Philosopher, cultural critic, and classical education champion Douglas Wilson is the perfect foil to author Christopher Hitchens. Both are near-merciless satirists and have unusually sharp minds (for our time), as Hitchens’s books and newspaper columns and Wilson’s blog and Credenda/Agenda magazine will attest. In short, they’re made for each other.
Hitchens is extremely literate, perhaps the anti-Lewis, in fact. He understands Christianity quite well but finds it morally and in all other ways repugnant. His quiet vitriol for the heart of Christianity (substitutionary atonement) takes one’s breath. He catches one off-guard because he manages to sound civil while he slips in the knife, all the way to the hilt. Wilson hold his own, however, not shying away from Hitchens’s assault.
Read on for a couple quick quotes from the first exchange to prove my point.
Hitchens on “vicarious redemption”
Many of the teachings of Christianity are, as well as being incredible and mythical, immoral. I would principally wish to cite the concept of vicarious redemption, whereby one’s own responsibilities can be flung onto a scapegoat and thereby taken away. In my book, I argue that I can pay your debt or even take your place in prison but I cannot absolve you of what you actually did. This exorbitant fantasy of “forgiveness” is unfortunately matched by an equally extreme admonition—which is that the refusal to accept such a sublime offer may be punishable by eternal damnation. Not even the Old Testament, which speaks hotly in recommending genocide, slavery, genital mutilation, and other horrors, stoops to mention the torture of the dead. Those who tell this evil story to small children are not damned by me, but have been damned by history and should also be condemned by those who shrink from cruelty to children (a moral essential that underlies all cultures).
Hitchens on God’s existence and revelation
I cannot, of course, prove that there is no supervising deity who invigilates my every moment and who will pursue me even after I am dead. (I can only be happy that there is no evidence for such a ghastly idea, which would resemble a celestial North Korea in which liberty was not just impossible but inconceivable.) But nor has any theologian ever demonstrated the contrary. This would perhaps make the believer and the doubter equal—except that the believer claims to know, not just that God exists, but that his most detailed wishes are not merely knowable but actually known.
Wilson on the logical conclusion of atheism
Why should this “damnation by history” matter to any of us reading Bible stories to kids, or, for that matter, to any of the people who did any of these atrocious things, on your principles? These people are all dead now, and we who read the stories are all going to be dead. Why should any of us care about the effeminate judgments of history? Should the propagators of these “horrors” have cared? There is no God, right? Because there is no God, this means that—you know—genocides just happen, like earthquakes and eclipses. It is all matter in motion, and these things happen. . . .
Picture an Israelite during the conquest of Canaan, doing every bad thing that you say was occurring back then. During one of his outrages, sword above his head, should he have stopped for a moment to reflect on the possibility that you might be right? “You know, in about three and a half millennia, the consensus among historians will be that I am being bad right now. But if there is no God, this disapproval will certainly not disturb my oblivion. On with the rapine and slaughter!” On your principles, why should he care?