Fundamentalist believers by definition regard their Holy Book (or Books, depending on the religion) as the litteral, historical truth. Though the reasoning for this may vary, it is typically circular, and comes down to “the Holy Book tells us the Supreme Being gave us the Holy Book, and therefore it’s true” (see e.g. here and here). What I found most astounding though is not having faith that the claims made in these books are true (supreme being not bound to laws of phsysics creates everything and prescribes the does and don’ts), but having faith that the book, in its present form, is True. Since, for it to be True, and to be the litteral, historical truth, we need a whole bunch of suppositions:

  1. There actually is a Supreme Being
  2. The Supreme Being tells the truth
  3. The Supreme Being directed a mere mortal (or more than one mortal) to write something down
  4. The mere mortal wrote it down in exactly the way the Supreme Being commanded him*
  5. When copies were created**, no copying errors were made
  6. When copies were created, the copyer did not willfully introduce alterations to the original

And the last two steps can be repeated ad infinitum, since there isn’t a single Holy Book that has been demonstrated (or even claimed, as far as I’m aware) to be an original or a direct (first generation) copy of an original (save perhaps the Book of Mormon).

So even if we accept the first two premises on faith alone (and there’s enough reasons to dismiss them), it may go awry with the subsequent ones. For example, christians will acknowledge that premises 3 and 4 may not hold, given that they deny the divine inspiration for the Quran. And certain orthodox protestant christians will acknowledge that premises 5 and 6 may not hold, given that there are differences between Protestant versions (“received text”) and Catholic versions (“Alexandrian text”) of the bible (see e.g. here).

So why believe one Holy Book over another, why one version of a specific Holy Book over another? I think that’s the most difficult and uncomfortable question any religious believer has to answer. In the next posts I’ll look at at least some of the answers I’ve heard in the past (and present a rebuke).

* I’m not aware of a woman having written down a Holy Book, ever
** Or when relaying the content to others (illiterates), which is analogous to copying

Since I’ll be writing about atheism, I thought it’d a good idea to explain why I’m an atheist. First of all, for those who didn’t grow up in the Netherlands, for most people over here religion is not that much of an issue. We have a right wing orthodox christian political party representing most of the Dutch bible belt, we have our share of extremist muslims, but otherwise religion is pretty much dying out as an organised force (note that this used to be completely different in the first half of the 20th century, with a religiously vertically divided society). That’s not to say the Netherlands is an enlighted society, since homeopathy, spirituality and other crank stuff (hello there Ms. Margolis, Mr. Ogilvie) is still rampant, but the fact that there isn’t a decent atheist movement is telling.

I grew up in a moderately religious house hold, meaning that we said our prayers over dinner, read from the bible on a daily basis (modern translations and children’s bible) and went to church once every Sunday (as an echo of the pillarisation, my mother being Gereformeerd and my father being Hervormd they went to different churches, me and my sibblings going along with my mom). I basically went along with this: I’ve never had an epiphany about the nonsensical aspects of it, nor did I suddenly resent it; I accepted it thoughtlessly as part of our culture. When I was about 13 or 14, I started objecting to going to church, mainly because I got a wooden ass sitting an hour and a half on hard wooden benches listening to boring stuff, and not long after that I refused to go, which as far as I recall went unprotested by my parents.

The next recollection I have concerning religion was when a few years later, me and two of my friends went to “catachese” (bible study) at the local church, all three of us intially to please our parents and not long after because we liked poking fun at some of the overly religious kids. So by that time (I was about 15 or 16), I was already firmly an atheist, or at least a firm disbeliever in the biblical truth. As a funny detail, quite often the presiding reverend agreed with us on topics like the non-literality of biblical passages and the unprovability of deitical existence.

Being a very arrogant juvenile, I thought that was it: since I didn’t believe in God, He didn’t exist. I didn’t really care about other people’s opinions, and went on with my life. That basically was it, until I married a moderately religious woman, which caused me to having to give arguments for my disbelieve (“there isn’t a single shred of evidence”), and later when we discussed having kids why I opposed them being baptised (“no organisation will claim my kids as property”). A few years later, I discovered Richard Dawkins, Pharyngula and shortly after its inception Freethought blogs. The blogs on these sites reminded me in an in-your-face kinda way of the damage religion inflicts upon innocent children (a pleonasm, if there is any), minority groups and society at large, and how much better of we would be without it (as well as shape or sharpen my opinions on other issues like abortion, feminism and privilige). And with that, I sign off.

Since being active on Twitter (“active” being relative here, I’m by no means chruning out the 300+ posts a day some people manage), I found it a perfect medium for broadcasting one-liners, but lacking (obviously) the full explanatory force a more elaborate medium has. So after deliberating for a while, I chose to set up a blog at WordPress, to be able to ramble a bit longer than fit in 140 characters. I chose to call it “The Atheist Passivist”, as the first content word (yes, that is “atheist”) pretty well describes what I intend to mainly blog about (though check the subtitle), and the second to clearly indicate I’m not even close to being an activist (so yes, that’s passivist, not pacifist).

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