Byung Kyu Park's Personal Website

As I’ve said before, I began reading “Reason for God”, as a part of NCB winter break book club thing.

Well, I’m finally done with the book (as of last week), and I can make … general comments about the book—which is great because that’s all I have the time for at the moment.

So the book is broken into two parts. In the first part, Rev. Keller breaks down secularist arguments by arguing, (1) moral relativism (which is essentially the basis of secularism) is internally inconsistent: relativism doesn’t provide enough ground for the tenets of relativism itself, (2) doubt applies to everything; both to the Christian faith and non-believing atheism.

In the second part, Keller tries to provide the argument for Christianity—why it might be true (given the arguments given in first part, we concede that it’s not possible to prove a belief beyond all doubt—or perhaps even reasonable doubt), and why one might want it to be true.

To be blunt, I find the first part far more convincing than the second part. As I read Rev. Keller’s argument for Christianity, as a natural skeptic (but you all know that I put my skepticism to rest on certain aspects), I keep finding myself in the Devil’s advocate’s position, arguing counter-points and alternate plausible explanations that does not involve God or Jesus Christ (like a good lawyer or mathematician, I don’t have to believe in arguments that I advance; if I couldn’t do that, I would have to give up pretending to be a sophist). In contrast, I found myself mostly agreeing with Rev. Keller in the first half; it’s far much easier to agree that skeptical points of views he offered in the first half are reasonable than to agree that the options Rev. Keller is left with in the second half are indeed the only choices left for a reasonable person.

But through both the first and the second part, here’s one argument Rev. Keller makes for Christianity (that I’ve also seen Pastor Allan make, I think last week) that I do find compelling. Christian Bible, especially New Testament, is a true account, at least to the best knowledge of authors and as well as it has been transmitted to us (as verified by agreements between a number of papyri and archeological evidences), and here’s the reason why: the accounts in the gospels are so embarrassing (e.g. Peter denying Jesus three times) and so counter-productive (e.g. women, who didn’t count for much at the time, being the first witnesses of Jesus’ resurrection) that one wouldn’t make up things like that as propaganda. In fact, the only reason one would even tell such a story is because it is true and one feels obliged to tell the truth.

I found the very last chapter a little … too mysterious for me, but other than that, the book provides plenty of food for thought. In the end, there’s no guarantee that it will convince a non-believer—or even a seeker—or that it will not derail a supposed Christian, but one would be better off for having read this book than not.

The College Life group at New Church Berkeley wanted to do something to keep in touch over the winter break, so we are reading the book, The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism by Tim Keller.

I’m just through the first chapter, and well, it’s an interesting read (I’ll have more to say once I’m done reading). At the moment, I guess I have a few points on which I think I disagree with Rev. Keller: the point of view that says every religion is equally right, that they represent different parts of the Truth (coupled with the elephant and blind men analogy) does not need to be coming from a position of arrogance (i.e. that you somehow know that Truth is bigger than any of these religions). It can be a simple logically consistent position that begins from a simple assumption: “Every religion is correct to the extent of what they claim.” Given the contradictions and disagreements between these religions, the only way this assumption can be true is if there are significant areas where these religions … do not overlap as far as Truth is concerned.

Of course, how one arrives at that assumption (is it out of charity and assumption of goodness of religions? or is it as to arrive at the conclusion which diminishes every religion equally?) is a different question, but direct assumption of a view at greater truth is not … required.

Anyways. Aside from this, I guess there are some areas where I don’t feel quite comfortable (“social justice”; when it means anything other than voluntary private charity, it’s a great tool for ambitious statists), but I’ll have more to say after I’m done.

This is why I don’t trust the religious right:

I’m not terribly surprised by that outcome. The USCCB isn’t exactly a hotbed of libertarian thought. The only surprise in this chapter of ObamaCare is that the bishops stood so strongly against the bill in the first place. Most of them believe in a collective health-care approach rather than a free market, with a few notable exceptions. That’s one reason to remember that their wisdom generally remains limited to the spiritual rather than the temporal in terms of political thought.

Their goal is different from ours. Their goal is to impose their interpretation of the scripture (which may or may not be correct; I contend that they are … mistaken in substantial details, especially with regard to how charity work should be done) on the rest of the society. Our goal is individual liberty—defending institutions which are set up to defend this ultimate goal, and tearing down institutions which erode them.

From time to time, we may form alliances of convenience. But that’s all that is. They are ready to betray our conservative values the moment they think they can get something germane to their own goals accomplished, as they have now. We should never forget that.

The first commandment says,

Do not put any other gods in place of me.

Because this command is stated in negative terms, it is easy to misunderstand it as something that restricts our choice—a choice, if we were to make freely and rationally in full possession of the complete information, that we might make differently. But a deeper reading into this commandment should reveal that this is as much a “negative command” as our constitutional rights are “negative rights” (such as one that says that Congress may not make laws restricting speech).

An equivalent way to state this command is this: “No other god will have power over you.” Considering what other (false) gods were around at the time, I would take this commandment more as a promise of protection than an actual command. This commandment is more liberating than it is binding.

This statement is repeated in the New Testament as well:

“Come to me, all of you who are tired and are carrying heavy loads. I will give you rest. Become my servants and learn from me. I am gentle and free of pride. You will find rest for your souls. Serving me is easy, and my load is light.”

(Some older translations refer to “yoke”, which I thought was better for the imagery.)

