You are not the prisoners of context. You are not the prisoners of your own bodies. You don't have to be.

You can transcend this interaction. You can transcend stimulus-response. You can transcend your impulses and urges.

Set yourselves free. You have the key to your attitude. How will you confront the world? How will you defend yourself from the onslaught of circumstance?

You have the power to change. You have the power to stop. You have the power to start over. Will you allow yourselves the opportunity to become something greater than yourself?

Christians say that Jesus died for your sins. What exactly did Jesus change? Did he change the environment? Did he change the laws of genetics? Did he stop complexity arising from simplicity?

How did you and I get here? We evolved. To such great hands does the creator of the Universe entrust its creation! Our current state is the direct result of doing whatever we could to survive.

Fighting, fear and fate. These are the masters of billions of years of natural selection. We have been engineered to survive. You have been engineered to become amoral beings. To be or not to be.

That is the sole moral law of our universe. Every act you consider good is only designed to ensure a fair chance of survival. Every wrong you do is wrong because it hurts another survivor. What's the difference?

Everyone wants to survive. What's fair to me is what I could get in my position if I were you. It's easy to deny someone else. It's preferable to look out for number one. Let me repeat: to be or not to be is the moral law.

However, you are not the hostage of fortune. This is the good news. You can be better by cooperating. You can transcend your fortune. You can defy fate. You can master probability. Do you want to transcend your own mere survival?

We can create a better legacy. You do not have to be controlled by your environment. You do not have to be consumed by your urges and impulses. You each have the ability to question everything you do. Inquiry is the ultimate path to transcendence.

______________________

This post found inspiration in Muse's song "Uprising" and in The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins.

Earlier today, Demian Farnworth, author of the blog Fallen and Flawed, sent me a link to this podcast from Christian apologist Dr. William Lane Craig.

Tonight, I will be live-blogging my reactions to Dr. Craig's commentary, having never heard this podcast before. Let's see how this goes.

Question: It seems like more and more Christian apologists are leaving the faith and actively promoting atheism on the Internet. What do you think? Further, is it really possible to leave the faith for intellectual rather than emotional reasons?

Dr. Craig: You could say that the increasing number of people leaving the faith who have studied apologetics is simply a function of the increasing number of people who are studying apologetics.

Other Host: I think we have to look at in on a case-by-case basis. Could someone leave the faith for any intellectual reasons, or is it emotional?

Dr. Craig: I think it's for moral reasons, frankly...I say that not on the basis of case studies or investigations, but on the basis of what Scripture says.

Me: Whoa, I was with you up until then. You haven't done any case studies, you haven't done any investigations - you don't have any stories or rumors. Just Scripture...not very convincing.

Dr. Craig: Scripture says that if you inculcate godliness into your character, you will not fail [emphasis mine].

Me: 'The Scripture says'. I've read entirely too many deconversion accounts where people have specifically related that losing their faith was the last thing they ever wanted to do, that they wanted to serve their God but just could no longer believe. 'The Scripture says' isn't doing it for me, because unlike Dr. Craig, I actually have read up on "case studies".

Dr. Craig: This is why Christian apologists must make sure that we're keeping our lives clean and pure and holy before God.

Me: Fine. But you honestly think every other person who ever deconverted didn't try that? That's the great thing about defending Christianity: it's so difficult that no one can reasonably be expected to live it, so easy that you can get a child to do it.

Dr. Craig: I think, ultimately, that no one either fails to come to faith or falls away from faith due to intellectual difficulties alone. Ultimately, it's a spiritual matter about the orientation of that person's heart, and whether that person truly wants God and is open to God, or whether that person is closing God out of his heart and mind.

The Other Host and Dr. Craig: Some other stuff about Paul.

Dr. Craig: Some of these Christian apologists who have fallen away will often be very open about the moral difficulties which have led to their falling away: immorality, pornography, adultery"

Other Host: It's pretty easy to get burned out...so the last thing we want to do is to start taking a hardened stance towards people.

Me: That sounds like fairly good advice to me for any profession.

Dr. Craig: Another danger is becoming too cerebral...Alvin Plantinga, his book talks about how because of sin we love ourselves instead of God...the Holy Spirit helps repair that and help us respond emotionally to God and love Him. And if we ignore that side of our personality, then we can become dry and burned out.

Other Host: Sometimes people need just a human touch.

Me: Again, that sounds like good advice.

Dr. Craig: I think when you look at the some of the narratives of those who have left the faith, you will find a bitterness and a disappointment with those in the Christian Church because people did not come along side of them and help them when they were going through their time of struggle.

