I Heard They Play Speed Metal In Hell

It's been 150 years since Charles Darwin wrote On the Origin of Species. There is, I hear, a re-release of Darwin's classic, including a brand spankin' new introduction co-written by the star of the switcheroo flick Like Father, Like Son, and Growing Pains, MEGACHRISTIAN Kirk Cameron.

Apparently, Darwin's book is in the public domain, so anyone can write a version of it if they want. Kirk says that he's doing a new intro with the intention of presenting a balanced view of Darwin's work. Apparently a "balanced" view means saying 'this book is bullshit' in an introduction.

Ok, so he wouldn't say "bullshit".

When I was a bit younger and a church-goin' person, I fell victim to just about the worst thing that could happen to a God-fearin' fella. I was sitting in church one sunday morning, thumbing through my Bible (I think the sermon had to do with something in Luke), when I experienced only what I can call a "reverse revelation".

It was at that moment when I suddenly stopped believing in God.

I can't explain it any other way than to say that it was sudden, like a bolt of lightening from the heavens. Really, at that moment I felt like it must have felt for Saul on the road to Damascus, except for the fact that I was suddenly an atheist. Sitting in church, no less.

I didn't feel too bad about it, though. While I was sitting there (beacuse it would have been rude to just get up and leave during a sermon), things became clearer and I finally understood. The heavy load of doubt had been lifted. I no longer felt the gulit of wrestling with my doubt because it had been revealed to me that the thing that I doubted did not exist. It was like God did me a little favor in whispering in my ear, "I'm going to tell you something, but don't tell anyone else here. I don't exist".

I thought that I should have been feeling something about not believing... guilt, worry, a sense that I was doomed to hell... nope. Nothing. I didn't feel bad about it at all. That morning while I was sitting there, receiving the most amazing news that I could have ever received in my life was the most singular moment of clarity that I had ever felt the entire time that I had even gone to church. All these years later, I still feel the same.

When it first happened, I thought that the problem might have been the church that I was going to. But each time I went to another one, the feeling was the same. I had even tried dabbling into "alternative" religious practices (yes, including Wicca, and no, it had nothing to do with that movie The Craft. But given my size and gender, Wicca would seem a natural choice). As if I were hit by the backhand of God, God said to me, "why are you insisting on doing this to yourself? I don't exist!!" I finally had to admit to myself what I already knew.

I was an atheist.

The funny thing is, is when you make the discovery of your non-believingness, none but the most millitant atheist wants to admit that that's what they are. Many of us cling to the badge "agnostic", believing that it's better to "keep our options open", than to say that we flat-out don't believe that there is a God. It's better to say that one is non-practicing than to say that one is non-believing. Eventually, however, the charade catches up with us when we realize that we aren't aganostic at all, that it's not a matter of not believing that no major religion has got it on what God is, but a matter of the fact that we believe that there is no omnicompetent being that occupies any role in the galaxy (I decided to use a definite description instead of saying that "God does not exist" for some positivist-leaning butthead saying that I've made a negative existential claim, which is something that I cannot do). Still, after many years I hadn't given up the hope of eventually believing in something. The idea of having no belief seemed like being lost, or worse yet, it smacked of disingenuity. The accusation towards many atheists is that we actually do believe in God, we're just acting out. It's not wanting to believe in God that the atheist is guilty of, not actually not believing in God.

But I knew what I felt. I felt that He did not exist. I had tried to get back the feeling that he did but failed. I had drifted from Christendom into agnosticism, theism, deism, and finally tried my hand at paganism. It was toolate for Pascal's wager and I was too disillusioned to take Kierkegaard's "leap of faith". But something still nagged at my, dare I say, soul. It wasn't long before I found myself with a copy of the Satanic Bible in my hands. I don't think that the average misanthropic teen escapes high school without at least one encounter with the late Anton LaVey's paean to the Dark Prince.

