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This post differs from many others on this blog in that I am going to base it on my settled belief in the God of the Bible, and not try to make an argument this time in favor of that belief. In other words, you will agree with this or not based on your existing beliefs regarding God and the Bible. Or maybe, just maybe, by seeing how one atheist treats morality, some skeptics, agnostics, or atheists will come to recognize that to deny the God of the Bible is to take up a seriously untenable view of life.

In comments following my post on The Basis for Moral Realism, doctor(logic) has persistently stuck with his opinion that morality must be evaluated and regarding strictly in terms of one’s feelings. You can pick up that line of his starting about here.

As Thomas Reid wisely pointed out,

A feeling is a temporary state of sensory, subjective experience. It has different properties than a belief. It is not possible for a feeling to be true or false (my “happiness” is not false).

So we see that a feeling is not a belief, and therefore it is impossible for one to have a feeling of a moral proposition. This is not to say that feelings cannot have beliefs as their causual antecedents, of course.

Nevertheless, we cannot deny that there are propositions that can be attached to feelings. “I feel good,” or “Seeing people hurt makes me sad” are both propositions about feelings. But these are statements about self. So when doctor(logic) insists that all moral opinions and evaluations are feelings statements, he is saying that all moral opinions and evaluations are made with reference to self. Moral opinions are not about acts, he would say; they are about my reactions to acts.

doctor(logic) confirmed this by saying,

What do I mean when I say morality is subjective? I mean that if I draw a line around the mugger and his victim, morality is nowhere to be found there. But if I draw the line around you (as observer), the mugger and his victim, then morality is objectively in your preferences. It will be an objective fact that you will disapprove or feel bad about the mugging you are observing. However, the immorality will not be in the mugging itself.

Is mugging good? No, it’s not good. Is mugging bad? No, it’s not bad either. It’s neither, in itself. But you may disapprove or feel bad about it. That’s what morality is, to doctor(logic).

Even from a simply ethical perspective, this has a nasty, putrid, awful smell to it. It literally makes morality all about one’s preferences. It makes me my own king of morality. It is idol-worship of the worst kind, for it is self-worship, putting self in the place where all good and evil is decided, the place that is rightfully God’s.

On this view I can—or must, for I cannot avoid it—set up my own moral system over and against God’s. Quoting from doctor(logic) again:

Look, let’s suppose Horace is a rapist. He likes raping for lots of reasons, including the feeling of power he gets. He thinks that girls who dress in revealing clothes deserve it. He’s integrated his rape behavior into his personal identity. Jesus comes along and says that rape is objectively evil. If Horace believes Jesus is real, tells the truth, and is an authority on morality, wouldn’t Horace then be in some sort of conflict?

Which is followed by,

To Horace, God is subjectively evil, even if he believed God was objectively good.

doctor(logic) thinks Horace’s view is to be taken as equivalent to God’s. The next paragraph says,

If my space ship approaches yours, and relatively, our ships are inverted, I could say you were subjectively upside down. If the universe had an objective “up” direction, we might agree that you were right-side-up, but you would still be subjectively upside down to me.

Space ship 1 or space ship 2, neither has authority over the other. Horace or God, neither (says dl) has authority over the other.

Idolatry always leads to corruption. The form of corruption that comes from this particular idolatry, making oneself king over one’s own morality, is not just that one might decide to do anything, and call it right. It is not just that every person can be right in his or her own eyes. It is both of these. But it also entails the plainly unethical view that morality is whatever suits me best. What could be more obviously wrong than that?

This is the characteristic idolatry of our generation. It is the idolatry that at this point is likely astonished that I would state the matter so bluntly and negatively, and would fault me for doing so. But if I am wrong and these idolaters are right, then there is no fault in my act, just as there is no fault in mugging. The only charge they can bring against me is, “That made me feel bad! If you make me feel bad, then you’re an awful person!” My answer to that is, I do not glory in making others feel bad. I do not like to do it. But I do not accept feelings as ruling sovereignly over what is actually true, and sometimes idolatry must be confronted for what it is.

Moral relativism is idolatry. Those who do not know that God is the only God may not recognize the malodorous nature of this idolatry, but those who do know God in this way must realize that it is a stench in his nostrils.

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Dallas Willard, professor of philosophy at the University of Southern California, asks this question in his excellent book Hearing God: Developing a Conversational Relationship With God:

How does a life in which one speaks the creative word of God differ from a life of voodoo, magic, and superstition?

Here is part of his answer (the section begins on page 137):

The word magic in this context refers to … the attempt to influence the actual course of events, as distinct from their appearance, by manipulation of symbolisms or special substances such as effigies and incantations….

