I don’t have faith—if I did, I’d have no qualms whatsoever about facts and arguments presented by atheists. I wouldn’t be nervously claiming that the dragon is invisible. (Some people who think the apocalypse is nigh actually do stockpile canned food. That’s faith; they believe in Revelations the same way I believe in physics.) I don’t have faith, because I’m actually frightened that some archaeologist will find evidence that there wasn’t any Exodus, for instance. And the fear is really that changing my religious beliefs will make me a worse person. Less grateful? Less reverent? Less respectful? That’s the basic idea but I’m not sure if those words convey it.
To give a non-religious analogy, take the question of whether men have evolved to be irresponsible fathers. That’s an empirical question. But a man can be afraid of believing that he is, indeed, biologically designed to be an irresponsible father, because he fears that such a belief will make him actually treat his children poorly. A rational man, we’d hope, would decide “I’ll be a good father, whatever the evolutionary biologists say.” But he can only do that if he has some independent reason to be a good father, and if he’s aware he does.
A religious person wants to be a good person, and wants to have the right sort of attitude to the world. But all his reasons and motivations come from God. He could fear not believing in God because he fears not being good. Presumably, he has some other, non-God motivations for wanting to be good; but let’s say that he doesn’t know what they are. Then his fear might be justified. With no God and no principles, his behavior might actually change.
If I may extend your hypothetical frightened father metaphor: the man is worried that he is biologically designed to be an irresponsible father, but he is mistaken to worry that he will find out that he is biologically designed to be irresponsible. What he wants is to be responsible, not to think that he is responsible, so the mere fact of whether or not he knows some specific fact is not going to affect that.
Whatever the truth is, the hypothetical frightened father—and the very real frightened theists, such as yourself—already are living under whatever conditions actually hold. If the father is a responsible one, he already wins, whatever his biological predisposition was. If a theist is a good person, that theist already is a good person, whether God is real or not.
That is the first of two essential points. The second is this: if you would rather be good than not, then you are already on the right path, even if you can’t see where you are going. Others have walked this way before, and escaped into clear air.
If a theist is a good person, that theist already is a good person, whether God is real or not.
The relevant question is whether the good person would remain good after they discover God is not real. My hunch is that most people who are good would stay that way.
But I like this point:
Whatever the truth is, the hypothetical frightened father—and the very real frightened theists, such as yourself—already are living under whatever conditions actually hold.
It’s better than a hunch—it’s backed up experimentally.
I think it actually comes down to the same logical idea of The Bottom Line, the modus tollens: if the bottom line is formed through good processes, then it often remains strong even when the text above it is created through other means. You (or, I suppose, I) could write an essay on all the cases where it is what was written above the bottom line that was garbage.
But I like this point:
Whatever the truth is, the hypothetical frightened father—and the very real frightened theists, such as yourself—already are living under whatever conditions actually hold.
It occurred to me that nothing I actually revere could object to me responding to the evidence of my eyes and mind. I can’t help doing that. It can’t possibly be blameworthy.
I don’t feel that I’m losing anything right now. What I always took seriously was a sense of justice or truth. Not just mine, you understand, and maybe not a bunch of platonic forms out in the Eagle Nebula either, but something worth taking seriously. A little white light. That’s what I was afraid would go away. But I don’t think it will, now, and all the rest is just window dressing. Maybe I can even pay better attention to it without the window dressing.
I couldn’t believe I’d ever be happy like this, and maybe I’ll see my error soon enough… for so long this was something I promised myself I’d never do, a failure of will. But right now this seems … better. Actually better. Less phony. Truer to what I actually did revere all along.
Would you say that you were expending a lot of effort trying to believe things when it didn’t feel natural to believe them, and now you feel happy because that burden is lifted? Are there any other (what are the reasons) for the happiness?
Yes!
It’s that. It’s also that I’m starting to think it’s not so terrible; that I’m not a traitor to anything worth my loyalty.
