Refuting the Trinity? A Quick Response to L. Bryan Burke

I stumbled upon a common anti-trinitarian argument on Twitter this week. Although the argument is a common enough one, it is rare to see it stated in logical form. Here it is, as propagated by L. Bryan Burke, who presents it as a proof that the Trinity is not logically possible. This is a much stronger claim than saying that the trinity is not supported by the Biblical evidence, for it claims that the trinity cannot even possibly be true. Here is his argument:

1. There’s only 1 Most High God.
2. The Father is the Most High God.
3. Jesus is not the Father.
4. Therefore, Jesus is not the Most High God.

Burke ends with a challenge: “Which premise can trinitarians deny?”

Let me get one quibble out of the way first. Even if this argument is successful, it certainly does not show that the trinity is logically impossible. All it would show is that Jesus is not God. That is nowhere near proving that the trinity is logically impossible.

Anyhow, let us look at each premise and see if there is an answer to his question, starting with premise 1. It’s probably safe to say that no trinitarian would or should deny this premise. Whatever model we use to throw light on the trinity, it is always the case that orthodox trinitarians are talking about one God. Monotheism is basic to orthodox Christianity, and no orthodox trinitarian will abandon monotheism. So, premise one appears sound and cannot be denied by the defender of the trinity.

Let us next look at the premise that some trinitarians might be tempted to deny, premise 3. The position called “modalism” is one route that some Christians have taken to avoid the conclusion of arguments such as the one above. This position denies that Father, Son, & Holy Spirit are different at all. Instead, they are taken as 3 forms of the same divine person. For instance, I once heard a modalist preacher say “After Jesus’s ascension, he returned as the Holy Spirit.” The image here is of a single actor with 3 different costumes or masks for different roles that he or she plays. This is not orthodox trinitarianism and is regarded by orthodox thought as a heresy. So, if our local friendly trinitarian wants to remain faithful to orthodoxy, as well as avoid absurdities like Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane talking to himself (since on Modalism Jesus just is the Father), then she must also affirm premise 3: “Jesus is not the Father.”

This leaves us with premise two: “The Father is the Most High God.” Again, this looks like something the trinitarian cannot deny, after all the trinitarian will affirm “The Father is God.” However, it seems to me that with premise two the unitarian is a bit sneaky and through this sneakiness he seeks to make his mischief. Once we see through it, we will find that the trinitarian can escape the unitarian’s argument.

The fundamental problem is that premise 2 trades on an imprecision, which makes it vague. What is actually meant by saying “The Father is the Most High God”? The unitarian and the trinitarian do not, in fact, have a univocal understanding of this premise. If the premise means something like “The Father alone is the only divine person,” then there is no reason at all for the trinitarian to grant the premise. However, if the premise means something like “The Father shares in the divine essence,” then the trinitarian will grant the premise, but now the conclusion simply does not follow. The unitarian needs the trinitarian to read premise 2 the way the unitarian does, but that is simply begging the question against trinitarianism. The trinitarian does indeed affirm the premise, but not with the understanding the unitarian gives the premise. For the trinitarian the technically correct premise would be “The trinity is the Most High God,” with 3 divine persons sharing in the divine essence. The argument is therefore a patent failure due to the equivocal readings of premise 2.

Whether a unitarian or trinitarian understanding of the nature of God is true, there is no way to avoid the hard work of laying out the scriptural witness and arguing which view best systematizes it. The question cannot be settled by a neat little deductive argument containing a vague premise, and which glosses over the actual issue at stake and masks the subtlety of trinitarian understandings of God. The doctrine of the trinity has a long pedigree within Christian thought and is often taken to be so central that it is a chief marker of orthodoxy. It was arrived at by way of a reflection on the scriptural witness which appears to suggest there is one God, but that the Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy Spirit is God. If the unitarian wants to challenge this understanding of God, it will have to be done by challenging this interpretation of the scriptural witness. A deductive question begging argument simply is not good enough.

Stephen J. Graham

The Meagre Moral Fruits of Twitter Engagement – Some Clarification Concerning an Accusation

Benjamin Watkins of Real Atheology was on the receiving end of a block from me this week on Twitter. In response he tells his followers that he was blocked because he “called out his analogy between transgender inclusion and acts of pedophilia.” Firstly, that was not the reason I blocked him, and secondly, I made no such analogy (as I had already made clear to him). I blocked Watkins for this reason: rather than engage in a reasonable dialogue about a point I made, he simply slapped me with the “transphobic” label and accused me of “meagre moral fruits” (a branding he stamps frequently on Christians who dare take a different moral position from him on some point).

