Good Reason

It's okay to be wrong. It's not okay to stay wrong.

Category: religion (page 30 of 36)

Why is disbelief threatening?

I shouldn’t be amazed at the overheated rhetoric going on, but I sometimes am.

Data point 1: An outrageous outburst from Illinois state legislator Monique Davis. Apparently the governor had been shoveling money to a Baptist church, and when atheist and legal gadfly Rob Sherman took up the matter, her response was (click through for audio):

Davis: What you have to spew and spread is extremely dangerous, it’s dangerous–

Sherman: What’s dangerous, ma’am?

Davis: It’s dangerous to the progression of this state. And it’s dangerous for our children to even know that your philosophy exists! Now you will go to court to fight kids to have the opportunity to be quiet for a minute. But damn if you’ll go to [court] to fight for them to keep guns out of their hands. I am fed up! Get out of that seat!

Sherman: Thank you for sharing your perspective with me, and I’m sure that if this matter does go to court—

Davis: You have no right to be here! We believe in something. You believe in destroying! You believe in destroying what this state was built upon.

Summary: Atheists have no right to be here, and are dangerous and destructive. Even the knowledge that atheism exists is harmful to children.

Data point 2: Dawkins’ website shows a new book, a bit of pushback to the New Atheism: The Delusion of Disbelief: Why the New Atheism is a Threat to Your Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of Happiness

Unpack that title: People who don’t believe in god not only threaten your life and your liberty, but also, somehow, America.

I could go on.

Why are atheists so threatening?

I like the House of Cards theory: Religious faith has no factual basis. Believers secretly suspect this, and aren’t pleased when people point it out. Remember that Monty Python sketch about El Mystico, who would put up blocks of flats by hypnosis? It’s like that; belief holds the edifice up; disbelief makes it collapse.

Another answer has to do with magical thinking: I used to hear people in church express the view that the righteous are somehow protecting the wicked just by being scattered within the population. It’s like the story of Abraham in Sodom: if only he’d been able to find a few good people, the city would have been magically saved. Conversely, atheists within a population can magically undermine it by emanating powerful waves of anti-God energy, capable of destroying countries and institutions.

But I think the most accurate view is the Meme War. Maybe believers are actually right. Atheists are dangerous — to belief systems, not to people. Admittedly, this is a distinction that True Believers have trouble making. When you’re so heavily invested in your belief system that you mistake it for your whole life, then it’s easy to think that a threat to the belief system equals a threat to your life.

What this tells me (yet again) is that religion, if taken seriously, has an unhealthy ability to engulf your entire life. It can encompass your family, your community, and your entire way of living, to the detriment of your ability to see clearly. Certainly true for ‘high-commitment’ religions.

Last year, at the start of the ‘New Atheist’ insurgence, I wondered, “When are we going to see some pushback?” Well, here it is. Unfortunately, instead of bringing good arguments, the believers are making even less sense than usual. Which makes me wonder: is it superstitious for atheists to claim that religious people are threatening?

Fitna

The film ‘Fitna’ is a really nasty and biased piece of inflammatory, manipulative garbage made by a right-wing anti-immigration asshole.

I’ve decided to link to it here for three reasons.

1. LiveLeak took it down temporarily because of death threats. Fuck that. Fuck anyone using threats and intimidation to control what we see and hear.

2. The people featured in the film really did say the things they said, and it’s reasonable to expose them to the light.

3. I’m aware that there are nice moderate Muslims, just like there are nice moderate Christians and nice moderate Jews. I’m also aware that there are scriptures in the Quran (Bible, etc.) that urge peace and shun violence. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. How peaceful a religion is depends on who’s running it at the time. Even if a religion is currently completely nice, there will always be some ‘bad scriptures’ lurking in there, waiting for some weirdo to interpret in their own violent way. It’s only a matter of time. Tick tick tick.

And when enough people believe their interpretation, they’ll take planes into buildings, and kill people for not believing. They’ll even murder their own children because of the extremist view. And there’s no way to reason them out of it — the delusion is fixed.

This is why moderate religionists are just as responsible for extremism as the extremists. The problem is god-belief. If people believe that a supernatural being exists, and wants them to do certain things, then their belief can be co-opted by anyone convincing. If not now, then when the climate changes. The line is not between the moderate and the extremist. It’s between the rationalist and the supernaturalist.

