Time Immortal

Samuel Skinner writes in again to follow up on my previous reply to him. It seems that my prediction has come true; between Joel and Sam, it would appear that another atheist season is upon Time Immortal.

Perhaps it’s just my fuzzy memory, but I seem to recall another such season beginning at about this time last year. Weird.

I think I’m going to handle this one in an “interlinear” fashion as well, simply because it wanders between a bunch of topics and concepts; it will be easier to framework a response (and seem more coherent) to handle it paragraph by paragraph.

By “looking up on google”, I was refering to atheists basing Morality on some something other than theistic premises. I didn’t mean to show it was the only way with that comment, just that it occurs.

That’s true to a point, although most such premises are…wanting? Yes, wanting, O Reader. Or, alternatively, they are somewhat hypocritical, as they are little more than an attempt to invoke a very (or very nearly) Christian moral sensibility without invoking the Christian deity. Of course, some sense of telos is still used in secular moral reasoning; absent an appeal to some manner of higher ideal, it is more or less impossible to suggest that there is any sort of concrete moral ideal.

Again, that’s not to say that believers are inherently more moral than atheists, nor is it to say that atheists are inherently immoral; it is simply to remark that we really cannot begin to discuss the idea that morality exists and/or that it has concrete tenets of any sort without first invoking something that atheists, on the surface at least, deny exists: something that transcends the human condition and this empirical realm in which we live.

Most people can agree that it is wrong to rape someone, or that it is wrong to kill someone. Most people can agree that men and women are human persons possessed of equal rights and dignity on the basis of their humanity alone. Behind each such concept is a moral imperative that cannot be justified from within a purely empirical or falsifiable framework, especially the notion that there is an innate dignity and equality that exists between all human beings (since all the evidence suggests that steep inequalities exist in terms of things like physical strength, level of intelligence, pain and temperature tolerance, and so on).

Scratch an atheist’s moral reasoning, I have discovered, and one very quickly finds a very subtle attempt to sneak a transcendental concept into what is ostensibly an argument from cold, concrete empiricism or falsifiability in the best scientific tradition. Because one cannot compose a moral imperative without doing so at some level.

Um… it isn’t straw man or adhominum. You are saying that because of Christians we have all this wondeful things. Implied in that statement is that noone else would have been capable of doing such deeds.

Firstly, it was a straw-man argument that was previously made, O Reader; Sam responded to my suggestion of society’s reliance on Christian moral capital by dismantling the assertion that theists are more moral than atheists. Since I made no such claim in my original article, Sam’s invocation of that claim is an almost textbook example of a straw man argument — he regards my point as having been refuted when in fact all he has done is refuted a point I did not make in the first place.

Intellectual dishonesty? Perhaps. The charitable assumption would be carelessness, of course.

At any rate, Sam attempts to justify himself above, though not to great effect; my statement comes with no attached implication that “noone else would have been capable” of establishing Western society with the moral foundation and legal principles that it has. I’m fully willing to grant the possibility that another philosophical system, apart from Christianity, could have furnished a moral society. And indeed, there are other philosophies in the world.

Of course, in looking at different societies that have emerged around the world, I also tend to look on my above statement in the same light as Churchill looked upon democracy: Christianity may not have been the only system that could have given the West its moral and legal foundation, and it may not have been the best system upon which to base that moral and legal foundation; it is better than all the others that have been tried.

We can look at the Islamic world and observe that in Islam there is not a great lot of evidence that the Muslim religion would have furnished the West with the same concepts of equality and human dignity. Much the same can be said for Hinduism (the most salient example of which is India, which still struggles with the concept of a caste system). The failures of various flavours of animism are made evident in looking at Africa, and even atheism has not had a good go of things when it has been made the official state “religious” stance — the most morally depraved regimes in human history (i.e. Stalin’s Soviet Union and Mao’s China) were very ardently atheistic.

An argument could be made in favour of Buddhism, except that Buddhism doesn’t really proseltyize and so never reached the West during its founding. And even then, those nations which comprise Buddhist majorities have either not done well, or have done well in part thanks to Western intervention.

