When I First Believed and Didn’t

“What could be more foolish than to base one’s entire view of life on ideas that, however plausible at the time, now appear to be quite erroneous? And what would be more important than to find our true place in the universe by removing one by one these unfortunate vestiges of earlier beliefs?”—-Francis Crick, What Mad Pursuit: A Personal View of Scientific Discovery, 1988

“Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes.”—Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s Fan, 1892, Act III (Mr. Dumby to Cecil Graham)

I was baptized before I was two weeks old. I don’t recall much of that day. I don’t think I believed in God or any of the other religious things I later would. The religious reason for the Catholic Sacrament at that age was that if I had died, I would not go to heaven unless baptized. I would go to Limbo with all the other unbaptized, until the Church decided that Limbo did not really exist.

I went to a Catholic school taught by nuns. We didn’t go to Mass in Kindergarten, but starting with First Grade, 9:00 a.m. Mass (in Latin) was mandatory. We sat up front with our class, boys on one side, girls on the other until graduation at the end of 8^th grade. I went to public high school for 9^th through 12^th grade.

In grade school, I was taught about God, Jesus, the Blessed Trinity, and all the religious stuff I could fit into my brain. I believed it. I had some arguments about it with my father because I stood by what the nuns and priests told us. He was old school and much stricter. He always had the option of asking the ordained and religious, but he never did.

To the extent that a boy between the ages of six and fourteen can believe what he has been told about god and all the other religious stuff, I believed. I can’t say that I had a specific Jesus is my lord and savior moment because we didn’t do that.

In my personal world, I believed two other things: everyone I knew was Catholic and everyone believed in god. Neither was correct. I can’t say exactly when I came to believe of my own volition, or even if I did.

In the summer of 1960, I turned 14. That September I began an excursion into the realities of the somewhat secular educational world. I did not escape having god and religion forced upon me. We still prayed in school and had bible readings (mandatory state law) until June of 1963. My senior year began the following September.

After that, neither prayer nor bible reading could be constitutionally mandated or school sponsored. I would not have labeled myself as a nonbeliever at that point. A serious doubter might work. During that final year of high school, I was probably a practical atheist in that while I considered myself to be Catholic, I did not practice the religion.

Thirty years later, during the 1990s my religious opinions and behaviors might be viewed as a metal ball bouncing around the playing field of a pinball machine. The flippers and bumpers would knock me into other ideas or possibilities. I’d bounce off one bumper and into another, then another.

In the mid-90s, my spiritual reading and experimenting increased. I was a nonbeliever trying to believe. I was a seeker or searcher in the spiritual sense. I became seriously interested in eastern religious thought, spirituality, and meditation, some of it New Age nonsense. During that time I read Thomas Merton’s autobiography, The Seven Story Mountain, and decided to give Catholicism one more try.

Merton described seeing a deeply religious woman in a church. He envied her faith. I had the same experience. I was going to do everything I could to get this god and religion thing right. I convinced myself that there was a god. I felt that I had overcome my doubts forever. For almost 12 years, I did.

It was a cannonball dive into the deep end of the Christian religion and the Catholic Church. I did everything I could: taught bible study and religious education to adults and children, belonged to as many ministries as I could make time for. Eventually, I was elected President of the Parish Council for two years in our large Parish of more than five thousand families. I even began the process of being ordained as a Deacon, something not taken lightly in the Church or by me, and second only to becoming a Priest. I withdrew late in the process.

I recall teaching an adult class on The Problem of Evil. It had gone well. At the end of the class one lady raised her hand and asked me how I reconciled everything that I had just said with what I believed as a practicing Catholic. I don’t recall my answer.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
—Leonard Cohen, lyrics from his song, Anthem

That was when my transition from Christian to Atheist began. Within two years I walked away from the Catholic Church for good. I disavowed my Catholic faith in writing. Soon thereafter I realized that I did not believe in the existence of any gods, demons, spirits, heaven or hell, or any of it.

