There's an item on BoingBoing about a recent AP report that at certain cemeteries, hymns have been almost entirely replaced by secular songs as funeral music. And not secular like "Happy Birthday," but like "Stairway to Heaven" and "Highway to Hell." Among the top picks: "My Way" and "Wonderful World."

We've noticed this trend. We were at a wake once and the mix included - no joke - "Don't Get Around Much Anymore." Personally, we'd go for a little "Farther Along," or "Amazing Grace," but to each his or her own.

Anyone have any song requests, or any crazy funeral music anecdotes to share?

The recent Pew Forum study on religion, widely reported in the media, shows that the vast majority of Americans remains religious: 92 percent believe in God. This percentage has remained relatively stable for more than half a century.

Atheists remain a tiny proportion of the population with some interesting anomalies: 21 percent of self-identified atheists say they believe in God, with nearly 10 percent of them "absolutely sure" of it. What this means is that 21 percent of self-described atheists are highly confused and 10 percent are certified nut-cases.

What got the most attention, however, was Pew's discovery that a majority of religious Americans believe that other religions make valid claims about God and can lead to heaven. Around 80 percent of Catholics, Protestants and Jews, as well as 55 percent of Muslims, reject the idea that their religion is the only way.

These findings, however, hardly suggest that pluralism has overtaken truth as the defining feature of American religion. First of all, Christianity is the only religion to hold another religion to be wholly true. That religion is Judaism. Second, Catholics and Protestants have become increasingly convinced that it is fidelity to creedal Christianity--and not the denominational differences of past centuries--that is decisive for salvation. Finally many people don't realize that just as Christianity sees itself as succeeding and incorporating Judaism, so Islam sees itself as coming after and incorporating both Judaism and Christianity. Consequently I'm not surprised that most Muslims view Jews and Christians as fellow monotheists rather than hell-bound infidels.

Soon my Orange County debate with atheist Christopher Hitchens and Jewish radio host Dennis Prager will be up on the web and I'll link to it. The debate, amusingly billed as a Christian-Atheist-Jewish showdown, had some fiery and fascinating exchanges. At one point Hitchens sought to alienate me from the Jews in the audience by asking me if good and decent Jews can go to heaven. I said I believe they can. This is no denial of the central Christian proposition that Christ is the way to salvation. The Bible clearly specifies that there is salvation through Christ for his followers.

But Scripture and Christian teaching leave open the question of what happens to virtuous non-Christians who either lived before Christ or who have not had a chance to accept him. My hope and belief is that God's mercy can extend to them also, as it did to Moses and Abraham and the God-fearing Jews of the Old Testament. If so, they too would be saved through Christ's sacrifice on the cross, even if they did not consciously and explicitly embrace that sacrifice. As for atheists who reject God and affirm with Hitchens that they want nothing to do with heaven, we can be reasonably confident that God will respect their free will and reluctantly grant their wish.

There are two kinds of pluralism: the kind that holds that truth does not matter, and the kind that holds that truth matters greatly but as flawed human beings our reason and experience gives us only limited access to the truth. The first kind of pluralism is deadly for religion, and is typically embraced by flaccid people who are too lazy to think or who have been seduced by postmodernist flimflam. The second kind of pluralism is the shared ground of debate between intelligent believers and unbelievers. The stakes could not be higher.

Nietzsche has been dead for more than a hundred years, yet today his reputation is higher than ever. Indeed Nietzsche is probably the leading philosopher to whom liberal intellectuals and academics look for inspiration and guidance. For example, the late Robert Solomon of the University of Texas at Austin, in his book Living With Nietzsche, proclaims Nietzsche to be the most insightful and relevant thinker for our time.

How can this be? Nietzsche was openly and contemptuously opposed to most of the cardinal tenets of modern liberalism. For instance, he hated democracy and equality and proclaimed both to be the pathetic legacy of Christianity. He denounced socialism in even-more-harsh terms, declaring it fit for only cows and women. Speaking of women, Nietzsche was not exactly a feminist. Among his pungent sayings: "Whenever a woman is a scholar there is usually something wrong with her sex organs." Or, "When thou goest to woman, do not forget thy whip."

In addition, Nietzsche exalts what he terms "master morality" and condemns what he terms "slave morality." And what is slave morality? Basically it is the liberal virtue of compassion which Nietzsche treats entirely as a vice. For Nietzsche it is the losers of society--the slaves--who have invented compassion as a virtue in order to tie down the masters who rightly and uninhibitedly dominate them. Nietzsche views slave morality as motivated by resentment, jealousy and inferiority complex all masquerading as righteousness. You cannot embrace Nietzsche's doctrine without seeing, say, Frederick Douglass and Martin Luther King in an entirely new light.

Moreover, Nietzsche condemns compassion even on the part of the giver. Nietzsche argues that "to see others suffer does one good" and that "to be unwilling to help can be nobler than the virtue which jumps to help." Nietzsche declares that compassion, far from being praiseworthy, is actually a cunning way for people to make themselves feel superior to others, and then to congratulate themselves for being in a position to help those lower people. Again, one comes away from reading Nietzsche with a far less benign view of people like George Soros and Nancy Pelosi.

