The Martyrdom of a Molehill?!

The according to George Bernard Shaw:

“Martyrdom … is the only way in which a man can become famous without ability.”

This may be true, but the inverse is certainly not true.

That is, this may be true of the man without ability, but isn’t true of all men who have been martyred. Just because a man was martyred does not mean that he was without ability. This is a non sequitur. It doesn’t follow.  To imply that all martyrs, having become famous, were unable men. It doesn’t follow.

You might argue that he did not say this. True. But most cognizant people would be aware of what he is meaning to say. You might argue that I am making a mountain out of a molehill. Perhaps you are correct. But even molehills are an annoyance to the well-kept lawn of reason and rationality.

If you are right, then Mr. George has said nothing profound and if he reputation were to hinge upon this one statement, then he ought to put his preaching to practice. If I am right, then Mr. George has said something that doesn’t follow. He is attempting to affirm the consequent and there is nothing there but a pile of dirt. A reminder of a rat-like creature that is mostly blind to the rest of reality.

It is merely a molehill of irrationality.
It is merely an annoyance to be pushed to the side.

The Sap Ran Out In Eternity Past?!

 

The gospel according to Marquis de Sade:

“The universe runs itself, and the eternal laws inherent in Nature suffice, without any first cause or prime mover.”

If the universe were a tree, then how did it come to be (“eternal” law of cause and effect). I am but a branch that branched off of the branch of my parents. My parents were caused to exist by their parents and so the regression begins to climb down the branches of the family tree. Presumably, this tree includes the ancestors that caused humans to exist and so we find Darwin climbing down to the trunk of the tree.

Climbing down the branches to the trunk suggests some sort of beginning?

The existence of the tree can only be explained by the seed that started it all. But the seed also requires explanation. What caused the seed to be? To say that the seed came from another tree would be to suggest multiple universes which is quite fascinating and without substantive evidence. Literally. With that said, this universe would have a first cause and a prime mover. The seed. Therefore this line of reasoning doesn’t apply to the claims of Mr. Marquis.

Climbing up the branches to the canopy implicates some sort of beginning?

In climbing upwards and towards the outer branches, there is a realization to the limits that are present. Limits that don’t reflect an eternal tree that has always been. Each branch takes sap from the branch that it branched off of and in that process some sap is lost (“eternal” second law of thermodynamics). Certain conclusions can be made about the trunk of the tree without having to climb back down. IF energy is sapped out in the branching out and IF the tree started its growing in eternity past, THEN the tree would have run out of sap before arriving at the branches that we find ourselves perched on.

A limited supply of sap being used up in the smallest portions with run out before eternity does. Another “eternal” law points to some sort of a beginning.

The universe would be sapped out.

Taking a sip of something worth knowing?!

The gospel according to H.L. Mencken:

“THEOLOGY—An effort to explain the unknowable by putting it into terms of the not worth knowing.”

Amusing. I do recognize the limits of describing the limitless and of finite expressions of the infinite. As do most theologians. But we have to start somewhere.

Can water quench thirst without having to drink up the ocean?
Can air breath in life without having to inhale the sky?
Can ground be stood on without having to move the continent?

For some the water has gone rancid, the air has become stale and the ground has become shifting sand. For them drinking, breathing and standing has lost its wonder and so they sit in their ivory towers and assume that their witty cliches will carry the day. For them these things are not worth doing.

For most of us, knowing a little of the unknown is worth knowing.

Figuring out who the finger is pointing at?!

 

The gospel according to Dave Matthews:

“If there is a God, a caring God, then we would have to figure that he’s done an extraordinary job of making a very cruel world.” 

We see evil and can only blame someone else for it. We experience the twisted reality that we live in and then turn it into questions towards God. It seems that this is more of an excuse not to believe in God. It is a denial of who is really responsible.

Let us assume that atheists are right: God does not exist.

Why ask the question? Why make the statement? What a tired rhetorical tool that misses the point. There is no One who made the world. But we are still left with a cruel world. The finger points at us. We are to blame for most of the cruelty that is experienced in this world. Certainly one could blame religion as many are in the habit of doing. But if religion is merely an invention, then the inventors are to be blamed. This is still a cruel world. The finger is still points at us.

