Category: Religion
A Pop-Quiz for Christians, Number 8
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By David Madison, 06/16/2023
Dealbreakers in the Bible

Based on my own experience—I was pastor of churches for nine years, and have authored two books critical of Christianity—I’m pretty sure of this: devout folks don’t want to think too much about issues that can undermine their faith. Which means that reading the Bible is almost a No-No. Because there is so much in scripture that should prompt educated people to say, “Well, that can’t be right.” There are so many deal-breaker texts, just in the gospels. So in this Pop-Quiz for Christians I want to focus on some of these really embarrassing texts. How can the faithful read, study, reflect seriously on these patches of scripture—and not head for the exit?
Every one of the questions I’ll pose has to do with texts that belong in dystopian fairy tales or science fiction. If the faithful saw them depicted on the big screen, most of them would laugh off these absurd scenes and sayings—and might even object to them for being in such poor taste.
But, hey, my Christian friends, these are in your Bible, which your theology claims was inspired by god. A word of caution: as you try to explain these texts, it’s a sign of weakness to resort to the standard dodges or excuses, e.g., it’s a metaphor, god works in mysterious ways, look for the symbolic meaning, rather than taking it literally.
Please deal honestly with these texts.
Question One:
Do you accept or reject Matthew 27:52-53 in your understanding of Christianity? Can you explain why Matthew included this story? Here we read that, at the moment Jesus died:
“The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many.”
Question Two:
Mark’s gospel could be subtitled, Jesus and the Demons: Mark portrays Jesus as an exorcist, most dramatically in Mark 5:1-20. Please read these verses carefully, critically, analytically. List a few ways in which they are an embarrassment to Christian theology.
Question Three:
How is this not the biggest deal-breaker of all? Jesus-script in Luke 14:26 has caused no end of anguish for Christian theologians and preachers. They hope that most of their faithful followers don’t know it’s there—and indeed many don’t:
“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”
Caution: please don’t say “Jesus couldn’t have meant that”—because that answer is based on wishful thinking. It’s better to tackle this verse from another perspective: why would Luke report that Jesus said this?
Question Four:
Now read John 6:53-57. In this Jesus-script, we read that eating the body, and drinking the blood of Jesus is a way to get to live forever. This text probably gave rise to the Catholic concept of transubstantiation, i.e., during the “miracle of the mass,” the cracker and wine become the real body and blood of Jesus. Read these graphic verses carefully, critically. How is this not a marker of dystopian fantasy: eat a god and get eternal life?
Question Five:
In Acts 5:1-11 we find a depiction of life in the early church. We read that a couple, Ananias and Sapphira, upon selling a field, didn’t give all the money to the church, provoking the fury of Peter. He confronted Ananias (v. 3): “…why has Satan filled your heart to lie to the Holy Spirit and to keep back part of the proceeds of the land?” Ananias dropped dead on the spot, and was buried right away. A few hours later, Sapphira showed up and got a similar severe scolding—and she dropped dead too. No surprise: “And great fear seized the whole church and all who heard of these things.” (v. 11)
Is this any way to run a church? Why did the author of Acts offer no hint of criticism of Peter? Is this story compatible with your understanding of church life?
Question Six:
The apostle Paul was one of the heroes of the early church, and his Letter to the Romans was ranked by one devout scholar as “the first great work of Christian theology.” Yet in its opening chapter (vv. 29-32), Paul became unhinged when he thought about sinners:
“Full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, craftiness, they are gossips, slanderers, God-hatres, insolent haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, rebellious toward parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless. They know God’s decree, that those who practice such things deserve to die…”
What? Gossips, boastful people, and rebellious children deserve to die? There are so many examples of Paul’s bad theology in Romans—and in his other letters. Are you able to fit this text into your understanding of how Christianity is supposed to work? How would you do that?
Answers and Comments
Question One, Matthew 27:52-53. This story is not found in the other gospels, nor did any historians of the time report what would have been a sensation: newly alive dead people walking around Jerusalem. But Matthew frequently indulges in fantasy; he was writing propaganda for his cult, so what actually happened didn’t matter at all. There is magical thinking here: when Jesus died, bodies in tombs came alive, then on Easter morning—when he resurrected—they walked around the city. Maybe Matthew was counting on the wow-factor here, but this embarrassment adds nothing to Christian theology. Nor does Matthew describe what happened to these newly alive corpses—probably because he wasn’t interested; follow-up might have diminished the wow-factor. Did they return to their tombs and die

again? Artist James Tissot’s 1896 painting shows the shrouded corpses floating around the city. Biblical literalists who claim that this really happened aren’t doing their faith any favors by embracing this deal-breaker. Since, apparently, Mathew made up this tall tale maybe—oh dear—the same is true about the resurrection of Jesus.
Question Two: Mark 5:1-20. This episode—Jesus transferring demons from a man into a herd of pigs—perfectly reflects ancient superstitions: the spiritual realm swarms with angels and demons, including Satan, the chief demon. Catholic theology joins in the superstition by adding to the mix thousands of saints who hear prayers. Jesus had come from this realm, hence the demons know who he was. Here mental illness is assumed to be demon possession, which begs the question why an all-knowing god—in a book designed to help humans—would allow Mark 5:1-20 to promote this misunderstanding. It would seem that Jesus used a magic spell, whereby he gave the demons permission (v. 13) to enter the pigs. And what drama! The 2,000 pigs ran off the cliff, fell into the sea and drowned. No wonder the folks in the region asked Jesus to leave! (v. 17) From Mark’s perspective, this story gives a boost to his Hero the Exorcist. But Christian theology should learn to get along without demon superstitions. Taking this story literally is a deal breaker.
Question Three: Luke 14:26. The positioning of this hate-your-family verse helps us see why Luke included it, since it comes after Jesus’ Parable of the Banquet. Here we’re told that, at the last minute, people invited to a dinner offered excuses for why they couldn’t attend. So the host ordered his servants: “Go out at once into the streets and lanes of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame.” (v. 21) The point seems to be that health or social status didn’t matter to the early Jesus cult: you were welcome. But one thing that was not tolerated was divided loyalty. This rule has always been standard policy with cults, so it’s hardly a surprise that Luke would stress it as well. Of course, it won’t do today, especially for a religion that claims to champion family values. It’s no use trying to wiggle out of the plain meaning of the text. Yes, the Greek word for hate, miseó, is right there. One way out of this awful embarrassment is to admit that we have no way at all to verify any of the supposed words of Jesus in the gospels. We have Jesus-script created by the gospel authors. But there it is—in red letters no less in some translations—which is enough to get the Bible tossed out. Luke 14:26 is a major deal breaker.
Question Four: John 6:53-57, eat Jesus’ flesh and drink his blood—to get eternal life. Of course there are other New Testament texts that suggest this isn’t true, but we’re used to the theology inflation we find in John’s gospel. In Matthew 19:21 we find Jesus-script about selling possessions and giving to the poor, to “find treasure in heaven.” And in the Last Judgement scene in Matthew 25, showing compassion is the key, while failure to show compassion will get you tossed into eternal fire. By all reasonable standards, John 6:53-57 is bad theology heavily tinged with magical thinking: the flesh and blood of Jesus have become magic potions: “eat this, drink that—and presto—you’ve won a seat in heaven.” It’s simplistic nonsense, which isn’t erased by adding elaborate ritual, i.e., the Catholic Mass. When I was a kid, growing up in the Methodist church, we had communion Sunday once a quarter. We used bread and grape juice as symbols of Jesus’ body and blood. Without noticing that it was a ghoulish thing to do.
Question Five: Acts 5:1-11, in which we read that Peter was furious because a couple kept some of the money they got from selling a field—instead of giving it all to the church. They both dropped dead upon hearing his scathing tirade. The author of Luke also probably wrote Acts, so we’re not surprised by the cult fanaticism found here as well. Give everything to the church, even as you hate your family. But it would seem that Peter ignored the advice he got from Jesus in Matthew 18:22, i.e., to forgive people seventy-times-seven. Jesus-script created by Luke collides with Jesus-script created by Matthew! Acts 5:1-11 reflects what I call totalitarian monotheism: god watches everything you do, so keep in line, or else. Now, of course, the church can’t grab everything: it has to settle for the ten percent tithe. There’s no hint of criticism of Peter in this text, despite the ending: “great fear seized the whole church.” If this were church policy today, a lot of folks would head for the exit.
Question Six: The Book of Romans 1:29-32. On Paul’s good days, he could say that “love is patient and kind,” but a careful reading of his letters shows that his good days were outnumbered by his bad days. He was convinced that his god’s default emotion was wrath (see Romans 2:5-8 especially). And when he got triggered, he fumed, hence this raging text in the first chapter of Romans: even rebellious children deserve to die. The gospel of Matthew was written long after Paul’s time—and in any case Paul shows little awareness of the teachings of Jesus—so he was not influenced by the Jesus-script in Matthew 18:22 about forgiving seventy-times-seven. The Book of Romans has had high impact on Christian theology, and is one of the most intensely studied documents in Western history. No doubt it has fueled so much pious rage against the “ungodly”—after all, the faithless are among those who deserve to die. But this is not the way to make the world a better place. I’m at a loss trying to figure out how this text can fit into a compassionate version of Christianity. Paul was so wrong about so many things. Just stay away from him, or read his letters to find more reasons to head for the exit.

I’ve just scratched the surface in this exploration of dealbreakers in the Bible. There are 1,001 embarrassing Bible texts, which keeps the apologists busy. Dr. Jaco Gericke speaks the truth:
“If you read the scriptures and are not shocked out of all your religious beliefs, you have not understood them.” (p. 137, The End of Christianity, edited by John W. Loftus)
David Madison was a pastor in the Methodist Church for nine years, and has a PhD in Biblical Studies from Boston University. He is the author of two books, Ten Tough Problems in Christian Thought and Belief: a Minister-Turned-Atheist Shows Why You Should Ditch the Faith (2016; 2018 Foreword by John Loftus) and Ten Things Christians Wish Jesus Hadn’t Taught: And Other Reasons to Question His Words (2021). The Spanish translation of this book is also now available.
His YouTube channel is here. He has written for the Debunking Christianity Blog since 2016.
The Cure-for-Christianity Library©, now with more than 500 titles, is here. A brief video explanation of the Library is here.
Trump and his cult of cognitive dissonance
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JUN 13, 2023

Overview:
Trumps is in legal hot water. But what will be more interesting for observers is not his reaction but that of his fervent followers.
Things are looking bleak for former President Donald Trump’s future freedom. He is in trouble. 37 criminal charges of trouble. Though his present indictment woes were amply evident when it was unsealed, with a very strong, evidenced case weighing against him, Trump is still facing an array of cases going forward.
The classified documents case really is strong. Remember the case against Hilary Clinton concerning her emails? Trump was President and the evidence to be brought into play, and the charges’ seriousness, are orders of magnitude greater than Clinton’s.
But what will be most interesting to watch is not Trump and his eminently predictable reaction—a performance of bravado and flat denial written in capitals—but his followers. From Rep. Jim Jordan down to the grassroots MAGA base, there will be an air of desperation as well a sense of entrenchment. We can easily imagine a scenario where few of them will fall by the wayside.
After all, we know as well as anyone how difficult it can be to give up on God.
The tales of deconversion that many writers and readers have experienced here at OnlySky and at any number of repositories for skeptical and secular folk are chock full of psychological and sociological anguish. For those MAGA fans, that potential anguish is far less desirable than fighting like an injured bear backed into a corner.
We should expect some serious guttural roaring and flailing of paws.
