Sense without Sense?

Quine, Carnap, and the Persistence of Intelligibility

The reflections that follow were occasioned by a recent paper by Lucas Ribeiro Vollet, “Sense (Sinn) as a Pseudo-Problem and Sense as a Radical Problem: A Reading of the Motivations of Quine against Carnap" (https://independent.academia.edu/s/c59ed03835). Vollet kindly invited comment on the piece, and it repays careful reading. The article revisits the familiar—but still unsettled—Quine–Carnap dispute over Sense, not as a merely historical episode, but as a diagnostic window into the limits of semantic theory in the twentieth century.

Vollet’s central claim is worth stating clearly at the outset. He argues that Quine’s skepticism about intensions is not eliminativist in the crude sense often attributed to him. Quine does not regard the question of Sense as a pseudo-problem in the way some moral or metaphysical notions are dismissed as meaningless. Rather, he believes the question is incorrectly framed. What Carnap treats as a semantic problem—the need for intensional identity conditions stronger than extensional equivalence—Quine reinterprets as a scientific and methodological challenge: the ongoing task of coordinating empirical investigation, theory revision, and socially stabilized paradigms of meaning.

As Vollet summarizes in his abstract, Quine’s naturalism applies skepticism about intensions not to deny the reality of the problem, but to expose its mislocation. The appeal to sense functions as a semantically dogmatic expression of a broader difficulty already present in scientific practice itself: the challenge of providing coherence to inquiry, securing rational consensus, and stabilizing paradigms of meaning over time. Vollet names this the radical problem generated by the idea of Sense.

This reframing is philosophically serious and historically sensitive. It resists the temptation to caricature Quine as a blunt extensionalist and instead situates his critique of sense within a broader vision of scientific rationality. There is much here with which one can agree. Yet the very sophistication of Vollet’s reconstruction also sharpens a question that neither Quine nor his interpreters fully resolve: what becomes of intelligibility once formal semantics has been dismantled, but scientific practice itself presupposes more than extensional structure can supply?

It is this question—rather than the fate of “sense” as a semantic object—that motivates what follows.

I. The Legitimate Collapse of Intensional Semantics

Quine’s central insight was not merely that intensional entities resist formal definition. It was that the criteria by which such entities were supposed to be individuated—analyticity, synonymy, necessity—could not be specified without circularity. Any attempt to regiment them either presupposed what it claimed to explain or relied on pragmatic judgments smuggled in under the guise of logical form.

Vollet is right to insist that this is not a technical oversight but a structural failure. There is no algorithm for sense. No calculus decides synonymy. No formal rule distinguishes what is merely coextensive from what is cognitively equivalent. To that extent, the Carnapian project fails decisively.

This failure should not be minimized. It forces a clean and non-negotiable distinction between what syntax can secure—derivability, consistency, inferential order—and what it cannot: meaning, reference, or truth. Formal rigor does not rescue sense; it exposes its absence as a formal object. Any attempt to recover sense by enriching syntax, appealing to semantic rules, or invoking linguistic frameworks only relocates the difficulty without resolving it.

In this respect, Quine’s critique remains one of the most important negative results of twentieth-century philosophy.

II. The Non Sequitur: From Failure to Elimination

Where the argument falters is in the inference drawn from this failure. Quine famously concluded that since intensional semantics cannot be formalized, there is no fact of the matter beyond extensional equivalence and the evolving practices of empirical science. Meaning becomes, at best, a byproduct of theory choice, pragmatic convenience, and holistic revision.

But this conclusion does not follow.

The failure of formal capture does not entail the unreality of what resists capture. It shows only that the object in question is not an object of the same kind as formal derivations or syntactic structures. To infer elimination from non-formalizability is to mistake a methodological limitation for an ontological verdict.

Indeed, Quine’s own account of scientific practice quietly depends on distinctions that extensionalism alone cannot generate. Theory revision is not arbitrary. Scientific change is constrained by judgments of relevance, coherence, explanatory power, and unification—none of which are derivable from extensional relations alone, and none of which can be dictated by data without remainder. These judgments are not internal to a theory in the way axioms are; nor are they reducible to convention. They presuppose a space in which theories can count as making better sense of a domain rather than merely succeeding instrumentally.

Quine identifies the failure of intensional semantics correctly. What he fails to identify is what that failure presupposes.

III. Intelligibility Without Intensions

Once sense is rejected as a formal intermediary, we are left with a striking alternative: intelligibility without intensional objects. The question is no longer What is the sense of this expression? but How is sense-making possible at all, if no formal structure can generate it?

Vollet gestures toward an answer by appealing to coordination, rational negotiation, and scientific practice. But these gestures remain descriptive rather than explanatory. They name sites where intelligibility is exercised without accounting for what makes such exercise possible in the first place.

Theory choice, interpretive adequacy, and conceptual revision all presuppose a non-formal orientation toward meaning. This orientation is not itself a theory, nor a rule, nor a convention. It is the condition under which theories, rules, and conventions can be assessed as intelligible rather than merely adopted.

This is the point at which extensionalism quietly depends on what it officially disavows. The rejection of sense does not eliminate the problem of meaning; it relocates it to a level that resists objectification.

IV. Determination and the Space of Orientation

What emerges here is not a new intensional entity, but a structural distinction: the distinction between determination and determinability. Formal systems determine relations within a domain. But the capacity for such determination—to count as relevant, adequate, or successful—depends on a space of orientation that is not itself formally determined.

This space is neither subjective nor sociological, though it is encountered through finite judgments. It does not dictate outcomes, but it orients inquiry toward intelligibility. It guides without necessitating. It grounds without competing with determinate structures.

Attempts to collapse this space into practice, convention, or revisionary habit fail for the same reason that intensional semantics failed earlier: they confuse the exercise of intelligibility with its condition. What is presupposed in every successful act of interpretation cannot itself be reduced to the history of such acts.

V. Translation, Stabilization, and a Persistent Remainder

A brief exchange following Vollet’s paper sharpens this point further. In response to a comment emphasizing the importance of language–metalanguage distinctions, translation procedures, and higher-order logical resources for reconstructing ontological commitments—especially in contemporary AI contexts—Vollet agrees that such distinctions are crucial. They allow ontological commitments to be reorganized through mapping rules that preserve predictive roles while revising theoretical vocabulary.

Yet Vollet also raises an important hesitation. Translation frameworks, he suggests, may not be the only way to model ontological stabilization. Fixed-point constructions, iterative self-mapping, and convergent computational paths might also generate stable ontological frameworks internally, without appeal to pre-given semantic foundations. From this perspective, intensional—or even “supersensible”—structures emerge as products of convergence rather than as metaphysical primitives. Quine, Vollet suggests, might allow such internal stabilization, provided it remains constrained by biological, social, or cultural selection pressures that guide coordination toward shared reference.

This exchange is illuminating precisely because it confirms the deeper issue. Whether one appeals to translation, fixed points, or convergence, the question remains the same: what makes stabilization intelligible as stabilization rather than mere iteration? What distinguishes convergence from coincidence, coordination from collapse, agreement from brute alignment?

No amount of internal reorganization can answer that question from within.

VI. A Limit Quine Cannot Cross

Quine was right to dismantle the myth of sense as a semantic object. He was wrong to suppose that nothing remains once the myth is dispelled. What remains is intelligibility itself—real, irreducible, and non-formal.

Extensional logic shows us, with remarkable clarity, what form can and cannot do. But it also shows us that meaning is not generated by form. It is presupposed by it. The recognition of this fact does not require a return to intensions. It requires acknowledging that intelligibility has an ontological ground that formal systems inhabit but do not produce.

To say this is not yet to speak theologically. But it is to arrive at a threshold. The problem of sense dissolves. The problem of intelligibility does not. And it is precisely at that point—where philosophy has exhausted its formal resources without collapsing into irrationalism—that a deeper account of meaning becomes unavoidable.

That account begins not with semantic enrichment, but with the recognition that the space in which meaning appears is itself grounded. 

Model-Theoretic Considerations for Theological Semantics

I

I have for many years been convinced that the theological enterprise cannot survive in our age without affording to its language robust truth conditions.  Contemporary men and women presuppose what Jaegwon Kim once called Alexander's Dictum, that is, "to be is to have causal powers."  We don't live in the 19th century where ideas themselves are thought to have a kind of reality; we don' t live in a time in which the conceptuality of God can remain important for vast numbers of people. 

