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Reasoning to God – Heart – 1

Reasoning to God – Heart – 1


And one of the scribes came up and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that [Jesus] answered them well, asked him, “Which commandment is the most important of all?”  Jesus answered, “The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.  And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’

– Mark 12:28-30

Heart

I confess, my friend, that I would rather begin with the mind.  As the question – let us say, the doubt – of God’s existence first entered my mind, it afflicted my heart.  And it was by way of the mind that my heart was rescued.  I want to spring to the mind, and everything else can be a footnote.

Yet this saying of Jesus struck me.  To form my treatise on the words of Jesus himself as he gave the greatest commandment – it is all too fitting.  First, see:  The commandment is to love.  To love comes most naturally to the heart – even the unbelievers accept this.

Second, you once expressed disdain for the idea that anyone should love God above all, even above his own children.  But I hear these words of the Lord and they are solid as stone, capable of burying a man and of elevating him.  Let us see, then, what we can build upon them.

 

The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.   -Blaise Pascal

Indeed, I am too quick to brush past the heart.  

Think of your son and your daughters, for instance.  Now imagine a superintelligence, who knows reason and not the heart.  This mind presses upon you an argument which you cannot answer, which utterly compels you to abandon your children.  

It would not only be permissible to do so, for any reason at all; the argument actually demonstrates that it is the best possible action, that you must abandon your children, for their greater good.

The question is not, “Would you?”  The question is, “Would your heart object?”

Yes.  Yes, and the heart would rather be pulled up by its roots than consent to such an act.  Likewise say the martyrs.


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Reasoning to God – Heart – 2

Reasoning to God – Heart – 2


The Fear of the Lord

Not only fidelity, but wonder and awe resonate with the heart.

Consider:  Thunder and lightning are phenomena transmitted to the mind through the body.  Yet what are they, but light and sound?

Ask your heart, then – why do you tremble?  If you have ever had a bolt of lightning pierce the air around you so that it was simultaneous with the thunder; when you heard it roar above you, why then did you tremble?  

The cynic says, “Because it is a danger to my life,” and this is true.  But he thinks the answer stops there, short and thin.  He has answered a multiple choice question when we are looking for an essay.

Why does your life matter to you?  What is that primal drive to survive?  Why you, and your particular life?

In brief – we will have to be all too brief – when the lightning raises the hair on your arms and the thunder goes off like an explosion above you, you instantaneously recognize a force greater than you.  Impossibly greater, and unpredictable besides.  What creature does not fear them?  They warrant the word “awesome.”

There is no mind behind lightning, though.  It is a force driven by and subject to natural laws and forces.  Lightning does not strike even one inch askance from where Nature directs it.  Thunder is precisely as loud as she commands, no more or less.  

The power of God, though, is more terrible still.  With a word He could not only strike where He wills, or smite whatever He wishes; it is far worse than that.  That is the work of a minor god.  We are reckoning with the Almighty.

With a word, He could destroy planets, simply annihilate them as they fly across the night sky.  The least utterance and all the Universe would be in flames and extinguished; He could do it without any physical destruction, simply cease to think of us, and all would be lost.

The very memory of it, the notion of your existence or mine, tossed aside like a word that didn’t rhyme.  

And yet, as it is, you live.  Think soberly, brother:  You live.

If we tremble before the thunder and the lightning, what then should we do before God?


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Reasoning to God – Heart – 3

Reasoning to God – Heart – 3


Gratitude

Say you are stranded, and you do not have enough money for a taxi – not in cash and not in the bank.  Someone offers you a ride and brings you to your destination.  You cannot repay her, and she wouldn’t accept it anyway.

We do the math, and see that you are in debt to her:  You have received more from her than you were able to give her.  With the calculation complete, the mind is through.  Yet a sense of gratitude remains.

What, then, feels gratitude?  The heart.

Considering who God is, we see that He had no need ever to create us, and yet here we are.  We owe our creation to Him.