For those who are unfamiliar with LaVey's tome to the Devil, the Satanic Bible includes the Nine Satanic Statements, the 9th of which reads: "Satan has been the best friend the church has ever had, as he has kept it in business all these years!" LaVey says that, while in his youth, he worked at a carnival, and on Saturday nights he would see the men leering at the young nubile dancers. The same men, who when they returned to the carnival grounds the next morning for the tent services, would stand next to their wives and children singing hymns to God. He saw the hypocrisy of the men who indulged their flesh on Saturday night and then begged for forgiveness on Sunday morning. LaVey says that he saw how the devil was used to manipulate people into believing that all things physical were inherently evil. But as he saw it, wanting physical pleasure comes natural to people, so how can what is natural be sinful?

After reading LaVey's book, I didn't come away an atheist (namely because LaVey's "satanism" is more akin to secular humanism than actual diabolism. So one conceivably, can be a Satanic atheist), but I did see one big point to consider: namely, that LaVey's Ninth Satanic Statement works in reverse.

It's easy to say that God has been the atheist's (humanist, satanist) best friend for all these yers, as he is the one that they've been railing about for all this time!

*although I know at this point that the Wiccans would say that since their religion has nothing to do with the Christian God, that he is not their best friend. If you don't believe this, just cruise on up to your local Wiccan and tell her (because it will almost always be a her) that Wiccans are like devil worshippers. If you don't know how to spot a Wiccan, just look for the "goddess" sized young lady with the flowing hair (she'll most likely look like a heavier-set Tori Amos) and the gossamer dress if Wiccans worship the devil. Sit back and get ready to hear about the 3-fold rule and the "burning times".

After reading Christopher Hitchens' god is not great, Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion, Julian Baggini's Atheism: A Very Short Introduction, Russell's "Why I Am Not A Christian", and a handful of stuff by Michael Shermer, I realized that while I may be an atheist, I am a very Christian atheist. I realize that an atheist is only an atheist if he does not believe that there is no god. So far as our culture is concerned, that god that I maintain does not exist, is a Christian one. And like Christopher Hitchens, the god that I believe does not exist is not only Christian, but decidedly Protestant as well. I quote Hitchens, "I know enough about all religions to know that I would always be an infidel at all times and in all places, but my particular atheism is a Protestant atheism". As a product of the Protestant tradition, my atheistic values tend to echo exactly what I learned in Sunday school. I shouldn't kill or steal, or bear false witness. I believe that hard work will be rewarded, and that if one has a relationship with god, it is a personal one... And that the Pope is a sham. I cannot escape my Christian values even if I try to leave them behind. I find myself quoting Jesus on the subject of taxes or who we should treat the poor (heck, I even found myself referring to the feeding of the multitude when discussing health care). I still celebrate Christmas and prefer to hear traditional christmas hymns to the contemporary Christmas jingles by Michael Bolton or Boyz to Men (although I do like Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime"). I say "bless you" when someone sneezes, and I still write the word God with a capital G. And unlike Richard Dawkins, I wholeheartedly disagree that raising children in a religion is the same as child abuse. I always say that my hypothetical children are Christians. They gotta get their morals from somewhere, right?

We are all influenced, in one way or another, by the dominant culture. And whether I like it or not, I live in a Christian dominated/influenced culture. I can choose whether I accept the fact and move on, or whether I waste time protesting putting up "happy holidays" signs at Target. This is why I am, as I tell my friends, the most Christian atheist I know.

Although I find those who believe in God a little delusional, I understand that I can't be rid of him. I may say that I know that he doesn't exist, but there is a world out there full of people who believe that he does. And so far, I'm outnumbered billions to one. Nietzsche may have been correct when he wrote that God is dead, but like Elvis, there are still a whole hell of alot of people out there who go around singing his songs.

