Archive for the 'bertrand russell' Category

Holding God accountable

Bertrand Russell, in an essay titled Has Religion Made Useful Contributions to Civilization?, writes:

… Perhaps we might … ask ourselves whether we have any evidence of purpose in the universe apart from the purposes of living beings on the surface of this planet.

The usual argument of religious people on this subject is roughly as follows: “I and my friends are persons of amazing intelligence and virtue. It is hardly conceivable that so much intelligence and virtue could have come about by change. There must, therefore, be someone at least as intelligent and virtuous as we are who set the cosmic machinery in motion with a view to producing Us.” I am sorry to say that I do not find this argument so impressive as it is found by those who use it. …

Then again, considered as the climax to such a vast process, we do not really seem to me sufficiently marvelous. Of course, I am aware that many divines are far more marvelous than I am, and that I cannot wholly appreciate merits so far transcending my own. Nevertheless, even after making allowances under this head, I cannot but think that Omnipotence operating through all eternity might have produced something better. … So far as scientific evidence goes, the universe has crawled by slow stages to a somewhat result on this earth and is going to crawl by still more pitiful stages to a condition of universal death. If this is to be taken as evidence of purpose, I can only say that the purpose is one that does not appeal to me. I see no reason, therefore, to believe in any sort of God, however vague and however attenuated. (emphasis mine)

And I’ve heard others object on similar grounds with something like: “I just can’t believe in a God who would …” and fill in “condemn millions to Hell” or “let little children suffer” or “allow such evil to exist.”

But, I wonder. Does God have to do what WE want him to or think he should? We try to hold God to some “moral” standard that seems right to us. We accuse God of not acting to eliminate evil — should be easy for him, no? After all, God is an omnipotent, omniscient, awesomely powerful being so he should be able to erase evil from the world!

But … God is an omnipotent, omniscient, awesomely powerful being. What gives us the right to hold him accountable for anything he does or does not do? Russell makes the same claim — “I am aware that many divines are far more marvelous than I am, and that I cannot wholly appreciate merits so far transcending my own” — and then claims to be able to see beyond his own limitations — “Nevertheless, even after making allowances …”

But is seeing beyond our own limitations really possible?

The second line of objection I mentioned above can basically be labeled as double standards. God says one thing and then does another. A God of love condemns people to Hell. A God of love allows suffering and evil. God says “Thou shalt not kill” and then kills. God says not to be jealous and then calls himself a “jealous God.”

Here is one example of a double standard that every single person in the world has taken part in — and in most cases, on both sides.

Little Johnny is five years old. He can’t vote, drink, drive, or serve in the military. He must be in bed by 8:00. He should not swear, fight, yell, hit, be selfish or stubborn, or tell lies — even tiny white lies. He must always be polite, share, say “please” and “thank you.” He must eat all his broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and beans. He should not date, make out, watch porn, or have sex.

Little Johnny’s dad, however can vote, drink, drive, and serve in the military. He does not have to be in bed by 8:00. He can swear, fight, yell, hit, be selfish or stubborn, and tell white lies. He does not always need to polite, share, say “please” and “thank you.” He can throw his broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and beans in the garbage if he wants. He can date, make out, watch porn, and have sex (all on the same night, if he wants).

Is this a double standard? Dad tells Johnny to not lie and then tells white lies to Johnny’s mother about how that dress makes her look. Dad tells Johnny to not be selfish and then misses Johnny’s school play because he was too busy. Dad tells Johnny not to swear and then calls Bush a dumb $%&@#$%&!.

Yes, this is a double standard but Johnny’s dad can get away with it because he’s an adult and he’s Johnny’s dad. Now, I submit to you that the gap between God and us is a tad bigger than that between a parent and child. So, if Johnny’s dad is not held to the same standard that Johnny is, then why should God be held to the same standard that we are?

