"The First Half is Safe, Philippi" a.ka. "Street Preachers Part Two"

(My answers to Ben's questions are at the end of this. I thought, in the interest of keeping Philippi involved, I'd put the more accessible stuff at the beginning, which doesn't require any sort of foreknowledge of the other post.)

Ben posted an interesting response to that "Street Preachers" post I had a week ago and I thought I'd respond more fully in a post, rather than cram a bunch of words into a comment section. Besides, I'd rather bore everyone with this sort of talk rather than just those unlucky victims who wander into the comment section of an old post.

I suppose it's worth regurgitating the stuff I talked about in that old post, but I'd rather not. It's right there if you want it.

Why I’m Interested in Religion et al.

I think I can truly say I’ve never had any serious rumblings about God existing or whether the whole thing might be true in some fashion. I’m not sure why I say this in the beginning except to direct this explanation towards other people as opposed to myself and maybe that’s wrong. But I’m not sure.

It’s true, though, that I’ve never sat down and prayed or seriously imagined that God was real – any god, mind you, any deity or supernatural entity. It all seemed so fantastic, so other-worldly, and not the least bit true.

But as to my deep fascination with religion and the potential existence of any deity(ies): I think it has more to do with my deep desire to understand the way other people think and operate. I find the belief systems of other people so terribly fascinating, not necessarily why they do certain things but why they believe certain things. (Why they believe is more important than why they do stuff, I think, because belief, to a large extent, informs action.)

Like why people believe supply-side economics is a great way to run financial systems when they know nothing about it. Now, if they were economists or had some training/background and had a grasp of the science, that’s a different story. But so many people feel supply-side economics is the way to go without understanding the technical aspect of it one bit – and that’s fascinating. I myself only understand the science to what I would deem is a passable extent, but even that might be not nearly enough to hold a claim. Maybe it's all about belief in authorities, maybe we can't ever know a lot of stuff and so we have to put our belief in someone we think does.

This is the large reason I find belief in religion fascinating, because so much of it is predicated on very little knowledge or substance of the religion and its logical implications. So much is based on very little information given out at church or at home and yet people believe it, readily, and without much awareness of their lack of knowledge.

And that’s fascinating! I can understand why a trained missionary with a sufficient background in theology and the philosophical implications of such would believe in a God/religion. They have reasons and the reasons make sense them. But for most people, it boggles my mind. They just believe, without much care and without much to base it on. And it’s not like they’ve read the whole bible: they’ve read a few books, maybe, been told a bunch of stuff, and God just seems like an okay dude.

Perhaps it’s fear, fear that the people predicating belief on so little have the ability to affect my life in tremendous ways. I’m less afraid of the missionaries with lots of training than of the proportionately greater number of people who just believe, because if they justify belief on so little, then what else? Hating gays? Blacks? Supply-side economics? Voting for the guy who talks better? Becoming an extremist? Of worse: getting passable knowledge informed by liberal views and then hating all conservatives. It’s kind of scary, isn’t it?

That’s what interests me so much, that’s what drives me. If I can understand why people believe in God/religion with so little to go on, then maybe I can understand why people believe other things in the same manner. Of course, why not study someone’s largely unfounded belief in supply-side economics instead of their belief in God? I focus on the religious belief because we can only have so much to go on in that realm, whereas in economics we have graphs, charts, years of study and data, and lots of experts who really know what they’re talking about. Whereas with God/religion, we have a bunch of thought, some of it logical and rational, being spewed by various people claiming authority – there’s much less solid ground to stand on. Certainly economics is not infalliable, and it certainly has errors, mistakes and such (because it's an evolving science) but there's much more to rest my life on than with religion.

I’ve always wondered, too, about how to approach those who say they feel God, or it all just feels right. I’m never sure if I can just toss this thinking into the “psychological not mystical” trash heap or if it means something. I suppose it’s necessarily the most convoluted and misunderstood reason for believing because it’s so personal – only you can know, no one else can experience it. Every time I think about it, I dismiss it with the thought that if it’s so personal then I can’t possibly be involved in it and nor can anyone else. If I experience it, I experience it. If they do, they do. What can I say? I sometimes feel that my belief in God's nonexistence is visceral in the same way: it just feels right, sometimes, like it can't possibly be wrong. What can I say?