My original tweet – in response to the Dalai Lama asking a young boy to suck his tongue – said this: “Who had “Dalai Lama turns out to be paedo freak” on their 2023 bingo card? The world just gets worse and worse with every passing day.” I jokingly followed up with this: “I’m assuming he’ll be in talks with Budweiser soon?” – a reference to the recent controversial decision by that company to employ Dylan Mulvaney in its advertising.

Now, I accept this might have been open to misunderstanding, so Watkins initially sought clarity: “The recent Budweiser controversy involves a transgender person and Budweiser’s support for LGBTQ rights. The recent controversy with the Dalai Lama involves acts of pedophilia. Are you really suggesting these two things are analogous, because if so…[LINK TO ARTICLE ABOUT HIS PET TOPIC OF MEAGRE MORAL FRUITS].

Sure, I see how he could have been concerned about my comment. The nature of Twitter is it is brief and a lot of meaning and intent can be “lost in translation.” So, I responded to clarify the analogy I was making:

“Analogous insofar as both would involve a company throwing themselves at something controversial and (frankly) offensive to try to make sales.”

Watkins replied with “Social equality and inclusion for transgender persons shouldn’t be controversial and the judgment that it is “offensive” is a meager moral fruit. I stand by my claim then.”

Well, that missed the point. I was particularly referring to Dylan Mulvaney, who is widely considered to be controversial amongst many people broadly sympathetic to trans issues. Mulvaney is not even considered “trans” by some within that movement, and his portrayal of womanhood is considered offensive by many women. My point had nothing to do with “equality and inclusion for transgender persons.” So, I briefly explained: “He’s a bad actor, in my view; presenting a crude caricature of femininity. Strikes a lot of women as offensive too. Aligning beliefs with reality isn’t a “meager moral fruit.” You throw that phrase around a lot. It’s not worth much, to be honest.”

Watkins continued to miss my point and again accused me of making an analogy I wasn’t actually making: “A ‘crude caricature of femininity’ is not even remotely analogous to pedophilia. That’s the meagre moral fruit. I couldn’t care less if you’re offended by social equality and inclusion for LGBT persons. It turns out *moral* facts also don’t care about your feelings.”

I confess I found that tiresome because he was missing the point again and flat out ignoring what I had said. So, I invited him to go back and re-read what I actually said, to which Watkins replied “I’m well aware of what you wrote [HE CLEARLY WASN’T], and you are well aware of the analogy you are trying to draw [YES, BUT WATKINS WASN’T]. Playing coy isn’t a good look. Then again, neither is transphobia.”

That got a block from me. Tiresomely throwing around labels rather than listening to and engaging with a point I was making was the final straw. Moreover, it was incredibly disappointing that Watkins accused me in this way (without any Benefit of the doubt) for a number of reasons: I had already explained my intent, I have had positive engagements with Watkins in the past, and I had recently donated $100 to a GoFundMe campaign of his to help pay the medical bills for a sick relative. To be accused of “meagre moral fruits” was particularly galling, and a far cry from the charitable nature Watkins paints for himself on social media.

In a subsequent tweet in response to another person, he defended his accusation of “meagre moral fruits” with this: “I think it’s morally disgusting and utterly abhorrent when Christians (or anyone else for that matter) compare the acts of the LGBT community to acts of pedophilia. My respect extends widely among views that disagree with my own, but that is simply a bridge too far.”

As should be clear by now: I did not do that. That is clumsy, lazy thinking, bordering on dishonest, which makes his constant complaints about “meagre moral fruits” somewhat ironic.

In a response to someone who pointed out his misrepresentation he said: “I’m open to clarification.” He already got the clarification. He chose to ignore it.

Stephen J. Graham

Charismatic Christianity & Bogus Miracle Claims

I took part in a podcast recently with The Non-Alchemist in which we discussed supernatural claims within the modern Pentecostal and charismatic movements.

You can access the podcast here: https://youtu.be/0VPhg1-xI2c

Stephen J Graham

Why do Churches not Teach Christian Belief Properly?

