In the News: Creation Museum set to open

Sad piece from Yahoo News about the upcoming opening of Ken Ham's "Creation Museum" near Cincinnatti. I'm not sure what is sadder: religious people too pious to trust the intellect God gave them, or religious wannabes who think that by rejecting Darwin they are getting in good with God. What part of "giving God the Glory" requires you to lie about His work?

Pathetic. And Don Ham's books are stupid also. Ha!
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PETERSBURG, United States (AFP) - Dinosaurs frolic with Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden and an animatronic Noah directs work on his Ark in a multimillion dollar creationism museum set to open next week in Kentucky.

Designed by the creator of the King Kong and Jaws exhibits at the Universal Studios theme park, the stunning 60,000 square foot (5,400 square-metre) facility is built for a specific purpose: refuting evolution and expanding the flock of believers in a literal interpretation of the Bible.

"You'll get people into a place like this that you can't get into a church with a stick of dynamite," said founder Ken Ham from his office overlooking the museum's manicured grounds.

"Some will still sneer, some will say we'd like to hear you again and some will actually believe."

The potential audience is huge in a country divided over the origins of the universe and battling in the courts to bring creationism into classrooms.

At a recent debate among Republican presidential hopefuls, three candidates raised their hands when asked who did not believe in evolution.

Polls consistently show that nearly half of Americans believe God created humans in their present form less than 10,000 years ago. Only about 13 percent believe God played no part in the origin of human life.

.....

While the content is debatable, there is no question as to the high production value and professionalism of the 27-million dollar (20-million euro) facility.

In a scene reminiscent of Jurassic Park, no expense was spared to create the "wow factor" of the main entrance hall.

An animatronic girl giggles and feeds a squirrel next to stream filled with live fish as two baby T-rexes play a few feet away.

To the left is a 500,000 dollar planetarium -- whose dome will show films proving that "the heavens declare God's Glory" -- and a bookstore and gift shop designed to look like a medieval castle, complete with a dragon.

To the right, is a special effects theater with shaking seats, thunder and mists of water for the flood scenes.

The "wows" continue as visitors pass through the Grand Canyon into the Garden of Eden, Noah's Ark, the Tower of Babel and scenes from the life of Christ.

Located just outside of Cincinnati near the intersection of the states of Indiana, Kentucky and Ohio, nearly two thirds of the population of the United States lives within a 650-mile (1,050-kilometer) drive of the Creation Museum.

It is expected to draw at least 250,000 people a year when it opens on May 28.

By comparison, the American Museum of Natural History, which recently organized a touring Darwin exhibit, draws millions of visitors every year -- including more than 400,000 school children -- to its 1.6 million square foot facility in New York.

Opinion:What does a girl have to do to get excommunicated?

I am no fan of abortion, and take an only slightly-less-strict view on it than the Church: when a woman's health is in danger, I feel that allowing the mother to die is just as heinous as aborting the fetus, thereby (regretably) justifying abortion.

Today's Salon magazine features an interesting piece by Frances Kissling, head of "Catholics for a Free Choice," in which she discusses why, for all their bluster and bloviation, bishops don't and can't excommunicate those who advocate for abortion rights.
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What does a girl have to do to get excommunicated?Catholic officials keep threatening to excommunicate pro-choice politicians and activists like me. I think they're bluffing, and canon law is on my side.

By Frances Kissling

May. 21, 2007 Every so often some Roman Catholic hierarch gets a bee in his beanie and makes noises about excommunicating some pro-choice policy maker. Ultra-orthodox Catholics are ecstatic, and even mainstream newspapers turn into tabloids rushing to report the imminence of something that never happens. I pay attention to this stuff. Right-wing Catholics have been pleading with the Vatican to excommunicate me along with Mario Cuomo, Patrick Leahy, Ted Kennedy and Ellie Smeal for about 20 years. They frequently announce that I have excommunicated myself because of my pro-choice views, but as is true for 99.9 percent of pro-choice Catholics, no one who could actually excommunicate me has ever done so.

Excommunication in the 21st century might have some benefits. Like Sonia Johnson. who was excommunicated from the Mormon church for her support of the Equal Rights Amendment, I could get a book contract, go on a speaking tour and have a couple years of celebrity. And, since there is no way the church could effectively police the excommunication, I could also ignore it and keep going to Mass and taking Communion. As one canon lawyer told me, the church has only the power we give it. No more burning at the stake, no loss of one's job, no Vatican prisons -- what are they going to do?