Moreover:  He sustains us at every moment.  We persist because He is thinking of us, is breathing life into us, even as I write and you read these words.  We are indebted to Him at every moment.

What is it, O man, that depends on your every breath, on your mere thinking of it?  Who lives and who dies when you cease to think of them?  Who is it that inhales when you exhale?

It’s not simply that we are short of funds; we could not, even in principle, repay God.  He made us; the converse is impossible.  He sustains us in existence; there is not one thing we could do to alter, add to, or threaten His existence.  

The cynic fights this, complains perhaps that existence is not always such a blessing.  One notices that he is still here, else we would not hear his complaint.  To be alive is greater than death, and any appearance to the contrary is a matter of psychology.  The opposite of existence is not negative, but no thing.

In other words, if we did not exist, we would be owed nothing, anyway.  Somehow, we have something.  It is the heart which allows us to feel gratitude for this.


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Reasoning to God – Heart – 4

Reasoning to God – Heart – 4


Desire

While the heart does not reason like the mind, it does convey interesting proofs.

It is seen, for example, that no one is ever absolutely, finally happy.  Indeed, we often think that one more possession, one more accomplishment, one more relationship, and then we will be happy.  It comes to pass; still we long for more.

Why is this?  Do fish seek happiness in this way, perpetually and without final satisfaction?  Why should we, if we are only another kind of animal, find ourselves seeking happiness voraciously, even enshrining the search for it into law?

If there is no ultimate answer for us, to satisfy this innate and universal desire, where does the desire come from?  Read a book – the characters are permitted to live happily ever after, satisfying their desire.  Play a game – there is an object, a way to win, satisfying the desire of the players.  

The heart, it is said, has a God-sized hole in it.  St. Augustine said, “Our hearts are restless, until they rest in You.”  C.S. Lewis said, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the only explanation is that I was made for another world.”

This is the proof of the heart, with which we are to love the Lord our God:  That our hearts desire endless satisfaction, that they are parched and thirsting for want of a drink which only “being itself” could quench.  Indeed, if we love anything else without loving Him, we will never be finally satisfied.


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Politics and Catholicism – 14

Politics and Catholicism – 14


Let us add a little depth to the metaphor.

The human being – and the human race, by expansion – possesses two drives which we in the modern world call “Progressive” and “Reactionary.”

Left and Right, or “To subdue the earth” and “To heed the natural order.”

Now, the metaphor is that of Cthulhu, swimming.  The current pulls everything to the right, toward the natural order, terminating in a sheer fall – certain death.  Therefore, Cthulhu swims left, to escape the turbulence and danger of the natural order.

The further he swims left, the less imminent the danger.  He might finally relax in the water, even become playful.  Yet, dangers still exist, and since he knows everything to the right becomes more threatening, he swims left.

And now the water is much calmer, still pulling but requiring very little effort to resist.  Cthulhu might begin to impose his own design on the river, building a place to be seated by the bank or small dams to break the water.  He will lose the exercise of those muscles which preserved him in the rapids, in favor of skills that enhance his pleasure and comfort in these less troubled waters.

New dangers await.  Stagnant water harbors bacteria.  His muscles have atrophied – if he wanders too far down river, he will surely drown.  Other creatures compete for food, and even as the apex predator he can be overwhelmed by a mass of them.  Moreover, there is an indescribable sense of discomfort, of not quite fitting in one’s environment, which the great beast cannot understand.  That, quite simply, is that he was made to rule in stronger waters, to challenge himself, to conquer mighty forces.

Proceeding left has always brought him pleasure and comfort – progress – and so he swims further left.

The metaphor can continue, but it will become complicated, even convoluted – if it has not already, for your tastes.  Let us look and see something.

There is a sense of melancholy about this metaphor, I think.  That is, Cthulhu – the complete body of a human society – is never finally satisfied and safe.  And someday he will die, his body carried along, ever more rapidly over the edge.

