The Nature of the Debate

Recently, one of my friends on Facebook shared a picture, showing a copy of the Bible, the Koran and Mr Tickle.  Next to each one respectively, it said ‘Proof that God exists’, ‘Proof that Allah exists’, and ‘Proof that Mr. Tickle exists’.  At the bottom, in large letters was the caption ‘Religious Logic’.

Even ignoring the obvious theological inaccuracy, I took issue with this, and commented on the picture saying “Replace the word ‘Religious’ with ‘Fundamentalist’ and I might agree.  Assuming or implying that fundamentalism and extremism are representative of religion as a whole, or that ‘religion’ is at all homogenous’ is helpful to no-one.”

However, this does indeed seem to be the primary tactic that evangelical atheists (not that the friend in question is one of these) are using.  Another (particularly objectionable) image I’ve seen online, and which I’ve seen quoted elsewhere reads ‘Science flies men to the moon.  Religion flies them into buildings’.  In this case ‘religion’ is equated with hyper-extremist Islam.  In this case not even ‘Fundamentalism flies them into buildings’ would be even slightly accurate.  One may as well say ‘Religion builds homeless shelters.  Science builds gas-chambers’. 

However, it is very important to remember that the opposite is also true, and something like the above may well be floating around the internet somewhere.  Many theists hear the word ‘atheist’ and instantly assume Dawkinsian ranting, ignorance and offensiveness.  I have no doubt that some people hear the word ‘Muslim’ and instantly think ‘Al-Quaeda’.

Increasingly everybody is being persuaded that there are ‘Them’ and there are ‘Us’, and all of Them are at the uttermost extreme end of the Them spectrum.  These are deeply harmful assumptions that make what should be an intelligent and earnest debate into a scornful and dismissive slanging match.

I have been spoiled somewhat by being fortunate enough to have been able to mix with pleasant, deeply intelligent people with a wide spectrum of well thought-out, sincerely held beliefs, and who were capable of discussing these beliefs with others who strongly disagreed with them in a spirit of amiable, intelligent debate.  At university, I mixed with Christians of various denominations, agnostics of every shade, atheists, Buddhists, pagans and occultists.  It was during these discussions that I fully came to grips with exactly what it is that I myself believe, and why.  My beliefs were proofed and tested.  Some were found wanting, and modified or discarded.  Others were refined, tempered and polished.  I hope that I provided the same service for the people that I was discussing with.

I left university expecting to be able to have the same level of discussion about things like religion that I enjoyed previously, and it was something of a shock to discover that not only are many people apparently incapable of holding such discussions, they do not seem to even want to.  They would prefer to pour scorn and vitriol on their opponents, and willingly generalise them as all being like the most extreme and unpleasant aspects of their chosen groups, and completely refuse to acknowledge that any of their beliefs could possibly require modification or re-thinking, on any level at all.

Unhappily, it is also often these extremes that are the most visible and shout the loudest, and which are the most unpleasant to any dissenters, discouraging the more moderate, tolerant people from becoming involved at all.

Thus, rather than each debate being a bridge over a wide chasm, leading to deeper understanding and a mutual respect of the positions held, and an appreciation of a different point of view, each one serves to widen the gap, hurt feelings and make the discussions I enjoyed at university ever less likely, and that saddens me deeply.

A Review and a Clarification

Karl Rutlidge, who interviewed me at the book launch, has posted a review of Three Men on his blog, here.

Over all it is a very positive review, for which I thank him profusely.  However, he does take issue with one chapter, which I would like to discuss, not in a spirit of refutation, argument or defensiveness, since I very much see his point, but in the hope of clarifying my intentions regarding the analogy used, and of my position on the issues raised.

I dithered slightly about responding on here to the point raised, since responding to negative reviews, or as with this case, the one negative aspect of an otherwise very positive review, is rarely of value to anyone concerned, but I thought that in this case it was worth clarifying my position, and I hope I will succeed.

To briefly summarise the chapter in question, which is entitled ‘Thoughts on Continual Grace’, the three pilgrims encounter a woman who is badly bruised and beaten.  They react with horror and indignation when she reveals that her husband has beaten her, and even more so when she reveals that she is planning on going back to him.  She explains that no matter how much he hurts her or rejects her, he needs her love, and she is willing to be hurt for his sake.  Having had a glimpse of grace, the three somewhat reluctantly continue on their journey.

Now, the intended meaning was that the woman represented God, with the husband representing us, you and me both.  No matter what we do to hurt or reject God, either deliberately or accidentally, His love for us remains undaunted and unfaded, and He will never give up on us, no matter how much it might hurt Him.

