Weak Analogies? Is That the Best You Can Do to Prove God?

I’d like to highlight an analogy that Christians would do well to avoid.

Here’s one instance of it.

A man found the girl of his dreams. She was intelligent, beautiful, and she loved him. He was convinced that she was the perfect mate. He wanted to marry her. But he never asked her. So, they were never married. Wanting to be married doesn’t make it so. You have to decide and then act.

Our situation with God is something like that. We feel the God-shaped vacuum. We desire relationship with him. We hear that Christ’s sacrifice makes that relationship possible by paying the price for our wrongdoing.

But the relationship will never happen unless we decide and then act.

As Beyoncé observed, “If you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it.” Take the plunge. Make a leap of faith and commit to Christianity.

I don’t find the story compelling, but that’s not my point. My point is that I don’t find the story logical. What’s the girlfriend doing in the story? How does that relationship illustrate our relationship with Jesus? Jesus is like the perfect girlfriend … that you just never get around to committing to? If you’re shy or noncommittal, couldn’t your girlfriend (or Jesus) suggest getting married?

No, this story is not at all what the Christian claim is like. Here’s a better parallel:

A man wanted to settle down with someone special, and his friend Paul told him about a girl he knew, Diana. Paul described her as intelligent, beautiful, caring, and the perfect mate. The guy was eager to meet her and asked Paul to arrange it, but Paul kept giving excuses—she was busy, she had to reschedule, she was out of town, and so on. But Paul said that she was also eager to meet.

As our hero continued to ask about the mysterious Diana over subsequent days, Paul responded with more excuses and gave her increasingly New Age-y attributes: Diana had lived past lives, she could sense the future, she could move things with her mind. And then ever more comic-book skills: she could materialize objects, she could heal in seconds after an injury like Wolverine, she could fly like Superman.

Our hero has now lost interest. This tale sounds like an invention, even like fiction. He doesn’t imagine that Paul would deliberately lie to him, but Paul’s story has few characteristics of an authentic biography.

Why should he imagine that Diana exists, especially when she looks invented and his pleas for evidence turn up nothing? Wonder Woman doesn’t exist; the Wicked Witch of the West doesn’t exist; why imagine that Diana does? Yes, the man really wants a great woman in his life, and yes, this one sounds pretty amazing. But why imagine that she even exists?

And that’s the problem with these “Jesus is like” or “God is like” analogies. The least interesting feature of the Christian girl-of-his-dreams story is that the girl actually exists. Well, duh—it’s hardly a remarkable claim.

And yet existence is the central feature of the claim about Jesus or God. Somewhere very early in that story must be some variant of, “Okay, I know this sounds pretty fanciful. I know God sounds just like all those other gods that we both agree don’t exist. But this one’s different! Let me tell you why.”

Don’t pretend that one’s relationship with a person is like that with God. Christians should avoid this inept analogy.

I choose not to draw vast conclusions 
from half-vast data.
— Dr. Jerry Ehman

(This is an update of a post that originally appeared 1/2/13.)

Photo credit: Wikipedia

Lawyer Thinking, Revisited

Hey—what’s the difference between a jellyfish and a lawyer? One is a spineless, venomous blob, and the other is a marine animal!

Hey—how does a lawyer sleep? First he lies on one side, then he lies on the other!

Hey—whaddya call ten lawyers buried to their necks in concrete? A good start!

No, this isn’t a rant against lawyers, despite my recent discussion of lawyer thinking. I understand their important role in society. I even understand what it’s like to be in a minority that some in society dislike—I’m an atheist, remember?

J. Warner Wallace at the Please Convince Me podcast responded a few years ago to an earlier version of my recent “Scientist Thinking vs. Lawyer Thinking” post. He is a homicide detective who applies his investigative thinking to Christian apologetics.

Wallace raises some interesting points. I’d like to respond to those and put to rest his fears that this is an attack on lawyers.

Wallace begins by emphasizing that prosecutors weigh the evidence provided by the police. They don’t want to lose and only pursue strong cases that they are likely to win.

