fit the Flood model. In response to an article that appeared in Creation Magazine (Snelling, 1992), Greg Neyman argued strongly that such efforts are misguided and ignorant of the physical evidence (Neyman, 2003). Every detail of the Coconino Sandstone corroborates the conventional hypothesis: the sediments were deposited slowly in a long-lived desert that covered much of the western United States.

Tim Helble, a hydrologist, took the argument a step further (technical article available here). If we assume, for the sake of discussion, that the Coconino Sandstone was deposited under water, we can use sedimentary structures (like cross-bedding) to calculate the rate of sediment transport to the site of deposition. In other words, how long would it take just to move all the sand needed to form the Coconino Sandstone? Find out below, in this well-organized slideshow created by Tim:

Were Earth's Sedimentary Rock Layers Really Deposited by Noah's Flood?

View more presentations from Tim Helble

Keep in mind that this presentation only raises part of the problem: the transport of sandy sediment to the site of deposition. Additional questions remain, which young-Earth geologists must (but cannot) answer. What was the source of such relatively pure and homogenous, quartzose sand in a heavily vegetated, pre-Flood Earth? Why would such rapid and catastrophic deposition result in a formation that is devoid of body fossils from plants/animals (including teeth, vertebrae, and other sand-sized bones)? How could animals leave trace fossils (footprints) if the water was flowing several meters per second? Why doesn't the Coconino Sandstone contain large rip-up clasts from the underlying Hermit Shale (the contact is flat, and even contains mudcracks filled in by sand from the Coconino)?

Finally, the Coconino Sandstone is just one example from the American southwest, and comprises a minor portion of the regional stratigraphy. Mesozoic examples from the Colorado Plateau include the much larger Navajo Sandstone, as well as the Wingate and Dakota sandstones. Why do young-Earth geologists (e.g. Morris, 2010) still insist that these giant formations were laid down in a matter of days, contrary to all the evidence? Because the young-Earth, biblical hermeneutic is remarkably rigid and unrelenting. Though designed to protect the faith from modernism and liberalism, it rather prevents YEC's from witnessing the full beauty of God's creation, while leaving modernism/liberalism unscathed.

Andrew Snelling 'responds'

Although Snelling (2008) does not respond directly to the challenges above, he did provide some comfort to his readers in the form of misdirection. Snelling conveniently ignores the problem of sediment transport by attempting to turn it around on "slow and gradual" geologists. He argues that since the Coconino Sandstone contains detrital zircons from the Appalachians, the situation "poses somewhat of a dilemma...because no known sediment transport system is capable of carrying sand across the entire North American continent during the required millions of years."

Ironically, Dr. Snelling proves the impossibility of such transport with a geographic map of modern North America, on which the Mississippi River drainage basin currently covers most of the continental U.S.! As it turns out, water tends to move downhill, and rivers are perfectly capable of carrying sediments from distant mountain belts to low-lying deserts and coastal plains. During the late Paleozoic and Mesozoic, the Colorado Plateau was near sea-level, and rivers flowed from the Appalachian Range out west toward Nevada (opposite of today). But Snelling continues:

"It must have been water over an area even bigger than the continent. All they can do is postulate that some unknown transcontinental river system must have done the job. But even in their scientific belief system of earth history, it is impossible for such a river to have persisted for millions of years."

Why must water cover an area bigger than the continent for mineral grains to be transported cross-country? Fragments of the Rocky Mountains can be found in the Mississippi River delta today. But I've driven across Colorado and am happy to report: it's not submerged in water!

Sand-sized grains in modern deserts (e.g. Sahara, Gobi, Great Victorian) are commonly sourced from both near and far. The discovery that the Coconino and Navajo sandstones derived some of their material from hundreds of miles distant is hardly surprising. Furthermore, river systems are not always a necessary transport mechanism, since prevailing winds may accomplish the same under favorable conditions (if even from one side of the desert to another). Lastly, I would challenge Dr. Snelling to explain why a continental river system (e.g. Mississippi, Nile, Amazon) could not persist for millions of years. This statement is complete fluff to divert readers' attention from the real issue: even a global flood could not deposit the great sandstones of the Colorado Plateau in less than a year.

Rapidly deposited stratigraphy at Mt. St. Helens

The landscape evolution around Mt. St. Helens has been a favorite topic of young-Earth geologists. In fact, Dr. Steve Austin and others recently led a GSA field trip to the volcano (summary here from Dr. Austin; response here from one attendee), in part to show how rapidly sedimentation and erosion can take place. The unstated argument is as follows:

The eruption at Mt. St. Helens proved deposition and erosion are not always gradual. How effectively, then, could a global flood account for Phanerozoic sediments and subsequent erosion (e.g. Grand Canyon)?

Austin and others thus relied on a subtle 'hook, line, and sinker' tactic to reel others into their own way of thinking (the tactic is more explicit in creationist literature, of course). Nonetheless, they did not fabricate the data. In less than 30 years, Mt. St. Helens did produce thick bodies of fine-laminated sediments, bury entire forests, and carve out a large canyon. So why are 'conventional' geologists yet unconvinced by the arguments of Austin (1986)?

Greg Neyman (2005) answered this question succinctly and accurately: the events at Mt. St. Helens are easily incorporated into uniformitarian models of Earth history, because volcanic eruptions are an 'everyday' part of Earth cycles, geologically speaking. Geologists do not rule out the possibility of rapid deposition/erosion a priori, but rather use the scientific method to treat each case individually (gathering data to falsify or corroborate the initial hypothesis). Consequently, many examples of rapid deposition are known from the geologic column—from tsunami and submarine landslide deposits to meteor impacts to megafloods. On the other hand, young-Earth geologists do rule out the possibility of slow deposition a priori, and commonly distort the facts to corroborate their misguided antithesis.

So how do we tell the difference? Austin (1986) reported:

"[Mt. St. Helens] deposits include fine pumice ash laminae and beds from one millimeter thick to greater than one meter thick, each representing just a few seconds to several minutes of accumulation. A deposit accumulated in less than one day, on June 12, 1980, is 25 feet thick and contains many thin laminae and beds. Conventionally, sedimentary laminae and beds are assumed to represent longer seasonal variations, or annual changes, as the layers accumulated very slowly."

Despite his effort to the contrary, Dr. Austin thus provides good reason to accept conventional age assignments for the geologic column, and interpretations regarding its deposition. Consider the following:

1) Deposits around Mt. St. Helens are rich in volcanic glass and minerals, unlike a majority of fine-laminated mudstones in the geologic record. No geologist denies that volcanic ash can be deposited rapidly—in a matter of hours or even minutes.

2) Fine-grained sand and mud is also known to accumulate rapidly under favorable circumstances (e.g. submarine density flows). But the result is a thin-bedded mudstone that forms unique contacts with the underlying sediment (resembling flame structures) or even antidunes. Shale, on the other hand, forms when relatively flat clay minerals are preferentially oriented as they accumulate slowly in still waters. Both examples are found in the sedimentary rock record (though more commonly the latter), so geologists are not challenged by Austin's claim.

3) Sedimentary structures aside, rapidly deposited mudstones cannot be traced over large distances (such as in the Green River Formation, or even the Bright Angel Shale). Instead, thin beds and laminae will 'pinch out', or disappear laterally, as seen in the Mt. St. Helens' deposits or the experiments of Berthault (summarized by Snelling, 1997).

4) Sometimes, thin laminae result from seasonal effects on the basin (e.g. stratification and overturn of a large lake). But geologists do not simply assume this to be the case. Rather, they use mineralogical, paleontological, and geochemical criteria to distinguish seasonal varves from other phenomena. For example, the concentration of organic matter will vary significantly in varves, along with the carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen isotopic signatures. Major and trace element concentrations should also vary, reflecting a difference in climatic conditions and sediment source during each season (sediments from oxic, river water vs. sediments in the oxygen-poor, deep water). The example of Austin (1986) has absolutely nothing to do with varve interpretation.

5) A 25-foot deposit is impressive, especially for having formed in less than a day, but the sediment transport mechanism is unique to volcanic eruptions: a high-density ash flow. As Tim Helble's presentation demonstrates, similar transport rates in submarine conditions will not produce the sedimentary structures (esp. cross bedding) seen throughout the geologic column.

6) Once again, 25-feet is a lot of sediment. But in some places, Phanerozoic sediments are more than 5 miles thick, not including the sediment removed by unconformities! Austin's explanation would require deposition to occur at several times the rate seen at Mt. St. Helens, every day, for an entire year, while sorting thousands of fossil assemblages into precise, stratigraphic intervals. The stratigraphy of Mt. St. Helens does not provide a viable analog for this speculative, impossible scenario.

Heterogeneity of the Geologic Column: a qualitative appendix

The two examples above provide YEC's with the best possible data to explain sedimentary strata in terms of rapid deposition. Large sandstone units like the Coconino and Navajo contain obvious evidence of fluid flow, which is ubiquitous throughout the formations. Likewise, sedimentary structures in deposits around Mt. St. Helens are relatively homogenous. Whether slow or fast, a single mechanism seems to be responsible for the deposition of each unit.

