Information from a Viewer

Someone sent us this link today, and I want to alert people to this.

http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/meast/03/31/saudi.arabia.sorcery/index.html?hpt=Sbin

“Lebanese man charged with sorcery and sentenced to death in Saudi Arabia is scheduled to be beheaded on Friday, the man’s lawyer said Wednesday.”

I don’t know if there is anything anyone can do–but I feel helpless and desperate for this person. I can’t imagine being in this situation. And I have no idea what could possibly be done by an anyone to assist. All I can offer is relaying the story for public awareness.

Should U.S. Law Require Church Approval?

On page one of Monday’s Austin American-Statesman, the headline (“House Approves Health Care Bill”) dealt with the passage of the new healthcare reform bill. One issue that was contentious was the way abortion would be handled. Whether you agree with healthcare reform or not, whether you agree with abortion choice or not, this quote, within the article, should send a shiver down your spine:

“A spokesman for the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops expressed skepticism that the order would satisfy the church’s objections.”

I didn’t realize U.S. law needed to even consider church objections. But there you go.

Excerpts from a Conversation

I recently had an exchange with a fellow atheist, and wrote quite a bit about a lot of different topics. A few observations I made could be of interest on this list, so I decided to post one or two things from that dialog. Well, that and I felt a need to prove I can post a “normal sized” blog entry.

On Anti-Atheist Prejudice
We get regular letters from young people (and on occasion older ones) who say they’re afraid to “come out”–in the same way a child might be scared to tell his parents he’s gay. Or they say they’ve lost their faith, and now their spouse has withdrawn from them, and their relationship is frozen. People who believe don’t understand there is this deep-seated prejudice. They think “nobody’s forcing you to believe anything–stop your whining.” But they don’t understand their son or daughter is in their bedroom upstairs writing to a group of atheist strangers on the Internet they’ve seen on Youtube saying, “I think my parents will throw me out of the house if I tell them I don’t believe in god.” And the kid is writing to us because he can tell us about his deepest beliefs–but he can’t speak to his own parents about his thoughts and feelings. How sad is that, really? If I were a parent, I don’t think anything would make me feel more like a failure than to find out my child was confiding in absolute strangers rather than me, because I had convinced him through my comments and prejudices that I would despise him if he told me what he really believes or who he really is. But I can guarantee you that if these parents found these letters–they’d hammer the kid about contacting us, and not reflect on their own views that made their kid so distrustful of their capacity to accept and love him despite any ideological differences. This is the stuff that really breaks my heart when I read it.

On Missing the Forest for the Trees
[A particular theist] won’t move toward replacing [religion] with Humanism, because he accepts there is a god. In one conversation he defends the idea of considering it a miracle if there is a horrible plane crash where everyone, except one child, dies. Focus on the child who survived–not the 200 people who just lost their lives. This sort of microscopic focus is par for the course with religious people. I once likened the Intelligent Design argument to Wile E. Coyote’s inventions. The believer has this amazing capacity to focus on a few specks of things and make them meaningful–totally disregarding this ridiculously vast universe in which we float amid vacuums, and radiation, and supernovas and hurtling comets–just a mess of chaos held together through physical laws. Somehow they are able to drill down to “people” and say that demonstrates a “purpose” to the whole mechanism. That would represent one of the most inefficient designs ever produced–if people on Earth really are the point of this whole universe. All this for some speck of existence in some far corner? And yet they see this as crystal clear. If you believe god exists and is good, and you can discount 200 dead bodies (and 99.9 percent of the universe) for one child–what ratio of bad to good would it take even to get you to say, “Even if this god exists, what a monster”?

On Responsibility
I like that you break down Euthyphro briefly as well. Christians rarely break this down. They seem to just have some amorphous surface sense of getting morality from god/the Bible–but don’t really consider it as a question of how that mechanism would function. After talking to them, you get to a point where they assert basically that you can use your personal (presumably god-given) morality to judge god as good, but you can’t judge god as bad. In my own mind, if I can’t fathom how a command could be moral, then I shouldn’t follow it, regardless of who issued it. To do so is immoral because to do so is irresponsible–but that’s faith, right? Kill your own child if god requests it. What I would say is that I can’t take responsibility for a thing if I don’t understand what I’m being asked to do. “Just following orders” is not an example of personal responsibility. But the Christian sees a “responsibility to god” as being on a higher order. They see the atheist exercising personal responsibility as wrong–since the atheist is not shouldering his “responsibility to god.” We end up being “irresponsible” for wanting to know exactly what we’re doing and what the reasons and implications are for the action, before we’ll do it.

The skeptic, however, looks at it like this: If it seems bad to kill my own child, I need to ask for an explanation–and refuse to comply until I get it. If I’m going to commit an atrocity, I think it’s fair to at least ask to know why I’m being asked to commit it. To you and I, that’s reasonable. The idea anyone would object to it is mystifying.

However, the theist sees this as presumptuous and arrogant. I will admit there may be some good reason I hadn’t thought of that would get me to comply; but I can’t say I’m “taking responsibility for my actions” if I’m simply deferring to a fiat-style command with no personal understanding of what I’m doing. In no other context, outside religion, would either the theist or the atheist consider that a description of “being responsible.”

So, in Christianity, if you want to take real responsibility for your actions, by understanding thoroughly what you’re doing, you end up being labeled someone who “does what he wants” because he doesn’t like responsibility–you refuse to own up to your “responsibility to god.”

Summary
In the end, I added notes about what I posted previously–that the doctrine of total depravity makes it more “sensible” to trust people who say you can’t trust them, than people who consider themselves and others fairly trustworthy. And I noted how in the post on hymns, the idea of a brutal human sacrifice is trotted out as an example of unmatched love and mercy. Ultimately I ended the exchange with this thought:

What would it take to screw a person’s head on this “wrongly”? I submit it takes the first several years of their life spent in a Sunday School with mom and/or dad endorsing the entire process.

More on McGrath

I actually found another exchange between Alister McGrath and Richard Dawkins that is set up in debate format. This series, also on Youtube, is in seven parts, unlike the more conversational series I described in my last post about these two men, which is in 15 parts.

McGrath authored a book in response to Dawkins’ book “God Delusion.” But I’m not critiquing his book, just his arguments as he speaks to defend his faith against being declared a “delusion.”

My first objection came in part 2, where McGrath said (emphasis his):

“In the brief time available, what I thought I would do is to try and engage with what seems to me to be the strongest argument in Professor Dawkins’ book. And that is that there is in some way a link between religion, between belief in god, and violence. Because I think that is a very significant issue, and one that really does need to be addressed.”

Note to theists: This is not only not the “strongest argument” to demonstrate belief in god is a delusion, it’s not even an argument that is generally ever used to demonstrate belief in god is a delusion.

There are mainly two situations I observe where atheists appeal to the harm caused by religion:

1. “Why do you care?”
The first is when asked “Why do you care what other people believe?” And in that case, it’s extremely relevant. The reason it is important to “care” what a religious person–let’s say a Muslim extremist–believes, is as easy as 9-11. People act on what they believe. What I believe matters. What you believe matters. What other people believe matters. Not everything a person believes has consequences, but when something they believe can be demonstrated to have consequences for others, it’s justifiably important to others.

Some beliefs seem to have a capacity to motivate people to do terrible things. Religion is in that category. Many religious people are good people. Some are dangerous people. The issue with religion is that it’s often the case that the dangerous people explain their harmful actions by pointing directly and unambiguously to their religious beliefs. They aren’t bad people who “just happen” to be religious.

I’m not talking about the guy who attends church every Sunday, but secretly molests his daughter. Yes, that guy “just happens” to be religious. Nothing within his religion justifies abusing his child. But the activities of Muslim extremists are absolutely driven, at least in part, by religious belief. That familiar shout of “Allahu Akbar!” says it all. They aren’t a group of people doing bad things who “just happen” to be Muslims.

But none of this has anything to do with whether or not their belief in god is a delusion. God may exist and may be the cruel and abusive tyrant they prostrate themselves to regularly. I don’t believe that’s the case, but my doubt has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that extremists do horrible things. The best I can do in response to this single fact is to say that if their god exists, I don’t like Him. I can’t conclude from it that their god is probably not real. There is simply no way I am aware of to make a logical connection that someone doing horrible things, even for their god, means no god exists. And I’m sure Dawkins understands this. And I’m baffled McGrath doesn’t understand that Dawkins quite probably understands this–which is what caught my attention.

2. Morality requires religion
The second reason I see atheists broach the fact that religious people can be driven to do horrible things because of (not in spite of) their religion, is as a portion of a defense to the spurious claim that religion is somehow a bastion, or even the only means, of morality. And this would generally be put forward along with examples of nonreligiously motivated acts of kindness.

So, that’s really it. Those are the two reasons I most often see atheists appeal to religious harm. As a foundational argument for unbelief it’s rarely used, and I’d spit milk through my nose if I ever heard Dawkins use it in that way. Certainly it cannot be among the “strongest arguments” for god as a delusion, for the simple reason it offers nothing whatsoever to undermine the claim “god exists.”