Me: And that's pretty much the end of the discussion on that subject.

Dr. Craig is clearly sincere about his beliefs. When presented with the potential problem of people who shared the same beliefs as Dr. Craig and no longer believe what he believes - it's only natural that Dr. Craig should find a way to reconcile his opinion that he has correct beliefs with evidence that contradicts his beliefs. By dismissing those accounts, which very obviously contradict his beliefs if he grants that some of the people who've deconverted may have done so for intellectual reasons, he's reaffirmed his beliefs from doubt. Once one begins the path of 'there may be intellectual reasons against my belief', one's priority is going to be critical thinking, and one is going to end up questioning one's beliefs.

Of course, there are plenty of religious people who are good critical thinkers. But the beliefs of Dr. Craig clearly have the most important place in his life, subordinating all other interests and motivations. Intellectual reasons for deconversion? No way. It can't be. Get out of here. There must be some other reason for this incident - they must have sinned or something, or maybe they were never Christians in the first place? It's easy to rationalize, and in the end, that's what I think this process is.

When sincere religious believers such as Dr. Craig become aware that other people around them no longer share their beliefs, there's some tension that has to be resolved. If the belief is correct, then logically people wouldn't leave the faith for intellectual reasons. If people may have left for intellectual reasons, then the faith may not be all it's cracked up to be, and that's clearly an unacceptable option for Dr. Craig and for many others who present similar arguments about the true nature of ex-Christians.

Hello again, dear readers! I apologize for the extended layoff, but I have been terribly busy lately. Today's topic concerns the relationship between religious values and morality.

I have envisioned a brief analysis of religion and morality as a casual, but animated, conversational dialogue. I imagine that such a conversation may develop between two close friends, Q and A. Our pal Q is a theist (he or she could be a Jew, a Muslim, or a Christian - it doesn't matter) while A happens to be a non-theist.

Q: It's incomprehensible to me how an atheist could have an explanation for morality.

A: Why so?

Q: Well, I've always believed that there must be some form of absolute morality, and that God is the best explanation for our sense of right and wrong. This seems especially likely to be the case in light of the arguments of famous defenders of the faith such as C.S. Lewis and William Lane Craig.

A: I think it's highly unlikely that God's morality is absolute. Doesn't the god of the Bible say that it's wrong to murder, yet even in books such as--

Q: --Allow me to interject. Do you believe in right and wrong? If I ask you about slavery, do you believe it is wrong? If I ask you about rape, do you believe it is wrong? If I ask you about theft, do you believe that is wrong?

The bottom line is that we all agree that certain things are just wrong, yet why should we agree to this if there is no objective morality in place?

A: You're asking me why we should agree that slavery and rape and theft are wrong?

Q: Yes.

A: Well, first of all, you're asking me whether we agree. Don't you think that if there were an absolute morality, you wouldn't have to ask me whether I agreed? In that case, wouldn't I just know that they're wrong?

Q: But don't you agree that they're wrong?

A: I do. But it's not because I believe that any god said so.

Q: Then if there is no god watching over you, if there is no ultimate moral standard, then who can tell you not to run out into the street and rape, steal, or kill? Who can tell you that it's not okay to cheat on your wife or your taxes?

A: I think you're finally beginning to understand what I'm trying to say. Who can tell me that it's not okay to cheat on my taxes? Who can tell me that it's not okay to rape or kill or defraud someone?

Q: Are you going to answer my questions, or are you just being cute with me?

A: No, I'm going to answer your questions directly. Allow me to elaborate.

Let's pretend that you have a group of agents in one place. All of them can benefit if they take something away from the others, but none of the others benefit if something is taken away from them. Wouldn't it be the most beneficial for all of the agents if everyone could have security for themselves and their possessions?

Societies decide on what is moral or immoral. Societies are built upon a foundation of respect, trust, and empathy.

If your husband or wife catches you cheating, he or she is going to lose that trust, and your relationship will deteriorate. If the government catches you cheating on your taxes, you'll go to jail -- if you aren't caught, then there will be less money to pay for things like national defense and road construction and social security, and if everybody acts like that, then the relationship of the country will deteriorate. If individuals don't cooperate, everyone suffers.

Do you really need a god to tell you that people will get hurt if you're selfish or rash or cruel? Do you really need a god to tell you that peoples' lives will be improved significantly over the long run if they would only cooperate?

Q: I'm afraid you're missing the forest for the trees. What if the majority of individuals liked or enjoyed rape? Would you still say that it's moral? Wouldn't you still say that it's morally wrong?