“If there is no God, then we would have to figure out some one else to blame for the extraordinary job of making a very cruel world.”

We would have to figure out why the finger is pointing in our general direction and yet we are not the ones to be blamed for such a cruel reality. That God-deniers  are God-blamers is not only disingenuous but philosophically dishonest. Let us not forget that the One who is being blamed does not exist. The highly evolved finger points in a different direction.

The finger still points to how extraordinarily cruel we can be.

We may want to point the finger at God, but let us not forget that random mutations have given us three other fingers that are pointing right back at us. So by evolutionary standards we are at least three-times more responsible for evil than the God whom we invented and now deny for our purposes.

Wanting to Turn Toys into Bricks?!

The gospel according to Christopher Marlowe:

“I count religion but a childish toy. And hold there is no sin but ignorance.”

And with a smug look and a kind remark Mr. Christopher has dismantled so much of the architecture that shapes the structure of faith communities everywhere. The wrecking ball of his wit has turned the church into a pile of bricks.

“Well done,” I say, “well done.”

But what of this matter that the child plays with?
It seems that most children are inquisitive and caught up in the wonder of everything around them. Certainly our simple explanations of life’s complexities may satisfy for a time.  However, more often then not, we have made life seem more complex so that we might do what we WANT to do and not what we OUGHT to do. Children have a keener sense—arguably a more honest feel—for what ought to be done. So we are faced with the challenge of explaining why he only gets to spend time with his father on the weekends.  Life is complex. Or there is the difficulty of explaining why one parent has just overdosed after another hit. Life is complex. Or there is the insistence that the child is loved with the proof of an expensive gift. Life is complex. Too often we find ourselves justifying the pursuits of our WANTS.

Children have a sense of what OUGHT to be. Albeit in their simplicity, there is this lingering sense of what is right and wrong and somehow we find ourselves on the wrong side and so we must justify why we are there and so we explain it away as life being complex.

“Well done,” I say, “well done.”

So what is it that the child plays with?
Do children really play with ignorance? Is it merely a toy that they manipulate into whatever fantasy their imagination takes them? Perhaps they find themselves in a world where their parents love each other and haven’t gotten divorced, whose faculties are fully functional, and who express love to him in relational ways rather than seeking to purchase it with the more expensive toy that he is playing with at the present time.

The ignorance of a child isn’t that they don’t know everything, but that they can’t comprehend the complexity of life that would force someone to act against those realities that the child know ought to be.

Now what is it that religion plays with?
It seems to me that there are at least two reasons why we don’t like religion: we think that in its complexity it lets some do what they WANT (and ought not) to do, or in its simplicity it commands us to do what we OUGHT (and don’t want) to do.

Perhaps for many of us there is just enough of both that gives us enough bricks to build a wall between us and religious institutions or at least toss a few bricks in their general direction. I grant this.

Ought we to reflect upon why the rubble is all around us before we start building walls? Should we not consider why we have this inclination to build walls to block any other authority on our lives? Would it not be time well spent if we took the time to think of why we have this propensity to build our own autonomy?

Perhaps we ought to ask ourselves if the world would be a better place if we simply began doing what we OUGHT to do and letting go of the complications of doing what we WANT to do.

What if we took the bricks and built bridges or houses or sculptures?
What if we built something of beauty?

Then “well done,” I would say, “well done.”

When Thinking My Own Thoughts Makes Me Sick?!

The gospel according to Sinclair Lewis:

“It is, I think, an error to believe that there is any need of religion to make life seem worth living.”

Some have chosen to keep their heads in the clouds—or in the sand for that matter—rather than think to the logical extent of their own philosophical underpinnings, others have realized the “NAUSEA” of lives lived within a purely secular construct. Its too gritty.

Jean-Paul Sartre wrote with a sense of discomfort to the purely material life.

It was Repulsive.
It was Nauseous.
It was without a grander picture of life, leaving one with a sick sort of feeling in the stomach. The assault of the physical world upon the person—who is more than just bits of matter—results in a sort of existential angst.

There seems to be more.

Though Mr. Sinclair had a decided disadvantage in this respect, Sartre wrote this book about 9 years after his death. Certainly such ideas weren’t invented by the author but merely brought to light in a fresh way. Much of the angst that was experienced by people who believed that religion had died with the Medieval Era was the consequence of reducing life to bits and pieces of existence.