I understand. This isn’t the lawyer thinking I’m talking about. I’m only talking about the model used in the courtroom where the actions of lawyers are constrained. Collaboration and openness aren’t an option in the courtroom, unlike a scientific setting.

The prosecution and defense attorneys make the best argument for their side, regardless of their personal opinion of the evidence. A defense attorney might think that their client is actually guilty as charged, for example, but that information doesn’t come out in the courtroom. That attorney wouldn’t be doing their job if it did.

Wallace attacks the idea that science is the only way to find the truth, especially for past events. He points out that both the events in a crime and the gospel story are past events.

Agreed. History isn’t science. But a criminal investigation and history both use what I’ve defined as scientist thinking—a collaborative and open search for the truth. Lawyer thinking—presupposing one side of an issue and picking and choosing facts to support it—is unhealthy in either science or history. And this thinking must be especially unhelpful in a police officer.

An observation by commenter avalon undercuts Wallace’s project of showing that Christianity’s route to truth is supported by its analogy to methods used in the courtroom, “Christianity ultimately rests on intuition and revelation, two methods soundly rejected in the courtroom.”

Wallace emphasized four points.

1. “The nature of the courtroom vets the claims far more aggressively than any other environment.” The many discarded consensuses from the peer-reviewed scientific process show the flaws in the scientific method. The courtroom’s adversarial process is better.

You want adversarial? The scientific process is not for the faint of heart, as Creationists will tell you. Scientific careers are made by finding something new, and that means subjecting one’s findings to attack by others. Claims aren’t taken on faith, and scientists replicate each other’s experiments to validate or overturn the results (remember cold fusion?).

The review process is never over, and the better established the scientific claim, the bigger the acclaim for the scientist who overturns it. That’s why the claim by some Creationists that evolution is bankrupt and biologists know it is ridiculous. The biologist who overturns this consensus can count on a Nobel Prize and its $1.1 million prize money.

Science is also a meritocracy, with a high barrier to entry. No participant is flawless, but each is highly trained. There’s no equivalent of (or need for) lay jurors within science.

Surely Wallace isn’t suggesting that we replace scientist thinking by lawyer thinking in the laboratory. The problem isn’t that lawyer thinking needs to be applied more widely but that it is already too easy for us to fall back on. It serves us well in the courtroom but would be no asset to science.

2. “Historical events by their very nature are unrepeatable.” Science isn’t the tool to use.

True, but scientist thinking is what historians use, not lawyer thinking. The only value in lawyer thinking is as a disastrous example of what not to do.

To illustrate how scientist thinking is supposed to work, Richard Dawkins gave this anecdote in The God Delusion.

I have previously told the story of a respected elder statesman of the Zoology Department at Oxford when I was an undergraduate. For years he had passionately believed, and taught, that the Golgi Apparatus (a microscopic feature of the interior of cells) was not real: an artifact, an illusion.

Every Monday afternoon it was the custom for the whole department to listen to a research talk by a visiting lecturer. One Monday, the visitor was an American cell biologist who presented completely convincing evidence that the Golgi Apparatus was real. At the end of the lecture, the old man strode to the front of the hall, shook the American by the hand and said—with passion—“My dear fellow, I wish to thank you. I have been wrong these fifteen years.” We clapped our hands red.

No fundamentalist would ever say that. In practice, not all scientists would. But all scientists pay lip service to it as an ideal—unlike, say, politicians who would probably condemn it as flip-flopping. The memory of the incident I have described still brings a lump to my throat.

Wow—talk about a teachable moment.

3. “Science isn’t absent from the courtroom.” Forensic science is presented as evidence when appropriate. Science isn’t rejected or demeaned.

Wallace is trying to rehabilitate “lawyer thinking” by pointing to where the legal process uses scientist thinking. That’s fine, but if that’s where the better analogy lies, then just drop the unhelpful courtroom analogy and push for scientist thinking.

Lawyer thinking is still best left in the courtroom.

4. “Lawyers don’t make the final decision in a courtroom.” The jury or judge are the final arbiters, not the lawyers.

Similarly, a scientist doesn’t create a consensus solo; the scientific community evaluates that scientist’s claims.

