On Wednesday, April 28th Rebecca Goldstein, philosopher and novelist, gave a lecture at Dartmouth on her novel 36 Arguments for the Existence of God. Her book is actually about why these 36 arguments fail, which came as a shock to those in the audience who had expected her to be a theist. I had researched her before and discovered she was an atheist, so I was prepared. What I was not prepared for (but perhaps should have been) was the shallowness of her case against God’s existence.

Most of her lecture was not devoted to the 36 arguments (why 36, and more importantly, why these 36, is left a mystery/left unanswered), but to her theory about fiction and philosophy, which she has attempted to combine in several of her novels. It was only afterwards, when browsing through the appendix of her book in which she gives each of the thirty six arguments and her “refutations” of them that I discovered that she, despite her Princeton PhD, was really no better than Dawkins, Dennett, or Hitchens.

Rebecca Goldstein

The arguments in her appendix can be divided into three broad categories: arguments no thinking theist would put forth in the way she presents them (straw men), arguments no thinking theist would put forth period, and arguments that easily survive her objections. 

Under the first category—straw man arguments—one that stands out in particular is the cosmological argument. The version of the cosmological argument she offers goes as follows:

1. Everything that exists must have a cause

2. The universe must have a cause (from 1)

3. Nothing can be the cause of itself 

4. The universe cannot be the cause of itself (from 3)

5. Something outside the universe must have caused the universe (from 2 and 4)

6. God is the only thing outside the universe 

7. God caused the universe

8. God exists

Of course, Goldstein’s objection is the typical, cliché atheist question: then who caused God? The first premise says everything must have a cause, but the conclusion establishes the existence of something that doesn’t have a cause. If there is one exception, why can’t the universe be the exception? Now this objection is bad even in its own right—saying you can’t accept God as an explanation for the universe because you  can’t explain God is like saying we can’t accept your mother as the explanation for dinner because somebody must have cooked your mother. And of course God, definitonally, is that which is above nature (which includes natural laws, like causation). 

Furthermore, the universe can’t be the exception, because that would make the universe a necessary being—which, since it is contingent, it clearly isn’t. This kind of objection—call it the infinite regress objection—is so egregiously bad because it tries to take the central premise of the cosmological argument, which is that, since there can’t be an infinite regress of causes, there must be a first cause, and use it to disprove the argument. It tries to use the impossibility of an infinite regress to disprove God’s existence, when it is that very impossibility on which the cosmological rests. But that is utterly nonsensical. It would be like saying to a relativist, “no, relativism can’t be true, because there are no moral truths.”

But in fact we don’t even need to bother with her objection, because it is only relevant to her version of the cosmological, and her version is manifestly a straw man. All it takes is a slight variation in the first premise and you have solved the problem. Take, for instance, the Kalam cosmological argument, which is the version defended by William Lane Craig:

1. Whatever begins to exist has a cause

2. The universe began to exist

3. Therefore, the universe has a cause

Or a basic summary of Aquinas’ first way:

1. Some things are moved (which means not only physical motion, but changed)

2. Every that is moved is moved by another 

3. Either there is a first mover or nothing is moved by another

4. There is a first mover

I am not trying to assess the soundness of these arguments here. Clearly, they require explanation and defense. My point is that both of the first premises of the above syllogisms are more limited in scope than the first premise she uses, thereby easily avoiding her refutation. The objection she raises- who caused God- is totally irrelevant to any actual cosmological argument that believers use.

Then there is the second category of arguments, ones that no apologist would actually use. She offers one called “the argument from holy books”:

1. There are holy books that reveal the word of God

2. The word of God is necessarily true

3. The word of God reveals the existence of God

4. God exists.

If Goldstein believes Christians actually argue in this way, then her ignorance of classical natural theology is so deep as to be almost tragic. Of course, such a patronizing assumption of Christian stupidity is by no means unexpected from someone who would write the following about atheists: “Now it’s all gone unforgotten, and minds that have better things to think about have to devote precious neuronal resources to figure out how to knock some sense back into the species” (36 Arguments, pg. 1). 

