British philosopher Bertrand Russell once wrote a short book entitled Why I Am Not a Christian, which I first encountered during my first year in college. The title shocked me in my naivety. For some reason I had assumed that most Westerners at least claimed to be Christians. Here, though, was someone not only declaring the opposite, but writing a book giving reasons why.
At that time I considered myself a Christian — at least I wanted to be a Christian. By the time I graduated (from a private, Presbyterian school, ironically enough), I no longer considered myself a Christian. I didn’t know what I was, but I knew I wasn’t a Christian.
I have kept this to myself, by and large, since then. I feel, however, that it’s time to make a definitive statement regarding my personal views towards Christianity, and hat follows is an exploration and explanation of both why I am not a Christian and what takes the places of theistic belief in my life. It is intended primarily for friends and family as a sort of personal belief (or lack thereof) statement.
A few introductory words, though: to those of you who might be Christian, I do not intend this to be an attack on you. Though it is, to a degree, an attack on your beliefs, I intend it more to be an explanation as to why your beliefs are not my beliefs. In other words, this piece could, like Russell’s, be titled “Why I Am Not a Christian” but should not be interpreted as, “Why You Should Not Be a Christian.”
Further, I don’t claim any of this to be particularly novel material. [1] Some of these things I have noted on my own, while objections I have read in the works of others. At this point, I will not take the trouble of documenting the source of each and every idea as it is a personal work and not intended to as an even vaguely scholarly source of any sort.
“But I left through the backdoor, and I threw away the keys.”
Most Christians describe some kind of relief they felt when the “accepted the Lord as their personal Savior” (or any number of similar formulations). I personally never felt at peace until I admitted to myself that I didn’t believe any of it and that all the things I said to others about Jesus and even the things I wrote in my journal were what I thought they wanted to hear and I wanted to say. I did want to believe, although I now attribute that to a desire to fit in with the Christian majority around me at school more than anything else.
Recently I found files containing exchanges I’d had on America Online from early 1995, and they almost all deal with the changes in the Worldwide Church of God. I hadn’t read the material for at least five or six years. I guess I’d saved it “for posterity’s sake” and promptly forgotten about it. Reading it showed me a lot about myself, though.
As I was reading some posts, I realized that I didn’t know if I’d written them or someone else had. In other words, I couldn’t recognize my own writing. It wasn’t so much that the style was different as much as the ideas I was putting across now seem completely foreign to me. By and large, I had been saying and writing things I had wanted to believe. In the past months, though, I’ve come to understand that I simply paid it lip-service, but deep down, I never really believed.
In early 1995, I began acknowledging in my personal journal the doubts I was having.
What is this thing, Christianity? It is the worship of a Jewish carpenter who lived two millennia ago. It is a religion based on a book, allegedly written by God’s inspiration. Was Christ more than a radical social reformer? Were his miracles more than a fictional construction of the gospel writers?
No matter how much I want to believe, to feel the fervor that others experience, I cannot.
Could Christ be the creation of a codependent society? The ultimate father-figure who provides the love a fleshly father should give?
A few weeks later, I wrote,
[My cousin’s] funeral has put a thought in my head; a thought that continues to plague my life; an idea from which I cannot escape: religion is the invention of man; an attempt to impose some order on the chaotic universe; an effort to give meaning to life and, more importantly, death. It feels like an invention of weak-minded humans, an urge for perfection in an imperfect world. Plato’s forms, Allah’s sovereignty, Christ’s love — mix them all together and you have the essence of religion, of each and every god: perfection, omnipotence, and love. Is humanity so codependent?
If there is a creator, does it sit and laugh at man’s frail personifications of it? Perhaps it allows itself to be known by certain people: Buddha, Christ, Mohammad. They have a deeper understanding of this creator and we worship them for it.
Another few weeks passed and a faculty member of the college I was attending died from cancer. During the memorial chapel, I scribbled the following in my journal:
Death — and my thoughts are again turned to religion. God is such an abstraction that I read about him and never feel him; not even death brings any real, any substantial emotion of which God is the source. The only feeling I get is doubt. Is that from God?
Still later, sitting in library, I wrote:
I find myself thinking of the whole God issue still. I am frustrated by the whole thing. I sit now in the library and just a moment ago I looked up at Rev. Osterhaus and peered at his forehead, wondering what was in his mind, what books, what learning, what lectures. But mainly what beliefs. He firmly believes in God. He would stake his life on it, I would imagine. Yet that means nothing to me. No matter how important God is to him, God is still a mere abstraction to me. He’s a blurred, hazy idea, and little more than that. I can read Barth and Schleiermacher until I’m sick of them and yet it makes God no less concrete. I don’t believe in God. Not in a personal, substantial way. I read theology, talk about Christian ethics and doctrine, yet I don’t really believe in the basis of it all. It’s not that I am an atheist. It’s not that I choose not to believe in God — I just can’t believe in God.
Finally, by 3 April 1995, I’d reached the critical point, and I admitted the following to myself:
I have come to realize that I am not a Christian. I would not call myself an atheist, but I certainly wouldn’t call myself a Christian. Matt [a friend from college,] put it this way last night: “I’m a follower of a man named Jesus who had some pretty good ideas.” I don’t accept Christ as being the son of God, though it’s difficult for me to type those words. I wish I could say, “Oh, yes, I believe in all that stuff . . . it’s all so wonderful.” But I don’t see all the wonder. [2]
And now, some seven years after that, I would amend that by omitting the portion about being a follower of a man named Jesus. And I feel I am a better person for it. [3]
The Bible
One of the simplest reasons I am not a Christian stems from the source of all Christian doctrine: the Bible. I find it inconsistent, immoral, and illogical, and I cannot base my worldview on a book that I think so little of.
Contradictions and Inconsistencies
The issue of inconsistency is somewhat shocking in that a Christian can be shown a glaring inconsistency and somehow manage to explain it away.
The one event which one would expect the least amount of inconsistency is in fact where we find a disturbing amount: the description of Jesus’ death and supposed resurrection.
To begin with, what did the centurion at Jesus’ cross say when he died?
- The centurion, seeing what had happened, praised God and said, “Surely this was a righteous man.” (Luke 23.47)
- When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, “Surely he was the Son of God!” (Matthew 27.54)
In some ways this is a minor difference, yet the implications are vastly different. The latter indicates that the centurion “accepted Jesus” while the former just implies that he realized Jesus wasn’t the horrid person he’d been made out to be.
Next we have the issue of who first discovered the empty tomb? Each of the four gospels gives a different account:
- After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb. (Matthew 28.1)
- When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. (Mark 16.1)
- On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. (Luke 24.1)
- Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. (John 20.1)
Admittedly, the account in John does not say that the others were not with Mary Magdalene, but this is an argument from silence and hence not an argument. The fact is simple: in one account we have only Mary Magdalene; in a second, Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary”; in a third, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome; and in the fourth, “the women,” whom we later learn to be Mary, Mary, Joanna, and some others (Luke 24.10).
This leads to another contradiction: to whom did the resurrected Jesus first appear? Mary and Mary (in Matthew’s account) or Mary alone (as in John’s account)?
Finally, did his disciples first recognize Jesus when he appeared to them? In Matthew they do; in Luke, they don’t.
More inconsistency arises from the question of salvation and how exactly humans can achieve it. Is salvation through faith or works? On the one hand, we find the apostle Paul saying in three different epistles that it is through faith:
- For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith. (Ephesians 2.8)
- . . . no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law . . . a man is justified by faith apart from observing the law. (Romans 3.20, 28)
- . . . a man is not justified by observing the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ. . . . by observing the law no one will be justified.” (Galatians 2.15, 16)
On the other hand, we find Jesus (who should have known what is required for salvation if anyone in the world ever did) and James saying something quite different.
- You see that a person is justified by what he does and not by faith alone. (James 2.24)
- Now a man came up to Jesus and asked, “Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?” “Why do you ask me about what is good?” Jesus replied. “There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, obey the commandments.” “Which ones?” the man inquired. Jesus replied, “‘Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, honor your father and mother,’ and ‘love your neighbor as yourself.'” “All these I have kept,” the young man said. “What do I still lack?” Jesus answered, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” (Matthew 19.16.21)
This question of (I would go so far as to argue confusion about) faith versus works was the catalyst for the Reformation and hence it was the central tenant of Christianity that caused its greatest division, even though Jesus warned about the dangers of division within the body (Mark 3.25; Luke 11.17). Christianity, then, divided itself because of a glaring inconsistency in its most basic doctrine. [4]
Another question is who needs salvation? In other words, who has sinned and who hasn’t? On the one hand, we have examples of statements in both the Old and New Testaments that no one is perfect:
- for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Rom.3:23)
- there is no one who does not sin (1 Kings 8.46)
- There is not a righteous man on earth who does what is right and never sins. (Ecclesiastes 7.20)
- “Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good — except God alone.” (Mark 10.18)
On the other, we have a couple of examples (not to mention the supposed perfection of Jesus) that clearly contradict these verses:
- Noah was a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time, and he walked with God. (Genesis 6.9)
- In the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was Job. This man was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil. (Job 1.1)
There’s also some inconsistency concerning God’s nature. To begin with there is the question of whether or not God is a god of war or peace: Paul describes him as “The God of peace” (Romans 15.33), but Moses, the traditional author of the Pentateuch [5], held that “The Lord is a warrior” (Exodus 15.3 — in the King James Version it reads, “The Lord is a man of war”).
We also have the question of whether or not God tempts people. James 1.13 states that God doesn’t tempt people, but Genesis 22.1 tells the story of how “God tested Abraham.”
Another contradiction regarding God’s nature — does God change? Does he have to repent? According to most Christians and some parts of the Bible, he is supposed to be never-changing:
- “I the Lord do not change.” (Malachi 3.6)
- God is not a man, that he should lie, nor a son of man, that he should change his mind. (Numbers 23.19)
- Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. (James 1.17)
On the other hand, we find a few examples where God did indeed change his mind.
