Church of the Churchless

Truths about religion's falseness

Hey, it's a pleasant Oregon summer evening. I've got a full cup of hot organic coffee sitting next to my laptop. Seems like a good time to come up with some Indisputable Churchless Truths.

"Indisputable" is the caffeine speaking. I'm pretty sure that these truths will be disputed. In fact, I hope they are. After all, they're churchless truths.

Which means, they're open to debate, discussion, disputation. If you don't agree with any of them, or want to add a truth, comment away. Just have a good reason.

That said, you'll note that I don't supply reasons for the truthfulness of my Indisputable Churchless Truths. That's because I consider them to be self-evident.

Of course, I'm me and you're you. What is crystal clear to me may elicit an I don't see it that way in you.

So share your own viewpoint if you disagree with mine.

All I ask is that since I start out by assuming these truths are indisputable, you need to offer up some good evidence or arguments if you disagree with any of them.

Indisputable Churchless Truths

(1) There is no demonstrable, convincing evidence of the God posited by the world's theistic religions (a personal God who created the universe and continues to look after it).

(2) There is no demonstrable, convincing evidence that humans live on after death in the form of soul, an astral body, or whatever.

(3) There is no demonstrable, convincing evidence that consciousness is metaphysical.

(4) There is no demonstrable, convincing evidence that any person, living or dead, has performed a miracle (meaning, using powers or abilities clearly beyond the known laws of nature).

(5) The primal questions about existence --"Why is there something rather than nothing?" or "How is there something rather than nothing?" -- are unanswered by both science and religion (and likely always will remain so).

(6) Each individual must determine, or choose, his or her own meaning of life, because life's meaning isn't a given like gravity or electromagnetism.

(7) Spirituality is an individual affair; evidence of any metaphysical realities that may exist will be subjective, not demonstrable to others.

(8) Since the veracity of each and every religion is unprovable, equally unprovable are the moral and ethical tenets derived from any and all religious teachings.

(9) Societal norms or laws are purely human, not divine.

(10) Notwithstanding the name given to these Indisputable Churchless Truths, each of them may be disputed, including this one.

"The Story of Suzie" shows strangeness of religion

Thanks to Pharyngula I learned about The Story of Suzie, a clever video look at how religion warps how people relate to reality.

Churchless lesson: a tale of two fairs

What can fair-going teach us about churchlessness? Glad I asked. I'll answer my own question...

Thursday I went to the Marion County Fair here in Salem to relieve my wife of crushing boredom -- a four hour shift on a slow day womaning a booth sponsored by an earth-friendly organization she belongs to.

I chatted with her for a while, then explored the fair. At the other end of the exhibit hall I came across some sort of senior citizen "athletic" event, the quotation marks being justified by this bean bag toss nature of the activity.

Apparently senior centers were competing against each other, as the players were decked out in team t-shirts. Though I'm sixty myself, I found the whole scene more than a little depressing.

Chairs lined up in neat rows. Everyone sitting politely until their turn to toss came up. A youthful coordinator (staff member? volunteer?) keeping the game in order. I wanted to hear some trash talk.

Hey, granny, you got nothing! With those bony arms you'll going to throw that bag all the way to the end of your big toe. Forgot your Geritol?

The rest of the county fair had a similarly unnatural, sterile, unhealthy, overly organized feel to it. I kept thinking, "This is all-American." Along with, "America could use some improving."

A day later my wife and I drove an hour or so south of Salem to the Eugene'ish Oregon Country Fair. What a difference!

Here's a photo of one of the wonderfully chaotic parades that wend their way through the twisting, tree-lined, organic paths that fairgoers wander as they peruse the fair's cornucopia of counterculture artistry.

(You can persuse other photos of the Oregon Country Fair on the blog post I put up last night, and there's many great photos on the Fair web site.)

