What Stephen Fry Would Say To God

Transcript:

Gay Byrne: Suppose it’s all true, and you walk up to the pearly gates, and are confronted by God. What will Stephen Fry say to him, her, or it?

Stephen Fry: I’d say, bone cancer in children? What’s that about? How dare you? How dare you create a world to which there is such misery that is not our fault. It’s not right. It’s utterly, utterly evil. Why should I respect a capricious, mean-minded, stupid God who creates a world that is so full of injustice and pain. That’s what I would say.

Byrne: And you think you are going to get in, like that?

Fry: No. But I wouldn’t want to. I wouldn’t want to get in on his terms. They’re wrong. Now, if I died and it was Pluto, Hades, and if it was the twelve Greek gods, then I would have more truck with it, because the Greeks were… They didn’t pretend to not be human in their appetites, in their capriciousness, and in their unreasonableness. They didn’t present themselves as being all-seeing, all-wise, all-kind, all-beneficent, because the God that created this universe, if it was created by God, is quite clearly a maniac… utter maniac, totally selfish.

We have to spend our life on our knees thanking him? What kind of god would do that?

Yes, the world is very splendid, but it also has in it insects whose whole life cycle is to burrow into the eyes of children and make them blind. They eat outwards from the eyes.

Why? Why did you do that to us? You could easily have made a creation in which that didn’t exist. It is simply not acceptable.

Atheism is not just about not believing there’s a god. On the assumption there is one, what kind of God is he? It’s perfectly apparent that was monstrous, utterly monstrous, and deserves no respect. The moment you banish him, your life becomes simpler, purer cleaner, more worth living in my opinion.

Byrne: That sure is the longest answer to that question I ever got in this entire series.

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112 Responses to What Stephen Fry Would Say To God

  1. 1
    mythago says:

    “On the assumption there is one, what kind of God is he?”

    The Christian god, apparently.

  2. 2
    closetpuritan says:

    I thought that was actually not a bad recovery from an initially Christian/monotheist-centric discussion, given that the interviewer started him off with “pearly gates”. But I guess in the final paragraph it does come back to monotheism. Though I’m not sure that self-interested gods would deserve respect or to not be thought of as monstrous, or that multiple gods who held themselves out as good while responsible for the world as it is would be any less deserving of condemnation than a single one.

  3. 3
    Ben Lehman says:

    I feel like his point was a non-omnipotent God could say “I did my best,” but it got a bit munged.

  4. 4
    Patrick says:

    A good answer. The initial question obviously isn’t sincere- it’s a put-down launched at an indirect angle. So throwing it back in the questioner’s face is appropriate.

  5. 5
    closetpuritan says:

    @Ben, true. I always kinda preferred the heretical-to-Christianity concept of a non-omnipotent Yahweh struggling with the devil and that being why there was evil in the world, as opposed to “because free will”. I notice that Fry chose examples where human free will could not be blamed, but I always found it an unsatisfying answer because we humans try not to just let people go around assaulting, abusing, or enslaving fellow human beings.

  6. 6
    mythago says:

    closetpuritan @2: Not just monotheism, but a particular variety of monotheism in which God is a single entity, male, and “all-seeing, all-wise, all-kind, all-beneficent”, in Fry’s terms. (Not that the question was any better.)

  7. 7
    Charles S says:

    mythago,

    The questioner is a Christian, and the question is explicitly framed in Christian terms (“the Pearly Gates”, which is a reference to Revelation), so it is no surprise he answers in Christian terms. Still, I had to think for a while and discuss it with Ben before I could see how his answer was Christian-specific rather than applicable to Christianity, Islam, or Judaism (or the other Abrahamic religions)., so I’m curious what is the striking Christian feature of it for you. [Cross posted, so I guess you answered that already]

    I’d assumed that Fry was raised Christian, but he was actually raised in a non-religious household and his mother is Jewish, so I don’t know to what extent he is Christian atheist (his Dad is presumably a Christian atheist and his general culture is very Christian, so his atheism is probably mixed).

    I took Fry’s muddled point about the Greek Gods to be that the Greek Gods don’t claim to be omni-benevolent, so giving children bone cancer doesn’t contradict what they claim to be.

  8. 8
    mythago says:

    I took Fry’s muddled point about the Greek Gods to be that the Greek Gods don’t claim to be omni-benevolent, so giving children bone cancer doesn’t contradict what they claim to be.

    Which makes his point even more muddled. “Oh, you guys are a bunch of petulant murderers and rapists who insisted on tribute, but I guess that’s OK because you didn’t say you were benevolent”?

  9. 9
    Mandolin says:

    It’s galling when the Pope, who claims to be an ultimate authority figure on morality, does something immoral. It’s galling when an omnipotent, omni-benevolent God doesn’t seem to give a damn about suffering.

    It’s still horrific to imagine Hades (or whoever would be salient Greek god) saying “eh, I felt like making a plague that day, fuck humans” but it’s not the same kind of hypocrisy.

    If Christians who believe in an omnipotent God were like, “yeah, he can be kind of a douche, see also: childhood osteosarcoma, but he also has utter control over us, so it’s best to shut up and worship” then at least it wouldn’t evoke the same “well, YOU’RE in denial” reaction from me as when they say “no, he’s really super omni-benevolent, what bone cancer in children? lalalalala.”

  10. 10
    Mandolin says:

    (Yes, I know there was at least some historical traction to the idea that the Christian God was a jerk, but worship him anyway, because he has the cosmological equivalent of really big guns. But I don’t think that is the current theological position of most American Christians.)

  11. 11
    Charles S says:

    When I posted that, I deleted an additional bit talking about how atheists often have weird sympathetic feelings for the Gods of other religions, particularly for ones very different than the God you don’t believe in. My most memorable experience of this was having my fondness for syncretism (as a Christian atheist) met with revulsion by a Hindu atheist, who hated syncretism as so much marketing bullshit (since Hinduism is highly syncretist). I think a large part of Fry’s feeling okay with the Greek Gods is that he has never been asked to believe in them, that no one actually worships them now, that they are just characters in stories. Characters in stories who give children bone cancer are different than actual people who give children bone cancer, and Byrne’s question presumes that God is an actual person, and when Fry imagines the Greek Gods being actual people (in his response), I think his reaction to them is still tempered by not having people constantly trying to get him to do that (and insisting that they are the most admirable people at the same time).

  12. 12
    Charles S says:

    Apollo looks to be the god who handles disease (both as protector and as inflictor), and actually, I kind of imagine Apollo as being a colossal asshole in a way where if you met him (and didn’t fear being turned into a plant or flayed alive or cursed with being never believed or any of the other things he does to people who piss him off) you might challenge him as Fry imagines challenging God.

  13. 13
    Harlequin says:

    I don’t mean this to be a derail, and I’m happy to be shunted over to the open thread if this is too off-topic, but I’m struck by this concept:

    My most memorable experience of this was having my fondness for syncretism (as a Christian atheist) met with revulsion by a Hindu atheist, who hated syncretism as so much marketing bullshit (since Hinduism is highly syncretist).

    I can see that categorizing atheists by the religion they gave up can have some uses–obviously, as this is an example of them!–but I had not seen that done previously. Is that just about being raised in a religion, or about the religion that was dominant around you when you were growing up, or…?

    Um, I guess, for reference, I am also an atheist, but one who grew up in a mostly nonreligious household–my parents are of two different religions, but neither has practiced during my lifetime, nor did they try to pass their beliefs to me. Honestly, I find most discussions of religion kind of boring, except inasmuch as they help me figure out how other people’s brains work, which is a thing I always enjoy. (Not trying to be, um, unholier-than-thou there, just trying to explain the perspective I’m coming from, that this was a new concept to me.)

  14. 14
    Charles S says:

    I’m actually a third generation atheist (at least), but I was raised in a Christian culture and my family celebrated Christian holidays (secularly, but we did Easter egg hunts and exchanged Christmas presents and had a creche (that we would often arrange with the donkey at the center and the baby jesus on the roof or off to the side), and talk about the relationship between our celebration of those holidays and the religious nature of those holidays)). The main idea of God that I encountered as a child was the Christian god. My patrilineal great grandfather (also an atheist) used to harass the local Christian minister (long before I was born, but I was told stories of this).

    I have a friend who renounced Mormonism in college and became an atheist specifically because the doctrines of the church failed him which, for him, disproved the existence of the Mormon idea of God. He doesn’t particularly care about being atheist towards other ideas of God, since they are not the idea of God he ever believed in.

    In general, I think that people who are atheists don’t believe in the idea of God that they are most familiar with, which is short-handed by calling them atheists of a particularly religion. However, I think this is fairly ideosyncratic language. Wikipedia says that “Christian atheist” means someone who rejects the theology of Christianity but follows the moral teachings of Jesus, which is definitely not what I mean.

  15. 15
    Charles S says:

    Both the Fry rant and the question of Christian (or any other religion’s) atheism makes me think of the exchange about what God two characters don’t believe in in Catch-22 (like all of Catch-22, the passage is kind-of sexist).

    “But the God I don’t believe in is a good God, a just God, a merciful God. He’s not the mean and stupid God you make Him out to be.”

  16. 16
    mythago says:

    @Charles S: I think you very neatly put your finger on what was bothering me about the back and forth; it’s a particular sort of cultural chauvinist atheism that sees all other religions except one’s own tradition as ‘less real’, and therefore less worthy of scorn because who cares, they’re not important or meaningful anyway.

  17. 17
    gin-and-whiskey says:

    I think that a lot of atheists generally oppose belief in irrational unprovable things, and generally oppose belief in god(s). It’s just that in many cases (since religion is not always obvious) they recognize their own traditions being expressed more easily. I suspect I can pick out markers of Judaism better than someone who didn’t grow up Jewish; I suspect I am not so good at picking up Hindu markers. And since religion tends to have concentrations of practitioners, they also are likely to encounter their own traditions more frequently (most people don’t move that far from home.)