Christianity is a worldview, a set of beliefs and practices about reality. The content of Christian belief has taken shape over centuries in various creeds and confessions of faith, some of which were painstakingly debated for years. Doctrinal belief has traditionally been of utmost importance to the Christian Church. And yet it occurred to me that in around 25 years of church attendance I have never attended a church – or even heard of one in my native Northern Ireland – that provides a dedicated course for doctrinal teaching. This strikes me as grossly negligent.

I remember as a young graduate being asked to assist a presbyterian minister in leading an Alpha Course. I was charged with leading group discussion through the issues and attempting to answer questions that were raised. I was a bit nervous about it but was pleased to discover that a church elder was placed in my group to assist me. I remember one discussion around the doctrine of the trinity. It quickly became apparent that this church elder hadn’t the foggiest idea how to state and defend the doctrine. Even worse: he hadn’t even got a clue concerning the pertinent biblical texts. He had been an elder in the Presbyterian Church in Ireland for years and was completely lost how to state and defend a central Christian doctrine. How can that happen?

It happened because this church – with so many others – neglected to equip its members to understand, articulate and defend their Christian convictions. For many church attenders their only teaching is a 20-45 minute weekly sermon that, frankly, tends to be something of a meandering ramble around a biblical text, often at the mercy of the minister’s interests. From one week to the next sermons are rarely connected, and there is little to no systematic expounding of what Christians believe and why.

And yet it strikes me as crucial that Christians have a sound grasp of what they believe and why. It might seem a little quaint these days, but the bottom line is that Christianity is an entire worldview and as such commits followers to a set of beliefs concerning reality: God exists, God has certain properties such as omnipotence and eternity, God created the world, humankind is fallen and in need of redemption, God the Son became incarnate to provide atonement for sin, Christ rose again from the dead, and so on and so forth. Simply by being a Christian a person is committed to a set of basic beliefs, and the Christian can thus be a good theologian – understanding and defending his/her beliefs – or a bad one – like the elder who had no idea how to articulate his belief let alone find any biblical basis for it.

Unfortunately, too often these days Christians are challenged simply to live a certain way: be good to others, love our enemies, and experience the love of God. As important as such things are, there’s no getting away from the intellectual elements of Christianity. How does one live like a Christian if one cannot understand what a Christian is? An atheist can be a good person and love her enemies too, but that’s not enough to make someone a Christian.

There are important aspects of Christian faith that require a good understanding of Christian doctrine. For instance, one biblical tradition calls us to love God with all our minds. In fact, when asked what the greatest commandment is, Jesus replied: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” Studying and reflecting on the nature and person of God is surely one element of this.

Furthermore, the importance of being able to articulate and defend one’s belief is crucial for anyone, particularly in western culture. Being able to lay out a belief and say why you hold it is a basic requirement for anyone who seeks to discuss faith in secular culture. There is no getting away from that. I almost never – ever – speak to people about religious issues without having to address why certain beliefs are held. If you want a place at the table of ideas these days, you simply cannot ignore the giving of reasons for the things you believe. Without doing so, you cannot hope to influence culture, and in fact you simply contribute to the cultural assumption that not only are Christians unable to defend their beliefs, they cannot even state them. People are interested in rational arguments. They almost always engage and naturally ask the “why” question. It seems to me that if anyone has a chance winning the ear of any such people it will be those who understand their faith and who can state and defend it.

Of course, the kind of systematic learning I’m speaking of isn’t for everyone. However, I think we often underestimate people and assume they have neither the time nor intelligence. However, embarking on a basic systematic study needn’t take any more time than an hour or so a week, and the average person watches TV for 3-5 hours a day! Further, the intellectual acumen required isn’t beyond the reach of adults with an average education – we’re talking the basics here. Sadly, we often patronize people. I remember hearing a youth pastor say that the finer points of doctrine would be beyond his group. This group included young people who had embarked on university courses in subjects like biology and chemistry. So, these students can be expected to grasp the workings of biological systems, electrons, scientific formulae, but don’t have the ability to learn how to state and defend central Christian doctrines? They have to be fed a diet of cutesy motivational nonsense instead?

We need to give people more credit than that. Not only do Christians deserve better, but an unbelieving world deserves a better class of Christian.

