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…just like sometimes we do not. None of us is perfect, and some of them make legitimate points.

But, their indoctrination is not different than ours, so if we are wrong to do it by their standards, then they ought not to, as Ken rightly notes. And if pursuing the truth is a worthy ultimate aim, the aim expressed in the article of using “all the tools of science and humanity” is good, if incomplete in its application because it denies some basic parts of humanity and is not ’science’.

A short response to a few of the dumber statements concerning that summer camp for skeptics:

“It seems kind of like an accident almost, like the Big Bang that created the universe was an accident…It was a beautiful mistake or something.”

Aside from the multiple uses of subjunctive or probabilistic phrasing, the thought behind this is interesting. To think that the Big Bang (or, whatever the physicalist will call the originating moment of the universe, be it the explosion or the proximal excitement of quantum fields before the explosion or whatever first cause they posit) was an accident or a mistake indicates a few possibilities. First, that the claimant is of the opinion that, despite the flawed nature of humanity and our understanding of the universe, that somehow the origin of the universe was somehow wrong. This is very presumptuous and puts the claimant in a “god’s point of view” or an onmiscient third party position. That any human is not knowledgable of all the knowledge humanity knows let alone all that is knowable and can never fully detach oneself from the first person persepective undercuts this possibility if one is to be rational.*

Another possibility is that the claimant, in a similar fashion to the above, can distinguish random chance from other possibilities. Other than the presumption, given that, when tested, people generally can not generate truly random sequences of coin tosses (perhaps experts in statistics can) it is improbable that humans can determine whether the confluence of variables, that we theists sometimes call anthropic principles, which operate in the origin and continuation of the universe are random or not. By what methodology can we, for example, determine whether the explosive force at Planck time (which, if fractionally more or less powerful, would not have resulted in the universe) was random. I know of none, but to claim our existence a result of chance we would have to be able to have such a methodology and test it, as we can with coins, if we are to be rational.*

“but the thrust of the camp is to teach children to think skeptically about everything, including Religion and the supernatural.”

But not science or the human intellect it would seem. To be a true skeptic, whether Academic or Pyhronhic, one must doubt the truth of anything that can be doubted. A classic example is Descartes‘ First Meditation in which the agent is unable to trust the workings of his mind or her senses. The only truth that remains is that the agent exists because he exists if his thinking is true and she exists if her thinking is false because in either case the agent is thinking something. If they do become true skeptics, they, technically, would not fear anything, including stepping in front of a bus, since they can not trust their senses.

What the camp is actually doing is training them to think, at best, empirically and, more likely, scientistically. They are supposed to trust their senses and only those statements issued by the senses are to be held as true, so long as they can be tested by others. Personal experiences, such as the presence of God as He forgives, heals, unites, or feeds an agent are not acceptable because they are not testable.

Thus, the author is not well versed in the actual meanings of words as opposed to their colloquial misuse.

“People are like, ‘Oh, fossils are planted and they aren’t really real’…Well, if the whole theory of evolution is just like a ruse or a prank, we’ve done a really good job. We’re really good at pranking people.”

Ad hominem. The article later seems to pick on Catholics a little bit and Christians in general, but the Catholic magisterium and many well educated Christians across denominational lines recognize the legitimacy of evolution. That all theists are grouped together under “people” is very disingenuous of the camp leaders and the author as it places the weakest position in theism (both scripturally/theologically and scientifically) as representative.

“As soon as someone mentions faith in an argument, the argument is over,” says 15-year-old Ryan Lee, who skipped high school and is entering his junior year of college in Arizona. “Faith and the scientific method can’t be combined in the same argument.”

So, the scientist’s argument is over once he admits to his faith in the empirical process or in the veracity of his sense experience? And why does faith end an argument? Is faith always right? Does it invalidate everything else said? And does faith need to be used or merely mentioned? If I say “Socrates was a man, men are mortal, God is good, thus Socrates is mortal” is my argument unsound or invalid?