I retired three years after leaving the Church and we moved again to yet another state. After about a year there, I was openly atheist. There are several key events and conclusions along my road to disbelief. Each conclusion was preceded by a long time of study, thought, and deciding. That continues.

Just as there was not a date and time when I believed, there was not a specific moment when I decided that I’m a convinced atheist. The metamorphosis was gradual. I simply and incrementally walked away from it all.

Conversation Validity

Neil Carter said he was asked, “What drives you to be so adamant in sharing your atheistic beliefs? What is the driving force behind you? To influence others to be nonbelievers??”

The first part of his response encapsulates my thoughts.

“First of all, to me this question implies that, while it’s laudable for the religious to wear their beliefs on their sleeves and talk about them in public spaces, when nonbelievers openly share about their own perspectives it’s just wrong and, gosh, why would you take it upon yourself to talk about this stuff in public? What’s wrong with you?

“My departure from the faith upset many people, but nothing bothered them more than my decision to start writing and speaking about it openly. That took people from sad to angry really quickly, and that’s because the only socially acceptable atheism is that which keeps its thoughts to itself (my emphasis). That disparity alone is reason enough for people like me to write and speak about why we left.” ~ Neil Carter, Godless in Dixie blog

Visiting Christians

We were expecting company. Friends who are devout/ardent Lutherans (when he is not angry at them and singing with the Baptists). I occasionally wore some jewelry that identified me as atheist, if anyone paid attention (which they don’t). My wife suggested I not wear the items when the two visitors were with us, so as not to upset them. I suggested that my opinion regarding any god was as valid as theirs. She agreed and withdrew her request, but I didn’t wear the items simply to avoid discussion and to prevent my atheism from causing a problem with her friends. Acceptance and tolerance are the best I could do, but that works. Do I handle such things wrong?

They were visiting over a weekend. We decided to drive past several local Lutheran churches so they could see if the right combination of letters appeared on any of the church marquee signs. If so, they would know it was safe for them to attend a Sunday service there. We offered transport, not attendance.

Since they could not identify any of the churches as suitable with the right flavor of Lutheranism, they did not go. Apparently, there are valid synod reasons for not keeping the third commandment (or fourth, depending on how you slice them). Online resources identify 40 different types of Lutheran.

Thou Shalt Not Say It

I was discussing atheism and a book by Sam Harris in an organized mens book club. A few members spent several long uninterrupted minutes explaining something about their religion. An older gentleman interrupted me to say that he was an atheist but never wrote or spoke about it. He just was and that was the end of it. His comment made me realize that many other atheists are likewise silent. They don’t believe in any god and that’s the end of it. Nobody needs to know. Nothing need be said. It might upset the theists. Is that cooperation or submissiveness?

Since then, I have had several people confess their atheism, or that of their loved ones, to me because they knew I had embraced disbelief. That makes me safe. Normally, such confessions are made in private. While I was never asked me to keep a secret, it was clear to me that they (or the loved one), while not exactly closeted, were not public or outspoken.

I Get It

While I understand the reluctance to speak up, all this is very telling. My wife and I were practicing Catholics. That was acceptable, even though several family members and some friends resented it or disapproved, especially in her case since she was a convert from Protestantism. But atheism? That’s a whole other deal. Atheists are considered the worst. For the record, my wife does not claim to disbelieve.

When people choose to keep their opinions private I don’t want a vote or a voice in what they should do, but I have an opinion. If people (atheists, agnostics, free thinkers, skeptics) go through the motions of going to church to avoid a personal conflict or crisis, I understand their actions. But I also know that living a lie for the sake of peace is not heroic, it’s personal martyrdom at the hands of religion to please the religious. I can’t imagine the weight of pretending to be religious for the sake of others. It is a form of reverse religious persecution.