In our days, people are not generally searching to find some overarching concept or principle that grounds our rational thinking about life and existence, a notion that might somehow explain why human experience is given as it is, and accordingly, somehow ground the preciousness and value of that experience.  While Madonna once sung of a "material girl," we generally acknowledge that, even in our churches, the cultural primacy of the physical reigns.  The new atheism talks breathlessly of its discovery of a worldview without divine agency and causality -- as if such a view of things is in any way new.  There is an assumption of the causal closure of the physical among many unwashed in the complexities of the actual relations holding among experience, theory and truth, among those who simply believe that the theories of the natural and social sciences simply state the way things are.  

The idea is easy enough to grasp.  Consider this structure <{x | x is a natural event}, C>.  This is a structure consisting of the set of all natural events and a causal operator C relating members of this set of events to each other.  This structure can satisfy these two assertions:  1) For all x, there is some x (or other) that causes x, and 2) For all x, if x is caused, then it is caused by some x (or other).  What is precluded by this structure is that there is an x that can be caused by some event or agency that is outside the set {x | x is a natural event}, or that x causes some event or state of affairs outside the set {x | x is a natural event}.  Simply put, there are no non-physical events causing physical events, nor no physical events causing non-physical events.  

In addition to the causal closure of the physical assumed by many impressed with the results and progress of the natural and social sciences, it is also supposed, though not always as clearly, by the heralds of late nineteenth century radical criticism, that human beings are somehow alienated when they fail to come to terms with the physicality of their fate.  Feuerbach, Freud, Marx, and Nietzsche, all, in their own way, argued that the illusion of the traditional God connects with the fundamental alienation of men and women.  Marx, for instance, argued that human value and ideology is determined by underlying economic processes, and that the concept of God simply operates to block human beings from understanding the basic materiality of their existence.  The God concept sanctions prevailing ideology and functions to keep in place value ideologies grounded in the unequal distribution of economic materiality.  

Most people that continue to practice the Christian life believe that there is a God and that God is active in the world, i.e., they assume that "to be is to have causal powers" and that God has causal powers.  They speak about the divine design of the universe, and about the power of prayer, particularly prayers of petition.  They assume that there are things that have come about that would not have come about were there no God, and that there are events and processed that have not come about that would have come about were there no God.   

The structure they assume is perhaps this: <{x | x is an event}, g, C, D> where there is a set of natural events and there is God, and that there is a binary natural causal operator C linking natural events to other natural events, and a binary divine causal operator D, linking natural events to divine agency, e.g., 'Dgp' means God divinely produces event p, with p being a member of the set of all natural events.  

Metaphysics remains crucial in theology because claims about that beyond the physical are by nature metaphysical, and assuming God to be with causal powers means that something beyond the physical is bringing about something physical.  This is clearly a metaphysical claim. To afford to theological language robust truth conditions in an age that assumes that to be is to have causal powers means that theology must be self-consciously and boldly metaphysical.  There must be intellectual honesty here.  Either theological language is broadly expressive of the self, its experiences and existential orientations and possibilities, or it is a rule-governed customary discourse by and through which human communities function and operate in the world, or it is a type of discourse that non-subjectively donates possible ways of being, or perhaps it is realist in its motivations; it states what its utterers believe is the ultimate constitution of things.  

One needs to think through these issues very clearly.  What are either the truth or assertibility conditions of theological language if one eschews realism?  Are sentences in the language rightly assertible simply because my tribe (the theological tradition) has traditionally asserted them?  But clearly the assertibility condition cannot simply be 'x is properly assertible' if and only if x has been asserted by normative theologians of tradition T over time t.  Why? In order even to begin to evaluate that claim we must know the identity conditions of 'normative theologian' and 'tradition' and 'time'.   

Are the assertions of theology then either descriptions of the self -- its experience and existential orientations -- or are they expressions of the self?  Clearly, embracing the latter is to give up on truth,  for it entails that assertibility must be understood broadly in terms of a "boo hurrah" theory of theological language.  But the former alternative is not much better, for on its assumption the truth-makers of all theological language are not theological.  On this view, models satisfying a set of theological assertions are not theological models at all because the sets, functions and relations of the models deal with the human.  Since human dispositions, experiences, and orientations are operated upon by relations and functions, these functions and relations ultimately concern the human. The fact that such models can satisfy a class of theological statements, should give us pause about what it is we are doing when we provide theological models. 

But there is another alternative, for we might hold that theological language somehow operates to disclose truth, that language, the Word, in its wording grants world and our place within it must itself be given a theological model.  But it is to me unclear exactly how this model can be constructed coherently.  Models or structures concern domains with functions and relations drawn upon those domains. But what can be the domain of the creative Word?  Remember that revelation is not insight.  Insight concerns an intellectual grasp of that which is already present.  Revelation, on the other hand, is a daring grasp of what is not present, but which shows itself eschatologically.  There is so much that can be said here, but I cannot in this brief essay say it.  We must move to the central issue of the influence that model-theoretic arguments might have for one who in her theological semantics, is broadly speaking realist. 

II

While I could only sketch briefly in the last section my prima facie reservations with non-realist construals of theological language, I will assume in this section that the reader is sufficiently persuaded by what I have said to give theological realism a try.  Theological realism, simply put, is the view that God, and divine states of affairs generally, exist and have the particular contour they have apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language.   Theological realism is thus a species of external realism, the view the world consists of entities, properties, events, relations and states of affairs which, broadly speaking, exists independently of our human perceptual and conceptual processing, or, more to the point, apart from our epistemic structures and capabilities.   We might call this the independence thesis with regard to external realism. 

I am convinced with many others that external realism makes two other important claims as well.  The first is the correspondence thesis which claims that statements about the world are true if and only if they correspond in appropriate ways with how the world actually is. (Clarifying what 'correspondence' and 'appropriate' might mean here is notoriously difficult.)  The other thesis of external realism one can be called the Cartesian thesis which states that although our theories about the world might meet all theoretical and operational constraints of an ideal theory, we could still be wholly wrong in our theory.  Since the theory is made true (or false) by how the world is apart from us, it is always logically possible to be wrong about everything that we might say about it.  Satisfying all theoretical and operational constraints does not a theory true make.  Only the way the world is can make the theory true or false.  The external realist thus seems committed to all of these: the independence thesis, the correspondence thesis, and the Cartesian thesis.  

Hilary Putnam in his famous "Models and Reality" distinguishes among three positions in the philosophy of mathematics.  These positions deal with both truth and reference in mathematics, and are thus, for him and for us, relevant to considerations of truth and reference with respect to external realism generally.  These positions are: 

• Platonism which, according to Putnam, "posits nonnatural mental powers of directly 'grasping' the forms" (Models and Reality, p. 24). This notion of grasping is primitive and cannot be further explicated.  Those familiar with Husserl's description of phenomenological intentionality will understand this quickly.  
• Verificationalism replaces the classical Tarskian notion of truth with verificational processes or proof.  Mathematic assertions are not true in any deep sense, but they are assertible on the basis of other mathematical procedures. Verificationist proposals within the philosophy of science of the last century are connected to this. 
• Moderate Realism, for Putnam, "seeks to preserve the centrality of the classical notions of truth and reference without postulating nonnatural powers" (Ibid.).  The idea here is that mathematical assertions are true, but that their truth does not involve one in a deep process of grasping or understanding the structure of some Platonic heaven.  

Putnam believes that arguments built upon the "Skolem-Paradox" are germane to a moderate realist perspective within mathematics and the external realist perspective in metaphysics generally.  These arguments are known in the literature as "model theoretic" arguments, and they basically exploit the difference in model theory between what might be intended and what might be said.  If one is a non-naturalist when it comes to semantics -- that is, if one thinks that semantic objects, properties, relations and functions are natural objects and does not involve non-natural magic -- then one has a problem with reference, because many models can make true the very same class of sentences.  This means, that one cannot naturally fix reference, that is, what the sentences say is logically independent from what one might mean to say in their saying.  

Putnam draws conclusions from this that are quite far reaching.  For instance, he claims that metaphysical realism (external realism generally) in incoherent, and that 'brain in vat' or 'evil demon" (Descartes) scenarios cannot even be coherently stated.  Putnam throughout tries to show that, because of the problem of reference, one cannot even state the conditions necessary to formulate the brain-in-vat/evil demon hypothesis. In other words, the necessary conditions for the possibility of posing the brain-in-vat scenario cannot obtain because a certain type of reference must be had by the language in stating the scenario, and since this type of reference cannot be had, the scenario cannot be coherently stated.  In other words, while it might appear that we could be a brain in a vat, we really can't be one, for to be one demands that we can refer to being a brain in a vat, and this we cannot do.  