- Then the Lord relented and did not bring on his people the disaster he had threatened. (Exodus 32.14)
- When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it. (Jonah 3.10, NRS)
Interestingly enough, not only is the question of the source of salvation presented in contradictory terms in the Bible, but also the over-arching theme of a covenant within which we find the theory of salvation provides an excellent example of God changing his mind. I have in mind here the old covenant versus the new. Jesus’ death and resurrection is supposed to have created a new relationship with God, but this means that God changed his mind and realized the old covenant was faulty. Not only does this present an example of God changing his mind (after all, according to Christians, the Old Testament — i.e., Old Covenant — laws are, by and large, no longer binding) but it presents a startlingly weak God who could not get the covenant right the first time, so he had to try again.
Lastly, there are some seemingly insignificant, factual inconsistencies, something seemingly easily avoided if an omnipotent god inspired the Bible’s writing. For example, how old was Ahaziah when he became king? According to 2 Kings 8.26, he was twenty-two years old; according to 2 Chronicles 22.2, he was forty-two years old. More numerical inconsistencies: did Michal have five sons (2 Samuel 21.8) or no children at all (2 Samuel 6.23)? Lastly, there’s no way of knowing how many stalls King Solomon had, for 1 Kings 4.26 reports forty thousand while 2 Chronicles 9.25 states a more reasonable four thousand.
There are two basic ways to resolve these contradictions. One is to say they don’t exist. That’s absurd, for no matter how one explains them away, they do indeed exist. If they were in any other book, the same Christian who claims devotion to the Bible’s teaching would reject it. However, there’s too much at stake for most people (i.e., their entire worldview) to reject the Bible.
Hundreds of clergymen and theologians throughout history have noticed the tremendously large number of problems in the Bible. They can read as well as anyone, and aren’t ignorant or unintelligent. But they have ignored, rationalized, and distorted the meaning of verses beyond recognition. Why? Mainly because they have sincerely believed the alternative is even worse. From their perspective, the only alternative is moral chaos — no Bible, no controls, no morality. So they have accepted the Book, fully cognizant of its imperfections, out of a misguided belief that morality arises from the words one hears rather than the environment is which one lives (Biblical Errancy).
To justify and explain their acceptance of a book filled with Biblical contradictions, apologists engage in twisted, convoluted arguments to show how the contradiction is only superficial. This is evident when we examine
. . . the terminology employed by Biblical apologists with respect to contradictions. They are rarely referred to as contradictions, per se. Such words as “difficulties,” “discrepancies,” “detractions,” and “problems,” are far more evident than contradictions, fallacies, and falsehoods. Using the former denotes an obvious attempt to minimize inconsistencies. A minor discrepancy sounds far less serious than a contradiction (Biblical Errancy).
A second resolution to the issue of Biblical contradictions is the more liberal explanation: God did inspire the Bible, but he used human instruments and thus mistakes crept in. That approach, however, is a slippery slope and leads logically to an entirely unsound Bible. If the Biblical writers could have been wrong about how many stables Solomon had, they could be wrong about any number of other, less trivial things (i.e., whether Jesus in fact rose from the dead or not). In other words, it’s all or nothing.
Immorality
Given the fact that most Christian’s claim a significantly ethical facet to Jesus’ teachings, it somewhat disturbing (though not really surprising) that we find blatantly unethical behavior in the Bible, both Old and New Testaments. However, that is exactly what we find, from beginning to end: examples of immoral actions, some of which constitute pure barbarism. Many passages are misogynistic, homophobic, anti-children, racist and ethnically prejudiced, pro-slavery, and ridiculously superstitious.
Barbarism
Most examples of barbaric cruelty come from the Old Testament and are connected to the Israelites exodus from Egypt and entry into the promised land.
The story of the Israelite’s exodus and the plagues which preceded it is shocking. The final plague involved the murder of all Egypt’s first-born children, apparently regardless to age or anything else. [6] This means that new parents with a days-old child woke to find it dead. A kind god, that.
As the Israelites entered the promised land, they left a trail of destruction and genocide behind them. God apparently commanded Joshua to leave no survivors, including women and children, and on occasion even (inexplicably) livestock. On taking the city of Jericho, “They devoted the city to the Lord and destroyed with the sword every living thing in it — men and women, young and old, cattle, sheep and donkeys” (Joshua 6.14). Later, in the attack on Ai, we read:
The men of the ambush also came out of the city against them, so that they were caught in the middle, with Israelites on both sides. Israel cut them down, leaving them neither survivors nor fugitives. But they took the king of Ai alive and brought him to Joshua. When Israel had finished killing all the men of Ai in the fields and in the desert where they had chased them, and when every one of them had been put to the sword, all the Israelites returned to Ai and killed those who were in it. Twelve thousand men and women fell that day — all the people of Ai. (Joshua 8.22–25)
Presumably, since God had told Joshua, “You shall do to Ai and its king as you did to Jericho and its king, except that you may carry off their plunder and livestock for yourselves” (Joshua 8.2), the people of Ai would have been slaughtered even if they had surrendered. A merciful god, that.
In Joshua 9.1–27, we read of the “trickery” of the Gibeonites, who were afraid that the Israelites would destroy them as they had Jericho and Ai. A delegation of Gibenoites posed as travelers from a distant land and struck a treaty with the Israelites (thus saving them from annihilation). However, “Three days after they made the treaty with the Gibeonites, the Israelites heard that they were neighbors, living near them,” (Joshua 19.16) and this angered them. They were to be destroyed, but through their guile and deception had avoided their literally God-ordained end. “Then Joshua summoned the Gibeonites and said, ‘Why did you deceive us by saying, “We live a long way from you,” while actually you live near us? You are now under a curse: You will never cease to serve as woodcutters and water carriers for the house of my God’” (22, 23). So instead of death, the Gibeonites get slavery.
Joshua and the Israelites’ cruelty and destruction continued, annihilating the cities of Makkedah, Libnah, Lachish, Eglon, Hebron, and Debir. In the end, “Joshua subdued the whole region, including the hill country, the Negev, the western foothills and the mountain slopes, together with all their kings. He left no survivors. He totally destroyed all who breathed, just as the Lord, the God of Israel, had commanded” (Joshua 10.29–39).
There is also the disturbing example of the Ephraimites in Judges 12.4–6.
Jephthah then called together the men of Gilead and fought against Ephraim. The Gileadites struck them down because the Ephraimites had said, “You Gileadites are renegades from Ephraim and Manasseh.” The Gileadites captured the fords of the Jordan leading to Ephraim, and whenever a survivor of Ephraim said, “Let me cross over,” the men of Gilead asked him, “Are you an Ephraimite?” If he replied, “No,” they said, “All right, say ‘Shibboleth.’” If he said, “Sibboleth,” because he could not pronounce the word correctly, they seized him and killed him at the fords of the Jordan. Forty.two thousand Ephraimites were killed at that time.
The story of Lot and the angels that visit him before destroying Sodom and Gomorrah is one of the most barbaric (and misogynistic) in the Bible. [7] As the story is presented in Genesis, God wants to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah but he goes and talks to Abraham about it first. Abraham apparently talks God into sparing the life of Lot, on the basis that Lot is righteous. God sends two angels to warn Lot about the impending destruction:
Before they [presumably Lot and the angels] had gone to bed, all the men from every part of the city of Sodom — both young and old — surrounded the house. They called to Lot, “Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us so that we can have sex with them.” Lot went outside to meet them and shut the door behind him and said, “No, my friends. Don’t do this wicked thing.” (Genesis 19.5–7)
So far so good. At this point, based on the information we have, we can legitimately say, at the very least, that Lot was not wicked. In the next verse, Lot continues to address the men surrounding his house.
“Look, I have two daughters who have never slept with a man. Let me bring them out to you, and you can do what you like with them. But don’t do anything to these men, for they have come under the protection of my roof.”
I hardly think this needs commentary. [8]
Continuing into the period of David, we find a passing that would be amusing if it weren’t so tragic:
David and his men went out and killed two hundred Philistines. He brought their foreskins and presented the full number to the king so that he might become the king’s son.in.law. Then Saul gave him his daughter Michal in marriage (1 Samuel 18.27).
Later there is the “just” punishment of killing David and Bathsheba’s child in 2 Samuel for its parents’ sin. Apparently, though, God forgot what he’d told the Israelites in Deuteronomy 24.16: “Fathers shall not be put to death for their children, nor children put to death for their fathers; each is to die for his own sin.” Later, when inspiring the prophet Ezekiel, he seems to have forgotten about killing David and Bathsheba’s child and states that “The son will not share the guilt of the father, nor will the father share the guilt of the son“ (Ezekiel 18.20). [9]
Some might say that these are examples of human barbarity, and not God’s barbarity. However, in most of these examples God commanded the slaughter of thousands. It’s no wonder the “God of the Old Testament” is often juxtaposed to the God we find presented in the New.
Misogyny
Women have long complained that the Bible is biased against them. Actually, to say that they have “long” complained is incorrect, for only recently have they gained a social voice with which they can make their troubles known. All the same, the Bible has a heavy dose of misogyny.
A good place to begin is the marriage laws of Deuteronomy 22.13 ff:
If a man takes a wife and, after lying with her, dislikes her and slanders her and gives her a bad name, saying, “I married this woman, but when I approached her, I did not find proof of her virginity,” then the girl’s father and mother shall bring proof that she was a virgin to the town elders at the gate. The girl’s father will say to the elders, “I gave my daughter in marriage to this man, but he dislikes her. Now he has slandered her and said, ‘I did not find your daughter to be a virgin.’ But here is the proof of my daughter’s virginity.” Then her parents shall display the cloth before the elders of the town, and the elders shall take the man and punish him. They shall fine him a hundred shekels of silver and give them to the girl’s father, because this man has given an Israelite virgin a bad name. She shall continue to be his wife; he must not divorce her as long as he lives. If, however, the charge is true and no proof of the girl’s virginity can be found, she shall be brought to the door of her father’s house and there the men of her town shall stone her to death. She has done a disgraceful thing in Israel by being promiscuous while still in her father’s house. You must purge the evil from among you.
