Lewis is one of the most popular and respected theologians of the twentieth century, known as much for his fiction as for his serious apologetic and philosophic works. He claims to have been an atheist in his teens, but converted to Christianity through personal consideration of the Bible, discussions with J. R. R. Tolkien, and reading G. K. Chesterton, among other things. Here’s the passage from Mere Christianity:

I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic–on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg–or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.

The logical fallacy is false dilemma, which is committed “when the arguer claims that his conclusion is one of only two options, when in fact there are other possibilities. The arguer then goes on to show that the ‘only other option’ is clearly outrageous, and so his preferred conclusion must be embraced.” In Lewis’ case, the dilemma is between “God” and “devilish madman.” It has also been termed a “trilemma,” where the three popularly cited options are “liar, lunatic, or Lord.”

What this false dilemma ignores is that other options are possible, and the three categories aren’t mutually exclusive. Jesus could well have been a liar about some things (e.g., being God) and told the truth about other things. Is anyone really 100% liar or 100% truth-teller? Of course not. He could have been (and was) way off on the God thing, but that doesn’t mean he was wrong on absolutely everything else and didn’t provide any good moral teachings. Lunatics, too, can speak words of truth through their foolishness–a favorite theme of Shakespeare’s. And what about the “honestly mistaken” category?

The trilemma also assumes that the biblical account is an accurate portrait of Jesus’ message. The latest of the four canonical gospels, the Gospel of John, contains almost all of Jesus’ claims to be God, including all the famous “I Am” statements. All of the gospels were written at least a generation after Jesus’ death (70-95 CE), but the gospel of John is the latest and most philosophical of the four. Perhaps Jesus’ statements were juiced up and altered by people with an agenda?

It is clear that such interpolations did in fact take place as the story of Jesus developed, even after the gospels themselves were written. One of the most beloved stories from the Gospel of John, for example, is the story of the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11), traditionally known as the Pericope Adulterae. This passage is widely viewed as a later addition to the gospel, and almost all modern translations (including my NIV Bible), mark it off with lines before and after and with a note that says the earliest and most reliable manuscripts do not contain this story. As such, it is thought to be a fourth-fifth century interpolation.

As stories about Jesus grew in popularity and spread by word of mouth, it is almost impossible to imagine that they weren’t changed or exaggerated in some way before being written down decades later. This is not to make a specific point about the gospel accounts, but simply to say that other options outside Lewis’ trilemma are very probable. Along with some decent moral sayings, the actions and words of Jesus could as well be “myth” or “metaphor” as lies, ravings, or the words of a supernatural deity embodied in a human.

Once you take your eyes off of YOUR personal sufferings and what you’re going through and focus instead on Jesus and what he endured for our sakes, it all seems to pale in comparison. He was willing to come and suffer every temptation for our sake, and he died the most painful death imaginable for us. Suffering should not, then be seen as a mistake, but as something that is very much a part of the Christian life.

This is a common statement among the faithful, but it is without merit. A lot of evangelical emotionalism relies on the fact that Jesus underwent ultimate suffering for people who are ultimately unworthy: a starling parallel that can’t help but play into any existing sense of worthlessness or guilt that people might have. There are several reasons why these people should not feel amazed or privileged in light of Jesus’ death, and I’ll outline a few of them here.

First, Jesus did die a painful death (if the biblical accounts are to be believed, and I’ll assume for the sake of argument here that they are). But it was no different from the deaths of hundreds of people who were scourged and hung up to die every week during the height of Roman imperialism in the Middle East (c.f. Josephus). Sure, Jesus had one bad weekend “for us”…but then he got to rise up and reign in heaven forever. The total amount of suffering in his life was average and purposefully exceeded by many of his followers, proving false the claim that Jesus underwent any kind of “ultimate suffering.”

Second, was the suffering in any way related to what Jesus had to accomplish? If it was in some way efficacious for his ends, why didn’t God make him suffer a little more–by prolonging his death or having the Romans gouge out his eyes in some kind of Promethean torture–thereby increasing the potency of his sacrifice and making it even better? We can only conclude by the average amount of suffering Jesus underwent that it was all auxiliary to his main goal, which was simply to die…and then you wonder why God didn’t just behead him like Abraham was going to do to Isaac, or something a little less painful. The only logical purpose his suffering seems to serve is getting Christians to feel grateful and unworthy; the opening quote from my friend is a case in point.

Third, it wasn’t even a real death (if Christian doctrine is to be accepted). Jesus knew beforehand that he was going to rise again (see Mark 8:31 or John 10:17-18), and apparently he even told other people about it (see Matthew 27:63). How is this a sacrifice at all? It’s a day of torture at the end of an average life–with no actual death involved. It’s like agreeing to enter a coma when you know that your life will be infinitely better when you wake up in three days. It’s nothing at all–it’s just a “watch my magic show” kind of thing that people are required to see (or believe) before God will consider forgiving them, which his omnipotence apparently couldn’t afford beforehand.