By mechanism, I am actually referring to what is called the flow regime. A flow regime is defined by the physical characteristics of the fluid: how deep was the fluid and how fast was it moving? Based on flume experiments, geologists can interpret the flow regime using grain size and sedimentary structures (e.g. as was done for the Coconino Sandstone in the slide presentation above). Conversely, variations in grain size and sedimentary structures indicate when the flow regime changed during deposition, and by how much.

A quick look at strata in the Grand Canyon reveals that even if deposition were rapid and catastrophic, the flow regime must have changed many times. Below is a picture of the Supai Group, comprised of alternating limestone, shale, siltstone, and sandstone.

View from the South Rim. Late Paleozoic strata from the Supai Group in the foreground.

Whatever mechanism was responsible for deposition, the depth, direction, and rate of flow must have changed many times to produce such a heterogeneous body of sediment. Moreover, the respective sediment sources must have been geographically distinct (i.e. limestone from one region; quartz sand from another). There is no reason, hydrodynamically, that carbonate sediments would separate from siliciclastics, particularly because carbonate grains range in size from clay (micritic mud) to sand (ooids) to pebbles (shells, intraclasts and oncoids). But if the flow regime and sediment source were highly variable over the duration of the Flood, why do we find sand, shale, and carbonate bodies like these that can be correlated across continents?

Microfacies of Carbonate Rocks

Austin (1990), and a feedback article from Creation magazine, posited that thick layers of carbonate rock (limestone, dolostone) were also deposited rapidly. Austin (1990) said that prevailing currents during the Flood may have transported massive quantities lime mud and its constituents from the sea to the continents. He even cites evidence of fluid flow that is meant to contradict that conventional interpretation of limestone formations in the Grand Canyon. His understanding seems to be, however, that according to conventional geology, all limestone was deposited in "calm, placid seas."

This generalization is misleading, since most limestones are interpreted to have been deposited in very shallow water (less than 200 meters, but usually less than 10 meters). Carbonate sediments are just as susceptible, therefore, to waves and currents. Consequently, most ancient limestones contain sedimentary structures like cross-bedding, horizontal bedding, mud drapes, and rip-up clasts. Others contain evidence of subaerial exposure (dissolution cavities, mudcracks) or long-term interaction with microorganisms (microbialites, stromatolites, thrombolites, oncoids, bioturbation). Carbonate rocks are thus divided into microfacies, based on composition, structure, and fossils. Each microfacies reflects different conditions (water depth, velocity, salinity, etc.) at the time of deposition.

Below is a combination of two photos taken near Timpanogos Cave, Utah (my apologies for no scale; each photo covers a little more than 1 square foot). In the photo on the left, the upper layer contains rip-up clasts (>2 cm diameter) of lime mud. The name of this rock is intraclastic rudstone. For mud clasts to be incorporated, the sediment had to be deposited 1) in a current; and 2) within proximity to a layer of weakly cemented (and dried) lime mud. But if the current were too strong, the finer-grained matrix (i.e. the dark material between mud clasts) would have remained in suspension. If the fragile mud clasts came from a long distance, they would have been destroyed during transport. Modern, shallow, carbonate platforms provide a viable analog for this type of deposition (specifically, the intertidal zone). Flood geology, on the other hand, finds itself in a conundrum. Why does the intraclastic rudstone comprise such a thin layer, distinct in every physical aspect from the surrounding carbonate sediments, if sediments were being deposited so rapidly? What is the source of these fragile mud clasts if the whole land was submerged?

Carbonate rocks near Timpanogos Cave, Utah, illustrating the microscale, sedimentological diversity of carbonate rocks. Each photo is approximately 1 square foot.

In the photo on the right, thin bedding is visible in the top and bottom layers, indicative of gentle currents that sorted the fine-sand-sized particles. In the middle, a coarse shell hash represents higher energy conditions, but with little sorting of the grains, which range from less than 1 mm to more than 2 centimeters across. The dark-gray/tan bed near the bottom is an oolitic packstone—a somewhat muddy, carbonate beach sand. Each facies suggests deposition in the shallow subtidal zone (<10 meters water depth at any time; below low tide), where sand bars constantly prograde across the shallow platform. Once again, Flood geology cannot account for the sedimentological diversity of this rock, because rapid deposition cannot separate these sediments with such precise detail in a matter of minutes.

Conclusion

Only long-term, prevailing currents can deposit homogeneous sediments (like the Coconino) across the face of a continent in a global flood scenario. In response, YEC's propose that large-scale, regional currents were responsible for depositing extensive, tabular beds of sandstone, shale, and limestone. But such currents cannot account for the heterogeneity found in the layers of the Bright Angel Shale, Supai Group, and other formations. Consequently, YEC's must also argue that repeated transgression, regression, and periods of 'stand-still' occurred amid the flood, wherein sediments of differing clast size and composition could be deposited between larger waves. But if continuous, prevailing currents are not sufficient even to carry the sediment required even for the 150–500 foot-thick Coconino Sandstone within a full year, how can Flood geologists explain the remaining miles of sediment in the Colorado Plateau?

The challenge grows immensely when one examines the microscale heterogeneity in sedimentary rocks (carbonates in particular). Catastrophic, sediment-choked currents would have had zero time to slow down, change directions, or stop completely. Therefore, Flood geology cannot satisfactorily explain the range of geological data as a unified theory. But unfortunately, Flood geologists continue to mislead amateur readers by explaining various phenomena in isolation from the relevant data. The result is a confused populace, seeking only to reconcile their faith with the facts of nature. Such misplaced trust is unhealthy, in my opinion, for the future of public/private education, the scientific community, and especially for the church.

References Cited (but not linked):

Drever, J.I., Li, Y.-H., and Maynard, J.B., 1988, Geochemical Cycles: The Continental Curst and the Oceans, in Gregor, C.B., Garrels, R.M., Mackenzie, F.T., Maynard, J.B., [editors], Chemical Cycles in the Evolution of the Earth: John Wiley & Sons, New York, 276 p.

Grand Canyon, AZ to Logan, UT — A Geology Photo Tour

2011-06-23T00:34:00.000-07:00

I've decided that this blog has too many words!

So to compensate, I have littered this post with geology-related photos from the past month. These pictures are in no particular order (chronological, geographic, or even logical), so forgive the randomness. Click on the pictures to view in full size. Also, please feel free to share, but link to the original source if applicable. Enjoy!

Antelope Island, Utah

Antelope Island is well known for its population of American Bison. This bison is grazing on vegetation that is growing in Holocene lake sediments, which formed during Lake Bonneville's life and fall (esp. ~12,000 B.C. to present). Quartzite boulders, like those in the background, litter the landscape, and have eroded from nearby outcrops of the Cambrian Tintic Quartzite (equivalent to the Tapeats Sandstone of the Grand Canyon). If Lake Bonneville were to refill, large boulders such as these would be found amid 'calm-water' sediments. These sediments overly much older sedimentary/igneous rock, but are separated from them by an erosional unconformity. A similar phenomenon is found at the base of the Grand Canyon, where Proterozoic Quartzite boulders are cited as evidence for catastrophic deposition by young-Earth (Flood) geologists.

The bedrock of Anteleope Island ranges in age from Mesoproterozoic, igneous basement (Farmington Canyon Complex) to Cambrian sedimentary rocks. Sandwiched somewhere in the middle (and beneath the bison in this photo) is a Neoproterozoic diamictite. This particular diamictite preserved evidence of glaciation from one of the Cryogenian 'Snowball Earth' events, during which glaciation extended to the tropics. At that time, Utah formed the northern shore of a large, equatorial continent.

A granodioritic gneiss boulder of the ~1.8 billion-year-old Farmington Canyon Complex, which comprises the basal outcrop of the Wasatch Range and a bulk of the basement rock for northern Utah.

Eastern shores of Antelope Island, and a great example of Walther's Law of Facies in action. As the lake recedes, marshland will advance over what used to be shoreline and lake-bottom sediments. Thus a geologic cross section of the region will reveal a transition from fine-grained, calcareous mudstone to oolitic sandstone to organic-rich, calcareous siltstone with fragments of grasses/shrubs. Each layer will appear to be flat, when in fact deposition occurred in adjacent environments on a gentle slope.

Why are sedimentary rocks so flat? Despite the relief generated by the bounding mountain ranges, most sedimentary basins are extremely flat. Since topographic highs (i.e. mountain ranges) provide sediment to the basin, they will not be preserved in the geologic record, except as detrital fragments in the valley sediments. With the aid of radiometric dating, geologists study the composition of sedimentary rocks through time to reconstruct the tectonic (or structural) history of a sedimentary basin.

Shoreline sands in the Great Salt Lake are comprised of oolitic carbonate (i.e. tiny snowballs of calcium carbonate). Minor sand bars, seen above in the foreground, will form thin sets of oolitic grainstone (limestone) with low-angle cross bedding. Thin lenses of silty mudstone should also form between bed sets, as wind and stagnant water cover the sand with dust between storms. Avian footprints are common on the beach (namely, seagull). Although wave action commonly erases the visible evidence, prints of the heavier gulls will be preserved a few centimeters below the surface as carbonate grains/mud are compacted beneath their feet. One time, I found the fully articulated skeleton of a seagull (meat-free, but a few feathers still intact) buried in the carbonate sand. How are bird skeletons (e.g. Archaeopteryx) preserved in lake carbonates? Now I know! Fossilization requires 'rapid' burial, but not that rapid.

