This is a modification of a letter I wrote to my dad & brother one pensive late night. It followed two long responses to a set of questions I sent them:
1. What are the four most important books of the Bible?
2. Who wrote these books?
3. When, in relation to the life of Jesus, were these four books written?
4. Did Jesus write anything? Why/why not?
I was expecting typical responses, i.e. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, etc., which (surprise, surprise) I got back. In the interest of privacy, I'm not going to publish these answers. Just to be clear, I sent them the questions, they responded just as any Protestant would. So without further ado, here's how I responded to their answers. This will serve as my Letter to a Christian Nation (thanks, Mr. Harris):
I've come to the conclusion that it is indeed fruitless to engage in a debate on the topic of whether or not god exists. I had a long, point by point rebuttal planned for all Christians, but I'll have to concede up front that nothing I write or say in the realm of logic, rational thinking, or rhetoric will move this dialogue in a constructive direction. I'd like to agree to disagree, but I'm just not satisfied with complacency on this topic.
As with your responses to my question, I'll give you guys the condensed and incomplete version of my journey toward agnosticism regarding anything supernatural, and my provisional consideration of atheism. I might even show you that you're an atheist.
So it begins:
When I was younger, I always found it incredibly easy to envision a god who was there for me; my very own personal deity who actively took an interest in my well-being, and sent his son to earth to absorb the badness of everything I did, said, or thought, past present and future. Everything was covered. Dad, I think it might have been all throughout my childhood, but I was always interested in what you had to say about god, because everything I learned in Sunday school about god was pretty much describing you. You were thoughtful, caring, forgiving, a bit jealous at times, and sometimes vengeful. For a significant portion of my life, you were omnipotent (especially when we wrestled in the living room in WV), omnipresent (especially when we did something we weren't supposed to do), and omniscient (especially when you taught us how to reason through a problem). I doubt I'm the sole carrier of these feelings, as every protestant father-son relationship is likely structured this way.
My big question here, looking back is: did we really need to extend our beliefs into the supposed heavens to uncover what we so often found in our mundane, materially earth-bound existence? Dad, being himself, was enough for me. I don't know about you guys, but whenever I was younger, I always had "dad" in the back of my mind when I thought of "god" or "Jesus." Wouldn't it be the same then, if every instance of the word "god" or "Jesus" were removed from Sunday school and replaced with "dad"? True, these aren't perfect analogues, but there is research showing that there is a specific area of the brain that's associated with spiritual experiences. Might there be even the slightest possibility that our experiences of god are correlated with such a mechanistic process? Perhaps Sunday school indulged our childish whims as we happily engaged in an immature proto-spirituality.
But, as I grew older, this spirituality started getting fuzzier and grayer as my relationship with the real world grew stronger.
This idea that god was perfect eroded as I began thinking about how closely the Sunday school teacher's god correlated with my concept of dad.
Dad, I know you have your faults, as all of us do. They were always there, and will always be there. I'm not talking about any specific faults, just that you, as a human being are far from faultless. Come to think of it, some of these congenital faults will manifest themselves in the course of my fatherhood. Imperfection is indemic to the human race. Knowledge of and vigilance for these faults should keep me on my feet, as well as stoke the learning process of fatherhood.
But wait, if god created us in his own image, isn't there a possibility, even slightly, that he has some faults, just as we do as fathers? As an agnostic, I'd rather choose a path away from this blissfully ignorant childhood.
Once I began to consider this idea, the whole wall became more and more transparent. No, I didn't set sail in some sort of spiritual odyssey, as some Christians wax mystically. As I learned more about the pale blue dot we occupy in this vast universe, one question led to another: "Where is god? What is the mechanism by which god contacts humans? Is god bound by the laws of relativity and gravity? If not, how does he circumvent these laws? If aliens exist (it's becoming more and more likely, we've discovered 473 exoplanets, the most recent of which was discovered in March of this year), did god create them?" I see it as poking my finger through the eggshell that was obscuring my view from a wider, brighter universe. To me, this universe does not require implausible supernatural events such as virgin births, miracles, and cosmic acrobatics to instill in me a deep and fulfilling sense of awe of what's directly observable.
I'd like to explain what I think of the Bible, but first, can you tell me what's unique about this Lady Gaga video? Hint: you don't have to watch the video to get the right answer... Good luck!
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