Servile Conformist

Scholars Misbehaving: A Mormon Flavor (Part II).

Dr. Peterson begins to shift gears and now starts going on the offensive by offering a two pronged internal critique of secular and naturalistic worldviews:

 

Scholars Misbehaving: A Mormon Flavor (Part I).

Anyone involved in Mormon Studies is keenly aware just who Daniel C. Peterson is, a quick look at his publication history at the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship website shows a sustained effort in the area of Mormon Apologetics for two decades. Dr. Peterson is not merely limited to apologetics and faith promoting ventures however; he has also participated in the translation and publication of ancient philosophical texts under the auspices of the Maxwell Institute, a worthy contribution to a variety of fields covering History, Philosophy, and Near Eastern studies.

The industry of Mormon Apologetics rarely comes into contact with atheism or secularism, so when I came upon an essay written by Dr. Peterson entitled “Reflections on Secular Anti-Mormonism” that was published in the FARMS Review (2005), I was eager to read Dr. Peterson’s thoughts. Now it is important for me to mention that Dr. Peterson presented this essay that same year at a FAIR conference (Youtube video here and transcript here), because what I discovered both angered and disappointed me.

The essay itself isn’t enlightening, informative, nor entertaining, which is what disappointed me. Dr. Peterson’s criticisms of secular thought are shallow, but I found them largely unremarkable and seem to come straight out of the usual apologia-lite style of general Christian Apologetics like Lee Strobel or Norman Geisler. What had angered me was Dr. Peterson’s use (abuse really) of Albert Camus as a means to launch some of these criticisms.

 

Faith of the Gaps

I picked up a new book recently from my local used book store, by Alister McGrath and I came across this [1] startling passage:

The atheist believes that there is no God, but his position is a matter of faith rather than fact. He cannot prove beyond all reasonable doubt that God does not exist, just as the Christian cannot prove with total conviction that God does exist: Both are positions of faith.

I hate comments like this, I really do, and it pains me even more when a person with McGrath’s education makes it. This is not something a theologian should ever put into print.

I call this line of observation the “Faith of the Gaps” and it usually crops up when someone reflects on the disputations that go on between Atheists and Christians, and it usually comes from the Christian camp. I think it is a terrible mistake, it seems like Christians like McGrath are trying to level the playing field by attributing faith to the Atheist like faith is something to be ashamed of, or like faith some kind of concession of defeat for the Atheist.

In any case, McGrath makes some serious epistemological presumptions here without ever drawing his reader’s attention to them. First, he uses language that almost seems to suggest infallibilism when it comes to knowledge, but more charitably, I think he just intended a high level of justification, something akin to mathematical or very strong scientific proof, whatever belief does not reach this level of justification must cover the remaining distance with faith.

I was under the impression that faith (well placed, in any event) was a virtue within the body of Christ, and McGrath equates both positions as one of faith, but fails to make any sort of qualitative distinction between the faith in the risen Jesus Christ, the Living God and faith in the negation of the metaphysical position of Theism (and let’s be fair, that is all Atheism strictly entails).

From a biblical perspective, I would think that there is more to faith than mere intellectual assent to some body of propositions, but the intimacy with God reflected by both paragons of faith within the Hebrew Bible, Abraham and Job.

What is more troubling, if faith is to be a virtue and it operates as McGrath stated, then it would be more virtuous for a person to be less knowledgeable about sacred things, so the amount of their faith could increase. I’m sure that is not what McGrath intended with this passage, but it is a sad consequence of his own words.

 

 

　

[1]Studies in Doctrine, page 131 under ‘God and His Critics’, 1997 Zondervan Publishing.

 

 

 

Scholars Misbehaving: Dawkins

No matter how you feel about Richard Dawkins, you can’t deny he plays an important role in the contemporary public discourse about religion and that his book ‘The God Delusion’ (hereafter, TGD) is an important text to understanding that discourse.

Personally, I find Dawkins’ books about biological science to be wonderful. As someone who doesn’t have a great education in the physical sciences, I find him to be invaluable resource in that respect. Sadly, I cannot repeat that praise for TGD, even though it is arguable that TGD is his most important work.