In other words, when one takes as an example the rest of the world and the societies that have sprung up around every other flavour of philosophical conjecture, one is left with the distinct impression that while it is certainly possible that Christianity is not the only religion which might have furnished the West with its moral foundation, it is rather improbable that another religion, or any kind of secularism, would have done the job.

And like as not, the way history unfolded was that it was Christianity which formed the moral and philosophical foundation of the West, and it is Christianity’s influence which can be detected still in bills of rights and codes of law in most Western nations. That is not to say these nations are inherently “Christian,” nor is it in any way an attempt to imply, again, that Christians are the more moral — it is simply an observation of an historical reality. Christian principles built up most Western nations, and Christian soldiers fought and died to preserve them against outside aggressors (such as the Moors) during those key, formative centuries.

People aren’t inherently moral- psychopaths are a good example of those without “morality written upon their heart. In addition people have “written upon their heart” deeply immoral instinctions like tribalism.

I make two observations about Sam’s argument here.

Firstly, if one wants to refute the idea that not all people are inherently moral, one could do better than basing one’s objection on persons with some manner of disorder. I could, for example, assert that people are inherently possessed of a working pair of lungs; arguing that some people have asthma does not actually disprove the statement, because asthma is a disorder, a deviation from the norm. And I am commenting on the norm. That psychopaths act immorally is regrettable and unfortunate, yes, but it does not mean that the in the normative sense, human beings do not have an innate moral sensibility etched into the fabric of their being. It just means that they are either a) ignoring it, or b) not perceiving it.

Secondly, I observe that if what Sam says is true, then Sam has just undermined the notion that any sort of humanistic morality can be composed; that is, he has argued that the best moral code that secularism could hope to promulgate is a sort of neutral amorality. This would seem to argue against his assertions, and mine, that theists are not the only ones who can be moral.

Now, the remark about tribalism is interesting, O Reader, and Sam posits that the instinct towards it is a) immoral and b) also written on the human heart. Tribalism certainly has its bad points, although to be fair it is like any other human instinct: the morality or immorality of it is dependent on what we do with it, as much as is the case with…say…the human sexual instinct.

Tribalism can lead to xenophobia and racism, it is true, just as the human sexual instinct can, if improperly exercised, result in things like rape. However, human beings are social creatures; we tend to fare poorly when we “go it alone.” The tribal instinct bonds us to other members of a “group” (whether of ethnic or other derivation) even when our relationships with other group members are strained.

Perhaps Sam does not believe in free will, and so does not make the connection between instinct and intentionality; I do not know. If, however, he does believe in free will, I am surprised that he has missed this key point. And if he does not believe in free will, then I am surprised that he feels the need to continue to argue the point with me, since the both of us are deterministically locked in to our respective philosophies, and it is thus a waste of oxygen to even engage in a debate about them.

Although I suppose it could be argued, in that case, that he can’t help himself.

You seem to forget that we didn’t have much of a moral progress until after the 17th century. Change was little- serfdom, monarchy and a persons value based on blood were the rule for the day.

Sam is clinging here to a rather antiquated view of history. And no, O Reader, your good Author is not denying that things like kings and peasants did not exist. But Sam’s covert invocation of the concept of the Dark Ages is rather suspect, since for the last 70 years or so most historians have disputed that such an era even existed.

And in plain point of fact, the statement is false: a very concrete moral progress can be observed as one follows the historical evolution of the doctrine of the Church, which is documented back to the very early days of the Christian community in Europe and the Mediterranean area — that same doctrine would not be without an application in daily life. Codes of law and other derivations of moral systems have existed throughout history, and have undergone gradual changes as the moral awareness of human beings has expanded and been tempered.

The “moral capital” that you term didn’t occur due to the Greeks or 2000 years of Christian history. The increase in caring about human rights and civil liberties- not to mention the inherent worth of human beings- had to wait until the 19th century. That is where Western Civilizations moral capital comes from. You can point to philosophers from centuries past, but they had NO EFFECT!

