Real Hopes, Real Fears

My desertion of religious faith was, at first, bittersweet.  As I've expressed before, I initially mourned the loss of hope for immortality and eternal life with a heavenly father and my family.  On the other hand, with welcome relief I let go of fears of coming under godly condemnation and possibly being separated from my family forever.

Now I look back on my old religious hopes and fears with some embarrassment.  They were all illusory.  My fears were taught to me.  I feared gays and their diabolical "agenda."  I feared "worldly" pleasures and the misery they would undoubtedly bring to my life.  I feared the calamities incident to the imminent second coming of Jesus.  I feared going to Mormon hell.  So many useless fears.  I might as well have wasted time fearing the monster under my bed or the bogeyman in my closet.  My religious hopes were similarly silly.  As a kid I would actually sit around and daydream about the types of worlds I would create once I became a god.  I read a lot of science fiction and fantasy books, so I had quite the imagination.  Little did I realize that being a god in Mormon thought means being pretty much like our god and just implementing a silly plan that requires a savior and damnation for a large chunk of your offspring, over and over, for all eternity.  No thanks.

Nowadays I feel like my hopes and fears are much more material.  I fear the following (in no particular order): man-made environmental ruin, nuclear holocaust, biological warfare, death, human extinction, etc.  As a believer, I didn't worry about any of these, because I believed that no matter how bad things got, God would never allow humans to annihilate themselves, and death was no big deal because hey, resurrection and immortality for all, right?  Now that I no longer cling to such beliefs, the dangers in the world become much more salient.  While I recognize that global violence is actually at its lowest levels in recorded history, I also acknowledge that our self-destructive abilities are great than they've ever been.  We literally have the ability to wipe out virtually all human life on the planet overnight.  And there isn't any deity that would step in to intervene.  That would be the end of humanity.

On the other hand, my hopes are now much more real, as well.  I have genuine hope that despite the dangers, perils, and threats that we face (mostly self-made), we will innovate new and better ways to deal with our problems.  Technology and modern science are two-edged swords, but I think the progress they have generated is undeniable.  I believe that someday we will figure out a way to cure most, if not all, of our biological problems.  I think reversal of aging will become commonplace someday.  I think we will be able to achieve de facto immortality--perhaps not in my lifetime, but at some point in the future.  There are companies now that offer cryogenic services where for a fee, you can have your brain or body frozen in liquid nitrogen in an effort to preserve you until a time in the (perhaps distant) future when science will have come up with a way to resuscitate bodies and prolong life.  I'm seriously considering it myself (my brain, at least), as I think it's worth the risk/cost.  (Besides, worst case scenario is that it doesn't work, and I'm dead anyway.)  Some might call that crazy; I call it covering all my bases, because I'm certainly not going to count on the existence of a soul and life after death as described by the religious.

Have I Rediscovered Religion?

No, not really.  It's actually much better than that.  Lately I've been listening to the audio book version of "The Singularity is Near" by Ray Kurzweil.  It talks about an imminent "singularity," which is defined as the point at which the rate of technological progress becomes so great, we won't be able to follow it unaided and the results may be totally unpredictable.  An example would be the creation of an artificial superintelligence which improves upon its design in very quick successive generations.

The author of the book thinks this point is relatively near.  He thinks it will happen by the middle of this century.  He talks about the exponential rate of growth in technology that has happened in recent centuries and in particular the last 50 years.  He claims that we are very close to developing biotechnology that could halt--or even reverse--the aging process.  Mr. Kurzweil himself takes an enormous amount of supplements which he says has greatly slowed his personal aging process.  At 56, he claims he was given the biological age of 40, for instance.  He also describes efforts to reverse-engineer the brain.  This is apparently very important if we are to develop full immersion virtual realities, which he believed (in 2004) would happen in this decade.  He asserts that nanotechnology will radically change our mode of existence, particularly when we are able to develop billions and trillions of self-replicating nanobots to perform specific functions in our bodies.

