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Review: The End of White Christian America

Tuesday 25 April 2023

Evangelical Christianity as the dominant political force in America is dying from a self-inflicted wound. To suggest that Christianity in America is not waning is to ignore the obvious. But just in case, there are data to back it up:

Robert Jones’s book looks at the decline of white Christian America (which he shortens to WCA) through a couple of lenses, but most significantly, the decline of WCA is due to its stance on homosexuality:

Today, many white Christian Americans feel profoundly anxious. As is common among extended families, WCA’s two primary branches, white mainline and white evangelical Protestants, have competing narratives about WCA’s decline. White mainline Protestants blame evangelical Protestants for turning off the younger generation with their antigay rhetoric and tendency to conflate Christianity with conservative, nationalistic politics. White evangelical Protestants, on the other hand, blame mainline Protestants for undermining Christianity because of their willingness to sell out traditional beliefs to accommodate contemporary culture.

Traditional Protestantism and more progressive Protestantism are both point their finger at the other, but the dilemma is real:

Moreover, more than seven in ten (72 percent) Millennials agree that religious groups are estranging young people by being too judgmental about gay and lesbian issues. Seniors are the only age group among whom less than a majority (44 percent) agree. The dilemma for many churches is this: they are anchored, both financially and in terms of lay support, by older Americans, who are less likely to perceive a problem that the overwhelming majority of younger Americans say is there.

As a skeptic, I can’t help but find hope in this.

Leaving the Faith

Wednesday 5 April 2023

The post stood out immediately: I can relate, and so can K. Granted, I hadn’t been attending Mass as long as the gentleman in question, but I could see myself in the post:

“I am very lost & confused as to where all of this came from,” she admits, and I find myself wondering how this came about. Perhaps the husband had been on this long road of deconversion for years and simply kept it to himself because he didn’t want his wife to worry. Perhaps as the issues piled up in his head he was in some sort of denial. Perhaps he dropped hints, unsure how to begin the conversation outright, and she just didn’t pick up on them because they were so incongruous with everything she knew about him or because he, inexperienced with dropping such hints, was unable to do so in a sufficiently clear way. (That’s the double problem with dropping hints.) Whatever the case, from her perspective, it’s coming out of nowhere.

In responding to this, some people shared that they can relate. But at least a couple had me wondering if effective communication was actually taking place. One response declared that her son had become “a socialist.”

Perhaps he does not align with a socialist political position, but knowing conservatives of the 2020s, it could simply be that he’s now aligned himself with the Democratic party and the mother, true to Fox News talking points, simply labels him a socialist.

To that response, someone commiserated that “it’s absolutely awful what this world is doing today,” to which the original commenter replied that “it is getting scary.” She suggests it’s “this world,” which is American Christian-ese “the Satan-influenced, Satan-worshiping society we live in,” which in turn is simply the non-Christian segment of the population. And it’s getting “scary” because more and more people are realizing that they don’t need Christianity in their lives: church attendance is plummeting, especially among those under 40. These two ladies see the issue in terms of society as a whole, but they fail to understand the underlying causes, attributing it most likely to Satan’s growing influence.

Some, however, did see that it wasn’t simply a question of Satan’s supposed influence but also a question of the hypocrisy and judgmental nature of contemporary American Christianity:

This comment reveals what I see as one of the primary causes of declining church attendance: the church is continually creating situations that amount to self-inflicted wounds.

Fundamentalist Christians insist that the Genesis account is accurate and that evolutionary theory is a Satanic lie. Then their children learn about the mountain of evidence supporting evolution and they’re forced to choose between the faith of their parents or, as they see it, reality.

Fundamentalist Christians insist that homosexuality has no place in a Christian worldview. Then their children meet queer people and realize, “Hey, they’re not the devils they’re made out to be,” and another church teaching falls to the side.

Fundamentalist Christians remove from their fellowship individuals who choose not to live according to fundamentalist interpretations of sexual morality, and their children find out their soccer coach has been fired, despite parents’ and players’ begging, mid-season because she got pregnant out of wedlock. Then the players are crushed, and a handful of them start thinking, “If this is how Christians behave, I don’t think I need that in my life.”

These are just a handful of the ways modern Christianity is sabotaging itself. Perhaps something like this went on with these commenters’ children.

Others tried to fix the problem.

What happens when prayer doesn’t work, though? What happens when these people are still not returning to church? These poor folks then have a second layer of doubt: why isn’t God helping my child save herself? What am I doing wrong that is preventing this prayer from being answered?

As an aside, the metaphor of prayer as “storming heaven” is always a little strange for me. “Storming” is always used in the sense of an assault — storming the beaches of Normandy. Soldiers storm a position because it’s held by the enemy. In this case, “storming heaven” has connotations of viewing God as an enemy. I’m certain this is not what they intend, but I’m equally certain they’ve never really thought about the metaphor. It just sounds like strong, intense praying — praying really hard.

Some people just passively-aggressively blamed the believers: it’s your fault. You’re not trying hard enough. You’re not holy enough.

This could not possibly be helpful. Such a response only increases the sense of overwhelming guilt these people must feel. As with the “storming heaven” metaphor, this commenter probably didn’t even think this comment out.

Finally, there was the Catholic sense of magical thinking on full display:

The Catholic reliance on relics and holy objects fascinates me. What would this scapular actually do? How would it affect things? And since this husband would be unaware that it’s there, would that amount to God acting against this guy’s will, thus negating the cherished notion of free will, a staple among Christians for explaining how evil exists on earth given the existence of an all-knowing, all-powerful, completely-benevolent god?

I can’t really blame them for their thinking, though: there are certain lines a Christian cannot cross, and “he might have had perfectly good reasons for leaving Christianity, and he might have done so in good faith” is one of them. In such a case, if he found a reason to leave, perhaps I could as well — and that’s unthinkable.

No matter the reason he’d give, though, it wouldn’t be good enough for them.

Spring Monday

Monday 3 April 2023

The Boy and I have been listening to Josh Clark’s The End of the World podcast, and it opens with a discussion of the Fermi Paradox, which the Boy tried to explain to his friend on the way to the pool this evening.

“See, the universe is millions of years old and…” he began when his friend cut him off: “No, it’s only a few thousand years old.”

“No,” argued the Boy. “It’s millions of years old.”

“No!” his friend insisted. “It’s only a few thousand years old. It’s in the Bible.”

At this point, I intervened: “Boys, stop arguing — talk about something else.”

On the way home, after dropping off his friend, I explained to the Boy what had happened, giving him a primer on young Earth creationism.

“But it’s science!” he insisted incredulously. “There’s evidence.”

“But they don’t accept that evidence,” I explained, and he had a hard time understanding how someone doesn’t accept evidence. I do too, truth be told. “It’s just not worth arguing about because you won’t change anyone’s mind who thinks that way.”