One important difference is that there is no equivalent within science to letting someone off on a legal technicality (not reading the accused their Miranda rights, for example). Having a formal process is important and useful in the legal system, but science gets as many second chances as needed to get it right.

Wallace concludes:

[The courtroom model has] been established for a reason. It’s still the single best method of determining what happened in the past. It’s time-tested, it’s vetted, it has an elaborate set of regulations and precautionary rules that attempt to limit error to begin with, and then they provide for appeal when error occurs.

The courtroom process is fine, as are lawyers and lawyer thinking. What’s not fine is lawyer thinking misapplied, and lawyer thinking within the discipline of history would be an example.

Philosopher Walter Kaufmann highlights how different scientist thinking is by illustrating the connections between theologians and lawyers in his The Faith of a Heretic. First, both have books and traditions that they may not criticize.

Secondly, many theologians accept the morality that in many countries governs the conduct of the counsel for the defense. Ingenuity and skillful appeals to the emotions are considered perfectly legitimate; so are attempts to ignore all the inconvenient evidence, as long as one can get away with it, and the refusal to engage in inquiries that are at all likely to discredit the predetermined conclusion: that the client is innocent. If all else fails, one tries to saddle one’s opponent with the burden of disproof; and as a last resort one is content with a reasonable doubt that after all the doctrines that one has defended might be true.

Lawyer thinking does not follow the evidence where it leads; it begins the conversation with a bias to one answer and presents only information that confirms that presupposition. It’s natural and often feels right, but, outside the courtroom, it is not the best way to find the truth.

Make instead an egoless and collaborative search for the truth by following the facts where they lead.

Faith is no virtue.
Demanding evidence is no vice.
— Unknown

(This is an update of a post that originally appeared 12/29/12.)

Photo credit: Wikimedia

How Much Faith to Be an Atheist? Geisler and Turek’s Moral Argument (Part 4).

Everyone safe and sound after yesterday’s scary lunar eclipse? The weather in Seattle cooperated, and I watched it with many other sky watchers.

In an article in John Hagee’s local paper titled, “John Hagee Didn’t Mean The Apocalypse Was Coming Yesterday, Silly,” we’re told that all the mocking of Hagee is out of line. “Nowhere in Revelation does it say that the end of days was due to arrive on September 27, 2015.” Right—and nowhere in the entire Bible does it say anything to support John Hagee’s breathless four blood moons hypothesis.

The article continues, “According to Hagee, the end times will arrive at some unspecified point in the future.” In other words, the period of the four blood moons was meaningless for telling us when the End will come. Thoughtfully, the article ends with links for buying the DVD, book, and soundtrack. There’s still time before the End to buy a book that tells you nothing about the End!

I don’t have enough faith to be an atheist by Geisler and TurekThis is a continuation of my response to the popular Christian apologetics book I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be an Atheist by Norm Geisler and Frank Turek. Begin with part 1 here. For part 1 of the critique of the moral argument, go here.

In the (mercifully) final section of their chapter on morality, Geisler and Turek (GT) list areas of confusion within the topic of absolute vs. relative morality. Since the boys have indeed been quite confused about this, perhaps we’ll get some clarity on the issue. The labels in this enumerated list come from their book.

Confusion #1—absolute morals vs. changing behavior

GT tell us that relativists confuse is and ought. You can change what you do, but you can’t change what you ought to do. Relativists sometimes preface their outrage at backwards Christian attitudes about issues like sex with, “This is the twenty-first century!” as if morality adapts to the times.

But of course morality has changed over time—consider slavery, genocide, and rape, for example—and we think that now we’re on the right side of these issues. GT can fume about it, but morality changes. Given that the Bible’s morality is abysmal, moral evolution of society away from that is a good thing.

GT respond to charges that our many approaches to morality undercut the idea of a Moral Law.

But that doesn’t mean there is no unchanging Moral Law; it simply means that we all violate it. (page 182)

No, our contradictory moral actions mean that there is no objective, reliably accessible Morality, which they have already admitted. How they imagine this strengthens their claim of objective morality (when the natural explanation works just fine), I can’t imagine.

