Skip to main content

Jesus, Lover of my Soul

An old friend and spiritual mentor of mine left a comment on my last "Religious Conversation" Post. It provoked so much thought that I wanted to share it with everybody, because I know quite a few of my religious friends are reading this, and I know quite a few of you who would make a similar statement. Here it is:



There is an element in this conversation that is being overlooked (at least, I presume). There is an aesthetic beauty and, more, an affection, which Steven appears to have for God. This is not illogical; in fact, all human beings exhibit it for something. It may be subjective, and it is not conclusive, but it is completely logical. And I can't imagine an argument that would refute it.
It is something like a man saying, "I love my wife. I appreciate her many virtues and charms; I believe her to be the woman most worthy of my affection and lifelong commitment." If I say this and someone were to say to me, "But EVERY man says that of his bride! Wouldn't you at least consider the possibility that she is unfaithful, lude, stupid and ugly, and that there may be another woman more worthy than she?", I would reply, "She has proven herself to me time and again; what reason do I have to do that? Besides, I love her!"
If that doesn't fit, perhaps another similar analogy might be for someone to state to an art lover, "Wouldn't you at least consider the possibility that Rembrandt is a lousy painter?" The man would laugh in the face of such a suggestion.
To understand this line of thought, one must realize that the Christian faith is more than set of theological propositions (although it is at least that). Therefore, to prove to someone (or to everyone) that Christianity is "untrue" or that Jesus is not the Son of God and Savior of the world, it would have to be engaged on a far greater spectrum of levels than just "Christianity is irrational." Perhaps one does think that my marriage to my wife is irrational; but one will have to get past her obvious loveliness in order to convince me of it.
Again, this is not the whole issue, but it is certainly an important part of it; anyone who loves and delights in something beautiful and good is not behaving irrationally. This is basic aesthetics (and I daresay basic human nature).

--------------------------
And my response:
--------------------------
I'm afraid your analogy isn't sound, Jeremy.


But before I tell you why, I want to address the last part of your message, because it makes a truth claim about others' capacity for understanding your analogies in the first place.

To understand this line of thought, one must realize that the Christian faith is more than set of theological propositions (although it is at least that). Therefore, to prove to someone (or to everyone) that Christianity is "untrue" or that Jesus is not the Son of God and Savior of the world, it would have to be engaged on a far greater spectrum of levels than just "Christianity is irrational."


I'm not really sure where you are coming from by saying this, Jeremy, so I hope you'll clarify it for me if I have it wrong.


On the one hand, you are completely right about needing to engage believers on more than just a "cold logic" level. Christian devotion encompasses an immense, complicated tangle of emotions - love and guilt, fear and hope, among others. To effectively engage with a devout individual, I should appeal to these feelings, as well as feelings of what some some might call "spirituality," although they can and do exist in a secular context - things like a yearning for purpose, a fascination with finding our place in the world, the desire to believe in some overarching force that guides our lives. I would love to engage Stephan on these levels as well, and I hope the conversation gets that far.


To fail in understanding these things is to fail in understanding why Christianity is so appealing to Christians. If that is what you mean to say, I completely agree with you.


On the other hand, you could be trying to say something else, something that is dangerous to clear thinking. Something along these lines: 


"No amount of rational argumentation can convince me that God isn't real. The reality of God is beyond rational thought. It's bigger than rational thought." 


To non-Christians, this reads as: 


"Clearly, I don't have any rational reasons to continue believing in light of all that's been discussed. But I don't want to stop believing."


I have seen many a Christian abuse this line and many a conversation end frustratingly with the Christian shaking his head in pity, saying, "I don't know why God hasn't revealed his truth to you, Deric. But when he does, I think you'll understand."


This kind of argumentation, besides being extremely condescending, is simply dodging the responsibility to provide solid ground on which to adopt your religion's teachings. 


And when you are making truth claims about the universe, it is completely fair for others to demand that solid ground.


In fact, for those who consider themselves "lovers of truth," this demand is not only fair, but an intellectual responsibility.


Let's say you and I were to go for a walk in a public park, and we encounter a stranger. He walks up to us and says, "Sirs, did you know that Canada is secretly amassing an army, and that they plan to invade our country soon?" I ask, "Why do you believe this?" And you would think it perfectly normal that I asked him to justify his claim.