Bingham Canyon Copper Mine (Rio Tinto/Kennecott), Utah

Difficult to describe or capture in a single photograph. This mine is big— the largest open-pit copper mine in the world, in fact. In addition to copper, the mine produces economical supplies of gold, molybdenum, and sulfuric acid. Yes, I learned that from the video in the visitor's center...and a personal tour through the core lab!

Up, down, up, down—non-stop delivery of ore and waste. Note the bulldozer and full-size pickup for scale.

Timpanogos Caves, Utah

American Fork Canyon, as seen from the entrance to Timpanogos Caves. When the caves first formed (some half a million years ago), they were at the same elevation as the river. Coincident uplift of the Wasatch Range and downcutting of the river, however, have since separated the two by ~1,000 vertical feet. Flowstone and riverine sediments within the cave were dated to estimate rates of uplift (less than 1 mm/year, on average).

Helictites and soda-straw stalactites. Variations in climatic conditions (temperature, humidity, precipitation, soil activity) can affect the rate of dripwater flow and calcite precipitation within a cave. This results in seemingly stochastic growth patterns for individual speleothems, pictured above.

When the tour began, we were asked: "What would you do if you found a cave like this for the first time?" I responded, "Take samples!" I don't think the tour guide like my response, but I make no apologies. I would love to take either of these currently forming stalagmites back home with me—well, to the lab, that is. Each stalagmite is about 1.5–2 meters tall.

The inevitable collision course of speleothem formation. Some things just don't last forever...

The closest thing left to 'pristine beauty' in Timpanogos Caves. Not much else to say, except that the 'night' setting on my wife's camera added a very special effect from the artificial lamp placed by the park service.

Brecciation and recrystallization of the host carbonate. When these rocks were deeply buried, the weight of overlying sediment caused the brittle carbonates to fracture. Subsequent fluid flow allowed for the reprecipitation of relatively pure, white calcite (compared to the dark, organic-rich limestone/dolostone surrounding). In other words, these rocks have been lithified for a very long time.

East Canyon Reservoir, Utah

A great day of fishing, interrupted briefly by a dark rain cloud. The positioning of the cloud caused the Wasatch Range (background) to appear rather surreal.

The red conglomerates that outcrop near I-80/I-84 in northeastern Utah are synorogenic to the Sevier Fold-Thrust Belt—a mountain range that runs north-south through northern Utah, southern Idaho, and western Wyoming. During the Late Mesozoic, sedimentary rocks in this region were 'squeezed' together by tectonic forces, causing them to be folded and thrust on top of each other (see cross section here for a more graphic depiction). Pebbles and boulders that comprise the conglomerate above are weathered fragments of earlier Mesozoic and Paleozoic rocks. In other words, the underlying rock layers must have been fully lithified before this conglomerate was deposited in the Late Cretaceous. Since that time, more than a mile of Cenozoic sediments accumulated over the conglomerate before it was exposed here. Synorogenic deposits provide the clearest evidence, I think, for the antiquity of the geologic column.

Cache Valley (Logan), Utah

May in Cache Valley: ample snowmelt for the summer.

Fault scarps and lacustrine (lake shore) benches are common sights along the Wasatch Range. Can you pick them out?

Layton, Utah

View south toward the Oquirrh Mountains (west of Salt Lake City), which overlook Magna, UT and the south end of the Great Salt Lake.

The windows of heaven. Antelope Island seen at the bottom right.

Grand Canyon (south rim), Arizona

Outcrop of the Kaibab Limestone, which was deposited in shallow marine conditions during the Permian (~260 million years ago). Four different carbonate lithofacies can be seen in this photo alone, each representing a different depositional environment and different flow regime (i.e. water depth/velocity). The heterogeneity of Grand Canyon sediments has long been overlooked by Flood geologists, who have mistakenly proposed that catastrophic slurries of lime mud and seashells could account for thick carbonates like the Kaibab. Each carbonate layer above differs in 1) grain size and composition, 2) clay vs. carbonate content, 3) cement type and composition, and 4) fossil type and abundance. These differences cannot be explained by hydrodynamic sorting alone (many features, like oncoids, result from algae/bacteria living in the sediments for years). Sedimentary structures provide evidence of weak tides and waves, or even subaerial exposure, but not catastrophic flow in deeper water.

Supai Group (late Mississippian to early Permian). The 'step-like' slope at the base of the picture results from alternating fine and course-grained carbonates and mudstones of the Watahomigi Formation. The cyclic pattern is interpreted to result from 1) long-term variations in sea-level; 2) progradation of carbonate sand bars (think modern Caribbean); or 3) (more likely) a combination of the two. The semi-arid climate of southern Nevada has similarly produced excellent exposures of cyclic carbonates, bearing testimony to a time when a dynamic sea transgressed most of the western United States.

Well, that's all for now! Perhaps I should do this more often? Geology is always explained most effectively by pictures, in my opinion. I welcome any feedback (or corrections?) or additional photos that you'd like to share. Again, please feel free to share any pictures you find here, but link to the original source if applicable (i.e. if reposted online).

Coming up short: Coal beds and the "Pre-Flood Biomass"

2011-06-15T23:08:00.000-07:00

One remarkable topic within Flood geology is that of the pre-Flood biomass—that is, the total mass of organisms (alive or dead) on Earth before Noah's flood. In addition to explaining a water source to cover the whole Earth and a sediment source to supply the Phanerozoic rock column, young-Earth geologists must also explain how the entirety of fossilized organisms existed simultaneously on Earth at the onset of the Flood. Impossible, you say? In Flood geology, there is always an explanation.

I won't delve into the details of young-Earth arguments, however, because I don't think it is necessary. In short, Flood geologists believe that all fossils* (from frustules to shells to molds to bones) represent organisms that were alive or recently deceased when Noah's flood began (e.g. Snelling tackles the chalk issue here; see also Greg Neyman's brilliant, succinct response here). Petroleum reservoirs (coal, oil, and gas) are also assumed to be dominantly biogenic, and thus from pre-Flood plants, algae, bacteria, etc. Adding up these figures would result in a rather crowded planet, but Flood geologists assure us that climatic conditions prior to the flood were more favorable to life than today, and so Earth could accomodate such a population.

Supplying the world with coal

Dr. Andrew Snelling reviewed the particular case of coal in an article posted here from 1986. Although he concludes that Earth could sustain forests capable of supplying the world's coal reserves, his argument assumes some rather arbitrary or inaccurate conditions. For example, he uses a compaction ratio of less than 2:1 from vegetation to coal, meaning that it would take less than 2 meters of raw vegetation to produce 1 meter of coal. His reasoning was based on "modern research," which "shows that less than two metres of vegetation are needed to make one metre of coal," but he fails to cite the supposed research. As it turns out, the compaction ratio of peat to coal is much lower than geologists originally thought, but peat—essentially a type of soil—is very different, qualitatively, from catastrophically buried, raw vegetation.

Dr. Snelling also supposes that the pre-Flood land surface was approximately twice that of today. "If then this vast land area was under lush vegetation," he says, "then we can account for 100% of the known coal reserves." But this scenario is not only falsified by Precambrian stratigraphy (which is dominantly marine and quite extensive), but would result in a far more arid landscape (i.e. less ocean = fewer big storms; greater average distance to water = more continentality). Vapor canopy, you say? We'll leave that one to the jury.

An article by Gerhard Schönknecht (1997; posted by CMI) analyzed the problem with more depth and honesty, but still relied on highly improbable conditions (e.g. 40% thick-forest cover over the entire Earth; near perfect preservation). Could a pre-Flood biomass account for all the coal beds on Earth? Well, perhaps...but as I said, that question is rather inconsequential to a much larger problem.

Carbon conundrum

Discussions on whether a pre-Flood biomass could supply organic carbon to the world's coal reserves are simply misguided. Why? After explaining the origin of coal, one must account for the organic carbon in all other petroleum resources, from oil to asphalt to natural gas. Furthermore, one should account for the fact that most oil/gas/coal was never preserved or has been eroded out since deposition.

After these masses are summed, one should factor in that this accounts for only 0.13% of all organic matter buried in sedimentary rocks (nearly every sedimentary rock contains some organic matter, if only 0.01%).

So where did all the carbon come from? Ultimately, today, it comes from CO2 in the atmosphere. Can we assume photosynthesis occurred before the flood? If so, the drawdown would have been so great that one must posit an extraordinary source of carbon, several thousands of times larger than today, to the atmosphere. Flood geologists have yet to create a viable, pre-Flood carbon cycle that explains both fossil biomass and isotopic values of organic matter and carbonates.

