Category Archives: Arguments for atheism
Here is just one simple example of the problem of evil:
On Sunday, parents and kids from my son’s Cub Scout den packed food at a place called Kids Against Hunger. Before we started work, the staff showed us a video about the cause. One statistic cited in the video was that more than half of children in Haiti die of malnutrition before the age of 15. Whether that statistic is completely accurate or not, it’s safe to say that many children die of malnutrition in Haiti through no fault of their own.
Are we supposed to believe (and tell our children!) that there is a god who cares about children in Haiti and could prevent their suffering but (for good but mysterious reasons) allows many of them to starve to death?
Clearly there is no god who cares about children in Haiti and could prevent their suffering. So here’s the quadrilemma: Is there a powerless god, an apathetic god, a powerless and apathetic god, or no god? (Answer: It doesn’t matter which. As the A-Unicornist writes, “the only thing worse than a God who does not exist is a God who might as well not exist.”)
This isn’t a recreational mental exercise. How we think about this stuff has very real consequences. For example, if we believe in a God who *could* alleviate suffering anywhere and everywhere if he really wanted to, then we must conclude that he doesn’t really want to, because the suffering is there (and always has been, in abundance). And if God himself thinks there is a good reason for people to suffer, why should we bother to help them?
Now I know what you, my dear apologist, are thinking: “People suffer *so* we can help them.” Well, that’s a shitty reason. Do you really think a benevolent god operates that way, that it’s ‘all-loving’ to allow (or cause) many people to suffer and die because *some* good will come from *some* people helping *some* of them?
“Life isn’t fair, but God is good” — this is true only if “good” means “less cruel than he could have been.”
A woman is walking with her young son on the beach when a tidal wave suddenly appears and sweeps the boy out to sea. The mother immediately falls to her knees and starts praying, “Oh Lord, please return my son to me. I will be so grateful!” A moment later, another wave brings the boy back and sets him down on the shore, completely unharmed. The mother looks up at the sky and says curtly, “He had a hat.”
This joke takes aim at those who fail to appreciate what they have received, no matter how grand or miraculous, and instead focus on what they have lost or never had.
But the mother in this joke has a valid point. If an all-powerful god would intervene to save a boy, why would he neglect to also recover the boy’s hat?
It would certainly be petty to begrudge a ‘mortal’ — such as a Coast Guard rescue swimmer — for only saving a child from drowning and failing to save his hat. But a presumably all-powerful god who does mediocre miracles deserves to be called out. And every miracle in the Bible that I can think of is mediocre — that is, much less impressive than it could be — especially when you think of it in the context of God’s supposed omnipotence.
Here are few biblical miracles that come to mind:
- Jesus turning water into wine: Why did he need ingredients? Why not just create wine from nothing?
- God turning Aaron’s staff into a snake to prove Moses and Aaron were speaking for God: Why didn’t God just appear to Pharaoh and speak for himself? And why did he use a ‘miracle’ that Pharaoh’s magicians were able to imitate without supernatural aid?
- God making the sun stand still (never mind the physics) so the Israelites had more daylight hours to kill the Amorites : Why didn’t God just kill the Amorites (painlessly) and spare everyone the trauma of war?
Apologists would answer these challenges in the same way they answer the problem of evil in general — by invoking God’s ‘mysterious ways’ and his sovereignty: God could make life 100 percent pleasure, 0 percent pain, for everyone, but he opts not to do that for reasons that we cannot understand, and it is not our place to question him. (That sounds a little like what we kids used to say to each other on the playground about daredevil feats: “I can do that; I just don’t feel like it.”)
I regard the Bible as folklore and its miracle stories as fiction. So in my view, the problem of mediocre miracles has a simple and satisfying explanation: The Bible’s authors were not thinking big enough. They established ‘problem situations’ and then treated the key constraints of those situations as if they applied to God:
- Given only water, Jesus makes wine.
- Given only a staff, God makes a snake.
- Given only a star and a planet, God makes a day last longer for people at certain longitudes.
