Each week on the Sony Award winning series Beyond Belief, Ernie Rea is joined by three guests who discuss how their particular religious tradition affects their values and way of looking at the world, often revealing hidden and contradictory truths.
Ernie is joined by Professor David Jones from St Mary's University, Professor Mary Seller from King's College, London), and Omar Sultan Haque from Harvard Medical School.
The majority of the godly are not fundamentalists. Nor are they esoteric theologians whose belief is so amorphous it can't be defined.
No, the majority of the godly are moderates whose faith is something they wear like an occasional accessory. It doesn't rule their lives, but it's comforting to have it there for times of need, or celebration, or rites of passage. This kind of faith is a quaint tradition that serves to identify groups and foster a sense of belonging. The tribal loyalty thus engendered should be commended, up to the point that it becomes unreasonable.
The point of unreasonableness is reached when the tribe seeks to impose its dogma on the rest of us. It doesn't happen often, because this particular tribe is more interested in the loyalty than the dogma.
It's not the moderates who are the problem (at least in the UK), but the two extremes - fundamentalism, and vacuous theology - which speak with disproportionately loud voices. The rantings of fundamentalists on the one hand - be they creationists, Islamic extremists or whatever - get far too much media attention simply because they shout loudest (it's the squeaky wheel that gets the grease). Theologians, on the other hand, are afforded way too much influence in British public life, to the extent of automatic membership of the House of Lords if they happen to be Anglican bishops.
I've no quarrel with the moderates, as long as they stay moderates and leave me alone. But unfortunately religious moderates who take their religion seriously tend to become less moderate, veering towards either fundamentalism or vacuous theology. Indeed 'taking religion seriously' pretty much requires a degree of extremism - a 'serious' religious belief cannot help having repercussions throughout every aspect of a person's life.
A cursory survey of religious moderates is likely to suggest that there isn't much of a problem at all. But it's the vast majority of moderates who constitute the umbrella of normality and harmlessness under which the fundamentalists and theologians shelter.
Fundamentalism should be challenged at every opportunity, not because such challenges have any chance of swaying dogmatic fundamentalists - they haven't - but because public challenging of fundamentalism highlights its absurdity and shows the moderates why they should remain moderate.
Theologians should also be challenged, because despite theology's lack of validity, theologians occupy influential positions in society, where what they have to say is afforded undeserved respect. Such challenges need to be direct and uncompromising. It's no good attacking a theologian on his home territory - theology is a cloudy, indistinct field of contemplation that isn't susceptible to rational discussion, and any attempt to meet it half way is likely to lead to confusion and frustration. Worse, it will appear to give a theological argument some basis as an intellectually valid standpoint, when it clearly has none. By 'direct challenge' I mean a challenge to the first principle on which all theological discussions appear to be based - that God exists. Without that premise, all of theology crumbles.
It's been suggested[1] that theology isn't actually a subject at all. But if that's the case it has a huge advantage over many other disciplines: being qualified in theology gives you the authority to speak out on subjects that have nothing whatever to do with the number of angels that can dance on the head of a pin.
The muddle-headed cleric was interviewed for about eight minutes in advance of a debate in the House of Lords. The essence (indeed the whole) of his thesis was "something must be done."
I've nothing against people having opinions, but when they appear on national media to speak on a particular topic, I expect them to have some established expertise, authority or at least relevant experience that will add to the debate. But just because Dr. Williams is a nice chap with a posh voice - that's not a good enough reason to put his views on the nation's premier morning news radio programme. If you listen to what he said in those eight minutes, you'll find he said nothing new or useful.
1. Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion (London: Bantam Press, 2006), 57
Congrats to both of them, and thanks for drawing the mainstream spotlight onto new media - both of these titles were originally released as free podcast novels.
When I was very young I asked my mother about the Holy Trinity. I wanted to know how three persons, beings, entities, whatever, could all be one single thing, and at the same time three separate things. "There are some things we're not meant to understand," she said. To a little child, that's tantamount to saying, "Don't worry about it. That's just the way it is."
Only in later life have I reflected on the effect such pronouncements may have had. Vivid in my memory is the story of Abraham almost sacrificing his son, Isaac, only for God to call it off at the last moment. Thinking back now, I remember feeling distinctly uneasy about the story. This is a loving God? But it's in the Bible, and I'd been told the Bible was true. A small child, however, doesn't dwell long on such matters, and I had other things claiming my attention.
But a child's mind is a clean slate; what is first written thereon is likely to endure, colouring the worldview taking shape in that putative personality. Even seemingly insignificant snippets of inculcation can have profound effect. How much greater effect, then, if you immerse a young child in an alternative reality, to the exclusion of everything else?
I've held off writing about the recent Channel 4Cutting Edge TV documentary Baby Bible Bashers until it was available to view uninterrupted. You can see it as a series of short clips on YouTube, but now BitTorrent-enabled users can find the whole thing here:
There's been plenty of discussion over at RD.net, but I particularly want to mention that the film made a point about the manipulation of these kids by their parents. Whether or not the film's slant accentuated this, it can't be denied that all three of these young 'preachers' have been influenced (to put it mildly) by their parents, who appear to believe that their god-filled worldview is real. The children, however, had no choice in the matter.
The three families, overly fundamentalist, are by no means typical - otherwise film-makers would not want to document them. But recent polls have shown that there are vast numbers of people who, though less extreme, have similar values, and are raising a similarly skewed generation of faith-head offspring.
It's clear that seven-year-old Samuel lives in fear of going to Hell - his responses direct to camera contained references to descending into Hell and being eaten by worms. This idea came from his father, who admitted telling his son (then only three) about eternal damnation. Samuel's only option, apparently, was to be baptised and have his sins washed away. At that point he began his 'ministry', preaching his first sermon in church, standing on an upturned plastic crate, still aged only three. (Samuel's fire-and-brimstone performance was captured on home video.)
This film pressed a lot of buttons. It was sad, and enraging. Watch it.
Paul S. Jenkins, writer, podcaster and tech-enthusiast (and atheist and skeptic) lives and works in Hampshire, UK. Notes from an Evil Burnee is his blog about things skeptical.
Posts
