Part I: Morality Without God?
Introduction
The notion that belief in a Supreme Being is necessary for the existence of morality has sometimes been been mentioned in passing, in this blog and others within the "Triumvirate." I've felt that this required a response in kind, but the scope is certainly big enough to require a separate blog, at least, to do the topic justice. I do not intend to give evidence that morality is possible without God. I intend to give evidence that morality - that is, the familiar sort of personal governance which we all use in day-to-day life - is not possible, or at least not compatible at face value, with the notion of a Judeo-Christian law-giving God.
Note: For the record, I state the obvious, which is that this blog is a "response" to a non-existent statement. My good friend John Stegeman, has not (I think) stated that he holds all of the positions that I will counter. This is, after all, a monologue, not a dialog. So, I'm using arguments from a theistic point of view which are my best approximation (in good faith, I'm honestly not trying to make a straw man) of the Christian perspective.
"God's Law"
Christian morality revolves around two tightly coupled ideas.
1. God defines morally correct action.
2. Your own behavior, in accord or discord with God's law, determines your eternal fate.
Morality without a perfect author is seen as ludicrous by the Christian (or Jew, or Muslim, for that matter), simply because it's seen as a matter of truth. If morality cannot be known absolutely, then it becomes a matter of relativism. Who is to say that my actions are any less proper than yours? It's your word over mine, might makes right, etc, etc. This is the nature of the argument which I challenge.
Facts and Values
Before I go any further, I want to talk about the distinction between facts and values. A fact is simply a verifiable statement describing something about the world. A value is describing what "ought to be". In other words, describing an end or state of being as desirable or "good".
Wikipedia has an excellent article about David Hume's "is-ought" problem, which describes the extreme difficulty of translating a fact or an "is" statement, into a value or an "ought" statement. For example, if a person wishes to win a race, then they ought to train themselves to run quickly. That "if" is the critical word, there, since there's no absolute rule that says a person ought to want to win a race in the first place. That "if" is a marker for an implied value. But if you take it another step further and say, a person ought to win a race if they want to be a well respected athlete. Again, the value is implied an pushed out, forming an infinite chain where the value has no clear logical origin.
What has this got to do with our topic? Well, Christianity has a convenient work-around for this problem. Christian morals are not defined as facts or values. Christian morals are defined as facts and values. God's law is both a verifiable truth (well, verifiable through faith, I guess) and a value describing what "ought to be". Christianity does not say "A person ought to love their neighbor if they want to get along, and be a working member of society." Christianity says "A person ought to love their neighbor" - period. Why? Because. Because it's God's law, and God is perfect, therefore his law is absolute, therefore it is not subject to context, or your feelings, or your culture, etc, etc.
Well and good. Good for Christianity. My challenge is this - why should a person be motivated to act on that law? Is the statement of fact enough to actually motivate a person to act? Not without help. What help, you ask? Read again #2 under God's Law: "Your own behavior, in accord or discord with God's law, determines your eternal fate." This little stipulation, frequently swept under the rug by conscientious Christians when speaking about righteousness and love, is the missing piece of Christianity's fact-value equation. To update our example, "A person ought to love their neighbor, if they wish to be be in accordance with God's law and thus avoid eternal damnation." Now, please, be honest. Isn't that a much more compelling reason to act morally? And doesn't that statement resonate much more than it's "do it just because" predecessor?
My Catholic counterpart John might answer this by saying "Hell is actually irrelevant to the matter. Christians obey because it's the right thing to do, period, not because of the promise of paradise or damnation." [John - if I'm wrong on this, sorry for putting words in your mouth]
Ok. If so, I find that hard to believe. Have you ever tried taking heaven/hell completely out of your moral equation? Just to see what morality would taste like without it? It's got to be difficult to do, but here's a possible example:
YHWH: "John, I'm installing a moral button in your bedroom."
John: "What's that?"
YHWH: "It's a button. The important thing is that you not push it."
John: "Ok. Fair enough."
YHWH: "Right. Bye then."
John: "Wait"
YHWH: "Yes?"
John: "Hypothetically, what would happen to me if I push it?"
YHWH: "Nothing."
John: "Nothing?"
YHWH: "Right."
John: "I won't go to hell?"
YHWH: "No, you're guaranteed to go to heaven no matter what you do. Eternal bliss, etc"
John: "You won't be mad?"
YHWH: "Nope"
John: "But you'll secretly love me a little less, right?"
YHWH: "No, of course not. I'll love you just as much."
John: "Ok, why does it matter whether I push the button or not?"
YHWH: "Because! It's morality. That little button encapsulates everything I've defined as good and evil in this universe. All that is significant, important, crucial is within that button. It is really all that matters."
John: "Will it change anything here on earth?"
YHWH: "No."
John: "Will it change anything at all?"
YHWH: "No."
John: "I see. Well, I have no problem avoiding a button. I'll just throw some dirty clothes over it and forget about it. No problem."
YHWH: "Excellent! Oh, wait"
John: "Yes, Lord?"
YHWH: "I nearly forgot, the button does do one thing when pressed."
John: "Ah, I figured there was something!"
YHWH: "Yes. It dispenses orgasms"
John: "Uh, what?"
YHWH: "Yes, it dispenses orgasms. When you hit the button an orgasm comes out and floats around until it hits you, then you experience an 10 second orgasm"
John: "I see..."
YHWH: "Yes. Also, if you hold it down it goes into rapid fire mode, shooting orgasms in all directions"
John: "I see... Well, guess you'd better be heading out..."
YHWH: "You're not going to hit the button, right?"
John: "Right. Absolutely. You bet. I'll be seeing you, Lord..."