Many atheists criticize religious harm. But there are very few who hang their unbelief in god on it. It is the rare atheist who says, “I just can’t believe there could be a god who could allow such things in His name.” That’s a variation on an informal fallacy, the Argument from Incredulity. I do recall, though, in my religious indoctrination, being taught that this was a common atheist argument against the existence of god. But, based on some other statements McGrath makes, I don’t suspect his use of this particular strawman is due to indoctrination. And I’ll give my reasons for that later. For now I will just say I’ve never personally interacted with such an atheist–although I do recall at least once coming across something similar to that statement online posted by a self-labeled atheist. So, I don’t doubt such atheists exist. I just doubt they are so numerous that this point about religiously motivated harm could be justifiably labeled the “strongest argument” in Dawkins’–or any atheist’s–arsenal against belief in the existence of god. Not many atheists use it, and it’s a glaring fallacy. It would seem reasonable that the “strongest argument” would have to be one that attacks the root–god’s existence–not merely a branch–how believers behave.

If we believe gods can exist–but there are none to examine–we cannot logically rule out the possibility of apathetic or cruel gods. In fact, cruel or uncaring god models would subvert many atheist rebuttals, such as the Problem of Evil and Euthyphro. To assert “my preferred model of a kind god doesn’t appear to exist, therefore no model of god can exist” is egocentric in the extreme–and logical garbage, to boot. There are a variety of decent reasons to support unbelief; however, “religious harm” is not among them.

Note to theists: If you are responding to someone who is saying your belief in god is a delusion, and you think their “strongest argument” is that some religious people are horrible, you are either arguing with that one-in-a-million atheist mentioned above, or you don’t really understand the point you’re being presented with.

McGrath then goes on to say: “The point I’d like to try and make is this: Religious belief is ambivalent. It can be destructive. I think we need to be very, very clear about that…That is a significant danger in any religious belief system. And indeed one of the reasons why I, myself, was an atheist for some time was that it seemed to me logically inevitable that if there were no religion in Northern Ireland, there would be no conflict. Likewise, at the time I was studying the sciences, and it seemed to me obvious, again, that if the sciences were right, then there was no need for god at all. This could be safely disposed of with the greatest of ease.” (Emphasis mine.)

Let’s hold right there for a moment. I can grasp his second reason–the bit about science. You can legitimately cut out parts of models that aren’t necessary–as we all learned from the old children’s tale, “Stone Soup.” Howeve
r, how does that first reason figure? Let’s say it’s true that if you could eliminate religion from a region it would result in the end of conflict. How do you get from there to “I don’t believe god exists”? There is no rational path between that statement and atheism.

McGrath actually says this is one of the reasons he was an atheist. To demonstrate the absurdity of what he just said, let me restate it almost verbatim and put in something else that can sometimes cause harm, besides belief in god. Let’s see how it translates: “One of the reasons why I, myself, was an unbeliever in the sun for some time, was that it seemed to me logically inevitable that if we didn’t have sunbathers, there would be a lot less skin cancer in the world.”

To deny the existence of something because you dislike its effects is not rational. Someone asked in the other post about McGrath, why he had been an atheist. I’m wondering, if his reasons for unbelief really did include “religious harm,” does he then assume other atheists are atheists because they are similarly impaired when it comes to understanding where the implications of religious harm are or are not logically employed? Could he be reasoning that because he held to an unreasonable connection between religious harm and the nonexistence of god, that’s why the rest of us keep bring up religious harm in atheist-theist debates? If that’s what is happening, then his own experience has put a bias in place that interferes with his ability to understand what the atheist is actually saying. Even Dawkins admits he could be wrong that god is a delusion; but if he is wrong, it won’t be for reasons that stupid.

In my prior post, McGrath seemed to be thinking Dawkins didn’t know you can draw conclusions without iron-clad evidence, even while the real question was: Why do you feel compelled to take that leap of unjustified faith at the end, when you could stay rational and stop where the evidence ends, with an honest statement that there is insufficient evidence to justify that last leap? In trying to analyze these exchanges, I see twice now where the problem is that McGrath is misunderstanding Dawkins’ points in ways that presume points only an idiot would make. If theists generally think this way–and I certainly recall thinking this way–it’s no wonder they see atheism as the irrational position. They have no idea, really, how the position is supported. I am beginning to see more clearly the dire need to get information out to the public to dispel misconceptions about atheism. Is this really how people think we reason? Even though I thought this way myself, as a fundamentalist Christian, I suppose it never dawned on me how powerful these misconceptions–these strawmen–can be.

He goes on to point out religion is powerful and transformative. Agreed. That is precisely why it’s so dangerous when it goes bad. He says we need to be aware that religion going bad is a possibility, but there are other possibilities. Agreed. Not all religious people are oppressive or murderous. Did someone say they were? While I could imagine an atheist who might make such a wild accusation–that atheist wouldn’t be Dawkins, or anyone at AETV, or any atheist who contacts us generally. So, who is McGrath talking to?

In support, he quotes Shermer saying that religion causes horrible atrocities, but that many believers do good things. Is he assuming atheists don’t know this? The question from critical atheists is whether those people could be motivated to goodness without religion–which McGrath agrees comes with some powerfully harmful baggage. McGrath criticizes Dawkins for not giving credit to religion in “God Delusion” for the good associated with it; but Dawkins wasn’t making a case for religion. He was explaining his reasons for being against it. Touting positive attributes–that religion, itself, shouts nonstop from every rooftop–would seem unnecessary and out of context. Is there anyone in this debate who isn’t already well acquainted with Christian charitable efforts?

The question is actually, “Does a motivated Baptist do more good than a motivated Humanist? Is belief in god required to motivate people to do good?” And the answer is, “Clearly not.” Is it required to motivate people to do bad? Also, absolutely not. It motivates both good and bad in people. But without it, we could still motivate people to do good through Humanist endeavors that work toward the good of mankind and the planet–but don’t demonstrably result in people blowing themselves up. Also without it, the threat of the “bad” it generates would be eliminated. Surely there would be other ideologies out there to motivate horrors, just as we have others to motivate goodness. But without religion, there would be one less to motivate horrors. And the positive force it represents–the motive to do good–could be shouldered just as well by secular outlets for humanity which would remain available.

Here, in clear terms, is what I mean: Let’s say we find a treatment for all terminal varieties of cancer that permanently paralyzes 20% of the people who use it, but positively cures the other 80%. If we later discover a similar cure that paralyzes 10% of the patients, and cures 90%–would anyone argue we should continue using the first treatment for the “good” that it does, if it offered no added benefit over the new drug? Who could reasonably, in good conscience, suggest such a thing?

I may do more on McGrath. I’m not sure. I see a benefit to examining the communication divide: what atheists “say,” versus what theists “hear.” Understanding not only what sorts of misconceptions theists hold, but also why they hold them, could assist in moving dialogs along at a quicker pace. It would be, I suppose, “increased understanding,” not to increase respect, but rather to increase communication efficiency.

That would be my goal. Whether or not I achieve it is another matter.

The “Ressurection” Guy Writes Back

The young man featured in Martin’s last “resurrection” post wrote back to me on a response I had offered him. My original response wasn’t nearly as long and thorough as Martin’s. I had only asked a simple question:

To paraphrase: “Many Christians assert the resurrection stories align perfectly, and this is evidence of their truth. You are writing to say they are not aligned, and this is evidence of their truth. My question is: How do we identify a falsehood if stories that are either consistent or inconsistent are both evidence of truth?”

Since other people as well replied, I didn’t expect an answer from such a brief note from me. But when he wrote back he explained he’s in a confused state where he doesn’t know what to believe, and he’s contacting us mainly as a sounding board to see what we say to evidence and reason that seem convincing to him currently. He even added that what we said, he thought, “made a lot of sense.” I admire that he’s even asking questions. And I also understand how indoctrination can make nonsense sound sensible. So, even though the rebuttals seem obvious to me, I do get that he really doesn’t see them.

His point back to me was to issue another question. He thinks it is valid to consider that many parts of the Bible are myth, and not all literal. I agree. The difference between us is that I classify anything that isn’t demonstrated in reality (or conflicts with demonstrated reality) into the “myth” category, while he is trying to sort out which of the things that defy reality are “literal.”

He expressed that he has heard that god wrote to Hebrews in terms they could understand—to the mind of an ancient Hebrew—and that’s why the content is sometimes wrong or less than perfect. He asserted further that if the Bible is concerned with how to get to heaven, rather than how the universe works, then it’s not right to judge the problems it presents in its less-than-accurate models of reality. He gave me a quote from Galileo to support this. It is ironic the quote he offered was from Galileo—a man who dispelled more than a few erroneous Christian beliefs, some of which were supported by Biblical texts. Nobody would know better than Galileo that the Bible got it’s “reality” a bit muddled. But he excused it by saying this isn’t the point of the Bible’s divine message.

Again, I asked the same question (again to paraphrase): It is either the case that you are right, and a god wrote a book using ancient Hebrews, that was riddled with the misconceptions and ignorance we would expect to find in the ancient Hebrew mind, or it is the case that it actually is a book written by ancient Hebrews including all the misconceptions and errors within it we would expect to find in an ancient Hebrew mind, but attributed to a god in the same way many other cultures have developed similar stories about gods that sound like their own minds. If this book contained correct and advanced scientific statements, would you then consider it’s not from god, since it doesn’t sound like an ignorant Hebrew? Really, I think that if it had that sort of really good and sufficiently advanced grasp on reality within it, you’d be writing to say anyone should see no ancient Hebrew could have produced such knowledge out of his own head without an advanced intelligence to guide him. So, I’m back to the question: If god writes books that sound just like books ignorant people write—how do we tell books written by gods from books not written by gods?

