Tag Archives: bullshit

Seeking Conclusions About Fundamentalist Christian B.S.

Background

Four years ago, I met a fundamentalist couple. This was not my first encounter with people who want to believe that the Bible is God’s word. To the contrary, as detailed in another post, I had been raised as a conservative Lutheran, had become a Lutheran pre-ministry student, and had spent several years deeply engaged in the Jesus movement of the early 1970s.

I say this man and woman (let’s call them Jack and Jill) were fundamentalists. I have seen other terms for their general kind of belief — “evangelical,” for instance, and “biblical literalist.” Maybe those words would be more accurate. I will stick with “fundamentalist,” here, because it is the word I used in a prior post that I will be citing shortly.

We got along well, these two fundamentalists and I. It seems this happened largely because I listened to their views and did not make much of an effort to present any other perspective. I suppose diplomacy is almost always a part of friendship, and deception is always a part of diplomacy, at least in the sense of choosing what one dares to say and how one dares to say it. These are uncomfortable realities, but they seem to reflect how most people approach interactions with persons of differing viewpoint.

The Internet is often criticized for removing important human dimensions of communication. In Facebook, email, and other digital interactions, we experience each other primarily as collections of words, attitudes, and opinions. We don’t necessarily get the smiles, the body language, the things left unsaid. Such media can promote misunderstanding; they can downplay some of the best aspects of the experience of communicating with an appreciated acquaintance.

And yet such media can also be liberating, and can facilitate learning and awareness. The side of me that wants to be honest seems to fare better in this digital realm. Here, online, those of us who stay diplomatically silent in person are sometimes more inclined to demonstrate that we have thoughts and ideas too, and that those thoughts and ideas deserve as much respect as those of the person who dominates face-to-face conversation.

So when I was with Jack and Jill, I tended to sit and listen as they — Jack, especially — went on and on about various topics. He did very much dominate the conversation. Then, and in our subsequent online conversations, he showed little interest in my life or my views. To the contrary, he frankly admitted that he did not consider himself openminded. He knew what he wanted to know, and that severely limited what we could talk about, and how much respect I would get.

I appreciated that Jack seemed to feel that I was a decent guy. But I think that was because I did not make a serious effort to stand up for myself, to explain why I had concluded that his form of belief was false. As many have found, you become less enjoyable when you stop serving as someone’s admirer.

Fundamentalist Christian B.S.

I am not very well equipped to be an admirer of someone who promotes fundamentalist Christianity. As I discovered in my own pilgrimage, that sort of religion requires an extraordinary determination to lie to other people, and to oneself — or, at best, a remarkable inability to realize that one might be mistaken.

In those years of deception and self-deception, I did meet people who tried to get through to me, as I came up with Bible passages to explain other Bible passages, and explanations to explain other explanations, and so on ad nauseum, in a never-ending circle. The problem is obvious to me now: I was afraid of going to Hell. To avoid that, I had to “believe in Jesus” — which meant, bizarrely, promoting a kind of religion that was not remotely what Jesus stood for.

The religion I was promoting was a legalistic one, based on lawyerly interpretation and analysis of Bible passages — whereas Jesus had made clear his opposition to the lawyers and the scribes of his day. Consider these remarks from Matthew ch. 23:

Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Messiah. The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted. . . .

Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which on the outside look beautiful, but inside they are full of the bones of the dead and of all kinds of filth. So you also on the outside look righteous to others, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness. . . .

Therefore I send you prophets, sages, and scribes, some of whom you will kill and crucify, and some you will flog in your synagogues and pursue from town to town . . . .

Perhaps God did send us sages, in the form of scientists who contributed to our understanding of our world. How do Christians react to science? They reject it and cling to the Bible, as they always have done, from Galileo and Copernicus right down to evolution and global warming. Believers like science, when it says what they prefer — which is another way of saying that believers don’t like science at all, because science is all about questioning and seeking to replace one’s previous beliefs with better explanations.

(In these remarks, I don’t mean to suggest that secular science or liberal perspectives are always superior. I address that side of the table in 1 2 other posts.)

The fundamental problem of fundamentalist Christianity is that you can’t teach someone who does not want to understand. As soon as so-called Christians gained power in Rome, within a few hundred years after Jesus, they began to torture and kill people who did not interpret the Gospel their way. In the words of Jesus, these Christians were whitewashed tombs, seemingly righteous and yet full of lawlessness. And they only got worse, as elaborated in another post: they took over Europe and held control for a thousand years, from the Dark Ages to the Enlightenment, when people finally began to throw off the Christian yoke.

There was no humility in that sort of Christianity, no willingness to be the student. Bible-believing Christians always have been, and continue to be, proud of their ignorance. Indeed, they turn Jesus on his head, excusing and even glorifying their status as know-nothings, because Paul observed that not many members of the church at Corinth were wise by worldly standards. In the words of one interpreter of that passage, God “does not depend on education, philosophy, science, or any human device for doing His will.” As I learned during my fundamentalist years, real education is OK, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your Bible study.

If you were to think seriously about Jesus, you might focus especially on his message of love. “Love your enemies,” he said; “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” You might contemplate that message as you consider what people have done in his name — as they have diligently pursued the textual, lawyerly, scriptural project that he had nothing to do with. Think about it: he could have enlisted his disciples in the task of writing a scripture; he could have written one himself. That didn’t happen. But that was what his Gentile followers wanted, just as his Jewish would-be followers wanted him to be the conquering Messiah. So, like the Jews of his time, the Gentile believers of later centuries rejected who he actually was, and what he actually said, in favor of building their own preferred religion. From there, it was only a series of small steps to the point where, guided by Bible passages that he neither wrote nor authorized, his so-called followers would proceed to murder others, and each other, by the millions.

My other post discusses that in some detail. It speaks about the tortures, the abuses of prisoners and the mentally ill, the tolerance of slavery, and some of the other ways in which Bible-led Christians abused their centuries of power. Certainly the Middle Ages had their achievements — their Gothic cathedrals, for example, and their Gregorian chants. But, overwhelmingly, they represent a time that nobody wants to go back to. They demonstrated that a Bible-led society is a really bad idea.

And yet there I was, during my Bible-believing years, standing up for the Bible-based church. It’s not that I really approved of tearing people’s skin off in Christ’s name. Rather, like most fundamentalists, history was one of those subjects on which I was confidently ignorant. I didn’t necessarily know much about what had happened; but, whatever it was, I was sure that, now, we were past all that. We were on to something powerful and holy.

