The Urban Myths of Popular Modern Atheism: How Christian Faith Can Be Intelligent

2018

Introduction

The Problem, the Usual Suspects and the Urban Myths

God – and the whole business of being dependent upon him – is being downgraded, downsized, downplayed, and most of all, just plain dismissed in the modern, cultured, educated parts of Europe and in academia. This process seems powered by a whole, growing series of interlocked urban myths about what is supposed to be involved in being a religious (and often specifically Christian) believer. These myths seem subscribed to in some form or another, even by many otherwise very sophisticated philosophers. But they seem common to pretty well all the known ‘new-atheists’ and, alas, by too many Christians (who then, quite unwittingly, give the atheists more of the ammunition they need).

Proper theological understanding is badly needed in order correctly to counteract this tendency. It is only in this way we may become warriors for Christ in the proper sense. The trouble is that much of the relevant material is, frankly, hard to read and academic in the extreme. Little or none of it ever feeds through to the wider intelligence. The so-called ‘New Atheists’ on the other hand do seem to be getting through, and they are using the urban myths about Christianity to help them do so. Something needs to be done to redress this imbalance. This book is a small attempt to get across to that wider intelligence a sensible, rational and defensible Christian theological story and show it to be a genuine alternative. Put bluntly, it is an attempt to show how faith can be intelligent.

Even to fairly well-educated folk who just haven’t thought too deeply about the issue, looking up to God for dependence seems at best, to be just quaint, old-fashioned and out-moded. It is also commonly seen as having been out-run by science. Besides, we are not much into looking up to anyone any more, except perhaps celebrities. Cap-doffing to authority figures is no longer our thing. In any case, it is simply not a good idea to be told what to do, especially by a god who is thought to resemble nothing much greater than a rather petulant nineteenth-century public school headmaster with a few added Harry Potterish magical powers thrown in. (How many people, I wonder, think of God as a kind of super-Dumbledore?) Moreover, we should think for ourselves and not be told what to think by an ancient document full of nothing but dust and (sometimes, apparently, terrifyingly vicious) nonsense. Then we would be really freed-up for sensible, civilised conversation. We would also become more ‘scientific’ (whatever quite that means) and less disposed to believe such weird things as, for example, that touching with faith the clothes of an Iron-Age prophet will cure us of any lingering haemorrhages.

That’s at best. At worst, confessing dependency on God is considered downright dangerous and even inhuman. Isn’t that just the sort of thing that suicide bombers and other assorted maniacs do? And many of the rest on the list seem only a tad less cool – those who would put down women, kick homosexuals into the gutter, and condemn to eternal hell those who ‘err and stray’ in each other’s bedrooms. Aren’t such folk more than mere party-poopers and killjoys? These thoughts are behind the late Christopher Hitchens’ remark that Christianity is like ‘a celestial dictatorship, a kind of divine North Korea’.

Not that we in the ‘good old’ Church of England folk are quite counted in this list of dishonour, of course – at least not any more. But that is only because we have long since had our teeth pulled and even stopped behaving any more like emasculated bulldogs. Moreover, Anglican clerical power over people’s lives has diminished since the Enlightenment – now almost to zero. (And that takes in most church folk too.) People no longer have to be worried about ‘what the vicar might think’. (Quite the reverse is now true.) But, we ask: isn’t this to be welcomed? Only a pathetic few are terribly impressed any more by the dark-eyed, black-robed authority of the cleric (or, perhaps, the blue-scarfed Lay Reader). We do, of course, still send bishops to the House of Lords, something often seen as some kind of threat to the soundness of our national policies. However, by and large, we Church of England folk are seen, as often as not, merely as relics of a long distant past. We are simply an increasingly elderly, growingly confused and, frankly, rather quaint collection of individuals who just fail to ‘get’ the real picture. (Sometimes I can even manage to look the part, I’m sure.) We are but a pale reflection of our former selves. We are blue-rinsed, stiff-collared wrinklies who get bemused by trendy team vicars called ‘Dave’ and become nervous and giggly when offered so much as a small sherry wine at a vicarage garden party. We then process into church and bow our heads in solemn silence in the now well and truly antiquated, and hardly believable, Miss Marple-like institution of Choral Evensong. We are merely picturesque and our places of worship good background for wedding photographs. We should be put out to grass if not exactly rendered down for glue. Besides, as any decent atheist will tell you, it’s just not nice to kill off granny and granddad. But neither does it much matter, for we’ll soon all be dead anyway and the Church of England long gone. Patience in this matter is, after all, no more than mere Anglo-Saxon decency.

