More Sunday atheism: The Faith of a Heretic, by Walter Kaufmann. There's also an article from Harper's in 1959 (the book came out in 1961).
To an even moderately sophisticated and well-read person it should come as no surprise that any religion at all has its hidden as well as its obvious beauties and is capable of profound and impressive interpretations. What is deeply objectionable about most of these interpretations is that they allow the believer to say Yes while evading any No. The Hebrew prophets represent a notable exception. When interpreting their own religious heritage, they were emphatically not conformists who discovered subtle ways in which they could agree with the religion of their day. Nor was it their point that the cult was justifiable with just a little ingenuity. On the contrary.Let those who like inspiring interpretations be no less forthright in telling us precisely where they stand on ritual and immortality, on the sacraments and Hell, on the Virgin Birth and Resurrection. on the Incarnation and the miracles, and on: "Resist not evil." And: "Let him who would sue you in court for your coat have your cloak, too." And: "No one comes to the Father but through Me."
If you must pour new wine into old skins, you should at least follow one of Jesus' other counsels and let your Yes be Yes, and your No, No.
Yes, before there was a Richard Dawkins, a Christopher Hitchens, or a Daniel Dennett, there was Walter Kaufmann.
The complete, book-length text of The Faith of a Heretic is available online here.
(This is an update of a piece I wrote for Memorial Day a few years back. The original version appeared on May 28, 2002 at the old SoloHQ.com site. A few tweaks for 2008. I couldn't resist.)
I never knew my Uncle Joey -- my mother's uncle, actually. He died years before I was born, and in fact it was only this past week that I learned a little bit about him. That doesn't really matter much, I suppose.
I never met a fellow Marine who recognized the name John Locke. Not one officer, not one enlisted guy. Not once in twelve years of active service.
That certainly doen't matter, either.
But we all regarded life, liberty, and property as values--and everyone I knew recognized "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" as the words of Jefferson. No one I knew was willing to offer himself up as a sacrificial animal--we all wanted to live. But all were willing to fight--and, if necessary, to die--in defense of such values.
Joey was, too.
But values are meaningful only for, and to, the living--and it is only the living who can mark any occasion, properly or improperly. Professional scolds (including most conservatives) tell us that Memorial Day should be more than just another three-day weekend: we should be somber, we're told, in remembrance of American war dead. President Bush, for example, speaks of "honoring the great sacrifices." His father, also a US president, loved the words "sacrifice" and "service." So does presidential candidate John McCain, and, for that matter, my own mother (who did know, as a little girl, her Uncle Joey). Like most conservatives, the president insists that we "must pray for peace." He means well, I suppose, but he misses the point.
They just don't get it.
And in a larger sense, no, I'm not sure they mean well, for what they praise as "sacrifice" is the destruction of all values.
Those who died on America's fields of battle died defending values--they gave their lives, yes, but they sacrificed nothing.
I raised an American flag today (Memorial Day, 2002). But I also took my family to the El Paso Zoo, where we enjoyed the new ocelot exhibit, the Mexican wolves, and the two leopard cubs. My son rode a rollercoaster for the first time. The evening held promise of grilled shrimp and beer. Have I dishonored America's war dead by turning Memorial Day into, as the moralistic harangue goes, "just another three-day weekend?"
Horsefeathers. The Sourpuss Right is right, although not the way they mean it: Memorial Day is not just another three-day weekend. It's a great reason to have one, among the best. It's an assertion that American fighting men do not sacrifice their lives, and that it is a sin against decency itself to suggest that they should.
For life, liberty, property, and the pursuit of happiness--these values cherished by Americans--these values which must be defended, sometimes unto death--these values have meaning only for the living, and they have meaning only on this earth. This earth is where those values are enjoyed. This earth is where those valiant warriors fell, defending them. And this earth--well, this earth, and only this earth, is where their remembrance is made.
And if--as is sadly inevitable--more brave young Americans die in Afghanistan and in Iraq -- we'll remember them, too.
And that does matter.
But: please, a remembrance worthy of them, worthy of their lives on this earth. Ditch the long faces. Note that life goes on, that the sun still warms, that Beethoven still inspires, that laughter is shared, that enemies can be and have been vanquished and leopard cubs have been born and friends made. That rollercoasters still thrill. That life has been lived. That burgers and shrimp have been grilled and beer consumed and gratitude has been offered but no apologies, ever, for any of it.
(Dedicated to the memory of Private First Class Joseph Samodulsky, 253rd Infantry Regiment, 63rd Infantry Division, U.S. Army, who fought in the winter push through the Heasbourg Gap to Germany and fell on March 3, 1945. His final resting place is the Epinal Cemetery in northern France.)
Yeah, kinda reminds me of Our Sunday Visitor, except not quite so, you know... Catholic.
This week, for your post-pagan, post-'piscopal pleasures, I present Richard Dawkins on the BBC's Hardalk:
Happy Birthday, Empire State Building!
I've only been there once, but it's a great sight.