Randal Rauser's Blog, page 173

Atheism and Christian Hospitality: A conversation with Father Ron

Yesterday evening I appeared on the radio show Amplify with Father Ron Lengwin (on NewsRadio 1020 KDKA in Pittsburgh) to talk about Is the Atheist My Neighbor? This is my second time on Father Ron’s show, and I really enjoyed the interview / conversation. Father Ron has an affable, easy-going style and asked good questions based on a close reading of the book. Moreover, with a two hour show (over one hour of solid interview) there is more than enough time to go into details on various issues.

Why I don’t like agnostics calling themselves atheists

These days, a growing number of self-described “atheists” describe their cognitive state not as the belief that God doesn’t exist, but rather as the lack of belief that God exists.

The problems begin with the fact that this definition effectively collapses atheism into agnosticism, and that represents a deviation from historical usage.

Here’s Paul Edwards from the entry “atheism” in the Encyclopedia of Philosophy (1967) which remains a standard reference work in the field:

“According to the most usual definition, an ‘atheist’ is a person who maintains that there is no God, that is, that the sentence ‘God exists’ expresses a false proposition. In contrast, an agnostic maintains that it is not known or cannot be known whether there is a God, that is, whether the sentence “God exists” expresses a true proposition.”

Edwards then adds:

“On our definition, an ‘atheist’ is a person who rejects belief in God, regardless of whether or not his reason for the rejection is the claim that ‘God exists’ expresses a false proposition.”

The point Edwards is making here is that a person could also be considered an atheist if he/she considers discourse about God to be meaningless. Thus, an atheist is a person who believes either that the sentence “God exists” is false or meaningless. And this is quite distinct from agnosticism which states that the truth of the sentence “God exists” is meaningful but that it is not known and perhaps cannot be known.

While the use of the term “atheism” to apply to agnostics may represent a change in usage, one might reply: So what? The times they are a changin’. The meanings of words change all the time.

That is certainly true. Sixty years ago Bing Crosby sang “Gay Love” without raising an eyebrow among his most conservative fans. But times change, and the meanings of words often change with them. If “gay” can morph from “happy” to “homosexual”, why can’t “atheism” expand to encompass agnosticism?

Of course, it can. My problem is that I believe many people today are exploiting confusion between these two definitions for perceived social benefit. Perhaps I can unpack this claim with an illustration.

Imagine that you meet a fellow who describes himself as a combat veteran to fellow guests at a cocktail party. Impressive, right? So you ask him where he served in battle. And he replies, “I didn’t. I served for awhile in the national guard and during that time I participated in several weekend training exercises.” You look quizzical so he adds, “You see, ‘combat veteran’ can be used to refer to anyone who has served in the military or reserve forces and who has had any training in that capacity.”

Of course, this isn’t how “combat veteran” has traditionally been defined. To be sure, you might concede that the term could assume that broader meaning over time. The problem is that it looks like this fellow is seeking to exploit the confusion between the established meaning, and this novel, much broader meaning. In short, he’s trying to give folks the impression that he’s seen combat while retreating to the milquetoast definition the minute he is pressed for details.

In my experience, this seems to be the common approach of those who adopt this new meaning of “atheism”. They call themselves an atheist, thereby seeking to bask in the glow of the subversive, countercultural resonance of the term. But when pressed for details to explain and defend their belief that God doesn’t exist, they beat a hasty retreat to the novel, milquetoast definition of the term.

So here’s my bit of advice to agnostics who want to call themselves atheists. By all means, call yourself an atheist if you like. Just make sure that your audience knows the cognitive state which you are applying to yourself applies equally to sleeping babies, small children, and comatose patients.

The Contemptuous Atheist

Simon Blackburn begins his essay “Religion and Respect” by recalling the time he was invited to a Jewish colleague’s house for dinner:

“during the course of the meal, some kind of observance was put in train, and it turned out I was expected to play along–put on a hat, or some such. I demurred, saying that I felt uncomfortable doing something that might be the expression of some belief that I do not hold, or of joining a ‘fellowship’ with which I felt no special community and with which I would not have any particular fellow-feeling beyond whatever I feel for human beings in general. I was assured that what it would signify, if I went through with the observance, was not that I shared the world views or beliefs of my host, or wished myself to identify uniquely with some particular small subset of humanity, but only that I respected his beliefs, or perhaps his stance. I replied that in that case, equally, I could not in conscience, do what was required.

