Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts

Monday, October 22, 2007

Catholics Against Torture

As Andrew says, we've heard plenty from the left about why torture is a bad idea, but very little from the right. This post from "Catholic and Enjoying It" is therefore a welcome change, and really made me think about the issue in a new way. Here's a brief excerpt:

What lies at the heart of all consequentialist appeals to do grave evil for the greater good is, ultimately, a refusal to trust that God knows what he is talking about. It is the conviction that the Christian revelation is not an insight into the heart of reality, but a sort of idealistic dream that is fun to contemplate in quiet moments and maybe even an "inspiration" in a vague way, but is nonetheless something that hard thinkers and tough-minded men must sweep away when crunch time comes in favor of "realistic" solutions that require us to frankly embrace sin and evil if we hope to live or remain free. In this analysis, the functional belief of the Machiavellian realist is "You shall embrace evil, and evil shall make you free and keep you safe."

The argument of the Christian revelation is that this is, not to put too fine a point on it, a lie from the pit of hell.


I remain confused as to why American Christianity and the Republican party have become synonymous on issues like torture, war, poverty, health care, and race relations. There is ample support for what Americans would consider liberal positions on these problems, and yet it is as if such a thing is unthinkable in the public discourse.

If I haven't made it clear on this blog before, I think torture is evil. I think it is wrong. I think it is useless, misguided, dangerous, and corrupting to the torturer. It is to be avoided at nearly all costs, and I am deeply appalled that our nation has joined the despicable ranks of those regimes that routinely employ it. I know there are those among the religious who feel the same way, and I am delighted that finally, at long last, their voices are getting heard.

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Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Jesus on the River (and I Don't Mean Chris Ferguson)

I may not be a Christian, but I just saw a stomach-turning spectacle of blasphemy and hypocrisy on ESPN's first night of coverage of the 2007 World Series of Poker that really offended me.

The hand featured seasoned professional Lee Watkinson's A-7 off-suit against poker neophyte and chipleader Jerry Yang's A-9 off-suit. Lee went all in and was called, putting his tournament (and a shot at more than eight million dollars) on the line.

Whereupon both parties proceeded to spit on the teachings of Jesus.

Watkinson, to his credit, handled it like a pro and was silent throughout the hand, but you can't say the same thing for his fiancée, Timmi deRosa, who jumped up and shouted "No weapon formed against him shall prosper!" If that sounds like a Bible verse, you're right -- it's Isaiah 54:17, which is all about God telling Israel how great they're going to have it from there on out. She then followed that up with "Come on, Father! In Jesus' name, No weapon formed against thee shall prosper!" With arms raised above her head, this woman was shouting for God, in Jesus' name, to let her husband win a gambling confrontation so he could bring home millions of dollars.

In Jesus' name. Yes, that Jesus, the one who said "If thou wilt be perfect, go sell what thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven." The one who said, "And it came to pass that the beggar died and was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom. And the rich man also died: and he was buried in Hell." Sounds like a guy anxious to get all his money in pre-flop with the best hand, right?

I thought that was fairly appalling, but then Jerry Yang got his turn. "Come on Lord," he said, "you know your purpose for me. Have a purpose for me."

Apparently God's purpose for Jerry was to have his opponent dominated with a better kicker for his ace. I didn't know the Almighty went in for bad all-in raises with a Ace-rags, but apparently He does.

Not to be outdone, the fiancée again cried out. "Make him a believer! Make Lee a believer, Father!" So apparently Lee's not "of the faith" and this woman thinks that giving him a cash reward will get him to become a Christian. Sort of like a "Bonus Miles" program, I suppose.

The irony of having the soul of a non-believer hanging in the balance over a poker game for eight million dollars was lost on all concerned. Apparently poverty is only for those loser Christians who actually, you know, bother reading what Jesus said. Why do I have the feeling this lady is a follower of one or another of the "Prosperity Gospel" cults?

Jerry got the last word, though. "Father, in the name of Jesus," he said quietly, voice almost vibrating with intensity, "LET ME WIN!"

I'm sure both Jerry and Ms. deRosa are wonderfully nice people. I'm sure they feel quite devoted to their faith, and do what they can to follow the teachings of Christ. But they're both exhibiting the most crass kind of hypocrisy and -- yes, I'll say it -- blasphemy I can imagine.

This was the perfect example of that uniquely American abomination that weds greedy materialism with the teachings of Christ. I've seldom seen a case where Las Vegas' nickname of "Sin City" was more appropriate.

Look, I don't believe Christ is the Son of God, but I do think he had some incredibly wise teachings. To hear someone, much less two someones, completely distort those teachings to mean their exact opposite really made me angry. It would be like someone invoking Martin Luther King's speeches to justify the shooting of Black people, or Thomas Jefferson's letters to explain why we need to form a theocracy. It's just wrong, and it made me sick.

That was a disgraceful display, and both Jerry Yang and Timmi deRosa should be ashamed.

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Sunday, September 02, 2007

Carnival of the Godless Redirect

Between the time I volunteered to host "The Carnival of the Godless #74" and now, I had decided to move the atheist content of Nerd Country to my other (new) site, "Atheist FAQs". So those of you coming here for the latest edition of The Carnival of the Godless, it can be found right now, hot off the Internet presses, at AtheistFAQ.com!

Anyone else who doesn't know what a "Carnival of the Godless" is, or who wants to know why it's not actually at this address today as advertised, read more below. Otherwise, get thee to the Carnival, post-haste!

First off, I should warn you that I chose to assemble and present the Carnival as if it were from a 1930's era "Doc Savage" type of supernatural pulp adventure novel. I hope you don't find it too distracting, and that the links are still easy enough to navigate. It was a hoot putting it together like that.

For my two regular readers, a Blog Carnival is a "Best of the Week" type of collection that gathers good blog posts from around the Internet on a particular theme, putting them all in one place so those interested in that topic have a good set of links to visit. This particular Carnival is about issues of interest to atheists, hence the name "Carnival of the Godless". There are lots of other Carnivals out there, like the Carnival of Cinema, The Catholic Carnival, or The Skeptics' Circle just to name a few.

You should be warned that some of the blog entries featured in the Carnival of the Godless (CotG) are pretty hostile to religion and religious adherents. Such is the nature of the world; I prefer to be more non-confrontational, but I don't think it's a bad thing sometimes for people to get in each others' faces, either. I have a different style, but the other way can work, and work very well, also. To each their own.

All that's by way of saying that if you're a theist, there are a few posts in the CotG this time around that might piss you off. So be warned.

One more time, Carnival of the Godless #74 is now available on AtheistFAQ.com.

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Tuesday, June 19, 2007

The Purpose of This Blog

This is in response to a comment by GeoPoet in an earlier thread, here. If the rantings of an evil atheist about religion are going to scorch your ears, you'd probably better not click the "More" button. No, really, stop right there. Don't click that link! Don't --
D'oh! Oh well, you were warned.