And yet, even there, I look back and shake my head. The Bible, itself, didn’t add up. For instance, fundamentalists see no problem in the fact that God forgot to number the chapters and verses of the Bible — that he needed human assistance to make those thousands of changes to the original texts of the manuscripts and letters now gathered together as so-called books of the Bible. God also forgot to even mention the Trinity, much less explain it — but that didn’t prevent the lawyers of fundamentalist Christianity from spending centuries sorting it out, burning Unitarians at the stake along the way for their failure to embrace this theological invention.

Bible believers do not ask themselves why, if God was unfolding his divine plan, the process of forming the official list of Bible books would require centuries of dispute — why, indeed, we still have disagreement among Christians as to which books belong in the Bible. Such believers are comfortable with the fact that, in a vast number of instances, surviving biblical manuscripts do not agree with one another — mostly in small instances, but sometimes in major ones. Somehow, Christians who find it exceedingly important to study the original Greek and Hebrew texts, so as to get to the exact meaning of God’s alleged word, are not in the least dismayed by the obvious fact that there have been hundreds of different translations of the Bible into English — disagreeing, again, on many small points and on some larger ones. To the kind of person who can swallow all this, it’s fine that the “original” Greek texts were, themselves, translations — that, historians tend to agree, Jesus primarily spoke Aramaic and probably knew very little Greek. The message is, never mind that, let’s study Greek anyway — as I did, for two years, during my own pre-ministerial studies.

Faced with such realities, an honest person will conclude that this Bible was not the work of a God seeking to provide a perfect text. Either God was not involved, or he was seeking something other than the human invention of biblical inerrancy — the notion, that is, that “the Bible is without error in all that it affirms” (BillyGraham.org). Certainly a person seeking to walk in the footsteps of Jesus, after reading his reported words about lawyers (e.g., “the lawyers rejected God’s purpose for themselves” and “Woe to you, lawyers!” — in Luke 7:30 and 11:46), will marvel at the legalistic acrobatics that theologians perform, in their desperate attempts to lawyer the Bible into submission.

Consider, for instance, how Bible.org tries to rationalize the many, often glaring, contradictions among Bible passages: it says biblical inerrancy “allows for variety in details in explaining the same event” and even “allows for problem passages.” To explain the latter admission, Bible.org says,

[I]t is impossible to provide solutions to all the problems [among seemingly contradictory Bible passages]. In some cases the solution awaits the findings of the archaeologist’s spade; in another case it awaits the linguist’s research; in other cases the solution may never be discovered for other reasons. The solution to some problems must be held in abeyance. The answer, however, is never to suggest there are contradictions or errors in Scripture.

So there you have it. The answer is never to suggest that the Bible contains errors or contradictions. Never is a big word. It means that no evidence of any sort will ever be allowed to shake the determination to make the Bible into something that the Bible, itself, does not claim to be. Because, let us be clear, what Bible.org says is not remotely found in the Bible itself. Unlike any halfway competent human writer, we are to believe that God did not have enough intelligence to simply list the books that he wanted in his Bible, provide authoritative copies of the originals, and give us what Bible.org has given us: a straightforward, definitive assurance that this Bible contains absolutely no errors.

There is no source other than the Bible that Christians commonly consider controlling in matters of faith, and the Bible itself fails to support the notion that its constituent books were all inspired or otherwise contributed or even influenced by God. Religious Tolerance offers a brief review of the passages most commonly cited in support of scriptural inerrancy — pointing out, for example, that when 2 Timothy 3:16-17 says, “All scripture is given by inspiration of God,” it could only have been referring to the Old Testament, because the New Testament did not yet exist. Defending Inerrancy illustrates the dishonesty of Christian theologians in such matters, claiming that certain statements by Jesus “speak to the Bible’s infallibility” when, again, the New Testament (focused substantially on the gospel of Jesus) would not come into existence until long after he had left the scene.

By this point, you might agree that, as I pointed out in another post, these Christians are guilty of blasphemy (commonly defined as speech conveying great disrespect) against their own God. According to Wikipedia, “Blasphemy has been condemned as a serious, or even the most serious, sin by the major creeds and Church theologians.” And that’s exactly what it is, when you make God out to be some kind of idiot, who failed to grasp the obvious need for these basic materials and statements, and thus has always been desperately dependent upon his so-called followers to help his religion remain viable. In fundamentalist Christianity, the followers are actually the leaders. They have thought of things that completely eluded their God; they are way ahead of him. No wonder they enjoy their religion — it tells them that, in their own way, they are the real masters of the universe.

Some Christian fundamentalists would reply that we should not second-guess God. But, in writings like this one, we are not second-guessing God. We are second-guessing Christian fundamentalists. If there is a God, it would be inordinately stupid to treat him as though he were stupid.

Rather than make the Bible into something that it patently is not, the humble and sensible thing is to take the Bible as it is. It is a collection of manuscripts, some pertaining to the Jews of the Old Testament, some to the Christians of the New. For those who find particular value in Jesus, the most important message of the Bible may have to do with his gospel. There is no denying that Jesus was, and remains, an extraordinary person with a remarkable message.

Goodbye to the B.S. Artist

As I say, I met Jack and Jill four years ago. A year and a half later, I wrote a blog post about some of my subsequent online interactions with Jack. Among other things, that post examined the practice of “lying for the Lord,” as I had once heard some Mormons call it. I summarized one section of that post in these words:

In several ways, then, it seems that pathological lying may serve as a relatively understandable (albeit informal and sometimes confused) diagnosis of the behavior practiced — indeed, encouraged — in fundamentalist Christianity. That impression would seem to apply especially to ministers and Bible students who waste enormous amounts of time trying to rephrase and repackage their beliefs in superficially credible terms.

Another section of that post offered some examples of online interactions with Jack and Jill. The main difference between them, for my purposes, was that Jill might express a view against vaccines, for instance, apparently based on nothing more than rumor; but if I questioned it, she would not waste my time inventing goofy arguments, playing games with words, or evading obvious points. Jack, by contrast, was a bullshit artist; as noted earlier, he had no interest in intelligent discussion. He knew where he wanted the discussion to go, in advance: it needed to reach a conclusion consistent with his fundamentalist beliefs — and he was going to get us there, by hook or by crook.

