David Bentley Hart on the Gnus

May 7, 2011 • 12:21 pm

Nay, if there be any mistakes in the Bible, there may as well be a thousand. If there be one falsehood in that book, it did not come from the God of truth.John Wesley

In about a month Pepperdine University is going to have a Christian Scholar’s Conference; the star speaker is National Institutes of Health director Francis Collins, speaking on “Reflections on the current tensions between science and faith”.  (I understood that Collins was going to ratchet down this kind of science-and-faith stuff when he resigned from BioLogos, but I guess not.)  Another keynote address will be by this fellow, David Bentley Hart, a well-known theologian—curiously, of the Eastern Orthodox dimension.

Take a look at the enemy: smooth-talking, dismissive, and smug, calling Dawkins philosophically naive and spouting Augustine to show that every good Christians knows that the Bible is to be taken allegorically, and that the “monster God” of the Old Testament is merely one of those allegories.  But an allegory for what? And is all of scripture an allegory, or are some parts true—like the divinity of Jesus? (Note that, at 3:05, Hart mentions “the truth that was revealed in Christ.”) If so, how can we tell which parts? If not, then how does the Bible differ from any other work of fiction?

People like this irk me far more than fundamentalist Bible-thumpers, for they should know better.

Signs

May 7, 2011 • 8:56 am

This sign could be at only one place—the Seattle airport:

Taken by a friend in South Africa:

On the road between Lone Pine, California, and Death Valley National Park, where I used to do field work:

And at a rest stop near Peterborough, England (home of a spectacular beer festival):

The sad, naive atheist-bashing of Rabbi Yoffie

May 7, 2011 • 5:01 am

I wish Eric MacDonald would stick to Anglicans, Catholics, and other Christians, and leave the rabbis to me.  I noticed that, at Choice in Dying, Eric took down Rabbi Eric Yoffie, president of the Union for Reform Judaism, who wrote a dire piece at PuffHo called “The sad, naive atheism of Christopher Hitchens,” referring to Hitchens’s wonderful letter to the American Atheist convention.  (We’ve seen Yoffie before, arguing that a god must exist because it gives our lives meaning and purpose.)  Curious to see what is sad and naive about Hitchens, who doesn’t usually evoke such adjectives, I vowed not to read Eric’s piece until I wrote my own.  After all, Yoffie is nominally one of my people.

Yoffie’s piece is short and can be disposed of quickly.  It makes two untenable claims about Hitchens:

  • His view of religion was naive, for he neglected the benign and sophisticated faiths.  Yoffie sez:

In his missive, Hitchens equated religion with the actions and proclamations of bullies, tyrants and “nuclear-armed mullahs,” all of whom promote “sinister nonsense” and carry out unspeakable crimes while claiming that God is on their side. Hitchens has done this many times before. There is nothing new in these claims and neither do they have any merit. He is not attacking religion but extremism carried out in religion’s name, often as a cover for political and ideological radicalism.

Any system of belief or action can be distorted or carried to extreme lengths. But if one washes oneself a hundred times a day, one is not discrediting soap; rather, one is raising questions about its obsessive and inappropriate use.

This is an extremely common argument against Gnu atheism.  We’re only attacking the “bad faiths” (usually taken to mean Southern Baptists and radical, jihad-bent Muslims), not the “good ones” (presumably including everyone else).  And even the bad ones aren’t religions, they represent “extremism carried out in religion’s name.”  But, as I’ve argued before, religion often enables bad behavior, and much of that behavior wouldn’t occur without religion (see my earlier post on “What does it take to blame religion?”)

I do think there’s a lot of truth in Steve Weinberg’s claim that “for good people to do evil things, that takes religion.”  I won’t recount the list of religions whose adherents practice nefarious, faith-based behavior, but they include Catholicism, mainstream Islam, Mormonism, many evangelical Christian sects, and yes, Eric’s own old faith, Anglicanism (Eric left the church because it resolutely opposed the assisted suicide of his terminally ill wife).  And I’ve already listed the malfeasances, which include repression of women, sexual fear and loathing, opposition to divorce, refusal to sanction condoms and birth control, leading to the spread of AIDS and the proliferation of unwanted children, instilling guilt and terror in the young, opposition to gays and lesbians, as well as stem-cell research, and many more.

This is not, contra Yoffie, “extremism carried out in religion’s name, often as a cover for political and ideological radicalism.”  These are views and actions that come straight from religious doctrine.  Hitchens had it right.  Yes, there are almost completely benign forms of faith, like that practiced by the Methodists I visited this January, and I don’t spend a lot of time grousing about them.  But it’s absurd to claim that only a tiny minority of faiths have pernicious doctrines, or inspire pernicious behavior.