GeoPoet Said:

I point these out because I get the impression, wrong perhaps, that there doesn't seem to be much attempt at balance in your blog any more.


I believe we have a fundamental misunderstanding here. The purpose of this blog is not to "be balanced", whatever that means. The purpose of this blog is not to "convert" anyone to atheism, as if that's even possible. It is not to give all religions a chance to have their say. It is not to let all atheists have their say. It is not to give every political party a chance to make their case or to examine every side of every issue.

The purpose of this blog is for me, a discreet individual living in a certain place at a specific time, to talk about my life and my thoughts. I live on a ranch in the middle of Texas, surrounded by animals, while working on Internet entertainment software and drawing super-heroes, surrounded by deeply religious Republicans while I am a liberal Democrat and atheist. So that's what I write about.

The purpose of this blog is for me to write about what I know, about what I experience, about what I believe. I don't write about life in the Australian outback, because I don't live in Australia. I don't write about life as a Hindu because I'm not a Hindu. I don't write about how from one point of view George W. Bush is the greatest president in history, because I don't believe that -- I believe he's an insufferable oaf who has done incalculable damage to the country I love. Writing anything else would be not only very difficult since, as I said, I don't know anything about it, but it would also be a lie. And while I freely admit I make mistakes, I don't lie.

If you're interested in any of those perspectives, I would encourage you to use Google Blog Search to go find a blog that writes about them. That's the whole point of blogging, so discrete and previously hard-to-find voices have an outlet. Trying to turn this space into some kind of bizarre "fair and balanced" newsroom would be as farcical as it would be impossible. Expecting me to write stirring defenses of theism is a waste of expectations, because I'm not a theist and my goal isn't to convince or sway anyone -- it's just to write about what life is like from my own point of view. That's it.

However, I feel there is a need to give the whole picture to those who get a biased picture of the joys of atheism, especially relatives reading this blog.


What you're really worried about, I think, is that someone reading this blog might, just possibly, come to the heretical and horrific conclusion that at least one atheist in the world is not, as they were taught in Sunday school or by their parents, evil or horrible. That at least one atheist is a good person, a nice guy, who loves his family and his animals and who wants to help make the world a better place. That atheism, at least for this one guy, doesn't mean Doom. Not with the goal of "converting" them (whatever that means), but just so they can learn some tolerance, some critical thinking, some awareness that unexamined bigotry -- even if fed to them by a well-intentioned parent -- is not just foolish, but harmful.

Ultimately, holding a specific, individual life up for examination, warts and all, is the only way to defeat bigotry. And at the end of the day, that is the purpose of writing about atheism from time to time in this blog; to refute the bigoted tyranny of the majority with the simple reality of my life and my existence.

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Atheist on a Plane

"What," I asked myself while the plane taxied down the runway for takeoff, "do I do now that I don't pray any more?"

I used to travel quite a bit for a job I had, six weeks a year on average, and for all of those flights I prayed on every takeoff and landing. I'd make the sign of the cross and silently form the words:

"Dear Lord, please see this flight and all those upon it safely to its destination. If it should come to pass that any of us should die before we touch down, please take care of our family and friends and let them know that we love them. If we should live past the landing of this plane, please help us walk in the light and be good to each other. Amen."

It took me a while to get the wording right, although I suspected that God would get the idea no matter how clumsy my phrasing. I didn't want to sound like I was telling God what He ought to do, but I also didn't want to blame Him if anything should happen. I didn't want the focus to be on me or my own selfish life, but on those I cared for.

I found the ritual calming and comforting. I wasn't sure, even then, that there was anyone listening or, if there was Someone, that they cared. But it made me feel better. I'd made peace, even if just in my own mind, with how I felt about the people in my life. I'd come, at least in a small way, face to face with the possibility that I could die in the next few hours, and with that acceptance I was able to let the fear go.

But on this most recent trip, I realized that I could no longer engage in that comforting ritual. I didn't believe in God any more. So what do you do when you don't believe in God and you're afraid, in a position where you used to pray?

Personally, I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing slowly. I cleared my mind of distracting thoughts (like that baby crying in the seat behind me). I thought about the prayer I used to say, and realized that what mattered to me about it was focusing on the people in my life. So I brought them up one by one and asked "Are there things I've left unsaid to them? Is there anything I wished I'd done, but didn't? Do they know I love them?"

The answers varied depending on the person, of course, but overall I thought most of them know I loved them. I knew I'd been honest with them and as good to them as I know how to be. I promised to myself that I'd keep trying to be the best husband, son, brother, uncle, and friend I could be. To make the world better, even if only in a tiny way, as often as I could.

For me, letting go of my belief in a divinity has helped me focus more on humanity. To keep in mind that our duty is to each other, not to an invisible force in the sky. I know it's not that way for everyone, or even for most. Theism is, for many, a means to the same end, a way of helping them open their eyes to the other people around them even while focusing on the divine.

When I think of those people -- like my family, and some of my more religious friends -- it makes me happy. I don't much care what excuse people use to be good to each other, whether it's religion or atheism or philosophy or fear or simply good old fashioned human kindness. I'm just glad they do it.

After I opened my eyes and the plane was in the air, I smiled. I felt at peace, ready for whatever destination we were headed towards, and even happy for that baby crying in the row behind me. His mother was being good to him. May we all be so lucky.

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Monday, May 28, 2007

Biology and Morality: Neuroscience the Next Front in the Religion vs. Science Wars?

Digby linked to an article in the Washington Post today titled "If It Feels Good to Be Good, It Might Be Only Natural" that presages what I believe will be the next major cultural conflict between science and religion: neuroscience.

Grafman and others are using brain imaging and psychological experiments to study whether the brain has a built-in moral compass. The results -- many of them published just in recent months -- are showing, unexpectedly, that many aspects of morality appear to be hard-wired in the brain, most likely the result of evolutionary processes that began in other species.

No one can say whether giraffes and lions experience moral qualms in the same way people do because no one has been inside a giraffe's head, but it is known that animals can sacrifice their own interests: One experiment found that if each time a rat is given food, its neighbor receives an electric shock, the first rat will eventually forgo eating.

What the new research is showing is that morality has biological roots -- such as the reward center in the brain that lit up in Grafman's experiment -- that have been around for a very long time.

The more researchers learn, the more it appears that the foundation of morality is empathy. Being able to recognize -- even experience vicariously -- what another creature is going through was an important leap in the evolution of social behavior. And it is only a short step from this awareness to many human notions of right and wrong ...


You would be hard pressed to find a subject most people would consider more firmly entrenched in the religious magisteria than morality. Why we should act the way we do is, I would argue, just about the most fundamental question religion can answer, at least in terms of its practical impact on everyday life. And now science is beginning to tell us that it has something to say on the subject after all.