The problem is, those paws can flail and do some damage. Let us hop that there is no violence that comes from such an indictment in the way we observed on Jan 6th. They’ve got form.
As I have said before, Christian theologians and apologists have one job: to maintain the primacy—the moral perfection—of both God and the Bible. Everything they do is to maintain both at the apex of reality. Such believers hold to a presupposition of the goodness of God and his awesome revelation.
Whether it be in dealing with slavery or rape in the Bible, or understanding suffering and evil in the world, one “truth” must be held: the Bible and God are untouchably awesome and simply cannot be at fault. Theology is then created to muddy the waters, claim that atheists have no right to make moral judgments, blame humans for God’s design and creation faults, and ultimately get God off the hook.
Because God cannot be anything but morally perfect.
Trump is a divine member of the MAGA pantheon, positioned just above Yahweh, and just below…no other entitity in human conception. When Trump is so obviously in trouble because he has so obviously broken a list of rules longer than one of his golf courses, then his followers have to engage in mental gymnastics just as theologians do to explain ebola in light of their supposedly all-loving God.
This is cognitive dissonance reduction. Cognitive dissonance is the disharmony we experience in our minds when we hold a core belief and are then confronted with evidence against that belief. Our brains do not like disharmony and so go through a number of mental processes in an attempt to harmonize the contradiction.
The overarching lesson to be learned here is that people will go to extraordinary lengths to maintain a core belief. This might mean experiencing one of the following:
- Adapting the core belief marginally.
- Ignoring the contrary data—burying one’s head in the sand.
- Compartmentalizing the contrary data and core belief.
- Adapting the contrary data.
- Denying the contrary data.
- Delegitimizing the source of the new data.
- Reducing the importance or value of either the contrary data or the core belief.
- Whataboutism.
- Attacking the messenger of the contrary data.
The recent indictment won’t touch the die-hard believers—data bouncing off the impenetrable Trumpian rock of core belief like morality trying to enter into the mind of their leader. There are stark similarities between Trump and God, or, more accurately, between the die-hard supporters of Donald J. Trump and Christian apologists.
Trump is their god, and cannot be budged from the zenith of political worship. Therefore, for the Trump apologist, conspiracy theories muddy the waters, whataboutery obfuscates by pointing at faults in others, blame is apportioned to Clinton, Obama, Biden, and, well, anybody else other than Trump and… (refer to the list above). Because Trump, to them at least, cannot be anything but morally perfect.
This is no better witnessed than at Trump rallies—political megachurches, if you will—where he whips his supporters into a political fervor. And just as the poor attendees of megachurches so often overlook the obscene wealth of their church leaders, and overlook their often multitudinous moral shortcomings, so too do Trump cultists.
The next few months, especially if further court cases being to gain traction, will be a mighty test for the cognitive dissonance reduction abilities of so many in the GOP, from Marjorie Taylor Greene to Matt Gaetz, and from your neighbor to your work colleague. Humans are strange things, and the likelihood is that Trump’s overtly criminal behavior (that they wouldn’t, for a second, have stood for had it been committed by a Democrat politician) will most probably be excused by so many of his followers.
Perhaps a Trump 2.0 will turn up and allow those cast adrift on the rotten ship Trump, drifting on the currents of borrowed time, to wholesale escape to a new vessel.
And yet the USS DeSantis sunk before it could even leave port.
The problem is, even if Trump sinks, all of those aboard will have no option but to jump ship. But they can all swim. And when they finally get ashore, they’ll be angry as hell.
Then what?
Anselm “Faith Seeking Confirmation”
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By John W. Loftus at 5/18/2020
I think Anselm’s dictum “faith seeking understanding” is to be understood in the history of theology and philosophy to be equivalent to “Faith Seeking Confirmation.” If that’s how it’s historically used then that’s what it means. Below is an updated edit from chapter 2 of my my book, Unapologetic: Why Philosophy of Religion Must End.
There is a common theme among St. Anselm’s work and the work of other obfuscationist theologians and philosophers that needs to be highlighted. It’s called faith seeking confirmation. We see this in Anselm with regard to his new atonement theory and his ontological argument.
Anselm therefore is exhibit “A” in defense of what atheist philosopher Stephen Law said: “Anything based on faith, no matter how ludicrous, can be made to be consistent with the available evidence, given a little patience and ingenuity.”1 If I could pick one sentence, one aphorism, one proverb that highlights the main reason philosophy of religion (PoR) must end, it’s Law’s. I’ll call it Law’s law of faith.–Begin Excerpt:
Faith Seeking Confirmation
Anselm’s most enduring legacy just might be his statement, credo ut intelligam (“I believe in order that I may understand”), or in its most famous form, Fides quaerens intellectum (“faith seeking understanding”).26 While others have expressed this idea, the point is that people first believe then seek to understand. First they believe then they seek data. First they believe then they seek to confirm their beliefs. No one in the history of the confessional church probably said anything different, or if they did, faith was surreptitiously smuggled in the back door. Few if any Christian intellectuals ever said “understanding seeks faith,” because the obvious sequitur is that if they achieved understanding they wouldn’t need faith. Seeking confirmation of one’s religious faith rather than truth reverses what reasonable people should do with one’s religious faith. In fact, it goes against science since science is based on the search for truth. So in this sense, faith should be recognized as a known cognitive bias sure to distort any honest inquiry into the truth, confirmation bias.
In 1987 a large-scale US antinarcotics campaign by Partnership for a Drug-Free America launched. It featured two televised public service announcements (PSAs) and a related poster campaign. The original thirty-second ad showed a man who held up an egg and said, “This is your brain.” Then he showed a hot frying pan and said, “This is drugs.” Then he cracked the egg and put it in the pan. It immediately began to cook. He brought the pan closer to the camera and said, “This is your brain on drugs.” He ended the PSA by saying, “Any questions?” It was a very powerful commercial.
I want people to consider the drug metaphor for faith, taking our cue from Karl Marx, who described religious faith as the opiate of the people. When you think of the commercial you need to hear the actor say, “This is your brain on faith.” That’s what I think. Here then are five ways faith makes the brain stupid:
1. Faith causes the believer to denigrate or deny science.
2. Faith causes the believer to think objective evidence is not needed to believe.
3.Faith causes the believer to deny the need to think exclusively in terms of the probabilities.
4. Faith causes the believer to accept private subjective experiences over the objective evidence.
5. Faith causes the believer to think faith has an equal or better method for arriving at the truth than scientifically based reasoning.
Any questions?
Christian, before you mindlessly quote mine from the Bible or the theology based on it, consider what you think of other brains on faith, like those of Scientologists, Mormons, Muslims, Jews, pantheists, and so on. Clearly you think their brains are on the opiate of faith just as I do. Watch some videos about these other faiths. Study them. Talk to practitioners of them. Try to argue with the best representatives of them and see if you can penetrate their brains with reason and science. Can’t do it? Why? Why do you think their faith makes them impervious to reason and your faith does not make you impervious to reason?
I had a discussion with a person of faith not long ago where she said there was nothing I could ever say to change her mind. I simply replied that no scientist would ever say such a thing. I went on to say she should think like a scientist and recommended that she read Guy Harrison’s chapter in my anthology, Christianity in the Light of Science, titled, “How to Think Like a Scientist: Why Every Christian Can and Should Embrace Good Thinking.” I recommended it because thinking like a scientist is the antithesis of thinking with the drug of faith on one’s brain.
Scientifically minded people argue we should reason like a scientist. Believers in different faiths will demur, saying we cannot justify our own reasoning capabilities, since we accept the fact of evolution. I think my evolved brain can make reliable (though not perfect) judgments based on the evidence of course, and that should be good enough. But ignoring this for the moment, what if these believers are correct? Then what? It gets them nowhere as in no-where. They still cannot settle their differences because they are left with no method to do so. They will argue for faith over reason, which leaves them all back at the starting gate, with faith. They are special pleading and that’s it, thinking that if they can deny reason in favor of their particular faith then it follows their particular faith ends up being the correct one. No, if they deny reason in favor of faith the result is there’s no way to settle these disputes between people of different faiths. My claim is that religions debunk themselves and because this is clearly the case, the only alternative to know the truth about the world is through scientifically based reasoning.
The fact that I can say nothing to convince most of them of this is maddening. They are impervious to reason, almost all of them. This is what faith does to their brains.
Randal Rauser is an associate professor of historical theology at Taylor Seminary, Edmonton, Canada. He and I coauthored a debate-style book together titled “God or Godless?”27 He is a Christian believer. I cowrote the book to reach any honest believers since I consider him impervious to reason. I could say it of any Christian pseudo-intellectual to some degree, depending on how close he or she is to the truth (liberals are closer than progressive evangelicals who are closer than fundamentalists). I admit Rauser reasons well in other areas of his life unrelated to his faith. He could even teach a critical thinking class. So he’s rational, very much so. But like all believers his brain must basically shut down when it comes to faith. When it comes to faith his brain must disengage. It cannot connect the dots. It refuses to connect them. Faith stops the brain from working properly. Faith is a cognitive bias that causes believers to overestimate any confirming evidence and underestimate any disconfirming evidence. So his brain will not let reason penetrate it, given his faith bias. Some people have even described faith as a virus of the brain (or mind). It makes the brain sick. Maybe Marx said it best though. It’s an opiate, a deadening drug.
Alvin Plantinga has argued that what’s essential to have a “warranted belief” is “the proper functioning of one’s cognitive faculties in the right kind of cognitive environment.” I actually think he’s right. But faith, like an opiate, causes the brain to stop functioning properly in matters related to faith. Christian apologetics is predicated on a host of logical fallacies. Take away the logical fallacies they use in defense of their faith and they wouldn’t have any arguments left at all. They certainly don’t have good objective sufficient evidence for what they believe. A critical thinker like Rauser, who thinks more rationally than most others in every area unrelated to his faith, cannot see this, but it is the case. Now why can’t Rauser see this? Why can’t he come to the correct religious conclusions? Why can’t he think rationally about his faith? Because his faith, like an opiate, will not let him. The opiate of faith deadens those areas in his brain that are related to his faith. Rauser surely sees this with regard to other believers in different religious faiths. He will say the same things about them that I say about him. But he refuses to see the same drug deadening his own brain. Once again, faith is a cognitive bias, a virus of the mind, an opiate. It prevents people of faith from connecting the dots.
Rauser admits that like everyone else he depends on “motivated reasoning” to some degree. Well then, why won’t he apply the antidote, which is to require sufficient objective evidence for what he believes? That’s the only way to overcome the cognitive bias of faith, the only way to kill that virus in his mind, the only way to nullify the opiate of faith, and the only way to stop being swayed by his own motivated reasoning. Yet he questions the need for sufficient objective evidence apart from a private subjective ineffable feeling. Who in their right mind would do this after admitting he depends on “motivated reasoning” to some degree? No reasonable person, that’s who.
Subjective private ineffable religious experiences offer believers the most psychologically certain basis for believing in a particular divine being or religion. When believers have a religious experience it’s really hard, if not psychologically impossible, to argue them away from their faith. How is it possible then for believers who claim to have had such experiences to look at those experiences as an outsider might? We can point out the mind often deceives us and provide many examples of this phenomenon (brainwashing, wish-fulfillment, cognitive dissonance). But believers will maintain their particular religious experience is real because it was experienced, despite the odds their brain is deceiving them. We can point out that countless others of different faiths all claim to have the same type of religious experiences, whether they are Mormon, Muslim, Catholic, or Jew, but believers will still say their experiences are true ones (or veridical), despite the odds that what others believe as a result of their experiences makes it seem obvious they could be wrong too (and vice versa).