Karl has quite correctly pointed out an alternative interpretation that never occurred to me when writing the chapter, but having read his review, and having re-read the chapter, I can see what he means.  He has pointed out that a possible interpretation is that there is something inherently virtuous or valuable in a human being remaining in an obviously abusive relationship, and that it is even the Christian thing to do.  Having, thankfully, never been exposed to anything like an abusive relationship, it might be thought that I am trivialising the issue, or even that I’m casting aspersions on those who don’t ‘stick it out’.

Hopefully I don’t have to say that I do not expect, or would ever advocate, that someone remain in an abusive relationship, and it was this unspoken (and possibly incorrect) assumption that was the main thrust of my analogy.  Domestic abuse, both physical and psychological, is an extremely serious issue, and one that I would never deliberately dismiss or trivialise.  If this is how it comes across in that chapter, then I can only apologise.  This is something that nobody should ever be expected to suffer, and being so, it makes the willing love, patience and grace of God all the more wonderful and amazing.  He is doing, unasked, what I would never ask or expect any person to do, let alone God Himself, and doing even more than that, even to death upon the cross.

Launching Books

So, last night was the official launch for Three Men on a Pilgrimage, alongside Steve Smith's Nine Steps to Well-Being.  It was... an experience.

I turned up with my box of books, and was immediately intimidated by the set out tables, wine glasses, microphones and the two stools at the front.  A couple of people were setting out the refreshments, so I went over and introduced myself.  One turned to the other, who was in the kitchen, and called, "Hey, come and look at the writer!"  But I didn't panic.  Yet.

People turned up, and Ernesto and Steve arrived.  Steve and I have talked online before, but we'd never met in the flesh, so it was good to finally put a person to the photo and words.  Karl, the head of the Cornerstone Fund Raising committee was there as well, so I asked if he could tell me the kind of things he might ask me, so that I could come up with some coherent answers.  He wouldn't tell me.  Apparently it would be cheating.  And I still didn't panic.

More people arrived, including a number of my friends, whom I hadn’t expected to come, which was rather good, and eventually we got started.

The evening began with some piano music from an insanely talented young pianist.  I've spoken before on this blog about my total lack of musical talent, and my supreme admiration for those who have it.  In this case the admiration was very much deserved.

After the applause had died down, we went onto the reading.  Happily, someone else was doing the reading, and did it very well, although it was extremely strange to hear someone else reading my words.  Obviously I'm aware that people have bought the book and read the words, but somehow the fact that I was hearing someone else saying them really brought home the fact that people are reading what I've been writing.  It was nice to hear a few chuckles as well, so obviously the ‘comical’ part of ‘A Comical Progress’ is working nicely.

Once that was over, it was time for the interview/conversation.  I still didn't panic, but I'm not going to pretend it wasn't close!  Karl and I climbed into a pair of rather tall, bouncy stools, got ourselves comfortable, and then began.  It turns out that I’m a very poor interviewee (sorry Karl!).  I was rather nervous, which didn’t help, but I was trying to make sure I didn’t just answer in monosyllables.  Even so, my answers weren’t as detailed or expansive as they could have been.  In fact, even as I was sitting down again afterwards, I was thinking ‘Oh blast, I could have said that!’, or ‘Bother, I could have talked about that, which would have led onto this!’  I am a grand master of carriage wit, and even once I’d got home I was thinking of better, fuller answers I could have given.  In part it was because I didn't want to give too much away about the specific events of the book, especially the ending, but I think I could have said more without giving too many spoilers.  Well, I suppose I’ll know for next time!

That was really the end of my bit.  There was some more music, and then Steve Smith went through the same treatment, with the primary difference that he is very used to public speaking and lecturing, and so his answers to Karl’s questions were considerably more expansive than my own.

Once he was done, we went onto the signing.  I shifted quite a few copies, although an awful lot of these were as a result of my family buying copies for their friends and relations, whether they expected (or wanted) them or not, presumably as surprise presents.  All I can say is that I hope they enjoy them, and reiterate my no-refunds position!  Other people also bought the book, and said some very kind things.  I hope that it turns out to be money well spent!

I’m clearly a weak-wristed light-weight when it comes to signing, because my hand was already aching after only half a dozen copies.  I bow in admiration to big-selling authors who have to deal with whole queues of people, all wanting an autograph, and who must have wrists of steel and sinews of iron!  It might be hoped that all the fencing I do would strengthen my wrist, but it didn’t seem to help.  The injunction to ‘wield your sword like a pen, not an axe’ obviously isn’t as literal as it might be hoped, alas.