I also suggested he do some research into the canonization process to make his own assessment about whether that sounds like a good strategy for a god to use to get his message to mankind.

What’s interesting to me, as well, is the emphasis this young man puts on the idea that god inspired the Bible. He’s putting the cart before the horse. The question of whether or not god inspired the Bible can only be relevant after the question “Does a god exist?” has been answered. And I did bring this up with him as well—that I don’t see any reason to believe a god inspired anything until I see some demonstration of gods in reality.

Eventually, I’m betting, he’s going to get to that point—to the realization that the real question here isn’t what god does or does not do, but whether there is a god at all. We can start the dialog at the middle or the end, but until that question is resolved, no claims about god—god’s actions or attributes—matter.

And I wonder how long it will be before we get to ID? To the point where I’m asking the same question about the universe: How do we tell a universe without a god from one with a god where god makes it look like he’s not there? There’s an old saying, “If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…” I would like to change the ending to “then why would you assert it’s a god disguised as a duck, rather than a duck?”

I’ve said before that it’s a testament to the awesomeness of nature that so many people can’t believe what they see before their very eyes. It reminds me of Matt. Yes, I agree he’s awesome; but that’s not what I’m driving at. Matt does magic tricks. The last one I saw was a really good one where he sat me down with zener cards and “I” was able to predict all of the cards before he turned them over, on a table right in front of me—supposedly a “test” of my “psychic abilities.”

I joked with Matt that one problem with the trick is that he can’t do it without me—since psychic powers like mine are demonstrably very rare from even a cursory survey of reality. I don’t know many people who could do what I just did sitting at that table—successfully predicting every card without so much as breaking a sweat!

Of course, we all know it’s a trick—even if we never find out how it was done (and no, he didn’t tell me, and I knew better than to ask). But what a testament to the wonderful illusion of that trick if someone was thoroughly convinced that it had to have been done through magic—real magic: “No mortal man could possibly have done what I just saw. Matt has magic powers, the ability to draw out my psychic capacity in some way.”

If I walked away convinced of that—what a trick that would be! Now, it would pay no homage to Matt’s real skill as a magician in one sense, since I failed utterly to appreciate the work that really went into creating such a brilliant demonstration of mental manipulation. But in an odd way the fact I would seriously doubt his skill as a magician, and become convinced the trick is real, demonstrates how well the trick was executed.

And nature is exactly the same. What a testament to nature’s amazing presentation that so many walk away convinced that what they see happening each day, before their very eyes, is completely impossible without magic.

Communication Interference

In the most simple communication models, you have a single sender, a message (usually represented as an arrow pointing to the receiver from the sender), and a single receiver represented. As communication becomes more complicated, so do the models. One component that can be added to the model is something called “interference.”

Interference can be anything, including more obvious things like loud noise in the environment, or less obvious things like poor communication skills on the part of the sender, or an unconscious personal bias in the mind of the receiver. If the message received is not the message sent, as intended by the sender, there has been some kind of interference–also sometimes called distortion–that you should be able to identify.

Part of religious indoctrination includes inputting interference into a person’s mind by instilling bias. For example, a child who grows up in an area and family where racial hatred is pervasive has a much greater possibility of being, himself, a racist, than someone who is not raised in that environment. He’s unlikely to want to be friends with people in the despised races and to have an unfriendly attitude toward them. He probably will be a bit more dismissive of any research that indicates his reasons for hating are unfounded–he may not even bother to consider it. Additionally, he may fight against any legislation that would result in greater equality and social acceptance of those he hates.

If you’re going to have a dialog about racial equality, having it with this particular person comes with a load of baggage you’ll have to first get past that is “interference.” Your message will not tend to be heard clearly, but rather through a filter of misconceptions and prejudice about what you’re saying–even before you speak a word. This means that communicating rationally with this person will be an uphill climb, with no guarantee of successfully communicating your message at the summit. It means the person who wants to dispel the racial hatred has a hard row to hoe, a great cost of time and effort, with a real possibility of failure at the end. And this assists indoctrination efforts as well, because who is going to want to invest a lot of time and energy with a good probability of failure at the end? Better, in an individually selfish way, to leave this person in his racist delusion. And yet, would any advances against racism have been made if nobody had decided to carry the gauntlet, inch by painful inch, up that hill?

Still it is a demonstration of the walls that indoctrination can throw up against reason and good judgment. This is how indoctrination makes use of interference to help maintain its hold on the adherent.

I explain this because I recently watched a dialog between Alister McGrath and Richard Dawkins, where I noticed a very frustrating level of interference. There was one question that Dawkins presented three separate times, that was never resolved by way of any relevant answer from McGrath. McGrath even stops and enlists the sympathies of the film crew to ask if they can move on to the next question, since he has already answered this one. However, the crew’s consensus is that they’re unclear on his answer as well. And McGrath seems, in all fairness, genuinely confused. McGrath certainly answered “a” question; however, he failed to answer the question Dawkins asked. And he really could not tell the difference in his head between what he was “hearing” and what Dawkins was “saying”–although, to me, and seemingly to the crew as well, the question was simple enough to understand.

In Christian fundamentalist indoctrination, there are a lot of presumptions systematically taught that are intended to head off questions the young Christian might receive by people who aren’t Christians. I recall when I finally learned about other religions, for example, the doctrines were so vastly different than what I’d been taught in Sunday School that I remember alerting our preacher that I’d read some Buddhist literature–written by Buddhists–and it was not true that Buddhists “worship Buddha,” as had been stated repeatedly from the pulpit. I thought I was doing a good thing, enlightening him about a truth. But rather than showing any interest in what I had discovered, he admonished me for having read these things without proper oversight. And even in my late teens or so, I recall thinking there was something very wrong with his response.

What if, rather than read a book, I’d have talked to a Buddhist? During the entire dialog, I would be thinking, “This person worships Buddha”–even though I’d never spoken to a Buddhist in my life or read a scrap of Buddhist literature. I’d simply been told. And that’s what the people who indoctrinated me into Christianity hoped I would believe. They, in turn, probably had never read any Buddhist literature or talked to a Buddhist, either, and had read only Christian literature describing Buddhism. I assume this because even the most cursory reading of just about any Buddhist foundational text demonstrates the assertion is false–or at best an exaggeration of what a Buddhist would describe as his belief.

Often we get this question on our e-mail list: “Why don’t you ever talk to any really intelligent or educated apologists?”

When we get these letters from theists, the obvious shock is that the person asking us to do this is unavoidably asserting that the average Christian person is not intelligent–since we nearly always talk to and about average Christians who engage us on the program.

Beyond that, I’ve been spending a lot of time these days watching theological debates that involve theists of some clout, on many levels of the spectrum–church leaders, mega-church preachers, and most recently this civilized Q&A between Alister McGrath and Richard Dawkins.

Let me just note that I had argued myself out of theism long before I knew who Richard Dawkins–or any other atheist author–was. I deconverted on the weakness of theism’s merits, not on the strength of any atheist’s arguments against the existence of god. And for a few years, after I first heard about Dawkins, the descriptions of him as an arrogant, condescending, anti-theist, ass prejudiced me against even wanting to read his literature or hear him speak. My first encounter was when I finally broke down and read God Delusion–where I dispelled my own “Dawkins Delusion.” I couldn’t have wished for a more patient, well reasoned and fair address of theism than what Dawkins offered. And the first time I finally heard him speak, I was actually shocked by the mild and disarming tone of his voice and the relaxed collectedness with which he expressed even the points on religion he described as most objectionable. He often pauses to think about his phrasing before speaking–even in mid-sentence–a habit I should surely cultivate and employ more often. In this discussion with McGrath, you can almost see the gears shifting in his brain as he considers “How do I put this in an inoffensive way?” What comes out is, more often than not, very gentle compared to how many atheists might well have phrased it.

McGrath, for his part, is every bit as genial, and even more enthusiastic, in his expressions. On several occasions when McGrath spoke, I shut my eyes and thought, “Listen. Really listen and try and hear what he means.” I wanted to see if McGrath would offer some clue to his beliefs–as an educated and respected theologian. I sincerely wanted to understand what he believes and why. But after finishing “Part 15 of 15,” posted on Youtube, I had failed. After listening to McGrath explain his position, uninterrupted, in a conversational style, for his part of approximately an hour and a half, I still can’t tell you what he believes or why he believes it. And if this eloquent, well mannered, educated and willing theist can’t offer an explanati
on that makes sense, what hope does that average theist have?

Initially, my desire was to do an analysis of the entire debate, detailing where the communication interference was happening every step of the way. But, the length of my input regarding the first question alone was so long that I understood immediately I was too ambitious. I may do a full breakdown in sections at some point, but for now, I’m going to deal only with the central question of the dialog that would matter most to atheists: the reasons for belief.

There were many points in the footage where I thought, “OK, I understand what you’re saying, but wouldn’t that raise this other question or problem?” And as I thought these questions, McGrath would finish, and Dawkins would ask them for me. And I would be glad, because I wanted to know how McGrath resolved these issues. I wasn’t hoping for a fail. I was hoping for a resolution from McGrath to something for which I was unable to imagine a resolution.

Oddly, when McGrath would be asked to further explain some point of his stated position, it often sounded as though he was negating, or at the very least mitigating, everything he had previously asserted. I was left with a feeling that whatever I had learned from him in his prior explanations was now being described, by him, as either “wrong” or “unimportant.” In the end, I was left confused about which parts I was supposed to carry away as consequential or correct about his position on faith and god. Did I misunderstand his meaning? Did he not say what I thought he had just said?