I went ahead and corrected his numbers while I was at it: “The Earth is, in fact, about 4.5 billion years old, and the universe is somewhere in the area of 13 billion years old — much older than the couple million years you were insisting upon. I didn’t correct you then because that would have meant correcting your friend, and I’m not sure how his parents would react to that.”

My parents were young Earthers, too (at least for a while), but I’m not sure how they would have reacted to me coming home and announcing that one of my friend’s father said indirectly that I was wrong and that the Earth is in fact much older than what they taught me. I don’t imagine they would have prevented me from seeing the kid again, but if it had happened again, they might have. And certainly, very fundamentalist Christians would likely make such a move, and the Boy’s relationship with his friend is much more valuable to me than what he’s been taught about the universe.

The Boy, then, experienced something like what I experience regularly: that sense when among more literalist Christians that we view the world in a completely different way.

An Apologist’s Response

Wednesday 8 March 2023

While discussing the difference between the Old Testament god and the vision of the Christian god we see in Jesus, a social media commenter suggested I read Dr. Jeff Mirus’s “Making Sense of the Old Testament God” in which he attempts to “make God’s ways under the Old Covenant easier to understand” as a reader had requested. He concludes his introduction by admitting that he “can only do [his] best,” which seems to be a tacit admission that there really is no way definitively to reconcile these two visions of the Christian god and that it’s a matter of faith.

Mirus begins by suggesting that there’s not such a disparity between the seemingly harsh god of the OT and the loving god of the NT. There are two ways he does this. First, he argues that there are many passages in the OT that show a deity in line with what we see from Jesus. Fair enough. But he then suggests that Jesus had a harsh streak himself: Jesus’s “denouncing hard-hearted Jewish leaders, lamenting those who lead others into sin, rebuking the wealthy, condemning hypocrites, and foretelling disaster for unbelieving communities” were harsh elements of “Our Lord’s effort to wake us up.” He then quotes Matthew 11:21-24 in which Jesus does a lot of “Woe to you”-ing. Yet there is a big difference between genocide and harsh words. There is a chasm between rebuking someone and stoning them. This is like saying Truman was as harsh as Stalin because he yelled at people.

As the article develops, so does the offensive weirdness of Mirus’s logic. Regarding the harsh nature of the OT god’s commands to slaughter so many people, he suggests, “Finally, we must not forget the decisive separation of the sheep from the goats—those who will be sent into eternal fire.” He is literally saying that the acts of cruelty we see from the Christian god in the OT pale in comparison to hell. In other words, “Yes, our god was pretty cruel in those times, but just think about how cruel he’ll be toward you for eternity in hell!” There are elements of our god that are even more appalling than what we see in the OT, so this god is really actually good. This is another example of how Christians seem to suffer from Stockholm Syndrome: the very god that “saves” them is the being that creates the conditions from which they long to be saved!

Mirus then deals with a second “misconception [..] that the Old Testament authors thought of God’s will in exactly the same way as we do today.”

This gets at the tension between the obvious fact that humans wrote the Bible and yet Christians claim that their god inspired the Bible. Where does divine authorship/inspiration leave off and human creation begin? In saying that “the Old Testament author thought of God’s will” in any way that could be discernable in the text is to negate the divine authorship. Surely what the human authors thought would not interfere with the divinely giving knowledge of the reality of the situation. But this very idea that somehow the Biblical authors’ own ideas got inadvertently mixed in with the divine revelation gives apologists the room they need to excuse the OT god of any wrongdoing.

Mirus continues by asserting that many of the abuses in the Bible are not God’s responsibility: “It is easy to fall into the trap of believing that everything recounted in the Old Testament is the will of God.” He then relates the story of Jephthah, who made a vow to sacrifice the first thing that came out of his door if his god would grant him military victory. When Jephthah returns home, his daughter runs out to greet him, which necessitates him slaughtering her as a sacrifice to his god.

Mirus argues that this is all on Jephthah and that we cannot hold the OT god accountable for this. That might very well be a good point that solves this dilemma, but it does nothing for the seemingly-countless times this god does indeed command people to do awful things. It’s a softball pitch intended to make readers more confident in the Bible and Mirus’s argument.

In dealing with the OT god’s commands for genocide, he asks, “Is there a significant difference between reading what God has done to this or that person or this or that people in the Old Testament, either directly or indirectly, as compared with the manner in which He appoints our lives, including the circumstances and agencies through which we will die, and which He alone both knows and contains within His own Providential limits?” In other words, our god is in control of how we die anyway, so does it really make him such a monster to kill us in this manner or that manner? He is, after all, a god: he can do what he wants! He made us; he sustains us; it’s his choice.

First, imagine saying that about your own infant child: “Surely I can kill this child. I made her. I sustain her.” What wretched monster would think like that?

Second, apologists can use this line of reasoning to excuse any action they undertake, no matter how horrific

Are You Tolerant?

Wednesday 15 February 2023

While jogging this evening, I listened to a video by Prophet of Zod called “Do We Get Offended Because Christians Believe in Truth?” The entire video is below:

It’s a critique of another video, this one by Impact 360 Institute, a Christian apologetics organization. The original video is here:

It’s a ridiculous caricature of how non-believers view Christians, suggesting that non-Christians feel threatened and offended because Christians believe the things they believe, and these caricature atheists suggest in the name of tolerance that shouldn’t be tolerated. It’s as mind-numbingly stupid as it sounds.

However, there was a link to a set of questions designed to determine if one is tolerant or not. Intrigued, I went ahead and provided my email address (Gmail will sort out any of the spam the organization sends me as a result) and went through the questions.

Question 1: No one has the right to disagree with or criticize another person’s life choices.

The first question is a slow pitch that is based on the premises of the video: atheists are supposedly intolerant in the name of tolerance, and this first question is directed to that assumption. I don’t know of anyone who would agree with this.

Question 2: College students should be protected from hearing ideas they disagree with because that would make them uncomfortable.

There is a fairly robust effort, it seems, to shut out voices that college students seem to disagree with, but it seems to be from the students themselves and not from the institute. The passive construction of the statement (“students should be protected”) only suggests that it’s the college itself that’s doing the protecting. From what I’ve seen, it’s the students who raise a stink. Sometimes, granted, the college caves, but often they don’t.

Question 3: People should have the freedom to believe and publicly promote that two men or two women should be allowed to get married.

Notice the wording: it’s saying that people should be able to promote it. Christians will say they have no issues with people advocating it. When it comes to implementing it, though, they will, as we have seen time and time again, vociferously disagree and fight it in the courts. Which leads to the next statement:

Question 4: A wedding photographer should be forced to use her artistic talents to celebrate and memorialize a same-sex wedding even though it violates her conscience and deeply held religious beliefs.