That, I think, was probably why I got out of Christian fundamentalism, whereas Jack will probably always stay in it. For all my attempts to invent scripture-based rationales supporting various conclusions, at the end of the day I was reachable. As described in another post, a professor did in fact get through to me: he listened to my arguments; he replied intelligently; I tried to work through what he was saying; a crisis of faith resulted; through strenuous efforts continuing for about a year, I concluded that he was right; and eventually I ceased to be a fundamentalist Christian.

When I realized that Jack was completely insincere, in the sense of seeking a predetermined outcome rather than the truth of a given matter, I unfriended him on Facebook. I hesitated to do that, but ultimately I had little choice: as illustrated in the other post, he kept inserting his irrationality into otherwise earnest discussions between people who were trying to explain their disagreements to each other. More than two years later, I still think that was the right thing to do. If you can’t or won’t be reasonable, I don’t want to help you bother people.

During the two years after I unfriended Jack, I continued to be Facebook friends with Jill. It was the usual Facebook interaction: she would “like” things that I posted, and vice versa. I would occasionally challenge her more extreme views, but those exchanges were invariably brief and to the point.

I assume Jack continued to be Jill’s Facebook friend throughout these past two years, and as such I assume he saw at least some of our interactions. He generally seemed to be a pretty mellow guy. My guess was that he saw that I didn’t care to interact with him anymore, and he was content to leave it at that.

For some reason, that changed recently. Jack decided to join in an exchange between Jill and me, probably because it was about a Bible passage and he is a minister. (He could inject himself into that exchange, on Facebook, because Jill had both of us as friends.) And immediately it was like old times: once again I was getting, from Jack, these long, rambling posts, unreasonable claims, and the same obvious desire to “win” rather than discuss. Here’s how it went in one such case:

  • First exchange: I posted a two-line response to Jill; she posted a two-line reply; Jack jumped in with two posts totaling 42 lines.
  • I did object to that verbosity. But eventually I took the bait and replied at some length. Jack (no advanced degrees) proceeded to explain things about the law to me (a lawyer). When I questioned that, he said he meant only to be discussing the law of Moses — on which he (having never studied theology, and having no substantial exposure to Jewish culture) felt that I (12 years in NYC; Jewish ex-wife; former theology student) had only “marginal knowledge.”
  • Seeing that Jack wanted to approach the Bible as a lawyer, I asked him for (a) “a straightforward statement of God’s intentions, regarding which laws are to be observed” and (b) a summary of the arguments against his position. Jack ignored those requests, choosing instead to bury me in another long, rambling reply.

I made those last requests, in part, because I wanted to see whether my impression was mistaken. It seemed to me that Jack just liked to hear himself talk, but I realized I could be wrong; he could be driving toward a coherent point in some way that I wasn’t recognizing. If he did have something specific to say (as distinct from trolling for interminable debate), it seemed reasonable to ask him to state, not his own point (which might have been construed as inviting yet another longwinded discourse), but rather the opposing points, on which he would presumably not expostulate at length. On the other hand, my exposure to counseling psychology suggested that, if he couldn’t say what his opponents argued, he might not be listening to them.

I might have had more patience with Jack if we hadn’t already gone down this road. I had written that previous post — I had rambled, in that previous post, I think — because I was trying to come to terms with, in some sense to gain some perspective on, this unpleasant kind of individual.

I don’t want to overstate the unpleasantness. In his (long) last remark, Jack did make some positive remarks about me. Unfortunately, he mixed them with some attacking remarks and some inaccuracies. It seemed to me that he may have found that he could keep people enmeshed in his debates by holding out that kind of olive branch. By that point, though, I really only cared that he had disregarded my reasonable request for a summary of what, exactly, he was disagreeing with.

Conclusion

From time to time, we must all deal with people who seem to be (or really are) disagreeable or unreasonable. In such situations, it seems best not to rush to judgment: sometimes those whom we find most annoying are those who have the most to teach us. At the same time, the person who strives to keep an open door and an open mind is at risk of being dragged into fruitless debates, or worse, with people who may be insincere, manipulative, or mentally ill.

I have recorded these reactions to this episode here because, as with the previous post about Jack and Jill, it gives me a point of reference that will remain readily accessible, long after the Facebook debate is buried — and also because, for more complicated or extensive issues, Facebook’s little posting space is not adequate. I hope these materials are useful, in the future, not only to me, but also to others who grapple with questions of faith, and with the frequently false statements that some believers make.

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Lying for the Lord: The Fundamentalist Christian Minister as B.S. Artist

Contents

Background: Lying For, or In, One’s Religion
Focus: Pathological Christian Lying
Case in Point: Debates with a Fundamentalist Preacher
The Core Epistemological Issue
Conclusion

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Background: Lying For, or In, One’s Religion

In a previous post (How I Came to Be an Ex-Christian), I mentioned a term I had heard from some Mormons: “lying for the Lord.” I had experienced something similar as a fundamentalist Christian. The concept was that we wanted and were expected to present our Christian faith in the most positive light, so as to persuade others to join us and be saved. We would lie about what we were actually experiencing, so as to make our lives and beliefs sound superior and desirable.

As described in another post (Bible Study: John 1:1. The Bible Is Not the Word of God), we were similarly untruthful in our interpretation of scripture: we would ignore what it actually said, time after time; we would invent bizarre readings that would give us some excuse to claim that the Bible was what we wanted it to be. We were not at all honest about the scriptural difficulties arising from our mode of interpretation, choosing instead to force-fit biblical texts to our preconceived notions.

This urge to twist the religion in one’s preferred direction is not limited to fundamentalist Christianity. For example, Loren Franck discusses “Ten Lies I Told as a Mormon Missionary.” Further afield, in a New York Times editorial, Mustafa Akyol states that Islam traditionally considers it blasphemous to mock Mohammed, and treats such blasphemy as a capital crime — and yet such views are not based on the actual words of the Quran (Koran), but were rather invented and added to the Islamic religion by later scholars to serve political purposes. As another example, scholars (e.g., Obekesekere, 2004, pp. 253-254; Seshadri, 1992) have indicated that so-called Hindu fundamentalism is another modern concept invented for political reasons, and is supported by neither the texts nor the traditions of Hinduism.