Perhaps Mr. Sinclair is right on the mark.

“It is, I think, an error to believe that there is any need of religion to make life SEEM worth living.”

So it seems that his careful wording offers of way of pursuing the life of worth while not determining what it means to have worth. Perhaps the question ought to be worded with this in mind.

What makes life worth living?
What makes life seem worth living?

Arguably, the first question speaks of a certainty that one often finds within the walls of a church. But let us not forget that church walls are built on belief. This is truth in advertising. Admittedly, the second question has an appearance of the first without any of the certainty. Let us take note when those of a certain creed not found in church documents begin to speak with greater certainty than their foundation can muster. There is some underhanded business going on.

Along with this certainty come a nausea that sickens the soul of man.

This thought can make a man sick.

A Baron Is Just Another Pauper to a Child?!

The gospel according to Baron d’Holbach:

“All children are atheists—they have no idea of God.”

The lunacy of this statement is obvious when applied to many ideas of inquiry that are accepted as true, but from a child’s perspective seem ridiculous. They have no idea of quantum physics, of calculus, of classic literature, of evolutionary biology, of philosophy, and of the higher realms of education and knowledge could go on almost ad nauseum. Not having any idea of something is no basis to conclude that they believe in its nonexistence.

Is it warranted to determine a belief system before a person can grapple with such ideas?

What of their knowledge of self?
Children (as well as adults) may not fully know or even grasp the idea of self and yet they still possess of working knowledge of its reality. The inability to express oneself doesn’t necessarily limit one’s idea of self in relation to others. Even babies have a rudimentary grasp of self and have been known to imitate what they see. They are aware in a limited sense of their own identity. They have self-awareness.

It would be far more accurate to say the following:

“All children are agnostic—they have no knowledge of God.”

Even then, this statement could be questioned with many lines of reasoning. Would a child naturally look at the complexity of the world and have an idea that Someone designed it? Its likely. Would a child naturally look at the relationship structure within a full family unit and consider a heavenly Father? Its possible. Would a child naturally look at this messed up world and long for a time when the evil is gone and things are as they ought to be? It is likely.

If I had no idea of the original quote by the baron, could I argue for the non-existence of such a quote? Perhaps I would even have warrant. In fact, in the time it has taken for me to write this blog a great number of children have been born with no idea of what I just wrote. Since this is the case, I can’t even be certain that what I just wrote I just wrote.

They have no idea, therefore the ideas must be suspect.
They have no idea of what a baron is, therefore his class-standing is suspect.

A baron is just another pauper to a child.

“All children are of equal standing—they have no idea of the Baron.”

The Sun Also Rises On His Overstatements?!

The gospel according to Ernest Hemingway:

“All thinking men are atheists.”

There are many who would not only think to disagree, but would go toe to toe with Mr. Ernest. The debate would be thought-provoking. All one would have to do to dispel the merit of this statement is to listen to several debates from different people on both sides of the fence to realize that thoughtfulness abounds irrespective of the picket fence. Certainly you would find fools on both sides, as well as a spectrum of aptitude in between. Let us not forget of those people who are indecisively but thoughtfully perched on the fence.

Are all thinking men atheists?

How bold does one have to be to say such a thing? How vapid of thought does an author have to be to write such a thought down? One only has to find a single thinking man who is not an atheist to refute such a statement. The danger of all-exclusive statements is that only one exception will reveal its feebleness.

If this statement were true, then we can conclude at least this one thing:

“All thinking men [and Mr. Ernest Hemingway] are atheists.”

This quote was also recorded on the back of this book that was immaculately conceived by Joan Konner and was surrounded by these words:

“‘All thinking men are atheists,’ Ernest Hemingway famously wrote. True? Here are quips, quotes, and questions from a distinguished assortment of geniuses and jokers, giving readers a chance to decide for themselves….”

This was followed by quotes from the likes of Wilde, Bierce, Stein, Nietzche, Ertz, Lee, Emerson, and Shaw. Quite tellingly, this collection of thoughts are almost in their entirety being voiced by people on one side of the fence. It seems that the opportunity of “giving readers a chance to decide for themselves” is a wee-bit disingenuous. Is this not a classic example of stacking the deck?!