Eventually, as research into the biological foundations of human behavior and thought continues, we'll probably end up right where we are today with evolution. There will be a few religious fundamentalist holdouts who reject everything science has to teach us about the world. There will be a few atheists who loudly trumpet this as evidence that God does not exist. And the vast majority will simply shrug their shoulders, understanding that no matter what we learn about the workings of the universe, we're not going to change our minds about what it all means anyway. Theistic moderates will simply claim that "This is how God chose to do it", and atheist moderates will say "Yet again we see that God is not necessary to explain anything, but feel free to believe that if it makes you feel better."

And somewhere, Ken Ham will open an "Anti-Neuroscience Museum", bilking his gullible followers out of millions. THAT you can bank on.

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Monday, April 30, 2007

So Your Child Told You He or She Is An Atheist -- Now What?

What do you do if your child comes to you and tells you they've become an atheist?

Before I go on, I want to be sure you understand a few things.

First, I'm neither a parent nor a therapist; I'm just someone who has experienced a range of reactions from people I love about my atheism, and who has a strong desire to help families stay together whenever possible.

Second, every family is different; what I have to say here may or may not apply to your yours.

Finally, this is not a guide to how to get your child to reconvert back to your religion. It's not intended to be persuasive regarding any particular system of belief, it's just meant to address some of the natural concerns and questions parents of faith might have when their child tells them they're an atheist. Ultimately my goal would be to help families in this situation stay together, emotionally available to each other, and supportive of one another.

Having said that, here are some thoughts that might help you deal with this new revelation from your son or daughter.

First Things First

So what do you do if you're religious and your child tells you that he or she is not? I imagine you're shocked, unsettled, and probably a bit angry. But you need to think very carefully about how this is going to affect your relationship with your child going forward. Decide quickly -- do you want to continue having a relationship with them, or is their atheism so painful to you that you cannot bear to deal with them? From that one decision everything else flows.

I'm going to assume that you do want to keep some sort of relationship with your child, or you wouldn't keep reading this. I want to say, therefore, that I applaud you for that; it takes courage and great strength of character to try and work through what must feel like such a fundamental rejection of what you stand for. I think -- no, I know -- it's worth it, though. This after all is your son or daughter, the little being you gave life to, who's shared your home for all these years. To throw all that away in response not to what they do but to what they think, would be a great tragedy.

Now that you've decided you want to figure out some way to live with this in your life, therefore, I'd like to address a few of the things that are probably racing through your mind.

What Do They Even Mean By "I'm An Atheist"?

You're probably thinking of other belief systems that have a creed or a list of rules, some kind of organizing document that says "You have to adhere to all of these to be one of us." Atheism isn't like that, though; there isn't a group people sign up for and whose terms they agree to in order to call themselves an atheist. Atheism isn't a creed or a religion or even a philosophy, nothing so organized as that.

That's what it's not, but as for what it is -- well, it's simply a description, meaning "someone in whom no god-belief is present".

That's it.

In some ways it would be easier if there were a list of beliefs you could read to know where you stand with your child, if they were joining a new church that had a creed or a holy book you could research. But atheism's not that easy to pin down, because as I said it's just a description of an absence. You'd do as well asking what all people who don't collect stamps have in common.

Because atheism is a description and not a creed, we don't have any lists of beliefs or standards you have to agree to in order to join up. There's not even anything TO join, because we're not a club. We're not an organization.

That's why you'll see some atheists who say they want to stamp out all religion, and others who like religion very much, just not for them. Some will be immoral scumbags, and others will be among the very nicest, best people you'll ever meet. Some will be raging liberals and others will be staunch conservatives. Some will prefer living in big urban environments while others are happy in a trailer out in the middle of nowhere.

Without any kind of central tenets or dogma, you don't ever know quite what you're going to get with an atheist, which I suspect is part of what's so disturbing to religious people about them.

So what kind of an atheist is your child going to be? The honest answer is, they're probably not going to be that different from the young man or woman they've been all along.

Are They Going To Stay an Atheist?

It's impossible to say at this point what destination your child's journey is ultimately going to arrive at. Think about the kids you've known in your church. Some of them start out all gangbusters, full of faith and fire, only to peter out quickly and return to whatever life they had before. Others burn quietly, but for longer, and become pillars of the community. Some join the church out of anger, or jealousy, or greed. Others join for fellowship, faith, or love.

Atheists aren't any different; we all arrive at our unbelief for a variety of different reasons. A blogger named Hank Fox once outlined four different types of atheists, and although I think his list would apply to lots of folks I think it's a good place to start setting your expectations. Here's his list, slightly edited for presentation:
  1. "Rebel Atheist": Decides he’s an atheist more or less just to piss off his mom and dad.
  2. "Revenge Atheist": Believes in a god, but happens for some reason to hate him. “You killed my kitten / gave me cancer, you bastard, and I’ll never say I believe in you, ever again.”
  3. "Inherited Atheist": The guy who picks it up from his atheist parents, and just never thinks seriously about religion, or whenever he does, thinks it’s just some nonsense like Elvis worship.
  4. "Awakened Atheist": Someone who realized one day that some part of her religion didn’t make sense, and worked her way through question after question over a span of years, and eventually came to the firm conclusion that it just wasn’t true, any of it.
As to what what your child's ultimate destiny is in terms of religious beliefs, it's hard to say. I think atheists of types 1 and 2 from the list above return to the faith of their childhood fairly often -- it's hard to stay that angry for very long. You're not dealing with a Type 3, or you wouldn't be reading this. If you've got a Type 4 on your hands, well, I have to be honest with you -- you're probably not going to get them back into your faith. Non-belief arrived at with careful deliberation and deep soul-searching is work honestly done and reluctantly surrendered. This type of atheist is also, however, in my opinion the most likely to end up leading a peaceful, fulfilling life. You might not feel like it now, but you should be proud of your child if they're a Type 4, because you raised a deep, careful, thoughtful person, and that's always good.

Aren't Atheists Inherently Immoral? And Doesn't That Mean My Child Will Be, Too?

No, absolutely not! Regardless of why your child has come to atheism or how long they hold to it, atheists are just as likely as theists (a generic term for anyone who does hold a god-belief) to be moral or immoral, good or evil, upstanding or wicked. This study, for instance, clearly shows that there is no correlation between atheism and immoral behavior.

I know it seems counter-intuitive to you, but faith or its lack isn't a very good indicator of how moral or immoral someone is. I would bet if you think back on people you've known in your church, you can come up with examples of people who seemed very pious but who turned out to be just rotten. And I bet the opposite is true, too, that you can think of some who seemed like the worst Baptist/Catholic/Hindu or whatever you ever saw, only in the end they turned out to be just great, great people.

If you've raised a good kid, who knows how to love others and to treat them well, then you've got nothing to worry about in the morality department. Just like there are good and bad people in every church, there are good and bad atheists as well. Who your child is on the inside is far more important than what they think about god, in terms of their personal morality.

