Essay: Good Bye, Faithful Scout

I felt slightly disappointed when I read this article stating that the organization formerly known as the Boy Scouts of America (BSA) had filed for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy. This protective action was ostensibly precipitated by BSA’s failure to manage the behavior of its leadership and members. Furthermore, Boy Scout’s attempts to be inclusively fair, if not openly and officially accepting, to LGBTQ members and leaders and to females, even going so far as changing its official name seem to have contributed to the struggle. I am uncertain about the details of all that, but it seems to me that the Boy Scouts have fallen victim to the clichéd rock and a hard place.

I was a member of BSA as were my two sons. Julie was a Brownie or something. None of us were abused, that I know of. The two troops I was associated with were each aligned with two different Christian-denomination churches. I recall using words like loyal, helpful, friendly, jamboree, scout’s honor, motto, merit badge, ranking by class (first, second, etc.), and the three-finger salute. Neither I nor my sons were inducted into the Order of the Arrow or Eagle Scouts, nor did any of us do more than eventually move on after some meetings and camping trips, although my tenure may have been longer.

One of my son’s friends was Jewish and a member of the same scout troop. My wife recalls the boy’s Jewish mother, a family friend, commenting that BSA was a Christian organization. It’s interesting how different things look from the inside of organizations, religions, and groups than they do from the outside. Organizations sponsored by churches or religions take on trappings of the sponsor, no matter the struggle for fairness.

At least one of my grandchildren was steered away from association with the Boy Scouts due, at least in part, to its religious, God and Country, core influences. Yet, ironically, it is BSA’s tie with religion, particularly with Latter Day Saints (Mormon) and other vestiges of Christianity as well, that is it’s undoing along with stacking up lawsuits and the ever-present litigation by lawyers making a living over organized misconduct. But those details don’t bother me.

What I did wonder about is why I gave a shit when I read the news. Why do I feel badly seeing an organization founded with good intentions foundering after being attacked, perhaps deservedly, from all sides, religious and secular? Intellectually and rationally, I don’t care. Some might even say I was corrupted by being a Scout, but I disagree. Yet, there is no denying how I feel emotionally.

I’ve been criticized for not regretting my religious, Roman Catholic, past. I’ve been called corrupted, ignorant, and diagnosed with cognitive dissonance by fellow atheists, none of which know me personally, for my lack of acrimonious bitching about religions. While I admit that I would not encourage anyone’s association with and participation in BSA today, I confess gratitude and a smidgen of pride for what the Boy Scouts taught me. The organization I knew is long gone. Such a group will be replaced (already has been in some arenas), but it will never be the same. Neither will I (Scout’s honor).

After that, it’s time for some Eagles. I was going to paste-in a YouTube of the song Get Over It, but I failed to find a public domain link. What is cyberspace coming to? I’m sure I’ll get over it.

Wait! I found this one. Not great, but eh. It works and cured me.

Bill

Review of the Netflix movie: The Two Popes.

Two good questions: first, why would I watch such a movie, and second, why would I take time to review it?

I could list all the religious, biblically based movies I’ve watched and assign quality ratings to each based upon my opinion. Many were action dramas packed with fiction, emotion, and story.

I could also make a list of songs I like, such as Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum, or Jesus is Just Alright by the Doobie Brothers. I don’t dismiss things simply because they involve religion, beliefs, gods, spirits, demons, or all opinions different from mine, but I have limits. Who remembers the line, Venus, goddess of love that you are? Anyone take that literally?

Religion is a big part of the world, history, and human life, especially in America, like it or not. Music and theater have become significant aspects of religion. I can deal with it. I don’t understand why people think such facts may be upsetting. Reality is not.

A friend who shares many of my opinions recommended The Two Popes movie. A few nights ago, my wife and I watched it.

This is a movie about two real people, old men who found themselves leading the largest single religious denomination on Earth: 1.2 billion Catholic people—about half of all Christians, the other half being sliced and diced into nearly 500 denominations and nondenominational “independents.”

When Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger was elected Pope in 2005, a friend asked my opinion of that. I said he would not have been my first choice. Now, almost 15 years later, I still would not support him for Pope, not that anyone cares what I think about Popes.

Pope Benedict XVI never recovered from being who he was, Joseph Aloisius Ratzinger; a bishop, cardinal, priest, and a devout Roman Catholic from the conservative right wing of the Church, and something of a semi-unlikable jerk. In February of 2013, he became the first Pope in 700 years to resign (or step aside), rather than die in office. Pope Benedict is 92.