Stephen J. Graham

Facebook Psychics

We got into a theological family discussion the other day about the existence and nature of demons and angels. My 13 year old son was asking my wife and I what we thought. My wife believes in angels and demons along the standard conservative Christian understanding. I’m not so sure. Perhaps there are indeed immaterial beings, created by God, but I don’t care to speculate much further, and I’m pretty sure the typical understanding of demons and possession is largely imaginative nonsense.

The conversation soon turned to psychic phenomena, and my wife told us the story of a work colleague (let’s call her Julie Fitzsimmons) who met a psychic who knew all kinds of things about her, and could even see and commune with the spirits of Julie’s dead relatives who followed her to the psychic’s home. The psychic knew that Julie was in a lesbian relationship, and was able to tell her the name of her deceased grandmother. This grandmother was actually present in the room at the time, holding a baby boy – Julie’s miscarried son from several years before – and was able to relate personal family information to Julie via the psychic.

My wife had warned Julie not to go to the psychic in the first place, and remains convinced that such people might well be capable of channeling evil spirits.

I’m inclined to think differently. Honestly, I’m surprised that people are surprised that someone could know all manner of details about them, especially these transparent days when our lives tend to be all over the internet.

So, I asked where Julie had first made contact with this psychic, and the answer was “Facebook.” And there we go. Mystery solved. As an experiment I went on Facebook and looked up Julie (who is friends with my wife, but not with me). It was astonishingly easy to find out personal information about Julie. Her profile itself provides much of the information: her relationship status was public, so I discovered within 3 seconds she was in a lesbian relationship (engaged to her partner). Her friend list then provided me with details of her relatives. By searching Julie’s friends using her surname I got a list of other Facebook profiles of people who were almost certainly relatives, including her mother, at least 1 sister, and several others. These profiles – of varying levels of privacy – provided a wealth of further information. Her mother’s profile provided all the information a psychic could want concerning Julie’s grandmother. Moreover, a less obvious source of information on Facebook is information about a person provided by third parties: comments on status updates or photos. So, a photograph of a person holding a dog might have a comment like “Aw! Reminds of your wee spaniel, RIP Rocky!” So, without telling us themselves, we know the person had a Spaniel called Rocky, now deceased. For effect we could pretend to commune with said beast in a psychic reading.

The funny thing is, Julie swears that she provided no information to this psychic. And in one sense she maybe didn’t (though we can’t rule out information provided subtly to the psychic in the course of the reading), but the information was all there in public for any research-minded psychic to make use of.

Sadly, many people yearn for the other-worldly and are comforted and excited by the thought that our dead relatives are still with us and within reach. We’ll happily be parted from our hard-earned cash to be caught up in a supernatural story that takes us out of the humdrum of our mundane lives. We want our nearest and dearest to be with us. We want the world to be magical. By comparison “the psychic gleaned your info from Facebook” just isn’t a very sexy explanation.

Stephen J. Graham

Theistic Arguments – All as Bad as Each Other – Really?

Randal Rauser, a seminary professor and analytical theologian, recently engaged in a “Devil’s Advocate” debate with Ben Watkins from Real Atheology. Devil’s Advocate debates are way more interesting than the average stale Theist v Atheist debates. In Devil’s Advocate debates the atheist presents the case for theism, and the theist presents the case for atheism. The exercise of presenting the case for something one believes to be false is incredibly useful. It forces you to engage in intellectual empathy, to put yourself in the shoes of one’s opponent, and to try to see the world through their eyes. It also forces you to engage the principle of charity, to look at what’s good about the claims and arguments of one’s opponent. Moreover, it helps a person to “steelman” their opponent’s views – to make them as good as they can possible me made, after all, you’re going to be defending them!

So, how does a person go about doing such a thing? For some, it simply cannot be done. I’m reminded of numerous times I’ve seen arguments for the existence of God being written off en masse because “they’re all just as bad as each other.” It is to these sorts of claims that I address the rest of this short article.

Now, I’m a theist, so obviously I don’t think every aspect of the case for the existence of God is terrible (though it wouldn’t be impossible for a theist – perhaps a fideist – to adhere to such a claim). How do we respond to the atheist who claims that all theistic arguments are as bad as each other?

