APA Newsletters

Spring 2001
Volume 00, Number 2

Newsletter on Teaching in Philosophy

Articles

Previous Article | Index | Next Article

A Post-Critical Approach To Conceiving and Teaching Introduction to Philosophy1

by Dale Cannon
Western Oregon University

The typical way undergraduate students are introduced to philosophy-especially in regard to epistemology but even more so in regard to doing philosophy (including writing critical papers, critically discussing philosophical theories in class, and critically reading philosophy)-involves entering an apprenticeship in critical reflection as that has been embodied in modern philosophy, with nuances of variation depending on the university setting, the instructor, and the graduate school that has shaped the instructor's sensibility as a philosopher. While disciplines other than philosophy often pride themselves in teaching their students to think critically, more often than not it is the discipline of philosophy that is held to be the paradigm for critical reflection both for students and for instructors in post-secondary education-at least among philosophy teachers and students. My interest lies in bringing to the surface and calling attention to certain problematic aspects of how the paradigm that is usually inculcated functions-often at a largely tacit, rarely fully acknowledged level-and setting forth a modified, alternative paradigm. The post-critical paradigm I propose is based on a recognition of certain general conditions that make possible effective philosophical inquiry and in the absence of which inquiry is disabled-most importantly, a basic methodological faith in philosophical inquiry.

A typical introduction to philosophy course focuses on issues in epistemology and metaphysics, whether approached topically or historically, and often has a major component devoted to the study of Descartes' Meditations-one of the first primary texts that philosophy students have opportunity to chew over at length. It is highly unlikely that any student nowadays comes away from studying Descartes believing in Descartes' conclusions or the soundness of his major arguments. Nevertheless, more than likely the resulting paradigm the student appropriates of what it is ideally to reflect and inquire critically is that embodied in Descartes' own intellectual project: to build one's understanding of things solely upon candidates for belief that can withstand one's utmost efforts to doubt them. This, I think, is so even when Descartes is not the main focus of the course. In other words, Descartes' implicit motto-"Doubt, unless or until one has sufficient reason to believe" (i.e., withhold assent, hold yourself in reserve, until given good reason to the contrary)-becomes the tacitly operative, paradigm principle of critical reflection and inquiry for most students of philosophy and the paradigm of critical reflection and inquiry not just for the study of philosophy but for any subject area. (Note the irony here: for doubt to serve as a paradigm of inquiry, a student will first have to place her trust, her methodological faith, in it as a guide for her own inquiry.)

The typical introductory course in philosophy serves to re-establish, or to be a major factor in re-establishing, for each new generation of college and university students this modern paradigm of critical thought. This account of the current dominance of the culture of methodological doubt in introductory courses in philosophy and elsewhere may seem to some readers to be overstated. I readily acknowledge that there is to be found in recent philosophy philosophical alternatives to the Cartesian project of doubting all things and there exist no doubt some actual introductory courses which are exceptions to my generalization. I would be more than happy to learn of them. The account I give has taken shape from the peculiar path of thought and experience that has brought me to where I now stand. If others have come to a conclusion similar to mine about how students should be introduced to philosophy via some other route, I have no quarrel with them and welcome their efforts.

Consider for a moment what the cited Cartesian motto means and implies. It articulates a method, not a set of conclusions-and more so an attitude than an actual method. It is not skepticism, though in principle it might lead someone to skepticism. In practice, it proves much easier and more comfortable to implement it with respect to beliefs coming from without or to beliefs not yet firmly held rather than to beliefs already firmly held, though certainly Descartes meant to include the latter. In any case, by itself the motto accredits an attitude of doubt as such, not doubt because there is some particular good reason to doubt, some serious counter-evidence, or some independent acquaintance with the matter to which the belief refers. It doesn't invite the proponent of the belief to give you independent grounds for seeing its truth, possibly helping you to see these matters in a new and different light that you are not currently in a position to perceive. Rather, the motto advocates an attitude of critical suspicion toward each and every candidate for belief so that each candidate for belief must prove itself worthy of your belief before you give it credence. In practice, this tends to amount to the following: candidates for belief must be proven worthy of belief on the ground whereon you now stand, in the frame of reference you currently occupy, with the perspective you currently hold-while the limitations and prejudices of these standpoints themselves are rarely considered. The doubt is primarily directed outward, toward pretensions external to yourself. It does not particularly welcome the exploration (and possible coming together with your own) of other perspectives and frames of reference, especially not previously unexplored ones. It does not reach out to explore new territory but takes for granted your current understanding.