A: If there were a society that approved of rape, then perhaps that would be a difficult dilemma. But how likely is it that a society which widely approves of rape can survive or flourish?

Q: How naive you are. Do you realize that patriarchal societies throughout history have engaged in and even justified spousal rape under the law? Here's a case where most of the people in a society see no problem with something, the society is not negatively affected because of this something, and yet you still would hesitate to say that you are not morally opposed to this something.

A: You're right; just because something survives or flourishes doesn't make it fair or just.

Q: Ah ha, fair and just! You're using the vocabulary of absolute morality. How do you have any idea what is fair or what is just? Aren't you arguing that fairness and justice evolve along with the societies in which they develop? You have no justification to say that something isn't fair or isn't just because you have no consistent standard to say what it is that makes something fair or just in the first place.

A: You're right, again. Racial minorities and women and religious minorities and those of differing sexual orientations than the majority have struggled to obtain rights and are still struggling to obtain rights today. How far have we come in discerning what is fair or just, and how far must we go?

Q: How far? Not only are you avoiding my questions now, but you're also just bringing more and more difficulties for your position in this discussion. You can't analyze the past and discern whether something that happened then was moral or immoral unless you have a consistent, absolute standard of morality.

A: Humanity has developed different moral ideas such as justice, empathy, fairness, and loyalty. As we learn more about the universe around us and the reality of our existence, our knowledge about ourselves and about our world increases. As our quantity and quality of information increases, so does our potential opportunity to reflect upon what is fair and just.

When we are able to observe species in nature that have same-sex relationships, we gain more evidence that neither homosexuality nor bisexuality is a choice, but rather something inherent in the nature of certain individuals. When women have more choices outside the framework of their traditional roles as mothers and caretakers, we gain more evidence that women are not inferior to men. When DNA confirms that all human beings originated from the same ancestry, we gain more evidence that there is nothing superior about any one race over any other race.

Humanity's ability to learn more information about our world gives us new ways and new perspectives on what fairness and justice mean. Our circle of empathy expands; our horizon of moral concern is broadened by the new ways in which our lives are interconnected and intertwined. It has become increasingly difficult for humans to sink into their tribal tendencies and neglect those found to be outside the immediate circle of acquaintances, for we human beings have found more and more that our fate is interdependent on the fates of our fellow creatures. There is no nation, no tribe, no race, and no language that can unify or dominate our world - there is no nation, no tribe, no race and no language that can stand alone and take care of itself alone.

Our evolving morality is largely a product of two trends: our inherent moral intuitions which have evolved for the cooperation of our societies, and the ways in which our existence has been changed by technological discoveries - these two elements have combined to shift our moral compass and provide us with new perspectives on the meanings of old notions like fairness and justice. The underlying concepts are the same - the basic cooperative qualities which compel a society's attention have not changed - but the ways in which we perceive each other as a collection of overlapping societies has indeed changed. Our broader moral outlook is a function of the manner in which our way of perceiving ourselves as human beings has changed.

Q: That certainly sounds impressive, at first. You've argued that certain moral concepts develop in an inherently natural fashion because they advantage the development of complex societies, and that an increasing level of understanding between human beings emerging through new technology has also continued to expand the arc of human moral concern. However, how do you get people to accept this morality? Why should I listen to you?

A: That's a great question - I think you are getting this after all!

Before you ask, no, I am not pulling your leg. Let me explain.

Organized religion is a political system which expedites the acceptance of commonly held moral conventions by the masses. Adherence to the dominant religion of a society is an acknowledgment that one accepts the shared moral code of his or her peers. Religion is a system of political values which distills the accepted mores of the day and disincentivizes free riding from those agreements -- put more simply, religion punishes, or threatens to punish, those who do not pull their fair share.

Of course, we have both agreed that the commonly shared values of individual societies shift greatly and vary widely over time and place. The development and evolution of the dozens of widely embraced branches of the three major monotheistic religions is a prime example of this variation between evolving political values.

Thus, your claim that religion is the safeguard of absolute morality is false, because organized religions are almost exclusively interdependent with the majority views of the societies in which they develop.

Therefore, the paradox of theistic morality is this: while most theistic apologists claim assertively and vigorously that their religion is the safeguard of absolute morality, one of the major reasons that religious apologists abhor non-adherence of their religion is because of their fear that the non-absolute moral agreements of society will collapse if enough individuals dissent from the non-absolute "absolute morality" which is the paradigm of the particular time and place inhabited by said religious apologists.

This is the story of my deconversion from Christianity. I originally posted this account on the Forum of the blog "Unreasonable Faith". I hope you'll enjoy it.