But in the end, excommunication is no joking matter, No Catholic, however rebellious and irreverent, wants to be excommunicated. And so I spent my 25 years as head of Catholics for a Free Choice with my fingers crossed. The fact that there were no firm canonical grounds for excommunication did not mean some overzealous bishop wouldn't do the wrong thing. And because bishops are still feudal princes, the excommunication would be allowed to stand.
Catholic politicians tend to worry more than radical women about the church's official disapproval because they have something more to lose -- elections and credibility. During political campaigns threats of excommunication can become a distraction from getting heard on big issues like healthcare and war. When John Kerry was on "wafer watch," with reporters camped out in front of whatever church he was going to that Sunday in order to see if he would be turned away from the altar, he had trouble getting his message out. And no doubt he was scared. Catholics of a certain age remember public humiliation from Sister Mary Ignatius as the source of schoolroom angst. Just go to a Christopher Durang play if you don't know what I'm talking about.

While no one is getting excommunicated and the lesser penalty of denying a person Communion is very rare, bishops and cardinals are talking about these "options" more than ever. The week before last, Pope Benedict got dragged into the debate during an impromptu press conference on "Shepherd One," the plane taking him to Brazil for a state visit. The pope was asked if legislators who voted to legalize abortion in Mexico City should be excommunicated. "Yes," he replied, "the excommunication was not something arbitrary. It is part of the code [of canon law]."
End of story? Hardly. Within moments the papal spokesperson, the Rev. Federico Lombardi, was walking the pope's remarks back for reporters, noting that the Mexicans hadn't yet taken any action. "If the bishops [of Mexico City] haven't excommunicated anyone, it's not that the pope wants to," he explained. The next day, the Vatican published a transcript of the pope's remarks, and the "yes" was nowhere to be found. As Lombardi explained, "Every time the pope speaks off the cuff, the secretariat of state reviews and cleans up his remarks."

But what's to "clean up"? The pope is worried about changes in the abortion law throughout Latin America, not just Mexico. The Colombian Supreme Court declared laws against abortion unconstitutional in that country. The very Catholic Brazilian president told Catholic radio stations that while he was personally opposed to abortion, Brazil's social conditions mean that some pregnant women need help. "The state needs to treat [abortion] as a matter of public health." In Uruguay, the House passed a liberal abortion law four and a half years ago, and although it failed in the Senate in 2004, the issue is expected to emerge again.

And yet, the pope -- and it seems most Catholic bishops -- do not excommunicate; they equivocate. Again, take Mexico. Maria Mejia, the president of Mexico's Catholics for the Right to Decide, claimed that at the beginning of the abortion debate, the spokesman for the Mexico City Archdiocese, the Rev. Hugo Valdemar, had said that legislators who supported the law would be "automatically excommunicated." Later, the Mexican bishops' conference repeated the claim that politicians who support abortion, doctors who perform them, and women who have them automatically excommunicate themselves. Several legislators responded by asking the bishops to send them written confirmation of their excommunication. The bishops backed off. Cardinal Rivera Carrera, head of the bishops' conference, announced that he was not excommunicating anyone, but that legislators who had voted to legalize abortion were "impeded from receiving communion."

In the absence of any willingness from the hierarchy to issue an actual, formal "bull of excommunication," which requires due process, warnings and canonical justification, conservative church leaders prefer ambiguity. They tell us we have "excommunicated ourselves" by supporting legal abortion (which, in fact, is also what Lombardi ultimately told reporters the pope had meant to say about Mexican legislators). Or church officials "advise" policy makers that they should not present themselves for Communion if they are not in a "state of grace" and suggest that supporting legal abortion means they can't be in a state of grace. Such pronouncements make good headlines, but they do not intimidate well-educated Catholics. Increasingly, we know canon law as well as we know civil law.

In reality, it is quite difficult to excommunicate yourself, even if you do have an abortion. Only seven acts merit automatic excommunication, and only three of those acts can be committed by laypeople. One of them is to attempt to assassinate the pope, another is profaning the Host (the Communion wafer), and the last is to successfully perform or have an abortion. No attempted or actual "murder" other than abortion subjects you to the ultimate penalty of automatic excommunication -- you can massacre thousands of civilians in war and, while you will surely have sinned, you are not automatically excommunicated.

