Is god’s name God?

I know there are other names for the current one true Abrahamic god, and names for thousands of other gods who’ve fallen from popularity but were once worshiped by the masses.

We humans all seem to have a name (Bill) or a title (Dad or Opa) to differentiate us one from the other. We name pets, cars, places, illnesses.

Christians have three gods. The nameless father, the son is called Jesus Christ (but we all know that was not his real name), and the holy ghost/spirit was invented to make an unnecessary and meaningless third. But it’s all one.

Talk to the Hindus. They know how to name gods, for Christ’s sake. The planets have cool god names, except this one unless you want to stretch either Adam or Eve. But there’s Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Pluto (or maybe that was a dog’s name) and others. My daughter’s dog is named Thor.

Some Jewish folk write God as G-d as some form of respect. I would not feel respected if someone wrote B-ll. But I’m not considered a god even by the ones who call me Dad and Opa.

The commandment says we should not take god’s name in vain. Yet, the only time we do that is the JC name. Most of the god damn its and such expressions could be any god since no name is used. When Christians end a prayer with, in Jesus’ name, amen, why is that not a sin? Seems in vain to me.

There is the Jehovah name. If that is that god’s real name, who gave it to him? And if god is her, Jehovah seems so wrong. The Romans and Greeks had wonderful names for goddesses.

If God is god’s name, why the lower case in scripture? Even the devil has been given several proper monikers with which to be addressed. And that Rolling Stones’ song, Sympathy for The Devil ends with this name-game verse.

What’s my name
Tell me, baby, what’s my name
Tell me, sweetie, what’s my name

I’ve always called god by the name God. How un-creative of me! But Hey You, seems downright ungentlemanly.

Bill

Do you believe Hell is real? That Satan is a real thing?

If you ever believed in a god or something like that, did you ever either accept or believe in the personification of evil, a being that tempts people to act or think against the wishes of a Supreme Being? A being that takes the soul of a very bad person and ensures a sort of eternal painful karma?

As a child, the demonic scapegoat was not emphasized to me. As much as I may have accepted some sort of god, I cannot recall ever going all in on the Lucifer/fallen angel myth, with one exception. The Exorcist movie scared the Hell out of me, or should I say, the fear into me? I was an adult parent with one child by then (1973 or so).

However, I probably dropped any thought of a devil or a Hell for eternal suffering long before I flushed the whole Trinity thing along with any remaining number of evil spirits. I discovered that several Catholic Priests agreed with me that at the very least, all the devil and hell stuff was nonsense cooked up to scare people. Even the Pope had said that Hell was a state after death of not being with God, not a place.

As I did the final onion peel by removing the last vestiges of religion and theistic or deistic things from my pages of mental acceptance, the first to go was related to the problem of evil, Hell as anything real before or after death, and any spirit world, either good or evil.

After I managed to get over all of that, which I only quasi-accepted in the first place, the god balloon simply popped. All religion went with it: New Age, Pantheism, Eastern Religious beliefs and philosophies, Witches, and the like. I appreciate reality and science as much as any atheist, but in no way is any of that comparable to religion or any belief in a god-like entity.

Many people want to say god is love and other worn out tropes that tell us that they probably at least downplay any concept of Hell and devils without tossing out the heavenly eternal life part. This works well for them because one merely needs to repent and all will be forgiven, at least on that side of the Christian street. I’m not sure everyone agrees.

Is belief in eternal damnation required to avoid it? If one lives a good life, is that sufficient? Believers would answer those two questions with both yes and no. I never took a course in the Sociology (or psychology) of Religion. I wish I had.

I like the idea of love or at least being neighborly and caring about people. However, when my neighbor is an asshole, I neither love her or him, nor do I care about them. In fact, I often wish karma could be real (except not applied to me). But love is still better than the other options, except…

The other two emotions I can think of that seem to have as much, or more, influence on humans are fear and hate. I am so happy that religion does not teach fear and hate. Or would that be why the Lucifer and Hell myths assume such prominence in religion, particularly Christianity and Islam, both religions of love and peace (sarcasm, in case you missed it)?

As for hate, you be the judge. Just don’t leave out the history of virtually every prominent religion on earth.

