The dangers of religious moderatism have been addressed elsewhere by other writers, namely Sam Harris, in so pithy a manner that I should not have to elaborate on the topic further than to state the mere obvious. It is a strange circumstance that one who claims himself to strive simply after Christ’s message of love and good conduct should feel the need to attach himself to a label which is so vile and spoilt as Christianity is. It is of an even stranger circumstance that he should wish to do so in the knowledge that his adherence to such a common label is what enables fundamentalists to hide or thrive in the shadow of his numbered existence. Moderates and fundamentalists alike endeavour to defend their label; however, these labels carry very different meanings and so have very different implications altogether.  In the case of the moderate the label implies a system which is less dogmatic and more practical to the moral conduct of his daily life. To the fundamentalist it involves imposing his religious values upon those which do not wish to conform to his dogmatically-informed expectations, often through the democratising or manipulation of law. Yet the fundamentalist position is more Christian in the sense that it more truthfully adheres to the values as espoused in the Bible, some of which are so vivid in meaning and intent that they can hardly be said to be open to any kind of secondary interpretation on the reader’s own part.

To ensconce in a single doctrinal label in pursuit of moral excellence is to insist satisfaction or complacency in the idea of being restricted to that one particular worldview and that alone. The fact remains that one should never need  to consider oneself a Christian in order to be able to appreciate the worthy lessons as can be derived from the exemplary life of Christ. Any person who is sincerely interested in moral pursuits would surely know to select his morality from a multitude of sources, rather than from one. Moreover, to adhere to a tailor-made version of Christianity is to willingly participate in a corrupt enterprise in the full knowledge of its vilest crimes against humanity. A mind vested in the interest of moral goodness should feel it almost an obligation to stand up against any doctrine which has so repeatedly exposed its truest colours from since the time of its earliest inception. To do otherwise is to play blind, to turn the other cheek, or to refuse to speak up for oneself in the spirit of what one feels or knows is right. The parable of sheep and goats surmounts to a create a doctrine premised in fear — and to produce followers who are unwilling to stand upright on their own feet in the fear of eternal punishment. Religion survives for the sole reason that it continues to attract a sufficient multitude of followers who, in their numbers, rally to justify its make-believe significance. The commonest weapon it employs is Fear, and Fear binds the moderate and the fundamentalist as one.

• Those who have had no reason to question their faith;
• And those who have had too many reasons not to.

Let it be stated that following the premise that God exists no wayward pathway could lead one to atheism, except to a state of rejection or a refusal to submit to said deity. From the Christian point of view this entails a refusal to consider oneself as being owned by any higher being, in this instance Yahweh. The concept that because God created us therefore he owns us is first to be challenged. If scientists recreated life in the lab, do they by sole virtue of creation “own” that living being as to be allowed to do anything they like with it, or do we have certain ethical standards to direct us to the conclusion that ownership of any living object does not entail full authority over its well-being? The question of ownership is not a simple one and there are fundamental issues as to what it even means to “own” or “possess” something. A pet-owner who abuses his pet is not worthy of said ownership, and can have his ownership revoked. But since there is presumably no authority over God it is not likely that any desire to countermand his ownership of us can be brought to fruition. However, this does not negate the fact that any particular being can be unworthy by our standards to assume a role of ownership or authority. The importance of allowing ourselves the integrity to make moral judgments is not always appreciated by members of a religious order. The unquestionable primacy assigned to god-given moral codes such as the Ten Commandments is evidence in this regard. However, it is provable that even the most pious of men constantly impose their own moral judgments in their interpretation of holy texts. Taking the same kinds of liberty as exhibited in those cherry-picking from the Bible into the construct of our own sagacity of judgment, the idea of questioning even God’s own moral compass becomes hardly far-fetched. Following this line of argument, the  premise that God is all-perfect or that everything he does is in reflection of this perfection falls quickly into doubt. Our god-given ability to hold our own opinions allows us the benefit of this doubt. That the Creator is all-perfect becomes rather a conclusion derived from that primary theistic premise than it is part of the premise itself.

