A Rational God

Technically I'm agnostic; I can't say for sure that there is no god, and am therefore open the existence of one.

The distinction is uselessly pedantic, however - I am only open to the existence of a god because I can't be certain that a god doesn't exist. I still choose to believe there is no god.
I feel it's an important point to make, since it's effectively the same application of faith everyone else makes - nobody knows they're believing the right thing (which is a significant facet of faith), and so technically, they're open to the existence of a different god, an additional god or no god - but it's the choice you make that defines your faith. Otherwise we'd all be agnostic.

What is agnosticism then?
We could clumsily refer to it as being a personal choice to not apply a specific faith - you're open to any of the possibilities, but choose not to select any of them.
I have, in the past, uncharitably described agnostic friends as being "faith lazy", but really not allowing one's faith (or atheism) to be a defining characteristic of oneself doesn't lift any of the human responsibility to convey oneself in a moral and ethical way throughout the world.

Note that each person's definition in this area tends to differ - terms such as "strong atheist" or "gnostic atheist" (that is, one who knows that there is no god), weak atheist, and agnostic tend to be used to mean different things to different people. I guess it's enough to say that the above are my definitions, and I'd like to think I've described them enough for people to get the gist, as opposed to just saying "I am an atheist".

All that rubbish aside, I thought I'd take a moment to flesh out why I've chosen to believe in no god, rather than to simply refrain from making a choice.

I guess for myself, at this point in time, I have some qualifications for god - I require god to be omnipotent (that is, effectively capable of doing and knowing anything), which is probably a non-controversial attribute. I also require god to be rational, in a way that is at least understandable in a human capacity. This is not necessarily so non-controversial.

A theologian will probably take issue with the concept of restricting god to human rationality, but it might help if I mention that this restriction is for the good of simplicity - if god is beyond human rationality, then what good is it arguing the finer points of what such a god wants from us?

Put another way - if god is beyond human reason or rationality, then god is beyond the ethical and moral constructs that many of us are so quick to assign to his will.

Consider this scenario - bear with me, because I'm going to lay into the CARM people a bit, and they probably don't deserve it.

Let's say a man is the chief of police, and he knows a gang will be headed to some honest citizen's house with intent to destroy and rape. Let's also assume that said chief of police has a window overlooking the action. He sees the gang threatening the owner of the house and he sees the owner of the house toss out his own daughters to be raped.

Such a chief of police is a dick (to say nothing of the father). By human standards - of almost any period of history - someone who has the knowledge and power to prevent something like that from occurring and doesn't has failed in their humanity.

But wait! CARM has the answer for these kind of things - people are dicks, but god tolerates it.

This fails the test for my requirements for god one way or another: if you subscribe to the "god knows better than us, and it's part of his plan" philosophy, then god is still a dick; he needs to have a better plan than one where people get raped. He is not rational by human standards, and is as at fault as our hypothetical police chief.

There is another possibility, and that is that god is bound to operate in this way - it's part of his plan, because he can't execute it with no injustice. In which case god fails the omnipotence requirement.

Certainly it's still an oversimple argument, and anything like this becomes complicated by discussions of free will and so on and so forth. But the fact remains, we can imagine a world better than the one we've got, so as far as I'm concerned, an omnipotent god could have delivered that world. And if an omnipotent god did not do so, then such a god is a dick, and I refuse to even bother to give him my faith - what's the point?

So there it is - I can't see, based on the evidence available to me, that a god can exist who fills both my requirements, and I therefore choose to reject all possible gods, opting instead for the mild absurdity of atheism.

What would it take to change my mind regarding my belief in god? Is there some evidence that could be provided to help me reconcile a rational and omnipotent god with one who would allow injustice and suffering?

Well no - but that said, I am as yet unable to imagine such evidence, and if I could even think of it, it'd probably soften if not alter my view. But at the present time, I cannot.

