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223 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 1, 2022
We might feel that Christianity is unequal, cruel, coercive, ignorant, anti-science, restrictive or backwards. That is, in fact, a pretty common list of objections to the Christian faith, and, at points, the shoe fits. But I didn't pick those seven objections at random. I simply reversed the seven core values at the heart of this book. The reason why those seven accusations bite is because, deep down, we believe in the seven values. Our problems with Christianity (and we all have problems with it, especially Christians!) turn out to be Christian problems.
[p 16-17]
• Consider equality: once, steep moral hierarchies were the norm; now we want to root out inequalities wherever we find them.
• Consider compassion: once, pity for the undeserving was considered a weakness; now we consider it a virtue.
• Consider consent: once, powerful men could possess the bodies of whomever they pleased; now we name this as the abuse that it is.
• Consider enlightenment: once, education was a luxury for rich men; now we consider it a necessity for all.
• Consider science: once, knowledge of the natural world was based on the assertions of authorities; now we hold the powerful to account and we seek to test such claims against objective standards.
• Consider freedom: once, it was assumed that certain classes of people could be enslaved; now we consider that idea a kind of "blasphemy".
• Consider progress: once, history was thought of as a descent from a golden age; now we feel that the arc of history bends, or should bend, towards justice.
These are our credal convictions, and, by and large, we are a society of believers. So thoroughly do we assent to these values that we rarely notice how weird they are, or how WEIRD we are for holding them. But with these morals in place, we have found that we can discard institutional Christianity yet carry on with the moralising. In fact, the moralising, far from receding, is coming to the fore. This has been a shock to many.
[p 197]
Let me list some widespread criticisms of the church, and as I do so, let me put each of them in the first person, because Christians too wrestle with these issues. Here is the point though (and you won't be surprised to hear me repeat it once again): we wrestle with them for Christian reasons.
If I don't like the violence of Old Testament wars, or of church history in the last 2,000 years, it's probably hecause I've absorbed the teachings of one who said, "Put away your sword".
If I recoil at Israel's ancient practice of slavery, it's almost certainly because I've inherited biblical notions of redemption, freedom and equality.
If I'm devastated by church abuse scandals, I'm standing with Christ and against the misuse of sex and power endemic to human cultures.
If I abhor instances of the church mistreating minorities, I'm assigning a sacred (and distinctly Christian) value to the weak, the poor and the oppressed.
If I consider the church to be on the wrong side of history, I'm considering history and progress in thoroughly biblical ways.
If I hate the bullish colonialism that has at times accompanied the growth of the church, I'm agreeing with profoundly Christian ideals--that rulers should serve, not dominate, and that differences should be valued, not dissolved.
I could go on.
The litany of Christian crimes is long. But notice what is happening even as I air these genuine grievances. I am holding institutional power to a higher account—an incredibly biblical impulse. What's more I'm confessing, on behalf of institutional Christianity, to some terrible behaviours. Again, such confession is deeply Christian.
[p 224-225]
"We consider 'justice' to mean the equalising of persons. The classical world considered justice as the enforcement of inequality; that was what nature intended." (30)
"Science observes the ruthless winnowing of the weak and the favouring of the strong. If this is the way of nature, what reason can we give for behaving any differently? 'There is nothing particular about man. He is but a part of this world,' said Heinrich Himmler, the chief architect of the Holocaust. If we are simply a part of nature—and if there is nothing above nature—then what can we do but live according to nature? And we know what nature does: it selects the strong and discards the weak. To avoid such genocidal conclusions, we need a morality that is beyond nature, above nature—something super-natural, you might say. And in history there has been a unique movement that transcends the brutal laws of nature. If natural selection means the survival of the fittest and the sacrifice of the weakest, Christianity is about the sacrifice of the Fittest (Jesus Christ) for the survival of the weakest (us)." (64-65)
"Compassion describes the life of Christ, and it’s meant to describe the life of the Christian. But these were incredibly strange ideas to Roman ears. We might be familiar with the idea that God loves the world (whether or not we believe in God or his love), but the historian Larry Hurtado calls the notion, 'utterly strange, even ridiculous … in the Roman era.' We take for granted the idea of a 'love ethic, but historians 'simply do not know of any other Roman-era religious group in which love played this important role in discourse or behavioral teaching.'" (71-72)
"So how much is a little girl worth? We answer, 'Everything'. Others in history would laugh at us, all the way to the brothel. Why the difference? In a word: Christianity." (83)
"There is a reason why Latin has 25 words for a prostitute and none for a male virgin. Those two facts were very much linked." (86)
"Paul is insisting on complete mutuality [in 1 Corinthians 7:4 - "For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does."] The married couple are to belong to one another as equals. It’s hard for us to appreciate how stunning this was. Today we take such mutual consent and commitment for granted. But we take it for granted now because it was radical then. In the ancient world, the gods were violent rapists, sexual agency was solely in the hands of powerful men, and sexual misbehaviour consisted in the violation of reputations, not of bodies or wills. Into this world came the Christian revolution, where sex is painted on the canvas of divine romance and where two equals unite in a sacred and unbreakable bond." (94)