But the code of canon law also states that "automatic" excommunication for abortion is not really automatic. Canon law 1323 sets out the exceptions for excommunication. If one is under 17, ignorant of the penalty for one's deed, acts out of fear or coercion, or believes one's action is moral, the penalty does not apply. Many canon lawyers have said that it is unlikely that any woman who has an abortion does not meet one of those exculpatory conditions. Even economic stress could be considered to be coercive.

A friend who was formerly president of a Catholic women's college once told me about a meeting between college presidents and a prominent Catholic bishop, who complained that the educators had educated women too well. It would seem that many Catholics are now too well-educated. We follow our conscience -- and as much as that may make papal politics difficult, our bishops know we are within our rights.

RIP: Jerry Falwell

No self-respecting Christina would gloat over the death yesterday of Jerry Falwell, founder of the Moral Majority. But one wonders about the frosty reception he must be receiving in Heaven today. Purportedly a true warrior in the Army of The One, Falwell was on the wrong side of so many battles in the late-20th century culture wars. Though a famous promoter of the 10 commandments and bibical literalism, Falwell nonetheless took part in one of the greatest smear campaigns in American political history -- he dissemination of vicious (and false) attacks on Bill Clinton that portrayed the former president as a murderer. Nothing like setting aside the commandment agaist bearing false witness against one's neighbor in the interst of partisan gain.

Then there's Jerry's famous statement just after 9/11 blaming the attack on gays, lesbians and the ACLU, among others. The man was a born-again smearmeister. Not to mention the aspersions he spread about Tinky-Winky, the most inoffensive of the Teletubbies. Let's face it, when it came to blaming, never let it be said that Reverend Falwell picked anyone his size. Male and white makes right - mmm, hmm

Maybe Jerry ought to be nervous if he hears Saint Peter propose a toast. he joke might be on him. Purgatory might be just he place to ponder the many minds that Jerry led astray in his day.

CNN ran a story today about Falwell's mixd legacy. Read all about it.

Movie ReviewL Into the Great Silence

"Into the Great Silence" is a German film about French monks who pray in Latin. The monastery of the Grande Chartreuse in the French Alps houses a community of monks of the Carthusian order that has been praying in nearly-total silence and solitude for nearly a millennium. It took the filmmakers over a decade to obtain permission to film at the monastery, but the results are lovely. The monks live in an isolated Bavarian-style villa high in the mountains and hew to an austere daily regimen. They rise well before dawn to pray -- alone in their cells -- for hours. They occasionally gather to chant the liturgy of the hours. They retreat to their cells, where they take meals, bathe and study in solitude and silence. The film follows the monks through their day and over the course of a year, from the deep snows of winter, through the planting season, and around again to winter.

The film is long, it must be said. It features long, lingering shots of the monks at prayer -- favoring closeup shots of an ear, fingers, lips and eyes. But visually, the film is breathtaking. The interior of the monks' cells is spare, with plain wood furnishings and gray, stone walls. The diffuse lighting is almost entirely natural. Many of the shots achieve a Flemish painter's level of natural beauty and homeliness, with parts of the shot plunging into darkness. The camera lingers lovingly on small elements of the monkish life: a candle flame that hovers almost disembodied near the tabernacle in a near-dark chapel during middle-of-the-night prayer; a view of a snow-laden roof seen through a monk's window. The potential monotony of this approach is broken up using a number of techniques. Monks are caught as they make small movements -- adjusting the flue in a wood stove, eating from a tin of soup, scrubbing a plate, learning a new chant. Communal moments are shown as well -- the monks getting haircuts, filling pitchers of water, walking to chapel. The camera also focuses on the small things of nature -- a leaf, a rushing spring, water dripping from a drying dish, a patch of sky -- permitting us to study the beauty and simplicity of the small elements of the creation that surrounds us. In all of these ways, viewers find themselves drawn into the monks' silent world of prayer.