The real 'pre-Flood biomass'

How much organic carbon is actually in the geologic column? Holser et al. (1988) provided the following estimates:

Fossil Fuels:
Bitumen (recoverable coal/oil/gas): 11,400 Gigatons Carbon

Other Sediments:

Pelagic ocean sediments: 756,000 Gigatons Carbon
Unlithified shelf/slope sediments: 4,400,000 Gigatons Carbon
Sedimentary rocks: 9,000,000 Gigatons Carbon

Total Exogenic Organic Carbon: 14,160,000 Gigatons Carbon!

Let's compare that to nowadays:

Modern Biomass (living and dead): 4,400 Gigatons Carbon

In other words, the amount of organic carbon on the surface of the Earth is more than 3,000 times that found in the entire modern biomass. If every organism on Earth (dead and alive) was suddenly buried in a flood and swept to the bottom of the ocean, the amount of organic carbon transported to the deep ocean would equal less than 1/170th the amount already buried in its sediments.

Might I suggest approaching Genesis with a less anachronistic and lexically rigid hermeneutic?

*Although I say "all" fossils and petroleum reservoirs, it depends on where one assigns the 'pre-Flood' and 'post-Flood' boundaries. To be fair/accurate, I should say Cambrian–Cretaceous at minimum, but I think the point is inconsequential to my argument.

References Cited:

Holser, W.T., Schidlowski, M., Mackenzie, F.T., Maynard, J.B., 1988, Biogeochemical Cycles of Carbon and Sulfur, in Gregor, C.B., Garrels, R.M., Mackenzie, F.T., Maynard, J.B., [editors], Chemical Cycles in the Evolution of the Earth: John Wiley & Sons, New York, 276 p.

Finding Noah, then and now: Part 2—"When and where did Noah sail his ark?"

2011-06-08T15:57:00.000-07:00

Introduction

Thus far, I have reiterated how the flood narrative of Genesis 6–9 was used exegetically as a type for creation and judgment, and more specifically for God's redemption through Christ. The story fits canonically within the broader context of the Torah, linking God's work in the Exodus with that from antiquity. Because of its mirrored relationship to the creation narrative (Gen. 1–3), the story of Noah also provides an appropriate analog for God's imminent and future judgment throughout the Bible, as well as His means of salvation.

Few Christians would disagree, I think, on these basic points. More spirited debate has focused rather on the narrative's place in history, including its relationship to the facts of geology. Young (1995) chronicled how the church's perception of the flood has changed repeatedly in light of new evidence from science—from Aristotle to Steno to Hutton to modern geology. Universal agreement on the historical and scientific implications of the Genesis narrative has never existed in the life of the church, and today is no exception. In addition, numerous expeditions have produced more fanciful stories than remnants of the ark. Did the ark ever exist, or have we simply been looking in the wrong place?

Quests for the ark—today, in history, and in geology—are intimately linked to our understanding of the text. Those convinced of a global flood in the text will search for evidence in rocks around the world. Conversely, those convinced of only local floods in the rocks will search for supporting evidence in the text. Reconciling both records is not easy, and I admit my own bias in the process. But this bias is universal and unavoidable, even to critics of the biblical narrative. One can not presume to have a final answer without demonstrating how the same conclusion may be drawn independently from all disciplines. Thus I hope you will give me credit here, if nothing else, for trying to be consistent.

As a geologist, I recognize that there is no evidence of a global flood in Earth history. Neither is there evidence of a global interruption to human civilization in the last 10,000 years. Thus I have used this blog to highlight the shortcomings of Flood geology, and demonstrate where its hypotheses have been thoroughly falsified. I have done this primarily to call others to academic (and Christian) honesty, and so I welcome the same feedback. For those interested in further reading—or yet unconvinced by my own analysis—I highly recommend The Bible, Rocks and Time by Young and Stearley (2004; or start with a helpful review of the book here).

Though you may not share my conclusions about the geological and archaeological evidence against a global flood, I will assume them here as being well established and encourage you to pursue that issue further. My goal here is to examine 1) whether the biblical text requires a 'global-flood' interpretation; and 2) whether the flood narrative may be identified in history, archaeology, and geology. By way of preface, I generally agree with Dr. Carol Hill's conclusions about Noah in history (2001; article found here) and her comments on the text (2002; article found here).

I also cite two other papers by Carol and her husband (Hill, C.A. 2006; Hill, A.E., 2006) that examined the hydrology of a catastrophic flood in Mesopotamia. I came across their work after I began to write Part 2 of this series, and was thoroughly impressed. The articles are well thought out, and deserve the attention of anyone seriously interested in the historical question of Noah. I will reiterate some of their arguments below, adding my own thoughts between, but I should admit up front that I can offer little more, academically, than they have produced.

Israel retells the story of Noah: polemical historiography in the heart of Canaan

Stories about the past are told to comment on the present, in an effort to better write the future. In this sense, historiography in general—and biblical narrative in particular—is not merely an intellectual quest, but often pastoral and even eschatological. By reminding us where we've been or whence we came, stories tell us where we ought to be and how to get there. That doesn't mean we can't discern the historical referents, but it does make the quest more challenging.

Contrary to subconscious perception, the story of Noah was written for an audience far removed from our own culture. The author of Genesis took a well known history and recast it as an apologetic for the covenant God of Israel, over against those of the surrounding nations (Enns, 2005). Everyone knew the story of the flood, but Israel's neighbors had long credited pagan gods with the events. The flood narrative in Genesis thus served in part to tell Israel that God had been at work since the beginning—long before Moses or even Abrahaam. Moreover, He acted then for Noah just as he had acted for them in Egypt. The covenant God of Israel would not tolerate wickedness, violence, and idolatry among His covenant people. But at the same time, He would act on behalf of those faithful to Him, providing both the means of atonement and deliverance for His people—then in the form of an ark; now in the tabernacle.

The tale of Noah is not just history, it is historiography. These events are retold with specific motives; the author has an agenda. When the story is placed canonically within the Pentateuch, we find how the author has made his case that YHWH, the covenant God of Israel, deserves worship and praise, unlike the pagan gods of the nations who only bicker with each other to fulfill greedy passions and lusts (e.g. compare Gen. 1–11 with contemporary creation/flood epics; cf. Walton, 2007). The story of Noah and his ark is thus polemic through and through. Moreover, it was structured to comment directly on the current state of Israel, specifically with regard to their customs and laws, and provide hope to the vulnerable Israelites. They were surrounded by greed, hostility, and pagan worship, and were but an unfaithful generation away from bringing judgment upon themselves. I will return to this point when I discuss the post-Flood covenants.

Form criticism and the flood narrative

The flood story in Genesis does comprise an historical account, but much of the account elucidates the theological reasons behind the catastrophe (i.e. How was God involved and why did He do this?). Another challenge comes in the style of the narrative, which was not written like an article out of Science. The form is rather semi-poetic (Kline, 1958), and fits nicely into that of ancient Hebrew storytelling, where parallelism abounds (i.e. the same thing is said twice, in two different forms). Genesis 7:17–23 is a great example of this.

As an aside, I am not saying that the literary form of Genesis 6–9 implies it was written only metaphorically, abstractly, or somehow removed from real events in history. I don't think the narrative would make sense unless the events were real and people knew about them. Consider a personal example from my own history:

My aunt died after a 6-year battle with breast cancer on Sept. 9, 2001. The rest of my family left immediately for Colorado, but I was stuck in Utah because I was enrolled in 5 classes and couldn't afford a whole week away from school. My uncle bought a plane ticket from Seattle to come down a couple days before the funeral—scheduled on Sept. 13th—but I couldn't afford a last-minute flight. I was disheartened that I would miss the funeral of my only aunt, but as it turned out, I did make it to the funeral. As you can imagine, my uncle was not allowed to make his flight on Sept. 11th, so he rented a car and drove down. Since Utah was on the way, he picked me up and we both made it in time for the viewing and the funeral.

If I were a great storyteller or poet, I could recast these events in a form not unlike the Genesis narrative. A careful reader, even hundreds of years from now, could then use my story to rebuild the timeline of national events that week in September. It will contain historical facts and details—accurate ones at that. But since the primary goal of my story would be to relay how the providence of God allowed me closure in my aunt's death, the account cannot simply be read at 'face value' if one were interested only in historical details. Discerning those details requires some work on the part of the reader.

Who is the audience of Genesis 6–9?

Knowing the original audience is vital in literary criticism. There remain a few difficulties, however, in determining the original audience of the flood narrative, not least in the challenges of modern biblical scholarship. The prevailing hypothesis is that Genesis was written in parts between the division of the kingdom (after David, ~1,000 B.C.) and the Babylonian conquest (586 B.C.), and later redacted during or after the return from exile (538 B.C.) along with the rest of the Pentateuch and Deuteronomic history. This is known as the Documentary Hypothesis, and I recommend Who Wrote the Bible? by Friedman (1997) for a scholarly introduction to how this idea has evolved over the past few centuries.