In the process of introductory philosophical apprenticeship the motto-"Doubt unless or until one has sufficient reason to believe"-is on rare occasions, but hardly ever, paired methodologically with its inverse: "Believe unless or until one has sufficient reason to doubt" (i.e., venture to explore possibilities, invest yourself in new perspectives, until given good reason to the contrary). For the most part the doubt motto is introduced as the method of critical thinking for the student to begin to practice pretty much on its own-implying that one needs no good reason to doubt, no sufficient reason to doubt, only good reasons to believe. Of course, there is a general, non-specific reason for the admonition to doubt: to avoid being taken in by an unworthy candidate for belief, to avoid being wrong, and to avoid being deceived and manipulated. Above all, in modern thought it has meant to avoid being self-deceived due to contributions (colorings, distortions, additions of so-called secondary qualities) liable to issue from one's own subjectivity that make the candidate for belief seem more credible than it actually is. As William James put it in his classic essay, "The Will to Believe," the reason behind the admonition to doubt is to avoid error-a worthy goal to be sure. But the objective of avoiding error, James commonsensically pointed out, by itself will not suffice to bring you to any truth that you haven't yet attained. By itself, doubt never ventures to seek out things not yet known or not yet understood in anticipation of some likely discovery. James points out that the admonition to avoid error needs to be conjoined with the admonition to seek truth, to venture beyond the security of present certainties in the confidence that things now uncertain but vaguely intimated will later become known through inquiry. James advocates the practical necessity in given circumstances (circumstances that James calls genuine options), where evidence on the surface doesn't resolve what should be believed, of what Michael Polanyi calls acritical, methodological belief or faith. Both principles-"avoid error" and "seek the truth"-need to operate in tandem, in an ongoing dialectical relationship, never one wholly without the other. One without the other is insufficient and liable to result either in overbelief (credulity) or in underbelief (skepticism), both of which disable serious intellectual inquiry. The modern paradigm of critical thinking has privileged underbelief-in opposition to an alleged precritical paradigm of overbelief. A post-critical paradigm stresses the indispensable role of methodological belief, alongside appropriate, reasoned doubt, to maintain balance and move inquiry forward.2

To understand how methodological belief and methodological doubt can move forward together and not conflict in the process of authentic inquiry, it is important to realize that the focus of each is not upon the identical same thing. Nor is the focus of the one one's own claims and the focus of the other the claims of others, although it is tempting to conclude that. By methodological belief I do not mean only, or simply, tentative assent to propositions. In genuine inquiry what one can state of one's current belief concerning what it is one is inquiring into is the best hunch one has about it-even if only the vague hunch that an answer is likely to be found by following up this possibility rather than that-realizing that what one can articulate of it is highly subject to modification as the inquiry proceeds. Note how both belief and doubt are intertwined here. In this respect, the belief is a reaching out toward what is not yet fully known that is only partly or tentatively expressed in what one can currently articulate about it. The methodological belief is primarily the outgoing, venturesome investment of oneself in following up the hunch and finding out whether and to what extent it is true. Toward the currently articulated, explicit form of that belief, there is some doubt, perhaps even considerable doubt. And there is doubt as well toward the competing claims of others, even those of one's companions in inquiry-though there could nevertheless be present considerable confidence (i.e., methodological belief) in their reaching out toward what is being jointly inquired into. Effective inquiry thus requires both methodological belief and methodological doubt.

Unfortunately, James' argument and the essay from which it is taken, though occasionally presented in introductory philosophy anthologies, has for the most part gone unappreciated and unappropriated at the level of philosophical pedagogy (what students are led to implement in their philosophical practice) and has generally been relegated to a topic in philosophy of religion. The argument is rarely considered worthy of consideration in basic epistemology. Even less taken into account in this respect are the ideas and arguments of Michael Polanyi, who has given us one of the most thoroughgoing critiques of the culture of doubt. Taking this critique seriously, I find that I cannot in good conscience go on introducing students to philosophy as usual. The puzzle is how best to introduce students to philosophy in a post-critical way-though not simply or even primarily to "post-critical philosophy" as a body of philosophical content (that students might meet with in an upper division course, when the critical paradigm of intellectual inquiry for them will have already been well set). The comments which follow represent my current thinking about this topic and my experiences in attempting to implement a post-critical approach to teaching introduction to philosophy.