There are drawbacks and debatable choices. The filmmakers interspersed standard film stock with scenes made by (or in imitation of) the shaky home movie stock of the 1960s. Perhaps this was done in an attempt to provide a sense of the community's longevity. But the technique came just "this close" to being the a precious, film-school distraction. Though the Gregorian neums and script in the wonderfully over-sized chant books are an object of the filmmakers' attention, the contents of those beautiful words is never apparent. Those who have chanted the Divine Office during a retreat may know what is going on (the chanting of all 150 psalms over the course of a few weeks), but others will not. Too, there is a focus on the seasons of the year, but not on the seasons of the Church -- Advent, Christmas, Lent and Easter -- which are enormously more significant to the monks. Then again, with a single unfortunate exception, one does not know much about the contents of or the motivation for the monks' prayer. What do they spend so much time doing -- meditating on the Passion? Scripture study? Self-analysis and reflection? By the same token, this lack of information brings viewers into contact with their own inner monologue -- "what are they doing now?" "How long will this movie last?" "How is the film structured?" These reflections, born of the silence of the movie theater, may precisely map to the inner lives of the men the film portrays. A more pressing issue is with the biblical texts that are occasionally (and with deliberate repetition) displayed on the screen. One verse, from Jeremiah, was horribly mistranslated from the French. The French read, "You seduced me, and I *allowed myself to be* seduced." The translation read, "You seduced me, and I was seduced," not entirely the same thing. Missing from both was the context of the verse, in which the prophet Jeremiah accuses God of luring him into prophetic career that caused him to be mocked and derided -- a far cry from the gentle feeling these words evoke when divorced from their biblical context. And one more problem: the one monk who spoke about his inner life was an elderly, blind man whose gentle piety was a vapid as his sight was blunted. One can only hope that others had an interior life that was less pollyannaish.

"Into Great Silence" is a challenging film on many levels. It is not easy to spend three hours watching others pray. But in the end, it succeeds in bringing the interior life of the monastery to a cinematic audience. Whatever flaws it suffers are subsumed to that larger and more worthy achievement -- the devotion of one's entire life to the worship of God.

Book Review: Why I Am A Catholic

"Why I Am a Catholic" by Garry Wills

Why popes need the Church and vice versa

Garry Wills is a paradox. He viciously attacks some of his Church's most public teachings, harshly questions the competence and motives of its leadership and challenges its image of itself. He is also madly in love with it, appreciating it for what it has managed to retain of its mission and calling. He is liberal and old-fashioned - a pre-Vatican-II-born Catholic who wields a pen-sword of truth in one hand, a rosary in the other and knows how to use both.

"Why I Am a Catholic" is Wills's response to the criticism he received from some quarters about his previous book, "Papal Sins." Many (including this reviewer) saw that book as an attack on celibacy, priesthood and the papacy. Not so, says Wills. A more careful reading would have shown it to be an attack was on the "structures of deceit" that the Church has built into itself. These structures defend celibacy, for instance, by knowingly twisting the meaning of scripture to fit pre-conceived conclusions. Wills doesn't seem to care whether the Church teaches celibacy, opposes contraception or reserves the priesthood to men. He detest the Church when it relies on untruths, selective history, outdated philosophy and bad scholarship to do so. Wills argues loudly and persuasively that using lies to sell truth is ultimately a losing proposition. And, I might add, even a diabolical one.

This volume attempts to set the record straight. But as the Church has allowed such an overgrowth of pietism, nonsense and superstition to flourish, Wills is compelled yet again to wield his machete of truth-telling with his characteristic vigor.

This book, which should have been called "Why Popes Matter," is written in three-parts. Part I details Wills's childhood and education. Raised in difficult economic times in the Midwest, he received his education at the hands of the Jesuits. At the time, this order was a fusty version of its old vigorous self, relying more on fleshly mortifications and [...]-retentive rule-mongering than on the innovative spiritual experiments of its founder, Ignatius of Loyola. Wills loved his teachers, though the curriculum was a straightjacket that forbade forays into secular literature, something suffocating to a nimble mind like Wills's. Still, he felt enough of a pull to consider joining the Jesuits, though he soon dropped out before making vows.

Part II, the longest, is a fairly detailed exposition of the history of the papacy. Wills makes it clear throughout that the term "papacy" is a misnomer for the institution, a modern concept retrojected into the history of the bishops of Rome to legitimize their rule and position. Wills starts with Peter, the bumbling disciple of Christ, his denier, his misunderstander, but ultimately, the one to whom he entrusted his sheep. Wills follows Peter to his likely execution in Rome, but makes the now-familiar case that Peter was no bishop of that city, even less so a pope. The same can be said of a number of men who followed Peter as leaders of the local Church. Not until the start of the first century can anyone be said to have possessed the self-awareness of being a bishop of Rome. Wills provides a fascinating glimpse into the relationship between the bishop of Rome and the rest of the Church. From its earliest days, Rome was an apostolic church, along with Alexandria, Jerusalem and Antioch. But it was a weak sister. The Council of Nicaea in 325 was dominated by the intellects of the Eastern Church, with a few stragglers from backwards and intellectually unsophisticated places like Rome.