Putnam employs a bit of a technical branch of logic known as model theory and there are considerable arguments in the literature about the effectiveness of his employment of these resources.  There are arguments as to the number and effectiveness of distinct model-theoretic arguments that Putnam uses, and their ultimate effectiveness in attacking metaphysical realism. All of this, I will lay out at another time.  What is important for us, however, is this question: Why is any of this important for theology? 

III

I believe that theological language must be given a realist construal if we are to retain it.  Long ago, I argued that the arguments for the elimination of theological language are strong, and that only a realist interpretation of theological language will likely stem the collapse of such language into reduction and ultimate elimination.  I can't rehearse that here, but know that I believe that theological realism best coheres with the principle that to be is to have causal powers. 

Notice now that if we afford to theological language realist truth conditions we seem to be interpreting it in ways that best connect to the classical Christian tradition.  Believers throughout the centuries assumed that there is a God, that one could refer to God, and that once could talk meaningfully about God's relationship with His universe, both in terms of creation and redemption.  It is extremely difficult, I think, to argue that the horizon of the Reformation is one in which one of the three following is not presupposed: theological realism, semantic realism, and theophysical causation.  The Reformers thought that God exists apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language, that our language about God is true or false apart from the ways in which we verify or come to hold it true or false, and that God is in principle capable of causal relations with nature and the historical realities of nature.  

So on the assumption of external realism when it comes to theology, what are the repercussions of model-theoretic arguments on theological semantics?  

At this point we must appreciate how important reference is for theological language.  We are using theological words and phrases, and if we must ultimately give a realist construal to theological language then reference turns out to be the key to theological semantics generally.  'God is in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself' is true only if 'God' refers, 'Christ' refers, 'world' refers, and the relation of 'reconciling' can be drawn between the world and Christ.  But now the question, if reference is so important, why cannot it be something intended?  Why can we not simply say that intentionality fixes reference and that we don't need to worry about model-theoretic considerations at all?   Remember, Putnam had said that model-theoretic arguments really apply to the moderate realist in mathematics and the metaphysical realist; they are not aimed at one who holds that intentionality can be fixed nonnaturally by something like Husserl's "ego rays."  If one wants to hold intentionality as a nonexplicatable primitive, then can't we simply say that our intentionality determines reference in the theological order, as well as the mathematical and metaphysical orders? 

Here is the problem with this response.  While one might hold that one can intend cherries or trees by nonnaturally fixing one's gaze upon them, one cannot seem easily to do that when it comes to God or the inner workings of the Trinity.  After all, "nobody has ever seen God."  How can one intend that which has no clear content?  The theological tradition knew the apophatic nature of God-talk.  We can never be given the proper content to think God, because the content of our thoughts pertain to the finite order and God is infinite. Our thoughts of God do not thus determine our reference to God; our intentionality cannot issue in reference, because we cannot be given that by virtue of which reference is determined. Instead of intentionality granting an intensionality that determines reference, our theological language -- the language of the tradition -- speaks about God and God's relationship to His creation.  The ways of talking about God are very important indeed!  God's name is that by virtue of which reference is established, and maybe for Christians -- or perhaps all the monotheistic religions of the west -- this happened at the burning bush.  (Recall here Kripke's "initial baptism" of the tretragrammaton at the burning bush in Exodus.) 

It is important here to grasp what is at stake. If intentionality cannot fix reference to the divine, and if we don't want to give up truth to some verificationist-inspired theological position -- that is to say, if we want to be realists in theology -- then we seem to find ourselves in theology with no other option than to have to take the model-theoretic arguments seriously with regard to theological realism.  This means that not only are model-theoretic arguments relevant to theology, they might be crucial to its very future.  If model-theoretic arguments yield a knock-out blow to external realism, of which theological realism is a species, and if realism is essential in providing a defendable semantics for theology, then model-theoretic arguments may pose a much deeper threat to theological discourse than we previously might have thought. 

So what is at stake with respect to model-theoretic consideration in theological semantics?  I think it likely that the future of theology itself might be at stake. But consideration of this must await another time.  It is upon that which I am toiling a new manuscript.  

Extensionality, Description and the Question of Good Works: Towards An Anomalous Monergism?

 The great American philosopher Donald Davidson (1917-2003) wrote the following about causality:

The salient point that emerges so far is that we must distinguish firmly between causes and the features we hit upon for describing them, and hence between the question whether a statement says truly that one event caused another and the further question of whether the events are characterized in such a way that we can deduce, or otherwise infer, from laws or other causal lore, that the relation was causal ("Causal Relations," The Journal of Philosophy, 64 (1967), 691-703).  

Davidson's point in this famous article is that causality has an extensional nature.  If a causes b, it is, in fact, the event a that causes b to obtain, and this is a causal relation that obtains apart from however a and b might be described.   

Compare the following: 

1. Jack fell down and broke his crown.
2. That Jack fell down explains the fact that Jack broke his crown. 

Clearly, (1) bespeaks extensionality and (2) intensionality.  Very simply put, extensionality concerns what there is, while intensionality deals with how we might pick out or refer to what there is.  For example, in f(x) = y +2 for natural numbers N where 1< y < 5, the intension is the rule 'y +2' applied to either 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5, while the proposition's extension is {<1, 3>, <2, 4>, <3, 5>, <4, 6>, <5, 7>}. 

What is there a difference between (1) and (2) above?  (2) is concerned with the relation between two descriptions, 'Jack fell down' and 'Jack broke his crown'. These two sentences are related by the operation of causally explaining.  Notice, however, that (1) does not connect to descriptions at all, for the 'and' in (1) is concerned with the actual events of Jack falling down and Jack breaking his crown.  

Assume that d is the event of Jack falling down and c is the event of Jack breaking his crown. Notice that event d  may cause event c without any recourse to modal terms.  Clearly, the singular event d and the singular event c, both denizens of the extensional, cannot be connected by a modal operator, for modality applies to events only in so far as they are properly described.  Modality is de dicto and not de re.  In Humean terms, it concerns the relations of ideas, not the matters of fact.  

One could, I suppose, have a general law claiming that for all x, if x falls down then x breaks x's crown.  Such an occurrence may be so regular that one might, I suppose, claim that it is necessarily the case, that for all x, if x falls down then x breaks x's crown. But this modal operator which concerns relations between ideas (or language) might be replaced by a far more modest operator in intensional contexts, the causal explanation operator.  We have our stories about the world and the behavior of objects within it.  We know that there are features instanced in Jack's falling down and Jack's breaking his crown, such that the features of the first causally explains the features of the second.  Thus, it is true that Jack's falling down causally explains the breaking of Jack's crown.  

But Jack is the man most to be pitied on Beecher Street, and while his falling down is the most unfortunate event of his lifetime,  his breaking of his crown is that that issued in his wife leaving him. Does causal explanation still work as we substitute descriptions for singular events salve veritate?

3. That the man most to be pitied on Beecher Street suffered the most unfortunate event of his lifetime causally explains the fact that his wife left him. 

Clearly, any law connecting fallings and breakings is now no longer at issue. Here the connection is between unfortunate events happening to guys on Beecher Street and their wives abandoning them.  While one might think the causal explanation operator in (2) is apt, its use in (3) seems much more problematic.  But how can causal relations depend upon the descriptions of d and c?  Is it not simply about the relations between these two events however they might be described? 

Davidson developed a theory of token identity in the philosophy of mind that exploits the difference between causal relations and causal explanation.  Imagine that there is some event e such that it can be given both a neuro-physical and psychological description.  The neural event that e is is presumably related to other neural events, but the mental description of that event -- perhaps a particular thinking of one's particular mother when she was 36 -- cannot seemingly be relatable to other mental events causally in the same way.  After all, neural events do not swim in the waters of the normative.  My thinking of my mother when she was 36 might be followed by a particular thought of the appropriateness of my love for her, and this is clearly a matter of normativity.  One ought to love one's mother, after all; it is right to do so.  

One might generalize from these reflections into the philosophy of action.  What is the best explanation why Bob gets in his vehicle and drives the 25 miles to the airport at 4:50 p.m. on April 23?  It is that Bob believes that his wife Jan is flying home on the 6:00 p.m. plane from Chicago, and that Bob has a desire to see her.  Causal explanations for why we do what we do our routinely cast in the language of beliefs and desires, and not in the language of neural states.  It would be odd, after all, to say that Bob is getting in his vehicle at 4:50 on April 23 because Bob's neurophysiological states coupled with appropriate external sensations caused it to be so. What kind of causal explanation for Bob's behavior refers simply to brain states and perceptual inputs?  How could knowing the neural events of Bob causally explain the purpose he had when entering his auto? 