Sometimes in the face of such an experiential argument I simply say to the believer, “If I had that same experience I might believe too. But I haven’t. So why not? Why doesn’t your God give me that same religious experience?” At this point the believer must blame me and every living person on the planet for not being open to such a sect-specific religious experience. Depending on the religious sect in question that might include most every person, 7.4 billion of us and counting. But even this realization doesn’t affect believers who claim to have had such religious experiences. Calvinists among them will simply say, “God doesn’t want various people to have a saving religious experience.” It never dawns on any of these believers what this means about the God they worship, that only a mean-spirited barbaric God would send people to an eternal punishment because that same God did not allow them a certain type of religious experience.
Believers will always argue in such a fashion in order to stay as believers. No matter what we say they always seem to have an answer. What they never produce is any cold hard objective evidence, convincing evidence, for their faith claims. Ever. They are not only impervious to reason. They are also impervious to the evidence. They even see evidence where it doesn’t exist because they take the lack of evidence as evidence for their faith. When it comes to prayer they count the hits and discount the misses.
There is only so much a person can take when dealing with people who have lost touch with reality. Must we always maintain a patient attitude when we already know their arguments? Must we always respond in a dispassionate manner to people who are persuaded against reason to believe something delusional? We know this about them based on everything we know (i.e., our background knowledge). They are pretending to know that which they don’t know when they pretend to know with some degree of certainty their faith is true. If it’s faith, how then can something be known with any degree of probability at all, much less certainty? Faith by definition always concerns itself with that which is unsure. Something unsure involves lower probabilities. So faith is always about that which has lower probabilities to it. So again, how can something based on faith be known with any degree of certainty? It can’t, and only deluded minds think otherwise, minds that are impervious to reason and evidence. We can only hope they can function in life. It can be quite surprising they can.
Concluding Thoughts
Anselm of Canterbury’s key theological contributions in philosophy of religion highlight what reasonable people see as the need for philosophy of religion to end. He holds a preeminent place among the best philosophical theologians the Church ever produced. And yet, as we’ve seen, even among the best of the best there’s nothing here but rhetoric without substance based on his faith and the social climate of his day. His best contributions didn’t solve anything. Almost no one accepts his atonement theory today. His idiosyncratic perfect-being conception was based on nothing more than special pleading on behalf of his parochial Western concept of god. His ontological argument does not work either. Further, we’ve found that when Anselm’s perfect being is compared to the biblical god Yahweh and his supposed son, it doesn’t make any sense nor can it be reconciled. So the only reason to study Anselm seems to be one of historical curiosity. Anselm’s key contributions did not advance anything since we are no closer at getting to objective knowledge about anything than we would be if he never wrote a thing. When it comes to the history of philosophy he made no contributions that furthered understanding, the very thing he sought to do.
It does no good to say we’ve learned from Anselm what is false and cannot be defended, as if by learning what isn’t the case he advanced our understanding. He sidetracked our understanding for a millennium. He was doing obfuscationist puzzle-solving theology unrelated to the honest desire to understand. If we proportioned our intellectual assent to the probabilities based on sufficient evidence (per Hume), we would know all we need to know to know that Anselm and many other unevidenced beliefs are false and cannot be defended.
Karl Barth, considered one of the greatest theologians of the last century, who rejected natural theology with a big fat “Nein,” argued Anselm’s ontological argument was an example of his faith seeking understanding, rather than an argument proving God exists. Anselm did not seek to “prove” the truth of the Christian faith, Barth argued, but to understand it.28 Anselm’s ontological argument in chapter 2 of the Proslogion comes after asking God for help to understand his faith in chapter 1. There he prays, “I do not seek to understand that I may believe, but I believe in order to understand. For this also I believe, — that unless I believed, I should not understand.” Then just before developing the argument in chapter 2, Anselm prays, “Lord, do you, who do give understanding to faith, give me, so far as you know it to be profitable, to understand that you are as we believe; and that you are that which we believe.” So while there is disagreement about what he was doing, Anselm at least tacitly acknowledges his argument comes from faith rather than leading to faith. And that’s exactly what we find. The ontological argument depends on his Christian faith, which subsequently seeks to confirm his faith, what he already believes about his parochial god. There’s a recognized informal fallacy here I’ve mentioned a time or two. It’s called special pleading. It’s also the mother of all cognitive biases, something to avoid if we want to know the truth.
Philosophers of religion who have dealt with Anselm’s argument and developed their own versions of it, such as Charles Hartshorne, Norman Malcolm, and Alvin Plantinga, should take note. They don’t know their own theology. Or, perhaps more correctly and importantly, they fail to realize they’re doing the same thing Anselm did. He sought after arguments that confirmed his faith rather that seeking out sufficient objective evidence for his God.
What we’re led to conclude is that the problem of philosophy of religion stems from faith. If faith is trust then there is no reason to trust faith. Anything based on faith has lower probabilities to it by definition. Christian pseudo-philosophers do no more than build intellectual castles in the sky without any solid grounding to them. There doesn’t seem to be any good principled reason for not getting fed up with the pretend game of faith with its ever-receding theology.
–End Excerpt
The Secular Seven
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MAR 24, 2023

There have always been non-believers. But for the first time in recorded history, there are now numerous societies with a majority of people who don’t believe in God.
According to an analysis of the best internationally-available data by Isabella Kasselstrand, Ryan T. Cragun, and me, published in our new book Beyond Doubt: The Secularization of Society, the seven democratic countries in the world today with more atheists, agnostics, and assorted nontheists than God-believers are Estonia, the Netherlands, Norway, Sweden, South Korea, the United Kingdom, and the Czech Republic.
Of course, not every nonbeliever in these nations actively or personally identifies as an atheist or agnostic, per se—the former label is heavily stigmatized, while the latter is relatively obscure in certain cultures. But the percentage of the population in each country that answers “no” when asked if they believe in God is as follows:
Sweden – 63.9%
Czech Republic – 61.6%
South Korea – 59.4%
Netherlands – 56.3%
Estonia – 54.3%
Norway – 52.7%
United Kingdom – 51.6%
While there may be similar or even higher percentages of nonbelievers in other nations such as China or Vietnam, we ought not consider them because they are unfree dictatorships where the atheistic government actively polices, prohibits, and represses religion; in such societies, people have a fear of expressing their true religious beliefs, and thus, survey data is suspect. But in open, free democracies where being neither openly religious nor openly secular provokes the government’s wrath, answers to surveys are much more valid and reliable.
Why these seven?
Why are these seven nations so secular?
Each country has its own unique history that contributes to low levels of theism. For example, the UK is the birthplace of Charles Darwin, whose ideas regarding evolution have been detrimental to Christian faith. Anti-clericalism has been a significant strain of Czech nationalism going all the way to the Hussite Wars of the 15th century. Estonia experienced 50 years of Soviet occupation, during which time religion was squelched, and it never rebounded, even after the fall of the USSR. In South Korea, the educational system places a strong emphasis on scientific knowledge and technology, with little attention paid to religion.
But regardless of each country’s idiosyncrasies that may have contributed towards their high degree of irreligion, they have all experienced some combination of the following: greatly improved levels of social welfare, societal well-being, and existential security; increased degrees of wealth and prosperity; increased levels of educational attainment; a significant transition from a traditional, rural, non-industrial society to a contemporary, urban, industrial (or post-industrial) society; increased rationalization, whereby the ordering of society based on technological efficiency, bureaucratic impersonality, and scientific and empirical evidence. As our research shows, these factors are all strongly conducive to increased secularization in society.
How are they faring?
It has long been a staple of conservative propaganda that if a society loses its religion, things will go to shyte. And even some on the left buy into this nonsense; earlier this month, New York mayor Eric Adams blamed America’s never-ending school shooting epidemic on a lack of religion. “When we took prayers out of schools,” he proclaimed, “guns came into schools.”
Of course, as I have been arguing for over a decade now, if godlessness led to national depravity or high rates of violence, then we would expect to find those countries that are the least religious to be the most horrible, impoverished, unhealthy, and crime-ridden. But we find exactly the opposite correlation. These seven most godless democracies provide excellent examples, as they all boast high levels of societal health and well-being, high GDPs, extremely low rates of violent crime, almost no school shootings, superior healthcare, and more. Consider Norway, where Christianity has plummeted in the last half-century, with rates of belief in God, church attendance, and church membership at all-time lows – and yet Norwegian society is simultaneously characterized by fantastic schools, health care, elder care, access for the disabled, gender equality, economic prosperity, as well as very low rates if murder.
Indeed, five of these seven highly secular nations rank in the top 20 on the United Nations’ Human Development Index. The remaining two, Estonia and the Czech Republic, come in at 31 and 32, respectively.
It is not that these majority-non-believing nations are thriving because of their godlessness; there are too many variables at play to establish such causation. But as to the right-wing article of faith that godlessness leads to social depravity – that thesis can be flatly rejected.
Also, it should be noted that these societies are not utopias. They all have their problems. The northernmost nation of the UK, Scotland, is currently struggling with a dangerous drug epidemic. South Korea’s birth rate is shockingly low. Sweden is struggling with immigration issues. Affordable housing is in relatively short supply in the Netherlands. And so on. But compared to the vast majority of countries in the world, when looking at nearly every single indicator of societal well-being, these secular seven are doing extremely well, overall. Heck, according to the US News and World Reports rankings of top countries with the best quality of life, Sweden ranks at #1, Norway #5, Netherlands #8, the UK #12, South Korea #24, Czech Republic at #27, and Estonia at #42. Clearly, going godless does not result in national dystopia.
Godlessness goes global
Our analysis found that there are many other countries where almost half of the population does not believe in God, such as France, Denmark, Australia, Finland, and New Zealand. Given current trends, we expect these nations to join the pack of majority-godless nations in the next decade or so. And while the US is quite far from such a state of irreligiosity, belief in God has nonetheless been dropping significantly: the percentage of Americans who believe in God has dropped from 98% in the 1950s to 81% today. Among Americans under 30, it is down to an unprecedented 68%.
The term “village atheist” was common parlance a while back, suggesting that in every village, there was always some single curmudgeon who didn’t believe in god. Well today, we can longer accurately speak of the village atheist. Rather, we must accept the increasing reality of villages with many atheists. And not just villages, but towns, cities, and countries all around the globe.
“Their only hope of being rescued from the hell Hitler has made of Europe”
Here’s the link to this article.
By David Madison at 6/09/2023
The ongoing scandal of god’s negligence

It’s not a stretch to say that the Bible is one of Christian theology’s biggest burdens. It portrays a god that theologians have worked so hard to modify and refine; the very rough edges have to be knocked off. Among many other negatives, the Christian god is a terror-and-guilt specialist, because nothing you say or think escapes his notice. This is Jesus-script in Matthew 12:36-37: “I tell you, on the day of judgment you will have to give an account for every careless word you utter, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.” The apostle Paul also had an opinion on god getting even: “…on the day when, according to my gospel, God through Christ Jesus judges the secret thoughts of all” (Romans 2:16)—after all, how else would prayer work if god doesn’t know your secret thoughts? Hence devout Christians are confident that their god closely monitors every human being—all eight billion of us.
But here’s the problem: if this god is paying such super close attention, then he/she/it must also be aware of the pain, grief, and suffering of each person—and the dangers we all face because of what other people are thinking, saying, planning. This god’s failure to intervene—Christians claim he is all powerful, caring, and competent—presents theologians with a contradiction they’ve never been able to explain. Their god concept is remarkably incoherent: it just doesn’t make sense. To avoid this head-on collision with reality, clergy and theologians are sure their god has cured a few cancers (but obviously, by no means all), warms the hearts of the devout, and works in mysterious ways. All of their excuses for god’s carelessness remain pathetically inadequate.