Magic and witchcraft … are forms of superstition. They work from belief that some action, substance or circumstance not logically or naturally (or even supernaturally) related to a certain course of events does nonetheless influence the outcome of those events if “correctly” approached. Prayer and speaking with God must be carefully distinguished from superstition.

The word superstition is derived from words that mean “to stand over,” as one might stand in wonder or amazement over something incomprehensible…. Martin Buber rightly says that “magic desires to obtain its effects without entering into relation, and practices its tricks in the void,” the void of ignorance and selfish obsession.

Superstition, then, is belief in magic; and magic relies on alleged causal influences that are not actually mediated through the natures of the things involved. Suppose, for example, someone ways they can throw you into great pain or even kill you by mutilating a doll-like effigy of you…. It is superstition or magic, for there is no real connection between someone’s sticking a pin in a doll and your feeling pain….

In our faith we do not believe that the power concerned resides in the words used or in the rituals taken by themselves. If we did, we would indeed be engaged in superstitious practices. Instead we regard the words and actions simply as ways ordained in the nature of things as established by God for accomplishing the matter in question. They work as part of life in the kingdom of God. They enlist the personal agencies of that kingdom to achieve the ends at their disposal and are not mere tools by which we engineer our desired result. We are under authority, not in control….

It is the very nature of the material universe to be subject generally to the word of an all-present, all-powerful, all-knowing divine mind.

Three times in this excerpt Willard refers to the natures of things:

  • Magic is not real because its “alleged causal influences are not actually mediated through the natures of the things involved.”
  • Christian prayer (or speaking with spiritual authority, the real subject of this chapter) has its effect by working in concert with “ways ordained in the nature of things as established by God.”
  • “It is the very nature of the material universe to be subject generally to the word of an all-present, all-powerful, all-knowing divine mind.

Although one specific recent controversy over the term “magic” has been resolved, this passage from Willard helpfully speaks to a larger question regarding the supernatural. Atheists generally consider belief in the supernatural to be not just wrong; to them it is mindlessness or idiocy. In one of the ellipses (omitted passages) of the above passage, Willard tells how Mark Twain’s Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur’s Court was able to get the superstitious Old Englanders to believe he had magical powers, when he was in fact working by natural methods known to 19th century science. Christians, according to the naturalists (this was not Willard’s point) are gullible in the same way, imagining there is more to the universe than the natural course of events, and misattributing natural effects to unnatural causes.

The consistent, supernaturalist theistic position is that supernatural causes and events actually are natural, though not in the sense of being susceptible to study by science or occurring within some closed system of matter, energy, natural law, and chance. They are natural in the sense that they involve the universe and its parts acting according to their natures; where the nature of everything is to be “subject to the word of an all-present, all-powerful, all-knowing divine mind.”

Whether using the term “magic” or the more acceptable “supernatural,” naturalistically-inclined atheists typically consider it risible that Christians believe in a “fairy-tale” view of reality. But it’s far from clear to me what’s ridiculous or even odd about this, if we view the supernatural and the natural as intertwined, all of it together subject to the word of God. It fits logically; it works; it’s not incoherent. Of course it is a strange, unfamiliar viewpoint for the mind trained to see nature (matter, energy, law, and chance) as a closed system. But what if it’s that training that’s confused? Is that not at least logically possible? If so, then it’s also logically possible that to mock supernaturalism might be to display one’s own confusion regarding the true nature of reality. And it might also be that this very confusion is what causes some to miss what’s really there.

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The first debate at Discussion Grounds hit an unfortunate impasse very early on, and has unfortunately come to an end, I’m sad to say.

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My debate with Luke Muehlhauser at Discussion Grounds has taken a detour to the question of whether Christianity is the belief in an “invisible magical friend who grants wishes.” Luke affirmed that in comments here, here, here, here, here, and here. I responded in my Letter 15 yesterday, and we have each added another letter since. I don’t know if we’ll be able to come to agreement even on this basic point, but if that’s the position he thinks we’re debating over, then we haven’t even agreed on the topic of the conversation.

Here in this post I want to pull out of the essentially defensive posture I’ve been in there, responding to and explaining the distortions of that depiction. Luke says it is possible to make a kind of case for each term in that description being true, and in a sense he’s not entirely wrong in that, but only in a stunted sense that badly misses the majesty of God and the glory of being in relationship with him. It fails to see God’s sovereign greatness, as told for example in Isaiah 40:10-41, including,

10 Behold, the Lord God comes with might,
and his arm rules for him;
behold, his reward is with him,
and his recompense before him.

11 He will tend his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms;
he will carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead those that are with young.

