I seriously doubt any spirits exist with the nature and capability most people consider a god to have. I’m convinced of that, but I don’t know and neither do you. If either of us could prove it, one way or the other, we would certainly tell all and put the great debate to rest. But callers keep trying to do so, and they keep Matt busy on The Atheist Experience.
Many true believers still would dig in if we could prove the negative hypothesis, but if God were proven to exist, the I told ya so’s would flow like Niagara Falls.
I claim to be atheist, but I am also (in my opinion, we are all) agnostic. How so? Because not one of us can possibly ever know if there is a spiritual god.
That is the essence of the biblical golden calf in Exodus 32 and I Kings 12. The calf is supposed to be the supreme act of apostasy. It is, for the people in the story. It’s the rejection of a faith once confessed. Moses seemed to be lost. Was he talking or toking with the Father up on the mountain with the burning bush?
It was a biblical metaphor. Everyone knew the calf was not a god. It was a man-made statue. Aaron, Moses’s brother, was the maker of the object, which was apparently decided democratically by the people. But this is bible stuff, not history. I don’t want to ponder there.
The great sin, for which they were allegedly killed, was loss of faith or belief. Jewish (and Christian) scripture is replete with hate toward non-believers and apostates. Biblically, killing us not only acceptable, it’s also God’s will.
And for what? Thought crimes? Having a different opinion? Remember, believers of other religions (or denominations) are also damned as evil and justly subject to eternal you-know-what. Kill them all! (Sarcasm, mine.)
This unfair and stupid opinion thus becomes a lie believers can scripturally attribute to God (or Allah, if you’re in that lane). I have been told that I am “one of the good ones.” She knew me and decided I was an exception. The implication is that others who do not believe in some god or religion are evil and do harm. Without any evidence, people of other religions or of none, people who’s only crime is to point out that the king has no clothes, are recreated as evil. That moniker is not for doing any crime or moral wrong. It’s for having a different opinion.
Just yesterday, I stopped at a traffic light behind a Lexus SUV with three stickers on the painted portion of the rear hatch. One was an image of a US flag with the word pray in the blue field where the stars go. The second said something about prayer and the USA, but I forget exactly what it said. But the third pressed my ponder button.
The sticker said, “I am Christian, and I vote.” My first thought was I am not and so do I. I like stickers, but I seldom put them on my car. When I do, they get peeled off when the election or whatever reason for them has passed. But my laptop and iPad are covered with them (nonpolitical).
I cannot consider the …I Vote sticker as anything other than a political threat or intimidation intended to state the owner’s political and governmental priority. That would be the Christian religion. I could not determine if they were Evangelical Protestant, Mainline Protestant, or Catholic. But I suspect one of the first two since while papists consider themselves the original Christians, they usually use Catholic.
Another bumper sticker I saw about 10 years ago said, “You cannot be both Catholic and Pro-Choice.” It was about then that I took my money and left the Catholic Church (the religion). It had nothing to do with the bumper sticker. But how’d that work for them?
So, the person in the Lexus likely opposes any separation of church and state (as long the church side is Christian). They claim to be one of 215-million US citizens identifying as Christian (now 65%, down from 75% in 2015, according to PEW Research), and one of the 16-million Texans (53% says ASARB) who identify as such.
I must assume the Lexus Christian has no qualms forcing his or her religious beliefs onto non-Christians. What a strange way to wring out freedom of religion (so long as it’s Christian) from the US Constitution. And they are downright proud of it, in a much holier than thou sort of way.
Then I pondered on with ideas for I’m (something), and I vote stickers. My ideas:
I’m old and I vote. I’m (single, married, divorced) and I vote. I eat bacon and I vote (hello CA).
I’m bald and I vote. I’m non-denominational and I vote. I’m an Aggie and I vote.
I drink and I vote (but not at the same time). I’m (Irish, German, Mexican, Swedish, Mediterranean, Apache, or ???) and I vote.
I’m atheist and I vote. I worship Satan and I vote. I’m (rich, poor, middle income) and I vote (and hopefully pay taxes). I’m antigovernment and I vote anyway.
I read and I vote. I’m a writer, artist, creative person, and I vote. I’m a teacher and I vote. I’m a flat Earther and I vote. I’m an old yellow dog and I vote.
I’m a (vegetarian, vegan, meat eater, vampire) and I vote. I’m a nudist and I vote. I’m a pluviophile and I vote. I am apathetic and I vote (I just don’t care).
