On Agnosticism

Pascal aimed to show how, all things considered, people should believe in God based on the possible pros (eternal bliss) versus the possible cons (eternal suffering). But he begged the question, which God or gods? What about the other possible standards of God or the gods? What if God banishes everyone who believes in him to hell? Sure there is no proof that God would do this, but is there proof that he’d send anyone to hell? Is there proof in Hell? The tangible aspect to all these questions is how their answers will affect our lives on Earth. Will my belief in God limit me to marital sex? Will my uncertainty drive me insane? Will my lack in belief in God ruin me of morality? Morality seems to be the biggest issue at hand.

If two people lived the exact same objectively moral lives, one of them believed in God, one of them didn’t, would God send the disbeliever to hell? Obviously one’s own religious background might force there answer, but if the question of God is actually on the table, the answer seems to favor “no.”

People often try to use the theory of evolution to refute the idea of God, but it still seems possible that some being initiated the evolutionary process (I believe this is a form of Deism). The fact remains, that with or without God, we are here in the universe that is currently best explained (in terms of usefulness and explanatory power) via such theories as evolution. Whether the principles and laws that guide these theories are dependent or independent on God are, for us, irrelevant to our moral actions. Answering whether or not God does or does not exist is not required to answer the question of whether murder or theft is wrong. In other words, people can try and be the best people they can be regardless of their belief or lack of belief in God. Either way, decisions should be formulated based on this world, because this world is either all there is or (in any relevant sense) this world is reflective of its creator, God.

On God and religion #3

Whether or not it is true that a being (or beings) created life as we know it seems more than a frivolous question. Like any other ontological claim, we need to look at the evidence in favor of the existence of that being, a.k.a. God (for the sake of simplicity, let’s call all understandings of a higher power or powers God). Some will argue that all you need to do is open your eyes to see proof (proof everywhere), while others will argue that all you need to do is close them and look inward. To speak as safely as possible, I can only refer to my own experience. This is to keep in mind the possibility of those who believe they have or even have experienced a “miracle.” I was raised Catholic and for a large portion of my life believed in, prayed to, and more or less, worshipped God. The evidence for me was extrinsic and intrinsic. The complexities and logical order of the world seemed to necessitate His (Catholic God) existence, and moments by myself or in reflection seemed anything but alone. The feeling, perhaps, is evidence; this much I don’t care to challenge here. However, my explanation of that feeling was the result of my environment, my catholic upbringing. In a different upbringing my feeling might have been explained via another deity, deities, or perhaps, left unexplained. This is not frivolous seeing as how God is often invoked as a moral compass—indeed that was His role in my childhood. But the specifics of this role, what is or isn’t objectively moral, are far from casually linked to that feeling. What about that feeling would point me deductively to the Qur’an or the Torah or the New Testament? Should we deduce from this that God is a figment of our imaginations? That would seem to be reaching equally as far as inferring that God is Mormon, Male or Female.

On God and Religion #2

Free-write #2 (copied directly from my notes)

Disclaimer: the narrator is not supposed to represent my own views.

Eulogy 7

Allow me to be blunt: we’re all going to hell. No one denies this—no one whose words match their inner thoughts. It’s considered as much a maxim as self-consciousness and gravity—a constant, albeit much more harrowing, presence. And who’s to blame for this is no secret—hence our guilt. Whereas Jesus placed himself on the cross with knowing intent, we manage the same end while stumbling—no matter which direction we choose to fall, we fall. Some of the greatest amongst us have recognized such helpless foolishness for what it is, and promptly took their own lives. Is this what is to be done? Should we eradicate ourselves from this tragic comedy?

I am much more optimistic. I propose the opposite—at least at present. “Go forth and multiply.” Kind words to the damned—advice to the addicted, to those whose sin is combined, necessarily, with any and all action, to us (you, the reader, and me—Hello). Allow yourselves your carnal pleasure. I would say that it is your “duty,” but it is usually the case that such sinners don’t speak in such terms honestly (perhaps I am no exception, but it is no matter). Nonetheless, I will explain the benefits to others, the only “others” worth mentioning in conversations of moral possibility (there is no need to explain the benefits to you). As agreed upon, we, to put it in maximal clarity and eloquence, are fucked. Enjoy this time now, it will be a forgotten dream in the flames of where we might as well call home. And what better way to spend our time, then in the arms of those who share our fate—we are brethren of our own unique order—such “incestuousness” is not only fitting, but a beauty home only to the human condition—a soft note in an orchestra of screams. The goal then is to live as only we know how: for the moment (present and on Earth). To procreate. The question I’m sure you are asking now is: Why bring more to the inferno—more goats to the slaughter?