The human restlessness is such that it will want to challenge the rapids at times, but not for long.  Wanting for some activity to challenge his mind and body, imagining even that his survival still depends on it, man swims ever Left, requiring that he impose his will more and more completely on reality.

Somewhere up the river, he thinks, is Utopia.  Then he will be happy.

 

Now, “up” is correct, but the river is two-dimensional.  The way out of the river is not upstream, but up, out-of-stream.

If this seems like nonsense, or incredible, or the perfect answer – welcome to religion.  Religion is the pull of humanity up out of the river of this world.  It is the third dimension, which might elicit these varied responses from two-dimensional creatures.  One’s subjective response does not render it void.

Indeed, a properly ordered religion must position itself up, out of the river, and from that height throw down a rope.  If Cthulhu – a human society – will grab it, he will be saved both from the dangers of the Left and Right.  And it must be a strong rope, held up by a mighty arm.


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Politics and Catholicism – 13

Politics and Catholicism – 13


We come to some paradoxes then.

If leftism is subjugation of the earth – the drive toward civilization, away from natural order – then isn’t more leftism equivalent to more civilized institutions and behavior?

If rightism is respect for the natural order, then isn’t more rightism a drive toward primitive living, before industry, science, and all the rest?

They seem quite the opposite.

That is, conservatives seem to prefer everything that happened in America from 1776 through the 1950’s, give or take a few years.  Conservatives love ‘murica – liberals aren’t accused of that.

They prefer industry, they prefer making the most of all potent energy resources, they prefer capitalism and business, they prefer social traditions (very orderly, structured).

Liberals, for their part, are more closely associated with the back to earth movement, to doing what one feels, to giving the benefit of the doubt where certain practices go against the cultural grain.

They have been marching since the 1960’s, starting with the sexual revolution and gradually conquering the media, education, and politics.  In many cases, they have undone what existed, rather than build new institutions.  (Same-sex marriage is not a new institution – it is the loosening of an old one).

What gives?

If this big idea is correct about leftism and rightism, we have already alluded to the next layer:  Whatever leftism established a generation ago, rightism is now defending.  Whatever leftism is pushing, no one wished for a generation ago.

There is yet another layer.

In America there is a Christian tradition, one inextricable from its founding.  The Christian religion is properly ordered, so that it forms tight institutions, bright lines, and produces many goods on Earth.

For any progress to be made – and we are in the age of the Progressive – these institutions, this Christian grip on the structure of society, must be undone.  The work of leftism, in this case, is to erase whatever may be attributed to the natural order, or to God, in favor of what man might do for himself.

It is, indeed, a push to subdue the earth.  And men.

Meanwhile, modern rightism looks like a paradox, because it ought to be a drive toward the natural order – but it looks like a drive toward anachronistic technology and social structure, and filthy fossil fuels, and unjust wages.

Think of someone who is not conservative, if you want a true sense of rightism.  Think of a reactionary.

Here is someone who quite seriously would reinstitute a monarchy (with all of its quirks and flaws) and restrict the vote, and champion the formation of socio-economic classes because …

That is what happens in the natural order.  In nature, the fittest survive.  The powerful get what they want first, and the weak receive the crumbs.  If anything.

The natural order, you understand, is not about equality.  The liberal push for equality is necessarily a synthetic effort, because men are not equal.  And men are not equal to women in the natural order.  And no beast is equal to a human in the natural order…and so on.

 

The conservative is only defending what your forebears installed.  The reactionary looks at at fixed point further in the past, and identifies that as the true balance in human affairs.*

Christians will no doubt have observed something here:  Original sin is a move to the Left.  That is, the original disobedience of God was a play for power on the part of humans.  Humans wished to subdue reality, and know it.  Know it for what purpose?

“…then your eyes will be open, and ye will be as gods.”

It is enough to shudder.  But!

As punishment, God brought down the natural order on humanity – hard.  Women would suffer in childbirth, and man would raise produce only by the sweat of his brow.  And all would die.

Natural death is the far end of rightism.