Now, tell me truly: Is there any compelling reason for John not to push and hold down that button for the rest of his natural life? I would submit that, no, there is not. An even more pressing question is, why the hell did God create such a button? What makes that button significant at all (apart from the orgasms, of course) if it doesn't change anything, or entail anything? Isn't an effect of some kind required for it to be in any way significant? Can it, in itself, mean anything without something else being entailed? I would submit that, no, it cannot.
Morality Without God
Concepts of "right" and "wrong" have been with us a very long time. Values like "kindness" and "charity" have probably been with us at least as long as we've been settled in cities. Values like "courage" and "prudence" have probably been with us at least since we've been hunting animals for food.
Good and evil are easy concepts to grasp, but difficult to master. It's hard to say, in clear unambiguous language, why a person should act properly apart from the selfish motivations (social incentives, wealth, safety, etc). Personally, I tend to liken good morals to good taste. Aesthetics, in other words. However, this is just as arbitrary and relative as any other answer that has been floated thus far. These are very trying, and indeed disturbing, moral dilemmas. If we dig deep enough down our chain of shared values, we may find no solid foundation except for our inherited material needs, or - an even more terrifying prospect - we may find no foundation at all but our race floating alone though infinity. That thought gives me no comfort.
I can offer no apology for this, and no obvious solution. This is the state of things, as they are, when it comes to morality. This is what we have inherited, through tradition and shared experience from our ancestors. It is not perfect, absolute or universal. It is unavoidably human, and subject to the human flaws of being arbitrary, limited, relative, and difficult to prove.
My point, however, is that Christianity - for all the claims of absoluteness - is not a viable alternative. If the afterlife is taken into consideration, the law becomes a simple matter of self-preservation, or self-interest. I do this for the sake of my immortal soul, and that's it. If the afterlife is not considered, then the law is absolute and immaterial, yet shallow and empty. The "meaning", the purpose of this law becomes so abstract as to be completely unapproachable, and unpersuasive in human terms.
The question is not whether morality is possible without God. The only morality we've ever known is, in fact, a godless morality. The question is, "How do we come to terms with that?"
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
The Myth of Early Christian Restorationalism
When it comes to historical figures, my rule of thumb is "the more you know, the harder they are to love". Everything human, both individual and institution is flawed. It's attractive to believe that these flaws are limited to the superficial, but they're not. Rot at the core spreads outwards, and we're all a little rotten, inside and out. Knowledge casts a complexity on something, and makes it difficult to lump it into absolutes.
I know some folks who have had a certain fixation on early Christianity. When I say early Christianity, I mean like apostolic. Only the first 50 years or so. Their affection for early Christianity is matched by their distrust and contempt for later, more orthodox flavors of Christianity (and beyond). Until lately, I've been sympathetic to this viewpoint. For one, I too have deep contempt for the history of orthodox and catholic traditions in east and west. Christianity of the 4th and 5th centuries took a deep, penetrating dive into some Extreme Nastiness which I don't think it ever recovered from. I'm also sympathetic to those who desire a less rigid and organized form of faith that goes "back to basics" as it were.
Lately, however, I've identified the psychological pull that makes apostolic Christianity so appealing: we know next to nothing about it. The Christianity of Peter and Paul was still gestating, it wasn't even in it's infancy yet. It was a cult in the true sense of the word, it really had no orthodoxy. What a Christian community looked like from city to city was very different. The nature of Christ himself, his relationship with God, how to properly worship aformentioned God were all still very much undecided. If you had to classify it at all, it would be as a sect of Judaism (leaving out Paul's flock of course).
And that's my point. To a large degree, it's a blank slate on which the modern Christian is free to project his own judgements. It's the legend of Camelot, a kernel of historical truth with modern notions and sensibilities appended. What do we really know about Peter? He lived. He had a following. He wrote some letters. He was martyred. But was he a dick? Was he condescending to people who took his dictation? Did he flirt with girls in his congregation? Dunno. Dunno because he wasn't prominent enough among his contemporaries to have his foibles recorded for posterity.
On the other hand I know that Caesar was vain and sensitive about his baldness. I know that Marc Antony has a HUGE asshole who told lowbrow jokes, gambled millions of dollars in debt, and told his debtors to go screw themselves. I know that the emperor Tiberius kept a cadre of pre-pubescent boys (his "minnows") trained to follow him while he swam and nibble at his scrotum. And so, it's appropriate that we don't hold much reverence for Tiberius. But the reverence and special place that some hold for the early Christian movement, that has not been earned. It's only due to a lack of detail that we feel comfortable enshrining it. Perhaps if Peter and Paul were running the whole show, like Ambrose and Augustine were, history would shine a little light on their unapproachable holiness, and we'd be left with a more complex view of Christianity, that's doesn't file away so neatly and easily.
I know some folks who have had a certain fixation on early Christianity. When I say early Christianity, I mean like apostolic. Only the first 50 years or so. Their affection for early Christianity is matched by their distrust and contempt for later, more orthodox flavors of Christianity (and beyond). Until lately, I've been sympathetic to this viewpoint. For one, I too have deep contempt for the history of orthodox and catholic traditions in east and west. Christianity of the 4th and 5th centuries took a deep, penetrating dive into some Extreme Nastiness which I don't think it ever recovered from. I'm also sympathetic to those who desire a less rigid and organized form of faith that goes "back to basics" as it were.
Lately, however, I've identified the psychological pull that makes apostolic Christianity so appealing: we know next to nothing about it. The Christianity of Peter and Paul was still gestating, it wasn't even in it's infancy yet. It was a cult in the true sense of the word, it really had no orthodoxy. What a Christian community looked like from city to city was very different. The nature of Christ himself, his relationship with God, how to properly worship aformentioned God were all still very much undecided. If you had to classify it at all, it would be as a sect of Judaism (leaving out Paul's flock of course).