But, alas, the issue; the difference between us and them—the lost and the new, the innocent. Where our souls have been lost to the selfishness required for self-sustainability in this world, they are more equipped for the next—helpless, meek, and purely ignorant. The fall of man was not born from innocence, but from the defiance of God’s will, a will enumerated beyond our comprehension (the 6## of laws of the Torah, the subjectively vague laws of the New Testament). The longer you live, the greater the chance of breaking one (let’s be honest, most of those laws). The longer you live, the greater the chance (let’s be honest, the inevitable) of breaking God’s will. Your extended life leads to the breaking of God’s will. The death of a child is no such impeachment. The death of a child is a direct pass to heaven—a get out of jail free card—a passing grade without taking the test—“Suffer the children;” don’t let your jealousy stand in the way.

To kill a child is without a doubt in direct conflict with God’s law—“Though shall not kill.” But, have we not agreed—are we not already fated to the torments, rather justices, of damnation? Let me speak to the child in you, the wishful thinking that imagines a lack of consequences, that denies cause and effect; imagine that we are not sentenced to death, and that for each of us there is still hope for salvation. It is now that I will show you what it means to be Christian. Whether you are reading this in its original form, the note in the crib where I left it, or in the police station, in the local newspaper, or on the internet, it is no question that I have sealed my fate in hell—you see we agree: I am sick, and justice should bring me crippling pain for no other reason than to bring feelings of security to the innocent (unfortunately, you are no innocent). Here is the disagreement: where you see wasteful murder, I see the embodiment of human’s greatest capacity for good, sacrifice (of course the greatest human good would require bloodshed and vanity; we are not ideals, we are human—a moment in space and time, objectively different from the perceptions of all angles). I am not speaking of the sacrifice of #7’s life for my faith or beliefs, but of my soul for his. Why this note now? I must admit, I am partial to symbols and metaphors. Jesus’ number is 7 and as he came known as a man he left known as God. And ever since then (#years) we have been awed by his indirect image—years, decades, over a millennium apart. Imagine the awe in person. #7 did not know of Jesus in this life, but he knows Jesus now (admittedly, I will not hide my jealousness). Do not pity that whose very being is now greater than you or I. As Jesus, he came as a potential sinner and left a god (unlike Jesus, there were six gods behind him). When does “life” start? This is no matter. When does sin become essential/inescapable? When is accountability viable? Destroy before this moment and you, the flaw of Earth, will have done something right. (What do you have to lose? Your soul? My friend, whose consciousness is the cause of my grievances, we both know it is already lost.) Forgive this Polemic. Allow me to explain.

We are told to be like Jesus—the innocent Son of man whose relevancy relies on his murder for the souls of others. The principle: sacrifice for others. Indeed many do try to live for this principle. Unfortunately, there is a hole in this attempt at the Christ-like-action—as many famous skeptics excitedly exclaim (despite the fact that their argument successfully brings light to their own waiting flames). The motivation is no, at base, for others, but for the promises of the everlasting gems of heaven: sacrifice today and see the benefits in death. Selfishness, if not more selfish than self-preservation in life, for its unreasonableness, its hidden premises (from others and oneself), and the quality and quantity of the aim (EVERLASTING LIFE!). Whereas Jesus had nothing to gain in death (his soul secure), we did and human attempts to mirror this activity have thus far been inherently faulty and meager—inescapable selfishness (I will explain how I am no different and why, in my case, it is no matter). No one attempts to claim that good works (obviously combined with sin) in one’s life justifies heaven or even not hell. Why live under the unspoken falsity that it does? I have my theories (cowardice being a front-runner), but they aren’t incredibly relevant at the moment). What is relevant? The inescapable presence of self-interest for one’s soul. “But we are not Christ!” you exclaim. Correct, the obligation to be “Christ-like” does not mean to be Christ. But note what has thusly been ignored: the distinction also shows how Christ’s actions, since He is essentially different, should not be held at the highest standard, that is, the ceiling. Jesus did the greatest action within His context. The greatest action of our context demands more than life, our souls. Ask yourself who has earned their rights in heaven with certainty?

