The End of Christianity (19 page)

Taking the Bible seriously does that. If you read the scriptures and are not shocked out of all your religious beliefs, you have not understood them. If you don't believe me (and you don't have to), just keep reading. The novelty and fatality of the arguments lie in the way they will combine philosophy of religion with the history of Israelite religion—and we shall never have to appeal to anything but what is in the Bible itself. The focus will be on the Old Testament, and if the discussion to follow does not open your eyes to the Bible as fantasy literature, and the God of the Bible as nothing more than a memorable old monster, nothing will.

YAHWEH'S BODY

Most believers might think of “God” as incorporeal and spiritual. But if this is the case, they do not believe in Yahweh as depicted in many biblical texts. Many don't, and do not appreciate the truth expressed in the popular joke suggesting that, in the beginning, God created man in his own image and that man, in response, promptly returned the favor. In this regard, theologians, both biblical and systematic, have endlessly debated what it could possibly mean when, for example, Genesis 1:26–27 speaks of man being created in “the image of God.” They have insisted that the obvious meaning of the words—that God was believed to look like a male human because it was thought that God created humans to look like himself (see Gen. 5:1–3; 9:6)—cannot possibly be what was intended. Sophisticated apologetics notwithstanding, this is what Genesis 1 seems to be saying, and I wish to take it seriously.
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Most references to Yahweh are not symbolic. It cannot be denied that there are a number of textual references to the body (and body parts) of Yahweh that, in the context of biblical narratives, seem to have functioned as nonmetaphorical descriptions of what the deity supposedly actually looks like. Thus, in the book of Exodus, we find literal references to Yahweh's face (Exod. 33:20); his backside (Exod. 33:23); his hands and fingers (Exod. 31:18); his feet (Exod. 24:10–11); and so on. There are other texts implying that Yahweh literally has a nose with which to smell the pleasant aromas of sacrifices (Gen. 8:21; Lev. 1:9, 13, 17; 26:31). The presence of some literalism in the Old Testament texts is therefore to be acknowledged: we all need to take the Bible seriously. When Christian scholars try to tone down the problem with the concept of anthropomorphism (i.e., speaking as if Yahweh appeared only in human form but does not look like a human), it's because they, too, realize the absurdity in such a belief.