Anyway, other than one friend who simply asked, are you an atheist?, no one has questioned my incredulity. It’s no secret. At least one neighbor knows, my kids all know (I think; not sure of grands), and most, if not all, of my friends know. Yet, believers who don’t know about me will try to flash their religion, church, or prayerfulness at me. I assume their motive is to impress. Do you know what a horse laugh is?

It’s Not Okay

I will not allow anyone to think that I believe in any god or that I practice any religion. That would be unfair to them, to other non-believers, to my friends and family, and to me. When faced with the conversation, I am willing to have it. I will try not to use terms like woo-woo, bullshit, do you really fucking believe that crap?, or holy shit!

I will tell anyone why I am atheist, but first they must tell me what they believe and why they think I should. It is a valid conversation to have. My views are as worthy as anyone’s.

In 21^st Century USA, or anywhere in the world, no one should be imprisoned or burdened by the religions or religious views of friends, neighbors, or family. Freedom of religion must include freedom from religion or there is no freedom at all. If you think otherwise, you do not understand freedom, religion, or history.

Bill

Why I Decided to Identify as Atheist

At my first job after college graduation, I worked with two guys about my age. One was my boss. The other was a guy named Spenser. One day as we walked to the car, Spencer asked me, “Are you a Christian?” I thought it an odd question, but Spencer was an odd man. I said yes. He then asked if I had accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I tried to explain that Catholics don’t use that phrase or see baptism in quite the same way many protestant denominations did.

Then Spenser informed me that unless I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior, I was not a Christian. I had been baptized at eight days of age, had the sacraments of first confession and First Holy Communion, believed that the consecrated wafer was the actual body and blood of Christ, and I took my middle name during the Sacrament of Confirmation in honor of Saint John the Evangelist. I had prayed my ass off for over 20 years to Jesus, to his mum, and (mainly) to his biological father, as well as to other long-forgotten saints. Spenser’s got saved point of view seemed shallow simple to me. However, here in the Bible Belt, it remains the trope de rigueur.

Yet this smugly self-righteous graduate of Ouachita Baptist University and ordained Southern Baptist minister, refuted my claim based on how he and his denomination defined members of the world’s largest religion (Christianity). The differences were how Spenser and I defined a Christian based upon our diverse cultural and religious backgrounds. Despite our hairsplitting points of view, when someone identifies as Christian, Muslim, Jew, or as members of most religions, we generally form a somewhat accurate idea of that religious claim.

For religious purposes, I am forced to classify myself as a none. Apostate Catholic is not an option, even if true. My rejection of all religion is not the same as no preference, but I don’t make the lists. I am ok with Atheist, but it is not a religion, even though some numbskulls claim it is. Since athesit identifies me for what I’m not, I wish there was a better word. There’s not.

Thus, I identify as atheist. I also use skeptic, nonbeliever, freethinker, heathen, or whatever synonym fits the situation. Today, Spenser would be correct. I am not Christian. Some believers who came to know me before discovering my unbelief said I am was one of the good (or nice) atheists. Sometimes that aspect of me can be called cooperative. But I hold a dim view of religion, which would make me neither good nor nice in their view

I avoid the less-offensive terms like agnostic, humanist, or non-religious, even though a case can be made for each applying to me. I eschew the term spiritual because it is confusing (even among atheists) and has its own baggage. The stigma associated with embracing atheism (or any form of religious doubt) troubles me because even as a believer I never shared that negative view most others held of atheists.

I openly identify as atheist so that I can help others understand atheists and atheism. I would like to demonstrate that I am no better and no worse a person because I believe in no gods. I would also like to think that by being open and out I can encourage others to step forward and claim their truth.

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 eight or nine 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

Fandango’s Provocative Question (FPQ) #29

It shouldn’t matter, but it does.

Fandango’s Provocative Question (FPQ) provided me a prompt for my blog. Thanks, man.