This movie is about the interaction between Pope Benedict and the Argentinean Cardinal, Jorge Mario Bergoglio, who eventually became the now reigning Pope Francis. The latter man being from somewhere left of center, but with roots in a conservative order called the Jesuits, which may have set some cognitive dissonance loose in his mind. Flashbacks of Bergoglio’s life include romance, violence, and political intrigue. It seems the man has regrets, as does the other Pope.

I liked this movie for several reasons: it’s unpretentious, involves the human condition, and shows how human differences can be managed, albeit with limited success. The Roman and Vatican scenes are worth seeing, if less than amazing on my 60-inch LG television.

I recommend the movie to everyone. It’s for people of all religions and of none, old folks and young (maybe not children) might enjoy it, both men and women, gay and straight, stubborn and flexible will find something to like or to protest, but especially both currently active and apostate Catholics should enjoy it (all my opinion). Of course, some folks dislike pizza and ice cream. Some may not agree with my assessment. They can write their own review.

The acting is mostly great with Anthony Hopkins as Pope Benedict XVI and Jonathan Pryce as Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio (later Pope Francis). There are cameos by both real Popes.

While this is a biopic drama, it is about the relationship of two of the most powerful men on earth who see the world through diametrically different lenses for the same reasons: god, holiness, mankind, and the human condition.

It’s on Netflix. Give it a go but don’t expect manufactured dystopian drama. There are no battling Titans or walking dead, but some violence is depicted. These are real people with human emotions and experience with past trauma.

It’s not as much fun as Secondhand Lions, also about two old men (and a boy), but The Two Popes was worth my 125 minutes to sit through the PG-13 drama. It’s a good movie and I’m not the only person who thinks so. Thumbs up.

Bill

The Mixing of Wedded Bliss

In the Catholic Church, canon law deals with mixed marriages (a marriage between a Catholic and a baptized person outside the Church) and marriages in disparity of cult (marriage between a Catholic and an unbaptized person). Distinction is made between inter-denominational and interfaith marriage, and some denominations extend their own rules and practices to other Christian denominations.

I have no idea of the Church’s position if one of the married couple later embraces atheism. That may be grounds for annulment since virtually anything is.

It’s been going on for about 1,500 years, since the first council to address it was about that long ago, it has been brought to us through history, and it is still an issue today. However, Catholics marry non-Catholics all the time, given Catholic Church dispensation or not. The religious groups least likely to marry outside their faith are Mormons and Hindus. Muslims have some strict rules as do Orthodox Jews. But I know of several people who became Mormon for the purpose of marriage. I don’t know if they de-converted after the divorce.

All my biological grandparents were dead by the time I was born. My maternal grandmother, Katherine M., died over 100 years ago of a prenatal illness, an event that she would almost certainly survive today. Her husband died in 1943, long after remarrying and fathering more children with a Lutheran lady and the only grandparent I knew. She was my step-grandmother. Katherine was Irish and Roman Catholic. My grandfather, after whom I am named William, had been born in Wales and was a life-long Presbyterian. I wish I knew more of the story.

Family dysfunction and distress caused by such long-passed events are seldom chosen topics for most formal family history. But I suspect there was some bother over 120 years ago due to this mixed marriage, even though rules were followed, ‘all i’s were dotted and t’s crossed.’

Such religiously mixed marriages were a pain to get approved. But if one wanted to remain within the good graces of the Catholic Church, and in many cases one’s family, it was a must. The farther back in time you go, the bigger the challenge. I have no idea what Presbyterians might have thought, but I suspect there were issues with gramps marring a Catholic and promising to raise all children as Catholic. Issues may have arisen within his family, but I can’t prove it. When I peek at his relationships with his family, I can imagine estrangement.

My mother and her older sister, who we called Lorry, were both raised as Catholics in a Lutheran household with a Presbyterian patriarch. That was their religion and apparently no one ever tried to change it. Aunt Lorry was a strict and upright personality (old maid aunt) who always treated me wonderfully. She was a hard core and strict ‘Latin Mass’ Catholic until the changes of Vatican II began to find their way into the religious practices of the Church, most specifically, the Mass.

While she managed with the priest facing her and speaking a language she understood, the hand shaking, hugs, and kissing during the sign of peace (a Christian greeting common in many Protestant services) were too much and she stopped attending Mass. That was a big deal since failure to attend Mass was considered a mortal sin by many, and only one of those gets you a personal ticket to Hell.

I understood that better than when I learned that my brother-in-law stopped going to Mass because there was too much emphasis on love. Seriously. God forbid such debauchery! (Italian and 30-year USMC top kick.)

The only Catholic girl I ever had any interest in was my friend’s sister, June. We were friends, but never had a romantic relationship. I do not recall ever having a Catholic girlfriend.