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Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Motivated by Evangelical Anxieties 1: Is Christianity a Religion of Fear? on the Internet Monk I got back to and finished a post I’ve been working on. Bertrand Russel, in Why I am not a Christian, has this to say about fear and religion:

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. Fear is the basis of the whole thing — fear of the mysterious, fear of defeat, fear of death. Fear is the parent of cruelty, and therefore it is no wonder if cruelty and religion have gone hand in hand. It is because fear is at the basis of these two things.

Looking back on my experiences growing up, I can now see that there was a lot of fear. At the time, it was “just the way things were.” Fear was a necessary part of Christianity. Fear kept us in line. Fear was a great motivator. Here are some things that had a large fear-factor for me:

Communion: The Protestant communion we took once a month (you know, the trays of cracker niblets and Welch’s siplets passed around while we sat in the pews) was preceeded by a dire warning (at least it seemd dire to me then) to not be “unworthy” or some unnamed but horrible punishment would be executed on you. So, I spent the entire “quiet reflection” time before each course confessing all the sins I could think of so I would be worthy. For me there was no “In Remembrance of Me” — Jesus was the farthest thing from my mind. I was worried about my eternal soul.

Blame and Punishment: Every sinful act had to be assigned to a specific sinner and said sinner had to feel the consequences of said act. Most of the time, as a child, these consequences consisted of various objects being applied with a non-zero force to my sometimes bare ass. And by every sinful act I mean every. For example, while I was in Junior High School I twice lied about what I had for lunch. The first time I was severely warned. The second time I was spanked on my bare ass with a piece of wood. This was to punish my horrendous lie of saying I had a PBJ sandwich for lunch when I really just had a milkshake. Talk about being scared straight!

Fate of my Eternal Soul: I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal saviour when I was three. Then again when I was in elementary school. Then again when I was in Junior High. Then again when I was in High School. I was sure that I hadn’t done it right or that it didn’t take or that I had screwed up so badly that my salvation was taken away. For whatever reason the strength, power, and help that a Christian was supposed to receive from God just wasn’t there for me so I assumed that I must not have been a true Christian. And there’s no motivator quite like the fear of spending eternity with your hair on fire and TMJ from gnashing your teeth 24/7.

Failure: But despite my doubts about my salvation, I didn’t talk to anyone because that would be exposing my failures to everyone. And if I learned anything from my parents it was to hide all the uncomfortable feelings from everyone. I was expected to be a certain way and I played the part pretty well. It was just too scary to admit to anyone that I was faking it. And there would be consequences to pay and I just didn’t want to face them.

Things I was taught that were based on the fearful idea of “better safe than sorry”:

One Shot Deal: This life is the only chance you get. At the end of this life you are either going to Heaven (which is über good) or to Hell (which pretty much sucks). If you die tonight or tomorrow, that’s it. So, you should believe in Jesus Christ right now because you never know what will happen.

The Rapture: Jesus is coming back to earth again but this time as a “thief in the night.” Suddenly, everyone who is on the right side of the dogmatic fence will be gone — leaving behind the clothes they were wearing, the cars they were driving, the planes they were flying. Then Heaven help the rest of us. No one knows when it will happen. There are signs in the Bible but they are vague and probably every age could come up with a contemporary interpretation. It’s all meant to scare you into believing “just to be safe.”

The Tribulation: Ok, you say. Let the rapture happen and then I’ll believe. Sounds reasonable. But I was taught that there’s no free lunch here. There’s a catch to the wait and see strategy. You see, if anyone has heard about Jesus before the rapture it will not be possible for them to be saved after the rapture. Once again it’s “better safe than sorry.” I have no idea where the Biblical backup is for this position but that’s what I was told.

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Bertrand Russell: The Fallacy of Only One True Religion

I’m starting a series of posts motivated by the book Why I Am Not a Christian and Other Essays on Religion and Related Subjects by Bertrand Russell (1957). I’ll tell you up front that I agree with some of what he says and disagree with some of what he says. I think some of his opinions are right on and others are ill-conceived, illogical, and totally ridiculous.