Thus the antagonistic theist must wrestle with what God thinks is good and what he himself knows is good. Even presupposing the assumption that God exists, I hope that I have demonstrated that the issue of morality is still not a given. If there is an objective morality under which we are told to operate, our free will grants us the right to oppose it. Whatever we proceed to concoct in the negligence of God’s orders is product of the exercise of our own free will, and as we know the consequence of which could further dictate the exact realm in which we will be spending the afterlife. But this is to point out that to accept that the Christian God exists due to whatever wealth of evidence there is in his favour does not imply that we must surrender any kind of moral bearing which is central to all human relations. The idea that there is an objective moral code does not imply that the code is morally coherent by our human standards. That we assume “God works in mysterious ways” is testament to the fact that we are sometimes unable to justify God’s methods in the light of our own. This incompatibility is crucial in Christian theology as it accommodates a metaphorical leap of faith, that is to say, a person must suspend his humanistic reasoning in pursuit of a higher ideal which is morally questionable even granted the fact that it were objectively true.

The occupation of being a Christian is not one of merely an acceptance of the existence of God but rather an affiliation to the ethical codes which constitute a Christian way of life. The idea of allowing Jesus to enter through the threshold of your heart is dissimilar from that of just acknowledging that he existed and was/is the son of God, and leaving it simply at that. Given that there is overwhelming evidence with which to verify the credibility of the story of Christ or even the existence of a prime mover of the universe, the idea that one should thus convert to a Christian way of life seems logical, but it isn’t. Logic is a human construct and if we are to adhere to our logical side we may as well go the extra mile and follow our own subjective codes of morality, which were also founded upon the very same processes of rational thinking.

A German soldier’s realisation that Hitler exists and has risen to a position of seemingly unquestionable authority does not imply that he must abandon his humanity and subscribe forthwith to Nazi values. These are separate facets requiring different lines of reasoning, and one need not logically necessitate the other. If you are a Christian for the fact that you think there is overwhelming evidence in favour of the doctrine, you are by no means exempt from having to question the moral implications of worshipping a god whom history recalls as violent, jealous and hateful. Your free will exists to be utilised, and it does not end at the moment you have decided beyond any reasonable doubt that God is real. To claim your position as having been logically confronted and then to suspend your criticality when it comes to the question of god-inspired morality, saying that “God works in ways not foreseeable by man”, is to be intellectually dishonest, if not a hypocrite. Those who call themselves Christians and yet still doubt the Creator on these moral grounds are simply exercising their own god-given free will, and “true” Christians who prefer dishonesty ought not despair nor accuse their comrades of bringing a spirit of healthy scepticism into a doctrine which callously breeds and feeds on the lack thereof.

It began as a joke that got taken slightly too seriously.

But you be the judge, yeah?

A cardboard cathedral will be built in the New Zealand city of Christchurch to temporarily replace the one damaged by the 2011 earthquake, officials say.

The 25-metre-high NZ$5m ($4.1m, £2.6m) cardboard version, to rise close to the quake-damaged cathedral, is to be completed in December.

Christchurch cathedral itself is to be demolished after it was deemed beyond repair.

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Here’s a snapshot of the homepage from 2011 via the Internet Wayback Machine.

]]> http://timcooley.net/2012/03/18/timcooley-net-is-changing/feed/ 0 TimCooley.net is Changing Tim Cooley As of last year. http://timcooley.net/2012/03/17/senility/ http://timcooley.net/2012/03/17/senility/#comments Sat, 17 Mar 2012 20:48:57 +0000 Tim http://timcooley.net/?p=4981 ]]> First pot. Now this!!!!

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Edit: New link

It is difficult for me to re-live the scenes of February 2011. This programme was broadcast shortly after the earthquake, and we watched it air whilst the threat of aftershocks was still ever present.

I worry that, regardless of their liking, many people will be urged today to revisit these trying moments of the yesteryear, and I know that it is never a comfortable feeling to have to commemorate the memory of a loved one or even to contemplate that of total strangers with whom you may have crossed paths once, or twice, or never.

