Dr. Lisle presents his objective from the start: To present the Ultimate Proof of Creation. He properly acknowledges that his ultimate proof won’t convince everyone, but argues that his proof will be “conclusive – one for which no rational refutation is possible…” I like this start. He sets his bar for proof explicitly so that there will be no moving goalposts. One flaw in his reasoning and the result is failure. I like this because he sets his challenge and plans to live up to it. Well done.

Lisle states that his proof can be stated in a single sentence, but he doesn’t present it just yet, because we need to “… lay a little groundwork…” Also a good idea. Agree on terms, set evidential standards, etc. He also, admirably, makes it clear that he is not defending a vague deist concept, but that he is defending the “… Christian faith – emphasizing the defense of the Genesis account of creation.” He explains that not only will he provide the ultimate proof, he will provide a method for refuting atheist or anti-Christian arguments.

Next, he prepares his readers for the tone and methods of the book. This is an appropriate use of an introduction, but I’m going to skip over it to keep things moving. Of course he’ll address all of those things again in the body of the text.

As I agreed was a good idea, he starts by defining some terms. “’Evolution’ will be used to indicate the natural method by which life allegedly came about and diversified into all the organisms we see today.” Some may argue that a strict definition of evolution does not include the origin of life, relegating that to the study of abiogenesis, but I’m okay working from this broader definition. “By ‘creation’ we mean the description of the origin of the universe and life on earth as described in the Book of Genesis and as reinforced and clarified in other scriptures.”

Next we have a summary outline of the book:

Chapter 1: Some evidences of creation, but not the Ultimate Proof yet. He says these are still useful to be familiar with. I’m actually going to skip over Chapter 1 and save it for last (or near last). The actual subject of the book is better described in Chapters 2 through 5, so I’m going to start there in order to address the author’s message before getting sidetracked. I’m unclear why he ordered the book this way. I think it would have been better to discuss such topics at the end.

Chapter 2: Describes the concept of worldviews and what makes a good one. Will introduce the ultimate proof.

Chapter 3: Explains why the Biblical account of creation “… must be true.”

Chapter 4: Presents ways to respond to arguments against the Biblical account of creation.

Chapter 5: Lisle will present a method for proving and defending the Biblical account of creation against objections.

Chapter 6: How to properly use scientific evidence to defend the Biblical account of creation.

Chapter 7: A discussion about logic and common logical fallacies.

Chapter 8: More logic discussion, especially deduction.

Chapter 9: Other topics, including, “… a discussion of the necessity of the infallible standard, the nature of circular reasoning, the nature of faith, and others.”

Chapter 10: The Bible: It’s guidance for defending Christianity and creation.

Appendices: Examples of the ultimate proof in action.

At the end is one endnote stating that the ultimate proof will not support a specific date of creation, but that the world’s age is somewhere in the four or five digits, rather than the age many believe to be held by the consensus of scientists in the relevant fields, which is in the billions.

For me, no arguments here. This is a fine description of the book other than the one minor argument that I’m happy to concede (the one about the definition of evolution). I’ll bring up the introduction later if it’s relevant to an argument presented in the body of the book, but those instances will probably be limited.

Next, I’ll dive into chapter 2, “The Nature of Evidence”. Note that above I mention why I’m skipping Chapter 1. I’ll address it later.

Until then!

I Googled bible verses about prayer. The first link I clicked went to Faithgateway.com, where the author listed 20 Bible Verses about Prayer. The list included several about how to pray and several that assert that God hears your prayers, but I was struck by some of the verses omitted from the list. A simpler list derived by keywords rather than compiled by the author reminded me of some verses that I heard repeatedly as a child, but that seem to have lost some of their popularity.

Here are a couple of the verses presented at Faithgateway.com:

• This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. ─ 1 John 5:14
• Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  ─ Philippians 4:6-7

The verses are categorized by topic as well. Here are the categories:

• God hears our prayers
• Lay your requests before God
• How to pray
• Jesus’s example
• Confession and forgiveness
• Give praise to God
• Pray for peace and for our leaders

The verses that were omitted were the ones about answering prayers. Here are the ones not on the Faithgateway.com article that I recall being very popular in Sunday school:

• And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. – John 14:13
• Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. – Mark 11:24
• If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you. – Luke 17:6
• Most assuredly I say to you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there, ’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you. – Matthew 17:20

We have had many tests of prayers. People have asked for things and they have happened, people have asked for things and they have not happened, and people have asked for things and something to varying degrees similar to their requests have happened at some time in the future. In response to these tests, Christians have concluded that God has three responses to prayers: Yes, no, and wait.

That pretty much covers every conceivable observation of occurrences consequent to one’s prayer. For the prayers listed at Faithgateway.com, thts conclusion about prayer are consistent, but for those that I heard as a child, this conclusion is inconsistent. We’ve observed reality and determined that certain verses, those that do not make claims about God’s response to prayers, represent what we can conclude about prayer. Those that claim that God’s response is predictable have conveniently been omitted from lists about prayer, at least those lists that are designed for broad, discerning audiences that are likely to compare the claims with reality. The Christians that I know will rarely make a prediction about how God will answer your particular prayer.