  • Contrary to Hitchens’s claim, there is no “innate solidarity” of humans—a solidarity that gives strength to Hitch during his illness. Any intra-human solidarity comes from religion.  The Yoffster:

As a religious person, I believe that human beings have a tendency toward solidarity — and indeed, that it is divinely implanted. Nonetheless, it is no more than a tendency, and a rather weak one at that. (The word used by Judaism is “inclination.”) By itself, it is incapable of impacting our behavior in a significant way or of creating strong moral bonds. The purpose of all major religions is to cultivate and strengthen this tendency and to develop it into compassionate concern; compassion, after all, is the basis of moral thinking and the foundation of that fundamental decency to which Hitchens refers. But the point is that it is a mistake to speak of solidarity as “innate.” Solidarity is not the starting point; it is the result of systems of belief and behavior that have been developed and practiced by communities of common concern — and without question, it is religious systems of belief and religious communities that are the most effective vehicles for developing solidarity and offering compassion over time.

For a rabbi, Yoffie is deeply muddled.  He argues that it is “a mistake to speak of solidarity as ‘innate'”, but then argues in the same paragraph that some of it is innate, and that was implanted by God. Second, Yoffie seems oblivious to the fact that humans are social animals, and we’ve evolved to be so.  In a very real way we need the cooperation of our fellows, and have evolved to feel solidarity with them.  But we’re also evolved to look out for ourselves (for example, we favor our children and our tribe over others), so there will be constant conflict between our social and selfish tendencies, particularly in modern societies that are very different from the environments in which we evolved.   (Bob Trivers’s ideas on the evolution of parent-offspring conflict are only one example of the war between solidarity and selfishness).  Solidarity with a broader humanity can come from secular moral reasoning that takes off from our tribal instincts; Peter Singer’s The Expanding Circle makes a persuasive case for this expansion.

And religion creates human solidarity? Don’t make me laugh—religion is one of the most divisive human institutions ever devised.  Think of Sunni versus Shia, Muslim versus infidel, Catholics who think everyone else will burn in hell, Southern Baptists versus Methodists—the list is very long. It is inherent in religion to think that you alone have the eternal verities, and everyone else is wrong.  Not a great recipe for “solidarity and compassion.”

Once again, a mush-headed rabbi has made me ashamed to be a Jew.  Still, I’d be interested in readers’ answers to this question: to what extent has Gnu Atheism hurt itself by conflating all faiths, including the “benign ones”, as being harmful?

Caturday felid: The Cat Whisperer

May 7, 2011 • 3:52 am

From AOL Weird News we learn that on May 7, the Animal Planet television station will begin a series about problem cats, “My Cat From Hell.”  Heavily tattooed musician Jackson Galaxy is The Cat Whisperer, who claims that there’s no kitteh so bad that he cannot help it.  Note the cat-taming kit he carries in a guitar case:

And you think your kitteh is bad? Check this out:

“One of my clients was a big guy who moved in with his girlfriend who already had the cat,” Galaxy told AOL Weird News. “He was trying to be understanding of the cat — until it started peeing in his mouth while sleeping.”

Although Galaxy is a cat lover, he concedes the idea of drinking cat urine while snoozing is unpleasant.

“However, the hardest part was getting the guy to calm down,” he said. “I understood why he was upset, but, to me, the real issue was what was coming out of the guy’s mouth that made the cat want to urinate.”

The solution turned out to be a real snoozer: Galaxy recommended the client go through a sleep study and, sure enough, the man had sleep apnea and snored very loudly.

And, as we cat-lovers would like to believe, problem cats are often the fault of the owners:

Galaxy’s job is to be a sort of pussycat shrink, but, in many cases, it’s the owners who need help more.

“One of my clients was a woman who blamed her cat for breaking up every relationship,” he said. “Apparently, the sex noises freaked out the cat and he would maul the guys*.

“This kept happening, so, obviously, it was her making the noises, not the guys — but she wouldn’t answer that directly, and I didn’t want to go there either.

“However, the big question was, ‘Why was she leaving the door open anyway?’ And psychology suggests she didn’t really want a boyfriend.”

The show’s webpage has several other instructive videos, including “How to pet a cat” and “How to read a cat’s body language.”

________________

*While in graduate school, I had a pet skunk who would behave this way.

No miracle healings

May 6, 2011 • 10:12 am

There’s been a long history of skeptics refusing to accept divine “healings” because those healings are precisely the sort that could occur spontaneously.  We never see the type of cure that would be truly miraculous.  In “Seeing and believing“, my strident New Republic article that ticked of all the accommodationists, I recount this possibly apocryphal story:

After seeing the objects cast off by visitors to Lourdes, Anatole France is said to have remarked, “All those canes, braces and crutches, and not a single glass eye, wooden leg, or toupee!”

David Barash, the resident Gnu at the accommodationist-riddled Chronicle of Higher Education, takes up the issue in his latest post, “Does God hate amputees?”  He’s writing about the beatification of Pope John Paul II—the penultimate step to sainthood.  Beatification requires one documented “miracle,” and the Catholic Church found it in a French nun who prayed to John Paul and recovered from Parkinson’s.  A bit of Googling showed Barash that similar recoveries have happened without divine intercession.