I’m snarkastic and I vote. I like rock and roll, and I vote. I (do or don’t) own a gun or play golf, and I vote. I drink coffee and I vote. I can dance and I vote.
How about you? Do you vote? Do you have any stickers on your car, bike, computer, or whatever?
Twenty-five years ago, I began to find comfort in admitting I was wrong when I realized or thought I was. Who knew? Before that, being right was important. Then, poof—it wasn’t.
To that 12-step teaching (tenth step, admitting wrong) I would add fewer apologies, or saying “I’m sorry” when I was harmlessly wrong. Out of habit, I still say it when I do no harm. But I try not to. I’ve decided apologizing too much might reduce the sincerity of my true contrition when something was mea culpa.
I’ve had ideas. We all do. Most of mine have been based on nothing more than my personal preference or life experiences. When what I thought I knew turned out to be wrong, admitting that simply ended things. Life continued peacefully.
This morning, on his Patheos.com blog, I read James H. Haught’s piece, “Skepticism is All About Honesty” (July 21, 2021, FFRF). Therein, he relates a eureka moment when someone told him the “answer” is “I don’t know.” I recall speakers and teachers admitting temporary ignorance but promising to return after some research. Many did. It is a good way to go.
Haught goes on to write, “To me, the bottom line is honesty. A person with integrity doesn’t claim to know supernatural things that he or she cannot know.” I agree, but my reasons are little more personal and emotional.
Of course, honesty is important. Claiming to possess knowledge one cannot possibly have is not only dishonest, everyone knows of the dishonesty, except for the delusional (as so many are). But when I realized that I could say I don’t know to any question, I felt a sense of relief that is still difficult for me to describe.
I don’t know how the universe came to be, if our solar system was a coincidence, or if there is life in any form after death. I don’t know of life in other galaxies. I have no idea if nature has consciousness or what that might look like. I have no clue about why so many humans are either evil or good. I don’t know if human energy is healing. I do not need to know any of that.
When someone tells me, “There must be something,” such as a god or consciousness, I ask, “why must there be?” There certainly might be, could be, or we may like there to be. Something may feel good or be comforting about ideas. I get that. Indeed, there may be a cause or a reason for things that happen. But I’m not feeling the must, as in compelled by fate or natural law, or any other definition of must.
I’m unopposed to differing hypotheses or opinions, but that is what most proposed answers are, something less than a theory. If there is scientific evidence, proof, or if a concrete theory is developed and tested, that would be wonderful. Until then, I don’t know. If I find out, I’ll get back with you. I assume you will do likewise.
I cannot say I am sorry that I do not believe what others do, or that I think something true they may deny. If I am wrong and someone convinces me of that, fine. It happens. If I learn something I did not know, even better. But if no skin was removed from any part of anyone’s anatomy (or wallet), I am unlikely to apologize for being wrong. I was wrong and I am not sorry.
Xin loi (xin lỗi, pronounced zin-loy) is a polite Vietnamese phrase which literally means excuse me or pardon me. I like it. However, during the Viet Nam War, American soldiers used the phrase sardonically to mean something like sorry about that (or worse). When I’m mistaken, I’d like to say excuse me or pardon me. But, since xin loi was hijacked, I will settle for saying excusez moi, perhaps with a wee touch of snarkastic arrogance, for which I am so sorry.
Because I’ve been lurking around medical clinics and hospitals for the past few weeks, their protocol required I be tested twice for Coronavirus. Both times the results emailed to me said, None Detected. Then they cautioned me with, “A negative test does not exclude an active SARS-CoV-2 infection…. Documentation of infection may be possible by retesting or testing of other specimen sources.” In other words, there is no proof that I am not infected. They just have no evidence that I am. Only a positive finding is proof.
A couple years ago, virtually everyone (doctors, family, me, and at least one surgeon) identified a lump on my forearm as a cyst. There was no discomfort or symptoms to indicate otherwise. I had it removed for the sake of my vanity. The operating surgeon removed the tissue, showed it to me, and said, see, it is just a cyst.
Later, pathology determined the specimen was cancerous. Following months of treatment, I’m now periodically monitored by medical science for recurrence. So far so good. While some may say that I am cancer free, I don’t use that term. I, and other cancer patients, prefer use of the initialism, NED, which means no evidence of disease. Medical science, without evidence to the contrary, was unable to claim that I positively had cancer at the time of the test. I’ll take it. Unless they prove otherwise, it isn’t there.
