Reopening this blog

All right, I have decided to resurrect the Itinerarium Mentis blog. Although I will still be contributing articles to the Aristophrenium as my primary commitment, I have chosen to reopen this blog for material that is geared more toward personal introspection and informal engagements and whatever else I feel is not exactly suited for the design and purpose of the Aristophrenium. I also reserve the right to modify or expand upon something that I have written here and cross-post it over there.

That is all.

(NB: I have also got to do something with that ‘categories’ list. What a mess. I’ll revamp that later.)

New Home

CLOSED

I have suspended activity on this blog for the time being. I have invested in a domain and created a web site to publish not only my own writing but that of others too, as a growing collaborative enterprise of authors with a range of view points exploring and examining ideas and topics related to philosophy, religion, and science. I am publishing from the perspective of Christian theism, of course, while another gentleman, Håvard Skjæveland, is publishing from the position of agnostic atheism. I am hoping that in time the site will be home to five or six intelligent and eloquent writers who all share the same interest in open-minded but critical thinking.

www.Aristophrenium.com

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Update (1 Feb 2010): Site no longer a collaborative blog between myself and Skjæveland. Site overhaul in design, purpose, and content. Now a team blog of Christian writers: Mathew Hamilton, Duane Proud, Adam Morgan, Luis Dizon, and myself.

Problem of Suffering: Doug's Rebuttal

A reader who I will call 'Doug' had a rebuttal to my Problem of Suffering critique:

Your argument seems to be that gratuitous suffering cannot exist because a God who is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent would not allow it. The problem is that the presence of gratuitous suffering is the test; we must establish that it does or doesn't exist without deferring to the conclusion we're trying to establish. We can't just hand-wave away suffering as 'not gratuitous' by simply assuming it must have some purpose if we are right that there is a God. It's an empty argument, and one instantly seen-through by anyone with a passing knowledge of the logical fallacies.

You seem to have misunderstood what my argument is. It is not simply that God "would not allow it." Rather, it is that gratuitous suffering stands in contradiction to a God whose attributes are omnipotence, omniscience, and omnibenevolence—in the same way that an 'immovable object' stands in contradiction to an 'irresistible force'. Either gratuitous suffering exists or God exists; it is logically impossible (by the very definition of the terms involved) for them to both exist. That's the sticking point. It's more than theologically untenable; it is logically impossible. This is why presupposing the existence gratuitous suffering commits the question-begging fallacy.

Pointless Belief

From the EthicalAtheist.com web page "Questions for God" [1]:

Why don't you show yourself? You supposedly made us and want us to believe in you, right? Why the big mystery? You're also omnipresent, right? Why don't you show yourself to all of us at once and have a personal discussion with us? You can pick the date and time, we'll all stop what we are doing, I'm sure.

Why doesn't God dance when you want him to, and to the tune of your choosing? Why doesn't God put on some righteous cosmic magic show to convince you that he exists? Allow me to submit what I think is a far more pertinent question: "What would be the point?"

Imagine for a moment that God does your bidding. Whatever it would take to convince you that he exists, let's assume for the sake of argument that he produced it. Presto, you affirm that indeed God exists.

Now what?

So you now believe he exists. Well that's fantastic but, if I may be so bold, "So what?" What does this profit you? Are you so ignorant and out of touch that you think God will love you and accept you just because you assent intellectually to his existence? Are you so presumptuous as to dismiss with a wave of the hand your tremendous debt of moral culpability and (even worse) God's righteousness and sovereignty? Is God supposed to be so overwhelmed with gratitude for your cognitive approbation that he will just ignore the holy demands of justice? It's great that you now believe he exists. But so what? Will you now obey his commands? Do you throw away your ethics and other philosophical commitments and subject yourself fully to the will of God and what he demands?

No.

Why doesn't he show himself? Why doesn't he put on a cosmic magic show to convince atheists he exists? Because it would be pointless. It profits him nothing. It profits the atheist nothing. The atheist's intellectual assent is barren and impotent. For Satan himself believes that God exists, and he will believe that all the way to hell. The problem is not in the atheist's head but in his heart. When it comes to a relationship with God, the atheist's problem is not an intellectual one, but a moral one—on several different fronts.

As Rabbi Harold Kushner so eloquently put the matter:

Paul, whose conversation with me ultimately flowered into this book [2], assured me that while he did not believe in religion, he believed in God. I asked him what he meant by that, and he told me that when he contemplates the beauty and intricacy of the world, he has to believe that God exists. That’s very nice, I told him, and I’m sure God appreciates your vote of confidence. But for the religious mind and soul, the issue has never been the existence of God but the importance of God, the difference that God makes in the way we live. To believe that God exists the way that you believe the South Pole exists, though you have never seen either one, to believe in the reality of God the way you believe in the Pythagorean theorem as an accurate abstract statement that does not really affect your daily life, is not a religious stance. A God who exists but does not matter, who does not make a difference in the way you live, might as well not exist.

Britney (Bebo Norman)

(To listen, click here)

Britney, I'm sorry for the lies we told.
We took you into our arms, then left you cold.
Britney, I'm sorry for this cruel, cruel world.
We sell the beauty but destroy the girl.
Britney, I'm sorry for your broken heart.
We stood aside and watched you fall apart.
I'm sorry we told you fame would fill you up,
And money moves the man, so drink the cup.

I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
You never see it coming back.
I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
But I can see it coming back for you.
Yes, coming back for you.

Britney, I'm sorry for the stones we throw.
We tear you down just so we can watch the show.
Britney, I'm sorry for the words we say.
We point the finger as you fall from grace.

I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
You never see it coming back.
I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
But I can see it coming back for you.

Britney, I do believe that love has come.
Here for the broken, here for the ones like us

I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
You never see it coming back.
I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
But I can see it coming back for you.

It's coming back for you.

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The Story Behind the Song (in Bebo Norman's own words)
(taken from CCMagazine.com)

"Britney" is a song about what our culture says and does to young women these days. It's a collective apology for the struggle girls face growing up too fast in today's overly adult-oriented world. The song confesses, "I’m sorry for the lies we told / We took you into our arms, then left you cold / I'm sorry for this cruel, cruel world / We sell the beauty but destroy the girl." It's about the lies we tell them: about fame, and money, and what’s beautiful, and what will give them life. It's an apology for those lies. But more than that, it's an invitation to the truth about a God who is bigger than the pain this world so often leaves them in."

"I was up late. Couldn’t sleep, watching some news channel when yet another story about Britney Spears came on. My first instinct was to scoff and write it off. But then there was this freeze-frame shot of a look on her face of utter and absolute despair and confusion and brokenness—a look that I recognized. And I remember thinking, "This girl is a child of God." Suddenly I saw her story not as something to mock but as a real-life tragedy that is desperate for redemption and hope—a story not so different from any of our stories. Take away all the lights and cameras and it's really just a narrative of a girl so clearly in need of love, so clearly in need of the redeeming love of our God."

"And suddenly all I wanted to do was just apologize, over and over. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. On behalf of this fallen world. On behalf of our consumerism that so consistently devours what it wants and leaves the remnants in the wake of the search for the next fix. On behalf of believers, like myself, who mock and hurl stones rather than scribbling a message in the sand."

"I think that night I saw her through the eyes of Jesus for the first time. I imagined what Jesus would say to me in my darkest hour and realized that those are the words we should speak to this world, to this culture—and even to Britney Spears—in their darkest hour. "I'm sorry. Hope is here."