Thanks for clarifying. My experience with Anglicans comes from going to an ACNA high school that used a BCP primarily based on the 1662 edition, so I hadn't realized how unusual they were being there.
Also, speaking of the ACNA, are they thought of much at all within the Church of England? I suspect I have a rather skewed perspective on their significance within global Anglicanism since I've associated with them so closely.
I have to admit I'd never heard of them before you mentioned them here, so I had to look them up! It seems they're not part of the Anglican communion, being a breakaway church formed in protest at too much liberalisation within Anglicanism, and are only in communion with the more insanely bigoted Anglican churches in Africa - though it seems there are moves to have them recognised and Justin Welby has been quite open to them. So evidently they're being thought about a lot at the higher levels, but whether they mean anything to the Anglican in the pew, I don't know.
Evidently, though, if they're a conservative church formed in reaction to what they perceive as overly liberal developments in Anglicanism (and the US Episcopalian Church is
very liberal), you would expect them to be using traditionalist liturgies, vestments, etc.
Also, the evangelical vicar on the show didn't wear any vestments, doing the service dressed like this:
Would that be unusual?
Not for evangelicals. Ministers at an Anglican evangelical church would normally wear normal clothes, or - if they're particularly formal - clerical suits with dog collars. Evangelical churches would never use vestments. The only time you'd see an evangelical Anglican priest in vestments would be if he's working at a church that is not as evangelical as he is.
Remember that evangelicals of any denomination don't believe in priests. An evangelical Anglican priest would call himself a "vicar" (even if he's not strictly speaking a vicar) or, more generally, a "minister" - never a "priest", even though that's what he is. (And I say "he" advisedly, since hardcore evangelicals are opposed to the ministry of women.)
What did you think of it? I personally thought the ending was flawed, but satisfying, but I know a lot of people really hated it.
I liked it. It was a bit of a cop-out ending really, but they did it well.
Yet I can't actually imagine doing this. Whenever I've done something wrong, and I have, I've generally invariably thought of some justification for doing it. Before, during, or after the act. I can't recollect any time when I didn't - any time when I knew fully and completely that what I was doing was wrong in every aspect.
Placing emphasis on the words "understands perfectly" allows me to claim that my understanding was simply imperfect.
The thief, of course, does know that stealing is wrong. Or rather he knows that human society judges it to be wrong. But he can justify it to himself in a whole host of ways: he's responding to his, or his family's, need, which he thinks trumps society's ban on theft, for example. Or because he sees society as having maligned him in some way, then he's justified in taking a measure of revenge against it. Or because he thinks that he's not stealing from an individual but "the system". Or, like Robin Hood, he's involved in wealth distribution.
My point is that we all do precisely this sort of thing when we decide to do something "wrong".
If you truly and completely "know" that something is wrong, you simply don't do it.
edit: perhaps it's like suicide. The suicide, although he doesn't really want to die (he really wants relief from the pain of living), thinks his death will be preferable than continuing to live. To do something which you know is completely wrong would be a bit like a suicide who really does want to die, who thinks that death, in itself, really is preferable to life.
But maybe I'm getting muddled now.
Ah, but that's your experience, based on the fact that you're a basically decent person. I'm not so optimistic about humanity as a whole. Just to take a current example: Marion Zimmer Bradley certainly knew that emotional, physical, and sexual abuse of vulnerable people is wrong, as is clear from her books. Yet she systematically abused her daughter in all these ways over many years. Now perhaps she, and others who do what they know to be wrong, are suffering from some kind of temporary amnesia or blindness; they know it's wrong, yet somehow in the moment other factors in the mind block out that knowledge. (This is what Aristotle thought happens.) But even if that's true, they're still doing things that they generally know to be wrong. And I don't believe that every criminal or wrongdoer rationalises what they do to make it right in their own mind. Indeed, isn't the very wrongness of an action sometimes what makes it all the more alluring?
Still, we're talking about human psychology here. Perhaps, as a matter of empirical fact, no-one ever does what they fully and genuinely know in that moment to be wrong. But that doesn't mean there
couldn't be a person who does. We can imagine a Dr Evil character, for whom the evilness of an act is a motive to do it, even if he couldn't exist in reality. The question wasn't about actual human beings but about God, and whether benevolence follows necessarily from omniscience. And it still seems to me that motive is distinct from knowledge. An omniscient being may know all moral facts, but I don't see why this should necessarily mean that he is motivated only to do what is right.