The contrasting atmosphere at the two fairs struck me as reflective of the difference between religiosity and churchlessness:

Uptight vs. hang loose
Rigid vs. flowing
Communal conformity vs. individual expression
Seriousness vs. smiles
Commandments vs. relaxed "whatever"

Now, I don't want to give the impression that the Oregon Country Fair is unorganized. It is anything but.

From buying tickets, to parking, to reasonable rules (no alcohol, for example), our fair-going experience was enhanced by the much-appreciated work of many volunteers and a few full-time staff.

However, I loved the looseness of the Fair -- how the organization (comparable to a loosely defined philosophy of life) contributed to the free expression of individuality, rather than limiting it.

Recently some commenters on this blog have suggested that all philosophies with even a hint of metaphysics to them, such as Taoism and Buddhism, can be equated with overtly dogmatic and authority-based religions, such as Christianity and Sant Mat.

Well, this is akin to saying that because the Marion County Fair and Oregon Country Fair share a last name, this makes them the same. Experience each of them, though, and the differences are evident and obvious.

Me, I prefer my philosophy of life to be churchless.

And my fair-going, heavier on the sex, drugs, and rock & roll (each much more present at the Oregon Country Fair than at the Marion County version) and lighter on tradition, conformity, and staidness.

Bruce Lee's Taoist life lessons

Most people are familiar with Bruce Lee as a famous martial artist. Lee's philosophical accomplishments are less well known. But they are part and parcel of his Jeet Kune Do artistry.

This morning I couldn't resist -- I jumped ahead and read the final chapter in Daniele Bolelli's "On the Warrior's Path: Philosophy, Fighting, and Martial Arts Mythology."  It's called "Epistemological Anarchism, The Philosophy of Jeet Kune Do."

Bruce Lee's philosophy is rooted in Taoism. The past few days I've been enjoying some spirited discussion about Taoism in comment conversations on posts here and here.

I've been arguing that philosophical Taoism (as contrasted with its religious variety) isn't metaphysical or other-worldly, but instead is focused on the art of earthly living. Bolelli's description of Lee's Taoist leanings fits with my conception of Taoism.

Bolelli notes that Lee was at odds with much of Chinese culture, since religious Buddhism and Taoism, plus the rigid moral structures of Confucianism, don't fit with the iconoclastic Jeet Kune Do philosophy.

As we can see, then, Lee's love for philosophical Taoism and for the most radical aspects of Buddha's teachings was hardly in line with the diluted and simplified forms of Taoism and Buddhism favored by the masses. HIs philosophical outlook was therefore more at odds with Chinese tradition than consistent with it.

...By rejecting Confucianism and choosing to embrace the antiauthoritarian viewpoint of philosophical Taoism, Lee allied himself with the fringe-dwellers, the outcasts, the mavericks, the philosophical outlaws, the misfits of Chinese culture.

Ooh! Count me in! Those are my sorts of people. Following my sort of philosophy.

Whereas the philosophical Taoism and the Buddhism embraced by Lee can be subtle and paradoxical, Confucianism offers the security of precise formulas and simple, straightforward rules. Philosophical Taoism requires great sensitivity to be grasped. Confucianism is very easy to follow. Philosophical Taoism mocks rigid laws. Confucianism reveres them.

The philosophical side of martial arts is near to my heart, because I spent nine years studying traditional Shotokan karate -- an exemplar of a Confucian style (though Shotokan is rooted in Japanese culture).

About the time my churchlessness started to flower, I got disenchanted with the rigidity of Shotokan karate. I shifted to a mixed martial arts style and enjoyed the much looser dojo atmosphere (which included a photo of Bruce Lee on a wall).

After three-plus years of that, I've been Tai Chi'ing it for about five years (yes, Tai Chi is a martial art; even more, my instructor likes to say that it is the foundation of the martial arts).

So my evolution has been in the direction of Bruce Lee's Taoist Jeet Kune Do, whose basic precepts are "using no way as way" and "having no limitation as limitation." Lee encouraged his students to question everything and find out for themselves what works, and what doesn't.