Barbara Tuchman, in her classic analysis of the Black Plague in the 14th century, noted that the unprecedented suffering shook Christian theology to its foundations: “If a disaster of such magnitude, the most lethal ever known, was a mere wanton act of God or perhaps not God’s work at all, then the absolutes of a fixed order were loosed from their moorings.” (p. 129, A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century)
The horrors of the 20th century have done even more damage to confidence in the Christian god. A few months ago, I published an article here on the theological implications of the Great War, 1914-1918: World War I: Why Didn’t It Put an End to Belief in God? The world succumbed to even more chaos a couple of decades later with the outbreak of World War II, which was an inevitable outcome of the hatreds and resentments in the wake of WWI—and the very flawed peace treaty that ended it.
Especially because of the Holocaust, the theological implications of World War II are even more devastating. The Nazi death machine, driven by Hitler’s blind hatreds, murdered six million people. Theologians claiming that there’s a good, powerful god watching over humankind (“This is my father’s world”) should just shut up and disappear—their theobabble is an insult. Another dodge sometimes used to protect god/theology is Holocaust denialism: it’s all a big lie. I have been studying the Holocaust for a long time, and such study is possible because this horror is one of the most thoroughly documented events in human history. The Nazis considered their elimination of so many Jews a great service to the world, and kept careful records. For a glimpse of this, see the 60 Minutes special, The Secret Nazi Archive that Documented the Holocaust. There are, as well, so many memoirs written by those who survived by escaping, or being liberated from the concentration camps. Both world wars are massively documented, with so many accounts of suffering, courage, and bravery.
The title of this article is a quote from Varian Fry’s book, Surrender on Demand, published in 1945. He was a 32-year-old American who headed for occupied France on a mission to rescue people fleeing from the Nazis. He had been sent by a committee whose mission it was to get as many people out alive as possible, a task that faced huge obstacles. He ended up staying on the job for thirteen months, until he was forced to leave by French authorities, working with the gestapo: the notorious regime in Vichy, headed by Philippe Pétain. In his Foreword included for the first time in the 1997 edition published in conjunction with the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Fry

wrote about his expulsion:
“…I left France for the last time, left leaving behind so many refugees who had come to identify me with their only hope of being rescued from the hell Hitler has made of Europe.” (p. 242-243, Surrender on Demand)
Fry was based in Marseille. The book is a harrowing account of rescue missions undertaken at enormous risk, helping people flee France via the Mediterranean and across the Pyrenees on foot into Spain. Fry and his team had to arrange the forging of passports and exit visas, had to deal with the unpredictability of Spain’s changing policy on admitting refugees, had to work overtime concealing their activities from authorities. One of their primary headaches was the U.S. Department of State, which feared admitting refugees because some of them might be spies and other undesirables.
But Fry was motivated by the reality he saw on the ground. He was alarmed when he thought of
“…two young men who were brought through Marseille from a concentration camp in Africa and handed over to the Gestapo to be shot because they had had the courage to defy Hitler when they were members of the seaman’s union at Hamburg, years ago. All the other men who had been dragged out of the French concentration camps and handed over to the Nazis to be tortured, hanged, beheaded or shot.” (p. 244, Surrender on Demand)

One of the successes of Fry’s team was the rescue of Konrad Heiden, a German historian who had written a scathing account of Hitler’s success, Der Fuehrer: Hitler’s Rise to Power—744 pages. On the dustjacket of the 1944 edition of this book, these words are under the title: “Using sensational new material, the world authority on Hitler tells the whole story of the Nazi road to chaos.” If the Nazis had caught Heiden, he would have been executed. He made it to the U.S., eventually became a citizen, and died in New York City in 1966. I was lucky to find a copy on Amazon of the 1944 edition for just $11. I’m about 200 pages into it right now, and Heiden is indeed merciless in his depiction of the nonentity who rose to power—in large part because of his skills as an orator. He also describes in detail Hitler’s ferocious hatred of Jews. We cannot be surprised at all that the Holocaust became Nazi policy.
One of Fry’s concerns was to get people—on his special list to be rescued—released from French concentration camps.
“The conditions in French concentration camps could, with difficulty, have been worse. There was no deliberate torture, as in Nazi concentration camps, but there was everything else: cold, hunger, parasites and disease… one man wrote that rat meat had become a much-sought delicacy in his camp…dysentery was endemic and typhoid epidemic. And everywhere there were lice, fleas, and bedbugs” (p. 124, Surrender on Demand).
Despite warning from friends that it was far too dangerous for him, Fry decided to go to Vichy to try persuade officials to release people from these camps.
“Going to Vichy, even from Marseille, was like making a journey into the night. Vichy was a compound of fear, rumor and intrigue. The town itself is one of the dullest watering-spots imaginable. It must be bad enough in the ‘season’ in normal times; in winter, in conquered France, it was horrible” (p. 125, Surrender on Demand).
Fry went to the American Embassy to plead his case—“they were neither very polite nor particularly sympathetic”—but was seen only by an assistant. “You must understand that we maintain friendly relations with the French government.” [That is, the Nazi-controlled puppet regime.] “Naturally, in the circumstances, we can’t support an American citizen who is helping people evade French law” (p. 128).
Fry’s mission was to help people escape from the Hitler-hell.
After two weeks of frustration, Fry decided to head back to Marseille. “The train back was so crowded that we had to stretch out on the floor of the corridor, separated from one another by the bodies of other sleeping passengers, and chilled by the drafts and the total absence of heat” (p. 129).
Those in power—in Vichy and at the U.S. State Department—eventually forced Varian Fry to return home. But it has been estimated that he played a role in helping well more than 2,000 folks escape. The Wikipedia article on Fry includes a list of more than sixty of the prominent people he aided, including Konrad Heiden and Marc Chagall and his wife Bella Rosenfeld.
Fry then pursued a career in journalism, but was tormented by his experience in France. He went into therapy, but continued to go downhill. His first marriage ended in divorce, and he separated from his second wife. He died from a cerebral hemorrhage at age 60 in 1967. But his heroic efforts in France have been widely recognized. In 1991 the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Council awarded him the Eisenhower Liberation Medal, and in 1994 Israel’s national Holocaust Memorial included him on its list, Righteous Among the Nations, the first American to be so honored. In Marseille, there is a plaza named after him.

History keeps reminding us that Christian theology fails, because it cannot explain how an attentive god can be so negligent. Reading Surrender on Demand drives home this point. Varian Fry saw so much suffering and anguish that seems to have escaped god’s notice—this Christian deity who is supposed to be monitoring every human being so closely.
How can that possibly be true? In Christian Shakespeare’s book, Bunker 1945: The Last Ten Days of Adolf Hitler, we find an account of the ferocious fighting as the Russians took Berlin, while Hitler cowered in his bunker:
“They also sprayed devastating machine gun fire into those buildings where German resistance was identified. Those defending behind barricades were blasted out by Soviet artillery that had been brought up and fired horizontally straight at them, killing and wounding many instantly. High explosive shells soon littered the streets with vomit-inducing images of body parts—a hand here, a torso there, half of a severed head were as common as the rubble.” (p. 92, Kindle)
Each one of those severed hands, torsos, and heads had been blasted from the bodies of men whom god was watching: he witnessed everything. So we are assured by Christian theology based on the New Testament. The attempts to get god off the hook can be so pathetic. “But he gave us free will—so get over it” is one excuse offered to explain god’s failure to act. I can’t imagine a more egregious example of bad theology. This doesn’t make god look good.
We’d like Christians to do better, but the incoherence of their theology pretty much rules that out. Too many of their claims about god collide head-on. The job of the clergy is to keep this from being oh so obvious. “Just take it on faith” is a diversion, and ceases to work when folks take a close, careful look at the history of horrendous human suffering.
David Madison was a pastor in the Methodist Church for nine years, and has a PhD in Biblical Studies from Boston University. He is the author of two books, Ten Tough Problems in Christian Thought and Belief: a Minister-Turned-Atheist Shows Why You Should Ditch the Faith (2016; 2018 Foreword by John Loftus) and Ten Things Christians Wish Jesus Hadn’t Taught: And Other Reasons to Question His Words (2021). The Spanish translation of this book is also now available.
His YouTube channel is here. He has written for the Debunking Christianity Blog since 2016.
The Cure-for-Christianity Library©, now with more than 500 titles, is here. A brief video explanation of the Library is here.
A Body That’s Divine
Here’s the link to this article from The New York Review of Books.
A recent book catalogs the Old Testament’s physical descriptions of God, who ate, probably drank, got mistaken for an ordinary man, and was likely circumcised.
Reviewed:
by Francesca Stavrakopoulou
Knopf, 592 pp., $35.00

If human eyes could look at God’s body, what would we see? In God: An Anatomy, Francesca Stavrakopoulou catalogs the anthropomorphic references to God in the Bible, from his feet to his scalp, in order to gain a clearer picture of what the deity enshrined in its pages looks like. A professor of the Hebrew Bible and ancient religion at the University of Exeter, Stavrakopoulou draws on the testimony of those who saw God or were in his physical presence, including Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Isaiah, and Ezekiel. She searches the Bible not only for body parts but also for God’s very human behaviors, emotions, and appetites. (God is, in her reading, unquestionably male.) She returns often to the original languages of the scriptures and corroborates her findings with archaeological evidence and older mythology underlying the figure of Yahweh.
Stavrakopoulou’s study also recounts the disappearance of this body, almost like a missing-person report: while the ancient scribes of the biblical texts imagined God as embodied, over the course of centuries of Jewish and Christian doctrinal formation, rabbinic commentary, ecumenical debates, and influence from Greek philosophy, his body “gradually vanished,” becoming increasingly incorporeal, occulted, and abstract. (Although her references rove across time, from the medieval Maimonides to Jeff Koons, she does not consider the impact of Islam on conceptions of God’s nature.) This vanishing culminates in God’s alleged death with the complicity of modern atheism and science. The book ends with the image of a divine hulk stretched out on a cold marble slab; traces of human blood remain beneath his toenails, from stamping on populations as if they were grapes.
Her project resembles an earlier book called God, Jack Miles’s 1996 Pulitzer Prize–winning work that used literary criticism to depict God as the protagonist of a great epic. Stavrakopoulou’s forensic approach loses the poetic beauty of the scriptures, which Miles so brilliantly brought to the fore. She rejects metaphor, allegory, and any other veil of mystery through which humankind has usually encountered and described the divine. But her method has its own delights. Much like a fundamentalist who insists stories such as Noah’s ark are historical fact, Stavrakopoulou takes literalism as far as she can: here we meet a God who eats several of the ark animals when they are grilled after the flood. On the autopsy table, God’s belly is “swollen with spiced meat, bread, beer and wine.”
Her emphasis on the disappearance of the corporeal God sits uneasily with the fact that God’s body has never really gone away. Even if we consider God to be nonexistent or unknowable, or if we abide by religious prohibitions against imagining his physique, we still have a living picture of him in the mind’s eye. Contemporary studies, such as one from 2020 led by researchers at Stanford, have shown that in the United States God continues to take the form of an old bearded white man. He reaches out to us from chapel ceilings, reveals himself in Google image searches, and teases us in pop lyrics.