When I confessed atheism to a friend, she asked me if I could prove there is no god. I told her that while I couldn’t, I didn’t have to prove it. The requirement, at least for me, is that if I am to accept or believe the existence of something (COVID, cancer, or a god), there must be sufficient convincing evidence of existence. I don’t know what that evidence or proof might be, especially regarding something like a god, a black hole in space, or an exploding star.
It gets complicated. Which god am I to have evidence for? Do you claim only one?
How do I know that such evidence supports that specific god and not some other?
If there is “something” out there because someone (not me) can just feel it to be so, or because all this exists, or because there are stars in the sky, what does any of that prove? We perceive and experience many things, like bizarre nightmares, emotional trauma, or mental euphoria. It rains, plants grow, life continues, and there is a Universe.
If someone asks me why I do not believe in any god, especially theirs, I simply say I know of no proof that such an entity exists at all, much less one that is of a supreme being or god status. I may ask why that person chooses to believe in a god. They are usually much more committed and convinced of existence than I am in doubt. However…
In every case I can think of, the discussion about belief ends with what is called faith. Faith is seldom defined in the same way by believers and skeptics. Simply put, some folks prefer to believe a god exits than to admit ultimate agnosticism. No one knows if there is a god. In that case, NED is for noevidence of deity.
When I sneeze or blow my nose, my wife asks if I am catching a cold. Or, it could be the flu. Or it could be allergies. Or it could be nothing, just dust particles in the air or pepper in my nose. I never know. Only by testing to prove a positive can any hypothesis be supported.
I strongly doubt the existence of what most people claim as god. I make no serious claim that some sort of intelligence or deity absolutely does not exist, although I have said as much to counter the claim that there is a god.
It is possible that I have COVID-19, cancer, a cold, or that I am insane, but I’m simply unaware because no positive evidence indicates otherwise (although the latter diagnosis has been offered).
For me, religion is another matter. Religion exists, immaterial of a god’s existence. Either there is a god or there’s not, regardless of anyone’s beliefs. I try to write about the existence of god and the efficacy of religion separately, even though they should be closely related.
Years ago, an acquaintance said this to me as a sarcastic joke. “Quitting smoking is hard, but it takes a real man to face cancer.” Poor taste (we did that), but it makes the point.
A few weeks ago, my daughter posted a similar, but less sarcastic, meme on her Facebook page. The graphic had a picture of C. Darwin and a comment invoking evolutionary survival for those who refuse to take precautions to prevent getting or spreading COVID-19. It said, “If you don’t want to quarantine, it’s okay.” Innocuous enough. If you’ve been exposed, tested positive, or diagnosed it is not okay not to quarantine. However, it attracted comment from a troll since she posted it as public.
While the middle aged man from Abilene, TX, said mostly illogical and incoherent things, and he invoked Communism for reasons only he and his ilk comprehend, his gist was that people are wearing surgical masks and other mouth/nose coverings due to irrational fear. A quick look at his page supported his opinionated hypothesis with memes poking fun at (or insulting) people who mask up. People like me.
For the record, the man currently holding the office of POTUS, two of his predecessors (Bush2 and Clinton1), and I all turn 74 years of age this summer. In my case, I have two manageable, non-life-threatening (in the near term), underlying conditions (as they call them) that would make COVID-19 probably deadly for me. I’ve also had surgery for cancer and am constantly monitored (scanned) for recurrence. Fear? Me? There is more.
I was born into and grew up in a family supported by a subterranean coal miner. Going underground to mine has been a top ten dangerous job for hundreds of years. I attended the funerals of friends and classmate’s fathers who died from cave-ins, flash floods, and explosions. I do not recall my father worried or fearful of going to work, although unions and others tried to improve working conditions with limited success. He feared flying until he did, then he was fine.
I spent years wearing a uniform in foreign countries where I was advised to be unpredictable and to alter my route to and from work for safety. I flew airplanes strapped to ejection seats (upward and downward), wearing an oxygen mask, a helmet, and able to recite from memory and to demonstrate emergency procedures. I never did this out of fear. It was my job. Although I lived through some very scary moments, fear would have negatively affected my performance (the cliché is to choke). It was wisdom, professionalism, and training, not fear, that enabled a young aviator to become this old one.