This is, of course, entirely human - the concept of evidence when applied to faith is, rather perversely (and, somehow appropriately) irrelevant - it'd be hard to imagine some kind of evidence which would change the faith of any of the world's theists, and to be honest, I'd be disappointed if it could. That's sort of the point.

The Trouble with Satanism II: Revenge is for the Weak

It may come as no surprise that I frequent the elegant prose delivered at Bad Science.

A recent article put forth an interesting idea for discussion - how satisfying is revenge, really?

The result (of this admittedly very preliminary study) was, in short, "not very":

Asked how they would feel about punishing their adversaries, students said they thought it would make them feel better. They were wrong. The participants who were offered – and took – the opportunity to exact revenge actually felt worse afterwards than the ones who had no such opportunity.

Well then... what the hell? I mean, I always figured I was a pretty soft touch, so while aware of my own distaste for vengeance, I didn't really think that other people would feel the same way.

Now obviously, you can't put too much stock in a study like this - the most we can conclusively draw from it is that further studies are probably worth doing. But this, in itself, is pretty exciting for me, since I've never felt strongly about questioning the idea of immediate emotional payoff for the avenger.

Since I like hammering largely helpless and tiny religious sects, let's relate this back to our friendly LaVeyan Satanists. What does LaVey have to say on the topic of revenge?

If a man smite thee on one cheek, smash him on the other!

He goes on to coin this quaint little adage: "Be as a lion on the path - be dangerous even in defeat".

This concept is actually pretty appealing to a testosterone spiking male - Why the hell wouldn't you smack a dude back? Also, let's roar and beat our chests afterward!

Well, okay, I expressed disdain for this attitude last time I addressed LaVeyanism, citing how helpful the culture of vengeance had been in Gaza et al.

Okay, so if following the instinct to trade blow-for-blow isn't the right way to live, what is?
What is the "humanist" (or whatever) approach?

Surely the first question should be, "Why did a man smite me on the cheek?"
Certainly, it's possible that someone might attack you entirely unprovoked, but honestly, you're convincing neither me or the teacher on duty in the playground. Here's an opportunity to learn and develop as a human being, instead of regressing into one of the animals LaVey seems to hold in such high regard.

Would LaVey honestly put forth such a simple teaching, given how counter-productive it is upon inspection?
Well, ignoring the fact that, yes, he has, I'll concede that probably he doesn't mean it - it's just poorly expressed, and pretty poorly interpreted by the people who aim to follow his writings. Apparently, it's hard to accurately discern "religious" work from 60 years ago, 1500 years ago and 2000 years ago. Go figure.

(I'm guessing this is why mystics spend all their time talking in riddles - at least it gives people from other/future societies the wiggle room to think for themselves without worrying about "letting down the holy person")

But I can't just pick on LaVeyans - why not be even handed and tackle some of the Christians who've managed to miss the point of their teachings?

Well, actually, I don't need to - it's already been done.

The "Church of Satan" (which is a hilariously confused and contradictory term - I honestly can't help thinking of the people who take this shit seriously as being 14 and really angry) apparently acknowledges that non-members can still practice Satanism.

I wonder if that pastor recognises that what he's doing has nothing to do with Christ and everything to do with Anton LaVey.

Give us something new

The gods of everyone should wake
And wag their sleepy tongues
Give us all here something new to read

(light fingered from The Righteous Corn Farmers' Grate)

Bear with me for a moment; I'm going to whine.

Circa 2000 BC, the Jewish faith comes into being. The last of the texts of the Hebrew Bible is committed to physical form at roughly 500 BC (though I may well be wrong here as I haven't done very thorough research, it shouldn't detract from my line of thought).

Circa AD 50, the first texts that make up the New Testament are put to parchment (or whatever). The last texts are completed a few hundred years after (giving the benefit of the doubt to a later creation).

Circa AD 500, Muhammad receives the word of God from the angel Gabriel. That was recorded maybe... AD 700, if the scribes were slow.

