Carrie Prejean…or…We Have Gone Mad?

Let me see if I have this straight. We have a Beauty pageant contestant. A person whose primary requirement (whether we admit this out loud or not) is to look pretty. Ms. Prejean wisely desired to improve her chances in the contest. Does she study a new language? No. Does she increase her work-out routine? Perhaps. But most certainly what we DO know will increase her chances is to get breast implants!

Do you get that? We are discussing on the national stage the opinion regarding gay marriage from a woman who, in order to improve in her chosen profession thought, “Hmmm…the best way for me to excel here is to get breast implants!”

And we have Perez Hilton. A blogger. Who has occasionally appeared on such weighty Television shows as hosting “The Bad Girls Club Season 3” according to Wikipedia. I did not know there WAS a “The Bad Girls Club” show let alone one warranting a second or third season or a host. And this D-List celebrity asks Ms. Breast Implants an obvious question.

Now the world is all a-flutter over the question and the answer.

And Ms. Prejean has become a spokesperson for the National Organization for Marriage. How stupid have we become?

Is she qualified on Marriage because she is…well…married? Nope.
Because she has studied psychology and counseled married people? Nope
Done anthropological research on marriage? Nope.

She’s qualified because she got Breast Implants and bumbled through an answer in a Beauty Contest. Ow, Ow—my brain hurts writing that!

Or Bristol Palin. A spokesperson for Abstinence. What are Ms. Palin’s qualifications? Well…she hopes to finish High school….she is the daughter of a Governor and Vice-Presidential candidate…and…she…oh—she got pregnant for NOT doing what she recommends the rest of us do!

Seriously, if any of the 1000’s of “Bristol Palins” out there—the high school students who became pregnant--indicated they wanted to become a spokesperson for Abstinence Education we would chuckle up our sleeves and reply, “Why don’t you finish High School, first?” And think to ourselves, “…and maybe practice what you preach.”

But because Bristol is the daughter of Sarah, we ooh and aah at the idea. We debate it on the national forum. Because Bristol is a celebrity.

So, too, is Ms. Prejean. And Mr. Perez.

We have reduced ourselves to an age where “being a celebrity” is considered the ONLY qualification to do…well…anything! Do we want to know what anthropologists or scientists or economists indicate regarding providing help to African nations? Not really…what does Bono say? Does Liberty College invite psychologists and marriage counselors and experts in the field of homosexuality and marriage to speak? Who are they?...they get chest-endowed Carrie Prejean!

Richard Dawkins is a bright scientist. But they are a dime a dozen. Write a few books, do a few lectures, and for whatever reason fate smiles on some—he became a celebrity. Now, every single Christian apologist seems to think Dawkins is the full, final and sole word on atheism. Because he is so knowledgeable? Nope—because he has reached celebrity status and everyone knows being a celebrity is THE qualification to know anything.

America is obsessed with who Paris Hilton is voting for. What Harrison Ford has to say about the environment. Charles Bronson’s take on values. A woman has eight kids, and all-of-a-sudden I am supposed to be engrossed with every facet of her life—what car she drives, what food she eats, etc. Why? Because she is a celebrity. The singers who make it into the top Ten spot on American Idol play to throngs of 1000’s during their season. And in a few short months are asking the more relevant question, “Do you want fries with that?”

Worse, we watch people compromise their values, simply to be near and see a celebrity. Liberty College teaches people to be content with their physical selves. If some female told them how she had gotten implants to become the runner-up on a Beauty Contest, and she is a Christian, so can she speak to the student body—they would say, “Thanks, but no thanks.” But make her a celebrity…

Why do we care? The proper response to Carrie Prejean should have been, “So what?” A beauty contestant has an opinion. Big deal. Frankly her answer should have been lampooned as a hilarity. (“opposite marriage”??)

I’ll bet Mr. Perez regrets slamming her for that question. It made her a celebrity. It made her an “expert” in the eyes of the Public on the question of marriage. It gave her the ultimate qualification—being well-known.

Interview with an Atheist

The Barefoot Bum pointed out this person’s interview questions for non-theists and, of course, The Barefoot Bum’s response.

These aren’t questions intended to learn about the other person—they are talking points intended to argue about theism, and for that they are sufficient. But if you want to understand the other position—you have to first learn what it is saying. Live in their skin for a bit.

Why Can’t Christians get this right? Why must they always assume their own view of the world when asking these repetitive, boring questions?

“How can you impose morals on others?”
“Where did we get Free Will?”
“How does life have purpose?”
“If Christianity were true…”
“Is the most difficult thing about becoming a Christian the moral demands?”

Have we not answered these one or two (million) times?

What questions do you wish Christians would ask in these “Questions for Atheists?” Here’s a few off the top of my head:

1. You are in a High-School debate on the pro-theism team. What argument for God do you think is the strongest to put forward?

2. In America, non-theists are a distinct minority. Why do you think that is? Why do you think the percentage of non-theists is growing?

3. Why do you think atheists are distrusted in American culture?

4. As a Christian, we sometimes cringe when we hear another Christian say something. Like Pat Robertson. Or Fred Phelps. Is there an atheist who makes you cringe when you hear them speak? If so—why?

5. What do you think Christians “get right.”? What do you think they get wrong?

6. If you could have a Christian read three (3) books—what would they be?

7. Is there anything a local church could do that would make you want to attend at least twice a month?

8. What surprises you the most about Christians? The least?

When you saw only one set of footprints--I was off helping someone else

One Small Step recently wrote on How Far do you Trust God? This brings to mind something itching on my brain.

Last November, I was having some pain in my chest, so I scheduled an appointment with a doctor. (Which, for me, means I’m fairly concerned. I hate doctor visits.) They did an EKG, the doctor rushed in and said, “Take this aspirin. Chew it so it gets into your system faster. And here’s nitroglycerin, let it dissolve under your tongue.”

“Uh…sure. Doc, what’s up?”
“There was an irregularity on the EKG, and we recommend you go to the Emergency Room immediately.”
“O.K. It’s just an ‘irregularity’—right? Not like it’s an inverted T or anything.”
“Actually, it IS an inverted-T.”

This raised my concern level, of course. But only mildly.

“Fine. I’ll drive right over.”
“Frankly, we recommend an ambulance.”
“Well…I CAN drive, right?”
“Sure, but if you leave now, I want you to sign a form saying I recommended an ambulance, and you went against my orders.”

As lawyers, we do the same thing when we think clients are doing something pretty stupid and we want it in writing so when they come back and complain we can point out it was against our advice. A CYA letter, as it is called.

I got the message and received a quick trip in a siren-screaming ambulance.

Once at the hospital, though, the ER staff didn’t seem very concerned. We started Emergency Room Time—where minutes stretch to hours and nothing seems to happen. Occasionally a white-suited individual (could be a janitor for all I knew) would look at my EKG and grunt. I asked about the inverted-T, and they didn’t seem very concerned.

I felt like just another guy who ate a bad bean burrito and the nurses were secretly rolling their eyes at me. “Wimp…thinks he’s having a heart attack…” Started to plan my escape.

All of a sudden the room starting filling up with people.

Nurse One: We want him up to the Cath lab NOW!
Nurse Two: But we have to give him this medicine first—
Nurse One: No time, no time! We will give it on the way up.

Me: [a little meekly] Uh…what’s up?
Nurse One: The blood test came back. You had a heart attack. We are going to do a heart catheterization right now!

Now they were rushing me out of the room as quickly as possible. I liked the slow, “nothing happening” medical pace better than “Get out of the way, we need to get this guy somewhere RIGHT NOW” frenzy.

Once in the cath lab, the Doctor told me what he was going to do, and the staff was helpful. They looked like they knew what they were doing. I didn’t have time to google out “Catheterization” or look up my choices. I had to rely upon the medical personnel to be competent. They looked like they had done it before—it was reassuring.

I am informed of all the things that might happen—may have a stint put in, perhaps an angioplasty. Maybe even surgery if it is determined to be necessary. Yet I find myself curiously unconcerned. Detached, even. This was out of my hands, so I left it to the professionals to do what they felt was necessary.

As it turns out, while there is some blockage (due to age and genetics), nothing terrible was happening. The inverted-T was probably a bad read on the pad. The blood test was a false-positive. No big deal—discharged the next day.

The cardiologist started me on a course of medication (unnecessary, in my opinion) that I weaned off in a few months. Given a clean bill of health, and back on my way…

I can understand, going through that, how comforting the God-idea is. Life throws us some curve balls. Some unexpecteds. Some bad circumstances. Things out of our control. It is immensely encouraging to think, “No matter how bad this is, ‘someone, somewhere’ is in control, and is working to correct the situation. Make it better.” No one wants to see that puzzled look on their Doctors’ face. No one wants to hear, “WOW! That’s a new one on me!” We want, “Oh, I have seen that. Do this and that and your problem is solved.”

It is comforting to think, when you lose your job, “God” will help you find a new one. That “God” did this for some reason. Or when your child hurts, or when a loved one dies—that there is some Great Comforter who has YOUR interest at heart, and is doing everything in their power to improve the situation.

That’s nice. Makes funerals more pleasant.

But there is an undiscussed down-side. It becomes permeated in your being. “God loves you.” “God wants what is best for you.” “God has a purpose for your life.” “God has a will for you.” “God will give you direction.” And you hear story after story from other people how God found them the perfect job, the great opportunity, the wonderful mate, the career, the house, the pet, the cure, the friend, the…whatever it was the person was looking for.

