Sunday, April 10, 2011

Krauss, Kagan, & Sam Harris vs. William Lane Craig: General thoughts on the Debates

I don’t know, but it seems to me that Krauss offered a lot of good solid information. Meanwhile, WLC just stuck to his guns and did what he always does, spout off orthodox Evangelical conviction with that ever annoying constant appeal to authority. I mean, I already know what Christians think. I was one for three decades. Move it along.

At the end of the day, however, I feel I learned more from Krauss than Craig. It seems to me most WLC fans are just taking the devotional tract and agreeing whole heartedly with Craig because he is simply reaffirming what they already purport to believe. Besides this, I think much of what Krauss was saying may have gone over many audience member's heads.

For example, Krauss' comment that infinity adds up to a finite number seems to have been lost on most people. Certainly Craig seemed to be unaware of the implications, and how it renders his A theory of time argument to establish a first cause moot, as he let it slide. Or maybe Craig showed some restraint knowing better than to argue advanced theoretical physics with a real physicist of Krauss’ caliber (although, admittedly, it wasn't at all obvious if he did). Obviously Krauss was struggling to dumb it down enough for the lay audience to grasp, given the short time frame and restrictive format, but even so he still offered interesting morsels of knowledge, like the infinity thing. Meanwhile, one has to wonder how many more times Craig is going to tell us that Jesus rose from the dead. Um, yeah. We get that’s what Christians believe. Anything new to offer in the way of convincing evidence for the existence of said God? No? Well that says a lot right there.

There's only so many times you can flog a dead horse before even the most ardent believers must admit it's never getting back up. But I guess it shows how powerful the confirmation bias really is. And that's what it felt like watching the debate, knowing all the Craig fans will agree with him that the horse is alive and kicking, while all the people who paid close attention to Krauss will realize that Craig never offered anything tangible in the way of evidence--just conjecture and more appeals to authority.

If your tally it like a high school debate, the winner receives points for answering each argument with an official rebuttal, then Craig clearly won. But notice how Craig loads his comments so they all have dozens of points, making it nigh impossible for anyone to ever properly score against him. Yes, Craig is good at winning the debates by this measure, but if you're talking about winning actual arguments, well, Craig fails every time. Craig is a debater, not a dialectic, and so for him it's about the appearance of winning--not actually having any valid arguments or justifiable truths.



Then there is the Sam Harris debate. The full debate can be viewed here after the jump.

One thing I might point out is that Craig is merely ascribing "moral goodness" to God. He's not, by any means, empirically verifying it in the real world. While I agree Craig is talking about an ontological grounds for morality, his proving it remains another matter.

It doesn't matter how he words his comments, or whether or not he dodges the Euthyphro dilemma, because he's not really talking about anything more than a theological concept within the active constraints of his own theology. A theology which preaches God is good... even when such a claim is certifiably contradicted within his own religion's Holy Book. Sam brought this up several times but Craig insisted he was merely changing the subject of debate.

The only reason WLC believes God is morally good is because he is a Christian, and that's one of the peculiar things Christians believe. But the God of his own Holy book is not so moral, all one need do is read the OT to learn this. Sam made a few quips about cutting out Leviticus and Deuteronomy, and got a few chuckles, but Craig didn't seem to get the joke. So, it seemed to me, Craig's assumptions about God's goodness, or God equating goodness, are merely being ascribed and are, in actuality, without basis.

And people actually claim Craig wins his debates. Again, claiming objective morality exists is different than proving your God concept is the embodiment of this fundamental morality. Craig went through some philosophical demonstrations to show how he derives a moral law giver from the revelation of objective morals in reality, and stated that if there was no moral law giver we wouldn't have morality. This comes back to Divine Command theory, but Wes Morriston has shown how absurd Divine Command theory is when trying to claim God is the basis for an ontological morality. Morriston raises all the same objections I have with Craig's version of ontological morality and God, so check out his paper when you get the chance.

Sam's entire point that, contrary to Craig's position, there is a way to describe a moral landscape where objective morality is, in theory, not only recognizable but also practicable seemed not to have any sway on Craig who sat jotting down notes for his rebuttal. Craig then accused Sam of failing to establish an ontological basis for morality, or rather, said Sam had ducked the responsibility. Maybe Sam didn't explain his concept clearly enough, or maybe Craig just wanted to score more points against the opposition, but Sam's entire basis for ontological morality rests on human consciousness. Meaning, if we were unaware of the suffering and flourishing of sentient beings we wouldn't be aware of right and wrong, or good and evil, either. But Craig seemed to (perhaps deliberately) forget he was talking to a bona fide neuroscientist--and Craig believes objective morality would exist in a universe without humans, since God would still be the arbiter of morality. Whether or not Craig was aware of it, Sam demolished this notion by painting an example of a conceivable universe which was only populated by rocks, which could neither feel pain nor be aware of it. Thus, Sam's suggestion is that moral awareness can only come from sentient beings with consciousness, like ourselves.

In this respect, I feel Sam Harris definitely won. He not only gave perimeters for a pragmatic objective morality, but his book The Moral Landscape also backs up the claim with a plethora of up to date cognitive research. Craig spent a surprising amount of energy misrepresenting many of the arguments in Sam's book, but Sam politely reminded the audience to pick up a copy and read the quotes in context.

Craig's claim about God and morality is based on whether or not you buy into the supernatural claims of Christianity, derived from a tenuous and archaic text which has very little to do with morality, which was one of Sam's points. Craig says this line of reasoning had nothing to do with the debate, that he wasn't arguing Scriptural validity but, rather, arguing for a comprehensive good which can be derived from God's goodness, i.e., an ontological morality. Right and wrong exist, and Craig used the analogy of light and darkness, something we all know what it means even before we know exactly what it is. But his argument that goodness exists objectively, therefore forming an ontological basis for morality, therefore must stem from God is merely an attribution of goodness onto God. If God was not good, as Sam stated numerous times, then logically such a conclusion couldn't be made. But Craig feels that since he attributes God with a certain goodness, that this accounts for the goodness we find in reality. Or to state it Craig's way: goodness exists in reality therefore evidence for a moral law giver.

Luckily, nobody questioned Craig on the syllogism, and he was able to say Sam hadn't yet provided any counter arguments to his claims. Actually, Sam had. Sam had denied the attribution of moral goodness to God. So Craig then attempted to explain how God's nature is ultimately good just by our awareness of right and wrong. He attempted to do this with his second point about is and ought statements, but this is where the syllogism became obvious for those paying attention and taking notes. One of the questioners caught Craig on this, but Craig brushed his question aside and simply reiterated his second points again. Thus Craig never actually answered how God's goodness provides reason for why we ought to be good (should a good God exist). That is to say, even if God was good, what imperative is there to act good? Sam views the imperative as the desire to avoid hell, but Craig denied (several times) that this has any sway on the questions of God's innate goodness. Denying it doesn't make it so however, because as Sam pointed out, a God who would condemn innocents to suffer eternally couldn't, in point of fact, be a good or loving God. Therefore, contrary to what Craig may think, one can't simply attribute God with goodness because he believes in God's supposed goodness. Yet Craig spent a lot of time stating the two claims were not mutual... that hell has nothing to do with God's nature. Sam didn't fall for the red herring and kept on track.

I'm no moral philosopher, but it seems Sam definitely has mapped out a plausible way for morality to be tested, which would supply the ought. And if morality is concerned with human suffering and well-being, then our flourishing would be the ought which brackets our objective moral understanding. Meanwhile, Craig seemed vehemently to try not to understand this point.



After the debate with Harris, Craig posted a series of baffling comments denigrating the audience members and atheists in general. Apparently Craig thinks everyone is stupid. At least Krauss' Facebook comments after debate attacked the faulty reasoning and Craig's syllogisms, not the audience members.

Reading Craig's comments struck me as peculiar in more ways than one, because he claims the audience members asked stupid questions, and then blames it on the secularists in attendance, even as it was more than apparent that it was the Christian audience members who asked the most unintelligent (or unintelligible) questions (remember the one about bleeding crackers, and that guy who had visions from God about the moral sanctioning of sodomy--classic). Craig even appeared to get flustered by the questioner's comments and berated his fellow Christian, telling him that he was stupid for asking that and then called him a faker--implying he wasn't even a real Christian (although the kid looked like he was about to cry). Mike over at the A-Unicornist has a breakdown of the mud flung by Craig and his flurry of ad hominems, worth reviewing here.