This is such a loaded, biased question that it’s difficult to know where to start. First, we have the idea that the photographer “should be forced,” which makes it seem like a draconian, totalitarian state that’s behind it without coming out and saying it. It does this through the use of the passive voice. No one is suggesting that a photographer be forced to do this. If the photographer doesn’t want to do it, she doesn’t do it. It does mean, however, that can no longer be a photograph because they are denying their services in a discriminatory fashion. Some will say this is the same as forcing, but people have to do things in their jobs all the time that they don’t really want to do. It’s not, I suspect, that they don’t want to “celebrate and memorialize” a same-sex wedding; they’re homophobic and don’t want to witness this wedding. Fine — don’t. But you can’t withhold services because of that. We can frame this racially and see how bigoted it is: “A wedding photographer should be forced to use her artistic talents to celebrate and memorialize a [mixed-race] wedding even though it violates her conscience and deeply held religious beliefs.” Suddenly, it looks different — except that it doesn’t.

There’s also the word “celebrate.” The wedding photographer is not a guest. She’s not celebrating anything. She’s recording the event. That’s it. By doing so, she’s not approving or disapproving of it — she’s taking pictures. If she’s not willing to provide her services to anyone who wants to pay for them, she needs to find another line of work.

Question 5: No one should be compelled to embrace any religion against his will.

This is meant to help the individual (most likely a Christian since it is an apologetics site) feel good about their religious views: “We’re not interested in forcing our religion on others!” Except if you’re trying to outlaw (to use the previous example) same-sex marriage, you are attempting to force that particular tenant of your religion on everyone. You’re compelling everyone to follow that particular part of your religion.

Question 6: People should have the freedom to publicly promote their view based on science that unborn babies are genetically distinct, living, and whole human beings and that their human rights should be protected by not aborting them.

Talk about stacking the deck: their view is “based on science.” “We’re just basing our views on science — how can you argue with that?” Unless we bring up all the science they don’t like — evolutionary theory and global warming come to mind.

Question 7: Parents should have the freedom to believe, publicly promote, and teach their children that God designed marriage for a man and woman for a lifetime.

Now we’re back to same-sex marriage — isn’t that what it’s always about? Obviously, parents have the right to teach this, but implicit in this is the notion that they want to be able to support draconian laws to stop same-sex marriage. And that’s fine, I suppose: it wouldn’t be freedom if you couldn’t be free to be a bigot. (Yes, I am aware of the loaded language I just used.)

By the same token, they have to accept that some of us are fine with same-sex marriage and think it might even be — gasp! — a question of equal rights.

Question 8: Muslims should have the freedom to believe and publicly promote that Allah is the one true God and Muhammad is his prophet.

What an out-of-left-field question! I really have nothing to say about it.

Question 9: It’s not OK to respectfully challenge the truth of another person’s sincerely held beliefs.

Christians themselves don’t seem okay with this. “Why are you trying to push your atheism on us?!” they decry when all atheists have been doing is pushing back on centuries of the majority trying to stop them from “respectfully challenge[ing] the truth of another person’s sincerely held beliefs.”

Question 10: People of faith should not be forbidden to worship God according to their conscience or to express freely and publicly their deeply held religious convictions.

That depends, doesn’t it? What about snake handers? They claim that three verses in the Bible allow, even call for, the handling of snakes as evidence of faith:

Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you. (Luke 10:19)
And these signs shall follow them that believe: In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues. They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover. (Mark 16:17-18)
And when they were escaped, then they knew that the island was called Melita. And the barbarous people shewed us no little kindness: for they kindled a fire, and received us every one, because of the present rain, and because of the cold. And when Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks, and laid them on the fire, there came a viper out of the heat, and fastened on his hand. And when the barbarians saw the venomous beast hang on his hand, they said among themselves, No doubt this man is a murderer, whom, though he hath escaped the sea, yet vengeance suffereth not to live. And he shook off the beast into the fire, and felt no harm. Howbeit they looked when he should have swollen, or fallen down dead suddenly: but after they had looked a great while, and saw no harm come to him, they changed their minds, and said that he was a god. (Acts 28:1-6)

Yet several states have legislation on the books that forbids this. Isn’t that a restriction of their right “to worship God according to their conscience or to express freely and publicly their deeply held religious convictions”?

My Result

I answered as one might expect a left-leaning moderate atheist to answer. The response:

Congratulations, you are a truly tolerant person! In a culture that operates with a confused view of tolerance that thinks “real tolerance means agreeing that everyone’s moral, religious, or social viewpoints are equally valid and true,” you have rightly rejected this false tolerance because it’s unlivable. True tolerance respectfully allows others the right to be wrong because we disagree with them. The good news is you have strong beliefs about the way things should be. Continue to courageously and respectfully make your case and let the best ideas win. Is it messy? Yes. But true tolerance is the only way we will discover the truth about questions that matter.

Yet I’m sure in discussion, the makers of this “quiz” would determine that I am, in fact, not tolerant.

Fences and Guardrails

Thursday 19 January 2023

“God just puts these laws in place for our protection!” seems to be a common apologetic response to criticism of the laws of the Bible and the sense of absurdity some of them engender. There’s even a cartoon about it.

This is such a silly cartoon — it shows the absurdity of the argument better than apologists recognize. Most basically, the things that this god’s law supposedly protects us from were created by that god himself! He made all the universe, according to apologists. He created all the laws of physics. He created all the contingencies and consequences. In other words, to relate it back to the cartoon, he created the fence (“guardrail”) and the cliff. And he put the guardrail right at the edge of the cliff.

To turn it back to Christianity itself, this god created the laws and the consequences for breaking them (i.e., eternal damnation). If it were any other way, he would be dealing with something he didn’t create.

This also plays into the idea of Jesus’s salvific sacrifice. He’s saving us from the consequences of breaking some god’s laws. The trouble is, according to the doctrine of the trinity, he is that god! He’s saving us from himself.

No matter how many times I point this out to believers, they just don’t see it. They bring up free will and all that: “God created us with free will, and we can abuse it and reject God.”

“Yes, but this god put in place the laws and their consequences. He’s the one sending you to hell and then saving you from it,” I reply.

“Yes, but he loves us so much that he sacrificed himself for us, to pay our debt.”

“Our debt to him!” I want to scream.

If I am beating a child and then stop beating that child, I haven’t saved him any more than the mafia, when receiving payment, is not saving you from anyone other than themselves.

How do they not see this?

Definitions

Tuesday 17 January 2023

“I was just here a little while ago,” E lamented as we neared our parish church for basketball practice tonight.

“Why?” asked N, genuinely perplexed. N is a dear friend but not a member of the church.

“For religious education,” the Boy explained.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like school,” E said.

“What do you learn about?”

“Church.”

“That wasn’t a very informative answer,” N pressed.

“Well, we learn about,” the Boy pauesed for a moment before finishing, “well, it’s about everything church.”

“That still doesn’t tell me much,” N insisted.

“Well, today we learned about sacraments,” E clarified.

N thought for a moment before admitting, “I don’t know what that is at all.”

When I was N’s and E’s age, I, too, would have had no idea what a “sacrament” might be, and I certainly would have no idea what it’s supposed to do. According to the Catholic Church, sacraments are “outward signs of inward grace, instituted by Christ for our sanctification.” Even if someone told me that, I doubt I would have understood what any of that might mean.