Why is a junior in college going to summer camp? And, does the fact that he is a junior mean that his statements are more sound? Does having a doctorate mean that someone is more intelligent than someone else? Or simply more prosperous and educated? If he is speaking outside of his experience and education, he is no better than anyone else.

Well, if we grant that the universe is random chance (which seems unlikely) then from where do we get our assumption that the universe is such that we can study it and yeild fruitful results? Such results are less likely to be found in a universe ruled by chance (and by chance, I do not mean the indeterminacy of, say, quantum physics in which the specific outcome of event X is unknown but its probability is known, but where indeterminacy is more broadly and deeply present — QM still has a sense of order, but not determinacy) than in an ordered universe. Can “God orders the universe” be a sound assumption in a scientific process? I think so. Thus, science and faith can coexist in an argument.

“Bupp says polls show that people who believe in reason, not God, are among the fastest growing groups in America. And this camp is designed to teach children to investigate and question everything. They study fossils, they learn about Morality without religion, they meet an expert who debunks mysteries like weeping icons and ghosts and crop circles.”

Hmmm…God in Christ is Logos - Reason - made flesh. Why do ‘rational’ people seem to think that God and reason are, and only can be, mutually exclusive? Should they be skeptical of dichotomies? If they are skeptical about everything, then yes. But, they are not skeptics, only scientistics.

Also, if ’skeptics’ are among the fastest growing groups, a) are, say, Muslims growing faster? but more importantly, b) a group growing from 10k to 20k or 100k to 200k or 1m to 2m may be growing at a rate of 100% in the time period, but if Christians were to grow at that rate, they would go from ~240m of a 300m population to 480m of a 300m population. Theists can not grow as fast because they are a supermajority of the population. But they may grow 5m members for every 1m skeptics. They are still growing bigger.

Again, do they question their senses or the scientific method?

Also, what sort of morality? Utilitarianism, which objectifies people? Kant’s deontology? But why should I follow what reason tells me or what the utlity calculus prescribes? From where does anything other than me get worth?

Yeah, weeping icons and crop circles are so the same thing. And ghosts and cropcircles are believed in by all theists. Just because a scientific explanation can be given for something does not mean that that something is not mysterious. An icon that weeps a red-purple chemical due to a reaction of parts of its composition with water does not explain why the water and the parts reacted on, say, the feast day of the figure described in the icon on which the country the figure is a patron for was brutally attacked by an enemy.

“As an educator, I like to teach critical thinking at a deep and erudite level, because it’s not embedded in the curriculum as much as I’d like to see,” McQuaig says. “And this provides a place for kids to talk about deep questions that many into adulthood don’t even consider and contemplate.” Are they trying to create little atheists? “Absolutely not!” McQuaig says. “We want to create little thinkers. Little thinkers that explore their own capacity and the external world, with all of the tools of science and humanity. That’s why we’re here.”

I am all for deeper and more erudite education. But when students in the age group of the camp sometimes have trouble finding the answers to questions like “what was the French reaction to the American Revolution” in a short text that reads, in part, “The French saw the advancement of liberty in America and decided to fight for it” there is, perhaps, a reason, especially with our currently mainstreamed educational practice, to have a ‘dumbed down’ curriculum.

Oh, and why is ’skepticism’ or empiricism automatically assumed as the only legitimate form of deeper and more erudite education? Questions like “What happens after death?”, “What is and why should I be good?”, “Why am I here?”, “What is the ultimate nature of the universe?”, “Who am I?” are routinely addressed, at least in my experience, in religious schools before students reach adulthood. Again, why assume science = thinking? Is not faith a “tool of humanity”?

“As soon as they read Richard Dawkins,” he counters, “I win.”

How? I could just as easily say “As soon as they read Thomas Aquinas, I win.” but it is not nearly so simple.

“If God really, really wanted us to know he existed, he’d make daily appearances: Like ‘It’s 3:15. Oh, it’s God time!’”