He makes a lot of other predictions.  I don't know how realistic his timeline of anticipated developments is, but his conviction is palpable.  For the first time since abandoning religious faith, I'm starting to feel a "hope" in something greater.  This time, however, my "hope" is based on a methodology that has a great track record for producing tangible, useful results--i.e., science.  I find it beautifully ironic that science, arguably religion's greatest nemesis, may be the tool that ultimately realizes religion's main promise: immortality.  Most religions provide for some kind of rationalization of death, whether by the continuation of the soul, reincarnation, resurrection, etc.  The problem is that they offer no mechanism by which it happens other than "magic" of some sort.  Science, on the other hand, has already proven itself by greatly extending life expectancies all over the developed world.  It continues to do so.  It not only prolongs our lives, but makes them less painful and more enjoyable.  In just a century we went from horse and buggy to automobiles and planes.  Cars can already drive themselves to a limited extent, and that technology will simply improve in the future.  There are also mechanisms in place and being developed that allow us to control robotic arms with brain signals.  There are so many things happening right now; the change and development is very exciting.

In the Mormon church, I was constantly reminded that we live in an exciting time--the last days before the coming of our Lord!  Of course, they (meaning all of Christianity) have been saying that for the past 2,000 years, so I'm not waiting by the phone.  But now I think we have very good reason to believe that we're living in the most important episode of human evolution.  We evolved biologically for millions of years before modern humans emerged some 100,000 years ago.  With the development of agriculture around 12,000 years ago, technological development could commence, and now in that short time span, we stand on the precipice of something big.  This is our defining moment: either we will transcend our current mode of existence in some way, or we will destroy ourselves in the process--because it is all too clear that technological development has never been without potential perils and side effects.  I feel confident, however, that we will overcome the challenges in front of us and realize our true potential.

A Mormon Just Believes

One of the many discoveries made by those coming out of Mormonism concerns the fundamentally flawed nature of Mormon epistemology.  Mormons often claim to "know" certain things about their religion.  During the first Sunday of each month, a portion of church services is dedicated to allowing members to get up in front of the congregation and "bear their testimonies."  Now, this "testimony" is nothing like what is normally associated with that word.  To a lawyer, for instance, "testimony" is typically an assertion of personal knowledge, belief, or opinion that someone makes under oath.  If an assertion is mere belief or opinion, it must be distinguished from knowledge. Knowledge must be based on your own sensory perception and cannot be based on hearsay (subject to certain exceptions).

For Mormons, a testimony is a statement of their "knowledge" of the truthfulness of the church or some aspect thereof.  So during this "testimony meeting," you will hear Mormons get up and say "I know the church is true" or "I know Joseph Smith was a prophet" or "I know that the Book of Mormon is true."  The problem with all of these knowledge assertions is that they conceal the mechanism by which the Mormons allegedly gained such knowledge.  You see, Mormons (and perhaps all religious/spiritual people) believe that they can deduce knowledge/truth by way of feelings.  They will often pray to God, or engage in some church-related activity, and simultaneously have some kind of inward feeling of peace, joy, or serenity.  This emotional experience can be interpreted in a number of ways, but in the Mormon context, it invariably will be seen as a confirmation of the "truth" of some proposition.

So when a Mormon gets up and says "I know the Book of Mormon is true," they're being intellectually dishonest.  They don't "know" the Book of Mormon is true in the same way that you know that you're staring at a computer screen right now, or that you know you had fruity pebbles for breakfast this morning.  Their "knowledge" is not based on objectively observable evidence, as is the case for virtually all acceptable claims to knowledge.  Instead, their "knowledge" is based on the interpretation of a subjective feeling.  To make an honest statement, they would have to describe the mechanism by which they allegedly gained their knowledge, such as "I was reading the Book of Mormon last night and had a strong feeling of peace and serenity.  I interpreted that feeling as coming from the spirit of God, and I believe the feeling signifies that the Book of Mormon is true."  It's important to note that this honest statement uses the words "interpret" and "believe," not "know."  All that Mormon really knows is that he/she had a feeling while doing a particular activity.  Anything beyond that is necessarily a reflective process of interpretation and belief.