Well, first of all we need to start with the wealth of arguments for the existence of God. There are dozens of them. Not only are there numerous categories of arguments – teleological, cosmological, ontological, moral, pragmatic – there are multiple types of arguments within each category: fine-tuning arguments, analogical design arguments, arguments from contingency, causation, motion, or from the beginning of the universe. Anselm’s ontological argument differs from Descartes, which differs from modern modal versions presented by philosophers such as Plantinga & Malcolm. Are all of the many arguments offered for theism really equally bad?

What do we mean when we say an argument is good or bad? There are several criteria we can apply. Is the argument valid: such that if the premises are true then the conclusion must be true? Is the argument sound: are the premises true, more probable than not, or at least plausible? Is the argument rationally persuasive? Even an otherwise good argument will fail if it contains a premise that most people cannot understand or see to be true. Does the argument provide even a small amount of weight in favour of theism as opposed to, say, naturalism?

When we consider criteria such as these, the claim that all theistic arguments are just as bad as each other seems spurious indeed. Some theistic arguments are invalid. We might consider an argument that God exists because the Bible says He does, and we know the Bible is true because it’s the word of God. That’s invalid. Compare that with the Kalam cosmological argument, which is clearly valid. An invalid argument is much worse than a valid one! Or consider rational persuasiveness. Plantinga’s ontological argument is valid and (I think) sound, but it isn’t rationally persuasive. The fine-tuning argument is valid and (I think) sound, but it is rationally persuasive, and has indeed persuaded many people. The atheist might of course think both arguments are unsuccessful, but that’s not the point here. One is clearly better than the other at doing what any argument needs to do: persuade.

Things get much worse when we consider probabilistic arguments. Think of the following features of the world and whether they are more expected on theism or naturalism: morality, free will, and consciousness. It seems to me that morality and consciousness add a little more weight to theism over naturalism, in that both are relatively unsurprising on theism but not so much on naturalism. Both offer more weight than free will does. Of course, the atheist disagrees, but, unless he or she thinks none of these features adds *any* weight at all to the case for theism, then it seems wrong-headed to say they all provide exactly equal weight to theism. However we rate these arguments, many of these features of the world provide some (I didn’t say much) support for theism. It seems highly unlikely that they all provide exactly the same level of support as each other. Thus, while it might be reasonable to think all arguments for the existence of God are bad, it’s quite incorrect to think all arguments for the existence of God are equally bad. A valid argument is better than an invalid one. A sound argument is better than a probable one, which is better than a merely plausible one, which is better than a dubious one – and there are theistic arguments right across this spectrum. Moreover, there are theistic arguments which are much more persuasive than others – as is evidence by the fact that many more people are actually persuaded by them!

Perhaps the “all are as bad as each other” position is born from a certain intellectual laziness rather than careful reflection. If so, then I invite such atheists to find themselves a theist and have a good old Devil’s Advocate debate.

Stephen J. Graham

50 Quick Questions

1.       What’s your favourite colour?

Red.

2.       What’s your favourite novel?

The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas or The Plague by Albert Camus.

3.       How many brothers and sisters have you got?

One older sister.

4.       How many children do you have?

One son.

5.       On your census form what do you put down as your religion?

Presbyterian.

6.       Do you believe in God?

Yes.

7.       Do you believe in life after death?

Yes.

8.       Are human beings free?

In many things, yes.

9.       Who is your favour author?

Albert Camus

10.   What’s your favour movie?

Chariots of Fire.

11.   Who’s your favourite actor?

Jack Nicholson.

12.   Actress?

Judy Dench.

13.   What’s something you do for fun?

Cinema.

14.   What’s your favourite food?

Mushrooms…or maybe rice…rice with mushrooms!

15.   What height are you?

5 foot 10 inches.

16.   How much do you weigh?

168lbs at last weigh-in (3 days ago)

17.   Beard?

A fairly light one.

18.   Favourite video game?

Mario Kart.

19.   Best way to travel?

Train.

20.   Typical breakfast?

3 eggs (scrambled, boiled or fried), two rounds of wholemeal toast and a mug of coffee.

21.   Do you work out?

Three dumbbell sessions a week.

22.   Your house is burning down – what material possession do you save first?

My laptop.

23.   Ever been seriously ill?

Nothing life threatening, but periodic crippling anxiety.

24.   Ever had an operation?

Yes, a hernia repair just over 20 years ago.

25.   Have you ever taken an illegal drug?

No.

26.   What’s your favourite non-alcoholic drink?

Coke zero.

27.   Alcoholic drink?

Rum with ginger beer.