It may be that God is just a slob like us, but because he created man in his own image, anthropomorphism is always political. God’s body is our battleground. In the late nineteenth century, as mass-produced religious imagery of a white Christ flooded America, Bishop Henry McNeal Turner declared that God has black skin. When a newspaper editorial attacked him, the bishop, who had been appointed by Lincoln as the first Black chaplain to the Union Army’s troops, replied, “We do not believe that there is any hope for a race of people who do not believe that they look like God.”
From this standpoint, Stavrakopoulou’s investigation takes on greater significance. What would it mean to have a more “accurate” portrait of what God in the Bible actually looks like? Would it alter our sense of who should reign on earth? The corpse still has a pulse, and it is our own.
On a silver coin from Judah now held in the British Museum, dating to the fourth century BCE, Yahweh sits on a winged wheel, a popular vehicle for archaic Levantine deities. His body is lean and muscular; he has a long nose, high cheekbones, and thick, well-groomed hair pinned in curls. He sports a flowing beard, a symbol of sovereignty so ubiquitous in the ancient world that queens were known to wear prosthetic ones to mark their own power. It is unusual to find such Judaic depictions of Yahweh; the coin was likely made in a minting workshop that copied the models of other currencies featuring gods, perhaps from Egypt or Greece.
“Praise Yah, for Yahweh is good-looking!” Psalm 147 sings in Stavrakopoulou’s translation. While most English translations render such exaltations as “good” or “gracious,” she argues that the original Hebrew terms tob and na‘im were more often used to describe things as visually attractive rather than abstractly virtuous. In her reading, when God steps back from his creation in Genesis on the sixth day to admire his work, he sees not that it was good but rather that “it was very beautiful.” Our world was made to standards of beauty, not of righteousness, for God is an aesthete.
Fragments of an earlier body of poetry that made its way into books such as Deuteronomy suggest that Yahweh had begun his divine career in the Late Bronze Age, Stavrakopoulou writes, as “a minor but ferocious storm deity” dwelling in a marginal wasteland south of the Negev desert. Yet by the time the First Temple was built in Jerusalem around 950 BCE, the warrior Yahweh had not only usurped the throne of his father, El—who was often evoked as the “Bull” and who ruled a polytheistic household of deities that also included sons such as Baal and Mot—but had become him, taking on his name and attributes, including his horns. (In the Book of Numbers, the prophet Balaam exclaims, “God…has horns like a wild ox!”) “I am Yahweh,” he announced to Moses in Exodus 6:2–3. “I appeared to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob as El Shadday, but by my name Yahweh I did not make myself known to them.’” El Shadday is often translated as “God Almighty,” but Stavrakopoulou notes that it is more correctly “El of the wilderness.”
Yahweh’s ear was depicted on other currency in circulation in fourth-century-BCE Jerusalem; the coins functioned like phones with a direct line to the deity. It was unclear whether God would listen, but his eyesight was acute: he could see everything happening in human society and could even peer past the lining of the womb into the land of the unborn. “My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret,” a psalmist sang. “Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.” Stavrakopoulou infers that Yahweh’s eyes were lined with dark kohl, like the udjat, or Eye of Horus amulet found across Egypt and the Levant. His booming voice was said to raze everything in its path, breaking cedar trees in half, as Psalm 29 revealed. The purpose of incense, lit by temple priests, was so that God could smell it—it made his breath visible in the world as he inhaled and exhaled billowing tendrils of smoke.
In Mesopotamian myth, gods were said to “gather like flies” around sacrifices of meat; Yahweh shared the dietary preferences of his divine forebears. His penchant, as Abel knew, was for roasted firstborns of a flock, especially “their fatty parts,” which Stavrakopoulou glosses as “the succulent slipperiness coating the intestines, kidneys and liver, plus the spongy thickness of the lamb’s tail.” God preferred to eat his meat not only well-done but still on fire. His priests searched the flaming offerings for signs such as “the changing direction of the smoke’s progress” and “the precise moment at which incinerated-food remains collapsed on the altar,” Stavrakopoulou writes, “to discern the difference between a rejected sacrifice and the mysterious mechanics of divine consumption.” It is likely that Yahweh drank: his predecessors, such as the Sumerian god Enki, consumed wine and beer as a way of “transgressing their own cosmic rules.” A story on a fourteenth-century-BCE clay tablet from the ruins of Ugarit, in northern Syria, told of how El became so drunk at a feast that he “fell down like a corpse.”
In Genesis, God arrives in human size and is initially mistaken for an ordinary man, as when he appears to Abraham at the door of his tent and shares a meal of a tender calf, or when he wrestles with Jacob, dislocating his thigh. In Exodus, he gives precise toilet instructions to the fleeing Israelites, lest he step in human feces, “because Yahweh your god walks in your camp.” The Book of Chronicles relates that he likes to put his feet up on the Ark of the Covenant, using it as his footstool.
The temple built by King Solomon in Jerusalem provided a physical residence for Yahweh, yet with its destruction in 587 BCE the idea became commonplace among his exiled worshipers that God “could voluntarily abandon a temple” and the world would still be filled with his presence and power. After the Babylonian conquest, Stavrakopoulou writes, material renderings of Yahweh came to be seen “as religiously dangerous”; they were too fragile, too vulnerable to an attack, and, worse, they constrained and immobilized “an increasingly transcendent deity.” He still received offerings of dinner at the altars of the Second Temple, built in 516 BCE, but Yahweh was becoming more aloof, and around the same time the prohibition of graven images entered the Ten Commandments.
His footstool grew—it became the entire earth, as Isaiah revealed—to accommodate God’s increasingly cosmic-sized feet, as he sat enthroned in a heaven ever more distant from earth. As preserved in the Shi‘ur Qomah (Measurement of the Body), a set of anatomical calculations that circulated by the twelfth century CE, Jewish mystics tried to measure his feet. Taking Isaiah’s claim as their benchmark, they determined that the length of his soles was approximately 90 million miles.
They used the figure to illustrate that God’s body was ultimately incomprehensible to the human mind. To repeat such numbers in an incantation, again and again, was thought to induce a trancelike state in the mystic.
Seeking an uncensored view of God’s physique, Stavrakopoulou renders scriptural verse in a way that tends to be unpoetic. “I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, tall and lofty!” cries Isaiah in her translation. “His lower extremities filled the temple!” While the Hebrew term shul is nearly always translated reverently as “the train of his robe,” Stavrakopoulou argues that it is more often deployed by biblical authors “to pointedly allude to the fleshy realities of the sexual organs.” Entering the inner sanctum at Jerusalem, hit with a rush of smoke and fiery seraphim wings, Isaiah is flashed by God.
The priest Ezekiel also caught a glimpse. In a vision from exile in Babylon in the sixth century BCE, Ezekiel sees Yahweh atop a chariot of lapis lazuli:
Upward from what looked to be his motnayim, I saw it sparkling like amber, it seemed to be enveloped all around by fire. And from his motnayim downward I saw something like fire. And brilliance surrounded him. Like the bow in a cloud on a rainy day, this was the appearance of the brilliance all around.

The Hebrew motnayim is usually translated as “waist” or “loins” but more correctly refers to the genitals, Stavrakopoulou writes. While for humans the genitals must be concealed, here is a vision of God in which everything is hidden except the private parts, as if to underscore the difference between mortal and divine. (Stavrakopoulou does not draw distinctions between images of God seen in visions or dreams versus more concrete encounters.)
For rabbinic commentators, the penis posed a problem. If Adam was made in the image of God, and Adam was circumcised, then God too must have had his foreskin removed—but who circumcised God? An ancient Phoenician myth, preserved by the second-century-CE writer Philo of Byblos, reported that El (like Abraham) took matters into his own hands. In a different, Ugaritic version, El left it to horticultural specialists—experts at pruning grape vines—in preparation for consummating his marriage.
Like his predecessor, Yahweh had a wife: her traces still pervade the scriptures. El was wedded to the powerful Athirat, a goddess worshiped across the Levant who had birthed seventy divine sons and breastfed human kings. Taking her Hebrew name, Asherah, she became Yahweh’s consort. Several inscriptions from the eighth century BCE convey blessings from “Yahweh and his Asherah” at sites such as Khirbet el-Qom in the West Bank, where the words grace a burial chamber laid out as a bedroom for the dead. There is evidence that Solomon’s temple in Jerusalem housed her cult statue and that her sacred tree was planted next to Yahweh’s altars. The word asherah occurs in the Hebrew Bible forty times, but it is often rendered in English as “grove” or “sacred pole.”
With the building of the Second Temple came an era of theological reform. As Stavrakopoulou writes:
The traditional polytheism of the past was remodelled in the image of what is sometimes described as an “emergent monotheism,” but is more accurately understood as a radical form of pantheon reduction: Yahweh lost his wife, while other members of his divine council were downgraded from deities to minor divine beings, heavenly messengers, or cosmic abstractions.
Asherah was branded a prostitute, a temptress who led Yahweh’s followers astray, or she was entirely suppressed by biblical scribes. The Hebrew rendering of her name was mispronounced to sound like “shame.” Yet she is still present in an incantation in Genesis under her sobriquet, Breasts-and-Womb, and appears in ritual depictions in Jeremiah in which women burn incense to “the Queen of Heaven.”
Stavrakopoulou draws links between Asherah and Eve based on common epithets and the language of Genesis 4:1. It leads her to the unexpected claim that it was Yahweh, rather than Adam, who fathered Cain. Rejoicing at the birth, Eve declares that she has “acquired” or “gotten” a child with the “help” of the Lord, as her words are conventionally translated. The scholar David Bokovoy has demonstrated how linguistic evidence more strongly supports the meaning that she has “procreated…with Yahweh,” capturing a sense that the deity had an active part in human conception. Stavrakopoulou takes this further to suggest sex in the Garden between God and Eve but leaves the idea dangling, like a piece of forbidden fruit as yet unripe.
Yahweh reveals himself as “a powerful sexual predator,” she writes, in passages that biblical scholars tend to label “pornoprophetic” and that bring us to the limits of Stavrakopoulou’s method. In Ezekiel, God finds Israel in the form of an infant girl, with umbilical cord still protruding, covered in the blood of childbirth, and left in the wilderness. The deity rescues her, then notices her again when she has grown breasts at puberty. “You were at the age for lovemaking,” Yahweh recalls of her nakedness. “You became mine.” When his bride is unfaithful, the divinity commits acts of gruesome sexual violence. While second-century-CE rabbis banned these verses from synagogues, early Christian interpreters refused to see God in the lines at all. As the theologian Origen wrote:
Let them give an opinion on this, I ask: Jerusalem has breasts, and at one time they are not bound, and at another they are made firm, and she has an umbilical cord and is reproached because “it was not cut.” How is it possible to understand these things without allegorical interpretation?
One might wonder the same watching the strip search of God. In her section on genitals, Stavrakopoulou arrives at a portrait of God as “a predatory alpha male” who has sanctified millennia of misogyny. “The biblical God cannot and should not be let off the hook,” she writes in a presentist and activist mode. She connects the girth of Yahweh’s biblical penis in the Book of Habakkuk to our own “cultural phallocentrism,” and recounts how Donald Trump taunted Kim Jong-un over the larger size of his nuclear button. Her descriptions of ancient “alpha masculinity”—“a rock-hard erection, powerful jets of semen…an insatiable libido and penetrative domination”—could have come from Reddit. Yahweh, she later repeats, was “the paradigmatic alpha-male,” but the alpha male is only a figment that sprang out of zoology into mass consciousness about forty years ago. God’s body, in this chapter, resembles a cartoon of our own present-day supreme beings.