    I’m more than happy to scorn any number of religions ;) but I tend to focus on the ones which I actually notice. If I moved to a different country my focus would probably change.

  18. 18
    Myca says:

    I do think there’s something there about the difference between living under tyranny and living under tyranny which insists that you must love it. Not that, given my druthers, I’d choose either, of course.

    —Myca

  19. 19
    Mandolin says:

    I do think there’s something there about the difference between living under tyranny and living under tyranny which insists that you must love it. Not that, given my druthers, I’d choose either, of course.

    YES.

    And also, I, at least, live in a culture where there is social pressure to believe in what must by honest assessment be a tyrant and to consider it lovable.

    I don’t think it’s in the least confusing what Fry was trying to do, and that he was speaking as part of a dominantly Christian culture. And I think claims of “oh, atheists, they think other religions are ok” are a bit silly to apply to Greek gods in whom, as someone above has mentioned, no one (that I know of?) believes anymore. That’s really different from romanticism or exoticism of living religions.

    I am not an atheist of a particular religion, thanks. I do not believe in a god or gods. I think it’s all silly. And as long as it’s fun and silly and doesn’t involve oppressing people, by all means, please entertain yourselves.

    But I live in a dominantly Christian culture. It’s not the followers of Greek gods who are trying to impose restrictions on my life. For that matter, it’s generally not Muslims, either. Jews a bit, I guess, but mostly only as subsumed by a version of Judeochristianity that basically sees Jews as Christians Lite. I resent the implication that there’s something wrong with me because my primary response is to the ocean I’m swimming in as an American atheist.

    I object to plenty of international manifestations of women’s oppression. But as an American, the ones I am most qualified to talk about, and the ones that directly affect me, are the American ones. The only people who seem to have a problem with that are the ones who want to stifle conversation about American feminism (but ladies in Saudi Arabia have it worse!).

    It’s disingenuous to pretend that Fry wasn’t answering the question in a specific context that was understandable to USians and UKians who watched the video.

  20. 20
    Mandolin says:

    And Apollo’s totally an asshole, for the record. They pretty much all are. Maybe not Demeter, Hestia, maybe Hephaestus? But I might just not be remembering all the myths.

  21. 21
    mythago says:

    Yes, Mandolin, I am aware that he was answering it within a particular Christian viewpoint. That’s kind of what I was discussing. If you want to keep calling me a liar for doing so, well, you do you, as the kids say.

  22. 22
    Charles S says:

    mythago,

    I’m not sure where you think Mandolin called you a liar, so that’s a little weird as a response.

  23. 23
    Tamme says:

    Labelling atheists as “Christian atheists” or “Muslim atheists” or “Hindu atheists” seems pretty dubious and fairly disrespectful to atheists. It sounds like you’re not really taking their beliefs seriously by appending a prefix that effecticely negates them. Imagine calling somebody a “cis transgender” or a “straight homosexual”.

    I get the distinction you’re trying to make, but calling somebody a “Christian atheist” because they grew up in a culture that is culturally dominated by christianity makes about as much sense as calling Mos Def a “Christian muslim”.

    What would you call an atheist who grew up in an atheist family and a country where the dominant approach to religion was atheism? An Atheist atheist?

    I take your point about a lot of atheists being narrowly oriented towards a certain religion or set of religions, and making assumptions based on that that may or may not be correct. Fry’s belief that worship of the Greek gods is relatively harmless is a good example of that. But I think there has to be a way to discuss this that doesn’t involve applying a label to atheists that negates their self-identity as atheists.

  24. 24
    JutGory says:

    I find Fry’s hubris absolutely astounding, but not terribly uncommon.

    Two more comments: one biblical, one not.

    Where the fuck was he when the world was created?

    He is like the Mona Lisa complaining to da Vinci that she would be better with short hair, or David complaining that Michaelangelo made his penis small, or any Picasso figure complaining about how disfigured they are (the Dali people are so tormented that they don’t complain at all).

    I get that some people don’t believe in God, but, assuming there is one, I would bet that a better job was done than would have been done by Fry.

    I think he makes atheists look a little silly. It is as if, upon finding out he was wrong about his world view, he would just bitch and moan about the world, completely unable to step outside of his own puny mind-set and come to grips with reality.

    (Okay, I guess that turned out to be more than two comments.)

    -Jut

  25. 25
    Diatryma says:

    I didn’t have trouble understanding Fry’s answer, but it’s similar to how I approach the Christian God vs multiple gods. If the God I was told I had to believe in in high school did everything my high school friends said he did, then he did a lousy job and/or screwed everything up on purpose. If there’s no omnipotent, omniscient, omnibenevolent force dictating how the world will be, then the world is miraculous. Because the other option for a world is a rock. In a world where nothing has to happen, metabolism and ATP synthase and chloroplasts and sea lions and cats and eyes and language and community and computers are miracles.

    Fry is saying, to some extent, three-omni God –> world is failed Eden, what gives; no three-omni God –> world is a really awesome miraculous event that could have been a rock but isn’t, A++ work.

    (And I do know a follower of Athena, actually, and one follower of at least one Norse god.)

  26. 26
    Jake Squid says:

    Where the fuck was he when the world was created?

    By this logic, you have no idea whether your grandfather was born or, perhaps, spontaneously generated from table scraps. I find it a less than convincing objection.

  27. 27
    Myca says:

    Where the fuck was he when the world was created?

    I’m sure that there are worse responses to The Problem of Evil, but it’s hard to imagine them.

    Your response is essentially, “Who are you to question God?” It’s a vapid, morally bankrupt appeal to authority, and it’s an attempt to dodge the question.

    “Dad, you say you weren’t drinking last night, but I found you passed out on the floor, you stink of beer, there are empty beer bottles everywhere, and you’ve pissed yourself.”
    “Who the fuck are you to call me a liar?! I’m your fucking father!”

    That’s … less than persuasive.

    I can hardly blame you, though. In my experience, there really is no good response to The Problem of Evil, which is why it’s so persuasive. So at least you’re in good company.

    —Myca

  28. 28
    Patrick says:

    I think JutGory is offering more of the Book of Job response- you didn’t create the world, you worm, so how dare you question me. It’s not like you could do better.

    It’s a silly answer if you believe that God is literally perfect. But whatevs, the question wasn’t a real question anyway, it was a put down- so you can’t expect the conversation to stay on topic if you give a real answer.

    The fun thing about the “what if you’re wrong?” question is that the moment you actually answer it, the people propounding it have to either back off, or reveal how utterly disingenuous they were in asking the question.

    Look, here’s how this question actually works, using a different topic as an example:

    Joe- I think we should enact universal healthcare.
    Bob- I don’t think we can afford it.
    Joe- I do. Also, universal healthcare is passing Congress right now.
    Bob- It’s going to lead to disaster.
    Joe- I disagree.
    Bob- Assume, for the sake of argument, that it DOES lead to financial ruin.
    Joe- It won’t, but ok?
    Bob- How will you feel THEN? What will you say THEN? How will you explain yourself THEN?
    Joe- I guess I’d feel pretty stupid.
    Bob- Yeah! You would! Stupid! That’s how you’ll feel!

    That’s all that’s going on. It’s disingenuous, so the best answer is always to answer with an on topic, but challenging, response. Force the person to debate the question they didn’t actually care about, or abandon the field, or to discredit themselves by resorting to the insults that were underlying the argument in the first place.

  29. 29
    JutGory says:

    Jake Squid @26:

    I find it a less than convincing objection.

    You did get the reference though, I presume. If so, your response seems to miss the point.

    -Jut

  30. 30
    Jake Squid says:

    You did get the reference though, I presume.

    Nope. Flew right over my head. Even finding out that I missed the reference, I still have no idea what the reference is. That would explain why my response misses the point.

  31. 31
    Ampersand says:

    Jake, the reference is to The Book Of Job in the Bible. It’s what God tells Job when Job wants to know why all Job’s children died, etc – “where were you when I created the Earth?”

  32. 32
    Myca says:

    You did get the reference though, I presume.

    Oh god. Is it a Book of Job reference? Referencing the Book of Job in arguing against the Problem of Evil is like referencing your blown breathalyzer test in arguing against your DUI.

    —Myca

  33. 33
    Jake Squid says:

    You’ll have to forgive me for missing the reference. It’s been at least 35 years since I last read it. So, although I still remember the story, I don’t remember any actual verse as written.

    Knowing what the reference is, I’ll defer to Myca for the correct response. It pretty much backs up Fry’s take of the posited god as a monster who demands your fear since it’s too terrifying to ever get your love.

  34. 34
    Lee1 says:

    I find Fry’s hubris absolutely astounding, but not terribly uncommon.

    It’s hubris to expect that an all-knowing, all-powerful, all-loving God would create a universe that doesn’t include huge amounts of suffering that’s totally unconnected to any moral acts by the person undergoing the suffering? To me that seems like basic common sense. The thing about da Vinci, Michaelangelo, and Picasso? They weren’t all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-loving. You know who supposedly is? The Christian God.

    I think he makes atheists look a little silly.

    I think he’s just doing a pretty good job of pointing out what makes certain theists look a lot silly.

  35. 35
    Daran says:

    Jutgory

    Undoubtedly the most incompetent politician in the land is doing a better job than I could. Does that mean I have no business criticising incompetent politicians?

  36. 36
    JutGory says:

    Jake Squid: no biggie; it is about the only line I remember from Job.
    And, Daran, don’t sell yourself short.

    No time to respond in detail right now, but I can think of two nerd allusions that may help make my point.