Fourth, what’s the whole deal with blood sacrifice? Besides being primitive, immoral, and disgusting, it’s integrally related (in the Jewish tradition) to certain conditions: the spotless lamb, for example, had to be sacrificed on an altar with the right words pronounced over it in order for God to accept the blood, be appeased, and forgive the people (see Leviticus 1). In other words, a lamb couldn’t just be attacked and killed out in the field by a lion and grant the Israelites absolution for the coming year. Yet this is exactly what happened to Jesus; he was killed under normal, criminal circumstances that had nothing to do with sacrifice or substitutionary atonement. He failed to meet even the most basic requirements of God’s law for a sacrifice.

Speaking of which, the concept of substitutionary atonement is one of those things I stopped understanding as soon as I gave it a moment’s thought. No modern court would condone this form of punishment, view it as moral, or consider it justice. And why would an omnipotent God even want it? He created people knowing they were going to sin–setting them up to sin–and then created this loophole of killing himself so the bastards could still sit in his presence, even though he created the system and can do whatever he wants. Huh?

I would normally just cast aside the beliefs about Jesus’ glorified suffering–if they didn’t have so many awful implications. Orthodox Christianity views suffering as a virtue, and this is antithetical to the good of humanity. As Christopher Hitchens pointed out, for example, Mother Teresa had millions in the bank but insisted on laying down her patients on the bare floors of filthy warehouses and holding their hands while they died instead of administering medicine or pain killers, all of which were easily within her means to provide. Why? Because she thought suffering was a virtue that led you closer to the experience and reality of Christ.

As mentioned before, secular scientists are far better at eliminating disease and suffering than God is. Perhaps the best bliblical explanation for this is that God likes suffering. Most Christians expect persecution and view it as a sign that they really are in line with what God wants–why else would the devil be attacking them so hard? This is a harmful worldview that accepts the bad things in life (as proof of salvation) without making an attempt to reduce suffering and improve life in a tangible way. A true moral sense should lead us to desire a life that eradicates unnecessary suffering, not one that glorifies it.

One of my entry-level statements when discussing human morality is that no matter where it does come from, we can be fairly certain it’s not from the holy books of the monotheistic religions. I’ve been surprised at how many people actually believe that we would be immoral barbarians without these sets of “guidelines”; my assumption that most Christians approached the moral argument for God from the “universal inner light of conscience” angle instead of the “book of laws” angle was the driving force behind the approach I took to writing the previous article on secular morality.

Anyway, one of the most common and hotly disputed arguments for the immorality of the Torah (which all three major monotheistic religions honor) is God’s commendation of slavery, so I’d like to focus on that as an example case (as opposed to taking a general swipe at the myriad moral incongruities of the Torah). I don’t think we’ll get very far without first reading the verses in question (from the mouth of God), so here we go….Skim this if you know the verses.

Slaves can be taken and passed down as inherited property (i.e., “real” slaves):

Your male and female slaves are to come from the nations around you; from them you may buy slaves. You may also buy some of the temporary residents living among you and members of their clans born in your country, and they will become your property. You can will them to your children as inherited property and can make them slaves for life, but you must not rule over your fellow Israelites ruthlessly. (Leviticus 25:44-46)

Slaves of your own race (!) are to be released after six years, but you can keep any wife or children that slave attains along the way. If he doesn’t want to be separated from that family, guess what? He’s your slave for life, too:

If you buy a Hebrew servant, he is to serve you for six years. But in the seventh year, he shall go free, without paying anything. If he comes alone, he is to go free alone; but if he has a wife when he comes, she is to go with him. If his master gives him a wife and she bears him sons or daughters, the woman and her children shall belong to her master, and only the man shall go free. But if the servant declares, ‘I love my master and my wife and children and do not want to go free,’ then his master must take him before the judges. He shall take him to the door or the doorpost and pierce his ear with an awl. Then he will be his servant for life. (Exodus 21:2-6)

Exodus 21:7-11 gives regulations for the practice of sex slavery (selling your daughter), and Exodus 21:20-21 gives regulations about how hard you can beat your slaves (as long as they don’t die, you’re pretty much good to go), but I won’t quote these here in the interest of time. Just read ‘em.

There are four basic responses that I’ve heard (largely from Christians) attempting to justify the issue of slavery in the Torah, and I’ll deal with each one in turn.

1. God is allowing slavery, not condoning it. This seems to be the weakest of the various arguments. If God is giving specific instructions on how to deal with slaves, there is no practical difference between “allowing” and “condoning.” The only definition of “allow” that doesn’t overlap with “condone” is avoiding completely, and both God’s instructions and his omniscience/omnipotence rule this option out.