Mike's closing comment is golden, and needs repeating. Reflecting about the folly of Craig, Mike writes:

"But remember Isaac Newton: He gave us the laws of motion, the laws of optics, universal gravitation, and differential calculus. He was also an alchemist. You can be very smart in general, and very right about many things, and still hold misguided beliefs about certain things. Craig's intellectual hubris, in my view, belies the fundamental weakness of his position; if his reasoning were better, he wouldn't have to resort to self-aggrandizement and the denigration of his intellectual antagonists."

Personally, I'd like to see WLC sit down with Sam Harris and discuss moral issues one on one, as he recently did with Shelly Kagan. I think Craig is out of his element when he has to rely on his actual brain power and not the audience's general credulity. Also, I have to hand it to Kagan who handled Craig extremely well. Given a similar situation, I'm sure Harris would have devastated Craig with hard core facts along with Sam's trademark intellectual prowess.

In conclusion, Craig is good at scoring points and "winning" debates, but he suffers miserably at winning arguments. Ultimately, I guess it depends on what you're hoping to get out of watching a debate like this. Personally, I just enjoy it to hear the new ideas, which rarely come from the Christian camp. Their ideas are all well established--and there isn't really anything novel to gain from them. That's why I think the New Atheists are succeeding... they are offering food for thought.


Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Burnt Up Bloody Fools and on Blasphemy

Burnt Up Bloody Fools

Disclaimer: Although I predict that some of my views will be considered controversial, these are sensitive topics involving highly sensitive issues and emotions, and I will do my best to keep an open mind and be reasonable. Personally, I am for peace, cultural tolerance, and developing healthy worldviews. End of disclaimer.

The Story of an Idiot, a Fool, and a Clown
If you’ve been following the news, you’ll probably have read a snippet or blurb about the antics of Florida based pastor Terry Jones, head of the Christian congregation at Dove World Outreach Center, whose recent burning of the Muslim religious book the Qur’an triggered Muslim riots in Afghanistan that led to the deaths of 21 people. Mob riots incited by the burning of the Qur'an lead to attacks on a U.N. compound in Mazar-e Sharif, killing seven U.N. employees, and on Saturday, related protests in Kandahar left nine dead and more than 90 injured.

In a recent essay on his blog The Oxonian called “Bloody Fools,” the religious historian R. Joseph Hoffmann condemned the act stating, “Terry Jones’s acts were not a stunt: they were intended to light fires and kill innocent people.  Indeed they were done to prove that innocent people would be killed.”

Indeed, Terry Jones was warned by government officials that such a brazen, tactless, and culturally insensitive act would incite riots and potentially murders yet he went through with it anyway. Hoffmann wants Jones arrested and charged as an accomplice in mass murder for having instigated the heinous act and deliberately inflaming the situation. In the article Hoffmann makes a comparison between the atheist PZ Myers whose antics a few years earlier made headlines when he poked a hole in a religious cracker and tossed it in a waste bin with some torn out pages of a Bible, Koran, and a torn up copy of Richard Dawkins’ book The God Delusion all topped off with some used coffee grounds. Hoffmann writes:

Myers, simply an atheist showman, wrote a pretty nifty article about blasphemy on his site in 2008.  In it he documented the insidious reverence in which Catholics held to the doctrine of the “real presence of Jesus” in the eucharist in the Middle Ages and the violence shown to disbelievers, especially Jews, who were always getting on the wrong side of Catholics and always being accused of desecrating the communion host, or “cracker” as Myers snarkily likes to call the matzah used at Mass…. Myers’ antics made him the dark darling of full frontal atheists, those who hold to the curious view that the angrier you make people who believe in sacred books and objects, the likelier you are to win over people who hold a weak or no opinion on the subject… Desecration, confrontation, Yo-mama style insult and blasphemy are tangible blows for reason, the commandos believe.

Hoffmann goes onto to call Myer’s antics cowardly and adds, “The point was half-clever, but the whole incident was tasteless, and (as I’ve said before)  cowardly: to be effective, try it again, only this time in downtown Lahore after you send the memo.”

Coming to Myers defense is fellow biologist, academic, and atheist Jerry Coyne, who brings up a great point, asking, “Was it ‘cowardly’, as Hoffman states, for P. Z. to desecrate the Qur’an in Morris, Minnesota but not in Lahore? Not cowardly but prudent—who wants to die that way?  The fact that it’s imprudent to insult Islam in Lahore is not the fault of Myers; it’s the fault of Islam, which is so easily insulted and inflamed.”

About Hoffmann’s rash call for the arrest of Terry Jones, Jerry Coyne states: 

There are far more innocuous acts that also have a reasonable expectation of causing trouble, like Geert Wilders’s and Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s criticism of Islam. They now need police protection because they’ve “insulted” Islam. The threats against them were absolutely predictable. If they are murdered by Muslim extremists, as was Theo van Gogh, are they responsible for their own deaths?... In all of this Hoffmann misses the real problem, which is not the inimical effects of protected speech, but the fact that Islam is such a violent faith that even the mildest criticism, like naming a teddy bear “Mohamed,” can inflame Muslims and lead to murder…. There is an uncanny irony here that many have noticed. The position of the Muslim community in the face of all provocations seems to be: Islam is a religion of peace, and if you say that it isn’t, we will kill you. Of course, the truth is often more nuanced, but this is about as nuanced as it ever gets: Islam is a religion of peace, and if you say that it isn’t, we peaceful Muslims cannot be held responsible for what our less peaceful brothers and sisters do. When they burn your embassies or kidnap and slaughter your journalists, know that we will hold you primarily responsible and will spend the bulk of our energies criticizing you for “racism” and “Islamophobia.”

In an update to his article Hoffmann retorts:

Some respondents think that there is a moral equivalence, such that Terry Jones and the Afghan and Pakistani responders are cut from the same cloth. How that renders Jones innocent or raises the dead I am not sure. I find that kind of response both uninformed and worrying. Very worrying coming from nonbelievers, and maybe because it raises in my mind questions about whether a certain level of atheism isn’t also an impediment to moral reasoning–specifically that kind that finds all religions “naturally” guilty of atrocity and hence no one at fault and no one innocent of crimes.

However, I must agree with Coyne here, that both in the case of Myers and Jones, the sayings and expressions of both men are in fact protected by the First Amendment of American free speech law. Hoffmann is essentially asking us to wave the rights of Jones because he equates Jones’ words and actions with the desire to instigate murderous riots, but nothing Jones said or did violates any American laws. Coyne is right to identify Hoffmann’s call fatuous. Furthermore, a distinction needs to be made, Terry Jones is an idiot. An insensitive, blithering, imbecile who is closed-minded, xenophobic, tactless, and shows such bad judgment that it’s a wonder he can even function in normal society (which probably explains why he remains at the fringe).

More than this, Jones is a sinister twat who cares more about professing his sanctimonious certitude than he cares about other people’s lives, and for this he will be remembered as an unsympathetic monster. By contrast, Myers is quite entertaining—he’s the clown in this story—and he is quite guiltless of any perceived offense, as blasphemy is a victimless crime (more on this later). This leaves Hoffmann, who plays our fool, because like all fools, he just can’t seem to grasp the irony of the situation—it’s not Jones to blame, it’s his religious upbringing. Perhaps Hoffmann arrogantly assumes people who, like him, have seen the light will sympathize with those poor schmucks who are still deluded and suffering a God Delusion. Perhaps his own moral convictions cause him to be blinded to what’s really going on here, and his call to lop off the head of the beast (aka Terry Jones) causes us to roll our eyes whilst atheists stand up for the rights of the radical Christian nut-job to voice his blinkered and painfully ignorant opinion. It’s not religious ridicule which is to blame, it’s not even defamation of religion, but rather, it’s the inviolable status which the religious have bestowed upon anything they deem is sacred which is at the core of the problem.

Criticism Where Criticism is Due
During the Herbert Reade Memorial Lecture in 1990, Salman Rushdie, who is no stranger to religious persecution, spoke on the matter of religion‘s inviolable status and simultaneously its drive to oppress dissenting ideas, by expressing, “The idea of the sacred is quite simply one of the most conservative notions in any culture, because it seeks to turn other ideas—uncertainty, progress, change—into crimes.”