This post focuses on Christian falsehood simply because that is where I have personal experience. In the posts cited above, I described my own growing awareness that we Christians were lying to ourselves and to others. I was not alone in becoming aware of Christian untruthfulness. For example:

  • Brother Ken at Burning Bush Christian Crusades suggests that professing Christians lie because they have ceased to fear eternal damnation and because they have lost their reverence and respect for God.
  • Jaimee at CloseYourEyesDream.com says that Christians embellish their stories and tell white lies, in mundane day-to-day interactions, for reasons such as immaturity, lack of devotion to God, rebelliousness, and desire to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings.
  • Peter Davids concludes that Christians lie about sex in order to maintain a hypocritical denial of their own sexuality.
  • Jon Acuff proposes that Chrstians — especially pastors — lie “To hide what they’ve done or hide the fact they’re still not the person they wanted to be by now.”

The problem of lying has been acknowledged by Christian ministers, writers, and scholars. For instance:

  • In an article in Christianity Today, Ed Stetzer wonders, “Why do Christians lie about each other so much?” Stetzer points out that such behavior violates the Ninth Commandment, “Thou shalt not bear false witness [or “give false testimony”] against thy neighbor” (Exodus 20:16). That particular form of deception is distinct from the more general command of Leviticus 19:11: “Do not lie to one another.” Stetzer says, “We often give one another a pass when someone bears false witness because [we believe] they were being passionate for truth.” Stetzer seems to be correctly recognizing that Christians do not necessarily see God’s truth as forming a cohesive whole: they may decide that God would want them to defend a seemingly big truth by telling a seemingly small lie.
  • On the question of “Why Christians lie,” Jenny Rae Armstrong says, “I’ve had one too many friends leave the church because [their sincere questions were met] with a horrified gasp, followed by impassioned arguments that . . . came across as either ignorant or disingenuous.” Armstrong offers the example of political debate, where “we can get pretty worked up about those issues, defending our side at all costs, even when it compromises our character.” She suggests that such behavior, inconsistent with “the gentle humility with which Christians are supposed to express their faith,” arises partly from fear that the nonbeliever’s question is a good one to which the believer does not have an answer.
  • In an article in Relevant magazine, John Piper reviews a number of Bible passages and concludes that “lying may be acceptable in rare situations” but also that “the Bible never commends lying.” To the contrary, he says, “The mind has to be filled with falsehood-fighting truth”; the believer’s faith can conquer “the deceitful craving for esteem and safety and possessions that causes us to distort the truth.”

Google searches (1 and 2) led me, not only to the foregoing examples, but also to other writers who describe their own problems with and/or reasons for leaving fundamentalist Christianity. For instance, the unnamed author of the Path of the Beagle blog says he had been a creationist for 20 years; but when it came time to decide whether to send his kids to a Christian college, he ran into difficulties. The most upsetting discovery, he reports, was that “the people I had trusted the most — the conservative, Christian leaders at the top of the young-earth creationist movement — had been lying to me.” For him, this creation issue was “a real wake-up call.” Similarly, in an article on ExChristian.net, Michael Runyan reports difficulties with creationism among numerous other problems in Christian belief. On the subject of truth, he observes that Christianity has “overvalued the exercise of faith, or believing in things without supporting evidence” that “allows for unscrupulous people to dupe others into accepting on faith a false promise or assertion.” Such remarks suggest that believers as well as nonbelievers may be best served by a determined orientation toward honest truthseeking.

Focus: Pathological Christian Lying

People are often tempted to lie to protect or to advance themselves. With some frequency, they also encounter opportunities to lie on behalf of friends and family members. In addition, it is quite common to lie, and to be expected to lie, in service of one’s employer, customer, or client. A person who has no employer, no friends, no surviving family members, and few personal interests or ambitions, will tend to have fewer opportunities and motives for lying. Another way to think of it: juggling more balls at once will tend to increase their likelihood of interfering or colliding with one another.

So it seems that, if you consider it highly important not to lie, you would be well advised not to acquire many obligations, connections, and interests. Conversely, as you acquire more obligations, connections, and interests, it seems you may find it helpful, indeed necessary, to lie more frequently, on behalf of yourself and others. Failure to lie on cue — that is, being honest with people — may tend to result in the loss of various acquaintances and opportunities. Despite rare pockets of deep (but not absolutely reliable) integrity, deception (including failure to disclose information that a fully honest person would disclose) tends to pervade interpersonal interactions.

The sources cited above, and my own experience, suggest that Christian faith is an important interest. Adding it to one’s life greatly increases the number of things to lie about. That increase is especially likely if one’s chosen form of Christian faith entails — as fundamentalism does — conflict or incompatibility with a vast number of people, ideas, and experiences arising in daily life. It can feel as if everything, everywhere, is set against the Christian fundamentalist. There is a fundamentalist response — that this conspiracy of nontruth stems from Satan — but such a dramatic explanation is not necessary, nor does it address the command’s expectation: regardless of satanic influence, do not lie. Period.

No doubt the situation becomes less difficult when one does not know, or seriously care, what one’s religious texts or leaders may say. Countless people have attended Sunday morning church services, year after year, with little interest in theology, philosophy, science, or other intellectual areas in which their professed faith raises major issues. That is, even within Christian fundamentalism — even within a specific congregation — people may vary widely in the extent to which they see any need to distort facts or avoid the truth. It is no doubt possible to avoid some lies by avoiding certain kinds of discussion or lines of thought. Not that such evasion would make one more truthful; it may be merely a means of simplification.

There are also, no doubt, many people whose limited mental capacity leaves them unable to engage in deliberate falsehood on matters of religious belief. People can have brain damage; they can be severely short of logical capacity; they may operate under pervasive misconceptions that somehow leave them unable to grasp seemingly elementary conclusions. In the terms used by Jenny Rae Armstrong (above), there may be a distinction between those who are ignorant and those who are disingenuous, although determined ignorance probably amounts to deliberate deception.

Much the same could be said about fear. Fear plays a great role in the deceptions practiced by many Christian believers. People can be so afraid of eternal damnation that they hesitate to question their faith or otherwise step out of line. For social reasons, likewise, people may have simply concluded that a dedicated pursuit of truth often entails serious risks to personal survival in this world.

