Why is there a need for apologetics?

It’s essential to recognize that the very necessity for apologists to strategize indicates a weakness in their position. God seems to have left Christians in the dark for centuries, leading them to concoct elaborate arguments to justify His apparent absence, the glaring hypocrisies throughout Church history, the numerous failed prophecies, and the secularization of developed areas of Christendom.

Of course, Christians might rationalize this predicament, since fiction can be manipulated to justify any situation. That’s the remarkable flexibility of human imagination. However, their explanations for why they find themselves defending against informed atheists will likely be as convoluted and implausible as their theological doctrines.

Jesus’s teachings were straightforward. He was an idealist who didn’t lead the organized religion that would later tarnish itself through political entanglements. He recognized the inequities in society and the unfair distribution of power and happiness. Yet, he believed in a transcendent force that would ultimately rectify these injustices, urging followers to trust in this source even at the cost of their earthly existence, similar to his own sacrifice for a greater afterlife.

From what can be discerned from the New Testament and historical contexts, that is the essence of Jesus’s message. In contrast, the Catholic Catechism is rife with abstractions and compromises, a typical outcome of a politicized theology that has developed over two millennia.

Nevertheless, the mere existence of these apologetic pamphlets in the modern era does not enhance Christianity's reputation.

Condensing Respect and Finding Common Ground

Vogt emphasizes that Christians should recognize the intelligence of atheists. He suggests that even if atheists lack intelligence, “treat them as if they do. Avoid condescension or speaking down to them as if they were children. Show them respect and acknowledge their intellect.”

While this advice appears reasonable, it’s absurd to think a Christian would address an adult atheist in a condescending manner.

Who is the one with invisible friends? Who accepts ancient myths as literal truth? Who believes a non-corporeal, masculine entity created black holes and subatomic particles? Who thinks that this deity required a blood sacrifice to alleviate his anger and save humanity from eternal punishment for behaving as he intended?

The mere possibility of condescension is indicative, as Catholicism often embodies smugness.

Vogt's second piece of advice is to find common ground. For instance, he suggests starting with shared appreciation for science or critical thinking.

Yet, why focus on individual commonalities when the existential condition for all informed people today is evident? While one could frame this condition in biased terms, the most neutral description will favor skeptics and naturalists over dogmatic theists. Religion appeared more rational in earlier centuries than it does now.

The Most Compelling Theistic Argument?

Things take an intriguing turn with Vogt's third suggestion: “ask good questions.” The inquiries he proposes aim to have atheists perform the legwork for Christians.

The first question he raises is, “Which argument for God do you believe is the strongest, and why does it fail?” Vogt claims that “few atheists have engaged deeply with literature defending God or studied the issue extensively. As a result, they often cite relatively weak arguments, ones that could likely be easily dismissed.”

This question is problematic, as it presumes the possibility that religion might be a profound fraud and that all theistic arguments are fundamentally weak. To refer to the “strongest” argument for God assumes that at least one argument isn’t as flawed as the others, or that one holds some merit. Vogt's earlier mention of “charitable” discussions sets the stage for this sophistry, as such discussions may overlook significant flaws for the sake of politeness.

If Vogt’s question is essentially asking atheists to conjure a plausible argument for God’s existence on behalf of Christians, that’s quite a tall order. Imagine a Hindu or Muslim asking a Christian to present the strongest case for their faith. Wouldn’t the Christian perceive this as an unreasonable demand, assuming they believe those religions to be fundamentally flawed?

While we should engage charitably in discussions, there is a distinction between assuming something for the sake of argument and presupposing a neutral stance where truth lies somewhere between two extremes.

There is no middle ground between theism and atheism. One side is correct, and the other is not. If atheism is accurate, why should we expect any argument for theism to be considered credible? All theistic arguments would need to be flawed at best. Each may be fallacious and misleading in unique ways, but none would be robust unless “strong” is defined as the most dangerous or egregious.

If I were to identify the best theistic argument, it would be the postmodern perspective found in The Life of Pi, which posits that all truth is relative and subjective, compelling us to choose the more uplifting narrative, which theism provides compared to atheistic naturalism. This argument effectively challenges skeptics to defend modernity, despite the inevitable issues arising in secular societies.

The Basis of Theistic Conversion

Vogt's second question follows a similar line of reasoning: “What would persuade you to believe in God?” Here again, the Christian asks the atheist to do their work, masking a dubious imposition under the guise of charity.

The atheist’s response should be that if something heavy were to hit their head, perhaps then, under diminished cognitive capacity, anything might convince them to embrace theism or Christianity.

Typically, individuals become Christians in two ways: they are either born into it or convert following a traumatic experience. If an atheist was raised in Christianity and later de-converted, they might revert to those practices due to the residual effects of early indoctrination. (Similar to how learning a language as a child makes it easier to return to it later.)

