A Big Item on God’s To-Do List: Kill as Many People as Possible

Yet the church gets away with “God is love” 

Those who have been assured since childhood that God is Love—and

have been coached to pray to their loving father well into adulthood—seem immune to many Bible texts that contradict this idea, for example, these pieces of Jesus-script:

 

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother,
and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.”  (Matthew 10:34-36)

 

Luke’s version of this text is prefaced with, “I have come to cast fire upon the earth, and how I wish it were already ablaze!” (Luke 12:49)

 

In his letter to the Romans, the apostle Paul taught that “wrath and fury” awaited people who were disobedient to god. (Romans 2:8)

 

The Genesis Flood Story is all about god killing as many people as possible, in fact everyone on earth except for one family. Yet Bible books for children focus on the rainbow ending, ignoring the genocide. Ken Ham decided to celebrate the genocide with a family-fun theme park. How in the world can he live with himself? 

 

Devout folks are persuaded that the horrendous suffering in the world can’t be blamed on god, but is the result of free will, or god’s mysterious ways, or a supposed bigger plan unknown to us. This is what I have called “easy acceptance of the very terrible,” an outlook/attitude that is given a boost by a deep ignorance of history, i.e., unawareness of how much suffering there has been. 

 

On 1 November 1755, Lisbon was destroyed by earthquake, tsunami and fire. Many of the 12,000 who died were killed when churches collapsed on them as they praised god on All-Saints-Day. In the 14^th century, at least a quarter of the human population between India and England died of the plague—and the suffering was grotesque. The church was sure that this was god’s “wrath and fury” in action, and penitents wandered Europe flagellating themselves hoping to appease god’s anger. But how can that possibly make sense—how can it be squared with belief in a loving god? The Holocaust during World War II—six million people intentionally murdered—is totally inexplicable if a good, caring deity is paying attention. Indeed, Holocaust-denialism is one way of salvaging faith. Such denial is totally inexplicable since the Holocaust is one of the most thoroughly documented crimes in history. 

 

Honest theology would admit that killing people seems to be a big item on angry god’s to-do list.

 

But then there was another Holocaust that has not attracted as much attention. It is appropriate here to include paragraphs from the opening of David E. Stannard’s book, American Holocaust: The Conquest of the New World.

 

“In the darkness of an early July morning in 1945, on a desolate spot in the New Mexico desert named after a John Donne sonnet celebrating the Holy Trinity, the first atomic bomb was exploded. J. Robert Oppenheimer later remembered that the immense flash of light, followed by the thunderous roar, caused a few observers to laugh and others to cry. But most, he said, were silent. Oppenheimer himself recalled at that instant a line from the Bhagavad-Gita: 

 

I am become death, the shatterer of worlds.

 

“There is no reason to think that anyone on board the Niña, the Pinta, or the Santa María, on an equally dark early morning four and a half centuries earlier, thought of those ominous lines from the ancient Sanskrit poem when the crews of the Spanish ships spied a flicker of light on the windward side of the island they would name after the Holy Savior. But the intuition, had it occurred, would have been as appropriate then as it was when that first nuclear blast rocked the New Mexico desert sands. 

 

“In both instances—at the Trinity test site in 1945 and at San Salvador in 1492—those moments of achievement crowned years of intense personal struggle and adventure for their protagonists and were culminating points of ingenious technological achievement for their countries. 

 

“But both instances also were prelude to orgies of human destructiveness that, each in its own way, attained a scale of devastation not previously witnessed in the entire history of the world. Just twenty-one days after the first atomic test in the desert, the Japanese industrial city of Hiroshima was leveled by nuclear blast; never before had so many people—at least 130,000, probably many more—died from a single explosion. Just twenty-one years after Columbus’s first landing in the Caribbean, the vastly populous island that the explorer had renamed Hispaniola was effectively desolate; nearly 8,000,000 people—those Columbus chose to call Indians—had been killed by violence, disease, and despair. It took a little longer, about the span of a single human generation, but what happened on Hispaniola was the equivalent of more than fifty Hiroshimas.”

 

And: “The destruction of the Indians of the Americas was, far and away, the most massive act of genocide in the history of the world.”

 

How does God-Is-Love theology survive when we become fully aware of such horrendous suffering? “He’s got the whole world in his hands” fails to have any meaning at all. The New Testament especially makes the point that its god is aware of every human, i.e., everything we say, and even think—which is how prayer is supposed to work—is known to god.  

 

And how can the god who runs the cosmos not be aware of the Big Picture? 