12 Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand
and marked off the heavens with a span,
enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure
and weighed the mountains in scales
and the hills in a balance?

13 Who has measured [7] the Spirit of the Lord,
or what man shows him his counsel?

14 Whom did he consult,
and who made him understand?
Who taught him the path of justice,
and taught him knowledge,
and showed him the way of understanding?

15 Behold, the nations are like a drop from a bucket,
and are accounted as the dust on the scales;
behold, he takes up the coastlands like fine dust.

Is this a wish-granting invisible magical friend? No, this is the almighty Creator, yet the one who gently loves his people. It’s almost paradoxical, isn’t it? And that in itself gets to the heart of what’s wrong with Luke’s formulation of what Christians believe. It’s too simple, too one-dimensional, too lacking in multi-faceted interest and reality. There are religions that do believe in wish-granting invisible spirits, but I’m not aware of any for which the term “friend” would be included as it is for Christians’ view of God (in a decidedly non-equal sense). And those wish-granting spirit religions do not have the centuries of intense theological and philosophical exploration that Christianity has behind it.

Atheists and skeptics must recognize this at least.

  1. Christianity has been thought through at enormous length and depth, from every possible position of agreement, disagreement, and partial agreement. It has been tested from within and without.
  2. No completely thoughtless or trivial worldview could stand up to centuries of that kind of testing and remain viable to large numbers of people, especially large numbers of very thoughtful people.
  3. Christianity remains viable to large numbers of people, especially large numbers of very thoughtful people (evidenced here, for example).
  4. Christianity is not accurately regarded as a thoughtless or trivial worldview.
  5. To trivialize Christianity is therefore to distort it.

Psalm 42:1-6 shows paradox again:

1 As a deer pants for flowing streams,
so pants my soul for you, O God.

2 My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?

3 My tears have been my food
day and night,
while they say to me all the day long,
“Where is your God?”

4 These things I remember,
as I pour out my soul:
how I would go with the throng
and lead them in procession to the house of God
with glad shouts and songs of praise,
a multitude keeping festival.

5 Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation 6 and my God.

Where is “wish-granting” here? Where is magic? It’s not to be found. Instead there is a man seeking fellowship with God, while God seems distant and is in a certain sense invisible. In the entire context and scope of psalms like this, though (which I do not have space to treat here), there is growth, the development of a mature person who relates to God and to the world in a mature sense, not in a fairy-tale fashion. Life is often hard, and God is not always visible, but God is always there.

I recall my experiences with disease (when I was about Luke’s age I spent 69 days in the hospital one summer), earthquakes, hurricanes (especially Isabel), intense conflicts with bosses, intense conflicts with other powerful people, the death of family members, and other times of pain and loss. God was not always “visible” in each moment, but in retrospect he was clearly there, guarding my life and my heart, and building my character and my faith in him. “Wishes” were not often granted, though prayers were often answered: especially the prayer that I would draw close to God and experience his life and love; and that he would guide my future direction through the experience.

Is Christianity a believe in an invisible magical friend who grants wishes? No, it is far better, far more difficult, far richer, far more painful, far more loving, far more mysterious and wondering, than that simple formulation begins to touch upon.

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Bill Maher has just been granted the Richard Dawkins award:

The Richard Dawkins Award will be given every year to honor an outstanding atheist whose contributions raise public awareness of the nontheist life stance; who through writings, media, the arts, film, and/or the stage advocates increased scientific knowledge; who through work or by example teaches acceptance of the nontheist philosophy; and whose public posture mirrors the uncompromising nontheist life stance of Dr. Richard Dawkins.

Readers probably know about Maher’s anti-religious opinions. Not all may know about his views on medical science. You can find out about it over at Orac’s blog. Orac is no great friend of religion, but he doesn’t think too highly of Maher’s advocacy for increased scientific knowledge:

True, it’s only one criteria out of three, but Maher violates it by not just a little. In fact, he flagrantly, joyously violates it–nay, shreds it!–with science-free conspiracy mongering rants against the flu vaccine, big pharma, and a Tweet a few days ago (screenshot above) saying, “If u get a swine flu shot ur an idiot.”

Which is all accurate. It’s a strange choice, to say the least. Is Dawkins really pro-science? Is this good evidence thereof?

There’s some strange stuff going on among skeptics and atheism, strange enough to labeled even by NPR as a “bitter rift.” Things are not all friendly in the no-God camp.

Hat Tips: Catholic and Enjoying It, The Point, and Discovery.org.

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Just published at BreakPoint: God and Science Do Mix, beginning,

In a Wall Street Journal opinion piece that is replete with unintended irony, cosmologist Lawrence Krauss says, “Science and God Don’t Mix.”