Contrast this “yes, no, wait” position on God’s response to prayer to the Christian convictions about salvation. There are disagreements among denominations about how one attains salvation, but while most moderate or progressive denominations appear to me to claim no knowledge about how God will respond to prayers, each, again in my experience, asserts with some confidence that they can know what it takes for God to give salvation (aka, eternity in heaven).

Ask a modern Christian what it takes to obtain salvation and they’ll salivate at the opportunity to answer it for you. Their answers may differ between claims about simply accepting Jesus (most common), being a good person (I hear this more often from hardcore progressives), or accepting Jesus while doing good works or living in some Christian manner (I find this relatively uncommon). There are a few other positions on salvation, like universalism and positions about not committing apostasy.

Whatever their position on salvation, Christians are happy to provide you with their assertion about what is required. Rarely do I hear a Christian say, “You can accept Jesus but there’s a possibility that if you don’t tithe you’ll end up in hell; I don’t really have any idea what God might decide,” or, “You can ask God to come into your life and save your soul but he might say no; God works in mysterious ways.” Instead I hear, “Accept Jesus into your heart and you will be saved.”

And this brings us to testable hypotheses. Any testable hypothesis about God is generally discarded for one good reason: it fails. God will give you the power to move mountains? No, while that’s clearly what it said, it must not mean that in context. God will give you what you ask for? Nope, you must be reading it wrong. You can pray and the world will keep spinning and something will occur? Now you’re talking! I’ll wager a bet on that!

Salvation has a trump card over prayer because it doesn’t have to be shifted into the realm of the untestable. It’s already there! So this is my difficulty with all of religion’s (not just Christianity’s) claims. When the rubber hits the road, there’s nothing there in reality but a bunch of fuzzy cause and effect relationships that, if you squint your eyes and blur the scene enough, seem like evidence of God, but aren’t very good evidence, and that are contradicted by a myriad of other occurrences in reality. Good hypotheses about how the world works are the ones that make

predictions and, under scrutiny, hold up. Many, many claims have achieved that, and those that haven’t have been discarded. Why can’t we hold religious claims to the same standard?

predictions and, under scrutiny, hold up. Many, many claims have achieved that, and those that haven’t have been discarded. Why can’t we hold religious claims to the same standard?

After writing this I noticed that JT Eberhart also contributed a response on his blog. It takes a different tack, but of course I like it: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/wwjtd/2014/12/if-you-dont-believe-in-god-why-do-you-care-if-i-pray/

The last place I encountered this was on a Facebook post by a family member. Perhaps it was directed at one person somewhere, but it was presented to everyone. And perhaps it was a rhetorical question, but I’ll take it as an honest inquiry for which they were requesting responses. Like many questions we atheists here from believers, this one falls under a category similar to PRATT (Previously Refuted A Thousand Times), even though it’s not so much a claim to refute as a question to be addressed. While there’s no doubt all atheists will continue to respond to this question until the end of time, it’s helpful for me to blog it so that a record exists where I and others (at least those who agree with my response) can refer people the next time we’re asked. While it can be aggravating at first to argue with such bumper sticker questions that oversimplify a line of discussion almost to the point that one cannot respond to it, I think there’s value in recognizing that many people see these questions as drop-the-mic-and-walk-away convincing, triumphant statements. I also don’t think they’re being dishonest; I think they’re making an honest inquiry to which they would appreciate an answer. For those reasons I think it’s worthwhile to respond.

I have several responses to this particular question of why do I care if you pray to God. I’ll try to categorize my responses into the short answer, the longer answer, and the complicated answer.

Why do I care if you pray to God? The short answer: I don’t.

You pray at church, you pray at home, you pray at the restaurant booth next to me, you pray on the bus, you pray on the sidewalk, you pray in your car, you even pray quietly in my house before you eat while I, at worst, go on about whatever my activities are or, at best, sit quietly and virtually reverently while you carry out your ritual. At your house, I listen while you pray out loud before those meals. Your house, your rules, doesn’t bother me.

This particular inquiry posted on Facebook was from a family member. I love this family member like I love all of my family, partly because they’re my family and partly because they’re wonderful people. I suppose there are some things that my family could do that could make me stop loving them, but they would have to be pretty atrocious. Praying is not even in the same solar system as those activities and, in my opinion, has pretty much no bearing on whether you are a good person or not. I don’t know that I could say with any certainty that praying has a net negative result. My only concerns with your prayer are articulated in the third section and they’re up for debate. So for the most part, pray away. I don’t care. My wife prays. Just ask her how much it upsets me.

Why do I care if you pray to God? The longer answer: I don’t… for the most part.

The longer answer is the same as the short answer above with a few caveats. There are circumstances in which I might care, like if you are a government body or official and you utilize your government position or the government time to endorse a religion or to pressure, ostracize, or “out” people who don’t share your religious beliefs or who have no religious beliefs. The same pretty much goes for employers. Many people don’t share the majority religious position, but don’t want it to be known what their private beliefs are. If you hold a prayer at the start of a City Council meeting, you could negatively impact people of minority beliefs easily. You could make them feel that they are not represented, or you could influence their impressionable children using government time to share your religion (granted there usually aren’t many kids at City Council meetings, but just change the scenario to a school and the argument becomes more significant).