Davidson's token identity theory of the mental and physical simply points out that our mental life with its complexities of purpose in beliefs in desires is physically realized, that is to say, that some set of neuro-events realizes our mental states.  Davidson is not a substance dualist, after all, claiming that there is an ontic realm of mental events, entities, properties, relations or functions that can exist on its own, and whose processes are simply coordinated with physical events, entities, properties, relations of functions in the brain, and that, in principle, one might be able to draw causal connections between the mental and the physical.  By claiming a token identity between mental states and some brain states or other realizing these mental states, Davidson believes he can protect the anomalousness of the mental while not acquiescing to dualism.  His position is appropriately called anomalous monism.  The point is that one event can have different descriptions, and that there is a certain irreducibility of the mental to the physical.  Accordingly, the complexities of our mental life cannot be either explained or predicted by pointing to the existence of strict scientific law -- if there actually is such -- at the neuro-level.  

Whether or not Davidson's position of anomalous monism is finally defensible is not my concern here.  I advert to this only because I want to show again the importance of description when it comes to events. Causal explanation is possible because of the descriptions we give to a particular event.  Causal explanation involves language, in our use of language to highlight features of events we want to explain.  Causal relations, however, are ultimately extensional, they are drawn between events however they might be described.  That event e causes event e', is a feature of the world, not a feature of our description of the world -- or so one might argue.   But what might any of this have to do with theology? 

In the Lutheran tradition there has been since the beginning profound controversy about the status of good works in salvation.  Classically, one might ask, "are good works necessary for salvation?"  An unreflective quick response is simply "no!"  "Good works do not save us before God, so good works are not necessary for salvation."  It is perhaps a response like this that underlies the suggestion by Amsdorf and others that good works might even be harmful for salvation. 

But reflecting on the logical form of the statement, 'Good works are necessary for salvation' does not mean 'if good works, then salvation'.  If 'if A then B' obtains, then A is sufficient for B, and B is necessary for A.  The proper translation of 'good works are necessary for salvation' is 'if salvation, then good works', that is, 'if not good works, then no salvation'. Those claiming that good works are necessary for salvation are clearly not claiming that by doing good works, one might be saved; they are not saying that good works are sufficient for salvation.  Good trees bear good fruit.  If God makes the tree good, then good fruit will follow.  Therefore, good works are necessary for salvation. 

But merely pointing to the logic, does not seemingly solve the controversy.  Those espousing monergism, that we are saved wholly by God apart from our own agency, want to protect divine autonomy.  They are deeply suspicious of language having to do with human working and doing, of language having to do with human discipling, for such language suggests human agency; the language itself suggests synergism.  Luther was profoundly critical of the category of created grace, the notion that God through his agency might create in human beings ontologically-extended dispositions to behave, and thus that there might be something in human beings on the basis of which the divine imputation of righteousness rests.  Luther accordingly rejects the notion that human beings have been made right, and on that basis, they are pronounced right; the Gerechtmachung grounds the Gerechtsprechung.  But if this were so, were we given such goods, then why and how could we who have benefitted so deeply utter as did Luther in his final hours, "Wir sind bettler, hoc est verum?"  

There are standard moves in this debate, a debate that is connected to the so-called "third use of the law." My purpose here is not to get into the debate and follow the lines of reasoning that have a certain plausibility no matter upon which side one finds oneself.  My purpose here is simply to propose something new that might move the conversation forward.  

What if we took seriously the distinction between the event of the person doing a good work and its description?  Let me be more clear, what if we took seriously the distinction between d, the event of a person behaving in a particular way, with its description as to what the person was doing in that event d?  After all, Paul's ingredience in d could be described as both the doing of a good deed through Paul's own agency or as a divinely-gifted doing where it is no longer I who live but He who lives in me.  The point is this, the same event d is multiply describable. It can be described on the basis of a human agent believing that he must do the act and desiring so to do it, or it can be described as a behavioristic input/output function, or it can be described as wholly caused by the Holy Spirit. Our background assumptions and theories deeply influence how the event might be described.  The same event can be given a description in terms of beliefs and desires and the intent by the person to "do what is within them."  It can be described, solely in monergistic terms; the event is that work that is worked by God in us propter Christum and by grace through faith; or the event could be described perhaps without averting to so-called "folk psychological ascriptions" at all.  If we were to give a neuro-description to the event, it would make no sense in giving a casual explanation to the event to speak of the Holy Spirit's causality or the desire to be saved and the belief that that a particular doing, a suitable description of d, motivates the doing.  

The language of discipleship -- what is it to be a fisherman that follows -- is clearly a different language than the language of apostolicity -- what heralds does God establish in His Wording of the world.  Both languages can be developed quite thickly, with language available to speak of all sorts of events, and both languages can provide causal explanations.  This being said, however, there still is some underlying events that are what they are because of causal relations they sustain with other events. The fact that no language can mime the contour of these causal relations does not tell against their presence.  The extensionality of causal relations of such d doings by Paul might not be able to be articulated in the languages by which events like d are described.  Here we are talking about propositional attitudes, about the believings of people doing d.  Here we are at the level of the intensional.  

Although I have not defended anamolous monism, in closing I want to open up the possibility of an anamolous monergism.  What if Davidson is right, and that there are simply causal relations at the neuro-level that support mental descriptions where causal explanation is possible?  What if one could be a nonreductive physicalist of such a kind?  Does this have relevance for the theological issue at hand? 

Imagine that the Holy Spirit has a causality such that some human events are caused by the Holy Spirit.  After all, maybe Luther is right in that we are either ridden by the devil or Christ.  If the Holy Spirit causes that event we might describe as a good work, then clearly no human agency is determinative in its doing.  Clearly, this is an embrace of monergism.  But what about our description, our own self-understanding of that event?   

Surely, we could causally explain that act in terms of beliefs and desires.  We could have an intent to do what God would have us do, and we could believe that that doing is meritorious somehow before God.  We live lives that are thus pleasing to God, and we try in all we do to keep God's commandments.  We learn more about God and we attempt to follow Christ in all we do.  All of this description of our life of faith, as thick or thin as we might want, could be seen as realizable within the underlying divine causality upon human events. Clearly, the language of belief, desire, intentionality, and following is not reducible to the language that describes the Holy Spirit's causality upon our behavior.  From the standpoint of the extensional, God authors are events, but from the standpoint of the intensional, are doings realized by those events can be explained in therms of the motivations of living the Christian life.  

What I am suggesting here is an anamolous monergism that neither undercuts the reality of monergism, nor does it downplay the complex experience of living out the Christian life. There are deep philosophical and theological objections to this view, of course, but I do think that the main point might be defendable: The penchant to good works is a way of talking or describing Christian lived existence, and this way of talking or describing does not have to contradict the reality that I cannot cause that event that might be described as a Christian following.  Similarly, third use of the law talk need not contradict the reality that there are only two proper uses.  But this topic must await a later treatment.   

On Rabbits and Christology

The philosopher Willard Van Orman Quine schooled us on the indeterminacy of translation using the example of a tribesman speaking the unknown language Arunka employing the locution 'gavagai' whenever he saw what we might think is a rabbit.  But while we might think that 'gavagai' refers to the object rabbit, we can never know for sure what the tribesman is actually referring to when employing 'gavagai'.  There is, after all, an inscrutability of reference.  

I can imagine a culture, that does not individuate the world like my own does.  Perhaps the tribesman's culture actually has no rabbits, but does work the world up by thinking in terms of temporal rabbit stages.  Let S be a linguist from culture X and P be a tribesman from culture Y.  X sees the world as a place where there are unified rabbits while Y understands that the world is a place where there are rabbit parts, some detached and some undetached.  When P utters 'gavagai', P is referring to a set of undetached rabbit parts, but when S hears P utter 'gavagai', S thinks in terms of rabbits.  So what is there really?  Does the world come with rabbits as a basic ontological category, or is it a place where rabbit parts proliferate and where 'gavagai' refers to a collection or set of rabbit parts suitably ordered? 

Suppose Q from culture Z uses 'gavagai' only to talk about a set of temporal rabbit stages.  Culture Z is extremely time sensitive, and they "see" the world as a place where the temporal slices of things are ontologically primary. The linguist S hearing 'gavagai' could scarcely imagine that Q associates the term with a set of temporal slices of a particular kind. Again Q's culture finds temporal slices of things ontologically primary to the collections in which they are ingredient. So what is there really?  Does 'gavagai' properly refer to rabbits or to temporal rabbit stages?  Or does it rightfully refer to spatially extended, undetached rabbit parts?  