Official Mormon doctrine

‘Anonymous’, who’s done such great work on the Scientologists lately, made a comment in the last thread on bones from other planets:

Strange that he felt a need to defend an idea that, as far as I remember, is not part of official mormon doctrine.

Ah, yes, OMD.

But why isn’t it official? How many Latter-day Saints (and what kinds) need to believe it before it becomes official? Is there a list? Determining official Mormon doctrine is harder than it ought to be.

Usually religions make statements that can’t really be confirmed or disconfirmed by empirical evidence, like ‘God exists’ or ‘After you die, you continue to live on as a spirit’. But occasionally a religion will make a claim that can be tested and disconfirmed. For example, physical evidence indicates that the earth came together right where it is, instead of being smooshed together. People with dark skin who join the Church do not become whiter, contre the Book of Mormon and General Conference.

What’s a true believer to do? Easy. Just say that the claim was never ‘true church doctrine’ in the first place. This is possible because of the LDS concept of ‘continuing revelation’: that later statements by church leaders trump older ones. So old doctrines can be dropped without much trouble; they’ve been superceded by new knowledge. This is why people in the know no longer teach that the whole of North and South America was populated by Hebrews, and they now say that the entire Book of Mormon narrative took place within a few square blocks in Guatemala.

‘Official Church Doctrine’ (which I’ll hereafter call ‘OCD’) is a slippery notion. There’s an incredibly high bar for a doctrine to be considered ‘official’, and even statements that meet the criteria for OCD can be disavowed if the belief becomes problematic.

An idea can be taught by Joseph Smith or Brigham Young, spoken from the pulpit of General Conference, written in Church publications, be widely believed by the membership and still be disqualified from OCD status if the need arises.

So what is OCD? The Doctrine and Covenants says that anything that missionaries say when they are “moved upon by the Holy Ghost” is scripture. Since there’s no way to tell when someone’s been ‘moved upon’ in this way, we need another definition.

Here’s a page that addresses this question:

Virtually every religion has procedures for distinguishing the individual beliefs of its members from the official doctrines of the church, and so do the Latter-day Saints. In fact among the Mormons the procedure is remarkably similar to that of many Protestant denominations. An example of the procedure can be taken from the records of the Fiftieth Semiannual General Conference of the LDS church, 10 October 1880, when President George Q. Cannon addressed the conference:

I hold in my hand the Book of Doctrine and Covenants, and also the book, The Pearl of Great Price, which books contain revelations of God. In Kirtland, the Doctrine and Covenants in its original form, as first printed, was submitted to the officers of the Church and the members of the Church to vote upon. As there have been additions made to it by the publishing of revelations which were not contained in the original edition, it has been deemed wise to submit these books with their contents to the conference, to see whether the conference will vote to accept the books and their contents as from God, and binding upon us as a people and as a Church.

Subsequent changes of content in the standard works of the Church have been presented similarly to the membership in general conference to receive a sustaining vote. It is that sustaining vote, by the individual members or by their representatives, that makes the changes officially binding upon the membership as the doctrine of the Church.

In other words, OCD is anything that is

a) in the Standard Works, and
b) sustained by the membership.

In fact, this definition of OCD is a bit of a furphy. There are wide swaths of doctrine that Latter-day Saints believe to be true that aren’t in the Standard Works, including ‘bones from other worlds’, policies on illegal drugs, almost everything concerning temple work, and lots of ideas about the spirit world. There are also some ideas that are in the Standard Works, but that Mormons don’t really practice, like Jesus’ views on divorce, and meat in the Word of Wisdom.

This is not a bad thing — it’s completely normal, as religions go — but it does mean that Mormon doctrine can metamorphose to protect itself. It makes it very hard to disconfirm an official doctrine, which is probably the point.

What I think is happening is something I call ‘revelation by prevailing belief’.

1. Joseph Smith et al. started a lot of ideas during the early fertile part of church history. Some were based on made-up stories in the scriptures, and others they made up themselves (Book of Abraham, King Follett discourse).

2. These ideas go to work within the general membership, and at times compete in the minds of members. It’s those memes again: the ideas are involved in an evolutionary struggle for mindspace, and some ideas will prevail. What gets taught in church and at conference are the beliefs that are winning. For example, the prohibition on R-rated movies was folklore when I was a lad, but in 1986, Benson mentioned it in conference, which was certainly enough to get that idea canonised.