God Is the Ultimate OCD

I don't think that Richard Dawkins spends this much time thinking about things that don't exist. I think that someone would say that all my thoughts on God means that, deep in my heart, I'm not really a non-believer. One might say that what I'm doing is being petulant, and simply refusing to obey my Heavenly Father in the way that a child throws a temper tantrum whenever he doesn't get his way. I am something of a prodigal son, who has left his father's farm only to return when his money runs out. The reason why I keep coming back with questions about God, one may say, is because I, despite my claims, have not completely released myself from Him. Ok. They can say whatever. But lately, something has been bugging me. When I was church-goin' I was a determinist. I believed that whatever I was going to do was not only known by God, but also determined by him. When I gave up the Bible thing, I simply shifted my determinism from hard divine determinism, to a more softer biological determinism (which makes absolutely no sense at all beacuse I also claim to be an existentialist). I took a couple of philosophy of religion classes, and still I couldn't shake my belief that if God exists, then our lives are determined. The point upon which my belief hinged (and still does) is the question of God's omnicience. That is, what does God see, and more importantly, does seeing it mean he caused it to happen? I tend to believe that what God sees happens (by necessity). I know that there are plenty of people who disagree. They argue that God's seeing things does not mean that they necessarily happen, or that what God sees are possibilities, of which your choices are a part. So, even though God saw that you would be stabbed through the heart at precisely 9 am this morning, he also saw a world where you did not, and one where you were eaten by a shark instead of stabbed, etc. This seems kind of counterintuitive, as they say, to me. How can God not see exactly what will happen -- HE'S GOD?!?! My question, it seems, is this: at what point does God's all-seeing begin? Does it stretch back to the moment of creation? Is it that as soon as God said, "let there be light", he saw all that was to come? If so, and even if there are an infinite number of possible worlds, did God see all that would happen in any possible world instantaneously (when he created everything)? That would mean that, no matter what possible world God sees, he would see what I did (or, since he presumably saw this when he created the world, saw what I was going to do)? I mean, if God sees what I will do, and he is infalliable, then how wasn't his seeing somehow predictive? Unless, he only sees what I will do as I am doing it, and that doesn't quite jive with that whole Book Of Revelation thing ( That is, God sees how the world is going to end, but everything up till then is totally blank?!? That sounds so wrong that I don't even want to believe in any God that this is what's really going on). I think for some, they see God's all-seeing like we see a TV show. The plot slowly unravels in installments. God has a general idea, based on everything he's seen so far on how things are going to turn out, but some plot points remain a little vague. God knows that I will definitely put on clothes today, but he didn't exactly know that I would put on the dark blue Levis and black Pantera t-shirt. But this still sounds odd to me. (Especially since I totally strawmanned this point of view!). If God knows what we're going to do like I "know" what's going to happen on CSI:Miami next season (things will get blown up, Horatio will say something, slip on or slip off his shades and then exit to the right), then that puts God's omnicience on par with educated guesses or worse, inductive reasoning. But Those hold the possibility that we may conjure up the occasional wrong answer -- and God can't be wrong. So, I ask again, if God sees what I will do in any possible world, at what point did he see me do it? If he saw my acts at any point in the past ( this is kind of funny, since I'm now placing a non-temporal being within my temporal "time"), then God must have seen what I was going to do, and since he is also all-powerful, I am subject to his will. So it seems that I've got it double. I am not only subject to God's foresight, I am also completely unable to do anything but what he has already ordained that I shall do. Now, I realize that there's a "massively irregular universe" objection coming if I say that we are subject to God's will, and that I have no other choice than to obey. But one raises that objection against physical intervention from our heavenly creator. If every time I or anyone was in a dangerous situation, God did something to stop the bad from happening, that would create the miu problem. But God tends to be more subtle. He suggests, he gives visions, and visitatons from angels... we aren't so much thrown into submission as gently glided into doing exactly what God says. No matter how I try to worm free will into it, I keep coming up on the problem that it seems to me that no matter what, God has already set everything up. I don't see any way that the Puritans (at least on this point) weren't right. I know that this, that is, the idea that our lives may be predetermined isn't popular. It tends to give a person the uneasy feeling that no matter what they do, everything we do doesn't count for anything. Whether we go to Calcutta to succor the poor, or run off to El Salvador to join a death squad, the outcome is beyond our control. Nothing we can do can influence our standing with God. That's pretty depressing, especially if we see that we are destined to burn in hell, and that there is nothing that we can do about it. Oh well. I guess, when all is said and done, only time will tell. Which is all we can say about pretty much any other matter of philosophy. FIN

