Tangents  
New
15 Apr 01
Copyright © 1997-2003 by S. A. Joyce, all rights reserved.
SPECIAL RESTRICTIONS APPLY.
Edited
16 Sep 01


This is an Internet adaptation of a chapter of an as-yet unpublished book.


Curiosities
a compilation of the author's impressions of assorted attitudes and events

Though many atheists are inclined to dismiss religion as irredeemable rot and an unending procession of atrocities against humanity and nature, there are some who find that it has remarkable value—as entertainment.  For indeed, one of the most fascinating features of religious scripture, belief, and practice is that they satirize themselves.  Perhaps this is not immediately obvious to the devout believer, but it becomes evident when we consider that even most religious people indulge from time to time in the ridicule of religion—as long as it is someone else's religion, not their own.  To the atheist, of course, all religions are someone else's, so he is uniquely able to appreciate the absurdities of any religion, be it Hindu, Islamic, Christian, or whatever.  Not all absurdities, to be sure, are the sort which inspire laughter; they may arouse a wide range of responses, ranging from mild incredulity and puzzlement to intense disgust and profound despair.  In the following anecdotes, however, we will focus upon those which tickle more than they pinch.



Conversant Critters

We have all heard (or have at least heard of) certain birds with an amusing talent for mimicking human speech.  However, the birds' comprehension of the actual meaning of such utterances—from a simple "hello" to assorted bits of profundity or profanity—is virtually nil.  At most, the bird typically learns to associate the repetition of a specific sound sequence with a reward, usually in the form of food, or perhaps a few minutes of liberty from its cage.  True, parrots and mynahs are exceptionally intelligent, as birds go.  But even though they can be trained, for example, to repeat the phrase "Jesus loves me," they haven't the foggiest idea what a Jesus is.  A bird, no matter how smart it is, understands only that repeating specific sounds gets specific results.  Whether those sounds constitute, to human ears, a crude remark about someone's mother-in-law, or a recitation of "Now I lay me down to sleep," all they mean to the bird is, "I want attention," or perhaps, "Feed me, you jerk!"

Even so, science nowadays recognizes that many animals are capable of some degree of genuine communication, in one form or another, with members of their own species. And rudimentary inter-species communication, via sounds, scents, body postures, etc., regarding such simple matters as territory, defense, or feeding privileges, is now acknowledged to be quite common.  In addition, many domesticated animals can be trained to respond in certain ways to the vocal commands of humans.  And in a few cases, animals have actually been taught to communicate with humans by various means.

However, while a few animals, most notably apes, have learned to interact with humans using sign language or specially prepared computers, it is widely accepted that only the human species has developed a spoken language with the complexity necessary to express abstract ideas.  This is not because animals are not up to the task intellectually—some, particularly among the primates and cetaceans, being recognized as at least as intelligent as human children—but simply because animals lack the physiological apparatus to form the consonantal sounds necessary to speech as we humans know it.

Nevertheless, the Bible asserts that on two occasions animals did indeed speak to humans, the two animals in question being a serpent and an ass.  Now, unless one is inclined to believe in fairy tales, it is extremely doubtful that such events actually transpired as literally described, given that neither serpents nor asses are equipped with the physiological mechanism necessary for the production of any sound even remotely resembling human speech.  However, even though the factual truth of these myths is questionable at best, they may well be considered as valid in an allegorical sense.  For indeed, talking serpents and talking asses exist even today.  The serpents take the form of unscrupulous politicians and religion mongers, from mainstream leaders to cult gurus, who prey upon human ignorance and gullibility, and who make their living by spreading the venom of greed, prejudice, fear, hate, and superstition.  And the asses?  They are the ones who listen to the serpents.



Bible Babble

As everyone knows, religious fundamentalism is the doctrine that all religious scripture (at least that of one's own faith) must be regarded as literally true.  Fundamentalists contend that holy writ must be considered as literally true, not as allegory or myth, even when it is directly refuted by factual evidence.  On this issue they are outwardly steadfast and unwavering.  Yet in practice, even staunch fundamentalists are not above putting a little fanciful spin on a biblical passage whenever it suits their purpose.