It seems hardly fair to the woman that she must live with this man after he has so viciously slandered her. It amounts to nothing more than punishing the woman. What is so ironic about the whole situation is that she undoubtedly had very little say in the marriage to begin with. Perhaps the man to whom she lost her virginity was the man she honestly loved. Or perhaps she was raped. Or maybe she was promiscuous in her youth. There is no consideration of how the girl lost her virginity.
A closer look at this system of justice reveals something even more disturbing. If the girl cannot prove her virginity, she is stoned. If she can prove her virginity, her husband has to pay her father “a hundred shekels of silver.” She was the one who was disgraced, but her father receives the punitive damages. Either way, she is simply property caught in the middle with no voice and no rights.
Verses 23 and following present an even grimmer picture for women:
If a man happens to meet in a town a virgin pledged to be married and he sleeps with her, you shall take both of them to the gate of that town and stone them to death — the girl because she was in a town and did not scream for help, and the man because he violated another man’s wife. You must purge the evil from among you. But if out in the country a man happens to meet a girl pledged to be married and rapes her, only the man who has done this shall die. Do nothing to the girl; she has committed no sin deserving death. This case is like that of someone who attacks and murders his neighbor, for the man found the girl out in the country, and though the betrothed girl screamed, there was no one to rescue her. If a man happens to meet a virgin who is not pledged to be married and rapes her and they are discovered, he shall pay the girl’s father fifty shekels of silver. He must marry the girl, for he has violated her. He can never divorce her as long as he lives.
Rape, therefore, is differentiated from consensual sex by one thing: whether the girl screamed or not. What if she was in town, screamed, and was not heard? What if the rapist covered her mouth so she could not scream? What if he held a knife to her throat to keep her from screaming? What if it was a gang rape and they all made sure that she did not scream? What if she was mute and physically unable to scream?
Another factor is whether she is engaged. If she is engaged, then the rapist, by taking her virginity, has stolen from the girl’s fiancé, and this is why he is stoned. If she is not engaged, then he has stolen a virgin from her father, and he must therefore support her for the rest of their lives. In each case, the girl is a possession.
There is obviously blame placed on the woman, even in the case of rape. Even though nothing is to be done to the girl, the conditions are most disturbing: “she has committed no sin deserving death.” It stops short of saying “She committed no sin.” She obviously committed a sin; it’s just not one punishable by death. Yet it gets even more disturbing, for the writer makes provisions for a case in which he is raping her and “they are discovered . . .” With such language it sounds as if they are two teenage lovers sneaking off to the barn for a “quickie.” Again, the girl is caught in the middle, for her father receives the punitive payment.
What is most disturbing is the fact that the rapist must marry the girl. This would do nothing but create a dysfunctional family and punish the girl. Imagine the pain she would feel for the rest of her life, realizing that she is married to the very man who committed (and indeed would commit after the marriage, as every sexual act following could only be rape) such an unspeakable act of violence.
Even the natural functions of women are viewed with disgust in the Bible, clearly show in Leviticus. Menstruation, which is of course perfectly natural and healthy, is viewed as unclean and disgusting (Leviticus 15.19–31). [10] The argument could be made that such provisions were made for reasons of sanitation and the health of the whole camp. It is a noble thought, but why the excessive negativism? Why is this considered “defiling” God’s dwelling place?
What is more disturbing is that not only is it viewed as disgusting; it’s viewed as a sin, one for which atonement must be made. [11] An uncontrollable biological function is to be made right by sin offerings. [12] It would not surprise me to learn that a person with a runny nose was also considered unclean.
Menstruation is not the only natural act which is viewed as disgusting. In chapter twelve of Leviticus we learn that “a woman who becomes pregnant and gives birth to a son will be ceremonially unclean for seven days, just as she is unclean during her monthly period.“ Again, while it might be argued that such laws existed for sanitation, sexism is clearly illustrated by the fact that the mother is unclean for a longer period of time if her child is a daughter.
Unfortunately, the rest of the Bible is littered with examples of prejudice against women. Solomon was clearly a sexist, and this is illustrated by the “wise” sayings he chose to include in The Book of Proverbs. There are many warnings against an adulterous woman who will ensnare men, but there are none about cunning men who will ensnare young virgins. A close look at the seventh chapter of Proverbs reveals this: verses four and five state, “Say to wisdom, ‘You are my sister,’ and call understanding your kinsman; they will keep you from the adulteress, from the wayward wife with her seductive words.” It reminds one of Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky” in which the wise old sage advises the young warrior to beware the Jabberwock, “the jaws that bite, the claws that catch.” This monstrous adulteress is a menace to all pure, undefiled men. Later we get a picture of how she works:
With persuasive words she led him astray; she seduced him with her smooth talk. All at once he followed her like an ox going to the slaughter, like a deer stepping into a noose till an arrow pierces his liver, like a bird darting into a snare, little knowing it will cost him his life. Now then, my sons, listen to me; pay attention to what I say. Do not let your heart turn to her ways or stray into her paths. Many are the victims she has brought down; her slain are a mighty throng. Her house is a highway to the grave, leading down to the chambers of death. Does not wisdom call out? Does not understanding raise her voice? On the heights along the way, where the paths meet, she takes her stand; beside the gates leading into the city, at the entrances, she cries aloud: “To you, O men, I call out; I raise my voice to all mankind. You who are simple, gain prudence; you who are foolish, gain understanding. Listen, for I have worthy things to say; I open my lips to speak what is right. My mouth speaks what is true, for my lips detest wickedness. All the words of my mouth are just; none of them is crooked or perverse. To the discerning all of them are right; they are faultless to those who have knowledge. Choose my instruction instead of silver, knowledge rather than choice gold, for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her. [13]
That is the very epitome of misogyny. It does nothing but paint a negative picture of women. It’s the evil woman who seduces the innocent man to his doom, paralleling the cause of all this: the Fall. However, there is no mention of the opposite happening. Even rape, as mentioned before, seems to be blamed on the woman.
The source of all of this Biblical misogyny is clear: the story of Adam and Eve sets up man as virtuous and woman as evil. It was Eve who tempted Adam, thereby causing the downfall of the whole human race. “For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not the one deceived; it was the woman who was deceived and became a sinner” (1 Timothy 2.13, 14). [14]
While New Testament authors do make significant strides for the rights of women, they seem to stop short of saying that men and women are equal. Paul makes comments like the bold proclamation of Galatians 3.28, yet he also instructs the Corinthian women to remain quiet in church. [15] The role of women in the church is never clearly spelled out and ambiguities remain. What does seem clear is that the mind set that women are somehow inferior was still holding fast in Paul’s time.
One of the most famous passages is Ephesians 5.22: “Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior.” [16] Paul clearly sets up the man as superior to the woman. He is the leader of the family. Instead of a loving democracy, marriage is at best a sensitive monarchy, at worst a brutal dictatorship. Why must one be the leader and one the follower? Why not share the responsibilities of leadership? This would mean putting women on the same level as men, something even “enlightened” New Testament writers weren’t quite willing to do.
The reason why men are superior to women is given in the first letter to the people of Corinth. Paul writes, “A man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God; but the woman is the glory of man. For man did not come from woman, but woman from man; neither was man created for woman, but woman for man” (1Corinthians 11.7-9). Not only are men superior, but also God apparently created women for men.
Cruelty to Children
It is not surprising that children enjoy fewer rights than women, and as could be expected, the Old Testament has many examples of the violation of children’s rights. They have no rights other than protection against being sacrificed to pagan gods. However, if these children do not do what their parents tell them, the consequences are harsh (Deuteronomy 21.18 ff):
If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son who does not obey his father and mother and will not listen to them when they discipline him, his father and mother shall take hold of him and bring him to the elders at the gate of his town. They shall say to the elders, “This son of ours is stubborn and rebellious. He will not obey us. He is a profligate and a drunkard.” Then all the men of his town shall stone him to death. You must purge the evil from among you. All Israel will hear of it and be afraid.
There is no chance for the child to repent, or even prove his innocence. It says nothing about the “men of his town” trying to get his side of the story. They simply hear what the father has to say and take the poor child out and stone him. It’s barbaric and disgusting.
Some might say that this only shows the superiority of the New Covenant, for stories like the parable of the Prodigal Son show Christ’s mercy. I am not certain if this is supposed to make up for the wrongs of the Old Testament; I am not certain if Christians are supposed to be grateful that God is no longer like that, that God no longer requires such barbaric measures.
Slavery
One of the more disturbing facts about the Bible is that slavery is never condemned in either the Old or New Testament. In fact, in both portions of the Bible, rules and regulations concerning the treatment of slaves are given.
It would seem that the New Testament would certainly contain condemnations of slavery. Christ mentions a sort of slavery in himself: Matthew 20.27, 28 “Whoever wants to be first must be your slave — just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Several times Paul mentions being freed from the slavery of sin by Christ’s redemptive sacrifice, but never once is slavery condemned, not by Paul or any other apostle. In fact, quite the contrary is the case. Paul takes quite a casual approach to the concept of slavery: 1Corinthians 7.21 “Were you a slave when you were called? Don’t let it trouble you.” Though he goes on to mention that one can receive freedom through Christ, he never labels slavery as the evil it is. Instead of condemning slavery, Paul gives rules for how Christians are to treat their slaves, and how slaves are to behave. A prime example is Ephesians 6.5–9:
Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ. Obey them not only to win their favor when their eye is on you, but like slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from your heart. Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not men, because you know that the Lord will reward everyone for whatever good he does, whether he is slave or free. And masters, treat your slaves in the same way. Do not threaten them, since you know that he who is both their Master and yours is in heaven, and there is no favoritism with him.