But I Don't Want My Child Going to Hell!

I understand how painful that thought must be to you. From a religious perspective, though, I would encourage you to remember that the only one who decides who's going to hell and who isn't, is God. If you believe Him to be a truly merciful, loving god, then trust in Him to do right by your child. Don't put yourself over Him and substitute your judgement for His; trust that He'll do the best thing when the time comes.

If you want to keep a close relationship with your child, however, I wouldn't encourage you to take up this argument with him or her. An atheist doesn't believe in Hell, so at best this is an empty threat. At worst, it's likely going to drive your child even further away from you; Hell is one of the more common reasons atheists give for losing their faith in Christianity. The reasoning goes that no God who is all-loving would condemn someone to infinite, eternal torture for sins committed during a finite lifetime. Pushing that aspect of your faith to your child as a reason they should abandon atheism is likely going to have the exact opposite effect you're hoping for.

What's the Best Way To Talk To My Child About This?

Getting angry when you talk about this is not going to be helpful. In the words of the Bible, "This man speaks harshly, Who can listen to his words?" It's important to try and stay calm and reasonable. That can be hard, especially if you think your son or daughter is telling you this just to hurt you. You may think this is a childish, silly position to take. You may be taken by an incredible urge to slap some sense into them.

Don't.

I can almost guarantee you that this decision or realization is not something your child has come to lightly. It's a serious matter, and deserves serious, adult attention. Talk to them, one person to another, and really listen to what they are telling you. This is your son or daughter; nothing about their belief system is going to change that. They love you, and you love them, and even though you might be furious with each other, don't lose sight of that.

I'm not suggesting you give up your beliefs or to say anything you don't honestly believe -- in fact, I'd say just the opposite. Be open and honest with them, and give them the chance to do the same.

Just remember that their atheism doesn't mean they've suddenly become evil. They're not joining a cult, or planning on ignoring all morality and law. They're just searching for answers, even as you are, trying to figure out what it all means and why they're here, what it is they're supposed to be doing with their lives. Tell them you love them, no matter what (even if you don't feel much like it at the moment, you know you do), and even though you think they're wrong it's not going to change that love.

Atheist or theist, Christian or Muslim, black or white, ultimately that's all any child wants from their parent, to be loved for who and what they are. You don't have to agree with their position, you don't have to condone it or celebrate it, but you do have to deal with it openly and honestly, and always with love.

If you want to continue having a relationship with your child, it's absolutely essential that you not belittle or harangue them. They're making an adult decision, you need to deal with them as an adult. Put yourself in their shoes, imagine how you would want someone to react if you were telling them about your faith for the first time. Your child deserves that same respect and openness.

Most importantly, don't lie to them. Don't say "I completely understand and everything's fine, I'm ecstatic for you" if you're not, in fact, fine and ecstatic with it. Say instead "I hope you understand that this is difficult for me to accept, because I love you and my faith is very important to me. It scares me to think of you not having the same faith I have. But I hear what you're saying and I'm going to try very hard to understand and accept that this is what you believe; it's your life, and I know you have to live it, no matter how I might feel about it personally. Regardless, even if I'm angry or upset or not really understanding right now, I love you and always will."

So Now What Do I Do?

All you can do is love 'em. If you've raised them well, if you've loved them with all your heart, then they're going to turn out fine no matter what faith they end up with (even if it's no faith at all). Be open and honest with them. Keep the lines of communication open. You don't have to give their atheism your blessing, but try to express your feelings in a non-judgmental, non-condemnatory way. "You're going to hell but I love you anyway" is probably not the right approach, nor is "I'm sure this is just a phase and you'll grow out of it." Try something along the lines of "I love you no matter what, and although this isn't something I am happy about, ultimately your faith is your choice and I'm going to do my best to respect your decision."

It's all about honesty, love, and keeping the lines of communication open without being too judgmental or harsh.

And the fact is that there are millions of atheists all over the world living happy, fulfilling, moral, loving, complete lives. This may be the end of your religious hopes for them, but it most certainly isn't the end of your hopes for their moral, intellectual, and emotional well-being.

I hope this has been helpful for you. I want to repeat that I'm not a parent, nor a psychologist, so please take all of this as nothing more than what it is -- the perspective of just one guy, an atheist who has a love for kids and a genuine desire to help families stay together in love and support.

Families are precious gifts; please don't let the differences between your faith and theirs ruin that.

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Sunday, April 15, 2007

On Christian Morality

Some years ago while reading through Genesis, I had a thought about Christian morality which I am not sure is correct. I want to throw it out there to see what you think about it, and to help me understand if I am right or if I am wrong.

I was struggling with trying to understand how the same eternal being could on the one hand tell us through Jesus that we should love each other as he has loved us, and on the other tell us in the Old Testament to dash the skulls of babies against the rocks. The Bible is full of horrifying instances like this, God explicitly ordering His people to commit acts that today we would consider unutterably evil. From slavery to infanticide to rape to genocide, were the God of the Old Testament a human, we would consider Him the most evil being that ever lived, violating virtually every moral commandment He would later give us.

But how could that be? How can you reconcile what we're told God did and what God tells us we should do to be good? It made no sense to me, and I struggled with it long after I'd turned away from Christianity on other grounds. I hate not understanding things, and this I just couldn't get my head around.

Then one day it hit me -- the morality of the Bible is perfectly clear if you assume there are not multiple moral codes, but rather only one. And that one single consistent moral code is "Obey God." That's it. If God says to do something, that is by definition a moral act, an act of Good. If God says not to do it, and you do it anyway, that's an act of moral evil. Acts have no inherent moral weight except for how they relate to whether or not you're obeying God's orders.

Murder is not evil in Christian morality because killing people is wrong; after all, God orders people slaughtered time and again in the Old Testament. No, murder is wrong because God commanded us not to murder people. If He should appear to you and say "I need you to go kill that guy," and you do it, not only have you not committed a sin, you've actually performed an act of moral good.

If that's the case, that the only test for whether or not something is moral is whether or not it conforms to or diverts from God's commands, then the Old Testament makes sense. Dashing those babies' skulls against the stones was a moral act, because the Jews were doing what God ordered them to do. Anyone who sat out that attack, who failed to kill the babies, was committing a sin by disobeying God.

All of the behaviors that trouble the modern sensibility in the Bible make sense in this light. Take slavery, for instance, something modern civilizations view as inherently evil. Slavery was wrong for the Jews in Egypt because God ordered Pharoah to free them. Slavery was right for the enemies of the Jews because God told the Jews they could take slaves.

Slaughtering every male of the Midianites, raping their women, and taking their virgins as brides was not evil because the Jews were simply doing what God told them to do.