There’s also a vague reference to the is-ought problem, which I respond to here.

Confusion #2—absolute morals vs. changing perceptions of the facts

GT try to salvage the idea of objective, unchanging morals with the example of witch burning. We used to burn witches but not anymore. A change in morality? The boys tell us no:

What has changed is not the moral principle that murder is wrong but the perception or factual understanding of whether “witches” can really murder people by their curses. (183)

Not really. The King James Version of Exodus 22:18 memorably commands us, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” Western society includes people who claim to be witches with corresponding supernatural beliefs, but only the most fringe Christian would demand the death penalty. This is a change in morality—our modern morality (which is so familiar as to seem like common sense) wins out over a foreign idea in an ancient book.

Confusion #3—absolute morals vs. applying them to particular situations

Even if two victims wind up disagreeing over the morality of a particular act, this does not mean morality is relative. An absolute Moral Law can exist even if people fail to know the right thing to do in a particular situation. (183)

Translation: “Yeah, but I never said that objective morality was reliably accessible.”

The larger point GT make is, “You haven’t proven me wrong.” That’s correct, but that’s not the skeptic’s job. I’ve given a plausible natural explanation for morality. You want to make the remarkable claim that objective morality exists? I’m listening, but so far you’ve done nothing but assert it (with examples that are better explained by the natural explanation!).

Going forward, I’ll leave pointing out the Assumed Objectivity fallacy as an exercise for the reader.

GT move on to imagine people puzzling over a life-or-death dilemma. They come to different conclusions and conclude that morality is relative.

But the dilemma actually proves the opposite—that morality is absolute. How? Because there would be no dilemma if morality were relative! If morality were relative and there were no absolute right to life, you’d say, “It doesn’t matter what happens!” … The very reason we struggle with the dilemma is because we know how valuable life is. (184)

Let’s consider the moral options that GT imagines. They reject option 1, some strange form of laissez-faire, “Whatever you do is fine with me” kind of morality. This straw man morality exists only in GT’s imaginations.

GT hope you’ll pick option 2 and say that an objectively correct answer exists, and our only problem is calling forth this answer from the phlogiston or ectoplasm or wherever it lives. The problem is that they admit that they have no reliable voodoo to do so.

It’s up to the skeptic to point to option 3, the obvious natural explanation: we all share a common sense of morality, and ambiguous or subtle moral puzzles can separate us into opposing camps. There is no objectively correct answer.

The fact that there are difficult problems in morality doesn’t disprove the existence of objective moral laws any more than difficult problems in science disprove the existence of objective natural laws. (184)

Translation: “Ha! You can’t prove me wrong”—not much of an argument.

Yes, there are difficult problems in science, and there are objective natural laws. Science continually pushes through difficult problems and finds those laws. But you say that’s parallel to our search for objective moral laws?

Show me. Produce one example of a new objective moral law from the last two centuries. Eternal aphorisms like the Golden Rule don’t count because they’re old. And if it’s a new development (say, “slavery is bad” or “no genocide”), it can’t be unchanging and is therefore not objective.

The attempted parallel with natural laws fails.

If just one moral obligation exists (such as don’t murder, or don’t rape, or don’t torture babies), then the Moral Law exists. If the Moral Law exists, then so does the Moral Law Giver. (184)

GT are getting desperate now and have ignored the collateral damage. They’ve thrown out of the life raft any claim that this Moral Law is reliably accessible—or even accessible at all. Their objective morality has become a useless bit of trivia—something that exists but might as well not for all the good it does us. They have no answer for God’s Old Testament rampages and moral errors. As a result, they have discarded any claim to be honestly searching for the truth. This is all to make the claim, “Well, you haven’t proven that objective moral truth is impossible, so God could still exist!”

Would God want to rule the moral wasteland that you’ve left him?

Confusion #4—absolute morals (what) vs. a relative culture (how)

Morality varies by culture—yes, I agree.

Confusion #5—absolute morals vs. moral disagreements

GT note that there are contentious moral issues within society.