I have been raised as a Christian, having attended services for most of my life at a small ELCA Lutheran congregation. I was baptized as a baby, and I was confirmed around the time I entered high school. I attended Sunday school, Bible studies, and church camps. I sang in the choir and I was an acolyte, usher, and greeter.

However, despite my active involvement in the church, I had not thought much about the basic essentials of my beliefs. I had read large portions of the Bible (I still haven't gotten myself to read it all - I've been meaning to do it), and I prayed often, but while I grew up, I was never confronted by any serious challenges to my perspective. I had friends who went to other churches, but I didn't really know anyone who was non-religious. I had this default assumption that there was a God, and that most of things I had been told in church were true.

I was never really one to question authority, and I enjoyed church greatly, and I had a lot of friends there at first. I wish I had a higher voice so I could sing "I Wander As I Wonder" in the proper key. That hymn is eerie, and that is why it was always one of my favorites.

Many things happened to me when I was in junior high and high school. Several rifts developed in my church, attendance lowered, and we had some pastoral changes. I also first learned that some of my friends were atheists or agnostics. It actually shocked me at first -- I grew in a fairly conservative community. Every time I drive on the highway, I spy a large billboard which declares "Trust In The LORD With All Your Heart". I thought to myself, 'atheist?! I don't believe that.'

But I didn't really know them that well, so I shrugged it off.

When I was a junior in high school, one of my closer friends let me know that he is an atheist when we were discussing religion. I started debating (casually) with him and his friends about religion during our study hall period. I was the Christian, and there were two others who were atheists.

Some of the questions he asked made me reflect for a bit, but I wasn't very phased. I didn't have a literal interpretation of the Bible, and I accepted evolution, so we actually agreed on a lot. I wasn't affected by a lot of the arguments he used in the areas that we agreed. However, looking back on the experience, I think if my friends had spent more time on how those points specifically apply to religion, I would've been more receptive. But I also realize that they didn't want to push me too hard, because we were friends, and they didn't want to ruin our friendship, which I also appreciate and understand.

He did ask me why God would create homosexuality and condemn it in the Bible? I didn't know - I was unsure. I didn't think he would. My friend referenced Leviticus, and I pretty much ignored it, I have to admit. I could've been more open-minded.

He also wanted to know if I didn't take the Bible literally, how did I *know* which parts were metaphorical and which were not? I gave an answer I had already heard, that the Holy Spirit guides the believer in the interpretation of the Bible. If I were my friend now, I would've emphasized the divisions in church history. I do remember that my friend emphasized the corruption of certain church leaders, but I always brushed these criticisms away by saying that God's church was for imperfect people, as everything human in this world was imperfect. Maybe I would've been more receptive if he had argued specifically that the existence of so many divisions on interpretation and meaning of scriptures, which accord with cultural practices, makes it supremely unlikely that the texts are divinely inspired. However, that is a complicated argument and hard to fit into a 25-minute study hall period, and I know that when atheists talk to Christians, the harder they argue, the more militant or harsh they seem. I know this can be the case, so I can again understand why my friend didn't press me harder, and I do appreciate his willingness to put our friendship ahead of mere ideological differences.

When I was a senior, my English teacher exposed me to existentialism - I started reading Camus and Sartre. However, I maintained that this was fully compatible with my Christianity, and in retrospective, I don't think that this was a contributing factor to my deconversion.

I also began reading a lot of Vonnegut when I was in high school. I read Player Piano, Cat's Cradle, Slaughterhouse Five, and Slapstick. Those are all excellent, and I also read Vonnegut's brief essay autobiography, the title of which I cannot recall. I <3 Billy Pilgrim! But I hated the ending of Cat's Cradle - I despised it. It was so irredeemably depressing and gloomy. Somehow, Slapstick was the most amusing and intriguing book of the four, though it seems to be the least popular and the least well-known. There are many excerpts about tribal and community ties which really hit home what it means to be part of a group of people with the same feelings and the same beliefs. I think that book did lay some of the groundwork for my later epiphanies.

Finally, last year I was a freshmen in college. The summer before I left, I had to arrange a schedule of coursework. I was trying to fill my schedule with general education requirement classes, and I wanted to take World Politics very badly. Instead, my counselor stuck me with Forms of the Sacred, a class on Eastern religion. This would prove to be quite fateful.

The second or third week of school, we also had an activities fair. I was out walking after lunch one day, and I strolled along the path in the main common area to visit the booths for all of the clubs on campus.