When I read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe as a child — and again when I watched the 2005 movie — I was deeply disturbed by the battle and its implications. Why does Aslan, the all-loving, all-powerful king of Narnia, stand up an army and make it fight a battle against the white witch’s army?
If he needs an army in order to accomplish his will, then he is not all-powerful. If he doesn’t need the army, then he is sending four children and countless Narnian creatures into combat unnecessarily. My thanks to C.S. Lewis for this handy illustration of the problem of evil.
I first read the story of Joseph (of “dream coat” fame) when I was a teen-ager. It has a great plot:
- A young man is sold into slavery by his brothers because they resent his favorite-son status and his spiritual gifts.
- He ascends in a few giant steps from slave to ridiculously powerful Egyptian government official (1) because he is faithful to God and (2) because God has a clever plan.
- The brothers become victims of a famine, but God has enabled Joseph to predict the famine and prepare Egypt by storing food, so the brothers come to Egypt to beg for food. They meet with Joseph (wow, he’s powerful but accessible!), but they don’t recognize him — after all, he has aged, he’s dressed like an Egyptian, and at the top of a country’s government is the last place they would expect to see him.
- After a dramatic build-up, Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers and declares: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”
I found this idea fascinating: God can allow people to do evil and somehow engineer the results to be good. At the time, it made my mind race. God obviously ‘allows’ people to do bad things, but in this case, the bad things were instrumental in God’s plan. Another notable example of this phenomenon is the betrayal and execution of Jesus. In such cases, did God want the people to do evil? If not, how did something happen that God didn’t want to happen?
As a teen-ager, I thought: “God is going to have his way anyway, but he can do it with or without our cooperation.” I wanted to believe that God didn’t require for people to do evil, but since they were going to do evil anyway, God used them to accomplish something good. I was trying to let God off the hook.
But (1) God should not need my help getting off a hook, and (2) I was projecting human limitations onto God.
We humans want and seek for things to happen without knowing they will happen or being able to ensure that they will happen. We hope to get promoted; we try to stick to our diets. These are reflections of our wills. But God presumably has the ability to control all events and certainty about the effects of what he does (or allows people to do). So whatever happens, it’s God’s will, right?
In any case, if God is able to allow people ‘free will’ to do evil and still rig the outcomes ‘for good,’ he should be able to rig the outcome of every evil act so the victim is protected or even rewarded. Haven’t seen much of that in recorded history. Either he’s opting not to rig outcomes, or the suffering is the intended outcome!
But what about the second assumption, that if God is omnibenevolent, then He prefers a world without evil over a world with evil? Again, such an assumption is not necessarily true. The fact is that in many cases we allow pain and suffering to occur in a person’s life in order to bring about some greater good or because we have some sufficient reason for allowing it. Every parent knows this fact. There comes a point at which a parent can no longer protect his child from every mishap; and there are other times when discipline must be inflicted on the child in order to teach him to become a mature, responsible, adult. Similarly, God may permit suffering in our lives in order to build us or to test us, or to build and test others, or to achieve some other overriding end. Thus, even though God is omnibenevolent, He might well have morally sufficient reasons for permitting pain and suffering in the world.
— Wiiliam Lane Craig, writing on the problem of evil
Craig’s parenting analogy is seriously flawed because it suggests that God and human parents are under the same constraints.
As humans, we may be justified in sometimes allowing or causing others to suffer, but only to the extent that it is necessary to achieve a greater good — for example, to spare them (or others) worse suffering or, in some cases, to bring them (or others) some kind of reward.
For example, we allow our children to endure the pain of vaccinations in order to protect them against diseases, which can bring misery, debilitation or death.
Similarly, military recruits are subjected to mental, physical and emotional stresses in order to help them succeed and survive in combat. “More sweat in training, less blood in battle.”
As we mature, we learn to accept trade-offs as part of life — as long as they are truly necessary. We don’t get shots for diseases that don’t exist, and if there were no such thing as war, there would be no boot camps to persevere through.
Human parents can honestly tell their kids, “I wish this trade-off did not exist, but it does.”
