Has Pascal’s Wager Really Been “Debunked”?

Who Will Debunk the Debunkers?

     The totalitarian subjugation, debasement, and enslavement of language foreseen by prophets of dystopia such as George Orwell is in full flower.  I need not point out recent examples like “peaceful protest”, “court-packing”, and the like to show how many previously clear and serviceable expressions have been made to mean something other than what they purport to mean, sometimes even their exact opposite.  

     One such term with a long history of abuse is “debunk”.  This word originally meant to disprove, to show that a particular statement or argument was “bunk”, i.e., nonsense.  For some time now, however, I’ve seen certain people employ the term when they have made no serious effort to refute something, but have simply stated their disagreement. They often seem to think that if they simply invoke the word without actually making an argument, debunk will, through some numinous power of its own, refute an unwelcome assertion.

     Debunk has become something of a red flag for me because of this history of abuse.  It’s what caught my attention a few years back when I saw a reference to an article claiming to debunk Pascal’s Wager.  When I looked at the article in question I found that, to their credit, the authors did in fact make the effort to present arguments in support of their positions; the problem was, their arguments were themselves largely bunk.  But don’t take my word for it: I make my case below in an article I first published six years ago this month, “Has Pascal’s Wager Really Been ‘Debunked’?”.

The Wager

Blaise Pascal

    Is it true that Pascal’s Wager has been “debunked”? Most informed Catholics will be familiar with Pascal’s Wager, which is an argument 17th century Catholic philosopher and scientist Blaise Pascal developed in his Pensees.  Pascal says that whether to believe in God or not is a choice we all need to make.  There are four possible outcomes to our choice: if we choose to believe and we are right, we experience endless bliss after death, but if we are wrong we experience nothing at all, we simply cease to exist.  If we choose disbelief and we are right, we likewise experience nothing after this world, but if we are wrong we suffer eternal damnation.  Belief is clearly the best bet, because we risk nothing and stand to gain infinite joy, whereas disbelief gains us nothing even if we’re right, and costs us absolutely everything if we’re wrong.

Where’s the Bunk?

     It’s a simple and straightforward argument, and it seems pretty obvious.  You wouldn’t think that there was room for much “bunk” in it.  And yet the New Atheism’s evangelists of nothingness claim to have shown it to be an empty shell.  You can find websites created by self-proclaimed debunkers which present the main anti-Wager arguments (along with a fair amount of neo-atheist snark).  One such site, for instance, takes three main lines of attack:

1)      “It assumes that there is only one religion”, thus we are presented, not with two clear choices, but with a myriad of choices. This objection, which has been around since Pascal’s time, is traditionally known as the argument from inconsistent revelations.

2)      The second, as we shall see, is not so much an argument as an unsupported opinion: ‘Also, the second problem is that it assumes that the possibility that the Christian doctrine that “everyone is going to hell unless they become a Christian and accept Jesus as their Savior” is a realistic and significant possibility.  Perhaps they think it is even as probable as the possibility that there is no God.  However, based on the arguments in this book and in others linked, it should be clear that that probability is pretty much zero by now.’

3)      ‘Finally, few, if any, disbelievers disbelieve out of choice . . . Most disbelievers disbelieve simply because they know of no compelling evidence or reasons to believe . . .’ and  ‘Even if you said all the  right prayers and attended church regularly, that would still not be the same thing as believing from the heart, and any real God would obviously see straight through that.’

The Straw Man Cometh

    Let’s get the second out of the way first because, as I observed above, it is not a serious argument.  Our unbelieving friends make a sweeping assertion and offer no proof other than inviting us to read their book.  Sorry guys, your opinion isn’t proof of anything.  And if the quality of their argument here is any indication, I doubt that I’ll find the rest of their book any more persuasive (and I’m willing to bet I’ve heard all those “arguments” before, too).  This is no more than an attempt to dismiss the case before it can be litigated.

