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This week Melbourne hosts the Global Atheist Convention. Several thousand gratefully god-less souls of various flavours will squeeze into a very large auditorium (it’s sold out) for one great big shout-out for non-belief.

Some of the more acclaimed champions of ‘free thinking’ will be there—Richard Dawkins, Peter Singer, A.C. Grayling, Dan Barker, along with a line up of comedians on hand to cheerfully heap scorn on the faithfully deluded.

The program has a festive feel, and indicates the celebratory nature of a gathering of those who, despite the souvenir T-shirts, caps, mugs, fridge magnets and bumper stickers, claim their only common ground is what they don’t have—belief.

At CPX we have spent considerable time and energy engaging with the latest and most evangelistic of the prophets of atheist piety. I’m not sorry we have. There are important arguments against religion that are being made loudly and trenchantly and these are worth testing and challenging. We have gathered the relevant material here if you’d like to take a look.

But I was struck today by an article by the brother of Christopher Hitchens, that most caustic of opponents of religion (notably absent from the convention). Just like his brother, Peter Hitchens is a talented writer. But, no doubt alarmingly for the older sibling, Peter is a Christian.

Given their pugnacious childhood it is not altogether surprising that they would adopt positions at polar ends of a spectrum. For many years in his youth, Peter was also counted among those who had rejected God and the church, but he slowly came back to faith in his 30s. This made an already difficult relationship with his brother nigh impossible. For many years they didn’t speak.

The article speaks of a kind of healing in the relationship around the time of a public debate between the two brothers on the existence of God and the goodness of religion in 2008. On that night, as he did in the article from the Daily Mail, the younger brother challenged the arguments made in God is Not Great – How Religion Poisons Everything, systematically drawing attention to what he saw as logical flaws, inconsistencies and blind spots.

But as Peter Hitchens makes clear, it is not really arguments that will win the day or change the heart of a person so sure of a godless universe and the singularly negative impact of religion. It’s not that a belief in God doesn’t have to be based on rational foundations. As Flannery O’Connor writes, “A faith that just accepts is a child’s faith … eventually you have to grow religiously as every other way”. If a belief system is true it shouldn’t be threatened in the face of attack.

But ultimately shrill and often ugly arguments for and against the existence of God mask something deeper and more personal.

‘Those who choose to argue in prose, even if it is very good prose, are unlikely to be receptive to a case which is most effectively couched in poetry,’ Peter Hitchens writes.

In other words, something beyond a debate is required; a force that penetrates the heart and transcends the merely rational. It’s scales falling from eyes and hearts being touched in fresh and surprising ways. Mystery. That’s what I think of when I contemplate those gathering in Melbourne this weekend, their different motivations, and personal stories of disillusionment with faith, steeling themselves for a life without God.

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C P X | Thursday, March 11, 2010 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0) | Permalink
Finally, there is an awkward question that atheist critics of the track-record of Christianity ought to face. It has to do with atheism’s intellectual capacity to restrain hatred and inspire love.

Christians and atheists alike are capable of both love and hate. Agreed. But when Christians love, they do so in full accordance with their worldview which begins with the love of God and the inherent value of His much beloved creatures. When Christians hate, they do so in logical defiance of that worldview. Here is the question, though.

What is there in the atheist’s perspective that can rationally inspire love and rationally discourage hate? I know that most atheists (in the Christianized West) choose love over hate. But if human beings are accidents in an unknowing universe, how can the decision to love or hate be anything more than a preference, a product of ‘feelings’ as atheist Bertrand Russell once famously acknowledged? On what grounds can the atheist speak rationally of the high and equal value of the poor or the weak or the asylum seeker?

Put another way, while it is obvious that only one way of life is logically compatible with Christianity (the way of love), any kind of life is logically compatible with atheism.

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C P X | Wednesday, March 10, 2010 | Comments (1) | Trackbacks (0) | Permalink
Today is International women’s day. That’s where millions of people unite to celebrate the role of Christianity in helping females to flourish across the centuries, right? Not quite. The reality is that these days many people associate the church with the repression and subjugation of women. If PR departments exist within the walls of Church administration buildings they have some way to go in overcoming a general sense that the female cause has prospered despite the Christian faith and not because of it. At various times and places that reputation has been deserved.

But it’s worth going back to the beginning of the story to get to the heart of what Christianity should mean for women (and men). Jesus was the only rabbi of his day that we know of who had women disciples. He had women supporters and women who travelled with him. The Gospels record women as the ones who stayed close to Jesus as he endured crucifixion and as the first witnesses to the resurrection. It is difficult to overstate the significance of all this in a world where females were regarded as property with limited legal rights.