Well, it is all His time, but…how can one know that the gentleman who helped you pick up your groceries or the lady who offered a comforting smile on the bus was not God mimicking a human being or a human being representing god through his or her own agency? Why do some need the whiz-bangery of miraculous appearances to even begin to contemplate God’s existence?

Why be scared of not existing? As the ancient Epicureans postulated, you are not there to miss yourself after you are dead. And budding philosophers would know something is askew with the arguments they are using, if not to my detail (which may be completely wrong) or my conclusion.

* rational here means the use of human intellect and senses as prescribed by empiricists such that reason is divorced from (seemingly - I don’t think it can be seperated from) faith.

Ken adds: I didn’t really comment on what the kids said in the article, because I very much doubt that it was their own thoughts they were expressing. The example of the kid going after those who denounce fossils as some kind of ruse was, in my opinion, very clearly parroting something “an adult” told her, and was not so much exercising her (I believe it was a young girl, at any rate) own capacity for rational thought as she was deferring to a dubious authority.

Not that I think fossils are a ruse, mind. I do, however, think the adult who instructed this child in what to say had a bit of an axe to grind.

As to the rest, Chris hits the nail squarely on the head. This is supposedly a camp for skeptics and agents of ‘reason’, yet on closer analysis the teachers and participants both display neither trait.

1. I like voliscience as outlined.

But, even if one works with omniscience, one must remember that God (”the Judeo-Christian one”) is eternal, not everlasting. God is outside of our time standards. It is not that God knows what we do ‘before’ we do it. He knows it ‘as’ we do it, since all moments in time are present to Him in one mental act. To claim that He knows ‘before’ we do something is to extract His knowledge of all time to an arbitrary point in time.
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Nicholas writes in with a response to…well, to what I assume is this article.

It is an interesting discourse, to be sure.

I agree with you that atheism is a philosophical position that cannot be proved beyond all possible doubt. But it can be proved beyond all reasonable doubt that all the gods so far postulated do not measure up to any reasonable standard of what a god should offer. Almost all of humankind has accordingly rejected Thor and Zeus and Baal and countless others.

If people honestly read the Torah, they are bound to conclude that YHWH is a depressingly human fantasy of a depressingly human god, if anything a nastier tyrant than Stalin. And if they actually read the gospels, they will note that Jesus’s recorded remarks do not contain anything that marks him out as decisively superior to other prophets, or to previous philosophers. (For example, in the Crito dialogue, Plato attributes to Socrates the stance that we should not return evil for evil.)

I’m going to interject at this point, simply because what follows is a shift of topic. Formulating a coherent response is not something I’ll struggle with either way, but it occurs to me that it will be easier for the good Reader if I respond to each charge at the moment it is made, rather than in a large final summation.

First, I observe that with what could be called depressing truth to form, Nicholas assertion that “all the gods so far postulated do not measure up to any reasonable standard of what a god should offer” is not followed up with arguments from evidence or reason in support of it. It may well be that no deity postulated until this point in history satisfies even a reasonable standard of what a god should offer, but Nicholas in no way details any examples of any supposed inadequecies of any particular deity.

Of course, the whole issue of a “reasonable standard” seems laughable to me — precisely what would constitute a reasonable standard for a deity to uphold? Who defines what that standard should be? Indeed, where in the human-deity hierarchy does humanity fall relative to God? Are we even in a position to demand that God conform his actions to what our definition of a “resonable standard” is? It smacks of hubris, and one cannot help but conjure in mind the image of a loinclothed man armed only with a spear criticizing as “destructively inadequate” the quantum torpedos of the USS Enterprise (NCC 1701-E).

It only follows that humanity is in any position to hold God to a “reasonable standard” if, in fact, humanity is “above” or “equal to” God. Of course, if humanity is “above” or “equal to” God, then humanity likewise has no need of God, but that’s beside the point. If, in fact, God is “above” humanity, however, then humanity is in no position to demand God behave according to any human standard since, by definition, the human standard is the inadequate one, and the ways of God superior to it. That’s not to say that we can’t complain, but if we do complain it must be understood that we will be doing so with all the reason and rationalism of a six-year old denied the right to begin watching a fourth hour of television by its parents.