One justification for taking seriously the Old Testament's religious language can be found in the recognition that nonmetaphorical elements tend to spill over into those depictions of Yahweh that make sense only if the limitations of embodiment are assumed to be of constraining effect on him. Thus we find him needing to rest in order to be refreshed (Gen. 2:1; Exod. 31:17); having to travel to obtain information and to verify reports (Gen. 3:8–11; 11:5–7; 18:17); needing to test people to discern their beliefs, intentions, and motives (Gen. 22; Deut. 8:2; 2 Chron. 32:31; etc.); being forced to act based on a fear of human potential (Gen. 3:22; 11:5–7); being of insufficient power so that his people could not defeat the enemy because it had iron chariots during the battle (Judg. 1:21) and desiring assistance in some matters (Judg. 5:23; 1 Kings 22:20–23; Isa. 63:3–5); etc.
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Having a male body, Yahweh was believed to have male body parts. This also means sexual organs (i.e., “loins,” Ezek. 1:27–28). Texts such as Genesis 6:4, where the gods come to have intercourse with female humans, assume as much, as does the New Testament discreet divine visitation of the teenage virgin Mary. In historical research and biblical archaeology it is commonly accepted that we have evidence that a goddess was worshipped in ancient Israel as Yahweh's consort (Asherah).
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But the groups that were responsible for the final text of the Old Testament made sure few traces of the goddess remained, which resulted in a very sexist scenario in which heaven is an all-male world. The closest one gets to how Yahweh would relate to a goddess is when Yahweh calls Israel or the cities in the land his wife/bride (as in Ezekiel and Hosea). Looking at how he treats his spouse, however, shows us an all-too-human mind prone to domestic violence and emotional abuse, despite whatever more positive and affectionate character traits Yahweh as husband is depicted as displaying.
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But there is more that reveals absurdity in the text, and it concerns something more pedantic but often overlooked in discussions of the body of Yahweh, and that is God as a language user. God just happens to have a Hebrew name, Yahweh, a fact that seems peculiar to few believers who still pray in the name of their god without wondering why this is so important or why he needs one (one can just call him “God”). In addition, according to the text, we have to take seriously the assumption that at the creation of the heavens and the earth (why does a god want to create stuff?) even before northwestern Semitic languages evolved (of which Hebrew is one), Yahweh spoke the world into being via a particular dialect of classical Hebrew that evolved among humans, stayed around only for a short time in a local bit of human history, and then vanished everywhere except from heaven. But think about it: at the moment God initially speaks at creation, the story makes little sense at all. When God says “Let there be light!” in classical Hebrew, there is nobody for whom what God utters is language rather than just a wordless shout. There is no community of speakers for whom what God cries amounts to an imperative, a command that requires something to happen. So how does God know what to say, and how can he be sure what he utters is a meaningful language with a certain force? There could not have been any established social conventions at creation, there is only our own projection in order to describe a bit of divine behavior as a certain type of action, as distinct from reflex twitches and meaningless gesticulations. The idea of a language user who is conscious as a speaker of classical Hebrew all by himself for all eternity makes no sense at all.
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Few readers through the ages have picked up this problem, and those who did soon resorted to philosophical-theological reinterpretation. Many medieval Jewish authorities maintained that Hebrew was the language of God without ever being bothered by the question of why God should speak a particular, historically temporal, and culturally specific dialect of classical Hebrew. Part of this dilemma for the logistics of creation by word was recognized in 1851 when German philologist Jacob Grimm argued that if God spoke language, indeed any language that involves dental consonants, God must have teeth, and since teeth were created not for speech but for eating, it would follow that he also eats, which led to so many other undesirable assumptions for those with theological preferences that the idea was abandoned altogether.
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This worry is certainly anachronistic inasmuch as Genesis 1 assumes humans are theomorphic rather than God being anthropomorphic. The latter is surely naive from an evolutionary perspective, and nowadays mainstream biblical scholars do not read Genesis 1 as history or science, so the question of credibility does not arise. Which is fine, but while such worries are pseudo problems due to category mistakes in genre analysis, the trouble with not trying to relate the language to reality is that one misses out on coming to grips with the absurd folk-philosophy of language running through the myth.

For many biblical commentators and philosophers, God does not have any form and only
appears
in human form. Nice thought, but unfortunately this is not what the Bible teaches in texts where the humanoid form of Yahweh is assumed to be his true form (e.g., Exod. 33:20–23), the one he is assumed to have even in heaven. The Christian philosophical reinterpretation of this is nothing more than a strategy of evasion by people who cannot admit to themselves that they, too, no longer find it possible to believe in “God” (aka Yahweh), any more than they believe in Zeus. The Greek philosophers did the same thing with the Greek gods when they began to find their representations too crude. Believers will continue doing so for the foreseeable future.

YAHWEH'S MIND

The people who wrote the Old Testament also made the fatal mistake of constructing Yahweh with what today appears to be a rather unflattering psychological (cognitive, conative, and affective) profile.
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First of all, the mind of the god of the Bible exhibits a library of provably errant knowledge. When Yahweh speaks in the first person in the texts of the Old Testament, the deity is often depicted as making statements that include references to historical, cosmographical, geographical, biological, and other types of phenomena that we today know are not factual. What betrays the all-too human origin of the divine mind is the simple fact that the ideas Yahweh entertains about reality are hardly better than the superstitions and misconceptions in the indigenous knowledge systems of the people who worshipped him.
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Thus Yahweh himself believes that the universe was literally created over a period of six days (Exod. 31:17) and that there is an ocean above the stars behind a firmament from where rainwater falls to the earth (Gen. 1:6; Job 38:34).
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He also believes that the landmass of the earth floats on water (Deut. 5:8; Ps. 24:2) and that there is literally a place underground where the dead live as shades according to their nationalities (Num. 16:23–33; Deut. 32:22; Job 38:16–17; Isa. 7:11; Ezek. 26:19–20; 32:18–32; Amos 9:2). Yahweh also believes in mythical creatures like the Leviathan, Rahab, Behemoth, sea monsters, flying dragons, demons of the field, malevolent spirits of the night, etc. (cf. Job 40–41; Isa. 30:6; Lev. 17:7; Isa. 34:14; Amos 9:3; etc.). He even assumes that thought issues from the heart and emotions from the kidneys (Jer. 17:10; etc.).