I spied a banner for a non-religious group. Intrigued, I stumbled over to the display, and asked the volunteer about the nature of the club. I was told that this was a new club for discussing religion, which would primarily be focused on atheists and agnostics. Since I had discussed religion with my friends in high school, I added my information to the mailing so I could stay in contact with the club.

So two or three weeks afterward, I am sitting in my religion class, nonchalantly scribbling notes. We're talking Hinduism, and my professor is going off on a tangent. My ears perked up. The tangents were what made that class - I loved my professor's sense of humor and offbeat commentary.

So anyway, he's talking about all of the different religions in the East, and how they relate, and he casually lets out that some scholars speculated that there might be a link between the proto-religions of the East and some of the western religions. Normally, that would just be an interesting tidbit, a typically inane musing which may fascinate those students who are paying attention.

But that careless slight, that unintended observation -- it struck me. I really had an existential crisis. I felt a surge of doubt paralyze me at that very moment; thoughts of "what if this (my beliefs that I had grown up with) isn't true??!!"

"What if this isn't true?!"

Doubt. I was struck by doubt. Nagging, overwhelming, unceasing, terrifying doubt.

I suddenly realized that I had no idea why I believed what I did.

That was the beginning - that was the day I quit believing in "faith".

And of course, one of the first ever meetings of the atheists and agnostics organization was scheduled later that very week. So I went, not knowing what would happen. All I knew was uncertainty.

So I went. The chairs were arranged in a circular fashion. One of the first things that occurred, since everyone was just getting to know each other, was that each individual in the circle was supposed to say a little bit about themselves: what year they were in, where they were from, something cool about themselves, and if they were an atheist or agnostic, when they became one.

I was one of the last people to be reached, so I got to hear almost everyone else's accounts first.

I was quite nervous at that moment, I must admit. I really didn't know what to say -- I hadn't really reached out to anyone by that point. When I first told my Catholic roommate that I was going to go to the meeting, he looked at me with suspicion because I had already told him that summer that I was a Christian. I told him that I was a Christian, but that I was going anyway because I was interested in the group.

It was sort of a fib. I wasn't sure anymore if I was a Christian or not, because of the doubt that I was experiencing at that time.

Finally, it was my turn to speak. I related my year, where I was from, my hobbies, and my name. Then I stammered something like this:

"Well, I'm not really sure what I believe right now. I was raised as a Christian, but since I've gone to college..."

My brain fizzled. What was I going to say?

"I think my faith has..."

I couldn't say anymore, but I took my hand and made a downwards motion.

In the days before the meeting, I had begun to do some additional research about religion, and I continued this after I returned from the meeting.

Every time I examined my old beliefs, they made less and less sense to me.

The Bible seemed incomprehensible to me. I started asking a lot more questions about it that I couldn't answer. The evidence for a historical Jesus who did the things the Bible claimed was less than I would have liked to believe (I had never actually thought about whether he actually had existed and did the things the Gospels said he did.) It seemed there was too much cruelty and suffering in the world. Evolution and naturalism seemed to be performing spectacularly. Christianity was failing miserably. Everywhere I turned, it appeared that the answer could be better explained if there were no all-good, all-loving, interventionary god.

Finally, there was one particular area that seemed to be the nail in the coffin for my prior religious beliefs.

All the other religions in the world. I had heard Krishna call for grace - I had heard Buddha call for compassion in the wake of suffering - I had heard creation stories which sounded more plausible than the ones I heard growing up. "There was a time when there was neither nothing, nor something". That's a real creation story.

Frankly, Christianity became just another religion, just another faith, and just another mythology. People who believed in other religions seemed to be just as moral as Christians. People who were Christian based their moral ideas on the same principles that non-Christian people used.

And almost all of the so-called religious experiences claimed were more similar than they were different, no matter what the religion.

I remember reading of Near Death Experiences where Native Americans saw a vision of a great chief, where some Hindus saw a great bureaucracy in the sky, and Christians saw heaven and hell.

And even if that weren't enough, I began reading about neuroscience. I became convinced that there is no such entity as the soul. If I needed yet another nail in the coffin, that was definitely it.

The experiments demonstrate that when the brain is harmed, all of the things which have traditionally been identified with the soul are damaged.

What is the soul? Isn't the soul the essence of who you are? And what is the essence of who you are? When the brain is damaged, the essence of who you are changes irrevocably. So when the brain is damaged, is your soul damaged, or is your soul the brain? But we know what happens to the brain when you die -- it rots. So much for the after-life? How can you have a soul to be judged without the brain? It's not plausible.