    In Fantastic Four #262, Reed Richards was put on trial for saving Galactus, who went on to detroy the Skrull homeworld. He was acquitted when it was considered that Reed could not be held responsible for Galactus actions when Galactus was more of a force of nature and could not be deemed culpable (something like that; it has been a long time).

    Or, there is that Star Trek Next Generation episode where they find that couple living on a planet all by themselves and this big ship keeps chasing the enterprise away and detsroying the couple (only to have them re-appear again). Eventually, Picard discovers that the man was not really a man but some other sort of being who was living out his life in isolation after commiting genocide of his enemies out of anger (kind of reminds me of the 10th Plague of Egypt). Picard concludes he has no proper yardstick with which to judge the actions of such a being and leaves him in peace.

    So, argue with me and you are arguing with the likes of John Byrne and Brannon Braga.

    -Jut

  37. 37
    nobody.really says:

    I, at least, live in a culture where there is social pressure to believe in what must by honest assessment be a tyrant and to consider it lovable.

    Stockholm Syndrome?

  38. 38
    nobody.really says:

    Last I recall, there are a variety of responses to the Problem of Evil. Here are three:

    1) God is not omnipotent. Eli Weisel favored this conclusion.

    A) I sense this was the primary appeal of having multiple gods: You can explain any outcome as a result of the conflicting wills of rivalrous gods. Thus, it makes sense to seek the favor of the gods, even if this did not guarantee a good outcome for you.

    B) Similarly, even within monotheism, people embrace the God vs. Satan narrative.

    The human mind seems to be hard-wired for narrative – that is, a particular kind of account that has a beginning, middle, and end, in which some obstacle is overcome or some question resolved. Superman stories would be pretty dull if Superman could actually accomplish whatever he wanted to, effortlessly. Thus, the authors must constantly create obstacles for Superman to overcome: rival superheroes, krypton, etc. Similarly, our minds crave a story about god that requires some kind of obstacle – even though this conflicts with the idea of an all-powerful, all-knowing god.

    2) Best of All Possible Worlds. Yes, god is all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good. Thus, so is the world. Our failure to appreciate that we live in the best of all possible worlds merely reflects the limitations of our perspective. We are merely like children complaining about not being able to eat ice cream instead of spinach, not understanding the consequences that would befall if we got what we claim we wanted.

    But wait: Couldn’t an all-powerful god make spinach taste like ice cream? The rejoinder is, basically, how can we know? Even an all-powerful god may find himself constrained by logic and necessity – and somehow, embedded deep within the structures of reality beyond our comprehension is the reason that spinach must taste like spinach. Sure, there may be possible worlds in which spinach tastes like ice cream – but this change necessarily entails other changes that would, in aggregate, render a less desirable world.

    Allegedly the Black Plague wiped out 25-33% of Europe – an unimaginable catastrophe. It also created 1) a consolidation of wealth in the hands of the survivors, and 2) a huge labor shortage. Allegedly both factors strengthened the social position of peasants relative to nobles, leading to beneficial social innovations. Would the world have been better in the absence of the plague?

    There are myriad literary examples illustrating these unanticipated connections.

    Consider Philip K. Dick’s short story (and later, movie), Paycheck: A guy finds himself in terrible circumstances relative to what he expected. And he knows that the person who put him into these circumstances is himself during a period about which he no longer has any memory, but also a period when he could foresee the future. Should he conclude that his past self was evil? Or that his past self really acted for the benefit of his current self, but in ways the current self cannot appreciate due to a lack of perspective? As you might expect, all the circumstances that he regards as terrible later prove to be necessary to enable him to survive.

    Consider various parallel universe stories: George Bailey’s life has come to naught; obviously it would have been better had he never been born, right? A parallel life demonstrates the opposite. Obviously it would be better if Dr. McCoy saves his lover from being killed by that car, right? Only in a parallel timeline do we learn that if he had saved her, she would have promoted pacifist policies that would have let the Nazis conquer the earth. In short, things that seem sub-optimal from our perspective may seem optimal from a larger perspective.

    There’s the old joke about a prince and his aide who responds “It is good” to all circumstances. The prince asks the aide to join him in his hunting party. “It is good.” But when the aide hands the prince his gun it discharges, severing the prince’s finger. In fury, the prince orders the aide imprisoned. “It is good.” Later, the prince and his hunting party are captured by cannibals who eat whole-bodied individuals, but have learned to release any prey that has a physical flaw – such as a missing finger. The prince, the only survivor of his party, returns to his palace and orders his aide released from prison. “I’m so sorry to have punished you! You merely made an honest error – and, in fact, it ended up saving my life!” “It is good,” says the aide. “How can false imprisonment be good?” “If you hadn’t imprisoned me, I would have been captured with you!”

    I find no logical flaw in the Best of All Possible Worlds answer to the Problem of Evil. I do find, however, a severe emotional flaw: It leads to an abdication of all judgment. The Holocaust? Hey, who can say if the world really would have been better without it? And even if it had turned out better today, who can say what the consequences would have been for tomorrow? As a world view, this is simply rationalization run amok.

    3) Iterative world. Some theologies suggest that god experiences all possible worlds from all possible perspectives. Thus, the fact that we experience evil has no special meaning, because in myriad parallel universes the particular evil we experience does NOT obtain (although others may).

    So, when I’m put on the witness stand to testify why I killed you, I could say, “I did it because it was my destiny within this iteration of the world. Rest assured in other permutations, I refrain from pulling the trigger – and rather, it will be you, members of the jury, who will be standing here in judgment. But that is no reason to show me mercy. For indeed, how each member of the jury votes will also be a manifestation of this destiny. Again, rest assured, you vote to acquit me – and to condemn me. And in the grand scheme of things, whether this specific iteration is the one in which you vote for acquittal or for condemnation is of no consequence.”

  39. 39
    Myca says:

    nobody.really:

    When faced with a claim of an:

    1) All-good
    2) All-powerful
    3) All-knowing

    God, in whose creation evil and suffering still thrive, it it possible to solve the problem by denying one of the premises, yes.

    So you can say:

    1A) “God is not all-Good. He knows we’re suffering, but doesn’t care.”
    2A) “God is not all-powerful.” He does his best, but there are some external constraints, and he can’t do everything.
    3A) “God is not all seeing. He fixes what he’s aware of, but he misses some stuff.”

    All three of your responses in comment #38 fall under the 2A category.

    Your first states it explicitly.

    Your second sneaks it in through a backdoor. When you say:

    But wait: Couldn’t an all-powerful god make spinach taste like ice cream? The rejoinder is, basically, how can we know? Even an all-powerful god may find himself constrained by logic and necessity – and somehow, embedded deep within the structures of reality beyond our comprehension is the reason that spinach must taste like spinach. Sure, there may be possible worlds in which spinach tastes like ice cream – but this change necessarily entails other changes that would, in aggregate, render a less desirable world.

    The answer, the proper answer, the only answer is, “then he’s not omnipotent.” Remember, he created everything. He wrote the rules. If there are external constraints, then he is not omnipotent. If “this change necessarily entails other changes” then he is not omnipotent. If he is omnipotent except he must follow the rules of logic, then he is not omnipotent (and we need to ask why the rules of logic are so important when it comes to preventing children from dying in typhoons, but illogical magic powers are a-ok).

    Your third response actually falls under a couple of different possible categories. Even in a many-worlds theory, an omnipotent God could make them all perfect (because that’s what omnipotent means), but maybe he’s okay with letting all the worlds play out for some reason – then he’s not all-good. An omnipotent God wouldn’t need to adhere to the ‘many-worlds’ theory. He could just create the good one.

    Now, a lot of people have tried to solve this by resorting to a kind of. “Well, he’s sorta-omnipotent. I mean, he’s real real powerful, but there are limits.” Then (of course) he’s not omnipotent, but also, we’d need to know where these limits came from. What constrains God that was not created by God?

    —Myca

  40. 40
    nobody.really says:

    Myca @ 39:

    1. I do not understand the initial question to focus exclusively on a world with an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-benevolent god.

    2. That said, you accurately characterize my arguments. The first one rejects all-powerful outright. The third argument renders questions of god’s power and benevolence moot. And the second argument acknowledges that god is constrained by possibility or logic.

    But, to me, this prompts the question, what does omnipotent mean? Because we might short-circuit this entire discussion with the conclusion that omnipotence is a self-contradictory concept. Can an omnipotent god create a rock so heavy that even she cannot lift it? Either way you answer the question suggests a lack of omnipotence. Thus, there is no way to reconcile the existence of an all-powerful god with this world — or with ANY world.

    But I would offer two rejoinders.

    First, perhaps the relevant definition of omnipotent is the one embraced by people who claim that god is omnipotent. Would people really regard god as unworthy of admiration if they concluded that there is no possible world in which logic does not obtain, and thus god must operate within the bounds of logic?

    Second, if we conclude that god is not constrained by logic, then we end up in some challenging territory:

    Remember, he created everything. He wrote the rules. If there are external constraints, then he is not omnipotent.

    How do you reach such a conclusion (or any conclusion) in the absence of logic? Perhaps god is omnipotent, and not omnipotent, and both, and neither, plus Pi numbers of alternative we haven’t considered, and not. In short, once you conclude that god operates outside the realm of logic, I think all arguments about god pretty much collapse.

  41. 41
    Myca says:

    1. I do not understand the initial question to focus exclusively on a world with an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-benevolent god.

    I use that definition since it is the traditional Christian definition of the characteristics of God. The same may apply to Jewish or Muslim God-concepts – I wouldn’t be surprised. I’d doubt it applies to Hindu or Greek/Roman/Norse polytheistic God-concepts.