Also. For a long, long time I felt that God had given up on me… that any deity would have long ago decided I was no good and put me in the reject file. God’s love was an unknown, but it seemed very, very unlikely. A more cheerful thought—but not, I think, a false one—is that there is no distance between Justice and the Judge. If I do right, there’s no additional question, “But is it good enough for God?” I’ve done right. If I learn from my mistakes and make restitution, there’s no additional “But will God forgive me?” If I’ve paid my debts, then I’ve paid my debts.
All I have to do is do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with reality. Suddenly this seems feasible as it never did before.
Just curious, based on your phrasing I would guess that you’re Jewish, and possibly orthodox (there is some precedent for that here). I pushed the big unsubscribe button in the sky two month ago myself and have gone through some of the same emotions.
Jewish, yes, orthodox, no (and always wondered about the consistency of that; if you’re already choosing not to be strictly observant, what can you then conclude?)
yeah...I should know well enough by now that there are lots of atheists floating around, but it’s nice to have extra data points, especially if they’re friendly!
Followed your recent post here and thought I’d add my support as well. I went through something very similar last Christmas (some of that story HERE) and it’s more or less ongoing. I really love how you’ve put things, especially these:
It occurred to me that nothing I actually revere could object to me responding to the evidence of my eyes and mind.
If I do right, there’s no additional question, “But is it good enough for God?” I’ve done right. If I learn from my mistakes and make restitution, there’s no additional “But will God forgive me?” If I’ve paid my debts, then I’ve paid my debts.
The relevant question is whether the good person would remain good after they discover God is not real. My hunch is that most people who are good would stay that way.
(RobinZ)
It’s better than a hunch—it’s backed up experimentally.
I guess it’s backed up, for example, by Europe as a poll in 2005 found that “18% do not believe there is any sort of spirit, god or life force.” And life in Europe is ticking along fine.
Well, my issue is that people act based on their beliefs. A father will do things for his children because he thinks he can, and thinks he should. If he reads an article in Psychology Today and doesn’t see the point any more, because baboon fathers don’t raise children, well, then, his behavior is likely to change.
The worst case scenario is believing incorrectly that it’s okay to do wrong. Believing incorrectly that it’s wrong to do something okay is not as bad; you’re mistaken, but you’re not destructive. The loss-averse strategy is to be very suspicious of claims that tell you “Relax, don’t worry, it’s all right to do X.”
A father will do things for his children because he thinks he can, and thinks he should. If he reads an article in Psychology Today and doesn’t see the point any more, because baboon fathers don’t raise children, well, then, his behavior is likely to change.
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. The solution to this dilemma is to learn more. It really isn’t so bad on the other side if you just keep walking and don’t look down.
But all his reasons and motivations come from God. He could fear not believing in God because he fears not being good.
That’s why a lot of atheist organisations exist that promote ideas like “you can be good without God”. If people can get over the belief that morality flows only from God, there aren’t so many worries about people acting worse for not being religious.
It’s kindof silly really. Socrates did a reductio on Divine Command Theory in the Euthyphro, and the Catholic Church has rejected it for related reasons for a long time now.
A religious person wants to be a good person, and wants to have the right sort of attitude to the world. But all his reasons and motivations come from God. He could fear not believing in God because he fears not being good. Presumably, he has some other, non-God motivations for wanting to be good; but let’s say that he doesn’t know what they are.
Seriously, if there were no morality, I would still have tastes, and they would still involve being fairly nice to people, but I’d generally put myself first and not worry about it. I’d sometimes be a freeloader or slacker, but not to such extremes that I could see how my actions hurt other people. I’d generally be a productive, sympathetic person, but not terribly heroic or altruistic. I would … not be much different from the way I am now. But without the guilt. Without the sense that that can’t possibly be enough.
For some of us, ‘ethics’ (here read as equivalent to ‘morality’) is an answer to the question “What should I do (or want)?”, which is equivalent to “What do I have most reason to do (or want)?”. If you care about the answers to questions like “Should I order a hamburger or a hot dog?” and “Should I drink this bottle of drain cleaner?” and “Should I put myself first?” then you care about ethics.