Lastly, I was already an agnostic atheist for many months before I read "The Evolution of God", but it really cemented many of the conclusions which I had already reached. The evidence which emerges from the sections about political influences on the Old Testament, why the Israelites came out of Canaan and not out of Egypt, and why Paul sold Christianity the way he did in the days of the early faith really make it difficult for me to revert to Christianity or any religion similar to it.

I am an agnostic atheist. I believe that most, if not all, of the gods ever worshiped by humanity are implausible. I do not know if there are ultimately any gods or higher powers. However, I live as if there are none.

Even if there are gods or higher powers in or outside of the universe, I believe that I am living more deeply in communion with them by not adopting a set of beliefs which I am 99% sure are false, and by trying my best to live a moral life based on empathy and respect.

I know that I have prattled on at great length, but I thank all of you for sharing in my journey and my experiences. Thank you.

Here's a thought experiment:

"Sin is the fault of humanity, but it had to be that way, and fortunately, we still have free will.

How do I know this to be true?

Well, for hundreds of millions of years, various animals and plants endured enormous levels of suffering before humanity existed. So it is difficult to claim that the direct actions of humanity are responsible for suffering in our world. However, one could say that suffering was predetermined for humanity. Essentially, it must then be our fault that the suffering of the world was predetermined for us. So everything's our fault (even if it's not), and we still have free will (even if we don't). Christianity makes complete sense."

Obviously, I'm being sarcastic here.

We can now determine that there was never a Paradise - that there was never an Eden - and that the "original sin" of humanity is merely our own existence in an indifferent universe. Sure, Christian tradition can try to pin the blame on a species which only arrived on Earth during the most recent instant of geologic time, but the growing evidence across nearly all disciplines of science can easily refute such a bold and unsupported assertion.

How can I prove that the only reason a god would permit evil is to bring about some other end? How can I know that this is not the only possible world that it is feasible for a god to create? I most likely cannot fully prove either of these things to you; what I may be able to demonstrate adequately is the incoherence of Christian dogma when its doctrines are contrasted with the harsh, vivid realities of our existence.

I apologize for the length of time which has elapsed since Part One. Thank you for waiting!

I received a phone call when I was at home several days later from the pastor of the church which handed me the brochure about Jesus.

I struggled to think of something coherent to say to the preacher on the other end of the line. Here I was, talking to him directly. What was I going to say? Was I going to make a fool of myself?

I told the pastor that I had been handed the glossy bulletin, that I had read it, and that I decided to call the included number to discuss some questions I had about the information in the brochure.

For my first question I stammered, "What does your church think about the Bible?"

He relayed to me the teachings on Biblical inerrancy: that everything in the Bible is truth, and that the Bible is internally consistent. The preacher also mentioned that his church exclusively uses the King James Version of the Bible.

I asked him why the church uses the King James Version? He replied that the King James Version used direct translation from the "original" languages of the Bible. I did not proceed further with this because I am not knowledgeable enough about the history of the Biblical documents to contend with his claims.

Another angle which my conversant preacher had emphasized about the Bible was that it contains God's messages. It was given to humans, but God had written it ahead of time, so the Bible was God's perfect word to humanity.

I decided to ask the pastor about certain tenets of Biblical morality. I discussed certain acts of genocide and crime in the world today: Serbia/Kosovo, Rwanda, etc.

Did he agree that these acts were wrong? Yes, he did.

I then cited the book of Joshua: the slaughter of the various tribes of Canaan whom the Israelites supposedly displaced.

If the Bible condones an act of terror that we agree is untenable, then why should I follow its teachings as a moral guide?

The preacher directly informed me that the slaughter of these peoples was really the work of God, not the Israelites, and that they were really evil, anyway.

I asked the pastor, "If God told you to murder someone, would you do it?"

He retorted that he would never murder someone, but if God murdered someone, he would understand why God did it.

Just as God slaughtered many of the Canaanites for their immoral ways, God could similarly "send judgment" to many Americans today for the current state of our immoral society.

But the bottom line, the preacher reasserted, is that Jesus saved us, and God sent the Bible to us. The real important point is whether I believe that or not.

"Do you believe in God?" he stated sharply.

"I don't know," I answered.

"You don't know? But the Bible is God's Word!" the pastor responded. "This book talks about Jesus and why he came, so Jesus was either telling the truth or he was a liar. Do you believe what the Bible says about Jesus?"

"What if the people who wrote the Bible made up the stuff that Jesus said?" I inquired.

(My query was ignored and previous assertions were repeated.)

"How can you not believe the Bible?" he asked incredulously. "It contains the words of Jesus. Do you believe them?"

"I could write a book about President Obama and say that he said something, but that doesn't mean he said it," I retorted.