    Would people really regard god as unworthy of admiration if they concluded that there is no possible world in which logic does not obtain, and thus god must operate within the bounds of logic?

    No, I’m sure they would still find him plenty admirable – but admiration is not my goal here. There are specific theological claims I’m discussing, and if they want to concede that God is not omnipotent, we can have that conversation then.

    How do you reach such a conclusion (or any conclusion) in the absence of logic?

    That an omnipotent God need not be constrained by logic does not mean that we aren’t.

    I mean, we certainly can say “it doesn’t have to make sense,” or go JutGory’s route of saying in essence “God is good, and if it looks like he’s not you’re wrong,” but then why bother worshiping or thinking about him? At that point he’s indistinguishable from the devil or some sort of unknowable gibbering monster.

    The whole discussion is premised on the idea that he has certain characteristics, expressed in human terms. If we want to say, “God is good, and when he tortures babies, then torturing babies is good,” then why bother using the term ‘good’ at all? After all, if we’re just going to say that whatever is “done by God” falls under the banner “good” whether it makes sense or not, why ruin the word ‘good?’ Why not just say “God is florb,” and have done with it?

    —Myca

  42. 42
    Mandolin says:

    I was grumping last night about the Job story.

    Theoretically, I could make a bet with a sociopath that if I torture one of my pet cats, it will still love me. Then perhaps, if I torture the cat, it will still love me. That might prove it has desirable traits for a pet cat (SERIOUSLY DEBATABLE), but what it also proves is that I’m a loathsome asshole.

    If god isn’t omniscient, omnipotent and omnibenevolent, I’m much more willing to hear excuses. Tho I’m not sure what excuses “hey, I set up a plan where I’m going to torture people eternally.”

    In my experience of Jewish tradition, it is *not* assumed that God is those things. Which makes it less suffocating for me. But that may be the flipside of the “special allowances for religions you’re not familiar with”; there are lots of cultural ways in which I am guided by the family’s history of Judaism, and thus find Judaism easier to deal with. At least, the forms of Judaism I am most familiar with.

  43. 43
    Mandolin says:

    For the record, after some twitter conversation last night, someone told me that most thinking theists take the story of Job non-literally, that it’s not about God really being all like “I am going to torture you for no reason” but it’s about dealing with life and hardship via patience. I don’t object to that interpretation per se. But the literal one bugs me out.

  44. 44
    HeelBearCub says:

    To the question, “Can an omnipotent God create a rock so heavy he cannot lift it?” I would answer, “Yes, God can create the rock. It will be so heavy that he cannot lift it. And then God will lift it.”

    When faced with a logically impossible question, you can give a logically impossible answer. It’s just as valid as any other answer, but it’s more satisfying.

  45. 45
    nobody.really says:

    Would people really regard god as unworthy of admiration if they concluded that there is no possible world in which logic does not obtain, and thus god must operate within the bounds of logic?

    No, I’m sure they would still find him plenty admirable – but admiration is not my goal here. There are specific theological claims I’m discussing, and if they want to concede that God is not omnipotent, we can have that conversation then.

    So you say. But as far as I can tell, these are not specific theological claims. These are vague theological claims made by unspecified parties. If we had a specific claim by a specific party, we might then ask the party what they meant by the word “omnipotent.” In the absence of a specific party, you’re left to define the terms of an argument you already acknowledge you find unpersuasive. I don’t find this style of argumentation very compelling.

    How do you reach such a conclusion (or any conclusion) in the absence of logic?

    I mean, we certainly can say “it doesn’t have to make sense,” or go JutGory’s route of saying in essence “God is good, and if it looks like he’s not you’re wrong,” but then why bother worshiping or thinking about him? At that point he’s indistinguishable from the devil or some sort of unknowable gibbering monster.

    First you argue that an omnipotent god cannot be constrained by logic. Then you argue that such a god is beyond human evaluation because, by your definition, he doesn’t make sense. While I can’t fault your conclusion, I humbly observe that the problem may not lie with god, but with your insistence on one specific definition of omnipotence.

    The whole discussion is premised on the idea that he has certain characteristics, expressed in human terms. If we want to say, “God is good, and when he tortures babies, then torturing babies is good,” then why bother using the term ‘good’ at all? After all, if we’re just going to say that whatever is “done by God” falls under the banner “good” whether it makes sense or not, why ruin the word ‘good?’ Why not just say “God is florb,” and have done with it?

    This gets to the heart of the issue: What does “good” mean?

    I refer back to the prior examples of parallel universes. Surely it is good to save Dr. McCoy’s lover from being killed in a car crash? But if this leads to Nazi’s conquering the earth, does that alter your conclusion?

    Perhaps not. Some ethical systems focus on means, not ends. E.g., “Tell the truth, though the heavens fall.” If you subscribe to such a system, then you have a firmer grasp of how to “do good.” In contrast, people who care about ends live in a trickier world.

    But is there really such a contrast? I surmise that people who embrace the “means, not ends” school of ethics really do care about ends, but conclude that for practical or supernatural reasons, a rigorous practice of using the prescribed means will produce the best ends in the long run. I surmise that those who embrace the supernatural version conclude that god, in her foresight, is better able to anticipate the results of human behavior than humans are. That is, even if we all agree on what “good” means, god’s inscrutable plan may better achieve that goal than our own scrutable plans.

  46. 46
    Patrick says:

    Mandolin- the non literal reading of Job is atrocious though. It ignores everything from Job 2:11 to 42:7. The popular non literal misreading of the Book of Job is one of Christianity’s least excusable intellectual sins.

    “Thinking theists” my foot. You don’t get to be a “thinking theist” while utterly mangling a book of the Bible, ignoring the OVERWHELMING majority of it’s text, and “finding” a moral that is the literal inverse of the actual moral of the story.

  47. An interesting book that deals with some of these questions: The Terror of God, by Navid Kermani.

  48. 48
    closetpuritan says:

    nobody.really: In addition to being emotionally unsatisfying, the “best of all possible worlds” idea is just really unbelievable to me given the amount of evil in the world. I’m with Voltaire on this one.

    Someone could respond with “Well, you don’t have godlike omniscience, and maybe you’re just wrong because of your human perspective.” But everyone else has a human perspective, too, and they’re not saying that because they know something I don’t; they have exactly as much information with which to determine whether that’s plausible as I do.

  49. 49
    Mandolin says:

    Patrick — I think the person in question would say that parts of the bible are just bullshit. (She wasn’t Christian.)

  50. 50
    Patrick says:

    *shrugs* Then the people on who’s behalf she was speaking are the problem.

    Job is a story with a beginning, middle, end, and with a theme. The popular interpretation reads the beginning, ignores the middle and end, pays attention to the denouement, and derives a “theme” that is actually articulated in the story- by someone who God threatens to murder for being a fool because he believed the “theme” from the popular interpretation.

  51. 51
    Ampersand says:

    I’ve never even heard of the non-literal reading of Job before! I’ve just heard of the literal one.

    In my 20s, one of my favorite plays was “J.B.”, a parody of sorts of the Book of Job. I’m curious; anyone else here know that one?

  52. I read J.B. years and years ago, but I confess I don’t remember it at all.

  53. 53
    Patrick says:

    What we’re calling the non literal reading is very popular. In churches. I’m surprised you haven’t heard it, in my experience, familiarity with the actual text is vanishingly small, and relegated entirely to heretical play-writes and novelists. Maybe those are read this blog.

    The Book of Job is one of the reasons that I am very skeptical of people who claim to have found, after much searching, modern-compatible readings of religious texts that on face value endorse the morals of their times. I’ve spent a lot of time with enlightened readings of Christian texts that, upon examination, must have involved willful dishonesty at some point along the communicative chain.

  54. 54
    Charles S says:

    I assume that a non-literal reading of Job is one that treats the Book of Job as an allegory, rather than as a recounting of an historical event? That doesn’t seem like it ignores any of the text.

  55. 55
    Ampersand says:

    I’m actually a big fan of people who find ways to interpret religious texts in order to make them kinder and more humanistic. In some many cases we’re all better off if the strict letter of the text is tortured into a different shape.

  56. 56
    nobody.really says:

    The Book of Job is one of the reasons that I am very skeptical of people who claim to have found, after much searching, modern-compatible readings of religious texts that on face value endorse the morals of their times. I’ve spent a lot of time with enlightened readings of Christian texts that, upon examination, must have involved willful dishonesty at some point along the communicative chain.

    As Mark Twain (allegedly) remarked, “It ain’t those parts of the Bible that I can’t understand that bother me, it’s the parts that I do understand.”

  57. 57
    Susan says:

    This discussion reminds me somewhat of some we had in the dorms, late at night, at university. In fact I’m almost sure this is actually a transcript of one of those discussions. The reason I’m only almost sure is that back then I might have had one beer more than was good for me.

    This is not at all to invalidate those discussions (or this one). They were and are valid and valuable. It is just that from where I stand right now, a theist who has been down the road a few times, the whole approach seems vaguely irrelevant to the considerations of meaning that come to me when I look up into the stars on a clear night, or into the eyes of a horse, or into a mirror. Not invalid, those discussions. Just somehow not big enough.

  58. 58
    Patrick says:

    Charles S- The non literal reading under discussion claims that the point of Job is basically this: God sent Job a bunch of trials, but Job endured them with piety and a good spirit. So God rewarded Job in the end. Like Job, we should accept the trials God sends us without growing angry at God, and rest assured that reward awaits, if not in this world, then in the next.