And by the way, I should talk about the background that missionaries receive, at least to my knowledge. Jon and I had various encounters with a pair of Mormon missionaries a few years ago, when they came to our house every Wednesday for a chat and what not. I’m not sure why we obliged them at first, but after a while, when our interest was clearly waning, they kept coming and that was kind of annoying. But whatever, they came. I had always heard they were schooled in basic religious philosophy – the logic behind their beliefs – but I never noticed this. I asked them some questions along logically-related paths and the answers were either vague or so far removed from logic as to appear irrelevant to my question. Now, I can’t say anything with regard to Catholic missionaries, but at least for this hapless pair of Mormon missionaries, that was my experience.

So, to encapsulate the above peripatetic thinking: I’m interested in God/religion because the reasons people believe fascinate – and infuriate – me. If they believe with such little evidence (including those well versed in the arguments) then what else will they believe?

Reading over this, I’m beginning to realize, Ben, that you’re revelation (no pun intended) of why you had such a strong interest in God/religion is turning out to be much more powerful than mine, which is based largely on why other people believe rather than why I don’t believe. Harumph – that’s sad.

Does this mean the elimination of desire begets perfection?

Nah, I’m not Buddhist. To want is to lack, and to lack is be imperfect. In other words, to not have something, whether that be strength, some sort of object, or an intangible thought for the way the world ought to work, is to lack something. And if one does not have everything, then one is imperfect. It’s an odd claim, and certainly to say that God can’t desire makes for an interesting Christian worldview.

Does this mean perfection in its entirety is an emotional state of being?

Nah, as well. I would actually think that to be perfect would be to lack an emotional state of being, for to have emotions is to be in a state in which you might lack something. Of course, to not have emotions means God can’t love (but to say God can’t want is to say as much, I suppose).

I guess this really just speaks to the incomprehensibility of God’s supposed perfection. It’s so complicated and full of potential (and actual) paradoxes and contradictions that it’s either A) horribly inconceivable both in our minds and in reality or B) something real that is, however, beyond our comprehensibility and thus we should just stop worrying about it. The latter claim is often employed to say that we can’t know God in the same way we know our neighbor Bob and so we shouldn’t try to understand him up to a certain point. Of course, this begets the question: why should I care about him at all?

Does one have to have the capacity to want without having the want to achieve perfection?

An interesting question. In some muddled form of perfection (they’re all muddled, really) it would seem that this could be the case, especially if we ascribe omnipotence as a quality of perfection. Speaking of omnipotence, I had an interesting question about it that came to me once while reading something for a philosophy of religion class: Has God done everything, committed every conceivable and inconceivable action?

If I recall correctly (and I very well may not), the logic went like this: if God is omnipotent then he has to be able to say anything and mean it – he has to have the ability to say anything and make it true. So God then would have to be able to say “I have done everything (like, say, kill babies).” And if he has to be able to say this and it’s true, then that means God has done everything (like, say, kill babies).

I remember spending days thinking about this and I never worked up the courage to ask my professor, because I was always (and still am) too insecure to approach a question I might be completely wrong about. I was always afraid (and still am) that I would be so off base I might as well quit life. I also thought I might have been on to something, which was scary.

As to my apparent equivocation of want: you might be on to something. I’m thinking, though, about your example of wanting a woman to love you and a woman loving you (alongside that want). So you’re saying that while the woman is loving you (it seems odd to say) you want a woman to love you? Hmm. I’m imaging a constant action of a woman loving you (emotionally, now, mind all those perverts out there – [that would be me]) and you desiring that a woman love you. It seems that at some point your desire would be fulfilled. I’m having a hard time reconciling the notion of you wanting something that is currently being had by you. But again, my confusion may lay in my conception of desire (hence the supposed equivocation).

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Street Preachers at ASU

For the last 8-10 days, two guys have been making regular appearances on ASU's campus engaging in what is colloquially referred to as "street preaching." I've listened and dialogued with them multiple times (more listening than dialoguing) and a few things they've said have peeked my curiosity. The guy I talked to was John, and I never found out the other guy's name. John has crutches because he tore his right ACL, which probably sucks. Also, they were out in front of Coor Hall today accompanied by a number of police officers. I'm interested to know if the cops were preemptive or if there had already been an incident. Whatever.

(I'm going to say right here, just for Ben, that there will be metaphysics in this post as I talk about God and stuff. See, Ben, I DO love you.)

One thing that was very much apparent listening to John and his friend over the course of a week and a half is the belief that God wants us to go heaven, a common notion and one held by John and his friend. What bothers me is the logic, which I'm sure many Christians don't attend to: to want something is to lack that something; to lack something is be imperfect; God is a perfect being; thus, God cannot want us to go to heaven, or else he's not, as normally presumed, a perfect being.