The dawning of the Christian age meant a radical shift in the way women were perceived. Sociologist Rodney Stark, who looks at a range of factors to account for the incredible growth in Christianity in the two centuries after Christ, believes its popularity among women was vital. Christianity’s view of the full equality of men and women before God was revolutionary and the implications profound.

For women, the new religion provided opportunities for them to play significant roles in the church that were especially taken up by those from the upper classes. The earliest church building yet found (Megiddo early 3rd Century) honours no fewer than six women on the mosaic floor, but only two men! No wonder so many critics from antiquity heaped scorn on Christianity for the way it drew in so many women (and slaves).

In Christian communities girls married later and enjoyed a better quality and longer life than their pagan counterparts. Largely this was due to the high rates of abortion in the Roman world—a decision made by the men.

Sexual chastity was extended to males as well as females under Christian teaching, another major shift, meaning family life was generally more secure. Infanticide was practiced widely on girls in the Greco-Roman world, and Christianity ruled this out. For these and other reasons, the early centuries of Christianity mark a great leap forward for females.

On International Woman’s day, as we consider the plight of millions of women and girls around the globe who still suffer indignities, deprivations, and the worst kinds of oppression because of their gender, it is worth recalling the Christian conception of what it is to be human, and urging all, whether believers or non-believers, to continue to be a part of the struggle to see that vision fully realised.

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Vaughan Olliffe | Monday, March 08, 2010 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0) | Permalink
At best, the criticisms of Hitchens and others that Christianity has done great evil through history prove only that Christians have not been Christian enough (sincere believers confess that daily). For anyone can tell you that when Christians are violent and imperialistic they are not obeying their Messiah but defying him who said “love your enemy and do good to those who hate you.” The solution to religious violence, then, is not less Christianity but more. Yale philosopher-theologian Professor Miroslav Volf says it brilliantly:
When it comes to Christianity the cure against religiously induced and legitimized violence is almost exactly the opposite of what an important intellectual current in the West since the Enlightenment has been suggesting. The cure is not less religion, but, in a carefully qualified sense, more religion … The more the Christian faith matters to its adherents as faith and the more they practice it as an ongoing tradition with strong ties to its origins and with clear cognitive and moral content, the better off we will be.1
The same point was made years ago by Albert Einstein. Though a Jew (a deistic Jew) and aware of the many inconsistencies of the German church, he believed that what Germany needed in that crucial hour was not less Christianity but more. In his 1915 essay “My opinion of the war” he wrote in conclusion: “But why so many words when I can say it in one sentence, and in a sentence very appropriate for a Jew. Honour your master, Jesus Christ, not only in words and songs but, rather, foremost in your deeds.” The solution to violent Christianity is real Christianity.

1. Miroslav Volf, “Christianity and Violence,” Boardman Lectureship in Christian Ethics, 2002, 1.

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C P X | Wednesday, March 03, 2010 | Comments (4) | Trackbacks (0) | Permalink
My second problem with the complaint of Hitchens and others that Christianity has done more harm than good is that the violence of Christendom is dwarfed by that of non-religious causes. Just think of WWI (8 million deaths) or WWII (35 million deaths).
Then there is the very awkward fact that the 20th century’s three great atheistic regimes were hotbeds of unrestrained violence. Joseph Stalin’s openly atheistic project killed at least 20 million people, which is more people each week than the Spanish Inquisition killed in its entire 350 year history. Pol Pot, another avowed atheist, is known to have slaughtered 2 million people out of a population of 8 million. This is not to claim that atheists are more violent than Christians. It simply underlines that violence is a perennial human problem, not a specifically religious one.

And those who suggest that these communist regimes were quasi-religious in their zeal and, therefore, provide further evidence of the pernicious effect of religion have abandoned sincere investigation into the problem and have settled on crass anti-religious apologetics. Better to state the obvious: religion or irreligion can inspire hate.

The claim that religion has started ‘most of the wars’ of history ought to cause embarrassment to thinking people. And yet it remains, as David Bentley Hart points out, “the sort of remark that sets many heads sagely nodding in recognition of what seems an undeniable truth. Such sentiments have become so much a part of the conventional grammar of “enlightened” scepticism that they are scarcely ever subjected to serious scrutiny.”1

1. David Bentley Hart, Atheist Delusions: the Christian Revolution and its Fashionable Enemies. Yale University Press, 2009, 5.

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C P X | Thursday, February 25, 2010 | Comments (3) | Trackbacks (0) | Permalink
Speaking of violence, this weekend saw the arrival of Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) to Australia. I didn’t go, but by all reports it was a brutal affair. Contestants battle it out in an octagon cage with more rules than the sport once had, but not enough to avoid the feel of a barely restrained, vicious brawl.