And that's my point. To a large degree, it's a blank slate on which the modern Christian is free to project his own judgements. It's the legend of Camelot, a kernel of historical truth with modern notions and sensibilities appended. What do we really know about Peter? He lived. He had a following. He wrote some letters. He was martyred. But was he a dick? Was he condescending to people who took his dictation? Did he flirt with girls in his congregation? Dunno. Dunno because he wasn't prominent enough among his contemporaries to have his foibles recorded for posterity.
On the other hand I know that Caesar was vain and sensitive about his baldness. I know that Marc Antony has a HUGE asshole who told lowbrow jokes, gambled millions of dollars in debt, and told his debtors to go screw themselves. I know that the emperor Tiberius kept a cadre of pre-pubescent boys (his "minnows") trained to follow him while he swam and nibble at his scrotum. And so, it's appropriate that we don't hold much reverence for Tiberius. But the reverence and special place that some hold for the early Christian movement, that has not been earned. It's only due to a lack of detail that we feel comfortable enshrining it. Perhaps if Peter and Paul were running the whole show, like Ambrose and Augustine were, history would shine a little light on their unapproachable holiness, and we'd be left with a more complex view of Christianity, that's doesn't file away so neatly and easily.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
On Prayer
To continue the dominant theme of the last few weeks - as well as my enjoyable role as devil's advocate - I'd like to write about prayer.
What I don't want to write about is the traditional atheist line about prayer being pointless or stupid. That's very played out, and not convincing to anyone but other atheists. Besides, it's so boring. No, sir. I'm going to argue that prayer is - in theory and in practice - immoral. Immoral for anyone who takes the concept of God seriously (as I do).
When I say God, I'm really referring to the modern version of the God of Abraham. A transcendent God. A God of infinite wisdom, power, and goodness. Not a flawed superhuman like Zeus. It's important to make that distinction, because really, what's the harm in petitioning a god like Zeus? Something like Zeus isn't worthy of worship, he's just the supernatural equivalent of a neighborhood bully. Stronger than the other kids, but not the equal of an adult. But Jehovah, on the other hand. There's a deity worth worshipping. He's not just stronger than the others, he is strength incarnate. Ditto for wisdom and benevolence.
Take a moment to try to imagine such a God. Maybe you're picturing the old man with the long beard. Probably not. Maybe you're picturing Christ. Maybe you're picturing a kind of fog that covers the whole universe. I tend to picture a single point of light in the center of the universe, which everything is bound to.
Whatever you happen to be picturing, it's an insult to the true nature of God. God is obviously not insulted, He is incapable of being harmed by you, or your thoughts. But you have disgraced yourself by thinking for even a moment that you can hold any piece of His Grace in your crude grey matter. Whatever you imagined, it was a product of you're own, limited self. God is limitless, and the attempt was a failure at a fundamental level.
That is the kind of shame you should be feeling when you try to imagine God. Now think of how much greater that shame should be when you try to petition God.
When a person says:
"I know you have the power to do whatever is best, which you exercise...
And I know your divine plan is one of infinite grace...
And I know that you only want what is best for us...
And I know that I am incapable of understanding the entirety of you and your will...
And I know that do not perfectly understand how you manifest the will on this Earth, etc, etc....
But you see, my mother is very ill. Could you please alter your arrangements to make my life temporarily more comfortable, convenient and proper, in my own flawed perception, even though I don't even deserve this audience in the first place because of my overwhelming sin.."
Shouldn't they feel shame? At least a little? And doesn't that shame indicate something about the rightness or wrongness about their thoughts and actions?
Would it not be better for a person of faith to simply say "I do not understand this world, but I trust in your will and I will endure what I must"?
At some time in my life, I put this question forward to a believer. The person responded by saying that the prayer itself was of little consequence to God, but it was a demonstration of the person's willingness to ask God for help. A kind of theatrical exercise, that puts a man's modesty and lack of pride on display. I accepted this at face value. But not long after, I found this explanation inadequate. You exercise modesty by pretending to exert some kind of control or manipulation over the divine, by whining and flattering the divine with excessive praise? So in other words, you display one quality, while in actuality displaying it's opposite.
Here is my proposal. The theory of God has outgrown the practice of prayer. Prayer was something which made perfect sense when a "god" was just some local asshole who could destroy your crops if you didn't burn the incense properly. Now our concept of God is different, but we continue the old practice because it makes us feel good. But this is a false joy. It does not match well with the required humility of Christianity. It contradicts and diminishes the concept of God in that faith. It confuses the weak minded. It should be dropped.
What I don't want to write about is the traditional atheist line about prayer being pointless or stupid. That's very played out, and not convincing to anyone but other atheists. Besides, it's so boring. No, sir. I'm going to argue that prayer is - in theory and in practice - immoral. Immoral for anyone who takes the concept of God seriously (as I do).
When I say God, I'm really referring to the modern version of the God of Abraham. A transcendent God. A God of infinite wisdom, power, and goodness. Not a flawed superhuman like Zeus. It's important to make that distinction, because really, what's the harm in petitioning a god like Zeus? Something like Zeus isn't worthy of worship, he's just the supernatural equivalent of a neighborhood bully. Stronger than the other kids, but not the equal of an adult. But Jehovah, on the other hand. There's a deity worth worshipping. He's not just stronger than the others, he is strength incarnate. Ditto for wisdom and benevolence.