There are those who would assert that logic, like everything, is the product of God and thus he is not susceptible to it. Of course, God gave us things like logic, speech, curiosity (and free will?) so we could discover for ourselves various conclusions about our existence. Obviously he's hoping we'll lead ourselves to faith in him. So, in the course of things, we will necessarily be employing a bit of logic (hopefully a lot) and naturally God will, at times, be in the hot seat. He must realize the limits of faith and so it seems a foregone conclusion that logical reasoning will constitute a large sum of our investigations. Hence his susceptibility to logic; otherwise, what the hell's the point?

A second idea that snatched my interest is the notion that God made everything and controls everything and so we are all subject to his will, a passage that John's friend was apt to repeat at the end of every segment he presided over (which got kind of annoying when he was attempting to draw in people at the intersection of College and University because he would say it every 45 seconds). Aside from what I already mentioned previously about God' seeming inability to want (How does he have a "will" if he cannot want? Further, if he lacks a will, is he perfect?), a few things jump out of my skeptical brain.

First, I wonder about the leap from God creating and controlling everything to our being supposed to submit cosmic authority to him. Just because he has the biggest stick doesn't mean he's right - a la Stalin, Caesar, Reagan, Bush, other dictators/totalitarians/fascists/bleh.

Second, this seems at odds with the notion that God gave us free will so we would come to him of our own accord. It's well-documented throughout the latter half of the Bible that God wants us (if he can want...) to choose him freely, without being forced. So then why isolate and emphasize his absolute power and control? Or that we're all going to hell for sinning (which is another favorite mantra of John and his friend)? This is the same tactic rulers use to subjugate populations, to bring them under an iron heel. It forces us to believe: if we don't then it's our loss and we go to hell - which blows. So aren't I forced to believe in him? (Enter Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov...if you like that book, I guess. Ben does, if I recall.)

A third point of interest was what John and I discussed while standing outside Coor Hall today: objective morality. He dialogued in support of an objective morality, "proved" by God, the Bible, Jesus, etc. I tried to wrest the conversation away from a particular instantiation of objective morality towards a more general conversation about whether objectivity exists or matters.

His view was typical (and I don't mean that condescendingly but literally): God gives us objective truth: without him we wouldn't have it; thus, we need him (notice how this doesn't argue for God's existence but for God's necessity; just because we need him doesn't mean he's there). My view was that objective morality might not exist. He rejoined with a question about how we, in that case, determine right and wrong, good and evil. I suggested the bigger club would write the history. Naturally, he wasn't pleased.

So I talked at length, explored really, about some ideas floating in my head. I thought about how we humans are so afraid of a nonobjective reality that we refuse to entertain subjectivity. We refuse to ask "What if?" We're probably afraid, I suppose, of navigating a world without a safety net from which to operate. Objectivity gives us that net, for if we have a solid, tenable base from which to work, self-justification becomes that much easier (and humans must have self-justification or we explode).

Moreover, how do we convince people to help each other if all we can rely on is power and not objective reasoning? I'm not sure. Humans have spent a great deal of time killing each other and wandering within religion rather than considering subjective realities.

And why not develop a system based on nothing and try to argue cogently for its instantiation? Certainly any tenacious skeptic will refuse to entertain anything grounded in subjectivity (even if backed up by copious amounts of logic), but we only have to appreciate them to a point. It's not a perfect system, but we've just seen that nothing will be perfect, maybe not even God, so we should all just pick something and run with it.

John, however, didn't seem to appreciate my ideas, but he was clearly aware of their severely rational nature, as evidenced by his tactic of slightly altering the subject or calling out to other people in the crowd that had since gathered to listen to us talk (it's really interesting how many people just stop by and gather closely, occasionally jumping in to vigorously and aggressively defend one side or the other). I'd apparently stumped him a few times, or at least moved too fast for him to put it all together (which isn't fair I realize - and I sympathize with him for I find myself unable at times to process everything presented to me; I sometimes need to write it down so I can properly digest it as a whole). I imagine it doesn't help, as well, that I've spent a lot of time considering God and religion, and many more ideas, perhaps, than John has come into contact with.