Since the oldest physical copy of the Tanakh is found in the Dead Sea Scrolls (ca. 100 B.C.), theories about the authorship and date of Genesis must rely almost entirely on internal evidence. Thus the Documentary Hypothesis has changed, and will continue to change as more evidence comes to light. Most conservative evangelicals have rejected the Documentary Hypothesis outright, opting instead for a Mosaic authorship (based Talmudic tradition and New Testament references to Moses). I am not qualified to draw a final conclusion either way, but I do feel that opponents of the hypothesis have yet to answer satisfactorily many of the textual challenges raised (e.g. duplicate accounts with unique vocabularies; interrupted chronologies; references to people, places, and events long after Moses's death), and that some of their efforts are misguided.

For example, the Documentary Hypothesis does not reject that Moses gave a written law to Israel (called Torah), but only that Moses, or any single author, wrote the entire Pentateuch in the form we have today. Even the most conservative evangelicals recognize that a later author must have written some parts of the Pentateuch (e.g. the account of Moses's death), and many are comfortable saying that Moses did not author any of Genesis, minus a few edits (e.g. article here by Russell Griggs; see also Morris, 1976).

On the other hand, the initial proponents of the Documentary Hypothesis assumed too little about the literary abilities of the ancient Near East, and too much about the evolution of religions. Ancient Mesopotamia was not characterized by a primitive society, practicing some simplified form of a fertility religion, passed on through oral tradition alone. Thousands of clay tablets, recovered in the past two centuries, reveal that ancient Sumeria was rather a highly ordered civilization, replete with priests, temples, and law codes—as early as the fourth millenium B.C. (Walton, 2007)! They were not only literate, but skillfully so. The same has been demonstrated for Israel, at least as far back as the 11th century B.C. Consequently, proposed dates of authorship for much of the Pentateuch have been pushed back several times, and Friedman (1997) suggests that all of J, E, and P were written long before the destruction of the first temple.

There is no reason to doubt a priori that written records could have been passed on from Abrahaam to Moses to the post-Exilic scribes. The question is whether and how they have been rewritten since that time (and they would have had to, if only to account for the evolving language of the people). The contextual antiquity of Genesis 1–11 is obvious, even if the form is more recent. Moreover, the accounts were not simply fabricated from Babylonian records, despite the minor similarities. Details about the geography, politics, and economics of the region suggest that the original author was personally familiar with ancient Sumeria, in addition to her famous epics (Gilgamesh, Atrahasis, etc.). Use of ancient words and numbering systems further attest to this fact (Hill, 2001).

Whether or not the Pentateuch was compiled by Ezra during the Babylonian exile (Friedman, 1997), the story of Noah would have been told—even written down—in some form long before Moses. Perhaps a Mosaic composition inspired the words we now attribute to J (and thus P)? Whatever the case, I think we can say with confidence that Genesis 6–9 was written in the form we have today sometime after the Exodus, but certainly before the first temple was destroyed (as proposed by Friedman, 1997), because it fits both chronologically and canonically into the Torah as a whole, but retains details from antiquity (Sumeria). If so, we should be conscious of its relationship to the rest of the Torah when interpreting the historical particulars, and try to read it from the perspective of an Israelite that just settled in a recently conquered Canaan.

Flood narrative(s)?

Though I do not offer my full, unequivocal support to the Documentary Hypothesis, I am convinced that Genesis 6–9 does contain two flood narratives (call them J and P for convenience). Several parts of the story are told twice in different ways. For example, 6:9–13 (P) is essentially a repeat of 6:1–8 (J). The beginning of chapter 8 (J) repeats the end of chapter 7 (P) in terms of gathering the animals. Everyone enters the ark in 7:6–9 (J), and again in 7:13–16 (P). Lastly, the covenant in chapter 9 (P) repeats that given at the end of chapter 8 (J), but with added detail.

Whenever the narrative contains a duplicate account, there are key differences. Most notable is the name of God used (Elohim vs. YHWH), which has long been noted by Christian scholars. The end of chapter 6 says to gather 2 of every kind of animal, including birds, but the beginning of chapter 7 says to gather 7 of every clean animal, and 7 of every kind of bird. Part of the narrative seems to indicate the flood would last (or did last) only 40 days, but the rest outlines a year-long deluge. In both forms of the covenant, God promises not to wipe out the life of the land on account of man's sin, but the account in Chapter 9 gives commentary on the law and priestly duties, whereas the Chapter 8 account simply reverses the curses of Genesis 3 and promises not to interfere again with the natural order given there.

These apparent contradictions can be resolved without assuming two flood narratives (i.e. as the text stands), but the task is done more easily if understood this way. For Noah to eat meat after the flood (Gen. 9:3), for example, the animals would have to be sacrificed. [Note: Animal sacrifice was not just a ceremonial cremation to appease God's wrath, but the only means by which animals were consumed. Only clean animals were fit for eating, because only clean animals were fit for sacrifice. Thus eating meat in the early church sometimes required eating animals sacrificed to idols (1 Cor. 8; Rom. 14)] Since the P account does not include Noah's offering after the flood (8:20), the extra animals are not mentioned at the end of chapter 6 (or they are included, subtextually, in the "food for you" of 6:21). On the other hand, the seven pairs of 7:2–3 set up the narrative for an offering in 8:20–21. These differences are not contradictions, therefore, but follow the respective purviews of the individual authors (at least one of whom may have indeed been Moses or Aaron).

Many still deny that the flood narrative was redacted from two accounts, but I don't see any good reason. The flow of the text is interrupted in several places (e.g. 7:11), and it's hard to say why a single original author would switch between two different names for God, seemingly arbitrarily. Different vocabularies are used where the story repeats itself: 'male and female' vs. 'a male and his female'; 'expired' vs. 'died'; 'raven' vs. 'dove'. Moreover, the timeline of the flood (see below) loses much of its significance within this interpretation. I believe that the more parsimonious conclusion is that a single author, inspired by God, redacted the two accounts to fully explain Israel's place in history (i.e. in light of the flood) as the covenant people of God. Whatever the case, the literary structure of Genesis 6–9 is an amazing work of art (see Wenham, 1994 for detailed analysis). Each account is equally poetic and well structured when considered individually. Personally, I think this only adds to the magnificence of the narrative as we know it, as well its ultimate Author.

What does the account of Genesis 6–9 actually tell us?

The literal reading of Genesis 6–9

We are now to the point where the rubber meets the road. So far, I have tried to establish that 1) the flood narrative of Genesis was passed down from antiquity, but rewritten for post-Exodus Israel; 2) the account was written partly as an apologetic for the covenant God of Israel, elucidating also the place of His covenant people in history; 3) the literary genre of Genesis 6–9 is epic or myth, in that it uses familiar history to unfold the worldview of the authors; thus 4) we must properly apply form criticism to uncover the historical and scientific particulars; but 5) we must be careful not to impose our own cosmology and worldview on the text, as many earlier commentators have done. In light of these principles, we can outline the literal reading of Genesis 6–9 and compare it against history, archaeology, and geology.

Homeland of Noah

We are not given an explicit geographic location for Noah, but we do have some details about where he ends up. After the flood, he begins farming and plants a vineyard. Before this, a dove returns to the ark with an olive branch. Unless Noah's family travelled a long way before settling down (this must be read into the text), we can assume that he ended up in a favorable spot for growing olives and grapes (temperate climate with sufficient rainfall and elevation).

The garden of Eden is described in the context of 4 rivers known to ancient Sumeria. Abrahaam came from Ur, close to where the same rivers flowed. Is there any reason from the text to think Noah originally lived outside of the Mesopotamian valley we know? Morris (1976), and others after him, suggested that Noah's family named rivers in the new world after those in the pre-Flood world. Unless one decides a priori that the flood was global and reshaped the whole planet, however, there is no reason for this rationalization. In fact, it forces a rather awkward feel on the text. The geographic continuity from Eden to Abrahaam stands as textual evidence against the foundation of Flood geology, and a literal reading of the text places Noah in Mesopotamia before the flood.

The literary proximity of the Genesis narrative to Sumerian records corroborates the notion that Noah's tale descended from that region. In the Epic of Gilgamesh, the head survivor of the ark was 'king' of a city called Shuruppak, located north of Ur in the central Mesopotamian valley. Hill (2001) argues that the biblical chronology also places Noah at the end of the Jemdet Nasr period (~2900 B.C.), when the Gilgamesh protagonist was said to reign. Furthermore, the 'overlying' 1st Dynasty period of Sumeria is separated stratigraphically at Shuruppak by a 5–11 feet-thick, water-lain silt deposit, which is possibly coeval with the earliest flood deposits at Kish, located at the north end of the valley (MacDonald, 1988), and even Uruk (Morozova, 2005; Hill, 2006). Kish was also known to later Sumerians as the first city rebuilt after the deluge (politically, that is; cf. Sumerian Kings List).

Universal language of the narrative

Whether in describing the extent of judgment, what kinds of animals were to board, or the extent of the flood waters, the Genesis narrative speaks of 'all the land', 'everything that has breath', or 'all the mountains under the high heavens'. All terrestrial life is destroyed, and the high hills were covered. I agree with the YEC reading on this point: the flood of Gen. 6–9 is a global/universal flood.