Take a moment to try to imagine such a God. Maybe you're picturing the old man with the long beard. Probably not. Maybe you're picturing Christ. Maybe you're picturing a kind of fog that covers the whole universe. I tend to picture a single point of light in the center of the universe, which everything is bound to.
Whatever you happen to be picturing, it's an insult to the true nature of God. God is obviously not insulted, He is incapable of being harmed by you, or your thoughts. But you have disgraced yourself by thinking for even a moment that you can hold any piece of His Grace in your crude grey matter. Whatever you imagined, it was a product of you're own, limited self. God is limitless, and the attempt was a failure at a fundamental level.
That is the kind of shame you should be feeling when you try to imagine God. Now think of how much greater that shame should be when you try to petition God.
When a person says:
"I know you have the power to do whatever is best, which you exercise...
And I know your divine plan is one of infinite grace...
And I know that you only want what is best for us...
And I know that I am incapable of understanding the entirety of you and your will...
And I know that do not perfectly understand how you manifest the will on this Earth, etc, etc....
But you see, my mother is very ill. Could you please alter your arrangements to make my life temporarily more comfortable, convenient and proper, in my own flawed perception, even though I don't even deserve this audience in the first place because of my overwhelming sin.."
Shouldn't they feel shame? At least a little? And doesn't that shame indicate something about the rightness or wrongness about their thoughts and actions?
Would it not be better for a person of faith to simply say "I do not understand this world, but I trust in your will and I will endure what I must"?
At some time in my life, I put this question forward to a believer. The person responded by saying that the prayer itself was of little consequence to God, but it was a demonstration of the person's willingness to ask God for help. A kind of theatrical exercise, that puts a man's modesty and lack of pride on display. I accepted this at face value. But not long after, I found this explanation inadequate. You exercise modesty by pretending to exert some kind of control or manipulation over the divine, by whining and flattering the divine with excessive praise? So in other words, you display one quality, while in actuality displaying it's opposite.
Here is my proposal. The theory of God has outgrown the practice of prayer. Prayer was something which made perfect sense when a "god" was just some local asshole who could destroy your crops if you didn't burn the incense properly. Now our concept of God is different, but we continue the old practice because it makes us feel good. But this is a false joy. It does not match well with the required humility of Christianity. It contradicts and diminishes the concept of God in that faith. It confuses the weak minded. It should be dropped.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
On Doubt
I really regret that the word "agnostic" has come to mean "lukewarm atheism" in the modern parlance. Actually, "lukewarm atheist" is a tad on the side of generous. In most cases it's more like "I don't really care either way, and I don't want to spend more than 30 seconds talking about it, so please leave me alone". It's a shame because agnostic is such a beautiful word, with a rich tradition. From the Greek "a gnosis" or "without knowledge". Specifically, without spiritual knowledge or mystical enlightenment.
When I was a teenager I went through a kind of existential crisis. I was pretty much in a state of despair from age 13 through 15 because no one could give me an adequate explanation for why I was here, and what was the point of getting out of bed in the morning. To be fair, it was probably 50% hormones. Anyway, some very friendly Christian friends and family members showed me the meaning that I desperately needed. I was really in love with gnosis, because Truth (note the capitalization) became my life over the next several years.
As time went on I tried a lot of different spiritual notions and identities. One summer day, in between academic years of college (I remember it vividly) I was mowing my parents lawn. I realized something that stopped me dead in my tracks. What started me on this path was not the a sense of Truth, but instead my own psychological need for something. I couldn't cope with something, and I compensated by trying something new. While that certainly didn't invalidate the beliefs that followed, it did invalidate my approach. If my goal was faith, I was going about it all wrong. If my goal was just plain-Jane knowledge, I was also going about it wrong. A turning point had been reached. I had made no firm commitment to any rigid faith, I was just nibbling the corners off of different faiths without putting myself in that vulnerable place that is so crucial.
I would have to ignore my past, pick a faith and stick it out. Or bite the proverbial hand that fed me and brought me out of despair, by giving up my spiritual inclinations.
Obviously I chose the latter, and I made a firm commitment to it. I gave up spiritual enlightenment in exchange for only material knowledge. The thing about material knowledge is, it's a real bitch. I'm strong enough not to lapse into despair again (hormones have lessened some since junior high), but sometimes I get a very strong hankering for some good ole fashioned false hope (being on dialysis was one such instance). But this pursuit of truth (note the lack of capitalization) makes no promises and breaks none. It's also an ethos that my conscience can let me serve absolutely balls out without conflict.
The reason for this blog is in response to the age old charge that material knowledge without it's spiritual equivalent is fatally flawed in that it cannot "understand the divine". That wasn't pointed at anyone, since I'm almost certain I've said that myself - and meant it - several different times in my life.
While it's certainly true that science, reason and material knowledge offer nothing regarding the divine, the infinite or the intangible, there's is a flip side that those with faith do not understand. That is how right, how correct and just and nourishing it feels to simply say "I don't know". To say "It's so intriguing and wonderful a question, but I cannot offer an answer in good conscience, since I honestly don't know". I still hope very much that there is a god, or at least some supreme, creative force that understands and cares about what goes on with us all. A seed within me still believes it. But what I want, and what I need doesn't make it so. To say "it would be wrong to project my wants and needs out onto reality, when I should be doing the reverse" is a supremely good thing. I would call it sacred, actually. The lack of gnosis, the rejection of it in favor of a truth, which is not always comforting, and is indeed sometimes horrible and terrifying (I want to throw in the Lovecraft phrase "terrifying vistas", because I love it), but we pursue it anyway simply because it is true. That is the meaning which I wish I could apply to the word "Agnostic"...