McGrath begins by explaining his background growing up in Ireland as an atheist. He sees religious violence and equates it, understandably, with religious differences. He also says he studied Marxism and natural sciences. In response to Dawkins’ request for an explanation of how he moved from atheism to theism McGrath responds, “I began to rethink things. I began to realize they weren’t, perhaps, as straightforward as I thought. And certainly it was at that point that I really began to feel that Christianity offered a better way of seeing things and making sense of things than I’d imagined in the past.”

When Dawkins asked, “What kind of reason, what kind of evidence do you use to support your faith?” He was asking the same question we ask time and again on the show: Explain what you believe and why you believe it. I would assume that whatever McGrath offered next would be the underpinning of his belief. Here was his chance to give the evidence and reason behind why he decided to become a theist. This was an edge-of-my-seat moment, to be sure.

McGrath started out rationally enough. He noted that not all of our beliefs are based upon what we might consider hard evidence. When I measure the distance from one wall to another, my belief that the room is 10-feet wide is based on solid facts. However, someone’s belief that their spouse is stopping to put gas in the car on the way home, may be just as strong, and even perhaps just as right, but not as fact-based. Our brains are constantly testing the consistency of the reality in which we live. And it certainly makes determinations based on many different levels of evidence about what it will accept as true, and what it will not.

In order to function, depth perception, the length of the room, is important. Having some concept of how far things are from one’s self and where they are in relation to one’s self is fairly integral to the existence of any sighted person. But whether a spouse is gassing up the car may be something one cares not at all about. By and large, in most day-to-day scenarios, the main thrust of pressure put upon a person to care about their spouse’s fuel situation, would be pressure only from within. We really can ask, “Does this matter to me? Do I need an opinion on it?” We aren’t called upon in life to consider all questions equally–or at all–or to make conscious decisions about truth values on all propositions.

This means that if my spouse tells me he is stopping by the gas station on the way home to fill up his car, I don’t have to believe it, or even consider if I believe it. I can merely accept it’s what I’ve been told, and go about my life. If he forgets to fill up the car, if he changes his mind during his commute–nothing is lost. And if someone asks “Where is your spouse?” I can say, “He said he was stopping off to get gas on the way home.” I don’t have to assert “He’s at the gas station,” although it’s unlikely anyone would fault me for asserting it and even believing it was true, based only on my spouse’s word.

So, with any proposition we are presented, we can believe, not believe, or believe the opposite. I can accept my husband is at the station (believe it), not have an opinion on it (not bother to believe it), or believe he’s not at the station (he forgot, changed his mind, was waylaid, or lied). And McGrath understands this, when later in the discussion he explains the following (emphasis mine):

“I think that one of the big questions one has when one tries to make sense of anything that is big, for example, ‘what is the meaning of life?,’ ‘Why we’re here?’ things like that, is that there are many explanations. And inevitably this means we have to try to do what Gilbert Harmon described as being fair to the best explanation…We have to make a very difficult judgment: ‘Which is actually the best of these?’ And the real difficulty…is that evidence takes us thus far, but when it comes to a number of competing explanations, it is extremely difficult to have an evidence-driven argument for those final stages…I believe faith is rational…It tries to make the best possible sense of things. But in the end it has to move beyond that, saying ‘even though we believe this is the best way of making sense of things, we can’t actually prove this is the case.’ And therefore, although I believe faith is rational, in that it can give us the best possible case it can give, there is a point at which it goes beyond the evidence. And it’s at that point…that your concern that it might be irrational…comes into play.”

Yes, in fact, that is the point at which the concern it becomes irrational comes into play. To be fair, Dawkins prefaced his question, with a statement saying that he perhaps has not given sufficient attention to how religious people might use the term “faith” differently than he does. However, his question was, again, “What kind of reason, what kind of evidence do you use to support your faith?”

McGrath offered an explanation, I suppose in one way, of how he uses the word “faith,” and how it relates to reason and evidence; but I have to admit his answer seems to demonstrate an interpretation of the question I would never have arrived at. At the end of his answer, he hasn’t really told me anything I don’t already know, and, really, anything anyone else doesn’t already know, either. Surely he didn’t assume Dawkins was asserting people never draw conclusions without iron-clad evidence? Any nation that has courts understands there are times you could be forced to make decisions without benefit of conclusive evidence. Surely, McGrath knows someone as intelligent as Dawkins is not asserting it is impossible for a human to draw a conclusion without conclusive evidence? That would be a idiotic assertion, indeed, from anyone–but most especially so from a literate and educated person.

The question, I assumed, was a request for McGrath to explain specific evidence and specific reasoning that has led him to draw his conclusion–to become convinced where he was once skeptical–“a god exists.” And no matter how many times you read his answer above, you will not find that offered or explained.

Carl Sagan once shared a story about a question he was asked regarding whether he believed in the existence of extra-terrestrial life. He replied that there was currently no evidence to support that conclusion. The reporter pressed and asked something to the effect of “What do you think in your gut?” Sagan responded that he didn’t think with his gut, and that it is fine to hold off drawing conclusions until there is sufficient evidence available to support a conclusion. Sagan, who strongly supported efforts to seek extra-terrestrial life, here admitted that while he held it was true such life was possible–perhaps even probable–he would not extend belief to “it exists,” until he saw that conclusion was demonstrated by evidence–presumably when such life was actually discovered.

I absolutely concede that I could hardly live my life without some attempt to draw conclusions without conclusive evidence, on occasion; but compared to the comparatively limitless conclusions I draw based upon solid evidence every millisecond of every day, conclusions based upon insufficient evidence are actually relatively rarely required to be drawn. I hardly have to know “what is the meaning of life?” or “Why am I here?,” in order to live my life, or even enjoy the life I live. I can safely say many people live and die and never find any answer to those questions–perhaps never even consciously ask them–and lose never a night’s sleep over it. Try and kill such a person, however, and you’ll see firsthand how much they value their own life–even if they can’t explain to you what their life “means.” Truth be told, if there is some cosmically imposed meaning, the fact people have been arguing over the answer for millennia is near enough an indicator that there is no clear answer–and yet we all continue, somehow, to go on living our lives–many of us enjoying them–in spite of that.

Interesting as these questions are, are they “necessary” to answer, as McGrath asserts? If I know I prefer to live rather than die in most situations, and I extend that assumption to others in order to do what I can to mold a generally pleasant society, but I then miss out on the cosmic meaning–does it matter? If there is a cosmic meaning, and we don’t know what it is–how can we answer the question of whether it’s beneficial to know it? In fact, I can just as well consider that such questions are as near unanswerable as any questions can be, and go on using my reasoning skills–god given or not–to figure out what sort of life I would like to live and try to live it.

If I’m a generally good and kind person–would finding out there is a cosmic mind that has a plan, which is that people should be good and kind–make a speck of difference? Alternately, as a generally good and kind person, if I stumbled upon a cosmic plan that included I should blow up a building filled with people, I would be highly unlikely to comply–so that would make not a speck of difference in my life, either. There could, I suppose, be a god who would wish to punish me for not completing the proper sacrifices, or praying in the wrong direction, or for thinking the wrong things; but unless I have some really compelling reason to think such a thing exists–the details of what it expects of me never become any more important than what alleged alien abductees describe as their experiences–both wonderful and horrific–aboard spacecrafts.

But read McGrath’s answer again, and note the areas I have highlighted. He presses that these questions are necessary to answer–and he equates the question “does god exist?” with those questions that demand a conclusion be drawn. But, it isn’t one of those questions that requires a response. We aren’t in a jury box being told a man’s life and society’s safety are in our hands, and our decision on insufficient evidence must be determined. “Does god exist?” may have implications for the believer–once the mantle of belief is taken up. But until belief is merited, questions related to what happens after that belief are unimportant. The question “does god exist?” has no greater significance before you believe it than the question “do aliens exist?”

Certainly if either proposition is true, it could be life altering. I don’t wish to be kidnapped and violated by aliens any more than I would wish an eternity of hell upon myself. I don’t wish my children or friends to be maltreated by gods or aliens, either. And if I believed aliens were abducting humans for experimentation, I’d be up in arms demanding some sort of protections from my society or government. But until I believe, it matters not at all in my life. The believer may assert it matters in that I’m not wearing a tinfoil hat in order to avoid mind control by the aliens–but really, that’s him overlaying his perspective as a believer onto me. I don’t do anything in my life where I first consider, “Now, since I don’t accept aliens are abducting people, how do I wish to handle this situation?” The question of abductions is not a question that demands I deeply consider whether or not I believe it’s true. And the question “does god exist?”–whether believers assume horrific consequences or not–is no different than that to someone who does not yet believe.

What this means is that the end leap of faith McGrath describes is not required. And what that means, is that it is not a reasonable leap of faith. It is not, as Josh McDowell also asserts, “evidence that demands a verdict.” If I were in a jury box and forced to decide, then yes, I must do my fair and level best to make the most rational decision with whatever evidence is presented. But there is no such pressure applied to the question “does god exist?”–outside of whatever pressure indoctrination has pre-inserted into the adherent’s brain.

Not only did McGrath fail to provide any specific reason or evidence for his particular faith, he failed on a general level to explain what sort of reason he applies, because the sort of reason he describes is not reasonably applied to this particular type of question. The final “required” leap of faith, in the area of religion, he has not justified, only asserted.