    That’s hands down the most ignorant reading one could possibly craft of the Book of Job. What actually happens is that God sends Job a bunch of horrible disasters, and Job declares, “I don’t deserve this. I am righteous and do not deserve to be punished.” His friends gather around him and try to convince him that God is punishing him for unrighteousness, and that he should repent. They believe that God sends punishments to the wicked, and reward to the righteous, and this explains Job’s problems. Job refuses to repent on the grounds that he knows he has done nothing wrong. Eventually even his friends become disgusted and abandon him, because they believe he is not just a sinner who has sinned so deeply as to incur the direct wrath of God Almighty, he is an unrepentant sinner who pridefully insists on his own righteousness. Job persists, and eventually challenges God, accusing God of being unable to see the world as Job does, and unable to care about Job’s suffering. He states, contra his friends, that God sends rewards to the wicked, misery to the righteous, and that there is no justice, only arbitrary fortune. God shows up in a rage, and screams at Job for daring to question him. God lists his own mighty attributes, and tells Job that given God’s incredible power and Job’s incredibly smallness, Job has no right to question God. Job apologizes for acting above his station. God then states that he forgives Job, because at least Job spoke truthfully about God. God alludes that he would punish Job’s friends for speaking falsely about God, but for Job’s sake he will spare them if they make appropriate offerings. This refers to the only issue on which Job and his friends spoke- Job’s belief in the arbitrariness of divine reward, and his friend’s belief that God rewards the righteous.

    Finally, in a weirdly out of place bit that some scholars think is a later addition designed to ameliorate the harshness of the narrative, God also gives Job new stuff (and children, because children are interchangeable chattel) to make up for all the old stuff that got destroyed. This doesn’t quite fit the story since God just told Job that Job was right about fate being unconnected to righteousness, so it’s a little strange that God would reward him for speaking truth, but it’s how the story ends.

    The “non literal” reading focuses on the trials of Job at the beginning, skips over the conversations with the friends even though that’s the majority of the book, skips over the conversation between God and Job even though that’s the second largest portion of the book, and then includes the epilogue.

    I hates it, I do.

    1 “I loathe my very life;
    therefore I will give free rein to my complaint
    and speak out in the bitterness of my soul.
    2 I say to God: Do not declare me guilty,
    but tell me what charges you have against me.
    3 Does it please you to oppress me,
    to spurn the work of your hands,
    while you smile on the plans of the wicked?
    4 Do you have eyes of flesh?
    Do you see as a mortal sees?
    5 Are your days like those of a mortal
    or your years like those of a strong man,
    6 that you must search out my faults
    and probe after my sin—
    7 though you know that I am not guilty
    and that no one can rescue me from your hand?

    8 “Your hands shaped me and made me.
    Will you now turn and destroy me?
    9 Remember that you molded me like clay.
    Will you now turn me to dust again?
    10 Did you not pour me out like milk
    and curdle me like cheese,
    11 clothe me with skin and flesh
    and knit me together with bones and sinews?
    12 You gave me life and showed me kindness,
    and in your providence watched over my spirit.
    13 “But this is what you concealed in your heart,
    and I know that this was in your mind:
    14 If I sinned, you would be watching me
    and would not let my offense go unpunished.
    15 If I am guilty—woe to me!
    Even if I am innocent, I cannot lift my head,
    for I am full of shame
    and drowned in[a] my affliction.

    16 If I hold my head high, you stalk me like a lion
    and again display your awesome power against me.
    17 You bring new witnesses against me
    and increase your anger toward me;
    your forces come against me wave upon wave.
    18 “Why then did you bring me out of the womb?
    I wish I had died before any eye saw me.
    19 If only I had never come into being,
    or had been carried straight from the womb to the grave!
    20 Are not my few days almost over?
    Turn away from me so I can have a moment’s joy
    21 before I go to the place of no return,
    to the land of gloom and utter darkness,
    22 to the land of deepest night,
    of utter darkness and disorder,
    where even the light is like darkness.”

    Job indicts God. This is but a part of it. God never denies the indictment, and in fact proclaims that Job spoke truth.

    2 “Who is this that obscures my plans
    with words without knowledge?
    3 Brace yourself like a man;
    I will question you,
    and you shall answer me.
    4 “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?
    Tell me, if you understand.
    5 Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
    Who stretched a measuring line across it?
    6 On what were its footings set,
    or who laid its cornerstone—
    7 while the morning stars sang together
    and all the angels[a] shouted for joy?

    this goes on for a while

    31 “Can you bind the chains[b] of the Pleiades?
    Can you loosen Orion’s belt?
    32 Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons[c]
    or lead out the Bear[d] with its cubs?
    33 Do you know the laws of the heavens?
    Can you set up God’s[e] dominion over the earth?

    and on and on, skipping significantly ahead

    40 The Lord said to Job:

    2 “Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him?
    Let him who accuses God answer him!
    3 Then Job answered the Lord:

    4 “I am unworthy—how can I reply to you?
    I put my hand over my mouth.
    5 I spoke once, but I have no answer—
    twice, but I will say no more.”

    God goes back to listing his accomplishments, and Job’s unworthiness to challenge him.

    41 [a]“Can you pull in Leviathan with a fishhook
    or tie down its tongue with a rope?
    2 Can you put a cord through its nose
    or pierce its jaw with a hook?
    3 Will it keep begging you for mercy?
    Will it speak to you with gentle words?
    4 Will it make an agreement with you
    for you to take it as your slave for life?
    5 Can you make a pet of it like a bird
    or put it on a leash for the young women in your house?
    6 Will traders barter for it?
    Will they divide it up among the merchants?
    7 Can you fill its hide with harpoons
    or its head with fishing spears?
    8 If you lay a hand on it,
    you will remember the struggle and never do it again!
    9 Any hope of subduing it is false;
    the mere sight of it is overpowering.
    10 No one is fierce enough to rouse it.
    Who then is able to stand against me?
    11 Who has a claim against me that I must pay?
    Everything under heaven belongs to me.

    Note that God never claims to be treating Job fairly or with compassion. The response is always something akin to a list of God’s unbeatable strengths, and “Who has a claim against me that I must pay?”

    Imagine hearing that from someone who has harmed you. “Who has a claim against me that I must pay?”

    All of this is ignored in the “non literal reading.” Ignored as if it doesn’t even exist.

  59. 59
    Charles S says:

    Wow! Okay, that is a really weird reading. Wikipedia claims that early Christians promoted Job from a low-ranked text to a major text because there is one line in it that can be (mis-)read as prophesizing Christ, so I guess it makes sense for some Christians to try to read Job as not meaning what it does.

    I can see reading Job as allegory, and therefore not reading it as indicting God for torturing people on a bet, but I can’t see reading Job as saying anything other than that God is incomprehensible and tortures the just and the unjust alike.

  60. 60
    Jake Squid says:

    That brings back memories! Just another step on the road to atheism, that story & the meaning we were taught.

  61. 61
    Susan says:

    I have a (ponderously learned) Jewish friend who says, “at the end Job saw God. So he was rewarded. Does anyone really want anything else?”

    Jake. It is perhaps a step towards wherever we were going, which is hardly ever what we expected.

  62. 62
    Charles S says:

    Jake, I’m curious what meaning you were taught?

  63. 63
    Charles S says:

    Susan,

    I do agree that the problem of evil really only gets at a small part of the divine (albeit, an all encompassing one). The problem of evil rebuts (or doesn’t) a particular idea of the divine (all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good), but it really doesn’t speak one way or the other to the divine embodied in the eye of a horse (never experienced the divine there myself, but I am not a horsey person).

    On the other hand, the divinity in the eye of a horse is readily available to most atheists as well as to theists, and doesn’t, in itself, seem likely to confront anyone at the pearly gates. Back to the OP, Fry wasn’t asked about the divinity in the eye of a horse, he was asked about his response to the all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good Christian god on the throne of heaven (well, Byrn incorrectly put him at the gates rather than on the throne…).

    [edited a bit]

  64. 64
    Charles S says:

    On the “Christian atheist” terminology, I’m fine with any other terminology, but, while I recognize that as an atheist I do in a trivial sense not believe in any deity, I think that the way in which I don’t believe in the external existence of the Christian trinity is significantly different than the way in which I don’t believe in the external existence of Guanyin (for example).

  65. 65
    Patrick says:

    Susan- Job doesn’t interpret Job’s story that way.

    Also, not to have one’s children die, but I’m not sure whether I’m engaged in anachronism when I assume Job saw that as a really big deal.

  66. 66
    Ampersand says:

    I suspect it’s not an anachronism. Certainly, the writer of the Book of Job seemed to expect that Job would see the death of his family as a big deal.

    It seems to me that God in the Book of Job can reasonably believe that killing Job’s children isn’t a very big deal, as long as we assume there’s a heavenly afterlife. From God’s point of view it’s more like relocating someone from New Jersey (well, the land of Uz) to Heaven than it is like ending their existence. Sure, it’s harsh for Job to lose contact with his children like that, but from the children’s perspective it was presumably an improvement.

    (In Heinlein’s Stranger From a Strange Land, at one point the godlike main character justifies all the people he kills by saying that from his perspective, killing was just telling someone to get back on line and start over).

  67. 67
    Copyleft says:

    Side note: John Byrne and Brannon Braga are writers; they included a “you’re not qualified to judge” argument as part of the dialogue for specific characters in specific stories they wrote. That doesn’t mean Byrne and Braga support that argument themselves.

  68. 68
    nobody.really says:

    Let me play angel’s advocate here. No doubt, the Book of Job is a long-standing puzzle. But I had understood it to convey three ideas:

    1) You cannot judge who is or is not in god’s favor based on how fortunate a person appears (and people who say otherwise are sanctimonious jerks). Don’t blame the victim; don’t lionize the successful.

    2) Similarly, rather than condemn the unrighteous, have compassion for them. Unrighteousness is often driven by adverse circumstances. Conversely, there is nothing especially remarkable about someone with all good gifts being able to maintain a righteous appearance. The poor man may shoplift more often than the rich one, but this is a manifestation of circumstances, not morality; change their circumstances, and you’d likely change their behaviors. There, but for the grace of god, go I.