If, at this point, the stranger becomes defensive and says, "Look pal, I just know. I can feel that it's true. My emotions are all tied up into it. I come out here every day telling these people passing through here these same things. Won't you join me?"


This man is behaving irrationally. You and I both recognize it, and we know that if we decided to just join him because it "felt right," an outside observer would conclude that we were also behaving irrationally, and that their reasons for joining the man in the park were ill-founded. And she would be right.


Therefore, I hope you aren't trying to duck your way under a standard of evidence that is demanded of our doctors, engineers, technicians, politicians, scientists, and others. Clergy don't get a free pass. I hope you are wiser than that, and that I misinterpreted your statement. So please tell me what you meant if I am wrong.


Now, about those analogies. They really are bad analogies, and I can show you why.


The analogy about a man loving his wife, for instance, would be relevant only if I were calling into question Stephan's purported attitude toward God. I do not doubt that his feelings are sincere. When Stephan says "I love God," he is making a truth claim ("I have certain feelings towards this thing that I call God") that I would agree with.


Forgive me for a clumsy attempt at turning your analogy into a more relevant one for our conversation:


It is something like a man saying, "I love my wife. I appreciate her virtues and charms.  Also, she is the only wife in the world with the ability to read minds, interpret dreams, and predict the future." If I say this, and someone were to say to me, "But there are all sorts of wives out there claiming to do just these things. And as far as I know, they're all full of crap! Would you consider that your wife really isn't a clairvoyant?" 


You can see where this is going. The man is behaving irrationally. He is letting the emotions he has formed for his wife to cloud his judgement when it comes to factual claims about his wife's abilities.


No clear-thinking individual should accept emotional attachment as a sign of validity of any truth claim (unless of course the claim is, "I have an emotional attachment to something"). This is obvious and should be uncontroversial. 


Quickly, let me add that the second analogy is faulty for the same reasons. Here is a more apt version than yours:


Let us say you approach a man looking at a painting in a gallery. You say to the man, "Wouldn't you at least consider the possibility that this isn't a  genuine Rembrandt, but rather a fake?" Please do, for it might very well be a fake. But if the art aficionado defensively cried out, "I know it is genuine! I felt its beauty inside my soul!" Then I would say that his reasons for believing are irrational, ill-founded, and not to be copied.


Do not conflate claims like, "I am devoted to God, and I love him," with claims like, "A supernatural, all-powerful being called God exists and interacts with our universe in various ways." The former is a claim about attitude and the latter is a claim about how the universe works. They are not the same.


Jeremy, I knew you as a lover of truth and a respecter of sound reasoning. The truth is so beautiful, and it requires no deception in order to stand on its own. As long as you stay intellectually honest, you will find it. And nobody, not even God, can blame you for being intellectually honest. Even if it leads you to doubt.

Comments

Matt said…
I am enjoying these conversations immensely. While I'm cheering for Team Stephan, I really respect your intellect and respectful logical approach. I may enter this dialogue soon, but before I do I have a few questions.

Clearly, Stephan (and myself) have "experienced" a change in our life in regards to morality. By following Christ's example and teaching, and responding to the persuasion of the Spirit that leads me to repentance, I have "experienced" a significant change. This change is not out of deistic moralism, but out of my love and devotion for Christ. Obviously, we both differ greatly by how this term is defined, for you no longer believe in a ultimate moral law giver. This being said...

My question is more a personal one, Deric. So if you wish not to answer, that is fine. But do you see a significant difference in the way you live your life now as a proclaimed athiest, in regards to morality? Has it really changed that much? Has it improved?

Has your quality of life improved?


I know these are big (and a bit redundant) questions, and I don't expect you to get too deep into the morality arguments (I'm halfway through "The Moral Landscape" by Harris, so I'd assume I'm familiar with your beliefs.) I am just terribly curious.

Anyway, keep posting these! They are very stimulating to say the least...
Unknown said…
Thanks for the comment, Matt! I really appreciate that you take the time to read people like Sam Harris. I love his writings, and The End of Faith, along with Letter to a Christian Nation, have been some of the most influential books of my life.

And I'd be delighted to answer your question. It's a great question, by the way. When I was making the transition from theist to atheist, this question burned in my mind constantly. I'll be quite honest with you, Matt: it scared me to death. I feared the path to atheism.