When I was a teenager I went through a kind of existential crisis. I was pretty much in a state of despair from age 13 through 15 because no one could give me an adequate explanation for why I was here, and what was the point of getting out of bed in the morning. To be fair, it was probably 50% hormones. Anyway, some very friendly Christian friends and family members showed me the meaning that I desperately needed. I was really in love with gnosis, because Truth (note the capitalization) became my life over the next several years.
As time went on I tried a lot of different spiritual notions and identities. One summer day, in between academic years of college (I remember it vividly) I was mowing my parents lawn. I realized something that stopped me dead in my tracks. What started me on this path was not the a sense of Truth, but instead my own psychological need for something. I couldn't cope with something, and I compensated by trying something new. While that certainly didn't invalidate the beliefs that followed, it did invalidate my approach. If my goal was faith, I was going about it all wrong. If my goal was just plain-Jane knowledge, I was also going about it wrong. A turning point had been reached. I had made no firm commitment to any rigid faith, I was just nibbling the corners off of different faiths without putting myself in that vulnerable place that is so crucial.
I would have to ignore my past, pick a faith and stick it out. Or bite the proverbial hand that fed me and brought me out of despair, by giving up my spiritual inclinations.
Obviously I chose the latter, and I made a firm commitment to it. I gave up spiritual enlightenment in exchange for only material knowledge. The thing about material knowledge is, it's a real bitch. I'm strong enough not to lapse into despair again (hormones have lessened some since junior high), but sometimes I get a very strong hankering for some good ole fashioned false hope (being on dialysis was one such instance). But this pursuit of truth (note the lack of capitalization) makes no promises and breaks none. It's also an ethos that my conscience can let me serve absolutely balls out without conflict.
The reason for this blog is in response to the age old charge that material knowledge without it's spiritual equivalent is fatally flawed in that it cannot "understand the divine". That wasn't pointed at anyone, since I'm almost certain I've said that myself - and meant it - several different times in my life.
While it's certainly true that science, reason and material knowledge offer nothing regarding the divine, the infinite or the intangible, there's is a flip side that those with faith do not understand. That is how right, how correct and just and nourishing it feels to simply say "I don't know". To say "It's so intriguing and wonderful a question, but I cannot offer an answer in good conscience, since I honestly don't know". I still hope very much that there is a god, or at least some supreme, creative force that understands and cares about what goes on with us all. A seed within me still believes it. But what I want, and what I need doesn't make it so. To say "it would be wrong to project my wants and needs out onto reality, when I should be doing the reverse" is a supremely good thing. I would call it sacred, actually. The lack of gnosis, the rejection of it in favor of a truth, which is not always comforting, and is indeed sometimes horrible and terrifying (I want to throw in the Lovecraft phrase "terrifying vistas", because I love it), but we pursue it anyway simply because it is true. That is the meaning which I wish I could apply to the word "Agnostic"...
Thursday, February 3, 2011
J'accuse!
I accuse my friend, John Stegeman of hypocrisy, heinous duplicity and deliberate deception. I condemn him to living death, and eternal hunger for living blood.
To make a long background story short, John learned something about himself. He learned that his faith in God is paramount, it stands alone. No matter what raw experience life can or will throw his way, or the logical implications of those experiences, John will view them as tests of faith only. Faith is his one essential thing, the rock of his life, around which all other experience revolves, and against which all is to be judged.
That seems reckless and disturbing to me, but that's really beside the point. This isn't about me. The point is that reason is not an equal to faith. It's worth is not absolute, it's a transitory thing. While useful in everyday situations that don't conflict with faith, it is just gravy. If it jives with faith, then goodie goodie. If in conflict, then it is a thing to be endured, not considered.
However, I submit these statements where John seems to augment faith or faith-based positions with reason:
"To be able to hold fast and strong to beliefs can be admirable, but to cling to a belief you desperately want to be true is weak."
"The issue with your argument is that you are making yourself the judge of whether a life is acceptable or worthy. " [on abortion, about which the Catholic Church has a pretty strong opinion]
"I also oppose contraceptives and am against premarital sex but I don't impose that on anyone as engaging in those things are only sinful (again from my beliefs) to the individuals whereas abortion is killing an innocent person"
And the most damning...
"Faith and reason aren't opposing things. They are intertwined. God's word and world are revealed better to us with reason."
No! Absolutely not, and by your own admission! Reason does not have something to say about God's word. God's word has something to say about reason! As Alex said in a comment, if you serve God because it is logical, then logic is your God, and not the Lord. Not just that but if your faith is enhanced by logic, then it is not faith that you've gained but only logic.
What purpose is there for you to argue about matters like abortion where your faith has already decisively and irrevocably judged? When people debate in good faith, they are putting an ante on the table. That being the possibility that they could be swayed, given a persuasive enough argument. You are incapable of that kind of risk in matters relevant to faith. No argument could ever really sway you, not significantly. You risk nothing, other than your time. Isn't that deceptive?
If reason is something that can only add to faith, not subtract from it, then you are playing with a loaded deck. If you win, then hooray! Your reason was the most sound, collect your reward! If you lose, then the contest never really mattered because "It's my belief" and the rest of us must respect that. Stalemate.
Is it fair to sit in an unassailable eagle's nest of faith, while you look down and use logic to snipe at the arguments of others? Is it sportsmanlike? Does it require any virtue or character, like courage or determination? No. It's essentially hunting a caged animal. A tame killing where spectators can sit back and admire the style. A lot of sound and fury, it signifies nothing.
Intended or unintended, malice or no, the effect is the same. Bad Truthsmanship. I read it. I understood it. I condemn it.