Fundamentally, when I read Nicholas‘ statements above, I am left with the impression that Nicholas is bitter and/or upset with religion in general — his statement equating the Judeo-Christian God with Stalin certainly points to this. Likewise, his dismissal of Jesus’ teachings as nothing new illustrates, I think, a conscious desire to reject something about Christianity. Not that this comes as a surprise, of course. Atheism tends, as a rule, to adopt as its own the prevailing morality of the culture in which the atheist(s) in question reside, minus whatever proscribed activity the atheist(s) desire(s) to engage in (which usually is something to do with sex). I’ve heard all manner of arguments in this direction, from the sort that bemoan the fact that 25-year-old virgins still exist (Hans Machel) to those which argue that marital fidelity is a biological inclination that we need to rise above (Richard Dawkins).

Yes, others may have articulated similar sentiments to those that Christ spoke of, and perhaps that should be clue for us that some truths are universal. But equally, just because truths were articulated by other philosophers independently of Jesus does not mean that the teachings themselves were fully understood (if at all understood) apart from Christ.

Regarding the explicit statement that Plato attributed something akin to the Golden Rule to Socrates well in advance of Jesus’ life and death, I and others have observed that “[t]his is another sample of Thomas’ second objection at work. It boils down to saying the natural law is knowable to all, so we don’t need to believe that the natural law comes from God. The sleight of hand comes in when “God” is confused with “Religion“. So the atheist routinely speaks as though Christians believe that nobody had ever heard that murder or theft or adulter were bad until Moses “revealed” this and imagines it a great coup to announce that, in fact, people have always known such things are wrong. Apparently, the people who say these things have never read the story of Cain and Abel. If they had, they would know that this was no news flash to ancient Israel. Nor was it a news flash to Paul, whose entire arraignment of the pagans in Romans 1 makes it clear that the natural law is knowable by everybody and that the failure of the pagans (who never heard of the Ten Commandments) to obey the natural law was blameworthy. In fact, no educated believer says the Ten Commandments revealed the natural law. Rather, the point of the Ten Commandments is that they make clear to Israel who is the author of the natural law which humanity has known for time immemorial. It makes clear that the natural law is not a mere artifact of wind and weather which can be ignored when it inconveniences us, but an iron fact of our being put there by the author of our being.

Being ignorant of this elementary fact makes the author ignorant of another elementary fact, that Jesus’s Golden Rule was, in fact, often *not* understood in even the most rudimentary of societies long before it was enunciated by Jesus. That’s because the Golden Rule requires grace in order to be understood, much less lived. Judaism articulated the basic norm that all pagan societies, at their best, could attain: love your neighbor, hate your enemy. It’s the norm we still basically live by today. Jesus’ Golden rule implied love for enemies because it included enemies in the term “neighbor”. It remains, apart from grace, an impossible and (for the worldly) ridiculous standard. The notion that anybody — especially an atheist — would aspire to it is a classic example of the way in which atheists live off Christian capital.”

I agree with you also, Ken, that we all believe many things that we cannot prove. For example, I believe that I have free will to make choices, and even to act on a whim. But I cannot disprove the assertion that an entity with a complete understanding of human psychology could forecast my every choice, including what I thought was a whim.

Gods with all of the attributes frequently claimed for gods, cannot exist. For example, if I am right that I have free will, there cannot be any omniscient god. If on the other hand I am wrong, there cannot be any just god, if it punishes my predictable mistakes.

This is a curious thing for Nicholas to believe, given his atheistic stance. For really, it is only by first invoking a sense of telos that humanity can postulate that it has a will, especially one that is free. Fundamentally, and from a purely empirical standpoint, a human being is just a fleshy outer shell wrapped around a bundle of opportunistic chemical reactions that are partly random and partly a response to outside stimuli. There is no free will in that — these words that I am typing right now are a testament to nothing more than a churning electrochemical reaction taking place within my brain, and series of signals being transmitted through my nervous system. Indeed, my very theism is nothing more than either an expression of something within my genes (and therefore meaningless, and certainly no indicator that I am possessed of a will of any sort) or the result of a response to either a chemical/hormonal reaction within my body or an external stimuli (and therefore, again, meaningless).