Thankfully, but not surprisingly, this doesn’t escape Dawkins’ notice when he explains it is this final leap–not supported by rationality or evidence, and not required–that he would describe as the employment of “faith.” I would assert not only faith in a conclusion, but faith in a pre-existing prejudice that the conclusion was already very likely true in the first place; otherwise, why would the question even have mattered to McGrath any more than the question of alien abductions?

I’d finally like to hit on McGrath’s statement that “faith is rational in that it can give us the best possible case it can give.” This is nonsense. Anyone who holds any belief, no matter how ridiculous, can give us “the best possible case” they can give. That in no way makes their belief “rational.” As a joke, I sometimes invent conspiracy theories on the fly–putting unrelated groups and events together to assert one is privately colluding to produce the other. It’s amazing how many reasonable-sounding arguments you can create for absolutely fabricated assertions. Often, others will join in to add their “evidence” for the conspiracy–laughing as we build upon it. We actually can put together explanations for these fantasy conspiracies that sound reasonable. But we’re just making it all up. And our “rational” explanations are not at all likely to be true. But,
if rational can be defined as “making the best case possible,” we’re absolutely being “rational”–but also, no doubt, ridiculous.

Again, I really only addressed one small segment of the dialog here. If I have time in my future, I’ll address more. But clearly there is, throughout these videos, a huge communication divide–a gargantuan level of interference. McGrath seems unable to hear and understand what Dawkins is even asking. And I’m left wondering, is an intelligent theologian merely a person who makes nonsense sound better than most theists can? Is he merely someone who puts forward inarguable realities we might all agree with, sprinkled with unsupported assertions, and who fails to address the questions being asked?

Is that what it means to debate an educated and intelligent apologist?

Revised Texas Social Studies Curriculum

Thomas Jefferson was involved in producing the Constitution of the United States. Fortunately, he left us clear writings as to the meaning of the Establishment Clause—the clause that forbids government involvement in religious matters that would mean government showing favor to one religion over another.

Our neighbors “across the pond” often write to us to express their amazement that while their church is very much part of their state institutions, it is hardly a force of any consequence, whereas in the U.S., they hear we have actually undertaken an experiment in secular government, but are inundated by religious influence and intrusion to a degree they find unbelievable and shocking. They ask “why?” We answer, “we’re not entirely sure.”

I don’t know what makes one state-involved religion relatively benign—as is the case in some modern European nations—and what makes religion a force for death and human rights abuses in some other regions of the world. But I’m willing to wager that if a definitive answer to that question is ever found, it will involve quite a lot about paranoid fear and also something about religious fundamentalism, which is involved with feelings of near certainty in the face of inconclusive—someone less generous might say “ridiculous”—evidence to support unjustified conclusions. Actually, this attitude is often the root of paranoid fear. We have all observed, as well as heard, that “the truth has nothing to fear from investigation.” But poorly justified “truth,” has a great deal to fear from free inquiry and open debate; and, so, protecting such “truth” actually requires some level of suppression of evidence and contrary thoughts. And when I say “some level,” with regard to protecting religious ideas, I shouldn’t need to explain what “levels” that includes.

The “wall of separation” was described early on by a Baptist, Roger Williams. He viewed the wall as a protection of private practice of religion. And, no doubt it does protect religious freedoms—which many religious people daily demonstrate they are either unable or unwilling to understand. Later, the “wall” was described by Jefferson to mean religion’s influence in politics—a prohibition against religious involvement on the secular side. Really, these are not two sides of a coin, but two ways of describing one side only: No religion may call “shotgun.” They must all ride in the same seat as far as the government is concerned. The problem, missed by many, is that in a world where each person carries their own personal and unique concept of “god”—you can’t so much as pray to a “god” with governmental endorsement without stepping on some toes—not merely those of the godless, but those of other religious people as well, who don’t share your personal views on religion. For example, what of those who would pray to the “gods,” instead? It really is best for everyone—religious or not—to allow free private practice and not issue government decrees or endorsements of anything regarding religion or religious worship, whenever it is not an absolute dire necessity to intervene against oppression, both on behalf of religious citizens, as well as on behalf of those they have been known to oppress.

Recently, and unsurprisingly, the SBOE in Texas decided to downplay Jefferson’s role in American history, and include, rather, a list of others who influenced American history and thought, including one, John Calvin, who was a man, among many others, involved in the Reformation. First let me say that there is no doubt the ideas of the Reformation—of which Calvin was certainly a part—have influenced American thinking in the realm of religion to this day. There is some suggestion he also influenced capitalism and democracy, although whatever his idea of “democracy,” it would have clashed considerably with just about everything represented by our Constitution, if his actions and writings constitute any indication. Still, I must admit that, religion being the powerful mechanism it surely is in the U.S. today, impacting religious thought is no small matter. I think it’s fair to say religion in our country would not be what it is today without Calvin’s influential ideas within the Reformation. However, to read that as complimentary would be to miss my meaning entirely.

Some of Calvin’s fine thoughts still in circulation include the following:

1. God’s absolute sovereignty:

Just as the Taliban promotes, whatever your god asks you to do, obey without question—no holds barred. And frighteningly, just like the Taliban, Calvin believed that anyone who didn’t accept the “truth”—as he understood it—deserved execution. Free speech? No. Open, public dialog and debate? No. Capacity to criticize religious thinking? Again, no. Just as, for want of a sense of humor, a rabid mob of Muslims became intent on murdering a Dutch publisher, Calvin saw little reason to allow anyone to criticize what he knew was god’s intent here on Earth—and live. In fact, in response to a fellow theologian’s criticisms, he wrote:

“Servetus has just sent me a long volume of his ravings. If I consent he will come here, but I will not give my word for if he comes here, if my authority is worth anything, I will never permit him to depart alive.” (1)

For the record, we get a lot of “ravings” e-mailed to us at AETV. But I have yet to hear anyone involved with our program suggest, even as a joke, that we ought to consider silencing these people for eternity. Honestly, they are some of the greatest sources of humor on the list—if, perhaps, not also somewhat tinged with a sad and pathetic quality. Pity and humor seem a more appropriate response to “raving” than murderous impulses.

But back to Calvin, who, it turns out, was able to make good on his word. Servetus—who was a man of some scientific accomplishment in addition to a theologian—was burned at the stake—along with his books, it should be noted—for “heresy.” Ironically, put to death by Calvin’s supporters, who were, as labeled by a differently thinking church authority, simply another brand of “heretic.” And also ironically for one of his ideas being that infant baptism was incorrect—a position most protestants would today agree with. When Servetus was facing trial, and possible death, for his ideas, Calvin compassionately wrote:

“I hope that sentence of death will at least be passed on him; but I desired that the severity of the punishment be mitigated.” (2)

By “mitigated,” Calvin did not mean sentencing Servetus to 100 hours of community service instead. He meant that he preferred beheading to immolation. And he demonstrated this preference as well when he consented to the beheading of Jacques Gruet. To be fair to Calvin, though, Gruet was guilty of having written a letter which, I’m sure it was demonstrated, “threatened god,” as well as god’s emissaries here on Earth. And there can be no doubt of Gruet’s guilt, as he made a full confession—under torture.

2. Total depravity of the human condition:

The Wikipedia entry states: “The term ‘total’ in this context refers to sin affecting every part of a person, not that every person is as evil as possible.”

I’m grateful to have this clarification. Just so we are all on the same page, it’s not so much that human beings are totally evil, as that every part of every human being is polluted with evil.

This doctrine is, itself, perhaps arguably, the most “totally depraved” contribution to the world stage religion has ever supplied us—especially as it is taught to children as soon as they’re able to grasp the concepts involved. For one person to believe such a ludicrous and dysfunctional concept about himself would be merely shocking. For many to believe such a thing undermines humanity and society, and can only be combated wit
h as much real education as we can unrelentingly hurl at it.

Like many marketing schemes, religion invents a problem, exaggerates it to frightening proportions, applies it to as many as possible (in this case everyone), then sells the solution at a hefty individual and social price. The problem it invents in this case results in mistrust of one’s corrupted self, of all one’s corrupted neighbors, and even of one’s corrupted children and parents. And when an idea like this catches fire, anyone who rejects it can only be suspect of being so utterly corrupt they cannot see their own corruption. That person—the one saying humans are basically alright for the most part—becomes, unbelievably, the threat to social harmony and cohesion. What a backward and perverted social perspective. But yes, it certainly has influenced American culture, I must sadly concede.

3. Predestination

Predestination is not, strictly speaking, “determinism.” However, they have a bit in common. If anything drives unavoidable fate, it is determinism. If god drives it, it’s predestination. There is certainly an irony to theists who accept this doctrine claiming that without god they would have no reason to go on living. But beyond the humorous aspects, the obvious problem in this idea is that anything and everything that occurs can be defended with divine preordination—from 9-11 to any dictator’s divine right. Combine this with number 1 above, and you have the perfect recipe for brutal politics. And I daresay that number 2 only functions to dismiss critics of the institution produced by 1 and 3, out of hand.

Calvin had all sorts of other wonderful and interesting ideas, including some about Jews, which his supporters can only defend by saying he may not have been as bad as some of the other anti-semites of his day. Still, it isn’t exactly anything to brag on:

“I have had much conversation with many Jews: I have never seen either a drop of piety or a grain of truth or ingenuousness—nay, I have never found common sense in any Jew.” (3)

My main objective in all of this is to demonstrate that a man like Calvin would openly oppose our current Constitution in the U.S., where we actually allow open public dialog and debate, and we allow free and unhindered expression of religion—by anyone, no matter what they believe, or don’t.