Sam’s assertion, while interesting, would probably come as news to the people who drafted the Magna Carta (Christians, for the most part), as well as to William Wilberforce, the British Christian who led the charge to disband slavery back in the 18th century.

Right and wrong aren’t entirely inherent in people. Feral children don’t have it for starters. You are forming observations of reality based on your philosophy, not the other way around.

Much as with Sam’s example of psychopaths, O Reader, feral children can be considered an exception apart from the rule; after all, humanity evolved in conditions not unlike those that feral children subsist in (indeed, early humans may even have had a rougher go of it, at least initially), and yet morality was able to flourish within each tribe (tribes often went to war with each other, of course). And at some point, that morality was able to expand to include other tribes as well (we know this because of the emergence of trade between groups).

in a couple of paragraphs, Sam will give examples of other early civilizations, some of them being “primitive” tribes, who likewise established moral imperatives. That he does not see this as further evidence of the intrinsic, nature of said imperatives is — to your good Author, at least — both tragic and amusing. But then, one is used to atheists abandoning logic and reason when the discussion turns to religion.

The reason people don’t practice “love everyone” is the reason the SHakers don’t exist. You are asking why people don’t attempt to live up to an impossible standard and them blaming them for failing. By impossible, I don’t mean people can’t achieve it- I mean it won’t work in the real world. Loving everyone leaves you open to those callus enough to us it against you.

Sam demonstrates his ignorance of history; the Shakers died out because they were one of the few Christian groups that did not believe in proselytism, and also practiced strict celibacy. When, as a group, you’re not out winning new converts and not giving birth to new members, you really can’t be expected to last forever, even if the initial response to your emergence is positive.

I find it hard to believe that Sam was unaware of Shaker doctrine regarding celibacy and conversion, however; it seems more likely that his statement above is a deliberate distortion of the truth in order to make a a point that is, unfortunately, only too easily disposed of.

Chesterton once observed that “the Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult, and left untried.” I do believe that Sam has given us a most poignant example of this phenomenon.

Sam very correctly bemoans the fact that the world we live in is, for the most part, an uncharitable place, and harsh. What is unfortunate is that Sam’s proposed method of dealing with this (that is, refusing to love everyone — i.e. actively hating enemies) only serves to perpetuate the lack of charity and incredible harshness at work in the world today. In essence, Sam is saying, in one breath, that the world has no love in it, and in the next breath he is arguing that we should go on not loving, for this is the best response to our loveless world.

Do try not to get whiplash, O Reader.

What is truly unfortunate is that the standard being proposed — “love your enemies” — while difficult, is not impossible. Its primary form is forgiveness, and to understand that even those who persecute and hurt us are, nonetheless, human beings with a dignity equal to our own. And we must respect that, even if they do not; to do otherwise is simply to sink to the depths they have let themselves sink to, and to perpetuate hatred.

“Our faith binds us to extend forgiveness to them. And the fact they are impenitent does not give us license to hold on to bitterness toward them. The command is absolute: forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those (everybody, not just the people who have satisfied us emotionally by a serious act of contrition) who trespass against us.

The reasons for this are twofold. First, we aren’t God. But second, because we aren’t God, our insistence on holding on to unforgiveness (which we call “righteous anger”) hurts nobody but ourselves and those around us and, as a general rule simply gives power to the person who hurts us.

Case in point: the various people we all know who imagine that somehow or other, suckling at the breast of fury constitutes “doing something” about priest abuse, or the war, or some other issue that arouses passion. The reality is it does nothing–nothing whatsoever–about getting rid of bad clerics, helping victims, or bringing a single person closer to God or to the communion of saints. The only actual, practical results are that people who refuse to forgive evils committed are filled with bitterness, feel an ever weaker grip on their faith, “encourage” one another in small (but growing) ways to consider the possibility of schism, hatred of their country or the enemy, and nurture an ever deeper cynicism. St. James is right: the anger of man does not bring about the righteousness of God (James 1:20).

