One Miracle at a Time

When one does not believe in any god or similar form of spiritual otherness, it follows that one might struggle with miracles (walking on water, curing lepers, making zombies). It’s the word, not the wonderment. By one definition, a miracle is an “extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs.” A synonym for manifest is obvious. That means it is easy to see some god or divine intelligence did it.

On the secular side, an alternate definition is “an extremely outstanding or unusual event, thing, or accomplishment.” That is how my wife uses it. That works for me. Synonyms for miracles include something that is amazing, a marvel, phenomenon, splendor, or wonder.

Unfortunately, too many people think atheists do no appreciate amazing things because we don’t think there is a god to do it. They think that without attribution to a deity or cosmic intelligence, we are unable to appreciate amazingly splendid marvels and awesome wonders. That is false conjecture. I know it is not true because I am an atheist. I appreciate many natural and real things, in my opinion, often more than spiritual people do. I find the god can do anything argument childishly boring.

When atheists claim such appreciation, many people insult us by saying we are not true atheists. Like they would know. Or they may confuse atheism with nihilism. That’s easy to do and quite common. I can’t fix it. But Google can. However, I’m not going there now.

Interestingly, some atheists claim an even higher awareness because without something like a god to attribute things to, we see wonders and splendors as even greater natural events. That includes our own human ability to know (science) and to appreciate intangible things like art and music, or love and friendship. Be it the universe or a single human cell, amazing things are exactly that.

While I attribute neither the Universe (or Cosmos) nor humanity’s existence to the sudden whim of any intelligence or some god, I am fascinated by earthly nature, the heavens, and biology. In the secular sense, it’s miraculous. Evolution is incredible and ruthless, but so amazing.

Science, not religion, must be given center stage in any study or discussion of either life or the cosmos. In fact, science itself provides the knowledge that makes what little we know and understand more appreciative of awesomeness. With deference to Poe, thank you Science.

We can speculate about life existing on some planet other than on Earth. But we don’t know. Regarding all things, we can develop hypotheses and theories about what happened and when. But we seldom know. Yet, there is one huge miracle I have in my mind that flies above all others. The odds against it are enormous.

It’s what Bill Bryson calls the “supremely agreeable condition known as life.” We are, as he goes on to claim, “in the most literal sense cosmic.” I agree with him. Not only is all life tied together, but it also seems the entire Universe is one big (bang) bag of marvels.

But honestly, I once believed or accepted the idea that one god created it all. The fact that I can no longer attribute things to theological answers makes none of it less amazing. If my view is different now, things are even more awesome for me. I now pay much more attention to it all.

That life happened beats tremendous odds. For me, the very fact that no creator or intelligence did it (nod to those who believe otherwise) makes it more amazing, not less.

Bill

I Didn’t Know

Twenty-five years ago, I began to find comfort in admitting I was wrong when I realized or thought I was. Who knew? Before that, being right was important. Then, poof—it wasn’t.

To that 12-step teaching (tenth step, admitting wrong) I would add fewer apologies, or saying “I’m sorry” when I was harmlessly wrong. Out of habit, I still say it when I do no harm. But I try not to. I’ve decided apologizing too much might reduce the sincerity of my true contrition when something was mea culpa.

I’ve had ideas. We all do. Most of mine have been based on nothing more than my personal preference or life experiences. When what I thought I knew turned out to be wrong, admitting that simply ended things. Life continued peacefully.

This morning, on his Patheos.com blog, I read James H. Haught’s piece, “Skepticism is All About Honesty” (July 21, 2021, FFRF). Therein, he relates a eureka moment when someone told him the “answer” is “I don’t know.” I recall speakers and teachers admitting temporary ignorance but promising to return after some research. Many did. It is a good way to go.

Haught goes on to write, “To me, the bottom line is honesty. A person with integrity doesn’t claim to know supernatural things that he or she cannot know.” I agree, but my reasons are little more personal and emotional.