As I have admitted already, we have examples of the church and state living, relatively speaking, harmoniously in some regions of the world. However, we have other examples where church and state, relatively speaking, demonstrate lethal and oppressive combinations. And in those states, what do we see? We see staunch believers who adhere to the three Calvinistic concepts listed above, for which the man is most remembered. Considering the continued efforts of Christian fundamentalists—admittedly influenced by Calvin—to affect political power in this nation—why on Earth would anyone assume they’re not interested in religious impositions upon society? What would be the basis for assuming this well organized group of religious zealots is fighting for political influence with the noble goal of preserving a religious freedom we already enjoy—rather than a goal of imposing religious oppression by instituting self-serving, government-sanctioned religious privilege?

By all means, feel free to teach children about Calvin and Calvinism and his influence on American thinking in our schools. Be sure to teach them, as well, how extremely lucky we are that Calvin’s relaxed attitudes with regard to comingling religious and state authority, to purposeful deadly effect, were ultimately not embraced by this nation. In fact, they represent, eerily and precisely, the same views driving the terrorist actions with which we are waging war in the world at this moment: God is sovereign and demands the death of anyone who criticizes Him or His messengers.

I wonder whether that will be included in our new Social Studies Curriculum Standards here in Texas when Calvin is mentioned? Like the fundamentalist-groomed children in science classes “challenging” overwhelming scientific consensus, one wonders whether free-thinking children will raise a hand to ask whether it is, in fact, true, that Calvin promoted executing people for expressing their ideas and questions? And, if so, isn’t it rather a boon that we escaped a number of the man’s toxic political influences, if not his religious ones?

I’m happy to say the church in the U.S. no longer burns people who don’t agree with them. But it is impossible to miss that this protection is offered, thankfully, by secular laws imposing on religiously prescribed dictates, rather than any divine prohibition. It is, in fact, quite fortunate we did not take our cue from the Bible—or Calvin’s view of it—when it came time to author our national laws and Constitution.

Thankfully reason prevailed, once again, over religion. But the price, as always, is eternal vigilance.

Notes:

(1) Drummond, William H. (1848). The Life of Michael Servetus: The Spanish Physician, Who, for the Alleged Crime of Heresy, was Entrapped, Imprisoned, and Burned, by John Calvin the Reformer, in the City of Geneva, October 27, 1553. London, England: John Chapman. pp. 2.

(2) Calvin to William Farel, August 20, 1553, Bonnet, Jules (1820–1892) Letters of John Calvin, Carlisle, Penn: Banner of Truth Trust, 1980, pp. 158–159. ISBN 0-85151-323-9.

(3) Lange van Ravenswaay, J. Marius J. (2009), “Calvin and the Jews”, in Selderhuis, Herman J., The Calvin Handbook, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., ISBN 9780802862303 (translation from the Dutch, Calvijn Handboek, 2008 by Kok, Kampen).

Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!

This Sunday we’ll be examining some hymn lyrics. The background will be orthodox Christian doctrine: That man is faulty and requires salvation. The price chosen and dictated by Yahweh is execution/blood sacrifice of a perfect human. Jesus, sent from god, is that sinless human who represents the “spotless lamb” so often sacrificed by Hebrews in antiquity. His torture and death are intended as compensation to Yahweh, who otherwise would refuse to tolerate a flawed human being in his presence (in Heaven). So, Yahweh appeased himself by having humans offer up the bloody human sacrifice of Jesus to Him. And Yahweh is now willing to allow humans into His presence, so long as the humans believe this doctrine and agree they have failed to the point that only execution would be sufficient justice. The upshot is supposed to be that Jesus was brought back to life a few days later—as a sign that you, too, can come back from the dead and live forever with god, since Jesus did the dying for us all and paid the price for our “sin.”

The selected lyrics that follow represent the relevant parts of hymns that “celebrate” this doctrine and are commonly sung in pews across America. Next time you’re in a church, pick up a hymnal and give it a read if you want to see how Christians view their own beliefs.

“Amazing Grace”
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

“Alas! And Did My Savior Bleed?”
Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

An interesting point about this lyric is that I found a Web site online that changed the final line of that verse to “for sinners such as I?” They expressed the decision as so:

http://www.drurywriting.com/keith/wretch.worm.htm
>Basically we think of ourselves as fairly nice people who became Christians and added meaning to our lives
>There are far more choir members singing songs of self-esteem than Reformers singing songs of total depravity. Since we’ve already rejected their “worm theology” we just ignore their warnings. We continue to preach a happy face doctrine of self esteem.

What I found particularly interesting about this was that they did not change any of the other lyrics in this hymn, which still holds that humans are so unacceptable, in god’s opinion, that only execution could possibly appease Yahweh as compensation for their present sinful state. So, I’m not a worm, I’m actually a basically good person that god will only accept if someone is executed in my stead. Here are more lyrics from the same hymn, that they don’t feel any need to alter, to demonstrate my point:

Was it for crimes that I had done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

So, they agree that whatever they’re “guilty” of requires someone to be executed, and that’s justice. But they’re “good people”—and were “good people,” even before they “became Christians.” Everyone clear on that?

“Not All The Blood Of Beasts”
Not all the blood of beasts
On Jewish altars slain
Could give the guilty conscience peace
Or wash away the stain.

But Christ, the heav’nly Lamb,
Takes all our sins away;
A sacrifice of nobler name
And richer blood than they.

Believing, we rejoice
To see the curse remove;
We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice,
And sing His bleeding love.

“Nothing but the Blood”
Oh! precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Nothing can for sin atone,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
Naught of good that I have done,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

And just in case you don’t know how happy a human sacrifice and an execution can be, here’s a little reminder:

“Calvary’s Stream Is Flowing”
From that dear cross where Jesus died,
Calv’ry’s stream is flowing;
From bleeding hands and feet and side,
Calv’ry’s stream is flowing.

With life and peace upon its tide,
Calv’ry’s stream is flowing;
Sweet blessings down the ages glide,
Calv’ry’s stream is flowing.

What could be more of a cause for exuberance than the image of “sweet blessings” gliding down a streaming tide of blood flowing from a condemned man’s body as he dies in agony?

What could, indeed. Perhaps the image of diving into a pool of blood, fed by a stream of blood flowing from the mountain upon which a man was executed, to wash yourself clean as “snow”?

“It Cleanseth Me”
There is a stream that flows from Calvary,
A crimson tide so deep and wide.
It washes whiter than the purest snow;
It cleanseth me, I know.

No other fountain can for sin atone
But Jesus’ blood, O precious flood!
And whosoever will may plunge therein,
And be made free from sin.

But bear in mind that god only demanded this brutal compensation because of his great love and mercy—but you could never deserve it. After all, what you deserve, again, is death. That’s why you need to be willing to sacrifice anything and everything in your life and in this world, in order to show Yahweh how grateful you are for his loving mercifulness:

“When I Survey The Wondrous Cross”
His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

“How Can I Look On Calvary’s Cross?”
How can I think of all He bore—
The shame, the thorns, the pain,
And unrepentant go my way
To pierce His heart again?
Forsaken in His darkest hour
By all, except His God,
Shall I deny my blessed Lord,
Who died to lift the rod?

Let me interrupt this one for a moment to clarify that is “the rod” you should be beaten with, instead. And how could we go on without noting Jesus wasn’t forsaken by his god–the same god that dreamed up this whole execution/human sacrifice as his best-ever Plan of Salvation.

No, no! I cannot traitor be
To Jesus, King of Love,
Tho’ sinner steeped in guilt I am,
His mercy I will prove;
His blood on Calv’ry’s cross was shed,
To save e’en such as me;
O Jesus, now accept my all,
And draw me close to Thee.

And who could forget this timeless classic?

“The Old Rugged Cross”
On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.

In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.

Yes, the beauty of an implement of torture and execution. So easy to appreciate.

Believe me, there’s more. Much, much, much more. This is only a small sampling. And on Sunday, even what I offer then will still only be a small sampling. But I will warn you, it’s going to be pretty well “more of the same” of what I’ve posted here. On Sunday, it won’t be so much any new horrors, as just hammering the same horrors over and over and over again. Because that’s part of
indoctrination: Repeat, repeat, repeat. And the point will be to make it abundantly clear that this is not about selecting a few objectionable hymns out of thousands, but that this is a common theme of hymns. This is orthodox Christian doctrine. And for those unfamiliar with fundamentalism, this is how they describe their beliefs within their church walls. This is how they view these concepts. And I can’t stress enough how “happy” many of these tunes are, as they go on about pain, human sacrifice, death and bathing in the blood of an executed, innocent man, to cleanse souls. And worst of all, they describe this to children as the most magnificent example of love and mercy in all of human history.

This is “the story” they defend.

How to Read Mythology, 101

All of us understand that fables are not to be taken literally, and it’s an absurdity to expect them to conform to criteria imposed by reality. When a friend starts a funny story with, “A turtle walks into a bar and asks the bartender for a beer…” You don’t stop him, incredulous, and ask him to explain how in the world a talking turtle could exist. You understand it’s just a story, and you immediately suspend your expectation that this story should conform to the rules of reality as you understand them.

The Problem
What we often see with religion is a confusion where the believer suspends his expectation that the story conform to reality, but also asserts the fable is literally true and does, or rather must, literally, conform to reality.