Outward sign? Simple enough.

Inward grace? Not sure what “inward” means here, and even now as an adult, it’s not clear. I suppose it’s meant to be juxtaposed with “outward” to create an appealing bit of parallelism. But are we talking internal medicine “inward” or are we talking mental inward? Or are we talking spiritual? Of course, that doesn’t even exist, but if they meant “spiritual” why not say “spiritual” instead of “inward”?

I certainly wouldn’t know what “grace” means here. I would have known “grace” from a basic Christian idea of forgiveness, but beyond that, I’m lost. And what’s an “inward grace”? Are their other kinds of grace? What does the Catholic Encyclopedia say?

Grace (gratia, Charis), in general, a supernatural gift of God to intellectual creatures (men, angels) for their eternal salvation, whether the latter be furthered and attained through salutary acts or a state of holiness. Eternal salvation itself consists in heavenly bliss resulting from the intuitive knowledge of the Triune God, who to the one not endowed with grace “inhabiteth light inaccessible” (1 Timothy 6:16). Christian grace is a fundamental idea of the Christian religion, the pillar on which, by a special ordination of God, the majestic edifice of Christianity rests in its entirety. Among the three fundamental ideas — sin, redemption, and grace — grace plays the part of the means, indispensable and Divinely ordained, to effect the redemption from sin through Christ and to lead men to their eternal destiny in heaven.
Source

Look at all those links — they’re all articles to offer further explanation about the various ideas.

“Sanctification?” No idea then as now. The Catholic Encyclopedia lists “grace” as “sanctifying grace” and has an article on the related topic of justification but nothing on sanctification. It’s all just a confusing mess when you really look at it:

Since the end and aim of all efficacious grace is directed to the production of sanctifying grace where it does not already exist, or to retain and increase it where it is already present, its excellence, dignity, and importance become immediately apparent; for holiness and the sonship of God depend solely upon the possession of sanctifying grace, wherefore it is frequently called simply grace without any qualifying word to accompany it as, for instance, in the phrases “to live in grace” or “to fall from grace”.

I suspect most adult Catholics wouldn’t be able to explain it beyond the memorized explanations they might have learned in religious education. Push these ideas a little and they begin to slip and slide for the average believer; shove and heave on these ideas and they begin to crack for the average parishioner.

Apologists would explain that this is due to “insufficient catechesis.” But eventually, even the most expert catechist is going to run out of answers. Or they’re going to begin saying stuff like the quotes above, which sound elevated and sophisticated but which, when really examined, are empty and relatively meaningless — when someone pushes back hard enough.

N, however, was content to sit in ignorance.

Slippin’ and Slidin’

Tuesday 10 January 2023

Got into a discussion on Twitter with a Christian about morality. I made the point that Christianity invents the idea of sin (the transgression of a diety’s law) and then sells the solution (Jesus). My interlocutor quickly moved to the “you have no grounds for morality if you don’t believe in a god” argument. I said,

I know what you’re getting at. I’ve seen it all before. It’s a tiresome road to travel down. Your god commands the stoning of incorrigible children (Deut 21:18-21), so I don’t think believers in the Bible can take the moral high ground as you’re trying to do.

The interlocutor replied,

What you just cited was never Carried out. Even the Talmud says this. This was stated by Moses to put fear into GROWN children to obey the commandments to love their mother and father.

To which I responded,

Carried out or not, it was commanded. By your god, no less. You can’t deny that. The fact that it wasn’t carried out goes against your assertion that morality comes from your god. If it wasn’t carried out, it means people realized it’s a sick command.

To which she replied,

How could my God command it if he doesn’t exist?

I answered,

Just because I say “Juliet made a bad decision” doesn’t mean I have to believe she existed. I’m working within the framework of your holy book. It’s that simple.

What I learned from this exchange is the slithery, slimy nature of religious discussions. One topic slides off to another and to still another. Exhausting.

Babcia’s Candle

Thursday 5 January 2023

Any time the sky began growing dark with threatening clouds, Babcia would always shuffle to the kitchen, light a votive candle, and place it in a plate of water.

The motivation behind the small plate of water was obvious: it was protection against an unintentional fire. The bottom of the candle could get quite hot, after all — an entirely reasonable precaution.

The candle itself, though, was to ward off the approaching storm. I’m assuming prayers accompanied the candle, but they must have been silent because the only thing I ever heard Babcia say was, “I must light a candle to keep the storm away.”

If the storm never appeared or the clouds dissipated completely, I’m sure this felt like confirmation of the ritual’s effectiveness. But it didn’t always work. What then?

Looking back on it, this is the same approach Christians take to prayer in general. When a believer prays for something and God appears to have answered the prayer, then it’s confirmation of prayer’s effectiveness. But what happens when God doesn’t seem to have answered the prayer? Most Christians simply move the goalposts.

Let’s say a young child runs out into the road after an errant ball toss and gets struck by a car. The child’s family rushes out to the child lying on the street, praying all the way. If the child gets up, the prayers were answered: God saved the child from all harm. If the child gets taken to the hospital but survived, the prayers were answered: God saved the child from serious harm. If the child ends up paralyzed because of the accident, the prayers were answered: God spared the child’s life. If the child ends up dying, the prayers were answered: God has taken the child into eternal bliss.

This type of thinking persists in the conservative Christian community, and it begins to affect how they view other things. Just look at the followers of the MAGA movement, in particular Mike Lindell and his pronouncements that soon his lawyers will present information that will change everything about the 2020 election. He gives a date by which everything will change; that date comes; nothing changes; he grows silent; after a while, he gives a new date, and the cycle repeats. He’s been doing it for nearly two years now, and those who follow him and believe him give him a pass each and every time.

What can we make of this mentality? If nothing counts against a claim, then it’s not rational in any sense. Unfalsifiable claims are meaningless, and because they’re unfalsifiable, nothing counts against them. But in the case of prayer and the My Pillow guy, they have been falsified, time and time again, and yet believers hold fast. The belief itself, the faith itself, is more important, it seems, than truth.

Beheading Hydra: A Radical Plan for Christians in an Atheistic Age — A Review

Tuesday 3 January 2023

Dwight Longenecker is the pastor of the parish we used to attend. He’s a prolific author, and the title of one of his books caught my attention. It purports to be a “radical plan” for believers in an age of atheism. As a once-Catholic-now-atheist, I thought it would be interesting to see how Longenecker defines the problem and what this radical solution might be.