3. If by some chance the belief becomes problematic, the Church’s immune system kicks in. We start to hear some members claim that it’s ‘not church doctrine’ in Sunday School or Elder’s Quorum. This retroactive expungement will take a while to propagate through the community, just as the original doctrine did. It’s hard to expel an entrenched doctrine though. It takes about 40 years, if ideas about Blacks and the pre-mortal life are any indication.

The difference, then, between true Mormon doctrine and Mormon folklore is that True Mormon doctrine is doctrine that is considered to be true by most Mormons at any given time. It’s not pronouncements from General Conference that gives the official imprimatur — those statements are sometimes disavowed. It’s not being published in the Standard Works — Latter-day Saints can ignore scriptures that don’t coincide with prevailing belief. It’s whether Mormons believe it enough not to challenge it in church.

This is why we see Mormon doctrine change subtly from generation to generation as unpalatable or scientifically bogus ideas are dropped. It’s not just a Mormon thing; it happens in lots of religions these days (I’m thinking Vatican II). It’s people making things up, and then adapting their beliefs when needed.

Personally, I don’t mind if Mormon doctrine changes. There are quite a few beliefs that need to go. And even the scientific method allows for change. The difference is that when scientific ideas change, it’s because new evidence (in the form of empirical observation) renders an old theory untenable. But when old Mormon beliefs get discarded, it’s based on no evidence at all, or because Mormon doctrine needs to flee from scientific advancement.

However, as scientific knowledge expands and the God of the Gaps shrinks, I think there may come a time when overwhelming evidence may come head-to-head against a core Mormon belief, such that members won’t be able to ignore it without disavowing the scientific method entirely. That will be interesting.

Missionary chat: Paleontology

Every once in a while, the LDS missionaries find me, and every time it’s a revelation. The contents of a missionary’s mind are basically everything they remember from church, plus anything that gets them out of a scrape with some competing doctrine. Which means that I hear them saying mostly the same crap I used to say when I was a missionary. Not verbatim; the doctrine has evolved since I wore the badge. Think of it as Mormonism’s Greatest Hits, but with bonus remixes. And so it was this Sunday.

The opening move was mine: I explained that I was an RM and now a vocal atheist. I think this threw them off a bit; they were expecting to visit a member.

They responded with the crafty “Look Outside” defense. It goes like this: Just look outside. If there’s no god, than how did all those trees and plants get here?

My riposte, of course: Evolution is a very well-supported theory that answers many questions about the complexity of life on earth, and it doesn’t require you to believe that goddidit.

I suppose to the senior companion, ‘evolution’ meant ‘dinosaur bones’, so he decided to impart. “You know that the Lord can make things seem older than they are,” he said. “When he changed water to wine at the wedding in Cana, he was making something that was ‘older’ than water.” I made a mental note that water is just as old as wine, but I let it slide. “In the same way,” he continued, “he can make dinosaur bones that seem older than they are.”

I promise you I never would have said anything like that.

“Why on earth would he bother to implant fake dinosaur bones just to fool us?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“Well,” mused the elder, “when God made the world, he made it out of other planets. Some of those planets had the bones of animals already embedded in them, and those are our dinosaur bones.”

The Stupid was strong in the room that day. I hardly knew where to start. Explain about the from earth forming, not from being smooshed together, but by a coalescing cloud of matter pulled together by gravity? Point out the absurdity of layers of fossils being preserved in chronological order despite the smoosh? Ask what orifice he pulled that answer from? Demand evidence for the claim?

The cognitive overload was too much. All my tools of scientific sophistry were helpless. I was paralysed before the sheer magnitude of Stupid presented to me. Well played, elder. Well played.

Do your worst

This is great: a rationalist challenges a magician to kill him with magic.

Of course, magic failed.

On 3 March 2008, in a popular TV show, Sanal Edamaruku, the president of Rationalist International, challenged India’s most “powerful” tantrik (black magician) to demonstrate his powers on him. That was the beginning of an unprecedented experiment. After all his chanting of mantra (magic words) and ceremonies of tantra failed, the tantrik decided to kill Sanal Edamaruku with the “ultimate destruction ceremony” on live TV. Sanal Edamaruku agreed and sat in the altar of the black magic ritual. India TV observed skyrocketing viewership rates.