For rabbinic sages, God’s male body, rather than endorse a bellicose masculinity, challenged the idea of human manhood itself. As Howard Eilberg-Schwartz has shown in his study God’s Phallus, in ancient Jewish societies in which sex acts between men were harshly punished, the sexual metaphors for capturing God’s bond with Israel put male worshipers in an impossible homoerotic position. If male–female is the pairing of religious devotion, human women become the natural lovers of a male God, rendering human men as irrelevant as Joseph would be to Jesus’ birth—or perhaps as irrelevant as Adam was to Cain’s. This tension, Eilberg-Schwartz argues, contributed to the feminization of men in rabbinic thought, fostering a soft, unwarlike ideal type that the scholar Daniel Boyarin has sought to reclaim as “the eroticized Jewish male sissy.”
These other masculinities are also present in God, but they appear at a distance from the divine “phallic warrior.” Had Stavrakopoulou placed them in dialogue with one another, it might have deepened her portrait of God’s manhood and the complexity of its consequences for how men ought to live on earth. Because God is organized as an anatomical diagram, it is by nature reductive, to each body part. It risks oversimplifying biblical lines, so often read and interpreted toward contradictory ends.
Scholars in the second century CE such as the Rabbi Yohanan deduced that the deity dressed in a rabbinic style, covering his shoulders with a fringed shawl or tallit, still worn today by observant Jews. Each week God kept Shabbat with his angels, as the Book of Jubilees revealed. He joined study groups that labored to parse his sacred word. Drawing on evidence in Deuteronomy and other scriptures, the fourth-century-CE Rabbi Avin inferred that God also wore tefillin, small, talismanic boxes containing Torah verses and bound with leather straps to the upper arm and forehead. God prayed—“May it be My will”
—and offered sacrifices to himself, often amid human war. He wept for tragedies that he had caused.
The Talmudic treatise Avodah Zarah described God’s daily schedule, which included late mornings first spent “judging the entire world,” then turning to mercy when God realized—as if anew each day—humanity’s hopeless self-destructiveness. While in the afternoons God did the tiring work of giving sustenance to all creatures, in the evenings he would relax with his pet sea monster. “There is the sea, great and wide…and Leviathan whom you formed to play with!” exclaims Psalm 104. Although God delighted in his monster, it was said that Leviathan was destined to turn from pet to food. Several texts written in an apocalyptic moment, after the destruction of Jerusalem at the end of the first century CE, describe how, when God gathers the righteous for a last supper, the sea serpent will be served as the messianic meal. Drawing on a verse in Job, the rabbis determined that Leviathan is a kosher fish, “for it is written: ‘His scales are his pride.’”
But what of God’s skin? In the summer of 1890 the Lakota holy man Black Elk received a vision of a divine man with markings in the palms of his hands, an eagle feather tucked into long hair, and skin painted red. The encounter occurred during the ghost dance at Wounded Knee Creek, only a few months before the massacre of hundreds of Lakota people by US soldiers. Of all possible shades of the divine, what Black Elk saw comes closest to what Stavrakopoulou argues was the original complexion of God in the Bible. As attested by a terracotta divinity dated to around 1850 BCE and unearthed in the Sumerian city-state of Ur, red was once the hue of cosmic bodies across Mesopotamia, Egypt, and the Levant. Crimson pigment made things come alive: it transformed objects into animate beings or resurrected them, from the red painted onto neolithic skulls to the red resin used in Egyptian mummification rituals. The color embodied a certain “warrior erotica,” as human fighters stained their bodies red before battle. “My beloved is radiant and ruddy,” declares the Song of Songs, exalting a body so sublimely perfect that early rabbis supposed it could only belong to God himself.
“While I was staring hard at him, his body began to change and became very beautiful with all colors of light,” Black Elk related, “and around him there was light.” This shifting from redness into incandescence recalls the changing qualities of divine skin in the ancient world. From around 1000 BCE “the dazzling, blazing radiance of the gods’ bodies had come to be a defining characteristic of divinity,” Stavrakopoulou writes. The Assyrians called this glowing aura of fire the melammu and depicted it in iconography as abstract, wavy lines emanating in a circle. It was hot enough to boil water: the warrior goddess Ishtar boasted, “My melammu cooks the fish in the sea.” In Hebrew the word is kabod, the brilliant glory to which Ezekiel was exposed in his priapic vision. At the peak of Mount Sinai, Moses begged to see the kabod and was given a view of God’s hindquarters so luminescent it transfigured Moses’s face. Across the testaments, Yahweh appears, as in Psalm 104, “wrapped in light as with a garment,” a searing glare that is, Enoch related, too bright even for angels to look at. When Yahweh dined on sacrificial meat still on the grill, his own fieriness engulfed the flaming food.
In Greek the word is doxa, and in the New Testament it describes Jesus’ illuminated splendor, the blinding light that converted Paul. With the idea of the Trinity, God became ever more incorporeal, as Jesus’ incarnate body in many ways took the place of his father’s. God had grown old in the dreams of the writer Daniel: in the second-century-BCE text, Yahweh appears for the first time as “the Ancient of Days.” Daniel witnesses the elderly deity seated on a fiery throne, with hair “like lamb’s wool” and dressed in robes “white as snow.” In the visions of John of Patmos in Revelation, the heavenly son resembles his father: “His head and his hair were white as white wool, white as snow.” The phrase “white as snow” conveys both purity and disease in the scriptures. It appears several times in the Old Testament to describe leprosy: Yahweh temporarily turns Moses’s hand “leprous as snow”; Moses’s sister Miriam becomes “leprous, white as snow;” a servant in the Second Book of Kings meets the same fate. The association with skin lesions contrasts the crystalline perfection of divine and angelic bodies, which are, in the New Testament, often described as white. The Gospel of Mark evokes a hue beyond any human manufacture: when Jesus stands at the peak of a mountain, “his clothes became dazzling white such that no one on earth could bleach them.”
As Christian theologians forged an embattled new faith, the radiant doxa of Christ was frequently pitted against symbols of darkness and sin. While in Jewish and Greco-Roman societies dark skin “might be variously identified with beauty, majesty and wealth, as well as foreignness, erotic exoticism, or xenophobic danger,” Stavrakopoulou writes, it would become “a means of colouring sinners in need of Christian salvation.” While the priest Jerome caricatured “Ethiopians” as “black and cloaked in the filth of sin,” the Alexandrian pope Athanasius imagined the devil as a small black child. In the religious art of Western Europe, “the golden hues of Christ’s divinity were increasingly concentrated in his halo, while his skin grew ever lighter and whiter.” It was this white-skinned Christ who presided over the genocide and enslavement of people across the earth, as Christian conversion was used to sanctify acts of dispossession, exploitation, and brutality in the building of European and American empires. Stavrakopoulou deftly captures how a primeval theology of light has given way to our present-day divinity of whiteness. It is a shame she buries her analysis between sections on the belly and the bowels.
The effect of God’s alleged whiteness “is contemptuous and degrading,” argued Bishop Turner in a prescient 1898 response to his critics. It is not simply that the racialization of God’s body acts as a metaphor for supremacist ideologies: the images themselves possess a disconcerting power. A 2017 experiment at Tufts demonstrated this: over a hundred white Americans were subliminally exposed to different images before answering a set of survey questions. In their responses, the group primed with portraits of a white Jesus displayed significant increases in anti-Black racism than those who had seen pictures of a Black Jesus, which had no discernable prejudicial effects. Stavrakopoulou’s postmortem is an illuminating thought experiment, but the white God who lives among us simply rises from her autopsy table and walks away.
This Issue
April 6, 2023
Anna Della Subin is the author of Accidental Gods: On Men Unwittingly Turned Divine. (April 2023)
How to Change the Minds of Believers
Here’s the link to this article.
John W. Loftus | January 31, 2023 | Editor’s Choice, Kiosk Article
After spending nearly two decades trying to change the minds of Christian believers—my focus in what follows—I still don’t fully know how to do it. Regardless, I’ll share ten helpful tips for readers who, like me, want to bang their heads against a wall. I think that it’s worth doing despite the low odds of success, for any success helps rid the world of the harms of religion. Besides, one of the greatest challenges is to change minds, and I like challenges. Plus, I’ve learned a great deal by attempting this important underappreciated task.
If you choose to follow in my footsteps, begin where you are. You may not feel qualified. But you can question. If you do that, you’ll do well. Nonbelievers are first and foremost questioners, doubters, skeptics. We are nonbelievers because we are more willing than most to question everything. You can’t go wrong in doing that. There are plenty of beliefs that are not just wrong, but palpably wrong. Question them. As you get better at asking questions, learn to use the Socratic method. Use leading questions to help believers begin to doubt their certainties.[1]
I understand the cognitive bias known as the backfire effect. It shows that challenging believers with facts makes most of them dig in deeper, causing them to double down in defense of their faith. If their faith survives, their faith is strengthened. While ridicule and satire have an effect on groups of people[2], keeping personal encounters friendly will be more effective with people that you talk to. We never know if the seed sown might eventually blossom into a changed mind. Most believers cannot be reasoned out of their faith because they were never reasoned into it, but this is still the best that we can do. With enough encounters it might have a cumulative effect, especially if the believer experiences a crisis in his/her life.[3]
Belief is a product of ignorance in varying degrees. So there’s much to inform them about. As you proceed, inform them about what you know, whatever that is. You will learn as you go. Study as you go, too. The more that you know, the better that you’ll do.
(1) I would start in some cases by informing believers of the role cultural indoctrination plays in the adoption of Christianity, and why it’s an unreliable guide for adopting the correct religious faith, if there is one. Given the accidents of when and where we were born, and how we were raised, our religious faith was unthinkingly adopted just as surely as was our nationality and preferred cuisine. So at least once in their lives, believers should seriously question what they believe. Consider it a rite of passage to adulthood if nothing else.
(2) I would inform believers how hard it is to break free from one’s cultural indoctrination, like quitting smoking but much harder. Research professor of psychology Jonas Kaplan did a study of the human brain and concluded: “The brain can be thought of as a very sophisticated self-defense machine.” He added: “If there is a belief that the brain considers part of who we are, it turns on its self-defense mode to protect that belief.” Accordingly, “the brain reacts to belief challenges in the same way that it reacts to perceived physical threats.”[4] To honestly seek the truth we must determine to disarm the brain. Analogous to Alcoholics Anonymous, the first step to recovery is to recognize that we have a brain problem. It won’t allow us to entertain facts that disrupt our comfort zone, our tribalistic beliefs. It will do everything it can to reject them.
(3) I would inform believers about the cognitive biases that act like viruses on our brains. They adversely affect the ability of our brains to honestly evaluate our religious cultural indoctrination. Just knowing this is significant. Knowledge serves as a vaccine. It helps disarm the brain.
Confirmation bias is the mother of all cognitive biases. We are in constant search of confirmation; hardly ever do we seek disconfirmation. We reject and dismiss out of hand what does not comport to existing beliefs, and easily embrace that which does. There are other relevant biases, like anchoring bias, in-group bias, belief blind spot bias, belief bias effect, illusory truth effect, agent detection bias, objectivity illusion bias, the ostrich effect, hindsight bias, and so on.
These biases lead us to reason fallaciously. Believers are susceptible to fallacies like tu quoque (“You too!”—an appeal to hypocrisy/whataboutism), possibiliter ergo probabiliter (“possibly, therefore probably”), straw man/person, argument from ignorance, appeal to popularity (ad populum), equivocation, false analogy, post hoc ergo propter hoc (Latin for “after this, therefore because of this”), cherry picking, hasty generalization, circular reasoning, red herring, non sequitur, and especially special pleading.
