Atheists, reason, and science

Who has a monopoly on reason? Tom Gilson of The Stream recently wrote an article challenging the idea that it’s the atheists who are the reasonable ones. He asks, “Why Do Atheists Think They’re the Party of Reason When They Reason So Poorly?”

He first pecked away at the idea that science has the answers (part 1). Now it’s how science handles mistakes and atheists’ aversion to the burden of proof.

2. Atheists hate being wrong

Gilson tells us,

It’s as if there’s some moral duty never to draw a false conclusion: Better not to decide at all than to decide wrongly…. They build a fence to keep out all wrong answers.

And this is bad? I’ve never heard of caution as a problem. Eventually, he arrives at his point.

This is why they insist that atheism isn’t a belief, it’s a “lack of belief” in God or gods. Every atheist I’ve met has believed the universe is made of matter and energy and physical law and absolutely nothing else, but not many will own up to it. They’re not about to get trapped in admitting they believe anything.

Wrong. Some atheists prefer “I have no god belief” over “I believe there are no gods” because it makes clear who bears the burden of proof—it’s the Christian. There is no Christian equivalent of the cautious “I have no god belief.” Christians must shoulder the burden of proof when stating their worldview, while atheists don’t.

That the universe is the way it is for natural reasons alone is the default hypothesis. Science has given us countless natural explanations for how disease works, where lightning comes from, and so on. Gilson’s hypothesis is that a god spoke the universe into existence—a god who looks like all the other Bronze Age gods popular in the Ancient Middle East 3000 years ago. Yahweh is about the most unbelievable hypothesis possible, and those advancing it have the burden of proof.

This Christian ploy shows no confidence in their argument and is, frankly, cowardly. When you make the extraordinary claim, you have the burden of proof. And why the reluctance to give the argument? Why hide behind the burden of proof? Aren’t you eager to share the Good News?

Science’s limitations

Next, we get a little trash talk, that science only focuses on solvable, testable problems. Science is perpetually optimistic—if it’s stumped today, maybe it’ll figure things out later. And science can’t help us determine right from wrong.

Remember that this is the Christian talking, someone whose discipline has taught us nothing about the real world. The internet, GPS, computers, medicine, improved crop yields—none of the science or technology that improves society came from the Bible or divine revelation.

While science won’t tell us right from wrong, it can provide the data to help make moral decisions. For example, science can help understand how limited tax revenue can be best spent to help disadvantaged communities or how to diversify energy consumption to reduce climate change.

See also: Christianity’s Bogus Claims to Answer Life’s Big Questions

Gilson tells us that Science can only assist with ethics, not be the final arbiter. And then Religion blunders in like a drunk uncle and insists it has all the answers to moral questions, supporting those answers with no evidence. And the answers in one church differ from those in the next church down the street. Pick a moral issue—same-sex marriage, abortion, euthanasia—and you’ll find devout Christians taking every position in every moral argument.

The parishioner seeking a church doesn’t use some objective standard to find the most accurate version of Christianity but instead finds the best personal fit—how far away the church is, if they have daycare, how they answer the moral issues you’re most annoyed about, how energetic the sermon is, if they’re friendly, and so on. When the truth of a congregation’s message is tested against the parishioner rather than some perfect standard, let’s not overestimate how accurately a denomination has divined God’s will.

It’s hard to figure out Gilson’s motive here. He tosses out attempted insults with no self-awareness, as if Christians criticize from a position of strength because their worldview has the answers.

Bug or feature?

He complains that science refuses to answer any question that’s outside its domain. But since science is the domain that answers all the questions, maybe that’s a feature, not a bug. If science says we don’t have enough information, the correct response is to admit this and not force a poorly evidenced conclusion. Religion by contrast stumbles ahead based on no evidence: “What came before the Big Bang? That’s easy—God creating the Big Bang!” Or “Where did life come from? I know—God did it!”

Why hide behind the burden of proof? Aren’t you eager to share the Good News?