Perhaps Mr. Ernest’s statement ought to be modified once more:

“All thinking men [and Mr. Ernest along with Mrs. Joan] are atheists.”

Can I Just Sound a Wee-bit Smarteur?!

The gospel according to John Stuart Mill:

“It is historically true that a large proportion of infidels in all ages have been persons of distinguished integrity and honour.”

How does a person determine integrity and honour? One does not have to be religious to be “good,” neither does one have to be irreligious to be “evil,” but how these terms are defined becomes the real issue.

Therein lies the rub: definitions, interpretations, and spelling.

There is tension. There is divisiveness. There is difference of opinion in how one unpacks the words: integrity, honour, infidel, good, evil, and just about any word that I have just created with the press of my fingers in an effort to communicate my thoughts. This is the reality of what we have to deal with.

Words carry weight and meaning to individuals as they are shaped by culture, upbringing, education, experiences, presuppositions, and a whole host of diverse elements. This reality shapes our definitions, interpretations and spellings.

Integrity.
Arguably, if a person describes integrity as being true to one’s self, then the justification of cultural vices would fall into the category of “integrity.” He is merely a reflection of lower geographic regions of America and so his racism is just him being true to himself. This is a man of integrity. She can do nothing but succumb to the bottle for both her parents were given to excessive drink and so her alcoholism is just her being true to herself. This is a woman of integrity.

However, if integrity is defined by something other than the individual which elevates certain qualities above others and labels them virtuous, then the striving after and living within the constriants of such things would be make such an individual a person of integrity.

Honour.
It same kind of way as honour is unpacked it expresses the same kinds of peculiarities with at least one exception. As defined and interpreted by the individual it could mean a great deal of divergent notions, but as defined by the larger collective of society and civilization it takes on a shape that resists the relativism of the individual.

The one exception that I can think of has little to do with its definition or interpretation and has everything to do with its spelling. The American-side of me notices the red line that the computer has scribbled under the typed word and I come to the realization that if I just spell the word in the British matter, then I might be interpreted by some reader as being smarter.

This is really what Mr. Stuarts statement is all about.

It sounds smarter to disregard the complexity of differing civilizations and movements within these cultures and speak generally of all of it in a witty manner and say nothing in particular.

Will a smug look on my face make me appear smarter?

What about smarteur?!

The Greatest Certainty is Uncertainty?!

The gospel according to Emily Dickinson:

“Faith is doubt.”

White is black. Up is down. Faith is doubt.

To say the that “faith is doubt” is like saying “answer is question.” Certainly it is a poetic expression of some reality, but it isn’t saying much of anything. It is hard for me to believe that Ms. Dickinson’s understanding of faith can be defined with such poetic poignancy.

If not, I doubt she knows faith.

Most people would say that “faith is how one deals with doubt.” Faith becomes the bridge that spans the gap of what is known before and what is beyond knowing. In crossing the bridge, what was beyond knowing can be known adequately. For some, faith was the end of a long struggle which included a small step of warranted belief. For others, faith involved a giant leap of faith over the huge chasm of doubt. Some wrestle with issues of doubt, others don’t bother with such things.

One small step for the some men, one giant leap for most of mankind.

Then there are those who never reach this place. They never cross the bridge. They keep the distance. They remain with what is known before, but never what is beyond. The tragedy is when they start making bold statements about what is beyond. They make statements like Ms. Dickinson, but really they have built a bridge that leads back to what was known before. So much effort to get where they were before. It is not that faith IS doubt, but that they have faith IN doubt.

Faith in doubt.

This is the good news according to so many atheists or agnostics. But how certain can you be when your greatest certainty is in uncertainty? I am not sure.

To say that there is greatest certainty in uncertainty is acceptable within the context of her disillusioned poetry where she excels. But to make a categorical statement claiming that greatest certainty is uncertainty reveals where her aptitude is. How can anyone be so certain about uncertainty. Its seems so self-defeating.

It is certain that she is an excellent poet.

It is uncertain that she excels in logic or philosophy.

Perhaps she is poetically expressing her philosophy of self-defeatism.