So why does the cultural left, as represented by liberal intellectuals like Solomon, love Nietzsche so much? I think there are two reasons. The first is that Nietzsche is a rabid atheist. Not only does Nietzsche declate that "God is dead" but he also insists that Western society must rid itself of all vestiges of Christian morality. This goes way beyond atheists like Richard Dawkins who feebly proclaim themselves "cultural Christians."

Second, Nietzsche is an unabashed elitist. He contrasts the elite with what he terms "the herd." This is a wonderful distinction that enables half-educated liberals to say to themselves, "Hey, when Nietzsche scorns the herd he must be talking about my parents and my pastor and all those people who think that I am a selfish loser and a nerd. And when Nietzsche praises the lone rebel who dares to reject morality in the name of a higher conscience, well, he must have had me in mind!"

P.S. Read the childish and abusive reaction from atheists (including some who can do no better than pretend to be me) to see that this analysis strikes a chord. "When you cannot answer a man's argument, do not panic. You can always call him names."

When Richard Dawkins published The God Delusion, philosopher Michael Ruse was quoted as saying that the book "makes me embarrassed to be an atheist." What especially galls Ruse is Dawkins' pig-headed insistence that anyone who embraces the Darwinian account of evolution cannot remain a Christian.

Ruse is a noted philosopher at Florida State University, an atheist champion of evolution and Darwinism, and author of several critically acclaimed books including Can a Darwinian Be a Christian?

I've been reading Ruse's book, and in it he counters Dawkins' simple-minded argument that God has been proven irrelevant since chance and natural selection now constitute "the blind watchmaker." Ruse writes, "It still leaves open the option of God's designing at a distance. Perhaps God put His design into action through the medium of unbroken law. Perhaps a God who works in this way is superior to a God who has to intervene personally and miraculously."

But doesn't evolution contradict a literal reading of the first chapter of Genesis? Yes, but Ruse points out that there are only two groups of people who insist on reading Genesis in a close-mindedly literal way. The first group is ignorant fundamentalists. And the second group is ignorant atheists like Dawkins.

By contrast, Ruse shows that from earliest times thoughtful Christians like the church father Augustine read the creation account figuratively. And for nearly two thousand years the Catholic Church has followed in this tradition. Ruse adds that while Calvin was a bit more literal-minded than Luther, both leading reformers also allowed for non-literal understandings of creation. Indeed Calvin introduced his doctrine of "accommodation" in which he argued that the Bible is sometimes written in a form as to make itself intelligible to people who are not well educated and don't have a sophisticated understanding of science.

Ruse 's conclusion introduces subtleties that seem entirely beyond the capacity of Dawkins. "Is the Christian obligated to be a Darwinian?" Ruse answers no, but urges Christians to take evolutionary biology seriously because they don't want a Christianity practiced in the dark. "Is the Darwinian obligated to be a Christian?" Again, the answer is no but Ruse adds this advice: "Try to be understanding of those who are." Finally Ruse gets to the big one. "Can a Darwinian be a Christian?" To which he offers the resounding answer: "Absolutely!"

Science is wonderful at doing certain things, like popping warm toast out of my toaster and making heavy objects float and fly. Without science we wouldn't be able to do those things. No wonder that science enjoys a position of high prestige in our society.

But the achievements of science blind many people to the fact that science is a limited tool for understanding ourselves and the world. In some areas science has showed astounding progress, but in other areas science has taught us no more than we knew since the time of the Babylonians.

Consider some of the most important questions facing us as human beings: Why are we here? Where ultimately did we come from? Where are we going? Science can provide us with very limited answers. As the philosopher Wittgenstein once put it, one has the feeling that even if all possible scientific knowledge could been obtained, the biggest questions of life would remain largely untouched and unanswered.

Skepticism is of course a central tool of science, but many skeptics make the mistake of failing to apply skepticism to science itself. They are skeptical within science but they are not skeptical about science. They naively believe that science can answer all the questions that require answers. Thus they demand of science what science has never provided and is not likely to provide in the future.

I call this the "atheism of the gaps." The basic idea is that if science hasn't figured something out, just wait a few years, because the brilliant scientists are working on it. Have faith that they will come up with good answers in the future, just as they have in the past. In other words, we should assume that people who are smart enough to make toasters are also smart enough to figure out whether there is life after death.

Yes, it's laughable, and that's why I'm sorry to see smart fellows like my friend Michael Shermer succumbing to this science-worship. Shermer is the editor of Skeptic magazine and author of some fine books including most recently The Mind of the Market. We've done several God v. atheism debates, the most recent one before 2,500 people at Fresno State University. It was one of our liveliest, and you can watch that debate here.

Shermer used to be a Christian fundamentalist. He always gets off a funny line about how he used to go door to door handing out literature, and now as an atheist he wants to go back to those people and take back the stuff he gave them. In a way, though, Shermer remains a believer. He still places his faith in men in white robes. Only these men happen to work not in pulpits but in laboratories. Science is now Shermer's religion.