“The evening was strained after that. But, I argued to myself, why should I ‘respect’ belief systems that I do not share? I would not be expected to respect the beliefs of flat-Earthers or those of the people who believed that the Hale-Bopp comet was a recycling facility for dead Californians and killed themselves in order to join it.” (“Religion and Respect,” in Philosophers without Gods, 179).

Blackburn seems quite proud of himself here. I, on the other hand, am appalled.

To put it bluntly, Blackburn’s proud little stance is based on nothing more than contempt for his hosts. And if you have such contempt for a host that you cannot respect their requests (to the extent that those requests do not violate your moral beliefs or require extraordinary effort), then you shouldn’t accept their invitation in the first place.

In this case Blackburn’s hosts asked him to “put on a hat, or some such”, a request that provided no violation of his moral beliefs and no extraordinary effort. His refusal to comply exhibited contempt for his hosts.

Even worse, Blackburn then spins his contempt as a moral stance against religious beliefs. That is nothing more than self-delusion.

Consider another norm of many homes: the removal of outdoor shoes.

In the United States people commonly wear their outdoor shoes within their homes. The norm is quite different in many Canadian homes where the expectation is to leave outdoor shoes at the door. And it is definitely different in homes of east Asian ethnicity. So imagine, for a moment, that Simon Blackburn is visiting the home of a Japanese family and as he strides through the front door the hosts ask him to remove his shoes and put on a pair of slippers. Blackburn refuses, insisting that his shoes are comfortable and perfectly clean. And he doesn’t want to convey respect of cultural norms different from the ones he holds.

Would he be a hero in that case? Not in my view. On the contrary, he would be exhibiting that contempt for his hosts which I find reprehensible. As I said, if you can’t abide by the non-extraordinary, non-moral requests of your hosts, then don’t accept the invitation. That principle applies whether those requests are rooted in cultural, religious, or familial beliefs and/or practices, or some combination thereof.

Upcoming media appearances for Is the Atheist My Neighbor?

This morning I did an interview (my fourth) on “Unbelievable” with Justin Brierley. My co-guest was Alom Shaha who authored The Young Atheist’s Handbook in 2012. The show will (probably) be broadcast on September 12th.

Tomorrow I’m going to be interviewed on Dale Tuggy’s podcast Trinities. I’m a big fan of Dale’s podcast. Dale really goes into depth on issues and is thoughtful, courteous and challenging as a host. I’m not sure when that interview will be posted but I’ll keep you posted.

Finally, this Sunday night (Aug. 30th) I’m going to appear on the radio show Amplify with Father Ron Lengwin. This will be my second time on Father Ron’s show. (I was previously on talking about my book What on Earth do we Know About Heaven?) Father Ron’s show runs 9-11 pm (eastern) and I’m going to be the guest for the entire duration of the show. So that should give us lots of time to dig deep into the issues.

A Slap of Persuasion? A Review of Os Guinness, Fool’s Talk: Recovering the Art of Christian Persuasion

Os Guinness, Fool’s Talk: Recovering the Art of Christian Persuasion. (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2015).

Os Guinness’s latest book, Fool’s Talk, is devoted to a very important topic: apologetic persuasion. And the time couldn’t be better for such a book: While contemporary Christian apologetic arguments have attained an impressive level of sophistication, all too often the apologists who use them are comparatively lacking in persuasive, rhetorical ability. Enter Guinness to introduce “the art of speaking to people who, for whatever reason, are indifferent or resistant to what we have to say.” (18)

The book is written in Guinness’s crackling prose which calls to mind the writing of two of his greatest influences, G.K. Chesterton and C.S. Lewis. It also includes many rich seams of argument such as an intriguing discussion of the power of laughter which culminates in this provocative observation: “The dynamics of the cross of Jesus are closer to those of comedy than tragedy.” (77)

In addition, Guinness also distributes many nuggets of wisdom throughout the text like this bit of good sense: “Very few people are strictly and consistently logical, so to catch their small inconsistencies is merely to annoy them and put them off.” (121)

Despite those undeniable virtues, my overall response to Fool’s Talk can be summarized in one word: disappointment. This disappointment is traceable to two shortcomings: (1) a lack of practical guidance in the methods of persuasion; (2) an unseemly, abrasive and dismissive tone toward one’s interlocutors. In the remainder of this review I’ll expand on these two points.