Maybe you consider those quotes to be "water under the bridge" since, after all, you've learned something new about the nature of your faith. I can happily accept that. But be honest, and state matters of faith as just that. Just the simple fact. You were playing a double game. But I squeezed you, I hammered you until you chose your side. You have made your choices, sir! You make yourself comfortable with that...
To make a long background story short, John learned something about himself. He learned that his faith in God is paramount, it stands alone. No matter what raw experience life can or will throw his way, or the logical implications of those experiences, John will view them as tests of faith only. Faith is his one essential thing, the rock of his life, around which all other experience revolves, and against which all is to be judged.
That seems reckless and disturbing to me, but that's really beside the point. This isn't about me. The point is that reason is not an equal to faith. It's worth is not absolute, it's a transitory thing. While useful in everyday situations that don't conflict with faith, it is just gravy. If it jives with faith, then goodie goodie. If in conflict, then it is a thing to be endured, not considered.
However, I submit these statements where John seems to augment faith or faith-based positions with reason:
"To be able to hold fast and strong to beliefs can be admirable, but to cling to a belief you desperately want to be true is weak."
"The issue with your argument is that you are making yourself the judge of whether a life is acceptable or worthy. " [on abortion, about which the Catholic Church has a pretty strong opinion]
"I also oppose contraceptives and am against premarital sex but I don't impose that on anyone as engaging in those things are only sinful (again from my beliefs) to the individuals whereas abortion is killing an innocent person"
And the most damning...
"Faith and reason aren't opposing things. They are intertwined. God's word and world are revealed better to us with reason."
No! Absolutely not, and by your own admission! Reason does not have something to say about God's word. God's word has something to say about reason! As Alex said in a comment, if you serve God because it is logical, then logic is your God, and not the Lord. Not just that but if your faith is enhanced by logic, then it is not faith that you've gained but only logic.
What purpose is there for you to argue about matters like abortion where your faith has already decisively and irrevocably judged? When people debate in good faith, they are putting an ante on the table. That being the possibility that they could be swayed, given a persuasive enough argument. You are incapable of that kind of risk in matters relevant to faith. No argument could ever really sway you, not significantly. You risk nothing, other than your time. Isn't that deceptive?
If reason is something that can only add to faith, not subtract from it, then you are playing with a loaded deck. If you win, then hooray! Your reason was the most sound, collect your reward! If you lose, then the contest never really mattered because "It's my belief" and the rest of us must respect that. Stalemate.
Is it fair to sit in an unassailable eagle's nest of faith, while you look down and use logic to snipe at the arguments of others? Is it sportsmanlike? Does it require any virtue or character, like courage or determination? No. It's essentially hunting a caged animal. A tame killing where spectators can sit back and admire the style. A lot of sound and fury, it signifies nothing.
Intended or unintended, malice or no, the effect is the same. Bad Truthsmanship. I read it. I understood it. I condemn it.
Maybe you consider those quotes to be "water under the bridge" since, after all, you've learned something new about the nature of your faith. I can happily accept that. But be honest, and state matters of faith as just that. Just the simple fact. You were playing a double game. But I squeezed you, I hammered you until you chose your side. You have made your choices, sir! You make yourself comfortable with that...
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Breaking My Friend, John
I want to make it clear why I must break one of my most beloved friends, John Stegeman. Since he's - in all likelihood - the only person reading this, I won't be wasting anyone's time, and he's sure to misinterpret my motives. What I do is not for his own good; I don't believe he will be happier as one of the godless. It's not for the betterment of society, since it will probably not make him a more productive person. And it's certainly not for the cause of Justice or Righteousness or some such thing. It's for the cause of aesthetics. When the light hits my retinas and I see him faithless, things will be a little more orderly and neat. Something that was skewed for so long will have been squared neatly with the rest, and the overall scene will be much more pleasant because of it.
I am a man of reason. I'm not stating that because I'm proud of it. I don't think that reason necessarily makes a person happier, stronger or more proper. It's just a statement of fact. I've tried and failed to have faith. It's not in me to suspend disbelief. For me, I can only have one vehicle for understanding the world, and that's reason. I've stopped resisting this and now embrace it.
My friend Alex is the opposite of myself. To quote Orwell for the second time today, Alex is a Newthinker. If Alex is alone in a room, and he believes that he is floating, then he is floating. If something is required to be true, Alex makes it true through belief. If that same thing is suddenly required to be false, it is instantly false through Alex's belief. If something is required to be both absolutely true and false in the same instant, then it is. Alex has the "true faith" in a way that even the most devoted mystics and holy men could have never imaged, or understood, for that matter. Alex's faith is beautiful because of it's total purity, simplicity and raw will.
So, if I'm an Oldthinker, and Alex is a Newthinker then that makes my friend John the protagonist. Winston Smith, the everyman that most will relate to; that's John. He is a reasonable man with a set of beliefs. He's usually very committed to those beliefs, although it's certainly true that he frequently transgresses. He'll be quick to take the blame for his own flaws and mistakes, though. He would never question the validity or value of his Church and Doctrine. At the same time, he would never give up reason for the sake of belief. You won't see him bombing an abortion clinic or any such thing. He'll continue paying his taxes and going to work.
John has two vehicles for understanding the world. He's got a foot on each vehicle, and as the world proceeds, and each vehicle veers together, then apart (sometimes far apart), John's legs splay, his body contorts, and appendages dislocate. It's quite an effort that he pulls off remarkably well. But it's unfortunately true that someday (maybe decades from now) the world is going to break him. He's going to lose one of the vehicles, and he's going to be left with only reason. How can I be so sure that he won't give up reason for the sake of belief? Because John could never be Alex. He's simply not made of the right stuff (perhaps noone is). He can't have that "true faith", and he's also not the sort to pull the release valve and give in to madness. That leaves him with firmly in the domain of reason, and the faithless.
