Give the Devil His Due: The Screwtape Letters (C S Lewis)

C S Lewis. The Screwtape Letters (1942) A re-read. The letters tell the story of a recent convert to Christianity that Screwtape wants to recapture for Hell’s delectation. Unfortunately, despite his excellent advice on how to exploit the weaknesses of human nature, his nephew Wormwood fails. The object of his devilish affections dies in a bombing raid after achieving another step on his journey to full discipleship.
     Ah, those weaknesses in our nature. They’re all caricatures or dark inversions of our strengths and virtues. Lewis understands that only too well. For example, the false humility of wanting “just a little toast and tea” instead of the three course dinner on offer, which imposes extra work on the host. The apparent self-abnegation disguises the actual selfishness of the perpetrator. Lewis also understands the difference between genuine pleasures and their counterfeits as labelled in the list of seven deadly sins. Enjoying food is good. Gluttony is bad. The book is worth reading merely for these and many other psychological insights.
     For Christians, the extra dimension of theology adds more insight. For example, Lewis believes that pleasure and joy are divine gifts. The Devil can’t produce anything like them; at most he can misdirect the desire for these gifts. Simple pleasure is beyond the Devil's power. Thus, Screwtape loses his temper when contemplating the innocent pleasure of a human splashing about in his bath. How dare the Enemy endow this abominable mix of flesh and spirit with the ability to enjoy mere sensations! At best, the Devil can pervert pleasures, or encourage over-indulgence, or shift the focus from the pleasure itself to the ego, thus making them means instead of ends.
     The letters also hint at Hell’s political ideology, which bears an uncomfortable resemblance to fascism and other totalitarianisms.
     One of Lewis’s best. I’ve read it several times now, and every reread reveals more subtle insight and wisdom. Recommended. ****

Religion (Lapham's Quarterly 03 01)

 Lapham’s Quarterly 03-1: Religion (2010) Excerpts from practitioners, theologians, sacred texts, anthropologists, philosophers, and critics of religion. My take-away: the testimony of religious adherents and the observations of the critics add up to several principles. 

     First, religion is species-specific behaviour. All known human societies have practiced some form of religion. Religion consists of customary rituals performed on certain occasions, some of which are tied to the annual seasonal cycles.

     Second, stories are told to explain the religious significance of the rituals. When writing was invented, these stories were written down, and some came to be seen as god-inspired or -dictated sacred texts. All societies claim that their religious stories are true, while those of rival religions are more or less superstitious or worse. This attitude I label religionism. My experience and the occasional survey data indicate it’s the most common form of religious expression.

     Third, religion is usually transactional: Appease or please the god or gods of your religion, and you will have a good life.
     Fourth, the major religions all include the same range of religious expression, from literalist fundamentalist religionism to mysticism. Most adherents to any given religion are indifferent to mysticism, but become hostile when mystics tend to ecumenical acceptance of all expressions of faith.
     For me, the most important inference from these widely varying expressions and critiques of religion is that faith is primary, religion is secondary. Religion works best when its adherents know it’s a limited, incomplete, and at bottom incoherent attempt to express the faith that animates it, which is that the Universe makes some kind of sense, and that human life has some purpose.
     Recommended. ****
     Footnote: for more, see Karen Armstrong’s books about the development of religion.

Waugh on God, and Kershaw on Hitler.

 

 Alexander Waugh. God (2002) Waugh has assembled all the passages from the Talmud, the Bible, and the Qu’ran in which God speaks for himself, plus a wide range of scriptural and other comments about God. This amounts to a portrait, both incomplete and inconsistent, which is no surprise. By definition, God is beyond human understanding, so any attempt to assemble a coherent description of the Deity is bound to fail.
    Nevertheless, worth reading, if only for the salutary reminder that what one may think the sacred texts and religious authorities said about God isn’t like that at all. ****

