The Seen Unseen
Bill Moyers also talked to Mary Gordon in that installment of his ‘faith and reason’ series. Gordon said a lot of interesting things, as she generally does; I like her, she’s shrewd, self-mocking, funny, and a believer in the non-triumphalist and non-accusatory (why don’t you believe too?) way that seems so out of fashion in the US. But I wanted to take exception to one thing she said because I think it relies on equivocation (though not necessarily deliberately), and it’s an equivocation that does a lot of work for believers of the triumphalist and accusatory variety.
Without faith we would be paralyzed. We believe that all men are created equal. That our mothers, or at least our dogs, love us. That the number four bus will eventually come, all these represent a belief in the unseen.
A belief in the unseen, yes, but that’s not how the word ‘faith’ is generally used right now. ‘Faith’ is used to mean either religion, in a flat substitution, as in ‘faith-based initiative’ or ‘faith school’, or pious ardent belief of a religious kind that is an antonym of empirical or evidence-based belief. So Gordon’s examples are tricksy; all of them. 1) We don’t exactly ‘believe’ or have faith that all men are, factually, created equal; we believe, in the sense of think (not really in the sense of have faith) that all people ought to be treated as equal before the law (and in some other ways, but not in all ways). That’s not really the same as having ‘faith’ that they are in fact created equal. 2) We believe or have faith that our mothers or dogs love us, for reasons. If our mothers or our dogs show every sign that they hate us rather than loving us, we tend to heed those signs, and think something is amiss with their love; that in fact it may have turned to hate. We don’t really have faith in a completely ‘unseen’ love of our mothers or dogs; signs of that love are seen. If the signs are not seen – if the smiles are replaced by frowns or stony glares, if the wagging tail is replaced by bared teeth (at the other end) – we don’t go on having faith in the unseen love, we conclude it has diminished or gone away. 3) The belief that the number four bus will eventually come is least of all like ‘faith’ as commonly understood. We believe the bus will come solely because of prior knowledge: we know there is a schedule, there are bus drivers, there is a bus barn, it has come before, it is supposed to come, people rely on it; and with all that we know perfectly well that it might not this time, it might have broken down or gotten stuck in traffic or even been driven off a high bridge onto the roof of an apartment building after a crazed gunman shot the driver. So the implication (if it is an implication – Gordon may have made the same point in the rest of what she said, for all I know) that religious faith is the same kind of faith as the faith that the bus will come, is a spurious implication.
OB, as you point out, the last is the most idiotic of all: the bus is not in any sensible sense “unseen”. You could drive to the bus depot and see it and talk to the driver. Further, you could look at the schedule and even follow the bus about on its journey.
There is a universe of difference between a bus which is unseen, because you don’t happen to be where it is at some particular time, and a supernatural being of which no material evidence exists.
One’s mother and one’s dog are agents that have behaviour patterns of their own; one can interact with them in ways one can’t with a bus, even though one knows the bus to be dependent on a similar agent: the driver. If one’s mother stops smiling or the dog bares his teeth, I expect even believers don’t instantly react with a thought like “Huh? What’s god doing?” They wonder what’s up with their mother or dog. With the bus it can be different, because people can tend to feel (despite the driver) that it’s an inanimate object with which they’re dealing, therefore anything it “does” isn’t “it” doing it, leading to an increased tendency to wonder about supernatural strings being pulled, especially when the bus being late has far-reaching consequences. I knew someone who was already on a bus, wanted to get off to get cigarettes, obtained a commitment from the driver that he wouldn’t go till she was back and returned to see him pulling away. She got on the next bus and was consequently one of those who tried to help survivors of the first bus, that had gone off the highway and plunged down a hill (in this case, not on its “own” or by accident; it was terrorism). I don’t think she saw herself as divinely saved, but who wouldn’t be spooked?
But surely, normally, when the bus is just late, one doesn’t get one’s knickers in a twist about theological implications. No, it takes a tsunami for that, because faith can get into a crisis about it, as it doesn’t about a bus that hasn’t yet come. What interests me about the comparison is that it seems to have to do with scale. The way god is described, he can handle all the billions of galaxies with no sweat, along with caring about everything in all of them down to the sub-atomic level. 24/7. And yet humans tend to invoke his presence more at some scales (of existence, of portent) than at others. Microbes with working parts that can only have been designed, us, earth’s atmosphere that permits us to breathe, the heavenly firmament, how could these exist without god? My bathroom wall, a mosquito bite, piles of elephant droppings, an oil slick, hay fever; why is it that these are slower to evoke the thought of a divine origin?
Am reading “Follies of the Wise.” In his piece comparing the Salem witchcraft trials to the repressed memory recovery movement, Crews says something most felicitously that is just as applicable to religious belief, therefore I’ll quote just the relevant lines: “… the key point is that Ockham’s razor, or a preference for explanations entailing the fewest number of unproven assumptions, is being laid aside: an explanation relying on mechanisms that may not exist [is forestalling…]” etc.