I will not wait for that to happen. It's an assault on taste to allow this half & half act to continue any longer than it has to. The nauseating mix of dogma and a prioi reason that churns out of his spaghetti factory. Repulsive. In the end, he'll end up with one of us, and I know it has to be me. "Observe this prize person who denies he's for hire!". We all have our limits and our price. In the end, there's a level of pain that will buy him. So, what I do is a kindness, not a cruelty. Why wait until he's a useless old husk? Let's get this over with now. I think I'm going to have to get out of my comfort zone if I'm going to pull this off. I'm game for the challenge, though.
I am a man of reason. I'm not stating that because I'm proud of it. I don't think that reason necessarily makes a person happier, stronger or more proper. It's just a statement of fact. I've tried and failed to have faith. It's not in me to suspend disbelief. For me, I can only have one vehicle for understanding the world, and that's reason. I've stopped resisting this and now embrace it.
My friend Alex is the opposite of myself. To quote Orwell for the second time today, Alex is a Newthinker. If Alex is alone in a room, and he believes that he is floating, then he is floating. If something is required to be true, Alex makes it true through belief. If that same thing is suddenly required to be false, it is instantly false through Alex's belief. If something is required to be both absolutely true and false in the same instant, then it is. Alex has the "true faith" in a way that even the most devoted mystics and holy men could have never imaged, or understood, for that matter. Alex's faith is beautiful because of it's total purity, simplicity and raw will.
So, if I'm an Oldthinker, and Alex is a Newthinker then that makes my friend John the protagonist. Winston Smith, the everyman that most will relate to; that's John. He is a reasonable man with a set of beliefs. He's usually very committed to those beliefs, although it's certainly true that he frequently transgresses. He'll be quick to take the blame for his own flaws and mistakes, though. He would never question the validity or value of his Church and Doctrine. At the same time, he would never give up reason for the sake of belief. You won't see him bombing an abortion clinic or any such thing. He'll continue paying his taxes and going to work.
John has two vehicles for understanding the world. He's got a foot on each vehicle, and as the world proceeds, and each vehicle veers together, then apart (sometimes far apart), John's legs splay, his body contorts, and appendages dislocate. It's quite an effort that he pulls off remarkably well. But it's unfortunately true that someday (maybe decades from now) the world is going to break him. He's going to lose one of the vehicles, and he's going to be left with only reason. How can I be so sure that he won't give up reason for the sake of belief? Because John could never be Alex. He's simply not made of the right stuff (perhaps noone is). He can't have that "true faith", and he's also not the sort to pull the release valve and give in to madness. That leaves him with firmly in the domain of reason, and the faithless.
I will not wait for that to happen. It's an assault on taste to allow this half & half act to continue any longer than it has to. The nauseating mix of dogma and a prioi reason that churns out of his spaghetti factory. Repulsive. In the end, he'll end up with one of us, and I know it has to be me. "Observe this prize person who denies he's for hire!". We all have our limits and our price. In the end, there's a level of pain that will buy him. So, what I do is a kindness, not a cruelty. Why wait until he's a useless old husk? Let's get this over with now. I think I'm going to have to get out of my comfort zone if I'm going to pull this off. I'm game for the challenge, though.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
On Moderation
Moderation is for wimps.
According to Aristotle, every virtue is the median between two extremes. For example, courage is the median (or balance) between a state of cowardice (too little) and foolhardiness (too much). I've never been sure if I could buy into that, although I'm not sure if I can adequately explain why.
To use the example of courage again, I feel that courage has no relation whatsoever to either cowardice or foolhardiness, except that the latter two are a complete lack of the former. I feel that courage is similar to the virtue of wisdom (a kind of "applied wisdom"). Someone is courageous when they see what must be done, and do it despite fear, doubt, misunderstanding, whatever. Someone is foolhardy or reckless because they don't adequately understand the situation, the cause/effect and the benefit/risk of the situation, and they put themselves at risk for no good reason. Someone is cowardly because although they see clearly what what is necessary, but lack the will to overcome fear. Cowardice and foolhardiness are both incomplete versions of courage. But that doesn't mean that the cure for cowardice is an extra dose of foolhardiness, or vice versa.
OK, that was "virtue". Now for personal ideology (or "convictions", "principles" or "beliefs"). There are some who say that it's important to moderate (that's the word I'm going to use for the sake of simplicity) your ideology (again, that's the word for simplicity, but fill in with whatever you like). That you shouldn't be too extreme or fundamentalist when it comes to putting your ideology into practice. While I certainly agree that fundamentalists are almost never fun to be around, I disagree with this emphasis on moderation. Ideology and belief systems, just the same as virtue, are centered around an ideal.
Although people in the "real world" may not always live up to that ideal, it should be something that they should be able - with rigorous effort - to put into practice without serious negative repercussions. My problem with Christianity is that with the ideology of most sects, you can't put those ethics and teachings into practice on a large scale without serious problems for both adherents and society as a whole. It's sometimes a completely irrational set of commandments and principles that simply don't work in the real world when taken very seriously. That's strictly a problem with the ideology itself, not the "extremeness" of it's some of it's adherents.
"Tie it Together" analogy
Earlier I said that foolhardiness was basically courage without the wisdom understand what's best. Christianity is like foolhardiness being called "courage". Someone might say that "courage is an excellent guide, but shouldn't be practiced in extremes". That's good advice, but it misses the point entirely. There's a serious problem with that definition of courage and it needs to be adjusted. Likewise, there are some serious problems with the tenets of Christianity that need to be rectified (or perhaps thrown out altogether and start over). Watering it down, or taking the middle path when putting them into practice is merely treating the symptoms, not the disease itself.