    Number one at least has the virtue of being an actual argument, one that was first raised, in fact, in Pascal’s lifetime (just as an aside, if Pascal’s Wager is “old and outdated”, as the debunkers assert, doesn’t the same criticism apply to their equally antique counter-argument?).  Pascal himself dismissed it as an attempt to derail the argument, a straw man, rather than an attempt to get at the truth, adding “But if you desire with all your heart to know it, it is not enough; look at it in detail.”   What he says next points up the main weakness with of this objection: “That would be sufficient in philosophy; but not here, where everything is at stake.”  His wager is not an exercise in formal logic, nor is it a metaphysical proof, nor is it an attempt to offer a comprehensive answer to all the possible possibilities raised by religious belief. Most of all, it is not a hypothetical question for the amusement of bored minds: it deals with a real life and death choice, an eternal life and death choice, that we all must make. He is offering his wager as a guide to making a real decision of which path to set out on, confident that a seeker who is sincerely looking for the truth will, ultimately, find it.

    The following analogy might help clarify what Pascal is getting at.  Suppose you’re driving down the road and you come to a T intersection.  A sign pointing to the right says “Jerusalem”, the sign pointing to the left says “Danger: Bridge Out.”  If you take the left road, you might find yourself driving into a river, or maybe the bridge will have been repaired, or there could be ferry service, who knows? If you take the right, there might be an unexpected landslide, or you might miss another turn and get lost, or you might get eaten by a lion; there are an endless variety of things that might happen.  You can’t know any of those things at the intersection, but you can be reasonably sure that if you want to get to Jerusalem, the right hand turn is your best bet, while the left will, at best, take you somewhere else, or at worst get you killed.  That’s what Pascal’s Wager is about, it’s about that initial decision to commit yourself to finding God, or to turn away.  If you choose God, you will still have an endless series of further choices and decisions ahead of you, even if you are sure that the Catholic Church is the True Church.  And remember, Pascal’s Wager doesn’t promise that you will find salvation if you choose God, only that you might, whereas if you choose to reject the possibility of God you definitely won’t.  The argument from inconsistent revelations does nothing to change that.

Belief is Belief . . . or is it?

     The third argument is a variant of the argument from inauthentic belief (briefly, that Pascal’s Wager is arguing for the outward appearance of belief, as opposed to actual belief).  Like the first, it misrepresents what the Wager is really saying, and misstates what Catholics have traditionally understood by “belief”.  It starts out, as does the debunkers’ second argument, with an unsupported assertion: “few, if any, disbelievers disbelieve out of choice”, followed by another, “Most disbelievers disbelieve simply because they know of no compelling evidence or reasons to believe.”  

Not only do they fail to provide any evidence for either statement, the two are, in fact, contradictory: if nobody chooses to disbelieve, then what does evidence have to do with it? In any case, they don’t say reasons and evidence don’t exist, but “they know of no compelling evidence or reasons to believe”.  The word “compelling” means persuasive, and implies that they do have a choice either to accept or reject the evidence on offer. And as it happens, according to polling data, 8 out of every 10 Americans do find the same evidence “compelling” enough to believe, so it would seem that whether or not it is “compelling” is in the eye of the beholder: we all do have a choice.  Or maybe believers don’t really choose either, in which case, why try to “debunk” anything, since none of us, apparently, have any control over our beliefs?  I have no choice but to believe this argument is simply incoherent.

    That leaves us with the argument that following the outward form of religious observance without “believing from the heart” would not count as real belief, and “any real God would obviously see straight through” it.  Like many fallacies, this point contains enough truth to make it appear plausible at first glance, because insincere belief is, of course, false belief.  

And Jesus said to him, “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” (Mark 10:52)

“Christ Heals The Blind Man” by Eustache Le Sueur, 1600’s

     Part of the problem here is that this objection misrepresents what a Christian means by belief, in the same way that the secular world misunderstands what is meant by “love”.  The modern secularist sees love as primarily an emotional effect, or even as pure emotion, and therefore something that happens to you, not something you do.  In the Christian view, Love is a decision of the will, informed by the intellect, and ideally supported by the emotions, but the emotional part is the least essential.  It is therefore possible to love, truly love, someone whom you heartily dislike if you sincerely desire what is best for them, without regard for your own self-interest. Genuine belief is likewise a conscious choice and a movement of the will.  

Emotions are a very unreliable guide to actions, but can serve to support and reinforce the will.  Very often we find that contrary emotions change (sometimes slowly) following a firm decision on our part, especially if we change our habits or practices to go along with it. Countless people have experienced such emotional changes after switching political parties, for instance, or changing some other allegiance.  In fact, it is very often the emotional attachments that keep people from switching long after they see solid reasons to do so, and it’s only after they decide to act that the emotions follow.  