I tried to illustrate this important distinction recently with one of my sisters.  During a road trip, she asked me what my thoughts were about the church (I recently "came out" to my mom regarding my disbelief, and thus word had gotten around).  I told her that I no longer believed it and that I viewed all religions as man-made.  A few more hours transpired on the road trip without further discussion on the topic, but when we were almost to our destination, my sister asked if she could "bear her testimony" to me.  I of course said yes.  She then proceeded to assert knowledge of various things, such as the truthfulness of the church, the gospel, and so forth.  When she was done, the following conversation took place (roughly paraphrased):

Me:  How do you know?
Sister: Because I feel that it's true.
Me:  How do you know those feelings signify that something is true?
Sister:  Because the spirit of God confirms it through feelings.
Me:  How do you know the spirit of God confirms the truth of things through feelings?
Sister:  Because I believe . . .
Me:  Exactly.  What you have is belief, not knowledge.

Now I didn't engage in this little Socratic exchange for the purpose of tricking my sister.  I did it for the purpose of making an important point: ultimately, Mormons just believe.  Mormons are not accustomed to having their claims to knowledge (testimonies) challenged; at least, not past the first level.  But the regression incited by a series of "How do you know" questions will ultimately result in an admission of belief, not knowledge.

Many readers might be thinking "Well of course, all religious claims require faith/belief."  True!  But in that case, call it what it is.  Don't claim to have knowledge of something when all you really have is belief.  That is dishonest, confusing, and even a little arrogant.  If I claimed to "know" that Alex shot Bob, but then upon further inquiry it is revealed that my basis for knowledge is that Carl told me that Alex shot Bob, then you would rightly resent my initial misleading statement.  All I know is what Carl told me.  Anything beyond that is, of necessity, belief.  (Even worse, what if my claimed knowledge was based on a feeling/hunch!)  Similarly, if Mormons claim to know that Jesus lives, then I would hope their basis for knowledge is that a bearded guy with marks in his hands and feet walked across their swimming pool, introduced himself as "Jesus," shook their hand, and then turned the water in the pool into wine.  If their claim to knowledge is simply that they had some kind of emotional experience while praying or thinking about Jesus, then all they have is belief, and that is all that they should claim.

As the following video hilariously illustrates, a Mormon just believes.

On Being a Mormon Male: the Priesthood

In the Mormon church, the men are given what is called the "priesthood."  The priesthood is believed to be the power/authority of God to administer church ordinances (sacraments), perform miracles, heal the sick, heck even create worlds.  Mormons believe that this power was given to the apostles by Jesus, but was lost from the earth when all the original apostles died.  They believe that it was then restored to the earth through angelic visitors (first, a reanimated John the Baptist, and later, Peter, James, and John) to Joseph Smith, the church's founder.  The "priesthood" is a pretty big deal to the church and they take it very seriously.  Needless to say, the actual events of the priesthood "restoration" are highly dubious, as discussed here.

Nevertheless, the priesthood plays a major role in the Mormon church today.  Only men receive it.  Women are (conveniently) assigned the task of child bearing and rearing, so that is their equivalent function.  Mormons believe that the priesthood is required to receive special revelations on behalf of the church or congregations, and thus church leadership is dominated by men only.  There is the concept of "honoring" one's priesthood, which essentially means serving in the church, doing what you're told, and following the rules.  Mormon men will ascend the ranks of church leadership to the extent they are believed to "magnify" and honor their priesthood responsibilities.

Authorities in the church are highly respected.  A bishop, for example, is a man called to oversee a single Mormon congregation (termed a "ward"), much like a pastor.  He is generally highly esteemed by his members and other congregation leaders.  Above a bishop is a stake president, who oversees a cluster of wards.  He, in turn, is even more highly esteemed and respected by the members of these wards.  Above the stake president are regional authorities, area authorities, and then the top echelons of church leadership: general authorities.  These men are called "seventies" (of the first and second quorums of the seventy) and above them, apostles (the quorum of the twelve apostles).  These men are revered and practically worshiped by faithful church members, many of whom believe that these men are in frequent, direct communion with God or Jesus.