Another problem with atheists, I find, is that they tend to be more fundamentalist in their conception of who God must be than even the most rigid, fanatical fundamentalist theists are. Note the sudden transition to strict either/or thinking in Nicholas‘ writing, O Reader — this was a predictable shift on his part. Now, to be fair, historical theology has given him some ammunition to work with, in postulating on the omnipotence of God. But as others have pointed out, “omnipotence” is not the best word to describe the nature and scope of God’s knowledge and power. Better terms would be “volipotence” and “voliscience“.

“The concept of voliscience describes a Creator who knows whatever He wants, whenever He wants, to the extent that the concept of time is even relevant to such a being. Not only does this concept not limit God, but it has the additional benefit of being far more Biblically accurate than the traditional concept of an omniscient God. In fact, if one thinks about the matter for more than five seconds, one quickly realizes that the concept of voliscience is far less limiting than the use of the concept of omniscience has historically proven to be. One might also consider the concept of volipotence to be of some benefit in better conceiving a rationally sound and Scripturally precise nature of the Biblical God, but it’s probably less necessary since the key stumbling point for most Christians and atheists alike here is not related directly to omnipotence per se, but rather their inability to distinguish between the capacity of omnipotence and the action of omniderigence.

The fact that there is no possible logical conflict between voliscience and volipotence only adds to the rational appeal of the concept in my opinion, although I regard the nominal theodictic conflict between omnipotence and omniscience to reflect thinking so shallow as to border on stupidity anyhow.”

Famously, the life cycle of the Ichneumonidae, and much else, such as the facts that almost all life forms on this planet produce more (often hugely more) offspring than survive to maturity, and the doomed young often die in terror and pain, prove that there is no benign and omnipotent god.

Given that the Bible — especially the New Testament — is full of examples of ways in which suffering and death are shaped into pathways by which God’s glory is revealed, and given that some of Jesus’ teachings even go so far as to point out the role that death and dying play in God’s plan for His creation, the charge that any incidences of suffering and/or death in nature somehow disprove the idea of a benign god is specious and inconsequential…as has been discussed on this site a goodly number of times. Nicholas in particular would do well to remember that he’s been “thwumped” on this issue before on this very site.

These facts are consistent with the existence of any number of cruel gods, including C S Lewis’s “cosmic sadist”. They are also consistent with gods who have only limited powers and bungle important things. I am not atheist about such gods, but I choose (I think!) not to believe they exist, because there is no positive evidence for their existence.

I have long maintained, O Reader, that most strains of atheism are, at their core, built up around some manner of positivism, and certainly that has always been the case with Nicholas‘ atheism (as evidenced here). What is interesting is that he is willing to consider his personal opinions about the relative “cruelty” of the function of the natural world as evidence against the existence of the supernatural, and yet is unwilling to consider things like unexplained healings following in lockstep with prayers of intercession to the saints (Padre Pio in particular!) and other attested miracles as evidence in favour of the existence of the supernatural.

It’s not exactly a rational way of looking at the world, discarding the evidence one doesn’t like and improperly using as evidence that which is, on closer examination, not really evidence in support of one’s point at all. That things like predation, diseases, and often-lethal environmental pressures exist in the world tells us nothing about the intentions of any hypothetical creator; they merely tell us that within creation there are several extant hierarchies and concrete realities. Bigger animals and smaller animals exist, and some bigger animals eat some of the smaller ones. Different environmental forms exist, and sometimes environmental changes or events can have devastating results because — let’s be honest — any time there’s any sort of dynamism on a scale as large as the crust of a planet, there is bound to be the potential for a dramatic release of energy.