28.   The last movie you watched was?

Jurassic world.

29.   The last book you read?

The Oresteia

30.   Who is your favourite philosopher?

Plato.

31.   Which philosopher has been most influential for you?

Alvin Plantinga.

32.   What’s you favour holiday destination?

Paris…no, Edinburgh…no, Paris…hmm…..

33.   Where would you love to visit but haven’t yet?

Australia.

34.   What grooming products do you use?

Beyond a hair brush?

35.   What can’t you live without?

Besides oxygen, food, and water? My books.

36.   If you won 10 million pounds what would you do?

Quit work, buy a new house, visit Australia, and move to Paris…no Edinburgh…no Paris…hmm…

37.   What age are you?

40.

38.   What age do you wish you were?

17

39.   What part of your body do you like best?

My smouldering good looks, obviously.

40.   Which part of your body would you most like to change?

The shape of my head…seriously, what’s going on with it?

41.   Which famous person would you like to spend an evening with in the pub?

Micky Flanagan

42.   Star Wars or Star Trek?

Star Wars.

43.   Marvel or DC?

Marvel

44.   Do you play a sport?

Not presently. I used to play football and badminton.

45.   When you were younger what did you want to be when you grew up?

A fighter pilot in the RAF.

46.   Why didn’t you do that?

Apparently other plane try to shoot you down, who knew?!

47.   What household chore are you responsible for?

Dishes, ironing, bins, and anything requiring a power drill.

48.   Any hobbies?

I play drums, collect world percussion instruments, and read comic books (typically Thor).

49.   Quick death or time to prepare?

Go to bed and never wake up, isn’t that what we all want?

50.   Where would you like to be right now?

Having a stroll up the Royal Mile, Edinburgh.

Forthcoming Articles

I have a number of articles currently on my “to write” list. Forthcoming articles include:

1. What are skeptical theists skeptical about? In this article I want to summarize the sorts of things us skeptical theists are skeptical about and why I think that the prospects of anyone developing a persuasive intellectual argument from evil against the existence of God are not bright.
2. One of the assumptions behind certain classical arguments from evil is that if God can create perfect beings who always choose the right thing then he should. I want to challenge this assumption.
3. Abortion & Bodily Rights. Here I want to argue why I think pro-choice arguments based on the “right to bodily autonomy” are not terribly good.
4. The Argument Pro-Lifers are Terrified Of! I will discuss one argument which apparently should terrify me. It doesn’t, and I will say why.
5. Why I’m not a Compatibilist – Part (1) Philosophy. In this article I want to discuss the differences between libertarian approaches to freedom and compatibilist ones, and why I think compatibilism is ultimately incoherent.
6. Why I’m not a Compatibilist – Part (2) Theology. Here I want to add theological reasons for my rejection of compatibilism – particularly in light of the problem of evil and the sufferings of the damned in Hell.
7. Why all the cool kids are molinists. I think a statement of my view on molinism is long overdue. In this article I want to state what molinism actually is and defend it from certain criticisms.

 

That should keep me busy for a while, particularly since some of these articles might break up into several pieces!

I am also starting to answer questions on my blog (see my previous article), so if anyone has any question to raise feel free to ask and if I’m interested enough in the topic I might well reply.

Stephen J. Graham

Ludwig Feuerbach versus Apophatic Theologians

Every so often I stumble upon a piece of writing that says exactly what I want to say only a million times better than I could ever say it. I would never have guessed that Ludwig Feuerbach – a 19th century German atheist philosopher – would have been one such person, but I recently read some of his work and came across a passage that is exactly what I want to say to a certain breed of apophatic theologian – the kind that thinks we can’t know or say anything about God.  We can’t, they claim, say anything meaningful about the nature of God, or we can only speak of God in terms of what He is not. I always found this sort of talk to be the height of theological tomfoolery (or perhaps a close second to those poor souls who say with the straight face that Jesus was in fact an atheist). It seems to me that the God of such theologians would be a non-entity. After all, if something exists then it has a nature or attributes of some kind that make it the kind of thing it is. I much prefer an honest atheist to such types of theologian.