I have my car inspected (safety inspection) and drive on good tires with good brakes, and I wear my seatbelt because it is a smart thing to do (and the law), but not because I am afraid. Indeed, the driving habits of some people I must share the road with motivate me. It is not fear. I drive carefully and defensively, but not fearfully.
I have ridden a motorcycle for years. I wear a helmet, protective gloves, long pants, good shoes, and cover my face, neck, and arms because I think it is foolish not to. I dress for the crash that will not happen, not for the ride. My first times riding in the rain, riding on interstate highways in highspeed traffic, and other scary situations were tense. I felt fear due to my lack of knowledge, experience, and skill. I no longer fear riding. It’s fun. I also believe that motorcycle riding, like aviation, is inherently dangerous. Fact, not fear.
I drive near legal/recommended speed limits or less. I slow down for corners and sharp curves/turns. I ride sober. I look all around and try to predict the actions of others in cars and trucks. I avoid riding in high wind, rainstorms, ice or snow, darkness, heavy traffic, or busy interstate highways. I have done it all and found them dangerous, but often unavoidable. I mitigate risk and avoid unnecessary danger. That is being responsible, not afraid.
I advise friends and loved ones to be careful. Not out of fear, but as wisdom. I am not paranoid, and I enjoy the risk of life as much as anyone. I do not jump out of perfectly good airplanes, but I know how to wear and use a parachute. One of my favorite musical stanzas is from the song, For What It’s Worth,
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you’re always afraid…
COVID-19 is a deadly reality. I wish it on no one. I take precautions with many things in life. I consider it foolish not to wear a protective mask in crowded areas during the current pandemic. I try not to let my politics or opinion cloud my judgment or warp my wisdom.
I will continue to wear a mask and have negative thoughts about those who do not because I believe they are putting my life and that of others unnecessarily at risk. For some, it appears to be about politics rather than health, welfare, and science.
The people like the man who trolled my daughter’s post will never convince me that I must be an unmasked brave fool who refers to death by COVID-19 as “thinning the herd,” as he did. It has been an awfully long time since I was dared to do something stupid and called a fraidy-cat by another child.
I have no fear of wearing a mask; be it surgical, oxygen, Halloween, neck tube (Buff or gator) pulled up, or CPAP. Fools may never forgive me, but I’m gunna pass on that kind of stupid.
I got through most of my life without knowing the meaning of metaphysics. I didn’t care. I saw it online and had to ask. Then I had to look it up. I still didn’t care very much, but I had a name for what other people seemed to hold in high regard, like a religion.
Metaphysics is a branch of philosophy consisting of ontology (dealing with the nature of being), and cosmology (the science of the origin and development of the universe). It can be deep stuff and fun bar talk after a few rounds. But there is woo-woo. There is always woo-woo.
New Age and nonempirical ideas such as energy (like chi and prana), ideas like being balanced, harmonized, tuned, aligned, unblocked, and mellow. Okay, maybe not mellow. While I don’t believe in that stuff, I don’t sit with my back to the door either.
In one sense, metaphysics is often used with ideas of what is real, the nature of beings, and the theory of mind and mental phenomena such as ideas, perceptions, memory, consciousness, and so forth. That all seems reasonable to me.
But metaphysics also gets rolled into broad theories of reality. These would be like materialism and dualism, the nature of reality, why something and not nothing. I’m not even sure I can mentally grasp the concept of nothingness. Is there free will? Is there always cause? Has the Universe always existed? Are there spiritual beings and life after death?
This stuff is not scientific. I had my time battling it out in conversation with friends who saw things in a different way. I’m sure I enjoyed it at the time. I just didn’t know or care what it was called.
Some of it is nonsense. But some of a lot of interesting things is nonsense. Like the existence of god, most metaphysical stuff cannot be proven nor successfully refuted. But maybe that’s where the fun lives.
Justification is a concept I don’t recall being in my metaphysical pandora’s box or my highest theological concept. I still don’t care, but I needed a word for J -day.
In the Jesus brand of theology, justification is god’s removing the guilt and penalty of sin (call it hell). If you spin your English just right, you get to go to a good place instead of the bad one. But you must have faith and believe. To Christians, this makes sense.
Since the Protestant Reformation, and probably before, justification was and area of significant disagreement. It is also an area of significant theological fault that, to this day, divides Roman Catholicism from the Lutheran and Reformed traditions of Protestantism.
Catholics, Methodists, and Orthodox distinguish between initial justification, which occurs at baptism, (ala infant baptism) and final salvation, accomplished after a lifetime of doing what you’re supposed to.