The evening came to a close, and everything was packed up, leaving me feeling extremely tired, but rather pleased.  It was extremely pleasant evening (albeit a little nerve-wracking), and I sold quite a few copies of the book, which will hopefully lead to even more as the word spreads (assuming people like it of course!).

All in all a very good evening, and many thanks to Ernesto and Karl for setting it all up, and the rest of the team at Cornerstone for making it such a successful and pleasant event.

Things They Don't Warn You About

The hard copies of the books have arrived, and two copies have been dutifully signed and posted out to my parents and parents-in-law.  Various friends and friends of friends (and the receptionist at work) have very kindly ordered copies from Amazon, and have expressed a desire to have these signed at some point as well.

This is something for which I was not prepared.  I mean, the concept in and of itself isn’t alien to me.  I’ve only ever had one book signed myself (Space Captain Smith, when they had a book launch for the fourth in the series in the Waterstones in Milton Keynes.  The author, Toby Frost is a lovely chap, and I highly recommend the series!) but still I’m familiar with the general idea.

Writing in the two copies sent out to family was a bizarre experience in the extreme, and of course next Saturday evening, there will be an official launching of the book at Christ The Cornerstone church in Milton Keynes (to which you are warmly invited if you can make it) during which I am going to talk about (or at least answer questions on) the book, and will probably have to sign more copies.  And don't get me wrong, it's a wonderful, weird, surreal experience, and I'm not wholly convinced that I'm not going to wake up and discover it was all a dream, as my Year 3 teacher used to write at the end of all my stories.

Now I’ve done an entire Masters Degree in creative writing, although admittedly the emphasis was more on script writing than novels.  We covered film scripts, radio scripts, stage plays, and theories of writing and creativity.  What we did not cover, and which I now feel was a serious omission, was ‘What you do when you’re published’.  Even a single lecture during which we were given blank books, and could practice writing ‘To X, best wishes, Thomas Jones’ would have been highly useful.  Being told the kind of things you’re expected to say at book launches without sounding dull or unbearably pretentious would definitely have helped.

Perhaps they didn’t have very high expectations for us, and assumed it would be like including a module on ‘How to accept a Nobel Prize’ in an undergraduate physics course.  Putting the cart rather before the horse, and building up our expectations to unrealistic levels, maybe.

But still, it would’ve been handy...

A Frank and Honest Self-Portrait

What with my sudden ascendance to the rank of Published Author™, you might assume that I am in danger of becoming rather cock-a-hoop.  You may rest easy dear reader, for my wife remains vigilant against such an occurrence, but to prove my continued humility, here’s a quick and entirely honest self-portrait.  It’s an homage to (i.e definitely not just a complete rip-off of) the self-descriptive poem by Edward Lear, entitled ‘How Pleasant to Know Mr. Lear’.

If you think that the description given differs from the photograph to the right, this is only because that is a picture of the fourth-rate, out-of-work actor whom I have hired to pretend to be me on those rare occasions that I have to interact with other people.  If you do happen to meet him, be kind.  He’s had a hard life, and pretending to be me is merely the nadir of an already soul-destroying career.  He likes gingernut biscuits, if you happen to have any about your person.

A Frank and Honest Self-Portrait

How pleasant to know Mr Jones,

Bizarre and surprising, admitted.

His skin is the strangest of tones,

The surface corroded and pitted.

His build is decidedly slender,

His arms are as long as his legs,

His nose it is bulbous and tender,

He smells rather strongly of eggs.

His eyebrows are quite undivided,

He's lacking both forehead and chin,

His species is still undecided,

His voice, it is reedy and thin.

His toes are as long as his fingers,

His hands are abnormally big,

Once gone there’s an odour that lingers,

His ears are like those of a pig.

He has a bad fungal infection,

That he fondly insists is a beard,

He speaks with the strangest inflection,

His syntax is really quite weird.

Dogs whimper and bark as he passes,

Cats arch up and hiss as he nears,

He's kicked at by horses and asses,

Kids see him and burst into tears.

His opinions are most inconsistent,

In thinking he's woolly and vague,

His hygiene is quite non-existent

It's thought that he carries the plague!

He's gloomy and quite misanthropic,

But generally placid and quiet,

Newts are his favourite topic,

And make up the bulk of his diet.

Once for a bet someone kissed him,

They say that she barely survived,

Her family luckily missed him,

He fled just before they arrived.

His wit (as it's called) is the lowest,

His jokes (as he calls them) are bad,

From whence he sprang no-one knowest,

His poems can drive a man mad.

His clothing is made of old sacking,

He’s frightened of mobile phones,

And though in all qualities lacking,

How pleasant to know Mr Jones!

 

 Copyright Thomas Jones 2014