If I offer you a bottle of drain cleaner to drink and you refuse it, and I ask you, “What reason did you have for refusing it?” and you give me any answer, then you’re not an ethical nihilist; you think there is something to ethical questions.
Of course, some would not cast such a broad net in their definition of ‘ethics’, but I don’t tend to find such theories of ethics very useful.
Late to the game, but I’m precisely in this boat.
I don’t have faith—if I did, I’d have no qualms whatsoever about facts and arguments presented by atheists. I wouldn’t be nervously claiming that the dragon is invisible. (Some people who think the apocalypse is nigh actually do stockpile canned food. That’s faith; they believe in Revelations the same way I believe in physics.) I don’t have faith, because I’m actually frightened that some archaeologist will find evidence that there wasn’t any Exodus, for instance. And the fear is really that changing my religious beliefs will make me a worse person. Less grateful? Less reverent? Less respectful? That’s the basic idea but I’m not sure if those words convey it.
To give a non-religious analogy, take the question of whether men have evolved to be irresponsible fathers. That’s an empirical question. But a man can be afraid of believing that he is, indeed, biologically designed to be an irresponsible father, because he fears that such a belief will make him actually treat his children poorly. A rational man, we’d hope, would decide “I’ll be a good father, whatever the evolutionary biologists say.” But he can only do that if he has some independent reason to be a good father, and if he’s aware he does.
A religious person wants to be a good person, and wants to have the right sort of attitude to the world. But all his reasons and motivations come from God. He could fear not believing in God because he fears not being good. Presumably, he has some other, non-God motivations for wanting to be good; but let’s say that he doesn’t know what they are. Then his fear might be justified. With no God and no principles, his behavior might actually change.
If I may extend your hypothetical frightened father metaphor: the man is worried that he is biologically designed to be an irresponsible father, but he is mistaken to worry that he will find out that he is biologically designed to be irresponsible. What he wants is to be responsible, not to think that he is responsible, so the mere fact of whether or not he knows some specific fact is not going to affect that.
Whatever the truth is, the hypothetical frightened father—and the very real frightened theists, such as yourself—already are living under whatever conditions actually hold. If the father is a responsible one, he already wins, whatever his biological predisposition was. If a theist is a good person, that theist already is a good person, whether God is real or not.
That is the first of two essential points. The second is this: if you would rather be good than not, then you are already on the right path, even if you can’t see where you are going. Others have walked this way before, and escaped into clear air.
The relevant question is whether the good person would remain good after they discover God is not real. My hunch is that most people who are good would stay that way.
But I like this point:
And I will take it with me.
It’s better than a hunch—it’s backed up experimentally.
I think it actually comes down to the same logical idea of The Bottom Line, the modus tollens: if the bottom line is formed through good processes, then it often remains strong even when the text above it is created through other means. You (or, I suppose, I) could write an essay on all the cases where it is what was written above the bottom line that was garbage.
I heard that here, ascribed to Eugene Gendlin. It is a valuable insight, I think.
Well, I’m kind of … done.
It occurred to me that nothing I actually revere could object to me responding to the evidence of my eyes and mind. I can’t help doing that. It can’t possibly be blameworthy.
I don’t feel that I’m losing anything right now. What I always took seriously was a sense of justice or truth. Not just mine, you understand, and maybe not a bunch of platonic forms out in the Eagle Nebula either, but something worth taking seriously. A little white light. That’s what I was afraid would go away. But I don’t think it will, now, and all the rest is just window dressing. Maybe I can even pay better attention to it without the window dressing.
I couldn’t believe I’d ever be happy like this, and maybe I’ll see my error soon enough… for so long this was something I promised myself I’d never do, a failure of will. But right now this seems … better. Actually better. Less phony. Truer to what I actually did revere all along.
*hugs*
Would you say that you were expending a lot of effort trying to believe things when it didn’t feel natural to believe them, and now you feel happy because that burden is lifted? Are there any other (what are the reasons) for the happiness?
