Francisco Ayala is a distinguished scientist and thinker, who left religious life to pursue science. His views on science and religion are worth hearing.
Kudos to Reason.TV for venturing beyond pure political philosophy and policy.
I can't help but take this opportunity to contrast the rather gentle Ayala with someone like Richard Dawkins, whose intellect I greatly respect, but not his manners. Ayala and Dawkins agree on some things in fact.
But one of Dawkins' greatest failings is toward his own stated objectives. He tries to accomplish several things with only one shotgun approach.
While he rightly challenges superstition and persecution of atheists with vigor, his own acid intolerance of religion and religious people undercuts the objective of his foundation, which is to "[s]upport the scientific education, critical thinking and evidence-based understanding of the natural world in the quest to overcome religious fundamentalism, superstition, intolerance and human suffering."
(Philosophical note: Dawkins goes beyond "methodological naturalism" which many scientists practice, including Ayala -- meaning not injecting God into a scientific inquiry ("creation science") so as to poison it -- to assert the non-existence of God. This is known as "metaphysical naturalism," and is not a scientific position, but a metaphysical one.)
Why should one embrace a life of science and reason if it means acting like Richard Dawkins all the time? He is not a model of reason himself. At least not in anything other than the classroom or laboratory practice of science. Where is the element of "humanity" and "meaning" in his approach? Is that part of reason? Scientific or otherwise? Perhaps, as Ayala notes, these are the purview of religion? Perish the thought . . .
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Monday, July 19, 2010
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Some Great Readings on the Problem of Evil
The New Atlantis has just posted a very interesting article from their latest issue about Charles Darwin's personal sensitivity to the problem of evil and suffering in nature, and how it influenced his views on evolution. It is entitled "Darwin's World of Pain and Wonder." Excellent. I recommend it highly.It calls to mind an excellent book I read on the same subject not long ago, entitled "Darwin's God" by Cornelius Hunter, about which I wrote some thoughts at the time.
Another very interesting article on evil I found via Wikipedia. It is by a Catholic theologian, explaining the theodicies, or defenses of God against evil and suffering, offered by Saints Augustine and Ireneaus. I found it interesting because it acknowledges how many puzzling issues remain for the believer even today. Of course, the author attempts to resolve some of those problems in his theory of "salvation." Which I will continue reading with interest.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Commentary on a Recent Viral Video Defense of Religion
Some of my Facebook friends are passing around the video below. It's an interesting defense of religious belief, going viral on the Internet. It's good to see that not only the atheists like social media.
The argument made by the young Albert Einstein in this video is one taken directly, although in less scientific form, from St. Augustine, its original author.
Simply put, evil is not "real" but rather the absence or "privation" of goodness.
Augustine made this argument against the Manicheans, who held that evil was an equal and opposing force to good. If so, Augustine reasoned, then man has no free will, being caught up simply in the war of two opposites. A convenient deterministic theory for escaping responsibility.
An elaboration of this argument is made in a modern context by author Jean Bethke Elshtain in a talk given at GooglePlex, entitled, "Harry Potter, St. Augustine and the Confrontation with Evil." In it, she elaborates on the idea of evil as a parasitic form of non-being, using the examples of the Nazis and Voldermort from Harry Potter." It's a very interesting talk, parts of which I show my philosophy students every year.
Interestingly in the first video, however, the young Einstein makes a "reductionist" argument against his instructor. He cites darkness as the absence of light, not a reality itself at the subatomic level. The same for cold, which is the absence of heat, which is subatomic activity.
However, if one were to rely on the subatomic level, what would we say about love? Is it a reality at that level, or something else?
There are risks to denying realities that man experiences at his own level. That is why Einstein's instructor is onto something, and why the argument for atheism persists. Because just like our experience of love, we experience cold, or darkness, or myriad other evils at our own, not the subatomic level.
I recently had a conversation with a friend about this very same point. And about my concerns with the limits of Augustine's argument.
I sometimes think Augustine's argument is stretched too far from its original purposes.