This is how Fandango asked the question:

Thomas Jefferson said, “It does me no injury for my neighbor to tell me there are 20 gods or no gods. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.”
The FPQ asks, “Do you agree with Thomas Jefferson that it doesn’t matter or hurt you if people believe in many gods, in one god, or no gods? Why or why not?”

My response takes Jefferson’s comment at face value, since I don’t know the exact context, much less TJ’s thoughts. But I must split a hair. Mister Jefferson spoke of his neighbor telling him gods exist or do not and that causes no harm to Jefferson, or to me. I agree. The people who want to tell me god(s) exist(s) or not cause me no physical pain or financial loss. But that is not how Fandango posed the question.

He asked if it mattered or hurt me if people believe in god or not, and why. The biggest difference in the two is that Jefferson’s comment was personal, Fandango’s question is culturally broader and public: ‘people’ instead of my neighbor; ‘belief’ instead of god. Jefferson did not address belief (although he did in other comments), but the FPQ does.

I read one post in response in which the writer said she resented people doing that (evangelicals or “dedicated atheists”). While she never said if she agreed with Jefferson, that comment implies she does not.

I showed the FPQ to my wife and her reply to it was, “It’s none of my business.” I shook her hand and said, “Welcome to the neighborhood. Have you found a church home yet? Feel free to join us at….”

Yes. What people believe does hurt me! It picks my pocket and breaks my leg. The problem is that virtually all belief in god(s) is mired in some form of religion, even for those believers who claim no religion or eschew organized religion.

Religion is given a privileged status in the USA and much of the world. Some people make fortunes with religion and cry persecution if we ask them to pay taxes. The business of religion is given use of public property and protection (police and fire) without paying for it. I pay more taxes because of that.

I’m not even sure where to begin with physical harm. Maybe I should turn on the news to see what religious group has blown up another today. All Abrahamic scripture says that I should be killed because I do not believe in any god(s). Death threats are not rare over religion, nor is homicide.

What people believe matters to me, and it should to you. “Religion poisons everything.” Freedom of and from religion may be good things, but the greater emphasis should be on the from.

Bill

What is Reality?

I forget the exact words of my friend’s conversation with me. It must have been after one of her trips to Austin for a Deepak Chopra thingy. At the time she was New Age and I was trying to be a practicing Roman Catholic. She did not criticize my religion, but I am sure she thought it wrong (as did evangelicals, Lutherans, and the anti-organized religion crowd, and me today). Something she said led me to a question.

I asked, What about reality? She said, don’t be negative and depressing. I was surprised by her dim view of what she considered reality. Indeed, she’d had a shitty life for the most part, being married to a hopeless misogynistic alcoholic. But my friend’s negative view of reality and her refusal to consider it still troubles me after ten years. Hers was not a unique way to see the world.

Many people deliberately shun all forms of reality. And in my opinion, the same goes for human nature and truth. That was not the only time she assumed she knew my thoughts and motives. The discussion of reality stopped.

Some years prior to that, a professional therapist looked at me and said, “We each have our own reality.” I understood her comment as a mental health professional, considering how individual psychological perspective effects behavior. While I may have bought it at the time, I was skeptical then and don’t agree with her now. Schizophrenics and hypochondriacs may think they live in their own reality, but that reality is part of the illness. It is not part of physical reality, except to them. It is not true (voices or illnesses).

What is imagined does not necessarily exist, although the discussion goes on and on. Because hallucination is a real thing does not mean what is imagined physically exists.

Apparently, reality in the sense of the real physical world is not as simple as many of us see it. However, most of us only deal with our immediate surroundings—the reality we live within. The reality we can sense.

Few of us are philosophers or physicists in the professional or technical sense. Most of us claim to have some form of belief in a god/higher power/supreme being, or some form of yaddy yadda woo-woo, whatever. That belief often goes beyond the point of I think god is real to there is a god. It’s okay to believe (own reality) whatever, but belief or faith does not make it real.

