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

Essay: My New Religion

I no longer have a religion, but if I did it would be Epicureanism. Heathenistic Hedonism would be a more accurate descriptive title and it sounds cool, but it might be considered a joke or some sort of oxymoronic widdlewaddle (is that a word?). “What religion are you?” “Oh, I’m a Heychie.” But some of the UUies thought of it first.

Omar Khayyam was a Muslim (so that’s a no), but given the right circumstances, perhaps I could be a philosophical Omarist. There is that sweet A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread, and Thou message that so many folks like. Who does not know that line from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam? The man’s poems are all about the here and now. According to his writing, he liked women, wine, and good food. Omar’s poems are even in Hitch’s atheist anthology, The Portable Atheist. I can hear The Byrds singing Pete Seeger’s Turn, Turn, Turn.

I dig the epicurean idea that there’s a time for all things; and the ‘eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we…’ conflation seems honest enough. It’s very Epicureanesque, if you ask me. Life can be a bitch, and once you’re mort, you’re dead. So, do it now.

After entering the world of retirement, I classified myself as a leisure aficionado and pleasure seeker. Well, don’t we all pursue things that give us happiness and pleasure? Apparently, some people interpret pleasure seeking as always immoral. Many of them believe (thanks to religion) that only misery and suffering bring eternal happiness (speaking of oxymorons). Right? Admittedly, leisure and things that please us get some of us into a lot of trouble. But, there’s always pizza, beer, and rock ‘n roll music.

I am Epicurean. It’s a philosophy or way of looking at life, perhaps a bit of a world view, but it’s not a religion. There is the health and wealth wing of Christianity, but that nonsense is a whole other series of blog posts.

While the origin of Epicurean thought has it as admitting that the gods exist in a material way, it also claims that the gods don’t care about humans and we should reciprocate (as in the definition of deist). So, fuck them. It’s also not exclusively about food and drink, as modernists might define it, although those things are indeed on our pleasure lists.

Epicureans are supposed to be disciples or students of the Greek philosopher Epicurus. In the more modern sense, we are people devoted to sensual enjoyment, to living the best life we can, while we can. Perhaps the exact opposite of religious orders such as Trappist monks or Trappistine nuns, or Capuchin Franciscan friars or nuns.

Synonyms for epicureans include hedonist, sensualist, pleasure-seeker, sybarite, voluptuary, bon vivant, and bon viveur. Related words are epicure, gourmet, gastronome, connoisseur, and gourmand (see the link with chow?). I like the idea of me being a generous, life-loving epicurean (back to Omar’s quote).

Of course, there are problems with virtually any excess. Health factors such as weight gain, allergies, addictions, and waste leading to environmental damage can be consequential. I read this morning that one can even exercise too much. But those problems are about excess, not pleasure or the relief of pain. Epicureans are not opposed to common sense and we applaud evidence-based solutions to the problems of life. Yay, science. Yay, research. Yay, logic and empirical evidence. Boo, religion and other woo-woo.

I’m in good company with my pleasure seeker philosophy. Other adherents to the teachings of Epicurus included the poet Horace, whose famous statement Carpe Diem (“Seize the Day”) illustrates the philosophy quite well, in my opinion.

So, the next time someone asks you if you believe in a god (and you don’t), simply respond with, “I’m a practical Epicurean. Some of us have claimed the gods are all real. We believe in life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness, the relief of pain, and enjoyment of this life, as we know it.”

Bill

Religious and Biblical Scholars: who are they and what do they do?

Have you ever read or heard this phrase? “Biblical scholars agree … (something, something).” The words may get couched with qualifiers like most or many, but virtually never are qualifications for such standing within any group of scholars, bona fides, or verifiable statistics provided. We are to accept something because someone said that most biblical scholars think so, when none of them has ever been asked. We are not told who they are, unless they are the ones doing the reporting.

That’s because there is no agreed-to standard or licensing agency for those referred to as bible scholars or experts. When you see that phrase, it is nonsense (BS is for biblical scholars). It is a fallacious appeal to authorities that may not exist. In fact, unless it is specific as to who makes the claim and is supported by factual evidence, it’s usually made up: a lie.

I find it odd that someone would have to resort to fiction to support a biblical claim.

Yet, there are such biblical experts. In fact, here is a post by one (because he says he is one) that talks about them and what they don’t do.