Religion is eager to settle a moral problem within society, but note the differences with Science. Biblical morality is contradictory, and you can dig up a verse that will support just about any position you want. It’s static and doesn’t evolve. It’s dictates from God, not conclusions built on evidence. And there is no consensus within religion worldwide besides that the supernatural exists—not even how many gods exist or their names.

To illustrate how unreasonable atheists are, Gilson says,

I’ll ask them to suppose, just for example, that there’s a God who wants to reveal Himself through history, sacred writings, and nature.

And I’ll ask them to suppose that rocks are sentient, and they want us to worship them. Who’s with me?! Or are we allowed to insist on good evidence for remarkable claims?

[Scientific reasoning] says, “Nope, I’m not gonna fall for it.” But that’s as good as saying, “I know for a fact there’s no God who wants to reveal Himself.”

I know for a fact that no omnipotent god has made any reasonable effort to make his presence known to everyone. Am I entitled to conclude that?

Concluded next time, with a look at “honest” atheists.

“Creation science” bears the same resemblance to “science”
that “Biblical archeology” does to “archeology”,
“religious truth” does to “truth”,
“homeopathic medicine” bears to “medicine”,
“alternative facts” do to “facts”,
or “Fox News” does to “news”.
— commenter RichardSRussell

Maybe atheists don’t reason so well after all

Ten years ago, I attended the Reason Rally on the National Mall in Washington DC with 30,000 of my closest atheist friends. It was claimed to be the largest secular event in world history.

Tom Gilson of The Stream (the love child of conservative Christianity and right-wing politics) still can’t get over it. He said he wrote his book True Reason (2014) in response.

Now he’s back to have another try with Why Do Atheists Think They’re the Party of Reason When They Reason So Poorly?

Can a Christian really be putting their worldview up against a scientific one?

Who’s reasonable?

Gilson tells us, “Interact with atheists much, and before long they’ll tell you they’re the reasonable ones…. It’s as if they’ve anointed themselves as The Party of Reason.”

So then the Christians are the reasonable ones? This should be good.

He began by attacking Richard Dawkins for labeling it “child abuse” when “parents raise their children to believe in religion.”

Indoctrinating a child into unevidenced beliefs when they’re not mentally mature enough to fight back is analogous to hitting a child who’s not physically mature enough to fight back. Children who survive physical, verbal, or sexual abuse can be scarred for life. That’s also possible for a child raised in a cult. If this isn’t child abuse, then what is it?

Gilson next complained about an anonymous atheist commenter. He says he shut down the atheist with a single devastating post summarizing the atheist’s record of logical fallacies. Gilson concludes his illustration of the problem saying, “Yet they still think of themselves as The Party of Reason.”

Uh huh. After that tsunami of two examples, I see why you’re skeptical.

What explains atheists’ claimed unreasonableness? Gilson gives three points.

1. Atheists are all about the science

Gilson gives us an odd combination of a decent evaluation of the value of science followed by criticism as if he knows of something better.

Science has a special lock on reason in this crowd. It’s not because scientists’ reasoning processes are better than logicians’ or historians’ or even theologians, though. It’s because science is “objective,” “self-correcting,” and therefore “less biased” than other lines of thought.

Yes, science’s secret ingredient is its process, not that its practitioners are necessarily smarter than theologians. He next cautions us that science isn’t perfect.

Science is a human project, not a mechanical one. Scientists can lock themselves in biases as much as anyone else. And even at its best, science comes up with wrong answers. Like geocentrism, phlogiston, and “physics is complete.”

I’m not sure that scientists’ biases get through its process as easily as they do for theologians. And I’m tensing for what seems like an inevitable, “And I know a better way!” with an evidence-free appeal to some sort of divine revelation.

But we’re spared that. Since he won’t compare them, I will. The scientific method is the best approach we have to channel human curiosity and avoid errors. Religion has done nothing to teach us about reality. Can a Christian really be putting their worldview up against a scientific one?