Because church leaders are so respected, there is latent competition to aspire to leadership positions.  This competition is reinforced by many Mormon women, who are taught from a young age that they should only marry a "worthy priesthood holder" who can take them to the Mormon holy temple for eternal marriage.  Thus, Mormon women will often demand, either openly or privately, a mate who "honors his priesthood."  (If you browse any Mormon dating websites, you will see language to this effect.)

Now all of this would be well and good if "honoring" the priesthood was the equivalent to being a good person.  But that is not the case.  Now, to be fair, there will be substantial overlap in the Venn diagram of "Honoring Priesthood" and "Being a Good Person," but the overlap is not complete.  The two are not one and the same.  To be a good priesthood holder, you must attend countless meetings which take away from time with your family, or time better spent fostering meaningful relationships with friends or the community.  You will also be expected to frequently attend the Mormon temples, where "service" is done for dead people.  (That's right: service....for dead people.)  You will be expected to fulfill church assignments that may or may not be productive, needed, or useful (e.g. visiting people who have no desire to be visited).

One might object at this point and say that all the "negatives" I just mentioned are simply in addition to what it takes to be a basic, good person.  A Mormon might say that honoring his priesthood means doing all the good things in the "Being a Good Person" circle in the Venn diagram, and then some.  In their minds, perhaps, the "Honoring One's Priesthood" circle fully encompasses the lesser "Being a Good Person" circle.  For the reasons stated above, I disagree.  There is only so much time in the day, and aside from basic responsibilities such as work and living, a Mormon man will have a relatively small budget of time with which to do other things.  Often, he will be forced to choose between tasks required to honor his priesthood responsibilities, or activities that might strengthen his bonds with family and friends.  He cannot be in two places at once, so a choice must be made.  And, needless to say, church assignments are not categorically more worthy of one's time than family activities.  They also are certainly not automatically better than many other activities not related to family at all.

On a separate but related topic, the Mormon priesthood allows Mormon males to develop a certain aspect of their personality that is of limited practical value, but which still enjoys high artificial value in the minds of Mormons.  This can be illustrated in the competitive world of mate selection.  In the real world, men will compete for the attention of women based on looks, intelligence, personality, and sense of humor.  All of these factors play a role in the Mormon world, as well, but there is one "trump" factor in the form of spirituality and the priesthood.  A man may neglect to develop other real-world facets of his persona that might make a normal man attractive or competitive in favor of one that is only valuable within the Mormon religious context.  So who cares if the Mormon man has let himself go physically and has the personality of a wet towel: at least he's spiritual and attends all his priesthood meetings!  If Mormons were completely isolated from the real world, perhaps this warped values system would work out just fine; but they're not.  And to the extent these less useful characteristics are reinforced and propagated to the next generation, they serve as a great disservice to Mormons trying to function in the real world.  Outside of the church, no one cares that you attend your priesthood meetings or have hundreds of scriptures memorized.  Such skills have little practical value.

I have often thought of Mormonism as a big bubble, just waiting to burst.  People toe the line and keep reaffirming beliefs because they see everyone else doing it.  The value attached to honoring one's priesthood is similarly a bubble.  As more and more people come to realize how tenuous and preposterous this priesthood notion is, the bubble will eventually burst.  Lord have mercy on the Mormon men at that time who have sunk so much capital into this worthless asset.  For them, it may be too late to develop the skills and character necessary to make it outside of the church.

"Church Leaders Aren't Perfect"

Critics of past or present Mormon church leaders are often met with this retort by believing Mormons or apologists.  It is variously put as "Prophets are imperfect men when not speaking under the power and inspiration of the Spirit" or "the church is perfect but its members/leaders aren't."  Okay, I agree that no Mormon "prophet" has ever been perfect.  However, I don't know that this excuse has the explanatory power commonly attributed to it.