The first time I noticed this phenomenon was during a sermon in which the preacher was getting all worked up about the approaching new millennium.  Suddenly he switched from an ecstatic raving format into what might best be described as an astounded "Golly, look what I just found in the Bible" mode (characterized by a widening of the eyes, and a dramatic lowering of the voice to a hushed tone in which one might impart a deep confidence).  What tremendous secret, hidden from all other scholars down through the centuries, had this great holy man discovered in the Bible?  To this day I am not certain, for his explanation was far from coherent—at least to the ear of this ignorant outsider.  But from a passage in the book of Isaiah he managed to confuse—quite intentionally, for he made a point of it—the term "Babylon" with "babble on," so artfully and to such great effect that he apparently quite convinced a fair portion his audience that the end of the world was nigh at hand in the closing years of the twentieth century.

So although fundamentalists pay abundant lip service to the literal interpretation of scripture, apparently if one is sufficiently learned in the mysterious ways of God (and perhaps sufficiently ignorant otherwise), one is entitled to find anything one wants in the scripture. No, it isn't allegory, and it isn't myth. Nevertheless, this "hidden message" required a highly imaginative and liberal (fundamentalists seem to hate that word!) interpretation of scripture. It is evidently permissible for the fundamentalists' hard and fast rule about "the literal truth of the scripture as it is written" to be broken, but only if the fundamentalists themselves are the ones who break it. Fundy-watchers should be on the lookout for this practice; I suspect it is much more common than our literalist friends would care to admit.



Madness in Their Methodism

In the late 1980's the United Methodist Church undertook the task of revising its hymnal, in order to exorcise any overtly racist, sexist, or otherwise inappropriate material which might have crept in over the years.  One of the hymns whose appropriateness was questioned was the very popular "Onward Christian Soldiers."  The problem with "Onward" was not that it was particularly offensive, but that its lyrics contained some blatantly warlike implications.  The reviewing council reasoned that phrases such as "marching as to war" and "forward into battle" were obviously inappropriate to the worship of Jesus, "The Prince of Peace."  After all, the notion of "fighting for peace" is plainly as senseless as, say, "lying for truth" or "copulating for chastity."

However, once word got out that "Onward" was on the council's list of hymns to be expunged, a tremendous outcry arose from lay and clergy alike.  The hymn had been a favorite for generations.  Laymen loved the song because it was exciting, caused the blood to surge, and gave an emotional lift.  And the clergy loved it because of its oft demonstrated effectiveness in waking up sleepy congregations and increasing contributions to the offering plate.

The review council was clearly in a predicament.  The hymn's overt militancy was plainly out of place in a house of worship, yet "Onward" was dearly beloved by the church membership, some of whom even threatened to change religious denominations if it were removed from the Methodist hymnal.

Now, helpful fellow that I am, I conceived an idea which might have permitted the use of the hymn in a slightly modified form, by acknowledging the incongruity of its bellicose references.  True, in centuries past the Christian Church had not been shy about launching bloody wars, either foreign or domestic, against infidels and heretics.  But church doctrines have been reshaped since the days of the Crusades and the Inquisition.  And because those troublesome lines of text had placed the Church in such an embarrassing position in light of its more modern, less militant stance, it seemed reasonable to me simply to change the title of the hymn to something suited to the current situation.

In the end, though, I did not mail my idea to the council.  Somehow, I had a strong hunch that my suggestion for changing the title of the hymn to "Awkward Christian Soldiers" would never be approved.



Mystery Unshrouded

The Shroud of Turin has long been venerated as the cloth in which the body of Jesus was wrapped in the sepulcher, and it is even alleged that the image of the Lord is imprinted in its fabric.  The Shroud is purported to have been found in the Holy Land during the Crusades and taken to Europe.  There it eventually passed into the possession of the House of Savoy, the Italian royal family, and was taken to Turin in 1578.