If one proposes that evil is a lack or privation, then it is merely a zero or non-being. There is nothing to see in it, only to ponder the mystery, as Ms. Elshtain does, of its parasitical nature.
But what if one looks at the myriad manifestations of evil in the world? The privations of so many goods, that yield so many different and disturbing forms of evil, at our human level, not the metaphysical or the subatomic.
This is the gist of the black comic points made in first video in the comic series "Mr. Deity," which I truly enjoy, even as it disturbs me greatly. The episode is entitled "Mr. Deity and the Evil."
God is questioned as to why he wants SO MANY evils. Now, one could argue that God simply wanted to create so many goods. And each good must, by God's own plan face its own potentially horrifying privation. Granted, privation is the absence of good. I've got that.
But at another level, you must consider the black comic point above. What the heck is the plan for history when there is so much evil that seems to be driving it? Just think of the Nazis, for example. Or child abuse. Or cancer. History is moved greatly by the reality of evil. Privation is everywhere. Pervasive.
Collectively, we are resilient in the face of it no doubt. But I do not believe, as I noted in a previous post, that one can dismiss an individual's being scandalized by the experience of it, as Michael Novak has done at times, as a "morose" concern with it.
I have no answer to the comic point raised above. Except to recall the point made by Aquinas in the Summa Theologica, which scandalized me in graduate school. (II-II, Q. 19, Article 11. "Whether Fear Remains in Heaven.")
Aquinas argued that even in a state of beatitude in Heaven, man would still feel fear of God. This entire passage is contained in a section on "The Gift of Fear" contained in a larger treatise on "Hope." (I think this section bears re-reading on my part, for sure.)
I don't think Aquinas would be willing to call God "dark." But when one considers the prominent role of evil and suffering in the world, and even the scandalous and almost fetishistic obsession among Christians with evil and suffering, one can't help but feel disturbed. By them, and by God's apparent "plan" for "sacred history," so-called.
Is it in any way inefficient? If so, what does that say about the nature of God?
It certainly disturbs atheists, especially when they read the gleeful way in which Christians were willing to see them in a state of eternal damnation for their annoying lack of faith. Today, we have far more empathy and understanding of our fellow man, and should reject co-dependency with them, for their and our own sake. And recognize that their concerns are our own.
The argument made by the young Albert Einstein in this video is one taken directly, although in less scientific form, from St. Augustine, its original author.
Simply put, evil is not "real" but rather the absence or "privation" of goodness.
Augustine made this argument against the Manicheans, who held that evil was an equal and opposing force to good. If so, Augustine reasoned, then man has no free will, being caught up simply in the war of two opposites. A convenient deterministic theory for escaping responsibility.
An elaboration of this argument is made in a modern context by author Jean Bethke Elshtain in a talk given at GooglePlex, entitled, "Harry Potter, St. Augustine and the Confrontation with Evil." In it, she elaborates on the idea of evil as a parasitic form of non-being, using the examples of the Nazis and Voldermort from Harry Potter." It's a very interesting talk, parts of which I show my philosophy students every year.
Interestingly in the first video, however, the young Einstein makes a "reductionist" argument against his instructor. He cites darkness as the absence of light, not a reality itself at the subatomic level. The same for cold, which is the absence of heat, which is subatomic activity.
However, if one were to rely on the subatomic level, what would we say about love? Is it a reality at that level, or something else?
There are risks to denying realities that man experiences at his own level. That is why Einstein's instructor is onto something, and why the argument for atheism persists. Because just like our experience of love, we experience cold, or darkness, or myriad other evils at our own, not the subatomic level.
I recently had a conversation with a friend about this very same point. And about my concerns with the limits of Augustine's argument.
I sometimes think Augustine's argument is stretched too far from its original purposes.
If one proposes that evil is a lack or privation, then it is merely a zero or non-being. There is nothing to see in it, only to ponder the mystery, as Ms. Elshtain does, of its parasitical nature.
But what if one looks at the myriad manifestations of evil in the world? The privations of so many goods, that yield so many different and disturbing forms of evil, at our human level, not the metaphysical or the subatomic.