India TV, one of India’s major Hindi channels with national outreach, invited Sanal Edamaruku for a discussion on “Tantrik power versus Science”. Pandit Surinder Sharma, who claims to be the tantrik of top politicians and is well known from his TV shows, represented the other side. During the discussion, the tantrik showed a small human shape of wheat flour dough, laid a thread around it like a noose and tightened it. He claimed that he was able to kill any person he wanted within three minutes by using black magic. Sanal challenged him to try and kill him.

The tantrik tried. He chanted his mantras (magic words): “Om lingalingalinalinga, kilikili….” But his efforts did not show any impact on Sanal – not after three minutes, and not after five. The time was extended and extended again. The original discussion program should have ended here, but the “breaking news” of the ongoing great tantra challenge was overrunning all program schedules.

After nearly two hours, the anchor declared the tantrik’s failure. The tantrik, unwilling to admit defeat, tried the excuse that a very strong god whom Sanal might be worshipping obviously protected him. “No, I am an atheist,” said Sanal Edamaruku.

I gotta hand it to the tantrik. He really thought he was the real deal, accepted a challenge, and was Unambiguously Disconfirmed.

Maybe he could take a few cues from Christians. They do a lot of spinning when their claims are disconfirmed. Pick any of the following:

  • He’ll die… eventually! It may take 70 years, but the magic will work.
  • The important thing is not whether I managed to kill someone or not, the important thing is that we learn to accept Gods’ will and build our faith in them.
  • Sometimes Kali says ‘no’.

Ethnicity v. religion

Islam is my least favourite religion. Has been, even before 9/11. It’s a very problematic religion; it hasn’t gotten a grip on its most extreme elements, it does the most harm to its believers (physically and mentally), and its adherents are, in general, the least tolerant of any religion I know. Its size and influence only serve to magnify the difficulty.

But I always felt uncomfortable about Islam-bashing, not because it was disrespectful of others’ beliefs (they have to be true to earn my respect). The discomfort was this: take a walk around the seedier right-wing hate sites like Redstate or Malkin, and you’ll see Islam-bashing in spades. So if I’m saying something against Islam, what’s the difference between the right-wing haterz and me? Might I not be mistaken for the racists I despise? Even good ol’ Christopher Hitchens, when he gets going on the danger of Islam, seems to blend in with the racists on the right. And it’s taken him to some horrifying conclusions: the invasion of Iraq, and some saber-rattling on Iran. Even Ayaan Hirsi Ali, whose anti-Islam cred is impeccable, isn’t usually mentioned with Dawkins or Harris, and I think it’s because the Left feels uncomfortable with her since she sits so comfortably with the anti-immigration nutbars in the Dutch right-wing. And so my criticism of Islam, if I were inclined to make any, has been muted.

Only recently have I been able to see a crucial distinction that would resolve this conflict. It’s the difference between religion and ethnicity. I’ll oppose the religion of Islam — by means of reason, science, and education — because it teaches absurdities, and it’s dangerous. I’ll oppose every other religion on earth for the same reason. I’m an equal opportunity opposer. But when it comes to Arabs, Indonesians, Africans, or any other ethnicity, I have nothing to say.

When I was a kid, there were lots of Iranian uni students in my hometown. This was at the height of the Iranian hostage crisis in 1979. Listening to the Charlie Daniels Band on AM radio does something to a kid, and some of those Iranians seemed pretty scary. Scarier than normal uni students, which is pretty scary anyway. Fortunately, I had a wise father who took me to some cultural events on campus and got me to meet the students. (He liked the lamb.) I came to realise that even though Iran had just gone crazy, there was a segment of Iran that was secular and moderate, and who hated the new government. Understanding the difference between religion and ethnicity could have helped me a bit.

In connection with this, I’d also like to echo the sentiments of Dave at exchristian.net, who feels that while opposing religion is fair game, being horrible to actual people sucks. I now feel embarrassed when I think about the believer I used to be. Some are okay people, I was not. I knew the truth, dontcha know, and Jesus was my homeboy. I was good at getting around objections to the one true faith, and I must have been an intolerable pain. Fortunately I reformed and learned to question my received wisdom without fearing the wrath of hypothetical beings. Maybe someone in a religion now might be a future unbeliever. No need to be horrible to my future friend. I’ll point out bad reasoning, but I hope I’ll spare the messenger. Just in case I can learn something from them.