He says that biblical scholarship is an intellectual enterprise (okay, but usually tainted). He also claims that scholarship in the field of biblical studies is always linked with ideological, political, cultural, and religious commitments (i.e., biases). Most of these folks have a dog in the fight and his name is bias. He is fed opinion and religious dogma through indoctrination and education.

In the discussion, the scholar goes on to state that biblical scholars not only do not study the Bible, they are not theologians or historians, do not read the Bible in Hebrew and Greek, are not objective intellectuals, and do not read the Bible for the church.

Taken individually, or even as an identified group such as Vatican biblical scholars, or those employed by BYU or Ouachita Baptist University, especially if named and verified, opinions can be taken with stronger academic validity than when the broader term biblical scholars (implying all) is used.

A person who has done advanced study in a unique field is a considered a scholar, but the focus may be unclear. One may be awarded a master’s degree in advanced studies, none of which includes anything biblical. My master’s level concentrations included Sociology, Public Administration/Political Science/Government, Education/Educational Systems Management (my MA)/Administration, and a boatload of advanced military stuff. I am a scholar of none, but Monday morning quarterback to all.

A person with a master’s degree in theology (maybe online) may not have taken as much Bible as another person with the same degree, yet an undergraduate from a Bible college may have taken several semester hours of required Bible courses or Bible history.

A person with a doctorate in theology may have a degree focused upon a specialty that was not the Bible, and it probably was filtered by the ideas of a specific religion or denomination. Or, at least, he or she had a view through that lens. I assume that these folks are the biblical scholars.

Generally, they are not secular. They are not without extreme bias (my opinion and experience), and may not be the authoritative experts we assume they are. And remember, everybody has an opinion, even scholars, scientists, experts, and village idiots.

Finally, to determine the opinions of biblical scholars, someone must conduct a survey of each and ask them questions (assuming bona fide credentials). To be valid, the survey questions must be structured and framed by experts so that the answers and assumed results are consistent, valid, and reliable.

So, when you see reference to biblical scholars, be skeptical of an attempt to persuade you with BS fantasy and lies. But you knew that. Right?

Bill

Poetry: When You Go

When you go to church,
synagogue, or mosque, and
you do what you are
supposed to do, and you say or
sing same, maybe even dress
as expected, but you don’t
believe in the one key
uniting thing all the
others do, or you think
they do. They may be
just like you.

You go for reasons
only you know,
maybe you don’t understand
yourself, maybe you must go.
Maybe it’s grandma, who
you do believe in, maybe
it’s for money or glory, or
sex, security, or safety.
Maybe companionship or fellows.
Maybe you are searching
for something.

Some secrets
can never be told and die
with their keepers.

Bill

Did the Catholic Church Corrupt Me (or you)?

In defense of anyone who was raised in a Catholic denomination (there are approximately 24 different Rites or brands), or converted to one, I find it insulting that some ignoramus knuckleheads insist that such persons are corrupted or stupid. Frankly, that is bull shit. I will push back against such nonsense. Since the accusing parties are atheists, their stance is hypocritical, or the pot calling the kettle, etc. Holier than thou atheism? No wonder some of us prefer agnostic.

How I got here

When I was a practicing Catholic of the Roman Rite, I often came to the defense of atheists and atheism. Now an unapologetic atheist, I find myself taking a stance that opposes the position of some atheists (anti-theists, as I see them) who seem to think all Catholics should immediately abandon their faith because church history is unclean. Religion is about God, not history.

Anti-theist atheists, and many others, struggle to deal with the fact that I did not embrace atheism because I rejected religion or embraced evolutionary science. I did neither. Nor did I reject God, as many believers are wanting to think. I simply concluded that it is all man-made nonsense. Since I find no reason to believe a god of any kind exists, religion is pointless for me. But not so for everyone.

A Cultural or Excommunicated Catholic?

I am a baptized Catholic who is an apostate, heretic, and to a lesser degree, a schismatic. I have been automatically excommunicated. Until the excommunication is lifted, it’s forbidden for me to have any ministerial part in the celebration of a Mass or other official worship ceremony. But anyone may attend Mass. I may not celebrate or receive the sacraments or to exercise any formal Church functions. I wouldn’t. I am good with that and I understand it.