Of course, honesty is important. Claiming to possess knowledge one cannot possibly have is not only dishonest, everyone knows of the dishonesty, except for the delusional (as so many are). But when I realized that I could say I don’t know to any question, I felt a sense of relief that is still difficult for me to describe.

I don’t know how the universe came to be, if our solar system was a coincidence, or if there is life in any form after death. I don’t know of life in other galaxies. I have no idea if nature has consciousness or what that might look like. I have no clue about why so many humans are either evil or good. I don’t know if human energy is healing. I do not need to know any of that.

When someone tells me, “There must be something,” such as a god or consciousness, I ask, “why must there be?” There certainly might be, could be, or we may like there to be. Something may feel good or be comforting about ideas. I get that. Indeed, there may be a cause or a reason for things that happen. But I’m not feeling the must, as in compelled by fate or natural law, or any other definition of must.

I’m unopposed to differing hypotheses or opinions, but that is what most proposed answers are, something less than a theory. If there is scientific evidence, proof, or if a concrete theory is developed and tested, that would be wonderful. Until then, I don’t know. If I find out, I’ll get back with you. I assume you will do likewise.

I cannot say I am sorry that I do not believe what others do, or that I think something true they may deny. If I am wrong and someone convinces me of that, fine. It happens. If I learn something I did not know, even better. But if no skin was removed from any part of anyone’s anatomy (or wallet), I am unlikely to apologize for being wrong. I was wrong and I am not sorry.

Xin loi (xin lỗi, pronounced zin-loy) is a polite Vietnamese phrase which literally means excuse me or pardon me. I like it. However, during the Viet Nam War, American soldiers used the phrase sardonically to mean something like sorry about that (or worse). When I’m mistaken, I’d like to say excuse me or pardon me. But, since xin loi was hijacked, I will settle for saying excusez moi, perhaps with a wee touch of snarkastic arrogance, for which I am so sorry.

Bill

Poem: Holy Knickknacks, Batman

Also posted on pluviolover.com.

Got my Indian Buddha statue
the next day
after some Catholic Answers lecture guy
told us it was a mortal sin to have one.
First Commandment (Catholic version), no less.

My graven image now sits with my Dragon Chalice,
lion statue, and cowboy with horse bronze art,
family photos, among other things.
He’s been lotus sitting around my house,
mostly in my room, for more than 20 years.
The best years of my life
have been with Siddhartha.

My family has concurred many demons.
I’ve beaten cancer (for now), completed 15 marathons,
written hundreds of poems, cheated death
and heart disease (also temporarily),
lost twenty pounds (several times),
and today I mark 75 years since I squeezed
through Mom’s birth canal. Sorry, Mom.

My mother claimed I was a contrarian.
Dad said I was only half-Irish and my sibs
considered me a spoiled brat (that’s still true).
The (younger then I) lecturer from the diocesan chancery
died two years afterwards.
Wrong statue or just superstition, I guess.

Bill

Nones and Don’ts

I read a post on Patheos.com regarding the “collapse” of Christianity in the USA. The statistics and argument are based on opinion research. It wouldn’t surprise me if more people are jumping from or ignoring the Christian bandwagon. Evangelical PR has been abysmal. Now the US Catholic Bishops are making fools of themselves (again) over Biden taking communion.

According to the research and claims of the piece, millennials are largely responsible for the significant downturn in churchgoers and New Testament thumpers. I don’t know if it plays into this, but separation of church and state is always an issue and calls for such freedom may also be growing. It’s funny how we can say that separate church and state trope and we hear, “Freedom of Religion.” (Congress shall make no laws…, etc. Why do they only see half of that?)

When I came out with my own atheism, I learned that for some statistical purposes, I was and am a none. When asked which religion I am/practice/prefer/want to be part of, I have marked “none,” when that option was available.

When hospital staff called me a few years ago to ask if I wanted to change none, I told the lady to “keep those people away from me.” I may have I hurt her feelings, but she asked. Neither atheism nor agnosticism are religions. Rightfully, they are not usually on the religious preference forms. But guess what?