The command of Jesus is to extend forgiveness to enemies. It is not to pretend the sin never happened. It is not to pretend the impenitent person is penitent. It is not to be non-confrontational, or bend over and take it, or see no evil. It is not to refuse to take practical action, up to and including jailing or (in a just war) even killing your enemy. But it is to forgive nonetheless. It is to wish their good, to refuse to let cynicism master faith, hope, and charity, to hope for the best while keeping a firm eye on reality.

Some people believe they can play the “I don’t have to forgive until my enemy says “sorry” game”. If we buy that, we have to realize that a) we are directly disobeying Jesus Christ and b) the punishment for that sin is found in the sin itself. For, nine times out of ten, our unforgiveness is going to punish ourselves, not our enemy. We are going to be handing our happiness over — for the rest of our lives, mind you — to people who may not even know we exist, much less care. We are going to sentence ourselves to be chained to misery forever and to be slaves of people long dead. It’s folly. And it’s why Jesus is right. Refusal to extend forgiveness (for “justice’ sake”, as we always tell ourselves) is, I believe, one of the most deadly manifestations of pride in the world. It achieves nothing of what it promises (”Someday that jerk will say he’s sorry and you’ll be vindicated for all the world to see!”) and it ruins not just our life, but typically, the lives of those around us who must suffer our descent into unrequited rage.

Indeed, refusal to forgive trains us for nothing but misery. We think we will find peace when They say they’re sorry. But if we’ve trained ourselves to be bitter and cynical, we will be stuck there no matter what They say (because who can ever believe Them anyway?) And besides, if one of Them says sorry, there are always going to be plenty more who don’t. So we hold on to our bitterness in any event.”

Yes, the idea of loving one’s enemy is difficult — that is why so few people, including Sam, have made an honest go of it. And yet other people have; one recalls the nun who was shot dead in the street a couple of years ago during the riotous protests in many Muslim nations over the Mumammed cartoons. As she fell dying, her last words were “I forgive, I forgive.” Living the ideal is not impossible, because the ideal is not impossible. But it is difficult and frightening, and many people are — for lack of a better term — cowards.

Sam certainly is. He laments the fact that loving everyone “leaves you open to those callus enough to us it against you” — and he is certainly correct in his analysis of the fact love is related to vulnerability. When we love someone, we must allow ourselves to become vulnerable to that person…and that’s hard enough to do in a relationship with a girlfriend or wife, let alone in relation to nameless people who may or may not be cruel to us, and whom we may or may not have even met.

But equally: so what? So what if it leaves us open? So what if it’s difficult? What are we saying when we observe such things? Fundamentally, we are admitting our own cowardice. We are admitting that we are scared out of our skins at the thought of seeming vulnerable for even one moment. We are admitting that it terrifies us that someone might take advantage of us. Funnily, and this especially applies in our culture of casual sex and serial monogamy (which is not really monogamy at all), we take advantage of others all the time, and think nothing of it…but we are terrified of someone doing it to us.

And really, since this is a conversation between two men, it serves to note that men are particularly succeptible to fear of seeming vulnerable, and fear of being taken advantage of (despite the fact that many men think nothing of taking advantage of women when it suits their desires).

Sam is scared shitless of seeming vulnerable, as are most men. As am I, to my shame, from time to time. And yet it is to being vulnerable that we are called, O Reader, because it is in being vulnerable through our love for others that we can effect change, in our own lives and in the lives of others. And no, that doesn’t mean being a punching bag or doormat for other people (”turn the other cheek” is as much an expression of defiance as it is a call to abandon “eye for an eye” conceptions of morality). But it does mean that whenever someone wrongs us, the first thing we must see is not the wrong, but the fact that the person who wronged us nevertheless possesses an innate human dignity that is inalienable and irrevocable, by us or by any other. And even if they do not treat us with dignity, we must respond with it, because to do otherwise will only perpetuate the injustice — we would, essentially, become the very thing we would decry.

You are also wrong about all these things coming only from Christianity, or being crystalized pagan ideas. The Iriquoi Federation had the idea of individual freedom long before the West did, the Quakers were the first to take the utopian ideas seriously, the Aztecs were big on social mobility, the Mossi practiced Church-State seperation. It also happens that morality does not wither in modern hands. You seem to not know that until recently basic rights like speech, freedom from torture, and voting were not guarenteed. The bill of rights didn’t apply to states until recently.