What does my own attempt at such an introductory course look like? On the surface not a whole lot different from the usual. I have my students read from one or another anthology, including selections from Plato and Descartes, among others, sometimes accompanied by a secondary overview of philosophy. I have them write essays responding to assigned questions (recently I have experimented, with considerable success, with dialectically produced, team written essays); and I conduct classes in informal lecture and discussion style, broken up with small group discussions. The difference lies more in how these materials, ideas, and arguments are handled, what questions are posed, what alternative possibilities are considered, and how students are invited to relate themselves in a fiduciary way (i.e., a believing and not just skeptical way) to the things being explored.

Typically, I start off by introducing my students to two extended metaphors, both powerful and mutually reinforcing: (1) that "map is not territory" and (2) that the chief philosophical task in any philosophically problematic situation is "to find a way out of the cave." Though these metaphors are introduced early on, they are used and repeatedly explored throughout the course.

Straightaway on the first day of the course, I pose for my students the thesis that the heart of philosophy as inquiry involves a recognition that, whatever you may happen to be dealing with or thinking about, the mental map, the set of articulate beliefs, that you have of the subject matter in question-regardless of what map it happens to be and regardless of how good a map it happens to be-is not the same as the territory it presumes to represent. The map is a representation. If it is a good representation, it represents well and reliably (for certain limited purposes) the territory in question. But, considered in the context of philosophical inquiry, it may not be a good mental representation, or good in all respects, and it may be unreliable for certain purposes. One needs to find out, to be in process of finding out. Here, considered in the context of inquiry, the map as representation is not the territory and that needs to be kept clear. Thus the map is subject to doubt. In viewing it as an statement of one's best present hunch on the path of inquiry, however, belief in the map is not left behind. Philosophical inquiry is the effort to determine-a matter of methodologically believing in the possibility of determining, and venturing oneself in the effort to determine-how good our mental map is in relation to the territory it presumes to represent. The opposite of philosophical thinking, in this respect, is philodoxy (a term introduced to me by the writings of Eric Voegelin3, alleged by him to be coined by Plato): the love of opinion, or more strictly, the attitude which is content with equating truth (the territory) with a given representation of it (a given map), and equates loyalty to the truth with loyalty to the map. In this respect, philodoxical thinking is thinking which simply believes in a map; it uncritically invests itself in defense of a map (the map it currently has) and refuses to consider (i.e., refuses methodologically to explore) the possibility that the territory it is supposed to represent could be, in one respect or another, other than the map. In effect, a philodoxical thinker can become very good and highly skilled at doubting and critiquing maps other than her own. But she may never thereby develop and come to trust in her own capacity for exploring disparities between her own map and the territory she supposes it truthfully to represent and for creatively amending and/or redrawing her map to represent the territory more faithfully. The development of that power in students and helping them come to believe in it is what a post-critical introduction to philosophy is chiefly about. To paraphrase Wittgenstein, philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence-a bewitchment of our capacity to reach out to what we do not yet fully understand or know-by means of plausible mental maps.

Though the distinction between map and territory here proposed brings into play both methodological belief and methodological doubt, it gives priority to methodological belief. Doubt of the map is present, as is evident in our recognition of the map's partiality and fallibility, though we continue to believe in it as our best present hunch until we find something better to replace it. So doubting is subordinate to our interest in gaining access to the territory allegedly represented by the map, on the basis of which the map itself can begin to be appropriately assessed. The gaining of access to the territory-the pursuit of truth-is the chief object of methodological believing of the sort I am speaking.

What do I mean by a student's access to territory beyond current maps? I mean a direct, first-person examination, of whatever evidence and good reasons (including direct observation) may relevantly bear on the truth of a given representation or map. What is called for is an acritical confidence-neither critical nor uncritical, but a fallible confidence-in the student's own growing acquaintance with the territory through independent evidence (often incorporating not only her own observation and reflection but also the exploration of perspectives other than her own present perspective). It is crucial, here, to recognize that it is impossible to critically call into question-access by acquaintance with the territory while simultaneously relying upon that access to critically examine a map of the territory. Calling the former into question directly disables the later.