Noah's globe, however, was quite a bit smaller and flatter than our own. I would argue, therefore, that since the narrative is firmly rooted in the cosmology and geography of the ancient near East (e.g. reference to the floodgates of heaven and fountains of the deep—physical barriers that kept the waters above and the waters below from overcoming the dry land), we should not apply this language to our own picture of the planet. As mentioned in Part 1, the end goal of Gen. 6–9 was to return the land to a state of chaos (Gen. 1:2) through uncreation, and reestablish God's covenant people through Noah—a new Adam. God brought life to the land of ancient Mesopotamia, placed Adam there, and then made a covenant with Adam and Eve. Through the flood, He judged those that abandoned the covenant and destroyed the fruitful land they had enjoyed. From Noah's perspective, the whole land given by God was indeed overcome with water and all life perished, save those aboard the ark.

Ancient Israel did not have a word for "planet Earth" (Hill, 2002), and they rather used a word (translated earth) that referred to the land occupied by their people. The same descriptors are used for the judgment against Sodom and Gomorroah, Egypt, Israel at the hands of Assyria/Babylon, or even Jerusalem in the NT. If we want to interpret "the waters covered all the land" as "all of planet Earth was submerged", then we should also interpret the famine of Joseph's time (Gen. 41) to apply to all of Africa, Asia, Europe, and even America. Consistency is key.

Universal language is also necessary to communicate the theological message of God's judgment and redemption. I concur with Matthew Henry that the hills are mentioned partly because the hills were always thought of as a place of refuge (e.g. Jer. 49:14–16). Matthew 24 is a good example from the New Testament, in a similar context. But God's judgment is inescapable—there is nowhere to run.

Added confusion comes with the definition of the word translated 'mountain' or 'hill'. It could mean the highlands, as opposed to the valley. It could also mean mountain peaks. But it could also mean the city mounds and ziggurats of ancient Sumeria! The same word refers to all (Hill, 2002). But if the author is first concerned with the extent of God's judgment, rather than paleobathymetry or hydrology (a good assumption, in my opinion), then the exact rendering of the word is not relevant. All three will work, as long as it is understood that everything in sight was somehow covered by water. I will return to this point when discussing the depth/extent of the flood.

On a side note, I believe the YEC interpretation yields some inconsistency in their understanding of the universality of the flood. The narrative says that every kind of terrestrial/avian animal was preserved on the ark, but that everything outside, in which there was the breath of life, died. Numerous YECs (e.g. Woodmorappe, 1996) have debated how all the animals could fit, let alone live on the ark. But in each case, the author must allow that not every family/genus/species of terrestrial and avian life was on the ark. We know today that there would not be room for these creatures, unless some super-evolutionary and migratory event occurred after the flood (and by super, I mean unrealistic and impossible). Thus Woodmorappe (1996) and others have cited how various birds, amphibians, etc. could have survived the flood waters outside of the ark. The inconsistency here is obvious, in my opinion. Either all species of terrestrial and avian life today are descended from ark survivors, or the flood was not global in a modern sense of the word.

Construction of the ark

Very specific measurements are given for the size of the ark, as well as its composition. I don't really have any comments on the composition of the ark, except that the type of wood was foreign to those used in later construction (the word is never used again in the OT). If nothing else, this could suggest that the ark was built in a land other than Canaan, where different kinds of trees were growing, or that the word was passed down from antiquity. I see no immediate reason not to take the physical dimensions of the ark at face value, though I would be very interested to see someone build a full size model that could survive on open water, rather than on dry land! Hill (2002) suggests that the original dimensions could have been disguised in the fact that the Sumerians used a different numbering system (sexagesimal) than the Hebrews. Physical proportions of the ark would allow for maximum stability, but using the Sumerian cubit (72 cm), the dimensions are about 6 times that of large, Mesopotamian river boats.

Some have related the dimensions of the ark directly to the tabernacle (dimensions given in Exodus 27), providing an intertextual link (i.e. they did serve a similar purpose). The height of the ark (30 cubits), for example, is exactly 3 times the height of the tabernacle (10 cubits), and the surface area (300 x 50 = 15,000 cubits) is exactly 3 times that of the courtyard (50 x 100 = 5,000 cubits). In addition, Moses himself was carried by an ark (same word) to safety as an infant. These textual links allow the ark narrative to be read partly as a commentary on God's redemptive plan, particularly in the meaning of the tabernacle. Thus the actual dimensions of the original ark are less important, compared to the point that the ark is a type for the tabernacle (and ultimately, Christ's church), and may have been rewritten (or rounded off) to drive that point.

Disputes on how to interpret the blueprint are perhaps trivial (e.g. how the 'window' looked, whether the bow was rounded, etc.), but the command to coat the ark with pitch corroborates a limited flood, over against a Flood geology interpretation. The primary meaning of the word would suggest that bitumen from oil seeps was used (which should not have existed in a Flood geology scenario). Contemporary uses of the word in ancient literature, as well as later uses in the Bible, also confirm this interpretation. YEC commentators hypothesized the use of harvested tree resin (e.g. here), but I think their arguments are very poor. First, why would the author use a term specifically used for oil in a land where oil seeps abound? The product of harvested tree resin may be called pitch, just like our English translation of Genesis, but it has nothing in common with the Hebrew word. Second, the assumption that Noah had the technology to harvest tree resin is entirely arbitrary and imposes on the plain reading of the text. Lastly, harvesting tree resin is a very slow, time consuming process that is counterproductive to harvesting wood for a giant boat (cf. RTB article here). A much simpler, straightforward reading of the text is that Noah did live in ancient Sumeria, and used bitumen from oil seeps like any other ship builder of his time.

The Sumerians regularly imported pitch and cedar from upriver (Hill, 2002; Morozova, 2005), and the former was also used to build the Tower of Babel (Gen. 11), ziggurats, and earlier temple mounds. A literal reading suggests the source of the pitch was petroleum based, contrary to the Flood geology hypothesis that oil is a geological product of the flood. Flood geologists cannot account for the geological production of oil in a recent flood scenario, however, so the weight of archaeology, geology, and the biblical text falls in favor of a 'local flood' reading (more about oil here).

Depth and extent of the flood

In short, I don't think the language of Genesis (7 in particular) requires us to think that the flood was any more than 30–50 ft (depth of a catastrophic, but localized flood on the Mesopotamian valley). When the text says "the mountains were covered", it cannot be referring to any of the high ranges we know today (including Mt. Ararat), because the original (Sumerian) audience of the flood narrative, as well as the participants, did not know any mountains outside of those north of Sumeria (northern Iraq/southern Turkey today). Back in Noah's and Abraham's day, these were called the mountains of Urartu (rrt, rendered Ararat). Logical conclusion? The hills that were covered were located in Mesopotamia, and the resting place of the ark was northern Iraq or southern Turkey.

What are the hills that were covered by the deluge? One possibility is that the waters were just high enough to cover the hills immediately surrounding the alluvial plains of Mesopotamia (e.g. Urartu), but I think that given the topography of the region (these mountains are hundreds to thousands of feet high), a flood this deep is out of the question. Moreover, if such a flood did occur, there would be obvious evidence that could be correlated across adjacent continents. In other words, this option faces the same problem as conventional Flood geology: there is no such evidence.

If the language of Genesis 8 were meant to be phenomenological (as in the creation psalms), however, the interpretation might be recovered. Picture yourself on the floodplains of northern Mesopotamia (Google Earth is a great tool for this). The hills are just visible on the horizon. But if enough rain fell that the entire valley flooded for days to weeks/months, even the highest mountain peaks would not be visible to you any longer. One reason is that the horizon would be obscured with flood water. The other is that clouds would, quite literally, cover all the mountains (I lived along the Wasatch Front in Utah for 12 years and whenever it rained, the mountains were invisible from even a mile away). From any point of view, "all the mountains under the high heavens" would indeed be "covered". Moreover, the floodwaters would push everything out toward the edge of the floodplain (i.e. to the base of the hills). This interpretation explains the language used to describe the rising waters, as well as the resting place of the ark.

Although the Hebrew word for "covered" (as well as the Septuagint rendering) primarily refers to concealing something from view, the syntax demands that the rising waters (not falling) were responsible for the concealing. We should read Gen. 7:19–20, therefore, to mean that the "high hills" were indeed submerged by the floodwaters. I propose a simpler interpretation, taking into account the geography, hydrology, and architecture of ancient Sumeria, as well as the 'semi-poetic' style of the narrative—particularly that of J.

If Noah were originally a prominent figure of Shuruppak (Hill, 2001), then the only "hills" of the land would have been natural levees (3–4 meters; Morozova, 2005) and the mounds upon which the cities were built. In fact, these mounds were built specifically to avoid damage from flooding (Heyvaert and Baeteman, 2008). Hill (2002) speculates that since the Sumerian word for ziggurat was derived from mountain/hill (literally, 'temple mound'), it could be the referent of Gen. 7:19–20. The high Sumerian and Babylonian ziggurats (up to 300 ft), however, were not prominent in Mesopotamia until long after Noah's time. Instead, Sumerians of the 4th/3rd millennia B.C. built much smaller structures (1-2 stories) on natural and artificial mounds, which they simply called: mountains.