You begin to believe the creator of the universe has you on his mind 24 hours a day. Good and bad. And what is a source of comfort in bad times becomes a lack of direction in good times.

I know a fellow who has not held a steady job for decades. Waiting for “God” to give him the “right job.” And why shouldn’t he? Doesn’t “God” look out for his needs? Doesn’t “God” have his best interests at heart? If there is a God who is concerned about your every thought, and your every deed, certainly He is equally concerned about your career. Right?

This being the graduation season, I am seeing notes from Christian graduates along the lines of “I don’t know what God wants me to do with me life.” “I am looking for God’s direction.” See, we were so immersed in God the Comforter, we believed in God the Life-Plan Director. And yet God becomes silent.

We end up doing…what? Think about it—we ended up doing what we felt was best. God didn’t come down with golden plates, telling us what college to go to! Just like every non-believer, we wrestled with some personal choices and eventually chose one. Or two. Or more. The difference being, afterwards if we felt good about our choice, as a Christian we said, “That must be what God wanted.” A non-believer doesn’t bother.

We picked our careers, our spouses, our locations on the same meter. If it failed—as a Christian we figured with 20-20 hindsight, it must not be what God wanted. We even became good at retro-inserting justification! “Oh, I knew at the time that was not what God wanted, but I did it anyway.”

As I read these statements from students, my heart breaks. Oh to be free of God-approval! To understand we make our own choices and savor our own responsibility. There is no “God-plan” for their life. No grandiose scheme the human can only hope to follow or sit around waiting to be revealed.

The concept of God the comforter comes at a terrible price—becoming God the Cruise Director.

Argument by Parable

I’ve been involved in a discussion at Pensees regarding the cosmological argument and Paul penned out this parable:

Long, long ago in a land far, far away there were two friends named Matt and Theo. One day while hiking through the forest they happened upon a clearing. In that clearing, to their utter amazement, was a shiny red machine, which we moderns would know as a corvette.

Upon inspection Theo's reaction was to appeal to some sort of magic to explain the machine. Matt, however, held out for a further look and managed to find and work the door handle. Viola! It had seats in there! It must be a carriage of some sort. Matt then proceeded to discover the key and started it up. He discovered the pedals, the steering wheel, the gearshift: soon he could drive it!

Matt's confidence grew even while Theo invoked sorcery to explain each feature and effect. Matt even found the hood and began to unravel something of the workings of the engine. Theo was mystified and skeptical at every turn that a mechanical explanation could be found. Matt spent the next week reverse-engineering the car. He was quite pleased with himself and equally annoyed with Theo.

By this time Theo's skepticism had lost all credibility — so much so that Matt failed to see the gravity of his final concern. Asked Theo, "By what natural means did such a finely crafted machine arrive here? Surely there must be some creator, beyond the simple means of this world, that brought it here." But Matt dismissively offered all kinds of explanations, from popping out of nothing, to growing from a heretofore unknown seed, to the forces of nature randomly forming it. In Theo's mind some of the explanations seemed no less objectionable than the sorcery that Matt was hoping to avoid.

In the end, Matt was completely unconcerned with the question. He had been so successful in explaining the magical workings of the corvette that his faith was strong that he should never have to appeal to sorcery or fairies. Surely there is some natural explanation out there, even if he never finds it. On the other hand, Theo is humbled by all the wondrous knowledge and possibilities opened up by Matt's investigation, but he can't help thinking that there's actually something to his last question.

I admit…upon reading it, I thought, “THAT is supposed to be an argument FOR theism?” Am I missing something here? Do you notice how many times Matt turned out to have the correct answer using his methodology? Every time! Do you notice how many times Theo turned out to have the correct answer using his method? Not once!

Is the theist arguing, “Gee, I have been wrong in every other instance in the past, but surely this time I have it right when faced with the same question, using the same method to find a solution”? Would you accept this concept in any other facet of your life?

Imagine going to a doctor who says, “I am not sure what you have. So I will prescribe Medicine Theos. Now, I should let you know, every single time in the past when faced with an unknown ailment, I prescribed Theos, and it later turned out Medicine Matt was the proper medicine. But this time I think I may have it right.”

I don’t know about you, but I would be saying, “How about we try Medicine Matt first!”

Or if your lawyer said, “Not sure how the judge will rule. I am going to try relying upon People v Theos. Now every time I have relied upon Theos the judge has told me I should have used People v Matt. But this time, maybe Theos will work.”

Would you have any confidence in such a lawyer?

Can anyone point out anywhere else in their life where using the same method, getting the same wrong answer, means the next time they use the same method, it will work?

I understand why the parable might work on a theist who already believes in a god (trying to convince them there is a god is like convincing me chocolate tastes good!) but how is this parable supposed to convince a non-theist? How is it supposed to generate any reliance on a method with such a poor track record?

“You have the Burden of Proof” doesn’t work

It is important to lay some definitional groundwork to ensure we are all on the same page. “Burden of Proof” answers the question “Who?” whereas “Standard of Proof” answers the question “How much?” [There is a third and even more important question I will address in a moment.]

In a legal setting, we allocate burden of proof by declaring who must present sufficient evidence to substantiate what is at issue. In a trial, it is the prosecutor or plaintiff. (For hyper-critical lawyers reading this—yes, I know there are some issues the burden “shifts” to the defendants.) In a legal motion—it is the moving party who has the burden. On appeal, it is the Appellant who has the burden.

In a formal debate, it is the person who defends the Affirmative. Although I am not as familiar with scientific presentations, I would imagine it would rest on the person presenting the article or speech. On the person defending their doctoral thesis.

In these situations, it is easy to determine burden of proof. We can point directly at the person and say, “They have the burden of proof.” It answers “Who?” In more informal settings, this gets a bit murkier. Before we move on, though, we need to understand not only the “who?” but the “how?” as well. Just knowing who has the burden is not enough; we need to know what they need to do with it.

“Standard of Proof” answers the question as to how much evidence does the person need to present to sustain their claim. Looking at a gradual scale, from least to most proof necessary:

1. No proof at all. (0%)
2. An iota or scintilla or any proof. (1%)
3. Possible.
4. Probable.
5. More likely than not or preponderance of the evidence (51%)
6. Clear and convincing.
7. Beyond a reasonable doubt.
8. Absolute. (100%)

The percentages are given as an indication. There are no hard-and-fast percentages as to how much greater “probable” is than “possible” or “beyond a reasonable doubt” is than “preponderance of the evidence.” Again, in legal situations, we can easily answer this question. A preliminary examination determines whether it is probable a crime was committed, and probable the accused did it. A personal injury Plaintiff must prove his/her case by preponderance of the evidence. A prosecutor must prove the case beyond a reasonable doubt.

Again, in informal situations, this is not as clearly defined.

The O.J. Simpson case gives an excellent example of the inter-working between burden of proof and standard of proof. In the criminal trial, the prosecutor had the burden of proof; in the civil trial the Plaintiff had the burden of proof. O.J. Simpson never had the burden of proof. So in comparing the two trials—the burden of proof was on the same person. However, in the criminal trial, the prosecutor was unable to meet the standard of proof—“beyond a reasonable doubt” whereas the plaintiff was able to meet the standard of proof—“preponderance of the evidence” that O.J. Simpson killed Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman.

Same burden of proof. Different standard of proof. Different results. (Don’t get confused by the common vernacular of “She met her burden of proof.” This is technically incorrect, as it should be “She provided sufficient evidence to meet the standard of proof” since burden of proof answers “who?” not “how.” But we commonly use the phrase anyway.)

And so in forums and blogs and chatrooms we banter about these terms when debating on theism or politics or economics of just about anything. These are not formal debates; these are not courtrooms. There are no set determinations as to burden of proof or standard of proof. This is just us discussing.

If you cannot agree on a Standard of Proof with an opposing position, there is no reason to bother discussing Burden of Proof. Answering “who” will not further the conversation one bit, if you cannot agree on the “how.”

Let’s use inerrancy, since it is about the brightest line in the otherwise foggy world of Christian debate. Often times, you will see an inerrantist declare a contradiction is when two writings logically contradict each other. “A is an apple.” “A is not an apple” would be a simplistic example of this. The inerrantist demands those claiming a contradiction within the Bible demonstrate a contradiction using this Standard of Proof. Maybe not quite an absolute Standard of Proof-- No. 8 on the DagoodS Scale above—but pretty close.

Yet when defending proposed resolutions, we hear claims of “it is possible…” “it is possible…” It is possible Peter denied Jesus 52 times, and different gospels records different instances of the many occasions. That Mark and Luke knew of, but didn’t include things Matthew did. That the Gospel of John uses a “possibly” completely different measure of time that is unrecorded, unheard of and unknown in any contemporary history.

Do you see what happened? Do you see how the Standard of Proof changed? To prove a contradiction—it must be absolute. (An 8 on the DagoodS scale.) Yet to prove a resolution—it must only be possible. (A mere 3 on the DagoodS scale.) Do you see why this disagreement makes “burden of Proof” irrelevant?

To the inerrantist, if the burden of proof is on them—the standard of proof is “possible.” If the burden of proof is on those claiming a contradiction—the standard of proof is “absolute.” It is the standard of proof controlling the problem—not the burden of proof.

In the evolution debate, the scientist believes the evidence preponderates to evolution. Or even is clear and convincing. The creationist believes the evidence fails because it is not absolute. Or above “beyond a reasonable doubt.” Determining who has the burden here would be useless, since each would say the other failed, because they are using different standards of proof.