From this inauspicious beginning, Wills traces the history of the papacy (still a misnomer, but useful shorthand) through its early years, through the glorious fiasco of the Middle Ages and into the modern time. Wills paints the institution as having been sometimes in serious error, even heresy; beholden to some princes (Constantine, Charlemagne and Otto) and imperiously superior to others; land-holding and land-broke; alternately dismissive of and dependent on councils; lashing out at modernity (and democracy and free speech) and embracing those same values. Wills spends much space on the more well-documented recent history of the Church -especially with the landmark Second Vatican Council. He ends with the papacy of John Paul I (still alive as Wills went to print this book in 2003) and with tantalizing glimpses of a certain "bete noir," Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVI. These latter two men are seen rightly by Wills as attempting to undo the "liberalizing" tendencies of Vatican II. Where V2 stressed the collegiality of bishops, JP2 and BB16 have worked hard to neutralize the autonomy of bishops and impress their own autocratic vision of Church "unity".

Ultimately, Wills ends this section with the idea to which the entire book has been leading. This is the idea that the papacy is part of the carsism of Peter" - the gospel-based leadership that Christ bestowed on Peter. But he innovates by counterbalancing this centralizing tendency with the need for the Church as a whole to correct Peter. Having laid out the history of the popes, it is very easy to see where the Church - through individual bishops like Augustine, to councils and even the tendency of the laity to resist dangerous innovation - have pushed the papacy. Together, both the papacy and the Church have corrected each other, and have ultimately kept each other on the narrow path. Wills see this kind of corrective action in the resistance of the laity to papal edicts attempting to limit discussion of birth control and male priesthood. If the laity only knew the power that it had.

Part II of the book, is a short excursus on the Apostle's Creed. This material is interesting, but not central to Wills's thesis. Garry Wills empbioesb the best in Catholic scholarship. He is devout without being obsequious; a son of the Church not afraid to warn his Mother she is driving the family over a cliff. His gift is to cut through thr cloying and self-serving faced that Church officials construct for themselves, blasting away until he gets to the Rock - not Peter in this case, but Christ, whose spirit continues to enliven the Church.

Manufacturing belief

I enjoy reading the thoughts of atheists, the most interesting of whom are gentle British scientists. This does not make me an atheist, of course. But it's fun to read the extreme opposing view to one's own beliefs. The article below has some interesting points to make. If at some point a pre-human brain developed an ability to perceive cause-and-effect relationships better than others in its clan, and this ability conferred an advantage, then natural selection would have selected for this trait. Over time, as this person's offspring developed variations on this ability, presumably, cause-and-effect pre-humans would predominate their less-gifted cousins.

But what happens to a person with a cause and effect brain when faced with a situation (disease, death, bad weather) whose cause is unknown? Will that person experience a cognitive dissonance so severe that he/she will have to invent a cause -- say a godlike, invisible reality -- to calm his brains? Developmental biologist (and atheist) Lewis Wolpert takes on this question in an interview, excerpted here from http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2007/05/15/lewis_wolpert/print.html

What is your theistic reply to this line of reasoning? To call it false? Could a transcendent being work through the natural world to create such a talent? Or would such a being merely exploit it once it developed naturally? In one scenario, God actively "creates" -- by switching on a gene or whatever -- to move evolution in a particular direction. In the other scenario, God is more passive, waiting for changes to happen so that he can communicate with the being thus enabled -- in effect, waiting for the 2-way radio to build itself so he can talk with its owner.

Anyway, food for thought.

TCC
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Manufacturing belief
The origin of religion is in our heads, explains developmental biologist Lewis Wolpert. First we figured out how to make tools, then created a supernatural being.
By Steve Paulson

May. 15, 2007 In Lewis Carroll's "Through the Looking Glass," Alice tells the White Queen that she cannot believe in impossible things. But the Queen says Alice simply hasn't had enough practice. "When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." That human penchant for belief -- or perhaps gullibility -- is what inspired biologist Lewis Wolpert to write a book about the evolutionary origins of belief called "Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast."

