Even those who agree that morality stands independent of theism may harbor the thought that life on earth is followed by an afterlife in which good people abide forever in a place of joy, while others endure everlasting suffering in a place of doom. In other words, even if God doesn’t create morality, God distributes rewards and punishments in accord with moral precepts. Doesn’t that possibility provide a reason for adhering to ethical guidelines?
This line of thought does not even require confidence that God exists. Consider the reasoning offered by the French mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal. In his famous wager he argues that if you believe in God and God exists, then you attain heavenly bliss; if you believe in God and God doesn’t exist, little is lost. On the other hand, if you don’t believe in God and God exists, then you are doomed to the torments of damnation; if you don’t believe in God and God doesn’t exist, little is gained. Thus belief in God is the safest strategy.
1Pascal, however, failed to consider that a different kind of God might exist: for example, one who wishes us to hold only those beliefs supported by the available evidence. If such a God exists, then in the absence of evidence,
not believing in God is the safest strategy.
Lacking knowledge about God, we do not even know whether God approves of any religious commitment. Perhaps God doesn’t wish to be worshipped at public services or prayed to at times of hardship. Perhaps God rewards those who shun such activities. Indeed, God may favor those who meditate privately, if at all, and who, without appealing for God’s help, display the fortitude to persevere in the face of difficulties. In that case avoiding ritual and prayer would be the wisest strategy. In sum, without more specific information about the intentions of God, all bets are off.
Yet many people, especially adherents to Christianity and Islam, may persist in believing in heaven and hell. Are these concepts viable?
They raise many puzzles. Why should finite wickedness deserve infinite punishment? Why should finite goodness deserve infinite reward? Is heaven reserved for adherents of only one religion? Are all other believers assigned to hell? What is the fate of those who lived before the development of any particular religion? Are they condemned to hell for not believing in a religion that had not yet been established? What about infants who die? How are they to be judged? What about beloved dogs, cats, and other creatures who have enriched the lives of so many persons? Might some of these animals merit a place in heaven? If not, how joyful can heaven be for those deprived of their faithful companions?
This last question is explored in “The Hunt,” a provocative episode of the groundbreaking television series
The Twilight Zone. An old hillbilly named Simpson and his hound dog, Rip, appear to drown in a backwoods pool. When they awaken the next morning, they are invisible to others, and soon Simpson realizes he and Rip have died. We then see them walk toward the local graveyard, come to an unfamiliar fence, follow it, and arrive at a gate. The gatekeeper explains to Simpson that he is at the entrance to heaven. He is welcome, but Rip is not; no dogs are allowed. Simpson becomes infuriated, declaring that he would rather stay with Rip than go to heaven, and man and dog walk away together. Soon they meet an angel sent to accompany them to heaven. Simpson protests that he won’t go without Rip, and the angel tells Simpson that Rip is welcome in heaven. The angel explains that if Simpson had left Rip and gone through the gate, he would have made a terrible mistake. The gatekeeper had lied: the gate was the entrance to hell. Why had Rip been excluded? He would have smelled the brimstone and warned Simpson away. As the angel says, “You see, Mr. Simpson, a man, well, he’ll walk right into Hell with both eyes open—but even the Devil can’t fool a dog!”
2The effectiveness of this story depends in part on our being able to envision hell but not heaven. For when we realize that Simpson nearly made the mistake of going to hell, we can easily imagine the horrors that awaited him. We are all familiar with the nature of misery. Who among us has not known sorrow or suffering? Most have experienced anguish and agony. Too many have suffered tortures of mind and body, probably worse than any that could be found in hell.
Heaven, however, defies description. What events take place there? How do individuals relate to each other? What activities occupy them? A familiar supposition is that harps are played, but how long can harp music suffice for felicity? We understand the happiness that Rip brings Simpson, but how does it compare to the joys Simpson would experience in heaven? Not knowing, we are comfortable with Simpson rejecting heaven and staying with Rip.
To see additional difficulties involved in grasping the concept of heaven, consider the case of Willie Mays, the spectacular baseball player whose greatest joy was to play the game he loved. What does heaven offer him? Presumably bats, balls, and gloves are not found there, so what does Willie Mays do? Assuming he is the same person who made that spectacular catch in the 1954 World Series, how can the delights that supposedly await him in heaven match those he knew on Earth?
Furthermore, some of Mays’s fans found great enjoyment in watching him play baseball. Won’t they be denied this pleasure in heaven? Whatever heaven may offer them, they will miss watching Mays in action.
The problems mount. Consider two individuals, Leslie and Robin, and suppose that Leslie looks forward to spending eternity with Robin, whereas Robin looks forward to being forever free of Leslie. Assuming they retain their fundamental likes and dislikes, how can they both attain heavenly bliss?
More questions arise in attempting to understand the supposition that our bodies will be resurrected. Will they appear as they did when we were ten, forty, or seventy years old? If a person suffered from diabetes, will the resurrected body suffer from the disease? In what sense would a resurrected person be identical to the person who died? If a ship is destroyed and an identical one built, the second is different from the first. Similarly, if a person is destroyed and an identical one created, the second is different from the first.
One way to avoid these difficulties is to suppose that after death what survives are not bodies but souls. Thus although Simpson appeared to have a body, in essence he was only a soul. Was Rip also a soul, or do dogs not have souls? Can two souls inhabit a single body, or is the arrangement only one soul per person?
What, after all, is a soul? Supposedly, when added to a body, a soul converts that body into a person. Does the soul itself think and feel? In that case, it is already a person and needs no body. If it doesn’t think and feel, how does it start doing so when it enters a body?
This problem can be avoided by recognizing that some bodies can think and feel. They do so as a result of possessing brains, which are physical objects and not immaterial souls. Yet brains cease functioning. People die.
Given all the bewildering questions that beset any attempt to provide a persuasive or even a coherent account of survival in a next world, we conclude that speculation about such obscure matters does not provide a reliable foundation for acting morally. If one is to be found, we need to look further.