In Lutheranism and Calvinism, righteousness in the eyes of God is viewed as being credited to the sinner’s account through faith alone, without works, which maybe fodder for W-day.
My point here is that all these branches of Christianity, supposedly one religion, have fought over this woo-woo hair-splitting nonsense for reasons none of us probably care much about.
Atheists, agnostics, Muslims, Hindu, and Buddhists need not worry. There is no justification for any of this.
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.
Given what I know about Aaron Rodgers, the quarterback of the Green Bay Packers NFL team, I like him. I enjoy football. I appreciate some of the personalities and the entertainment value of the game, particularly now as the 2019-2020 season ends with the traditional championship game. Rodgers and the Pack lost the NFC championship to the San Francisco 49ers, but they ended the season as one of the league’s top four teams.
Danica Patrick is Rodger’s girlfriend and has a podcast. So, Aaron and Danica, who is a professional race car driver, decided to do a podcast where she interviews him. Of the hour and three quarters interview, they spend about 12 minutes talking about Aaron’s religious and spiritual views. When one is famous, as both are, one becomes a target for lazy media employees looking for fodder; c’est la vie.
For some reason, People magazine reporter Steve Helling, and later Fox News’ Melissa Roberto, published virtually the same article about the episode Patrick and Rodgers did on Danica’s Pretty Intense (that’s the title of the podcast) show on 26 December of last year.
Helling, later repeated by Roberto, reported that an unidentified Rodger’s family insider said the interview upset members of Aaron Rodger’s family. They reported that Rodger’s comments “about his religious upbringing” offended his family who were dismayed. “The source” told the magazine that “His (Aaron’s) comments were very hurtful to his family” but that they “Still love Aaron very much.” That, despite years of familial estrangement.
I listened to the entire podcast once and the portion in question several times. You can listen by clicking here – relevant comments are from about the 17-minute point to about 30.
Not one family member was mentioned anywhere in the interview. Not one disparaging remark is made about anyone else by either Patrick or Rodgers. His family issues, which are none of my business, have been reported in the past and Danica has pledged to help promote healing and reconciliation, if she can.
The People article included some quotes that seemed accurate. Here is what Aaron Rogers said of his personal spirituality and religious opinion.
Rodgers told Patrick that he “had gone down a path to a different type of spirituality” that is more meaningful to him.
Rogers said, “I don’t know how you can believe in a God who wants to condemn most of the planet to a fiery hell.” Maybe he should have said worship instead of “believe in.” I’ve had a practicing Catholic priest tell me the same thing.
He also said, “What type of loving, sensitive, omnipresent, omnipotent being wants to condemn his beautiful creation to a fiery hell at the end of all this?”
And, “Religion can be a crutch, it can be something that people have to make themselves feel better.” Of that he said, “I don’t have a problem with it,” referring to the religious views of others.
Rodgers said that he enjoys “learning about other religions.” Horrifying, right?
If anyone in Rodger’s family got their panties in a wad over any of that, or the rest of the podcast, they need to grow up and loose the chip on their shoulder.
I have my doubts about the anonymous source’s credibility. I can see how, in some cases, and in some religions, some people could find room to disagree with Rodgers. But to be “dismayed” or to say such comments are “very hurtful” is at least overboard. Maybe Danica has her Rodgers family reconciliation challenge cut out for her. This interview was not the first time Aaron’s spirituality or family dysfunction has been talked about.
Lastly, Rodgers referred to the religion of his childhood as “antiquated.” Again, that’s not an insult (give me that old time religion). At no time did Aaron identify as atheist, agnostic, or skeptic (but Danica used that last term during questions, he did not). To me, Aaron Rodgers seems to be a searcher on the right path, perhaps with a Humanist compass.
The issue here is that two people who work in the news business (I am not usually anti media) took an opportunity to swipe at a guy for saying what he thinks about a personal topic, statements with which many believers agree, on his girlfriend’s podcast.
While I agree that we are all responsible for what we say and do, People magazine and Fox published a misleading report citing a nameless source that impinges upon the very constitutional freedoms those corporate entities and their employees seem to be hypocritically misrepresenting. Shame on them.
I know. That seems like a silly (maybe stupid) question.
The online Merriam Webster dictionary defines anti-religious as opposing or hostile to religion or to the power and influence of organized religion. It states that an anti-religious person may have a religious bias (Merriam-Webster.com).