Kicking, kneeing, and choke-holds are part of the show, as is fighters pouncing on opponents who have gone down, to bash them more. There is no shortage of the promised blood on the canvas.

Sydney Morning Herald journalist Peter Fitzsimons, himself a former international rugby player and no shrinking violet, could barely contain his distaste for the event. ‘… it looks like we might have moved into an age when tens of thousands of people no longer want cups of tea. They want buckets of blood,’ he wrote.

It does feel like a different era. I’ve always enjoyed watching the battles of fiercely contested sport. Even boxing, at its highest level, carries something of the noble pursuit in my mind. The folklore around Ali and Foreman’s ‘Rumble in the Jungle’ still gives me goose bumps.

But in its various permutations this cage fighting, looks more Colosseum than MCG. And the reaction of the people in the stands is what interests me the most. Curiosity might make it hard to turn away when we see a car crash, but what might we say about an impulse to revel in the carnage?

Perhaps I’m being alarmist and melodramatic. To suggest that the arrival of UFC is a harbinger of the West going to hell in a hand basket might be taking things too far. But I can’t help thinking of the great historian Arnold Toynbee and his description of the common characteristics of great civilisations on their last legs. Rarely are they overrun, according to Toynbee, but rather they commit a kind of cultural suicide. Falling to a sense of abandon and lawlessness, once great peoples become adrift, unable to anchor themselves in any universal ground of justice, truth or reason.

One of a number of characteristics Toynbee identifies is escapism and retreat into distraction and entertainment. Presumably that becomes more extreme the further down that path you progress. He talks about an indiscriminate acceptance of anything and everything - "an act of self-surrender to the melting pot ... in Religion and Literature and Language and Art as well as ... Manners and Customs."

As I watched footage of jubilant fans leaving the arena sated from the experience of socially acceptable lavish violence, I couldn’t help thinking of a culture pushing further into a void; of something rotten in its spirit. An implosion.

Or am I missing something?

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C P X | Tuesday, February 23, 2010 | Comments (3) | Trackbacks (0) | Permalink
In my previous two posts I outlined why I think the charge against the Christian church of failing to live up to its calling is both serious and largely true. But it’s equally true that the popular imagination of the evils of Christian history is frequently exaggerated, to the point of being seriously misleading.
Let me offer two examples of this exaggerated retellings of the past. The Spanish Inquisition is often thought to be Christianity at its most bloodthirsty with hundreds of thousands of heretics killed (trawl the Internet and you will even find estimates of a million or more). However, in its 350 year history, the Spanish Inquisition probably killed around 6000 people1. That comes out at 18 deaths a year. Of course, one a year—one ever—is too much but the figure hardly sustains the monstrous narratives we often hear.

Or take the iconic Northern Ireland conflict. It is widely known that the thirty-year ‘troubles’ led to the deaths of fewer than 4000 people. Again, one death ‘in the name of Christ’ is a blasphemy, but how did the Northern Ireland conflict ever come to symbolize the ferocity of the church?

Compare it with the thoroughly ‘secular’ French Revolution. As many people were executed in the name of ‘liberty, equality and fraternity’ in a single year of the Revolution (the ‘Terror’ of September 1793 – July 1794) as were killed in the entire three decades of the ‘troubles’2.

1. This comes on the authority of Edward Peters, Professor of Medieval History at the University of Pennsylvania and a leading authority on the topic. See his Inquisition. University of California Press, 1989.

2. See William Doyle, The French Revolution: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press, 2001.


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C P X | Wednesday, February 17, 2010 | Comments (2) | Trackbacks (0) | Permalink
Cormack McCarthy’s book The Road came out in 2006, gaining the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in the following year. It has gained renewed interest with the release of the Film starring Viggo Mortensen (from the Lord of the Rings) and Charlize Theron.

The story takes place in post apocalyptic America. A father and his 11 year-old son walk the road just trying to survive. All around them is chaos and anarchy. Bandits roam the countryside looking for food. It’s a dark and violent time.
Neither the book nor the film are for the faint-hearted. The story is deeply disturbing; shocking in parts. But McCarthy brings a profound and compelling honesty to this important subject. There is honesty about the human heart. Honesty about our good bits and the parts we’d rather keep hidden. Honesty about the depths we sometimes sink to, as well as the heights to which we may soar.

Ultimately there is a nagging question of whether even our best has any meaning if there is no God in which to situate and root our individual and collective stories.

Perhaps surprisingly, it offers a positive vision made all the more conspicuous by the backdrop of horror in which it is placed.