Whenever the TGD comes up in conversation, I usually express my dislike for the book, which in turn, causes people to challenge me to articulate what I find wrong with TGD, so this (and other upcoming) blog posts is a result of that.

On page 2, in the Preface to TGD, Dawkins states the following:

“Perhaps you have been taught that philosophers and theologians have put forward good reasons to believe in God. If you think that, you might enjoy Chapter 3 on ‘Arguments for God’s existence’ - the arguments turn out to be spectacularly weak.”

Now this is a strong claim, one that I wouldn’t make. I may be an atheist and remain unconvinced by theistic arguments, but I would never judge them to be spectacularly weak. Also note he singles out both philosophers and theologians, which means Dawkins intends to engage the best arguments from the professionals.

The arguments addressed in chapter 3 are: Thomas Aquinas’ Five Ways, Ontological Argument, Argument from Beauty, Argument from personal experience, argument from scripture, Argument from admired religious scientists, Pascal’s Wager, Bayesian Arguments, the chapter is 32 pages long (77-109).

What immediately jumps out to me is the actual lack of modern arguments. For example, one of the most famous philosophers of religion is Richard Swinburne, who not only is a theist, is also a member of the Eastern Orthodox Church. He taught at Oxford from 1985 till 2002, a published highly influential books defending the coherence and rationality of theism.

What I don’t understand, is why Dawkins doesn’t deal directly with Richard Swinburne? He obviously knew of him, knew he’s a philosopher and a faithful Christian to boot. He mentions Swinburne in the next chapter concerning Divine Simplicity, so I don’t see any excuse to omit his work from Chapter 3. Dawkins’ oversight does a disservice to the atheist readers he seeks to inform, because he essentially leaves his fans completely defenseless to any theistic thinker who bothered to read the modern literature (or taught by an apologist what to say in response).

In The ‘Existence of God’, Swinburne readily admits that the variety of traditional arguments for God’s existence, when considered alone and deductively, are not sound. Swinburne’s strategy is to asses the arguments for theism along inductive lines, using two categories for assessment: First is a C-inductive argument, which raises the probability of a hypothesis, and P-inductive argument, which makes a hypothesis more probable than not. Swinburne then picks out several arguments that he feels make a good C-inductive arguments, and the conjunction of these arguments make for a P-inductive argument for theism.

Swinburne’s strategy has been in print since 1979, and what even frustrates me even more, is that the probability calculus that Swinburne employs is Bayes’ Theorem, which is the last thing Dawkins addresses in Chapter 3, but instead of dealing with Swinburne, Dawkins’ target is Stephen Unwin. So…ignore the Oxford Philosopher with a strong reputation and target a risk management consultant? Really?

Chapter 3 is such a painful read, for example, on page 106 Dawkins observes:

“But of course that final estimate can only be as good as the original numbers fed in. These are usually subjectively judged, with all the doubts that inevitably flow from that.”

Anyone who has spent anytime closely examining arguments for theism from actual scholars (and not  apologists), you become use to their unassuming and modest attitude. Swinburne takes into account  subjectivity of the various evidentiary values, and even makes honest concessions (on page 289, my copy of The Existence of God comes from the revised 91 edition):

“All this so far is very imprecise, but, as we have seen we just do not have the criteria for very precise estimation of probabilities in science or history or most other fields. However I now suggest that it is reasonable to come to the following qualitative judgment about the force of the evidence so far considered…Theism does not have a probability close either to 1 [100%] or 0 [0%], that is, on the evidence considered so far, theism is neither very probable nor very improbable. It does not have a probability close to 1 because it does not have predictive power.”

Swinburne doesn’t make any radical claims, like Unwin apparently does, and spills much ink in justifying his values, and that deserves a fair treatment, if not a close and detailed one.

Dawkins is a total let down:

 

The Khlysty

In his masterful biography of Rasputin, Edvard Radzinsky gives an account of the melding of Christianity with the traditional pagan religion of the Rus:

Christian churches in Russia were often built on pagan holy places. The pagan gods that the princes had forced the people to repudiate lived on unseen. The pagan god Volos, for example, whose untrammeled power was manifest, according to pagan beliefs, in the alternating fecundity and destruction of the natural world, was transformed into ‘God’s servant, Saint Vlasy the Miracle Worker’. The pagan god of thunder, Perun, was supplanted by the prophet Elijah who caused the storms to rumble. And the pagan delight in nature, the pagan worship and deification of nature, remained in the people’s souls. The alacrity with which they agreed after the revolution to destroy their own great Orthodox temples at behest of the Bolsheviks is strikingly similar to the ease with which they smashed and burned their pagan holy places at the order of the princes.

