Clarification
When I tell people that I’m not a Christian, or more specifically that I’m against institutionalized religion altogether, their first question is often “Are you an atheist?”. This entry is to state officially that I am NOT an atheist. What am I, then? Before I get to that, I figure I should explain why I am so vehemently against standardized religion.
It begins with a story from my childhood. I wasn’t raised under the umbrella of any particular faith, which left me open to discover religion on my own. I found Christianity by way of an Evangelist youth group; a friend of mine from school invited me to attend a recreational event, and I was having such a good time playing basketball and hanging out with other kids that it wasn’t too much of a leap for me to listen to what they had to say about God. For awhile I was really into it; there was something satisfying about placing your hopes into a higher presence. I used to even go up to the altar during prayer sessions.
It only took one incident. I was talking to one of the group leaders, and he “informed” me that people who don’t accept Christ as their personal savior go to Hell. I asked him “What about the people in third world countries who never hear about Christ?”. He said that that’s what missionaries are for. As for the people those missionaries didn’t reach – well, it was unfortunate, but they too would be going to hell. I’m sure the progressive Christians out there reading this are shaking their heads. I know now that this view misrepresents the religion, but as a pre-adolescent, none of that mattered. You see, back then my mother was exploring other religions, and was practicing Buddhism.
I asked the group leader if my mother was going to hell since she was a Buddhist, and he said yes, and that I should work to “bring her back”. Can you imagine what went through my head? My mother at that time was the single most important person in my life. One negative word about her usually made me ready to fight someone. As I thought about what this guy was suggesting, I weighed the influence of God vs. the influence of my mother in my life. My mother was a reliable constant – a tangible being who had been there for me since the very beginning. There was never a time that I felt I couldn’t depend on her. God, on the other hand, while “he” represented an ideal that I had been willing to subscribe to, did not have that kind of real presence.
So let me get this straight, I thought. Because my mother doesn’t follow your (the Christian) belief system, she’s going to be condemned to an eternity in hell, despite being a kind, compassionate, and selfless person? My hackles were up. I almost hit the guy. Any god who would do such a thing would be a monster, and surely not worthy of my devotion. Fuck your god – that’s how I felt in that instant. That was the impetus for my challenge of Christian doctrine, and from there my skepticism only increased, reinforced again and again by my own personal research. I don’t remember at which point my skepticism turned to cynicism, and my distaste turned to something very close to hatred, but that’s where I am right now. You never tell a boy that his mother’s going to hell. That one guy, in all of his idiocy, planted the seed for a new antichrist.
That was only the beginning. As I grew older, I became an increasingly rational, logical, and analytical person. The beliefs, practices, and rituals of Christianity, as well as other organized religions no longer had a place in my mind. They became ridiculous. Who was it that ascribed divine status upon Jesus, declaring him the “Son of God”; if he said it himself, are we to take it literally or figuratively? It has been convenient throughout history for religious adherents to exalt their figureheads to divinity as a means of justifying power. Another example would be the Egyptian pharoahs, who were obeyed as rulers, and worshipped as gods. Jesus’s divinity was a decision – made by whom I couldn’t tell you – but most likely made for the purpose of either establishing or sustaining a power structure.
Susan Blackmore, in her book “The Meme Machine“, mentions something called the “altruism trick” for spreading memes. If I make it a habit to do nice things for you, to be kind to you at all times, and to go out of my way to help you, won’t you be more inclined to listen to what I have to say? Will it not be easier for me to convince you of something which may at first even be counter-intuitive? In a sense, you will feel as though you owe it to me to give my argument the benefit of the doubt. So consider missionaries, who travel to places only grazed by the technological boon, and therefore are not privy to the wellspring of information available to the people of the industrialized world. If the people in a given region are suffering from disease or famine, and these “messengers of God” come bearing gifts of food and medicine, then surely the least the people can do is listen to the ideas that allegedly inspired this good will, right?