"What will become of my character? My morals? My restraint? My optimism?"

In retrospect, these questions seem silly. There was no good reason to believe that any of these things had to change for the worse. But they were not silly at the time. I did not want to lose my faith, and I continued to grasp at it as it slid through my fingers like fine sand.

I do live my life differently as an atheist. I live it better. Before, much of my "moral energy" was taken up worrying about pleasing God, worshiping God, praying to God, seeking divine guidance, and spreading the "good news" to other people.

All of this energy was wasted energy.

Furthermore, my attitude towards human sexuality was distorted, my political views were warped, and my priorities were all twisted.

Faith had given me a twisted attitude towards science: a stifling, oppressive view of the universe - an under-appreciation of the universe. It turns out to be so much grander, so much more mysterious, and so much more beautiful than I had ever imagined it to be as a Christian. It was really quite liberating!

When I look back at my old beliefs, I cannot get over how arrogant I was. One of the best moral changes that have happened since losing my faith is the ability to weigh moral problems in my personal life and in the world at large without that great, arrogant weight of certainty - certainty that God was on my side; that the creator of the universe concerned itself primarily with the goings-ons of people; that it was in control and would work things out for the best no matter what.

In truth, Matt, I did experience a period of intense consternation after becoming an atheist. This wasn't due to the change, but to the realization that I had wasted so many years on something that I now realize was false. The fog of these heavy thoughts soon lifted, though, replaced by a bright optimism and wonder in the workings of the universe and the significance of living in a world whose ending is unwritten, whose destiny is not yet determined.

In short, my morals have been sharpened and refined by my skepticism. They have change a lot - an awful lot. Also, my quality of life has radically improved, as have my critical thinking skills. My compassion has deepened. My respect for women has greatly improved. I could spend all day talking about all of the ways in which my life is better now, both for me and for those that have to live with me, hahaha.

I hope you found this answer helpful. Let me know what you think of The Moral Landscape when you finish it. It's been on my reading list before it was even published, and all I've read are various reviews and many, many discussions in the blogosphere. It would be interesting to hear a Christian's perspective on it.
Anonymous said…
Deric, I'm glad I've finally gotten back to this conversation (I've been a bit tied up lately).

I'm glad to agree with you that the second interpretation you outlined in your response is fallacious. And I'm glad you know me better than that. Further, I affirm your first interpretation, as far as it goes--but it doesn't quite go far enough.

In fact, I imagined you would suspect from our many past conversations that for me to confuse a truth claim with an emotional attachment is erroneous. That is not what I am attempting to exhibit in my response.

What I (perhaps inadequately) attempted to demonstrate was the simple observation that it is not irrational for people to love and appreciate things which appear to be true. In other words, I am asserting (along with Plato, Kierkegaard, and many others before me) that truth will generally exhibit a quality of beauty and goodness that people will at least acknowledge. The very notion of truth contains this idea, as you point out by your use of the phrase "lovers of truth" as opposed to simple "knowers of truth".

Hence, beauty is not subjective; there is a rough objectivity to it. When millions of people (from multiple cultures) affirm that Rembrandt is a great painter or that Mozart a great composer, we are not irrational in concluding this to be true (though not infallibly so--Mozart and Rembrandt each probably produced a handful of inferior works). Likewise, it is true that my wife could be an impostor who leads a double life and is a secret assassin plotting the overthrow of the western world. What I am suggesting is that I am not irrational in generally rejecting this theory, unless presented with some pretty overwhelming evidence.

I am not suggesting that people never find falsehood or evil beautiful. Neither am I suggesting that we should blindly reject unmistakable evidence that contrasts with our sense of goodness and beauty (as might a spouse in denial who is married to a philanderer or an abuser).

The misconception seems to be what a large part of your response is built on. I hope this clears up my position to some degree. (And pardon my brief responses--I only have snippets of time for the internet these days).
Unknown said…
Actually, Jeremy, the main part of my response was in regards to your bad analogies. I wanted to clear up the aesthetic issue because I foresaw a possibility for its abuse later on in the conversation (and I fear that I was on to something).

I affirm your first interpretation, as far as it goes--but it doesn't quite go far enough.