Your hesitation is telling. What could better epitomize the principle of being Christ-like, self-sacrifice, than giving up the possibility (however fleeting) of the greatest imaginable end (EVERLASTING LIFE!) for another? But how can we know the cost of our soul could save another’s?

Jesus came and opened the gates of heaven for those who did not know him—are our children not given the same expectation? Think of others; the cost of our own souls should not be a wall to thought and options. But isn’t it possible for the child to grow up without sin? Do not the laws of probability somewhat demand this? Perhaps, but it is clear now that we are speaking of anomalies. The reward is the same for the worthy, we should not risk the greatest end when we do not have to.

I, like you, am the scum of creation; a one-time beauty allowed to rot in the imperfections of the human mind: I should not hide an interior motive as if this were not the case. The hope: perhaps there is room in heaven for a spiritual martyr. Clearly I am not following the laws of man; even clearer, I am not following the laws ordained for this land by God: Though shall not kill? But why? Why not? The call demand comes as a threat to the offender: OR ELSE! But, as a Christian, what should I care for me? That is the noblest principal: care not for you. I face the OR ELSE knowingly. But let’s be honest; we both know we all face the flames regardless of infanticide. Yes; but now, they shall not. Why? Because of me, and I have no doubts that when I face my final sentence, it shall be multiplied for every fated soul I stole from Satan’s grasp. I shall face my sins and what would have been there’s; the devil thinks not of justice but of vindictive revenge. Perhaps this defiance shall be recognized with the greatest gift of heaven… perhaps not. Behold my ever-present vanity. But it is no matter, to heaven they shall go. “If God is not good by the same token as I will call my brethren good, then to hell I shall go” and go regardless.

Do you doubt my Christianity? Read the Scripture; you will find no contradictions. In the days of early Christianity, they were slandered to have committed ritual infanticide. If only they had, and a thousands souls be saved. “Christians” have thus for protested abortion and women who have had them. But it is not their faces that deserve spit, but your mothers’, and theirs, and mine. But expect it back with due justice—the price of ignorance is a growing debt we will never fully pay nor flames escape.

If I shall fail in persuasion and fall a criminal, let them not call me a lunatic. Let them call me a Christian, and finally, recognize what that means. The advocation of neither “pro-choice” nor “pro-life,” but staunchly and reverently PRO-ABORTIONIST, that is Christ-like, that is Christian.

-The Anabaptizer

On God and Religion #1

The next three posts will be on God and religion. The first two posts (including this one) are “stories” I wrote while “free-writing” in other classes (admittedly, I should have been paying attention to class). I believe that these stories reflect my views on both God and religion. The third post will be a more direct explanation of my views.

Free-write #1 (copied directly from my notes)

The Observer

I have lived my life for a quiet observer. In fact, the observer is completely silent, perhaps even mute. And yet even now in apparent reality, apparent silence, I cannot but escape the anxiety of waiting for a voice or sound, and no matter what volume it may come, it would, no doubt, have any other impact upon me if it were a shout or a scream. And while I cannot say that I have felt this observer, and by this I mean the observer’s presence or anything that it may cause, this alone may show evidence for the case that I may know nothing but the feeling. A proper description of this feeling (in its entirety) escapes me, but I may be capable of some loose success of communication.

It is as if my life is a stage, and my consciousness the performer, but the performance remains unclear, at least equivocal and at times blatantly deceiving. And accompanying me upon that stage are my, apparent, tools to perform: an automobile and the various settings or sets. This automobile may drive me through these sets (and by doing so, hopefully fulfilling my performance to its conclusion and to the approval of the observer) but which type of vehicle I maneuver is at times unclear. What is clear, or at least has been until my recent stage of adolescent transcendence, is that this performance doubles as a test, for my driver’s license. But what type am I going for? A? B, C, or D? What is this morality that, presumably, I should know how to not only drive sufficiently but exceptionally or at least, extraordinarily to the extent that I may boast/deserve an observer. Even now I fear a failure of my communication. I fear that my writing flow and form have now taken over the wheel from truth. But I do want truth, especially now in this time of my life, this seemingly objective form of mind: I want truth. So much so that I feel compelled to drive whichever and whatever way may best fit my settings rather than the observer.