I am not a cultural catholic who identifies with Catholic traditions. However, if invited, I would attend church at special occasions like Christmas, Easter, baptisms, weddings, funerals, and such.

What it means to be, or to, corrupt

If someone or something is corrupt, they’re broken morally or in some other way. Corrupt people perform immoral or illegal acts for personal gain, without apology. I have been accused of this because I was raised Catholic. I experienced much more informal corrupting influences outside of the Church in the secular world.

The irony here is that this is the same form of name-calling error believers make regarding atheists. We are corrupt and without a moral compass. Right?

In my case, I was labeled corrupt (indoctrinated would have worked) by a nonbeliever because I spent so many years in religion, particularly as a child. The same person also diagnosed me with cognitive dissonance because I do not regret my Catholic religious roots. He does not understand why I don’t see things his way.

When you corrupt someone, you convince them to do something wrong or even illegal. If you talk your little brother into stealing cookies from the cookie jar, you’re corrupting him. Something corrupt is rotten, spoiled, or out of commission, like a file that makes your computer crash.

To imply, or to directly state, that I was corrupted by the Church is fucking nonsense. In no way was I ever encouraged to do anything wrong or illegal by a Catholic church official or layman. If anything, it seemed to me that everything I wanted to do was morally wrong, according to the Church. In many cases, they had a point.

Should any religion be rejected?

I don’t know. That’s a personal decision. There certainly are a lot of things that should change in virtually every religion and within the minds of believers as well as skeptics. I have concluded that it is highly probable that no god exists, so I do reject all religion since the reason for it does not exist. Religions have done much harm, but also some good. It’s the people that count, not the dogma.

I struggle more with atheists behaving like ass holes, since atheist is how I currently identify. The same person accused me of guilt by association. I worry more about the association issue regarding my skepticism than anything in my past religious affiliations.

In Conclusion

I do not expect the Catholic Church or its people to take all their marbles and report to Saint Peter anytime soon. I don’t expect atheists or any other group to suddenly be enlightened or to behave better. I don’t anticipate any of us will stop criticizing religion. I don’t expect a perfect world.

I do hope that most of us can follow the ancient tradition of treating each other respectfully. I also expect that when I see an innocent group being wrongfully maligned, I will take up the golden rule banner. If that fails, I don’t know what I might do.

Bill

It’s All About How We Feel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill

Allegory: The Man in the Room (2.0)

Note: I first published this allegory a year ago on the Our Literary Journey blog site (before I started this one). Based upon the comments at the time, it was well received. Some of you will remember it. For those who haven’t read it, here it is with some edits and corrections.

The Man in the Room (2.0)

I don’t recall exactly when I learned a man was in the room. I’m sure someone told me.

For years, I watched as other people behaved as if they knew he was there. This was serious business. People (called martyrs) died because of this man. As a child, I never doubted what I was told about the man in the room. I not only believed he was there, I also knew a lot about him. He was old with a long gray beard, but handsome. He was quite distinguished and grandfatherly.

The man in the room was more important than anyone, even more than the President or the Pope. The President, and especially the Pope, also believed there was a man in the room. The Pope even had secrets that the man had entrusted to him. The man in the room was even more important than I was, or my parents, or any king.

Everything was about this man.

People wanted me to devote my life to the man in the room. We gave up things and made sacrifices either for him or to him. We did good things, like give money and stuff to the poor and needy because the man in the room wanted us to. The more we showed that we cared about the man, the better we were treated by our teachers, preachers, and parents.

The man in the room made the rules for everybody. He picked special adults and told them what the rules were for all of us. Everyone I knew agreed that there was a man in the room, and he was in charge forever. He was super powerful. He could do anything. He was in total control of everything. He could be invisible and even bring dead people to life.

He had always existed and always would.

Eventually, I learned that the man in the room made everything; even me, and you, and the Pope. I learned that he made me for a reason. I was to love and serve him and to do his will outside of the room. Everyone was. Even people who didn’t know it were supposed to serve him. That was my first world view, my purpose for being, but I didn’t fully realize it.

People would talk to the man in the room. Sometimes, they would ask for something. I was taught how to talk to him. I did this for a long time, but the man never talked back to me. Apparently, he only talked to certain people using his thoughts. That made sense. I sometimes asked the man for things. I was told he was always watching me, so I assumed that was why he never gave me anything I asked for.