This is the gist of the black comic points made in first video in the comic series "Mr. Deity," which I truly enjoy, even as it disturbs me greatly. The episode is entitled "Mr. Deity and the Evil."
God is questioned as to why he wants SO MANY evils. Now, one could argue that God simply wanted to create so many goods. And each good must, by God's own plan face its own potentially horrifying privation. Granted, privation is the absence of good. I've got that.
But at another level, you must consider the black comic point above. What the heck is the plan for history when there is so much evil that seems to be driving it? Just think of the Nazis, for example. Or child abuse. Or cancer. History is moved greatly by the reality of evil. Privation is everywhere. Pervasive.
Collectively, we are resilient in the face of it no doubt. But I do not believe, as I noted in a previous post, that one can dismiss an individual's being scandalized by the experience of it, as Michael Novak has done at times, as a "morose" concern with it.
I have no answer to the comic point raised above. Except to recall the point made by Aquinas in the Summa Theologica, which scandalized me in graduate school. (II-II, Q. 19, Article 11. "Whether Fear Remains in Heaven.")
Aquinas argued that even in a state of beatitude in Heaven, man would still feel fear of God. This entire passage is contained in a section on "The Gift of Fear" contained in a larger treatise on "Hope." (I think this section bears re-reading on my part, for sure.)
I don't think Aquinas would be willing to call God "dark." But when one considers the prominent role of evil and suffering in the world, and even the scandalous and almost fetishistic obsession among Christians with evil and suffering, one can't help but feel disturbed. By them, and by God's apparent "plan" for "sacred history," so-called.
Is it in any way inefficient? If so, what does that say about the nature of God?
It certainly disturbs atheists, especially when they read the gleeful way in which Christians were willing to see them in a state of eternal damnation for their annoying lack of faith. Today, we have far more empathy and understanding of our fellow man, and should reject co-dependency with them, for their and our own sake. And recognize that their concerns are our own.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Adding a Dark Layer to Prayer?
I can't explain exactly why, but I have had a hard time praying for quite some time. It's because my view of God is so much darker than before.I still hang on to the belief going back to the Book of Job that God's ways are not my ways. There seems no other way to explain it all, short of atheism.
But in the past I would have thought of God as an unknowing bull in the china shop of my life. He just goes about his business, never mind the damage. (That's a theologically unsound view by the way, even if it seems to explain life. Because God is supposed to be all knowing.)
Okay then. Add in my life experience (and inner doubts) and there is new dark context to this belief about God's ways. God's ways seem to do more than just ignore my ways. The all knowing being, I think now, must also surely know that He adds pain to my way. That "His ways" frustrate me sometimes. The he makes a mockery of my projecting myself into the future, simply because of what He "allows."
* * *
Lately, a thought has occurred to me about a new dimension that should be part of my prayer. I don't know why, since it seems masochistic. But, it seems when I pray for something in my life, I should meditate on all the people in the world suffering similar experiences to my own. And acknowledge that it would be manifestly unfair of me to expect any kind of relief when God allows, and has allowed for centuries, so many others to experience the same pains and losses without relief.
(Is God making this obvious to me, or is it Satan whispering it in my ear?)
The act of asking, considered in this light, is ridiculous. Why should I expect any help? I shouldn't.
And yet, I always do. Why?
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Obedience, or Abuse in Mother Theresa's Order?
Years ago I would have listened to this fascinating interview between John Batchelor and former Missionary of Charity Collette Livermore and thought she was obviously "proud" and under the influence of dark forces. (Download Hour 3 from the web page, and begin the podcast at 19:25 for the interview.)
Now, after years of my own struggles with the human dimensions of Catholicism in particular cultural forms, I see Livermore on a journey of painful inquiry much like my own, over what is proper for Roman Catholicism.
Livermore made a commitment as a young girl to help the poor by joining Mother Theresa's Missionaries of Charity in India. But she could not stay on, due to the pain the order's superiors inflicted upon her.