Bill

Do You Believe in Something?

I favor separating my discussions regarding the existence of god or gods from those about religion or religious denominations and sects. This is partly why.

I would have thought that, are you an atheist? and do you believe in god? were two versions of the same question. Apparently not.

In America, when someone asks if I believe in god, what do they mean? When I answer, what am I claiming? Are the inquisitors asking the same question I think I’m answering?

According to PEW Research, it is not always as simple as yes you do, or no you don’t. As we know, and as PEW suggests, within specific religions or religious denominations, members may not agree even though they admit to a belief in the same god and claim to practice the same religious denomination.

PEW did two surveys, one here and one in Europe. In the American survey, (view article here) wherein they worked out some clarity, the researchers claim that while 80% said they do believe in god, one third of that “yes” group does not believe in the god of the Bible.

Only two-thirds of that “believing” group believe in the god of Abraham. That’s 56% when you apply the sample to the total, or slightly more than half of the USA population. That does not mean, however, that the other 44% does not believe in god.

While 19% of the respondents said they do not believe in “god,” almost half of those who said no (9%) correspond with about a third of the people who said that they do believe in god. In other words, overall, one third of Americans, whether they profess a belief in god or not, think there is a higher power or spiritual force of some kind, according to PEW. I find that interesting.

PEW thus claims that according to their survey only 10% of Americans believe there is no higher power, spiritual force, deity, or god. We can split hairs regarding definitions of belief, disbelief, doubting, skepticism, and all of that. What PEW is suggesting is that while many of us claim not to believe in god, about half of those do believe that there is “something.”

It’s different in Europe. There, this number of nonbelievers is multiplied by 2.5 (about 25%) since a much greater number claim no belief in the higher power/spiritual force.

I think these surveys are interesting and have some merit. They are more in the food for thought category than good answers because people lie all the time. The whole social survey construct must be viewed with some degree of skepticism. Culture and human nature play into the answers. In the United States we are more likely to say we do believe in god when we don’t. In Europe, the reverse is likely.

A Jew, Christian, or Muslim might see someone who dismisses the god of Abraham but suspects a higher power or spiritual force exists as Pagan or even atheist. On the other hand, an avowed atheist may see the same person as a believer, just not in the Biblical sense.

I know people who claim to be Wiccan or Pagan. I have had discussions with some who use the terms Universe or Nature in the sense of a higher power or spiritual force. That makes sense because when we say god, most believers assume we mean what they believe, the god of the Bible, for example.

So, if someone asks me if I believe in god, my answer is “no.”
But maybe it should be more like this…

Please explain your question.
What do you mean by god?
What do you mean by believe?
Why do you ask?

While my accurate and honest answer is, I do not believe in any god, higher power, or spiritual force, perhaps it’s not a question for which I have such a simple answer. If the water is muddy or cloudy for the likes of PEW Research, it is a communication quandary for me. It’s as complicated as we are, but that is why it’s so damn interesting.

Bill

Poetry: To Be Chosen

To be chosen, preferred, favored
from among the many typed or penned
by Him,
to be selected as a creation
of Creations,
to know this favoritism
is of His own doing
brings light with pleasure.

Gratification being a true piece
of self,
of Him,
of art.

Is there to be joy
in words
or pity for the many
not so selected?

How does the poem know the poet?

He who worked weeks
to trickle a passive single
or wildly, emotionally
swinging for the fence
and finding a home run
from the glory of gut—
if it is sin, prideful sin.

Essay: The Sin of Simony

I had forgotten about this until I read it as yesterday’s word of the day. Basically, it is profiting from ecclesiastical things by selling or buying them. The Catholic Church had problems with it back in the 800-900 CE time, and still does, in my opinion and the opinion of many Lutherans or other protestants. The selling of indulgences comes to mind. It is no stretch for me to see the whole tithing thing as sort of simony-short. I see all religion as a cloak for power, money, control, and greed. The rotten roots of an evil institution.

Even going back to my childhood, I could always see the immorality of preachers, religions (especially protestant ones), and others hawking salvation for cash. I felt I had backing with the story about Jesus going ballistic with the money changers at the Temple. TV charlatans would not want to take that biblical passage too literally.