I tried to look through the old threads and see if this had been addressed, but I couldn't find anything directly on it, so I hope I'm not making you repeat yourself again:
Was Constantine a pagan who usurped and combined Christianity and Mithraism for his own ends, and eventually making a personal cult and placing himself as the embodiment of Jesus and Mithras - and Apollo?
This idea that Constantine was really a pagan and never became a Christian was first suggested by Jacob Burckhardt in the 1850s and it's one of those ideas that seems never to die, despite the lack of good evidence for it. A fundamental problem with it is that Christianity would have been a terrible choice for an emperor in the 310s who wanted to unify the empire. This was a minority religion which was itself deeply divided.
An even more fundamental problem is that we have a text probably by Constantine himself, the
Oration to the Saints, in which Constantine gives his theological views; they mainly revolve around monotheism and contain nothing objectionable from the point of view of mainstream Christianity. The documentary you link to goes on and on about Constantine's arch, insisting that it's the only direct evidence we have for his personal views - but it completely ignores what Constantine actually wrote!
The documentary makes out that Constantine legalised Christianity and then reinvented it. But both of these claims are over simplistic. Constantine and Licinius made official the legalisation of Christianity in 313, but Christianity had already been de facto legal in the western empire for nearly a decade - as the documentary itself acknowledges when it points out that Maxentius tolerated Christianity too.
The documentary focuses too much on the Eusebian story of the vision of the cross, and points out that the earliest evidence, such as Constantine's arch, doesn't support this story. But that doesn't show that Constantine didn't convert to Christianity. It only shows that the circumstances surrounding his conversion were probably a lot less dramatic, and probably less instantaneous, than later myth-making would suggest (including his own re-telling of the story, since Eusebius claims the emperor told it to him personally). And of course Lactantius gives a quite different and rather more believable version of the conversion before the Milvian Bridge. Of course the conversion didn't happen the way Eusebius describes, but so what? That doesn't mean it didn't happen.
Moreover, just becoming a Christian did not mean that someone immediately renounced everything to do with paganism and became conversant with Christian theology. You only have to read Arnobius of Sicca to know that. There's no reason at all to suppose that the moment Constantine became a Christian he started covering everything with crosses and getting rid of all pagan imagery. The absence of Christian imagery on his arch doesn't mean he wasn't a Christian; it just means that he didn't think being a Christian meant putting Christian imagery on his arch. The documentary's claim that this is "compelling evidence" that he just pretended to be a Christian to win over Christian soldiers is far too strong.
Christianity at that time was not necessarily what we assume it should have been. I don't see any reason to doubt that, at around the time of the Milvian Bridge, Constantine - a highly superstitious person - became convinced that the Christian God was providing him with supernatural help. And it would have been perfectly natural for him, as a devotee of Apollo, to start thinking of the Christian God in terms of his pre-existing devotion to Apollo. He might well have worshipped both of them equally for a time, seeing the Christian God as an addition to Apollo rather than a replacement, although his emphasis on monotheism in his
Oration to the Saints would suggest that he wouldn't have kept that up for long. But still, of course Constantine used imagery from the cult of Apollo and presented himself decked out in that imagery. That is what Roman emperors did, and it's how he had always thought of God. The documentary assumes that Apollo imagery = paganism and Jesus imagery = Christianity and that you can identify the religion purely on the basis of the imagery, but it's just not that simple.
(Apart from anything else, the city of Rome was the heartland of devotion to the old gods, and remained so well beyond Constantine's reign. A canny emperor, no matter how great his devotion to Jesus, might have chosen to avoid using any Christian imagery, and to emphasise the traditional imagery, on an arch he built in the centre of that city.)
