Biblically Challenged

.
The new series of University Challenge started today. I love University Challenge, becuase it's one of the few remaining bastions of aspiration in an increasingly dimwitted and negative British TV climate - and because I can sometimes get one or two questions right and feel superior to the common man. For those who don't know it, it's a quiz for teams from different universities who compete over a few months in knockout rounds until there's only one team left. It has a uniquely dismissive and browbeating host, Jeremy Paxman, who routinely reprimands the contestants for failing to answer what he considers to be absurdly simply questions (Example: "Which distribution emits a probability density function f (x) equals 1 over square root of 2 pi times e to the power of minus x squared divided by 2?"). And, needless to say, it's bloody fucking hard.

So I was surprised to see in tonight's episode that neither team were able to identify the author of the book Proverbs in The Bible - a question which even I consider to be absurdly easy. What was even more surprising was that Paxman didn't scoff mercilessly in his customary manner when the answer "Saul" was offered. He just let it slide and moved on to the next question. It was most disappointing.

It seems like knowledge of The Bible is on the wane. Another BBC product which I condone is Desert Island Discs, an extended interview in which the interviewee is asked to choose eight records they would take with them to a desert island. They are also given a book and a luxury of choice, and copies of the Complete Works of Shakespeare and The Bible. (A fascinating insight, by the way, into the Britain of 1942 when the programme first aired: then Shakespeare and The Bible were pillars supporting the roof of the nation - now they barely make the school curriculum.)

A trend I've noticed in recent years is that a lot of people (Ricky Gervais the most recent example) quickly announce, even as the words are leaving Kirsty Young's beautiful lips, that "I don't want to take The Bible" - the implication being that, as an atheist, the speaker would rather flog himself senseless than have to even touch a copy and find himself associated even in this fleeting way with the thought of Judaeo-Christian belief.

It strikes me as odd, and quite sad. Regardless of whether or not you believe that The Bible is the word of God, or even if it is a great book of instruction, Christianity and Judaism are still hugely important cornerstones of European culture - the very bedrock, perhaps, on which the whole thing is built. Even as an item of history, anthropology and art, the thing's worth is massive. No other book has occupied the thoughts of European people for as long, nor become as entwined with our culture. To say it is extremely important is to understate to a ridiculous degree.

Not only that; it's a fascinating and interesting read, full of blood, sex, mayhem and weird visions in the first three quarters, and impassioned rhetoric about faith, love and hope in the last. Why not take it to a desert island with you, then, even if you're the most devout atheist on earth? At the very worst, it'll stave off boredom for at least a year.

But it seems that the Good Book has practically been confined to the dustheap of history - as evidenced by the fact that eight of the supposedly most well educated people in the country don't even appear to know who King Solomon was, and probably don't much care.

Of Gods, Spaghetti Monsters, and Ham Sandwiches

I heard a programme on the radio recently about a museum, just opened in Kentucky, which is devoted to a creationist view of history; according to its owners, for example, dinosaurs lived in the time of Noah and made full use of the Ark. This is all part of what might be loosely termed the 'creationist fightback'; a movement to put intelligent design on an equal footing with 'real science'.

This coincides with my recent re-reading of Daniel Dennett's book Darwin's Dangerous Idea, an ultra-Darwinist tract whose central thesis is that everything, including such ethereals as human culture or consciousness, has at its base the 'algorithm' of Natural Selection. In it, Dennett devotes considerable space and time to demolishing intelligent design. Noting that the standard theories of how the universe came to existence (that, for example, there was a 'singularity' which suddenly expanded; or that the universe continually expands and contracts), do not provide satisfactory explanations, nor disprove God as creator, he comes up with a way to dissuade us from the belief that God was behind the 'Big Bang'. Using the example of a tennis match, he imagines a dialogue between a creationist and an atheist.

"The universe came from the big bang," says the atheist, serving.

"Ah, but what created the materials for the big bang, and what set it off?" the creationist replies, returning. "That must have been God!"

"There's no proof for that," says the atheist, hitting a backhand. "Even if it was God, what created him? You might as well just say that a giant ham sandwich set off the big bang, and have done with it."

The ball is now firmly in the creationist's court, according to Dennett.

The problem, of course, and the one that Dennett neatly skates over, is that neither position can be proved - and that neither makes any real sense. Either God exists (in which case he has existed for ever) or he doesn't (in which case the universe sprang literally from nothing). Both assertions lead to absurd conclusions. The perfect return for the creationist, coming into the net for a forehand volley, would be: "Yes, and people are free to believe in a ham sandwich, just as I'm free to believe in God, but you then also have to admit that whether people believe in God, a ham sandwich, a giant flying spaghetti monster, or for that matter a quantum singularity (or whatever), the point is that they are believing something. Atheism is founded on faith just as much as theism is."

It seems to me that Christians (theists in general, in fact), don't use this fact to their advantage as much as they should. That is, the central point of all religion is faith; faith that God exists and cares about human affairs even in the face of overwhelming evidence that he doesn't. It's the key theme of the entire Christian bible, from Job to Exodus to the Pslams to Hebrews. Where then does this insistence on competing with scientists on their own terms come from, when it can be easily demonstrated that scientists base their views as much on an article of faith (that the materials making up the universe sprang from a singularity, or are part of an eternally contracting and expanding reality) as do Christians? Why try to prove or disprove things that logically can't be proved, when you could be concentrating on your supposed fortes of faith, hope and love instead (the merits of which are far more likely to win converts than the absurd chasing of an illogical, impossible dream)?

Neither theism nor atheism have anything to recommend them, particularly, in terms of logic. But Christians must surely believe that their faith does have something to recommend it as a way of life, and that is what they should be concentrating on: promoting the way of life, rather than harping on about Noah and the dinosaurs.