The problem of what Longenecker seems to see as a predominately atheistic society is a “perfect storm” which is “the culmination of five hundred years of devious philosophies, half-truths, godless ideologies, false religions, and rebellion against God, his Church, and His timeless truths” (7). That’s quite a list of problems there, but what’s key to me is the five-hundred-year timeframe. What really began happening then? Modern science was slowly emerging from the mix of alchemy, philosophy, and superstition that had been used to explain the world in the past. The rise in atheism tracks closely to the success of the scientific method. Granted, what I’m suggesting here is one of the “-isms” that Longenecker claims is problematic, namely scientism, which is the claim “that science alone can render truth about the world and reality” (Source). I certainly don’t believe science is the only source of truth in our world, but when it comes to the physical world itself, it is certainly the most successful. Science continually knocks at religion’s door and says, “Here, we’ll explain that now,” whereas religion never offers explanations that supersede previously accepted science.

But the book is not about just scientism but a whole bunch of “-isms”

atheism
materialism
historicism
scientism
utilitarianism
pragmatism
progressivism
utopianism
relativism
indifferentism
individualism
tribalism
sentimentalism
romanticism
eroticism
Freudianism

That’s a whole lot of “-isms” to tackle in a book just a bit over 200 pages in length, but Longenecker plows through them all, explaining how they’re problematic for Christians and how they contribute to this “atheistic age” he sees us in.

But how can this be? How can we live in a largely atheistic society when most atheists point out the number of elected officials who are Christian is many times larger than the number of elected officials who are atheist (to use one simple metric)? It’s simple: “most atheists are blind to the fact that they are atheists” (21). I read that and immediately realized where he was heading: if you’re going to call yourself a Christian, you’d better act like a Christian and a Christian as I define it. He frames it by saying that this tide of atheism can be slowed with people living authentic Christian lives, but suffice it to say his definition of “atheist” would leave most atheists scratching their head.

“But I’m not an atheist!” I hear you say. Really? Then why do you live like one? If you do not pray, if you do not tithe, if you are living without a real relationship with God, then your belief in God is only a theory (144)

That’s the answer: prayer, tithing, and creating a close community.

While the book is not an effort to disprove these “-isms” definitively, he does take some time to point out what he sees as flaws in them. Regarding atheism and materialism, for example, he makes the argument that miracles “remind us that weird things happen,” and then gives us examples: “Friars float. Dead saints smell like flowers thirty years after they were buried. Seventy thousand people said they saw the sun spin and plummet to earth at Fatima” (30).

This short list he makes refers to

St. Joseph Cupertino, who had “the gift of levitation” (27).
St. Bernadette’s body, which smelled like flowers thirty years after her death.
The appearance of Mary at Fatima.

Cupertino lived from 1603 to 1663: this was a time when people were burning witches, so that Longenecker takes these fanciful claims that he could levitate seriously suggests to me a naivety that I would not have expected. Bernadette’s body does indeed look lovely, but that’s because of the efforts of the faithful: she’s not that way naturally. And Fatima? It’s just as hard to take that seriously.

It’s easy to understand why Longenecker might willingly accept these things: “The spiritual person sees miracles–divine interruptions–all around him, and and through his everyday experience” (31). If you’re looking for it, you’ll find it. That might be advice he’s giving believers, but I think it’s a double-edged sword: when you go so far as to believe in 17th-century floating friars and someone else says, “Wait a minute,” you’re creating a crack in your belief system that doesn’t have to be there.

What are his suggestions for dealing with all these “-isms”? It’s to develop a “creatively subversive alternative.” Real Christianity. Deep Christianity. Prayerful Christianity. After all, it’s happened before: “Every five hundred years, there seems to be a major crisis in the Faith, and at each juncture, a new wave of witnesses rise up.” First there was ancient Rome, but “the first Christians simply lived a graced life of charity and peace, and the pagan world was drawn to their example and converted.” Then, in the sixth century, “St. Benedict stepped out and established simple communities centered on prayer, work, and reading,” which served as a bulwark against the “listless and corrupt” church. By 1000 CE, there was more corruption and crime but the “Benedictine Order surged forth in the great Cistercian renewal.” Finally, there was the Reformation and the Catholic Church’s Counter-Freformation which “brought renewal simply by living out the creatively subversive alternative” (133).

Yet Longenecker’s suggestion that this same kind of solution (returning to a prayerful traditional Christian life) will work in 2023 is almost laughably naive. The forces at work now are much more powerful than the forces at work in the previous periods, and they’re driven by one thing: the internet. Subversion and alternate views can reach even the most sheltered people now, and the amount of material available that simply picks at thread after thread in the tapestry of Christian belief is overwhelming. Skeptics have methodically taken apart argument after argument and shown how the arguments simply don’t make sense. They constitute an ever-present “yeah, but” to everything Christian apologists say, and no amount of praying is going to make that go away.

Really, the only answer is complete sequestration, and that is in essence what Longenecker is suggesting, and it’s what he was doing in the parish, and it’s a significant reason we left.

Magi Thoughts, 1

Monday 12 December 2022

I’m reading Dwight Longenecker’s Mystery of the Magi: The Quest to Identify the Three Wise Men. Longenecker is the pastor of the Catholic church we used to attend here in Greenville, so it’s one of those rare experiences of reading a book whose author you know personally.

Naturally, as a skeptic, I picked up the book with a healthy dose of doubt: I don’t buy the majority of the most basic gospel stories; a fanciful tale of wise men coming from afar, guided by a star, while not as crazy as the idea of a virgin birth, a talking snake, or an apple curse the dooms all humans, is a pretty tough story to sell as historical fact. That is, however, exactly what Longenecker is attempting in the book.

Early in the book, Longenecker begins explaining how so much of the Magi story we’ve come to associate with Christmas is not in the Gospel of Matthew (the only place the Magi appear). At its simplest core, the story is about some wise men who, guided by a star, come to see Jesus at some point after his birth. The camels and the arrival with the shepherds and all the other stuff — that was tacked on later.

Longenecker explains,

Like all good stories, [the Magi story] spread, and as it spread, the simple became embellished, exaggerated, and exploited.
By the Middle Ages the elaborate versions of the Magi story were accepted as historical.
Mystery of the Magi, 24

That sounds awfully similar to skeptics’ view about the development of the New Testament, in particular the stories of the gospels. When you look at the gospels from oldest to news (Mark, Matthew, Luke, John), you see a sort of increasing sense of the supernatural. The stories get more far-fetched. The sayings of Jesus become more philosophical and “deeper.” The miracles increase. In fact, in Mark’s gospel, there isn’t even a post-resurrection appearance: the women go to the tomb, find it empty, and leave afraid. What comes after appears only in later versions of the gospel.

If I were to suggest this to Longenecker, though, I have a feeling he would have a way to explain it away. I doubt I’d be convinced, just as I wasn’t convinced with Hard Sayings. Horn and Longenecker even use a similar rhetorical technique:

make a claim that is reasonable but is only an assertion based on logic;
explain how it is logical;
refer back to it later as established fact.

The Priest

Tuesday 6 December 2022

Priests in the Catholic church have always been afforded special status. Priests in Poland have almost god-like status. Why is this? A post on a Catholic social media stream might offer some insight:

If he is “another Christ” and “God’s Representative,” how could his status increase except by being declared an actual god?