There are mechanisms whose existence is known and others that have been suggested without any certain knowledge that they exist and yet the latter are routinely not only not ignored and disregarded, but placed on an equal and often superior footing to the ones whose existence is beyond doubt. What did I say about “perverse” a few threads ago?
Stewart writes: “I don’t think she saw herself as divinely saved, but who wouldn’t be spooked?”
Well, I, for one, would not be spooked. What is there to be spooked about? People have just been injured and even killed, and I happened not to be one of them.
I trully hope she did not consider herself divinely saved. Only evil or very ignorant people tend to do that. I’ve read numerous stories of people whose belief in god was strengthened (or even gained!) because of an experience like this. “I missed my flight, and then all of the passengers were killed! Therefore, God must exist, because he saved me!”
The fact that he failed to save those hundreds of innocent people who didn’t miss the flight doesn’t seem to upset them all that much.
That being said, Gordon’s “analogies” are trully ridiculous.
I didn’t mean to justify belief because one happened not to have been killed. By “spook” I meant more the goose bumps one must get in realising how nearly one could have been killed, without then ascribing it to a divine power. That said, I think I have met far more people who react to that sort of thing with “It’s too weird to explain as coincidence” than not. Bottom line is, I think, a mentality that cannot adapt to the idea of things, especially fateful ones, not, ultimately, having any meaning beyond the surface events we have perceived.
We’re an egotistical species, aren’t we? We can comfortably accept the statistics of catastrophe as long as other people are involved, but when it is us, we look for significance outside of chance.
And you are dead right, Tea. ‘There but for the grace of god…’ deserves a serious slapdown.
Yes except there is another meaning of faith, which I think is what Gordon was playing on (not necessarily with intent to deceive – she seems to me more honest about the willed nature of theistic belief than most public faith-discussers); that’s why I mentioned equivocation. One can have faith in people, a friend, progress, the future goodness, etc. A kind of combination of trust, belief, loyalty, hope; a mix of emotion and moral commitments; but not necessarily irrational or anti-rational and not necessarily independent of evidence. So that whole passage rides on a mixing of the two meanings which really ought to be quite separate. Gordon ought to have disambiguated the word, but she didn’t.
That was answering GT, by the way. Since no one had said anything for more than 9 hours, I thought I was safe, but of course I crossed anyway. God intervening again.
“‘There but for the grace of god…’ deserves a serious slapdown.”
There was a huge amount of that after Katrina, as I think I’ve mumbled about before. Terribly sad, in a way – people saying ‘god saved us’ – so god hated your neighbours then? Those people floating around New Orleans, those people who died of heat and dehydration at the Convention Center, god hated them?
I think I like Mary Gordon. And also OB’s comments.
Just for the record, most Christians I know in the circumstances described would not think God had saved them (but allowed lots of other people to suffer a horrible death) or that suffering is good because it allows people to show compassion. Mothers willingness to think well of (un deserving) sons or dogs love of undeserving owners is a wonder; but I agree with your disaggregation of that kind of faith with belief in God.
Best wishes (I’m feeling very cheerful today – eldest daughter married in less than six weeks, interesting selection of readings- not just Paul but Ruth and Revelation, and new clients won)
Yeah, I like Mary Gordon too. I have some quibbles with her but I basically like her, quite a lot. There’s one very funny bit where she talks about her disgust.
She did a wonderful interview on Fresh Air a couple of months or so ago. I recommend that.
I love Ruth. Always have. (Also love many parts of Isaiah, and many other bits. The Bible is actually a terrific read. It’s just not a good rule-book. Or biology text.)
Certainly not a biology text. Like Ten Commandments. Love Job, Ruth Psalms. Kings & Chronicles are just annals with some exegesis in. The Bible needs reading with a lot of care if you’re not going to make very bad decisions based on it. That’s why the Church always used to teach that it had to be read with authority. Otherwise you’d end up believing Jonah was a true story rather than poking fun/derision at Judaic fundamentalists (ditto Ruth).
It’s strange that the same fundamentalists who are so against homosexuals, based on Leviticus, are happy to lend at interest, eat bacon and other forbidden food, mow their lawns on Sundays or Saturdays (take your pick which is the Sabbath. OT=Saturday, NT=Sunday). They get so wound up with anger that they don’t ever seem to have read the Gospels with any understanding at all. And I don’t think you have to be a Christian to read the Gospels with understanding.
Best wishes
Yes, the Bible is an excellent book. I just can’t see why you’d try to base a religion on it.
Don: “We’re an egotistical species, aren’t we? We can comfortably accept the statistics of catastrophe as long as other people are involved, but when it is us, we look for significance outside of chance.”
This is a characteristic of some individuals, NOT of our species in general.
I certainly do not think like that.
I was speaking generally, and I believe the exceptions are just that.
But if you did think that way, you probably wouldn’t be commenting here.
Don, how do you know I am an exception?