So, it is correct to say that the Old Testament is story upon story of humanity in dissonance with the natural order, and suffering greatly because of it.  And God, by grace, and mercy and love, saving them.

The New Testament is widely seen – if not in these terms – as a move to the Left, and all of Christianity is sometimes mocked because of this transition.

But they should not spurn the transition so quickly.  By Christ’s sacrifice, God gave humanity an escape from the extreme Right, which was NOT the extreme Left.  It was neither, and both.  Step back and see:

If you were a two dimensional creature, how could we begin to explain the third dimension to you?  You would necessarily flatten all of our words and actions, so that you could understand them in your two dimensions.  We could not really explain it at all.

And you would be right, and wrong.  Mostly wrong.

That’s the role of Catholicism.  At its best, and its core, it says to all the world – “Yes, but none of this is quite right.  Look – you are going to live forever.  Forever.  Now, how does that change things here on Earth?”

It might make you more of a rightist.  And more of a leftist.

But mostly, it would make a resurrectionist, with your eyes cast above you, which neither the left nor the right can comprehend.

 

* And again, chronology is not critical in and of itself – it is something of a tape measure, to let us know how far left we’ve come.  The Reactionary might also push for things that are in the spirit of a monarchy, but have not ever existed.  In that sense, if he is successful, the Reactionary is looking toward the future, through the past.  Chronology is not strictly useful.


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Politics and Catholicism – Preface

Politics and Catholicism – Preface


My hope is that you have no idea what I’m about to say.

You may read the subject and leap to social issues in early 21st century America.  You might readily think about the Catholic vote, and the present turmoil, and it might skip across your mind that neither party’s nominee for President is Catholic.  You might be thinking about the separation of church and state, and the role clergy should and shouldn’t have in influencing voters.

Word association is such that I might have no idea what you are thinking.

At any rate, as genuinely entertaining and exhausting as the current election cycle has been, and as contentious as social issues are (bleeding even into economic issues), none of these are my immediate objects.  In medical parlance, I believe they are symptoms of underlying conditions.

So we’re about to get “meta,” to take a deeper dive beyond the turbulence and drama of the surface, with the hope of understanding what fundamental forces are at work.

Now, to parameters and conditions:

  • I concede that this is only my view.  Certain parts are drawn from others, because I find them convincing, but the synthesis of the whole (such as it is) is mine, and I am only a man thinking.
  • I welcome discussion, correction of facts, and so on.  The condition is that it is non-partisan as possible.  Imagine yourself arriving from the future, or from an alien race.  What do we find here?
  • None of this is likely to win you an election.  It’s not tactics, it’s not strategy – it’s a giant step back, to observe.
  • The initial Catholic character of this flows from the previous points:  We are in this world, but not of it.  The world is fallen, things are not as they were meant to be.  But all of this world is passing away (and we rejoice at that).  What, then, is such a pilgrim to do?

If you are discontent with the current state of politics, perhaps a deeper understanding will give you peace.  Peace does not sell, but it does satisfy.


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Politics and Religion

Politics and Religion


Found this in a group where I am more observer than participant…

“This political season has created a deeply painful crisis of faith for me. I’ve seen so-called Christian after Christian support the hateful policies of men like Trump and Cruz. I’ve seen my Christian friends, especially (but not exclusively) the white ones, grow more and more bigoted and intolerant. I’ve seen pastors and other faith leaders endorse a man that openly preaches hatred.

The day Falwell endorsed Trump was the last straw for me. I renounced the faith that day and haven’t considered myself a Christian since. But it hurts me profoundly.

What I always felt made Christianity real was the transformation of a person’s character catalyzed by the experience of God’s grace. I don’t see that anymore. I don’t see Jesus in most Christians any more. I just see people clinging to religion because they are afraid of hell, and then using that religion to condemn others to the hell they fear. This is not a religion of love. It is a cult of fear and I feel completely alienated from it.”

…and felt compelled to say something.