Most commentators have read Gen. 7:19–20 to mean that the waters covered the mountains, and then rose an additional 15 cubits. The two verses form a basic parallelism, however, rather than sequential events:

19: The water prevailed more and more upon the earth, so that all the high mountains everywhere under the heavens were covered.

20: The water prevailed fifteen cubits higher, and the mountains were covered.

The parallelism is more obvious in the natural, chiastic structure of the J narrative (see Appendix below), in which these two verses mark the climax—structurally and contextually—of the story. Thus the author of J writes that after the ark was afloat (7:18), it took 15 cubits to cover the hills (or "the water rose more than 15 cubits, and the mountains were covered", cf. NIV footnote). Using the Sumerian cubit (72 cm), this implies a depth of ~35 feet plus the draft of the ark. The mound at Shuruppak ranged from 3 to 9 meters above the floodplain (Martin, 1983), or a maximum of about 30 feet.

A 40-foot flood would have been sufficient to cover all hills and structures under Noah's sky. It is also consistent with the hydrology of the Mesopotamian floodplain (i.e. the gradient, width, and area of the drainage basin) in the case of a rare and extreme avulsion of the Tigris. Flood deposits at Shurrupak and Kish confirm that a large, lasting flood covered the cities at the time when Noah is said to have lived. As Morozova (2005) puts it: "In modern avulsion belts, several meters of silt and sand are deposited during long-term inundation...whereas typical floodplain deposition by annual floods, very common events in lower Mesopotamia, is only on the order of millimeters or centimeters."

The specificity of the 15 cubits in 7:20 should lead us to ask how the measurement was taken. As Hill (2002) rightly points out, the measurement is quite meaningless in a global flood scenario. But in the case of a ~40-ft. flood on the Sumerian plain, Noah or a person on the ark could have easily obtained the depth by conventional means.

Resting place of the ark

That Noah's ark came to rest in northern Iraq or sourthern Turkey is further corroborated by the fact that Noah's dove brought back an olive branch, and that he planted a vineyard shortly after. Grapes and olives can grow well in the 'hills of Urartu', but not in the lower Sumerian plain (or Mt. Ararat, for that matter). Consequently, Hill (2002) argues that the strength of the wine overwhelmed Noah because he may have been quite new to the drink (the national drink of Sumeria was a weaker, malted barley).

Contrary to long-standing tradition, Genesis 8 does not suggest that the ark came to rest high on a mountain. The resting place of the ark was "the mountains of Urartu", which could mean anything from the floodplains at the base of the hills (where people actually lived) to the mountain peaks of northern Iraq. The former is a political description: the land dominated by the 'Kingdom of Urartu' (e.g. Isa. 37:38). No details are given as to the elevation of the ark when it came to rest—only the geography. Hill (2002, p. 176) points out that the Urartian region only covered the "northern fringes of Mesopotamia" in the 3rd millenium B.C., expanding northward into modern-day Armenia more than a thousand years later. Combined with early historical accounts about the ark's resting place, she argues for Cizre, Turkey as the most likely candidate.

The scenario of Hill (2002) is not without difficulties. First, Genesis 8 says that the mountain tops became visible after the ark had come to rest. Secondly, one must explain how the ark traveled up gradient to the north (approximately from Shuruppak to Cizre), rather than out toward the Persian Gulf. In response to the second challenge, Hill (2006; husband of the former) constructed a physical model that accounted for the hydrology of a year-long, 40-ft. deep flood over Mesopotamia, as well as size and approximate weight of the ark. He concluded that a strong, prevalent wind from the Gulf (cf. Gen. 8:1) could provide the sufficient drag force needed to move the ark from point A (Shuruppak) to point B (Cizre) in less than 40 days.

Hill's model assumed the full dimensions of the ark (Gen. 6), a range of wood densities, and cubit lengths between 18–21.6 inches. In other words, the model complies with even the most rigid hermeneutic. Alternatively, I believe it is entirely possible that Noah's ark was much smaller—closer to that of a large Mesopotamian cargo ship (see above). Also, nearly every commentator has assumed that the ark's movement was entirely at the mercy of the wind and currents. But the Sumerians knew how to get up and down the rivers (even to Urartu). Although the text of the biblical narrative does not specifically mention any effort to move or steer the ship, we should not assume that is the case, particularly if the ark moved upstream! This assumption constitutes an argument from silence that goes against the prevailing archaeological evidence regarding Mesopotamian trade routes.

Lastly, the fact that the mountain tops become visible after the ark comes to rest may seem to require that the ark rested on top of a mountain peak, but only if the "hills of Urartu" is taken to mean a structure and not a region. The former idea reflects early translations of the phrase as "Mt. Ararat", which has long been abandoned. I believe rather that the hills referred to in Chapter 8 are those that become covered in Chapter 7, and the "hills of Urartu" simply refers to the "region north of Mesopotamia".

Survivors on the ark

To be succinct, if we take the narrative at face value, then the flood destroyed only the land known to Noah and his family. The world they knew was indeed overcome with water and there was no place to escape. There is no need to speculate, then, how the modern world population was descended from Noah's family, some 4,500 years ago. Or how every terrestrial and avian creature today was descended from a single pair on the ark. Neither must we speculate about how thousands upon thousands of animals fit into the ark, or were cared for, etc., or how Noah managed to seal the boat with tree resin. We need not explain why human occupations are found on 5 other continents, uninterrupted at the time of the flood. Rather, we can focus on Noah, his family, and the creatures of his immediate region (livestock, birds, etc.—note the account does not include the wild beasts like lions, etc.). At this point, the literal reading of the narrative is perfectly in line with the geography, geology, archaeology, and history/literature of Mesopotamia.

Timeline(s) of the flood narrative(s)

How long did the flood actually last? First, God says that after 7 days, 40 days/nights of rain will come (7:4), but then we're told that the waters prevailed for 150 days (7:24). We might say, for example, that it rained 40 days/nights, but that the waters continued to rise from other means (fountains of the deep?). But this creates a problem in chapter 8 (see below). Moreover, Flood geology must allow that rain continued to fall (recycle) throughout the entire event, given the heat of volcanism, tectonics, and the high relative humidity of the atmosphere. If the flood were global, the period of 40 days/nights of rain becomes a physically meaningless figure.

Gen. 8:3 refers to the "end of 150 days", but Gen 8:6 refers to "at the end of 40 days". Does this refer to the 40 days of rain or an additional period of 40 days after the climax of the flood? If it's another period, then it doesn't fit well within the timeline. The text cites 2 1/2 months between the peak of the flood and when the mountains were visible, after which Noah waited 40 days, and released the birds. But it would be another 50 days before the waters finally dried up, and yet 56 more days before Noah and his family exited the ark. I think there is a better solution.

If we unravel the two flood narratives, we find two timelines—each with their own numerical significance. In the first story, there are: 7 days of waiting; 40 days/nights of rain; 7 days of waiting until the dove returns; then 7 days of rest before Noah leaves the ark. Thus there are 54 days of flooding, followed by 7 days of rest/waiting. I'm not big on numerology, but it's worth noting that this equals 6 intervals of 9 days (3x3), followed by 1 interval of 7 days. Some have associated the number 9 with judgment, and of course 7 with heavenly perfection. Regardless, the account breaks down to another 'Creation Week': 6 days of judgment/recreation, followed by a day of Sabbath rest.

I have already noted the canonical tie of this account to the creation/Eden narrative, so I think my analysis could be valid. Of course, it would require the author of J to have known about the 6-day creation narrative (P), contra the traditional Documentary Hypothesis. Perhaps this is weak evidence of an even earlier date for this portion of P? I shouldn't speculate too much!

In any case, the canonical link between the older flood narrative and the Exodus also becomes more clear. In Egypt, God warned Pharaoh (through Moses), before committing to a process of uncreation (the plagues), culminating in death across the whole land to every firstborn. Finally, Pharoah's army is swept away by water (the flood). But God's people spent yet another 40 years in the wilderness and several more in conquest before they could find rest (the "7th day") in the promised land. Moreover, their survival and well being was intimately linked with the tabernacle—a rather out-of-place, rectangular, wooden structure, not unlike the ark.

The second story describes a year-long catastrophe (some say 365 days, or 1 solar year, which is 1 lunar year plus 11 days: 2nd month, 17th day to 2nd month, 27th day—I'm not entirely sure). The exact days of the year are given for the start of the flood, resting of the ark, etc., but not for scientific/technical purposes, I believe. The flood begins on a Sunday (like creation), and the ark comes to rest on what would be preparation day (Friday), just in time for the Sabbath (see Wenham, 1994). God remembers Noah on what would become the Day of Atonement. In other words, this timeline unfolds the antiquity of God's redemption and Sabbath cycle—all in light of the recently established calendar of post-Exodus Israel.

In concluding, I should clarify that I do not propose these accounts contradict each other or that either is necessarily in error. Rather, I think we should allow the possibility that some numbers constituted a literary tool to grab the reader's attention and direct it elsewhere. If I were describing a recent political figure, but prefaced my story with "Four score and seven years ago, so and so first became interested in politics..." you would recognize immediately that I'm not giving a timeline for the figure's youth, but wish to compare their efforts/charisma with that of Lincoln. Although it is possible that the flood lasted exactly 365/370 days, as outlined in the full account, a literal reading of the text (given the style and genre) does not require that we understand it this way.