Mereology is concerned, of course, with the unities that parts comprise.  Culture X finds a unity in the rabbit which is made up of parts. But cultures Y and Z seem to find unities in the parts that comprise collections.  Our question really boils down to a question of what the proper unities there are of things, and if there are no such unities in themselves, what unities we seemingly commit ourselves to when experiencing and articulating the world. 

But there are other possibilities than those of P and Q and their cultures. What if R and his friends read so much Plato that they actually see the world as the "shadowy place" where the primary forms are dimly instantiated?  R and his culture U work the world up such that rabbithood has ontological priority over rabbits, over any concrete instantiation of that  rabbithood. But while we might say that rabbithood is instantiated in rabbits, culture U might simply say, "there is rabbitthood here."  Each and every time R uses 'gavagai', S uses 'gavagai', but they are not meaning the same thing in their using of the term.  S means rabbits, after all, while R means that rabbithood is present.  So what is there really?  Does the world come with rabbits pre-made, as it were, or is their existence ontological dependent upon something more basic: the form of rabbithood? Is the particular ontologically dependent upon the universal, or does the universal ultimately depend upon the particular?

Finally enter T of culture V who sees the world quite differently than the rest. Everything is made up of processes for the denizens of V.  Perhaps it is not the raindrops that a culture knows, but the entire process of raining.  Perhaps rain drops are ontologically dependent upon the event of rain. A fortiori, perhaps rabbits are mere distillations of rabbiting.  When T utters 'gavagai' she means that it is rabbiting.  What is there really?  Does 'gavagai' refer to rabbits, undetached rabbit parts, temporal rabbit stages, the form of rabbithood, or the event of rabbiting itself?  If people in cultures X, Y, Z, U and V use 'gavagai' in similar ways and on similar occasions, then how could we ever tell what S, P, Q, R and T really mean when employing the term?  Is there not an inscrutability of reference here? How can S ever really know what P, Q, R and T are referring to when they use 'gavagai' each and every time they are in the presence of what S assumes is a rabbit? 

Quine's indeterminacy thesis has been around for many decades. The statement of the thesis is consistent with reflection within the last seventy years on language and its relationship with the world. How does language anchor to the world?  What is the world?  Does it come as a set of self-identifying objects, properties or events?  Are there natural kinds, or do human beings gerrymander the world, imposing through their individuation their own ontological prejudices upon it?  Whose power is served by understanding the world to have rabbits at its deepest level rather than rabbithood?  Who is marginalized by seeing rabbiting instead of undetached rabbit parts?  If the world has no objective ontology, but rather receives the ontology of our prejudice, then does not ontology become a projection of our interest and power, specifically as pertains our race, sex, class, sexual orientation, etc.?  

Indeed. One might say that if the world has no ready made ontological structure, then the world is really worldless, for it becomes merely the field that the self projects.  Accordingly, the world cannot sustain an over and againstness with respect to the self to which it relates. Here, the self devours the world.  

But as the last hundred years of reflection has taught us: there is no privileged access to an objective self that can be full of itself. The self that is not full of itself, is itself a battle ground of different cultural, linguistic and conceptual ideologies.  The self is dispossessed, and the worldless world now finds itself in relation to a dispossessed self. The world and self each have lost their inseity, and must now be understood ecstatically. We now suspect that while the putative determinacy of the world rests upon the putative determinacy of the self, the putative determinacy of the self rests upon that which is not itself and can never be itself.  So in these late postmodern days there is ripening the realization that world and self, the original Dyad, has breathed illusion since the Beginning.  But I digress.  

It is important for theology to know the ontological contour of the land it must work. Theology must relate the kerygma to the concrete historical-cultural situation in which it finds itself.  Theology must concern itself with proclaiming and understanding the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth in a time of a worldless world and a dispossessed (self-less) self. Accordingly, it must understand how to do christology in this time of rabbits. 

Looking at christology in this time of the absence of presence of world and self -- this time of the indeterminacy of reference and translation -- it is clear that we are going to have to specify what we mean in ways we have never had to do before in the history of theology.  Because meaning is no longer "in the head" -- we have no immediate access to a cartesian self with pure intent -- we are only going to gain clarity as to what we mean by employing the tools of semantic modeling.  

Language is syntax and theory, and theory refers semantically to that which is not language.  There must be something that language is about if there is ever going to be the possibility of truth and objectivity.  If language is not to collapse into itself -- or into the black hole of the self -- it must specify something in the world that it means, something on the basis of which it is true or false.  As we have seen, that to which language refers can be expressed set-theoretically.  What is necessary is that we start with a domain of objects, and then define relation and function operators on this domain. In this way we, we provide the possibility of an extra-linguistic reference to language.  (At least this is the hope.  Clearly, if one holds that sets and operations are affairs of language, then we are thrust back into Derrida's position of language being an "infinite play of signifiers.). 

So what do we do with christology in a time of the relativity of rabbits?  Clearly, just as we are able to specify the salient differences between undeatached rabbit parts, temporal stages of rabbits, and the instantiation of rabbithood, we must be able to specify the differences in meanings of 'person', 'nature', 'happy exchange', 'justification' or 'theosis' when it comes to Christ.  But what are the conditions for the possibility of difference?  What makes if possible that "gavagai" could apply to such different things?  More to the point, what are the conditions for the possibility that differences of meaning of 'person' and 'nature' could obtain?  

Some theology proceeds, I think, on the assumption that if one can use language in the same way and in the same situations, then there is substantial agreement about meaning in that language.  If one can say, "it is true that Christ is one person in two natures," then do we have to say anything more about persons and natures?  Why provide some set-theoretic interpretation to theology theory, if "this game is played," that is, that the language of theology is used appropriately and consistently whether used by person S or P above?  

But this objection misses the point. That a game is consistently played does not entail that meaning is consistently had. In a time when an unbridgeable chasm has opened between what is intended and what is said, we have no choice but to provide the relevant models for christological language, pointing out that language's possible interpretations and evaluating those interpretations in terms of their overarching theological plausibility.  In this time of the worldless world and the self-less self, language itself must police itself such that the proclamation of the wording Word is pronounced with clarity.  

Doing christology in a time of rabbits demands we understand profoundly the challenges to christological reflection in the twenty first century. Our naivety is gone.  Even the stability of what Quine called "stimulus meaning" is seemingly absent for theology. While linguist S sees and understands the stability of P, Q, R, and T's occasions of uttering "gavagai' in the face of some experience which can be understood differently, what constitutes the stability in uttering 'person' christologically, an uttering that seemingly is not linked deeply to experience at all?  

There is ultimately no other choice here for finding stability in the occasions of use of 'person', than to locate that stability within the Bibical-historical tradition of the Christian community.  In this time of the worldless world, and self-less self, there can be only the linguistic event of the utterance of 'person' consistently and stably throughout the Christian tradition.  While Quine could speak of the stimulus meaning of 'gavagai' in a field of perception, christological reflection must locate a meaning of 'person' within the revelatory event of the Biblical-historical tradition itself.  Only when we can make sense of the stability of occasions of using 'person' can we begin the task of providing models for the interpretation of 'person' christologically.  

Clearly, there is a great deal of work that must be done.  However, the first step in moving forward is to no what direction is presupposed in the semantics of 'forward'.  Beginning with rabbits can help us in christology, but the path forward is not at all easy.  In fact, some of the way forward will not look like a path at all.  But this is how it must be if we are going to do christology in this time of rabbits.  

Luther and Heidegger: Modeling the Destruction of Metaphysics

The International Luther Congress beckons this summer and I am thinking about doing something on Luther and Heidegger in the seminar on Luther and Philosophy. I am old enough now to remember Luther Congresses 35 years ago and more where this topic was not of deep interest. Having written a dissertation on Luther's theological semantics, I was from my first Luther Congress interested in these matters, and remember being introduced to the Finnish work in this area in Oslo in 1988. 

The following is the abstract for my paper on Luther and Heidegger this Sumer.  The seminar headed by Jennifer Hockenbery asks participants to relate Luther to the philosophical tradition through consideration of the notion of freedom. 