Today, the mix of money openly solicited by religious entities, the millions (or billions) of dollars showered on TV preachers (you know who I’m talking about) point to the sin of simony and the foolishness of those who donate (looking for tax relief) trying to buy the love of god.

When I was growing up, we had “poor boxes” at the back of the church into which we would put coins, ostensibly used by god to help the poor through the Church, if not funneled directly to the starving children in Africa, still starving some 60 years later.

A few poor folks eventually expedited the distribution process by robbing the poor boxes (maybe with an eye to a future career in TV evangelism), thus resulting in removal of the donation boxes from the sacristy.

I wonder if they have been replaced yet by credit card readers for donations and the payment for lighting a candle for the dearly departed. I can do that at the checkout stand at my local grocery store. I do, but not for the promise of soul salvation. It’s so much easier than putting out cans or boxes of expired, over-salted, veggies for the food bank to be collected by the post office.

Simony is a sin committed by many Christians without a thought for the obvious hypocrisy. But if you’ll send me 10% of your annual net, I will say a prayer for you, thus guaranteeing you eternal salvation with only minimal time for purgatorial purification. I have evidence to prove that god listens more closely to the prayers of atheists then he does of rambling (doomed to hell) preachers and money collectors promising cures or eternal heaven.

Bill

Aaron Rodgers was on Danica Patrick’s podcast…

So what? Right?

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.

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

You fucked up. You trusted us.

My wife and I were watching television when a commercial came on for Peter Popoff’s Miracle Water, featuring the 73-year-old exposed con man himself. We had a good laugh and still joke about ordering some of that water every time a problem or unpleasant issue comes into our lives. Popoff, Robert Tilton (also 73), and other quacks offer solutions (even to cancer) if we send (seed) money. I decided to research and write about these charlatans for this week’s post on Dispassionate Doubt.

I was going to do my best to shred the phonies (aren’t they all?) and poke fun at the ignoramuses who fall for the legal untaxed scams by sending money, even if they must borrow it. Then something more interesting happened: I looked in my bathroom mirror.

I grew up as, and spent much of my life as, a practicing (or a non-practicing) Roman Catholic. I recall as a child when my religious family scoffed at the goofy frauds back then, be they on television, radio, or another media broad-or-narrowcasting. I laughed too. This has a lot to do with the formation of my anti-religion views, especially when my friends (critics) ask, what harm does it do? If you don’t know, keep reading, and watch John Oliver’s video.

Have you ever been to a catholic bookstore? It’s not all books. Superstition abounds in the Catholic Church, even while the ecclesiastical leadership attempts to dissuade parishioners from believing the nonsense of which they disapprove, while approving boatloads of crap they find reason to believe.

One day someone handed me a bottle of holy water from Lourdes, France. Lourdes is the location of several apparitions of Mary in the mid-1800s, which the church approved as real, even making Bernadette (the child who saw Mary) a saint. I rubbed a drop on a dry spot on the back of my left hand. Within a week the spot had vanished. If I believed it was the water that precipitated the cure, would it be a miracle or superstition?

I began to wonder if, as a man who probably spent (or sent) money for magical trinkets and may have at least accepted some of the superstition as possible, I might be a bit hypocritical by demeaning the TV crooks and the morons who send them money (oops, too late).

I was a major financial donor in my old parish. Money that was subsequently wasted by priests and bishops (that’s who controls parish or diocese funds) for their own personal benefit, not so unlike today’s TV crooks.

With a little help from a search engine, I found this site (click for link) which sells everything to procure the favor of a god, saint, or angel. Notice the list of items on the left. The 14^th item down is a Saint Joseph home selling kit. Jesus’ stepdad was apparently the first real estate agent.

With the cautioned proviso that one does not see this as a superstition because it pisses off the Pope, one may purchase the kit, bury the statue of the saint in the back yard, upside down for some reason, and then pray like hell for top dollar for the house. It is a tradition, not a superstition (play canned laughter).

Reading a piece on the Friendly Atheist blog, I discovered his posting of a link to a 20-minute segment from John Oliver’s show on television evangelists. If you have not seen it, you should. It’s hilarious!