Of course, by this time human sacrifice (as required by some pagan religions) had become a faded chapter of history. But the burden asked for in Christianity has proportionally gone down as well (“… each according to his ability …”). So it still remains, compared to the yokes of other preoccupations, religious or secular, the yokes of Christianity is lighter, and if the latter excludes the former, then by bearing the yokes of Christianity (or, more directly, the First Commandment), we become free of the heavier burden.

At least if you accumulated your wealth through moral, legal means:

I had lunch with a close friend yesterday. Though he was raised dirt poor (way below poverty level), he’s worked hard to obtain an education, to build a career, and he now owns a couple of businesses. It was never his aim, but now he finds he’s wealthy. He’s proud of his accomplishments — but he also feels guilty.

“I look at my extended family, and they’re still poor,” my friend told me. “They struggle. And yet I have a nice house a nice car and everything I could possibly want.” A few years ago, my friend purchased an expensive car as a reward to himself for his hard work. He could afford it, but somehow over the past few years, he hasn’t enjoyed it as much as he thought he would. He feels embarrassed to drive it. He worries that his kids will grow up to take for granted those things he views as blessings.

The same sentiment is expressed in Orson Scott Card’s Christmas at Helaman’s House. This is perhaps one moral and character flaw that pious people are much too prone to—probably through a misreading of their scripture (in the parable of a rich man and eye of a needle, the problem wasn’t his wealth; it was his attachment to it)—and it’s a tragedy.

Why do I call it a moral flaw? Well, the blog above refers to what would happen if rich people feel guilty. The fact is, poor people don’t feel guilty—maybe shame, if they have any sense—and in fact, they think they deserve everything that they have. What do you call a society where rich people feel undeserving of what they earned and poor people feel deserving of what they didn’t earn? A welfare state. And given how harmful a welfare state is to individual liberty and general welfare (after all, welfare state has to have high taxes and every tax results in dead weight, i.e. lost productivity), if your sense of morality contributes to creation of such a state, your moral compass needs recalibration.

Poor people perhaps cannot help feeling—in fact, they cannot help themselves from a lot of things—like they deserve what they have but did not earn. That’s … tolerable. That’s why they are poor. But rich people must absolutely not feel guilty when they have broken no law and when they have been generous to others.

And so should clergy on matters of science.

After all, when anybody becomes stupid or arrogant enough to speak on matters outside his expertise as if he is, he is bound to make a logical (or rhetorical) errors:

In the June 2009 issue, Jeffery Winkler treats us to a cute refutation of the dominant view that the universe was created. He first equates the word “magic” with “impossible.” This is an example of begging the question, since Webster makes no such association. He next asserts that Christians believe the universe was produced by an act of “magic.” I’ve never heard it put that way and doubt any Christian would agree with this formulation of his belief. Nevertheless, it provides a convenient straw man which Winkler has set himself up to vanquish. One assumes he was writing with tongue in cheek.

If we agree not to insult each other with sophistries such as arguing that if you haven’t lost horns, you must have horns on your head, it’s quite clear why scientists cannot speak on matters of religion (except as an ignorant layperson, as I am) and clergy cannot speak on matters of science (except as someone not quite so familiar with scientific methods and latest developments).

As for creation, that is clearly outside the realm of scientific theories. Of course, I am not saying, as Stephen Hawking claims that the Pope did at some point, that scientists are forbidden from speaking of what may have happened before Big Bang or what may have caused it. What I am saying is that currently accepted theories cannot describe the events of Big Bang as we approach t = 0. The consensus is that our theories will begin to break down (or rather, become unified) at such energy densities. There is a singularity there that we do not yet understand and I doubt anyone can devise an experiment which can shed some light on this issue (before the end of the human civilization, anyway). Where experimental evidences are silent, we are silent—sure, theorists are free to speculate, but without experimental evidences, they remain speculations.

Of course, there are overlaps between matters of science and matters of religion. History is one. If some artifact is discovered which might be significant to religion, of course science (such as carbon dating or any other forensic methods) has a role to play in analyzing its physical aspects. If religion makes claims on our physical world, such as the age of Earth, of course science has a role to play. But the truth is, when it comes down to the really fundamental question, such as the existence of a Creator (especially one that supposedly exists outside our universe), there is no such overlap.

And where there is no such overlap, scientists should shut up lest they sound stupid.

I suppose opposing the Pope no matter what is a kind of consistency, a foolish consistency, hobgoblin of little minds:

ROME (AFP) — Pope Benedict XVI on Tuesday cancelled a speech at Rome’s La Sapienza university in the face of protests led by scientists opposed to a high-profile visit by the head of the Catholic Church to a secular setting.

You know what?

I completely agree. The judgment against Galileo WAS rational and just. Execution of Bruno was completely justified. It is only a shame that Copernicus was too cowardly to publish his heresy while alive so they could have punished him for the blasphemy.

Just how ironic is it that these scientists, the so-called skeptics and champions of open discourse and intellectual freedom, are protesting the pope based on what he said, not what he did?

And also,

Cini said of Benedict on Thursday: “By cancelling, he is playing the victim, which is very intelligent. It will be a pretext for accusing us of refusing dialogue.”

Well, MISTER Cini, I do not know of your particular accomplishments in physics. But let me say that you are a disgrace to the profession of physicists and the integrity of academic researchers. If your protest was not to get the pope to cancel the visit, then what the hell was it for? Anti-religious persecution?