________

Much has been written about Heidegger’s indebtedness to Luther (along with Paul and Augustine) in the development of central themes of Being and Time e.g., death, fallenness, guilt, sin, freedom, etc. Heidegger breaks here with Husserl and western philosophy’s dream to frame a consistent and coherent theory adequate and applicable to all the facts, both physical and metaphysical. In the early 1920s Heidegger was interested in the phenomenology of Christian life, what it was to-be-unto-the-Parousia. He discerned in Luther a friend in uncovering the meaning of factical Christian existence, that primordial self-understanding from, and through which, any talk of theological “facts” can emerge.  

But the parallels between Luther’s critique of late medieval Scholasticism and Heidegger’s critique of Catholic theology in his time -- both are interested in the destructionof the abstract metaphysical in favor of the phenomenology of concrete lived existence – can occlude what profoundly differentiates the two approaches: Luther’s “Christian being” cannot be conceived apart from an encounter with the Other, an encounter that cannot be interpreted either as Zuhandensein or Vorhandensein. One must not confuse the experientia of Luther’s theologian with the experience of the peasant or particle physicist. The phenomenological ontological approach “laying bare” the being-in-the-world of both occludes the “stand on being” assumed in the approach itself, an approach that itself finally must stand before God. 

In this paper, I review the research into Luther and Heidegger with an eye toward towards an appropriation of the start differences between them, particularly with respect to the question of freedom. What is constructive here is my employment of model theory to show the truth-conditions of the sentences used in the analysis. Clarity on the semantics of sets of sentences about Luther’s experientia, Heidegger’s phenomenological ontology of Christian life, and the enterprise of their comparison provides greater precision and accuracy in evaluating the differences in their respective projects. 

_________

I have for some time thought that theologians should know the basics of model theory so that they might gain greater clarity into their own theological and ontological assertions. I will endeavor to provide a brief introduction to model theory in this summer's paper, and use it to clarify the difference between Luther and the early Heidegger's project of disclosing the primordial factic life of the Christian prior to the making and evaluation of abstract theological assertions.  

Getting Outside the World

Once I came to understand Heidegger's account of "world" and "the world-ing of the world" in Sein und Zeit, I have thought it fundamentally correct.  If one begins with Descartes' cogito, there simply is not a way to "build a bridge" to the world.  (Descartes famously tried to justify the existence of, and the determinate shape of, the external world on the fact that God is not a deceiver, and we are justified in asserting God because we have an idea of perfection.)  Far better to begin with Heidegger with the fact that our be-ing is always already be-ing-in-the-world, that consciousness is always consciousness of a world. 

Husserl famously developed the method of phenomenological inquiry that putatively bracketed the metaphysical questions of materialism and naturalism and advocated an ad fontes return to the things themselves in introspection, grasping, as it were, through the eidetic reduction things in their essential thingness.   The method was to choose an object, vary imaginatively the features of it, and ultimately grasp what it is that cannot be eliminated if the object is to be the object it is. 

While Husserl's phenomenological reduction of bracketing judgments about the ultimate nature of the world in favor of describing carefully one's experience of the world was supposed to leave in abeyance the metaphysical question of materialism and idealism, it is pretty clear that an argument can be built plausibly claiming that Husserl is committed to a type of idealism.  (The transcendental reduction abandons our natural attitude on the world in favor of a description of the intersubjective space of the transcendental ego.) 

The question that concerns me is whether Husserl's student, Martin Heidegger is also finally committed to a type of idealism.  After all, is not his world the sum of significances in which one pre-reflectively finds oneself, a world in which one finds one's way?  Is not this world and its complex relationships of meaning present only for Da-sein (Being-there), a world which is itself a pole of Da-sein and thus forever within its arena of consciousness.  (My apologies to Heidegger for using "consciousness," but I think that an argument can be made that being-in-the-world just is to be conscious.)  We are pre-reflectively always coping with the world, a world that tends to disclose itself when our regular coping breaks down.  (Heidegger famously points out that we don't really know what a hammer is -- what it means -- until we are without it in a relevant context.) 

Heidegger's distinction between Zuhandenheit and Vorhandenheit is meant to get at the distinction between our everyday dwelling in the world of the "ready to hand" and our occasional examination of objects in this world with a critical distantiation, a distance that allows us to investigate the object as it is in itself.  (We might translate the latter as "present at hand.")  When our hammering no longer happens pre-reflectively, we might instead attend to the properties of the hammer and thus attempt to consider the hammer as it is in itself, as disconnected from the web of significances within our being-in-the-world.  In so doing, we might try to correct the hammer so that it can again recede into the ready-to-hand significances of our primordial dwelling in the world.

But this distinction between Zuhandenheit and Vorhandenheit seems to be a distinction in and for Dasein in its own consciousness as it attempts to grasp objects in its world in different ways.  The reading off of the objective properties of the hammer is a function of the attitude in which Dasein engages the world, and it is difficult to locate the grounds to claim that the adoption of this attitude of reading off succeeds in getting us to the thing as it might be out beyond the world of Dasein.  If ready-to-hand is a dwelling of Dasein in its being-in-the-world, then is not present-at-hand also a type of comporting, a comporting that is ultimately found in a web of meaning in and for Dasein, and thus not a deworld-ing of the world in favor of the objectivity of the thing? 

Hubert Dreyfus has famously claimed that Heidegger escapes idealism through the de-worlding move of "formal indication" (formale Anzeige).  He points out that Heidegger was really quite interested in questions of what the world is in itself, and that Heidegger thus thought it possible to refer to objects as the objects they are without the nature of the objects being determined within the holism of the context of meaning in which they are ingredient.  Comparing this move to Kripke's notion of rigid designation, Dreyfus argues that Heidegger too could have understood reference to objects apart from their descriptions and contexts.

Kripke talked about an "initial baptism" that connected name to thing, and allowed for increasing understanding of the thing and finally a grasp of the essence of that thing apart from the ways we might describe or pick out the thing.  (The atomic number of gold is essential to gold, its necessity is, however, a posteriori.  That which first allowed examination of gold, those properties by which we might unreflectively pick it out, turn out not to be essential to the thing.  Analogously, water is identified by being H2O, not by the properties of colorless, odorless, and tasteless.)   Dreyfus suggests that Heidegger's formal indication functions like Kripke's rigid designation, and that this move allows Heidegger, like Kripke, to escape the idealist net.  If this is so, then Heidegger like Kripke is committed to the ontology of natural kinds, the notion that there are, as Putnam says, self-identifying objects that exist apart from human perception and conception. 

There is quite a literature on the formale Anzeige in Heidegger, and clearly there is no consensus that such a move takes one to realism.  However, I do like the attempt to connect Heidegger's excellent analysis of what it is to be-in-the-world with resources that would allow the world to be in some sense without our being in it.  But the problem here does seem Kantian.  If the formale Anzeige takes us beyond the fuer sich of the world to the an sich of things, then how exactly does the an sich connect to the fuer sich?  In other words, how exactly is deworlding of the world possible? How are natural kinds possible beyond descriptions when they themselves are articulated in terms of descriptions?  What could a natural kind be apart from the language that articulates the kind as the kind it is, a language that operates both at the deworlding and worlding levels? What kind of faith is necessary to assert theoretical entities as having self-identifying being apart from their ingrediency in theories?  Can we find this primal place before language when, as Heidegger later says, language itself is the house of being?  Ultimately, can we locate essences out and beyond the results of an eidetic reduction?  If so, what would be the grounds of this conceivability?

Propositional Content, Truth-Conditions and Existential Empowerment

For a very long time I have puzzled over the relationship within theology among the notions of syntax, semantics and existential empowerment.  A proposition is uttered and has meaning.  A person hears it and orients himself in a different direction in the hearing.  The pastor utters, "Christ is risen." The parishioner hears the assertion and is seemingly empowered by it: She feels otherwise than she likely would have felt, thinks otherwise than she likely would have thought, and behaves differently than she otherwise would have behaved.  While all this seems clear, it is not.  In this brief article, I want to reflect upon this unclarity.

Preachers proclaiming the Word of God to hearers say such things as, "You are forgiven," "Christ died for you," "God hears your prayers," "God knows everything in your heart," "God demands that you help the poor," "God wants you to love your neighbor even as Christ has loved you," "The Holy Spirit in you is praying through you," and "God's gracious love makes all things new."  Obviously, in the course of any sermon, a preacher utters many statements like these.  As you look closely at them, it is clear that many really do prima facie have the form of statements; they seem to be claims about God, God's will for us, and God's gracious love of us.