A concern with pathological lying begins to emerge, then, among certain subsets of Christian fundamentalists. Those subsets may include people who would commit any evil in order to save themselves, and those (e.g., ministers) who have a demonstrated commitment to or investment in the assumed truth of their beliefs. Such people could be honest about difficulties with Christian faith, but choose instead to cross the line, using falsehood and even absurdity to deceive people. When you see such behavior continuing for years on end, you might fairly ask whether this person is thriving in Christian fundamentalism precisely because s/he has no serious problem with the level of falsehood required to persist in that kind of belief.

Sarah Sumner examines such thoughts in a Christianity Today article titled “The Seven Levels of Lying.” Drawing on work by Budziszewski (2011), Sumner suggests that the most objectionable forms of lying are No. 6, “You develop your technique” and No. 7, “You see it as your duty to lie.” Within Sumner’s analysis, even these worst forms of lying are understandable when they seem to be required to survive and thrive within a dysfunctional family or bureaucracy. And that, in the view of many nonbelievers, is precisely the nature of fundamentalist Christianity: a dysfunctional entity compelling and/or encouraging falsehood. Consistent with that view, Dromedary Hump offers these quotes from famous historical Christian leaders:

Often it is necessary to deceive, and to do the greatest benefits by means of this device, whereas he who has gone by a straight course has done great mischief to the person whom he has not deceived. [John Chrysostom]

We should always be disposed to believe that which appears to us to be white is really black, if the hierarchy of the church so decides. [Ignatius Loyola]

What harm would it do, if a man told a good strong lie for the sake of the good and for the Christian church … a lie out of necessity, a useful lie, a helpful lie, such lies would not be against God, he would accept them. [Martin Luther]

But one need not revert to historical texts for illustrations. A search leads readily to the continuing stream of scandals in which priests, preachers, and evangelists deceive their congregations and the public about assorted financial, sexual, and psychological abuses. It does not appear that people of this nature would be good guides in the matter of how to live one’s life, much less the truth about one’s eternal salvation.

One often hears such people called “pathological liars.” But that does not seem like the right term. In an article in Psychiatric Times, Charles C. Dike (2008) notes that pathological lying (PL) is not a settled psychiatric diagnosis within the psychiatric profession’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5). (See also Mark D. Griffiths in Psychology Today, 2013.) Dike suggests there is nonetheless some consensus as to the core elements of PL: “excessive lying, easily verifiable to be untrue, mostly unhelpful to the liar in any apparent way, and even possibly harmful to the liar, yet told repeatedly over time.”

Note, then, that — at least by that sense of the term — a good liar and a pathological liar are two very different things. The person who obtains success, wealth, and/or power by deceiving and manipulating people may have some other kind of mental health issue, but s/he would not be a pathological liar — would not be, that is, telling falsehoods that are “easily verifiably to be untrue” or “mostly unhelpful to the liar in any apparent way.” His/her success comes precisely because s/he is good at misleading people.

Pathological lying (PL) — like psychopath and sociopath — is a popular assessment, used in assorted and sometimes conflicting ways, sometimes based on knowledge and experience but often abused by people with poor training or no training in mental health. A search leads to any number of people who claim expertise on the matter. For example,

  • WikiHow defines a pathological liar as “someone who tells lies habitually, chronically and compulsively. It has simply become a way of life for this person, to make up things for a variety of reasons and eventually, the truth becomes uncomfortable while weaving whoppers feels right to them. This kind of lying tends to develop early on in life, often as a response to difficult home or school situations that seemed to resolve better if the child lied. It’s a bad habit, not a manipulative trait — this is how to differentiate a pathological liar from a sociopath who does seek to manipulate.”
  • LoveToKnow says, “Pathological liars are people who tells lies when there is no clear benefit for them to do so. An individual who is not a pathological liar may lie to avoid punishment or ridicule. He or she may be less-than-truthful to avoid hurting someone else. When the problem of lying is at the point where the person is unable to control it, that person is considered to be a pathological liar. Even though pathological lying isn’t listed in the [DSM], it is considered a disease by some experts.”
  • New Health Guide says, in somewhat similar terms, that “A pathological liar lies compulsively and impulsively, almost without thinking about the consequences of his action. He lies regularly on a spontaneous basis even if he gains no benefit from it, or even if he traps himself into it. A pathological liar cannot control his impulse to lie and it is usually a self-defeating trait.”

Those materials suggest several observations. First, it may be true that — as I was informed by a source that I have cited in another post — the ministry is one of the ten professions most likely to attract psychopaths. Especially when one enters the arena of wildly unrealistic and dishonest claims about Christian faith and practice, It may take a remarkably cold and clever manipulator to keep on preaching, week after week, without any concern for the kinds of problems that I have discussed in the posts cited above. It is certainly interesting to read the suggestion, by Pater Familias, that “many fundamentalist Christians become atheists in college or seminary.”

Of course, not every minister is a televangelist with a congregation of thousands. As I know from observing the work of the Lutheran minister for whom I was an office assistant during high school, many work for a pittance, struggling to keep their congregations going despite congregational politics and negative and sometimes abusive parishioners. Ministers of this ilk — and many of the confused congregants who spend their week ping-ponging among dissonant theories of what God wants and what they have been doing right and wrong — may come closer to the concept of pathological lying. They are not seriously attempting to manipulate anyone, and would rarely be able to do so. They are just trying to string together a chaotic pack of random ideas in a bid to say something that, to them, sounds good at the moment — even if it does strike the casual listener as grotesque self-deception. This behavior often entails great costs, in terms of time and money wasted and opportunities foregone, including other careers that the minister might have pursued, and more truthful (and, probably, more rewarding) ways of pursuing his/her religious calling.

Dike distinguishes pathological lies from other kinds of disorders (e.g., Borderline Personality Disorder) by their “elaborate, fantastic, or complicated nature.” That description does seem applicable to the tangled webs of doctrine, and the incredible supernatural entities and events, with which fundamentalists weave together their ideas about themselves and their world. Dike also distinguishes “the blurring of fact and fiction that occurs in PL” from “the absolute conviction” experienced by delusional persons — which is interesting, in light of the contrast between the extraordinary claims that contemporary Christians make about miracles and other supernatural events, and the limited extent to which they demonstrate real belief in such phenomena.

In several ways, then, it seems that pathological lying may serve as a relatively understandable (albeit informal and sometimes confused) diagnosis of the behavior practiced — indeed, encouraged — in fundamentalist Christianity. That impression would seem to apply especially to ministers and Bible students who waste enormous amounts of time trying to rephrase and repackage their beliefs in superficially credible terms.