"In the ancient world sex with boys and girls was not merely tolerated; it was celebrated [....] What the classical world called love, Christians called abuse [....] The evil of child sexual abuse represents perhaps the moral certainty of our day. But our day needs setting in historical context. We view things on this side of the Jesus movement: 'the single greatest breakthrough against child abuse'. Before and without Jesus, it is not always clear to people 'what a little girl is worth'". (96-97)
"The straight line which condemns the Crusades is precisely the sign under which they fought: the cross. The name 'Crusader' derives from the Latin for cross (crux) and means 'one marked by the cross'. The common way to refer to a Crusader journeying to Jerusalem was to say they were 'taking up their cross'. This was a deliberate echo of Christ’s own command: 'Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me' (Matthew 16:24). On Jesus’ lips, this meant to bear suffering. For the Crusaders it meant to inflict it. The contradiction was grotesque but not all were blind to it. During the fifth Crusade, for instance, Francis of Assisi (1181–1226) travelled to the battlefield (at this point in Egypt) and tried to dissuade the soldiers from violence and persuade them of persuasion instead. [...] If we are outraged by the Crusades—and we should be—that is Christian outrage we’re experiencing." (114, 115)
"We believe that there is a fundamental difference between words and violence. We believe that force is not the way to extend your influence, but persuasion is. Where did we get these notions? It’s Jesus who taught us to 'put away your sword' (Matthew 26:52, NLT), and it’s Paul who, instead, urged Christians to use 'the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God' (Ephesians 6:17). Wickedly, the Inquisition used harsh means to bring about coercion. But if we believe instead in gentle means, it’s the unique foundations of Christianity which will give best support." (116-117)
• "If you put aside the Bible, the fact that the mysteries of the cosmos can be probed by a three-pound (1.4kg) human brain is an unexplained miracle. For an atheist, it’s a miracle without a miracle-maker. Yet with Genesis 1 in hand, the miracle makes sense, and the foundations of science are laid." (134-135)
• "The celebrated historian of science I. Bernard Cohen notes, 'The idea that a Copernican revolution in science occurred goes counter to the evidence … and is the invention of later historians.' Just as medieval Christendom gave us human rights, universities, parliaments and more, it also prepared the way for science. The 'conflict thesis' regarding faith and science does not stack up when you examine the evidence. (140)
"To imagine that human rights and equality are 'self-evident' is audacious to say the least. Self-evident truths are things like 'all triangles have three sides' and 'all bachelors are unmarried'. They should be things you can’t not know. But outside of a biblical foundation, no one in history—including the world’s greatest thinkers and moralists—has known about human rights. No one has seen in humans an inherent dignity and value simply by virtue of their membership of the human race. A survey of human civilisations reveals that the only thing self-evident about human rights is that they are not self-evident. If we’re looking for a human universal, slavery is a much stronger candidate: 'All known societies above the very primitive level have been slave societies'. Slavery is a universal. Rights? Rights are weird—'nonsense on stilts' as the philosopher Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832) characterised them." (151-152)
"As with church abuse, the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, and the Galileo affair, the point is not that these things weren’t so bad, all things considered. On the contrary, when all things are considered, these events are truly evil—Evil with a capital E. But their evil is judged by the good which they pretended to value. [...] When the truth of Christ is brought to bear (rather than borrowed as a bulwark for evil), the powerful are brought down and the humble lifted up." (162, 163)
"Everyone knows that kingdoms rise and fall—certainly the Israelites did. They endured the cruelties of the Babylonians, the Persians, the Greeks, and, in time, the Romans. But while the British Museum displays the scattered remains of those mighty empires, the kingdom of the Messiah continues to grow, just as predicted." (210)
"The resurrection explains what would otherwise be even more absurd. It says, 'There’s expansion because there was an explosion'—the explosion of Christ bursting the bonds of death and inviting the world into his triumph. To embrace the miracle is not to embrace nonsense. In fact, it’s a way to make sense of life. Resurrection explains why the Jesus movement did not die when he did. Resurrection explains why the Jesus movement continued its unlikely growth through many deadly trials. Resurrection explains why the Victim has come to be Victor. Resurrection explains why, far from being a tragedy, the cross has represented healing and hope. Resurrection explains why the pattern of all great stories—and the pattern of the meaningful life—is triumph through sacrifice. Most of all, resurrection explains Jesus. It explains why the one famous for his death has been encountered by billions as the one most fully alive." (218-219)
kindness appeared in the world because Kindness himself appeared—kindness enfleshed (Titus 3:4). Jesus is Pity with a capital P. He entered the pitiless realm of nature and suffered its brutalities. Yet in love, he chose the cross. And it was on the cross that Christ, the Fittest, was sacrificed for us, the weakest, so that we, the weakest, might survive—more than that, that we might be raised up, forgiven and filled with the life of his Spirit. (75)
The extraordinary impact of Christianity is seen in the fact that you don’t notice it. You already hold particularly “Christian-ish” views, and the fact that you think of these values as natural, obvious or universal shows how profoundly the Christian revolution has shaped you. (13)