As she recounts in the above radio interview, and in greater detail in her new book, Hope Endures, her efforts to help the poor were attacked for bureaucratic reasons, and for authoritarian ones. Her motives were portrayed constantly as being more prideful than charitable.
No one can know for sure. Not even her superiors, by the way.
This woman, now a secular doctor, strikes me as sincere and of good will. She was clearly stunned by her superiors' constant guessing at and demeaning her motives. One gets the sense that in this environment, authority became a license to abuse.
It's not an uncommon story. Rarely do the humans who inhabit saints' religious orders share the "charism" of the founder. The question Livermore raises however, is did these abusive individuals do their acts of uncharity with the approval of Mother Theresa? Because Mother Theresa felt such humiliation was a refuge from the greater problem of doubt?
Better to live in uncertainty about your own worth, than God's worth in your life?
The question is briefly touched upon in the interview. But I sense from it that there is no definitive answer, only speculation.
I'll leave it to the Church to decide how this story affects Mother Theresa's case for sainthood. From my perspective however, the ability to live with doubt, questioning, even being scandalized by evil in the world and the inscrutable nature of the First Cause's universe is all part of the essential struggle of faith and reason. One almost gets used to it as the background noise of a life in pursuit of God.
I can't speak for the ultimate conclusions of Livermore's book, which I will have to read. But, this interview angers me, because I care about religion, and don't like the idea that unjustified, unverifiable, and ultimately codependent acts of humiliation would be used as an answer to doubt.
Now, after years of my own struggles with the human dimensions of Catholicism in particular cultural forms, I see Livermore on a journey of painful inquiry much like my own, over what is proper for Roman Catholicism.
Livermore made a commitment as a young girl to help the poor by joining Mother Theresa's Missionaries of Charity in India. But she could not stay on, due to the pain the order's superiors inflicted upon her.
As she recounts in the above radio interview, and in greater detail in her new book, Hope Endures, her efforts to help the poor were attacked for bureaucratic reasons, and for authoritarian ones. Her motives were portrayed constantly as being more prideful than charitable.
No one can know for sure. Not even her superiors, by the way.
This woman, now a secular doctor, strikes me as sincere and of good will. She was clearly stunned by her superiors' constant guessing at and demeaning her motives. One gets the sense that in this environment, authority became a license to abuse.
It's not an uncommon story. Rarely do the humans who inhabit saints' religious orders share the "charism" of the founder. The question Livermore raises however, is did these abusive individuals do their acts of uncharity with the approval of Mother Theresa? Because Mother Theresa felt such humiliation was a refuge from the greater problem of doubt?
Better to live in uncertainty about your own worth, than God's worth in your life?
The question is briefly touched upon in the interview. But I sense from it that there is no definitive answer, only speculation.
I'll leave it to the Church to decide how this story affects Mother Theresa's case for sainthood. From my perspective however, the ability to live with doubt, questioning, even being scandalized by evil in the world and the inscrutable nature of the First Cause's universe is all part of the essential struggle of faith and reason. One almost gets used to it as the background noise of a life in pursuit of God.
I can't speak for the ultimate conclusions of Livermore's book, which I will have to read. But, this interview angers me, because I care about religion, and don't like the idea that unjustified, unverifiable, and ultimately codependent acts of humiliation would be used as an answer to doubt.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Dueling Philosophical Movies
Following on dueling political documentaries by and against Michael Moore, now we see, dueling philosophical films?"The God Who Wasn't There." vs. "Expelled." A good thing? This marks an interesting trend. I suppose it is good to see more philosophical subject matter in the public square, as filmmaking has become more democratic.
My only concern, which I can see in the trailers for many of these films, is to latch on the most extreme example of theism and atheism, in censorship and hate. And the most codependent behaviors, to become codependent in turn.
What's the answer? I don't know. The marketplace must decide.
But each film pulls its audience in some way into reactive behavior against extreme opponents. That is a problem. Are boring university seminars the only answer?
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
On Supposedly Seeing Signs
Three times in the last two weeks friends have asked me whether I am going to return to stand up comedy. (For the record, I would like to. Just a matter, as always, of finding the time.)