Entire regions lived through that thousand-year period in a blend of paganism and Orthodoxy. And the ancient sorcerers and saintly healers existed side by side, as well: the healers healed, and the sorcerers cast spells or warded them off.

Siberia and the Trans-Volga were the centers of that strange ‘Orthodoxy of the people’ (pages 34-35).

It’s always interesting to stumble upon global religions like Christianity or Islam melding with local religions to produce a unique expression of the parent faith that is not found in other regions (that isn‘t the product of missionary work). The United States has plenty of examples for me to choose from that range from Seventh Day Adventism, Latter Day Saints (Mormons), and the Nation of Islam immediately come to mind. In South America, one comes across an interesting blend of Roman Catholicism and strains of Yoruba. A Russian example would by the Khlysty (whips).

The Khlysty is a religious expression that is hard to get a hold of and understand, but the group started with Daniil Filippovich and Ivan Suslov, with Filippovich taking on the mantle of ’Lord of Hosts’ and Suslov being ‘Christ son’. In Khlysty tradtion, Suslov was crucified on (at?) the Spassky Gate not once, but twice, and arose from the dead both times, sometime hereafter Filippovich and Suslov returned to heaven, never to be seen again. During this ascent, the Holy Spirit comes to earth and reinstalls a new Christ within some more bodies.

The Khlysty had an odd notion of asceticism, that attempted to remove the sins from the flesh via abstaining and self mortification by beating themselves with whips. Radzinsky does note the following about the Khlysty:

…‘Rejoicing’, the principle Khlyst rite, derived from the pagan sorcerers and shamans; Khlyst ’rejoicing’ was merely the latest mixture of paganism and Christianity. It was during ‘rejoicing’, in the view of the Khlysty, that the Holy Spirit descended upon them. And then the members of the sect would try to conceive as many new ‘Christs’ and ‘Mothers of God’ as possible. That conceiving took place in a state of frenzy preceded by Khlyst dancing (page 40).

It is said that the Khlyst believe that when they sweat during such wild dancing and whirling (Sufi Whirling anyone?), they reproduce the same sweat Christ produced in the Garden of Gethsemane. Radzinsky himself witnessed ‘rejoicing’ and I think it’s worth producing a snippet of it here:

But at this point the old man stopped his whirling and cried out wildly, ’Brothers! Brothers! I feel it, the Holy Spirit! God is within me!’ And he began to prophesy, shouting incoherent sounds mixed into which were the words, ’Oh Spirit!’ ’Oh, God!’ ’Oh, Spirit Lord!’ After that began the main communal rite of ’rejoicing’, or general whirling and dancing (page 41).

Radzinsky didn’t see any wild orgies, but leads us to think that this didn’t happen because he was there. Reading this account, what immediately leaped to mind were examples of this kind of ‘Spirit Intoxication’ here in America:

 

I wonder what practitioners of these types of worship/ritual think of their actions from a more global view? Are they aware of far away groups with contradicting beliefs obtaining the same effects? If so, how do they contextualize their ritual in such a way that they feel confident that it’s the Holy Spirit present, but not at rival groups? Or is the Spirit present at both? I also how members of a very localized faith like Latter Day Saints or Seventh Day Adventists deal with the high level of ethnocentricity in their theology.

 

Reasonable Book, Basic Philosophy.

Reasonable Atheism: A Moral Case for Respectful Disbelief by Scott F. Aiken and Robert B. Talisse turned out to be a major disappointment for me, though that is no fault of the authors. This book is not intended for atheists or theists with a background in philosophy, but for folks whose entire working knowledge of the Atheist/Theist conflict comes from the best seller list in the NYT.