First from the Preface, written by Russell himself:

I think all the great religions of the world — Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity, Islam, and Communism — both untrue and harmful. It is evident as a matter of logic that, since they disagree, not more than one of them can be true.

A classic argument. Interestingly enough, some Christians make the same claim and use it in their “proof” that Christianity is the only true religion. One oft used “proof” is the Blind Men and the Elephant analogy (also here). The claim is that everyone is totally wrong. Everyone, that is, except for the Christian citing the example and those in his camp who have the ability to somehow see the “real” truth. The problem is that he doesn’t place himself anywhere near the blind men or the elephant. He, apparently, has super powers that let him step out of the scenario, shed his blind fold, see the elephant as an elephant, and allow him to condemn all those poor, poor blind souls to hell for all of eternity. Sort of reminds me of Captain Kirk in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn when he admits to reprogramming the computers during the simulation test and, thereby, wins the unwinnable scenario. All too convenient, if you ask me.

Let me remind the gentle reader what we are discussing here. We are talking about God, Allah, Brahman, Atman, etc., etc., etc. We are talking about a being that creates entire universes by speaking. We are talking about a being that knows our innermost thoughts and feelings. We are talking about a being that is totally beyond our comprehension, our imagination. And yet one religion gets it right?

Let me use a contrived example to illustrate. You, me, and Bob are sitting around drinking some really, really good bourbon. Bob says, “I’m thinking of a number between 1 and a gazillion. Guess what it is.” You immediately shout out “42.” I immediately start screaming at you “You’re wrong! It’s not 42. How could it be 42? It’s 7427466391!” and begin flicking lit matches into your hair to simulate the eternal torment you will endure in hell because you are wrong.

That pretty much describes the situation. I can no more know what number Bob is really thinking of than can our elephant-seeing Christian really, truly, completely know God. And if he cannot really, truly, completely know God how can he say that someone else’s understanding of God is wrong?

Paul even backs me up in I Corinthians 13

  1. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
  2. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
  3. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
  4. For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

This is Paul talking. You know, St. Paul. The guy who spoke to Jesus — and Jesus spoke back! The guy who wrote a fair amount of the New Testament. He, St. Paul, said that “now I know in part.” Even St. Paul didn’t have all the answers; even he didn’t know what number Bob was thinking of. Is Zacharias really claiming that he knows more than St. Paul? If Paul only knew “in part,” then we, not having spoken with Jesus directly, can only know a fraction of an “in part” and that’s probably not a whole hell of a lot.

But what does this have to do with ol’ Bert? Russell seems to undervalue religion when he claims that conflicting religious ideas cannot both be right because he assumes that man can know god (in whatever form you want to picture god) completely enough that he is able to pass judgement on another idea of god. He also seems to overvalue man’s ability to “know”; if I don’t have the full picture and you don’t have the full picture then who’s to say that both our ideas are not two different aspects of the same, full picture?

For example, let’s assume that god is a cylinder and you and I, in our imperfect, limited, all-to-human knowledge can only see projections of god. I look at god and see a rectangle. You look at god from a different angle and see a circle. Are our two viewpoints necessarily mutually exclusive? Well, obviously not because god is neither a rectangle nor a circle — god is something beyond both our ideas.

In fact, the real answer is to combine our apparently-disjoint knowledge which would allow us all to refine our ideas of god. It’s like those SAT questions where you are given three projections of a three-dimensional object and have to pick the right shape. If you only have a single projection, there is no way you can get the right answer because you don’t see all the details of the object’s surface.

It seems to me that what we really need to do is take the most disparate religious ideas and try to fit them together for it is the disparity itself that tells us we are looking at very different parts of God or we are looking at God from very different angles. It also seems to me that the mystic religious traditions do exactly this. Mystic Christianity has a lot more in common with mystic Islam and mystic Judaism than the main-stream religions have in common with each other.

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