Obama and religion

American secularists. Try bringing up god in relation to politics, and watch them bristle. And for good reason, too — did you see what the Christians did to the place once they got in power? We’ll never get our bond back.

Expect a nuclear allergic reaction from reading them this passage (and others) from Barack Obama:

And during the course of that sermon, I was introduced to someone named Jesus Christ. I learned that my sins could be redeemed and that if I placed my trust in Christ, He could set me on the path to eternal life.

Ideally, a rational thinker would be in the White House. Someone who knows how to think critically, and who knows the difference between evidence and not-evidence. (Which disqualifies Grandpa McCain.) But until that day, we’re stuck with either a politician who panders to religion, or (worse) a politician who actually believes it. Obama comes uncomfortably close to the latter.

But maybe we’re not all sunk. Consider the situation we faced over here in Australia with Kevin Rudd, leader of the center-left ALP. From the outset, he made it clear that not only was he a believer, but that he didn’t intend to abandon faith to the Right, and that his religious beliefs were going to inform his politics.

At the time, I found this inappropriate. Australia’s secular! Couldn’t we just let the right-wing have religion, and then the grown-ups can get on with the work? But of course, I voted Labor. (Well, Secular, with preferences to Labor.) And lo and behold, Labor did turf out the Liberals, and there was much rejoicing.

And then what did Rudd do when he got into office? He ratified Kyoto, he apologised to the Stolen Generation of Aboriginal Australians, and he introduced legislation to dismantle Workplace Agreements (which allow employers to pay you less than scale if you ‘agree’). He sent Navy ships to monitor Japanese whalers, for Pete’s sake! And that’s just the first 100 days. Not a bad start.

Everyone picks and chooses out of scripture. As a credit to his character, Rudd picked and chose parts of the Bible that happened to correspond to not being a moralistic cretin. The Religious Right loves Deuteronomy because that reflects what they like — especially hating on gays. Rudd’s more of a Sermon on the Mount kind of guy.

But if our starting point in this debate is supposed to be Christianity (and therefore a Christian view of morality), then my challenge to the Coalition is as follows: isn’t our preparedness to feed the hungry and give shelter to the homeless a moral value; isn’t our preparedness to respond humanely to those who seek refuge in this country from political oppression elsewhere a moral value; and is not our response to the 1.5 billion people around the world in abject poverty also a question of moral values?

Obama’s not as gung-ho on the separation of church and state as a Democrat ought to be (a bit like Rudd), but he does agree that faith has been hijacked (as does Rudd). He has reached out to non-believers. His rhetoric seems more inspirational than doctrinal. I think (or perhaps just hope) that Obama might be more a Rudd-style Christian, and less a Huckabee-style one.

I can live with that, at least until the coming Glorious Age of Rationalism bursts upon us.

He doesn’t believe it — he just sells it.

A story in the NYT about a church in New Mexico. There’s a hole in the floor, and the dirt therefrom is claimed to have healing properties.

[T]ens of thousands of pilgrims walk eight miles or more to the shrine on Good Friday, some bearing heavy crosses and others approaching on their knees. Scores of people visit every day the rest of the year, many hoping to cure diseases or disabilities with prayer, holy water and, most famously, the healing dirt, which visitors collect from a hole in the floor inside the church.

Visitors bring their own baggies or containers or can buy little plastic containers marked “blessed dirt” at the church’s gift shop.

Few leave without some of the reddish soil, scooped from the 18-inch-wide “posito,” or well, that is continually replenished — by a caretaker, Father Roca is quick to explain, despite rumors over the years that the pit was refilled by divine intervention.

He pointed to the small building nearby where trucked-in dirt is stored. “I even have to buy clean dirt!” he complained.

Some people take dirt away for divine luck, while those with ailments may eat it, brew it in tea or rub it on the afflicted body area.

Father Roca believes in miracles, too, but, he said, “They are the work of the Good Lord.”

I always tell people that I have no faith in the dirt, I have faith in the Lord,” he said. “But people can believe what they want.”

You know, for someone who doesn’t really believe in the dirt, he sure shovels a lot of it. But hey, why not? It brings in the customers, and the rubes can believe whatever they want. Including, apparently, that eating dirt will heal you.