The first two chapters were very slow going for me, and probably the part of the book I least enjoyed. I think the authors took great pains to make the book readable and understandable to any high school educated person who happened across this book, and the result is something that reminds me of a introductory lecture where a Professor has to guide the class by the hand through the basics argumentation. The substance was not a problem for me, and I can hardly hold it against the authors for taking this approach, but I think potential readers should be aware that you might be covering a lot of ground that seems like common sense to you.

The commentary on the “New Atheists” is where the book begins to earn it’s keep. At several points I felt like clapping for the authors, as they made their case against the ‘New Atheist’ approach to dialogue, which is a combination of aggression and ignorance. Their finest example has to do with the Ontological argument, which was by far, my favorite part of the book, and how this argument is useful is gauging people’s understanding of the more complex issues involved. If you don’t understand the Ontological argument, and do not have a reasoned response to it, your atheism is more than likely to be poorly justified.

I must confess that my biggest disappointment with the book is the poor way in which the authors discussed Psalm 53. I can’t help but charge the authors here with blatant eisegesis. For example, on page 67 the authors state, “ The Psalmist affirms that those who deny God’s existence are fools. And fools, according to the Psalmist, are both morally and intellectually corrupt.” Checking my own various sources, I found plenty of biblical scholars who would disagree with the author’s interpretation. Now most commentary is actually going to be found in Psalm 14, which is nearly the same Psalm (in fact, all my sources referenced the reader from Psalm 53 to Psalm 14). My Oxford Annotated Bible (NRSV, 3^rd edition, page 785) states, “ Fool, a moral category, not an intellectual one. The fool denies not God’s existence, but divine governance of the world and attention to humankind.” I next checked a Jewish translation (Jewish Study Bible, Jewish Press Society, 2004) and their understanding of the passage is so different from the authors’ understanding that the beginning of the 1^st verse reads, “The benighted man thinks, ‘God does not care.’” (page 1269). The commentary discusses the Hebrew word ‘naval’ (translated as benighted) and the implications of the word is described as,” [benighted], is a very strong term that can carry moral overtones…”. I even turned to my “The Apologetics Study Bible (2007)” and consulted their commentary (page 800) on this passage and it read, “…the fool here (naval) is neither a simpleton nor an ignorant dullard, but instead is a practical atheist, His denial of God may not be overt, but in his heart he lives as if God does not exist.”

Now, the authors’ main points don’t rest on their faulty interpretation of Psalm 53, it is merely a lead in to their points about public perception of atheism and the perceived lack of morality, but I found it annoying and it colored the rest of my reading.

After dealing with the New Atheists, the book launches into the meat of things, and essentially recreates a survey course in ethics, raising classic objections to Divine Command theories (Euthyphro Dilemma) and introducing the reader to the various normative ethical theories that don’t rely on God. After laying that ground work, the book moves into contemporary politics, with an interesting “Moral Test” and the end.

All things considered, the book is solid (if a little boring) and I think the best description I could give of this book, is that if I had to teach a survey course on atheism, this would be my textbook. I have plenty of classmates who are fellow atheists and science majors who take their cues from the likes of Richard Dawkins and P.Z. Myers, whose tutelage leaves them with convoluted forms of naïve empiricism and physicalism, there is much they could learn from Aiken and Talisse.

I’ll end up giving my copy away, and I’m warning all armchair philosophers away, but this book is a perfect gift for people interested in the atheism/theism conflict, but uninitiated into the grand discipline of philosophy.

“The Rite: The Making of a Modern Exorcist” by Matt Baglio

“The Rite: The Making of a Modern Exorcist” by Matt Baglio is the story of Father Gary’s introduction, training, and eventual practice of the Catholic version of Exorcism, as told by journalist Matt Baglio. The book is worthwhile, but it might help others to know beforehand what this book covers and does not cover.

This book does not serve as a good introduction to what exorcist rituals are, and how they function from an anthropological or sociological function. The book also leaves out much of the biblical history that surrounds the topic, it would greatly enhance this book if the author had spent a few pages remarking about the fascinating and complex demonology that existed in the ancient Near East (and still does today). While the book quickly glosses over Jesus’ use of exorcisms, it fails to mention that there are contemporary Jewish accounts of exorcisms in Josephus’ “Jewish Antiquities” where a man named Eleazar extracts a demon through the nostrils of man in front of emperor Vespasian himself and the Talmud’s Hanina ben Dosa (himself from Galilee) who was reported to be widely feared by demons during that period. Also, few readers might find the book a bit too ethno-centric because it deals specifically with Roman Catholic exorcists.