Yahweh also believes in the historicity of Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, and David, all as depicted in the biblical traditions, at least according to the texts in which he speaks to them and in subsequent stories in which his character refers back to them as though they were real people (see, for example, Ezek. 14). But if these people as they are depicted are fictions (as scholars have established), how can Yahweh—speaking to fictions and referring to them as reality—not himself be fictitious? Surely such factually errant beliefs on the part of Yahweh prove this god cannot exist as depicted.
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Even if we insisted that what we encounter in these texts are simply the errant beliefs of humans and not a god's own thoughts, we have lost any grounds for believing that the character of Yahweh has any extratextual counterpart. Who would Yahweh be without Adam, Abraham, or Moses as depicted in the texts anyway?

But there is more about the divine mind that seems rather absurd. It is not just Yahweh's beliefs about the world that sometimes seem all too human. The deity also exhibits all-too-human needs or desires that drive him obsessively in pursuit of their fulfillment. Thus few people ever stop to wonder why God, aka Yahweh, must have a people to rule over (Exod. 19:6; Deut. 4:19; 32:8–9) and is quite anxious to maintain a formidable reputation based on ancient Near Eastern conceptions of the values of honor and shame (Deut. 32:26–27; Mal. 1–3). Yahweh is very concerned about keeping his name secret (Gen. 32; Exod. 6; Judg. 16; etc.) and like some cosmic upper-class aristocrat prefers to have his abode far away and high above human society so as not to be disturbed by mortals (Gen. 11,18; Exod. 24; etc.). Yahweh needs to limit his direct and personal contact with the general population and, for the most part, prefers to act through intermediaries, agents, messengers, and armies. He enjoys and demands being feared (Exod. 20:19–20; Job 38–41). More than anything, Yahweh yearns to be worshipped and to have constant reminders of how wonderful, powerful, and great he is (Isa. 6:2–3; etc.).

Take this last example: Yahweh's desire to be worshipped. Many people take this need of God for granted but never bother to ask why God wants—no, demands—to be worshipped. It is one thing if creatures, in awe of their creator, erupt spontaneously in praise. It is quite another if the creator should be thought of as having premeditated the formation of creatures who exist solely for the purpose of perpetually reminding him how exalted and powerful and benign he is (Isa. 6). I mean, is it really credible to believe that the ultimate reality is a person who is so narcissistic and egotistic that he has to prescribe in minute detail exactly how he wants to be worshipped? Why do we take for granted the idea of a god as so self-absorbed that he even threatens to destroy anyone diverging in any way from his instructions? Look at the details in Exodus 25–40 with regard to the furnishings and construction of the tabernacle and the niceties of the rituals. Such controlling obsessiveness can only be accounted for if we postulate behind it all a projection of human desire for control and order. As Don Cupitt notes (referring to a remark by Harold Bloom):

The god of the Hebrew Bible is like a powerful and uncanny male child, a sublime mischief-maker, impish and difficult. He resembles Lear and the Freudian superego in being a demonic and persecuting Father, entirely lacking in self-knowledge and very reluctant ever to learn anything. Like the human characters he interacts with, he has a continually changing consciousness. He manifests the pure energy and force of Becoming. He is Nietzschean Will to Power, abrupt and uncontrollable, and subject to nothing and nobody.
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The fact that Yahweh's own alleged needs seem suspiciously similar to the historically and culturally conditioned needs of “the-powers-that-be” known to his worshippers is best accounted for by viewing Yahweh's mind as represented in the particular texts as the product of humans projecting the power-drunk autocrats familiar to them onto an imaginary cosmic monarch. Since paranoid human rulers displayed these traits, the ancients reasoned that, if the cosmos is itself a monarchy with a (super) humanlike king at the top, he might just be as vain, despotic, and attention-seeking as any earthly monarch (yet with the same amount of savvy to maintain his popularity by occasional acts of charity and goodwill as his terrestrial counterparts). Who could afford to take chances? Better safe than sorry.