There is a way in which the metaphor "map is not territory" can be misunderstood. I am not saying that we see or experience things by means of mental maps-though I am more than ready to concede that maps, mental and literal, may direct us to notice things we might not otherwise notice. Nor am I saying that we know things (exclusively) by means of mental maps -- though in important respects we do indeed know things by mental maps, for all representational knowledge is encompassed by what I mean here by map. (But of course, not all knowledge is representational knowledge). A person with a philodoxical mind-set acts as if she sees or experiences things by way of a mental map that she takes to be identical to the territory it represents, and for this reason, is oblivious to what is not represented on map. Such a person believes that she knows the territory in question simply in virtue of possessing that map. For her, there is no point to inquiry. In contrast, a person with a philosophical frame of mind (in the sense here being expounded) strives to see and experience whatever there is of things that may lie beyond, or may not be adequately represented by, the map. Hence she is ready to refine, or extend, or reconstruct the map on the basis of what she thus comes to know by acquaintance. Such a person believes in her map as her best current hunch about the territory she is committed to coming to know better.

The second metaphor is more complex and, if not properly qualified, more problematic. I introduce my students very early to the Allegory of the Cave in Plato's Republic. But I immediately modify it to detach it from Plato's use of it to motivate his metaphysical distinction between the realm of sense perception and the realm of the Forms. Recall that the prisoners in the cave of Plato's allegory take the shadows upon the wall (projected by images carried by other persons in front of a fire) to be reality. They don't realize that the shadows are representations of images, which images are themselves putative representations of reality. Quite apart from Plato's rather contrived analogy of the situation of the prisoners with sense perception, the real genius of the story of the cave, as I see it, lies in its illumination of the predicament of persons who simply take mental representations (especially those pertaining to basic ideas and assumptions) that they receive from peers, experts, or other persons in authority to be reality. Philosophical liberation and enlightenment comes in breaking free of that predicament, examining critically the representations whose projected shadows one has heretofore taken to be reality and, crucially, finding one's way out of the cave. In this way, one's critical examination draws upon a deepening acquaintance for oneself with the realities purportedly represented by these images-though mediated, to be sure, by observation, evidence, good reasons, and progressively refined intuition. This interpretation of philosophical liberation works for objects we perceive with our senses no less than for normative principles like justice-an important point that Plato appears to miss. I urge my students to consider philosophical thinking on their part to be the effort to escape the predicament of the prisoners in the cave. This will involve examining critically the various mental maps of reality competing for their credence, but not apart from the struggle to exercise and draw upon their own means of acquaintance with the realities in question. I also call attention to the fact that the extended metaphor of escape from the cave (and further elaboration of it to be explained shortly) is itself an image projected on the wall of the cave to be critically examined along with the others in light of students'own growing acquaintance with the matters it represents.

To attempt to do philosophy utilizing the strategy of avoiding error (methodological doubt) without also seeking truth (methodological belief) is to escape the predicament of the prisoners in the cave but to fail to get beyond critically examining the images being paraded before the fire. It is to be stuck in the cave (and, typically for undergraduates, leaving them with the skeptical suspicion that there is no escape from the cave at all, no genuine knowledge and experience of reality to be had). The skeptical suspicion that there is no external world, that it may be radically other than we can possibly know with our own powers of cognition, or that it cannot be known at all, derives from this predicament. Such a suspicion is not merely theoretical in its implications; if taken seriously and not satisfactorily answered it has the practical consequence of disabling our power of methodological belief, and so our power to engage in effective philosophical inquiry-indeed, before such inquiry has begun.

Pursuing this line of thinking, I introduce my students to the idea of pitfalls on the way out of the cave-pitfalls of overbelief and of underbelief that may appear at first to promise a way out of the cave and an escape from the labor of philosophical inquiry, only to turn out to be mental traps from which it is very difficult, especially for students on an introductory level, to extricate themselves. They are deemed pitfalls or mental traps only and precisely because they are disablements to serious philosophical inquiry; they undercut the capacity and confidence, about which I have been speaking above, of students getting anywhere and making any progress by means of their own powers of reasoning, I introduce five specific pitfalls as we proceed through the course-ideological thinking, relativism, skepticism, nihilism, and scientism (actually, specific versions of each that regularly attract my first and second year college students). We discuss what each of these is, what makes each seem plausible, and some clues to a reasoned way out of each of them, i.e., a reasoned way of extricating oneself from them. I challenge my students to develop reasoned ways out of them for themselves-building confidence in themselves that they too can make significant intellectual discovery and progress through philosophical inquiry.