This tentative impression should be cushioned, again, with the warnings that pathological lying is not an established psychiatric diagnosis and that, if it is to be used, one might consider it a call for compassion, not a charge of willful manipulation. Without denying the harm done by such beliefs, nor for that matter the positive aspects of religious belief and community, in these specific ways these people are confused and, for the most part, cannot be helped, but are rather left to help themselves, often by growing more relaxed and less serious about the most problematic aspects of their faith.

Case in Point:
Debates with a Fundamentalist Preacher

I had been vaguely curious about lying by Christian preachers ever since hearing about Marjoe Gortner, an evangelist who exposed fraud within the world of fundamentalist ministry, in a production that won the 1972 Academy Award for Best Documentary Film. I lost touch with that sort of thing, later in the 1970s, when I rejected fundamentalism as a route to spiritual truth — although I did hear, with the rest of America, about fraudulent and abusive priests and evangelists throughout the years to come.

Despite my rejection of fundamentalism, I remained in loose contact with several fundamentalists, including a few with religious training and/or positions in the ministry. I was moved to write this post after repeated Facebook encounters with one of them. I was not deeply acquainted with that preacher (referred to here as “Jack”) and his wife (“Jill”); but within my face-to-face experience they were generous, nonjudgmental, and basically kind people. As often happens, however, our online interactions tended to highlight differences in our viewpoints. It was harder to think of the person as a whole, and to disregard various absurd or offensive things that s/he might say, when written expression became our primary means of interaction.

I decided to write this post for several reasons. First, as detailed below, I wanted to wrap up that series of Facebook encounters with Jack. Over a period of months, I had concluded that Jack was wasting my time with insincere and sometimes ridiculous remarks. It seemed best to unfriend him, so as to eliminate that source of fruitless distraction, and to direct him to this post if he was interested in an explanation.

Unfriending Jack on Facebook did not necessarily imply ceasing to be friends in fact; that would depend on future developments. Indeed, it seemed that removing Facebook from the equation might actually be beneficial to the friendship. At this point, it could hardly hurt. So it seemed appropriate to compose this explanation, and to leave it to him to see if he could understand and respond appropriately to it.

Second, I decided to write this post because, as in other posts in this blog, I had prior personal experience that I thought might be useful to others. As noted above, I, myself, had been a lying inventor of bogus “explanations” for the problems that arise when one takes a fundamentalist approach to the Bible. In that role, I may well have contributed to the confusion and pain experienced by fellow believers. I certainly was not contributing to any real solutions. As I observed various things that Jack and Jill posted on Facebook, I became concerned at the damage that they, and others like them, might be doing. I had been hearing, for some years, about what might have happened if people had not looked the other way when they found priests and ministers misbehaving. It seemed appropriate, indeed obligatory, to speak up.

So, as I say, I found myself engaged in repeated disagreements with Jack and Jill on Facebook. In the early months, these were limited to the occasional expression of dissent on some random item. Once, for example, Jill posted something like this:

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I don’t believe that was the actual item; it is just an illustration of the type of thing she posted. In this case, it was something about vaccines for children. She added a remark; as I recall, it was, “Don’t drink the Kool-Aid!”

I was aware that some parents were afraid that vaccines were more dangerous than the diseases they were supposed to prevent. But as far as I knew (and as still appears to be true), adverse reactions were rare and generally less harmful than the diseases in question. Indeed, it appeared that those who refused to vaccinate their children could pose an unreasonable threat to others. So I posted a reply, saying something like, “Polio, measles, tuberculosis — who would want to go back to that?”

There were several similar exchanges. At some point, reviewing my Facebook history, I noticed that Jill seemed to have deleted some of the posts to which I had objected, including the one about vaccines. It occurred to me that perhaps I had sensitized her to the existence of alternate viewpoints of which she had been unaware — that maybe I had helped her to recognize the foolishness of some of the things that others had been telling her. It was gratifying to imagine that I might have introduced some caution into her sharing of potentially harmful advice with members of her congregation.

Meanwhile, it appeared, for a time, that Jack enjoyed online debate. That was not the impression he had given in person. When talking in person, he had sometimes dominated the conversation, going on and on about his beliefs. I understood his viewpoint — as I say, I had been a fundamentalist and a pre-ministry student myself — but he had not seemed reciprocally inclined to understand and explore my views. Since then, online, he had described himself as not being open-minded. At some point I concluded that he was, ultimately, the typical preacher, primarily interested in telling you what to think, and not very interested in learning whether his way might be imperfect or just plain wrong.

So, to continue with the example of vaccines, eventually I did come to realize that Jill had not in fact learned anything from my remarks about vaccines. She was still agreeing with Jack, months later, when he posted this on that subject:

I have been accused of being crazy because I do not use vaccinations for my kids or myself as a general rule. If I suggest other listen to why I feel this way, then words like medieval, barbarian, cave man, etc. are thrown around. The only argument for being totally for vaccination that I have heard is the elimination of polio, or smallpox.

This seems like a pretty good argument, though, right? Let us explore this argument for a minute. The argument, as I understand it, goes like this: If by vaccinations we can eliminate the deadly disease polio, then all vaccines are good and acceptable to be used on every child starting with the day they are born. . . .

Who oversees the production of Vaccines? Government. Did you just shudder? I know I did! . . .

So, really, am I really that crazy? You do what you want. I will not call you crazy, even if I know better. I will walk the path I have chosen, regardless of your choices and demonizing of my choice.

To me, it seemed that anyone who had looked into vaccines at all would know that they were tested individually. There was no simpleminded acceptance of any and all vaccines, across the board, merely because the polio vaccine worked many years ago.

It was also obvious that the government of the U.S. had achieved remarkable successes, in projects that nobody else was inclined to tackle. Examples over the previous two centuries had included the fighting of the Civil and World wars, developing a reliable post office, breaking up monopolies, building an interstate highway system, and landing people on the moon. The presidents pursuing such projects, Democrat and Republican alike, had enjoyed wide public support for such initiatives. Certainly there were major mistakes in those and other projects. But it made no sense to speak as though governmental involvement, in itself, would automatically imply poor quality in a specific vaccination project.