In the meantime, though, real people get real. God is not cool. God is not scientific. God is not great. God is not rational. God is a now long redundant hypothesis. God is, frankly, just not needed, never mind someone to be looked up to. God is well and truly ‘off-side’ when it comes to scoring any real goals. To back up all this comes that huge raft of urban myths concerning what we Christians are supposed to believe. These urban myths of popular atheism are the subject of the present book.

For the moment, though, I simply point out that looking up to God has nothing to do with this nonsensical, if popular, picture. In this book, I hope to show that looking up to God, far from being dangerous, or just rather silly, is the most rational of acts in which we humans can ever engage. In the process, I hope to debunk the urban myths of today’s popular atheism (and even those of some popular Christianity). Urban myths are popular tales – something akin to Dawkins’ famous ‘memes’. They grow and get transmitted increasingly widely until they become deeply held assumptions despite their lack of any real historical, philosophical, theological or even scientific credentials. They survive because their presuppositions go almost unchallenged. I feel that even a good many Christian thinkers rather take these presuppositions for granted. This leads them to make the mistake of responding to them at the wrong level. It also leads to our competing on the atheist’s own playing field. This is a tragedy, for the myths are hardly obviously true. For example, as Rowan Williams has pointed out, if Richard Dawkins could sit down and chat with St Augustine of Hippo (from the fifth century) Dawkins may well be surprised. He would find Augustine not opposed to the idea of evolution for starters – all I may add without any hint of its causing discomfort to his understanding of Christian doctrine. Altogether, Dawkins would find that his own doctrines would hardly just get the better of those of Christianity.

My wish, then, is to be bold and attack these urban myths where it most hurts – at their very foundations. Ironically, some of them even have their origins in bad theology. My aim is to expose their inadequacies and replace them with that which is far more philosophically and theologically sound. If what follows shocks as many Christians as it does atheists, I do not apologise.

Yet what I put in the place of the dispossessed myths is no vain invention of my own fancy. I am not, frankly, that original. Those who are familiar with the relevant literature will readily identify that my replacement ideas belong well and truly within the long and, I firmly believe, much sounder tradition of historical teaching in the Christian world. It is not all easy and some of it grates with our modern sensibilities. Hence, the book inevitably contains some rather difficult philosophical and theological thinking here and there. However, it is intended for a wider readership, so it is not laden with all the usual paraphernalia of heavy-duty scholarship. I restrict myself to just a few citations and references. I simply want the text to flow unimpeded. It is more a work of reflection than academy-strength scholarship in any case.

I don’t, though, wish you to proceed under false pretences. I in no way want this book to be an exercise in dumbing down. I firmly believe that doing that helps no one. If you take yourself to require ‘Theology for Idiots’ or ask that the sometimes brain-hurtingly difficult be ‘Made Easy’, look elsewhere for I shall not oblige. My hope is that both my philosophical and theological thinking is at least decent and uncompromised. That, I am afraid, simply has implications for universal accessibility. I may add at this point that the reader may sense a measure of anger every now and again in my tone. This is also quite deliberate. I believe that such anger is justified, for I direct myself quite unashamedly to errors that should simply not be countenanced. They stand in almost screaming need of denunciation and correction.