But if the events of February 2011 have taught us anything, it was that there are no strangers in Christchurch, or indeed anywhere in this world.  Amid the ashes of any given tragedy, it seems we are all united by a common urge to show love, to receive kindness and to reciprocate compassion.  Humanity is strange in the way that it never really learns to value things before they are gone.  We never realise what we do or say until damage has already been done, only to regret it later when it’s too late — as if to salvage broken artifacts from the rubble of their stores and repositories of foregone times.

The 2011 earthquake, amongst other things, has left me pondering the delicate fragility of life, and it has taught me to live life as if this day were my very last.  I had a brush with what could have been a potentially fatal injury that day — and am indebted to sheer luck to have escaped relatively and physically unscathed.

There will be others whose suffering I cannot bear to comprehend, nor pretend to understand.  My heart and thoughts go out to those who are bereft of their loved ones or have suffered loss in any other way.  Today will no doubt be a difficult day for many Cantabrians, but as always we will continue to put one foot in front of the other, and more importantly we will do so knowing that we are in the company of our good neighbours, colleagues, siblings, parents, spouses, strangers and friends.

Just this week, I have been the leader of two Bible groups for kids and teenagers, reading mainly from the book of Acts and Mark’s Gospel.

It was a task which I had no prior intention of undertaking, and would abhor if it ever were forced upon me, but under the strangest of circumstances I did find myself agreeing to it, and thinking that the children would somehow be better off, so long as I was there to suffer it with them.

Turns out I was wrong.

On both these occasions, I spent most of my time sitting with the kids whilst my faithful friends stood up front, reciting, if you will, the holy messages of God.   For two hours I was in silent protest against practically everything they did or said, so much so that it disgusted me to the pit of my stomach, that by the time it was my turn to finally speak, I had already felt so disconnected from the whole of humanity that I was sensing a certain numbness falling over my entire body.

The feeling of being the only nonbeliever in any particular room at any particular time is something I am and should be well-accustomed to, but it was the reality of sitting amongst impregnable children who were trapped under the spell of indoctrination carried out by teenagers who had been indoctrinated as children themselves that sickened me to the very core.  If I had a gun, truth be told, I would have blown first my own head off, and then everyone else’s in that room who I thought was, in any way and shape and form, responsible for this unforgivable act of mental cruelty and abuse.

Of course, son.

But first, will you promise not to be angry?

I won’t be angry.

Dad… I don’t think I’m a Christian anymore.  It’s just that… I don’t believe in God anymore.

What makes you say that, son?

Well, I’ve been doing a lot of studying and thinking for myself, Dad… and… I don’t know.  It’s just that I don’t think there is any evidence to support the claims of the church, much less the existence of an all-loving and omnipotent god.

And… how long have you been a nonbeliever?

About five years, Dad.

Five years?!  And all this time you’ve been going to church every week — you’ve never thought perhaps you should tell us?

I wanted to, Dad.  But I didn’t want to upset you.

Upset me?

Yes.  I didn’t want you or Mum to worry.

Why should we be worried?

Because you’ve always wanted me to be a good Christian.

Is that what you think, son?

Yes.  I suppose so.

Son, all your mother and I ever wanted was for you to be a good person.  You can believe whatever you want, so long as you’ve thought it through properly… we would be happy for you, and would always love you.

Really, Dad?

No. Get the fuck out of the house, you fucking heathen.

The Bishop of Tenerife provided an interesting explanation for the vast numbers of children raped by Catholic priests: They asked for it.

In 2007, when the American Catholic Church was reeling from sex abuse scandals but not so much Europe, the Bishop of Tenerife, Bernardo Álvarez, made some interesting Christmas holiday comments.

In a Christmas Eve interview with La Opinión de Tenerife, Bishop Alvarez said that there are children who want to be abused:

“There are 13 year old adolescents who are under age and who are perfectly in agreement with, and what’s more wanting it, and if you are careless they will even provoke you.”

Old news, but read more at Secular News Daily.

Case. Meet Rest.

Thought I’d share this old recording I recovered of me playing the famous Intermezzo by Brahms!

An Intermezzo is a:

a term used since the early 19th century for movements or sections, generally within larger works; also for independent pieces, often for piano solo and predominantly lyrical in character.

via LOL Happens