Continue: Gilson explains atheists’ unreasonableness with two more points.

See also: Christian Nonsense from People Who Should Know Better

The scientist believes in proof without certainty,
the bigot in certainty without proof.
Let us never forget that tyranny most often springs
from a fanatical faith in the absoluteness of one’s beliefs.
— Ashley Montagu

5 ways to clarify the Problem of Evil

We’ve been responding to a Christian argument, but now it’s our turn. Let’s look at the Problem of Evil in five new ways that Christians rarely touch. (The first article in this series is here.)

1. Must all worldviews answer the Problem of Evil?

The basic idea behind the Problem of Evil (PoE) is, Why would a good God allow bad things to happen to good people? It’s a contradiction: an all-good and all-powerful God apparently coexists with loads of bad in society. It doesn’t make sense.

Some apologists play games with the Problem of Evil, trying to redefine it, but this only admits the problem is unsolvable on its face. The atheist has no PoE to deal with—eliminate the god, and the problem vanishes.

And here’s the irony: not only is the atheist free of the PoE, but you needn’t even leave Christianity to avoid it! Marcionism and Gnosticism—flavors of early Christianity that have since died out—say that the god in charge on earth is a different guy than the one who sent us Jesus. In other words, complain all you want about the idiot in charge of the world. Jesus and his (unnamed) father wouldn’t mind because they’re not in charge. They throw the demiurge (the Gnostic name for the god in charge) under the bus, and responsibility for every imperfection in the world goes along with him.

But because early Christianity saw itself as a flavor of Judaism, it’s stuck with the Old Testament, in which the Jewish god claims credit for creating the world and the problems in it. Oops.

They make God into a conservative radio pundit, warning about the erosion of family values and threats to gun rights.

2. We are this way because of God

The buck stops at God’s desk. If God wants us to have a courageous and compassionate character, he could have made us that way. God could put into us any lessons we learn from adversity—he is omnipotent, remember.

We can work free will into that. You’re free to hit your hand with a hammer, but no one does that. We could’ve been created with a similar aversion to sinning. That is, we could sin, but the idea would be as attractive as hitting yourself with a hammer.

And consider that God already curtails my freedom. I don’t have the free will to use my laser eyes. He also prevents me from using my telekinetic killing power. If he has no problem eliminating these capabilities, why not prevent me from using a knife to kill someone?

You might say that handling knives is part of reality and telekinesis isn’t. And that’s true—after God created us with one ability and not the other. It’s arbitrary (as an aside, this is exactly what the hand of evolution looks like).

Imagine God at his drafting board designing us. Is there is a simple algorithm that separates abilities that we should get from those we shouldn’t? If so, explain that algorithm. If not, out of an enormous set of abilities, God chose the ones to prohibit, and stabbing someone could’ve been one of them.

3. Christians admit they don’t know

Christian apologists have a poor argument when they argue against the PoE, and they often admit as much. They might even play the “I guess I’ll have to ask God when I get to heaven” card.

Let’s be clear on what they claim about God: they’re not saying that it’s possible he had a good reason for every evil from a murder to leukemia to the Holocaust. They’re saying he did have a good reason.

Okay, then what was the reason? For example, what good came from the Holocaust to outweigh the bad? What did we learn from the 200,000 people killed in the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami to make it morally worthwhile?

The Christian will plead ignorance, of course. And that’s fine—I won’t insist on the explanation. What I insist on is an explanation. Give me plausible explanations where the net good outweighs the bad for cases like these that are especially troubling. Without this, your defense of God against the PoE becomes just a retreat.

I have four demands of apologists who make the “God could have reasons to allow evil that we can’t even imagine” argument. First, admit how bad the PoE makes God look. Regardless of whether God is justified, admit that he looks to us like a Bronze Age barbarian when he allows evil that he could effortlessly prevent—evil that we would prevent if we could.

