Post 100: What I Believe

This is my one hundredth post!  I’m shocked; I had no idea that I had so much to say, or so much inclination to say it.  What’s even more shocking is that apparently there are also people with an inclination to read it.  Since you, by dint of reading these words are clearly one of these wise and tasteful people, then all I can say is thank you.  According to the Blogger statistics, this blog has received 8563 views, including 947 in the last month alone.  I’ve read that many of these will actually just be Googlebots at work, and not real people, so the statistics are misleading, but hopefully some of what I’ve written has helped those Googlebots, and led them to determine to be better, purer Googlebots than they were before.  Either way, Googlebots (turns out I quite like saying ‘Googlebots’) notwithstanding, I suddenly feel a weird nervousness and sense of responsibility.  I suddenly feel like I ought to be writing important things about important things, rather than merely airing my ill-informed opinions on whatever happens to have caught my fancy on a given day.

Well, as a strategy it’s worked so far, so I’ll stick with it for now.  However, I thought that for my 100^th post, I’d maybe do something slightly different.  I make constant allusions to my own beliefs, religious and political, but I’ve never really outlined what they actually are.  This post then will be a vague summary of what it is I believe, at the time of writing.  Again, why you’d care what I believe I have no idea, except that it might provide some sort of context for my other posts, and make it easier to argue with me.

If asked, I would classify myself as a moderate in most things.  I would call myself a moderate Christian, since I seem to be more theologically liberal than most conservatives, and more conservative than most liberals.  Politically and socially I would say that I’m the same.

During my late teens and very early twenties, the beliefs of my childhood blurred into a vague deism.  As I got older, I started to read about Christianity, almost out of curiosity, and started to reformulate my beliefs according to what made sense to me and seemed best.  I found myself reading Chesterton’s ‘Orthodoxy’.  Early on in the book, he writes, “I did try to found a heresy of my own; and when I had put the last touches to it, I discovered that it was orthodoxy.”  It almost perfectly encapsulated my own experience, in that my carefully thought-out heterodoxy turned out to mirror both Methodist theology and Methodist social policies almost (but not quite) exactly.

Theologically then, I can recite the Creed with only minor mental caveats.  I believe in God, in the Trinity, in the divinity of Christ and in the virgin birth (although this latter I consider to be a fairly unimportant point, true or false).  I believe in miracles, in the crucifixion, the resurrection and the ascension.  I believe in a form of original sin, but I believe it to be the genetically ingrained self-centred legacy of a period of our evolution during which self-centredness was a survival trait, and a period which we have now left behind as spiritual creatures.  I believe in the substitutionary atonement of Christ, and that God’s prevenient Grace is offered to all people, who are free to take or reject it as they choose, and to do so more than once.  I believe in prayer and social religion, in human free will and that God has chosen to subordinate His sovereignty to it, and allow us to make our own choices and live with the consequences of them.  I believe in an immortal soul, and in existence after death.  I do not believe in Hell, in the traditional sense, but might go so far as to believe either in isolation from God, or in simple annihilation of the soul.  I believe that this world is a preparation for the next, although I have no idea what form that might take.

I believe in a single catholic (note the lower case 'c') church, one body made of many different parts, and despite significant historical and contemporary wrongs, that it is overwhelmingly a power for good.  I believe that the Bible is divinely inspired, but written by fallible but highly-learned men, and not that it is in and of itself the perfect word of God.  I believe it to be an authority, but not a final or absolute one.  I believe that it must be understood within the historical and social contexts within which it was written, and with an understanding, as far as possible, of the individuals who wrote it, their biases and prejudices.  I believe in evolution, and in the Big Bang (pending better theories).  I believe the account of creation in Genesis to be allegorical at best, and that science has revealed many stories of the Bible to be untrue.  I believe in science as our greatest tool for revealing and understanding the vast, wondrous and beautiful universe in which we live, but I believe that there are questions that science is not and never will be in a position to answer.

Socially, I believe that all people are born equal.  Gender, skin colour, religion (or lack thereof) and sexuality should be considered completely unimportant compared to a person’s ethics, morals and character.  I believe that people of varying and even opposing backgrounds, beliefs and opinions can, should and do co-exist, converse and discuss in a spirit of mutual respect and compassion.  I do not believe homosexuality or homosexual sex to be intrinsically wrong.  My understanding of marriage is that it is a lifelong, monogamous relationship between two people.  The gender of the people involved I do not consider to be at all important next to that lifelong, monogamous commitment.

I do believe abortion to be very wrong.  I acknowledge that there are circumstances in which it is a lesser evil, and therefore permissible, but it is an evil nonetheless. I believe it to be nothing other than the killing of a human being, whose only crime is to inconveniently exist.  I believe that no human being is unwanted.  Similarly, I utterly oppose the death penalty, in all circumstances.  I believe euthanasia and assisted suicide to be wrong.  I believe that life is sacred and not to be thrown away.