Before we go any further--as this will have bearing on why “burden of proof” doesn’t work—we should look at the third and most important question. Even having the burden of proof, and having the standard of proof—the third question is whether the evidence is sufficient. Burden answers “who?” Standard answers “how much?” We would need a determinate to figure out whether the standard was met. Answering the question “to whom?”

Again, in the legal field this is easy. A judge or jury makes the determination. In a formal debate, there are judges as well. Again, in informal situations such as the Internet, there are no judges. No juries. The same discussions go ‘round and ‘round. Even knowing who has the Burden of Proof, and agreement on the Standard of Proof, there is so rarely agreement the standard was met. Even knowing She has the burden of proof, and agreeing the burden is preponderance of the evidence—who decides she presented evidence that preponderates over the opposition?

Again, making “burden of proof” pretty useless, since we cannot agree (even agreeing on burden and standard) whether it was met. The inerrantist, even agreeing they have the burden, and the standard is “possible resolution” is met by those holding to contradictions saying they didn’t sustain the standard of proof. (Realistically, because the contradictionist is using “preponderance of the evidence” as the standard of proof.)

And this is in a simplistic example. Get into historicity of Jesus, or documents using other writings, or authorship or dating and it gets worse. Then get into events of the Tanakh and find even less distinction and greater difficulties determining standard of proof, burden of proof and determinate.

O.K., now let’s go back to the top of the circle, having seen the bubbling problems festering in the background…who, in these informal Internet discussions, has the burden of proof?

Normally, we fall back on the notion, “The person making the claim has the burden of proof.” If the theist claims there is a God—they have the burden of proof to demonstrate there is a God. If an atheist claims there is no god—they have the burden of proof to demonstrate there is no god. If a person claims Matthew the disciple wrote the Gospel of Matthew—they have the burden of proof. If a person claims Matthew the disciple did not write the Gospel—they have the burden. And so on.

At first blush, this seems reasonable. But upon further inspection, it begins to fragment and fall apart. See, we make claims where we presume the nature of the claim is so obvious, no proof is necessary. We often see the use of “2+2=4” in theistic debates, as analogy or example. But how many people go on to prove 2+2=4? They are making a claim, true? Don’t they have the burden of proof? Yet if we start to apply this persistently, conversation becomes impossible.

“The Disciple Matthew wrote the Gospel of Matthew.”
“Prove it.”

“The first attribution of the Gospel was that it was Matthew’s”
“Prove it.”

“Here is the manuscript.”
“Prove that is the manuscript”

“Here are photos, translations, documents.”
“Prove they made manuscripts.”

See, each evidence to support one’s claim, requires another claim. And that claim requires another claim. Here is one minor point regarding a proof of Matthew and we can almost have infinite retrograde as to “prove it” upon each point used to prove the previous one! Let alone starting to look at other proofs of Matthew writing the Gospel. Or refutations against his writing the Gospel.

If we rigidly applied, “The person who makes the claim has the burden”—the conversation would disintegrate. And we would rightly be hounded from every blog, forum and group for being a troll. We reach a point in reviewing claims, where the premise becomes so basic, we agree the other side no longer has to “prove” the claim. We no longer use terms like burden of proof, standard of proof and so on.

In practice, the notion “The person making the claim has the burden of proof” becomes, “The person making a claim outside our everyday experience and knowledge has the burden of proof” which is actually, “The person making a claim outside MY everyday experience and knowledge has the burden of proof.”

Have you ever seen a theist tell another theist they have the “burden of proof” regarding whether there is a god? Of course not! To them, this is such a basic claim, “burden of proof” is not necessary. Like having a mathematician demand another mathematician prove 2+2=4.

Have you seen a fundamentalist Baptist tell another fundamentalist Baptist they have the “burden of proof” that the 66 books of the Protestant Bible are inspired? Of course not! Again, this is a basic claim. Yet when those two Baptists reach a point of disagreement—such as freewill vs. predestination—all of a sudden we hear cries of “burden of proof”!

The notion, “the person making the claim has the burden of proof” really only comes into play when we reach a claim where we disagree. Yet the only way we know we disagree—is by making competing claims! And by virtue of making claims that compete with other people’s claims—each has just gained a burden of proof…right? So why are we stating the other person has the burden of proof by making a claim, when by virtue of our disagreement, we are making a claim ourselves, thus obtaining the burden of proof by our own methodology!

I see it as a sheer waste of time claiming the opposing position has the burden of proof. I find the notion the Bible is anything more than human writing to be outside my experience and knowledge. A fantastical, unsupported claim. To ME—any person who claims it has God-influence would have the burden of proving it. Of differentiating it from all the other writings out there.

But to Christians, the Bible is a superior, unique, transcendent literature of such impossibility that it could not possibly be merely human made. To THEM—any person claiming it is solely human would have the burden of proving it. It is outside their experience and knowledge.

So what are we going to do—spend hours pointing out to the other how “they” have the burden of proof because “they” have the more extraordinary claim? And then, once that is (not) settled, we are still left with standard of proof, and the determinate?

If you can agree with your opposing position as to the standard of proof (a near impossibility in these discussions) you may find you have gone a long way to negating the issue regarding burden of proof.

On a personal note…

When attorneys negotiate with each other, we very rarely use the concept of who has the burden of proof. We know who does (which helps)—but more importantly we attempt to convince the other attorney on proofs. Evidence. What that jury will likely do on the standard of proof.

If I can convince opposing counsel they will lose, on the evidence, I don’t have to worry about convincing a judge or jury. The attorney is much, MUCH harder to persuade. Due to the nature of the beast, very rarely does opposing counsel concede. We are lawyers—we live to find reasons, excuses and loopholes as to why we will prevail.

My focus, however, is on persuading the other side. If I can present enough argument to convince them—persuading a judge that is neutral to my position will be a cake walk.

I approach my Internet conversations with Christians much the same way. I focus on having enough facts and argument to convince them. I want my position to be presented clear enough and strong enough to cause them to concede my point; how much more would it convince a lurker? Of course, just as in the case of opposing counsel, while this is my goal, I do not expect a Christian to do so. If they did, it would surprise me to no end! It is how I want to present myself more than a need to deconvert—if that makes sense.

I think my position has enough strength in the facts and arguments,--it doesn’t matter who has the burden of proof--it will prevail as obvious. That is why, while I understand the point being made, I don’t think “You have the burden of proof” is ever an effective statement. Maybe they do; maybe they don’t.

Be knowledgeable enough in the field it doesn’t matter.

Convincing those who know better

To become a lawyer in my state, you must first obtain a bachelor’s degree. Then you attend law school for 3-4 years to receive a juris doctorate. (and the pretentious title of “Esquire” that only the pretentious use.) Take the bar, pass the character/fitness committee and you are licensed to practice law.

There is no further specialization. My license allows me to appear in Immigration Court, or Tax Court. I can practice in the field of family law, criminal law, personal injury, transactional law. You name it--my license “allows” me to practice that type of law.

Realistically what happens is that after law school you obtain a job and eventually narrow your focus. You become a divorce lawyer. Or a criminal lawyer. Or a personal injury lawyer. Frankly, I have absolutely no business dispensing tax advice, as I have no knowledge in the field. We see, on occasion, a lawyer attempt to go outside his/her field. They may be a personal injury lawyer, and decide to help a family member out for a criminal matter. Generally they make a complete balls-up of it, since they don’t know what they are doing. If I was giving tax advice or patent advice, I would likewise screw it up—I don’t know those areas of law.

I do, however, happen to know Landlord/Tenant law. I have represented Landlords, Tenants, and sat as a Case Evaluator and Arbitrator in Landlord/Tenant disputes. I have performed numerous jury trials, even more judge-trials and countless hearings within this area of law. All over the course of the past 15 years or so. I have practiced in almost every jurisdiction within 100 miles of my office.

A few years ago, I was at a family affair when a relative-in-law piped up with a statement regarding a Landlord’s legal obligation. Thinking she would actually be helped by understanding the nature of the law, and a few points she was in error, I politely stated what the law was.

I, of course, was wrong. Not only wrong in thinking she may be interested in the law, but quite terribly wrong in what the law was. She went on and on, berating me for not knowing the law (“and you are a lawyer?”) and how SHE was right and SHE knew the law, and who was I to dare question HER? I diplomatically kept my mouth shut to keep the peace and moved on.

Of course I wanted to point out my experience in the field, and as a disinterested person (not my landlord or tenant)—I was merely stating what was, not what I wanted it to be. There would be no gain.

This is not unusual. Often tenants are unrepresented, and when we meet in court, they will tell me what the law is. “A landlord has to replace the carpet after each tenant.” [No—they don’t.] “A landlord can’t kick me out, and then sue for rent to the end of the lease” [Yes—they can.] “I told them my new address, and that was enough.” [No—it wasn’t.] I try to explain the law, in the hopes of resolving it. They don’t listen. We go before the Judge. I win. They feel “cheated”—I feel nothing. The law is what the law is.

I do think--if you are trying to convince me of what the law is in a field I know very well--you ought to know the statutes. You ought to know the case law. You ought to know how judges rule, why they rule that way. You ought to know the Court rules and the Rules of Evidence.

In the same vein, why aren’t cosmologists convinced by Kalaam’s Cosmological Argument? If this was such a great and impenetrable argument—shouldn’t every cosmologist say, “Why, clearly the universe has a cause?” Why is it that only Christian apologists, using it on Christian audiences, find it effective?