In a couple of my debates, I asked Shermer what kind of scientific evidence he would require to be convinced that God exists. I asked him, "What if we discovered a new planet tomorrow and emblazed on it were the words: YAHWEH MADE THIS. Would you then believe that there is a God?" Shermer said no. He would automatically conclude that some chance combination of chemicals must have generated those words. In short, he is closed to supernatural explanations, no matter what the data, and is only open to natural explanations.

This I consider a selective sort of skepticism that is actually a lamentable sort of dogmatism. I see it also in Hitchens, Dawkins, Harris and Dennett. In a way they are much narrower than religious believers. That's because the religious believer admits both natural and supernatural explanations. By contrast, these unbelievers have closed themselves off to all possibilities that don't fit their naturalistic outlook. One may say that science has blinded them to the things that science cannot possibly tell them.

In his book A Brief Tour of Human Consciousness, V.S. Ramachandran says it "never ceases to amaze me" that "all the richness of our mental life--all our feelings, our emotions, our thoughts, our ambitions--is simply the activity of these little specks of jelly in our brains. There is nothing else." Here is the voice of materialism, the doctrine that holds that matter is all that there is, and mind is simply an epiphenomenon of matter. It is the intellectual foundation of the new atheism espoused by Richard Dawkins, Steven Pinker, Daniel Dennett and others.

Dawkins, Pinker and Dennett offer nothing to prove the doctrine, and neither does Ramachandran. The best Ramachandran can do is cite exotic ailments: the fellow who could recognize shapes but not faces; the fellow who thought his mother was an imposter in disguise, the patient who responded to pain with laughter, and so on. Turns out that these peculiarities emerge as a result of damage to particular parts of the brain.

But so what? When I bash my radio, the sound stops. Does that mean the radio is creating the sound waves? Isn't it more reasonable to say the radio is simply the instrument or conduit that makes it possible for us to hear those sound waves? Similarly when it rains on the Wimbledon tennis court, play is cancelled. Does this mean that the tennis court is responsible for Federer's serve? No, it simply shows that Federer's serve requires a tennis court for us to be able to watch and appreciate it. In the same vein, all that Ramachandran's outlandish examples prove is that the brain is the site or venue where mental activity takes place. The brain may well be the necessary vehicle for mental activitity. It does not follow that brains and minds are identical.

In his excellent new book The Spiritual Brain, neuroscientist Mario Beauregard turns Ramachandran's argument on its head. He shows that if matter can shape mind, it's equally true that mind can shape matter. In my last post I offered one line of Beauregard's evidence, focusing on placebo and nocebo effects. Here I offer a second. Beauregard matches Ramachandran with his own list of ailments: patients suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder, patients who are depressed, patients who have various phobias such as fears of spiders and cats, and so on.

It turns out that many of these disorders are the result of mental traumas of one sort or another. These traumas leave scars or effects on the physical structure of the brain. Drugs can sometimes help, but frequently they have unpleasant side effects. So what many skilled health care professionals now do is they train the patients to think differently about their condition. For instance, patients who are scared of spiders are shown and taught that most spiders are quite harmless. Eventually the patients train their minds learn to control their paranoia.

Now here is the remarkable thing. When the patients learn to use their wills to control their fears, researchers have discovered that this mental activity also changes the workings of the patients' brains. In other words, mental activity can change the very structure and distribution of the neurons and circuits in the brain. Call it "mind over matter."

What Beauregard is saying that that since minds can regulate brains, therefore minds are not the same as brains. And if my countryman Ramachandran is amazed that little pieces of matter can shape our mental life, I am equally amazed that purely mental events can remake the physical operations of our brains. One day we will figure all this out, and then I predict we will find that minds are much more than an epiphenomenon of matter.

According to this site linked on BoingBoing, a California Ford dealership ran a radio ad saying they'd just as soon non-Christians not buy cars from them. Here's an excerpt from the transcript:

Did you know that 86% of Americans say they believe in God? Since we all know that 86 out of every 100 of us are Christians, who believe in God, we at Kieffe & Sons Ford wonder why we don't tell the other 14% to sit down and shut up.

Conventional wisdom holds that the human mind is nothing more than the human brain. This belief derives from materialism. By "materialism" I don't mean the mania to shop unceasingly at the mall. Rather, I mean the philosophy that material reality is all that there is. Immaterial or spiritual realities are, in this view, simply epiphenomena of the material world.

We find the materialist view ably expressed in Francis Crick's The Astonishing Hypothesis. What Crick finds astonishing is that our thoughts, emotions and feelings consist entirely in the physiological activity in the circuitry of the brain. Daniel Dennett argues that "mind" is simply a term for what the brain does. And how do we know that the brain and the mind are essentially the same? The best evidence is that when the brain is damaged, the injury affects the mind. Patients whose brains atrophy due to stroke, for instance, lose their ability to distinguish colors or to empathize with others.

But in his book The Spiritual Brain, neuroscientist Mario Beauregard shows why the Crick-Dennett position is based on a fallacy. Yes, the brain is the necessary locus or venue for the mind to operate. It does not follow that the two are the same. Beauregard gives a telling analogy. "Olympic swimming events require an Olympic class swimming pool. But the pool does not create the Olympic events; it makes them feasible at a given location." Far from being identical to the mind, Beauregard argues that the brain "is an organ suitable for connecting the mind to the rest of the universe."