With all due respect for a man who has contributed significantly to what we know about the universe, on this point Krauss is wrong…

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I was thinking of writing a response to Sam Harris’s recent bleat against Francis Collins. Collins, a world-class researcher, is also a medical doctor to whom my family owes considerable gratitude; when he was actually practicing medicine years ago, he treated one of our family members. But that’s not why I would want to respond to Sam Harris. It’s because there’s so much that needs to be said.

David Heddle beat me to it with all the best responses. Still I think there’s more to be said about this part of what David wrote:

Science more or less dispenses with all criteria except number one. Science is a meritocracy, one of the few true meritocracies. What has always been relevant in science is: what is the quality of your work? and, to a lesser extent, what is the volume of your work?

We have to bear in mind that the NIH position is not just a scientific position but an administrative/leadership/policy/science position. Does Francis Collins’s Christianity hinder his fulfilling any of the extra-scientific aspects of the job? Part of the answer we can settle quickly. Collins was a Christian when he led the Human Genome project, which was an administrative/leadership/science position. He did a not-too-shabby bit of work there, so based on his resume we ought to allow that he knows how to do those parts of the job.

That leaves policy. (He dealt with policy in the Human Genome Project, too, according to a talk I have heard him give on it, but not at the level he would at the NIH.) This is where Sam Harris might be able to bring a charge that could stick, if he could show that Francis Collins’s Christianity would lead him to adopt some irrational, un-ungodly policy with respect to science in America. So now I’m re-reading Harris’s article to see what kind of policy dangers Collins might pose to the Western world as NIH head. Harris begins with considerable bluster against faith and reason coinciding, but that can’t be it, because clearly he can’t charge Collins with being a poor scientist. Also, as David Heddle points out, there’s an empirical question there that Harris et al. have conveniently ignored:

I have repeatedly asked, on some enormously popular websites such as Myers’s own Pharyngula, for someone, anyone, to demonstrate the science/faith incompatibility charge. The people making this claim are supposed to be scientists or at least scientifically literate. They should understand that a hypothesis that cannot lend itself to testing is inherently unscientific. As many of you know, I proposed a test: I would provide ten peer-reviewed scientific papers, five from believers and five from unbelievers. If the charge that religion and science are incompatible is more than just words, we can posit that it should be possible to detect which papers are polluted by the author’s religion. No one has ever accepted the challenge.

Harris’s major complaint with respect to Collins’s science is that Collins believes God had a part in the process of evolution: he is a theistic evolutionist (though he prefers a different term for it that escapes me at the moment). If there were a scientific test that could empirically disprove theistic evolution, Harris might have a point. But there isn’t one. So this is not a complaint about Collins’s science after all. It’s a complaint about Collins’s religion, masquerading as a concern about his science.

The same goes for this that Harris wrote after quoting some of Collins’s Christian beliefs:

Is it really so difficult to perceive a conflict between Collins’ science and his religion?

It’s not that at all that Collins fails as a scientist, just that there’s something about his religion that poses a problem. Harris compares Collins with James Watson whose career was “defenestrated” (thrown out the window) when he made a stupid remark about race. At least he is candid here about it being a political issue, not a scientific one. Racial bigotry is a real political liability, as it should be. Harris thinks faith in God ought to be an political liability at the same level as racial bigotry.

We’ll come back to that point at the end. Meanwhile I continue to look through Harris’s article for any other policy-related deficiency in Francis Collins. He describes Collins’s conversion experience, and finds that Collins is lacking in good sense or reason. For example:

Collins’ ignorance of world religion is prodigious. For instance, he regularly repeats the Christian talking point about Jesus being the only person in human history who ever claimed to be God (as though this would render the opinions of an uneducated carpenter of the 1st century especially credible). Collins seems oblivious to the fact that saints, yogis, charlatans, and schizophrenics by the thousands claim to be God at this very moment, and it has always been thus. Forty years ago, a very unprepossessing Charles Manson convinced a rather large band of misfits in the San Fernando Valley that he was both God and Jesus

Harris’s ignorance of Jesus among world religious leaders is prodigious. Only Jesus made his claim from within the context of the most monotheistic culture ever to rise, bar the two (Christianity and Islam) that followed in its path. When yogis or “saints” (not Christian saints, obviously) make claims of deity, they’re not making the same claim Jesus made. When charlatans or Charles Manson made the claim, it was obvious they were fakes or madmen. Neither of those is obvious or even credible in the case of Jesus Christ: fakes and madmen do not launch movements that last for millenia and produce the kind of good that Christianity has done. They do not teach with the wisdom Jesus taught. They do not exhibit the humility Jesus did, or make the sacrifice that he made. They do not rise from the dead, either.