First, let us take this man in the best possible light.  This, to me, means that he was exaggerating when describing certain policies as “hateful,” that his notation of “white” Christians is ideological residue (after all, he also noted this wasn’t categorically true – so why mention it?), and that such word choices as “bigoted,” “hatred,” and “cult” are there for effect.

In other words, this is a rant, an emotive outburst.

 

Now, let us challenge some of his assumptions.

He refers to the “so-called Christian” who supports Cruz or Trump – but seems not to consider that both of those men are Christians, too.  I submit that this does not even enter his mind, but that he considers the Christianity of these men to be ploys to curry favor with voters.

Just what does it take to be a Christian?  And is this man the arbiter of Christianity?  Interesting that he would, ostensibly, be so much against discrimination, and yet discriminate as to what someone holds as his deep-seated belief.

(See – you never, ever escape the reality of discrimination.  It is a basic fact of the human condition.  You simply choose which forms of discrimination to participate in.)

The climax of his post, of course, is that he renounced Christianity after the political endorsement of a major Christian leader.  His assumption – I have to guess – is that Falwell’s endorsement made any difference at all to his own faith, or to Christianity in general, or to the Truth at all.

Would you renounce arithmetic if a mathematician endorsed Trump?  Would you renounce southern food if Paula Dean endorsed Trump?

Obviously not.  The connection is not tenuous; it is entirely imagined.  I am a Christian, and I could barely recall that Falwell endorsed Trump.  I have not renounced my Christian faith.

But it’s easy to get lost in the political rhetoric.  There’s a reason people can get jobs as pundits – the stuff is highly engrossing.  People watch on with great expectation, in astonishing numbers.

(Enough about Trump being a reality star, and that being disqualifying.  That fact is exactly why he’s so good at this.  He’s been training for it all of his public life.)

Our man does make one reasonably good assumption:  That Christianity is about the transformation of a person’s life by God’s grace.  (Though the ambiguity here confirms that he is not the best arbiter of a Christian’s sincerity).

Christianity is articulated in the Creed, and reduces to this:  The God of all creation came down to earth and was made flesh; He suffered and died for our sins; He rose again to new life, giving us the hope of an eternity in His presence.

Your life may be transformed by accepting this, and inviting God’s grace into your life.  It may also be that you continue to struggle, but your hope will empower you to endure the struggle.  You now believe that God will redeem even the worst of your suffering, and that does change things.

 

So where does that leave our guest?

He laments that Christianity has devolved into a kind of bludgeon, useful for the fearful, and that there is nothing left which resembles his expectation of the Church.  Indeed, his own act of renunciation, which accomplishes nothing relative to its catalysts, causes him pain, because he really did harbor the hope of Christ in his heart.  He thought that same light, the light of faith, might have had greater effect on the world around him, which he projects onto the world as a whole.

I would begin by telling him to turn off his television, unplug his computer.  But just before he does that, he should look into the persecution of Christians around the world.

American Christianity is not the entirety of Christianity.  It is only one sliver.  This is taken entirely for granted in the new Testament, as St. Paul addresses the Church in each location, and as the same happens in Revelation.  Christians in every time and place are going to have their particular virtues and vices, and the character of one is foolishly projected onto the character of the whole.

Then I would cut to the quick:  Where is your spine, man?

Do you follow the Truth as it is fashionable, as you have sufficient social approval for it?  Are your beliefs so deeply sincere when you are comfortable, then complicated and tenuous when you are distressed?  (This is about as good as we have for a Christian litmus test:  When circumstances become difficult, genuine Christian faith will grow stronger, not weaker).

Or is it only that you are being lumped in with the wrong kind of Christians, who support “hateful policies” and are ever fearful?

What a terrible reason to apostatize.  No, you find your courage and choose from two options.

One, you call yourself a different kind of Christian.  This is the Protestant option.

Two, you renew the Church, by the grace of God.  This is the Catholic option.

But to make an excuse for yourself, to relieve yourself of the burdens of faith because you can’t stomach the association with Christians of differing opinions, vices, and virtues – that is hateful.  That is bigoted, and as is the case with bigotry:  That is cowardly.