Rather than establishing a new style, he [Lee] created a major controversy by suggesting that martial artists should be constantly involved in a process of research that never crystallizes its findings into a finished product....To Lee, an endless process of trial and error was therefore preferable to establishing one's day intuition as an immutable law.

Good advice. I've stopped meditating the way I was taught in my true believing phase, because I didn't feel that it was doing for me what I wanted. Now I'm much more eclectic.

Just as Lee used "whatever works" as his guiding philosophy, I don't feel that I need to follow any set of moral, ethical, or meditative dogmas. I'm still a vegetarian, but I drink a glass of red wine most evenings. I still meditate every morning, but I vary between mantra and mantra-less awareness, and worry a lot less about how much time I spend on my cushion.

Bolelli shares some good Bruce Lee quotations:

How can there be methods and systems to arrive at something that is living? To that which is static, fixed, dead, there can be a way, a definite path, but not to that which is living. Do not reduce reality to a static thing and then invent methods to reach it.

True observation begins when one sheds set patterns, and true freedom of expression occurs when one is beyond systems.

Knowledge is fixed in time, whereas, knowing is continual. Knowledge comes from a source, from accumulation, from a conclusion, while knowing is a movement.

Jeet Kune Do favors formlessness so that it can assume all forms and since Jeet Kune Do has no style, it can fit with all styles. As a result, Jeet Kune Do utilizes all ways and is bound by none and, likewise, uses any techniques or means which serve its ends.

More excellent Taoist advice. Lee makes the same point that I've been arguing in the above-mentioned comment conversations:

Philosophical Taoism's embrace of every way, depending on the circumstances, doesn't make this philosophy a defined belief system. Rather, it is the antithesis of religious, moralistic, or ethical dogmatism.

Bolellis says that Lee gave full power back to the individual through this set of "using no way as the way" aphorisms:

1. Research your own experience.
2. Absorb what is useful.
3. Reject what is useless.
4. Add what is specifically your own.

Sure sounds good for a churchless philosophy of life.

Epistemological anarchism, in fact, does not attempt to substitute one method for another. Rather, it frees individuals to find their own methods, and invites them to change them at will if, after some time, their discovery stops producing the desired results.

(For more about Bruce Lee's philosophy, check out my "Kung Fu meditating" post.)

Mysticism good. Religion bad. So says Sam Harris.

My churchlessness was wonderfully energized by Sam Harris' "The End of Faith" when it came out in 2004 -- the same year I started this blog.

Harris has a philosophy degree from Stanford and is working on a doctorate in neuroscience, so he's got a balanced perspective on soft beliefs and hard facts.

This morning I picked up The End of Faith and reread the almost-final "Experiments in Consciousness" chapter. I'd remembered that he'd said positive things about mysticism after trashing religion, and was curious to revisit his thoughts after five years or so.

My conclusion: right on, Mr. Harris.

At the core of every religion lies an undeniable claim about the human condition: it is possible to have one's experience of the world radically transformed...The problem with religion is that it blends this truth so thoroughly with the venom of unreason.

The challenge for us is to begin talking about this possibility in rational terms....It is difficult to find a word for that human enterprise which aims at happiness directly -- at happiness of a sort that can survive the frustration of all conventional desires.

The term "spirituality" seems unavoidable here -- and I have used it several times in this book already -- but it has many connotations that are, frankly, embarrassing. "Mysticism" has more gravitas, perhaps, but it has unfortunate associations of its own.

Neither word captures the reasonableness and profundity of the possibility that we must now consider: that there is a form of well-being that supersedes all others, indeed, that transcends the vagaries of experience itself.

Harris then launches into praise of "mysticism" that is as strong as his condemnation of religion. And he makes great good sense.

Over on this post we've been having an interesting comment conversation about whether Taoism and Buddhism (Dzogchen variety, particularly) can be considered metaphysical belief systems.