Said belief is either fun, gets one laid, or makes one superior to others. Equality is wonderful. But we seem to want to feel superior to others and to have them acknowledge our better-than-you-ness. The accoutrements of beliefs and corresponding religion make for problems which too many believers are in denial of or blind to (but not all).

In order to solidify objections, we want to engage in the demonizing of others. This is done at every level from the presidency (not just this one) and the popes and virtually all religious leadership, down to the most ordinary of people, some not even practitioners of any religion.

Reality is real stuff. Real people, places, and things. It is not an idea, not a may-or-might be, or any possibility. Reality is what is. You can see it, taste it, feel it, smell it, and hear some of it. If you either want to, or for some reason must, believe something else: fine. It’s not real.

Bill

Why Do You Believe?

A lady who phoned the internet show, The Atheist Experience, said, “I cannot imagine how anyone could be an atheist.” Despite a long and patient discussion with the show’s co-hosts, she never really changed her view, outlook, or conclusion of what it means for someone to identify as atheist. She saw atheism as the rejection of an existing god, of her own personal spirituality, and the exact opposite of what she believed. She saw it as the flip side of the same belief coin that she applied to herself. When the hosts would try to explain her error, she would interrupt with defensive or attacking arguments. It’s entertainment.

Watching the show is a good lesson about human nature and communication. It is educational. However, for many believers, the puzzling question is indeed how anyone could not believe.

When callers identify as believers, they are usually invited to explain why they believe in a god, have some specific metaphysical world view, or follow a certain religious tradition or dogma. This is usually when there are silent pauses on the part of the caller. That’s understandable.

In day-to-day life, believers are seldom challenged to explain or show how they arrived at some theistic view, so they are ill-prepared to logically present salient facts regarding their belief (often a certainty to them) and how or when they came to such a conclusion as there must be a god. The internet is replete with arguments defending belief or faith. Those I have read are fallacious illogical tripe that eventually falls to pieces before melting into a just because it’s true and I have faith defensive stand. Or worse, because the bible says so.

I like to hear people explain why they believe in a god, a higher power, an invisible force or energy, or whatever it is that causes them to conclude that the high and mighty one exists. It reinforces my own conclusions. However, I do find most honest explanations refreshing for two reasons. One is that, while I’m comfortable with what I think, honesty and sincerity feel good. The other reason is that I get to listen to someone talk through what they believe. So, here are some of my favorite reasons why people do believe in god.

I don’t know why. I just do.
Ninety-five percent of all people believe, so I must be right.
God personally spoke to me or showed himself.
Things exist (universe, people, magic). The only possible explanation is a god.
I define god however I like, and that is what I believe in.
I prayed for something and it came to be, thus proving to me that there is a god (what else?)
It is beneficial within our society for me to say I believe and to act that way because it brings social privilege, economic gain, and personal protection.
It is what I was taught as a child. I have always been a believer.
Everyone will hate me if I do not say that I believe in god. I would be rejected and ostracized, as I have done to others. (That could also be a closeted atheist.)
I don’t want to spend eternity in Hell and I’m afraid of dying and other things.
It is just obvious that god exists. What else could it be?
I’m hedging my bets. If there is a god, I win. If not, I’ve lost nothing.

I think most people who believe in supreme beings and spirits make their claim for cultural reasons. Those reasons are based upon social and educational factors (indoctrination), not on intuition or logical analytical thinking. Therefore, many fundamentalist religious groups want to teach intelligent design as science and religion in public schools. Apparently, they agree with me about the indoctrination part. May I suggest additional required courses in argumentation and basic logic?

Bill

It’s Not Me

I used to say, if there is a god, it’s not me. I now joke about my mid-life crisis being long ago. That time has passed. There was no crisis. What do those two things have in common? Timing. In my forties and early fifties, I needed to change my behavior. During that process, my other mantra was do no harm. I was sure that I often did. I needed to stop.