  Ian Kershaw. The End: The Defiance and Destruction of Hitler’s Germany 1944-1945 (2011). A thorough and thoroughly depressing account of the end of the 3rd Reich. Once again, I’m astonished at the denial of reality by men (and some women) who could or would not understand that their fantasies of Aryan glory were at best mere superstition. There were of course many people who disobeyed Hitler’s order to fight to the death and capitulated rather than suffer the destruction of their towns and villages. But as the Reich went under, many Nazis went on a last murderous and nihilistic spree of revenge and annihilation. On the Eastern Front, much of the fighting continued in a desperate attempt to stave of the vengeance of Russian troops and gain time for evacuation of troops and civilians. Many SS units fought rather than accept what they expected to be a harsh and unforgiving imprisonment.
     Apart from the unnecessary suffering inflicted on soldiers and civilians by Hitler’s refusal to capitulate, three other themes impressed me. First, the fantasy that Nazi heroic resistance to Bolshevism would be recognised and celebrated by future generations. Second, the Reich leadership’s stubborn belief that resistance would buy time during which the Alliance would disintegrate as the Western powers realised that they had a common enemy in Stalin’s Russia. The Alliance did disintegrate, but not until Stalin imposed his rule on Eastern Europe some months after the end of the war. Third, the belief by Doenitz and his rump government that they had some leverage for negotiating peace terms. Overarching the whole is the thesis that Hitler’s intransigence caused the self-destruction of the Reich.
     Kershaw’s account of the end of Hitler’s Reich seems much shorter than its 400 pages (plus 164 pages of notes, bibliography, and index). He manages to present this complex multi-stranded story clearly. For me, it was a page-turner. ****

A rational Faith: Tom Harpur's Would You Believe?

     Tom Harpur. Would You Believe? “Finding God without Losing Your Mind” (1996) Harpur suffered a crisis of faith when he realised that a literalist theology doesn’t work. He eventually developed a mystical belief in a loving God that created this universe and has used evolution to create humankind, which will evolve a cosmic consciousness of some kind. That is the best I can do in interpreting this wide-ranging and frequently muddled account of Harpur’s journey towards and justification for a rational faith.
     Like many theists who harbour or began with a literalist theology, he wants scientific support for his beliefs. This desire in part explains his misunderstanding of evolution and other sciences. He refers to the symbolisms and metaphors of the sacred texts, but he stops short of asserting that symbolism and metaphor is the only possible language for the kinds of meaning that religions provide. “Whereof one cannot speak, one must be silent”, said Wittgenstein. Metaphor is an attempt to break the silence. It will always be personal and limited. But it’s all we have to assuage our hunger for meaning and purpose.
    Harpur’s intends his book to help those who’ve jettisoned religionism and literalism. It’s easy to read. But for many readers, it will be a temporary resting place on the journey. I suspect that Harpur saw it that way himself, but the tone of certainty bothers me. **½

Suppose God wrote a memoir....

     David Javerbaum. The Last Testament: A Memoir by God (2011) 1. In the beginning, I took a lunch with Daniel Greenburg of the Levine Greenburg Literary Agency. 2.For the future of print was without hope, and void; and darkness had fallen upon the face of the entire publishing industry. (Prologue, 1-2) Thus begins this Memoir; and if you have a good knowledge of the Bible, you will recognise allusions to its contents not only here but throughout the book.
     The God who writes this memoir is the God of the Bible, as understood by Javerbaum, and probably others, since he was a writer for Saturday Night Live at the time this book came into being. It’s a well-done and often subtle satire of those who believe in a God that resembles a human being, a conclusion that follows from the assumption that humans are made in the image of God.
     Certainly, the more literalist believers will find much to be offended by, but I think for those who understand that the Bible is one of many attempts to make sense of the astonishing creativity of the Universe that brought us into being, this book will be at least as thought-provoking as it is entertaining. If you have wrestled with questions of creed and theology, this book may suggest that most of those questions are unanswerable in St Augustine’s sense. The trick is to recognise which are mere verbal puzzles, which are matters of substance, and which are the consequence of ill-understood and mistaken assumptions.
     Recommended. A keeper. ****

Does God Exist? (Hitchens on God and religion)