Of course, O Reader, I can’t speak to the errors of American politicians and the applicability/non-applicability of the bill of rights to individual states. Being a Canadian, I’m used to a government that has tended to adopt a less “regional” view of the appointment of rights — both British Common Law and the Canadian were applied to the country as a whole (although provinces do have a barely-used ability to opt out of specific rights issues).

Likewise, I’m well enough aware that other cultures brought into being many of the same concepts that our own culture values. Certainly, that is to their credit. And yet, the Western notion of individual freedom doesn’t really come to us via any particular Native American tradition. The utopian ideals of the Quakers failed as surely as have the various utopian ideals of Socialists and Communists elsewhere in the world. Our notions of social mobility would seem to owe nothing in particular to Aztec tradition (and, as a bonus, we also did not inherit the Aztec tradition of ritual human sacrifice). Likewise, the predominantly North American concept of separation of church and state owes nothing in particular to the Mossi — it owes everything to the fact that a lot of people didn’t like the close ties between the British government and the Anglican Church, and wanted to practice their Christian faith without fearing state intervention in it.

As to whether morality withers in modern hands, O Reader, that’s up in the air, isn’t it? Yes, we have solidified the right to freedom of speech, and yes we have solidified the right of people to vote (even if a majority of people choose not to exercise that right in many jurisdictions). Torture is an interesting example for Sam to bring up, since even in the United States the debate over torture and the right of the government to engage in it is still up in the air. One also observes, O Reader, that states which have made atheism an explicit policy of the state — such as North Korea and China — regularly engage in very violent and brutal forms of torture. One also observes that in many parts of the world, Christians are at the forefront of the debate on the anti-torture side.

Then you state that Christianity is responsible for countries developing smoothly. Not thinking clearly, are you? Here- I’ll give it a better shot. “The countries that develop smoothly do so because of white people. Exceptions are, of course to be expected”. Here is the funny thing — although blantantly racist, my statement is MORE accurate than yours. The Catholic countries in the world are the poorest and unstable relative to their neighbors. The ones that did well are Western and Northern Europe, the United States and Japan. Of them only one is very religious. It happens to be the one that is the most immoral. Yep — good old U S of A.

Sam’s last statement (about criminality) is a common atheist argument, although it has been demonstrated that it is not a particularly truthful claim. Indeed, overall, those of a secular bent (including those who formally declare their atheism) are (roughly) three times more likely to commit a crime than those of a theistic bent.

Sam is right, in part, that Catholicism is the religion of some of the poorer nations on Earth. However, if one considers the 50 poorest nations — Afghanistan, Angola, Bangladesh, Benin, Bhutan, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Cambodia, Cape Verde, Central African Republic, Chad, Comoros, Democratic Republic of Congo, Djibouti, Equatorial Guinea, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Gambia, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Haiti, Kiribati, Laos, Lesotho, Liberia, Madagascar, Malawi, Maldives, Mali, Mauritania, Mozambique, Myanmar, Nepal, Niger, Rwanda, Samoa, São Tomé and Príncipe, Senegal, Sierra Leone, Solomon Islands, Somalia, Sudan, East Timor, Togo, Tuvalu, Uganda, Tanzania, Vanuatu, Yemen, and Zambia — one observes that Christianity, and in particular Catholicism, is not the only religion represented in the list. Islam is also well-represented in the list, for example.

But then, Catholicism and Islam are also the predominant religion in some of the wealthier nations on Earth, as are other flavours of Christianity. In other words, no one religion has a license on poverty, nor necessarily on prosperity. However, one observes that the Western paragidm of scientific advancement — which can be correlated to Western prosperity — is firmly grounded in the concept of the university and related academic institutions, and one further observes that it was the Church which opened the first universities in Europe, and which established the foundations of modern academic tradition therein.

In fact, the best way to find out way a society was able to progress would be to actually examine it. I recomend “Guns, Germs and Steel”- it explains the situation rather well.