I believe that we have a moral duty and a divine imperative to shelter the homeless, feed the starving, support the poor, and welcome the stranger.  I believe that society has a responsibility to look after its most vulnerable members, and that no-one is outside of society.  I believe that there are no foreigners, no outsiders, merely human beings; no Them, merely Us, and that we should all work together for the good of all.  I believe that there are no absolute rights, but many absolute responsibilities, that no-one has the right not to be disagreed with, not to be offended, not to be opposed, but that everybody has the responsibility to speak courteously and kindly, even in disagreement or opposition.

Perhaps most importantly, I believe that I do not have all the answers, do not know all the facts, have not considered all the viewpoints, am not free of biases and prejudices of my own.  These are my beliefs, but they are not set in stone.  They can and ought to change with new insights and new information, and as such I believe that I ought to listen respectfully to those whose beliefs differ to mine, even if they seem very wrong to me.  These are my beliefs, but I don’t claim that they are correct, merely that they are mine.

I believe that that is probably enough for now.  This then is what I believe, but not my reasons for believing it.  They would probably fill a lengthy and rather boring book that I have even less inclination to write than you do to read.

This has been rather a long post, but hopefully it hasn’t been a completely pointless one, and has clarified my position on a few things.  I wonder what I’ll end up writing about for my next hundred posts…?

On Judicially Applied Judgement

Pope Francis recently made headlines when he questioned the Christianity of US politician and presidential hopeful Donald Trump, as a result of things Trump has said, and some of his policies. 

The Pope is quoted as having said "A person who thinks only about building walls, wherever they may be, and not of building bridges, is not Christian. This is not the gospel."  He qualified this a little; "I say only that this man is not Christian if he has said things like that. We must see if he said things in that way and I will give him the benefit of the doubt."

Unsurprisingly, Mr. Trump reacted angrily to this, and insisted that the Pope had no right or authority of whatsoever to question his faith, or that of anyone else.  Obviously, in America, and especially in certain parts of America, your spiritual credentials are vital if you wish to gain office.  Trump’s supporters and the Pope’s detractors, who are not necessarily the same people at all, have pointed out that the Vatican has walls of its own, but to be fair to Francis, these were built a long time ago, and proved very useful in keeping out rowdy German tourists back in the 16^th century.

However, the question of how much, or indeed whether at all anyone is in a position to make statements regarding someone’s religion is one I’d like to consider.

It will shock you to learn that on one occasion, I agreed with Richard Dawkins.  No, really!  I said as much on Facebook, and people wondered whether I’d been hacked.  It was only once, on one issue, but it happened.  It was in the run-up to the 2011 census, and Professor Dawkins was trying to persuade people not to tick the ‘Christian’ box purely as a default, instead choosing ‘No Religion’.  Obviously he was pushing this for reasons of his own, in order to demonstrate with statistics that the UK is no longer a majority Christian country, but I agreed with him.  I see no value in saying you’re a Christian if you never attend Church, never pray, never read the Bible, and don’t hold the fundamental beliefs of Christianity.  It seems intellectually dishonest unless you preface it with some qualifier like ‘cultural’.

But then of course, the question is, as Donald Trump has said, who is it that gets to decide who is Christian and who is not?  I mean, obviously I could do it, but even then some people might disagree with me, purely out of contrariness.  What constitute the ‘fundamental beliefs’ that one must hold to count oneself a Christian?  Certainly there are plenty of more conservative Christians who’d say that my acceptance of homosexuality, in glib defiance of Leviticus, discounts me immediately.  I might think, as the Pope appears to do, that if you harden your heart and act in a way that is uncaring of the suffering of the poor, refugees and immigrants, and would rather shut out, judge and condemn than welcome and forgive, then you can hardly be a follower of Christ.

We cannot see into men’s souls, nor should we want to.  However, I am wary of the assertion that self-identification should be the final word.  ‘I self-identify as a Christian, therefore you have no right to tell me I’m not’.  You can self-identify as a giraffe if you like, but unless you’ve got a tail, fur covered in dark patches, a long neck and those odd little horns, you’re fooling no-one but yourself.  You can claim to be a botanist, but if you have never studied botany, never read any books on the subject, have no interest in botany and assert that botany is the academic study of doorknobs, I’ll be forced to disagree with your self-identification.

Christianity is a rather broader label than either botany or giraffedom.  Nonetheless, it is my opinion (I make no claim that it’s anything else) that there are surely a few core criteria.  My day job is in marketing, and within this subject is the idea that a product is merely a collection of benefits.  “People don’t buy quarter-inch drill bits,” a quote by a famous entrepreneur goes, “they buy quarter-inch holes”.  One doesn’t buy a car, the theory runs, one buys a means of travelling swiftly and comfortably from A to B.  Beyond this ‘Core Product’ though, you have the expected product (everything you’d expect a car to come with; seats, a steering wheel, doors, an engine, a dashboard), the augmented product (the nice things that most cars nowadays come with; radio, sunroof, air conditioning) and the potential product (anything that a car might conceivably have).