Gettier Gods

I think that I have an OCD. Really. I'm an atheist, but I just can't seem to stop thinking about God. I guess it may be due to, in some part, the fact that I live in a culture that is, whether it practices it or not, Christian. No matter where I go, there is either a "God bless you", "have a blessed day", or someone declaring that they've been blessed. So, no matter how hard I try, God and thinking about God is unavoidable. This would be bad, if not for the fact that I have this blog. At least it gives me something to write about. That said, I was thinking some time ago about my philosophy of religion class (that I had almost a year ago). There was, as I recall (then again, I could be making this up for the sake of making a point), there was some talk about the limits (if any) of the powers of God, namely on the topic of God's omnipotence. The question was, are there things that God can't see? That is, if we say that God knows all (all events that happen in the past, present and future), how can humans have free will? Well, for one, when I was a Christian, I was steadfastly a determinist. I figured that God, being a all-powerful being, had ultimate knowledge. There is no thing that he does not see. And being that he saw any particular event, it has to happen.The events of our lives are not only seen by God, but also actively planned.I thought that, if God even sees all things generally, he also sees what occurs specifically -- including the choices that we make. And since God's knowledge is eternal, he may have seen what I'm doing right now the instant that he created the universe. So, I figured, there is not such thing as free will for people. But my Christianity didn't stay with me for long. I soon shrugged it off in favor of the cold, harsh cynicism of atheism. When I started on the path to Hell (i.e. becoming an atheist), I slid from divine determinism to biological determinism. Instead of God commanding my destiny, my choices were determned by my genes. Anatomy is destiny, as they say. This has always been a problem for me -- not because I don't like the idea of everything I do being beyond my control, but because I fancy myself an existentialist. And that's all free will. I know that, even among non philosophers, the idea of determinism is none too popular. People don't like the idea that the things that they do are out of their control. That makes sense. I hate the idea myself. But, for the life of me, I can't figure how a God that sees all events in all times does not in some way determine my fate. Which made me think of something that I heard on the radio a couple of years ago. Out here in So Cal, there's a radio show that comes on on Sunday mornings called "the Jesus Christ show" (it's on KFI AM 640, for those who want to know). The show is hosted by the Son of Man himself! The format is that callers call in with questions to Jesus and he answers them. I suppose that all of his answers are the correct ones, given the fact that he's Jesus. Better than calling Dr. Laura. Anyway, a couple of Christmases ago, a caller asked Jesus about predestination. She wondered how man can have free will in the same universe with a God that sees and knows all. She said that even if we attempt to do otherwise, God can make you do what he has seen you do, and since we humans cannot defy God (I'm thinking that she meant physically), we are subject to God's will. Therefore, she concluded, we have no free will. Jesus answered that man does in fact have free will. Despite the fact that God is all-seeing, all-knowing, and all-powerful, we humans still determine our own choices in life. Jesus said that the caller was mistaken, and gave an example of what is meant when we say that God sees and knows all. He explained it by way of analogy: Jesus said that our free will and God is like "The Newlywed Game". He said that, during the game, one spouse let's say the husband, is secluded from his wife while she is asked a series of intimate questions (usually something to do with "whoopee"). The husband returns and is asked the same questions. They get points when their questions match. So let's say that the wife is asked "what part of your body does your husband like most?". She answers. "he likes my very shapely rear end". When the husband returns from seclusion, he is asked the same question. He answers, "well, my wife knows that I totally dig her sweet bum!". He got the same answer. Jesus told the caller that God's knowledge is just like that. He said that the fact that the husband answered the same as his wife doesn't mean that he knew what she was going to say. He said that God gets the answer right despite the fact that he doesn't know what we're going to do exactly. But then, all sorts of red, flashing lights went off in my head. The husband guessed the right answer. He really had no clue what she was going to say. A man's knowledge of what goes on in his wife's head is limited. But when we speak of God, this is not the case. God knows what we feel in our hearts. He knows about the sins that we merely think about. So, if God knows all the nasty thoughts (well, to be honest -- in most cases, desires) that I entertain about rock stars, former high school classmates, and college professors, how can he not know what actions that I will undertake during the course of my lifetime? It seemed to me that the God that radio Jesus was describing was a God who only managed to get the right answers by guessing the right ones. He was right, but only gettierally. Besides, that, I know that, given the law of averages, some guesses are bound to be wrong. If there is even a chance that God might ( God forbid) guess wrong, then what does that mean for a God who among his qualities is perfection? I'd say that that would make him not God, wouldn't it? Well, some people out there say that what the deal is, is that God sees all possibilities, that is, among the possible thousands of choices that we could have made in any situation, God sees every one of them, which includes the one that we eventually choose. So, say there are five possible worlds, and I'm trying to figure out which pair of shoes to wear. In one world, I put on my black Converse high tops. In another, I choose the white Nikes. In another, I wear high heels. In the fourth, I put on flip-flops, and in the fifth, I go barefoot. God sees all of these. (he sees every possible alternative, even the ones that I'm not aware that I have). All of these includes the choice that I make. I choose, since it's such a nice day, to go barefoot. Now, that allows me to choose, since God saw everything and not me specifically. But I still have a problem. If God sees possible worlds, who he saw in those other worlds wasn't me -- as I exist in this particular world. He saw someone who looked like me who put on a pair of Converse high tops, but I, in this world, did not. So, God doesn't know what will happen anywhere, which is really bad for the creator of the universe. Then again, we say that God sees all possibilities. Even if there are a million, God sees them (which leads me to ask, is there a point where we say that all those possibilities of everyone on the earth makes God's task of seeing all possibilities too big of a task for God?). That means that my array of choices is within God's knowledge. God is still setting the boundaries of my choices. Even if he sees all choices, my actual choice is there -- he still saw it. This means to me that God is not only determining what goes on in my particular universe, but since all of those other people in those other possible universes (who look like me) have choices that are seen by God, he knows what they're going to do. God not only determines choices here, but in all of those other worlds as well. Wow.