Intending to put Collins’s rationality on the rotisserie, Harris continues to skewer himself instead:

It should be obvious that if a frozen waterfall can confirm the specific tenets of Christianity, anything can confirm anything.

It should be obvious that was not what Collins claimed the waterfall did for him. It was just a moment that contributed to his developing view of God, along with many other factors. Harris misrepresented him badly, arguing in obvious bad faith. He is calling Collins irrational, but his proof thereof is seriously lacking.

Does Harris have anything better to offer? The next part of his article might be more promising. This quote begins with Collins’s words, followed by Harris’s response:

As believers, you are right to hold fast to the concept of God as Creator; you are right to hold fast to the truths of the Bible; you are right to hold fast to the conclusion that science offers no answers to the most pressing questions of human existence; and you are right to hold fast to the certainty that the claims of atheistic materialism must be steadfastly resisted…. (Collins, 2006, p.178)

God, who is not limited to space and time, created the universe and established natural laws that govern it. Seeking to populate this otherwise sterile universe with living creatures, God chose the elegant mechanism of evolution to create microbes, plants, and animals of all sorts. Most remarkably, God intentionally chose the same mechanism to give rise to special creatures who would have intelligence, a knowledge of right and wrong, free will, and a desire to seek fellowship with Him. He also knew these creatures would ultimately choose to disobey the Moral Law. (Ibid, p. 200-201)

Imagine: the year is 2006; half of the American population believes that the universe is 6,000 years old; our president had just used his first veto to block federal funding for the most promising medical research on religious grounds; and one of the foremost scientists in the land had that to say, straight from the heart (if not the brain).

First of all, Harris is wrong about “the most promising medical research.” Embryonic stem cells’ medical success has been overwhelmingly negative, while adult or other stem cell research has been quite fruitful. Second, Harris is aghast at Collins’s conclusion that some questions cannot be answered by science. But Collins is right: some questions can’t be answered by science. Does Harris not know that? What really sets him off, though, is that Collins supplies a Christian-based answer to some of those questions.

He scoffs at Collins’s approval of certain religious thinkers, including John Polkinghorne, also a scientist himself. Harris says of Polkinghorne,

The problem, however, is that it is impossible to differentiate his writing on religion—which now fills an entire shelf of books—from an extraordinarily patient Sokal-style hoax [link added].

No, Mr. Harris. Maybe you can’t tell the two apart, but what does that signify? I couldn’t tell a mathematically-intense physics article from a Sokal hoax because I don’t know the field. But I don’t point at all mathematically-intense physics articles and call them nonsense. That would just highlight how huge is my ignorance: not only that I don’t know the field, but that I don’t know that I don’t know the field. If you can’t tell Polkinghorne’s theology from nonsense, it’s because (as you’ve already demonstrated), you don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you know that you don’t know?

So where we on our search for a policy-related deficiency in Francis Collins? Harris didn’t do too well in showing that Collins lacks reasoning ability. He complained about Collins’s belief that some questions can’t be answered by science, but Collins is simply right about that. All of Harris’s anti-Christian opinionating is marred by his patent ignorance (or is it willful misrepresentation?) of the faith. So let’s keep looking.

Again he refers to Collins’s beliefs and responds,

How many scientific laws would be violated by such a scheme? One is tempted to say “all of them.”

Here, though, he wanders out of science into metaphysics with the word “law.” Sure, there are regularities in science. I have an article coming soon on BreakPoint explaining why this is completely compatible with the Christian view of God. To assume that regularities are unbreakable laws, however, is to move beyond what science can prove and into metaphysical thinking. It is not scientific to refer to “scientific laws” in that sense.

So here we have Harris’s metaphysics pitted against Collins’s religious beliefs. Which position disqualifies a person as a spokesman/leader for science? Is it not the one that is so confused it cannot tell the difference between science and metaphysics?

I could go on, but the same kind of thing appears in Harris’s article over and over again. Let’s put the matter to rest: Harris has no good scientific reason to think Collins is unqualified to lead in a policy position. He does a very poor job of making his case that Collins’s rationality is suspect. He gets nowhere at all in proving that Collins’s faith contradicts science. What does he have left? Nothing but this: Collins is the wrong religion. Harris is calling for him to be excluded from a senior Federal government position because he fails a religious test. What do we call this? Bigotry? Unconstitutional? A denial of America’s first and most basic freedom? All of those certainly.

David Heddle said this, too:

Harris hates Christianity. When it cannot be ignored, he goes on the offensive.

We could also call it hatred.

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