    Pascal believed (as Catholics and many other people traditionally have) that reason, not emotion, should govern the will, but that emotions were the main obstacle for most people, certainly for those who claimed that they wanted to believe but could not. In a case such as this, the challenge is to get our emotions in line with our reasoned decisions. Accordingly, this is his advice to such people:

Learn from those who were bound like you . . . Follow the way by which they began: that is by doing everything as if they believed, by taking holy water, by having masses said, etc. Naturally, even this will make you believe and will dull you. -’But this is what I am afraid of.’ – And why? What have you to lose?

    Of course, Pascal was depending not only on the natural tendency of emotions to follow (at least eventually) a firm will, but also the working of God’s grace on those who are sincerely seeking Him, even if they are not yet sure that they have found him.

    Now, our atheist friends might point out that they don’t believe in God’s Grace, and our emotions don’t always do what we want them to do.  True enough.  But it also doesn’t matter.  Notice that Pascal isn’t offering a counter argument, but advice to those who might be hesitating, because the argument from inauthentic belief isn’t really an objection to Pascal’s Wager at all.  As I indicate in the“T intersection” analogy above, the Wager is solely concerned with whether it is wiser to choose a road that leads toward God, or one that leads away.  The choice itself is just a beginning, and is the same whether or not there might be difficulties or further choices along the way (as, in fact, we should expect there will be).

Is it really that complicated?

    The simplicity of the choice is what gives Pascal’s Wager its persuasive power. You can find critics who present much more formal and complicated discussions than the self-proclaimed debunkers cited above, but they are all variations of the same old arguments presented here, all of which have been around since Pascal’s day, and all of which rely on making his Wager something it is not.  They all have to do with raising questions about the certainty of Eternal Salvation, but that is, of course, why it is a wager in the first place, because there is no certainty in this world.  I have yet to see an argument that overcomes this stark, simple choice: what’s the worst that can happen if you gamble on God?  What’s the worst if you take the other path? Is it really that complicated?

J.S. Bach – Lobet Gott in Seinen Reichen (from the Ascension Oratorio)

     This coming Thursday is the Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord  . . . at least in many dioceses (and of course, wherever the traditional liturgical calendar is followed). It may not surprise you, if you are a regular reader of this blog, that I’m not a fan of moving important feasts like Ascension Thursday to the nearest Sunday in the hopes of roping in those who steer clear of The Lord’s House on weekdays.  I’m fortunate in that I live in a diocese where Ascension Thursday still falls on a Thursday.  If only they would move Epiphany back to January 6th . . .

     I may explore that topic in greater length later in the week, but that’s not what today’s post is about: today is Music Monday.  Whether your diocese celebrates the Ascension on Thursday or on the following Sunday, it’s coming up within the next week, so what is more appropriate than J.S. Bach’s magnificent Ascension Oratorio?

     The oratorio itself was first performed in 1735, on May 19th, the date of the Feast of the Ascension that year (and a Thursday; who would have guessed?). The video below contains  the opening chorus, “Lobet Gott in seinen Reichen” (Praise God in His Kingdoms), performed by the Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra & Choir.  The painting of the Ascension of Jesus in the video is by the American artist Benjamin West.  I’ve posted the words (by Christian Friedrich Henrici, who went by the pen name “Picander”) in German and in English translation underneath.

Featured image at top of page: “The Ascension”, by Benjaminm West, 1801

“Lobet Gott in seinen Reichen”, BWV 11
Ton Koopman, Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra & Choir
Album: Bach: Ascension Cantatas                                                                                        

Artwork: “The Ascension” by Benjamin West, 1801

Text:

Lobet Gott in seinen Reichen,
Preiset ihn in seinen Ehren,
Rühmet ihn in seiner Pracht;
Sucht sein Lob recht zu vergleichen,
Wenn ihr mit gesamten Chören
Ihm ein Lied zu Ehren macht!

Praise God in his kingdoms,

extol him in his honors

acclaim him in his splendor.

Seek to express his praise rightly

when with assembled choirsyou make a song to his honor!