What if you lived in a culture that subscribed to a religion involving ritual sacrifice, and as part of the commoner class you were subject to being “offered to the gods”? Along comes a group of strangers, and they tell you that your sadistic gods are false – that there is in fact only one god. Furthermore, not only would he never sacrifice you, he sent his own son to be sacrificed in order to absolve your sins. Changing your beliefs in this case result in immediate benefits, as you no longer accept “divine justification” of ritual sacrifice. When presented with this new information, you suddenly seem to have options that maybe you never considered before. And this guy, Jesus? He died for YOU. There can be no greater form of altruism. There is the trick at work once again. Of course none of this invalidates the genuine acts of good will that religious proselytizers perform in the name of their faith, but intricately nested within all of this is a mechanism for spreading that doctrine. You can even see how this mechanism was at work in that youth group I mentioned earlier. They shared with me their facilities, their resources, and showed me a good time, which made me open to listening to what they had to say.
How about desperation? Imagine being in a situation that seems hopeless, from which there seems to be no escape – such as slavery. You’ve seen many people attempt many different solutions – running away, hiding, or fighting back – only to incur even greater penalties. The government has laws that forbid these conditions but these laws only apply to human beings, and you have been relegated to the status of only a little better than an animal, and disposable property. No help to be found there. If no worldly solution presents itself, it follows in short order that a person would turn to forces greater than themselves, greater than those that enslave them. Pray to god, and perhaps he will come to your aid. If not, then at the very least you can take solace in the idea that when this earthly suffering has ended, your devotion will guarantee you a place in a world of beauty and light. All you have to do is acknowledge god’s son and his sacrifice for your sins! Nevermind that these ideas were passed on to you by the very people who enslave you, and who by this same idea can find a place right alongside you in that wonderful place, despite the fact that they subjugated you mercilessly. Apparently this “god” has no sense of justice, or a cruel sense of irony.
Considering these things, and the inherent contradictions and hypocrisies in every organized religion, it is easy to see how someone would question them. Afterall, if you’re not a skeptic, then you’re a sheep. If this wasn’t enough, I would later learn more about the history of organized religion, namely their origins in the Indo-European invasions of 6000 years ago, and how they propagated behind the power of conquest. If presented with the choice of remaining loyal to your own gods and being murdered, or converting to the religion of your invaders and surviving, which would you pick? If by some measure of idealism you’re thinking you’d stay true to your faith, consider that that may be because people today are more resourceful, more educated, and recognize The Individualy options available to them. Also, people today are not often faced with such a ridiculously black and white situation.
Finally, since this is becoming long-winded, there is the issue of mythology vs. history. Every religion began as a collection of stories passed on by oral tradition and often co-evolving as they were shared amongst increasingly larger groups of people. Out of the thousands of religions that once existed, only a few still remain, and even fewer have a reach much greater than their land of origin. Those “obsolete” religions have been relegated to the status of “myth” or “legend”, because that was the decision of the dominant, who insisted that only their own religion was the “truth”. Most of these old stories that have made up religions are recognized as untrue or highly improbable, and yet some – like those of the “Big Three” (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam) are regarded by many as historical accounts. The more progressive followers of these religions, being more rational, have adapted their interpretation of the old texts so that they are merely symbolic. That’s pretty convenient. How many times will adherents have to “change their interpretations” of their religions so that they remain relevant?
This brings me back to the question of “What am I?”. A few terms come close to explaining it, but don’t quite hit the mark. Atheists believe that there is no God. Some of the best cases for atheism I’ve found come from those scientists and philosophers who subscribe to the idea of an evolutionary algorithm, that is, who believe that Darwin’s idea of natural selection can be used to explain the “mindless” development of our universe. They argue for the “accumulation of design” as opposed to the religious view of “argument by design”. The actions of various mindless “replicators” (e.g. DNA) copying themselves – that being their only “impulse” – and with random copying errors, can explain all the complexity in our universe.