While AETV viewers are well acquainted with the humor value of watching this on an individual level, it’s a bit unbelievable when you realize how many individuals seem to adopt this mode of misreading mythology, regularly, with regard to their respective religions.

Some things have come to the TV-list that drove home for me, with clarity, something most of us have long recognized: These people read fables as though they’re reality. We all know what it means to read “literally.” And as the joke example shows, we also know how to read non-literal tales. But our conversations with theists become confused with regard to currently regarded religious mythologies, because it’s read as literal by some, or even by many. So, while there is little debate when we talk to another modern human about how to read a story about Apollo’s firey chariot, we encounter substantial and very real communication interference when we expect everyone to also understand that modern religious mythology requires the same type of reading.

Consider this a “How to Read Mythology 101.”

What Prompted this Post
I replied to someone on the list who asked where we got the idea that the character of Jephthah was revered in the Bible.

The main character in the tale, Jephthah, is a Judge, a title briefly given to Hebrew leaders in the days before the tribes were ruled by kings. He was also a warrior. And one day during battle the Bible says the Spirit of the Lord came upon Jephthah and he made a deal with Yahweh that if he won the skirmish, he would sacrifice to Yahweh the first thing that came out of his house to greet him upon his return.

Jephthah is victorious. And upon his return, the first thing out of his house to greet him is his beloved, only child—a daughter. Jephthah keeps his promise and sacrifices her as payment to fulfill his obligation to Yahweh.

Many, many, many centuries later, in the New Testament book of Hebrews, chapter 11, Jephthah is heaped with praise as a man of surpassing faith, of whom the world is not worthy.

Many Christians are vaguely familiar with the Old Testament story of the sacrifice, but not the brief mention in Hebrews where Jephthah is held up among the mythic heroes of Hebrew antiquity, revered as icons of faith to Yahweh. If you ask Christians about their view on Jephthah, you’re likely to get back a response like, “Who?” When you tell them, “the guy who sacrificed his daughter to god in the Old Testament,” if the person knows the standard Christian Bible stories, they’ll then know who you mean and, in general, reply that Jephthah was a rash man whose story serves as a cautionary tale about not making rash promises. In other words, they perceive Jephthah’s story as a symbol of a negative social value about how not to behave. And if you ask them what else Jephthah was known for, most of them won’t have a clue.

But if Jephthah’s role in the Bible is to serve as a symbol to others representing how not to behave, that leaves the New Testament reference in Hebrews as a very baffling statement. He’s clearly highly praised, not just as a good person, but a great one, and as someone who demonstrates what the rest of us can only hope to achieve in regard to a relationship with Yahweh.

The author of Hebrews assumes at least two things about his readers: (1) that centuries after the story was written, his audience will still recognize the name of “Jephthah.” And (2) they will recognize him as a positive literary symbol of surpassing devotion to Yahweh, who should be praised and revered for the faith demonstrated by his actions. The character of Jephthah then, unlike today, was apparently not perceived as a fool, but as heroic. His was not, according to the author of Hebrews, a cautionary tale, but an inspirational one.

Reading the Fable of Jephthah
The character of Jephthah illustrates particular positive values held by ancient Hebrews and early Christians, many of whom were also practicing Jews. And for a person to read the story with a positive central character is not hard if we read it using a different value set:

Jephthah, moved by the god, Yahweh, during battle, promises Him He can have anything from his house—bar nothing. And by not naming the payment price, rather than being rash, he’s being as magnanimous as any adherent could possibly be. Jephthah is declaring that Yahweh may name His price for his victory on the field. Rather than leaving it to random chance, which the “cautionary tale” reading asserts, Jephthah is leaving it to divine providence, blindly trusting and submitting to Yahweh’s choice, a reading that aligns perfectly well with what the author of Hebrews asserts. The character in the tale isn’t expecting to sacrifice some insect to Yahweh, some bit of vermin that crawls across his tent’s threshold; he’s expecting Yahweh to choose something of value from his household and usher that thing out the front door the moment he returns home—thus revealing to Jephthah Yahweh’s required price for his Yahweh-assisted victory.

The fact it is his daughter, if we use this reading, is no chance, and no surprise, it’s the price god was told he could dictate when the bargain was struck: Whatever comes out my door, I will sacrifice to you. You ensure my success in life, and I will withhold nothing. And Yahweh, when it comes to sacrifice, always demands the best.

Yahweh is never satisfied with weak, sick, thin nor flawed “sacrifices.” Killing off the things you don’t care about isn’t “sacrifice.” Sacrifice meant then what it means today, times a thousand—giving up something you’ll really miss. And while our own tales of self-sacrifice demonstrate similar commitment, there is a marked difference in degree between “Gift of the Magi” and “Abraham and Isaac.” There is a difference between self-sacrifice for love, and demanding sacrifice from someone else as a demonstration of their love. We all want to give the best we can to those we love; however, Bible stories carry this value to emotionally manipulative and brutal extremes, when compared to our current values.

Cultural Myths Reflect Cultural Values
Faith in the Old Testament did not mean what it means today. Today we have an idea of “faith” in the existence of god; but in the Old Testament, people like Abraham actually spoke to and even interacted with Yahweh directly, so there was no “faith,” in the modern sense, required. Faith to the Hebrew heroes meant belief that Yahweh was trustworthy. This belief was demonstrated by blind devotion, obedience, and sacrifice to an authority who would, in return, allow them to prosper materially.

Operating using our modern Western values, it would be considered “bad” to be in a relationship with someone who demands sacrifices from you as a demonstration of your love for them. Surely, one would have to wonder if the person doing the asking really loved in return? Our culture, despite our adoption of Hebrew myths into our religious sphere, does not consider that value honorable outside of religion. And even within religion, we reject that the cha
racter of Jephthah was praiseworthy, in defiance of the declaration of the author of Hebrews, whom we tend to simply overlook—as did the theist who wrote to us asking how we could possibly believe Jephthah was praised in the Bible.

Themes Throughout
Many Old Testament mythological themes are repeated throughout the Bible. And the story of Jephthah is one of those. The theme of sacrificing the “only child” is not isolated to Jephthah. Who hasn’t heard the fable of Abraham and Isaac?

I relayed this fable as well in my reply to the theist who contacted us. In this fable, one day god decides to “test” Abraham and tells him to offer up his beloved, only child, Isaac as a human sacrifice. Abraham offers no protest to Yahweh, who makes preparations to carry out Yahweh’s instructions.

I want to stop here and note another value difference between modern society and ancient Hebrew values. Many modern Christians will assert that if god asked them to do such a thing, they would not believe it was Yahweh, since He would never ask a person to execute such a horrific act. However, note that the author of the “Abraham and Isaac” tale does not seem to have anticipated that objection, and certainly did not feel a need to write that into his plot. Just as the author of Jephthah has him issue no protest when his daughter comes out to greet him, neither does the author of Abraham and Isaac feel any need to make Abraham protest that “the real” Yahweh would never command or allow such an atrocity. Both men accept that this is within the character of Yahweh to ask, and they both submit without question, and are later both praised in Hebrews as men of great faith—examples to us all.

The author of Hebrews says, in chapter 11:17-19, “By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had received the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son…Abraham reasoned that God could raise the dead, and figuratively speaking, he did receive Isaac back from death.”

In other words, the interpretation at the time Hebrews was written was that Abraham believed Yahweh intended to have him execute Isaac as an offering. And Abraham was intent on doing it. But even with the caveat that the early Christians had reasoned Abraham must have thought Isaac would be magically resurrected (this assumption is not included in the Old Testament tale), if this act were portrayed in a modern story, it would still violate our modern values. Even if the modern character believed the dead could be brought back to life—would we then really consider that murdering his own children to appease someone else’s insecurity about his level of devotion would be praiseworthy, rather than sick and twisted? The action in a modern tale could be arguably interpreted as ever so slightly mitigated—perhaps? But praiseworthy? It is something we might expect from a story about a powerful dark sorceress given over to bloodlust and cruelty.

But again, the myths simply reflect the values of the culture. And cultural values change over time. In our case, we have become more independent and compassionate, and less brutal. Even Disney changed the endings of Andersen’s stories to give them happier resolutions. And movies like V, where heroes commit morally ambiguous acts in order to struggle against symbols of evil, raise discussion. In our myths, we like our heroes, generally, to wear the white hat and be always in the right. They kill symbols of evil, the “bad guys”—not children.

Ultimately, however, an angel stops Abraham and god declares that because He sees Abraham won’t withhold the thing most dear, god is satisfied and he doesn’t have to continue with the commanded infanticide.

You Know You’re Reading a Myth When…
But here is an interesting point. When I included “Abraham and Isaac” in my response to the theist who contacted us, I asserted Isaac was Abraham’s “only child”—that he was simply one of the “sacrifice your only child”-themed myths demonstrated in the Bible. Why is that interesting? Because Isaac was not Abraham’s only child. Abraham had a first born son named Ishmael.

My first instinct was to cringe. How could I have made such an obvious error? I knew about Ishmael. And if I were a fundamentalist, I’d jump all over this mistake: Isaac’s story is not an example of the “only child,” because he was not an only child—how much more of a problem could I be confronted with? But more importantly, in considering the myth—why did my brain assign Isaac to “only child” status in this story?