Post-flood covenants

Perhaps one of the most difficult aspects of the flood narrative to understand from a limited-geography perspective is the covenant made to Noah after the deluge. The question stands: didn't God promise never to do this again? Yet floods approaching this scale have no doubt occurred around the world since Noah's time! That is true, but the dilemma is a two-edged sword, I believe.

A global-flood interpretation would require us to read the covenant as following (paraphrasing, tongue-in-cheek): "Well, the flood you just survived destroyed every individual land animal and bird on Earth, and I promise never to do that again. On the other hand, there will be some pretty heavy flooding in the future that may even wipe out whole civilizations, including yours; but not all of them simultaneously, on the rest of the planet you have yet to discover." There is little comfort to be found in God's promise if we are to read it this way.

Two covenants are made after the deluge: Gen. 8:20–22 and Gen. 9:1–17. Both are tied intertextually to the creation narratives—Gen. 2–3 and Gen. 1, respectively (whether or not one accepts dual authorship is inconsequential to this point). In the first covenant, God promises never to "curse the ground on account of man" again, reversing the curse of Gen. 3 and implying that His creation (land and life) will not suffer on account of man's sin. As an aside, this passage seems to contradict the YEC position that animal death and natural disasters are still a consequence of man's sin, because it would have been reversed at this point. God also promises that the seasonal cycles created to provide man with food and shelter would not be interrupted (a long-standing flood, even 40+ days, would be sufficient to upset harvest for a year).

But in the global-flood paradigm, this again provides little comfort to the primary audience (post-Exodus Israel). Imagine that you are an ancient Israelite, a son or daughter of the Exodus generation enjoying the fruit of the promised land. You have just heard the tale of Noah, as retold by Moses in the Torah. What is the first logical question? I think it is this: if we are unfaithful to God and Torah, will the Lord send the flood waters upon us? Will He destroy the promised land, and all life within, with a flood as in Noah's day? That is the key question, I think, addressed by the record of God's covenant with Noah.

In the second covenant, God reiterates the commission to Noah that was given in Genesis 1: be fruitful and multiply, and I will give you sustenance. But He expands the commission in terms of available food, using language that was very familiar to the priests of post-Exodus Israel (i.e. similar to the law code found later in the Torah). Thus God also establishes the antiquity of His holiness found in Torah. A straightforward reading of the promise to follow (sealed by the rainbow) implies that God would never destroy the land and sustenance given to His covenant people following the flood. Since the time of Noah, Abrahaam, and particularly Moses, God has kept good on this promise. Though Israel would stray, and God would chastise—through conquest and exile—the land and its fruit would never be destroyed by the waters of a flood. It remained the promised land until fulfilled in Christ.

Conclusion

While the story of Noah and his ark has never failed to captivate our young minds, it has remained for many just a story. Centuries of critique from extrabiblical sources have caused many to consign the tale to imagination, hoping that the moral lesson could still 'matter'. Part of this shift, I think, is due to the insistence on reading the narrative as a recent, global flood. For those who recognize the weight of evidence against this claim, a choice between blind faith and reality seems to be knocking at the door.

But I am confident now that the dilemma is indeed a false one. Despite some modern, rigid traditions regarding the historical and physical implications of Noah's flood, the church has never found consensus. Instead, she has struggled to incorporate new evidence over the past two millennia, and so the 'meaning' of the narrative was as fluid as the worldview of the respective reader. We should welcome the evidence from antiquity that is available to us today, limited as it is, to recover the historicity of our beloved Noah.

Taking into account the style and genre of the narrative, as well as the original audience, I believe that a literal reading of Genesis 6–9 fits the available historical, archaeological, and geological evidence. Noah lived in Mesopotamia in the early 3rd millenium B.C. By the providence and mercy of God, he survived a catastrophic deluge and relocated to the highlands upriver. From there, the land was repopulated from the north by many of his descendants. The Semitic influence upon Mesopotamia that followed (~2,650 B.C.) is written in stone and preserved to this day.

Centuries later, God led Abraham out of southern Mesopotamia, toward the promised land. Israel would eventually conquer Canaan, but only after surviving a 'deluge' of their own. Even at her strongest, Israel was vulnerable to the surrounding nations, and again was at the mercy of God for protection and deliverance, not least from the physical elements. But God promised not to curse that land on account of their sin by overcoming it with water. Israel would face punishment and exile, but God would yet preserve His covenant people and the promised land, until all would be fulfilled.

Appendix: the two flood accounts

Consider the natural, poetic flow of the following excerpt. I've taken out only the portions that are hypothesized to be from one of the authors (J, according to Friedman, 1997). Notice also how only the word YHWH is used for God.

7:7, 16b, 10, 12, 17–23; 8:2b–3a, 6

Then Noah and his sons and his wife and his sons’ wives with him entered the ark because of the water of the flood, and YHWH closed it behind him.
It came about after the seven days, that the water of the flood came upon the earth.
The rain fell upon the earth for forty days and forty nights.
Then the flood came upon the earth for forty days,
and the water increased and lifted up the ark, so that it rose above the earth.
The water prevailed and increased greatly upon the earth,
and the ark floated on the surface of the water.
The water prevailed more and more upon the earth, so that all the high mountains everywhere under the heavens were covered.
The water prevailed fifteen cubits higher, and the mountains were covered.
of all that was on the dry land, all in whose nostrils was the breath of the spirit of life, died.
Thus He blotted out every living thing that was upon the face of the land,
from man to animals to creeping things and to birds of the sky,
and they were blotted out from the earth;
and only Noah was left, together with those that were with him in the ark.
and the rain from the sky was restrained; and the water receded steadily from the earth
Then it came about at the end of forty days, that Noah opened the window of the ark which he had made;

Obviously, I imposed the chiasmic structure myself, and it could be subjective. But the story moves from the Lord closing the ark to Noah opening the ark, climaxing when the waters cover even the hills, and with a perfect symmetry (keep in mind that the English translation disrupts some of that symmetry). When the other account is isolated, you can see the same symmetry and structure, but it climaxes when "God remembered Noah." To me, this is not only evidence that two stories were redacted, but it also shows the artistic glory of God in uniting the legends of that culture to form a single, inspired text that unfolds God's theological message about judgment and redemption. Feel free to contact me for further discussion about this hypothesis, or a copy of the two accounts separated.

References Cited:

Enns, P., 2005, Inspiration and Incarnation: Evangelicals and the Problem of the Old Testament: Baker Academic, Grand Rapids, 208 p.

Friedman, R.E., 1997, Who Wrote the Bible?: Harper Collins, New York, 303 p.

Heyvaert, V.M.A., and Baeteman, C., 2008, A Middle to Late Holocene avulsion history of the Euphrates river: a case study from Tell ed-D er, Iraq, Lower Mesopotamia: Quaternary Science Reviews, v. 27, p. 2401–2410.

Hill, C.A., 2001, A Time and a Place for Noah: Perspectives on Science and Christian Faith, v. 53, p. 24–40.

Hill, C.A., 2002, The Noachian Flood: Universal or Local?: Perspectives on Science and Christian Faith, v. 54, p. 170–183.

Hill, A.E., 2006, Quantitative Hydrology of Noah's Flood: Perspectives on Science and Christian Faith, v. 58, p. 130–141.

Hill, C.A., 2006, Qualitative Hydrology Of Noah’s Flood: Perspectives on Science and Christian Faith, v. 58, p. 126.

Kline, M.P., 1958, Because It Had Not Rained: The Westminster Theological Journal, v. 20, p. 146-157.

MacDonald, D., 1988, The Flood: Mesopotamian Archaeological Evidence: Creation/Evolution Journal, v. 8, p. 14–20.

Martin, H.P., 1983, Settlement Patterns at Shuruppak: Iraq, v. 45, p. 24–31.

Morozova, G.S., 2005, A Review of Holocene Avulsions of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers and Possible Effects on the Evolution of Civilizations in Lower Mesopotamia: Geoarchaeology, v. 20, p. 401–423.

Morris, H.M., 1976, The Genesis Record: A Scientific and Devotional Commentary on the Book of Beginnings: Baker, Grand Rapids, 716 p.

Walton, J.H., 2007, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament: Introducing the Conceptual World of the Hebrew Bible: Apollos, Nottingham, 368 p.

Wenham, G., 1994, The Coherence of the Flood Narrative, in Hess, R. S., and Tsumura, D. T., 1994, I studied inscriptions from before the flood. Sources for Biblical and Theological Study: Eisenbrauns, USA, 480 p.

Woodmorappe, J., 1996, Noah's Ark: A Feasibility Study: Institute for Creation Research, El Cajon, 298 p.

Young, D.A., 1995, The Biblical Flood: A Case Study of the Church's Response to Extrabiblical Evidence: The Paternoster Press, Carlisle, 341 p.

Young, D.A., 2004, The Bible, Rocks and Time: Geological Evidence for the Age of the Earth: Intervarsity Press Academic, 510 p.