I knew people went into the room to see the man. One day, I decided to follow some people, hoping to see him. When I opened the door and stepped in, I saw no one, not even the people I had followed. It was an empty room and there was no man or any person to be seen. I wondered why I had seen no one else and why he apparently left the room when I entered. I had been assured that he always remained in the room.

I decided to find out why I had seen no one in the room, especially not the man I was searching for. Since everyone was so positive about the man, I was sure that I had made some mistake.

After leaving the room by the only door, I decided to ask my mother why I had not seen the man. Mom got nervous and seemed upset. She told me to ask my father. I did. That was a mistake. Dad became angry and sent me to my room. He told me that next time he might beat some sense into me.

I decided to try a more neutral person.

I asked one of my teachers who I could trust if there was a reason that I couldn’t see the man. I could see the irritation in her expression, but she kindly explained to me that if I could not see the man, it meant that I did not believe strongly enough. I needed to have more faith. If I believed strongly enough, I would see the man.

As I asked others and I talked with friends, I realized that some people did not see the man either. A few of them never went into the room, or they denied any room existed. But they never told me that there was not a man to be seen. Most others told me that they did see the man. I was told that those of us who did not see the man were at fault. The issue was our lack of faith. And my lack of faith was evidenced by the fact that I asked too many questions and talked about it too much.

I thought the problem was clearly with me. I could see the room, but never saw the man. Others did. I needed more faith. I simply had to try harder.

If others could see him, why not me?

Years passed. I lived my life and almost forgot about the man. However, the man in the room issue never went completely away. People began to assume I could see the man, just as they claimed. I stopped talking about him as though I could not see him. In a way, I lied by pretending.

For a while, I returned to the room often. I decided to ask a man in the room expert if there was reason for my failure and if there was anything I could do. Again, the blindness was my doing. If I would believe more, I would see him. That still made sense to me.

I wondered how to have more faith.

Since I was certain that there was a man in the room, that it was my lack of faith that prevented me from seeing him, I decided to take even more drastic action.

I became a man in the room fanatic. I joined organizations. I took all the classes and attended all the learning groups I could find. My expertise grew and qualified me to teach classes to both children and adults regarding the man in the room and the things they should do to be better followers. Eventually, I became a man in the room leader in a large and important relevant group.

I held firmly to the belief that there was a man in that room. Finally, one day I saw the room again. No one could have done more than I to be a true-blue follower, believer, and expert. I had not seen the room in years, but then one day there it was.

That was my moment, my time, my life-long goal of seeing the man was to be that day.

I proudly opened the door and triumphantly marched into the room, and there sitting in the chair in the corner was me as a child.

The child looked up and said, “I have been sitting here your entire life. I wanted nothing more than to meet the man in the room. For over 50 years, I have waited and searched, while you have worked and prayed and believed. But, look around. There is no man in this room and there never has been. I have gone to other rooms with the same discovery.”

I felt broken and deceived. I had wasted so much of my life hoping to see a man who never existed. Again, I walked out through the only door. When I looked back, the room was gone. I thought, and I wondered, and read and studied all the possibilities. I felt myself changing. I began to say negative things to people regarding what may be in the room.

I had lived most of my life with almost constant thought about the man in the room. Over many months I slowly became a person who openly expressed doubts.

Then one day a friend asked if I still believed that there was a man in the room.

I looked at my friend and said, “For more years than you have been on the earth I have searched for the man in the room. I did more than enough. I have decided that I was deceived. After a lifetime of trying to find a man, it is my conclusion that he does not exist and never has. The man is a myth and has always been.” I was relieved to know that I had finally found a truth that escapes so many.

One day, someone else asked, “What is the point of you saying that there is no man in the room?”

I responded, “There is no room, only one told in stories. There is no man, invisible or otherwise. Too much life is wasted over nothing. Either there is man, or there isn’t. Faith is irrelevant. Belief does not make it so any more than failure to believe makes it not so. It is reality based upon evidence.”

Another man overheard that comment. He approached me and said that I may not make such a statement if I have no proof that there is no man in the room. He said that I was asserting a fact that I could not prove. He wanted me to say that I only believed or assumed that there is no man in the room.

I objected by claiming that I was asked a question (what is the point?) to which I provided my best answer. I postulated nothing. My answer to the question is not an affirmation that there is a man, but an admission that there is no evidence that there ever was a man in the room. Since he was not in the room when I looked, that was all the proof I needed. The fact that others believe there is a man in the room because someone told them has no bearing on reality. It only supports what they already believe.