Otherwise, Christianity is generally off the table for skeptics or naturalists who lack that early exposure. In such cases, nothing would likely persuade these non-Christians to change their beliefs. They are unreachable because the religion failed to engage them when they were impressionable.

As previously mentioned, exceptions exist for those who undergo severe life challenges, turning to theism out of desperation. Such traumatic experiences might radically alter one's core beliefs, akin to a psychedelic experience. Therefore, the honest answer to Vogt’s question is that trauma could lead an atheist to adopt a religion.

However, without either reverting to a formative environment as a theist or experiencing catastrophic life events that compel a mental grasping for sanity, we should expect that nothing could persuade a skeptical naturalist of God’s existence. As Vogt notes, there will always be a naturalistic explanation for any evidence that might suggest theism. If someone believes they are communicating with God, it may simply be a hallucination or a trick caused by extraterrestrial beings, among other explanations.

Thus, all the debates and apologetics are inherently fruitless for Christians attempting to disseminate their beliefs unless one of those two preconditions is met. We rarely change our minds about deeply held beliefs. While we may acknowledge minor mistakes, altering fundamental principles, philosophies, or worldviews equates to becoming an entirely different person.

This transformation is what Christianity symbolizes: a rebirth or new life. The Christian is expected to shed their old self and be reborn in a new body. They anticipate this will occur after death, but they are also encouraged to enact this scenario in their lives, pretending that their faith unites them with Christ or the Holy Spirit.

However, if that’s the case, we must again question the purpose of apologetics. If a rebirth is necessary, why expect arguments to effectuate that change? Wouldn’t it be God’s prerogative to confront atheists directly?

Christians might reference Matthew 7:7, which states, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” The implication is that God expects humans to meet him halfway, having already made a significant sacrifice by dying on the cross.

Yet, this raises a fundamental question, as whether God entered the world in first-century Palestine is precisely what is debated between Christians and atheists. From the atheist perspective, God has provided no evidence of His existence, thus leaving no bargain on the table.

Conversely, if atheists were to act as if God were real, as Pascal suggested, they might find themselves compelled to adopt theistic beliefs to save face or to avoid feeling foolish.

Nevertheless, this would be a psychological or sociological issue, again more suited for sophists rather than genuine theists engaging in good faith. Atheists might exhibit theistic behaviors under specific circumstances, but that wouldn't necessarily stem from sound reasoning to believe in God or the truth of Christianity.

The Flaws of Pragmatic Theism

Regarding the arguments themselves, Vogt claims we shouldn’t expect scientific proof of God’s existence since God is considered a supernatural entity. Fortunately, he argues that

scientific evidence isn’t the only type of evidence. Many truths exist that we cannot substantiate through physical means. For instance, we lack physical evidence that life holds meaning or that murder is immoral. We understand these truths to be valid, but not because of tangible proof. We accept these beliefs based on a different kind of evidence.

He continues to assert that the same applies to God’s existence.

Thus, for Vogt, belief in theism parallels the conviction that life is meaningful or that murder is wrong. These matters rely on “faith,” presumably.

But if that’s the case, why engage in debate? Should we argue with a psychopath who believes murder is acceptable? If one person is an optimist and another is a cynical pessimist, what’s the purpose of their argument over the nature of life? If the existence of God is more a matter of feeling than reasoning, what role does Christian apologetics play?

Is there an objective truth regarding the morality of murder? As David Hume noted, we wouldn’t perceive the act's wrongness if we witnessed a murder. We might observe that most individuals are horrified by murder, providing empirical grounds for our disapproval. However, the claim of the act's immorality is a social construct, a myth or collective fiction that regulates societal behavior. Discussing immorality essentially means that society will not tolerate certain actions and that we choose to value our lives because of our evolutionary history and the obligations of our existence.

Consequently, Vogt is perilously close to admitting that his case for theism is merely pragmatic. At best, theism might benefit society, rendering its truth status irrelevant. Ultimately, the essence of Catholicism seems to embrace a condescending attitude stemming from a tradition of misguided simplifications that the revolutions of reason and liberalism have ultimately dismantled.

Regardless, Vogt suggests that Christians should present what he calls a “strong argument.” Curiously, before he reveals it, he states, “If terms like arguments or evidence disconcert you, consider these arguments as clues leading to a common conclusion, akin to road signs guiding you to a destination. A sign doesn’t prove a destination exists, but it indicates the way. These arguments are signposts to God.”

Why would discussions of arguments or evidence unsettle a Christian? Is it because they believe that worldly wisdom is folly to God and that spiritual matters should be discerned spiritually, as Paul suggested? If so, what’s the purpose of apologetics? The answer seems to be that it is fundamentally sophistry, with arguments and evidence presented in bad faith, reminiscent of Paul’s convoluted tactics.