In fact, we might view the sacred as a perversion of religious certainty. Anything which seeks to inform the religious that they are wrong is perceived as a threat, for such suggestions may spark a crippling doubt which takes people away from God (and the consequences of this—according to most religious ways of thinking—are too horrible to bear). Thus to safeguard faith, such criticism is made criminal, blasphemy laws are written up, heretics and apostates get fatwas (i.e., bounties) put on their heads for anyone willing to silence the infidel for a price. The price of a life arbitrarily being doled out by Imams and religious clerics is bad enough, the fact that they have frequently gotten away with it in the 20th and 21st century is scandalous. The message is always the same: the sacred must go unchallenged at all costs—in order for religion to survive unscathed—and faith must be held up as the utmost highest of virtues—which is why it is taboo to criticize it. Anything less, and the religion would be trivialized to the point where it becomes quite meaningless—this is the dread driving the fervor of religious fanatics—a huge insecurity and the inability to cope with doubt.

The religious have turned faith into a virtue which must be sheltered from criticism at all costs, but it is this very act which acts as kindle to a flame. For those who are all stoked up on their own self righteous indignation, it doesn’t matter how ill conceived, sick, or twisted one’s faith gets—just as long as nobody every mentions anything about its failings and weaknesses. To admit to an imperfect faith would be heresy. However, when some bold skeptic, perhaps an atheist biology professor, does challenge the artificially buttressed inviolable status of religious faith, it seems the most insecure, often times the most stupid, of religious adherents become so riled up that, like a hornets’ nest getting stirred up, they frantically lash out at anyone (and everyone) who gives them even the slightest sideways glance. Hoffmann’s advice is not to ridicule them, don’t stir things up, but this is in itself a large part of the problem.

Christopher Hitchens has pinpointed the problem, quite nicely, when he observes:

[All religions] make the same mistake. They all take the only real faculty we have that distinguishes us from other primates, and from other animals—the faculty of reason, and the willingness to take any risk that reason demands of us—and they replace that with the idea that faith is a virtue. If I could change just one thing, it would be to dissociate the idea of faith from virtue...[i]

Hitchens is right. If faith wasn’t an uninfringeable subject matter, if the sacrosanct opinion of the most zealous wasn’t so insecure, if violence wasn’t so romanticized by religion, then one could safely criticize religion for its faults and failings—hoping to invoke change—instead of fearing for one’s life that they have (somehow) inadvertently wounded the pride of religious believers so deeply that the only retribution is retaliation and the forfeit of your life.

Rational, level headed, people call this sort of overreaction insane—precisely because rational, level headed, people usually do not demand your death when you bring up a legitimate criticism. Granted, sometimes it helps to be more tactful in how we bring awareness to other people’s faults. For example, you would not say to your friend, who suffers from bad breath, “Brush your teeth, stank breath!” You would likely approach them more sensitively, by offering them a mint first, or perhaps, by buying them a new fancy electric tooth brush for their birthday (and asking them regularly if they want a free refill on those used brush heads). Eventually the point would sink in. On the other hand, if you found out your boyfriend or girlfriend was a double timing, no good, floozy you might feel compelled to let him or her know they would be doing the whole world a favor by informing them to, “Crawl up their own ass and die.” Either way, various situations call for different levels of language usages to get the message across.

Hoffmann affirms, “Ultimately, the way forward is going to be a matter of tone and technique, not the outcome of the work of a few commando God-bashers writing from the safe haven of first world democracies telling the majority how foolish they are.” On this point I agree with him. But where I differ is on the notion that, somehow, censuring loud mouthed God-bashers, or worse still, stripping them of their freedom of speech, is somehow necessitated by the hypersensitivity of somebody else’s religious insecurity. On this point, Hoffmann is entirely mistaken. We can’t dictate how others ought to think or behave, but we can at least criticize their actions when they misbehave, and perhaps, if our message is clear enough, the point might sink in.

Even Morons and Blowhards are Entitled the Right to Freedom of Speech
It goes without saying that I too find Terry Jones despicable, in almost every way, and no matter how much I detest him or his book burning antics though, I can’t bring myself to deprive him of a basic human right—the freedom of speech. At the end of the day, no matter how vitriolic, venom stained, or hateful Terry Jones words are—he still has a basic privilege to say them. It doesn’t mean saying them is right, but at the same time, we need to realize, there is no law against burning books. Even morons and blowhards are entitled the right to the freedom of speech in the U.S., as well as most civilized Democracies (except for Ireland where they have an idiotic blasphemy law—and the one thing I hate more than blowhards which say idiotic things are the discriminatory politicians which think they can dictate what others think and say).

Even so, no matter how hurtful Jones’ actions or words were to the feelings (and pride) of others—it’s not a hate crime against Muslims, it’s not even a hate crime per se. There’s nothing to hold him criminally accountable for. Meanwhile, those who think Jones committed a grave offense forget that it’s only a conversation delusional fanatics hash out amongst themselves. It’s a pissing contest between giants with tiny, virtually non-existent, wieners. It’s why there are Holy Wars in the first place. Everyone wants to be vindicated, and their so full of piss and vinegar, that to challenge them on any point is to challenge their resolve. I’m right. No, I’m right. Obviously we both can’t be right, so I will kill you now. There can be only one. But I shouldn’t need to point out the obvious fact that where religion seeks to snuff out all dissenting views or differing opinions, everyone is a victim of tyranny. It’s why many of us have grown to detest religion. So often it seeks to oppress not just our criticisms but our individual opinions as well. That’s what the Muslim protesters are seeking to do, stifle the opposing opinions, and in so doing buttress their faith and shelter it from reproof—but only if you let their tyranny reign over you first. And that’s not a compromise any of us should halve to make just to protect a religious extremist’s feelings from being hurt by the very notion that there are others outside of his faith who do, and perhaps with very good reasons, disagree.

At any rate, we may not agree with what Terry Jones says or does, in fact we may find his ways downright deplorable (and I do), but it doesn’t make him responsible for the murders of some other religious nut in some far off country who, like Jones, shows no sense of moral judgment. To put it frankly, if a book means more to you than the life of another human being, your priorities are all messed up, and you need to seek help.  Terry Jones knowingly, and willfully, chose to spread hate instead of love, and like a bigot he took a position of intolerance over tolerance, and just like the flames he set to the Qur’an, his hate ignited the hate of others, and like a wildfire it spread. Lives were lost. But Jones did not take those lives—other idiots, fueled by religious delusions, filled with just as much hate in their heats as Jones, took those lives. And for what?  

Sam Harris chimes in with an essay titled “Losing our spines to save our necks,” stating:

Wilders, like Westergaard and the other Danish cartoonists, has been widely vilified for “seeking to inflame” the Muslim community. Even if this had been his intention, this criticism represents an almost supernatural coincidence of moral blindness and political imprudence. The point is not (and will never be) that some free person spoke, or wrote, or illustrated in such a manner as to inflame the Muslim community. The point is that only the Muslim community is combustible in this way. The controversy over Fitna, like all such controversies, renders one fact about our world especially salient: Muslims appear to be far more concerned about perceived slights to their religion than about the atrocities committed daily in its name. Our accommodation of this psychopathic skewing of priorities has, more and more, taken the form of craven and blinkered acquiescence.

Sadly, it appears those lives were taken because a fanatical group of Muslims were just as morally depraved as Terry Jones. Meanwhile, Jones is lapping it us, as he gets to say, “I told you so.” His point? The Muslims will murder at the drop of a hat—and there’s the religion of peace for you. Jones entire goal was to prove the “religion of peace” nothing but a guise for the devil’s religion, a religion of hate. It seems that Jones ploy worked. He succeeded in proving to his congregation that religious extremists everywhere, whether Christian or Muslim, excel at practicing a religion of hate. Or rather, hate coupled with ignorance becomes their religion—and they prove it every time they burn books, insight riots, partake in rioting, or take innocent lives.