 

He had to know very well that Europeans were sailing west to find a way to China, but that a massive land mass was in the way—a land mass that was home to many millions of people who had been settled in north, central, and south American for thousands of years. Moreover, this god must have known that these residents of the Americas would have no immunity whatever to the many diseases that the European explorers brought with them. These diseases proved to be primary cause of death—wiping out millions of people: a super version of the 14^th century’s Black Plague.

 

Yet, god just watched it all happen? How can this not be an enormous problem for Christian theology? An all-powerful god just sitting on his hands? It makes no sense whatever. 

 

Stannard devotes considerable space in his book to descriptions of the societies that the Spanish found as they ventured deeper into South America. He quotes from letters and diaries that explorers wrote, in which they marveled at the wonders they encountered: examples of advanced architecture and well-ordered, well-run communities. 

 

But the Spanish were not tourists. They were money motivated, on the hunt for gold, silver for the Spanish monarchy—and for slaves. Columbus was the trail-blazer—and a malicious one at that; he was a man 

 

“…with sufficient intolerance and contempt for all who did not look or behave or believe as he did, that he thought nothing of enslaving or killing such people simply because they were not like him. He was, to repeat, a secular personification of what more than a thousand years of Christian culture had wrought. As such, the fact that he launched a campaign of horrific violence against the natives of Hispaniola is not something that should surprise anyone. Indeed, it would be surprising if he had not inaugurated such carnage.” (pp. 199-200, Kindle, Stannard, emphasis added)

 

Later, heroes of the United States shared similar ideas. 

 

“George Washington, in 1779, instructed Major General John Sullivan to attack the Iroquois and ‘lay waste all the settlements around . . . that the country may not be merely overrun but destroyed,’ urging the general not to “listen to any overture of peace before the total ruin of their settlements is effected.”” (p. 119, Kindle)

 

Thomas Jefferson, “…in 1807 instructed his Secretary of War that any Indians who resisted American expansion into their lands must be met with ‘the hatchet.’ ‘And . . . if ever we are constrained to lift the hatchet against any tribe,’ he wrote, ‘we will never lay it down till that tribe is exterminated, or is driven beyond the Mississippi,’ continuing: ‘in war, they will kill some of us; we shall destroy all of them.’” (p. 120, Kindle)

 

And: “…the man who became America’s first truly twentieth century President, Theodore Roosevelt, added his opinion that the extermination of the American Indians and the expropriation of their lands ‘was as ultimately beneficial as it was inevitable.’” (p. 245, Kindle)

 

So many of the devout do their very best not to think about these evils: easy acceptance of the very terrible is an easy way out. Well, maybe not so easy—if they’re honest with themselves—but they adopt it anyway to shelter their beliefs from close examination. 

 

This is actually cowardice. Serious threats to the faith should be addressed head-on. One helpful tool for this is John Loftus’ hefty (more than 500 pages) 2021 anthology, God and Horrendous Suffering.

 

The existence of a good, loving, all-powerful, competent god does not withstand careful, critical, skeptical analysis. The Christian god who allowed the American Holocaust is the same one who does nothing to irradicate thousands of genetic diseases, mental illnesses—and cancers that are rampant in the world. He’s “got the whole world in his hands” is such a pathetic misunderstanding of reality. And how is it that a god who supposedly “inspired” humans—that is, manipulated their minds—to write a 1000-page holy book, couldn’t have changed thousands of minds in the direction of improving basic human decency? That is, cleansed our brains of racism. Is that too much to expect?

 

One of Stannard’s final observations: “…there is little doubt that the dominant sixteenth-and seventeenth-century ecclesiastical, literary, and popular opinion in Spain and Britain and Europe’s American colonies regarding the native peoples of North and South America was that they were a racially degraded and inferior lot—borderline humans as far as most whites were concerned.”  (p. 278, Kindle, emphasis added)

 

Humanity would be a lot better off if the Christian god had much greater tutorial skills.

 

 

 

David Madison was a pastor in the Methodist Church for nine years, and has a PhD in Biblical Studies from Boston University. He is the author of two books, Ten Tough Problems in Christian Thought and Belief: a Minister-Turned-Atheist Shows Why You Should Ditch the Faith, now being reissued in several volumes, the first of which is Guessing About God (2023) and Ten Things Christians Wish Jesus Hadn’t Taught: And Other Reasons to Question His Words (2021). The Spanish translation of this book is also now available. 

 

His YouTube channel is here. At the invitation of John Loftus, he has written for the Debunking Christianity Blog since 2016.

 

The Cure-for-Christianity Library©, now with more than 500 titles, is here. A brief video explanation of the Library is here.