On that last point: I've listened to a lot of street preachers, more so since coming to ASU - they're everywhere. I'm very familiar with what they're going to say both initially and in response to various attacks and arguments. I'm also aware of the rhetorical tactics they use to get people to think twice about what they believe, especially about right and wrong. For instance, John gave me an opportunity to walk up and start talking to him by asking the passing students if they were any atheists around. I responded affirmatively and knew that he was going to immediately ask about how right and wrong are developed for me and all sorts of things about Hitler and the Nazis to whether or not I've broken any of the Ten Commandments. They tend to run through the same lines of thought while trying to deconstruct the non-Christian's views to "show" that they're of little value. Having this knowledge, it was easy to see where he was going and thus direct the conversation to my advantage and whims.

In any case, God and his Bible have a lot to offer in terms of logical puzzles. Most of them are irresolvable (as far as I can tell) and leave one in a state of constant perplexity. Sadly, many Christians (and let's not forget Jews and Muslims and they're attendant religious paradoxes) don't bother to work through them. Of course, this is really a critique of most religious people, even "hardcore" ones, who are completely ignorant of their own system of thinking. They say they're Christian but are unaware that they've admitted to the severe subjugation of women and the idea that slaves should not rise up against their masters but should sit tight and wait for heaven.

People will argue, naturally, that such notions are era-relevant, meaning they don't relate to modern times (most of the stuff in Leviticus is usually lumped into this group of "outdated precepts"). An obvious rejoinder is to question which precepts are phased out and when; also, why were they accepted into the Biblical cannon if they were time-sensitive? Why didn't God talk to someone and get things updated during, say, the 18th century? Why wasn't there a prophet every hundred years or so that would take the old and the new and save the wheat/cut the chaff? Certainly God with his limitless magisterial powers could make any of the above happen. He sent Jesus, didn't he, floods and all that stuff?

But it doesn't appear that John nor his friend have taken the time to sort all these things out, though, to be fair, I didn't directly talk to John's friend, but from what he was saying I could imagine the similarities to John.

John asked me at the very beginning why I was an atheist. I told him that all decisions are made on the basis of probability because nothing can be known with absolute certainty, a notion to which he assented. I then said that based on everything I've seen, read, discussed, and digested, it was more likely that either God didn't exist or if he did, his nature was radically different from any evident within the Western religious tradition.

After agreeing to the original idea about probability governing decision-making, he didn't appear to feel qualified to respond. I think he asked the girl next to me about Hitler.

(I should add here that Eastern religions, with their courage to embrace and revel in the contradictions and paradoxes obvious in our existence, get closer to the mark, I suppose.)

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Christian Politics and Social Conservatism

It never ceases to amaze me how adeptly Christian Conservatives are able to internally reconcile their Bible with their voting practices.

Try this one out: the supreme anti-Darwinists are Social Darwinists in practice. Makes sense, right?

They consistently practice and encourage economic institutions and policies that browbeat the poor into situations where they are left to scrape through life on their own, and then come right back and argue that evolution and survival of the fittest is all a load of crap. Christian Conservatives are, without a doubt, one of history's great group of ironists.

Matthew must not have been their favorite chapter. In 25, Jesus reprimands those who failed to see him in the poor and downtrodden, who failed to give him food and clothing because he was dressed as a beggar: "I was hungry, and ye fed me not." He says later "Depart from me, ye cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared for the devil and his angels." Fire and brimstone, the favorite imagery of pastors, cast back upon them.

Or Luke 18:22: a ruler asks Jesus how he might come to know heaven and God, and Jesus responds: "Sell all that you own and distribute the money to the poor." This notion seems a far cry from megachurches, inequality, and laissez-faire economics.

So how is it that the original anti-Darwinists came to sustain such dangerous Social Darwinism? Well, it was through a combination of ignorance, evil, and an utter lack of dedication to their book. I suppose it's nothing new, though, considering history.

Think, though, for a moment about the lack of credibility the Christian right maintains because of this. Or, at least the lack of credibility they should maintain. Sadly, even fewer non-Christians know the words that Jesus said, and that's impressive considering the number of Christians who are vastly ignorant of their own creed. How does this world, this nation, this community of peoples allow such absurdity to sustain itself? Here is a group of people hellbent (literally) on defying egalitarian principles and their own book, and yet they proclaim to be the children of God, the ones who preach and spread his gospel. Again, the great ironists of history are here before us, in our own backyard, peddling their contradictions and heresies.

It's this kind of bullshit that infuriates me to the point of non-lucidity. My friends are familiar with this stage, when I slip into a passionate state of anger during which I'm unable to do much of anything we might call rational. But sometimes irrational behavior (violence?) is necessary to overcome irrational and despotic institutions like the Christian right.

