Does the Bible Answer Philosophy’s Hardest Question: You?

What are you?

Let's first talk about what you're not.

You are not a "soul stuck in a body", that is an idea with roots in certain streams of Greek philosophy, most notably Platonism. Plato, and philosophers influenced by him, often posited a dualistic view of human existence: a mortal, corruptible body and an immortal, pre-existent, and ultimately superior soul. The body was often seen as a temporary vessel, even a prison, for the soul, and true liberation or fulfillment was thought to occur when the soul was freed from bodily constraints, often through death, to return to a purer, spiritual realm. This philosophy emphasized the intellect and the soul as the true essence of a person, with the physical body being secondary or even a hindrance to spiritual or intellectual pursuits.

This contrasts quite sharply with the predominant Hebraic thought found in the Old Testament. In Hebraic understanding, a human being is typically viewed as a holistic entity, a nephesh chayyah, a "living soul" or "living being" (Genesis 2:7). This wasn't about a soul in a body, but rather the body, animated by the ruach (spirit/breath of life from God), became a living soul, a complete person. There wasn't the same sharp dichotomy between soul and body as separate, and often conflicting, entities. The body wasn't generally seen as a prison, but as an integral part of God's creation, formed from the dust of the earth and animated by God's spirit. Death, in Hebraic thought, was typically seen as a cessation of this integrated life, a return of the body to dust and the spirit/breath to God who gave it (Ecclesiastes 12:7), with the "soul" (in the sense of conscious personality) ceasing to exist in an active, disembodied state. Hope was generally placed in a future resurrection of the whole person, body and all, not just the liberation of an ethereal soul.

So, when we bring this to a biblical understanding of "consciousness," we find that it's intricately linked to this holistic view of personhood. Consciousness, as we experience it, appears to be an emergent property of a living, functioning human being, a body animated by spirit. Scripture doesn't really delve into a philosophical definition of consciousness in the way modern neuroscience or philosophy might, but it consistently portrays awareness, thought, emotion, and selfhood as functions of a living person. When a person dies, the Bible describes them as "knowing nothing" (Ecclesiastes 9:5), their thoughts perish (Psalm 146:4), and they are "asleep" (1 Thessalonians 4:13; John 11:11-14), awaiting resurrection. This suggests that consciousness, as we understand it, is not maintained in a disembodied state after death, but is restored at the resurrection when the whole person is made alive again.

I want to mention some other passages that often come up when discussing what happens after death, because they do seem, at first glance, to suggest an immediate conscious existence.

Take, for instance, Jesus' words to the thief on the cross in Luke 23:43: "Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise." This is frequently understood to mean that the thief would be consciously in paradise with Jesus on that very day, immediately after their deaths. However, we need to consider a few things here. Firstly, Jesus Himself, after His resurrection three days later, told Mary Magdalene, "Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father" (John 20:17). If Jesus hadn't ascended to the Father (where Paradise, in the heavenly sense, would be located) even three days after His death, then He couldn't have been with the thief in Paradise on the day of their death.

Remember, Ancient Greek texts often lacked punctuation like commas so this verse could just as easily be interpreted as "Verily I say unto thee to day, Thou shalt be with me in paradise." In this reading, "to day" refers to when Jesus is making the promise, not when the promise will be fulfilled. He is assuring the thief on that day of a future reality: that he will be with Him in Paradise. This aligns with the thief's own request: "Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom" (Luke 23:42), a future event. Paradise, in this context, would refer to the restored Edenic state on earth, part of the Messianic kingdom, which the thief would enter upon his resurrection. From the thief's perspective, having died and being unconscious, the next moment of awareness would be his awakening in Paradise with Christ, making it feel like "today," even if ages had passed from an objective timeline.