Some think abortion is acceptable while others think it’s murder. But just because there are different opinions about abortion doesn’t mean morality is relative. (185)

Not for sure, but it’s a good clue. This is the “You haven’t proven me wrong!” argument again. The burden of proof is yours.

Next up, GT handwave that “each side defends what they think is an absolute moral value.” Redefinition! No one believes in relative morality, and morality is now only absolute morality.

On the heels of that is another redefinition. If you disagree with GT’s anti-abortion stance,

This moral disagreement [about abortion] exists because some people are suppressing the Moral Law in order [to] justify what they want to do. (186)

So if you’re pro-choice, you’re just wrong. As if the arrogance couldn’t get any greater, morality has devolved to become that which GT believe.

I can’t take any more of the same childish errors over and over, so I’m done with this chapter. I’m amazed that the Christian flock is content to be fed such pablum.

 

I don’t have enough intellectual dishonesty
to be a Christian.
— title of one Amazon review of
I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be an Atheist

Image credit: Wikipedia

Four Blood Moons: the Ultimate Punchline Is Nigh (2 of 2)

In part 1, I summarized the latest in John Hagee’s “Four Blood Moons” hysteria, which is to culminate with Sunday’s lunar eclipse (totality begins 7:11pm Seattle time).

So what is supposed to happen?

We’ve seen a lot of vague handwaving, but let’s get specific. Reverend Hagee, tell us precisely what will happen and when. Hagee tells us, “The coming four blood moons points to a world-shaking event that will happen between April 2014 and October 2015.”

Okay, but that’s rather vague. Hagee says, “God is literally screaming at the world, ‘I’m coming soon.’”

Surely the creator of the universe can do better? “Something is about to change,” according to the book’s subtitle.

Hagee’s situation is like that in a Ren and Stimpy cartoon. Ren reveals the History Eraser button, and Stimpy asks what will happen if someone presses it. Ren says, “That’s just it—we don’t know! Maybe something bad, maybe something good.” Likewise, Hagee doesn’t know what God is saying will happen—maybe something bad, maybe something good.

Perhaps the purpose of the book wasn’t to enlighten the flock but (dare I say it?) to make money. It turns out that Pastor Hagee wasn’t the first to think up the four blood moons idea, though you wouldn’t know it from his recent movie, where he claims to have come up with this connection. When there’s chum in the water, the sharks will come, and for Pastor Hagee, cash is chum.

Others have piled on and predicted financial disaster after the end of Shemitah (didn’t happen—the Dow was up on the next trading day). Unsurprisingly, those financial prophets didn’t conclude that their game is groundless. One pundit decided that God simply doesn’t want to make himself predictable. It’s clear that no lesson has been learned, and the next breathless, invented crisis is inevitable.

One element of this hysteria is a “the sky is falling” attitude. Prophecy-hungry Christians point to the bad news of the moment—the Iran nuclear deal, the progress of ISIS, Ebola, police shootings, droughts and forest fires, and same-sex marriage—and imagine that these are the signs of the End.

No, that’s not bad. You want bad? How about the Thirty Years’ War (1618–48) that killed between three and eleven million people in Europe? That was bad. Or how about 1942–43 when it looked like the Axis powers might succeed and carve up the world? Or the 1918 flu pandemic that killed up to 100 million people? Or the Black Death in Europe (1346–53), which killed 20% of the world’s population?

Sorry, Christian apocalypticists, same-sex marriage doesn’t compare.

Remember when you were a kid in history class, and you asked why you had to learn all that stuff? This is why. It’s so you can be immune from people who are ignorant of the events like these—events so world-shakingly huge that they plausibly could have signaled an end of the world.

Consequences

I believe a quote from the Good Book is relevant here.

The prophet who speaks a word presumptuously in My name which I have not commanded him to speak, or which he speaks in the name of other gods, that prophet shall die. (Deuteronomy 18:20)

Wow—that’s tough love. I imagine pastor David Berzins, who is eager to stone gays to death, would be happy to carry out that punishment if Hagee’s prophecies don’t come true.