Instead of trying to build a better, safer, world for all to live religious extremists are all hell bent on tearing it down—but burnt over policies never work, and getting rid of religion, or other people’s religion for that matter, won’t fix the problem. Such destructive people would exist regardless of whether or not religion did, but it cannot be denied that religion does frequently contribute to their ignorance and zeal, making for a deadly mixture, and often spurs on their behavior by means of a tenacious dogma which refuses to show any mercy. Religious apologists would do best to dispense with the excuses and start addressing the very real problem of violent acts which are specifically done in the name of faith—whether it is the rape of children as so prevalent in the Catholic Church, or whether it is female genital mutilation as seen in various Islamic countries, or honor killings, or witch hunts in the Dark Continent—these are religious acts compelled by superstitious modes of religious thinking. Addressing these evils, and figuring out how such perverted thinking arises in the first place, and how exactly this relates to the underlying religious ideology, would be a large step toward addressing the larger problem of how such deep felt religious convictions can so easily lead to acts of human atrocity.

Some Common Sense
Yet, I can’t help but feel, in all this negativity that we begin to paint with too broad of brush strokes. Luke Muehlhauser of Common Sense Atheism reminds us that all harmful religious dogmas are despicable. But this doesn’t give us any right to be culturally insensitive or intolerant. I agree with Luke when he states:

It’s not very useful to paint with such a broad brush. For example, there are large populations of Christians who are more destructive than certain large populations of Muslims. This point is illustrated—with devastating emotional force—in a 2006 story on This American Life about a Muslim family’s life in America the day before, and the day after, September 11th.

True enough. The story is heartbreaking, which Luke summarizes on his blog, and it shows how cruel a Christian community was to a Muslim family—so cruel in fact that they literally ruined the family due to their own fear, hatred, and ignorance. Luke, showing more empathy than most, adds, “My one-note coverage of Islam on this blog, focusing on extremism, has probably “contributed to an atmosphere” in which Muslims are harassed, tormented, and hated. That wasn’t my intent, but I should have thought more carefully about the consequences of my choices.”

This is wisdoms worth sharing—if more people cared enough to think about the consequences of their words and actions before they said or did them, then maybe, just maybe, we’d all benefit from this prudence. Instead, we are stuck with the likes of Terry Jones and those religious radicals who love nothing more to do than throw flaming snowballs of piss at each other because of some sanctimonious high-horse they are on. The only problem is, all the innocent people who get caught up in their petty blood feuds and holy crusades of self indignation.

Blasphemy: A Victimless Crime
Why, one might wonder, is my scorn reserved for hate filled abusers like Terry Jones but not for the clowning around of wise-guy atheists like PZ Myers? First off, if you’ve ever had the honor of meeting PZ Myers or hearing one of his anti-religious lectures, you’ll find that he is quite mild-mannered, well spoken, and jovial. Sure, he has a juvenile delinquent who has yet to get through puberty trapped inside a fifty-four year old man’s body, but who doesn’t? What cannot be ignored, however, is that PZ Myers frequently makes a good point.

Hoffmann is straining mightily to turn all the focus on a jerk and a hate-monger, while neglecting the actual results of religion's actions: that some people are so dedicated to their delusional superstitions that they will threaten or even commit violence at slight provocation. We live in a world where some Catholics will froth at the mouth and send death-threats and call for people to be fired over insults to a scrap of magic, holy bread; we live in a world where some Muslims will kill random people if someone insults their magic, holy book. That ought to be recognized as the real problem and a call for more criticism, not less, of religion…

Myers’ call for more criticism of religion echoes Thomas Jefferson’s sentiment that “Nothing but free argument, raillery and even ridicule will preserve the purity of religion.”[ii] Nowadays, many seem to have forgotten the necessary reasons for this sort of freedom of speech—because past theocracies not only dictated what could be said, but would put to death anyone who said differently, or who was guilty of the perceived crime of blasphemy. This is the dangerous path religious fundamentalism leads down for those too caught up in the literalism of their faith that they don’t heed the warnings of Young Goodman Brown, or PZ Myers for that matter. The only way to combat such inviolable status of religion is to deflate it, and this, of course, requires an occasional prick. After all, by taking religion down a few notches, people can speak more openly (even candidly) about faith—and this often leads to revivals of faith and stronger felt convictions. Confessions of faith which cannot be spoken, not even uttered on a whisper, due to a fear that your co-religionists will do what John Calvin did when he betrayed fellow Christian Michael Servetus, whom Calvin deemed a heretic and handed over to the Inquisition to be burned at the stake for nothing more than a difference of theological opinion, sponsors a very real fear of being silenced, or worse. 

PZ Myers, like an expert rodeo clown,[iii] takes this fear sparked by mad religionists and dances around it, taunting it, prodding it, getting it riled up. Then, when it bursts into a bucking bull full of senseless rage, Myers expertly evades the sharp horns of the dangerous beast. Then, he asks us to join him in the dance. The goal is to tame the wild beast—and maybe the beast will be less prone to violence, less quick to temper, and more apt to shrug off the occasional prick. The bull, finally tamed, will be forced to retire from the rodeo. Myers point, I feel, is that if you sensationalize every trivial offense, getting angrier and angrier, then like a mad bull enraged to the point of uncontrolled violence, you’re going to inadvertently call in the rodeo clowns—and it is their job to defuse the situation. If religious people don’t want clowns like PZ Myers dancing circles around them, taunting them, prodding them, honking them on the nose, and getting them all worked up—then they have to learn how stop making mountains of mole hills and learn to cope with criticism—otherwise their just inviting more of it.

Religious faith needs to be more open to criticism, not only for the good of society, but for its own good. This is something I feel most religious adherents have a hard time accepting because they are under the notion that everything within their faith is sacred and must not be met with irreverent treatment. Yet this begs the question, does what PZ Myers or Terry Jones have done in their irreligious stunts in any way equate to a religious offense? In other words, to frame the question another way, can blasphemy (or more generally speaking irreligion) even be considered a genuine offense at all? Can we bully God to the point of making him cry? The question itself rings absurd.

The atheist philosopher GW Foote brings to our attention the fact that:

Atheists are often charged with blasphemy, but it is a crime they cannot commit… When the Atheist examines, denounces, or satirises the gods, he is not dealing with persons but with ideas. He is incapable of insulting God, for he does not admit the existence of any such being…. We attack not a person but a belief, not a binge but an idea, not a fact but a fancy.[iv]

Blasphemy, it seems, is a victimless crime. In fact, the Oxford Dictionary of English states that: blasphemy is the action or offence of speaking sacrilegiously about God (or sacred things). Originally, if we trace the etymology of the term, the word blasphemy stems from the ecclesiastical Latin from the Greek blasphémia or to ‘slander’. Yet it is well understood that one cannot slander something which doesn’t exist to feel the pangs of a hurt reputation. Most nonbelievers, as Foote noted, do not admit to the existence of any such being. Even if we assume God exists, then God’s complete absence of presence, conveniently enough, allows for him to avoid direct defamation (and so he cannot be properly slandered). Criticizing God would amount to little more than people talking behind God’s back. If he showed up, then maybe his detractors would think twice. But, then again, he might merely invite the ire of his most ardent followers if he should prove to be as big as a scumbag as his detractors say he is—the let down would cause a massive loss of faith amongst the majority of beliers. Which begs the question, is God intentionally avoiding a face to face confrontation with PZ Myers because he know PZ is right? Perhaps God just doesn’t care enough of one man’s lofty opinion. Certainly, such an indifferent being wouldn’t care much about crimes of blasphemy. Why should his followers?

If we take the skeptical view, however, God’s complete absence of presence may be evidence of non-existence. If this turns out to be the case, then blasphemy is even a more erroneous concept than initially thought, as there would be absolutely nothing to ridicule or slander, thus nothing to take offense against. Therefore blasphemy cannot possibly be a punishable offense—since there is absolutely nothing to offend. Which is exactly why I feel modern blasphemy laws are senseless, arbitrary, and therefore constitute cruel and unusual punishment, which breach international human rights laws and goes directly against the Geneva convention—sorry to say (I’m looking at you Ireland).

Religious believers need to start getting used to criticism. Plain and simple. The first step, if I may be so bold as to offer advice tempered by experience, would be to stop overreacting and perhaps pause to ask yourself, why is it that I’m being criticized? Was any constructive criticism offered, what can I learn by this, and how can I change for the better? Getting in a tizzy anytime somebody voices a differing opinion is not the way to justify one’s beliefs. The only way you will ever be proved right is by testing your beliefs and holding them up to scrutiny. Do they pass muster? In fact, the reluctance of the religious community to do just this (hold their own beliefs up to scrutiny) causes impatient, sometimes smart-alecky, atheists and religious critics to do it for them.