Often overlooked as a negative impact in government or employer lead prayer is the “outing” effect. If a member of a minority religion doesn’t feel like sharing their religious belief with others, then they’re left with the undesirable choice of bowing to someone else’s god or unwillingly sharing their religious disagreement with others.

Basically, in government, school, and employment, there’s no need to engage in these activities in a manner publicly endorsed by officials in order to carry out the bodies’ duties, so why not leave prayer as an individual activity instead of using it to endorse a religious belief through supposedly pluralistic establishments? Besides, such is the suggestion of Jesus himself when in Matthew 6:5-6, he says, “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”

Why do I care if you pray to God? The complicated answer: I don’t… for the most part… but let’s talk about it anyway.

As Matt Dillahunty likes to say, “I care about beliefs because beliefs inform your actions.” For this reason, he also says, “I want to hold as many true beliefs and as few false beliefs as possible.” This is because accurate beliefs about cause and effect relationships within our world help us to predict the consequences of our actions and decisions. Thinking that God will answer prayers, that God has plans, that God wants things from you, all introduce a hypothesis of the behavior of the universe that is undemonstrated to say the least.

There may be some value in accepting that humans, no matter how flawed we are, are the only thing we can look to to make the world better, at least insofar as we can focus our efforts on the people around us and the one world we have to inhabit. There’s no doubt in my mind that belief in God and an afterlife can heavily persuade us toward two dangerous positions: (1) that God will somehow make the world better if enough of us follow him and (2) if he doesn’t make it better, then it was in his plan to let it go and he’ll take the believers to a better place anyway. As long as the world can make it a few more foreseeable generations so that all of your known family gets to join you, it doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. If you’re wrong about that and you become complacent about the world and the next 10,000 possible generations because of your belief, then a lot of people have a lot to lose for it. As Ayn Rand (generally one of my least favorite people) appropriately stated, “We can ignore reality all we want, but we cannot ignore the consequences of ignoring reality.”

On the other hand, prayer and belief in God can give you comfort. I don’t doubt that for a moment either. When you lose a loved one, there’s little that can give you any comfort like the idea that you may see them again someday. That comfort is worth something, but it comes with the price of misjudging the mechanics of the universe, which can reasonably be expected to have some noticeable consequences. Sam Harris asks what price we are willing to pay for such comfort?

I wish to hold true beliefs. I don’t know for certain that God exists, but until that existence is demonstrated sufficiently, I don’t include God in any of my models about the cause and effect of our actions. Is that worth the loss of some comfort? Sometimes I’ll probably say it’s not, because sometimes the world is a little more difficult when you realize it may not end with everyone living in bliss for eternity, but I recognize that our odds of having the best possible existence for ourselves and future generations likely lie in recognizing reality and doing our best with it. Reality is the option I choose.

Of course, this position of mine toward prayer and beliefs can only be correct if your God does not exist. If I have misjudged the reality of God’s existence because of evidence that I have ignored or misunderstood, then I’m wrong and you’re right, and I would hope I would come (back) around to your position as a believer. But you asked why I care and now you have my answer.

You’ve heard the phrase or something similar: “I only have to answer to God.” It’s usually uttered by someone who’s made a morally questionable decision. In some cases they made a good decision that others view as bad, and in some cases they’ve done something morally egregious but don’t want to admit that they were wrong. Often it’s a rhetorical statement made dishonestly in an effort to avoid a difficult or unwinnable argument. But it carries some weight with a lot of people, whether they’re saying it themselves and honestly believing it to be true, or they’re hearing it from another person.

There are significant differences between answering to God and answering to people. For one, you have to live in the world with people. Acknowledging wrongdoing to people is difficult. You have to look them in the eye sometimes, and you have to face them after the apology, knowing that they can never really forget your error even if they offer forgiveness. Also, you take a chance with your credibility if you have to admit wrongdoing too many times. Sometimes doubling down is tempting if you fear that you’re on thin ice already. Despite what we like to say, people can’t really love you unconditionally. Lastly, answering to people doesn’t only mean apologizing, sometimes it means defending your actions. And people may not always agree with your position.

Compare that with answering to God. You don’t roll over in bed and see God’s face, or go to work and have to stop by the water cooler and chat with God. You don’t have to remember your guilt every subsequent time you talk to God, and you definitely don’t have to look him in the eye. When God forgives you, everything is washed away and God loves you just the same. And lastly, God, whether many would phrase it this way, always sees things your way. God may know that you messed up to the degree that you’ve admitted it to yourself, but he also knows your rationalizations and your excuses, and takes them into account. God’s response is typically something along the lines of “That was wrong. Try to do better… I understand.” And when you don’t admit any wrongdoing, God’s response is, “Nobody else understands, but I do, and I understand you.” God always understands.

Why does God always understand? Is it because God is truly omniscient and loving and understanding? Or is it because God is the voice in your head rationalizing your actions. God is your own sense of shame and guilt, and God is a product of your own consciousness.

Could it be that God is just you?

An essay I posted a few years ago. I thought of it after a discussion with my neighbor last night about how magicians often make great scientific skeptics:

I love a good magic trick.  I enjoy being baffled by a magician, and I like trying to figure out how they do their tricks.  Since I know virtually nothing about magic, I’m rarely, if ever, successful.  On occasion, friends who know one or two magic tricks will show me how they work and I may recognize the trick when someone else presents it.  Most of the time, however, I have to accept that I was duped and will likely never learn the secret behind any magic tricks that I witness.