    3) God owes us nothing. We do not earn life through our own virtues or our own efforts. Rather, life is purely a gift of god. You are free to look the gift horse in the mouth, complaining that the gift you have received is not as good as you might have wanted. (“I never asked to be born!”) But that imposes no duty on god.

  69. 69
    Patrick says:

    Ampersand- the things that makes me wonder if I am engaged in anachronism are:

    1: The replacement of Jobs children, offered as a happy ending. Children do not work that way. If your child dies, you might find comfort in raising new children. But if the person who killed them promised you really great replacement children, you would not find this valid because children are people, not a fungible good. At least, that’s the modern view.

    2: other Old Testament passages that treat children as a fungible good, suggesting a social context I have a hard time internalizing as I read the text.

    As for God doing Jobs children a favor- that’s certainly a popular apologetic when it comes to Biblical stories where God kills people. But from a literary and historical analysis perspective, it fails in this case. The Book of Job is part of an Old Testament tradition that did not believe in a happy afterlife. Job references it when he begs to be left alone for the brief moment between now and death, and other Old Testament books elaborate. The God of Job, as a story, presumably sent Job’s children to a place of darkness and finality, towards which no one looks forward with happy anticipation.

  70. 70
    Ampersand says:

    This discussion reminds me somewhat of some we had in the dorms, late at night, at university.

    Success!

  71. 71
    Ampersand says:

    Patrick – Interesting points, thank you.

    I wonder if “God doing dead children a favor,” while not working for the Book of Job, would work for as a defense of the God that Stephen Fry doesn’t believe in.

  72. 72
    Jake Squid says:

    Here’s what we were taught about Job:

    1) God is, essentially, tricked into tormenting Job.
    2) God rains down misfortune and misery on Job. Oh, and kills his family.
    3) Job never stops believing in the goodness of God, mostly.
    4) When Job confronts God on the injustice of what God is doing, he acquiesces to God’s will.
    5) Because he submits to God, winning the bet for God, he is rewarded.

    The cognitive dissonance in this interpretation of the story was so great that 8 or 10 year old me was flabbergasted. God is omniscient but is tricked into torturing one of his favorites. God is good – the best – but God is a total asshole.

    This is a problem when trying to indoctrinate children. You gotta hit them with this nonsense earlier in order for it to become an unquestioned part of their belief system. The people teaching me and many members of the synagogue that I knew had no problem with either the story or that interpretation.

  73. 73
    JutGory says:

    Copyleft @67:

    That doesn’t mean Byrne and Braga support that argument themselves.

    I know. My comment was meant to be tongue-in-cheek. My overall point in making the references was to make other analogies to Job and the way the scenario might be distinct from examples other people raised (father-son, grandparents, and politicians).

    One small point: God doesn’t harm Job at all; it is Satan that does (albeit with God’s approval). At the end, God attempts to restore him to his prior life (but, I agree, children are not fungible).

    And, Jake Squid, my understanding of the story is that God wins the bet because Job never doubts that God is just (or that he is deserving of his misfortune). He never loses his faith.

    At any rate, what bothers me about Fry’s comment is that, while bone cancer in children seems like such a bad thing, while the suffering in the world seems so pointless, while the world seems so unfair, how do I know that I am looking at it in the correct way?

    Yes, these things appear horrible, but I don’t have the perspective of God. There may be a way that all of this makes sense. If it were me, I would ask God to explain it to me. I would not accuse God of anything. Fry’s approach is Hubris. It is self-righteousness, almost by definition.

    -Jut

  74. 74
    nobody.really says:

    This discussion reminds me somewhat of some we had in the dorms, late at night, at university…. The reason I’m only almost sure is that back then I might have had one beer more than was good for me.

    Success!

    So who’s hoarding the beer? Pass one over here, guys…!

  75. 75
    Myca says:

    nobody.really

    I refer back to the prior examples of parallel universes. Surely it is good to save Dr. McCoy’s lover from being killed in a car crash? But if this leads to Nazi’s conquering the earth, does that alter your conclusion?

    JutGory:

    Yes, these things appear horrible, but I don’t have the perspective of God.

    There are a few issues here that need addressing.

    I think the first has to do with whether we can make moral judgments about the actions or person of God. As an atheist, of course, my answer is yes, but I understand why a theist might say no. The problem is, if we’re unable to make moral judgments about the actions or person of God, then it makes moral claims about the actions or person of God irrelevant.

    That is, if everything God does is automatically called ‘good’ without regard to the content of the action, then there’s no point in saying “God is all-Good.” It can mean anything at all. As I said before, it has precisely as much meaning as “God is florb.”

    Furthermore, it’s precisely the moral character of God that’s under dispute – one side says “God is all-Good,” the other says, “no, if he existed, he couldn’t possibly be.” To judge the second statement out of bounds is to say preemptively, “this entire discussion is invalid.”

    So I think that if we want to have the discussion at all, and if we want the statement that “God is Good” to contain meaning, we have to agree to our ability to make moral judgments about the actions or person of God.

    The second point to consider is what moral standard to hold God to in making our judgments. God has to take the macro view, so what may be evil for a human may not be evil for him.

    I’m open to this objection, but I’d need another moral specific standard to examine, because absent that, we’re just back at “we’re unable to make moral judgments about the actions or person of God.” Lacking that other moral standard to discuss, I’m comfortable going with a simple, “if I’d call it evil when another human does it, I’ll call it evil when God does it.”

    Furthermore, “God is good” is a human statement, made by human theologians. To claim that it has meaning, but not a meaning humans can understand, analyze, or explain is ludicrous. They’re the ones who made the statement.

    Like I said, I’m open to alternative moral theories, but I’m not open to no moral theory.

    Several commenters have said something along the lines of, “Well, God can see so much farther than us, how do we know that things that look like evil or pointless suffering aren’t actually good?”

    It’s a good point, and one that I’m open to. The thing is, though, I’m open to the specific argument – “here is the way that apparently evil action x is actually good.” I’m not open to “well, just assume that it was good, whatever the evidence to the contrary may be.” That’s just begging the question, by assuming the point under disputation is true. It’s a backdoor way to avoiding the question, in other words.

    There are some specific arguments against the “best of all possible worlds” nonsense, but I’ll leave those for a future comment (and Voltaire did a better job than I would anyhow).

    —Myca

  76. 76
    Patrick says:

    Ampersand-
    Trigger warning, discussion of atrocity.

    only partially. Bone cancer sucks for more reasons than the part where you die and presumably go to heaven. Additionally, accepting that argument does a pretty serious hack job on your ability to feel compassion or care about others. It might be intellectually consistent, but it leaves you biting philosophical bullets that really suck. Like, how should someone who believes that feel about a criminal who brutally rapes and murders a toddler? Presumably, consistency would require that such a person not be condemned for the suffering they caused, or the life they cut short, since both were just a small part of doing the toddler a huge favor that has been presumed to outweigh even death by bone cancer. The apologist could condemn the criminal for usurping Gods prerogative, or violating Gods law, but not on consequential grounds. This is a far bigger problem than it even seems at first, because it appears to rule out moral consideration of the aspects of human life we call “love” and “compassion”. I think someone can construct an intellectually coherent theology using that argument, and many have tried, but I’m pretty sure the philosophical bullets bitten in the process add up to a denial of Christ and the New Testament.

  77. 77
    Patrick says:

    “And, Jake Squid, my understanding of the story is that God wins the bet because Job never doubts that God is just (or that he is deserving of his misfortune). He never loses his faith.”

    The vast majority of the text consists of Job loudly proclaiming that his punishment is arbitrary rather than just, and that he has done nothing to deserve it.

    This, ampersand. This is the thing. Right here.

  78. 78
    Ledasmom says:

    JutGory @ 73:
    It is only hubris if you assume that the fact that a god exists – the hypothetical Fry was asked to assume – implies that said god is beneficient towards humans. In the absence of any evidence for a well-intentioned god, I don’t see that Fry is obligated to also assume that the god he’s just met has such qualities. Assuming it does requires that one postulate a system of knowledge in which the current world does not contain gratuitous, unnecessary evil – a system of knowledge for which, as far as I can see, there is no evidence that does not depend on significant special pleading.

  79. 79
    JutGory says:

    My 1:00 appears to be late so I have a minute for a brief response.

    Myca @75:

    Lacking that other moral standard to discuss, I’m comfortable going with a simple, “if I’d call it evil when another human does it, I’ll call it evil when God does it.”

    Not sure I agree. I can go with God is good, God is evil, or God is amoral. That pretty much covers the spectrum and different religions (particularly polytheistic ones have a mix). So, while the Judeo-Christian God is generally considered good or just, in essence, I don’t see it as an inherent characteristic of God (in the broadest sense of the word.

    Where I question your statement is that it is not something I would apply to animals. Meaning, if a human hunted down and killed a complete stranger without provocation, that would be evil. If a lion did it, I would not consider the lion evil, because I consider the lion to be an amoral being. Or, the lion is on a different moral plane from humans.

    I can see how you reason the way you do, but I don’t think it is the only way to deal with the question.

    -Jut

  80. 80
    Copyleft says:

    One frequent conclusion of discussions like this is that God’s perspective (assuming there is one, etc.) is ‘so far beyond’ the human level that what we consider good or evil doesn’t apply to him.

    Which is fine, until that same person turns around and says that God deserves worship because of his goodness and love. If God is not “good” in human terms, then why call him good at all? Humanity’s notion of goodness is all we have to work with. If there’s an omnipotent alien intelligence that does things for reasons we can never hope to understand, okay… but then it makes zero sense to build temples to praise and worship it.