And to it all, we can honestly say: so what? Nature is designed by something way beyond human comprehension to begin with; should it be any kind of surprise, then, that we do not always understand the ways and means with which it operates?

You can call this sort of atheism a religion if you like, but it’s rather an eccentric use of the word. In the usual use, I think, religions always include elements of the supernatural, and of ritual. Even a stripped-down version of Buddhism includes mystical elements such as the denial of the self. And, as far as I know, all forms of modern Buddhism as actually practised include rituals. Tibetan lamaism includes all manner of weird spirits and deities.

This is mostly true, although it serves to note that many atheists — Sam Harris being perhaps one of the more prominent — draw upon Buddhism as an example of an “atheist” religion (Harris himself practices some “rituals” — including, but not limited to, meditation — of the Buddhist religion). And at any rate, certain forms of Taoism are almost completely free of supernatural concepts, unless one counts the concept of “peace” as supernatural.

As to whether the “denial of the self” can be counted as “mystical,” I leave up to the reader. Self-denial in various forms infuses many aspects of secular culture (dieting, for an easy example) without seeming to stray into the realm of mysticism, after all.

In contrast, I don’t admit to worshipping anything. I accept modus ponens because it works. I accept the evidence of randomised double-blind trials of drugs, because they have given us drugs which work. But I don’t sing hymns to modus ponens or the smallpox vaccine, or make them burnt offerings.

Employing a touch of Nicholas‘ logic in reverse, I observe that many drugs can and do produce all manner of rather horrifying side effects, including (in some cases) death. Clearly we can posit, then, non-benign (if not outright cruel) intent on the part of pharmaceutical researchers?

Yes, I’m being facetious.

Nicholas is correct in that he does not admit to worshipping anything, and indeed he probably does not ritualize even those things which he does worship. But my contention is that we all worship something — even sex or money — and this contention stands. When I posed a set of questions in the article I linked to at the beginning of this posting, Nicholas responded thusly:

1. What do I feel entitled to? The rights set out in the European Convention of Human Rights.
2. Why? Because this convention is largely common sense, and has been incorporated into the law of the country I live in.
3. Why am I so angry/sad/bitter? What makes you think I am any of these?
4. If I had to, how would I define happiness? Aristotelian eudaimonia, laced with Epicurean pleasure in hugs, snow, and music.

I observe a sense that the law, and in particular human rights legislation, is sacrosanct. After all, the first question asked what Nicholas felt entitled to, and the fact that he answered it as he did is instructive.

If we honestly think about it, we as human beings are entitled to nothing, whether God exists or not. This is especially true if we assume God does not exist, because at that point all we can claim to be entitled to is what we can hold on to until someone stronger, faster, or otherwise “bigger” comes to take it away from us. Appeals to common sense hold little sway in face of the “cruel” laws by which nature operates…and equally, not everyone recognizes things held to be commonly sensible.

But Nicholas feels entitled to these human rights all the same. At the same time, he has in the past argued that an entire category of human beings — the unborn — do not necessarily deserve the same comprehensive protection of their human rights. But for Nicholas, his being protected by those and other legal conventions is sacrosanct. It is his entitlement.

So I leave it here to the Reader: what, exactly, does Nicholas worship, even if not in a way that involves formal ritual?

You know, I am constantly amused by the way that atheists just seem to land on my doorstep. I realize that I tend to be pretty vocal in my criticisms of that particular philosophical conjecture/quasi-religion, but nevertheless I am still amused and the intermittent train of individuals who feel the need to stop in and say something.

I mean, really: if I am just a deluded theist, why not leave me to my delusions? Of what profit is it to debate with me, when the subject of debate is something that any atheist will state doesn’t even exist (i.e. a deity)? Why do atheists waste so much breath on the denial of this God in whom they most certainly do not believe, and whose existence they very readily deny. Why deny it at all? If, as Joel asserts, religious folks are akin to schizophrenics claiming that the dogs are talking to them, why bother to tell us that the dog’s voice isn’t real? Arguably, we can’t help it (being deluded) and probably won’t listen anyhow (being mentally ill).