I used to think that good magicians could witness any magic trick and explain exactly how it was performed, but I’ve learned that this is not entirely true.  For one thing, there are many different types of magic tricks, and magicians may not be versed in all of them.  It’s a big field of study and even the best don’t know all of the tricks.  For another, there are, apparently, multiple ways to do the same tricks.  James Randi, magician and skeptic, demonstrates this in regards to key bending and spoon bending routines.  He shows how there are several ways to create the illusion that one can bend metal with their mind, and he may not be able to tell exactly which trick an illusionist uses.

A magician witnessing a magic trick may, then, be in one of three states.  First, she may recognize the trick and know exactly how it was performed.  Second, she may recognize the trick and know how to perform it similarly, but not know exactly what tactic the other magician invoked.  Third, she may be unfamiliar with the particular trick or even the type of trick and be just as baffled as I would be.  One thing that the magician will be quite certain of, however, is that the trick was just that: a trick; an illusion.  Only in the first situation can she say, with certainty, exactly what happened on the stage.  In the second situation, she can only suggest what may have happened, and in the third, she can only throw up her hands, declare that she was successfully fooled by another magician’s trick, and apply herself to learning the trick in the future.

Regardless of which state she is in, she can conclude, with great certainty, that the magician on stage did not perform a supernatural act, and she would be justified in this conclusion regardless of whether the magician acknowledged that it was a trick or if he claimed that it actually was a supernatural act of magic.  Can she be absolutely certain that the magician did not invoke the supernatural?  No, but she would still be justified in the provisional conclusion that the magician performed a trick.  She is justified because she has evidence, through experience, that she lives in a world where people can perform seemingly supernatural feats through natural methods.  She does not have evidence, on the other hand, that she lives in a world where people can defy the laws of nature.  Based on this, she can justify the provisional conclusion that the performance was an illusion, without absolute certainty of it.  She lives in a world where the naturalistic hypothesis must be favored over any supernatural hypothesis unless she is presented with overwhelming evidence that a supernatural event actually occurred.

If we then showed a cross section of magicians a brand new magic trick that they had never seen and told them that it was actually magic, and not an illusion, the overwhelming consensus of magicians in the group would conclude that the new trick was an illusion regardless of our claim otherwise.  There may be an odd dissenter or two depending on how large our sample of magicians is, but the consensus would support the illusion hypothesis.  They would be justified in their conclusion, and we, in turn, would be justified in accepting, if not virtually obligated to accept, their position that the trick actually was an illusion.

I had a conversation with someone last night about evolution, and he asked me why I believed in it.  I gave him three reasons: (1) In environments where there is reproduction, variation, threats to survival, and limited resources for survival, either evolution or extinction would be inevitable over long periods of time; (2) evolution through natural selection and other forces such as genetic drift is the consensus explanation for speciation by scientists qualified in a variety of fields, including biology, paleontology, and geology, among others; and (3) evolution is a naturalistic explanation for speciation.

All three of these reasons could be a source for longer explanations and debate, but it is the second and third that are relevant to the anecdote of the magician.  Like the magician, humans live in a world where we have evidence for natural laws, and we have evidence that objects in our world obey natural laws.  We witness this evidence in our daily lives, and we have tested many of them under controlled conditions over time through simple and through technologically advanced experiments.  In contrast, we have nothing remotely constituting reasonable evidence that objects in our world have defied natural laws or have been acted upon by supernatural forces.

Additionally, we live in a world where there are people who have demonstrated reliable expertise in various natural fields.  They have demonstrated the most reliable methods of testing hypotheses such that we can, over time, depend on their conclusions.  The consensus of qualified experts that speciation occurred due to natural selection and other natural forces over time is, therefore, justified.  In turn, we are justified in accepting, and virtually obligated to accept, their consensus conclusions in the absence of any overwhelming and verifiable evidence to the contrary.

Where the analogy unfortunately fails is that our world is not a stage with a performance acting independently of us.  It impacts us and we, to some extent, impact it.  Understanding the methods of the magician can be helpful in navigating our experience of the show and making it as helpful to us as possible.  Luckily for us, the methods and natural explanations are not only useful, but can be more impressive than the illusion.

The laws of nature are talented, and our race is an audience made up mostly of naïve observers, but also of a few novice magicians who are rapidly developing their talents.  When we witness the wonders of our world, there is a fantastic illusion of supernatural intervention.  But our budding magicians continually uncover nature’s secrets and present us with natural explanations that are more awe inspiring and helpful than any unsupported speculation about the supernatural.  To what extent does genetic drift play a role in genetic evolution?  How powerful of a force is natural selection in adaptation?  What, exactly, did the common ancestor of humans and chimpanzees look like?  To varying degrees, we’re not entirely positive about the answers to each of these questions, and to varying degrees there is consensus on them.  But there is one thing about which we can be sure: As we witness this performance unfolding, our brightest will not only watch with awe, but will progressively discover the powerful methods invoked by nature.  While some of us throw up our hands and conclude that the magician is beyond our understanding and must be supernatural, others will recognize and support the contributions by the dedicated and talented scientists who reject the illusions and pursue and uncover elegant, beautiful, natural explanations.