Lift yourself up, man.  Force yourself up off the ground, take stock of your surroundings.  God is abounding in mercy, so make a fresh start.

This time, return to Him with all your heart.


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Objective Morality – 3

Objective Morality – 3


In the last post, we distinguished between the concepts of moral ontology and epistemology.  I now propose a leap, and an illustration.  If you will make the leap with me, we will come back around and see how and why it is made.

I want to suggest that our knowledge of morality comes from a moral sense.

And the illustration:  This is a sense much like our other senses.  Sight, touch, hearing, taste, smell…and moral cognition.

How can we do this?  Consider one of the examples of an action I gave last time:

I walk down the street at 4.5 miles per hour.  Is this right or wrong, morally?

Well, is it right or wrong?  Naturally, the answer is that it is neither.  When we consider the mere act of walking at a normal speed, we do not detect any moral quality in this action, neither good nor ill.  This is a perfectly rational conclusion if we have a moral sense.

Now consider:

I walk down the street at 2 miles per hour, helping an elderly man to his car.

Is this morally good, or wrong?  Naturally, it is good – I have assisted someone in his frailty, so that he may avoid pain and suffering as the result of a fall.  Here, we detect some quality of the action which was not present in the first example, which we judge to be “good.”

In the same way, our eyes detect light.  We can discern between a brighter room and a darker room, even between wavelengths in the spectrum of light, because of our vision.  A person who is blind has no such ability, of course.   The room may be brilliantly lit, or the lights may be off, and our blind friend would not have the first idea which it was.

These senses both deliver knowledge to us.  Our eyes deliver knowledge which no other sense can deliver, and without which we would have no concept of light; and it is just so with the moral sense.  None of our other senses or faculties could deliver moral knowledge, and without that sense, we would be toward morality like the blind man is toward light.

Good so far?

Now let’s turn the thing over and look at it another way, which will advance our study.  Consider that, if there were no such thing as light, we could not make any sense of our eyes.  The very reality of light is a pre-requisite for vision to exist, much less to comport with our experience of having eyes.  There wouldn’t be any eyes, one imagines.

Light, then, is an objective reality.  It is something which exists independent of us, independent of our thoughts and feelings about it.  And we might even distinguish between visual ontology and visual epistemology.

Visual ontology would be the study of light itself, the existence and foundation of light.  (One may want to know why light exists at all, or if it was necessary for light to exist in any possible Universe).

Visual epistemology would be the study of our understanding of light.  We start from our senses, which deliver immediate knowledge about light (maybe it’s bright, or green, or distant), and we apply our other faculties (namely, our reason) to advance our knowledge (red-shifts in the stars, the wave-particle nature of light, the wavelengths of the different colors).

We want to say something similar about morality.  Most of the time, we wrestle with moral epistemology:  What is the right thing to do here?  How should a person conduct her life?  What general principles may we follow, and how can we sharpen our understanding of them?

Yet all of our moral deliberations rest on that which we examine less frequently – that is, moral ontology.  And just as our vision is grounded by the reality of light, our morality must also be grounded by some objective reality.

This objective reality has, across the world and over the centuries, been referred to as “the good.”

Next time, we’ll examine the folly of rejecting objective morality (and why so few do it).  Then we’ll begin to examine our options regarding this good upon which our morality rests.


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Objective Morality – 4

Objective Morality – 4


Our approach so far has been fairly catechetical – we’re building a foundation of knowledge about morality.  Let us apply some of that knowledge, and have a little fun besides.

Generally speaking, atheists break themselves off into a few different groups with respect to morality.*

First, one has the intelligent, reflective atheist – here is one who recognizes that something needs to be said about morality, who further realizes it is not a matter of proving that individual atheists can be good people.  He wants to maintain that objective morality is real, and he’s trying to figure out how.  For him, I have respect.