Religious detractors like PZ Myers are literally forcing the mirror up to the religious zealot’s face and asking them to look as what they see staring back at them. I should think, in the case of Terry Jones and those violent Muslim rioters, that what they see in the mirror should shame and humiliate them. The corrupt and depraved, unfeeling, creature staring back at them with nothing but contempt and scorn for everybody and everything should not be a mark of Saintly devotion, but should be seen for what it is, a complete and utter failure of humanity. And this less than human form should, like J.R.R. Tolkien’s golem, be condemned to crawl back into whatever slimy, filth ridden, hole it came from and keep there.

Meanwhile, the very refusal of the religious to keep their deplorable religious ideas, tenuous teaching, paltry practices, and tortured thoughts to themselves simply invites criticism—if religion can go so wrong, so frequently, what’s wrong in reminding them of it? Why not lambast it into the next century? If it survives the scrutiny it will be better off for it, if not, it will crumble away like a house built on a foundation of sand. One might wonder, don’t the religious want the truth? Aren’t they the ones always confessing to have the truth? It’s the least we could do to ask them to back up their claims and put them to the test. More importantly, it would be doing them a favor. After all, if their beliefs are all illusions, if they are under a shared mass delusion, wouldn’t they want to be free of it? Wouldn’t they want to enjoy the liberated freedom of thought that the secular free thinker enjoys—if in fact their religious beliefs prove false? I for one value the truth over lies, and if someone showed me that I had only been lying to myself, and with reason and compassion helped me to think differently—then I’d like to think that perhaps I would be capable of changing my mind, even if it meant that I may have to eat crow. I’m certainly not conceited enough to think that I never err—or that every belief I have is infallible—or that I am privy to some ultimate truth that nobody else is because I believe in tenuous things. No, I can no longer abide the arrogance and self conceit of such narrow-minded reasoning. 

At the same time, we must not be too quick to revile all religion. Not all religious practices are harmful, not all religious beliefs are absurd (although many are), and certainly not all religious people are mad zealots with violent intentions. I have many Muslim friends, both in America and abroad, and they express the same horror and shock I do at these events. At the same time, many religious traditions are beautiful. Buddhist funerals are elaborate ceremonies which both honor the memory of the deceased and provide closure for the mourning—even minus the traditional belief in god. Even as a nonbeliever I still find Christmas day a day worth having—if not for the time it affords us to be with loved ones and family then for the joys of children’s laughter as gifts are exchanged and Christmas cakes are divided. Like Tim Minchin, however, it won’t be about Jesus so much as enjoying each other’s company and drinking white wine in the sun. I love being invited over to Jewish friend’s homes and breaking bread, slathered in honey butter, and sharing a glass of wine over a good conversation as they prepare for the Sabbath. I like the Japanese festivals revolving around Buddhist tradition, such as the Hina matsuri (or Princess Festival), in which I can celebrate the joys of having a beautiful daughter, but also, celebrate darling girls everywhere. I enjoy throwing beans at imaginary oni (devils) during Setsubun, the bean scattering ceremony, which occurs during the last day of winter on the Japanese calendar. Although I speak only for myself, I also like reading Bible stories, not as a religious text, mind you, but as a work of literature containing ancient poetry, wisdom, and human history.

In all of this, the lesson to be had is, religion is not all bad. But some of it is. Similarly, some religions are worse than others, in fact some are downright disreputable, and this is why criticism is necessary. It will always be necessary. This is why it is so important for religious believers to become accustomed to this fact—not everyone is going to necessarily value your religion to the same degree you do—nor should they have to. That’s the open minded awareness and tolerance I hope to prompt by engaging with these issues. It’s not just a polemic against religion, because I think you will find religion can often times be more subtle than the caricature which gets painted of it. But at the same time, the religious need to realize that there is probably, more often than not, good justifications for the caricatures of religion.  

Conclusion: In a Perfect World
In a perfect world those Muslims would never have been offended because in a perfect world Terry Jones would be a quite amiable fellow. In a less perfect world, those Muslim rioters would be spending the rest of their lives behind bars and Terry Jones would be executing a court order demanding he take bi-weekly sensitivity training classes, but the world we live in is less perfect still. Terry Jones will likely continue to insight Muslim violence, and fanatical Muslims will happily oblige him, and all will get off the hook—and go home proud of each small victory they gained by getting the other to jump through their hoops like they do—all acting like a bunch of trained monkeys. In summary, if there is one point which needs to be emphasized, we need to stop shifting the blame by pointing toward everyone else, and begin to take responsibility for our own words and actions.  Religion may help or hinder this endeavor, but ultimately, we have no one to blame for our failings but ourselves.




NOTES


[i] From his speech with David Berlinski, available online:
[ii] Thomas Jefferson, ―Notes on Religion, in The Works of Thomas Jefferson in Twelve Volumes, Federal Edition, ed. by Paul Leicester Ford. (New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1904), Vol. 2, p. 256.
[iii] Note: Rodeo clowns are noble and valiant. Their job is vitally important, because it is their antics which distract the bull long enough to allow the cowboy time to escape, with his life. I am not intending to ridicule PZ Myers by comparing him to a clown.
[iv] GW Foote, “Who are the Blasphemers?” in Flowers of Freethought

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Adam and Eve: What's the Meaning of the Myth? (Update)


Adam and Eve: What's the Meaning of the Myth?

            On the sixth day God created all living things, and among them he created man and woman, from which he fashioned out of the red clay of the Earth herself, and breathed life into his creation. He then placed them in a paradise garden, and he grew a tree, a very special tree, as it has magic fruit containing all the knowledge in the world. And then he made the serpent—and he made sure the serpent was more cunning than all the other beasts. This Hebrew myth, or more specifically fable (since it involves a talking animal and a moral), is familiar to many because it is one of the best known and most beloved of Bible stories. The thing is, however, most people don’t actually know the story all that well. Most were taught it in Sunday school, but outside of church not very many people stop to re-examine the story and what it’s really about. In other words, they take it for granted, and they simply believe what they are told about it. The goal of this essay is to correct several misconceptions regarding the first three chapters of Genesis—specifically that of the story of Adam and Eve.
            Here I’m going to focus on why the Adam and Eve story in Genesis cannot be considered history and why it is just a myth. Also, I will discuss what the underlying meaning of the story is, pinpoint the core moral of the fable (minus any additional theological dressing), and explain why Christians are misreading it, and have been misreading the Garden of Eden story since the beginning.