If Father Roca seems like a good guy in this story, it may be because he’s not trying to fleece people with a phony dirt-replenishment miracle — he’s honest about where the dirt comes from. But if Father Roca’s up-front about the little things, he’s dead wrong about the big things. Not only is the dirt of no effect, neither is the faith. But the believing gather up the dirt anyway, despite the feeble protests of the smarter believers.

This symbolises something that’s been bugging me about liberal believers. Lots of smart people claim to believe the Bible (or choose your favourite holy book), but they argue that some of it is intended to be understood metaphorically. (Which parts? The parts that have already been falsified.) They may not even believe much of it at all. Sort of like our dirt-shoveling man — it’s not the details, it’s the big picture.

Some of these Liberal Metaphoricists choose to paper over their disbelief and participate in church anyway. Maybe they like the ‘community’ of it all, or maybe it’s habit — could be the music, who knows. In doing so, they not only dodge the difficulty of dealing with their cognitive dissonance, but they also support organisations that teach ideas they suspect to be false, to the detriment of the most faithful among their congregation. People can believe what they want, right? Everybody’s got to believe in something.

That’s the way it goes. You’re either shoveling out the dirt to the faithful, or else you’re eating it. But it’s dirt all the same. Best to sort it out and get clean.

Let the bodies hit the floor

Christian showman Benny Hinn seems to be famous mainly for making people fall over. Put it to a Drowning Pool song, and you get a quite good video, actually.

The boys asked why people were falling over, and I had to remember back to my psychology training. It’s good old participant bias: When there’s an authority figure, people tend to act in ways they think the authority figure will like. And don’t forget communal reinforcement: if the values of the group are confirmed when you roll around on the floor… well, why wouldn’t you roll around on the floor?

Or it could be Gawd.

Religion and divorce

A sad story from the NYT: what happens in custody arrangements when parents get divorced, and then one parent turns into a religious froot-looper?

From the age of 1 month, Mrs. Snider’s daughter had lived with her, and later Mrs. Snider’s new husband, Brian Snider, with occasional visits to her biological father.

But in 2003, when Libby was 6, an Alabama court gave primary custody to her father, William Mashburn, after he and Mrs. Snider’s own family argued that the strict religious upbringing Libby received at her mother’s home, which involved modest dress, teachings about sin and salvation, and limited exposure to popular culture, was damaging her.

The Sniders are quietly, unapologetically fundamentalist. They believe that American culture, even conservative denominations like the Southern Baptist Convention, has drifted perilously far from biblical teachings. They attend a large Independent Baptist church in Madison, where the music, the sanctuary and the congregants are unadorned and old-fashioned.

Women wear skirts as a sign of modesty. They do not swim in mixed company. They eschew rock music and nearly all popular culture. They do not drink, smoke or swear.

The Sniders have raised Libby, now 11, in that tradition. But it has put them at odds with Mr. Mashburn and Mrs. Snider’s family. Mr. Mashburn and his lawyer declined to comment .

Mrs. Snider said she understood that Libby might wear pants at her father’s home or go to the movies. But she insisted that Mr. Mashburn not swear or drink in front of Libby or expose her to inappropriate movies and music, which, she said, he has repeatedly done.

I would say that this situation (like most post-divorce situations) can be worked around by not being a jerk, but this advice doesn’t help when one’s religion more or less requires one to be a jerk.

Even when both parents want what’s best for the child, religion throws everything into disarray because the religious froot-loop parent thinks the child will go to hell unless they obey the arcane rules of the religious system.

Just another way in which the non-negotiable absolutism of religious belief harms children. And how’s this for a heart-breaking conclusion:

At the last hearing, Libby, who spends about 40 percent of her time with the Sniders, testified against Mr. Mashburn.

“I’m more of my mom’s religion, and my dad sometimes talks bad about my mom,” she said. “He called it a cult, and it’s definitely not a cult. It kind of makes me mad sometimes. Maybe he thinks her religion may be bad for me, but I think mainly he doesn’t like my mom and is using that as an excuse.”

Will she ever escape fundamentalism and rebuild a good relationship with her father? Sounds like the spilt is only going to grow. But hey, what’s the problem. Didn’t Jesus say:

Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.

For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law.

And a man’s foes shall be they of his own household.

It’s a feature, not a bug.

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