“Hallelujah” from Beethoven’s Christ on the Mount of Olives

Today’s Music for Easter selection, performed by the Chancel Choir of the Broadway Baptist Church in Louisville, KY, is the magnificent concluding “Hallelujah” from Beethoven’s Christ on the Mount of Olives. As the title suggests, the work as a whole is a musical dramatization of Christ’s agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. While that sounds like a composition more suited for the Triduum or Lent, we tend not to associate the word “hallelujah” with those penitential seasons. In Christ on the Mount of Olives it signifies the climactic moment when Christ says “Not my will, but ours, be done” (Luke 22:42), committing himself to the passion and death that will lead to the triumph of Easter. This is the part of the composition that points to the Resurrection.

Christ on the Mount of Olives is Beethoven’s only oratorio. The composer himself never really liked it, and was particularly dissatified witht the libretto by Franz Xaver Huber. Posterity seems to have agreed with Beethoven, for the most part: the oratorio itself is rarely performed, except for the majestice “Hallelujah” passage. On the other hand, Christ on the Mount of Olives was Beethoven’s first popular success in the United States when it premiered here in 1809.

The featured image above is “Christ on the Mount of Olives” (1819) by Goya. An interesting connection between Goya and Beethoven: both went deaf later in life.

March 27, 2016,
Easter Sunday Chancel Choir,
Glenna Metcalfe, Organ;
Jim Rago, Timpani;
Trey Sims and Martin Sauer, Trumpets,
Robert Gammon, Director

We Are More Than What We Do: St. Joseph the Worker

They say that necessity is the mother of invention but, as today’s feast of St. Joseph the Worker shows us, sometimes measures taken for practical purposes can point to deeper truths.

Pope Pius XII

   The memorial of St. Joseph the Worker is a very recent addition to the liturgical calendar. Pope Pius XII, who wanted to present a Catholic alternative to the Communist celebration of May Day, instituted this feast day in 1955.  Who better to counter the self-proclaimed “vanguard of the workers” than a great Saint who was also a laborer, a man known for his patience and perseverance, but also his piety?  As such, St. Joseph is also the ideal embodiment of the Dignity of Work.  He shows us that work is not simply something we do to survive, or that connects us to a certain economic class, but is an essential part of our humanity, a way in which we act, at least in a small way, as co-creators with God (see St. John Paul II’s Laborem Exercens).
     At the same time, we can see that while a worker may be honored for his work, he is not defined by it.  Here the Catholic view stands in sharp contrast to the outlook of Marxism, where a working person’s primary identification is with his class, and he finds meaning by working toward the “workers’ paradise” of a fully communist society. Since the realization of the workers’ aspirations is the Greatest Good in this worldview, those who are seen as obstacles (such as members of the Capitalist Class) deserve to be extirpated.  Western market-driven societies have their own false anthropology in the phenomenon of the workaholic, whose whole life centers on his career, and who sees no meaning beyond it.  

“St. Joseph, Carpenter” by Georges de La Tour (1642)

     As Christians, however, we see our primary identification as adopted sons and daughters of God: equal in dignity (regardless of externals such as class, sex, race, etc.), called to love, and all of us members of the One Body of Christ who are made in the image and likeness of God the Creator. What we do is an expression of what we already are, particularly when, as Christians, we dedicate our work to the Greater Glory of God: Ad Maiorem Dei Gratiam, as St. Ignatius Loyola put it.
     Now look at St. Joseph.  There have probably been carpenters more skillful than Joseph, or more productive, but none of them have feast days. We honor him today in his role of Worker, but that’s not why he is a Saint.  He’s a Saint, and a great Saint, because he cooperated in God’s great work of salvation.  Today’s feast reminds us that we can all aspire to sanctity, even humble laborers, and that whoever we are, and whatever we do in this world, what we do for the Kingdom of God and who we are in the eyes of the Father is what matters in the end.

Music for the Easter Season: Regina Caeli, by Gregor Aichinger

The Regina Caeli (“Queen of Heaven”) is a prayer that is closely associated with Easter. We usually recite this prayer instead of the Angelus during the Easter Season, at which time it also serves as the the Marian Antiphon at the end of Compline (Night Prayer). The beautiful musical setting for the Regina Caeli below was composed by Gregor Aichinger (1565-1628), and is performed here by the Zürcher Sing-Akademie.