But God designed the whole scheme, so he willed that there would be trade-offs. How could he then wish things were different?
We take it as a given that we can’t eat and drink whatever we want and still have healthy bodies. But if our bodies had been designed differently, there would be no such trade-off.
Christian apologists may claim that God withholds some pleasures from us and subjects us to some suffering now so we have the opportunity for an afterlife of extreme pleasure and absolutely no suffering. In other words, our complete happiness and our complete lack of suffering is God’s goal. However, God imposes a restriction on how we can get to that state: That extreme pleasure without suffering is only possible for those who are in a ‘consensual’ love relationship with God. If this is true, it isn’t just ‘the way it is’ — it is a condition of our existence that was imposed by God. So why does this trade-off exist? Either God needs a relationship with us — in which case our pain is for his gain — or God designed us to need a relationship with him. No matter which is the case, God willingly imposes a trade-off that should not have been necessary.
Actually, it is impossible to be human and not suffer, because suffering is simply experiencing something we don’t like. We suffer continually just by virtue of not being able to do everything that is pleasurable and not being able to avoid everything that is unpleasant. The difference between what we normally call ‘discomfort’ and what we normally call ‘suffering’ is one of degree. So basically, if God created us, he willed for us to suffer simply by making us as natural beings.
Parents and drill sergeants can’t control the external forces that make it necessary to train and ‘discipline’ those in their care. But for an omnipotent god, there are no external forces. It’s time to stop letting God off the hook and pretending his hands are tied. Is our pain for his benefit or for ours? If it’s for his benefit, then yeah, it makes sense: He is sadistic. But if it’s for our benefit, what exactly is the reward that is worth whatever kind and amount of pain we might experience?
Find one blog post or book excerpt that explains, to your satisfaction (not its author’s satisfaction), why the suffering that humans experience every day — not just in Connecticut last Friday but everywhere all the time — is a necessary part of the “perfect will” of a god who “is love.”
Looking on the bright side is not enough. The challenge is to explain why there has to be a dark side in the first place.
The best anyone can do in this regard is to say “We can’t know God’s purpose in allowing [or, rather, designing!] this kind of suffering.” This is a non-explanation. If a god is so sovereign and mysterious that nothing he does ever has to make sense to us, then “reconciling tragedy with God” is a pointless exercise.
Bizarrely, belief in this kind of god is no more consoling than believing in no god. Either way, there is no guarantee that you or someone you care about won’t be the next to experience unspeakable fear or pain. So what does it mean when you assert that God is “good” and “in control” and “merciful” and “never gives you more than you can handle” and “answers prayer” and “cares about his children”? The only way for these things to be true of God is for us to strip them of the meanings that they have for everyone else.
Please, for your own peace of mind, admit (or at least consider the possibility) that all the senseless anguish in the world is really senseless, that there is no divine plan that it all ties into, and that it really is completely on us to watch out for each other.
“What if you’re wrong?” the Christian asked the atheist.
The atheist answered:
“I think you are asking, ‘What if the Christian god is real and your lack of belief in him is what disqualifies you from salvation?’
“If that is the question, it is an example of an either-or fallacy. It suggests there are only two possibilities: that there is no god, and that there is a god whose only requirements for salvation are those presented in Christianity. Ironically, the question is also an appeal to fear of the worst-case scenario. So I must point out that there are countless other logical possibilities to consider — some of them far worse cases than the two you have presented.
“Just think of any established religion whose salvation requirements are stricter than those of Christianity. What if you are right about the existence of a god but wrong about what he requires for salvation, and you don’t make the cut?
“If you were consistent in your appeal to the worst-case scenario, you would be striving to identify all the religions that have salvation doctrines and then striving to meet all of their salvation requirements. But it would be absurd to do that. You have to take probabilities into account.
“For whatever reason, you have concluded that the claims of Christianity are so likely to be true and that the claims of other religions are so likely to be false that you can rest assured that you are saved.
“The same kind of scrutiny that has enabled you to rule out the claims of all non-Christian religions has enabled me to rule out the claims of all religions.