Then there's Paul's statement in 2 Corinthians 5:8: "We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord." This is often taken to mean that immediately upon death (being absent from the body), one is consciously present with the Lord. However, if we look at the surrounding context of 2 Corinthians 5, Paul is contrasting our present mortal, earthly "tabernacle" (body) with our future, resurrected, heavenly "house not made with hands" (2 Corinthians 5:1-4). His desire is not simply to be a disembodied spirit, but to be "clothed upon with our house which is from heaven," so that "mortality might be swallowed up of life" (2 Corinthians 5:2, 4). The being "present with the Lord" he longs for is in that resurrected, glorified state, which occurs not at death, but at the Lord's return when we are "caught up...to meet the Lord in the air" and "so shall we ever be with the Lord" (1 Thessalonians 4:17). Again, from the perspective of the one who dies, the next conscious moment after death is being with the Lord at the resurrection. Paul isn't detailing the intermediate state, but expressing his ultimate hope and preference for the glorified state with Christ over the current groaning in a mortal body.

And I also want to mention the souls under the altar in Revelation 6:9-11, who are depicted crying out, "How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?" This vision seems to show conscious souls in heaven before the final judgment. However, the book of Revelation is highly symbolic. These "souls" could be a personification, a symbolic representation of the martyrs whose shed blood cries out for justice, much like Abel's blood cried out from the ground (Genesis 4:10). It's a powerful image conveying that God has not forgotten His martyred saints and that justice will be done. To take this vision as a literal, phenomenological description of the state of all disembodied souls risks misinterpreting the apocalyptic genre of Revelation, which uses vivid imagery to convey spiritual truths rather than to give detailed accounts of the afterlife. They are told to "rest yet for a little season," which itself implies a state of waiting, not necessarily full, active consciousness as we experience it.

These passages, when interpreted in isolation, can indeed appear to support an immediate, conscious existence after death. However, when placed within the broader scriptural context of death as sleep, the hope of a bodily resurrection as the point of being reunited with the Lord, and the figurative nature of some biblical language (especially in apocalyptic texts or when Jesus is using parables or metaphors), a more consistent picture emerges. The primary hope presented in scripture is not an immediate flight of the soul to heaven at death, but the resurrection of the whole person at Christ's coming to inherit age-during life and, for the Body of Christ, to be with the Lord in our glorified, heavenly bodies.

Now, I want to mention something I saw in a video that raises an interesting, if somewhat unsettling, thought experiment related to this. The idea was presented that every time you go to sleep and become unconscious, for all you know, you could have effectively "died," and the person who wakes up with your memories is essentially a new creature, a perfect copy. This leads to the question: if "you" ceased to exist during that unconscious state, what is the continuity of self? The video then likened Star Trek transporters to "suicide boxes", where the original person is dematerialized (dies) and a perfect copy is reassembled elsewhere.

From a biblical perspective, the Star Trek transporter analogy, while thought-provoking, doesn't quite capture the essence of what it means to be "you."

If we understand "you" not as an independent, immortal soul-substance that merely inhabits a body, but as the integrated whole of your being, body, spirit (as the life-force from God), and the resulting soul (conscious personality), then the continuity of "you" is upheld by God Himself.

When you sleep, your consciousness may diminish or cease in the way you actively experience it while awake, but the potential for your specific consciousness, tied to your unique physical being and life-history (which God sustains), remains. God, who "giveth to all life, and breath, and all things" (Acts 17:25) and in whom "we live, and move, and have our being" (Acts 17:28), is the ultimate guarantor of your continuity. He doesn't need to create a "new creature" with your memories each morning; He sustains and restores the same creature. The "you" that wakes up is the "you" that went to sleep because God upholds your existence.

Similarly, in death and resurrection according to scripture, it's not about a copy. Paul describes the resurrection body as being sown a natural body and raised a spiritual body (1 Corinthians 15:44). There's a transformation, but it's a transformation of the same individual. God, who knows the number of hairs on your head (Matthew 10:30) and whose understanding is infinite (Psalm 147:5), is more than capable of resurrecting the identical you, not merely a facsimile. The "you" that is resurrected is the same "you" that died, now made alive and, for believers, glorified by God's power. The continuity of your identity is not dependent on an unbroken stream of consciousness (which sleep already interrupts) or an unchangeable physical form, but on God's sovereign power and His faithful remembrance and re-creation/restoration of you as an individual.