Why I Am A Secular Christian

I don't believe in God. I know that, as a philosopher, that statement, in and of itself, can be a dangerous one to make. It might be assumed that, by saying that I don't believe in God that I am also (implicitly) stating that I not only believe that there is no God, but also saying that I know that there is no God. And to that charge, I plead gulity. I will say, without reservation, that I both believe that there is no God, and know that there is no such thing as God. Of course, we (myself included) refer to an omnicompetent being (called God), and that for some, he is as real as you and I. My point, and I want to make this point clearly and quicky, is not to debate the evidence for or against the existence of a supreme divine being -- nor am I interested in taking up the various metaphysical and epistemological debates associated with declaring that I know that there is no God. Those arguments are for the real philosophers, and they can, frankly argue those points 'til the cows come home. My point is a little closer to home. I've heard it said that, if there is no God, then there is no morality. That is, without an ultimate measure (and one might say punishment) for rightness and wrongness, there is no reason to act morally. In a world without God, it is said, all is justified and all is permitted. Likewise, as an atheist, I am often accused of lacking morality. Well, perhaps this is a bit extreme -- and I might say that such a charge is easily disproven -- anyone who claims that an atheist lacks any moral sense should ask himself how he walked away from the conversation with his wallet firmly planted in his pocket and with all of his limbs. But, the accusation is there -- atheists are often asked to justify from where their morality comes from. Until some time ago, I used to say that my moral base was rooted in egoism. Egoism is the moral theory that states that all acts are morally correct if the act benefits the actor. That is, if I do what is good for me, then I am acting morally. I had embraced egoism, and had justified my decisions, even those that appeared to be in accordance with another moral theory, as being in line with egoism, but looking a lot like kantianism or utilitarianism. I realized that I had embraced egoism because I had felt that my atheism precluded my embracing any objective moral theory. But, whenever I was asked my (ethical) positions on various moral topics, my ethical views were always solidly rooted in what could only be best described as Christian ethics. I often found myself quoting (or at least paraphrasing) Jesus whenever I laid down my ethical views. But I was an atheist. How could I reconcile my lack of belief with my morality? That's when I came to a startling conclusion: what I was, or rather what I am, is a secular Christian. I know what the first objection may be (as well as it should be): how can a person claim to be a Christian yet claim that there is no God. You cannot separate one from the other. And to that point, I concede. I am not claiming to be a Christian. The first word I use is secular. That word is used first because secularism is the overriding quality of my ethics. I am still a committed atheist. I believe that we can find morality without God, and I believe that, as rational beings, mankind possesses the ability to act in a good (or bad) manner. Secondly, one may say that what I am doing is playing a game of semantics. I am trying to disguise humanism as something other than what it is. My belief in man's capacity to do right and wrong and find truth are the principles of humanism. The humanist, like myself, rejects religion's role in the public sphere. And like the humanist, I tend to look to worldly things (like "common sense" or even logic) for moral guidance rather than getting down on my knees and praying for divine guidance. But unlike the humanist, I have recognized the part that the Christian ethic plays in my life. Like many people in the West, I was raised within a society that was based (whether I liked it or not) on the Christian ethic -- in particular, the Protestant ethic. My moral choices have always been made through the prism of Christianity. I think that it is important to make an important distinction here: what makes the Christian a Christian is his belief. He believes that there is a God who loves him and looks after him. He believes that there is a God that will reward him with eternal grace for his beliefs. His ethics are grounded in his belief in God. And this is where the Christian and I part ways. My ethics are grounded in a choice to follow rather than believe that the word of God is true. Bertrand Russell wrote," it may be not belief but feeling that makes religion: a feeling which, when brought into the sphere of belief, may involve the conviction that this or that is good, but may, if it remains untouched by the intellect, be only a feeling and yet be dominant in action". If what Russell says is true, then I may accept the word of Christ as feeling, yet not commit to his words as belief. So I ask, even if we do not believe in the Bible (as the word of God) or reject the divinity of Christ, what should stop us from embracing Christianity as a set of ethics and not as a set of beliefs? (That is, if I take my moral choices as a matter of what I feel rather than what I believe?) I feel that the ethics as written in the Bible (the Ten Commandments, the Golden Rule, etc.) are moral rules that are more conductive to living a good life. There is no need ( other than the Bible itself telling me so) to accept the notion that the Bible was composed by a celestial inspired hand or that Jesus was indeed the son of God.