Then there’s the third category of arguments in which she fails to refute even her own version. Argument 16, the argument from moral truth:

1. There exist objective moral truths (slavery and torture and genocide are not just distasteful to us, but are actually wrong)

2. These objective moral truths are not grounded in the way the world is, but rather, in the way it ought to be (consider: should white supremacists succeed, taking over the world and eliminating all who don’t meet their criteria for being existence-worthy, their ideology would still be morally wrong. It would be true, in this hideous counterfactual, that the world ought not to be the way they have made it).

3. The world itself- the way it is, the laws of science that explain why it is that way-cannot account for the way the world ought to be.

4. The only way to account for morality is that God established morality (from 2 and 3)

5. God exists. 

Now while I prefer the brevity and clarity of other versions (for instance, William Lane Craig’s: 1. If God does not exist, objective moral values and duties do not exist. 2. Objective moral values and duties do exist. 3. God exists), nevertheless, this version still works. Certainly it is a valid argument, which means the conclusion follows from the premises. So to disprove it, Goldstein would have to disprove one of the premises. This she resolutely refuses to do. Instead she offers two irrelevant objections: 1. Euthyphro’s dilemma (which, since it was made 2,000 years ago by Plato, has been responded to by pretty much every major Christian thinker- see the previous Tolle Lege post entitled “Euthyphro’s Dilemma and The Problem of Theological Volunterism” by Brendan Woods) and 2. The historical wrongdoings of Christians and other religious people. Now it should be clear that neither of these objections even manages to address one of the premises of the argument. She claims that the historical sins of Christianity somehow refute premise four, but four is a philosophical statement about the proper metaphysical grounding for moral truth, not a historical claim about Christian behavior. 

And yet, despite these obvious flaws, her book has been praised in the atheist community as a paragon of atheist rationality. The tragic thing is that they are right: she probably is the one of the more rational champions atheists have today. It is a sad day for atheism, when Kant, Hume and Neitzshe are replaced by Goldstein, Hitchens, and Dennett. It’s a loss not only for atheists, but, in a way, for all of us.

“What, exactly, is ‘Christian art’?”

Bethany Mills ’10 poses this thoughtful question in her article, “Of Mystery and the Invisible: Understanding the Christian Artist.” As its title suggests, the piece explores the relationship between an artist’s faith and the work he or she produces. Countering the common characterization of Christian art as work containing only “explicitly Biblical subjects” (18), Mills identifies the influence of faith in the abstract paintings of Ben Frank Moss, Dartmouth Studio Art Professor and devoted Christian. In examining and interpreting his works, Mills offers a new definition of Christian art, describing it as art produced with the intent of seeking God and reflecting his vast creative power in “small acts of creation” (22). Mills concludes by emphasizing the importance of the “process of creation,” rather than the outcome, to the Christian artist pursuing God in his or her work (22).

One of Moss’ paintings

This discussion of art and faith continued yesterday morning during the Creative Arts panel of the Wheelock Conference. As a panelist, Moss himself confirmed many of the sentiments expressed in Mills’ article, emphasizing the indirect expression of faith through abstract art, as well as a “process” over “product” attitude. Pensive and soft-spoken, Moss carefully articulated components of his own creative process that reflect his faith. He sees his studio as a “sacred sanctuary” that carries an atmosphere of peace and reverence. It is here that he faces the sheer terror of a blank white canvas, and begins to blend a vast array of colors into arresting images reminiscent of landscapes and the natural world. Because Moss does not plan his paintings in advance, every moment of creation presses towards discovery of a greater, more beautiful, unknown. To Moss, painting is an act of communion with something beyond him. It comes as no surprise, then, that viewers have described his paintings as depicting “prayers.” Though acknowledging that no man has seen God, Moss described his work as an attempt to “pull back the curtain” and reveal some small piece of the beauty of the face of God.