Many believers speculate that the image on the cloth (a faint discoloration, only relatively recently recognized as having the form of a human figure when it was first photographed in 1898) must have been produced by a mysterious "flash" of energy at the moment of Resurrection.  This would suggest, either that the linen had chemical properties similar to photographic film, or that it was oxidized—scorched—by a heat sufficient to sear flesh.  Although some experimentation has been conducted to show the theoretical possibility of forming photographic images on cloth, neither of these conjectures has yet been borne out by chemical testing of the Shroud itself.  Moreover, the pattern on the cloth is clearly a projection, as if the linen had been either draped loosely over a body (possibly, but not necessarily, a dead one), or spread flat and the image of a body projected onto it through a lens.  Had the Shroud been bound about a corpse at the time the image was produced, the appearance would have been quite different, a wrap-around view of the entire body, instead of the paired front and rear projections actually exhibited on the cloth.

In the 1970s biological testing performed by professor Alan Whanger of Duke University lent scientific credence to the Shroud's supposed place of origin.  Whanger's analysis of surface particles collected from the cloth revealed evidence of about twenty species of plants known to grow in the vicinity of Jerusalem.  (Unfortunately it is not clear from the brief report of that analysis, whether these species are unique to that specific area, or whether they may also be found elsewhere in the Mediterranean region.)

In 1979 several sections of the Shroud were examined microscopically by Chicago scientist Walter McCrone.  McCrone believed that he had detected a red ocher pigment in the fabric, and deduced that the image had been painted.  Later examinations, though, failed to show any trace of pigment or dye, indicating instead that the image was a result of the topical discoloration of the fibers of the Shroud itself, although the cause of the discoloration remained a matter of speculation.

Church officials agreed in 1988 to have the age of the Shroud verified by radiocarbon dating, with several cloth samples being analyzed by three independent laboratories.  To the surprise and chagrin of many, radiometric analysis revealed the Shroud's date of origin to have been between the years 1260 and 1390 AD (with a possible error of from 1000 to 1500 AD at the outside).  Alas, the Shroud of Turin was about thirteen centuries "too new," only one third the age it would have to be, in order to have been around at the time of the crucifixion of the Christ.  Consequently, regardless of where, how, or why a man's image appeared in the fibers of the Shroud, it became clear that that image, though apparently of a crucifixion victim (or at least of a tortured man upon whom crucifixion-style wounds had been inflicted), could not have been formed by the body of Jesus.  (Whose image might it be, then, if not that of Jesus?  Possibilities abound, one notable candidate being Jacques de Molay, last grand master of the Knights Templar, who was imprisoned, tortured, and executed in 1314—smack in the middle of the time frame indicated by the Shroud's radiometric tests.)

Though it is still classified as a holy relic, the Shroud of Turin is no longer officially claimed by the Roman Catholic Church to be the funeral wrapping of its Messiah.  Nevertheless, it has been fairly plausibly argued by some die-hard Shroud enthusiasts that the results of the radiocarbon dating could have been skewed by the presence of smoke residue (from a fire in 1532), bacteria, or fingerprints on the fabric.  Certainly it is conceivable, even with the standard preparation designed to remove most such extraneous matter from a sample prior to testing, that an error of perhaps as much as five or ten percent might be attributed to foreign organic material.  However, to account for an error of the magnitude in question, the amount of contaminating material would have to weigh more than the cloth itself, and the Shroud crowd has yet to show how this might be even remotely possible.  The notion, that trace contaminants constituting (at most) two percent of the analyzed sample could have resulted in a measurement error of well over sixty percent, strains credibility far beyond the breaking point.

It would appear, then, that whoever first passed the Shroud off as the burial wrapping of the body of Jesus literally pulled the wool (or in this case the linen) over everyone's eyes.  Yet the fuss over the Shroud of Turin is not an assault upon the Christian faith, for the truly faithful do not worship a mere piece of cloth, no matter what mysteries it might contain.  The Shroud fiasco is simply another example of the foolishness which even intelligent and learned people can be happily led to believe, without a hint of skepticism, simply because they want so much to believe it.



A Humming Business

A few kilometers from my home and adjacent to an interstate highway there is a farmer's silo.  It is painted white, and near the top there is red lettering, which says simply, "JOHN 3:3."  Now, for quite a while I thought this was perhaps the Department of Highways' cryptic way of informing motorists that there was a public comfort facility a short distance ahead.  But as it turns out, I was mistaken.