Second is the point discussed above: if you say that God could have his reasons, you must give some. That is, move from vague, ungrounded, “Oh, you’ll gimme that one, right?” handwaving to specific, plausible reasons for actual evil events in the world. They don’t have to be God’s actual reasons, but they do have to be convincing enough to show us that God could’ve had reasons.

Third, does “God” even exist? We can worry about God’s reasons for evil after we have solid grounding that he exists.

Fourth, why would God allow suffering when any goal he can achieve through human suffering, he can achieve without it?

4. Christians, do you understand God or not?

Christians boldly step forward to explain the puzzles to which they feel they have a solid answer but dial back the confidence when they aren’t so sure. God is understandable here but inscrutable there, and for some reason this confusion is fine with God.

This is part of the larger problem of the Bible’s “difficult verses” and the popular principle to interpret difficult Bible verses through the lens of easy verses. The problem rarely is that the difficult verse really is hard to understand. More likely, it’s unpleasant or causes a contradiction. The “difficult” label is a euphemism, and there are thick books of “Bible difficulties” that try to paper over the awkward passages.

Here’s an example. God said “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18), but he also killed everyone in Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 19:24–5). Is the latter passage difficult to understand? Not at all. It may be unpleasant to see God so destructive, but the meaning is clear. Or take the passages where God drowned everyone in the Flood or God approved of slavery or God demanded human sacrifice. It may be painful to imagine the anguish God’s policies caused, but they’re not hard to understand. Drop the insistence that God must come out looking good, and it’s easy to take these at face value.

Here’s a problem God’s defenders don’t embrace. The more effective they are in backing away from those verses they don’t want to understand, the less trustworthy they will be when they actually do claim to reliably understand other parts of the Bible such as the inherent wrongness of same-sex marriage, euthanasia, birth control, or abortion. They make God into a conservative radio pundit, warning about the erosion of family values and threats to gun rights.

But given the doubt they admit to, how can we trust any of their moral claims come from God?

5. Are we being gaslighted about our moral intuitions?

Suppose you see someone being assaulted. Before you jump in to help the victim, ask yourself if this is part of God’s plan. You can’t see the big picture, but God can, and perhaps this assault is part of his plan. Perhaps it will create a net positive.

Perhaps, but who acts that way? No one stops to wonder if they’re in Alice’s Wonderland and that what seems to be the obvious best moral action is not. If I stepped in and violated the free will of the attacker, I assume I’m the good guy in the story.

Or consider a parent grieving the loss of a child. What parent would be satisfied with, “Well, it’s all for the best”?

But if God has a plan, doesn’t that erode your confidence that you know the right moral path? Shouldn’t it?

On one hand, we’re told that Man was made in God’s image, so we should share a moral sense. Both Abraham and Moses debated morality with God and talked him down from a more violent position. But then the Problem of Evil forces God’s defenders to ignore that shared morality, telling us that God’s ways are not our ways and undercutting our confidence in our moral sense.

When God demanded Abraham sacrifice his son, this was a moral test, and the correct answer was No! But apparently that’s wrong, because this was actually an obedience test, and a sick one at that.

We’re being gaslighted! Christians’ moral reality is being challenged, and when they are no longer sure which way is up, they can be used by the religious Right.

One’s mind can play tricks, they’ll say. Suppose the thought crept in that same-sex marriage is good for some people, and really, what’s the harm? Or the thought that the abortion focus would be more effective if it moved upstream, reducing unwanted pregnancies rather than making abortion illegal. Or that no, America really isn’t a Christian nation.

Luckily we have our local pastor to correct those moral failings and how to vote.

When we don’t understand God

When skeptics see God in the Bible acting like a petulant Iron Age king, the Christian response is that we don’t understand God. God’s ways are not our ways. But if his actions make no sense, what’s he good for? Why introduce him in the first place? Imagining God explains nothing. It just gives those Christians an angle to attack our understanding of moral reality.

John Allen Paulos in Irreligion said about God, “Is there such a shortage of things we don’t understand that we need to manufacture another?”