This justification might account for inadvertent mistakes.  For example, a miscalculation of how long it might take to cross the plains, or how much food would be needed for the journey.  That could be a product of well-intentioned but erroneous thinking.  Another more 'innocent' mistake might be found in Joseph's loss of the 116 pages.  He certainly didn't intend for them to be lost, but he ultimately ignored his reservations and allowed Martin Harris to take them; sure enough, they were never seen again.

But many (perhaps most) of the criticisms leveled against these imperfect prophetic personages do not involve innocent or inadvertent (negligent) mistakes.  Rather, they are deliberate and calculated actions for which no apology is offered or expected.  These are not "oops" moments.  They are not "I used my best judgment, but things went awry" situations.  You don't accidentally or carelessly marry 14-year-old girls.  You don't mistakenly order the slaughter of hundreds of men, women, and children.  You don't accidentally concoct a bunch of nonsense and call it a literal translation of ancient Egyptian papyri.  You don't mistakenly ban the priesthood from a certain race for over 150 years.  You don't accidentally teach false notions on the origin of Adam and God.  Indeed, when it comes to spiritual matters, this is supposed to be the domain and expertise of the Lord's anointed.  If there is documented proof that prophets taught concepts that are now declared false doctrine by the church, how does one trust anything else said prophet ever declared?

This excuse should never be used as a blanket get-out-of-jail-free card.  Each incident should be evaluated individually to determine whether the man in question made an honest mistake in judgment, or whether he usurped his authority and deliberately did something deplorable.  Some situations may be a combination of the two.  This notion, like many others in the church, serves as a substitute for critical thinking and keeps naive Mormons in blissful ignorance.  It needs to go the way of the dodo.

Two Problems with Christianity

During my journey out of Mormonism, I briefly courted the idea of reverting to regular Christianity.  (Mormonism is a form of Christianity, although it is a topic of heated debate as to whether the church sufficiently focuses on Jesus.)  This may have lasted a month or so.

But I found Christianity to be almost as easily dismissible as Mormonism.  (And this was before I read books about how the New Testament was compiled and who the historical Jesus actually was.)  Christianity, as I understand it, relies on a central premise that all of us sin and thus become unworthy to be in God's presence.  To remedy this, we have to repent and forsake the sins.  But for some reason, the Christian God either cannot or will not forgive sins without someone else suffering for them.  And that's where Jesus' suffering and death come in.  Apparently God needed to punish Jesus (or himself, if we're supposed to make any sense of the trinity) in order to be able to forgive mankind their sins (including the "original" sin of Adam).

If this is true, that God cannot (or will not) forgive sins without punishing someone innocent, then what does that say about him?  Perhaps that he is petty, immature, cruel, and unjust?  How is it that God, the all-knowing, all-powerful ruler of the universe, requires the punishment of an innocent person to "atone" for the sins of others?  Why can't he do what we regular mortals do all the time: forgive and forget.  Or, if a law has broken, sentence the wrongdoer to a punishment that is proportional to the wrong, and once the sentence is served, he/she goes free.  If you wrong me, and then ask for forgiveness, I'll probably give it to you (depending on the wrong).  Maybe I'll require you to make some sort of recompense in the process, but hey, that's fair, right?  What I won't do is take out the "pain" of your wrong on some innocent third person, like my neighbor or my dog.  If I can forgive without making anyone else atone for the "wrong," then why can't God?  If God is concerned with our sins, there is nothing preventing him from just telling us the right way, and then independently deciding to forgive us (and/or punish) when we do wrong.  No middleman necessary.  Because Jesus is thus unnecessary, I don't believe he is a "savior" of anyone.

Mormonism tries to explain the need for an atonement by claiming that God's justice cannot be "robbed" by mercy.  Apparently, there are some cosmic laws of justice God is subject to that not even he can abrogate.  But in that case, God is no longer omnipotent, and how can we trust that he'll be able to "save" us at all? The Mormon explanation also seems to ignore the question of why God can't simply satisfy justice by punishing us directly and individually for our sins.  Would that really be so hard?