Slavery is given the green light in this passage. Serving one’s master selflessly is seen as a form of serving Christ selflessly. Reward is promised, but in the meantime the slaves are to accept their fate. It’s also interesting to note the disproportionate instruction: Slaves get a great deal of practical “How-To” advice concerning their struggle to be Christian slaves; Masters, on the other hand, get two brief sentences.
It is not surprising that the masters receive biased treatment. Those who owned slaves were the ones who “ran” the ancient world. They were honored, whether or not they deserved it. As such, slaves are instructed to honor their masters as well.
All who are under the yoke of slavery should consider their masters worthy of full respect, so that God’s name and our teaching may not be slandered. Those who have believing masters are not to show less respect for them because they are brothers. Instead, they are to serve them even better, because those who benefit from their service are believers, and dear to them. These are the things you are to teach and urge on them (1Timothy 6.1, 2).
The same ideals are repeated in 1Peter 2.18–21:
Slaves, submit yourselves to your masters with all respect, not only to those who are good and considerate, but also to those who are harsh. For it is commendable if a man bears up under the pain of unjust suffering because he is conscious of God. But how is it to your credit if you receive a beating for doing wrong and endure it? But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.
This is the aspect of Christianity that Malcolm X had such trouble with, and it’s easy to see why. Christian slaves are taught here to accept their fate and endure their hardships, for they will be rewarded in heaven later. In the meantime, masters get their heaven on earth, completely with the freedom to abuse and misuse slaves.
Not only did Paul teach slaves to be submissive; he also did not hesitate to instruct junior disciples in how they should instruct slaves. He gives Titus very specific instructions concerning this:
Teach slaves to be subject to their masters in everything, to try to please them, not to talk back to them, and not to steal from them, but to show that they can be fully trusted, so that in every way they will make the teaching about God our Savior attractive (Titus 2.9, 10).
Obviously Paul is thinking that Christian slaves will have an opportunity to proselytize to their masters. Paul is advising Titus to teach slaves that if they want to be successful in winning their masters over to Christ, they must “put on a happy face.”
Interestingly enough, in the Old Testament there is one law given that actually results in humanitarian treatment of slaves. Deuteronomy 23.15 “If a slave has taken refuge with you, do not hand him over to his master.” It’s interesting to note that Paul does not take this passage into consideration when he sends Onesimus back to Philemon with the accompanying epistle. Though he instructs Philemon to accept Onesiums “no longer as a slave, but better than a slave, as a dear brother,” he does not command this. Furthermore, one would think that if Paul anywhere was going to condemn slavery, he would do so in such a letter. Rather than do that — for whatever unknown reason — he sends Onesiums back to his master with his implicit support of the institute of slavery.
However, the Old Testament also includes instructions to the Israelites about how to treat slaves and where to get them. Leviticus 25.42–44 makes it clear that Israelites are not to hold each other in slavery, but instead their “male and female slaves are to come from the nations around you; from them you may buy slaves.” This illustrates the bigotry that inevitably is a part of slavery. It is an Us-Them situation where the Israelites are only able to hold as slaves people from other lands who are inferior.
In Exodus 21.20, 21 we learn what happens to someone who beats his slave: “If a man beats his male or female slave with a rod and the slave dies as a direct result, he must be punished, but he is not to be punished if the slave gets up after a day or two, since the slave is his property.” I won’t bother to comment on how base that passage is.
The Biblical treatment of slavery is troublesome at best, immoral at worst. Not only does the Bible condone slavery, it also gives instructions to both slaves and masters on how to be Christian slaves and Christian masters. Of course Jesus says, “No one can serve two masters.” One can only wonder what implications Christ had in mind when he said these words.
Jesus’ Example
Moving to the New Testament, Christians claim in Jesus to find a great paragon of morality, and he certainly did have some fine ethical teachings. However, he was certainly not perfect.
To begin with, at least once he lied followers:
Go to the festival yourselves. I am not going to this festival, for my time has not yet fully come. After saying this, he remained in Galilee. But after his brothers had gone to the festival, then he also went, not publicly but as it were in private. (John 7.8–10 RSV)
On another occasion, he either lied or exposed his own lack of knowledge regarding the Jewish scriptures. In John 3.13 he said that no one had ever gone to heaven, but this is a blatant contradiction of 2 Kings 2.11 in which Elijah is whisked into heaven.
Jesus was also a hypocrite, saying in Matthew 5.22 that “anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell.” Yet in the same gospel, Matthew records that Jesus did exactly this: ” You blind fools!” (23.17).
Additionally, he didn’t quite know what to make of the violence/non-violence issue:
“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn “‘a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law — a man’s enemies will be the members of his own household.’ Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10.34-37) [17]
Granted, when Jesus was arrested, Peter leapt with sword in hand to defend him and Jesus made a somewhat pacifistic remark about living and dying by the sword. However, far from solving the problem, this only adds to the troubling list of Biblical inconsistencies, for Jesus at one time seems to be an aggressive individual and at another a pacifist.
Logic and the Bible
There are several passages and narratives in the Bible which are of strained logic at best, and the same can be said of general Christian theology.
I will begin with the account of creation. According to the Bible, the first people are Adam and Eve. Soon after their creation they have two children, Cain and Abel (Gen 4.1, 2). One of the most famous stories in the Bible is Cain’s fatally jealous attack on his brother Abel. After this attack and God’s consequential punishment, Cain cries out, “I will be a restless wanderer on the earth, and whoever finds me will kill me” (Gen 4.14). But in the next verse we hear God’s response: “Not so; if anyone kills Cain, he will suffer vengeance seven times over.” Then the LORD put a mark on Cain so that no one who found him would kill him. Cain heads east to raise a family with his wife.
At this point there is a glaringly obvious question: Where did these other people come from? The implications of Cain’s anguished cry and God’s response are that there are more people living than Eve could possibly have borne. There seems to be enough people that there is by this time such a thing as “strangers.” Of course the Bible records astonishing ages for the first people — some over nine hundred years — and since the Bible doesn’t say how old Cain and Abel are when all this happens, we could assume that they are three or four hundred years old by the time all this transpires. First, I won’t point out how ludicrous is the whole idea that people lived six, seven, and even eight centuries. [18] Second, even five or six hundred years is not enough time to form the civilization implied in the Bible.
The more fundamental problem with the story of Adam and Eve is biological. Adam and Eve would of course form the first generation of humans; their children would obviously make up the second generation. The only way at this point for there to be a third generation is for Adam and Eve’s children to resort to incest. Sex among siblings produces a number of problems, including a decline in survival and fertility rates. This is why it is taboo in all cultures. [19] The fourth generation would either have to have more options, but all would be incestuous. By the fifth or sixth generation, the gene pool would be so depleted that humans would be so weak as to be susceptible to most every ailment and disease imaginable. The point is obvious: A human race coming from two original parents simply wouldn’t survive. [20]
The second example comes from one of the most well-known stories of the Bible: Noah’s ark and the accompanying flood. Such stories of great floods exist in many other cultures (for example, in the Babylonian creation myth) and they always ignite the listeners’ imaginations. This fantastic story is found in Genesis chapter six, and it is a tall-tale from the beginning. God, having decided that he’s screwed up and the whole human race is unfit for existence, tells Noah, the only decent person on earth, to build a huge boat to hold all the animals of the earth and save him the time of re-creating all that stuff. If God created all existing, living creatures back in chapter one (in other words, evolution doesn’t create any new creatures [21]), that must have been one enormous boat. It must have made the Titanic look like a boy from a child’s bathtub adventures. Fortunately, the Bible gives the dimensions of the boat, so we needn’t worry about guessing about the size: The ark was “450 feet long, 75 feet wide and 45 feet high” (Gen 6.15). [22] All the millions and millions of species in the world are supposed to fit into a boat of those dimensions. If the boat were a perfect rectangle, this would result in only 1,518,750 cubic feet. [23] Two of every kind of animal in the whole world are supposed to fit into 1,518,750 cubic feet. [24] Not even taking into account the food necessary to keep that many creatures alive, it is ridiculous to think that every specie in the world could fit into just over 1.5 million cubic feet. This is so absurd that it defies my imagination how anyone could believe that this is historical fact.
The animals themselves present another problem. Assuming that Noah was to take all the animals in the world into the ark, how did animals like the koala bear and kangaroo get from Australia to the Middle-East? And once the flood waters receded, how would they get back to their native environments?
A familiar Biblical problem returns once the flood waters go down and the ark comes to rest in the mountains of Ararat. Noah and his family face the same problem as Adam and Eve: they must repopulate the entire earth, and the only way this is possible is through incest. [25] Once again we are expected to believe that from a handful of people, the whole human race was born.
“Well, the Bible Says . . .”
For Christians the most important book in the world is the Bible. Most of them believe it is the divine word of God, transmitted through humans flawlessly. When Christians have any major dilemmas in their lives the first thing they consult is their Bible. They look to see what Jesus said, or try to find something applicable in the Old Testament. When their concerns aren’t discussed directly, they try to apply the principles of the Bible in an effort to do what Christ would have done. I have no problem with people using any book as a moral guide for their lives. What disturbs me is many Christians’ unwillingness to go beyond the Bible if necessary. It seems some Christians never question, “Why would the Bible say this? And is it right?” They have had a Biblical lobotomy. They replace their brains with the Bible. It is easier after all. Why think for oneself when there’s such a seemingly clear-cut path for one’s life? If, however, they did question the Bible, they might find that there are some fairly awful things in it, as well as some blatant contradictions, as pointed out earlier.