At this point I'll level with you, I know very little about Hinduism. So if anyone provides me with rough dates for the creation of Hindu scripture, I'll take that into account.

That issue aside, what we have here are three of the most influential (and in the case of the Islamic and Christian faiths, largest) religious bodies' texts that haven't been significantly updated in 2500, 1600 and 1300 years respectively (obviously they've undergone translation and to a greater extent, interpretation, but there's been no new content).

Why? What happened? I'm most comfortable discussing the Christian texts, since I have more of a background with those - the faith was alive and breathing for a few hundred years and then... splat. It stopped.
Of course - there's still Tradition (for those of you who are Catholic) or the writings of the more prominent Christians through the ages - but none of this stuff gets appended to the existing Bible.

It's like they compiled the damn thing over a few hundred years and then... stopped.

Each faith has really shone during its time - in fact, if you look purely at membership numbers, the legacy of the "glory days" of these faiths has blessed them with worshippers in the billions.

But the core texts for these faiths have stopped... the legitimacy for change, growth and progress has been reduced to reinterpretation in the context of society.

Which is fine... but gone are the days when someone overbearing can write things to redact vestigial trappings of past dogma.

That said, I'm not without hope for the future - the various faiths obviously have relevance in today's society, and all faith denominations move on, whether they move slowly, at a medium pace or almost in keeping with the actual world.

Things will get better, and religious teachings have no choice but to stay current in one way or another - but it's just frustrating sometimes to see the lack of any new definitive texts.

Self Help Books

I don’t understand the allure of self-help books, the advice given is common and drivel and can be offered by any level headed person if only you’d ask. Yet I picked up a copy today, titled “Ask God” – a journey a spiritual faith and growth. The author, sunk to an all-time spiritual low, in desperation pours out his resentment, frustration and anger in a letter addressed to God. Much to his bewilderment, God replies to his letter and they now share a more personal relationship than ever. 

Self-help books are one of the fastest-selling categories of books. However, their effectiveness in actually resolving issues or improving the reader’s quality of life is unknown. Yet millions upon millions of copies are sold each year, with testimonials from past readers on the back cover to “certify” their effectiveness. Is this a demonstration of the clever marketing techniques we’ve learned to deploy? Or is this a blatant demonstration of how hopeful the human race can be? 

Who do we turn to in our bleakest, darkest moments? Some turn to their family or friends, others turn to other sources of comfort – food, drink, drugs or partying. Yet when backed into a corner with no other means of escape many turn to a higher power, “Save me Lord” would not go astray when one is in dire straits. When confronted with death, it is not uncommon for a terminally ill patient to turn to a higher power, it promises security, safety and best of all - life. One of our basic human instincts is to recreate life. Sex is a primary focus of our lives – it is the most searched subject on the internet. Life is inbuilt in us, we live to create, to pass on our genetic material to the next generation. So when the age old question presents itself – what happens to us when we take our last breathe? It brings along a flurry of emotions, excitement, doubt and most of all fear.

 Death is any mortal’s final destination in life, from Emperors, kings or presidents – none can evade their fate. Apart from it being inevitable, it is also unknown – generation upon generation, men have battled death with their wits only to return empty handed. A higher power is the only logical conclusion men have deduced. Men have worshipped spirits and idols for as long as history cares to dictate them, a higher power gives mankind hope, it gives mankind something to grasp when the unknown bears down upon us, it assures us that yes – we will be able to live on.  

There is no substantial evidence, scientific or otherwise, that proves that there is a higher power - just hope. Religion, like self-help books hold many promises, “We’d help you become a Millionaire before you hit 40!”, “Find eternal life with fountains of wine and gates of gold” sound eerily similar. They both offer a series of steps – build your portfolio, invest in a term deposit account, baptisms and confirmation events and sacrifices are to be made at certain times. Yet how many readers succeed in fulfilling the promises that are given to them by these self help books? We see “Over 20 million copies sold” written on the front cover, yet we do not see “Succeeded in assisting 20 million people in becoming financially successful”. How many people receive their just rewards promised to them by their God? Nobody knows, yet people continue purchasing self-help books, people continue to believe. Whatever for? Hope.

