Can Science Kill God? (Continued)

"Adam and Eve," by Tiziano and Vecelli

My question to Andrew Sullivan was whether specifically Biblical notions like “fallenness” are necessary or even useful in understanding our human condition and bettering ourselves. The term doesn’t map to anything that we know from science about human evolution or the way our minds work. Even terms like “flawed” and “defect,” though not uniquely Biblical, should be used very judiciously when talking about human nature.

The notions of sin and redemption do map to a secular and scientific (biological, anthropological) understanding of human history. However, there is no transcendental grounding for these notions; they involve very real human transactions that can be discussed without reference to the Judeo-Christian god. If God is the community, as Durkheim proposed, then we can remove transcendence from the equation and carry on with our struggles to live in community with other individuals.

The notion of “fallenness” doesn’t help us in these struggles because it requires buying into the whole package of misconceptions such as original sin and expiation through sacrifice.  As animals who know we are going to die, we already have more than enough free-floating anxiety. Why add to it a theology that tells us we are born into iniquity and that our guilt can only be absolved through complete surrender to the will of the community (God) as represented to us by his priests and prophets? What is required by these intermediaries will vary in detail, but it is sure to include observance of ritual, belief in designated myths, and strict avoidance of prohibited behaviors. These are the major role-players in the universal grammar of religion. Needless to say, things can go seriously awry when God’s representatives on earth screw up. (Search this site for “Pope Benedict.”) And that’s where individual autonomy, where it has been allowed to emerge, can serve as an effective counterbalance.

Balancing individual autonomy with community constraints is always a tricky business, but the Biblical theology of fallenness, sin, guilt, and redemption are a huge thumb pressed down on one side of the scales. People in this secular, democratic age are much more self-regulating than ever before, and we may not be doing such a bad job of it considering the challenges. We may ultimately fail, but our chances will be greatly improved by switching off some of our unnecessary internal static about sin and guilt. Spending one’s years feeling guilty about behaviors that are not, by any rational standard, harmful to anyone is a waste of a precious resource: a single human life.

Novelist David Foster Wallace Gives Atheism a Bad Rap

In May of 2005, David Foster Wallace, author of Infinite Jest (1996), delivered a commencement address to graduating seniors at Kenyon College. A transcription of it is still getting a lot of hits on the Internet.

In paragraph 4 of the transcription, Wallace uses what he calls a “didactic little story” to make a point about the arrogance, self-centeredness, and closed-mindedness of atheism. Here’s the story:

There are these two guys sitting together in a bar in the remote Alaskan wilderness. One of the guys is religious, the other is an atheist, and the two are arguing about the existence of God with that special intensity that comes after about the fourth beer. And the atheist says: “Look, it’s not like I don’t have actual reasons for not believing in God. It’s not like I haven’t ever experimented with the whole God and prayer thing. Just last month I got caught away from the camp in that terrible blizzard, and I was totally lost and I couldn’t see a thing, and it was 50 below, and so I tried it: I fell to my knees in the snow and cried out, ‘Oh, God, if there is a God, I’m lost in this blizzard, and I’m gonna die if you don’t help me.'” And now, in the bar, the religious guy looks at the atheist all puzzled. “Well then you must believe now,” he says, “After all, here you are, alive.” The atheist just rolls his eyes. “No, man, all that happened was a couple Eskimos came wandering by and showed me the way back to camp.”

To convey how this story struck me, an atheist, I transposed it to an entirely different religious culture, Hinduism, with Vishnu (the “protector” god) replacing the Judeo-Christian god. Here it is:

There are these two Indian chaps sitting together in a cafe enjoying chai somewhere in remote Rajasthan. One of them is a devout Hindu, and the other doesn’t profess any religion at all; his parents were non-observant members of two different faiths, and he decided as a young man that he was an atheist.

The two men start arguing about the existence of Vishnu (the Hindu “protector” god) with that special intensity that comes after about the fourth cup of chai. And the atheist says, “Look, my good friend, I actually have reasons for not believing in Vishnu. You might say I’ve ‘experimented’ with prayer to him. Just last month I got caught away from camp in the desert. I became totally lost and couldn’t see any sign of life on the horizon. The sun was beating down on my head and I was becoming dangerously dehydrated. Then I decided to try it: I fell to my knees in the sand and cried out to Vishnu, ‘Oh great and eternal protector of mankind, if you exist, then help me now, for otherwise I shall surely die!’

And now, in the cafe, the Hindu looks at the atheist all puzzled. “Well then, you must believe now,” he says, “After all, here you are, alive.” The atheist just rolls his eyes. “No, my friend,” he replies. “All that happened was that a couple of camel-drivers found me and showed me the way back to camp.”

Now, here is Wallace’s interpretation of this story, which I have edited to fit the Indian version:

Plus, there’s the whole matter of arrogance. The nonreligious guy is so totally certain in his dismissal of the possibility that the passing camel drivers had anything to do with his prayer for help. True, there are plenty of religious people who seem arrogant and certain of their own interpretations, too. They’re probably even more repulsive than atheists, at least to most of us. But religious dogmatists’ problem is exactly the same as the story’s unbeliever: blind certainty, a close-mindedness that amounts to an imprisonment so total that the prisoner doesn’t even know he’s locked up.

My first question is: Should we consider the atheist “closed-minded?” After all, in his time of greatest need, he was at least willing to “try” praying to Vishnu.

My second question: Is refusing to believe in the reality of something for which there is no evidence a sign of close-mindedness? Maybe it’s a sign of healthy-mindedness.

My third question: What could be more arrogant and self-centered than imagining that a god who ignored the prayers of six million Jews in Nazi death camps would rescue you from a mess you got yourself into?

Later, Wallace writes:

In the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship.

Wallace is talking about two different things as if they were the same. One is belief and the other is worship. First you believe, and then you worship. How can you worship if you don’t believe? Is belief something we “choose” because it brings benefits like redirecting our worship away from material things to more spiritual ones?

And I don’t accept his premise that not worshipping God (any God) leads to worshipping material things. I don’t “worship” material things. I do, however, value “earthly things” like a healthy ecosystem, an end to hunger, and education and healthcare for all. I simply believe this life is all there is and we must busy ourselves making it better for everyone. Is that crass materialism?

Wallace apparently believes that there are only two choices: You worship God or you worship body, beauty, money, and power. This is just not true. What are we to make of Carl Sagan or any number of other atheists who have dedicated their lives to education, to science, or to public service?

I think Wallace has given atheists a really bad rap.