As Paul articulated in 1 Corinthians 9:19–23,

I have made myself a servant to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews, I became like a Jew, to win the Jews... To those without the law, I became like one not having the law... so as to win those without the law. To the weak, I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all means I might save some. I do this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings.

Save people “by all possible means”! Hence, the barrage of Christian sales tactics that have dismayed many secular humanists, skeptics, and naturalists.

The Flaws in the Kalam Argument

In any case, the “strong” argument he refers to is the dismal Kalam cosmological argument. This argument can be summarized as follows, in Vogt’s words:

Premise 1: Everything that begins to exist has a cause.

Premise 2: The universe began to exist.

Conclusion: The universe has a cause.

As he elaborates on this straightforward argument, Vogt seems pleased that it doesn’t claim that everything has a cause, which would imply that God must also have a cause. Instead, he highlights that the argument only posits that everything that begins to exist has a cause.

Unfortunately, this qualification is rendered irrelevant by the advent of Einsteinian physics, which reveals that time is not a universal, transcendent dimension for gauging natural occurrences. Instead, time is intertwined with space and evolved. Thus, the earliest subatomic event didn’t occur within time. According to scientific cosmology, the universe did not begin to exist. Time itself was birthed with the Big Bang.

What sort of explanation could account for the universe without attributing a prior cause? That is a pertinent question. The likely response from theoretical physicists is that instead of invoking God, scientific cosmologists refer to mathematics. The initial subatomic fluctuation that broke some symmetry in the gravitational singularity was due to an abstract structure related to complex mathematical principles that shape physicists' theories.

Is this “naturalistic” jargon superior to simply embracing theism? Although the theoretical physicist’s abstract speculation may seem counterintuitive and potentially dubious, it does hold at least one advantage over theism: it isn’t naively anthropocentric. The mathematician’s formal constructs need not resemble us, making the scientific theory less childishly simplistic.

Nonetheless, the Kalam argument faces additional challenges. The second premise references “the universe” as if it were a tangible entity. However, the early universe was vastly different from the current state of galaxies; neither phase is a concrete thing within a collection of things. The universe does not exist within itself. Instead, “the universe” is a crude way of referring to all that exists. And everything is not synonymous with just something.

Is a gravitational singularity a “thing”? What about the fluctuation of a virtual particle? Does our intuitive understanding of causality within space and time apply to these primordial states? Why should it, given that science has consistently proven counterintuitive in many respects?

Lastly, there’s the glaring issue with the conclusion: it does not mention “God.” Vogt believes this is acceptable because

the cause of the universe must be something beyond the universe, something beyond all matter, energy, space, and time. In other words, it must be transcendent (beyond the universe), immaterial (beyond matter and space), eternal (beyond time), and if it has produced something as complex as the universe, it must be incredibly powerful and intelligent. A transcendent, immaterial, eternal, supremely powerful, and intelligent cause of the universe — what does that suggest to you?

Again, the formal structures proposed by theoretical physicists account for transcendence, immateriality, and timelessness, so none of these attributes necessitate a deity.

As you may have noted, Vogt falters when he asserts that if the first cause “has created something so massively complex as the universe, it must be incredibly powerful and intelligent.” He appears to overlook the Big Bang theory, which posits that the early universe wasn’t “massively complex” compared to its current state. Instead, the universe evolved from a simpler state into increasingly complex forms. It took billions of years for today’s complexities to arise through natural processes like star formation.

Thus, Vogt’s reliance on the design argument falls flat. If intelligence is required to account for perceived order in complexity, then no such intelligence is necessary to explain a simple state devoid of complex order. (No intelligence is needed to account for all existing complexities either, as we now understand that most arose naturally.)

Moreover, hastily concluding that the first cause must be theistic does not clarify matters; it merely turns theism into a false explanation. While mathematical forms can be transcendent, immaterial, and timeless, there is no reason to assume a person could possess those attributes. Yes, consciousness is enigmatic, and we might hope that it could persist beyond the body’s demise. But that intuition is naive and wishful compared to established scientific understanding. Consciousness is linked to the brain, which is neither transcendent, immaterial, nor timeless.

Thus, personifying the first cause may provide comfort by placing personhood at the heart of existence, even amid the disenchantment of nature brought on by scientific exploration. Yet, if Vogt’s flimsy sophistry is required to justify this belief, we should question the validity of the impulse that this apologetics caters to.

The Kalam argument, therefore, lacks strength. No theistic argument is robust — at least not in the twenty-first century. The universe's origin remains an awe-inspiring mystery, and the cosmic scales in space and time are indeed astonishing. This represents further common ground between theists and atheists, likely leading, as I argue elsewhere, to the intersection of pantheism.

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