When the second friend asked me, and I told her that she was the second person, she replied somewhat playfully, "See, it could be a sign."
I found myself surprised by my response, which was truthful, but so long as it remained publicly unspoken, more tentative: "I don't believe in signs anymore."
I have been pondering the implications of this, my belief, for some time now. (Note, this too, is a "belief.") A belief born of what I would call a personal backlash against my own pious self deceptions for many years.
Among these pious self deceptions: seeing signs about whom to date, what career to pursue, or even that my mother was not going to die of cancer at 48, as she did. (I saw signs for that on bumper stickers that happened to show up on cars at just the "right time." Her church friends saw other signs and gladly interpreted them for me both before and after her death.)
Does such a skeptical belief, born of dissatisfaction and sometimes even disgust with a particular culture's understanding of how God works in a particular time, and the wasted time it caused me, make me irreligious?
I would like to think not. I would like to think that I am looking for a more pure form of connection with the ultimate reality. And yet, I wonder, can one expect a pure intuition of the ultimate reality while living any kind of normal life? Is it really possible not to look for signs?
Maybe there are more pure "signs" than ambiguous bumper stickers seen at just the right time? For example, the beautiful face of a child. Is it a sign of God's love? Or, my persevering wife?
I have frequently wondered whether my new found semiotic deconstruction has a stopping point. Or, does it obliterate everything that is significant in my life -- everything that would mediate between me and the First Cause.
I have often wondered whether I can make decisions anymore, given this skepticism. Is any direction in life "important?" I have become deeply skeptical of having any "enthusiasms" about anything. This is very unlike what I used to be.
And yet, the strongest enthusiasm that I have is love. I shudder to think that I could part with the enthusiasm for my child. Yet, I shudder a little less to think that buying into the child as sign means I have to buy into the bumper sticker too.
Perhaps all signs that come forward to mediate must themselves be mediated and tested? But where does that stop (thank you, Charles Peirce), and what is to stop the self deception one would impose on any sign? Grace? (Which we often "discover" in signs.)
I don't know.
When the second friend asked me, and I told her that she was the second person, she replied somewhat playfully, "See, it could be a sign."
I found myself surprised by my response, which was truthful, but so long as it remained publicly unspoken, more tentative: "I don't believe in signs anymore."
I have been pondering the implications of this, my belief, for some time now. (Note, this too, is a "belief.") A belief born of what I would call a personal backlash against my own pious self deceptions for many years.
Among these pious self deceptions: seeing signs about whom to date, what career to pursue, or even that my mother was not going to die of cancer at 48, as she did. (I saw signs for that on bumper stickers that happened to show up on cars at just the "right time." Her church friends saw other signs and gladly interpreted them for me both before and after her death.)
Does such a skeptical belief, born of dissatisfaction and sometimes even disgust with a particular culture's understanding of how God works in a particular time, and the wasted time it caused me, make me irreligious?
I would like to think not. I would like to think that I am looking for a more pure form of connection with the ultimate reality. And yet, I wonder, can one expect a pure intuition of the ultimate reality while living any kind of normal life? Is it really possible not to look for signs?
Maybe there are more pure "signs" than ambiguous bumper stickers seen at just the right time? For example, the beautiful face of a child. Is it a sign of God's love? Or, my persevering wife?
I have frequently wondered whether my new found semiotic deconstruction has a stopping point. Or, does it obliterate everything that is significant in my life -- everything that would mediate between me and the First Cause.
I have often wondered whether I can make decisions anymore, given this skepticism. Is any direction in life "important?" I have become deeply skeptical of having any "enthusiasms" about anything. This is very unlike what I used to be.
And yet, the strongest enthusiasm that I have is love. I shudder to think that I could part with the enthusiasm for my child. Yet, I shudder a little less to think that buying into the child as sign means I have to buy into the bumper sticker too.
Perhaps all signs that come forward to mediate must themselves be mediated and tested? But where does that stop (thank you, Charles Peirce), and what is to stop the self deception one would impose on any sign? Grace? (Which we often "discover" in signs.)
I don't know.
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