Stanley and Livingston had been observing the picturesque clearing for over two weeks, from the safety of their makeshift hideout.
‘We’ve seen no one at all,’ said Stanley, ‘and the clearing has not deteriorated in any way. Now will you finally admit that you were wrong: no gardener tends this site.’
‘My dear Stanley,’ replied Livingston, ‘remember I did allow that it might be an invisible gardener.’
‘But this gardener has made not even the quietest of noises nor disturbed so much as a single leaf. Thus, I maintain, it is no gardener at all.’
‘My invisible gardener,’ continued Livingston, ‘is also silent and intangible.’
Stanley was exasperated. ‘Damn it! What the hell is the difference between a silent, invisible, intangible gardener and no gardener at all?’
‘Easy,’ replied the serene Livingston. ‘One looks after gardens. The other does not.’
‘Dr Livingston, I presume,’ said Stanley, with a sigh, ‘will therefore have no objection if I swiftly dispatch him to a soundless, odourless, invisible and intangible heaven.’ From the murderous look in Stanley’s eye, he was not entirely joking.
Source: ‘Theology and Falsification’ by Antony Flew, republished in New Essays in Philosophical Theology, edited by A. Flew and A. MacIntyre (SCM Press, 1955)
The force of this parable depends on the reader assuming, with Stanley, that Livingston is an irrational fool. He is persisting with an opinion for which there is no evidence. What is worse, to maintain his belief in the gardener, he has made the very idea of this mysterious being so flimsy as to dissolve it into thin air. What is left of a gardener after you have removed all that is visible and tangible about him? For sure, Stanley cannot prove that such a green-fingered ghost does not exist, but he can rightly ask what purpose it serves to continue believing in something so nebulous.
Such, it is argued, is the case with God. Just as Livingston sees the hand of the gardener in the beauty of the clearing, so many religious people see the hand of God in the beauty of nature. Perhaps, at first sight, it is reasonable to hypothesise the existence of an all-powerful, benign creator of this marvellously complex world. But like Stanley and Livingston, we have more than first impressions to go on. And our continuing observations seem to strip away, one by one, the characteristics that give this God life.
First, the world runs itself according to physical laws. God is not required to turn on the rain or raise the sun each day. But, says the Livingstonian believer, it was God who lit the blue touch paper and set the universe in motion.
Then, however, we notice that nature is far from gentle and kind. There is terrible suffering and downright evil in the world. Where is the good God now? Ah, the believer maintains, God made things as good as possible, but human sin can mess things up.
But then even the blameless suffer and when they cry out for help, no God answers. Ah, comes the reply – as their God retreats further and further into the shadows – the good that comes of this suffering is not in this life, but in the life to come.
And what are we finally left with? A God who leaves no trace, makes no sound and interferes not one jot in the progress of the universe. A few miracles are claimed here and there, but even most religious believers don’t seriously believe in them. Other than that, God is absent. We do not see as much as his fingernail in nature, let alone his hand.
What then is the difference between this God and no god at all? Is it not as foolish to maintain that he exists as it is to insist that a gardener tends the clearing Livingston and Stanley discovered? If God is to be more than a word or a hope, surely we need some sign that he is active in the world?
See also
| 3. | The Indian and the ice |
| 24. | Squaring the circle |
| 61 | Mozzarella moon |
| 78. | Gambling on God |