I was caught up with being a poster-model for the middle aged, American adult male; the father, husband, friend, boss, or whatever people wanted me to be. It seemed right, until it wasn’t. I thought I was normal.

My focus was on my family, my job, and my role vis-à-vis what others wanted me to be. I was a responsible breadwinner and patriarch. I was also seriously dysfunctional because I was not true to myself and may have behaved god-like. So, if there was a crisis during my midlife years, it was with my world view and something of an existential WTF?

I can’t honestly go with crisis here because I thought I was fine. I got through it, and things worked out. That’s how it usually goes, but disasters happen more today.

For the record, this was serious shit. At one point, I recall having suicidal thoughts. I was unconcerned with what any god would think about that, but I placed a high value on what everyone else thought. Luckily, I managed. They were just my thoughts reflecting frustration and an internal transition. Good things, as it turned out.

My past adult years remind me that I’ve always been of two minds—sometimes dissonantly conflicted. I would not have recognized or admitted it to anyone except that Christopher Hitchens made the same confession. I am not like Hitch, but when I read in his last book that he was of two minds, I thought: Good god man. At least two! It was not so much the road less traveled for me as it was that they both made sense, and I was split going both ways. It didn’t work very well.

I couldn’t have untangled things by trying. During that time of my life I began to look deeply to religion from what I still consider my rational point of view. I became interested in what many call eastern religions (really philosophies) and ways of thinking (Zen, meditation, centering prayer, introspection, and the spiritual self) to deal with life and all the challenges I faced. I read books about such things and tried every suggestion I could manage. I still think it all helped me in some way.

This eventually led me back to my Roman Catholic religious roots and 12 years of immersed participation. I regret nothing of those years. I am thankful for all I learned and the opportunities I had. I gave it my best effort, and I held nothing back.

I knew before I left what would happen. It was a graceful exit in that I kept my commitments and moved to another state due to a job change.

I will always be angry about the obvious sexual and cover-up scandal in the Church. I think every Catholic person should feel shame and remorse. Every person of every religion, or of none, should feel anger because of it. But the perv priests and the complicit, lying bishops had nothing to do with me. I did not leave religion because it had failed or that men behaved criminally.

Following the move to another state and my new job, I became religiously inactive. I had time to ponder, read, and to ask myself questions. I was sure that I did not believe in any god and probably never had. I was more certain that all religions had been created by people. I began to realize that I had wanted to be like my ancestors and people I knew. Even my practicing a religion was me trying to be what I thought others (dead or alive) wanted me to be. I am grateful that what I did eventually led to my clear headed giving up.

There was still no existential crisis. I was finding comfort dealing with what I saw as reality and defending it with my own truth in discussions, much to the vexation of some others. I was aware that I was moving toward embracing atheism, but I would not have stated it like that. I would still say, if there is a god, it’s not me. I was still working on me; on my tolerance and patience; on my understanding and knowledge.

Today, I try not to take myself too seriously or to cause problems with the things I say or do, but there are those moments when I feel that I may be giving others a vote concerning me being myself. That was the root problem in the first place. I’m sensitive to letting anyone mold me at this age.

On the other hand, I don’t want to be a jerk. It’s not me, but it happens.

Bill

I Don’t Know

If my grandson were to ask me if I believe in God, what answer should I give? My choices would be: yes, no, maybe, or I plead the Fifth (I refuse to answer on the grounds that if I tell you, it might be life-changing for both of us). He has not asked, and I have not asked him what he thinks. If he would simply ask me if there is a god, I could say I don’t know.

If my father had ever asked me if I believed in God, I would have said yes. Today, that would be a lie, but it would still be my answer. One does not have deep metaphysical discussions with an Archie Bunker type, especially an angry one. I try to choose my battles carefully. I would probably tell my mother the truth, well…maybe, but I don’t know if I would. More on her another time.