Why aren’t scientists convinced by Intelligent Design? Why is it only Christian apologists, using it on Christian audiences, find it effective?

Look, I don’t mind the minority view. We can all recall minority positions that eventually prevailed over the then-majority position. (*cough, cough* “Geocentricism, anyone?”) But at least recognize you are promulgating the minority position within the field, and recognize the up-hill battle you face!

I understand the frustration of Christians when faced with Christ-mythers. I deplore the tactic of saying those who claim Christ as historical have the burden of proof. Look, like it or spike it, Christ-myth is a minority position amongst historians. I am not sure I am over-stating it by claiming it is an extreme minority position.

This does not mean it is wrong, per se—but it does mean you should have your ducks in a row and be prepared to fight an up-hill battle against the prevailing view. You should know the strongest arguments for a historical Jesus. You should be able to respond to them. Your hypothesis needs to answer what facts we have better than the claim of a historical Jesus.

Yet often, the very people who are aghast against Christ-myth, employ the same (and worse) method when it comes to evolution. Amongst scientists it is NOT over-stating it to say non-evolution is an extreme minority position. Less than 1% when you take into account all the scientists in the world.

Do creationists (including intelligent design) likewise treat their own position as a minority position? Do they understand the up-hill battle? Do they know the arguments for evolution? Are they able to respond to them? Does a non-evolution hypothesis answer all the facts we have better than an evolution hypothesis?

Please understand, I am NOT saying “Majority opinion is correct.” What I am saying is, when you are trying to convince a lawyer—know the law. If you are trying to convince a cosmologist—know cosmology. If you are trying to convince a scientist—know science.

Book Review – The Unlikely Disciple

Over my vacation, I read The Unlikely Disciple by Kevin Roose upon a recommendation by the FriendlyAtheist. Some lighter, enjoyable reading.

First the Book Reviewy Part:

It is a story of a secular student, raised in a Quaker, liberal household with an extremely “general” view of God (what I would call typical Americana) who decides to join Liberty University for one semester and write about his experiences amongst the conservative, fundamentalist Christian crowd.

He begins his tale with how he was accepted in the University, what preparations he did to “bone up” on what he should know, and his family’s initial reactions. He then spends the remainder of the book detailing his adventures, including his internal reactions to people and their statements, his own developing indoctrination into the system, and describing those he met. Including Jerry Falwell himself.

It was easy-reading; the author did a good job keeping the reader interested in what happened next, whether he would be found out as a non-Christian, and what would happen to the students he met. He described the classes he attended, and the social life of the campus.

I would recommend you get the first few chapters to review, or glance through it at a bookstore before buying. The tone and message stays consistent throughout, so if you like portions of it, you would probably like the whole thing. For me—this was a library-loan worthy book, but not something I see reading again.

Now, my individual impression:

First, I was surprised at the lack of educational depth at Liberty University. I understand the author deliberately took introductory Christian-focused classes—but some of his tales were downright surprising. For example, he indicated his difficulties in learning the names of the New Testament books in order.

This is college? I might expect these fundamentalists not knowing Greek—but not even knowing the books of the Bible? I’ve probably had to know that since 3rd grade!

Or he talked about having fill-in-the-blank notes. Where the teacher hands out copies with most of the notes filled in, and the student just fills in the blanks. “Jesus was the _____ of the world” and you write in “light.” I never remember a fill-in-the-blank note in college. I am scratching my head trying to remember one in high school. And apparently this was in more than one class!

Secondly, I laughed as the author was surprised at meeting the variety within Christian fundamentalists. Just as non-theists are lumped together in one concept by Christians—the author commits the same error by assuming fundamentalists would all look and act the same. There were all the familiar characters from my history.

The Rule Enforcer: the Guy (it was always a guy) who insisted on following every single letter of the law, and inevitably reached a point of authority to impose it on others. Mr. Roose wrote on the RA who sat out at the Movie Theater to catch people going into R-Rated Movies. I know him.

The Rebel: the people who watched the R-rated Movies and were considered the “bad crowd.” The author discussed a certain “room” that everyone wanted to be at, because they were the rebels. In my first college—that was our room. Yet underneath, the Rebel was no more rebellious than your average teenager.

The Rule discriminatory. The person who felt some rules were important until it applied to them. The person who never liked others sneaking kisses (apparently kissing was rule violation at Liberty) until they got a girlfriend/boyfriend. Then it became “O.K.”

The homophobe, the prayer, the “Let’s talk,” the sex-obsessed. All from my past; all here.

Thirdly, I was not surprised at how much the author enjoyed the relationship and camaraderie with Christians. When they thought he was a Christian—he enjoyed how supportive and encouraging and communal the society was. When they discovered he was not a Christian, because they already knew him, he became a “potential Christian” and maintained some of the companionship.

Unfortunately, this often ends when the Christian feels like you are no longer one of them, or a potential. Not just in becoming a heretic (like me), but in church meetings when another Christian trounces your idea, or at Church softball games. Its all fun and games until the Christian perceives they are crossed.

Finally, it was a bit scary how easily Average Theist could assimilate into the community. Mr. Roose talked about how it was initially shocking to hear so much “You are gay” and “Faggot” and “Homosexual” all as derogatory talk. Yet after a time, hearing it over and over, it became less so. Soon you could see in the tenor of the book, it became de rigor--accepted for what it was.

In the end, I forget how odd fundamentalism must be to others completely unaccustomed to it. Being raised and living in it for so long, this all seemed like a trip down memory lane.

God’s Priorities

My wife is an avid Michigan State University Fan. “Avid” may not be a strong enough adjective—obsessed would be the terminology psychiatrists would use. We have the flags, the stickers, the dog collars, the pillows, the blankets and even a room with Spartan wallpaper border. Pens, screen savers, wastebaskets. And every imaginable coat, sweater, sweatshirt, or hat.

To give you an inkling of how “MSU” my house is, you would have to understand there is a friendly (like Hatfield-McCoy “friendly”) rivalry between MSU and University of Michigan. My wife never roots for U of M. I didn’t realize how deep and insidious this was being passed onto our children until the day I was having a conversation with my youngest. 7 or 8 at the time. We have a relative who attends U of M.

Youngest: I can’t wait to see C…..but….
Me: Yes?
Youngest: Don’t tell Mommy….[whispering]…she goes to a VERY BAD SCHOOL!

Ah the joys of brainwashing children.

Secondly, what you would have to know about my wife is that her favorite sport is basketball. She played basketball in High School. Watches basketball (college) whenever the opportunity arises. When the NCAA 64 was being played locally last year—she got tickets. Even though the teams playing were all from out of town. Needless to say, our March is absolutely controlled by “March Madness.” Brackets, games—the works.

This year, the Final Four of the NCAA was to be played in Detroit. Over a year ago, my wife began scheming and planning to get tickets. As you get them through a lottery system, my wife had every friend, relative, neighbor, or minor acquaintance signing up in the hopes of getting tickets.

And she got four (4). She was ecstatic. This was the equivalent of Super Bowl, World Series and the U.S. Open all rolled into one.

This year her beloved Spartans were not likely to get past the top 8—in other words, probably not coming to Detroit. Yet they managed to beat a higher-seeded team to be in the Final Four. She was thrilled to see them play at least once.

Then they did the even more unlikely, and won again on Saturday—meaning they are in the Championship Game. My wife thought she was in heaven. A dream come true.

Now I am not going to say my wife prayed for this to happen…but I am pretty certain someone did somewhere! Yet while all these things were being put into play, 100’s of 1,000 of children were dying from starvation. From easily treatable diseases. Surely someone was praying for them?

It is usually at this point the atheist says something like, “Why would God allow those children to die?” and the Christian is supposed to respond with, “Who are you to ask God, ‘Why?’” and we get into a bizarre discussion debating characteristics of a creature we cannot verify a thing about.

I guess I am looking at this slightly differently. We all agree it is unlikely MSU would be going to the Final Four this year. Not impossible—just unlikely. And even more unlikely it would happen in Detroit and my wife would get tickets and so on. We all probably agree that if there was a personal, interactive God, it would be within its power to manipulate the universe in such a way to make sure MSU was in Detroit, playing the Final Four, with my wife in the audience.

It is also possible for this God to prevent starvation. To facilitate cures for diseases. Yet it does not.

It would seem, in the grand scheme of things, if there was an interactive God, for whatever reason, it is more important to it that MSU be in the Final Four, then for children to live. Because that is the situation in the world.

How are we able to discern anything about a creature that has priorities so contrary to what we believe? I can understand people who are motivated by things I am not—maybe they have a higher priority for a larger salary than I do. Or they love a sport more than I do, and will commit time and effort to it.

But imagine someone who thinks it is more important a certain team plays basketball than 1000’s dying? We can’t get our hands around that; we can’t understand that. In fact, if we presented a moral dilemma where a person chose to go to a basketball game at the expense of 1000’s of people dying—we would lock them away! We would question the stability of their mental state!

It baffles me when I read theist say, “God finds this important….” Or “God looks at that….” Or “God wants this….” or “God dislikes….” We can’t even understand the priority system of such a God; to talk of “likes” and “dislikes” is pure unadulterated speculation.

You have a God (if there was such a creature) who finds it more important to have a world where my wife gets to go to a basketball game than to save dying children. Don’t tell me you understand the inner-workings of what such a creature desires—you can’t even explain its priorities.

Is “God” a good answer?