If such statements were made in the presence of philosophers, there might erupt a discussion as to the truth-conditions (or lack of the same) of such statements.   What makes true the statements, 'Christ died for you', or 'God's gracious love makes all things new'?  What precisely must be the case for the statement 'Christ died for you' to be asserted as true?  Is it made true by the psychological properties of the utterer?  Is it made true by some set of events, entities, properties or states of affairs, the presence of which determines the statement's truth and the absence of which determines its falsity?

Or is the statement not true at all?  Perhaps it is a saying of the group that one must say to be part of a group.  Or perhaps it is merely an expression of one's own subjectivity, one's feelings and existential orientations.  Maybe the statements are really not statements at all, but rather pseudo-statements masquerading as statements with truth values.  Without a truth-value, a sentence cannot be a statement, it cannot state rightly or wrongly what is in fact the case.   It can, of course, be language that is nonetheless doing something.  For instance, it might make a promise or a command, express a feeling or hope, or give thanks or praise.  But without a truth-value, the statement cannot in principle make a claim rightly or wrongly about the way that things are.

Theologians, particularly Lutheran theologians, have recently displayed a penchant for disparaging ontology.  ('Recent' here connotes the last 225 years or so.)  They seemingly assume that the discipline having to do with being is not a discipline properly relatable to theology, the discipline having to do with logos or Word.  Perhaps they believe, or are somewhere on the trajectory of believing, with the Neo-Kantians that while the categories of 'being' and 'cause' are  appropriate for die Natur, they are out of place in the realm of der Geist (spirit), the region pertaining to 'value'.  Accordingly, theological ontology is misguided because it is an investigation which would locate God in an inappropriate region.  God would be, at best, a being among other beings -- albeit the highest of those beings.  But how could a being among beings be a being that fulfills the primal condition of God being God: the condition that God is infinitely qualitative different than creation, that God is totaliter aliter than all that is?

Maybe they simply think that ontology is metaphysics and that interest in metaphysics is symptomatic of a theology of glory.  Instead of God revealing Himself in weakness and vulnerability on the Cross, human beings search for God on the basis of the created order, locating God at the apex of truth, goodness and beauty.  But is not such a metaphysical inquiry an attempt to build a bridge to the infinite by standing in the finite?  Is not that attempt a proud seeking after the glory of God in strength and impassibility?  "We must search for God where is revealed," they say, "We must find it in is in His Word, not search to unmask the hidden God!"

But these ways of thinking are simply confusions, most often perpetrated by those who have imperfect understandings of what ontology is and does.  Ontology is concerned with truth-conditions, with those conditions that must obtain to make true those statements we regard as such.  Whatever events, objects, properties and states of affairs which make such statements true are precisely those events, object, properties and states of affairs we hold exist.  Simply put, all of our statement utterings have ontological commitments.  Just as some state of affairs makes true the statement 'the cat is on the mat' -- presumably the existence of a cat, a mat, and a particular dyadic relation of "onto" such that the cat is onto the mat -- so some state of affairs would make true the statements 'Christ is resurrected from the dead', and 'Because Christ lives, you shall live also'.  But what might these be?

Now enters the traditional problem of religious language.  What exactly does 'Christ lives' mean and what would 'I live' mean in its wake? Clearly, we know what it is for something to live.  A being lives if it fulfills certain biological conditions.  But would Christ's living fulfill those conditions?  Perhaps, if we are thinking about Christ's living alongside Peter's living.  But is the Christ who lives alongside Paul's living a Christ who lives in the same way that Christ lived alongside of Peter's living?  What would a post-resurrected living be?  A fortiori what would a post-Ascension living entail?  Would a human living that is not a biological living be a living?  Perhaps one says, "yes," but it is not altogether clear what one is saying when saying it.

Everything I have said so far connects to the problem of the assertion of propositional content and the effect of such asserting on existential empowerment.  Pastor Roy goes to see parishioner Mary who has been battling cancer, and now appears to be rapidly losing the battle.  The doctors say she may have only weeks to live.  Pastor Roy says to Mary that death has not ultimate victory over her because Christ has conquered death and through His resurrection, she will be resurrected as well.  Mary thinks about this a moment and says, "Pastor, is that true, or are you just saying that to make me feel better."  Pastor Roy considers her statement and replies, "It is true, Mary, you will be resurrected with Christ."  Mary, always the skeptic, follows up, "But in what sense will I be resurrected?  Will I have a body and will I know myself to be the same person I was before I died?"  Pastor Roy deliberates a moment and then hazards the following: "Mary, I don't know if you will have a body that is like the body you now have, nor a psychology like that which you now have, I just know that you will be resurrected."  Mary is silent a moment and then returns to her original statement, "Pastor, is that true, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

Mary is concerned with the semantics of Pastor Roy's assertions.  What do the statements he is proclaiming mean, and are they true?  To know if they are true it seems, she must know what they mean.  But Mary knows that locating meaning logically prior to truth cannot ultimately explain what it is that 'meaning' means.  Mary grasps that for a statement to mean x rather than y, one must know the conditions under which x is true and y not.  Whatever these truth-conditions are, are what makes an assertion's meaning mean.  She knows that when Pastor Roy says to her, "Death does not have ultimate victory over you because Christ has conquered death and through His resurrection, you will be resurrected as well," it makes all the difference in the world to the assertion's meaning what must obtain in order for the sentence to be true.   What makes true Christ's conquering death and being resurrected such that she will be resurrected as well?  Moreover, is it not clear that whatever makes that true makes all the difference in the world as to how she feels, thinks and behaves in the hearing, over and against how she otherwise would have felt, thought and behaved?

A theological statement's semantics, its truth-conditions and truth, is intimately related to its ability to existentially empower.  What I am saying is that it makes a deep existential difference to most people in the face of impending death what it is about which they might legitimately hope.  But is this not merely a baseless assertion?  Why think that Mary's empowerment in the face of death depends upon some fact of the matter about Christ's life after death?  Is not the Word enough?  Is not the proclamation of the Word enough to empower?  Why get into semantics and philosophical discussion when none is clearly needed?

But it is clearly needed; this is the point.  The mere uttering of words cannot empowerment produce.  But is not the Word external?  Is that not enough?  It is only enough, I would say, if one were Zoroastrian and had to have all of the words right in order to produce the correct result.  It is enough only if one believes that words are magical bringing about effects without means.   Lutherans believe in the real presence, after all.  For the external Word to be really present demands that the Word appear in, under, around and beyond the words which bear it.  But in order for the Word to be present, it must mean.  Without meaning the Word remains in bare externality; it remains incapable of connection to fallen structures in need of salvation.  Blessed are they that know their need of God.

What I am suggesting is that a mature Lutheran theology of the Word can indeed connect to truth-conditions.  They are the means by which our hopes are fanned and fears quelled.  While the argument is difficult, is it not self-evident that Mary's fears about death and her hopes for a future beyond it are linked inextricably to what she thinks really is the case with regards to these things?  The Holy Spirit is carried by the Word and is ever related to the Word, and the Holy Spirit works through means.  Is not the Spirit's ability to deliver the Word through human words related to the empowerment of the hearer of the Word, an empowerment that depends upon the hearer knowing the meaning and truth of what is said?  Perhaps one might even say the Spirit forms the link between the proclamation of words, and the Wording of the Word in the salvation of its hearer.

So Mary went out and listened to the voice of Pastor Roy and her spirit was calmed, for Pastor Roy spoke a truth that she could not invent.  To have understood Roy in the flesh would have meant that she understand his remarks figuratively, for denizens of nature can only speak the spirit as an as if.  But because of God's Spirit she did not need to spiritualize the brutal facts of nature. Because of His Spirit, she knew in her spirit that Nature was a far bigger thing than ever she had realized.

Model-Theoretic Semantics and Theology

All too often we unthinkingly assume a "magical" view of language.   We naturally suppose that our language is anchored to the world correctly, as if our language intends to link to the world in a particular way.  For instance, we might believe that 'dog' uniquely refers to that class of which the canine at my heels is a member, and 'laptop' to that class of which this object upon which I type is an element.

However, reflection about the nature of such intentionality does not support these prima facie intuitions.    'Dog' cannot and does not intend the canine at my feet, though through appropriate human context and practice it may refer to that animal.   'Laptop' is conventionally linked to the object upon which I type these words, though it may not have been the case.

Hilary Putnam famously advanced the "model-theoretic argument against realism."  In it he purports to show that that an entire linguistic system considered as a totality cannot by itself determinately refer.   Representations, no matter how involved, are not agents and thus have no power to intend objects in the world.  Language, considered formally and syntacticly, does not in itself have meaning and cannot thus refer to the world.  Any attempt to give language such an intentionality through the use of model-theoretic semantics must fail.  In order to understand what Putnam is saying and its relevance for theology, we must understand what model-theoretic semantics is.