Frankly, it is because Ishmael does not count, if we are reading the myth and not the literal content. Myths are symbolic, just like certain dreams. And as anyone with PTSD can tell you—if you have stress in your real life, it often leaks into your dreams. If we are experiencing something in life that leaves us stressed and feeling like we’re not sure what to do, we might have something called the “maze” dream that will recur. Let’s say we have the following three dreams during a week:

First Dream: I’m on my way to a doctor’s appointment and I get to the building. I get on the elevator and realize I don’t know which floor I’m supposed to go to. In the dream I am going floor to floor trying to find some sign to tell me where this doctor’s office is. I’m getting increasingly frustrated and concerned that I’m missing my appointment. But no matter where I go or what floor I try, I can’t find the office.

Second Dream: I’m driving down the highway, and I take a wrong exit. I try to get back on the highway, but I end up back on heading the wrong way. Meanwhile, I keep seeing signs I don’t recognize, with place names that don’t match anything on my map. The roads are getting more convoluted with twists and turns, and I’m getting upset.

Third Dream: I’m thirteen, and hiking in the woods. It is getting dark and I need to get home. But when I turn to go back down the path, it looks unfamiliar. The trees are not the same species, there is more underbrush, and a creek that wasn’t there before. I desperately try to find the way back. And suddenly I’m aware of something ominous in the woods with me—a wolf or some such thing. I’m beginning to panic.

My counselor asks me if I’ve had any troubled recurring dreams, and I respond that while I’ve had a number of dreams this week that troubled me, they were all quite different—one was about hiking, one was about driving and one was about a doctor’s appointment. And yet, from a “theme” perspective, the dreams were identical events. And a person who reads a fable as literal reality will not understand the message, the meaning, or the actual significance of the tale. In a word, he will entirely miss the point.

In the fable of Abraham, Ishmael is the son of a slave, not of Abraham’s union with his wife. And Ishmael is sent from Abraham’s house as a youth, and never mentioned in conjunction with Abraham again until he attends Abraham’s funeral. As a “son” to Abraham, Ishmael has no meaning. Isaac is the “only son” in the only sense that matters in a myth. If I had the “dream” of Abraham and Isaac, and also the “dream” of Jephthah, those would constitute “the same dream”—embodying the same theme.

Now, while I see this as reasonable, I could not help but think that any fundamentalist would never accept this. They would assert I’m working up an elaborate excuse for my error. To those fundamentalists, I offer the Hebrews passage above from your own New Testament, where the author calls Isaac, as well, Abraham’s “only son.” But more importanly, the author of the original tale, as it comes to us today in Genesis 22:15-17, agrees with my interpretation as well. This is god’s reply to Abraham, spoken through the angel that stayed Abrah
am’s infanticidal stroke: “The angel of the LORD called to Abraham from heaven a second time and said, ‘I swear by myself, declares the LORD, that because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will surely bless you…’”

The character of Yahweh, in his omniscience, also seems to have forgotten Ishmael. If I am accused of error for distorting the meaning of the story—so must be the author of Genesis, so must be the author of Hebrews. The fact is that from a mythic standpoint, Ishmael is simply has no meaning as a “son” to Abraham.

He was only an element in the stories meant to account for some of the other neighboring Hebrew tribes. Where did these similar tribes come from? From Abraham as well—but from an inferior mother—Ishmael, the surrogate slave son. So, with some neighboring tribes, it appears the Hebrews admitted or believed some ancient kinship—but still asserted their heritage as the superior bloodline. And Ishmael is the fable accounting for that in the same way Romulus and Remus, twins raised by a she-wolf, account for Roman roots.

The story is legend, which is how it needs to be read. And the authors themselves support this reading. Is it based on some ancient personages? Maybe. But in our time, the idea that the tales are literal histories—undistorted facts—is simply not demonstrated as intended by the authors. We observe the theme of the “sacrifice of the only child”—in a story where the “only child” simply cannot be literally read.

Repeating Themes Flag Symbolic Language
And we see it as well in the New Testament, where Yahweh, the god who, we are told by modern Christians, reviles human sacrifice, executes his grand plan to bathe the word in the blood of the greatest human sacrifice ever made: The sacrifice of Yahweh’s obedient, beloved “only child.”

Once again, primed with stories from the Hebrew past, which show us that killing your only child is the best way to show you care, Yahweh demonstrates his merciful love of humanity (who, not to be forgotten, in no way deserves it), by offering up Jesus as a human blood sacrifice. That’s his master plan of salvation: offering Himself a brutal and bloody human sacrifice, born out of historic themes of infanticide, somehow intended as a demonstration of tenderness. I don’t know whether it’s more amazing people believe this or that they even are capable of understanding it as coherent or reasonable in the modern age? This type of dysfunction would be patently condemned anywhere else in our society outside of religion.

While some may protest Jesus was a god—it’s clear from abundant Biblical references that Yahweh was the father, Jesus was the son, and that Jesus was still described repeatedly as being human. From 1 Timothy’s description that he “appeared in the flesh,” to Galatians’ assertion he was “born of a woman,” there’s no reasonable denying the humanity of Jesus described in scripture—even if, as a modern literalist, you assert he was also in some way god.

This is only one of many repeating themes in the Bible that should signal we’re reading a myth. There are many others to choose from. In fact, Isaac demonstrates another—the usurpation of the first born son. But I’ll save that for another post, since I’m overlong again already.

We Can’t Please Everyone

It’s pretty obvious that Jen and Russell received mixed reviews on the theist guest experiment. I will let the viewers continue to figure out their feelings about it.

But the event also triggered some e-mail responses, and one in particular was from “a fan of the show” who also notes he is “a Christian…currently in school studying Apologetics and Philosophy.”

The gist of the letter was that a pastor really is not a good representative to interview about Christian doctrine and belief. Just to clarify, “if you guys are going to put Christians on the show to represent Theism I would really like to see a trained apologist or philosopher…the Pastor has degrees in councilling and phsycology, which is fine but would not represent Christian Theism nearly as good as those who are actually trained in philosophy and apologetics.” [sic]

I replied to him on the list, and was asked if I would share the response on the blog. So, here it is:

First, thanks for writing, and sorry for the delay in a response to your letter. Since I wasn’t a co-host on this particular program, I didn’t want to jump in too quickly to speak for Jen and Russell. But they have spoken for themselves at our blog if you would like to see those discussions:

http://atheistexperience.blogspot.com/2010/01/post-show-thoughts-for-110.html

Having some history with the program, and the benefit of an insider’s view, I can share a few thoughts on how I perceived your note initially. I was surprised by it.

Our show is available to educate the population about atheism, foremost. We welcome callers to contact us with questions or differing view points so we can talk about what an atheist is, or talk about what they believe and why. This would seem like a fair format—however we take pretty constant criticism for this each week. One criticism we often receive is that it is wrong and cruel to talk to Christian laymen live on the air, because they come across as stupid and uneducated. Believe it or not, we get this criticism from both atheists and theists, pretty equally, and both are just as blunt in calling our callers “uneducated” and “stupid.” We generally respond that our callers are just regular believers who call us, and even we don’t insult our own callers on that level—except on the rarest of occasions. I can’t say “never”; but I can say I, personally, never have referred to any caller as “stupid” or “uneducated.” But this is what people claim to think of Christian laymen—who are generally the theists who contact the program.

Next, we get criticized pretty consistently, and in line with the above criticism, for not having good Xian representatives on, even though we’re an atheist program and have no requirement to represent the broad majority religious view (which is represented in pretty much most aspects of media/society without our assistance). Why don’t we put on a preacher or someone who understands these things better than the stupid “regular” Christians who call—is normally along the lines of how this is expressed.

So, for reasons expressed at the blog, Russell decided to bring on a professional, educated man who also works as a leader in the local Christian community. He hosted an actual pastor. And what do we get almost immediately? A letter saying a pastor with an education, an actual Christian leader, doesn’t “count” because he doesn’t have the “right” education to be up there with amateur counter-apologetic hobbyists. Remember, please, that nobody on our show is a “professional” counter-apologist with any sort of counter-apologetics degree. So, the pastor was not in the company of anyone on that set who could even begin to claim his own level of professional credentials to talk about his religion. In fact, of the hosts, Jen and Russell may have the least background with Christianity. Just being a professional leader in the Christian community should have put the pastor at a decided advantage over either Jen or Russell in talking about god or Christianity.

Next, what struck me was that you say you are a student of apologetics, but nothing [in your e-mail] offers us any thoughts on what this Pastor said that was wrong or could have been better stated. You don’t “correct” any errors he made about your beliefs. And you don’t counter Jen and Russell’s questions yourself—even though you say this is your personal area of education. The reason this strikes me as something that stands out, is that whenever any of the co-hosts on our program makes a misstatement about some fact in science, we are immediately barraged with letters from science students and amateur science hobbyists offering not only criticism but, more importantly, correction of the error. If the pastor did a poor job of explaining how your doctrine works—please feel free to represent, and explain what he might have presented differently or better.

Finally, I was surprised by your note, because it begged an important question to me: If regular Christians aren’t able to understand or explain Christian beliefs correctly, and a paid, educated Christian in a position of leadership within the religion isn’t able to understand or explain Christian beliefs correctly, and a student of theology and apologetics in these beliefs can’t offer constructive critique of someone else’s flawed responses about his own doctrine and beliefs as a Christian, who, then, has any justification to believe this doctrine—since it’s obviously outside most people’s capacity to even understand it correctly?

And that’s basically all I had to say about that.