At its root, this is a very unambiguous moral code. What it is not, however, is eternal and unchanging in application. This view of Christian morality is just as morally relative as any Unitarian or freethinker or atheist code disparaged by the religious right. When I see a Christian ask an atheist "How do I know you won't just shoot me in the face, then?", I have to ask in return "Well how do I know God's not going to order you to shoot me in the face, then?" In neither case would either person be doing anything "wrong", the atheist (supposedly) because there is no moral code at all, and the Christian because as we've seen, obeying God's commands is the only moral act possible.

Obviously, things are more complicated than that in the real world. The challenge for a Christian in this kind of scenario is figuring out what God's commands really are versus their own mistaken human will, and in deciding what to do when it appears that two mutually contradictory commands are in force.

But I do think viewing Christian morality this way makes sense out of what was formerly (at least to me) the nonsensical Old Testament.

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Monday, April 09, 2007

How Wrong is Wrong, And How Right Is Right?

Having been wrong a time or two, I can appreciate how important it is to know just how wrong you are. Are you "Sleeping on the couch" wrong, or just "You're doing the dishes tonight" wrong? For a man, evaluating the differing degrees of wrongness is a critical skill.

Which means it should come as no surprise that the most prolific author in American history, Isaac Asimov, wrote something on the subject of "The Relativity of Wrong". In this case, Asimov was concerned not so much with the vagaries of gender relations, but on the utility of science.

I find it ironic that what its adherents see as science's greatest virtue -- the ability to change in the face of contrary evidence -- is seen by its detractors as its greatest weakness. And yet I often read or hear criticisms of various scientific theories (or even the practice of science in general) as being built on a house of sand. I've even felt it myself; one day we're told eggs are the greatest threat to your health since arsenic, the next that eggs are the perfect food. It's frustrating living in a world of uncertainty, and I think that's always been one of the strongest selling points of religion. For religion is always the same, its adherents are eager to tell you. God is eternal and so is their faith.

Of course that ignores thousands of years of schism, sectarianism, and apostasy, but you get the general idea.

In his essay, though, Asimov points out that there are relative levels of wrongness, not an absolute scale where there is only completely right on the one hand, and anything that falls short of it in the other. Even when you're wrong, he argues, you can be less wrong than someone else:

The young specialist in English Lit, having quoted me, went on to lecture me severely on the fact that in every century people have thought they understood the universe at last, and in every century they were proved to be wrong. It follows that the one thing we can say about our modern "knowledge" is that it is wrong. The young man then quoted with approval what Socrates had said on learning that the Delphic oracle had proclaimed him the wisest man in Greece. "If I am the wisest man," said Socrates, "it is because I alone know that I know nothing." the implication was that I was very foolish because I was under the impression I knew a great deal.

My answer to him was, "John, when people thought the earth was flat, they were wrong. When people thought the earth was spherical, they were wrong. But if you think that thinking the earth is spherical is just as wrong as thinking the earth is flat, then your view is wronger than both of them put together."
...
In short, my English Lit friend, living in a mental world of absolute rights and wrongs, may be imagining that because all theories are wrong, the earth may be thought spherical now, but cubical next century, and a hollow icosahedron the next, and a doughnut shape the one after.

What actually happens is that once scientists get hold of a good concept they gradually refine and extend it with greater and greater subtlety as their instruments of measurement improve. Theories are not so much wrong as incomplete.


I know that many theists take the same approach towards religion, and in fact that very argument has been made right here on this blog by GeoPoet. I do have sympathy for that approach, as I do for any endeavor that involves humility and an honest search for the truth, an admission that everything we know is but a beginning to a story that is still incomplete.

That is the profound hope that makes us get up in the morning, that as a species, we are moving in the right direction along the Axis of Wrongness, that we are becoming both closer to right, and closer to wisdom, at the same time. As always, the threat is from fear and malice, from the perverse desire to be right regardless of the evidence, to defend our beliefs (whatever they may be) not because they are less wrong than the alternative, but simply because they are ours.

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Thursday, March 29, 2007

Not a Christian?

James Dobson, no longer content with rejecting Christ's admonishments to avoid material wealth and to render political power unto Caesar in his role as head of the immensely wealthy and politically powerful "Focus on Family" group, has now decided to also deny Christ's teaching that "Wheresover two or more of you gather in my name, there too am I" by saying that potential GOP Presidential candidate and Church of Christ member Fred Thompson, is "Not a Christian":

"Everyone knows he's conservative and has come out strongly for the things that the pro-family movement stands for," Dobson said of Thompson. "[But] I don't think he's a Christian; at least that's my impression," Dobson added ...

Mark Corallo, a spokesman for Thompson, took issue with Dobson's characterization of the former Tennessee senator. "Thompson is indeed a Christian," he said. "He was baptized into the Church of Christ."

In a follow-up phone conversation, Focus on the Family spokesman Gary Schneeberger stood by Dobson's claim. He said that, while Dobson didn't believe Thompson to be a member of a non-Christian faith, Dobson nevertheless "has never known Thompson to be a committed Christian—someone who talks openly about his faith."

"We use that word—Christian—to refer to people who are evangelical Christians," Schneeberger added.


I wrote a few days ago about being careful to not redefine a word like "Christian" into meaninglessness by expanding it to cover basically "anyone nice whom we like", but Dobson is guilty of doing the same thing in reverse. He's decided that he gets to decide who's a Christian and who's not by defining the term downward; apparently it's not enough to believe Christ was Lord, that He rose from the dead, that he was the Son of God, or any of that other nonsense.

No, what's important to Mr. Dobson is that you be an evangelical Christian. All of you who foolishly follow Christ's advice to shut yourself in your room and pray devoutly there rather than braying out your dogma on a street corner, well, you're no Christian. I mean come on, will devoutly praying by yourself and remaining private get a Presidential advisor to visit you and ask for your approval of a potential Supreme Court nominee? I think not.

Catholics, Mormons, Church of Christers, you might as well just turn in your crucifixes, because according to Mr. Dobson you're not really Christians. I bet that comes as a shock to you, seeing as how you were believing Christ is Lord and all. Feel free to take a few moments to recover as you're ushered out of mainstream religion and politics by Mr. Dobson and his Dogma Police. Luckily we atheists will be here to give you a hug -- we've been outside the mainstream for so long we've got the place nicely decorated. It's not so bad, really.

I don't know what's more appalling here, Dobson's utter betrayal of the very philosophies he built his vast political and material fortune on, or his complete lack of shame at claiming to be the keeper of "Family Values" while endorsing the thrice-divorced serial adulterer Newt Gingrich for President at the same time.

Wait, that's no contest -- "Deeply offensive, self-indulgent, arrogant power-mad money whores who blaspheme their god" is definitely more appalling. I never thought I'd say this, because I didn't think Newt Gingrich could ever come off looking morally superior to anyone, but he's really slumming it by sucking up to the likes of Dobson.

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Friday, March 23, 2007

Hobbesian Friday: Maturity Edition

On the possible eve of a compromise bill on Iraq passing the House, and in light of recent debates here over religion and atheism, I think this sums it all up pretty well:

© Universal Syndicate
Click for a larger version.