A provocative idea. Beauregard produces several lines of evidence, but there I focus on just one: the placebo effect. The placebo or sugar-pill effect is one of the most widely-attested phenomena in medicine. One medicine journal notes that "the history of medicine is the history of the placebo effect." So powerful is the impact of the sugar pill that today the effectiveness of drugs is measured by the FDA in comparison to the placebo effect.

Yet as Beauregard points out, the placebo effect is an embarassment to the simple-minded conception of the mind as an ephiphenomenon of the brain. The reason is that this effect shows the mind shaping the brain. The mental expectation of being cured leads to an actual alteration in the physical workings of the brain, and the patient experiences a measurable physiological improvement. One doctor who cured a patient through the placebo effect was asked what he gave the patient that produced such an incredible result. His answer? "Hope."

Beauregard also writes about something I didn't know much about: the nocebo effect. "The nocebo effect is the harmful health effect created by a sick person's belief and expectation that a powerful source of harm has been contacted or administered." So if patients are strongly convinced that a particular pill will give them nausea, they frequently become nauseous, even when the pill they have taken is not the one they expected but only a sugar pill.

Materialism is based on the assumption that the only way to alter the mind is to alter the physical operations of the brain. But Beauregard uses the placebo and nocebo effect to show the reverse. The mind can also regulate the operations of the brain. Beauregard writes that he placebo and nocebo effects are not triggered by the sugar pill but rather are "triggered by the patient's mental state. In other words, they depend entirely on the patient's state of belief."

But if minds can control brains, them minds are not the same as brains. This leads to the unavoidable conclusion that there is an aspect of thought and feeling that lies outside the realm of the material. This is what Beauregard calls "the spiritual brain." Atheists too have one, even if they refuse to admit it.

Why are secular liberals so unhappy? This question is provocatively discussed in Arthur Brooks' new book Gross National Happiness. Brooks is a sociologist and statistician at Syracuse University. I am reading his book while vacationing with my lovely wife on the beautiful island of Santorini. So it's natural for me, watching the most beautiful sunsets in the world, martini in hand, to think about the question of happiness.

Brooks' book is full of interesting data. We learn, for instance, that money does buy happiness, but only upto a point. Poor people and poor countries are unhappy, and by the self-description of the people involved. So the movement from grinding poverty to the comfortable middle-class brings a huge gain in happiness. But interestingly economic improvement at this point brings diminishing marginal returns. This is not to say that rich people aren't happier: they are. But not by very much.

Brooks also shows that, in his own words, "people who say they are conservative or very conservative are nearly twice as likely to say they are very happy than are people who call themselves liberal or very liberal. Conservatives are much less likely to say they are dissatisfied with themselves, that they are inclined to feel like a failure, or to be pessimistic about their future." Conservatives' mental health is far better than that of liberals.

Equally fascinating, Brooks notes that "faith is an incredible predictor, and cause, of happiness. Religious people of all faiths are much, much happier on average than secularists." Specifically, 43 percent of those who attend church weekly or more call themselves "very happy," versus 23 percent who attend seldom or never. Observant Jews and Christians are by Brooks' measure the happiest people in America.

So why are secular liberals in general so miserable? I offer two reasons. The first is that liberals are political utopians. They consider human nature to be wonderful, and they expect freedom to be used wonderfully well. So they are always bitterly disappointed when they discover that this is not the case. Conservatives, by contrast, have a dimmer view of human nature. So their expectations are more modest. When things don't turn out half-badly, conservatives are pleasantly surprised. They are happier because it takes less to make them happier.

It's not too hard to figure out why religious people are happier. Belief in God gives people a powerful sense of higher purpose in life. It assures people that the universe is in the benign hands of a omnipotent, omniscient, and compassionate higher power. It offers people a code for how to live. It gives us a reason to hope in cosmic justice, which is better than the imperfect justice of our terrestrial world.

By contrast, secular people have little to hope for. They are sure that they came from nowhere--the chance product of random mutation and natural selection--and are going nowhere. They know that terrible things happen, and they don't believe there is any purpose in this. No wonder that secular people have so few children: they have much less reason than religious people to believe in the future.

So why is an atheist like Richard Dawkins so frequently wearing a conspitated scowl? And why am I usually smiling? Some may attribute these differences to our genetic temperaments. Others may put it down to the fact that I live in sunny California, eating healthy nouvelle cuisine and going on walking tours in Santorini. Dawkins, by contrast, lives in dank, rainy England and eats abominable English food. ("May I offer you some more kidney pie, Professor Dawkins? It's somewhat bland, I know, but perhaps it will work as a laxative.")

But Arthur Brooks would probably say that our temperaments are also the consequences of two very different worldviews, one producing the wholesome optimism of What's So Great About Christianity, the other the angry bitterness of The God Delusion. Read Brooks' new book yourself to see if he's right.

Atheists seem very eager to claim Einstein for one of their own. Richard Dawkins devotes a whole section to Einstein in The God Delusion and Christopher Hitchens' Portable Atheist is peppered with Einstein quotations seemingly rejecting all belief in God. Recently an Einstein letter surfaced which showed the great scientist scorning the idea that the Jews were in any sense God's chosen people.