Skeptics may be disappointed in this book’s perceived faithful narrative, because the author leaves the impression that he is a believing Roman Catholic (though I may be wrong). Baglio doesn’t ignore skepticism and does interview a few scientists who don’t believe in the phenomena of demonic possession or exorcism, but one can tell Baglio is nonplussed with them. The book does not blatantly assert that demons are a fact and that exorcisms with fantastical elements are truthful narratives, but simply ends with a, “Science can’t explain it all” and moves on.

The story is interesting and well written, moving along at a brisk pace and not getting bogged down in any unneeded detail, blatant ranting, or sanctimonious preaching. Father Gary and his Italian instructors are intriguing characters, and the Priest’s trials within the holy city give a remarkable glimpse at the culture found in the Vatican. It’s intriguing to see how Baglio portrays the Italian culture in Rome, making it out to be much more superstitious than I would have imagined, and how pervasive beliefs about Demons is. At times, it’s hard to take the narrative seriously, when Father Gary learns about curses and other bits and pieces of what I would consider “Roman Catholic Demonology”, because they seem a bit silly, like something you’d read in a bad fantasy story.

I enjoyed the book, and I was able to take a few useful things away from it, and I was glad that the book was not over the top like Martin Malachi’s work on demonic possession. I think most readers will be surprised on how the Roman Catholic Church conducts exorcisms, and I’m confident Roman Catholic readers will totally enjoy the faith promoting aspects, and the heavy emphasis on the sacraments and their role within the faith.

Inside Scientology: The Story of America’s Most Secretive Religion

I’ve just finished “Inside Scientology: The Story of America’s Most Secretive Religion” authored by Janet Reitman, and it compelled me to make a few comments in review.

First off the book is excellent, it’s incredibly hard to strive for objectivity when writing about new and controversial religious movements, but Reitman does a decent job. The book does present an overall negative picture of Scientology, but to her credit she does attempt to offer the Scientologist’s position even though the church does not offer much in way of it’s defense other than hyperbolic martyrdom. She does Scientology a favor, ending on a positive and upbeat note from some younger intelligent Scientologists who live and operate within mainstream society. This younger generation seems more aware of the serious issues and controversies that surround their faith (their faith in Hubbard could match any evangelical), and the observations and comments they make give the reader a sense of reassurance that Scientology isn’t totally made up of zealots, ready to live like slaves.

Reitman paints a very sympathetic picture of L. Ron Hubbard, that is reminiscent of Fawn Brodie’s treatment of Joseph Smith, and in a lot of ways, both men are a lot alike. It’s interesting to note how both Smith and Hubbard were both intensely bright and intelligent men, but for all intents and purposes, were complete outsiders to the fields they attempted to reform. Joseph was a complete neophyte when it came to Theology and pastoral studies, but he attempted a complete overhaul of the Christian Church by restoring the ancient church here in America. In a similar vein, Hubbard was also a complete neophyte when it came to the burgeoning field of Psychology and Psychiatry, but that didn’t stop him from try to sweep both away with his own system. Both men possessed a fierce charisma, that allowed them to not only disarm potential skeptics, but convince people of all walks of life that they were the real deal.

Although Reitman doesn’t explicitly state it, I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of sexual proclivities on Hubbard’s part with his followers. During the later stages of Hubbard’s career, he was surrounded by pretty young women who grew up nearly worshiping him, and instead of creating himself a harem, he treated the girls (and some boys) more like his own children. I should also mention that one of the more despicable shared characteristics between Hubbard and Smith is the way in which they treated their legal wives, with Hubbard more or less, abandoning his and letting her take a legal fall.

The most fascinating part for me was when Hubbard’s paranoia forced him into hiding, where he was totally secluded, except for just a few elect and trusted followers. The behind-the-scenes maneuvering from David Miscavige is eerily similar to how Stalin isolated Lenin, and wrestled control away from his rivals (poor Trotsky!) and even the way Miscavige purged the upper echelons of Scientology of the old guard is almost a photo copy from Stalin’s playbook.