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Monday, March 19, 2007

Christian or NeoChristian?

I read a variety of blogs on ScienceBlogs.com daily, and recently Rob Knop, one of the new members of the team, posted an explanation of why he is both a scientists and a Christian.

There's just one problem -- according to the beliefs Knop himself claims to hold, he isn't a Christian.

He goes on to say that he does not believe God to be the Creator of the universe, nor does he believe that Christ was bodily resurrected from the dead, nor does he believe that faith in Christ is necessary for redemption. To remove these core tenets of the Christian faith from the definition of "Christian" is to render the term meaningless. We already have words that mean "A nice person who behaves in what I consider a moral fashion", why is it necessary to so broaden the definition of "Christian" to mean the same thing? It's giving up a perfectly useful word and getting nothing in return.

C.S. Lewis addresses this point in "Mere Christianity" (I'm attempting to blog about my thoughts while reading it, but frankly I find the book so tedious and unpersuasive I haven't actually been able to bring myself to write anything much). I think Lewis is exactly right, however, about the danger posed by attempts to broaden the meaning of the term "Christian" too far (emphasis mine):

Far deeper objections may be felt-and have been expressed- against my use of the word Christian to mean one who accepts the common doctrines of Christianity. People ask: "Who are you, to lay down who is, and who is not a Christian?" or "May not many a man who cannot believe these doctrines be far more truly a Christian, far closer to the spirit of Christ, than some who do?" Now this objection is in one sense very right, very charitable, very spiritual, very sensitive. It has every amiable quality except that of being useful.


He goes on to compare this attempted broadening of the term to the way "Gentleman" became corrupted to the point of uselessness over the years. It once had a very concrete meaning:

The word gentleman originally meant something recognisable; one who had a coat of arms and some landed property. When you called someone "a gentleman" you were not paying him a compliment, but merely stating a fact. If you said he was not "a gentleman" you were not insulting him, but giving information.


Eventually, however, people began using "gentleman" not as a statement of fact but a comment on the general moral character of a man, regardless of his status as a landowner. There's nothing wrong with inflating a word's scope, of course, but it does mean that at the end of the day, you've lost the ability to use the word in its original, more concrete sense. Worse, it essentially becomes a completely subjective way of referring to whether or not the speaker likes the subject in question or not:

They meant well. To be honourable and courteous and brave is of course a far better thing than to have a coat of arms. But it is not the same thing. Worse still, it is not a thing everyone will agree about. To call a man "a gentleman" in this new, refined sense, becomes, in fact, not a way of giving information about him, but a way of praising him: to deny that he is "a gentleman" becomes simply a way of insulting him. When a word ceases to be a term of description and becomes merely a term of praise, it no longer tells you facts about the object: it only tells you about the speaker's attitude to that object. (A "nice" meal only means a meal the speaker likes.)


This is exactly what is happening with Knop's description of himself as a "Christian" even though he rejects the core tenets of what has traditionally defined Christianity. This is not to say that Knop's not a delightful fellow who lives his life in accordance with the teachings of Christ as he sees them. Clearly, he does. But that no more makes him a Christian than the fact that someone acts gentlemanly means he owns land or has a coat of arms. The word becomes meaningless and useless, as Lewis describes:

A gentleman, once it has been spiritualised and refined out of its old coarse, objective sense, means hardly more than a man whom the speaker likes. As a result, gentleman is now a useless word. We had lots of terms of approval already, so it was not needed for that use; on the other hand if anyone (say, in a historical work) wants to use it in its old sense, he cannot do so without explanations. It has been spoiled for that purpose.


Now if once we allow people to start spiritualising and refining, or as they might say "deepening," the sense of the word Christian, it too will speedily become a useless word. In the first place, Christians themselves will never be able to apply it to anyone. It is not for us to say who, in the deepest sense, is or is not close to the spirit of Christ. We do not see into men's hearts. We cannot judge, and are indeed forbidden to judge.


It would be wicked arrogance for us to say that any man is, or is not, a Christian in this refined sense. And obviously a word which we can never apply is not going to be a very useful word. As for the unbelievers, they will no doubt cheerfully use the word in the refined sense. It will become in their mouths simply a term of praise. In calling anyone a Christian they will mean that they think him a good man. But that way of using the word will be no enrichment of the language, for we already have the word good. Meanwhile, the word Christian will have been spoiled for any really useful purpose it might have served ... When a man who accepts the Christian doctrine lives unworthily of it, it is much clearer to say he is a bad Christian than to say he is not a Christian.


If someone does not believe the basic doctrines of Christian theology, then they shouldn't be called a Christian no matter how much they admire Christ's philosophy or example. Doing so destroys the utility of the term in return, literally, for no gain whatsoever in information. We'd be throwing away a perfectly good word that can be used factually for a nebulous word that's entirely subjective and free of any content beyond "I think he's a nice person".

I believe we need a different term for people like Knop, who follow what they perceive as Christ's moral example and personal philosophy, but who do not hold one or more of the key tenets of Christianity. I would propose the term "NeoChristian"; it honors the person's belief that he or she is a follower of Christ, but also acknowledges that they reject what is commonly considered orthodox Christianity. Using this term also allows "Christian" to retain its utility as an objective indicator of a factual condition (i.e. "This person holds at least these beliefs").

Of course people differ in what they think those basic orthodox Christian tenets are, but I think historically it's fair to say that the Nicene Creed pretty much sets the standard. Namely:
  • Belief that there is only one true God, and that this God is the creator of the universe and all within it;

  • Jesus Christ is the only son of this God, divine in His essence, of one substance with the Father even though he was a mortal as well;

  • Jesus was bodily resurrected on the third day after His death and will come again to judge us;

  • Belief in the Holy Ghost


So here's my proposed definition of "NeoChristian":

A philosophy based on attempting to emulate and live by the moral example set by Jesus Christ while simultaneously rejecting one or more of the orthodox Christian tenets as laid out in the Nicene Creed of 325 AD.


I realize most people will consider this a pedantic and boring treatment of something that's basically just semantics, but I feel it's important to keep language precise and useful. I think it's confusing and inaccurate for people like Knop to appropriate the traditional use of the word "Christian" to describe themselves just because there hasn't been a common word to describe what they are. I don't know if "NeoChristian" will catch on or not, but we've got to have some kind of term that means the same thing and is acceptable to most everyone. Otherwise we're going to use a perfectly useful word, and have nothing in return.

And yes, I realize some will find the fact that an atheist is addressing the topic as somehow incongruous, but that's exactly why I find it relevant and important. "Atheist" has a very specific meaning -- someone who has no belief in a god -- but it's slowly getting conflated with all sorts of irrelevant connotations. You already see it in the way some theists discuss atheists, it's essentially becoming synonymous with "a very bad, wicked, amoral person" and that's clearly inaccurate. Knop's attempting the same thing, only in a positive direction, trying to equate "Christian" with "a good, moral, upstanding, nice person" and that's just as silly. "Christian" and "atheist" should remain discrete, value-neutral terms that have objective meanings, and not simply ways of saying how you feel about the person in question. If "Christian" is to retain any value as a discrete term, then Rob Knop is not a Christian and it's misleading to label him as one.