I cannot recall the last time anyone asked me if I believed in God. Most people seem to assume I do, and I did used to act as though I did. I only recall one time when someone asked me if I was atheist. It took me two days to answer. While I knew what I was, I felt the need to ponder my response. I had to decide if I wanted to admit it to anyone (especially to me). Prior to that, I had only implied it to one workmate, but I disguised my comments as dismissals of religion. The elephant in the room (belief in a god) wasn’t questioned. I think he assumed I did not believe because of what he said about his father, a long time Mormon convert who never saw the light, vis-à-vis my statements.

When atheists lie about it, it’s euphemistically referred to as being in the closet. It is not telling the truth, so it’s lying. Millions of people all around the world do it every day for good reasons. Most of those reasons are more defensive than deceptive, but often are not without regret and guilt.

This is not about truth and lies. It’s about role playing for your own good and the good of others. I think it’s better to be out of the closet because the cognitive dissonance (guilt) associated with trying to live a dishonest life is troubling and wearing. It feels better, but there is almost always some price to pay for that kind of honesty.

In a scene from the movie The Big Sick (a good, dramatic but light romantic comedy from 2017) where the main male character, Kumail, (finally) confronts his Pakistani parent’s religion, culture, and traditions; his father, a Muslim, asks him “Do you not believe in Allah?” To which Kumail answers, I don’t know what I believe. I have not prayed in years. I don’t know what I believe. I find that answer courageous, and I see his father’s response as controlled and reasonable. (I could not find a clip of the scene.)

Movie character or not (it’s based upon a true-life story), my thought was, not prayed in years and confused beliefs, He’s atheist. Just because he will not say it, that doesn’t mean it’s not the case, right?

Saying I don’t know has to do with knowledge. Agnosticism does also. It’s simply saying I don’t know or I’m uncertain. In a way, it’s pleading the 5^th without saying what one believes. Either you believe something, or you don’t. Who knows? Nobody!

It’s also why I don’t know should be an acceptable answer. I like to say there are no gods, but I would not say I know there are no gods. Yet, the latter is what many people think I said. It is simply what I think or believe to be the case, based on the lack of evidence. Few would ask why I doubt any god’s existence. But they would challenge me to prove the negative.

There are times when I am asked questions, and I pause before I answer, often for so long that the questioner begins to lose patience with me. I always want to be sure I can give my best answer. Well, not exactly always.

Sometimes, if I have been sipping some of nature’s finer spirits, I will answer any question immediately, with confidence and authority. One could correctly say I am full of shit, but it’s alcohol. Sober, I am more likely to say I don’t know.

One other answer I like to use either sober (or perhaps while wondering what kind of THC that was) is: I don’t care. That is truly my favorite, although I find ways to dress it up at times.

Bill

A to Z Challenge: Zoro’s Zion Zealots (Z)

Zealots (religious zeal) – are uncompromising fanatics in pursuit of their religious or political ideals. They are diehard activists, maniacs, ultra-extreme nuts. Not moderates. Members of an ancient Jewish sect aiming at a world Jewish theocracy. Glad we don’t have any religious groups like that today, aren’t you?

Zion and Zionism – Zion is a specific hill in Jerusalem. It’s the place from which God rules the world. Zionism is the belief that God’s covenant with the Jews is linked to Palestine and Jerusalem and that said land is rightfully theirs (Jews). Why would that upset anyone? When I say that religion is responsible for many of the problems in the world, throughout history, and today, this is one example of why. There are no gods, so it’s all bull shit, and people die every day because of it.

Zoroastrianism – is the religion founded by Zoroaster about 3,500 years ago. It reformed ancient Persian polytheism into a one god belief system. However, Zoroastrian is considered dualistic since it has a good god and an evil god. This religion influenced Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, specifically in the concepts of heaven and hell, resurrection of the dead, final judgment, and many other concepts which the Abrahamic followers think they invented. Freddie Mercury’s family faith was the ancient religion of Zoroastrianism

And that concludes the 2019 challenge of the alphabet. Shalom.