Adam and Eve: Six Interpretations
            Alice C. Linsley, a Christian scholar, has written about the various views of the Adam and Eve story. Is it fable? Myth perhaps? Linsley outlines six possible ways to read the Garden of Eden story. We can interpret the story of Adam and Eve as 1) literal interpretation, 2) allegory, 3) federal headship, 4) typology, 5) myth, and finally 6) archetype.[1]
           Personally, however, I would submit that myth contains both allegory and archetype, since that's usually what a myth is, but Linsley seems to separate them for the reason that, as with the example of allegory, like most Christians she presumes the concept of sin is a real phenomenon. As the Christian view holds it, the story may be alluding to the supernatural phenomenon of sin, something humans aren't fully capable of grasping, but because of the simple allegory found within the story we can see that sin is quite real—even while admitting the story is not literal. This is not her view personally, just one of the Christian views, which is probably why she separates it. Linsley seems to subscribe to the Archetype position that Adam and Eve are Archetypal ancestors of Christ, as St. Paul also believed. The Biblical scholar Randel Helms details, “For Paul, the story of Adam was not merely the history of past things; Adam was a “type [typos] of him who was to come”—Christ (Rom. 5:14).[2]
            Such a Pauline consideration is made explicit in Linsley’s comment that “Genesis is first and foremost about Christ and the Edenic Promise (Gen. 3:15). The rulers listed in the Genesis genealogies are Jesus Christ’s historical ancestors, the people to whom God gave the promise that the Woman's Seed would crush the head of the serpent and restore paradise.” Perhaps Linsley would be better off just combining typology and archetype since it appears as if she is merely using archetypal ancestry to buttress Paul’s theory of typos. As such, we are only dealing with two practical categories, Myth proper and Christian hermeneutics. It is within Christian hermeneutics in which various theological considerations, interpretations, or readings can be had—but all of them are distinctly variant Christian formulations of the same myth.
            Case in point: when one reader asked: “What is the point of the Adam and Eve story if it is ‘only a myth’?” Linsley's replied, “The point is that God made us in the Divine Image to enjoy His fellowship and He is restoring that Image through the Divine Person Jesus Christ.”
            While this may sum up Christian orthodox conviction regarding the meaning of the allegory they find contained within the myth, it is strong misreading of the text. Linsley's answer, however, reveals a common mistake Christians make in their reasoning regarding ancient Hebrew texts. To put it plainly, such an interpretation relies on both the literal belief that the story contains reliable elements of history, that there is implied typology relating Adam (the archetypal man) to Jesus Christ (the perfected man), that the allegory all points toward and defines Jesus ultimate destiny—the Edenic Promise—the imputation of Christ’s righteousness and the salvation belief in him brings—his atonement freeing us from the curse of the serpent. This Christian reading is rather contrived, convoluted, and strained. Forcing to myth to mean all this requires lots of theological tap dancing, and pulling meanings out of thin air, all of which may dazzle those in the pew with illusions of deeper hidden meanings and profound truths just beneath the surface of the myth, when in actuality all of this is blatant theological fabrication.
            Myths are typically rudimentary—they are stories with morals—but they do not contain advanced theology or even Christology of the type alluded to in Linsley’s answer. The thing I have always found disturbing about this interpretation of the Adam and Eve fable is how easily contemporary Christians make an ancient Hebrew fable into a story about the Christian savior. Jesus would not have read the Adam and Eve myth the way Paul did, and so it seems strange to assume he did. Forcing the Hebrew meaning of the story into the straight-jacket of Christian faith does not help to elucidate the unadulterated meaning of the potent fable.

The Moral of the Story
            If we read the Adam and Eve story, and look for the moral, the moral cannot be a “Christian” moral, because the story is not (and never was) intended to be just a Christian story. It was a Hebrew fable, and one which may have originated in other cultures, so it may have simply been borrowed and adapted to fit Jewish culture and tradition. Only to be borrowed and adapted, again, to fit Christian culture. My point is, however, the moral of the Adam and Eve story, if we are to assume it’s no more that a myth, is not that God made us in the divine image of Jesus Christ—that’s the Christian rendition in which Christian salvation theology is superimposed onto a familiar story but these theological considerations aren’t in play in the narrative itself.
            Yet why is it so crucial for Christians to believe in the Garden of Eden story? Because it is where the concept of “original sin” comes from. If this story wasn’t told, then Jesus wouldn’t have had to die for humanity, and that would have meant his life and death were ultimately meaningless (from a theological perspective). If there is no “fall from Grace” it would imply Jesus needn’t have died for us in the first place. So it’s better for a Christian to believe in a talking snake than to admit that. After all, a sinless Christian wouldn’t need saving (i.e., redemption) from sin. So the emphasis of the Christology is on the salvation aspect of the story.
           This overlay of Christian salivation theology onto the Adam and Eve myth, however, is extremely complicated for reasons Rabbi Harold Kushner has observed. If Adam and Eve did not yet possess the knowledge of “good and evil” this means they had no inkling of rebellion or mischievousness, since to disobey God requires, first and foremost, a certain prerequisite of naughtiness. The rabbi points out that Jewish and Christian religions reinforce feelings of guilt and inadequacy by using the story of the “Fall” of Adam and Eve to teach that humankind’s spiritual inadequacies are inherent, but Kushner believes the Adam and Eve story to be about a primeval couple coming to terms with their imperfections as they learn to face the world head on.  I agree with Kushner’s assessment that the story is a coming of age fable, not a tale about corruption, when he affirms, “I would to suggest that the story of the Garden of Eden is a tale, not of Paradise Lost but of Paradise Outgrown, not of Original Sin but of the Birth of Conscience.” [3] 
            Adam and Evel clearly did not know that eating the forbidden fruit would be “wrong.” All they knew was that God warned them not to eat it—but God never said anything about whether it would be “wrong” to ignore his command or, equally, whether an honest bout of forgetfulness is somehow “wrong.” In either case, not knowing any better Adam and Eve cannot be held accountable for any perceived wrongs incurred—they simply did not have the ability to discern from right or wrong. Only by the coercion of a magical talking snake could Adam and Eve be compelled to do wrong. In which case they, having no knowledge of what constitutes right from wrong, would still be guiltless because they would not be aware they were actually doing anything wrong. Simply put, Adam and Eve were the victims of having been deceived (by God mind you, not the snake). Besides this, wouldn’t gaining knowledge be a good thing unto itself? As the philosopher Dan Dennett has pondered, “But what good to us is the gods’ knowledge if we can‘t get it from them?”[4]
            From a theological perspective God’s denying Adam and Eve the knowledge required to tell whether or not the snake’s advice was in itself a transgression against God’s law seems to suggest God had the means to educate Adam and Eve according to his will but chose not to. This begs the question of whether or not they had any choice at all in the matter, since even if Adam and Eve had free will they still would require the knowledge of good and evil prior to making their decision to “rebel” in order for God to say they breached his law. Not having the knowledge required, there is no transgression, because they simply didn’t know any better. Free will is beside the point however, since there is nothing intrinsic to having free will that would suggest Adam and Eve enact an immoral action over a moral one—it seems having free will the probability of one performing a moral action is equal to performing an immoral action. Therefore the onus is on the Christian to explain why Adam and Eve necessarily chose to perform the immoral action.
            This brings us back to the talking snake, of course. But why did God create a talking snake in the first place? What was the purpose of that, we might ask, seeing as Genesis 3:1 explicitly claims the serpent in question was one of the beasts which the Lord God had made (Gen 3:1-2). From a theological perspective such story elements are problematic at best, but from a myth based reading having a serpent in the Garden of Eden makes perfect sense.

Parallel Myths: Serpents and Trees of Knowledge
            Many types of ancient serpents, often being used interchangeably with dragons, dwelt in trees and spoke to humans.  All you need do it go online and Google “mythical snakes” to find out about these serpentine creatures’ tree hugging habits:
In many myths the chthonic serpent (sometimes a pair) lives in or is coiled around a Tree of Life situated in a divine garden. In the Genesis story of the Torah and Biblical Old Testament the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is situated in the Garden of Eden together with the tree of immortality. In Greek mythology Ladon is coiled around the tree in the garden of the Hesperides protecting the entheogenic golden apples.  Similarly Níðhöggr the dragon of Norse mythology gnaws the roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree.  Under yet another Tree (the Bodhi tree of Enlightenment), the Buddha sat in ecstatic meditation. When a storm arose, the mighty serpent king Mucalinda rose up from his place beneath the earth and enveloped the Buddha in seven coils for seven days, not to break his ecstatic state.[5] 

            Undoubtedly these myths reveal themselves for what they are with a little exercise in common sense reason.  The absurdity in believing in talking, or for that matter flying, snakes should be all too obvious to anybody who has a firm grasp of myth, fable, and folklore.[6]
            Subsequently, most sophisticated theologians do not consider the Garden of Eden story about Adam and Eve (and a talking snake) historical. Rightly so, since there are no historical artifacts remaining to tether such a fabulous tale to reality. Yet some theologians, even while admitting the mythical elements of the story, still consider it rooted in history.
            On his blog Standing on My Head, Father Longenecker challenges us by asking:
Why does it matter if the first twelve chapters of Genesis are recounting historical events or not? It matters because the whole rest of the Old Testament record is clearly a presentation of God's interaction in history—God's interaction in the history of the Hebrew people, and this historical interaction lays the foundation for the ultimate historical interaction by God with his people—the incarnation of his Son.