The fear behind the "suicide box" analogy arises from a perspective where identity is solely self-generated or dependent on purely material or conscious continuity. But from a biblical perspective, our identity is ultimately grounded in our Creator, who formed us, knows us, and has the power to restore us. "You" are the specific individual God created and sustains, the one whose life is recorded in His "book" (Psalm 139:16), and whose future resurrection and ultimate reconciliation (for all, in their order) is part of His unchanging plan. The Star Trek transporter might be a fun sci-fi concept, but it operates outside the biblical framework of God's direct, sustaining relationship with each unique individual He has made. "You" are more than just your current state of consciousness or your present collection of atoms; you are a being whose identity is secure in the hands of your Maker.

Criticism of Catholicism's "Sacred Tradition"

You know, I've been spending some time going through the Catechism of the Catholic Church lately, and it's definitely getting me thinking about some foundational stuff. One thing that really stands out, and honestly, gives me pause, is how it talks about "Sacred Tradition."

The Catechism, right from the get-go, in paragraphs like 59 through 61 and then again around 80 to 82, makes it pretty clear that it sees Sacred Tradition and Sacred Scripture as two streams flowing from the same divine wellspring, both equally to be "accepted and honoured with equal sentiments of devotion and reverence." They're presented as a "single sacred deposit of the Word of God."

Now, I get the historical argument. The apostles preached, they taught, and not everything they said or did was immediately written down in the books that became our New Testament. There was an oral phase, a living transmission of faith in the early communities. No one's really disputing that. But the leap from "apostles taught things" to "there's this ongoing, equally authoritative stream of divine revelation called Sacred Tradition that the Church (specifically the Magisterium) is the guardian and sole authentic interpreter of", that's a big leap, and one I find hard to square with what Scripture itself seems to indicate about its own sufficiency and finality.

My main hang-up is this: if we say that our certainty about "all revealed truths" doesn't come from the Holy Scriptures alone, as paragraph 61 explicitly states, where does that leave us? It seems to put the Church, or at least its teaching office, in a position of defining what constitutes this "Sacred Tradition" and then using that Tradition to interpret Scripture. It feels a bit like the Church is marking its own homework. If Tradition tells us how to read Scripture, and the Church tells us what Tradition is, then the Church's current understanding becomes the ultimate authority, practically speaking, even if it says it's the "servant" of the Word.

Paul told Timothy that "All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness: That the man of God may be perfect, throughly furnished unto all good works" (2 Timothy 3:16-17 KJV). That sounds pretty comprehensive. If Scripture itself is "God-breathed" and can thoroughly furnish us for all good works and make the man of God perfect (or complete), what essential divine truth is left outside of it that we need from an unwritten Tradition for our faith and practice?

And then there's the practical side. Scripture is a fixed text. We can study it, analyze its languages, its historical context. It's there for all to examine. "Sacred Tradition," on the other hand, especially when it's presented as an unwritten body of truths passed down, feels more fluid, more susceptible to human development and, dare I say, accretion (addition) over centuries. How do we objectively test a "Tradition" if its content and interpretation are ultimately defined by an institution in the present day? Things like the Marian dogmas (Immaculate Conception, Assumption) are often cited as examples of truths known through Tradition that aren't explicitly spelled out in Scripture. But that's the point, if they're not clearly in Scripture, on what basis are they considered divinely revealed and binding for all believers?

It seems to me that the New Testament itself points to the writings of the apostles as the enduring record of their authoritative teaching. Paul exhorted the Thessalonians to "hold the traditions which ye have been taught, whether by word, or our epistle" (2 Thessalonians 2:15 KJV). Yes, there was oral teaching initially, but the "faith which was once delivered unto the saints" (Jude 3 KJV) was, I believe, fully and finally captured in what became the inspired New Testament. That written Word is the "sacred deposit" we're called to guard and transmit.

So, as I'm reading through the Catechism, this heavy reliance on Sacred Tradition as an equal partner to Scripture, and the claim that the Magisterium alone can authentically interpret both, is a significant point of concern. It feels like it shifts the ultimate foundation of our faith from the clear, written Word of God, accessible to all believers through the illumination of the Holy Spirit, to the pronouncements of a specific ecclesiastical (church-related) institution. And historically, that just hasn't always proven to be a reliable safeguard for pure, apostolic truth, especially when those truths concern the unique message of grace for the Body of Christ, which often got obscured by later traditions. It's definitely something that makes you want to go back and cleave even more tightly to what the Scriptures actually say, and how they say it.