The documentary gets it wrong about Mithraism, asserting that the cult existed before Jesus (it didn't), that it was popular among the Roman elite (it wasn't), and that Mithras was supposed to have died and risen from the dead (he wasn't). Perhaps more importantly, the evidence it gives that Constantine took elements of Mithraism to change Christianity is weak. It mentions common features such as the belief in saving blood or the similarity of the rituals. But these similarities obviously preceded Constantine, so they have nothing to do with him. And they could equally well be explained by Mithraism taking ideas from Christianity rather than vice versa, or by both of them taking them from the common religious currency of the time. It also mentions the common claim that Mithras' birthday was 25 December, but this isn't true: that was the feast of Sol Invictus, not Mithras. Both are gods associated with the sun but they're distinct cults. If Christianity took the date of 25 December from paganism it didn't need to do so via Mithraism.
The bit about the hats of the magi is quite fun, but again goes well beyond the evidence. As the documentary correctly says, those hats were the standard way of depicting someone from Persia. So Mithras was typically represented as wearing one. It doesn't follow that the magi of the Gospels were Mithraists or considered to be Mithraists, either in that Gospel or in art based on it - only that they were regarded as Persian - as Matthew's Gospel states. Saying that the hats make them Mithraists is a bit like saying that anyone who wears black is pretending to be Johnny Cash.
The only evidence that the documentary gives for Constantine's interest in Mithraism is the Persian-hatted figures on his arch. The notion that he had a deliberate plan to introduce Mithraist ideas into Christianity is pure speculation. The documentary talks about the supposed similarities between Christianity and Mithraism and then just invents the idea that Constantine had anything to do with it, and pretends that it's presented evidence for this. But it hasn't.
The documentary also gets some other things wrong. It states that Constantine named his new capital after himself, but this isn't correct - he named it "New Rome", but it became
colloquially known as "Constantinople". More importantly, it claims that Constantine put a piece of the True Cross inside the statue of himself as Apollo, but that is just a legend; the "True Cross" is first attested to in the 340s, after Constantine's death, and only in Jerusalem. The idea that a bit of the True Cross was incorporated into the statue is first reported by Socrates in the fifth century, i.e. over a century later, and is obviously a legend. But this documentary asserts it as if it's established fact and evidence that Constantine was trying to combine the cults of Apollo and Jesus in his own person.
I think though that the real weak point of the documentary is what it goes on to claim: that having created this cult of himself, merging those of Apollo, Mithras, and Jesus (which, even if there's not any real evidence for it, is at least intrinsically plausible), Constantine then somehow transformed Christianity itself in the light of this cult. This is intrinsically very implausible. How could Constantine have done this? The evidence that the documentary presents is in the artistic depiction of Jesus as a Roman emperor, but it's not helped by the fact that the image is discusses is from the sixth century, i.e. two hundred years after Constantine. The documentary gives no evidence at all that Constantine either tried to manipulate the image of Jesus or succeeded in doing so (it just makes vague guesses about the significance of halos). After all, it's worth noting that before Constantine, images of Jesus never showed him being crucified. It's only after Constantine - quite a long time after - that such images started to appear - first in the fifth century, and only with any frequency in the seventh. So the documentary's claim that Constantine changed the image of Jesus from that of a crucified victim of the Roman army into its triumphant leader is wrong - rather, both images date from long after Constantine's time, and there's no evidence that Constantine had anything to do with them.
And art is all very well, but the documentary discusses no texts at all other than Eusebius' hagiographies of Constantine (not even Constantine's own writings about religion). If Constantine had really transformed Christianity, you'd expect to see evidence of this in the subsequent writings of theologians and in how they portray Jesus. But you don't. You certainly see a lot of discussion about Jesus - this was the time of the Arian controversy - but where's the introduction of imagery and language from Apollo and Mithras that you'd expect to see if this documentary were correct?
Yes, but I don't see how a moral disposition, which is something mundane and arbitrary, could supersede perfect rationality. Maybe I'm just biased towards the Maimonidean idea of a God without positive attributes, but it seems intuitively sound to me.
We weren't talking about "rationality", though. We were talking about
omniscience, and that's not the same thing. Omniscience is just about knowledge; rationality is about planning. A being could be perfectly omniscient but not very rational. If you're attributing to God perfect rationality then you're already smuggling in the notion that he does only what is right, because that is part of practical reason.
I don't know why you say that moral dispositions are "mundane and arbitrary". Surely the whole point of the belief that God is perfectly moral is that they are not mundane and arbitrary, but that morality is important and objective.