I've been arguing, "no." I'm pretty sure Sam Harris agrees. His description of his bookcase sounds a lot like mine, when he says:

I have selected a passage at random from a shelf of Buddhist literature. The following text was found with closed eyes on the first attempt from among scores of books. I invite the reader to find anything even remotely like this in the Bible or the Koran.

Harris has a lot of evident fondness for Buddhism. Me too, along with Taoism -- writings about which occupy center stage on my own bookcase.

Both philosophies are firmly rooted in the reality of everyday human experience, not some airy-fairy other-worldly metaphysics. The passage Harris found in his Buddhist book talks about manifest awareness and the absence of an observer.

It is psychologically profound. Also, entirely consistent with modern neuroscience.

Similarly, the ancient Taoists grasped the importance of "being in the flow" way before sports announcers started saying excitedly, "Man, Kobe Bryant is out of his mind and in the zone! Forty points at halftime!"

My well-worn copy of Gia-Fu Feng and Jane English's translation of the Tao Te Ching says on the back cover:

The philosophy of Lao Tsu is simple: Accept what is in front of you without wanting the situation to be other than it is. Study the natural order of things and work with it rather than against it, for to try to change what is only sets up resistance.

...If we watch carefully, we will see that work proceeds more quickly and easily if we stop "trying," if we stop putting in so much extra effort, if we stop looking for results. In the clarity of a still and open mind, truth will be reflected.

Likewise, Harris writes:

This is an empirical claim, not a matter of philosophical speculation. Break the spell of thought and the duality of subject and object will vanish -- as will the fundamental difference between conventional states of happiness and suffering. This is a fact about the mind that few Western scholars have ever made it their business to understand.

It is on this front that the practice of meditation reveals itself to be both intellectually serious and indispensable. There is something to realize about the nature of consciousness, and its realization does not entail thinking new thoughts.

A few hours ago I started on my almost-daily dog walk, an event that Serena doesn't let me forget. We have two usual routes: a walk through the woods and around a lake that is a bit over a mile, and a more aerobically challenging two mile walk on a paved road loop.

I felt like going on the lake walk. It was evident that Serena was more in the mood for the road (more interesting smells, I suspect). I flowed with Serena. At first. Because when we came to a path that intersected the road, I headed down it.

Serena happily bounded ahead, off her leash. Heading toward the lake, albeit in a more indirect fashion that I at first intended, I realized that this route would have us avoid a hornet nest that my wife had noticed at dog nose height, near the trail on our property, and had warned me about.

It was the familiar "good news, bad news, who knows?" Taoist story.

I head off in an undesired direction, which ends up leading me to where I wanted to go -- perhaps avoiding a stinging problem that the dog and I could have encountered if I'd stuck with my initial conscious intention.

My unspectacular tale is the sort of everyday experience that Harris finds so interesting. And mysterious.

How does our consciousness guide us through life? How does unchanging awareness relate to the everchanging sensations, thoughts, emotions, desires, and such that continually course through our mind?

If these kinds of questions are termed "mystical," its because the answers are a mystery, not that investigating the nature of human consciousness leads us into some metaphysical realm.

But as Harris noted above, thinking about thoughts won't help in studying how awareness functions thoughtlessly. He adds:

We all know what it is like to read whole paragraphs, and even pages of a book without assimilating a word. Few of us realize that we spend most of our lives in such a state: perceiving the present -- present sights, sounds, tastes, and sensations -- only dimly, through a veil of thought.

We spend our lives telling ourselves the story of past and future, while the reality of the present goes largely unexplored. Now we live in ignorance of the freedom and simplicity of consciousness, prior to the arising of thought.

Religiosity can't exist without thoughts, concepts, dogmas, beliefs, imaginings.

Mysticism (or "spirituality," if you prefer that term) can. Non-religious Buddhists and Taoists are totally happy just being. No need to give a name to this, though "suchness" is used in Buddhism and the "way" in Taoism.