For whatever reason, though, the poor dears feel the need to comment. Providing illustration to this observation, Nicholas had something else he wanted to add regarding my last response to him.

Let’s keep it simple: the old technology of signposts. We come to a fork in the road. One way leads to Edmonton, the other to Calgary. The signpost says right for Calgary. (And let’s also suppose that no local yobs are in the habit of turning signposts round.) Is it right for Calgary because the signpost says so? Or does the signpost point right because that’s the way to Calgary?

That, of course, is what Plato was getting at in your least favourite of the dialogues, Euthyphro. Is (for example) feeding the hungry good only because one or more gods are alleged to have said so, or are there reasons why feeding the hungry is good? If there are reasons, then we don’t need any gods as a basis for our moral choices. Note that this argument says nothing about the existence of one or many gods. It just says that the alleged guidance of one or more gods cannot be a moral basis for moral choices.

Moreover, the god YHWH was, in my opinion, according to the alleged records of its moral guidance, frequently grossly immoral. And many of the recorded sayings of Jesus are, in my opinion, also misleading moral guidance. Joseph Hoffman, for example, puts all that much better than I can. See http://www.spinozaslens.com/libet/articles/hoffmann_lettinggoofjesus.htm.

Nicholas demonstrates a very careless inattention, given his invocation of the tired Euthyphro argument. It was a good argument back in its day, when the dominant religion of the day was polytheistic and the notion of the love of the gods for what is “moral” was substantially more subjective given that different gods in the Greek Pantheon loved different things, often in ways which were contradictory. Euthyphro is more or less irrelevant in a monotheistic framework in which the internal contradictions of the Pantheon, on which the dilemma is so focused and dependent, simply do not exist.

Moreover, Nicholas is careless, O Reader, because he evidently didn’t bother to check and see if I’d had anything to say about Euthyphro buried in the archives. As it turns out, I’ve had a fair bit to say about the subject (see here and here, especially — moreover, see this and this by author Theodore Beale), and can confidently say that I’m not particularly worried at its implications to both my faith and my worldview.

The central question of the Euthyphro dilemma is, of course, Morality: is X moral because the gods love/command it, or to the gods love/command X because it is moral? Socrates had a field day with this. And to be fair, it kind of works within the context of the Pantheon (although, as Theodore Beale demonstrates at the above links, it can also be assailed and discredited purely from within that context), given that someone like Hera would be apt to love — and view as moral — different things than someone like Hades would. That’s fine.

Within the Christian context, however, the solution to the dilemma is a bit simpler: “yes.” Is something moral because God loves/commands it? Certainly. Does God love/command something because it is moral? Definitely. This works, principally, because God is the creator of all things (unlike, if memory serves, the various members of the Pantheon) — as the sole author of the whole of the Universe, God has created morality itself, and separated what is moral from what is not. This is both built into the fabric of creation and recorded as instructions, because humanity — empowered with free will — has need of both formal and natural revelation in coming to terms with, and in fostering its understanding of, God’s plan. That is why when we are taught, in the Bible, that marriage is the moral context for the use of the gift of sexuality, natural law and evidence from the world bear that conclusion out. There is a unity between what is taught and what is seen. God has both called us to moral living and made all the Universe in such a way that the living which He calls us to is moral.

To answer Nicholas more directly, however:

• Calgary is to the right.
• It is good to feed the hungry.

I trust the Reader notes what is going on? Nicholas is trying to sidetrack the discussion with dodges and pseudo-justifications, and in fact these are irrelevant. It is good to feed the hungry, plain and simple. Yes, Jesus commanded it, and obviously He did so because it was good. But equally, God (one in being with Christ in the Trinity) made humanity to be a social animal that values community and the well-being of members of the community; it is within our nature to care about the well-being of others. And so, both from within and without, what is moral is to feed the hungry.