Anyway, I’ll let Feuerback take it from here:

“A being without qualities is one which cannot become an object to the mind; and such a being is virtually non-existent. Where man deprives God of all qualities, God is no longer anything more to him than a negative being. To the truly religious man, God is not a being without qualities, because to him he is a positive, real being. The theory that God cannot be defined, and consequently cannot be known by man, is therefore the offspring of recent times, a product of modern unbelief. . . . On the ground that God is unknowable, man excuses himself to what is yet remaining of his religious conscience for his forgetfulness of God, his absorption in the world: he denies God practically by his conduct, – the world has possession of all his thoughts and inclinations, – but he does not deny him theoretically, he does not attack his existence; he lets that rest. But this existence does not affect or incommode him; it is a merely negative existence, an existence without existence, a self-contradictory existence, – a state of being, which, as to its effects, is not distinguishable from non-being. . . . The alleged religious horror of limiting God by positive predicates is only the irreligious wish to know nothing more of God, to banish God from the mind”

Stephen J. Graham

Reflections on Faith & Unbelief in “Leaving My Father’s Faith”

Reflections on Faith & Unbelief
Leaving My Father’s Faith: A Review
Directed by John Wright

A sign in my local pub encourages the patrons to put down their mobile devices and actually converse face to face. There’s only one rule: “NO RELIGION!” It’s easy to see why there’s a perceived need for such a rule: religion is divisive. When religion rears its head the pinching and eye poking often swiftly follows. Religious-themed message boards and online discussion forums have become the Mos Eisley of the internet: you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. Friends have parted over religious differences, and sometimes families have been torn asunder. Wright’s film thus fittingly asks: “Does a preacher lose his son when his son loses faith?” And it addresses it in the context of a wonderfully compelling personal story.

Tony Campolo – “one of the most important Christian evangelical preachers in the last 50 years,” according to the New York Times – is well-known, massively influential, and often controversial. His son Bart Campolo was for years a partner in his father’s ministry until announcing one Thanksgiving that he no longer believed. He’s now a Humanist chaplain. This film tells the story, doing what sadly is rare for movies these days: touching your heart and making you think. This engaging personal exchange raises questions of relationship, culture, sociology, philosophy, theology, and humanity. Wright – himself the son of a Presbyterian minister – has created space to allow all these issues to be addressed, but always in the context of this personal interaction that is funny, engaging, and deeply poignant. The audience in my screening laughed heartily and shed a few tears.

The film opens with a clever sequence showing a mash-up of the many occasions on which Tony told his famous “Friday, but Sunday’s coming!” story, giving a sense of just how massive this one time spiritual adviser to President Clinton is. We can only imagine what it must have been like for Bart to grow up in this world. In his own words, Bart tells us that even at the age of 52 “father looms large for me.” When we first see them side by side in conversation the rapport between them is fantastic. This is where the strength of this movie lies. Whilst many filmmakers would’ve found the temptation of turning the camera on themselves in a presenter role too much to resist, Wright has stayed largely out of the way, cleverly creating the impression that we’re eavesdropping on this moving and meaningful exchange between father and son, who might just be sitting next to us in our local pub, or at least one that doesn’t ban religious chat.

Many of us know the sad reality of how conversations between atheists and Christians often go: generating more heat than light, riddled with personal insults, and creating little to no real meeting of minds. That’s not the case here. Tony and Bart talk through their differences all the while smiling at fond reminiscences, sharing jokes, and even singing together! In asking Bart “do you think I’m stupid, lying or deluded?” Tony perhaps fears that Bart views him in a way that’s been quite typical of those inspired by the so-called “new atheists.” Bart assures him that he simply sees things differently and, interestingly, remarks that he and his Dad are still on the same team; not just that they are “two bald guys with bad posture,” but given the nature of the work they both have a heart for: helping people in the gritty reality of life. It’s a theme Tony will echo as the conversation progresses.