In that area of vaccines, and elsewhere, Jack did not seem motivated to look into the facts of the matter before telling others what to think. Instead, he was content to hold forth with an uninformed opinion, notwithstanding its potential to cause serious harm to less educated or less capable people, including his own children, who might be depending on him or looking to him for guidance. In the case of vaccines, he and Jill persisted in this approach despite his report (above) that numerous others had challenged it. He received those challenges, not as evidence that he might be mistaken, but rather as “demonization,” as though others had behaved inappropriately in pointing out real dangers in his words and acts.

Over the months, Jack challenged a number of items that I had posted on Facebook. He was not the only person to express disagreement with such items. In his case, unfortunately, the challenges did not entail reasonable give and take, where one would strive to understand the opposing viewpoint before trying to rebut it, much less acknowledge credible aspects of that opposing viewpoint. Here, again, Jack admitted that he was not interested in an openminded pursuit of truth. He demonstrated no willingness to seek truths that might be painful or inconsistent with his preferred beliefs. Nor did he demonstrate anything resembling Armstrong’s gentle Christian humility (above). He did not even make a serious attempt at logical argument. The situation seemed to be that he knew himself to be right, on a given issue; he accepted that others were too blind to perceive their wrongness; and he was not very motivated to demonstrate his rightness and their wrongness in much detail. He just contented himself with tossing out a few hints pointing toward his personal wisdom, and leaving others to find their own way toward him and his Truth.

I don’t intend those remarks sarcastically. In all seriousness, that did appear to be how he saw things. Moreover, his propensity to insulate himself from reality was not limited to people like me, or to venues like Facebook. He was also insulating himself from the patent facts of his own scriptures. Jesus was not known for his love of guns and his insistence on a right to carry weapons, to cite another of Jack’s predictable areas of interest. (Jack would go on to start a sporting goods store, so that he could sell guns for the Lord.) Jesus was also not famous for his views for or against particular politicians.

Indeed, a casual reader of the New Testament might conclude that Jesus’s tendencies often ran somewhat opposite to Jack’s. What Jack knew was not really Jesus; it was just the culture into which he, Jack, had been born, and the ways in which that culture had distorted Christ’s life and words for its own purposes. Jack seemed to be the kind of person who, born in Iraq instead of the U.S., would have defended his family’s version of Shiite or Sunni Islam with the same narrowminded indifference to truth, selectively adopting or ignoring facts and arguments as needed to arrive at his preferred conclusions.

A few examples may help to illustrate the situation. Consider Jack’s responses to a cartoon I posted on Facebook:

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The cartoon could have said more — about the European wars of religion, for instance, and about the Spanish Inquisition, and about the behavior of conquering Christians in the New World, indeed about the history of Christian slaughter and torture going back to the time of Gregory of Tours, never mind the attitudes of people like Jack toward American behavior in the Islamic world over the past two decades — but the basic point was clear enough. Christianity has been secularized and restricted by relatively unsympathetic governments and societies in the West, and has thus become less of a threat in recent centuries; but its history presents grounds for serious concern that, if such controls were removed, people would once again be committing enormous atrocities in the name of Christ.

Jack did not want those things to be true of his religion. Like most fundamentalists, he was not very interested in the long and horrible record of violence committed by so-called Christians. He preferred to assume, as Christians have doubtless assumed for centuries, that his generation would be different. So in response to that cartoon, Jack posted several long tirades filled with tangential and in some cases nonsensical remarks. Each time, I replied with relatively brief rebuttals. I can illustrate the tenor of those exchanges with this excerpt from one of my rebuttals:

Jack, your remarks seem incoherent. I did clearly distinguish the fundamentalist branch of Christianity. See previous comment. It is self-contradictory to refer to the liberals as a mere “fringe” and then say they are responsible for causing wars: fringes do not have that power. Such a claim is also historically ignorant: there were virtually no Christian liberals at the time of the Crusades and the European wars of religion. Do present-day fundamentalists submit to secular government? Only by force. For decades, they have been seeking to make it less secular and more theocratic: Ten Commandments in public places, for example. Finally, I don’t know whom you’re accusing of defending Radical Islam; that’s certainly not me.

Of course, it would be easier to interpret that excerpt if I were to provide the words, from Jack, to which I was responding. Unfortunately, I can’t. That’s because, after several lengthy discourses, Jack decided to go back and delete all of his comments. I think that may have been the only time, in my several years of using Facebook, when anyone has done that. It seemed odd. Eventually, however, he did offer a bit of an explanation for this behavior, in a concluding post that ran to 419 words (i.e., the equivalent of nearly two double-spaced typed pages). Here is an excerpt:

If you feel I was calling you disingenuous, then that was not my intention. I said it seems disingenuous to hold all of Christianity accountable for the past actions of a few, then excuse a few Islamic groups using the past actions of that same “few” of Christianity. . . . I have not wish to further argue with you on the subject. If I would have wished to continue in the argument then I would have not erased the comments I have made. From any outside observer stumbling across this thread, It will appear you are the king of the hill on your Facebook page. If your goal is to stand uncontested in your opinions, then you have achieved it. You win. If you want to convince me that you have the right-headed thinking, then you will probably never win. I am as set in my ways as, I hope, you are in yours. . . . If you were offended by me calling you disingenuous, then I do sincerely apologize. . . . I am sorry I cannot do more for your complaints than this. God Bless you.

So, to paraphrase, Jack admitted calling me disingenuous, but also said he did not intend to call me disingenuous. What was disingenuous, he said, was to hold all Christians accountable for the past actions of “a few” — where Jack’s concept of a “few” can include a good chunk of the population of Europe. He did not clearly explain why he would remove his comments, but it sounds like he wanted to make it appear that I was arguing with myself. He started the debate, but then characterized my replies as “complaints” with which he was trying to offer assistance.

This did not seem to be the behavior of a sincere debater of belief. Frankly, given his repeated indications that he was set in his ways and intended to remain so, it seemed to be the behavior of a troll — of, that is, someone who had no genuine interest in shared pursuit of the truth of a matter, but who simply liked to provoke disagreements. It appeared that, when someone took the bait, he would treat their response as an invitation to share his own views at length — not for the purpose of genuine engagement or learning, but merely to preach.

That impression probably would have been too hasty, despite the absurdities in Jack’s argument, if we had just gone back and forth once or twice about that cartoon. It seemed less hasty, however, as the matter dragged out over the course of a week, each day bringing a new tirade. Some skepticism toward Jack also seemed appropriate in light of his reactions to a number of my other Facebook posts. Here is an example of a photo, to which Jack responded and I replied as follows:

Fracking

JACK: Oh no! the poor fish! (as I am filling up on gas that is cheaper than it has been in years)

ME: Unbelievable.