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Friday, March 16, 2007

Hobbesian Friday: Snow Atheist Edition


© Universal Press Syndicate
Click for a larger version


I think this is best summed up by a quote from another Calvin & Hobbes strip, wherein Calvin's dad says "I'm not sure whether your grasp of meteorology or theology is the more appalling."

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Sunday, February 18, 2007

A Humanist Jesus?

Andrew Sullivan posted this e-mail from a reader that really resonated with me. I think he sums up how I feel about Christ (and other great religious figures as well). People ask me how an atheist can have any hope for the future, take any joy from existence, or see any point to living at all. This is how. I encourage you to read the whole thing, but here's a taste of what I'm talking about:

Humanism then does not reject Christianity, it completes it. Paul was wrong. Our faith is not foolish if Jesus is not literally and physically risen from the dead. We know our faith is true, because we know that death has not defeated him. As a humanist, I do not discard the rich legacy and richness of the Christian tradition, rather I claim to be the true heir to the Christian patrimony. Christians embrace a shallower version of Jesus. I know this because I continue to be transformed by Jesus's love and he continues to inspire my humanist faith - faith that there is yet some good in this earth, that we can all be redeemed by love, and that we should all choose life and should try to live it fully in a spirit of peace and brotherhood with all mankind. It makes no difference to me whether Jesus was born of virgin or rose bodily from his grave after three days. These are signs that the wicked demand because they do not have the heart to see the divine in Jesus and in all of us without such signs.


Fundamentally, what matters to me is people. How we treat each other, the echoes that our good deeds carry forward through the coming years, the kindness and joy we can bring into existence, all of these have meaning and consequence right here, right now, for actual humans. Jesus' greatest commandment was "Love each other as I have loved you." He didn't talk about doctrine, or ritual, or how to build the perfect church. He railed against those who turned religion into a sterile, binding form without substance, focusing his ministry instead on the actual human beings around him.

Prostitutes, lepers, tax collectors, fishermen, these are the cast of Jesus' life, and in his choice of companions I see the greatest lesson of all. It is how we treat each other that matters, not which building we walk into on Sundays. If I could sum up what Christ was all about in just two words, it would be this (which also happens to be the essence of humanism):

People. Matter.

I think perhaps that's one reason I find myself hostile towards organized religion, because they seem to manage to forget that lesson far more often than not. They become about ritual, or words, or buildings, and not the people that make up the true body of their church. It sounds bizarre to say it this way, but in my opinion, religion fails when it becomes more about god and less about people.

I first realized this at the age of eleven or so. I had come back from Confession (for the first time in quite some while) and I was filled with joy, a true feeling of oneness with the world. And it was because the Priest had looked me in the eye and said "You're forgiven." I realized that it was because this human being, not a mysterious and ephemeral divinity but this man, had a moment of genuine contact with me that I felt so complete. It is humans that matter, it is humans that touch each other, love each other, hold each other, forgive each other, give each other a reason to get up each day and to try and carry goodness forward one more step.

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Friday, February 16, 2007

The Evolution of the Texas Legislature

If you haven't heard about Warren Chisum (R), House Appropriations Committee Chairman in the Texas state House, sending around an official letter to the entire legislature stating that evolution is wrong and that a non-rotating earth is the literal center of the universe, click here for the whole scoop.

What makes this story particularly interesting to me is that Warren Chisum (R) is the grandfather of a woman I work with!

Combine that fact with the Young Earth Creationist at work, and I think I am safe in quoting the inimitable Jack Nicholson from "As Good As It Gets" to describe my little slice of Texas:

Sell crazy someplace else, we're all stocked up here.


Finally, I want to leave you with some choice words of wisdom from "Exposing the False Science Idol of Evolutionism, and Proving the Truthfulness of the Bible from Creation to Heaven... - since 1973 -", references in the original proposed bill:

The following subjects confirm that the Copernican Model of a rotating, orbiting Earth is a factless, observation-denying deception that is the keystone which is holding up all of modern man’s false "science" and "knowledge".


I can't speak for anyone else, but the idea that legislators in two different states now want to pass legislation making such lunacy the law of the land certainly makes my head spin, even if the Earth does not.

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Friday, February 09, 2007

A Fulfilling Atheism?

Sam Harris has his latest response to Andrew Sullivan in their "blogalogue" up now (click here for the main repository and scroll to the end), and one part in particular jumped out at me. I'll post it below the fold.

I think one of the truly mystifying aspects of atheism for a theist to "grok" is how an atheist can feel any sense of hope or wonder or happiness without what the theist sees as the wellspring of all those glorious feelings -- God. Sam puts it into words very well here, I'll just let him speak for himself (all emphasis is mine):

Finally, let me make it clear that I do not consider religious moderates to be “mere enablers of fundamentalist intolerance.” They are worse. My biggest criticism of religious moderation—and of your last essay—is that it represents precisely the sort of thinking that will prevent a fully reasonable and nondenominational spirituality from ever emerging in our world. Your determination to have your emotional and spiritual needs met within the tradition of Catholicism has kept you from discovering that there is a mode of spiritual and ethical inquiry that is not contingent upon culture in the way that all religions are. As I wrote in The End of Faith, whatever is true about us, spiritually and ethically, must be discoverable now. It makes no sense at all to have one’s spiritual life pegged to rumors of ancient events, however miraculous.

[snip]

I’m asking you to imagine a world in which children are taught to investigate reality for themselves, not in conformity to the religious dogmatism of their parents, but by the lights of truly honest, fearless inquiry. Imagine a discourse about ethics and mystical experience that is as contingency-free as the discourse of science already is. Science really does transcend the vagaries of culture: there is no such thing as “Japanese” as opposed to “French” science; we don’t speak of “Hindu biology” and “Jewish chemistry.” Imagine a world that has transcended its tribalism—racism and nationalism, yes, but religious tribalism especially—in which we could have a truly open-ended conversation about our place in the universe and about the possibilities of deepening our experience of love and compassion for one another.


I don't fault anyone who finds comfort and a deep love for other people in their religion, but I hope this offers a glimpse about how an atheist can do the same within their own (non) belief. Speaking just for myself, I hope to find a system of ethics and morality which are as culture-neutral as science, as Harris puts it. I doubt we'll ever get there, but it's important to me that we try.