  81. 81
    Myca says:

    Where I question your statement is that it is not something I would apply to animals. Meaning, if a human hunted down and killed a complete stranger without provocation, that would be evil. If a lion did it, I would not consider the lion evil, because I consider the lion to be an amoral being. Or, the lion is on a different moral plane from humans.

    Sure. As I said, I don’t think the ‘judge it like you would judge human action’ standard is the only possible standard, and I’m happy to consider an alternate one.

    I’d say that lack of sapience is what makes a lion amoral rather than evil. I don’t think that applies to the traditional concept of the Christian God.

    —Myca

  82. 82
    Jake Squid says:

    If a lion did it, I would not consider the lion evil, because I consider the lion to be an amoral being. Or, the lion is on a different moral plane from humans.

    Well, sure. But we can analyze the moral plane a lion exists on if we so wish. We cannot do that with big God. We can’t observe God and make conclusions based on how big God interacts with its environment. It’s all well and good to say that what’s been done is Good if only you could see it from God’s perspective but it’s also meaningless to say that. Positing big God, it’s possible that it’s true but it’s also possible that it’s false. Big God’s perspective and environment are not knowable according to the theology that I’m privy to.

    I’m really becoming fond of “God is florb”. I think I’ll make a bumpersticker of that.

    Jut, your argument ends the argument because it can’t be discussed. We cannot know whether something is good or bad from big God’s perspective. Your position needs your position to be true and that eliminates the possibility of discussion. I mean, “If your position is correct then you’re right. If you are mistaken your position is wrong,” is the entirety of the conversation available by insisting that God is florb.

  83. 83
    Mandolin says:

    Patrick — so, I agree with you pretty much 100%. Intellectually, atheistically, etc.

    I try to make space for people to have their own joy in religion, though. If that involves taking a weird, unsupported, or ahistorical view of a text, I’m all right with that. A biblical literalist is therefore saying “here’s the text, it means what it says” and if that’s true, then there’s no way to justify it as anything but horrid (IMO). If someone else wants to say “this text is a metaphor for something more humanistic” then, as Amp says, that’s a trend I’d like to support and encourage. And be happy for them that they’ve found something that makes them feel secure and happy.

    It’s possible the Abrahamic religions will eventually fade, but it doesn’t seem likely to me that they’re going to go quickly. If, in the meantime, they can be interpreted and practiced in a way that minimizes harm and maximizes good for people, that’s my preference.

    So while I might approach someone who claims a non-literal version and say “I don’t think you can support that from a close reading of the present text” or say “Yes, but the traditional interpretation of this story has caused a great deal of suffering, and simply making it more palatable isn’t going to undo the damage it does on a cultural level,” I’m probably not going to say “No, you can’t do that.”

    Because while someone said in another thread that they disapprove of the “parking ticket” or “buffet” version of religion, I disagree. Not only can people do that, but they in fact pretty much *have* to do it. The Abrahamic texts, at least, are pretty self-contradictory.

    What I don’t have truck with is “I have a buffet view of religion in general” becoming “therefore the Catholic church isn’t severely damaging because I ignore the precepts I don’t like” and then becoming “you can’t criticize the dominant and codified interpretations and practices of any religion because some people in that religion prefer it buffet-style.”

    Or, to be more specific, I’ve seen people argue that there is textual support in the bible for God approving of gay couples. OK. I’m okay with that even if I consider it a poor reading of the text. (After all, the dominant cultural reasons for saying that the bible repudiates, e.g., masturbation are based on what I consider to be a sketchy reading of the text.) But that doesn’t change the dominant interpretations or exonerate Christian sects. It doesn’t make those dominant interpretations illegitimate. It also doesn’t mean that the text has suddenly come to *mean* one thing or another, or is inherently queer positive. It means people are doing what they’ve always done with Abrahamic religions; shaping the tea leaves of ambiguous texts so that they work for their personal and cultural contexts.

    I dislike relying on this as a method for cultural change because it cannot easily be changed with fact. If you have to rely on interpretations of the bible to support moral beliefs then you end up with all this tinkering at texts rather than responding to real-world evidence. That’s frankly dangerous. But I don’t see any way around it.

    And if people are sincere in their belief and it brings happiness to them, and they want to use it to help and support others, I want to give them my support in doing so. Even if I think they have to twist the text to do it because I really couldn’t care less about the text.

    Once we start discussing truth claims, though, then the whole thing starts to make me want to climb the walls. As long as the theist is saying “this is how I think and practice,” I’m willing to extend them lots of support and benefit of the doubt. If they want to actually argue truth claims — that their God definitely exists and I should acknowledge it in argument — well, then I might bring up the fact that their interpretations don’t hold with close reading of the text. But it’s not my major preoccupation otherwise.

  84. 84
    JutGory says:

    Jake Squid @ 82:

    Jut, your argument ends the argument because it can’t be discussed.

    I think the fact that we are up to more than 80 comments is a sufficient refutation of your position.

    Joking aside, though, I agree that discussion is difficult because you have to deal with assumption about metaphysical things, but I don’t think it ends the argument.

    (For some reason, I keep thinking of a line from a South Park episode. I think it was the end of the world and God comes out and says, “And the correct answer is…Mormonism.”)

    Yes, you have to make assumptions. And, Judaism assumes that God is just and loving. Christianity is basically the same, but puts a lot of emphasis on merciful too.

    That is where the discussion begins. And, yes, the questions are difficult. So, it is not to shut down debate; I just try to leave myself open to the possibility that there are things out there that I do not know and do not understand. And the fact of the matter is that we are made of matter; matter degrades; life ends, sometimes unpleasantly. Does that mean that suffering is evil?

    But, I guess what bugged me about Fry was that his answer seemed flippant. I would think if I were an atheist, and I died, and I went up to heaven, I would have a fucking shitload of questions. Fry does not. His statement exhibits no curiosity about the world. Now, he may be curious about the world, but that is not what this statement conveys. It shows more haughtiness and arrogance.

    I guess I would feel the same way if Hinduism or even (gasp!) Lutheranism were true.

    However, if the world is atheistic, I guess I will never really know.

    So, I guess the questions I would have for the atheists is: if there is a God (i.e. if your understanding of reality is not correct) would you have the same reaction as Fry?

    -Jut

  85. 85
    Myca says:

    So, I guess the questions I would have for the atheists is: if there is a God (i.e. if your understanding of reality is not correct) would you have the same reaction as Fry?

    It depends on which God is (or Gods are) real, and whether or not the theology that has grown up around that God or Gods is more or less accurate.

    If we’re talking about the traditional Christian God, I would have a reaction something like Fry’s, in part. I might leave off the ‘how dare you’ but I would absolutely want to know why?

    Why on earth would he make thinking animals and then punish us eternally if we apply our thinking-ness, which he gave us to him? Why make abandoning our rational and critical facilities a precondition for salvation? Why SIDS? Why AIDS? Why progeria? Why Alzheimers? Why fucking anencephaly? Why create gay people and then punish them for the way they were created? Why haven’t religious leaders been more moral or upright than their time, if they are his chosen to bring the rest of us to moral truth? Why’d he choose such a backward time and such a strange land?

    I’m not as angry as Stephen Fry (but, then I’m not gay), but, “¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Dunno! It’s sure a mystery!” just isn’t cutting it.

    —Myca

  86. 86
    Eytan Zweig says:

    Yes, you have to make assumptions. And, Judaism assumes that God is just and loving. Christianity is basically the same, but puts a lot of emphasis on merciful too.

    You got those slightly mixed up; “loving” does not appear in any Jewish text I’m familiar with (and I may be a lapsed Jew, but I had to learn a lot of Jewish texts growing up), but “merciful” consistently does. For example, Exodus 34:6-7 lists the thirteen qualities of God’s mercy, and is the basis of a lot of Jewish interpretation.

    The idea that God loves his creations is, in my (admittedly non-expert) understanding, something that was introduced in Christian thought.

  87. 87
    JutGory says:

    Eytan Zweig,
    You may be right. My recollection is something to the effect that the laws God gave the Jews were just and he gave them the laws because he loved them. Then, if I recall the Song of Songs is heavy in love imagery.

    And I believe the Old Testament emphasized just punishment of people, whereas the New Testament emphasized mercy and redemption for those not worthy of salvation.

    Again, my recollection. You might be right.

    -Jut

  88. 88
    Ben Lehman says:

    I’m only marginally an atheist, but if the Christian God was real I would be surprised, and also surprised that I was meeting Him (what with me being a non-Christian and sinner, wouldn’t think I’d get to approach the Godhead) and then I would probably ask Him as many questions as I could get away with. Start with unified physical theory and whether / why there is a correspondence between physics and mathematics, work from there.

    Basically, why my reaction is different from Fry’s:
    1) If such a being exists, I’m in no more a position to judge Him morally as, a cat is in a position to judge me morally. It’s not offensive it’s just laughable and a waste of time.
    2) I find that, when I want to learn from someone (and there would be so much I’d like to learn from that God) it helps not to approach with an attitude of moralistic condemnation.

  89. 89
    Jake Squid says:

    It depends on which God is (or Gods are) real, and whether or not the theology that has grown up around that God or Gods is more or less accurate.

    Absolutely. You tell me which god we’re talking about and I’ll be able to answer the question.

    The idea that God loves his creations is, in my (admittedly non-expert) understanding, something that was introduced in Christian thought.

    Seconded. God gave us a bunch of rules that he expects us to follow.

    I don’t remember ever being taught or told about God’s love for us. It’s just not part of Conservative Judaism.

  90. 90
    Mandolin says:

    If the Christian God (as commonly believed in blah blah) turned out to exist, I’d be shocked. Mostly because there’s absolutely no reason to believe he does, and lots of reasons to believe he doesn’t.