5 Shocking Proofs of Jesus’ Resurrection?

Friday 4 November 2022

Apologist Allen Parr posted a video in which he made the following bold claim:

Have you ever wondered whether the resurrection of Jesus really happened? I get it. I mean, how can we know FOR SURE that the resurrection of Jesus was an actual event in human history? Or have we been believing some myth or fable that has been passed down about the resurrection of Jesus for nearly 2000 years? In this video I give you 5 undeniable proofs of Jesus’ resurrection.
Video Description

Undeniable?! That’s a strong term. Let me see what I can do with them.

Proof 1: The Precautions of the Romans

Parr suggests that “[i]n order to prevent Jesus’ body from being stolen, the Romans took three precautions (Mt. 27:64-66),” which he lists a guard, a stone, and a seal.

According to Parr, the Romans “posted a squad of 10-30 soldiers to protect and guard the tomb where Jesus’ body was laid.” This suggests that the Romans were worried that someone would steal the body. This seems like a legitimate precaution to prevent theft of the body. In addition, the Romans “placed a stone weighing close to 3,500 pounds in front of the tomb preventing people from coming in or out.” Again, a wise precaution if they’re worried about grave robbing. Finally, the Romans “placed a Roman seal across the stone that, if tampered with, was punishable by death.” This is all very logical.

There’s only one small problem with all this: it depends solely on one source, the Bible. This is a problem not because we have reason to doubt that Romans would not have set guards; it’s problematic because we have reason to doubt that they would have disposed of Jesus’s body in any other way than was customary: a mass grave.

Proof 2: The Faith of the Disciples

This is a favorite among apologists: Parr asks, “WHY WOULD THEY RISK THEIR LIVES FOR SOMETHING THEY KNEW WAS A LIE?” (The all-caps screaming was from him not me.) Parr’s reasoning goes like this: “Before Jesus’ crucifixion, the disciples were fearful and ran for their lives (Mt. 14:50). After the resurrection, they became fearless, willing to get beaten, burned, beheaded, sawed in two, stoned and crucified!”

Yet it doesn’t follow that the only other option to “Jesus was really resurrected” is “The early Christians knowingly promoted the like that Jesus was resurrected.” In other words, this argument rests on a false dichotomy.

Furthermore, there’s very little evidence that anyone died because they were Christians who refused to renounce their faith. Certainly, Nero persecuted the Christians, but this was because they were a convenient group to scapegoat. It’s not at all clear that Christians could have saved their lives by renouncing their faith. Furthermore, the persecution of the Christians was, at least to some degree, an exaggeration developed later in Christian history to back up the notion Jesus taught that people would be “persecuted in [his] name.”

Proof 3: Jesus’ Post-Resurrection Appearances

Parr here makes two simple points. First, he says, “The Bible teaches that Jesus spent 40 additional days on earth after His resurrection making convincing proofs that He was alive (Acts 1:3).” Again, the only source for this is the Bible, which is not exactly an unbiased source of unquestionable authorship. Much of the New Testament was written two or more decades after the events it supposedly narrates, and the gospel authors are completely anonymous.

Parr’s second point is that in addition “to appearing multiple times to His disciples, Paul recounts when Jesus appeared to over 500 people at one time who were still alive to give testimony at the time of Paul’s writing (1 Cor. 15:6).” This is a second- or third-hand account at best and even if they do exist, these 500 are completely anonymous.

Proof 4: Secular History Confirms It

Parr argues that if “the Bible was the only book that recorded the resurrection, people might criticize us for using circular reasoning.” He insists that “it is well documented in SECULAR history books,” then lists two: Josephus, The Words of Flavius Josephus and Thomas Arnold’s History of Rome. These are problematic for several reasons, including the most basic being that Josephus didn’t write anything called The Words of Flavius Josephus. He wrote The Jewish War and Antiquities of the Jews, and these works appear in The Works of Flavius Josephus. It might just be a typo, but it certainly wears at the credibility. But what does Josephus actually say about Jesus?

About this time lived Jesus, a wise man, if indeed one ought to call him a man. For he was the achiever of extraordinary deeds and was a teacher of those who accept the truth gladly. He won over many Jews and many of the Greeks. He was the Messiah. When he was indicted by the principal men among us and Pilate condemned him to be crucified, those who had come to love him originally did not cease to do so; for he appeared to them on the third day restored to life, as the prophets of the Deity had foretold these and countless other marvelous things about him, and the tribe of the Christians, so named after him, has not disappeared to this day.

Yet the bit about “He was the Messiah” is clearly a Christian addition as Josephus was a Jew and would not have accepted Jesus as the Messiah.

There is a second mention of Jesus in Josephus, but it is weaker than the first:

Having such a character [“rash and daring” in the context], Ananus thought that with Festus dead and Albinus still on the way, he would have the proper opportunity. Convening the judges of the Sanhedrin, he brought before them the brother of Jesus who was called the Christ, whose name was James, and certain others. He accused them of having transgressed the law and delivered them up to be stoned.

It’s not even about Jesus but about his brother, James. What’s important to note, though, is that neither of Josephus’s passages deals with Jesus’s supposed resurrection. We might use them to confirm that Jesus existed but nothing more.

As far as Thomas Arnold’s History of Rome goes, I’m not even sure why Parr would suggest that this is pertinent in any way since it was published in 1838, a full 18 centuries (or if we’re going to put it in the context of the Old Testament, 180 decades) after Jesus’s death. That Parr includes this is simply laughable.

After this, though, Par includes a list of “ATHEISTS WHO BECAME CHRISTIANS”

Frank Morrison, Who Moved the Stone?
Lee Stroebel, The Case for Christ
Josh McDowell, The New Evidence that Demands a Verdict

I have no idea why he included this — it has nothing to do with secular historians confirming Jesus’s resurrection.

Proof 5: The Missing Body Was Never Found

Parr’s final argument is the weakest: the body never turned up. He argues, “If Jesus never rose from the dead, then the Romans could have produced the body, thus destroying Christianity forever.” But this assumes that the first-century Romans cared enough about Christianity or viewed it as any threat to do something like this. Remember: this is just after the supposed resurrection. How many Christians were there? How much of a threat did the Romans think they posed? Apocalyptic sects were all over the place: why would they have cared about this particular one?

Parr concludes, “But…the body was never found in the tomb because Jesus rose from the dead!” Or maybe because it was tossed in a mass grave like all other crucifixion victims’ bodies.

Key Takeaway

Parr writes in his “Key Takeaway” that the “reality of the resurrection will not only give you more confidence about what you believe, but also give you the knowledge and ammunition you need to silence those who are skeptical about the Christian faith.” If this is the best he’s got, I’d advise his followers not use these arguments on any vaguely-informed skeptic.

Original Video

Exchange

Sunday 18 September 2022

But God is NOT a commanding officer, now is He??

Of course, he is.