The prayer Regina Caeli itself is of ancient origin.  Our oldest record of it comes from the twelfth century, but the website ourcatholicprayers.com tells us:

According to The Golden Legend, a famous 13th century work about the saints, Pope St. Gregory the Great heard angels singing the first three verses from the Regina Caeli during a procession in the 6th century and was inspired to add the fourth line “Ora pro nobis deum” (“pray for to us to God” in Latin). Although this story is itself considered to be a legend, it is, as Father Herbert Thurston once put it in his book Familiar Prayers, “inseparably associated with the Regina Caeli.”

I have posted the prayer in both English and Latin below (the clip itself has subtitles in Latin and German).

“Coronation of the Virgin Mary” by Diego Velasquez (c. 1636)

Catching Flies With Honey: St. Mellitus of Canterbury

There’s an old saying that you catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than you do with a vat of vinegar. That old saw is well illustrated when considering the life of a Saint whom we remember this weekend, St. Mellitus of Canterbury (died April 24th, A.D. 624).  His name, in fact, means “honeyed”.  In his mission to convert the Saxon conquerers of Britain in the 7th century (he was sent by Pope Gregory the Great to assist St. Augustine of Canterbury) we find an example of the Church explicitly choosing to put the “Honey Strategy” into practice.

St. Mellitus of Canterbury

    But first, we need a little background on Saint Mellitus.  Despite being little-known today, he was in fact a very consequential saint. Mellitus first arrived in Britain in the year A.D. 601, bringing with him books and other things considered necessary for Christian instruction and worship.  St. Augustine of Canterbury (the Apostle to the English, not to be confused with Doctor of the Church St. Augustine of Hippo) consecrated him Bishop of London, which at that time was the capital of the East Saxon kingdom.  Somewhere around the years 616-618 the Christian East Saxon king died, after which the new king drove Mellitus from his episcopal see in London.  Shortly thereafter the Christian king of Kent died as well, and Mellitus was forced to flee from Britain all together. He was able to return a few years later after Laurence, Augustine’s successor as Archbishop of Canterbury, had converted the new Kentish king.  Mellitus never returned to London, which would not see a Bishop again until 654, thirty years after the Saint’s death.  St. Mellitus himself became Archbishop of Canterbury at the Death of Laurence in 619, and occupied the see until his own passing five years later.  He is credited with miraculously saving his church from a fire shortly before his death.

     St. Mellitus played an important part in the conversion of the English ; in this capacity he received instructions in the form of a letter from the Pope, called the Epistola ad Mellitum. In this letter St. Gregory urges Mellitus and Augustine to rely on persuasion in converting the pagan English, destroying idols but consecrating the temples that housed the idols for use as churches, and adopting familiar things to Christian uses so that the English nation might “set aside error from her heart, and, acknowledging and adoring the True God, might assemble more familiarly at the places which she was was accustomed (to use).”  This letter is a particularly explicit statement of an approach that has been more or less the rule (albeit with some notable exceptions) for most of the history of the Church.  And it fits well with the way our Lord works: God breathed life into the mud of the earth to create Adam, and through baptism he makes former non-believers into his adopted sons and daughters; why can’t his Church in the same way “baptize” what is good in pagan societies and consecrate it for use in His service?

St. Mellitus wasn’t successful at first (expelled not just by one but by two kings, from two kingdoms), but in the end love and persistence paid off.


     The story of St. Mellitus and his “honeyed” approach has a lesson for us today as we go about our own mission of evangelization.  We can become frustrated when it seems that nobody is listening; we may find ourselves brimming over with vinegar, as it were.  Perhaps if we stay calm, listen patiently, and try to focus on the love of Jesus (in other words, spread a little honey), we’re more likely to have a fruitful exchange. Notice that St. Mellitus wasn’t successful at first (expelled not just by one but by two kings, from two kingdoms), but in the end love and persistence paid off.  St. Mellitus, pray for us, that we might avoid the bitterness of our own pride, and to speak with the sweetness of Divine Love. Amen.