I was reading on Debunking Christianity of a Christian who appreciated the skeptic’s arguments, yet maintains his belief in theism, in part, due to the Cosmological Argument:

Always I have been of the opinion that the unanswered questions of belief are much easier to live with than those of unbelief. For example (and this is a huge one for me), if I choose naturalism (which I see to be the only real alternative to theism), then I must accept that somewhere, at some time, something came into existence out of absolutely nothing. (For all the efforts of contemporary atheists to escape what Frank Hoyle [Ed. – I believe he meant “Fred Hoyle”] saw clearly as the implications of big bang cosmology, this consequence still stands undefeated.)

I don’t get why this argument resonates with theists. Oh…I understand wanting to know what happened at the Big Bang; wanting to know how the universe works—what made the clock start to tick. What I don’t get is why “God” is such a good answer.

Look, we have an innate desire to present an Answer to a Question. Present a solution to a difficulty. If you have picked up any relationship book written in the past 50 years, you have read how men are supposed to learn when women present them with a problem, they don’t want a solution—they just want someone to listen. We are informed, and have to learn and often fail in suppressing our natural inclination to present a solution before our wives have even finished relaying what happened!

And our universe presents some great questions. Like the Big Bang. Or the start of life. Or why deep-fried Twinkies taste good when regular Twinkies do not. And certainly we want answers to those questions. But we want actual answers—not some propped up idea that is both unhelpful and presents more questions!

I had a teacher who, whenever you prefaced a question with “I have a question” would always interrupt with “I have an answer; let’s see if they match.” This resulted in conversations like:

Student: I have a question—
Teacher: Good. I have an answer; let’s see if they match.
Student: --what chapters are we supposed to read?
Teacher: Oh, too bad. My answer was ‘Three blind mice.’

While I appreciate he was attempting to break us of the habit of prefacing a question with a useless clause—doing it every…single…time…became annoying. Yet I get that same sense with the convenience of God

“Where did the universe come from?”
“God.”

“How did life form?”
“God.”

“What keeps atoms from blowing apart?”
“God.”

“How do we impose our moral sense on others?”
“Say God says it.”

“Is our few years of life it?”
“God.”

“What if I am struggling with my current situation?”
“Don’t worry—God.”

Like the theist has the same perpetual answer for any difficult question. An answer that, in the end isn’t very helpful. It is that co-worker who, when you tell them your car wouldn’t start that morning, says, “There must be something wrong with your car.” Hey—thanks for the valuable insight. Never crossed my mind! I thought cars were supposed to not start!

How did God start the universe? The theist doesn’t know.
What morals does a God impose? The theist makes a guess.
How did God initiate life? The theist doesn’t know.
What exists after this world? The theist makes a guess.
What would a God do to help me today? The theist doesn’t know.

This is what puzzles me about this argument. If you are going to propose an “answer” to our problem—shouldn’t it progress us forward toward a resolution? Instead, the God hypothesis introduces another character we know even less about, with even less understanding (or equal) as to how the problem would be resolved.

I almost find this argument…lazy. Like looking for a solution is too hard to do. So much easier to presume there is this “Unknown Entity” and lay the credit at its feet.

A Canard That Needs to Go

Updated...(see below)

Canard (noun) 1. A false or baseless usually derogatory story, report or rumor.

2. A duck intended or used for food.

On occasion, we hear the statement, “You atheists reject claims within the Bible because you presuppose supernatural things can’t happen.” Yeah, Dr. Craig—I’m looking at you! (If you have ever heard a debate with Dr. William Craig, this inevitably comes up—how one’s “philosophical” view affects one’s “historical” view.)

In one very slight aspect this concept is true—because we are convinced no god exists, we necessarily believe no god interacts in the world. The same way you believe there are no unicorns in your back yard results in you not believing the claim unicorns are doing anything in your backyard.

However, just as you are convinced it is more likely there are no unicorns because of the evidence you know—we are convinced there is no god because of the evidence we know.

See, we reject miraculous claims not because of some presupposition; but rather because we are convinced a natural explanation is more compelling. Or, in some situations, a possible natural explanation is more likely.

Let’s put the shoe on the other foot, for a moment, and demonstrate why it is not presuppositions; but rather proof. Take your average Christian. They obviously believe in a God. They believe in a God who interacts within our natural world. A God who “shifts” things from what would be a natural, normal course, to a new course. A miracle.

Your average Christian even prays that God would intervene. Rather than Aunt Jane dying from cancer, as would naturally occur—God would swoop in and stop the natural process. Rather than miss a job interview, God would strategically place the Christian miraculously next to the perfect employer on their next plane flight.

Your average Christian believes in a God who is so mighty, He could perform momentous miracles--spin the continents with a passing thought, and so conscientious He can perform the tiniest of interferences—a smile from a child when needed.

There is every reason in the world such a God can miraculously affect…toast. So does the Christian really believe God miraculously put the Virgin Mary’s Face on a Grilled Cheese Sandwich? Remember, it is logically possible. (The last bastion of every Christian argument.)

Nothing prevents the Christian God from entering the natural world in Miami, 1994—and instead of the normal scorch marks appearing on such sandwiches—rearrange them so they would take the shape of a face. A particular face. Mom.

This is the same God who obtained a coin from a fish’s mouth. Or broke a few loaves of bread into such itty-bitty, tiny pieces, once divided, it could feed 1000’s with basketfuls left over. A God who made bones dance, and sent dreams, and stopped the sun for a whole day. Toast would be a piffle.

So why does the Christian believe this isn’t a miracle? Is it because of some presupposition against Catholicism? Against Cheese? Against cheesy miracles? Of course not! It is because the natural explanation is more believable than a claim of a supernatural intervention.

We see scorch marks on grilled cheese all the time. Putting butter in contact with heat will do that. And we understand how our minds make patterns from randomly generated shapes. It is how, on a summer’s day, we see pirate ships and flying pigs in cloud formations. It is perfectly natural we would do the same with shapes in scorch marks and “see” a woman. (Obviously, it is made even more humorous that the Virgin Mary appears as depicted in Church art, and no one knows what Mary would look like—let alone if that was her.)

We can pick other miracles. Does the Christian believe the Gospel of Peter, and the miraculous sign of Jesus coming out of the tomb, helped by angels whose heads reached to the clouds? And a talking cross following them out? Or tales of Jesus’ swaddling clothes causing healing? Or Thelca magically opening prison doors and not being burned by a fiery execution?

See-no one believes every miracle story ever written. Not even every miracle story written by those within their own religion. At some point, their own skepticism kicks in and they think, “There is a perfectly good natural explanation for this, outweighing any need to resort to supernatural.”

We do the same thing. Only we happen to find natural explanations more sufficient in YOUR claims of miracles. You may not like it; you may think the evidence is compelling and sufficient. But please understand it has nothing to do with presuppositions—just like you it has to do with evidence.

Lose the idea, “You don’t believe this because you presuppose against miracles.” I’ll show you how you suffer from the same “presupposition”—that you are reviewing evidence and remain unconvinced.

Updated: Bugger Blogger. I posted this twice. Vinny and Bruce – I moved your comments to this one and deleted the repetitious entry. Thanks for understanding

Skeptics are Skeptical of Everything Except Skepticism

I was just involved in a long discussion with Ten Minas Ministries covering a variety of topics. (WARNING: It is two lawyers talking—so it gets extremely long-winded. Read at your own peril. Unless you are suffering from insomnia, in which case: “Enjoy. And sleep well.”) One of the tacit questions asked was whether I was ignoring logical fallacies in atheistic arguments because of my bias toward atheism.

How does one tell one’s own bias? Worse—how does one remove it from consideration of the issue?

I accuse Christian apologists of being biased. (Oh boy—do I!). I see bias in people’s politics, in looking for mates, in handling money. We see biases in play all the time. I would be foolish to see it in everyone else, and presume I do not suffer from prejudices myself.

Of course I have biases. I can even see them come out when listening to theistic debates. I am rooting for the skeptic; the non-believer. I groan when they make a bad point, cheer when they make a good point and hiss at Dr. Craig. *grin* My writing comes from a decidedly skeptical viewpoint when it comes to Christian claims.

I have written before on how I try to remove these biases, by considering arguments in terms of what neutral, disinterested parties would be convinced by. Not by what I think, or what persuades me. Yet in the end, it is my determination of what a neutral would think. No juries are helping me out by giving verdicts on God.

I try. At least I think I do. I try and come at the question as if there may be a God. My brain does something like this:

“Look at the world about you. The complexity of a single cell, let alone trillions working in unity to make a human body work. Or ecosystems. Or the fascinating study of DNA. How does intelligence work? How can we be so certain of our own existence, if it is chemical reactions? Certainly some God is the initiator and holds this together.

“O.K….so we assume there is a God…

“…What does he look like?

“How do I use this world to make determinations about something that is not from this world? How can I look at a plant and derive some concept about this God? How do I look at the history of cosmology and align that with a God? Or evolution? Or planetary alignments?

“How can I be consistent in a method regarding God, claiming some things within this universe must reflect a god (intelligence) and some things must not (time)? What method do we use to pick and choose?

“Why would I use the cosmological argument for God when I see so many issues in the concept of ‘causation’ (specifically the issue of the use of time before there was time) as well as the fact we don’t know what happened in the 1 Planck second after Time=0? Isn’t this speculation based upon unknown facts?

My mind starts to race…

“How is it gods change so much over time and locale? Why is it the more science learns, the more gods must modify to conform to the new information? I can see Christianity is not true—yet they believe so fervently. Couldn’t every belief in God be equally untrue, yet fervently held?