According to something I read in the local newspaper, the silo inscription has to do with the farmer's getting into the religion business.  (It has been a while since I read the article, so I will admit my recollection of details might be a bit hazy.)  Anyway, it seems that honest work wasn't lucrative enough; so the farmer and some of his buddies, including a local building contractor, got together and built an imposing, Spanish style edifice within clear view of the highway.  And just to be sure there would be no doubt in travelers' minds as to the purpose of this facility, they erected one of those large computerized signs capable of displaying—in flashing and whirling arrays of lights guaranteed to distract Interstate motorists, and almost bright enough to blind them at night—a variety of messages, most of which declare something to the effect that all sinners ought to exit at the next interchange and get themselves saved immediately.

The newspaper article indicated that the church does a humming business, and that folks who go there say the atmosphere is electric.  People are drawn from several states away by the magnetic reputation of the place.  Now, perhaps it is only a coincidence, but I have noticed that there is a 440,000 volt electrical transmission line which passes only a few meters away on the north side of the building.  And I figure that just might have something to do with the glowing reports.  If the building has standard steel framing, it must act as a huge vibrator whenever it is full of steaming, conductive bodies.  No wonder the place is so popular!



Christians for Satan

Have you ever noticed how fanatically evangelical types, with their incessant sermonizing and proselytizing, seem to generate a great deal of negative reaction in others?  It is their purpose, they maintain, to convert as many of the unfaithful (i.e., anyone who does not believe as they do) as they can to their own belief.

Yet, as any professional psychologist can affirm, the tactics which these folks typically employ are virtually certain to cause the average person to be dismayed or even repulsed.  It is likely that, in the long term, such obnoxious proselytizers discourage and drive off many more people who might otherwise accept religion, than they win over.  If there really were a Satan scheming to drive people away from religion, what shrewder move could he make than to recruit these unwitting but most effective disciples for the task?  It is enough to make one wonder which side these zealots are really on.



Translation: "I Don't Know"

There were several reasons for the appearance of religion in human society many thousands of years ago.  Probably the most important was that it provided leaders with a very powerful tool (superstitious fear) for imposing and enforcing structure in society, especially in times when factual knowledge was scant, critical thinking was unheard of, and mysticism was the "science" of the day.  Another reason was that religion lent a comforting aura of personality to an otherwise uncaring and impersonal universe, and furnished a way for emotional humans to feel a sense of belonging and personal interaction with an unemotional and impersonal world.

As an extra benefit, religion also provided a handy way to "explain" the unexplainable, and in ancient times there was certainly a great deal which fell into this category—wind, tides, lightning, seasons, lights in the sky, fire, volcanoes and earthquakes, flood and drought, illness, pregnancy, life, death, and so on.  Whenever people couldn't figure out the real reasons things happened (which was most of the time), religion offered the comfort of "knowing" by providing mythical "explanations" for various phenomena.  People fell ill (they believed) because they were under the influence of evil spirits; storms raged because the gods were angry; harvests were bountiful because the gods were happy; comets were omens of impending disaster; and the stars were windows in the sky from which the gods and spirits could look down upon the earth from their celestial abode.  Even today, when we know more about the universe than ever before, there are many questions unanswered.  And so religion continues to fulfill this ancient purpose of "explaining" the unknown in terms of the unknowable—without really explaining anything.  Yet if we had the courage to be bluntly honest, we would certainly express ourselves differently.  Here are a few examples.

  • God created the heavens and the earth.
    Translation: "I don't know why we're here or how we got here."

  • It is God's will.
    Translation: "What a stroke of great / terrible luck!  I don't know why that should have happened."

  • The Lord works in mysterious ways.
    Translation: "How strange!  I don't know why the world works like that."

  • God will punish you for that.
    Translation: "I feel you shouldn't do that, even though I don't know of a valid reason you shouldn't."

  • That's witchcraft.
    Translation: "That invention frightens me, because I don't know how it works."