Read my article on the book here or listen to a podcast discussion I had with Greg Clarke.

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C P X | Monday, February 15, 2010 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0) | Permalink
I’ve had the last quarter of Marilynne Robinson’s 2004 novel, Gilead, waiting patiently for me on the bedside table for a year or so, hoping to be granted the honour of completion (I often struggle with the reading endgame). Now, transported away from the bedside table on holidays, I’ve at last reached the end of this exquisitely poised depiction of a dying preacher recording a memoir for his young son.

The book is replete with theological and anthropological gems, the fruit of the author’s deep knowledge of the Bible, of ministry life, and of the significance of the shape of our close relationships on our sense of life’s meaning. The American Reverend John Ames faces his own covetousness, anxiety and limitations, as well as his joys and his enduring (but admirably honest and non-triumphalistic) Christian faith as he pens his memoirs in the still of each Iowa night.


He worries that his sermons have made little impact and told only half-truths; he feels an awkward disconnect between the things that matter to him (friendships, the sunrise, the excitement of romantic love) and the things he does week by week. And yet, he is at heart a Christian who is on the side of love over justice, Gospel over Law, grace over all.

This is a novel for Bible students, clergy and trainee ministers to read and ponder—which is where I must express my surprise. Gilead won the 2005 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. It was heralded as a masterpiece by reviewers everywhere. And yet, without a decent knowledge of the issues involved in Calvin’s theology, let alone the modern variations of Karl Barth, Ludwig Feuerbach and others, the story makes only superficial sense.

Did all the reviewers have theology degrees or Calvins’ Institutes on their shelves? I doubt it. So why was it praised far and wide? From the comments made by the reviewers, I suspect they detected in the slow-pulsed, contemplative, spiritual reflections of Reverend Ames something approaching real soul-searching. In its quietness, in its honest self-examination, this novel deals with something that really matters: your beliefs.

Although the details of the Reverend’s discussions over predestination or prevenient grace may not have carried meaning for every reader, the deep realities behind these doctrines—things like whether we are held responsible for our thoughts and deeds, or whether love for another overrules tradition, or whether a remorseful person who has committed great wrongs can in fact be more acceptable to God than a ‘Good Son’—connect deeply with us all. No theology degree required.

What this may mean is that the questions to which Christian faith provides answers are already in the minds and hearts of many a reader. They need the time and mental space that a novel such as Gilead affords in order to come to the surface and into full view. Beliefs this important deserve nothing less.

Greg Clarke

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C P X | Thursday, January 07, 2010 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0) | Permalink
Column 8 of the Sydney Morning Herald last week had an interesting entry from a man identifying only as a ‘Canberra Anglican parish priest’. In the lead up to Christmas he had organised some community carols in his local shopping centre, but met some resistance. ‘To my great amusement,’ he wrote, ‘the manager of the centre objected, because she thinks the “[expletive] Christians want to take over Christmas.” I'd always assumed that the “Christ” bit in both words might serve as a clue.'

It does appear that some people object to the traditional Christmas story being part of public life—shopping centre managers apparently, the odd journo, eagerly ‘pc’ local government officials and some vitriolic bloggers. But research out this week in a CPX-commissioned survey found that 91% of Australians are supportive of religious songs being sung in public at Christmas time. Other stats surprisingly challenge perceptions we might otherwise hold about the Australian religious psyche. 63% of those surveyed say that, contra Christopher Hitchens, the country would be worse off without Christianity. Australians regard the story of Jesus as more or less accurate. They tend to think highly of Jesus even if they never darken a church door.


But while most people might not feel especially aggrieved by the Herald Angels, or Good King Wenceslas trudging through the snow, the survey was hardly great comfort to those considering a clerical career. 42% of Australians are sure they won’t be heading to church this Christmas, and of the 45% who report being undecided, I’m going to hazard a guess that when it comes to the crunch they might opt to return to the pleasure of a freshly unwrapped ipod, or to don the togs for a swim instead.


The survey supports the sense I got when I recently conducted a bunch of vox pop interviews at Bondi beach on what people felt about the meaning of Christmas. Plenty said it was important not to lose the traditions of Christmas, but they said it in a way that indicated only the vaguest associations of family customs and childhood memory, rather than personal connection. Not everyone may want to ban nativity scenes from public places, or bar the local church choir from the mall, but those who view Christmas as holding the deepest of spiritual and personal meanings have a long way to go in communicating that message to a culture that has largely forgotten the force of it.


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Simon Smart | Thursday, December 17, 2009 | Comments (1) | Trackbacks (0) | Permalink