So why do I believe when I know that there are no guarantees that living my life in a certain way will grant me access to heaven? I believe because I have a fear of death and the unknown, I believe because it is better to believe and hope than not to hope at all. I believe because it gives me security that no matter what, I will be loved, I will be forgiven and I will be taken care of forever. 



I bought the book. 

The Trouble With Satanism, Part 1

It was slightly surprising for me to discover that one of my housemates was in possession of the Satanic Bible.

Actually, I didn't even know there was a Satanic bible, per se, until he told me he owned one.

Now, the natural reaction for anyone (I'd imagine) upon hearing of such a thing would be to expect it to be a little... freaky. It's frankly not. I was told in no uncertain terms that there wasn't anything really objectionable in the Satanist's philosophy, and that's at least partly true. Let's take a look.

First up, the term "satanism" has a pretty broad meaning - even more so than the terms "Christian" or "Muslim", at least to my eye.

Wikipedia is a reasonable start, though it'll suffice to say that whatever you think satanism is, the Satanic Bible (by Anton LaVey), is probably somewhat different. This is because it's LaVey's creation from start to finish, with no real foundation from any other philosophy (non-economic philosophy at any rate).

I should mention at this stage that I was warned about LaVey's... curious... attitude towards... well, what can only be described as "magic" or "sorcery". I suspect (like any other purported religious document), his work is a product of its time, but then there are many many people even today who honestly believe the movement of the stars has some secret information about our day to day lives, or that one can devine water in the ground and so on.

Magic (in the non-theatrical sense) is utter nonsense. I refuse to accept otherwise, and it's one of the few areas in which I have no doubt whatsoever - there are no psychics, ghosts, telekinetic people, deviners, sorcerors, demons or little levitating men (with or without carpets). There simply aren't. Maybe we'll one day produce a human who is able to detect magnetic fields, or communicate telepathically, but right now, we can't. And anyone telling you otherwise is either very silly or trying to sell you something (or sadly, both).

LaVey starts his work with a preface rambling about magic - white and black magic, secret grimoirs and "esoteric rubbish" (his words). He states that with "very few exceptions" they are "sanctimonius fraud".
This isn't a good start for a genuine skeptic. "Very few exceptions"?. Such a lukewarm or muddy beginning to the book that claims to have a sane and rational answer to the question of the ideal religion does not provide comfort for the likes of me.

However, overlooking his slightly bizarre and contradictory affection for "magic", we can take a look at a few of the principles he sets forth:

*Indulgence is put forth as the proper replacement for abstinence.
LaVey makes a rather peculiar distinction between "indulgence" and "compulsion", but that doesn't come until later, so we shall leave it too.

*Vengeance is put forth as the correct response to one who wrongs another.
I begrudgingly set aside my distaste for LaVey's fondness of magic, but he's struck out on this count as well. Vengeance is not equivalent to justice - revenge is also not a mature or civilised response to an event. Revenge is something which typically springs from instinct - it's a knee-jerk reaction. But then again, vengeance could be considered an indulgence, so I guess it's at least consistent. It hasn't seemed to have worked out so well in northern Ireland or Israel/Palestine, but I digress.

*A mention of psychic vampires. He doesn't explain at this point what such a thing is, but his explanation (tedious though it is) will appear as piss-poor as it sounds, just not in the way you think. Seriously. Psychic vampires. That might have sounded cool when I was 12.

*An assertion that human beings are "just another animal" and "more often worse" than our other animal counterparts. Apparently we're the most vicious animals of all.
I daresay it wouldn't take a biologist to point out a few differences separating human beings from  the rest of the animal kingdom, but as someone who believes in the ideal of humanity, I guess I'm biased.