ME: Jack, maybe I’m misunderstanding your comment. It sounds supremely ignorant. Do you not go fishing multiple times per week?

JACK: I do not go fishing several times a week, right now. I have been fishing several times a week, though. What about any of you guys? Do you people like to fish?

Nobody replied to Jack’s question. I admit: as my reply indicates, he was becoming tiresome.

On multiple occasions, as in that example, Jack started by questioning or ridiculing what I had posted — but then, when I challenged his remarks, he would try to change the subject, or would claim that it was all just a matter of opinion or belief, and there was no point debating it. But it was not a matter of belief: it was a matter of real-world actions and their consequences.

Such exchanges seemed to support the widespread perception that Christian fundamentalists use the Bible as an excuse for sociopolitical views that do not always make much sense — and that, if they were in power, they would behave as fools who (in the foregoing examples) would help to see the environment wrecked and the country ravaged by preventable disease. I would like to say that Jack was unusual — that other Christian fundamentalists, in other private and public communications, have displayed far more responsibility and common sense. Unfortunately, too often, that has not been the case.

The Core Epistemological Issue

This post has looked at the topic of pathological lying, and at the problem of lying among Christians; it has looked in more detail at a few exchanges I had with a fundamentalist minister on Facebook. Ideas presented here could, perhaps, be developed into an argument that fundamentalist Christians, or a subset of such Christians, or at least some fundamentalist ministers are pathological liars, or psychopaths, or sociopaths. There might be some truth to such an argument.

That, however, is not the point here. Fundamentalists like Jack do not need to be psychologically screwed up in order to become bullshit artists. As developed more fully in the posts cited at the start of this piece, the real problem is not that a subset of such fundamentalists have mental health issues. It is that fundamentalism, by its very nature, is opposed to the search for truth. To the fundamentalist, truth comes from the scriptures, and from what one’s preacher or other accepted commentator says about the scriptures. The result is a mishmash of views, ranging from the reasonable through the murky to the absurd. People are so determined to have a religion, or to defend the one they were born with, that they will accept an enormous amount of nonsense rather than be honest with themselves, and with others, about the real world and about what their own scriptures actually say.

Epistemology is, in essence, the study of what we can know, and how we can know it. The epistemological question posed by fundamentalist Christianity is whether one can reliably obtain factual knowledge, as distinct from mere opinion, from the Bible, from Bible commentators, and from preachers like Jack. Even if there were no scientists for them to disagree with, it would appear that the answer to that question must be no, else there would not be such a plethora of divergent Christian denominations and cults, each insisting that it alone has arrived at the correct interpretation of scripture.

In that light, the primary issue of pathology arises at the level of the culture, not of the individual. In other words, the real question is not whether there is something wrong with this or that believer; it is whether the culture of Christian fundamentalism is itself sick. Such a question could draw upon the reasoning of Erich Fromm (1955, p. 15). Fromm, reacting to Nazi Germany, pointed out that “the fact that millions of people share the same forms of mental pathology does not make these people sane.”

Needless to say, not everything that Christian fundamentalists do is automatically stupid or evil. Taking a cue from Fromm, one must recognize that even Nazi Germany achieved notable advances — in medical and public health research and practice, for instance (Proctor, 1999). The issue is not one of pure good and evil. It is, rather, that regardless of the outcomes achieved, the means employed are simply not acceptable. The point is not that one should prohibit Naziism, fundamentalist Christianity, or other forms of belief per se. The more appropriate response is surely to demonstrate, and to keep on demonstrating, with rationality and human kindness, that fundamentalists are relying upon a flawed and often destructive worldview, and that there are better ways.

The example of Jack highlights a consequence of fundamentalist Christian epistemology. If you already know what you believe, and if nothing is going to shake you from it, then much of what the world cares about is just a joke. A person like Jack can post silly remarks about fracking and fish because he is more interested in taunting and ridiculing intelligent people than in thinking seriously and speaking responsibly on sociopolitical and economic issues. He doesn’t know, and doesn’t care, about many things in our world, because his religion taught him that all he needs to know and care about is contained within the Bible (with, of course, certain homemade additions about guns and politicians).

Jesus seems neither to have written down his own words, nor to have solicited anyone else to do so. But apparently that is not important to those who claim to be Christlike. In the behavior of the fundamentalist, who wants to support his/her preexisting culture by highlighting preferred Biblical texts and by interpreting those texts in preferred ways, the actual person of the historical Jesus can be surprisingly unimportant — which is just what Kazantzakis indicated, near the end of a film that fundamentalist Christians abhor.

Philosophers and scientists do not appear to be very surprised that Christian fundamentalism, epistemologically and fanatically rooted in an ancient book, has produced substantial amounts of folly and evil. That is because philosophers and scientists spend whole careers struggling to achieve small advances in the very difficult project of figuring out what one can really know, and how one can be sure that one really knows it. People doing that kind of work tend to realize that there are no shortcuts. It takes work. Lacking any commitment to that sort of project, Christian fundamentalists are left to fire cheap shots at things beyond their understanding, and to demand that their schools, their states — if possible, their country and their world — be managed in ways consistent with their ignorance.

Conclusion

This post has observed that Christian fundamentalism has a problem in the area of truthfulness. The post began with a look at individual experiences and concerns having to do with lying. There was a glance at concepts of pathological, psychopathic, or sociopathic falsification. But the primary concern was that the problem of truthfulness is endemic to the faith — that Christian fundamentalism is built upon, and glorifies, the rejection of the human search for truth. The false hope, and claim, is that the Bible (as construed by one’s preferred scholars) gives the believer a pass, an easy out, a way of avoiding epistemological engagement with the things that concern mere mortals. Private and public concerns about honesty, science, life, and other people are all subordinated to the words of the biblical text.

And people live that way, year after year, century after century, proud of their imagined superiority or perhaps fearful for their salvation, but in any event never admitting that they are simply wrong. So I wind up with a clown like Jack, and many Christian believers wind up in private hells of falsehood and confusion, because their culture prohibits open, honest, and humble engagement down here with the rest of us, on the level of reality. The world is cursed with a horde of bullshit artists, some quite solemn and sincere (within the severe limits of what they are willing to contemplate), because that is precisely what their faith respects.

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