I'm interested. Please elaborate on this, because I don't know what I missed. Or was the rest of this comment supposed to be the elaboration?

In fact, I imagined you would suspect from our many past conversations that for me to confuse a truth claim with an emotional attachment is erroneous...

I would like to think so, but as the conversation goes on, I admit, I'm getting worried... I'm hoping you'll clarify and/or retract some previous statements so that I can continue believing this about you. While you're at it, I'd like to see you retract both of those sloppy, underhanded analogies, since I can't see any ways in which clarification would make them logically permissible.

[I]t is not irrational for people to love and appreciate things which appear to be true.

Agreed. This is why I love and appreciate secular humanism. It appears to be true. Clearly, the conversation must move past what appears to be true, since that varies wildly between different people.

...Likewise, it is true that my wife could be an impostor who leads a double life and is a secret assassin plotting the overthrow of the western world. What I am suggesting is that I am not irrational in generally rejecting this theory, unless presented with some pretty overwhelming evidence.

Jeremy, man, come on. This is another godawful analogy, and I'm disappointed that you are trying to use it.

Likewise? No. Not likewise. There is no way you can honestly believe that these two things are like each other in any significant way. They are not.

"Mozart is a great composer." This is a statement (presumably) about Mozart's worth to society and his level of talent. It is hard to argue against this statement. This is the part which has a "rough objectivity" to it. It is useful in a limited context. Would someone from South Korea or the Phillipines think him great? Would they think Phillip Glass great? Would Westerners find traditional Chinese music great? Many do not. In fact, I can think of exactly one friend who I think would enjoy it. It is a very rough objectivity.

"My wife is an assassin plotting to overthrow the West." This is not hard to argue. The answer is either yes or no. It is a fantastical claim which demands solid evidence. If there were no evidence to support it, we would be irrational to believe it. If there were overwhelming evidence to support it, it would be equally irrational to dismiss it based simply upon your feelings for her.

Come to think of it, your analogy would be better used to illustrate my point. Of course you don't make up wild stories about your wife without evidence! Similarly, I don't entertain wild theories about the creation of the earth, the immortality of my consciousness, Thetans, ghosts, goblins, or afterlifes without reasons. I don't care how beautiful any or all of these ideas are!

And reasons are precisely what I'm missing.

So let me make myself as plain as I can be:

It is NOT irrational to love something that you find beautiful and that you believe to be true.

It IS irrational to believe extraordinary claims simply because you find those claims emotionally satisfying.


If you agree with these two statements, this part of the conversation is settled, as far as I'm concerned. If not, please show me why I'm wrong in a way that doesn't involve a faulty analogy.
Unknown said…
Forgive my harsh tone, Jeremy. I don't want to shut you up with it, but I would like for the conversation to move forward, and I don't have much patience for thoughtless arguments.

Thoughtlessness is the enemy. We are scholars of reality. We aim to find truth, not muddy up the waters. Please check all of your dirtclods at the door.

And if I ever stoop to that level, call me out on it.

Ciao Ciao
Anonymous said…
I think your very thorough point centered on my inane and misapplied analogies, if I'm not mistaken.

Therefore, since we appear to agree that truth exhibits aesthetic beauty, and that "It IS irrational to believe extraordinary claims simply because you find those claims emotionally satisfying",
let me apply this principle where I intended in the beginning (before I side-tracked us with the unnecessary analogies). Then I promise I will let your conversation move forward.

1. There is adequate evidence for both the existence of a Creator God and for Jesus' identity (portrayed in the New Testament) as His crucified and risen Son and the Savior for people who have done wrong;

2. On the basis of this truth, billions of people have a deep aesthetic and moral delight in and love for Him and for the story of what He has done for the humanity;

3. This is the appropriate human response to such an incredible truth, as established by the evidence.

Feel free to attack these assertions; as I have said, billions of people of completely sound mind (from both religious and non-religious backgrounds) have for millenia found them completely rational and satisfying, and will continue to do so, by God's grace.
Unknown said…
Jeremy, it seems we have come full circle in the conversation. Your claim of adequate evidence (or any evidence) is the same claim I am waiting for Stephan to defend.

For now, I'll mirror your three claims with my own.

1. There is inadequate evidence for the existence of a creator god or any supernatural claims made by any of the world's religions. However, the natural world is an amazing, complex, beautiful thing.