Christopher Hitchens. God is Not Great (2007)
    Search online for “unanswerable questions”, and you’ll find many websites. You’ll also find a lot of nonsense. Many unanswerable questions are merely badly phrased. Or the asker doesn’t understand its terms. For example, Thomas Frey asks Why do logic and reason fail to explain that which is true? Let the confusing use of “explain” go, and parse the question as about the failure of logic to guarantee truth. Then the answer is that logic can guarantee only that a conclusion follows validly from its premises. Logic cannot tell you that the premises are true. Hence it cannot tell you that a conclusion is true. And that, to make a rather large jump, is why God’s existence is unprovable. So is God's non-existence.
    Does God exist? I don’t know what that question means. Does the Christian god exist? Which Christian god? What about the Muslim god? Again, which one?
     The question may seem clearer if we ask about the gods of polytheistic religions. Does Zeus exist? Aphrodite? Hermes? Etc? And what about Thor? Osiris? Believers in these ancient religions certainly believed these gods existed. Like believers in the monotheisms, they also believed that their god(s) could and would intervene in the natural world, and to one’s advantage if properly propitiated. It was very handy to have some god on your side.
    I think these days most people assume they are referring to the same entity as anyone or everyone else: a nature- or reality-transcending entity which caused this limited reality to come into being. Presumably, we all have the same concept in mind when we ask the question. That’s clearly not so. If it were, there would be no arguments about what "god" means, still less about what "god" wants us to do.
     It looks like the only answerable form of the question is Does this god exist? And the answer to that question is always the same: No. Because if God is transcendent by definition (as theists claim), and if you admit (as theists do) that God is beyond human understanding, then your and my concepts of God are so far from anything resembling adequacy that they are not even wrong.
    Which in turn means that any discussion about God's existence will be about the inadequacy of someone’s concept of God. This is the task that Hitchens has set himself, and he succeeds brilliantly. His discussion implies that what matters is not whether some god exists, but what your concept of God leads you or permits you to do. He notes the sad fact that religious people generally conceive of a god that allows (or more commonly commands) them to act on their worst impulses to exert power and control over other people. In a word, to commit evil.
    There is a difference between faith and religion. Faith (as its root meaning in Latin should remind us) is trust. Trust in what? In the most abstract and general terms, trust that our lives have meaning because we live them with our loved ones, and because we can understand and delight in the world. This faith implies, I think, that we ought to do all we can to prevent evil, and to comfort and help each other when natural catastrophe overwhelms us. How you express that faith is up to you. Most people prefer to express it in religious terms, and that's why faith is too often replaced with religion. We make idols of our beliefs.
    Hitchens uses “religion” throughout. I prefer “religionism”, by which I mean the attitude that one’s religion is the only true and complete account of who and what "god" is and what he/she/it wants from us. That attitude is the pride of a very clever animal asserting that it has god-like knowledge of good and evil. Hitchens might have parsed the Genesis story of the Fall as agreeing with his critique of religionism. Since he didn’t do so, I’ve done it for him. I’ll also note that Pride is considered the first and greatest of sins, which encompasses all others. Would that the religionists understood this.
    Worth reading. ****
    Footnote: Unanswerable questions are everywhere. Here are 60 of them. Some edits for clarity made 2019 11 15.

Humankind's Most Dangerous Invention: A Short History of Progress (Wright)

   

Pithy quote

 Ronald Wright. A Short Illustrated History of Progress (2006) A paperback version of Wright’s 2004 book, with pictures, and coloured pages with pithy quotes displayed in large type. The book doesn’t need these gimmicks, it’s compulsively readable. Wright’s thesis is that civilisation is a trap. He’s an archeologist/anthropologist. He uses “civilisation” to mean a large complex culture based on the domestication of plants, animals, and human beings. A civilisation is marked by hierarchies, administrative complexity, specialisation of work, politics, etc.
     Almost every civilisation we know of has ended destroying itself. The type example of this process is Easter Island, which hosted a simple civilisation which at its peak fed around 10,000 people, but which collapsed when the people focussed on making gigantic statues. The statues which were supposed to prevent what we would now call ecological collapse. It didn’t work, and when Europeans made contact with Easter Island, there were about 1,000 nearly-starving people and a couple of hundred statues left on a treeless, rapidly eroding hunk of rock. To counter the argument that Easter Island culture wasn’t really a civilisation and so cannot stand as a warning, Wright looks at the first city-based civilisation, Sumer, which did the same damage to its ecology as the Easter Islanders did. It just took them longer. The successors to Sumer pretty well all made the same mistakes: Assyria, Babylon, etc, now exist only in clay tablets and stone statuary.
     Jared Diamond wrote a longer (and gloomier) meditation on the same themes as Wright (whose book began as a series of Ideas programs on CBC). Wright’s book is a much better read,  Diamond’s book provides more data. They both come to the same conclusion: “Civilisation” is humankind’s greatest and most dangerous invention. If we don’t learn from past experiments, we’ll destroy our civilisation, too. Because it’s a world-wide one, the collapse will entangle a larger swath of the ecosystems on which we depend, and which we persist in either ignoring, or see as an obstacle to further progress.
     Recommended. ****