The thing is, you could have every single thing a luxury super-car could have; drinks cooler, hi-tech music system, Sat-nav, shoe-polisher, flux capacitor etc etc etc, but if you remove the engine, you suddenly don’t have a car at all.  You have removed the core benefit, and what you’re left with is a very expensive husk that defeats its own purpose.

You can have a complex, well-thought out theology with all sorts of philosophical bells, whistles and curlicues, but there are certain core beliefs, which ought to lead to certain core behaviours, without which your car lacks an engine, and it is my opinion that you cannot truly claim to be a Christian without them.

Of course, then you are in real danger of drifting into something I’ve written about before, which is the belief that a person cannot be a True Christian™ unless they share a certain set of political or other ideological beliefs.  It’s an insidious and easily fallen into trap, and one that I am constantly wary of stumbling into.

After all, do I have the right or the authority to point the finger of judgement and excommunication at some poor wretch who, no doubt through an honest misunderstanding, has come to an opinion other than mine?  Of course not, any more than they have towards me, but I can hold an opinion on the subject, as of course can they.  We cannot know what is in other people’s hearts, only what they say and do.  Should we judge them?  No, we should not, but it is inevitable that we will do so.  It’s human nature, just as long as we bear in mind that our judgements are merely our opinions, worth no more or less than theirs.  It is merely one of a great many questions that only one Person is in a position to answer, and until that time, the best we can do is debate in as courteous and friendly a manner as is possible.

Agreeing to Agreeably Agree to Disagree

On the 5^th of February, well-known Angry Atheist, Richard Dawkins suffered a minor stroke (caused, apparently, by high blood pressure).  Now, it is well-known that I’m no fan of Professor Dawkins (I love the description of him by John Finnemore; “He’s a very clever man, who’s also a bit of an idiot”), but I’m nonetheless genuinely glad that he appears to be making a full recovery.

In response to this, the Church of England’s official Twitter account tweeted “Prayers for Prof Dawkins and his family”, which, considering how scathing Dawkins is about religion in general, but especially Christianity, is in my opinion a very Christian gesture.  Incredibly (but actually, possibly predictably) a lot of people online assumed that the Church were being sarcastic or deliberately mocking.

It is extremely tempting to see this as people judging by their own standards.  I’ve spoken before about the propensity of the vocal minority of vehement anti-theists that to prefer to trade in insults and mockery than to engage in courteous debate, and perhaps they assume that therefore this must be the Church doing exactly the same thing.  The idea that a group or individual could hear that an enemy is ill, and wish to see them recover, and send sincere good wishes and prayers is perhaps entirely foreign to their way of thinking.  “Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, pray for those that hate you,” is presumably not in their lexicon.

One respondent to the tweet asked whether it was “sarcastic or ignorant?”  By asking the question, they have, in my opinion, displayed their own ignorance.  After all, if, as Dawkins et al believe, prayer is nonsense, then nothing bad can come of it, and if they’re wrong, then only good will come of it.  It has been suggested that since Dawkins is so vehemently opposed to prayer, saying that you’re praying for him can’t be anything but provocative, but frankly he should be accepting them in the spirit in which they’re intended.  I have several pagan friends, and if they wish me a happy Imbolc or Samhain, I don’t assume that they’re being antagonistic, I assume they’re being nice.  Again, perhaps these people are judging by their own antagonistic standards?

I have a confession.  Before about three days ago, I had never heard of Antonin Scalia.  That possibly makes me extremely ignorant.  I understand that he was a US Supreme Court Judge, and based on the reactions to the news of his death by my more conservative and liberal friends, I understand that he was very strongly on the conservative side.  It sounds like I agree with some of his opinions, and disagree with many others, in some cases fairly strongly.

He has now died, and conservatives are mourning, as well they might.  However, I have frankly been disgusted by some of the online reactions to his death by the more liberal side.  Disagree with him; it is your right.  Oppose him; it is your moral duty, if that is where your morals point you.  Mock him?  Insult him?  Crow about his death at what, nowadays, is a comparatively young age?  You are merely disparaging yourselves, and confirming the worst of what your opponents think of you.

I am well aware that like the Angry Atheists, such people in the politically liberal camp are a vocal minority, but one of the downsides of the internet is that such vocal minorities, of any group or side, are much more visible than ever before, while the silent moderate majority are just as silent as ever, and thus every group or faction appears to outsiders to be composed almost solely of its extremist fringes.

It is possible to agree to disagree.  It is possible to be courteous to those who disagree with you.  It is even possible to be friends with those who disagree with you.  Indeed, many people whom I consider to be good friends bizarrely and perversely persist in disagreeing with me on a variety of topics.  Well, all I can say is that I consider it to be a Good Thing.  Usually.  Not always.  Sometimes they're just plain wrong.

But if you disagree with me about this, then I will, on this occasion, allow it.