Another problem with following the Bible is that people often do not do it consistently. They select what they want to follow and explain away the rest. For example, in the Old Testament people are commanded not to wear clothes of mixed fabrics. “Do not wear clothes of wool and linen woven together” (Deut 22.11). However, Christians have explained this away by saying it was part of the Old Covenant done away with by Christ’s sacrifice. However, they are perfectly willing to use the Old Testament to back up their hatred of homosexuality. That, apparently, was not done away with in the New Covenant. [26]
Christians often don’t stop to think about just what the Bible is. Put simply, it’s a book, a collection of stories and poetry, prophecies and history, and a bit of almost every other genre of writing one can imagine. In some ways it is amazingly compact and well written. Consider the hundreds of years it took to produce the Bible and you realizes that it is an impressive literary achievement. Yet Christians move beyond this and claim that it houses divine truth, and many go so far as to say that it is the infallible word of the creator of the universe. Here it is important to remember a critical fact about the Bible: much of it is completely unverified. Archeology has confirmed some historical portions of the Bible, but the large majority of it is not validated by any other source, other than different books within the Bible. Of course one cannot use the Bible to prove its own validity. I can preface anything I write by saying, “This is the infallible word of God,” yet that claim certainly does not validate anything.
A common way of using the Bible to prove the Bible’s validity is the use of Old Testament prophecy to show that Christ was truly divine. Any good preacher can produce a list of Old Testament prophecies which Christ supposedly fulfilled in his lifetime. They point out that many of the things which happened in Christ’s lifetime and conform to the ancient prophecies were completely out of Christ’s control. Therefore, he did not simply have a thorough knowledge of the prophecies, which he then used to guide his actions so that he would “fulfill” them. However, the only proof we have that any of these things were in fact fulfilled is the New Testament. There is some extra-Biblical proof that Jesus Christ did exist, but that is a far cry from verifying the claims of the New Testament writers.
Literal and Figurative Pot-Luck Pick
As Christians take all their doctrine and derive all their faith from what is in the Bible, this has some dire implications. If a people are willing to accept the Bible’s claims about Christ’s resurrection and the grace he provides, they must also be willing to accept the rather fantastic stories of the Bible (The Flood, Adam and Eve, etc). Many Christians grow tired of liberal Christians who pick and choose in the Bible (especially when it comes to issues such as homosexuality). “You must accept it all, or you must accept nothing!” they cry, and for once, I am in total agreement with the fundamentalists.
If a person decides that the story of Christ’s passion (especially the resurrection which follows) is historically accurate and not merely allegory, she must also accept the story of Balaam’s donkey, the Flood, and Lot’s wife being turned into a pillar of salt. The reason is very simple: If a Christian says, “Those portions are merely allegory,” or “Those stories are the reflection of a less technologically advanced people trying to make sense of the world around them,” then she must be willing to say the same thing about Christ’s resurrection. I see it as a black and white issue. Arguments that these portions of the Bible are of different genres and from different cultures fail in the end. If God is omnipotent and wishes his ideas to be spread throughout the ages, he should have made clear which portions are true and which are merely allegory.
Questions Raised by Theology
The Logical Impossibility of Jesus’ Dual Nature
Christian theology presents its own logical confusion. The nature of Jesus presents a profoundly simple, binary contradiction. Was he completely human, or was he completely divine? Or was he some strange mixture of the two? Traditional Christianity claims that he was both completely human and completely divine. He had to be completely human for it to be a legitimate sacrifice, for Jews had been killing nonhuman creatures as a form of payment for their sin for hundreds of years and it had done nothing (according to the Jesus’ new theories). And yet he was God, which means he was completely divine. According to Christian theology therefore, Christ was completely human and completely divine, and this is completely irrational. If a being is completely one thing, it cannot at the same moment be completely the opposite. The word “completely” precludes any other aspects. If Jesus was completely human, then there was no divine spark in him; if he was completely divine, he was not human. Just as I cannot be completely male and completely female at the same moment, Jesus cannot be completely human and completely divine at the same moment. It is unquestionably without any logic whatsoever. [27]
Another problem arises when we consider the doctrine of Original Sin. The doctrine of Original Sin holds that all people are sinners from birth, that when Adam and Eve fell from Eden, they took the whole human race with them. As early as Genesis 8.21 we find the idea that even “every inclination of [man’s] heart is evil from childhood.” Commentator Matthew Henry says that
in a graceless soul, one that is not born again, there is disorder, confusion, and every evil work: it is empty of all good, for it is without God; it is dark, it is darkness itself: this is our condition by nature, till Almighty grace works a change in us.
The question is, if Jesus was completely human, or at even partially human, what provided this almighty grace? If Jesus had any humanity in him at all (as opposed to being completely divine), then surely this portion of him would be affected by Original Sin and therefore be blemished. Jesus, the giver of grace, must have either received grace from another source, or he was not a blameless sacrifice. This splits into two problems: First, if Christ received grace from some other source, why was his sacrifice necessary? Why couldn’t other people receive grace from that same source? Second, if Christ wasn’t blameless, then his sacrifice was only for himself (according to Christian theology), for he had to be a perfect sacrifice.
Of course the Catholic church gets around this problem with the idea of the Immaculate Conception dogma. This does nothing to solve the problem, though. If God could remove the blemish of Original Sin from Mary, why couldn’t (or didn’t) he simply do it for all humans?
The fact is simple: Original Sin and Jesus as the completely human, perfect sacrifice simply contradict each other. Jesus’ human nature was, by its very human nature, flawed. Jesus could not be baptized in the same way that young children are today, for there was no Christ for Jesus. No one had died for his sins. So the blemish remained, and he was not the perfect sacrifice.
Even for Christians who do not adopt the theory of Original Sin (and the accompanying view of humanity’s total depravity), the idea of Jesus’ sacrifice does not make sense. If we assume that children are not born with the mark of Adam and Eve’s sin burned on its soul, then they are inherently good. What then is the use of Christ’s sacrifice in that case? The idea is that Jesus, a completely innocent person, died to make up for all our horrid sins. Why couldn’t all the completely innocent children who have died through the centuries accomplish the same thing? Why does the fact that Christ was innocent and yet died make him any different from all the innocent children who have died? One answer might be that Jesus willingly died whereas the children didn’t have any choice. I would argue that this makes their death even more tragic than Jesus’. Yet, what does conscious willingness have to do with anything? It is of course an act of supreme giving and sacrifice, but no more.
Jesus’ Crucifixion and Human Salvation
The core of Christianity is the sacrifice of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of our sins. Whatever differences various denominations have, they converge and agree on this one point. Yet this essential element of all Christianity is also its greatest flaw.
The common notion is that without Jesus’ sacrifice, we are unacceptable to God. We, with our sinful nature, cannot be in his presence. Hal Lindsey explains it thusly: “God is holy, and cannot have a relationship with anyone who falls short of His righteous character” (Hal Lindsey’s Oracle.com). [28] However, through Christ’s sacrifice, we can be saved from the consequences of sin and live eternally with God. It’s strange, though, that a supposedly omnipotent god can’t do something (i.e., allow us in his presence) without this redemptive work of Jesus. This is, unquestionably, a restriction in the character of a being that is not supposed to have any restrictions whatsoever. [29]
One might argue, “But God did overcome it, through Christ.” Indeed, that is exactly what Christianity argues. However, it’s necessary to ask why God would chose such a convoluted method of resolving this problem. Isn’t it much simpler just to say to all souls, “Look, I know you screwed up on earth and sinned, but I’m going to give you another chance here.” If Christianity responds by saying, “But God couldn’t simply do that . . .” then we’re back to the same problem: an “omnipotent” god who can’t do something. The other way out of this is to say that God chose to deal with this little issue via Jesus, and then we get into other problems.
God is supposed to be completely benevolent, but it seems hardly benevolent to make the system such that the only way a person can win is to hear of and accept Christ. That’s rather like General Motors deciding that instead of informing the public about a fatal flaw in one of its automobiles via mass media, it will go door to door to inform people. The people who don’t get the warning will die through no fault of their own, simply because General Motors missionaries haven’t reached their block yet. In other words, it reaffirms the pertinence of the Sunday school question, “What happens to all those people who die without ever hearing about Jesus?”
Unconditional Acceptance versus the “Performance Game”
Christians like to say that God “doesn’t play the ‘performance game,’” meaning that he loves us unconditionally, regardless of what we do. Our worth, in God’s eyes, is not dependent on what we do. But is that really the case? Does the Christian god really accept humanity unconditionally?
Christians like to say that our worth comes through Jesus. That means we are only worth something to God in as much as he is worth something to himself. “God accepts us through Jesus,” say Christians, sometimes failing to realize the syllogism that follows. If God accepts us through Jesus, then it means he doesn’t accept us without Jesus. And that is a condition, and that in turn renders God’s acceptance as conditional. Accept Jesus and God accepts you; don’t accept Jesus and God doesn’t accept you.
Unconditional acceptance would render Jesus as the Christ as completely unnecessary. In other words, because of its theology, Christianity has made it impossible for its god to be truly unconditional.
Jesus’ Nature and Its Implications for Christian Justice
We have already looked at the illogical nature of Jesus’ completely-divine-completely-human, but it also raises very dire implications for God’s justice. It is sometimes argued that it was Jesus divine nature that allowed him to follow God’s law perfectly and thus be a blameless sacrifice. Such a situation means that a purely human man or woman could not have followed God’s law perfectly. She would fall short and become another victim of God’s law. In other words, God created man to be condemned. He created a law which must be followed, then made a creature who was unable to follow it. Only Jesus, with his completely divine aspect, could follow the law. Therefore, man was condemned to die. God’s law was immoral, for it was impossible for anyone to follow except God himself (in the person of Christ).
This brings to mind the line from the Protestant hymn which states that man is a “cup to hold God’s grace.” This paints a picture of an extremely insecure God. If, as my argument indicates, God created mankind in order that we might fall and give God the opportunity to provide grace, then it also implies that the Christian God somehow needed this to be complete, that he needed humanity’s thankfulness for the gift of salvation to feel content. This is of course reaching, but I believe the implication is certainly there.