Model theory provides an interpretation to formal systems.  For the various symbols of a language, it assigns an extension, i.e., particular individuals, sets, functions and relations.  Model theory recognizes that since language does not magically intend objects in the world, the elements of language can only map to structures of objects.  Simply put,  given a particular function f, and any non-logical term p, f(p) graphs to a unique object in the world o.  In other words, there is a transformation from language to its extensional interpretation, a correspondence that is itself conventional.   Accordingly, while a particular function f1 maps 'dog' to the class of objects of which the canine at my feet is a member, another function f2 maps 'dog' to the last horse standing at Custer's last stand.  When we think language magically picks out the elements of the world, we simply forget that many other functional images of our language are possible.  Simply put, we forget that our language can sustain a large number of multivalent interpretations.

Model-theoretic semantics proceeds by constructing models which satisfy classes of statements, that jointly makes true those statements.   Take, for instance, this class C of statements:  'The cat is on the mat', 'John understands that an equivalence relation is reflexive', and 'All mats are owned by John'.   A model is an extensional interpretation I making all members of C true.  This might happen when 'cat' refers to the set of all domesticated felines, 'mat' to the set of all objects upon which one wipes one's feet, 'on' to a two place predicate Oxy specifying the set of all ordered pairs {x, y} such that x is adjacent and above y, 'John' to a particular person,  'understands' to a dyadic predicate Uxy forming the set of all ordered pairs {x, y} such that the first is an epistemic agent and y is that which is understood, 'equivalence relation is reflexive' to a member of the set of all concepts, and 'owned by' to a two place relation Wxy forming the set of all {x, y} such that x possesses y.  In addition, 'the cat' is a definite description uniquely picking out some member of the set of all domesticate felines, while 'the mat' uniquely refers to one member of the class of all objects upon which one wipes one's feet.  

The reader should reflect upon how difficult it is to provide an adequate intensional characterization of the set of mats or the set of things understood.   Fortunately, we don't have to pick all the properties that each and every member of the set has.  We can simply refer to the set whose members have these properties as well as others.  It is obvious that the three propositions above are true (or "satisfied") if there exists the sets in question and the members of these sets are related in the ways above specified. Let us call this interpretation I.  

Now notice that we can form I2 as follows:  Allow 'cat' to refer to the set of positive integers and 'mat' to refer to the set of negative integers, and "on to" (Oxy) to be the set of all ordered pairs {x, y} such that x is greater than y.   'The cat' now refers to a definite positive integer and 'the mat' to a particular negative integer.   Let 'John' refer to the positive integer 17 and 'understands' be the two place relation forming the set of all x such that x is the square root of y.   Assume that 'equivalence relation is reflexive' refers to 289, itself a member of the set of all odd numbers.  Finally, allow 'owned by' to refer to be the set of ordered pairs {x, y} in W, such that either x is greater than y v x=y v x is less than y.  While this interpretation may seem very artificial, it does in fact "satisfy" each member of C.  The point is that all sentences of C are true both on models I1 and I2.  

Model-Theoretic semantics provides abstract models satisfying classes of statements.  These models are sets obeying set-theoretic operations.  Clearly, we can think of the satisfaction of the classes of statements to be mappings from the constituents of those statements to unique set-theoretic structures; the relationship of the linguistic entities to their extensions are unique functions.  Each interpretation is a function from the linguistic to the set-theoretic because the following uniqueness condition holds where x is the linguistic and y the set-theoretic:  If and are members of f, then y = z. 

Putnam's argument purports to show that simply having a model that makes a class of statements true does not in and of itself determine reference.   There are an infinite number of models with different extensions that make the class of statements true!  Neither does representational similarity between the linguistic symbols and their extensions nor truth itself vouchsafe a unique reference for a language.

One way to grasp this is to consider Quine's gavagai example.   The anthropologist sees the native saying 'gavagai whenever presented with a rabbit.   But the anthropologist is sophisticated in his reflections and realizes that the native could mean 'undetached rabbit part' or 'rabbit event' or 'temporal rabbit stage'.   The model would seemingly be satisfied by any of these interpretations.   Language does not determine reference.

Putnam finds in the Lowenheim-Skolem theorem significant results which extend this insight.   The theorem holds that any satisfiable system -- that is, any system that has a model -- has a countable finite or infinite number of models.  Putnam generalizes the results of this theorem, showing that even in a system vast enough to incorporate all of our empirical knowledge, it would nonetheless be the case that there would be great numbers of models (and associated ontologies) satisfying all of the constraints of the system's theoretical and operational constraints.

While there is debate about whether Putnam's proof in "Model's and Reality" (see Realism and Reason, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983, pp. 1-25) commits a mathematical error, the general point is clear enough to anyone who has every taught an introductory logic course: Truth is always truth under an interpretation.   Agreeing on language does not an agreement make.   Agreement is only had if there exists agreement of language and a common interpretation or model.   Only if the same model is specified and there is agreement in truth-value among the relevant propositions can one speak of actual agreement.  

It should be obvious to anyone who reads theology that theological traditions have not always been clear about the interpretation of their language.   This becomes deeply clear in interfaith dialogues when two sides may use the same language, but mean something quite different with that language.   It happened, in my opinion, in the Evangelical Lutheran Church's adoption of three important documents between 1997-99:  Call to Common Agreement, the Formula of Agreement, and the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification.  The frustrating thing about those debates was that many of the participants either did not know that they needed to clarify the models they were using, or intentionally did not deeply reflect upon their interpretations for fear of losing the historic "agreement" between the parties that the ecumenical talks were supposed to engender.  

Maybe the proclivity of participants in ecumenical dialogues not to clarify the models they are assuming stems from a general historical practice among theologians to fail to specify the interpretations they employ in their own polemics and constructive work.

Take the following three propositions and assign them extensional interpretations I1 and 2.

• T1:   God creates the universe.
• T2:   All of creation has fallen into sin. 
• T3:   Through His Son, God redeems his fallen creation.  

Let I1 be the following interpretation: 

• 'God':    That being having all positive predicates to the infinite degree
• 'Creates':  A dyadic predicate whose extension is the relation {{x, y}: x causes there to be both the material and form comprising y}
• 'Universe':  All that exists outside of diving being
• 'Creation':   All that exists outside of divine being
• 'Falls':  A dyadic predicate whose extension is the relation {{x, y}: x is creation and y is the distortion of x under the conditions of present existence}
• 'Sin':  The distortion of creation under the conditions of present existence
• 'Son":  Hypostasis bearing the divine nature sustaining the following relationships of having been begotten by the hypostasis of the Father and spirating the hypostasis of the Holy Spirit
• 'Redeems':  A triadic predicate whose extension is the relation {{x, y, z}: x causes there to be reordering of y on account of z, such that x regards y as manifesting properties characteristic of the created universe 

Many readers may take issue with the extension I gave to T1-T3.   It would be an important exercise, I think, were all who employ theological language to attempt to provide a semantics like I just attempted.   It is by no means a simple task.   It is time, I believe, for theologians not simply to take responsibility for their theological language, but also for the interpretation they give that language.

Let I2  be the following interpretation:

• 'God':   To-beness in its totality.  That which is presupposed by the notions of being a particular being, and not-being a particular being
• 'Creates':  A dyadic predicate whose extension is the relation {{x, y}: x is conceptually presupposed by the class of all existing beings}
• 'Universe':  The set of all non-divine beings
• 'Creation':  The set of all non-divine beings
• 'Falls':  A dyadic predicate whose extension is the relation {{x, y}: x is creation and y is the set of attitudes, dispositions, and existential orientations of human beings phenomenologically present to human awareness as lacking the character of original creations
• 'Sin':  The existential of human existence towards the "what is" of the past rather than the "what might be" of the future 
• 'Son':  A symbol that points to and participates in the totality of being, and is capable of communicating the power of being itself phenomenologically to human beings
• 'Redeems':  A triadic predicates whose extension is the relations {{x, y, z}: x communicates the power of being itself to human beings (y) by means of the symbol of the Son (z)}  

The perceptive reader might find a trace of Tillich in interpretation I2.   The point to realize is that I1 and I2 both make T1-T3 true.   Both models satisfy a very small class of theological propositions.   Notice it is meaningless to ask if T1-T3 are true until a model has been specified upon which to evaluate their truth.  Here as everywhere in theology, truth is always truth under an interpretation.