“Neither of us is prepared for the theoretical worst-case scenario. But I think both of us feel safe from eternal damnation according our individual views of reality.”
Tyson doesn’t simply deride the ID position. He shows that, in each scientific era, the ID position has been the de facto explanation for things scientists cannot yet get their heads around.
I’m naturally analytical, although I am not well educated in any scientific discipline or in rhetoric. I am also a stickler for precision in communication. I think my stubbornness in those two areas is the reason I clung to Christianity for so long — much more than the validity of my beliefs or my sincerity in believing them.
I would challenge (aloud or to myself) the logic of people’s justifications for not believing: “Yes, the church is full of hypocrites, but that doesn’t mean their god is false.” “OK, so, you don’t understand how Jesus could be fully divine and also fully human, but that is an argument from ignorance.”
I was, so to speak, a born ‘devil’s advocate’ who happened to be advocating Christianity. Until …
I was at a men’s Bible study a few years ago, and we were pondering why people reject Christianity. One guy said, flatly, “Because they are hard-hearted.” My gut reaction, though I kept it to myself, was that Christians are just as hard-hearted (or more so) toward other religions and toward atheism as non-Christians are toward Christianity.
I began trying to see things from the atheist point of view. Toward this end, I visited atheist, rationalist, skeptic and ex-Christian websites, initially with the goal of eliminating double standards and weak arguments from my Christian apologetics toolkit.
Here is an excerpt from an e-mail message I sent to my dad during that period of study:
Seen on bumper sticker: “We are both atheists. I just believe in one less god than you do.” Actually that’s very good way to articulate it. A monotheist is satisfied with the evidence in support of the existence of a particular god and dissatisfied with the evidence in support of all contrary beliefs — either that no god exists or that other gods exist.
- Conclusion A: There are no gods.
- Conclusion B: There is *only* the Christian God.
- Conclusion C: There are other gods besides the Christian God.
A precludes B and C. The person who draws conclusion A must be satisfied that B and C are both false.
B precludes A and C. The person who draws conclusion B must be satisfied that A and C are both false.
C precludes A and B. The person who draws conclusion C must be satisfied that A and B are both false.
The Christian who objects to a rejection of Christianity based on lack of satisfying evidence should keep in mind that Christians reject non-Christian beliefs on the same basis.
That was a turning point for me. I had finally given myself permission to question everything.
This could also be considered “The belief criterion, part 2.”
In the previous post, I tried to make the point that person is not simply a believer or an unbeliever with respect to a given claim. Belief can be very strong, very weak, or somewhere in between. As an example, I compared the belief that there will be a sunrise tomorrow with the belief that my goldfish will be alive tomorrow.
To those who happen to think absolute certainty is the standard, I would say there is no such thing as certainty, and that even ‘virtual certainty’ is theoretical.
Actual certainty is logically impossible. No matter what you believe, there is always the logical possibility that some evidence will emerge to refute your belief. For example, you might believe that the Genesis flood really occurred, but in the afterlife, God may tell you that it really was just a parable.
The best that a human can have is ‘virtual certainty’ of a claim, in which all of his or her actions are consistent with the claim. But we don’t even know ourselves well enough to know whether we would demonstrate virtual certainty of a given claim in all situations. Put another way, we don’t know how much we’d be willing to bet on a given claim until we actually have to make the bet.
If the requirements for salvation include certainty (or even just virtual certainty) of the central assertions of the gospel, then no one can be sure that he or she is saved.
If the requirement is for a lesser degree of belief than virtual certainty, the actual degree of belief required is a fundamental question. It is logically possible that anyone who has ever believed the central assertions of the gospel, to any degree for any period of time for any reason, is saved. It is also logically possible that anyone who has ever doubted the central assertions of the gospel, to any degree for any period of time for any reason, is condemned.
Finally, don’t dismiss the question by saying that God can simply forgive a lack of belief. Even if he can, the Bible certainly doesn’t promise that he will, and if he did, on what basis would he be doing it? Good works (credited as faith)? Arbitrary favoritism?
So again, where is the assurance of salvation?