You either have a god who sends child rapists to rape children
or you have a god who simply watches and says:
“When you’re done I’m going to punish you.”
If I could stop a person from raping a child, I would.
That’s the difference between me and your god.
— Tracie Harris, The Atheist Experience

Christians who attack atheists need to know their opponent

We’ve already explored supposed atheists who want the atheist community to acknowledge the benefits Christianity has provided to society and the powerful arguments in favor of Christianity. Why don’t such “atheists” just declare themselves Christian?

Here’s another example, an atheist who laments the consequences of the atheist worldview. Dozens of Christian articles gushed about this atheist attacking atheism, but the first was “The Inevitable Consequence of An Atheistic Worldview” (2014) at the Cold-Case Christianity blog. I’ll first respond to the atheist’s points and then consider Christian apologists’ reactions.

An odd atheist 

I’ll use a masculine pronoun for this anonymous atheist because he was dubbed “John” in the original article. He begins by stating the atheist’s position, with a goal of showing that we’re all alone.

We believe that the Universe is a great uncaused, random accident. All life in the Universe past and future are the results of random chance acting on itself.

Not exactly. It’s an accident in that there’s no evidence for it being intentional, but there are scientific laws which govern the formation of universes and the creation and evolution of life. Rolling dice is “random chance,” but natural selection tuning life to be well suited for millions of environmental niches is not.

While we acknowledge concepts like morality, politeness, [and] civility seem to exist, we know they do not.

Someone needs a dictionary. These words are clearly defined, and, as defined, they exist. What I think he means is that there are no objective forms of these traits, just the human-created ones.

This error is widespread among Christians, but from an atheist? Perhaps this atheist isn’t especially experienced in the typical Christian arguments and the fallacies to avoid.

John says that “there is nothing in my world that stops me from killing you and reproducing with your wife,” but he forgets that nothing in King David’s world stopped him from killing a man (Uriah) and reproducing with his wife (Bathsheba), either.

John again:

But make no mistake: all our dreams, loves, opinions, and desires are figments of our primordial imagination. They are fleeting electrical signals that fire across our synapses for a moment in time. They served some purpose in the past. They got us here. That’s it.

I imagine John Nihilist sitting alone in a dim corner of a basement café, wearing a beret and a black turtleneck, reading Sartre or maybe Nietzsche and smoking Gauloises as he sips coffee and muses about the utter meaninglessness of it all. It’s a shame that only objective meaning would satisfy him, because the regular kind works well for the rest of us.

One could wonder if this is a parody (and it gets worse), but since the Christian community has taken it as an honest statement, I’ll interpret it that way, too.

See also: Does This Atheist Have a Point? Or Is This a Sycophantic Poe?

John fights reality

John describes those “dreams, loves, opinions, and desires” as “fleeting electrical signals that fire across our synapses … that’s it.” Humans nurture children, create, and build only because out genes tell us to. We’re just bags of DNA. “Eat, sleep, reproduce, die. That is our bible.”

He says this as if it’s a dark, embarrassing truth, but it’s just reality that well-adapted adults deal with easily. John’s problem is approaching the effect at the wrong level. Let me illustrate with another example. You could talk about love at the chemical level or, worse, at the quantum level, but why would you? Not much poetry about love is written at this low level—you focus instead on the personal level. We don’t disprove that love exists when we can explain the biology behind it.

Are you marveling at the importance of love, or is the topic neurobiology? Pick one.

Or another example: you can talk about how evolution works with the different species represented as game pieces that Evolution pushes around like pebbles pushed by mindless waves, but there is no human emotion or meaning at that level. Return to the level of the individual if you want to talk about laws, civility, and morals.

And back to John’s approach: yes, you can look under the hood to see how synapses, genes, and DNA work, but why then add dreams, love, creativity, and family to the same sentence? It’s like a magic show: you can enjoy the show in the audience, or you can peek behind the curtain to see how it’s all done, but these two approaches don’t mix.