2. God condoned slavery, but only because it was ubiquitous at the time and impossible to stop. This argument has more internal congruence, but it doesn’t square with the fundamental idea that the word of God represents our universal guide to morality. As soon as you make this claim, you’re launching into moral relativism and accepting the fact that social mores have changed drastically over time–an idea that most secular humanists would wholeheartedly embrace. In fact, when you admit that modern secular morality is superior to what is taught in your holy book, we cease to disagree on this particular point.

Moreover, there is absolutely no reason to assume that the God of the Torah was opposed to making rules that completely upset the status quo in the ancient Middle East. Why would he have banned idols in the ten commandments, for example, if he was dead set on not upsetting the social mores of the times? According to the biblical record, this was a big deal for the Israelites, and a command so stunning that they had a notoriously hard time keeping the idols out of their society–much to God’s chagrin.

With all this existing hassle in instituting difficult (but moral!) laws, would it have been so hard for God to make room or erase one of the less important commandments (like not coveting) and put in a solid zinger like “Thou Shalt Not Own Thy Fellow Man”? Or at the very least remain utterly silent on the issue? No, instead we have the joys of slave ownership forever emblazoned in God’s one, holy, eternal revelation to humanity.

3. But that’s the Old Testament! And why don’t you care just because God said it in the Old Testament? If Jesus=God, this argument is moot. It’s the same guy, and he can’t be “perfectly moral” just some of the time. Why was slavery ever okay? Why are you still hanging the Ten Commandments in your house if you don’t accept the teachings of the Old Testament? Jesus affirmed every word of his own law (see Matthew 5:18), never chose to speak out against slavery at all, and presented it in a positive, matter-of-fact light when he did mention it (e.g., in parables or references like Luke 12:47). And it’s not like the New Testament as a whole is any better about slavery regardless (see Ephesians 6:5 or 1 Timothy 6:1-2)….

4. No matter how you read the biblical text, real Christians don’t support something as immoral as slavery. This is an interesting objection, but based on what’s in the Torah (see above), it’s really just a textbook example of the “No True Scotsman” fallacy. The theist’s mores have changed and grown with society like everyone else’s, but this process has necessitated ignoring large portions of their holy book–while still clinging to the belief that everything in it is moral.

This is demonstrated in stark relief by reading the sermons of many “upstanding,” biblically grounded Christians during the 19th century. Kazim on the Atheist Experience blog makes the excellent point that these Christians saw the Bible as proof that slavery was sanctioned by God, and he quotes an essay called “Scriptural View of Slavery,” which was written in 1856 by the Reverend Thornton Stringfellow, a Baptist minister from Culpepper County in Virginia. I’ll quote the passages he highlighted on the blog:

Job himself was a great slave-holder, and, like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, won no small portion of his claims to character with God and men from the manner in which he discharged his duty to his slaves.

See Lev. xxv: 44, 45, 46; ‘Thy bond-men and thy bond-maids which thou shalt have, shall be of the heathen that are round about you: of them shall ye buy bond-men and bond-maids. Moreover, of the children of the strangers that do sojourn among you, of them shall ye buy, and of their families that are with you, which they begat in your land. And they shall be your possession. And ye shall take them as an inheritance for your children after you, to inherit them for a possession, they shall be your bond-man forever.’ I ask any candid man, if the words of this institution could be more explicit? It is from God himself; it authorizes that people, to whom he had become king and law-giver, to purchase men and women as property; to hold them and their posterity in bondage; and to will them to their children as a possession forever; and more, it allows foreign slaveholders to settle and live among them; to breed slaves and sell them.

This, by the way, is a singular circumstance, that Jesus Christ should put a system of measures into operation, which have for their object the subjugation of all men to him as a law-giver–kings, legislators, and private citizens in all nations; at a time, too, when hereditary slavery existed in all; and after it had been incorporated for fifteen hundred years into the Jewish constitution, immediately given by God himself. I say, it is passing strange, that under such circumstances, Jesus should fail to prohibit its further existence, if it was his intention to abolish it.

If, therefore, doing to others as we would they should do to us, means precisely what loving our neighbor as ourself means, then Jesus has added no new moral principle above those in the law of Moses, to prohibit slavery, for in his law is found this principle, and slavery also.

We can agree, of course, that Revered Stringfellow was wrong about the morality of slavery. But we can’t say that he didn’t hold to a stringent, accurate, biblical code of morality.

In conclusion, I’ve found this last argument to be the most common. Good Christian people are utterly committed to the idea that God hates slavery, and they’ll insist on it no matter what they read in their book. “There just has to be a reasonable explanation,” they’ve told me, without knowing what that explanation could possibly be. If you serve the “God of the Bible,” slavery and other moral ills are unavoidably endorsed by your god, and our standard of morality certainly isn’t measured by his words.