---

In this post, I'll address only the first point listed here: Indulgence vs Compulsion
LaVey states (roughly, I can't find the exact quote amongst the turgid prose) that indulgence is consciously feeding a want - food, sex, possessions, while compulsion is turning your want into a need.

This is frankly bullshit. Compulsion is what causes us to fucking eat in the first place. Compulsion is what drives the animals that LaVey so holds up as an example. You feed a goldfish, the fuckers don't stop until they explode. That's not indulgence, it's just too damn stupid to stop eating.

Religion doesn't ban possessions (as a rule) - certainly if one feels called to be a monk in the middle of nowhere, that's probably going to be a given, but nobody is forcing anybody to take that path. Religion isn't a barrier to good food, drink or material goods - obviously it isn't, take a look around you. There are more believers than agnostics and atheists, and there are a tonne of unnecessary goods and services around for our society. To say that religion encourages one to give up all pleasure is patently false - LaVey is either deliberately ignoring this fact, or he simply doesn't get it (either being equally likely).

He then goes on to run through some of the (hilariously anachronistic) deadly sins; gluttony, he says, is "simply eating more than you need to keep you alive", and it may well lead to obesity, in which case, he asserts, "pride, another deadly sin" will kick-in and motivate you to excercise in order to lose weight and (presumably) look good again.

Does that argument seriously appeal to anyone? I'd like to know how many psych graduates would read that nonsense without flinching.

We live in a world in which assisted weight loss is a huge money spinner - if precious pride alone were the solution to our obesity "epidemic", I'd be a damn sight slimmer than I am now.

Here's a thought, Anton - how about instead of hoping your chain reaction of utterly unlikely events occurs, we just don't over-fucking-eat to begin with?

That way, I can engage in sloth and still be thin.

No, seriously, what the fuck? Where was he going with this?

Let's step back and take a look at "indulgence, compulsion and abstinence" in a slightly different (less utterly fucking stupid) light.

I abstain from overeating, and as a result, I don't get fat (or more importantly, heart disease).

Sorted. Simplest solution, right there. Now, let's assume I indulge my fat face all the freakin' time. How easy is it to abstain from overeating then?

It fucking isn't. My indulgences have been trained into compulsions. If I'd excercised some self-control, this wouldn't be an issue.

LaVey's unwillingness or inability to equate religion's "abstinence" with common garden-variety "self-control" is one of the first of the failures of his religion (which by the way has really taken the world by storm, congratulations on being a major world power, tiger). Sadly, there are many more.

What could have been an interesting discussion or rough guide on how to live a moral life without the need of that morality being handed down to us from a higher power, is just another preachy book written by a guy with a god complex. More on that later.

Oh yeh:

As a post-script, I apologise if this post started out sounding almost reasonable and then wound up in a heap of cynical contempt, but from the little I know of the man, I don't much like Anton LaVey. His criticism of religion isn't what bothers me - religion has copped far worse (and better phrased) criticism than his, it's his attitude of "god-given" rightness. There's no room for doubt in LaVey's world - as far as he's concerned, each person is an island and a law unto themselves, but this is so obviously not true, I have to wonder where he and his followers get the gall to be so hypocritical - for me, the LaVeyan Satanist is only just a notch below the fundamentalist Christian as far as irrationality goes.

A Change of Heart

See more comics from Calamities of Nature

(No, I haven't had a change of heart :-P)

What God Wants

(Stolen from David Shrigley's Why We Got the Sack from the Museum)

God wants spiritual fruits not religious nuts.
God wants mankind to live together without arguing.
God wants us to learn French.
God wants the clever skilful people to look after the dimwits.
God does not want us to give him clothes for his birthday - there is no point doing that - mankind has no clue what kind of clothes God likes - unless God specifically asks for a specific garment, then mankind should just give God money or a gift voucher.