I married young, in a church, with a Methodist minister presiding (Air Force Chaplain), to a protestant girl who had disavowed the fundamentalist denomination of her parents. I asked for no dispensation from the Catholic Church, although the Air Force had to grant me permission first. Young enlisted military marriages were problematic, so I understand. They said, “fine.”

Neither of us was religious, but we were not anti-religion either. We did not attend church. In the 70s we had two sons. At some point we decided to exercise our option for a Catholic wedding. Both boys were baptized, and we were (re)married by a priest after weeks of Catholic educational counseling by the unmarried priest.

The priest nearly blew it when he told my wife of almost 10 years that I was the head of the family, and she was to submit to me. We discussed it, and I did what damage control I could, but the harm had been done. While she laughed it off, she knew that he was stating an official church position that neither of us agreed with (add birth control and face-to-face confession to the list).

My wife did not convert to Catholicism until about 25 years later. The boys and I were Catholic, and she was not for most of the time. But you could hardly tell. We tried being a Catholic family until one day she looked at me and said, “I can’t do this.” I agreed that we had tried it, but that it was not working for us.

For the next few years we did not do much church. I don’t recall much practice of religion until we got hooked up with a Methodist Church when we were stationed in California. Our daughter was baptized in the Methodist church, and I think our oldest son was essentially confirmed after some religious classes, which I also attended.

We were doing fine until one day the leadership of the Methodist religion decided to write a letter that spoke for all Methodists, in my opinion. I was still a Catholic attending a protestant church with my family. But the fact that they wrote the letter, ostensibly speaking for me and my family pissed me off. I stopped going, and that ended that. We grappled with other protestant churches for the wrong reasons, but eventually gave that up.

One day in 1999, after reading a book by Thomas Merton, I decided to give the Catholic Church one more try. After moving to a new city, my wife and I jumped into a large Catholic Parish. We did well and grew into church leadership, did about everything possible for about 12 years (missions, teaching, she was the parish administrative specialist/secretary and front-office gate keeper, I ended up President of the Parish Council).

For at least the last few years of that, atheism made sense to me and the existence of god and all that, upon which the church was supposedly founded, did not.

I learned so much about Catholicism, the hierarchy, clergy, apologetics, the Bible, the Catechism, and all the good and bad side of church, religion, and the religious. While I ended up with some big-time issues with religion in general, my issue with the whole thing was simply that I did not really believe any of it. I tried to. I tried and tried and tried.

I did not believe any god or gods existed and I gradually morphed into a full-blown, out, minor-militant atheist. My conclusion that no god existed was not based on any issues with religion in general, the Catholic Church specifically, or any of the people or the maniacal clergy.

I’ve seen people identify themselves as a Jewish atheist. I’m not sure I would like to identify as a Catholic atheist simply because that makes no sense. But what of love, marriage, and family?

An acquaintance’s son, because of such mixed issues, decided to marry in a non-Catholic, in a non-church setting. The father did not attend the wedding because of this. None of my business, but I was furious. I could not understand why the guy had put such a minor religious issue before his family. To place such a stupid standard above his son’s happiness escaped my understanding of both love and religion. The man I knew could never undo his failure to show love for his son and his wife, and while they did reconcile, the man died never able to undo the damage caused by his interpretation of religion. It was not the Church’s fault. He made that decision on his own.

Life is not static, neither are people or our beliefs and standards. Things change. I read about and listened to The Graceful Atheist Podcast with the wife of man who was as devout as they come (not unlike Neil Carter and David, the host of the podcast) when the marriage began, but fell away from religion, deconverted, and became an outed atheist. Their marriage survives, but clearly religion is an issue as she is a very active church lady.

Marriage is difficult enough. It’s unfortunate that religion intervenes to make it more difficult.

Bill

It’s All About How We Feel

All life is full of an unbalanced distribution of pain and suffering. Few, if any of us, intentionally seek out such afflictions. Yet misery finds us. Most animals, certainly humans, avoid these troubles. Unfortunately, many find suicide to be the only recourse to end hopeless permanent misery. While virtually all cling to life, the US suicide rate is at its highest point since WWII (lowest among people of Asian and Pacific Islander groups, highest among Alaskan native people).

Pain has its place. Doctors have denied me relief medication so as not to mask symptoms. I’ve sought medical treatment due to the pain I felt, which signaled something was amiss. I’ve sought support to alleviate my emotional distress, and many of life’s lessons came in the form of pain or shock.

Often, people who become chemically addicted had been seeking pleasure, pain relief, or withdrawal mitigation provided by the substance, either medicinal or nonmedical. Much the same can be said of social addictions. People often help us to feel better.