But, if you need a short version:

• US - political stability, natural resources, large amounts of labor
• Canada - secure, resources, trade
• Australia - same as Canada
• England - waterways, steel production, early industrialization
• Germany - Steel, waterways

You get the idea. Japan and Scandanavia are the odd ones out. Claiming that these countries are better because of Christianity is false — they are better morally because they are rich. Wealth buys medical technology, food and enough resources to give to the poor and prevent secretarian infighting. The exception is oil wealth which leads to gold rush like situations.

As it happens, I’ve read Guns, Germs and Steel, actually. It was an interesting book, though I found it somewhat uncompelling.

An aside: I have broken up the text of Sam’s letter into paragraphs, but I have not deleted any portion of the text in Sam’s latest correspondence with me. I mention this, O Reader, simply as a disclaimer prior to noting that nowhere in the above listed nations do I see mention of Scandinavia (Germany is not a Scandinavian nation). Nor do I see mention of Japan. Sam gives us no data about these nations, which is a curious slip on his part given that both nations form the core of his attempt at yet another rebuttal in the paragraph that follows the list.

Still, we can pick apart Sam’s assertions in spite of the fact that he has neglected to include the two regions on the list.

Scandinavia, comprising Denmark, Norway, and Sweden (and sometimes considered to also include Finland and Iceland), emerged during a period of Christianization almost a millenium ago, and the politics of the region were strongly influenced by the various tidal shifts in European Christendom that followed (such as the Reformation). Most Scandinavian nations have a national church of some kind (i.e. the Church of Norway, a derivative of Lutheranism). One also observes that the flags of pretty much every Scandinavian nation incorporate a cross in their design — representative of Christianity.

And even though Scandinavian nations in the modern era are not as Christian as they once were, this fact does not refute the idea that they are still banking on, and living on, reserves of Christian moral capital (in that their laws and views of rights own much to the Christian philosophy that is a part of their heritage).

Japan is an interesting example, although one observes that Japan’s prosperity in the modern era is as much due to the reconstruction efforts of the United States as it is to the technical ingenuity of the Japanese people themselves, which is also true of Japan’s style of government (many aspects of which are borrowed from Western political traditions). Even in this tiny, not particularly religious island, the subtle suggestion of Christian moral capital can be discerned.

Of course, O Reader, the above is not the really interesting concept. What is the really interesting concept, as far as Sam’s assertions go, is the statement made that Japan and Scandinavia “are better morally” — presumably, Sam is meaning to say that these two regions are morally superior to any of the five nations which he listed. Which, of course, begs the question: are they morally superior?

Japan has a notoriously high rate of suicide, and the sexual…ah…oddities that nation has come up with in recent decades are well known. Indeed, Japan is noted for a high rate of sexual repression among its population, and pornographic content is much more easily come by — and available in a much wider variety of forms — than in North America. Also, the status of women in Japanese society is still somewhat…suspect.

Meanwhile, many Scandinavian nations have legalized prostitution (there have even been cases that have percolated into the media of women being told that they will be denied unemployment benefits because the “job” of “prostitute” is available to them; whether all of these are from Scandinavian nations is not data I have on hand), and in a few places incest is taking the first tentative steps toward “normalization.” Incest! In Norway, about a quarter of all convicted criminals simply do not remember to show up for their sentence, which itself is not illegal.

And in both Scandinavia and Japan, the birthrate has fallen to such a low point that only massive immigration can sustain the populations of those countries at their current level. Since Japan doesn’t allow all that much immigration, they are headed for a demographic collapse that they are currently scrambling to offset with research into robotics (so that robots can take over aspects of life that traditionally would have been filled by children and grandchildren). In most Scandinavian countries, the future holds the promise of demographic inversion, in which Scandinavians will become a minority in their own countries.

At minimum, a nation needs a birthrate of about 2.1 live births per woman in order to sustain its population at a constant level. If the country wants to grow, even grow economically, the birthrate obviously has to be higher in order to provide a steady increase in the population proportionate to the increased demand for workers in a more vibrant economy. The new generation also enables former generations to “age out” and ease in to the social programs for which so many Scandinavian nations are known; these social programs obviously require a large tax base in order to provide funding for them.

