The Burden of Proof

A common misconception among apologists is that those who speak against religion are every bit as "fundamentalist" as most religious extremists. I can understand that. There is a crucial difference, though. The hallmark of every religion, especially fundamentalist ones, is the arrogant certainty of their version of "the truth" even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Atheists, however, shape their view of the universe with evidence. For example, it's highly doubtful that an atheist would say, "I will never believe in God. Nothing you can show me will change my mind." Because most of us know that, if given enough evidence, we would change our minds.

That's the issue. Evidence. Rationality. Proof.

My transition into atheism has gone well, I think. Except I have yet to come out to my parents, and I still have no idea how and when I'm going to do it. And when I do, that's going to be the stumbling block. Proof. My father would argue that God doesn't need to be proven. Or that God can't be proven. God is an infinite god and his ways are much higher than ours, and there's no way we can ever hope to understand him. The mother of all cop-outs, as Dawkins calls it. It's merely an excuse to substitute the God Hypothesis into anything we can't yet explain.

And the Bible? Let's just say, if the universe were the product of some creator, the likelihood that said creator would give a damn about the affairs of man is a major stretch in itself. But that his "word" would be passed onto primitive human beings thousands of years before they even understood germ theory or simple cosmology? Talk about a leap of faith. The more I think about it (and the more bible I read), the harder it is to swallow.

And then, at some point, my parents will pull out Pascal's Wager.

If you're right, and there's no god, nothing will happen when you die. But if you're wrong, and there is a god, you'll have a grim fate awaiting you when you die. Is it worth the risk? What if, when you die, you find yourself face to face with God and he asks you "What happened, son? Why didn't you believe in me?" What are you going to say to him?

As Bertrand Russell put it, I'd have to turn and ask him, "Well, God... why did you take such pains to hide yourself?"