Palestrina: Exultate Deo (Sacred Music for Easter)

One of my goals with this blog is to promote the incredibly rich store of Catholic art, including sacred music, that we have inherited from our forerunners in the Faith.  Regarding sacred music, a few years back when I was teaching in a (more or less) Catholic school I was talking to one of the music teachers about the music of polyphonic composers, and specifically the compositions of Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina.  The music teacher, who was not Catholic, said “That’s the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.  It’s a shame they had to do away with it.  I mean, I understand why they had to do it, but what a shame . . .”  I was thinking no, no they didn’t have to do away with it at all.  There are few experiences this side of listening to the choirs of the angels themselves closer to heaven than hearing a trained choir singing sacred polyphony in church. Just imagine if more of us could experience that more often.

Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina

     Polyphony itself (from Greek poly, “many”, and phonos, “sound”), refers to a musical development of the late Middle Ages and Renaissance.  Traditional Gregorian Chant had always contained one melodic line: harmony was unknown. Early in the second millennium of the Church composers started writing music containing different melodic lines in the same piece, hence polyphony. While music has grown in technique and complexity since then, even the greatest composers of past 500 years haven’t been able to surpass the sheer musical loveliness of the works of polyphonic composers such as Victoria, Tallis, Byrd, and Palestrina.

     Many commentators consider Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (1525-1594) to be the greatest composer of polyphony.  No less a musical authority than Felix Mendelssohn classed him as one of the four all-time great composers of music, period, with Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven.  The clip below features Palestrina’s Exultate Deo, “Rejoice in God”, a song of praise appropriate to the Easter Season.  The piece is performed by the Ascension Voices Chorus, and the image is a detail of the Singing Angels from Jan van Eyck’s “Ghent Altarpiece.”

     I’ve included the words in Latin and in English under the clip.

Exsultate Deo adjutori nostro;
jubilate Deo Jacob.
Sumite psalmum, et date tympanum,

psalterium jucundum cum cithara.
Buccinate in neomenia tuba,
in insigni die solemnitatis vestræ.

Exult in God our helper, Rejoice in the God of Jacob. Take up the psalm, and bring out the tympanum,

The pleasing psalter with the cithara. Blow the trumpet at the new moon, On the day appointed for our solemnity.

God’s Existence isn’t a Dark Matter

Once upon a time I taught in a (more or less) Catholic high school.  Occasionally I was called upon to teach religion to the bright-eyed young men and women of the 9th grade. At the time the so-called “New Atheists” (Dawkins, Hitchens, Dennett, etc.) were in vogue, and so class usually contained two or three students eager to try out the  latest anti-Christian tropes that they had picked up online or wherever it is that aspiring atheist proselytizers hang out.  Needless to say, we had many a lively discussion. A number of these discussions became blog posts.

     In the course of these conversations I became aware just how much our educational system and our cultural institutions have become imbued with an unspoken materialist  orientation. Virtually all my students, even professed Christians, seemed to take it for granted that a transcendent God who cannot be measured or detected with scientific instruments could not be shown to exist.

     I realized that I would need to help them expand their understanding of how we acquire reliable knowledge beyond the things that science can measure.  My first step, however, was to demonstrate that even science has much more subtle ways of understanding reality than they had been led to believe.  In the post below I enlist NASA and modern cosmology to show that belief in God is at least as reasonable as many “scientific” concepts that are accepted almost without question.  

     We begin with the proposition that cosmological science offers a good illustration of some ways in which we apply reason to our world and experience.  You may occasionally hear in the news, for instance, reports of planets discovered in other solar systems.  We do not now have any instruments capable of “seeing” the planet itself; instead, we detect it by observing its effects on other things, such as the miniscule wobble its gravitational pull causes in the star it orbits, or the very slight changes in the light we observe from the star as the planet passes in front of it (read more here).  

Nasa graphic of the Big Bang theory from “Dark Energy, Dark Matter”

   On an even grander scale, consider the question of “Dark Matter” and “Dark Energy.” Over the past century, scientists have formulated what is known as the Big Bang Theory to account for the fact that the entire universe appears to be expanding at a consistent rate.  At the same time, they have calculated that in order for the universe to do what it seems to be doing, it needs to contain much more matter and energy than we can detect – many times more.  As the NASA publication “Dark Energy, Dark Matter” explains (my italics):

More is unknown than is known. We know how much dark energy there is because we know how it affects the Universe’s expansion. Other than that, it is a complete mystery. But it is an important mystery. It turns out that roughly 68% of the Universe is dark energy. Dark matter makes up about 27%. The rest – everything on Earth, everything ever observed with all of our instruments, all normal matter – adds up to less than 5% of the Universe. Come to think of it, maybe it shouldn’t be called “normal” matter at all, since it is such a small fraction of the Universe. (full publication here)