Now I can change that. I discovered the following options are now listed by my hospital under the personal information category of religion: “Agnostic, Atheist, Declined, None, Other, and Unknown.” That last one is a head scratcher. Do they not know?

If I change my answer to Atheist, it will be listed that under “religion” on my personal information. It is not a religion. I’m staying with none for now. But I’m thinking about changing it.

I saw few new religious movements (NRMs) or new age religious beliefs listed. I also read that many main line Christians hold such new age beliefs. Interesting. That is probably woo-woo in the eyes of organized religion leadership, but many folks go for it.

The article on the decline of practicing US Christians and the survey introduced me to a new category: the Don’ts. These are people who don’t know, don’t care, or don’t believe god exists. They just don’t. I don’t.

I now have a new statistical category to join (hear my sarcastic laugh). I recognize two of the subcategories (don’t know and don’t believe), but I chuckled at the don’t care group. I’ve never considered them. I might be a Don’t in all three subcategories. Sort of like that old joke about nuns (as in the religious orders), “Ain’t had none, don’t want none, ain’t gunna get none” (or something like that).

I have a suggestion for a new category: the whatever’s. Just for teenagers.

Bill

Essay: I’m Okay with That

Hello Real World Person,

I accept that to some degree there will always be different beliefs. I often discuss healthy eating, exercise, and medical science with my health care providers. Some might say we even argue. Neither religion nor science are going away in my lifetime. And totally disappear? I can’t imagine that.

And my dribble

I do not read or comment on religious media: not on religious blogs or any form of religious social media. I read none of that proselytization. But when I prepare to post my broodings on this blog, I may occasionally read some bible pages (John 3:16 for this one), or maybe some Catholic Catechism stuff. But rarely.

Most religious stuff is written for the already religious audience, not for skeptics, and certainly not for me. Occasionally, a believer or religious person will leave a comment on my blog to remind me how badly my beliefs, opinions, and atheist conclusions will go for me after I die. Sometimes they like to throw ad hominem at my intelligence. Of course, they do. The best I can do is say that either one or more gods exist, or he/she/they do not. What anyone believes does not change that. It’s either yes or no. Sorry, agnostics.

For the love of God, Billy!

Apparently, god’s love and forgiveness only apply to the sins of believers (John 3:16). It’s not for those of us incapable of believing that any god exists. The biblical condition is “whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” I’m okay without the eternal life part. Such a biblical/New Testament threat is unlikely to compel me to believe. The added threat of eternal life in hell sounds awfully unloving and unforgiving. And I’m supposed to respect their religion? Not a chance.

I think I thought I saw you pray.

I really (honestly, for certain, doubtless) do not believe any god or spiritual beings of any kind exist. Period. I think ALL religions are nonsense. Prayer is silly, even if there is a god. That’s the best (nicest) thing I can say about most religions. Religion is spiritually pointless, but practically useful.

Yet, it seems to me, oddly, that religious people believe god exists, and consequently their belief (and their own existence) makes god’s exitance factual. Many borderline religious people seem to believe “something” god-like exists because they want it to be so. It feels better for them to think that something exists. Okay by me, but it is still inventing a god.

My point? I can tolerate woo-woo. I’ve certainly done woo-woo, studied it, and practiced it. But I now believe none of it. I never will. I can’t, and I don’t want to. Consequently, John 3:16 does not apply to me. I’m okay with that.

Skeptically yours,

Bill

PS: Tony on prayers: I write and read poetry—too much, maybe. I’m a fan of the late Tony Hoagland and his poems. Tony died in October of 2018. In the December 2018, issue of The Sun two of his poems were published. I particularly liked the one titled, “On Why I Must Decline to Receive the Prayers You Say You are Constantly Sending.” Click on the title to read it. And, if you want, read “In the Beautiful Rain,” which is also good.

End of the Line?

I realize that being an atheist means disbelief in any god and (arguably) nothing more. I agree. However, just as with believing in some god or other relates to religious practices, not believing likewise calls for answers to questions regarding that non-belief, at least to oneself if to no one else.