Motives for Creation
“Why are you here!?” Worldwide Church of God founder Herbert Armstrong asked this rhetorical question frequently. He claimed that traditional Christianity provided no real reason for creation, and while I am not likely to do this often, I agree with him.
There is a simple question that Christianity fails to address adequately: Why would an omnipotent, omniscient, perfect being want to create anything? Since God is often referred to as “father” and comparisons to God as a “perfect father” have been made for ages, it might be helpful first of all to think about why earthly fathers have (read: create) children.
For some it seems to be something of a need — a biological necessity or a psychological need. However, neither of these would be possible in a god who is perfect. A need would constitute an imperfection. We need things because they somehow make us better. A need is a deficiency. If something is perfect, though, it can’t have needs.
Other fathers have children because they simply want to. Desire, though, cannot exist in a perfect being. Desire comes when there’s something we don’t have, and in a sense, it’s an imperfection. It indicates a limitation, for if we could acquire it, we would. What, then, could a perfect god want? Perfection lacks nothing, therefore it wants nothing.
In the Westminster Shorter Catechism, the answer to why God created anything at all is simple: God created the human race for it to worship him. The first question of the Catechism deals with this: What is the chief end of man? To glorify and enjoy God forever. This is perhaps the stupidest reason an omnipotent being could have for creating anything. What joy could the most powerful being in the universe derive from having weak, frail, flawed humans worship it? It hints that God was so insecure that he had to create a whole universe with himself at the center just to feel complete. The Christian scriptures hint at this. God demands to be the total center of attention, proclaiming that he is a jealous God.
Some might respond, “You can only take this view if you see worship as a chore, as an unpleasant duty. I see it as a way of thanking God for creating me.” I will only point out two things to that: First, I never asked God to create anything. Second, I was created when a my father’s sperm cell penetrated a healthy egg in my mother’s womb. My creation was a fact of biology, not divinity.
In short, there is no logical reason for the Christian god to create anything. Any motive implies a lack or an imperfection of some sort.
Symbols and Symbolism in Communion
Key to all religions is ritual. It provides a framework for physical behaviors and expectations in everything from daily life to special religious ceremonies. It provides a sense of unity within the worshipers and the uniformity of action often lends itself to the solemnity of most religious ceremonies. Christianity is certainly not without its share of ritual, especially in the Catholic Church. One ritual which all Christian denominations have in common is that of the Eucharist, or the Sacrament of Communion (also known less formally as the Lord’s Supper).
Jesus instituted this ritual during the last meal he had with his disciples before being taken away for execution. The story is found in Matthew 26.26–29, Mark 14.22–28, Luke 22.19, 20, and John 13 (though a slightly different version). While they are eating, Jesus takes bread and says that it is his body and in order to have eternal life, one must eat it. It is a memorial for him: “Do this in remembrance,” he tells them. The second part of the Eucharist is the wine, which Jesus says represents his blood given for their sins. (Some sects include the foot-washing ceremony found in John, but it is not part of the traditional Christian ritual.)
Today, Christians take part in the Eucharist with varying frequency: some only once a year, others every day. It is the primary Christian ritual, representing Christ’s union with the individual taking communion and with humanity in general. For many people it provides a profound sense of peace and reassurance. I personally find it disgusting.
The reason for my strong reaction is simple: What is being symbolized is an act of cannibalism. Christ tells people to eat bread which represents his body and to drink wine which represents his blood. In other words, he wants Christians to have a ceremony of ritual cannibalism. What is being symbolized is the taking into one’s whole being the very essence of Christ. Indeed, the Catholic church contends that when the bread and wine enter one’s body, it becomes the actual blood and body of Jesus. It is more than symbolic for them — it is literal.
Many Christians hold that since it is symbolism, what is more important is what is being symbolized, not the instruments of the symbolism. The German theologian Paul Tillich argues that symbols, unlike signs, go beyond the instruments of symbolism and the very thing being symbolized and point to an understanding unachievable through non-symbolic means. He points out how music and the visual arts express things which cannot be conveyed in any other way. I cannot really contend with this, because it makes the symbolism of Communion completely person, as well it should be. I am simply stating that I find the symbolism far too disturbing to incorporate it into my life.
Tillich also contends that people do not consciously choose symbols. Yet the fact that Jesus made a conscious, specific command concerning the Sacrament of Communion certainly indicates a conscious decision. Of course newly converted Christians do not make a conscious choice concerning this particular ritual and symbol as much as they choose the whole religion itself.
In the end, the validity of Eucharist depends on the same thing as the validity of religion itself: personal experience. As one who has never seen anything in the Lord’s Supper other than a disturbing ritual of cannibalism, I feel nothing but revulsion for it.
Prayer
A 1997 Newsweek poll found that twenty-nine percent of Americans pray more than once a day, and fifty-four percent pray at least once a day (31 March 1997). Eighty-two percent reported that they don’t turn away from God when prayers go unanswered. Certainly Christian leaders would be proud of this. However, prayer is a very troubling aspect of Christianity, and as with many other facets of this religion, a close examination of the implications of prayer has dire implications for the nature of the Christian god.
Some years ago I had a long and intense conversation with a man about religion in general, Christianity in particular. I had quit praying but I still considered myself a Christian. There were many aspects of Christianity which disturbed me, but I was still a long way from proclaiming myself a non-believer. As this man described his need to pray, I was amazed. He was using the same words and ideas that I once used to describe my need to write in my journal. “It is only when I pray that I can begin to get things straight in my mind. I offer something up in prayer and I understand it better. It’s like straightening out a crooked bit of twine.” Just as I need to write in my journal to get the day’s events straight in my mind, he needs to pray.
What do prayer and a journal have in common? Honestly written or uttered, both provide deep introspection. They are sorts of meditation, a way of looking at your life honestly and determining where your shortcomings are. You have to think about what is going on in your live before you can pray or write in a journal. Both also have a cathartic effect, as they allow you to get your thoughts, fears, and apprehensions into the open, so to speak. Whether or not anyone hears the prayer or reads the journal is irrelevant. The important thing is to get the things out. “‘We go to God with dirty hands and ambiguous motives,’ observes theologian [Ronald] Goetz. But with repetition, elementary prayer can develop into more refined, less self-centered habits” (Newsweek, 31 March 1997, 50). So from a secular point of view, prayer might even be seen as useful (though I would argue that a journal is more useful). However, from a theological point of view, prayer, especially prayers of petition, starts to raise serious problems.
Carl Sagan pointed out the simple irony of prayers of petition. They indicate that either God doesn’t know about a particular concern (and therefore is not omnipotent), or he won’t do anything until someone asks him to (and therefore is not completely beneficent). Yet there is Biblical backing for such prayers. “If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer” (Matthew 21.22). This renders god as something of a cosmic vending machine.
Some feel that in times of utter distress, God even gives people the very words they pray. This echoes Romans 8.26: “We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.” This means simply that God is praying to himself.
Anointing
On his website, televangelist Rob Parsley provides an attractive offer: send in any piece of cloth and he and his church members will pray over it, “super-saturating it with God’s anointing,” and then send it back to you. Apparently, you can receive a physical transference of God’s holy, healing power through this anointed cloth.
The idea of anointing — the “laying-on of hands” — is something of a staple theological idea in the more fundamentalist denominations. Yet what does this accomplish? It’s curious, because God’s blessing and healing is supposed to be a supernatural thing, yet anointing is a very physical activity. Does God need a conduit to channel his holy energy?
An added curiosity is that in some denominations, not just anyone could anoint. It had to be someone with the proper ministerial credentials. Can God not work with those the upper echelons hadn’t raised to a position of authority? Did God ever start to use someone as a conduit only to discover, “Oh, wait — I can’t go through this guy. He must not be ordained!”
The idea of an anointed cloth, a la Parsley, is even more ludicrous. The power of God is a virus that can infect a cloth, use that cloth as a host until it gets to the intended anointed, and then spring forth and work its wonders? What about all those who touch it in the meantime? Do they get a bit of it? If enough people touch it, does its magical power all get used up? Or is it somehow encrypted, only to be released when the intended person receives it and prays about it?
Original Sin
One of the most puzzling doctrines of Christianity is that of Original Sin, and it raises several questions about both the logical and justice of Christianity, not to mention the omnipotence and benevolence of the Christian god.
Simply stated, the idea of Original Sin is that because Adam and Eve sinned by eating of the Tree of Knowledge (interesting that God commanded them to stay ignorant), they plunged the whole human race into a state of sinfulness. Recall that Matthew Henry wrote that “in a graceless soul, [. . . ] is empty of all good, for it is without God; [. . . and] this is our condition by nature, till Almighty grace works a change in us.” How could this have come about, though? By what mechanism could Original Sin enter the entire human race?
What exactly did Adam and Eve do? Two things: a physical act, and more seriously, a psychological act. [30] They physical act, of course, was eating the fruit, whatever that might have been. The psychological act was going against the will of God — disobeying, in other words. Yet for something to affect the entire human race, it would have to be passed on genetically. How could either eating a piece of fruit or disobeying a command naturally affect a human’s genetic makeup? Of course, it can’t affect us at all naturally, but we’re dealing also with a supernatural element in the story of the Fall and Original Sin, so perhaps God somehow altered Adam and Eve’s genetic composition to pass on an Original Sin gene.
Yet this is starting to get ridiculous. “Sin” is a psychological and even spiritual condition. Despite various notions of “physical sin” and other twists, sin is not physical but spiritual and psychological. How then could it be passed on genetically? Obviously it couldn’t.
We are left with the unsettling conclusion that perhaps Original Sin doesn’t really affect us as much as it affects how God views us. Original Sin is a condition we’re placed in by God, thanks to Adam and Eve’s rebellion. Perhaps it could be explained by saying that God withdrew himself from Adam and Eve after the Fall, making it impossible for them to have access to the godliness they needed to live a life free from Original Sin, and that that gap is what Jesus’ sacrifice was intended to overcome. That doesn’t solve a single problem, though, for it puts us right back in the same position discussed earlier: why would an omnipotent, loving God choose this method when it necessarily entails the damnation and suffering of millions? As with many aspects of Christian theology, the notion of Original Sin does more to undermine the image of the Christian god than anything else.