At this point, my mind won’t…quite…reach a god. It won’t snap into place. No matter how open I think I am trying to be, it just doesn’t fit.

He He He. We have all done this with a present in a box, or a screw in a hole. We try it; doesn’t fit. We try it again; still doesn’t fit. We walk away, and come back, “One more time”—still doesn’t fit. Maybe one more time…

I feel the same about God. The arguments against God are still there. I can’t make them go away. I don’t see the logical fallacies being claimed.

But is that simply my bias? Are the questions not honest inquiry, but biases piling on?

How do YOU get rid of your bias?

An argument that misses the point

In these discussions, we often see the claim “You don’t believe in a God, because you want to sin.” For instance, Ten Minas Ministries wrote in this article:

You may be asking yourself, "If everything you've said is true, why are there still atheists in the world?" Think about it for a minute. Belief in God isn't simply a matter of changing your mind then going on with life as usual. There are consequences to that belief, especially if you go all the way to Christianity. It isn't just your beliefs that have to change, but also your lifestyle. If people were to start believing in God, they'd have to give up their gambling, drinking, premarital sex, greed, and countless other vices. We like our vices. We don't want to give them up.

Or Frank Turek’s Friend who cleverly discovers:

He said, “You’re raising all of these objections because you’re sleeping with your girlfriend. Am I right?”

All the blood drained from the kid’s face. He was caught. He just stood there speechless. He was rejecting God because he didn’t like God’s morality, and he was disguising it with alleged intellectual objections. This young man wasn’t the first atheist or agnostic to admit that his desire to follow his own agenda was keeping him out of the Kingdom.

Or Dr. Moore:

I think you know there’s a god, I think you know there is certain fiery expectation of judgment. I just think exactly as the Apostle John says, “The light comes into the world and the men hate the light and they love the darkness” and why? Because their deeds are evil and they want to cover it over…

I guess my question is…why? Why does one have to not believe in God to do certain actions? It is not as if the non-believers have the moral police investigating crimes committed while believing! Does anyone here know of Christian couples who lived together before they were married?

No…wait…strike that. Does anyone NOT know of a single Christian couple who lived together prior to getting married? Did they need to lose their belief in God to do so?

“Sir, I am sorry to bother you, but we are the Local Atheist Patrol.”
“Yes?”
“Says here, you are living with a woman. Is that true?”
“Well…yes.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“Uh…yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t believe in God AND live with a woman.”
“Are you serious?”
“Quite. Rules are very strict you know. ‘Giving up belief in God is a prerequisite for living with your girlfriend.’”
“So what do I have to do?””Simple, really. Either give up your belief in God and keep living with her…or move out.”

Anyone know Christians who gamble? (It is March Madness…) Had premarital sex? (Again, know any who didn’t?) Are greedy? Drink alcohol? In fact, we see Christians who perform the same acts we do, to the point an argument against Christianity is that we can’t tell the moral difference, and the Christian defends it by claiming Christians still sin!

If Christians still sin, why do they need to give up belief in God to sin?

A part of me wants to thank the Christians for this argument. Hey—we all know sex sells, right? And the best advertisement in the world is how we atheists, agnostics, deists, wiccan, pagan, deconverts and general non-believers are living a world of such carefree sex we are willing to endanger our very soul to eternal torment just to imbibe. That’s gotta be some great sex, eh?!

We drink, we gamble, we party. We can be selfish. It’s like we are the neighbor who always throws those great bashes people talk about for months afterward, and the poor Christian is never invited. They still believe in a God. They can’t come.

Unfortunately, it is false advertising. The believer becomes the unbeliever and finds out they are having the same sex (or lack thereof) they were before. There was no on-rush of lovers just waiting in the lobby for them to “give up God.” They have the same problems with too much alcohol, or gambling. In fact, not much changes.

Yes, there are differences. The Christian cannot understand it is a symptom—not a cause. If you were a struggling gay Christians, constantly fighting your sexual cravings, and become a non-believer, it is no surprise that a self-imposed belief homosexuality is immoral being lifted causes you to enjoy yourself for who you are.

Christians only see a deconvert enter their homosexual lifestyle and say, “Ha! He deconverted to be Gay!” Nope. He was always gay—after deconversion there was no reason to suppress it.

The reason this argument is an epic failure is because it is not true. Skeptics cannot resonate with it. The only peolpe who believe it are other Christians, nodding their heads and shouting “Amens.”

Using it says more about the Christians’ lack of perspective than it does the skeptic’s reasons for disbelieving in a God.

Why Blog?

Sam asked a good question: “Dagoods, your whole blog seems mostly to be about deconstructing Christianity. If you don't care whether people are Christians or not, why do you do it?”

He’s correct—most of my blog entries deal with deconstructing Christianity or Christian themes. And…I don’t care to “sell” Christians to deconvert to non-belief. How do those two concepts align?

As always, there is no short answer with me. *grin*

Why do we Blog?

There are many reasons to blog. Some people write a diary of their lives. “Today I ran 2 miles.” Others post pictures for friends. Or tell of trips. Some theistic blogs concentrate on arguing (“Debunking Christianity” and “Triablogue” come to mind.) Some do not. Some are funny; some sad. And they come and go.

Within blogs themselves, we may veer from our general theme and blog on some other note.

Years ago, I concentrated on forums. Where arguing is the de facto form of communication. And one particular forum thread was started by a blogger who documented her experiences regarding Christian forums on her blog. As I followed that particular blog entry, a fellow named Jeff commented that if this blogger wanted some intelligent Christian interaction-- converse with him. As an initial curiosity, I joined the world of Blogging to interact with Jeff. I was soon up to my elbows, interacting with Jeff, Paul, Sam, and Roman.

Over the years, my blogging has vacillated between apathetic meanderings, argumentative positions, and simple questions. From such humble beginnings…I now blog because I want to.

Who I am

There are two core essentials to understand me and my blogging: 1) I learn by argumentation and 2) I enjoy the topic of Christianity.

Arguing

I don’t know if I love the practice of law, because I love the argument; or I love the argument because I love the practice of law. They are intertwined.

Now, when I say “argument” I am not talking about two people screaming at each other, faces red and pounding on their chests. While that can be fun (for a bit)—I am referring to the whole process. Researching all the facts both favorable and not favorable to a particular position. Becoming aware of the correct law to apply, and how to apply it. Being fully prepared for any possible contingency (while knowing you cannot cover them all). Carefully framing a weave of the facts and law to present your position.

Then, if screaming and shouting is how to deliver it—do so.

My partner and I often play “devil’s advocate” with each other. Take the other side and argue vociferously from the position opposing our own. This shows the weakness in our own case, the strengths, where we might need more information or be better prepared. It is how we “learn” what we need to know.

I like to watch other cases, and other lawyers present their positions—knitting together the facts and law, while the opposing side presents their own interpretations and emphases. What the public cannot always conceptualize is the lawyer’s ability to separate the argument from the person. We can shout and yell, and be outrageously indignant as to the complete and utter stupidity of the opposing position, and once the argument has ended—outside the courtroom—ask the other lawyer how the wife and kids are doing. Arguing is what we do for a living—we don’t take it home with us.

Even when I am arguing with you, Sam, it is often not as much intended to be a confrontational fight, but rather a way for me to probe and dissect and weigh the strength and weaknesses of each of our positions. It may seem I am 100% gung-ho against you, but in fact I am thinking and wondering and even trying as best I can to see it from your point of view. I may be screaming how bloody wrong you are on the ‘net, while my mind is thinking, “I’m about 90% convinced he’s right.” I know it doesn’t come across that way (and sometimes I am much more emotionally obstinate than merely being a disinterested debater) yet that is how I argue. It is how I learn.

I am sure it is frustrating to other people. Irritating even. I have tried to explain it and never can quite capture how arguing can be a matter of enjoyment and gaining knowledge.

I enjoy the topic of Christianity

This should not come as a surprise. I attended Christian schools all my life—taking Bible courses literally every single year. I took so many Bible/Christian courses in college just for enjoyment; I am only a few credits short of a Bible Major (in addition to my History Major.) I taught Sunday School and small groups.

I like the study; I like the discussion. I like the people.

After deconverting, I approached the friends I had spent 100’s of hours learning and discussing these topics to continue the discussion. “I will not discuss this with you.” “I can’t talk about this with you.” “I’ll call you…someday…in about 175 years…”

I approached my own family. “We don’t know what to say to you, so we won’t say anything at all.”

I approached churches. “We don’t really have a place for you.”

I approached my wife. “I refuse to talk about this with you.”

Gone. Every single human outlet I had to discuss a topic I loved for 37 years; my joy was taken away from me.

If you approached me in life, Sam, you would never recognize me as “DagoodS.” If you said you were a Christian, I would smile and say, “That’s nice.” If you said, “I want to discuss Christianity with you”—I would laugh and say, “Probably not.” And then change the subject. If you wanted to tell me your Christian testimony—you would find me a patient listener, with the appropriate, “Go on” and “How fascinating.”

In person-to-person meetings, it takes an extremely special Christian to interact with an atheist such as myself, and since I doubt happenstance would allow such a meeting, I don’t probe for it. I let the person be who they are, and move on. Every single time I have indicated I am an atheist to a Christian—be it friend, family, former acquaintance or stranger—it has ended badly. *shrug* Maybe its me; maybe its my personality. Maybe it is how life goes.

This blog—this corner of the Internet—is my last bastion to discuss the topic I love in the form I enjoy. Believe me, if I could find Christian friends who would be willing to interact on this level—this blog would disappear like the majority.