It is a fascinating theory, and I’d recommend that people read more about it on their own. Richard Dawkins’ “The Selfish Gene“, “The Extended Phenotype“, and “The Blind Watchmaker“, as well as Daniel Dennett’s “Darwin’s Dangerous Idea” are good references. As provocative as these ideas are, there is something rooted deeply within me – perhaps even some remnant of my religious past – that will not allow me to accept it. Perhaps it is a lingering sense of romanticism which cannot be reconciled with this extremely grim possibility. My personal stance on natural selection, unlike the “Dawkinsians”, is that while it can account for much of the world’s evolutionary processes, there must be some other mechanisms at work. I cannot offer any scientifically valid alternative, but my intuition cries out in opposition. Also, even if the so-called evolutionary algorithm is responsible for creation, that doesn’t disprove the existence of higher entities. While its simplicity suggests that it does not require intelligence, would not such an amazing system be a real credit to divine architects?
My problem with atheism is that it too is composed of “beliefs”. They believe in the nonexistence of God. Their often self-righteous and bullheaded approach to convincing others of this “truth” does not differ much from the aggravating proselytization of Christian evangelists. While I am always willing to engage in conversation with people, and share my personal thoughts on these transcendental issues, I would never declare my ideas as “truth”, and nor would I attempt to “convert” someone to my way of thinking. The only thing I ever try to push on anyone is open-mindedness, and I often insist that people just take the time to examine their beliefs.
Meanwhile, there are the agnostics, who don’t claim to know whether or not God exists, and don’t think that it can be proven one way or the other. This doesn’t quite fit me, because I encourage all efforts to explain the workings of our universe or to uncover the truth about higher presences, even though I am not too confident that these efforts will ever be successful. So, I guess the difference between agnostics and myself is that I am not as apathetic. It is actually quite important to me that there be something out there greater than myself – and all of humanity for that matter. I have to believe that. Another group with which I identify with is the deists, who like I do reject the idea of faith, and think that the existence of God can only be discovered through scientific rationalization. The difference here is that deism, like the other majority creeds, seems to imply the existence of a singular all-powerful god.
This is not an idea that I subscribe to absolutely, but nor do I reject it. I simply don’t know, and so I don’t claim otherwise. Also, the idea of multiple “gods” suits me better for some reason. I put “god” into quotes there because I don’t place much stock into the word itself. I like to entertain the idea of many “higher beings” operating on some level above human perception. If “god” status means that a being is omniscient or omnipotent, then that’s the part I’m less inclined to accept. A popular question asked by people who are skeptical (like myself) is “If God is benevolent, why does “he” allow bad things to happen?”. An easy answer would be that god (or the gods) are not all-powerful, and are not infallible. Where else in the universe do we witness perfection? Nowhere. So is it in anyway realistic to hold “god” to such a standard? I suppose then, that these higher beings – if they exist – cannot be called gods at all.
I also have this vague sense that “truth”, if such a thing exists objectively, is being subverted by humans’ insufficient powers of perception. Sometimes I think things like “If there is a god or gods, how must they feel having their identities, work, or very existence warped by human beings?” A sort of sadness comes over me when I think that these “gods”, through religious perversion, are being grievously misrepresented. As a hypothetical example of what I mean, let us suppose for a moment that Greek mythology is the actual truth, and that the prevalence of later religions – like Christianity – has distorted their roles in the universe, even so far as to invalidate them completely. That would be tragic, wouldn’t it? So, in a way, I feel that by remaining skeptical, by challenging everything, I am leaving an opening for the “gods” to communicate. Established religion, in purporting “truth”, cuts people off from this possibility.
My ideas about these “higher beings” are abstract – ephemeral even – changing constantly as I learn and experience new things. I hesitate to give them concrete form, and in fact cannot, because beyond some vague intuition, I cannot offer any solid evidence to myself or anyone else of their existence. The best I can offer are theories of metaphysical processes which may explain the nature of existence. I can only imagine where these higher beings fit into this scheme. If you’re interested, some of these theories are available here:
What do I believe? The simple answer is nothing. Once a person “believes” something, then it is no longer subject to examination, and their mind is closed to truth. Belief is the root of the kind of dogmatic systems that I regularly condemn, and so I choose to only entertain various ideas, all of which are subject to falsification.