This is especially true if a change such as deconversion was involved. Answers may take any form from I don’t know to hypothetical suppositions, or even well-supported theories. It can get murky, but that seems to excite those who think they see the light.

For example, I don’t know what happens after someone dies. Neither do you. For now, barring evidence to the contrary, I assume death means you’re gone. Body, mind, and spirit: kaput. All other possibilities and claims are unsupported hypotheses of approximately equal value. The continuation of the human spirit might be so, but there is no evidence for that.

While not all believers resort to threats of punishment to be carried out after people stop living, such as Purgatory or Hell, a great many do. I realize that many believers manage to focus on life, “right here, right now.” I say that and believe it. I can meet them there.

Yet, just as with the existence of any god, afterlife of any kind, spiritual as with a “soul,” in some unknown form of consciousness, or even physically as in reincarnation, not one of the seven billion or so people alive today can be certain of anything concerning death other than it is not quite the same life as it was. Even the concepts of human resurrection with the second coming, or rapture do not promise a redo. Die and you’re done—not alone. Just finished with living.

My mother was a lifelong Roman Catholic. I recall her, while lucid but dying, lying on her death bed, after I asked if she wanted me to fetch a (Catholic) priest, saying to me, “When you’re dead, you’re dead.” She died without receiving last rights. Yikes, Mom! Why didn’t you tell me?

Afterlife is crucial to all Christianity. The biggest Holy Day in any Christian’s liturgical year should be Easter: The Resurrection of Christ. Life after death (not Christmas).

As the sign in my neighbor’s yard says, “He is risen.” The largest single religion on Earth, and the evidence for its rationale has been an unnecessary nothing for two-thousand years. The neighbor’s sign is not very convincing. But the beat goes on. Salvation is unnecessary if you cease to exist. Unless…

Bill

Shorty: Skeptical Evangelicals

That headline got me to reading about that huge homogeneous group of American citizens and why they had little faith in science.

The definition of oxymoron is “a combination of contradictory or incongruous words.” Okay. Maybe the idea that the deeply religious can be skeptical of things other than their god is not so incongruous. But in a way, this is a clear lack of faith: in science, in government, and in this case, big pharma (and who likes them?).

It sounds to me like these thumpers want Jesus to ensure they win the lottery without buying a ticket (gambling’s a sin, ya know).

They want god to protect them from the COVID-19 virus and variants without taking the shot. While there are certainly anti-vaxxers who are Christian of one brand or another, nothing in Christianity specifically forbids taking injections to use the human body’s natural defenses to prevent the spread of disease. While some may interpret it that way, or shoehorn in some weird, twisted interpretation, the shots are working and saving lives. THANK YOU, JESUS!

I might have bought the “let’s wait and see if it kills everyone else first” strategy for a while. But we have passed all that. All they are doing is giving atheists like me ammo to gun down religion as evil and dangerous.

I’ve been criticized before for my bizarre thinking about masks and medicine, about religion and gods, about baseball and apple pie. But here is what I think: if you don’t get the shot, you either have a good reason, or you are a dumb shit who cares little about human life. If you also refuse to wear a mask, you either have an excellent reason, or you’re an asshole who…. I can’t say it.

None of my bitching will convince anyone to do right. But it feels good to me.

Bill

Essay: Is it just me?

I thought I had been open about my skepticism and conclusions regarding the unlikely existence of any gods. I openly declared my atheism not many years ago. It felt great and I was happy to be freely expressing my honest opinion, one I’d held for years prior to admitting, “Yes. I am an atheist.” My doubts became my story.

After I let people with access to my Facebook posts know I did not believe in god, I noticed that some things changed. I also discovered that while some folks decided not to continue initiating communication with me, they would respond. Okay, that’s fine. I expected believers to take a step back or just end any relationship we had. As far as I can tell, no one chose the latter. The limited reaction was less than expected.