I have other places where I can write of who I am, or what my day is like. Of funny medical stories, or lawyer jokes or whatever passes my fancy. While I have tried to struggle away from it, this blog defaults to my talking about Christianity, and why I am not persuaded by it.

The Struggle

I’ve gone back and forth with just ending it. Maybe one out of three books I now read deal with Christianity. It was a full-time endeavor for many a year, but as a good friend told me, “I get it. Move on.” HeIsSailing clearly was able to, why can’t I?

Because I feel guilty, believe it or not.

We talk about how deconverting is a solitary event. People go through it alone. I have written on the reasons for that, and will not reiterate them here. Only to say, THIS is why it is useless to try and “sell” deconversion. People chose to go that route or they don’t. Can’t force ‘em.

As a person deconverting, you read. You read and you read and you read. Since the Internet is so handy—much of what you read is on the Internet. You look for Christian arguments. You hope to find a strong, supportive, impenetrable Christian argument. But since your mind is now questioning—you constantly look for what the other side has to say.

“Judas died by hanging and then fell. Matthew recorded his death; Luke his post mortem fall.”
O.K. (you think to yourself). This sounds like a pretty good resolution to a supposed contradiction. What does the other side have to say about this strong argument for inerrancy in this instance?

“Matthew and Luke disagree on this issue and that and this. Luke’s reasoning for recounting the tale was for death, not what happened to the body. Papais lists another way in which Judas died. What is the method for determining a contradiction?”

And so, for one long afternoon, the deconverting go back and forth between websites and Greek Bibles and commentaries on this one little issue, trying to come to a conclusion in their mind as to whether they should continue to believe the way they have been taught.

Whether I like it or not—I am a part of that process. I have been one of those skeptics that deconverts look at their arguments in the face of Christian ones. I am deeply and utterly appreciative of the skeptics who presented their arguments while I was the Christian, then the questioning, then the deconvert. I feel an obligation to do the same.

It is funny—I consider myself an extremely fresh deconvert. I am amazed it has been almost four years. Who’d a thunk it?! It is not like a new wound, but rather a wound that has scabbed and scarred, and is now just a dull red. Yet I still look at the wound and think, “Hey, that is not what my mental image is of myself. I don’t remember that being there on my hand.” It still seems “new” to me.

And then I read of people who were adamant Christians in 2006, and joined iidb in 2007, to deconvert in 2008. I think, “Wow, they were still Christians when I was already an atheist.” In my mind, I am the freshest batch of deconverts, not an alumni. Not the guy who returns and says, “I remember when the skeptics used to play football where the new Administration Building stands.” I think of myself as the guy who graduated yesterday.

Instead I find myself one of the professors (forgive me, but it works in the analogy.) One of the people the next graduating class is looking at.

I don’t write as well, or as adamantly as I used to. Much of that has to do with my degree of interest. But I leave this blog open for the occasional moment where I want to talk about a cherished topic, let my thoughts leave my head—and if it helps a person along their way, I consider it an added bonus.

I see a difference between writing on Christianity and selling atheism. I like to see the arguments and attempt to present the arguments in a cohesive manner. But if the person is not persuaded by them—so be it. People persuade differently. Let them chose their own path.

I’m too easy

As we know, on Monday the results from the American Religious Identification Survey 2008 were released. I was curious about Dr. Albert Mohler’s impression; however on the same day President Obama lifted the ban on embryonic stem cell research and that took precedence.

Dr. Mohler did deal with the topic on Tuesday. One caller asked how he felt about the results, and in his perpetually long-winded way, he indicated he was both encouraged and discouraged by the results. Discouraged by the decline of main-line Protestants, of course, but encouraged by those who self-identified as non-believers. Why? Because they know they are lost. He finds non-believers to be easier to evangelize to, rather than nominal or liberal Christians who have a wishy-washy view of God.

Clearly there is a wide range of how “easy” it is to evangelize to non-believers. I would think Dr. Mohler would find deconverts, as a generalization, extremely difficult to convince. And perhaps some who had never considered Christianity in any way would be very open to trying out a new thing.

Obviously the easiest people to sell a product are to those who need the product to survive. You don’t have to work hard to convince a person dying of a disease to take medicine. Or a drowning person to grab the life preserver.

The problem with selling Christianity, is that one first has to convince the person they need it to survive. As the euphemism goes--Christianity must first create the disease [sin]; in order to justify the cure [Jesus.] If the person is not convinced they are dying, you can’t convince them to take the medicine.

This works, of course. Otherwise Campus Crusade would have abandoned the Four Spiritual Laws long ago. First convince them they sin. (“Have you ever broken one of the Ten Commandments? Blah blah blah.”) Then convince them they need the cure.

The problem with this is that it creates those very nominal Christians Dr. Mohler feels become harder to convince. They might “get Jesus” but…gasp!...get the wrong one! Now they’ve said their prayer, they can sin guiltlessly. Like getting afterlife insurance.

The second easiest person to sell something, is if they already want it. How hard is it to convince a child to go to McDonald’s? In my house the barest hint of a suggestion within a whisper is MORE than sufficient encouragement to have an instant carfull of kids, eagerly telling me what they want. Tell an employee they can have the rest of the day off…paid. Do they reply, “Mmmm…you’re gonna have to convince me.” Nope, the door is already swinging closed by the time you have finished the sentence.

Again, this is a difficulty with selling Christianity. How many people are eagerly looking to become a Christian and just…can’t…find…a…way to do it? Perhaps we can find anecdotal evidence in a drug addict who wants a way out, and relies upon Jesus, or a person looking for a friend, and finding it in the Church. But how many non-believers are there, with this huge “want” and desperate seeking for Christianity?

How easy are we? What type of person does a Christian think is the easiest to evangelize to?

Then I started to think about it on the flip side—who would I, as an atheist, think is the easiest to deconvert from the Christian camp? And I realized almost as soon as I completed the thought—I don’t care. I don’t gauge people by who is “easy” or “hard” to convince. If they want to discuss theism—great! If they don’t—equally great. I see atheism as neither a “need” nor a “want.” I don’t see it as my obligation to “save” someone from Christianity.

Much of this comes from reading numerous deconversion stories. I have yet to read one (and if you know of it—link me up) where a deconvert says they were a Christian until an atheist came knocking on their door one day… Or until they read some sign and thought, “Maybe I will look into atheism”… Or by being surrounded by atheistic friends.

Invariably, deconversion stories follow the lines of something happening. What that “something” is, varies between people. But whatever it is, it causes the deconvert to take a momentary step back and say, “Wait a minute. I would like to look at this a bit further.” Of course, dozens of books, hundreds of hours and thousands of tears later, they find they no longer believer.

There is no room, in there, for me as an atheistic missionary. To “sell” them on something they neither want, nor need. If they would like my position on theism, I am happy to share. If they want some thoughts or questions, and some sources (both pro and con)—I am happy to provide. But I am not here to “sell” anything.

I wonder what gauge or barometer the Christian uses to determine who is an easy or hard sell? Why do I think I would be considered more on the “hard” end of the scale? *grin*

A Redundant Post on Absolute vs. Relative Morality

But first I don’t want to talk about morality. Remove morality considerations from your mind. Put down your mental battle-gear; take a moment and reflect on something different.

I want to talk about colors.

Remember those watercolor paint tins? With the eight colors laid out in ovals—a very distinct Black and Blue and Red and Yellow and Green? And how you loved to be the first person to use one, and how you hated to get the tin that had been passed around and around where all the colors had mushed together into a putrid brown? No watercolor grass should ever be putrid brown/green.

Or the box of crayons. Sure you could be like 99% of the kids who obtained the Crayola 8-color box with colors like “Red” and “Yellow.” Then there was that fancy kid—you know who I mean—who brought the Big Box. The Granddaddy of them all. The 64-color version. (With the crayon sharpener built right into the box!) A tantalizing display of lambent rainbow splash, merging from the deep red to the pale red directly to deep orange and through pale yellow. Your eyes took it in, jealously reading “Raspberry Red” (not “Red”) or “Magenta Blue” (not “Blue”) and wondering what cruel fate left you with parents who could not understand “Brilliant Yellow ” beautifully depicted the nuance you were looking for so much better than plain old boring “Yellow.”

We grew up learning colors. “Red” means stop. “Green” means go. “Yellow” means—Don’t eat that snow! I say “Blue car” and you have a mental image of a certain color.

Now look at the following three images, and ask yourself these questions:

What color are the rocks?
What color is the doll’s outfit?
What color is the iPod?







The first thought through your head was “Dark Blue, Light Blue and Pink.” You didn’t have to contemplate or get a color wheel to match them up with designated swatches. Even if you were looking for a trick, or trying to be clever—your mind unbidden instantaneously responded with those colors.

Do you realize those answers—those almost instinctive reactions—are culturally determined? We think of pink as a very different color than Red. Your first thought was not “That iPod is light red.” Nope—you thought, “Pink.” Do you know the Chinese do not have a distinct word for “pink”? To them, pink is another shade of red. If you were Chinese, the first thought would have been “the iPod is light red.”

However, the Russians have two distinct words, and consider light blue as a completely different color than dark blue. They would have thought the baby’s outfit was the color goluboy and the rocks were siniy.

I don’t know about you, but this idea of light blue and dark blue as being two different colors seems peculiar to me. Can’t the Russians see they are both blue—just different shades of blue? Yet the Chinese person would consider me peculiar for not seeing pink is just a different shade of red.