I have a bone to pick with you, Alvin Plantinga

Ok. So today I'm out for a walk, doing as I always do, which is relive old philosophy classes inside my head. Quite pathetic. Well, while on this particular outing, I started thinking first, about my general anger towards philosopy in general, and second, about my still fuming hostility towards a certain class that I sat in on last summer. Being that I am an atheist, I have a fondness towards those who believe in god (albeit foolishly) and, even more so, those who take all that believing in a supreme deity seriously enough to write about their belief. What's even more amazing than that is the fact that they encourage others to believe, and others actually do so. So, as I walked down the street, I thought about last summer's philosophy of religion class. Now, there are exactly two things that I have something of a dislike for -- one, bees, and two, the city of Clairmont, Califorina. I can't exactly explain what it is that unnerves me about the environs, but there's something that makes me cringe whenever I'm there. Maybe it's the fact that the people who attend the college(s) there look like "college people". They look exactly like what college people would look like if someone were casting a TV show about a liberalesque college hamlet filled with people that you'd only meet in a TV show about a liberalesque college hamlet. As I am a natural-born cynic and anti-collegian, the whole scene unnerves me greatly. But, that's where the class was held, and if I wanted to learn anything about god, that's where I'd have to be. Wait -- let me clear up this one thing first. I wasn't there because I actually wanted to be there. I was there for a friend, who, so to not be taking an independent study class alone, wanted me to tag along. I did, but soon realized that I could have stayed home, since the class consisted not only of my friend and I but also of two other people, not including the professor. But, dispite my cynicism, I am a loyal friend, and I accompanied my buddy (albeit begrudgingly) to Clairmont for talk of God. Well, if anything, what the atheist hates more than belief in general, are those who write about why we should believe. Most atheists, fortunately for them, are only aware of those who tend to garner the spotlight, that is, the usual round of televangelists and religious "motivational speakers". They don't have to deal with those who, in addition to calling themselves intellectuals, also call themselves believers. Unfortunately, I was one of those unfortunate lot who had made the mistake of thinking that philsophy was a have for the fallen like myself. How wrong I was. The philosopher on the summer's agenda: Alvin Plantinga. I had been exposed to Plantinga the previous spring, during another philosophy of religion class. Try as one might, I was never swayed by Plantinga's position on the problem of evil. And, I spent a lot of time being made to feel like disagreeing with Plantinga was some sort of philosophic blasphemy -- which is kind of funny when you think of it considering the fact that the man writes about god. At least I found it slightly amusing. Anyway, there I was again, reading Plantinga in Clarmont -- seething. I know that from time to time we encounter an idea, be it philosophical or not, that we just have to yell 'that's complete crap!' even if we can offer no better position to the one to which we object. Well, I encountered one such idea: sensus divinitatis or divine sense. This, in my nutshell, is the idea that we somehow have warranted belief in god because god somehow afflicts our brains directly. Whatever. I didn't believe it then, and I don't now. You see, I learned several things during that class. One thing I learned is that it is useless to argue against an agnostic philosophy professor. I mentioned on several occasions, that we could just as easily explain our god experiences by pointing to a physiological cause. That is, if we