Another Serving of Interviews

     John Mortimer. Character Parts (1986) A follow up to In Character, and just as good. Mortimer had a list of standard questions, but willingly departed from the list if an answer suggested further conversation. The effect very often is that I would like to talk to these people myself, that they would be good dinner companions.
     As in the first book, I get the impression of a complete character with every interview, although rational reflection reminds me that I’m getting a performance. Two performances, actually, Mortimer’s and the interview subject’s, and very convincing ones. Still, some of the subjects seem to me nicer people than others, more aware of their own vulnerabilities, less sure that they deserved their successes, even while they sought them. Lauren Bacall, for example, or David Jenkins, Bishop of Durham. Others have arrived at some certainty about their place in the world, such as Graham Leonard, Bishop of London, whose lack of doubt is dangerous, or Lord Hailsham, First Law Lord, whose certainty about his ability to reason prompts him to change his mind when a question suggests a different take on a problem.
     I think both of these collections are wonderful historical resources. They also allow a wallow in nostalgia. I knew of almost all the characters Mortimer interviewed. But even those who were new to me reminded me of the 70s and 80s, a time when I took many things seriously that now seem to me have been mere bubbles on the surface of the river. ***

Karen Armstrong. The Great Transformation (2007)

 Karen Armstrong. The Great Transformation (2007) Armstrong traces the shift from tribal, localised gods, who protected and nourished their worshippers, to a wider ranging perception of gods, and eventually God as the source of all being, who requires his devotees to consider not only themselves but all humankind as members of one family. Although in the East the concept of God disappeared, the notion of a single human family, and a single moral law that binds us to each other, appeared at about the same time in all parts of the world.
     More precisely (although Armstrong doesn't say so explicitly), it appears at the same stage of cultural development: when the nomadic life of the herders gives way to the settled life of the farmers, which enables the rise of cities and states. These larger conglomerations of human societies necessitate the toleration of differing religions and world views. This tolerance leads to a more abstract and less transactional view of the deity, hence the development of the five major religions (Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam) which have far more in common than even their most enlightened followers generally accept.
      A thoroughly researched book, sometimes tedious in its detail, that reminds us that we are all the same species, and one way or another must find common beliefs and values if we are to survive what we have done to the planet and to each other. Armstrong's A History of God presents the same thesis in a shorter and more thematic form. ***

Fundmentalism and art

     A news item today (27 February 2015) reports on ISIS attacking Assyrian Christians, and destroying ancient artworks. Al Qaeda destroyed ancient art in Afghanistan. The Puritans defaced and destroyed religious art during the English Civil War. In Europe, Protestants defaced Catholic churches during the Counterreformation. The Nazis attacked what they called Degenerate Art. Maoists and Stalinists imprisoned artists who produced unofficial art. All kinds of fundamentalists have attacked literature and poetry and drama that they didn't like, often murdering the authors.
     And so on.
     Why do fundamentalists, secular and religious, destroy and deface artworks? Why are they so enraged by literature? One could write a lot of analysis about each case, pointing to doctrines, beliefs, attitudes and values. But it boils down to a very simple fact: Art records and expresses how someone knows the world.
     We understand an artwork to the extent that we are able to imagine being someone else. More than that, the artwork makes it possible to do that. Through art we can imagine different values, attitudes, feelings.
     And that's why fundamentalists hate art. Art is proof that it's not only possible to be different from you, but that it's inevitable.
     Fundamentalism is the inability to tolerate the diversity of humankind.

Tom Cahill. How the Irish Saved Civilization

     Tom Cahill. How the Irish Saved Civilization (1995) Cahill backs up his claim with an imaginative reconstruction of why and how the Irish adopted (and adapted) Christianity. St Patrick, a romanised Christian Briton, appealed to their Celtic gloom and sense of martyrdom. They had a tradition of killing a man as a sacrifice to the terrible forces that would otherwise overwhelm them. Jesus’s crucifixion was to them a confirmation of their sense of indebtedness to the gods; he was an analogue of the dying Gaul, a central sacrificial figure in their mythology.
     They also had a great sense of history, and a grand tradition of oral literature. Patrick taught them letters, and they used this new technology not only to record their own traditions, but even more to absorb the knowledge and traditions of the peoples over the seas. In this way they preserved classical literature and philosophy as well as early Christian theology and the scriptures. The adapted the Eastern practice of solitary hermitages into sociable groups of like-minded men (and women, and sometimes both), thus founding the monastic tradition. They founded monasteries all over Ireland and Scotland, and then moved south and east into England and Europe. They christianised Europe north and west of the Alps, and that’s how they saved civilisation.
     Cahill writes wonderfully well; he has the Irish/Celtic gift of smithing words. He quotes enough original sources and provides enough hard data that his thesis rings true. The book’s a history of the imagination rather than a history of ideas. In constructing it, Cahill reminds us that ideas without imagination are stillborn. Read it, you’ll enjoy it even if your skepticism is aroused. ***