With that off my chest, I must add that I don’t believe in ‘slagging off’ the opposition in point-scoring, mud flinging exhibitionism either. Atheists are, I believe, wrong – flat wrong – but I do not think that you need to be a blind idiot to be one. Both atheism and Christianity arise from the employment of our human intelligence in response to a deeply puzzling world. I intend to seek out and destroy the atheist’s urban myths and do so without mercy but I would always welcome their questions and doubts. I would not want any atheist to live on without appreciating why we Christians think they may be in danger. Yet, yet, if there were only one atheist left in the world to convince, something decent in me would not want me to do the job (even if I could do the job in any case). This is because I value challenge and I think that Christianity can thrive on it. I am sure that God would understand. (Christopher Hitchens once said the same with respect to believers in God.)

Rather immodestly also, I want what I write to be a small inspiration to my fellow Christians as much as a thought-revising invitation to the sceptic. A fat inspiration it would be if it made no proper sense. And it cannot make proper sense without some pretty serious theology. All this means that whatever is difficult and mind-bending, remains so. Relatedly, I hope also to show – just a little – that the Christian faith has, throughout its long history, been an intellectually smart tradition. An idiot may indeed make a lovely Christian. Christ does not exclude those without brains, but he does not exclude those with brains either. So, if you can think hard, don’t be down-hearted about your faith. Besides, if the church were ever to forget the importance of the intellect, it will commit suicide.

On this matter, I have encountered in my ministry as a Lay Reader a rather unfortunate attitude on the part of some fellow Christians. Many of these folk are themselves suspicious of sophisticated theology. ‘Simple faith, Paul, simple faith. That’s all one needs’. I’ve had that, or something similar, said to me a number of times. Sometimes it is accompanied by a vaguely finger-wagging aggravation following a sermon. I can take that. But more worryingly, it seems often motivated by fear, fear that stirring up the mud below may cause the superstructure of simple faith above to come crashing down. Too many Christian folk become reluctant to explore further their own faith and confront difficult questions because of this fear.

Well! I have no problem with simple faith. Many of the greatest brains in the history of the church have displayed simple faith. But simple faith does not stand alone – nor should it be allowed so to do, certainly not if we are to avoid being intellectually devoured by the atheist. But in fact, simple faith historically has always assumed the armour of argument and intellect. In any case, it is from simple faith that the harder questions flow – and they flow from it with all the grace of a gentle breeze that flows in from the evening sea. So I would say to my fellow Christian, ‘Fear not. If it fits, don the armour simple faith has been given and engage, for it is in failure to engage that we become our own worst enemy’. This is not, of course, to deny the obvious fact that what this book contains will not be the cup of tea for many decent and faithful members of the church, many of whom will have given a lifetime of devoted service. We all have our different callings and they are all valuable one way or another. I ask only that the calling implicit in the present book be regarded as one of them.

A word now about a subsidiary prey of mine. It is sometimes thought that we Christians have to be against science in order to sustain our position. I hope in some measure to show that this is not the case. What we have to be against is Philosophical Naturalism (PN). This is the purely philosophical doctrine that all that exists is the natural world construed as a fully autonomous, closed system.

Many, though by no means all, scientists seem to embrace PN, sometimes without much obvious thought going into the matter. Insofar as this happens, they lend authority to it. However, we need always to keep in mind that doing science is one thing and embracing PN quite another. I return to this matter later in the book.

It is, of course, always easy to misrepresent one’s opponent’s position, to make it seem simpler than it really is. This has two psychological motives. The first is that one just wants to put one’s opponent in as bad a light as possible, to present him as the villain of the piece. The second is that it makes the work of criticism considerably easier. I have tried to avoid this sin of misrepresentation, of erecting then tearing down mere ‘straw men’ – but I am only human.

Another word of caution: I do not always attribute any particular urban myth to any particular ‘new atheist’. In truth, the ‘new atheists’ sometimes speak (and write) more crudely and, sometimes, they reveal more carefully nuanced views. (Though we can all do this, of course.) Often a context demands that we ‘keep it short’ when, deep down, we recognise the need for ever deeper and ever more subtle qualifications. Thus, I have heard Richard Dawkins say that, though in all practical ways he can be counted as an atheist, he is strictly an agnostic. Why? Because he feels that all he is strictly entitled to do is place the existence of God way, way down on the list of probabilities (given the evidence he thinks we have) but not exclude the possibility altogether. Very well, I am happy to take him as ‘strictly’ agnostic. The choice of labels makes little difference to the pattern of his arguments and presuppositions in any case.