In search of the means of persuasion

Satisfaction is inextricably linked to expectation. Before reading Fool’s Talk I was anticipating a text that would provide significant practical guidance in how to become more persuasive in engaging with others. Unfortunately, save for the above-mentioned occasional nuggets of good sense, I was largely disappointed.

The problems begin in chapter two as Guinness launches into a bold critique of the use of technique which he derides as “the devil’s bait for the Christian persuader today….” (30) While I share Guinness’s concern over the abuse of technique, I find his attitude to be far too dismissive here. We may agree with Guinness that “there is no McTheory when it comes to persuasion” (32) while still pillaging the wisdom of the Egyptians in fields like persuasion psychology and communication theory. It would have been far more helpful if Guinness had provided more guidance in how to appropriate the insights of these fields judiciously so as to communicate apologetic arguments in a more winsome and effective manner.

In the moments that Guinness did broach concrete questions of method, his advice often struck me as vague and unhelpful. For example he warned, “The lost art of Christian persuasion certainly includes a method, but a method that is overwhelmed and utterly lost in the message that shapes it and the Master whom it serves.” (45) To be honest, I’m not even sure what this means, let alone how this can productively inform my real world interactions with others.

Similar problems were evident in the fourth chapter which takes up the central theme of Christian persuasion being informed by the way of the cross. Guinness envisions here the theme of Christ’s weakness (the “fool”) being vindicated in power and thereby revealed as the “jester”:

“The fool maker is the person who (once again) is not a fool at all, but who is prepared to be seen and treated as a fool, so that from the position of derided folly, he or she may be able to bounce back and play the jester, addressing truth to power….” (72)

There are some profound, architectonic themes being explored in this chapter. But once again, I found the end result still left the apologist with little concrete guidance in how to become more persuasive. One of Guinness’s favored examples of a masterful jester is found in Erasmus’ work In Praise of Folly. But few of us will ever approach Erasmus’ rhetorical brilliance, nor does Guinness provide much guidance as to how we might begin to close that gap.

A most unpersuasive tone

If the lack of practical guidance into the means of persuasion was disappointing, the book’s abrasive and alienating tone toward others was deeply ironic and counterproductive to the book’s stated purpose. The problem here, in short, is that Guinness tends to caricature the views of others and present them in the worst light. And to be frank, it is hard to think of a more effective way to undermine the goal of persuasion than engaging in this kind of behavior.

Strong words, I know, so I’m going to turn now to providing several examples of these rhetorical slights.

Consider, first, Guinness’ scathing dismissal of postmodernism, a movement which, so Guinness claims, is “inherently hypocritical” (193). As Guinness puts it, postmodernists say that “truth” to nothing more than a “compliment we pay to claims and ideas that we agree with….” (194) No doubt one can find postmodernists who have said things like this (e.g. Richard Rorty), but there is no justification for painting the whole incredibly diverse movement (if it even can be considered a “movement”) with the same brush. I can only assume that Guinness is simply ignorant of the work of scholars like James K.A. Smith (e.g. Who’s Afraid of Postmodernism? Taking Derrida, Lyotard, and Foucault to Church (Baker, 2006)). Apart from ignorance, there simply is no defense for such an uncharitable and unqualified dismissal.

Next, consider Guinness’s treatment of theological “liberals” and “Emergent Evangelicals”. Guinness sets up his discussion of theological liberals against the backdrop of Enlightenment skeptics who have foolishly abandoned revealed truth in favor of popular opinion: “So ‘one can no longer believe’ was the cry of the chronological snobs and the techno-idolaters as they discarded whatever was not the ‘latest and greatest, and the newer and truer.'” (218)

The problem with such rhetoric is that it utterly fails to grapple with the fact that everybody is a liberal (or progressive) relative to some other group. For example, most Christians today differ from their forbears of two or three centuries ago in how they read the Bible on topics like slavery, corporal punishment, the age of the earth, and the status of women. In short, compared to an earlier time, we’re all liberals. So how liberal must one get before one is derided as a “chronological snob and techno-idolater”?