This reminds me of Christian apologist William Lane Craig in anguish when, as a child, he learned that we all die. Yes, Dr. Craig, we all die, but that provides no evidence for Christianity. And yes, John, we can focus on synapses and DNA, but that doesn’t mean we can’t move on to consider love, dreams, and meaning.

And now, morality

John really jumps the shark when he moves on to morality.

Outside of my greedy little gene’s need to reproduce, there is nothing in my world that stops me from killing you and reproducing with your wife. Only the fear that I might be incarcerated and thus be deprived of the opportunity to do the same with the next guy’s wife stops me.

Nothing in your world stops you from raping and murdering? There is in mine. Penn Jillette nicely slaps this one down:

The question I get asked by religious people all the time is, without God, what’s to stop me from raping all I want? And my answer is: I do rape all I want. And the amount I want is zero. And I do murder all I want, and the amount I want is zero.

John says that “there is nothing in my world that stops me from killing you and reproducing with your wife,” but he forgets that nothing in King David’s world stopped him from killing a man (Uriah) and reproducing with his wife (Bathsheba), either. The Christian could respond that God punished David for his sin, but that misses the point. John claimed to have found a weakness in the atheist worldview not shared by the Christian worldview, and he failed (h/t commenter epicurus).

Humans are social animals, and evolution has favored pro-social behavior—trust, empathy, compassion, and so on. According to John, however, atheists like me who don’t ’fess up as sociopaths are “inferior” and “just a little bit less evolved.”

He’s so out of touch that I do wonder if this guy’s for real, but let’s set that aside. What’s more interesting is how he’s been received within the Christian community. They should instead poll atheists to see if many think this way. I know of none.

Study one religion, and you’ll be hooked for life.
Study two religions, and you’re done in an hour.
— Anon.

(This is an update of a post that originally appeared 2017-8-28.)

Christian apologist avoids chance to demonstrate objective morality

A couple of years ago in a town in central England, a tragedy happened that could have been the archetypal “evil stepmother” fable, but this was no fabrication. A six-year-old boy was murdered by his stepmother, with help from his father. He was tortured by being fed salt-laced meals and being denied food and water, and his death was from a traumatic brain injury. The maternal grandmother said of the boy’s guardians: “I think they are cold, calculating, systematic torturers of a defenseless little boy. They’re wicked, evil.”

Christian apologist Jim Wallace pointed to this murder to ask how we know what “evil” is. He imagined an objective component of evil, and he sees morality as grounded outside humans. Humans aren’t necessary for objective moral truths to be in force.

(The story with the surprise conclusion is story #2, but I’ll use this brief look at the first story to make clear Wallace’s position.)

This is the standard apologist’s playbook: insist on objective morality and take it as a given or, at most, argue for it with nothing more convincing than, “I’m sure we all agree that X is wrong.”

I see zero evidence for such an objective morality. Look up the word “evil” in Merriam-Webster and the first definition is “morally reprehensible.” There’s no objective anything here, no hint of a Big Book of Morals in God’s library that we can consult. This might surprise Jim Wallace the retired police detective, who seems to have trouble understanding how morals work in society—from how laws are made in a legislature to how they’re interpreted by the courts. Where do we find this morality that’s grounded outside humans? Where in the legislative or judicial process is any appeal to objective morality? That we share a moral sense is nicely explained by all of us being the same species and our species having been shaped by evolution.

Story #2: Does Google uphold its “Do no evil” motto? Should it?

So far, this is the standard apologist’s playbook: insist on objective morality and take it as a given or, at most, argue for it with nothing more convincing than, “I’m sure we all agree that X is wrong.” But with this second story, Wallace makes clear the weakness of his position.

This story, which broke at about the same time as that of the death of the boy, is Google being sued by several ex-employees for violating its “Don’t be evil” motto. Those employees had protested Google selling software to aid the work of U.S. immigration authorities, arguing that Google’s policies call for “acting honorably and treating each other with respect.” They claim that “Don’t be evil” wasn’t a throwaway line and that Google’s own employee contract made it binding on their work as employees.

Note the difference between these two stories. A six-year-old is tortured and then murdered. We bystanders conclude in an instant that evil was done. But the Google story is different. The court will decide after a long, boring trial, and it’s not obvious which side will prevail—perhaps even which side we want to prevail. No part of this trial will appeal to objective morality.

The podcast cohost outlined his approach to this case:

We need to look at something outside the employees and outside Google, some other, transcendent moral law. We need to look to that so we can compare the opinions of the people involved to the ultimate authority.  (@20:12)

The apologist demands to know how we ordinary humans can resolve moral problems. Answer: by God grounding objective moral truth. Look at the murder case—we all just know that evil was done, and that’s thanks to God.

Objective morality: put up or shut up

But with this claim about the Google case and ultimate authority, the Christian apologist’s fig leaf is torn away, and the flabby argument is made plain. If they have the secret recipe for resolving moral cases, they can demonstrate that by resolving the Google case! The resolution is not at all obvious, which makes it the perfect proving ground. That they don’t show how to judge the case is obviously because they can’t.

Compare these two cases. If there is an ultimate authority that shows us right from wrong, we don’t need it in the murder case. The moral judgment there is easy. But the Google case is messy, and an argument could be made for either side. This is precisely the opportunity to roll out that “ultimate authority.”

This reminds me of a carpenter’s workbench. Wallace could’ve laid out and explained the moral axioms needed for the task, like a neat row of carpenter’s tools. He’d show them to be objectively true and then apply them to the Google case to demonstrate how God as the ultimate authority can be reliably applied to thorny, real-world problems. But he doesn’t. He ends his episode making clear that he has no such technique. I’m sure he doesn’t even realize that we followed him to the brink and then watched him walk away, unable to make the demonstration on which his own examples insisted.

He’s preaching to the choir, and they let him get away with this, but we skeptics can see behind the curtain. The emptiness of apologists’ claims for objective morality is plainer than ever.

You don’t need religion to have morals.
If you can’t determine right from wrong
then you lack empathy, not religion.
— seen on the internet

3 examples of reality confounding Christianity

The Kittycat Lounge in Pahrump, Nevada calls itself a gentlemen’s club, but to you and me, it’s a brothel. Here in rural Nevada, prostitution is legal.

Business was good, and the owner of the Kittycat bought a second building for expansion.

When the Christian and his antagonist switch sides

A local non-denominational church felt that this proposed second location was too much, and members of the congregation protested in the city council to slow the project. But building permits were granted, so the church moved to plan B. They rented a storefront in a strip mall across the road from Kittycat 2. Prayer teams took shifts in the makeshift church, targeting the renovation across the street.

Enthusiasm flagged as the weeks wore on, but just days before the planned opening, lightning hit the nearly completed brothel. The building was destroyed. The business didn’t have insurance to cover the damage, and it seemed that the Kittycat was no more.

The members of the church felt that their many hours of prayer had brought them, not just success, but a literal act of God. There was much crowing of the “No Jesus meek and mild in this town!” sort in the local news and on the windows of their storefront church.

If we believe what the Bible records about Jesus, prayer works just like your car or cellphone or light switch work.

That cocky attitude changed once the owner of the brothel sued the church on the grounds that the church “was responsible for the demise of the Kittycat Lounge, both as real estate and as a business entity, through direct or indirect divine actions or means.”

The church immediately backtracked, denying all responsibility through every local news channel for what they now called a “tragedy.”

The result? The two adversaries were a brothel owner who believed in the power of prayer and a conservative church that didn’t.

(This is a great story, but it’s just that—a story. Snopes debunks a similar version.)

How is prayer supposed to work?

Let’s move to another example where a conflict between dogma and reality means the Christian doesn’t wind up where you’d expect.

The M*A*S*H television show (1972–1983) was a comedy-drama set in a front-line hospital during the Korean War. In one episode (“Showtime,” first aired in 1973), Father Mulcahy is feeling useless and frustrated. He compares himself with the doctors. They do remarkable good, but what can he point to? Doctors usually know right away whether they were successful, but a priest may never know.

Later, Hawkeye and two other doctors sit around the bed of a patient who’s doing poorly. Hawkeye calls on Mulcahy to stand by to deliver last rites. Mulcahy takes the patient’s hand and prays for his health (@17:25). To the surprise of all, the patient slowly moves his head and opens his eyes.

HAWKEYE (to MULCAHY): What was that about not being sure you did any good?

MULCAHY: It’s not supposed to work that way, you know.

But it is! That’s exactly how it’s supposed to work!

Read the Bible: you pray, you get results. There’s no delay; there’s no face-saving nonsense like “God always answers, but sometimes the answer is No.” If we believe what the Bible records about Jesus, prayer works just like your car or cellphone or light switch work.

Jesus said that if you have faith as tiny as a mustard seed, you will be able to move mountains (Matthew 17:20). Jesus said that prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well (James 5:15). Jesus said that whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours (Matt. 21:22). Jesus said that all things are possible to him who believes (Mark 9:23). Jesus said, “Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it” (John 14:14). No limitations or delays are mentioned. There’s no fine print.

Christians sometimes complain about atheists’ interpretation of Christian prayer. “God isn’t a genie,” they’ll tell you. “He isn’t standing by to grant your every wish.”

But he is. These Christians need to read their Bibles more closely, Father Mulcahy included. The Bible says exactly what should happen when taking a sick person’s hand and praying earnestly to God: “And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up.” Every time.

Like the brothel owner who believed in prayer and the church congregation that didn’t, Mulcahy the Catholic priest is in an odd situation. He believes in a hidden god, a teasing god, a god who slips in miraculous healings that are indistinguishable from good luck. Father Mulcahy knows that prayer doesn’t work the way Jesus promises, and it takes an atheist to point out that he’s forced to worship the nonexistent God of reality, not the powerful God of the Bible who’s always on call.

The pope and the physicist

Let’s look at one final example of Christians torn between reality and dogma.

In 1951, Pope Pius XII celebrated new science that he interpreted as validating the first chapter in Genesis. This new science was the Big Bang.

Decades before, the consensus had settled on a steady-state model with an eternal universe. The new Big Bang theory pointed to a time before which the universe didn’t exist. This fit neatly into the Christian model in which, “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”

Science hadn’t been kind to the Church. Copernicus removed our planet from the center of the universe, and Darwin showed that natural explanations were sufficient to explain life. Was science finally on the Church’s side?

Georges Lemaître, a Catholic priest and a contributor to Big Bang theory, didn’t see it this way. He encouraged the pope to avoid the Church saying that science supported Christian dogma. His reasoning was easy to understand: if you point out where science supports Christian claims, you must correspondingly admit where science undercuts Christian claims, and there are plenty of those. Live by the sword, die by the sword.

(While this third story looks to be the only one that actually happened, it may be that it, too, is fiction. While he did meet with the pope, there is no solid evidence for Lemaître pushing back. Nevertheless, this story also illustrates Christianity’s difficult relationship with reality.)

Lemaître’s stance vs. modern theologians

Today’s evangelical apologists rarely have Lemaître’s tough standards. They will typically cherry-pick their science to support apologetic arguments like the Design Argument or Kalam Cosmological Argument and ignore inconvenient facts that undercut their position. And why not? They don’t have any skin in the game. Their Christian faith isn’t built on these arguments. Their goal is a convincing argument, not the best argument. If a prospective Christian nibbles, the argument has done its job even if its errors have been exposed.

Science is a harsh mistress, and Lemaître was careful to stay on her good side. Evangelical apologists want to turn her into a prostitute.

If prayer worked,
911 would connect you to a church.
— seen on the internet