Of course, in the wake of secularism sweeping in to the nations, the priorities of individuals have shifted somewhat, and more and more Scandinavian women are electing to avoid having kids altogether, or are limiting themselves to one child had some time after the age of thirty. Obviously, it’s their right to do so, but those choices are causing a major demographic problem for the nations in which they live — in essence, these nations are imperiled by the collective selfishness of their populations. That’s not particularly moral, and the effects could be dire.

Most of the immigration to Scandinavian countries is from Muslim nations, incidentally, and in most cases Muslims are the fastest-growing demographic group in those countries. How ironic, then: the secularism of the Scandinavians is but a temporary thing between their Christian origins and their Islamic future.

Or more simply: you are wrong.

The Reader may disagree, but I do not feel that Sam has adequately demonstrated that I am incorrect. Moreover, he himself has been caught in several rather obvious errors.

Christian ideals do not inherently lead to the principle of individual worth.

And absent at least some concept of telos, O Reader, the ideal of individual worth is meaningless. According to purely secular categories, there is no innate dignity to a human being, and no inherent equality between human beings in general.

Facism is an excellent example — and only managed to seize control in Catholic countries.

Sam is fudging history, O Reader.

Fascism is a bit of a nebulous term, and could be applied to several different governments. Imperial Japan circa 1940 could be called a fascist state, for example, and Japan was not a particularly Catholic country at all. Germany, where Naziism (regarded as the ultimate example of fascism) emerged, was more a Lutheran state than anything else. Italy was a Catholic state, but Mussolini was an atheist who converted to Catholicism only in the final months of his life, well after being driven out of power.

It is a case of hindsight — of course they went towards individual freedom — look at all the strands for it. The same case could be made for totalitarianism — does not God rule over mankind unquestioned?

One thing that puzzles me is how atheists pronounce so confidently on the falsehood and delusional nature of religion, and yet utterly fail to demonstrate any comprehension of what the religion teaches. It often seems as if the whole philosophical conjecture we call “atheism” is pre-supposed on nothing more than a series of straw man arguments and deliberate distortions of readily-available facts.

Certainly, God “rules” over all…but to say that God is unquestioned even by His own is stunningly inaccurate. God is above all creation, and is the final arbiter and judge of right and wrong. But how each human being lives out the call to morality is not dictated by God; it is left up to each of us to decide. How each human being responds to the commandments of God and Christ is not dictated by God, nor do we follow those stipulations as though mere puppets on strings; again, we are left to choose whether or not we will abide by each tenet.

It seems at first a contradiction: God is at once transcendent and holds all authority, and yet is completely “hands off” where human conduct and morality is concerned. He is at once personal and present, and yet gives us space to work in, even if the works we do are immoral. And yet, that is the nature of God.

But then, as has been speculated, perhaps Sam does not believe in free will. Certainly, as an atheist, he would be consistent in his beliefs if he did not, in fact, believe in the idea that human beings can make their own choices; after all, all we are (in the atheist view) is a meaty outer shell encapsulating a bundle of opportunistic, deterministic chemical reactions that we have no control over.

Why should a human ruler not be given the same power?

Humans are not God, ergo humans should not wield similar power. God is incorruptible; humans are highly corruptible, ergo humans should not wield similar power. God does not sin; humans are tempted and do sin, ergo humans should not wield similar power. God is perfect; humans are imperfect, ergo humans should not wield similar power.

Don’t lives only have meaning in the service of God?

Note the tragic blindness of the secular, O Reader — the inability to understand that all human life has intrinsic meaning, regardless of the actions of the person doing the living.

To answer Sam directly, livs do not have meaning only in the service of God — lives find their ultimate meaning in carrying out God’s will, which is a very different concept indeed. All lives — whether the person doing the living believes in God or not — have an intrinsic, inalienable value that flows to them from God, for all human beings are a part of God’s creation, and are loved by Him.

Why not do the same for the state?