Guinness extends his derision to “Emergent Evangelicals” who “have emerged and aged until now only nostalgia or denial allows them to still claim that they are emergent.” In fact, he adds, emergent evangelicals are simply “a recycled Protestant liberalism with the same feeble hold on the Bible and truth….” (224)

I find this kind of tone deeply offensive. The number of Christian leaders — theologians, pastors, etc. — who would identify as emergent is very broad and diverse. And there is absolutely no justification for dismissing all who share that affiliation as having a “feeble hold on the Bible and truth”.

Guinness’s attitude toward “liberals” and “Emergent Evangelicals” is well summarized in a passage he quotes from Thomas Oden. In the passage in question, Oden replied to the popular cry of the 1960s liberal “Don’t trust anyone over thirty” by countering “Don’t trust anyone under three hundred.” (224) That’s a nice bit of rhetoric, perhaps, but that’s all it is. To return to the examples I cited above, do you really want to limit your opinions on topics like slavery, corporal punishment, the age of the earth, and the status of women to 300 plus year old theologians? With this attitude Guinness adopts a Luddite chronological snobbery in reverse which is no better than that of his all-too-trendy opponents.

As Guinness puts it, there is apparently an inverse relationship between theological change and Christian unfaithfulness: “the further the revisionists go, and the more extreme they become, the more disloyal they are to Jesus and the more damaging they become to the Christian faith.” (225) I’m sure Christian reformers like William Wilberforce and Martin Luther King Jr. heard exactly that kind of conservative rhetoric as they made their bold entreaties for radical theological, social, and economic change. In short, Guinness’s language here is nothing more than bully rhetoric for defending the present form of conservative doctrine, whatever that may be.

Next, consider how Guinness approaches all those who doubt the nature, providence, and/or existence of God (a diverse group that includes everyone from the committed new atheists to the struggling Christian). Here is how Guinness sets it up:

“Faith desires to let God be God. Sin has framed God, whether by the ultimate insults that he, the creator of all things, does not exist, or that he, the white-hot holy One, is responsible for the evil and suffering that humans have introduced into his good creation. So God’s name must be cleared and his existence and character brought to the fore beyond question. Thus ‘Hallowed be thy name’ is our prayer and the defense of that name is our burning motive in apologetics.” (54-55)

Guinness concludes, “In short, so long as sin frames God, those who love God have a job to do in the world. We are defenders of the one we know and love.” (55) Note the absolute, stark, binary opposition of this passage. Either you accept God or you sin. It’s just that simple.

Except that it isn’t. I have known many people on that spectrum from the new atheist straight through to the doubting Christian who struggled with the existence and/or nature of God. One example that I’ve invoked on several occasions in my books is Bob Jyono. At one time he was a faithful Catholic. But that changed when he learned that the local priest had raped his daughter in his house over several years. Jyono’s faith never recovered. Is his loss of faith a manifestation of sin? What about Mother Teresa’s famous doubts peppered through her posthumously published journals? Was that sin too?

Finally, consider Guinness’s treatment of the “hostile atheist”: “to a hostile atheist, mention of God at the start of a conversation is like a red rag to a bull, and invites a snort and a pawing of the ground.” (33) While I agree that some atheists can be very angry and aggressive toward Christianity, this strikes me as a very demeaning and uncharitable metaphor and one that is likely to be anything but persuasive for the audience Guinness allegedly wants to reach.

At one point in the book, Guinness observes that hypocrisy is second only to the problem of evil as a purported basis for atheism (190). I wouldn’t call Guinness hypocritical, but I do believe his abrasive tone is deeply inconsistent with his stated goal of persuasion.

Inconsistent, and ironic, and so very disappointing.

Thanks to InterVarsity Press for a review copy of the book.

* * *

If this review was helpful to you please consider upvoting it on Amazon.com. (And if it wasn’t helpful, then please consider downvoting it!)

Stephen Colbert on providence and the problem of suffering

Stephen Colbert is one of the funniest and smartest comics/entertainers around. He was always engaging, thought-provoking, and hilarious playing his satirical conservative pundit on The Colbert Report. And he promises to carry that same brilliance into his new role in network late night in a couple weeks.

Last week GQ published a fascinating profile on Colbert titled “The Late, Great Stephen Colbert” which included many intriguing and thoughtful moments. Perhaps the high point (or, if you prefer, deepest point) is found in Colbert’s reflection on the tragic death of his father and brother when he was a boy. As he puts it, in coming to terms with that loss, “I love the thing that I most wish had not happened.”