could prove that we can create the divine sense by way of artificallly stimulating specific areas of the brain, then we can say that perhaps it is not god that touches our brain, but a particular sensation caused by particular chemical and/or electronic reactions going on inside of our brains. I wasn't claiming to have come up with some sort of Plantinga-busting argument, or at the very least coming up with anything original. My idea truly was not -- I had fully copped it from an article that I read in Time magazine. Still, I had the feeling that no matter what I said, even if that included god himself explaining how he wasn't touching our brains, but that what we experienced as "Him" was in fact a mere chemical process, I wasn't going to get far with pushing my point of view into the realm of equal consideration. Which brings me to today's walk outside. I was thinking: maybe I was going about what I thought all wrong. I was focusing on causes and effects and not on the beliefs themselves. Here's what I mean: I was confusing what I thought because I wasn't thinking clearly about what I was thinking. (And as a fan of Orwell and Wittgenstein, this is the wrong thing to do). I was casually using words interchangably when I shoud have been focusing on them for precision. What I was doing was using the words "belief" and "hope" as the same. They are not. I can hope for a great many things, but every hope isn't, and indeed shouldn't be necessarily tied to any particular belief. Such is the case when I think about god. I was about 23 when I "outed" myself as an atheist. (I believe that there are Three Closets: One: outing oneself as a homosexual. Two: outing oneself as a "bear". And, Three: Coming out as an atheist. I can only imagine the torment of atheist gay bears out there). And it took even more years before I really felt any comfortability saying it to people other than friends and family. I had said that I didn't believe in god while somehow secretly smuggling the hope that there is. So, whenever I would think about what I "believed", I always ended up in some dreadful agnostic position, which was exactly where I didn't want to be. I even started qualifying my statements, like saying that I lived "atheistically" meaning that I reserved the right to claim that god exists, while simultaneously verbally denying his existence and living as if he did not exist. My spiritual life became a weird celestial contradiction: I believed and yet did not believe in god. But the contradiction wasn't real, as much as it was a product of sloppy thinking. My backdoor hope was muddying up the waters because I had mislabeled it as a belief. Now, I suppose that I could ask if sentiments (that is some sort of emotional feeling) qualify as beliefs. I'm not sure whether I want to venture a guess on that subject. But, what is clear to me now is that what I felt in my head (and I am using the word 'felt' intentionally), was not the hand of god rapping at my brain, it was the hope that, when I die, I'm not wrong after all. I want there to be a god. I sincerely do. But, all that I believe tells me that he does not exist. ( I am fond of saying that I had a long conversation with god during which he revealed to me that he does not exist). I don't know where exactly my thoughts fit in to what I was reading during the summer, or whether some philsopher much brighter than I has already trotted this one out, and it's already been rendered to the philosophic dustbin. All I do know is that I now know that what I thought was my feeling of god was neither a simple firing of a dendrite nor was it god himself letting me, for a split second, experience the awsomeness of what he is. It was ... well, I'm not sure exactly what to say that it was. It is my hope, (there it goes again) however, that whatever it is that is actually going on in my brain, that it does not ever lead me to sit in on another philosophy of religion class in Clairmont again. Cheers!