The goal is the pursuit of feeling happy, whatever that happens to be. A problem is the lie of some drugs, especially alcohol, provide in the form of temporary relief followed by dependence. While relief is the intent, loss of control accompanied by legal transgression is often the result.

And then we have the perverse, unwise, and often injurious idiom, no pain, no gain. I much prefer, listen to your body.

But I want to mention how religion, particularly Christianity, looks upon pain and suffering.

I was religiously taught that experiencing pain and suffering was good, perhaps blessed. While my secular world never supported this acceptance theory, my elementary school teachers, who were Catholic nuns, emphasized the suffering, sacrifice, and martyrdom of saints: holiness.

The passion (read suffering) of Jesus is emphasized dramatically as being caused by human sin. Thus, much, but not all, of Christianity is enamored with pain and suffering. I won’t over-do that here. It gets deep. There must be books and books about the art and science of suffering. Some even claim that one’s suffering contributes to the quality of one’s art.

Like most Catholics, I was taught to offer it up. They could have simply said, just deal with it. But on the mystical road to God works in mysterious ways, one must make life’s pain and suffering serve a useful purpose. That’s religion. And let’s not leave out the it’s your fault, and you should feel guilty and repent. Penance. More suffering which ironically may include prayer.

Fortunately, none of the physicians working in pain management tell their patients to do that, although many cautiously allude to it. However, I have not recently checked any Catholic hospitals.

I have had discussions with my medical providers about some of my pain, and we jointly decided I should endure exercise pain and work through it as it is the best alternative to dangerous surgery. Most properly done exercise is beneficial. I agreed, but dang! I wrote a poem about it.

Still, my goals are to feel good or at least free of most pain and suffering, to remain healthy, and to live as long as reasonably possible. I ascribe to the idea that there is a long enough or too long, but we only seem to know that point when we reach or pass it.

Religions want to tell us what and how god is, and how we should feel about life, death, and god. Some seem to want it both ways. The health and wealth folks are into get mine here and now, but most Christians and Muslims seem ready to accept that heavenly gratification will happen after we die. That is when we will be truly happy and pain free—and dead. I mean cold stone dead.

Many have decided that god is all for the good, and whatever it is they chose to believe is what they want to believe because that is what makes them feel good. And that’s my point. We all want to feel good. They see the wealth and well-being of theirs juxtaposed with their own suffering as God’s will or his mysterious ways.

Be it religion or reality, it’s all about how we feel. I feel as though I am championing the obvious, but for some, this is controversial.

Bill

God ≠ Religion ≠ God

Belief in a god or other spirits does not require practicing a religion. I emphasize the difference between the two things: a belief in a god and doing some religion. Religion makes the rules for dealing with that god, and in some cases other gods.

If something like a god exists as a spiritual or physical deity, with or without interest in humanity or any of Earth’s flora and fauna, then he, she, or it must exist outside of human contact or detection. If not, we would be able to detect a god and the whole question of existence goes away.

Then, we are left to fight over religion, something we have done for thousands of years. There could be anything out there. But, if no god exists, which seems likely without contact or detection, religion becomes pointless as rules for interacting with something nonexistent, which is silly.

Over the years, gods of one kind or another have been given names. You’d think they’d come with their own names, but they need us to name them. Think about it. Why would they need names anyway? Is it so we can tell them apart? We had to name them.

What ever happened to these gods we named: Baal, Isis, Osiris, Saturn, Furrina, Venus, Odin, Thor, Mars, Jupiter, Diana of Ephesus, Pluto, Nin, Istar, Sin, and Mami, to list only a few of the many who were worshipped and believed-in by millions of people? Admittedly, a few gods got their own planet.

Many people claim to believe in some god (usually it’s Jesus in these times and parts of the Universe) yet choose to practice no religion whatsoever (often because some church or preacher pissed them off). They, along with atheists and many others in between, are called nones because we mark or write none for the question that asks what religion you are.

I’ve never seen the question asked like this—Do you believe in any god or gods? That is unless it’s being asked by someone like employees of Pew Research while conducting a religion survey. Many of us lie about that part and say yes when we don’t believe. Back in the 1950’s if you wanted to file with the Draft Board as a conscientious objector, that was the first question asked.

The question usually asked is of what religion do you consider yourself a member, or something very similar. But that’s no big deal.

A bigger deal, which is much more interesting, is that there are many people participating in and practicing religious rites and rituals of one kind or another (even preachers, priests, and other ministers), but who do not believe any god exists. Some of these closeted atheists should win Academy Awards.

Other atheists are made to feel welcome at places like Unitarian Universalist churches and are comfortably open about their disbelief (I honestly don’t get this, but I’m far from an expert). Most others are faking belief (Baptists, Mormons, Catholics, Muslims, Hindus, you-name-it) as best they can for whatever reason they may have.

I stopped believing in a god before I stopped going to church. In fact, over the years I was on-and-off or hit-and-miss as in I’ll try this religion thing one more time. I think that’s the case for many other people. The sequence often goes like this: belief based on what we are told, doubts from thinking too much, disbelief as doubt grows, hanging in there, and finally leaving the faith/church/cult/whatever.

In my case, during the process of my deconversion (not a fan of that word, but that’s what it’s called), I held a senior leadership position in my large Roman Catholic parish (aka, church). Before I left, I was on the threshold of moving on to a new job in another state. I waited until I moved. Then, I simply did nothing. It was easy, if a bit semi-deceptive.

I thought it was better and easier to let my term expire quietly and move on rather than to go through all the business of resigning early and trying to explain why. As part of the process of finding a replacement for me, future leadership candidates asked me a lot of personal spiritual questions that I dodged or declined to answer. I recall saying, I’m not the person you want to ask that question of. I was lying. I knew the answer, but I avoided embarrassment for us both. They didn’t understand, of course, but it was better than don’t ask me, I no longer believe any of this (expletive).

Three or four years passed before I openly and clearly said that I am atheist. Before that, I knew, or at least thought I was. But saying the words to any other person seemed scary. I was wrong. It was not scary. It was just the opposite. It was a relief and not something I should have been worried about. If friends and family can’t handle the truth about me, that’s on them.

If I lost any friends I’ve not noticed. Certainly, some relationships have changed, but so what? I’m sure there were some believers who added distance between us, but others would privately confess to me that they were also atheist or some form of unbeliever, or that a loved one of theirs was.

Only a few centuries ago, Christians killed fellow Christians, Jews, and Muslims over religious differences. Now many Muslims seem set on killing the same three groups, including fellow Muslims (it’s a religion of peace, don’t ya know?). In some places, Hindus and Buddhists seem to be at it.

They are all united in that they all get their holy tit in the wringer if you’re atheist. The problems and shortcomings of religion, while denied by many, are obvious to most people if it is not their personal religion of choice we are talking about. But do they ever consider how foolish it all is if no god exists? Religion becomes a symbol of mankind’s stupidity over the eons.

Therefore, I don’t spend much time hammering religion. I can, and sometimes I must make my point. But the key question should be do you believe in any god? If so, then religion is rightfully a secondary issue. If not, then religion is immaterial.

What religion am I? It’s immaterial.

Bill

Angry with or Afraid of God

I understand. Anger is a normal, if often unhelpful, human emotion. Likewise, fear can be disrupting and controlling, or it may keep us safe. Yet, despite experiencing such emotions since childhood (still do today), I have never experienced those two, or any others I can think of, like love, regarding what I considered a god.

If someone had called me a god-fearing man, I would object. I was not afraid of god, though many people wished I was. Through various stages of my life and maturing religious beliefs, I cannot recall ever being angry with any spirit, even the devil himself.

I’m certain that being raised in the environment where I was, being up to my ears in the Roman Catholic Church, its traditions and dogma, left me with a concept of the Christian gods (Father, Son, Holy Ghost; all one god) that is different from how others might imagine the same god.

For most of my life, I have been a man who essentially believed in a god to one degree or another, or tried to. Much of my personal religious effort was focused on growing; on believing stronger or more ardently than I did. I said the prayer, Lord help my unbelief, so many times; more often when I realized which way my theism was going or had gone, which was south. The prayer (of course) changed nothing.

One day a friend told me that she was angry with god because her first marriage ended when her husband left her for another woman. Then her second marriage was to a man who eventually died from alcoholic liver disease (he was still alive when she told me this). I remember wondering how she could blame god for the problems in her life which were caused by the men she loved. At the time I pondered my own faith. Would I ever have enough faith (belief) in god to feel such anger toward him? Today, I doubt the sincerity of her anger.

I was able to share neither her emotional experience nor her theological logic. She is now on her third marriage and, as far as I know, god got it right this time, or maybe the third time adage applies.

I have never been angry with Santa Clause for not bringing me what I had requested; nor at the tooth fairy for leaving such paltry sums of cash under my pillow in exchange for baby teeth. I have never been angry with unicorns because of their preference for human females, nor at leprechauns for not sharing their rumored wealth. I may have mumbled the words, oh lord, why me? or what did I ever do to deserve this? But I was never angry with god (or the Catholic Church) for worldly misfortunes befalling me or those I loved. My atheism is defined by my skepticism, not by my anger or temperament.

Since the time when I said (and wrote) I am atheist, I’ve learned that the concept of disbelief is so foreign to many who believe in god, to one degree or another (just as I did), they attempt to rationalize it by thinking that I really do believe in god, but I must be angry with him for some reason. My friend on her third marriage turned to the refuges of church and religion and to god for solace during her difficult times. She has not embraced atheism or rejected her church (former Catholic now Episcopalian) and religion. If anything, she has become more involved in all of that.

For me to be angry with god would require greater faith and stronger belief than I’ve ever had. When I get angry at anyone, I may cut off communication, but I know they still exist (unfortunate in some cases).

I have always rejected most religions as do most Christians. Now I simply reject all religions more fervently than in the past. When I de-converted, I needed to add only a few religions to the list.

While I remain furious at the Catholic Church hierarchy for how they handled and continue to handle all sexual abuse (cover up), so are many practicing Catholics (although far too many play apologists and make insanely poor excuses for the priests and bishops).

If I discover one day that I am wrong and god exists, I may ask, what the fuck were you thinking? Depending on the answer I get, I may then become angry with god. Until then, I see no reason to waste my emotions on the invisible (and nonexistent) man in the sky. Either he is not there, or he doesn’t give a shit. Either way.

An Atheist Walked into a Church

Atheists go to church for a variety of reasons, especially those of us who are former believers. We understand going to church and usually have little or no fear or discomfort about attending. We know why people practice religions.

If invited to a wedding I might go, and certainly the reception (food, drink, party) would be a must. Funerals are a drag, but if there is an Irish type afterparty, I might consider it.

The last formal funeral I attended was my sister’s. It was a Catholic Funeral Mass or Requiem Mass. I was still a practicing Catholic at the time. My other sister, who died first, had had a memorial service at the funeral home, as she had done for her husband. That sister insisted upon a graveside service for our mother when she died, presided over by a paid retired priest, so no church required.

But my father had a full Requiem Mass (demanded by his daughter) 12 years prior. I dislike funerals, wakes, memorial services, and all of that, but I attend when I feel like it is expected. Embracing atheism has not changed that, other than I have a different opinion about the soulful status of dead people.

When a former supervisor of mine died, I was still working with the guy although he was no longer my boss. I went to his memorial service in a chapel because I felt socially obligated. I also felt like a hypocrite for going. I despised the man almost from the first moment I met him, but I kept that to myself. As I walked back to my office, I felt relieved that duty was done. I would do it again, despite how I felt about him. I try not to hold grudges against the dead. That would be like playing god.

Most weddings are fun. I don’t recall when I last attended one in a church setting, but I’d go again. Maybe not in Afghanistan cuz they do terrorist bombings at weddings there, and Muslims don’t drink anyway. I am up for a good, safe wedding, secular or religious.

If I was invited to a Quinceañera, I would go to the Mass. Quinceañera is the Hispanic tradition of celebrating young girls’ coming of age near their 15^th birthday. They are celebrations to embrace religious customs, the virtues of family, and social responsibility. Such cultural celebrations are fun. I never went to an associated Quinceañera Mass when I attended church because the Mass was in Spanish and the church was packed — standing room only that overflowed out the door into the parking lot. I do not expect to ever attend one for that reason, maybe the afterparty.

If I sense that someone is trying to proselytize me by inviting me to church, I would not cooperate and would certainly back away. That would be to keep the peace since I think turnabout is fair play, and I think apostasy is a healthy option for everyone. But you know how they get when we try to make it a level playing field.

If I did go to a Catholic church, I’m not sure what I would do regarding the Catholic gymnastics during Mass (sit, kneel, stand). I understand the Mass, and I know exactly what’s going on. But kneeling and standing relate specifically to prayer and honoring JC and the gospel readings. However, when people at Mass do not participate, they become conspicuous, and I am not one for any self-spotlighting. I would not want peeps to think me a Southern Baptist.

In any case, I have not been to a church service of any kind in at least eight years. But that is not so long.

A 95-year-old man I knew (Joe) was a former Catholic who got talked into going to Mass and taking communion (I would not do that). He did. He told me that he had not been in a church for about 80 years. He just wanted to see what would happen. Nothing did. He finished our chat explaining his conflict with faith and reason and why he still chose reason. Joe never said he was atheist, and I never asked, but I feel certain he was.

It’s hard to explain going to church for any reason if one is openly a non-believer, especially when one uses the atheist moniker. Some people do not attend church at all and simply identify with no religious preference. Many of those are closeted atheists. Other hidden atheists continue to attend church and feign religious practice for long periods of time. We know that happens because so many of us did.

I may attend church depending on the situation, religion, and the mutual acceptability of the groups in question. But it would be a mistake to assume that I will not attend out of arrogance and disbelief. I’m still waiting for my Pagan and Wiccan friends to invite me to one of their rituals.

Bill

What are you afraid of?

This essay is based upon the post, The How of Atheism?, from the blog ‘TheCommonAtheist.’

Fear is a normal human emotion. Usually, it’s a beneficial one. But it can be a choke point in human progress.

For example, when I first started riding a motorcycle I progressed to high-speed highway driving. With no seat belt, no metal cage surrounding me with air bags, and no safety devices, other than what I was wearing; traveling upwards of 70 miles per hour surrounded by cars with drivers poorly skilled or foolish, with parts of my body passing unprotected only inches from hard, hot pavement, and all of me exposed to natural and unnatural elements; I was scared riding my motorcycle. It is inherently dangerous. Known danger begets fear, but sometimes the same risk elicits pleasure.

Anytime while riding a motorcycle you need to be alert but relaxed and loose enough to respond at any speed. Instructors will tell you to be relaxed because body tension will hamper both physical response and mental judgment. I agree. Being alert and aware was no problem. However, the amount of body tension caused by fear is overwhelming and no amount of relax, relax, calm down was going to alleviate it. Experience over time helps, but the other side of the confidence curve has probably resulted in more serious accidents than bodily tension.

Fear of extinction (Psychology Today’s term for fear of death or dying) is a big deal. It’s normal, they say. If you add to that religion’s threats of permanent torture (Hell), you have raised someone’s anxiety level regarding death significantly. But not for everyone. There have always been atheists in fox holes and some have died there. In the USA, we remember them on Memorial Day.

To many believers merely doubting the existence of god is your ticket to Hell. It doesn’t matter how wonderfully charitable and loving you’ve lived your life. Religion has its dark and irrational side.

In his post, Jim postulates that atheism mitigates that fear better than a religion, especially Christianity or Islam.

I do not fear extinction. I agree in that I fear the pain and suffering of the dying process more than I fear its completion. Leonard Cohen said the same thing in an interview. Cohen also said, I was dead before I was born, and I recall no problems (I’m paraphrasing).

I recall my mother declining my offer to call a priest for last rights when she was dying. Mom was not atheist, but she said that after years of ignoring her religion she was not about to start then, a remarkable thing for a Catholic to say about the last sacrament in the face of death. She also said, “when you’re dead, you’re dead.” I did not request elaboration.

Leaning on parts from Jim’s post a bit more, Atheism is

trusting your own judgment and weighing evidence,
realizing that humans are easily deceived and manipulated by guilt,
accepting the natural goodness and innocence of humanity,
accepting human rationality, reason, and the inevitability of death.
acceptance of the here and now and responsibility derived from reality;
a fundamental rejection of fear-based belief in gods and religious prescriptions of morality associated with fear of retribution.
And it embraces the uniqueness of the individual and it is a personal claim to integrity.

To paraphrase (Jim and Paul), Oh death, where is my fear of thy sting?

Here are a few more quotes that are linked to the source. But they certainly stand alone and are based more on academic research than this old skeptic’s pondering.

So non-believers are not only distrusted; they also stir up morbid thoughts, and perhaps raise discomforting doubts about what happens after we die.

First, that fear motivates religious belief, and second, that religious belief mitigates fear. And…While the fear of actual death—painfully, slowly—is apparent, the existential crisis encountered at the prospect of nothingness appears to cause the most anxiety.

Bill

Obsessed with Sex

“For some reason, churches have decided the most important thing about you is what you do with your genitals.” Neil Carter, Godless in Dixie

Last September, I posted a dialog piece that was sort of about sex, if that’s possible. I didn’t say it was a sexual discussion, but the dialog implied it without directly making the claim. I never gave the sex (gender) of the people in the dialog. Either person could have been male or female. Both could have been the same sex or anyone from the long list of diverse human sexualities (preferences, orientations, or whatever the correct term may be).

The discussion could have been about any experience from paragliding to spelunking. I never said that one of them had sex with someone else, especially outside of some committed relationship. However, I was not clear with my implication. Thus, anyone could infer that one of the speakers had illicit sex, or at least some sort of untoward relationship. Readers had to assume and some did.

While I made no direct claim to a difficulty with the relationship of the two, some readers made that additional assumption. That was fair enough.

One comment compared the dialog to a real discussion with his spouse who’d had sex with someone else. Apparently, a fundamentalist Christian man, he made this comment: “Sex isn’t everything.” Indeed. I agree.

However, while nothing is everything, sex is important. I’ve heard it referred to as a need or a drive. We humans are sex-obsessed in both good and bad ways. It can be rewarding and loving or many other things, including disastrous.

The human sexual nature is a strong, powerful, and wonderful aspect of our nature that can be troublesome on its own, with no help from religious dogma. But the general nature of our sexual disguise is culturally prudish and problematic. It’s certainly obsessive. And religion adds a phenomenal trail of embarrassment and disgust.

When it comes to sex, I usually avoid the topic altogether or I can talk open and plain about it. The latter occurs more in writing than verbal.

The topic is ubiquitous. The Atheist Community of Austin, Texas, (ACA) the organization that does the internet call-in show, The Atheist Experience, also now does a show and podcast called Secular Sexuality.

Over time, human prudishness seems to be wilting, depending on the culture. But not so with religion. In the US, religion will have its hooks in the private sexual lives (genitals) of everyone, not only members of those religions for a long time. However, over time reality and human nature seem to slowly bubble up like a lava lamp in super slow motion.

Sex is not a bad word. It is neither sinful nor dirty. While it can be socially and psychologically harmful, and all forms of human contact can communicate disease, the fact is that we think about it and do it a lot. Sexual hang-ups (anxieties) can be caused by many things, religion being numero uno. There are words for our attitude toward sex.

Erotophilia is our disposition to respond to sexual cues either positively or negatively, measured on a scale from erotophobia to erotophilia. Erotophobes are more authoritarian, need achievement, observe traditional sex roles, experience more sex guilt, and have more negative reactions to masturbation and homosexuality than erotophiles.

Erotophilics masturbate and fantasize more frequently, think about sex often, have sexual intercourse at an earlier age, have more past sexual experiences, and a greater number of intercourse partners than erotophobics. Erotophiles are more likely to breast or genital self-examine, have more regular gynecological visits, and to engage in preventative behaviors regarding sexually transmitted diseases (i.e., have healthier sex lives).

If anything, many religious sexual views are downright unhealthy, even leading to physical mutilation of children without their consent, not to mention unwanted pregnancies. I don’t know the level of mental damage that is done.

I agree with Neil, with the ACA, and with Hitch when he said,

“If anything proves that religion is not just man-made but masculine-made, it is the incessant repetition of rules and taboos governing the sexual life.” Christopher Hitchens, The Portable Atheist

And then there are all the other books on this topic: books and books and more books. It must be a big deal.

Bill

When was the last time you prayed?

About a year ago a midwestern friend asked people to pray for rain. I thought, if god exists he should make it rain there. It did! In fact, I think they’re having problems with floods now. Apparently, sometimes folks need to tell him when to stop. I also tend to pray when I’m upset. I’ve invoked deities with things like god damn it (or dad gum it), Jesus Christ (or the family version of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph), Oh, God!, good god (or good grief), god help you, god only knows, bless her (or his) heart, and so on.

My last in earnest prayer was reciting part of Mark 9:24, I believe, help my unbelief, which is an alleged quote said by a father during a scene in which Jesus performed an exorcism on the man’s son. That prayer was more than ten years ago as I was dealing with doubts about religion and god.

Roughly five years later I openly embraced my own atheism. My only prayers since might be called sarcastic blasphemy by some. I do not seriously pray. I would not pray if I ever came to believe in some god. I do not say amen after someone else prays, but I do (for now) sit or stand quietly while they pray or say some form of grace or meal blessing. I’m not sure how much longer I will cooperate with the holding of hands since I see that as me participating in the act of prayer.

What about people who believe in gods, especially the Abrahamic one, and never pray? Are they theists, deists, or practical atheists, as the Catholic church claims?

I have always thought that what people do matters most. I have never bought into the once saved, always saved; or what people believe matters more than what they do. In my mind, it fits well into what we do matters more than what we say.

I can’t recall ever being told that it is a sin to not ever pray. Is it wrong to never physically and verbally acknowledge a god, even if you do believe in one or more?

I no longer pray because I am mostly convinced (97.7%, if you need a degree) that no gods exist, and if they did, prayer would still be nonsense. When I prayed it was because it was a big part of the religion I practiced, not because I thought it was working. I prayed for dead people to be in heaven and I prayed for sick and dying people to recover. The sick got well, the dying died anyway.

Of the 80 or 90 percent of people who claim to believe in some sort of deity or woo-woo, how many never pray, never go to church, never practice a religion, and never dance naked around the fire during a full, or new moon?

Bill