There is no logical reason, even if we assume that there was a historical Adam and Eve, that their “fall” would doom the whole human race. It was not a natural consequence, as having lived near Chernobyl would produce the natural consequence of altered genes thanks to nuclear contamination or, even more simply, falling off a building would provide the natural consequence of broken bones and internal bleeding. And if it was not a natural consequence, it had to have been a supernatural consequence — resulting in the pain and suffering of billions.
And lastly, it is a direct contradiction of several scriptures. [31]
The Fruits of Christianity
Lest anyone think I feel the Bible is filled with only flaws and errors, I will admit that there is a certain amount of wisdom in it. and in fact a passage from the gospels serves as a good introduction for this section.
By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thorn bushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them. (Matthew 7.16–20)
This is sound advice, amounting basically to, “If it’s flawed, get rid of it.” What does an examination of the fruits of Christianity reveal? Is it a “good tree” or one that deserves to be “cut down and thrown into the fire?” It should come as no surprise at this point that my view is most certainly the latter.
The Evils Done in God’s Name
The evils committed by the Church and individuals in the name of Jesus are simply appalling. Whether they be sins of commission and omission, the list of evils of the church and Christians is appalling.
Granted, in the early centuries of Christianity it was the Christians who were persecuted, tortured, and executed in the most horrendous ways. That fact combined with the generally pacifist teachings of Jesus should have ensured that the Christians themselves never behaved in a similar manner. Quite the opposite seems to be true. Once Christians became the majority, they began persecuting those who were the minority. The Crusades, the Inquisition (which, it might be added, still exists but under a different name), the wars of religion in the Middle Ages, the long history of persecution of Jews — all these are examples of Christians killing others because they were not Christians. In contemporary times we only have to look at the Balkans to see the evils that can be done in God’s name. Lest anyone try to argue that these sins were not committed by Christians but by Catholics and Orthodox Christians [32], one only need look at what happened in Geneva when Calvin took over and “converted” the city to Protestantism to see the silliness of that argument. In contemporary times we have a nice example in the behavior of southern Christians during the time of segregation who were able to marshal up all sorts of “Biblical” arguments to support their racist ideas. And of course this was all because of that most Christian of institutions, slavery.
Equally we have the sins of omission, most notably the silence of the Catholic Church during the Holocaust. This only stands to reason since the Catholic Church has historically persecuted Jews.
The evils of Christianity are not restricted to such large-scale examples, but in fact are more plentiful when we look at micro level and the harm Christian leaders have done to their followers. Jim Jones, David Koresh, Herbert Armstrong, and Benny Hinn come immediately to my mind as individuals who, to varying degrees, wrecked vast harm on those who followed (or in the case of Hinn, still follow) them as they claimed to follow Jesus. [33] Those who followed Jones and Koresh all died; many of those who followed Armstrong died [34]; those who follow Hinn trade their money for false hope in his faith healing.
I am not saying, “I’m not a Christian because of the behavior of Christians from the Middle Ages or contemporary believers.” Nor am I suggesting that this alone is reason to condemn Christianity. I am merely pointing out that this is something that causes me to be skeptical about the validity of Christianity. [35]
The Effects of Christianity on the Person
Christianity, Self-Confidence, and Self-Worth
The back cover summary for Robert McGee’s book The Search for Significance provides an excellent example of the unhealthy view Christianity promotes. It reads, “We can build our self-worth on our ability to please others, or on the love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ.” When I read that, I was astounded that no one at Word Publishing saw the glaring contradiction in that sentence. “Self-worth” can’t come from anywhere but “self.” That’s why it’s called “self-worth.” A rudimentary observation that would make sense to most third-graders. A true sense of self-worth cannot come from anyone, even God, for it to be self-worth, and a feeling that we are valuable as individuals that comes from an external locus (whether it be from God, or from pleasing others) is not a dysfunctional self-worth at best.
Yet “self” is one of the most denigrated notion in Christian thought. This “self” is equated with “selfishness” in Christianity, and as such is rightly condemned. But there is a healthy sense of self worth and there are times when we do indeed need to put ourselves first for our own psychological safety. All too often, though, this distinction is not made in Christianity, and instead a sense of self-martyrdom pervades Christian teaching. [36]
Guilt
Christianity also produces guilt-ridden people. In Christian thought, humans, because of Original Sin and other nonsense, are supposed to be worms. A favorite theme of Christian ministers is how pathetically unworthy we are of God, and yet Jesus died for us anyway. They almost guilt-trip their congregations into renewing their Christian vows. “Jesus did all this for you! The least you can do is to accept him as your Savior.” [37] It never seems to occur to anyone to say what we might very well say to another person in a similar situation: “I never asked him to do that, and I feel no obligation to him because he did this for me.”
This highlights one of the strangest dichotomies in Christian thought. “We are worthless pieces of dung,” you might hear one Sunday, then at another church the next week you might encounter something like, “You are not worthless, because God created you and died for you.” We can’t have it both ways. Either humans are inherently worthless or inherently valuable.
The Material and Cultural Affects of Christianity
Believer’s personal lives are not the only thing affected by Christianity. Like the butterfly in Kansas who’s fluttering wings set off a chain of events eventually ending in a typhoon in the Pacific, individual and group actions of Christians have effects that reach far beyond their own worlds.
Historically, Christianity has been instrumental in maintaining a class of individuals in society who are destitute. It does this by diverts resources (both fiscal and otherwise) from the needy to church buildings, ministerial salaries, etc. One only need look at the great cathedrals of Chartres and Notre Dame to confirm that historically. The amount of time, energy, material resources, and money necessary to create such an admittedly impressive building is shocking. The wealth of the Vatican (both historically and today) is scandalous. And the standard of living of the average television evangelist is appalling. Were all these resources devoted to the goal of destroying poverty and malnutrition worldwide, these problems would disappear in a matter of months.
In other words, Christianity helps keep the status quo. It teaches destitute people to be happy with their lot in life and not look with longing at the minority of people in the world who control the majority of the world’s resources. As Malcolm X explained it (though I am framing it in less racially specific terms), it teaches the oppressed majority to accept their fate and look for their “pie in the sky” while the oppressive minority have their pie on earth. Or, as Marx explained it, it is an opiate, soothing people’s sense of injustice and making them accept it as inevitable.
When Christians do decide to do something about the poverty that surrounds them, they often (though not always) do it with certain strings attached. First you must listen to the gospel being explained, then they will help you. I am, of course, referring primarily here to missionaries, which present more problems than just conditional help. In the process of converting indigenous people to Christianity they often destroy the local culture (at least partially) and impose Western values and norms.
The last cultural affect of Christianity I will cover is its tendency to set itself against all other religions as the one true way. This makes conflict inevitable, and it is not helped by the fact that different worldviews are often looked at as pathetic, laughable, or even evil. In contemporary American society it’s easy to find examples of this since the attacks of September the eleventh. The amount of anti-Muslim bigotry promoted by Christianity is simply appalling. It has reached the point that the terrorists’ actions are explained not by being extremists or Islamic fundamentalists, but simply by being Islamic. [38]
How I Explain Christianity
Obviously if I were willing to attribute Christians’ behavior and beliefs to something divine, I would myself be a believer. It should be clear by this point that I most definitely do not attribute any of these things to a “movement of the Holy Spirit,” to choose a Christian formulation at random. How then do I explain it? If going to church does not provide an outpouring of God’s spirit to the believers, why do they go to church? What does Christianity provide if it doesn’t provide access to God?
One of the most basic things it provides is a community of affirmation. Believers gather together and provide support for each others’ worldviews. They essentially are saying to each other, though not in so many words, “I believe what you believe!” It is a place where people can receive positive affirmation instead of the indifference or even hostility they might encounter “in the world.” In other words, it allows people to give each other psychological hugs and pats on the back.
Even more basic, though, is the sense of purpose it provides life. “I am not my own — I am Jesus’” is a common thing one hears in Christian testimonials. That could be roughly translated to, “I live for Jesus,” or “Jesus provides the meaning of my life.” I highly doubt any Christian would say that that is a bad thing (indeed, it’s the ultimate goal of most Christians, to “give themselves over to the Lord” completely [39]). Even if Christianity is a complete illusion, that doesn’t stop it from providing believers with a sense of purpose and destiny.
Christianity also appeals to people’s insecurities. Humans are a frail lot, and as a result of abuse, neglect, or just the general, apparent bad-ness of the world, most people arrive at adulthood with a significant amount of (to use a pop psychology term) “emotional baggage” such as guilt, a lack of self-confidence, a sense of unworthiness of anything good, and so on. Christianity preys on this, for it provides one simple solution to all these unhealthy views: “Yes, you are unworthy, but Jesus died for you anyway, and so you are worthy though that.”
If one is a second-generation Christian (i.e., raised in a Christian home from childhood), a significant portion of one’s Christian identity comes simply from being raised in a Christian environment. [40] In other words, people are often Christians because their parents are Christians. It’s not often that we hear stories of little girls raised in Christian homes saying, at the age of nine, “Mom, Dad, I know you’re Christian, but I’m finding myself increasingly drawn toward Buddhism.” In fact, the average nine-year-old wouldn’t even have the slightest idea that such a thing as “Buddhism” exists. As far as she’s concerned, the whole world believes as she believes. After all, her “blue” is the same as everyone’s “blue,” so why wouldn’t her god be the same as everyone else’s god? [41]
One of the most often-cited “sources” of Christianity (and indeed, religion in general) is the notion that it provides comfort “in the face of death.” That comfort, though, seems to fail when someone dies unexpectedly. A long, lingering illness gives family and friends time to prepare for the eventualities, but a sudden, unexpected death exposes this comfort for what it really is — a fraud. One only need go to the funeral of an nineteen-year-old boy killed in a farming accident to see that. With many people crying and most everyone walking around in a daze, an inescapable thought emerges: “They don’t really believe this guy’s in heaven. They hope; they pray; but there’s some doubt deep within them saying, ‘This is fake, and you know it.’ Otherwise they’d be celebrating this poor boy’s ‘unexpected fortune’ of being taken to heaven at such a young age.”