My conclusion is different than their belief. No one ever told me that there was not a man, only that there was. When I tried to find the man, or to ask why I could not see him, no one said he was not there. They only told me that my inability to find him was my fault.

I no longer believe what people told me. But since I did everything I could, and I did what they told me I must do, and I still did not find any evidence of the man, I concluded he does not exist.

One of the things that helped me with my conclusion is the Hans Christian Andersen story, The Emperor’s New Clothes, and the resulting idiom regarding pluralistic ignorance. I should have known from the beginning that there was no man to see because I could not see him. That should have ended it. But I did not want to accept that what people were telling me were the same lies they had been told.

Almost everyone I knew insisted that I was wrong. When I realized that the Emperor was naked, I knew why I wanted there to be a man in the room. I wanted there to be a man, and I wanted him to be as I was told he was. I wanted to be like most people. I’m not.

Now, I know the truth. I need no proof of what does not exist.

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.

Miraculous Miracles

For there to be a miracle, there must be some sort of supernatural entity. Call it a god. The event happens when the supernatural entity transgresses a law of nature in a good way. Some may credit the paranormal or the occult with the event, but such happenings are usually referred to as magick, not miracles.

For miracles think of things like rising from the dead, walking on water, or curing leprosy or cancer with a short cheer two thousand years ago. No tricks or sleight of hand may be involved. It must be real, and someone needs to see it. Statues dripping water should not be located just below toilets or the urinal in the mens’ loo.

Dictionaries have added definitions of miracles that are not miraculous. Natural events or accomplishments with highly improbable positive outcomes are included as miracles, even though they are not. For example, “It’s a miracle he passed the test. Her recovery was a miracle.” And some might even invoke divine agency by saying it was miraculous instead of improbable or extraordinary.

Neither the Miracle on the Hudson (plane landing) or the Miracle on Ice (Olympic ice hockey game) are considered supernatural miracles, but amazing events. (But not really all that unusual. Sully was an excellent pilot and the USA ice hockey team was also great). And then there is the Hail Mary pass in football. Mary is a fan of which team?

When my son (Steven, if you’re keeping track) doubted the existence of any gods, he said he wanted a miracle, or a sign, in order to accept a deity. I grabbed a loaf of bread and set it in front of him and I claimed, “This is a miracle.” He said, “that’s not what I meant.”

While bread is one of nature’s awesome wonders in that a seed can be made to grow and be transformed into food, it is not a miracle in the sense that it is natural and routine and there is no evidence of supernatural interference.

Now, there was that one deal with Jesus and the cursing of the poor fig tree (Matthew 21:18–22) that some call a miracle, but that sounds like black magick woo-woo to me.

In the Abrahamic religions miracles play a vital role in each belief system. In Christianity, they’re essential. For Jesus to prove his divinity, he allegedly performed miracles. Muslims rely on miracles too, beginning with the writing of the Koran.

Jews may manage with fewer, but they have the parting of the Red Sea, the Plagues of Egypt, and some raising of the dead and others. Undoubtedly, a modern Jewish believer will be far less prone to attribute extraordinary events to a supernatural intervention, but his or her belief in God’s power will not allow them to deny the very possibility of miracles occurring.

A Hasidic Jewish saying has it that a Hasid (a kind of Jew) who believes that all the miracles said to have been performed by the Hasidic masters actually happened is a fool, but anyone who believes that they could not have happened is an unbeliever. The same can be said of miracles in general.

Most religions have some form of tie with supernatural miracles. The rest of us use the term in the second sense, which simply means unusual, but often it is not even that. A close family member of mine was recently extremely ill. She did what the doctor said and added other things like proper rest, and eating healthy (including ensuring intake of supplements and electrolytes). On her next visit to the doctor, he declared her recovery miraculous. Her recovery had indeed been much faster than anticipated. While many used the miracle term, no one claimed supernatural intervention.

The Catholic Church’s process for determining one’s sainthood ordinarily requires that at least two supernatural miracles must have been performed through the intercession of the dead but blessed person who is not yet sainted. The idea is that if they are indeed in Heaven (where a saint must be), it is assumed they would intercede with god as requested by prayer. My point is that two miracles are required. One is insufficient. (God, just to be sure, would you do that one more time?) However, this requirement is on and off and seems to be completely waived off at times.