The state is not God, ergo the state should not wield similar power. God is incorruptible; the state is highly corruptible, ergo the state should not wield similar power. God does not sin; the state is tempted and does sin, ergo the state should not wield similar power. God is perfect; the state is imperfect, ergo the state should not wield similar power.

As always faith has no true shape — only what people put in. And garbage in, garbage out…

Perhaps it is fitting to end this missive with the Nicene Creed, which demonstrates rather easily that faith does have a very definite, concrete shape to it:

We believe (I believe) in one God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible. And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God, and born of the Father before all ages. (God of God) light of light, true God of true God. Begotten not made, consubstantial to the Father, by whom all things were made. Who for us men and for our salvation came down from heaven. And was incarnate of the Holy Ghost and of the Virgin Mary and was made man; was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate, suffered and was buried; and the third day rose again according to the Scriptures. And ascended into heaven, sits at the right hand of the Father, and shall come again with glory to judge the living and the dead, of whose Kingdom there shall be no end. And (I believe) in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Giver of life, who proceeds from the Father (and the Son), who together with the Father and the Son is to be adored and glorified, who spoke by the Prophets. And one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. We confess (I confess) one baptism for the remission of sins. And we look for (I look for) the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Amen.

That is a very solid definition of the “shape” of the Christian faith, and since the fourth century this creed has been a decisive and exceptionally handy “tool” in analyzing whether a particular belief, denomination, or theological theory is Christian or not. And it continues to be useful in that regard, which is why Christians everywhere continue to profess it.

As for the notion of “garbage in, garbage out,” Sam is describing many things with that closing remark — and even his own atheism is not immune.

Grace (yes, my wife) writes in to try and stimulate a bit of creative thought on my part.

Ken, do you consider yourself an orthodox Catholic and in what sense? Just curious.

Grace
Love You

I love you too, sweetheart.

As to whether I consider myself an orthodox Catholic, the short answer is: yes, I do. Now, I will be the first person (though hardly the only one) to tell the Reader that I have not lived anything like an exemplary Christian life; I’m a sinner as sure as anyone else is, and I mean it very literally when I reflect that Christ came into the world to save sinners, “of whom I am first.” If you wrote every sin I’ve committed on a standard yellow sticky note, you could wallpaper Edmonton.

But as the priest at Mass noted yesterday, that heightened awareness of sinfulness is one of the things that separates the people who have entered into the light of the Christian faith (of which Catholicism is the pinnacle) from those still caught up in darkness. That’s not to say that Christians are any more or less sinful than non-Christians…it is merely to remark that they are more aware that they do, in fact, sin. For what does sin, despite its reality, mean to an atheist?

In my faith journey, I try and live by the Bible, the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and the Code of Canon Law. I could ask for no better guidelines for living than these three books, and to the best of my ability I try and live a life that follows the tenets outlined in each of them. Of course, I fail at doing so on many accounts, which is why I am eternally grateful that Christ instituted in the Church the glorious and somber Sacrament of Reconciliation (also called Confession). When I am confronted, in my life, with a conflict between my desires and the teachings of the Church, I strive to remember that I am flawed and weak, and that there will never arise a circumstance in which I am correct and the revelation given to (and through) the Church incorrect. And should any occasion arise in which I cannot achieve even that reconciliation in mind, I will still cleave to the faith and my ongoing participation in it, rather than walk away as so many of my family have done.

I rise and fall on the Apostle’s Creed (and the Nicene Creed as well), and that same prayer I would gladly have as my death warrant, if it came to that.

For me, the source and summit of faith is the Eucharist, and ongoing participation in that Sacrament is the most important action I can, will, and do undertake in my life. I find, especially, that I am drawn to, and captivated by, the Blood of Christ during the celebration of the Eucharist. During consecration, I always strive to ensure that I can catch at least a glimpse of the cup holding the Blood, and for me the moment that the wine is consecrated and transformed is the pinnacle of the Mass.

I hope that the above, while short, is an adequate answer to the question posed. It’s a complex question that I could, if I gave myself more time, compose a very lengthy answer to. I’ve tried to hit the main points, at least. And I hope I have done at least that.