Yes! It’s that. It’s also that I’m starting to think it’s not so terrible; that I’m not a traitor to anything worth my loyalty.
Also. For a long, long time I felt that God had given up on me… that any deity would have long ago decided I was no good and put me in the reject file. God’s love was an unknown, but it seemed very, very unlikely. A more cheerful thought—but not, I think, a false one—is that there is no distance between Justice and the Judge. If I do right, there’s no additional question, “But is it good enough for God?” I’ve done right. If I learn from my mistakes and make restitution, there’s no additional “But will God forgive me?” If I’ve paid my debts, then I’ve paid my debts.
All I have to do is do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with reality. Suddenly this seems feasible as it never did before.
Just curious, based on your phrasing I would guess that you’re Jewish, and possibly orthodox (there is some precedent for that here). I pushed the big unsubscribe button in the sky two month ago myself and have gone through some of the same emotions.
Jewish, yes, orthodox, no (and always wondered about the consistency of that; if you’re already choosing not to be strictly observant, what can you then conclude?)
yeah...I should know well enough by now that there are lots of atheists floating around, but it’s nice to have extra data points, especially if they’re friendly!
I know this is an old comment, but… Having gone through a similar process, I just want to give you a big warm hug.
Followed your recent post here and thought I’d add my support as well. I went through something very similar last Christmas (some of that story HERE) and it’s more or less ongoing. I really love how you’ve put things, especially these:
(MrHen)
(RobinZ)
I guess it’s backed up, for example, by Europe as a poll in 2005 found that “18% do not believe there is any sort of spirit, god or life force.” And life in Europe is ticking along fine.
Well, my issue is that people act based on their beliefs. A father will do things for his children because he thinks he can, and thinks he should. If he reads an article in Psychology Today and doesn’t see the point any more, because baboon fathers don’t raise children, well, then, his behavior is likely to change.
The worst case scenario is believing incorrectly that it’s okay to do wrong. Believing incorrectly that it’s wrong to do something okay is not as bad; you’re mistaken, but you’re not destructive. The loss-averse strategy is to be very suspicious of claims that tell you “Relax, don’t worry, it’s all right to do X.”
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. The solution to this dilemma is to learn more. It really isn’t so bad on the other side if you just keep walking and don’t look down.
I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t seriously open to changing my mind. I’ll give it some thought.
That’s why a lot of atheist organisations exist that promote ideas like “you can be good without God”. If people can get over the belief that morality flows only from God, there aren’t so many worries about people acting worse for not being religious.
It’s kindof silly really. Socrates did a reductio on Divine Command Theory in the Euthyphro, and the Catholic Church has rejected it for related reasons for a long time now.
It may help to consider the question what would you do without morality? (also see the follow up: The Moral Void).
Seriously, if there were no morality, I would still have tastes, and they would still involve being fairly nice to people, but I’d generally put myself first and not worry about it. I’d sometimes be a freeloader or slacker, but not to such extremes that I could see how my actions hurt other people. I’d generally be a productive, sympathetic person, but not terribly heroic or altruistic. I would … not be much different from the way I am now. But without the guilt. Without the sense that that can’t possibly be enough.
For some of us, ‘ethics’ (here read as equivalent to ‘morality’) is an answer to the question “What should I do (or want)?”, which is equivalent to “What do I have most reason to do (or want)?”. If you care about the answers to questions like “Should I order a hamburger or a hot dog?” and “Should I drink this bottle of drain cleaner?” and “Should I put myself first?” then you care about ethics.
If I offer you a bottle of drain cleaner to drink and you refuse it, and I ask you, “What reason did you have for refusing it?” and you give me any answer, then you’re not an ethical nihilist; you think there is something to ethical questions.
Of course, some would not cast such a broad net in their definition of ‘ethics’, but I don’t tend to find such theories of ethics very useful.
I believe that for the most part, people make their religions in their own image.