The pitfall of ideological thinking is the view that takes philosophical questions to have preset answers ascertained on the word of some identifiable authority-religious, political, economic, or what have you. Given possession of the answers this view sets forward, there is no point to inquiring further. The pitfall of skepticism is the view that tempts introductory students, when initially faced with the problem of evaluating competing philosophical answers to some philosophical question, to ask rhetorically "Who's to say?"-meaning by it that "No one is," especially in the absence of some external authority to tell us which answer is the correct one. This pitfall (as articulated here) is not a sophisticated philosophical version of skepticism, but rather simply the resort of the freshman or sophomore who sees no point of engaging in philosophical inquiry from lack of confidence in its promise to lead to anything worthwhile. The pitfall of relativism is the view that the only answers to be had of philosophical questions are the answers each person happens to arrive at for herself, regardless of how she may happen to have arrived at them. Accordingly, each person's answer is true-for that person; believing makes it so. There being no possible way to be wrong on this view, there is no ground or justification for presuming to criticize the answers suggested by anyone else, including those of serious philosophers. The pitfall of nihilism is a view that goes beyond skepticism and relativism here characterized and leaps to the conclusion that there really is no philosophical truth at all, so it is pointless to search, pointless to inquire, pointless to take philosophy seriously. There are only the fictions imposed by this or that person who is skillful and daring enough to manipulate and dominate the minds of others, "knowing" that there can be no reckoning, no possibility of ever coming to face the truth. Last, the pitfall of scientism is the view that the only answers to be had of any genuinely cognitive questions are to be had through modern scientific inquiry-in marked contrast with what are taken to be the groundless and unfalsifiable speculations of philosophy. On this view it is pointless to pursue philosophy, except perhaps as extending the cognitive hegemony of the authority of modern science-leaving the student, if she desires to pursue truth (i.e., an improved map), the sole alternatives of becoming a scientist herself or simply being a consumer of scientific expertise and authority. Note that these five pitfalls are not to be identified with sophisticated philosophical theories going under the same names that are supported by serious philosophical argument. The pitfalls here characterized each represent different temptations faced by the introductory student to derail developing competence in the pursuit of philosophical inquiry before it has hardly begun.

I fully acknowledge that my characterization of ideological thinking, relativism, skepticism, nihilism, and scientism as "pitfalls" or "mental traps" prejudges them for my students in a negative light. I do so soley in the respect that they constitute methodological disablements of serious philosophical inquiry-precisely at a point in students' philosophical development when their interest and tentative efforts at philosophical inquiry are favorably disposed to growth but vulnerable to being disabled through frustration, fear, intimidation, social pressure, and superficially attractive escapes from the labor of philosophical thinking. I do not ask my students to adopt at second hand my negative representation of the pitfalls. Rather, I challenge them to find out and articulate for themselves in what ways the pitfalls have this disabling result. Then, later on, when they encounter philosophically sophisticated versions of skepticism, relativism, and the like, they will be in a position to appreciate them for what they are and critically examine them with a degree of developed philosophical competence rather than taking them to be excuses for aborting the endeavor to pursue philosophical inquiry with any seriousness. The point, again, is pedagogical: to have my students become alert to what undermines or derails the development of competence and confidence in pursuing philosophical inquiry.

Implied in the foregoing, of course, is an assumption that each student has an inherent capacity to come to know the world for herself, via personal acquaintance through philosophical inquiry. The exercise of this capacity involves, as I have sought to explain, a methodological faith-indeed, a gradually maturing methodological faith-that one acquires by apprenticeship to the instructor, to more advanced students, and, by no means least, to the philosophers to whose thinking they are being introduced in the course. It is essential, of course, that this development of student's methodological faith in philosophical inquiry be coupled with a simultaneous development in consciousness of their own fallibility and ignorance-specifically, a development in their intellectual conscience for not claiming more for their conclusions than those conclusions actually warrant.