2. On the basis of these truths, billions of people have a deep aesthetic and moral delight in finding out more about how our universe works and where we come from.

3. This is the appropriate human response to such an incredible truth, as established by the evidence.

Cool. Now as soon as I see some evidence for your fantastical claims, from you or Stephan, we can finally move the discussion further.
Matt said…
Thanks for your response, Deric! Sorry i'm slow it getting back to you. I have many questions, but I don't want to bombard you. First, you wrote, "In short, my morals have been sharpened and refined by my skepticism. They have change a lot - an awful lot."

How can your morals be refined if there is no objective moral law? If you believe there is an objective moral law, please enlighten me.

Secondly, could you expand on these two thoughts? "My compassion has deepened. My respect for women has greatly improved."

I'm having a difficult time understanding how atheism promotes compassion and respect for women.

Thanks for the discussion!

-Matt
Unknown said…
Matt, so sorry for taking so long to get back to you. I'll try to keep my answers short.

Your first question:
How can your morals be refined if there is no objective moral law? If you believe there is an objective moral law, please enlighten me.

I'm not sure what you mean by "objective moral law," so I'll assume that you mean something like a moral proclamation from God - the kind of thing written in holy books, for instance, or something God told you while you were in prayer.

I do not believe in this, and I see no reason why such a thing must exist in order for people to know right from wrong. What a sad world we would be in if that were the case.

I do believe that morality is tied to objective truth - that is, in certain situations, actions can be an objectively right or wrong.

For instance, it is right for me to assist an elderly person who has fallen down in the street. It is wrong for men to abuse their wives or girlfriends. It is wrong to make somebody feel bad about themselves for having a disability.

People do not need a divine decree in order to understand this.

The reason shedding my religious beliefs refined my morals is that I no longer searched through the Bible to find what God considers right and wrong (homosexuality, stem cell research, attitudes about poverty, for instance). Trying to understand these complex situations through the lens of Christianity was like trying to see an image through the wrong prescription.

So that's what I mean by refined morals. Now, I can think about moral situations without the fuzzy lens of Christianity clouding my judgment. I can rely on the best available evidence to make judgments (like scientific discoveries regarding the ability of animals to experience suffering, for instance).

Next question:
Secondly, could you expand on these two thoughts? "My compassion has deepened. My respect for women has greatly improved."

Absolutely. This ties in to the answer to your first question. Freed from black-and-white dogmatic thinking, I found a lot of religiously-motivated tension towards gay people, feminists, and just about every non-Christian religious group melt away, and I was able to feel more compassion towards those groups.

I know that there are feminists that are also religious, but I'm willing to argue that there would be far more feminists and feminist-sympathetic people out there if old-fashioned religious attitudes about women and their "place" in society didn't still pervade the American psyche.

Hope this helps,

Deric.

Popular posts from this blog

After Summer Sosltice

my very first priority for the day was to sleep in as late as possible. when my foul roommate woke me up I had to shift to priority number two: be as comfortable as possible - normal routine be damned. Upon shuffling my way into the kitchen, I discovered a moth, wet-plastered to a dirty pan. "I feel your pain, buddy." Sitting on the couch next to a glass of water, I wish I could devise a way to get the water in me without having to move my arms or head. My vacant glazed gaze gathers itself toward a brochure on the coffee table:Tips 4 Teens - Alcohol Abuse I laugh (only mentally) and for a moment, the shaking stops. Jesus, it's good to be alive.

How Many Will Enter Heaven?

Check out this quote I found online: "[C]onsider this fact: fewer than 20% of people actually think they are going to hell. And yet, in answering that question, Jesus says in Matthew 7 that FEW pass through the gate that leads to eternal life. 80% doesn't sound like few to me... do some of us have the wrong idea?" There are a number of problems with this quote. First of all, you it is assuming that "few" refers to the current ratio of professing Christians to non-Christians. What's to say that Jesus isn't referring to the entire population of all the earth over all time? In that case, it's entirely plausible that 80% of people now are really Christians, as long as there are still few total Christians when all is said and done. Maybe it applies only to the people in the crowd listening to Jesus. Or, it could refer to something else entirely (as I believe). Jesus was talking to a specific people living in a specific time. We cannot decontextualize his