The interviewer, Joel Lovell, then observes:

“I asked him if he could help me understand that better, and he described a letter from Tolkien in response to a priest who had questioned whether Tolkien’s mythos was sufficiently doctrinaire, since it treated death not as a punishment for the sin of the fall but as a gift. “Tolkien says, in a letter back: ‘What punishments of God are not gifts?’ ” Colbert knocked his knuckles on the table. “ ‘What punishments of God are not gifts?’ ” he said again. His eyes were filled with tears. “So it would be ungrateful not to take everything with gratitude. It doesn’t mean you want it. I can hold both of those ideas in my head.”

Is Jeff Lowder a philosopher?

Several months ago I blocked John Loftus from commenting at my blog and I resolved not to respond any further to his asinine mud slinging. However, I do find the need to respond in this instance, not to Loftus’ attacks on myself, but rather on Jeff Lowder. As you probably know, Lowder has been a leader in the internet infidels community for twenty years and he currently blogs at The Secular Outpost. Not only is he a first-rate thinker, but he also consistently conducts himself in an exemplary manner, engaging his interlocutors with courtesy and proper decorum.

Despite Lowder’s intellect and admirable character — or perhaps, because of them — Loftus has engaged in a series of increasingly bizarre attacks on Lowder, repeatedly charging him with (among other things) falsely claiming to be a philosopher. You can find a good synopsis of this sorry display in Richard Carrier’s article “John Loftus on Jeff Lowder & Being a Philosopher.” Carrier helpfully links to (and briefly rebuts) Loftus’ many bizarre rants against Lowder whilst providing a helpful discussion of the use of terms like “philosopher”.

With that as an introduction, in this article I want to add my two cents in defense of Jeff. To that end I’m going to make three points.

First, being a good philosopher is important, but being a good (and wise) person is more important. And Jeff Lowder is a good (and wise) person .

The difference between Loftus and Jeff could not be greater in this regard. Loftus acts in a juvenile, petty manner. Through a series of posts (which, as noted, you can find linked in Carrier’s article), he engages in a series of attacks against Jeff which are so off-the-wall and poorly argued that they’d make Donald Trump blush. Jeff’s response, appropriately enough, has been silence. He wisely recognizes that there is little to be gained in slinging mud back.

But while Jeff’s response is indeed wise, it isn’t easy. When a foolish person is talking trash about you and doing so in a highly public, visible manner, of course you want to respond. It takes a truly laudable disciple to restrain oneself from responding to such unjustified attacks.

This attests not only to Jeff’s wisdom, but also as I said to his good character. Jeff always strives to model civil exchange in the all too brutish and crude realm of the blogosphere. And in this regard, his silence has spoken volumes.

Second, a philosopher is identified by interest and ability, and Jeff displays both.

Loftus has repeatedly insisted that Jeff Lowder isn’t a philosopher because Jeff has a degree in computer science rather than philosophy. Apparently, in Loftus’ world a person needs a terminal degree in philosophy to be counted as a philosopher.

Frankly, that’s exactly as silly as thinking that one needs to have a terminal degree in German to be called a German-speaker. One’s status as a German speaker is properly gauged not by counting degrees in German but rather by demonstrating the ability to speak in German. In other words, if you can and do speak German, you’re a German speaker, period.

I am reminded at this point of the famous Indian mathematician Srinivasa Ramanujan.  Despite the fact that he had almost no formal training, Ramanujan is recognized to be one of the greatest mathematicians of the modern age. Nobody (except, perhaps, Loftus) would have been foolish enough to demand that Ramanujan acquire a terminal degree in mathematics before he could be considered a mathematician. That accolade was bestowed simply in virtue of his demonstrable ability to do high level mathematics.

Should Jeff be counted a philosopher? The question can be answered in like manner by simply considering whether Jeff can and does engage in philosophical reasoning. And the answer, on both counts, is yes. Once again, I’d simply commend readers to check out his contribution to Is the Atheist My Neighbor? for a concise demonstration of his philosophical abilities.

Third, Jeff’s lack of formal education in philosophy counts in favor of his philosophical abilities.

In closing I am going to turn Loftus’ argument based on Jeff’s lack of formal education on its head.