Second, one has the intelligent, reflective atheist who concedes there can be no objective morality without God.  One finds an example in Nietzsche, among others.  The intellectual integrity of such people, I respect; their prescriptions for human behavior cause me to tremble.

Third, you have your atheist who declares that belief in God is not necessary to be good, because…well, look at him, the atheist.  He’s a good person!  Plus, evolution.  Here is one who is confused and proud of it, and we will deal with him later.

Fourth, you have your atheist who both denies objective morality, then tells you how terrible Christians are.  And God.  God is the worst.  But seriously, if Christians would just stop doing X, Y, and Z, they’d be good people, too, and everyone would be better off.

 

Let’s have fun with the fourth atheist.  Bearing in mind our illustration from last time, consider this:

Imagine you are in a dark room with a blind man.  You know that you have sight, and you know that light exists, but at the moment you can’t see any.

You come to find out – because he told you so – that this man does not believe in the existence of light.  In fact, he used to have vision, but when he realized that light was just an illusion, he blotted out his own eyes, so that he would not get confused about whether there was any light.

This seems rather drastic to you, but he is strangely proud of the fact.  So proud that he wants to convince you that there is no such thing as light, too.

 

Blind man:  Well yes, of course there’s no light.

You:  Uh…

Blind man:  Oh, you’ve been duped, too?  Not completely your fault; your parents probably taught you there’s such a thing as light.  Well, we now know there is no such thing.

You:  Why do you think that?

Blind man:  Light is an illusion!  Go ahead – prove to me that light exists.

You:  But you’re blind.

Blind man:  No, I see perfectly that there is no light!  Can’t prove it, then?

You:  Well- I mean, you just see light.  That’s how you know it’s there.  It’s obvious.

Blind man:  Ah, but Science has shown us that this is just an illusion, just as I’ve been telling you.  You only think you can see light because you have not been enlightened yet.

 

You let some time pass.  How did you end up in this room, anyway?  Maybe there’s a door here somewhere…

 

Blind man:  Excuse me, could you step to the side, please?

You:  I’m sorry?

Blind man:  Yes, could you step to the side?  I can’t see.

You:  (speechless)

Blind man:  Well?

You:  Listen, that doesn’t even make sense.

Blind man:  You’re a Christian, I bet.  Still believe in bronze-aged myths and a sky daddy?

You:  What does that-

Blind man:  Look, your body is opaque, you can’t help that, and for the most part you’ve stayed out of my line of sight.  But now your shadows are kinda bothering me.  If you would just take one step to the side, I would be grateful, and I think we’d get along splendidly.

You:  (Well, what would you say?)

 

This is just the sort of absurd thing our fourth atheist is doing.  He wants to deny there is objective morality (in the story, “light”), and finds some irrelevant way to dismiss it.  How could you prove to him that there is objective morality if, when you point to it, he dismisses it as an illusion?

That’s one thing.  To say there is no objective morality is to say that there is no moral difference between genocide and mowing the lawn.  Some people swallow that pill, and they usually experience bottomless despair as a result.

But our rather stupid fourth atheist goes one further, as he is wont to do.**

He now has the unmitigated temerity to correct your morality, though he denies objective morality.  He thinks that if Christians would just give a little ground on, say, abortion, that would be a step in the right direction.  Then they would be better people, morally.

This is just absurd, and beyond absurd.  It is like denying there is such a thing as light – effectively declaring oneself blind, unable to see because there is nothing to see – and then being critical of someone else’s shadows.

There is no expression of incredulity, not even the Internet classic “WTF?”, which would address this criticism with adequate disdain.  One is rightly moved to violence; and rightly restrictive of the impulse.  After all, there is such a thing as objective morality.

And don’t forget…he is the enlightened one.  Best to leave him alone, in the company of his only intellectual peer.

 

*This is how I have fun, anyway.  Oh, that?  Of course one may have fun with atheists!

**If the allusion is missed, it should not be lost.  Also, this seems to be a quintessential demonstration of stupidity, and I intend the word precisely, not as mere mud-slinging.


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