As to the morality of God, I am not going to engage Nicholas in any substantive fashion, because we will end up talking past each other. I will agree that in the Old Testament there are a lot of times where we — merely human — might look askance at the recorded acts and commands of God and wonder at their correctness. Equally, however, we must remember that God does not see things as we do, and that if there is any truth to the “alleged records of its moral guidance” then there is also no chance at all that we mere humans will have any hope of comprehending the ways and means of the Almighty. Personally, I’m thankful for that, O Reader. For if God saw humanity as we humans tend to see it, I submit that He’d send us all into the pit of Hell with nary a second thought.

God is love, as Pope Benedict XVI recently reminded us in his encyclical Deus caritas est. And that is the first category we must employ when looking at the actions of God in Scripture. We may not be able to understand a particular action as one of love, of course, but whose shortcoming is that? God’s? Or ours?

Nicholas is, of course, welcome to dismiss as questionable the moral teachings of Jesus. Curiously, though, he simply states this as a matter of fact, providing no examples. I suspect that is because it is hard to argue that there exists any superior moral standpoint to “love your enemies.”

Finally, while the Hoffman article was interesting, it was also uncompelling (as, I have found, are most things that argue from the perspective of Jesus not being a historical figure). The fact that people doubt that Jesus was real doesn’t come as any surprise to me, given that a quarter of Britons think Churchill was a myth. I’d be willing to bet that over on this side of the Pond, more than a few people share that same thinking. And that should be instructive to us: large swathes of our society have relegated to the category of mythical a man whose accomplishments and shortcomings are well-documented, and who walked this Earth a mere sixty or so years ago. That people are weak-minded enough to similarly doubt the factual existence of historical figures that lived a thousand years ago, or two thousand, comes as no surprise, and is in fact to be expected.

Count Roland invokes Neil Postman’s classic work in his response to this article.

Neil Postman, in various books but especially Technopoly, makes a similar argument about technology and how it and ‘scientism‘ have become our civil Religion. One of my favourite anecdotes is the student who could not declare a room to be hot before consulting the thermostat.

Socrates said it 2500 years ago that writing would impoverish humanity, as it would lead to a weakening of memory. Maybe it has, but likely not since writing can help us discover and adapt beyond one man’s lifetime work. But the kernel of truth is that every technology we develop changes us, and not necessarily for the better. Our trust in technology and in ‘they’ is as irrational as the faith we hold, if secularist claims about religious faith are to be beleived (they are not), and more irrational than the actual faith claims and their rational justifications especially in light of the ends to which they are going. GPS may save time on a temporal shipment; our faith has the telos of our immortal souls and the eternal situation in which they end.

What is increasingly troubling is that the gap between those who know (in a full sense) the technology and those who use it is widening. For example, thirty years ago most men could fix their own cars — they were simple nough to understand — or at least know if the mechanic was being less than honest, but today most drivers can not fix many problems because cars have become more technical. Yet, we seem to be putting more trust in said technologies. Trusting more what one understands less of, as a society, is irrational insofar as it makes us more vulnerable to personal and corporate catastrophe — a broken car on a lonely highway in winter, a terrorist attack using a Tandy 3000 on our power network. That is the opposite thrust to what Christians strive to do — trust more as we understand more. Now, we can never fully understand God and a childlike (NOT childISH) faith is important, but a child’s most important question is ‘why?’ and we seek to find the answer to that question about God and about creation. Blind faith in what ‘they’ tell us is right is not mainstream Christianity. Mainstream Christianity is fides quearum intellectum — faith seeking understanding — and while we,in sin, can follow the wrong path, a sincere journey will eventually take us towards the Truth. Modern society’s faith in ‘they’ — usually scientists or media-political elites — is indicative of cult (in the contemporary sense) behaviour.

Chesterton was so right, but then again, aren’t we Christians just ignorant fools? Everyone is, but sometimes God graces us with wisdom — I suspect Chesterton would have told the two mothers to cut the child in half, too.

Roland hints at a rather curious thing — the underlying