In any case, as I have already indicated, in the course we go on to explore a variety of issues and arguments in Western philosophy, including a close reading of Descartes' Meditations, among other classic texts. But now we are in a position to read these texts and the Meditations with some independent sense of the territory they seek to map. Moreover, we explore philosophical views not as historically displacing each other in a one-directional, progressive succession, but as explorations of much of the same territory but from different angles, with different concerns and agendas. This involves suspending one's disbelief (another form of methodological believing) in order to explore a subject by means of assumptions different from one's own. In the class we juxtapose one philosophical view and associated arguments alongside others and see how they respond to each other. Thus Aristotle is not seen as displacing Plato, and Plato is given, in our imagination at least, an opportunity to respond critically to Aristotle's critique. I encourage my students to place the great philosophers in dialogue with each other so no significant voice gets lost just because it is earlier than another. So also with the conflict between Rationalism and Empiricism, where Rationalism is so often given short shrift, especially in relation to the development of modern science. In Twentieth Century Philosophy we consider both Analytic approaches as well as Phenomenological approaches. Overall, we are primarily interested in becoming acquainted with those aspects of the territory these philosophers are seeking to bring to light (certain crucial aspects of the human condition) above and beyond the "territory" consisting of their maps.

All of this would amount to historicism, another form of relativism, without the active participation of my students in sorting the issues out for themselves, the confidence that in so doing they were deepening their acquaintance and familiarity with the realities in question.

At the climax of the chapter entitled "The Logic of Affirmation" in Michael Polanyi's Personal Knowledge, Polanyi explains Augustine's maxim, nisi credideritis non intelligitis:

It says, as I [Polanyi] understand it, that the process of examining any topic is both an exploration of the topic, and an exegesis of our fundamental beliefs in the light of which we approach it; a dialectical combination of exploration and exegesis. Our fundamental beliefs are continuously reconsidered in the course of such a process, but only within the scope of their own basic premises. (PK 267)

This is the task to which I summon my students: critical exploration of certain intellectual maps in dialectical relation with an exegesis of their own developing methodological faith-convictions which constitute their own present access to reality, their means of acquaintance with it. Primary fidelity, of course, is owed to the reality to which these faith-convictions give access, not to those convictions themselves.

Footnotes

1. The post-critical orientation taken in this essay is derives from a conviction that the diagnosis and critique by Michael Polanyi, in his major work Personal Knowledge: Toward a Post-Critical Philosophy, of the methodology of doubt that has characterized modern intellectual culture (and post-modern culture, for the most part) is substantially sound and that his case for the fiduciary grounding of, and personal participation in shaping, all rational judgment is cogent. While Polanyi's thought influences my thinking in several respects, it contributes little of a specific explicit nature to the introductory course here outlined. Only rarely do I actually assign readings from Polanyi in my introductory course, and sometimes not at all. For those who wish to learn more about the post-critical orientation assumed by the essay, there is no good alternative to tackling Michael Polanyi's Personal Knowledge: Toward a Post-Critical Philosophy (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1958). Only there can one gain a full grasp of his critique of the methodology of doubt and his proposal of a post-critical perspective. Polanyi's later, shorter works are good introductions to various aspects of his philosophical views, but none substitutes for this work on this theme.

2. Aside from Polanyi's case for the fiduciary coefficient of our judgment and the role of acritical belief in all of our knowing, very useful discussions of methodological belief may be found in Peter Elbow, Embracing Contraries: Explorations in Teaching and Learning (New York and Oxford: Oxford U. Press, 1986), esp. "Methodological Doubting and Believing: Contraries in Inquiry," pp. 254-300; Wayne Booth, Modern Dogma and the Rhetoric of Assent (Chicago: U. of Chicago Press, 1974); and James E. Loder, The Transforming Moment (Colorado Springs, CO: Helmers and Howard, 1992).

3. The concept of philodoxy in relation to philosophy is discussed in various places within Eric Voegelin's work. See his Amnesis, trans. and ed. by Gerhart Niemeyer (Notre Dame and London: U. of Notre Dame Press, 1978); Eugene Webb, Erich Voegelin: Philosopher of History (Seattle and London: U. of Washington Pres, 1981); and Eugene Webb, "Faith, Truth, and Persuasion in the Thought of Erich Voegelin," in Voegelin and the Theologian, ed. by John Kirby and William M. Thompson (Toronto Studies in Theology, vol. 10; New York: The Edwin Mellen Press, 1983), pp. 356-369.

Previous Article | Index | Next Article

APA Newsletters

Spring 2001 Volume 00, Number 2

Spring 2001
Volume 00, Number 2