  • It is the work of the devil.
    Translation: "That discovery contradicts my beliefs, and I don't know how to resolve the conflict."

  • Fight for God and country.
    Translation: "I don't know of a noble-sounding motive for attacking those people.  But we want their land, their goods, and their money, so let's kill them anyway."

People use such expressions every day, to explain things or to justify their actions, without realizing that these are essentially time-worn euphemisms for "I don't know."  So I propose this little challenge: Next time you are tempted to "explain" something in terms of God (or Satan), why not stop and ask yourself what it is that you are unable to explain otherwise.  If you find you do not know the answer, have the courage to admit it; then resolve to find out, if possible, what the reality of the matter is.  This personal quest of discovery might involve a trip to the local library, perhaps an exchange by phone or mail with someone knowledgeable in the field, and probably a little personal effort in exploring, studying, and evaluating a number of possibilities.  And yes, you could possibly find yourself stuck at a dead-end, with no answer in sight, or perhaps more than one equally plausible answer.  Granted, honest inquiry is not the quickest or easiest way to an answer, but it is the surest way to truth and progress.  After two or three tries at this little exercise, you might be surprised to discover how easily you can learn new (and maybe even interesting) stuff.

A glib "God" answer offers a handy, face-saving way for us to appear wise when we are not.  But it is both a moral short-cut and an intellectual short-circuit.  It lets us avoid having to confess—especially to our children, who most look to us for answers—that there are many things which we do not know.  We are conditioned to feel dreadfully inadequate about not knowing something, and religion gives us an easy way out of admitting our ignorance.  But if we love our kids so much and want them to trust us, why can't we be honest with them?  I don't know.  (Try saying it, it's easy: "I don't know.  I don't know.  I don't know ... but I'll try to find out!")



Mary, Mary!

Every so often, according to one newspaper or another, the virgin Mary, mother of God, puts in an appearance.  It would seem from reports that this is not too uncommon an occurrence.  The old girl pops up in all sorts of places around the world from time to time.  However, for some reason she usually chooses to appear clearly to just one person at a time.  When she is "seen" by several people at once, her image is curiously vague, an indistinct blob or smear of light. Perhaps she is shy in front of crowds.  (It is not clear how anyone can positively identify her when she is in one of her blobby moods.  Apparently she is somehow able to make herself crystal clear to one individual in the crowd, and the rest of the multitude get caught up in the excitement.)  Typically, some hubbub is generated in the local newspaper, and perhaps a snippet gets circulated as a curiosity by one of the national networks.  A few days later just about everyone forgets about it and things get back to normal.

A few years ago Mary reportedly appeared in a small town in Kentucky, and had a little chat with one of the local ladies.  The occurrence got the usual round of attention, which then subsided.  But evidently the woman and the blessed virgin hit it off well, because each year since then Mary has repeated her visit.  Perhaps because it occurs near Mothers' Day, this event has drawn national attention, and folks, not just from miles around, but from hundreds of miles distant, crowd into the little Appalachian town in their cars and trucks and campers.  Because spring is typically a fairly rainy season there, the unpaved roads are quickly churned into nearly impassable quagmires, and lawns are reduced to pock-marked fields of mud by all the pedestrian traffic.  Needless to say, this has become quite a headache for many of the locals, and especially the law enforcement people.  But because it brings in a lot of trade for the local merchants they are learning to cope with and accept the situation.

Now, it is perhaps noteworthy that, of all the thousands of visitors who show up, Mary is usually seen only by the woman whom she comes to visit.  Occasionally one or two others claim to have gotten a glimpse, but the rest seem to be just along for the ride, so to speak—chanting, singing, praying, eating, littering, queuing up at the Port-A-Johns, falling down in the muck, and doing all the other merry things people typically do at such an event.