Wolpert is an eminent developmental biologist at University College London. Like fellow British scientist Richard Dawkins, he's an outspoken atheist with a knack for saying outrageous things. Unlike Dawkins, Wolpert has no desire to abolish religion. In fact, he thinks religious belief can provide great comfort and points to medical studies showing that the faithful tend to suffer less stress and anxiety than nonbelievers. In Wolpert's view, religion has given believers an evolutionary advantage, even though it's based on a grand illusion.

He has a theory for why religion first took root. He thinks human brains evolved to become "belief engines." Once our ancient ancestors understood cause and effect, they figured out how to manipulate the natural world. In essence, toolmaking made us human. Similarly, early hominids felt compelled to find causes for life's great mysteries, including illness and death. They came to believe in unseen gods and spirits.

Wolpert sees human credulity all around him -- not just religious faith but all sorts of modern superstitions. His book targets astrology, psychics, homeopathy and acupuncture. Wolpert has participated in public debates with maverick scientist Rupert Sheldrake about telepathy and other paranormal experiences. He dismisses Sheldrake's theory -- that "morphic fields" can transmit thoughts through space and time -- as nonsense.

There's no doubt that Wolpert is a provocateur, but unlike some other prominent atheists, he doesn't come across as a bitter enemy of religion. In conversation, his pronouncements are often punctuated by laughter and mock horror. I spoke with Wolpert by phone about the origins of religion, his doubts about telepathy and acupuncture, and why the debate over religion is so personal for him.

Can you explain the "belief engine" in the human brain?
What makes us different from all other animals is that we have causal beliefs about the physical world. I know that if I throw this glass at the window, it's probably going to break. Children have this understanding at a very early age. Animals, on the other hand, have a very poor understanding of cause and effect in the physical world. My argument is that causal understanding gave rise to toolmaking; that was the evolutionary advantage. It's toolmaking that's really driven human evolution. This is not widely accepted, I'm afraid, but there's no question about it. It's tools that really made us human. They may even have given rise to language.

But there is evidence that some animals have a very primitive form of toolmaking.
There's no question that certain apes are at the edge of causal understanding and they do make some very simple tools. Chimpanzees can break a nut with a stone. They can also take a stick and peel it to get ants out of a tree. But it's still very primitive. Curiously, some crows show remarkable toolmaking, using sticks to get things out of bottles. But on the whole, it's primitive compared to us.

And I suppose the radically new thing our ancestors did was to put two objects together -- for instance, a piece of stone on a wooden handle.
Precisely. You can't do that without having a concept of cause and effect. And once you had that concept, you wanted to understand the causes of other things that mattered in your life, like illness. That's the origin of religion. The most obvious causes were those things caused by humans, so people imagined there was some sort of god with human characteristics. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of different gods in different societies.

So once you have an understanding of cause and effect, then ignorance is no longer tolerable? You want to explain everything.
Exactly. You know, we cannot tolerate not knowing the causes of things that affect our lives. If you go to the doctor when you're ill, the one thing you can't stand is the doctor saying he or she has no idea what's wrong with you. And when they do diagnose you, I'm prepared to bet that on your way home, you'll tell yourself a story as to why you got ill.

But which came first: understanding cause and effect or learning to make tools?
They went together, but you cannot make complex tools without a concept of cause and effect. You must remember that no animal has a basket. If they go away from water, they can't take any water with them. They can't carry things. However, we're driven by interacting with our environment and looking for causes that affect our lives.

Are you saying our brains are hard-wired for belief?
Our brains are absolutely hard-wired for causal belief. And I think they're a bit soft-wired for religious and mystical belief. Those people who had religious beliefs did better than those who did not, and they were selected for.

Why did they do better?
They were less anxious. They also had someone to pray to. In general, religious people are somewhat healthier than people who don't have religious beliefs.

Haven't studies shown that religious believers tend to be more optimistic, and that they're less prone to strokes and high blood pressure?
Yes, exactly. Therefore, evolution will select them.

So religion gives us a sense of purpose and meaning, even though in your view it's totally an illusion.
Yes, many people would find it very hard to live without religion. But there is no meaning, I regret to tell you. [Laughs] We don't understand where the universe came from. But to say God made it, well, you want to say, who made God?