But all that these quotations prove is that Einstein was not an orthodox believer. He rejected the idea of a personal God "who would directly influence the actions of individuals or would sit in judgment on creatures of his own creation." Einstein also rejeted the immortality of the soul, noting that "one life is enough for me."

At the same time, Walter Isaacson in his celebrated new biography Einstein provides ample evidence that Einstein not only believed in a higher or transcendent power, but also that Einstein despised atheists. Here are some quotations, drawn from Isaacson's book with full documentation, that I offer as a needed counterbalance to the one-sided list provided by Dawkins, Hitchens and the others.

On whether he considered himself religious: "Yes, you could call it that. Try and penetrate with our limited means the secrets of nature and you will find that, behind all the discernible laws and connections, there remains something subtle, intangible and inexplicable. Veneration for this foce beyond anything we can comprehend is my religion."

On whether he accepted the historical existence of Christ: "Unquestionably! No one can read the Gospels without feeling the actual presence of Jesus. His personality pulsates in every word. No myth is filled with such life."

On whether he considered himself an atheist: "I'm not an atheist. The problem involved is too vast for our limited minds. We are in the position of a little child entering a huge library filled with books in many languages. The child knows someone must have written those books. It does not know how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written. The child dimly suspects a mysterious order in the arrangement of the books but doesn't know what that is. That, it seems to me, is the attitude of the most intelligent human toward God."

On the nature of God: "That deeply emotional conviction of a presence of a superior reasoning power, which is revealed in the incomprehensible universe, forms my idea of God."

On whether science leads to religion: "Every one who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science becomes convinced that a spirit is manifest in the laws of nature--a spirit vastly superior to that of man, and one in the face of which we with our modest powers must feel humble. In this way the pursuit of science leads to a religious feeling of a special sort."

On how religion motivates scientific inquiry: "The cosmic religious feeling is the strongest and noblest motive for scientific research."

On whether science and religion are at odds: "The situation may be expressed by an image: science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind."

On how he feels about atheist efforts to claim him as an ally: "There are people who say there is no God, but what makes me really angry is that they quote me for support of such views."

On how he regards atheists: "The fanatical atheists...are creatures who cannot her the music of the spheres. I do not share the crusading spirit of the professional atheist. What separates me from most so-called atheists is a feeling of utter humility toward the unattainable secrets of the harmony of the cosmos."

Peter Singer is a calm, lucid and able debater, and our debate at Biola University in Los Angeles on April 25 was lively and hard-fought. Not for nothing is Singer considered a world-class philosopher and advocate. You can watch the debate here.

Singer praised me for not simply making assertions of faith or hurling Bible passages at him but rather for using reason and argument to make my case . And I complimented Singer for stepping, so to speak, into the lion's den. (Biola actually stands for Bible Institute of Los Angeles.) Unlike the pusillanimous Richard Dawkins, who doesn't dare to debate me even at his home campus of Oxford, Singer was brave to come to a Christian campus to dispute the resolution "God: Yes or No." The audience of 3,000 was mostly though not exclusively Christian.

So perhaps atheism has found an able advocate. But unbelievers may want to think twice before lining up behind Singer, who argues in favor of infanticide, euthanasia and (this is not a joke) animal rights! One of Singer's interesting proposals concerns what may be called "fourth trimester" abortions, i.e. the right to kill one's offspring even after birth!

Here are some choice Singer quotations on the subject which I get from his books Rethinking Life and Death and Writings on an Ethical Life.

On how mothers should be permitted to kill their offspring until the age of 28 days: "My colleague Helga Kuhse and I suggest that a period of twenty-eight days after birth might be allowed before an infant is accepted as having the same right to life as others."

On why abortion is less morally significant than killing a rat: "Rats are indisputably more aware of their surroundings, and more able to respond in purposeful and complex ways to things they like or dislike, than a fetus at ten or even thirty-two weeks gestation."

On why pigs, chickens and fish have more rights to life than unborn humans: "The calf, the pig, and the much-derided chicken come out well ahead of the fetus at any stage of pregnancy, while if we make the comparison with a fetus of less than three months, a fish would show more signs of consciousness."

On why infants aren't normal human beings with rights to life and liberty: "Characteristics like rationality, autonomy and self-consciousness...make a difference. Infants lack these characteristics. Killing them, therefore, cannot be equated with killing normal human beings."

In my opening statement I showed the profound connection between Singer's Darwinian atheism and his advocacy of infanticide and euthanasia. Remarkably Singer responded by saying he didn't come to debate his bioethical views! Rather, he wanted the debate to focus exclusively on the question of whether God exists or not. I didn't want this to be a debate in which Singer and I ended up talking on completely different subjects, so I engaged him on his chosen ground.

Even so, I was disappointed that Singer wouldn't stand up for the opinions that have made him famous, or infamous. Our topic resolution was broad enough to permit a discussion both of the existence of God and also of the social implications of the theist and the atheist positions. I view Singer's work as exploring the consequences of living in a truly secular society, devoid not only of the Christian God but also of Christian morality.