Rather than expressing the themes currently popular in the art world, “the cynical” and “the ironic,” Moss yesterday stated that he paints what “preoccupies” him – light and life. Some have criticized his work as anachronistic, but its deviation from today’s common artwork gives it a unique flavor. Ultimately by remaining true to his purposes as a Christian artist – seeking and reflecting on God – Moss’s work is personal and affecting, a clear fruit of his “stillness and wonder” towards God. Moss’ relationship with God permeates his work as both an expression of self and a pursuit of the divine, revealing him as an important example of what it means to be both a Christian and an artist.

Mills, Bethany. “Of Mystery and the Invisible: Understanding the Christian Artist” The Dartmouth Apologia 3.1 (2009): 18-22. Print.

Earlier this week, I attended a lecture hosted by Dartmouth’s Appleton Professor of Natural Philosophy, Marcelo Gleiser. His talk was called “A Tear at the Edge of Creation: Cosmos, Life and the Search for a Final Theory,” which is also the title of his latest book. I am thinking of writing a more complete review of his book for Apologia, so I won’t go into great detail here, but I would like to address one point of his argument in this post. According to Professor Gleiser, when science examines the universe, it doesn’t find order and perfection. Instead, it finds that the existence of life and of the universe itself is due to asymmetries and accidents. But though there is no “big plan,” as Professor Gleiser puts it, for Earth or for humanity, this should not underscore our insignificance. Rather, Professor Gleiser ended his lecture with the conclusion that because intelligent life is so rare, our responsibility for preserving our environment and human life is that much greater.

In the question and answer period following the lecture, I asked Professor Gleiser how he reasoned from the rarity of intelligent life to the normative claim that it ought to be preserved.  Didn’t that assume that life was intrinsically good or valuable? This question actually elicited laughs from some people in the audience. Professor Gleiser answered, “Yes, I am assuming that life is intrinsically good.” I believe that this assumption reduces the majority of his lecture, which focused on the scientific evidence for an asymmetric universe, to irrelevancy with regard to his conclusion. His conclusion is justified on the basis of two assumed premises, and the rest of his talk was unnecessary for the conclusion that he reached:

1. Life is intrinsically good. (Assumption)

2. What is intrinsically good ought to be preserved. (Assumption)

3. Therefore, life ought to be preserved. (Conclusion)

On the other hand, Professor Gleiser could assume that what is rare ought to be preserved, but I doubt it. Polio is rare, but we don’t think that it ought to be preserved. Serial killers are rare, but they too are not a protected species. Rarity itself is not normally a criterion for preservation, so I will assume that he is arguing from the premise of life’s inherent goodness.

In any case, Professor Gleiser and his audience seem to have missed my implied criticism of his argument. I have found in other debates about morality, purpose, and value that Christians often come off as somehow denying the basic, fundamental values of society. It seems that by questioning why rape or murder are wrong or why we consider life to be intrinsically good, we are assumed to be rejecting these values. In reality, however, our purpose is simply to identify unjustified assumptions. Behind those assumptions is a society that is profoundly influenced by a religious or philosophical tradition that assumes those same positions. It is not as if these assumptions are visible by the light of nature or that they are undeniable. One could make the assumption that life is not intrinsically good or that murder is not objectively wrong, and it could be an equally logical, reasonable assumption. Some philosophical schools have assumed that life consists of suffering, or that it is better to die than to live—for example, in The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche writes that the best thing for a man is to die soon. Similarly, in the book of Ecclesiastes, Solomon writes that of all people, the stillborn child is the most to be envied. So one can assume things contrary to these notions, and many people have.

According to the view of the world that Professor Gleiser gave in his talk, all of life is accidental and purposeless. If there isn’t some higher purpose or meaning for conscious beings, however, it is certainly possible to conclude that on some level the world would be better off without them. The universe would be better off without conscious suffering, or indeed without suffering of any kind. Professor Gleiser’s conclusion that we have an obligation to preserve life and our planet is flawed if the only thing we have to offer to outbalance the suffering and bloodshed that we cause is achievements that are destined to be erased. In the end, even those achievements will become suffering as they are being torn from our grasp by the passing of time or by death. What the opponents of Christians in these debates need to realize is that Christians aren’t trying to reject these ideas. Rather, we are merely pointing out that it is inconsistent for our opponents to deconstruct our philosophical and religious foundations while continuing to assume the premises that belong to those traditions. Those who wish, like Professor Gleiser, to argue that life ought to be preserved, must logically justify the assumptions that they use to reach such a conclusion apart from the meaning and purpose that derives from belief in God.