Then, last week I announced my pending hospital incarceration following a significant medical procedure. I’m home now and fine. I also knew their thoughts, prayers, and healing energy would be offered. Also, fine. One person said she would pray and didn’t care what I thought of it. I clicked like for her comment and I said, thank you. Not a problem. I am an atheist, not an ass hole.

One man said he would be thinking about me, but that he was “not much of a church goer” (i.e., excuse me if I do not offer to pray for you), but he wished me good luck. As I typed my response, I noticed that I was reluctant to tell him that “this atheist” appreciated his kind words, concern, and would rather he not pray for me. I realized my reluctance to tell him I am atheist. Why is that? It’s not a secret. I thought I wanted people to know.

I am not in any closet. Yet, I stopped to consider the consequences of telling the truth. Others would see it. Others would judge.

Last week “someone” posted here that I was a fool for not believing in god, that I would meet god face-to-face, but it would then be too late. We all know what he or she (“someone” is how WP listed the name) was implying by too late.

Some people are fond of informing me that I shall burn for an eternity in Hell because I choose not to believe what I seem unable to believe. I need to keep in mind that the antipathy of many believers toward atheists (and vice-versa) is seeded with fear. But either I am out, open, and honest, or I am not.

It’s not only me, is it?

Bill

A Gentleman Is

If you don’t want to know…

A quip often attributed to Oscar Wilde is, “A gentleman is one who never hurts anyone’s feelings unintentionally.” Similar observations and opinions of male gentlemanly behavior abound. But it’s unlikely that Wilde was the origin of the phrase. I doubt if anyone, lady, or gentleman, is immune from doing unintended emotional harm with poorly chosen words.

I am not talking about political correctness (PC). That’s where I must ask a person’s racial or sexual background and preferences, and how he or she personally wishes me to speak to avoid offense. I prefer euphemism to PC because it covers more language. A euphemism is a word or phrase substituted for another considered to be a more agreeable or inoffensive expression for one that may offend or suggest something unpleasant. Such as, he passed on instead of died, darn for damn, shite for shit, and more.

I have been (politically) corrected for using terms such as dark-skinned, women and children, oriental, he, big, mick, short, holy roller, and a long list of others.

Disliked verses Offended

There is a difference between being offended by something and not liking it. While I dislike what offends me. I’m not offended by everything I dislike. For example, I know that some people assume that I will spend eternity suffering in Hell simply because I extricated myself from my religion and embraced my atheistic conclusions regarding gods. That is what their religious teaching tells them to think and feel about someone like me.

I am not offended simply because someone thinks that, but I don’t like it. However, religion is known to do a lot of mental and physical damage, and families are torn apart by it. I am offended that religious people would force their beliefs on me or on other believers who do not share their concept of god, holiness, or history.

On the other hand, if one of them says that I deserve to burn in Hell, or that they hope I do, I could take mild offense. When I am stereotyped by people who know nothing of me, or have been told lies about me, I take some offense. When people do things that would harm me mentally or physically, I feel more offended (most often happens while driving).

What Did I say?

Things I’ve done or said that offended others include swearing. I’ve rocked some emotional boats when I’ve made suggestions to improve virtually anything, or when I’ve told people their music was too loud, but never when I requested it louder.

I have also upset some people by saying I see no reason to apologize for being wrong, provided that no harm was caused by my error to another person. I regret being wrong (I wish I was always right), but I will not ask for pardon unless I’ve harmed someone.

I agree that thoughtful sensitivity on my part is good regarding race, physical or mental condition, sex or sexual preference. I willingly tolerate virtually any harmless religion. When the Mormon lads called me to the door to preach at me, were they offended when I told them I was a Roman Catholic and that I could never believe what they did? They didn’t seem to be, I’m sure they heard worse.

Must We Agree?

Enter other beliefs in deities (gods) and associated religions, economic and social thoughts (communism, capitalism, gay rights), politics, school preferences, sporting events, and love triangles. Ok, maybe not the last one.