(4) I would inform believers that the only way to disarm the brain (yes, basically the only way) is to adopt the perspective of a nonbeliever, an outsider to our indoctrinated religious beliefs. More than anything else, this can help the brain avoid cognitive biases in the honest search for truth. It will help force the believer’s brain to follow the objective evidence wherever it leads. Treat your own religion the way that you treat all other religions, with no double standards and no special pleadings. Assume that your own religion has the burden of proof. See if your faith survives.[5]
(5) At this point inform believers about their holy book and the theologies built on it. Most believers don’t read their Scriptures, or understand the doctrines of their sect-specific faiths. So encourage Christians to read the Bible. Have them read Judges 19-21 to see what the god of the Old Testament instructed the Hebrews to do. Then ask why anyone should trust anything that these bloodthirsty barbarians wrote down. Also ask them why that god commanded genocide and child sacrifice.[6]
The Bible debunks itself.[7] It contains forgeries and borrowed pagan myths, and is inconsistent within itself. It tells a plethora of ancient superstitious tales that don’t make any sense at all. It has a god that evolved from a polytheistic one who lives in the sky above the Earth, who does both good and bad, who makes room for both angels and demons, and who thinks that a god/human blood sacrifice can magically ransom us from the grip of the Devil (the first widely accepted atonement theory).
(6) Inform believers about the Church. The history of the Church, and of the people claiming to have the alleged Holy Spirit inside of them, reveals a continuous spectacle of atrocities such that its history is a damning indictment upon the god that they profess to believe in.[8]
(7) Inform believers about science and how it works. It’s answering the very mysteries that produce religious belief in the first place. The fewer mysteries that we have in the world, then the less we feel the need to believe.[9] The crowning discovery of science is evolution. On this issue, as with everything that I’m saying, it helps to provoke believers to do further research. Ask them what would make Richard Dawkins say:
Evolution is a fact. Beyond reasonable doubt, beyond serious doubt, beyond sane, informed, intelligent doubt, beyond doubt evolution is a fact…. It is the plain truth that we are cousins of chimpanzees, somewhat more distant cousins of monkeys, more distant cousins still of aardvarks and manatees, yet more distant cousins of bananas and turnips … continue the list as long as desired…. It didn’t have to be true, but it is. We know this because a rising flood of evidence supports it. Evolution is a fact…. No reputable scientist disputes it.[10]
Be sure to point out the implications of evolution: that there was no Adam & Eve, no original sin, and no need for a savior.
(8) Inform believers about the need for objective evidence in support of the miracle claims in the Bible.[11] There is no objective evidence for any of them, just a few ancient testimonies that we cannot verify.[12]
The way to honestly evaluate miracle claims is to focus on clearly obvious concrete test cases like a virgin-birthed deity.[13] It’s not to construct hypothetical miracle scenarios, to wrestle with questions over what we consider to be objective evidence, or to specify the exact demarcation point between ordinary claims and extraordinary ones.
For instance, believers will claim that nonbelievers have no objective criteria for what counts as extraordinary evidence. To cut to the chase, I respond that I know what does not count as extraordinary evidence. Second-, third-, or fourth-hand hearsay testimonial evidence doesn’t count, nor does circumstantial evidence or anecdotal evidence as reported in documents that are centuries later than the supposed events, which were copied by scribes and theologians who had no qualms about including forgeries. I also know that subjective feelings or experiences or inner voices don’t count as extraordinary evidence; nor do tales told by someone who tells others that his writings are inspired; nor does putative divine communication through dreams or visions. Once these facts are acknowledged, call on believers to do the math. Just subtract and see what’s left.
(9) Inform believers about statistics. Statistician David Hand shows us that “extraordinarily rare events are anything but. In fact, they’re commonplace. Not only that, we should all expect to experience a miracle roughly once every month.” He is not a believer in supernatural miracles, though. “No mystical or supernatural explanation is necessary to understand why someone is lucky enough to win the lottery twice, or is destined to be hit by lightning three times and still survive. All we need is a firm grounding in a powerful set of laws: the laws of inevitability, of truly large numbers, of selection, of the probability lever, and of near enough.”[14] There is a growing list of books making this same point. Extremely rare events are not miracles. Period. We should expect extremely rare events in our lives many times over. No gods made these events happen.
(10) Inform believers about the problem of horrendous suffering. This evidence is as close to a refutation of an omnipotent, omniscience, omnibenevolent God as is possible.[15] The way to honestly evaluate the compatibility of God and horrific suffering is not to specify the exact demarcation point when the suffering in our world is too much to coexist with a perfect deity. Nor is it to fuss much about whether God and horrendous suffering are logically impossible. Those questions are interesting, but in order to honestly evaluate this difficulty, the best arguments are evidential ones about clearly obvious concrete test cases like the Holocaust, or the massive numbers of children who suffer from malnutrition and die every year, or the kill or be killed law of predation in the animal world.
Notes
[1] See Peter Boghossian, A Manual for Creating Atheists (Durham, NC: Pitchstone Publishing, 2013). Anthony Magnabosco does this on a regular basis.
[2] See John W. Loftus, “On Justifying the Use of Ridicule and Mockery” (January 17, 2013). Debunking Christianity blog. <https://www.debunking-christianity.com/2013/01/on-justifying-use-of-ridicule-and.html>.
[3] This is one of five factors that can change minds. See Loftus, “Five Factors that Cause Christians to Lose Their Faith” (December 9, 2010). Debunking Christianity blog. <https://www.debunking-christianity.com/2010/12/five-factors-that-cause-christians-to.html>.
[4] See Loftus, “The Brain Treats Questions about Beliefs like Physical Threats. Can We Learn to Disarm It?” (January 14, 2018). Debunking Christianity blog. <https://www.debunking-christianity.com/2018/01/the-brain-treats-questions-about.html>.
[5] See Loftus (ed.), The Outsider Test for Faith: How to Know Which Religion is True (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2013).
[6] See Loftus, “The Hebrew Bible’s Disturbing Attitude Towards Human Sacrifice” (April 16, 2015). Debunking Christianity blog. <https://www.debunking-christianity.com/2015/04/the-hebrew-bibles-disturbing-attitude.html>.
[7] See Loftus, “The Bible Debunks Itself” (March 5, 2008). Debunking Christianity blog. <https://www.debunking-christianity.com/2008/03/bible-debunks-itself-part-1.html>.
[8] This is amply documented in Loftus (ed.), Christianity is not Great: How Faith Fails (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2014).
[9] See Loftus (ed.), Christianity in the Light of Science: Critically Examining the World’s Largest Religion (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2016).
[10] Richard Dawkins, The Greatest Show on Earth: The Evidence for Evolution (New York, NY: Free Press, 2009), pp. 8–9.
[11] See Loftus (ed.), The Case against Miracles (United States: Hypatia Press, 2019).
[12] See Loftus, “What’s Wrong with Using Bayes’ Theorem on Miracles?” (January 25, 2022). The Secular Web. <https://infidels.org/kiosk/article/whats-wrong-with-bayes-theorem/>.
[13] See Loftus, “The Gateway to Doubting the Gospel Narratives is the Virgin Birth Myth” (March 5, 2008). Debunking Christianity blog. <https://www.debunking-christianity.com/2020/06/the-gateway-to-doubting-gospel.html>.
[14] David J. Hand, The Improbability Principle: Why Coincidences, Miracles, and Rare Events Happen Every Day (New York, NY: Scientific American/Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2014), pp. 197-199.
[15] See Loftus (ed.), God and Horrendous Suffering (Denver, CO: Global Center for Religious Research, 2021).
If We Can Know the “Gist” of What Jesus Said and Did … What’s the Gist?
Here’s the link to this article by Bart Ehrman.
June 10, 2023
I’m going to be discussing soon some of the things that appear to be “misremembered” about Jesus in our early sources, but first it’s important to emphasize some of the hugely critical positive things about memory – like, that most of the time we get it basically right. Depending, of course, on what “basically” means!
Here’s how I discuss the matter in Jesus Before the Gospels (HarperOne, 2016).
*******************
Remembering the Gist?
Let me make a point that may not be clear from what I have said so far about the psychology of memory. In stressing the fact – which appears to be a fact – that memories are always constructed and therefore prone to error, even when they are quite vivid, I am not, I am decidedly not, saying that all of our memories are faulty or wrong. Most of the time we remember pretty well, at least in broad outline. Presumably, so too did eyewitnesses to the life of Jesus. As did the person who heard a story from an eyewitness may well have remembered in broad outline he was told. And the person who heard a story from a neighbor whose cousin was married to a man whose father told him a story that he heard from a business associate whose wife once knew someone who was married to an eyewitness. Probably in the latter case – which, as far-fetched as it sounds, may be pretty close to how most people were hearing stories about Jesus – a lot more would have been changed than in the case of an eyewitness telling someone the day after he saw something happen. But my basic point here is that despite the faults of memory, we do obviously remember a lot of things, and the fundamental memories themselves can often be right.
This is a commonplace in the psychological study of memory. We tend to remember the “gist” of an experience pretty well, even if the details get messed up. You may not remember correctly (despite what you think) where, when, with whom, or how you heard about the Challenger explosion, or the results of the O. J. Simpson trial, or even (this is harder to believe, but it appears to be true) the attacks of 9/11. But you do remember that you heard about the events, and you remember that they happened.
As we will see, this is an important point, because there are gist memories of Jesus recorded in the New Testament Gospels that are almost certainly accurate. At the same time, there are a lot of details – and in fact entire episodes – that are almost certainly not accurate. These are “memories” of things that didn’t actually happen. They are distorted memories.
Still, many of the broad outlines that are narrated in the Gospels certainly happen. Much of the gist is correct. One big question, then, is just how broad does a memory have to be in order to be considered a gist memory? Different scholars may have different views about that.
John Dean as a Test Case
A famous example can demonstrate my point. There is a much cited study done of both detailed and gist memories of a person who claimed to have, and was generally conceded to have, a very good memory: John Dean, White House Counsel to Richard Nixon from July 1970 to April 1973.
During the Watergate hearings Dean testified in detail about dozens of specific conversations he had during the White House cover up. In the course of the hearings he was asked how he could possibly remember such things. He claimed to have a good memory in general. But he also indicated that he had used later newspaper clippings about events in the White House to refresh his memory and to place himself back in the context of the events that were described. It was after he publicly described his conversations with Nixon that the White House tapes were discovered. With this new evidence of what was actually said on each occasion, one could look carefully at what Dean had earlier remembered as having been said, to see if he recalled both the gist and the details correctly.
That’s exactly what the previously mentioned Ulric Neisser did, in an intriguing article called “John Dean’s Memory: A Case Study.” Neissser examined two specific conversations that took place in the Oval office, one on September 15, 1972 and the other on March 21, 1973, by comparing the transcript of Dean’s testimony with the actual recording of the conversation. The findings were striking.[1] Even when he was not elevating his own role and position (as he did), Dean got things wrong. Lots of things wrong. Even big things.