My acquaintance was not amused by that comment. He abruptly ended the conversation.

"Look, if you don't understand this about the Bible, I can't even talk to you."

I thanked the preacher for the discussion, and hung up the phone.

Maybe I should've used some other analogy besides Barack Obama...my second thought was Harry Potter...never mind.

Some conversations are doomed to futility.

I was working in the sun last week, trying to finish pulling weeds from my neighbors' lawn before the start of a thunderstorm, when a man came up to me and started a conversation.

"Hi there, I see you are a Reds fan, too?"

I was sporting a Cincinnati Reds baseball caps. In fact, I do happen to root for the Redlegs. Last summer, I was fortunate enough to catch Jay Bruce's debut against the Pittsburgh Pirates.

The man introduced himself - let's call him "Jim" - and he said that he lived down the street. He told about his experiences as a young Reds fan growing up in Cincinnati during the era of the Big Red Machine - when Pete Rose, Davey Concepcion, and Johnny Bench proudly strode the environs of Crosley Field.

It was a normal conversation until the man pulled a brochure from his pocket and handed it to me - that's when the realization struck, that he was proselytizing me.

He stated that he didn't know if I had a church home, but let me know that I was welcome to attend his Baptist church. I thanked the neighbor, and stuffed the bulletin into my pants' pocket, eager to finish my work before the rain came down.

I didn't want to harass him about religion - being a former Christian, I know what nerves it takes to talk to a stranger about your church. Anyway, he wasn't too pushy, so I was willing to give him some leeway. I thought that it would be rude to argue with this guy on the street.

After I drove home and put my equipment away, I opened the brochure and inspected its contents. It contained a somewhat typical message about sin and Jesus, redemption and the wages of death. Pretty standard stuff - things I would've heard about, if I had still been in the church I had attended for the previous 18 years.

Then I spied a phone number, denoted with the following inscription:

"Have any questions about the Bible? We'd love to hear from you!"

Being the curious kind of guy that I am, I punched the church's number into my cell phone. I had to leave a message - I let it be known that I had received a tract and that I had some questions about its contents. I asked if it was possible that someone could call me back and that I could speak with someone about the brochure.

That was about a week ago. For a description of what happened when my call from the church was returned yesterday, please wait for (Part Two). Thanks!

Can you imagine the color blue? Do you know what it looks like? Have you experienced it? Is it meaningful to you? Do you see it all around you?

Can you imagine exuberance? Do you know what it looks like? Have you experienced it? Is it meaningful to you? Do you know how it feels? Do you see it all around you?

What if you were color-blind, to emotion? What if you couldn’t feel that sense of connection: that spark, that vividness of experience?

When I notice my friends’ care-free celebrations, their quiet joy, their loud anticipation of pleasurable sensation, I feel blank. I notice a void: there is a lull where the storm should be, and there is a shattering where there should be calm.

I stretch my arms and flex my muscles: here I am. But why don’t I feel like everyone else does? Why do I have the sensation of dis-ease? Why is my life so awkward and unwieldy?

I wish that I could live in the present: I wish that I could forget about everything and just live for once. Sometimes I am depressed, but I don’t want to die; I merely want to live as if I am alive.

I don’t laugh because I have some insight that others do not; I laugh because I realize that I may never understand.

Marc Schooley, author of the The Areopagus, (who also comments as MS Quixote) argues adamantly in a post on his blog that the Euthyphro Dilemma advances theism. MS Quixote referenced this argument during a discussion on the reasons why people are theists or atheists at the blog Daylight Atheism.

I intend to present a comprehensive case as to why the Euthyphro Dilemma advances atheism, but to do this, I must substantively and seriously address the reasons given by MS Quixote as to why he believes the Euthyphro Dilemma advances theism. This is my goal, and I intend to demonstrate my case thoroughly and convincingly.

First, I must commend MS Quixote for his well-written and well-argued critique of ED. I recommend his summary of ED and the surrounding controversies to anyone who desires to obtain a solid understanding of what exactly the dilemma is, and what is meant by it, when both theists and atheists refer to it.

Because MS Quixote has done such an excellent job covering the historic origins of the Euthyphro Dilemma and the traditional use of ED by atheists, I will not delve into those sections of his essay here. I hope that my readers of this entry will already have some knowledge of the dilemma, and if they don't, I recommend MS Quixote's summary of it, because he does a much better job of summarizing it then I could have done.

Let's cut right to the meat of this discussion: Quixote's critiques of the dilemma.