The centre of the story is, of course, Bart’s deconversion. As we listen to conversion and deconversion stories we quickly begin to see common themes, and Bart is no exception. His doubts are not spectacular or atypical: why doesn’t God, the omnipotent & omnibenevolent creator of the cosmos, do something to help impoverished kids? When we look at the world can we really say there’s such a being in charge of things? Can’t we just get the Bible to say what we want? And isn’t it just fundamentally a very human document? Are our gay friends really going to hell? Why does God never seem to intervene when we pray about important things? In a wonderful little touch Wright illustrates Bart’s faith as a Jenga tower: as each brick comes out the whole thing get more unstable, until…………

Crash. And that’s just what happened to Bart: he suffered a near fatal bicycle accident and in his recovery, he no longer felt the same. Bart seemed struck with a strong sense of mortality: feeling that had he died he would have ceased to exist. He found that he simply no longer believed and had better start living accordingly. I’ve read similar stories of people surviving such things to the opposite effect: believing they’ve been given a second chance, that Someone-Up-There still wants them around for some purpose, that they’ve been given a gift of life. Surprisingly, Bart tells us that he feels as if he has been given a gift: a gift of perspective. Whereas a popular apologetic argument tells us that life without God and immortality would be meaningless and purposeless, Bart will have none of it. He feels more awake to life given that it’s all we have. As he and Tony share a chorus of “This world is not my home,” Bart points out that he feels that this world matters – perhaps precisely because we’re doomed – and expresses the desire that, “I’d like to live until I die.”

Bart’s story illustrates beautifully the muddled reality of both faith and doubt. Neither is the purely intellectual exercise that certain philosophical rationalists would make out. Our life experiences are crucial. In fact, Tony appeals to sociological factors – rather than some of the more intellectual problems Bart points to – in explaining Bart’s loss of faith. Wright himself also enquires as to whether there might be deep psychological factors at play. Noticing that Bart moved to the other side of the country, Wright asks if perhaps Bart is trying to distance himself from his father, with one manifestation of this desire being his rejection of his father’s faith. Here’s the truth: they’re all hinting in the right direction. We simply aren’t the wholly rational agents we like to portray ourselves as. When we read The Gospel According to St Modern Atheist, to be religious is to be stupid or deluded. On the flip-side, St Big Bucks Christian Apologist’s Epistle to the faithful would have us believe that a fair hearing of the evidence should lead to conversion, and that arguments often don’t work because atheists deep down wickedly reject God. What this film does it force us to look at how all this plays out at a very human level far from the ivory tower. And we find that the reality is messier. It always is. Over 100 years ago the American Philosopher William James spoke of the importance of the will in belief formation. More recently we’ve come to appreciate the range of influences on our believing. Whilst we seek to rationally reflect on our beliefs and life experiences we must do so with emotional, psychological, sociological, and cultural baggage. We simply see things differently, as Bart says. That’s human. And it’s not due to deficiencies of intellect or to wickedness. Clearly Tony isn’t stupid, and Bart obviously isn’t just a bad guy.

As Bart and Tony recall that Thanksgiving Day when Bart first told his Dad of his deconversion the mood becomes more sombre immediately – the pain etched on Tony’s face lets us see that undoubtedly this still affects him deeply. There was real fear for their relationship. A lesser man might have rejected his son, but Tony sees a much bigger picture. Bart is still his beloved son; he’s still a good man. In fact, for Tony, Bart is “an anonymous Christian,” which I’m sure will be labelled by some evangelicals as nonsense, or at best a case of denial. But it gives us an insight into Tony’s faith. Tony Campolo was a trailblazer of the “evangelical left,” and helped to awaken a sense that the gospel of Christ is more than a preached messaged. There are social obligations too: to help the poor and oppressed. In his role as a Humanist chaplain, Bart fights for social justice and cares for the poor, and as Tony reminds us, “that’s Kingdom work.”

And with that Tony echoes Bart’s sentiments from earlier in the film and we end up marvelling at how different Tony’s and Bart’s worldviews are and yet how similar they remain. Bart is still Tony’s beloved son doing Kingdom business. Tony admits to having the occasional doubt. In this there is a real meeting of minds. Bart’s attitude is the foil to the kind of aggressive atheism that’s become all too familiar. Tony is the foil to an evangelical complacency about the social obligations of the gospel, as well as to a kind of dogmatic evangelical certainty.

The relationship between a father and a son is always a special one (just ask Jesus!). Our conversations with other people will rarely be as engaging and emotionally charged as this one. But whether you’re a Christian or an atheist and you’re looking for a primer as to how to conduct religious conversations, this is a great example to follow. Show it in your youth group. Take your humanist friends to see it. Better still – invite humanists to your church group and watch it together! Maybe some of the respectful honesty of this exchange will rub off and, who knows, maybe we might even convince my local pub finally to take down its prohibition.

Stephen J. Graham

You can find out more about the release of this film and where you can see it at:

https://campolofilm.com/