In a previous post, Where Is God, we commented on an odd tendency we have, to ask “why doesn’t God [blank],” and then fill in the blank with something that shows why it seems justified not to believe He even exists. Perhaps what we put in the blank is that He should make Himself more obvious, or eliminate evil, or bless us more than He has. We have to be careful to distinguish between questioning God, and questioning the existence of God.
If there were no God, then it wouldn’t matter what we say about Him, because we’d be talking about a fictional character. It wouldn’t matter what we say to Him, because we’d just be pretending to speak to someone other than ourselves. It would make no sense to question that fictional God, because it would just be a mental exercise. We’d be sending our questions off into the air; questioning a non-entity.
But since there is a God, it does matter how we question Him. When we ask why God is not more x (more visible, more obvious, more giving, etc.) we are talking about One who, by His very nature, is not subject to nor subordinate to our ideas about who He is or what He should be. God is God.
Implicit in this kind of question of God, however, is a recognition that He is; and further, that the question is not pointless: that He cares about us and that He can act in a way that is loving toward us, whether we recognize that by His response now or not. This kind of questioning of God proceeds with a correct understanding of what we even mean by “God.”
Questioning the Existence of God
It’s a different thing when we engage in philosophical inquiry into whether He even is. There’s nothing wrong with questioning whether there is a God. But we should understand correctly what we question. We should not, in our imagination, demote Him to something more manageable by us. If we say there is no God because if there was He would be x, we’re forgetting that the “x” is of our own devising. In other words, by this line of inquiry about His existence, we measure His actions by our own measuring stick, not His.
The point is, that God’s existence is not disproven because we disapprove of what He does, or doesn’t do. What we’re doing, in that instance, is positing a higher standard – one we have come up with on our own — than that of God’s. That makes no sense. Attempting this just means we don’t understand who God is. He authors the highest standard for His conduct; we don’t.
We’re told by the culture that we should “question authority.” We’re encouraged to think of ourselves as rebels against stuffy conformism. Keepers of orthodoxy encroach on our liberty at their peril. We may treat hide-bound grumps and thoughtless Christians with derision.
Skepticism itself can become its own orthodoxy, however. It tends to be selective. Here are examples: the “Committee for Skeptical Inquiry,” and a group calling itself the “Skeptics Society.” Both cite current controversies or issues about which they express opinions. But why? If the point is to make skeptical inquiry, how does that translate to just one side of an issue? Both opine that there is man-made climate change occurring — to the point of calling those with whom they disagree “denialists.” But why? If the idea is to engage in skeptical inquiry, why not be skeptical about that position? If the idea is to be skeptical but only of conventional wisdom, they miss the mark, because they reinforce conventional wisdom.
Similarly, these sources are among many which opine that religion is for the credulous and weak-minded; that truth is discernible only from empirical study. This stance doesn’t make the skeptic position true, of course; it only games the debate by attempting to define non-material reality out of existence. But the point here is not that the self-styled “skeptics” are wrong about religion. The point is that they advance their point of view by wearing the mantle of skeptic. Why aren’t they skeptical about atheist materialism? Because being “skeptical” (instead of just opinionated) is cool. A skeptic can think of himself as removed, dispassionate, and rational. He can think of himself as going against the grain of conventional orthodoxy. He’s a “freethinker.” He’s not chained to bourgeois received wisdom. And so by being selectively skeptical, as a practical matter he’s adopted anti-religious orthodoxy — atheism.
Skepticism can become its own orthodoxy by another mechanism, as well, and this one is more subtle. A skeptic might object that he doesn’t embrace atheism, necessarily, he just doesn’t accept religion. But where does that leave him? It just becomes yet another ideological orthodoxy: a continuous questioning. Perennial agnosticism. It is a peculiar feature of our modern way of thinking, that we can allow (or attempt to allow) such important questions to remain unresolved. We feel that merely questioning is itself a sufficient mode of existence. We shrug the shoulders, and feel that indecision is a valid stance on its own. We tend to think of it as neutral rather than what it actually is — its own ideology.
The skeptic doesn’t believe “nothing,” because it’s not nothing, and he’s not on the vanguard battling the constraints of forced orthodoxy, and he’s not engaged in insouciant perpetual questioning. He’s actually as much locked into an ideology as those he criticizes, he just doesn’t see his own ideology for what it really is. Buzzing around the questions and never landing is thought to be as acceptable an ideological position as any of the alternative answers to the questions of ultimate reality. The question of God is in this ideology swept off into a corner indefinitely, to be ignored.
But, He tends not to be ignored very successfully. The possible existence of God remains unsettling. He continues in the mind of the agnostic as a frightening possibility. Often this translates to hostility toward those who seem so sure that God exists. Often it means settling down instead to a strident atheism, another way to try to drown out that small insistent voice.