So while Christianity introduced into Western civilization the concept of dignity of human life, Singer explicitly says we have to get rid of this outdated concept. He contends that God is dead and we should recognize ourselves as Darwinian primates who enjoy no special status compared to the other animals. In the animal kingdom, after all, parents sometimes kill and even devour their offpsring. Singer argues that the West can learn from the other cultures like the Kalahari where children are routinely killed when they are unwanted, even when they are several years old.

Some of Singer's critics call him a Nazi and compare his proposals to Hitler's schemes for eliminating the unwanted, the unfit and the disabled. But as I note in the debate, Singer is no Hitler. He doesn't want state-sponsored killings. Rather, he wants the decision to kill to be made by you and me. Instead of government-conducted genocide, Singer favors free-market homicide.

Given the connection that Singer draws between atheism and child murder, using the former as his premise to recommend the latter, I wonder if our atheist friends are going to rush to embrace this guy as one of their heroes. Is Singer showing us where the road to complete secularism actually leads?

I'm not sure why atheists praise me so much. When my book What's So Great About Christianity was published, Skeptic magazine editor Michael Shermer called me a "first rate scholar" whose "thorough research and elegant prose have elevated him into the top ranks of those who champion liberty and individual responsibility." Shermer wrote of me that "although non-Christians and non-theists may disagree with some of his arguments, we ignore him at our peril." As for my Christianity book, "it takes the debate to a new level. Read it."

Then Christopher Hitchens, author of God Is Not Great, complimented me on the occasion of our first New York debate, saying I was a formidable debate opponent on any topic. Recently Hitchens told me and my wife that I am responsible for one of the big conversions in his life. He informed me about something about which I had no idea: following our debate on capitalism vs. socialism at Georgetown University more than a decade and a half ago, Hitchens said he abandoned socialism. "After that evening," Hitchens said, "I just stopped calling myself a socialist." I was too polite to speculate on what might follow for HItchens from our God v. atheism debates, but of course I was delighted to hear that I helped a friend find his way out of the dead-end maze of socialism.

The latest addition to my atheist fan club is Dan Barker, head of the Freedom From Religion Foundation. Barker is a former evangelical preacher who has become a hard-core atheist. Now he heads a group that I would describe as a kind of atheist ACLU (although why we need two such organizations remains a mystery). Basically Barker's group agitates to remove all vestiges of God and religion from American public life, what Barker terms an "absolute separation" of church and state. Recently I debated Barker at Harvard University, after which Barker wrote me to say that of the hundreds of opponents he has faced over the years, "you are clearly one of the best debaters I have encountered." Is he right? You can find out by watching the debate here.

The Harvard debate was sponsored by the Harvard Secular Society and moderated by Harvard's humanist chaplain Greg Epstein. Epstein is himself an atheist, and only at Harvard can we expect to find such a creature as an "atheist chaplain." The format of the debate was interesting: no lengthy opening statements, no formal rebuttals, etc. Rather, a group of Harvard students peppered both Barker and me with questions, and then we got to engage with each other. Our debate was lively and wide-ranging, covering such topics as the existence of God, science and religion, the relationship of theism to morality, and church and state. Following this debate, the student head of the Secular society told me that unlike any religious believer he had previously encountered, I had compelled him to re-think some of his basic positions.

I know that there are some atheists who will respond to my Harvard debate with their usual ritual of abuse and name-calling. In a way I sympathize with them. Never has a group so desperately sought an intellectual victory in these contests, and so far there are no signs that it will come. So the best these atheists can do is to call me arrogant. But even the atheists I debate seem to think that this arrogance is justified.

In reality, as people like Shermer and Hitchens who know me will testify, I'm not arrogant. I am, however, just a little tired of hearing the propaganda about how atheists are the champions of reason while religious believers are the ignorant practitioners of "blind faith." You can see why I relish taking on the atheists with their chosen weapons of reason and science and evidence, and showing that I can not only defend myself but also defeat them on their own terms. At this point the atheists are running out of capable opponents. Many atheists are reduced to what one of their number, the mathematician John Allen Paulos, terms "the argument of the red face and the raised voice."

Is there any doubt why Sam Harris seems to have changed his mind about debating me, and why Richard Dawkins is still hiding under his desk? How come these "brights" seem to have fled into the cover of darkness? Do any of the atheist organizations offer an annual Wimp award?

It's widely believed that Charles Darwin lost his faith when he discovered evolution. And many contemporary atheists proclaim themselves followers of Darwin in this sense. Michael Shermer, for instance, writes that he abandoned Christianity when he learned about evolution; finally he could see how there could be design--or the appearance of design--without a designer. Richard Dawkins writes that it was Darwin who finally made it possible to be an "intellectually fulfilled atheist."

In reality Darwin's atheism had little to do with his discovery of evolution. First of all Darwin was never a very devout Christian. He was raised as a nominal Anglican. It says something about Anglicanism in Britain that a lukewarm Christian like Darwin actually considered becoming a clergyman. What turned Darwin against Christianity, however, was two things.

First, several of his children either died or has chronic illnesses. This was probably heriditary, as Darwin himself suffered for most of his life from one ailment or the other. When Darwin's daughter Annie died at a young age, however, Darwin was inconsolable. Usually a man of the stiff upper lip, Darwin could not stop himself from weeping even in public. Darwin blamed God for Annie's untimely death. This was several years before Darwin published his Origin of Species.