Let’s return to Ramanujan for a moment. His genius as a mathematician was particularly on display in the fact that he was an autodidact (that is, self-taught). Any person who has the ability to become adept in a particular subject matter through self-study is, all things being equal, even more impressive than the person who attains that same knowledge and skill through a formal program of study.

In short, it takes especial drive, discipline, and innate ability to become a mathematician — or a philosopher — through independent, self-directed study.

Thus, far from providing an obstacle to Jeff’s status as a philosopher, the fact that he is an autodidact who has never benefited from a formal course of academic study in philosophy counts not against his status as a philosopher but rather in favor of his drive, discipline and innate ability in the field.

God and the S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald

The S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald was a mighty Great Lakes freighter which sank in a storm on Lake Superior in November, 1975, taking 29 sailors to a watery grave. The tragedy was immortalized in Canadian folk rock balladeer Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting 1976 hit “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald“. I’ve listened to the song innumerable times over the years, but yesterday I was hit by the following lyric:

“Does any one know where the love of God goes

When the waves turn the minutes to hours?”

Aye, as eloquent and succinct a statement of the problem of evil as I’ve come across…

What chance has she?

Richard Dawkins begins his famous 1991 essay “Viruses of the Mind” with the following words:

“A beautiful child close to me, six and the apple of her father’s eye, believes that Thomas the Tank Engine really exists. She believes in Father Christmas, and when she grows up her ambition is to be a tooth fairy. She and her school-friends believe the solemn words of respected adults that tooth fairies and Father Christmas really exist. This little girl is of an age to believe whatever you tell her. If you tell her about witches changing princes into frogs she will believe you. If you tell her that bad children roast forever in hell she will have nightmares. I have just discovered that without her father’s consent this sweet, trusting, gullible six-year-old is being sent, for weekly instruction, to a Roman Catholic nun. What chance has she?”

This passage raises at least three distinct issues. First, there is the issue of pedagogy and parental consent. Second, there is the issue of age-appropriate content. (Whatever you may think about the truth of the doctrine of eternal conscious torment, one can still ask about the appropriateness of teaching it to a six year old.) Finally, lingering behind the words of the passage we have the most decisive issue of all: should parents teach their children truth claims which Richard Dawkins believes to be the equivalent of belief in tooth fairies and Father Christmas, i.e. as obviously false and patently ridiculous?

Let’s keep that last issue in mind as we turn to chapter 8 of Dawkins’ book Climbing Mount Improbable which begins with Dawkins recalling an exchange with his six year old daughter Juliet. When she commented on the beautiful flowers by the side of the road, Dawkins was prompted to ask her what she believed wildflowers were for:

“She gave a very thoughtful answer. ‘Two things,’ she said. ‘To make the world pretty, and to help the bees make honey for us.’ I was touched by this and sorry I had to tell her it wasn’t true.”

In other words, this sweet, trusting, gullible six-year-old is being raised by a father who categorically rejects the presence of teleology in nature. Instead, he is instructing her in the doctrine that all the diversity of life is produced by blind cosmic forces.

What chance has she?

The Bitterness of Redemption

On April 23, 2006 police entered the home of the Richardson family in Medicine Hat, Alberta to discover the dead bodies of Marc Richardson, his wife Debra, and their 8 year old son Jacob. Marc and his wife had died of multiple stab wounds. But it was the death of young Jacob that was most horrifying for first responders as he was discovered with a deep gash across his throat, his mouth and eyes wide open in a frozen expression of indescribable horror.

In the days after this grisly discovery Canadians would learn that the murders had been committed by 23 year old Jeremy Steinke and his 12 year old girlfriend, the daughter of the Richardsons and older sister of Jacob. The young couple, apparently inspired by Oliver Stone’s film Natural Born Killers, were apprehended shortly thereafter. While Steinke was sent to prison, the girl was sent to a psychiatric hospital for several years.

I’m writing this because the story has again entered the news. The Richardson daughter is now 21 and a student at the University of Calgary. And she just had her last curfew restriction removed by a judge. She is lauded as an exemplary case of rehabilitation and is considered the lowest risk to reoffend.

This should be the best possible ending to a horrific case. After all, a child who murdered her own family has now been restored to being a productive member of society. This case should exemplify the criminal justice system at its best: rehabilitation and, perhaps, redemption.

So why does this “best possible ending” leave me even more embittered?