The post-Hubbard age of Scientology is fraught with controversy and rapid expansion. I think the most eye-opening and disturbing aspect is the church’s use of legal litigation as a tool to bludgeon their enemies which is more than a little unsettling, given how deep the Church’s coffers are.

One downside of the book is it doesn’t give an in-depth review of the ins and outs of Scientology’s beliefs, Reitman does provide a basic foundation and tries to fill you in on the vocabulary, but I felt it left much to be desired. To make up for it, there is a solid bibliography in the back, which does point a reader in the right direction if they are left unsatisfied in a given area.

All said, I’d recommend this book to anyone interested in comparative religion, and people who like to study new religious movements.

Work is for distraction and not glory.

So I was having a brisk conversation with Jack Jeffries, and we were talking about our academic interests and it came up that I have zero interest in pursuing any career in the academy. This prompted her to ask, “ So what do you want to be when you grow up?” I thought my initial answer was unsatisfactory and I wanted to develop it more.

I think the anxiety most people get over their careers is just symptomatic of American culture, not necessarily a bad thing, but I think people get far too worked up over what their job is, and that merits some commentary and self reflection, after all, what is the first question we often ask people we first meet? “So…what do you do?”

Do what, exactly? Notice this type of question is aimed at discovering how someone earns their keep and pay their bills. I think it’s too easy to say this betrays some kind of obsession with money, but I think it’s just a little bit of an insult to assume that the most important or interesting thing we can learn about a person is how they earn money.

It’s funny how careers have become so wrapped up in the value of a person, and you can see this clearly as a college student. The various departments aggressively advertise the amount of money one can earn with the degrees they offer. Workshops and seminars abound in resume writing and networking via LinkedIn, and the walls covered in fliers advertising talks given by self made entrepreneurs, coupled with testimonies from passed students who’ve ‘made it’.

All this focus on the perceived utility of a degree has pushed many humanities departments into some small corner of the campus, where students like me get peppered with the age old question, “ Philosophy is your major? What are you going to do with that?” I hate that question, I really do. I’ve stopped answering it long ago and I have two stock answers that I like to give depending on the environment; “I plan on cooking meth in my basement” or “star in underground gay-for-pay porno films”.

I told Jack that I never do bother to think much about my future career anymore. I plan on distancing my self worth from what ever job I hold. A lesson I picked up on my last deployment to Iraq came from Voltaire’s Candide, towards the end of Candide’s long and strange journey, he asked the old Turkish farmer:

“You must have a vast and magnificent estate?” said Candide to the Turk. “I have only twenty acres,’ replied the Turk. “I cultivate them with my children; and work keeps at bay three great evils: boredom, vice and need.”

Soon after, when Candide and company have returned to their own farm, Martin, Dr, Pangloss, and Candide enter into a discussion of the Turk’s words when Dr.Pangloss remarks:

“You are right,” said Pangloss, “for when man was placed in the garden of Eden, he was placed there ut operaretur eum, to dress it and to keep it; which proves that man was not born for idleness.” “Let us work without theorizing,” said Martin; “’tis the only way to make life endurable.”

I don’t take such a bleak view as Candide and company above, but I think the Turk was on to something there. I think work (and thus, your job/career) should serve as a distraction to life. I think Alain de Botton in his charming little book said it better than the Turk:

Death is hard to keep in mind when there is work to be done: it seems not so much taboo as unlikely. Work does not by its nature permit us to do anything other than take it too seriously. It must destroy our sense of perspective, and we should be grateful to it for precisely that reason, for allowing us to mingle ourselves promiscuously with events, for letting us wear thoughts of our own death and destruction of our enterprises with beautiful lightness, as mere intellectual propositions, while we travel to Paris to sell engine oil (p.324).

That is why I’m taking degrees in Philosophy and Religious Studies, when I need to take regular breaks from the daunting task of contemplating my own death, or trying to discover and implant meaning into my existence, questions far more important than the size of my bank account or 401K. My material needs come at simple costs, my intellectual needs come at a much steeper price.