MS Quixote asserts that:

Another nemesis of the dilemma is the tertium quid, the third option. If a viable third option is presented, the dilemma is rightly deemed a false dilemma. The dilemmas above appear to be true dilemmas; there do not appear to be other alternatives to dead/alive and pregnant/not pregnant. However, if a dilemma states that children like either football or baseball, it is rather simple to provide other options, say, basketball. Thus, the dilemma is defeated. This is commonly referred to as “passing through the horns of the dilemma.”

Lastly, one may “grasp the horns of the dilemma.” If it may be shown that one or both of the premises of a dilemma is false, the dilemma is successfully defeated. With ED, the theist is able to both pass through the horns and grasp them.

So, is the theist really able to both pass through the horns of the Euthyphro Dilemma and grasp them? This is the bedrock of MS Quixote's argument: if I cannot demonstrate that his arguments (which purport to demonstrate that the theist can pass through and grasp the horns of the ED) are invalid, then I cannot state that MS Quixote is incorrect when he claims that the ED argues for theism rather than atheism.

MS Quixote's first step is to demonstrate that the Euthyphro Dilemma is, in fact, a false dilemma, by presenting a viable alternative, a third option, in addition to the two horns of the Dilemma as summarized:

The first horn of the dilemma—Is good willed by God because it is good—locates the good independently of God. The good is conceived of as some standard or other that God recognizes in determining what is good. If this state of affairs obtains, God is subservient to standard independent of his eternal being; there is at least one entity He is not sovereign over. Moreover, he becomes the mere messenger of goodness. Admittedly, this position is untenable for Christian theists.

The second horn of the dilemma—or is it good because it is willed by God—tends to render the commands of God arbitrary. The ED proponent argues with this horn that God could have just as well commanded rape and murder as goods, and that they are evils is only at the whim of God’s command. Furthermore, under the second horn, often referred to as Divine Command Ethics (DCT), it is difficult to make informative claims about Gods goodness, if goodness is solely based upon what God says it is. What does it then mean to say that God is good?

While acknowledging that both horns of the original dilemma are untenable for Christianity, MS Quixote presents his third option:

The first philosophic move of the theist is to pass through the horns of the ED by locating the Good as the nature of God. In effect, the theist answers the dilemma by saying “neither.” Hence, the theist claims that the good is not independent of God, as posited by horn one, nor is the good commanded by God, as claimed by horn two. In effect, a tertium quid is presented: God’s nature is the paradigm of goodness. God’s nature is the good.

Ah ha, the ED is clearly bunk, then! So we're finished, right?

Not necessarily.

As MS Quixote aptly recognizes, many proponents of the Euthyphro Dilemma are not prepared to accept this alternative as an answer to the dilemma. In fact, these critics argue that this framing only moves the dilemma one step farther back:

ED is re-erected around the theist’s contention that God’s nature is the good: Is God’s goodness good in relation to some independent standard, or it is good because God’s character is good? The former presents the same problem as the first horn of the original dilemma, the latter, the same problem as the second horn of the original dilemma which again seems arbitrary or whimsical. After all, God’s character could have been anything.

MS Quixote responds that those critics who reply to his offered alternative with this response fail to understand exactly what he really means with his third option:

Theists generally consider the reformulation of the dilemma a clear indicator that the ED supporter has misunderstood the theist contention that God’s nature is the good. Note, the theist objection does not say that God’s nature is good; it says that God’s nature is the good.

The ED supporter has attempted to establish an infinite regress with the reformulation of the dilemma; however, the theist response precludes this outcome by positing God’s nature as a metaphysical ultimate, a brute fact of existence. Brute facts are explanatory propositions that require or admit no explanation themselves.

So God's goodness is a brute fact of existence. But wait, God's nature isn't good; it is the good, according to MS Quixote.

So how we can call God "good" if we have no standard for what is "good"? If "the good" is defined as God's nature, then anything that is God's nature is "the good". But God could be entirely malevolent, and since it is his nature, then complete malevolence is "the good". For who are the pots to question the potter? God can smash all of them if he wants, err, if that's his nature.

And why not? What's preventing God from being completely malevolent? And how do we know that if there is a God, that he isn't entirely malevolent? If God's nature is "the good", and we cannot define "the good" apart from God's nature, then how can we ascribe any qualities at all to this nebulous concept known as "the good"?

If we agree with MS Quixote's definition of "the good", then we now have no coherent standard for whether something is good or evil. In fact, good and evil become meaningless and obsolete; things are either part of "the good" or they are not part of "the good". God's nature defines what is "the good". And those who speak in the name of God get to define what is God's nature!

"Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities." - Voltaire