C. S. Lewis. The Screwtape Letters (1942)

     C. S. Lewis. The Screwtape Letters (1942) Rereading these letters reminds me once again of Lewis’s clear thinking, and psychological insight. He understands that moral theology is about our thoughts, feelings, and behaviours. So this book is not only a wonderfully clear exposition of Christian moral theology (and theology generally), it is also a wonderfully astute exploration of how we behave, and how we delude ourselves about the motives and consequences of our behaviour. It’s also a very topical reminder that Satan is the Father of Lies: most of Screwtape’s letters deal with ways of deflecting the “patient’s” thinking away from truth into confusion, which is the first step towards falsehood. It’s not really Wormwood’s fault that he’s incapable of the subtlety required to do this well. He lacks experience, and seems a bit of an enthusiastic dimwit. This dooms him to become food for the elder demon, for in Hell only results count, not intentions and abilities. Rather like “objective testing” in schools.
     One of my favourite theological insights (based on a psychological one) is that Satan is incapable of producing pleasure, joy, happiness, and contentment: these are gifts from God. The best Satan can do is produce imitations, and delude us into thinking (not feeling, please note) that these imitations are the real thing. Nor is Satan capable of pleasure and joy himself. Poor devil! **** (2010)

R. Buckman. Can We Be Good Without God? (2004)

     R. Buckman. Can We Be Good Without God? (2004) Of we can. Buckman argues the case with material from a variety of sources, but his main argument is for atheism. He does a good job, but his style is somewhat breathless and often pedestrian (a curious combination, come to think of it). The book would have done better in half the length, and its two main theses might have been more gracefully argued in medium length essays. He points out that religion is a social good, but is often perverted into an excuse for evil. Persing’s work indicates that the right brain is responsible for religious and spiritual experiences, which agrees with other research that it’s the integrator of experience and knowledge: seeing the whole picture could well lead to the kind of ideas we label spiritual. Because like all human propensities, religious experience and insight can be used for both good and evil, Buckman is inclined to argue that we should at the very least be as skeptical and critical of our religious impulses as of our other ones. Good advice. The book won’t convince the believer, but it may help him or her to develop a more thoughtful and empathic expression of it. Because of the style, only **½ (2010)

Shelby Spong. The Sins of Scripture (2005)

     Shelby Spong. The Sins of Scripture (2005) I’ve heard an interview with Spong (on CBC's Tapestry, with Mary Hines), and looked forward to reading this book. It says much that needs to be said, but I gave up on it about 1/4 of the way in. Spong’s writing is verbose and cliched; he’s much given to exclamation marks, too! * (2010)

Hilaire Belloc. Characters of the Reformation (1936)

 

