There are obvious benefits to a rejuvenated religious landscape. Maybe people will be happier, less lonely, and better able to form healthy families and communities. That, in turn, might diminish the attraction of less-healthy fixations, from violence to porn to unhinged social causes and political ideologies. Perhaps we could even expect more moral rectitude from our politicians and cultural influencers! Dare to dream.
It seems strange to me how often arguments for religious belief, particularly Christianity, rely on this sort of instrumental reasoning. Go to church! It’ll lower your blood pressure, give you an expanded social network, and who knows, maybe you’ll even meet that special someone! Okay, but aren’t you supposed to believe in this stuff because it’s true? Wasn’t that the original point? Does anyone want to try to make that argument anymore? Don’t get me wrong, I have no desire to encourage true-believing fanaticism or aggressive proselytizing, but as a happily-unchurched person and the target for this type of pitch, I have to say, you sound tentative and unsure about what you’re trying to sell me. I don’t sense any strength in an argument that starts off on the back foot.
Having presented his arguments for the basic rationality of religious belief, Douthat goes on offense more aggressively with a chapter on religious experience. The world, he contends, is not at all “disenchanted.” Again he spreads his net wide, discussing a range of supernatural or mystical phenomena: visions, charismatic raptures, naturally inexplicable events (miracles?), and near-death experiences. Offhand, this might seem like one of the easiest chapters for the skeptic to dismiss. Almost all of these occurrences are anecdotal, subjective, and prime fodder for hoaxes or embellishments. Douthat acknowledges this, but still raises some thought-provoking points. The one that most stuck with me concerned near-death experiences, which have been reported by people across many different countries and cultures. There are some fascinating similarities in the various accounts, and while one could hypothesize that this is just a bracing byproduct of almost dying, there is something rather strange about that. Why would people so frequently have intense, lucid experiences at precisely the time when their brains are barely functioning (to the point where some were ruled medically dead or believed to be dead)? Is it not reasonable to see this as at least some evidence that there might be something waiting for us on the other side?
“Something” waiting for us? What if we just wander aimlessly around Hades as restless shades? Would anyone be excited about that? This reminds me of Schopenhauer’s quip that if people had to choose between believing in God or believing in personal immortality, they’d take the latter in a heartbeat. More specifically, it illustrates my long-standing opinion that with religion, as with most complex subjects, people are using motivated reasoning to argue for several unexamined assumptions at once without even being aware of it. Seriously, what if there is a God or gods, but no souls or afterlives? What if there is an afterlife, but it’s just a variation on our current confusing existence, and God never makes an appearance to clarify anything? What if, as people like me suspect, there is a form of immortality, but without personal memory, like Aldo Leopold’s atom X? Logically, and evidentially, these options are no less viable. Ah, but none of this is about logic or evidence to begin with.
I’m sure there will be plenty of examples of people who were raised without religion who take it up as adults. That’s just human nature, to keep wandering back and forth in search of the grass than which there is none greener. But they’ll eventually encounter the same implausibility that has sent many people in the opposite direction. It may be good, it may be beautiful, but is it really true? And what happens when the impulse for truth has also proved to be a life-preserving power?