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You

Your Creator told you to love. Your Savior told you to love. Your book, your beliefs, your worldviews – they all tell you to love. So why don’t you love?

You are greedy. You want love all to yourself. You want to love who you want to love and enforce legislation that disallows others the same luxury.

You are a bastard.

You are treason to your Book, treason to your God, treason to your Savior.

You are treason to the Love you so dearly profess.

Universal Love does not consist in keeping others from marrying whomever they choose. Universal Love consists in loving – and that’s it.

So you are a bastard, a horrible piece of garbage disguised as something better. You should be ashamed, but it is impossible, because to know shame is to be human. And you are not human. You are less than human. You are garbage.

Go through your Book and tell me where Universal Love requires hate. Go through your Book and tell me where Universal Love requires discrimination, the augmentation of inequality, the complete dissolution of the egalitarian spirit your Savior taught you to embrace.

Your arguments, your reasoning, and your “logic” all fail. Time and again, your “rational” theses about homosexual marriage stand inert in the face of true, rational thought. They stand inert in the face of Universal Love.

So you are a bastard, a horrible piece of garbage disguised as something better. Return to the woods and live like the animal you truly are.

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There Can't Nobody Do Me Like Jesus

So today on campus, at the busiest intersection in terms of both foot traffic and cars (and such), a Catholic Organization (which apparently inhabits a nearby building) decided to protest gay marriage. They came armed with multiple signs, poles to hang them twelve feet int he air, pamphlets...and a bagpiper! Needless to say, for many reasons, I was excited. Any time people gather to protest something, and are so prepared, they deserve attention. I gave them some of mine.

As a preface, I want to say that people are allowed to hold whatever position they want on a given issue. My dissatisfaction stems, in most cases, from a lack of consistency in a person's beliefs. That's usually the point at which I get upset. So, in the future, all I ask, Catholic organization, is that you be consistent in your beliefs.

I first approached the nearest member; he was an older gentleman, with a kindly disposition. I calmly asked him what he found so unattractive about equality.

...

He apparently felt the need to ignore me. After this initial foray, the herd could smell danger; they knew there was a lion in their midst.

I then asked the young guy handing out pamphlets and saying something about Jesus if he felt Jesus was an egalitarian. He asked what "egalitarian" meant, and after explaining that it had a bit to do with equality, he said, yes, Jesus would have been an egalitarian. I then proceeded to ask if Jesus would have supported taking away rights from citizens. He turned away and began handing pamphlets to someone else.

Hmmm. I wasn't getting anywhere. Well, might as well head for the bagpiper; I love bagpipes.

Now, my love for bagpipes is rather strong. And the bagpipe is an instrument that requires precision, exactness, and perfection that is beyond the capabilities of most mortals. For purity's sake, I'll simply give an exact transcript of our conversation. No joke; this word-for-word:

"Hey, man, you blow pretty good, but your pipes are a little out."
"Yeah? Yeah? They're out of tune? Really?" (he was rather defensive)
"Yeah, brother, they're a little off."
"Really. Flat or sharp? Huh? Which one?"
"Flat, man."
"Oh yeah? Do I push in or pull out?"
"Why would you pull out? That would make it worse. Push in, dude."

Then he turned away and refused to say more. I imagine his musicality quiz didn't exaclty turn out the way he envisioned. I suppose he didn't expect an adept musician to give him tuning advice. I wanted to tell him, a bit more forcefully, that he clearly had a deficiency in pitch perception, but I don't think that would have solved anything.

At this point, I was getting blacklisted by everyone, so my conversations were going unheeded. Flag waving and sign holding are apparently taxing activities.

Also, I suspect that none of them share my egalitarian attitude. Come to think of it, I don't think any of them share Jesus' egalitarian attitude, either.

This brings me to the crux of what I see as the misunderstanding between those who support gay marriage and those who do not: the issue is strictly about equality and beliefs concerning the rightness or wrongness of the act are irrelevant. If the lack of gay marriage fosters inequality in the state, then clearly there is a problem with the state. But for some reason, the conversation seems to center on the deontological nature of gay marriage.

It seems a rather easy issue to deal with: what fosters equality is permissible in the state and mandatory; and what fosters inequality must be reevaluated and, most likely, terminated.

So what's the big deal? Why do I get blacklisted for asking simple questions to people who put themselves in public situations in the desire that they will be examined and questioned? It's pretty awful.

Oh, and I guarantee Andrew says something about how I'm beating up on stupid people.

Thanks Andrew. :)

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