    Hilaire Belloc. Characters of the Reformation (1936) Belloc was known at Oxford as a skilled debater, at one time chairing OUDS. Like all debaters I’ve ever known, he was more concerned with winning, with making his case, than with the truth. Like many people with superior intellects, he believed that what he thought was right because he thought it, and could concoct an argument to prove its correctness. Here and there allusions to maths and science indicate that he understood neither logic nor mathematics. In particular he didn’t, I think, appreciate the difference between a valid argument and a sound one. Add to this his prejudices, his either-or, black-and-white moralistic mode of thinking and belief, his writing skills, and you get a man whose version of Reformation history is, to put it mildly, more than a little tendentious.
     Belloc was absolutely convinced that Catholicism is the only true religion, and that a true European civilisation must be founded on the Faith (he capitalises all words having to do with the Catholic religion, even Prelate!) Thus, the reformation was a disaster, and all modern European ills were caused by it, or rather, by an indecisive outcome, in which neither Protestantism nor Catholicism won. Thus the Authority of the Church is everywhere disputed (what would he have made of Vatican III?). Belloc clearly wants to be told what to do, and to Obey. And he wants everyone else to obey, too.
     Anyhow, I enjoyed reading this exasperating book, such is Belloc’s skill. As history, it is far too narrow in its views, and makes no pretense at objective narrative. He also reveals a snobbery based on descent; he hates democracy, he calls Parliament the “committees of the rich” (whom he accused of using Protestantism as a cloak for their looting and robbery of Catholic Church lands and wealth, which is more than half-true), he wants Kings to govern as well as rule, and so on. A thoroughgoing fascist, in other words. However, according to the Wiki entry on him, he was horrified at the Nazi treatment of the Jews. In other words, he talked a good talk, but when it came down to cases, his humanitarian instincts took over.
     Nevertheless, the overall impression is that we are in the presence of a first-class crank, albeit a much better read one than most cranks. He did take a First in history at Oxford, after all. His family background may be one factor in his crankiness. His father was French, his mother was English. He spent most of his childhood and most of his adult life in England, and clearly thinks of himself as English. His English patriotism is more intense than most people’s; perhaps as a child he was reminded too many times that he wasn’t truly English.
     His undisguised belief in breeding (family) and “health” as signs of intrinsic superiority, and hence the right to rule, guides his descriptions: the characters he detests are described as diseased, dwarfish, deformed, deficient, etc. The ones he admires suffer ill health, have a good figure, have inherited physical quirks, are simple, etc. His argument is relentlessly ad hominem; in fact, ad hominem is the guiding principle of his argument. He claims that a person’s character is all we need to know in order to judge the results of his actions. And character sometimes seems to mean merely adherence to a creed.
     So Belloc must show that the reformers were evil and/or morally weak. More, he must show that those Catholics who compromised with the Protestants acted from moral weakness. He doesn’t go quite as far as condemning Richelieu in the same terms as he condemns Thomas Cromwell, for Richelieu was after all a Prelate, a Cardinal even. But on the evidence, Richelieu’s focus on making the French monarchy supreme in France was exactly the same as Cromwell’s focus on increasing Henry’s power in England. Belloc accuses Cromwell and the two Cecils of governing England “through” the monarchs they ostensibly served. Yet he says that what Richelieu did was merely a misguided focus on increasing French secular power instead of using France as a center of reestablishing Catholic supremacy. I think he misreads Richelieu; no, I think he deliberately distorts Richelieu’s career to support his thesis.
     Belloc even distorts historical fact: he claims that the Divine Right of Kings was a Protestant theory, devised to legitimise royal supremacy over the Church. But Divine Right predates Protestantism. It was the justification for insisting on absolute obedience to the king, whose legitimate claim to such obedience was affirmed by the Church. The Protestant Revolution attacked royal divine right as much as it attacked the papal supremacy. That’s why the Anglican Church, headed by the monarch, never became fully Protestant, no matter how wide a range of Low Church theology and practice it included. Many Protestant princes in fact had to suppress attacks on Divine Right in order to maintain their rule. Belloc’s distortions of history sound oddly from a man who took a First in history.
     An odd book. ** (2008)

What Would Jesus Do?

What Would Jesus Do?
      A meditation for the Interchurch Council in Blind River.
     Religion, like other institutions, goes through cycles of fads and fashions. A few years ago, we saw bumper stickers with What Would Jesus Do? Or the abbreviation WWJD? This question also showed up on buttons, on t-shirts, on hats, and much else. We don’t see that slogan much any more. Perhaps people have realised that it’s a radical question. If you take it seriously, it can change your life.
     So how does one answer this question? Seems to me, one thing we should do is look at what Jesus actually did. He didn’t do that many things. He preached. He told stories. He gave advice. He healed people. He wandered around with his friends, and accepted hospitality wherever he found it. He visited friends and acquaintances.
     And he got into trouble with the authorities.
     He got into trouble because he visited disreputable people, such as tax collectors, wine bibbers, and prostitutes. The respectable people were exceedingly annoyed by this habit, and used it as evidence that he wasn’t preaching true religion. Religion is for the right kind of people. People like us. People who don’t flaunt their bad behaviour. People who take care to obey the rules, and behave with decorum and good manners, and never, ever sin in public.
     But the respectable people were perhaps even more annoyed by the messages Jesus preached. In particular, they didn’t like the advice he gave. He told people that religion wasn’t about following the rules. It was about loving God and your neighbour. He told the rich young man that he should sell everything he had, give the proceeds to the poor, and follow him on his wanderings. He expected everyone who witnessed this exchange to follow the same advice.
     He told people that helping when needed was more important than observing the Sabbath. He not only told people this, he demonstrated it by occasionally breaking the Sabbath rules. He healed a man on the Sabbath, and scolded the respectable people who objected. Religious truth, whatever they thought it was, wasn’t about the rules, but about how they dealt with other people.
     He told people that what they did for the least important people they did for him. He told people that they should visit the sick, the poor, the prisoners. He said that if someone asks you for a coat, you should give him your shirt, too. If someone asks you to go with him for a mile, you should go with him for two. He pointed to the widow who gave a few pennies as more generous than the Pharisee who gave many dollars.
     He told the story of the good Samaritan to remind us that what matters is not whether someone deserves our help, but whether he needs it.
     What would Jesus do? That’s a question that’s supposed to guide us as we follow him. If we want to follow his example, we too should do what he did. It’s not easy. It’s not comfortable to help people we don’t like, or people that we think don’t deserve what we offer, or people that won’t thank us for helping them. But that’s what Jesus would do.
     That’s what Jesus did.
     2013-10-18
 