Science and religion have something in common: they both are focused on what exists within existence, on what consciousness is conscious of, on what knowing is knowledgeable about.

Mysticism is centered on bridging, or even dissolving, these dualities. Harris says:

Indeed, many suggest that it is our search for happiness -- our craving for knowledge and new experience, our desire for recognition, our efforts to find the right romantic partner, even our yearning for spiritual experience itself -- that causes us to overlook a form of well-being that is intrinsic to consciousness at every present moment.

...The experience of countless contemplatives suggests that consciousness -- being merely the condition in which thought, emotion, and even the sense of self arises -- is never actually changed by what it knows. That which is aware of joy does not become joyful; that which is aware of sadness does not become sad.

...The roiling mystery of the world can be analyzed with concepts (this is science), or it can be experienced free of concepts (this is mysticism). Religion is nothing more than bad concepts held in place of good ones for all time.

Tai Chi doesn't have much to do with "Qi"

George asked some good questions in a comment on this recent post. I responded briefly to the Tai Chi section of his query in a comment of my own, but wanted to reply more fully to these thoughts:

Why do even the most churchless on here appear to follow a spiritual practice of some kind? If truly churchless, why not be wholly secular and skeptical, devoid of any and all spiritual belief.

If on the other hand such spirituality is indeed practiced and tolerated, why not the same extended to other mystic traditions or religions? Christianity and RS [Radha Soami] have been slammed on here.

Brian appears to be an adherent of Tai Chi and sympathetic to Taoism. Fundamental to both is ‘chi’ or ‘qi’, which suggests an energy flow principle to all living things. There is also Yin Yang that presupposes an inherent dualistic nature to the universe. And of course there are masters who teach this discipline to disciples.

There is no evidence for ‘qi’ or a stream of energy flowing within us. Instead, we have blood that flows within our veins and arteries. Human anatomy does not consist of energy or life-energy pathways.

First, I think there may be some misunderstanding of Chinese terminology going on here. The "Chi" in Tai Chi doesn't have anything to do with "Qi."

Tai Chi Chuan, which is what I have been learning for about five years, often is translated as "Grand Fist Ultimate" (chuan meaning "fist," the martial aspect of Tai Chi). I'm no expert on Chinese, for sure, but I'm pretty sure Qi and Ch'i are synonymous, but certainly not Qi and Chi (without an apostrophe).

So when George said that Qi, or Ch'i, is fundamental to Tai Chi, this really isn't true. You can practice Tai Chi assiduously, and even become expert in it, without believing in the subtle energy known as Qi.

Some long-standing practitioners in my Tai Chi class are big on Qi and Qigong. Others aren't. As I mentioned to George in a comment, I've settled on viewing Qi as whatever energy I'm feeling in my body at any given moment.

This isn't a "spiritual" belief, in any way similar to the dogmas of Christianity or Radha Soami/Sant Mat. It is simple awareness of internal bodily sensations that usually people pass over or ignore, being focused on external objects and movements.

Further, a lot of research has been done on the health benefits of Tai Chi. My wife subscribes to the Harvard Women's Health Watch newsletter. The May 2009 issue had an article that described some of the medical evidence. (This is a 1 MB PDF file.)
Download Health benefits of Tai Chi

Tai chi is often described as "meditation in motion," but it might well be called "medication in motion." There is growing evidence that this mind-body practice, which originated in China as a martial art, has value in treating or preventing many health problems.

Scientific research demonstrates the benefits of Tai Chi, which I've experienced personally. However, it's true, as George said, that I'm also attracted to the philosophical side of Tai Chi, Taoism.

Churchlessness is a continuum, not a sharp divide between believing and not believing. Even so, George asked why not be "devoid of any and all spiritual belief?" Well, I'd say that I am.

I find nothing "spiritual" in Taoism. This is a wonderfully natural philosophy. Mind and body are integrated, not split into concepts of spirit and matter -- which most religions consider to be at odds with each other.