Who made him commanding office? One of higher authority had to do so. So who was it?

Don’t be silly with semantics. You know what I meant.

As you do mine. God IS and IS in command. So why do you rebel against your commander? And don’t pull this crap that He’s not YOUR commander.

But he’s not. Sorry — had to pull it.

What any rebel should say. Any treasonous rebel. Any delusional, treasonous rebel.

I’ll bet you just can’t wait to be in heaven watching me writhe in hell, right?

But what about YOU??? Evidently you wrote and then deleted. Afraid of your own lie? Yeah it’s hard work figuring new ways to ignore truth. Why are you avoiding the issue?

I originally said that there’s no hate like Christian love. You’re a great example of that. Then I thought you’d probably say something like, “I look forward to watching you roast,” or some such nonsense. I’m not afraid of anything; I’m not ignoring the truth; I’m not avoiding any issues. I just don’t believe. But I’m not dripping with only slightly concealed hatred like you are.

Why is it “hatred” to say you are a rebel against God? Or why is EVERYTHING that is a contrary view labeled “hatred” by you people?? It’s like the only verb you know.

So many Christians can’t see themselves as others see them. It’s a form of hatred because it’s a judgment made on a personal standard that insinuates that joy I suggested you feel when you contemplate me in hell. It suggests that you will stand in judgment alongside your god and say with mock sadness, “Lord, you know best, but of course, I can’t say anything about this miserable wretch other than to say he’s rebelled against you — which of course you already know, Lord,” all the while anticipating getting watch me get my dues. “I told you so!” you can say. So on second thought, perhaps it’s not hatred as much as childishness.

And how others see is always right and correct, huh? So we must cater to what YOU think? How bout non-Christians can’t see themselves the way God sees them? And once again, the unbeliever makes a shambles of Christian doctrine while congratulating himself in his mockery. Dude…we were ALL rebels. We say nothing about you that we couldn’t say of ourselves.

“How bout non Christians can’t see themselves the way God sees them?” — See? You’re speaking for your god, standing by his side and passing judgment, eager to see your so-called enemy cast into the flames. As for “And once again, the unbeliever makes a shambles of Christian doctrine while congratulating himself in his mockery.” — I don’t even see where that came from. I watched a couple of your videoes, so I know you have a real persecution complex like so many Christians, and you’ll read into things persecution that’s not even there, but I wasn’t even talking about any Christian doctrine. I was talking about your attitude. This whole thing started with me making an off-hand comment about the Christian god being a sort of commander-in-chief (You know, like “Onward Christian Soldiers”?), and you’ve blown this up into — I don’t even know what. I’m just shaking my head in disbelief: I don’t get you or your attitude. I never said anything derogatory about Christians or Christian beliefs. I just made a silly comment. Calm down, man. This has gotten way out of hand: you’re frothing at the mouth.

No I’m nailing you to the wall for bring so flippant. You make it sound like you’re not even referring to Christianity. Liar. Persecution complex? Not here, bud. You don’t know what that is anymore more than you understand rebellion.

I read that imagining John Wayne was saying it. Very effective.

Please identify this “hate”. You make reference to it but do not state what you consider hateful.

I did. A few comments ago. (That comment didn’t sound so great in a John Wayne voice. I was hoping for more “nail you to the wall” kind of bravado.)

Genocide

Thursday 15 September 2022

The commands to genocide in the Old Testament are particularly troubling for most people except for the most basic, literal-thinking fundamentalist (Protestant or Catholic). For them is simple: God said it, so it’s morally right. Most other Christians take a little more nuanced approach — at least the ones who know about the passages and want to deal with them honestly.

Capturing Christianity — a YouTube apologetics channel — invited Dr. Randal Rauser, who describes himself as “progressively evangelical, generously orthodox, rigorously analytic, [and] revolutionary Christian thinking,” to discuss the troubling passages. He wrote Jesus Loves Canaanites, a book that deals with the various Christian attempts to explain these passages. I listened to the interview on my run this evening, and two things stood out.

How do we make sense of the fact that God is supposed to be love and yet he commands all these awful things? Surely this creates some cognitive dissonance that Christians want to deal with. How do we deal with it?

Rauser explains that, in dealing with these passages, Christians need to “develop different reading strategies to minimize the cognitive dissonance that is created when we read these passages.” Earlier he mentions a new convert who discovered these passages and found them troubling, and Rauser suggests that new converts who haven’t been “inculcated” with these reading habits might find these passages to be stumbling blocks to their faith. It’s interesting that he uses the word “inculcated” because the definition Oxford is “instill (an attitude, idea, or habit) by persistent instruction.” Persistent instruction — drilling this into one’s head. So in order to deal with these issues, one has to have drilled into one’s head certain reading habits. What are these habits?

One of them is to ask if a given interpretation develops a love of God and man. If it doesn’t, it’s not the intended interpretation. But this puts the cart before the horse: one should not have to read the Bible with an ideal interpretive framework in place that automatically defaults to erring on the side of the Bible. That’s not critical study; that’s mindless acceptance.

Another reading technique is to apply what we know about God and ask if a certain interpretation reflects that.

He uses the extreme example of Dena Schlosser, who in 2004 used a knife to amputate the arms of her eleven-month-old baby because it was a sacrifice God had asked her to make. Rauser insists that

the vast majority of people today, we don’t even give it a moment’s consideration that God possibly willed such a thing to happen because we believe it is fundamentally inconsistent with who God is. And we would say, maybe she was influenced by a demonic entity or she is mentally ill, schizophrenic or something else, but what we don’t think seriously is that God maybe or possibly commanded that.

Yet I don’t see why we can’t imagine God commanding that: he did command Abraham to do just the same thing. If we’re going to accept that Abraham was justified in what he did, we have to at least consider that Schlosser was justified in what she did. After all, who are we to say that God wasn’t talking to her?

But of course, we will say that because it’s the only thing we can say. To suggest that God might be getting back into the business of having people slaughter each other at his bidding opens up such potential chaos and terror that it’s unimaginable.

A favorite question of skeptics when the story of Abraham and Isaac comes up is to ask the Christian, “What would you do if God commanded you to kill your child?” Most Christians will hem and haw and suggest that they’d have themselves checked into a hospital to check for mental illness and yet at the same time deny that possibility for Abraham.

I commend Rauser for dealing with the issue, but like Trent Horn, he seems just to be offering possible ways out that allow a Christian some breathing room from the crowding cognitive dissonance that rattles thinking Christians’ faith.

Strawman

Wednesday 14 September 2022

This whole discussion starts with a sort of ad hominem attack on Harris, suggesting his view is “naive” and (later) silly. That’s amusing since all Harris was doing was paraphrasing the basic core of the Biblical account of the ascension and second coming. There’s a literal up motion and a down motion: Up toward the sky for the ascension, down toward earth for the second coming. All this “vast” and “rich” and “nuanced” theory that Davis presents is simply modern apologists’ attempts at recasting these events in a way that doesn’t so clearly contradict science. The fact is simple: for most of Christian history, a literal upward motion to heaven above us and vice versa was the only understanding. If you’re criticizing Harris’s view, you are in fact criticizing the Biblical account. All the theories Davis presents are simply speculative apology that has absolutely no support in the Biblical text.