He goes on to clarify:
What do I mean when I say that these stories 'act on us as myth does'? Myth connects with the deeper parts of our shared consciousness within our humanity. Great stories of mythical heroes who go on a quest, interactions with gods and goddesses, all the great stories of the world engage us at a deep level and we connect with the events and drama in a ceremonial and symbolic way using a language that is deeper than words and explications. The stories of the beginning of Genesis do as well, with the exception that these are not fanciful stories as the pagan myths are, but stories based in real events…. This prepares the way for the 'myth that really happened' in the incarnation, life, death and resurrection of the Lord.[7]

            Father Longenecker’s statement that “The stories of the beginning of Genesis… are not fanciful stories as the pagan myths are, but stories based in real events…” seems rather a ludicrious claim, especially when he has already affirmed it was mostly legend incorporating strong psychological language and symbols interacting with our consciousness.
            Personally, I find Father Longenecker’s claim that the Adam and Eve story is a legend rooted in historical truth a little farfetched. After all, the tale of King Arthur is a legend, Robin Hood is a legend, Jolly old St. Nicholas has been lengendized and mythologized, but Adam and Eve have never been proved to be anything other than mythical.
            Assuming the story did have an element of history to it, we might ask, part of the story is historically accurate exactly? Could it be the part about a man being made from clay? According to Genesis 2:7 “And the Lord god formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” Well, sorry to say, but we know this is false. Mankind was not formed from a clump of clay, rather humans evolved from a common primate ancestor (a scientifically validated fact).
            Perhaps more importantly however, we know the claim that a deity forged mankind from clay is not at all uncommon to the realm of myth. The Greeks believed this same myth, most prominently detailed in the myth of Prometheus. Hesiod (c. 700 BCE) wrote that Prometheus shaped man out of mud, and Athena breathed life into his clay figure, meanwhile Pandora, the first mortal woman, was formed by Hephaestus on behest of almighty Zeus. Likewise, in the ancient Babylonian creation myth, Enuma Elish, the goddess Ninhursag created humans from clay. Also, in Africa, the Yoruba culture holds that the god Obatala likewise created the human race out of clay. In Egyptian mythology, the ram-headed god Khnum made people from clay in the waters of the Nile. In Chinese myth, the goddess Nuwa created the first humans from mud and clay. A Mayan myth holds that Tepeu and Kukulkán (Quetzalcoatl) made the first humans from clay, along with the Māori people of New Zealand who believe that Tāne Mahuta, god of the forest, created the first woman out of clay and breathed life into her. The common themes of fashioning humans from clay and deities breathing life into them has been with us, in various forms, for centuries.
            What, other than special pleading, can Father Longenecker offer in the way of evidence that the first few chapters of Genesis are more historically accurate than these other myths? There is nothing that I am aware of. Moreover, why are we asked merely to agree that the fable of a talking snake is not any more fanciful than any other story or myth? Again, there is nothing to suggest it is. It is merely a case of special pleading—which is proved in the very next sentence when Longenecker claims these stories are based in real events. As we have seen, however, we can’t seem to find any “real” events which would demarcate this myth from a long history of equivalent myths.
            Maybe we have overlooked a specific element unique to the Adam and Eve story which would tie it to genuine history and make it historically sound. Are talking snakes, full of guile and charm, perhaps a historical reality? Nope. Maybe a tree of knowledge with magical fruit? No, I'm afraid not. Why not? Because this too is a common theme in various world religions, according to Wikipedia:
Similar trees appear in other religions. Stories with male, female, serpent, and tree can be found depicted on Mesopotamian cylinder seals dating as far back as 2200 B.C. But they are very unlikely to constitute a source for the author of Genesis because they do not connect very well with the Genesis account. According to Toledoth Hypothesis, sources probably did exist for the writing of Genesis that extend into history even earlier than 2200 B.C. but they would have belonged to someone in the genealogical line of Abraham. In the closest, most relevant comparison, the iconic image of the tree guarded by the Serpent appears on Sumerian seals; much later, it is the central feature of the Garden of the Hesperides in Greek mythology, where the guardian serpent receives the name Ladon.[8]

            The Greek serpent Ladon guards the magic golden apples which either connotes a borrowing or a shared influence regarding the tree in the Garden of Eden which, likewise, has magical fruit guarded by a serpent. The themes are just too congruent to discount: tree of knowledge, magic fruit, and guardian serpent. Meanwhile Buddhism mythology claims the king of the serpents Mucalinda rose up and coiled itself around the meditating Buddha who sat under the Bodhi tree of knowledge, aiding in his meditation allowing him to achieve a higher consciousness. Similarly, Adam and Eve gain a higher consciousness after eating of the fruit containing ‘the knowledge of good and evil’ which the serpent helped them to acquire.
            Nor is the tree of life (sometimes called the tree of knowledge) unique to Christianity. It’s an ancient motif found in: Ancient Egypt, Assyria, the Baha'i Faith, China, Germanic paganism and Norse mythology, Jewish sources, Christianity, India, the Turkish world, Urartu, Mesoamerica, and among other cultures.[9]
            So although I do not disagree with Longenecker's assessment about the profundity of symbolism and powerful language usage in literature, I must question his judgment when it comes to determining the difference between history and myth.
 
Myth forced into Literal Representations of History
            We understand human experience constitutes our basic makeup of history—but books of fable and myth which relate to the greater human experience are, in themselves, not valid substitutes for any specified history. It’s best to keep this in mind when claiming that certain myths are historically true rather than simply containing historically viable artifacts.
            After all, King Kong climbed the Empire State Building, but this doesn’t make the urban-jungle climbing antics of King Kong historically true. We all know it’s a fiction with historical elements and artifacts. Whereas, with the Adam and Eve fable, the only historical fact seems to be that men and women are known to exist. But this is not a strong enough basis to claim the overall story is based on history. After all, monkeys exist, but we don’t automatically assume that King Kong must have been real because monkeys are real. This is faulty reasoning, and it is a mistake religious believers frequently make when they want to gleam a literal meaning from a metaphor or myth.
            The Christian historian Thom Stark, in his book The Human Faces of God, clarifies this point when he talks about another Bible story habitually mistaken as a literal representation of history, which is the story of Jonah and his “whale.” Stark asserts, “Aspects of the story such as Jonah's being swallowed by a large fish, then spat out in one piece onto dry land several days later, are big clues that what we are dealing with is a fictional short story with a theological message.”
            I posit the same is true of the Garden of Eden story involving Adam and Eve, it involves a tree of knowledge with magical fruit, and a dubious talking serpent—all of it evidence that it is a fictional story with a moral message. As such, it shouldn’t need repeating, that there is nothing to distinguish the Adam and Eve story as anything other than myth, and I’m afraid it appears Father Longenecker is wrong to talk about any “historical” basis for the Adam and Eve myth.
            Finding a serpent in the garden makes more sense as a guardian of knowledge minus the superimposed Christian theology. Let’s not forget that Yahweh boasts to Job of taming the great serpent (Job 41:1-4) so it is no surprise that we find his pet in the garden, doing his biding. Yet Christians tend to need to believe in the talking snake, because without it, then there is no such thing as “original sin.” Therefore imputation would be erroneous—Christ’s righteousness would not have been imputed to us. New Testament scholar and theologian Robert M. Price informs us that the gospel author Matthew likely intended to use serpent imagery to foreshadow Jesus’ death and resurrection.