After Annie's death, Darwin began to reflect morbidly on mortality, and during his process he recalled that his own famous grandfather Erasmus Darwin, as well as several other family members and friends, were unbelievers. Since Darwin saw them as good and respectable people, he angrily fulminated against the doctrine of eternal damnation, asking what kind of a God would consign good people to hell just because they refused to accept Christianity? The thought of all these people in hell filled Darwin with such revulsion that he completely jettisoned Christianity.

At the same time Darwin recognized that his theory of evolution was quite compatible with Christianity. When the American biologist Asa Gray wrote Darwin to say that his theory of evolution demonstrated how God created species, Darwin congratulated Gray for being the first one to see the point. In England, the preacher-poet Charles Kingsley argued for the compatibility with evolution and Christianity, and Darwin encouraged his efforts.

True, evolution is inconsistent with the six-day account of creation, but since the earliest days of Christianity, Christian writers like Augustine have had no problem with interpreting the first book of Genesis allegorically. After all the Hebrew word can mean "day" but it can also mean "period" or "epoch." Only a small segment of Christians--mostly fundamentalists--are uncompromisingly wedded to the six-day account.

Evolution, however, says nothing about who or what created the universe. Evolution doesn't even say anything about how life got started. Evolution merely describes how one life form gave rise to another. Somewhat comically writers like Dawkins and Daniel Dennett argue that evolution is a kind of master key that unlocks the universe. It isn't hard to see that atheism is getting in the way of clear reasoning here. If you doubt this, go to Youtube and watch again my debate with Daniel Dennett. Unfortunately I cannot also direct you to my debate with Dawkins, since Timorous Richard doesn't want to get into the arena with me.

Darwin lost his faith over the "problem of evil," an issue that has been coming up in my recent debates, and one that I intend to address in future blog postings. It's time to set at rest, however, the old myth that evolution is a scientific refutation of theism in general or Christianity in particular. Darwin himself knew it was not so, even if his dimmer acolytes haven't figured that out yet.

Last night in Orange County I had one of my liveliest debates with atheist Christopher Hitchens and the Jewish radio host Dennis Prager. The debate--a sort of Christian-Atheist-Jew slugfest--was held at the Bat Yahm synagogue in Newport Beach. There was a sellout crowd of 1,500, with about 400 turned away.

The debate was unusual in that it involved not two but three different perspectives. Hitchens was particularly harsh in his exchanges with Prager, at one point accusing Prager of covering up for anti-Semitism. My exchanges with Hitchens were consistently sharp but also mutually respectful, and later Hitchens told me that I am one of the most formidable debaters that he has ever faced. I predict this debate will generate huge interest when it is posted on the web. After the debate Hitchens joined my wife and me at the bar where we downed two bottles of Pinot Noir and solved many of the world's problems.

Since our debate focused on God as understood from a Christian, Jewish and atheist perspective, missing from the event was a Muslim perspective. This is a pity, because one staple item of atheist rhetoric is the equation of Islamic extremism with Christianity. In my cross-examination I pressed Hitchens on this issue, and will let viewers watch our exchange for themselves and make up their own minds.

We find the equation between "Islamic fundamentalism" and "Christian fundamentalism" not only among the new atheists but also in the popular culture. Several weeks ago Christiane Amanpour of CNN did her special on "God's Warriors." The premise: The Abrahamic religions all lead to extremism. So Amanpour did three segments, one on Islamic extremism, one on Jewish extremism and one on Christian extremism.

Striking to the viewer, however, was the strained attempt to equate the three. Islamic extremism featured the 9/11 attacks, the Bali bombing, the London bombing, the Madrid bombing, and the list goes on. What about Christian extremism? Well, there was Christiane Amanpour in desperate search for the Christian Bin Laden, the Christian Al Qaeda, the Christian Hamas, the Christian Hezbollah, the Christian state currently run along the lines of post-Khomeini Iran.

Poor Christiane came up empty handed. So she was forced to locate marginal groups which would be repudiated by 99.9 percent of Christians and try to pass them off as the Christian equivalent of the Islamic radicals. I was especially interested to find out that there is an old guy in the hills of Montana who wants to blow up the world in the name of Jesus. Too bad he's broke and doesn't have any teeth. Still, one day he hopes to get a job and carry out his nefarious plans. I suppose this is the closest thing to a Christian Bin Laden. We are all supposed to be very afraid of this man!

One of the new atheists very cleverly termed 9/11 a "faith based initiative." But the witticism conceals an intellectual sleight-of-hand. Bush merely wants the government to be able to support faith-based charities on the same basis as it supports secular charities. What happened at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon seven years ago can hardly be placed in the same intellectual category.

Of late some of the new atheists are backing off from their fraudulent analogy between Islamic extremism and Christianity. This is a powerful blow to the new atheism, because so much of its relevance came from its ability to surf on the wave of current events and interpret modern terrorism as the expression of a generic religious impulse. In reality Bin Laden is more accurately compared to an atheist despot like Pol Pot. I realize the analogy is not entirely fair--to Bin Laden! After all, Bin Laden's death toll (several thousand killed over a dozen years) doesn't come closer to Pol Pot's 2 million killed in the space of three years.