What I don't want to do is shut myself off to new knowledge, understandings, truths, insights into reality. But I also don't want to embrace weird beliefs that have no connection with what I know now.

Like everyone else, I'm a bodily being. Probably that's all I am, no soul or spirit included.

However, there are a lot of mysteries left to unravel about the human condition. Now I find that physical pursuits -- martial arts, dancing, horse riding, scootering/motorcycling -- are a valuable means of learning who I am and how I function best (plus being plain fun).

I used to be much more other-worldly, philosophically. Thus Tai Chi and Taoism are where I've ended up at the moment in my descent from abstract conceptual metaphysics to directly experienced here-and-now awareness.

In physicality, where Tai Chi and Taoism are rooted, there are no places to hide behind metaphysical mumbo-jumbo.

You either can balance on one leg in a Tai Chi form and perform a sole (not soul) kick, or you can't.

You either can gracefully move with your partner in a Tango overhead turn, or you can't.

You either can control your horse as it canters around barrels in an arena, or you can't.

You either can smoothly guide your scooter/motorcycle through a series of tight curves in the road, or you can't.

Each of these activities -- which I've done recently -- requires my mind and body to act together harmoniously. Tension, fear, anxiety, unsureness, or lack of confidence produce shaky results.

Learning about life in this fashion seems much more real to me than the "spiritual" practices I used to engage in. So, George, I hope this helps answer your questions. In the latter part of your comment, you addressed some queries to tAo about Dzogchen. He has responded in another comment, echoing some points I've just made.

Basically, to understand how someone looks upon a practice like Tai Chi or Dzogchen, it's necessary to dig into their individual approach to it. I can understand how you could look upon Tai Chi as a spiritual belief system, but in my experience it isn't anything like that.

Get bodily wild this Fourth of July

It's Independence Day here in the United States. July 4 is a great time to remind yourself, no matter where you are in the world, "I'm free -- independent of religious fantasies."

This afternoon I'm going to ride my newly-beloved Suzuki scooter through some beautiful countryside to nearby Independence, where a Fourth of July celebration is happening (seems appropriate to visit Independence, Oregon on Independence Day).

A very bodily activity. As if any of us can do anything else, so long as we're alive. What isn't bodily? Meditation sure is. Ditto for every other form of supposed "spiritual" practice.

Yesterday I started reading, "On the Warrior's Path: Philosophy, Fighting, and Martial Arts Mythology" by Danielle Bolelli. Already I can tell that I'm going to enjoy this book. A lot.

It's right up my alley -- a blend of religious skepticism, physical attunement, and martial arts realism. Here's some excerpts from the first few pages that I liked:

Both factions make a huge mistake. They look at spirituality as something strange, esoteric, removed from daily life. They look at it as if it were some far away dimension wrapped in clouds of mystery and incense, something with no connection to the most mundane aspects of life.

Forgetting that true spirituality is not ascetic nor against life, both its friends and foes call "spiritual" what is remote and beyond the material world. But spirituality is just the opposite. It is the quintessence of life. It is a way of waking up, of walking, of smiling, of dancing.

Spiritual are those who are not satisfied with surviving, but want to turn daily experiences into sources of ecstasy.

...Imagine Jesus Christ preaching after a session of Tai Chi Chuan. Probably, the entire Western culture would be drastically different. No rivalry between spirit and body. No tug-of-war between the soul yearning for Heaven and the body restraining it on Earth.

...The only thing that matters is the stream of energy flowing within us. The strength of an adult mammal, not different from that of a buffalo, a wolf, or a jaguar. A wild being aware of the life-force pulsating in every pore of the skin.

This is not just a physical experience. It is spiritual. It transforms the body as well as the character.

...Such an individual is a threat to every form of established authority. A wolf that can't be tamed. He is not under anyone's orders and doesn't accept dogmas because he already has within himself everything he needs to face life.

When streams of power flow in the veins of your body, dependency on external factors is reduced to a minimum. Confidence follows your every mood, and thus it is a pleasure to be surrounded by animals, mountains, and trees, since you don't have the feeling of being in a hostile environment.

It is a splendid, thrilling experience. Pure euphoria.

Happy Independence Day. Be wild.

Be wolf'ish. Howl. However you like.

You are your own commandments.

Confirmed: God is gay

Makes sense to me:

In nature, homosexuality, bisexuality, and omni-sexuality are ubiquitous.
God created nature, and is reflected in nature.

Thus, as Mark Morford demonstrates, God is gay. Somewhat, at least.

And gayness is entirely natural -- as is every other form of sexuality. Check off another instance where religions are wrong.

Right on, Richard Feynman

Thanks to Pharyngula, I was able to start my day off with an inspiring RIchard Feynman paean to reality, science, doubt, uncertainty, and godlessness.

Feynman was an amazing physicist. And this short video shows that he also was an amazing person.

Science is divine if nature is God's creation

OK, that's a big "if" in this blog post title. But let's assume for a non-churchless moment that God is real, and God created the physical universe.

So here we are, in God's marvelous creation. Living, breathing, pondering what existence is all about.

Part of that pondering is something called science.

It studies the natural world -- including the portion we call "humanity." Science is the best means known to man (and woman) for sorting out what's true about the universe, and what isn't.

Why, then, are so many believers in a personal God who created the universe so mistrustful of a discipline, science, whose aim is to reveal the nature of nature, God's creation?

I don't get it. Neither did Isaac Newton and many other scientists whose devout religious beliefs spurred them to study what some Christians have called God's second book, nature.

The second of God’s two revelations is the book of nature, termed “general revelation.” This is the implied record about our Creator that is discovered in the natural world around us. It is considered general in that it is a disclosure of reality that has been generally available to all people throughout the ages.

Now, I certainly don't agree that God's actions are reflected in the book of nature. However I have no problem with someone watching a beautiful sunset, or the full moon rise, and spontaneously uttering "Oh, my God!"

After all, if this is God's creation, then whatever makes us more aware and knowledgeable of what exists within existence must be revered as revealing divinity.

And that "whatever" happens to be science.

To better understand why this is so, have a listen to an interesting discussion between American atheist biologist (and avid blogger) PZ Myers and British theist evolutionist Denis Alexander. (Here's the mp3 link.)

What struck me about this interview, which was on a Christian radio station in Britain, was how refreshingly different Alexander was from the fundamentalist sorts of Christians who dominate the air waves in the United States.

I mean, a theist evolutionist -- that's terrific.

Alexander correctly saw no conflict between his religious beliefs and science. Neither did Myers, though as an atheist he also correctly kept emphasizing that religion can have zero, repeat zero, influence on scientific research.

Where I most agreed with Myers, and thought that Alexander was off the mark, was in the part of the discussion concerning the limits of science.

Scientists don't claim that art, music, morality, ethics, emotions, politics, culture, and such can be reduced to quantitative explanations. In these areas religion can play a role in human affairs (although I wish it wouldn't).

But Alexander kept trying to portray this as a weakness of science, whereas that is false. Myers kept bringing the discussion back to what the scientific method sets out to do: produce valid, reproducible, objective knowledge about the material universe.

To a religious believer in a personal creator God, this is one half of "God's book" (the other half being whatever holy text he or she believes in). Here science is unarguably King over religion, as Myers kept arguing -- and Alexander seemed to agree.

Even when I was a true believer, I was a devoted reader of science books and magazines. I didn't see any conflict between my metaphysical beliefs and what science knows about the material world.

Big bang. Evolution. DNA. Particle physics. Quantum mechanics. Relativity theory.

It shouldn't matter whether someone considers these phenomena and laws of nature to have come from God, or purely natural processes.

They're real, to the best of human knowledge. That's what counts. And reality is divine, whether you take this word in a secular or religious sense.