---

Would the world be a better place if more people were gift vouchers?
I like to think so.

Hypocrisy

Perhaps the most conflicting part of being in the atheist closet is the participation in religion when one is without belief.

While I still "had" my faith, there were certainly aspects that would give me cause to cringe or sigh, but they had few lasting effects (unless you count their contribution to my eventual lack of faith, in which case, I suppose that's a pretty damn lasting effect).

These days I still attend a Catholic Mass, primarily for the benefit of my girlfriend; she provides the music each week and is honestly one of the few redeeming features of that particular congregation.

The issue however, is that participation within a Mass requires vocal adherence to the faith and dogma - every damned "amen", just about every communal prayer is a pronouncement of one's belief and promise honour one's faith.

Certainly, I could sidestep the question of my presence there - "Oh, I'm just there for the girl. Oh, I'm there because it's something familiar, something from my upbringing", and perhaps those might have some truth to them.

But the fact remains - I'm taking part in a ceremony in which I have no right to take part.

If I refuse to participate, I can't hide the fact I no longer believe. But in participating, I'm a hypocrite. I don't fear reprisal from the heavens, obviously - but when I speak the Apostles' Creed or take communion, I know that I don't believe it.

The attendance isn't really so much an issue (for the reasons above), and in a strange way I sort of indulge in the cringeworthy homilies or theological faux pas undertaken by the resident priest (he's somewhat old fashioned, I'm decidedly not).

But having to participate 2-3 times a month in a ritual of belief and faith, when I have no belief or faith is starting to seem absurd. It's somehow disrespectful to those who do believe, despite the fact they have no idea I don't.

The whole scenario is utterly alien to me, but it's been going on for months now, and still doesn't feel any more acceptable. Even worse, years of Mass attendance has conditioned me - I have to actually concentrate to avoid saying various responses or prayers, on the odd occassion I can do so unnoticed.

Strangely, the "alone time to pray in your head" parts of the Mass are perfectly fine - I've somewhat adjusted to this as an opportunity to sort my head out and run through various problems (the absence of a god to pray to during times of desolation has not, however, been as easy - I'll post on that another time).

In the meantime, I'll just carry on taking part in this peculiar act, while envying the people who still have their faith and the ones who never had it to begin with.

On Belief, and the value of Belief

"The Devil and a friend were out watching the world go by.
A young man walked past and stooped down to pick something up. Said the friend, "What was that?"
The Devil replied, "A piece of the Truth!"
"You aren't going to just let him walk off with it?"
"Of course," said the Devil, "It won't do him any good - he shall turn it into a Belief!"

My inelegant retelling of someone else's retelling might at first suggest that belief is itself a denial of Truth; but since I suspect there isn't really any such thing as Truth (in a spiritual or philosophical sense) it doesn't really matter. Let us turn instead to the purpose and nature of Belief.

The Firefly episode Jaynestown, deals almost entirely with the idea of belief, in particular belief in falsehoods or inconsistencies.

Of the three separate storylines, the one detailing Shepherd Book and River is the more obvious.

When River inspects the preacher's bible, she finds inconsistencies, contradictions and logistic impossibilities. She sets out to "fix" his bible.

The Shepherd attempts to explain that faith isn't something to be fixed. That the content of the bible is internally inconsistent or outright impossible isn't important - the belief in something in order to change one's life for the better is the purpose of faith.
Much like the often fruitless discourse between atheists and the religious, River fails to understand him at the time, and Book allows her to keep his torn pages.

The substory involving Inara and Fess addresses the purpose of rituals and symbols - both having no physical place in the real world, but having genuine psychological significance. Inara notes that the loss of Fess' virginity has nothing to do with his being a man in any real sense, but it is a ritual of significance to his father. She explains that he doesn't feel any different because he isn't really any different - that he questions the nature of his manhood at all is indicative of his being a man already.
Heartened by his experience, Fess gains the courage to stand up to his father - and emulate a hero of his, the only other man to have ever done so. Although knowing that nothing has actually changed, having experienced his ritual has enabled him to "become a man" - something his father can no longer deny. Faith in a physically purposeless ritual has a genuine physical presence and purpose.