Hagee has to walk a fine line. He must be specific enough to mesmerize his flock into buying his books and mailing in checks but not so specific that he could be easily called on a prophecy when it doesn’t come to pass. That was the error that Harold Camping made. He spent $100 million on advertising a very specific date for the Rapture, May 21, 2011. Things became uncomfortable when May 22 arrived just like any other day.

Hagee has been planning this for several years, and the last blood moon is just a day away. There must be a crescendo at his web site, right? No—we find as just one more ad in the lineup, “The final blood moon is coming … are you ready?”

Ready? Ready for what? Whatever happens, Hagee will declare victory and look for the chance to launch some new apocalyptic message so we can get good and scared all over again. John Hagee becomes Pastor Freddie Krueger of the (Nightmare on) Elm Street Church. Like the groundless claims in Pastor John Oliver’s recent and much-missed megachurch, Hagee’s far-reaching but empty claims are, incredibly, all legal.

If there were justice where you could pull a stunt like this once but then you’d lose all credibility, I wouldn’t mind. The problem is, there will be no consequences. While it will be amusing seeing Hagee and others tap dance away from their claims, no one will stone them. Their flock will continue to do what they’re told. Hagee has a new book out, and he’ll refocus on that. While I wonder how Hagee can live with himself, I think the whole thing will look like a smart financial move in hindsight.

What’s it like on the inside?

Captain Cassidy recently wrote about what it was like growing up as a Pentecostal teenager during the “88 Reasons Why the Rapture Will Be in 1988” scare. On why this kind of thing is effective, she said that being on the inside flatters one’s ego. You know that you’ve got it figured out and the naysayers will get theirs soon enough, and then who’ll be laughing? Chillingly, she observed, “Fear lies at the heart of Christianity, not love.”

I’ll wrap up with this much-mended “The End is nigh!” sign envisioned by Kyle Hepworth. The End has been predicted more often than you may know.

John Hagee 4 blood moons

Christians who know that there’ve been other Rapture scares in the past
look at new Rapture scares like other folks look at lottery tickets:
sure, they’ve always failed to win in the past,
but this time might be the big payoff.
The problem is that their payoff happens for the worst reasons
and at the expense of those who disagree with them.
Captain Cassidy

 

Four Blood Moons: the Ultimate Punchline Is Nigh

If it feels like we’ve been here before, we have. John Hagee imagines that the last 18 months have been a slow-motion display of God saying, “Look out!” (I find it more fun to imagine God’s voice getting really low because it’s stretched out).

Look for a total lunar eclipse on Sunday night (9/27/15). In Seattle, totality begins at 7:11pm and ends at 8:23. The partial eclipse lasts another hour. Add three hours to convert to Eastern time.

John Hagee 4 blood moonsWhy is this eclipse interesting?

Because the plane that the moon rotates in is off by five degrees from the ecliptic (the plane defined by the orbit of the earth around the sun), an opportunity for either lunar or solar eclipses only happens twice a year. Lunar eclipses are quite common, with total eclipses somewhat less so. Much less likely is when there is a total eclipse and then six months later, another, and then another, and then another—four total lunar eclipses over 18 months. Since the year 1CE, there have been 57 such “tetrads.”

Why is this eclipse interesting religiously?

Now consider the religious connection. The Jewish festivals of Passover and Sukkot begin on full moons, and they are also six months apart. A lunar eclipse tetrad can line up with them, and there have been seven such alignments since 1CE. The eighth concludes on Sunday.

So, what’s the religious significance of this alignment? None. Joel 2:30–31 talks about the moon turning to blood, and Christian Zionist opportunist John Hagee has invented a connection. Since total eclipses usually look red, he calls a lunar eclipse tetrad that aligns with the Jewish festivals “four blood moons,” and he says they line up with significant events in Jewish history. He argues his theory by looking at the last three alignments (the dates below are of the first eclipse in the tetrad).

  • 1967 was the Six-Day War.
  • 1949 was the establishment of Israel.
  • 1493 was the expulsion of the Jews from Spain.

The sharp-eyed reader will notice that the Jews were actually expelled from Spain one year earlier. The date for the establishment of Israel is also off.