If I say I do not believe any god exists, many people who believe feel offended. While my opinion may imply that they are wasting their time, spreading lies, and misleading children; it’s unavoidable because of what the underlying gist of my belief says about theirs. It’s a built-in conflict. I’m not sure if offense is taken because I said it out loud, or because I think it.

If I refuse to partake in the religious observances of others, such as praying or sitting quietly while they do, not shopping or working on Sunday, standing while someone reads (Tora or Gospel), or otherwise exhibiting my own rejection of a belief in god, it will commonly be considered rude and likely offensive. I do not always refuse for that reason, but I think I should. My opinion is equally valid.

Please Don’t Kill Me.

If I draw a stick figure, no one cares. If I claim it’s a likeness of the founder of Islam, millions are offended. Some may even take their feelings to the level of murder.

Sometimes I say hurtful things when I did not intend to demean or cause others to feel offended. Most often, this is in the from of poorly thought out humor or comments. My filter sometimes bombs. I apologize for being thoughtless or ignorant. Fortunately, it seldom happens.

I don’t always apologize. Sometimes I’m not sorry. If I said or did nothing offensive, or if I did intentionally insult someone (it happens, again—driving), I’m rarely remorseful. I recall a Ricky Gervais meme that said, “Just because you’re offended doesn’t mean you’re right.”

Indeed, one may offend another merely by violating an individual’s sense of what is proper or fitting. If, by not accepting that any god exists, I offend someone, that’s on them. But I understand why they may not like what I said.

Did He Mean That?

When George H. W. Bush made the following official statement to a member of the press, it was intentionally offensive. “No, I don’t know that Atheists should be considered as citizens, nor should they be considered patriots.” He never recanted or apologized.

The next time someone talks to me about rude atheists, I may ask for an explanation of this.

What agnostics are not

According to the Merriam-Webster.com on-line Dictionary, the word agnostic shares part of its history with words such as prognosticate and prognosis, words which have something to do with knowledge or knowing.

The word atheist shares roots with words such as theology and theism, which have to do with god or gods, not knowledge thereof. There is a difference.

Being an agnostic is not, as many assume, halfway between being a believer or a nonbeliever. One has to do with knowledge, or the ability of humans to have knowing, while the other identifies a proclaimed conclusion regarding the existence of a god. Halfway could be either unconvinced atheists or unconvinced believers. I’ve probably fit both unconvinced categories at different times of my life.

According to me (I made this up), there are three types of agnostics. First are all the people who say they are agnostic. Second are all the people who do not believe in any gods but cannot prove that none exist (atheists). The third group are those who do believe in any number of gods (usually one), but likewise cannot prove the existence of even one god.

If you add groups one, two, and three; that equals everybody. Therefore, claiming to be agnostic is akin to staking a claim to be one of everyone (sarcastic eye roll). In the end, we’re all agnostic.

I don’t care if god talks to any of us, shoots lightning into our brains, or saves one of us from a hungry wolf (apologies to Duran Duran), we don’t know if such events are true and no one knows if god exists. We simply choose to claim such a belief, usually because that is what someone taught us.

We were not born with that belief. We may want there to be a god. Okay. It may make us feel good to think god exists. Also, fine. We may claim faith. Wonderful. But none of us knows. Not one person.

In my opinion, people who claim to be agnostic are essentially atheist because they do not hold to the belief or conclusion that a god exists. Knowing or not knowing is immaterial to belief. Either we believe in god, or we don’t.

We may have doubts. Maybe we want to believe but can’t. Maybe we have some other rationale for our position. All good. Someone may say they believe in god and be lying. That’s fine by me. But staking a claim to middle ground by hiding behind the claim of agnosticism seems disingenuous, in my (not so) humble opinion.

If we say we are agnostic, as we all should because we don’t know, that takes us back to why people believe: faith and preference, not knowledge.

That’s just how it works. It should be clear, but it’s not. I think it’s fair to ask someone why they do or do not believe in a god. If the answer sounds like I am agnostic, then I must assume they do not believe, unless they say otherwise.

Peace,

Bill

Fun video: