#2 "The Apocalypse" -- Don

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.   -- Robert Frost

I have no idea how this particular topic came to rest at the top of our list of basically random writing selections, but I’m okay with it.  I guess if we want to start the blog off with a bang, yakking about how everything is going to end off with a bang is as good a topic as any other. 

I’ll take the risk of sounding cynical or aloof by just putting it straight out there that the end of the world is not a particularly big concern for me.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy enough with my life and if I live to be a hundred and the world’s still here, fine by me.  On the other hand, however, if the world were to end tomorrow, and everyone and everything I care about were laid to utter ruin, I don’t expect I would be too upset about it because it only figures that if the world is destroyed, I’m going to go along with it.  Furthermore, although I’m in no rush to shuffle off this moral coil, if the aliens land tomorrow, I sincerely hope they eat me first.  I’d volunteer for it.  Perhaps I’d taste just nasty enough for them to fly off in search of something a little less fatty and a bit more tender on some other planet, and I could then go down in the annals of history in addition to the anals of some aliens.

Traditionally, the phrase “The Apocalypse” comes from the last book of The New Testament, which is also known as The Book of Revelations.  In fact the word “apocalypse” comes from the ancient Greek meaning “revelation” or “the lifting of the veil.”  As far as I’m concerned, The Book of Revelations pretty much exemplifies everything that is wrong with Christianity.  First off, if you’ve ever read the text for yourself (and I have), you can’t help but notice that John’s explanation for how God plans to resolve everything is expressed in such vivid and complex imagery that I contend his fantastic, lurid, and rambling metaphors are beyond the capacity of anyone living today to really say what it’s actually supposed to refer to.  We are approaching a 2000 year distance from the context in which these images were first set down, and even if we were able to get into a time machine and speak with John face to face, I sincerely doubt that anyone could step into his dreamscape and understand exactly who or what he is referring to when he’s going on and on about such characters as “The Whore of Babylon” or those four weird creatures that were hovering around the throne of God.  Now I know there are scads of people who would like to claim that they know what all of the imagery means (a Harris Poll from this past spring showed that nearly a quarter of Republicans believe that President Obama is The Antichrist, a key figure of The Book of Revelations whose name when spelled in Hebrew is supposed to add up to 666 or 616 depending on which ancient manuscript you’re going by), but even if there were one person (or even a handful) of people who actually knew what it all meant, how would the rest of us know who we could trust in offering “the right” interpretation?  If you want a one sentence summary of my take on religion, it’s this:  I have plenty of faith in God, but I have excellent reasons to doubt all those people who make the claim they have God’s authority to speak on His account.

Furthermore, I argue that even if we are unable to connect the dots and make reasonable conjectures regarding what the metaphors in The Book of Revelations refer to (if anything specifically at all, really), the underlying rhetoric of the narrative completely undermines its own authenticity. The underlying message of “The Apocalypse” is that eventually God gets fed up with the human race and throws everything He’s got left in his toolbox at our ultimate and supreme annihilation.  According to the story, while God is massacring the rest of humanity with The Four Horsemen (Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death), a small minority of the human race (made up of the diehard faithful) is spared by floating up into the sky to meet Jesus in the clouds.

The rhetorical engine, then, of the machinery that drives this Biblical narrative is fueled by fear and selfishness.  In other words, the point of the story is to motivate people to trust in the authority of the ones who are telling (or retelling) the story out of their audience’s desire to avoid the threat of Hell and to secure the reward of Heaven.  It’s not for the faithful few who get swept up in the nick of time to spend any time worrying about the eternal sufferings of those who get left behind; that’s none of their concern – after all, those poor suckers had their chance to accept what they were being told and they turned it down, right?  Unfortunately, this argument melts when the reader insists upon a reasonable God instead of one who is merely angry and fed up with it all.  Here’s how:  if God is more intelligent than I am (and there’s no doubt about that), then He would certainly understand what is perfectly clear to me – that there’s a vital difference between a reason to believe something and a motive to believe something.  If (for example) you believe the brakes are beginning to fail on your car, you then have an excellent motive to believe that your car’s brakes will last until payday (when you can afford then to get them fixed), but you do not have a good reason to believe that your car’s brakes will last until payday because there is simply no relationship between the physics of your car’s brakes and the amount of money you have in your bank account.  In short, threats and rewards are excellent motives to believe, but they are irrelevant as reasons to believe.  Thus, when authorities use threats of punishment or bribes of rewards to induce belief, they are employing an illogical and (I argue) immoral form of argument.  Since I expect God is both reasonable and moral, I don’t expect He would authorize anyone speaking on His behalf (as if an omnipotent deity would need someone to speak on His behalf anyway) to use such underhanded tactics as to scare people into believing in such a shady and nefarious form of authority.   Thus, I conclude I’d rather put my faith in the benevolence of a God who, if He had something to tell me, would do it, rather than trust in those who, to secure their power over of the people who can’t recognize the difference between a motive and a reason, would portray God as the ultimate boogeyman as a means of distracting others from noticing their lack of credibility.

Olivia says:
Ah yes, good old Revelations.  You would bring that to the table in round one.  


This is how I feel about it:
I'm not bothered by the complex imagery of John.  
I'm not disturbed by the message.   


The Bible, or really, any experience that persuades our belief, is a story of oppositions.  That said, I don't believe that the sides are separated into God's tolerance vs. us.  As you pointed out, "apocalypse" is described as the "lifting of the veil" or "revelation" which at least to me, suggests significant change.  And while I don't feel like God is getting out his super massive pink eraser in this scenario,  there could be some serious remodeling.  


Beyond the complex imagery or intent of the message, the nut you'd have me crack is why one would either submit to being 'frightened' or 'bribed' into believing something.  


Let me assure you, my beliefs are not cultivated by either 'motive'.  Frankly, (as you know) those motives do not work well in terms of long term conviction.  


My beliefs are founded on what I feel is a more substantial reasoning:  experience.  


When I am presented with information, I can immediately choose to believe it or discard it.  Experience has taught me to consider my source, the effect of the message, the likelihood of truth based on what I already know.  Or, instead of basing my belief completely on assumption, I can search it out myself. 


The culmination of my experience is what feeds and grows my faith.  


I know now that if I am unsure in something, I can ask God.  I know this from my experience.  


The same applies in regards to the words of others.  "But why wouldn't God just tell me?"  Maybe He did.  Maybe you were playing Mario.  Or maybe, just maybe, He is speaking to someone who can share a message effectively.  Or someone who is ready.  Or someone who is listening.  


But when you hear that message, it is your responsibility to discern if it is true.  Not out of fear, or reward, but because you should genuinely desire the truth.  


No one is asked to believe blindly.  As you suggested, that is foolishness.  


That's just what I believe.  
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(On your alien scenario: What if the aliens come and eat you first, and then decide that you were tentacle-lickin' good, then what?  Then, what?!)