So Hagee’s hypothesis is that tetrads mean either good or bad things happening to the Jewish people, with the date a little fuzzy. Note also that not all significant events get a tetrad. The Holocaust during World War II is glaringly absent. God’s message then becomes, “Something good or bad will soon happen to the Jewish people, or has happened, and I might’ve missed a few.” I have higher standards for Hagee’s god than Hagee does.

It gets worse when we consider the four ignored alignments, which began in the years 162, 795, 842, and 860. Hagee doesn’t bother wondering what God was saying with these, because they don’t support his flabby hypothesis. But if God wanted to point to important events for the Jewish people, obvious candidates would have included the three Jewish-Roman Wars. Hagee doesn’t seem to credit his flock with much knowledge, but even they will know the first omission.

  • The First Jewish-Roman War (66–74CE) included the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem in 70, the deaths of 1.1 million Jews (according to Josephus), and the enslavement of the survivors.
  • The Kitos War (115–117CE) began with ethnic Judeans outside of Palestine rising up to slaughter Roman soldiers and noncombatants—reportedly half a million. The empire put down the revolt, violently.
  • The Bar Kokhba Revolt (132–136CE) was, like the First War, conducted in Judea. One source called it a genocide and more significant in damaging Judaism in Judea than the First War.

(For further detail on Hagee’s ill-advised dabblings into prophecy, I’ve written more here. And about his movie. And about what actually makes a good prophecy.)

Even more trivia—fun!

This tetrad as a placeholder provides an opportunity to pile on more stuff with no concern for whether Christianity or Judaism says that this is meaningful (they don’t).

  • Eclipse opportunities can create solar eclipses as well as lunar, and this tetrad’s 18-month window includes one solar eclipse.
  • The moon’s orbit is elliptical, and once a month it reaches its perigee (closest point) which makes it appear 14% wider than at its apogee (farthest point). Sunday’s eclipse will be of such a “supermoon.”
  • The last year in a seven-year cycle in the Jewish calendar is a Shemitah year, and this tetrad included such a year (it ended 9/13/15). Shemitah is a time to let the land go fallow and forgive debts with fellow Jews. However, Wikipedia says, “There is little notice of the observance of this year in Biblical history and it appears to have been much neglected.” And why imagine divine wrath when Shemitah is a time of forgiveness?
  • This entire celestial farce has been invisible in Israel, with the exception of this final lunar eclipse.
  • Here’s interesting data about why the world will end two days ago.

Let’s conclude by trying to figure out what’s actually supposed to happen in Part 2.

There’s a sucker born every minute.
Barnum 3:16

Image credit: krheesy, flickr, CC

How Much Faith to Be an Atheist? Geisler and Turek’s Moral Argument (Part 3).

This is a continuation of my response to the popular Christian apologetics book I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be an Atheist by Norm Geisler and Frank Turek. Begin with part 1 here. For part 1 of the critique of the moral argument, go here.

I don’t have enough faith to be an atheist by Geisler and TurekWe move on to dabble in history.

Founding U.S. documents

About the U. S. Declaration of Independence, Geisler and Turek (GT) say:

Notice the phrase, “they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights.” In other words, the Founding Fathers believed that human rights are God-given. (page 175)

Nope. “Creator” to the Founding Fathers wasn’t the Yahweh of the Old Testament, it was a hands-off, deist god. The Declaration is of no help to the Christian cause because it makes clear who’s in charge: “Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.” Unlike Harry Truman, God doesn’t have a sign on his desk that reads, “The buck stops here.” God is irrelevant to the American experiment.

And an appeal to the Declaration is always a sign that the apologists couldn’t find what they wanted in the Constitution. The Constitution remains the supreme law of the land, while the Declaration is just an important historical document with no role in government today.

Objective morality in the Nuremburg trials

If there were no such international morality that transcended the laws of the secular German government, then the Allies would have had no grounds to condemn the Nazis. (175)

The Allies won, and they imposed their laws—is that surprising? Isn’t that how wars work? Whose laws do you think they should’ve used?