In the Catholic tradition, we are still in the octave of Easter, which means that we are still celebrating liturgically the Resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ. In light of this continued celebration, I want to offer some thoughts on the Crucifixion and the Resurrection of Jesus. I think these events have become somewhat commonplace to us, raised as we were in a culture and civilization saturated with Christianity, but I think they are often misunderstood. It’s a good idea to take some time to truly reflect on their novelty and meaning.

 I have heard it said that grace is the distinguishing feature of Christianity. According to one story I’ve read a fair amount, even C.S. Lewis thought that. But I would (gasp) disagree with Lewis here. It does seem to me that Judaism and Islam contain some sort of notion of grace. All three religions of the book are profoundly aware of man’s distance from God and man’s need of help from God to bridge that distance. What I think is unique to Christianity is the Crucifixion and the Resurrection.

Pontius Pilate, saying his famous Ecce Homo (Behold the man)

Of course, there are pagan myths that talk about a dying and rising God, but, and here I think Lewis was correct, they were foreshadowings or intimations of the events that were to occur in Palestine in the 1st century A.D. The pagan myths were not presented as history, but the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Christ very much is and was. Right in the middle of the Nicene Creed, the Church in Her wisdom stuck the phrase “was crucified by Pontius Pilate.” This unnecessary insertion of another historical person’s name serves as a reminder of the true historicity of the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Christ, of the fact that the Church actually proclaims Christ’s dying and rising as an historical event. This is what makes Christianity unique: that it actually believes that the same God who created everything came to earth as man and while here suffered every possible kind of pain and poverty before dying in the most degrading way on a cross. Then, in some mysterious way, that death was overcome in the Resurrection of Christ three days later.

 The implications of these doctrines are enormous. I would just point to two. The first is that the Crucifixion shows us that suffering is redemptive. One can have all the abstract arguments one wants about how a loving God could permit suffering, but such a discussion is incomplete without a reference to the loving God who underwent suffering. Not just run of the mill suffering either, but profound and deep suffering, both physical and spiritual, to the point where He himself even felt abandoned by the Father (“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”). Moreover, as I recently had pointed out to me, Christ’s wounds didn’t heal. After he was raised, He still had the wounds in His body. That’s how deeply He, God made man, suffered. 

 And yet because, when He was in the midst of the deepest possible agony and pain, He offered up His suffering to the Father as a sacrifice for our sins, His suffering had meaning. We are all going to suffer in this life, one way or another, no matter what we believe. But if Christianity is true, then that suffering need not be senseless. There is no such thing as senseless suffering after the Cross. If we offer our pain up to the Father in union with Christ’s offering our suffering attains purpose and meaning. God suffered in solidarity with us and through it suffering became redemptive. That’s the first implication of the Holy Week that strikes me. 

 The second is that, in the end, evil, pain, suffering, and death do not have the last say. In popular movies, good always wins. In life, however, it doesn’t always seem to work that way, much as we wish it did. However, what the Resurrection, if true, tells us is that no matter how dark and depressing life seems, how complete the victory of evil appears to us, there’s still more to the story. To Christ’s followers, His death, the death of the Messiah, was the most tragic event possible. But that tragedy was not the end of the story, because on the third day he rose again. By his Resurrection, Christ teaches us to remember in our worst hours that goodness and love has won and will win in the end. 

 In the last book of the Lord of the Rings, Frodo, waking after the ring has been destroyed, has the following conversation with Gandalf: “‘Gandalf! I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue? What’s happened to the world?’ ‘A great Shadow has departed,’ said Gandalf, and then he laughed and the sound was like music, or like water in a parched land.” The message of the Resurrection is truly that, in an important way, everything sad has come untrue.

Happy Easter! Christ is Risen!

“When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb and they asked each other, ‘Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?’

But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed. ’Don’t be alarmed,’ he said. ‘You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here.’ Mark 16: 1-6.