Speaker A
God, in the Christian understanding, is a personal God whose aim and reason for creating the universe is to allow human beings—some would say coerce human beings—into a relationship with him. If that's the goal, if that's the desire, then it seems strange to me that some people are given an easy ride in this respect. They either get some form of religious experience, perhaps they receive a prophecy, perhaps they even get to meet the risen Christ himself, but not me, not my friends, not people that I know, probably not yourself. I don't know. You may have had a religious experience in your life, but I'm not sure that you've met Jesus, and you know the way in which I mean that. Um, in which case there seems to be a sort of crude element of favoritism going on. If not favoritism, then experiences granted to others that, if granted to me, would allow me to be in a position or compel me to be in a position to inherit eternal life that I'm not receiving through no fault of my own. And yet this could be the deciding factor as to my eternal fate. This seems unfair, for a start. And that's one of the atheist's main gripes: unfairness. This seems unfair. It's unfair that people suffer. It's unfair that religious belief is scattered in unpredictable ways. And I'm not among the favored, the elect. Um, this is, I think, probably the principal emotion behind the power of this argument and why people so often refer to it: it seems unfair. And if, you know, if God is anything, it seems he must be fair. Um, I mean, I don't know if you'd agree with that. I imagine that you would agree that God would be fair, but that, I think, puts you in a position of having to defend the fairness or having to believe that there is, in principle, a defense of the fairness of the kind of distribution that I've described. Um, yeah, I don't know if I would say that God is fair. Um, insofar as, you know, our paradigm for fairness is based on a human expression of justice. Yeah. And in justice, you're rendering to another what is his due, but you're doing so according to a standard of equality, which equality can't really be grounded in our relationship to God. And that doesn't mean to say that he floats free of all morality. It's just that he is subsisting, you know, morality in a certain sense, insofar as I would say that there's a nonparallelism between God's relationship to us and our relationship to God. And I think that's part of—yeah, there are a lot of interrelated things that I'm going to get too excited about and talk too fast about. Deep breath. Um, so with respect to the doctrine of creation, um, I think that one, the relation of creation and then the, you know, as it were, goal of creation, and here I'm relying on revelation. I'm not smart enough to figure this out. So, um, that it's a kind of dependence of all things upon God, and that's the heart of the matter: that everything that is is by God's gift. And so this note of gratuitousness enters at the outset so that none of us are due anything because it could have been otherwise, and it could not have been. And as a result of which, what we have, what we have come to possess in time, is God's gift, but that it's earmarked for glory or that it's earmarked for a return to God. And I think part of the complexity and subtlety of the divine plan is, regardless of the gifts that are apportioned in the natural order, that there are further gifts in store in the supernatural order which are not directly correlated with those of the natural order. So, like, for instance, St. Teresa of Lisieux, you know, who lived in the late 19th century. She dies of tuberculosis at the age of 24, but she has these wild insights into the divine mercy or these wild insights into the divine condescension which, in a certain sense, catapult her beyond the limitations of body and soul while still retaining a kind of organic connection with her personality and with her history. And so I think that God is bringing about a certain differentiation in creation because he's not motivated by a bland equality, because in a certain sense—and I don't pretend to know the mind of God—but in a certain sense, he says to himself, um, in the differentiation of creation, my divine life, which is, yeah, ineffable, the depths of which are unsoundable, stands a better chance at captivating or capturing the attention of creatures because, on account of the fact that I am infinite, you know, a kind of wellspring of divine abundance. No one created thing can express that sufficiently. And so he expends himself in creation, saying it differently with the intent that both in its being and acting and in the ultimate orientation of its being and acting to God, that you see both in the creature and in the ecosystematic harmony of the creatures taken as a whole or taken as a universe, right? Something more that God, as it were, hides both in the things and then in their relations as a way by which to afford us further opportunities for noticing. But I've been talking too long. Well, um, I want to understand the relevance of this to the experience of saying, look, I'm somebody who maybe used to be a new atheist saying that God is some celestial dictator. Maybe he is a celestial dictator, but I think maybe the celestial part sort of undermines the badness of the dictator part. Who knows? Um, but, you know, you shake that off and you say, "Okay, look, religion isn't all evil. Um, heaven isn't some kind of North Korea. It's actually a quite pleasurable sounding experience. Um, if there are such things as sort of moral truths, then I want to apprehend and follow them. And I want to worship that, that which deserves to be worshipped. And I want to see my family, friends again. The whole works. I'm just not convinced. I just don't think it's true. I've listened to arguments and maybe I've had an irrational response to them, but I've tried my best. And, you know, if I'm limited only by my cognitive capacity, then I can hardly be blamed for that. Maybe I should have tried harder in school, but that seems like quite a loose basis on which to balance my soul for eternity. And I think that in itself would be something of a problem of evil, one of the many problems of evil. Um, okay. So, here's the situation that I'm in, and this is the situation that many people are in, and it may not be the case that I'm truly seeking properly. It may be that I'm what Shelonburg has called a resistant non-believer. That is, you're a person who sort of has some kind of proactive defensiveness. And this is certainly true of many people, but so long as there is a single example, it doesn't have to be me, as somebody who sincerely seeks but doesn't find an answer, then what I'm looking for, I suppose, is either an explanation for that, an explanation of that experience, some kind of second-order explanation which makes that not a problem to worry about, or itself what I'm doing wrong so as not to experience that. A question that I often ask is what you would do if you woke up tomorrow, sort of in my mind, as it were. You just found yourself convinced that the arguments don't run anymore in the way that you're sort of—you've heard about conspiracy theories that the moon landing was fake, but you just sort of intuitively think it's ridiculous. And even if you start to look into them a bit, you think, "No, there's no way these are true." And if somehow the eternity of your soul was balanced upon, was predicated upon you accepting that the moon landing didn't occur. And I'm not trying to say that the arguments for God are of the same caliber, but by analogy, something that, look, arguments do exist and they're discussed ad nauseam on the internet, but when you listen to them, you don't get to choose not to be convinced by them. You're just not. If that's the case, I ask if you found yourself in that situation, what would you change? What is it, in other words, that I might be doing wrong?