And then I THINK. Why must these be any different? How can they? And yet my whole life I have thought that they must; even worse, I have felt that they must (still permitting and insisting the fact that I have always doubted the type of automobile at my disposal; disposal; even this word I question insofar as I have felt the disposer and the disposed); even now I struggle to acknowledge and overcome intuitions. “What are their bases?” Often the answers are parental settings or even the entire lineless stage with its congested traffic of vehicles pointing in different directions but so close that none may give way without taking it. And all including, up till now and even as my pen continues to write I have thought, “What would the observer have me do?” what rules do I follow in this task? Only recently have I even thought about what my own rules may be. Rules determined by my reason, however flawed it may be it still remains perfect in its one way path, its single road that makes all other’s unobservable. Objectively pointing to performance for the performer’s sake. And yet I cannot help but smirk and laugh as a cold uncomfortable chill seizes my frame; familiar guilt, as present as the lines just previous, in which my mind went blank and hesitated, the pistons clanking, after the word reason. Perhaps a “boo,” for I have heard how distracting an unpleased audience can be to a performer, so much so that the entire performance can be forgotten. When the audience shows that they are displeased the performer, having thought that he or she were on to something even brilliant and commendable, will rethink and doubt the performance that they were acting out in favor of their performance they have forgotten: the one that was objectively worth watching.

And so it seems that the observer makes me second-guess my path and direction until I turn the key and think again. For how else am I to fulfill this act and travel than by using what I have to set this vehicle in motion, because I cannot help but think that it is impossible for the correct performance to entail the sight of a brain-dead man who, keys in his left hand, holds his right thumb up to the audience as his own vehicle shines on display behind him. Perhaps this intuition is the one I should be fighting. The words “I don’t know my lines/(or)/my performance” would be ironic. Unless of course the audience would answer back as the observing director: “This is rehearsal, here are your stage directions…”

On “True” Love

“True love” is generally a topic I could go without, but since today is Valentine’s Day and “true love” is at its commercial peak, why not? The belief in there being one and only one person for each seems to be beyond naïve. This isn’t only for the way in which it is advertised (via unrealistic works of literature and media), or for the possibly unjustified view that the universe is structured in such a way so as to account for the love life of each person. Rather, “true love” goes against my understanding of what it means to be human. In what I’ve lived and witnessed in my life, people are not static, “characteristic” puzzle pieces that lock into one another permanently on all, if any, counts. I have been referred to as someone who “has his head on his shoulders,” who “knows who he is and what he wants,” and who “lives by a strict morality.” People, who say this of me, generally know me from my actions in some aspect during some period of time in my life. Most importantly, they don’t know my thoughts. I recognize that some of my characteristics are unfounded, built on insecurities or pure custom. Is there a “true love” for me? Doubtful.

Is there someone who is sufficient to my needs and vice versa? Probably. But, if there’s one person, why wouldn’t there be more? Are we that distinct? Are we all that unique to where being with anyone else wouldn’t work? And if a relationship does work, would the reasons it works last forever? In my personal life, I’ve seen more divorces and relationships that shouldn’t be together than I have lifelong relationships. Of the few that I have seen, they are almost entirely surviving off their comfort and lack of alternatives. I don’t mean to imply that great, long lasting relationships aren’t worth attaining, striving for, or possible. I only mean to say that the priority to find “true love” creates more problems than otherwise necessary. People engaged in relationships built upon a mutual, blind faith belief in “true love” run a higher risk of ignoring personal faults or the faults of their partner than those in relationships built upon the effort of both (or possibly many) sides. Those who believe in “true love” run the risk of “being in love with being in love” rather than their partner. The goal shouldn’t be eternity, but each step. Not everything beautiful must exist forever. Life, in fact, seems much more powerful with the acknowledgment of an end. Having the recognition that relationships can die before they actually do makes people fight to sustain it. This is opposed to waking up to the realization that you’ve committed your life to a corpse and that you know longer have the life to leave.

On the Objective

Based on my commitment to Quine’s “Web of Belief” epistemology, it might seem as though I might be committed to some sort of variation of objective truth—such as the view that truth is subjective or altogether unknowable. Some have even called it an anti-realism theory based on the fact that all beliefs require a posited theory as a foundation. The background theory, however, is still subject to everything external; I don’t think such “attacks” actually resemble the descriptions they imply. While I do believe that it is hypothetically possible for truth to be nonobjective and that it would thus be warranted to change my views on truth, I believe that experience, my own and all others I am aware of, have shown truth to be objective. Is Elvis still breathing? Did I get paid for working today? These questions have objective answers. Perhaps I don’t know the answers, perhaps no one does, but there still is an answer that represents the fact of the matter. As I have stated in previous posts, completely covering questions like this can and have filled books. I have read some answers to the contrary, and they are generally inflated, convoluted, and in the end, not incredibly moving (a strong proof would, most definitely, be moving). While I would rather have someone read the material for themselves than take my word for it, the belief in objective truth is not only intuitive, but incredibly useful. Useful doesn’t seem to do the belief justice, yet necessary would be too circular.