What I Live For
“Where do you find meaning in life?” one woman asked me on a subway train in Boston. She had seen me reading Freud’s The Future of an Illusion and was duly witnessing to me. It is of course a legitimate question. For her to imagine life without a god would probably be analogous to imagining life without oxygen.
Many Christians argue that without a god in your worldview, you ultimately have no reason to live. To some degree this is true, but the wording is off: without a god in your worldview, you ultimately have no given reason to live, with the keyword being “given.” Instead of relying on some external entity or idea to provide a reason to live, I decide ultimately what my reason to live is. This is the existential response to nihilism: there is no reason to live, it’s true, but we can make a reason to live. We can find for ourselves a reason to live.
“What about when you die? What will happen then?” my subway missionary asked me. “I’ve no idea,” I responded, “And quite frankly, I don’t care. It’s out of my control.” One might argue that it is in my control. “If you accept Jesus, it is in your control. And you’ll go to heaven.” That, of course, assumes that Christianity is right and not Islam. If Islam is right and I’m a Christian, I won’t be in paradise when I die. Likewise if Judaism is the one true way and I’ve committed the heresy of accepting a false prophet as the Messiah.
“Well then, if you’re not a Christian, how do you explain creation?” the conversation continued. Simple: I don’t. The origins of life don’t affect me at all. My personal value does not come from being created by a god, nor does the possibility that humanity evolved from lower creatures affect my self-worth. [42]
Appendix: Am I an Atheist?
An issue I’ve been somewhat avoiding throughout this essay has been the existence of God. I have been careful to limit my critique to the god presented in Christian scripture and theology, but it would be useful to explain what I do believe (or don’t) regarding the existence of any kind of supernatural being.
Agnosticism and Atheism
I am an atheist, but not without some qualification.
“Atheist” comes from two Greek bases: Theo means of course anything to do with God, as in theology or theist, and the prefix a means “without.” As an atheist, I am without a belief in God. Many people confuse this lack of belief with a positive belief that God does not exist. While some atheists insist that there is no God (strong atheism), I simply don’t believe there’s a God (weak atheism). To show how this is different, I point out that while I will not say, “There is a God!” I also will not say, “There is no God!”
I could, however, just as easily call myself an agnostic. The manner in which I use the term “atheist” is almost identical to the way most people conceive of “agnostic.” The term comes from the Greek word transliterated “gnosis,” which means knowledge. Aldous Huxley coined the term as a play on the early Christian movement known as Gnosticism, which claimed to have special knowledge that alone would lead to an individual’s salvation. Huxley, in adding the negating “a” prefix, was suggesting that knowledge about a god’s existence would, necessarily, be special knowledge. Since he was personally without that knowledge, he coined the term “agnostic,” or “without knowledge,” if you will. Atheism, then, refers to a lack of belief while agnosticism refers to a lack of knowledge. Atheism then necessarily contains agnosticism, and is the next logical step. [43]
The problem I have with any form of theism is that it relies too heavily on improvable assertions. Many people base their beliefs on personal feelings, and many people are theists and/or Christians because of personal and emotional encounters with something they have chosen to label “God.” Lacking any such experience, I am forced to base any belief I might have on things which are logical and provable. Of course this leaves no room for faith, the staple of Christian thought. However, for whatever reasons, I cannot nurture the faith (which I see as blind faith) required by theism. Søren Kierkegaard and others speak of theistic existentialism and how an absurd leap of faith is the only path open to man in this world of overwhelming nihilism, but I counter that by saying that I want my life grounded in what is likely and plausible, not taking the chance implied in a leap of faith.
Some argue that faith is in all aspects of our lives, that we cannot escape having some kind of faith, and that atheism requires a certain kind of faith just as theism does. For example, when I drive a car and I apply pressure to the brake pedal, I have faith that the car will slow down. This kind of “faith” is drastically different from religious faith. I have faith that my brakes will work because they have done so countless times before. Furthermore, I can take my car apart and show how the brake works (assuming I know enough about auto mechanics, which I don’t). I can explain the steps in the process which leads to an application of brakes and a decrease of the car’s velocity. The same cannot be said of religious faith. I cannot take apart someone’s Christian faith, lay all the parts on the floor and give a lecture about how they all interact. In short, the kind of “faith” exhibited by the use of a car’s brakess is mechanical, physical faith, and is not really faith but more an assumption that things will continue working as they have in the past. The sort of faith illustrated by a Christian is metaphysical and cannot be discussed in any concrete way.
As for the assertion that atheism requires faith, I will acknowledge that certain, dogmatic forms of strong atheism might take a certain kind of faith. When someone jumps up and down screaming, “There is no God! There is no God!” I see that as a certain act of faith. It is a faith in the atheist’s own reasoning abilities, though, not in some outside force. Still, I suppose all faith is at its core a faith in oneself, a belief that one’s beliefs are right. I must point out again that I am not a strong atheist. Weak atheism — skepticism, if you will — requires no faith because it makes no positive claims. I do not claim there is a God; I do not claim there isn’t a God.
Natural Theology
The existence of a God would be detectable in some way. Some will say that the world itself is evidence of God’s existence. Indeed, Saint Thomas Aquinas made an argument for God’s existence based on the evidence of creation. However, the fact that the world exists is not proof that God exists. It might be an indication of some kind of intelligent force, but it is not proof. As I am not a strong atheist, I am open to the idea that some kind of force such as this might exist, but I do not believe it does.
There has historically been an effort to describe God based exclusively on the natural world. “What does the world show us about God?” is the question natural theology asks.
Let us begin a syllogism with “God exists.” So what? What do we follow that with? My objection to theism is simple: Even if we do allow that God exists, none of the attributes commonly associated with God (omniscience, omnipotence, and perfect beneficence) necessarily follow that statement. In other words, if God exists it doesn’t follow that said God created the universe; that he is omnipotent; that he is omniscient; that he is benevolent. In other words, the statement “God exists” is virtually a dead end. We cannot prove that God exists, and even if we say he does for the sake of argument, we have nowhere to go from there because we cannot prove anything else about God.
There is nothing in the realm of our everyday experience to show us that the Christian god is omnipotent, benevolent, or omniscient. We can deduce that this hypothetical god is more powerful than humans, because the world he created (again, this is a hypothetical argument) is more complicated than most things humans have created, and certainly much more vast in scale. It doesn’t logically follow, though, that this god need be omnipotent. Similarly, we can see from the world around us that this hypothetical god is more intelligent than humans, but again, omniscience doesn’t necessarily follow. Believers, after accepting that God does exist, certainly hope that he is all these things, but there is nothing within the notion of God (that is, a being more powerful than humans) which dictates that such a being must be omnipotent, omniscient, and benevolent. [44]
The idea that God must be all knowing, all powerful, and good is not even universal in the history of religion. The first gods man fashioned were far from benevolent as they demanded sacrifices of all sorts and rained destruction upon them in the form of natural disasters. Later formulations of the idea of “god” were scarcely better. Certainly, the Greeks and Romans didn’t hold that the notion of “god” necessarily included all these qualities, for some of their gods were good and some were evil, and even the good fellows were prone to committing less than noble actions in moments of passion. The god of the Old Testament has always been shown to be barbarically cruel to peoples other than the Israelites (and even to Israelites).
My atheism is directed more toward Christianity and the god represented in the theology and assertions of Christian doctrine and scripture. This is only logical, for I was raised a Christian and I attended a Christian college. It is the religion to which I have been most exposed and with which I am most familiar.
The Problem of Evil
The single greatest argument against the existence of the Christian god is commonly known as the problem of evil, also known as the problem of pain. In short, it can be formulated very succinctly in the cliché, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” That trite sentence, though, softens the impact of this enormous argument against the Christian god.
The most damning aspect of the problem of evil comes when we consider the evil done to innocent children. [45] Children are born with AIDS, beaten their whole lives, starved to death, killed in wars, famines, and senseless accidents. Children were executed by the thousands under the Nazi regime, and hacked to death with machetes by the hundreds in Rwanda. Children are taken and raped, tortured, and brutally slain daily. Girls age twelve and younger are sold as prostitutes in southern Asia, and beaten or murdered if they complain or try to escape. The list, of course, is endless.
And according to Christian doctrine, there is a reason God allows all this. Adults’ suffering can arguably (though it’s a weak argument) be used to make people stronger. “That which does not kill me makes me stronger,” the cliché goes. Yet what of children not old enough to understand why they’re suffering? What sense does that make? It makes none.
The problem of evil reduces down to this: why does an omniscient, omnipotent, completely benevolent god allow such things to happen? If this god is omniscient, he must know something about this suffering, so we can’t say, “He doesn’t know what’s going on.” If he’s omnipotent, he must be able to do something about it. If he’s benevolent, he must want to do something about it. But the clear and obvious fact is that he doesn’t do anything about it, so either this god is not completely powerful, not completely knowing, or not completely good.
There is another way out, though it’s more of a cop-out: “God’s ways are not our ways.” This is the common refrain Christians fall back on when confronted with the absurd suffering evident in the world. That’s hardly comfort for a small child who can’t even speak and identify herself as this or that ethnic group yet is still being hacked to death because of the ethnic group she was born into. “These children will have justice in the next life,” they might continue. But as Ivan in Dostoyevky’s Brothers Karamazov said, we must have justice now.
Last modified on Saturday 28 December 2024
In Bertrand’s Footsteps
© 2024 Gary Scott
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