Sapiens Thoughts

Monday 12 September 2022

I’ve been reading Yuval Harari’s Sapiens, and two early passages have led me to see religion in a whole new way. Unfortunately, neither epiphany is ultimately flattering for religion, but at least one thought from the book got me thinking that religion was a useful tool in our development.

The first realization comes from the argument religionists make about the existence of morality being ultimately due to the existence of a law-giver that created a conscience in us all that is somewhat similar. Murder, theft, and lying seem to be universally bad — how could this be unless some god “wrote that on our heart” to use a Christian apologist metaphor. Harari points out, however, that because we Homo sapiens walk upright, our hips have to be narrower, which led to an evolutionary preference to earlier birth. But human babies need much more care and development time than babies of other species, and this necessitated help from others. This need, in turn, led to evolutionary selection for people more likely to cooperate and live together peacefully. And this would eventually result in a moral system that prized compassion and cooperation — without the need for a god.

The second realization came from Harari’s contention that Homo sapiens development into a species that can coexist in large groups, much larger than our closest evolutionary relative, the chimp, has to do with our ability to use language to describe things that aren’t actually there. To create fiction, in other words. He writes, “Large numbers of strangers can cooperate successfully by believing in common myths.” He continues,

Two Catholics who have never met can nevertheless go together on crusade or pool funds to build a hospital because they both believe that God was incarnated in human flesh and allowed Himself to be crucified to redeem our sins. States are rooted in common national myths. Two Serbs who have never met might risk their lives to save one another because both believe in the existence of the Serbian nation, the Serbian homeland and the Serbian flag.

This common myth enables large-scale cooperation that doesn’t appear in the societies of other apes.

The problem, though, is that we are at a point in our development in which the competing myths can go to war with each other with catastrophic effects for the entire plant…

Friday Night Football

Friday 2 September 2022

When I was in high school, Friday night football was, during the beginning of the year, the highlight of the week. Everyone would arrive early to stake out their seats and make sure all the lowly freshmen got the worst seats. Friends saved seats for each other, and had cell phones existed then, they likely would have been texting each other, asking where they were, demanding that they hurry.

All the students went to cheer on the team, to hang out, to escape parents, to escape the everyday. The cheerleaders led everyone with raucous, taunting chants, and the marching band took the spotlight during halftime. The football players looked, and probably felt, a bit like stars.

My next-door neighbor played on the football team, and though we were not close, I’d wish him luck with the game if I saw him that day. The neighbor across the street also played, but even though I was closer to him than my next-door neighbor during our childhood, by the time we reached high school, we rarely talked.

Win or lose, spirits were always high. While everyone wanted the home team to win, it wasn’t just about the game’s outcome. It was about the friendship and closeness that everyone experienced.

At least I’m assuming it was, for I never went to a Friday night high school football game as a kid. Not once. It was in part because of a lack of desire, I suppose: football was never really something I loved except for a short couple of years when I was in second and third grade. (Or was it first and second grade? Or third and fourth grade? Hard to remember.) The main reason I never went was because it was off limits: growing up in a sabbatarian sect, we observed Friday night sundown to Saturday night sundown as the Sabbath, and all worldly cares and events went by the wayside. A Friday night football game was most certainly out of the question.

I never really wanted to go, but I wouldn’t have been able to even if I did want it.

Or I tell myself that. Could my inability to go, my knowledge long before I could develop a desire to go that I would never be allowed to go, my certainty that there was something deeply and spiritually wrong with going to watch a football game on Friday night — could that have tempered my desire before it ever developed?

I tell myself that I would not have felt comfortable there even if I did go because most of that crowd — the in-crowd, the popular crowd — felt uncomfortable. But why? If I’m honest it’s because I was always distancing myself to begin with: I knew I could never really do any of the things they did on the weekend even if I was invited, even if they begged me because they thought I was the most amazing person to be around, even if I were king of homecoming (which I could have never been because, well, it’s probably obvious). I’d never been terribly close to any of them outside of school (and perhaps playing in the neighborhood after school) during elementary school, and that moved with me into junior high where it settled into a sort of permanent quasi-outsider sense that I carried with me into college.

So at tonight’s high football game — the first I, at nearly fifty years old, had ever been to in my life — I found myself wondering how different my light might have been if I had not grown up in what can only charitably be called a sect. I’m not bitter about my childhood; I don’t regret that life; I appreciate what I got in return for Friday night and Saturday events.

But I still can’t help but wonder…

A Short Response

Wednesday 31 August 2022

I’ve been listening to a discussion between Alex O’Connor, an atheist, and Trent Horn, a Catholic. At one point, an audience member asks Horn a simple question: what level of evil would have to exist in the world for you to think that perhaps it’s an unjustifiable level of evil that thus counts as evidence against the existence of a god. His answer was revealing, so I made a one-minute response video.

Here’s the whole discussion:

Belief Revisited

Friday 19 August 2022

It’s a quote I’ve used twice here:

[Belief] may be the battle of your life, but emotionally and intellectually, it could also be the most exhilarating one you’ve ever engaged in. Whether you experience God’s reality or are just intellectually intrigued by the idea, God can be a very real force in peoples’ lives – spiritual, emotional, supportive – that almost no other system can offer. But you must gird yourself for a fight and know that you’re going to have to try to reconcile very difficult things. Or at least hold them in suspension and bounce them back and forth and get tired. There’s no quick fix, but we have the benefit of drawing on thousands of years of religious thinking. You can’t learn it over a weekend. It’s an engagement for the rest of your life.
Burton Visotzky

I originally included it while discussing Winifred Galligher’s Working on God, in which it’s originally quoted.

Belief

I also reposted the quote on its own a few years later, undoubtedly just to have an easy way out of keeping up some artificial posting streak:

Burton Visotzky

In some ways, I think I admired that quote, but now, I view it so very differently.

Visotzky writes that believers are “going to have to try to reconcile very difficult things. Or at least hold them in suspension and bounce them back and forth and get tired.” I originally read this very ambiguously, not really thinking about what exactly one must reconcile. As I’ve returned to my skeptical positions of the past after a sojourn in faith, I see it simply: you’re going to have to reconcile contradictions or ignore them. Contradictions between faith claims and scientific claims. Contradictions between various faiths’ claims. Contradictions between claims of omnipotence and omnibenevolence and the evil we see around us. Contradictions within traditions’ holy books. You might “get tired,” he suggests. I think that’s what happened to me: I got tired of the continual cognitive disonance.

Far from being a wise quote, I see this now as the dysfunctional heart of faith itself: it’s seeing one thing that has an abundance of evidence and believing another that has little to no real evidence.

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