Notice that physicists say that more than 95% of the matter and energy in the universe is completely undetectable, and we may never be able to detect it.  There is no direct evidence of the existence of Dark Energy and Dark Matter, and yet they are sure it is there, only because of the effects we observe on other things.
    Much of the evidence for God’s involvement in our world is of a similar sort, at least for those who have not themselves had a direct experience of God.  Like Dark Energy, God cannot be measured with scientific instruments, but his effects are very clear.  Consider the case of Bernard Nathanson, an atheist doctor from a Jewish family who was one of the founders of the National Abortion Rights Action League (NARAL).  Nathanson himself performed or presided over tens of thousands of abortions until he was convinced by ultrasound images of the humanity of the unborn.  

Deeply disturbed by his involvement in the taking of so many innocent lives, Nathanson, still an atheist, became active in pro-life activities, where he encountered many committed Christians.  He noticed something different about his religious friends, which he eventually recognized as what St. Paul called “The Gifts of the Holy Spirit”: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23).  It was clear to him that the difference he saw was due to the religious dimension of their lives, the visible effects of their relationship with God.  He eventually converted from atheism to Catholicism.


Merging Galaxy Cluster Abell 520 from “Dark Energy, Dark Matter

     Literally millions of people have come to Faith in the same way over the last two thousand years.  Like Nathanson, they were first attracted by the effects they saw in others, and after embracing Christ, found the same changes in their own lives.  They very reasonably based their faith on the real results they saw in others, and that they experienced themselves.

     That, by the way, is a significant way in which belief in God is different from a belief in Dark Energy or Dark Matter.  Nobody has ever had a personal encounter with Dark Energy, or seen a miracle performed by Dark Matter; countless people throughout the ages have had direct experiences of God, or witnessed His miracles, which continue up to the present day.  One might say that, when we examine the evidence of the world around us, belief in God is actually quite reasonable.

(Feature image above: “Ancient of Days” by William Blake, from Europe a Prophecy, 1794)

St. Philemon the Actor: Martyr and Anti-Hypocrite

   Every day of the year the Liturgical Calendar offers us the stories of a number of inspiring and fascinating saints.  Today, March 8th, the primary saint is St. John of God, a man who led an amazingly varied life: he was, in turn, a shepherd, soldier, servant, laborer, book seller, and the founder of a hospital.  Under the many “identities” he took on over his lifetime, however, there was always the same loving soul who was always ready to sacrifice himself for the good of others.  He died as a result of trying to save a boy from drowning.

     One of the lesser-known of today’s saints, the intriguingly named St. Philemon the Actor, also followed an occupation that might not at first make us think of sanctity.   Philemon lived in Egypt at the beginning of the fourth century and, as his name suggests, he was an actor and performer.  One of his fellow performers was a Christian named Apollonius, who, according to some reports, was also a deacon. During the reign of the Emperor Diocletian, one of the Romans’ favorite methods of flushing out Christians was to force them to sacrifice to the pagan gods, and receive a legal document to that effect; the idea was either to force followers of Christ into apostasy, or to compel them to reveal themselves to the authorities who could then put them to death.  Apollonius seems to have lost his nerve when put to this test, and asked Philemon to obtain a certificate saying that both of them had sacrificed to the pagan gods.  Philemon instead professed his Christian faith and was executed.  Apollonius, shamed by his friend’s bold faith, also accepted the death of a martyr, and became known as St. Apollonius.

Actor’s masks, from a mosaic in the villa of the Roman Emperor Hadrian

     St. Philemon’s story has some uniquely ironic twists.  Apollonius expected the actor to put on a show on his behalf, but Philemon took off his mask when what was needed was the truth.  Also, our word “hypocrite” comes from the Greek word ὑποκριτής, which means “actor”.  It was because Philemon refused to play the actor that he revealed to Apollonius his own hypocrisy, and so saved both his own soul and that of his friend; as Jesus says, “the Truth will set you free” (John 8:32). St. Philemon has something to teach us as well, if we see in his story a reminder that we won’t be saved in the end by relying on our own talents or cleverness, but by putting our hope in Christ.