In other words, we couldn’t have said that the Nazis were absolutely wrong unless we knew what was absolutely right. But we do know they were absolutely wrong, so the Moral Law must exist. (175)

Who said the Nazis were absolutely wrong? The Allies said they were regular wrong, we had a trial of 24 German leaders, and we imposed justice from our perspective. This wasn’t a sham trial with summary death sentences for all—half were given sentenced to hang, three were acquitted, and most of the rest were given prison terms. Centuries from now, future historians might criticize those sentences from their perspective.

The Problem of Evil

GT move on to address what Christians often admit is their toughest intellectual challenge: why does a good god allow so much bad in the world?

GT respond with an analogy from C. S. Lewis: “A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line.” God’s actions may appear wrong, but that can only be because we’re comparing them against an absolute good.

The only straight lines we can make are imperfectly straight lines; similarly, the only moral standards come from our own not-objective rules. GT have again only allowed themselves the option of imagining one kind of morality, absolute or objective morality.

Notice also that to make this argument, GT must grant our claim that there is a problem of evil, which puts God in a bad light.

Lewis, like you and me, can only detect injustice because there’s an unchanging standard of justice written on our hearts. (176)

Another redefinition—now the Moral Law has become unchanging. But I don’t know what’s unchanging about it. Is slavery wrong? It sure wasn’t back in the Old Testament. Same for genocide. Same for polygamy. I certainly think that slavery is wrong for all time, but the Bible won’t support that.

The Holocaust

GT want to know, How do Jewish atheists argue against the Holocaust? Are a critique about a meal and a critique about the Holocaust both mere opinions?

That works for me. Perhaps there’s a word difference that will capture the strongly held or deeply felt nature of judgments about the Holocaust. Regardless, this still doesn’t get GT their desired objective morality. The natural explanation of morality works fine: we have a shared idea of morality, and killing millions of people is almost universally accepted as wrong.

GT can’t let go of the idea of a moral law that’s not objective. They imagine that a claim like “racism is wrong” has no objective meaning without the Moral Law. This chapter is 25 pages long, but they could distill it to a page if they cut out the repeated errors. For example:

Unless there’s an unchanging standard of good, there is no such thing as objective evil. But since we all know that evil exists, then so does the Moral Law. (177)

If the Moral Law doesn’t exist, then there’s no moral difference between the behavior of Mother Teresa and that of Hitler. (178)

[C. S. Lewis said,] “If your moral ideas can be truer, and those of the Nazis less true, there must be something—some Real Morality—for them to be true about.” (178)

Suppose I think it’s okay to kill mice in my house, and you say that one must trap them humanely and set them free outside. There’s a moral difference; is that impossible without a Real Morality?

Ordinary, natural morality is quite capable of distinguishing between Mother Teresa and Hitler (let’s assume that Mother Teresa is the shining example of goodness, as they falsely imagine). GT refuse to consider that the natural explanation even exists, let alone explains morality better than any claim to objective morality. This is the Assumed Objectivity fallacy—either assuming without evidence that objective morals exist or assuming that everyone knows and accepts objective morality.

Moral relativists? Hoist by their own petard!

GT imagine a chaotic world where abortion, birth control, and sex were outlawed. What could atheists say about this?

So by rebelling against the Moral Law, atheists have, ironically, undermined their grounds for rebelling against anything. In fact, without the Moral Law, no one has any objective grounds for being for or against anything! (181)

Assumed Objectivity fallacy. We don’t need objective grounds for morality because the regular kind works.

They continue by arguing that excuses for breaking moral rules are evidence for the Moral Law. Excuses like “It was just a white lie” or “I had to steal the bread because I was starving” or even “I had to shoot him because he had a gun himself” point to the Moral Law.

Nope—these excuses point to a shared natural morality. There is no need to imagine an objective morality.

I don’t remember ever seeing so much blather that could be shut down so quickly, in Gordian Knot fashion. Just drop the demand for objective morality, and this empty argumentation blows away like irrational smoke.

To be concluded in Part 4.

I assert that if you are depressed
after being exposed to the cosmic perspective,
you started your day with an unjustifiably large ego.
— Neil DeGrasse Tyson

Image credit: Wikimedia