According to Aristotle, every virtue is the median between two extremes. For example, courage is the median (or balance) between a state of cowardice (too little) and foolhardiness (too much). I've never been sure if I could buy into that, although I'm not sure if I can adequately explain why.
To use the example of courage again, I feel that courage has no relation whatsoever to either cowardice or foolhardiness, except that the latter two are a complete lack of the former. I feel that courage is similar to the virtue of wisdom (a kind of "applied wisdom"). Someone is courageous when they see what must be done, and do it despite fear, doubt, misunderstanding, whatever. Someone is foolhardy or reckless because they don't adequately understand the situation, the cause/effect and the benefit/risk of the situation, and they put themselves at risk for no good reason. Someone is cowardly because although they see clearly what what is necessary, but lack the will to overcome fear. Cowardice and foolhardiness are both incomplete versions of courage. But that doesn't mean that the cure for cowardice is an extra dose of foolhardiness, or vice versa.
OK, that was "virtue". Now for personal ideology (or "convictions", "principles" or "beliefs"). There are some who say that it's important to moderate (that's the word I'm going to use for the sake of simplicity) your ideology (again, that's the word for simplicity, but fill in with whatever you like). That you shouldn't be too extreme or fundamentalist when it comes to putting your ideology into practice. While I certainly agree that fundamentalists are almost never fun to be around, I disagree with this emphasis on moderation. Ideology and belief systems, just the same as virtue, are centered around an ideal.
Although people in the "real world" may not always live up to that ideal, it should be something that they should be able - with rigorous effort - to put into practice without serious negative repercussions. My problem with Christianity is that with the ideology of most sects, you can't put those ethics and teachings into practice on a large scale without serious problems for both adherents and society as a whole. It's sometimes a completely irrational set of commandments and principles that simply don't work in the real world when taken very seriously. That's strictly a problem with the ideology itself, not the "extremeness" of it's some of it's adherents.
"Tie it Together" analogy
Earlier I said that foolhardiness was basically courage without the wisdom understand what's best. Christianity is like foolhardiness being called "courage". Someone might say that "courage is an excellent guide, but shouldn't be practiced in extremes". That's good advice, but it misses the point entirely. There's a serious problem with that definition of courage and it needs to be adjusted. Likewise, there are some serious problems with the tenets of Christianity that need to be rectified (or perhaps thrown out altogether and start over). Watering it down, or taking the middle path when putting them into practice is merely treating the symptoms, not the disease itself.
Friday, January 21, 2011
On Evangelism
My good friend John Stegeman posted a blog about facebook evangelists that I want to elaborate on.
John is against the bible-beating, churchy evangelists since they usually don't succeed in converting people, and they end up alienating people in general. His point is that it's better to maintain friendships by using a light touch, and offering conversion only when your friend initiates the conversation.
My point was that, if you have a duty to convert, then shouldn't you go absolutely balls out on it? Isn't anything less a copout, since your putting a secular relationship before your duty to God? And doesn't that say something about Christianity in general, and how it's adherents are able to strike a happy balance while living in a less than totally Christian environment?
I want to elaborate on that last point a little more. In my opinion, the vast majority of Christians are quite reasonable and well integrated individuals, who really have no interest in getting "all up in my business". However, I think the reason why they're well rounded and balanced about spiritual and personal matters is because they're choosy about which doctrines they want to put into practice, and rigidly they do so.
But isn't that a serious theological problem? If you can't obey Christ's teachings literally, wholely and without reservation in every aspect of your life without ending up as a nutty evangelical, doesn't that indicate a flaw in the whole doctrine/ethos/what-have-you?
Kookie analogy
It's like having a recipe for cake, with some instructions that are clearly wrong (perhaps some elements of cookie-making have made their way into the recipe). If you follow them word for word, you'll end up with a horrible culinary chimera, a mix of cake and cookie that's in no way satisfying. But if you are using your own best judgment (say 1 egg instead of 3) to fix the recipe, how do you know what the end product is supposed to look like? Can it even properly be called a recipe?
John is against the bible-beating, churchy evangelists since they usually don't succeed in converting people, and they end up alienating people in general. His point is that it's better to maintain friendships by using a light touch, and offering conversion only when your friend initiates the conversation.
My point was that, if you have a duty to convert, then shouldn't you go absolutely balls out on it? Isn't anything less a copout, since your putting a secular relationship before your duty to God? And doesn't that say something about Christianity in general, and how it's adherents are able to strike a happy balance while living in a less than totally Christian environment?
I want to elaborate on that last point a little more. In my opinion, the vast majority of Christians are quite reasonable and well integrated individuals, who really have no interest in getting "all up in my business". However, I think the reason why they're well rounded and balanced about spiritual and personal matters is because they're choosy about which doctrines they want to put into practice, and rigidly they do so.
But isn't that a serious theological problem? If you can't obey Christ's teachings literally, wholely and without reservation in every aspect of your life without ending up as a nutty evangelical, doesn't that indicate a flaw in the whole doctrine/ethos/what-have-you?
Kookie analogy
It's like having a recipe for cake, with some instructions that are clearly wrong (perhaps some elements of cookie-making have made their way into the recipe). If you follow them word for word, you'll end up with a horrible culinary chimera, a mix of cake and cookie that's in no way satisfying. But if you are using your own best judgment (say 1 egg instead of 3) to fix the recipe, how do you know what the end product is supposed to look like? Can it even properly be called a recipe?
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