On Calculators

As previously stated, I believe that we are each our own centers of belief from birth. I also believe that which guides the formulation of our beliefs and actions to be an important archetype: we do what we believe is best (Socrates/Plato). The word “think” is crucial here, because it allows for error in result, in thought, and in direction. What is “best” is generally an infamously elusive fact. Nonetheless, we aim for it after a tedious intellectual struggle or whim. What we determine to be “best” is distinct from individual from individual (and often, from context to context for each particular individual). For one, the best option would be to go to University of Arizona rather than Pima. For another, the best option would be to completely cover their body in piercings and tattoos. Importantly, I am not advocating or positing moral relativism. I am merely recognizing the relatively safe conclusion that people create their own understanding of what is best. With this in mind, it may be understood that someone would act in what is commonly, if not practically universally, objectionable: a woman may steal, a man may rape, etc. etc. Such offenders may even recognize their actions as “immoral” or even, “evil,” but their words carry a different meaning: “your morality says this is wrong.” Nietzsche, for example, famously referred to himself as “evil,” immoral, and “the anti-christ.” A thief might think, or conclude via a lack of thought, that the instant gratification combined with the consequences is better than not having the gratification or the consequences.

The term “self-preseveration” is often attributed to encompass what I mean, but I think it is only a great example, rather than the word attached to my description. One’s own balancing of what is “best” is, by definition, selfish. This doesn’t mean that all actions are guided for the sake of what is commonly associated with the word “selfish.” For example, one may martyr themselves because they either believe it will get them into heaven or that they don’t wish to live in world alternative to their martyrdom. This does mean that people are inherently selfish.

On “I”

A “web of belief” presupposes a “believer,” an “I.” I think that this fact is often overlooked: without an “I,” there isn’t a web of belief (there isn’t any belief). The “I” is at its center. While it is a strength of the “web of belief” hypothesis that all views may be challenged, it isn’t clear how the belief in the existence of an “I” could ever be rationally justified, even in theory (unless of course the principle of rationality was abandoned, but those who hold such “webs” are determined to be without even a rhyme or reason to hold such a view; it’s not clear why we would give up a web of reasons for a lack thereof). Consequently, it is the “I” that should, and I think always does, take precedent over any and all other beliefs. Despite its omnipresence (wherever there is presence), what the “I” actually is, is a paradoxically elusive fact. Is it a soul? But this seems to require beliefs that extend (without clear deductive steps) far beyond the center of the web (this is a short and painfully incomplete rebuttal, but hopefully does enough to show room for doubt). Is it merely the composition of sensory information? But this also requires further beliefs, based on further evidence than merely the existence of the “I.” René Descartes famously defined the “I” as a “thinking thing.” He argued that since he thought, he is (“cognito, argo sum”), which means that he is, at least, a thing(s) that thinks. Under deep scrutiny (perhaps only undertaken by the most meticulous/boring philosophers) the argument seems to require some doctoring to arrive at what Descartes hoped it would. Ayn Rand, unfairly and out of context, chastised Descartes in getting it backwards: “I am, therefore I think.” For me, the lack of a blatant answer seems the most blatant answer: determining what the “I” is seems to be a lifelong process (probably longer, regardless of overtime). It is the subject of music, literature, and arguably all, expression. The question is empirical.

What is it to experience the “I” (to be conscious)? It often includes the experiences of thought, sight, taste, sound, smell, and touch. This however is not a clear description of what it means to be an “I.” In fact, it seems that such a description is impossible. A written and spoken description of “making love” will fail to completely express its sound to the deaf, its view to the blind, its smell to the smell-impaired, the taste to the taste-impaired, the feel to the touch-impaired, and the thoughts to the mindless [pardon the example, but it does significantly involve each sense]. Moreover, insofar as is relevant to my pursuit, the “I” involves beliefs and therefore, thought, and in practice, choice and action.