Some cultures only have terms and consider two colors—dark and light. The Hanuno’o language (Philippines) only has four colors. English is considered to have 11 separate colors.

Our culture has affected how we view colors. How our minds automatically designate and pattern out into categories what we see. A Russian’s mind, without active thought, differentiates between two colors what an American mind would lump together as two different shades of the same color. The American mind differentiates red and pink; whereas the Chinese would lump them together.

Imagine we sat down people from a variety of cultures, gave them a long strip of paper with the full spectrum of colors (white to red to yellow to blue to black) and told them to mark out the colors. Where it changes from a shade of red to a totally new color.

Not surprisingly, the Americans would generally agree with their markings. Yet even within the Americans, due to our individuality, there would be slight differences. Where one person thought “yellow” had changed to “orange” would vary from person to person. Close, but not exact. The Russians would agree (generally) with the Russians. Cherokee Indians (generally) with Cherokee Indians and so on.

We can see how the culture, society and language have affected each person’s choice of colors. Where they would mark. And how what seems bizarre to one culture (“How can they only see four colors?”); may equally be seen as bizarre in our own (“How can they only see one blue?”)

O.K.—the big switch (like you didn’t see this coming.)

Morals are like colors.

I know; I know—morals are BIG and IMPORTANT and meaningful and how dare I compare the mundane with such a deep theological and philosophical concept as ethics. Why, there are books and sets of books and shelves of books, and sections of shelves of books, dedicated to the idea of morality. It must be far more significant than colors.

However, if you can keep in mind the idea of colors; you will better understand the relativist position.

First, we understand that individual consideration is overwhelmingly influenced by our own culture. If you got it about the colors (even for an instant) as to how other cultures can view what seems so obvious to you, in a very different light and it is so obvious to them—then you can equally understand how morals we are raised with can seem so obvious to us; yet not to other cultures.

In America, we have been raised and constantly infused with the notion slavery is wrong. We read about it in history class in elementary school. Our parents say it is wrong. Our teachers said it was wrong. Our classmates write essays on how it is wrong. Over and over we are bombarded with slavery being wrong, from every aspect in our life.

Is it any wonder we come to the moral conclusion (surprise, surprise) that slavery is wrong? The same way we are constantly besieged with the notion pink is a separate color from red and likewise our mind defaults to being firmly convinced of that fact?

Equally, in America, we focus on our economics. Get what you can, while you can. If I loan money at slightly higher interest than anyone else—hey, who’s to complain? The people borrowing from me have a choice to go elsewhere; perhaps they cannot because of credit problems or bankruptcy issues. That’s our choice in a “free market society,” right?

Yet what happens when we look to other cultures? To the Hebrews in the times of Tanakh, slavery was neither immoral nor moral. It just was. Sure, it could be practiced immorally, just like sex or eating could be immorally performed—but in and of itself (like sex and eating) it was not immoral. However, loaning money at usurious rates was considered reprehensible and completely immoral.

What is wrong (slavery) and right (high interest loans) to an American is the complete opposite to another culture. We choose different colors that seem correct to us because of the way we are raised.

Those morals that just seem right; those times an absolute or objective morals positions claims, “EVERYBODY agrees that _____ is immoral” are just ingrained feelings; an instinctual response from being raised a certain way. Just like “everybody” can see light blue is another shade of blue—not a separate color, right?


Second, there is no method to determine what the objective or absolute moral is.

Who determines what is “absolute blue”? Do you? What if, on this spectrum sheet of paper, you picked one blue, and the person next to you picked the shade to the right? Or two to the right? Who is correct? Or you both turn to the Hanuno’o who says, “There is no blue.” Or the Russian who says, “There are two blues”!

Is Murder wrong? Does shooting another soldier on a field of battle constitute murder? What if they are an unarmed medic? What if they are helping soldiers who will get back up and shoot at you? Is dropping a device that will release so much heat the very air itself will burn moral? But dropping one that releases a gas that kills slowly is immoral? Who drew that line?

Is lying wrong? What if it is to save a life? Or prevent hurt feelings?

There have been attempts to create an objective or absolute moral standard, both theistically and non-theistically. The problem remains, though, that it is a subjective, relativist culturally-impacted human that makes the final determination.

We may claim to use “reason” as the determination—but the question will remain: Who’s reason? Which person? Which time? Which culture? Or a theist may claim a God determines absolute morals, leaving us with similar questions: Which God? Which particular flavor of that God? You will note a common thread—a human. It is a human that tells me what reason to us; a human that tells me what a God is claiming.

And worse, we can see how that human presents an objective moral standard reflective of the culture in which they exist. Like saying, “God says this is absolute blue” when the Russian God determines two blues, the American God one blue, and the Hanuno’o God none at all.

One common attempt to avoid this issue is the claim that while we cannot know what, specifically, the absolute or objective moral standard is—that doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist. While technically true, this does not provide any help at all. Pragmatically it is worthless.

Continuing with our color analogy—what if I told you an alien on Persei-8 had determined what “absolute blue” was (or if there were none or more than one)? Yet we cannot talk to this alien, we cannot utilize this alien—we cannot learn what “absolute blue” is. We are left here, in this world, debating over the existence of colors. Perhaps it is nice to know the Alien from Persei-8 has all the answers for us; but without providing them to us, its still up to us to work out the color pattern.

Merely claiming absolute or objective moral values exist, without any ability to determine what they are, leaves us with nothing. It has been my experience the position never stops there. It is never satisfied with just “existence.” It always wants to take it a step further and say, “Now that they exist, what can we do to find them” while just conceding we cannot find them! Like agreeing the Alien has determined absolute blue, but leaving the Russian, American and Hanuno’o to debate over what, where and how many. Not surprisingly, the absolute moral position immediately attempts to impose its own cultural norm as the “standard” that certainly the alien must use.

If objective or absolute morals exist, they are only of use if we can determine what they are. To exist without verification, without proof, without method is an impotent position.


Thirdly, yes we impose our morals on others.

One of the silliest arguments from the absolute or objective moral camp is this notion that if objective morals do not exist, we cannot impose our morality on others. Posh and nonsense. This is a complete misunderstanding of terms. It is an attempt to win by definition; to define “morals” in such a way to prevail by default.

It is done thusly:

1. The only morals that can be imposed on others are objective or absolute morals.
2. You do not have an objective or absolute moral.
3. Therefore, pursuant to Statement 1, you cannot impose your morals on others.

The obvious question is in the first Statement: Can I impose a non-objective or non-absolute moral upon you? Sure—I know of no claim to an objective morality regarding bedtime; yet I am able to impose my subjective determination of 8:30 p.m. on my children. We impose relative moral standards all the time without thinking. Burp in public and you are shunned. Speed limits. Ordinance violations. Don’t call the next day, get an earful. We interact and communicate (both verbally and non-verbally) all the time attempting to impose our moral standard (regardless of whether it is considered absolute or not) on others. Simply stating, “you can’t” does not make it so.

Or the flip side, it can be phrased, “If morals are only your opinion, you can’t say the other person did anything wrong.” Why not? While I may not preface it with “It is my opinion…” I am still amazingly able to move my lips, make sounds and grammatically state, “You are wrong.” There remains a question of enforcement, of course. I can state it, but can I enforce it upon you?

Yet enforcement is an equal problem for all moral positions. You may claim a God objectively or absolutely determined homosexuality is immoral, yet you (JUST LIKE ME) work though your human interaction with human courts and human legislatures and human advertisements and human votes and human laws and humans enforcing those laws with human prosecutors, human police, human jailers and all human efforts in order to impose these morals. Absolute or not.

We also hear that relativists “act” as if there is an absolute or objective moral standard, thus proving it exists. This is not quite accurate. We treat morals as a standard, because it aids in communication.

Look, you and I may not agree on absolute Red. On our color spectrum sheet, I may have picked a shade far different than your own. Yet in discussing, we can each understand what “red” means. I can tell you, “Stop for the red light” and while we may not agree on absolute red—this does not mean you will disregard ALL reds!

Green.

You and I just thought of a particular shade of color. The chance of it being exact are minuscule. Yet through communication, we can start to compare and narrow down what green we are talking about. If I say, “Road sign green, not snot green” you begin to narrow it down. We can begin to understand and communicate.

Likewise, I can use the terms “good” or “immoral” or “better” and NOT need an absolute standard before understanding these terms. I can use “green” and give further examples, and amazingly enough, we understand each other.

In this discussion I see a great deal of misunderstanding. I see over and over the absolute or objective position attempting to utilize their definition of morals (“Only objective morals can be imposed on others”) and then claim relativists cannot impose morals on others since, by definition, non-objective morals are not “allowed” to be imposed. This fails to take into account how relativists define morals.

Like telling the Russians they can’t have two colors of blue, because, by definition, blue is only one color and those are two shades.

We don’t need “absolute red” to discuss red. To understand the difference between candy-apple red and burnt umber. We don’t hear people screaming “Since you don’t believe in absolute red, you can’t claim there is ANY red!” (Unless, perhaps, they had crayon-envy issues when they were younger.) We don’t need absolute colors to recognize the differences between greens and blues and grays. To recognize other cultures and other times may treat colors differently.

We don’t need absolutes to discuss this issue.

I am far more concerned with how you act than whether you believe morals are absolute or not. If you are a boorish pig, whether you think you are “absolutely” entitled to it or not—I will have little to do with you. What I AM concerned about is that we understand the other person’s position and attempt to interact with what it actually is.

Hopefully remembering how different people treat colors helps in that regard.