This, however, doesn’t matter very much for my present purposes. This book is not specifically about this or that particular atheist’s (or agnostic’s) particular arguments, nuanced or otherwise. You will find that task done in many other books. Primarily, this book is about the urban myths themselves, as they seem to me to have percolated down into our popular atheistic secular culture. I do back up many of them with quotes from famous atheists but it is the urban myths themselves that are important. They represent the sort of thing any thoughtful agnostic or atheist might say in response to Christianity. I have personally encountered each of them in my many discussions on religion. If these myths are the products of a fevered imagination, it is not my own. In other words – and again – I certainly do not think that I am attacking any mere ‘straw men’.

What is really needed to fight these crazy myths is a better theological understanding. My real enemy in any case is not the people, not honest enquiry, not honest intellectual struggle, not honest agnosticism or even honest atheism (though I hope that I give some reasons for questioning those last two things) but downright, unacceptable historical, philosophical and theological muddle and myth loudly and proudly parading itself as intellectual clarity and progress. This, frankly, I cannot stand.

I feel therefore that addressing such myths is a hugely important task. For the want of addressing this task, the downgrading, downsizing and downplaying of both a reasonable and saving Christianity could well be hastened. Since I believe that Christianity tells us the truest and greatest story about the world that has ever been told, I quite naturally want to do all I can, however small, to impede the progress of its downfall.

Belief & Denial

Urban Myth No 1

Atheism is a mere denial. It’s up to believers alone to argue for their view.

Our belief is not a belief. Our principles are not a faith.

(Christopher Hitchens, God Is Not Great)

In fact, ‘atheism’ is a term that should not even exist. No one ever needs to identify himself as a ‘non-astrologer’ or a ‘non-alchemist’. We do not have words for people who doubt that Elvis is still alive or that aliens have traversed the galaxy only to molest ranchers and their cattle. Atheism is nothing more than the noises reasonable people make in the presence of unjustified religious beliefs. (Sam Harris, Letter to a Christian Nation)

I begin with a fundamental issue. Who has the burden of demonstration – Christian or atheist? The idea here is that it is Christianity that is saying that something (God) exists. More still, Christianity takes upon itself the status as a total perspective. It is, in this sense, like Marxism or Buddhism. It is not just a mere collection of associated beliefs, it provides its adherents with a total view of things. Nothing escapes its gaze. No part of our lives is irrelevant to it. It provides us with a way of looking at all things. It is, in short, a worldview. Moreover, the key to this worldview is Christianity’s central figure – Christ, the God-Man. All this constitutes a huge positive claim and as such, I quite agree, it stands in need of being argued for. Such a monumental system of belief needs to be substantiated with as much evidence and rational argument as possible. It should never just be blindly accepted on the basis of nothing more solid than self-interested authority.

Atheism, on the other hand, is held to be no more than mere denial. Atheists claim that they neither put forward an alternative positive thesis nor posit the existence of some alternative to God. (A classic delusion, as we shall see.) Atheism, they will say, makes no positive claims about the existence of anything. Atheism is thus not a belief in its own right but merely the lack of a belief. Atheism merely says, ‘I am not convinced by your claim’. On this view, atheism is just a psychological state – one of simply being unconvinced. Such an atheist will say, ‘Rationality demands that you convince me. Hence, it is up to you to demonstrate your case beyond reasonable doubt’. This is convenient for the atheist because it means that the atheist is freed from hard work. They need do no more thinking than the person who denies the existence of either the tooth fairy or Santa Claus. Understand, I am not accusing all atheists of being, in fact, unwilling to engage intellectually. Clearly that would not be true. I say only that things are very often seen as requiring all the convincing to come from the believing side alone. The principle is this: it is for those who assert the existence of something to support their case, never the position of doubt or even denial.

In support of their position, the atheist will sometimes draw upon the assertion that one can never prove a negative, so it’s irrational to ask for a demonstration that there is no God. This will clearly not do. There are whole classes of negative