Really? But then, wouldn’t a religious person have a pro-religious bias?
I define an atheist as a person who, at the very least, doubts, questions, or is skeptical of the existence of any god. This doubt, to some degree, may range from there might not be a god to a level of certitude that no deity exists. The problem is that one can be religious based on practices and behavior (not belief) and still share the maybe not doubt.
It gets more complicated when the picture of relationship with a deity is considered. This is when the concept of religion is presented. I claim to be atheist. I also think I understand why people may say they believe in god, why they practice some religion, and why they think I should.
To many, religion and god are inseparable. While the two belong together, I doubt the inseparable part.
Either a god exists, or it doesn’t. While no belief or religion changes anything about existence, religion most definitely effects what theists believe. It also influences how someone thinks and behaves vis-à-vis the belief in that a deity, spirit, or a god. It is not I believe, therefore I’m religious; it’s more like, I’m religious, therefore I believe.
The problem is that religion, while unquestionably a human creation, is the process of how we should deal with said god, which is, hypothetically, not a creation of humans. Religion dogmatizes the protocol with the vastness of spiritual trappings that accompany a god spirit.
I don’t know how many religions exist, but even within each there are likely disputing denominations. Further disparity exists with personal-level religious selective interpretations by people in the millions.
An atheist is a disbeliever in god—all gods and spirits. However, if someone believes in any one god and none of the hundreds (if not thousands) of others, one is still considered a believer even though he or she may insist that none of the other gods ever existed, thus a disbeliever in the majority.
Antitheism is similar, if not synonymous with anti-religious, in that it applies to people who view theism as dangerous, destructive, or encouraging harmful behavior. For example, Christopher Hitchens wrote, “I’m not even an atheist so much as I am an antitheist; I not only maintain that all religions are versions of the same untruth, but I hold that the influence of churches, and the effect of religious belief, is positively harmful.” (Hitchens, Christopher (2001). Letters to a Young Contrarian, New York: Basic Books)
Okay. All religions…harmful. I agree.
A member of a musical ensemble recently told me she was distracted playing music in a church setting because she was not a believer but said that she was not an atheist in the sense that I was. Maybe she intended to say that she was not as militant as I may be. She may have been thinking me antitheist.
The comment surprised me because I was uncertain of her meaning. I would have no problem playing music in a church and sitting through the service. I’ve sat through many. My friend’s view of my personal atheism was much more antitheist and anti-religious than I think I am. Yet, to a degree I accept Hitch’s assessment. And she may be correct in that my atheism, especially as an American atheist, comes with a certain amount of anti-religion bias. I think all religion is nonsense, but I am not a religiophobe, Islamophobic, nor anti-god squad. Yet, the man with a gun over there scares me.
I think religion is pointless because the elusiveness of a god of any kind is part of virtually every religion (nix nature worshipers, some polytheists, and Buddhist-like groups). I also hold that religion has been, and may continue to be, harmful to humanity. I find this erroneous opinion of my view regarding religion to be common even among other atheists and agnostics. I also find it hard to explain because it’s not black and white.
I stopped practicing religion because after 30 years of searching for the right one, 12 years in the house of the best I could manage, and swimming in the deep end of my ministerial practice at the threshold of ordination, it dawned on me that it was all one big con. With no evidence of the existence of any god, it was clearly all woo-woo bull shit, even if occasionally psychologically helpful to some, and pointless.
Of course, some religious groups do a lot of good. Practitioners make clear that they are kind to others, the downtrodden, the sick and weak, and in very practical ways comforting to many who need it. None of that do they attempt to cover up like the harm that is done.
But they also play the victim. God is on their side of course, but they still manage to be poor and pitiful, yet fully control government and laws. And all that good? Every good thing done in the name of a religion or a god can be, and often is, done without religion or god, except for the ever-valuable, anti-materialist, thoughts and prayers.
My bias toward any religion? Of course, I have some.
Many religious believers and religions have built in biases toward other religions, sects, and denominations. I saw a bumper sticker that said, “If you support abortion [reproductive choice] you cannot be Catholic.” I may have some bias toward good people who are religious or practice some religion. But only to a limited degree in that the following of religion obviously taints anyone. Anti-fundamentalist? Definitely. I hope I continue to be opposed to any form of inflexible closed mindedness. Especially my own (Ok, boomer).
Dispassionate Doubt 