I was listening to this latest episode of Dogma Debate by David Smalley in which he told of collecting gifts through a humanist group for a needy person: http://www.spreaker.com/user/smalleyandhyso/159-secrets-of-the-salvation-army. At the 12 minute point, I was suddenly reminded of a similar experience I had about five years ago. I tried to put the event into perspective for several years afterward, but I couldn’t articulate my discomfort with the situation and eventually stopped thinking about it. When I heard this story on Dogma Debate, Smalley made clear to me what had made me upset: Christians had peed all over my goodwill.

Around Christmas 2008, I organized a party at my apartment. I invited a bunch of my friends through Couchsurfing.com, stocked the refrigerator with cheap beer, collected a few bucks from anyone who wanted to contribute, and purchased around $150 of tortillas, ground beef, beans, salsa, lettuce, and sour cream. The guests formed an assembly line and proceeded to make 110 one-pound burritos. As we completed them, the guests had to clear room in the refrigerator by disposing of the initial contents of the refrigerator (the beer).

Most people stayed over, finding sleeping room on the floor and couch. In the morning I reheated the burritos in several ovens around the apartment complex. I was able to wake up one partier to help me load up boxes of burritos before we headed over to meet another Couchsurfing contact, a lady who informed me that she had plenty of stockings and stocking stuffers to contribute. When we arrived at her house, she had the perfect items to round out the gifts: stockings, oranges, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and socks. Awesome. All would be distributed as a small gift to 100 homeless people on the streets of Austin.

With, of course… Bible stories.

I sighed. I had never been in such a situation and I wasn’t sure what to do. In an inarticulate manner, I tried to explain why I really, really wished we could leave those items out. Of course we did not immediately reach an understanding. Her reasons for leaving the tracts in the stockings were many, but I can’t recall exactly how the conversation went. Here are a list of the arguments that she may have brought up, and others which subsequently crossed my mind:

• The tracts were already in the stockings. We just had to add the other stuff like the burritos. Taking them out would be additional work.
• Many of the homeless people didn’t have anything to read, many of them enjoyed reading, and these tracts constituted several pages of materials.
• Most of these people were Christian and liked receiving Christian material. I would concede this point even though she presented no evidence. Most of our nation is Christian, and I assume the homeless population is no different.
• The tracts were harmless. People could read them or not read them, whichever they chose.
• People may read it and be converted to Christianity, giving them a message of hope.
• I got to put the items I chose into the gift, so who was I to tell her what she could and couldn’t include.
• My stubbornness was only threatening to withhold gifts from people. Were my atheist principles more important than sharing a small gift with the less fortunate?

In the end, I sincerely feel that her heart was in a good place. I knew that at the time, so it was difficult to come to grips with my anger. And I was angry. I held my ground, sort of, and I told her that I would remove half of the tracts. It was a decent compromise given that I was not prepared for the situation. When I and the three of my friends who had managed to fight through their hangovers were nearly done distributing the stockings around Austin, I realized that every stocking, tract laden or not, contained a candy cane wrapped in paper conveying the message of God’s love and Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. It really didn’t matter to me at that point because we had met a lot of great homeless people, given them some gifts, and spent hours visiting with the ones who wanted to chat.

So why did I feel angry again a week later? Were my atheistic principles really more important than giving homeless people some fresh socks and a meal? I felt like a jerk based on all of the aforementioned arguments.

What upsets me now is that I ever felt like a jerk about this in the first place. I’m well aware that we weren’t saving the world, and I don’t deserve to feel all that great about doing far less than I should do for others, but at the least I shouldn’t feel ashamed about the few good things I do, right? Six years later, I realize that, while my goodwill and those of my friends wasn’t wasted or ruined, it was peed on just a little bit.

As Smalley said, the Christians “branded” our gift. It was created by a group of people of various beliefs, including Christians, but also including a whole bunch of hippies with non-Christian spiritual beliefs, Eastern religious leanings, deists, pantheists, and at least one atheist. None of us even thought about incorporating symbols of our own beliefs into the gifts (unless you count the few of us who insisted on making several vegetarian burritos). We wanted to have some fun and do something we could feel good about with what little we had to offer.

The Christian brand was stamped on the goodwill of all of us. We got to do something mildly nice, we got to have fun, but the message was not ours. The message was, “If you want something good; if you want to know who cares, look to the Christians who brought you this gift.” We weren’t the ones threatening to hold gifts hostage; the Christian was holding our goodwill hostage to her own proselytizing, well intentioned as she was.

So that’s why I’m pissed off, but what about those homeless people? Well I’m a bit pissed for them, too, I guess. I don’t remember the exact message of the tracts, but similar ones repeat the beatitude from the Sermon on The Mount that tells them they are blessed by their meekness; the stoic message that they’ll inherit the Earth if they only accept their place for a few more years or decades; just a few of the many messages that I think can make someone feel better, but are potentially harmful and are at the least mistaken. I don’t see deception as redemptive, especially when it encourages passiveness toward one’s own position in life. It distracts people from the fact that they’ve been dealt a truly shitty hand, and that the only chance they have at redemption is through their own desires and the aide of real people, whether those people think their working for God or doing good of their own accord. So if I’m feeling any guilt this holiday season, it’s that I do so little for others, not that I did one good thing one time and didn’t try to brand it with anyone’s personal beliefs.