The argument from design

    Many people want to prove that God exists. A common argument (or proof) is to point to something designed and made by humans, such as a watch. These are obviously designed. So anything that looks like it's designed must have been designed, which means there's a designer. Natural objects such as flowers and bees, etc look like they've been designed, so there must be a designer. That designer is God.

 This is the "argument from  design", and it doesn't work. Actually, there is no proof of God's existence. And there is no proof of God's non-existence, either.

If you want to prove God's existence, then the general form of the proof will be:
1) If some statement about XYZ is true, then God exists.
2) The statement about XYZ is true.
3) Therefore God exists.

   There are at least three problems with this.

   ONE. The premise "The statement about XYZ is true" is either an axiom (an assumption), or else it is a theorem (a statement proven by reason). Either way, the argument makes God's existence logically dependent on or derived from some statement about XYZ. But for a statement about XYZ to be true (or false), XYZ must exist. So God's existence logically depends on or derives from the existence of XYZ. But that's absurd, since by definition, God's existence cannot depend on or derive from the existence of anything else. Hence, you cannot prove God's existence. QED.

   TWO: If the premise is an assumption, then the argument from design is circular. It assumes what it is designed to prove.The assumption is: "If something looks like it's designed, then it is designed; and if it is designed, there must be a designer." But if there is a designer, then things will look like they're designed. Therefore there is a designer. Therefore things will look like they're designed. Therefore there is a designer. Therefore... See?

   THREE: So you've proved God is the Designer of the Universe. Now what? What kind of God is this Designer? Did he design parasites, which can cause their hosts to die horrible and painful deaths? What about diseases that have wiped out millions of people, like the bubonic plague? Where will the claim that only God can design living things go when humans design and make them? Actually, humans have already done that.

   In other words, conclusions raise as many questions as they answer. Once you've proven something or other, it becomes a premise for further proofs. It becomes a basis for further questions. Some of those questions will not be the kind you wanted when you set out to prove your point. That's the way logic works.

   A local pastor once asked me to participate in a "debate" about the existence of God. I refused. I said than any true Christian will not worry about such arguments, since for a Christian "God exists" is a given. It's an axiom. It's one of those statements you use to prove things you want to prove. The pastor understood my point, but I don't know what he told his youth group.

   Of course, you need other axioms in order to get anywhere. And that's where the trouble starts. You can prove anything you want if you select axioms that produce your conclusion. Religious people of a certain kind just love proofs. Proofs mean that they are right and everybody else is wrong. And once you've proved that to your satisfaction, you can do whatever you want to those evil people who disagree with what you have proved is God's will.

   You don't have to start this process with God. You can go with Historical Necessity. Or the Supremacy of the Aryan Race. Or that Capitalism equals Democracy. Or whatever.

   Ideology is simply a religion without a god.

   2013-08-08

Ronald Weinland The Prophesied End-Time (2004)