This is not a complex issue for me because I don’t believe in god or spiritual stuff. But for believers, it is very complex. David Hume’s “Of Miracles” section of his mid-18^th Century book, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, is considered a classic about miracles and belief.

Preparing to write this, I read Miracles by C. S. Lewis. In the introduction of the book Lewis claims that one must have the right philosophy. In other words, for one to believe in miracles, one must first believe in miracles. Later in the book he criticized circular logic. Don’t waste your time (believer or not). Most of the alleged apologist writings of C. S. Lewis were intended for Christians. Perhaps most others are as well. In Miracles, Lewis admits as much. But, you do sell more spiritual books when you preach to the choir.

Thomas Paine, one of the Founding Fathers of the American Revolution, wrote “All the tales of miracles, with which the Old and New Testament are filled, are fit only for impostors to preach and fools to believe.” That’s what I think too.

If everything is a miracle, is anything?

Dear Believer (in god),

I really, really, really do not believe any god or gods exist or ever have; not yours, his, hers, or theirs. I’m not just saying that for impudence. Likewise, I can’t accept the existence of alternate spiritual beings like angels or devils, nor do I worship or fear them.

The list grows with the addition of spiritual places such as heaven (and saints), hell (and the damned), purgatory (temporary human soul suffering after death), or limbo (fallen in favor among many believers), which was once the permanent stopping place for the innocent unclean or unbaptized.

Consequently, with no gods out there, I further contend that all religions are pointless (at best). With a nod to Hitch, many are poison.

Believing god exists does not make it so except in your mind. Likewise, disbelief does not make god nonexistent. Your hypothesis or god-theory is god(s), supernatural beings, and spirits exist. My position is that your hypothesis is untestable and unverifiable. Your proposal is based upon beliefs you hold that are rooted in what you want to be rather than what is. Call it faith if you like, it really is what you want. You may even think it must be true.

I contend that believing in god, angels, spirits, demons, devils, and life after death does not make you a better person than anyone else (me). But how you behave does. How we treat each other is the pinnacle of human morality. It is not our fear of the supernatural.

I refer to myself as a convinced atheist, like Hitchens, and a skeptic willing to admit not knowing many things, such as the origin of the universe. I see you as a believing theist who makes no such admission of ignorance. Otherwise, you’d be agnostic and make no belief claims.

If I could disprove a god’s existence, this would be easy. If you could prove the existence of your god, that would also be too easy. Nothin’s easy (I have the tee shirt to prove it).

The argument about the actual existence of god has been amusing us for a long time. I don’t know how long. But the same arguments are being repeated many times by your fellow believers trying to make the same illogical and untestable points in a different way. The purpose seeming to have been to create an epiphany of enlightenment rising into my spiritual consciousness. The effect on me has been the opposite of that goal.

While I think I’m right and that all gods are inventions of human minds and imaginations, I’m fond of saying there are no gods. That statement is my opinion, which I am unable to prove. Oddly, many people challenge me to prove my opinion while knowing I can’t.

Don’t you find it odd (hypocritical) that I must prove my opinion and you need not?

If I do not believe in any god, and you do, we disagree. I wish we could leave it at that. But no. There is that Mark 16:15 issue, if you claim to be Christian, especially of the evangelical variety.

You must promulgate (or preach) your side and convince me and others who may have religious beliefs unlike yours. To do this, without evidence you promote that I am evil because of what I think and do not believe. If I dare to push back, you claim victim status because I object to you forcing your religious beliefs on me. Examples are such things as insisting on prayer in school, forbidding the teaching of Evolution, or worse, demanding the teaching of Creationism as science in schools. Creationism is religion. It is not science.

You use the same technique as all abusers always have. You claim god is love, but will send me to hell for eternity, simply because I doubt his/her/their existence. Belief is rewarded in heaven; the rest go to hell. Logic be damned.

I’ve looked. I’ve searched. I’ve tried and studied and thought and thought and talked and listened. For more years than you have been alive I have doubted myself. I’ve endeavored to find truth and evidence for your claims. Have you done half as much to see it my way?

Please at least accept these two things. One, I do not believe in any god. Two, that does not automatically default me to be a bad person without morals or conscience.

Bill