A PARTING THOUGHT:

But back to the message. These behaviors put atheists and humanists in a difficult position. We’ve always been involved in giving and philanthropy and altruism. There are some disagreements about nonbelievers being less giving than Christians. I think it’s debatable. After adjusting for tithing, of which likely only a small percentage goes to philanthropic causes, the figures are closer than normally cited. I would also argue that we humanists are more interested in institutional change than in charity, but even at that we’re gaining ground. Humanist organizations like Foundation Beyond Belief are popping up annually, and secular groups like Doctors without Borders have always been around, getting donations from believers and nonbelievers alike and simply doing good without any regard to religious affiliation.

But in the image arms race, we’re facing an awkward situation where we’re racing believers to the bottom in terms of self congratulation. We’re having to advertise our goodwill more now after decades of being slandered as selfish Randians. It’s unfortunate. I think we would largely prefer to carry on doing good for goodness’ sake. We don’t want to pee all over our giving, but we’re tired of the bad name and, understandably, many people who are far better than I am want credit now, individually and collectively. It’s like the courthouse monuments controversies. We don’t want to put our signs up next to nativity scenes and Ten Commandments monuments, but we’ll continue paying a social price if those religious monuments stand alone without a rebuttal.

At the middle of this, but perhaps benefiting from it, are the needy. It’s possible that they’ll receive more aide as a result, but I would rather not have them be pawns in our popularity contest along the way. I would rather see greater institutional change to benefit the less fortunate, but as the religious have taught us, there’s just not much glory in that.

This is a fun little essay I wrote in 2009 or 2010. I’m sure I posted it somewhere else but I can’t find it. Anyway, enjoy:

Let’s say I’m about to throw a baseball. Before throwing, I take into account what things I know will affect the flight of the baseball, such as gravity and the wind, based on the “folk physics” gained throughout my life that teaches me how to account for such things. I also acknowledge some variables that are beyond my control, such as my naturally flawed motor skills and the expectation that wind speed will change throughout the flight of the ball, and then I make the best throw I can based on these factors.

Assume then that somebody walks up to me and says, “You know, if you spin in two counterclockwise circles before throwing, invisible fairies will guide the ball exactly where you want it to go.” I decide that it can’t hurt, so I try it and it fails. He says, “Well, you’re doing it wrong. You also have to call out to the fairies while spinning.”

At this point, I decide I need some reason to believe in the fairies before I invest any more time in this exercise, as I would like to get on with improving my throw in productive ways. His arguments for the existence of fairies are pretty bad and involve statements like, “Well wouldn’t it be nice if fairies did help you throw a ball?” or, “Somebody long ago wrote a book about baseball fairies.” When I press him for actual evidence, he says, “It works, they exist, I just can’t demonstrate it to you.” And then rather than trying to get me to believe in fairies any longer, he just starts to justify his own belief to me. He speaks about all the great things fairies have done for him, but none of these things seem to be documented under controlled conditions, and all could quite easily be made up or resulted from natural causes.

Additionally, I recall that I’ve thrown baseballs with other people and have never seen the influence of an invisible baseball fairy. I recall that I’ve seen some other baseball leagues where some of the players use this fairy-invoking technique, and others where players claim to rely on invisible “batting trolls”, but I haven’t seen any evidence that they perform better than anyone else. In some cases, their preoccupation with their invisible assistants caused them to miss important details of the game and actually make them worse at it.

Given all of this, I eventually recognize that it is most likely that he is extremely confused about how to make appropriate determinations of whether baseball fairies exist. I conclude that not only am I going to continue to throw baseballs as if baseball fairies don’t exist, but I explain to him that he could simplify own his practices and most likely improve his performance if he did the same and stopped believing in baseball fairies as well. I conclude that until there is some demonstration that fairies do exist, the game of baseball will be simpler and played at a higher level if all of the participants stop taking into consideration baseball fairies. We’ve certainly given the fairies (and the trolls) plenty of opportunities to demonstrate their existence, including a few controlled studies in which teams were given the chance to make pleas to the fairies or trolls and yielded no positive result. Of course they claimed that you can’t test for fairies because fairies don’t like to be tested.

At the end of the day, I conclude that for all intents and purposes, I won’t believe in baseball fairies, batting trolls, or any such thing for which there is no good evidence. I also conclude that anybody else who believes for any intents or purposes that baseball fairies or batting trolls or invisible catching dragons do exist is simply wrong and unjustified and should change their minds. Intents and purposes and things that truly and practically influence our lives are all that matter. So if people want to believe in such things without them having any impact on any intent or any purpose, I wish them luck and doubt they’ll actually be able to pull it off.

Some may say that fairies could exist, but we haven’t figured out how to demonstrate it, others that they may exist but not for any intents or purposes. To them I respond that we’ve wasted too many innings investigating these fairy claims and I’d appreciate my teammates’ help, so get your heads back in the game and play ball.