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Hobbesian Friday: Changing Beliefs Edition




Ed Brayton from "Dispatches From the Culture Wars", made the following comment on one of his posts regarding "The Blasphemy Challenge" (a very silly and pointless exercise by people on YouTube who proclaim they deny Christ and thus are eligible for eternal damnation):

Exactly my point, thank you (though I couldn't care less who's right about the interpretation of the "don't blaspheme the holy spirit" verse). As I said, I would find a bunch of videos, or better yet essays, on why people left Christianity or what they find unconvincing about it very interesting. That would be an argument. That would be communicating ideas. That would actually be something worth thinking about.


I was looking at the above "Calvin & Hobbes" strip and Ed's comment resonated with me. I think reading such stories would be very interesting for everyone, and so I issue you this challege -- write an essay, comment, video blog post, or e-mail message on the topic:

"Why I stopped believing what I believed before, and now believe this instead."



This isn't really intended to be a "Why I became an atheist" exercise, what I'm most interested in is the process people go through in the course of changing their fundamental beliefs. Maybe you were raised Baptist and turned away from that in favor of Catholicism. Maybe you were raised an atheist and eventually converted to be an Episcopalian. Maybe you were raised Christian and became a Muslim, or gave up on God altogether and settled on atheism.

What I'm interested in hearing is stories of how and why you came to the conclusion that the faith (or non faith) you were raised in no longer was satisfying, fulfilling, or convincing to you. There's already plenty out there about the end of the story, about why you decided that the new belief system was better, but there's not a lot about the first part of it, about how people decide that what they fervently believed before is no longer correct.

Again, this isn't so much a request for conversion stories as it is a request for "de-conversion" stories -- I want to know why you don't believe what you used to any more, not why you currently believe what you do, if that makes sense.

I look forward to hearing what people have to say about it. If I get any submissions (either in comments or via e-mail) I'll compile them and put them into a new category. You can contact me with at afdstudios@gmail.com if you like, or you can leave a comment here with either your listing or a link to your blog / web page where I can read what you've got to say.

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Saturday, February 03, 2007

Jeff Hebert, Biblical Scholar

Oh my, this is somewhat startling:

You know the Bible 85%!
 

Wow! You are awesome! You are a true Biblical scholar, not just a hearer but a personal reader! The books, the characters, the events, the verses - you know it all! You are fantastic!

Ultimate Bible Quiz
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Granted, the questions are pretty easy, and out of the multiple possible answers, at least one is kind of a joke. I'd wager most anyone with a basic grounding in Western Civilization would do pretty well at this. Either that, or I've done a lot more reading and studying than I thought, and clearly that can't be the case -- when would I have time amid the donkey wrangling and turkey pickling?

(Hat tip to PZ Meyers, another atheist who apparently knows the Bible fairly well -- scary.)

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Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Is Empathy Exclusively Christian?

With thanks to "Atheist in a Mini Van" (and a hat-tip to "Unscrewing the Inscrutable"), I bring you this brilliant essay from an eleven year old girl whose teacher asked the class to write a "pop essay" on "What I Want For Christmas". A brief passage:

I take another look around my classroom and notice that Mahmeed is absent-mindedly cleaning underneathe his fingernails with the cap from his pen. Emily is feverishly trying to catch my eye and, having done so, mouthing the words, "I don't celebrate Christmas...I'm Jewish." in a quizzical manner. Jayden is doing what he normally does during such pop essays: he's looking out the window- probably wondering where his parents will get the money for January's rent and feeling guilty for daring to think about a gift. He's pretty sensitive.


What made me write this post profiling the essay, though, is the response of the teacher:

Her teacher wrote this at the end of her essay:
"Possum#1*, thank you for your thoughtful remarks. I don't think you're an atheist but I respect your empathy for your friends. Please see me after class today. A+"

After class, possum#1 said that her teacher told her she couldn't be an atheist because her "ability to care for others feelings isn't an atheist trait." and that her "attitude was very Christian."


I see this a lot, people assuming that certain emotions or morals -- love, caring, tenderness, concern for others -- are the exclusive domain of their own particular faith system. Almost universally, it is assumed that an atheist, who after all doesn't believe in a supreme being who enforces rules, must by the very nature of the universe be incapable of morality. "Why not just go shoot everyone in the face?" is a question I've been asked by believers.

The common atheist response is to say something like "If the only reason you're not shooting me in the face is because you think you're going to get punished for it when you die, then please don't come near me with a gun."

Less whimsically, though, it seems obvious to me that empathy is a universal human trait that faith systems commonly coopt for their own purposes. Most people are capable of understanding that if something hurts them, it's likely to hurt someone else too. That's generally enough to keep them from then going out and doing that to the neighbor. This built-in moral sense, this fundamental understanding that other people are basically like you and you should thus treat them well, is common to virtually every culture in history, including pre-religious ones. It's more commonly expressed as The Golden Rule -- "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" -- and it's something we see even in non-human life.

In other words, the empathy comes first, then morality is built on top of it, and finally religion arises to codify and enforce the moral system erected on the foundation of empathy. Religion doesn't "cause" moral behavior, any more than the institution of monogamous marriage "causes" the birth of children. The urge comes built in ("I want to screw"), then morality arises on how to deal with it ("people should be responsible for the children they produce"), and finally religion comes up with a system for ritualizing and enforcing the moral code ("Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor's Wife"). It's easy to confuse the effect for the cause, but it's a serious mistake to do so. You inevitably end up with something like "(the) ability to care for others feelings isn't an atheist trait".

We are not moral beings because of religion, we are religious beings because of morality. Once you understand that, it's easy to see why this little girl had compassion for her classmates "even though" she's an atheist. The impulse to love and care for each other is not a purely Christian value, and to label it as such is both incorrect and insulting.

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Friday, January 19, 2007

Religious Moderates and Reason

I apologize for the lack of posting. The bad winter weather here -- or "The Big Chill: Ice Storm 2007 (dunh dunh DUNH!) Extreme Weather Extreme Graphics and Music i.e. DANGER DANGER DANGER!!" would have you call it -- has cut us off from the Internet for the last four days or so. I finally was able to drive in to work yesterday for the first time to get online.


Andrew Sullivan

Sam Harris
I have a lot to catch up on, and will hopefully be making several posts tonight and tomorrow, but for now I'll just point you to this interesting "blogologue" between Andrew Sullivan (a Catholic conservative, Time Magazine blogger, and author of "The Conservative Soul") and Sam Harris (atheist and author of "The End of Faith") about religious moderates and their relationship with reason. It touches on many of the same subjects as the religion/atheism posts I've made here.

A lot of the talk about religion and science or reason focuses on the extremes, the religious fundamentalists who fly planes into buildings or the Jerry Falwells who call down tornadoes on cities who accept that evolution is the best explanation for how life arose on Earth. This blogologue, though, is discussing the religious middle, those who, like Andrew Sullivan, believe that religion and reason are entirely compatible and there is never any need for religion and science or reason to conflict, who draw a distinction between fundamentalists and what Sullivan calls the faith of doubt.

You can find the still-ongoing discussion here, I hope you enjoy it.

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