The main storyline addresses that of Jayne's legend among the poverty stricken "mudders".
Even though it is revealed to them that their belief in his heroism was completely wrong, they are still prepared to give their lives for him.

The physical embodiment or idol of their "messiah" - the statue of Jayne, for which the mudders caused a riot - is destroyed by Jayne himself, in front of the entire township.

Yet even so, Jayne bitterly guesses that they will probably restore the statue.

The significance here isn't Jayne - he's not the hero, god or saviour of the people. Their genuine saviour is their belief in who they thought Jayne was.

A grieving and impassioned Jayne confesses to them that he is not any sort of hero, and never meant to drop money on the town, saying "There aren't people like that! Just people like me!"

But the mudder's belief that someone free and important cared about them - them - is what caused them to stand up as a whole against their tyrant. Belief, albeit false, brought the township together and fuelled their community.

So do people who believe in falsehoods or impossibilities do so knowingly? Do they do so in spite of knowing the ridiculousness of their faith?

Perhaps some do - and if so, why?

Belief is a powerful and benevolent force in our lives. We are actually capable of lying to ourselves, both knowingly and in ignorance of the lie (seen an optical illusion lately?) in order to achieve something or to just survive.

Of course, as a result there are those who would exploit belief in the ridiculous in order to profit from others - whether knowingly or not - and we have a world full of "alternative medicine", cults, religious persecution and a whole rash of believers in paranormal events.

People believe in a god, ghosts, the afterlife, psychics, magical healing water and more, because it hurts so much to address the fact that we're tiny and insignificant. That we are a result of chance and that nobody cares about us.

Is it any wonder the world has to cling onto some kind of belief, even when it should know better?

Perhaps one day we will grow up and face the fact that the only ones who care about us are here among us - we can't rely on a god, a force of nature, the power of telekinesis or anything else to rescue us from our foolishness, or protect us in times of desolation.

There's nothing but us.

And so it is that I profess my belief - my completely unfounded and indefensible belief.

I believe in humanity.

One day, we might dust the mud off our clothes, tip our hat to the statue of Jayne, and stand on our own two feet to face the magistrate.

In the meantime, those of us prepared to acknowledge the flaws and falsehoods of our former beliefs would do well to also acknowledge how important and significant they were to us, and are to everyone around us.

Because all we have is here and now.

Doubts and Loves

A favourite of mine:

A Place Where We Are Right

by Yehudi Amichai

From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the spring.

The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.

But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plow.

And a whisper will be heard
in the place
where the ruined

house once stood.

---

Without wanting to labour the point, doubt, or at least, the possibility of doubt is part of what fuels all religion and is a characteristic of the best mystics (and just Nice People generally).

Why?

"Getting things right" is fundamentally unimportant - I'm not talking about accounting or building bridges - obviously in these cases it is, but in most areas of life - and particularly faith, religion and philosophy (as well as life experience), being Right isn't actually necessary, nor is it particularly desirable.

This isn't new - lots of people have come up with the same basic idea before me, but I don't think it is particularly popular, among the atheist and believer alike.

Doubt is the very thing which makes faith worthwhile, just as hard work increases the value of the money it earns, or a strong hunger results in a more delicious meal - without doubt, faith becomes wholly unremarkable (to the individual), and one can become somewhat vindictive and largely useless to one's faith (from both an evangelical and retention perspective).

Of course, telling this to a person who is experiencing a "crisis of faith" is just as useless as telling them there is no god - if things were that simple, they wouldn't be having the crisis in the first place.