To say there's no meaning is a pretty depressing assessment, isn't it?
No, why should there be a meaning? I mean, we want a cause as to why we're here, but I'm afraid there isn't one. I don't find it depressing at all. I think it's remarkable that evolution has brought us into being. We're only here for one purpose, from an evolutionary point of view, and that's to reproduce.

You write that you were once quite a religious child yourself. When did you turn away from religion?
I came from quite a conventional Jewish family -- not Orthodox, but conventional -- in South Africa. I had to say my prayers every night. And I used to pray to God to help me in various things but found it didn't help. So I stopped being religious.

Your son became a fundamentalist Christian after a difficult late adolescence. Is he still an evangelical Christian?
No, he's not. The church he was in broke up. He's still a believer, but he doesn't go to church.

Does his faith bother you?
No. I found that religion was helping him a great deal. It gave him someone to pray to. He became a member of a church where they could discuss their problems. And I think the idea that he would eventually go to heaven gave him a great deal of encouragement.
Has your son read the chapter on religion in your book? It's rather dismissive of religion.
He knows I'm dismissive of it. In fact, I just spoke to him last night on the telephone and asked him, "Did I ever try to dissuade you from being religious?" He said, "No, you never did." I wouldn't agree with him, but I never tried to dissuade him not to be.

Do you find yourself wondering about ultimate meaning? Does that matter in your life?
Never. Ultimate meaning has no meaning in my life. I sound a bit shallow, but I think it's actually quite deep not to be bothered by that sort of thing.

You call David Hume your "hero philosopher." Why do you like him so much?
First of all, I don't like any other philosopher. I think philosophers are terribly clever but have absolutely nothing useful to say whatsoever. I avoid philosophy like mad. But David Hume does say such interesting and important things. He's very good on religion, for example. I like him for that.

Well, he didn't like religion.
No, it's not that he didn't like religion. If you take miracles, for example, there's a lovely quote from David Hume that you shouldn't believe in any miracle unless the evidence is so strong that it would be miraculous not to believe in it.

There are various competing theories about the origins of religion. One is the idea that religion evolved because it helped bind people together in social groups. Essentially, it acted like social glue. Why don't you think that's right?
I don't think it's wrong. There is some evidence that religion does lead to a community with shared views. But you have to ask, Why does religion deal so much with cause and effect? That comes from causal beliefs.

What about Daniel Dennett's idea that religion is a kind of "meme" -- an idea that has infected human cultures and keeps on spreading?
If you could tell me what a meme is, and how useful it is, I'd be very grateful. [Laughs] Please don't misunderstand, I'm a great admirer of Richard Dawkins [who developed the concept of memes]. But what are memes? How do you decide whether something is a meme or not? And what you really want to understand is, how is it passed on and why does it persist? This is never discussed. So for Daniel Dennett -- who's a philosopher, after all -- to get involved with memes, the moment he does that, I just stop reading him.

Virtually all these theories draw on evolutionary psychology. But I wonder if we're losing the flavor of religious experience, the willingness to live in mystery, embrace imagination and intuition.
Sometimes I've thought it must be quite nice to believe in religion. I'm getting quite old. The idea that I might go to heaven -- of course, there's also the possibility, in my case, that I would go to hell -- is quite an attractive one. Unfortunately, I don't believe that for a single second. I mean, the evidence for God is simply nonexistent.

Isn't there more to religion than belief in supernatural beings?
Certainly not.

But many theologians and scholars, such as historian Karen Armstrong, say religion at its root is not really about a set of beliefs. It's more about how to live your life and being compassionate in the world.
Well, many people who are atheists can behave quite well. That doesn't make us religious. No, it doesn't work like that at all.

I grant that. But do you really think religion comes down to belief in the supernatural?
When I talk about religion, I'm talking about belief in the supernatural. In Western society, we're talking about God. I don't believe you can be religious without having some concept of a god.

What about William James? He talked about religion as experience more than belief.
I think "The Varieties of Religious Experience" is one of the best books written about belief. Nothing has really changed since he wrote it a hundred years ago. He did point out that many people become religious because they had a religious experience. And that fits with my idea that we're partly wired to have religious beliefs. If you take the active component of a magic mushroom and give it to a group of people, quite a few of them will have mystical, almost religious, beliefs. It must mean the circuits are there which are turned on by the drug.

So it all comes down to the chemicals that are firing in the brain?
I'm afraid so. Your neural circuits, yes.