    I consider the chances of this happening to be zero. The point of the question is a gotcha, as many people have pointed out. The response is also one. The God you imagine, under the precepts you establish, is not only silly, but morally reprehensible. (Or else totally alien, in which case, all of Myca’s objections apply.)

    Ben – I don’t expect my cats to worship me. They like me and I like them, but we reaffirm this with each other constantly, and are in constant communication about that and other things. They don’t understand vet visits, but then I didn’t get the chance to *invent* them, and if I had, believe me, I would have added that in.

    Douglas Adams:

    “Your God person puts an apple tree in the middle of a garden and says, do what you like guys, oh, but don’t eat the apple. Surprise surprise, they eat it and he leaps out from behind a bush shouting ‘Gotcha.’ It wouldn’t have made any difference if they hadn’t eaten it.”

    “Why not?”

    “Because if you’re dealing with somebody who has the sort of mentality which likes leaving hats on the pavement with bricks under them you know perfectly well they won’t give up. They’ll get you in the end.”

  91. 91
    nobody.really says:

    Why’d he choose such a backward time and such a strange land?

    Ha! (Did I spot this one before Amp? Bonus!)

    My primary point is this: I find no inconsistency with the idea that God is as good as I might want her to be, but pursues goodness — even MY version of goodness — at a level that is beyond my ken. It’s theoretically possible. Thus, I may be in no position to judge.

    But, of course, that would mean I’m also in no position to praise (or condemn) god either. So we replace a theological question with an epistemological one.

    I don’t remember ever being taught or told about God’s love for us. It’s just not part of Conservative Judaism.

    Similarly, I find no inconsistency with being a conservative Jew and being lovable. Provided you can refrain from droning on endlessly about the Palestinians and Obama. I mean, it’s theoretically possible.

    At least for god.

  92. 92
    Patrick says:

    mandolin- I get what you’re saying, but it doesn’t defend the reading of Job that interprets it as a story about how Job loved and submitted to God without question in spite of the tribulations thrown his way, and was rewarded as a result. That isn’t just a non-literal reading of the story. It’s a non-literate reading.

    I wouldn’t have a problem with someone who read the story as, say, a parable rejecting the ancient equivalent of the prosperity gospel. That’s a non-literal reading. It’s also a competent one.

    This is not an “everyone reads the tea leaves differently” issue. Pretending verses 3 through 41 don’t exist (out of 42, mind!) is not an interpretive difference, and noticing that they exist is not “close reading.”

    I don’t go into churches and scream at people about this. When I’m in church for family reasons and the minister quotes five lines from the Bible, skips three that undercut his entire message, then continues, I don’t say anything. It’s not my place to ruin their day. But… it IS my place to note, on my own or elsewhere, what this behavior says about their intellectual tradition, and about the moral character of everyone on the pulpit who participates, or tacitly condones, this system of making up a fabricated version of the Bible to feed to the proles. There’s such disrespect there that the mind trembles to contemplate it.

  93. 93
    Ben Lehman says:

    Mandolin: I think I munged up that analogy. I’m not trying to say that the relationship between such a God (if He existed) and myself would be like an owner / pet relationship. It’s obviously not. I just meant that moral judgement was equally laughable.

    The second point is probably the more important one.

    yrs–
    –Ben

  94. 94
    Mandolin says:

    That’s fair, Patrick.

  95. 95
    JutGory says:

    Jake Squid @89:

    I don’t remember ever being taught or told about God’s love for us. It’s just not part of Conservative

    Okay, again, I could be wrong. I was reading the Catholic Bible, so I don’t know how the translations are (and, because it’s Catholic, they make it more difficult; more Old Testament books than the Protestant or Jewish Bibles). That is how I know that turkey bacon is an abomination against the Lord. :)

    Having said that, I have to say that suffering is problematic. If we are made in God’s image, and we are not supposed to make a graven image (10 Commandments) but the Word was made flesh (John) and Christ came as a human being (God made in our image), and the word (logos; reason) is the image in which God creates us (Michaelangelo) and it is our reason that makes us moral beings (Aristotle, Kant), you would think that our reason would give us some parity with God upon which we could judge bone cancer in children.

    But, again, it is all metaphysics.

    I could be wrong.

    -Jut

  96. 96
    nobody.really says:

    Mandolin: I think I munged up that analogy….

    The second point is probably the more important one.

    That’s fair, Patrick.

    I don’t remember ever being taught or told about….

    Okay, again, I could be wrong. I was reading the Catholic Bible, so I don’t know how the translations are….

    I could be wrong.

    Ok, this discussion no longer reminds me of any we had in the dorms….

  97. 97
    JutGory says:

    Nobody Really @96:
    It might not remind you of your conversation at the dorms, but that is only because Nobody Really @74 was drunk off its ass on beer and did not remember what came later.
    -Jut

  98. 98
    Mandolin says:

    I hear you, Ben… but to me that still only works if the god is so alien as to invoke all of Myca’s objections to judging it.

    I expect my cats make “moral judgments” (to their capacity) of me all the time, and reasonably so; they are aware of what I do and how it relates to them and how they feel about it. I am not claiming my cats aren’t stupid, if adorable, little creatures; they are. But I also think there’s something sort of wondrous in how humans and other species, like cats and dolphins and dogs and pet rats and parrots and so on, can communicate via body language, and how much our thinking and emotional experience is decipherable to each other is shocking, though not surprising, as we’re all products of the same evolutionary tree, and convergent evolution (in the case of other social, collaborating animals) nudges similarities. But that’s a weird obsession of mine and doesn’t obtain.

    So, look at another animal — a jellyfish, definitely, can’t make a moral judgment of me, lacking a brain. Maybe we are jellyfish to God.

    But that’s not really the God of the Bible, the one who defines morality for humans, who orders genocides in the Old Testament, who *argues and debates* with humans. The God in the Bible isn’t a mysterious jellyfish; he clearly demonstrates humanlike qualities.

    There appear to be some inbuilt moral senses in humans about reciprocity and fairness and exchange which we can observe across cultural contexts, and even in similarly evolved animals. A creator God presumably made those. Why do so if we are not supposed to care about, and condemn, suffering of our peers and loved ones?

    So, yeah. If God manifests and is exactly the God most commonly defined and described by Christianity, I think “how dare you” is a reasonable reaction. But that God more or less can’t exist. So once we swap some traits to make definitional sense, then yeah, the reaction might be “whoa” or “huh?” or “can you please tell me why?”

    That would be my reaction. “So… now that we’re here and can chat and all. Why did you decide to do stuff the way you did?” Also “heh, whoops. Sorry about the whole being wrong thing.” Except I’d probably be too confused and upset and disoriented and lonely and dead and afraid to say much.

    If God condemns to eternal torture people who do their best to help and support their fellow man, I am extremely frowny about that. Presumably, though, if I’m at the Pearly Gates to chat about it, he’s not that sort. Though of course he might condemn me anyway for just not being good enough at trying to help people. I try to be a good person but I can’t say for sure I am one. I certainly have moral failings aplenty. If I had to nominate the best twenty people I know, I wouldn’t be one. Amp might be, though.

    I’m sure I’ve hammered this point enough, but if God is the kind of God who, in the afterlife, will condemn to eternal torture my loving, kind atheist parents… well, I think my reaction is going to be “I don’t like you.” I’m not sure anything could change that.

  99. 99
    Mandolin says:

    Oh, I also think I would answer the question differently depending on the spirit in which it was asked. In this context, it sure seems like the question itself is arrogant and superior, and bundled in assumptions about Fry. An answer taking that energy and redirecting it from another perspective is reasonable.

    If someone was genuinely trying to interface with me and understand my reactions, or was genuinely concerned for me (it breaks my heart how much it must hurt people to believe those they care for are going to hell. or even those they don’t care for.), I’d probably frame a different answer. I bet Fry would, too. But then the assumptions in the question have changed.

  100. 100
    Falstaff says:

    I really have nothing noteworthy to say about Mr. Fry and his opinions about (the presumably Christian, or possibly Jewish; I’m not sure if it matters, per what Mandolin said way, way up there about the context he’s speaking within) God. I’m a theist — but I’m an Unprogrammed Quaker, which is to say that I follow a religion that has explicitly rejected all forms of dogma. Which is my way of saying, I guess, that Mr. Fry can believe whatever he likes about theology, the existence of God, and the behavior of religious idiots; as long as he isn’t hurting anyone, I couldn’t possibly care less what he does or doesn’t believe.

    (Of course, this goes for everyone in my book, so people on my nominal “side” (insofar as they call themselves Christians, which title I wouldn’t give them if I was in charge of assigning such things) who violate the civil rights of others because of what they think it says in the Bible (or other such) or are just mean-spirited assholes… them I DO INDEED have a problem with. Bah.)

    No, I’m more commenting because I saw the discussion of how to read the Book of Job, and I remembered what a rabbi of my acquaintance told me once: that there’s a school of thought — she didn’t say how widespread — that reads Job as a comedy, a straight-up dark comedy, and that removed from that context it loses all its meaning (kind of like how scholars past and present have tried so desperately to find a way to interpret the Song of Songs as anything other than sex-poetry).

    I don’t remember a lot of the discussion, but one thing that’s always stuck with me since is that Satan’s name in that context is a pun; when God asks him where he’s been and what he’s been doing, Satan says he’s been walking up the land and down the land, and apparently (or so she said — I want to be clear that this is totally secondhand and I’m only a very amateur religious scholar) the word used for Satan’s name sounded very like the name of the roving Babylonian imperial secret police, and this is the sort of thing that would’ve gotten a laugh way back when.

    Eh. I don’t know. I guess that’s the only salient thing I have to add.