One of the most peculiar pastimes which has garnered a following during these vigils is that of staring at the sun.  Having had occasion to transport more than a few people to the hospital for the consequences of this dangerous practice, the local police have prevailed upon the organizers of the event to hand out printed warnings of the (one would think obvious) hazards of sun-gazing.  Oddly, this seems only to have increased the incidents of blindness.  Since the warnings clearly state that one should "never look directly at the sun, especially through a lens of any sort," many people, who would never have thought of doing so on their own, have taken up staring at the sun through binoculars and camera lenses.  What do they see?  From what has been reported, the sun becomes blurry and appears to "spin."  The excitement about this spectacular "mystery" is a little misplaced, though, I think.  After all, blurring of vision is something one would normally expect when one's retinas are being seared, isn't it?  I suppose the following year the victims return, hoping for Mary to restore their sight.  Such is the nature of belief.



Devils, Devils Everywhere!

Those who frequent fundamentalist gatherings, church services, and web sites, or who enjoy some of the more fanciful religious publications and broadcasts, are bound to come away with the impression that old Satan has his conniving hands into just about every human enterprise imaginable, hatching schemes to ensnare the unwary at every turn.  According to some, Satan is responsible for just about anything that is either new or strange, from the latest technologies and modern art to the enigmatic stone figures of Easter Island.  As each new discovery or invention has come to light, there have been those who staunchly insisted that it was demonically inspired.  Without exception, such things as space exploration, television, radio, antibiotics, airplanes, contraception, the telephone, the phonograph, the automobile, the telegraph, electricity, and the steam engine have all been attributed to the influence of Satan.  As each new invention is integrated into the everyday workings of society, though, its supposedly diabolical origin is, of course, conveniently forgotten.  Yet the pattern persists, even as we laugh about the superstitious carryings on of "the old days" not so very long ago.  Among the "Satanic evils" of today, we are warned, are computers, infrared bar codes, genetic research, and wilderness conservation.



Enough to Make an Atheist Believe (Almost)

The spectacular growth of religious fundamentalism during the latter part of the Twentieth Century saw the emergence of a number of colorful characters.  Among these is evangelist and faith healer Oral Roberts, a major figure of the fundamentalist movement and founder of Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  His school includes an impressive campus, radio and television broadcast facilities with links to national networks, and a lofty "prayer tower" to which the Reverend Doctor Roberts regularly repairs to be at one with his God.

Now, it happened that contributions to the Roberts religion factory during an annual fund-raising campaign in the late 1980s gave early indications of falling significantly short of the anticipated goal.  So following one of his prayer tower chats with the Almighty, Dr. Roberts sadly announced to the world that the Lord would "call him home" if contributions did not total so many millions of dollars that year.  (It has never been made clear to me precisely what use an omnipotent being has for United States currency.  Perhaps the electricity bill had just arrived at the Pearly Gates.)

As anticipated, increasing donations started rolling in from the faithful flock, in the hope that the Lord might be kind and allow their beloved shepherd to remain with them yet for a time.  But there was also a dramatic response of a different sort.  Shortly after Roberts's "God is calling me home" announcement, his prayer tower (unoccupied at the time) was struck by lightning.  Atheists, of course, are loath to attribute this event to anything other than natural causes.  Yet it is tempting to imagine, if there really were a God, the warning words of The Great One ringing down that searing thunderbolt to the quaking Reverend Doctor R.:

By making a career of taking money from the poor and the sick and the gullible hast thou already sealed thine eternal fate.  But shouldst thou endeavour to enrich thyself and thy vassals further, by proclaiming that I thy God hath directly commanded thee to do so, then shall thy pre-ordained residency in Hell commence, not in due time, but forthwith.  This be thy first and thy last warning, Bub!

The official word from ORU was that the funding goal was met—though I do not recall that any figures were released to the public.  The good news is, neither good old Oral nor anyone else in that business has (so far) dared to pull such a stunt again.



Afterthought

It would be unfair to portray such antics as typical of all religious people.  Yet, given the high level of publicity often afforded such goings on, is it any wonder that religious people—fundamentalists in particular—are often viewed as perhaps more than a trifle gullible, even wacky?  Such behavior inevitably invites speculation that a person must have a few screws loose in order to be religious.  One wonders whether God would approve of his followers' promoting such a negative image of religious belief.

= SAJ =




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Copyright by S. A. Joyce, all rights reserved.