Barash then wonders, as did Anatole France, why God can’t cure stuff like severed limbs, plucked-out eyes, or even lopped-off heads.  He’d apparently missed (as he admits at the end) one of the most famous atheist websites, Why Won’t God Heal Amputees?, which deals not only with that burning question, but also about the efficacy of prayer in general.  I suspect most of you have seen this, but if you haven’t it’s worth a browse.  It considers all possible religious answers to the question, and demolishes every one.  There’s simply no good answer to that question, for if God can cure Parkinson’s, there’s no reason why He can’t regrow a limb.  The only explanation is that God doesn’t perform miracles, i.e., there’s no theistic god.

There are two other points to make about the road to sainthood.  First, beatification and canonization used to require a quasi-scientific procedure in the form of a “devil’s advocate” (advocatus diaboli), a Church-appointed official who would argue against a candidate, questioning the “miracles” and so on.  (Beatification requires one verified “miracle,” canonization two.) This procedure, which began in 1587, was, ironically, abolished by John Paul himself, and by so doing he managed to move a spate of people closer to God.  As Wikipedia notes:

This reform changed the canonization process considerably, helping John Paul II to usher in an unprecedented number of elevations: nearly 500 individuals were canonized and over 1,300 were beatified during his tenure as Pope as compared to only 98 canonizations by all his 20th-century predecessors, which has led many to question the validity of the process and whether all of those canonized today are deserving of the recognition.

Second, the process of canonization itself, whereby an individual becomes a saint, actually confers on that person a divine status, for saints (unlike those beatified) are supposed to be able to communicate directly to God.  That’s why people pray to saints, and of course there are particular saints for particular professions or issues.  If you have an earache, for instance, it’s most efficacious if you pray to St. Polycarp; if you’re a compulsive gambler, you pray to St. Bernardine of Siena.

Now the Catholic Church maintains that they’re actually not conferring sainthood on people, but recognizing sainthood.  But that of course presumes that their ludicrous vetting somehow helps them instantiate God’s will.  And it leads to testable hypotheses: are prayers answered more often if you pray to a saint than to God alone?  And if you have cancer, will you be more likely to be cured if you address your ministrations to St. Peregrine Laziosi?  We all know the answer.

Our inner fishes

May 6, 2011 • 5:35 am

No, this isn’t about Neil Shubin’s wonderful book about fossils, fishes, and evolutionary remnants, but a an article by Dr. Michael Mosley on, oddly, the BBC News “health” page.  You must see it, if only to watch the 30-second time-lapse video (made from high-quality scans) of the development of the embryonic human face up to ten weeks.  As Mosley explains (and the video shows), our fishy ancestry explains that curious groove between our nose and upper lip, the philtrum.  Have you ever wondered why it’s there? It doesn’t have any obvious adaptive function.  It’s an evolutionary remnant.

The video (which I’m unable to embed) shows this clearly, but Mosley explains:

The early human embryo looks very similar to the embryo of any other mammal, bird or amphibian – all of which have evolved from fish.

Your eyes start out on the sides of your head, but then move to the middle.

The top lip along with the jaw and palate started life as gill-like structures on your neck. Your nostrils and the middle part of your lip come down from the top of your head.

There is no trace of a scar; the plates of tissue and muscle fuse seamlessly. But there is, however, a little remnant of all this activity in the middle of your top lip – your philtrum.

This whole process, the bits coming together of the various elements to produce a recognisable human face, requires great precision.

To fuse correctly the three sections must grow and meet at precisely the right time in the womb.

If the timing is out, by as little as an hour, the baby may grow up with a cleft lip or cleft lip and palate, which can be extremely disfiguring. Around the world one in 700 babies are born with clefts.

The incipient philtrum (screenshot from the video)

Mosley also explains two other odd developmental features explained only as remnants of a distant ancestry:  the descent of our gonads (sound like the title of a Darwin book) from the body cavity, and hiccups, a series of spasms that is uncomfortable for us but was adaptive in our amphibian ancestors.

Joni

May 6, 2011 • 3:54 am

No last name is needed for the woman (b. 1943) who may be the greatest popular singer/songwriter—as writer, instrumentalist, and vocalist—of the last forty years.  She wrote beautiful, complex, and personal music, was a great guitar player and pianist, and had a fantastic voice. (I use the past tense here, as her more modern stuff doesn’t resonate with me.) And she is a creditable painter.

That’s a triple play, matched only, and arguably, by Stephen Stills and James Taylor.

Here are two of her live performances [Note: if the videos are temporarily down here, I’ve also linked the the YouTube videos.]

California“:

Woodstock“:

Back in the 60s, she was the woman every guy wanted.

I will entertain comments about other rock/folk musicians who can match all of her musical talents.