When our ideas fail on every front, there’s still one avenue that’s more appealing than surrendering to reason. I call it the “You’re Just as Wrong as I Am” argument, and it takes many hideous forms. Here are some examples of this argument off the top of my head:

• Who’s to say who’s right?
• How do we know anything about anything?
• Isn’t it at least possible that I’m right?
• What does it mean for anything to be true?
• Let’s agree to disagree (depending on the context; there are legitimately justifiable contexts for using this one).

These statements make all discussion impossible, yet they are invariably presented by people who have, not more than one breath prior, stated a position on something. It’s the intellectual equivalent of “I know you are but what am I”, but rather than snickers, it invokes head nods from at least some onlookers. I’m fascinated by this phenomenon. On the one hand it’s clearly flawed, but on the other it’s clearly appealing. And to some it seems convincing.

Most fascinating to me are how its flaws are the reason for its appeal! I’ll explain. I’ve said in previous posts that if your evidence could support any and all possible claims, then you have no evidence, and while it’s hard to call these arguments evidence, they’re still premises that could be used in favor of a position; virtually any position in fact. More precisely and more commonly, they are used to counter any evidence against one’s position.

When was the last time you were in a discussion where all of the evidence was on your side, you articulated your reasoning well, and then you said, “but then again all of reality may be an illusion”? I’m guessing somewhere in the vicinity of never.

While there truly is no definitive argument against the possibility that reality is an illusion, we rarely give any thought to it. As long as we have evidence and reason on our side, we don’t concern ourselves with the nature of reality because it goes unspoken that we rely on agreed-upon basic axioms and the perception of shared experience for all of our honest discussions. This is true for all of our most practical discussions, like those about business strategy, traveling directions, and how to go about making lunch, as well as most deep philosophical discussions. We assume some degree of understanding about reality and/or some shared experience of it, but when our position on a topic becomes exposed as inconsistent with that shared reality, it’s tempting to throw the game and its pieces against the wall and call off the whole exercise rather than concede defeat.

And it’s in that childish quality where both the flaws and the appeal of these statements reside. “You’re just as wrong as I am” both defends and destroys your argument simultaneously, along with any argument in its path. It’s the last cry of a failed position. It’s the nuclear option for any discussion.

Keep an eye out for it and you’ll see it used frequently. And if you join me by calling it out with a label like “the philosophical nuclear option” or “the you’re just as wrong as I am argument”, I’m betting that together we could shame these statements right off the planet someday.

I felt like reposting one fun little piece I wrote on morality a while ago after listening to this debate between two atheists on the nature of morality:

http://www.spreaker.com/user/smalleyandhyso/154-atheist-vs-atheist-on-morals_1?utm_source=widget&utm_medium=widget

For the most part I side with Dillahunty on the objective nature of morality (you can see my perspective on this here: https://reverend-robbie.com/2014/11/02/are-morals-and-values-objective-or-subjective/). I think Dillahunty took over the debate after the long commercial break at 53:30. The only place I would disagree with Dillahunty on is the need to ask people why they prefer states of well-being over suffering. He claims at the 1:03:00 point that in order to derive objective morality we have to understand not only what someone’s preference is for how they would like to be treated, but also why they hold that preference. I don’t see why that’s necessary. Anyway, read my little post below and then go listen to the debate. As always please give me your thoughts!

ORIGINAL POST:

Morality, generally: The process of determining the behaviors that most reliably result in the well-being of conscious creatures. (more or less the definition presented by Sam Harris in his books)

Jeff took great pride in the art of baking the Baked Alaska. He had tried several different recipes over the years and had found that some worked better than others. Each recipe had similar ingredients, but also some critical differences. He had consulted several different cookbooks and taken advice from his friends. They all had different instructions. Some of the differences stemmed from desires for different tastes and textures, and other variances resulted from the cooking procedures that each source felt would best achieve their preferred outcomes.

While all of the opinions varied, there were some consistent objectives, ingredients, and methodologies. Each recipe was intended to produce a sweet and fluffy dessert based on ice cream and meringue. Jeff liked most of the recipes, hated a few, and delighted in a couple. Each time he baked, he adjusted the recipe to approach a particular outcome that would be pleasing to most people who generally liked Baked Alaska type desserts.

On consecutive days, Jeff took advice from a couple of friends; the first day from Joe and the second from John. Joe started with the assumption that Jeff wanted to make the dessert that was widely known as a Baked Alaska, even if their particular preferences and methodologies somewhat differed. Before giving his advice, Joe debated with Jeff the qualities of a perfect Baked Alaska, and the processes and ingredients that would achieve the ideal final product. They had a vigorous discussion in which they identified several areas of agreement and some of contention. At times the discussion got heated. Joe and Jeff were passionate and opinionated about their desserts! In the end, they pretty much came to agreement, and despite a few unresolved disagreements, they decided that Jeff would try a particular recipe and they would observe the outcome and try again later based on the results.

The next day, Jeff got together with John. John had a slightly different idea about Baked Alaska, but not much different from those of Jeff and Joe. Their discussion, however, started out much differently. John explained his recipe and then said that it most closely represented the Baked Alaska as defined by The Great Immortal Baked Alaska Baker*, the one who had complete and perfect knowledge of all things Baked Alaska. Jeff didn’t mind this, as he still felt they had common ground for debating the qualities of the dessert in question.