For example, the hearing that involved the September 15 conversation occurred nine months later. The contrast between what Dean claimed was said and what really was said was sharp and striking. In Neisser’s words:
Comparison with the transcript shows that hardly a word of Dean’s account is true. Nixon did not say any of the things attributed to him here…. Nor had Dean himself said the things he later describes himself as saying…. His account is plausible but entirely incorrect…. Dean cannot be said to have reported the ‘gist’ of the opening remarks; no count of idea units or comparison of structure would produce a score much above zero.[2]
It should be stressed the Neisser does not think Dean was lying about what happened in the conversation in order to make himself look good: the conversation that really happened and the one he described as happening were both highly incriminating. So why is there a difference between what he said was said and what was really said? Neisser argues that it is all about “filling in the gaps,” the problem I mentioned earlier with respect to F. C. Bartlett. Dean was pulling from different parts of his brain the traces of what had occurred on the occasion and his mind, unconsciously, filled in the gaps. Thus, he “remembered” what was said when he walked into the Oval Office based on the kinds of things that typically were said when he walked into the Oval Office. In fact, whereas they may have been said on other occasions, they weren’t on this one. Or he might have recalled how his conversations with Nixon typically began and thought that that was the case here as well, even though it was not. Moreover, almost certainly, whether intentionally or sub-consciously, he was doing what all of us do a lot of the time: he was inflating his own role in and position in the conversation: “What his testimony really describes is not the September 15 meeting itself but his fantasy of it: the meeting as it should have been, so to speak…. By June, this fantasy had become the way Dean remembered the meeting.”[3]
Neisser sums up his findings like this: “It is clear that Dean’s account of the opening of the September 15 conversation is wrong both as to the words used and their gist. Moreover, cross examination did not reveal his errors as clearly as one might have hoped….. Dean came across as a man who has a good memory for gist with an occasional literal word stuck in, like a raisin in a pudding. He was not such a man.”[4]
And so, whether Dean had a decent gist memory probably depends on how broadly one defines “gist.” He knew he had a conversation with Nixon. He knew what the topics were. Nonetheless, he appears not to have known what was actually said, either by Nixon or himself.
In this instance we are talking about an extraordinarily intelligent and educated man with a fine memory, trying to recall conversations from nine months before. What would happen if we were dealing with more ordinary people with average memories, trying to recall what someone said maybe two years ago? Or twenty? Or forty? Try it for yourself: pick a conversation that you had two years ago with someone – a teacher, a pastor, a boss. Do you remember it word for word? Even if you think you do (sometimes we think we do!) is there any actual evidence that you do? It is important to emphasize what experts have actually learned about memory, and distorted memories. Leading memory expert Elizabeth Loftus and her colleague Katherine Ketcham reflect on this issue: “Are we aware of our mind’s distortions of our past experiences? In most cases, the answer is no. As time goes by and the memories gradually change, we become convinced that we saw or said or did what we remember.”[5]
These comments are dealing with just our own personal memories. What about a report, by someone else, of a conversation that a third person had, written long afterwards? What are the chances that it will be accurate, word for word? Or even better, what about a report written by someone who had heard about the conversation from someone who was friends with a man whose brother’s wife had a cousin who happened to be there – a report written, say, several decades after the fact? Is it likely to record the exact words? In fact, is it likely to remember precisely even the gist? Or the topics?
Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in Matthew chapters 5-7 was recorded about fifty years after he would have delivered the sermon. But can we assume he delivered it? If he did so, did he speak the specific words now found in the Sermon (all three chapters of them) while sitting on a mountain addressing the crowds? On that occasion did he really say, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven,” and “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves,” and “Everyone who hears these words of mind and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on a rock”? Or did he say things sort of like that on the occasion? Or did he say something sort of like that on some other occasion – any occasion at all? Which is the gist and which is the detail?[6]
Or what about episodes from Jesus’ life, recorded, say, forty years later? Was Jesus crucified between two robbers who both mocked him before he died six hours later? Are those details correct? Or is the gist correct? But what is the gist? Is it that Jesus was crucified with two robbers? Is it that Jesus was crucified? Is it that Jesus died?
[1] Ulric Neisser, “John Dean’s Memory: A Case Study,” Cognition 9 (1981) 1-22.
[2] “John Dean’s Memory,” p. 9. Italics his.
[3] “John Dean’s Memory,” p. 10
[4] “John Dean’s Memory,” p. 13.
[5] Elizaeth Loftus and Katherine Ketcham, Witness for the Defense: The Accused, the eyewitness, and the Expert who Puts Memory on Trial (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991), p. 20.
[6] See my discussion of the sermon on pp. xxx.
Eyewitness Testimony: The Importance of Actual Expertise
Here’s the link to this article by Bart Ehrman.
June 7, 2023
It is flat-out amazing to me how many New Testament scholars talk about the importance of eyewitness testimony to the life of Jesus without having read a single piece of scholarship on what experts know about eyewitness testimony. Some (well-known) scholars in recent years have written entire books on the topic, basing their views on an exceedingly paltry amount of research into the matter. Quite astounding, really. But they appear to have gone into their work confident that they know about how eyewitness testimony works, and didn’t read the masses of scholarship that shows they simply aren’t right about it.
Here’s how I begin to talk about eyewitness scholarship in my book Jesus Before the Gospels (HarperOne, 2016).
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In the history of memory studies an important event occurred in 1902.[1] In Berlin, a well-known criminologist named von Liszt was delivering a lecture when an argument broke out. One student stood up and shouted that he wanted to show how the topic was related to Christian ethics. Another got up and yelled that he would not put up with that. The first one replied that he had been insulted. A fight ensued and a gun was drawn. Prof. Liszt tried to separate the two when the gun went off.
The rest of the students were aghast. But Prof. von Liszt informed them that the event had been staged.
He chose a group of the students to write down an exact account of what they had just seen. The next day, other students were instructed to write down what they recalled, others a week later. The results of these written reports were surprising and eye-opening. This was one of the first empirical studies of eyewitness testimony.
Prof. Liszt broke down the sequence of events, which had been carefully planned in advance, into a number of stages. He then calculated how accurately the students reported the sequence, step-by-step. The most accurate accounts were in error in 26% of the details the reported. Others were in error in as many as 80%.
As you might expect, research on the reliability of eyewitness testimony has developed significantly over the years since this first rather crude attempt to establish whether it can be trusted to be reliable. Scholarship in the field has avalanched in recent decades. But the findings are consistent in one particularly important respect. A report is not necessarily accurate because it is delivered by an eyewitness. On the contrary, eyewitnesses are notoriously inaccurate.
There have been many books written about whether the Gospels were written by eyewitnesses or by authors relying on eyewitnesses. Some of these books are written by very smart people. It is very odd indeed that many of them do not appear to be particularly concerned with knowing what experts have told us about eyewitness testimony.[2]
This chapter is focused on two questions. Are the Gospels based on stories about Jesus that had been passed around, changed, and possibly invented by Christian storytellers for decades before being written down, or were they written by eyewitnesses? If they were written by eyewitnesses , would that guarantee their essential accuracy? We will deal with the second question first.
Research on Eyewitness Testimony
Psychological studies of eyewitness testimony began to proliferate in the 1980s, in part because of two important phenomena related to criminal investigations. The first is that people started recalling ugly, painful, and criminal instances of sexual abuse when they were children.[3] These recollections typically surfaced during the process of therapy, especially under hypnosis. Both those who suddenly remembered these instances and the therapists treating them often maintained that these repressed memories explained why the patients had experienced subsequent psychological damage. Some of these reports involved incest committed by relatives, especially parents; others involved abuse by other adults, for example in child care centers. As reports of such memories began to proliferate, some psychologists started to wonder if they could all be true. Some were obviously real memories of real events. But was it possible that others were not true memories at all, but false memories that had been unconsciously implanted during the process of therapy? It turns out that the answer is a resounding yes, which creates enormous complexities and problems for all parties: the victim or alleged victim, the therapist, the accused adults, and the judges and juries of the legal system.
The other phenomenon involved the use of DNA evidence to overturn criminal convictions. Once DNA became a reliable indicator of an accused person’s direct involvement in serious crimes, such as murder or rape, a large number of previous convictions were brought back for reconsideration. Numerous convictions were overturned. As Harvard psychologist Daniel Schacter has recently indicated, in about 75% of these reversed judgments, the person charged with the crime was convicted solely on the basis of eyewitness testimony.[4] What is one to make of such findings? In the words of a seminal article in the field: “Reports by eyewitnesses are among the most important types of evidence in criminal as well as in civil law cases… It is therefore disturbing that such testimony is often inaccurate or even entirely wrong.”[5]
This particular indictment emerged out of a study unrelated to DNA evidence. It involves an interesting but tragic case. On October 4, 1992, an El Al Boeing 707 that had just taken off from Schipfol Airport in Amsterdam lost power in two engines. The pilot tried to return to the airport but couldn’t make it. The plane crashed into an eleven-story apartment building in the Amsterdam suburb of Bijlmermeer. The four crew members and thirty-nine people in the building were killed. The crash was, understandably, the leading news story in the Netherlands for days.
Ten months later, in August 1993, Dutch psychology professor Hans Crombag and two colleagues gave a survey to 193 university professors, staff, and students in the country. Among the questions was the following: “Did you see the television film of the moment the plane hit the apartment building?” In their responses 107 of those surveyed (55%) said Yes, they had seen the film. Sometime later the researchers gave a similar survey with the same question to 93 law school students. In this instance, 62 (66%) of the respondents indicated that they had seen the film. There was just one problem. There was no film.
These striking results obviously puzzled the researchers, in part because basic common sense should have told anyone that there could not have been a film. Remember, this is 1992, before cell phone cameras. The only way to have a film of the event would have been for a television camera crew to have trained a camera on this particular apartment building in a suburb of Amsterdam at this exact time, in expectation of an imminent crash. And yet, between half and two-thirds of the people surveyed – most of them graduate students and professors – indicated they had seen the non-existent film. Why would they think they had seen something that didn’t exist?
Even more puzzling were the detailed answers that some of those interviewed said about what they actually saw on the film, for example, whether the plane crashed into the building horizontally or at vertical and whether the fire caused by the plane started at impact or only later. None of that information could have been known from a film, because there was no film. So why did these people remember, not only seeing the crash but also details about how it happened and what happened immediately afterward?
Obviously they were imagining it, based on logical inferences (the fire must have started right away) and on what they had been told by others (the plane crashed into the building as it was heading straight down). The psychologists argued that these people’s imaginations became so vivid, and were repeated so many times, that they eventually did not realize they were imagining something. They thought they were remembering it. They really thought that. In fact they did remember it. But it was a false memory. Not just a false memory one of them had. A false memory most of them had.
The researchers concluded: “It is difficult for us to distinguish between what we have actually witnessed, and what common sense inference tells us that must also have been the case.” In fact, commonsense inference, along with information we get by hearsay from others, together “conspire in distorting an eyewitness’s memory.” Indeed “this is particularly easy when, as in our studies, the event is of a highly dramatic nature, which almost by necessity evokes strong and detailed visual imagery.”[6]
The witnesses to the life of Jesus certainly were recalling events “of a highly dramatic nature” – Jesus’ walking on the water, calming the storm with a word, casting out a demon, raising a young girl back to life. Moreover, these stories certainly evoked “strong and detailed visual imagery.” Even if such stories were told by eyewitnesses, could we trust that they were necessarily accurate memories?
[1] This episode is recounted in Elizabeth F. Loftus, Eyewitness Testimony, 2nd ed. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 1996) pp. 20-21.
[2] The best known and very large study is Richard Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006).
[3] See Richard J. McNally, Remembering Trauma (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 2003).
[4] Daniel L. Schacter, “Constructive Memory: Past and Future,” Dialogues in Clinical Neuroscience 14 (2012) 7-18.
[5] Hans F. M. Crombag, Willem A. Wagenaar, Peter J. Van Koppen, “Crashing Memories and the Problem of ‘Source Monitoring,’” Applied Cognitive Psychology 1 (1996) p. 95.
[6] “Crashing Memories,” p. 103.
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