    Ronald Weinland The Prophesied End-Time (2004) Weinland exhibits several of the characteristics of a crank, chief among them the claim that everybody else is wrong, an obsessive focus on a single main claim, marshalling of supposedly supportive evidence, misinterpretation of facts, misunderstanding or ignorance of relevant data, and an utterly arbitrary interpretation of whatever evidence he finds.  Weinland is a self-styled prophet. It seems God vouchsafed him a true revelation of hitherto hidden truths while he was on a Mediterranean cruise and passed the island of Patmos where John claims to have written his Revelation. The hidden truth is that the tribulation is at hand, and Weinland knows exactly when it will happen.
     The book is incoherent, repetitive, and only the kind of fascination one feels when watching a wreck kept me reading. Weinland joined the Worldwide Church of God founded by Herbert W. Armstrong. After Armstrong’s death in 1986, this organisation broke up into dozens of splinter groups, one of them being Weinland’s. In 2011, he was convicted of breaking the tax laws of the USA by siphoning off church cash for his personal use, which is a common failing of cult leaders. In 2012 he started jail sentence.
     I looked him up on the web; the rage and vituperation aimed at him by former fellow Armstrongites is amazing. Skeptics’ blogs are considerably more polite, since he is after all a garden-variety con-man and crank, not much different from dozens like him. Since 2004 he has prophesied the start-date of tribulation several times, the most recent being May19 of this year.
     The book was an experience that I don’t intend to repeat. For more about cranks and crackpots and how to recognise them:
http://www.skepticblog.org/2010/07/08/martin-gardners-signs-of-a-crank/
http://math.ucr.edu/home/baez/crackpot.html
     Although these pages deal with science crackpots, they apply just as well to theological crackpottery. Weinland's predictions rest on a goodly number of pseudo-scientific notions, which I think is always a sign of religious weirdness. It's rather pathetic that so many religionists want the imprimatur of scientific respectability.

Jan Karon Out to Canaan (1997)

     Jan Karon Out to Canaan (1997) Number four in the series. Tim has now been married about a year, Dooley is growing apace, and the Hope Home is operational. A mayoralty race, funded by Tim’s old nemesis Edith Mallory, who also wants to buy Fernbank and assorted other properties, provides what plot there is. Otherwise, people just chug along.

     Tim decides to retire, Tim and Cynthia take in Harley, when he is seriously ill, Lace Turner practically moves in to nurse her old friend, Winnie Ivey marries, as does Andrew Gregory (who buys Fernbank out from under the nose of E. M. in order to start a restaurant with his new bride from Italy and her brother), and so on. Tim gets a facial from Fancy Skinner, which turns his face green. Absalom Greer dies. There are assorted festivities. Buck Leeper returns to renovate the church loft into a suite of Sunday school rooms and begins renovating Cynthia’s house. He also falls for Pauline Barlowe. Barnabas the dog is nearly killed in a hit and run, Dooley does what’s needed to keep him alive until Oakley can operate, and calls Tim “Dad”. Tim decides to buy the rectory, using his mother’s inheritance. Tim and Cynthia have their first fight, but the sex is good (though very discreetly hinted at). So all in all life in Mitford moves along as it always has, with a few crises and slow and steady change. Religion plays a role, of course. It’s not as intrusive as in books two and three, it's more organically fused with the story, as in book one. Another pleasant read. **½ (2005)

Jan Karon. These High, Green Hills (1996)

     Jan Karon. These High, Green Hills (1996) Tim and Cynthia settle into married life. The plot meanders, as a good soap should. Tim and Cynthia are trapped in a cave, which leads Tim to a personal epiphany. Sadie Baxter dies soon after a birthday celebration in her honour. Dooley comes home apparently estranged from Tim and Cynthia, but that’s OK later. Pauline Barlowe, Dooley’s mother, is burned by her partner, and barely survives, but she and Dooley connect again. Lacey Turner enters Tim and Cynthia’s lives. J. C Hogan courts and wins the police woman. And so on.
     Karon avoids the dark side. Her evil-doers are all disreputable people who can’t cope with life; they drink and worse merely because they lack self-control. In other words, they aren’t good, middle-class citizens. If only they would pull up their socks and take responsibility for their lives, they wouldn’t do such awful things. In the previous book, there was a truly evil person, Edith Mallory, who wanted Tim for herself, and almost got him, because he’s too nice to stand up to her until it’s almost too late. And then he does it on behalf of someone else, not himself.
     But in this book, all the respectable people are good people. They may be annoying and irritating, but they aren’t bad. Since these books are heavy on religion and its beneficial effects on people, this avoidance of true evil is a failing. It may be that Karon is accommodating the tastes of her readers, for religion is more evangelical and less Episcopalian in this book than in the first one. I think the books would be stronger if they were darker. As it is, the religion is more set-piecy than ever, and the prayers even more of the grant-me-a-special-favour kind than before. The only exception to this is the incident in the cave, in which Tim undergoes a spiritual crisis that resolves his conflicted feelings about his father, and relieves him of his burden of the fear of not getting it right. Here, his prayer is a true communing with God, an opening of the self to possibility, and not a form of magic. ** (2005)