Greene's Monsignor Quixote touches on this topic on many occassions, in particular in the priest's dream, wherein all mankind knows of the existence of Christ, and the priesthood is, therefore, pointless (as, Monsignor Quixote feels, is faith itself).

I feel the sentiment is exemplified in this delicious quote:

"It's odd, he thought, as he steered Rocinante with undue caution round a curve, how sharing a sense of doubt can bring men together perhaps even more than sharing a faith. The believer will fight another believer over a shade of difference; the doubter fights only with himself.''

How true, indeed.

Another proponent of doubt is Richard Holloway himself, from whom (in addition to Amichai) I stole the title quote.

More interestingly, the lack of doubt displayed by mainstream church leaders as well atheist apologists (such as Dawkins, who is no doubt often right, but still a dick) leads them to be largely unloved by one side or another. Contrast these with, say, Ghandi, and you can see how universally loved and powerful such a philosophy can be.

Ghandi was undoubtedly one of the most skilled at the practises of doubt and faith, and pretty much every religion wanted him exclusively for themselves.

Such selfishness!

A man assured in his faith might choose to align with one religion, but for Ghandi there are no simple answers:

"Yes I am [a Hindu]. I am also a Christian, a Muslim, a Buddhist and a Jew."

What could be more beautiful and powerful than the ability to see the power and beauty of all relgion?

Science and reason cannot deliver such philosophy, and while our society and industry needs to run on science, we live our lives by our philosophies.

The outspoken atheist is as obnoxious and irritating as the evangelical Christian - each believes themselves to be right, and both either preaches to the choir or attempts to convert the disinterested.

What place do you have to preach your Being Right to those content in their faith? Leave well alone, and ask that they do the same to you.

Certainly, real danger lies in the hands of those who would enact faith as politics - and here is the real fight for the proponents of reason.

When the misapplication of faith and the upright belief in one's own puritan nonsense (of either the secular or religious variety) results in forcing one's way of life onto others, you've gone too far - the prevention of gay marriage, the prohibition of recreational substance use - these are not useful to society, and they should be fought with reason.

Faith itself, should not.

Crude vessels, housing immortal souls

Recent events have resulted in my defending the purpose of religion in the modern world to my very Catholic girlfriend.

This has been both surreal and difficult, given I'm a newfound athiest who is as yet, unable to "come out" to the people around him.

As this is my first post, I'll start by trying to outline my intentions for the blog, and some of my own personal philosophical or moral foundations.

Actually, forget that.

I'm tired and I'm angry. We've reached the point in society where we're educated enough to question the existence of a creator; some people find themselves reassured after some pondering, others find themselves doubting.

It's the doubting that gives me cause for complaint - when someone who had no faith becomes (say) Christian, they are said to have "found God" or "found faith". This is a beautiful thing in whichever church is applicable - there are celebrations, there is joy felt by all around.

Often there are ceremonies and rituals to cement this person's conversion and show their commitment to their faith.

When someone who has been a part - particularly an active part - of a faith questions their beliefs, or the denomination and organisation to which they belong, there is no celebration.

Perhaps, if one is Catholic, there is a furtive confession, or for other Christians, a chat with the pastor or another mentor. In many cases, one does not admit to these doubts and questions.

This can be (depending on the severity) a "crisis of faith".

Although to some extent, modern faiths encourage members to question and test their beliefs, there is an understanding that this is done within a controlled environment - a kind of passive question/answer session in which one is reassured of one's position and can happily carry on with their lives.

There is no celebration when a member chooses to leave their faith behind and view the world purely in their own terms - religion could not exist along such lines.

The leap from faith to a view of the world without a god or an afterlife is (to many people) terrifying and filled with despair; yet there is no real structure, ceremony or ritual to allow people to pass from faith to atheism.

I don't have any answers.

I don't particularly want any answers. But I do want to untangle my own faith - there are no rituals when one "finds atheism" - but there can always be the therapy of writing.