That's the first problem I see.  The second is hell.  Traditional Christianity teaches us that hell is a place of endless torment for those who sin or don't believe in Jesus.  Setting aside the criteria that determine whether one goes to hell or not (which I think is an unnecessary discussion, given the following), consider the concept of hell itself and how it squares with a just God.  Our mortal existence is indisputably finite.  But Christianity would have us believe that our souls will live forever.  Therefore, being sent to hell represents an infinite punishment.  That means that an infinite punishment is inflicted for actions/thoughts which are, by necessity, finite.  That doesn't match up.  If there is some system of morality that dictates the gravity of "sins," then theoretically there should be some corresponding system of punishment commensurate with the severity of such sins.  It doesn't matter what sins you committed during your lifetime.  Even Hitler's atrocious actions, while incomprehensibly abhorrent, were still finite.  Thus, not even he deserves an infinite punishment.  Surely there would be some punishment that would be commensurate with his bad acts.  Maybe it requires him to suffer in hell for an equal amount of years as the cumulative amount of life that he took.  God could figure out a proper number (he's all-knowing, after all).  What is certain, however, is that a just God could not possibly sentence someone to any degree of infinite punishment for wrongs that are, by definition, finite.  Thus, traditional hell is out of the question, and so is traditional Christianity.

Again, Mormonism tries to get around this obvious injustice by creating the three degrees of glory and then outer darkness.  But that really doesn't solve everything.  First of all, outer darkness would basically be the Mormon equivalent to Christianity's traditional hell.  So again, if anyone goes there (indefinitely) for deeds done in this life, it flies in the face of justice and must be rejected.  Also, the lesser degrees of glory don't really solve the problem, either.  Mormonism believes that once you're sent to one kingdom, you cannot progress to any other.  Thus, you are essentially "damned," in the literal sense of the word.  It makes no difference that apparently the lesser kingdoms are still places of glory and wonder.  They represent an infinite punishment for thoughts and actions done during a finite existence.

So there you have it.  Two of the central doctrines of Christianity are faulty.  It seems perfectly clear to me now, but when you're caught up in the system, you don't think to critically examine fundamental doctrines in this manner.  In the Mormon church you'll hear people talk about how the atonement is such a mystery and is difficult to comprehend.  The reason for this is, presumably, that it's such a deep doctrine.  Well that's not the case at all.  It's difficult to comprehend because it doesn't make any sense.  It's counter intuitive.  It doesn't match up with our real world experience.  It's nonsense.

Why a Rational Thinker Leaves the Mormon Church

I read the following letter/essay the other day:

http://pearceonearth.com/why_i_left_the_mormon_church.pdf

As I was reading this letter, I almost felt like I was reading my own thoughts.   The first issue he tackled was the unreliability of "spiritual" experiences as indicators of objective truth.  "Exactly!" exclaimed my mind.

And then on down the list of many of the bigger issues that expose Mormonism as a fraud.  He made a few minor exaggerations here and there, but by and large I thought his treatment was fair.  The letter wasn't long enough to give in-depth treatment of the issues, but he summed it up pretty well.  I've been working on my own list of "issues" I have with the church.  Maybe later I'll post them all.

In a past life, I might have looked at the similarity of thought patterns and conclusions between myself and this author and thought "Wow, there must be some guiding force [God] to our thoughts.  This is inspiration!"  I would often think things like this when reading the Ensign and seeing the apostles say certain things that I had previously thought up independently.  I saw this as evidence of the Holy Ghost speaking the same thing to our independent minds.  Now I think that people who think about the same topics long enough will come up with similar "inspiration" related to those topics.  So now, when I read this letter, I just think "This must be how rational minds think their way out of the church."  It makes sense that the rational path out of the Mormon church (or any religion) would be similar for most people.  Conversely, it makes sense for the irrational path into the Mormon church (or any religion) to be similar for most people.  This is the brilliance behind testimony meetings.  Have people get up there and share their stories (which will often be highly similar to the stories of many others in the congregations), and you get a crowd of people thinking that they're interconnected by some higher being.  Not at all.  They're simply thinking in similar ways about similar topics.