To Jeff’s surprise, however, John said he was happy to discuss the recipe, except that he couldn’t imagine how Jeff could possibly have any position on how to bake without first acknowledging that Baked Alaska was perfectly defined by the Divine Baker, The Preheat and The Chill Before Serve, The Great “I Bake”. How could Baked Alaska even have a meaningful definition without having first being defined by a great recipe giver; one who determined exactly what a perfect Baked Alaska would look and taste like and knew the perfect way to create one? Although mortals did not have access to everything in the mind of The Great Immortal Baked Alaska Baker, mortals could only attempt to make a perfect Baked Alaska because it had first been conceived in the mind of the Great Baker.

“In other words,” John said, “Where do you get your Baked Alaska from?”

Jeff insisted that they forge ahead, as they both had reasonable ideas for the recipe and similar opinions about desirable qualities of the finished product. To this, John protested. “Of course we could proceed because, whether or not you acknowledge it, we’re both pursuing the Baked Alaska conceived by the Great Baker. Without his conception, though, what’s to keep you from defining a Baked Alaska as a crunchy, salty dish with beans, meat, and strips of seasoned tortilla chips?

When Jeff explained to John that such a dish sounded like a Frito Pie, John unproductively responded, “Well who’s to say, hmmm? And even if we did agree on what the Baked Alaska should look like, what’s to keep you from making it with rocks and nails unless the recipe had been invented by The Baker? Some chefs, mostly in other countries, try that you know. And on what grounds can you tell them that they’re wrong without appealing to his Holy Culinariness?”

Jeff was thoroughly baffled. “I guess I would tell them that they’re being nutty, and while they may be happy making it with those ingredients, most anyone who tried to eat it would be pretty unhappy, as the laws of chemistry dictate that you can’t achieve such a dessert with those ingredients. I mean, if we’re not talking about a sweet, ice cream and meringue dessert, and if we’re not attempting to use methods and ingredients that demonstrably create that, then what are we talking about?”

Jeff continued, “If someone wants to take that position and that backward approach on a ‘Baked Alaska’, then I suppose we could agree to another title, but I would make it clear that I’m not interested in making their nail-based Frito Pie and would rather make something similar to what was formerly known as a Baked Alaska.” And gathering himself further, he concluded, “How does appeal to a Divine Baker solve anything if those other nutjobs could just say that they are close, personal friends with the Divine Baker and that he told them that their Baked Alaska was the correct one? It just adds another unnecessary step and can do nothing but convolute the discussion.”

John was appalled. “You’re just being ridiculous. Without some transcendentally generated definition and method for Baked Alaska, you can’t even have a discussion about what makes a good one and how to go about baking it.”

“Look,” Jeff explained, ready to abandon the entire project for the day, “we’ve got a basic idea of what makes a good Baked Alaska and we can try to bake one. Neither of us is going to try to tell a customer that a Frito Pie is actually a Baked Alaska, and I’M NOT ABOUT TO SERVE SOMEONE NAILS AND ROCKS IN THEIR FOOD SINCE THAT’S JUST IMMORAL!”

“Immoral, huh?” John said with a tone of triumph. “Where do YOU get your morals from?”

* – I’m aware that Charles Ranhofer invented the Baked Alaska and prescribed a recipe. If you get hung up on that, you either lack imagination, are missing the point, or both.

Sorry I’m buried in work this weekend. These picks will be much abbreviated from last week. Note that I’m calling upsets by rankings not by Vegas:

#1 Miss St at #5 Bama: Bama just isn’t that good right now. Miss St. 28-16

#3 FSU at Miami: FSU has been tempting fate every week, so it catches up with them this week. Miami’s game has improved in its last three wins and I think it’s good enough to win 48-40. For the record I’m picking FSU to lose again when it plays Florida. This isn’t wishful thinking here; I really think these teams have what it takes and will take down a flawed FSU.

#4 TCU at Kansas: TCU 45-20

#5 ASU at Oregon State: ASU avoids the letdown 27-23

#6 OSU at #25 Minnesota: OSU 31-14

#9 Auburn at #15 Georgia: Auburn rebounds (the ball off their own butt into the hands of Georgia linemen). Georgia 41-31

#12 MSU at Maryland: MSU 38-21

Washington at #14 Arizona: UA 31-17

#16 Nebraska at #20 Wisconsin: Neither team has beat a currently ranked opponent. Nebraska seems to put up points. I guess they stop Wisco’s running game from beating them up too badly. Nebraska 20-10

#17 LSU at Arkansas: Arkansas pulls the upset 28-13.

Northwestern at #18 Notre Dame: ND 35-14

#19 Clemson at #22 GT: Clemson 31-16

VT at #21 Duke: Duke 27-17

#23 Utah at Stanford: Vegas gives a big advantage to Stanford, but I’m sticking with the rankings. The Utes are a pretty good team even with some injuries, and their defense is still really good. Utah 30-24.

Mizzou at #24 Texas A&M: I don’t think A&M or Auburn are all that good. A&M may as well be on a 4 game skid. However, Mizzou hasn’t really impressed either. I pick A&M to get a solid win at home 21-7.

Enjoy the games! Put your picks for any games in the comments!