Besides, Pol Pot was a Little League atheist compared to Mao and Stalin, whose death toll was in the tens of millions. When it comes to mass murder in the modern era, Islamic radicalism simply cannot keep up with atheism.

We've all heard of Black History Month, but have you heard about Atheist Bashing Week? It was Atheist Bashing Week for me as I did three debates over the past seven days with a new crop of leading atheists.

First on Monday April 21 I debated philosopher Walter Sinnott-Armstrong at Dartmouth before a large crowd. The 500-seat auditorium was full so they used an overflow room, which had hundreds more watching on a big screen. This was a scholarly debate in which Sinnott-Armstrong distanced himself from what he portrayed as the crude atheism of Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris and Christopher Hitchens. Against this village atheism, well represented among atheists who comment on this blog, Sinnott-Armstrong offered a more dignified atheism that he said recognizes the accomplishments of Christianity. In one revealing moment he event said schools and colleges should teach students that the crimes of Christianity, like the Inquisition and the Salem witch trials, pale before the crimes of atheist regimes like those of Mao, Stalin and Pol Pot. Overall this was an elevated debate, one of the more high-toned ones I've participated in.

Then on Tuesday April 22 I debated Dan Barker of the Freedom from Religion Foundation at Harvard. Here the audience was smaller, because Harvard is launching into final exams. But the debate was very sharp and lively. We didn't do the traditional opening statements followed by rebuttals and cross-examination and so on. Rather, a student panel posed questions to both of us, and we each answered, with the other person than having a chance to reply. This format suits me very well, and I found myself being able to develop arguments about epistemology and science more fully than in other formats. Later the atheist students who organized the debate complimented me on my performance, and one said that I had made numerous arguments that he had never thought of, and that were compelling him to rethink (although not abandon) his atheism.

Finally on Friday April 25 I debated the controversial Princeton philosopher Peter Singer at Biola University. This was the biggest event, with more than 2,500 in attendance. Since Biola is a Christian campus, the majority of those present were believers, although atheists were represented too. The Christian students treated Singer extremely well, which is not always how theists are received when they show up on secular campuses. I went first and focused on Singer's extreme views, such as his proposal that parents be allowed to kill their children up to the age of 28 days. Singer also thinks America and the West can learn from non-Western societies, not to mention ancient Greece and Rome, where children were routinely killed at much higher ages. Oddly enough this champion of infanticide and euthanasia also favors animal rights!

If this seems like a strange combination, the apparent paradox is resolved when you discover Singer's logic. Singer argues that we human beings are Darwinian primates. We are on a continuum with the other animals. It is Christianity, Singer charges, that came into the world and elevated human beings on a pedestal. It is Christianity that proclaimed that man is in the image of God, and that creation is for man's benefit. These ideas gave rise to the special dignity of man and human rights and moral principles such as "It is wrong to deliberately take human life." Singer thinks that now that we know God is dead, we should get rid of these principles and replace them with utilitarian considerations more in keeping with our animal nature. In a sense Singer is taking up Nietzsche's challenge--to rid our civilization not only of the Christian God but also of Christian morality--and his homicidal conclusions, which many people find horrific, are only a working-out of his atheist logic.

Surprisingly Singer didn't want to talk about any of this during our debate. In a way I can see why: who wants to defend killing three-week old infants in the presence of a largely-Christian audience! Instead Singer wanted to argue about why a just God allows suffering in the world, not only the suffering of children but also of animals. I didn't want our debate to be like two ships passing in the night, so I happily engaged Singer on those issues. He is a lucid and gentlemanly debater, and he complimented me for eschewing Bible citations in favor of reason and logic and history and science in developing my arguments. I praised him for having the guts to come to a Christian campus and debate me, quite a contrast from the invertebrate Richard Dawkins who seems terrified to take me on even at his native Oxford.

All these debates will soon be up on the web. I have now debated six leading atheists--Christopher Hitchens, Michael Shermer, Daniel Dennett, Walter Sinnott-Armstrong, Dan Barker, and Peter Singer. Hitchens and I already have a couple of rematches scheduled, and Singer has agreed to a second debate on the East Coast. I am also planning a debate next year with Harvard cognitive psychologist Steven Pinker. The mathematician John Allen Paulos, author of the new book Irreligion, has approached me about debating and we are looking for the appropriate venue. Over the next few years I am hoping to assemble the most extensive existing archive of "God v. Atheism" debates. Many churches are already showing these debates in order to educate and instruct believers. I wonder if atheist groups will have the confidence to air them at their conferences.

So far no takers though. And my challenges to Dawkins to step into the arena have only met with pathetic rationalization: "Richard is simply too busy and smart to debate you Dinesh." Busy doing what besides being caught with his pants down by Ben Stein? And I guess he's smart because he doesn't want to risk further embarassing himself and destroying his public reputation! Won't it be hilarious if the "party of faith" is unafraid of opposing arguments while the "party of reason" cannot withstand the arguments of its critics? This is what Henry James might describe as a most interesting turning of the screw.