Not that in the old Testament, Egypt is sometimes connected with Rahab the sea monster, whose defeat at the dawn of time made Yahve king of all gods (Ps. 89:10, “You crushed Rahap like a carcass,” and cf. Ps. 74:13b-14a, “You crushed the heads of the Leviathan”). Isa. 52:9-10 makes the exodus from Egypt a kind of historical replay of the primordial victory over the dragon, equating Rahab and Egypt… The flight into Egypt has the child Jesus already going down into Rahab, the belly of the sea beast, Egypt.[10]

            Matthew used the story to mold Jesus to the hero archetype—thus he fabricated an epic origin tale, with a virgin birth he lifted from Isaiah 7, all to enhance the narrative of the coming savior of all mankind. Thus, this theology get’s overlaid back onto the Adam and Eve myth, since it too involves the serpent, which no, conveniently enough, has taken on the dual meaning supplied by Matthew—the serpent is not only symbolic of Jesus destiny to overcome the darkness, but it now symbolizes his true foil—that which brought the darkness (i.e., the fall from grace) in the first place.
            Later on this contrived Christian mythology gets conflated with the Satan character, as Rev. 12:9 calls the Devil, Satan, that old serpent who was cast out into the earth. Theologians then latched onto this verse in order to support their hypothesis that the serpent in the Garden of Eden was actually Satan in disguise. So Christians posit that the talking snake was a serpentine Satan in disguise. Why? Because Satan is called the “serpentine” foe of Jesus Christ, that old serpent, the dragon in the book of Revelation, and it only makes theological sense that he would be around to set the playing field for Christ’s great final act of atonement—otherwise what use would be calling Satan a serpent?
            Imaginative speculation sure, but it is purely conjecture. Such a reading is taking far too many liberties with what the story might possibly mean if, and like the author Matthew lifting verses out of context, in a stunning display of selectivity Christians daisy-chains the “serpent” verses together (even though they aren’t technically related) thereby creating an entirely new Christian mythos, one revolving around “original sin” and involving serpents, but in actuality has absolutely nothing in common with the original Hebrew Garden of Eden myth. As Matthew Fox reminds us, the concept of original sin is not found in Jewish thought, but it wholly a Christian invention. Fox states, “Even thought the Jewish people knew Genesis for a thousand years before Christians, they do not read original sin into it. As … Elie Wiesel points out, ‘the concept of original sin is alien to Jewish tradition…”[11] Likewise, the Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggeman mentions the third chapter of Genesis was not written to depict the fall of humanity from any state of perfection, informing, “This text is commonly treated as the account of ‘the fall.’ Nothing could be more remote from the narrative itself. In general, the Old Testament does not assume such a ‘fall.’ Deuteronomy 30:11-14 is more characteristic in its assumption that humankind can indeed obey the purposes of God.”[12]

Identifying the Universal Moral
            Instead, the moral to the Adam and Eve myth is nowhere as tortuous as the Christian rendition makes it. As we’ve seen, once you strip away the Christian theology you will discover a much more simplistic Hebrew myth underneath. Since myths must contain universal morals for us to find them universally meaningful, it stems to reason, the moral of the Adam and Eve story is not what Christians typically think it is (given that such a moral would be confined to Christian theology and apply only to Christians). Rather, I posit, the Garden of Eden story is a coming of age tale about growing up and becoming adults and rebelling against one’s parents—then taking on the consequences and burdens of adulthood without your father’s continued pampering.
            Contrary to what Christians typically think, God is not testing his Children’s love or loyalty, preparing them for the journey. God, as the archetypal Father, is preparing his children to make the transition into adulthood. Being a cunning father, he does what any wise parent would, uses reverse psychology, and tells his children not to do something he knows they can’t possibly resist the temptation to do—like sticking one’s hand in the cookie jar after explicitly being instructed not to.
            Thus they partake in eating the forbidden fruit. Meanwhile, the serpent never actually lies. He merely brings Eve the message that the tree contains knowledge, and that it can be used for food, and Even finds both things are true. This knowledge she shares with her husband Adam. The sin of disobedience is not the real offense—because as I have stated they simply did not have the capacity to tell right from wrong. Holding them accountable would be unjust not to mention unethical.
            Once they gain the knowledge of good and evil, we might say, is when they fully become adults, and the signs are obvious. First they become aware of their own nakedness, an obvious allegory for puberty. Next, having taken it upon themselves to clothe their bodies God discovers them, scolds them for disobeying his command (as if they ever had a choice), and gives them “punishments”—God curses Adam to toil the land and woman to suffer child labor. The snake gets off Scot-free (since his only punishment was to slither on his belly the rest of his days—but as a snake which already slithered on his belly, I’m not sure it was actually that much of a punishment). Obviously these curses are not meant to be taken literally, since it is a no-brainer that work is hard, giving child birth is even harder, and snakes slither on their abdomens. Even so, myths are designed to explain things, such as earthquakes, lightning and thunder, as well as why we suffer, and for this reason we find that the Adam and Eve myth reads splendidly as an allegory for the responsibly we must endure as able adults. Here is where the moral of the story is to be found.
            Indeed, such a coming of age story is commonplace among ancient fairytales and folklore. The folktale Little Red Riding Hood contains a similar message—that it’s important to listen to your mother lest you fall victim to the cruelties and darkness of the world. Anyone who has read the original versions of the Little Redcap maidenhood fable knows that it’s also a coming of age fable about womanhood. It’s not, however, a theological explication for why the Goddess Freya loves all those who worship her. The fact that both are pagan folklore, or the fact that there is a talking wolf in one (rather than a talking snake),[13] are not reasons enough to make the strange conflation that Christians do when they combine a fable of a snake with the unrelated salvation theology of a highly evolved Christian oriented Christology. Indeed, combining the fable of Little Red Riding Hood to Norse mythology is the same sort of weirdness Christian theologians are asking us to buy into when they say things like the Garden of Eden story is about “original sin” or a “fall from grace.”
            At any rate, to say the point of the Adam and Eve myth has anything to do with Jesus is simply incorrect. I’m sorry, but Jesus doesn’t even enter the equation, the fable just doesn’t have anything to do with a Jewish rabbi in first century Palestine, let alone anything to do with his destiny, and it’s a big give away that only Christians make this mistake. Adam and Eve have nothing to do with Jesus. Although, a fair critic may point out that Jews might go as far as to maintain that Adam was the original man—the archetypal ancestor of all Jews—as well as the whole of the human race, but that’s where the similarity ends. As such we can be sure that any introduction of Christology is merely a later theological concern of uncritical Christians.

Conclusion
            In order for the myth to contain a universal moral it has to relate to human experience universally. Since the Christian version only relates to Christians, and no one else, it is a good bet that the Christian reading is heavily predisposed to the Christian worldview, and cannot contain the intended moral for a broader multicultural readership. Therefore I find Linsley’s reading of the Adam and Eve myth rather colored by an obvious Christian bias, by superimposing Jesus onto a story that’s not actually about Jesus. Genesis is not about Christ and some Edenic Promise—Jesus is not the seed for which will crush the serpent—because as you will recall, this is Paul’s theological vision derived, most likely, from the serpent symbolism, a distinctive literary artifact, implanted into the Gospels by Matthew. At the same time Father Longenecker is mistaken when he claims that Adam and Eve had a basis in history or that it is more historically reliable than other myths. As we have seen, the first few chapters of Genesis, involving Eden, are entirely without historical support. Also, the serpent (the garden pet, more or less) is not entirely a bad figure. Contrary to his bad reputation he’s actually quite honest, loyal, and he doesn’t complain and these are all good virtues. At the same time, the serpent shares his own archetypal template with other guardian serpents which guard trees of life and knowledge.  The moral, as I have pinpointed it, is merely to prepare us the way to adulthood by explaining the responsibilities one will have to take on as they become independent individuals apart from paternal guidance. That’s the universal message contained within the fable—it’s the moral at the core—and it’s a message which constantly gets overwritten in favor of the Christian one—which is, in my opinion, wholly unfortunate. All the same, we now know that the Adam and Eve story is just like any other origin myth—nothing more and nothing less—and that’s a good revelation to share.



            [2] Randel Helms, Gospel Fictions, p. ***
            [3] Harold Kushner, How Good Do We Have to Be?, p. ***
            [4] Dan Dennett, Breaking the Spell, p. ***
[5] There’s no excuse to remain unenlightened on the matter of talking snakes and religious superstition, not with the powerful tool of the Internet at our finger tips. See: “Serpents (symbolism),” Wikipedia.org, available online:
Retrieved on: 9/20/2008
[6] I may have to retract this comment, since a recent Harris study which polled what people reasonably believe finds that 50% of Christians believe the ‘Adam and Eve’ story to be the direct cause of evil in the world, while another 55% believe that the snake and Satan were interchangeably the same figure responsible for the downfall of all mankind.  How is this thinking at all healthy?  For more startling statistics regarding what Christians in America believe refer to: http://www.samharris.org/site/full_text/survey-what-do-atheists-and-christians-believe-and-how-strongly-do-they-bel/
            [9] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tree_of_life
            [10] Robert M. Price, The Incredible Shrinking Son of Man, p.***
            [11] Quoted in: The Hell Jesus Never Intended by Keith Wright, p. ***
            [12] Ibid.
            [13] In the earliest versions of the Redcap fable there was no wolf—but rather a hairy and monstrous man who was described as wolf-life. See: Nortons Anthology of Children’s Literature, p. ***

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